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berrieluv · 2 years

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gross!Peter Parker, angsty smut ?? (if that's possible), kinda an argument, peter feeling insecure, somnophilia, piss kink, daddy kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, mentions of Peter gaining weight, mentions of peter thinking on non-con, male masturbation, idk what else. this kinda wanted to turn into an angst.

i swear this is the last gross!peter parker, i just had to write it.

"Peter did you wash your hands?" You asked while looking at him eating fries, the ketchup tainting his fingers and him cleaning them with his tongue.

You weren't a genius or a time traveler, but you knew Peter was jerking off a moments ago before you arrived home. It was borderline concerning how much he could go in a day, seeing his hand without his cock was now a weird occurrence.

Peter felt everything almost three times more than everyone else and that was something you knew, you discovered it when you fell for him first but he showed you no matter how hard you tried, your heart could never beat for him as fast as his does for you.

Things being kinda similar in sex, you knew he could cum faster because he felt the sensations in a more intense way that you did. But still, that wasn't enough explanation of why he wouldn't stop masturbating.

It was hot at first, coming home, being receiving by the tenue kitchen lights while everything else was dark, hearing Peter little whimpers and your name coming out of your mouth, now it was so recurrent it was disgusting.

So why did it turn you on even more than before?

The thought of Peter making you dinner with the same hands he used to stroke his cock made your pussy feel a little tickle, but him taking your cheeks with his hand to kiss your lips in a desperate way, that definitely made you wet. "Your cock is gonna get stuck in your fucking hand if you don't stop jerking off" You comment, taking an apple from the bowl and biting on it while Peter looked at you with a smirk.

"What? Don't act like it doesn't turn you on, doll"

"It's disgusting" You say, intending to leave your bag in the couch and quickly moving it to the chair, taking your shoes off. "You do nothing but masturbate. Look at this place, a fucking mess again" You started to push Peter's patience. "And don't fucking call me 'doll', I don't like it when you do it"

"When I do it?" He asked, accentuating the pronoun; "Who you like it to come from then?"

"The old Peter" You were quick to answer "The one that actually was actually useful for this marriage"

"So you're mad at me because I stopped taking care of everything?"

At this point the both of you knew you were playing, Peter found a strange feeling of arouse building when you started to degrade him and you started to feel tickles all around your body when he could call you a brat.

"Everything?" You yelled "You barely did something, Peter. You're so fucking lucky I have a good job, otherwise we would've still living with your aunt"

"You're just jealous because I was brave enough"

"Brave enough for what, Peter? For being lazy?"

"To give up what doesn't make me happy, a thing you would, and could never fucking do. You're so scared of disappointing people who doesn't care about you, you're stuck in a job you don't like, in a department you don't want, with a husband you don't feel attracted to anymore!"

And you both knew, one of the biggest dangers of the play you both were playing was exactly that. At some moment, it stopped being a game.

Did Peter really thought you don't feel attracted to him? Yes, you didn't like your job, but not enough for quitting all the benefits it gave you, it allowed Peter to live the life he wanted, and that was always enough for you, and more important than Peter, it allowed you to live the life you wanted. The only thing you didn't love about your department was the lousy streets of Brooklyn, and the fact that you wanted to move to New York but Peter could never leave his aunt, and you could never leave your family.

Everything Peter and you have done was for love and for each other, every decision taken and every step walked was because you loved each other, and never, not even for a second, it would occurred to you it was the opposite.

"You should fucking know where the role draws the line, dickhead"

You hissed, completely mad, furious, how dare he calling you weak, a coward, without stopping to think that even if he wasn't enjoying the life he used to live, it didn't mean others weren't enjoying themselves.

And Peter felt awful, because he got hard the exact moment you walked through the door, because he couldn't stop thinking about you and the many ways he'll drop his cum inside and outside of you, and he knew you were hurt, but fuck did he need to find release.

He didn't intend to hurt you, he was expecting a 'Let me show you how much I am not attracted to you' kind of sex, rewinding his words, he could see that maybe he went a little too far with it.

Would it be prudent to intrude the tranquility you just found by entering the room? Your steady breath let him know you finally fell asleep. And he should fix the problem, he should try to talk to you like old Peter would, his old self would never allow you to go to bed upset, fuck, his old-self would never even think of saying those things.

However, his old-self didn't know how fucking great it felt when you called him lazy and made fun of his life plans, his old-self would never experience how fast it made him cum the mere action of putting your pajamas aside and slowly thrusting into you, carefully to not wake you up, festering his movements because you felt too fucking good only to heard your sleepy voice murmuring how wet you were and how you thought it was a dream only to feel embarrassed about how much you 'cum' while sleeping.

He was tempted to go in and fuck you, without caring if you said 'no' (safe-word stablished), but he wasn't that of an asshole. So he just walked away from the bedroom, the mattress he recently had the opportunity to sleep in again, now back in the old game when he refused to take a shower, what? two days ago? He didn't even remember.

He lied on the couch for a few minutes before closing his eyes, his painful erection wanting to get free from his shorts. And yes, you could be a bit of a drama queen, but he could never disrespect you like that. You went to sleep horny is only fair he does it too, even when his cock is looking at him, trying to rise under the shorts' fabric, even when doing nothing about it was unbelievable painful.

Maybe a touch wouldn't hurt?

He lets a moan scape when his hand rubs his clothes cock, but that should be enough. He had to be strong, for you.

But wouldn't you want him to have a nice night of sleep? Maybe touching it a little bit more would do the trick, just to calm it.

Seconds after Peter was fully pumping his cock, his shorts by his knees and his hips going up, your name coming out as small, almost inaudible moans.

Yes, Peter could be a bit of a fuck up lately, but another woman would never cross his mind during any sexual activity, didn't matter if it was with you or by himself.

Well, there we go again. The loads of cum were falling from him while he moved his hand through his – now - creamy cock, his abdomen was tainted and some drops reached the sofa too.

He thought about it now, about in which part his life turned into a (retired)super-hero, the best student in class now without a job, sleeping in his own release because his wife wouldn't want him near her.

Peter didn't go through it much, he knew you loved him, and he was fine by being a trophy husband. He could actually see himself attending business parties just making sure you were alright and flashing others with your intelligence and professionalism, just being known as 'Y/N Parker's husband'.

He tapped his now bigger belly, felling the waistband of his short tighten it, while his hand rested on his hairy chest, he wondered if it ever made you uncomfortable, if it did, you never let him now. Maybe he should try to be more like you wanted him to be and less like he wanted to be.

By the time the clock hit 12:00 o'clock, you woke up. Like an alarm was set up your eyes opened.

"Fuck you, Peter" You mumbled when you felt your panties wet, the uncomfortable sensation invading you while you walked to the living room, taking the scissors when you passed by the kitchen. Peter was not a heavy sleeper, he was kinda easy to wake up, but a part of him relaxed when he was home, when you were around, he allowed himself to sleep better and it was harder for something to make him wake up.

You'll make sure to buy him another shorts, you thought, while passing the scissors through all the fabric, leaving him almost naked, he shook a little when by accident the cold metal of the scissors touched his skin, but nothing to make him wake up.

His cock was peacefully sleeping when you got on top of him, being a little difficult for you to get it inside of you, thankfully, your wet cunt helped it to slide easier.

"Fuck..." you moaned in release, when you tell you were needing this it wasn't a lie.

Once he was all in your hips moved in circles around his pelvis, your hand went straight to your clit and started caressing it. "Go back to sleep, Pete. I'll take care of this myself"

You said as soon as you saw Peter opening his eyes, feeling his cock hardening inside of you. You clench your pussy around him and he can't help but moan, like a slut.

"God, Peter, you're so noisy. Shut up."

He nods, pretending to obey but knowing he wasn't near to accomplish the task, how could he when you were acting like that.

Peter's hands were trying to find something to hold since you deprived him to touch you; "Doll, you're fucking hot" He murmurs.

"You too, Pete" You said, jumping on his cock "You're so– fuck... You're so fucking big, Peter, when did you... where did this belly came from? when..." Your question was interrupted by a moan, and that only made Peter smile "when did you filled out like this?"

"Suits me?"

He ask, nonchalantly, while you were coming undone by using his cock.

"Yes-yes, yes, yes, suits you so fucking much, Pete. God, I love it"

Peter only smirks while finally taking your hips, helping you to go up and down on his cock, he doesn't make much of a show when he cums for the first time, being what you both are use to, he would finish inside of you multiple times after this.

His own cum starts to drain down his cock and his hands start to stroke your ass, taking it with both of them so he could move your body faster.

Definitely, Spider-Man would always be a blessing.

He hugs your body and pulls you to his chest, fast, in an aggressive way, only to keep you clenched to him and move his hips to go in and out of you faster.

"You' good, baby? You like it?" He says and you look at him with teary eyes, nodding "Of course you do, my love. You're such a fucking whore for my cock, aren't you?"

And you are, so you answer that question by jumping faster once you got away from his chest.

"Honey, come back to bed"

You begged, missing his warm body by your side, Peter could feel the change in your mood, not only for the pet-name but because of the soft, concerned voice you have used.

That dialogue wasn't about sex anymore, it was about you missing him. His wife missed him.

And he swore he could cry at that exact moment if it wasn't because of the gutural moan you let out and your heavier sit. You stood from his cock once you felt done, your thick white cum being expelled from your cunt and landing on Peter's cock.

You sit on him, without having him inside again and rub your hips, scattering both; yours and his cum on your bodies.

"That was so gross, doll" He said, stunned that it was you and not him "Now you have me all covered in cum. I'm not taking a shower"

You smile and lean down to reach his lips; "Good thing I won't either"

Your rubs start to go faster, your clit feeling aroused by the friction of his abdomen with it, you could end there, he orgasmed three times and you had enough with one, but your body had a mind of its own and kept going, aggressively rubbing your clit against his skin, holding yourself with your hands in his chest and feeling how a more load of cum was exiting your pussy, completely getting rubbed on Peter's torso.

"Fuck, doll. Kept going, fuck, I don't even wanna cum anymore I just want you to get us dirtier"

"Pete, Pete, stop, please, no more" You cried, still moving against his body.

"I'm barely touching you, princess"

"Please, please, no, no more, daddy, yes? No more" Peter got instantly hard, it had been too long since you called him that, he completely forgot the nickname. "Stop it, daddy, wanna pee, please"

Now he did have you rubbing against him, his big strong hands moving your body on top of him, not allowing you to stop.

"Go on, baby. Pee on daddy's cock"

You shake your head, a bit embarrassed, while that fucking bastard only smirked. "You have no other choice, princess. You either do it or we never finish this"

You let out a lousy moan and lift your hips, feeling yourself letting go and crying at the overwhelming sensation of pleasure and disgust.

"Mean, daddy"

You pout, and Peter swears he wants to take you right there again, ignoring completely the fact that he feels like he can barely move anymore. He can't even remember when was the last time he had you al submissive and pouty, all for himself.

He hugs you and rubs your back, his naughty hand touching through your folds making you squirm on top of him.

"No more, daddy" You plead.

"No more, princess. Daddy's taking you to bed, alright?"

No shower though, just you and him and you recently cleaned bed. Of course if you asked him for a shower he would take care of every inch of skin, he had memorized how to do it and you just needed to let him know, but judging by your tired gaze, he would only take you to bed.

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avengerscompound · 2 years

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Small Gods: Little Traditions - 4

Little Traditions: A Sam Wilson Fanfic

Little Traditions Masterlist | More Small Gods PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Sam Wilson x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 2371

Warnings: nothing really

Synopsis: Since the blip and Steve Rogers giving up the mantle of Captain America, Sam’s life has been chaotic. It’s not enough that the world has moved on in the five years he’d gone, and that he’d missed so much, now he has to live with everything it means to be Captain America. He feels like he’s losing all the things that make him him. A venture to the supermarket to recreate one of his parents famous recipes brings him to you.

Chapter 4

Sam was quite excited about his date with you. He had always been good at reading people. He trusted his instincts and it was rare that he was wrong. It was why he’d formed such a strong bond with Riley. It was why he immediately formed a connection with Steve. He was good at reading people - he’d been trained to read people. He knew when people were hiding things from him and when they were just nervous or shy. He knew when he was being manipulated. He could tell when someone was annoying but ultimately good, and when someone was charming and ultimately bad. He could even tell very early on if someone would never become closer to him than acquaintances and when they would be actual friends. He trusted his feelings when he liked someone and he really liked you.

There had been a lot of talk about tradition, and so Sam decided to go with a traditional date, only with his own Wilson spin on it.

“So where are you taking me?” you asked as you sat beside him in his truck. He’d picked you up. He’d realized it was a risky move - he was taking you into New Orleans after all, and it wasn’t a short drive. If things didn’t go well, then there was no way for either of you to escape the forty-five-minute trip back together. He had faith though, and what kind of date would he be, if he expected you to drive an hour and a half each way just to see him?

“We’re heading to a jazz club for dinner and then if you feel like a change of venue there’s an outdoor movie festival on. They’re playing different vampire movies every night. Tonight it’s Vampires in Brooklyn followed by Bram Stoker’s Dracula.”

“That sounds like a nice twist on dinner and a movie,” you said, shifting in your seat so you were looking at him more.

He smiled, happy that you didn’t think it was cliché. “Yeah, well you seemed to like the idea of tradition, but I wanted to make it ours.”

“It’s a perfect idea,” you said. “And who knows, maybe we can even do some dancing.”

“Another classic,” Sam said. “I do have some sweet moves.”

“I hope I get to see them,” you said.

“Well, if not tonight, another night,” he said. “We definitely can’t go too long before tearing it up.”

You laughed and smiled softly at him. “Not to jump into labelling us yet, but I do like the idea of finding the thing that is ours. I think every couple needs that.”

“I agree,” he said. “The special little things that you share with the people who are important to you are the best.”

Your smile grew and you nodded enthusiastically. “I totally agree.”

“So,” Sam said, as he pulled up at a set of traffic lights. “We have forty-five minutes to kill. Maybe we should get to know each other better. Are you a Louisiana native?”

“No. I’m a transplant,” you said. “But I have been here for a while.”

“So what brought you here? Work?” he asked.

You seemed to think about the question for a moment. There was a soft expression on your face as you considered it. “I guess in a way you could say that. I have always been attracted to places that have developed their own pockets of culture that are separate from everything around them. There is nothing like Louisiana for that. Yes, in Italy you will have one town telling you to use white wine in a pasta sauce and the next town will say it has to be red, but here, it’s like everyone just came here and blended their foods and culture and beliefs and it’s just its own thing now. There are so many factors that made it, you know?”

Sam nodded in understanding. “It’s a special place,” he said.

“You grew up here, right?” you asked.

“That’s right,” he said. “My parents had a fishing boat. I mean - we still have the fishing boat. The crawfish boil was a little tradition my parents started back in the day to celebrate the first good haul of them for the season. It was something I loved doing as a kid and I wanted to bring it back again.”

“Yes!” you said. “You see this is what I mean. Look at that dish from the start. The crawfish are from here. They’re easy to come by, so people would fish for them, but they didn’t have the perfect way to cook them. They tried the traditional rich French ways of cooking lobster because a lot of French immigrated here early on. But it didn’t go with the small crustacean. So they modified the recipes and cooking techniques and added their own Creole touch - which is a blend of so many cultures. Then people took that dish, and make it an event. You don’t just cook a few bugs. You have your friends around. You do your version of the recipes. More cultures come and do their takes on it. It’s a living organism that changes from family to family and yet it’s so important to the people involved. It’s an event like going to church but just about sharing with your chosen people. And here in New Orleans, there’s so much of that. The music, the parties, the food, the burial practices, the people. It makes this place so special.”

Sam couldn’t help but smile as you spoke. He got caught up in your enthusiasm and passion for the topic. Something he’d never really taken the time to fully appreciate. He knew most of the things you’d said, and he was proud of his heritage. These were his people and he was who he was today because of them. It was different hearing it from you. Almost like the things he knew deep down in his core were being named, and being named by someone who seemed to be an expert on the topic.

“It is special,” he agreed. “My heart has always been here.” He looked at you out of the corner of his eye, taking you in for a moment as he cruised down the highway. “You seem so passionate about it. Are you an anthropologist?”

You laughed and shook your head. “No. Though I do love Anthropos.” You paused and chewed your bottom lip like you were considering telling him something more. Sam glanced over at you again. He could tell you had something on your mind that was troubling you, but he also knew he was way too early into the relationship to try and pry secrets out of you. He still felt good about you and the potential for an actual relationship growing out of this. Whatever it was that was troubling you, he didn't think it would be a deal breaker.

“So what is it you do?” he said. “You sound like an expert.”

You took a deep breath and looked up at the roof of the car. “You know Thor, don't you?”

The sudden change of topic was almost enough to give Sam whiplash. He choked on surprised laughter and shook his head as his thoughts tried to catch up to the abrupt topic change. “Yeah. I know him. He's a good guy. He was more Steve’s friend than mine though so I wouldn't say that we’re close. I wasn't officially an Avenger when he was on the team, and by the time I joined he'd gone back to Asgard or whatever. Then I got blipped. So you probably know as much as I do about the rest of it. But yeah, we've met. Partied together, fought in a few fights on the same side.”

“So, you know a god, and your friends or at least friendly acquaintances. You accept that as a normal thing, his divinity and immortality, and his love for mortals both as friends and even romantically. I mean he was pretty publically dating doctor Jane Foster.”

