#i feel like tony might be the wrong choice

[bucks-babe]

hi!! i’ve had this concept in my head for a while and i love your writing style so i thought you would be perfect to ask. so reader is new to the compound, like helping out in the lab but not necessarily on the team, and because of that when she tries forming relationships with people on the team she’s kind of pushed to the side. bucky sees this and feels for her since he was kind of treated the same when he was new, so he starts becoming friends with her and building a relationship with her. then he starts involving her in things the team does like dinners or movie nights. and when they’re around each other the team can obviously see that they like each other as more than friends. you can develop it more from there but that’s kind of the base line for my idea!!

Pairing: Bucky x f!reader

Summary: Being new to the compound isn’t easy, luckily you have a supersoldier on your side

Warnings: Slight angst, fluff, reader wears glasses (no other description of reader though), Bucky thinks reader is cute, Tony is kind of a huge dick, vague implications of smut but no smut (blink and you’ll miss it), I suck at endings, they are in love, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 2.780k

“Hey, uh, Glasses, I need you to run these samples for me.” You look up and see Tony walking into the lab, straight to your table. You look around, not sure if he was talking to you, but you’re alone in the lab, given that it was almost midnight, but you had to finish the reports from the samples that Steve dropped off in the morning.

You were swamped in work, not even taking a lunch break, desperate to finish everything so that you could go back to your room in the compound and take a shower. It felt like you’ve been stuck in the lab for days on end. The Avengers having back to back missions and you being the only lab tech without a family to go home to, you were stuck working insane hours.

“Mr. Stark, can these wait until the morning? I'm still working on the reports from Captain Rogers.” Tony heaves a great sigh, clearly exasperated by your reluctance to do his work, knowing damn well he can run these samples a lot quicker with the help of F.R.I.D.A.Y. but he just doesn’t want to. Might as well make the overworked lab tech do it.

“The old man can wait until tomorrow for his report, just get mine done. If he has a problem, he can take it up with me. Goodnight, Penny.” And just like that, he walks off. You know for sure that he didn’t hear you correct him when he got your name wrong. Honestly, where did he even get Penny from? You’re so stressed you feel like you could cry, which pisses you off more. It made you feel weak when you would cry when you were frustrated but you couldn’t help it.

It's been like this since you got the job at the compound. At first you thought that this would be an amazing opportunity, getting to work side by side with the Avengers. In reality, you stay cooped up in the lab most of the day, getting overworked, and only see the Avengers when they stop by to give you more work. 

Of course, you understand that being a superhero is hard work, but a little courtesy goes a long way. It would be a nice change of pace if someone acknowledged your efforts. You push Steve’s reports to the side and start working on Tony’s samples, knowing that this is going to take all night, but you don’t really have a choice. It needs to be done and you’re the only one in the lab.

The sound of the door opening jolts you awake, a piece of paper stuck to your face with drool. “Hey, do you have those reports for me?” You groan and look at Steve. The clock on the wall reads 6:03 AM, ever the early riser, Steve is. You must have fallen asleep sometime last night trying to finish the work Tony gave you, which is just as incomplete as Steve’s reports.

“Sorry, Captain Rogers, Mr. Stark gave me an urgent request that needed priority.” You keep your head down, ashamed to look at him. 

“I gave you those samples in the morning. How are the reports not done?” He has his hands on his hips with the disappointed father's look on his face, making you feel even worse. You really are trying your best, but you’re burnt out and can't do everything at once.

“I’m sorry, I’ll have them done by early afternoon. I can drop them off if you’d like?” God, you feel so stupid! Steve just waves you off with a “I’ll come back after lunch for them” and leaves you to your own thoughts.

You get Steve’s reports done before lunch and continue to work on finishing Tony’s when the lab doors open again. Without looking up you slide Steve’s reports to him. “They’re done Captain Rogers.” 

“It’s not Steve.” You push your glasses up on your nose and see Bucky standing before your table, quite awkwardly as well, shuffling on his feet with his right hand in his pocket, left hanging down limply at his side.

“Sergeant Barnes, how can I help you?” You’ve always had a crush on Bucky, but he was the only Avenger who hasn’t come into your lab - ever. Matter of fact, he avoids the lab like the plague, which is understandable given that he was experimented on for years. 

“It’s my arm, I can’t move it.” After a few seconds of silence he adds on, “The metal one. Usually, I can recalibrate it myself but I think it has something to do with the plates.” He looks so vulnerable; Bucky’s not used to asking for help, rather always helping someone else.

“I can take a look at it if you want.” You assume that’s why he came down to the lab, not just to chit chat with you. He nods and you lead him to a lab chair. “Can you take your shirt off for me?” Bucky’s eyebrows hit his hairline and his jaw drops. “I need to see your arm, Sergeant.” Now both of you are blushing.

It takes him a little while but he gets his shirt off and stares at the floor, embarrassed of the scars surrounding his arm. “Can I touch your arm, Sergeant?” Bucky eyes widen; he’s not used to someone asking permission to touch his arm. If he doesn’t wear his gloves in public, people will stare and point, some even trying to touch his hand to get a better look at the silver arm. Bucky hates it: the arm, the stares, the scars, everything.

He mumbles a confirmation and watches you work on his arm. He thinks you’re cute, with glasses that make your eyes look slightly magnified and how you stick your tongue out when you concentrate. You’ve always hated your glasses, thinking that they make you look bug eyed, but Bucky thinks that it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. There are bags under your eyes, which makes Bucky frown. Stark is overworking you.

After a few minutes you look up and see Bucky staring at you and you both quickly look away. “One of the plates near your shoulder came loose and disrupted the signal to the rest of the arm. That’s why you couldn’t move it. It’s fixed now and you should be good to go, Sergeant.”

 Before Bucky could say anything, Tony enters. “Penn, those reports done yet or are you too busy with Terminator over there?” You ignore Bucky’s confused who’s Penn? and give Tony the finished half of his reports, hoping against hope that he won’t tear you a new one in front of Bucky.

“Uh, Glasses, where is the other half?” 

“I didn’t get to them all last night and then Captain Rogers needed his reports this morning. I’m sorry, Mr. Stark.” Not only did you not finish Tony’s reports on time, but you were also late with Steve’s, on top of getting minimal sleep and not eating. The humiliation is seeping through your pores. You’re letting your idols down in real time, seeing their disappointment right in front of you.

“I told you to prioritize my samples, not Rogers.” Bucky is still in his chair, watching, ready to jump to your defense. He doesn’t like the way Tony is talking to you. Little do you know, but Bucky sometimes comes down to the lab to watch you work, never entering, God no. He’d look like a creep. But the sweet lab tech caught his attention the moment you arrived.

“I know, but I fell behind and Captain Rogers said-”

“I don’t care what Rogers said. I told you-” 

“Back off Stark, if you want them done, do it yourself.” Bucky was pissed; you are too sweet for your own good, letting people boss you around and bending over backwards for them. Not when Bucky is around.

Before Tony can continue to argue with Bucky, F.R.I.D.A.Y. calls him away for a meeting, leaving you and Bucky in the lab alone. “Sergeant Barnes, you didn’t have to do that. Those reports should have been done anyway; it was my fault.” How pathetic is it to have someone you hardly know see your faults.

“He shouldn’t be talking to you like that, doll. You’re only one person and you're doing your best.” He’s a lot closer to you now and you can smell his cologne, making your head feel all fuzzy. “Thank you for helping me with my arm, too.”

“Thank you for letting me, Sergeant, I know that was difficult for you.” You’re looking up at him through your thick frames, eyes larger than they actually are, bags under your eyes, but Bucky thinks you’ve never been prettier. Or maybe it’s because he’s never seen you up close, but you are the most gorgeous woman he’s ever seen, 40’s or not.

“Call me Bucky.”

After that, Bucky was in the lab almost everyday. For a while he would claim to have some strange ailment until you told him that he didn’t have to feign injury to visit, which made him blush. He would spend his lunch in the lab, making sure that you were eating, too. Bucky is a very observant man, and on his trips to the lab, before he first talked to you, he would see how overworked you were and how you barely ate. 

He made it his mission to keep you well fed and get you out of the lab at a decent hour, giving a death glare to agents trying to drop off samples after a certain hour. 

Outside of the lab, Bucky was your only friend at the compound; although, he’s never hand fed Steve in bed while watching old movies. Bucky felt comfortable around you, even more so than with Steve. Bucky and you had a special bond - he would confide in you when you would both be awake at the unholy hours of night and you would do the same. He trusted you not to tell anyone else and, to him, it was easier to talk to you than Steve.

Steve had a tendency to look at Bucky as if he was a sick puppy, and Bucky hated that, he hated the pity. He didn’t want to be treated like precious glass, and you allowed him to be vulnerable without making him feel like he was falling apart.

Some nights you both would fall asleep in bed together and wake up entangled, those nights were Bucky’s favorites. You were so soft and even though you were so much smaller than him, you made him feel safe and protected. His sweet doll in his bed, keeping the nightmares away. 

He loved the way you would squint and search for your glasses on the stand next to the bed, whining when you accidentally knocked them to the floor, or stabbed yourself in the eye trying to put them on. 

The entire dynamic of your friendship changed one night. Bucky doesn’t know who moved first, but the two of you kissed, and Bucky can’t remember kisses ever being so good. The two of you only kissed that night, nothing further, but it was the best night that either of you had in a long while. From that day on, he was your old man and you were his old lady.

You both decided to keep your relationship a secret for the time being. You didn’t want the other lab techs to think you were getting special treatment and Bucky didn’t want to deal with the teasing from Sam or the questions from Steve. But Bucky loathed when he would be forced by Steve to join movie nights, alone, without you. Steve wanted what was best for his friend so he would force Bucky to get out more; little did Steve know that Bucky had the best girl waiting for him to come over.

He could tell that you were let down whenever he had to participate in “team bonding.” You wanted to be valued by the team, yet you understood why they never invited you; you weren’t an Avenger, just a lowly lab tech. Nonetheless, it broke Bucky’s heart to see you so despondent, which is why he asked you to join the next movie night, team be damned.

“Come on, doll, it will be fun. I promise.” Bucky holds you close to his chest, laying down next to you under the covers. You roll over, naked chest to naked chest, body still shaking, and bury your face in his neck, breathing him in.

“I’m not even a part of the team, Jamie. What will all your teammates think, huh? The great Bucky Barnes and the weird lab tech: A perfect match. No, they won’t.” Bucky gently grabs both sides of your face, both metal and flesh warm from previous activities, and makes you look him in the eye. 

He’s a little blurry since you aren’t wearing your glasses. The lenses would smush against your face everytime he would kiss you with anything more than a chaste kiss, and Bucky Barnes is a passionate kisser in bed. At your slight squint, he pulled you closer to his face so you could see him clearly; blue eyes holding nothing but the utmost love and devotion.

“I don’t give a damn what the team thinks, you hear me? You are my doll and I want to show you off. My sweet little lab tech who’s too kind for her own good. Let them all know how perfect you are.” Your resolve is crumbling like it does every time he looks at you. It is an overwhelming feeling, being the light of someone’s life, being showered with so much love you feel like you can’t breathe, but each breath fills up your lungs with joy and hope.

Bucky nuzzles his nose against yours and you both know you’ll say yes. You’d follow him to the ends of the earth, just as he would for you. “Okay, Jamie, I will, for you.”

Movie night is a week later and you’re on Bucky’s lap where he sits on the recliner. It’s his unofficial seat whenever Steve forces him to these things, stuck in the corner of the room away from everyone else with no seat next to him. At first, no one notices you on Bucky’s lap, curled up into him with tangled limbs not able to tell where Bucky begins and you end. 

Steve is the first to notice, doing a double take at the extra bulk in Bucky’s seat, and just as Bucky is observant, so is Steve. Steve had a suspicion that there was something more to Bucky’s disappearances during lunch and the extra food he would take after dinner. Steve just smiles to himself and faces the movie once more, every so often glancing back at the two lovebirds in their own world.

Bucky has no clue what movie they are watching, his sole focus is on you. You had a long day in the lab, yet you held true to your word to join movie night with him, but being curled up in Bucky’s arms was your favorite place to be and before long you were sound asleep, holding onto his metal arm, using it as a pillow. As gently as he could, Bucky took off your glasses and put them atop his head, falling asleep himself before the movie was halfway over.

Sam was the second to notice, and let the rest of the team know as well. “OH. MY. GOD. Tony, where is my phone? I can’t believe this.” The rest of the team look at each other in confusion, following Sam’s line of sight, they see you wrapped up in Bucky’s arms, the both of you sound asleep. 

“Is that…Glasses?” Comes from Tony.

“She’s so cute!” Slips from Wanda.

“Who’s Glasses?” is followed by a slap from Nat with a hissed “Thor, shut up, they’re sleeping!”

“Tony, my phone! I need evidence.”

“Terminator’s getting laid?”

“We’re watching Indiana Jones, Stark.” 

“Thor, inside voice, we’ve talked about this.”

The teasing from the team is endless the next day, but Bucky doesn’t have it in him to care, he has his sweetheart by his side and they know better than to provoke Bucky. Coincidentally, Tony offers to take some of his samples back to test them himself; Bucky insists that he must have had a change of heart, you don’t believe it for one second, but Bucky will never admit to anything. After all, he has to take care of his sweet girl. 

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic

[maxislvt]

Have A Merry Little Christmas

Request: WandaNat and reader cuddling and watching holiday movies on Christmas eve night. An extensive kissing scene comes on and the reader starts to squirm, which gets the attention of wandanat.

Warnings: Smut, Mommy Kink, Daddy Kink, Threesomes, penises, pregnancy

A/N: This basically solidifies that every fic in this event is either pure filth or the cutest thing you'll ever read on my blog and that's just so me!

Event Masterlist

❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃

As much as the three of you loved going big for the holidays, there were times when you and your lovers simply wanted peace. Sure, dressing up and getting wasted at one of Tony's parties was fun, but nothing could beat being wrapped up in the arms of two beautiful women and being treated like the most precious thing in the whole galaxy. Wanda on your left and Natasha on your right, the usual setup for a movie night. They had already gone through the trouble of getting snacks and picking out all the movies you'd be watching that might. You were practically reduced to a human teddy bear for the night.

Not that you were complaining. Wanda and Natasha had always made a big show of spoiling you any way they could. All throughout the night, you were kissed and praised for the slightest thing. It made your heart warm. The warmth of your heart seemed to spread to the heat of cunt a lot faster than you'd like to admit. With Wanda's choice of a rather explicit Christmas movie and the constant touch, if it was no surprise you'd get wet. You didn't want to ruin the holiday cheer and just kept it to yourself.

Your lovers knew you too well. It was part of their plan, to begin with, but you could never hide your neediness from them. One low whimper from your mouth and they'd be on you in seconds.

"Oh Wanda, I think someone's really enjoying the movie," Nat chuckled before placing a kiss again. "It's pretty late, I think it's time to give them that gift we made." Her words were punctuated with more kisses along your neck and jawline. A familiar hardness began forming in her pants as she rubbed against you. "I think you're gonna love it, malysh. It's something you've always wanted." Natasha's hands grew bolder as they explored your body.

Wanda hummed in agreement as she rubbed her crotch against your thigh. "I think you're right, our little puppy has been so good this year. One early present won't hurt." Wanda took the job of kissing the other side of your face and neck. Hers were much softer than Natasha's. More focused on getting you to relax than marking you up. "Isn't that fair, puppy? Just one gift before Christmas morning. We promise you'll like it," She said in a mocking tone.

You helplessly tried to squirm away from the strong hands grabbing at your body. "N-no, I'm fine! We can keep watching the —" Any attempts to argue were immediately stifled by the searing kiss Wanda pulled you into. Wanda's heavy tongue invaded your mouth while Nat began trailing kisses down your stomach. All the strength in your body was needed to pull away from Wanda just for a second. "I wasn't being needy, I promise!"

Wanda raised her eyebrows in shock. "Oh, really? Why don't we check?" She held up one of your legs, exposing your cloth-covered heat. "Let daddy touch you and we'll find out fair and square." Her nails dig into your skin to keep you from closing your legs. "You're getting your gift either way, but you know how we feel about liars."

Natasha shook her head. Even with the barrier of her fingers, your cunt had practically covered her fingers in slick. "Oh, baby you're soaking. There's no need to hide it." She kissed your pussy over your underwear before pulling them off. Two of her fingers slipped inside you with ease. "There's nothing wrong with being needy, that's what we're here for baby."

Wanda's other hand snaked down to play with your clit. Rubbing it in slow, tight circles just to hear you whine and beg for more. "That's right, just let us make it better. We just want you extra happy for Christmas." Her lips went back to attacking your neck "Just keep being good and everything will feel so good!"

You could only whimper and nod along. Unable to think for yourself, just letting yourself be marked and stretched. "Wanna…wanna cum," You said, barely stringing the words together in a comprehensive sentence. The feeling of two more of Natasha's fingers stretching your sopping wet cunt nearly sent you into orgasm. Your hand clamped over your mouth to prevent any more obscene noises from coming from your body, only to be snatched away by Natasha.

"Nope, none of that. Mommy and Daddy won't know they're doing a good job if you hold back." Natasha curled her fingers against your g spot, finally letting you fall into the ocean of pure bliss. She wanted you to drown in it. No matter how many times you tried squirming away from her fingers or tugging at her shirt, her fingers never stopped. "I know it's a lot but you're gonna need to be extra wet for our gift, puppy."

It was only by the grace of Wanda's lust that you were freed from Natasha's torture. "Let mommy have a turn and then you'll get your gift. I promise!" In one swift motion, Wanda turned you around to face her. "Just one taste." Greed had clearly over the plan the two originally played out as Wanda spent what felt like hours eating you out. The nerve endings on your clit were assaulted by both her tongue and fingers.

Wanda's tongue easily forced out two orgasms before she was done eating you out. You were thankful for the few minutes you were given to recover. "Thank you, momma. Thank you, daddy." Words were barely above a whisper but it was all you could get out before your brain short-circuited. You could only make a confused face and let out a "Hm?" When Wanda pulled you into her lap.

"It's time for our special puppy to get their little gift!" Wanda smiled before peppering your confused face with kisses. Her hand reached in between your bodies and guided the tip of her dick around your clit. "I know you're still sensitive, but you're a good puppy. Mommy knows you can take it." Wanda slid inside of your cunt and bottomed out in almost record time.

Natasha pushed you forward a bit. "And now you get the extra fun part." She peppered your cheek with kisses before slipping her dick inside of you. A deep groan came from her as she pushed as far in as she could. "God, this little hole was made for having babies." Her hips slowly began to thrust in sync with Wanda's and she grinned.

If you weren't so cock-drunk and full, you would've noticed the way Wanda slapped Nat's arm and reprimed her for almost ruining your surprise. Instead, you enjoyed the feeling of being stuffed and stretched out. Mindlessly bouncing on your lovers' dicks with much concern for how late it was becoming. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum again!"

Wanda smiled. "Go ahead, make a big mess for your mommy and daddy! You're gonna make us so proud!" She groped your hips and pulled you closer to her. Having you sandwich between her and Natasha was forever a blissful experience, but not one of them would ever compare to how important this instance would be. "You better hope your daddy can hold it for three more minutes or she'll ruin the gift. Then the two of us will have to punish her, won't we?"

