weareallstoriesintheend:

Journey to 500 Followers!!

Hi everyone and all newcomers

Just a reminder that when I hit 500 followers (which hopefully will be veeeery soon) I will be putting out some prompt lists etc. and asking you to submit requests for a little celebration with our Marvel and ADCU boys.

Requests will be for drabbles, headcannons etc. for any and all the boys I write for (and maybe some newbies if you ask nicely enough).

I’m really excited and I can’t wait to hear from you guys

I finally admitted to myself that I am physically incapable of writing actual drabbles, so I’m taking the “drabble” out of the title from now on! Fuck it. 

Next edition will be “Summer Lovin” themed, and that’s probably happening on April 27! I already have two ficlets that are almost finished, plus a couple other prompts that didn’t get used from this week, but as always, you can leave more requests here. Just don’t be an asshole about it, mmkay? 

No, seriously. Don’t be an asshole. I’m not gonna lie, I had three reader insert ficlets in progress, but then I got a douchey anon message bitching about how I only write unpopular guy on guy ships instead of reader inserts these days, and I scrapped the reader inserts and came up with even less popular guy on guy ships. I’m a contrary bitch. Rudeness will get you the exact opposite of what you want.

Found Out-Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton (x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton) 

And I Miss You When You’re Around - Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanov

One Thing At A Time - Bucky Barnes x Dean Winchester 

Surprises - Bucky Barnes x Frank Castle

Complimentary - Bucky Barnes x Jessica Jones

Kick It Like A Ninja - Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Matt Murdock

Previous editions are right over here! 

Kick It Like A Ninja (Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Matt Murdock)

This is a ridiculous bit of nonsense involving a vibrating butt plug and some ninjas. The title is a Nicki Minaj lyric and the author is not sorry.

Fills my @winterhawkbingo​ “mistaken identity” square. ~1030 words.Ratedmature for one (1) kiss, shirtless Matt Murdock, and the aforementioned plug. 

Clint was having a fantastic night until the ninjas showed up. 

It’s date night. He and Bucky have a routine; they bar-hop, getting entirely too competitive at the pool table and dartboard, while Bucky occasionally cheats by turning on the remote-control vibrator that’s in Clint’s ass. 

Some couples have dinner and a movie. They have darts and butt plugs. 

The point is, he was a little distracted (aka horny as hell and ready to go home) when the ninjas arrived, jabbed him with a syringe, and tried to drag him into an alleyway. 

They weren’t counting on Bucky, obviously. He grabs one ninja’s sword with his metal hand, wrenching it out of its owner’s grasp by the blade and using the handle to knock the wielder out cold. Then he twirls the sword experimentally, slashing at another attacker. 

Clint tries not to swoon too blatantly.  

“What the fuck?” Bucky growls. 

“Ninjas?” Clint says, with a shrug. “The Hand. They’re dicks.” Whatever was in that syringe is starting to make him feel funny. 

Also? Fighting with something in your ass is hard, and so is Clint. 

“Is this why you never want to hang out in Hell’s Kitchen?” 

“Sure. Let’s go with that.” 

“On your six,” Bucky snaps, and Clint whirls to find another goddamn ninja dropping silently from the fire escape over their head. 

Except it’s not a ninja. 

“Diggin’ the new suit,” Clint comments, and Matt grins at him before doing some fancy-ass parkour off the side of a dumpster. 

Clint ducks away from a swinging sword, but it’s more like a stumble. He’s starting to lose coordination as the drug kicks in. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Bucky asks exasperatedly.  

“Daredevil,” Matt says. “And he’s not Iron Fist.” 

“I’m aware.” 

“No, I mean — they think he’s Iron Fist.” 

“Aw, not again,” Clint mumbles, as his vision goes starry black.

When Clint wakes up, he’s lying on a familiar couch in a familiar loft. He makes a confused noise at the ceiling, wondering why he feels so drunk and loopy. 

“There were ninjas,” he says slowly. “They drugged me.” 

Truth serum, maybe, mixed with a short-acting tranquilizer? Whatever. He can handle it. He’s like an unbreakable vault when it comes to secrets. 

“You’re really not, Barton,” Matt interjects, laughing from somewhere behind the couch.  

Apparently Clint said that out loud. Oops. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” Bucky says, crouching next to the couch to check on him. 

“What happened to the ninjas?” 

Bucky gives him one of those feral post-fight grins, blood in his teeth and a fierce glint in his eyes. “All taken care of.” 

His voice is all growly, and it is doing things to Clint, who suddenly remembers that there is a toy in his ass and an entire evening’s worth of sexual frustration simmering under his skin. 

Matt yanks his shirt off as he comes into view. He slaps an ice pack over the foot-shaped bruise that decorates his ribs as he sits down heavily on the other end of the couch. 

He’s still got all those fucking muscles. 

Clint would feel bad about the way he’s ogling, but Bucky’s definitely ogling too.

“Hey, Matty,” Clint says, clearing his throat. “Long time no see.” 

There’s a beat of silence before Matt says, “Yeah, you’re tellin’ me.” 

“Wow,” Bucky mutters. 

Matt tilts his head. “What is that?” 

Aw, vibrator, no. 

“It’s not even on,” Clint whines. “Fuck your creepy hearing thing.” 

Matt grins, wicked and dimpled and very, very familiar. 

“Oh,” Bucky says slowly, glancing between the two of them like he’s putting pieces together. He smirks. “You’re thatMatt.”

“I take it you’ve heard of me,” Matt says dryly. 

“Clint’s told me a few stories.”  

“Only about the fun sex stuff, not the tragic backstory bit,” Clint offers, as he sits upright, and then he winces. “Aw, truth serum.” 

“I’m flattered, I guess,” Matt says, smirking. He’s loose-limbed and cocky, the way he only gets after fighting or fucking, in the momentary glow before the guilt sets in again.

Bucky sits on Clint’s other side, and he curls a hand around the nape of his neck; he knows exactly what that casually possessive gesture does to Clint. 

So does Matt.

“You do have a type, don’t you, sweetheart?” Bucky says slyly. 

Clint’s definitely had some daydreams about being in the middle of this particular sandwich. He’s only human. 

“Hey, Barton, did you mean to say that out loud?” Matt asks, smirking. 

“Totally.” No, not at all. 

Matt tilts his head, looking in Bucky’s general direction — waiting on his permission, maybe, out of respect for his relationship with Clint. Bucky’s giving him an appraising look in return. He glances at Clint, then to Matt again, and his smile goes a little bit predatory. 

“Daydreams, huh?” Bucky drawls. 

That seems to be what Matt needed to hear. They both lean across him, so Clint has an up-close-and-personal view when their lips meet. 

“Is this happening?” Clint wonders out loud. “Or did I just hit my head really hard?” 

Jesus, they look good together.

The kiss is more of a bite than anything; Clint can see Bucky’s teeth denting the pretty cupids-bow shape of Matt’s mouth, a flicker of his tongue… Matt twists his fingers in Bucky’s hair, tugging him until his mouth is angled just right, trying to take control. 

Clint leans closer and lets out a soft little, “Guh.”  

“Should we let him join in?” Bucky asks Matt casually, using one hand to press Clint against the back of the couch without actually looking at him. “Or should we just make him watch?” 

“I mean, he did get drugged tonight,” Matt says, with a solemn, solicitous frown. “Not sure he’s sober enough to consent.” With the big, earnest puppy-dog eyes, he looks like the very picture of concern.

“Assholes,” Clint breathes. 

“You’re right,” Bucky says to Matt. He keeps Clint pinned with his right hand and pulls the remote out of his pocket with the other, twirling it idly between his fingers. “He really shouldn’t do anything strenuous.” 

“Starting to think it was a really bad idea to introduce you two,” Clint mutters. 

They turn to give him near-identical smirks. 

Yeah, okay, Clint’s got a type.  

.

.

.

Ragnarok

Among Marvel

Can’t Outrun the Past (Part 5)

A/N: We’re all going to pretend that the timeline works, k? It’s like.. an AU if that helps you haha We’re going to meet Dr. Raynor and learn more about the past and there’s actually some cute fluff at the end, but please don’t get used to it ! So, anyways, enjoy!

Pairings: ex!Bucky Barnes x reader, friend!Steve Rogers

Warnings: conversations about drug use, alcohol abuse, rape, etc., conversations with a therapist, some cute Bucky fluff (because yes, that needs a warning haha)

Word count: 2222 words

After a few days, most of your withdrawal symptoms have subsided. You still feel whispers of nausea whenever you eat, but even that is getting better.

“Doctor Raynor is coming to see you today,” Bucky tells you one day when he brings you your breakfast. You look at him.

“Who is Doctor Raynor and why is she coming again?” You don’t remember him ever mentioning a Doctor Raynor before.

“She’s my shrink. She had to rearrange her schedule to come see you and I expect you to take it seriously.”

“I don’t need a shrink Bucky. I am fine.” You roll your eyes at him.

“You overdosed, Y/N. That’s kind of the definition of not fine.” He sits beside your bed, eating his own breakfast. You grumble, but it’s no use arguing. Bucky is one of the most stubborn people you’ve ever met.

An hour or so later, Steve brings a kind, but stern looking woman into the med bay. You look up as she walks in and Bucky nods to her. He stands up, but pauses, looking down at you.

“Be nice, Y/N.” You chuckle but he gives you a serious look.

“Best behavior. Scout’s promise.” He chuckles at your answer, then follows Steve out, leaving you and the doctor alone in the med bay.

“I am sure James has told you all about me.” You almost bristle at her use of James but try to suppress it. You nod at her statement though. “I’m here to talk about the circumstances of your overdose.” You chuckle.

“You and everyone else, it would seem.” You fold your hands in front of you and look down at them. The woman walks around the bed toward the chair Bucky usually sat in.

“May I?” she asks, gesturing to the chair. You nod and she sits, though she does scoot it back before doing so. “So, Y/N. Tell me about yourself.” You laugh out loud.

“Can we skip that part? It’s not the important stuff anyways. You want to know why I’m an addict.”

“I didn’t say that, Y/N. You did.”

“It’s what you were thinking, wasn’t it?”

“Actually, no, I wasn’t. I was thinking that you were someone with a lot of pressure on your shoulders and who doesn’t have anyone to share the burden with.” You look up at her. “Am I wrong?” You look away for a minute before looking back at her.

“You’re not wrong.” She nods.

“Let’s jump into the important stuff then. Why do you push everyone away?”

“Would you believe me if I said that I didn’t push them away? That they left?”

“The hundreds of missed calls from Steve Rogers over the past 7 years would say otherwise, but sure. Why do you feel that way?” You sigh.

“My parents died when I was young. I grew up in foster care, passed from family to family when they realized I wasn’t the perfect girl they wanted. I got out when I turned 18 and ended up with the wrong crowd. But you know all that, I’m sure.” Dr. Raynor chuckles, but doesn’t say anything, so you continue. “I bet you didn’t know that I almost got myself killed when I was 19 because I picked a fight with someone bigger than my own size, and that’s how I met Steve. He swooped in like a hero and rescued me but realized that I wasn’t going to stop. He saw something in me, the stupid foster kid with no sense of self-preservation and brought me back to the Tower. I met the Avengers and Tony kept me on as an assistant, but I managed to weasel my way into a few missions, proving that I could fight just like the rest of them.” Dr. Raynor nods, taking notes on her little notepad as you talked. She looked up at you expectantly, but you don’t continue.

“Where do the pills come into play?” You chuckle at her question.

“Started out innocently enough.”

“It usually does, Y/N. I have never met someone who woke up one day and decided to be an addict.” You nod at her comment.

“I got hurt and the pills helped. I realized, though, that as much as they helped with the physical pain, they helped with the emotional pain. I guess you could say I needed a shrink a long time ago.” It’s Dr. Raynor’s turn to chuckle at your comment.

“How long did you use that time?”

“A few months. Bucky was living here by then and he is the one who noticed it.” You feel a pang of sadness, but hope you hide it well. “Got me through the detox and I was fine.”

“Fine. You use that word a lot for someone who deals with such intense emotional turmoil, Y/N.” You chuckle.

“Yeah. I figure if I say it enough, I’ll start to believe it.”

“The fact that we’re here should tell you something about that thought process.” You chuckle again.

“You’re not wrong.”

“So what happened this time? Your doctor, Dr…” she looks down at the notebook in front of her. “Dr. Banner said it had been 4 years of using at the time of your overdose?” She looks up at you expectantly. You nod.

“Uhm, I mean, the blip happened and I got some help with an old back injury. I almost didn’t fill the prescription. I think I kind of knew this would happen.”

“Why did you then?”

“Uhm, I’m not.. I mean, I think I wanted a break for a little while. Thought I could handle it. But it went from bad to worse and here we are.”

“People don’t use like you did for 4 years and get out of it alive, Y/N. You mentioned the blip. What about the blip pushed you to this?”

“Bucky.” The word slips out before you can stop yourself and you sigh. The doctor writes something on her paper.

“What about Bucky?”

“He was gone.”

“And you were still close when the blip happened?”

“I mean, no. I hadn’t seen him in 2 years when the blip happened.”

“Why not?”

“Just drifted apart I guess,” you said quietly and you’re pretty sure that Dr. Raynor doesn’t buy that, but she doesn’t say anything more about it.

“What escalated you to an overdose?” You thought back.

“It was a lot of little things, I guess. It took more and more to make myself forget. I needed more pills, or more alcohol. I did everything I could to get rid of myself and the dreams, and the pain and all the rest of it. And then…” you trailed off. Dr. Raynor just waited patiently. “I was, uh, I was raped.” The words come out quietly and Dr. Raynor nods beside me, writing something else on the paper in front of her. “Everything kind of spiraled from there.” You look down at your hands.

“That loss of control must have been very difficult for you.”

“I deserved it.” She furrows her brows.

“Why do you say that?”

“I mean, I was the one who was high. I did that. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Were you able to consent to what was happening?” You look up at her. She is looking at you expectantly.

“I don’t think so, no. I couldn’t have told you my name let alone anything else.”

“Then it was rape, and no one deserves that. Ever.” Her words are firm, telling you there is no room for argument. “No matter how drunk or high you are, you deserve autonomy over your body.” You look at her, tears filling in your eyes. You reach up and rub them away harshly before she talks again. “I would like to continue meeting with you, Y/N. If you’d let me.” You nod, not looking at her. “I know this is difficult for you. You’ve learned that those who you allow in leave, and that makes trusting me difficult. But you don’t need to worry about me leaving. I am here as long you allow me to be.”

“Thank you,” you mumble. Dr. Raynor stands, and you look up at her.

“You’ll get through this, Y/N. I already know you are a strong young woman, and you will get through this.” She smiles at you, before walking around your bed, stopping at the doorway. She turns back to me. “I’ll see you in a few days.” You smile at her.

“I’ll see you then,” you say, and she nods, walking out the door.

It’s a few minutes before Bucky enters the room again, walking back around to his chair, scooting it back up to the bed, his knees pushed against the side of it.

“So how was Dr. Raynor?”

“She didn’t run away screaming so I guess that’s a positive.” Bucky laughs at your comment, and you would listen to it every minute of the rest of your life and never get tired of it. You blush at your thought and look away from him, hoping he doesn’t notice. If he does, he doesn’t mention it.

“Bruce says you are almost ready to get off these machines.” You look over at him and he’s studying you.

“That’s good,” is your lame response.

“You would have to stay in the Tower.” You nod, not surprised. It would be months before they would trust you enough to move back into the City. If ever, you realize, and the same cagey feeling from before returns with a vengeance. You look over Bucky’s head, out the window behind him. He turns around, looking in the same place. You sigh.

A while later, you wake up from a restless nap. The longer you are clean, the more the nightmares return, and you wake up to a sad, knowing smile from Bucky. You rub your eyes and stretch and open your eyes to him holding up a hoodie and sweatpants.

“What’s that for?”

“I’m breaking you out.” He has a smile on his face, but you are just confused. “Come on. It’ll be fun. Put these on.” He tosses them on top of you and turns around, even covering his eyes with his hands. You laugh but move to stand up. You get the sweatpants on easily, but, after getting your hospital gown off, you get tangled in the heart monitor cords and IVs and everything else connected to yourself, the hoodie over your head awkwardly. After a moment of trying to untangle yourself, you sigh.

“Bucky, I need help.” He turns around quickly, but you watch a blush spread over his cheeks as he sees you in your bra, the hoodie over your head awkwardly. You blush, too, but Bucky gets to work untangling you from the wires and cords, and, with every brush of his fingers, cold or warm, on your skin, you curse at the reaction your body has to the super soldier. Finally, though, you are untangled from the cords and wires and the hoodie covers your torso. You look down at it, realizing it is a Brooklyn hoodie. You know then that it’s Bucky’s and your cheeks heat up again.

“Ready?” he says, the blush finally leaving his cheeks. You nod and try to stand up. Your legs are shaky, but you steady yourself. Bucky places his hand gently on the small of your back, probably trying to help steady you, but the contact makes your knees weak again. You fall forward and his arms are around your waist before you fall to the ground. He pulls you against him, steadying you. You mumble a thank you into his chest, and curse yourself for your antics, but you feel at home in his arms. After a few seconds, Bucky looks down at you.

“You good?” You nod and he releases your body, hands staying close to make sure that you are steady. You smile at him after a moment, nodding and Bucky grabs onto one of the hospital poles beside your bed. You realize it has a small heart monitor and your IV bag on one pole, telling you that Bruce at least knows about your adventure. Bucky walks slowly beside you as you walk toward the elevator. Once you, Bucky and all your equipment are in the elevator, he pushes the button to take you to the roof. You look up at him with curious eyes, but he just smiles at you.

After a few moments, the doors open, and you see the sunset across the horizon. The Tower is tall enough that you can see for miles in any direction, and you feel the warm air on your skin for the first time in weeks. Bucky smiles at you and takes your hand in his own, walking you toward the edge of the building where he has two chairs and a small picnic set up.

“You didn’t have to do this, Bucky,” you say as you sit in one of the chairs. He smiles at you.

“I know, but I wanted to. I know how it bothered you to be locked inside and you needed to eat anyways.”

“Thank you,” you say, your eyes filling with tears again. Bucky smiles and nods. You look back out at the sunset, the sky filling with all kinds of bright colors and your stomach filling with butterflies.

Taglist:@obsssedwithjustaboutanything@austynparksandpizza@wtfrae@soccer-100000@studio-apartment@ginger-swag-rapunzel

Can’t Outrun the Past (Part 3)

A/N: I wouldn’t call this filler, but it kind of is. It’ll be important later. I hope it’s an… enjoyable? read anyways haha

Pairings: ex!Bucky Barnes x reader, friend!Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: drug use, mentions of alcohol abuse, detoxing, forced medical procedures? If that’s a thing haha, uhm… angst? I think that’s about it.

Word Count: 2186

Part One,Part Two

The first thing you hear is the beeping, rhythmic and strangely soothing. You focus on the sound, still distant, as if it under water. It lulls you back to sleep.

A few hours later, you are sure you are still dreaming when you hear humming beside you. You can’t force your eyes open. They simply won’t budge, but you listen to the humming mixing with the beeping and somewhere, in the back of your mind, you wonder who it is. You listen and listen until you are asleep again.

The next time you wake, pain fills your body, and you are only vaguely aware that you are throwing up. You have no control over it. Hands roll you onto your side. Whose you don’t know, but you are thankful for them because it’s easier this way, but you throw up and throw up and throw up until your body has nothing left to give, and you throw up still. Stomach acid at first, then nothing at all. After what feels like hours but could have been minutes, you’re not sure, you feel the hands rest you back against the pillow, and sweet darkness comes again.

Cool hands on your forehead, a cloth on your neck, you feel like your skin in on fire. Every inch of your body feels like lava, and you are sure you’re dying. You think about Bucky, though, which you find stupid. You wish you didn’t yell at him. You wish that wasn’t the last memory he’d have of you. You wish you could give him a better memory. You vaguely, somewhere in the back of your mind, wonder if his hands are the hands on your forehead. You equal parts hope so and hope they’re not. You were only just starting to forget the way his hands felt on your body.

When you start to feel yourself slipping away from the darkness, you are almost sad. There is a part of you that wished it would stay, wished that you could stay in the darkness forever, but then you scold yourself. You know you shouldn’t be wishing for that. You know that’s death. The more you wake up, though, the more you wish you could go back. Every inch of your body feels as though you are being ripped limb from limb. Your skin is stretched too tightly. Your hair feels as though each strand is being pulled in a different direction. Bees sting you over and over, your entire body. You wish for death.

“Y/N?” you start to hear, but it’s far away and you’re not sure you heard it correctly. You can’t respond anyways, whoever they are. You just wait, stuck in your body that is slowly dying, and there is no way for you to get out.

Days, hours, minutes later, you can’t tell, you try to open your eyes, but when you do, it’s blinding. Everything is bright, too bright, white searing into your brain. You groan quietly, but try to keep them open, try to adjust. You finally adjust to the white of the room, and you realize it’s a hospital room. Or at least it is made to be one. You realize it is the med bay at the Avenger’s Tower, but there are many more machines than usual. The events from before you passed out start to slowly come into focus. Tony. Pepper. Steve. It’s not too soon, though, that you remember what you need. You remember what will stop the pain. Stop the hurt. You look around the room to find it empty. On a chair near your bed is a neat pile of your clothes, your bag sitting on top.

You shift your body, pain searing through every inch, but you turn your body, hoping to fall on the floor. You do, with a thud, wires tensing and tubes twisting every way from your body. You don’t care, though. One rips off your chest and the beeping machine behind you starts to beep louder. You drag yourself to your bag, dump all its contents on the ground as you frantically look for the mint tin.

“Y/N?” Your eyes dart to the door where Bucky. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. Tell the others she’s awake,” he says, his tone calm as he rushes to your side. “No, no no no Y/N, it’s okay,” he says, grabbing your hands and his strength is no match for yours on a good day.

“GET OFF ME,” you say, trying to yank away from his grasp, but he doesn’t let go. He pulls you into his body, holding you tightly across your arms. “LET ME GO!” You are screaming, kicking and thrashing, trying to get away from the super solider, but it’s no use. You know, logically, it is no use. Your kicking sends the mint tin clattering across the room, and you try to lunge for it, but you don’t budge. Your screaming continues until Bruce and Steve rush through the door.

“Y/N,” Steve says, crouching in front of you. “You’re safe.” He is trying to calm you down, but it does nothing.

“I AM GOING TO DIE!” you scream in his face and his eyes flash with sympathy. “LET ME GO!” You’re still thrashing and kicking, but Bucky doesn’t loosen his grip. Bruce crouches down beside Steve, who holds down your right leg, stopping it’s thrashing easily, and you feel a slight pinch. You continue kicking and pulling against Bucky until, after a few minutes, you feel your legs and arms tire, like you’re losing control of them. You know it’s whatever Bruce gave you, and you wish for the darkness once again.

It never comes, though. Even when your body doesn’t cooperate, when you can’t move, even after Bucky picks you up and lays you back on the bed, the darkness is nowhere to be found. You are trapped in your body, pain searing through every nerve and you know exactly what can help. Pills, pills, pills. That’s all you think about. That’s every thought. Pills.

You hear Bucky, Bruce and Steve talking in hushed whispers across the room, but you can’t get yourself to care about what they are saying. You look at the mint tin, still on the ground near the chair, all the rest of the contents of your bag scattered around. You stare at it, not blinking, willing it to move. You have seen people do all sorts of things and you just want it to work, this one time. It doesn’t though.

Bucky pulls one of the chairs up beside your bed, looking at you with concern in his eyes. You look at him for a moment, before turning away from him.

“Don’t be that way, doll,” he says with a chuckle. You hate the effect he has on you, even on whatever mild horse tranquilizer Bruce had given you. You want to roll your eyes, tell him to leave you alone, but you wouldn’t even you could. Even now, in this big mess, you know you want him beside you.

A while later, you feel the tranquilizer wearing off and you’re able to move a little more. You look up as Bruce walks to the side of your bed, crouching down to be on your eye level.

“How are you feeling, Y/N?” He has a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Fine,” you rasp out, your voice tired from screaming and disuse.

“I don’t believe you,” he says, a smile still on his face, pity in his eyes. “Okay, Y/N, I need you to tell me what you were using. We didn’t find any track marks…” he trails off and you realize the men probably had to change your clothes, meaning Bucky probably saw your underwear. The thought makes you groan internally.

“Oxy,” you say, not entirely lying. You did use oxy. And other things. His brow furrows.

“And?”

“How long?”

“72 hours before your overdose,” Bruce says, flipping into doctor mode. Your eyes widen. Overdose. Overdose. You realize he’s probably right. You also realize you don’t really care. That you wished it had worked. That you never went to Tony’s funeral for them to help you.

“Oxy, Fentanyl, and molly. I don’t’ know what else.” You feel Bucky bristle beside you, but you refuse to look at him, looking at the wall behind Bruce’s head.

“Any alcohol?”

“Yes.” He looks at you expectantly and you realize he wants to know how much. “A bottle of Everclear and a bottle of Jack Daniels. Some shots at the party. I’m not sure what.” Bruce nods.

“Did you take any of the pills with alcohol?” You nod. He nods as well, and you watch him think for a minute.

“How long have you been using, Y/N?” The question settles in the room, and you realize that Bucky probably wants to know as well.

“Uhm, 4 years.”

“You’re lucky you haven’t killed yourself before now, Y/N.” It’s Bucky this time and you want to yell and scream and tell him that he doesn’t get to have an opinion. But you don’t have the energy. Bruce nods, and stands up.

“How long was I out?” you ask Bruce, who pauses, looking back at you.

“12 days, Y/N.” 12 days. Your brain struggles to process his words. 12 days. “You should be through the worst of your withdrawal now, but we’re going to keep you hooked up to the monitors. Long term drug abuse can affect your heart.”

Anxiety begins to bubble up again, the feeling of being a caged animal resurfacing. You want to yank off all the cords and tubes and wires, but you don’t. You shift so you are laying on your back and close your eyes. You take a deep breath, blocking out all the sounds from the room. It’s not until you feel Bucky shake your arm that you realize someone was probably talking to you.

“Y/N?” You hear Bucky’s voice now.

“Hmm?” you ask, not opening your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” They’re the words you had been wishing to hear for years, but it does little to soothe the pain he had caused.

“I know,” is all you could get out. You hear Bucky sigh beside you, and you wonder if that’s not the answer he was looking for, but you don’t care. You weren’t ready to forgive him yet. Maybe not ever.

You must have fallen asleep, because when you open your eyes again, the room is quiet. You vaguely wonder if it’s a trick, but you can’t get yourself to care. All you care about is that mint tin, hopefully back in your bag which is, once again, sitting on top of your clothes. This time you are more careful, careful to stand up and tip toe across the room, not disrupting any of the wires and tubes and cords. You grab your bag and search through it, finding the tin you are looking for. You shake it and realize there is only 1 pill. You take it easily, and tip toe back to the bed. You wait. And wait. And wait. But relief never finds you. You hear someone clearing their throat and snap your head to see Bucky standing in the doorway of the room, leaning against the door jam.

“It won’t work, Y/N.”

“What do you mean it won’t work?” you snap.

“It won’t work. The pill. It won’t work anymore.”

“It’s just because I only took one. I just need more. Please, give me more, Bucky. I’ll do anything. It hurts.” You whimper the words out, getting increasingly pathetic as the words come out. Bucky, though, shakes his head.

“It doesn’t matter how many you take, Y/N. You won’t feel high. It won’t calm down your brain, or anything else. Bruce gave you a shot of Vivitrol, 4 days ago.”

Vivitrol. Vivitrol.

“You had no right.” The words come out as a snarl, and you fight the urge to physically attack the man.

“You gave me no choice, Y/N. We’ve done this, remember? This is the only way.”

“It wasn’t your choice to make, Bucky!”

“It wasn’t your choice either, Y/N! You were laying there unconscious!”

“I was going to wake up! I was going to be okay with or without the Vivitrol!”

“YOU ALMOST DIED, Y/N! WHAT ABOUT THAT DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?” Bucky’s tone changes to match your own snarl.

“WHAT IF I WANTED TO?” you scream and Bucky stops, breathing heavily in the doorway. You groan and flop back down on the pillow, panting. Vivitrol. You had 26 more days until you’d need another dose. You resolve to get out of the Tower before then. To disappear before then.

“Y/N,” Bucky says quietly, and you realize he is standing over your bed. “Y/N, please. Let me help you.” His words are soft, and you want to believe them. You want to lean into him and let him help you like he did last time. But you can’t. You can’t get hurt that way again. Before you can answer, though, nausea spreads through your stomach and you throw up all over Bucky’s shoes.

Taglist:@obsssedwithjustaboutanything@austynparksandpizza@wtfrae@soccer-100000

Pale Rider - Frank Castle x Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

A/n: This is inspired by the song Pale Rider by the Heavy Horses. I completely recommend it! It literally is a song about Frank I kid you not. But yeah, please enjoy. Also tagging @peculiarpenman because they always inspire me to write more poetically. <3 I love you! 

Summary: There’s a man with no name who comes in the night, who sits in the same booth and orders the same black coffee. He reeks of violence and yet you feel safe, but you never break the silence. Until one night. Just make sure you don’t fall in love with the pale rider. 

Warnings: Afab! reader, SMUT (p in v), language, kissing, angst, some violence, panic attack, depression, but then back to fluff I promise

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There’s a song that plays when you’re drying the clean glassware. There’s a song that filters from the small speakers echoing through the empty booths and freshly mopped tiles.

There’s a song that becomes your only company when no one is in the small diner. There’s a song that plays when there’s no one but him.

He comes in the off hours, when the highway outside is bare and lonesome, when the other servers have left and it’s only you and the sleeping cook on the kitchen stool.

He pulls up in a black van, parks in the same spot, a little far from the entrance, but close enough he can watch it from his booth three shy from the door.

You know he’s passing through, he never stops for more than an hour. Ordering simple black coffee, no cream, no sugar, in the same mug with the chipped handle. The same booth, the same unreadable expression, the same scrunch to his nose with every sip.

You don’t know why he stops every few weeks. There’s nights where he’s seemingly normal, hood pulled high over his head. But then there’s nights where he’s covered in dirt and bruises and blood. You’d have to be pretty dumb to not notice the handgun tucked in his waistband.

He always leaves without a word, just a wad of cash that doubles the price of the coffee, and a simple nod towards you.

It’s enough to buy your silence and hush your pressing questions.

Until one night.

It’s a Friday night, a couple teenage couples share milkshakes while pressing up against one another. But they leave good tips so you don’t have the heart to imagine what’s going on underneath the table.

There’s two guys that spare you no thought after you only politely smiled at their not very work friendly comments. Especially after you accidently spilled scalding coffee onto one of them. They grumble and order a breakfast meal while silently conversing with one another.

It’s late enough the regulars have gone home, the only customers being the ones the road brings in and maybe just maybe you’ll be able to use the mug with the chipped handle.

The bells chime above the door, a familiar sound making your head rise to find a familiar face.

A small smile unconsciously works onto your face as the hooded figure nods towards you and heads to the booth three from the door. You practically drop what you’re doing to get his chipped mug, stashed away in a safe space.

