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selenityshiroi · 1 year

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HDM TV Adaptation overall opinions

So, now that all three seasons are out I want to get some more thoughts out there. I haven't rewatched the whole series again, but I still have impressions from what I've seen over the release schedule.

First, casting:

The main casting things that threw me off were Ma Costa (the actress was perfectly skilled but I'd just always imagined her as a big, powerfully built woman and it was the one character image I'd never been able to push out of mind) and John Parry. I have nothing against Andrew Scott but the main plot point of John Parry prematurely aging, because he lived in the wrong world for so long, was COMPLETELY LOST by having him played by an age appropriate actor. It also removed any sort of surprise, because he looked just like his photos from the real world and, therefore, we all knew who Jopari was the moment he appeared.

I was surprised when we got dark haired Lyra and Marisa, since they had been described as blonde in the books. But my main ??? reaction was to do with the scene where Lyra's hair is ripped from the bomb and the tension of the moment when no one knew if the single hair that remained was Lyra's or the Golden Monkey's.

The bomb scene ended up completely different (and, in my opinion, not for the better in the slightest) so that moment never became relevant. But both Lyra and Marisa were beautifully acted and portrayed. And I've never been one to believe that appearances need to be 100% consistent with text, so other than the 'how will xxx work' I was never bothered by the change.

I was always impressed with Dafne but I do believe that she really grew into the role as time went on. Her performances became stronger with each season and I am so unbelievably astounded by how powerfully emotional the end of the series was.

Ruth was darkly charismic the entire time. It worked beautifully for Marisa, although I do think that the show used her too much, in some cases, trying to show off such an intriguing character. And in doing so kind of spoiled some of the mystery and unravelled her too much too soon.

But my favourite casting was that of Amir Wilson. The moment he stepped onto screen, suprisingly but brilliantly early, I was convinced completely by his performance. We'd waited so long to see Will Parry on screen, especially after the movies failed to launch into a franchise, and he was worth the wait. He captured every nuiance: the boy too young to be a carer, like so many children, but doing it anyway because it was necessary. A boy who never wanted to fight (or kill) but could do so because it was necessary. A boy who you would think would be jaded by caring and love...but could never not do so because it was oh so necessary.

But I don't think I can fault any of the performances on the show. All of the cast were brilliant. Even if I wasn't sure they were used in the best ways at all times. So a huge applause for the casting team.

Secondly, writing:

Let me start by saying that this series was a good adaptation. It wasn't perfect and it has it's flaws, but it was good. I can tell that the source material was loved and treated with care but I feel that there were limitations placed that negatively affected the way the story was told.

Each season, in my opinion, could have done with 2 more episodes, at least. Whilst it was ABSOLUTELY the right decision to introduce Will in season one and intertwine his and Lyra's stories (instead of cold opening season two with him like The Subtle Knife did) I do feel that season one significantly missed out on developing Lyra. And, unfortunately, they never really corrected the clipped away moments and ended up removing the main, defining arc for Lyra Silvertongue.

Her ability to craft stories and lie.

That being said, one of the show's greatest strengths is how wonderfully they developed the build of friendship into love between Lyra and Will.

From the very beginning this was all trimmed out. We never got to see her telling lies with the Oxford Children and the Gyptians. We never got to see her lie her way out of London when trying to escape. We never saw her extended, planned out deceptions and investigations in Bolvanger. Lyra's ability to lie and craft stories was a core part of her in the books. It was why she was named Silvertongue. She described it as something she could do for Will because he was too honest to protect himself when needed. And it ended up being removed entirely from the subplot in the Land of the Dead, destroying the storyline with the Harpies and 'Tell them stories...but true stories'.

I'm not sure if these moments were originally removed for time and they ended up having to cut her arc completely or if the decision was made to 'sanitise' this character trait? If it's the first it's disappointing but kind of understandable how it ended up that way. If it's the latter then it's kind of unforgiveable. Either which way, Lyra's arc and development it the single biggest criticism I have of the entire show.

Bringing Will in earlier allowed us to get a sense of his character before he and Lyra crashed into each other in Cittazgaze and it made their intitial interactions more wary and tentative than they were in the books (where there was more tension as Will was still a bit of a mystery to the audience and his character traits were being explored on all scales through his interactions with Lyra). It made things a little more natural between them on screen, in my opinion, and we saw the friendship unfolding gradually.

This continued on throughout seasons two and three and the trust and bond between them was very believable. I was always wary about how the end of The Amber Spyglass would be portrayed on screen. It's such a deeply emotional and heartwrenching ending to the books but full of love and young passion. And it would be so easy for this to be awkward or cheesy or overdone (I love the audiobooks but the ending is a little cheesy in performance, for example). But it was knocked out of the park. It felt like two teenagers in love, but it also felt full and mature and genuine and you could believe their heartbreak and that they would continue to love each other until their death. It was such a fine line to walk but it was phenomenally done.

I also didn't like what they did with Asriel. Almost all of his arc was in the background of the books. And maybe that allowed rose tinted glasses but I never really felt he was disdainful of Lyra in the books. He always felt distant and unreachable, but to me there was always a sense that, underneath his grandose plans and ambitions, he still loved Lyra. I think they took it too far in the show and that love was lost. And it made the confrontation with Metatron feel hollow. Because it never felt like he was doing it for Lyra. It felt like he was doing it for himself.

As I mentioned before, I'm not sure Marisa was always adapted with the same careful touch. Ruth Wilson's portrayal was so powerful that they clearly wanted to capitilise on that and they gave her scenes that revealed more of her character and even some of her backstory from the Book of Dust trilogy. But one of the things that I thought was done so well in the books was how you never really knew her angle. You never knew who she was playing and what her motive was. Not until the very end. By showing more of her character some of that mystery was eroded and I think it made her role in the final season less powerful.

And, because of the utter lack of Lyra's character trait of lies and stories spilling out of her like water as a way to protect herself and those around her, we also miss out on the depth of the Land of the Dead. On how the Harpies hate lies and are so used to the dead trying to lie their way into 'salvation' that they provoke hated and fear through their retaliation. That Lyra herself is viciously attacked by the very same Harpy who eventually saves her from her fall. That her true stories are what eventually bring hope and light to the souls around her and draw the Harpies in like a moth to a flame. That they negotiate safe passage for those who can tell true stories of their lives. That children will be allowed freedom because they haven't had time to build stories, but adults should have lived their lives fully and should have had something to tell.

One of the limitations I feel the show had to deal with was the fantastical elements that would need extensive CGI. I'm willing to suspend disbelief over crowd scenes with suspiciously hidden daemons because it's very understandable that animating daemons for every extra would be very expensive and not totally necessary for immersion. But I feel like some of the writing decisions made for season three was to limit CGI usage. Obviously the storyline between Mary and the Mulefa was very truncated. But I do like and appreciate how they showed her learning and living with them through the evolving subtitles and her notebook. It was effective and well done.

But I feel that the Gallivespians being so heavily removed from events (no longer accompanying Will and Lyra to the Land of the Dead and causing such drastic changes to scenes such as the Bomb) was less well handled. It removed elements that added depth and worldbuilding. And I hate that the Bomb is no longer about corrupt men and Marisa's desperate love and Will frantically trying to save Lyra from a threat from worlds away but is instead a ridiculous power move from Metatron.

Which is one of the reasons why Lyra and Will agree that they have to live full and complete lives. Why they can't just wither away in less than a decade in a foreign world. Why they have to live for love.

I do see how and why some of the writing decisions came about. But the ripple effect they had on the HEART of the story was profound, tbh.

But since I have mentioned CGI and how it shaped things:

I want to give a huge round of applause to every single animator who worked on the character daemons and bears.

When the series was first commisioned I was so petrified that a BBC show would never have the budget and skills to make the daemons be so seamless. But they are so beautifully animated. So wonderfully expressive. When we first saw Pantalaimon speak I was overwhelmed because his little facial expressions and the twitching of his ears and the rustle of his fur...I was so impressed by the care and attention to detail and it's continued on throughout.

The VFX studio did phenomenal work and I can't thank them enough for breathing life into the characters I'd always feared would be puppet like characatures.

So, yeah, overall:

I enjoyed watching this show so much. I read Northern Lights and The Subtle Knife in secondary school and The Amber Spyglass came out when I was in college. They were the books that took me from my teenage years to my young adult life. And I joke often that The Amber Spyglass shattered my heart two decades ago and I've never recovered but, tbh, it's not that much of a joke. It profoundly affected me and to this day I still flinch at the idea of tragic love and separation and long for resolution.

Seeing the story portrayed, finally, on screen was a joy. I actually cried when the commision of the series was announced because the books meant so much to me and I hoped and trusted the BBC (and Julie Gardner, who I knew was a fan thanks to Doctor Who interviews) to do it to the best they could.

The final product is not perfect. There are changes I don't like and scenes that are missing. Some of the aspects have been lost or amended along the way. But there are also some changes that worked for the better or were adapted with a care that showed the love for the source. There are some criticisms that I can live with because I enjoyed other aspects and some criticisms that will always grate a little.

There are details that were introduced with the TV series that I will take back to the books (Cloud Pines under the skins of witches? inspired. Mary being a lesbian? Felt so natural I forgot it was a small change) and I happily take the visuals and beautiful performances into mind.

The books will always be precious to me. And, even with some critiques, this show will now always be precious too. They aren't interchangeable but I can take the best of both and enjoy them together. I can imagine Ruth Wilson spitting out 'Lyra's exceptional' and Dafne Keen whispering 'because he's Will' in a dream, even if the TV show never gave us such scenes. Because the words still live on the pages and the portrayals still exist in my minds eye. And that is a great gift to have.

(Also, in a lighter and less serious note...now that the series is complete and I expect more and more people to become aware of this franchise and the world building...please give us more daemon fics for every single fandom. I love daemon fics and all fanfic authors who bless us with daemon fics deserve their own Republic of Heaven here on Earth)

#hdm #spoilers #his dark materials #long post

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lovelybarnes · 3 years

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puppies- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, mentions of natasha romanoff, sam wilson, and tony stark warnings: dogs, the word puppy and all its variations are overused about: prompt: y/n meeting a bunch of puppies and doesn’t want to leave, so bucky comes by to pick them up and he falls in love with the puppies too a/n: not going to lie, i kind of really hate everything after the first few paragraphs but it’s done and edited and it’s this or an old spencer reid fic because i’m not done with any other one fjkd sorry

“barnes, we have a problem,” natasha begins, steps silent as they cross over to him. “there’s a whole building full of avengers here that can probably help you out,” bucky disregards, continuing to look in the fridge for food. “it’s about y/n,” she continued. bucky pauses at the sound of your name, poking his head from the cold of the fridge to silently tell her to go on. “is she okay? what’s wrong?”

nat sighs, nose scrunching while she decides the less-dumb way to say it. “so, your girlfriend went to this sponsor event at the animal shelter and now…” her sentence drifts off. bucky shuts the fridge door, calmer at the assurance that you’re not in danger, “now?” he asks, urging her to finish. natasha huff-laughs, “now she won’t leave.”

bucky’s eyebrows furrow, “she won’t leave? why?” nat tilts her head, “why do you think? she saw the puppies and fell in love and now she wants them all and won’t leave without them.” bucky nods, chuckling because he absolutely knew he shouldn’t have let you go alone. “yeah. that sounds like her. yeah, so why do you need me?”

“as good as i am, you know how unbelievably stubborn y/n is and you’re gonna have the best chance at convincing her to come back here without… anything else.” she reasons, and bucky groans a little at the thought of having to persuade you to come back. “i’ll try my best, but there are no promises,” he says, “she can get me to do whatever she wants if she tries hard enough.” natasha grimaces, shooing him away.

bucky can hear your coos when he enters the shelter, and the moment you squeal when you see him, he can tell he’s probably done for. “bucky! you came! i want you to meet these babies-” you have a couple puppies in your arms, all tails wagging and the ones on the floor trying to climb your legs. “so six of these actually got adopted! they’re just waiting on the paperwork.” you point to various wiggling pups, naming them as your finger points, “jenna, alexis, david, lily, winston, and splat.”

bucky makes a quick count, realizing that without the six puppies, two are left. okay. not bad. a white, spotted puppy peeks out from behind you, three. cutting it close here.

“but,” your voice is sadder, “these three didn’t get adopted at all and the shelter is at capacity and so-”

“you’re not taking them,” bucky cuts in, avoiding looking at the tiny dogs that nuzzle into your chest. “what?” you frown, face falling and bucky is close to letting you do absolutely whatever you want. “but, honey,” ah, pulling out the nicknames. you must really want this, “they don’t have

a home. and the shelter can’t keep them anymore and they’re so cute.”

you pause, contemplating your options, then pat the space next to you, “c’mere, sit.” at his hesitation, you pout, “please, bucky.” the super soldier sighs, bending down next to you and battling the butterflies at your beam. the dogs immediately begin to sniff at him, uncaring about the arm lacking skin. one of the ones formerly at your feet nudges his vibranium hand.

you smile, “that's dolly. and she already knows how to fetch; she’s so smart, although she’s a little grumpy and i think you’ll get along.” bucky looks up at you, eyebrow raised but still petting dolly, “what is that supposed to mean?”

you only bite your lip, gesturing at the pure chocolate one with a toy between his teeth, tail wagging as he pushes bucky’s thigh with his nose. “that’s hershey. he loves squeaky toys but he barely has any here. and, i remembered sam wanted a dog for a while, so he’s actually coming soon to take him home, so we’ll really only be adopting two.” bucky can feel the little of his resolve melting away like the crayons rebecca had once left on the sidewalk when dolly crawls onto his lap. the dog sleeping on you lets out a small whine that makes you audibly coo, rubbing at their ear, “this is mafalda. she’s the sweetest and a total lap dog, although because there are so many dogs here, she doesn’t get much interaction.” you scratch her head, looking up at bucky.

“come on, bucky, they need homes. and we’re getting a place for just us soon anyways, please?” you beg. bucky isn’t sure if your powers extend to animals, but he wholeheartedly believes they do when the dogs begin to whine.

bucky tries to look away and say no. he swears it now-and will swear it to tony when bucky and you come back home with two dogs. he really tries, but the way you look up at him, paired with the literal puppy eyes from two separate puppies, it’s truly impossible to say no to you. besides- and he can’t decide if this is good or bad- the way dolly nuzzles her head against the silver of his hand makes him feel as if he isn’t as deadly as people think he is.

“...fine,” he groans, and you cheer, picking matilda up and hugging her as she yawns. “thank you so much, oh i love you so much,” you press a loud kiss to the edge of his lips, catching his little frown at the half kiss and you shrug, “not in front of the puppies.”

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abellalu · 3 years

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Just a Job: Part 1

Summary: The Avengers have been trying to recruit a former SHIELD Agent who has been working freelance. The Agent finally agrees to work with them, but immediately dislikes the idea of having to work with Bucky Barnes (for now).

Warnings: cursing, annoyed Bucky

Word Count: 1.6k

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This is just something fun I start planning/writing. I’m not sure how long this series will be, but I have quite a few chapters planned (the next chapters will also be longer) I’m not usually a writer, but hopefully you still enjoy this. Any feedback is totally welcome!

[ Masterlist | AO3 ]

“Steve, you should just tell me the mission and so I can just complete it on my own.” You said as you paced back and forth across Steve’s office.

This wasn’t the first time you’ve had this conversation with Steve, and you don’t expect it to be the last time. Every few weeks, Steve and the Avengers are planning a mission, Steve asks for your help, and you say no. Though, most of these conversations happen over email.

“While I do admire your confidence, you know these types of missions are dangerous to do on your own and my job is to keep everyone here safe.” Steve looked directly at you showing that he was not willing to negotiate.

“Your job is to keep the Avengers safe, not me. I still haven’t agreed to work for all of you and I don’t plan on it.”

Steve looks directly at you as he starts to speak, “I know what you are capable of. You are incredibly resourceful and intelligent. That’s why I invited you to work with us in the first place, but you can’t always be independent. You can work with a team again, and be surrounded by people who care about you.”

You laugh to yourself. Steve always loved bringing up the idea of you working with a team again. He valued working with others so much, and yet you could never see the point. You used to work with others, then felt betrayed when you realized it was all a lie. Steve was always someone you could trust though. It's sort of part of his brand, good old Captain America. He always considered you a friend despite the fact that you avoided him most of the time. Maybe you owe him a small favor.

“How long is the mission?” You ask as you avoid eye contact,

Steve smiles to himself, usually, by now you would have told him you were not interested and to leave you alone unless he has baked goods.

“The first mission I have for you is only a week long. We will be working mostly remotely for the first few days as we plan, so you can stay here at the compound and work.”

“Slow down there Cap, I’m only agreeing to help you out with one mission and there is no need for me to stay at the compound. I can easily go back and forth between my apartment and here.”

"Of course, I promise it will be just this one mission then I won't ask you again." Steve says as his smile grows larger.

“Alright, I’ll do it.” You immediately reject your decision.

Shortly after you leave the compound, Steve leaves his office to go to the kitchen and finds Bucky and Natasha searching through the cabinets.

Natasha looks up at Steves and smiles, “You seem cheery today, did you find another old man film to watch?” Natasha and Steve both chuckle.

“No, better actually. She finally agreed to join us for a mission.” Steve responds. Natasha seems both surprised and excited, while Bucky continues to search through the cabinets.

“The former SHIELD agent? I still don’t understand why you put so much effort into trying to recruit her in the first place. She clearly isn’t interested.” Bucky gruffs

“First off Buck, she clearly is at least slightly interested now since she agreed to help us. Second, she is a very skilled agent and tech-savvy. She has found multiple Hydra agents and operations all on her own using technology she developed.” Steve says, looking at his friend while Bucky tries to ignore him.

Bucky Barnes didn’t know this agent. Back when Steve and Natasha had worked with her, he was still stuck under Hydra’s control and was a puppet for them. He didn’t understand why his friend was so adamant about her skills and getting her to join the Avengers when she clearly likes working alone. Bucky could understand that though. He was still adjusting to being an “Avenger” after decades of being an assassin on his own.

Natasha laughs to herself, “She is a good person. We used to joke around a lot together during meetings, always making them less dull. I think you’ll get along with her, Barnes.”

“I highly doubt it.” Bucky responds unamused.

A few days later, you got up much earlier than you usually did. Before, you were your own boss and created your own schedule. Now you have to get ready for an early morning Avengers meeting. It also didn't help that you would have to walk to the compound since you didn't have a car. While you could have taken Steve’s offer to stay at the compound for a week, you wanted to spend as much time away from the Avengers as possible, and getting up early to walk seemed like a necessary evil.

Eventually, you arrive at the compound early for the mission briefing. All you know about the mission so far is that you will be working mostly with Tony on tech for the mission. You are directed to a conference room that has a large table with only one person sitting there.

Bucky is sitting at the table with a book in his hands. There is a little crease between his eyebrows and a slump to his shoulders as he stares intently at the book.

As you enter the room he doesn’t look up his book. Part of you understands that he probably just wants to be left alone with his book, but the other part of you is arguing that now is the best time to introduce yourself. You didn't want your introduction to be too late and Bucky was one of the few Avengers you didn’t personally know.

You walk up to the seat next to him and grab the chair. “Can I sit here?” you ask him, trying to force a smile on your face.

“No.” He responds without looking at you.

“Who sits here usually?” you ask “If it's just Natasha or Clint, I’ll probably just sit here anyway.”

“I don’t like people sitting next to me, Agent.” He says as the tone of his voice gets slightly more annoyed. You haven’t been referred to as Agent for years, but at least now you realize that he knows who you are.

You look at chairs on either side of him “Oh, so both of these chairs are available, so do you have a good side or-”

“Just leave me the fuck alone” He interrupts you before you can finish your thought.

You stare at Bucky and he never once looks back. You expected Bucky to be more reserved than the others, but you didn't expect him to be so insolent.

"Fine" eventually, you walk away to the other side of the table and take a seat.

You grab your phone from your bag, trying to stare down at it instead of focusing on the man on the other side of the table. Bucky didn’t even try to fake a nice introduction as you did, he was just irritating. If you knew that you would be working with someone like him, you wouldn’t have agreed to the mission.

Eventually, after what feels like an eternity, but is really only a couple minutes, the rest of the team starts entering the conference room.

Natasha enters the room with Sam Wilson. She gives you a small smile and they both start walking towards you.

“It’s good to see you again Agent, we are all excited to work with you.” Natasha says. You chuckle at that. Not everyone is excited to work with you apparently. You quickly glance towards Bucky. His lips are pressed together in a straight line, ignoring everyone who walks by him.

“So, how did he finally break you?” You look away from Bucky to see Sam smiling and laughing. You had only met Sam a few times before. Steve occasionally brought him to try to convince you to join them for a mission.

Sam continues to say, “I mean, if my charming personality wasn’t enough to convince you to help us, I thought there was no hope.” You laugh at him. At least he will be enjoyable to work with.

“I’m just helping with this one mission, then you guys are leaving me alone. Don’t worry though, your charming personality definitely helped convince me.” You respond sarcastically.

Natasha and Sam laugh as they sit down in the chairs on either side of you.

Eventually Steve and Tony Stark enter the room together. Steve walks towards Bucky and for the first time Bucky looks up from his book. Steve holds out his hand and Bucky gives him the book. You notice the title of the book, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. Steve puts the book down on a table in the corner of the room and begins his presentation.

“Thank you everyone for being here." Steve looks directly at you as he speaks. "We have reason to believe there is a Hydra operation here in New York. It seems small, but they are developing technologies for other operations. The mission will take around a week and will include-"

"Basically we just need to develop a tech system to disarm all of their tech and hack into their security system for all intel we can find." Tony interrupts.

"Thank you, Tony." Steve responds while rolling his eyes.

"Oh, you are so very welcome Capsicle. I'm always here to help." Tony laughs. "Anyways, the tech team will include myself, Banner, and the world's most stubborn agent."

Everyone looks at you, including Bucky. Steve starts telling everyone about all of your achievements and skills. Bucky just stares at you and you glare right back.

You realize that you never want to be back here again.

NEXT PART

Thanks for reading! :)

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sebstanseabass · 3 years

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Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 13

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

A/N: Future you, r u okkkk

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

You stared at Bucky and the gentleman who was with him named Sam Wilson, completely dumbfounded; as if they both had three heads. They were seated across from you, Bucky with a glass of water, and Sam with a bottle of beer in his hand. Sam was just finishing his beer, as well as his speech about his business proposal which had to do with you taking photos of his new products, and models.

Bucky introduced Sam as a long-time friend and an owner of a sporting fit apparel named The Falcons. The name did ring a bell as soon as you heard it. You suddenly remembered passing through it while you and Bucky were strolling down Fifth Street, vaguely telling you about a friend who owned it and six other stores scattered in California, Chicago, London, and Australia (and was planning to branch out more in Asian countries); and here he was right in front of you, hiring you as a photographer for his big-time business.

Sam didn't give you a sliver of time to intervene with his flawless little speech he had committed to memory, as he spoke so fast. Some words were even incomprehensible to you — or perhaps it was just because the world was still whirling around you, given the prior event that just took place.

And now this.

You tried to give Bucky some kind of signal by giving him a look but he encouraged Sam further and urged you to listen to his proposal.

"So, y/n..." Sam rested his hands on the wooden table, his attention solely focused on you. "What do you think?"

If only you could tell him the truth that your mind was completely blank, you would. But you didn't want to embarrass yourself or Bucky for that matter, so you just gave him a smile and did the first thing you could think of. "Mr. Wilson — "

"Oh, you can just call me Sam. There's no need for formalities."

You nodded. "Sam... Do you mind if I have a little discussion with Bucky? It will just take a moment."

Sam leaned back on the cushioned couch of the booth and nodded. "Of course. Take all the time you need."

You didn't give Bucky the time to question why so you immediately stood up, grabbed Bucky's hand from across the booth and dragged his body towards one of the closets the bar rarely used. You closed the door behind you, and switched the light on. Even with the small lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, the inside of the closet still looked dingy, and the dust crawling on the walls and flying in the tight air space were clearly evident.

"Bucky, what the hell is going on?"

"Isn't it great?"

You smacked his arm. "Steve just told me he's getting me fired so that I can focus on my career as a photographer."

"That's even greater!"

You smacked his arm harder this time. "I'm not done." You hissed. "He's giving me one week to figure things out and then I'm fired. If I don't have shit figured out in that one week, I'm not gonna be able to pay for bills. Did you say something to Steve when you came here this morning? Don't lie to me, James."

He was rubbing his arm, brows furrowed. "I told him nothing."

"You showed him the photos I took last night. What was that all about?"

He sighed in defeat. "I just made him realize that you needed to be out there and not stuck here. You said it yourself, y/n, you're stuck in a rut and the only way to get yourself moving is to break from that routine. To go out there and explore the world."

"And then you just swoop in and bring your friend?"

"Yes."

"So, Steve just happens to realize that I needed to go out there and explore the world, and then it just so happens that your friend needs someone to photograph for his business?" You scoffed. "Bucky, do you expect me to believe that this is just one big coincidence? That you're not the one pulling all the strings in this little weird puppet show?"

