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disasterofastory · 2 years

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Doll - Part 4 (Stucky x Reader)

Doll

Part 4 - Punishment // Doll Masterlist

Stucky x Reader

Bodyguard AU

Warnings: spanking

Summary: Your bodyguards teach you a lesson.

You pace up and down in the silence of your room. Your eyes wander to the door from time to time. You should give them a piece of your mind. They would deserve it! It's not a way to treat anyone! What are they thinking? What are you? A kid? They can't punish you with silent treatment! Yes, you fucked up big time, so? You learned your lesson already! There is no need to be this cruel.

Deep down, you know you are heartbroken. It seems like you are not so important to them. Otherwise, they couldn't put you aside so easily. You are just another job.

And it's okay.

You will get over it.

But treating you like a burden is not fair!

With that thought, you march out of your room, making your way to Bucky's room before you can change your mind.

You deserve better.

The door rattles in its frame as you bang on it. Your fist hits the wooden surface repeatedly until you hear the small klick of the lock. Your hand is in the air when the door opens with a frowning Bucky behind it. He wears grey sweatpants with a matching hoodie, and god, he looks good. You are sure you would appreciate the view in any other circumstances. But right now, you are angry. Furious even.

"Can we talk?" You ask him, matching his expression. You won't back away even if your heart breaks through your ribcage.

"We can talk in the morning," he answers.

"No, we can't," you argue. You are afraid you won't be brave enough to talk in the morning.

Another door opens in the background, and you can see Steve's tall form from the corner of your eyes.

"Then speak," Bucky says, drawing your attention back to him.

You know what you want to say. You didn't forget it. But forming words while both of them watch you is much harder than being face to face with only one of them. You already feel your throat tightening.

"Well," you clear your throat. "I..."

Bucky has a really hard time hiding his amusement from you. You were so confident a few seconds ago before Steve appeared. You were ready to fight, and Bucky was waiting for it too.

"You can't treat me like this!" You tell him, forcing a frown back on your face. "I know I fucked up, okay? I shouldn't have gone out without a word, leaving you in the dark about where I am or if I'm okay. It was wrong, I know. But right now, you are the ones who are wrong! Because treating people like this is wrong!"

"Are you done?" Bucky asks after a while, making you scoff. How dare he be so rude to you?!

"Yes," you reply. "And you can-"

"Come in," he says, stepping away from the doorway to give you room.

"What?" You ask back, confused. You were ready to tell them to go home, whatever that means.

"Come in," he repeats it, motioning to Steve to follow you.

You feel trapped when the door closes behind Bucky, and you are alone in the room with your bodyguards. Your heart is in your throat as you stand a few meters away from them with folded arms, waitingly. Both of them seem confident in contrast with you as Bucky sits down on the edge of his bed while Steve walks to the window, looking through it before turning back to you. He wears sweatpants and a worn t-shirt. His blonde hair is still wet from the shower he probably took before hearing you and Bucky in the corridor.

"So?" You snap at them. "What do you want?"

Your eyes are on Bucky since he was the one who asked, no, demanded you into his room.

"We have enough of your misbehavior, Y/N," he says, leaning to his elbows on his knees. His face is still strict but not as stoic as the last few days.

You frown. "And I told you I'm sorry. It was a mistake."

"It was negligence," Steve speaks up for the first time. "You only thought about yourself. What do you think could have happened if something went wrong? Do you think we are here for fun? We were patient with you and each of your whims, but you stepped out of the line this time."

"Your father's business is dangerous, Y/N," Bucky continues before you can cut in. "You are in danger, Y/N. What you can't understand about it?"

"I understand it."

You feel like a child. Your face is warm from embarrassment as they continue to lecture you.

"And you have to be punished." You freeze at Bucky's words. A scoff breaks through your lips as you look up at him from the ground.

"What do you mean?" You scoff. "I think the silent treatment was more than enough!"

"It's not you who decides about it, Y/N."

"Then what do you want?" You mock him. "You will call my father? I can't leave my room?"

"Bend over my knee," Bucky replies, staring at you as you freeze once again.

What does he want? Is he serious?

"You can't be serious," you reply, more quietly this time.

"I am, Y/N," Bucky answers, waiting for you with a raised eyebrow. "And if you don't come here, you will have to take off your pants too."

You don't know what shocks you more, Bucky's words or the slight throbbing between your legs. It can't be real.

"Buck-"

"Pants down, sweetheart."

You look over at Steve for help, but he doesn't move. He just stares at you waitingly. His arms are folded in front of his chest, and his muscles bulge under his shirt.

Okay, you think, if they want to play like this, you can do that, too. You won't back away, and not just because of the growing need between your legs.

Keeping eye contact with the brunette, you hook your fingers under the waistband of your pajama pants. The soft fabric falls to your feet, leaving you just in your shirt and panties. Bucky can barely contain his serious expression when he sees the angry defiance on your face. You look like a kitten who is ready to crawl his eyes out.

"Come here," Bucky orders you again until you are really on his knees, giving a clear view of your bottom to him and Steve. Your whole body burns with embarrassment and excitement at the same time. Anticipation bubbles in your chest as your breath gets erratic.

"Why do you get punished, Y/N?" Bucky asks, dragging his eyes away from your ass to Steve. The blonde man seems surprised. He didn't think you would really do it. Bucky is risking everything if you decide to go to your father after this.

"Because I went out without you," you reply. Your voice is much softer as you lay on the man's knees.

"And?"

"And you couldn't reach me on the phone."

"And what you won't do ever again?"

"I won't go out without telling you," you answer.

"Good," Bucky says, smoothing his large hand on your bottom. His palm is warm and rough. A shiver runs through your body.

"What do you think how much spanking you deserve because of it?"

"It's not me who decides about it," you whisper, repeating his words.

"Very good," he hums. "I think twenty is enough. What do you think, Steve?"

"Twenty-six," Steve answers without thinking. "For every morning, she woke us up."

"Yeah," Bucky nods. "You are right."

You can't even breathe as you wait for the first slap. And you don't have to wait for it for long. Bucky's open palm hits down on your soft flesh with a loud smack. A gasp leaves your mouth at the sudden, burning feeling.

"One," Bucky counts. "How are you, Doll?" He asks. His fingers dig into your flesh, massaging the sore spot.

"I'm fine," you reply, still trying to find out how you feel about the whole thing. You are bending over your bodyguard's lap while the other one watches you get spanked by his best friend.

And you don't hate it.

"Two," Bucky says, and before you could do anything, he slaps you again. And three more times. You fidget on his lap, trying to keep your mind clear, but it's hard when you know you are wet even though your ass really starts to hurt.

"Six." Slap. "Seven." Slap. "Eight." Slap.

You press your forehead against the bed, trying to keep your painful sobs at bay. Your body trembles and you desperately want to stop this, but something stops you. The desire deep down that burns maybe even more than your bottom.

"It's okay," Bucky says, massaging you again to give you some time. "Do you want to stop?"

You shake your head. Your lips are in a thin line.

"Use your words, Y/N," Steve speaks up. His voice is hoarse. He can't drag his eyes away from your pretty bottom and the wet spot on your panties. Bucky smirks up at the blonde man, thinking the same.

"Continue."

Bucky slaps your ass without warning, and for some reason, you know the reason behind it.

"Please," you add.

"Good girl," Bucky hums, petting your skin again. "Are you sure you want to continue? We can stop now, Doll."

"No," you argue. "I want to continue. Please."

Slap.

By the time your punishment ends, you are a crying, horny mess on your bodyguard's lap. Your lips taste like tears, and your body burns with pain and desire, and you don't know which one is more important.

"Twenty-six," Bucky says after the last smack. A relieved sigh leaves your lips in quiet sobs while you let the man adjust you on his lap. Now your bum is on his thighs with your legs at his sides. His arms are around you, petting you and caressing you everywhere.

"You were so good, Doll," he praises you quietly. "So brave for me, hm?"

You nod. "Am I forgiven?"

"Yes," he smiles. "You are forgiven now."

"Thank you."

"Can you stand up?" Steve's voice cuts into your conversation as he comes back from the bathroom. The bulge in his pants is obvious, but you try not to think about it.

"I think," you reply, but your legs still shake, and your mind is dizzy. You didn't notice how tired you got until now.

"You know what," Bucky starts, holding your arm to help you. His voice is soft and patient. "Lay down on the bed."

You let him move you and adjust you on the soft covers. Your red bottom is in front of their eyes again.

"It's a soothing balm," Steve explains, pulling your panties aside a bit from your sore cheek.

Steve's movements are slow, and his touch is soft. The cream helps soothe the burning of your skin, and while they are busy praising you, you fall asleep on Bucky's bed, cocooned in his musky scent.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #stucky x reader #bodyguard au #marvel imagine #avengers imagine

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xtrafluffyteddy · 2 years

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Intrusion

Pairing: Steve harrington x reader

Mentions: cursing, past neglect, happy ending, minor fighting

Part of the home for wayward souls series

It was just you and Steve in the living room when the wicked witch of the west darkened your doorstep on an otherwise relaxing day. “who could that be” you groan prying yourself out of Steve’s arms much to his annoyance to go figure out who the fuck was knocking on your door.

“Can I help you” you mumble tiredly after swinging open the door coming face to face with a tall well dressed woman “is my son here?” She snarks crossing her arms over her chest as she stared down at you with something akin to disgust “depends who’s your son?” You stretch a bit before turning around when Steve calls out “who’s at the door?” You look back at the lady then towards Steve who had sat up by now “some lady says she’s lookin for her son or somethin” you turn back to the lady who looks more and more annoyed by the second “Steve harrington is my son I heard he lives here” you huff and call for Steve again who was already getting up to see what was taking so long.

You watched the color drain from his face when he came face to face with his mother “m-m-mom I- what are you doing here” he finally chokes out after a bit “I’m here to stay with you.” Steve blinks rapidly sharing a look with you “I-I don’t- there isn’t much room for anyone else” he mumbles quickly gripping your hand for comfort “well that’s fine she can just sleep on the couch and I’ll sleep in her room” his mother said as she shoved past you pushing all her bags into Steve’s arms before you or him could say anything.

It was hell, pure hell having her living in the house it had only been 2 days and you already wanted to throttle her and kick her to curb but you didn’t, as much as you wanted to because Steve asked you to play nice and that she shouldn’t be here much longer. She found something wrong with everything, oh the wallpapers peeling, and this is such an ugly color, or this food is practically inedible only to then cook something that stunk up the house for the rest of the night.

What broke the camels back though was when Max asked to borrow your makeup and one of your dresses for a concert she was going to with her friends which you happy to let her use only to hear Steve’s mother scoff. “I’m sorry do you have a problem…” you turn towards her fighting the urge to snatch YOUR remote to YOUR tv out of her hand while she sat her pompous ass on YOUR couch “I just think that young ladies shouldn’t wear so much makeup it turns them into whores you know” your eye twitches as Steve quickly tries to defuse the situation before you rip his mother a new one but it was too late “of course you’d know all about that wouldn’t you” she snarks looking right at you “I mean a young lady shaking with three men you must have tons of fun don’t you” she flicks her eyes towards you smirk on her face like she had won.

Before Steve could stop you you were on her grabbing her by the collar and pulling at her hair “get the fuck out of my house you raggedy bitch, how dare you come in here use all my shit and then think you can get away with saying me and my kid are whores” you snarl tightening your grip “it was just friendly advice” she shrieks trying to pull your hand out of the tight grip it had on her hair “I’m not gonna take advice from a bitch who’s son doesn’t even like her, now get the fuck out” while you were screaming at her you were dragging her through the living room towards the front door she cried and tried to wrench herself free “Steve are you just gonna let her do this to me! I’m your mom!” She cries looking towards her son who just decided to take a seat where she once was “her house her rules besides shoulda watched your mouth sorry mother” you wrenched open the door and sent her tumbling down your porch landing in a heap on the hard asphalt “get the fuck offa my property before I do something ten times worse” she gasps and quickly stands up brushing herself off the best she can before shrieking “what about my stuff” right before you were gonna go get it from your room max was already coming up behind you arms full of her stuff before tossing it into the dirt and flipping her off “and stay out you raggedy bitch” she yells causing you to grin proudly as you both flip her off and slam the door in her fucked up face.

“Thanks sweetpea” you coo kissing the top of Maxs head “you know where my make up is go wild” you smile as she runs off down the hall towards your bedroom before turning to Steve who’s grinning from the couch “that was kinda hot baby” he says reaching out for you, you snicker and walk towards him making yourself comfortable in his lap “glad you thought so I strive to please” you flip your hair playfully before you sigh softly cupping Steve’s cheeks “how’d you even put up with that woman growing up” he shrugs “I didn’t she always left me with nanny’s and maids” you nod feeling a sense of sadness that Steve grew up with no one to love him before shaking yourself out of the sad thoughts smiling at your handsome boyfriend “well atleast you turned out sweet as can be” you coo pinching his cheek causing him to blush “I should be sayin that to you” he huffs before pulling you down into a soft but passionate kiss “thanks for being there” he mumbles against your lips “anytime” you murmur softly.

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington my beloved #steve stranger things #steve st4

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andysbubba · 2 years

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𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗿 - 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘂𝗲

-> you're used to freedom. but now you have to live with a bodyguard and have him follow you everywhere. well, at least he's pretty nice to look at, right?

pairing | bodyguard! ransom x reader

a/n | no ransom in this little prologue yet, it's just a little intro/starter to this series before I start getting a little deeper.

warnings | bucky and steve are good bros (and they're man-whores) . protective family (not in a bad way)

---

You clicked your tongue, unwilling to accept papa's decision even though it was supposed to be for your own safety. You'd agree to anything, and you'd trust him with everything.

Literally anything but hiring a bodyguard.

There's just something about it that makes you feel vulnerable. And it'll only make people think that you're just a stuck-up spoiled, rich kid who uses Daddy's money and can't even take care of herself.

As if you don't already face enough of that negativity.

"Papa-"

The old man was quick to stop your train of thoughts, knowing his daughter well enough to know what's going on in your mind.

"I need to know that you're always safe, little one." Papa leans back against his office chair, a soft smile forming on his face. One that's reserved for the people he cares about the most. "Let your old man have a peace of mind, will you?"

You've always had a hard time saying no to him. Or anyone in the family. Even if you said no to papa, it'll only take some time before mama or one of your brothers came knocking on your door to convince you otherwise.

"Will Buck and Stevie get guards too?" You knew the answer to the question, but it still didn't hurt to ask.

Papa chuckles, pushing his chair back and standing up. "You know my answer, sweetheart. I'm more protective when it comes to you." He walks over to you and rests a hand on your shoulder. "Steve and James are more than capable of defending themselves."

Before you could even open your mouth to speak, papa only shakes his head and holds a hand up to stop you.

"Even your mother wanted you to have a bodyguard. It was either this, or you move in with your brothers." He arches a brow, as if daring you to go against him.

You visibly shivered at the thought of moving in with Bucky and Steve. The memories of slutty moans and your brothers' obviously pleasure-filled grunts are way too traumatising. It was torture and you never want to live through that again.

It's a fight you'll lose if you even considered fighting. It's four to one, and you're on the losing side.

"This won't be permanent, right?" You mutter out as you and papa walked out of his study to head downstairs for breakfast.

"Just till the situation gets better, little one."

---

You mentally thanked your brothers in your head. If you were going to spend 24/7 with a bodyguard that you reluctantly agreed to hire, you'd appreciate if he at least looks good in a suit and tie. Bucky and Steve interviewed the potential candidates and somehow, they picked someone who looks almost too good in the uniform.

He's extremely handsome, and muscular. But he seems a little too uptight. And you know that there's gonna be lots of problems trying to bend the rules and get away from him.

"Hugh Drysdale, Miss. You can call me Ransom." He offers you his hand.

The grim look on his face makes you wonder why he's even here in the first place. There's a shit ton of jobs out there and he really decided to risk his life for a big company's heir. And he doesn't even look like he wants to be here in the first place.

"Where did Ransom come from?"

"It's my middle name, Miss."

You nod, taking his offered hand and shook it. "Y/n Barnes. And drop the formalities, please. We're gonna live together after all."

"I'd rather keep things professional, Miss."

You almost winced at the title. God, it makes you sound so stuck-up.

You flash him a kind smile. "Very well, Hugh."

Ransom almost grimaced at the name. He knows right then and there that it'll be tough working with you. His job isn't even that tough. Just keep you safe and follow you around.

At least the pay was good.

---

an | TELL ME WHAT YA THINK LOL. i'm actually scared to continue writing thisbz hdbzhsjs. anyways uhm slide into my taglist if you wanna be notified for future chapters!

• 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 • 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲'𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 •

#ransom thrombey x reader #chris evans #chris evans x reader #cevans #cevans x reader #chris evans smut #chris evans fluff #ransom thrombey angst #ransom thrombey fanfic #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdsle angst #ransom drysdale angst #hugh ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale

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shurisneakers · 3 years

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harmless (iv)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, guns, mention of war, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: good evening i’ve never been to any of the places i mention in this series so dont come @ me

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

He spends the weekend doing nothing. It’s supposed to be relaxing. He finds it nauseatingly boring.

“No mini mission this week?” Steve asks him from across the couch.

They’re supposed to be catching up on Star Wars but two prequels in and Bucky could feel himself lose his sanity. Anyone could present him with a random assortment of alphabets, call it a Star Wars species and he would have no reason not to believe them.

It’s not like he doesn’t like space. It’s just that he’s had enough of it and everything and everyone who came from it for the foreseeable future.

“No. Someone else is taking care of it.”

“Didn’t you volunteer for this?”

“I pulled myself out of the case.”

“I thought you were having fun.”

Bucky’s head slowly turns to look at him. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Steve shrugged. “Looked like you were.”

Well, he wasn’t. He likes it here at home, glued to the TV. Popcorn beside him, sweatpants on. Refreshing, calming, slow, mundane, and Jesus Christ, so fucking boring-

His spiralling is interrupted by the dinging of the elevator to the common floor. No one was allowed up there unless it was extremely urgent. Guests were barely allowed into the Tower as it was.

It reveals the receptionist from downstairs, Marie. She’s always a little reserved, a little shy. But Bucky had seen her chew and spit out trespassers or anyone who dared to get on her nerve. He adores her.

“Hey, Marie,” Steve says while Bucky sends her a friendly wave in greeting. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a hostage situation downtown,” she informs them.

“Okay...” Steve drawls, waiting for a reason why this was an Avengers level threat.

“They’ve asked for Mr. Barnes by name.” She makes a mention towards him.

Bucky sits up straight. Bits of popcorn fall off his chest.

“What?”

“They said, and I quote-” she looks down at her notepad. “‘Tell that grumpy motherfucker that I’m waiting for him and that he’s not getting out of this so easily because we have come too far.’ End quote. They’ve also told me to include a kissing emoji. And a skull.”

Steve and he look at each other.

“Well?” Steve prods.

Bucky sighs and gets up to go get ready.

The entrance of Chuck E. Cheese is more crowded than he’d ever seen. He wasn’t even sure he’d seen people in the store before. If there were, they probably only came up till his waist.

There are a few journalists, a few policemen standing together outside. Whispers of confusion and curiosity reigned free.

Bucky gently pushes his way to the front. He gets a nod from a police officer who opens the door for him after a quick briefing.

The place is darker than it usually would be. A trademark, it seemed. The blinds are drawn shut and most of the light is coming through whatever sneaks in through the crack.

“Hey, Barnes.” Your voice is muffled by a mask that looks suspiciously like it was made out of classroom craft supplies.

There’s a person in a loose chokehold in your hand with a gun pressed against his head. Once again it looks straight out of a cartoon, purple with round disks lining its barrel.

“What’s all this now?” He gestures around monotonously.

“A hostage situation. Didn’t you get the memo?”

“Got that part down, genius,” he bites back. “But why?”

“Fucker kept harassing me when I was walkin’ down the street.”

The guy’s helpless gaze met Bucky.

“Catcalling me, stalking me.” You tighten the grip you have on him. “Call me darlin’ one more time, you son of a bitch. I dare you.”

He wasn’t impressed with his pleading eyes. He kinda felt like he deserved it.

“Why’d you do it here?” The bright colours were starting to give him a heading. “And where are the staff?”

“It’s symbolic, Bucky,” you emphasise, “He deserves to be among other rat bastards.”

Of course.

“The staff?” he asks again.

“Gave them thirty bucks and told them to leave. I’m not a monster.”

“Right.” He doesn’t bother refuting you. “Why’d you call me here?”

“Dunno.” You shrug. “Thought it’d be fun. You having fun yet?”

You shake the guy you’re holding. He gives a small whimper.

Bucky doesn’t want to stop you. He had chugged enough Respect Juice in his lifetime to know that this guy probably deserved a threat or two.