If Sam hadn't been on the highway, he would have pulled the car over. As it was his eyebrows shot up and he looked at you out of the corner of his eye as he tried to figure out where this conversation was heading.

“Uhhh… yes. That's accurate,” he said. “I mean, some people debate the god thing and just say he's a guy who lives longer than us and has a superpower and humans just saw him as a god. But yeah, I mean we grew up learning Norse mythology. And he is here. But at the same time, even with the flowery prose and powers, he's a guy. It's hard to think ‘god’ when you're just sharing a beer with a guy. Why? What's all this about?”

“Well,” you said, wrinkling your nose. “You asked what I did. And the answer is godly things?”

Sam nearly slammed on the breaks. It took every ounce of self-control to keep the car driving straight. “I’m sorry - what?”

“I’m a god. Well, goddess if you’re hung up on gendered language, though I’ve never been a fan of it. Sure there are gods of differing power levels, but their gender expression is irrelevant to that,” you explained.

Sam couldn’t quite process what was happening, and he couldn’t quite figure out why. There was nothing about the way you were speaking that made him think you were lying. Going off every piece of body language he understood, he could tell at the very least you believed you were telling the truth. If this little bomb had been dropped before Loki had destroyed half of New York, he’d have just assumed you were delusional and tried to talk you into getting some mental health care.

This was not that world, and while the idea that you were some kind of god still sounded ludicrous, it wasn’t impossible.

“You don’t believe me,” you said. “That’s okay, even in a world where half the population disappeared and then reappeared five years later people still don’t expect to meet the divine. What’s funny is, you probably do it way more regularly than you think. There are a lot of us.”

“You mean all the gods are real?” Sam asked, not even sure if the question came from skepticism or shock.

“Yeah, and some,” you answered. “Some are beings that came here and humans worshiped because they saw an immortal being who can control the tides must be a god. But the world is full of magic and when a lot of energy is placed into one thing, it creates a focal point, and sometimes - what pops out is what you’d call a god.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “I don’t quite follow.”

“Well,” she said. “Say, you have a society that’s terrified of losing their things when they die. So they create a whole story about how a hippo will come and weigh your heart and if you’re good, you can go spend eternity with all your stuff in paradise? And so the whole society starts worshiping that hippo. Well - if they really believe it and pray to it, their focus creates that being.”

“So you’re saying that humans have created gods by simply believing they exist,” Sam asked.

“That’s right,” you said. “But it’s even more than that, have you ever gotten stuck in traffic and just prayed for it to get moving? Or have you ever lost your keys and wandered around looking for them praying to find them because you had an appointment to get to only to find them in the pocket you’d already checked five times? Those are things that millions and millions of people pray for every day, and from those prayers, a god is born.”

Sam blinked and shook his head. “This sounds both completely crazy and completely plausible,” he said. “I don’t know how to process it. So you’re a god? What god are you? Persephone?”

“No, she’s one of the ones that visited. That’s why there’s a Roman version and a Greek version of her name,” you answered. “I’m just me. I haven’t lied to you.”

“I’ve never heard of you before,” he said. “What do you do?”

You laughed. “You wouldn’t have,” you said. “I’ve come from gaps between magic and religion. Where people gather to celebrate things just for the joy of celebration and sharing with their family and friends. I come from the traditions people have that aren’t attached to anything.”

Sam was more confused than ever. “But what do you do?”

“Not all gods go around answering prayers. Loki doesn’t go around answering people’s prayers for mischief. He just causes mischief,” you said. “But I do have some magic in me. You saw it. I didn’t suggest lime by coincidence.”

“You knew?” Sam asked.

“I knew,” you said. “I do live around here. I was in the supermarket coincidentally, but I could feel how badly you wanted your old family traditions back, and I knew what it was you needed. But imagine how crazed I’d come off if I said; oh what you’re looking for is the finger limes off the tree in your yard.”

Sam shook his head in disbelief. “So how old are you?”

“I’ve lost count,” you said. “Younger than civilization. Older than Thor. I existed before there were named gods and we were all just nexus points of desire and celebration. We do come and go. What people want now isn’t always the same as what they wanted thousands of years ago.”

“Damn,” Sam said. “And you said yes to going on a date with me.”

“Well, you love so much of what I love, Sam,” you said. “Plus - you are kind of amazing. Amazing in ways gods wish they could be. How could I say no? The question is, knowing all this, do you still want to go out with me?”

He smiled and laughed. “I like to think I can read people, and I like you. So yeah, if you want to have a shot at a mundane life for a little while, I’d love to take you out.”

“Oh, Sam,” you said. “You are anything but mundane.”

// NEXT

#marvel #avengers #sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #falcon #falcon fanfic #captain america fanfic #marvel fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #small gods #little traditions

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themculibrary · 1 year

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Coming Out Fics (2) Masterlist

part one

American values (ao3) - orphan_account steve/sam T, 6k

Summary: Sam likes Steve. Steve likes Sam. But Captain America's never dated a guy before.

As You Are (ao3) - Eligh clint/phil E, 10k

Summary: When Phil accidentally comes out to Clint after a trying couple days, Clint takes this as his opportunity to finally make a move.

Almost entirely fluff.

cap’s quintet (ao3) - King_Hydroflax sam/bucky, maria/natasha G, 3k

Summary: sam and his team are all gay. they come out.

Curiosity (fanfiction.net) - serenelystrange steve/tony T, 2k

Summary: In which Clint's curiosity gets the better of him, Bruce and Tony are Science!Bros, and Steve may or may not be having a Big Gay Crisis. Written because even though I love me some science!boyfriends, I have love for Tony/Steve, too. Clint/Natasha in their way , Tony/Steve, Bruce, Thor, Fury, Coulson. Clint POV.

Fame (ao3) - Axinite25 yelena/kate G, 2k

Summary: Kate is recognised as an Avenger, with that comes a lot of online press. Luckily, Yelena is there for the difficult moments.

Kate/Yelena, coming out, the internet is weird

Hidden Aces (ao3) - oper_1895 steve/sam T, 1k

Summary: Sam’s not entirely sure what he and Steve have got going on, which means it’s time for an actual conversation. First though, Sam needs to put his own cards on the table. But it turns out Steve has an unexpected ace up his sleeve.

how to come out to the public (ao3) - cynthiagay sam/bucky T, 1k

Summary: sam and bucky have an interview.

many the miles (ao3) - CapnWinghead steve/sam T, 4k

Summary: After months of radio silence, Sarah Wilson travels to Brooklyn to track down her brother. When she arrives, she finds Sam living with a tall blond guy that seems to know more about him than she does at the moment.

(Not) Just between us (ao3) - orphan_account sam/bucky E, 15k

Summary: He survived battles, countless times now, but the last one felt different so he took his phone let his heart bleed a little.

He hadn't expected someone else to catch that on camera.

our secret (ao3) - haveufoundwhaturlookingfor sam/bucky G, 752

Summary: Sam and Bucky finally get together, but Sam knows he needs to get his shit together before he and Bucky can start telling people about their newfound relationship.

pepper potts does not get paid enough (ao3) - haveufoundwhaturlookingfor sam/bucky G, 2k

Summary: Pepper is not happy when Sam posts a photo of him and Bucky together on Instagram.

Pride (ao3) - charlieflor sam/bucky T, 919

Summary: "It's okay," Sam says when they break the kiss, leaning with their foreheads together. "I'm here."

Private Stuff (ao3) - alba17 maria/natasha T, 1k

Summary: Natasha won't let Clint in her bathroom. He's determined to find out why.

Put it in all of the papers, I'm not afraid they can read all about it (ao3) - EarthsSassiestHeroes clint/steve N/R, 1k

Summary: A follow up to "You've got the words to change a nation but you're biting your tongue" Steve and Clint go on Oprah's Next Chapter to discuss Steve's coming out.

roots (ao3) - sweetwatersong G, 1k

Summary: The family tree in the Barton household isn't so much a metaphor as an actual orchard out back. As long as Lila can remember it has been inextricably entwined with autumn and apples, and all those she loves.

The Guide to Being a Displaced 106 Year Old Who Is Coming to Terms With His Sexuality (ao3) - ChaoticAce2005 sam/bucky T, 5k

Summary: “So, people like- it’s normal to like both?”

Because despite Bucky’s head being like scrambled eggs, he remembers love. He remembers attraction. To that one baseball player. To a cashier at a mart, he went to. To the king of Wakanda who, holy fuck had no right looking that good.

And he thought maybe Hydra had screwed him up. Maybe they screwed around with his memories. But even now there were men who would cause Bucky to pause.

Men like Sam.

But he thought Hydra had just broken that part of him. Because he liked girls too and there was no way- Maybe he was just making it up- It couldn’t be real-

“Yeah,” Sarah responded, “Bisexual for one, that’s when you like two or more genders. There are more broad terms like pansexual or polysexual as well, those mean liking all genders or liking many genders.”

Wait- what?

“Aren’t there only two genders?”

Sarah just shook her head, “Gender is more a binary now, think a straight line and at one end is male and the other is female, there is all that space in the middle that some people are in. Some people don’t even identify as a gender.”

What- okay, that was going to give him a headache.

The Interview (ao3) - mybuckystar clint/pietro T, 2k

Summary: Clint grudgingly agrees to do an interview on a morning talk show. Needless to say, it doesn't go as planned.

Your Listed Heart (ao3) - Willowe T, 18k

Summary: Bobbi Morse breaks up with Clint Barton almost exactly six months after their first date, and everything goes to pieces.

Romance, relationships, identities- he doesn't want to think about any of that. But one drunken night, and one drunken mistake, later and Clint finds himself having to confront something much worse: the person at the heart of it all.

One Natasha Romanov.

#themculibrary #mcu #marvel #coming out #coming out masterlist #masterlists #lgbt

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dargeereads · 9 months

Text

He’s married to his mission. She’s married to her career. Will Hale and Elsa allow their hearts to surrender and let love in?

Fighting the Pull, the heartrending, emotional fifth standalone book in the River Rain Series from New York Times bestselling author Kristen Ashley is available now!

Hale Wheeler inherited billions from his father. He’s decided to take those resources and change the world for the better. He’s married to his mission, so he doesn’t have time for love.

There’s more lurking behind this decision. He hasn’t faced the tragic loss of his father, or the bitterness of his parents’ divorce. He doesn’t intend to follow in his father’s footsteps, breaking a woman’s heart in a way it will never mend. So he vows he’ll never marry.

But Hale is intrigued when he meets Elsa Cohen, the ambitious celebrity news journalist who has been reporting on his famous family. He warns her off, but she makes him a deal. She’ll pull back in exchange for an exclusive interview.

Elsa Cohen is married to her career, but she wants love, marriage, children. She also wants the impossibly handsome, fiercely loyal, tenderhearted Hale Wheeler.

They go head-to-head, both denying why there are fireworks every time they meet. But once they understand their undeniable attraction, Elsa can’t help but fall for the dynamic do-gooder.

As for Hale, he knows he needs to fight the pull of the beautiful, bold, loving Elsa Cohen, because breaking her would crush him.

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Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/3Zqew6D

Keep reading for a look inside Fighting the Pull!

The thing on my mind that I wasn’t admitting was taking more headspace than it should was the fact that Hale had texted the day before. Again. Why he wasn’t letting himself off the hook about this interview he never wanted in the first place, I did not know. And it wasn’t going to be me who let him off the hook. Oh no. Not officially. But I wasn’t returning his texts, so unofficially, the guy should take a hint. We’d made a deal almost a year before. The deal was, I’d kinda, sorta lay off his family, he’d give me an interview. I couldn’t totally lay off his family. They were the most celebrated celebrities in the world. Even the ones who hadn’t sought that out, like Chloe Pierce and Judge Oakley. But there were a great many different kinds of celebrity news, and it didn’t seem like Hale Wheeler had cottoned on to the fact I wasn’t a mudslinger. Sure, I also wasn’t an objective journalist. But I wasn’t TMZ either. Nugget of news: you could share gossip for a living and still be classy. I was proof of that (or I thought I was). I had my key ready to put into the four locks on the door to the building where my studio was in Brooklyn, and with practiced ease, I was out of the New York autumn morning cold in no time. I locked the door behind me and headed to the space in the sectioned off warehouse that I rented for my studio. I had to unlock that door too (only three locks this time), and once inside, I practically ran into Chuck, my cameraman, who was for some reason right there and crowding me. My space was small, but this was weird. I looked at his face, and…great. We’d probably been burgled. It wasn’t like I had a ton of expensive equipment, but what I had was hard won. I had offers coming in, and they were healthier than I’d allowed myself to dream, but I hadn’t signed on any dotted line. So, for the foreseeable future, ongoing operating costs, and any expansion, was on me. I didn’t have time to deal with police reports and insurance companies telling me how little they could actually replace seeing as some small line in their contract exempted them from doing what I paid them to do. Nor did I need to be shelling out to replace stuff. “What’s up?” I warily asked Chuck. “Hale Wheeler is here,” he whispered. Oh no. That was worse than being burgled. My gaze flew beyond Chuck to my set which was a one-step dais on which sat a mint green velvet swivel chair with a glass-topped gold side table beside it. These were in front of a greenscreen backdrop we could make anything we wanted it to be. Though usually it was subtle pastel green and peach swirls against a soft white with the words “Elsa’s Exchange” repeated throughout. And damn it all to hell, there he was. Tall, ridiculously handsome, athletically built Hale Wheeler, the richest man in the world.

For More Information about Kristen Ashley, visit her website: https://www.kristenashley.net/

For More Information about Blue Box Press, visit: Website: https://theblueboxpress.com/ Facebook: https://bit.ly/3ONzTtZ Instagram: https://bit.ly/3rTZdo3 TikTok: https://bit.ly/3G98oYh

#Kristen Ashley #Fighting the Pull #release blitz #1001 Dark Nights #Blue Box Press

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perish-the-creator · 2 years

Text

Nothing makes me laugh more than witnessing the absolute hurdles some of you are jumping over to try and explain why Kenji and Brooklyn are problematic.

"There was no chemistry" Neither was there for any ship besides Yazammy. Honestly look back and you'll see that Benji and Dinostar hold little weight. Ben was borderline tolerant of Kenji and couldn't care less unless the dude was in direct danger. Don't forget that Brooklyn threw Darius dead father in his face. I don't care how sorry she said she was, you don't say that to a grieving kid.

"But the age gap!" Hey. Hey listen. Um, teenagers will date other teenagers if they like them. Their canon ages are 13 and 15. That is normal. I know some of y'all have been online thanks to the pandemic, but two year age gaps are normal in high school and middle school. So stop trying to turn it into something it's not. Y'all sound stupid as hell.

Also, no you didn't get queerbaited. Stop throwing that word around.

Yasammy is neither confirmed nor denied. Neither girls have showed interest in anyone else. Also, you use the argument of them being kids? SHOCKER! Someone like Yaz probably didn't have time to properly understand her sexuality. Especially when it came to survival.

Kenji's feelings also made sense in context of what was going on. They are under the impression they are going home. So yeah, they can let their minds focus on things outside of trying not to die. And considering the close calls this season, it was now or never that he confessed.

Not to mention, the show actually promotes positive masculinity. By Darius not getting angry or trying to fight, it gets rid of the idea that boys fight over girls. Which is something that happens too often in shows.

If you truly hate the season just for the ship alone, I'd be happy to see you leave the fandom and never touch it again.

Don't harass the writers. Don't harass those who ship it. Don't say you can fix it just by suddenly making Kenji attracted to Ben.

Benji is dead and exist only in fanon.

Dinostar is dead and exist only in fanon.

#camp cretaceous #jwcc #camp cretacerous spoilers #jurassic world camp cretaceous #kenji kon #brooklyn #darius bowman #ben pincus #yasmina fadoula #sammy gutierrez #@ toxic benji fans specifically #i havent seen too many toxic dinostar fans....yet

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heliads · 2 years

Note

Hello awesome writer! Could you do a Spot Conlon x reader where the reader runs into Spot two days before they go to the newsies lodging house for a new job? Kinda like an enemies to lovers

spot conlon enemies to lovers <33

masterlist

It has not been the greatest day, to say the least. Brooklyn makes it hard to grow up here, hard to find a way to survive without selling your soul to make it. You’ve been making do with your family, but as the days go by, you know that you can’t stay forever. Anywhere would be better than that house, even living on the streets and rooftops like many of the city’s other teenagers.

You’re looking for a way out now, actually. Well-paying jobs are few and far between, especially for girls, but you do your best. You’ve got a few options right now, and all you have to do is figure out which one is the least bad. At least then you’ve got a shot.

Right now, you’re heading home for the day, distracted by thoughts of the workplace you just toured. There’s an option open as a junior, junior clerk at a nearby business, more a minimalist secretary than anything else. It would be inside, but your would-be boss was giving you weird vibes, so you’re not sure how you feel about it.

You hug your arms to your chest as you walk. It feels like you’re surrounded by bad options, with no good path forward. Some days, you swear the city has it out for you. Seconds later, a boy runs straight into you, as if confirming your thoughts.

You should just brush it off and ignore him. However, you’re tired and frustrated, and this boy hasn’t even apologized, so you refuse to let your temper fade away this time.

“Hey, watch where you’re going.”

You manage to put as much judgment into the words as possible and the boy turns around, surprised to see you addressing him.

“You talking to me?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Did anyone else run into me?”

The boy has the nerve to grin. “Well, my bad, sweetheart. Maybe you should have moved out of my way.”

This just makes your blood boil. “I don’t remember this being my fault. You ran into me, remember?”