Grabbing the coffee pot your motions halt for a second. Questions ringing out through your head, asking why you’re so happy to see him, why he makes your heart flutter, why you feel so safe with him.

Shaking your head and shushing the little voice that echoes insecurities, you walk over to him.

He shrugs his hood off, brown eyes lifting to meet your own. Your breath leaves your chest at his gaze.

Eyes that are soft and warm and somewhat sorrowful. Eyes that have lived and seen and felt. Eyes that have fought and conquered and lost.

You smile and set the mug down, pouring the hot liquid into it.

“Freshly brewed.” Winking as you add, “just for you.”

His lips pull into a grin and you turn to walk away but then he utters, “Thank you ma’am.”

His voice thunders through your soul, shaking your bones and sending lightning through your veins. It sounds just how you thought it would, deep and timbre, yet gentle and as if scared he’s too loud.

You’re not sure what noise leaves your lips, but it definitely wasn’t human. Heat licks up your neck, thoughts running haywire as the corners of his eyes crinkle, amused at your response.

Simply nodding, you rush away, your voice failing you as your heart hammers.

Things go back to normal. The teenagers leave. Sticky strawberry milkshake left on the table, but at least they stacked the plates.

You can feel his eyes on you, watching as you wipe away crumbs. Gazing as you sweep the floor. Studying as you flash a smile his way before vanishing behind the swinging doors to the kitchen.

“Some dishes.” You alert on reflex, but fall quiet when you remember you’re by yourself. 

The older cook left about an hour ago, after you repeatedly told him you have everything under control and that his wife must miss him, plus it would be best if he slept in his bed rather than on the stool.

It’s the same fight every night. He hates to leave you even as you usher him to his truck. He reminds you of the pistol underneath the register and you smile and hug him. He always looks at you with wisdom and a hand on your shoulder, “Be safe mija.”

There’s a bang from the diner like someone hit a table and then voices start speaking. Your back straightens and you rush towards the swinging doors.

One of the men from before is approaching your hooded figure. Your heart drops. Your eyes scan towards the gun beneath the counter. He reaches into his jacket pocket, your feet start to move to the counter. He starts to pull out-

An arm wraps around your waist, a hand thrown over your mouth before you can scream. You frantically fight his hold, turning in his arms as much as you can. Throwing your weight side to side in any attempt to be freed.

He marches you through the swinging doors and the hooded man’s eyes meet your own, fear washing over them like ice water before snapping back to his cold calculating stare.

Tears start to build as you notice the gun being shoved towards him. You fight against the hold again, no’s muffled and desperate as you try and plead.

A hand slaps across your face, a ring biting into your skin and bursting your eyebrow.

“Be quiet bitch.”

Everything stops. No one moves.

And then it all happens at once.

A shot is fired, the hooded man strikes, the hands around you tighten and then fall away.

You stumble forward, blinking away tears, and suddenly you’re in another pair of arms.

Instinstics run wild, you start fighting and shoving and “hey hey it’s me sweetheart.”

Relief crashes over you as you recognize the black cotton before you, the spicy deodorant, the large hands rubbing up and down your back.

You look up and are met with the most beautiful brown eyes.

“Are you okay?”

His thumb traces the edge of your jaw, running up by your ear, and wiping the blood away from your eyebrow.

Silently, you nod, transfixed on being so close to him; your nerves still trying to figure out what happened and where you are.

“Yeah? You got a first aid kit?”

He lets you lead him slowly towards the bathroom. Lets you fist the cotton of his shirt as you look down to the two men. Lets you scan his face as you try and gauge what he is while he wipes his hands of blood.

You let him wash and bandage the cut on your eyebrow. Let him hold your thighs as his eyes dance over your features. Let him wordlessly care for you.

“Are you okay?” He repeats, this time not willing to take silent nods for an answer.

What is he? Why were these men after him? Is he dangerous? Are you in danger?

You know you should shy away, should flee from his hold, should escape while you can. But you can’t stop seeing the look of fear in his eyes when he saw you.

He holds you with such tender care, tough and worn skin now gentle and soft. His eyes gaze into your own, searching for something… anything.

That terrified look that he flashed your way is enough to tell you he’s okay. Enough to tell you he can be trusted. Enough to tell you that he’s human.

“I’m… I’m okay… are you?”

His eyes shift away, his tongue darts out to wet the corner of his mouth, “Yeah,” his right hand flexes on your thigh, “I’ve seen worse.” It’s softer, almost like he wasn’t expecting you to ask.

You reach out and press your right hand against his cheek, it looks miniature holding his head.

He’s strong. He’s powerful. He’s safe.

An intense want… need washes over you, like big swells crashing along the sandy shore, abrupt and deafening.

Maybe it’s the frazzled ends of your nerves, the frightened and heightened aire to your movements. Or maybe it’s the fact you’ve imagined this very scenario a thousand times before.  

Your lips collide to his, like magnets being pulled to one another.

There’s a half second, an hour long half second where he does nothing. Silent and still and stoic. A half second that’s long enough for the insecurities to bubble up, the thoughts to start ringing like tsunami sirens.

What are you doing? You forced yourself on him. He doesn’t even like you. No one does.

A strong hand cups the back of your head and he breathes into you, lips melding to your own.

His nose smashes against your cheek, his lips smear across your mouth, his breath seals away the little voice. Thoughts washing from your mind as it’s flooded with him and only him.

“Do-” your breathing is loud in your ears, your eyes stay shut, your hands can’t leave his form, “do you want to come back to my place?”

***

Sheets crumple at the base of your bed, clothes strewn across the room, the black van parked in your driveway.

It’s overwhelming. He fills your senses, fuels the fire raging throughout your veins.

His fingers dance over your skin, pushing and pulling at your flesh. His lips map out every curve and blemish on your body, teeth scraping as his breath fans across you. His dick slides in and out, punching something vital inside you, something that makes you curl up and scream out.

Your voice sounds small in your ears, begging and whining and gone dumb for him. Your fingers dig into his flesh, your legs wrapping around his hips and pushing your heels into the strength of his butt. You want him closer, want him to put all his weight on you, want him to crush you beneath him.

He grabs your chin, holding it firm and gentle. His eyes stare into your own, commanding you to look at him, to give yourself to him. It’s intimate and suddenly a different type of overwhelming… something allconsuming.

You know it strikes him too because those deep eyes soften, looking far into your soul, searching for something you’re unsure of. Then they shift down to your mouth, lips parted and coated in him, claimed by him.

His forehead touches yours and he stops.

It’s still.

A calm in the raging waves. The center of a pond’s ripple. The hush of a single falling raindrop.

He breathes in as you breathe out, surrounding himself in you, tying an invisible knot between your souls.

Then his hips move again. Knocking a gasp from your lips.

He leans down, lips pressing against yours no longer in a fierce hot-blooded need, but rather a gentle and almost loving caress. A kiss that slows everything down, coats your movements in molten honey, makes your heart bloom with warmth. A kiss that tells of passion, intimacy, and something akin to love.

Stars burst behind your eyelids, his nose nudges into your neck.

Flames build within your heart, his voice calls your name.

Ecstasy floods your nerves, his lips press against your own.

Just like that sweetheart. There you go. Come for me. Sing for me.

All for me. Just for me. Only for me.

***

It’s comfortable and safe.

His fingers drift across your shoulder, soft and not fully there. He’s lost behind his thoughts, mind somewhere else.

You’ve melted into him, back pressed against his naked chest. Your heart beats strong, still calming down and somehow you know it never fully will. Your own gaze misted and taken by thought.

You take his free hand into your own, turning it over and tracing the lines along his palm, scratching at the permanent scars on his knuckles.

His breath hitches, quiet and barely noticeable. It’s intimate and soft and makes you wonder if you stepped too far.

But you’ve already gone this far. 

Laid yourself bare for him. Cracked open your ribs one by one and let him prod at your heart. Torn the muscle out and gave the pulsing pieces to him as a gift, an offering.

All for him. Just for him. Only for him.

You tilt back, head leaning against him so your eyes can find his features, find his eyes already on yours.

There’s something startling in the way he looks at you. 

Skin scared and telling tales of pain, a strong nose that’s been broken multiple times, sharp jawline growing dark scruff. His cheeks are dusted with a light pink, his heart beating strong behind your back, deep brown eyes that seem to look into your soul.

They speak silent words, words that you’re unable to translate, words that mean millions to him.

His eyebrows furrow, only slightly. You’re learning that little tells weigh heavily into reading his thoughts.

Those brown eyes leave your own, trailing down your form to where you still have his hand, large and strong and worn in your hold. After a second, his thumb moves, featherlight and almost afraid as he traces your fingers. His eyes cloud over, lost again to thought.

Neither of you speak, too scared to break the silent spell.

You stay like that for what seems like both years and seconds.

All too soon and too delayed, he leans over and turns the light on your nightstand off, a kiss pressed to the top of your head.

You fall asleep like that, pressed against the chest of the man with no name.

Safely secured between the thighs of the man with no name.

Hands still wrapped around the big paws of the man with no name.

***

The next morning the only trace of him, the only evidence besides the memories is the note with scrawled letters left beneath the light next to the sweating water glass.

Stay safe Sweetheart. - F

***

You tried to not think of him. Tried to forget the stab in your chest when you woke up alone.

But the thought of him, the memory of his lips trailing up your spine, his hands tugging your ass, the hushed praise, it echoes through your head.

Gnaws away at your will power.

A fierce hunger that feasts at your soul.

You’re not sure why you’re so hurt about it. Not sure what you were expecting or wanting from him. It’s the classic one night stand leave before they wake up. So why are you disappointed? Why did you expect more? Why did you so easily give yourself to him?

Why do you desperately want more?

***

You’re softly humming along to the radio when the cook turns the television on to the news. Voices flow through the small diner about the weather and then the voices turn more hurried.

“… multiple gangs being hunted down by precise and strategic hits. Many of us are wondering just what army or gang could be doing this, but the answer is not whom but rather who.”

You set the broom to the side and frantically reach for the TV remote, the voices growing louder and lighting up the walls from where it sits in the corner. Pictures flash across the screen, some blurred, some not.

A gasp leaves your mouth.

“That’s right, this is being done by one man. Is the ghost of the Punisher back to torment us all once again?”

A fuzzy picture of a hooded man overtakes the screen and your eyes widen, the remote falls from your grasp.

It’s him.

It has to be him.

Suddenly the dots connect, the scars, the gun… the men.

He was on a mission.

You were just a simple stop along the way.

“Mija… you okay?” The cook asks in his heavy Spanish accent, worry overtaking his aging face.

Looking at him, your head nods but no words can leave your mouth.

Your heart already shattered on the floor.

A red and orange map pops up, showing pins as to how far he has covered the country. The story continues, detailing his committed crimes.

The TV goes dark, forgotten remote in the cook’s hand as his eyes scan over your frame.

“No more mija.”

He nods and trails back to the kitchen, black doors swaying after his departure, the radio soon turned back to the normal channel.

Familiar lyrics flood the diner, never ringing truer than now.

Ride to town, shoot ‘em up, and keep on going. Cause I got a job to do and I don’t stop for no one.

***

Days pass and each time the bells chime above the door your breathing stops, waiting for that hooded figure to walk through, but he never does.

You know it shouldn’t, but your heart drops in disappointment. He became part of your routine, you expected to see him, kept his mug tucked away for when he did show up.

A flickering hope that he might be on your doorstep when you return home each night.

An even smaller want for him to return to your sheets and touch you like he did, full of desire and as if the night would never end.

Maybe it’s for the best, he is dangerous after all. Best to get him out of your head. Yet even as hard as you try, you can’t break free of the invisible knot. Each attempt at running only tightens the link, let’s it dig harder into your soul. 

A constant ache that mercilessly reminds you of what once was. 

Rumors spread through the local town, it’s small and overly friendly, word traveling as easily as sickness. His name is whispered through lips, as if scared he’ll appear if they speak it too loud.

“Did you hear he killed over the Mexican border?”

“It’s one more killing to the man that has no name.”

“I think he’s doing good, wiping the land of those gangstas that think they’re all that and a bag of chips.”

“He’s unforgiving.”

“It’s one more bullet to the man that has no name.”

“Who says he won’t come here and clean us away?”

“Jerry, is there something you’re trying to tell us?”

“I’m just one more life, for him it’s all the same.”

“Just get your gun, and kiss your wife, and lock up your daughter.”

“Yeah… don’t let her fall in love with the Punisher.”

***

You’ve watched the news, listened to the customers, ears perking for anything related to him. Something inside you wants to know he’s okay, but something else wants to make sure he’s far away.

You can’t deny the hurt you felt the morning after, the stabbing force that still throbs. The tears you shed and wipe away.

What would you even do if he showed up? Flee? You’d probably not make it that far to be honest. Question him? Yeah, as if he’d answer. Kiss him? What the fuck?  

Shaking your head you clear the plates on the table, grabbing the few dollar bills left on the table for you. It’s not much, not nearly as much as he would always leave. You’ve had to cut back on spending a little bit.

Your heart tugs at the mention of him. The invisible knot tightening and starting to choke.

Late nights are filled with scavenging for anything related to him.

Court cases, police reports, mugshots pop up with seemingly no end. Your breath lodges in your throat as your eyes scan headlines, eyes tracing the features of your hooded man.

You watch videos, conflicted between anger and sorrow. You learn his story, the warrior he was, the father, the villain, and finally… the ghost.

Minutes turn into hours and into sleepless nights as you ponder, wondering why he chose this path, why he chose you, why he left. 

His scrawled handwriting untouched on your nightstand all these days past.

***

Everyone knows he’s alive. A dash cam of him sliding over a car’s hood playing across all channels.

You knew first. Heart rigged to him like an addict to a drug. Any small piece of knowledge to fuel the insatiable desire.

He looks the same. You don’t know if you’re happy, angry, or repulsed.

Your fingertips run along the hem of your dress. The man across the candlelit table passionately talks about his business and the next big thing in the stock market. You were interested in the first five minutes, but thirty more and you’ve tuned out.

Smiling when prompted, you sip at your wine, wishing it was something stronger. Your eyes run along the man’s face, watching as his eyebrows raise with every hard syllable. 

His didn’t. 

What no, stop, you’re not here for him. You’re here to forget.

“So tell me, what tickles your fancy sweetheart?”

It doesn’t sound right from his lips.

***

One little date turns into a few and suddenly you have a boyfriend.

Part of you knows it is wrong. Selfish and cruel to lead him on and let him be a sad replacement for your hooded figure.

But he takes you out for dinner each week and lets your heart be distracted from the booth three shy from the door, lets your eyes drift away from the road in search of a black van.

He visits the diner, ironed work clothes wrinkled from a hard day’s work sitting in a chair and talking about golf. A chaste kiss to your lips and a harsh pat to your butt. 

It makes your stomach churn. But the sight of the mug with the chipped handle reminds you that it could be worse.

Stay safe sweetheart. - F now crumpled and thrown from your nightdesk. 

Rejected like garbage in an irate rage as you screamed into your pillow, mascara painted along your cheeks like a Monet. Your voice horse from cursing him and then softly pleading with the universe and finally just quietly sobbing, alone. 

The wrinkled paper mocking you from the corner, rejected just as you were.

“How about a beer for your man sweetheart?”

It’s vile and repulsive and completely wrong.

But the disgust covers the loneliness.

***

Days start to melt together. The Punisher no longer in the forefront of the news, his story old and no longer the talk of the century. Merely a story told to children to frighten them out of sneaking candy in the night.

The disgust washes away into annoyance.

It builds. Slow but steady, each time you’re called the hated nickname is like another drop to the ever filling bucket.

“My girl.” Drip.

“Darling.” Drip.

“Sweetheart.” Drip drip drip.

The flow you once had to your motions now muddled and thick. You used to always have a smile, but now you can hardly fake one. The cook watches with concern as you slowly clean the diner. He offers you toothy smiles but you can’t return them.

“Fuck, I need a beer, long day today.” Your boyfriend sits down in the booth three from the door.

He can’t sit there.

That’s not his spot.

“C’mon sweetheart, chop chop.”

No.

Don’t call me that.

You can’t call me that.

I’m not your sweetheart.

“Sweetheart?”

No.

You can’t breathe.

Stop.

You can’t see, can’t breathe, can’t fucking move.

Get out.

Get out.

Sirens ring in your head loud and piercing and overwhelming.

Get out.

Get out.

“Get out.” It’s a whisper.

“Get out.” It’s a yell.

“Get out!” It’s a command.

His eyes are wide, startled, “What do you mean sweetheart?”

“Don’t fucking call me that! Get out!” You point at the door, you’re yelling and screaming, and you still can’t breathe. Sucking in air and yet it does nothing to give you oxygen.

“Get out! Get out of here! Get out of town! Get out of my life!”

“Sweetheart, I don’t understa-”

“I’m not your sweetheart! I never was!”

He leaves the booth three shy from the door, his gray convertible leaving the parking lot, the radio soft in the background.

Your chest heaves, finally able to suck in air.

Tears stream down your face, the bucket tipped over and empty.

The crumpled note rests in the strength of your palm, clenched safely between your fingers.

The cook brings you into his arms, holding you for as long as you need while you shake and sob.

“Go home mija.”

Don’t let your daughter fall in love with the pale rider.

***

Weeks pass, you feel better.

Things go back to how they were. Before your boyfriend, who you haven’t seen since.

The regulars compliment you on your refound smile, happy to have you back in high spirits. It fills a void in you.

The teenagers with their sticky milkshakes and shared fries. The old men who talk about their day back on the farms. The old ladies who gossip and try to set you up with their grandsons even though they know your heart belongs to someone else. The cook goes back to sleeping at his stool.

The note, now wrinkled and worn, rests back on your nightdesk. Where each night you trace the letters and try to remember his voice in your head.

It’s the last part of him you have and you wish had thrown it out. You know it’s the final thing holding you back. Like a recovering smoker with the last cigarette in their breast pocket. A sick reminder of what pleasure once was, what happiness felt like.

But now you can’t. Emotionally attached and still holding onto the sliver of hope. Maybe you were enough. Maybe your memory could entice him back. Maybe he feels what you do.

The invisible knot which once choked and suffocated now a craving, a part of you.

The booth three shy from the door empty in waiting, the black van nowhere in sight, the chipped mug set aside and untouched.

Until one day.

Sunny and bright, with a fresh breeze in the air. Your skirt flutters beneath your apron, your smile a little wider, your heart expecting for something you’re unsure of.

The bells above the door chime.

Your heart stops.

“Hey sweetheart.”

You’re wrapped into a safe embrace.

Don’t let your daughter fall in love with the pale rider.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you all liked this one! I’m super duper proud of it so please let me know! Seriously, I love hearing what you all have to say or think!  

As always, 

Love, Lordy :) 

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Imagine loki seeing you after being separated from you for a very long time

Part 1,Part 2,Part 3,Part 4.

Summary: Peter comes home, Wanda makes a promise.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Hey… I’m back. I stopped writing when I entered university, now i’m ending my second year. I’m so so sorry i left you guys hanging for so long, but life’s been crazy as fuck. someone messaged me about this a few days ago, and i couldn’t stop thinking about it. Hopefully i’ve gotten better at writing!

The ride back was terse. 

Peter followed behind your truck, Wanda sitting next to you with the machete still tight in her hand. Your own hands gripped the wheel tightly. You were afraid that you wouldn’t be able to let go.

The moment you twisted the key in the ignition, Wanda had turned to you and asked in a calm voice. “Do you know if he was followed?”

Immediately, your chest tightened. “No. I don’t.”

“Did you use secure channels?”

“Of course we did-”

“Did you change them every night?”

“I’m not stupid,” You snapped. It wasn’t Wanda who frustrated you, it was the uncertainty of being followed. You hadbeen safe, but there was always an element of unknown that could come back and bite you. “I knew what I was doing. Believe it or not I survived just fine before you came along.”

Wanda had sat back. “I’m just covering all the bases; no need to be so sensitive.”

“We were as careful as possible.”

“‘Careful as possible’ doesn’t ensure anything.” She responded coolly.

“Why do you care if you’re going to leave?”

That stung. You could feel the sting when the words hit Wanda.

Now you sat in silence, staring straight ahead, driving back home while simmering in subdued anger. The idea of welcoming another stranger into your house make your stomach flip. So much had changed over the past weeks, you were scared for the future. The good mood you had been in after looting the town. You thought about Wanda’s questions. 

“Wanda,” you said quietly. “I get that’s you’re upset, but if I drive back to the farmhouse, someone could follow us and know our location. If we stop for the night, we could be ambushed, eaten by bears, or… or…”

“Hey, calm down.” Wanda said just as softly. “What are you asking me, Y/N?”

You swallowed. “What do I do, Wanda?”

“We go back to the farm.” She looked over, trying to reassure you. “Then we wait on alert for the next week. Just in case.”

“Just in case,” you agreed, pushing your doubt away. “I’m… sorry for all of this.”

She turned to you, and you could feel her eyes on you. When Wanda didn’t speak you kept going.

“I’m sorry about inviting a total stranger into the house, but… you don’t know what it was like when I was alone,” you said. “Day after day… there were times when I thought I was the only one left. That stupid radio was all I had for months, and when I found Queens, or, Peter, I cried. For the first time in years, I had a friend. Someone I could talk to without being afraid that they were going to kill me or hurt me.”

“You needed him,” Wanda whispered. 

You nodded, gripping the wheel even tighter.

“I needed him. I still do.”

And I need you.

The thought punches its way through your mind, but you don’t let it get far.

Thirty minutes later, you pulled into the long driveway, mouth dry. Before you could cut the engine, Wanda rested her hand on yours.

“Y/N, if you said you were safe on the radio, you were safe. I’m not trying to scare you into worrying.” She said. “Don’t let it control you. This is still your house, so you make the decisions.”

She might as well have said don’t let the looming thought of being attacked in the night by a group New Alliance Hydras control you. It’s not like that constantly pervaded the edges of your thoughts every night before you slept and when you woke up. 

Instead of saying that, you nodded, and turned off the engine.

“Peter,” you called to him as you jumped out of the truck. “Can you help us move these into the house?”

You were referring to the bags of food and supplies in the cargo bed. The three of you made multiple trips back and forth from the house to the truck. Feeling the weight of each bag helped soothe the knot of anxiety that coursed through you so aggressively. 

Once finished transporting, you stood in the kitchen with Wanda and Peter. 

You turned to the young man. Peter was older than you anticipated, with wavy brown hair that was slick with dirt. “You must be exhausted. Do you have any other bags?”

“No, just this.” He gestured to his single backpack, slung on his shoulder.

“I’ll show you to your room. There’s a bathroom for you to take a shower and freshen up.”

He looked so relieved, you smiled. “Thank you, North. Thank you so much. I can’t remember the last time I had running water.”

You sniffed.

“I have an idea.”

You saw Wanda rooting through the liquor cabinet as you stalked up the stairs. Once out of earshot, Peter spoke.

“Who is she?” He asked softly. He sounded curious, not confrontation. 

There was hesitation that Peter detected. “Y/N, what is it?”

“Shewas a member of the New Alliance,” you said carefully. “But she defected.”

Peter noticeably tensed. “She was a Hydra?”

Hydra was a nickname created by the Protectors. All that time in the East really seasoned Peter’s vocabulary. 

“Yeah.” There was no way to sugar coat it, but you didn’t want scare Peter off. “She was. I found her in the forest after she deserted and I… I stabbed her, it wasn’t bad!”

Peter’s eyes widened in complete surprise as you rushed to placate him.

“We worked it out! Don’t worry!” you said. 

“Okay, okay,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Glad to know my two roommates nearly killed each other.”

“Hey, I am not your roommate, I’m your landlord.”

You chose one of the bigger rooms for Peter, right next to yours and close to the bathroom. He nearly squealed in delight when he saw the double bed and massive windows.

“This is amazing!” he gushed, flopping down on the soft duvet before you tell him not to. “This bed is so big! And the lights really work! How did you find this place, Y/N?”

You wince. Now isn’t the time to bring that up. 

“Get cleaned up and rest. I’ll make you something if you’re hungry.” You turn and left, calling out behind you.

“I’ll introduce you to Goat tomorrow!”

—-

“I’ve decided I like him.” Was the first thing Wanda says when you come downstairs. 

“Oh yeah? Why?”

“Because he’s still a sweet kid despite everything.” She’s reclined on the couch in the living room, long hair tossed over one shoulder. “He must have seen some horrible things out there but he’s still smiling and laughing. He’s like a puppy.”

You laughed, but it’s more like a scoff.

“And here I thought I’d have to convince to you to let us keep him.” You went to the kitchen in search of bread for toast and some sort of canned fruit to add nutrition. “I’ve spoken to him long enough to know he’s a good kid, so we don’t have to worry about it.”

“I never said I was worried.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“When?”

“In the car, Wanda. Like, an hour ago.”

“I’m worried about the Militia, not this kid,” she corrected. “Jeez, Y/N, get it together.”

You turned and looked at her for a moment before rolling your eyes.

“This is what I get for taking in a stray.” You muttered, but Wanda clicked her tongue.

“I heard that.” 

After you put together a simple toast with a side of fruit cocktail, you went to Wanda’s side, tentatively picking at the edge of her shirt to check her stitches. At this point, she didn’t even flinch or stare at you - instead, she raised her arm as you checked. 

“Still needs time.” you said, letting go of the hem. “I hope all the excitement didn’t strain you too much.”

She rewarded your concern with a smile; a bright, full smile, and you hated the way your heart tripped.

“Nah, I’m a trooper. Nothing a little sleep or scotch won’t fix.” She hummed. 

Trooper. Yeah. A trooper.

“Don’t drink tonight,” you hate how much you sounded like a mom, but it needed to be said. “Now that I’m all freaked out about potential safety breaches, I need you on your best.”

When you tried to leave, a hand caught your own and pulled you back.

“Hey, come on.” Wanda led you to the couch so that you could sit next to her, leaning into her unwounded side. “You can relax for a minute, right? Take a deep breath. Tonight was successful despite the grizzly bear.”

She was right - it had been a good night, what with all the food and supplies they found, and Peter’s arrival.

But something in you wouldn’t calm down; the conversation you had with Wanda in the car was still so present in your mind.

Why do you care if you’re going to leave?

You wish you could have snatched back those words. As irritating as Wanda was, the thought of the house being empty made your skin crawl. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad because Peter was there now, but even then, he might not stay, then what? 

“I can hear you thinking, Y/N,” Wanda chided gently. You hadn’t even noticed that she was rubbing your arm to soothe you. “Whatever it is, let it go.”

“When are you going to leave?” You asked quietly.

her hand stopped.

“Huh?”

“I- nevermind. It’s nothing.”

“No, it’s something.” She looked at your face and for once, your could meet her eyes. “Why? Do you want me to go?”

“No,” you said quickly. “Actually, I… God, this sounds stupid, but I’d like you to stay as long as you’d like.”

The words tumbled out like water from a broken cup, but when they were out, your chest felt immediately lighter.

Wanda put the pieces together.

“You want me to stay?”

It sounded so emotional and lame when she said it “Well… yes. But don’t hold it over my head as if I’m begging you to stay!” You snapped, standing up abruptly. “I know you’ll get yourself killed out there, or at least stabbed again, so if anything I’m doing you a favour.”

Perhaps it was your sudden change in demeanor, or the idea of getting stabbed again, but Wanda let’s out a sharp, bright laugh. Her shoulders jumped and she threw her head back.

“Okay,” she agreed, grinning up at you from where she sat. “I’ll stay. How much is rent?”

“Will you help me with the farm?”

“Of course.”

You looked down at her, taking in the lean curves of her cheekbones and the tiny moles under her eyes. She was so beauti-

“Help me around the place,” you decided, smiling right back. “Then I’ll consider your rent paid.”

Wanda stood up at that, and before you could push her away, you feel two arms wrap around you. The closeness made you lose your breath for a second, before you registered warmth and the smell of honeysuckle in her hair from the soap you made. 

You could feel a second heartbeat through her chest, and you knew that she could feel the steady thump of yours. 

Putting your arms around Wanda felt right. Holding on tightly, letting her press into you felt good. When was the last time you held another person and let them do the same? 

“Wanda,” you whispered. Perhaps it had been too long, but her arms felt like security - like the Militia wasn’t real. Maybe if she held you forever, you could pretend like the world was still spinning, and half the population wasn’t dead.

But in that moment of security, you felt something else.

Fear.

You remembered how the previous owner of this house had disappeared. How his family was gone too. Had they felt so scared to lose each other?

“Y/N,” she whispered back. “What is it?”

You squeezed tighter; a reminder that this was real. 

“Don’t let me go. Not yet.”

So, Wanda held on.

Anon asked: Fluff 8 and 14 with Wanda please?

Prompts: 

8. “Sleep over? Please?”

14. “They’re so cute when they’re asleep.”

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!reader

Word Count: 608

Warnings: none!

A/N: Hope you enjoy!

“Wanda,” You said firmly. “No.”

“But, Y/N, I-”

“I said no.”

“How can you say no to me?” Wanda looked faux wounded. “How can you say no to his little face?”

She gestured to the massive blag dog that was at your door. Wanda stood in front of the hound, leash in hand. Looking frazzled and worn out, she had explained that Pietro was out of town for the weekend and needed a sitter for Missy (short for Missile Launcher). Wanda had volunteered but found it impossible to handle the dog alone. She turned to her extremely compassionate girlfriend for help but you said-

“No, I’m busy,” you still let her and Missy into your apartment.

The dog was a bit rambunctious; they raced around your home before finding a comfortable spot on the carpet and curling into a ball, looking up at you with big black eyes. 

Wanda plopped down onto the couch, hand over her eyes. “She’s a beat, Y/N. Missy pulls me everywhere, never giving me a moment of rest! I need food! And water! And sleep!” 

“You should have thought of that before you made your promise.” You said with a smirk. 

Wanda glanced at you. “I dunno, I thought you might’ve wanted to help me?”

“You thought wrong.”

“Please?” She asked, hands clasped in front of her. “We can hang put all weekend? Sleep over? Please?”

You tapped your lip, taking in the big doe eyes and wide smile. “UGH! Fine. You can stay over.”

Wanda cheered as Missy let out a mournful howl.

It was going to be along day.

****

The day was more relaxed than you expected. 

While you sat at your dining table and typed on your laptop, Wanda sat crisscrossed on the carpet with Missy. She was trying to teach the dog tricks with a ball and clicker, pointing here and there while Missy tilted her head in confusion. 

The whole scene made you smile. 

Some time in the evening after Missy tired herself out, she meandered under the table and fell asleep. She was pretty old, but you had grown fond of her.

“They’re so cute when they’re asleep,” Wanda whispered, sitting next to you. She had tied her hair into a bun, strands falling around her face.

You hummed as you took a sip of coffee. “I know; Missy’s a cutie.”

Wanda leaned forward. “Thanks for having us over, Y/N. I really do appreciate you keeping me company.”

“No problem, honey.” You met her lips with a kiss, resting a hand on her thigh. “I like being around you.”

Wanda pressed further, hand coming up to cup your cheek. She broke away for a second. “You think you can spare a moment from work?” There was a sly smile of her face.