Hell, he’d even help but you were more than capable of handling this on your own.

“Listen,” he sighed. “As much as I’m sure he deserves it, this is technically illegal and I’m required to stop you.”

“Sorry sarge, I thought you weren’t interested in playing this stupid game with me,” you mock, voice dropping to imitate him.

“I’m not.” It wasn’t entirely true. One Saturday with Jar Jar Binks had convinced him otherwise.

“Okay, so before you leave, do me a favour and call Hawkeye. I hear he looks mighty fine when he’s annoyed.”

His face involuntarily scrunched up. You were going to replace him with Clint? Clint?

He probably took it more as an insult than he should have.

“I’m not doing that.” Bless his foul mouthed friend, but he was a little shit who was too sarcastic for his own good. At least twice a week he’d say something stupid to Bucky and then take out his hearing aids when he tried to argue back.

“You’re leavin’ me with no options here,” you groaned, using your thumb to flip a switch. The gun looks like it powered up, lights along the side turning red.

If he let you have this, it’d be a bad look for the Avengers.

New York man dies in Chuck E. Cheese lone hostage situation, unable to be saved by same superhero who tried to fight Thanos with a machine gun.

“Tell ya what,” he says instead, “If you kill him, there won’t even be a slight chance that you’ll see me again.”

Your grip on the gun falters.

“If I let him go...”

“I might consider coming back next week.” He’s trying to spin it, make it look like he’s the one with the upper hand here. “But you gotta let him go.”

You search his face for any signs of dishonesty.

“Let him go or you’ll never see me again.” It sounds too much like Clint’s arguments with his dog who brought a live squirrel into the house.

“Fine,” you relent, a glint in your eye. “but say goodbye to this fuckface.”

Before Bucky can open his mouth to shout in protest, you pull the trigger. The man clenches his eyes shut, face red.

He expects blood to be splatter across his face.

Nothing happens.

A barrage of bubbles floats into the room.

“I meant it literally,” you say, pushing him off you. “Say goodbye. He’s leaving.”

The man stumbles to the ground and Bucky doesn’t make any attempt to catch him. He scrambles to his knees, picking himself up and scurrying out the door to a hoard of reporters.

The door shuts behind him with the chime of a bell.

“You’re annoying,” Bucky states, giving a small sigh.

“I’m well aware of that.” You pull off the mask, wiping the sweat off your brow.

“Where is the agent assigned to your case?”

“Dunno. Last I saw he was crying on the driveway of my lair. I just figured he’d pick himself up later so I left him there.”

Bucky’s nose twitches.

“You weren’t actually going to kill him, were you.” He shrugs with his shoulder towards the door. It wasn’t a question, more a statement. He knew you wouldn’t.

“I could have.”

“But you weren’t going to,” he repeats.

“No,” you admit. “I wasn’t. But I’m glad to see you showed up.”

“You held someone hostage as leverage.”

“No, no. I held someone hostage and then asked to see you. They were completely unrelated.”

“You’re evil.”

“You jumped to conclusions,” you point out. “Would you like a trampoline next time? Maybe a pogo stick, you clown?”

He has a very real gun in his holster. His very real metal death arm aches to use it.

“No one else agreed to come,” he deflects.

“We both know that’s a lie. You were going to come back anyway.” You stuff the bubble gun back into the bag. “I’m deliciously irresistible.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Then beg.” You give him a smirk and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, you win this round, sarge.”

He doesn’t say anything. He watches you remove your heist gear, revealing normal civilian clothes underneath.

You walk casually to the kitchen, intending to leave through the back door.

“But I can’t say I lost either.” You send him a wink before swiftly pushing open the door and leaving him behind.

He only watches you leave.

It doesn’t hit him until a few seconds later that he let a criminal out of his hands when there were several policemen and journalists outside.

He entertains the idea of chasing you down and handing you over.

It takes him only a few seconds to decide that if they wanted you, they’d have to try themselves.

Next part

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

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just-another-blog-of-fluff · 3 years

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A Game of Jealousy

Word count: 4050

This one is focused more from Loki's perspective, lots of fluff (and tickles!) Guest starring Bucky 😎

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Loki never needed anyone to make him happy. He’d spent the better part of his life on his own, learning to rely on himself and not others for comfort. He’d been lied to his entire life by his parents, and while his relationship with his brother was at least improving gradually over time, he still remained very guarded, afraid that anyone he let in would only hurt him the way everyone else in his life had done. No, Loki felt he was better off alone.

That is, until he met you.

You had joined the team about a year ago, just a few months after Loki himself had finally given in to his brother’s persistent requests for him to move into the Avengers tower. The others were polite enough, but Loki could still sense the fear and anger in their eyes when they looked his way. Thor insisted they would warm up to him over time if he’d just try to be more sociable, but it was difficult to bring himself to want to spend time with people who burned holes into his soul with their eyes.

The day you had arrived to move into the tower to join the team, your few belongings in hand, his curiosity was piqued almost instantly. Steve had showed you around that first day, introducing you to all the members of the team. Loki had been in the study, reading in one of the oversized armchairs Tony had furnished the place with, when he saw Steve walking by the doorway with you in tow. You’d paused for a moment, taking a few paces backward to peek inside the room, eyes trained on Loki. He had braced himself for the inevitable exclamation of surprise and fear when you realized that you were living in the same building as the monster who tried to take over the city.

But it never came. You had merely smiled at him, waving in greeting, and introduced yourself as you would with anyone else. Even when he told you his name, your eyes lit up in recognition, but without an ounce of fear. You had hurried along to catch up with Steve after expressing your pleasure to have met him, a slight bounce in your step as you disappeared from sight.

He couldn’t deny it – he was intrigued by you.

Loki’s interest only grew as he began to get to know you more over the next couple of months. The first day he had seen you working with Natasha in the training room, you had impressed him with your grit and determination, not to mention the graceful ferocity with which you fought. And you were smart, too. He’d never forget the day Tony was teasing you, and you’d come up with such a witty retort that even Tony had to applaud you.

Unfortunately, Loki wasn’t the only one in the tower who had started noticing you.

As you became more integrated with the team, the others began to get more physically affectionate toward you. You spent a lot of time with Wanda, often leaning against her on the couch as you watched TV or giving her hand a squeeze when one of you was excited about something. Steve often put a comforting hand on your shoulder after a rough day of training or patted your back in encouragement when you came back from a successful mission. The friendly gestures never bothered Loki to any significant degree.

But there were other team members, notably single team members, whose advances tended to irk him more than the others. Thor was one of the worst offenders, as it was in his nature to wrap any one of his friends into a giant bear hug whenever he saw them. Bucky often liked to push your buttons, teasing you and egging you on until you’d start play wrestling with him on the couch. Even Bruce, on occasion, would wrap an arm around you in a side hug and squeeze you against his side for a moment in silent thanks whenever you’d help him with something in the lab.

He wasn’t jealous, of course. He just… wished they’d give you more personal space sometimes.

You were physically affectionate with Loki as well, which took some time for him to get used to at first. Once Loki started swallowing his pride and began initiating conversations with you instead of waiting for you to talk to him, the two of you became fast friends. He found he didn’t mind it when you squeezed his arm after a jump scare during team movie night, or if you rested your head on his shoulder on a long plane ride home from a mission. Dare he say… he even enjoyed it a bit. Recently, he’d developed enough confidence to initiate physical contact with you himself – giving you a quick hug goodnight when walking you to your room after a late-night conversation or resting his hand on your knee when sitting side by side on the couch.

Yes, you were someone he was willing to tolerate.

One evening, Loki was wandering through the compound, trying to find a quiet place to sit and read. Normally he lounged in the study, but it seemed Peter had overtaken the room with his schoolbooks as he studied frantically for one of his final exams the next day, and he showed no signs of leaving. He decided it would be easiest just to read in his room tonight but decided to swing by the kitchen to grab a glass of water before making his way back there.

As he paced down the hallway, a sound coming from the common room captured his attention. He drew near enough to the door to elucidate that it was your bright, infectious laughter that he was hearing. His heart swelled at the sound. Loki very much enjoyed making you laugh, often telling you embarrassing stories of Thor from their childhood, or otherwise whispering inappropriate jokes in your ear during team meetings, just so he could hear you snort before erupting with giggles. He reached the common room and stood in the doorway, trying to identify the cause for your hysterics.

You and Bucky were sitting on the large sofa in the common room. Although, admittedly, you couldn’t really call it sitting. You were leaning away from the super soldier, giggling frantically and swatting at his hands as he wiggled his fingers into your sides.

“Buckyhyhy! Cut it out!” you ordered, grasping at his wrists. Bucky’s agile hands evaded yours, poking and prodding at your belly and sides.

“What? What’s the matter? I thought you said you weren’t ticklish,” he teased, squeezing gently above your kneecaps, and eliciting a squeal.

A pang of jealousy stung in Loki’s chest. He had discovered your ticklishness a few months ago himself, having accidentally jabbed you a bit too gently in the side during an impromptu sparring session. When he dug his fingers into your torso with more intent, you had shrieked and laughed, but hadn’t pushed away as hard as he knew you could. He interpreted it as you enjoying the playfulness, or at least not minding it all that much. Since then, he had experimented on occasion, proudly discovering over time that you were definitely most sensitive right along your ribs where your back and sides met. He delighted in the silly, giggly mess you became when he scribbled his fingers into that spot, practically melting into his side as your muscles weakened with laughter.

Now, watching you and Bucky as he tested out your vulnerable spots, he felt his throat tighten a bit. He knew he had to find a way to interrupt this little exchange without letting on how he was really feeling inside. Luckily, the God of Mischief knew how to tell a good lie, and above all he most definitely knew how to spin a partial truth.

“You’re doing it wrong, Barnes,” he called into the room, leaning with his forearm propped against the doorway. Both you and Bucky glanced up at him, Bucky’s fingers slowing a bit against the back of your knee but not quite stopping.

“L-Lokihihi! Help!” you pleaded, a bright smile on your face, cheeks tinged with the exertion of your laughter. His heart skipped a bit at the request, proud that you would seek his assistance to escape the winter soldier. But he had to hold firm in his resolve. He couldn’t let you think he was soft for you, after all.

“Now, why would I want to do that? It’s so entertaining to watch you squirm.” He flashed you an evil grin, slowly striding into the room. “Move over, Barnes. Allow me to demonstrate.”

Bucky obliged, an equally mischievous smirk on his face. “Please, do tell!”

Loki motioned to you to scoot closer to Bucky so he could sit on your other side, gently pushing you over when you refused to make space for him on your own accord. You were now sandwiched between him and the super soldier, glancing nervously between the two men. In a desperate attempt to escape, you suddenly leapt to your feet to make a run for the door. Loki predicted your movement, his hands pulling you back down by your waist before you could even fully stand up.

“Ah, ah! You won’t be going anywhere, darling,” Loki teased, holding you in place while he leaned around you to look at Bucky. He ignored your desperate protests in favor of keeping you trapped there beside him. “Now then. First, you must understand that you won’t be able to access her worst spot until you weaken her adequately. Personally, I enjoy beginning right here.” He slid his hands slid around your waist to your belly, fingers drumming tauntingly against your T-shirt. Loki felt your muscles stiffen immediately under his touch, which made him grin.

“Loki! What the hell! Why are you helpihiHING HIHIHIM?” Your scolding of your mischievous friend was made much less intimidating as giggles bubbled from your lips once again, Loki’s fingers having sprung into action, expertly skimming across your belly. Your hands closed around his wrists and tugged to try to remove them from your sensitive torso, but Loki maintained his hold on you.

“Ah, yes, I see that is quite effective,” Bucky noted somberly, his eyes flashing. “Please, continue to show me your ways.”

“Notice that she will continue to fight you when you tickle her here, but trust that her laughter is slowly beginning to weaken her,” Loki continued, conversing casually as if he weren’t torturing you. “However, if you aren’t cautious-“

“Ha!” you shouted triumphantly, having twisted out of his grip and jumped to your feet.

“-she may find a way to escape.”

“That is unfortunate,” Bucky lamented. “What do you suggest if that were to occur?”

“No! No suggestions!” you demanded, defiantly holding out a hand toward the boys to protect yourself. Loki raised his eyebrows, looking up at you with a serious expression, although he was unable to prevent a smirk from pulling at the corners of his lips. You appeared so much more composed on the battlefield and in the training room – seeing you so disheveled, yet still with an involuntary smile on your face, made a thrill run through Loki’s chest.

“If she does escape,” Loki continued, completely disregarding your protests, and trying desperately not to start laughing at your adorably indignant expression, “you simply need to ensure you have a backup plan. Catch her off guard, if you will. Like this-“

Taking advantage of his inhuman speed, he lunged forward and grabbed your leg just behind your knee, causing your leg to buckle unexpectedly beneath you. He chuckled as he watched you stumble a bit on your other leg to try to remain standing but couldn’t maintain your balance and toppled to the floor. Loki swiftly took advantage of your bewilderment at finding yourself suddenly on the ground, standing up and grabbing hold of your ankle.

“Now, you won’t find her worst spot on her legs or feet, but she is most definitely still sensitive here – this can serve to weaken her resolve further,” Loki continued, fully aware that he was causing a blush to rise in your cheeks now as he tugged on your ankle to straighten your leg, yanking you onto your back. You began cursing at him, which he quickly silenced by dusting his fingertips across the sole of your trapped foot. He had discovered this spot a few weeks ago, when you had refused to move your legs to allow him a place to sit. Not to be deterred, he had plopped himself down atop your shins, grinning at you as he had tested your reaction to his fingers dragging up the bottoms of your feet. The frenzied giggles this elicited from you were some of his favorites, only encouraging him to want to continue with the torment.

“But what about her knees? Will that help to weaken her resolve?” Bucky queried, smirking down at you as you shot him a glare.

“Allow me to show you,” Loki obliged, his hand moving to scratch against the delicate underside of your knee. You snorted, then, and he nearly broke his façade by laughing aloud. He experimentally pinched your calf muscle gently, just below your knee, and was not disappointed by your sudden violent jerking of your leg away from his touch. “Ah, a new weak spot. You see, even being an expert at tormenting our little friend, you can still learn something new.” Loki was speaking to Bucky but kept his eyes trained on you, smirking as you beat your fist against the floor in protest.

“I thought wehehe were friends!!” you cried through your laughter. Feeling somewhat merciful, Loki paused his torture and lowered your leg back to the ground, offering you a hand up.

“I apologize, darling; are you tired of this?” Loki asked, holding a hand down to you in offering to help you to your feet. He kept his hand outstretched as you sat up on the floor, your eyes fixed on his, brows furrowed as if trying to decipher whether he was tricking you. Hesitantly, you took his hand. Your skin was pleasantly warm against his own, which almost made him regret what he was about to do.

Almost.

No sooner had your feet rooted onto the ground beneath you did he grab hold of your arm, spinning you around and wrapping both arms tight around your waist. He wasted no time dragging you backward so your back was flush against his chest, his ticklish touch making its way to your lower ribs. You let out a shriek, followed by rambunctious belly laughter. He relished in the feeling of your giggles vibrating against his chest as he tightened his grip around your waist, holding fast against your desperate thrashing.

“If you can convince the girl to trust you,” he continued, having to speak loudly to be heard over your squealing, “an unwise decision, honestly,” he added, his voice rumbling low in your ear, “you may be able to trick her into falling into your trap.” You screamed his name as he walked his fingers agonizingly slowly up your ribcage, your fingers hooking around his wrists and pulling desperately at his hands.

“An excellent tip, thanks for that,” Bucky teased. You whined at his words, which somehow only made your laughter even more adorable. Loki had the sudden urge to squeeze you tighter and nuzzle his nose into your neck, but he thought that you might interpret such a gesture as a flirtatious advance, and he didn’t want to spoil this little game.

At this point you were doubled over, hands weakly tugging at Loki’s fingers as your muscles began to fatigue. Loki could sense that you were leaning more and more of your weight on his arms as you tired, forcing him to tighten his grip even further to keep you from collapsing onto the floor. He slowed his torment a bit, allowing you a moment to rest. You gasped for air, your chest heaving under his forearms with every breath.

“Notice, Barnes, that she has weakened considerably by this point,” Loki explained, continuing under the ruse of showing Bucky how to torture you. “It is only at this level of exhaustion that you will be able to target her one true weak spot.”

Loki felt you jolt at his suggestion, twisting your torso as much as you could in his vice-like grip to look back at him, wide-eyed. You shook your head, pleading with him. He hardened his expression, albeit with some difficulty as he was struggling to wipe the smile off his face, and he splayed his fingers across your ribs so his fingertips rested just along that overly sensitive spot near your back on each side. You were already giggling, bracing yourself for the inevitable torment that was to come.

“Ahahahaha… please Loki, you dohohon’t have to do thihihis!” you begged, pouting at him. Loki couldn’t help but laugh at that, his heart melting at your tiny frown and protruding bottom lip. For a moment, he considered releasing you. But then again, he was getting drunk off of your sweet laughter, and he wasn’t ready for it to stop.

“Sorry, love – I have to show Barnes how to tickle you properly,” he lamented, a faux sympathetic smile on his lips. Before you could beg him once more and break his resolve, he went in for the kill, fingers drilling into the crevices between your ribs. You screeched, torso jerking in his grip for a moment before going limp as you accepted your fate. Loki knew exactly how to tickle you, his fingers expertly vibrating against your ribcage until your laughter became silent. He finally relented after that, loosening his hold so you could catch your breath but not releasing you yet.

With his arms loosened, he could lean around to get a better view of your face. Your cheeks were bright, small tears of mirth collecting in the corners of your eyes. You still had a smile plastered across your face, so wide it caused your nose to scrunch up the tiniest bit. Loki’s heart fluttered at the sight of you, pleased that he had been the cause of your giddy laughter.

“That was an excellent demonstration,” Bucky observed, winking at you as you groaned. “Could I give it a go?”

Loki hesitated, and you stiffened, already arguing with the super soldier. He had anticipated this might occur, given he was supposedly teaching Bucky how to tickle you ‘correctly.’ Still, the idea of having to watch Bucky’s fingers skittering over your belly or scribbling into your knees made his throat burn with jealousy. If he refused, though, he would almost surely give away his feelings.

Reluctantly, though he hid it well, Loki motioned for Bucky to take his place behind you, releasing you only once Bucky’s arms snaked around your waist. Your pleas for mercy were quickly drowned out by your laughter once again as Bucky’s fingers spidered along your ribcage.

“You weren’t kidding – this is much more effective,” Bucky noted, your resolve already weakened from the prior bout of torment. Loki watched as you leaned involuntarily backward into the winter soldier, your head resting back against his shoulder as you submitted to his ticklish onslaught. Loki’s fingers contracted into a tight fist at his side, willing himself not to intervene and give away his displeasure. But damn it, if watching Bucky’s fingers exploring your ticklish sides wasn’t setting a fire in his belly. It felt as though someone had grabbed hold of his heart in his chest and was squeezing it painfully tightly in their clutches.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

Knowing you wouldn’t appreciate if he lashed out at your friend, Loki placed a firm hand on Bucky’s forearm, urging him to stop without saying a word. Confusion etched itself into Bucky’s features as he stilled his fingers against your sides, his grip around you loosening. Your eyes were shimmering with exertion as you looked up at Loki pleadingly.

“I believe she has had enough for today,” Loki stated sternly. He took a step toward the two of you, swiftly scooping you up bridal style in his arms without a second thought. You let out a squeak of surprise as your feet left the ground, your arms instinctively reaching up to wrap around Loki’s neck to stabilize yourself. He turned back around with you in his arms, looking Bucky in the eye. “I’ll be taking her now, thank you.”

Bucky held Loki’s gaze, his face contorting from confusion to surprise, then finally to a knowing smirk. He nodded in approval, waving him off nonchalantly as he returned to his original seat on the couch and turned on the television. Loki carried you out of the room, a fuzzy warmth spreading through his chest as you began to giggle once again, leaning your head into his shoulder.

He arrived at your room, opening the door with his magic so as not to risk dropping you, then turned to avoid striking your head on the doorframe as he carried you inside. Carefully, he set you down on your bed. You sat up, your legs dangling off the edge of the bed as you smiled up at him.

“Your savior has rescued you from the winter soldier’s clutches,” Loki teased, smirking.

“Excuse me – my savior? If I recall, you were the one who nearly tickled me to death,” you retorted, playfully shoving him as he sat down beside you on the bed.

“You enjoyed every minute of it, love,” he smirked, giving you a swift poke in the side to make you jump. You smirked back at him with mischief in your eyes.

“You know, I know exactly what you were doing back there.” Something in your calculated gaze made Loki’s heartbeat quicken ever so slightly.