The boy smirks, looking like a devil in the flesh. “Do I remember? Who knows, love. Maybe you just wanted an excuse to stop me in my tracks.”

You scoff. “Oh, get over yourself. An apology would be fine, but seeing as I don’t think that’s going to happen any time soon, I’ll be on my way.”

You move to go, but the boy neatly sidesteps in front of you, blocking your way. “Come on, sweetheart, we were just getting started. You’re cute when you’re mad, you know.”

You let out a frustrated sigh as you walk past him. The boy, however, just keeps walking by your side. “You shouldn’t call girls cute if you’ve just met them.”

The boy pretends to frown. “What else would I do, lie to them? I’m an honest man.”

You glare at him. “What you are is annoying. Are you going to let me go now?”

The boy spreads his hands. “As I recall, you’re the one who called after me.”

You decide that you hate him, this boy and his stupid red shirt and the way he walks like he owns the city itself. “Well, I’m taking it back now. Good day, whoever you are, I hope to never see you again.”

He shouts after you as you go, loud enough to attract curious stares from passersby and make embarrassed heat rise to your cheeks. “Likewise!”

The next day is rough. You can’t seem to find a job, and you’re just about to give up hope when your eyes fall on a group of teenagers about your age crowded around a street corner. They’re out in full force, these newsboys, all angling to catch new customers as they walk home in the evening. Just like that, it hits you- why don’t you go join the newsies? The pay’s no worse than any other corner of this city.

Plus, it seems like it would be sort of fun. You’d hang around with new friends, spend time outside, get a roof over your head. What’s wrong with that? It’s too late to visit the newsies now, but you can go the next day. You go to bed without stress clouding your brow for once, a plan already in mind. Maybe the tides are shifting in your favor after all.

You’ve seen the Brooklyn Lodging House a few times before, so you’re able to find it without too much difficulty. You chose to visit during the late afternoon, when most of the boys are taking a break. They look up at you suspiciously when you first enter, and after clearing your throat and announcing to the general room why you’re there, one of them stands up to greet you.

He introduces himself as Hotshot, the second in command around the Brooklyn newsies. When you tell him you’re there for a job, Hotshot just nods, and starts to lead you towards the back of the building.

“Spot Conlon’s in charge around here. If you want to stay with us, you’ll have to talk with him.”

You’d been a little worried about this. You’ve heard the rumors about Spot Conlon, every working kid in the city has. They say he’s quicker to a fight than a bullet to the barrel, and his temper’s like a firecracker- fast to the flash, impossible to cool down. You don’t know how well your meeting will go, but if you want to stick around, you’ll have to win Spot over.

Hotshot stops in front of a closed door, and raps his knuckles on it. “We’se got a new kid here, Spot. They say they want a spot to sell papes with us.”

A vague sound of approval comes from within the door, and Hotshot nods to you.

He must be able to sense your stress, because he cracks a grin. “Don’t worry about it, honest. Spot’ll be fine so long as you don’t do something stupid.”

With those words of wisdom, Hotshot taps his cap once as if in salute and turns off back down the hall. You open the door, still glancing over your shoulder at him, and so you don’t see the boy in the room until a few seconds too late.

Instantly, your nervous smile drops. Surely, it cannot be. Surely, Spot Conlon, the number one newsie in Brooklyn and perhaps even all of New York, isn’t that insufferable from before, the one who’d run into you. Yet he’s right here, grinning now as he remembers just how he knows you.

You sigh. “It’s you.”

Spot spreads his arms. “It’s me. Lovely to see you again, darling. I missed you.”

You do your best to swallow back your anger. “I bet you did.”

You’d like nothing more than to storm out of this room and never see this far-too-proud boy again, but you need this job, more than you care to admit. So, you force yourself to stand up straighter.

“I’d like a job as a newsie. I'm a good worker, you don’t have to worry about me.”

Spot raises an eyebrow. “A good worker, huh? Got a fast temper, too. I saw that for myself.”

You give him a look. “If you’re just going to mess with me, I’ll go.”

He holds up his hands as if in surrender. “Hey, sweetheart, I’m just kidding around. Honestly, if you can’t take a joke, how are you going to roll with us? Maybe I’m not sure you’re up to the task.”

You stalk closer to him. “I am very much up to the task. Bet I can sell papes like nobody you’se seen before.”

Spot has the audacity to grin. “You sure about that? I’se seen a lot of people.”

You fold your arms across your chest. “No one like me.”

He considers this for a moment, then smirks. “I’d tend to agree with that. You know what, I’m in a forgiving mood. I’ll forget all about how you argued with me out of nowhere two days ago, and even let you join our ranks. I’m nice that way.”

Your mouth opens to complain about how you weren’t arguing with Spot for no reason, he literally ran into you, but Spot holds up a warning finger and you remember just who he is. This is the kid who’d rather fight a dozen guys than back down, right? You can’t go challenging him on just anything, no matter how much you wish you could.

You plaster on a calm smile and hold out a hand for him to shake. “It’s a deal.”

Spot’s grin broadens, as if he can sense just how much irritation he’s causing you and revels in it.

“It’s a deal,” He repeats, and shakes your hand.

If he holds on to you for just a few moments longer than he has to, it’s just to bother you some more. No other reason.

Despite your initial misgivings when you realized this meant Spot would technically be the boss of you, you’re actually having a great time as a newsie. True to your word, you quickly become one of Spot’s best sellers. He knows it too, even if he doesn’t like to admit it. All it takes is one grin and a wink, and you’ve got even the stingiest businessmen handing you coins for the day’s pape.

The life of it, too, is just wonderful. You found a new family in the Brooklyn newsboys, one that has your back without a second thought. If some boy won’t stop hollering at you, all it takes is one word and they’re leading a charge against him. One time, you absentmindedly mentioned that some man was staring and freaking you out, and the next day, your stalker was so battered and bruised that you hardly recognized him. The strangest part of that was that Spot’s knuckles were spotted with red right after that, but he didn’t say a word about the matter, so you just gave it up.

Spot. Some days you can’t decide whether or not he’s your best friend or your worst enemy. Every one of the Brooklyn newsies swears up and down that they can’t believe Spot lets you get away with so much, that if they argued with him half as often as you they’d end up hanging off the Brooklyn Bridge by their ankles.

At the same time, Spot seems to find pleasure in tormenting you, issuing sarcastic comments and cheeky jokes that push all your buttons. One day, he’ll spend hours talking with you out on the fire escape, and the next, he’ll steal your newsie caps so you just have to go beg him for a new one, only to tease you about being so reckless with your stuff.

It’s good, though, it’s great. You’ve felt more free than you have in years. It stuns you, sometimes, just how big of a burden you were carrying until you know what it’s like to live without it. You smile and laugh more than you have in so long that your cheeks hurt when you go to sleep at last, and your dreams are blissfully quiet of worries.

It’s a sunny day now, a beautiful morning straight out of one of the papes you’re trying to sell. You’ve already gotten through a good amount, right on track as per usual. You’re looking around for the next customer, and you see a new victim at last, just turning onto your street.

You won’t be selling to this fellow, though, he’s a friend of yours. In the time since you joined the Brooklyn newsies, Hotshot has quickly become one of your favorites of the red-shirted ranks. He looked out for you at the beginning, back when you were still getting your footing in the fast-moving world of the newsboys, and you’ve grown to appreciate his company.

Hotshot grins at you when he sees you. “How’re you doing, Y/N? Sold a few today?”

You hold up your bag of papes so he can see how many are gone. “A fair amount. How about yourself?”

He shrugs. “Not too bad. We can’t all be Y/N, master seller, you know.”

You roll your eyes. “You could if you tried.”

Hotshot jokingly folds his arms across his chest. “And how do I do that, out of curiosity.”

You flash him a triumphant look. “You grab some extras from kids who aren’t looking.”

With that, you neatly slide two or three papers out of Hotshot’s bag, tucking them into your own satchel. His eyes open dramatically, and he lunges at you to get them back. You’re anticipating the attack, though, and take off running down the street, a laugh tearing out of your throat. You wheel around streetlamps and empty vendor’s carts, and the only heartbeat you need is the sound of your footsteps on the brick and cobblestones.

At last, though, Hotshot’s hand latches onto your bag, pulling you into an abrupt stop. “Give those back, you thief.”

You laugh, handing back the pilfered newspapers. “I don’t think you’re being very supportive of me. I’m just trying to make a living, you know.”

Hotshot snorts. “So am I.”

The two of you are standing there, grinning at each other with Hotshot’s hand still resting on the strap of your bag near your shoulder, when you hear a pointed cough. Instantly, you two whip around to see Spot stalking towards you, looking icy.

Hotshot grimaces. “I think I’m going to head out. See you around, Y/N.”

You go to complain about him ditching you in the face of trouble, but the boy’s already gone.

Spot has reached you by now, and he looks irate. “Why aren’t you selling papes?”

You sigh, frustrated. “Because nobody’s on the streets right now. I’m fine, Spot. Go bother somebody else.”

Spot’s face grows even colder, if that was possible. “Stop messing around with Hotshot like that. You’re supposed to be focused.”

You want to laugh. “Are you kidding me? We were just talking. That’s not a crime.”

Spot scoffs. “He was flirting with you, and a lot. You’ll scare off the customers.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Spot, that’s a lie and you know it. There are no customers to scare, and even if they were, two friends talking isn’t going to freak them out. Man, what is your problem today?”

Spot’s jaw clenches. “What’s my problem? You’re the one who won’t stop arguing with me. You’ll notice that Hotshot’s already back to his section, and no one else picks a fight like you do.”

You give him a look. “If you want me to be more obedient, just say that. You might be able to have the other newsies hanging on your every word, but I’m not like that.”

Spot throws his hands in the air. “You think I don’t know that? It’s like I can’t go a day without you causing problems.”

Your face hardens. “Then why did you even hire me in the first place? You’re the one who signed me on. Why’d you do it, some sort of power play? You wanted to make me regret ever seeing you on that street corner, and now I have to follow your every command.”

Spot looks away. “It wasn’t a power play.”

You let out a harsh breath. “Then what was it? Don’t tell me it’s because you genuinely enjoy my company, you prove that wrong every day.”

His anger is gone now, cooled off by some sort of hurt that’s replacing every bit of rage on his face. “What if it was?”

You do laugh now. “Why would I believe you? You just showed up here to tell me off for having a good time with my friend, then you yelled at me for not following your orders. I don’t think I get your point.”

Spot rubs a tired hand over his face. “That was different. He was-”

His voice trails off, but you aren’t going to let this go so easily. “He was what? You can’t just act like you care and then get mad at me over nothing.”

Spot’s voice is quiet now. “I’m not acting.”

You’re startled into silence, and Spot takes this as the motivation to keep going. “I’m not acting, and I didn’t have you join the newsies because I wanted to feel like I was better than you or something. I told you to stay the first time because I thought you were far too pretty of a girl to be so unafraid of me, and I want you to stay now because I can’t seem to stop thinking about you, even when I think you’re interested in someone else.”

Your voice is soft now, matching his. “Someone like Hotshot.”

Spot nods. “Exactly.”

It is silent, then, as you try to grapple with everything you just learned. At the end, you only manage a few more words. “I like you too, you know.”

At last, he meets your eyes once more. “You do?”

You nod slowly. “Maybe I like feeling like I am special. To you. Maybe I haven’t been picking fights because I don’t like you, just because I wanted to see you taken aback.”

Spot is quiet one more moment, then laughs. It’s a genuine laugh, so unlike the bloody-fisted boy in front of you that it surprises you. “I’m starting to think that you really are a sweetheart. How cute.”

You want to argue with him, but then he’s stepping forward and kissing you and you can’t quite find it within yourself to fight anymore. Sure, it’s fun to quarrel and watch his eyes flash when he’s mad, and it’s certainly fun to tease him, but this is better than all that by far. Something about the feeling of his hands drifting towards your hips, pulling you closer, makes you feel like you are the only one on this earth who matters to him.

And who knows, maybe you are. He’s proving it to you right now.

newsies tag list: @lovesanimals0000

#spot conlon #spot conlon imagines #incorrect newsies quotes #spot conlon oneshot #newsies imagine #news in hindi #newsies x reader #newsies oneshot #newsies spot #newsies spot imagines #newsies spot x reader #newsies spot oneshot #newsies live #newsies live imagines #newsies live x reader #newsies live oneshot

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buckydeniro · 3 years

Text

This Is Trouble

part 1

dad’sbestfriend!bucky barnes x reader

a/n: okay, i’m prettyyy new to writing and this is my first jab at writing a series or something that isn’t a hc so please be gentle with me. this could be complete shit and suck ass but ya know what, oh well! i’m a slut for dad’sbestfriend!bucky so here ya go! i really hope you enjoy it!! :-)

summary: you didn’t plan this. he didn’t either. you thought you would come home from college, spend some time with your dad, and find a place for yourself to live. but you soon found yourself in a sexual tension filled challenge with your dad’s best friend. but what happens when feelings develop and they become too strong to deny?

"Dad." You groan as he covers your eyes with his hands. You had just graduated college and after a few days spent packing up your stuff from your apartment near school and saying your goodbyes to your friends, you're finally back home. Your dad had the biggest grin on his face when he picked you up and you had a feeling he was up to something even though he swore he wasn't.

Now with his hands over your eyes in front of the door of your childhood home, you knew he was up to something.

"What's going on?" You ask, hearing the sound of people shuffling and a few shushing each other behind the door. "I know you hate surprises but you're back home so you're going to have to deal with it for the sake of your poor dad who has missed his daughter." You chuckle, a smile pulling at your lips.

You loved your dad. Your mom left when you were fairly young, hadn't even hit the double digits age range yet before her and your dad decided it was best to part ways. She never called or wrote, just left. But you made your way with your dad.

The sound of the door opening shakes you from your thoughts. Your dad removing his hands from your eyes to reveal a moderate sized group of family and friends before you.

Your eyes go big the exact moment they all yell out "Surprise!!" A red hot blush rushes to your cheeks and you smile bashfully, never having been one to like being the center of attention. You don't catch it but if you did you would have seen your dads best friend leaning against the kitchen doorway, lips moving up into a smile at your reaction.

"Okay, this was a pretty good surprise." Your smile blooms from shy and uncomfortable to happy and touched. You immediately hug your father, "Thank you. So much."

He gives you a tight squeeze causing you to choke out, "Dad." Chuckling at him as he lets go, letting air refill your lungs.

"I'm gonna give you some time with everyone. Good luck." With a kiss to the side of your head, Everyone begins rushing up, congratulating you, hugging you, commenting on how much you've grown and changed.

After nodding at one of the older womans dramatized comments about how she could hardly recognize you now, you feel someone watching you. Your eyes smoothly and quickly find Bucky, and you're almost thrown off actual physical balance at how good he looks. Holy shit. You swallow, your stomach doing a flip. Okay, what the fuck was that, stomach?

Not only have you changed but so as he. You breathe in through your nose as you take him in. The light stubble dancing on his jaw, a tight black shirt, the chains of his dog tags peaking out from the shirts collar. See he still wears those, you think to yourself. His black jeans matching his black boots have you trying not to bite your lip. You blink and quickly turn away, zoning back into the atmosphere around you.

He's always been attractive but jesus, when did he get that attractive. I guess you've both grown.

Apparently the lady, Lila, had still been talking to you, unaware your attention was pulled elsewhere for a moment. Firing questions off at you at a rapid speed, not stopping to hear your answers. So she's basically just having a conversation with herself and you've been deemed the appropriate audience for aome reason.

You hear footsteps coming towards you, flicking your eyes up, you see Bucky walking and stopping right in front of you. Oh my god. He smells amazing. No. What the fuck are you thinking? Reign it in, Y/N.

"Lila, don't wear the poor girl out." His bright, friendly smile drifting from her to you and you can't help the smile mirroring his on your lips. "Oh, I'm not." She chides, squeezing your arm softly with affection, "But I'll go." She playfully sighs and walks away.

Bucky's eyes haven't left yours, that contagious smile still on his face. "Welcome home, kid." That Brooklyn drawl has you biting your lip as you smile. It was a completely innocent movement, a habit you picked up a few years ago but it causes Bucky to look down at your lips, quickly flicking his gaze back to you as he inhales, mentally shaking thoughts from his head.

"Thank you, Mr. Barnes." You say politely. Bucky pulls a face and laughs, causing you to laugh along with him. Why is everything he does so contagious? He shakes his head as he speaks. "No, no, kid. Call me Bucky."

You nod your head once before pulling a face of your own. "Okay, but you can't call me 'kid' anymore. I'm 22, Bucky." The new 'title' leaving your mouth like an acception to a challenge.

He nods his head, lifting his hands up in mock defence, smirking at the way you said his name.

"Okay, okay. I got it. Y/N." His voice falls soft, almost sounding like he just found out what your name was and was calling you by it for the first time.

"Ah, Y/N, see you've caught up with Buck." Your dad grins, slapping a friendly hand on Bucky's shoulder. "Come on, party is out back."

Steve leads the way, both you and Bucky following. You purse your lips, fighting off a smile and Bucky snorts. "Party." You say quietly, glancing at Bucky as he retorts back speaking quietly so your dad doesn't hear, "Oh yeah, it's raging, can't you tell? Might just give them college parties of yours a run for their money."

You hum in acknowledgement, "You might be right, Barnes. But, I have been to some good ones."

"Barnes, huh?" You can't quite read the look on his face. All you know is that you're both looking at each other with some kind of playfulness, like the beginning of a new game has just started and you're on opposing sides.

