#mcu x y/n
+ pairing: peter x f! reader
+ cw: mirror sex, belly bulging, cervix kissing, creampie, slight cum eating, dacryphilia, praising, very vocal peter, fluff at the end (?)
+ a/n: idk this has been on my mind for a minute...not proofread lol
just thinking about peter and you moving into your new little cozy apartment uptown new york, and how he fucks you in front of a mirror that was gifted to the both of you by a friend.
it’s tall and wide, with ornate brassy golden trimming, and hangs charmingly at the head of your mahogany bed.
you’ve been at it for hours, trying to gather your wits as you come down from your umpteenth orgasm of the night. peter’s curiosity and boyish excitement was rather hard to avoid, you’d fallen victim to it many times before, and tonight had been no different.
“so pretty like this,” the brunet cooed, “takin’ me so well.” it was always a sight to behold whenever he’d first slip in. you were always so tight, so wet—so inviting, letting him inch his cock in until it reached the hilt.
“you see that? that’s me right there.” Your abdomen clenches the second his calloused palm presses down into it, and you swear for a second that his eyes glaze over in this darkness—this lust, as if feeling himself so deep inside of you turned a gear in his head. grabbing your hand, he pulls it down to the bulge that stops just above your navel, his slow strokes unrelenting.
“want you to feel it too. want you to tell me how good i feel inside,” he syncopates each thrust with his words, honey brown eyes never leaving yours. with your hand pressing down onto your stomach, you could feel all of him. it felt strange, feeling him so deep, but the more he rutted into your gummy cunt, the more your head started to fog, and the more your feet started to curl into pretty crescents.
“feels so good,” you whimper, “so, so, so good.” the admission makes his cock twitch a few times, and he just about splits you open the moment it leaves your saccharine lips. his once slow, impassioned strokes, had soon turned into forceful ones. in and out, he’d watch as his length disappears into your puffy folds, only to reappear a moments later.
barely using any strength, peter flips you over on your stomach, maneuvering your upper body to lay flat against the bed while he pushes your hips up to meet his aching cock. tantalizingly slow, he prods your puffy little folds, then unceremoniously pushes past your entrance, a single tear cascading down your cheek from the intrusion.
although it hurt, there was no denying how incredibly full he made you feel in this position. it was as if you were molded for him—molded to take him, and only him. he gives you no time to adjust, opting to grip you up by the arms to unmercilessly plunge into you, marveling in the way your head bops wildly from the pace. the second your head droops forward, his right hand finds solace on your chin. the boy mumbles a ‘nuh-uh’ before he repositions your head to look forward, his thick fingers slithering down to your lips so that he can pry them apart.
“look at you—fuck—so beautiful,” he breathes, “you like it, huh? like looking at yourself while i fuck this pretty pussy?” a strangled moan vacates from your throat upon hearing the vulgarity of his words. you wanted to properly answer him but you were finding it difficult to do so, babbling incoherences, followed by a string of profanities and whimpers. all you could do was suck on his fingers, thoughts full of nothing but his melodic groans and pants.
seeing peter’s face in the mirror contort and twist into pleasure sent goosebumps up your arms. knowing that he was just as fucked out as you were, made something in your stomach bubble with arousal. he just looked so pretty like this, with his head thrown back, wisps of hair kissing his damp forehead…you were intoxicated.
“feel you clenching ‘round me, you gonna come again, pretty girl?”the knot wounding up so tightly in your abdomen was on the brink of unraveling, and with his ceaseless thrusts, you were only falling further and further into the depths of euphoria. removing his fingers from your mouth, you released them with a wet pop, watching the string of saliva that connected from your lips to his fingers wither away.
you tense as his left hand releases you, scared that you’ll fall forward, but he quickly wraps it around your front, pulling your back taut against his chest. the hand still wet with your saliva travels south to your clit, his lithe digits circling your nub diligently, building up a steady pace.
“‘m so close, please, please…” your voice crescendos into a hushed whisper, “want you to fill me up.” peter’s hold around your front tightens, and he can’t help but to shower you with kisses as he vigorously ruts into you from behind, his fingers on your clit moving at a maddening pace.
“then come, baby. give me one more, you’re doing so good,” he assures. the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes had begun to stream in steady droplets, collecting under your chin until they fell to your already dampened pillow. his sweet words were enough to send you over the edge, you’d come under his instruction, releasing the most pornographic moan he’d ever heard from you.
after witnessing such an intense display of pleasure, it wouldn’t take him too long to meet you there. his hips were faltering, growing sloppier by the minute, and seeing you lay like a pretty, little doll against him only encouraged him more. pleas of ‘good girl’ and ‘i’m coming’ were just a few of the admittances pouring from his lips, the rest falling upon deaf ears as your fatigued body lays there and takes everything he has to offer. with a final thrust, and a few short whimpers later, he cums deep into your swollen cunt, cursing to himself as your walls flutter intermittently around him.
“g-god, you’re too much,” peter mutters breathlessly, jettisoning the last of his cum into your pussy. the two of you flop over on the bed, chests rising and falling asynchronously until they begin to regulate. when he unsheathes himself, you don’t miss the faint pink that plasters across his face, his lips upturning into a shy smile. no matter how many times he fucked you, he’d always stare in awe at the state of your post-sex body, like he’d suddenly forgotten the way he treated you like a rag doll prior.
with your legs spread apart, he observes with wide eyes as your still fluttering hole pushes out his thick seed. the brunet’s eyes meet your own before he extends a finger to push it back inside, removing it in the same motion, raising it to your awaiting lips. you take it obligingly, sucking on it with a hum, and release it with a satisfied smile.
“i always love when you do that,” he confesses, lowering his head down to until your lips are leveled with his.
you lean into him, drawing back a little to speak, “yeah, you like when i do a lot of things,” your voice is teasing. closing the distance between you, you place a chaste kiss on his lips. it’s gentle and sweet, and peter finds himself smiling into it, whispering a playful ‘shut up’ as he pulls you into his chest.
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Summary: Bucky gets a call from his good friend, reader, during a therapy session. I’m sorry for such a shit summary, but you know, it’s cute. (part two)
Warning(s): Fluff, underlying feelings but no we cover that with ‘we’re friends lololol’, therapy is important lads, tfatws!bucky, domestic vibes
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader
Characters: Bucky Barnes, Dr. Christina Raynor, Sam Wilson (mentioned)
Word count: 1.2k
"So, how are things?"
Bucky looked up from his fidgeting hands, a finger trailing over his gloved palm. Christina sat in her seat, waiting as her pen tapped against the notebook patiently.
"Things are fine. No nightmares, no freak-outs, no Hydra," Bucky replied reluctantly.
She nodded. "And your, uh, personal relationships? That is an important part about returning to civilisation, James," She mentioned. "What about Sam Wilson? Returned his calls?"
Bucky sighed, hesitating to answer considering it was clear she seemed to already know the answer. "My personal relationships are fine. And I'm not interested in Sam's calls. They're the same questions every time,"
"Well, he worries about you," She pointed out. "Good reason, I guess. He did become a global fugitive for you, alongside Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff,"
"Thanks for the reminder, doc, but two out of three of them are gone," He said coldly.
Christina raised her brows, surprised by his bluntness as she took down a few notes.
"Oh, come on, you know I hate that thing," Bucky protested, rolling his eyes.
She ignored him and continued to write. He clenched his jaw, shaking his head. Suddenly, his phone started to ring in his pocket.
"I thought I told you to turn that thing off before you came in, James," She reminded, motioning her pen to the vibrating device in his jacket.
"And I told you, I don't know how," Bucky grumbled, taking out his phone, expecting to see Sam's contact.
"Who is it? Is it Sam?" She wondered.
Bucky paused for a moment. "No, it's uh... it's a friend,"
"You have other friends?" She said sarcastically. "Alright. Answer it, come on, put him on speaker,"
"Seriously? I'll just send her a text-" Bucky began.
"-Her?" She interrupted with a curious smile. "I don't know a 'her'. Who is this 'her'?"
Bucky glared at the woman who either gave two shits about him or was more invested in his life than a midwife watching reality shows. "A friend."
The phone was still ringing, your contact bright on his screen, an image of you appearing beside your name as his thumb hovered over the green button.
"Speakerphone now, Barnes," She directed.
"Whatever you say, doc," He muttered and did as she said, answering it and pressing the speaker button.
Right away, a crackly and rustling noise was coming from the other end as Bucky set his phone on the coffee table in front of him, volume loud as the two of them listened.
"...Hello?" Bucky said, confused by the sound.
A few seconds of the strange noise continued. "Hey, Buck," You responded.
His lips tugged a little at the sound of your voice, threatening a smile. He missed Christina's prying eyes, flickering from the phone to Bucky. "Hi,"
"What are you doing?" You questioned.
Bucky licked his lips, hesitating. "Uh, nothing. You?"
"Nothing. I just got off the subway and I'm heading home, so..." You replied, sighing.
He heard the sound of trains and people chattering nearby. "Why'd you call, doll?"
"I uh, I wanted to..." You trailed off, wavering with nerves.
"I'm glad you called," Bucky stated, leaning forward on the couch to get closer to the receiver.
Christina subtly wrote down a few entries at the interaction.
"Yeah?" You spoke up over the crowds.
"Yeah," He assured, hearing the smile on your face.
"And why's that?"
Bucky clicked his tongue and sighed, glancing up to the therapist sitting across from him. "Because maybe you can explain what this crazy woman is talking about and tell her to just let me go home,"
Christina rolled her eyes at that, unamused.
"Ah, the therapist," You recalled, chuckling a little.
"Mhm," He hummed. "This is your fault and you will pay. You're the only reason I still go this crap," He stated.
"I promise - commit to it one more time," You encouraged. "And if it is still awful for you, I'll make it up to you,"
"Yep," You chirped.
Bucky nodded, smirking at that. "Alright. Okay, I'm gonna hold you to that, Y/N,"
"I wouldn't expect anything else, Sergeant Barnes," You said, your tone joking. "How are you feeling?"
"Other than pissed off that you're walking home alone, I'm okay," He answered.
"I can take care of myself just fine. You know me, I kick ass and take names," You claimed. "Well, alright, if you consider pepper spray kicking ass and taking names,"
Bucky chuckled. "I thought you told me you were gonna start taking something stronger than an aerosol container, doll,"
"But it's so cute, Buck, it's got kittens on it. Kittens. What am I supposed to do? And it glows in the dark. Practical and cute," You argued. "You could teach me how to do that cool knife-flip thing if you really wanted,"
"Fair enough," He conceded. "How about you? You feeling alright today?"
"Yeah. Just... thinking about you," You admitted.
"What a coincidence. I was just thinking about you too... so you can save me from this hell," He said.
You laughed a little at that, making him feel familiar butterflies at the sound. "Come on, it can't be that bad,"
Bucky glanced to Christina who was observing with a small grin, quite entertained by the sight, despite being insulted. "It's bad,"
"Come by tonight, we'll order some take-out like usual and watch Golden Girls," You suggested.
"Sound like a plan,"
"Great. Awesome. Uh, could you also do me a favour? Just while you're in the neighbourhood," You asked.
"Anything," He answered without hesitation.
"Just pick up a carton of milk, if that's okay. Sorry, usually I'd do my own shopping but I'm-"
"-Don't worry about it. Let me know if you need anything else,"
"You're the greatest neighbour a girl could ask for, you know," You remarked.
Bucky smiled. "I could say the same for you, doll,"
There was more rustling on the other end, a moment of quiet passed, Christina's pen against the paper filling the silence. "Um, I'll-I'll let you go. Believe it or not, therapy is important. So just give it a chance,"
"I know, I will. For you," He comforted.
"You're such a softie," You giggled. "Alright. Bye, Bucky,"
"Bye. I'll see you soon,"
Bucky heard you hang up, his phone reverting to his lock screen as he looked up at Christina who was nodding.
"Y/N. That's her name? Tell me about her," She wondered curiously. "You've never mentioned a neighbour you eat dinner with. And I'm assuming she knows your past too, that's a big step, Barnes,"
His face immediately dropped at how she would use this to dig deeper into Bucky's wellbeing. "She's my friend,"
"Friend. How do you define that? Buying groceries, pet names, teasing,"
"I define it by friendly banter and healthy connection," He excused. "Shouldn't you be congratulating me, or something?"
"You want praise for one of the most essential human things?" She reiterated. "We need relationships, we need attachments. But I got to say, good job. She sounds like a great girl,"
"She is. She's great," He said.
"And it's just friends, then? Nothing more, perhaps?" She wondered, her tone suggestive. "I don't think we've ever talked about romance. Or your sexual activity-"
"-Alright, you know, that isn't your business, frankly," Bucky quickly interrupted, shaking his head. "No, just- It's not like that. We're neighbours, we're friends, we're... good friends and that's it. Can we get back to the usual routine?"
She eyed him skeptically before nodding. "Alright, fine. But I will be bringing her up again in future sessions, which I know you'll be present for because she seems to really care about your mental health. Unlike you,"
Bucky rolled his eyes at that.
PART TWO (both can be read as a stand alone!)
A/N: Inspired by Gilmore Girls, ten points to anybody who can recognise it lmao okay, um, this isn’t anything special. I thought it was a cute little thing because I haven’t written a lot of fluff for Bucky which is crazy because I love this man so much <3 Also, this is based a little before TFATWS if that wasn’t obvious idk that’s how I pictured it. And... I think that’s it. Send requests, leave feedback, let me know if you’d want a little more to this, maybe a friends-to-lovers kind of thing? :) x
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Practice Makes Perfect
Summary: Bucky's having trouble in the dating department after such a long time. As a friend, you decide to give him a hand and show him what a good date looks like. Y'know, for teaching purposes.
A/N: Here's a oneshot for those who don't follow the blog for the connected story. This one is post-TFaTWS btw!
"What's with the long face?"
Bucky comes into the common room glum as always and without once looking up when he answers your question. Instead, he goes straight for the liquor cabinet and pours himself a glass of whiskey. You and Sam share a long glance knowing full well how much of a bullshit answer that is.
"You ain't brooding for nothing." The pointed glare Sam gets is enough to get a chortle out of you. He exchanges the boring conversation for downing the glass faster than a glass of water instead.
"Sam's right," you say, hiding behind the couch in case he thinks of shooting that glare your way. "You look like you got dumped or something."
Time freezes for a very long second as your words fill the room and linger.
Bucky glares at you this time, nostrils flaring a bit as he serves himself another glass and downs it. Then nothing but silence. But his silence and what you see in those steel-blue eyes is enough to give it away.
Almost instantly, your jaw drops.