It seemed you liked the idea of a little revenge because your walls tightened unreasonably around your partners. "Fuck, I don't think either of us are gonna last if they keep pulling shit like that." Nat was practically rutting into you at that point. Her stamina was at its peak and not even the threat of Wanda's punishment could break her need to cum. "Be easy on me, just 2 more minutes."

Your brain barely processed Wanda's threats. Her words were far too big and long for your fluffy little head to understand. "No punishment…just wanna be full." You grabbed both of your partners' hands and signaled them to press down on the bulge in your stomach. The second your lovers fulfilled your wish, you came for the fifth time that night.

The rapid clenching and fluttering of your walls sent both of your lovers into orgasms of their own. They coated your insides with sticky white cum they'd been holding in for days. Their bodies moved as one in an attempt to prolong the bliss you three were captured in. Natasha was the first to collapse and Wanda didn't follow much longer after.

"Merry Christmas, malysh."

"We're gonna be a family."

#pvntherz #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda fanfic #natahsa romanoff #natasha smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff #natasha fanfiction #wandanat x reader #panther's 12 days of Christmas

[toomanyfandomsimfanvergent]

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter worries about you when you return home from a mission bleeding and bruised.

Reader Info: ExWidow!Reader, Stark!Reader, Female!Reader

----------------------------------------------------------

"I'm fine," you mumble on the quinjet as Bucky finishes stitching up the knife wound on your shoulder.

"You'll live but you need to rest. And I've already told your dad," he informs you. All hopes of having acted like nothing was wrong went out the window.

"Did he freak out?" You ask. Knowing your father there were only two possible reactions: freaking out or being oddly calm. Never an inbetween.

"I told him it was barely considered a stab wound," Bucky replies as the quinjet docks.

The doors open and you step out. Peter runs to you and wraps you in a hug. You could tell he was worried by the way he refuses to stop hugging you when you're dad impatiently waits for his turn.

"I heard you got stabbed and I freaked out because getting stabbed is a really bad thing and I hate it when you go on these missions," peter rambled nervously as he let you go to hug your dad.

Tony have you a quick hug before letting you go back to hugging Peter.

"I'm fine, just a little sore and in need of a shower," you say and peter grans your hand as you two walk back into the Avengers Base.

You and Peter walk to your room in silence. Just relishing in the others company. Peter could tell you were to exhausted to actually have a conversation so he decided to wait until tomorrow to fill you in on everything. You hadn't missed much in the two days you had been gone.

Peter opens the door for you and you walk in before he shuts it behind the two of you. You grab one of his shirts that had been left in your room along with a pair of bike shorts before walking into your bathroom.

Peter sat on your bed as you showered. All of his anxiety about what might have happened or could happen to you was gone. Waiting for you to come back had been hell. The not knowing was the worst.

How badly were you injured? Were you even alive? Those were the thoughts that had been running through his head for the last fourty-eight hours.

After a few minutes of sitting on your bed Peter sees you walk out of the bathroom. You don't hesitate to wrap your arms around him. His head rests against your stomach as he wraps his arms around your waist.

"I'm sorry you were so worried," you said as you ran your fingers through his hair.

"I hate it when you're gone," he mumbles against your stomach. You feel horrible for putting him through the pain of not knowing, but you don't have another choice. You were the best person for reaching widows (other than nat).

"I know, I love you," you say and he lays back, pulling you onto the bed with him.

"I love you to," he says as you two find a comfortable position in each other's arms.

#peter parker angst #peter parker fanfic #peter parker #peter parker fic #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x reader fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader angst #peter parker imagine

[hotreadingwitch]

MADE TO LIE - the drive

BUCKY 

Bucky woke up early that morning, his unnatural body bouncing back easily despite the amount of alcohol he’d consumed mere hours ago. Looking at the ticking hands of his old-fashioned clock with a huff, he got up and put on his running gear before heading outside. When he was stressed like this, when that ball of feeling inside him threatened to boil over and ruin the entire life he’d built from the ground up since he’d reconnected with Steve, running was the only thing that helped. The secluded property Tony owned was free for their use at all times and it was on days like this where he was particularly grateful that he could complete five laps around the acres and acres of surrounding forest. 

Stopping in the middle of the woods, his heart beating hard, though not from running, Bucky pulled out his phone. 

“I’m scared Doc” Bucky’s quiet admission filled the silence when Dr.Pashia picked up. 

“Scared of what exactly Bucky?” She questioned, her calm voice soothing his racing heart, despite the fact that he was calling her unprompted at 5 o’clock in the morning. 

“You know” he gulped. 

“I do” she answers sagely, “But I’d like to hear you say it. I think it would be more helpful for you that way, don’t you think?” 

“I’m scared of what I’m feeling, of the thoughts I’m having…” his voice was thick. 

“Yes, and what else?” 

“Y/n is so special and I’m scared the closer I get to her the more potential I have to hurt her. We started this mission on the wrong foot and I’ve already harmed her just by trying to keep my distance. I keep fucking up and I’m scared it’s only going to get worse the closer we get” he gulped before confessing, “…You know how long I’ve liked her” 

Dr.Pashia was silent, prompting him to continue. 

“I’m worried that it—that everything I’ve been through has taken all the good out of me. And she deserves someone better than me, I know it” 

“I believe that’s Y/n’s choice to make”

He swiped his hand over his mouth in frustration. 

“I—I’ve got to go—” Bucky strained before moving to end the call. 

“Bucky?” Her voice crackled through the line with a small sigh, “I know this all feels like too much for you to handle but before you go, I want to remind you of who you are and who you’ve been, and no, I don’t mean the Winter Soldier. Remember you’re a good man, a good soldier, a good brother, a good son, a good teammate, and a good friend. Please don’t forget that you are good and deserve to be happy despite what you might think and no matter what you’ve done.”

“Thanks, Doc, as always” 

“You’re welcome Bucky” 

Taking a deep, shaky breath he shut down the call before taking the long walk back to the compound. 

Y/N 

Y/n’s alarm went off and she was quickly awakened from her groggy slumber. She slapped her hand over her phone to turn off its incessant buzzing. Past the large windows, Y/n could see the grassy terrain just outside of the compound as well as the large forest and small lake beyond. She sat up, stretching her body before getting out of bed to get herself ready for the day ahead.

When she finally stood, she felt as if her head was going to explode, her vision going slightly blurry around the edges. She knew she and Bucky would be driving down to the city today and yet she’d drank as much as she did last night anyway, without a care in the world. The truth was it was all the caring that had made her drink that much in the first place…and now she was suffering the consequences. 

“Fuck” she grumbled to herself before slipping into a cozy outfit. 

~

“Morning” Y/n announced as she walked into the gray modern kitchen of the compound, wincing as her cheery tone rang loudly in her ears. 

“Ugh” Wanda groaned back as she saw her friend enter the room, “Not so loud, please” 

“How many times have I told you both to pace yourselves? To not drink so much?” Natasha chided with an eye roll. 

“It’s not our fault that you’re somehow biologically immune to vodka” 

“It’s more of a talent than a genetic thing really” she quipped back before wiggling her eyebrows at Y/n, “Excited for today? 

“Not exactly…” Y/n paused over her bowl of cereal. 

“What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?” Wanda pressed, her head tilting, “Don’t you want to get to know your new partner in crime?”

“Well, I guess I hadn’t thought of it like that” Y/n replied pensively. She had been so focused, first, on her anger at Bucky for being so rude and then on the new budding feeling inside her. She hadn’t even considered today could be an opportunity to learn more about the mysterious James Buchanan Barnes, “By the way, I haven’t had the chance to tell you both, last night—” 

A low, gruff voice from behind them interrupted their conversation, “Ready to go Y/n?”

Y/n turned her head to see the Bucky’s tall form lurking in the doorway to the kitchen. 

“You bet” she replied, trying to keep the atmosphere light between them despite the palpable tension. Y/n got up and headed towards the door, turning to her girlfriends and shooting them a nervous look before following him out towards the compound’s garage. Grimacing slightly at him, she added quietly, “As ready as I’ll ever be”

The garage was a very large white room with a slate gray floor and, of course, a gigantic Avengers logo mounted to the wall. Y/n rarely went in there except to get the jets for missions. She and Bucky walked past the rows of Avengers planes until they came to a door tucked away in the front corner that Y/n had somehow never noticed. It was the exact same colour as the wall and blended in seamlessly. Bucky unlocked it with a small silver key revealing a room full of vintage cars. 

“Wow” Y/n exclaimed at what she assumed was Tony’s collection, running her finger along the shiny side of a red convertible, “These are amazing”

“Well, this one is ours for the time being” Bucky gestured to a slick black car with silver accents. He caressed the car with an almost childlike wonder, taking in every detail of its exterior. Y/n had never seen him excited like this before, he was usually so closed off. 

“It’s a 1966 Ford Thunderbird”

“You like cars?” she assessed, smiling at him before slipping into the plush leather passenger seat. 

Bucky nodded, sliding in as well. As they backed out of the garage he gripped the wheel with his vibranium hand, the flesh one rested on the back of Y/n’s headrest. Y/n couldn’t help but inhale his scent as he leaned into her while he backed up. He smelt good and masculine like wood, smoke, and gunmetal all mixed together. 

As they drove away from the compound Y/n immediately became immersed in the scenery around them. The trees seemed to sway, beautiful with their various warm shades of red, orange, and yellow. Bucky stared at Y/n as she looked out the window, her knees tucked up to her chest. Her head then turned and she was startled to see Bucky’s blue-gray gaze fixated on her even as he drove. 

~1 hour later~

“We should listen to something” Y/n chirped. Bucky rolled her eyes but she ignored his grumpy response, quickly connecting her phone to the speaker, “Hmm let’s see. Well, what kind of music do you like?”

“I like 40s music so…” he replied.

“Any other decades?” Y/n laughed. 

Bucky gave her a stony look but remained silent. 

“60s? 70s? 80s?” She questioned but he continued to fight back with his silence. 

“Fine let’s go with the classics…” she thought aloud, “What about the Beatles?” 

“No” 

“Fleetwood Mac?”

“No” 

“Led Zeppelin?” 

“Maybe” 

“What about Marvin Gaye? Everybody loves Marvin Gaye” 

“I like Marvin Gaye” Bucky replied, earnestly. 

“Steve adores Marvin Gaye” she giggled, pushing him a bit further, grumbling, “You clearly don’t…”

His superhuman hearing picked up on her bait. 

“I like Marvin Gaye” he growled, practically pulling out the steering wheel with his tight grip. 

Though Bucky angry with his fists clenched should have scared Y/n it ended up doing the exact opposite. She broke out into a fit of laughter and couldn’t stop herself even when she saw Bucky’s eyebrows raise at her as if to say, what the hell. In a minute, however, his features softened. Somehow, even though she was technically making fun of him, the gentle laughter of the woman beside him made him smile, even if just a little. 

“Do you even know this song?” She quipped, continuing to playfully jab at him as she queued a track. 

Hey, hey, hey…Hey, what’s happening? Brother, what’s up? 

The intro to Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On rumbled through the car’s updated system that Tony had no doubt paid too much money to install. The sweet croon of the saxophone, followed by the artist’s mellow voice, acted like a balm to Y/n’s soul. Relaxing further into her cushiony, leather seat, she softly sang the first few lines. 

Mother, mother there’s too many of you crying. Brother, brother, brother there’s far too many of you dying. 

“So, do you?” She poked again, a small smile drifting onto her face, “You’ve got to know this one at least” 

“I know it”

“Thank goodness” she blew out an overly-dramatic breath in faux-relief, turning in her seat to smile at him. 

“You do know I was technically alive in the 70s don’t you?” Bucky chuckled with a knowing smirk.

“How old are you even? Exactly, I mean…” 

“I’m 98” he stated easily, “I’ll be 99 next March” 

“When’s your birthday?” 

“God” he groaned, “Please tell me you aren’t asking ‘cause you want to know my sign. Wanda cornered me when we first met to ask, I couldn’t get away from her for two whole hours. She did my entire birth chart” 

He said the last words with semi-disgust causing Y/n to chortle. 

“So you’re not going to tell me then” she sighed before guessing, “Well let’s think, you’ve already said you’re born in March so you’re either a Pisces or an Aries. Guessing by how emotionally unavailable you seem I’m going to go ahead and say Pisces” 

“Hey! That shit is scary…” he barely repressed a shiver, “I don’t get how you can know these kinds of things about people, from what, the stars?” 

“I like to think it’s fate, the way that we end up that is” 

“You believe in fate?” He scoffed. 

She gazed at him, affronted, “Yeah I do, you don’t?” 

“I learned a long time ago not to believe in things like that” 

A beat of silence passed between them. 

“Well start believing, old man” 

Bucky scoffed again before a smile slowly spread across his face, like he was trying to suppress it but was failing miserably. It took Y/n all her strength to tear her gaze away from the bright expression that had appeared in place of Bucky’s typical stormy, hard-edged gaze. Only when she finally found herself able to do so did she realize that Bucky was parking their car in the mostly empty parking lot of a building just off the side of the highway they’d been on for the last hour. The orange-neon sign stated that they were at “Milton’s Drive-In Diner”

As Y/n stepped into the diner, the jiggle of the bell attached to the door made her jump. It was so quiet otherwise, seemingly no one in the space other than a small older man tucked away toward the back counter and a pair of girlfriends who Y/n assumed might be going camping due to their large packs. Bucky placed a comforting hand on the small of her back, the act easing the tension between her shoulders that she hadn’t even realized was there. She relaxed even more when the smell of pies, pastries, and shitty coffee suddenly filled her nostrils. 

“Not quite a Parisian café but it’ll do” Bucky smirked toward her. 

“No, not quite” she joked back before admitting, “I might just like it better”

Bucky made no comment, though he didn’t need to, the rise of his eyebrow was enough. 

“Hello, hello” a cheery older woman, maybe in her mid-60s, with a Southern drawl called out from the kitchen, “Sit wherever y’all like” 

Bucky shuffled them over to a table in the corner opposite the one the older man seemed to be now passed out in. Y/n sat down at the booth, her hands rubbing curiously across the cracked vinyl of the seat below her.

“Y/n” Bucky said then, something about the soft way he said her name drawing her attention back to him. 

Sometimes she forgot just how handsome he truly was. 

“Yes?”

“Before we get to the city, I think we should talk more about the mission…We haven’t really discussed any of it since Tony assigned it to us” 

“Very good Barnes, I’m sure he would give you a gold star if he was here” she chuckled to herself. 

“I’m serious” he gritted out, “And it’s Bucky” 

Her mind flashed to the night of the party, nodding silently before sighing, a bitterness coating her tongue as she spoke, “Well Bucky, I know this mission goes against everything I believe in and yet because of you and Tony I’m doing it anyways. I also know that, for some unknown reason, you’re just somehow fine with everything. Care to explain?” 

He shook his head in disbelief, ice seeping into his sharp gaze.

“You’re not going to tell me why you’re okay with this are you?” 

“No,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“No?” she huffed, eyes narrowing, “Okay right, real good talk partner. Next time you want to have a real conversation Barnes remember that it takes two to tango” 

“You think I don’t know that” he spat back, lowering his voice to a deadly rumble, “Listen Y/n, there are reasons behind my choices that you’ll never know or understand okay? That doesn’t mean you get to say I’m not trying cause I am, believe me, this is the hardest thing I’ve had to do in years. I’m trying to do the right thing for once in my fucking life, to start fresh, to do anything other than what I’ve done in my past. So please believe me when I say that I am trying, I’m trying to be better for you…” 

The confession sat on the linoleum table between them. 

“Don’t you think we should’ve had this conversation before we even had sex?” Y/n whispered quietly, hating how vulnerable she sounded, surprised at the bundle of emotions that were suddenly spilling out, “We got assigned the mission and you hurt me by being cruel, we filmed the tape and you hurt me by acting like it was nothing, we watched the news spread like wildfire and you hurt me by forcing me to deal with the aftermath alone…All you’ve done is hurt me Bucky and it just sucks, you’re supposed to be my partner in this. I want you to be with me in this.” 

“I’m—” he started, peering down at her with clear regret, only to be interrupted by the old Southern belle from earlier, who was ready to take their order. 

“What can I get y’all? You driving down to the city? Bet you’re staying somewhere nice downtown from the looks of yous” 

“Two Club Sandwiches, a Coke for me and a chocolate milkshake for her” Bucky ordered off, purposefully ignoring the other question about their plans. 

When she left them again, Y/n grumbled, “So now you’re ordering for me” 

“Did I not get you what you wanted?” he asked, cocking a brow, the tension between them slowly dissipating. 

“You did, congratulations you’re an observant creep”

Bucky laughed at that which only pissed Y/n off because that low chuckle of his and that bright smile which was as infrequent as the Sun on a cloudy December day, made her shamelessly grin. 

When their food arrived after a few minutes they ate in companionable silence. Despite their talk, it wasn’t awkward, it was the kind of silence that they both knew came after the storm. And for two people who rarely shared their deepest fears to anyone, let alone someone who could use it against them, that moment of honesty was pouring rain indeed. 

“Just the bill now, thanks doll,” Bucky said when they were finally wrapping up at the diner, his eyes widening as he realized he had just accidentally flirted with the older waitress, calling her by the old-fashioned nickname. 

With a huff, he wrung his hands before opening his mouth to apologize. 

“No need to apologize sweet thing…” she interrupted him with a bright laugh, her peachy skin crinkling with the movement, “Haven’t had much attention since my husband George died just around three years ago now, you’ve done made my day” 

“Oh” he smiled awkwardly, “Well I’m glad to hear—” 

“Paula!” she interrupted again, tilting her head back to call her colleague, “Paula you won’t believe it, this young man here is flirting with me” 

Bucky hung his head and Y/n barely surpassed a snort as she mouthed ‘young man,’ prompting him to glare exasperated daggers at her. Another waitress, who Y/n figured must be Paula, craned her neck out from behind the floppy doors that led to the kitchen. 

“Is that so Daph?” She looked over before throwing a sultry wink at Bucky. 

“Oh Lord” he huffed quietly so that only Y/n could hear. 

When they got back to the car, Bucky caught her hand as it reached for the music dial. 

“Listen Y/n about what you said—” 

“Don’t bother” she responded, “It’s okay, I’m just being overly emotional…” 

It was okay to her in that moment, she didn’t even think she really needed to hear him say it. Just from the sorrow in his blue eyes, she knew he was sorry. 

“But I’m going to anyways…” he continued, “I’m sorry for how I treated you, how my actions made you feel. I never should’ve been so cold. Just because it’s how I operate when I’m nervous doesn’t mean you deserve to be on the other side suffering. I’m truly sorry Y/n and I hope you can forgive me eventually.”

“I do” she whispered before clearing her throat a speaking with more confidence, “Forgive you I mean, I do” 

He nodded roughly before cranking the key in the ignition and pulling out of the Milton’s Drive-In Diner parking lot. 

~

“We’re here,” Bucky said. 

Y/n glanced up at the tall building, admiring the carved white stone walls, the stained glass entrance and the fancy red carpet leading up to the doors. Bucky gave the car over to the valet before sweeping Y/n through the heavy doors and into the ornate lobby. They checked in quickly and then headed upstairs to their suite. 

The room was fancy, to say the least, French in style, and huge. There was a general living space just past the foyer the main set of doors opened to, multiple bathrooms, a study, and even a wide terrace that spanned the entire length of the suite. 

“Alright let’s get ready then” Y/n stated, the plush carpet beneath her feet muffling her steps as she searched, “Where are the bedrooms?”