"Mhm. Barnes." You overly dictate the 'B' in his name, drawing the 'A' out a bit, making a clicking sound with the side of your mouth, your focus forward.

Your dad turns around, clapping you softly on the shoulder, "Have fun, hon. One of the guys is calling for me. Sam! I'm coming!" You watch as your dad huffs, jogging up to his friend, swatting the spatula away from his hands, focus on the grill Sam was, I guess, butchering.

"So, you still do that." You turn your head back to Bucky, furrowing your eyebrows a little, tilting your head slightly, confusion lightly appearing on your face. "Do what?"

He puts his gloved covered hands into his jacket pockets, clearing his throat, "You make that sound when you're focusing on something or are nervous." There's a slight pause before he speaks up again. "You nervous with the get together or bein' back home or somethin'?"

You didn't realize you even did that. You were a little nervous but it wasn't because of the party your dad threw for you. It was because of Bucky. It's a good nervous but it confuses you none the less.

"Yeah. Just being back home." You nod, lips tugging up at the corner for a smile. "The change and everything."

Bucky doesn't look quite convinced but lets it go. Your attention is drawn forward, wanting to look anywhere but Bucky. The way he looks at you was fogging up your brain.

"You still wear the dog tags."

This time he tilts his head, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. "I can notice things too, Bucky." You whisper with a smile, your attention turning back to him, causing him to chuckle.

"Well, they are mine, Doll." You both freeze. Fuck, he thinks. It just slipped out. He couldn't help it. He's fucked it now, shit. But you chew on your bottom lip, fighting back a smile but the hint of it is there and Bucky catches it and feels as if he can breathe again.

"Doll, huh?" You repeat his words back to him.

With a slight cocky tilt of his head, a subtle smirk and something dancing in both of your eyes, he throws it right back at you. Repeating your own words, the exact way you said them to him, "Mhm. Doll."

Before you could react, say anything, he had turned and casually walked away, yelling a hello at one of his and your dad's old friends and although you couldn't see his face, he had the biggest smirk on it. You let out a breath, not knowing what to make of yours and his interaction.

It was Bucky. Just Bucky. Your dad's best friend. He was just being friendly and teasing. Normal. But as you walk to grab a beer from the cooler near by, you can't help but question a little, "Right?"

Straightening your back, you feel eyes on you and you immediately know whose they are. Turning your head, you lock eyes with the brown haired man, taking a swig of his beer.

Your brain repeating the question again, "..Right?"

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #bucky barnes au x reader #bucky barnes hc #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #dadsbestfriend!bucky x reader #dadsbestfriend!buckybarnes #dadsbestfriend!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnea angst #marvel masterlist #bucky barnes masterlist

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tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 3 years

Text

Surprising News | dad!Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You and Bucky hit it off and later get some surprising news.

A/N: So i received a request for a dad!bucky barnes x reader about taking your daughter to the park and it stirred a lot of dad!bucky ideas. So I wrote this one to start off with and will now work on dad!bucky & reader taking their daughter to the park. I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did writing it! xx

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

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(a/n: this man will be the death of me. How dare someone look this FREAKING ATTRACTIVE)

Bucky decided like Steve to go live a normal life, one he deserved and missed out on. After multiple failed dates, where the chemistry wasn’t there, she never showed or he just couldn’t see himself interested in her, he was ready to give up. Until he met you.

You two met at a small restaurant & bar in Brooklyn. You were stood up on a date and had to give up your table so you’d made your way to the bar and it just so happened you took the open seat next to Mr. James Bucky Barnes.

The two of you hit it off pretty quickly and Bucky realized all those failed dates were leading to you, to this. You two talked the night away until the bar closed their doors. Neither of you wanted this night to end and Bucky took the lead to ask if you’d like to come back to his apartment.

“I could cook breakfast?” He adds with a smile.

“This better not be your way of kidnapping me and killing me.” You warn, “I can kick your ass if I need too.”

He chuckles and holds his arm out for you, “I cook a mean omelet is all.”

You hum in response and loop your arm through yours, “Okay, Bucky Barnes, I’m trusting you.”

And he led you to his apartment where the two of you did indeed sit down to have a mean omelet, but the chemistry and sexual tension was there and the two of you ended the night and started off the next morning in his bed wrapped in the sheets.

He about dropped to his knees at the sight of you walking into his kitchen in only his shirt. “I see you found my shirt?”

“well you see..” You wrap your arm around his middle from behind, “someone ripped my shirt last night.”

He slowly turns to face you, “I’m really sorry about that.” He blushes remembering how his hormones got the best of him and he’d ripped the shirt in half to get it off you.

You shrug, standing on your tip toes to place a kiss on his lips, “I like your shirt better.”

His hands rub your lower back, his flesh hand slipping underneath the shirt, “I would offer another omelet but I used up all the eggs last night. So, I’m proposing breakfast at the diner around the corner?”

You give his middle a squeeze, “I worked up a pretty good appetite so yes, sounds delicious.” You step away from him, “I’m going to steal this. I hope you know that.” You motion to his shirt.

“Looks better on you anyways, doll.”

That one night was only a few months ago and Bucky was the happiest he’d ever been. He knew he’d been upset at the failed dates but now, he’s grateful that they failed because they led to you.

He laid out the other night everything he wanted you to know about his past and when he’d expected you to run away in fear, you’d hugged him and told him, “You’re free now; You’re not the Winter Soldier anymore.”

It was in that moment he knew that he loved you.

The knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts and when he answered it he was surprised to find you standing there with tear stained cheeks. His immediate response was to hit someone for hurting you, but he pushed that aside.

“Doll? What’s wrong?” He frowns and you push passed him into the apartment, “I thought I was coming to pick you up.”

“Bucky I want you to know this.. this was never my intention and if you want out, I understand.”

“What?” He furrows his eyebrows, taking the step toward you, but you pulled from him, “No, hear me out first. We’ve only just started getting serious and if this.. if this scares you I’m giving you an out and it’s okay.” He watches as your eyes well up with tears, “I can do it on my own. I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay with me because of it. It will only make things worse on me.”

“Doll, you’re freaking me out. What’s the matter? Talk to me.”

And that’s when you hold the pregnancy test out in front of you.

He knows exactly what it is as he takes it, but asks anyways, “What’s this?” He sees a plus sign.

“it’s positive, Bucky. I’m so sorry.. I never meant for this to happen.”

The gears in his head are shifting, but how is this even possible? He thought the super soldier serum would make him infertile and not be able to have kids. Which is why he didn’t bother with protection that first night the two of you met. You’d also told him you were on birth control. He is obviously very fertile.

You’re expecting him to blow up, blame it on you and say how you’ve ruined his life, his single life. That’s why you wanted to make sure he knew he had an out. You didn’t want him to feel guilty and stay; it was something that in the end would be harmful to both of you and your little one’s life.

He’s still staring at the stick, “so you’re pregnant.” He brings his eyes to meet yours.

You give a silent nod, here it comes. The outburst.

“I’m gonna be a dad?” His mouth forms a smile, “We’re going to have a kid?”

What? “You.. you’re not mad?” By the sound of his voice, he actually sounds excited.

“Why would I be mad? This is amazing.” He attacks you with a hug, “We’re going to have a baby, aren’t you excited?”

You pull back to look up at him, “you’re not going to blame me for ruining your life or.. or tell me I did this on purpose.”

“No! God no. Why would I do that? I mean we’re going to be parents,” He holds the test, looking at it once more, “It’s all i’ve ever wanted. Are you not excited?”

And like a cloud had been lifted off you, you could finally be excited. Truly excited, “yes of course I’m excited! I didn’t know how you would react and I was scared you have an outburst of anger toward me so I didn’t let myself get too excited.”

“We’re gonna be parents.” He says again, still staring at you in disbelief, but a smile on his face.

You laugh and nod, “We’re going to be parents!” You jump into his arms and he holds you against him as he spins you.

He stops spinning you and gently puts you back on your feet, “God I love you.”

Your hand cups his cheek as you stare lovingly into his blue eyes, “I love you, Bucky.”

comments, likes & reblogs greatly appreciated xx

Marvel tag list: @hommoturttle , @iheartsebastianstan , @5jacobm5 , @lovely-geek , @fangirl-swagg , @1-800-thanos , @jessyballet , @katiaw2 , @yaskna , @dpaccione , @peachyxlynch , @kaitieskidmore1 , @gengen64 , @mela1648

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#bucky barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #dad!bucky barnes x reader #dad!bucky barnes #dad!bucky #bucky barnes imagines #marvel imagines #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fic

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buckys-black-dress · 3 years

Text

inked

a/n: here she is!!! while i work on afl, here is my crackfic on tattoo artist bucky!! if u haven’t caught on yet, most of my writing is au’s because of all the possibilites in terms of scenarios and storylines. anyways, i hope you enjoy, lovies!!! xoxo, ali <3

wc: 2.8k

[tattoo artist!bucky x fem!reader]

It was like an addiction.

Your first tattoo you got was simple. It was a dainty, small one on your wrist.

But now, it was slowly developing into a sleeve.

Not that you minded, though. Your forearm was slowly becoming filled with designs that you kept going back and getting here and there.

And at the tattoo parlor near your apartment in Brooklyn, you had become a regular at this point.

It was called B&R Tattoo Shop, and it was run by two of the kindest, but most attractive men you’ve ever met.

You’ve come to find out after getting to know the owners, that they opened the shop a bit after they returned from their second tour in the army and wanted to settle back in their hometown.

Steve and James were hospitable to you, especially when they first met you. Steve was the one to meet you and speak with you at first, but he handed you off to James, or Bucky as he asked you to call him, because he was the artist at their shop that specialized in more of what you were looking for in terms of style.

As far as first tattoo conversations go, you and Bucky got to know each other pretty well in one session. The tattoo itself took less than an hour, but it felt like Bucky was... prolonging it in a way, like he wanted to keep you there longer.

As you swung open the door of the shop, you were greeted by their piercer, Natasha.

“Hey, back for another already?” She smirks from her spot behind the desk. While she wasn’t piercing, she usually worked the front if there was no one else free.

Your first tattoo had been done by Bucky, and you instantly fell in love.

With the tattoo.

Well, Bucky too. Just a little bit.

He was extremely soothing and eased you into the process of tattooing you. He told you when something was going to happen, and as soon as you got used to the feeling of the needle against your skin.

The more he talked to you, the less pain you felt. It was already not that painful, but you almost forgot about it with him talking to you. When he looked up to you as he finished, you looked like a confused puppy.

“Okay, all done, doll.” Bucky looked up at you, moving to turn off his machine.

“Oh... that was fast.” You furrowed your brows.

“Well, yeah, we moved pretty fast since it was a pretty small piece.” He explains, grabbing a paper towel and the anti-bacterial spray.

“Do you mind if I take a quick picture of it? I usually do, for my portfolio.” Bucky asks, inspecting the tattoo closely once again.

“Oh, yeah, that’s fine.” You wait for him to pull out his camera, take the picture, and he comes back with a piece of plastic film in his hand.

“Okay, so this saniderm has to stay on for about three days. This is how it’ll heal, and when you take it off just wash it up with a gentle soap and use a cream without any fragrance or any of that crap. I can give you a little of that spray if you wanna use it to clean it up if you ever feel like it’s dirty.” Bucky explains, giving you a mini bottle of the antibacterial spray.

“Thank you,” you say, moving to sit up in the chair. “How much do I owe you?”

“Uh, just about $40.” Bucky says without eye contact, heading to the computer at the front counter.

“$40? That’s it? When I signed the waiver it said the shop minimum was $75...?” You wonder out loud.

“Let’s just say you get a special discount, doll.” He smirks, typing something into the computer and only sparing you a glance.

“O-Oh. Alright.” You say sheepishly, handing him your credit card.

“Okay, you’re all set. Hopefully I’ll see you again soon.” He tells you with a gentle smile. It really contrasted his aura; a big, beefy guy with a metal prosthetic arm, covered in probably hundreds of tattoos. But here he was, smiling like sunshine.

“I think I will be. Have a nice day, Bucky.”

“You too, sweetheart.” He gives you that smirk again, making you feel like you might actually pass out. And not because you just had a needle jabbed into your skin for almost an hour.

“Uh, I already talked to Bucky for my session today. I know I’m a bit early, I can wait if he’s still working on someone else.” You tell Natasha with a smile.

“Sure, let me get you your waiver.” She says, and you plop down into one of the chairs at the front and pulling out your book to pass time after filling out the form.

After a few minutes, Bucky emerges with a girl from his little tattooing corner.

You hear his voice first, looking up from the book while he talks to her.

“Okay, since this was your first piece and pretty small, I’ll only charge ya $55 for it, doll.” Bucky tells the girl with a smile, and you immediately feel a pang in your chest.

You didn’t want to say you were jealous, but goddamn it, your breathing became just a little more shallow at the sight you were currently witnessing.

Even Natasha and Steve turned their heads to him, confused looks on both of their faces.

“Oh! Y/N, you’re here! C’mon back, I’m sure Nat already set you up with your waiver.” You nod, not saying a word as you follow him to the familiar chair.

“So, are we still doing what we discussed on the phone?” Bucky asks, setting up his area to tattoo you.

“Actually, I was thinking something different.” You say sharply.

“Different?” The shock is evident on his features.

“Yeah. Different. Just want a little something on my collarbone.” You say, sitting down.

“O-Okay... what were you thinking of?” He asks, pulling out his sketchbook.

“I want an olive branch, going from here to here.” You show him where you want it to start and end. It was a bit of a stretch right across the left side of your chest. “Something simple and minimal. I’ve been thinking of starting the top of my sleeve, this might be a good way to transition into it.” You say nonchalantly.

“Uhm... alright. How does this look?” Bucky asks, showing you his sketch. “I would, of course, add more detail to your liking, just let me know.”

“Yeah, I want some more shading, please.” You say shortly. You honestly weren’t trying to be mean, but you were irritated.

But in the end, you really had no right to be.

After almost ten sessions with Bucky, he hasn’t made any indication that he likes you the way you like him.

Sure, he calls you pet names, but he does that to everyone. Even discounts. You weren’t special. He was just being nice and doing his job.

So honestly, you had to cut the act here.

“Are you sure this is what you want? Are you saving the other design for our next session?” Bucky asks, growing more and more concerned with your odd behavior. Usually you would talk to him about your day, how work was, really anything.

“I don’t know. I think I might ask Steve to do that one instead.” You say out of spite, more than anything. You would never take a design that Bucky made specially for you to another person to tattoo on you, even if it was his own business partner.

“Wha- Why? Did I do something? You’ve been acting really weird today...” Bucky questions you carefully. “Talk to me, doll. Did you have a bad day at work?”

But that, that right there, was your breaking point. Doll.

“No, I’m fine. Let’s just get this done.” You huff, laying down after nodding to the sketch that Bucky drew out.

Bucky’s brows furrowed even further, but didn’t ask any more questions. He laid down the stencil and asked if the placement was alright. You looked in the mirror he handed you and nodded briefly.

The entire time Bucky had the machine in his hand, neither of you spoke a word. He tried to make brief conversation, but you only responded with a hum or nod.

When he finally finished up, you got up and headed to the counter without a word after looking at the finished tattoo in the mirror.

Your face was blank, emotionless, and Bucky was truly lost.

After you paid the full price of your piece, you walked out of the shop, not even sparing anyone a glance.

Once you left, the shop was dead silent. Everyone either just finished up with a client or didn’t have any at the moment, and the shop was blanketed in an extremely uncomfortable silence.

“What the hell was that, man?” Sam’s voice broke the silence, making Bucky’s head snap towards him.

“I-I... I have no idea. She was acting so...so weird today.” Bucky looked more confused than ever.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Natasha’s voice cuts through the palpable silence.

“Wh- What the hell did I do? I asked her too, and she didn’t give me an answer...” Bucky mumbles.

“Do you like her?” She fires back with a fire in her eyes.

“W-Well, yeah. She’s a regular.” Bucky answers, looking at his fiddling hands.

“Not like that, you dunce. You know what I mean, don’t act dumb.” Natasha rolls her eyes.

Bucky sighs, not making eye contact yet again.

“I-... I do like her.” He says. “But I don’t think she feels the same.”

“Jesus fucking Christ... You really are a dumbass.” Sam sighs out.

Steve snorts at his words, nodding in agreement.

“Buck, she got jealous.” He explains, shaking his head at his best friend’s obliviousness.

“J-Jealous? Of what?” Bucky scoffs in shock.

“That girl you had right before her. Gave her a discount, called her pet names. The whole shabang.” Natasha points out to him. “Also, you gotta stop giving out discounts like that. You’ll lose more money than you’re makin’.” Natasha scoffs.

“Wh- But... She never said anything...?” Bucky thinks back to all the times you’ve sat in his chair. You never made any indication that you were outwardly interested in him.

“I think she said enough today without actually saying much.” Steve laughs. His friend was a real idiot.

“I... But, why didn’t she say anything before?” Bucky asked.

“Buck, you never said anything either. I guess that when she heard you talk to that girl like that, she thought you really didn’t like her like that at all. You treated that girl the same way you treat her.” Natasha explains to Bucky, who had a look of realization on his face.

“But... I was just... being nice...” He says with his head in his hands.

“Well, now she thinks you do that with all you clients, so...” Sam says, making the brunet’s head shoot up.

“Fuck. Fuck. I fucked up everything!” He exclaims. “I-I do like her!”