"Seriously?" Sam's just as baffled but the small smirk he shows makes it clear that he finds your mutual friend's inability to nail a solid date more than a little amusing. "Was it the redhead?"
"I'm not talking about it," Bucky immediately puts out there, grabbing the glass decanter by its neck intent on taking it with him.
"No, it can't be." You smack Sam on the shoulder to get his attention. "The redhead was last month. He was going out with the brunette, remember? The one with the pretty eyes?"
Sam snaps his fingers, lightbulb practically lighting up above his head. "Oh yeah. The one with the weird obsession with Billy Joel!"
"Hey! Billy Joel's an icon. Don't stain his legacy because some girl took it to another level," you retort.
"If you guys are done..." Shutting up, you and Sam eye the grumpy grampa that's staring you both down as you went down the list of his past suitors. "I'll be in my room. Don't bother me."
"You got it," Sam responds with a chuckle.
As you watch him leave, however, something about how he's so dejected bothers you. Things like these have bothered him before but never to this level. He'll usually yap away after some prodding from you two but that he's so reserved after this one leaves a bad taste in your mouth.
"Whatever you're thinking of doing, don't."
Sam's quick to interject when he sees you pondering. You're never this quiet. And when you are, it's mostly never good. You haven't known Sam for as long as you have Bucky but he's turned out to be a great friend to the both of you. Especially after all this Flag Smasher's business. And with him as the new Captain America, you've had your hands full helping him out where you can. Now that Bucky's getting a better hang of his past and wants to move forward, your work's only doubled.
Sadly you may have neglected one more than the other. And Grandpop Buck over here looks like he needs some serious help now.
"There's no guns involved, promise." You point out as you climb over the back of the couch and saunter over in the direction of Bucky's room. "Or violence. So you've got nothing to worry about."
"That it's you doing whatever you're doing is what worries me."
"C'mon, I'm just gonna go cheer grandpop up."
Sam shakes his head. "Not a good idea."
"You know why."
Your lips purse instantly. Yeah, you do know. Sam knows, too. And apparently, the only one that doesn't know about how you feel is the person in question. But that's not here nor there. You made peace with your one-sided love a long time ago. Bucky needed to deal with his past his own way and you respected that. He wanted to integrate back into somewhat normal life and you respected that. All of those things, you let pass as they should, as he saw fit, even when they didn't involve you.
Wringing your thumbs as a distraction, you breathe out a nervous chuckle back at him.
"That's in the past, Sam. All I wanna do is help a friend out."
It's clear Sam doesn't believe you, but he trusts you enough to do the right thing. So he dismisses you with a wave of his hand and a weary grimace.
With that, you skip away towards grumpy ole grandpa's room and knock a couple of times before opening the door. He doesn't seem mad that you came in uninvited; you both have long gone past the point where you know how the other is. And while Bucky sticks to himself more often than not, you're the bubbly ray of sunshine that bursts in uninvited when you least expect it.
"I thought I made myself clear."
Okay, maybe he's a tiny bit mad.
"You did," you say cautiously as you close the door quietly behind you. He's on his chair near the window basking in the sunlight that comes through, glass in one hand and decanter in the other. Seeing the bed free, you walk up to it and sit cross-legged upon the disturbed comforter.
"But it really sounded like you needed some company."
"What about 'don't bother me' could've possibly given you that idea?"
"It wasn't exactly what you said."
You grimace at how cheesy that sounded. At least it isn't as corny as the real reason as to why you felt like he needed company. What he felt often went unsaid unless heavily prodded. You had learned over time that when Bucky's feeling down, he won't say much if anything at all, but one will be able to see it quite easily if they know where to look for it.
And those steel-blue eyes are the biggest snitch you've ever seen.
Bucky huffs, clearly not buying your shtick but it's not really something you need him to buy. It's the truth—your truth—and there's nothing that can deter you from it. Regrettably, he doesn't seem to see it that way.
"I'm not in the mood for your pep talks," he instantly retorts, taking a long swig of the decanter and forgetting the glass altogether.
Instantly, you shut your mouth at his words. He's really in a sour mood. Anybody would be with the kind of record he's had with girls. Quite a wringer when his past record was that of a lady killer. Then again that was shy of 70 years ago and, well, things changed.
Not to mention that so has he.
"You know, maybe you just need a crash course."
Bucky heaves the longest sigh you've heard today, his fingers massaging the bridge of his nose as he exhales through it with eyes scrunched tightly closed.
"No, wait. Hear me out, Buck. Maybe the whole losing streak you've been on isn't so much a 'you' thing as it is an 'it's-no-longer-the-40s' thing. Lots of things have changed since our time."
He scoffs and speaks before taking another swig. "No kidding."
Tired of his self-deprecation, you jump off of his bed and snatch the glass decanter from his metal hand. Frowning down at him doesn't do much even when you try mimicking that sourpuss scowl of his. It doesn't even faze him. Instead, all Bucky does is lean forward in an attempt to retrieve the stolen bottle but you're steadfast at keeping it out of arms reach unless he gets up. Something you're also keeping him from doing by pushing him down onto his chair with your other hand.
"Now, listen to me here, Barnes. Enough of this pity party. If you want to get out there and find someone, you're gonna have to put in the effort."
"Don't you think I do?" he points out, furious.
"I'm not talking about using what you did 70 years ago, buddy. I'm talking about learning a new set of skills and using them."
"Oh, yeah?" His voice rose a bit, obviously incredulous about what you're insinuating. "And who's going to teach me? You?"
It's incredible how quickly his brow rises with utter disbelief and even more so how he lets out a quick laugh. One that dies within the second when he sees you're not backing off.
“Do you trust me?” you ask.
"What's that gotta do with this?" he fires back.
Getting annoyed fast, you slap his arm to get him back on the topic. "Answer the question."
His brow scrunched down, eyes narrow on the arm you just hit, before turning to you. You refuse to back down though and instead play his game, staring him down without blinking. It takes a whole thirty seconds before you've got him rolling his eyes and shaking his head out of frustration. Seeing him backing down, you ask again.
"Do you trust me?"
“You know I do.”
Your expression takes a full 180 turn at that as you smile brightly at him with a playful glint in your eye. “Then you can trust me to take you on the best practice date you'll ever have.”
"Practice—no. Absolutely not."
"C'mon, Bucky!" You stomp your foot down wanting to make a point that seems to be getting away from him. "I've been out here longer than you have. I've gotten used to being out here and I've gotten myself a date or two."
He shakes his head while wagging his finger back at you. "One-night stands don't count."
"I've had more than just one-night stands, thank you very much." Waving dismissively back at him, you pout, "And don't change the subject. The point is, I know what I'm doing. I know what girls want nowadays. And with a quick faux outing, I can let you in on all the juicy little secrets that'll have any girl wrapped around your finger."
"Just because I trust you with my back in a fight, it doesn't mean I trust you with giving me dating advice!"
"Just this once, Bucky! I'm asking you to trust me this once on this specific thing. Can you give me the benefit of the doubt? For the sake of our friendship."
Bucky immediately scowls back at you when you say that. "Don't you play that card with me."
"Then give this a chance. And if it doesn't work..." With a quick glance at the decanter in your hands, you purse your lips before passing it back. "You can drown yourself in liquor even when we both know it does jack shit to either of us, and I'll drop the subject for good."
You're selling a hot bargain with that last chip and you both know it. It's obvious by the way his steel-blue eyes focus on the decanter you flaunt in front of him that he's at least taking the time to consider it.
Maybe for half a second but it's still better than outright being rejected.
And then another full second afterward is when he groans into his hand before snatching the decanter from your small grip.
"Fine, but when this doesn't work you leave me alone, got it?"
"Yes!" Spinning on your heels, you skip away to the door and grin back at him. "I promise you won't regret it! I'm gonna teach you all you'll need and you're gonna have the ladies flocking to you in no time!"
Slamming the door behind you, you're making your way to your room when you run into Sam in the hallway.
"How'd it go?" he asks as he passes you, drink of his own in hand as he heads to his room.
"I have a date with Bucky!"
The spit-take is instant. Thank god your reflexes are fast. Forgetting about something, you run back to Bucky's room and open the door without knocking to only poke your head in.
"Meet me at the pier in two hours, okay?"
"We're doing this right now?" he shouts back.
"Of course, we are!" you reciprocate, leaving just as quickly as you came.
Skipping through the hallway once more, you're confused to find Sam choking still and come behind him to pat his back.
"Don't croak on me, old man."
"You—don't—no!" He's slapping away at you, a rather hilarious thing when he's obviously still baffled with what you dropped at him. "What do you mean date!?"
"Oh, did I say date?" you ask with a mischievous glint in your eye and a half-grin that belies your innocent tone. "I meant practice date. I'm gonna teach grampa how to get the ladies tonight!"
Gleefully, you smack the back of Sam's back a little too forcefully and have him hacking up a storm yet again. Grimacing, you chuckle nervously back at him and with a quick 'sorry' and scurry out of the hallway into your room.
Eagerly, you take full advantage of the two hours you gave yourself to get ready and scour every inch of your wardrobe. This is much too exhilarating to not go full out and you fully intend on making this the best practice date Bucky will ever wish for.
Two hours later, you found yourself waiting by the entrance of the nearby pier just as the sun began setting along the horizon. Decked out in your best summer dress, you stand around watching all types of people passing you by and heading towards the same place you plan on visiting.
Bucky wasn't the kind of guy to leave you waiting long, thank god, and you turn to him giddily while balancing on the small heels of your sandals when he calls out to you. Fake date or not, at least he came which is already a win in your book.
"Punctual as always, sergeant," you cajole as you turn to point out towards the pier where the crowd had been going. "Shall we?"
"This is your idea of a good date?" he asks with a mocking scoff.
Pouting, you smack his arm, hurting yourself a bit in the process when it's the metal one that you hit by accident.
"Fairgrounds and amusement parks are always a safe bet for a first date, soldier. Big crowds make someone feel less intimidated when out as a pair."
"I'd believe that if I didn't know you've been wanting to come here since it opened a couple of weeks ago."
You clear your throat along with the suspicion he has and instead grab him by the arm to drag him along. Bucky's reluctant at first saying you're a handful when excited and need to calm down a bit, but it's not something you can control at this point.
After some walking around and much sightseeing, you end at the fair games where a bunch of kids and teens are going around spending their parents' money to attempt unwinnable games.
It's then however that you suddenly force Bucky to stop in his tracks and drag him along to a game yourself. It's one of those usually rigged ones with the milk bottles stacked into a pyramid. But that's not what caught your attention.
The massive stuffed otter that's half your size did.
"Five bucks, ladies and gents! 5 bucks for two balls! Topple the bottles and you get a big one!"
"Aren't these rigged?" Bucky whispers close to your ear but you're much too busy fishing through your wallet and handing the attendant a crumpled 5 dollar bill to pay him any mind. "Really?"
"Did you see the otter?" you hiss back, gesturing at said plush toy with the softballs the guy gave you in hand already. "It's massive and I want it."
Bucky rolls his eyes but the hint of a smirk pulls at the corner of his lips all the same. He stands back languidly, leaning on one foot as he crosses his arms over his broad chest.
"Alright, go for it then. Just don't break anything."
"No promises," you mumble under your breath. You take a moment to aim and throw but strikeout when the softball lands short of the bottles. Shock strikes you instantly, but you brush it off and try again...only to fall short yet again, striking to the side instead of hitting bottles this time.
Now you know you didn't imagine it.
"The ball moved midair."
The attendant doesn't mind you and is instead busy picking up your missed balls. "Better luck next time, lady."
Scowling, you pay up another five, deadset on that otter, and this time take the time to do it properly. Holding back your strength is something you've gotten used to after this long, so gauging it just right to get through whatever's getting it to stray away takes a moment.
And it veers off in a way that tells you it's impossible for something else not to be happening.
Just as you're about to throw the second softball, another hand takes it from yours. Glancing over your shoulder, Bucky holds it in his left weighing the ball before leaning into your ear.
"It's a magnet."
He nods before gesturing towards the booth. "Must be hiding around the bottles. There's metal in these and whatever magnet there is keeps the balls from hitting them."
"The kids won prices," you remind him.
"Must be turning it on for the older crowd then." This time when he tries it, you can tell he's not using that much force but his aim is much better than yours. Despite that, the ball still veers away from its target almost at the last second.
"Tough luck. Want another try, miss?"
You want to punch the guy in his ugly mug so bad, but you know better. Not everything can be solved with violence. It'd surely make you feel a ton better though. Dejected, you turn to tell Bucky that you're better off leaving it be. Before you can though, Bucky's already handing another five-dollar bill to the guy who gives him another pair of softballs.
Clinging to his arm to buy some time, you hiss back at him. "What are you doing?"
"Getting you that otter."
He gives you a boyish smirk, tossing up one of the balls in the air before playfully throwing it at the bottles. With the force he puts behind it, whatever's pulling the balls doesn't do as well of a job of veering its trajectory. The softball actually tags the edge of the milk containers.
And that was with you hanging onto his dominant arm. Releasing it instantly, Bucky takes the second softball and throws it with more than enough force to not only topple all three in no time flat but bust a hole through the board behind the bottles as well.
Your cheers erupt as you clap giddily to his triumph while Bucky graciously thanks the attendant for the stuffed animal and comes to hand it to you.
"There you go," he says with a more than satisfied grin.
"That was awesome, Buck! Thank you!" Accepting the toy into your arms, you squeeze it tightly, loving how soft and squishy it is. Giggling, you tuck the otter under one arm and take him away yet again to enjoy the rest of the fair.
Your time together eases after that as you two readily enjoy the outing. You almost forget why you're here.
The small sting you feel in your chest, however, doesn't let you forget that easily.
Despite what you said before about this being nothing but practice to help out a friend, you honestly can't help but imagine this as an actual date. Honestly, it's what little solace you'll get knowing that someone like him would never look at you in that sort of way.
It's torture and bliss all wrapped in one. And regrettably, the more you spend time with him and the more you're forced to talk about how he should be with other girls when he takes them out, the more it digs deeper into your chest and leaves it hollow.
You hate to admit it but Sam was right to warn you.
Sure, you may be another tough super soldier that Hydra created and that the Avengers liberated, but the world didn't always go your way just because you're tough enough to take a punch or give it. Where this is hitting you is somewhere you can't protect with a good punch.
What's worse is that you would never even try defending yourself against Bucky.
Besides, the only reason this is starting to hurt is because of how much fun you're having, and imagining him enjoying his time with someone else just as much isn't making it any better.
Better call it quits now while I'm still okay.
"It's getting late."
The evening had turned dark a while ago, but you both had stuck around as the crowds grew, even sneaking away under the pier near the shore to enjoy some quiet time. You'd long abandoned your sandals, carrying them in your hands as your stuffed otter laid pressed between your arms and stomach.