She moved through the large main room and towards what appeared to be the only remaining door in the suite on the right-hand side. Her mouth parted slightly as she opened the double doors revealing one giant king-sized bed. 

“I’m gonna kill Stark” she growled through gritted teeth. 

“What is it?” Bucky questioned, coming up behind her so that his front was an inch from her back, “Oh”

The proximity sent a shiver up Y/n’s spine. She quickly shook off the memories of Bucky’s soft lips on her skin. 

“Well, anyway” she sighed distractedly before gesturing to the bedroom, “I’ll get ready in here, are you okay to use a bathroom?” 

He huffed before grabbing the bundle of his clothes for the night, “Sure”

Y/n closed the doors to the bedroom and unzipped the garment bag that contained her clothes for the date which she had let Wanda and Natasha pick out for her. Her fingers quickly caressed a dress made of silky red fabric, admiring its quality. She then gasped as she saw what was hanging in the bag underneath it. Instead of a regular bra and panties, the girls had selected a lacy black set of mostly sheer lingerie to go under her dress. “Oh for fuck’s sake” she breathed. 

“Almost ready?” called Bucky’s voice from the other side of the door.

Y/n quickly put the set on and slipped the dress on before realizing it needed to be done up at the back. “Yep!” She responded, “But can you zip me up?” 

Bucky’s lips parted slightly as Y/n opened the door. Her silky red dress hugged her curves in all the right places and they were only enhanced by the tall black heels that she was wearing. Y/n turned, exposing the super soldier to her mostly bare backside. Bucky’s eyes flitted from the exposed small of her back to her lacy black lingerie before focusing on the zipper. 

“Done” he asserted gruffly as Y/n heard the crisp sound of metal fastening. 

Despite Bucky’s past attitude towards her, Y/n couldn’t help her breath from hitching when his hands lingered a little too long on the small of her back.

“Let’s go,” she said, turning to face him. For a second they remained close, both of them breathing in the other before Bucky walked towards the foyer. 

“Right” he replied gruffly, before looking at her and smirking, “We’ve got a date to go on” 

A/N - if any of you were interested in where I got Bucky’s scent from, it was based on Tom Ford’s cologne called OudWood. 

Requested Tag List: cjand10 identity2212 bucky-jbb-sunshine unaxv hnnhbananananana

#fanfiction #fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfic #avengers compound #the avengers #marvel mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader

[infiniteeight8]

Might be hard to keep this one to 100 words so feel free to skip: Soulmate first meeting

Yeah, this was never going to be 100 words. LOL. That's a whole fic prompt right there. But I love soulmate AUs and my muse was in a happy place tonight, so have a 530 word ficlet.

-

Tony has seen his soulmark on other people’s skin more times than he can count. He never had a choice about it—Howard and his mom hadn’t been careful about it, so it had been thoroughly documented before he was old enough to understand the decision that had been made for him, nevermind make it himself.

With fame, money, and a very public mark come dozens of fake soulmates. He was a teenager the first time; Howard handled it. By the time Howard wasn’t around anymore, Tony had learned to assume that anyone with his soulmark was faking it. He was past the point of asking people to prove it was real. If someone showed up with his mark, he immediately cut off all contact and put his lawyers on it.

The press had fun with that. The fakers had mostly died down after a few years of lawsuits, but the press still liked to trot out Tony’s ‘uniquely cold and brutal treatment of a potential soulmate’ sometimes for fun. 

He’s given up on ever meeting his real soulmate. Sometimes, on bad days, he’s convinced he’s already sent them away.

Which is why it’s such a shock when Tony hauls an injured Doctor Strange to the infirmary and spots a familiar mark peeking out from behind torn and smoldering robes. 

Strange is unconscious, which is probably the only reason the mark is visible, damaged clothing aside. Tony lays him on the bed, which starts scanning him automatically, and stares at the mark for a long time.

It looks different, somehow. Every line of it is painfully familiar, but it still looks different from all the fake ones. Tony can’t help himself: he reaches out and touches it.

The moment his fingers make contact, a shock goes through him. Something deep inside Tony wrenches loose. No, no, that’s wrong, it’s not wrenching loose. No, something that he didn’t even know was missing is plugging itself into his soul. He gasps, feeling like lightning is running through his veins, and when he jerks his eyes up to Strange’s he sees that the Sorcerer is conscious now, and the same energy is sparking in his eyes. A scarred hand comes up to cover Tony’s on his chest.

“How does anyone convince themselves they can fake that?” Tony demands.

“Not everyone feels the connection when it forms,” Strange says. “That's why I didn’t tell you. I couldn’t bear the thought that you might not believe me. I was waiting until you trusted me. Until you knew me well enough to know I would never do that to you.”

“In that case, you could have told me ages ago,” Tony says, but he’s not angry. 

Strange—Stephen, Tony should call him Stephen now—flushes slightly, but doesn’t look away. “I might have been scared, too,” he admits.

Not of Tony’s reaction. He’s sure of that. No, Stephen was scared for the same reason Tony was: when you’ve adapted to isolation, making a connection is terrifying.

“You’re not scared anymore,” Tony says, because he’s not. The bond thrumming between them is the most amazing thing he’s ever felt.

Stephen smiles brilliantly. “No, I’m not,” he agrees

#IronStrange #ficlet

[sweeter-innocence-fics]

Surviving Sokovia - Chapter Sixteen

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Work Summary: 

You were a Sokovian orphan living on the streets of Novi Grad, until Strucker offered you a choice.

Now you are a part of his human experimentation programme, trying to survive an entirely different world of horrors. The kind boy with the beautiful eyes is the only thing that keeps you going.

This story contains dark themes. Please read the notes on chapter one for more details. Dialogue in {these brackets} is in Sokovian.

Chapter Summary: He's waiting for you.

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2793

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Taglist: @mcximffs @noz4a2 @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @lanemarvels @marrigold-2002 @kathrinchek @ifilwtmfc @officiallykuute @mrs-kai-anderson @ang3l1te @missryerye @rottenstyx @the-skys-musical-echo

Taglist info.

Previous Chapter

Notes:

hello I have a few notes for this one

1) sorry it's late, I was struggling with this fic last night so decided to leave it until the morning

2) it's NaNoWriMo, which means I will have less time for fic writing. I'm still aiming to upload the final chapter of this next monday but just wanted to warn you guys that there might be delays.

3) I am not Jewish but I do have Jewish heritage, so I did my best to research stuff about Jewish traditions, apologies if I got anything wrong

Warnings for smut, complicated feelings around religion, pregnancy stuff, mentions of injury, PTSD, detailed description of a foot massage(?)

---

There was a gentle tapping on the door. You smoothed your hands down your stomach, cradling your bump.

“Come in!” you called. The door opened behind you. In the mirror, you saw Wanda stepping into the room.

“{Are you ready?}” she asked. “{It’s time}.” You took a deep breath, and nodded.

Wanda had put far more work into today than you had, running between you and Pietro to ensure you both had everything you needed. Pietro had tentatively befriended some of the other Avengers, but you were shyer, so Wanda was all you had.

She took your hand in hers and squeezed it. “{You look beautiful. Come on. He’s waiting for you}.”

She led you out into a vestibule. On one side of you was a door to the outside, propped open to let in a cool breeze. On the other was a set of large double doors that Wanda opened a crack and then whispered something to someone on the other side.

After a moment, she beckoned you over.  The music started up as you linked arms with her and stepped through the doors into the small chapel.

Tony had kept his word. He was paying for everything. Granted, you were keeping the ceremony small, so there wasn’t much to pay for, but it was still a relief.

Pietro’s parents had been Jewish, but never particularly religious. He’d told you that they’d barely gone to temple when he was a child, and once they were gone, he’d had nothing to tie him to his faith. You’d asked him if that made him sad, and he just shrugged.

“{If there is some higher power, then He has a lot to answer for},” he had said.

You had never really been religious either. So you kept the ceremony mostly secular, with a few concessions to Pietro’s heritage.

He stood at the end of the aisle. Your heart stuttered as you met his eyes. He was always handsome, but right now, he was devastatingly so. His dark blue suit emphasised his slender frame, only suggesting at the rippling muscles that you knew lay beneath. His bleached blond locks perfectly styled, tousled artfully. He at once looked so young, and also more like a man than you’d ever seen him. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling.

The rest of the Avengers were sitting on benches on either side of you, apart from Clint. He was stood beside Pietro. He was nominally the best man, as he was the Avenger Pietro was closest to, but in actual fact, Wanda had taken on both best man and maid of honour roles.

As you got closer, you could see that Pietro’s eyes were watering. You wanted to run to him then, but you were seven months pregnant and wearing very impractical shoes. It took all of your restraint not to throw yourself into his arms as soon as you were close enough.

“{You look so beautiful},” he murmured as he took your hand.

The ceremony was kept brief. Neither of you could stand for extended periods of time, and you didn’t know 90% of the attendees very well, so you were thankful for that. Although most of the audience only spoke English, you gave your vows in Sokovian. After all, this was for you, not them.

You were on the verge of tears as Pietro swore to love you and protect you, that everything he’d been through had been worth it because it led him to you, that he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with you.

When the ceremony was over, the two of you were ushered into a private room. This was one of the concessions. Yichud, the short period of seclusion that would allow you to reflect on your relationship. As soon as you were alone, Pietro put his arms around you and kissed you breathless.

The world had shrunk down to the size of this room. There was only you, only Pietro, clinging to each other and breathing the same air.

When you finally broke apart, he sat down on the small sofa against one wall and pulled you down beside him. It was a tight squeeze, so you were half in his lap.  

“{How are you feeling, Mrs Maximoff?}” he asked. His tone was bubbly and warm. You wanted to sink into him and never come back.

“{Never better, Mr Maximoff}.”

He pulled your legs across his lap and rested one hand on your bump. “{Are you looking forward to the honeymoon?}”

“{I’m looking forward to being alone with you},” you said softly.

And it was true that you’d never really been alone with Pietro. In Sokovia, Hydra had always been watching, or else you’d been with Wanda. In New York, the three of you (and Odeta) had shared Pietro’s hospital room until yesterday, at which point you’d been ushered away into another bedroom so as not to see him the night before the wedding. 

Courtesy of Tony, the two of you were going to be staying in a secluded cabin upstate, far from everyone and everything.

“{You know, it’s customary for us to share our first meal together as husband and wife while we’re here. Wanda made us these},” he said, retrieving a tin from the table. He opened it to reveal a batch of cookies.

You let him feed you one, and then kiss the crumbs from your lips. You were dizzingly, deliriously happy. The two of you stayed in seclusion for far longer than the prescribed eight minutes.

There was no reception. You had agreed that it would be too much for both of you, so after the Yichud, the plan was to get straight in the car to be driven upstate. Wanda kissed you both goodbye and promised to take good care of Odeta while you were gone.

Pietro could have gotten you to the cabin in a few seconds flat, but you had opted for a car instead. Speeding around with him made you dizzy, and you weren’t in any hurry. Once you were in the backseat of the car, you put your head on Pietro’s shoulder – your husband’s shoulder – and closed your eyes.

Music was playing on the radio. Pietro’s window was open, so a cool breeze was blowing across your face. It was a warm evening in early spring and the smell of your husband’s cologne was in your nostrils. You pressed your nose against his collarbone and inhaled.

His arm was around you. One hand was resting against your face, his index finger stroking along the line of your jaw. His thumb came to rest just behind your earlobe, anchoring his hand there. As his little finger skittered across your lower lip, you pressed a kiss to it.

“{I thought you were sleeping},” he murmured, laughter in his voice.

“{No, just drinking it all in}.”

The cabin itself was in the middle of the woods. Pregnant as you were, Pietro wouldn’t let you carry any bags. He whisked them all inside before you’d even made it out of the car.

He thanked the driver and then swept you off your feet, bridal style.

“Piet,” you squeaked, and he nuzzled his face into your neck. As was tradition, he carried you over the threshold. “{I think it’s supposed to be the threshold of our house},” you pointed out as he set you down on your feet.

“{This is our house, for now}.”

From the outside, the place had looked unassuming, but inside, there was state of the art security tech.

“If anyone but you two is in that place, we will know immediately,” Tony had assured you. “You’ll be safe there.”

And that had been what you were looking for. It had been nearly two months since Sokovia, but you knew that some scars would never heal. You still found yourself looking for Strucker in every dark corner, or Ultron and his robots in every clank of machinery. You still saw Pietro’s body, riddled with bullets, every time you closed your eyes.

“{Hey, hey, what’s wrong?}” Pietro asked, cupping your cheek.

“{Nothing’s wrong}.”

“{You’re frowning}.”

You tilted your head into his palm and exhaled. “{Sorry. Feeling a little sore}.”

“{Come sit down}.”

You let him lead you over to the sofa and sat down with him. He wrapped his hand around your calf and laid it on his lap. He fiddled with the straps of your sandals for a moment, freeing your foot from its restraints. You breathed deeply.

“{Better?}” he asked.

“{Better}.”

He removed your other sandal, and then began massaging the tension out of both of your calves. You lay back on the sofa as he laid sweet kisses to the insides of your ankles, and pressed his thumbs into the ball of your foot hard enough to draw a moan out of you.

“{Did that hurt?}”

“{A little. But in a good way}.”

He did it again. You groaned. “{You like that?}”

“{Yes. Very much. I have some lotion in my suitcase. Could you rub some into my feet for me?}”

He disappeared but was back before your feet had even had a chance to hit the sofa, holding a tub of cocoa butter. “{This stuff?}”

“{Yes, that stuff}.”

You closed your eyes as he took a healthy dollop and began to massage it into your feet. His fingernails scratched affectionately at your ankles and swiped under your toenails. He spread your toes, a strangely pleasurable stretch as he pressed his thumbs into the sensitive skin on their underside.

You groaned happily, stretching your feet further into his space. He continued working his way up your legs, moisturising and massaging the skin of your calves and shins. When he reached your knees, his hands curling around them gently but firmly, a spark of arousal jolted up your leg.

“{Are you alright?}” asked Pietro, pulling back.

“{I’m good},” you said, sounding a little breathless.

He raised one eyebrow, and you knew he was seeing right through you. Smoothing his hands up the skin of your calves again, he hooked his hands under your knees and parted your legs. You shivered. In the time that he’d been out of action, you had forgotten how strong he was. Right now, you knew you couldn’t have broken his grip if you wanted to, and that excited you. 

“{What do you say we check out the bedroom?}” he suggested, still resting his hands on your spread knees. You just nodded, and he dipped forward to help you to your feet. He stayed close behind you, breath warm against your ear. “{I’m just going to wash my hands. I’ll meet you in there}.” He gave your ass a quick slap and pushed you in the direction of the bedroom.

You had expected him to catch up with you immediately, but he didn’t. You felt the absence of his hands on you. Your feet also felt strangely sensitive after the massage he’d just given them.

Against one wall was a full length mirror. In it, you saw yourself, still dressed in your wedding dress, your pregnant belly bulging out in front of you. You smoothed some hair out of your face and exhaled deeply. This was real.

A moment later, strong arms curled around you from behind, his hands laying on the curve of your bump. Pietro rested his chin on your shoulder and pressed a kiss behind your ear.

“{Hi, beautiful},” he murmured. His cologne was stronger now, like he’d just put more on.

“{Hi, my love}.” You were breathless.

With a grin on his face, your husband began to nip at your ear, his hands moving from your belly to cup your breasts. “{We should get you out of this dress},” he murmured. “{We don’t to make a mess of it}.”

Your heart fluttered. He kissed you right at the back of your neck, along your spine, and your insides felt as though they were melting.

Getting you undressed was fiddlier than usual. Pietro was careful not to damage the dress, and his fingers skimmed over every new piece of exposed skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

“{Lay down with me},” he murmured as he unhooked your bra. You let him guide you over to the bed and pull back the covers. It was a cool evening and you were wearing only your panties now, so you shoved your feet down under the duvet. As you tried to cover the rest of yourself with it, he stopped you. “{I want to see you}.”

He spooned you, pressing kisses to your neck. You leant back into him, feeling the heat of his body. Pietro always ran hot, and you were glad for that right now. One hand cupped your breast and squeezed, the other played with the waistband of your panties.

He groaned. “{God, your boobs feel so good}.” He thumbed over your nipple and you let out and undignified squeak. Your breasts had become more sensitive recently. While you were distracted by his mouth on your neck and his fingers playing with your nipple, he slid his other hand into your panties and found you wet and wanting.

“{That all for me, sweet girl?}” he asked, grazing the skin of your neck with his teeth. You could only nod.

You had no idea how long the two of you lay there like that, with him playing your body like an instrument, trying to make music fall from your lips. It could’ve been minutes or hours. Your panties had long been discarded and his bare erection was pressing insistently against your lower back. Eventually, you grabbed his hand.

“{Stop teasing and fuck me},” you commanded, and he chuckled.

“{Alright, bossy}.”

He hooked a hand under your knee again, spreading your legs wide. You felt him line himself up against your entrance from behind and your eyes fluttered close as he pushed into you.

It had been a little while, so the stretch straddled the line between pleasure and pain for you. You let your head fall back onto his shoulder. You trusted him to get both of you where you were going now.

He started out slow – uncharacteristically so – restarting the process of working you back up to orgasm. You would’ve been frustrated if it hadn’t felt so good. Once he’d found his rhythm, his fingers found your clit, settling into a pace that he knew you liked.

For your part, you didn’t do much of the work. Not that Pietro would’ve let you. He was strongly of the opinion that you should never have to do anything you didn’t want to again. You thought that was impractical, but for now, you were indulging him.

“{Pretty girl},” Pietro murmured. His voice was husky, his words spoken into the skin behind your ear. You shivered. “{My pretty little wife. No one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets to fuck you like this. You’re mine}.”

“{I’m all yours},” you cooed, your body lax against his. His tongue slipped into your ear, jolting you back to attention. “Piet,” you squeaked, feeling a hot ball of pleasure growing in between your thighs.

“{So many ways for me to fuck you},” he mused. “{Some day I’m going to ruin every single one of your holes}.”

“{Yes},” you whimpered.

“{You want that?}”

“{Yes}.”

His hips thrust faster. His fingers on your clit began to speed up until they were almost vibrating. You practically howled as you came, thrusting pathetically back against him. He chuckled at that, and didn’t stop fucking you.

There was no reprieve. A moment later, your orgasm crested again, this time bringing tears to your eyes.

“Pi- Pi-e-tro,” you gasped, your words punctuated by his thrusts.

“{My poor sweet girl. So drunk on my big cock, aren’t you? I’ve absolutely ruined you}.” Your hands clasped at his, feeling the vibrations as he abused your clit and played with your breasts. Your feet pressed into the mattress, arching your spine as you came for the third time. Pietro groaned again. “{So fucking good. So tight and wet for me}.” His thrusts sped up, and after a moment, finally, he came too.

You listened to his breathing slow down. He didn’t pull out of you, instead opting to fasten his arms around your ribcage and pull you tighter to him. Once he was satisfied that he was adequately spooning you, his hands came to rest on your bump instead. It was a little while before you felt able to talk again.

“{Are you enjoying your first day being my husband?}” you asked playfully, tilting your head to look up at him.

He groaned, pressing his lips to your shoulder. “{You’re the best wife I could ask for}.”