You grinned back. “Wait a second, Wanda. Was this your plan all along?”

“Maybe?” 

“Oh, you sly dog, Miss Maximoff.”

She laughed and kissed you again. “Come on; bedtime.”

You nodded and followed led her to your bedroom. After tossing Wanda a spare t shirt and pair of sweatpants, you brushed your teeth and changed into your pajamas. Under the covers, Wanda wrapped her arms around your waist and nestled into your side. When on the precipice of sleep, movement at the foot of your bed jolted you and Wanda awake.

“What was-” you started, then caught sight of a furry mass in the dark. “Oh.”

Missy curled up on top of the bed, body raising and falling with each steady breath.

“It’s okay,” Wanda murmured in your ear. “Just go to bed.”

You sighed contently and did as she said.

And the Snakes Start to Sing (Part 1)

Pairing: Eddie Brock/Venom x former military/mutant!OC (Kasey Eliades)

Series summary: Eddie and Kasey go to a Society of Professional Journalists holiday party together, and their insecurities threaten to tear them apart. Featuring an appearance from the one and only James Buchanan Barnes!

Word count:3,200

Author’s note: Title from the Bring Me the Horizon song of the same name (highly recommend checking out the lyrics). We starting off mostly fluffy and then dissolving into a deep pit of angst. I love sweetheart Eddy as much as the next gal, but y'all, where is the brokenness?? The ego?? The flaws?? We stan an imperfect relationship in this house. Also, Kasey has geokinetic powers as a result of military experimentation that I may cover in some future piece

—

It was the perfect lazy Sunday morning, with no obligations and bright sunlight streaming in through the window blinds in Eddie’s bedroom.

Kasey smiled as she looked up at a still-sleeping Eddie. There he was, peaceful and sweet and dreamy in the early light that illuminated his full eyelashes, the soft lips she could never get enough of. Tattooed arms and inky-black tendrils encircled her waist, rising and falling with each breath she took.

She felt safe, secure. Home.

For a group that was well accustomed to, and even thrived in, chaos, these quiet little moments together were some of the ones they cherished the most.

Kasey sighed happily, savoring Eddie and Venom’s warm embrace for another few minutes before she untangled herself from them and slid out of bed.

She tiptoed into the kitchen, waving at the plants on the windowsill that swayed slightly as she drew nearer, her power stirring the energy inside them.

She opened the cupboards quietly, scanning for ingredients to make the perfect chocolate-chip pancakes to surprise her boys. She assembled everything in a few short minutes and had just opened a bag of coffee grounds when she heard her boyfriend shuffling across the living room floor.

She looked up and grinned at a half-awake Eddie, who had thrown on his tattered orange bathrobe over his pajamas. His hair was sticking up in all directions, and he gave her the kind of adorable, sleepy smile that softened every part of her, a visceral gratitude that they had wound up in each others’ lives.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Kasey said. “I was just about to put coffee on.”

Eddie yawned in response and came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder as she turned her attention to the batter.

“Pancakes?,” he mumbled happily.

Venom’s head quickly popped out next to Eddie, his red tongue running eagerly over his teeth.

“With chocolate?”

“You bet.”

“You’re the best, babe.“ Eddie pressed his lips against Kasey’s cheek. "‘M gonna go check the mail.”

Venom was agitated. “But Eddie, she is making us pancakes!”

Kasey shook her head. “They aren’t done, V, and I don’t think even you would like raw batter.”

“We want a taste, now!”

Kasey rolled her eyes, simultaneously exasperated and amused about how the hulking symbiote so frequently behaved like a small child. She reached into the bag of chocolate chips, tossing a handful at Venom, who snatched them out of the air with a grin.

“Delicious. Thank you, sweetest.”

“You’re welcome.”

Venom then retracted back into Eddie, knocking him off balance as he flew from the kitchen to where Eddie was standing at the door.

“Jesus, V, would it kill you to be gentle?”

“Probably.”

Kasey chuckled as the door shut, perfectly used to their squabbling. She turned the coffee maker on and started dolling out generous spoonfuls of sticky batter, letting herself savor the resulting sizzle on the griddle and the delicious, comforting aroma that filled the room.

She had just started stacking a few finished products on the plate, slathering them in butter, when the door flung open.

“Eddie Brock is not cancelled!”

Kasey turned to see a grinning Eddie waving a piece of mail around.

“What do you mean?” she asked, flipping another pancake over.

Eddie rushed into the kitchen, pushing himself up onto the counter next to where Kasey was cooking.

“The Society of Professional Journalists for North Cal does a Christmas party every year. All the big names go and hang out, swap sources, get drunk. I normally avoid these things like the plague, but after everything with the Life Foundation and my very public lobster tank breakdown, I thought I’d be in permanent exile.” He smiled wide, rapping the card with his ring-clad knuckles. “But I’m back in the game.”

Kasey inwardly shared his relief. She knew how devastated Eddie was after losing his show, and she saw how frustrated he was picking up light-hearted freelance pieces that were a far cry from his normal investigative work. But he worked his ass off on them just the same, and she respected him for it. Hopefully, this would be a chance for him to get back doing the work he loved.

She slid another pancake onto the plate and abandoned her post, jumping up onto the counter next to Eddie to bring him into a big hug.

“Hell yeah, you are!” She pulled back to kiss him, smiling at the hum of contentment it elicited from Eddie. “I’m happy for you. Now this breakfast is a celebratory breakfast!”

Venom emerged, planting a deliberately sloppy kiss on Eddie’s cheek. Kasey giggled as Eddie wiped his face, but he was still grinning. It was endearing, seeing him come so alive.

“Yes, congrats, you are not such a loser after all, Eddie!”

“Thanks, buddy.”

Eddie placed a hand on Kasey’s thigh, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against her sweatpants. “Will you come with me?”

“I thought it was a thing for journalists?”

“Yeah, but people bring their partners and spouses.” He paused, rubbing at the back of his neck, a particular nervous tic that Kasey noticed occurred whenever his ex-fiancé was about to come up in conversation. “I took Anne before. And I always feel better when you’re around,” he added hurriedly. A mischievous glint came into his eyes. “And I also selfishly wanna see you in a really hot dress.”

“Oooo, we cannot wait to see either and ravish you, pretty girl,” Venom purred.

“At least you’re both transparent,” Kasey replied. She dropped her head onto Eddie’s shoulder, interlacing her fingers with his. She didn’t want to admit it, but she felt nervous about going. Particularly as Eddie’s first relationship after Anne.

She didn’t have anything against Anne personally,—well, except her telling Eddie he was incapable of love. Which Kasey had firmly told him was bullshit and just Anne lashing out at not getting the reaction she wanted from him. But Anne was a good person. Kasey just found it hard to not compare herself to someone that beautiful, that accomplished, that witty. Someone that Eddie had fully intended to spend the rest of his life with. Someone he had still been in love with long after she had dumped him.

On the whole, Kasey did actually believe him when he said he had moved on and that it ended up being for the best, that he thought Anne was more in love with who she wanted Eddie to be than the actual guy in front of her. But still, the tiniest drop of gnawing, insecurity-fueled doubt would sneak in every now and then. And this was one of those times.

Kasey kept her tone light, feigning nonchalance. “You sure I can hang among the sea of the well-educated liberal elite?”

“What, are you kidding?” Eddie asked incredulously, tilting Kasey’s chin up to face him. “You’re easily smarter than 90% of the people that will be there, myself included.”

“And if anyone is mean to you, we will rip out their brains so they can see just how stupid they are,” Venom added in a growl.

Kasey relaxed a little, reminding herself that Eddie Brock wasn’t someone who forced himself to do things unless he genuinely wanted to do them. He wouldn’t have asked her to go if he didn’t want her there beside him.

The corner of her mouth lifted. “Ok. I’ll go.” Her grin widened. “I too would like to see you looking all professional and extra handsome.”

“Is that so?” Eddie asked in reply, dropping Kasey’s hand so he could slide his along her waist. He leaned in closer and Kasey embraced the dopamine surge as she breathed in his familiar scent, deep and warm and distinctly masculine.

“Mhm.” Their lips met and she framed his face with her hands, deepening the kiss, a soft sigh of pleasure escaping her as Eddie’s tongue slipped into her mouth.

BANG.

The two of them jumped apart, startled, before realizing the source of the noise was the now-empty plate of pancakes clattering to the floor.

“V, you seriously couldn’t have waited?” Eddie huffed.

Venom swiveled to look at his host, narrowing his normally wide, milky-white eyes.

“You two were too busy eating each other’s faces! I wanted pancakes!”

Kasey sighed, smiling. “And I’ll make more, V, don’t worry your pretty little gooey head.” She reached out her hand and Venom slid past Eddie and right into her touch, purring as she scratched at him like a cat.

Eddie grimaced. "You are one hell of a spoiled symbiote, you know that?”

Venom just flashed a toothy grin, sticking out his tongue in response.

“You’re just jealous because I’m her favorite.”

Eddie opened his mouth to retort while Kasey flicked Venom against the side of the head and quickly slid her palm over Eddie’s lips.

“No, no, none of this. We are having a quiet, happy little Sunday together. Be nice.”

“I’malways nice,” Eddie replied.

“I’m nicer,”Venom countered.

“You literally eat people!”

“Only the ones who deserve to be eaten!”

Kasey didn’t even bother to protest this time. She jumped off the counter, grabbing the plate off the floor before heading back to grab more pancake ingredients while the two continued bickering.

By the time she finished the next batch and loaded up three plates, the two of them had moved to the couch but were still at it – something about Venom wanting to go to the duck pond later to see if he could find a new friend for Sonny and Cher. She dropped their plates on the coffee table and took a bite from her own stack, pleased with the fluffy, syrupy final product.

“Thanks, beautiful,” Eddie and Venom said in unison.

A happy little Sunday, indeed.

—

Two weeks went by in a blink, and suddenly it was the night of the SPJ party. Kasey was nervous. She took the day off, knowing she didn’t want to be rushed when trying to get herself fully dolled up – something she was relatively out of practice with. If she wasn’t in her chef jacket, she was either in activewear or some kind of flannel and t-shirt, her hair tied in a high ponytail or bun. Sure, she could do her hair and some make-up on date nights and throw on a cute top and a real bra, but this felt different.

This was a full-scale professional holiday party, with dignified reporters and networking and social scrutinizing. This was something that meant something to Eddie, and while she normally didn’t concern herself with the opinions of strangers (outside of her cooking), tonight, she wanted to make a good impression.

She sighed, thinking of what Eddie had told her.

“I took Anne before.”

Of course, Anne would have been able to mingle effortlessly, gorgeous and eloquent and charming as she was – no one would question why Eddie was with her, it would be apparent. Kasey bit at her lip, then swore when she remembered she had just swiped on a creamy nude color that was now a quarter missing.

“Goddammit.”

She grabbed the tube off her dresser and reapplied it in the mirror. Slapping her cheeks lightly in an attempt to fend off her sense of impending doom, Kasey took a few steps back to appraise her full reflection.

She turned slightly to admire the way the wine-colored dress clung to her curves, the asymmetrical cut across her thighs that showed off just enough skin, the muscle of her toned legs.

The sweetheart neckline and off-the-shoulder cut accentuated her breasts, and the dark mesh sleeves strategically only showed the faintest outlines of her litany of tattoos. Her long hair was done in simple waves, pulled back behind one ear to reveal sparkling studs. She finished the look with strappy black heels, borrowed from a co-worker.

She smiled. She had done it—she looked good, she looked sophisticated, and she felt pretty. Like she was worthy of being Eddie’s date to a gathering like this.

She clapped her hands, hyping herself up in the mirror.

“You are beautiful! You are strong! You are a Kelly Clarkson song! You have parleyed with hostile insurgents, surveyed genetic experimentation, and have been called up as a temporary Avenger! All before age 30! You can handle one fancy Christmas party with a bunch of strangers!

Kasey was pulled out of her pep talk by the rhythmic sound of knocking on her door. Taking one last look at herself in the mirror, she gave herself a quick hug of encouragement. Then she grabbed her jacket and clutch from the table, steadying herself as her heels clicked across the hardwood floor as she walked toward the door.

—

Eddie was nervous. He’d been working tirelessly to rebuild his career over the past few years, and he felt like this was his first chance in a while to show his peers that he still had it. That he wasn’t just some washed-up nobody.

It was also the first real chance Kasey had to see him around other people in his field, and even though she repeatedly told him how talented she thought he was, he still found himself feeling like he had something to prove. He desperately craved the certainty that he was enough for her, that she could be proud of him. Andjusthim, just regular old Eddie, separate from the Eddie with the swirling vortex of extraterrestrial power inside him.

Eddie stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror as Venom floated next to him. Feeling his host’s apprehension, Venom did his best to be encouraging:

“Eddie, you need to relax. We are going to be the center of attention, Kasey will not be able to keep her hands off us! We look great!”

“You’re just saying that,” Eddie grumbled, but he was secretly pleased. ‘Formal’ for Eddie was usually just a leather jacket and his least-faded jeans, but tonight, he figured he might as well look the part of someone in a prestigious reporter crowd. He’d attacked his normally disheveled brown locks with pomade to keep them neatly in place and pulled out one of his rarely worn suits from the back of his closet. It was a deep navy color, offset against a grey t-shirt underneath.

He looked down at his phone’s lockscreen (a candid he took of Kasey gleefully devouring a massive pile of nachos on one of their first dates) and saw it was 6:30, meaning it was time to grab his girlfriend and head out. This was one of those times when Eddie was extra glad they lived in the same building – he didn’t need to fight the end of rush hour traffic, and his hair wasn’t about to get messed up from his helmet.

“Ready, bud?” Eddie asked the symbiote, who bobbed his head vigorously in response.

“Ready!”Eddie grabbed his jacket and walked to the door, waiting before Venom had merged back into his body before he exited and walked down the hall to the elevator.

His anxiety morphed into curiosity as he got off on Kasey’s floor, wondering what she ended up deciding to wear. He had asked a few days earlier, but she had said she wanted it to be a surprise.

Always in sync with his host, Venom filled his head as Eddie approached Kasey’s door, knocking in quick succession.

“This is the most exciting part of today! We have never seen our Kasey in a dress! We already cannot wait to tear it off her.”

Eddie chuckled. “Easy there, Casanova, we still have the whole night ahead of us.”

But then Kasey opened the door, and Eddie was instantly on the same page as Venom. He thought his heart physically skipped a beat or three when he saw her standing there so pretty, so damnsexy. For him.

His wide eyes drank in every part of her, roaming over her breasts, her curves, her thighs. He was always attracted to her, but seeing her this girly was really doing something to him. He forced himself to focus on her face and that the two of them needed to leave, fighting against the growing hardness between his legs.

Venom, on the other hand, could not give two shits about the party.

“Eddie, take her. Now. Look at that beautiful, delicious flesh, just begging for us to taste it.”

“Later, V, definitely later,” he muttered, still awestruck at the stunning woman in front of him. HisKasey.

Kasey didn’t have to hear Venom to get the context of Eddie’s response – judging by the way Eddie was looking at her, the faintest hint of swirling black and white just around the edges, she could tell her boys were happy with how she looked. Veryhappy.

Eddie exhaled, taking Kasey’s hand in his and guiding her into a twirl so he could see her from every angle. shaking his head slightly with a lopsided grin. “You are …”

“Stunning. Beautiful. Perfect. Ours,”Venom interrupted.

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, all of that.”

“Thank you,” Kasey replied, grinning. She ran her hands up his chest, eyeing him up and down. “You look so, so good. How lucky am I to show off the hottest reporter in North Cal?”

She meant it. He had put something in his hair to keep the normally disheveled points in check, and he swapped out his rumpled hoodie and jeans for a crisp grey t-shirt underneath a fitted navy suit, one that made his ocean-blue eyes all the more prominent. Kasey smiled slightly at the sight of his usual bracelets peeking out under the sleeves, the scuffs on his brown sneakers. Still her Eddie.

Venom grinned as his humans kissed, sidling up to Kasey and sneaking a tendril underneath where Eddie’s hand was around her waist.

“I helped style him! Much better than those sad, sweaty t-shirts.”

Eddie pulled back, swatting at the rippling black form.

“Dude, you don’t wear clothes, don’t pretend you’re qualified to give fashion advice.”

“I still have eyes, idiot. And we look great. Our Kasey looks great. We should do something about that.”

Suddenly, Venom’s tendril was caressing her ass, sneakily creeping up the back of her dress before Kasey dragged him off.

“Nope, nope, not now, V.“ She lowered her voice, relishing how Eddie’s grip on her hips tightened in response. "Like this one said, later.”

“100%,” Eddie breathed out, lust straining his tone. He kissed her again, and pulled back, grinning and a little dazed, as he grabbed her hand. “You ready?”

“Mhm.” Kasey turned her attention to Venom. “V? before you disappear, remember that tonight is about Eddie, ok? So best behavior. From both of us.” 

“Fine,”Venom conceded. For you, sweetest. But he better find me chocolate for my silence.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Once Venom was out of sight, the two walked out the door and down the hall, the reassurance of their intertwined fingers bolstering both of them in the deepest places where their hurt and fear lived, unseen.

Don’t Go, Don’t Stray

Pairing:Vladimir Ranskahov x reader

Summary: After your air conditioner dies in the middle of a heat wave, you go to stay at Vladimir’s. With a sudden change of heart, he realizes he wants you to move in.

Word count: ~2,900

Author’s note: Um I told @angelaiswriting I would write this LITERALLY 1.5 years ago so bless her and her patience

Title is from the song of the same name by Transit: “Don’t go, don’t stray. Stay here with me. And if you need a little fresh air, well, we can sleep on the fire escape.”

—

It all starts with an air conditioner.

Of course your window unit would choose to die during record-breaking heat in the dead of summer, with the frenzy to buy them across the nation leaving it virtually impossible to get a new one.

So, you called Vladimir.

“Question for you.”

He hums and you continue. “My air conditioner just died and no one for 100 miles has one in stock. Do you think I could crash at your place for a few days? I think I might actually burst into flames if I stay here any longer.”

Vladimir freezes. Sure, you’re in and out of his apartment all the time, but it’s not like you’re leaving your stuff there. Even though you’ve been seeing each other for half a year, you’ve been careful to respect his need for boundaries — to have his space as his own. You knew he was, as he put it, “historically pretty shit” at relationships and he’d never had anyone move in before, and you had told him upfront that you didn’t want to put pressure on him — you just wanted to be with him. You didn’t think you had to live together for him to show you he loved you because he did it whenever you were together. And he adored you for it.

But, as he rolls the sleeves of his navy button down further up his arms, sweating already at 9 in the morning, he does agree that you probably will combust without AC access. And what’s the worst that could happen? And he’s also sure he can leverage this into some kind of sex thing.

“Hello?”

Shit. You’re still there.

“Sure, come by the garage so I can get you key.” he grins and you can hear it in his voice. “You owe me, малышка.”

“Ok, Saint Volodyaaaa. Thank you, love you, I’ll be down in like an hour.”

“You too, see you then.”

“Bye!”

Tolya walks in as his brother’s hanging up the phone, staring at it like it’s going to bite him.

“Who was that?”

“Y/N. Her air conditioner broke and she can’t find a new one with assholes buying them all up. She’s going to stay over until the heat breaks.”

Anatoly pauses for a few seconds, opening his mouth and closing it before he responds.

“Ok.”

“What?“ Vladimir narrows his eyes at his brother. "She’s over all the time. It’s just a few days.”

“I didn’t say anything! Just surprised.” Anatoly takes a sip of his coffee, his tone even. “It’s not like you’ve ever liked sharing your space.”

“I’ve never liked sharing space with you, shithead. There’s a difference.

Anatoly’s brow furrows. “Yeah. The difference being you’re terrified of living with a woman.”

“The fuck I am,” Vladimir snarls.

Anatoly rolls his eyes but stays silent, a well-practiced move in the years he’s spent by his fiery brother’s side.

His lack of further provocation works as intended, and Vladimir sinks back into the chair, running his hand through his blond spikes.

“There just hasn’t been any woman I wanted to live with.”

“Until Y/N?”

Vladimir nods his head yes and no in a back-to-back motion.

“But she’s not moving in, Tolya. Not now. It’s just for a few days.”

Anatoly’s long-worn patience finally breaks, shaking his head.

“I just do not understand why you’re being such a bitch about this.”

Vladimir is on hit feet in an instant, his chair scraping across the floor.

“The fuck did you just say to me?“

Anatoly chuckles darkly, taking a long sip of his coffee as Vladimir stands there, seething. He stares at his brother and Vladimir frowns, annoyed at how Anatoly’s dark gaze always seems to run straight through him, past the battle-scarred exterior and down to his core.

"You are fucking impossible sometimes, you know this? Would it hurt you to even consider using this as a trial run, hm? This is the longest relationship you’ve been in, you know you love her — and you could desperatelystand to benefit from having someone around who wasn’t me or mama or a cellmate.”

Vladimir turns on his heel, slamming himself back down into the chair, arms crossed. Anatoly was right, of course. He was being a stubborn prick. And for what? Pride? Because showing he was in a committed relationship was somehow a sign of weakness?

He sat there for a moment and did what Anatoly asked: consideredyou moving in with him. And he was pleasantly surprised that when he really imagined it, really thought about it, it made him happy. The feeling of having you there next to him every morning and night, knowing you were safe. Not having to text you to come over at 2 in the morning because he couldn’t sleep until you calmed him down. A space that was yours, together.

Vladimir sighed and looked up at Anatoly.

"I will … consider. Happy?”

“No. But this is a good decision, Volodya.” He clapped him on the shoulder, dragging another chair over to sit next to him. “Now, onto business.”

Fuck. The last thing Vladimir wanted was to spend more time talking about that fucking asshole in the black mask. And as they discussed Semyon and epinephrine and whatever else Anatoly was going on about, Vladimir couldn’t help feeling his attention drifting away to you. Secretly hoping that, if the next few days went well, he’d find the balls to ask you to stay.

–

Vladimir walks into the apartment and can’t help but laugh at the sight he’s met with. You must’ve just beaten him home from work and there you are, dramatically sprawled across the couch clad only in a sports bra and boxer shorts, relief evident in your face.

He hangs his keys near the door and walks across the room, giving you a light kiss on the forehead.

“Happy?”

You hum in response, reaching up to grab his face and bringing his lips to yours. “You have no idea. Thank you again.”

“‘Course, принцесса.”

You give a mischievous smile up at him, a knowing glint in your eyes.

“Before you start twitching, don’t worry, I’ve kept all my shit neatly organized on my side of the bed.”

Vladimir scoffs, gently flicking your head and chuckling as you give an exaggerated “ow.”

“I don’t twitch.”

“No?” You roll off the couch and walk over to the door, grabbing your sandals from their neatly slotted spot. You fix him with a dead stare.

“So it doesn’t bother you at all if I,” you pause, dropping your sandals, one after the other, on the living room rug, “do this?”

Damn, you had him. Vladimir hated mess, hated chaos — at least in his home. Because there was too much of it already in his life. For years, he craved a place where he could just breathe, and he was picky and territorial once he had it.

But rather that concede defeat, he chose to stride over to you, scarred hands lingering on your hips as he pushes you gently against the kitchen island.

“For smart woman, you forget I lived in a Siberian prison?” He makes a “tsk, tsk” sound and you roll your eyes. “You think something like dirty shoes bothers me?”

You sigh, cupping his face in your hands.

“I know it bothers you because you didn’t have the chance to keep things of your own or keep them nice. Hm?”

Vladimir just hums back, ignoring you, because his attention is now elsewhere. His hands dig into your hips firmly, holding you in place as he trails a line of kisses from the base of your ear down to your throat, relishing the goosebumps that rise on your flesh.

But then you nudge his chest and spin out of his grip, laughing as he quickly pulls you back to him.

“Vova, not now.”

“Why?” He moves his lip back to your neck, teeth and stubble grazing against your skin in the way he knows drives you crazy. And it’s crazy to him how fast he gets turned on so fast just by your presence, your laugh, the way the soft fabric of your sports bra is cut just so to show your cleavage.

“You did say you owe me.”

You laugh louder this time and escape his grip once again, earning a frustrated groan from him.

“No, no, you said I owe you, asshole, there’s a difference.” You swat at his chest, turning to counter and grabbing a laden grocery bag. “Besides, I already know how I’m making it up to you.”

You dump out the contents and gesture grandly.

“Carnitas!”

“That’s nice,” he says flatly, immediately grinning as you yell back at him.

“Oh my GOD, Vova, we will have sex later, stop pouting and be excited for delicious Mexican food!”

“Okay.”

He walks around the island to where you’re starting to assemble kitchen supplies and pulls you into him once more, but this time, with a softer intention. He’s really just thankful for you, for the time he has with you, when his fucked up life and his fucked up head just smooth out.

You stiffen, thinking he’s trying to get you into bed again, but immediately relax into him as he presses his lips into your hair with a quiet murmur:

“я тебя люблю.”

“I love you, too, babe. Now,” you push up on your tiptoes, leaning across the counter to grab a chef’s knife out of the set. “Can you please go put those formidable knife skills to use on these veggies while I work on this seasoning?”

“Sure.”

You pull your phone off the counter and put it on speaker, starting some kind of mellow indie rock hit that fills the room as the two of you take up your respective culinary tasks side by side. Vladimir glances at you and he exhales unconsciously, wondering why he would be so worried about making this permanent — getting lost in his own little slice of the ordinary and the beautiful with you.

–

One day turns into two, two turns into three. And when the heatwave shows no sign of slowing down and you ask him if he minds you staying longer, he doesn’t hesitate.

“As long as you need to, котенок.”

It ends up being a full seven days before the temperature breaks, and Vladimir finds himself facing a new dilemma. Instead of worrying that you were going to bring up moving in, now he’s worried you won’t want to.

“Don’t know why you’re being such a little bitch about this.”

His brother’s words ringing in his head, he grits his teeth and decides he just needs to do it. He just needs to ask. It’s not like he’s asking you to marry him. Fuck, that just sends even more anxiety flooding through him. If he was this nervous now, what the fuck would he be like if he wanted to propose?

He stares at himself in the bathroom mirror, giving himself his trademark death glare and muttering under his breath.

“You need to handle one thing at a time and calm the fuck down, mudak. Now, go ask your woman to live with you. And then Tolya can fuck off, too.”

Chewing at his lip unconsciously, he walks out the door and back to his bedroom where you’re still nestled under the covers, just waking up. You give him the sweetest, sleepiest smile and he finds some of his nerves dissipating.

He crawls back in and lifts his arm so you can slide into your preferred location on his chest, your soft hands tracing the lines of his tattoos.

You stay intertwined like this, comfy abs quiet for a few moments, before Vladimir breaks the silence, twirling a lock of your hair between his fingers.

“I am glad you stayed this week.”

“Yeah, me too.” You hesitate for a second before continuing, something Vladimir doesn’t miss. “Honestly, it was kind of nice not having to shuffle back and forth.”

“Ok, ask her now … ok, now. HELLO. MUDAK.”

But he doesn’t. He just sits there, frozen, letting the silence stretch over the two of you. You break it and while your tone is light, when Vladimir looks at you, he realizes with a pang in his chest that your eyes don’t fully reach him.

Fuck, he was such a coward.

“I’ll make sure my place is fit for human habitation again and you can come over later this week?”

Finally, he finds his voice.

“I don’t want you to go.”

You shift off his chest and sit up, and he’s glad because he can feel his heart racing. You look at him, confused.

“You want me to stay over again tonight?”

“I want you to just stay. Every day,” he adds, hoping it’s enough for you to understand what he’s getting at. It’s weird for him, not being direct, but he just can’t bring himself to ask it outright. Because he doesn’t know what he’d do if you say no.

Dawning comprehension reads on your face and you tilt your head.

“Are you asking me to move in with you?”

Well, there’s no getting around it now. He grabs your hand in his, running his thumb across your knuckles.

“Da.” He feels you staring at him and can’t read the look, so he drops his gaze, panic creeping in even though he’s trying his best to keep his shit together. “Only if you want to. If not, I don’t care, I just thought it makes sense. Like you said, you would not have to shuffle back and forth and —“

He stops talking as you press your fingers against his lips, and hope flickers in his chest when he realizes you’re smiling.

“Hey. You’re very cute babbling like this right now, but you don’t need to be nervous. I love you and I love us, of course I’ll move in with you.”

He looks at you, pleasantly stunned.

“Really?”

"Yeah.”

He grins and pulls you up, giggling, into his lap so you’re straddling his thighs.

“This was much easier than I thought.”

Your smile fades slightly, replaced with a look of concern as you trace his stubbled jawline.

“Did you really think I’d say no?”

Vladimir shrugs, tattooed hands sliding up the bottom of your tank top to rest on the skin near your hip bones.

“I’ve never lived with anyone before besides family. Or other prisoners.”

He looks you over, taking in your softness, your bright eyes. Awestruck that someone as good as you would be with someone like him.

He smiles. “You are special, котенок.”

You beam back and kiss him, hard, and he melts under your touch, hands shifting from your hips to your ass.

You pull back slightly, smirking.

“I am special. And now,” you pause, nipping at his bottom lip before you pull back with a soft murmur. “You’re stuck with me, Ranskahov.”

He plays along, shifting one hand to tug in your hair, his turn to smirk at the whine that escapes your lips.

“Well, maybe I change my mind.”

You laugh, breathless and pupils blown wide.

“Don’t you dare.”

“No, no, don’t you worry.” Vladimir has you flipped on your back in two seconds, wrists pinned above your head. God, he could die happy with the way you’re looking at him right now, the color rising in your cheeks. For himand him alone.

“Now you’re the one stuck, pretty girl.”

“Oh well.”

You tug him down to you and he reacts instantly, falling into the familiar rhythm of losing himself entirely in you. His hand finds its way to the base of your throat as the other slips past the waistband of your panties in a practiced motion, his fingers gliding in the slickness between your legs up as he massages your clit.

“Fuck, Vova.”

And then, exhibiting a restraint he didn’t know he was possible of, he pulls back, and you actually yell in frustration as the contact is broken. Yep, this was payback for when you left him hanging for carnitas.

“Seriously?!”

“Your turn for frustration, принцесса,” he says in sing song. He takes your hands in his, grazing his lips across them as you glare. “Now that you will officially be living here, I have a question.”

“It better be an important one,” you grumble, and he tries to keep a straight face, but it’s hard. He loves you so much but, God, he can’t help himself from messing with you.

He cups your face in his hands, his touch such a tender contrast to his question that you dissolve into laughter.

“Can you please stop leaving your fucking jacket on the chair? We have many closets, you can take your pick.”

"Oh, I can, can I? How gracious of you. You chuckle and bring him down for a quick kiss. “I will, asshole, only because you asked so nicely.”

Vladimir pretends to look scandalized.

“I am alwaysnice.”

“No, you’re not. But it’s ok.” You lick your lips and grin, guiding his hand back between your thighs. "Nice guys could never do what you do to me.”

And as you crash back into each other, Vladimir is filled with the surety that no matter where you two are, as long as you’re together, he’s home.