The water that brushes against your bare feet is chilly but you don't mind it. It's helping clear out your mind of this fairytale of a night.
"Yeah, we should probably head back already."
Nodding at Bucky's suggestion, you bend over and put your sandals back on only to be met by warmth around your shoulders when you stand back up straight. His leather jacket feels huge over your small frame but it envelopes you wholly in the heat of his body as the musky scent so uniquely his reaches your nose.
"Come on," he says while offering his arm. "We can get some pizza on the way back and watch a movie. How's that sound?"
It pains you to see that look in his eyes. The same look that you know means nothing to him but the world to you.
Smiling back, you nod and take his offer. You'll take what you can while you can get it. In the end, you can say with certainty that it was the best date you've ever had.
Because it was as real to you as it was fake to him.
The next morning, you're sitting on the common room couch snuggling the stuffed otter in your arms and scrolling through news channels while Sam bickers by the kitchen for you to just make up your mind with one and stick with it.
"Chill, Cap. I'm not stopping at the news."
"Why not just search the guide then?" he asks, peeved.
"The what?" Before he can bicker some more about how you could possibly not know about it, you both watch as Bucky jogs out of the hallway leading to the rooms with a skip to his step.
"Are you in a good mood?" you ask unable to believe what your eyes are seeing.
He grabs an apple from the array of fruits set aside in the fridge, leaving his phone unattended on the countertop when it suddenly lights up and rings with a message. Sam appears to only get a quick glimpse but it's enough to have him smirking to himself and playfully shoving at Bucky with his arm.
"Man, is that what I think it is? Did you call her?"
Your heart sinks at the chuckle Bucky lets out before snatching his phone away from the countertop.
"Texted her," he clarified. He takes a quick bite of the apple and you mistake the loud crunch for something else breaking as your chest tightens. "Asked her out to lunch and she said yes."
"That's great to hear. Don't screw it up now."
Bucky scoffs as he rounds the kitchen countertop and heads into the common room towards the front door.
"Doubt I can after the lesson I got." As he passes you by, you freeze at the way his hand lands on your shoulder with a small squeeze. "I'll see you guys later."
The door shuts so definitively after him that you can't do much else aside from sink your face against the soft fur of your stuffed toy. Behind you, you hear Sam groan and some shuffling as he makes his way behind the couch and lays his hand on your head.
"I'm sorry, kid."
You shake your head against the soft fur, knowing all that's doing is wiping tears you don't want him or anybody to see.
Sam heaves a long sigh before patting your shoulder. "I'm going to go help Sarah do some errands around town. You should tag along. It'll help get your mind out of it."
Nodding, you rush into your room without letting him see you and hurriedly change. As you take your phone to leave, you stare at the stuffed otter that's now laying on your bed. Carefully, you pick it up and look into its beady eyes for a moment. As tears start to prick at your eyes again, you startle as a knock comes on your door.
Through it, Sam calls your name as he says, "You ready?"
Hurriedly, you do what you mean to do before opening the door to find Sam waiting on the other side for you. Wearing a bright smile, you bounce on your feet and salute him.
"Ready to go, Captain!"
Sam chuckles and gestures away towards the common room with a nod of his head. "Alright then. Let's go."
Before you close the door behind your room, you take one last peek inside, watching from afar how the stuffed animal's tail barely juts out from the door of your closed closet. Without much more of a glance, you close the door behind you and follow after Sam.
Strange how now of all times you're thankful that your memory never recovered as well as Bucky's did. Stranger still that you find comforting the fact that anything not recurrent in your day-to-day life ceases to exist in your memory before long.
Out of sight, out of mind.
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Bucky Making You Squirt For The First Time Whilst In Wakanda...
Warnings | smut, squirting, fingering, mentions of disability, angst, mentions of death and murder, swearing, insecure Bucky, overstimulation
Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬
There were many things that Bucky had to get to doing one handed. At first, it had taken some getting used to, he no longer had a silver grip to follow out orders with, or aid his other hand with, now that the prosthetic had been removed. Wakanda had wiped away any evidence from whom he had once been, except his mind, that was still a work in progress.
But with time, he had adapted to the disability within the calm nature that surrounded him. For the first time in his life, he felt safe, he had his own home, to which he shared with you, an avenger and an old friend of T’Challa’s. It was a simple hut, but it was something that brought him comfort, never needing to pretend to be someone else behind the walls, having an enclosure of reassurance, even if the structure had no door.
For the moment, he was alone, you had gone to the new king’s coronation, despite not being of birthright to the country. The people here accepted you, and from more than just your amorous connection to him, they had slowly but surely became well adversed with his presence, sending him meaningful, reassuring smiles, and allowing their kids to run around the perimeter of his plot.
With bright eyes, he had watched as you allowed the children to assort their paints, and stroke the colours of red, black and yellow as stripes upon your skin, accumulating you to their culture. Bucky had made no attempts to move closer, he was content with watching you run around with the children, laughing at their jokes, and telling them stories of your adventures out in the world.
They saw you as one of their heroes, that had partaken in training as a youngster by their best and now aged commanders. This was your home, and that in turn, made you insist that it was his also. Though, he knew that something would eventually ruin this little life that the two of you had began together in the midst of hiding, and that had kept him awake after you had left.
He had tried to lay upon the furs that were rolled around to make a floor bed, listening to the sounds of communicating birds, and playing ancestors of the great commanders, but he did not fathom to manage to rock himself into a slumber. And his eyes were still peeled as you returned, the sky having grown significantly darker, after the celebrations that you and Shuri had planned for her brother.
Your hand reached towards an encrusted leaf of water that acted as a bowl, dampening a rag as you began to swipe at the skin of your face. Out from the corner of the one room, Bucky walked over, taking the dampened material out of your hand, with his one, and helped you in cleansing your skin of the natural pigments that had been assorted into bright colours.
“Did you have fun?” He asked tenderly, as he washed the tribal cosmetics from your skin, feeling his heart swoon as you presented a great smile, filled with teeth, and softly nodded at his words.
“Yes, though, I cannot help but feel the void of T’Chaka. He’d ruled this place for so long, keeping it concealed from greedy eyes, and I have a nervous feeling for what lays ahead for T’Challa. He insists that I don’t have to get involved in the political sides of this place any longer, I am not needed to continue to be a protecter, but it was my purpose. I have no other path in my mindset of what I should do instead.”
After speaking, you breathed, leaning into Bucky’s gentle hand, lulling in the sentimental feeling of him looking after you. “You may be a warrior, but you are also my partner. Just lay with me a little longer before you go out and search for another fight, will you?” He put the wipe down, grasping your face in his palm, humming contentedly as you pressed kisses upon his rough and scarred skin.
“I think I could just go that.” You replied, weaving your hands through his locks, and undoing the knot of the small intricate bun that rested upon the various layers of his hair. A smile tugged at his beard, as he leant slowly down, encasing his prickly bordered mouth upon your own, as you reciprocated the action.
“Get on the bed doll.” He sweetly spoke, his lips brushing against yours, following after you as did as he said, going to roll on top of him, as was usually the position, considering his impediment, but Bucky shook his head, causing a furrow to sew itself between your brows. “Stay there.”
Trusting him, you nodded, allowing him to tug at your purple robe, to which you traditionally wore nothing beneath. His azure gaze locked onto your watching eyes, as he contently kissed down your torso, passing your navel, his lips over the curve of your mound.
Bucky had ate you ate countless times, but never in this position. Usually, you would clamber your weight atop of him, descending your pussy onto his mouth, as the both of you had thought that would be the easier solution to doing things. But he showed no struggle as his lips slipped down lower, his tongue teasing your clit, as he rested his chest upon the hay adorned ground.
He raised his hand, moving the flesh of his fingers between your folds, tugging at the lips, to open you up for his adventurous tongue to explore. His eyelashes fluttered, breaking his locked gaze of you, as he lulled in your taste, his administrations pulling moans out from your chests, as you tried to keep quiet, for there were sure to be children sleeping in the neighbouring huts.
“Bucky.” Once more, your hands cascaded through his long brown locks, tugging at the root, prompting a groan to rattle through the man that was going down on you. You swivelled your hips a little, helping him hit a deeper angle with that tongue of his, yelping lightly as he added a finger, and then another, stretching you open. “I’m going to cum James.”
He paid no mind to your words, continuing his enjoyable work, as he made you spill your loving essence over his tongue, lapping it up, before returning to your clit, sucking the bud behind his teeth, swirling his saliva around the pink accessory, whilst adding another two fingers, making you be filled with four.
The stretch was delicious. After the gruelling, not to mention worrisome day, that you had experiences, unwinding in such a simplistic, and euphoric way was definitely welcomed. Bucky always had the means to make you feel good, but the majority of the time, you would insist to go down on him instead, finding it fulfilling to apt your partner with such pleasure.
But here he was, returning all those favours, with his mouth and tongue, stimulating you closer to another orgasm, and having you on the verge of screaming, though, you had to bite your hand to contain such a sound. Otherwise, it’d ring out across the land, and the last thing you wanted was the Dora Milaje bursting in, thinking that someone was getting murdered.
The only thing being viscously attacked was your pussy, but you weren’t complaining as you whined wantonly, feeling yourself spill out with your juices again, screwing your eyes shut as he rubbed the bristles on his face against your clit, prodding your entrance with his tongue as he removed his fingers, his eyes beaming wide as you brought them up to your mouth, sucking on each one, moving them down to the back of your throat.
Bucky swore he’d bust right then. He shuffled away, discarding of the red material that he was often clothed in, revealing his hard cock, as he came to rest over you, after removing his digits from your hungry mouth. “Buck, don’t you want me to go on top?” Your chest raised as you asked the question, but he shook his head, only just managing to balance himself over you, as you tugged at his cock a couple of times, before swiping his head through the river of your slit.
The sensation caused your lover’s legs to buckle beneath him, as he struggled to uphold his weight, his head falling against the column of your neck as tears pricked at his eyes. Without any trouble, you rolled him over, climbing to be straddled upon his face, as you cupped the corners of his rugged face. You could still feel the soreness between your legs from his beard, and you loved the feeling. But the regard of pleasure could be paused for a moment, as you saw his blue eyes swimming with waves of emotion.
“Hey it’s okay baby.” You ushered him, feeling him trail his hand across your spine, pulling you closer. His puffy cheeks had turned red as he looked at you, almost as though he were embarrassed from his prone accident. “Why’d you try to be on top, I thought we spoke about that?”
“I just wanted to make you feel good.” He gulped, watching as your face dropped into a swarm of sadness and guilt. “I’m useless here, and it seems like the only thing I’m good at it brining you pleasure. But clearly I’m not that good at it if I can’t even put my own dick in you.”
“Don’t James, baby. You are not useless, you are free. The people here are helping you, and then, you’ll be able to do whatever you want with the road that will lay before you. It’s about patience my love.” You grasped the sides of his face so that he was forced to look directly at you. The trailing of his eyes, curving down your exposed chest and stomach did not go unnoticed, though you continued speaking to him. “And do not ever question how good you make me feel, even out of intercourse, you make me feel like the most important woman in the galaxy. It’s okay to need help sometimes, and that’s why I’m here with you James.”
Putting pressure upon your back, he tugged you down, colliding his lips against yours, the taste of yourself that was lingering on his tongue making you moan into his mouth. You slipped your tongue in his mouth, scouring out every angle behind his white teeth, as you once again took ahold of his shaft, tapping the reddened tip against your clit.
The feeling made you wince, already feeling over stimulated, though you could not deny that you wanted to feel all of him, so you shuffled back, raising your hips over his own, as you placed him at your entrance, and began to sink down on his hard cock.
“Fuck doll.” He gritted his teeth together, leaning back as he watched your face pleasurable grimace at the various sensations that were burning up your body. But nevertheless, you began to ride him, planting your hands on his shoulders as you swayed your hips against his. Bucky raised his hand, cupping your breast with it, and pinching your nipple, watching as your threw your head back, a single tear slipping out of the corner of your eye.
That pout that had encased itself on your mouth, as you bounced atop of him, made him lick his lips. Various sounds escaped your lips as you crashed your sore pussy down on his straining cock, wanting nothing more than to cum again.
You leant back, a light laugh escaping your throat as you braced one of your hands upon his tensing thigh, the other creeping down to rub your clit. Bucky felt his whole spark, as he refused to close his eyes so that he could watch you be illuminated by the oncoming orgasm that would soon be tearing through you, and the moonlight that seeped through the opening of the hut.
The man ran his large hand down your body, replacing your hand with his own, fiddling with your engorged clit as you squeaked out indicating sounds of pleasure, as he traced it with the tip of his nail. “Cum doll.” He spoke, his voice strained, as his hips thrusted up on their own accord.
A frown settled on your face as you grabbed at your tits, your breathing escalating to the point where your skin had grown tingly. And before you knew what had hit you, you came once more, but this time it was different. You had squirted, soaking Bucky’s thighs, splattering your clear juices through his pubic hairs, the liquid reaching the bottom of his belly.
“Oh my fucking god.” You stopped for a moment, as your head felt all hazy, leaning it back, for a minute, until you began rotating your hips again, your pussy constantly clenching around his shaft. He felt close, more so as you reached behind you with a free hand, and began tugging gently at the seam of his balls. “Fill me up baby, cum in- fuck!”
Another wave had hit you, it not taking long to reach after your previous three orgasms. It left Bucky no choice, his body followed its own whim as his balls fluttered, his head spluttering his cum inside your walls, leaving you lightheaded, and all over the place. A hum fell from your lips as you moved so that his softening and cum covered cock would fall out of you, laying on his chest, as you felt your pussy trying to keep all of his seed within you, though it failed to do so, as it ran down the inside of your leg, and trailed down Bucky’s own.
“So good.” You smiled, half drunk off of how many times you had cum. Bucky smiled, running his hand up your leg, to soothe and calm your muscles, before cupping your face, bringing it closer so that he could give you a tender peck upon the forehead.
“Go to sleep doll, I love you.” He brushed his dirtied fingers through your hair, smiling as he softly heard you mumble a reciprocating response, your head falling in the dip of his chest, you falling asleep, giving him one last piece of mind until the morning.
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Steve: You should do what you love.
Y/N: *jerks their head up*
Y/N: *spins around to face him*
Steve: No that’s not what I meant-
Y/N: But you want it.
Steve: Okay fair enough-
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GO GO DANCER- S.G ROGERS
Pairing: Mob Boss!Steve x Female!Reader
Word Count: 907
Summary: You’re Steve’s girl, and everyone knows it. He takes you with him everywhere and flaunts you like a brand new Rolex. At the most popular club in NYC, he wants you with him, dancing and for a business deal.