Next Chapter

#pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff x you #pietro maximoff smut

[mgparker]

moment of forever

[tasm!peter parker x reader]

sequel for scared to breathe

part i | word count: >6k

summary: months after the events of the multiversal battle, you’re stuck in an endless loop of helplessness and isolation. when seeking help from the person who started it all goes extraordinarily wrong, you find yourself in a different universe all together… with no way home.

warnings: sequel to scared to breathe, f!reader, sad feelings, MOM spoilers, long intro before peter content, fluff, injury, fast-paced with lots of time skips, more like a series of important little events, fast-paced romance, some another chance easter eggs, mostly edited

i won’t lie. this is a bit too quick for my taste and it’s all kinda shoved together. lots of little events in between each scene are excluded for the sake of giving both reader & peter a happy ending. but if you’d like to see more of the in-between stuff, i’d be more than happy to create their own little world. oh and also sorry for the long doctor strange intro, it was necessary. anyway, here’s some fluff .

Despite your exhaustive efforts to figure out why the world especially hated you, the answer just wouldn’t come.

Not even as you cried in your tiny apartment, fingers pulling at the ends of your strained hair painfully, lungs desperately searching for air.

Why, why on earth were you, of all people, the only one who was exempt from Strange’s stupid spell? Is there a reason the universe spared you the mercy of being oblivious to the starving pain that would come from being separated from everything you once knew?

Granted, the sorcerer’s spell didn’t erase all previous connections from your life—even the ones that were created due to Peter Parker’s important role in your growing years—but it definitely caused a strain on all the important ones.

Ned, MJ, hell even Happy…

Because try as they might, they could never really explain how they came to know you—only that they suddenly just did, influenced by a moment in their life that was shadowed by a cloud of darkness and mystery.

Yes, Peter Parker may not have been the only person in your world that you cared about, but he was damn well responsible for most of the other relationships that you held dear.

Without him, you would’ve never befriended Ned Leeds or Michelle Jones. You would’ve never interned for Tony Stark or wiggled your way into Happy Hogan’s secretly warm heart.

Without him, you would’ve never gotten into this situation in the first place… but you couldn’t blame him. You couldn’t hold any ill-will towards the teen, not when every cell in your body longed to leave your apartment right now and go searching all of New York City for him.

Why were you the only person who could remember Peter Parker?

Not only that—why did you still dream of the other Peter Parker that you met what seems like years ago? (In reality, it’d only been a few months).

It wasn’t fair. It simply wasn’t. And it especially wasn’t fair that you had no solid way of finding either of them.

The tears on your cheek were starting to dry. And your desperation was starting to drive you insane…

Your last option had been running through your mind for a while now, the thought popping into your everyday thoughts sporadically throughout the last few weeks until you had no choice but to finally entertain it.

It couldn’t be the wildest idea to exist—people had done crazier things before, right?

And as you wiped at your face and stood up from your creaking bed, you were determined to finally see it through.

177A Bleeker Street was even more daunting than it was last year; the Sanctum Santorum hanging over you menacingly.

But it wasn’t enough to deter you from your plan; you took a deep breath before raising your hand to knock—

The door swung open suddenly. Your hand fell forward along with most of your body before you caught yourself embarrassingly.

“Jesus,” you sighed, heat rushing to your cheeks as you tried your hardest not to glance back at the fellow New Yorkers that were rushing down the street behind you. Like they’d really care, honestly.

“Not Jesus.”

“Wow!” You practically screamed, one hand flying to your chest while the other flew around aimlessly, desperate to put distance between you and the unexpected voice. “Okay, that was uncalled for.”

Doctor Stephen Strange stood at the top of the grand staircase, reminiscent to a few months ago when he’d greeted you, Ned and MJ before everything went to shit.

In his usual sarcastic fashion, one eyebrow raises carefully. “What’s uncalled for is you showing up at my door without invite.”

Someone’s in a bad mood. “Yeah, sorry about that, we aren’t exactly buddies, and I couldn’t just dial you up so—” His outfit caught you off-guard, a pristine suit and tie replacing his usual sorcerer attire. “What’re you wearing?”

Strange rolled his eyes. “What are you doing here?” He pointedly ignored your question.

The compliment you were ready to give died on your lips, a glare replacing your original response.

“I need help fixing a mistake that you made.”

“’Mistake that I made?’” There’s a hint of a smile on the man’s face, but it isn’t a happy one.

You realized how bold you were being. “Y-yeah.”

“Let’s get something straight,” Strange began, slamming the door shut behind you with a flick of his finger. “The only mistake I made was inviting three children into my home and effectively ruining any privacy I might’ve once had.”

Definitely in a bad mood. Maybe you should take a different route.

“Sir, I’m aware that showing up here unannounced wasn’t a good idea but I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

Irritated, Strange shut his eyes and sighed.

He could think of a hundred reasons not to hear you out, but something tells him it might actually be important. After all, it was his initial spell that nearly caused the destruction of the multiverse. Even if the last spell was successful and Spider-Man’s identity was concealed from everyone’s mind, including his own, there still could be some loose ends he could’ve forgotten to tie.

“Can you walk fast?”

You’re flabbergasted. “What?”

“Can you walk fast? I’m in a bit of a time crunch.”

Realizing this might be your only chance, you jumped at it frantically. “Yes—yes, I can. Super fast.”

Adjusting his watch, Strange jogged down the steps and towards the door. “Talk to me on the way.”

Without hesitation, you set off after him, hot on his trail. “On the way where?”

“Wedding.”

“You’re getting married?” You gawked stupidly. Thankfully, he’s walking ahead of you.

Strange scoffed. “I wouldn’t be late to my own wedding.”

A quip sat at the tip of your tongue, but he continued. “It’s not too far so I would get to the point if I were you.”

“Right,” you matched his quick pace. “A few months ago, you cast a spell that was meant to erase the identity of Spider-Man from the entire world.”

“Yes,” he agreed roughly.

You cringed in anticipation. “Let’s say your spell didn’t exactly work.”

Your walk was brought to an abrupt halt. You whipped around to face Doctor Strange and the look on his face was deadly.

“Excuse me?”

People dodged your bodies left and right, traffic building up on the busy sidewalk.

“I know who Spider-Man is still and—”

“Stop,” his palm flew up. “Don’t say anything.”

“But I—”

“Don’t—”

“Just let me—”

“No—”

“I’m not going to tell you who he is!” You said over his protests.

It became silent.

“You know who he is,” it was more of a statement than a question.

“Yes,” you nodded.

“Did you happen to remember this out of the blue or—”

“There was nothing to remember,” you said matter-of-factly. “You see, I never forgot. At the beginning, I thought the spell would take some time to settle in, so I tried to shrug it off. But then days turned into weeks and everyone else has moved on but me.”

Strange adjusted his suit, peering around the street as he tried to regain a bit of composure. Out of all things you could’ve told him, he certainly wasn’t expecting this.

How is it that you, a girl with no extraordinary abilities (that he knew of), resisted the effects of an advanced enchantment? One that even infiltrated his enhanced mind…

“Alright, kid,” you were back to walking down the street, following Strange who had a strange pep in his step. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to come to this event with me. You’re going to pretend as if you don’t exist and then we’re going to figure this whole situation out after I’m done.”

You cringed at the idea of sitting through a stranger’s wedding. “Are you sure I have to go to this wedding with you? I could always stop by the Sanctum tomorrow—”

“No,” he said sternly. “I’m not so sure you understand. This shouldn’t have happened. We’re going to talk to Wong and we’re going to figure out why you have the ability to withstand a universal spell.”

And that’s how you ended up at a stranger’s wedding. A stranger who you later found out was Strange’s ex-girlfriend, who he clearly hasn’t gotten over—you had a keen eye and a knack for observation.

In all, the entire ideal was extremely uncomfortable, your jeans and t-shirt sticking out like a sore thumb in the crowd of elegant invitees… It wasn’t until a loud crash had all of the guests tripping over themselves to squeeze onto the balcony, chaos erupting on the streets of New York City.

Rusty from months of zero superhero action, you weren’t quick enough to reach Doctor Strange before he was throwing himself off the balcony dramatically, cape billowing behind him and leaving the group gasping at his heroics.

“Damn,” you muttered, backtracking until you were at the staircase, taking two or three steps at a time.

Staying at the wedding was likely the safest option, probably the option Strange would’ve preferred, but it had been too long since you’d been involved in crimestopping. The superhero itch was too intense to ignore… This was your element.

…Nothing could’ve prepared you for what you’d find once you busted through the doors onto the Manhattan streets.

A one-eyed octopus was tearing through the concrete, smashing into buses and buildings with an eye set to kill. Heart racing in your ears, you followed its line of vision onto… a girl?

She couldn’t have been much younger than you. Jet-black hair thrown up into a ponytail, a denim jacket slung over her shoulders, white sneakers that had seen better days.

Jesus.

Frantically, you looked for Strange and within the destruction, a flash of red was weaving through the running crowd. Clearly, he had the situation handled.

Without a second thought, you made a beeline toward the girl, jumping over concrete slabs and dodging overturned cars until you were feet away from her.

Fire raced through your legs. If there’s one thing you’ve gotten from this, it’s that you needed to run more.

“Hey!” You heaved, hands waving as you pushed on.

The girl’s head snapped toward you, fear stretching her lips into a deep frown. Her chest was rising as quickly as yours.

“We gotta get out of here! Let’s go—”

The ground disappeared beneath your feet, your lungs freezing as a slimy tentacle wrapped around your sore leg.

You were screaming bloody murder, possibly ripping through your vocal cords as the street got further and further from you. You were damn near close to soaring above the buildings beside you.

Pain tore through your back as you finally slammed into the balcony of a building next to you, your leg being released, forgotten by the octopus as it focused back on the girl who looked like an ant from your height.

Icy fear froze you to your spot, clutching at your throat. Since falling from the Statue of Liberty, heights had been a tricky thing for you.

A sweat broke out on your hairline, and you dared to close your eyes. There was no way down from here.

Any peace you could’ve found was quickly obliterated when your building was rattling again, the monster slamming into the balcony once more until the girl was a foot away from you.

Before the monster could end both of your lives, Strange was back on his feet again, leading it away.

You turned toward the girl. “Hey, that—that was a close one,” you attempted to joke. Turns out you spoke too soon.

The slab of concrete collapsed, sending you both sliding down the side of the building, meeting halfway in a crash of limbs and shrill screams. Frantic brown eyes found yours before everything around you was suddenly spinning, your vision surrounded by an array of colors. The two of you were falling feetfirst into a… a portal?

“Ah! What the hell?” It was the first thing you could muster, heaving from the impact of the cold, damp sidewalk.

Though your body protested, you pushed yourself onto your knees, trying to find the denim-clad girl who had fallen with you.

Except she was nowhere to be seen… and this wasn’t the New York you’d left behind.

Here, the sun was nearly gone, darkness shadowing the corners of the alley you found yourself sitting in. The lights of nearby billboards reflected on the rain drops of the concrete.

Something about all of this was off… Well, excluding the fact that your surroundings had magically disappeared and then reappeared again, only to find yourself in a completely different place than where you had just been a mere second ago.

What in the hell was going on?

Scrambling to your feet, you pressed yourself to the wall, pain shooting up your ankle as soon as you tried to put weight on it. Must’ve landed on it wrong.

You cursed under your breath, cradling your ankle as tears threatened to spill.

In fact, you were so caught up in your own agony that you failed to notice the shuffle at the end of the alleyway. Or the figure that had landed on the rooftop of the building across from you, crouched curiously.

Softly, it landed in the shadows, obscured from your vision as you continued to lament over your injured joint.

Awestruck, Spider-Man made his way closer to you. Everything in him was screaming that this whole thing must be a dream, a wildly vivid deception conjured up by the aching part of his brain that constantly longed for you.

But you looked too real, crouched over with your hair framing your pain-stricken face. T-shirt hanging over your shoulders as you mumbled undecipherable words. Even from his spot, he could see the chipped polish on your nails and the stained converse on your feet… Lord, you were even wearing the same necklace as the day of the Statue of Liberty incident.

A swell of emotions attacked him. Then, your name was leaving his lips before he could help it, his feet tripping over themselves in a clumsy matter. All to get to you before you could vanish before his very eyes.

Except this wasn’t a dream—you weren’t going to vanish—and you were really there. Breathing before him with flushed cheeks and curious eyes.

“Peter?” You breathed, recognizing the silhouette of the man even in the darkness.

Little did he know, Peter Parker from Earth-120703 also infiltrated your mind constantly, appearing in the form of sweetest dreams and fantasies (whenever you weren’t torturing yourself with nightmares). You hadn’t meant to let his short visit to your earth affect you so much, but there was something about him that you couldn’t shake off.

Tears welled up and he was quickly ripping the mask off, revealing his messy brown locks and shiny disbelieving eyes.

“H-how?” He was slowly approaching you now. All he wanted to do was wrap you in his arms.

You mirrored his look of disbelief. “I don’t know. I-I went through this portal and ended up here—oof!”

The dam broke as he suddenly pulled you in, legs tangling with his. There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation as you wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him as close as humanly possible with an idiotically huge smile.

You never thought you’d seen your Peter again, much less this Peter. Happy couldn’t begin to describe the plethora of feelings rushing to your brain.

Beneath your grip, you felt Peter’s body begin to tremble. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

You pulled away the slightest bit, searching for his eyes and feeling your heart crack when you found the tears spilling down his red cheeks. “Peter…”

“I have to be dreaming,” he shuddered, closing his eyes softly.

You smiled. “This is real, Peter. I’m here… somehow.”

He didn’t answer, only tightening his grip around your waist. It began to drizzle, rain trickling over your intertwined bodies, but it didn’t dare ruin the moment of bliss between you two.

“Honestly, I’m not really sure how this happened… but what I do know is that I haven’t stopped thinking about you since December.”

Peter finally looked up, catching your gaze with a clouded look.

You were distantly aware of how little space existed between the two of you. “Say something,” you breathed.

Swallowing his fear, Peter sighed shakily. “I shouldn’t have left.”

“Peter, you had no choice—”

“I shouldn’t have left without telling you how much being with you meant to me,” he finished pointedly. Your gaze kept flickering between his intense stare and the lips you’d been dreaming about for months.

This was a fool’s game. Harboring feelings for someone you’d only known for a day, but you had felt the profound love he held for you—in his universe, yours and the next. Even in that one day he’d spent most of ignoring you. The last hour you had after the battle created a bond you were sure had been pulling on your heart strings until this very moment.

It was a fool’s game—loving someone who had loved a different version of you. But despite all of it, the universe had created your souls for each other, in this world and the next, forever bonded by the complexity of your hearts, sewn and meticulously intertwined only to fit with each other’s.

You pulled him into your embrace again, cuddling him in an attempt to soothe over any guilt or pain he felt from your sudden goodbye. “I understand. It’s so okay, I’m here now.”

“You’re here now,” he repeated into your hair shakily. His hands held you like glass.

It’s funny—how adamant he was on not meeting your eyes, not talking to you, hell not even touching you all those months ago. Now, it was like he couldn’t get enough.

The cold, distant Peter you met was gone. And your own behavior was surprising you— it was a mixture of the relief of escaping your months-long isolation since the spell gone wrong, and the feelings that were blossoming slowly but surely.

A sharp sting reminded you of your pressing injury.

“Peter,” you hissed, trying to divert the weight off your leg.

“What?” He seemed unnecessarily startled, pulling away from you as if he’d been burned. His frantic eyes searched your body.

“It’s my ankle,” he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten how you were hunched over in pain. “I think I sprained it when I landed here.”

In a series of clumsy movements, Peter’s mask was securely placed over his face again and he was crouched in front of you funnily.

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped. Even with the mask, you could imagine the eyebrow raise Peter gave you as he spun to look at you. “I can take you to my place. We can check it out there…”

You didn’t mean to hesitate. Since you had been thrown into this new world, your brain had been moving in slow-motion.

“If you want, of course! There’s-there’s a hospital a few blocks down. If you want, you could get it checked out by a professional because I—” a nervous laugh escaped him. “—I’m obviously not a doctor. Of course, you’d want to get it checked out by a doctor. Sorry, that was stupid—”

“Hey!” You laughed. “I don’t mind getting evaluated by Bugboy. I happen to trust you more than anyone anyway so…”

You’d said it so casually, but to Peter, it meant everything.

He stared at you for a moment too long before clearing his throat awkwardly. “Well, then it’s decided. Back to my place we go. Fair warning, I’m not the neatest person.”

You hopped on his back without an ounce of grace. “I don’t mind.”

You’re a clean freak, Peter thought quietly. Of course, you mind.

But he discarded it to the back of his mind, focused on getting you to a safer place.

“Hold on tight, sweetheart.”

And then you were swinging the streets of Manhattan, soaring over bridges and buildings until you were landing on the fire escape of a Queens apartment. High above the ground, definitely on a double-digit floor.

For once, the height didn’t scare you.

Peter wasted no time in retrieving a first aid kit as soon as he’d gotten you both through the window. You could barely make out the layout of his bedroom, disoriented from how fast the hero was moving.

Peter crouched in front of you, dropping to his knees as he gently pushed you back onto his bed.

You hit the comforter softly, holding yourself up by your elbows as you peered down at the suit-clad man.

He poked and prodded at your swollen ankle, drawing out a long hiss through your nostrils as you fought the reflex of kicking him away.

Smoothly, he reached into the first aid kit and took out a large roll. Wrapping it around the joint firmly, he looked up at you through his eyelashes.

“Good news—it isn’t sprained.”

“Great,” you sighed in relief, falling back onto the bed.

“But it could hurt to walk for a few days.”

You threw a thumbs up. “Awesome.”

“It shouldn’t be a problem. I don’t have classes for a few weeks so it all evens out.”

A few weeks? Did you want to stay in this world for that long? Did you really have a choice in the matter? Did you even want to go back?

It barely took any contemplating for you to realize that you didn’t. Doctor Strange was clearly in over his head with all the ruckus happening at his doorstep and he couldn’t have looked more clueless when you told him of your predicament this morning… you wouldn’t be surprised if the sorcerer had no clue how to fix the issue… and at this point, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to.

You hadn’t realized that forgetting your Peter would also mean forgetting the one who had just patched up your swollen ankle. Not that your Peter didn’t mean as much to you (in all honesty, your years of friendship with him meant more than anything in the world) but the growing bond with this universe’s Peter had transcended the barriers of space and time…

That had to mean something. You felt it.

Still, you couldn’t help the slightest twinge of guilt. I mean, you had technically landed in his universe uninvited. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

It was stupid to say, but you couldn’t help it.

Are you kidding? Peter gawked. He didn’t dare utter it out loud though. “It’s no imposition at all,” is what he settled for instead. Because he knew you, down to your very core. He could read you like a magazine.

The sincere look in his eyes was all it took to ease your hesitance. “Thanks,” you smiled bashfully.

Before he could stare at you in awe any longer, Peter stood up with the first aid kit in hand. He moved to put it away, but he was stopped by a sudden grip on his hand.

It was your hand, small and warm in his. Curved and carved in familiar lines that he’d spent hours and hours memorizing when he once had you in his arms…

Frozen, he waited for your next move.

Wobbling, you pulled yourself up until you were nearly chest-to-chest with Peter.

It was still and quiet for a few moments.

Now that you were so close to him, your mind went blank.

“Um—” his eyes darted from your eyes to your moving lips. “What… what year is it?”