You’re My Home - Chapter Four

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: You’ve never felt like you belong, your parents certainly treat you like you don’t belong. Then the absolute impossible happens which leads you to a handsome, grieving boy, and you realise that home isn’t a place. It’s a person.

Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of character death, ooc, swearing

Words:2112

Disclaimer:This is set a couple of years after tasm 2 but it may still have some nwh spoilers so read at your own risk, and this gif doesn’t belong to me!

A/N:Hope you guys enjoy this part, please let me know what you think and let me know if you would like to be tagged, I love you all! xxx

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Chapter Four - Welcome to new, New York

Your first few weeks in the new, New York was pretty uneventful, you had yet to find yourself a job, you didn’t want any old shitty job, you wanted to be happy in your work. And, plus, you could afford to wait for a job that you’d actually like. You’d recently had an interview with a local newspaper called, ‘The Daily Bugle,’ to be one of their writers. The guy in charge, J. Jonah Jameson was kind of a crank but he didn’t ask too many questions, thankfully.

What would you have said if he had questioned you anyway? You couldn’t exactly say, ‘hey buddy, don’t mind me, I think I just zipped in from another universe,’ that was one sure way to get yourself locked up in the psych ward.

It was too late for you to enrol in university but you’d started going to night classes for criminal psychology, which had been your major when you lived in the old New York. You’d made some new friends who felt like family already, in such a short amount of time and you’d never had that before.

On a less positive note, you hadn’t seen Peter since he helped you move into your apartment, he hadn’t text or called, and to be honest, you didn’t want to bother him.

You shivered in the cold wind as you walked down the street, you should have put a jacket on but it really would have ruined your outfit. Betty was standing outside the bar, smoking a cigarette, and you rolled your eyes with a smile. Ever since you met her she was always saying that she was going to quit. That seemed to go out of the window every time she drank.

“Hey, Y/N!” Betty grinned as you walked up to her, “you look cute!” she pulled you into a hug, smelling like cigarette smoke and that mint gum she was always chewing.

“Thank you! You do too,” you smiled at her before turning your attention to the bar behind her, “so this is a dive bar, huh?” you asked with a raised eyebrow, you didn’t have to go into a dive bar to know that it wasn’t your scene.

Betty nodded, her eyes widening, “you’ve never been to a dive bar before?” when you shook your head she gasped dramatically, “so, let me get this straight, you’ve never been to a bar with a disgusting sticky floor and spent all night playing pool and drinking shit beer?”

“Yeah, I’ve definitely never been to one,” you fought hard to supress your shudder but you were unsuccessful.

Betty laughed at the expression on your face as she put out her cigarette, “well, sweetie, I’m afraid being friends with me is going to change that,” she wrapped an arm around your shoulders and steered you into the bar.

Betty was right, the floor was horribly sticky and the music was loud enough to shake the walls. But, that wasn’t what drew your attention, what did draw your attention was the handsome boy with fluffy brown hair nursing a pint of beer with a lost look in his puppy dog brown eyes. He looked so sad.

“Peter?” you called out as you walked up to him and he looked up with a raised brow, “Peter hey,” you smiled and gave him a little wave.

Peter gave you a polite nod as he took a sip of his beer, “Y/N, how are you?” he asked with the ghost of a smile on his face.

“I’m good, how are you?” you asked, twisting the ring on your finger, something you did when you were feeling nervous. You had been imagining what it would be like to see him again, you just didn’t know it would be this nerve wracking.

“I’m good.”

“Y/N, how good to see you again.” Felicia Hardy sneered as she slipped in the seat next to Peter and you had this nagging feeling that you were intruding.

You looked between her and Peter, he looked somewhat uncomfortable as the beautiful woman wrapped an arm around his bicep. Her long red nails tapped against Peter’s skin as she smirked at you.

“I’ll see you later, Peter,” you sighed and turned back to Betty without waiting for a reply.

“I saw that longing look, Y/N and I wouldn’t go there if I were you, I went to high school with Peter and he hasn’t dated anyone since Gwen.”

“Who’s Gwen?” you asked, waving at Flash who’d already set the pool table up.

“His girlfriend, she died a few years ago and Peter blames himself, though I don’t know why. They were disgustingly in love, they definitely would have married young and have had five kids or something. But, he hasn’t dated anyone since she died so I wouldn’t waste your time unless you want your heart broken.”

Your heart hurt on Peter’s behalf, you had no idea that he had suffered so much at such a young age. You glanced back at Peter to find that Felicia quite literally had her claws into him. They must have a solely physical arrangement.

“Why the long face, Y/N? It’s Friday night,” Flash chuckled as he held out a pool cue and you took it with a smile.

Before you could reply, Betty beat you to it, “we just saw Peter Parker.”

Flash nodded as he leaned across the pool table to take his first shot, “Parker’s a good guy.”

Betty sighed and bumped her arm against yours, “she’s got a crush on him.”

Flash’s eyes flickered over to you so fast that you were kind of embarrassed, “yeah, I wouldn’t go there if I were you.”

“Yeah I told her.”

“I wish you would stop talking about me as if I’m not here,” you sighed, “and I do not have a crush on him!” you protested, rolling your eyes at Betty’s disbelieving look, “I don’t!”

You tried to have a good night with your friends and you did for the most part. However, the talk of Gwen and Peter had put a damper on things, you couldn’t believe how much he’d been through, losing someone so important to him. You decided to leave a little earlier than planned, rejecting your friend’s offers to come with you, you still wanted them to have a good night. You knew that Betty was going to end up in bed with Flash, even though she’d said a million times that she wouldn’t go there again.

You hadn’t drunk all that much so you put your warm pyjamas on, got yourself a hot chocolate and sat out on your balcony with a blanket to watch New York’s nightlife. You were out on the balcony for twenty minutes before a figure in red and blue zipped across the skyline. Your heart soared and you smiled as the hero came to land on your balcony.

“Hey, Spidey,” you grinned as you took a sip of your hot chocolate.

“It’s, Y/N right?” his voice was muffled by his mask but you could still hear the smile in his voice.

You laughed, “yes, do you remember the names of all the women you save?”

“The pretty ones certainly make a lasting impression,” you flushed at his words, “shit, I’m sorry that was a real dick thing to say.

You shrugged and shook your head, “it’s okay. I realise that I never thanked you for saving my life.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Spider-Man waved away your thanks.

“I do, I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you, so thank you,” you smiled.

“You’re welcome,” he nodded before he fiddled with his fingers, “so um, how are you feeling?”

You smiled, it was so sweet that he seemed to care, “much better, though I do have a wicked scar so I certainly won’t be wearing a bathing suit for a while. Thank you for asking though,” you hesitated as you looked up at the masked hero, “what are you doing here, Spider-Man?” you were merely curious.

“I was just in the neighbourhood but I probably should go,” he glanced over his shoulder.

It was a strange sensation but you didn’t want to see him go, “wait! I didn’t mean it like that, you can stay for a while.”

“I know, I know, don’t worry but I really do have to go. I’ll see you around, Y/N,” he zipped away on his webs before you could return his farewell. You were left staring after the superhero with a frown on your face.

——————————-

Monday morning came far too quickly for Peter Parker, he could hardly keep his eyes open as he walked into the elevator, draining half of his coffee in one. He had an assignment to finish for the newspaper last night so he worked quite late into the night and he’d done a round of fighting crime. He just wanted to go back to bed and sleep for about five years.

“Oh hold the door!” he heard a woman call out as the elevator doors began to close and he pressed the button to keep them open.

The woman ran into the elevator and on further inspection, Peter realised that it was Y/N in formal attire. What was she doing here? Y/N looked up at him with a grin, “thank you so much…” she trailed off “Peter, hey!” she laughed nervously, “I promise I’m not following you.”

Peter smirked, “dang it, I was so hoping,” he smiled and Y/N laughed, looking more relaxed, “what are you doing here if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It’s my first day, I’m really excited,” she looked so happy, that Peter had to smile.

“Great,” he muttered.

“What did you say?” Y/N looked up at him with a frown, she looked so pretty when she did that, somehow.

“Nothing, nothing,” he shook his head with a sigh. He’d done a good job of staying away from her up until a week ago when he decided to drop her a visit as Spider-Man, and now they were going to be working in the same place. Would he never escape her? He didn’t want anyone else to get hurt.

As they got up into the office, Jameson popped his head out of his own office and nodded at Y/N, “Y/L/N, Parker, you’re on babysittin’ duty today,” he nodded over at Y/N who scoffed but Jameson didn’t seem to hear it as he retreated back into his office.

“What a lovely man,” Y/N laughed as she bit her lip and glanced at Peter, “I’m sorry that you have to be lumbered with me.”

Peter shrugged, he didn’t mind, “it’s cool, just uh grab a desk I guess. Jameson give you an assignment?” he asked, raking a hand through his hair.

Y/N nodded with a smile, “yeah, I won’t need to bother you for anything, Peter,” Peter’s chest clenched with guilt at her words and he was about to apologise before Y/N walked behind his desk and gasped, “did you take those photographs?”

Peter followed her gaze and smiled as he looked down at the polaroid’s of Spider-Man that were scattered across his desk, “uh yeah, I did.”

“They’re really good, Peter,” Y/N smiled, “I met him again, the other week,” she nodded at the photographs.

“Oh yeah?” Peter asked casually, “what did you think of him?”

“I think he’s great, a real hero,” Y/N grinned at him as she walked over to a free desk, and Peter couldn’t help but feel smug.

A couple of hours into the day, Peter glanced up when someone walked into the office and he saw with the upmost surprise that it was Aunt May and she was carrying a brown paper bag. Peter stood up from his desk and walked around to meet his Aunt, “what are you doing here?” he asked, giving her a hug.

“You forgot your lunch sweetheart,” she smiled and placed the bag on his desk.

Peter laughed, “what would I do without you?”

“Oh you’d die of hunger,” she laughed and glanced around the room, her eyes landing on Y/N, “hello, Y/N!”

Y/N beamed as she stood up, “hi, Mrs Parker, it’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too darling,” she grinned before she glanced between Peter and Y/N, Peter could almost see the cogs turning in her head, “would you like to come for dinner at the weekend, Y/N?”

Y/N grinned at the same time as Peter sighed, he loved his Aunt so much but he wished that she wouldn’t meddle, Y/N’s smile fell slightly as she glanced at Peter before looking at Aunt May, “I’m sorry Mrs Parker, I’ve got plans this weekend.”

“Oh that’s a shame, maybe another time then.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she forced a smile as she sat back down in her desk chair.

As soon as Aunt May laughed, Eddie Brock snickered over at Peter, “bro, you’re just so adorable with your Aunt bringing you a packed lunch and all.”

Peter usually ignored Eddie but today he glared at him, “or maybe I’ve just got someone who cares about me, though I wouldn’t expect you to know what that’s like,” he replied savagely before he glanced over at Y/N who seemed determined not to look at him.

——————————-

@idli-dosa@lizzieann143@le3h4@mycobrakai1972@spacenerdpascal@andiforgetaboutyoulongenoughh@xuxialling

Part 7

When you arrived at the hastily agreed upon meeting point that Walker came up with, there was no one in sight.  It was a dark and eerie old warehouse, the only sound around you an annoying constant drip in the distance, just loud enough to grate on your nerves and add to your already incessant anxiety over the situation.  You ventured out slowly to look around into each corner, details hidden by shadows and lifting clouds of dust as your feet moved across the uneven surface of the old concrete floor.  You had no idea why Walker would choose a place like this other than if he wanted complete removal from view; to hide something that he trusted you with, though you had no inclination as to where trust would come from.  You had no idea who the other was beyond name and loose associations.  Maybe he was counting on your life as an Avenger to define your character, or maybe it wasn’t that at all; maybe it was your Stark name and resources that he needed.  He wasn’t exactly held in the best regard after his antics across the world in such a short time as Captain America, and maybe he needed a well-known face to represent him.  

He must have forgotten that Steve was your friend.  One of your best friends, and to see this guy carry the shield made you physically ill.  Whatever it was, you wanted nothing to do with it.  You had only one purpose and reason for even being here, and he would soon know exactly what that was.

“Walker?” you whispered harshly, as loudly as you could without being too obvious.  “Walker, are you here?  Walker…OW!  What the hell?!” you shouted out, feeling a stab into your thigh as you turned one of the dark corners into the next room.  “Son of a bitch!”

“Quiet!” Walker snapped.  “Just sit down before that kicks in.”

“Before what…kicks in?”  You stumbled slightly, feeling your head quickly begin to swim and your vision cloud over.  “What did you do?”

“Started an experiment.”

Grabbing your head, you leaned against the nearest wall, feeling his hands take your arms but you couldn’t shake him away.  Your feet felt heavy, then up your legs and to your torso, followed by a searing heat that built in your chest and felt as if you could breathe fire.  If only you could, you might have a chance of getting away.  “Walker-“

“Just sit down, okay?” he urged.  “It won’t take long.  Just try to relax.”

“Relax?!  What did you do?!”

“I couldn’t take it myself until I could see it with my own eyes.  I had to guarantee the serum was safe first, and you were willing to meet.”

“The…the serum?  Are you fucking kidding me?!”  You slid down the wall, pushing your hands against it to try to stay up, knowing that if you gave in then you’d be fully at his mercy.  You tried to connect with Bucky, the first time in so long, hoping that he was open to you so that he would know, but you had ruined that chance with your last meeting.  You gave it all of your might to stay on your feet, but they betrayed you and you finally fell to the ground.  “I don’t want this.”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” he answered flatly, his expression lifeless from the little of it you could still see.  “But if this works, I have big plans for us.  Plans that you’ll follow if you ever want to go home and see Morgan again.”

~~~

The next time your eyes opened, the warehouse was gone.  You felt like you had slept for an eternity, and the energy you had lost was returned in excess that made your body yearn for movement and your brain eager for stimulation.  Bright lights now took the place of deep shadows, and you no longer sat on an unforgiving dirty floor; instead, you felt the comfort of a soft bed and warm linens, clean and crisp around you, almost impossible to deny until you saw his face staring back at you.

“You’re awake,” John sighed.  “I was starting to worry.”

“Where am I?”

“You’re safe, don’t worry.”

“If I’m with you, I’m not safe,” you countered.  Pushing yourself up, you spun your legs over the side of the bed and sat very still, waiting to see if the dizziness had gone and if you had the strength to stand.  Much to your surprise, you felt an energy within yourself like you could do anything with ease, and your vision had never been sharper.  “Oh my god,” you groaned, lowering your head into your hands, “it wasn’t a nightmare.  You did this.”

Walker stood quickly and crossed the room to kneel in front of you, his eyes searching yours eagerly once you finally looked up to acknowledge him.  “So, it worked?  How do you feel?”

“Very murdery.”

He pushed back and stood straight, taking a few steps away from you and the glare that was boring into his soul.  Now that the serum had become a part of you, and you were feeling the success that he wanted for himself, he looked scared of being the only one in the room with a disadvantage.  “(Y/N), this isn’t a bad thing.”

“How do you figure?”

“You’re a super soldier now,” he tried.  “You can have anything.  You can live so much longer for Morgan.  You can lead the team where Tony left off-“

“Don’t you dare say his name to me,” you hissed, rushing to your feet and crossing the room towards him.  “He would kill you for what you’ve done to me, without a second thought.  I might just carry on that legacy for him.”

Walker raised his hands, pleading for you to stop and listen, “(Y/N), I need you to help me, and this was the only way I could make that happen.  I needed to know that I could take the serum too, and then with you at my side we can stop Karli and her band of terrorists before more people die.  You want that too, right?  A better world for your daughter?  So that she doesn’t have to live in fear every day?”

“Stop talking about my family like you know me.  You don’t know me at all.”

“I know that you’re an Avenger, and that means making the world safe.  That’s who you are, (Y/N), and this serum will help you make that happen.”

“No.  I don’t believe for a second that you have an altruistic bone in your body.  This is for your own gain, right?”

“A happy side effect, yes,” he conceded eagerly.  “But once this is over, we can move to the next thing and the next, until it all gets back to the way they were.”

“Before the snap?”

“Yes.”

“That’s never going to happen,” you said, shaking your head and pushing past him towards the door.  “Nothing will ever be the way it was, not for me, so this was all a waste of your time, Walker.  I have no reason to help you.”

“No,” he goaded, “but you do have Sam and Bucky to save.”

You stopped in your tracks and turned towards him, the heat growing in your cheeks as your anger built at even more names that he had no right to utter.  “What do you mean?”

“They’re out there right now, trying to take on Karli themselves, trying to reason with her rather than trying to stop her.  They broke Zemo out of prison, (Y/N).  They’re not thinking clearly, and they’re going to get themselves hauled to prison if they keep this up.  They need you to talk sense into them, they’ll listen to you.  Maybe more than ever, once they see what you can do now.”  Walker paused and cautiously stepped closer once more.  “I know that you have no love for Zemo, (Y/N).  Help me bring him in.  He needs to pay for what he’s done to you and everyone you love.  Help me stop Sam and Bucky from letting him get away with it all.”

~~~

Despite the gnawing ache in his chest that was telling him that leaving you behind was the wrong decision, Bucky gave in to Sam and Zemo, leaving to continue their hunt for Karli in hopes that they would find her before Walker did.  They all knew that if he found her first it would only make everything worse and put more innocent people in danger, and now Bucky feared that you were one of those people.  Even with the past that haunted him every day, if he was a part of a loss like that, to be a part of you getting hurt or causing Morgan to lose another parent, it would be insurmountable, and those other voices would be drowned out with a new terror for him to suffer.  After a nearly silent plane ride, with Sam speaking volumes of disappointment through his stare alone, Bucky all but stomped his way into the next safe house with Sam quickly trailing behind and trying to talk some sense into his reluctant co-worker.  

“You saw wrong,” Sam argued, “there’s no way that she’s in with Walker.  It makes no sense.”

“I know what I saw, Sam.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before.  Listen, let’s just entertain that you’re right and figure that out.  If we can’t, then maybe you need your eyes checked.  (Y/N) would never be on his side, no way.”

“You’re seeing something in her that’s no longer there, Sam.  You’re clouded by it and your history,” Zemo added quietly.  “Her interaction with Bucky in that club was heavy with resentment.  It could be felt from across the room.  She has changed into something else…something darker and not the person that you’ve known for so long.  The person you have once loved is gone.”

“That’s our friend you’re talking about,” Sam warned.  “She’s been through hell and back but she’s still (Y/N).”

“I certainly hope so, for her sake, and yours,” Zemo nodded towards Bucky.  “Having a soulmate on such a tortured and destructive path cannot be an easy prospect to face.”

“She did it for me,” Bucky answered readily.  “She never gave up on me until…until Tony was gone.  But I don’t blame her anymore.  I have to let that go.  After seeing her again, I know that I need to stay with her and pull her back from this. She did that for me so many times that I’ve lost count.”

“And you are a better man for it?”

“Absolutely.  I’m standing here today because of it.  Because of her.”

“Then why are the two of you so divided now if she brought you this acceptance of yourself that you were unable to find on your own?”  Zemo took a seat across from the other two, genuinely interested in the answers he was getting.  Normally he would be pushing like this with an agenda, to break down his enemy, but in this moment, he was purely nothing more than curious and seeking understanding of a dynamic that he found fascinating.

“I don’t know, Zemo,” Bucky sighed.  “All I do know is that when Tony died, he took her with him.  I haven’t been able to really connect with her since then, and I don’t know if I ever will.  But if I can’t, it doesn’t matter for me.  I just want her to find a way to be okay, and if it turns out that’s without me, then that’s how it has to be.  But I refuse to stand by and let her destroy herself like this.  Nothing good can come from associating with Walker, and I’m going to find out what’s happening.  I know what I saw, and I’m putting a stop to it whether she likes it or not.”

thorough (fckboy!Joaquin Torres x f!Reader)

SUMMARY ››››› When Joaquín texts, you know what he wants. And you also know that despite your better judgement and all of the other things you shouldbe doing, you’re going to give it to him.

PAIRING ››››› Fuckboy!Joaquín Torres x Female!Reader (written in 3rd person so you can pretend it’s an OC like I do) Read the OC version here.

WORD COUNT ››››› 3,928

WARNINGS ››››› Joaquín’s pretty out of character because my angel would never.oh yeah, and smut

A/N ››››› This idea has taken over the entirety of my thoughts. It has consumed all of my free time, so I figured I should try to wrangle some of the vibes and vague ideas into an actual story. So, here is this little imagine which is v smut heavy and v plot light. But,I am thinking of turning this into a fake dating/redemption fic, so lemme know what you think! Divider from firefly-graphics (not tagging because this is a work of smut).

A single notification flashed across her screen. 

U up?

Y/N reached over, clicking the screen dark. She was up. But not for him. Instead, she turned back to her textbook and the packets of printed out notes strewn across the desk in front of her. The only men who would be getting her attention tonight were the esteemed scholars Sedra and Smith. And maybe Dr. Barnaby if she got around to reading her lecture notes over. He would have to find someone else. And there would be someone else. There was always someone else for him. She just had to hold out long enough for him to move on and go find them.

Her screen lit up again. 

Or has circuits put u to sleep?

This time she rolled her eyes as she dismissed the notification, a small smile playing at her lips despite herself. Of course he knew exactly what she was doing. Even if he never acknowledged her, he still sat in the same lecture hall as her and dealt with the same lectures and exams. 

Y/N returned back to the textbook example problem, fingers sliding under her glasses to rub at her eyes. She withdrew her hands, fixing her glasses before picking up her pen once more. She needed to stay focused. This test was going to be thirty percent of her grade. If she wanted to pass, she needed to learn how to apply input resistance to both Example 6.11 and her own life.

Oh god. She was broken.

Shaking off the thought of her mental deterioration, Y/N pressed her pencil to her notebook paper, copying down the problem in front of her. Just one more section and a skim through of her lecture notes after this. If she powered through, she could probably finish before three and get a solid five and a half hours of sleep before the exam. Yet, as Y/N worked her way through the problem, her eyes continued to slip over to her phone and the dark glass screen that reflected her desk light back up at her. 

Circuits.

Not dick. 

Circuits. 

Not–

Her phone lit up again.

It didn’t kill u did it???  

She snorted a laugh through her nose as she picked up her phone, thumb swiping to unlock it. As she began to type out a reply, the white auto suggestion box popped up. 

Not today Satan.

She exed out of her roommate’s attempt at a safeguard, as if on autopilot.

Not yet but I am slowly dying.

The three dots in response were instantaneous. 

Sounds like you need to take a break.

The auto suggestion box popped up once more as she typed, this suggestion an indictment of both her idiocy and predictability. She clicked on it.

Come over.

Very little studying was accomplished in the time between Y/N sending her text off and receiving the text that he’d arrived. The promise of a break seemed too much for her brain to withstand, and she’d only managed to work out an answer for the RIN before she finally gave in and took off her glasses. After that, she’d only had time to shove her dirty clothes in the closet and straighten her sheets up from where they hung  off the bed before her phone buzzed.

Y/N put her phone back down, slipping out of her chair and padding across the still apartment towards the door. Pulling it open revealed Joaquín dressed in a maroon ASU hoodie and dark grey sweatpants. His hair was ruffled, and his own glasses were on. 

 Evidently he’d been studying for Circuits too. 

The corner of his mouth quirked up into a soft smile—the same one that he’d given her last fall when they met eyes across the crowded frat. She had known even then exactlywhat she’d be getting herself into if she smiled back. But there was something about the genuine delight in his smile–the fact that he looked almost awed–that had her lips curving into a smile almost on their own accord. Much like now. 

“Hey,” he whispered. 

Y/N leaned against the partially open door “Hey." 

"Is it cool that I parked in the lot?” he asked with raised eyebrows, and she nodded. 

“Yeah, they don’t usually check for tags at 3 am.”

Joaquín breathed out a laugh, hanging his head and shaking it as his own stupidity as Y/N smiled at him. “Yeah, I probably should have guessed that.” He looked back up at her with a small smirk, and it was Y/Ns turn to shake her own head before motioning with it that he should come in. He obliged, stepping into the small dark apartment and waiting for her to lock up behind him. 

He probably could have made his way back to her room without her, but instead he remained, eyes roaming over the dark living room and kitchenette as if it were his first time there and he was taking it all in. She took this as an act of kindness–a preservation of the little dignity she had left when it came to Joaquín Torres.

So, Y/N quietly led the way back to her room, ushering him in and closing the door as softly as possible behind them to avoid waking her roommate. 

When she turned back to him, she found Joaquín bent over her notes, curls falling into his face. He looked intently at what she had written, his eyes following along each line of her solution before he shook his head. “That problem’s been kicking my ass for the last hour,” he said, tilting his head to look up at her. “Think you could walk me through it tomorrow?" 

The sheepish grin he gave her made her stomach flip, and she really should have kicked herself for it. Because there was no way he didn’t know exactly what he was doing when he looked at her like that. And he knew that she knew what he was doing whenever he flashed his dimples too. And yet she still couldn’t find it in herself to tell him to go to hell.

"Depends how much sleep I get,” she said with a shrug, attempting to fix her face into something more smirklike than smiley and feeling like an utter failure at it.

His eyes gleamed mischievously as he straightened up and turned to face her. “How much sleep is enough?" 

She shrugged as she walked past him and over to the foot of her bed, setting herself down to sit on the edge and leaning back on her hands. "I don’t know, three hours? Four?" 

"What if it’s two and a half, but I buy you coffee,” he bargained, leaning back against her pushed-in chair with his arms crossed across his chest. 

“It’d need to be really good coffee." 

"Starbucks counts as really good coffee, right?" 

She scoffed, and Joaquín laughed softly, his head tipping back as the amusement lit his face up. When he faced her again, it was with an expression of warm amusement. "What if it’s Starbucks, but I make sure you thoroughlyenjoy all of the time you’re not sleeping tonight?” he asked, eyebrows raising up over his glasses as he took a step towards her. 

A tingle shot through Y/N as she followed his slow, purposeful movements towards her, and she fought the urge to press her legs together. “I guess that would depend on how thorough is ‘thoroughly’.” Somehow her voice managed to keep its teasing playfulness even as the look in Joaquín’s eyes became more focused, more intense, more hungry. 

He stopped in front of her, close enough that the fabric of his sweatpants brushed against her bare knees and she had to tilt her head up just to see his face. She raised an eyebrow at him, and while she had intended for it to be questioning–a prompt for an answer–she couldn’t keep the smirk from playing at the corners of her lips, turning the look into almost a challenge.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he lifted a hand, brushing her hair back behind her ear, his fingers trailing down her neck and along her shoulders until they reached the strap of her cropped cami. His pointer finger hooked under the strap and he pulled her towards him by the thin piece of silk, until her head was tipped all the way back just to see his face.

Joaquín leaned towards her, his breath warm and promising more than his words could ever deliver on. “Thorough,”he murmured, letting the word kiss across her skin, setting her nerves alight with anticipation before he closed the space and kissed her himself.

It was easy to get drunk off of Joaquín’s kisses. She wondered if this was simply a paired stimuli given the nature of their first encounters. If the dizzying effects his kisses had on her was her body remembering the weightlessness of too much Jungle Juice and a cute boy’s attention. If the way she seemed to melt into him was a conditioned response from him pulling her close to him so easily even when her limbs felt heavy from Jell-O Shots. 

But maybe it wasn’t classical conditioning or muscle memory. Maybe it was just the natural biological response to the way his hand took hold of her waist, squeezing at the bare skin there as he deepened the kiss and stepped forward, between her legs. Maybe it was just a natural reaction to feel lightheaded when an attractive boy slid his hand up under your crop top and moved his lips along your collarbone with each kiss like a whispered promise.

Her head lolled to the side, allowing him more room to work, and he took advantage of the newly exposed stretch of skin, placing hot, open mouthed kisses there. Y/N sank her teeth into her lip, biting down into it to keep herself from making any of the embarrassing sounds threatening to spill from her just from a bit of kissing. It was a pointless measure though, for as if inspired by her action, Joaquín’s teeth caught at the tender skin on her neck and pulled it into his mouth, sucking harshly. Her fingers curled into his shoulders, dragging him closer to her as he moved up her neck, picking a new spot to nip. A gasping noise escaped her as his tongue swiped over the spot, sounding far too much like a whimper for her own comfort. 

Joaquín dragged his lips further up her neck to just under her ear. “Fuck you make the most beautiful sounds,” he praised, pressing a kiss below her ear. “Drives me crazy."  He kissed her again before taking a hold of her ear with his teeth. 

Another noise, much like the first escaped her, and her fingers reached up into the hair at the nape of his neck, threading through the strands and then tugging him backwards and away from her so she could see his face. His glasses had slid down a bit on his nose, and his pupils were blown wide and dark, and she knew, she knew, that whatever happened next, it would be thorough enough.

"Did you come here to compliment me or to fuck me?" 

He grinned. ”Por qué no los dos?“ 

She leaned closer so that her lips almost brushed his as she demanded, ”Cógeme.“ 

Joaquín practically tore his sweatshirt and shirt from his body, his glasses catching in the material and flying off somewhere with the clothes to a corner of her room. Her own arms were crossed across her middle to pull off her top, but she didn’t get a chance before his hands wrapped under her knees and yanked her forward so her back fell onto the bed.  He knelt before her, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her pajama shorts and dragging them down her legs. 

His eyes snapped to hers as he pulled the silky fabric free of her legs. "Impatient, aren’t you?" 

Y/N reached down, flicking the side of his head. "It’s how I sleep." 

"Mhmm,” he hummed, disbelievingly as his eyes focused  back to her parted legs and her center that was completely bare to him, not a scrap of lace or satin or cotton or anything to shield it from his hungry gaze. He lifted her leg over his shoulder, pausing to press a kiss to the inside of her knee and then trailing a line of kisses and nips up to the top of her inner thigh. Y/N squirmed, and he chuckled, moving his other hand to her hip to hold her in place. “I haven’t even gotten to the good part." 

"I’m sensitive,” Y/N breathed out,

“I know,” Joaquín grinned, leaning forward to lick a large stripe through her folds, sending her arching off the bed with a gasping moan. “Qué buena estás." 

And then he dove back in. 

There were a lot of reasons why allowing Joaquín into her bed at three in the morning was a bad idea. 

For one thing, she really should have used the time to study for the test that would make up a solid third of her grade in a class that took many people two tries to pass. There was also the inevitable exhaustion that would probably affect her performance on that test. 

Then there was the fact that if they woke up her roommate, she would have to deal with side eyed glances, reproving sighs, and little comments for at least a week. Not to mention the fact that her roommate would probably tell the rest of their friends, and then she’d be getting it from all angles. 

But the biggest reason this was a bad idea, the reason with the most inevitable consequences, was the fact that he’d leave behind an ache that chased her throughout her morning, reminding her of how stupidshe was for doing this. 

But as she gripped onto Joaquín’s head like her life depended on it, hips chasing a release on his tongue, it was difficult to really think about any of that. It was difficult to think at all. All she could manage were small bits of breathy praise spurring him on.

"Fuck. Fuck yes, right–ah!” She threw her head back into the bed as he sucked harder around her clit. One hand freed itself from his curls,  clawing at the sheets to give herself more purchase as words left her in favor of high pitched, gasping noises that sounded vaguely like his name. And then, finally,  she could hardly get out any sound as a wave of pleasure coursed through her causing her whole body to go taut as Joaquín replaced  his tongue with his fingers to help her ride out the high.