"Yes, okay, I may have done something about those, said something, but — "

"Oh my god, you can't do that." You had the urge to get some air, and to pace back and forth as you tried to put your thoughts into words, but the space felt tighter the more you spoke. "You can't just walk into people's lives and, and... control everything! This is not just about chasing a dream, this is also about survival. I'm not rich like you. I don't have a safety net when things fall apart. You... You can't put all your trust in me."

"Well, someone needs to." Bucky sternly answered. "And if that someone should be me then so be it."

"I don't even know why you're going to great lengths for me." You looked down on the floor. "I... I don't get it, Bucky. I don't get you at all."

"Hey, hey, hey, listen to me, doll." His hands made contact with your skin, lifting your face to look at his blue eyes. "I apologize for taking things too far, I guess I could act so rash as well but I just wanted to do what I know is right and what would make you happy. Seeing you last night was... heartbreaking."

"So, you pity me." You sighed. "Everybody does."

"Call it what you want, y/n. But people who pity you won't ever believe in you and in what you do. But here I am putting all my trust in you. Your boss Steve does too. And Sam." A smile formed on his lips, making the insides of you flip.

"Your friend Sam sounds like a big deal and he hasn't even seen my photos. How can he trust me to do all this for him?"

"I put my word in for you. I told him if I was wrong, then to hell with me. And if you're worried about people assisting you during the shoot, don't. Sam has people all over and he just needs your beautiful eyes and hands and brain." He laughed. "Sam's a good guy and you're not going to be working for some big corporation. I know you hate those. This is perfect for you, trust me. And right now, all I need you to do is say yes to Sam, say yes to me, and most especially say yes to yourself. Please?"

The atmosphere became lighter, and the room didn't feel that tight any longer. His flattering words forever engraved in your mind. His warm hands stayed on both sides of your face, his face pleading.

You sighed and nodded your head slowly, finally convinced. "Okay, yes."

A grin started to crawl to his face and for a moment, his face drew closer to yours. "Okay, good. Now let's get out of here and tell Sam the good news."

You nodded but a touch of disappointment came, as Bucky's hands left your face. You never knew the presence of Bucky's skin against yours was one thing you could miss. You didn't even know if you should.

As soon as you sat down, you told Sam the good news and quickly ordered a bottle of champagne. You were supposed to get it for them but Bucky told you to sit down and let loose for a while, so you did.

Nat approached the booth with the cold champagne, and some glasses. She bent down and whispered to you, "You better tell me what's going on here. I wanna hear everything."

Sure, she did. Nat always wanted to. When it comes to water cooler gossip or any kind of gossip for that matter, Nat always wanted to dig her nose into other people's stuff. With a wink and a slight sway on the hips, she retreated to the counter and took more of people's orders. Beside her, you noticed Nick steal a glance in your direction but was averted away by people trying to get their drinks.

"Alright, let's toast." Sam declared. Bucky was just finishing filling yours when you focused your attention back at the two gentlemen in front of you. You thanked Bucky and mirrored Sam as he raised his glass. Bucky followed, his eyes with a luster glaze on you. "To new partners, beginnings, and to y/n."

"Thank you, Sam." You laughed, clinking your glasses. "And to Bucky, for trusting me enough to do this."

"To Bucky who wouldn't leave me alone until I said yes." Sam replied, emptying his glass.

You gave Bucky a look and shook your head. Being the cheeky man he was, the ends of his lips curved slightly which triggered the beat of your heart. The sudden changes you have been feeling when it came to Bucky have been scaring you but it wasn't a "bad scary"; it was the kind that excited everything inside you. A thrilling feeling that left you wanting more.

At the taste of the sprinkling cold champagne, for a moment, you were brought back to last night's events. A montage-like of red, blue and white lights illuminating the street, Howard waiting in the limousine, Wandavision, and then Bucky. After that, it was just Bucky's presence beside you and as you looked back at him, all you could think about was his soft warm lips pressed on your forehead. The entirety of it felt like you were living a dream — there were parts you couldn't remember and parts that you could, and the latter were just the ones you kept replaying in mind (even with Bucky in front of you), trying to imbue this dream-like memory and convince yourself that it was a memory.

Nat's voice pulled you out of your thoughts (and boy, were you thankful for it). "Hey, your shift's almost ending." She reminded you, passing by the booth, then turned to face Bucky and Sam. "Anything you want from the menu, boys?"

"No, thank you." Bucky replied then turned to you. "We should also be heading up."

"Oh." Nat's change in voice was so evident that you wanted to pull her out of here as soon as possible. "You guys are heading up, huh?" She teased, her eyes now on you.

"It's not what you think." You said. "He's just looking after me. Parker's gone to some corporate retreat for a week."

"Man, you're a babysitter!" Sam butted in, punching Bucky's arm lightly. "Oh, I can't believe this."

"No, I'm not."

"You can't even take care of your damn self, how are you gonna take care of her?"

"Shut up, Sam!"

"He's actually taking good care of me." You said, looking at Bucky.

"I'm sure he is." Nat chuckled which made you step on her foot. She cleared her throat in response.

"Anyway, I gotta go say goodbye to Steve." You said, standing up. "Hey Nat, do you want me to say hi to him for you?"

With her mouth slightly open, and eyes furrowed, she replied very slowly. "No."

You smirked. "Okay then."

You headed towards Steve's office, leaving Nat stunned in her place. Steve's office was slightly open so you didn't bother knocking and just went inside. "Hey, Steve. I'm off for tonight."

"Sure." He replied. "Hey, about earlier."

"What about it?"

"I'm doing it because I truly believe in you." He smiled. "And your new friend Bucky does so too."

You smiled at him right back. "Yes, Steve. Thank you."

"Take care, y/n."

"You too, boss!"

And with that, you headed towards the booth where Bucky and Sam were.

Out on the side of the street, the three of you parted ways, Sam hailing a cab and you and Bucky heading towards the apartment building. Once the elevator doors opened, you stepped inside and was greeted by its metallic smell.

"Hey, Bucky?" You said, quickly grabbing his attention. "T-thank you for this and for basically everything you've done for me for the past few days."

"Please, you don't have to thank me for this. I'm just really glad I'll be able to help you."

"And I promise once I get my shit done, have money and everything, I'm gonna pay you back — "

"Hey, hey, hey." He cut you off. "Who said anything about paying me back? You don't have to do that, okay?"

"But I feel like this is all too much, like, there's this thing tying me to you."

"Is that a bad thing?" He asked.

"When it comes to money, yeah kinda. And you've bought me all kinds of stuff — "

"Y/n, just..." He sighed. "You don't have to do or say anything. You don't have to worry about paying me back and even if you will, I won't ever ever accept it. Can we leave it at that?"

You sighed in response, the little ding! right on time. "Yeah, okay."

By the time you got in the apartment, you practically ran towards your room because of how exhausted you were but before you could even open the door, there was one more thing you needed to do.

"Bucky?"

“Yes?”

"I-I'm sorry again about last night and no," he was about to do his face whenever he cuts you off, "please, don't cut me off, let me finish."

Bucky walked towards you, his back facing Peter's room.

"This is about what I said... when I asked you to, uh, kiss me. You were right to stop me. I was drunk, sad and vulnerable and the moment wasn't right. It wasn't right. I would have regretted it the next day and would be so ashamed to face you. I might actually avoid you for a month." You sighed. "I'm really sorry you had to see that side of me. A kiss at that moment would be really inappropriate. When we — if we ever do, um, it wouldn't be like that... just like what you said. You said that right? You said, and I quote, not like this. 'Cause I keep hearing your voice saying that in my head." Bucky nodded, affirming it. "Okay. Um, yeah so in conclusion... I am sorry."

He slowly smiled, nodding his head. "You make a lot of speeches."

"Yeah, I'm the queen when it comes to it."

"And apology accepted, of course."

You warmed up with a smile. "Okay, thank you. Good night."

“Good night, doll."

Once you turned around, you felt a strong force on your arm, spinning your body which then collided with Bucky's, together with his lips crashing on yours.

It was like an impulse you couldn't avoid: for you to close your eyes, to move your lips in his rhythm, and to savor his breath. He tasted like cold champagne, and mint, with a hint of coffee. His lips, luscious, warm and soft; you were afraid of tearing them apart with your teeth. He kissed you with all the fervor of a lover. A lover talked about in books, movies, in fairytales.

Bucky's hands found their way around your hips, pulling you closer towards his body, while you rested yours on the sides of his face, pulling every inch of him, craving more of him. Slowly, you opened your eyes and tore your faces only an inch apart, foreheads touching. Lips empty but still hungry. You stayed right where you were; You never dared move an inch and so did he. You were still like statues. The only movement was the rapid rise and fall of your breathing.

Bucky's hands slid from your waist. You felt his fingers on the nape of your neck, his thumb tracing your lower lip and giving it a small, passionate kiss.

"Just like this, doll." He whispered. "Just like this."

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hcrringtonshair · 3 years

Text

Sweet as sugar

Sam Wilson x Reader

Summary: Sarah Wilson is your best friend and she’s inviting you for dinner.

Word Count: 2048

Warnings: a few swearing words, alcohol consumption and fluff

A/n: Thank you sm for requesting this @buckybarnes101 !! I had so much fun writing this and I kinda got lost in it so it’s pretty long but I couldn’t stop myself 😁 Anyways, I really hope you like it!

Sorry for any grammatical errors, I don’t have a beta reader and I’m not a native english speaker.

Masterlist

(Gif credit goes to @emraanhashmi)

Dinner tonight at my place? The boys are asking for you like every 5 minutes and I want to see my best friend

With a big grin you looked at your phone reading the message from your best friend Sarah.

You checked the time, 4 pm.

Sure! Can’t wait to see you all again 😍 I’ll be there at 7? Oh and is Sam back home?

Your hand landed with a clap on your forehead, why did you ask this? But it was too late to delete it because Sarah already saw it.

You were best friends since college, and she knew about your secret crush on Sam all over the years.

But since he was off to be an avenger and safe the world you had given up any hopes and went into dating again. Not that successful but at least you tried.

We can’t wait either ☺️ Fine I’ll prepare dinner soon and yes Sam is here!

A tickle went through your stomach, and you couldn’t help but to smile, rereading the message before you jumped off your seat.

One of your colleagues looked up from the other side of the desk.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes. Uh.. Important stuff.”

You waved with the phone, grabbing your bag and jacket.

“I worked last Tuesday 3 hours longer. So leaving one hour earlier today will be no problem. Bye!”

After you rushed home, you realized you had no plan what to wear. Normally you showed up at Sarah’s in comfy clothes but today was different. Full of excitement you started to empty the wardrobe, looking for something special.

6:13 pm. Shit you would be there too late… As always.

You nearly stomped over a bunch of clothing that laid on the floor by heading to the door.

Only 10 minutes too late you arrived at the house, Sarah waved from the kitchen window as the door opened and two boys ran to you.

“Aunt y/n”

The two hugged you when you barely left the car, making one step back because of them rushing onto you.

“Hey boys.”

Smiling you put your arms around both of them.

“C’mon we have to show you our new video game!”

They both start running towards the house as you follow them slowly.

“They’re even louder than I remember.”

You laughed as you entered the kitchen, greeting Sarah with a hug, giving her a bottle of wine you bought in the city before.

“That’s because they have an uncle who encourages them, isn’t it like that Sam?”

For a moment you froze before turning around, following the view of Sarah to look at her brother who leans at the door frame.

Arms crossed on his chest, the tight sweater showing off every muscle on his broad arms.

His eyes wander down your body for a moment before they locked with yours again and a little smirk appeared on his lips.

The smirk that you loved so much and makes your heartbeat racing up.

“That’s absolutely right.”

He pushed himself off the frame, making his way to you.

“Long time no see sugar.”

You frown by him calling you sugar, not able to reply directly.

“World’s safe then I guess.”

When his arms wrapped around your body for a moment you held your breath.

You smelled his cologne, a mix of vanilla and cedar wood.

“Safer than ever.”

Before you could react he stepped back, noticing his hands brushing over your hips while letting go.

Automatically a bright smile showed up on your face, you looked at each other, and you didn’t notice the silence in the room before Sarah coughed giggling behind you.

“Sam would you mind to go and tell the boys they have to quit playing. Mr Liu is going to pick them up in 5 minutes.”

Not without winking at you Sam left the kitchen, you hear him laughing in the living room as you turn around.

“So what was that?”

Sarah handed you a glass of wine grinning knowingly, you both toasted.

“What?”

Making an innocent face after taking a few sips of the alcohol.

“This between you and him. I could literally feel the tension. And don’t lie to me, I know that you have a crush on him ever since I introduced you to each other.”

With every word you recognize your cheeks heat up and panic builds up in your stomach as you heard footsteps in your direction while she was speaking.

“Mr Liu is here.”

Sam’s face looked into the room, the boys rushing in to give their mother and you a short hug before leaving again followed by Sam.

When the door closed you breathed out heavy.

“There was no tension. We just haven't seen each other for a long time.”

You shrugged and saw through the window how Sam was saying goodbye to his nephews.

“Of course y/n. Next time tell me something I really could believe.”

Playfully you slapped Sarah’s shoulder and you both started laughing.

“Dinner is ready soon. C’mon let’s sit down outside.”

“Wow I nearly forgot how beautiful it is here.”

Astonished by the view of the last sun shining glittering on the calm water and the trees slowly waving in the warm breeze you made yourself comfortable on the bench on the veranda.

“If you would visit us more often you wouldn’t say that.”

Sam companies the two of you by sitting down next to you.

From the corner of your eyes you saw him casually resting his arm behind you.

You gave Sarah a haunting look which she answered with a giggle.

Her eyes switched from you to her brother and for a moment she stayed on him.

Since Sam sat down, your body had cramped, and you concentrated to act normal by emptying the glass of wine in one.

“Wow, slow it down, sugar. We don’t want you to be drunk before dessert.”

His giggling sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t help but to let out a nervous laughter.

“I’m honored that you care but don’t worry. I still have to drive home.”

You hadn’t noticed that Sarah left while you had spoken to Sam, so you turn around a bit, casually crossing your legs and resting hands folded on the upper thigh.

“Then I’ll give you more wine.”

His arm shoots around you to the table on your left to grab the bottle of wine, “More wine, less leaving.”

“Oh shit. Sorry guys, I forgot about Mrs Benoit’s Gutter. I promised her to fix it today.”

Sarah rushed out of the house down the staircase and you both flinched by the sudden interruption.

“But I already fixed it earlier this morning!”

Sam shouted at her when she headed to the car.

She waved with her hand, “She said it’s broken again! Dinner is ready, start eating without me, I’ll be back asap.”

Speechless you stared at your best friend, who was giving you a wink through the car window before driving away.

Seconds of silence let you inspect the fine fabric of your blouse.

“So then. Let’s go eating.”

You looked up, watching Sam going back on his feet reaching out for your hand.

For a brief moment you stare at his hand, feeling again your cheeks heating up before taking it timidly.

Your heartbeat was loud in your ears, it pounded so fast that you thought it would spring out of your rib cage every second.

The fact that Sarah already prepared the table with only two plates didn’t help.

“Damn it Sarah.”

You murmured as you sat down, Sam on the opposite laughed, his eyes shining in the dimmed light.

“I’m pretty sure that the gutter is fixed.”

“So am I. And I’m convinced that she will not be back soon.”

He opens up a beer and silently you both put some food on your plates.

“She was also bold enough to light candles. Didn’t know her romantic side until then.”

Sam laughed again at your words, nearly knocking over his beer can.

“She can be. Did you know how much she loved Dirty Dancing when we were younger? Or Titanic, god how many handkerchiefs were necessary for her tears.”

“Sounds familiar.”

Without looking at him you began to eat, grinning at the thought of a younger Sam who helps Sarah calm down after the death of Jack.

“Wait, don’t tell me that your most favorite movie of all time is Titanic.”

His eyes showed surprise and a bit of shock and you laughed again when his left hand wandered up to his chest, resting it where the heart is.

“No way! But I won’t lie when I say that I’ve cried when Rose realized that Jack is dead. It is an emotional scene and I will never not cry while watching this.”

You paused for taking the wine glass up to your lips, noticing that Sam was following your movements with his eyes.

You giggled into the glass, raising eyebrows which leads him to speak.

“I forgot how good you’re looking. No let me speak out.”

He raised one hand to stop you from speaking up.

“You’re really beautiful y/n. Sweet as sugar.”

He gave you a wink, his hand randomly brushing over yours as you both wanted to grab a spoon.

“Thank you.”

In your head you slapped yourself for that dumb answer, but it was impossible to make one right thought in your head since Sarah had left.

After dinner and three more glasses of wine you’d become more confident and put all your thoughts aside.

“So what next? I’m not ready to leave.”

“Maybe we should use the time, even though I don’t think that my sister will be here soon.”

He made a gesture to show you to follow him.

“We could watch a movie.”

He looked at a small shelf, left to the TV and you accompanied him, your eyes flying over the titles on the DVD boxes.

“What about that?”

You groan as he held Titanic in his hands, grinning down at you and wiggling with his eyebrows.

“No way unless you want to make me cry.”

“Maybe it’s just an excuse to hold you.”

The innocent glare he gave you before inspecting the cover of the box let your hands shake.

“You don’t need an excuse for that.”

Mumbling you choose another box holding it up so that he could read it.

“Sounds like an offer. Go make yourself comfortable, I’ll handle this.”

He took the box, and you made your way to the couch in front of the TV.

It wasn’t possible to concentrate yourself on Bad Boys II.

Soon as he sat down beside you, he had wrapped one arm around your shoulders and pushed you against his chest.

Immediately you had lied down your head on it which caused him to giggle lightly.

The alcohol had made your head go dizzy, and soon you felt how your eyelids become heavy.

“You’re sure you want to drive home? You can stay here, or I can bring you.”

His voice was close to your ear, and you flinched, you must have been asleep for a short moment.

“Oh no you don’t have to. I’m fine and besides, how will you come home then?”

“Then we’ll take my car, and I’ll pick you up tomorrow. But you can just stay here. We have a free room.”

With a big yawn you sit up, stretching out your arms before falling back against him.

“You know what. I’ll stay here. But you can pick me up from work tomorrow anyways.”

The blood shoots into your face as you heard yourself speaking, embarrassed you looked up to see him smile.

You stayed like this for a couple of seconds, his hands wandering up and down your back.

“You know what I can also do?”

“You could kiss me.”

You had spoken out loud your thoughts before you had really thought about it.

And he did, pressing down his lips onto yours and caused you to hold your breath for a moment.

The kiss was slow, his smooth lips moved perfectly against yours, and you couldn’t help but to grab his shoulders and push yourself closer to him.

“Sarah should leave us alone more often then.”

#Request #fic request #Sam Wilson #Sam Wilson x reader #Sam Wilson x you #Sam Wilson x y/n #falcon #tfatws #Sarah Wilson #Sam Wilson fluff #marvel #mcu #marvel writer

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heliads · 3 years

Text

Thinker, Traitor, Soldier, Spy

You are a soldier hired on as a bodyguard for John Walker, the latest Captain America. However, Sam Wilson may help you realize that there’s more to life than just following orders.

masterlist

What does a soldier do? They fight. They follow orders. What does a spy do? They listen. They report.

What do you do now? You are a soldier and a spy. You listen and do as you’re told. You sit with perfect stature at the desk. There are four guns on your person, three knives, and a smoke grenade, just in case. Two men sit opposite you, one clad in garish red and blue and the other in an army uniform. This is your new assignment, they say. You start today.

You did not die after Thanos snapped, although you were fighting to stop it. You were forced to live instead in the five long years, watching countless friends die. There is no stop to the bloodshed, there never is. When the fighting at last cleared and everyone was brought back, you knew there would be trouble. They’ve tried to call forth a hero, someone everyone can depend upon. A new Captain America, the one sitting before you.

John Walker troubles you. You have seen many men in your line of work, men whose tongues only serve to twist and lie or whose hands reach to their guns before they extend in peace. There is a glint in Walker’s eyes that doesn’t seem quite right, a yearning for power that doesn’t seem to fit in with his new role as Captain America. If you knew any better, you’d say that giving him this position is the last thing you should do to a man who craves power in the way that Walker does.

But you were not here to place judgement or call him out. You are a soldier, and that’s why they want you on their side. Your employers, that half-formed shell between the fallen S.H.I.E.L.D. and the rising S.W.O.R.D., have sent you to defend him and his partner, Battlestar. It’s just another role, a bodyguard to the latest celebrity of the military world. Nothing more.

Yet, when you rise from your seat and shake their hands, you can’t seem to lose the feeling that something is going to end up very, very badly. You’ve seen men like Walker before, men who like to think of themselves as above all others. You have no doubt that he’s already hating you for being here at all, despising everyone for thinking that he needs protection. If this job of bodyguard fell to anyone else, you’d tell them to watch their backs. Luckily for you, you never stop doing that yourself.

They place a gun in your hands before too long. They know you have enough weapons to fend off an entire army, but they do it anyway. It’s less a check than a charity, like saying here, we have your back. Trust us, fight for us. You’ve seen it done many times before. You board the same vehicles and planes as them, ready for your first fight against the Flag Smashers. You approach the trucks rattling down the roads, Walker and Hoskins by your side. You can see two figures already fighting the masked figures and recognize them from a legion of surveillance tapes, news reports, and case files: Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes. If they’re here, fighting the same enemy, you can at least try to delude yourself into thinking that you might be on the same side.

You join the fight as soon as directed, firing weapons with expert precision. This isn’t the first time you’ve fought super soldiers and it certainly won’t be the last. You notice a group of super soldiers targeting Sam Wilson and drop towards them, knocking them back again and again. You’re about to head after them, pursuing them when they run down the length of the trucks, but then a hand closes around your arm. You rear around, hands already rising to pistols and knives, but relax slightly when you notice the confused face connected to it.

Sam Wilson stares at you, releasing his light touch on your arm when he notices your reaction. “Sorry about that. Who are you?” It occurs to you then that they have no idea who you are. You’re a gun, nothing more. A hired weapon used to keep out of public scrutiny. Sam Wilson is a good man, so of course he would not know you. You just shake your head slightly. “I’m with Walker.” It will tell him all he needs to know.

Sam’s brow furrows, and you take this momentary lapse in focus to dive off the side of the truck, reaching for a side mirror with perfect timing to swing between the trucks. Sam watches you go, but he doesn’t follow. He pauses for a second longer, then continues the fight, as do you. Something raises the hairs on the back of your neck and you throw yourself to your knees; seconds later, Walker’s shield streaks through the air to collide with a Flag Smasher’s shoulder.

You glance back at him, but still remain silent. He cocks his head to the side, evidently expecting a bigger reaction to him almost decapitating you. You refuse to give in to any emotions. You’ve walked through many tests from many more people. What is one more to you? At a brief moment of respite from the fight, Walker and Hoskins address Sam, stating their names along with a casual salute from the latest Captain America.

Sam takes this in with a tilt of his head, then turns to face you. You remain silent, refusing to divulge any more information than necessary. Seconds later, you’re granted a reprieve from his expectations when the Flag Smashers rally again, this time with more force. You’re ready to go to your last, even when Sam and Bucky and then Lemar and Walker are knocked from the truck. You’re ready to keep going, to finish the job, but then you see Walker shake his head at you even as the truck rattles past him. If he cannot complete the job, then no one can- the fame and glory must fall to him alone. You jerk your head once in a nod, understanding, and leap from the truck yourself. If the impact scars your knees in a jolt, you’ve conditioned yourself to ignore it.

Walker and Hoskins grab a truck on the walk back. You sit next to the driver, gun obvious in your palm. They attempt to pick up Sam and Bucky, although the pair seem more than hesitant to get in. Eventually, they give up and climb in, accepting Walker’s constant questions with barely more than a restrained eyebrow raise. Sam turns towards you, unintentionally or perhaps purposefully ignoring Walker’s latest offer at a partnership. “So, what’s your story?” You remain stoic and silent. Walker answers for you. “She’s an agent. You can trust her.”

Sam directs a confused glance Walker’s way. “I didn’t ask you.” Walker rolls his eyes. “You might as well have, she doesn’t talk much. Honestly, she’s no better than your buddy with the staring problem.” Sam gives Walker an irritated look. “She’s right there. She can hear you.” You raise an eyebrow. “I can hear you too.” Walker turns to you, feigning incredulity. “Look at that! She speaks!”

You can hear the warning in his voice, so you bite your tongue and stop speaking, even when Sam tries to talk to you again. You can still feel Sam’s gaze on you, although you say no more, even when Sam and Bucky give up on Walker’s constant attempts at friendship and jump off the car entirely. You can’t say you entirely blame them- if you could jump after them, you would be long gone.

You continue to work by Walker’s side, just as your orders demand. As the days pass by, however, you feel a permanent crease beginning to form itself along your brow. There is something wrong with Walker, a kind of insanity you’ve only seen a few times. It won’t be long now until he snaps, you just don’t know when it’s going to happen. Then again, it’s not your place to place judgement, not yet. You can watch, wait, and follow orders. Nothing more.