Warnings: implied smut, thigh riding, pet names, daddy kink, grinding, drug and alcohol use
** This was inspired by the song Go Go Dancer, by Lana Del Rey! I totally recommend listening to it, it's unreleased but you can hear it on youtube :)) This is my first time writing a “mob boss” type blurb and sprinkles of horny goodness, so i apologise if its kinda shitty lol.. maybe a part 2? - claire
The buzz sparked through your veins like barbed wire. The club lights swayed, fuzzy and blurred, colours mingling and changing between the reds, blues, purples, and greens. Music pumped through the speakers, the vibrations sending jolts through your body. Your head felt light, you felt so free. Like you were flying. Adrenaline pumped through your body as you danced on the dance floor, hips swaying to the upbeat pop music playing from all around you. You felt like you were on top of the world, in your own bubble from the crowd of people huddle on the floor. Alcohol flooded through your veins, making you feel dizzy and giggly. Your diamond rings shown in the lights, shimmering- grabbing the eyes of the dozens of people around you. You were on fire. You were burning up so hot hot hot- “ Kittyyyy” a low voice growled in your ear from behind. A strong, firm arm draped around your middle, and you reached up and wrapped your hands around Steve’s neck as he nibbled on your neck, inhaling your scent of vanilla and cherry. “ Steviee baby!” You giggled, excited your lover had come back to see you in action. He smirked against your neck. “As much as I love seeing you in action my pretty kitty-” he tugged on your earlobe gently and you shrieked in surprise. A laugh escape you, as you started slowly grinding your ass against him. He growled, his hands snaking around to slide his hands down your figure. “ I need you to keep me company while I finish this business deal. Can you help daddy out and be a good little girl for me hmm?” You turned around to face him, and set your hands on his toned chest, tracing your fingers along his blazer seams. “ Anything for you daddy!” You giggled, the music thumping louder and louder. You looked up to meet his lust-filled eyes, piercing you. He towered over you, being 6’4 and a hunk of muscle. He chuckled and took your hand in his, leading you out of the heat-filled jumble of people and led you up to his booth. Once the two of you reached the private area he has reserved for him and his clients, he sat down across from the men on the other side of the table, picking you up and setting you on his thigh. You leaned into his touch, the smell of his musky cologne and whisky intoxicating your senses. Steve welcomed you into his embrace, sliding his one arm around your waist, keeping you in place. The music was lower back here, yet you could still feel it thumping through the floor. You gripped the table with your one hand to steady yourself as the booze made you sway lightly. Steve was so tall your feet didn't even touch the floor as he secured you in his grasp. He reached across the table, and one of the men handed him a blunt. Steve turned to you with an eyebrow raised. “ Open up sugar.” he whispered, and placed the blunt in your mouth, as you bit down with your teeth. He digged in his pocket, pulling out a silver lighter, lighting it up and lighting your dart. You inhaled deeply, allowing the weed down into your body and blew a puff into his face. Steve chuckled and turned to the men as you giggled, the drugs making your body feel tingly. “ So boys. How bout that business?”
Steve was nearly done his meeting, and you felt as if you were floating. The blunt was nearly gone, and you felt on fire. Half way through the agreement, Steve began to bounce his one knee, the leg which you just so happened to be on, and you couldn't take it much longer You were growing needier by the second, the friction of his suit pants giving you tingles and sparks to the point you swore you saw stars. You felt as if you could barley take it anymore, as you felt the arousal pooling down in your lace panties. Wetness was seeping down your thighs by the second. You couldn't take it any longer, setting your hands on his knee as you began grinding and rubbing along his thigh to ease the pain. Your head rolled back against his chest, the friction giving you sweet relief. Wetness stained his pant leg as you became needier and needier, clinging to him tighter and tighter. “ Yes boys then I suppose we’ve come to an agreement-” Steve suddenly looked down at you and saw what you were doing. “ Become a bit needy arent we slut?” he growled in your ear so only you could hear, meeting his baby blue eyes blown with lust. All you could do was pant, biting your lips as moans threatened to escape. He bounced his knee faster and you swore you were flying. “ Well I suppose Y/N and I must be going.. shes become a bit.. needy.” Steve laughed and swept you up off his lap as he stood up and shook hands with everyone. At this point, your arousal was dripping down your legs and down Steve's pants. Your legs trembled and you reached to him for balance. “ Come now little girl. We’ll get you taken care of.” Steve murmured, guiding you towards the exit of the club. Desire seeped out of you as you realised exactly what was going to happen back at the penthouse.
OUT MY MARVEL MERCH: https://lokifxs.creator-spring.com/
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Steve: Why would you give a knife to Y/N?!
Natasha, shrugging: Y/N felt unsafe.
Steve: Now I feel unsafe!
Natasha: I’m sorry…
Natasha: Would you like a knife?
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the art of flirting
stephen strange x sorcerer!reader
summary: You are a fellow sorcerer taking up residence in the New York Sanctum with Stephen. You’re friends, but there is some obvious tension brewing between you.
word count: 1.2k
warnings: I do not write smut, but this is spicy. Sort of? Flirtatious behavior and words.
a/n: Day two of writing Stephen Strange one shots. Although, I may write a part 2 for this.
stephen strange masterlist
You were busying yourself with organizing the books in Stephen's study. He preferred them in call number order, whereas they had been sorted alphabetically by the previous master. You had arrived in Kathmandu not long after Stephen did and decided to join him in New York after defeating Kaecilius. You two were very different people, yet your personalities balanced each other out perfectly. Because of this, a friendship between you blossomed beautifully, yet you couldn't help but feel a certain tension starting to brew between you as well.
You weren't his apprentice, and you had to remind him of that consistently, yet he enjoyed asking you to assist him with specific tasks. You didn't mind helping him. In fact, you rather enjoyed the quality time it presented to you. He didn't ask you to organize the shelves in his office. You just wanted to because he complained about it often enough but never actually did anything about it. So you took it upon yourself to do it for him. You liked doing things for him. Perhaps it was your way of showing him you cared about him.
And goodness, did you care about him.
You weren't sure when you realized your affections for the sorcerer, but you were almost mortified by the realization when you did. Having a crush felt frivolous and completely counterproductive. You were here to expand your knowledge, grow as a person, and train in the mystic arts. Not to sit there doe-eyed while watching him do the most mundane things. You liked the way he walked, talked, the white streaks in his hair, and the intensity of those cobalt eyes. Just looking at him made your heart pound in your chest, and when his eyes met yours, you found yourself looking away immediately, too afraid he'd realize what you were thinking.
But then you started to notice something—small gestures of affection, here and there on his part. It started with touching the small of your back when allowing you to enter a room before him or a brush of stray hair from your face. Those little touches gave you chills, but nothing was as intense as the day you trained together. He had accidentally hurt you while engaging in combat.
Just as you unfolded yourself from the ground, his hands were on your face. He gave you a quick once over, "I'm sorry," he murmured, "are you okay?"
You gave him a slight nod. Yes, you landed hard against the ground, but honestly, you couldn't feel anything other than his hands cradling your face. "I'm fine. I think I was just distracted." You trailed off, your eyes glimmering up at him in awe.
"By what?" He whispered back, his eyes searching yours. There was a look in his eyes that you couldn't quite read, and you wondered if he had any suspicions regarding your feelings for him.
"I'm not sure—" You answered dumbly. It was frustrating how he turned your brain to mush and your legs to jelly.
His hand slid down your jaw, his thumb brushing your lower lip so quickly, you weren't entirely sure it happened, "pay attention next time. I can't always coddle you." He let you go and turned away after that.
You scoffed at his words, releasing a humorless laugh, "I don't need you to coddle me." You crossed your arms over your chest, ignoring the burning sensation sifting throughout your body from the way he touched you just moments before.
Your lower lip tingled, and it took great willpower not to bring your finger to your lips at the recollection. That was only a few days ago, and since then, you've made sure to pay attention while practicing your combat skills with Stephen. You slipped the last book in its rightful place before leaving his study. You found Stephen sitting in one of the more comfortable chairs in the Sanctum. You bit the inside of your lip suddenly, admiring the way he looked: knees spread, red cloak spilling over the chair with a book in his hands.
He tore his gaze from the pages and looked up at you. He was always reading something. His photographic memory allowed him to read quickly, which meant it was easier for him to go through half the books lying around. It was partly why he was so good at what he did. "What have you been up to?" He asked, giving you a once over.
"I organized the books in your study."
His brows flew up, and his lips tugged into a small close-mouthed smile. "How I like them, I hope."
You rolled your eyes, "Yes, I remembered to put them in order by color."
His smile fell, and he squinted his eyes in your direction, "For your sake, I hope you’re joking."
His words excited you for some reason. You felt your heart thrum in your chest, and you released a shaky breath, "What will you do to me, Doctor Strange. Spank me?"
He gave you a long look from over the book he was now more than happy to neglect. "Careful." He warned gently, "don't give me any ideas."
You felt your cheeks grow hot. You stepped closer to him, your knees almost touching his, but you paused, "Perhaps I put them in order by size."
He wanted to smirk, you could tell. "You're testing the waters, but I'm warning you."
Your knee touched his, and you looked down at him with an impish grin playing on your lips, "I'm kidding. They're organized by color, as I said before." You giggled at the strained look writ across his face.
He placed the book down, and suddenly his hands were on your waist, and he pulled you forward. You stumbled against his legs and fell over into his lap. It all happened so fast, but his grip found the back of your neck, and his fingers dug into your side possessively. "If you're going to insist on being naughty—" He murmured.
You met his fiery gaze. "You're not really going to spank me, or you?" You asked with dread, your eyes searching his for answers. Your body was hot, your head reeling at what was happening between you.
He chuckled, and you could feel his breath fanning against your lips, "No. I'm not going to do that," He murmured just as your body melted into him.
Your knees sunk around his hips, and you rested your hands on his shoulders. You both were painfully aware of the intimate position you found yourselves in. The only problem was, now that you were on his lap, he had no idea what to do with you.
A noise suddenly echoed off the Sanctum walls, and you both turned to see Wong standing there with a stack of books in his arms. He froze, his eyes wide when he realized what he was looking at: you straddling Stephen's lap, his hand on your waist, and your faces only inches from each other.
"Did I miss something?" Wong asked, and you scrambled off of Stephen and quickly smoothed the bottom of your robes. You didn't say a word to either of them and instead escaped with your cheeks burning from embarrassment.
Stephen gave Wong a pointed look, "Not a word from you." He grabbed the book and opened it once again, and Wong just shook his head before carrying on with his duties. Stephen's head was spinning, and he could barely focus on the book. All he could think about was what he would have done to you if Wong hadn't walked in.
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Y/N: Well, this is a nice change of scenery.
Bucky: It’s a prison cell.
Y/N: I was being sarcastic.
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Bucky x Reader
18+ fic, if you’re under 18 please go elsewhere, smut, food play (sort of), angst, fluff, love declarations
Written quite late, all mistakes are my own.
Bucky tries something he talked about long ago, it leads to a realisation and a step towards healing.
Please feel free to like, reblog and/or comment. I appreciate the feedback. Thanks I hope you enjoy it.
Bucky sat in front of fireplace watching the flames as they crackled in the silence of the night. A blanket wrapped around him, not for heat but to cover his naked frame as he didn't want to attempt to find his underwear in the dark and risk waking her up. She looked so peaceful in her sleep. Relaxed and energised rather than the emotionally drained figure she'd been when they arrived. This weekend was theirs alone. No interruptions, no phones or social media - an agreement they'd made before taking the break. He was snapped out of his thoughts by her arms wrapping around his shoulders from behind and planting little kisses in the crook of his neck. He leaned his head against hers lightly and clasped her hands in his.
"Sorry doll, did I wake you?" he rasped.
"No, the bed was cold without you" she replied between kisses. He hummed in response to each one. She moved around him and he pulled her naked frame onto his lap wrapping his large woollen blanket around them both. Sitting in the most enticing companionable silence, he listened to her breathing while she traced invisible patterns on his chest with her finger tips. Her touch was as soothing as the sound she emitted as she sighed happily. He closed his eyes momentarily and thought about how he’d never felt like this, even in the 1940s. A thought then popped into his head. It came from a conversation he’d had when he was in the Howling Commandos.
It had been a night of alcohol and discussing women. Talking about things that would otherwise be seen as degenerative behaviour because they were talking so openly about sex and things they’d want to do. He smiled as he remembered the one thing he’d always wanted to try. He’d been teased because he was told it was the kind of thing you wouldn’t do with a one night stand. But by the time he was exposed to the horrors of war, he realised that he wanted something intimate and forever. Steve had joked that he was going soft on them all, that he was the Casanova who suddenly seemed to be losing his touch. Bucky never really shared much with them after that. It was not long after that the train incident happened. Bucky tensed slightly, Y/N felt it and looked up at him.
“Buck is everything ok?” she asked him with concern. He sucked in his bottom lip and glanced at her with a softness she’d not seen before. It was new. It was deep. It was only for her.
“I’m fine” he answered as he leaned down to kiss her. He could spend his whole life like this, alone with her cocooned in her love. The kiss reluctantly broke and she looked at him in confusion. “What?” he chuckled as he gazed in her eyes adoringly.
“Nothing, it’s… you’re different somehow, it’s like you’re more… I don’t know how to phrase it but there’s a glint in your eyes, almost impish” she giggled as he kissed the tip of her nose.
“Impish huh?” he grinned as he playfully poked her ribs and tickled her until she submitted. She curled into him, once again in the comfort of the blanket. She could sense that Bucky was going over something in his head.
“Talk to me Buck, what’s ticking in that beautiful head of yours?” Y/N coaxed with a set of small kisses to his jaw and grazing her teeth lightly along that same trail. The sensual trawl of her touch ignited a boldness in him that he’d forgotten existed. He ran his velvety lips over Y/N’s throat, sucking at the flesh ensuring that she was marked. She whimpered in delight at the feel of him loving her. He stopped to look at her. The flushed look on her face instilled a sense of pride in him. She was his and there was no question that he was equally hers.
“I want to try something with you… if… if you’re happy to” he spoke hypnotically and Y/N was ecstatic that he felt he wanted to try something with her.
“Buck you know I’m always happy to”
“It’s just I remember overhearing a man talk about it when I was 18 and it never appealed to me then. When I went to war, the other guys would bring up talk about sex a lot and they started asking about things we might want to do with women and I got ribbed by them, Steve included” he suddenly looked really shy. Y/N adjusted herself to sit properly in his lap.