“I’ve got you. I got you,” he reassured, coming back up her body to place kisses along her jaw as she slowly came down, chest heaving. Y/N pulled in deep breath as his lips continued to rove  around her chest and collarbone, neck and face, always whispering bits of praise before gracing her skin with a kiss. One hand slid across her bare stomach, taking hold of her waist as he gave one last kiss before looking up into her face. 

“And?” he asked with a small smirk.

“And?” she repeated in question, the word coming out more as an exhale.

“How am I doing so far? Thorough enough?” he asked, his hand inching up under her top to take hold of a bress. The pad of his thumb ran over the nipple there, and for a moment, Y/N’s mind went hazy. “Or is there something I’m forgetting to pay attention to?”

“I think you already know.” Despite the words themselves, her voice came out needy and airy, and it elicited a low chuckle from Joaquín whose hand retreated back to the edge of her top, teasing her with the promise of taking it off. 

“I want you to tell me." 

"Stop teasing me, and put that mouth to better use,” Y/N snapped, and he grinned this time. 

“Close enough,” he said, pulling her top up and over her head, flinging it away from them.

His mouth was truly a gift from God, but his hands, and the way they massaged her breast, twisted her nipple, worked her in ways that were positively sinful,they could only have been given that skill through a deal with the devil. So, she lay there, fingernails scratching at his shoulder blades as he worshiped her chest, switching between the breasts and from mouth to hands in ways that made her feel holy. Holy but aching. 

“Joaquín,” she mumbled, hand sliding from his shoulder to his bicep, pressing her away from him. He lifted himself from her skin, eyes meeting hers. “Flip over,” she commanded. His face lit up, and he complied so quickly and eagerly that Y/N laughed. 

Joaquín tucked his hands under his head, watching intently as Y/N moved to straddle him. “We can’t be too loud,” she whispered, placing a finger against his lips. “Ok?" 

"Got it,” he said, biting her finger playfully. She withdrew her finger from between his lips, running her hands down his muscled chest. It was almost criminal, the fact that he always wore loose fitting t-shirts instead of something that showed off the hard work ROTC had him put into his body.

She leaned down, allowing her tongue to explore the planes of his chest, dipping low to swirl around his belly button and lower to the center of his v line. Joaquín groaned, and Y/N hooked her fingers in the waistline of his boxers, dragging both the underwear and sweatpants down his legs and off his body. When she looked up at him, she found Joaquín’s gaze fixated on her. There was a quiet desperation to his look, not as needy as she was sure her own faces were, but almost like he was a second away from an answer, and she was the only one who could help him get it. 

Y/N crawled back up his body, taking his cock in her hand and teasing it with long, slow strokes. Under her, Joaquín’s eyes had closed, a grunt passing through his lips as he managed to lift a hand to take hold of her hip. Her thumb passed over the head, spreading the precum along his hardened length, her hand twisting around him before she dipped down and kissed the head of his cock. His hips jerked up from the bed, as if chasing her as she pulled away. Joaquín opened his eyes, casting her a look of confused desperation. 

“I’m not the one who made promises,” she said with a tilt of her head and a smirk. He let out a gasping laugh, pinching her hip, and she rolled over him leaving the boy groaning underneath her. 

“Hold on,” she said, pressing a hand to his chest and leaning up over him to reach into her side table. She fumbled around, fingers slipping over the contents of her drawer until at last the smooth feeling of the condom packet greeted her fingertips. She snatched it up, not even bothering to shove the drawer closed as she withdrew to her position over Joaquín’s hips, tearing open the package with her teeth. 

She probably could have been more sensual about it–moved a bit slower with teasing touches and seductive glances–but instead she tossed the empty wrapper and immediately went about rolling the condom over Joaquín’s waiting cock. Because while she probably could have withstood a little bit more anticipation, a little bit more build up until this moment why should she have to when she could have him now? 

Y/N raised herself a little higher, Joaquín’s hands coming to her hips and slowly guiding her down onto his waiting cock. He hissed as she lowered herself even further until he filled her completely. Y/N paused, hands flat against Joaquín’s chest to allow herself a moment to adjust to his size. “You good?” Joaquín asked, gently squeezing her side, and she nodded. 

“Yeah,” Y/N breathed. “Yeah, I’m ready." 

There was a reason she always seemed to cave whenever Joaquín texted her. A reason she never told him to go fuck himself or any of the other things her roommate and friends suggested she say. A reason she snuck him in and out of her bedroom late at night or times when most  people were at class.

And it wasn’t because she was stupid enough to have feelings for him again.

It was because he knew exactly what to do to make her body feel electric. It didn’t matter if he was letting her ride him slow, fucking her fast from behind, or clutching her close to him as he stroked hard and deep–he knew exactly what her body craved and he gave it to her. He gave it to her with murmured bits of Spanish and breathless cursing and moans that made her chest constrict. He gave it to her with fingers that circled her clit and twisted her nipples and pulled her hair at all the right times. He gave it to her with hot, hard, and fierce kisses.

And as much as he gave, it was never enough. 

Even after her second orgasm left her feeling close to overstimulated and boneless, she still clutched at him. While she hardly had enough energy to raise her hips to meet his thrust, she locked her legs around him and pulled him closer as he buried his face in her shoulder. She stayed with him as his hips stuttered and strokes got sloppy and it became clear that he was going to come. 

Admittedly, Joaquín’s orgasm face was rather dumb, ridiculous even, with his mouth hanging open and only a grunting sound coming out. But she kept her eyes trained on his face, not to remind her that this god in bed was a mere mortal who made stupid faces too, but because after he finished, when his face relaxed, he was nothing short of angelic. The corners of his mouth turned up just barely into a light smile and his eyes fluttered open and looked at her like she really was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

Joaquín placed a kiss on her shoulder as he helped to lower her legs back down to the bed, finally withdrawing from her to dispose of the condom in the trash by her bedside. It was all Y/N could do to catch her breath, her body hot and sweaty from the activity. Yet as Joaquín climbed back into the bed, she allowed him to pull her in close to him, arms wrapping around her, and chin resting on her shoulder. Because this was part of the deal with Joaquín and something that had almost made her doubt her initial assessment of him back when his body was brand new and she was still discovering all of the things it could do—after sex, he always stayed. Not necessarily the night, but long enough to hold and cuddle her and talk about things that didn’t matter. 

"Better than studying?” he asked, and she let out a snort and nodded. 

“Yeah." 

"Good enough for Starbucks?” he asked, tilting his head to try to look at her face, and this time she gave a full laugh. 

“I’ll meet you there at seven." 

Imagine you are Tony’s daughter, but he doesn’t believe you because, before you, there were twenty other people who said the same.

I was thinking if you guys would be interested in other fandoms? I was thinking Marvel and some other ones. 

Please let me know in the comments or send me a message. And also if you would like to send me some propositions on what I could try writing about, feel free to so. 

Not my gif credits to the original owner.  

ao3feed-frigga:

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/L7E9d6B

byblack_feather_fiction

Loki dies and that solves fewer problems than you’d think.

Thor 2011 “bad ending” AU that is inspired by another (marvellous) fanfic, Peripeteia by Infinite_Monkeys.
Odin falls into the Odinsleep already at the observatory, Thor thus never gets banished, misunderstandings around Loki’s heritage ensue that lead to Thor killing Loki, thinking he’s killing Loki’s murderer.
No one is having a good time about this.

This will be part 1 of a series - spoiler alert that I will bring back Loki in part 2 (because that’s just who I am).

Words: 3730, Chapters: 1/10, Language: English

• Fandoms:Marvel Cinematic Universe,Thor (Movies)
• Rating:Mature
• Warnings:Graphic Depictions Of Violence,Major Character Death
• Characters:Loki (Marvel),Thor (Marvel),Frigga | Freyja (Marvel),Odin (Marvel),Heimdall (Marvel),Laufey (Marvel),Sif (Marvel)
• Relationships:Loki & Thor (Marvel),Frigga | Freyja & Loki & Odin & Thor (Marvel),Heimdall & Loki (Marvel),Laufey & Loki (Marvel),Loki & Sif (Marvel)
• Additional Tags: Loki Dies (Marvel),I like killing Loki and bringing him back again,though the bringing back will only happen in the continuation so Loki is pretty dead in this one,Wakes & Funerals,Grief/Mourning,Fratricide,Thor kills Loki accidentally and no one is having a good time,Suicidal Thoughts,Thor Needs a Hug (Marvel),Everyone Needs A Hug,Death,Jotunn Loki (Marvel),Hurt Loki (Marvel),Guilt,Temporary Character Death,Angst,Tissue Warning,Hurt No Comfort,or very little comfort like if you blink you miss it,Thor 2011 AU,Odin’s Parenting (Marvel),Sad,Self-Indulgent,no beta we die like Odin which is self-indulgently,I bear the mark of the evil author,Graphic Description of Corpses,why do I make Thor kill Loki so often in my fics?

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/L7E9d6B

Fly Me to the Moon

• Marvel
• Bucky Barnes/Marc Spector
• ~700 words

Bucky surfaces slowly, blinking the sleep from his eyes, and pushes a few stray strands of hair back from his face. He takes almost a full second to marvel at the fact that he can actually–finally–wake up feeling safe and whole, then offers a sleepy smile to the glowing moonlight in the open window.

“Good night, Moon.” He yawns, but he’s still smiling.

“Christ, Barnes. Are you ever going to get tired of that joke?” Marc thumps his head against the window frame in mock irritation, then slides the rest of the way into the room. “It’s bad enough Morgan makes me read the damn book to her every time we’re at the Tower.”

“It doesn’t seem likely,” Bucky says. He’s propped up on one elbow, carefully looking Marc up and down to check for injuries. Marc pulls off his mask and flashes him a knowing look. Okay, so maybe not as subtle as he’d hoped.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Marc lets out a breath. “I’m fine, Buck. A little bruised, but nothing broken, nothing bleeding.” His voice is soft. Reassuring.

“Maybe I want to check for myself,” Bucky says with a wink. But he yawns again as soon as the words are out. Glancing at the glowing clock on his dresser he understands: just after two am. He’s only been in bed since midnight, no wonder he’s yawning.

Marc is there, pushing him back onto his pillow, hand cupping his cheek. “Not tonight, you don’t. You were out on mission for three days and only got back a few hours ago–no, don’t give me that look, Steve texted so I’d make sure you get enough sleep.” The pad of his thumb plays along Bucky’s cheek, calloused but still gentle. “So sleep. There’s time enough for the rest later.”

Bucky’s eyes are sliding closed when Marc drops a kiss on his forehead. He tips his face up for more, but before Marc gives him another kiss, Bucky’s already asleep.

…

Sometime later, through his haze of sleep, Bucky registers Marc slipping into the bed beside him, tangling their limbs together. Bucky breathes him in, clean and damp and smelling of apples from his shampoo. “Mmm.” Burying his face deeper into Marc’s neck, Bucky murmurs, “You smell good. Like home.”

Marc is quiet, but Bucky is awake enough to know it’s a thinking quiet rather than a sleeping quiet, so he waits, focusing on keeping his body from tensing up and showing distress. They don’t talk like this often, and sometimes it’s too much for Marc. So Bucky just breathes, giving Marc the space he needs.

Finally Marc says simply, “I missed you.”

Bucky can’t keep the smile from his lips as he presses a small kiss into Marc’s neck. Reaching up to twine his fingers into damp, dark curls, Bucky says, “I missed you, too.” He rolls himself over, just a little, so his head is resting on Marc’s chest. “Hey look,” he says, trying to keep the amusement from his voice. “I’m spending the night on the moon!”

Marc groans and shoves Bucky off. “Come on, I don’t sing ‘Winter Wonderland’ every time I see you coming.”

Bucky just laughs. “It’s not the same thing. I don’t walk around dressed like a snowman. You, on the other hand…”

“I don’t–” Marc starts, but thinks better of it. He pushes at Bucky, just enough to say fine, you win! without actually having to admit it. Bucky–still laughing, still sleepy–lets himself be manhandled into a position comfortable for both of them. Bucky ends up the little spoon, which is fine with him.

“Good night, sweetheart.” And then, having to get just one more in, he sings softly, “Fly me to the moon…”

He tries to keep it in, but after a few seconds Marc lets out a laugh. “You’re such a dork.” He holds Bucky a little tighter, then together they fall into sleep.

pietro-capimagines:

Hey babes, I hope you’re all having a lovely day. Today is my first day back from winter break, and let’s just say that I wish I could still be at home watching movies all day long. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the first official chapter of “Why Not Me?” and I love you all. xx

Summary: You and Steve have been together for three years and a seemingly pleasant day turned sour when disaster hits the city. When having to choose between saving you or a civilian, he doesn’t choose you..

Warnings: Angst. Violence. Death(?)

MASTERLIST

---

You unraveled your earbuds from your bag and placed them in your ears. Although it was New York City, it felt good to go outside, to breathe in the smell of the flowers that lined the window sill of the small businesses that were on your street. The sound of cars were overwhelming, but it was all drowned out by some of your songs that you put into a playlist for you and Steve. Ever since the two of you were together, it became one of your things to share music with each other. It felt like you were giving a piece of yourself to him with every song. And well, this playlist was filled with songs the two of you shared with each other, as well as ones that happened to be playing during special moments in your relationship. 

As you rounded to corner, a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth when the song that was on the moment Steve first kissed you started playing. That was almost three years ago.. And it had been three years of pure bliss and happiness. 

The small bell of the coffee shop door rang as you walked in. 

“Ah, good morning, Ms. F/N.” The man behind the counter gave you a nod as you walked over to the register, taking out your headphones. 

“Good morning, Mr. Sherman.” You gave him an adoring smile. Mr. Sherman had owned the coffee shop for over thirty years and ever since you and Steve started coming there, both of you had been two of his favorite customers. 

“The usual? And let me guess, Steve wants his usual order, too?” He rubbed his graying beard. You puckered your lips to the side, casting your eyes to the ceiling playfully. The two of you burst into a fit of laughter as you nodded. “I’ll get that ready for you.” Mr. Sherman went to making your coffee while his other employee warmed your pastries. 

You leaned against one of the tables, pulling out your phone. You texted Steve that you were going to be on your way back in about five minutes, and he responded with: 

Okay baby. Maybe after breakfast we can finish what we started? ;) 

You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh as you replied. 

Oh Steve.. *eye roll* 

Your attention was drawn away from your phone when you heard Mr. Sherman’s voice. “I got your order ready for you, F/N.” He had walked out from behind the counter to personally hand it to you. You thanked him, and gave him a warm smile. “Be safe on your walk home, okay? And tell that stinker Steve that he needs to stop by soon. I haven’t seen that guy in a while.” 

“I am always am. And I’ll be sure to kick his butt out of bed next time, so you can see him.” He smelled of coffee beans and sugar as you hugged him goodbye and went on your way. 

That day was going so well that you were even humming a tune on your way back to the apartment. You waved at all the shop owners you knew, greeting them good morning, saying hello. All the people who worked or lived on your street loved you. You were so radiant and beautiful, you brightened everyone’s day. 

As you crossed the street, there was a loud rumble from beneath you. The people around you screamed, but you were silent as you began to lose your footing on the ground. This was no earthquake. No earthquake could tear buildings apart with such force and have it all crumble in one blow. You were frozen in the middle of the street as you watched the book store get torn apart; pieces of glass being ripped through the air, and sticking wherever that may have been. Tears welled up in your eyes as the beautiful place you lived was being destroyed right in front of you. The fear inside you crept up from your chest and lodged itself in your throat, making you unable to speak, and unable to move. 

You felt a warm liquid on your shirt, thinking it was just your tears. But as you looked down, the burgundy color of your blood was spreading itself over your shirt. A large shard of glass had lodged itself into your abdomen. There was no pain. You were in a state of shock and the adrenaline had numbed your whole body. All you felt was the lightheadedness that ultimately won the battle in your body, and the next thing you knew, your cheek was pressed against the black concrete. The glass had been pressed even further into you when you fell on your stomach. The spikes of pain began to surge through your muscles, and you were pulled out of shock. 

Your mind was still going at a hundred miles an hour and the only thought on your mind was Steve. Was he okay? Did your apartment building get swept away while he was still in it? Or did he make it out? 

Maybe he’s coming.. he’ll find you. It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. You’ll see him again. 

You couldn’t move. The glass was beginning to rip apart your insides as it was being jolted back and forth as you laid on the ground. The sounds of what felt like the apocalypse were deafening, and soon everything began to move in slow motion. You coughed, the taste of iron hitting your tongue. The pain began to fade away, and soon, you were no longer hurting. You watched as the adjacent street cracked, tearing it in half. 

There was another woman in the distance, stuck under a fallen light pole. You saw the crack ran down the entirety of the street, the concrete crumbling into the gap. The pole was pressing harder onto her as its weight was being drawn into the split, wanting to take her with it. 

Your eyes flitted away, landing on a tall blonde man standing on your side of the street. 

“Steve…” Your voice gurgled as the blood collected in your throat. You lifted a finger towards in with the little strength you had left. Tears were welling up in your eyes. He’s here. It’s going to be okay. You saw his pained expression, the dread painted on his face. His attention was then drawn to the woman beneath the light pole. He looked back at you, conflicted. 

As darkness began to envelope your vision, the last thing you saw was Steve running away from you to the other side of the street. The last thing you felt was something that felt like a massive blow to the chest, like someone had thrown a brick at your ribcage before everything faded away. And the last thing he saw when he looked back at you, your now lifeless form, was a single tear rolling down your pale cheek. 

“What have I done?” 

---

I hoped y’all liked it! Sorry it’s a day late, I had an audition last night and wasn’t able to write anything till 11pm. But, I’ll keep this updated as much as I can. Hopefully, I can have the second chapter up by early next week. xoxo I love you guys. 

TAGLIST IS OPEN. 

Taglist: 

@starkspangledbarnes@teenwolflover1217@ab-haya@abbiestyles18xo@moonandstars-xo@prettyyoungtragedy@mp8130@thatpeachchic@its-sophia-xo-love@projectxhappiness@barely-emily@purplekitten30@booksb4boys69@fandomlover2001@buckysplumfondler@debbielovesbucky@badassbaker@life-is-fuucked@elwenia@justmasblack@addictionmarvel@astrolokies@itsemmyb@cakeisforchumps@luv2reade16@alwayshave-faith@stay-wokke

Hey babes, I hope you’re all having a lovely day. Today is my first day back from winter break, and let’s just say that I wish I could still be at home watching movies all day long. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the first official chapter of “Why Not Me?” and I love you all. xx

Summary: You and Steve have been together for three years and a seemingly pleasant day turned sour when disaster hits the city. When having to choose between saving you or a civilian, he doesn’t choose you..

Warnings: Angst. Violence. Death(?)

MASTERLIST

You unraveled your earbuds from your bag and placed them in your ears. Although it was New York City, it felt good to go outside, to breathe in the smell of the flowers that lined the window sill of the small businesses that were on your street. The sound of cars were overwhelming, but it was all drowned out by some of your songs that you put into a playlist for you and Steve. Ever since the two of you were together, it became one of your things to share music with each other. It felt like you were giving a piece of yourself to him with every song. And well, this playlist was filled with songs the two of you shared with each other, as well as ones that happened to be playing during special moments in your relationship. 

As you rounded to corner, a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth when the song that was on the moment Steve first kissed you started playing. That was almost three years ago.. And it had been three years of pure bliss and happiness. 

The small bell of the coffee shop door rang as you walked in. 

“Ah, good morning, Ms. F/N.” The man behind the counter gave you a nod as you walked over to the register, taking out your headphones. 

“Good morning, Mr. Sherman.” You gave him an adoring smile. Mr. Sherman had owned the coffee shop for over thirty years and ever since you and Steve started coming there, both of you had been two of his favorite customers. 

“The usual? And let me guess, Steve wants his usual order, too?” He rubbed his graying beard. You puckered your lips to the side, casting your eyes to the ceiling playfully. The two of you burst into a fit of laughter as you nodded. “I’ll get that ready for you.” Mr. Sherman went to making your coffee while his other employee warmed your pastries. 

You leaned against one of the tables, pulling out your phone. You texted Steve that you were going to be on your way back in about five minutes, and he responded with: 

Okay baby. Maybe after breakfast we can finish what we started? ;) 

You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh as you replied. 

Oh Steve.. *eye roll* 

Your attention was drawn away from your phone when you heard Mr. Sherman’s voice. “I got your order ready for you, F/N.” He had walked out from behind the counter to personally hand it to you. You thanked him, and gave him a warm smile. “Be safe on your walk home, okay? And tell that stinker Steve that he needs to stop by soon. I haven’t seen that guy in a while.” 

“I am always am. And I’ll be sure to kick his butt out of bed next time, so you can see him.” He smelled of coffee beans and sugar as you hugged him goodbye and went on your way. 

That day was going so well that you were even humming a tune on your way back to the apartment. You waved at all the shop owners you knew, greeting them good morning, saying hello. All the people who worked or lived on your street loved you. You were so radiant and beautiful, you brightened everyone’s day. 

As you crossed the street, there was a loud rumble from beneath you. The people around you screamed, but you were silent as you began to lose your footing on the ground. This was no earthquake. No earthquake could tear buildings apart with such force and have it all crumble in one blow. You were frozen in the middle of the street as you watched the book store get torn apart; pieces of glass being ripped through the air, and sticking wherever that may have been. Tears welled up in your eyes as the beautiful place you lived was being destroyed right in front of you. The fear inside you crept up from your chest and lodged itself in your throat, making you unable to speak, and unable to move. 

You felt a warm liquid on your shirt, thinking it was just your tears. But as you looked down, the burgundy color of your blood was spreading itself over your shirt. A large shard of glass had lodged itself into your abdomen. There was no pain. You were in a state of shock and the adrenaline had numbed your whole body. All you felt was the lightheadedness that ultimately won the battle in your body, and the next thing you knew, your cheek was pressed against the black concrete. The glass had been pressed even further into you when you fell on your stomach. The spikes of pain began to surge through your muscles, and you were pulled out of shock. 

Your mind was still going at a hundred miles an hour and the only thought on your mind was Steve. Was he okay? Did your apartment building get swept away while he was still in it? Or did he make it out? 

Maybe he’s coming.. he’ll find you. It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. You’ll see him again. 

You couldn’t move. The glass was beginning to rip apart your insides as it was being jolted back and forth as you laid on the ground. The sounds of what felt like the apocalypse were deafening, and soon everything began to move in slow motion. You coughed, the taste of iron hitting your tongue. The pain began to fade away, and soon, you were no longer hurting. You watched as the adjacent street cracked, tearing it in half. 

There was another woman in the distance, stuck under a fallen light pole. You saw the crack ran down the entirety of the street, the concrete crumbling into the gap. The pole was pressing harder onto her as its weight was being drawn into the split, wanting to take her with it. 

Your eyes flitted away, landing on a tall blonde man standing on your side of the street. 

“Steve…” Your voice gurgled as the blood collected in your throat. You lifted a finger towards in with the little strength you had left. Tears were welling up in your eyes. He’s here. It’s going to be okay. You saw his pained expression, the dread painted on his face. His attention was then drawn to the woman beneath the light pole. He looked back at you, conflicted. 

As darkness began to envelope your vision, the last thing you saw was Steve running away from you to the other side of the street. The last thing you felt was something that felt like a massive blow to the chest, like someone had thrown a brick at your ribcage before everything faded away. And the last thing he saw when he looked back at you, your now lifeless form, was a single tear rolling down your pale cheek. 

“What have I done?” 

I hoped y’all liked it! Sorry it’s a day late, I had an audition last night and wasn’t able to write anything till 11pm. But, I’ll keep this updated as much as I can. Hopefully, I can have the second chapter up by early next week. xoxo I love you guys. 

TAGLIST IS OPEN. 

Taglist: 

@starkspangledbarnes@teenwolflover1217@ab-haya@abbiestyles18xo@moonandstars-xo@prettyyoungtragedy@mp8130@thatpeachchic@its-sophia-xo-love@projectxhappiness@barely-emily@purplekitten30@booksb4boys69@fandomlover2001@buckysplumfondler@debbielovesbucky@badassbaker@life-is-fuucked@elwenia@justmasblack@addictionmarvel@astrolokies@itsemmyb@cakeisforchumps@luv2reade16@alwayshave-faith@stay-wokke

I’m. Freaking. Back.

It’s been a long time coming guys… Thank you to all of you who continued to follow me and show love and support for my fics by reblogging them and still sending in requests. My message box is overflowing with suggestions that I haven’t looked at yet so I’m going to give my list a once-over and add any new requests.

THAT BEING SAID, I’m expanding my fics! Not only am I going to continue to write for Supernatural and GoT but I’m also including Marvel in my list because quite a few people have asked for some Marvel fics and I really enjoy a lot of the characters involved in the MCU.

Dance with me

(Dance with me, part II)

Bucky x fem!reader

Warnings: angst/hurt; mentions of assault, Non-Con (not graphic);

18+; please pay attention to the warnings.

It had been almost three weeks since that night in that no name town. Three weeks since Bucky kissed you on the dance floor, and then again outside of the bar, as the team giggled and stumbled their way back to the Quinn jet. You had laid your head against Bucky’s shoulder as the plane’s autopilot feature brought you all home, and listened to the laughter of your family, as they planned the next getaway. And in that moment, Bucky’s gloved hand entwined in yours, you felt like you were in paradise. A little bubble that nobody could break.

But as soon as the plane landed, and everyone stumbled to bed, it was as if the world shifted and the feelings you had on that dance floor turned into memories. And Bucky slipped away like sand through your fingers.

It started small. You’d place a hand on his shoulder as you passed in the kitchen, and he’d glance up and give you a small smile before excusing himself to the gym. You had figured he was just getting back into his routine, which was completely fine, you had your own to return to. But it started to weigh on you the more he pulled away. You’d gesture for him to sit in the seat you saved during movie night, but he’d flop down on the floor near Sam, pretending to be engaged in whatever random thing Sam was talking about. And yeah, that had hurt. More than you wanted to admit. But you’d give him space because you wanted him in your life, and you figured he’d come around eventually. You were sure that the kiss meant something to him. To you both. He’d come around.

That was weeks ago.

The team had been discussing the next outing, deciding to just stay in New York and deal with the crowds and attention as it came. Tony planned to research a darker, smaller bar, away from the hustle and bustle of the city, so things would go as smooth as they did last time. And you all deserved it. Nat was still recovering from a recent mission that had her out of commission the last few days, locked in her room, refusing to see anyone. She finally emerged and announced this outing, insisting that the entire team needed it. You had looked at Bucky timidly, but he averted his eyes, smiling at Sam being pulled away by Nat to secretly discuss their next karaoke performance. The team was abuzz as Tony returned with the name of a bar close to the outskirts of the city, and everyone went their separate ways to get ready for the night. Everyone but you and Bucky. He looked tense, both hands clamped to the side of the island table in the kitchen, and you approached him cautiously.

“Hey, Bucky?” You whispered, watching carefully as his head jerked up looking at you fully for the first time in weeks, before letting out a deep breath, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. Just as soon as it was there, Bucky was stone faced again, wrenching his hands from the table and facing you.

“Hey,” he responded, glancing behind him, almost as if he was plotting his escape through some secret hatch.

“Hey,” you said again, suddenly nervous. Bucky glanced back at you, a look of impatience in his eye, and your cheeks heated in response. You took a breath, stealing yourself for the conversation you knew you needed to finally have with the super soldier in front of you.

“Bucky, can we talk about what happened?” Bucky met your eyes briefly, letting out a puff of air and running his hand through his cropped hair.

“What do you mean?” You let out a frustrated breath, scoffing at his feigned ignorance, Bucky giving you a weary look.

“You know what I’m talking about, Bucky. You’ve been avoiding me for weeks.” Though you fought it, your breath hitched on the last word, and Bucky’s eyes shot up to yours, bright and alert. He took a half a step toward you, before thinking twice and taking two steps back. In any other moment it would have been comical to see such a tough man so nervous, but you waited patiently for him to finally engage with you somehow. He let out another breath, glancing down at the floor.

“Sweetheart…” He paused, considering his next words. “I shouldn’t have gotten so caught up in the moment.” He finally blurred out, eyes rising to meet yours. “Your friendship means too much to me, I can’t risk losing that.” You stood silent as his words washed over you, confusion quickly morphing into anger. Bucky took your silence as an answer and gave you a weak smile, before turning on his heel and heading toward the exit behind you.

“My friendship?!” You spun around and shot at his back, making him jolt to a stop in the doorway. “You’ve been ignoring me for weeks, Bucky,” you continued, keeping your voice more measured and even.

“If you didn’t like me, all you had to do was say so.” Your voice came out a level above a whisper, as you confessed what was weighing on you for weeks. Bucky kept his back turned to you, and you were silently begging him to turn around, to say anything to deny what you had just said. But the soldier simply hung his head and exited, never once turning around to see the tears slip down your cheeks.

You swiped at both cheeks angrily and stomped to the third floor toward where Nat and Wanda were surely getting ready for the night. You bust through the door, heading to Nat’s closet, muttering “I need to borrow a dress.” As you rifled through the fabric hanging in the closet, you didn’t catch the worried look the two women exchanged behind you.

————————

Tony was right that the bar was quiet, but there were still quite a few people huddled around and moving on the dance floor, the DJ pumping out a top 40 dance remix, much to Nat and Sam’s chagrin.

But after a few shots of whiskey that you made them take with you, they were more than willing to pull you with them in the dance floor, the red cocktail dress you borrowed from Nat threatening to expose you with every move you made. As you waltzed through Nat’s room earlier you vowed to forget about Bucky, even if just for tonight, and your plan was working for the most part. When a pair of muscular arms snaked around your waist, and a voice muttered “dance with me?” in your ear, you were brought back to the night a few weeks ago, but you nodded your head, and the four shots in your system did their job, forcing you to sway back and forth with the stranger, shaking your hips.

The stranger looked pleasant enough, shoulder length blonde hair briefly making you think of Bucky again, but you pushed the thought out of your head and tried to focus on the strangers hands warm at your lower back. You closed your eyes and leaned into the man when Tony had walked up, pulling you roughly from the stranger’s hands.

“What are you doing?” Tony yelled over the fast beat of the music, shooting a warning look at the man’s protests behind you. You pushed against Tony’s arms, but his grip was firm, so you looked up at him, Tony’s eyes softening as you met them.

“Are you okay?” He practically mimed, struggling to be heard over the music. You nodded yes before Tony’s attention was pulled from you by a few screaming drunk girls wanting to take a picture.

You took advantage of your “dad’s” distraction to pull out of his grasp and shimmy back to the stranger, taking the shot he offered you in one gulp, and wincing as the liquid burned its way down your throat. The music changed to something a bit slower, and the man wrapped his arms respectfully around your waist, you placing your hands on his shoulder. Though you were looking into green eyes, you were imagining blue ones, and a hint of vanilla and spice hit your nostrils. You looked around, but Bucky was nowhere in sight so you settled into the strangers embrace, hoping to get the blue eyes out of your mind, even if just for one song.