You’re sent to patrol an area where the Flag Smashers are rumored to hide, walking alone through twisting cobblestoned streets in search of the familiar logo of a red handprint. Although you search for a while, you sense that the person following you is not a Flag Smasher. No, it’s someone altogether different. You allow them to pursue you down a couple of streets then turn around unexpectedly, startling your follower. You come to face Sam Wilson, and the man chuckles softly when he sees that his attempt at following you undetected hasn’t exactly worked out.

“And here I thought I was sneaking up on you. Your reflexes are great.” Your face remains decidedly neutral. “I appreciate the compliment.” Sam allows himself a smile, then his face returns to the urgency that has pierced him for a while. “I need your help. You know as well as I do that Walker is getting in over his head. He’s going after the Flag Smashers in completely the wrong way. People are going to end up hurt. I think I can get to Karli Morgenthau, but I need your help in convincing Walker to stand down.”

You shake your head once. “I have my orders. I can’t break them.” Sam sighs once. “I don’t know much about you, Agent L/N, but I know enough. I know that you don’t want to see innocents hurt if you could help it.” You fold your arms across your chest. “You looked me up? If you did your research, Sam, then you’d know that I’ve never once disobeyed direct orders. I have been told to fight by Walker’s side, it’s what I’ll do.”

Sam stares at you. “You agree with him? You think this is the right thing to do?” You feel a bitter laugh crossing your lips. It makes Sam look at you in a different way, like he’s truly seeing you for the first time. Not just a hired gun or soldier, but a person in need of saving. For some reason, it makes you feel uneasy. “Sam, I have never had a choice in this. Do you think I’m going to sleep at night with a clear heart because of what I’ve done? I have never had a choice. Not once. It won’t start now.”

Sam’s gaze falls, not in disappointment but a mutual understanding. He is a soldier too, you remember, he knows what this feels like. “Not all orders are pleasant.” He agrees, then meets your gaze again. “If you have the option, though, I would be grateful if you reconsidered. It doesn’t have to be much. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t heading down his path.” You fight the urge to laugh again. “I don’t think I could if I tried.” A faint smile appears on Sam’s lips. “I didn’t think so either.”

You have gone through many difficult interrogations and communication sessions, places where you’ve lied and been lied to for the sake of a mission. This conversation with Sam, though, throws a stumbling block under your feet. You’ve always been able to move on from your job, to pack away the memories of screams and blood stuck under your fingernails until you don’t think of them at all. For some reason, you can’t get Sam’s words out of your head. What does he want of you? He doesn’t seem to have an ulterior motive, some want to have your knives and fists on his side. No, if you didn’t know better you’d say that he’s truly looking out for you. It’s a foreign concept, but for some reason it feels right coming from him.

Walker ends up teaming up with Sam and Bucky again. They’ve tracked down Karli Morgenthau to a church, the funeral service of a Donya Madani. Sam has gone inside to speak to Karli, hoping to persuade her to lay down her weapons and search for her peace and equity in a different way. If his words are anywhere near as effective as his talk with you, you have no doubt that she’ll listen to him.

Walker, however, is growing antsy with every second away from a battle. Eventually, he gives in to his gnawing need to fight and charges into the fray. Shots ring out, punches are thrown. When you look up, your stomach clenches with horror. Lemar Hoskins lies dead on the ground, neck broken, blood welling up. Walker goes silent, a maddening rage rattling through him. He sprints out of the room, after a perceived killer of his friend. You exchange a silent look with Sam, then the two of you run out after him.

You end up splitting up, Sam flying out and you going a different back route to avoid the cameras already recording. When you see the horrors of the scene before you, you feel acid creeping up the back of your throat. Walker raises the infamous shield, smashing it into the head and throat of a pleading Flag Smasher until the blood and gore stains everything within the surrounding distance. A primal scream echoes from the man’s throat, fitting for this act of barbarity.

You’re not sure how long you stay there, only that you can’t seem to move your feet until the square is cleared of horrified viewers. Only then do you force yourself to start walking. You don’t stop until you’ve found Sam, until you’re standing before him and he’s reaching out an arm to steady you. You’ve seen bloodshed before, enough death to drown out the world. For some reason, this seems different. Maybe it’s because you were fighting on Walker’s side before, and you’re still expected to do so now. Maybe it’s because you’re still locked away behind the rules, the orders.

Sam is speaking now, asking you if you’re alright. You look up at him, incredulous. “You saw what he did. Walker has to be stopped.” Sam looks hesitant. “I would appreciate your support, but I know what this means to you. Are you sure about this?” You nod harshly. “He’ll be waiting in a warehouse near here. I saw him go. If you arrive alone, maybe with Bucky, and try to speak to him first, you’ll have the best chance at getting the shield. It’s the only way.”

You expect Sam to go now, but instead he stays, making sure you’re alright. “And what happens after that? Where do you go?” You shrug. “I don’t know. They might reassign me. They’ll definitely order a hearing for Walker, I might be included in that too. I’ll see what happens from there.” Sam’s jaw clenches in worry. “If you need help, I’ll be there. I’ll speak for you.” You glance up at him. “Why? I fought against you, with Walker. I’m not one of your allies.”

Sam chuckles softly. “Not all things are alliances and sides. I trust you, you came to me. That’s all this has to be.” You nod at him slowly. “Thank you, Sam. Honestly.” You set off with him towards the warehouse, where Walker waits alone. Gore still stains the shield. Sam begins his negotiations, but everything falls apart when he mentions the shield. Walker looks at you, raw rage coloring his gaze. “You told him how to find me. You’re a traitor to your cause.”

Sam steps forward before the words can take hold. “She is a soldier making the right choice. Don’t involve her in this.” You glance back at him. Who would defend a toy soldier? Only the man who never saw you as one in the first place. When the fighting begins, it feels strangely liberating, like you finally have a cause instead of just a direction. This is truly a fight that matters, not just another job.

When it’s all over and Sam stands with the shield, you begin to walk out into the sunlight, leaving the dark cool of the warehouse behind. Someone joins you after a short while, someone with a new shield who nods at you with a smile when you wait for him. Your feet crunch on the gravel outside. “So, it’s over now.” Sam shrugs. “There are still the Flag Smashers. Some battles never truly end.”

You glance over at him, for once not stopping the smile hesitating on your lips. “I’ll be there.” Sam smiles back at you. “I’ll be glad of it. You’re a good person, Y/N, even if you don’t believe it.” You laugh at that. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Sam doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he’s still looking at you with that same thoughtful expression, like he’s just seen a masterpiece come to life and it happens to be you. “I think I like your laugh.” It’s then you know that you would follow him anywhere.

marvel tag list: @mycosmicparadise

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lunaserenade · 3 years

Text

Cloak and Dagger

Masterlist

Author’s Note: The fic that no one asked for and took me a month to write 😂 Thank you to @reddead-trash, @toomanystoriessolittletime, @icanbeyourjedi, and @sugarontherims for enduring my ramblings and reading through my MANY drafts. Also I threw straight up shade to my Florida senator Rick Scott in this. *chef’s kiss*

Paring: James ‘Bucky’ Barnes x F!Reader

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: None

Summary: To stop a corrupt politician you and Bucky must go undercover at a campaign fundraiser.

***

It was a warm and humid summer afternoon in Delacroix, Louisiana as Sam Wilson and James 'Bucky' Barnes worked idly on giving the ‘Paul and Darlene’ a fresh paint job. Bucky had come down to visit for the weekend, helping out wherever he could while he and Sam worked on finding new leads about a disturbing rumor they had been hearing. There were whispers of a scientist who was attempting to recreate the super soldier serum, although there had been attempts over the decades it was looking like this one was credible. The shrill ring of Sam's phone cut into the tranquil silence by the water, Bucky watched Sam Wilson with mild interest as he spoke quickly on the phone.

“Well I haven’t heard from you in a while. ” Sam said, an impish smile on his lips as he looked at Bucky. “That’s great news. I think I have the perfect person for you. We’ll be there tomorrow night.”

“... what did you just sign me up for?” Bucky said with a sigh as Sam hung up.

“We’re going to DC to help a friend out. You’re going to need a suit.” Sam replied, entirely too amused for Bucky’s liking.

***

True to his word the next evening Sam was knocking on your apartment door, greeting you with a huge hug and introducing you to his tall, dark, and very handsome friend.

“This is Bucky, he’s the one I mentioned. He’ll be fantastic back up.” Sam said, clearly getting great joy out of the situation.

“What exactly are we doing anyway?” Bucky said with a raised eyebrow.

“Sam told me to keep an ear to the ground about any rumors of someone trying to recreate the super soldier serum, while I was gathering intelligence on a possible corrupt senator from Florida I found out he’s funding it. Tomorrow night is a fundraiser for his reelection campaign, I need to sneak into his office and get the name of the scientist he’s funding so we can squash his reelection and this new attempt at the serum.” You explained as you took a seat in your living room with them.

“Too many people can recognize me on The Hill, I’ll be spotted easily. That’s why she needs you, someone who can go a little more unnoticed when needed.” Sam affirmed.

“And you’re positive this senator is the one masterminding the whole thing?” Bucky queried.

“Absolutely, he bounced the money through several dummy accounts, but we managed to track it back to him. I need you to meet me here tomorrow night, we’ll be going into the event as Mr and Mrs. Sandoval. I had a contact intercept their invitation so we could get in.” You said matter-of-factly. As you studied Bucky you found yourself suddenly looking forward to the event tomorrow night, having a gorgeous man in a suit by your side was definitely a perk. Especially one who you knew could keep up in a fight if needed, from what Sam had told you about him. You had heard of The Winter Soldier, hell who hadn’t, but you were never one to judge someone by their past. If Sam said he was solid, he was solid.

“Sounds like you have this pretty planned out, what if something goes sideways?” Bucky asked

“I think both of us can handle thinking on our feet.” You said with an arched eyebrow. “Unless you’re having cold feet.”

“... I’ll be here at seven.” Bucky said with a small huff, slightly offended by your implication, much to your amusement. Sometimes a kick in the pride was all you need to get a man motivated.

***

You were attempting to zip up your dress when you heard the sharp raps on your apartment door, holding it closed with one hand you opened the door for Bucky with the other. It would be a blatant lie to say that the sight of him in the well-fitted suit didn’t make your mouth water and as you took in the full view of him with greedy eyes you saw he was smiling as he walked into the living room.

“Does the suit pass your inspection?” Bucky mused.

“You clean up well, sir.” You replied with a coy smile. “Can you help me with this zipper, I can’t get it for the life of me.”

“I-... of course.” Bucky stammered, slightly flustered as you turned around, your dress unzipped until right above the swell of your ass. Ever so careful he reached out and slowly dragged the zipper of your dress up, his fingers lightly grazing your back, giving you goosebumps.

“Thank you.” You said, a faint blush creeping across your cheeks, as you turned to face him.

“What’s your plan for tonight?” Bucky asked as he attempted to adjust his tie.

“We need to get into his office, my contact said there is a folder with all the information I need in his desk.” You smirked and arching an eyebrow at Bucky.

“Sounds fairly straightforward. What’s the catch?” He queried.

“He is starting to suspect someone has been poking into his new ‘business venture’ so there is increased security on the office floors.” You gave him a sly grin “We need to get in and out without being seen. Although I’m not opposed to light violence if it comes to that.”

“Duly noted,” Bucky said with a laugh and he offered you his arm. “Are you ready for this?”

“Let’s take this bastard down.” You said, slipping your arm in his and headed out of the apartment.

***

The building had a beautiful conference center was absolutely gorgeous, you had to admit. High vaulted ceilings with the soft glowing light of chandeliers hung overhead as you and Bucky walked arm in arm, the click clack of your stilettos' on the tile echoing in the lobby with each step. A well dressed young man stood just in front of the entrance, taking invitations from the various guests as they entered. Bucky reached into his suit pocket and presented the gold leaf embellished invitation to him.

“Mr and Mrs Sandoval?” He asked as he checked his list.

“Indeed.” You replied and wrapped an arm around Bucky’s waist, tucking yourself into his side. You had to be convincing, or at least that was the excuse you were going to use.

“Senator Scott thanks you for attending, enjoy your evening.” The young man stated as he gestured toward the room and stood to the side.

Bucky led you around the conference room, his hand resting on your lower back, as you both surveyed the room. You gave his side a light squeeze and nodded towards an ‘Employees Only’ door.

“There is supposed to be a stairwell through there. The senator’s office is on the seventh floor.” You said softly and Bucky nodded.

“Security looks light down here, mostly around the Senator, we should be able to slip through easily enough.”

“Famous last words.” You grinned and made your way towards the door, waiting for a moment outside before quietly slipping through. The two of you made your way quickly down the hall and into the stairwell. You quickly regretted your choice in footwear as you climbed the seven flights with Bucky, but managed to keep pace with him. Just as you were about to open the door to the seventh floor corridor Bucky reached out to stop you.

“Someone’s coming.” His voice barely above a whisper, he pulled you close and stepped behind the door. “I can knock him out but it won’t give us much time in the senator’s office before someone finds him”

"You know this is a stupid idea, right?" You said as you peered around him.

"I do." Bucky affirmed

"And that it could fail spectacularly, probably ending in injury?" You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration.

"More likely his than mine, but yes." Bucky gave you a grin that could only lead to trouble.

"... alright let’s do this." You said, squaring your shoulders as you heard security approach the door. The poor security guard never stood a chance. As soon as the door shut behind him Bucky had him in a choke hold, a hand over his mouth to stop any cries for help. You were impressed, the ease and speed with which Bucky took him down was almost elegant. He lowered the now unconscious guard to the ground, just behind the door, and reached for your hand.

“Ready?” He grinned, clearly pleased with himself.

“Always.” His goofy confidence and glee rubbing off on you as you hurried down the hall hand in hand with him.

“This is his office, cover me.” You said quickly, hiking your dress up to reveal a thigh gun holster and a lock pick set tucked behind the gun against your leg. Bucky’s eyes raked over your body and he felt an expected surge of lust run through him as he turned to block you from view and keep a lookout. Within a minute you had the lock picked and held the door open for him.

“Age before beauty.” You grinned at him and gave a wink, earning an eye roll in return.

The office was large, a wall of books sitting behind the senator’s desk,

“How long do you think we have?” You muttered as you began to pick the lock of the desk.

“Three or four minutes, tops.” He replied, listening closely at the door for any sounds of movement outside the office.

“Good, I only need two.” The lock turned with a click and you quickly riffled through the drawer. “Ah ha! I’ve got it. Let’s get the hell out of here before we get caught.”

The pair of you quickly exited the office, Bucky’s hand lingering on your lower back as you walked out together. You weren’t sure if it was the cool metal of his hand on your lower back giving you goosebumps or being so close to him, but there was no time to sort through that as you heard voices coming from down the hall.

“Have you seen Brady? I didn’t see him on the rounds on the sixth floor.” A male voice said and you felt your heart race. There was no way to sneak out without being seen and you needed to think quickly. You backed up against the wall and tugged Bucky close, his chest bumping lightly against yours as he steadied himself.

“What are you doing?” He whispered as you pulled him tightly against your body.

“Trust me, this is the only way we’re getting out without fighting our way out.” You said quickly and reached for his face, crushing your lips to his. You could feel him stiffen in shock at first but as he wrapped his arms around you he eagerly responded, parting your lips with his tongue to deepen the kiss. For a moment the world around you faded away as you tugged him closer, fingers threading through his hair until you heard security shout.

“HEY! YOU TWO! This is a restricted floor!” The guard shouted, as he stomped his way down the hall towards both of you. You pulled away from Bucky reluctantly, staring up into his blue eyes.

“I’mmmm sorry, We got a bit lost, didn't we baby?” You slurred your words dramatically, slipping into the role of a drunken couple who couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

“Mmm, yes we did.” Bucky pulled you close, pressing a sloppy kiss to your hair. “Let’s go get another drink, honey.”

“I think you both have had more than enough.” The guard rolled his eyes, clearly fooled, and gestured to the elevator. “Come on, I think it’s time for the pair of you to leave.”

“Alriggggght alright, damn man. No need to get in a huff.” Bucky slurred, holding his hands up in ‘defeat’. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders he guided you to the elevator.

“Buzzkill.” You muttered at the guard as the door slid shut. The moment you were alone you rested your head on Bucky’s chest, his heart beating wildly and it wasn’t because of the guard. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

***

“Do you do this a lot?” Bucky murmured as you exited the building, a full moon hanging overhead in the evening sky.

“Break into government officials' offices for dirt or kiss gorgeous men to get out of a sticky situation?” You replied with an impish grin and shivering in the night air.

“Both.” He laughed as he tugged off his suit jacket and draped it over your shoulders.

“I do what I need to to get the job done. As for the second part? You could always give me a call and find out.” You bit your lip, feeling bold.

“Maybe I will.” Bucky grinned and slipped a vibranium arm around your waist.

Bucky called the next night.

***

tagged: @diva-1992, @yespolkadotkitty , @sarahjkl82-blog, @seasonschange-butpeopledont, @mrsparknuts , @disgruntledspacedad, @mrschiltoncat, @giselatropicana , @sugarontherims , @cynic-spirit , @supernaturalgirl, @farfromjustordinary, @buckstaposition , @evelynseventyr, @emesispo, @theamuz , @keeper0fthestars

#Bucky Barnes #james bucky barnes #tfatws #sam wilson #captain america #Bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #Sebastian Stan #reader insert #marvel #mcu #the winter soldier #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #undercover

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chickwiththepurpleguitar · 3 years

Note

congrats on 500!!!! for the celebration could i request flarrie & fake dating? thanks! 💕

Thanks for the prompt (and congrats on the new url)! Sorry this took so long, but hey I got it posted just under the wire for lesbian visibility day so I count that as a win :D

This is my first flarrie fic, my first fic with Flynn or Carrie, and somehow my first fake dating fic, despite the fact that I LOVE fake dating?? So really it was a necessary challenge all around. Also it’s more set up than actual fake dating sorry it got away from me. Maybe I’ll write a follow-up sometime.

Read on ao3 here:

“God, this is stupid.”

“It was your idea.”

“So? Nobody’s perfect, Flynnigan. Even I’m allowed to have a stupid idea every once in a while.”

It’s far from Carrie’s best comeback, but give her a break, it’s been a weird couple of weeks. After Julie played the Orpheum, Carrie started to feel like everything she thought she knew was actually a lie. She felt twisted, topsy-turvy, like the very world she lived in had been tilted on its axis. Suddenly, being a famously successful musician didn’t seem to matter so much anymore. Working herself and her group to the bone to someday escape her dad’s shadow didn’t seem to matter anymore.

Keeping up a years-long feud with Julie and Flynn that she didn’t even remember the origins of anymore definitely didn’t seem to matter anymore.

And then, well. People at school—people Carrie thought were her friends—started being total jerks to her, just because Julie and the Phantoms was quickly becoming more successful than Dirty Candi, and because Carrie’s dad had some kind of nervous breakdown in the middle of a Panic at the Disco concert (he’s fine now, she thinks, but it made all the tabloids), and because Nick broke up with her and wouldn’t even look at her now and everybody knew that they weren’t going to get back together this time.

And you know what? Yeah, maybe Carrie deserved some of that, cause she’s for sure been a jerk to all those people first. But that didn’t stop her from getting angry and snapping back at all the people making fun of her for getting dumped by Nick Danforth-Evans of all people. And it didn’t stop her from acting on instinct, desperate as always for the right kind of attention, and announcing to the entire cafeteria that actually she broke up with Nick and anyway, she’s dating someone else now.

And then news traveled fast and Carrie dug herself into a pit of generic details and gender-neutral pronouns, and now she’s standing outside her house, about to attend a standard PR meeting with her dad and his lawyers (the same meeting she brought Nick to a year ago, and six months ago, and two and a half months ago—basically every time they broke up and got back together).

It’s the Wilson Family Significant Other NDA Signing Meeting. And she’s going to one with Flynn.

“Did you want to, uh… go over the plan or whatever?” Flynn asks from their spot on the exact opposite end of Carrie’s front porch. She looks as confident as ever, if a little hesitant to look Carrie in the eye.

Carrie shoots her a patented glare, tries to ignore the floaty feeling in her stomach that might be guilt for getting someone else wrapped up in her bullshit and might be something else entirely that Carrie would really prefer not to think too hard about right now. “The plan,” she snaps, “is we go in there, you act like you’re in love with me, you sign a couple documents, you let me do all of the talking, and then you get your fifty bucks. Capiche?”

“Fifty bucks and you leave Julie and her band alone,” Flynn corrects, glaring right back.

Carrie rolls her eyes. “Yes, okay? I’ll leave Julie and her precious holograms to run themselves into obscurity. They hardly need my help. Now, can we just get this over with, please?”

As soon as the words are out, she flinches. The please was too much, it was too earnest, too sincere, Flynn is gonna figure her out, they’re gonna know she didn’t just do this to escape mild high school humiliation—

But Flynn just scowls, waves a hand toward the front door as if to say, go ahead, and Carrie breathes what she hopes to be an imperceptible sigh of relief.

But then, “Wait,” Flynn says just as Carrie’s reaching for the doorknob.

“Ugh, what?”

Flynn leans against the wall next to the door, arms crossed over her chest, giving Carrie a frankly infuriating smirk. “Before we go in there… I never got to ask. Why me?”

“What?” she says again, hoping her makeup covers the blush she can feel coloring her cheeks.

“Why me?” Flynn repeats. “You wanted to make up an SO to get people off your back about Nick, sure. But you could’ve said anyone. Heck, you could’ve told your dad it was fake and avoided all this lawyer shit. Why waste fifty bucks and an hour of your time pretending to date me?”

Carrie is a born and bred Performer. Carrie is Trevor Wilson’s daughter. Carrie knows better than anyone—probably better than is good for her—how to straighten her spine, paste on a bubbly smile, and sound as convincing as physically possible as she lies, “Well, I couldn’t pick someone I actually liked, or they might fall in love with me.”

Flynn’s confident expression flickers, causing a sickening feeling of reluctant triumph to burn in Carrie’s chest.

“Plus,” she adds, tossing her hair over her shoulder, “it had to be someone at school or people would think I’d made it all up, but I was purposefully vague about the details of my new significant other, including gender identity, and, well… you’re the only person I know who uses they/them pronouns.”

Flynn blinks, startled. “You—I—didn’t realize you… knew that.”

“Of course I knew.” Carrie tries not to be offended. “God, Flynn, I’m not a total heartless bitch. We were friends once.”

“Yeah, but I came out after we stopped being friends.”

“And then you put your new pronouns in all your social media bios. What, did you think I unfollowed you or something?”

Flynn’s frowning at her, their shoulders tense, looking confused and more upset than Carrie thinks the situation warrants. “Honestly, Carrie? I kinda assumed you’d blocked me.”

Carrie sucks in a breath, forces herself to let her guard down just enough to rid her voice of any insincerity or antagonism as she says, “No, of course not. It’s not like it was your fault I was fighting with Julie. It was only right that you took her side.”

She tries not to sound too bitter about it. She’s over all that—mostly, anyway. The look Flynn’s giving her is a little too pitying for Carrie’s liking. She sniffs haughtily and turns away from their scrutinizing gaze. “As for my dad, he’s been going through something lately, and he seemed really happy to see me bouncing back so fast after Nick. So I figured I’d humor him or whatever.”

Flynn’s hand slips into hers, and when Carrie looks at her in surprise, their face is softer than Carrie’s seen it in years. “All right then, Carebear. Let’s do this thing.”

Taglist: @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @nickalicious @reggiescrookedteeth @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @cest-la-vie-de-la-lee @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @moreflowersthanweeds @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @shellydominique @fiddlepickdouglas

#prompt fills #my fics #500 followers aaah!!!#jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfiction #fanfiction #flynn nolastname #carrie wilson #flarrie

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cagestark · 4 years

Text

The Rest it Kills

About this: ballerina!peter and mobster!tony. Starker. Physical and emotional between established quentin beck/peter parker.

THIS IS UNFINISHED. Anyone is welcome to continue it.

“FRIDAY, baby? Do you have the shot?”

It’s a celebration, which does nothing to explain why the room gets quiet as soon as Tony enters it. Around the table are four of his best and brightest, the handful of underlings that were instrumental in helping Tony execute his vision of how to repay Adrian Toomes for encroaching upon his weapons market. For a job well done, he’d invited them up to the penthouse to have at his expensive collection of spirits.

He’d left them alone for only a half hour to make a few calls, but now upon his return they were shifty eyed and babbling about something inconsequential, a sure sign that they had hastily changed the subject.

“Alright,” Tony says, pouring himself a glass of scotch. “Out with it. I’m a paranoid bastard at best. At worst?—well. Ask Toomes.”

“It’s nothing bad, Tony,” Rogers says. If the fact that Rogers hadn’t told a lie his entire life didn’t put Tony at ease, then his clear eyes and voice did. Rogers was his number two, and they got on thick as thieves. He’s about as likely to lie to Tony as the sun is not to rise.

“Then I’m not angry,” Tony says, taking the empty seat. “But now I’m curious. Which is worse?”

“Angry,” Wilson says in that deadpan way that Tony just adores.

“Come on, don’t leave me in suspense,” Tony says, finishing his scotch with a single gulp. He pours himself another.