“Well, don’t tell us that, tell her!” Sam shouts back to him, and before Bucky can process, he’s pulling out his phone and dialing your phone number.

“C’mon, pick up, pick up,” He mumbles repeatedly, but the call goes to voicemail. “Fuck.”

“Not pickin’ up?” Steve questions, coming to the front and picking up the shop phone. “Gimme her number, she’s doesn’t have to shop saved to her phone, right?”

“No, I don’t think she does.” Bucky says, watching as Steve dials your number.

“Hello?” Your voice sounds annoyed as it filters through the phone. “Who’s this?”

“Uh, Y/N! Hi!” Steve speaks, looking at Bucky in a panic, his facial expression screaming, ‘talk to her!’

“Steve? What’s up?” You ask, wondering what he needed.

“You uhh... you forgot your book here!” He blurts out, trying to find an excuse, but quickly found one upon seeing your book resting on the seat where you were waiting.

“O-Oh... I guess I’ll just turn around. I’ll be there in a few. Thanks, Steve.” You say, ready to hang up.

“O-Okay. Bye, Y/N.” He clears his throat, hanging up. “You have like, ten minutes to get your shit together and talk to her when she gets here. Good luck.” Steve pats Bucky on the shoulder, ready to haul Natasha and Sam to the back to give you two some privacy.

Bucky thought that this was the longest ten minutes of his life, and he was trying to conjure up a speech in his head to confess to you.

Finally, when you did appear through the doors, you looked lost. You only saw Bucky, which made you even more aggravated from the fact that you had to turn back around.

You were ready to head home and wallow in peace, but alas, you wanted your book.

Bucky just watched as you picked up the book from his grasp across the desk, your eyes not meeting his while he kept his gaze on you very intently.

Just as you turned around to leave, Bucky’s voice cut through the unbearable silence.

“Y/N?” He simply asks, and you feel like the wind’s been knocked out of your lungs at the sound of his small voice. This wasn’t the Bucky you knew and... loved.

“Yes, James?” You simply respond, and Bucky cringes at the sound of his first name being used.

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

“...Why? Is everything alright?” And although your voice didn’t give it away, you felt your heart drop to your stomach. Any possible scenario popped into your head. He has a girlfriend. He’s gonna tell you he doesn’t wanna see you anymore. He-

“E-Everything’s fine, doll. Just wanted to tell you that... That I...” Bucky’s voice sounded strained, like there was something caught in his throat.

“Bucky, just spit it out.” You say, wanting to leave already.

“It’s just- I like you. A lot. And I’m so sorry for earlier with that other client. I was just trying to be nice, but I realized how that looked to you, and I never thought anything of it because I didn’t know if you liked me back or-” Bucky was rambling, and your eyes were wide as saucers.

“Bucky, Bucky stop. Let me talk before you drive your own head in with conclusions,” you say, resting your hand on top of his on the desk.

“I like you a lot, too. I didn’t think you like me either because of that girl before me. You just- you treated her the same way you treated me, and I got jealous. I know I didn’t have the right to be, but it just made me think that... that you didn’t feel the same way about me, that I was just another client to you. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions, and also for being kind of a bitch to you...” Now you were the one rambling, your hands flying all over the place in explanation.

“D-Doll, I never wanted to make you feel that way. I’m sorry, too. I should’ve told you before, before I almost blew everything with you that we’ve been building these past months.” He says placing one large tattooed hand and one metal hand on the sides of your face. “But I’m not gonna miss my chance again. Y/N, would you like to go on a date with me?”

“I-I would love to, Bucky. Took you long enough to ask me.” You giggle, holding onto the hands on your face.

“Yeah, well, I’m kind of an idiot, if you haven’t already noticed.” He laughs, gazing into your eyes with a look that almost turned you to mush in his hands.

“Do... do ya wanna go now?” You ask, nodding your head to the door.

“Sure, let me go grab my jacket from the back.” He tells you, and you nod, watching as he keeps his eyes on you until he disappears to the back.

“My man, who would’ve thought you’d finally man up?” Sam ridicules him as soon as Bucky appears.

“Dude, shut up. I got a date to get to, see you losers later.” He rolls his eyes, moving back out where you’re smiling at him.

“Ready, angel?” Bucky asks, slipping his hand into yours.

“Ready, handsome.” You reply, and as soon as you step out into the fall air, you plant a kiss on his cheek. “Where to, lover boy?”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fic #tattoo artist!bucky #tattoo artist!bucky barnes #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst

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imerdwarf · 3 years

Text

Sworn To Secrecy

Requested by @imagine-all-the-fandoms: Hey colleague ❤️ I really love your writing! So I also thought to send you an idea 😊 The reader is Bucky’s girlfriend but just a normal civilian and he keeps it a secret at the compound. One day she visits him but crosses the other Avengers and Sam is immediately flirting with you but Bucky just comes, swoops you in his arms and kisses you. The others are shocked and confused and later that day they finally tell them they’ve been together for a while now and they are all happy for you two? 😊

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Civilian!Reader (Modern AU)

Warnings: Absolutely none! Just a lot of fluff 🥰

Author's Notes: Thank you so much my dear friend for sending in this beautiful request, I hope you like it and please let me know if there's anything you want me to change! 💜

Your phone vibrated in the palm of your hand and your smile reached both corners of your eyes when you saw the name light up your screen.

Bucky: I can't wait to see you, how long until you get here?

Your fingers flew quickly over the touch sensitive keyboard to reply back, without any typos might I add.

Y/N: I'm five minutes away. Patience! ;)

The wind blew in your face as you tilted your head upwards and sighed. Your relationship with Bucky Barnes was absolutely not the easiest thing in the world. He had made you sworn to secrecy about it, to protect yourself and him from potential haters and enemies.

You were grateful that you were able to spend a lot of time together when he didn't have month-long missions to go on. The sunny afternoons were spent in your small apartment on the couch watching movies with a blanket draped over the two of you, often accompanied by a hot chocolate made from his secret recipe.

Everything about Bucky screamed safety; his big beefy frame, bulging biceps that he just knew you loved and deliberately bought small sizes to show them off, his thick thighs were a dream for you whenever you draped your legs over them to get comfortable. Nothing about him scared you, not even that matte black and gold Wakandan inspired arm of his. It did wonders when you were burning up with fevers.

You met Bucky by chance at a coffee shop in Brooklyn. It was a cliché moment when you accidentally turned around too quickly and spilled your hot drink over his white shirt. Endless apologies spilled from your lips while Bucky was too busy admiring your beautiful features that your words simply fell on deaf ears. To Bucky, it felt as though time had temporarily stopped ticking, and the only people in the coffee shop at that moment was you and him.

The two of you exchanged numbers with your promises of buying him a brand new shirt to replace the one you ruined. You texted each other every second of every day. The more you talked, the easier and the flirty-er the texts became.

A month after the coffee shop incident, you almost keeled over when he finally asked you to be his girlfriend. He regretted he couldn't take you on a date because of his status, and that never really bothered you.

You didn't date him because he was a popular avenger, with a staggering 100 million followers on his Instagram. For your protection, he couldn't follow you either, but that too didn't bother you. You dated him because you loved his personality and you loved him.

You zig-zagged past the oncoming pedestrians as the tower came into view. Outside of the gates there was already a crowd of people hoping to catch a glimpse of the avengers.

The security guard in the booth next to the gate was trying to reason with the crowd, sadly a building this well known attracted all kinds of attention and tourism. You were told that people from Australia would come to visit.

You approached the guard with a friendly smile. "Good afternoon sir," you greeted politely, pulling some I.D out from your purse.

"Good afternoon! Are you expected here today?" The guard smiled but looked over your shoulder to see the crowd was now taking pictures of the front of the tower. He shooed them away and brought his attention back to you.

"Yes, Sergeant James Barnes is expecting me." The way his name rolled off your tongue was like drops of honey. Smooth and sweet.

The guard checked the list of visitors expected today and hummed with a smile.

"So he is. So what you do is, go to the front desk with your visitor badge and they'll direct you to his floor."

With a quiet thanks and holding on tightly to the badge, you walk through the screeching iron gates. Your shoes crunch underneath the gravel and the wind howls through the trees that gives off extra privacy.

The lady at reception greets you warmly and you relax when you give her your name and show her your visitor badge as directed by the security guard.

"Take the elevator and go to floor 13. Sergeant Barnes is currently in a meeting but he won't be too long." Another thank you passes through your lips as you head off towards the glass and chrome elevator.

The ride up to the 13 floors was agonisingly slow. Classical music filled the emptiness of the elevator. The glass casing gave you a beautiful view overlooking the grounds of the compound. A rose garden of all different shades of roses up the far left of the green garden surrounded by cherry blossoms and hydrangeas. Benches scattered across the grounds that you hoped to one day have the pleasure of sitting on and watch the bumblebees.

This was another reason Bucky loved you so much, you were so passionate and kind against wildlife and nature.

Finally, after god knows how long you've been staring out into the garden daydreaming, the elevator doors ding open and you're greeted with a muscular blond God with a red Cape hung over his back and a creepy wide grin on his face. His scruffy hair made you think he hadn't washed it in a few days.

"I was expecting someone else, but hello!" His voice seemed to boom throughout the space of whatever room this actually was. Some kind of hallway, but you're pretty sure you would hear his voice from all the way from that beautiful garden.

"Uh hello!" You stuttered, taken by surprise that there would be other people here.

"I am Thor, the God of Thunder!" His arms went wide and so did his smile. Your mouth gaped open and closed when you recognised the name. Thor. God of thunder. Of course, you read about these gods and how he ruled Asgard. Or was set to.

"Thor! Of course," you chuckled nervously, stretching your hand out in front of you, "I'm Y/N."

"It's a pleasure to meet you! Please follow me and allow me to introduce you to my mortal friends," you chuckled at that line, and adjusted your sweater.

"Friends, mortals! We have a guest, this is Y/N, A human of Earth." Thor stepped aside and your eyes widened; you were only standing in the same room as the avengers, the same people Bucky spoke so highly of. Thor told you the names of the people in front of you, everyone was there and you wondered where the hell Bucky was.

Tony was the first one to step forward and looked you up and down by moving his tinted glasses to the bridge of his nose. You relaxed when he smiled, but only slightly. You realised they had not asked why some stranger was standing in their living room.

"You know who I am?" Tony asked smugly, his arms folded over his chest.

You nodded, your eyes flickered down his chest, his arc reactor lit up in a bright blue. You almost reached out to touch it but stopped yourself before you could.

"Uh yes. You're Tony I believe?" You blushed under their gazes. Bucky told you they were the best people, but to you they were very intimidating.

"Very good. What brings you to my tower?"

"I'm here to see—"

"Wow! Who is this?" A voice yelled out from behind you. A guy you recognised as Sam, or Falcon, or Birdbrain as Bucky liked to call him.

"Y/N!" Thor answered before you could, the rest of the avengers took a seat on the couch.

"Yeah, hi," a small laugh came out and it made your cheeks heat up when his eyes raked over your form.

"My, my. You are gorgeous!" He kept that grin on his lips as he stepped closer. His over-sprayed cologne was suffocating you. "Beautiful, just perfect, just—"

"Mine!" Bucky yelled from the doorway as he stormed past Sam to get to you. You bit your lip to hide the growing grin and failed, he swooped you up in his arms, your legs instantly wrapped around his waist as he spun the two of you around and kissed you.

Cat calls sounded from the couch and you smiled into the kiss. When you pulled away for air, the expressions on everyone's faces told you they needed and wanted an explanation.

You could only imagine the questions they wanted to ask; how did you know Bucky Barnes? How did a soldier and an assassin manage to keep a relationship so hidden under the eyes of a mind-reader and a super intelligent spy? How did Bucky not slip up to Steve about having a girlfriend? All valid questions of course.

Bucky lowered you back down on your feet and pressed his forehead against yours. Without giving the team an answer, he slipped his hand in yours and pulled you away, leaving the superheroes with confusion etched upon their faces.

Bucky gave you a thorough tour of the tower. He showed you the gym, the kitchen where he made you his favourite sandwich, he even showed you his room. It was painted in a light blue with white curtains and blinds, thick, soft cream carpet covered the floor and his bed was as soft as a cloud. It was a lot more comfortable than your bed, that's for sure.

Later that day, Tony ordered a takeout and invited everyone to the dining room to eat, including you. The way Bucky's hand was slung protectively around your shoulder didn't go amiss by anyone in the room. It was when he finally sat down did the questions start.

"Alright, what's the deal with you two? Is this a prank? Is he paying you darling?" Sam fired off first, pointing his fork at the two of you opposite him.

Bucky glared at him from calling you 'darling', from where you were sat you could hear the heavy breathing. Your hand slipped into your lap and into his, giving his thigh a firm squeeze to keep calm.

"Y/N is not being paid!" Bucky defended, outraged he could even think such a thing.

You cleared your throat and took a sip of water before speaking, "it's true and I understand it's a shock but Bucky is actually my boyfriend and has been for the past couple of months," you smiled, proud of the fact you were in a relationship with this man and it was no longer secret.

"How the hell did that happen?" Tony queried, waving his chopsticks in the air, flabbergasted by the whole situation.

"What, you think I'm not capable of meeting people?" Bucky challenged, not really enjoying the interrogation which was the whole reason he didn't want to say anything at the beginning.

"Well of course I wouldn't be surprised if it was Capsicle here but it's you," Tony snorted.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Bucky was yelling and turning red with anger when Nat sought the opportunity to take the heat off the two men.

"So, Y/N. Tell us about yourself."

Tags: @smokeybluebrooke-lyn @pinkdiamond1016

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seokahwrites · 3 years

Text

NUISANCE | chapter 2 (or, i hate him so much my heart skipped a beat)

5.6k

back to nuisance masterlist

pairing.

| lawyer! jeon jungkook x lawyer! reader

summary.

| all you wished for was a relaxing two weeks in a big ass boat eating some big ass shrimps, away from the real world. but instead you’re stuck with your arch rival with no means of escape — and goddamit why does the bastard smell so good.

tags.

| 2 BROOKLYN 99 REFERENCES TELL ME IF U CATCH THEM; paragraphs dedicated to jungkooks back muscles; im so sorry like a few parts were really thirsty; but there’s a very sweet paragraph dedicated to jungkook’s smile; reader and jungkook bonding???; jealous reader; smug jungkook; love sounds like hate; a lot of plot convenience if you haven’t noticed

a/n.

| hello everyone! first off THANK U FOR THE MASSIVE SUPPORT ILY. i feel like this could’ve been better but i’m not sure how. but no they’re not moving too fast bc… well 😃😃 also i’m planning on writing more serious pieces after this series even though i’ve barely started :P anyways, i hope u all have an amazing day lots of love

“What kind of neanderthal doesn’t go outside for two days?

Jungkook asks through the open bathroom door as he’s sitting on his couch, your mouth still too foamy and minty to give him a quick-witted answer.

You spit into the sink and glare at him through the mirror, “I was being productive and I cooked horrible food all day,” you splash water on your face and pause at the door frame on your way out, “Unlike some people that spend their hours hunting for their next prey.”

You don’t stick around to watch the way he rolls his eyes, walking over to your bed to grab the orange wrap skirt and white top for today’s outfit. But you couldn’t really put it on since someone was still in the room.

There isn’t an inkling of a thought in Jungkook’s doe eyes, the time it was taking for him to get a hint was more than enough for you to pass your eyes over his black tank top, stinky green shorts and dark sandals. How did he look better than you in a tank top? Fuck him. Wait, no he doesn’t. Still, fuck Jungkook.

Once your eyes are back on him, the fiend has a shit-eating grin on his face as if he’d just caught you red-handed in the middle of a dirty sin — you were just judging him.

You raise your eyebrows in an attempt to maintain your composure, “Well?” And wave the clothes in your hands to help him understand the situation.

No sound comes from the ‘Oh’ of his lips, his small brain finally coming to terms with reality. But just before he heads out the door, “We’re having lunch at the deck,” and he doesn’t wait for an answer, slamming the door behind him.

Who the hell did he think he was?

Now, you didn't have to go along with Jungkook’s plan — hell, it was probably the last thing you wanted. However, does going to the rooftop deck to have a nice lunch and a-little-too-early drinks really sound like a bad idea?

And the answer to that question is what led you to pulling your clothes over your head and reassuring nobody but yourself that, “I’m only going because of the fucking food,” cursing Jungkook here and there too, of course.

Just before heading off, you grab the cruise’s complementary sun hat, a long string of pastel beads for your neck and your favorite pair of sunglasses — not that you were going to use them for more than keeping your hair away from your face anyways.

Breathe in, Y/N.

You’re out the door, “I’m ready.”

Your exposed skin stings as you feel Jungkook’s eyes go from your leg exposed from the slit of your skirt, to your fluttering stomach and slowly — as if he didn’t want to miss a single detail — up, up, up, until his gaze meets yours. And that look is back, the one he’s only ever used whenever he couldn’t hide what he truly felt for you: aversion.

Yet, instead of the slander you were expecting, Jungkook does nothing but shake away whatever was on his mind and lock the door. Beep, And he goes the entire way to the elevator without uttering a single word.

Still, even if the silence was deafening you don't make much of a fuss, only observing Jungkook’s silent figure as he stared ahead and around anywhere he wouldn't have to meet your eyes.

He was a pain in the ass even when he wasn't speaking.

Ding.

You’re the first to exit, part because you were excited to get a breath of fresh ocean air and part because you couldn’t stand whatever the hell was happening in the elevator.