“Is that so? And what is it you think I was doing?” Loki asked, trying to keep his tone casual and sarcastic to avoid giving himself away. You leaned closer to him, bravely holding his gaze.

“You were jealous of Bucky,” you declared. “You couldn’t stand to see him with his hands on me, even when it was as innocent as tickling. You don’t think I noticed?”

Loki opened his mouth to retort, but for quite possibly the first time in his life, the silver-tongued god was at a loss for words. You maddeningly perceptive thing. You’d seen straight through his little façade and into his heart. Your eyes glowed with the triumph of having silenced the God of Mischief with just a simple observation.

“Do you deny it?” you queried, your grin expanding. Loki sighed, recognizing he’d been caught.

“No, love. I can’t deny it.”

“Good.” Your hand reached up to touch his cheek, leaning forward and pressing your lips against his. The shock of your sudden advance was quickly replaced by elation, and Loki kissed you back fervently. His hands found your waist, gently grasping your hips with enough weight in his touch to keep from tickling you. He felt you smile sweetly against his lips. When you finally broke away, Loki lifted his hands to cup your face, resting his forehead against yours. “Now then – I believe I’m owed some payback for the torture you just put me through…”

“Oh, really?” Loki raised his eyebrows at you, grinning playfully. “And how do you intend to execute such revenge?”

“Hmm… Maybe I’ll just take a page out of your book.” The mischief in your eye reminded him uncannily of himself. He suddenly felt your delicate fingers squeezing into his side, making him jolt. Your face lit up with pure joy as you witnessed his reaction.

Oh, he couldn’t be having that.

His arms were wrapped around you in a flash, dragging you into his chest and leaning backward until you were lying on top of his chest in his arms, eliciting a squeal. He leaned in close, his lips right beside your ear.

“Darling, you don’t want to be doing that.”

The room was soon filled with your frantic giggles once again. But this time, you really didn’t try to get away. Because in all honesty, he was right before – you loved every minute of it.

#loki tickle #ticklish!reader #tickle fluff #tickle fic #marvel tickle #ler!loki #ler!bucky #lee!reader

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wannabe-fic-writer · 3 years

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Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Long Way From Home Part 2

Summary: You and Natasha are left with the realization of what your future holds.

Genre: Fluff

Request: Yes / No

Word Count: 2,408

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You weren’t entirely sure what to expect after Katya’s return home. Hope led you to believe that the situation would draw yourself and Natasha closer. But realism made you understand that if/when that ever happens, it wouldn’t be anytime soon.

Natasha was even more shocked than you were to find out that Katya was her daughter from the future. That shock went even deeper when she realized that Katya’s other parent was you.

Maybe it was that realization that pushed her to stay away from you. And you didn’t want to further push her away by being overbearing.

So for the first few days, you’d given her all the space she needed. You resolved to not speak to her unless she spoke first, you made sure she knew you were there whenever she was ready but didn’t become annoying about it.

But days turned to weeks and she hadn’t said or done anything. With the knowledge of what the future held in your head, coupled with the feelings you already had towards Natasha, you decided to take a different approach.

Switching some things around on your personal and work schedule, you made it so that the two of you spent more time together: working out and training, going on missions, having breakfast together whenever she was actually hungry. Hell you even volunteered to do public appearances with her and everyone knows how much you hate those.

It was all in an attempt to get the woman you cared so deeply for to at least speak to you.

Luckily, it worked. Whatever the case may have been, her noticing the effort you were putting into being there for her or her getting annoyed with how persistent you are, she started to strike up little conversations when you were together.

None of the topics ever held much weight but they seemed to make you both happier, helped lift that tension between you two.

In a few weeks you two grew closer, as you’d hoped, occasionally throwing the term friend around which definitely grabbed the attention of your teammates, especially those who knew exactly how you felt about the redhead.

While neither of you brought up Katya or what her presence meant, both of you thought about it a lot. With good reason.

Having learned what you did from Banner during the “Time Heist”, you know that it’s possible that in this particular timeline you and Natasha don’t get together, or maybe you do but you break up, or you just never get married, or don’t have kids, or you adopt so you never have Katya. You’d have to talk to Doctor Strange to know the true number of possibilities but your head was ready to explode whenever you thought about it so you were fine not knowing.

The one thing you hoped with all hope, was that you kept Natasha in your life. No matter what the future became you just wanted- you needed Natasha there.

Only problem is, after all that progress you’d made in your relationship with her, everything stopped. Conversations, hanging out, seeing each other around, going on missions together. All of it went away. And it wasn’t because of you.

With how much your new schedule allowed you to see Natasha, you wouldn’t have dared to change it. Which let you know that it was her schedule that changed. Better put, she changed her schedule.

You aren’t sure what you’d done. The last time you spent together, the two of you had watched some movie that she really wanted to see. Conversation flowed freely, laughs and smiles exchanged in between. You’d ended up falling asleep during the sequel of the movie and woke up to her in your arms, her head tucked under your chin.

The moment had left you feeling completely content so, with her soft breaths against your neck and your arms wrapped around each other, you fell back to sleep with ease. Only to wake up to her gone. And you hadn’t seen her around since.

After everything, after all of that, you refused to take steps back. You’d fight for her until she told you to stop.

“Um, anyone see Natasha?” You ask, stepping into the kitchen.

Today marks a week of not seeing the redhead around as she continues to dodge you. You had been looking all over her, your search interrupted by Steve calling you and Bucky into a meeting regarding your last mission with him. But now that it’s over you’re back to looking for her.

Sam, Bucky, and Wanda look up at you as you walk in. Your brunette friend raises her eyebrows at your question, tilting her head in silent curiosity.

Chuckling quietly, Sam asks,“ she still avoiding you?” His eyebrows wiggle slightly as he asks, amusement in his eyes.

You raise your eyebrow,“ I’m sorry Wilson I don’t understand what’s funny.” You tilt your head challengingly at him.“ Last I checked she’s still not giving you the time of day at all.”

Bucky and Wanda snort, struggling to hold in their laughs. Wanda bites her lip and turns away from Sam, having to sit her mug of tea down as she finally lets her laugh out. Which breaks Bucky’s resolve. Splutters of laughter leaving both of them as they face away from you and Sam.

He smacks his lips and waves you off,“ it ain’t even that funny.” He grumbles and looks down at his lunch.

“What’s not funny?”

Your eyebrows raise at the voice behind you, eyes slightly widening in hope as you spin around. Green eyes look into yours and Natasha’s pink lips press into a thin line before she turns on her heel and walks away.

Looking back at the trio, you point at the spot Natasha had been in with a disbelieving chuckle. Only to have Wanda shoo you away, gesturing for you to go after Natasha. Understanding what she means, you immediately take off after the ex-assassin.

Luckily for you she hadn’t gone far.

You turn the corner and see her marching down the hallway. She’s moving much faster than you’d like, not giving you time to truly appreciate the tight yoga pants and tank top that adorn her body.

Instead you focus on catching up with her, which doesn’t take much due to your enhanced genetics. Catching up to her just before she can get to her bedroom door, you reach out to grab her arm, gently pulling her back.

Only for her to twist her hand, grabbing your wrist and nearly slamming you into the wall, your arm twisted behind your back. You know if she wanted to she could make this hurt but she doesn’t. Most likely using it to intimidate you as she speaks.

“Stop following me Y/Ln.” She practically hisses through clenched teeth.

You turn your head to look at her over your shoulder.“ Usually I’d agree to that but not this time. I think I deserve some answers Tash.”

Using the little nickname causes her hold on you to loosen, her jaw unclenching.“ Don’t call me that.”

“Fine,” you huff, shoulders dropping as you turn your head slightly to hide your smirk.“ Just talk to me Natty.”

Her eyes roll and she drops your arm, stepping to the side and pushing her bedroom door open. Your eyes widen and you slip inside before the fingerprinted door closes and locks behind her.

She quickly spins around as you step in and the door closes. Irritation writes across her features even deeper than before.

“You can turn your ass right back around Y/Ln. I told you to stop following me.” Her arms cross over her chest.

Shaking your head you say,“ and I told you no.” A frown forms on your face as you look at her. Staring into those green eyes causes your feelings to swell.“ Don’t you see how this is hurting me? Being ignored by someone I care about without a single explanation as to why? And you can pretend that you don’t but it’s obviously affecting you too or you wouldn’t be so upset with me trying to talk to you.”

“Y/n just leave it alone. If I don’t want to talk, I don’t want to talk.” She tries to brush it off.“ We’ve gone without talking to each other before so just, go back to that.”

For a second you’re ready to walk away, catch her at a better time but you were done chasing her.“ No. I don’t want that and I don’t think you do either. Stop avoiding me and your feelings and just talk to me!” Your frustration pulls the words from your brain out of your mouth in an exasperated exclamation.

Natasha wastes no time returning the frustration.“ No okay!” She shouts, running her fingers through her hair.“ I don’t like feeling like this so I don’t want to talk about it!”

Eyebrows pinching together, you tilt your head in confusion.“ Feeling like what, Natasha?” A heavy sigh falls from your lips.“ You aren’t telling me something and it’s killing me.”

Silence falls between you, once again stirring up that frustration.

“What feeling?” You beg her to tell you, more thankful than ever for soundproof walls, otherwise the whole team would hear your yelling.

She glares at you as if you’d personally offended her, then shouts,“ like I’m falling in love with you!” Her hands rise and fall with her words. Resting at her sides in clenched fists as she keeps shouting.

You drop your hands, shoulders sagging as you feel your heart swell. It seems to start beating a mile a minute and your face softens.“ You’re falling in love with me?”

“Yes. No! I don’t know.” Her voice strains as if she’s choking up.“ I don’t know if this is real or not. Just because Katya exists in some future doesn’t mean that she exists in ours. It doesn’t mean that we’re supposed to be together.”

Those words, that simple expression of her feelings makes you realize that she’s been thinking about the exact same things you had been.

It’s not like what you’ve been feeling towards Natasha was forced. But you did worry if it was all just you subconsciously trying to make that future with Katya happen. Except you knew it wasn’t.

She: Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, ex-assassin/superhero, she’d had your heart long before Katya ever arrived. You fought it tooth and nail because the two of you weren’t on good terms but truth is, you’ve loved her since your first undercover mission almost 15 years ago.

The first time your best friend had pressed her lips against yours in a sweet kiss meant to distract and deter your targets, you knew you loved her. Maybe she didn’t feel what you did then but she’s feeling it now.

“I love you.” You tell her, watching as she stops ranting and looks at you with scared eyes. Giving her a soft smile, you take a cautious step closer, reaching forward to take her hand. You squeeze it, as if to let her know that this is real, that what you’re about to say is real.

“I’ve loved you for a long time now Natasha,” you take her other hand,“ Katya being here, the realization of who her parents are, that hasn’t forced my feelings for you. If anything it made me realize that I didn’t fight hard enough. I just let you go and I was so stupid for that. I should’ve tried harder to keep what we had, I should’ve said something about how I felt before.”

Green eyes bore into yours as you speak, a flood of emotions in them.“ Why say something now then? Why wait until you meet the little girl who we apparently parent? Just because it’s supposed to happen doesn’t mean it has to.” Her tone goes from genuinely curious to irritated in a matter of seconds.

But you don’t let that hinder you. Instead you smile softly at her, letting your honest feelings show in your eyes.“ Because I don’t think we’re supposed to be together. I think we’re meant to be together. Everything we’ve been through together, every laugh and argument, every insult and compliment, it’s all led us to this very moment.”

Fear overtakes her other emotions and it settles in her eyes.

“And yes it’s scary, terrifying even, but that makes it all the more beautiful. We can run from this. We can act like we don’t love each other, act like this isn’t what we want. But we both know that we,” you pull her hands up to press against your chest, knowing she can feel your heart pounding,“ this is home. It’s everything we need and more than we ever could’ve asked for.”

You see the battle in her eyes, you get a little scared that she’ll choose to run from it, so in a last attempt to fight for this you ask,“ don’t you think we’ve been away from home long enough?”

Like the clouds parting when a storm ends, you see Natasha’s eyes light up. They get bright as she stares at you and you finally finally see that gorgeous smile.

She pulls her hand from yours and before you can get dejected about it, she wraps it around the back of your neck and pulls you down.

When she speaks you feel the breath of her words against your lips,“ I’ve been looking for a true home for a long time.”

You understand exactly what she’s trying to convey, you hear the unspoken admission of feelings and you feel her opening the door for you to come in. So you do the same in return.

“I promise I’m not gonna hurt you Romanoff.”

In a split second her lips press against yours and it’s like you’re taken back in time. Those same feelings you’d had when she kissed you for the first time come back tenfold. Soft pink lips mold against yours as you place your free hand on her hip to pull her closer.

For a moment you wish you didn’t have to breathe as you wanted nothing more than to continue to kiss her. But your lungs start to protest at the lack of air so you both reluctantly pull away.

Natasha rests her head on your chest and you wrap your arms around her.

With her in your arms you can’t help but to think: It feels good to be home.

* * * * * *

Taglist: @owloftheshadows @natasha-danvers

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #marvel fic

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cockasinthebird · 3 years

Text

There’s a lot of things that Billy Hargrove loves about 4th of July. How loud the fireworks are, the chance to set something on fire without reprimand, barbecue food that reminds him of beach parties back home, beer just tastes better for some reason, the summer heat, and how scantily clad everyone is.

Guys with their exposed muscles, girls in their tiny bikinis.

Billy walks through the far too inebriated crowd spread out across the quarry, a beer in hand that is quickly warming up in his sweaty grasp, seemingly aimless in the way he looks at everyone who greets him all excited, then clearly disappointed that he didn’t stop to talk past pleasantries.

No, Billy is on a hunt; a hungry wolf looking for one specific lamb, no other temptations can match the urge for one pretty boy’s attention.

And he finds Steve Harrington, dressed in shorts too revealing and a top that ends just by his navel, leaning against the hood of someone’s car. Three girls in short skirts and bikini tops standing awfully close to him, listening intently - or at least pretending to - as he smiles all friendly and gestures with his red plastic cup to really emphasise whatever he’s saying.

Envy isn’t a thing Billy experiences, nah, definitely not, he reminds himself as he takes too big a gulp of his beer, yet it stirs sourly in the sudden pit of his stomach. They’re not dating, so he has no right to feel jealous about anything going on in front of him currently.

Yet when Steve leans in to whisper in one girl’s ear, causing her to giggle excessively and bash her eyes at him, Billy’s heart beats all wrong, fingers tightening around the neck of his bottle. It triggers that good old fight instinct in him, the one that used to make him throw fists with Steve before that handsome brunette dared kiss him.

Nothing’s been the same since- fucking Harrington; Billy was perfectly fine before that, completely, and now? Now he can’t stop thinking about their first time. Their second time. Their third. Fourth.

And what their fifth time might be like. Not that he’s keeping count, of course. Not that he’s anticipating it. Or thinking about it. Dreaming about it. Hoping…

Like a magnet to metal, Steve turns his head and his eyes lock right onto Billy’s, looking drunk but aware of how he’s being leered at. Something in his hooded gaze tells more than it should, like a confession to curiosity, answering questions that haven't yet been asked. At least not in so many words.

Billy takes a long swig of his beer, emptying the bottle and throwing it off to the side, then lets his eyes wander down - far enough for there to be absolutely no doubt what he’s thinking about, and from the way Steve smiles next only shows, “Message received.”

When Steve kicks off of the hood and moves to walk away from his little fangroup, one of the girls grabs on to his arm, with pleading eyes and a slight pout she says something Billy can’t hear, pressing her arms together to accentuate her tits, and Billy honestly can’t blame Steve for looking down at the inviting, soft flesh for a few seconds too many, before making up an excuse that sets him free.

The disappointment on all their faces feeds Billy’s narcissism immensely, and it shows in the grin that cracks across his face. Ah to know that he’s the first choice of princess Stevie’s desire, it washes away all that doubtful jealousy with warm waves of aroused excitement.

Steve stumbles just a slight bit as he approaches Billy, inebriated and smiling. “Hey Hargrove, got a smoke?”

Billy teases with his tongue out, biting down on it with shiny teeth, and oh the thrill when Steve’s eyes dart down to watch Billy wet his lips and appetite.

“Sure I do,” he says with the most suggestive grin. “But not here, otherwise everyone else will want to bum a smoke, too.”

Not an actual concern, but a plausible excuse to get Steve alone.

Twigs bend and snap under Billy’s heavy footfall, and perhaps he didn’t think this through, walking in the forest in flip flops. Every time he turns to look behind, Steve’s still there, following with his eyes cast down to calculate every step before taking it, brows knit and eyes squinting in concentration.

The music is still audible at this distance, but all the lights from cars and bonfires have been obscured by trees.

Billy can’t imagine anyone bothered following them all the way out here, and since he can only hear the faint pop music and Steve stumbling near, decides that, yeah, this is far enough.

Steve goes to slump against a tree, looking at Billy who fishes up a pack of cigs. “I didn’t actually follow you out here to smoke.”

“Oh really?” Billy chuckles deep and shoves the pack back into the pocket of his swimming trunks. “Just thought it’d be more courteous of me to offer you some anyways, but-”

One finger hooks itself on those red trunks and drags Billy closer till he lands close against Steve’s heated body.

“Eager, huh? Ah-” Billy hisses as Steve grinds their hips together, proving that he’s already sporting more than half a chub.

“I’ve been thinking about you for hours,” Steve admits with a slight slur, fingers working at the drawstrings of those red shorts. “Just waiting for you to show up, always fashionably late, wanna make sure everyone sees you, right?”

“Nothin’ wrong with liking being noticed,” Billy drawls with his nose pressed against Steve’s cheek, pursing his lips just enough to offer up light, almost chaste, kisses. “I’m more than worthy of the attention, don’t you think?”

“I do,” a whisper, and Steve turns his head to meet those gentle lips, just to then feel the breath of a moan graze his sweaty skin as he wraps his fingers around Billy’s girthy cock.

It teeters on the edge of uncomfortable, how stern a grasp Steve holds on his dick, the awkward movement of a clammy hand, but Billy grows hard quickly nevertheless, leaving him cursing and groaning.

“Fuck baby, ah-h…”

Steve smiles all too self-satisfied for doing such a half assed job.

With both arms extended above each of Steve’s shoulders, Billy braces himself against the tree, and when they kiss again - tongues dancing to the distant rhythm - he can taste absolutely every single sip of alcohol Steve’s had tonight, and Billy’s convinced it makes his own head spin a little.

“I want you so bad, Billy,” Steve whines all horny and pathetic into the embrace of their lips.

“Then turn around,” Billy’s voice is rough, demanding, confident, and he takes a step back to free up some space between them.

Steve lets out a shuddering breath at the chilling air between where their sweaty bodies had been connected, then swivels on his heels till his palms land firmly against rough bark. He pushes out his ass, serving it up on a silver platter, gazing over his shoulder to catch how Billy’s smiling all wicked and wild.

Billy runs his hand down the exposed bit of Steve’s back, where his crop top and shorts can’t reach, skin warm and soft and slightly damp from the summer heat. He dips a couple of fingers beneath the elastic waistband.

“Dressed a bit like a slut tonight, pretty boy,” he hums pleasantly and pulls at the shorts, just to let go and have it snap back, loudly.

An oddly delighted gasp escapes Steve. “Just for you.”

Billy’s hand had wandered down to caress a soft cheek, going further down to tease the skin just beneath the leg of the shorts.

“You really that needy and desperate for my attention?” His lips part in a grin, exposing sharp teeth that he licks across; a little predatory show that Steve absolutely notices.

“That’s not all I’m desperate for.”

Steve stretches out his arms proper and pushes himself against where Billy’s cock is rock hard, eliciting a groan followed by two hands grabbing all too hard onto Steve’s hips.

With his grasp bruising, Billy keeps Steve still as he ruts himself against the plush of Steve’s ass, both of them moaning as he slips and slides his full erection in the crevice between cheeks.

“Ah- Billy- please please please, I need more,” Steve whines with his head hanging low.

Billy chuckles, like rolling thunder in his chest, as he leans forward to bury his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, one hand slipping around and down to cup at Steve’s aching prick. He strokes it through the shorts, following the entire length up and down, Steve whimpering and panting and thrusting for more, as a wet spot forms by the head.

“God, you’re so wet and hard for me, baby,” Billy drawls, biting, kissing, sucking his way up Steve’s neck, marking him with his attention; make everyone know.

Thumbs hook themselves on the waistband to pull down the shorts just past the curve of supple cheeks, keeping his weeping dick trapped still.

“No underwear?” He brings his tongue to lick a sloppy line up Steve’s neck, nosing at the back of his ear, then breathes out hot, “Such a whore.”

Steve inhales as if to speak, to respond, but unadulterated lust occupies his mind like a thick fog, and all that comes out is a slight, erotic, “Fuck.”