It’s Romanov who—doesn’t break, per say. Tony isn’t convinced that there’s anything that could break Natasha, though if they were on opposite sides, he might have a few places he’d be willing to start. She must weigh the pros and cons and decide that letting Tony in on their little secret is the best move. Whether it’s best for her, for them, or for someone else, Tony can’t say.

She shifts and pulls out a piece of paper folded in half and tosses it across the table. Barnes and Rogers groan.

“Nat, you rat,” Barnes says.

“Wow,” she says, eyes glittering. “That rhymed, Bucky. It was beautiful.”

“What the fuck is this?” Tony wonders out loud as he unfolds the paper. It turns out to be nothing extraordinary. It’s a program for the New York City Ballet. The ballet is something new by Ratmansky, with principal dancers MAXIMOFF/PARKER. “Ballet? Taking up a new hobby, Barnes?”

“I thought I’d look great in the tights,” is all Barnes says. A deflection if Tony’s ever heard one.

“Their boy toy is the lead,” Romanov admits (to fresh groaning from around the table).

Tony’s eyebrows raise. “Boy toy? All three of you?”

“We are in the process of wooing him, so to speak,” Wilson admits, taking a swig from the bottle in front of him. “Barnes and Rogers might be willing to tag team him, but I want him all for myself.”

Rogers’s eyes flash, cold steel in the overhead lights. “Watch the way you’re talking about Peter. He’s not a piece of meat to be shared.”

“This is a goddamn episode of the Bachelor,” Tony laughs. “Which one is Peter: Maximoff or Parker?”

“Parker,” all four chime together.

“I feel like a father whose kids are going out on their first date. Are you buying him flowers? Are you opening the car door for him? Are you being safe?” Tony jests. He leans back in his chair feeling the warm thrum of the scotch in his stomach, glancing from one besotted man to the next.

“All that and more,” Barnes says. Then, with more than a little bitterness: “It’s the way he deserves to be treated.”

Tony lifts his brows. Natasha slides him the deck of cards so that he can shuffle. He’ll lose, especially once he’s as drunk as he hopes to be, but there’s no amount of money he could lose to them that wouldn’t amount to pocket change in his book. Consider it their bonus. As he deals, he asks, “Trouble in paradise?”

“You could say that,” Wilson mutters. “He’s not exactly on the market.”

“Never took you for a homewrecker, Rogers. Barnes maybe—“

“Hardly a home to wreck,” Barnes admits. “Not a happy one, at least. Pete’s boyfriend is a perverted, abusive low life.”

Tony goes stiff. The buzzing in his gut transfers to his brain, raw as the sizzle of electricity. In his mind, he sees himself as a young boy sitting cross-legged by the vanity in his mother’s room watching her apply creams and powders to disguise Howard’s abuse. All the heinous crimes Tony commits, that one is not among them. He doesn’t prey on the weak. It’s the only promise to his mother that he’s never broken.

“So, take care of him,” Tony says lowly. “Do you or do you not have certain skills and the balls to use them? You could kill this boyfriend and have it look like a hundred different accidents. What’s the problem here? Do you need daddy’s permission or something? Well, here, I’m giving it.”

Rogers scowls darkly at his hand. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Wouldn’t I? Regale me, then! Because it sounds to me like I’m sitting around the table with a bunch of pussies.”

“Peter asked us not to,” Barnes says.

Tony blinks. “Is—is that it? Good God. Definitely a bunch of pussies. Kill the bastard anyway. If you can’t stomach it; if you don’t want your boy toy mad at you, give me a name and I’ll do it. It can be done before we’re four rounds into poker, for fuck’s sake.”

“It’s not like we don’t have the stomach for it,” Wilson says. He’s the newest of their crew, but Tony appreciates his fearlessness, the open, unabashed expression he gives Tony when calling him out on perceived bullshit. “It’s about respect, man. We respect Peter’s wishes, and he trusts us because of it.”

The form of respect Tony is most acquainted with is fear. This softness he sees in his men right now translates to nothing short of weakness. Tony has never lived in a fairytale: the world is hard, and it makes hard people.

The rest, it kills.

“It’s complicated,” Rogers says to soothe Tony’s hackles. “If you knew the kid, you’d understand I think.”

“Now you’ve gone and done it,” Barnes mutters. There’s movement underneath the table: one person kicking another, everyone jolting to get their legs out of the way. Barnes looks like he’s sucked on a lemon, or taken a shot of Nat’s imported whiskey. “Now he’s gonna go see Pete for himself and none of us will have a chance.”

As it is, Tony doesn’t have to lift a finger to meet Peter because Peter comes to him.

Tony knows the benefit of giving his men a nice long leash.

He doesn’t have to. With them living in the Tower, it’s within his rights to keep surveillance on all of them; except he knows that distrust breeds distrust. Wilson, Romanov, Rogers, and Barnes have earned his trust. For that reason alone, he removed the wiretaps and cameras in their rooms upon their arrivals.

But it’s still his home, and he watches it. Closely. Tony has just poured his third glass of scotch when FRIDAY alerts him that there’s an unauthorized presence in the Tower.

“Unescorted?” Tony asks. His blood thrums—this is the most exciting thing to happen all day.

“Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes are the ones who granted him entrance using Mr. Roger’s passcode, and they appear to be returning to Mr. Rogers apartment, judging by the floor number selected in the private elevator.”

Tony rolls his eyes, relaxing back in his chair. “A fuck, baby?”

Tony has asked them not to entertain guests at the Tower without his authorization, but Tony was young once. He knew the thrill of breaking rules, how good forbidden, casual sex could feel. He wouldn’t put it past Rogers and Barnes to have grown bored, considering they’ve been dicking each other down since they were teens. Just thinking about twenty years of monogamy has his cock shriveling. If they’re just bringing home someone to bend between them and spitroast, Tony’s not going to bother abandoning his scotch.

“Judging by the young man’s level of inebriation, I would hope not.”

Groaning, Tony sets his scotch aside. He gives it a mournful glance while he steps into a pair of jeans and straps up. “I’m coming back for you, baby,” he whispers. “Wait for me. Take no other lover. Fuck, I hate wasting my humor on an empty room.”

“I’m here, boss,” FRI offers.

Tony rolls his eyes.

When he knocks on Steve’s (Steve and Bucky’s apartment, considering how much time Bucky spends there) at fifteen minutes ‘til midnight on a Thursday, he would usually expect a bleary-eyed blonde to crack the door open, a dark apartment the backdrop behind him. Instead, the door opens and light floods out into the hallway. Steve is dressed in his pajamas, that is to say that he’s wearing only a pair of pajama pants that cling to his hipbones for dear fucking life.

“FRI said there’s someone in my building and they’re drunker than I am. Don’t you know that’s a crime?” Tony asks, leaning against the doorframe. The cock of his hip emphasizes where his gun rests, but Steve’s eyes don’t even flicker to it.

Nonplussed, Steve just steps aside to give Tony room to enter.

Slumped on the sofa, bundled underneath a large blanket is a young man. Handsome, his face is a testament to masculinity: cut jaw, straight nose, flat brows and thin lips. The only hint of estrogen is the clear, smooth skin that looks like he’s never grown facial hair in his life. Right away, Tony places his bets that he knows who this kid is.

Peter Parker is resplendent, large brown eyes that blink sluggishly, dragging all over Tony’s figure like his eyes can’t decide where to rest. Sitting up, the blanket falls away and reveals his naked chest which Tony eyes with appreciation. He has the optimal figure for a ballerino, obvious strength that is lean and not bulky.

One of the thin lips is split, bruise blooming like the most tender flower beside his mouth. The wound opens when the kid’s mouth falls open.

“Ohmygod,” he slurs, elbows shaking from lack of strength. He collapses back onto the comfortable couch. “Tony Stark is here.”

Were he not so sobered by the kid’s appearance, the bruises and blood and the red-rimmed eyes and raw mouth, he might be charmed. Bucky appears dressed no more than Steve and Tony, a glass of water in his hand. He helps Peter sit up and coaxes him to drink from the glass. Every other sip, Peter gets distracted, gaping from naked chest to naked chest. At one point, he falls asleep propped up on Bucky’s shoulder.

“He’s not drunk,” Tony says, standing back with Steve while they watch Bucky try to coax the kid into consciousness. “Drugged?”

Steve hums. A muscle in his jaw jumps from how he’s grinding it. “It’s not the first time. Beck and Peter have different tastes in the bedroom. Peter has mentioned before that sometimes after their date nights, he wakes up sore.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. And you haven’t killed this guy, yet?”

Steve looks downright tortured. He does it well; Tony’s always thought of him as a bit of a melodramatic. “Peter would never see us again if we did. We have to decide between being around to support and protect him or not being around at all.”

“If Beck was dead,” Tony says coldly. “There’d be nothing to protect him from.”

“James,” Peter groans, losing and finding purpose again during the middle of the word. “Tony Stark is here!”

“In the flesh, kid,” Tony says, stepping forward. Peter’s eyes trace down Tony’s chest, tracing the matting of scars over his sternum before dipping over his abs (nowhere near as pronounced as Barnes or Rogers’s, but Tony does alright). The kid licks his lips. He can’t help but preen a little, winking at Bucky who is rolling his eyes. “

The curiosity has been planted like a seed deep inside Tony’s mind. It sprouts, soaking up thoughts until it’s the only thing he can think about, Peter Parker, principal dancer, owner of three of his best-men’s hearts.

It leads Tony here, to the best seats money can’t even buy at the Lincoln Center in Manhattan, dressed in his best tuxedo, dark eyes focused on the curtain that glows gold. His heart pounds when it withdraws on a dark, empty stage, though he hardly knows why.

By the end, he has a better idea.

There’s no hiding a single sharp line or sensual curve in the outfits they wear onstage, the pale tights and leotards. There is nothing soft about him save for his curls, but still he leaps and lands silent on his canvas-clad feet. The dance is obviously based around Maximoff’s character with Peter there as her supporting love interest, but even when the red-head bewitches the audience with her fouettés, Tony can’t take his eyes off of Peter’s figure, bowed at the edge of the stage and watching her with the sweetest supplication. When it is time for his own variation, he leaps and bows with a boneless grace that does more than take Tony’s breath away. It makes him hard. It makes him think about those long, strong legs wrapped around his waist while he gives the boy his cock. It makes him think about peeling those tights off and wrapping them around the dainty, pale wrists. It’s a good thing no one can see his erection behind the wall of his box seat when they all stand to give their ovation.

Peter bows and flushes, hand in hand with Maximoff before standing behind her sweetly while the entire place howls for her.

Tony thinks that maybe he’s starting to understand.

No one bothers him where he leans against the wall beside Peter’s dressing room door. Whether it is his reputation or his thunderous expression, he knows not, but he’s grateful for the lack of distractions while he eavesdrops on the conversation taking place inside the dressing room between Peter and a man Peter calls Quent.

—work harder in the gym. Have you been tracking your calories on the app we downloaded together?

Yes, Quent, Peter mumbles, barely audible through the walls.

All of them?

I said yes.

Don’t get defensive, babe. I had three different audience members come to talk to me about your figure tonight. It pisses me off too! If you’re ready to leave the industry—

You know I’m not.

Quentin sighs, the long-suffering sigh of an argument that has been often visited. I know. This is your dream. Poor baby. It must be so tough, loving a job that hurts you so much. But I’m so proud of you for pushing through, Peter, you know that, right? I just wish you were a little more grateful to me for trying to keep you on the right track. You treat me like the bad guy.

Peter doesn’t respond.

Is there anything you need before I go? How’s your back feeling? Your lifts looked a little strained towards the end.

Feels okay. I’ve got everything I need back at my apartment. I’ll go home and put my feet up.

You deserve it. Just don’t forget to use that app okay? There’s a rustle, a struggle, maybe Peter trying to pull away. But Tony’s always had an overactive imagination. Hey. Don’t be like that. I love you.

You too.

Peter. Say it right.

Tony slips away from the door before Quentin can come out. From his place around the corner, Tony still has decent vantage to put eyes on this man for himself. Average height, average weight. Fit enough—for a civilian. Tony’s hands positively ache for a gun. Though he’s carrying, he’s no fool. Now isn’t the time, nor the place.

Once he’s sure the man is gone and not returning, Tony makes his way back to the door. It’s time to meet this young talent from Queens (yeah, Tony read the brochure) for himself. But when Tony goes to lift his hand to knock, the door swings open.

Peter blinks in surprise. He’s dressed in gray leggings that look soft as cashmere, a NYDC hoodie on, sneakers on his feet. Spilling from the sneakers’ tops are black fuzzy socks, meant to keep his toes warm from the cold New York weather.

He’s limping.

And gaping. It never gets old, seeing the way his reputation precedes him. He loves the way the crowds part for him on the street, loves the way waiters and waitresses stammer and struggle to serve him, the way eyes grow wide like Tony is a god in the flesh.

Tony extends a hand. “I’m Tony Stark. It’s a pleasure to meet you; you’re a very talented dancer.”

“Hi,” Peter breathes, taking Tony’s hand. Tony grips gently, feeling like he’s liable to break bones, the kid’s so fucking delicate. And cold. But Tony knows the saying: cold hands, warm heart. He wonders what that makes him. Peter works to regain himself, saying, “Trust me, I know who you are. It’s so nice to meet you. Thank you—they didn’t tell me that anyone important was going to be in the audience.”

“They who?” Tony asks. “Your managers, or my men?”

Peter swallows, face draining of blood. As much as Tony likes these games, they aren’t as enjoyable when the worm on his hook is as pretty and polite as Peter is. He puts on his most charming (softest) smile and makes sure to ask, gesturing to the messy dressing room behind him, may I come in?

Nodding, Peter opens the door wider. They both ignore how he was clearly on his way out, a backpack in his hands. He sits it down carefully by the vanity where he applied his stage makeup and seats himself on the chair, nudging his shoes off. When he stretches the arches of his feet, he winces. Tony gives him a moment to settle, stepping around the tiny room and taking in the smells and sights. On one wall is a picture of Peter and Quentin, arms around each other, beaming.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter asks, voice quiet. Tony glances over at him. “Are your—men in trouble?”

“No,” Tony admits. “If they were, I certainly wouldn’t be here watching ballet; I’d be...busy.”

Peter sags in relief. The way his shoulders hunch throw his collar bones into sharp prominence where they peek out from the neck of his sweatshirt. “Oh thank God. They’re so nice, Mr. Stark, and I promise they don’t tell me anything about their—your work. James still insists that he works for some guy named Potts in New Jersey. Who’s Tony Stank, he asked me when I brought you up.”

Tony lets his lips twitch. “James’s middle name is Buchanan. Some call him Bucky. Tell him I said: now we’re even.”

Peter grins and it’s radiant. Tony feels an unsteadiness in his gut, like missing a step on the stairs or hearing a gunshot go off when he’s not been the one to pull the trigger. There’s just the gentlest stirring of jealousy when Peter mouths the name, Bucky, testing the way it tastes and wrinkling his nose in laughter.

“I can’t wait to see the look on his face,” Peter says. “Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

Now might be the time to offer to let the kid use his given name but—Tony’s kind of into it. A few more instances of Mr. Stark rolling off that polished tongue might have Tony hardening in his tux. “Take a picture for me,” Tony suggests, sitting down on the cozy loveseat that is opposite of Peter’s vanity.

“You said—you enjoyed the show?” Peter asks, demure. The sleeves of his sweatshirt pass his wrists and most of his palms, turning his hands into adorable little sweater-paws. When he reaches up to bite at a nail, the sleeve slips down past his tiny wrist. Tony could surely wrap an entire hand around that wrist and have more to spare.

“It was incredible,” Tony admits. “I don’t usually have the attention span to sit through longer shows, but I was hooked from curtain rise to curtain fall, kid.”

Peter flushes, not so much in embarrassment as he does from the pleasure of being complimented. The flush of the drunk, though it seems Peter’s poison of choice is praise. Tony can’t help but want to spread him out on the sheets in his bedroom and say the sweetest, filthiest things to see if he can get the kid hard with just his voice. “I’m so glad. There hasn’t been as much press; new shows are always a little slow to take off. Wanda really is something special, though. She spent a season overseas and came back with so much more grace and growth—”

“Did she do well tonight?” Tony asks, unbuttoning the top button on his jacket to reveal the trim waist and vest beneath. He realizes what he’s doing just as the words are coming out of his mouth. Tony is flirting with Peter, and his flirtation is a force of nature. “I barely noticed her. Couldn’t take my eyes off of you, kid. How the hell you manage to dance that way, I can’t fathom.”

Now the flush hints at being flustered. He soaks in the way Peter’s face darkens, the way he hides behind one of his hands as the praise makes his posture go soft and waxy. His voice is remarkably even when he says, “Lots and lots of practice.”

“Your hard work pays off. I was captivated. I could tell that my men were the same.”

That topic sobers Peter, who sits up straighter. His pretty face twists, the question mark clear, the confusion too genuine for Tony to take it disrespectfully. On the contrary, Tony finds his forthrightness attractive when he asks, “Why did you come tonight, Mr. Stark?”

“I came to see what it was about you that has my men so enthralled,” Tony admits. With the kind of power he has comes the freedom to be honest, even painfully, brutally honest, because repercussions are either minimal or nonexistent.

“Did you figure it out?” Peter asks. Tony can’t help but feel like the kid is asking him for the both of them: what is it so special about me? Yes, this boy is fragile. That can’t be overlooked. But inside of him there’s still a spark of spirit ready to alight at any moment, grateful for any tinder that it’s given. He’s not Maria Stark. Not yet.

“Yes,” Tony says, standing. He rebuttons his jacket. “And I’d like very much to get to know you better, if you’re agreeable.”

“Me?” Peter’s head cocks, squinting up at Tony like he’s trying to see through him, to see what is really being said. “Why?”

Tony is used to letting his baser instincts guide him. He fucks who he wants, goes where he wants, says what he wants, and he owes no one alive an explanation for it. Many people have stopped asking Tony questions like why? Certainly none of Toomes’s men asked Tony why when he was torturing them forty-eight hours ago.

“Because I want to,” Tony says. He reaches down and picks up Peter’s backpack, putting it over his shoulder, the canvas bag downright gauche against his Givenchy tuxedo. “So what do you say, kid? You look dead on your feet, but would you like to be dead on your feet somewhere more private?”

Peter takes a long moment to think about it before tucking his toes into his shoes.

He belongs there amongst the backdrop of Tony’s penthouse. Peter glances around with all the coltish wonder of a newborn, running his fingers across the genuine leather of the sofa, leaning forward to look at the smart-glass table that Tony likes to prop his feet up on at night. Upon entering, Tony removes his tuxedo jacket and takes Peter’s hastily-removed sweatshirt. He appreciates the four inches of skin that appear when his shirt rides up, sticking to his outerwear.

He doesn’t appreciate the yellowing bruises dotting the kid’s biceps. Fingertips, he knows. His mother wore them round her neck like pearls.

“Is it okay if I take my shoes off?” Peter asks. He limped from the theater to the car, from the car to the elevator, and from the elevator to the couch where he collapsed with a sigh of relief. When Tony encourages him to, Peter nudges off his comfortable shoes and brings one foot up into his lap where he firmly presses his knuckles into the sole.

Peter asks for a drink. Tony gives him access to his wine, and the kid chooses for himself: a red, Chateau Margaux that smells of rose petals and hints at citrus and turns Peter’s cheeks pink. He doesn’t ask for a second glass, and Tony doesn’t offer it; the last thing he wants is the kid to think that Tony invited him here to take advantage of him.

“Tell me,” Tony asks, watching with rapt attention the faces Peter makes, like he’s dancing on the knife’s edge between pleasure and pain. “Tell me how you met my men. They aren’t exactly patrons of the arts.”

Peter’s face smoothes and he smiles. “It was Natalie, actually. She comes to shows every so often; I think her and one of the instructors know each other. Sometimes, she sponsors promising dancers.”

Romanov. Her and this instructor must truly know each other for her to be using a cover name around them. He files all this away in the darkest parts of his mind, should she ever become a problem someday. Tony has places reserved in his brain for all of his closest allies; already, he is making one for Peter too. Trust is earned but ever ephemeral.

“So Nat introduced you?”

“Yes. She sponsored me for a while, so we got to know each other pretty well. Once I mixed up my days and showed up at her condo when I wasn’t supposed to, and I met the others. Sometimes they would come to shows or send me gifts backstage.” Peter frowns. “I asked them to stop though because—Quent would just throw them all away.”

“Quentin Beck.”

“How’d you know?”

Tony just smiles and changes the subject. “You must know that the three of my men are half in love with you.”

Peter groans, pressing both his palms flat to his heated cheeks. “I had a feeling they were...interested. I hope they don’t feel that I’ve led them on, Mr. Stark. Nothing untoward happens at all when we’re together; sometimes I, I meet Steve and James for dinner, or other times Sam comes over to my apartment and we just talk, I promise. They’re so kind and it’s—it’s nice to have people to talk to.”

Peter stops talking abruptly, mouth open. He lets it fall closed with a click. When Tony prods him gently, he admits, “The attention is nice, too. It feels good, feeling wanted. Does that make me bad?”

Tony wonders what kind of miserable asshole would have Peter in his bed at night and not show the kid attention. It takes a special fuck-up to come home to a lover like Peter and not make him feel wanted. “Wanting attention? Not at all, kid. It’s the least of what you deserve.”

“You sound like them,” Peter says, smiling. “James and Steve and Sam. They’re always doing and saying nice things and telling me that I deserve them.”

“Good,” says Tony, one side of his mouth curling upwards. “I feel like a proud father; I’ve taught them well. Should you have those elevated?”

“Sorry?”

“Your feet. Elevation will keep down the swelling.” Tony places one of the expensive throw pillows on his lap and pats it invitingly. Peter stretches out without anymore prompting, toes flexing as his joints pop before curling in. The kid makes for an indecent picture, all long lines, absolutely nothing hidden by the leggings he wears.

“I asked them if I could meet you, you know,” Peter admits. He’s red from far more than the wine, now, judging by the way he has one hand pressed over his eyes to shield him from Tony’s gaze. As if it’s possible to. Peter peaks through his fingers. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Mr. Stark, but I’ve had a crush on you for ages.”

A crush. God. Tony doesn’t know what’s more hilarious, the sweet naivete of this boy or how it makes his cold heart flutter. Tony’s eyebrows raise. “Is that so? I’m not exactly crush material for the mentally stable.”

Peter hums. “When I was a kid, I had a lot of bullies. I started dancing when I was four years old, and not a lot of other boys understood. Sometimes, I used to daydream about you coming to protect me from them. To put them all in their place and then whisk me off to that house you gave a tour of on TV once, the one in Malibu.”

“Good taste,” Tony says. “You know, I used to do the same thing when I was young. I dreamed about someone coming to protect me and my mother, to take us both away somewhere where no one could ever hurt us.”

Sitting up on his elbows, Peter fixes Tony with a serious, solemn stare. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Is that what happened?”

“No. I became that someone. What happened to you?”

“I guess I gave up on the idea,” says Peter.

“Look. Maybe you don’t have your crush on me anymore, but I’m not the kind of man who can look away from innocent human suffering. My men told me about your boyfriend.” Peter sags back onto the couch and puts his face in his hands. He shakes his head from side to side, though no words come out. “This is my offer, kid. Let me take care of the problem. Let me be that knight in shining armor you wanted when you were younger.

#starker #cagewrites #unfinished fic #tw: abuse #ballerina!peter #mobster!tony

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buckybeardreams · 3 years

Link

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: James “Rhodey” Rhodes/Tony Stark

Characters: Tony Stark, James “Rhodey” Rhodes, Sam Wilson (Marvel), James “Bucky” Barnes

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Drinking, Protective James “Rhodey” Rhodes, James “Rhodey” Rhodes & Tony Stark at MIT, Bottom Tony Stark, Top James “Rhodey” Rhodes, Tony Stark is a Pillow Princess, Romantic Fluff, Short & Sweet, Minor Bucky Barnes/Sam Wilson, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Drunk Sex, Come Swallowing, Come Eating, Spit As Lube, kinda voyeurism, Bucky Barnes & Tony Stark Friendship, Sappy, Tony’s a brat, Rhodey loves to spoil him, Sweet Tony Stark, Adorable Tony Stark, 1980s, Established Relationship, Non-Explicit Sex, Light Dom/Sub

Summary:

Tony and Rhodey have been together since the end of freshman year at MIT and there’s no doubt in either of their minds that they’re in love with each other.

They’re perfect for each other in everyway.

Tony is wild and reckless and Rhodey is protective and doting. Tony likes to fly high and throw away all of his cares, but it’s okay because Rhodey keeps him grounded. After all, Tony may be the life of the party, but he’s definitely the light of Rhodey’s life and Rhodey wouldn’t have it any other way.

Word Count: 5886

AC/DC was blasting through the speakers, bodies jumping around, people singing along, nodding their heads or grabbing someone up close to feel them up. Tony was knocking back drinks at the bar with Rhodey, laughing over some joke that wasn't nearly funny enough to have them cracking up the way they were. Alcohol was coursing through their veins, their inhibitions all but gone as they refilled their shot glasses.