There were half naked people everywhere, kids running around and chasing after each other through the zig zag of chairs and tables. From the wooden floor to the samples of blue and yellow on the umbrellas, cups and slides, the view was the very core of vacation.

Jungkook suddenly stands before your wide eyes and takes you by the wrist, taking the lead as he shoves his way to the stairs that lead to the highly-expected rooftop restaurant, the place safely guarded on the opposite side of all the commotion.

As your sandals flip-flopped against the wooden stairs, you start to see a flood of blue and beige chaise lounges, white coffee tables centered in the space of each one and the alabaster bar surrounded by people in all sorts of summer attire. Maybe Jungkook was onto something.

Speaking of, he grabs your shoulders — ruining the view as always — and pushes you down the first empty couch he finds. “Stay here, I’ll get us some food.”

You don't fight him on it, deciding to just let the sea breeze caress your face, closing your eyes and taking it all in. Things were nice.

That is until you look at the entrance and see Jungkook talking to the same raven-haired girl from yesterday. The sight bothers you and you can’t quite put your finger on as to why, perhaps it was because he could’ve at least had the fucking decency to not hit on people while he was ordering your food. God. Only he could put a stain to an otherwise perfect morning.

And you could’ve looked away, but just as a bee is attracted to pollen or a driver is allured with the sight of a car crash, you simply couldn’t — not that you were attracted or allured to Jungkook in any way, though.

The woman’s cotton cover up flowed with her hand as she playfully hit Jungkook on the arm. You envy her, you’d never touched an implant before. Jungkook crosses his arms at this movement, probably thinking his biceps were going to pop out even more. Your body threatens to convulse in second hand embarrassment.

But the lovebirds are interrupted when the cashier calls out for Jungkook, his order ready and trayed up. You look away and could only hope it was just in time for none of them to notice that you were ogling, but Jungkook’s mystery girl catches your stare and her angelic smile dissipates in front of your eyes. Chills, literal chills.

You feign surprise when Jungkook sits beside you, placing the tray of colorful drinks and drool-worthy pasta on the table with a clang.

“I hope the mimosas are a good enough treat for your highness,” he bows his head.

You can’t repress your squeal nor your smile as the glass meets your lips and you have a real summer drink for the first time in forever, the girl’s glare fading with every sip you take. Jungkook simply watches, amused when you down half of the drink in one go.

You’re content, only with a simple worry in your mind. “What time is it?”

Luckily Jungkook had brought a watch on his wrist, your phones long forgotten on the nightstand, “One something,” he grabbed both plates, handing over yours, “Why? Gotta run away from me again?”

You try to scoop as much chicken, sauce and pasta as you can twirl on your fork, practically salivating once you're munching down the food. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

Jungkook crosses a leg over the other as he eats the chicken from his own plate, “What are you up to today?”

Huh. You asked yourself the same thing. “I actually have no idea,” you admit, “I just saw the words massage and wine and thought ‘I have to go’.”

“Of course,” and he doesn’t sound the least bit surprised — or judgemental, at that. “You did the same exact thing at the last firm getaway.”

Your hand flies to your mouth, “Oh, God. Why would you remind me,” Jungkook is slapping his knee at a miserable attempt of stifling his laughter, “Nothing will ever compare to the misery of being surrounded by a bunch of sobbing tipsy widows.”

His laugh only booms alive and you try to convince yourself that it scratches your ears, but it doesn’t and you find yourself giggling as well. What the hell was in that mimosa?

“God, youre such a fucking idiot.”

“Lower your voice, boozer,” you slap his thigh — hurting you much more than him — and catch a few glares in your direction.

Jungkook drinks his entire glass, “Eh, screw them,” not sparing a second thought to the strangers, “Are you heading to the fifth floor again?”

The alfredo pasta in your plate has been reduced to nothing, “Yeah, why?”

“I’m heading that way too.”

You snort — you know, like a wild boar. “Gonna meet up with yesterday’s catch?”

He has a conceited smile on his face and you fear the next words to come out his mouth, “Maybe,” he places his plate on his lap and leans closer to you, his breath tickling your ear, “Jealous much?”

Scoff.

You push him away, drinking the rest of your orange juice. Scoff (again). You’ve never met someone so egotistical. How dare he?

“Don’t act like being seduced by an incubus like you is such a big deal,” you hope to poison him with your words but he only bites down a sweet smile, “And it’s not like she’s seen anything that I haven’t in the past two nights.”

Goddammit, Y/N. Where the fuck did that come from?

Jungkook drapes an arm over the couch, “Someone’s been enjoying the view.”

You try your best to scowl at the demon, but when your eyes accidentally tarry on Jungkook’s collarbones and arms — why is it always the fucking arms? — for a few moments too long, red paints your cheeks instead and you simply fiddle with your empty glass.

Jungkook’s victory weighs heavy on the lifted corners of his lips as you wait for him to finish the rest of his food — he ate like a five year old.

“This is where I leave you, I guess.”

The walk to the fifth floor was a quick one, you and Jungkook standing in front of the familiar entrance, that same chalkboard from yesterday scribbled with roses this time.

A woman is the one welcoming you at the door today, the same list and my-boss-forced-me-to smile on her face, just like yesterday’s guy.

“Ms. L/N,” she calls out as you and Jungkook come closer, “You must be the last couple to join us today!”

She manages to sneak her way behind you, pushing both of you into the dim room before her words could even reach your eardrums. Did she say couple?

Jungkook attempts to correct her, “I’m just here to drop her off—,” to no avail.

The woman has a menacing smile and look to her eyes that shuts the both of you right up, “The first activity was just about to start,” she rushes to the exit and shuts the door, but not before a friendly, “Have fun!”

Was this cruise actually full of psychos?

You and Jungkook are frozen in place, only noticing the handful of couples sitting on the floor, the petals spread across the room and romantic candles sticking out the walls, a moment too late.

“Welcome! Welcome!” An elderly woman approaches you, her short hair wrapped in a pink bandana, the boho print matching the rest of her clothes and chunky jewelry, “I’m Hattie, your instructor. Why don’t you two sit down so we can start?”

Though you're both in shock, none of you attempt to make an escape, taking quick but hesitant steps to the last empty space in the back. A flustered Jungkook is the first to talk once you’re sat down, “What the fuck, Y/N?”

Hattie seemed to have been saying something when Jungkook whispered a tad too loud, both of you putting on a smile when she looked. “I have no idea what’s happening either,” you grit through your teeth,

Once she looks away, you and Jungkook take a breather.

“I legit didn't see anything about onboard couple’s therapy, I was really tired,” you rub between your brows, “You can go, Jungkook,” your head gestures to the sealed exit, “I can take the embarrassment. Plus, that’s kind of the whole point.

“But that guard lady locked us in here,” his fading hope is visible in the way he buries his head in his hands, seemingly forgetting who he was with when he asks, “Am I really stuck here with Y/N?”

Are you fucking kidding me. You can’t believe you were empathetic with the monster for even a second. “Don’t be over dramatic, it’s only until six.”

His shock takes over his hands and the volume of his voice when he hits his legs, “WE’RE GOING TO BE HERE FOR FOUR HOURS?”

The murmurs and whatever that instructor was saying, are quickly silenced.

“We’re sorry,” you apologise on his behalf as he struggles with reality, “Please, continue.”

She coughs and puts back that old lady smile of hers, clasping her hands together, “As I was saying, we have three tasks ahead of us,” she puts up a finger for each one she lists, “A loving touch, a loving conversation and a loving drink.”

Her voice is drowned out by your dread, your eyes glancing at the couples holding hands and touching, whispering what were surely forbidden secrets into each other’s ears, the candle wax melting and falling in a picturesque way and how the music was crispy to the ears. It was all so… romantic.

And then there were you two idiots that stuck out amidst the crowd, both awkward yet number one is redder than the roses and number two was sweating like a hog. I’ll let you decide which is which.

Hattie’s words are what bring you back to the present, “For us to loosen up, we will begin with the loving touch session,” please say massage, “Each couple should head up to their respective massage rooms.”

At last, the sun is found in the storm.

You follow with an excited sway when Hattie finally comes to bring you to your room. She closes the door behind her with an, “Enjoy!”

A masseur is waiting on the opposite side of the massage bed with welcome arms, “Good afternoon, Mr. and Ms. L/N.”

Jungkook raises his hand, “I’m actually Jeon, she’s the only—.”

“My mistake, Mr. and Ms. Jeon,” Goddamit, Jungkook can’t you say anything helpful for once? “Which one of you will be massaged first?”

You practically leap to grab the robe in his hand before Jungkook could steal the chance, pointing to the jade door, “Is this the changing room?.”

The man nods, a little taken aback from your excitement.

You're out of your clothes and in the backwards robe in the blink of an eye, laid down on the bed in less than a minute, your head now resting on the top of your crossed arms.

“So, Mr. Jeon,” you feel a cold oil drizzle over your back, experienced hands spreading it across your back, “You’ll be placing your hands—,” wait, where did they go, “— right here.”

And just like that Jeon Jungkook’s hands were on your bare back, the concept of a loving touch finally flickering in your mind. His hands were a little more rough and shakier than you would’ve imagined.

Why was that going through your mind?

You should’ve been wishing death on him, yourself and everybody else in the boat, shouldn’t you?

“A loving touch is all about, not only a physical connection but really feeling your partner’s body, go ahead.”

Jungkook, being the pet he was, followed his orders and he did it a little too well, he slowly moved his hands from the knots on your shoulders to the very low of your back and you’d be lying to yourself if you said it felt horrible.

“It’s connecting on a whole new physical level with the other,” Jungkook’s hands travel to the dimples of your spine and linger for a moment too long, but they quickly come back up and focus on the crevices of your neck instead, each movement seemingly aiming for all of your stiff muscles.

Not too bad at all.

The masseur’s philosophical rant about touch and love is completely ignored, your mind hyper focused on every inch of skin Jungkook set his fingers on, his hands sailing further down the sides of your body, the extra attention he pays to your waist not unnoticed.

“Fuck.”

Indeed.

Oh, God. What did you just say?

No, no, no.

Perhaps it was just low enough for nobody to hear it—

“I guess that means you should switch now,” the masseur chuckles with a cringed tone.

It was not.

You prop yourself up and look at Jungkook who you could only hope wasn’t laughing at you, your eyes glassy and pleading for something unclear.

And the bastard was snickering, looking in no direction in particular with a blush to his cheeks and a mocking, lip-biting chuckle on his face.

Once you’re up and standing, it quickly dawns on you that it’s Jungkook's turn. Meaning you had to touch Jungkook and massage Jungkook and touch Jungkook.

The world did hate you.

Jungkook realises he was taking too long and mutters a quick, “Uh,” before pulling his top over his head and you shut your eyes — weren’t you Ms. Jeon, though?

The masseur has to call out your name for you to open them back up again, Jungkook laid on the bed with his head on top of his arms.

“I suppose you know what to do, Miss,” the man smiles.

“Yeah, Y/N,” he exhaled and you can hear his smug, “You know what to do.”

The square footage of Jungkook’s back intimidated you the tiniest bit now that it was splayed out before you, you must admit. Still, you place gentle hands on his back and you’ve confirmed once and for all that those bumps were indeed not from a disease but muscles. Rock hard muscles.

You don’t even remember you had to repay him the favor of embarrassing you — because yes, it was his fault — as you get lost in every dip and fold of his skin, your fingers moving on pure intuition.

The curve of his back, the ridges of his shoulders and the little jolts on the surface of his skin, you could feel all of it.

A hand to your wrist jolts you awake, Jungkook stirring with a glaze to his eyes as you both look up at the masseur, “It’s time for your next activity, Miss.”

Oh, God. What just happened?

You cough and don’t bother to excuse yourself as you leave the room, Jungkook grabbing your forgotten clothes and putting on his robe as he follows behind you.

You try to shake away the burning that creeps it’s way to your fingertips and cheeks as you sit back down on the floor. But it doesn’t work, your sweaty palms joining the party instead. Great. Just great.

Hattie’s voice saves the day, “I hope we’re all relaxed and ready to converse with our partners,” not at all, “If you could all just face each other, cross your legs and hold hands. This intimacy is important when facing important feelings and questions with your partner.”

As if Jungkook slathering oil on you like you were a nice roast chicken wasn't enough, now you had to hold hands with him. Is death still an option?

You’re facing each other, Jungkook’s palms up, “Shall we?”

Uneasiness settles in your stomach, a feeling you’ve never felt with Jungkook before. Sure, you’ve felt judged or uncomfortable but never truly uneasy. Maybe it was just your body reacting to the physical trauma you had to endure.

You nod.

“You know,” Jungkook seems to still be waking up, “You’re not too bad with your hands,” and he laughs.

But it’s a welcome sound that unbundles your nerves in the most peculiar way, your own smile coming back. “You’re not shabby either.”

“I could tell—.”

“I suppose you honeymooners didn’t hear my explanation,” None of you bother to correct her anymore as she places a deck of cards between you, “But all you need to do is pick a card in turn and answer the question. Don’t forget to look into each other’s eyes,” she winks and stands up, making her way to the front of the crowd.

“I guess this is when we start asking each other the questions,” the cringe in your tone is all that rasps your ears as you hold hands… with Jungkook.

“Go ahead,” his head points to the pile of cards in front of you but his eyes only look at Hattie and the way she seemed to ignore every other couple in the room except the both of you.

You breathe in as deep as you can, your hand grabbing the first question, your uncontrollable blush heating up tenfold when you realise this was probably even more intimate than the event-that-shall-not-be-named that occurred in the massage room.

Your mouth stumbles before properly saying, “How long have you been together?”

But Jungkook doesn’t seem as embarrassed as you, the same tint painted on his cheeks but he manages to laugh all the same, your chuckles joining his.

“I’d say about two years?”

Sly bastard. “I’d say two years too.”

He’s the next to grab a card, placing both of your hands on his left one before reaching.

“This is a great one,” he snorts, putting on a serious face when he replaces the card with your hand, “Are there any issues you’d like to bring up?”

You throw your head back just like the exorcist girl, and cackle— were you okay?. “Well, where should I start?”

This was actually kind of fun.

“Okay, but let’s be real for a moment,” he lightly squeezes your hands, “What is your issue with me?”

Or, maybe not.

“Well,” you curse at the old woman for putting you this close, your eyes left with close to no space to avoid Jungkook’s, “There’s just this way you look at me.”

Your gaze is back on the confused boy, the furrow between his brows strong enough to be considered a wifi connection. “What are you talking about?”

“Like—,” you try to come up with some way to explain, “—The first time we met, right? It’s like, you just go silent for a few seconds and literally look through my soul. It makes me feel like I murdered your entire family.”

Jungkook’s eyes grew wide with every word you spouted, the flush on his cheeks practically steaming from his skin.

Did he seriously not know? Oh, well.

“I’m just gonna go ahead and grab the next one,” you say to the top of Jungkook’s head since his face was pointed to his lap.

“Oh, God,” you squeeze Jungkook’s hands with a little more force than necessary, but at least it makes him look up, “You ready?”

Nod.

“What do you love most about your partner?”

Now that was a real couples’ therapy question. Great job, Hattie.

“I think you should answer this one,” you seem to state the obvious, “Since I was the only person to answer the last question.”

Jungkook’s shoulders fall from their perfect posture, “Fine.”

His eyes have that same glint you mentioned before as he scans you up and down. Was that the fifth time today? New record, guys.

“I guess,” he purses his lips with a slight smile, “She always knows how to make a moment memorable. Oh?

Your palms were sweating once again and you wouldn’t have taken note of it if you weren’t holding Jungkook’s goddamn hands at the moment. Why you of all people?

“Coming of a little strong, partner,” the nervousness in your giggly tone ever the obvious thing.

A small smile, “What about you?”

Oh, right. You needed to answer.

It wasn’t like you were an actual couple, “Uh—,” but why is the air between you so thick?

You struggle to find an answer and decide to go with the first thing that pops in your mind,“Well,” Shut up, Y/N, “He always manages to sneak his way in my thoughts.”

Why didn’t you shut up?

However, at this Jungkook smiles, but it isn’t the taut one you’ve seen hundreds of times before, no. Jungkook’s entire face scrunches up and the moons under his eyes seem to have constellations that creased outwards; the way his nose rumpled, his cheeks puffed up and his front teeth steamed the spotlight. Jungkook wasn’t smiling, the boy in front of you was beaming.

And he was beaming at you.

“Next one?” He asks, his face still shining.

You can’t even move at the sight.

Shuffle. “What is your favorite memory with your partner?” He puts it down, “I have like three answers for this one.”

The lightness is back in an instant and you keep that picture of Jungkook on the back of your mind, “You do?”

“Yup,” he pops the P, “First, at the last Christmas party, I go to take a piss at the men’s bathroom, as one does.”

“Please, don’t say it,” you groan and you can’t even hide your face because Hattie would probably slap your hands into Jungkook‘s.

“But, wait,” he feigns shock, “I hear someone gagging in a stall, more specifically a woman. And who else could it have been but the Y/N L/N.”

The almost forgotten memory of you retching your heart out in a smelly toilet and a suited Jungkook carrying you back to Seokjin comes back, and though it’s fuzzy and the mere thought of it is dreadful, Jungkook’s laugh is contagious, even to you now.

“Ah, I never thanked you for that.”

“You don’t need to—.”