And Billy brings his hand up to those pretty pink lips, pushing his way in without invitation, just to feel Steve’s tongue eagerly wrap itself around the two digits, letting Billy roam free in the wet heat till his fingers are dripping, spit running down his palm and wrist. Steve’s always so sloppy and obscene and greedy, which is what Billy loves about him.

He brings those slick fingers between them, down to circle around Steve’s rim, teasing with the tip applying just enough pressure for it to be agonizingly inadequate, making Steve whimper as he tries to move his hips in hopes of more.

Billy’s not a bad guy per se, at least not towards Steve anymore, so he gives his princess what he’s begging for and slips in a finger, smooth and easy, as deep as it goes, and he can feel how Steve trembles with delight. Relentlessly so, Billy pulls the finger almost all the way out, before plunging it back in again - setting a quick pace, but Steve’s hungry.

“Ah-h, more, Billy,” he moans with his head thrown back, mouth wide open to allow out every single lascivious little sound he has in him.

“Ssshh,” Billy hushes where he’s quick to lean in to whisper in Steve’s ear, “Be quiet and I’ll give you what you want. Can’t have people hear you and come looking for us.”

“What’s the matter, hmm? Ah- afraid of getting caught with your pants down?” Steve laughs but in a low manner, ultimately proving he’s following orders.

And truth be told yes, Billy is afraid to get caught like this with another guy, but that just makes this all the more thrilling. So without words and choosing actions instead, he with his one free hand covers Steve’s wide open mouth before pushing a second finger into his soft hole.

Thankfully so, for the way Steve moans in utter glee vibrates against the palm of Billy’s hand.

“God you need it so bad, huh princess? Need my cock in you?” his voice thick with wanton and self-restraint.

Steve mumbles out in agreement.

It doesn’t take long before he adds a third finger, and there’s an immediate ecstatic response from Steve, who suddenly can’t help himself as he reaches behind to grab Billy by the wrist and tries to push him in deeper.

“Such an impatient little slut tonight,” Billy barks out in laughter and curls his fingers. He can feel every single muscle twitch and tremble at it, and the way Steve keens makes his own hard prick throb with desire.

“Mmh, ah- please, Billy, fuck me,” Steve tears his mouth free from Billy’s grasp, lips wet with drool.

“Lucky for you I brought lube and a condom with your name on it,” Billy snickers as he reaches into his own back pocket for the small packs, when Steve complains,

“N-no, no condom, please,” he pleads all pathetic, twisting around till their eyes meet through the darkness. “I want to feel you inside of me, nothing between us.”

Billy doesn’t have to think twice about that. The condom was a nice courtesy on his behalf, so that Steve wouldn't have to walk around with cum dripping down his thighs, but if he wants it so bad…

With one hand he undoes the drawstrings of his shorts, with the other he holds the little silver pack of lube up to his teeth as he tears it open. The liquid is warm from the summer heat as he pours it on his steely cock, moaning as he strokes himself a few good times to cover up properly before lining up with Steve’s eager entrance.

“Yes, ohh,” spills from Steve’s open lips as Billy enters him; the fat, blunt head stretching him out nice and wide.

And Billy keeps pushing in, inch by inch till they’re flush together, Steve sandwiched between Billy’s broad frame and the tree where his nails dig into the bark.

“You got such a nice, tight ass, pretty boy. So perfect for my cock,” Billy growls into Steve’s ear, teeth scraping against the shell of it as he stands as close as he can get.

Steve doesn’t have command of his own words at this moment, he can barely even hum out in agreeance as he’s overcome with blinding lust.

Slowly at first Billy pulls out before sliding in in one smooth movement, out again and in as he carefully increases the pace to the rhythm of Steve’s moans. He’s starting to learn the pattern of the sounds Steve makes when he’s getting thoroughly fucked. A certain whine when he needs more, harder, faster. A deep, guttural groan when it’s all just perfect. A string of high pitched curses whenever Billy rams into his prostate.

And the way Steve clenches tighter than any pussy Billy’s ever had whenever he’s close is almost gorgeous in a sense. With his eyes closed and forehead pressed against Steve’s shoulder, Billy thrusts into that indescribable heat, feeling how every muscle needs his cock, milking and massaging him, urging him deeper and deeper.

“Arrh fuck, feel so good.” He grabs on to Steve’s hips with both hands, pounding into him with ardent fervor, leaving poor Steve with the responsibility of covering up his own mouth.

Blame it on the liquor or Billy’s expert fucking, if he do say so himself, no matter which it has Steve cumming in near record time with an obscene, loud whine as he bites into his hand in an attemp to fight back his impulse to be heard.

It feels like magic, the way Steve’s climaxing body sucks Billy in, every single muscle convulsing around him.

“Yes, god, just like that, oh Steve I’m so close,” he groans out, strong and throaty, slamming in harder to get what he needs now that Steve has gotten his.

He leans back, one hand on Steve’s shoulder, pushing him against the tree as he pounds as hard as he can, staring down at where his girthy cock gets swallowed so eagerly, grinning at the oh so satisfying sound of skin slapping together almost violently so.

“Ahh fuck, Billy,” Steve whines, somewhat euphoric, somewhat sore, all together enjoying being used so easily.

“That’s right, bitch, say my name.”

“Billy!”

“Yes.”

“Billy-”

“Shit, yes, arh--”

He cums with what feels like an explosion of ecstasy in his groin, radiating out and up his spine to flourish in his chest as he fills Steve up with every last bit of energy that he has in him; a pulsating, slick heat that he buries himself in to the base of his throbbing cock.

But he doesn’t linger. As soon as they’ve both caught their breath he pulls out, well satisfied with his work as he slaps Steve’s ass lightly with his tongue out between teeth, chuckling at the little yelp that comes with it.

“Jesus, Harrington, that was fucking good,” he says as he puts himself away again in his swimming trunks.

Truth be told he wants to stay. Hell, he even wants to cuddle a bit, but it’s too soon to tell if Steve wants the same. No matter the answer, Billy isn’t sure he wants to know. Instead of thinking too long about what could be, he fishes up a cigarette and lights it quickly so that the smoke may fill the emptiness inside.

Steve’s a whole mess still. Basking in the afterglow, slow to pull up his shorts and turn around, just to steal the cigarette from between Billy’s lips and taking a drag himself.

“Really good, yeah,” he breathes out in sweet relief, then dares to ask, “What now?”

Like it’s a fucking invitation for more. To open up. To tell the truth. Every possibility flies through Billy’s mind all at once, but he plays it safe,

“I could use a drink.”

#Harringrove #lemon #Also on AO3 #my writing

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sunflowersteves · 3 years

Text

bloody & bruised || a night for galas

mob!bucky barnes x boxer!reader

𝒄𝒉. 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 : Bucky had finally asked you to attend an event regarding his mob life, but nothing is as joyous as everything seems.

author’s note : it’s been while since i posted for this series and i suddenly had some inspiration. i hope you all enjoy. **not my photo

warnings : fluff, kidnapping, rich snobs, smut!!, public sex, teasing, afab!fic, [18+ only], minors do not interact

previous ch. // series m.list // m.list

Bucky Barnes was not a man to be trifled with.

Bucky Barnes was a hard-headed upright murderer that held an entire underground criminal system. The NYPD and the FBI had been trying to capture him for years on end, investigation after investigation to always end up falling short.

He was dangerous, cynical, and deadly.

He was a man that would send people running in the opposite direction of him. He was a man that controlled the depths of the city with fear; no one dared to trifle with him.

But, James Buchanan Barnes was also a man in love. He was totally and utterly smitten. He would give you tender kisses in the morning and trace patterns on your back as you slept. Steve liked to tease the hell out of him for being able to snatch someone as astonishing as you. He didn’t want to admit it, but Steve was right.

You had come into his life so fast, and the sweet breath of fresh air you were had surprised him. You were stubborn and took no shit from anyone—even the mobster himself. You were kind and soft. Your laughter was the purest sound he had ever heard. But you were also tough; your fists bloodied and bruised more times than he could count.

Before you came along, Bucky placed himself deep within his work. He never really had time for anything, so he normally only had one-night stands. The transaction of a quick fuck and then leaving was the best option. There were no strings attached, no grievances, no troubles, just a quick exchange.

But you, you were so much more. You were absolutely everything. You were the summer breeze that floated through his hair. You were fresh berries that tasted pungent yet sweet as they burst in his mouth.

You were it for him. His partner that would rest by his side no matter what, if that’s what you wanted anyway. And a part of him hated it. He wanted to push you away, so you would not be exposed to the dangerous life that he lived. But you were worth it. You were worth the risk, always.

And you had been absolutely stunned by the man. You were an unstoppable force that had your opponents beaten down so easily. You were strong-willed and passionate about the world around you.

So, to find yourself slowly falling for a man who has most likely done unspeakable things came as a surprise. But, he wasn’t the scary person that everyone deemed him to be, at least not to you. He was sweet, charming, and amazing in bed—too amazing in bed.

What you found interesting, though, is that ever since that night after your match, Bucky hadn’t left your side. For eight months, he’s been high alert. As though at any minute or any second, something would jump out at the two of you. He was always looking back when you’re walking around at night. He would always insist on two bodyguards at your side constantly, even when you were in the boxing ring.

He knew you were capable. He always tried to reassure you. However, you knew that something was suspicious. He never told you what had tormented him so badly, but he would always refuse when you would ask him what was wrong.

You had always thought he was just embarrassed by you. You were a girl from the Bronx who knew how to fight, and it always had been an antithesis in your relationships. However, Bucky had always shut your insecurities down and made it up to you in the best way possible.

You let out a small yawn, “what time is it?”

He smiles slightly at your gruff morning voice before turning to look at the clock. “It’s almost noon.”

You just hummed and snuggled into his chest even further. He traced small circular patterns up and down your spine, his mind drifting off to think about work. He didn’t want to leave your warm embrace, his heart dreading the idea of leaving the silky sheets and your cold feet resting on his calves.

“Doll?”

Your eyes flicker up to his before reaching up to give him a sweet yet somber kiss. His arms tightened around you for just a second before a finger rested on your cheek, wiping gently from side to side.

“Yes?” You mumbled against his lips.

“Will you accompany me to the gala tonight?”

Your eyes shot up at his question, completely catching you off guard. During your relationship, he never asked you to attend anything that regarded work. He had always said it was too dangerous, even for an infamous boxer. He always said that he just wanted to keep you safe, but still, you knew there was something else at play.

Your eyes lit up in excitement, “really?”

He nodded, lips curling up into a smile. “Yes, really.” You giggled against his skin and relished in the warmth of it all. “Nothing would make me happier.”

“But Steve and Sam will be there the whole time and—” You groaned, interrupting his sentence as he just gave you a knowing look. You shift your arm and rest it on his cheek, his eye fluttering closed and leaning into your touch.

“What’s going on, baby?”

He let out a large sigh and opened his eyes to lock with yours. He knew he couldn’t lie to you, not anymore. You looked at him with puffy cheeks and fluttering eyelashes, knowing that he was done for.

“Remember that night I took you to my place, and we danced to jazz?” You grin up at him at the memory, your mind becoming fuzzy with adoration from that very long night. “I remember that night very well, love.”

Your smile flattened slightly as you caught the look on his face. His eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes clouded with something you couldn’t quite figure out. Worry? Fear? “I got texts that night threatening you.”

Your eyes widened at the profession he gave, not expecting it in the slightest. “From who?” He shakes his head. He shifts in the bed slightly, moving his face, so it practically ghosts yours.

“I don’t know. That’s why I’ve had guards around you this whole time. I’m sorry.”

Your lips curl into a smile, giving him a small peck to tell him you accept his apology. “They’ll have to get through my fists first.”

He chuckled. “Damn right, doll.”

You walked in with Bucky’s arms locked with yours, the stoic nature of the man you were with proceeded to lock onto his face. As you entered the crowd, they had immediately disappeared. They were almost afraid to touch you in fear of Bucky. A little proud smirk rested on your face at the thought of being untouchable. It felt enlightening—it felt addicting.

The room was crowded with what looked like some of the most elite people you had seen in New York. The ballroom was large; white and gold splashed against the towering columns and swirled together. The chandeliers gleamed the brightest and sparkled throughout the room, creating little stars across the ground. Famous paintings were scattered across the walls, pairing nicely with the poised elegant furniture.

They wore lavish suits and dresses; your attire and Bucky's were matched perfectly. While in the car, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He had you pressed up the limo door and devoured your neck, nipping and biting at the sensitive flesh. You just giggled and tried to shove him off of you, you took way too long to get ready, and he wasn’t going to ruin your hair. “Sorry, doll. Jus’ can’t help myself.” And that cocky grin made you want to kiss him even more.

You took a champagne glass off of a tray and took a sip. Bucky was currently talking to one of his donors, and you were beyond bored. All it was, was a bunch of rich snobs gathered in one room. You knew Bucky hated it as well; he knew how they really thought of him. They always thought that he and his men were just a bunch of criminals that took over the city. But they never mentioned how much he helped people too.

“So, dear, what do you think? Why should we give to the homeless when it’s their fault they’re there in the first place?”

Your hand immediately tightened around Bucky’s arm. You look over at the old man and the urge to plummet him into the next century was suddenly very tempting. You then purse your lips, your voice loud and boisterous. “People need help, whether it’s their fault or not. If you think otherwise, then you’re a piece of shit person. Simple as that.” The old man and his wife gasped. “Plus, most of the time, it isn’t their fault.”

“Tame your woman, Mr. Barnes.”

Your eyes flicker over towards Bucky to find his eyes already locked onto you. His eyes were full of lust, and his once sparkling eyes were dark and swirling as though an ocean would. He smirks quickly, “Couldn’t even if I tried.” Swirling butterflies burst against your chest; he looked proud. He looked like he could devour you right then and there, but the pride radiated off of him.

Before you know it, you find yourself backed up against a wall that’s far away from the crowd, and no one would bother you. Sam had shaken his head when he finally found the two of you, and Steve just sighed before saying he needed a drink.

Bucky’s lips found yours in a heated dance, his mouth swallowing each and every sound you make. His hands gripped your hips tightly. The gruff sounds leaving his throat were heavenly to your ears. “I need you, Bucky. Please,” he didn’t waste a single moment as he shoved your dress up to your hips.

He let out a string of curses as he noticed you weren’t wearing any underwear. “Fuckin’ killing me, doll.” His lips meet yours again, his hand reaching down to feel your slick between his fingers. You were absolutely drenched, and he moaned, the sound vibrating against your lips.

“Barely even touched you, and you’re already this wet? Fuck, baby girl.” You reach down to feel his hard cock in the confined restraints of his pants suit. He was big. Your hand then rubbed the outline of his member, and you felt him twitch in your hand.

“God, your cock is so big, Buck.” He pants, eyes closing at the sensation of your fingers dipping into his trousers. “I wanna put my mouth on it, swirl my tongue ‘round those good spots.”

His hands jerked forward and pinned you against the wall, lifting you up becoming flushed against him. “Think you can tease me, hmm? Hasn’t anyone told you not to mess with the big, bad mobster?” You open your mouth to respond but are quickly cut off by him pounding into you. His muscular arm still hung above you, keeping you in just the right place. You were warm and soft; Bucky couldn't get enough. The two of you groaned with each thrust as he filled you fuller than ever.

“So tight,” he mutters into your ear. You bite your lip to keep you from screaming, his cock twisting and pulling every heavenly sensation. “You’re mine, yeah? You’re fucking mine.” The way he growled, the feral sound leaving his lips was intoxicating.

“Say it. Say you’re mine.” His tone was firm and feral. Your mind could barely process what he was saying. His other hand grabs your jaw to make you look at him, “I’m yours! I’ll always be yours.”

He pounded even harder into you, the smacking sounds of your body meeting his hips were loud. Your hands clutch his shoulders, your lips repeating his name over and over. “Fuck, Bucky!” He coaxed that spongy spot over and over, his eyes trailing down to watch his cock disappear into your lips. Your walls clench around him. “That’s it, doll. Take my cock.”

His words alone make you tip over the edge, your body seizing before releasing all of its pleasure. You don’t even care at this point, your screams escaping your mouth as he continues to pound into you. He goes to pull out of you to come, but you stop him. “No. Come in me, please. Wanna feel you for days.”

The way you sound, so desperate and pleading for him to come, to fill you full. He groans a low sound, his teeth coming down to bite your shoulder. He empties inside you there, coaxing your sweet walls with him. A small content sigh leaves you as you feel some of his cum drip out of your lips.

You both clean up as best as you can. You were trying to fix your hair while Bucky was trying to get the pre-cum out of his pants. You looked almost as good as new besides the post-sex glow radiating off of the two of you.

He kisses you, this one sweet and savory like you would vanish if he hadn’t put his lips on yours. You grin, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him in a bit more.

“C’mon. Let’s go back and greet more assh—” Darkness surrounded the whole ballroom as shrieks filled the air. His head whipped around as he tried to make his way through the crowd. “What’s going on?” Bucky shook his head at you, even though you couldn’t see a single thing. He didn’t know what was going on, but he didn’t like it.

“Baby, follow me, okay?” He’s holding your hand as he finally finds Sam and Steve. Steve had told them that the whole grid is out, affecting most of Brooklyn. But something didn’t feel right.

“Something feels off.” Sam agreed, prompting a suggestion to try and fix the power. Something rippled throughout his body and left a pang right in his chest.

“What’s going on?!” Steve tries to calm Bucky down. They knew something wasn’t right, something felt suspicious. They didn’t know what or how, but it was. Bucky could practically feel it in the air.

With a sigh of relief, the lights flickered back on. The sweet, soft music started playing again and everyone started to mingle. Bucky felt his shoulders relax as he turned towards you. But then he halted. You weren’t next to him. But you were just there, weren’t you? He had just been tugging you on the arm. He knew you were right there.

“Doll?” He whipped around, Steve and Sam trying to find you as well. They walked through the whole crowd yelling to make some room. Bucky checks everywhere; the supply closets, the kitchen, and the entire crowd. You were nowhere to be found. You were just… gone.

Bloody and Bruised: @xoasalxo @raven-rust @widowbite-legit @purselover2 @met4no1a @t3a-bag @stuckysavedmylive @gudenuph

Permanent: @captainchrisstan @angstysebfan @teenagereadersciencenerd @rebekahdawkins @hailmary-yramliah @stardust-galaxies @wiccanmetallicrose @keithseabrook27 @hereforthesunrise @lxdyred @ironbabey

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amerrierworld · 3 years

Text

Babysitter (pt 10)

Pt 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

Summary: You and Tony have a discussion as Hela and Loki sneak around.

Characters: Hela x fem!reader, Loki, Tony, Steve, Rhodey

Word Count: 1,813

Warnings: nothing? feels!

The New Avengers Facility was by far the most luxurious hideout you'd ever encountered. It was also incredibly large and perfect for aimless exploring.

The Avengers, though concerned for you once you arrived, quickly lost focus of you as they began flitting about their machines and computers to see what the hell was happening around the world.

You were given your own room, fully furnished with a well-stocked mini fridge. There was a camera situated outside by the door, so they’d know if you went in or out.

Normally you would’ve protested the house arrest, but you couldn’t be bothered suddenly. You were numb.

The Facility was massive. It varied from small cozy lounge areas to large open spaces for training, meetings, and all sorts of experimental engineering.

You were curled up in one of the tinier corners on a brown leather sofa. The rest of the place just seemed so pristine and neat and horrifically modern, no offense to Tony’s design tastes. There was a digital fireplace and heater, yet the 3D projection of the actual fire made it seem real. Only thing missing was the smell of burning wood.

“Thought you’d have run off by now,” grunted a voice behind you. Tony had come into the lounge. You kept looking at the fire.

“I have no where else to go, Tony,” you said bluntly. Over the past few days you’d been reading up more and more from the news, contacting people you hadn’t talked to in ages. There were a few distant friends and relatives who’d been taken by the Blip, and your heart ached at the ones you hadn’t been able to see one last time.

“Besides,” you sighed, breaking your gaze from the fire as Tony came to sit across from you, “none of you would have let me leave even if I really tried.”

He leaned back, stretching his body nonchalantly, and you noticed how weary and thin he actually looked. Dark circles under his eyes, and his fingers seemed to be twitching or twiddling consistently.

“What happened to you?” you muttered. “Why do you look like shit?”

“Oh, you know,” he said, waving his hand, “spent some merry time in space, that’s all. Wasn't planning on being stranded there, but here we are.”

You didn’t ask anything else. Instead you got up, walked to the near sink and pulled out a kettle from the cupboards to make yourself some tea.