Wow. Out of all things you could’ve broken the tension with, the only question that comes to mind is the date. You instantly want to bash your head into a wall. It’d been too long without any Peter Parker interaction; you were beginning to lose your touch.

It seemed like a bucket of cold water fell on Peter’s head. The anticipation in his gaze melting into amusement. “It’s, erm, it’s 2015.”

Your jaw dropped, leaning back to sit on the bed again. “Are you serious?”

Your grip on his hand didn’t waver. Truthfully, you weren’t sure why you got up in the first place—you just didn’t want him to leave your side yet.

“Yeah,” he rubbed the back of his neck with a chuckle. “Imagine my surprise when I landed in your world.”

The first aid kit clattered at the movement, uncomfortably hitting his shoulder. Getting a grip, you finally released his hand.

“Right…” you murmured, watching as he went to store the kit underneath the bathroom sink. There was a hesitance in his step, as if he too didn’t want to linger far from your presence.

He sauntered back over to you. Sitting crisscross-applesauce, Peter gave you a smile that made your heart stop.

“So… what have I missed?”

It was a bit strange at first, you had to admit, but eventually, you and Peter fell into a routine.

Well, it was more like you had assimilated into his routine… staying at his apartment (though you definitely had the choice of leaving if you wanted to) without complaint and attempting to chef up whatever you could with the sparce ingredients Peter picked up from the grocery store.

When you weren’t cooking something, you found yourself tidying the small space up, despite the man urging you to rest your ankle.

It’d been days, almost a week, and your injury was on the precipice of full healing. The only word for Peter’s behavior was doting.

It was only the seventh night of your arrival on this strange world that you and Peter finally moved past the awkward roommate stage.

It was late… or rather early in the morning. The clock read 3:27 AM, the LED lights flashing behind your closed eyelids from how many times you’d checked on it throughout the night.

Peter had arrived twenty minutes ago from his Spider-Man duties. The shower was on, the only sound in the apartment and you found yourself hyper fixating on it.

Sighing, you dreadfully thought of how he would open the bathroom door, hair damp and eyes weighed down from the lack of sleep. How he’d smile at you brightly despite it, and wish you a goodnight before softly closing his bedroom door and quietly making his way to the small couch in his even smaller living room.

It made you feel like a burden, even though Peter did everything in his power to make sure you felt like anything but.

Reassurances could only work for so long.

Which triggered the same discussion every morning—you’d tell him you were more than happy to take the couch and he’d endlessly argue against it.

Tonight was going to be different.

Your eyes squinted against the light of the bathroom, the door opening slowly. Steam poured into the room and along came Peter, shaking out his messy hair.

As usual, his tired eyes lit up when he saw you sitting up against the bedframe. Even with the messiest bedhead and crumpled t-shirt, you were the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

God, he never would’ve thought you’d be in his life again. The multiversal incident was something out of his wildest dreams, an instance that should’ve never happened, a blip in the timeline of the universe… but God, was he glad that it happened.

Otherwise, he would’ve never known that you were the same here and in every universe, with a spirit as shiny as gold and as bright as the sun.

You were his sun.

Dragging his feet to the door, he began to give you his usual goodnight.

“Wait,” you cut him off.

He did just that, hand hovering over the doorknob expectantly.

“If you won’t let me sleep on the couch,” you swallowed down your nerves. “Why don’t we just share the bed?”

Silence.

“I just hate that you’re out there and I’m in here so I thought there’s more than enough space… if you want.”

More silence.

You overstepped, of course you did. That’s the only thing you could gather from the impassive look on the brunette’s face. An apology was at the tip of your tongue, regret staining your ears red.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Peter protested. Still, his hand slid off the doorknob.

“It’s your bed,” you pointed out.

“Still,” Peter shook his head. “I don’t mind the couch. Really. It’s more convenient too, you know—”

“More convenient than your own bedroom?” You chuckled, realizing Peter was as nervous as you were.

In all honesty, he couldn’t want anything more. He longed to close the distance between you constantly. When once your touch practically burned him in that small supply closet in Midtown High’s lab, now it was all he could think about.

Fear held him back. The fear of getting too close and then losing you again. The fear of falling even more in love with you because it scientifically just couldn’t be possible. Loving someone any more than he loved you would surely send him to the hospital.

But you were staring at him with glistening eyes, cheeks flushed from embarrassment, but still letting the corners of your lips curl into an anxious frown.

“It’s just that… ever since that night—when I fell off the Statue of Liberty—”

Every muscle in Peter’s body seized up, eyes shutting on instinct. Endless images of your falling body replayed like a broken record.

“—I haven’t been able to sleep. Every night, I’m right back there. Falling into a bottomless void—” your voice cracked and you quickly cleared your throat. It was pathetic to cry about something that had already happened. Especially when the person in front of you had experienced it before, twice.

“I’m sorry,” you gathered your bearings. “If I’ve crossed a line…”

“Absolutely not,” breathed Peter, eyes glistening with unshed tears. With that, he finally gave into his desire, rushing toward you before you could break down entirely.

Arms wrapped around your waist, the bed sinking with his weight, and you finally let yourself feel.

It was a mixture of fear—no, terror—and comfort. The sensation of falling again but being caught in the arms of the person you trusted with your life. Peter had saved your life and you knew he’d do it time and time again.

So that’s how you fell asleep that night, pressed into the crook of Peter’s neck.

You barely heard it, but as you drifted off, a quiet whisper was uttered with a gentle press of lips against your forehead.

“I won’t ever let anything happen to you. Never again.”

You were happy to find that every night after was nightmare-free, instead replaced with dreams of your happiest moments growing up in Queens. Flashes of your friends in Midtown, giggling with Ned, Peter and MJ. Memories of the last moment you had with Peter, who was quickly becoming your favorite person, at the bottom of the monument of your original universe.

The two of you were slowly becoming more comfortable with crossing more boundaries, tangling your limbs together in bed or wrapping each other in a hug whenever Peter would return home from his Spider-Man duties.

It seemed like he couldn’t get enough of you, a stark contrast to how he’d acted the first time you met him. But the bandage had been ripped off and things were different now. He had a second chance to make things right with you, to not commit the same mistakes he once had.

You were his second chance.

Though you were constantly fretting over pulling your own weight around the place, Peter felt like you were doing too much. After all, his home would always be yours.

So, it’s how he ended up taking a night off from patrolling to instead gather all the ingredients for your favorite dish. (At least he hoped red pepper pasta was your favorite dish, everything else he’s known about you has been consistent in both universes).

When you woke up from your nap that evening, seeking the delicious smell that was wafting in from the kitchen, your heart melted when you found Peter at the stove. Dashing between the counter and the sizzling sauce on the burner, he had never been more handsome.

It was pathetic really, the speed it had taken you to cross the small distance between the bedroom door and where the hero stood.

But it didn’t matter. Because you had one single thought in your mind—one that had been floating around for weeks now in the back of your head—and it took over.

A sound of surprise escaped Peter when you crashed into him, spatula crashing onto the ground forgotten. You wasted no time in tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him close enough that his shaky breath hit your lips.

You sought permission in his eyes, searching until he gave you his answer. And it came faster than expected, the tiniest of nods bringing his mouth closer to yours before Peter pressed his lips to yours.

Slightly chapped but a sensation that turned the spark in your belly into a full-blown fire… uncontained and wild, burning through every emotion until all you could feel was unconditional love.

A feeling you didn’t know you were searching for all your life until you ended up in this precise moment, wrapped in the arms of someone who loved you more than the moon loved the stars and the sun loved the moon.

You pitied those who wouldn’t find a love as extraordinary as the one you’re consumed by… because you’ve said it again and again but only just realized the raw depth and truth to these words— the universe had created your souls for each other, beyond the voids of space and time, destined to intertwine infinitely until the world ended and another began… It was destiny that had brought him to you the first time.

And fate that would have you sharing this moment of forever in a small, dingy apartment in Queens.

hey! missed you all <3 i’ve had about 10 peter parker drafts in my computer for a few months and they’re finally coming together.

hope you’re all doing well & much love to you all<3 feel free to send me a pm with any updates or rants or requests. i’m aware that there’s a good amount of requests i never got to. don’t worry, i didn’t ignore them. i’ve just lacked inspiration to write for so long and i’m still not quite confident in my ability to write in a style that i genuinely like. still, tumblr makes me extremely happy and i love interacting with all you readers and creators.

anyway, that’s all for now.

— elle <3

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #the amazing spider-man #the amazing spider-man x reader #andrew!peter parker x reader #garfield!peter parker x reader #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #andrew garfield x reader #tasm x reader #spider-man #spider-man x reader #peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker #peter parker fluff #tasm imagine #the amazing spider-man imagine #marvel #marvel x reader #doctor strange #america chavez #scared to breathe #part 2 #mgparker

[pink-sparkly-witch]

Remind Me, Part Two

Summary: Things still need to be resolved between Jensen and Y/N. Can she forgive him and find her way back to him?

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ Only, angst, language, smut, oral sex (f rec), fingering, unprotected p in v.

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: This is more like how this was meant to end when I came up with this idea before it went all angsty. I was going to leave it at the end of part one, so you can thank @jbbarnesgirl for convincing me to write this part! As always, this hasn’t been beta’d, and all mistakes are my own.

My Masterlist     AO3     Ko-Fi

Y/N couldn’t sleep. She hated fighting with Jensen. Always had. And there was something that just wasn’t sitting right with her. She threw herself on her back for the millionth time in two hours and huffed at the dark ceiling.

Guilt. That’s what it was. She was feeling guilty because she lashed out when she was hurt. Something she’d done since she was little, just like she always burst into tears when she was frustrated or angry.

Jensen took the brunt of her hurt feelings and didn’t deserve it. Yes, what he did was awful, and it hurt her deeply. But her behaviour towards him was just as wrong, and if she’d learned anything in her life, it was that two wrongs do not make a right.

She threw herself on her side with another loud huff and grabbed her phone from the bedside table. She might as well torture herself with photos and old messages from Jensen. She wasn’t going to sleep now anyway.

As she scrolled back on her messages and scanned the ones from that time, she noticed one thing that never wavered. Every single message Jensen had sent, whether text or just emojis, always ended with the red heart and the kissy face emoji. Sometimes, those two were the only things in his messages.

Y/N felt even worse now. Stuck in her head with what had gone on and what might’ve been going on behind her back, she didn’t take in that those two simple emojis were his way of saying he loved her; he was thinking of her, especially when he sent them at 3am, which, she noticed, was more frequently than she’d realised before.

He may have stopped calling or answering her calls, but he sent those same two icons every single day. She’d taken it as Jensen’s way of staying in touch with her when he was away, more of a habit than his way of showing his feelings. Her tears became a tidal wave, and her sobs wracked her chest. She had to go to him. Had to finish what they’d started.

In the family room, Jensen wasn’t fairing much better. Eyes puffy and bloodshot from crying, he looked through their wedding album again. She looked so happy. They both did. Where did we go wrong? Well, he knew where. The better question was, why?

Y/N was always his strength. She held shit together when he couldn’t. She fixed things before he even knew they were broken. While he was away and she couldn’t do either because she was battling her own demons, he should’ve stepped up and taken the reins from her. Steered her to a happier place like she’d always done for him, but he hadn’t even known where to start, and that was why they were in this mess.

The realisation she thought he was having an affair was eye-opening. He saw where she was coming from, but it still broke his fucking heart. Thinking back, he vaguely remembered speaking with her that morning. He’s pretty sure her call was what woke him up that day. What he remembers more clearly is Karl and Toni not taking no for an answer about going out for Erin’s birthday.

If only he could go back in time and make better choices. Jensen wasn’t one for regrets, but fuck did he regret most of his choices from this past year. Smiling sadly, he ran his finger down the picture of Y/N in her stunning silk gown, mid-laugh at something he said to her on the best day of his life and willed the tears not to fall again. What he wouldn’t give to hear that laugh again, to see that unabashed joy on her face again.

Jensen’s eyes snapped up toward the hallway, hearing a door open. It felt like hours before she appeared in the open-plan living area, but he knew it could only have been seconds. His heart ached at the sight of her puffy and tear-stained face.

Y/N walked towards him, her bottom lip trembling and her arms coming out to the side, silently asking for a hug. Before he could get up from the sofa, she was climbing on him, straddling his lap, sliding her arms around his shoulders, and burying her head in the crook of his neck.

Jensen quickly wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush with his body and holding her tightly. A sob caught in her throat, and he slid a hand into her hair, gently cradling the back of her head.

“It’s okay. Just let it all out, baby,” he whispered soothingly in her ear. With the state she’d gotten herself in, Jensen knew he wouldn’t get much sense out of her until she calmed down, so he held her tighter, providing that calming comfort she needed right now.

“I—I—‘m s-s-sorry,” Y/N sobbed into his neck, soaking his shirt with her tears.

“Shh, shh, don’t say anything. Not yet. Just cry it all out, baby,” Jensen said. Tears of his own were spilling down his cheeks as he placed his lips on the crown of her head. 

They stayed like that for a long time and held onto one another until the tears from months of hurt and frustration ended, and still, they didn’t let go of one another.

“I’m sorry, Jensen,” Y/N finally spoke, her voice hoarse from her sobs.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, baby,” he responded, emotion thick in his voice as he kissed her hair.

“I do. I was horrible to you,” she sniffled.

“Oh, honey,” Jensen tried to interrupt.

“No. I was hurt and scared, and I lashed out, and I’m sorry. I thought you were going to leave me…”

“Leave you? Y/N, sweetheart, if anything, you should be leaving me!” Jensen countered.

“Oh, baby, no!” she said as she pulled away to look at him. Placing her hands on his cheeks, she leaned in and kissed his lips. “I love you, and I don’t wanna be without you. I don’t know why, but I just got so angry,” Y/N lowered her gaze from his, unable to look into his soft, loving green orbs a second longer.

“Hey, hey. Look at me,” Jensen prompted softly, gripping her chin gently and pushing it up until she raised her eyes to his again and smiled reassuringly. “You said it yourself. You were hurt and scared. Lonely, too, probably. I’ve been a terrible husband to you, and I understand.”

“No, don’t do that. Don’t make what I said okay,” Y/N pouted.

“Did you mean it? When you said I’d lost your trust?” Jensen asked quietly, stroking her cheek.

“No. But I need you to promise me you won’t shut me out like that again. It’ll break me.”

“I swear, I will never do that again, baby. I promise,” Jensen reassured her, sealing his promise with a kiss on her forehead, nose, then lips.

The kiss quickly became passionate, Y/N licking at his lips, asking for entrance, and Jensen gladly obliged. Opening his mouth, he captured her tongue with his, pulling her impossibly closer to his body and deepening the kiss.

Jensen failed to hold back a whimper when her fingers slid into his long hair. Fuck, it’d been so long since he’d felt her do that he wasn’t even ashamed of how desperate he sounded.

“Jensen,” Y/N said breathlessly when she pulled away from him, giggling when he chased after her lips. “Take me to bed?” she asked, nervously chewing on her bottom lip.

“Yeah?” Jensen checked. He needed to make sure this was what she wanted.

“It’s been too long. I miss you,” Y/N pecked Jensen’s lips. “Please? I want you,” she pleaded, pressing her forehead to his and cupping his cheeks.

Jensen didn’t ask again, didn’t wait. He moved his hands down to cup her round cheeks, gripped her tightly and stood. She wrapped her legs around his waist and laughed as Jensen took off at a run, carrying her upstairs to their bedroom.

They wasted no time stripping themselves of their clothes before they were on each other again, hands and lips caressing every piece of skin they could reach. Jensen pushed her gently back onto the bed and crawled between her legs.

Wrapping his arms around her thighs, he pushed her legs open, giving him the perfect view of her slick folds. Jensen loved to tease her, but right now, when it’d been months since he’d tasted her; touched her; been inside her; he didn’t have the patience to play games.

He licked at her folds, and his body rumbled with a carnal groan at the first taste of her nectar. “Fuck, baby, I forgot how good you taste,” he murmured into her folds before pushing his tongue through her slit to get to the tiny bundle of nerves.

Y/N whimpered and melted into his touch. A touch she hadn’t felt in so long and had missed desperately. Her fingers wound in his long hair, and her nails raked gently over his scalp. Jensen moaned at the sensation, a shiver running through his whole body. It never ceased to amaze him how her hands and fingers could be so soft and delicate but strong and rough when she wanted them to be.

He smirked into her folds as he remembered some of the times he’d have long, red scratches down his back, half-moon indents on his shoulders from her nails, or – his personal favourite – tiny fingerprint bruises on his arms from how she clung to him in the throes of passion. It’d been so fucking long since he’d felt any of those things, and he thanked his lucky stars that she wasn’t going to leave him. Lord knows she’d have been within her right to.

Jensen nipped and sucked at her swelling bud and brought his hand close to her entrance. He teased around her opening with gentle touches, dipping his finger into her before quickly circling it once more. Y/N’s moans and mewls, along with her dripping pussy had him on edge already. It took everything in him to keep from grinding into the bed, fearing he’d come untouched. 

Finally, Jensen pushed a finger inside her and moaned at the combination of her warm, wet heat and her fingers grabbing his hair, pulling almost to the point of pain. He shifted so he was on his knees, his head still steadfast between her legs, eating her like a starved man, and he guessed he was, in a way, having been starved of her touch for far too long.

Quickly, he shoved his free hand between his legs and wrapped it around the base of his length, squeezing firmly to stop his climax that was fast approaching. He took to thinking about sports stats because he desperately needed to calm the fuck down. It was like he was a teenager again, trying to hold off coming prematurely.

With some semblance of control back, he added another finger, groaning at her tightness. He knew then that he’d never last once he got his dick inside her. His own hands, or even hers, weren’t the same as being inside her. Even if he did squeeze his fist tight around himself to the point of pain, it would never compare.

Without much warning, her walls began to clamp down around his fingers, and he heard the squelch of her slick hole with every thrust of his fingers within her. It made him feel better to know he wasn’t the only one who would come quickly. And as much as he really wanted her to come again on his dick, he was satisfied in knowing he’d still gotten her off, so if the worst happened and he came before he was even fully inside her, he wouldn’t feel as bad.

Y/N’s fingers tightened in his hair again, and she moaned his name like a prayer. Jensen circled his tongue around her clit one last time before sucking it gently between his lips. Her whole body tensed as the pressure of her climax released and soaked his hand with her juices.

Jensen pumped his fingers until her body relaxed into the bed, and her fingers loosened their grip on his hair, leaving his scalp tingling deliciously with pleasurable pain. Placing a last kiss on her clit, he moved up her body trailing his lips over her stomach, up to her breasts and making sure he spent some quality time with them.

Licking and sucking on her firm nipples was one of his favourite things. He could spend days doing that, but as soon as Y/N circled her soaked core against his thigh for friction, he couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to be at one with his wife. He needed to feel whole again.

Swiftly, Jensen kissed the rest of the way until he reached her lips. They were puffy and swollen—no doubt from chewing on them through her earlier orgasm—and placed a soft kiss on them to soothe them. Resting his forehead on hers, he reached his hand between their bodies, lining up his thick, leaking cock with her entrance and slowly pushed forward.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered at the intrusion, and soft, gasping curses escaped her with every inch he pushed in. Jensen stopped halfway to lift one of her legs, placing it around his waist. She took his other hand, clasping it with hers, letting them lay entwined by her head.