“I didn’t finish,” you look at him disillusioned, “And I shouldn’t, because Mother Jin rubbed it in my face the rest of the night about how I was the boss and he was the lousy, underpaid assistant.”

“Classic Jin,” he chuckled. “Okay, second of all, when you threw a coke at my face two seconds after meeting me.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny, Jungkook,” your voice is dry, “But to my defense—.”

“I looked at you weird, totally a justifiable course of action,” he raises his brow, “What about you?”

“What about me?,” Your confusion is cleared up when you’re reminded that you were simply playing a silly card game, “I would have to say… Watching your boss throw a drink at your face after you asked her to make you a partner in the firm.”

Jungkook seems to have buried the memory, “What is it with you people throwing liquids at me?”

You put a thoughtful hand to your chin, “You just have a very drink throwable face.”

He’s quick to snatch your hand back into his and it doesn’t even ring in your mind, “Another one.”

Groan. “Fine, uhm—,” you purse your lips, “Honestly? Maybe, right after that when you were on the sidewalk crying and piss-drunk and you just kind of talked to me.”

Jungkook’s surprised expression has a genuinity to it, “Oh, no. What did I say?”

You shake your head as if to say ‘Nothing’, “You were just going on about how hard you’ve been working and you couldn’t even go out with your friends and you didn’t look at me in the eye even once,” you’re staring into the empty space, “You just said ‘this was a nice dream but I have to wake up now’ and blacked out.”

Your giggle is akin to a little schoolgirl’s and you look backat Jungkook, the night sky in his smile back once again. Hm. Cu—

Hattie claps and the noise bounces you back from your trance. You whip your hands out of Jungkook's hold, afraid they were going to end up drenched from your heart palpitations — Seriously, why was it so hot in the middle of the ocean?

You avoid Jungkook’s searching eyes to the best of your abilities. This could only be a fever.

“We seem to have reached the end of our loving session,” the biggest smile on her face, she can’t wait to get rid of us, “Each couple’s loving drink is awaiting at the exit. The robes are complementary, please do not forget your possessions and stay in love!” Thank God.

You’re on your feet in no time, practically jogging to the exit when Hattie suddenly grabs hold of you, making Jungkook stop in his tracks.

“You two kept on interrupting my class,” she narrowed her eyes but there’s a nicety to her, “But I let it slide, it’s not like I haven’t dealt with worse. Plus, you two have something special that most of the other couples in this room didn’t have.”

A woman scoffs at Hattie’s words when she passes by with her own wife.

Your lack of response is filled with Jungkook’s curious words, “And what is that?”

She leans in a little closer, “Shine,” she whispers this time, “A shine to your eyes and a shine to the way you dance around each other, it’s envying.”

The shine she was referring to was surely the dislike you had for each other. Surely.

You were so sure that you wouldn't stick around for another crazy word of hers and you go back to your almost-running pace to the elevator, not looking back to check if Jungkook had followed behind you.

Why were you so embarassed?

You reach your room in no time and hide yourself beneath the sheets. For a few moments you don’t move, as if you were waiting for something, or someone, to come knocking at the door; and when no one does, your chest weighs a little heavier as if you were disappointed.

“Are you telling me that Jungkook made you moan?” Jin’s voice shrill through the speakerphone, your knees to your chest as you sat at the balcony.

“That’s besides the point, Jin,” you groan, “But, yes.”

He hisses through his teeth, just like the snake he is, “Yeah, there’s no coming back from that.”

“Please,” you’re begging at this point, “Help me.”

“I don’t know what to say Y/N. The symptoms you described don’t sound like the flu, it sounds like raging thirsty hormones.”

Beep, you hear through the glass doors, making you turn, “You’re the worst,” the handle was rotating, “I gotta go, Jin. Love you, bye,” you whisper into the microphone as you grab the phone and make your way into the room for who knows what reason.

And there you were, like a fucking idiot, standing in the middle of the room when Jungkook walks in, scratching the back of his neck when you lock eyes.

“Hey.”

You bite your lip, “Hey.”

The air weighs down with words that wanted to be said and the uncertainty of what they meant, and nobody says anything as you fidget with your skirt Jungkook makes his way to his pile of clothes.

You watch as he digs his way and he seems to be looking for something.

Does he need help—

“Fucking hell, Y/N?”

Excuse me?

You come closer to his little circus act with your hands behind your back, “What?”

Jungkook stands up and you can feel his breath on the tip of your nose, “Where’s my shirt?”

Now, you were truly baffled.

“What shirt?”

He goes to the bathroom and continues his search for said shirt, “My hawaiian shirt,” his voice echoes, “It’s pink, it looks exactly like yours.”

Wow. And he picked on you for that on your very first night together. Wow.

“Why would I steal it?” You start searching through the pile of clothes on the chair, sure to find something.

“I didn’t say you stole it,” Jungkook is striding towards you, “You could’ve just gotten them mixed—.”

His sentence never finds an end when you stand up and turn at the very same moment he comes behind you, your bodies clashing and falling to the floor with a bang. Jungkook is on top of you, the only thing stopping your faces from touching being his upend arm, you don’t even notice your hand was holding onto it until you feel something flex beneath your fingertips.

Could this day get any better?

It takes a few moments for any of you to move, but when you do it’s up and rushing, both of you dusting off your clothes as if there was anything to dust off and staring intently at the ground.

“Uhm—,” Jungkook is the first to break the silence as he grabs something from behind you, “Found it.”

And you both wait for someone to say something else, still no one does and Jungkook puts the shirt back in the pile, walking towards the door.

But just before he could take those final steps, you grab him by the wrist and breathe out. You hated this.

“Look, Jungkook,” he does, “I’m really sorry for running off, I just felt really weird, you know?”

He early waits for you to continue.

“It’s just—,” you let go of him, your fingertips burning from the touch, “—today was a lot. I think we’ve never had real, sober time together that lasted for more than an hour and there was so much touching and talking,” you find yourself rambling, “It was just, really overwhelming because we’re not that close, “So, let’s just go back to insulting each other every two seconds and have a good dinner?”

He seemed to be expecting more, but if he was he doesn’t say a word about it and puts on a happy façade, “Only if you promise to not moan in the middle of our meal.”

Your expression falls flat. “You know what, forget it—.”

“Fine, fine,” he puts his hands up in defeat and unlocks the door, “They’re serving sushi tonight,” he doesn’t wait for you as he heads to the elevator, “So hurry up, dumbass.”

You smile, tucking your hair behind your ears.

Dumbass.

taglist. (open)

| @fangirl125reader / @vantxx95 / @jinpanman / @ggukkieland / @miniiimee / @giadalin / @mrcleanheichou / @btsmylife21 / @primadonnasdream / @paizthemaiz

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amarriageoftrueminds · 3 years

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Now now, we all know how Bucky's been in love with Steve (and known about his feelings) his whole life, but what about Steve? I've always swayed towards the theory 'Steve's been in love with Bucky his whole life as well, he only realised after Bucky fell from the train', but what if Steve's known he's in love with Bucky since their Brooklyn days? That would shed an entirely different light on his interactions with Miss Nazis Hirer and the whole 'right partner' talk

Going by canon, I think there must've been either: a declaration of mutual feelings, or; the first foray into a sexual relationship in their late teens, because one of Bucky's trigger words was 'seventeen', and Steve said he felt like a 16 year old again when he heard Bucky's name.

What's interesting is, at that time, and especially in that place*, there wasn't the idea that gay sex acts made you gay, because there were loads of 'straight' men around (eg. sailors.) going with other men just for sex. This was pre pill, pre sex-before-marriage for most, especially for Catholics like Steve.

So it might be that Bucky and Steve were doing the do with each other looong before either of them came to the realisation that they were also, coincidentally, in love.

I agree that Bucky, simply because he's exposed to dating women more than Steve is, has more of an opportunity to Realise before Steve. He'd have the benefit of being able to contrast his experience of feelings with Steve, with his experience of feelings for others, leading him to a lightbulb moment.

And he'd cover this up (and keep up the pretense of believing both he and Steve are really straight) by going out with girls in the meantime; in a period-appropriate gentlemanly way, not bedding them. Also to protect him and Steve from any potentially dangerous accusations.

I don't see Steve as not knowing precisely that he is in love with Bucky; I think he knew before the events of CATFA started, and it was a big part of his motivation for wanting to go to war.

But I do think it hadn't occurred to Steve that he might only be attracted to Bucky / men until after he got serum -- because, before then, his health would've been a limiting factor.

Before then, I can see him thinking 'well it's no wonder I have no libido like Bucky does around women, I'm just too unwell!' and not connecting the dots.

This would explain why he seems so panicked when sexual situations arise with women, after the serum; because he's realising 'oh shit! actually, I don't even like this when I have Perfect Health!' and hastily trying to backpedal himself out of an unwanted situation.

My HC is both of them thinking they're the only male-attracted one in the relationship and they're just engaging in sex acts together for convenience' sake but the other one's only going to keep doing it until he can get a girl.

So when Steve shows up all heterosexual-passing, looking like he can get any girl he wants, Bucky looks devastated because he thinks that signals the end of his physical (in his head unrequited romantic) relationship with Steve.

(But then between Peggy showing up and he and Steve going to the Continent together with the Howlies, Bucky mysteriously seems to perk up!)

By which point Steve, with his strong moral instincts and anti-Fascism, has come to the conclusion that if he's a physically perfect man, and he's still in love with and attracted to Bucky, then there must by definition be nothing wrong with feeling physically attracted to Bucky.

IDK if it makes it better or worse to imagine that they finally confessed to each other before the fall?

Maybe it'd be nice if they saved that for Post-WS, especially since Bucky might be then in even more doubt as to Steve's feelings for him. It's a common choice in fic for a reason!

There are two ways to read the 'right partner' talk Steve has with Peggy.

One is:

Steve's a straight man acting like an incel and attempting to pull pick-up artist tricks on Peggy which don't work, because she's not interested in him, and so doesn't take the bait (we only don't notice he's being a creep because Cevans and HA play it as benign, and because the writers, being themselves douchebags, don't realise what they've written; and probably wouldn't care even if they did.)

Two is: (particularly egregious if you flip the genders and imagine a woman saying this to a man)

Steve going out of his way to make it clear that he doesn't want to date, isn't interested in dating right now, while there's a war on, and finds women terrifying.

And yet as soon as he's fuckable, Peggy pulls a 180 and starts claiming she always liked him as he was, despite the fact that her actions directly disprove this; she didn’t ask him out when she had the chance and the encouragement.

Naturally, her arrogance leads her to the immediate assumption that if Steve is waiting for The One, then she must be the One to whom he was referring.

The fact that his wording either means he’s already found the One and is waiting for them, OR that he hasn’t met them yet, both exclude her from the running (since he’s known her a week) is... immaterial. She never asks if he has his eye on someone, does she? Would Steve being already married stop her?

(You don’t say ‘I don’t want to date because I’m waiting for the One’ to the person who IS the One, or whom you suspect may be the One. This ain’t rocket science!)

And hey, did you notice, that Peggy is just so important and special and perfect that her sudden interest in Steve means that Steve's stated wishes are now irrelevant?

The staggering hubris of waltzing up to him to go ‘hey, by the way, one day... when all this is over... I will allow you to date me.’ 😘😌

Too bad he didn’t ask!

The fact that Steve explicitly told her he isn't interested in dating and didn’t specify he’d be interested in her is invalidated by his new looks and her desire.

Sheesh. These Carter girls sure are rapey as hell.

(Also, in characteristic NOT-A-FEMINIST Peggy Style, the first thing she does upon seeing Big Steve is yank a t shirt out of the hands of a waiting nurse, because Saint Poppins is apparently so good at everything without training or experience that she can do nursing better than an actual nurse, too? (Could be she's also being characteristically territorial, pissing a circle round her chosen prey.) While simultaneously, out of nowhere, affecting a dumb ‘oh I’m so soft-and-feminine’ voice she didn’t have before?? Does that sounds like someone Steve ‘son of a nurse’ Rogers would admire? UGH.)

The irony of all this is ^ you can read Steve as 100% gay and not have to change a single piece of his characterisation or interactions with women at any point.

I've touched on this in other asks, but:

He never asks Peggy out when he has the opportunity; only when he knows it's too late and he won't be expected to follow through (due to him being dead.)

He never makes a move on any of the chorus girls or his female fans (no matter what those creeps M&M claim). Or Private Lorraine. Or Nat. He has to be nagged to make one on Sharon (while Peggy's body's barely had time to cool, and looks fine about never seeing her again lol!) But he goes out of his way to befriend Sam, and waay out of his way to get Bucky back.

Throughout all his films he's consistently assaulted by women, even friends, and never looks happy about it; he also never looks upset when he's rejected or cut off from women love interests, or when he's able to dodge flirting (by, eg. jumping out of a frickin' plane!?)

It's 'his choice', in his own words.

He seems his happiest with women in platonic situations, and only sad about them when it's a question of a shirked duty, a bereavement, or him feeling he's let them down; eg. when Nat dies, when his mother dies, when he's unable to deliver a promised dance to Peggy, etc.

(But it makes people uncomfortable to address this since many of his fans are female.)

But even marrying a woman (albeit the most OOC choice it's physically possible for a Captain America to make, not to mention that it involves abandoning our-Bucky alone in the future). It doesn't preclude Steve from being gay, since lavender marriages were hella common (doubly so for famous gay men).

He could be gay and still in a relationship with Bucky, and married to Peggy. I mean, he's guaranteed a wife who'll spend most of the time away at work, able to use her connections to squash any inconvenient press; and unable to out him or Bucky without ruining her own prestige. Perfect!

Still makes EG Steve a douchebag tho. 😒

*we know they frequented north Brooklyn, because Steve said 'I know this neighborhood!' while the Brooklyn Bridge was in sight behind him; but, they got the street angle wrong, cuz they made it look like the BKB has a street which looks right at it, when in fact the street with that famous view is of the Manhattan Bridge. The places Steve describes being beat up; a parking lot, alleyway, and diner, are also all places you'd go while you're Out, rather than where you live. So IMO Steve and Bucky lived somewhere near DUMBO, but not so far east that their view was of the Manhattan Bridge; either Brooklyn Heights or Downtown. So that puts them right in the heart of Gay Brooklyn (as in, Truman Capote had a house there, because Walt Whitman wrote a famous poem about there; that level of gay), next to the Navy Yard and Sands Street (gay cruising central) and they also frequented gay cruising mecca Coney Island (big burlesque hot spot).

#mcu meta #antipeggy #toAyourQ #hey nonny #steve meta #bucky meta #p*ggy meta #anti st*ggy #endgame steve is a skrull #antiendgame #dat's me #bucky barnes #meta #mcu #yet each man queues the thing he loves

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justkending · 3 years

Text

Moral of the Story. Chapter Four.

Summary: Marrying too young out of highschool leads to a naive and failed marriage. Now 10 years later, word comes that the divorce was never actually completed. Bucky and Y/N have to come back together after all this time to settle what wasn’t all those years back. Passive attitudes, miscommunicated endings, and reminiscing of old loves and lives all comes back for the two.

Pairing: Bucky x Y/N

Word Count:

A/N:

Chapter Four:

Bucky groaned as the alarm blared throughout the room. Rolling over to his side, he threw his head into the pillow. That didn’t stop the beeping like he had hoped, so with a groan he pushed up, smacking the red numbers that screamed at him. He rolled back onto his back and blinked up at the bare ceiling.

Today was the day…

_________________

Y/N couldn’t seem to sleep at all, so she woke up early at 6:30 jumping into the shower. Having the extra time, she took it to have a nice long soak in the hot water. The schedule of the day running through her mind.

The chance of them running into each other was practically at 100%. They had a time frame of 9-10 to get in and sign what they needed. Mr. Murdock said something along the lines that it would take about 30-45 minutes to get everything finalized and copied.

So yeah… Within an hour frame of needed 30-45 minutes of signing shit and getting multiple copies made, meant Bucky and her would most likely be sitting next to the other as it was done.

She let out a tired and irritated moan as she finally decided to turn off the water. She had it running for so long, her hands were prunes and the water was becoming lukewarm. The world was telling her to suck it up and move on with the day.

____________

The car ride there was dreadful. Every stop light just elongated the inevitable meeting. Every turn brought him closer to the terrifying reunion.

He was running early to begin with, but after hitting traffic from a wreck, he was now running just a few minutes behind. So weaving through the people who didn’t understand New York traffic was his specialty in showing up in time.

____________

She stopped at the coffee shop by her house before really heading to the attorneys office. The car ride to the place was easy and smooth on her end. From coming from the outskirts of Brooklyn, the inner city traffic was avoided for the most part. So she was there early. She even had a second to sit in her car and drink the latte she had bought. Something about Brooklyn latte’s was 10x better than anything California had.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact they actually had cold weather to pair the hot drink with, whereas where she now lived, the lowest low in temperatures was 70 degrees.

________________

Getting there with just 3 minutes to spare, Bucky rushed out of the car and walked with a hint of speed to the door that read Nelson and Murdock Law Firm.

No sign of Y/N yet, but as he walked in, he heard a shout from the street that caused him to turn as soon as he walked in. He didn’t have a second to register what the shout was about as he took two steps in and ran straight into someone’s back.

“Whoa!” he said, using his hands to brace himself on the mystery person's shoulders, and the other person making the same exclamation. “Oh God, I’m so sor-”

Before he could finish the apology, the women turned showing the face of his matured high-school-sweetheart.