The room was dimly lit by black lights, but the walls were lit up with smattered white paint that glowed in the fluorescent lighting. Tony’s Black Sabbath shirt was lit up like a glowstick and his face was lit up with a grin. He let out a holler, climbing up on the bar top, bouncing on his toes to the beat, his hands reaching up to the ceiling as his bouncing turned into swaying.

"I love this song!" Tony screamed so Rhodey could hear him over the bass that practically shook the ground.

Rhodey's hand smacked against the bar as he cracked up again. They were fucked up and having a blast and when Tony fell off the bar and landed on his ass, Rhodey scrambling off his stool to check on him, Tony just popped back up and burst into a fit of giggles.

"I love you, Rhodeybear!"

Rhodey did his best to control the laughter that wanted to bubble back up and to switch over from party mode to must-protect-Tony-from-himself-at-all-costs mode. Rhodey tugged him close, nuzzling at his cheek.

"Love you too, Tones,” He murmured softly in his ear. “Why don't we go grab some snacks, hm?"

Tony sighed dramatically, wrapping his arms around Rhodey’s neck.

"You're no fun, Rhodey."

Rhodey just rolled his eyes.

"Come on, pretty boy. I don't need you throwing up all over me again, so let me get you something to settle your stomach."

Tony protested a bit, but otherwise let Rhodey tug him into the kitchen of - well, Tony wasn't entirely sure who's house they were at. Rhodey easily lifted him up onto the counter before rifling through the cupboards for something he could feed to his boyfriend. Tony was grinning, giggling intermittently and humming off tune even though the music was muffled by the walls.

"Thanks, honeybear," Tony cooed when Rhodey handed him a packet of saltines. "You're such a good provider."

Rhodey snorted.

"I know, I worked so hard to hunt down that prepackaged snack for you, baby," Rhodey said sarcastically.

"Mmhmm," Tony hummed in agreement, munching through a cracker. "You know pretty girls like men that can provide for them."

Rhodey raised a brow at him, nudging Tony's legs apart until he could nestle himself between them, his palms flat on the countertop.

"Yeah? And what about pretty boys?"

Tony's eyes sparkled and he tossed the saltines aside in favor of wrapping his arms around Rhodey's neck. Tony licked his lips in a way that he hoped was seductive and moaned softly in his ear.

"Us boys are totally self-sufficient, babe. We don't show emotions unless it's for artistic purposes. We love shaggy hair, bangles, and pants so tight it shows off our bulges and our tight asses, but we can provide for ourselves and all the pretty girls that hang off our arms just fine. Thank you very much."

Rhodey poked at his side and Tony giggled.

"Oh really?" Rhodey teased. "I was under the impression that it was only those neon shirt wearing, disco dancing boys that still want to provide for the pretty girls."

Tony threw his head back and laughed, happy and carefree. Rhodey loved that sound and he grinned at the beautiful boy pressed up close to him. He still couldn’t believe that Tony wanted him sometimes, but damn was he thrilled to be able to hold him close. His hands left the counter gripping at Tony's thighs and Tony's legs wrapped around him, his arms tightening around his neck and his hips lifting off the counter to rock against Rhodey.

Rhodey's lips fell to his neck, sucking on the pale skin and Tony whimpered, tilting his head to give him more room to suck and lick, his teeth nipping lightly right below Tony's ear and pulling a moan from his lips. Tony's hands clutched at his shirt and he ducked his head into Rhodey's neck, nuzzling against him sweetly and Rhodey groaned, tugging him closer, wanting to have Tony pressed up against him, wanting to feel all of Tony.

"Rhodey," Tony whimpered. "Need you."

"Shh, I've got you, baby. Why don't we head off to bed? I think the party's dying out anyways."

That was a blatant lie. People were still partying hard and probably would keep going until the day broke and people had to start worrying about the homework they would need to rush to finish, and the jobs they needed to get to so they could afford to continue being a university student. Rhodey was mostly saying it for Tony's sake, to appease his boyfriend, because Tony hated to leave the party.

Partying to Tony was a way of life, the best way to live life really, and Rhodey would do whatever he could to keep Tony safe while still letting him have all the fun he desired. Realistically, Rhodey wasn't great at telling Tony no. Especially when all Tony had to do was pout and Rhodey couldn't help but give him what he wanted.

Tony accepted the lie eagerly though, resting his head on Rhodey's shoulder when he was lifted into his arms. Rhodey kept one hand securely on Tony's thigh, even though Tony was clinging to him and definitely not going anywhere. He snatched up the pack of saltines in his other hand. Tony would probably want to eat more after they fucked.

Tony barely remembers the walk back to their dorm. He has a vague recollection of whining about the cold breeze brushing against his skin and Rhodey cooing at him like he was adorable or something. Tony was not adorable. He refused to accept that assessment. He was hot as hell and totally fuckable, but he was not cute or adorable or, God forbid, sweet. It didn't matter how many times Rhodey said otherwise, it just wasn't true. Tony refused to believe it.

Tony was pulled out of his thoughts by Rhodey laying him down on his bed. They used to be roommates, that's actually how they met in their freshman year at MIT, but now they had separate dorms. Tony's roommate Sam was probably still out partying with his own boyfriend, but Tony wouldn't be surprised if they showed up at some point. Not that Tony was concerned about them walking in on him and Rhodey. Tony was anything but prude.

He knew he looked great and he had exactly zero shame. Which is why he had been so willing to streak across the campus in broad daylight when Natasha dared him to. He hadn’t even been drunk at the time and he’d made a lot of new friends that day. There was no better ice breaker than hey, I’ve seen your ass before. Rhodey found the whole incident far less funny than Tony had, mostly because the dean threatened to expel him for it.

"What are you thinking about, pretty boy?" Rhodey murmured, brushing his fingers through Tony’s hair and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Tony blinked, focusing on Rhodey and glancing around the room like he was only just acknowledging where they were. Rhodey was hovering over him and Tony felt safe under him. Rhodey was a solid presence in his life, always there, his love never wavering, a consistent source of adoration and on top of that he knew how to get Tony all soft under him. Rhodey damn near worshipped Tony's body and Tony never had to worry about being left unsatisfied.

Tony had a lot of sex in high school, but what he had with Rhodey was so much more than just sex. The sex was amazing, sure, but Tony was convinced that it was so much better because they really loved each other. That and the fact that they both had experience and knew what not to do after all their shitty hook ups and short lived relationships in high school. There was also the aftercare that had never really existed in high school for Tony. Rhodey always cuddled Tony up close and brushed his fingers through his sweaty hair, telling him how perfect and pretty he was. Tony loved that part almost more than he loved the actual sex itself.

The foreplay leading up to sex, the during, the after, it was all perfect with Rhodey. He was the perfect combination of protective and in control while still being caring and more than willing to spoil Tony. It worked out well for both of them, because Tony was a bit of a pillow princess and Rhodey was happy to do all the work for him.

Then there was their day-to-day relationship. The easy teasing, the shameless flirting, the banter and inside jokes that no one else understood. The way Tony's eyes sparkled when Rhodey walked into the room and Rhodey smiled softly the moment he saw Tony. The way Tony didn't think about anything before he did it and it only works because Rhodey overthinks everything. Tony was a wild child, bold and spontaneous and way too reckless for anyone's good. Rhodey leveled him out by being serious when the situation called for it, giving Tony his way whenever he could, and when he couldn't he would pull him close and kiss his pouty lips in apology.

They really were two parts of a whole and if Tony believed in soulmates he would believe they were meant to be together. Rhodey definitely believed in soulmates and he was convinced that his whole life had led up to that moment when his eyes locked with Tony's from across the room and his body lit up like fireworks. He knew from that moment on that nothing before that had really mattered except as a stepping stone that would take him to that moment with Tony. Tony thought that was ridiculous. He may be spoiled, but Tony was brilliant and logical, unless it came to dares and drinking, and he insisted that there was no solid proof that souls even existed, let alone that they could find deep and meaningful connections in other souls.

Tony may not believe in soulmates, but he did know that he loved Rhodey more than he would ever love anyone else and as far as he was concerned that's all that mattered.

"I love you, honeybear."

Rhodey looked amused but fond as he kissed Tony, soft and sweet.

"That's what you're thinking about? Loving me?"

Tony nodded, whimpering.

"Thinking about you, Rhodey. Always thinking about you," Tony breathed out softly, the words barely more than a whisper, a gentle caress against Rhodey’s ear that made his body light up all warm and fuzzy like he was warming himself in front of the hearth.

Rhodey's eyes were sparkling and he looked a little in awe like Tony had just gifted him the moon and the stars.

"Fuck, you're just the sweetest little thing, baby," Rhodey groaned, trailing kisses down Tony's jaw and neck.

"Not sweet, just horny," Tony corrected.

Even to his alcohol addled brain Tony knew that his statement fell flat. All the evidence pointed to him being sweet on Rhodey and though he would never deny loving Rhodey, he was not going to admit to being sweet. Rhodey snorted, letting the knee in between Tony's legs press against the hard line in Tony's skin tight pants.

"Yeah, I can tell, baby. You're so hard for me." Rhodey's hand groped at Tony through his pants, making him grunt and his hips jerk up into his touch. "Jesus, you're wet too, baby."

Tony whined, shutting his eyes tight as his cheeks lit up in embarrassment. There was definitely a sizable wet patch growing on the front of his pants and the fabric felt uncomfortable against Tony’s skin, but he was too drunk to really care about that.

"Rhodey!" Tony squeaked.

"Shh, it's okay, baby. You know I like it when you make a mess for me."

Tony made a sound somewhere between a sob and a moan and Rhodey just chuckled, shifting so he was in between Tony’s legs and settled back on his knees so he could undo Tony's pants.

"I got you, angel. You just lay there and look pretty for me. I'll take good care of you."

Tony bit his lip, his eyes hooded as he peered down at Rhodey, not even attempting to help him as Rhodey tugged his pants down. Rhodey cursed when he realized that Tony was going commando. Really he should have known. When Tony was wearing pants that tight he didn't like to wear underwear.

Rhodey didn't wear pants that tight, because he refused to have his junk pressed up against metal. Tony said it was worth it because they made his ass look so fucking good, but he had come to Rhodey crying on more than one occasion after catching skin while zipping up his pants. Rhodey was always quick to tug him into his arms and soothe him, but the moment that Tony had recovered from the traumatic experience Rhodey was teasing him about it. It never seemed to deter Tony from wiggling his way into another pair the next night they went out though.

As much as Rhodey loved the way that Tony looked in his skinny jeans, they sure were a pain to get off of him, especially since Tony was basically deadweight under him. Tony was just about as spoiled as it got, though to be fair Rhodey played into it by never demanding that he do anything on his own. Sometimes Tony liked to be independent and if he decided he was going to do something by himself then he was stubborn about it. On the other hand, Tony was equally as committed when he decided to not do something.

Tony's hand was above his head, brushing idly over the wooden headboard, only half paying attention to Rhodey undressing him. It wasn't until his pants had been thrown on the ground and Rhodey started to kiss his way up his leg, his hand wrapped around Tony's ankle, that Tony's focus snapped back to him. He squirmed as Rhodey got closer and closer to his weeping dick and when Rhodey finally wrapped his lips around it, Tony cried out.

Rhodey let Tony's leg fall back to the bed as he sucked softly at Tony's tip, lapping up precum, before pulling away and nuzzling at his balls. Tony's toes were curling and uncurling, his hands clawing at the sheets, and small moans and whimpers were falling off his lips. Rhodey was thorough in his exploration of Tony's body, sucking his balls into his mouth and worshipping them properly before kissing and licking at Tony's smooth thighs, sucking hickeys into the unblemished skin.

Rhodey loved how easily he could mark up Tony. He also loved that by the time the next weekend rolled around the bruises would be gone and Tony's skin would be a blank canvas, just waiting for Rhodey to turn it into a work of art. Everything about Tony really was a work of art all on its own, from his round ass that was perfect for grabbing at and his tight little hole, so pink and pretty, just begging for attention.

He was short, damn near pocket-size, his body was slim and he had zero muscle mass on him, but his skin was pale enough to glow in the sunlight and Rhodey thought it was just about the prettiest thing ever when he saw his hickeys adorning his otherwise flawless skin. Tony's hands were soft, just the slightest of calluses on them from tinkering in the lab, and Rhodey loved to feel them roaming all over his much larger body. Rhodey was strong, his arms muscular, and his abs hard, but Tony still liked to use him as a pillow, so Rhodey had no complaints about it.

Tony's eyes were just about the prettiest eyes ever, dark and never ending. Rhodey could stare into them all day and never tire of staring into their depths. Tony's hair wasn't exactly long, but it wasn't short either, and Rhodey loved the way it stuck to his forehead after sex, all slick from sweat. It should have been gross, but nothing about Tony was gross. Rhodey could spend all day brushing his fingers through Tony's hair, sweaty or not. Rhodey didn't really care one way or another.

He loved the curve of Tony's nose, the dimples in his cheeks when he grinned, the way he arched his back so pretty and how his hands and feet were so tiny compared to Rhodey's own. Rhodey loved Tony's cock too, large enough to not be tiny, but still slight. Rhodey's hands were large enough that it sure looked tiny when Rhodey wrapped a hand around it.

Bottom line was that Rhodey was head over heels madly in love with Tony Stark. Had been since the moment they met and he doubted that would ever change. Tony could be stubborn to the point of being damn near infuriating. He was a mess and had zero direction in life beyond the party he had been invited to next weekend. He was in his third year of college, but still hadn’t settled on a degree yet. Which mostly exasperated Rhodey, because Tony was brilliant enough to pass any class and clearly obsessed with engineering and mechanics and everything maths or science related, but he couldn't make his mind up for the life of him. Despite all of that Rhodey absolutely adored him to the point where it was a little ridiculous just how in love with this boy he was.

Rhodey took Tony back into his mouth and reveled in the way Tony damn near screamed, his back arching off the mattress and his hands trying to find purchase on Rhodey's head. Rhodey's hair was a buzz cut so Tony couldn't exactly hold onto it, but that didn't stop him from trying. Rhodey just grunted when Tony clawed at his scalp and grabbed Tony's wrists, pinning them above his head.

Tony pouted, because not only was he unable to touch Rhodey now, but Rhodey had pulled off of him again. Tony peered up at Rhodey, his lips all pouty and his eyes all round and pretty just the way Rhodey loved.

"Rhodey!" Tony whined.

"You're fine, Tony. You just gotta be a good boy for me. You can do that can't you?"

Tony huffed in annoyance, but pursed his lips for a kiss. Rhodey chuckled and gave him what he wanted, because he really hated telling Tony no. Tony smiled into the kiss, forgetting all about being annoyed. Rhodey had a way of distracting Tony to the point that he was truly astonished that he could ever think about anything other than Rhodey and his touch and the way his smile was so fond and his words so affectionate.

"Keep your hands up here, okay, angel?"

Tony hummed, nodding his head, and Rhodey squeezed his wrists lightly before letting go and sliding back down to suck him off. Tony dropped his hands a couple of times, but Rhodey had the patience of a saint and each time he would just pull off and grab Tony's hands, putting them back where he wanted them before continuing.

It really didn't take all that long before Tony was screaming through his release. Rhodey didn't pull off that time when Tony's hands returned to his head. He did grab his wrists in one hand, holding them securely to Tony's chest instead, but he didn't stop swallowing down Tony's load and his free hand slipped down, his finger swiping through the saliva that was making Tony's balls glisten, before pressing into him and milking his prostate.

Tony's thighs clenched around Rhodey's head as he finished, the last bit of cum dribbling out of his slit. Rhodey eagerly licked at it and Tony whined, his legs falling open. His muscles went slack and his limbs felt like jello, or noodles, or any other food related metaphor for feeling boneless. Rhodey showed him some mercy when Tony jerked away from his tongue, feeling way too sensitive to be played with. Even Rhodey’s breath, all warm and tingly, was a lot when it brushed over Tony’s dick. Tony was relieved when Rhodey turned his attention elsewhere, pressing kisses to his thigh and sucking more hickeys into the slightly less sensitive skin.

"Fuck, you're so pretty like this, baby. So pretty all laid out for me. So soft and sweet for me."

Tony would have protested against being called soft and sweet, except he felt like he was floating and couldn't really find it in himself to care. If anything it just made him feel kinda fuzzy and warm inside. So Tony just hummed in agreement and reached out for Rhodey. Rhodey cooed at him and crawled back up to kiss Tony. It wasn't exactly the most coordinated kiss, because Tony's tongue felt heavy in his mouth and he felt like he was moving in slow motion, but Rhodey thought he was so fucking cute all fucked out like this.

Rhodey gave Tony a few minutes to just enjoy the after effects of his orgasm, murmuring soft words in his ear and shifting until Tony was cuddled up into his side. His fingers brushed through Tony's hair while Tony drew patterns on his skin. His head was resting on Rhodey's chest and his leg was thrown over his hips. Tony felt like he was in heaven.

"You okay, pretty boy?" Rhodey asked softly.

"S'good, Rhodey. Feel good."

"Yeah? You ready for more?"

Tony whimpered, pressing his face into Rhodey's chest and clutching at his shirt. Rhodey was still fully clothed and Tony was still wearing a shirt, but Tony didn't care. The fabric didn't feel like it was hindering them. He still felt just as close to Rhodey, like they couldn't possibly get any closer than they were now. He knew logically that what he was feeling wasn't just about physically being close to Rhodey, but about feeling emotionally connected to him. Rhodey would say it was a soul connection and in moments like this Tony was almost inclined to agree with him.

"No, just want you to hold me," Tony mumbled.

Rhodey smiled, his eyes adoring as he watched Tony rub his face against his shirt before huffing and shifting until he could bury his nose in Rhodey's neck and sniff at his skin. Rhodey chuckled affectionately, gripping lightly at the hair on the nape of his neck.

"Like the way you smell."

"Yeah? What do I smell like? Sweat?"

Tony shook his head slightly.

"Just smells good."

"Well, I love how sweet you get after you cum. You're so beautiful, baby."

Tony just hummed in response and Rhodey held him close until Tony lifted his head and looked around the room.

"What are you looking for, Tones?"

"Crackers?"

Rhodey glanced over at the packet on the side table, but didn't hand them to Tony, instead he untangled their limbs, shifting Tony off of him despite Tony’s protesting whines and obvious distaste for the new seating arrangement. Rhodey was now sitting on the edge of the bed and Tony gave him the most offended look.

"C'mere, baby. Sit with me and you can have some crackers."

Tony pouted and made grabby hands at Rhodey.

"Want my Rhodey!" Tony whined.

"Aw, I know you do, angel. Come sit with me," Rhodey coaxed.

Tony just whined and Rhodey raised an unimpressed brow at him.

"If you want something you need to be a big boy and ask for it, Tony."

Tony huffed in annoyance, pushing up until he was sitting up and glared at Rhodey like he had done something especially cruel. Tony hated being told off and he hated not being given what he wanted, especially when what he wanted was Rhodey.

"Help me," Tony demanded.

Rhodey just clicked his tongue and Tony whined again, a high pitched needy sound that perfectly conveyed just how little he wanted to do anything on his own right now.

"Please, Rhodey." Tony made grabby hands at him again and pouted, batting his eyes in the way that he knew was irresistible for Rhodey to deny him what he wanted.

"Aw, do you want my help, baby? Here, let me help you," Rhodey cooed at him, standing up and scooping Tony up off the bed before settling back on the edge.

Tony curled up in his lap happily and opened his mouth expectantly, letting Rhodey feed him crackers until the packet was almost empty. Rhodey kissed away the crumbs at the corners of his lips before laying Tony back down and pressing his fingers into Tony's mouth. Tony sucked on them obediently, eager to have Rhodey open him up. Tony, despite what the media might say, really didn’t just have sex all the time. When you lived in the spotlight the way Tony did anytime you were seen with a woman you ended up on the headlines, people gossiping about your latest fling like they actually knew something.

In reality, Tony hadn’t slept with anyone but Rhodey since they started dating in freshman year and they didn’t even fuck every night. While Tony was the life of the party and definitely a social bug, Rhodey was much more studious. He accompanied Tony to parties on the weekends when Tony really let go and partied the hardest and it usually ended in sex. To Tony there wasn’t that big of a difference between a Monday morning and a Saturday night, except that Rhodey had classes on Monday mornings so there was no sex to be had. Still Rhodey convinced him to keep his weekday partying to a minimum.

Tony complained about it frequently, because it wasn’t like he was failing any of his classes. They all knew Tony could show up hungover to every single one of his classes and still be the top student. Teachers loved him, his peers were eager to be put in a group with him, and only half of that was due to Tony’s charm and never ending string of jokes and sarcasm. Tony was brilliant through and through and he could spend an hour on a paper and score better than the kid sitting next to him who fretted over it for an entire week.

As much as Tony whined and pouted he loved knowing that Rhodey cared about him. He wanted Tony to have fun and be happy, but he also wanted Tony to be healthy and drinking through a bottle of liquor every night just wasn’t healthy by any standards. Tony was also pretty reckless in general, but add alcohol on top of that and Tony, even as smart as he was, was more than willing to do the stupidest shit like make photocopies of his ass with Clint and hang them up around the campus or jump off a two story balcony, because Bucky swore he could catch him. Tony had luckily not got too injured since the bushes cushioned his fall, but he had definitely bruised more than just his ego.

So Tony could see some validity in Rhodey’s concern about him having a little too much fun sometimes, and quite frankly he loved that Rhodey cared about his well-being. No one else really cared about Tony that way. Sure his friends cared about him, but they also were equally as prone to making dumbass decisions with him that ended in Tony promising to never do it again while Rhodey fretted over him and scolded him. It was a little annoying sometimes, but also endearing and Tony wouldn’t change it for the world.

Rhodey pulled his fingers out of Tony’s mouth and circled them lightly around his rim, pressing ever so slightly.

“Rhodey?” Tony murmured, mouthing at his jaw.

“What is it, baby?”

“Want you.”

“You have me, Tones.”

Tony smiled, a light blush on his cheeks at the promise behind those words. He laid there, not entirely still because he couldn’t help but squirm around a bit while Rhodey worked him open, but Tony let Rhodey do all of the work. He knew that Rhodey would take good care of him, he always did. So Tony just let Rhodey have his way, only begging for more a couple of times when Rhodey was taking way too long. Mostly he let Rhodey have his fun though, knowing that Rhodey loved to take things slow and torment Tony by teasing him. As much as Tony whined and begged, he really did love it and Rhodey was very aware of this.

When Rhodey did finally pull his fingers out and replaced them with his cock, flipping Tony over and lifting his hips to slip inside of his thoroughly loosened hole, Tony’s mouth fell open in a silent cry and his hands clutched at the sheets. Rhodey started out slow, easing himself in and out until Tony was whining and desperate for more. Rhodey didn’t speed up much, but he made his thrusts harder, mouthing at Tony’s back and shoulder as he took him apart little by little. Tony was an absolute mess under him, moaning into the pillow and unsure of whether he wanted to press back into Rhodey and demand that he pound him into the mattress like he did last weekend, or just go limp and let Rhodey have his way with him.

Tony settled on a combination of the two, his muscles feeling way too noodly and his head feeling too dizzy for him to really want to put effort into holding himself up. So he let Rhodey hold his hips up, otherwise melting into the bed, more than happy to just let Rhodey run the show. He did beg for more though and whine when Rhodey just chuckled in his ear and told him to be a good boy and take what he was given. By the time Rhodey finished inside of him Tony was glistening with sweat and barely able to open his eyes. He did little more than whimper when he felt Rhodey’s hips still, his hands gripping at Tony’s hips hard enough to bruise, and Tony moaned at the feeling of his cum painting his walls and making him feel all hot inside.

It was almost too much and Tony was just glad that Rhodey didn’t try to get Tony off again, because he was not ready for another orgasm. His body already felt lit up and hot to the point of feverish and he was pretty sure that if he hadn’t eaten those crackers that he would have thrown up by now. Rhodey seemed to understand that Tony had reached his limit though and didn’t attempt to push him any further. Instead he just flopped down next to Tony and pulled him into his arms, cradling his head to his chest. Rhodey tried to cover them up, knowing that Tony’s roommate would probably show up soon, but he gave up on that attempt when Tony complained it was too hot and just shoved the sheets back off.

That’s how Sam found them, showing up shortly after that. Tony didn’t even lift his head in acknowledgement when the door opened. He knew it was Sam, because he was the only other person with a key, so he wasn’t exactly concerned about it. Besides, Tony was far too comfortable all cuddled up to Rhodey and his head had finally stopped spinning, so he didn’t want to risk lifting it back up quite yet.

Bucky tugged Sam into the room, giggling and flirting, seemingly unaware of Rhodey and Tony. Sam noticed them and definitely noticed that they were naked, but he really didn't care. This was definitely not the first time he had walked in on Tony in a compromising position. Not to mention that Tony had no shame where his body was concerned and tended to lounge around in nothing but a band tee, seeming totally unperturbed when it rode up to reveal a whole lot more than just smooth thighs. Sam was much more focused on his boyfriend who was ready for his own post party fun.

Tony decided it was worth trying to move since Bucky was there. Bucky and Tony hadn’t gotten along all that well when they first met. There was a very mild jello incident where they both insisted that the other had maliciously taken the last jello cup from the cafeteria that led to a not so mild rivalry. It wasn’t until a drunken night of partying a few months into freshman year led to them making out and then bonding over equally awful hangovers that they set aside their differences. They’d been thick as thieves ever since and they’re make out session morphed into a lasting friendship.