As you continued to sway, your mind began to get a bit fuzzy, vision blurring, and you tried to remember how many shots you had taken. Surely it wasn’t more than four or five; you would be drunk, but not this drunk.

You continued to try to shake the haze from your mind, not realizing the man was slowly backing you off of the dance floor away from your friends and down a hallway toward what must be the bathroom. You tried to push out of his grasp, but you were spiraling fast, and halfway down the hall, the man was practically dragging you toward the woman’s bathroom his hands under your armpits. You tried to protest as the door to the bathroom swung open and you were dropped with a thud onto the floor inside, but your mouth wouldn’t move, your brain struggling to send the words to your lips. Your vision was darkening at the edges and you couldn’t make out who was crawling on top of you anymore, or whose hands were hiking up your dress and yanking down your underwear, the elastic burning across your thighs. You moved your hands weakly pushing at the man’s, who slapped them away easily. You hadn’t felt so human for decades, and the thought had you spiraling further into your drunk, and drugged mind. You were numb to the entire situation, blacking out as you heard the clank of a belt buckle.

You were awakened what had to have been hours later by a scream, and water being thrown on your face. You didn’t react, unable to process what was happening to you, simply opening your eyes, and looking up into wild red hair.

“Y/N! Oh my god baby!” Wanda was screaming gripping your shoulders and pulling your body into her lap, struggling with your dead limbs. But all you could think was that Wanda had never called you “baby” before. Even when you were laying up in the hospital with several broken ribs and a massive concussion. It wasn’t like she was emotionless, but pet names were never a thing between you two. What happened? You felt Wanda’s warm hands smooth down your legs and you flinched at her touch.

“I know, baby, I’m sorry,” she replied, an octave or two away from speaking to a toddler. “I’m just fixing your dress.” Taking in her words, you had a sudden flashback to the clinking of a belt buckle, and the calluses on the stranger’s hands. You felt a tear slip out from your eyes, and you wanted to swipe at it angrily, but you couldn’t make your limbs move the way you wanted them to. Your arms felt like they did when you slept on them wrong and it took a minute for the blood to return and allow them to function. You were too lost in that thought to focus on what was happening around you.

Between whispers to you, Wanda continued to shout toward the exit, until Nat finally strutted in, unaware of what she was about to see as she casually came through the door.

“Wanda, what are you shouting fo—” she stopped mid sentence, taking in the scene in front of her, her mouth twisting into a perfect ‘o’ complete shock forming on her face.

“Nat, get Bucky, please, I can’t lift her.” You could tell by Wanda’s voice that she was crying, and by the way Nat spun on her heel and rushed out the door, it was obvious that the situation wasn’t good. The weight of it all hit you, and a flood of tears leaked out of your eyes, a soft moan coming out of your mouth.

“Shhh, baby, it’s all gonna be fine. I’m just gonna move you away from the door okay?” You tried to nod, but your head merely lulled to the side and you tried to confirm for Wanda to move your lower half away from the door, your dignity on display for everyone with your short dress and discarded underwear. Wanda scooted slowly on her knees, pivoting your body so your feet were pointed at the sinks, pulling your dress down the best she could, and smoothing down your hair. You laid there another minute or two, when the door opened again, revealing a solemn Natasha, and panicking Bucky. You refused to meet his eyes as he rushed through the door, Nat locking it behind them for privacy.

Bucky threw himself on the floor next to you, shouting at Nat and Wanda to tell him what happened, and you had the sudden urge to yell at him to stop shouting at the two women, but your lips and throat disobeyed you, nothing but a tiny squeak emitting from your lips.

“She had been dancing with that guy…” Wanda began, explaining that she noticed you had disappeared from the dance floor and had found you laying on the floor passed out moments ago. Her words had your shooting your eyes up to look into hers. You had only been in the bathroom a few minutes? It felt like hours since the stranger pulled you in here. Wanda left out many of the details of how she truly found you, but Bucky was smart enough to put the pieces together, glancing around you and spotting the ruined piece of fabric, bunched up near where you were sprawled out. Bucky let out a noise at the realization that sounded more like a growl than anything else, and rose to his feet in one quick motion, walking purposefully toward the door. You watched him with your eyes, as Nat put her hands on his chest, halting his movements.

“Barnes, stop.” She commanded, using her best in charge voice.

“We don’t have time to kill him, Tony can track him down later. We need your help to get Y/N out of here, me and Wanda can’t lift her on our own.” Bucky stopped at her words, glancing back over his shoulder and looking into your eyes. Whatever he saw there must have made his decision for him, because he stomped back to your side, and lifted you effortlessly into his arms. Despite your broken heart screaming at you to stop, you lifted your head as much as you could and rested it into the crook of Bucky’s neck, reveling in his warmth. Wanda reached up gently to fix your dress and you cursed your decisions hours ago to wear such a revealing garment. Not because of what happened to you, but for the impracticality of it. With you securely in his arms, Bucky headed toward the door Nat unlocking it, but pausing before opening it.

“I’ll keep an eye out for the guy while you take Y/N home. Wanda, you’ll tell everyone Y/N got sick and Barnes is taking her home. I know it’s not ideal, but Tony and Sam will burn this place to the ground with everyone in it if they find out wha happened to her right now.” Bucky let out a low growl again at Nat’s words, but she ignored him, continuing with her plan.

“We’ll discuss what to do when we get back to the compound.” Wanda nodded in response, Bucky simply fixing his gaze on the door waiting for Nat to open it. You let a few tears slip from your eyes as you listed to the plan, the drop of them against his neck making Bucky flinch, which made the tears come faster. Nat opened the door after another beat and everyone went their separate ways, her and Wanda back to the noise of the bar, and Bucky out a side door marked “employees only,” that thankfully led outside.

You figured Bucky would hail a cab, but were surprised when he stepped onto the sidewalk taking purposeful steps toward the Avengers compound. It would be a long, quiet walk, so you moved your head the slightest bit closer into the crook of Bucky’s neck, seeking comfort more than anything. You could feel how tense Bucky was, and you weren’t sure what was making him more tense, the anger you could feel coursing through his body, or the discomfort from having you in his arms. Either way you wished more than anything that you were able to ask what was going on in his head. Almost as if he read your mind, Bucky spoke to you for the first time since your conversation in the kitchen hours earlier.

“I was outside,” he started. His voice rough and full of unreadable emotion.

“I was outside when Nat found me.” You couldn’t move your head to look into his eyes, so you fluttered your eyelids against his neck slowly, hoping that let him know you were listening.

“I couldn’t stand seeing you in that guys arms. The way he whispered in your ear and you rewarded him with a full smile. I couldn’t take it. So I went outside. And he—“ he trailed off, unable to say the words, his jaw clenching.

“He hurt you while I was outside.” You felt Bucky’s arms tense around you as he spoke, and you heard the regret, and anguish he was feeling. But also the red hot anger. You couldn’t respond, even with a million thought flying through your mind, but you didn’t have the chance to anyway as you neared the blue lights of the compound, and Bucky hurried his steps.

Bucky rushed up the stairs of the building heading toward the fourth floor and opening the door to his room, and you were hit with the unmistakable scent of Bucky once again, a wave of comfort washing over you. He set you lightly on his bed, fixing the pillow under your head, and disappearing, returning a second later with two glasses of water and a salt shaker. He slowly positioned your body to a sitting position, placing the first glass of water to your lips, being careful to guide the liquid into your mouth the best he could. When you’d drank some of the water, Bucky placed it back on the bedside table, hesitating, before grabbing the next glass and dumping the entire salt shaker into it, spinning the liquid around to mix it, and looking back at you.

“Sweetheart,” you were used to pet names from Bucky, but this time a jolt ran through you, as you heard concern and love in his voice for the first time in weeks. He looked a bit panicked again, unsure of what he was about to say, so you tried to urge him on with a raise of your eyebrows, your facial muscles unfreezing a bit. Bucky sighed before continuing.

“I think he drugged you, sweetheart. And you should try and throw up to see if it helps.” Bucky was still holding you in a sitting position, but your head felt less and less heavy sitting on your neck, and you were able to nod up and back down once, Bucky giving you a small smile, before hoisting you into his arms again, grabbing the salt water, and heading into his bathroom, where he sat you gently in the bathtub leaning you against the edge to grab some towels from under the sink.

“Okay, doll,” Bucky said with a small grimace. “This is going to suck a bit.” You blew some air out of your lips, and raised your eyebrows again, urging Bucky to continue. He lifted the cloudy water to your lips and tilted your head back so some of it could fall down your throat. Almost immediately, a warmth was flooding to your throat, and your body heaved. Bucky removed the glass, tipping your head forward as you threw up onto the towel Bucky had laid across your lap.

“That’s so good, baby, almost done.” Bucky muttered as you sputtered a few times, dry heaving once more before you were done, your body slumping in exhaustion. Bucky wiped the sweat from your forehead and used another towel to wipe around your mouth, throwing both to the other end of the tub, and hoisting you up and back into his arms. You were dizzy from the motion, but could already tell your limbs were beginning to cooperate, and you were able to hold your head up better.

Bucky laid you gently back on the bed, turning to his closet to get you something different to wear. You were able to slowly scoot yourself to the headboard, a quiet thud sounding as your back hit it, Bucky glancing back at you, a small smile on his face as he saw what you were doing. You still felt incredibly foggy, and couldn’t form a complete sentence, but you were able to move your arms a little, elbows stiff from not being used in awhile. And you could feel some bruising developing across your back from where you were dropped casually to the floor of the bathroom. Bucky returned with one of his shirts and a pair of sweatpants, holding both out for you. You grabbed the shirt slowly, your arm trembling a bit from the motion, and Bucky dropped the sweatpants to the floor, turning to give you some privacy.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice coming out barely audible, like a puff of air. You slowly pulled the straps of Nat’s dress down, setting a mental reminder to wash it before returning it to her, and slipping Bucky’s shirt over your head. You lifted your hips and pushed the material off the dress down your legs and settled the shirt to rest against your upper thighs, leaning against the headboard again. The serum was helping you recover faster, you could tell, but the act of dressing had you exhausted, practically huff and puffing like you ran a marathon. Bucky waited a beat more, before glancing over his shoulder to see that you were finished.

He reached for your discarded dress, folding it and placing it on the chair near where you sat, moving his weight from foot to foot, as he looked anywhere but at you.

“You must be exhausted.” He finally said, glancing at you to see you nod once in response. He seemed to relax at that, and motioned to the bed continuing.

“You can stay here if you want, I’ll sleep on the couch over there of course.” You stared into Bucky’s eyes as he finally looked into yours, before he turned and headed toward the couch. You gathered up all your courage and took a deep breath to make sure you were heard.

“Bucky,” you started, The soldier turning around and letting out a soft “hm?” in response.

“Please, stay with me tonight.” You hadn’t wanted to sound as desperate as you did, but the entire night all you had wanted was Bucky, and that hadn’t changed. When he came storming into the bathroom earlier you couldn’t deny that you were glad it was him coming to save the day. You were far from a damsel in distress most days, but feeling like Bucky cared tonight eased some of the hurt from the conversation earlier in the kitchen. Bucky seemed to weigh his options, chewing on his bottom lip as he thought before slowly nodding and coming to sit at the end of the bed, pulling the comforter back so you could slide down to a laying position.

“I’ll be right here, doll.” Bucky whispered, clicking off the lamp by the bed, the quiet and the dark calming the mood in the room. As you tucked yourself under the blankets and into a little ball, you reached out for Bucky, grabbing hold of his right hand tight, as if he were the only thing anchoring you to reality right now, which was probably more true than not. You’d never admit it, but you were terrified of what awaited you behind closed eyelids. Would you dream of the bathroom?

You couldn’t remember what had happened on the cold floor earlier and the realization had you shivering, and you felt Bucky tuck the blanket around your legs a little tighter, mistaking your body’s movement for being cold. You smiled at him gently, as he slowly moved his thumb across the back of your hand, holding it tight in his own. Your eyelids were beginning to droop when you heard crashing and raised voices from the floor below, where the main living room and kitchen was. Bucky let out a long breath, and pulled your hand away from his, looking into your eyes to see you were still awake.

“I’ll be right back, Y/N, okay? I’m going to go see what’s going—“ you gripped his hand tight again, not letting him finish his thought, silently begging him to not leave you alone. He gently pulled his hand away again, giving you a reassuring smile.

“I promise I’ll be right back. 5 minutes, okay?” You only looked at him, and he leaned forward slowly, placing a soft kiss to your forehead, moving back when he heard another crash from below.

As he reached the door he turned back toward you, uttering out a quick “get some sleep,” before disappearing through the door, closing it with a soft click.

And suddenly, you were alone.

A/N: I’m not sure how I feel about this one, and I’m sorry if it’s not what people expected… it’s just kind of where the story led me, for better or worse. Probably a part 3 coming.

Tags:@taina-eny;@meisspookycrayon

Summary: In the blink of an eye, this complete stranger suddenly became your only lifeline.

Pairing:Bucky x y/n

Word Count:4k

Warnings:Language

Author’s Note: So, I’m not dead. To any new followers I’ve gained since my last post, welcome, thank you and sorry for my unbelievably crap posting schedule. To all my old followers, thank you for sticking around, I appreciate you v much. Hope this story is alright, just trying to get back into the swing of things with a quick oneshot. Love y’all.

—

Same nose, similar ears. The ears usually give it away. But then, one redhead and one blonde? Maybe they’re- shit, a kiss. Didn’t guess in time. Damn, I am not doing well today, won’t be breaking my record streak anytime soo-

‘You alright?’

You snapped back to reality, eyes flicking away from the front window to focus on the broad man who’d appeared on the opposite side of the counter.

‘Hmm, what?’ It took a good few seconds for you to remember where you were. ‘Yeah, sorry, what can I get you?’

He tried to suppress the deep chuckle vibrating through his chest. ‘Black coffee, two sugars.’

‘Something funny?’

‘No, just uh-’ he glanced away for a second, embarrassed, obviously not registering your playful tone, ‘that’s the third time I asked. You must’a been miles away.’

While he was hesitating, you’d taken a quick second to scan your eyes him. He was wearing a pair of old, worn-out jeans and a dark jacket, an outfit you wouldn’t have looked twice at if it weren’t for the single, black leather glove that covered his left hand. Your eyebrows scrunched slightly in confusion when you spotted it, then quickly relaxed again when you decided to write it off as some kind of odd fashion statement. He couldn’t have been too late into his thirties, but his right hand was calloused and weathered, so much so that it looked as though should’ve belonged to someone twice his age. His rough stubble obviously hadn’t been touched with a razor for a good few days and you weren’t entirely confident he’d showered this week yet, somehow, he was kinda pulling it off.

You shuffled towards the coffee machine to start his order. ‘Sorry, I was just thinking.’

‘Anything worth sharing?’

‘Not really, I was just playing a stupid game. Helps pass the time when it’s slow.’

He shrugged slightly, a faint smile appearing as he replied. ‘I like games.’

You were quiet for a second, trying to size this stranger up. His eyebrows slowly crept up his forehead in anticipation.

‘It’s gonna sound weird, but sometimes I like trying to guess what kinda relationship people have before they give it away.’ You knew you were coming across crazy even as the words were leaving your lips. ‘Like, those two holding hands outside? At first I thought maybe they were brother and sister. Same ears.’

He quickly glanced at them over his shoulder. ‘You do that all day? Surely most people aren’t hard to figure out.’

‘You’d think so,’ you leaned in and tried your best to maintain a sincere expression, ‘but every so often you come across a couple with a huge age gap and it rocks your damn world.’

A rumbling laugh escaped from his throat which set you off giggling as you secured the lid of his takeout cup and placed in front of him.

‘Two fifty.’

He grabbed the drink with his gloved hand and rustled around in his pocket with the other, eventually pulling out a crumpled five dollar note and sliding it across the counter.

‘Keep the change,’ he quickly clocked your stunned expression, ‘for the entertainment.’

‘Wow, thanks. Have fun playing.’

‘I definitely will.’

You kept your eyes glued to him as he strode through the door and past the front window, only realising after he was out of sight that a wide, giddy grin had settled itself on your face.

Stupid, there was no way a guy like that was single.

—

It’d been over a week and you’d almost forgotten your interaction with the handsome stranger. Heavy footsteps trudged over the threshold and became louder as they headed in your direction, but you didn’t look up from the coffee stain you were furiously trying to scrub off the counter. Absolutely nothing had gone your way today, and your frustrations had been made even worse by a string of asshole customers, so this was a war you refused to lose.

A weathered set of fingers came to rest a few inches away from the brown-tinged battleground.

‘You were right.’ You swiftly lifted your gaze, your heart leaping slightly when his shining blue eyes met yours. ‘I saw a couple in the park the other day, and I swear she must’ve been twice his age, so I thought she was his mom. Then…’

‘Then?’

He leaned in slightly, eyes wide. ‘They started making out.’

‘Wild, right? I told you.’

‘My world was pretty rocked.’

You chuckled, pushing yourself upright and moseying over to the coffee machine. ‘Black coffee, two sugars?’

‘Mhmm.’ He seemed a little nervous as he cleared his throat and ran his hands over his jeans. ‘I’m James, by the way. Friends call me Bucky.’

‘What should I call you?’

The corner of his mouth twitched slightly. ‘Whatever you want.’

‘Deal,’ you emptied two sachets of white sugar into his cup, ‘I’m y/n. Just y/n.’

There was a short silence. You noticed his jeans, the same pair he’d been wearing on his last visit, had been scrubbed clean. There was a different long sleeved tee poking out from beneath his jacket, but it could’ve easily been mistaken for the same one by a less invested observer. You could tell he’d shaved, and possibly even showered, cause the strong scent of his aftershave was overpowering the stale coffee smell you’d grown so tired of. Maybe he was on his way somewhere special?

‘You got big plans later?’

‘No, just came out for a walk,’ he eyed his cup while you brought it over to the counter, ‘and for the best coffee in the city.’

As you placed it in front of him, you found yourself a little distracted, pondering why on earth he’d groom himself so thoroughly for a walk in the park; lost in deep thought, you completely neglected to release your hand. Bucky instinctively went in for the grab and, very briefly, enclosed your hand in his.

He pulled away and quietly apologised. The encounter was so quick that you could’ve blinked and missed the bolt of excitement that gleamed in his eye- but you saw it.

In an obvious attempt to diffuse some of the tension, he started to root around in his pocket for another crumpled note, but you waved your hand to stop him.

‘On the house.’

‘You sure?’

‘Mhmm,’ you smothered a playful smirk, ‘for the entertainment.’

He smiled and began heading towards the door, but decisively swivelled back round just before he reached it.

‘Would you, maybe, want to grab a drink later? We could play your game together,’ he gestured at the empty counter beside you, ‘might be nice for you to have someone to talk to. Not that I think you’re lonely or anything, I’m sure you’ve got loads of people to talk to, I just meant-’

‘Four.’

‘Four?’

‘I finish at four.’

A grin spread across his face. ‘Great. I’ll see you then.’

—

You checked your phone for what felt like the hundredth time.

4:47

How long should you wait before it becomes pathetic? Did he think you said five?

You audibly sighed, double-checking that the coffee shop door was locked before trudging away down the street. Well, that’s what you get for agreeing to dates with random dudes- he probably got a better offer.

Rummaging around in your bag, eyes firmly glued to the sidewalk, you pulled out your headphones and relished the instant relief when they enclosed your ears and blocked out all the obnoxious sounds of the city. All you wanted to do was get home, put on your ketchup-stained lounge pants and cry in front of a rom-com.

Then something hit your shoulder. Hard.

You snapped your head around to see the person who’d just crashed into you, still running at full speed, seemingly unfazed by the fact he’d almost knocked you off your feet. Out the corner of your eye, you noticed a hoard of other fast moving figures, and suddenly realised that everyone else on the street was running as fast as they could in the same direction.

Incredibly confused, you reached up to slide your headphones off. That’s when you heard it. Distant screaming, gunfire, and a low, consistent thudding like footsteps- but far too loud to belong to any animal you’d ever heard of. You slowly turned on the spot, dreading what you were going to see. 

It was worse than you could’ve imagined.

A horrifying, four-legged creature, towering above the rows of shops and apartments, destroying street lamps and trees with every step it took towards you. It was clad in some kind of metal armour and had a face like a lizard without scales or skin.

You wanted to run, but quickly realised you were frozen on the spot. You tried to scream but couldn’t produce anything of worthy volume. All you could do was stand there, faintly whimpering, as death stared you in the face. By the time you noticed the smaller, human-sized beings charging towards you, they were already close enough to get a good shot.

There was a loud electrical crackle, followed by an intense burning pain in your stomach. The shock knocked you to your knees as the edges of your vision darkened, the hot sting travelling through every inch of your body, the sounds of panic around you slowly becoming muffled and distant.

Then everything went dark.

—

Your eyes painstakingly peeled open. The light hanging above you was dim, but the glow it gave out was enough to sting, forcing you back into a pained squint. Your mind was a complete blank and everything was quiet around you as your vision slowly adjusted.

Unfortunately, you were only granted a few seconds of peaceful consciousness before the agony started. It started in your ribs, then slowly seared down your limbs like fire travelling along a trail of gunpowder, trying to find the point of ignition. You panicked as the sensation grew and began frantically scanning your surroundings to find any point of familiarity, but it was no use. You had no idea where the hell you were.

The ceiling above you was faintly stained with patches of damp, some of which had leaked down and formed brown streaks on the peeling wallpaper. There was a small window to your right, the drawn net curtains letting in the faint, yellow light of early evening. To your left, a wide-open door. From your lying position all you could make out was the edge of an old-fashioned looking refrigerator. What was this place?

You tried to move, but anything more than a slight twitch of the fingers sent a pain through you so sharp that it took all the breath from your lungs. It felt like you were lying there, struggling and panicking, for hours before help came.

A figure eventually appeared in the door, rapidly shooting to your side once it realised you were conscious. You blinked rapidly, clearing the tears that had been swelling in your eyes, to see Bucky drop to his knees beside the bed.

‘What the fuck is going on?’ Your voice was almost imperceptibly quiet, the heady mixture of pain and panic suppressing it to a breathy whisper.

‘Just breathe, slowly, try to remember.’

‘Where are we?’

‘Outside the city, somewhere safe.’

‘Safe?’

With that word came a crashing torrent of memories. You remembered the thudding, the creature, the fear. You remembered the approach of death with crushing certainty. Tightly gripping the bed sheets, you searched Bucky’s eyes, pleading with him to reassure you.

‘Am I dead?’

He let a husky chuckle slip through his lips. That brief, gentle display of calm was enough to dampen your panic, if just for a second.

‘No, you’re alive. I managed to get you out of there,’ he glanced down to your stomach, ‘but you are hurt.’

‘How bad is it?’

You sensed some reluctance in him as he hesitated, likely debating the best way to soften the blow. ‘It’ll take some time, but you’re gonna be okay. You just need to rest.’

So many more questions were whipping through your mind. What was that thing? What did ‘outside the city’ mean? Why did this guy, this stranger you’d only met twice, risk his life to remove you from that situation?

That last one seemed the most important to you at the time, so that was the one you asked.

Hints of guilt appeared in his expression. ‘You were still there, in harm’s way, cause of me. Any other day you might’a been home safe, so least I can do is make sure you’re okay.’

Pain was still ringing through your body but his soft, calm voice had managed to soothe you a little. You weren’t sure what to say. It was true, you’d have been halfway home on the subway by that time on a normal day, but you could hardly blame him for that. He couldn’t have known that a colossal amount of shit was about to hit the fan.

‘Well,’ you took deep, shaky breaths as you spoke and tried your best to match his serene energy, ‘this is definitely the weirdest first date I’ve ever been on.’

‘Me too.’

He seemed relieved at your tone, but your line of questioning wasn’t over yet. Besides, talking was distracting you from the pain, so you weren’t willing to give that up anytime soon.

‘How did you get me out of there? How are you not dead?’ That one hit a chord with him, the long, tense silence that followed only broken by you prompting him again for some answers. ‘Who are you, Bucky?’

Once he started to explain, you half-wished you’d never asked. There was no way, in your current state, that you could even begin to wrap your head around all the insane, inconceivable things he started confessing. You could hardly call him a liar, though. Not while his solid metal arm was resting on the bed sheets beside you.

He finally finished and kept his wide eyes fixed on you, silently waiting for your reaction. You swallowed harshly. Any reasonable person would’ve begun eagerly reeling off a list of questions related to his completely unbelievable stories but, for reasons beyond your comprehension, only one thing popped into your mind.

‘You could’ve called.’

He laughed again, louder this time. ‘I was a little busy.’

‘Only would’ve taken a second.’

‘I don’t have your number.’

‘Could’ve googled the coffee shop’s number.’

‘While I was fighting aliens?’

You let your annoyed pretence slip, your mouth curling into a smile. ‘Yes.’

‘Fine, next time we have a date and something comes up, even if it’s huge and world-threatening, I promise I’ll call. Alright?’ You did your best to give him a contented nod, even that slight movement reminding you of the pain he’d been very effectively distracting you from. ‘Now, can I get you anything?’

‘I wouldn’t say no to a hefty dose of drugs.’

‘I’ll get you some painkillers.’ He rose to his feet before opening the top drawer of a small chest near where he’d been kneeling, his hands diving in and beginning to search. ‘I meant to ask, you got any family in the city you want to check up on? I have a phone you can use.’

‘Thanks, but no, I don’t.’

‘Anywhere else?’

‘Nope,’ you curved your mouth into a slightly self-pitying frown as he turned back towards you, ‘it’s just me.’

‘Me too.’

—

Some time passed. It could’ve been a week, could’ve been a month- the days all bled together while you stared at the grim ceiling of that bedroom.

Maybe it was the heaps of painkillers, or maybe it was your brain’s feeble attempt to prevent you spiralling into full breakdown, but the reality of your situation never seemed to properly hit you. The city you lived in was on full, alien-induced lockdown while you were holed up in some crummy apartment miles away with a perfect stranger. 

It was like the plot of a Stephen King novel.

Bucky spent a lot of time at your bedside, talking to you and answering any questions you had, emphasising over and over that he’d help you travel anywhere you wanted to go as soon as you felt strong enough. While your painstaking recovery started taking shape, you noticed that you’d begun to develop a deep, genuine trust in him- and maybe something more. You couldn’t exactly blame yourself, this was the man who’d saved your life after all.

This morning, you woke up to a loud clattering in the next room, followed by a hushed string of creative curse words. You had to lock a hand over your mouth to stop yourself laughing too loudly. Slowly, as you settled into consciousness, you found yourself feeling stronger than you’d felt in a long time. Maybe it was finally time for a change of scenery.

You managed to gradually heave yourself up, supporting your feeble body on various items of furniture as you shuffled towards freedom. You eventually reached the doorway and leant yourself against the frame, exhausted.

‘Little help?’

Bucky, who was crouching on the floor of the tiny kitchen area picking up what looked like shards of a ceramic mug, jolted to attention at the sound of your voice. He immediately dropped all the pieces he’d been meticulously collecting and hurried towards you.

‘Woah, what the hell are you doing? You alright?’

‘I’m good, it sounded like you might need a hand.’

He frowned and glanced over your shoulder at the empty bed and the sheets you’d half-dragged across the floor during your weak fumbling. ‘You climbed out of bed for the first time in weeks, ignoring your serious injury that isn’t even close to fully healed yet, to come help me put the coffee on?’

‘Well, when you put it like that…’

‘C’mon,’ he placed a supporting arm around your back, ‘you need to lie back down.’

‘No, please Buck. Being in that room is driving me crazy. Just give me a few minutes.’

He seemed reluctant, but your best puppy-dog eyes managed to sway him. 

‘Alright, but you’re staying on the couch. You can’t be on your feet too long.’

He slowly walked you over to the tattered two-seater, setting you down gently before returning to clean up his mess. You took in your surroundings. The place looked exactly how you’d expected, dingy and run-down, a few old pieces of furniture filling the cramped space. You heard the faint sounds of traffic coming through the solitary window and just about felt the warmth coming from a two-bar heater on the opposite side of the room. The whole apartment was just this tiny living space, with a kitchen on the far wall, and the bedroom you’d become so familiar with.

As you adjusted yourself on the lumpy couch, you noticed a sleeping bag neatly folded on the floor beside you, which made you feel a little guilty. You’d been spreading yourself across a comfortable double bed for the past few weeks whilst Bucky had been curling himself up on this poky thing.

After a few minutes, he wandered back over with two steaming mugs of coffee, carefully handing you one and settling himself beside you.

‘About time I was the one making the coffee, huh?’

You smiled slightly whilst blowing on the hot liquid. ‘Black, two sugars?’

‘You got it.’

He obviously thought he was being sneaky, intently watching you whenever your eyes were pointed away, hints of concern penetrating his otherwise relaxed expression. He was like a coiled spring waiting for something terrible to happen, for the mug to slip from your grip and scold your lap, for blood to suddenly rush to your head, causing you to faint and rag-doll onto the floor. Whatever the disaster, he was ready. 

His attempts at subtlety didn’t last long, however, as he soon just began asking whether you felt alright every couple of minutes. You didn’t mind though, it was pretty sweet and endearing.

‘I gotta say,’ you kept your eyes fixed on your drink, ‘I’ve never been on a first date that lasted this long before. Gotta be a good sign, right?’

‘I’d say so. I’m sure I’ve been enjoying it more than you, though.’

‘Eh, I’ve had worse dates.’

‘What, worse than being bed bound with a serious injury?’

‘You’ve obviously never used Tinder before.’ His soft laughter prompted a few butterflies to appear in your stomach and, as his gaze returned to yours, you struggled to suppress the feelings that had been slowly growing inside you these past few weeks. ‘To be completely honest, your company’s the only thing that’s kept me going.’

He shifted in his seat awkwardly, the skin around his cheeks reddening slightly as he audibly gulped. Had you misread this? The last thing you wanted to do was make him uncomfortable.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to-’

‘Don’t apologise.’ His voice was soft, regretful, but it seemed to gain a little more confidence for his next statement. ‘I feel the same.’

—

As more time passed, you grew stronger and felt yourself getting closer to Bucky. He began helping you into the front room every morning, where the two of you would while away the days talking, laughing and sitting at the window so you could play your favourite guessing game on the pairs of strangers walking past. He was pretty terrible at it, but that just made it all the more entertaining.

For a while you even found yourself downplaying the extent of your recovery in an effort to extend this time with him, complaining about aches and pains that had actually subsided days ago. You were worried that, after this ordeal was over, he’d decide there was no reason to continue spending time with you.

Eventually, though, you couldn’t pretend anymore. The city was safe again and you were ready to go home.

There was an undertone of sadness, in both of you it seemed, as Bucky helped you through the front door. You’d been able to walk confidently on your own for a while now, but he still insisted on being close in case anything happened. You were almost willing yourself to trip and fall as you made your way down the steep stairs.

He had to drive you through the centre of the city to reach your apartment, the extent of the destruction still evident even after all this time. Numerous roadblocks were in place, some buildings half-destroyed and others gone completely, piles of rubble being the only remaining evidence that they ever existed at all. You couldn’t imagine how the streets must’ve looked in the days following the event.