“Okay, let me ask you a question,” Tony said in the silence, twisting in his seat to watch you, resting his head on the back of the sofa. “How on earth did you end up falling head over heels for a psycho?”

You snorted, grabbing a teabag and a mug, “you could ask Pepper the same thing.”

Tony clutched his chest in mock offence, “Ouch. Cold-hearted.”

Grinning, you steeped your tea, and turned around to look at Tony, “it’s not that simple, Stark.”

“No, I think it is,” he said.

“Well fine,” you sighed, slightly exasperated, “she was in my house with me alone, for days. At some point we ended up talking and actually getting to know each other. She opened up to me, and I to her and.. that was it.”

“And how do you know she wasn’t lying to get a way out?”

“She wasn’t. She’d never.”

“But how do you know? Wasn’t it you who always thought you had to give things time? She’s lived for thousands of years, Y/N. You’re a fruit-fly compared to her.”

“Why has this turned into an interrogation?” you snapped. He held up his hands,

“I’m not interrogating. Just trying to understand.”

“Why did Jane fall in love with Thor, huh? At the time he was a ridiculous, self-absorbed and mindless God who didn’t know how the hell this world worked. Why did Pepper fall in love with you? A narcissistic millionaire playboy who loves to play games and doesn’t take anything seriously?”

You paced the floor as your tea cooled down, fuming,

“Why the hell does anyone fall in love with anyone, huh? Who gets a fucking say in how they feel? And why do you guys have so little faith in me to trust what I feel? I’ve kept secrets for you, I’ve hidden you in my home, I’ve been a part of so much secrecy, and suddenly when I get a little heart-eyed at someone, you act as if I’ve been brainwashed.”

Tony didn’t say anything for a moment. When you met his eyes, they were a little wider than before, looking at you questioningly.

“In love, huh?”

You blinked.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Uh-huh, you did.”

“N-no, I didn’t, I said I-”

Your face became red, fumbling over your words.

Tony got up from his seat and clapped his hands as he sauntered over to the exit.

“Let’s go sparring, hm? Haven’t done that in a while,” he offered. You tried to cool your cheeks, forgetting about your tea steeping behind you.

“That’s cause I always lose,” you retorted. “You guys work out like your life depends on it. Which... it does.. I guess.”

“Yeah, but look at the state of me,” Tony spread out his arms and did a spin. “I’m feeling like trash. You’ll take me down no problem.”

You doubted that, but followed him anyways.

“Ah, fuck!” Hela swore as another branch tugged at her helmet.

“Will you shut up?” Loki hissed, crouching down and peeking through the trees. “God, you’re even more infuriating than Thor!”

Hela was breathing heavily, aching, grumpy.

“You really are a pain when you’re not around Y/N, aren’t you? You’re not going to massacre all the Avengers just because you’re peeved, right?”

“Be silent, filth,” she spat. Her brother only rolled his eyes. “What do you see?”

“I thought you wanted me to be silent.”

Hela whacked the back of his head and he grimaced,

“Alright, alright. Look yourself, it’ll be hard to get in undetected.”

Hela peered over his shoulder. He was right; there wasn’t a lot of hiding spaces or shadows. Well-lit with open spaces, the modern-style building looked quite distasteful to Hela. She pulled a face, both in annoyance and disgust,

Loki chuckled, “I’m glad you hate it too.”

“Shut up,” Hela hissed, before scurrying off further into the trees to explore the perimeter.

“Where are you- Hela!” Loki whispered hoarsely, hurrying after her.

She was looking for weak spots, places with no cameras, a spot to sneak in. But she also had no idea where you were, and with the vastness of the buildings she worried if she’d even find you on time.

“Hela,” Loki hissed. She shushed him again, eyes searching the upper floors.

“Hela!”

“What?”

“Look,” Loki pointed downwards. A little further in the distance outside, surrounded by well lit lights, stood you and that iron-armoured man, both with wooden sticks in your hands, the length of a short blade, thick enough to wrap your whole hand around it.

“Come on, let’s go back, before they see us,” Loki hissed, grabbing Hela’s shoulder. “At least we know she’s here.”

But Hela couldn’t move. You were wearing dark grey sweatpants and a zip-up hoodie, and sturdy boots. You looked tired, but were a vision to her. The man with you wasn’t wearing his armour, and suddenly looked a lot less threatening.

Loki watched, amazed, as his sister’s armour shimmered. The horns disappeared from her head and her cape faded until she was only in black, blending into the darkness.

She dared another step closer.

“Widen your stance,” the man said, waving the stick around. “Now try to attack.”

Hela watched you practice, your grip a bit clumsy and your stance a bit wobbly, but you were determined. She recalled the day she pulled a fork on you as a weapon, and winced a bit at the memory of the fearful, defenceless look in your eyes.

“Like that?” she heard you say, bending your knees and lowering your core.

“Good, but stay light on your feet, otherwise you can’t dodge.”

Your voice was like music to her ears, and hot tears prickled at her eyes. She missed you. So much.

“Stark, what the hell are you trying to do?” two more men had appeared. One blonde, and large, wearing a tight shirt and jeans. The other, dark, dressed in similar casual clothes.

“Gentlemen! Welcome to this exclusive defence lesson.”

“You’re by far the worst defence teacher out of all of us, Stark. Y/N won’t learn shit from you.”

“You wound me, Captain.”

Hela watched you shake hands with the other.

“Oh, Y/N, this is our friend Rhodey, also known as the War Machine.”

“Pleased to meet you, despite the.. unideal circumstances,” the newcomer shook your hand respectfully and flashed a smile. Hela flared with jealousy, and subconsciously bared her teeth.

“Easy,” Loki whispered.

The four of you paired up, you against Tony, but watching Captain’s instructions as he sparred with Rhodey.

You were not held under lock and key, and Hela worried a moment. Did you go willingly with them after all? Did you forget about her? Was it foolish to even attempt a rescue?

Your laugh rang into the night as Rhodey tackled a distracted Steve, and both dread and joy filled Hela’s heart.

“Okay, try again,” Tony encouraged you. You swung at him a few times as he blocked and dodged.

Then, you saw her in the darkness. A flash of green eyes, and Tony took your distraction to his advantage, swiping your leg from under you and you fell to the ground with a thud.

Hela nearly shot out of the tree line to protect you if Loki hadn’t stopped her. Then she heard a groan and chuckle coming from you,

“I told you I’d lose.”

“Don’t get distracted then, kiddo.” Tony held out his hand and hoisted you up. Hela growled at the camaraderie and slunk back in the shadows. “What were you looking at?”

He began to turn to follow your eyeline, and you paled,

“N-nothing! I- I was daydreaming.” He looked back at you.

“Not a good idea to daydream while fighting, Y/N,” Steve said.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’m not used to this, you know?”

“It’s about time you were taught,” Tony clapped your shoulder.

“You want to learn anything from the War Machine himself?” Steve asked, nodding at Rhodey.

“Oh, I-I’d love to. But, maybe tomorrow?” you suggested, desperately trying to avoid looking at Hela in the distance. “I’m quite.. tired.”

The men seemed to agree and chatted as they headed back into the building. Tony swiped at Steve as they walked, who promptly tugged the sparring stick from him.

You hurriedly looked around into the darkness, wanting to see another glimpse, hoping you didn’t imagine it. But when you couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, you worried if you really had gone insane.

Steve called after you, and your heavy feet carried you back inside to settle for the rest of the night.

A/N: Life is fucking INSANE. only a few chapters left for this!! Don’t ask me about the timeline alterations because me trying to make sense of the canon and trying to make it all fit is making my brain explode!! I hope you like it, love you all!!! Stay safeee

tag list: @midnight-lestrange @cheerfullyvenomous @germansarechill @gaylorrds @amii-nyc @waitingfortheendtocome @novakitten0901 @marvels-writings @jadewestwriter @thisisanexistentialcrisis

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sineala · 3 years

Text

A Few Thoughts About Hurt/Comfort

I have been asked this month to make a post about hurt/comfort in Avengers comics. And I love h/c -- I actually have a massive number of WIPs right now that are h/c -- so I am very happy to talk about it! Anyway, this is not really all that planned out and this mostly turned into an excursus on Tony Stark's pain. I'm sure you're all surprised.

Like pretty much everyone else, I'm sure, I have found that everything lately has been... pretty tough. And the coping mechanism that really got me through last year and this year was reading and writing a lot of h/c, on the theory that, however lousy a day I'm having, I can absolutely make sure that Tony Stark has a worse one. And then I can make sure he gets hugs. Wish fulfillment? Why, yes. (Once at Hallmark I was trying to find a "get well soon" card, forgot what it was called, and described it to my wife as "a hurt/comfort card.") I think Marvel Comics -- the Avengers side, in particular -- is an interesting canon for h/c for a lot of reasons. Though, honestly, if you asked me to recommend you, a hurt/comfort fan, a new fandom, I would probably just hand you some Starsky & Hutch DVDs. Go watch "The Fix" and get back to me later. If you like that, there's way more where that came from. But there's still lots to love in Marvel! Superhero comics are really a goldmine as far as the hurt side of h/c. Because superheroes, and you probably have noticed this, get hurt a lot. They get hurt repeatedly, in fantastical ways that are probably impossible in real life both physically and emotionally (at least, I don't think anyone's invented mind control yet), and even the heroes without superhuman healing powers tend to get physically hurt a whole lot worse than actual people can take. Currently in Iron Man comics, Tony has a broken back and is dealing with this by locking himself into the armor as a backboard and injecting himself with massive doses of painkillers. He's busy! He's got stuff to do! He doesn't have time to lie around and heal! So, basically, if you name a kind of pain that you would like to see happen to a character, it's probably happened to superheroes. Multiple times. The downside, though, is that comics do not really deliver that well when it comes to the comfort part of h/c. They could. It's not inherent to the medium that they don't. But because of the serial nature of comics and also the fact the primary audience is dudes who want to read about people in spandex punching each other, a lot of the time they don't really feel the need to provide closure and write about people dealing with any of the hurt. (Raise your hand if you're still annoyed with the end of Hickman's Avengers run.) But at the same time, I think that's a quality that makes Avengers ripe for h/c fanfic. Because, generally speaking, fandom likes to provide the things that canon doesn't, and fandom is more than happy to provide the comfort. If you enjoy canonical h/c in comics, I think you really can't go wrong with Iron Man. One of the big innovations of modern Marvel Comics was the concept that heroes would also suffer from relatable human problems, and in practice what this means is that a lot of heroes start with a fully-loaded angst-ridden backstory and origin story, ripe for h/c. So Tony starts out by incurring a heart injury that he fully expects is going to kill him, which he responds to by vowing he won't get close to anyone so they won't be sad when he dies, and throughout the early Silver Age is constantly on the brink of death as his heart nearly gives out on him practically every issue. And then even after his heart gets (mostly) better, there are various plots involving his armor being detrimental to his health and him choosing to fight on anyway. It's hard for me to think of another superhero hitting that particular variety of h/c in exactly the same way. Sure, superheroes risk their lives constantly, because this is how superhero comics work, but Tony is the only one I can think of who is this constantly this badly off, physically. Like, think of all the other heroes who have had a continual solo presence as fan favorites across Marvel history -- Captain America, Thor, Spider-Man, Wolverine, maybe even Deadpool. You know what those guys all have? Healing factors! For the most part, they are not running around continually on the verge of death, and while there are certainly memorable arcs involving several of them being severely injured and/or dead, you really have to work at it. It's not their constant state of affairs, whereas Tony is the kind of superhero who shows up to a fight already bleeding out under his armor. Yeah, I know Extremis gave him a healing factor. But he didn't have it very long, and also he did some extremely dangerous things while he did have it; I'm pretty sure I've never seen Wolverine saying that he'll just solve a problem by cutting off his own foot. So, anyway, yeah, there are a bunch of good arcs involving h/c for Tony. If you're looking for physical injury, he has a whole bunch of heart problems over the years, gets several new hearts, then ruins his brain, et cetera. That level of hurt is basically the background pain of Tony's life; every so often, his heart will get damaged or he'll have to live in the armor or the armor will be killing him, et cetera. If you're looking for more unusual trauma, I am, as always, going to rec Manhunt, a relatively obscure arc in late v3 (IM v3 #65-69) in which Tony has an extremely bad week. His tech is stolen and used to bomb a building. Then he gets shot in the chest. Then while he's at the hospital a nurse tries and fails to poison him, and she then tries to beat him to death. Then he checks himself out of the hospital and a helicopter shoots missiles at him. Then he becomes a fugitive from justice. And then, oh, yeah, he has to fight the Mandarin. It is... a lot. (Volume 3 of Iron Man is pretty good as far as h/c possibilities. You've got a lot of physical pain, Carol's drinking arc, the Sentient Armor, both DreamVision arcs, and Manhunt. Manhunt is finally supposed to be out in trade this month, by the way.) There are of course the drinking arcs, which probably count as their own type of hurt. But if you haven't read the second drinking arc (IM #160-200), please do. Marvel likes to up the stakes on events (Fear Itself, Secret Empire) by making Tony drink, and it does work, I think. I feel like I've spoken at length about Tony's drinking elsewhere so I don't really want to rehash it all here. And then there's the emotional pain. Angst and drama is something that happens to a whole bunch of characters, yes, especially in comics, but somehow Tony seems to end up with possibly more than his fair share of it. Fandom likes to make a lot of Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, so much so that you might think, if you didn't know canon, that this was just fandom running with a throwaway mention of Tony's terrible childhood and making it worse. But, no, canon really does go there with a reasonable amount of frequency. Howard's actual first appearance is in a flashback where he's ordering teenage Tony to break up with his girlfriend because she's the daughter of one of Howard's business rivals. And then we get into the verbal abuse, and the physical abuse, and the time Howard made Tony take his first drink, and the part where Howard was a demon in hell who Tony fought while he insulted him. And more! Currently, in canon, Howard is alive again and is in league with Mephisto for the express purpose of ruining Tony's life. Also when Tony was a baby, Howard tried to trade him to Dracula. I think you can make an argument that fandom is actually showing restraint when compared to canon. Tony also has a whole lot of Terrible Exes whose presence and/or former presence in Tony's life can be used for a lot of hurt. If you've read any amount of fanfic, you probably know that the exes who get the most play in fandom are Sunset Bain and Tiberius Stone -- not that Tony and Ty were ever canonically a couple, of course, but fandom is definitely enamored of this idea. Ty and Sunset both have relatively similar interactions with Tony in canon, in that they are both liars and emotional abusers, heavy on the gaslighting, with the purpose of becoming more successful than Tony. They both also attempt to murder Tony, although this is after he figures out they're evil, at least. (Yes, I know, this is not how either of them usually appear in AUs.) Tony also has a bunch of exes who also have just straight-up tried to murder or otherwise hurt him, sometimes while they are dating, and sometimes before Tony dates them: Whitney Frost, Indries Moomji, Kathy Dare, and Maya Hansen come to mind. There are probably more I'm not thinking of! But, yes, if you want to write about a guy in a series of terrible relationships, please consider Iron Man comics. If mind control is one of your favorite flavors of hurt, Tony's pretty good for that too. We all know about The Crossing. I suppose when I say "mind control" I mostly mean "armor control" because there are an awful lot of plots where someone else makes Tony's armor do whatever they want it to do and Tony is along for the ride -- Demon in a Bottle, Sentient Armor, and Execute Program are the first things that come to mind. There is also a fairly obscure What If that is What If Iron Man Lost The Armor Wars in which Justin Hammer apparently really wants Tony in a mind control collar to take off all his clothes and lounge around in his underwear. No, really. I think a lot of pain for Tony often revolves around his issues with control, generally -- his alcoholism comes into play here again. The entire aftermath of Civil War is also notable for its propensity to hurt Tony over and over and over. Is he stoically soldiering on through his grief after Steve dies? Hell, no! He cries, like, six separate times. He 100% blames himself for Steve's death. It's great. Everybody loves The Confession and the funeral in Fallen Son, but one of my personal favorites is Avengers/Invaders, in which Tony is confronted with a time-traveling Steve from WWII and in order not to screw up the timeline, he can't tell Steve he knows him. He is clearly not coping well. He shuts himself in a room with a giant wall of pictures of Steve! Also there's a part where he has to try to convince Steve he can trust him and he ends up having to tie Steve to a chair to talk to him, and Steve looks at him and asks, "Who did you kill to get where you are?" and I feel like that is probably one of the worst moments in Tony's life. No wonder he gave himself amnesia. So now we might want to ask, okay, but why is hurting Tony in fanfiction so much fun? I mean, I can tell you why I think it's fun. I can't speak for anyone else. One reason is that he is very emotional and very affected by everything he does. Sometimes you will see people complaining that the heroes of m/m fanfic cry too much and this is not realistic. This is not a problem if you're writing Tony! He can cry as much as you want and it's perfectly in character. I don't think it would be as fun to hurt him if he didn't express so much of his pain. But he does. He also feels guilty, and for me that's a very satisfying character element. If he were well-adjusted and didn't blame himself for so many things, it wouldn't be nearly as fun as watching him blame himself for everyone whose death he thinks he is responsible for, whether or not he is. And then he just keeps going, and it's, y'know, nice to watch him be resilient, too. So, I guess, I think hurting him is interesting because it's easy to hurt him, his weak points are pretty obvious, and he reacts a lot. Steve doesn't hurt quite as much as Tony does, in canon. It's certainly possible to hurt him -- I mean, they did actually kill him after Civil War, after all -- but I don't think the canonical patterns of hurting him are as numerous. Obviously deseruming Steve is a fairly popular go-to in terms of physical hurt; he's been deserumed at least three times that I know of. I think's easy to see the appeal there of taking a character who is fairly physically resilient and making him... much less so. Certainly Marvel seems to see the appeal. But other than that I don't think he has any other really common way to get physically injured. Unlike Tony, whose origin story is basically "oh no, I've acquired a disability," Steve's origin story is "I drank a serum that cured all my disabilities." Which, I mean, great wish fulfillment but there's not really as much there to poke at. Pretty much all of Steve's pain is emotional, but, unlike Tony, his pain isn't often specifically in response to someone directly, purposefully hurting him. Hickman's Avengers run is a big exception, yes. His pain seems to come up most often as a kind of situational angst. He feels like a man out of time. He feels out of touch with the modern era, with people his own age. He feels guilt because he feels responsible for Bucky's death. He feels like he can't trust the government and therefore he can't be Captain America. He worries that he doesn't know how to have a normal life. And, yes, these are deep and important worries but it's different than, like, Indries Moomji dumping Tony with the intent to make him sad enough to start drinking. Very few of Steve's villains want to personally ruin Steve's entire life the way Tony's villains do; mostly they just want to do things like bring back the Nazis. In terms of Steve's potential for h/c, I think Steve is harder to hurt than Tony is. Physically, he is definitely harder to hurt. You can deserum him, sure, but unless you want everything you write to be a deseruming fic you're probably not going to want to do that more than a couple of times. And if you want to hurt him physically while he has the serum, you have to hurt him hard. Usually past the point where a regular human would ever survive it. He's also harder to break, emotionally, than Tony is -- which means it's very satisfying when you can get him to break, but this is a guy who's only cried twice (that I remember) in canon. So if you want to get him to cry, you really, really have to wreck him, and he doesn't have as many obvious weak spots. He also doesn't generally sit around blaming himself for things that aren't his fault, and the whole "stewing in guilt" genre of plots for him basically came down to "he was sad that he thought Bucky's death was his fault," and that's really the biggest regret he seems to have, and also Bucky's not dead anymore. The Steve/Tony relationship itself, I would think, is also appealing to h/c fans because canon provides a lot of ways for them to hurt each other. Some people only ship pairings who would never, y'know, take turns beating each other half to death in major event comics. (And for a lot of Marvel Comics history, that was also Steve & Tony, so if you want them to be BFFs who have never fought, you can just set your fic earlier.) They have definitely hurt each other both physically and emotionally, so if you're looking for something easy and satisfying as a h/c fan, you can just read or write something where they... make up. What about Marvel characters other than Steve and Tony? Surely some of them are angsty, yes? Well, yes, but also it depends on the particular flavor of angst that you like. If you like the way Tony hurts, you may very well enjoy Doctor Strange comics, because they have a very similar attitude towards life -- they are both former alcoholics whose origin stories involve physical disabilities, who routinely make tactical decisions that negatively affect their continued existence and/or happiness a whole lot. It's very much an "I must suffer alone in the dark and no one will ever know what I am doing to save the world but it's the right thing to do" sort of vibe. Like, you can read comics where Strange is lying in hell with two broken legs, hallucinating that Clea has finally come to save him. Strange's biggest fear, akin to Tony's control issues, is basically that one day he's going to be an asshole again, so he's out there trying as hard as he can to do good. Also, if you like tentacles, he has all of them. I mean that. Carol also occasionally hits similar angst spots, and her drinking arc is great. A lot of people like Natasha, too; I have read zero Black Widow comics but I get the impression many people enjoy her brand of angst. The mutant metaphor is a little different in terms of overall vibe, but some people really like it as a source of angst -- the whole "protecting a world who hates and fears them" thing. It may not work for you, but if you like your hurt to include things like systemic oppression, go pick up some X-Men comics. Start with something like God Loves Man Kills. I feel like I liked this sort of thing a lot more as a teenager but that I kind of aged out of liking the mutants quite so much. It's also worth mentioning that not everything that hits the spot in one universe will be the same in the others, and I'm mentioning this because I feel like I have to say something about MCU Bucky. MCU fandom seems to get a lot of mileage out of Bucky's guilt about being the Winter Soldier, everything he was forced to do, et cetera. I have definitely read my share of those fics, and FATWS sure went right for that angst too. But as far as I can tell, he doesn't hit the same way at all in 616. And I like him a lot in 616; I'm always pleased when he shows up on a team. (He was so good in Strikeforce. Everyone was so good in Strikeforce.) But the thing is, 616 Bucky is, basically, phenomenally well-adjusted, given everything he's gone through, and I'm including the time he wrestled a bear in a gulag. He gets over having been the Winter Soldier, and now he's just, y'know, a guy with a cool arm who likes to bring guns to every fight to horrify his teammates, and he snarks at Clint. If you're looking for that angst, that is really not him these days. He's all better. So pretty much all that is canon. So what do we do in fandom for h/c? Well, as far as I can tell, a decent amount of it is canon-based or very canon-close -- there are a whole lot of stories exploring the angst of Civil War or Hickman's Avengers run. Tony's drinking comes up a fair amount, and if one of Tony's Evil Exes comes back to haunt him, it's pretty much only Tiberius Stone. I don't think I've read a lot of fic with Steve getting deserumed; it doesn't seem as popular in fandom as in canon. When Steve gets hurt, he tends to just get physically whumped pretty hard, and there's a fair amount of that for Tony too, but of course Steve can take more. There's also a thriving, uh, subgenre of pain involving Hydra Steve doing terrible things to Tony, presumably the terrible things he would have wanted to do to Tony in canon if Tony had had a flesh body. There's the usual kinds of h/c setups that appear in basically every fandom as well -- sickfic, whump, dub-con/non-con. You get the idea. But since fandom in general likes to take specific inspiration from canon, there's a lot of fic where the hurt tends to resemble things that happen more in canon. Like, I feel like comics fic probably has more tentacle fic and more mind control than canons that don't come pre-stocked with those. Probably everybody has a whole lot of "tied up by bad guys," though. And then, of course, fandom brings the comfort that canon does not. This is true in pretty much every fandom -- I mean, you aren't going to find a lot of actual canons where Character A saves Character B from mortal peril and then there's gay sex -- but, like I was saying, comics don't provide a lot of closure before it's onto the next thing. Usually with a different creative team, who has no interest in wrapping up anything from the last team. Steve and Tony talked about the incursions exactly once after Secret Wars and nobody mentioned the part where Steve spent several months trying to hunt Tony down and kill him. Tony is never going to remember the events of Civil War. Hydra Steve died ignominiously in a fire and no one has ever talked about him again. Honestly, if you're looking for a way to get some comfort in your fanfic, picking an event, any event, and just having the characters talk about it will be way more than any of them get in canon. I feel like honestly that can often be a pretty satisfying to read. And even though comics canon physically hurts characters pretty often and pretty badly, they also often skip right past the recovery. Maybe you'll get one page of a character in a hospital bed at the end of the story arc. Maybe you won't. Demon in a Bottle has one splash page of Tony going through alcohol withdrawal and then he's all better. I think Manhunt skips to Tony getting out of the hospital at the end. That's just not a story that they want to tell very often. The second drinking arc is notable in that it devotes almost as many issues to Tony's recovery as it does to getting him to rock-bottom. Similarly, Steve is done with his Nomad angst way way faster than you probably think he is (though The Captain does go in for a fair number of issues). So one of the things we often want to do in fandom is focus on all the bits that canon skips over, both in the "why did no one ever mention this story arc ever again" way and the "wow, so how long are they in the hospital after that" way. That's really all I can think of about h/c! I'm off to write some more of it!