"Bucky! Sammy!" Tony tried to squirm his way out of Rhodey's arms. "Want my friends, Rhodey!"

Rhodey just chuckled at his whining and nuzzled against his neck like Tony was the most precious thing in the world.

"No, baby, you're not going anywhere while my cum is still leaking out of you."

"Rhodey!" Tony whined, reaching his hand out for Bucky who looked over at him and blinked in surprise, like he honestly hadn't noticed he was there until that moment.

"Bucky's busy, Tony. You can cuddle with him when we're done."

Tony pouted at Sam's words, but Bucky's eyes fell shut and his back arched beautifully off the bed when Sam pressed a spit slicked finger inside of him. Tony didn't get to focus on them for long, even though he definitely had no qualms with watching them together. Rhodey slipped down and settled back between his legs, pulling Tony's legs up over his shoulders and lifting his hips up.

Tony squealed in surprise when Rhodey licked at him, his head straining to watch as he sucked and slurped the cum out of him. His squeal turned into a moan and his head fell back onto the bed. Just like that Tony lost himself in pleasure again and when it was done and Rhodey had him all curled up in his arms once more, Tony was way too out of it to care about cuddling with Bucky. He was practically asleep and more than happy to be in Rhodey's arms.

Bucky was in a similar state when Sam finished fucking him and he mumbled something about cuddles being able to wait until the morning, making a vague gesture towards Tony's bed. Sam and Rhodey just chuckled and reached over to switch off the lamps on the side tables. In the morning Tony and Bucky got to bond over their shitty hangovers again, becoming reacquainted with the toilet bowl, before curling up in Sam’s bed while their boyfriends bonded over just how adorable they were and an equally strong desire to fetch them breakfast and water and just in general coo and fret over them.

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himooonlight · 4 years

Text

who are you? pt. 2 (reggie x reader)

pairing: reggie x reader

word count: 4.8k

plot: you dream about reggie constantly and when you see him perfoming with julie, you decide to ask her about him

warnings: reggie is too cute. that's the warning

A/N: english is not my first language and this is my first fanfic, so please, be nice ok? enjoy :)

you can read part 1 here

- What? How can you know that? - Julie asks, sounding surprised. - No, Luke, I don't know her.

Reggie's gaze is fixed on me. I feel chills rising from my belly to the tips of my ears so I shake my shoulders, trying to get rid of the sensation.

- Alex, don't do that. - Reggie says, looking in my direction. Confused, I turn around looking for Alex, but there is nobody there.

It's amazing how realistic the hologram is. It's almost like I can see the colors of Reggie's eyes clearly, even his pores and freckles. I search for a projector and find nothing, so I decide it's time to stop ignoring my questions. Reggie has already confirmed that he is who I imagined, so it's Julie's turn to clarify what kind of madness is going on.

The acting classes haven't prepared me at all for the moment that I find myself questioning my own sanity.

- Are Alex and Luke part of the band? - I ask to no one in particular. I accept responses from Julie or Reggie. Maybe I prefer Julie, since Reginald is a synonym for craziness in my mind. - Reggie never told me their names.

- Can't you see them?

- No. Are they here too? Why can't I see their hologram as well?

Reggie gives a short sarcastic laugh, something I've never seen him do. Be ironic. That was not as attractive as his easy-going personality, his funny and flirtatious ways and his warm smile. It seemed to clash with his version of my dreams and I wondered if maybe it was all a lie. It could be that I had created that Reggie completely and as much as the happiness I felt for him was not a lie, it could be that he, as the person I loved, did not exist. Still, I wanted to be close to him and be able to love him from up close.

- We are not holograms and I thought you already knew that. - He replied. - No, Alex, it's okay. I can't explain, but I just know she is important. It's natural, just like you can tell when it's time to go to the bathroom, you know?

I look at Julie waiting for her to say something, mainly because I prefer not to think about Reggie's comparison of his feelings with an internal sphincter alerting his brain about his physiological needs.

Julie doesn't seem convinced, but she looks defeated.

- I think we have a lot to explain, but we need time. Can you meet us after class? In the chemistry lab? It's my last class of the day. - She says, looking tired and conflicted. I really don’t want to make her feel that way, but I am already too irritated at the way I handled things before. I'm almost mad at my own personality.

I am basically a shy person. However, there's a lot of different personas within me that can appear depending on who's around me or where I am. The original Y/N, the person I am independently of the environment or how I am with, is irrationally careful. I prefer to observe people, not bother anyone, not speak too loudly if it is not necessary. That's why I am not offended that Julie doesn't know me; because I am unapologetic for my personality - I am not ashamed of not wanting everyone to know my name, no matter how much I like the art that puts me in the spotlight.

Maybe art is different for girls like me and Carrie Wilson, for example. She performs for other people while I do it for myself, to help and express myself. I'm still not sure what kind of person Julie is, possibly a mix of both of us.

- I think I'll spend the rest of the day with... what's your name again? - Reggie says, looking a little more like the version of my dreams.

I was excited before, but now I am just questioning my own decisions. I seemed to have complicated Julie's life and Reggie didn't seem so happy to meet me. The idea that I had created for that moment was certainly better in my head than in real life, because in my imagination Reginald would have explanations for me and would also fall in love easily. I blame it on my overthinking skills and stupid research, because according to what I had read, it was a case of "connection beyond life", not just a series of coincidences and feelings nurtured with patience. Apparently, we were soulmates.

Or it could be that I saw his band somewhere before and created the whole story in my mind. Detailed and with too many specific facts, but it's still a possibility.

For the first time, I don't prefer to believe in the rational explanation. Sometimes it just takes a little bit of madness and magic for things to sound and be better.

- My name is Y/N L/N. - I answer. - But in a dream you called me…

- L/N! - A shout coming from the door interrupts me. Nick is standing there, looking weird. His dark jeans and long black jacket don't seem to match the boy who usually greets me with an excited and happy smile. It's something in his posture and in the way his eyes seem to call for help. He looks uncomfortable. - I waited for you in the cafeteria to help me with math, but you didn't show up.

He doesn't say anything about Reggie, so I assume he disappeared again. I don't know what Julie's trick is, but I don't turn around to check so I don't look crazy.

Nick's features soften unnaturally. He seems to be practicing some theatrical exercise, considering that his mouth forms and deforms a smile every second, imitating a broken doll. His eyes are on Julie, as if expecting a reaction from her and I wonder if he's using me to try to make her jealous. Which clearly wouldn't do any good. People don't even associate my name with his; everyone knows that I am only his tutor. And to me he is almost like a distant younger cousin.

- Sorry, Julie was helping me with a song. - I lie, smiling weakly at him and adjusting my backpack. I don't like to lie because I'm bad at it, but we're not close enough for me to feel bad or anything. The actress persona helps at times like this. - But now I have to go to my next class. Thanks for the help, Julie. Tomorrow at lunch I'll help you, Nick. I'm really sorry, I completely forgot about it.

I nod at her and widen my eyes when I see Reggie standing beside me. I turn completely to Nick and he doesn't show any reaction, so I just keep walking outside with Reggie by my side, looking at me with a funny look on his face. He walks sideways and I can't help but smile at the feeling of him so close to me.

In order not to look crazy, I search my pockets for earphones and grab a script from the last play we worked on. I pretend to train lines while talking to him.

- Nobody can see you. This is too weird. Shouldn't you be a hologram? - I ask, looking ahead and speaking quietly. There aren't many students in the hallways yet because there are still a few minutes before class starts, but I need to be discreet anyway. - Why can I see you then?

In a wider step, he stops in front of me and starts walking backwards. I can look him in the eyes while I feel butterflies in my stomach. With his attention on me, I seem to have an entire zoo inside my stomach wanting to express how I feel about him.

- I'm not a hologram. - He answers. - Do you know what happens to people when they die?

- They turn to dust? - I try. Reggie ponders, but nods no. - They turn into stars?

He laughs. In a precious way that seems to heal any pain I may feel.

He laughs. And time seems to stop.

Seeing his smile and his happiness in front of me makes me want to physically express what I feel, so before I can think about it, my arms reach up to hug him. In slowmotion, I see Reggie close his eyes and smile, as if waiting for my arms to wrap around him, as if he also wants a physical confirmation of affection. His cute dimples appear and I imagine that I, standing alone in the hall, look like an idiot.

My arms go through him, so I pretend I'm stretching.

- I wish I could feel you. - He speaks. His tone breaks my heart even when I thought it was not possible to feel more disappointmented.

I don't know what to say to him, so I don't say anything. It was natural in my dreams to walk hand in hand, touch his nose with mine, hug him and feel the warmth emanating from his body. Both dreams, as a man and in the recent ones as myself: I always knew that Reginald was there. As much as dreams were not part of physical reality, I seemed to really feel him, so I made an effort to demonstrate how happy he made me feel. And he also didn't hold back, always expressing with his body that he was there; either touching my hair, playing with my fingers, bumping his shoulders against mine, anything. I didn't understand how frustrating it could be to not be able to touch him until this moment. When this simple verb is all I desire.

To touch him.

But he is dead.

I'm in love with a ghost that lived in my dreams.

The two of us, defeated and without exchanging another word, get to the auditorium quickly. The door is open, but there is no one inside. We enter in silence and sit in the back. The comfortable black chairs and the maroon carpet are about to witness my madness when he sits beside me and puts his hand on mine. He stares at his fingers with intensity, making a vein in his neck pop a little. I can't help looking at him without reservations, mentally writing down his details. The way his face is triangular, his pink cheeks and his adorable asymmetrical nose. His lips are slightly parted and his hair looks so soft and inviting to the touch. I only look away from his face when I feel a light weight on my skin.

He is touching my hand in a timid and almost imperceptible way. Shocked, I look at the position of our fingers, feeling hope run through my body. The intoxicating and numbing hope.

Hope that he can be real.

- I can hold a few things when I focus. - Reggie doesn't look able to focus on more than one thing at the same time though. - And with you I have difficulty focusing, to be honest.

With that comment, I can't help but smile. My shock is exchanged with happiness to know that I'm not feeling all these beautiful feelings alone. That I'm not by myself, trying to understand the bad ones either.

- Are you a ghost, Reggie? - The question rolls off my tongue with difficulty. It doesn't sound like a question; it's more of a statement. He confirms my assumption and I can taste the bad flavor that hope can give. It's a taste of disappointment, sadness, resentment. - And I am your unfinished business, hum? What does that mean?

- I'm not sure what I need to do, but I know it involves you. At least I think so. And even if you don't feel the same way, you can see me, but not Alex and Luke. Until now, I thought we had unfinished business together, but maybe each one of us has separate things that we need to take care of. - His touch disappears and I miss him. I can't feel him anymore, but the weight of his words certainly make up for it. - We need to find out what's our deal.

"Our deal". So romantic.

Before I can answer, the teacher arrives with a group of students behind him. I wave at them and get up, sitting in the third row. I like to be close, but not too close. That way I have some space to ponder about wanting to participate or just keep watching.

- Y/N. - Reggie calls. I can't say anything with so many people around, so I decide to ignore him. Mr. Ortega, the teacher, looks excited. We will start discussing the characters for the next play and he will probably comment on contributions to the story. - L/N. Darling. Cutie. - I still don't answer, but I can't help smiling. Listening to those things really feels like he's the Reggie from my dreams. - Pumpkin. Precious little nugget.

My attention remains focused on the teacher, who decides to sit on the edge of the stage. He pushes himself up with his arms and turns his torso to land correctly where he wants to. It's amazing how most of the theater people seem to express themselves naturally, as if they can float. Most of my classmates also look like this, as if they don't overthink anything. What they wear, how they speak, their hand movements; everything is fluid. It's intriguing how different people can be.

I assume I can be wrong too. Maybe the teacher thought long before he sitted there, maybe he thought about it over lunch. Maybe my classmates are nervous to answer simple questions, maybe even Carrie has her doubts about herself. People are also intriguing because you can never tell what's on their mind, how they truly feel, what's honest and what's just mean lies.

Most days I'm fine not knowing though.

- If you don't answer me, I'll be mean. - The teacher starts talking about our choice between a musical or an immersive play (that he sounds very excited about). - You leave me no choice, Y/N. Hey, bowl of cereal that's been sitting out for like an hour. Tiny wet socks.

He needs to stop before I start laughing while the teacher talks about his love for immersive theater. I look in his direction as if begging for him to stop, but Reggie sees it as an incentive.

I couldn't have created his personality. Not in my dreams nor in real life. Reggie is interesting, quirky and too adorable for me to have invented him. My imagination is not so fertile as to be able to come up with a person as engaging as him. But it is no comfort to know that he is a ghost, that there is no chance that my dreams could come true.

I was basically stuck on a roller coaster that I didn't want to go on. It was like I was at the top, happy to see the whole park and sad to know that I was going to fall soon. Ruthlessly, with the possibility of getting sick on the way, sure. Still there was no possibility of leaving or regretting being there. There was just the option of going forward knowing I couldn't be the same as I was before I saw the park from up there.

- Rainy day. - He continues. I take a pen out of my backpack and flip the script over, writing a "stop it" in block letters. - Do you need to pay attention in this class?

I look at the teacher, who continues to talk excitedly about our options for the play, and write "you've got 5 minutes", to which he responds by jumping in his seat. I keep looking ahead, but pay attention to what he says, leaving my palm facing up. He sees it as an invitation and leaves his hand over mine, without touching it. Reggie begins to tell a story of when he went to a kennel and saw a puppy named Y/N and wanted to adopt the little animal, but he found out in the worst way that he was allergic. He said he didn't care. Then he told me that he liked my perfume and that it reminded him of spring. And that he missed being alive. I write a "I can't smell you; what do you smell like?", which he reads quickly. He takes his wrist up to his nose and smells it.

- I think I smell like autumn. - He shrugs. - I'll let you pay attention now. See you with Julie later, okay? Have a good rest of the day.

Reggie leans over, like he's going to kiss me on the cheek. He did that in my dreams too many times, whenever he said hi or goodbye. It had started with a conversation about different cultures and ended with a promise to travel together - just words thrown in the wind. I remember waking up sad to know it would never happen. With him so close now, I can only hold my breath and hope he can kiss me.

- Sorry. - He says, walking away before we can find out how his lips would feel on my skin in real life. He disappears before I can say goodbye.

I am spring, he is autumn. Opposite seasons that will never exist at the same time in the same place. Both important, intense and simply different; both loved. It's still very bittersweet that such beautiful feelings can't blossom together; because when I bloom, he dies, just like autumn leaves.

The rest of the class is focused on the choice of the play and I try my best to pay attention, but it's difficult to think of anything other than Reginald. I can only focus on something else when I am in the last class of the day and Nick sits next to me. It's math and I assume he's going to ask for help with his homework, but he starts the conversation questioning my relationship with Julie. His tone is not subtle curiosity, but more like someone who is going to ask for a favor.

- I really just wanted to ask something about a song that I thought would be good for our next play. - I try to sound chill about it, but the way Nick looks at me makes me anxious. He's different, acting like he's playing a part I don't know about. I don't know much about him to bet on it, but I believe I am good enough at reading people to know that there is something strange about him today. - But is there anything I can help you with? I thought you were going to see her on Saturday. You did go to her house, right?

He smiles at me and a shiver runs down my spine.

- Yes, I went to her house. I just wanted to know if you guys talked about me.

I answer a simple "no" and let my brain interpret his words and actions. His posture is too upright and there is an air of superiority in the way he moves. His body language looks different. He seems to feel like he is better than everyone and I never took Nick as pretentious.

He starts to draw something that I don't really identify at first, but I soon recognize the tarot card number one.

The Magician.

The man in his drawing has one arm up and the other is pointing down, representing the magician's connection between the spiritual realms and the material realms. I can only tell this is the Magician card because of the four elements Nick draws on the paper: a cup, a pentacle, a sword and a wand. It symbolizes the four elements water, earth, air and fire, meaning that the magician has it all.

Nick takes his time to draw the flowers and foliage around the magician, which makes me think that he believes that this person or feeling is very creative and clever. At least, that's the original meaning for the card. The boy also draws the infinite symbol above the head and when I think he's about to finish the drawing with the snake around the magician's waist, he stops.

It's incomplete.

The infinity symbol and the snake mean access to unlimited potential. Maybe Nick's magician doesn't feel so powerful. Maybe there's something holding him back.

- Sneaky, huh?

His voice is firm and low. He doesn't sound mad or surprised that I was in fact watching him. He sounds superior, like he is trying to tease me.

- Sorry.

I can't focus on the rest of the class because it seems that as much as Nick's head is turned forward, towards where the teacher is, it seems like he's paying attention to every move I make. How I hold the pen, how I breathe, how I write. It's nerve wracking.

When the class is over and Nick leaves, I think about his drawing and notice a detail that I hadn't paid attention to before. Nick's quick fingers painting the magician's robe.

It's a black robe. Nick's magician has a black robe.

It's never a black essentially, because it's supposed to be white, alluding to purity.

- Ready to go? - Reggie's head appears on the door. I pack the rest of my things and say goodbye to the teacher. She smiles at me, not knowing I'm about to speak to the dead.

We really never know what's going on in someone's life.

I take out my phone and put it close to my ear so I can "talk" to Reggie. My classroom is in the same corridor as the chemistry lab, but at opposite extremes. Because it's a big school, we have about 5 minutes to get there, especially with the slow pace he and I take. The boy smiles and does the same as before, walking backwards in front of me, so that we can talk looking at each other. I like that he also likes to look at me.

- Tell me some of your stories. - He asks.

Testing the waters, I tell him the same story I told a few days ago, in my dreams.

- My mom once ordered two pizzas from different places because she had coupons. The two delivery guys arrived at our door together and one of them started singing "why can't we be friends" in a very funny way, but the other didn't like it very much. In the end I'm sure they exchanged numbers. Too much tension in the air, you know?

- I can only imagine their faces. - Reggie replies. - But that's very smart of your mom. She sounds nice.

- She is very cool. My dad is very funny and my older sister is… well, older. She is grumpy most of the time, but she has a good heart. Do you miss your family?

I would miss mine for sure. I only have my mother, my father and my sister; the rest of the family decided not to accept my sister's girlfriend, which made the four of us form our own independent clan. No aunt, no grandfather, no cousin. Nobody else; we could only trust ourselves. As much as holidays like Christmas could make us smile fakely and reduce our lifespan a little with boring conversations, at the end of the day it is the four of us against the world. A cruel world that did not accept my sister for who she loved, which was stupid.

- Yeah, a little. My parents didn't love each other anymore, but they were still my parents, right? It doesn't matter that they were a couple first.

- And they will never stop being your parents. They can split, but even now, they're still your parents, Reggie. - He smiles sadly at me. - Don't you wanna see them?

We stop for a while in the middle of the hallway. There aren't many students because most of them have already headed to the exit. I put my phone back in my pocket so I can extend my hand to him. Every contact needs to come from him, because no matter how much I focus, I can't meet him halfway. He has to go all the way by himself. He reads my intentions quickly and imitates me, holding his palm up. I can feel the pressure of his hand against mine and his timid warmth. His thumb gets between my thumb and pointing finger, almost intertwining our hands. His pinky is almost circling mine in a half hug. I stare at his eyes with love and adoration, hoping I'm interpreting right and he is indeed doing the same.

He must be focusing a lot for this to happen.

- Would you help me find them? - He asks.

Reggie doesn't know, but with his hands on mine I'd say yes to anything and everything.

- Of course! We'll find them.

He starts walking again and I quickly put my hand down.

- Thank you. But now, tell me: - His smile makes me smile too. I'm glad this version of him is very happy all the time. - did it hurt?

- Let me guess. When I fell from heaven?

- No.

- What?

- Did it hurt when you fell for me?

I roll my eyes and walk faster, passing him to get to the classroom before I can say that yes, it hurted. A lot. Falling for him was oh so sweet, but also hurtful.

Loving him made me realize that distraction and destruction sound awfully alike and sometimes you don't understand which one it is. Distraction, destruction; both, none.

What started as a way to feel more excited about life and its possibilities turned into something more, something bigger that I couldn't explain. In the beginning the dreams were entertaining, interesting. Just emotions not really related to me as a person. It was more about sensations, experiences. But soon enough I was thinking about him when I got up too, not just before going to sleep.

- Hey, Y/N. - Julie says as soon as I see her exiting the classroom. She's with Flynn, who probably knows everything by now. She smiles and waves at me. I wave back and Reggie does too, like the fool he is. - Do you want to go to my house? You can stay for dinner too, if you want.

- I'll check with my sister. If I know her at all, she'll take me to your house and check with your dad if he's fine with everything. Is it ok?

- Sure! - Julie answers. - Is she going to pick you up here?

- Yeah. She'll be here any minute actually. You can text me your address and I'll meet you there.

She hands me her phone and I add my number saved under "Y/N (who's very sorry about everything)". They wave goodbye while Reggie stays by my side.

- I'll see you in a bit, right?

He sounds unsure and I wonder if anyone would ever be stupid enough to leave him. His puppy eyes are too much for me to handle, so I start walking to the parking lot, where my sister usually waits for me. He follows me.

- Of course. Even if my sister says no, I will text Julie and we will figure something out. - That would be the moment that I would give his hand a squeeze, just to make sure he knows I mean it. - Don't worry, okay?

- I'm not worried. I have this feeling I'll always find you, so it's alright. - Before disappearing, he winks at me. - See you later, alligator.

I'm still smiling when I spot Daisy's car and get in. My sister looks at me with her eyes half closed, silently questioning what happened for me to be in such a good mood.

- Okay, I have boy problems. - I say. She doesn't drive, so she can still stare at me. - Big ones.

- Like "his dead body is too big to hide" or "you like him" problems?

- I like him.

- It's a shame then. I could've helped you with the other one. - She starts driving and misses the way I roll my eyes at her answer. - Why is it a problem though?

- Oh, it's simple. He doesn't exist.

- Too many fanfictions, huh?

- Something like that. - I shrug. - Can you take me to a friends house? I'd like to talk to her about my boy problems.

As we drive to Julie's house, I wonder why I'd be Reggie's unfinished business and if I'll ever be able to meet him halfway, because we do share the same feeling, even though I didn't say anything to him before.

I also feel like I would always find him.

Doesn't matter when or where, I'd always find Reggie.

#reggie x reader #reggie x y/n #reggie fanfic #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms fanfic #jatp fanfic #jatp #reggie jatp #reggie #juke fanfic #julie and luke fanfic #julie molina #luke patterson #alex and willie #fanfic #fanfic reader #fluff #fanfic fluff

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jaybear1701 · 3 years

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The call comes sooner than Pam’s expecting, though honestly she’s not even sure what she expects now that a good chunk of her life is back in shambles, just when she thought she had finally gotten her shit together.

She knows it’s a mess of her own making, for once again allowing emotions to prevail over reason, but it still hurts, the pain somehow worse than it was a decade ago. Back then, when she and Ellen first walked away from each other, Pam knew that Ellen would always have a piece of her heart. But now? Now it feels like she left it entirely in Houston, her chest aching and hollow.

She answers the phone on her desk without thinking, on autopilot after a late drive back to Austin, a sleepless night tossing and turning on a motel bed, and not enough caffeine in the shitty coffee from the faculty lounge.

“Pam Horton,” she says in the most upbeat voice she can muster, cradling the receiver to her ear.

“Pam, it’s Larry.”

Breath catching in her throat, she’s torn between dread and hope. She briefly considers hanging up, but Larry’s next words make her hand still.

“She’s a mess. You’ve gotta at least talk to her.”

Tears sting Pam’s eyes and she squeezes them shut. “I can’t do that.” She knows she couldn’t bear to hear the heartbreak in Ellen’s voice, or worse, see it spread across her face.

“Why not?”

“You already know.”

Larry sighs on the other end. “Look, I know you think you’re doing what’s best for Ellen. But she deserves a say. Don’t take that away from her.”

She wants to snap at him to mind his own damn business, irritation spiking. She doesn’t need Larry twisting the knife when he’s had a decade of reaping the benefits of his marriage to Ellen. But she bites the inside of her cheek and manages to refrain. It’s not Larry’s fault that things are the way they are, at least not entirely. Pam keeps her voice steady when she says instead, “Thanks for calling, Larry.”

“Pam, wait--”

“Bye.”

Pam hangs up the phone quickly, already feeling worse than she already had. But she refuses to cry. It’s all for the best, she tells herself as she leans back into her desk chair. For all of them.

She got over Ellen Wilson once before.

She can do it again.

Eventually.

But today is definitely not that day.

Especially not when Pam’s hunkered down inside one of the college’s fallout shelters, breathing in stale air and wondering like the rest of her students whether the next breath could be their last. They’re surrounded by thick slabs of concrete and rebar. In one corner are two massive water tanks that the custodial staff have been trying to fill since the harsh blare of the air-raid siren blanketed the campus in panic and confusion. A few other instructors huddle around a transistor radio, anxiously awaiting any word that the emergency is over.

If Pam could, she’d laugh at the absurdity of it all. Because of course the world could end in nuclear armageddon the day after she left the love of her life.