You saw people still going about their daily lives but, whenever Bucky stopped at a red light and you managed to catch a closer look at their faces, their agitation was obvious. People here were still living in fear, and you could hardly blame them. You were probably going to be doing the same.

The car eventually pulled up outside your ground-floor apartment. You dug around in your bag, the same one you’d been carrying on the day in question, and eventually found your keys. Buck stood in the doorway as you wandered in, half relieved to be home, half trying to fight off a looming depression.

‘You all good?’

‘I think so.’ You unceremoniously threw your bag onto the couch. ‘Thanks for everything, really. I don’t know how I’ll ever pay you back for everything you’ve done.’

‘Just stay safe.’

‘I’ll try my best.’

You thought he looked a little dejected as he nodded and took a couple steps backwards, his reluctance to turn away sparking a faint bolt of confidence in your chest. It was now or never.

Fuck it, you had nothing to lose.

‘I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if you came to check on me every once in a while, though?’

‘Yeah?’ The wind immediately started blowing back through his sails. ‘I mean, I could even take you on a second date, if you wanted. Hopefully the world won’t end this time.’

‘But if it does?’

‘I’ll call.’

The two of you stood opposite each other for a few seconds, smiling in silence, both waiting for the other to make the first move. You took the initiative.

Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, you yanked him towards you, your arms immediately encircling his neck as your lips crashed together. He carefully placed both hands on your back, obviously still worried about the possibility of hurting you. The two of you held that position for what felt like hours. 

You found yourself beginning to slowly melt into him, but then something suddenly dawned on you, and you sharply pulled away.

‘I’ve just had a terrible thought.’

You felt him stiffen slightly. ‘What?’

‘What if people who see us in the street together guess we’re brother and sister?’

He chuckled through his words, his body again relaxing against you. ‘I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who does that, but we can always make it obvious that we’re not. Just in case.’

‘Good call.’

—

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—

Summary: Your agreement was balancing on a knife edge but Bucky just wouldn’t stop pushing

Pairing: College!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2k

Warnings:Language, creepy behaviour

Author’s Note: Can’t believe it’s been a week, apologies, I want to post more regularly but just been super tired recently. Anyway I hope everyone is having a v nice week, much love, enjoy this next part!

—

You told Nat you had a date this evening, but you flat-out refused to tell her who with.

When she saw you dressed to the nines in black tie she almost waterboarded you to get the information, but you held firm, insisting that you didn’t want to jinx the evening by giving too much away. There was no way she suspected the truth, but you still got the hell out of your apartment as swiftly as you could- just in case.

Bucky said he’d meet you outside the venue. Your taxi pulled up a little early and you climbed out, feeling your heartbeat in your throat as you hastily walked towards the address he’d given you. You really shouldn’t have been this nervous, it was just a favour, but you couldn’t help getting in your head about your first proper outing together.

Man, this whole friends with benefits situation would be a helluva lot easier if he just stuck to the fucking rules every once in a while. 

You turned the final corner and saw the grand-looking building, lit up like a Christmas tree with faint music coming from inside, Bucky casually leaning against the wall outside.

You had to give it to him, that boy could rock a tuxedo.

He started grinning like an idiot as soon as he spotted you, pushing himself upright and prowling towards you like a leopard approaching its prey. Your heart was close to punching clean through your rib cage by the time he was in touching distance.

‘Well would’ya look at that,’ he took both of your hands in his and pulled you towards him, ‘my date doesn’t look half bad.’

The way he said that made some of those feelings you weren’t allowed to have bubble up in your chest, so you quickly had to bag them up and go drown them in the river; you were just here as his friend, you had to keep reminding yourself of that.

‘You can chill out with the date shit, I’m only here to make you look less lonely.’

His hands started to explore the length of your back, fingertips pressing lightly into your skin when they reached your hips. ‘Oh yeah? That’s the only reason you came?’

‘Course. Why, what’re you getting at?’

‘Nothing at all.’ He shot you a wink, moved to your side and offered out his arm. ‘Showtime.’

You audibly gulped before letting him lead you up the stairs.  

As soon as the two of you stepped inside, you sensed half the eyes in the room shooting in your direction, some low-level whispers starting as you made your way through the crowd. Bucky obviously had a reputation amongst these people too, because they were staring at you the same as they’d stare at a dress-wearing dog walking in on its hind legs. You’d never felt like such a spectacle. 

He guided you over to a bunch of guys standing in a circle, squeezing the two of you into the group and greeting a couple of them with elaborate handshakes. They seemed just as surprised by your presence as the rest of the crowd, a couple of them exchanging confused side-eyes, but they thankfully kept their mouths shut and greeted you politely.

Looking around the sea of tuxedos, you couldn’t help noticing a slight issue.

None of them had dates.

So, either every single other person in the circle had been bailed on this evening, or Bucky had flat-out lied in order to get you here. Why the hell would he do that? Was this some kind of stupid fucking bet?

You’d definitely be having strong words later.

Before long, the group managed to locate some seats, and you couldn’t help noticing that Buck was starting to acting a little weird. He scooched his chair as close to yours as was physically possible and planted an arm firmly around your waist, a position that must’ve been at least little uncomfortable for him but it barely moved all evening.  

The two of you obviously had very different ideas about the definition of a friend-date.

Nevertheless, despite his weirdly clingy side coming out, you actually found yourself having a really nice time with Buck and his friends. The drinks and the chat were flowing, you almost started to wonder what the hell you were so worried about coming here. 

Then a new member joined the group. He sat directly opposite and just began to flat-out stare at you, his erratically fluttering eyelids and inability to keep his head up straight telling you that he was far more drunk than any of his friends. You tried to ignore him, but he was directly in your eye-line, so your agitated gaze kept inadvertently flicking back his way.  

All you could do was just hope he’d fuck off in search of his next drink very soon.

Unfortunately, the seat directly beside you just happened to become free after ten or so minutes, and he pounced as fast as someone in his condition was capable of. 

‘Nice to meet you.’

He went in for a handshake. You began to reciprocate but he quickly switched tactics on you, suddenly going to kiss the back of your hand but not quite managing to make contact before you wrenched it away. The laugh he let out at your reaction made you shudder. 

Trying to get as far away from this creep as possible, you scooched yourself further into your date’s side, the slight nudge diverting his attention away from his conversation and over to your new seat neighbour.

Even Buck seemed surprised at the state he was in. ‘What time did you guys start?’

‘Dunno,’ the creep gave a sloppy shrug and took a long swig from his beer, ‘a while back.’

‘You think maybe you should slow down?’

He just huffed in response.

You tried to go back to chatting with Bucky’s other friends but, just a few minutes later, you felt a firm tap uncomfortably high on your thigh. By that point you were fully prepared to bust out your wide range of self-defence moves.

You reluctantly turned back to the sloppy drunk, finding his face just a couple inches away from yours, foul whiskey breath spreading over you as he spoke.  

‘So, what, you got a magic mouth or something?’

Buck’s keen ears picked that up straight away, cause his head snapped in the direction of the question, arm immediately tightening around you. ‘The hell you say man?’

‘Oh c’mon Barnes, you never stick around, there must be a reason you haven’t ditched this one yet.’ His gaze moved back to you, a look in his eyes that made your skin crawl. ‘You wanna share with the rest of the group, sweetheart?’

This motherfucker was really pushing his luck now. 

You went to respond, feeling the venom building in your throat, but Buck got in there just before you.

‘You wanna shut the hell up before I make you?’

Creep leant back, chuckling to himself while holding his hands up in surrender. You hoped that’d be the end of it, but no, this asshole really didn’t know when to quit. 

‘No need to get so defensive over a piece of ass.’

Bucky shot up from his seat, shoulders squared and fists clenched. 

As much as you didn’t want a full-on fight happening over your lap, you had to admit to being a little entertained, cause the drunk asshole scrambled out of his chair and shot away so fast he almost left skid marks on the ground. The rest of the group seemed to notice the slight kerfuffle, but Buck calmly sitting back down and reverting his attention to you made them lose interest. 

One arm curled round your shoulders while the other hand came to rest softly on your knee. ‘You okay?’

‘Mhmm. No thanks to your friend.’

‘Nah, he’s not my friend, I barely know that asshole.’ His eyes started to vigilantly scan the room behind you. ‘If he comes near you again I might have to do more than scare him.’

You raised an eyebrow at him. ‘S’alright big man, I can handle myself.’

‘I know, but I’m not gonna sit here and let him talk to you like that.’

‘Very noble considering, in this agreement, I am basically just a piece of ass.’

Any trace of triumph quickly fell from his face. He was silent for a few seconds, eyes searching yours while an earnest look you’d never seen before spread over his features. You were actually a little nervous about what was coming next.

He went to open his mouth, but was instantly distracted by a tap on the shoulder. The two of you had some brightly-coloured shots forced into your hands and, just like that, the moment was gone.

You could see Bucky getting progressively more hammered as the night went on, every drink apparently convincing him more and more that you two were the happiest of couples. The possessive arm stayed firmly round you all evening, but he also began kissing you on the side of the head and neck at random intervals, sometimes whispering slightly slurred compliments directly in your ear. It made you giddy every time he did it. 

But, as nice as it was, you knew it was dangerous.

There was no way in hell he would ever maintain anything serious with you, so in acting like this he was really leading you on, even if it wasn’t intentional. You were doing your best to stick to his terms despite your feelings, yet here he was just carelessly breaking all of them.

It was getting close to midnight when he stumbled to his feet and sauntered out of the room without a word. You waited a few minutes, figuring he’d probably just gone to piss out the twelve or so beers he’d already necked, but there was no sign of him returning. 

You eventually got up with a sigh and headed in the same direction. A few other students directed you out to the front of the building, where you found him swaying side to side in time with the muffled music, having a smoke. 

‘You alright?’

He spun round, a wide smile spreading over his face. ‘Am now.’

The cigarette butt was unceremoniously dropped from his fingers as he approached. He wound his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest and kissing you gently. 

Usually, being close to him like this made all other thoughts melt from your mind, but you were really struggling to get lost in the moment this time. You just couldn’t ignore the slight unease in your stomach, you had to work out what his game was.

‘So you were worried you’d be the only one without a date, huh?’

His mouth curled into a crafty smile. ‘I might’ve exaggerated a little.’

‘No shit.’ He leaned in again but you put your palms against his chest to stop him. ‘Why am I here, Buck?’

‘So I can show you off.’

What the fuck did that mean? 

Apparently not at all picking up on your hints, he decided to dip his head sideways, so he could begin to plant kisses under your jaw. 

‘Buck,’ you pushed him away this time and took a small step back, ‘you need to stop.’

Alarm quickly spread across his face. ‘Shit, sorry, what’s wrong?’

‘You’re not my boyfriend, alright? You made that abundantly clear when we started this, but for some reason you’ve been happy to act like we’re the perfect couple all night.’

He nodded apologetically. ‘I get it, I do, I just…’

‘Just what?’ You tried your best not to let your frustration show, but this was like trying to get blood out of a stone.

‘Nothing.’

‘Right, of course.’ You were starting to get a little pissed now. ‘What the hell happened to you Buck? You’re happy to do all this sweet, caring stuff for me but at the first mention of anything remotely serious you just completely close up. What messed you up so bad?’

‘You can’t ask me about that shit while I’m hammered, it’s not fair.’

So there was something, then. Had he lied about having no previous relationships too? 

You were so sick of trying to work him out. 

It didn’t matter anyway, you knew that as soon as you dug deep enough to find the answer he’d just cast you aside for a new fling. That’s just the kind of guy he was.

‘I’m gonna go home.’

‘No, don’t leave, let’s just have a good night. We can talk about all this shit another time.’

You’d loved to have believed that, but deep down you knew you’d always be waiting for another time with him. The two of you were playing a game you’d never win.

‘I think this was a mistake, Buck.’

‘What, coming here tonight?’

You shook your head slightly before turning away and heading inside to get your things. He didn’t follow you, probably figuring you’d have to face him again when you tried to leave, but you managed to find a back entrance to sneak out of. You called a taxi to take you home, holding back your tears as you waited by the side of the road. 

Typical, really, that your shittiest breakup was with someone who’d never even been your boyfriend. 

—

Part 7

—

Story Taglist: @mxrvelinhrt@sprmssvblackhole@theokatz​

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—

Summary:Alone in the middle of nowhere and feeling yourself slowly fading, all you could do was try to keep yourself alive.

Pairing:Bucky x y/n

Word Count:2.4k

Warnings: Language, some gore

Author’s Note: Thank you @emmabarnes for the prompt for this story, sorry it’s been so long coming! ‘Reader has been missing for a few days, Bucky is going completely insane, they find her hurt/unconscious/dying in a field somewhere.’

—

As you wearily dragged yourself back to consciousness, he was your first thought.

You were only granted a few blissful seconds of peace before being inundated with pain, fear and disorientation, but in that brief time your mind was swimming with Bucky’s last words as you boarded that fucking plane.

‘Keep yourself safe for me, bug.’

Then he slipped away.

Unbelievable agony began to radiate from your right leg, shooting through your body like lightning with every slight movement. Battling through your tangled thoughts, you slowly pieced together the series of events that had landed you flat on your back in the middle of a field, in so much pain that you were struggling to breathe. You vaguely recalled glancing through the Alpha Jet’s window and seeing Moscow down below, then seconds later being hit by some kind of projectile. The impact had instantly snapped your wing off and sent you plummeting towards the ground.

After that it was just blackness, but the thick cords wrapped tightly around your waist and thighs led you to the conclusion that your parachute must’ve malfunctioned.

Fuck, Bucky was gonna be so pissed.

He always told you to double check that stuff, giving you concerned glances every time you teased him for being paranoid- if you somehow managed to survive this you were definitely in deep shit.

On the plus side, you now knew vaguely where you were and how you’d ended up here, so it was time to let your years of relentless survival training kick in. Your focus shifted to keeping yourself alive.

First, you needed to see your leg.  

Carefully moving yourself around a little, you couldn’t feel any pain coming from your back, so you decided to risk sitting up in order to assess the full extent of the damage. It took at least thirty minutes and some intense screeching, but you eventually managed to find a comfortable position where you could get a good look. Your right leg was completely crushed underneath a sharp, thick piece of steel. At your best you could probably have shifted it, but you’d barely managed to muster the energy required to get to this point- besides, there was a good chance it was the only thing stopping you from bleeding out.

Freeing a length of cord and taking a deep breath, you fashioned it into a tight tourniquet above your knee, the pain causing you to collapse back to the ground. You needed to distract yourself, find something to focus on other than the excruciating agony.

Frantically flicking through memories like a rolodex, you eventually dug out an old reliable, one that could always make you smile no matter the circumstances- the day you first met Bucky.

You were still locked away beneath the Triskelion at the time, in the midst of Fury’s brutal Hydra-deprogramming regime, seriously considering whether all this pain was worth the meagre quality of life you’d be doomed to once you were cured. All you’d been told was that someone with ‘similar experiences’ was being sent to ‘assess’ you, which sounded to you like the kind of euphemism a parent would use to reassure their child when the vet arrives to put down their beloved pet.

The door of your basement prison slowly opened, and the first thing you saw was his smile, faint but optimistic. After that it took less than a few minutes for you to gather that this broad, intimidating man was just a sweet and clumsy oaf.

He stood opposite you and reeled off a few questions, giving away his nervousness by fidgeting around slightly as he spoke. ‘So how long’ve they had you hidden away down here?’

‘Almost two years.’

‘Wow, long time. You like it down here?’ You gave him a slightly puzzled look, figuring it was pretty clear that you weren’t living in this bare, concrete basement by choice. ‘Sorry. Stupid question. You’d probably rather be anywhere else, right? But hey, at least there’s no bugs.’

‘Nope, just me.’

‘You’re definitely the biggest bug I’ve ever seen.’ He paused, reassessing his words. ‘Not that you’re- I didn’t mean-’

The corners of your mouth curled into a smile in response to his inept ramblings. The sight seemed to effectively derail his frantic train of thought, because his words trailed off and he let the two of you settle into a brief, comfortable silence.

You knew from that moment there was something special about him, but later in the day when he spilled a full mug of coffee all over the floor and made you laugh for the first time in years, you knew he was the one. Just remembering his face as he stared at the slowly spreading brown puddle made you laugh to yourself, but you quickly snapped out of your fantasy when the sensation caused pangs of pain in your chest.

Just like that, you were back in your nightmare.

Your throat had already started to feel dry and scratchy, but you had no water and it was the height of summer, so there was little chance of rain. Bucky had three days to find you at most, all you could do in the meantime was try to preserve what little energy you had left.

You attempted to lull yourself to sleep by imagining him next to you, trying to remember the soft sound of him breathing and the warmth of his closeness. You thought about how long it’d taken for both of you to reach the point where you could share a bed, how you built up trust, slowly growing accustomed to being in such close proximity. 

It started with Bucky sleeping on the floor of your bedroom, just so the two of you could get used to the sounds of each other. It only took a few weeks before he was able to tell whether you were awake just from the speed of your breathing, and he’d make sure to ask every few minutes if you were okay until he heard you nod off. The first time he tried sleeping in your bed, both of you expected a night of tension and unrest, but it turned out blissful. The feeling of his arm slung over you while you slept was the most comforting sensation you’d ever experienced. After that, there was no turning back, and the presence of each other was the only thing that could guarantee you both a good night’s sleep.

All you had tonight was the bitter cold and the paralysing fear that you might never get to see him again.

—

You jolted awake.

Sitting up slightly, waves of dizziness hit and you suddenly noticed that the grass around you was soaked with blood. You took a deep breath, grabbed a sturdy-looking stick from the ground and clenched it between your teeth, biting down hard as you tightened your tourniquet. The pain was immense and felt like it would never end. 

After that, all you could do was lay back down and just let the hours pass. The light slowly faded, bright sunshine turning into murky twilight, which then waned into a darkness so thick that you couldn’t even see your hand in front of your face.

Thankfully, you didn’t mind the darkness. Late night was the only time Bucky was able to sneak you out of that fucking basement prison, so you’d grown quite fond of it, often staying up late just to stare into the night sky and relive those memories.

You thought back to the first time he did it, how he charmed the security guard before excitedly leading you through a maze of winding corridors. You’d never forget the feeling of the clean, crisp midnight air hitting your face for the first time in years. You were stood there with eyes firmly closed, tears running down your face, just breathing it in. A hand was gently placed on your shoulder, and you glanced over to see Bucky looking at you with the most beautifully triumphant smile. You leant into him and let his arms enclose you. The two of you stood there, holding each other and gazing at the stars, for hours.

You held on to that memory for as long as you could, but eventually it got away. You were starting to fade, you could feel it. Grasping around for anything that would keep your mind active, you began trying to remember all the intricate details of his face and the cadences of his voice, imagining what he’d say to you if he was here.

‘Well, I never pegged you as a quitter.’

You smiled slightly to yourself, his voice echoing in your ears. ‘You always overestimated me.’

‘That’s a lie and you know it.’

Letting your head fall to the side, you saw him crouched down beside you, wearing the same outfit he’d had on when you first met. A plain black t-shirt and blue jeans, classic but unbelievably sexy.

‘Good to see you, bug.’

‘You too Buck,’ tears started to well in your eyes, ‘I just wish you were real.’

‘Me too.’

You would’ve given anything to have him reach out and touch your face, to feel the rough skin of his hand against your cheek, to know he was there with you.

‘But look,’ laying down beside you, he propped up his head, a goofy grin spread across his face, ‘I wore your favourite outfit.’

‘You’re a figment of my imagination, of course I put you in my favourite outfit.’

He shrugged. ‘Could’a put me in nothing at all.’

‘Didn’t want you to be cold.’

‘So considerate.’

You chuckled slightly, wincing in pain. ‘Don’t make me laugh, it hurts.’

Your gaze shifted from your imaginary boyfriend back to the inky sky, a feeble sigh escaping your lips. You knew him being here wasn’t a good sign, your mind was obviously starting to completely unravel, but you couldn’t say you weren’t grateful for the company.

‘Am I gonna die here, Buck?’

‘Well you’ve lost a lot of blood and you haven’t had any water in almost two days,’ he leaned so close that you swore you could smell his cologne, ‘but we both know you’ve survived worse. If this is the thing that takes you out then, frankly, imma be a little pissed.’

You gave him a faint smile, pretty impressed at the accuracy with which your half-dead brain had created this hallucination- he was just as much of an asshole as his real counterpart.

‘Besides,’ he continued, ‘I can’t be too far away by now. You know I’ll never stop until I find you.’

‘You better fucking not.’

Your eyes slowly closed, but you still heard his voice in your ears as you drifted off into a fractured sleep.

‘Get some rest, bug. I’ll see you soon.’

—

You felt an orange warmth against your eyelids, but you couldn’t muster the energy to peel them open. The pain in your leg had faded, but you weren’t sure if it had improved or if you’d just grown accustomed to it. You kept falling in and out of consciousness, strange dreams bleeding into reality until you couldn’t distinguish the two anymore. 

You fell into a sunken place, tranquil sensations engulfing your body, as if you were slowly slipping into a warm bath.

You thought, in the far distance, you heard your name being called.

—

Faint beeping started in your right ear.

It was sporadic and far away at first but, eventually, it grew loud and steady. You managed to grasp onto the sound, letting it drag you out of the sunken place and back into your body. Then more sounds started to bleed through. You pushed aside the distant footsteps and singing of birds to focus on the one you were really interested in- the close mumbling of an incredibly familiar voice. Mumbles strung themselves together and eventually became words.

‘-and then Steve said it wasn’t as good as the one from the diner around the corner, but he’s only saying that cause he’s got a crush on the girl that works behind the counter there. He knows I’m right, there’s no comparison.’

Your eyelids were still too heavy to push open and your throat was so dry it was painful, but you just about managed to choke out a few words.

‘Are you really talking to your comatose girlfriend about pizza?’

You couldn’t see him, but you could tell by the sound of his voice that he was talking through a wide grin. ‘I ran out of interesting topics hours ago, not my fault you decided to sleep in.’

A chuckle rose up from your stomach and you winced, expecting that pang of pain, but there was nothing. You just about managed to pry an eye open, lolling your head towards Bucky’s voice and trying to focus through the blinding fluorescent light.

‘Are you real?’

‘I’m real.’ His hand came to rest on your face, the sensation sending elated waves through you. ‘You had me scared for a second there, bug. Thought you were a goner.’

The corner of your mouth twitched. ‘I’ve survived worse.’

‘Your chances of survival would be much better if you checked your damn parachutes every once in a while. How many times have I told you?’

‘I don’t even get a minute of consciousness without a guilt trip?’

‘I can go back to talking about pizza, if you’d prefer.’

A single head shake was all you could manage in response to that threat. He chuckled, rising from his chair and leaning over you, thumb stroking over your cheek while he planted a cautiously soft kiss on your forehead.

‘I’m never letting you outta my sight again.’

You raised an eyebrow at him. ‘That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?’

‘No.’

Now you were more grounded in reality, and apparently doped up on a cocktail of pain meds, you managed to push down on the mattress and shift yourself sideways. Bucky’s very concerned frown faded once you patted the bed beside you.

‘Could use some company.’

‘Oh, me too.’ He carefully climbed into the empty space, lowering his head onto the pillow. ‘I haven’t slept well for days.’

‘Wow, must’ve been really hard for you.’

‘It was.’

You watched the teasing smirk fade from his face as he drifted off to sleep, and felt yourself following not long afterwards.—

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—

Summary:You weren’t even sure if you trusted Bucky to keep your little rendezvous a secret, but now he knew something even worse.

Pairing:College!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings:Language

Author’s Note: I should’ve done this in part one, but I would retroactively like to set the tone for this story by directing your attention to this video. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

—

You woke up in Bucky’s bed the next morning.

You’d originally planned to sneak away after he fell asleep, figuring that’d effectively minimise the risk of getting caught, but you must’ve passed out from exhaustion before you could manage it. 

You were still behind enemy lines.

Bucky was fast asleep, snoring like a speedboat. This would’ve been an opportune moment for you to escape had he not been lying directly on top of your arm. You briefly floated the idea of chewing it off to get away, reasoning that the adrenaline produced by your fear of Nat would carry you through the pain, but the logistics were far too complex.

You were in a coyote ugly with with a hot person, there was literally no name for this situation.

It took a few minutes, but you painstakingly managed to wriggle free without waking him, only to hear movement while you were gathering up all your clothes from the floor.

‘Morning.’ You glanced over to see him sleepily smiling at you. ‘Round two?’

‘Interesting, I had you down as a one-and-done type guy.’

‘Can’t have too much of a good thing.’ He flipped back the sheet beside him, patting the bed in time with a series of suggestive eyebrow raises. ‘Quickie?’

‘I would, Ireally would, but I can’t risk anyone catching me naked in your bedroom.’

‘The risk just makes it hotter.’

He had a very good point. You definitely would’ve taken him up on it, but the idea of Nat finding out and literally crucifying you would probably stop you getting into the moment anyway.

‘I can’t.’

‘Fair enough.’ He flopped onto his back with a sigh. ‘She really has it out for me, huh?’

You shrugged, turning away and mumbling under your breath. ‘For good reason.’

‘What?’

‘Nothing. See you later.’

You felt his eyes glued to your butt as you scurried out of the door and across the hallway, fully naked, with a ball of clothes in your arms.

You couldn’t believe you’d gotten away with it.

—

You joined Steve and Nat in the kitchen for breakfast. 

Unfortunately, after you’d all finished, you were forced to pull out one of your big gun excuses to get out of taking swim with them. Period pains were a get-out-of-jail-free card you’d be able to play all day long, but you already sensed a little suspicion at your reluctance to go near the water.

You walked them down to the beach, watching them swim completely out of view before lying down and closing your eyes to sunbathe.

Only a few brief minutes of peaceful bliss had passed when, suddenly, you found yourself completely in the shade. You opened an eye to see a grinning Bucky standing over you.

‘Not swimming?’

‘Nah, not in the mood.’

‘C’mon,’ he prodded you with his foot, ‘just a quickie?’

The smirk on his face as he said it would’ve melted the strongest of women into a quivering puddle, but even that wasn’t enough- it’d take a great deal more than some horny flirting to convince you into anything past a paddle.

‘I’m good, thanks.’

You gave him a short smile and let your eyes flicker closed again, hoping he’d shift out of the sunlight and let you carry on with relaxing.

He did not.

Before you could even gauge what the hell was happening, you’d been yanked up off the floor and slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

‘What the fuck are you playing at?’

‘I’m forcing you to have some fun.’

He was heading towards the ocean.

Your heartbeat started picking up, a hard lump forming in your throat as your stomach tied itself in a knot. ‘Bucky stop, seriously, I don’t want to.’

He ignored you and just tightened his grip in response to your struggling. You were hitting his back as hard as you could by the time he waded in, trying anything you could to get him to stop. It was unbelievably frustrating hearing him laugh in response to your begging but, for some reason, he’d convinced himself you were just joking around.

As soon as you felt your feet hit the water, your first instinct was to scream as loud as you could- that stopped him.

‘Holy shit, alright, I’ll let you go.’

He loosened his grip and began to lower you from his shoulder, not realising that was quite possibly the worst thing he could do in this situation.

‘Don’t you fucking dare.’ Your shaking legs just about managed to get a grip around him before you were fully dropped. ‘Take me back, now.’

Obviously in shock, he quickly waded back to the shore, looking incredibly concerned when you collapsed onto the sand and started hyperventilating. The edges of your vision were starting to blur, hands desperately trying to grasp onto the loose ground.

Kneeling down, he reached out and tried to comfort you a little, but stopped when you aggressively swatted away his hands.

‘Shit I’m really sorry, you should’a told me you can’t swim.’

You just about managed to push some words out between gulped in breaths. ‘I can fucking swim, asshole.’

‘What is it then?’ Slight panic was rising in his voice, he obviously had no idea what the hell was happening. ‘You scared of sharks or something?’

You didn’t bother trying to answer that, figuring you didn’t need to explain yourself to someone who’d come dangerously close to killing you a moment ago. You rolled over and attempted to stand yourself up but you were really struggling, your body was still in panic mode, legs about as useful as cooked spaghetti.

Bucky was your only option for getting as far away from the water as possible. 

You stopped batting him away so he could help you up and walk you back to the house, where you collapsed onto the porch seat and tried to collect yourself a little. Just being back somewhere you felt safe helped you begin to calm down.

Bucky lowered himself down beside you, obviously feeling incredibly guilty and scrabbling around to come up with something that’d diffuse the tension.

‘So is it all sharks or…?’

An exasperated chuckle slipped through your lips. ‘It’s not sharks, dumbass. It’s just the water.’

‘Oh, right.’ He watched as you leant back into the seat, finally catching your breath. ‘You mind if I ask why?’

You let your gaze wander over to meet his. For some reason you couldn’t pinpoint, you were feeling inclined to tell this almost-stranger something you hadn’t even shared with your best friends yet. Maybe it’d be therapeutic- after all, it was unlikely you’d ever see him again after this weekend.

He turned his body towards you slightly, face still swimming with guilt but a look in his eyes that urged you into a confession.

‘It was years ago. It’s still a little blurry, all I remember is swimming with my sister when we got caught in some kind of undercurrent and pulled down. She somehow managed to escape and call for my dad,’ you shrugged faintly, ‘apparently he got to me just in time.’

Your skin was crawling just thinking about it. You must’ve looked uncomfortable, cause as soon as you’d finished speaking Bucky placed a grounding hand on your knee, squeezing slightly and giving you a reassuring smile.

Your eyes strayed back to the shore, the sight sending a fearful tingle up your spine. ‘It know it’s stupid but, whenever I’m in the water, all I can think is that there’s something underneath me, trying to drag me down.’

‘Nah, it makes sense.’ He nodded faintly. ‘Does anyone else know?’

‘I just figured now wasn’t the best time…’

‘Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.’

It was a relief to hear that. You weren’t really sure why you were still so intent on keeping this from your friends, it might’ve been reluctance to tell that story again or just pure embarrassment at this point, but you were glad you wouldn’t be forced into sharing. 

You’d tell them eventually, just in your own time.

‘Look, I know I said it before, but I am really sorry. I didn’t realise you were so scared.’

Your face screwed up into a bewildered frown. ‘I was literally punching you as hard as I could.’

‘For real?’ He clicked his tongue. ‘Man, you should work out more.’

‘Asshole.’

You were dangerously close to letting yourself get lost in a bit of a moment with him, but Nat’s distant voice made you snap back to your senses and instantly slap Bucky’s hand away from your leg.

‘Hey guys,’ she and Steve were strolling towards the two of you, ‘you been for a paddle?’

A smirk crept across Bucky’s face. 

‘Yeah, just a quickie.’

—

Part 3

—

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—

Summary:Hiding your phobias from your closest friends may not have been the best idea- you were definitely about to pay for it.

Pairing: College!Bucky x y/n

Word Count:1.8k

Warnings:Language

Author’s Note: So, bit of a weird one- this series is partially inspired by the request above but also by my deep horrific fear of the ocean. Bear with me, it will make sense soon, I promise. 

—

All you could see was blue. A deep, murky blue stretching in every direction.