“James I won’t do that to you” she told him. He knew her calling him James either meant he was in trouble, it was something important or she wanted him to realise how much he meant to her. “Why did they tease you?”
“They were talking about positions and casual sex, hook ups I think you called them when talking with Nat,” he paused as she nodded wanting him to continue. He sighed as his lips thinned into a line, his face showing tinges of pink as he pondered his next words. “This wasn’t a position as such, it was more… food play I think. It was more about pleasure for the dame, to make her feel good. That suddenly meant something to me. I’d flirted and played a good few dames before getting my papers and I’m not proud of it looking back but they all looked at me and laughed. According to Steve, I was losing my lady’s man status because I wanted to try something they said was intimate like it was a dirty word” Bucky’s raspy voice and soulful ocean eyes contained the emotion he felt. Her fingers toyed with his and she kissed his hand.
“But you want to definitely try it now?” she checked, still uncertain what ‘it’ was. Bucky smiled shyly.
“You’re the only woman I want to ever be intimate with” his voice was barely audible, he didn’t look her in the eye as he was finally admitting his feelings. She knew the courage this took and was relieved because it meant the feelings were completely mutual.
“I only want to be intimate with you too” Y/N whispered knowing he was building up to saying those three important words and she didn’t want to steal that moment from him. He slowly untangled himself from Y/N and placed her on the sofa, the blanket still wrapped around her and secured in her hands. He pressed his lips to her forehead in a soft assuring kiss before heading into the kitchen.
He returned quickly with two items in hand. He knelt in front of Y/N, between her legs, and smiled boyishly at her. It was cute, it was endearing and it was one hundred per cent James Barnes. Not Steve’s friend Bucky, not Sergeant Barnes of the Howling Commandos, not the Soldat/Winter Soldier, not tired Bucky in Wakanda and definitely not the Bucky Barnes attending therapy. This was her James. The one that only made himself available to her on a profound mental and emotional level. The one who placed his heart, hopes and dreams in her hands like she had with him. He removed the blanket from her grasp, letting it fall to Y/N’s waist. He set the items down behind him, obscuring them from her vision. Kneeling up, he gazed into her eyes and leaned in, his lips caressing hers warmly. Breaking the kiss, he slowly peppered them down her throat to her breasts. He was mindful of the attention he paid to each. Y/N’s little moans of approval spurred him on. Sucking on one nipple while tweaking the other between his fingers and hearing her come apart because of him was something he wanted to commit to memory, this was him rediscovering what it meant to be simply James Barnes in the modern world. Knowing how riled up her body was, he stopped suddenly and teasingly. Y/N’s flushed face echoed her confusion. He gave her that infamous shit eating grin that she could never say no to. He slid her down onto his lap. Her legs wrapped around his waist almost immediately as he remained on his knees. He pressed his forehead to hers.
“Do you trust me doll?” he breathed.
“Without a shadow of a doubt James” she panted. He grinned again and reached behind him. He picked up what looked like a little square of butter that you get at hotels. Her brow furrowed in confusion as he unwrapped it from the foil, running it over and around her nipple with concentrated care. Setting it back on the floor, he grabbed the second item cinnamon.
“Cinnamon always reminded me of home, walking by the Italian bakery” he admitted as he sprinkled the cinnamon over her nipple. He sought eye contact with her again once he set the little spice jar down. “When I look at you Y/N, I see my home, my haven and the only… place… I … want… to… be…” he confessed punctuating the last few words with kisses on her plain breast before turning his attention to the spice laden flesh and kitten licking around the areola before hungrily devouring the breast, gorging on the sweetness of her skin infused with the savoury and spice of the added ingredients. Each nip, suck, tug and lick elicited groans of need and want from Y/N, her pussy now dripping as she wanted more, she wanted him like she’d never felt before. She ground herself against his throbbing cock feeling it grow with each ministration she made.
“James, please. I need you now” she spoke barely audible as he continued to assault her fleshy globes with a feral passion. He didn’t need telling twice and slid into her, careful not to hurt her as she adjusted to his.
“Fuck, doll you’re so perfect” he praised, his mouth suddenly back on hers as they began to rock in an even rhythm. She whined into the kiss as he began to speed up and control her movements. His hands rested on Y/N’s hips, fingers digging in a little as he began to wreck her with each thrust. Her cries begging for more driving his need to give her the pleasure she deserved. Her velour walls fluttered around him, tightening as she clutched his shoulders.
“James… I” she began, struggling to vocalise.
“I know Y/N, I’ve got you doll” he promised as she began milking him. His angle was hitting her spot every time and she began to tense feeling ready to explode in pleasure. Her eyes rolling back as her orgasm hit like a tidal wave. She fell into him biting into his right shoulder simultaneously screaming and feeling him starting to shoot his hot seed deep inside her. His roar almost lion like as he came. Their movements began to slow down and even out. Their breathing was ragged and a sense of complete satisfaction reverberated around the room.
“I love you Y/N” he uttered looking at her. His eyes glassy with a mixture of emotion including fear and uncertainty for finally dropping that barrier around his heart.
“I love you too James” she returned through smiling eyes. “I always have and always will” she added with promise in her tone that he knew was sincere.
Yes, it was an intimate act and he may have been mocked for it, but Bucky smiled to himself knowing it was the right place, the right time and, more importantly, with the right woman. For someone who was declared as broken, he’d never felt more complete in his life. That’s when he realised that, though things wouldn’t be easy, there would be nothing he couldn’t face because he had her and their future - something worth fighting for.
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proof- yelena belova x reader
a/n: requested by anon!
You’re not used to this kind of pain, not anymore at least.
You’d grown more accustomed to the more mundane forms of pain the past few years as opposed to knife wounds and falling from buildings and broken bones, though you supposed that it didn’t get more domestic than your dog getting too excited and pulling you to the ground while out on a walk.
It could’ve been worse- you could’ve been alone or you could’ve landed on the concrete as opposed to the grass, though neither of those things made much of a difference in terms of the damage that had been done to your ankle.
“Stay there!” Yelena yelled as she took off sprinting, going after Fanny as you sat up and tested putting weight on the ankle.
Pain blossomed from the area and you immediately stopped any efforts to stand up, inhaling sharply as you did so.
It was strange- you had been stabbed and shot and had broken multiple bones throughout your prolific career as a Widow for the Red Room, but you don’t remember the pain ever being this sharp.
Maybe the mind control helped take the edge off.
Yelena returned into your frame of view a couple of seconds later, panting and holding Fanny’s leash tightly.
Fanny was wagging her tail as always, completely oblivious to the pain that she had caused you, panting as she walked over to your side and sat down next to you.
You didn’t even try to be angry at her, forgiving her the second you saw her.
“Are you okay?” Yelena asked, kneeling down besides you and Fanny.
You scratched Fanny’s fur absentmindedly, a welcome distraction from the lingering pain in your ankle.
“Honestly, I thought for a second that I had died.”
“What?” Concern flooded Yelena’s face as she looked over you for injuries she hadn’t noticed previously.
“I thought I had died because you have the face of an angel.”
All of the concern immediately dissipated from her face as she looked at you, the beginnings of a smile tugging on her lips
“That was awful.”
“No it wasn’t, you’re smiling!” You pointed out and she looked away from you.
“I hate you.”
“I can hear it in your voice, you can’t hide it!”
She looked back at you, the smile that you had accused her of on her lips.
“It’s a pity smile.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Oh, shut up. Do you think you can stand on your ankle?” She asked, standing up and offering you a hand.
You took it hesitantly, standing up and immediately regretting your decision as the pain multiplied tenfold, resorting to standing on your other foot almost immediately.
Yelena put her arm around your back, trying to support some of your weight.
“Are you sure you can walk home in this condition?” Yelena asked skeptically.
“I don’t think I’ll be doing much walking, more like limping home.”
“Okay, or you can just wait here and I can go home and bring the car.”
“You don’t have to bring the car.”
“You can barely stand,” She said pointedly. “If you want to make your ankle worse, then sure, we can both walk home. But I don’t want to see you in pain any more than you want to be in pain.”
You didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds, touched by your girlfriend’s worry for your well-being.
“Okay, just… be quick. Please.”
“I will be. Here, you keep her for company,” She said, handing you Fanny’s leash before she ran off.
You sat back down on the sidewalk, the pain in your ankle still lingering.
Fanny laid down next to you, watching Yelena’s disappearing figure intently.
When she finally disappeared around the corner, Fanny relaxed slightly, resting her head on the ground as you scratched her.
True to her word, Yelena arrived a couple of minutes later, pulling up to the curb before parking and helping you and Fanny into the car.
The two of you drove in silence through the streets, Fanny sitting in the backseat with her head sticking out of the window.
“Do you remember what it was like? Being stabbed or jumping out of a window when we were still in the program?” Yelena didn’t look away from the road, though her grip on the steering wheel tightened before she nodded. “It all felt so… dull. Like I was experiencing the pain but I wasn’t fully there for it, you know? Like it was watered down. And this definitely sucks more, don’t get me wrong, but it’s real. It feels real.”
At the last part, Yelena snuck a glance at you before looking back at the road.
“So you’re suggesting that I sprain my ankle too.”
You gave her an incredulous look.
“Of course not, this fucking sucks. Didn’t you hear that part?”
“No, I was too busy listening to you romanticize your sprained ankle.”
“I wasn’t… you’re so frustrating,” You said, no malice in your voice towards her. “It just… for the first time in my life, I feel what people should feel when they sprain their ankle or whatever. It’s not that dull sensation.”
You looked away from her and out of the window, though her hand found yours resting on the center console.
“I know what you mean,” She said, letting go of your hand and putting hers back on the steering wheel. “That the pain is just proof that we aren’t there anymore. That we’re free. Still, there are better ways of reminding yourself of that. Kissing me, for example.”
“I’ll keep that in mind for next time, before Fanny sprains my ankle again,” You said dryly and she smiled as she pulled over to the side of the street, in front of your apartment building.
“Come on, let’s go inside. I’ll set up some ice and pillows for you to rest your ankle on and we can watch some bad movies, okay? Just the three of us,” She said, petting Fanny’s side while looking at you.
You don’t think you’ll ever love someone more than you love the woman in front of you.
“How bad of movies are we talking?” You asked, clearing your throat and watching her face light up at the possibilities.
“Oh, just the worst. Movies so bad that you’ll forget about your ankle entirely.”
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— 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲! 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐜𝐬
+ cw: fluff, nsfw, mention of breeding (?)
+ a/n: something small bc i’m trying to stay active
needy! peter who cant go more than a few minutes without texting you.
needy! peter who dotes on you every second he can get.
needy! peter who spontaneously calls you because he just wants to hear your voice and how your day went.
needy! peter who needs constance reassurance that you chose him.
needy! peter whose love language is physical touch, so he always finds a way to touch you, hold you—kiss you.
needy! peter whose kisses linger just a little longer than the average peck.
needy! peter who gets rock hard just thinking about you.
needy! peter who strokes his cock to your pictures, your voice, or the thought of you when he’s away on long missions and you’re not there to help him.
needy! peter who rips through your clothes as soon as he returns home.
needy! peter whose eyes sparkle with adoration when you’re going down on him, thinks you’re the sweetest little thing.
needy! peter who gets off on eating you out, says he could do it for hours—and he would if you’d let him, that is.
needy! peter who whines and whimpers the moment his thick cock slides into your entrance, a mantra of ‘i love you’s’ vacating his quivering lips.
needy! peter who hates wearing condoms because he ‘can’t feel you’ and he ‘wants to be closer’.
needy! peter who can’t settle for just one orgasm from you, he’ll rut and rut until you’re a sobbing, fucked out mess.
needy! peter whose hands roam every inch of your body because he wants to feel every part of you—all the time.
needy! peter who hates wasting his seed, so he unloads it all in your cunt, filling you up over and over and over again until it sticks, and you’re carrying his kid.
➥ taglist form
© all content belongs to arachine 2021. no reposts or modifications.
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apologize ⸝⸝ oneshot
pairings: zemo x avenger!reader
warnings: light angst
summary: it's been years since the avengers fell apart and you've finally decided to pay zemo a visit – to give an apology for what happened in sokovia so long ago.
word count: 1073 words
A/N: honestly, this is bad and i am so sorry. i got the idea and couldn't stop myself from writing it down.
// NO SPOILERS FOR TFATWS!
Standing in front of the bulletproof glass, nothing more then a glass wall between you, you knew the decision to come here had been the right one.
If nothing else, the surprised look on Zemo's face when it was you that walked into the cell was worth the long trip, possibly even the lies you had told your team when they asked where you were going. You knew your team well by now, even scattered and in pieces as the avengers were right now, some things never changed.
And while nobody would have tried to stop you from going, even if you told them the truth, you knew they wouldn't understand why you wanted to see him.
After all, the wounds of your team falling apart in such a gruesome way were still fresh in everyone's minds, the years doing very little in the terms of anyone actually moving on from what had happened that day in Germany. And you understood your teammates, on some level at least.
Even now, looking at Zemo, both of you silent as you stared at each other, the tension visible to whatever guard was looking at you on the camera, you couldn't help but wonder just how easy it would be for you to fall back into your old mindset of blaming him for everything that had happened.
But you knew better now, as much as it pained you to admit it, the Avengers had always been a fractured team, on the verge of breaking apart any moment, all the secrets and bitterness tearing you all apart until one day you just couldn't hold onto each other any longer.
After what felt like seconds in your head, but was probably much longer in reality, Zemo finally broke the silence, his voice snapping you out of your thoughts. "You know I was wondering when one of you would come here. I have to admit I am more then a little surprised it's you, I was half expecting to see the Winter Soldier when the guards told me I had a visitor."
You stayed silent, a tiny twitch of your lips the only sign you had heard him. This had all been so much easier in your head, locked away in the comfort of your home, just thinking about coming here.
But now, when it was all a reality, you couldn't even force yourself to look up, your eyes refusing to meet his as you forced yourself to stand still in front of him. That 'strong avenger' part of your braing unwilling to show just how nervous standing here made you, even the glass between you doing very little to give you any actual comfort.
You must have looked like a fool, your lips parting more then a few times, words caught just at the edge of your throat but none of them coming out.
"I'm sorry!", you finally blurted out, the uncomfortable silence finally forcing you to break and speak up.
If he was suprised by your words, you didn't notice, his eyes only widening for a split second, an almost manic grin spreading across his face. "Oh! And what are you sorry for little Avenger?"
He was mocking you, the word Avenger spat out like an insult, though you supposed he did see it as one. You forced yourself to ignore just how hard his words hit you, lifting your head in a false display of confidence instead, for the first time since you arrived getting a good look at him.