Jensen’s large hand gripped her thigh and he pushed forward until he was fully sheathed inside her. His groan was loud and animalistic, sounding painful, but it was anything but. It was euphoric, and if he died right now, he’d go a really fucking happy man. And if the whimper that left her throat was anything to go by, she would too.

Y/N’s free hand reached up to cup Jensen’s cheek, and he nuzzled further into her touch and pressed his lips to her palm. “Baby, I'm not gonna last,” he whispered to her in the dark. “You feel too good.”

“‘S okay, me either. I’m already close,” Y/N smiled, wrapped her hand around his neck and pulled him down to her lips. It was a sloppy kiss, all teeth and too much tongue, but nothing had felt more perfect.

Jensen pulled his hips back and thrust forward, his grip on her thigh rough. He knew she’d have bruises, but something about knowing how she got them spurred him on, and his hips thrust harder and deeper.

When Y/N slid her hand down her body to work her clit, Jensen gave her a grateful smile. He was so close to coming, and although he already gave himself a pep talk about it, he really didn’t want the first time he made love to his wife in months to be over before he could watch her fall apart underneath him.

It didn’t take long before her walls began to spasm, and Jensen pushed her leg up so her knee was almost resting on her shoulder and went deeper with his next thrust, hitting that sweet spot inside. If he thought he would leave bruises on her before, he knew now that he definitely would.

Jensen’s hips kept up their deep thrusts until her walls stopped clenching, and her body lay limp underneath him. Finally, he allowed himself to let go. Shoving himself as far inside her as he could get, circling and grinding his hips, her high-pitched whine telling him he was pressing himself into her cervix.

Y/N’s big doe eyes fixed their gaze on him, her face luminous with her afterglow and biting on her bottom lip. “I love you, Jensen,” she whispered in the darkness.

“I love you too, Y/N,” he groaned as he jerked his hips impossibly deeper inside her, coming with a deep growl, painting her walls with his warm, sticky seed.

Jensen let go of her leg, smiling as it found a new home around his waist and lay his head on her chest, careful to keep his weight on his arms so he didn’t crush her. Y/N’s hands fixed themselves in his long hair, teasing the strands between her fingers and gently scratching at his scalp, making him shiver at the intimacy of the gesture.

“I will never make you doubt me again, baby,” Jensen murmured.

Y/N nodded and blinked, trying to shake off the emotion she felt. “I know, baby. I promise to talk to you more about how I feel when you’re working away.”

“And I promise to do the same,” Jensen said, raising himself on his elbows and bending down to kiss her slowly, passionately and filled with love. Her arms wrapped around his strong shoulders, not wanting to untangle her body from his yet.

Y/N grinned into her husband’s lips as she felt him harden within her again just as the sun broke over the horizon, bathing their bedroom in bright, golden light. As Jensen began to grind his hips, a giggle escaped her throat as she basked in the self-confidence she’d been missing for the past few months.

A day in bed with Jensen is just what Y/N needed.

THE END

<<Part One

Jensen / Dean Tags: @akshi8278 @deanwanddamonss @deans-baby-momma @siospins2 @sexyvixen7 @leigh70 @stoneyggirl2 @hobby27 @candy-coated-misery0731 @im-totally-not-dezi @supernaturalneurodivergentwolf @mrsfox79

#18+ #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles rpf #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles fanfic #angst #spn rpf

[siderealmaven]

New Moon in Aquarius 3.10.2014

“I tell my students, 'When you get these jobs that you have been so brilliantly trained for, just remember that your real job is that if you are free, you need to free somebody else. If you have some power, then your job is to empower somebody else. This is not just a grab-bag candy game.” ― Toni Morrison

Happy New Moon in Sidereal Aquarius!

Today we start a new chapter in our Sidereal Aquarius house, although this may feel less like a birth and more like a death. That is the nature of Saturn, it tells us the time and the importance of the moment we are in by highlighting the end of what no longer is. It may be helpful to look at the topics of your Aquarius House and consider what is ending or being let go of by you at this time. It may not be a physical thing or a person, in fact it’s likely to be an idea or a version of yourself that you can no longer find the space for.

With Mercury having just entered Pisces and officially putting us in Eclipse Season territory, it can be hard to articulate exactly what we are thinking and feeling. It’s almost like an iceberg. You can see the top sticking out of the water and you know something is floating your way. Perhaps you stand on top of this iceberg and are riding towards a specific destination. It seems simple enough, but there is more underneath the surface yet to be seen and understood. Perhaps you are the part of the iceberg that has yet to be revealed, patiently waiting for a moment that seems to never come. The more you try to communicate what it is you feel, the less sense you seem to make, even to yourself. No one else has seen and felt this iceberg but you and there is no one to validate it’s existence.

Jupiter in Aries tries to cope with this by relying on narratives of individual strength and willpower. Jupiter in Aries says: Well I don’t need anybody else to see and understand me. I can do this thing on my own! Jupiter in Aries says, if I have to float all day and all night until I figure out how to steer this thing then so be it. It makes wrong turns, it rubs against another ice berg and chips off some of it’s armor. It becomes so frustrated in it’s seemingly never-ending journey that it threatens to sink to the bottom of the ocean, never to be seen again. That will show them! Jupiter says.

And Mars in Capricorn reminds you: You can’t show anybody anything because nobody is watching. Nobody is here but you. If you do not show up for yourself now then nobody else will and when you sink, it will be nobody’s fault but your own. Is that what you really want? To give up on yourself before you have even seen the other side?

Mars in Capricorn demands that you put in the work to ensure your own survival because there is no other choice. It offers tools of self-discipline and resourcefulness but you will have to stretch beyond your boundaries to access them. You have to push past your self doubts concerning your capabilities and just Try. You have to contend with the fact that you will probably fail and lose some more of that icy armor before you get where you are going, but that doesn’t mean that you never will.

If sidereal Capricorn is a mountain that must be climbed in order to understand what the body is capable of, then sidereal Aquarius is an ice berg that must be excavated in order to understand the capabilities of the mind. We look at people and we see their bodies, we see their social class and financial status, but that is only scratching the surface of that person and who they are. What you see is not what you get, it’s not who they are, and it’s not who you are either.

Right now you might be feeling like Aang the Last Air Bender, long before he is ever found by Katara and Sokka. You may feel trapped in your own mind, doing some paralyzing self analysis and feeling like it doesn’t matter how much hard work you put into yourself it never seems to amount to anything. That no matter how much water you tread, you seem to still be floating in the same place. If only someone could see the wealth of your iceberg, if they would be curious enough to approach it, then you would be saved.

The lesson Saturn offers us right now is that everything comes in it’s own time. Aang had to wait a hundred years to be let out of his iceberg and the loss experienced during that time was insurmountable. He woke up to world without his family, friends, community, and culture. He woke up with nothing but himself, his memories, his beliefs and his values… and his power. He was free, but it came at a great cost. He was free, but he was alone. He had all of the power in the world and yet lost his reasoning for using it. Who was he going to protect now?

And yet Aang returned at the exact moment that he was meant to, just in time to meet Zuko and develop a friendship that would put an end to the hundred years war. He was just in time to meet Katara and Toph, the greatest water and earth benders of their time. Just in time to meet Sokka and his father, who gave Aang the strategy necessary to win those epic battles in S3.

Aang found new reasons to live and exercise his power that did not exist at the moment he became trapped in that iceberg. He was able to escape and save his world because Katara held a curiosity for him that even her entire village questioned. He was able to win because of the community that he fostered around him and the way they uplifted and held each other.

This New Moon, you may still be stuck in your iceberg, but this is not the time to sink or give up. This is a time to believe in your ability to make it through the maze of your own self-doubts and insecurities because you must. This is your time to practice your patience, your self-discipline, and build up your strength. Because when your iceberg finally cracks and you emerge into the light of day… it won’t be just you that is impacted by your presence and your power. You have a responsibility to use it to help and uplift others.

But first, you must practice helping and uplifting yourself.

Originally published to @siderealmaven's Patreon.

Thank you for reading! <3 

Do you guys like Avatar: The Last Airbender? If so, let me know your favorite episode of the original series. Mine is "The Tales of Ba Sing Se." 

#sidereal astrology #astroblr #sidereal zodiac #aquarius #sidereal aquarius #new moon #aquarius new moon #pisces mercury #capricorn mars #aries jupiter

[pynkhues]

Do you have post-Emmy predictions or thoughts for Snook's career?

Oooo, I'm actually not too sure? She's such an incredible actress, and I'd really love her to hit the A-list, but her choices even since Succession started and her star rose have been kind of odd ones? Like Pieces of a Woman was such a bit part for her, albeit one in an interesting art house movie, Run Rabbit Run saw her as the lead in a pretty terrible psychological thriller, and The Beanie Bubble? Just - - yeah.

Really odd choices.

I do suspect her career has likely been impacted a bit by the fact that she moved back to Australia, married another actor who has a steady, ongoing gig (Dave Lawson's a part of the core ensemble in Utopia which is a very good and very funny sitcom here!) and has had a baby, to say nothing of the pandemic, and I think she's perhaps still feeling out herself what she'd like her career to look like.

That said, I thought it was really smart that both Sarah and Jeremy have gone back to theatre for their first major roles post-Succession, and Sarah's move I think is particularly smart strategically given it's a Sydney Theatre Company production being performed on London's West End, which kind of relaunches her in theatre in two different spaces.

Sydney Theatre Company is a huge deal in Australia and a world class company - Cate Blanchett and her husband, Andrew Upton were co-artistic directors there for a number of years, and it's a home for many of Australia's best actors like Rose Byrne, Toni Collette, Hugo Weaving, Heather Mitchell (my beloved!!). Sarah already had a relationship with STC prior to Succession - having played Joan of Arc in the STC production of Saint Joan in 2018 - so for one of her first major roles after the series to be back at the Company does really feel like both a homecoming and an opportunity to ascend within the theatrical elite in Australia. The production though that she's in being in the UK's West End I feel offers that two-fold as well.

Getting back into STC though I think opens her doors again to local connections, particularly with the Cate Blanchett set and given Blanchett's been moving steadily into producing in Australia, I could see Sarah being cast in one of her productions? Hopefully a film, given The New Boy and Shayda were infinitely better than Stateless, haha.

In my experience with actors in Australia, the ones with young children tend to lean towards theatre residencies and TV because it's (generally speaking) better / more flexible hours and steadier work, and in many ways, Australian TV is having a bit of a renaissance right now with shows like The Newsreader, Deadloch and Boy Swallows Universe, so I could absolutely see her headlining a mini-series? Perhaps a literary adaptation?

I'd love to see her in something from Jane Campion, Jennifer Kent or Goran Stolevski, and I think all three are a possibility - Goran probably least at this stage just because he's such a new voice.

I think she'll probably pop back up in some US films and TV, and I think she'll probably land a few really meaty ones, but I do kind of think she might be more likely to work between Australia and the UK in the future? I couldn't quite tell you why, and I could be wrong, but yeah. I guess my prediction is that she'll have an incredible career, but I don't necessarily think it'll be US-centric post-Succession, or tremendously high profile.

#i mean #i would love her to be tracking for an a-list career but i actually don't even really think she wants that? #it's an interesting thing to think about #i just want her to be in good stuff #and the stc production is definitely good #i didn't get to see the original run in 2021 and i regret it soooo much #i've heard nothing but extremely excellent things about the one-woman dorian gray show #and i know she'll kill it #sarah snook #succession cast #welcome to my ama

[aurumacadicus]

As promised, more At Your Service AU! It is over 5K so look out for under the cut!

--

Tony is falling apart.

He’s very good at hiding it. He’s all smiles. He laughs at the right moments. He’d dropped his coffee, once, but he’d waved it off as not enough sleep.

It’s hard to lie when he’s curled up tight against Bucky’s chest, though. When Bucky can feel him shaking. His noises of distress are quiet, probably wouldn’t even be noticeable except for that Bucky’s hearing is better than a normal person’s. He looks miserable when he thinks no one is looking. Bucky is always looking, though. Tony rescued him. He owes him. He wants—he… he wants… His fingers ache with the desire to touch, to hold. Tony needs help. He could help him? Bucky wants—

He doesn’t know exactly what he wants.

I love you too, precious, rings in his ears, and he wonders where the fuck Steve is. He wouldn’t leave Tony to suffer like this. Bucky wonders why he knows that. He doesn’t know Steve, just accidentally spied on one private moment.

Tony is falling apart. Bucky doesn’t know how to help him. He doesn’t know if he can be gentle, like he’d seen Steve being. Doesn’t know if he has the right words. Doesn’t even know if he can go down on his knees. Weak. Weak. Tony needs him and he doesn’t know what to do.

Tony jerks from Steve’s hold when Steve finally arrives, and Steve’s eyes go wide and hurt, but he steps back obediently, holding his hands up so that nothing he does can be mistaken for trying to keep Tony there. Something in Bucky snarls, but Tony looks just as hurt as Steve, and Bucky doesn’t know what that means. He half-wishes that Steve would put Tony on his knees, scold him into behaving, but Steve just shakes his head in disappointment.

Tony makes a wounded noise but storms away instead of begging for forgiveness. He’s falling apart, fraying at the edges, and Steve seems to know that he can’t force him down, so he just lets him go, looking defeated.

Bucky thinks that Steve’s an idiot for letting Tony go. He also thinks Tony would have punched Steve right in the balls if he’d followed, so maybe it was the right choice. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything.

Tony is falling apart, and Bucky knows it’s only a matter of time before there’s nothing left to put back together.

.-.

Tony is in Bucky’s arms, shaking, sniffling quietly, trying to stay small and unobtrusive. He’s stopped responding to Bucky’s ‘good boy’s, although that could just be because they’d been growing increasingly panicked the less Tony reacted. He considers hunting down Bruce or Clint, because maybe they might know what to do, but he doesn’t think they could help with Tony this far gone. He pulls Tony close, tight against his chest, and Tony doesn’t even make a sound, doesn’t curl into him and cling like he had when they first met.

He stands there, helpless, until JARVIS gently says, “Might I suggest taking him to Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes?”

The elevator doors open, and Bucky obediently boards it, too helpless to resist. Steve isn’t in the living room when he enters, but JARVIS kindly urges him toward the bedroom. Bucky pauses just outside, too terrified to open the door, too terrified to enter the room. It feels… wrong. This is Steve and Tony’s bedroom. Theirs. A safe place for them. He shouldn’t be there. It’s… special. Personal. To them. To Tony. He needs to leave.

The door opens before he can set Tony down, and Bucky swallows thickly when he finds Steve standing there, staring at them. His gaze is solid, intense, feeling almost like a physical touch as it drifts from Tony to Bucky’s eyes and back again. Bucky feels like he’s been caught breaking some sort of rule. He feels like a criminal. This isn’t his sub. He has no right to be holding Tony like this. He feels like he’s standing on a tightrope, like the ground is too far down for them to survive the fall, and Steve would choose whether to push him off balance or not.

Still. There’s a part of him that seethes. Tony is hurting. Tony has needs he’s been ignoring, and it’s Steve’s job to take care of him as Tony’s Dom. Bucky knows he’s just trying to respect Tony’s wants—Tony has gnashed his teeth at everyone at least once—and to force him down against his will goes against Steve’s very being. He would never do something Tony didn’t want. But he’s been so respectful that Tony is suffering, is falling apart into himself, and it’s not fair that all Bucky can do is watch him hurt until Steve figures out what the fuck he’s doing.

Finally, Steve pushes the door open further, steps to the side to free the way. He leans his arm on the wall and just looks at them a little longer before he says, “Put him in his chair.”

Bucky scowls, something in him bristling at the order. He considers just leaving with Tony. Considers carefully setting Tony down and clocking Steve right in the fucking nose. But then Tony shifts in his arms, just a little, and the desperation to see him okay makes him step into the room. He shoulder-checks Steve, a little bit, but Steve doesn’t even have the decency to pretend to move, standing solid as an oak, face impassive.

Bucky hates him. Hates how he’s let Tony suffer, hates how he let Tony be a brat and refuse to be taken down. Hates that he’s so fucking respectful to the detriment of both of them. Hates that he can understand why Steve let it happen, because forcing some subs down could be just as dangerous as not taking them down at all.

And he hates that it settles something deep in his belly, that Steve is still so in control of himself. That Steve had quickly taken stock of Tony (of Bucky?) and taken charge immediately. That whatever he had been doing, it wasn’t as important as Tony and his health now.

Bucky plans to leave. He’s done his duty—Tony is with his Dom, and Steve clearly intends to take care of him whether Tony wants it or not, and while he worries for Tony’s safety, he also can’t help but remember the way Steve had gone down on his knees for him, had looked up at Tony through heavy-lidded eyes and said he loved him, how Tony was a good boy and he wanted to take care of him. This isn’t a place for him. This is a place for Tony, and Steve, and TonyandSteve. But Tony makes a little wounded sound as he tries to pull away, fingers twitching where they’ve curled around his sleeve. He freezes, feeling caught out for reasons he can’t (doesn’t want to) explain under Steve’s waiting eyes.

Steve glances between the two of them, crossing his arms over his chest. He drops them again quickly, and it’s only then that Bucky realizes he’d bristled again, jaw clenched, free hand fisted so tight his knuckles were white. He forces his jaw to relax, loosens up the grip of his fist (but only a little, just in case).

Steve looks at him, gaze piercing. Finally, he says, “Stay.”

Bucky stiffens. He wants to throw something at him. Wants to throw a punch. Wants to take Tony and fucking leave because who the hell does Steve think he is, ordering him around, he’s not Steve’s sub. He wasn’t even a good Dom back in the forties, why does he think he—

Bucky doesn’t know why he thinks Steve wasn’t a good Dom in the forties. He doesn’t know him.

Steve waits a little longer, then offers, “I think Tony would like you to stay.”

Bucky looks down at Tony. He doesn’t look like he’s in any position to want anything, eyes glazed over and little, distressed sounds sneaking out passed his tightly closed lips. But his fingers are still wrapped around Bucky’s sleeve. It would be easy to break his grip.

He doesn’t want to.

It’s… so much easier, knowing what he doesn’t want.

“I’ll get you a chair,” Steve says. Decisively. Bucky thinks he should argue, but he doesn’t want to do that either, too tired, too anxious, too worried about Tony and his suffering. “I’ll be right back.”

Tony makes another wounded noise, and Bucky almost says he can just stand there, but Steve is gone before he can stop him. He feels bereft, somehow. Hollowed. Alone, for all that Tony is also right there and clinging to him.

Steve returns a moment later, carrying a chair from the living room. He sets it right beside Tony’s. Gives the back of it a little pat. “Sit.”

Bucky glares up at him mulishly, but Tony had let out a shuddery little breath, and he figures it might be more comfortable to sit while Steve does… whatever. He sits because he wants to, not because Steve told him to.

Tony tightens his grip on his arm. Bucky carefully lifts his hand to break it, and Tony whimpers. It makes something in him shrivel up, but he doesn’t think too hard about what it could be. He takes Tony’s arm and holds it up so he can press their hands together, and Tony wastes no time lacing their fingers together and gripping tight. Bucky wishes, for a moment, that he’d been able to offer him the warmth of his flesh hand.

Steve circles from behind them, detouring over to the bedside table which—opens into a miniature refrigerator. Bucky can’t help the way his mouth drops open as he stares at it, filled with bottled juice and water and little red pucks of something. Why is his bedside table a refrigerator? He doesn’t understand at all. Bucky turns his gaze on the matching table, distrustful. Is it an oven?