“Oh,” he let out in a breathy turn. He could tell just from past experience with her, she had a snarky comment on her tongue at the run in, but upon seeing him, the words died on her lips. “Hey.”

She looked great. Like, really great after all these years. Not that she wasn’t a beautiful gal to begin with, but you never know how someone’s going to age. However, she looked almost the same.

Sure, she had aged some, but just like a nice bottle of the finest wine in all the vineyards of California. Maybe that was her secret given her new home.

Her Y/H/C hair was styled in loose curls. It was voluminous with a healthy shine to it. She had on an off white, canvas dress that cinched at the waist with buttons going down it. And she had a layered gold necklace going down her chest where the buttons were undone. She looked both professional yet casual at the same time.

Bucky realized he had been staring when she awkwardly looked around her trying to not pay attention to his analyzing eyes.

“Hey,” she said, letting out a deep breath.

She didn’t miss how good he looked either. Even in those facebook pictures that she had found the night before, the ones she found him just as attractive, they didn’t do the real man justice. His hair was just as long as the most recent picture his mother had posted, and he looked more muscular than she ever remembered. The scrubs didn't do his build justice.

He was wearing a navy blue v-neck tight fitting t-shirt. A brown leather jacket that looked as though it was tailored specifically for him and him alone. And lastly, he had on a pair of jeans that of course, fit in him all the right places.

There was a very awkward silence as they stood there not knowing what else to say. Neither now looking at the other, but instead looking at every little inanimate object item in the office.

After what felt like eons of the most tense silence to exist, Bucky was about to speak up again, but was cut off from another person running in late.

“Oh, gosh. I’m so sorry guys,” the voice sighed, out of breath from what they presumed was running to get there on time. “Foggy was supposed to pick me up and we were going to ride together, but he got food poisoning last night, so I had to take the train last minute.”

The man had dark brown hair, a nice suit, and a pair of sunglasses on even though it was overcast today and the sun was barely peeking through the heavy clouds.

“Foggy?” Y/N asked with a tilt of her head.

Bucky turned back looking at her with the same question on his mind, but watching the small action of confusion brought him back 10 years. God, it had been so long he had almost forgotten the little mannerisms she had that he found adorable. And damn her for still having that adorable action.

“Oh, right. Franklin Nelson. My co-attorney,” he nodded. “We’ve been friends since we were in college. Friends call him Foggy.”

“Oh, I see,” Y/N nodded with a kind smile.

“Anyway, I won’t bore you with my morning chaos. I’m sure you two are ready to get this over with and go on about your day,” he smiled, and pulled a walking stick out from around him as he closed the door. One that neither had realized he had been holding until now. “You two much be James and Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, I’m Matthew Murdock.

“It’s nice to meet you Matthew,” Y/N replied sweetly.

“Yes, thank you for helping us out,” Bucky nodded, placing his hands nervously in his pockets.

“It’s my pleasure. I’m so sorry about everything that you guys are having to fix,” he said apologetically. But I’m sure you guys want to go about your day, so please, right this way,” he motioned to the door that was across from them.

Bucky and Y/N both shared an impressed look on their faces as they watched him maneuver through the office gracefully.

They followed close behind him and once they were seated in the chairs in front of the desk, Bucky began to fidget in his spot. Sure the office had been redone and really didn’t look much like it had all those years ago, but the layout was the same. And all it was doing to him was bringing back memories he hated trudging back to the surface.

He subtly looked over at Y/N and saw her sitting in perfect posture watching Matthew as if if she were to look at him and only him, then she wouldn’t have to face Bucky.

Why did he expect anything less? Of course she hated him just as much as she had all those years. She was probably dreading this meeting just as much as him. That small speck of hope that maybe they could be somewhat normal and civil upon meeting again after all this time, completely faded at that point.

“Ok, this really shouldn’t take all that much time since Foggy and I went ahead and wrote up all the things that needed signed and double checked. So we should be able to breeze through all this,” Matthew nodded, bringing up a thick file that looked as though it had tabs on the side organizing them.

Y/N looked over wondering just how he knew the difference between documents and noticed on each tab, there were bariel markings along them.

“If you don’t mind me asking, out of all places to live, why New York? It’s got to be hard getting around such a crazy busy city given.. ” Bucky asked, but didn’t finish not sure how to word it. Y/N snapped her head in his direction and smacked his arm. “Ow!” Bucky jumped, sending her raised eyebrows. “What the hell?”

“I’m assuming you’re asking because of this,” Matthew laughed casually as he pointed to his glasses. “Don’t worry. You would be surprised just how often I get asked that.”

“Yeah, it was just a question,” Bucky pouted toward Y/N while rubbing his assaulted arm. The two falling back into their old behaviors rather fast.

“I wasn’t always blind. I mean I have been for a good chunk of my life, but I’ve lived in New York my whole life as well,” Matthew went on to explain as he moved papers around. “If anything it would be harder for me to get around if I moved any place else. I know this place like the back of my hand.”

“That’s impressive,” Bucky nodded, getting comfortable in his seat.

“Eh, it’s either learn or get bumped around the sidewalk of a place full of people who don’t give a second glance to anyone who’s in their way,” Matthew shrugged. “Oh, I need to go grab something before we start.”

He maneuvered through the room leaving the door open as he went across the office. Tension filled the air as they were left alone for a second time in the past 5 minutes.

Y/N was sitting straight forward, her eyes wandering here and there around the meeting room, but careful not to go over to Bucky’s side of the room. He looked down seeing her hands were fiddling in her lap. She was tapping her thumbs together while his leg bounced up and down.

Bucky had opened his mouth to start to say something, but even he wasn’t sure what was about to come out. Lucky for him, Matthew came back in and went back to his seat.

“Sorry about that. I thought I had it all, but needed to get some pens and one last paper I left on the printer last night.”

“You’re fine,” Y/N said professionally, but kindly. “I have one quick question, if you don’t mind.” Matthew nodded her on with a soft smile. “What exactly happened to Hammer after all this chaos was discovered?”

“Oh, yes. He, uh, he will not be an issue to anyone else to put it lightly. His license was revoked and terminated and he is currently on trial for money laundering and malpractice,” he answered.

“Serves him right,” Bucky mumbled, and instead of getting a smack to the arm, Y/N nodded in agreement.

“Ok, if you two are ready, let’s begin,” Matthew smiled before grabbing the first set of papers.

The two straightened in their seats and the process began.

After a few minutes of just signing, Matthew started to make notes of updated information for the two.

“Ok, Mrs. Barnes, sorry, Y/N,” he corrected quickly. “What is your line of profession at the moment?”

“I work at Horizon Labs in L.A. It’s a company a friend and I from college started up. I’m a Sustainable-Conscious Financial Advisor for a lot of smaller businesses as well as some bigger ones we recently just became partners with,” she answered.

“Horizon Labs, huh?” Matthew said with an impressed look. Bucky turned to look at her as she lightly blushed. “I think I listened to a podcast about them. You guys help companies use recycled goods and find energy efficient technology, right?”

“We just redirect them to people who can help them get those resources. It’s practically just connecting the companies that would work great together in helping the environment,” she nodded humbly.

“That’s amazing,” Matthew smiled. “We need more people and companies like that.”

“Thank you.”

He made note of that on a computer. “I’m assuming with all that, you have to be a little too busy for a second job, right? I don’t need to make note of another?”

“Uh, actually,” she added, Bucky’s already focused eyes on her quirked at her response. “I just invested in a Woman’s shelter with another friend of mine. I haven’t really got to do much with it, but it is a second job as of lately.”

“Wait? Nat?” Bucky caught on.

“Uh, yeah,” she nodded almost shyly. Probably the second time out of this whole meeting that she actually made eye contact with him. “My company works with them in getting some of the resources and items they need for the shelter. I talked with Nat and I invested into it some to help with some with their financial advisements.”

“Wow, th-that’s,” Bucky faltered. “That sounds like you,” he said with a breathy laugh thinking about how maybe she really hadn’t changed all these years. That being one of the ‘reasons’ they had broken it off, how people change and all. But that’s a story for another time.

Y/N didn’t show a response to his words, but she did take them in.

“So you run a woman’s home and you run a well-off business that promotes eco-friendly resources for the environment?”

“Well, I don’t run the woman’s home. That’s all my friends doing. I just help where help is asked if I can,” she answered once again humbly. No sense of egotistical pride hinted in her explanations or answers.

“That’s extremely impressive Y/N,” Matthew gushed some, and Bucky noticed the smallest form of attraction come off the lawyer. He straightened at that. “I’ll make a note of it. And you Mr. Barnes. What is your occupation?”

Bucky relaxed his shoulders and focused back at the issue at hand. Trying to not get jealous of something that wasn’t even his to be jealous of.

“I’m one of the head occupational therapist at Stark Theracorp,” he answered. Now it was Y/N’s turn to look at him intrigued. “I run the geriatric occupational therapy floor and manage our equipment and employees. ”

“Two very impressive people in the work field from what I’m getting,” Matthew chuckled some as he made the notes. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have to ask about income from the both of you for the record. If you want to write it on a paper and hand it to me you can or if you are comfortable saying it outloud that works too. Either way, I’ll have Foggy add it in later to the finalized papers.”

“Wait, so we aren’t finalizing it today?” Y/N asked, somewhat shocked.

“Did Foggy not tell you?” Matthew asked. “I thought he reached out to you before this meeting.”

“I don’t believe so,” Y/N shook her head.

“Well, the reason this one is so quick is because I just need a few signatures and updated notes on you two. After that, I’ll make the altercations for the official papers and I’ll send those to you both on their own to get the final signature. You can either bring them to me here, fax them, or have them sent via mail after you signed off on them.”

“Oh, I see,” Y/N nodded. The look of defeat in her posture and facial expressions.

It hurt Bucky a little seeing her reaction to it. Did she really want to get away from him that bad? Was he that much of a nuisance in her life? I mean, yeah, they were supposed to be divorced 9 years ago, but he didn’t want it then and it still hurt seeing just how much she wanted it now.

“That’s not an issue is it? I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience,” Matthew apologized.

“No, no. It’s ok,” she said in reassurance to him. But she let out an almost bitter laugh before she spoke again. “We’ve been married for the past 9 years apparently. What’s a few more days?”

“I guess that’s true,” Matthew laughed with her.

Bucky rolled his eyes discreetly. He really hated how she was reacting with all this. It wasn’t surprising, but doesn’t mean it hurts any less seeing how badly she wanted out of the situation.

“Mr. Barnes, are you ok with that?”

“I’ll survive a few more days, I guess,” he returned just as bitterly as Y/N. The two looked at each other one more time, but this time, anger and annoyance was clear on both of their faces.

If you would like to be tagged in this series, please send an ask! It keeps things more organized for me. If you comment, I most likely will not add because I loose them:)

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please-buckme · 3 years

Text

The View From The Fire Escape. (1/3)

Bucky Barnes x gn!reader

Words: 1.2k

Warnings: alcohol? Kinda fluffy.

A/n: Inspo. Came from @buckysm3talarm and *wink wink* *nudge nudge* it’s her birthday! Love you girl! 💖 Also, depending on the feedback I may do a part 2!

Part 2 // Part 3

(Not my gif! I’m sorry @detectiveupton ! I tried to do it the proper way and I couldn’t find it!)

Working at a dinner in Brooklyn sucked. It really sucked. Especially when you work the late shift and don’t get home till just before the sun was about to rise. Luckily, tonight your boss decided to be nice and cut you a bit earlier- 3am instead of 5am; what a gem.

When you finally twist the key to your front door, feeling the air of your apartment on your skin, a loud sigh escapes you. There’s a high or maybe more of a rush you get when you first get home. It’s comparable to taking your socks off in bed; relaxing.

You shrug your jacket from your shoulders, kick your all-stars from your aching feet and change into something comfy. Once you’re dressed down and into more comfortable clothes, you go to the fridge. The feeling of opening your fridge was always underwhelming, since you were barely paying rent you hardly ever had a full fridge. Spotting one of the two beers you had left, you grab it and head to your fire escape.

This had become a nightly thing over the past few months. A rather attractive guy moved in directly across the street from you. He was always up, like you. You honestly started to think he was a vampire or something. There were lights always on, and if they weren’t on the tv was. You checked your watch, 4:30. You should be right on time tonight.

The guy, who you learned’s name is Bucky, woke up every morning from a dead sleep at 4:30am. Had to be nightmares. He was always a little psyched out when he’d wake up. You never asked why. You loved having company at this hour, so you didn’t want to scare him away by asking too personal of questions.

4:31am hit and you sigh, taking a swig from your beer in defeat. You were about to call it a night when he suddenly popped up.

His breathing was heavy, clearly panting. Of course you were curious as to why these nightmares happened so often, but at the same time you knew if he wanted to tell you he would.

Once he calmed down, repositioned himself on the floor, put his arms over his knees, and steadied his breathing, you called out to him.

It was the coolest thing, so you thought. You’d whistle as low as you possibly could, getting louder and louder until he’d hear you. You never go past the first pitch before he’d shoot his head up towards you.

He smirks, walking to his fridge for a beer and then heading to his fire escape as well.

“That never ceases to amaze me.” You laugh, taking another sip of your drink. “How the fuck do you do that.”

“A magician never reveals his secrets.” He grins, “You’re home early.”

“Ah, you noticed.” You say, cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “Boss decided to be nice and cut me two hours earlier than usual.”

“Wow, what’d you do with those two whole hours?” He asked, smirking and leaning against the railing of his fire escape.

“Waited for you to wake up.” You admit, laughing into your bottle before taking another sip.

“I guess I’m sort of a creation of habit.” He chuckles. His body relaxes, now sitting in the chair behind him as he fiddles with his bottle.

A silence falls over the both of you, which is normal. Sitting out here in silence just knowing he’s there is more relaxing to you than going in and watching tv. It didn’t hurt that he was half naked either. He is yards away from you but you could still see his perfectly chiseled features. Of course you also noticed the metal arm, but never brought it up. You felt like the arm and the nightmares go into the ill-talk-about-it-when-I-want-to-about-it file, never to be mentioned.

“Why’d he cut you early?” Bucky asked, breaking the silence.

“Oh.. uh, it’s my birthday.” You say sort of nonchalantly. “Well, it was my birthday. I guess it’s technically over now.”

“Ah, someone who works on their birthday has a good work ethic. That’s sexy.” He grins. The deep rasp of his voice makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. “Happy Birthday, y/n.”

You giggle, a little caught off guard, to say the least.

“Or just shows you how broke I actually am. And thank you.” You both laugh now. It’s a little awkward now because- FUCK DID HE JUST CALL ME SEXY- is all your brain can process at the moment.

Bucky was a natural flirt, that was obvious. Sometimes you’d be able to spit something back at him, but tonight you were almost desperate for him to flirt with you. You’d never seen Bucky up close or anywhere but his fire escape, but you’d come to have a small crush on him.

The nights when he’d sleep in bed you wouldn’t see him. There was internal conflict there. You were glad he’d be sleeping in an actual bed, you assumed, rather than the floor, but he was the only thing that made your dreadful late night shifts worth working. Sometimes you hoped he’d come in to see you, but he never did.

You've been waiting so long for him to make a move that you’re now chomping at the bits. Fortunately, it’s your birthday and you were feeling ballsy. You drank that beer way too fast, meaning you were slightly tipsy and you craved meeting him. Craved knowing how good he probably smells after a morning shower. Craved feeling the cold metal of his fingers against your skin as he ran them along your side, Dirty Dancing style. So, you broke the silence this time,

“You know, I’m off tomorrow if you-“ you trailed off, losing your confidence towards the end.

“Oh, you don’t wanna waste your free time on me.” He sighs, smiling but it’s filled with conflict, pre usual. Such a pretty face to be hidden behind so much remorse.

“I’m here with you now, aren’t I?”

“I suppose.” He says bluntly.

“Nothing crazy, Buck. Just beer and football or ballet. Whatever you’re into.” You chuckle at yourself. You expected to see Bucky laughing with you but when you looked up, he wasnt. He’s up from his chair and leaning over the railing again, seeming almost freighted? You couldn’t tell.

“Buck?” He asks. “Oh shit, it just kinda slipped out. I’m so-“

“No, please,” he interrupted. “Please don’t apologize. I’ll be out front of your building around 11am. Sound good?” He seemed to be on the brink of tears but also happy.

You wanted to know everything about this man. The closer you got, though, the more you realized you’d probably know everything and nothing at all about him. He was those knotted up earphones that were a pain to unravel but worth untangling in the long run.

“11am sounds perfect.” you give him a half smile, not wanting to come off too eager. “I should probably get to bed then, huh?”

“Uh, yeah. Me too.”

You got up, stretched then turned towards your apartment, but not before whispering, “Goodnight, Buck.”

You didn’t know what the nickname held for him and he knew that. It just felt so good and sounded so sweet coming for your lips.

“Goodnight, y/n.” Bucky whispered.

Masterlist

A/n: I hope you enjoyed whatever this was lol depending on the feedback I may do a part 2!

Taglist: @haydens-moles @animefangirl425 @valkyrieofthehighfae @aurora-sweet @dinos-lavapit @hoeforcuteguyswithcharmingsmiles @sebbystanlover-vk @youre-a-wallflower-charlie @nebulastarr @meegggoooo @skylerrae-solo @alyssa-skywalker @blondekel77 @gogolucky13 @buckysm3talarm @heavenlyseb @writersbuck @badassbuchanan @buckyownsmylife @buckysdolls @notwithoutbarnes @cherryblossomskye @ladyfallonavenger

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