"I wanted to apologize for Sokovia, actually. What happened after that was awful and the things you did unforgivable-"
He cut you off, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. "You really know how to apologize, must be the Avengers ego, making you believe that insulting me is a decent apology."
You found yourself biting your tongue, half tempted to snap back. Instead you just shook your head, your voice a bit harder then before.
"You know what? You're right, this has nothing to do with what you did but with what we, the Avengers did. And I know you don't care and my words won't change what happened in Sokovia, but I am sorry. I'm not sorry for stopping Ultron, in the only way we could at the time... but I am sorry for the way I left Sokovia after that, for not going back once the fight was over to help fix the mess that I was a part of creating."
This time Zemo did look surprised, and you couldn't tell if it was because you had said he was right or because of your apology. Or maybe a mix of both.
You were a little shocked by your words as well, despite thinking them over in your head for the past several months. Months ago, when you had first gotten the idea of apologizing it had been a much more general apology, a standard 'the Avengers are sorry for what they did but it was for the greater good' sort of apology. One that had spilled out of your mouth way too many times to really mean anything.
"If we are beeing honest here-", once again it was Zemo's voice that snapped you out of your head, embarresed to be caught spacing out twice already, "you or any member of your team coming there wouldn't have been enough."
It was the harsh truth of what he said that made you tear up. And what a pitiful sight you must have made, even the darkness of the cell not enough to cover the hurt expression on your face.
Zemo must have felt some pity on you because his voice was far more gentle then you could have ever imagined when he continued talking, "I am not trying to be cruel here. Your apology, while too late is appreciated."
And more then anyone else had bothered to give him, went unsaid but clearly thought by you both.
"But you must also know, that an apology, while appreciated, will never be quite enough. When people hold the power you and your team once did, making a mess and saying 'sorry our bad' won't change a thing, won't bring back a single person killed." His words weren't kind, but they weren't meant to hurt you either, you knew that.
So when only ten minutes later you left the prison, you left if with hope.
Hope for the future.
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Here with you
bucky barnes x f!reader
summary: reader accompanies bucky when he tells yori about what he did
This time he wasn’t going to be a coward, he told himself. He will tell Yori what happened. You were very proud of him when he told you. But you made sure that he didn’t felt pressured to do so. He didn’t. He had gathered the courage but he needed you by his side, he told you. He was strong but not strong enough to do it alone, he had told you.
You both were currently in front of Yori’s door. Bucky hesitated to knock but you reassured him, caressing your thumb over his hand. Yori greeted you both with a surprised smile. Before he could speak, Bucky interrupted him.
“Yori, there’s something I have to tell you.”
“Yes, uh, please come in.”
“Thank you.” You and Bucky said.
“And who is this beautiful young maiden?” The man asked as soon as you entered his apartment. Bucky brought up your intertwined hands to his lips and softly kissed your knuckles before replying.
“She’s my girlfriend.”
“I’m guessing it didn’t work out with the girl from Izzy’s, eh?”
“Not exactly.” Bucky shook his head, lamenting the poor girl because he just really didn’t have any sort of connection with her. Not like the one he had with you.
“I guess it all works out for the best, huh?” It was true. You had met the girl, she was lovely but they both came to the conclusion that they were from two different worlds.
“Yeah.” Bucky said, admiring your beauty before asking if they could all sit down. Yori agreed and showed them to his green velvet couch.
So that’s how you two ended up sitting down in Yori’s couch. The small old man was currently sitting across from the couple in an armchair. Bucky was very nervous. He could feel his anxiety in every single inch of his body, threatening to make him run. But he was stronger than his fears, he told himself just as you once did. You could sense how tense he was, so before he spoke you made sure he knew you were here for him, and would always be. You made this known by placing your hand on top of his, which was currently resting in his lap.
He glanced up at you and gave you a sad smile. He placed his metal hand on top of yours, you nodded to him one last time before he began talking.
“I killed your son.” The man’s eyes were full of terror and shock. Bucky continued and took off one of his gloves and ripped his jacket sleeve. I was The Winter Soldier. HYDRA ordered me to kill so..” He paused, this was too much for him. “I had to kill when I didn’t want to. I was on a mission and then there was this man, and I couldn’t leave him alive after he’d seen everything. Yori, I am so, so sorry.”
“That’s enough!” The old man shouted, making both of you jump. “Get out!
“Yori-” Bucky tried.
“I said get out!” The man yelled louder as he stood up, making you and Bucky also get up from your seat. “You are the most evil person I have met. And you made me believe you were good.”
“Get the hell out of here.” You grabbed Bucky’s hand and led the way, before the man practically closed the door in your face. Once you were on the other side of the wall, you looked up at Bucky, only to find silent tears streaming down his face.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Your heart broke into a million pieces. You grabbed his face and tilted it so he could look at you. He looked so vulnerable, so broken, the most sad you’ve ever seen him. You pulled his head down and kissed his forehead before continuing. “You did amazing, Buck. I’m so damn proud of you.”
“Did you see-”
“Yeah, but trust me, baby. His anger will pass away alright? I know it, deep down in my heart. I’m so proud for what you did.” You took his hand and knew that for the rest of the evening, he would feel terrible, but you were there by his side. For today and always.
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They Can’t Take That Away From Me (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)
Hello again! It is with great excitement that I present you all with the first part of the “Love Goes” sequel! I’m still trying to come up with a name (suggestions welcome lol).
A good amount of dialogue from Wandavision is used here since it felt necessary to set the story up. Songs used are “They Can’t Take That Away From Me” by Frank Sinatra (1954) and “Lego House” by Ed Sheeran (2011). Let me know what you think!
Summary: What is life like for Y/n and Wanda in the 1950s? And what shenanigans will they be getting into?
There was an odd sensation of confusion as Wanda looked around the home. Now that you had gone to work she wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself. Even though you had only been gone a moment, she couldn’t help the excitement that built within her at the thought of you walking through the door again.
Much to Wanda’s relief, she wasn’t left alone with her thoughts long as an unexpected knock on the front door caught her attention. With furrowed brows she made her way over to the front door and opened it. A hesitant smile appeared on her face as a woman holding a plant smiled brightly back at her.
“Hello, dear. I’m Agnes. Your neighbor to the right. My right, not yours.” The woman informed her cheerfully as she made her way into the home before Wanda could even get a word out. “Forgive me for not stopping by sooner to welcome you. My mother-in-law was in town… So, I wasn’t.”
The sound of laughter floated into Wanda’s ears as she smiled back at Agnes who offered her the plant which she graciously accepted. Agnes began speaking again before Wanda got the chance. “So, what’s your name? Where are you from? And most importantly, how’s your bridge game, hon?”
The woman wandered further into the home as Wanda closed the door and rushed over to her, the smile of a perfect hostess never falling from her lips. “I’m Wanda.” She replied politely as she offered her a hand.
Agnes took her offered hand and shook it lightly. “Wanda. Charmed.” She looked around. “Golly! You settled in fast. Did you use a moving company?”
With wide eyes, Wanda turned and placed the plant on the table. “I sure did. Those boxes don’t move themselves.” She replied lightly, the polite smile returning to her face as laughter once again floated around her.
“So, what’s a single gal like you doing rattling around this big house?”
Wanda waved her hand dismissively. That was something she certainly wasn’t. “Oh no, I’m not single.”
Agnes titled her head slightly in surprise. “Oh, I don’t see a ring.”
Glancing down at her finger for a moment, Wanda furrowed her brow before snapping her head back up to meet Agnes’ eyes. The smile never wavering. “I assure you. I’m married. To a woman. A wonderful woman. A writer at that!”
“A woman?” Agnes asked excitedly. “How nifty! Where exactly is your special lady?” She questioned as she took a seat on the couch.
Wanda’s smile changed slightly and become something softer as she thought of you fondly. A change she didn’t even notice herself as she settled into the space next to Agnes. “She’s off at work. Meeting with her editor today.” She said, a proud tinge to her voice.
“Well, that’s exciting!” Agnes exclaimed, “It must be a dream to be married to a writer! Maybe she can teach my Ralph a thing or two on how to romance a woman.”
A bashful smile spread across Wanda’s lips. “I can’t speak for other writers, but mine certainly is a dream.”
Agnes gestured to the round table in front of them. “So, what’s the occasion today?”
For a moment Wanda merely stared at Agnes with confusion. Until her eyes fell to the calendar on the table which had a heart drawn in the box for the day’s date. The calendar which she oddly hadn’t noticed until that moment. “Well, it’s a special occasion, of course! Y/n must have left it there for me to find.”
Excitedly, Agnes leaned forward. “Is it someone’s birthday?”
“Not a birthday.” Wanda replied with a shake of her head, she knew that couldn’t be it.
In response, Agnes’ own eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Well, today isn’t a holiday, is it?”
“No, not a holiday…”
“An anniversary then?”
“Y-… Yes!” Wanda agreed quickly as she pointed at Agnes in recognition. “Yes, it’s our anniversary!”
Agnes reached out to take Wanda’s hands with an enthusiastic smile. “Oh, how marvelous! How many years?”
For a moment Wanda hesitated, something told her that answer wasn’t a simple one. “Well… it feels like we’ve always been together.”
“How romantic! So… what do you have planned?” Agnes questioned.
“How do you mean?”
Agnes chuckled as if Wanda’s reply amused her. “For your special night! A young thing like you doesn’t have to do much, but it’s still fun to set the scene!”
A nervous look came across Wanda’s features as she considered Agnes’ words. Before she could reply, Agnes interrupted again. “Oh! I have the perfect article to help us plan!” She said eagerly as she rushed to the door. “This is gonna be a gas!”
Wanda turned away from the door with a dreamy smile as thoughts of spending a romantic evening with you filled her mind.
The shout startled you, and the clacking sounds that floated from your typewriter ground to a halt as you jumped up and turned towards the sound of the voice. “Yes, sir?”
“My office. Now.” The curly haired man huffed as he turned on his heel to go back in the direction that he came.
Your desk mate, who’s name you couldn’t seem to remember, why couldn’t you remember, turned to you with a sympathetic smile as he pat your shoulder. “Tough luck, pal. Looks like boss man isn’t in good mood today.”
A tight, nervous smile was all you could muster as you quickly shuffled all your papers into your arms, grabbing your notebook as you left. With hesitant feet you stepped into the office. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
The curly haired man gestured to the empty seat in front of his desk as he lit a cigar. You sat with a nervous smile. “Just wanted to check in and make sure you’re ready for your dinner with Hart tonight. One of the biggest publishers in town. Sign with Hart, then you’re set for life, kid.”
“Of course, I am.” You replied quickly, even though you had no idea what meeting he was talking about.
“You better be, kid, or else you’re done. I took a chance on you. Don’t make me regret it.” Through a puff of smoke, he gestured you out of his office which you didn’t hesitate to take.
Hurriedly you ran over to the phone on your desk, dialing in the only number you knew. A sigh of relief escaped your lips when an answer floated through the receiver on the second ring. “Wanda, darling, I was just calling to see if you were prepared for tonight.”
“Why, of course, dear. I have everything under control.” Came her easy reply.
You breathed a sigh of relief as your shoulders dropped. “So, you know?”
The sound of her light laughter filled your ears, making you smile. “Well, when I saw the calendar I just figured.”
“That’s a relief… I must admit, I am rather nervous.”
After a brief pause, Wanda replied. “Nervous? Whatever for?”
With a quick glance back in the direction of the office, you answered. “Well you know situations like this always make me jittery, darling. It’s a tad nerve wracking.”
“Oh, Y/n. After all this time?”
Nervously you began playing with the cord of the phone, barely even processing her words. “I think there’s a lot depending on this, Wanda. If tonight doesn’t go well, I think this could be the end.”
Another glance back at the office showed your boss yelling at your desk mate. “Well, it’s just one night. There’s no need to get dramatic.”
Again, your nerves made it difficult for you to process her words. “With you at the helm, I know everything will go well. Until tonight, my darling. I love you.”
The smile in her voice was obvious as she responded. “Until tonight. I love you.”
When you placed the phone back on the receiver, you couldn’t help but notice the song playing from the radio, something about a star-spangled man. A thought felt as though it was forming in your mind before the song was abruptly cut out, and a new song drifted out of the radio.
“We may never never meet again, on that bumpy road to love, still I'll always, always keep the memory of…”
When you entered your home, you couldn’t help the confusion that appeared at the sight of the clearly romantic atmosphere that was set up. The lights were dimmed, and candles were spread throughout the room.
“Wanda?” You called out hesitantly, placing your briefcase and the papers in your arms off to the side of the entryway.
The woman in question sauntered in the room with a coy smile on her face. “Hello, darling.” She made her way over to you and draped her arms over your shoulders. “I missed you.” She whispered as she leaned closer.
Any thoughts that had previously occupied your mind vanished as every aspect of the woman before you invaded all your senses with ease. “Wow. Wanda… You look… breath taking.” You breathed out.
With loving arms, you pulled her closer as your fingertips skimmed over the soft and flimsy silk of the dress she had on. Like magnets your lips met in a tender embrace, a soft sigh escaping your lips at the sensation. Wanda pulled you closer fervently as her hands tangled into your hair.
A sharp knock at the front door startled you apart a moment later as your eyes widened with the realization of what you were supposed to be prepping for flooded back. “Hart!” You whisper yelled as you rushed to the mirror to fix your hair.
“Hart?” Wanda questioned in confusion.
“My publisher! I thought you knew?” You quickly turned to her, your confusion matching hers as another impatient knock appeared at the door. “I have to let them in!”
Wanda’s eyes widened. “Y/n, no! My dre-“ Her words were cut short as you had already opened the door, you own eyes widening when you realized what she was saying.
Without thinking you moved behind the man and covered his eyes with your hands, Wanda following your lead as she covered the eyes of the woman standing next to him. “Y/ln, what’s the meaning of this?” The man exclaimed as you looked over to Wanda with wide eyes.
With a snap of her fingers, the beautiful dress she was wearing seconds before was replaced with a much more modest one. You both removed your hands from the guests and stepped in front of them with sheepish smiles. “Well, you see, sir…” you trailed off as you attempted to think of a reasonable response.
“It’s a tradition Sokovian greeting!” Wanda exclaimed, you nodded enthusiastically, thankful for her save.
You smiled nervously, “Yes! It is a traditional Sokovian greeting of hospitality, sir. My wife is from Sokovia.” Nerves began to bubble in your chest which Wanda noticed as she took your hand to steady you which immediately eliminated any feelings of discomfort. You loved her so much.
The woman chuckled lightly. “How exotic.”
“Mr. Hart, this is my wife, Wanda. Wanda, this is Mr. Hart.” You introduced quickly to steer the conversation back to where it should be. “And this must be Mrs. Hart.” you offered your free hand to the younger woman standing next to Mr. Hart as Wanda dropped the other.