Steve shuts the door, turning to show two bottles of water in one hand and a handful of the red pucks in the other. He walks over slowly, but there’s nothing hesitant in his steps. His eyes are watching, calculating, and it startles Bucky when he realizes that part of it is directed at him. He scowls. Tony needs help. Steve needs to stop looking at him, stop trying to see whatever he’s looking for, and just focus on his sub.

“Here,” Steve says, and shoves the bottles of water at him, and Bucky fumbles for them with his one hand.

Bucky lifts his hand to chuck them right back at him, but he freezes in shock instead when Steve drops to his knees in front of Tony. He doesn’t know why it shakes him so much. He’d seen Steve go down on his knees for Tony once before, had seen how unashamed he was, how Tony had gazed down at him without an ounce of disgust. Bucky can’t imagine a Dom ever going down on their knees for him. Doesn’t know if he even wants it—but Tony had let out a shuddery breath, and it makes him think that even if it does nothing for him, it surely does everything for Tony.

“Sweetheart, have you eaten anything?” Steve asks Tony, picking at one of the red pucks, and—oh, a wax covering for cheese. Bucky can’t help but approve; it was good calories in a small amount, was full of nutrients, and usually tasted good. He held it up to Tony’s mouth. “Take a bite for me, honey?”

Tony turns his head away. Bucky feels his mouth dropping open in shock. Even now, he’s going to turn away help? With Steve on his knees in front of him, wanting to take care of him? Bucky glances around, searching helplessly for a way to soothe him, but he realizes he wouldn’t know help if it slapped him in the face. He looks back at Steve. Steve is his Dom. If he doesn’t know what to do to help, they’re all out of luck.

Steve stares at Tony for a long, long time, considering, before he hands the tiny wheel of cheese to Bucky. “Hold this.”

Bucky takes it, too concerned to put up a fight, and watches as Steve simply drops the unopened ones onto the floor between his legs. Steve reaches up, cupping Tony’s cheeks, not allowing him to turn his head no matter how much he tries or whimpers. He tilts Tony’s head this way and that, like he can see something Bucky can’t. He wonders what Steve is seeing. All Bucky can see is Tony’s glassy eyes and lips bruised from his own teeth.

Finally, though, Steve must find what he’s looking for, because he smiles, and he runs his thumb over Tony’s lips, and he says, “I know exactly what you need, sweetheart.”

Bucky almost asks what, and how, and what the fuck, but the words get caught in his throat, because the only reaction Tony has is to tighten the grip on his hand.

Steve drops his hands, slowly, sliding the backs of his fingers down Tony’s throat, and Bucky watches, enthralled, as Tony’s eyes flutter shut, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down under Steve’s fingers. Steve trails the tip of one finger over the collar of Tony’s shirt, then slides down to the first button at his chest, flicking it open with experienced ease and leaning in to press a kiss to the exposed skin there. Bucky feels Tony’s hand tighten around his, but he can’t bring himself to do more than make some sort of noise in the back of his throat to acknowledge him, too engrossed with the fact that Tony’s shoulders are relaxing with each opened button, each kiss to every inch of exposed skin.

“Steve,” Tony finally whimpers when Steve gets down to the last button.

Steve lifts his head to look at him, blinking slowly, before he asks, “Is this okay, sweetheart? You want me to take off this uncomfortable shirt for you? Get you into your nice, comfy robe?”

“Robe,” Tony mewls.

“Yeah, I knew you’d like that,” Steve says, voice full of warmth and affection, and Bucky feels himself blushing. He doesn’t know why. He wishes he hadn’t. He doesn’t… hate it though.

Steve glances at him, and Bucky almost punches him when he notices the smirk playing at his lips, but then Steve returns his full attention to Tony. Which is good. Because that’s where it ought to be. “Bucky’s gonna help you with your shirt while I go get your robe. It’s on the towel warmer in the bathroom. I’m not leaving. I’m just fetching your robe.”

“Steve,” Tony whimpers again, eyes opening, liquid and sad.

“I’m not leaving,” Steve repeats firmly, then turns his gaze on Bucky again. “Unbutton that last button and help him get his arms out of the sleeves. I won’t be gone a minute.”

Bucky almost shouts ‘no!’ in terror, but it gets caught in his throat when he notices Tony’s head rolling toward him as well. Tony blinks at him, once, twice, then finally lets go of his hand. Bucky feels untethered, almost bereft, but then Tony is shyly offering him his arm, apparently thinking nothing of Bucky being the one to strip him so long as Steve said so. Bucky swallows the lump in his throat, staring at it, then sets the puck of cheese and water bottles he’s still holding aside and slides out of the chair to take the same position Steve was now rising from.

He hates being on his knees, immediately, and he can’t help the way his jaw tightens in response. He’s about to shove himself back up onto his feet, to leave the room, but then Tony makes a wounded noise, pulling his wrist back to his chest, head dropping down with shame as he mumbles out, distressed, “’m sorry. ‘ll be good. ‘m sorry.”

Bucky feels like it would have hurt less if Tony just punched him. “No,” he says, voice hoarse, and regrets it instantly when Tony’s expression goes stricken, and all he can get out are increasingly desperate ‘I’ll be good’s. Bucky swallows again, lifting his hands to the last button still done on Tony’s shirt, and he says, “You are good, Tony,” and fumbles the button open with shaking fingers.

Tony falls limp in his seat like his strings have been cut, even as his chest heaves for breath. As if the prospect of Bucky not being pleased with him was equivalent to sprinting a marathon, or trying to balance on a razor’s edge. Bucky swallows again, shame curdling in his belly. It’s not Tony’s fault that Bucky doesn’t know how to take care of him. Bucky can barely take care of himself.

“You’re good,” Bucky repeats softly, almost a whisper, and carefully takes one of Tony’s wrists to cradle in his hands as he undoes the button on his cuff. “You’re good, Tony.”

“A sweet boy,” Steve calls from the bathroom, matter-of-fact and endlessly fond.

Bucky flushes again, grateful that Steve hadn’t been there to see him fumbling like an idiot, to see him causing his sub distress. “A good, sweet boy,” he mumbles, almost too embarrassed to repeat the words, but Tony just relaxes more, softening, sweet and open like he had been when Steve had left. Bucky has to struggle to get the sleeve off of him, because Tony is beyond helping at this point, limp and quiet. Still, getting it off feels like a victory, and he remembers the way Steve had kissed Tony’s chest, so he leans in, presses his lips to the delicate skin over Tony’s pulse.

“Buck,” Tony breathes, more exhale than word, and Bucky can’t help the wounded sound he presses into Tony’s skin in response.

It takes a moment for Bucky to get his bearings, remembering belatedly that Tony has two arms, there’s another cuff to unbutton and arm to free from his shirt. Another wrist to press a tender kiss to. He sucks in a wet breath and finally leans back, blinking slowly. He feels like he’s moving through syrup as he gently lays the hand he’s still cradling in Tony’s lap, has to focus more on his fingertips meeting the button on his remaining sleeve. His fingers aren’t shaking now, he realizes distantly. He can barely feel them at all, though, too focused on the way Tony’s lips have parted, still breathing hard, staring at him with pupils so blown he can’t possibly see him.

Only when he feels a hand on the back of his neck does Bucky realize he’s breathing, open-mouthed and hot, against the bare skin of Tony’s other wrist. The cuff button has been ripped clean off the shirt, the slit torn up to his elbow, pale and vulnerable. He almost balks at the grip, wants to shake it off, beat the shit out of Steve and grab Tony and leave forever—

“Good boy, taking care of my sub for me,” Steve says, obviously pleased, and Bucky can’t stop the shaky breath it punches out of him if he tries.

Bucky watches, eyes heavy-lidded and mouth fallen open to suck in deep breaths, as Steve carefully peels the rest of the sleeve from Tony’s arm, casually tosses it away as if it doesn’t matter, even though he knows, somewhere inside him, that Steve hates mess. He eases Tony’s arms into the robe he’s fetched, taking a moment to fuss with the way it lays across Tony’s shoulders. Then he deftly unbuckles Tony’s belt, unbuttons and unzips his jeans, and yanks them off in a movement so swift that even if he wanted to (and Bucky doesn’t know if he wanted to), Bucky can’t look away before Tony’s laid bare before him, robe pooling around his hips where he's still propped up in the seat, liquid and pliable and so, so vulnerable.

A slight widening of eyes and a glance down at the jeans in his hands is the only hint that Steve is just as pleasantly surprised by Tony’s nakedness as Bucky is, but he takes it in stride easily, smile curving his lips as he reaches out to pull the robe closed, giving Tony back his modesty, if he ever had it to begin with. “There you go, sweetheart. All comfy in your nice, warm robe.” He lifts his hand, cups Tony’s cheek so he can ease his head up to make eye contact with him. “Can you eat for me, sweetheart?”

Tony’s brows twitch together. He makes a sad sort of keening noise, and Bucky scowls up at Steve, hands gripping into fists.

“It’s okay if you can’t,” Steve assures quickly, and Bucky isn’t sure who he’s talking to, but he feels himself relax again anyway. “I know sometimes you get too deep and can’t eat. If I put you on the bed, will you be a good boy and drink a little water for me?” When Tony doesn’t immediately respond, he slants a coy glance over at Bucky. “I think Bucky would like it if you would.”

He would, but it rankles Bucky something terrible that Steve can tell. Still. Steve is… Steve is different, from all the Doms Bucky remembers. He goes down on his knees, and he whispers ‘I love you’s, and makes Tony admit he’s a good boy even when it looks like he doesn’t want to. He must be able to sense something. Maybe that’s good. Bucky doesn’t know much, but he does know that Tony is a hard sub to gain trust from—had watched him snarl and snap at any attention he didn’t want until he physically couldn’t take care of himself anymore. Until Bucky thought he might shrivel away, helpless and horrified, watching need and terror war in Tony’s bloodshot eyes even as he slowly crumpled to the ground at Bucky’s feet.

Maybe, a Dom like Steve wouldn’t have a choice but to know everything about stubborn, bratty subs.

“Water,” Tony finally mumbles, faint, probably quiet enough that if he hadn’t had the serum, Bucky wouldn’t have been able to hear it.

“Good,” Steve says, obviously proud of him, and Tony flushes pink, eyelids heavy. “My sweet boy. I knew you’d make the right answer.”

“Bucky?” Tony adds, just as quiet, and something in Bucky thrums painfully when he realizes that Tony is shy again, obviously too afraid to ask for what he wants.

Bucky swallows thickly, feeling lost. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s not Tony’s Dom. He doesn’t know if he’d be a good one even if he was. He’d wanted to spank Tony, bully him until he cried and broke apart into pieces so that he could put him back together again. Obviously, that wouldn’t have worked, with the way he’s still putty in Steve’s hands, bolstered enough by his Dom’s presence to ask for… Bucky doesn’t know what he’s asking for. He glances at Steve, helpless. Steve must know. He’s Tony’s Dom. He must. He knew what Tony needed as soon as Bucky carried him in. He must know what he needs now.

Steve’s gaze is calculating when Bucky finally meets it, expression betraying nothing. Finally, he says, “He wants to cuddle with you.”

Bucky feels pride swell in his chest, but it just as quickly deflates. He loves cuddling with Tony. Tony is the only one who melts on top of him, completely at ease. The other switches try, of course. He can tell they’re worried about him. But none of them let their guard down like Tony does, guileless and trusting even though he absolutely shouldn’t. He doesn’t want to hurt him. He wants to help.

But he doesn’t know how. If he even can.

Bucky sucks in a shuddering breath, turning to look at Tony again. There’s hope in his expression, but it starts fading the longer Bucky doesn’t answer. Bucky hates it. He wishes he could reassure Tony just as easily as Steve does. At a loss, he looks back at Steve, something in him desperate to be told what to do, how to ease Tony’s disappointment. How to melt like Tony does with seemingly no effort, after being so ready to snarl and fight his way out of being taken down.

“Get on the bed, Bucky,” Steve says, firm, but not unkindly.

Bucky is getting up before he even realizes it, only stops when Tony makes another wounded sound, hand reaching out to hook into his belt. He freezes. He doesn’t want to hurt Tony. It would be so easy, like this. So easy anytime, but especially like this.

Steve blinks at Tony’s outstretched arm for a moment, stunned, then lets out a huff of amusement, shaking his head. He leans in, pressing his face into Tony’s neck, just for a moment, then leans back, smiling at him. “You’re such a good, smart sub, Tony. Always one step ahead of me, even like this. My good, sweet boy.”

Tony’s lips curve into a smile in response, and he breathes out a shy, ‘thank you, Captain,’ and ducks his head, cheeks going rosier.

Steve turns his attention back to Bucky, smile going wry. “Tony thinks you’ll be more comfortable without your gear.”

“I don’t want to be naked,” Bucky answers immediately, and only belatedly realizes it could be insulting. Luckily, neither Tony nor Steve look put out.

“You won’t be,” Steve assures him, carefully getting to his feet. He holds his hands up. “May I?”

Bucky doesn’t want him to, not really, but he can see the merit in Tony not having to cuddle up to stiff leather or cold metal. He grits his teeth, directing his eyes to the ground, and mutters, “Don’t fuckin’ kiss me. I’m not your sub.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees easily. He reaches toward him slowly, and Bucky fights the urge to slap his hands away, to run out of the room, away from the tower, and never come back. “Okay. I’m going to take your jacket, belt, and boots, and that’s all. Is that okay?”

He supposes it is. Bucky huffs, frustrated. “I guess.”

“I have some sweatpants, if you don’t want to cuddle in your jeans,” Steve adds kindly. “They’ll fit you.”

Bucky grunts as he allows Steve to pull his jacket off. “I don’t want you to take off my pants.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees again, not put out in the slightest.

“I can do that myself,” Bucky adds, glaring up at him sullenly. “Boots too.”

“Okay,” Steve repeats simply, giving his jacket one sharp snap and turning to walk across to the closet. He pauses by Tony, cupping his cheek and offering him a fond smile, then continues to the closet, where he pulls out a hanger and hooks it into his jacket.

Bucky watches him out of the corner of his eye as he kneels to untie his boots. Steve carefully hangs his jacket on the outside of the closet, so he can see it, then steps back inside, out of sight, and he can hear him rustling around inside. Grabbing sweatpants, he supposes. He turns his attention back to Tony. He looks much better than he had when Bucky had carried him in—still wan, in some ways, but he doesn’t look as exhausted, as sad and angry. Nicer, somehow, with that flush to his cheeks, in a comfy robe that he leans into instead of fought against.

His fingers fumble over his belt when he remembers how Tony’s skin had felt beneath his lips. It had been so warm and soft. He can’t believe Steve could tear himself away, with Tony mewling and whimpering for him like he had.

“Here,” Steve says, finally stepping out of the closet and chucking a pair of black sweatpants at him.

Bucky watches as he keeps walking back over to Tony, using their distraction with each other to toe out of his boots and shove his pants down. He’s not prude, or anything—doesn’t actually care if they do see him in his state of undress. But it feels… like stealing. Like Tony should be the only one having his needs met right now, after how bad he looked earlier. How bad he still kinda looked, like one wrong move would make him sink back into himself, quiet and lost.

Steve lifts Tony easily, one arm under his knees, the other behind his back. He presses his lips to the top of Tony’s head, murmurs something that Bucky chooses not to hear, it feels too intimate. He still feels like he’s intruding. Like he should leave and never come back, except Tony keeps looking at him, as if he’s looking for reassurance that he’s right, that this is good, and it so he stays, because if he left, he thinks Tony might believe it to mean it’s bad. Bucky doesn’t understand, and some of the things Steve does make him very uncomfortable, but he’s sure it can’t be bad, if Tony was able to be taken down by it.

Steve sets Tony in the middle of the bed, and Bucky fights the urge to squirm as he realizes what he’s about to do. He’s intruding. Tony has Steve. But they both look at him expectantly, although with different weights to it—Steve looks at him like he’s waiting to see what Bucky will do. Tony looks at him like he’s being held together with duct tape and him leaving will rip it all off.

Bucky gets on the bed. It’s more comfortable than the floor he’s been cuddling with everyone on, he supposes, even if he feels criminal, somehow. Tony turns to curl up against him immediately, almost greedily, and Bucky doesn’t flinch, but barely. He glances up at Steve, nervous, but Steve just smiles, endlessly fond. So he curls his arm around Tony, pulling him closer, propping him up when he notices that Steve has stepped away to grab one of the bottles of water he’d set aside before.

“There you go, sweetheart,” Steve says, smiling, as he twists the cap off. He doesn’t offer it to Bucky, and Bucky would be offended, except he feels Tony going stiff and nervous in his arms, eyes on the mouth of the bottle, and he thinks that something terrible happened to Tony. Maybe not because of Steve, but Steve is the one who has learned how to deal with it.

Tony sips a quarter of the bottle before he finally turns his head away, hiding his face in Bucky’s chest with a muted whimper. Bucky watches Steve carefully, to see what he’ll do. Steve looks a little disappointed, but only because Tony can’t see him, and only out of concern. Bucky supposes he can respect that. He doesn’t know when Tony ate last, let alone how hydrated he is. Still, even he can sense that it’s not something he should push, especially with the way Steve carefully puts the cap back on and then hides both water bottles back in the fridge, away from Tony’s eyes.

“You’re such a good boy for me, Tony,” Steve says once that’s done, any hint of disappointment or concern gone, and Bucky can’t help but marvel at that even as Tony relaxes further against him. “Such a sweet sub, letting me take care of you even when you don’t want to be. I love you so much,” he adds, reaching out to grab his hand. He lifts it to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles. “My sweet boy. I’m sorry I let you get in such poor shape. I’ll take care of you now, though.”

“Hmm,” Tony hums, acknowledging, and belatedly manages a sighed ‘yes, Captain.’

Bucky just watches, feeling out of place, like he should leave, but Tony tucks his face further into his chest with a sigh that makes his whole body go limp. He pulls Tony closer, mostly because the way he’s fallen looks uncomfortable, but he lifts his gaze to Steve as he does it, gathering Tony into his arms.

Steve just looks back at him, quiet. Thoughtful, maybe, except that his shoulders are also falling, and it makes Bucky think that Steve was just playing at knowing exactly what Tony needed. It scares him. But it… it had worked. Tony is soft and pliable in his arms. Then again, Tony had been in such a state when Bucky had brought him to Steve, maybe Steve had just been worried he wasn’t prepared.

Steve sighs, running his hands through his hair as he watches Tony drift off to sleep in Bucky’s arms, then looks at Bucky, sighing again. “What do you think about spaghetti and meatballs?”

“…’s food,” Bucky said, narrowing his eyes skeptically.

Steve nods slowly, frowning. “Will you stay with him while I cook? I know he’s sleeping, but I hate to leave him alone. He needs something solid, and he’ll probably be more willing to eat when he wakes. Can you do that for me, Bucky?”

Well. Tony does look like he should eat four big plates of pasta, Bucky supposes. He supposes, too, that it would be poor form to leave him alone, when he could wake up and feel abandoned. And Steve had… he’d asked, not ordered, like he had earlier. And that’s… fine. Bucky finds, to his surprise, that he doesn’t mind. Tony is a warm, steady weight in his arms. The bed is comfortable. It doesn’t take long to cook pasta. He’d seen sauce come in jars now, too. “Okay,” he says, and Steve beams at him, reaches out, thinks better of it and simply pulls his hand back and nods, turning to stride from the room quickly.