She knows she should try to comfort her small class of budding writers, who fidget on the cold metal of their folding chairs. Should maybe tell them that everything’s gonna be all right. But Pam knows better than to lie, so she keeps silent, mind zigzagging from one thought to the next.

Pulse pounding in her temples, she wonders if her parents made it to their bunker and wishes that she had returned their last calls sooner. Hopes, with a pang between her ribs, that Elise has made it to safety. Tries not to imagine Flannery, their Maine Coon cat, cowering beneath what used to be their bed.

But most of all, she thinks of Ellen.

Always Ellen.

She allows herself, in a moment of weakness, to envision how the morning would have gone if she had just stayed. Pam would have held Ellen close, forever amused by the fact that the fearless astronaut--the girl who caught the tank, no less--always preferred to be the “little spoon,” back tucked snugly against Pam’s front, their legs curled into one another’s. And before she’d have to slip out of bed to solve the latest crisis at JSC, Ellen would’ve turned in Pam’s arms and warmed her with a gentle kiss.

Regret squeezes her lungs so hard, she almost can’t breathe, and she forces herself to suck in air and push it back out. It must come out harsher than she intends because one of her students leans toward her, forehead creased with worry.

“You okay, Ms. Horton?”

Pam’s lips form a wholly unconvincing smile. “I’m fine, Judy.” Snapping out of her stupor, she reaches inside her messenger bag on the floor, pulling out a small notebook and a pencil.

“What’re you doing?” Judy watches Pam flip to an empty page.

“Pouring out a double,” Pam deadpans. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“How can you write at a time like this?” Another student, Valerie, asks.

Pam can’t tell them the truth. That if she doesn’t do this, she just might break down entirely.

So she merely shrugs as she presses lead to paper. “How can you not?”

Somehow, the world survives.

All thanks to a handshake in space.

When the news breaks over the radio, Pam is weak-kneed from relief, clapping and cheering with her students and colleagues. She wipes away the wetness on her cheeks as pride swells within her, knowing that astronauts she’s known and loved saved them all.

In some small way, it makes her feel justified in her decision to leave Houston. Even though Ellen herself wasn’t on the Apollo, Pam knows she would have been involved in the ultimate outcome. Ellen was born for leadership, and had so much good yet to do. Pam did the right thing in removing herself as an obstacle on Ellen’s path. Right? Right.

Her fellow professors want to celebrate their new lease on life. But Pam’s exhausted and wants nothing more than to crawl back to her motel room with some bourbon and pass out. So she takes her leave, picks up Chinese takeout, and swings by the liquor store where she buys a bottle of Michter’s, convincing herself that she selected it for its quality, and not because it’s Ellen’s favorite.

A shower, full belly, and three sheets to the wind later, Pam finds herself on top of the squeaky motel bed, surfing the late-night news for NASA coverage. Purely as a concerned citizen, of course, and not to catch a glimpse of the agency’s beautiful acting administrator. There’s nothing, though, and Pam lays her right arm over her eyes to block out the spinning room.

She dreams of Ellen.

Always Ellen.

They’re on the gray surface of the moon, surrounded by the twinkling darkness of the star-studded universe. Ellen, in her white space suit, is walking in the distance, her legs skip-floating across the dusty surface. Pam, however, is left exposed in the vacuum, unfathomably alive as she runs after Ellen. Or makes the attempt, hopping in weak gravity. No matter how hard she tries to cross the distance, the farther Ellen seems to pull away.

Her chest hurts, but Pam calls out anyway.

I’m sorry.

I love you.

Please.

Her words are swallowed by cold silence.

Pam wakes with a gasp, swallowing air into her lungs, heart pounding against her ribs. Blinking rapidly, it takes her several long seconds to remember where she is, the motel room slowly coming into focus. The television’s still on, now airing the morning news. Empty takeout boxes remain scattered on a small desk. For some reason, the room’s phone is off its hook, dangling off the side of the nightstand to her right.

Pam chokes back a sob.

Ellen doesn’t try to contact her, as Pam feared she might after her last conversation with Larry.

She should feel relieved. It's what she had wanted, and intended, when she left the letter on Ellen’s bed. And yet, she can’t stem the undercurrent of disappointment that lingers.

The news about Tracy and Gordo Stevens breaks while Pam's searching for a new apartment. Sitting in her favorite pub in Clarksville, tucked away on a quiet street in the historic neighborhood, she’s halfway through the newspaper classifieds when a sudden hush descends. One of the servers turns up the volume on the television above the bar. Photos of Tracy and Gordo in their blue flight suits flash on screen, their smiles confident and bright.

A news anchor says something about an accident at Jamestown, and how they and two other astronauts had lost their lives during the repairs. The exact details are lost on a shell-shocked Pam, a pencil slipping through her now slack fingers. It seems like only yesterday that she was pouring drinks for them both. They had been two of Pam’s favorites--Gordo with his terrible jokes and off-key singing, and Tracy with her kind smile and quiet determination.

They had always treated Pam as one of their own, and she can’t believe they’re gone.

It doesn’t feel real, and yet it’s now reality.

A few weeks later, every channel airs the funeral in Arlington National Cemetery. Elise has it on the television when Pam drops by their house to pick up the last of her things. Well, it’s not their house anymore, technically. It’s Elise’s until the lease to the small rambler expires at the end of the month.

They haven’t seen each other since Pam had left Elise for Ellen, and it’s every bit as awkward as Pam expected. Elise has every right to be hurt and angry, and Pam wouldn’t blame her if she felt the need to lash out. But Elise is civil, almost disconcertingly so, keeping her expression neutral as she walks ahead of Pam to the living room.

“I went ahead and packed the rest of your stuff.” Elise crosses her arms, maintaining her distance.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Pam ducks her head. Elise is nothing but efficient. It’s one of the things Pam loves about her. “But thank you.”

“I’ll let you get to it.” Elise nods and returns to sit on the couch.

A suitcase and several boxes are waiting next to the dining table. Flannery greets Pam instantly, curling around her ankles. Smiling, Pam bends down to pick up the orange Maine Coon.

“Hey, little guy, I’ve missed you,” she murmurs into his soft, fluffy fur. Flannery purrs in response.

On the TV screen, the president is giving a speech at the cemetery’s white-marble memorial amphitheater. Behind him are four coffins draped in the stars and stripes, and Pam’s heart clenches.

“Did you know them, too?” Elise cradles a mug between her hands as she watches the coverage.

“I knew the Stevenses, yeah,” Pam admits quietly.

“Guess there’s a lot you didn’t tell me,” Elise huffs out.

Guilt courses through Pam as she gently lowers Flannery back onto the floor. He meows in protest. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to hide it from you. It was just a part of my life I wanted to forget, I guess.”

Elise doesn’t respond, her eyes glued to the news coverage, where the camera pans to the crowd. Pam’s breath stills when she catches a glimpse of Ellen in black standing solemnly between Danielle Poole and Molly Cobb. She’s on screen for less than three seconds, but it’s enough to discombobulate Pam, who tamps down another swell of grief.

“I’m surprised,” Elise says suddenly, turning her head to regard Pam. “That you’re not there with her.”

I would be, Pam thinks, in a better world. But that’s not the one they live in, and Pam’s not even sure she’ll live to see the day when relationships like theirs will be accepted or, at the very least, tolerated without condemnation.

“It’s not my place,” Pam says vaguely.

She can’t bring herself to tell Elise the truth of what she had done, how in the end she had let Ellen go for the greater good. The pain is still too fresh. Without elaborating further, she picks up the first box with a slight grunt. It’s heavier than it looks.

It takes only a few minutes to load up her car, both amazed and sad that the tangible portion of a life with someone amounted, in the end, to so very little. Elise meets her just outside the storm door with the suitcase, saving Pam one more trip inside.

“Listen, I just…” Elise bites the corner of her lip, brow pinched. “I want you to be happy. And I’m trying to understand, but…”

“I know.” Pam attempts a smile she’s sure comes out half-hearted and weak. “I want you to be happy, too.”

“Just not together.”

“Elise…” Pam exhales slowly through her nostrils. A car rumbles down the street behind her. “I think,” she swallows against a lump forming in her throat, “if Ellen hadn’t walked back into my life, you and I would still want different things.”

Disappointment ripples across Elise’s face, and another wave of remorse washes over Pam. Children have been a sticking point between Pam and Elise, and it isn’t an issue that would simply resolve itself with time. Elise deserves someone who wanted, without hesitation, to build a family with her. And as much as Pam loves her, she just isn’t that person.

Pam takes in a deep breath. “We were friends before. Maybe… maybe one day we could be again.”

Elise only stares, blinks once, twice. “Maybe. I need some time, I think.”

“I understand.”

Nodding, Elise opens the screen door, but pauses before stepping back inside. “Take care of yourself, Pam.”

“You too.”

The door closes with a soft click that nevertheless feels loud in its finality. On a long exhale, Pam picks up the suitcase and walks away.

Life moves on, as it always does, without a care for tragedy or triumph.

In some ways, it’s easier than the last time Pam put herself through a hard reset. She’s not starting from scratch in a new city, or struggling to make ends meet as she works her way through grad school. She has her health, her career, and her freedom to live her life out in the open.

Pam settles into her new apartment in Clarksville. It’s better than the hole-in-the-wall she had rented way back when in Houston, but not by much. Still, it’s hers and she’s grateful for the distraction of unpacking, organizing, and decorating. Between those tasks and teaching, she doesn’t have time for much else.

But sometimes, in quiet moments alone, usually in bed staring up at her dark ceiling, her mind wanders and wonders--just how different would her life be if she had gone down the roads not taken. What if she had stayed with Ellen a decade ago? Could she have tolerated Ellen’s marriage to Larry? Would she have been able to stand the constant fear and anxiety from Ellen’s stints on the moon, not being able to have the same privileges as other spouses and wives? And what of Ellen’s potential foray into politics? Could Pam have found the strength to support her without resentment?

Pam doesn’t know, and will never know, but she explores the possibilities in poems jotted down in notebooks, stories scrawled in journals, and snippets scribbled on restaurant napkins and whatever scraps of paper she can find when the muse strikes. It helps, she thinks. Or hopes.

And so she pushes forward one day at a time: eat, sleep, teach, write. Eventually, she becomes so engrossed in the routine that she blocks out nearly all else, completely missing the news about NASA’s acting administrator stepping down to the surprise of the Reagan administration.

"Pens down, that's all she wrote folks!"

There's a palpable sense of relief around the room, even as some of the first-year students groan when Pam calls time on their final exam.

"Come on, it wasn't so bad, right?" She smiles from her desk as they turn in their papers. "I'm proud of you all. Have a terrific break."

Pam gets up to erase the instructions she had written in the blackboard. The chalk dust makes her nose crinkle, and she brushes her hands off on the front of her pants. Once the classroom empties out, Pam gathers the exams and slips them inside her messenger bag, cursing under her breath when she accidentally knocks a pen from her desk.

As she bends down to retrieve it, the door opens once again.

"Be with you in a sec." Pam stretches her arm to grasp the pen. Straightening back up, she turns to greet her student. "What can I do for…"

Her heart stops.

Ellen Wilson smiles.

"Hi, Pam."

#ellen x pam #for all mankind #ellen waverly #pam horton #spacepoet #canon divergent fix-it fic

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flying-nightwing · 4 years

Text

Act IV: The Finale

Hi people! Finally the last part of this short serie! Honestly I had no expactation for it but I think it might slither into my all time favourite things I’ve written. I won’t lie, I think I’m in love with this last chapter. I feel like it’s the part we really understand both characters and their motivations in relation to each other. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Edit: I realize I have kept this gender neutral! so I change it on the infos on the first part and this one

Parts 1-3 in Masterlist!

Pairing: Tim Drake x gender neutral reader

Word count: 3456

Warnings: language, mention of violence (non-graphic)

��... And this is why I have taken the decision to repeal the vigilante act. All measures taken by the city and GCPD to collaborate with vigilantes on the matters listed are to be repelled at this instant. We will no longer tolerate criminals telling us how to protect our city and all arrest mandates out for vigilantes are to be reactivated--”

Tim passed a hand in his face after Bruce turned off the TV. There was some serious tensions going on in the batcave, especially after this gruesome live tape of the mayor, visibly held hostage in some kind of basement, delivered the new order to cancel all the work they had achieved to at least stop the cops from trying to hunt them down instead of focusing on actual crime.

The first thing he had done once he came back to the cave was to research you in any database he could hack into. He started in the state registry, knowing you had told him you had been an orphan. He had no idea what was a lie and what wasn’t in what you had told him, but that was apparently true. The picture attached was a younger version of you, that was clear, but any update on your whereabouts stopped at age 11. Then, he tried to look for a driver’s license, passeport, any ID documents you could have. He also hit a dead end with that too, so he looked into less savory types of repertories.

He finally found you in the mercenary databases, with a clear, recent picture and your… Impressive record. As he scrolled down your list of confirmed hits, he felt his stomach sink further and further. Marco Rizzo, the philanthropist, the kidnapped mayor, and it went on and on. What truly put him on the floor, however, was to see your credentials. You were Falcone’s main gun and you had trained under various mentors including Slade Wilson, out of all people.

You were the real deal and he had let himself fall for you, hard.

He felt stupid now. Did you even know who he was at night? Had you gone to him to throw him off your scent? Even after discovering all of this about you, a part of him still hoped you had no clue. It would hurt less to know it was a coincidence you bumped into each other rather than a calculated move from you.

“So… Your date uh?”

Tim cringed when Bruce spoke up. It was even worse to hear it out loud.

“I don’t wanna hear it” He mumbled, keeping his eyes dead set on the wall. He knew he had acted irresponsibly, he knew he should have seen the signs sooner, he knew he should have remained alert and not let himself be charmed by you, or let himself be sidetracked from his mission. It was a rookie mistake.

“Talk about sleeping with the enemy” Damian snorted from behind them. Tim turned around, glaring at him. He was sitting in a computer chair, casually eating noodles with chopsticks and watching the exchange like it was a movie. Of course, the demon had spied on the conversation.

“Damian!”

“What?” He looked at Bruce, shrugging nonchalantly.

Bruce sighed, shaking his head. He returned his attention to Tim again. “What do you want to do now?”

Tim didn’t reply straight away. He was conflicted, angry, sad, disappointed; he had rarely felt such a cocktail of emotions like that. On one hand, he wanted to wallow in self pity. It seemed like the one thing left to do, as life finally sent someone he could see himself get with but made them the exact opposite of what he stood for. But he couldn’t, he had to put a stop to this madness. He had to confront you.

“We’ll need to set a trap” He finally spoke, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “A contract that can’t be refused, draw them out. I’ll take care of it, it’ll be better that way”

“Are you sure you’ll be up to it?”

“Yes” Tim snapped, and Bruce took a careful step back. “I won’t be fooled twice. I can do it”

“Alright, just making sure” Bruce wasn’t convinced, but he still trusted his son. He knew he'd do the right thing if push came to shove. “What did you have in mind?”

Tim took a deep breath. “50 millions for a bullet in Bruce Wayne’s head”

---

It was too good to be true, and your suspicions of foul play were confirmed when your eyes spotted the red and black sticking out of the grim portrait of Gotham’s roof tops.

You knew something was up when you were offered a 50 millions solo contract. You usually went out for 15 millions for high profile targets, but curiosity got the best of you. The only thought of potentially pocketing that much money was enough of a motivation for you to at least find out what was up. But now, it was clear it was a set up as Red Robin himself was waiting for you. It was too bad for the money, but the prospect of facing a real Gotham vigilante for the first time was exciting.

“I’ve beaten you twice already” You smirked. “You called me for a third?”

A scowl set on his masked face. “Trust me, there won’t be a third” He spoke up in a gravelling voice. “Either you come with me here and now, or we do this the hard way”

“Oh, now you’ve got me interested” You teased as you circled him. “Do tell me more about this hard way of yours”

He deployed his staff. Your eyebrows raised at his challenge. “You’re arrogant” He stated. He wasn’t wrong. “It’s gonna be your downfall”

“... Or not” You shrugged, not stopping your assessment of him. “Still waiting on the monologue detailing your plan to stop me, by the way”

“There isn’t one”

He lunged. He did it so quickly and smoothly you almost didn’t see him move. Your reflexes allowed you to roll out of the way just in time, and the way the staff collided with the cement told you it wouldn’t have been a long fight if that had hit its intended target: you. You looked at him and you regained your footing, reevaluating the situation. You were skilled, but you doubted it would be enough to go toes to toes with Red Robin, now that you had had a glimpse of what he could actually do.

You raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Catch me if you can”

Before he could process your world, you turned around and jumped off the building, landing on the roof a dozens of feet lower. You didn’t waste time taking off, knowing he would be right behind you. You ran across the rooftop and leaped off the ledge and above the alley to grab onto the fire exit on the next building over. You hurried to climb it, ending up on yet another rooftop. You ran alongside the pool and jumped over the tables, kicking them back to try and slow down Red Robin, who was little by little gaining on you. Fuck, he’s fast, you thought. You weren’t even tempting to look back, but you knew with the sound of his footsteps alone.

You hadn’t planned on him being able to follow you that easily, not even cursing behind you as you took another jump over a considerable gap between buildings. You were fast, faster than most. Making exits had always been your strong suit, whether it was on foot, by car or otherwise. However, the only times you had faced him were when you had a rocket launcher as a deterrent or when you were driving an actual race car. Now that the field was levelled, you didn’t have the advantage anymore. You knew you wouldn’t be able to outrun him if you kept going on that way, so you had to change your strategy.

You took a sharp turn to the left and grabbed a clothesline, pulling out a knife from your belt and severing in behind your grip. You took a good running start and let yourself fall on the building on the other side of the street, pausing to glance at Red Robin standing where you had just been seconds ago. He was trying to find another way to cross, but there was none and even he couldn’t make that jump. You gave him a wave and a wink before taking off again. However, on the corner of your eyes, you still could see him tracking you relentlessly, not letting you get away so easily.

You jumped over an alley, and instead of landing on the next roof, you aimed for the first balcony from the top. With your shoulder first and your head tucked in, you went straight through the sliding door window and rolled on the landing to smooth your fall. You glanced beside you at the terrified man in his underwear who was cowering on the couch and looked behind you, shrugging.

“Sorry for the mess” You didn’t wait until he replied to walk out the apartment. You jogged down the stairs, knowing Red Robin would have lost your trace now. Or so you thought.

You halted your steps when you noticed him waiting at the bottom of the staircase and leaning on the rail with a nonchalant expression, like it had been easy to predict you would come out that way. He returned the little sarcastic wave you had given him minutes earlier, making your face fall. You turned around and climbed back the steps back to the first floor, barging in and running across the hallway until you reached the window at the end. You took the time to open this one, seeing as he had not yet reached the floor. You slipped through it and climbed down the wall to land into the back alley. You were about to head for the streets when an already too familiar red and black figure blocked your way.

You took off in the opposite direction, well, until you came face to face with a brick wall. There was nothing to climb onto, no fire exit to use, no way to get away. You closed your eyes and cursed under your breath as footsteps reached you. He wasn’t in a hurry, his pace was tauntingly slow and confident he had you trapped. You recomposed yourself before turning around to face him.

“You forced me to make a mistake” You stated with a sigh. “Impressive”

“Told you” He said, taking a step toward you. “Arrogance did end up being your downfall”

“I don’t suppose we could have a rematch, uh?” You tried, smiling coyly. “That staff didn’t seem such a bad idea in hindsight”

“If you thought you could win then, you wouldn’t have dragged me into this pointless chase” He scoffed, and your eyebrows raised. He was right, but damn. “Unless you want a beating at that too”

“Ouch” You chuckled. “That really hurts my pride”

“Good” He smirked. “Now that you know you won’t get away from this one, just do the logical thing and surrender. There’s nowhere to go”

You held eye contact for a moment before slowly raising your hands. “Alright” You complied with a nod. “You earned that one”

He took careful steps toward you, alert to whatever quick move you would do. But you could recognize when you were beaten, so you didn’t plan any surprise move. Getting caught by a vigilante was an eventuality, even you knew you wouldn’t escape them forever. You just didn’t think it would have been this soon. He grabbed your wrists, and once he was sure he had you solidly enough, he twisted your arm behind you and pushed you rather roughly into the brick wall.

“Woah there champion” You coughed out in surprise. “I feel that spark between us, I really do, and I admit I am partially to blame for it, but I’m kinda seeing someone? And I’m really into him so if you could just. Stop manhandling me that way, that’d be great”

You felt him take a considerable step backward, and his grip on your arm dropped. You frowned, carefully turning around to face him. You didn’t understand why he had let you go, and his blush combined with his bewildered expression only made you more confused.

“Okay, what is going on, now?” You asked, not taking your eyes off him. It was like he was a completely different person now, and you couldn’t point out exactly why it was suddenly so familiar. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, jeez”

“I’m not” He defended too quickly, his voice wavering. Your eyes squinted even more as you took one step forward. He didn’t move, it was like he was frozen in place. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over for you”

“Uh” You took another step, and he squared up, trying to cover the fact he had totally lost his edge over you. You could have made a run for it, you knew it would have been ridiculously easy at that moment to evade him, but something held you back. You scrutinized him, your head tilting to the side. He gulped, and suddenly it all pieced together. That reaction to your flirting, you knew it all too well. Your eyes widened, before you gave him a sympathetic smile. “You know, while this mask does suit you, I prefer to see your eyes, handsome”

His muscles tensed for a second or two, but his shoulder sagged soon after. He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “How long have you known?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean, how long?” You asked. “Thirty five seconds ago”

“You didn’t know before?”

“Uh, no” You replied. “What does it matter?”

“You… You didn’t go on a date with me to distract me from your trail?”

“No, I went on a date with you because I like you?” You raised an eyebrow. “I would have been way more careful with my lies if I had known, fuck I was so obvious, no wonder you figured it out. Besides, I just told you I’m really into you--”

You were surprised by the sudden movement of his arm that sneaked behind your neck and brought you flush against his lips. Okay then. You returned the kiss without hesitation holding on to his shoulders under the sheer force he was applying against you. It was a lot different from the shy boy you had met at the racetrack, but then again, he was Red Robin right now, more so than Tim Drake. You could have never connected the two if it hadn’t been from your flirting from up close. Before you knew, he tore himself from you and jumped back like you were actual fire, cursing under his breath. You blinked slowly at his sudden absence from your immediate vicinity, then rolled your eyes. Dramatic much?

“What is it now?”

“You’re still a criminal” Now he refused to meet your eyes.

“Are you-- Is this because of what happened in the alley the other day?” You sighed, throwing your hands up before letting them fall back and slap on the side of your thighs. “I’m sorry, okay? I wouldn’t have ran you into the garbage pile if I had known it was you. And I wouldn’t have threatened you with a rocket launcher either-- Shit okay I see your point, I’m really sorry about that too”

“No!” He yelled. “I mean, yeah, kind of. But you kill people for a living, I can’t--”

“What does it change?” You asked. “You liked me before you found out. You were about to hand me to the police, I still like you! In fact, if you could ram me into the wall once again like you just did, I wouldn’t--”

“Please stop talking”

You grinned. “Does it turn you on?”

“Y-No” He replied, correcting himself last second. You raised a subjective eyebrow. “Stop that”

“Stop what?” You asked innocently. “I’m just saying it’s on the table. If I had known it was you when you did it, I would have enjoyed it so you’re welcome to do it again”

“Do you ever stop flirting?” He deadpanned. He crossed his arms against his chest, but it definitely didn’t have the intended effect. Instead, you just checked him out even more, since his muscles were very well defined in that suit. You liked it.

“With you? Not a chance, handsome”

And here came the blush again. He looked away and gulped, ignoring your self satisfied smile. You could do that all day and never get bored of it. Still, you regained a somewhat serious expression for the conversation that was inevitably coming.

“So now what?” You spoke up. “You give me to the cops? We pretend nothing happened between us? Because I’ll be honest with you, I don’t want that. I meant it when I said I liked you”

“My job is to stop crime, and the people who commit it” He began with a sigh. “I just can’t ignore the fact that you are one of the bad guy”

“That’s valid” You nodded slowly. “But this is just a job. I don’t do it for the power trip of taking people out, I do it because I’m good at it, and because I like the money that comes with it. Although, I’ll admit I do enjoy making dramatic exits from time to time--all the time”

Tim snorted. Of course you liked your exit, that had been obvious from the start. But even if he did not agree with your job, or with the lack of morals that came with it, he had to recognize the difference between you and the typical Gotham criminal. From what he had found out so far about you, you never caused casualties in any of your contracts. You always kept the mess to a minimum. You were a far cry from the Joker or Poison Ivy, for that matter.

Even if you couldn’t see his eyes clearly, you could just see the gears turning in his head. Would it be so bad if he let you go? What if he kept seeing you? He could agree with you on one thing: behind his reluctance because of your job, he really didn’t want to pretend nothing happened. He liked you a lot, and it absolutely frustrated him that the one god sent person he instantly clicked with was on the other side of his moral spectrum.

“Tell me” You said softly, bringing back his attention to you. “If you had never found out about my job, would you have asked me on a second date?”