#posts i actually wrote

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itsthemysteryofthedroods · 3 years

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Halligan and Lowry may have some sort of a rivalry going on, but think about this: Steve doesn't change his pose to a normal, "human" one when Brent enters his office, which means he's perfectly comfortable with Brent watching him floating above the chair. Brent doesn't comment on it either. I feel there's something more to their relationship than it seems. 🤔

I enjoy the idea that Steve is something more than human, and that he needs to keep up an act. Honestly, looking at him, he very well could be. I suppose it's just a bit of potential-druid/mythical-creature/deity + ND/Druid solidarity thing going on here. I guess there isn't much point in hiding how out-of-the-norm you are when the other person also is that way, but the fact that Steve doesn't wish to uphold that facade with Brent, despite being an individual who normally seems to wish to uphold all kinds of social norms -based on his demeanor and supposed "disdain" for Brent-, it could be said that there's something profoundly personal about their supposedly impersonal rivalry. I think he likes his audacity, and refuses to allow Brent to see anything other than his "truer" facade self. I suppose that maybe after pretending to be his "ideal" persona like that for so long, he perhaps finds the idea of Brent's more "unnaceptable" imperfection to be kind of irresistible, and can't help but let his guard down a bit with him in an unspoken way that Brent wouldn't really point out because he's Brent? Brent is quite daring in how he speaks to Steve, after all, but he doesn't comment on this at all.

Not only that but once again the floating itself. The fact that it was the later update really does raise eyebrows.

Sorry to bring up this picture again, but look at him. I mean really look. Does this look normal either to you? Based on test-runs I did myself, no, probably not. He looks like a dead shrimp with that pose. Perhaps this version really was the error, and the later one the correction. Lowry here looks like he's about to slip right off his chair and fall on his ass. But the later one? Truly more confident, and his hands do not phase through his knees...I think. He's revealing himself a bit more to his tense rival, and he knows it.

I feel like their rivalry is actually a lot more tension than fighting and they don't admit it. Does Brent have something towards Steve? Maybe, it could also be one-sided, but either way this pair does make you question the heterosexuality orientation of more than one party, which is really saying something when one is wearing purple and gayly floating above a chair. Note that funnily enough, despite their banter, Steve never once calls Brent anything other than Halligan, while Brent actually does call him Steve twice in the game, yes, I checked, I'm completely certain. Enjoy that nugget of information.

They get into really heated arguments. But it is pretty peculiar that for all his threats, Steve is surprisingly lenient towards Brent. Although there are definetely lines where he sounds like he wishes to reach out of his throat and puil a very Brent move on him (by sustained choking), he never lays a single hand on him, in a bizarre act of respect and, something repressed perhaps? It makes sense that he wouldn't want trouble. But a little bit of violence, or even a grab by the collar would be acceptable in the department, presumably. Steve never stops just playing with his thumbs, almost nervously, the entire time. Does he entertain himself like this when he's angry, or is this actually something that happens when he sees Brent? We cannot know, because our only point of reference is Brent himself, and what he sees, so this question is most intriguing. Does he perhaps know that if he were to reach out and touch Brent for even a moment, he wouldn't be able to help himself? Can you blame Steve? Of course not; there's a reason one of my first MOTD posts ever was Halligan's eyelashes-

Whether or not that's an agreement or something Steve himself has decided, there seems to be a mutual understanding that they're not meant to go too far, or even touch each other. Even when there's venom in their voices, it's very clear that at all times at least one of them is partly enjoying the interaction. Even at his wits end, Steve never actively attempts to stop Brent from entering his office, much less interacting with him, or talking to him. If you do get on his nerves enough, he stops letting you ask him things, but he not once stands up to stop Brent. He remains a completely passive observer and you're free to do what you please otherwise. For all of the verbal agression, there is very little action involved, and everything else is a lot subtler. Even one of the milder actions he could've taken against Brent, would have been to take the scissors back from him. Brent has coat pockets and little else, at least canonically since he of course has videogame-character-with-infinite-space-on-their-persona-syndrome. He knows that Brent has his scissors in one of those pockets. But he makes zero moves to get them back, despite his earlier determination to "not lose anything to anyone again, especially not to [Brent]" (perhaps he realizes it's futile, for he has already lost here, against Brent, all the time. Despite his toxic "masculine" facade, he can't help who he is, and this goes unspoken). He just asks him what else he wants, and then tells him to get out, again, just spoken word. Brent is free to stay if he pleases.

This gets interesting when you consider an inocous detail in the game that no one knows how to answer: The fan. Why can you, as Brent, turn on the fan? Perhaps the detail of the fan, even, was meant to represent how this is their dynamic. Steve won't even comment on it, won't even care, because despite everything, he's not as bothered by this as he pretends he is. And perhaps even enjoys someone actually treating him this way for once, with dominance instead of fear. He finds Brent a bit threatening, and he enjoys it. Turning on the fan could disturb his work. It could make his papers go everywhere. This game takes place in the fall. It's presumably a bit chilly, so it could also cause Steve some discomfort, assuming he's not warm, and giving that they don't appear to have telepathic communication (unless they do), I highly doubt that Brent is aware of his current bodily temperature unless he supposes his presence is rising it. That or given that Brent is aware that Steve is floating, he is hoping that if he turns on the fan he will float away from the Yard, but that's neither here nor there.

Whatever their relationship is? ...It is definitely not just your standard rivalry. It is ADVANCED. There is something going on here. I don't know what it is, or what the hell any of this answered, to be honest.

...I'm gonna go get some coffee.

#This is half a joke #half truth #WTH WHY DID I WRITE SO MUCH WHAT HAPPENED #I'm so sorry all of this is mildly funny to me but this is probably not that funny.#one time someone pointed out that I make long-ass messages out of literally anything even on chats and I've been self-conscious ever since.#There is so much about this ask I adore I don't even know where to begin.#You actually went from their last names to their first names which is fire tbh-#STEVE X BRENT FANFICS WHEN #See it sounds so much worse that way #MOTD #MOTD asks #my asks #MOTD meta #Long post #Steve Lowry #Steve X Brent #Brent X Steve #Halligan X Lowry #The Mystery of the Druids #Brent Halligan #Mystery of the Druids #Lowrigan? Hallrygan? Hallry? Howry? Hawry? WHERE ARE MY SCISSORS? Half-floating?#Strent? Sterent? Lowrent? Lawrent? (Now these just sounds like the name of a shitty company) Stelligan? Stevigan? Halleve? (wtf)

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mymoonagedaydream · 4 years

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A Loki x reader would be great please. Maybe something where the reader isn’t really an avenger but is somehow really close with one member, so she visits a lot and is kind to Loki but at the same time doesn’t take any of his crap?

The New Guy

Summary: You were just about at the end of your rope with Natasha’s friends- until you met the newest addition to the compound

Pairing: Loki x y/n

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Language, floofy

Author's Note: Thank you for the request anon :) I really enjoyed writing this one

---

Natasha had invited you for drinks at the compound again. God help you.

It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy spending time with her, you just really didn’t fit in with her work friends. They were all jacked up super soldiers with no interest in talking about anything other than their work- as soon as they found out you’d never been in a fight and you didn't have any personal firearm preferences, they had very little time for you.

When you arrived they were all sprawled out on the sofas, looking as intimidating as usual, already half-cut on whatever Thor was handing out. You were offered some but Nat quickly swatted it away, assuring you that one sip would leave you absolutely paralytic.

The usual conversations happened, about missions and combat and god knows what else, until the party inevitably degenerated into the boys finding excuses to make each other take shots. You eventually managed to retreat to the kitchen, claiming that you were going to grab another drink but really just needing a break from the frat party you'd found yourself in the middle of.

Opening a beer and flopping against the counter, you rubbed your forehead wearily. In future you were definitely only hanging out with Nat at your place.

Light footsteps padded into the kitchen. You glanced up to see a man you didn't recognise with pale, almost translucent skin and jet-black hair falling onto his shoulders. He stopped suddenly when he saw you.

'Hi.' You smiled politely. He stared at you silently for a second, looking a little puzzled. 'Oh I'm y/n, Nat's friend.'

'Loki. Charmed.' His voice was deep and smooth, sending faint goosebumps down your arm.

His gaze lingered on you just a beat too long as he passed you to get to the fridge, then scanning his eyes over the contents and making a series of disgusted noises.

Glancing back over to the sofas, you figured that they probably weren’t missing you, so there was really no need to hurry back. Besides, this guy had really piqued your curiosity.

'Do you work for Stark too?'

His shoulders tensed up slightly and he gave an exasperated chuckle, before turning round to shoot you a gaze that could cut metal.

'Do I look like I work for him?'

The words were coated in a confusing mix of amusement and annoyance. You thought it was a pretty reasonable question, since he seemed to be living in the compound, so you weren't about to start backtracking.

'Honestly, yeah. Kind of.’ He smirked and narrowed his eyes at you. ‘You've got a bit of a vampire thing going on, seems like a niche that Tony hasn't filled yet.'

'I don’t think I like your tone.’

The side of your mouth curled into a mischievous smile, the temptation to keep teasing him almost overwhelming you, but you managed to fight it.

'Why are you here then? If you don’t mind me asking.'

‘Apparently I can’t be trusted to function without supervision.’ He reached for a glass and filled it with water, adding under his breath ‘at least in prison I was left alone.’

He started heading back towards the door, but you were pretty keen to elongate this interaction as much as possible, cause it was saving you from one of the worst evenings of your life.

'Not joining the party?'

Just the words left your mouth, a half-empty empty beer can flew across the room and exploded against the wall. Thor bellowed something you didn't quite catch and the other frat boys started hooting like morons.

Loki moved his gaze slowly from the freshly-stained wall back over to you. 'I'd rather have my limbs torn off by wolves.'

A long, laboured sigh escaped your lips. ‘Me too.’

You rubbed your eyes harshly, waiting to hear the sound of his footsteps retreating from the kitchen, but nothing happened. You dropped your hands and felt your stomach flip when you saw him still standing opposite you, giving you a curious smile.

‘What was your name again?’

‘Y/n.’ You mumbled, his gaze making you a little nervous.

‘Very nice meeting you y/n.’

Your eyes followed him as he walked out of the kitchen. You were too preoccupied with analysing what’d just happened to notice Nat approaching, squinting at you suspiciously.

‘Oh god, I know that face.’

Your eyes flicked over to her, feeling yourself blushing slightly. ‘What face?’

‘Jesus y/n, I've been trying to set you up with Steve for weeks and now suddenly you're interested in Thor’s psychopath brother?.’

‘He seemed nice enough.’

She grabbed a beer out of the fridge, not wavering her irritated stare from your face. ‘He destroyed Manhattan and almost killed all of us.’

‘Ah.’ Your heart sunk a little, but thinking more on it, you realised that something really wasn’t adding up. ‘Wait, why the hell is he here then?’

‘Thor says he's changed.’

‘Oh right… well maybe he has.’ You shrugged and gave her a teasing smile. ‘His brother of all people would know.’

‘You're unbelievable.’

She was probably right.

Then again, you were a big advocate for giving people a second chance.

Oh, who were you kidding? With that smile he could have all the fucking chances he wanted.

---

It’s true, you had promised yourself that in future you’d only see Nat outside the compound, but now you thought maybe you weren't being fair. Maybe you should give her friends another chance. Maybe if you hang around the compound long enough you might bump into silky voice again.

Besides, this time it wasn’t just a bunch of dudes getting hammered, it was a freaking garden party. Surely it couldn't degenerate in the same way those other nights did...

You were there for ten minutes before Thor sprayed champagne all over your outfit.

‘My apologies, friend of Natasha.’ He obviously didn’t remember your name. ‘I think you look better like that anyway.’

You could hear a chorus of sniggering behind you. You had half a mind to just give up and leave, when you felt a hand plant itself on your lower back.

Loki appeared beside you and passed you a wad of napkins with his free hand. ‘Must you be such a blundering idiot all the time, brother?’

‘It’s fine, just an accident.’ You shot Thor a tight smile and wiped the sticky alcohol off your face. As soon as he moved out of earshot, you muttered under your breath. ‘Fucking asshole.’

‘An accurate assessment.’ Loki chuckled before removing his hand and slowly moving to stand opposite you. ‘I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect to see you again.’

‘Yeah? Why's that?’

‘You didn't exactly seem like you were enjoying their company.’

A dejected grimace spread across your face. ‘Was it that obvious?’

You tried your best to dry your clothes, but they were already stained beyond repair. Sighing in exasperation, you balled up the napkins, tossed them on a nearby table and gave Loki a defeated shrug.

He shot some daggers over at the gaggle of idiots, still guffawing amongst themselves, before placing a hand softly on your upper arm.

‘I was about to take a walk through the woods. Perhaps you'd like to join me?’

‘That actually sounds really nice.’ You gave him a faint smile. ‘Thanks.’

Following him into the trees, you checked behind you a few times, only relaxing when the noise of the party started fading into the background.

‘Worried we'll be hunted?’

‘Nope, just don’t want Nat to see us disappear into the forest together.’ He furrowed his brows at you in slight confusion. ‘She made it pretty clear that I should stay away from you.’

‘And yet, here you are, alone with me in the dense wilderness. Maybe you have a deathwish?’

‘Maybe. Or maybe I think your bark is worse than your bite.’

You walked together for a while, conversation flowing easily. You weren't sure if it was the fresh air, the smell of champagne or your growing excitement at being alone with Loki, but your head started swimming a little.

Every single guy you'd been with throughout your life had bored you almost to tears, it had just been one meathead after another. Granted, moving straight onto alleged psychopaths probably wasn't ideal, but you were a grown ass adult and you were allowed to make terrible decisions if you felt like it.

Jesus, maybe you did have a deathwish.

Coming to a clearing, you both stopped at the edge of a small river crossing your path. There was a short, comfortable silence as you listened to the flowing water, enjoying the peace you’d found in what would otherwise have been a turbulent evening.

‘I can see why you like this walk.’ You eventually piped up. ‘It must be lovely and peaceful when you're alone.’

He let out a deep, breathy chuckle and turned towards you. ‘I'm actually rather enjoying having some company. Intelligent conversation seems difficult to come by in this place.’

‘Interesting. I can’t possibly imagine why anyone would avoid talking to you.’

Your voice was dripping with sarcasm. When you finally dared to turn your head and sneak a look at his face, you were relieved to see that he seemed more amused than offended, narrowed eyes glaring at you above a roguish smirk.

‘Let those halfwits avoid me.’ He raised his arm and tugged at your shoulder, gently turning you round to face him. ‘I take great care when choosing my company.’

His hand dropped as he stepped closer, leaving barely an inch between your chests. Your breath hitched and you felt yourself tense up a little, his close proximity eliciting a potent cocktail of anxiety and excitement.

'Are you frightened?'

His words were barely a whisper, but they raced down your spine and along your arms like an electric shock, making every part of your body tingle. You shook your head slowly, doing everything you could to hold yourself steady.

'Good.'

His arm circled your waist and he pulled you towards him assertively, gazing down at you against his chest for a second before dropping his face and pressing his lips firmly against yours.

They were ice cold, the shock causing you to pull in a sharp breath through your nose. He seemed to notice, as his mouth curled into a slight smile against yours, the feeling of which made your stomach quake even harder.

You relaxed as you felt his other arm snake around your waist, both of them tightening to press his body more firmly against yours. You slid your arms around his neck and pulled his head down further, deepening the kiss and eliciting a deep growl from his throat.

After a minute he pulled away slightly, bringing a hand up to cup your face and hold it in place, hovering close enough to his that you could feel his warm breath against your lips.

A wide, satisfied smile spread across his face.

‘Perhaps Midgard isn’t so bad after all.’

---

#loki x reader #loki #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki fluff #loki imagine #loki oneshot

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johnkrrasinski · 4 years

Text

Dear Lover... ❥

full masterlist

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word count: 5,689

Warning: pure fluff. pure feelings. a little bit of angst but with a happy ending 😌

Summary: you dance with bucky barnes in the obscurity of your room as you recalled the first time you met and how three years later you ended up tangled in each other’s arms. (based on the song “lover” by taylor swift)

a/n: this one’s a love letter to the love of my life aka bucky barnes. it took me awhile to find the will to write about him because i truly wanna write something that gives him justice, because this man deserves nothing but happiness and love. hope you like it. please leave a like & comment.

It was a quiet Thursday evening, precisely at 8.35 PM. The rain outside of the Avengers tower was pouring, splatters of misty droplets bedewed the window glass. Through the lens of your shared room, transpierced the lights of the bustling city of New York. The city that never sleeps, as one would say. You could hear the sound of honking cars and sirens going off somewhere and it truly eased your mind.