This isn’t the worst thing he’s ever had to do, he figures. It’s not a chore. He likes it, if he thinks about it, having Tony in his arms, protecting him. Thinks he might like the trust Steve has in him, too, if he lets himself. Decides not to. Steve isn’t his Dom. He’s just doing him a favor. It’s fine. He wants to make sure Tony is well taken care of, after all.

He doesn’t think about the way he’d felt on his knees, or how he’d felt watching Tony go soft and sweet under Steve’s casual praise. He wonders, for a moment, if he could ever do the same. Decides not to follow that train of thought—it’s fine, for Tony. Maybe for the other switches in the tower. Not for him.

Although…

Bucky looks down at Tony, where he’s letting out little puffs of breath against his chest. Tony had been so stubborn about not going down, almost fearful, had looked up at Steve with sullen eyes. And yet he’d still let himself be taken down, hesitant and nervous as he was. That must mean something. It does.

He hears the sound of pots clattering in the kitchen and cups the back of Tony’s head, pulling him in closer so as to protect him all he can from the sound. Well. That’s something to think about later. He’s got a job to do now. He’s going to focus on that.

#aurumacadicus writes #at your service au

[estherquesada]

For my TonyxJulia budies, here’s another dose of serotonin for y’all (sorry, I don’t know to answer reblogs. I hope this is enough). ;) It will be the last one for now since I have too much work, but I hope you like it. I sure did! XD 

As for what’s going on here... I imagine that Tony was sad for something Julia said and now she feels guilty, so she gives him some love in return, to which he totally agrees on >///< . (I’m open to other interpretations, you can choose ;) ).  On another note, I know that most people like Sahed, but I’ve been wondering... Sahed is not a bad character and I also like him, but he’s kind of selfish in his own way and I have the feeling that he only represents physical attraction for Julia. 

Tony, on the other hand, cares about everybody (at least, for now), and he’s been trying to help her. He actually seems to care for her the more the story moves forward, so I think he would be a much better representation of love, given the circumstances. 

In other words, Julia seems to be attracted to Sahed, but I can see a kind of strong friendship coming up between her and Tony. Maybe I’m wrong, but (if we remove the fact that he’s the one she must kill), he might be much healthier as a companion. Again, I don’t know what’s coming in future episodes, so things might change later. For now, he’s my first choice. We’ll see how Miriam handles it in the end. ;)

*Characters from the webtoon Marionetta, by Miriam Bonastre Tur. 

*Fanart by Esther Quesada. 

*You can share but please keep the pics together with the name of the artist and a link to the original source. Thank you! 

#tony x julia #marionetta webtoon #Marionetta #sketch #Marionetta Webtoon Fanart #fanart #tony #julia #anthonn #anthulia #anthonn gremminger #julia lazarrett #love #kiss #blue #love story #digitalart #miriam bonastre #Esther Quesada #webtoon

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 4 – STUCKONY FAVORITES

Comic Books and Kings by ashes0909

Pairing: Steve/Bucky/Tony Rating: E Words: 10,503 Tags: Childhood Crush, Pining, Possessive Supersoldiers

Summary: Tony Stark read Captain America comics and everyone knew it, but it was only ever about Bucky Barnes.

Reasons why I love it: I love love LOVE when fics take on the whole fanboy Tony angle, and seeing it applied to Tony's obsession with Bucky instead of Steve is really fucking fun. Also Captain Wonderbread as a nickname makes me unreasonably happy. I just want to smoosh these three idiots together, but luckily they get there all on their own. Check this one out, you won't regret it!

journeyman by orphan_account

Pairing: Steve/Bucky/Tony Rating: M Words: 6,165 Tags: Tony & Strange Friendship, Telepathic Bond, Space Travels

Summary: /Old man/Tony thinks, resigned. /This could be my sea. Space, the final frontier./ Steve thinks as hard as he can: come home. /Not like anyone's waiting for me back on earth, anyways./ Steve puts his fist through a wall. [alternately: Tony wanders through space while Steve and Bucky listen to his thoughts]

Reasons why I love it: I came for the Stuckony and was blindsided by how much I loved the parts of the fic where Tony and Strange are bickering their way through space, with some great cameos from the Guardians. That being said, the Stuckony is fucking fantastic, and I hope you give this fic a try, because it's definitely one of my favorites.

1994 by orphan_account

Pairing: Steve/Bucky/Tony Rating: M Words: 6,495 Tags: Fem!Tony, Angst with a Happy Ending, Miscommunication

Summary: Tony goes blonde for a few months. She isn’t nuts about it, but Steve and Bucky really seem to hate it, which is a good selling point. The press are convinced it's the beginning of a mental break. They might not be totally wrong.

Reasons why I love it: Toni's characterization here is top notch. I really love a femme fatale, but her soft spots are what really make this fic so great. The writing style of mystery author is also really cool, almost poetic in some parts of the fic. Getting these small, really poignant timestamps throughout the plot feels really refreshing, and the pacing is great. Definitely read this one if you like Toni being an irresistible temptation to the superserum duo.

Sharing is Caring by SailorChibi

Pairing: Steve/Bucky/Tony Rating: M Words: 3,837 Tags: A/B/O (Alpha Bucky and Steve, Omega Tony), Heat Cycles, Bad Guys Made Them Do It

Summary: When Steve goes into a rut while he and Tony are kidnapped by Hydra, Tony is convinced that what happens between them is going to ruin everything. He's wrong.

Reasons why I love it: I'm a sucker for all things sex pollen, x made them do it, fuck or die shenanigans, and if you are too, then this fic is right up your alley. Add to that the delicious moral dilemma of Tony trying to protect the sanctity of Steve's and Bucky's relationship along with a mutual guilt complex, and you've got an amazing fic right there. Plus, the writing style is fantastic, so that just elevates it to the next level. Definitely give this one a read!

Hide A Heart Of War by RayShippouUchiha

Pairing: Steve/Bucky/Tony Rating: T Words: 13,617 Tags: Flowers, Soul Marks, Pining

Summary: “You’ve got war in your heart boy,” Howard sneers, “don’t ever try and pretend to be anything but what you are.” Tony feels the familiar burn of a flower mark being etched into his skin but he doesn’t look, doesn’t try and check to see what it is. Instead he keeps his eyes on Howard and his hands cupped around his bleeding mouth and nose.

Reasons why I love it: You've probably read this fic already, but Jesus Christ, go and read it again right now because it deserves all the love it can get. The whole concept is godtier, and the choices for which characters have which flower marks are so goddamn brilliant, I just – fucking hell, I love this fic so much. If you by some miracle haven't read this one yet, go and do it now! I promise, there is no better use of your time!

#marvel #stuckony #fic rec #fanfic #fanfic rec #a year in fanfic recs

[scavengerssuccotash]

Hi! I love your clintasha stuff so much.

Do you have any headcanons for clintasha angst?! I’ve always imagined that with their age gap, nat’s closeness to Steve (in the MCU anyway), Clint’s insecurities and hidden anger streak (as seen in Endgame with Ronin), and the fact that they both have quite dominant personalities, conditions can sometimes be ripe for an argument.

And when they do fight, they fight! Like all the avengers/SHIELD are on edge for days because of the tension. And eventually one of them just gets so upset not having the other there that they will work up the courage to apologize.

Aww! Why thank you so much I’m glad you’re enjoying them!

I picture the fights between Clint and Nat to be a micro equivalent of the Cold War. Well, unlike the Cold War it does get hot! (Pun intended!) Picture the Cuban Missile crisis but make it between two very dominate and very opinionated and highly skilled individuals whose combined capabilities could level any building with a three block radius.

That my friend is what happens when Clint and Nat trade blows. Fortunately for New York and Avengers Tower they’ve managed to reserve their anger to sharp-tongued barbs and egg-shell tense silence. At least while in front of the team…until one or the other cracks and a dish gets thrown.

(Clint threw a coffee cup and missed Natasha obviously, Natasha predictably got offended that he missed on purpose. Steve had to cut in between them, which only redirected their anger onto him much to his supreme confusion.

“Oh wow look at Cap really putting your namesake to use huh? Do you have a list of thirteen points?!”

“Kindly fuck off old man, not every fight needs your fucking help!”

Clint and Nat promptly shared a look. Twenty minutes later everyone heard the ‘kiss and make-up’)

Clint definitely has an anger streak roughly six miles long but he hides it very very well. It took Phil a lot of blood (literally), sweat, and tears to help Clint get a handle on his shit when he first joined SHIELD. While his anger bursts are few and far in between, when they do explode out of him he has at least learned to redirect that anger onto his physical surroundings and be mindful that maybe punching a concrete wall wouldn’t do his shooting hand well. One of the first things Natasha ever gave him was a tennis ball. She picked it up on a whim during a mission because Clint was annoyingly restless, and figuratively bouncing off the walls with energy that he needed to expend but couldn’t because the mission was geared towards her skill set rather than his. He still has it to this day and whenever he feels the tell-tell hotness burning up his spine that comes with a burst of anger he’ll take out the tennis ball and start ricocheting it off the walls. (It drives Tony absolutely fucking nuts.)

Natasha’s anger is far more…precise. Like a surgeon’s scalpel compared to the mini nuke that is Clint’s. She specializes in using silence, passive aggression and careful word choice to express her anger, which inevitably triggers Clint’s mouth because he hates getting ignored. Especially by her. If by the fourth day neither of them crack Clint will start the truce with her favorite meal, a hot drawn bath and a list of apologies. Afterwards they’ll talk it out, between rounds of sex. (Clint’s of the mind that Natasha will just start some if the fights for the make up sex. Natasha only confirms this much later when physically backed into a corner. He really can’t blame her, he’s done it at least once or twice.)

Natasha’s apologies require a lot less forethought. Clint drops whatever argument they’re having at the sight of her bare breasts, along with his pants. This neat trick lasted for ohh about the second big blow out, when Clint afterwards rolled over and demanded that if she was gonna just fuck their problems away they might as well call it quits. “Don’t get me wrong you’ve got great tits and the sex is mind blowing but if great tits and mind blowing sex is all it takes we’ve got bigger problems, Tasha.” In the end they keep the sex, but Natasha makes an effort to truly truly talk it all out, which in returns Clint rewards. Quite enthusiastically.

For the more minor spats, they save those for the training mats, trading punches and ass pinches. By the time that’s all done they’re lying on their backs sweating through their clothes and laughing. They might be dating, but ultimately they’re competitive best friends through and through.

#ask me #clint barton #hawkeye #clintasha #natasha romanoff #black widow #marvel #personal #fandom

[lexosaurus]

Ectoberweek 25: Forgotten Bones

Prompt: 1. Forest 2. He thinks about the corpse in the woods sometimes. Hard to forget where you are buried.

Characters: Johnny 13, Danny Phantom WC: 1145

———

“I don’t know if I should tell them,” Phantom said, his head hung low and his elbows resting on his knees. It was easy to forget how small the kid was when he trampled around his haunt like some tyrannical overlord, squashing any trespassers before they could say ‘hello.’

Johnny 13 blew the cigarette smoke from his throat and watched it fizzle into the crisp air.

“I feel bad because there’s supposed to be no more secrets, you know? They said they accepted me, so I don’t know why…”

“I never told anyone,” Johnny said. 

He might have felt amusement toward Phantom’s owlish reaction if he was in better humor. But then, Johnny was never one to talk about his past.

Most ghosts weren’t.

“Really?” Phantom asked.

“Yup.”

“Why?”

He mulled it over. “It was nobody’s business.”

It was unsurprising to see the kid’s unconvinced expression. Ghost intuition and all. 

Because even Phantom knew that unresolved deaths don’t just resolve after a few years of being a ghost. That even if the memories get altered during ghost-formation, the pain never goes away.

The moment never disappears.

It was just his luck he’d get trapped in this situation. Dragged to the forest by a group of faceless, fuzzy men—he couldn’t remember what they looked like—and surrounded with guns drawn and flashlights pointed in his eyes, casting long shadows behind him.

“Please,” Johnny begged. “You have the wrong guys.”

“That’s not what I heard,” the leader said. Beside him, his thug pressed his gun into Kitty’s temple.

“The money or the girl. Your choice.”

“Nobody’s business,” Johnny reiterated, tapping the fresh ash from his cigarette.

The Boy Scout beside him was too out of it to make an annoying remark about littering or whatever the hell dumb thing he’d usually say.

“But Kitty knows, right?”

“She was there, moron.”

“Right, but…” Phantom turned away, sheepish. “Not everyone remembers.”

“Well, you’d have to ask her then. Not everyone was insane enough to—what did you do again?”

If anything, Phantom looked even smaller as he spoke, “...I buried it in the woods.”

“Right, exactly. Most of us don’t bury our own fucking corpses in the woods.”

“And yet, you and I are both in the same place.”

Johnny looked out at the dark sky, noting the speckles of stars that danced around each other. And it occurred to him that, well shit, maybe they were in the same place. Maybe they were both stuck leading an afterlife based off of forgotten skin, forgotten bones.

Forgotten bodies.

But no, they weren’t the same. “Even if I wanted to change it now, I couldn’t. There’s nobody to tell.”

Kitty’s terrified eyes met his, and Johnny nearly collapsed on the spot. The flashlights suddenly seemed too bright, too blinding.

“I’m telling you, it wasn’t us.”

“Really? You weren’t at Tony’s last Tuesday?”

Johnny took a step back, nearly tripping over a root. “No! No, that’s not—”

“You’re calling Tony a liar?”

“—No, please!”

“You could always tell the police. Lead them to your…” 

Now that Johnny did chuckle at. “And what do you think would come out of that, kid? Surrender my bones over to the police—and for what, exactly? Justice? Revenge? Kid, I died forty years ago. Do you know what happens to bodies that stay in the dirt for forty years?”

“Well, I was going to say that it might give you some closure, but—”

“Then what’s stopping you?” Johnny said, stamping his cigarette out on the cement roof. “Maybe you should be less worried about me, a guy who’s living out his afterlife doing the thing he loves with the girl of his dreams, and more focused on yourself, who’s clearly so upset you had to come to me for advice.”

Phantom blushed green, and the brief spark of smug fire vanished from his eyes. “I didn’t come to you, you were just already here.”

“And? You’re still talking to me.”

Phantom grumbled but otherwise didn’t argue.

And thank goodness for that too, because Johnny hadn’t come to Earth for a therapy session. He didn’t want to relive that night. He didn’t want to think about what happened. He didn’t want to remember the feel of the brush scraping his legs, the dirt that stained his skin, the guns pressed against their backs as they were led further into the forest, closer and closer to The End.

The sound of Kitty’s voice. The tears on her face. The trembling in her voice.

“Please, sir, that’s not what he meant! We really don’t have anything, I promise!” Kitty cried. “Let us go, just let us go.”

The man pulled out his gun and pointed it at Johnny. Although Johnny couldn’t see—couldn’t remember—the man’s face, he would never forget the pure terror that races through his veins as the barrel pointed at his forehead. He would never forget his shaking limbs finally collapsing onto the dirt. He would never forget praying for one more day with Kitty so they could finally take that road trip they’d always talked about.

“You were there at Tony’s, and on your way out, you nicked from his cocaine supply. You either pay up the money you stole, or I’ll shoot you and your pretty lady myself.”

Johnny’s vision swam. “I—I don’t…”

The fuzzy form of the man stepped closer, casting his shadow over Johnny. “What’s that, princess?”

“I…don’t have it.”

“You should tell them, though,” Johnny said, breaking the silence between them.

Phantom gave him a quizzical look, and Johnny felt like a bug under a microscope. Damn, that kid could be a real pain in the ass sometimes.

Still, something compelled him to keep talking. So he turned his attention back to the sky and said in a detached voice, “You should tell them while you can. Because if you don’t do it now, you never will. You’ll keep putting it off, and putting it off until one day you’ll look around you and realize that there’s nobody left to tell. And you’ll spend the rest of your afterlife wondering if you should have told someone during any of those days you asked yourself and decided it wasn’t the right moment, it wasn’t the right day, that you would do it tomorrow. Because you only have tomorrow until you don’t. And you never know when that day will come, but it will, and it will come faster than you think.”

Phantom didn’t respond, but Johnny didn’t need him to. After all, they were both in the same place, and they weren’t. Johnny had no more tomorrows left, but Phantom still did.

He still had the chance to do what Johnny never could.

Johnny 13 thought about the corpse in the woods sometimes. Hard to forget where you are buried.

He heard Kitty let out a fresh sob in front of him.

“Well, that’s tough luck, kid.”

There was a crack.

Kitty screamed.

And then nothing.

#ectoberweek2022 #kidnapping cw #origin story #day 25 #forgotten bones #phicc #my writing

[musette22]

You know what I've been thinking about recently? That if Stucky was actually just a friendship and everyone agreed on that (excluding us) Tony would definitely have a line telling Steve something while referring to Bucky as "your boyfriend". There's no way Tony wouldn't do that. But I don't know man, I know if anything, it would actually be the opposite. but also, can you see my point?

Like yes, if anything, it should be the opposite. but I'm saying that because they knew and they didn't touch that subject whether we're talking about Marvel Studios or people in their universe. So to me that seems like more tension buildup, you know? They barely ever gave us "direct" reference to that matter (I correct, they never gave us), and with a lot of other ships, real people or fictional characters, the actors or the writers just go with it jokingly. Sometimes they even talk about it too much and after that, for me the 'craving for more' stops and I realize or assume that this is definitely just a joke. If it were not, they would never do it. And for Stucky, it's the exact opposite, poor guys can't even talk about it not getting edgy. And I crave that. Because I guess I'm a masochist 😂

So, I rest my case. ✍🏻

Oohh, I'm not 100% sure if I entirely understand what you're saying, but I think it's that the fact that in the MCU no jokes were ever made about Steve and Bucky being lovers only reinforces the notion that the bond between them is in fact more than just platonic, and that the creators were well aware of that, yes? And that if any of the movies had jokingly alluded to a romance between Steve and Bucky, it would have actually kind of undermined the ship more effectively than the whole 'straightwashing', no homo thing that Marvel decided to go with instead?

I have to admit, although I believe you, I don't actually recall whether or not a joke like that was ever made in any of the movies. I feel like it must have been, but that might well be because I've only watched the movies a couple of times and I've read so much amazing fic in which that is a given that is has completely replaced canon in my mind 😂

But if you're right, then yes, I fully agree. It's SO obviously present in the Cap movies, this deep love and bond they share, that it would be kind of crazy if no one ever made the 'boyfriend' joke or something to that effect. And if so, the fact that no one did almost has to mean that that was a deliberate choice (because they're cowards and they were afraid of giving people the 'wrong' idea and invite them to ship them (more), even though in reality it might have actually done the opposite, mostly because people were already intensely and very seriously shipping them, lol). Of course, the topic has come up during promo, and the Russos have joked about it too, but the movies themselves were very rigorously no homo'd, that much is true. The closest we got to someone alluding to how it really was was Rumlow's "Your pal, your buddy, your Bucky" line, I think, but that was far from a joke, of course.

Anyway, this is an interesting thought for sure, thanks for sharing, nonnie! 💓

#if i've forgotten anything important then please feel free to correct me! #i really am not very up to speed with canon #i much prefer what we've got going on on here and ao3! #stucky #mcu critical #minnie answers