The woman took your hand with an amused smirk as she eyed you. “Are you insane? This is my daughter.” Mr. Hart said gruffly, “My wife is out of town at the moment. My daughter has an eye for quality, so I brought her along.”
“Eleanor Hart. You can call me Ellie.” The woman offered, as you uncomfortably took your hand back from her. There was something familiar about her, but you couldn’t put your finger on it.
Wanda walked off to pull a cloth off of one of the lampshades before taking your hand again. “Can I see you in the kitchen for a moment, sweetheart?”
“Excuse us.” You said quickly as Wanda was already dragging you out of the room. You blew out a candle along the way.
When you both reached the safety of the kitchen Wanda spun around to face you, “Who are those people?”
Instead of answering you asked your own question. “What was happening earlier?”
“Well, it’s our anniversary!”
A look of confusion quickly overtook your features. “Our anniversary of what?”
Wanda threw down the cloth still in her hands and sulked away. “Well if you don’t know I’m not going to tell you!”
“That man in there is Mr. Hart, my publisher! My editor set up this dinner for us, so we could discuss publishing my book.” You explained as you gestured vaguely to the window in the kitchen.
A look of realization crossed Wanda’s features as the disembodied laughter floated in the air again. “That must have been what the heart on the calendar meant.”
You took Wanda’s hand in your own, an apologetic look in your eyes. “Darling, this was so romantic to do. The candles, the music, that stunning dress…” You trailed off as your eyes glazed over at the thought. Wanda snapped her fingers in front of your face to get you to refocus. “Right. I don’t want to be unappreciative, but right now…”
“Your publisher and his touchy daughter are expecting a home-cooked meal?” She supplied helpfully.
You nodded sheepishly. “Exactly.”
Wanda glanced over at the table in the kitchen. “Any chance they’d settle for a chocolate covered strawberry split three ways?” Once again, the laughter floated through the air as you winced. “I might have a better idea.” Wanda announced as she ushered you out of the kitchen.
When the door to the kitchen swung shut behind you, Wanda rushed out the back door as you made your way over to Mr. Hart and Ellie so you could attempt to entertain them for the time being. It wasn’t long before commotion in the kitchen caught the guest’s attention which you were able to distract them from.
The second time the commotion began it seemed as though there would be no distracting Ellie.
“Maybe I should see if Wanda needs help while you and my father discuss business. I sense trouble.” Ellie announced as she made her way over to the closed shutters that looked into the kitchen.
Nervously you stood up as the commotion in the kitchen continued. “Ellie, I insist you don’t-“ The woman kept moving forward though and eventually opened the shutters which you could see into as she was opening them. The sight wouldn’t be one that would be easy to explain as practically everything in the kitchen was floating around Wanda.
Thinking quickly, you sang the first and only song that came to your mind to distract them. “I’m out of touch, I’m out of love, I’ll pick you up when you’re getting down. And-”
As soon as the song began falling from your lips both of the Harts began turning in your direction, only they seemed to be frozen mid turn.
“-out of all these things I’ve done, I think I love you better now.” You murmured along to the lyrics that were drifting out of the speaker at your feet as you swayed lightly to the slow tempo of the song. Your eyes stayed locked on the woman in your arms.
The arms that were circled around your midsection tightened as Wanda lifted her head from your shoulder to meet your eyes. The look in her eyes was staggering. You had almost forgotten what oxygen was when Wanda was near. You didn’t care though, you’d happily stop breathing if it meant she was by your side. She was a different kind of air.
Wanda grazed her palm along your cheekbone. You easily leaned into her touch. “You never gave me a choice, you know?” Wanda whispered even though she didn’t need to.
“A choice for what?”
“Loving you. It’s as easy as breathing. You are a part of me. I’ll never be able to love someone else.” The words fell from her lips so easily and you couldn’t help the way your heart beat heavily against your ribcage as though it were trying to get to her.
Closing the short distance, you connected your lips to hers. “Loving you was never a choice. It was a necessity.” You mumbled against her lips.
Wanda pulled back and just stared at you adoringly. “If I could go back, I would love you longer.” Your brows furrowed, you didn’t know why but you knew the response was out of place. “There’s never been anyone but you. Never. Not before, not now, and not in the future.” Wanda whispered fiercely as the compound around you began to fade and you both drifted away as pieces of the living room began to form again…
Suddenly the Harts completed their turn and stared at you in shock. You glanced up at Wanda in confusion, seeing the kitchen appliances still floating around her. You didn’t know what just happened and you hoped she’d be able to offer clarity.
When you met Wanda’s eyes though they were filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite register… except you could. It was pain. Before you could react, she waved a hand and the shutters closed once again.
“Golly, what tune was that you were just singing there?” Ellie questioned excitedly, “It sure was nice.”
You smiled politely, unsure how to answer the question yourself. “Just something I heard a long time ago.”
“A writer and a singer? Your wife sure is a lucky gal.” Ellie replied with a wink
The flirtatious comment made you shift uncomfortably where you stood. “The lucky one is definitely me. Wanda is heaven sent. Perfecti-”
“When is dinner going to be ready?” Ellie questioned abruptly, interrupting the day dreamy look in your eyes as you spoke of Wanda. “My head is spinning.” She added as she leaned on you for support.
Mr. Hart marched over to you as you nervously used your hand to fan his daughter. “Do you hear that? My daughters head is spinning. Generally speaking, I don’t like her head to do that.” You winced. Ellie leaned further into you, forcing you to use your arms to support her.
The lecture Mr. Hart was giving you continued. “You know, I’m beginning to think you aren’t worth publishing. I had high hopes for you after speaking to your editor. From what I’ve seen here tonight, you can barely keep it together. Look around there’s all this chaos in your househo-“
“Dinner is served.” Wanda interrupted as she stood by the table with an uneasy smile, her eyes expressing her discontent at Ellie’s position even if she didn’t say it.
Mr. Hart turned to eye the table as you breathed a sigh of relief. “Breakfast for dinner, how very…”
“European?” Ellie finished with an entertained smile, still leaning on you.
Thankful for the lighter shift in atmosphere, you quickly moved away from Ellie and rushed over to the table. “Let’s have a toast!”
Everyone gathered around the table. “To my lovely and talented wife.” You stared at Wanda adoringly as you raised your glass.
“To our esteemed guests.” Wanda countered with a smirk as everyone around the table clinked glasses. “Well, please, eat before it gets cold.”
Everyone took a seat around the table. “So, where did you two move from? What brought you here? How long have you been married?” Ellie rapidly spouted off.
The polite smile on Wanda’s face faltered slightly as she seemed to ponder the questions. You chuckled nervously. “I think what my wife means to say is w-we moved from-”
“Yes, we moved from…” Wanda interrupted only to pause in thought.
“And we were married…” You stopped as well to think of the answer, why couldn’t you think of the answer. You picked up a fork to keep your hands occupied.
“Yes, yes, we were married…” Wanda looked at you, confusion in her eyes.
“Well, moved from where? Married when?” Mr. Hart asked impatiently.
Ellie pushed the food around her plate. She seemed amused at the situation. “Patience, Dad. They’re setting up their story. Let them tell it.”
“Our story…” Wanda began again, a nervous chuckle escaped her lips.
Mr. Hart looked between the two of you in annoyance. “Yes, what exactly is your story? I think it’s a perfectly simple question.”
Wanda stared blankly at the table as you felt a pressure begin to build in your temples. You held back a grimace.
The walls in the room began to feel suffocating and the dress you had on felt constricting. Your breathing became heavier as your continued to desperately search your mind for something, anything. A memory that existed before this morning. The floor around the table began to splinter slightly as the fork in your hand folded in on itself.
“Honestly, why did you come here? Why?” Mr. Hart slammed his hand on the table causing you both to jump. Your thoughts were racing as you wracked your brain for the answers to his questions but kept coming up blank.
A large crack in the floor appeared by Mr. Hart’s chair as he fell back, stuck on the edge, frozen in fear.
Ellie smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Dad, stop it.” The gap by the table widened as Mr. Hart teetered precariously on the edge, still frozen in shock. “Stop it.” She repeated.
Wanda’s eyes widened in concern as you vaguely saw wisps float over to the gap but do nothing. The pressure in your head became even stronger as the world around you became more difficult to register.
“Stop it. Stop it.” Ellie kept repeating as she turned her attention to Wanda. Mr. Hart hanging over the gap by his fingers.
“Y/n. Help him.” Wanda said assertively as the racing in your mind came to a halt. You stared at the scene before you in horror. With subtle wave of your fingers, the gap closed as Mr. Hart was once again on flat ground.
You rushed over to help him. “Let me help you up.”
When he was once again on his feet, Mr. Hart glanced at his watch. “Well, would you look at the time.”
“We better be going.” Ellie added as she stood up.
Wanda looked at them both cautiously, the polite smile making a reappearance, but much more tentative than before. “Are you both alright?”
“We had such a lovely time.” Ellie wandered over to you and shook your hand once again a moment too long, the flirtatious smile returning.
With an uncomfortable smile, you pulled your hand back and made your way over to Mr. Hart. “You made me proud tonight. First thing Monday morning, I’ll make a call to your editor and let him know we have a deal.”
The final remnants of confusion faded away at his words as you eagerly shook his hand with a broad smile. “Yes, sir. Thank you.” Wanda let them both out as you each leaned against the closest object near you and breathed a sigh of relief.
After taking a moment to collect, you both wandered over to the couch. You easily wrapped an arm around her. “You know, we are an unusual couple.” Wanda stated.
“Oh, I don’t think that was ever in question.” You replied as the disembodied laughter rang out again.
Wanda leaned into you, “We don’t have an anniversary… or even wedding rings.”
You rubbed her arm soothingly. “Well, today could be our anniversary.” You offered.
“Of what? Surviving our first dinner party?” She questioned with an amused smile.
You chuckled. “Precisely.”
“And the wedding rings?” She asked.
“Well, couldn’t you make some for us?” You questioned as you held out a hand, smiling when she mimicked your action.
With a wave of her finger, beautiful rings appeared on both of your ring fingers. “I do.” You said softly before turning your head to look at her. “Do you?”
“Of course. I do.” Wanda replied tenderly as she intertwined your fingers. The disembodied voices cooed.
“And they lived happily ever after.”
“And we have a happy ending.” Wanda whispered. A brief flash of something flickered in Wanda’s eyes, but before you could analyze she leaned in and lovingly connected her lips with yours in a sweet kiss.
As the credits rolled there was a brief moment of silence as everyone stared at the screen. “I told you star-spangled man wouldn’t work. This is the 50s, not the 40s.” Darcy said pointedly.
The sound of a soft thud filled the room from Natasha hitting the back of Steve’s head. “I thought it would be close enough.” Steve grumbled as he rubbed the back of his head.
Fury stared at the screen intensely. “I know that woman, but how did she get there.” He mumbled more to himself than the people in the room. “I think I know someone who we can send in.” He eventually addressed the room.
They all turned to look at him. “Let’s do it. Rogers ideas obviously aren’t working.” Natasha answered as Steve crossed his arms in annoyance.
There it is! Part 1 of the “Love Goes” sequel. This one felt a little constricted by the episode because a lot of it still felt necessary as it introduced the newer characters which is why a lot of dialogue from the first episode was used here. The italicized portion was a memory in case that was a little confusing. Also “Star-Spangled Man” is from the first captain America movie lol. I’m actually kind of excited about this though! As always, let me know your thoughts, they’re always welcome!
P.s. I pictured Emma Watson as Ellie because Emma Watson. :)
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Summary: You lift Mjolnir.
Avengers x reader
Word count: 393
Tony had organised yet another party and as a new avenger you had to be there. It had been going on for a few hours now and you were quite frankly getting tired off all these people here.
After another hour or so the people had finally left and it was just you and the avengers sitting on a few sofas spread around the room. You were sitting between Nat and Clint listening to the other guys talk about random topics, none of which you were very interested in.
“I still don’t trust the whole ‘lift the hammer and you are worthy’ thing” Tony said to Thor, pointing at Mjolnir. “Right? You can put the hammer in an elevator and it will move, but the elevator isn’t worthy!” Clint exclaimed.
Thor laughed loudly “go ahead, try” he told them. Everyone looked around before Clint sighed “alright”. He got up and walked over to where Mjolnir was set on the table. He put his hands around the handle before pulling. The hammer didn’t move, nothing happened. You and Nat laughed at his awful attempt to lift Mjolnir.
Tony laughed as well making Clint point towards it with his hands. Tony shrugged and got up saying some things about how it’s all science and what not. Yet he too, failed. Even with the suit and Rhodey helping, nothing helped. Once again you laughed.
Tony gave up with a sigh before looking at you. “You know if it’s so funny why don’t you try” he said looking at you with raised eyebrows, a challenge. You looked at Nat who nodded towards Mjolnir. “Alright” you got up and walked towards the table. Thor leaned on his knees getting a closer look.
Nat and Maria looked at each other before smiling. You shook your arms out before putting your hands around the handle. Taking a deep breath you shake your head and pulled, falling to the floor as you used way too much force.
You were met with silence, that was until Nat said “I knew it” making you look at her in shock. Looking down at your hands you saw Mjolnir sitting there comfortably. You stood up still holding onto it. You looked at Thor who was smiling at you before standing up. Walking to you and putting his hand on your shoulders. “You are worthy y/n”
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Testing. Testing. | Wanda Maximoff
Summary; Wanda is stuck in Westview, and you try your best efforts to get through to her. But to no avail does it work, there is something larger at play other than Wanda’s wishful thinking.
Warnings; angst, reader being smarter than everyone else and realising who the villain is
Jimmy passed you the mic, your eyes were trained on Wanda through the old fashioned screen that Darcy had requested. It pained you to see Wanda trying to have a happy life with Vision, for her dimensional façade was all an act. She had created the ‘Hex’, as Darcy had dubbed it, to keep everything that could bring her pain out, she just wanted a make believe heaven, that nobody could take away from her.
“This has to work.” You sighed as you watched the Sokovian woman through the glass, finding no humour in her sitcom. The false laughter was only there to mask the true pain that was breaking her heart, and you could physically feel her loss.
“You’re an avenger, if it doesn’t, I’m sure you’ll think of something else.” Darcy prompted, but the encouragement of being a hero no longer meant anything. The team was split, members of it dead or retired, there was nothing left other than you to scavenge what you could of your past life, and you were to start with Wanda.
These agents and employees thought that Wanda was being controlled, but you knew her. This was all her, it was her escape, her haven from the rest of the world, and you couldn’t blame her for it, the only thing that you held her responsible for was leaving you to spring up this other reality
You were sure Stephen would be disappointed by her outlet, she was colliding things together that were supposed to be far apart, but for now, he was the least of your worries.