You loved New York. You were born and raised in this vivacious city. Though your parents took the chance to move to Manhattan and fought to survive the exorbitant living cost, they managed. They taught you to fight hard and work tenaciously if you wanted to make it. The city was all you knew your entire life. But most importantly, you loved the man you were sharing this bedroom with more.

You had been dating Bucky Barnes, aka the former Winter Soldier, aka the White Wolf, for three summers now. Your first encounter with him wasn’t exactly the most romantic “how I met your mother” kind of story.

You were in the kitchen, late night, trying to make yourself a nice hot chocolate to cool down your nerves. Moving into the Avengers Tower had truly wearied you. Of course, you were aware that you weren’t supposed to be since there were literally a super soldier, a former Pararescueman, a man with a highly advanced iron suit, two highly trained assassins, a powerful witch, a (part-time) green beast, and an actual living human android helping you with your belongings. You couldn’t have asked for better movers.

But the adaptation of change still drained some of your energy. Maybe more mentally than physically, but whatever, you just needed a nice, sweet warm drink before you can finally sleep in your fresh, new, never used before bed. It was nearing four am and everyone had returned to their private quarters, except you.

You walked into the kitchen leisurely in nothing but your Bambi pyjamas, as you reached for the kitchen cabinet to search for a jar of instant hot chocolate. “Make yourself at home,” Tony said earlier as he was giving you a quick tour around the tower. The tower was so spacious and palatial, it was easy to get lost. “We’ve got everything here; food, snacks, coffee, tea, hot chocolate, ice creams and more… But don’t eat the half-eaten fried egg chicken on the fridge, though. That one belongs to Clint and he wouldn’t hesitate in shooting an arrow through your skull if you stole it.”

You poured the hot water into the glass and then you were ready to drink it up. You were so pleased by the taste of hot chocolate streaming through your tongue, you didn’t hear the faint sounds of footsteps approaching. Bucky had just returned from a solo mission to Brussels and he hadn’t had the chance to properly introduce himself to you. He had only heard about you through Fury and Tony’s narrative when they informed the team that they were going to have a new addition to the team.

Steve had texted him a picture of her earlier, picking up her boxes to her new bedroom… She looked lovely. She was only wearing a simple white shirt with high-waisted, ripped blue jeans to complete the casual look but, she didn’t have to try hard to catch his eye. He couldn’t wait to go back to the tower and talk to her. He crossed his finger hoping that he wouldn’t mess it up or embarrassingly stutter his own name whilst shaking her hand.

Bucky soundlessly walked towards you as he placed a hand on your shoulder, trying not to startle you but you weren’t expecting anyone to be awake, and you didn’t know that Bucky was supposed to return today. Your brain had been so occupied with moving in, that you forgot there was one member of the team missing because he was on a solo mission and that he was supposed to return in the early morning.

So you accidentally dropped your glass, spilling your little taste of heaven all over the counter, as you turned around and punched him on the face. You shrieked as soon as you felt a palm touching your shoulder, thinking it might’ve been a ghost or worse, an intruder. For a second there, you nearly forgot that you weren’t living all by yourself in a tiny apartment anymore. You were in the most highly secured building in New York, surrounded by vigilant superheroes that had fought bigger guys than a callow thief or more lethal than supernatural forces.

Bucky’s hand immediately went to his face, as he shrieked in pain. He absolutely didn’t expect a punch from you, considering he meant well. He slightly backed away on his feet, clutching the nose that had bled due to the robust force. You soon realized that he was Bucky Barnes, the Avenger that had just gone back from a solo mission Steve told you about, and you had just realized that you punched… The Winter Soldier. Oh my God. Your guilt rushes through your gut and you immediately covered your mouth with your hand in panic.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was still awake, I’m so sorry.” You reached out to his hand, trying to see the damage that you did.

“No, it’s okay, doll. I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that, I’m sorry.” He wiped the blood that leaked out his nose.

“No, no, no, it wasn’t your fault at all, I shouldn’t have reacted like that… Please, let me help you with that.”

“I got it doll, really. It’s nothing.”

“I insist. Please, otherwise I’d feel really bad.”

You moved to the couch in the common room, as you began patching him up. You both finally introduced yourselves properly this time, and you talked for about an hour until the sun was starting to rise. When you realized how late it had gotten and how exhausted Bucky must’ve been, only then, you returned to your individual bedrooms. And thus, a friendship was born. The beginning of something eternal and profound.

The next morning, things changed. Bucky would act differently around you whenever the team was around. Or anyone, at all, was around. Bucky would often avoid your eyes and act awkwardly around you. You didn’t see the man that you had a warm conversation with at 4 in the morning on that first day anymore. You felt like talking to a stranger that you had to walk on eggshells with. When Steve asked Bucky whether he had met you or not during breakfast, Bucky with his head down simply responded, “yeah… We’ve met.” That elicited a furrowed brows from you.

Steve later counselled you about it, “don’t worry. He’s like that with everyone. It’s not easy to start a small talk when you are the former winter soldier.”

You tried to tell yourself not to overthink it or take it personally. Of course, you were aware of the history. It was told in every history class. But you still couldn’t shake the need to get to know him more. You’d do it deliberately, you weren’t going to force him to break out of his shell, but you wanted to let him know that he had nothing to be ashamed of with you.

And so, you would often knock on his bedroom door since your bedrooms were on the same floor when you brought something from your favourite bakery shop. Or when you hear the excruciating screams at night, because he couldn’t tame down the demons in his sleep, reminding him of his inevitable, vicious past that spilled a lot of blood and caused him a lot of pain. Mentally, emotionally and physically.

At first, he would give you a sardonic look as he asked you of why you were here. You’d tell him that you thought he could use a company and so, the friendship, or whatever that you had with him would bloom through the murmured secrets and the late-night rendevous. It turned into a nightly thing that only you and Bucky shared. Nobody else had to know.

During the day, there were a lot of stolen glances and lingering tension in the room, everyone could sense it except you and Bucky yourselves. But yet, you didn’t speak many words about it to each other. Everyone who saw you two knew that you two hid some amount of feelings for each other. But yet, neither of you dared to make the first move.

Sam, Wanda and Nat were your closest friends and therefore, they knew the most about your unspoken feelings for Bucky. Starting from the awkward chats to the time where this new agent shamelessly flirted with Bucky in front of you. Of course, you were aware that anyone could flirt with Bucky, he wasn’t yours, to begin with. But it was still rude and disrespectful and you being the irrational, jealous person that you were, you’d often ramble to either Sam, Wanda or Nat in their private quarters until you felt better again.

One night, where this agent, Samantha or whatever her name was, had boldly touched Bucky’s arm at one of Tony’s flamboyant parties, in front of you, you immediately texted Sam, Wanda and Nat in the group text called “Besties” to gather up in your room because you needed to vent.

“Look, y/n, if you’re so annoyed by her flirting, then why don’t you just tell Bucky how you feel?” Wanda said.

“I don’t understand…” You squinted your eyes at her. It’s not like you didn’t actually understand what she was saying, but the concept of confessing your feelings to Bucky sounded like an absurd idea.

“Look, I’m just saying, what’s the worse that could happen?”

“Okay, Wanda, now you’re just talking shit.”

“Y/N” Sam interposed. “He might like you too. He may not say much but we all caught those stolen glances, don’t you think we didn’t see it.”

“You don’t know that for sure, Sam. Besides, it’s not just about him not liking me back… What if he’s just not ready to date? What if he likes me but not in that way? There are a million things that could go wrong. So, please, let’s cross out the idea of telling him how I feel because it’s definitely not happening.”

Sam, Wanda and Nat exchanged a look. “Okay, it’s your life anyway. But y/n, if you don’t move now, then you might lose your chance forever. Samanta could be seducing him into her bed right now as you are rambling about her to us.” Natasha closed it.

Her words had truly struck you light lightning. You never thought of it that way… You always thought you had every second in the clock, just waiting for you to be ready. Or him to be ready. But you never thought of the possibility of Bucky and Samantha actually going on a date… What if she had asked him to go out with her next weekend? And what if he had said yes? The thought hurt. It crushed your heart like a shredder. It twisted you inside out like a sickness.

And so, after Sam, Nat and Wanda returned to the party, you stayed in your room. You told them that you’d catch up, you just needed to rest your feet from standing in heels for too long. You were lying. You needed some time alone with your thoughts, as you were trying to plan your next move. You recalled all those late-night rendevous and midnight conversations, and you felt it in your heart. That mighty urge in your heart. Like the entire crowd you were standing before are chanting the words loudly to you. “Tell him! Tell him! Tell him!”

You felt all the feelings you contained inside for him rushed through your veins, like a power surging through your cells, bestowing you the courage to stand on your feet, put on your heels and reapplied your lipstick. You straightened the frowns of your dress in front of the mirror as you took a deep breath. “You got this.” You stared your reflection dead in the eye and convinced yourself.

When you were satisfied with your fixed appearance, you immediately went back to the party. You couldn’t wait to find him. Giddiness, nervousness, and anxiety were swirling in your chest. You ordered Friday to take you to the lobby, where the party was held, as you leaned back on the glass wall of the elevator and you folded your arms around you, trying to ground yourself. You tried to stand steadily and not face-plant yourself on the marble floor in front of Bucky. You would never be able to live with yourself.

When the elevator finally reached the main lobby, the metal doors separated, showing you the people in fancy suits and dresses chattering with one another, with a glass of sparkling Champagne in their hands. You immediately searched for Bucky. A slick black, long dark hair, clad in a black dress shirt and black pants. Your eyes gazed into every corner of the room, focusing thoroughly on the large chunk of a man.

You finally spotted him by the bar. He was sitting with a glass of tonic and gin in his hand, as he took a sip of it, then he put it down on the bar counter. It would’ve been a tantalizing sight that you’d love to sit back and observe if it weren’t for the person sitting next to him. Samantha was sitting with her legs crossed beside him, her body was fully faced to Bucky as she tried to reach out to feel his bicep again for God knows how many times that night. She was laughing and even from the distance, you could see the glint in her eyes at something he just said.

You felt like you had been hit by a truck. The butterflies in your stomach turned into a monster that was devouring your insides with its tapered fangs. You felt dizzy as you felt like you were going to drop on the floor if you don’t hold onto something. Steve happened to be walking past you thankfully and as soon as he saw you looking unwell, he immediately grabbed your arm, awakening you from your daze.

“Y/N, are you alright? You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine, Steve... I’m…” You cleared your throat, trying to pull yourself back into consciousness. “I think I need to lay down. I’ll see you in the morning, Steve. Please tell Tony that I’m not feeling well.”

“Alright, yeah, go ahead. I’ll inform the team if they ask about you.”

“Thanks, Steve.” You nearly stumbled on your feet as soon as you took your first step.

“Whoa, do you need me to walk you to your room?”

“No, it’s fine. I got it. Night, Steve.”

“Goodnight, y/n.” He watched you warily, feeling hesitant whether he should really let you walk to your floor alone or not. As soon as you went inside the elevator, and the mental doors had closed, you slumped on the wall as you tried to muffle your cries. Nothing could hurt you more than seeing the man that you were secretly in love with, flirting with another girl. You couldn’t find it in you to give directions to Friday. So you just stood there, listening to the Jazz music playing in the background.

Until you were finally wearied enough to say the word to Friday. The AI politely responded, “yes, miss.”

As soon as you reached your floor, you took off your heels as they swayed with every step that you took. Your cheeks were tainted by ruined mascara, and your hair was slightly dishevelled. You couldn’t care any less. You should be dancing to the slow music or even kissing him drunkenly at the bar with your hands wrapped around his neck right now. But no, he was probably doing those with Samantha. You knew you were being unreasonable, crying over a man who was never yours, to begin with. But you allowed yourself to feel the pain and then, you can figure out a way to move on. You just needed to unleash it all out first.

You put your heels in the corner of your bedroom and stripped yourself out of the white cocktail dress. You immediately ran for the shower, your limbs felt more ponderous than ever. The last time you experienced a broken heart was in eleventh grade when you ran into your senior crush, Peyton at the mall with a girl who didn’t go to the same school as you, in his arm. You nearly walked up to him to say hi but your plan was instantly crushed before you even found the courage to talk to him.

Ever since then, you made a pact with your heart that you were never going to fall in love first ever again. You were okay with being single, you weren’t the kind of person who constantly needs romantic love. You focused on self-growth, you focused on your skills which is martial arts and military tactics. You invested your mind and energy into self-love, friendship and your education.

When you were finally ready to roam around the city at night as a vigilante, you’d sneak off every night to sit building rooftops and you looked after the small guys around the neighbourhood. Until your small vigilante works were heard and Fury snuck into your apartment to recruit you himself.

After your shower, you changed into an oversized grey hoodie that you once stole from Bucky’s closet, one night while having one of those clandestine rendezvous in his room. You were cold and you were only wearing a thin-layered white shirt with a worn-out pair of old swimming shorts that still fitted you.

“Here, wear my hoodie.” He walked to his achromatic closet and revealed the tidily-placed pile of black and white shirts and pants. He didn't have that many clothes but, it was enough to secure his enormous figure cosily. He pulled out one of his fresh from the laundry sweatshirts from the heap. He handed them to you and inserted yourself into the aromatic material.

When you were both finally too somnolent to keep your eyes wide open. He walked you to your room and you didn’t realize you were still wearing his hoodie until you said your final goodnight. When you tried to take it off your body, he said, “no, it’s alright. You can return it to me in the morning.”

But you never did. And he was okay with that. At least you thought. Because never once he asked for it back. You’d even catch his demure smile when he saw you wearing it.

You did your nighttime skincare routine and went to bed. The scent of his hoodie was faint but enough to make you yearn for him. It’s ridiculous, really. To miss someone who was never yours, and someone who practically lived right next to you, considering how long he could spend hiding in his own room.

You felt the tears brimming in your eyes as they ran down your cheeks and soaked your pillow sheets. You sniffled as your mind harked back to the shared moments in the gloom and the timid touches when words could no longer bear the intimacy. The moon knows more about you and him than anyone ever will and if you could no longer feel his skin against your anymore even for just a second, you were going to hold onto the memories.

You were lost pacing down the memory lane until you heard a subtle knock on the door. Three taps and you instantly knew who was standing on the other side. You tried to neglect it, hoping that he would get the message of leaving you alone. You weren’t ready to face or talk to him. But he wouldn’t relent. He knocked once more, telling you that he wasn’t leaving until you answered him.

You stayed in the exact same spot until you were peevish enough to keep listening to it. You finally stood on your feet and opened the door with a sour look on your face. He greeted you with a nonchalant smile, his hair now was tied in a low bun.

“Hey, Steve told me that you weren’t feeling well, what happened?” His expression was filled with concern.

“I’m fine, now. You can go.” You sneered. You tried to shut the door, not even wanting to face him any longer or listen to his unprompted “I got a date!” story.

He was appalled by your anomalous behaviour, as he immediately stopped the door with his hand from being slammed on his face. “Hey, hold on a second. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I said, I’m fine, Bucky. Just leave me alone, please.”

His chest tightened at your sardonic words. You had never acted this way around him before. Did he say something wrong? Did he wake you at the wrong time? Were you on your cycle? He was bewildered.

“I just wanna know if you were alright. Steve said you looked really pale at the party and you had to leave early and if you are then maybe I could bring you a soup or something.”

“I just need to be alone, Bucky. Alright? I was feeling much better until you showed up.” You didn’t mean to be so spiteful and blunt. You just needed some space. And his presence was intoxicating and the longer you see him, the harder it would be for you to let go.

Bucky didn’t respond immediately but the look on his eyes was enough to beckon his hurt. “What did I do? Did I say something wrong?”

“No, Bucky, it’s not you, it’s just-” You inhaled. Trying to cool yourself down before you continued. “Just not tonight, alright?”

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” He puffed himself up, masking his frustration. No, no, he wasn’t ready to let you go before he could even tell you he loved you. So if planting himself on his feet would make you enlighten him, he was going to do that.

“Okay, then just fucking stand there all night, I don’t care.” The cool in you vanished, turned into a small flame of counterwork.

“Why are you acting like this? Huh? You can’t just knock on my door whenever you feel like and shut me out like this.”

“Well, why don’t you just vent to your new girlfriend, then? I’m pretty sure she’ll be more than happy to listen to your ramblings all night.” You stormed into the room, trying to slam the door behind you but Bucky stopped it as he followed you inside. It wouldn’t be wise to keep this argument in the hall where the whole tower could hear you.

“What? What the hell are you talking about? I don’t have a girlfriend!”

“Oh, of course, Bucky. As if you hadn’t practically just gone on your first date with her at the party.”

“You’re being ridiculous, y/n! We were just talking.”

“Bullshit! Like no one could see the bedroom eyes she was giving you. She was practically fucking your brains out at the bar. Oh and not to mention, how she was groping your biceps like you were the only two people in the room!”

“What is this? Jealousy?”

“No! Stop flattering yourself, Bucky.”

“Okay, so what is it? I can’t fix whatever this is…” His fingers motioned to the invisible string binding the two of you. Who are you kidding? You both knew there was something more than a platonic bond between the two of you, you were just too dastardly to admit it with words to one another. “…If you don’t tell me the truth.”

Deep down, you knew the jealousy was senseless but in the heat of the dispute, you couldn’t stop your mouth from conveying the words out loud.

“Because I like you and I don’t want you to be with anyone but me, okay? There. I said it. Are you happy now? I like you and I know I’m being unreasonable, but I don’t like the thought of you being with someone who’s not me.”

Bucky was aghasted by your vehement declaration. Did he get it right? Did you really just tell him the words that he had always wanted to hear? The words that nearly escaped his lips more times than he could count, but never found the courage because he thought he wasn’t good enough for you? Was he dreaming? This felt surreal.

“You… You like me?”

You scoffed. “Yeah. I do, Bucky. Unfortunately. But now, I understand if you wanna go out with Samantha or if you never speak a word to me again, I get it. But at least you know that I li-”

He abruptly grabbed your face and pressed a brief kiss on your lips, taking your breath away like a typhoon. It was short-lived but enough to knock you off your feet. He retreated and gazed deeply into your eyes, hoping that you could see the suppressed emotions you made him feel whenever he was with you. He wasn’t a man of many words, after all, but after spending months of excavating each other’s secrecies, you got the message. Words were futile, anyway, when the feelings that you had were stronger than anything else you had ever felt.

“I like you too, y/n. So much.”

“You do?”

He nodded, a grin spread across his face, making his eyes gleam in the obscurity of your room.

“What about Samantha?”

“Sweetheart, I never had any feelings for her. She can flirt with me all she wants, but you gotta know that I only have eyes for you, darling. And there’s no one else I wanna be with other than you.”

“You mean that?” Your smile had made its way back to your face. The smile that only Bucky could evoke. Your eyes were twinkling with hope.

“Every word.”

And that’s you ended up here now, three years later, sharing a reposeful room with the love of your life. You had just returned from a late sparing session with Natasha in the training room. Crazy, how three years ago, you’d incessantly ramble about the same person and the same topic, which is Bucky’s cluelessness whilst running on the treadmill with her but now, you talked about various random things like two normal friends would. As if the issue that you had with Bucky had been resolved. All’s well that ends well.

You spotted your boyfriend, who had a much shorter hair now, sitting contently on the bed with a Sci-Fi novel in his hands. His long fingers sophisticatedly enveloped the cover as he thoroughly focused on the words on the pages but, it was quickly disrupted when you walked into the room, greeting him with a smile. “Hey, baby. What are you reading?”

“This sci-fi novel that Sam got me for my birthday but I didn’t pick it up until now. How was the training, sweetheart?”

“The usual. Nat, being the competitive little shit that she is, kicked my ass but I got her back at least. Twice.” You had showered in the gym bathroom before you went upstairs to see your boyfriend so you didn’t have to bother concealing your musty scent due to the sweat.

“That’s my girl.” He got on his feet and walked towards you, as he looked at you with so much admiration and love in his eyes, it overwhelms you sometimes. The way he’d hold you whilst being starstruck by every feature on your face, and the way he’d tell you he loved you, with so many sincerity behind the words, even after three years of being together. You were lucky. You both were. To find a home within each other.

He kissed you deeply like he hadn’t had the pleasure to see you in three months even if you had only been gone for an hour. His lips enthralled you every time and he wouldn’t mind giving you the solace as much as you desired. He needed it more from you, anyway.

When your lips were apart, he pressed his forehead to yours. The vague light from the table lamp beside your bed illuminated the room along with the dimmed city lights, casting a dainty glow on the two of you. Like a spotlight on a stage, and you were the star-crossed lovers of the tale, illustrating a true story of unbreakable love.