“Yes” He didn’t hesitate in his answer. It was like you could read his mind, reminding him of how well you fit together. He wanted both to scream and to kiss you again.

You took a deep breath, letting him think some more. You could very much suspect the news of your activities was harder on him than his were on you, so you understood the need to let him a little space while he figured it all out. You had half expected him to go ahead with his initial plan though, so you prepared yourself mentally for him eventually binding your wrists and dragging you to the nearest precinct.

That’s probably why you were surprised when he took a step aside, no longer blocking you from leaving. You didn’t move, only stared at him.

“I won’t give you a free pass if I catch you doing shady stuff” He sighed, gesturing to the exit of the alley. “ But for this time, I guess I’ll see you next time you do something stupid”

“Not before?” You raised an eyebrow. The corner of his lips slightly lifted.

“Maybe before”

“Is that a yes on the second date?” You asked, hopeful. “7:30 next Friday at that lobster place you mentioned?”

“Will you be working that night?”

“I won’t!” You hurried to confirm. “I swear I won’t”

He let out a long sigh like he was reconsidering his entire life. “What the hell, sure”

“Great!” You grinned wide, stealing a quick kiss on his lips.

“Go, now” He ordered, gaining back his more authoritative vigilante voice. Oof, that was hot, you thought, but you kept it to yourself for once. “Before I change my mind”

“See you on Friday, handsome!”

He watched you run out of the alley, finding himself suddenly excited at the prospect of seeing you again, whether it would be as Red Robin or as himself on a date with you.

#tim drake x reader #tim drake x you #tim drake imagine #tim drake fic #red robin x reader

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random-imagines-blog · 4 years

Text

Dark Snow {Maria Hill x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2919 Summary: You’ve been acting really weird after getting back from an undercover mission at HYDRA. Notes: Takes place during The Winter Soldier; Character Death

Maria loved to go through your wardrobe. While in hers hung her SHIELD uniforms, neatly and organized of course, and one or two cocktail dresses for when she needs to be undercover, yours was a little more chaotic. You were an agent as well, but kept your dresser full of comfortable clothing, which is what you preferred to spend your time in. Over-sized sweaters, sweatpants, baggy jeans, vintage band t-shirts, you hadn’t changed your style much since you were a teenager. And there was the added bonus that everything smelt like the bodywash that you used on yourself each night when you showered. She’s been wearing your clothes a lot more lately, since you’ve been away on a mission. She hadn’t heard a word from you in over a month. Only Nick Fury’s word that you were reported as still alive was all she had for comfort.

As she curled up, watching something on Netflix that was going in one ear and out the other, she sniffed the sleeve of the sweater that she was wearing. It was yours from University, and had the name of it sprawled across the chest. She never thought she would wear this sweater, given that your schools were nemesis’s. In fact, it was at a school football game that you two had noticed one another. Sitting right across from one another, with the field between. You were wearing this very sweatshirt, rooting for your school’s team, being loud and proud about it. She had been dragged by a friend and wasn’t interested in what was going on at all. You caught eyes a couple of times throughout the game, and even ran into each other at the chip wagon when you both went to buy snacks. That was how everything started - over a cardboard container filled with fries.

You both ended up transferring to the Academy, which had been her idea at first. It had taken some convincing for you to apply, but you got in as soon as you did. She wasn’t ready to give you up. And a decade and a half later, she had no regrets about herself going to the Academy. But when you were off on a dangerous mission without being able to talk to anyone, she regretted getting you involved. She wouldn’t trade the years with you for anything, but she was greatly looking forward to when the both of you retired so she wouldn’t feel this worry anymore.

She was nearly falling asleep on the couch when there was a sound coming from the door of the apartment. With a smooth motion, Maria had the gun that she kept under the coffee table, holstered to the under side in case of emergencies. She clicked off the safety, and held it to her side. The door swung open, and she ducked down beside the couch, her head just poking over the top so she could see who it was that was approaching.

Once she saw that it was you, she put the safety back on and threw the gun onto the couch so she could run towards you with arms wide open. Her cheeks were flush with excitement, and before you could even brace yourself, she had embraced you in a tight hug. “I was so worried about you,” She said into your ear, breathing in, trying to get the familiar smell of you back on her. But you smelt different. Your body wash was still standing on the shower shelf, where it had been for the last month. You smelt like ... like nothing.

Even the hug that you returned, after getting your footing back, was lackluster. In vain, Maria tried to bring you in for a kiss, but you moved your head out of the way, avoiding her lips. “Give me a chance to put my bags down, at least,” You muttered. She slowly let go and you walked further into your residence, looking around. Maria hadn’t changed anything since you were last here, so she was a little confused at what you were looking at.

“I know you can’t tell me the details,” She said, using your rejection as an excuse to retreat into her work-like self. Straight and narrow. No room for emotions. You didn’t want to show her any affection, she would act like she had none left inside of her. “But can you at least tell me that you are okay? And if it was a success?”

“I’m fine, and it was a success,” You echoed. Maria clearly was not convinced, but said nothing more about it. You set your bags down next to the couch, and without another word, went into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. The sound of the shower starting up was heard over the sound effects from the movie that was still playing on the television.

Feeling dejected, Maria took off the sweatshirt that she was wearing, and tossed it into the laundry basket. She hoped that this was just you adjusting to being back home after being deeply undercover for Hydra for so long. But for now, she was very irritated and wanted nothing to do with your stupid sweater.

The next morning, nothing had changed. Nor did the next week. Or even the next few months. You still lived together, and you were pleasant enough, but there was no affection. You stayed up after Maria went to bed, and you were up and out by the time that she woke up. Only the rustled sheets gave any indication that you had come to the bed at all. She didn’t suspect an affair, which was the reason why most people stopped giving affection. Rather, she thought that something traumatizing had happened on your mission. You never spoke of it. Whenever she pestered you about it, you just told her that it was classified information, and she should know better than to go digging. After a little while, she gave up on asking you.

She attempted to get into the records, but they were sealed, which was very odd because she should have all of the clearance in the world given her position. But it locked her out when she tried. It even implemented a virus on the computer that she was using, and Stark had to be called in to help fix it. It felt shameful to even call him in, but at least you weren’t in the headquarters to notice.

She soon grew distracted, as it became obvious that Hydra had infiltrated SHIELD. There had been an attack on Nick. She had to lie to everyone that he was dead. She even had to lie to you, which was a very hard thing to do. It was something she vowed that she would never do, but she found herself doing it anyway. Something in the back of her mind was telling her not to trust you with such sensitive information. She hoped it was just because it would put a target on your back if you knew, not because she thought you might use the information in a bad way.

You were spending more time out of the house as all of this was going on. As there was a war against Captain America. As someone called The Winter Soldier had come out of nowhere and tried to attack him. It kept Maria extremely busy, but even she was home more than you were.

And she was terrified.

Alexander Pierce was not working with her, having named Nick Fury a fugitive. But Pierce had kept you on, and you were spending a lot of time with him lately. Every time that she saw you, you were by his side or leaving one of his meetings. Something was going on. Something that you weren’t telling her.

She lost her faith in you, slowly but surely, and you weren’t even around for her to confront you about it. It went beyond the relationship, now. It was about loyalties. It was about life and death. She had sworn her life to SHIELD. She would die defending it, if needed. She no longer knew where your loyalties lied.

Project Insight was taking off. Romanoff and Fury were against Pierce. Rogers and Wilson were replacing the chips in the Hellicarriers, but it wasn’t coming along quickly due to the Winter Soldier’s involvement. Maria was in the safehouse, ready to take control and force the vessels to turn against one another. She was waiting on just one more, the last of the carriers. Her fingers were at the ready, prepared to program.

A click shocked her out of it. She immediately reached for the gun in her holster, and pointed it at the sound. Standing behind her, with a gun aimed at her, was you. “What are you doing. Y/N?”

“I’m afraid that I have to stop you from interfering further, Maria,” You said, completely calm despite the circumstances. Maria thought that she was going nuts. She knew you were growing distant, but she never thought you would turn against SHIELD.

“Answer my question. What are you doing?” She repeated, her hands trembling.

“What’s best for the world,” You said, with no emotion showing in your face. “Hail Hydra.”

Somehow, you missed. You were excellent with a gun, Maria knew that much from going to target practice together. The bullet whizzed past her shoulder and embedded itself in the wall. She managed to duck away from it, but it wasn’t hard for her to do so, since it would have passed by her anyway. Though it was close enough that she could smell the metal of it.

“That was a warning,” You said, blinking a few times at her, but didn’t shoot again. She aimed her gun at your chest. “I don’t want to have to kill you, Maria.”

“You -” She breathed, hair hanging her face. “- you joined Hydra? When? Why?”

“Those aren’t the important questions that you should be asking,” You said, taking a step towards the computer. She blocked you, still holding the gun in front of her. “What you should be asking is, what will SHIELD have to offer you now? And the answer is nothing. Because there is no more SHIELD. But there is, and always will be, Hydra.”

“You need to leave,” Maria said, her face hardening. She had to remember that this was part of her mission. Whatever they said to get you on board with Hydra must have been good, but she would not fall for it. She knew the dangers of the underground organization, and would fight them until her last breath. “Because I will complete this mission, and I will kill you if that is what it means.”

“I don’t think that you have it in you,” You said with a smirk. “I’m offering you a new life, Maria. With me - things can go back to the way that they were. But we won’t be on opposite sides anymore. We can be united together, under Hydra. The winning side.”

She let out a shaky breath, but did not move the aim of her weapon. She started to shake her head vigorously.

“Maybe it isn’t too late for us,” Maria pleaded. It felt like you weren’t even looking at her, but through her. Like you were so focused on the computer, that it didn’t actually matter whether you two got together or not. She had never known you to be so singularly-minded, especially with her around. “Come back with me. Pierce might be bringing the headquarters down, but SHIELD will always prevail. We can rebuild it from the ground up. Whatever you had a problem with-”

“I’m done with talking. You’re either with me, or you’re against me, Maria. What’s it going to be?” You questioned, gazing still at the computer. She let out a sigh this time, feeling her heart breaking in two.

“Against,” She said, startling you with a high kick that nearly knocked the gun out of your hand. You fumbled with it, but by the time you got it under control in your palm, she had fired off two shots. One had grazed the side of your head, while the second had gone straight to your hand.

Grimacing, you held your bad hand to your head where blood was starting to spurt. Only once you realized that you weren’t actually touching the wound did you realize that three of your fingers, your index, middle and ring - the same one that had your wedding band on it, still attached to a stub, were gone. You brought your hand down in shock and the ring slid off, bouncing off the ground with a metallic ringing.

“Now!” Steve shouted, and Maria turned back to the computer and input the code that would turn the hellicarrier against itself and finally be destroyed. The mission was complete, but at a cost.

A sharp pain went through Maria’s hip as she started to turn to face you. Never turn your back on an enemy, that was SHIELD 101. But the main mission had been important enough for her to do so, and she was paying for it now with a bullet embedded in her bone. It still didn’t clue into her mind that it was you who had shot her, and she went straight into defensive mode. As she started to fall to the ground in pain, she let off another shot, this one going into your chest. You fell back onto the hard ground, and you didn’t get back up again.

Weary, Maria fell onto the floor, landing on her ass harshly. She leaned her head back against the desk that the computer systems were on, and pressed a hand to where you had shot her, putting pressure on the wound. Nick would be back soon, she had to tell herself.

She shuffled over to where you were lying. Your chest was still rising and falling, proving that you were alive, but the puddle of blood beneath your body didn’t look good. It was thick, and dark, nearly black rather than red.

“Why, y/n? Why would you turn against us?” Maria asked, looking at your hand. The discarded fingers lay a couple of feet away, shot clean off. If you survived this, you wouldn’t be able to shoot again. At least, not without a fancy prosthetic, and since you have been labeled a traitor, it seemed unlikely you would get one.

You coughed, blood coming out of your mouth. It wasn’t merely a shoulder shot. She had hit an artery. Despite the pain, you managed a smile, which made her heart started to beat faster.

“I’m so, so sorry,” You said, turning your head to try to look at her better. “I - Bucky -”

Maria’s fingers went to her mouth as you said the name. Bucky. Steve’s friend. The Winter Soldier. The name Dark Snow had come up as well in the records, before the virus was put in that locked Maria out. Everything was coming together.

“It wasn’t you, I know,” Maria said, moving some of the blood saturated hair out of your face. It was in large clumps due to the shot that had nicked your head, causing quite a bit of trauma to the skull. You were going to die, and Maria was half responsible. Hydra had the other half of the blame.

Taking some of the best soldiers and brainwashing them. It was brilliant. Horrific, but brilliant.

“I love you-” You said, snapping Maria back into the moment. She kept her hand on your cheek, comforting you as you passed from this world into the next. It was only a minute later that all of that light that she had loved so much disappeared from your sight, and you only had a blank stare left for the world.

When Steve, Sam, Natasha and Nick returned to the safe house, Maria was still in the same position. She was next to you, hand on your cooling cheek. She explained to them how she had come to the realization that you had been brain washed, like the Winter Soldier. Nick opened up about the mission that you had been on, though he himself only knew of a few details about it. Operation Dark Snow.

You were buried in a cemetery not too far from the football field where you two had met. Maria had you cremated, then your ashes interred into the ground, but not before she took a small amount of them, and had it wrapped in resin, which was then attached to a ring. She wore that ring every day, no matter if she was on a break, or if she was on a mission.

Knowing what HYDRA was capable of, and how they integrated themselves into high society like a parasite, did not bring fear into her heart. Instead, it bought anger. As long as she was working, she was pushing to make sure that no one else lost their love the way that she did.

She kept wearing your sweaters, curling up in them every night, feeling like they were a warm hug against the cold nights. Even the sweater of the opposing University.

#Maria Hill #Maria Hill x reader #Maria Hill oneshot #Marvel #Marvel oneshot #x reader #oneshot #one shot #request #mariah

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lotusss-flowerbomb · 4 years

Text

Dark Knight

Part 1

Bucky x reader

Warnings: violence, 18+

Word Count: 2,484

********

"Hey, slow down!" You yelled at the two children. Your four year old daughter and nephew continued running past you as if you hadn't said a word. You just shook your head and continued to prepare their lunch.

The doorbell rang and you wiped your hands confused as to who would be visiting unannounced. Then you rolled your eyes when you realized who it probably would be.

You looked out of the peephole and your suspicion was confirmed. You opened the door and stared at your child's father.

"Bucky, I thought I told you to call before you came over here?" You leaned against the door frame.

"I did. You didn't answer," he said back with just as much attitude as you were giving him.

You remembered leaving your phone in your bedroom on the charger.

"Jordyn, your dad is here," you yelled and turned away from the door. He followed you inside.

You and Bucky had a very emotional break up 7 months ago. He didn't really give you a reason, he just came home after a mission and told you that he'd be staying with Steve for a while.

After weeks of silence and then only coming by to see Jordyn and ignoring you, you finally gave up trying to talk to him.

After four months, your friends convinced you to go out on a date. Somehow, Bucky found out about it and after scaring the guy off, he started coming by the house unannounced and staying much later than he should.

"Dadddyyy!" Jordyn screamed as she and your nephew Braylon ran towards you.

"Hey, princess," he scooped her into his arms. "What's going on, Bray, you watching over the girls today?"

"Mmm hmm," the young boy nodded his head while giving Bucky a fist bump.

"Come on, daddy," the little girl squirmed out of his hold and grabbed his hand, "we're about to eat lunch." She started towards the kitchen.

"Go wash your hands, please," you said to them as you set their places at her kid's table.

You and Bucky didn't speak. He stood by quietly and made sure to stay out of your way. You'd catch him watching you, but he wouldn't look away. He didn't care that you knew.

Once the kids sat down to eat, you took a seat at the island with Bucky and grabbed a bag of chips.

"You know, you should really eat better."

"Says the human garbage disposal? Worry about yourself." You stuffed another chip in your mouth.

********

Bucky was playing outside with the kids. You watched out of the window as they took turns swinging from his arm. This is exactly how you pictured your life at one point.

He must have felt you watching. He looked up at you and smiled. You quickly looked away and stepped out of view. You shook your head willing yourself to snap out of it. It's never going to happen. He made his choice.

You heard the door open and Jordyn came running inside.

"Momma, momma!" She yelled excitedly.

"Yes, Jordy?"

"Can you come out and play tea party with us?"

"I'm sure your dad and Bray don't want to play tea party. Why don't you play something else?"

"But they're already at the table waiting. Daddy told me to invite you," she informed you.

You looked out of the door and sure enough, they were both sitting at the table on the deck in top hats. You couldn't help, but laugh. Big bad Bucky Barnes was sitting at a table playing tea party with his little girl and nephew.

You grabbed some cookies, a pitcher of sweet tea that was already in the fridge, because making some would leave the guys waiting too long, and your phone. You walked outside to Bucky and Bray speaking to one another with terrible British accents.

"What are you doing?" You giggled.

"We're having a tea party," Bucky said.

"But why do you need the accents?"

"Because we're — are you recording this?" He asked once he noticed your phone.

"Absolutely, I may need this for blackmail at a later date. You look so adorable in your wittle hat."

"No, stop," he grabbed at you, "delete it."

"Absolutely not," you laughed and ended the recording.

You sat down with them and poured tea while Jordy handed out cookies. As you all sat around and enjoyed your snacks, Jordy started telling Bucky about your weekend movie nights.

"Daddy, you should come this weekend, so Bray isn't the only boy. We're gonna watch the Alien Vs Predator."

"You let her watch stuff like that?" He raised a brow at you.

"Yes, she knows they aren't real," you shrugged.

"Yeah, daddy, not like the Chitari or anything. Besides, uncle Tony dusted them, right? Peter said they blipped away right before his eyes."

"Who's Peter?" Bray chimed in.

"Alright fine," Bucky jumped in before she could spill the beans. "I'll come. Is it okay if I come?" He turned to you.

"Pleeeaaaassseee, momma?" Your daughter looked to you with those big blue eyes just like her father's.

"Yeah, please, momma?" Bucky jumped in. They both batted their eyes at you. Bucky whispered something in her ear and then they smiled.

Damn it.

You were powerless when it came to those smiles. He knew it and so did she. You just shook your head and laughed.

"Fine," you bit.

"Yaaaayyy!" They celebrated their victory together.

"Wow, you got played, auntie," Braylon said to you.

"Big time, kid."

********

You were preparing snacks when you heard the doorbell. You told the kids to go and open it since you knew it was Bucky.

"Hey, need me to help with anything?" He offers once inside.

"Um, if you could just get the kids in their pj's and grab their blankets, that'll be great. Jordy likes to sit on the right side of the couch and it's Bray's turn to have the remote."

"Got it," he turned to complete the task you'd given him.

While he handled the kids, you set their snacks up on the middle cushion. Bucky came down the stairs holding a kid under each arm like a sack of potatoes.

You opened the blu-ray and put the movie in, but left it open, so Braylon could close it. They enjoyed controlling the TV on movie night. Jordyn snuggled down on her side with her favorite Bucky blanket and Braylon did the same with his Sam Wilson blanket.

"Bray, I can't believe Sam is your favorite superhero, he's not even cooler than me," Bucky rolled his eyes.

"He can fly. Can you fly uncle Bucky?" He asked.

"I see how it is."

"You're still cool, daddy," Jordyn whispered.

"Thank you," Bucky kissed her forehead.

"Alright, are we ready kids... And Bucky?" You said as you took your normal place on the love seat, tucking your feet beneath you making sure to leave room for Bucky.

********

Midway through the movie you looked over to see both kids drifting off to sleep. You stretched your legs out and put them on Bucky's lap. He took that opportunity to switch his position and lie his head in your lap.

"What are you doing?" You froze.

"I'm getting comfortable," he replied nonchalantly.

You tried to keep your breathing even, but your heart rate increased anyway. You knew he could hear it, but he kept watching the movie. You wanted to run your fingers through his hair the way you used to. Just when you were about to cave, your phone started vibrating.

You picked it up to see that you had a text from someone you'd recently met. You responded and held the phone waiting for him to text again.

After a few messages back and forth, Bucky finally asked, "Who's texting you?"

"Um, none of your business." You sent your last message and put the phone on the table.

When another notification came through, you felt his body tense up.

"Can you grab a kid and help me put them to bed?"

"You can go ahead and get yourself ready for bed. I've got them," he moved off of you and grabbed Braylon first.

You scooped up your phone and followed behind him. You texted the mystery man back, put the phone on your dresser and went into the bathroom.

Once you came out of the bathroom, you heard Bucky talking to Jordyn. You tip toed to the door to watch them.

"But daddy, can you stay? I know you can't sleep in mommy's bed, but you can stay in mine." You heard her sleepy little voice. It brought tears to your eyes. You never wanted this for her. Sometimes, she understood that mommy and daddy didn't live together and other times, she just didn't want to accept it.

"No, princess, your bed is too small for me. I'll stay with you for a little while," he said and smushed his large body in the bed with her. The sight would've been hilarious had you not been feeling emotional. You walked away and back down to the kitchen for a glass of wine.

By the time you finished your second glass, Bucky still hadn't come down. You were tipsy and tired of waiting, so you went back upstairs, but when you peeked in on the kids, Bucky was gone. You were confused until you saw a bright white light coming from your dark room.

"What are you doing?" You walked up to him and snatched your phone from his hands. You saw that he'd been looking through all of your text messages.

"How long have you known that Andrew guy? Where did you meet him?" He fired off.

"You have no right to ask me those questions and you have no right to invade my damn privacy! How did you unlock my phone anyway?"

"I do have a right if you're going to be bringing these men around my child."

"Bucky, get the fuck out of my house," you said fed up.

"This is my house." He walked towards you and wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you closer once he finally reached you. "And if I ever catch any of those men here, it won't end well for them, so be careful," he said in your ear and then placed a soft kiss on your neck.

"You forfeited your place in this house when you decided to leave," you pushed him away, "now get out."

"Okay," he put his hands up in surrender.

He turned to leave and you waited until you heard his car start before setting the alarm. You paced back and forth. How dare he go through your phone? Who the fuck does he think he is threatening a man you hadn't even been on a date with yet? Then he had the absolute audacity to kiss you??

"And you," you pointed to your wet pussy, "you're a fucking traitor. One little tiny kiss and you're weak for him? No!"

You grabbed your phone and texted Andrew to meet you for coffee soon. He agreed and you both said goodnight.

********

You'd dropped the kids off over your sister's house. She wanted Braylon to come home for a few days and of course Jordyn packed her bag and tagged along. You went by the coffee shop to meet Andrew after. Seeing him again started out nice, but then he asked a few odd questions that put you off and you started looking for reasons to leave.

A few days had gone by and you'd stopped answering calls from him and would keep replies in texts short.

Today, you were taking the trash out when you heard a familiar voice call your name.

"Andrew??"

"Hey, you, uh, you live here?" He asked.

"Yeah, what are you doing here?" You looked around.

"Oh, I have a friend who lives just up the road and I was headed home when I saw you come out," he explained.

"Oh, I see... Well, I'm —"

"How are you?" He cut you off, "I haven't heard much from you since we met up last."

"I've just been busy with some stuff is all," you lied.

There was an awkward silence that surrounded you for a moment.

"Can I come inside? Maybe we can sit and chat for a while," he suggested.

"No, I don't think so. I barely know you, Andrew." You stepped up on to the porch and opened the door. When you turned to say goodbye, he was right behind you.

"Just give me a chance," he pressed.

"Back up," you sounded stern, but your heart was racing.

He took a small step back, but he was still way too close for comfort.

"Who were you visiting?" You asked.

"Excuse me?" He was confused.

"You said you saw me, because you were leaving a friend's house. Who is your friend?" You were now visibly shaken. His lack of an answer told you everything you needed to know. You knew there was something off about him a few days ago.

You tried to run into the house and shut the door, but he was too close. He ran in behind you and grabbed your top. You picked up a lamp from one of the side tables and smashed it over his head.

"Ah!" He yelled, "you crazy fucking bitch!"

He pushed you into a wall. Your back hit so hard that it knocked the wind out of you. You hit the floor gasping for air. Your brain kept telling you to scream, but nothing was coming from your mouth.

He grabbed you up by your hair and forced you to look at him.

"Was that really necessary?" He spoke through clenched teeth.

You could feel the tears stinging your eyes, but you blinked rapidly to keep them from falling. You would never let this psycho see you cry.

Of all the days for Bucky to not randomly stop by, you thought to yourself.

Bucky. Your eyes widened at the thought of him.

"FRIDAY, call Bucky!!" You yelled quickly.

That made Andrew pause and gave you an opportunity to strike. You punched him in the stomach hard enough for him to buckle and he let you go. You smashed your knee into his face as hard as you could. The crunch sound from his nose breaking was far more satisfying than it should have been.

"Leave now and you might get to live," you warned him.

"I'll take my chances," he charged at you.

He threw you to the floor on the pile of glass from the lamp. You felt a piece tear through the skin on your upper arm. For the first time you were able to scream.

"Don't scream now, I tried being nice to you, but you wanna be a bitch and force my hand," he said just before wrapping his hands around your throat.

#bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky x you #Smut #marvel smut #marvel fanfic #Avengers #avengers fic #Lotusss Writes

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