“I’m not an avenger.” You spoke, it was a past title, a name that had its fair share of wearing. Now, you were someone who cared wanting to help someone you cared about. “What do I say?”
“Anything, to make her realise that all this isn’t real.” Wu told you, and you shook your head slightly. She already knew, and knew well she did.
With a vice grip, you held onto the technology, bringing it up to your mouth. For a moment you said nothing, only breathed, and then, you pressed the button on the side, making the static in Wanda’s make belief kitchen fizzle from static.
“Wanda, can you hear me?” Her intrigue carried her over to the old box, through the black and white screen, you could see a glazing to her eyes. It was not the glass, she was tearful from hearing your voice alone. “Wanda.”
“Y/n.” She whispered gently, her voice sounding like butter from the television speakers. And then it went static for a moment, and when she came back to digital life, she was oblivious to your calling of her name.
It wasn’t just her in there, someone was muting you out, isolating Wanda from anything she cared about. “Wanda.” You tried a final time, but the sound of your voice fell on deaf ears.
Wanda continued to cause laughter upon the screen, as though there were a live audience seated around the area she was in. There was something there, and as her neighbour burst through the door, you could only squint.
It was her, it had to be. There was never an episode that did not feature the acclaimed status, she had blocked you out. It left you with no choice, you would have to go into the Hex.
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Natasha: every time I’m confronted with a problem and feel desperate and helpless, I look at a picture of all of us together.
The rest of the avengers: awww–
Natasha: and I tell myself, if I can survive living with those dumbass clowns, it means I can handle every problem.
The rest of the avengers:
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when you’re gone
stephen strange x reader
Summary: Where the reader is married to Stephen Strange and must process his disappearance after Infinity War, and his return after Endgame.
Word Count: 2.9k
Warnings: Mentions of death
a/n: This is just a sad, but fluffy one shot. I’m going to try and keep writing one shots for Stephen until I’m sick of him (which will be never so...)
stephen strange masterlist
When we're children, five years seems like a lifetime away. We're eleven, but we can't wait until our sweet sixteen. The tween awkwardness appears to last a lifetime, and when we do finally blow out those sixteen candles, eleven-years-old starts to feel like something we never really lived. But as we grow older, five years feels like a blink away. We go to sleep as that sixteen-year-old and wake up twenty-one ordering our first cocktail at the bar, and then turn around, and we're twenty-six years old trying to figure out our place in the world. And the older we get, the more fleeting time becomes.
You felt like that child again.
Time seemed to slow down even though the seasons changed as they should. Leaves went from green to brilliant shades of orange and yellow before falling delicately to the ground. Life seemed to go on, but five years without him were stagnant, painful, and felt hypnogogic. Everything seemed to move slowly from the cars in the city to the people walking on the sidewalks. You wondered how they could just go on with their day while you felt like your entire world was turned upside down. But then again, you weren't alone in your suffering. Everyone left on Earth had lost someone, if not multiple loved ones.
Usually during times of grief, the spring seemed more promising. It was a time of new beginnings, a time of rebirth as flowers bloomed and the leaves were again painted a vivid green against the blue skies. It was the time for birds to sing, for moderate rainfalls that made you want to curl up with a good book. But you didn't feel that way during the spring. Not anymore. It was spring when he disappeared, spring when you said those awful words to each other. It was an everlasting imprint on your mind, and when you died, they would cut you open and find it engraved on your heart. You could remember the petty argument so vividly in your mind, and you hated that the last words before Bruce Banner went flying into the Sanctum were unpleasant ones.
Wong had told you he was captured and taken to a ship. You were angry with Wong for leaving him. "I have to protect the Sanctum." He had told you. You didn't understand at the time, and you just needed someone to blame when really you were just angry with yourself for fighting with him in the first place. You waited impatiently, staring out of the Sanctum window looking over the city. You waited with your fist held over your thrumming heart. He never came home. Slowly people turned to dust, and he still never returned from wherever he was taken, and you wondered if he was killed or if he just turned into nothing like everyone else.
"Where were you?" He asked just as you opened the door. Your husband was standing there waiting for you with his threadbare blue tunic and crimson cloak hanging over his shoulders.
You shook the umbrella outside the Sanctum door before dropping it into the mahogany umbrella stand. "Why are you even asking me that?" You snapped, your tone sour. You were irritated already, and that anger was carrying over into your conversation with Stephen. Of course, it had nothing to do with him. Not really.
He looked taken back by your snippy comeback, and his blue eyes darted around the lobby briefly as if to gather his next words. "Did I do something wrong?" His tone was beginning to match yours.
This made your ire rise. You turned to face him, lips thinned into a tight smile, and you blinked at him incredulously, "I told you I had plans tonight. I feel like you never actually listen to me when I tell you things."
His mouth fell open, and he raised his hand as if to anchor his thoughts, "Wait—"He shook his head in disbelief, "You said your plans were Friday night. Today is Thursday. It's not that I don't listen. You just told me the wrong day."
No. You could have sworn you told him Thursday, but then a tiny part of you wondered if perhaps you did confuse your days. Your plans were originally Friday, but you switched it to Thursday last minute because of conflicting schedules. But no, you had to be correct, "No, Stephen, I'm sure I said today. I know when I made plans."
He just scoffed at this, "Okay. But even so, you didn't even tell me you were leaving. I was worried about you, and you didn't answer your phone."
You pulled the phone from your coat pocket and looked down at the screen. Perhaps you had missed calls from him, but you never would see them because by the time you checked your phone, it had died halfway through your plans. "My phone is dead."
"Typical." He shook his head at you, "Did you even charge it before you left?"
"No. I forgot. I'm sorry I had a lot to do today, and my phone's battery life was the least of my worries."
“Y/N, I was just worried about you. I really don't know why you're getting so defensive—"He paused, giving you a once over, "unless you were doing something you weren't supposed to."
That was the final straw. You glared at him, your eyes squinting at him along with your mouth hanging open in pure astonishment, "Yes, we've just been married one month, and I'm already cheating on you. That's exactly what I'm doing, Stephen."
"Already? So it is something I have to look forward to in the future? I'm starting to wonder who I even married." He snapped back, his own anger rising as he stepped closer to you.
Stephen was the jealous type. It was cute sometimes, but at the moment, it just made you despise him. "You know what. I don't have to put up with this. I'm going to bed. I'm tired." You brushed past him, refusing to look him in the eyes.
His face morphed into disgust, "Yeah, I bet you are."
You stopped on the first step, your hands tightening on the rail. His words cut deep like he shoved a dagger right into your back and twisted it all while wearing a grin on his face. You swallowed the lump in your throat and turned to look at him with watery eyes, "Find a different room to sleep in. I can't even look at you right now."
"The feeling is very, very mutual." He spat back before turning on his heels and taking his exit toward the left of the stairs, disappearing into a different room.
You felt tears begin to spill, and you ran up the stairs and toward your bedroom. You felt it was your fault, yet his words hurt too much for you to even admit that to him. Maybe you didn't have a reason to be irritated with him at first, but now you did, and you didn't think you could forgive him so easily.
You sighed as the terrible memory plagued your mind. Stephen didn't deserve the way you treated him that night. Your outing didn't go as planned, and you took that frustration out on him the moment you walked in. He was just worried about you, and obviously, there was some miscommunication, but that happens in every relationship, whether it romantic or not. You both handled the situation poorly—feeding off of each other's anger like a ridiculous ping pong match between two stubborn fools. You'd give anything to go back that night and smile at him upon entering the Sanctum. Tell him your woes and fall into his arms like you always did and bask in his comfort. You hated yourself for not doing that. Why did you snap at him, and why did you allow your anger to get the best of you? You could blame the rain and the fact that you nearly slipped on your way into the Sanctum. But your sour mood was all on you.
You never said you were sorry. Stephen slept in the room down the corridor, and you hardly spoke a word to each other since your fight. That was five years ago, and he was gone now, and there was nothing you could do to take back what happened. If you could have one moment with him, one more second, you would tell him you loved him, and you were sorry, but it was useless to dwell on a fantasy you knew would never happen. People didn't come back from the dead and what was written was final, and there was nothing you could do to change it. Not even magic could bring back your husband from the state of non-existence that he slipped into.
You nearly moved out from the Sanctum after Stephen disappeared. It was too hard at first, too painful to dwell within the walls of the place you two called home. But after a while, you started to take comfort in everything. The stairs were fixed, and the window too. Stephen would appreciate that. You released a long sigh before walking down into the lobby. A walk was very much on your mind. The air was cool outside as a gentle breeze passed through the city. You hardly went out since his untimely death with everything feeling so hazy around you. You two were only married a month, which was the happiest month of your life. You hardly fought with each other, which makes that night so hard to get over.
You met Stephen not too long after he took over as master of the New York Sanctum. You never really dated each other. Stephen wasn't much for dates, and you knew a lot of that had to do with how busy he was and how he hardly left the Sanctum without protection. You accidentally fell in love, and once you both realized it, marriage just felt right. It was a small ceremony, nothing extravagant, and that was how you both wanted it. You discussed kids once or twice, but you both weren't sure you were ready for that kind of commitment, especially with how dangerous your lives were. You were just glad to have each other.
You felt a painful twist in your heart and exhaled a shaky breath. You were told by many friends to move on. "He's gone," they'd say, "It's time to start dating again." You felt like it would be cheating if you did that. You knew he was never coming back, but dating another person felt wrong, and you didn't think you could ever move past him. He was your fairytale, and you could never find that kind of love again. You looked up from your musings to see an old couple walking together. The woman was hunched over, a purple butterfly cane in her right hand while her left was entwined with the elderly man strolling beside her. You wondered if they had just found each other after the blip or if they've been together forever. You liked to think it was the latter, and they were one of the lucky ones. Even still, the old couple made you feel even lonelier in your widowed youth.
Your steps took you in arbitrary directions—not really having a location in mind. Finally, you just walked until you made a full circle back to the Sanctum. The moment you entered, you felt a chill down your spine at the sudden realization that you were very much alone. "Wong?" You called out. After a quick search, you realized he was gone. It was odd for him to leave the Sanctum unprotected, and he must have known you left as well. Stephen never trained you in the Mystic Arts, but once he—and more than half the sorcerers vanished after the blip—Wong felt it necessary to teach you. With his sudden absence, you knew it was your responsibility to stay put until he returned.
You sighed wearily, your feet achy from the walk and your eyes heavy with grief. Five years and you still found yourself needing to cry in the evenings. You made your way to your room, kicking off your shoes and falling back onto the bed you once shared with Stephen. You always left his side made up, refusing to sleep there. It hurt too damn much. Curling your body onto the comforter, you covered yourself with a throw blanket and closed your eyes, and you were asleep before your tears could even fall.
Night had fell over the Sanctum and you were roused from your slumber suddenly, the feeling of something warm pressed against your cheek. You exhaled shakily. You've had this dream before. You'd wake to find him there with you, talking to you calmly while gently stroking your hair. But it was always just a dream, and then you'd wake up and erupt into uncontrollable sobs. The hand brushed your hair from your face, and you sighed, hoping you would remain asleep just a little longer. Just enough to see him.
"Y/N." His voice was soft, but it wasn't real.
"Hmmm." You hummed before turning on your pillow to meet his familiar gaze. Those eyes never failed to make your heart melt. For a dream, he seemed so real. "Please don't let me wake up." You murmured, "I just want to look at you a moment longer."
He let out an airy chuckle, "I'm not a dream. I'm right here." He whispered as he continued to stroke your hair.
No, he was a dream, and he would always remain as such. You just stared at his perfect face. He had a cut along his cheek and one on his lower lip. Dirt was smattered over his features, and his clothes also appeared damp in certain places. You couldn't help but wonder why he even looked like this in your dream. You attempted to sit up, and he removed his hand from your hair. "I honestly need to stop drinking so much caffeine. My dreams are getting weird." You murmured to the imaginary Stephen.
He released a long sigh before taking your face in his hands, "Y/N, you're not dreaming." He said again. His hands felt so real it was almost too good to be true. "The Avengers collected the stones again, and Bruce Banner snapped everyone back. I had Wong gather everyone together, but you weren't here. We fought Thanos once again, but this time we won," He sighed, "Do you understand?" His thumb brushed against your cheekbone.
"Just a dream…." You muttered more to yourself as you looked into his cerulean gaze. "Just wake up." You felt your lower lip begin to tremble. This wasn't a dream. It was a nightmare. It was your subconscious fabricating some fantasy where The Avengers reversed everything, and you knew you would wake up alone in the dark, quiet of your bedroom without him.
His hand dropped from your face, and you felt a pinch just below your lounge shorts on your bare thigh. You jumped, wincing at the sudden sting against your leg to see your imaginary husband had pinched you. Evidence of a red mark appeared on your skin, and you reached down to massage the pain away. "That hurt—"You complained, meeting his gaze once again. Then it clicked. Your mouth fell open, and your eyes widened in disbelief before you reached up to press your shaky fingers against his face. "Stephen?"
He gave a firm nod, "Yes. I'm really here." His eyes searched yours desperately as if he was waiting for you to realize he was very much real.
Your hand pressed against his cheek, and you could feel the warmth of his skin and smell the earthy scent exuding from him, mingled with fresh water and sweat. But then, threatening tears began to bubble up in your eyes, "That's impossible."
He took your hand from his cheek, turning your palm inwards to place a soft kiss there, "Just feel me. I can't be a dream." He murmured against your skin, and the tears spilled over, falling freely down your cheeks, and you lunged forward to throw your arms around him. You gripped the hair at the nape of his neck for dear life, burying your nose into his shoulder. His arms tightened around you, pulling you flush against him and he rocked you back and forth as you sobbed into his tunic. For you it’s been five years, but for him, it was just hours.
"I'm so sorry." You cried into his shoulder, "Our fight that was my fault—"But he shushed you gently, soothing your hair before pressing his lips to the top of your head.
"It is all but forgotten." He murmured before you felt sweet kisses against the side of your face, trailing down your neck and his fingers found your chin, tugging your face up. You caught his gaze only a moment before his lips covered yours and your eyes closed at the sensation. A chill shot down your spine, and butterflies began to swarm within your belly. You almost forgot what it felt like to kiss him, and for five years, you dreamed about doing it again.
“I missed you so much.” You murmured against his mouth. The haze around you suddenly lifted, and instead there was a promise in the air that you would never be separated again. You felt it in your heart.
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Bucky: *holds onto Y/N’s hand* Go away.
Y/N: You’re holding me, idiot.
Bucky: So mean.
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