“Dance with me.” Bucky said.

“Well, then, I shall put on the perfect song, sir.”

You ordered Friday to play the song “Lover” by Taylor Swift, as the first hits of the drum immediately moved your bodies against each other, his hand seized yours as you tucked your head under his chin. His other arm wrapped itself around your waist, holding you as close as possible like it was your last dance. But certainly not. This was merely one in a thousand dances to come.

We could leave the Christmas lights, up ‘till January

This is our place, we make the rules

You swayed to the nostalgic song playing in the background, echoing the words of love all around the room. Like you were the only lovers on the grand dancefloor, as the singer harmonises only for you.

And there’s a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear

Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?

You leaned your head on his chest, his slow heartbeat thumps in your ear. The beat grounds you like gravity, reminding you of how the term ‘home’ isn’t only a structure with four walls and a ceiling, but rather, a figure with serum-injected blood coursing through his veins, an injured skin layering all the organs, fashioning one magnetic force of a man.

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close?

Forever and ever

His gentle hand rubbed your back, as his feet swung with the tune. He was a man out of his time. Despite being alive in the modern world long enough now, he was still taking baby steps in adapting to the culture and that includes music. Back then, this wasn’t exactly the kind of music he’d ask a girl to dance along to, but he learned to appreciate your musical preference and slowly, he grew fond of them too.

And ah, take me out and take me home

You’re my, my, my, my lover

Because the lyrics had truly hit close to home. If someone had delivered him a mail during his Winter Soldier years, that he was going to find a beautiful, loving woman who willingly took his hand; scars and all. Despite the demons in his mind and the ghosts in his past, she was going to love him faithfully and she would offer her own hand to guide him through the path of daylight… He’d laugh on their faces and told them to piss off because they were wasting his time by speaking baloney.

We could let our friends crash in the living room

This is our place, we make the call

But he was wrong. You walked into his life and gratefully punched his face on that night and he will forever thank the lucky stars for that. Because what he didn’t have a single clue of was that, it was the beginning of something tangible and something that became his religion. Something that became his lifeline. Despite still dealing with his own demons that he wasn’t sure whether they will ever truly leave him or not, he was a happy man. He didn’t think it was possible to say that. He was a happy man, in love. And it sounds strange to accept that as the truth but, it was what it was.

And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you

I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all

He twirled you around gently. Careful not to trip you. He caught you in his arms as you bent your body with peremptory trust, his handsome face never failed to mesmerize you.

Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?

With every guitar string scar on my hand

I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover

You swayed on your feet once more, but really, you were just spending time, embracing the security in each other’s arms. You don’t care about the past heartbreaks or the haunting memories. You are not even stressing out to think about what tomorrow promises, you simply wanted to live every second of this moment with him.

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

All's well that ends well to end up with you

Swear to be over-dramatic and true to my lover

But whatever the future plans for you, you knew there would be no hurricane violent enough to shake your ground as long as you had Bucky by your side.

And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me

And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover

You were going to hold onto him through the agonizing mornings or vicious nights. You were going to hold onto him through Spring until the first drop of snow starts to cover the ground in white again. You were going to hold onto him through the Christmas Eves and New Years. Whether it be when you’re sharing a midnight kiss or when you’re hungover for all the drinks from last night.

You took a vow that no matter what happened, there would be no more unspoken words that would be an emotional barrier between the two of you. You only wanted to have eyes for him because everything fades into the background and the stars align when your bodies were intertwined, unable to tell where you began and he ended.

You’re permanently stuck with each other and that’s all you ever really wanted.

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cathrrrine · 3 years

Text

RUN | Pietro x Reader

Originally from my Wattpad

CHAPTER 07 - ENEMY

----

"Wanda, talk to me!"

Pietro was trying his hardest to not cry, especially not in front of his teammates. His sister lay still on the gurney, which was being rolled to the O.R by two doctors and a nurse.

"Wanda!"

It was evident he was going to be left with no reply as the doors locked. The image of his sister bleeding out onto the grass was glued onto the back of his mind. Every time he thought about it again, it made him want to punch a wall. Or just lie down and forget about everything.

"Pietro, calm down." It was Clint. He recognised the archer's voice even without looking up. "She's going to be fine."

"She shot her."

"I know-"

"That woman shot my sister." He was seething. His heart was filled with hatred for his now-enemy. All potential positive thoughts he had for her before were long forgotten. The only image he had of her now was when she pulled the trigger as she aimed at his twin.

"She's locked up. Tony's got it under control."

Pietro heard him, but the only thing going through his head was how he was going to murder her.

————

"Lisa, am I right?" The blond soldier crossed his arms, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pursed.

I saw right through him. He was putting up an act that he was obviously tired of. I wanted so badly to get out, I would do anything for it to be possible. In this case, it was playing coy.

"Yes, Captain." I smirked. "Is that what you prefer to be called?"

"I ask the questions here."

"Sure, you do." I shrugged. "Or maybe you think that's what everyone expects of you."

I could see the shift in his body language and the anticipation reflecting in his eyes. He was intrigued in what I was trying to say.

"You know..." I started, standing up in my cell to walk towards him. "You might be big and strong on the outside. But on the inside, everyone knows you're just the same old weak and puny Steve Rogers."

His spine straightened, obviously affected by what I had said. I didn't care about him liking me right now, all I could think about was how my life was in danger and I needed to fix that.

"Guess what, Captain?" I emphasised his title once more. "Nobody buys your act."

He paused for a moment, and I could see a flicker of uncertainty in his blue eyes. I couldn't help but feel a little bit of regret. He looked so hurt by what I said. Or maybe he was trying to fight back a comment?

I wondered if I was just imagining it, just lying to myself that what I said actually got to him. But something in his facial expression told me otherwise. I guess I underestimated how good I was at playing this game.

"I buy it." A voice called out from the distance. I was a little bit startled, surprisingly. Of course we weren't alone.

"Oh, do you now?" I tried to figure out where the voice came from.

Through the glass, I could make out a sea of red hair. It wasn't until the owner of the voice took a few steps closer that I could make out her eyes, lips and nose. I've seen her multiple times throughout my lifetime, and even though I've seen her in pictures, there was no device on this planet that could capture the sangfroid in her posture, or her aura of solidity. I was moved when our eyes met.

"You...know me." Her eyebrows furrowed. I guess I gave it away.

I wasn't sure if I should answer her. Hell, I didn't even know what to say. "I do."

"I can't say I'm surprised."

"Huh," I scoffed. "Of course you can't. You're a class A threat to anyone you consider an enemy."

"And are you?"

"What? Am I what?"

"Someone I should consider to be an enemy."

I was thrown by that question. Why was she asking that question? I thought me being locked up already proved the fact that I wasn't exactly on their side.

I dared to look into her eyes again, and I was met by the same fire she walked into the room with.

"I know how it is, Y/N. This life you're leading, this isn't something you chose. It was forced upon you." There wasn't an ounce of pity in her words. She was just simply telling me what she thought was my truth.

"I'm not...I'm not Y/N." They knew my real name?

"Then who are you?"

I shook my head, trying to gather my thoughts. Is this what she was trying to do all along? To distract me from my original plan to escape? I barely paid attention to my handcuffs the whole time we were talking.

So, I turned my back to her and shut up.

———��——

"Piet?"

He sighed, taking her hand in his carefully. "Wanda, you're awake."

"Well, duh, idiot."

He chuckled, barely annoyed by what he would usually roll his eyes at.

"What happened?"

"You got shot in the shoulder by the bitch of a woman. We managed to capture her and she's in one of the cells now. I think they're in the middle of questioning her."

Wanda's forehead started to crinkle. "Ugh." Pietro leaned forward, ready to tend to his sister's every need. "I screwed up, didn't I?"

"What? No. You did fine." He wasn't expecting that.

"I wasn't strong enough! She got through and I'm the reason why I got shot. This is my own fault."

"Wanda, it wasn't that you weren't strong enough. Believe me, you are." Pietro squeezed her hand in assurance. "Sometimes shit happens."

"Then explain this!" Wanda gestured to her shoulder. "Like it or not, this is by my own hand. I wasn't powerful enough."

Pietro couldn't believe his ears. Why was his sister blaming herself for what that villian did to her?

"Wanda, I knew you were stupid but I didn't know you were this stupid." Wanda rolled her eyes at him, yanking her hand away from his.

"No, listen to me." Pietro urged, "She pulled the trigger even though it was supposed to be impossible, so that isn't your fault. We underestimated how powerful she was, and that's on us. I should've seen it coming."

Wanda smiled, comforted by her brother's attempt to ease her worries. But she still had her insecurities and issues with herself.

"I've seen you kill hundreds of thousands of robots in Sokovia. I've seen you defend yourself against multiple enemies. I wouldn't doubt your strength for a second." Pietro needed her to believe him. "So, why should you?"

The two of them looked at each other. No one understood them better than the other did. It was always the two of them against the world, and now even more so—if not for the other Avengers.

"I love you, idiot."

"Now shut up and go to sleep."

#pietro x you #pietro maximoff #quicksilver #wanda maximoff #mcu #the avengers #avengers imagine #marvel #run pietro x reader #pietro maximoff x y/n

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ad1thi · 3 years

Text

2020 fic recs!! [Part 1]

this idea was stolen from @iam93percentstardust cuz i just,,,thought that this year was absolute shit and it would be nice to make a fic rec list of fics from this year that helped me through it. this will be over a range of fandoms and ships, but all fics were written this year.

fics are ordered by the month they were published. ive tried to keep to five fics per month, but this is not obviously all the fics ive read that month - i just didn’t want to make this insanely long.

im releasing the first half of this on the 1st of December, and the second half on the 1st of January 2021 - because otherwise it would just get so long (and also so i will actually have fics for December)

happy reading!! hopefully you find fics on this you haven’t read yet

***

January

The cat is mighty dignified (until the dog comes by): @five-wow

Steve and Danny find them on the pillow in the corner of the dining area, where Eddie is on his side, ass half on the floor because the pillow is more cat-sized than lab-sized, and Pickles is nestled between Eddie’s front legs, essentially being spooned and looking very I-got-the-cream about it. Pickles’ head is tucked into the crook of Eddie’s neck and Eddie’s head slots perfectly on top of Mr. Pickles’, like a furry jigsaw puzzle.

“They’re cuddling,” Steve points out, unnecessarily.

Or: There is a love story unfolding under the McGarrett roof.

Captain ‘Socialist Rage Muffin’ America: @baffledkingcomposinghallelujah

It takes three months of dating Steve Rogers for Tony to understand why Aunt Peggy once shot at him in sheer frustration.

Alternately titled, Honey, I committed treason again.

The Best Laid Plans (Of Mice and Men): @arboreal-elm-ash-oak

His Dark Materials AU

It was Annalise who noticed their small visitor first.

“Tony,” the spider daemon said softly, skittering up the collar of his dress shirt, two of her eight legs resting delicately against his cheek, “Don’t startle them, but I believe we have a guest. Look, by the coffee table.”

Fourteen Million to One: @tunastorks

Six months after Thanos, six months after Tony’s death, six months after Steve returns to his own timeline, Tony Stark turns up on their doorstep.

Brewed Awakening: @iam93percentstardust

Two years after he comes out of the ice, Steve is drifting through life. On his teammate's recommendation, he decides to go back to school where he meets the grandson of an old friend. He finds happiness with Tony but Steve won't be in Boston forever and someone is out to hurt the Starks. Will Steve and Tony be able to reach their happily ever after?

February

the young, the reckless and the foolish: @bruciewayne

In most universes, they don't know each other, not in the slightest, or they hate each other, in a way that's perfectly logical for anyone who were to find themselves in a similar situation.

In this one, they've known each other since they were four years old and naively idealistic.

This is them over the years, against the odds.

a giant sign: @areiton

“Think you can get him to open the weapons division up again?” his CO asks, his voice hungry and Rhodey laughs because this--

“No. Tony hung up his weapons.”

“That’s not what the suit says,” his CO objects, and Rhodey shrugs.

Tony has always had rules, rules he expects the entire world to live by.

And then there was Rhodey, slipping under them.

my heart is driftwood, floating down your coast: @nethandrake

Tonight, there’s a stranger in his backseat. That’s not unusual.

He’s also sad. That’s not unusual either.

What is unusual is that the stranger is silent.

(One night, a stranger enters Steve's taxi. Nothing is the same again.)

Just A Cold: @/delighted

There’s a new text waiting for him. It’s from Steve of course, and it’s vaguely threatening as most messages from Steve are these days. Still Danny ignores it, and now he’s really playing with fire. Maybe it’ll burn the cold out of him.

Or, Danny’s sick, and Steve can’t stay away. The usual comfort fluff. With a little cameo from a gently meddling Grace.

An Unexpected Guide: @/Rachel500

Danny Williams has hidden his Guide status to keep being a detective, but his time of hiding is up when he unexpectedly finds his Sentinel, Steve McGarrett in the midst of a tragedy.

March

Why don’t we (Collide the spaces that divide us): @five-wow

When they finally catch sight of each other again through the milling crowds, they’re both a little worse for wear. Danny’s left side is covered in glitter and every time he brushes a hand over his hair, more blue and purple confetti rains down. Steve is- Well, Steve is randomly shirtless, which is all things considered not excessively remarkable, but he’s also covered in smudges of colorful paint and has a very nicely printed bloodred lipstick kiss mark on his cheek.

“What did you do?” Danny asks, because it looks like Steve had a lot more fun than he did.

Or: Steve and Danny accidentally end up in the middle of something entirely new.

A Little Unsteady: @finduilasclln

Written for the Tumblr prompt meme : "Hey! I was gonna eat that!"

Tony lashes out at Bucky for eating his dessert. Only, it really isn't about the dessert.

a national treasure: @starklysteve

Steve isn't looking for an apple and Tony decides his passion is to inspire young souls. -x- OR: the AU where Tony is a Youtuber and Steve is Captain America and somehow they still save the world together.

April

cycle through: @ambivalentmarvel

Twenty-five years ago, Tony Stark disappeared from his family home a month after the tragic deaths of his parents, Howard and Maria Stark, leaving a billion-dollar tech conglomerate without an heir and the world wondering what happened.

Twenty-three years ago, HYDRA gained another super soldier.

Ten years ago, Peter Parker’s parents died in what is ruled as a home invasion gone wrong but he knows was murder, plain and simple, because he spoke to the killer.

And in the present, Project Insight fails, and the Iron Soldier pays the price.

FOREVER-LOVE YOU-I: @/Eudoxia

Tony Stark is twenty-one when he loses his voice. It shouldn't matter, but in a world where the first words your Soulmate says to you are marked on your skin, it can be pretty damn annoying.

Especially for Tony's soulmate.

Companion piece to my fic Thumb, Index, and Pinky Extended. This is Steve's POV, with a few extra scenes, as a treat.

(Edit: Sorry if you guys get multiple notifications for this. I just realized (about two hours after posting it) that I fucked up the grammar in the title and I HAD to fix it. YOLO, I guess.)

come build a home out of me: @maguna-stxrk

Steve clears his throat.

“What if I went with you?” he asks nonchalantly, like his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his ribcage.

Tony blinks a few times, looking at Steve, his mouth ajar. “As a— As my date?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods, feeling a little breathless.

“You don’t mind?” Tony furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t. In fact, you can just tell them I’m your boyfriend. I’m sure they’ll back off, wouldn’t they?”

What.

“I— Huh?” Tony stares at him, brown eyes blown wide open.

What. What. What.

“Huh? Uh, I mean— You know, that way people will see that you have definitely moved on. Monica will see that you have moved on. Right?” Steve smiles, hoping that it masks his inner panic, because what?

Steve Rogers, what have you done?

i don’t have a choice (but i’d still choose you): @nethandrake

There’s a name inked onto his chest, a name written in an all-too familiar scrawl. And it’s— It’s—

Steve doesn’t realize his body is quaking until he’s tracing the tattoo with a shaky finger.

Because of course that is the name etched into the skin. Like a brand, a reminder for everything he has done. An appropriate retribution.

Anthony Edward Stark.

(When Thanos snaps half of the universe away, he unknowingly leaves the other half with soulmarks.)

ua haʻalele ʻoe iaʻu (a ua hoʻomālamalama ʻoe iaʻu): @just-fandomthings

"The truth is, I was shot in the chest and nearly died, and not even three days after I was released from the hospital, you up and left-- and of those two, I'm not sure which one hurt me worse!"

(Coda to 10x22 because come on, we all need a better ending than the one given to us.)

Title loosely translates to: "You left me in the dark (you lit me up)" -- inspired by the brilliant song "Say You Won't Let Go" by James Arthur

May

A Piece Of The Past: @hddnone

It had been so many years since Bucky had gone undercover in the Stark family's mob, he thought he'd gotten away clean.

Then Tony Stark slid into the seat across from him at his breakfast diner, and Bucky's boss has a new case for him.

the privilege of loving you: @starklysteve

“Why won’t you let me touch you?”

It’s a desperate plea, half-shouted and half-whispered, Steve’s voice cracking at the end. Tony stops in his tracks, halfway to the stairs. He doesn’t dare to turn back, and he really doesn’t want to fight, or to leave, to spend the last month of his life away from his husband and their son. But Steve can’t know, can he?

-x-

Or: Tony has palladium poisoning, but he doesn't tell Steve and Peter

your pillow feels so soft now (but still you must advance): @firebrands

When Bruce is 13, he decides to go to boarding school. It's an opportunity for him to learn about other people, and how to interact with them.

Bruce has the misfortune of meeting Tony Stark upon his arrival in Roxbury. Bruce is moving into his room, and Tony opens the door of his room to watch. He looks a bit younger than Bruce, hair wild and eyes bright. Bruce has never seen a boy like him before—handsome and confident.

Bruce doesn’t like it.

IMPORTANT: This fic has them meeting at 14, then progresses slowly until they’re 17. Includes underage drinking and kissing.

This is set before Bruce becomes Batman and Tony becomes Iron Man and I have no explanation as to how or why they just DO Canonically, Bruce is 17 when he finishes school and goes around the world to train, so we're sticking with that

The Real MVP: @sword-and-stars (part of a series)

[“I have saved this Tuesday!” Sokka announces, rattling the bag upon reentry.

Zuko doesn’t even look up from his phone as he deadpans, “It’s Thursday.”

Okay, so Sokka is still having trouble getting his days right without checking. At least he’s gone back to sleeping at night! Going to bed at night is way easier when you have a cute, cuddly boyfriend who starts falling asleep around eleven o’clock. It also helps that he and Zuko are on solid gold butt-touching terms.

It’s been a while since Sokka has been on butt-touching terms with someone and it’s amazing.]

Or,

Sokka knows a guy, gets laid, and introduces Zuko to the merits of an afternoon delight.

When is a bed not a bed? (When you’re not in it): @riotwritesthings

There’s a tiny safe house, with one tiny window and one tiny couch.

And one tiny little bed.

June

Nice Fingers: @anthonyed

A single compliment given by Tony stirs Bucky restless until he caves in and asks him out on a date.

With Steve’s help of course (whether he likes it or not).

The Darkest Touch: @starkrogerrs

This is the story of how Steve finds that it has been ordained that he is to marry a monster he cannot resist aka the God of Love himself, Tony.

It's Cupid x Psyche retold, but with thrice the amount of porn.

The Night Shift: @weethreequarter

Welcome to the Emergency Department of San Antonio General where Dr. Tony Stark joins the team fresh from his most recent tour in Afghanistan and - much to the consternation of the other staff - strikes up an instant rapport with Nurse Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, new resident Bruce Banner refuses to give up on his patient, and Dr. Sharon Carter learns something from her own patients. Throw in a pissed off hospital administrator, Clint using the coffee pot as a mug again, and a major car crash and you have, well, just another night shift.

Wind Beneath My Wings: @iam93percentstardust

Sam first meets Tony Stark in 2005 when he joins the EXO-7 Falcon program.

In jest: @/apathyinreverie

“No, babe,” Danny shakes his head with a grin. “If the apocalypse were to go down while I’m elsewhere for some godforsaken reason, then you stay put and I’m coming to wherever you are.” His grin widens. “And I expect you to have cleared any aliens or zombies or whatever else might be messing with us off the island and to have set up a nice, comfortable military dictatorship for us to rule over by the time I get back.”

It’s a joke.

Of course it’s a joke.

Until it isn’t.

(A the-day-after-tomorrow-style apocalypse AU, where the world decides to end right when Danny is visiting one of the other islands with Grace. Because, of course, it does.)

#adi's rec list #mcdanno #stevetony #buckytony #brucetony #rhodeytony #zukka #samtony #january - june #there's so many different ships on this #and different authors #and it spans three fandoms #so hopefully you guys enjoy this!!

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