You looked upwards, hoping to see the glimmering of the water’s surface above you, but there was nothing. You were deep this time.

You tried to swim upwards, but no matter how hard you kicked you could still feel yourself sinking. Dark shadows started to circle. Your lungs were burning, panic reaching fever pitch, urge to pull in a deep breath becoming too much to overcome.

‘Y/n!’ 

Your eyes shot open.

Nat was pretty harshly shaking your knee while doing her best to still keep an eye on the road. ‘What the hell, man? You were kicking my dashboard in your sleep.’

You scanned your eyes over the spattering of faint muddy footprints in front of you. ‘Shit, sorry. Bad dream.’

‘About what? Fighting the fucking Karate Kid?’

‘Something like that.’

You would’ve confessed the truth, but you figured that the drive towards a long weekend in a beach-house wasn’t exactly the best time to tell her about your phobia-inspired reoccurring dream.

‘I get nightmares too, sometimes.’ Wanda’s quiet voice came from the backseat.

‘Yeah? What about?’

‘That time I saw Nat’s butt by accident.’

You burst out laughing and dangled an open hand over your shoulder, swiftly receiving a high five. ‘Nice.’

‘You guys suck.’ Nat dug into her pocket, pulling out her phone and throwing it into your lap. ‘Check if Steve’s texted, he should be there by now.’

‘Mhmm, he says they’ve arrived. He also says that he can’t wait to get you alone on the beach and make you-’

She grabbed the phone away. ‘That’s great, thanks.’

You’d only met Steve a handful of times, cause he went to a different college on the other side of the city, but he seemed nice enough. That being said, you were pretty sure that he’d originally organised this weekend as a lads’ holiday but didn’t have the heart to say no when Nat hinted her interest.

You and Wanda had basically just been roped along to keep her company while the guys butt-chugged beer in the sunshine.

You finally arrived and Steve greeted you at the door, quickly informing you and Wanda that the two bedrooms left to choose from were pretty inconsistent in quality. One was a spacious master with an en-suite and full view of the beach, the other was one of two cramped attic rooms with owls nesting in the walls- guess which one you ended up in.

After unpacking all your stuff and communing with your new avian roommates, you flopped onto the bed, folding your arms over your face in exasperation. 

You’d spent weeks before this holiday compiling as many excuses as you could think of not to get into the ocean, but you were convinced they still wouldn’t be enough. If anyone tried to coerce you into anything more than a paddle then shit would hit the fan and you’d have to start attacking-

‘Hey.’

‘Jesus fuck.’ You physically jumped, bolting upright.

Snapping your head in the direction of the noise, you were pretty taken aback to see a brick shit-house of a man standing in the doorway that you’d forgotten to close.

‘Actually, most people call me Bucky, but for you I can probably make an exception.’

You clambered to your feet. ‘Well, Bucky, you scared the shit out of me. Are you one of Steve’s entourage or are you just some creep that’s broken in?’

‘Depends. Which answer gets me invited in?’

Yikes.

‘Oh, second one, definitely. Criminally dangerous perverts are kinda my thing.’

‘For real?’

‘No, you fucking idiot.’ You walked over to the door, hoping he’d shift himself when you began to close it. He didn’t. ‘Could you move? I need to get changed.’

‘Move in or out?’

The look on your face seemed to answer that question for you, cause he put his arms up in surrender and took a step back, an unholy smirk plastered on his face as you slammed the door.

Low mumbling came through the wood. ‘If you need me I’m just across the hall, neighbour.’

‘I won’t.’

You tried to shake him off while rooting around for some beach-appropriate clothes but, unfortunately, just that short conversation had started the cogs turning in your mind.

Yeah, he was pretty clearly a massive slag with no boundaries and an attitude problem, but you couldn’t deny that he was also the hottest thing that’d spoken to you in months. All of your recent relationships had been absolutely abysmal, so it might be nice to just bang it out with some asshole for the weekend…

Eh, you’d just have to see how it went. What did you have to lose?

—

Nat and Wanda were waiting for you in the kitchen. Apparently the boys were already on the beach setting up a fire pit for the evening, so you figured now was a good time to get a little more information about your potential weekend fuckbuddy.

‘So, I met Steve’s friend. He’s pretty hot.’

Nat raised an eyebrow at you. ‘Which one? Sam?’

‘Bucky.’

To this day you have no idea how she did it, but in an instant Nat somehow managed to turn into human fire at the sound of that name. Her eyes widened, head starting to erratically shake, an accusatory finger pointing right between your eyes.

‘You stay the fuck away from him.’ You looked over to Wanda, both of you stunned into silence. ‘Y/n, I’m saying this because I love you. Every woman he touches turns to crap. Stay away.’

‘I mean, it’d just be a bit of fun, it’s not like-’

‘That’s what they all say.’ Your intensely puzzled expression obviously made her realise that she needed to back up these wild claims with some evidence. ‘Look, he goes to the same college as one of my high school friends. They had a thing, she was super into him, but it ended because he slept with three of her best friends. In the same weekend.’

Ah.

You couldn’t say you were surprised. If he spoke to all women like he spoke to you back in the bedroom then, by law of averages, he probably got laid a lot. You weren’t an idiot, though, you could easily separate sex from feelings- especially if you knew that the guy was a huge player going into it.

‘He’s probably pretty good after all that practice though, right?’

Wanda found that pretty funny, but it earned you a severe case of daggers from Nat as she grabbed you firmly by the shoulders. ‘Look at me and repeat. I will not sleep with James Barnes.’

‘Who is James Barnes?’

‘Bucky. I will not sleep with Bucky. Say it.’

You rolled your eyes. ‘You can’t be serious.’

‘I’m as serious as a kick in the vulva, say it. NOW.’

‘Alright alright, I won’t sleep with Bucky, Jesus.’ You managed to shrug her hands off. ‘Happy?’

‘Yes. Now let’s go set some wood on fire.’

—

The fire pit was really going by the time it got dark. You paddled with everyone for a little while, hiding how on edge you were the whole time, but managed to get out of a midnight swim by claiming you were too tired. They went ahead and you just laid out on a blanket in the sand, happily relaxing on your own.

Then your peace was disturbed.

Bucky emerged from the water, wearing nothing but some rather clingy swimming shorts, and somehow started walking towards you in slow motion. He gave you a knowing smile before laying himself beside you on the blanket, about as close as he could manage without actually touching.

‘Nice swim, James?’

‘James?’ He flipped onto his side to face you, propping himself up on his elbow. ‘You been talking about me already?’

Shit. No way out of that one.

‘Well, you’ve got quite a reputation.’

‘Tell me about it, apparently I can’t even escape it all the way out here.’

‘Things spread, James.’ You glanced down to his crotch with a smirk, then back to his face. ‘You should know that better than anyone.’

A low chuckle vibrated next to you. ‘Real nice.’

Smiling to yourself, you folded your arms behind your head and let your eyes flutter closed, enjoying the sounds of the ocean and the distant warmth of the fire. You could sense that Bucky was still staring at you, the feelings that elicited really making if difficult for you to keep the promise you made just a few hours earlier.

‘If you’re tired, maybe we should go to bed.’

You couldn’t help but burst into astonished laughter. ‘You’re unbelievable.’

‘Life’s too short to mess around.’ 

You heard the vague sounds of the rest of your group wading out of the water. The blanket moved underneath you as Bucky shifted towards you slightly, his voice right next to your ear when he spoke again. 

‘I’ll be waiting, if you’re up for it.’

Your eyes flicked open just in time to see him climb back onto his feet, wave goodnight to everyone and slink back towards the house.

This was an interesting situation. You could either keep your promise to Nat by heading straight to your own bed and avoiding Bucky for the rest of the weekend- cause, let’s be real, that’s the only way you’d be able to resist him- or you could head to his room and have possibly the best sex of your life, which Nat would never find out about anyway cause you’d blackmail him into silence.

It seemed like kind of a no-brainer. 

You were young and single, damn it, you could have great meaningless sex with whoever the hell you wanted.

You gave it ten minutes before following him.

His bedroom door swung open and you were lifted clean off the ground before you could even manage two knocks, his goofy expression face making you giggle as he dropped you on the bed and climbed on top of you.

He leant towards you, but you shoved a hand over his mouth before he could make contact. ‘No-one can’t find out about this, especially Nat. Understand?’

‘Mmmph mmphm?’ He mumbled into your hand, making you roll your eyes and let his face go. ‘Why not?’

‘I, uh- I basically promised her I’d stay away from you. Plus, I don’t want everyone to know I’ve had a ride on the city bike.’

‘Yeah, I get that a lot.’

‘Jesus Christ.’

He gave you a cocky wink before dropping his head and closing the gap between you, slowly lowering himself down and letting his body come to rest against yours.

This definitely wasn’t a terrible idea, right?

—

Part 2

—

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in the rest of this story.

Permanent Taglist:@nnuree@tcc-gizmachine@emmabarnes@juenenfeu@ddowii@rebekahdawkins@x0xchristine@maevemarethyu@yayrainday@linkpk88@indigo123789@verygraphicink@buckyfan12@ene-rene@bawsewoman@babybluereads@marie1115@old-enough-to-know-better73@rottenstyx@kaitieskidmore1@queen-sands@bitterqueenofhearts@justreadingficsdontmindme@bucky-hues@barnesafterglow@unbeatablecurlgirl@carmellasworld@racewife2004@echo-32@just-a-littlebit-of-everything@teenagedreams-bucky@xpurpleglitter@fuck-you-with-a-fork@5289belle@divinediego@imaginetwilight2704@itsthemaree@cupcakehinch@supraveng@ladywintersoldat@xbeauxny@sea040561@just-that-dumb-bitch@mxrvelinhrt@sweetscandal@bonkybarneslover@iamlee1​ (italicised names are untaggable)

—

Summary: You weren’t expecting any meaningful results from court-mandated therapy, so meeting him really threw you for a loop

Pairing:FATWS!Bucky x y/n

Word Count:6k

Warnings:Language, hints to domestic violence

Author’s Note: I posted the first few parts of this as a series but it wasn’t working for me for some reason, so I thought I’d finish it off and upload it as one big chunk. We love a chunk. Disclaimer tho this is not at all canon with FATWS, it’s just loosely inspired by Bucky in therapy. Enjoy!

—

You could still smell it.

In this room, with all the doors and windows securely closed, you could still smell the stale cigarette smoke that always clung to his fingers. It had become a harbinger of sorts, a warning signal, a budgie down the mine chirping for its life before choking and dropping to the bottom of its cage like a rock.

If his hand was close enough for you to smell it, something unpleasant was coming next.

‘Y/n?’ The semi-stern voice dragged you out of your spiral. ‘Did I lose you for a second there?’

‘No. Not at all, I was, uh- just thinking about what to have for dinner.’

Her lips slowly pursed while a suspicious eyebrow crept its way up her forehead. You just huffed and shifted yourself around on the couch, waiting out the tense silence she’d manufactured in order to prompt you into a confession.

Oldest trick in the book, it wasn’t going to fucking wash.

She spoke again through a heavy sigh. ‘Y/n, you know what happens if these sessions aren’t productive. The court won’t look favourably on a blank report.’

Before experiencing it for yourself, you’d never have guessed the extent to which therapy involves passive-aggressive coercion and veiled threats. You could just save the bus fare and get the same amount of guilt and shame from an evening with your mother.

‘Defineproductive.’

‘Well, for one, you have to be honest with me.’

‘Awh, I can’t just make some shit up?’

Your smart-ass comment quickly turned to ash in your mouth as you were hit with the most severe stonewall you’d ever encountered, swiftly followed by a few more minutes of loaded silence.

Nine more weeks of this. You genuinely considered fleeing the country.

Your session mercifully ended ten minutes later but, naturally, you weren’t allowed your freedom without a final sprinkling of surreptitious duress.

‘Y/n, before you go-’ The doc stopped you just before you managed to break contact with the couch. ‘Are you aware that we also provide group sessions?’

A bolt of dread struck the top of your spine. 

Surely there was no way she could force you to attend those now that your sentence had already been passed? It was bad enough spending an hour of your week batting away her incessant questions, if you were made to give up another hour to listen to some sad-sack weep over his mommy issues and resulting failed marriage then you were definitely booking a ticket on the next plane across the Atlantic.

You winced and slowly began to shake your head, gripping the fabric of your jacket tight, dreading what she’d say next.

‘Well, we do offer your typical sit-in-a-circle-and-cry type meetings, but we’re also starting coffee mornings and cookery workshops. I think you’d benefit from them.’

She picked up a leaflet from the table beside her and strained to pass it over, pretending not to notice your obvious distaste as you took it between two fingers and eyed the front cover.

‘Are you insured to have that many crazies in the same room?’

A smirk twitched in the corner of her mouth. ‘Barely.’

You thought as much.

Either way, regardless of insurance coverage, if the meetings weren’t compulsory you certainly wouldn’t be attending. It’d take nothing short of a miracle to change your mind on that.

You leapt to your feet just as the second hand ticked over twelve and, after giving your shrink a polite and slightly smug nod, you made a beeline for the door. A whole week of sweet freedom was a mere few steps away when she called after you.

‘Oh, could you tell James I’m ready for him?’

‘Mhmm.’

You didn’t even break stride, yanking the door open as soon as it was in reach, but then stopping dead before crossing the threshold into the waiting room. 

The slight wobble that had started in your knees made walking any further quite a risk.

An intimidatingly stern but unreasonably attractive man was planted on the waiting room couch, staring stoically out of the window, apparently unaware of your presence. He was dressed pretty unusually for a New York summer day- most people would be absolutely sweltering in a leather jacket and matching gloves, but the insane heat didn’t seem to be bothering him much.

‘She’s, uh-’ You opened with the most inelegant voice crack you could possibly have mustered, causing him to send an alarmed look in your direction. ‘She’s ready for you.’

He gave a quick nod before calmly rising to his feet and slinking past you like a jaguar. A faint scent of bourbon and sandalwood was left in his wake, which only became stronger as you took a few small steps into the waiting room.

You didn’t register it in the moment, but that was the first time in weeks you’d been able to escape that lingering smell of stale cigarettes.

After hearing the door softly close behind you, your eyes danced down to the group therapy leaflet now slightly crushed in your sweaty palm, and you began to wonder whether the doc was plugging these group sessions to all her clients…

Maybe they were worth a shot.

—

The weather was suitably grim as you trudged off the bus and headed towards the Casual Chat and Coffee Morning, cursing yourself for being so susceptible to brooding beefcakes clad in leather- a weakness that had led you astray countless times before.

Ugh, he probably wouldn’t even show up.

You half-jogged through the streets in a futile attempt to avoid getting soaked, pissed that you were actively choosing this over staying in bed until midday, eating dry cereal straight out of the box and crying at teen movies on Netflix.

Your wet shoes squelched across the community centre’s linoleum floor as you slowly descended into the fifth circle of hell. The echoing of overly-enthusiastic voices down the hallway almost made you turn back, but you were determined to at least show your face, even if the only thing you gained was some brownie points from your tyrannical shrink.

You shoved open the door and quickly scanned the room, seeing absolutely no sign of him. He was obviously far more sane than you.

The temptation to swivel round and leave immediately had almost swayed you when an elderly lady with a seemingly permanent sad expression caught your eye. She waved you over to the beverage table, so you had no choice but to hold your breath and jump in head-first.

It was a bad decision.

Marjorie talked at you for twenty minutes about her abandonment issues, which apparently stemmed from a tabby cat that left to live with her neighbour. Although listening to her did make you feel a little better about your own life, you’d still rather have been anywhere else, doing anything else. 

Your will to live had reached a critically low level when you finally spotted James slip in through the door and sequester himself to the far corner, shooting threatening stares at anyone who dared to stray within chatting distance. 

The extent to which that got you going was pretty worrying.

Usually, you tried your best not to judge a book by its cover, but you just couldn’t stop thinking that he didn’t look at all the type to be in therapy- guys that looked like him usually chose to drink and/or punch away their problems.

Then again, you had no room to judge, cause that’s exactly what you’d be doing without this fucking court mandate.

Marjorie shoved a biscoff towards your face and snapped you back to reality, at which point you realised that you’d been pretty blatantly staring at the poor boy ever since he arrived. It was probably time to scrape together as much subtlety as you could before he got too freaked out.

You spun around and began to pour yourself a coffee, inwardly cursing your blundering approach to expressing attraction, when a gruff voice piped up beside you.

‘What are you in for?’

You jumped out of your skin. James had somehow managed to approach you and plant himself less than a few inches away in complete silence. The shock of finding him in such close proximity caused you to launch Marjorie’s biscoff into the air, which he somehow managed to catch and place back in your hand without so much as a glance towards your face, before quickly reverting his attention to the cup of water he was pouring.

‘Uh, bereavement.’ You lied. You had no idea why you lied, he could obviously tell, that much was clear from his amused expression. ‘You?’

‘Long story.’

‘Good long or boring long?’

His eyes flicked in your direction and you realised that, despite only being close to him for a few seconds, the woodsy scent of his cologne was already beginning to overpower the haunting odour which usually lingered around you.

He smirked slightly and took a gulp of water before turning his body in your direction, arms folded over his chest. ‘Depends what kind of stories you like.’

‘Oh, gory ones with lots of death.’

His face dropped, all the colour draining from it in an instant.

What a fucking idiot you were. That was obviously terrible joke to make at a fucking group therapy session, why couldn’t you fucking think before opening your fucking face?

‘Shit, sorry.’ You rubbed your eyes exasperatedly. ‘It’s actually amazing how coherent I am, considering I live with my foot in my mouth.’

A dry chuckle escaped his lips. ‘It’s pretty impressive.’

‘You should see me at funerals, I’m a hoot.’

‘I’ll bet.’ He pulled a leather glove off his right hand before reaching it towards you. ‘Bucky.’

‘Y/n. Pleasure.’

The feeling of his hand caught you off-guard a little. It was rough and weathered, far too rough for someone his age unless they’d spent the last twenty years working on a farm or an oil rig, which you doubted. You also couldn’t help thinking that he didn’t look the type to introduce himself with a nickname. This guy was an increasingly complex puzzle…

Or maybe you were just terrible at reading people.

‘If everyone could find a seat, we’ll be starting in five minutes.’

The shrink’s announcement caused you and Bucky to shoot horrified glances at each other. He grabbed his cup and crumpled it up, tossing it in the trash can before pulling his glove back on.

‘I think I’m gonna head off.’

‘Oh, okay.’ You tried your best not to let disappointment leak into your words. ‘Can’t say I blame you.’

He paused and closely observed you for a second, your best attempt at a polite, atmosphere-diffusing smile doing nothing to ward off the staring. His hand moved up to rub the back of his head- if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was a little nervous.

‘I don’t suppose- is there, uh- any chance you wanna get a real drink somewhere?’

It was profoundly strange hearing such a timid voice coming from such an intimidating host, but even that was incredibly endearing to you for some reason. Your cheeks started to prickle slightly. 

Man, you really needed to get laid, and soon. 

‘Yeah, that sounds great.’ You answered far more enthusiastically than intended. ‘Well, I mean, better than sitting around listening to Marjorie go on about Gerald the cat.’

‘Who?’

‘Oh, she’s- it was- doesn’t matter.’

He nodded, very confused, and gestured for you to follow him to the door. 

Maybe one day you’d be able to prise that big ol’ foot out of your mouth, but apparently it wasn’t happening anytime soon.

Once you got out into the hallway, he stayed a few steps ahead of you, addressing you over his shoulder like some kind of drill sergeant. ‘I know a place we can go.’

‘Yeah, s’fine with me.’ You replied, adding under your breath, ‘Fingers crossed that story of yours doesn’t involve dangerous alcoholism.’

‘What?’

He stopped dead, spun round and stared intently at you again. It was difficult to hide your sudden panic, you were sure you’d said that way too quietly for him to hear.

‘Oh, I just know that a couple people back there are pretty deep in prehab.’ Your words were punctuated with nervous laughter. ‘Wouldn’t want to ruin your AA streak, y'know?’

‘Appreciate the concern, think I’ll be fine.’

Yikers. Note to self, Bucky can hear everything.

You just about managed to catch up to him when the two of you got out of the community centre, but you almost had to jog to stay beside him as he strode down the street. The man moved like a spooked jungle cat.

Your familiarity with the surrounding landscape quickly faded as he led you through winding back streets and you realised, far too late, that you’d followed a complete stranger who was in therapy for unknown reasons and could easily overpower you into a completely unfamiliar setting.

It was strange, but there was something about him you couldn’t quite put your finger on, something that made you trust him- and you hadn’t trusted anyone for years.

Turning a final corner, you were greeted by a flickering red neon sign, a sight that was somehow even more depressing in the daylight. Bucky tugged the door open and stepped aside, holding it open so you could enter first. 

You appreciated the gesture but one glance inside made you really wish you had someone to hide behind.

Every intimidating figure in the place turned to glare at the timid-looking newbie, with clothes and hair still damp, quaking slightly in the doorway. Bucky planted a reassuring hand on your back and led you over to the far corner, where you sequestered yourself into a booth.

‘They’re friendlier than they look,’ he took a quick glance around the room, ‘probably. I’ll get some drinks.’

You swallowed thickly, not exactly thrilled at the prospect of being left alone here for any stretch of time- granted, it was ever so slightly less horrific than the coffee morning, but at least there you didn’t have to worry about getting shanked by Marjorie. 

After a few minutes, Bucky strolled back to the table with two tumblers half-full of golden liquid. 

Shit. 

You really, really hated whiskey, but he’d paid, so you figured it would just be unreasonably rude to complain.

‘So, who died?’

‘What?’

Your confused expression made him chuckle slightly into his glass. ‘Your bereavement?’

‘Oh. OH. My- uh, my-’ You stumbled over yourself for a few seconds before giving up. ‘My ability to think of convincing lies on the spot, apparently.’

‘No shit.’ He glanced over at you and stayed quiet for a few seconds, obviously intrigued at the real reason you were in therapy but not wanting to pry too hard. ‘S'alright, we don’t have to talk about it. Can just sit here in silen-’

‘It was my ex.’

Both eyebrows shot up his forehead. ‘What’d you do to him?’

‘Don’t worry, I didn’t kill him or anything. Even though he probably deserved it.’

‘Did he treat you bad?’ 

‘He just took everything out on me. Words turned into fists, then one day I just lost it and-’ He was listening to you intently, a flicker of pity in his eyes. ‘I set his car on fire.’

He was clearly trying to hide a slightly impressed smirk. ‘That’s not so bad.’

‘And his motorbike.’

‘Still, not too-’

‘And pushed them both into the East River.’

‘Well, I-’

‘On his birthday.’

Bucky nodded, wearing a pained expression as he did his best to smother his laughter. You couldn’t help but giggle at the shapes his face was making, which set him off, and the two of you sat quietly chuckling at each other for the next few minutes. 

In all fairness you’d always thought it was a pretty funny story. The memory of that underwater metal wreckage never failed to make you grin to yourself but, unfortunately, the judge didn’t really see it that way. 

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you. You were just on the brink of building up enough courage to ask about his backstory, but he piped up before you could.  

‘So what happened to him?’ His tone had suddenly shifted down into one of grave severity, the change in atmosphere throwing you off a little.

‘Well, nothing, really. I had no evidence against him, he was never stupid enough to hit me where he’d make a mark.’

‘And where is he now?’

‘No idea. Kinda hoping I’ll never find out.’

‘Let me know if you do.’ Bucky finished off his drink and glanced over to yours, noticing it untouched. ‘You’ve been nursing that for a while, not a whiskey drinker?’

‘I didn’t want to say anything…’

‘S’alright, I should’ve asked.’

He swiftly grabbed both glasses and barrelled over to the bar, downing your entire glassful on the short walk over without so much as wincing. 

Your story seemed to have gotten under his skin a little. You hoped you hadn’t said something to upset him, but you figured that was definitely a possibility considering the whole foot-in-mouth thing you had going on today. 

Maybe now would be a good time to distract him by asking for his story. Besides, you were still incredibly intrigued at the series of events that landed a guy like him in the same therapy office as you.

He eventually got back the table and placed a bright orange drink, complete with a colourful straw and cocktail umbrella, in front of you. 

Bless him, he tried. 

As he took a seat, you immediately noticed how tense his shoulders were, and how he kept clenching and unclenching his jaw for no discernible reason. 

‘You alright? You seem a little agitated.’ He smiled slightly and nodded, taking a long sip from his glass. ‘Well, I’m ready to hear that long story now if you’re ready to tell it.’

‘Nah, you don’t want to hear it. It’s boring long.’

‘Can I be the judge of that?’

‘Honestly, it’s not much to hear.’ You gave him your best prompting-without-being-too-nosey look. ‘I just have some stuff to sort out.’

‘No shit. We’ve all got stuff to sort out, that’s kinda the point.’

He let out an amused sigh. ‘I’ve got amends to make, s’all.’

‘Amends? You sure you’re not in AA?’

‘Pretty sure, to be honest I don’t even know what that is.’

The two of you started chuckling again, which was only made worse when you braved a sip of your orange monstrosity and winced so hard that your face almost folded in half. You should’ve known this place wouldn’t make decent cocktails.

He changed the topic of conversation after that and you decided to just go with it- he obviously wasn’t comfortable disclosing details of his past to you yet, you didn’t want to make things awkward by pressing him any further.

A few god-awful drinks later, you were teetering on drunkenness, but he seemed absolutely no different. He just sat and happily listened to your tipsy ramblings, a fond smile plastered on his face. The two of you somehow ended up staying until closing time.

After being kicked out, you followed Bucky into the street and suddenly remembered that you had no idea where you were. Drunk and lost in the dark back-streets of New York was not a good situation for anyone to be in.

‘So, to get back to the community centre, I go…’ You spun around a few times before stopping and blindly pointing a finger down the first alley you saw. ‘This way?’

Bucky shook his head at you, endlessly amused. ‘Not even close. C’mon, I’ll walk you home.’

‘Appreciate it, definitely wouldn’t have survived on my own.’

‘I figured.’

He offered you an arm, probably just to make sure you stayed upright, and led you back through the winding streets. It was a long walk and the breeze was bitterly chilly, but his company made it bearable. You eventually managed to get your bearings and direct the two of you towards your apartment.

He hung around by the door while you fished around in your bag, nervously clearing his throat and looking as though he was building up to something. The sight of keys in your hand eventually made him pipe up.

‘So I was, uh- just wondering if you wanted to do this again sometime? Maybe I could take your telephone number?’

‘Ah, my cellular telephone number?’ You gave him a teasing smirk, slowly becoming more and more convinced that the mind of a pensioner was packed somewhere into that hard body. ‘Sure, I’d be up for that.’

You checked yourself for a second as he reached his phone out and started tapping at it with his index finger. Was this a bad idea? After that last asshole your mom was desperate for you to bag a normal, but every normal guy you’d ever dated ended up boring the hell out of you…

Fuck it, you had nothing to lose at this point.

You grabbed his phone out of his hand and opened up the contacts app, seeing a worryingly small number of names appear on the screen, one of them being simply ‘Asshole’. Ignoring all your better judgements, you put in your details and handed it back.

The two of you then found yourselves awkwardly standing opposite each other, neither of you quite sure of the appropriate way to say goodbye. He didn’t look like a hugger, so maybe a handshake? No, this wasn’t the end of a fucking business meeting. You couldn’t bring yourself to even attempt a high-five.

You’d been point-blank staring at him for a few seconds now.

‘See you around.’ You gave an awkward wave as you turned to unlock your door.

‘Yeah, I hope so.’

You hopped in the door and quickly closed it behind you so he wouldn’t see the child-like grin his response elicited.

You hoped so too.

—

Your next therapy session went surprisingly well. The doc got a couple sneaky guilt-trips in about you leaving the coffee morning early, but once you admitted that you’d spent the evening having deep chats with someone new she perked up immediately and seemed extremely pleased.

You chose not to divulge that the chats had involved some covert flirting with another of her patients, and that you’d been pretty frequently texting with that individual ever since, cause that seemed like a detail that might tip her over the edge- but overall it was a big win. 

The session came to an end and, same as last time, the doc asked you to send James in. He jumped to his feet when he saw you in the doorway, his face lighting up.

‘Your turn Buck, I left her in a good mood for you.’

‘Thanks,’ he laughed a little awkwardly through his words, ‘but I’m sure I’ll ruin that pretty quickly.’

‘I don’t doubt it.’

You gave him a wide grin as you shuffled past, semi-intentionally brushing your arm against his. Just as you were about to reach the door his voice stopped you in your tracks.

‘Hey, are you free later? We could grab a coffee? Or something else, if you don’t like coffee I mean, I’m not that big a-’

‘Sounds great.’ You smiled reassuringly and gestured to the couch. ‘I’ll wait here.’

‘Alright, I’ll try to make it quick.’

‘Hope you don’t make a habit of that.’

You got a mischievous eyebrow raise in response to that comment, not bad for a shy guy.

The two of you ended up spending the whole day together. You had a coffee and walked through the park, eventually sitting down on a bench and wasting away the daylight hours just talking. 

Once it was almost dark, Bucky plucked up some courage from god-knows-where and actually invited you back to his apartment for a beer. You were very bloody shocked but it was quite possibly the fastest yes you’d ever given anyone. 

You felt a little apprehensive as he started leading you down a couple seedy-looking back alleys, but to be fair your apartment wasn’t exactly in the nicest part of the city, so you couldn’t judge. 

That was, until an unsavoury looking figure emerged from the darkness and started heading straight towards you.

Immediately, like it was instinctual, Bucky planted himself in front of you and squared his shoulders. The two of them threw a couple aggressive words back and forth but you couldn’t make them out over the sound of thumping in your ears. You were terrible with confrontation, you just hoped Bucky was as tough as he looked.

As it turns out, his looks were just the half of it.

It all happened in a flash, before you could blink Bucky had this guy pinned against the wall with one arm, his feet dangling above the floor like some kind of shit-scared marionette. You probably would’ve found it a little funny if your fight-or-flight instincts weren’t registering off the charts.

Then, just like that, he was gone. He scurried off as soon as Bucky released his grip.

A pair or strong hands came to rest either side of your face. ‘You alright?’

‘I’m good, yeah.’ You were more than good actually, you were feeling some kind of way after that display. ‘We should keep moving, I’d really like that beer now.’

You laced your arm tightly through his, both of you quick-marching the rest of the way back.

His apartment was… interesting.

It was pretty small, but that definitely wasn’t the issue- the issue was how completely bare it was. The living room had a small couch, a TV and, for some reason, a set of bed sheets laid out on the floor. 

Again, you weren’t exactly in a position to judge, but this really didn’t look like a healthy living space.

You perched on the couch while Bucky grabbed the drinks, not bothering to shift yourself over when he sat down next to you, his thigh pressed against yours.

‘Nice place.’

‘Thanks, but you don’t have to lie. Maybe we should go to your place next time.’

The corner of your mouth curled into a faint smile. ‘Next time?’

A new kind of atmosphere fell between the two of you. 

He slid his arm across the back of the couch behind you, your bottles clinking together as he leant towards you. Slowly, cautiously, his lips pressed against yours. You could tell he was holding back a little, maybe he didn’t want to come on too strong, but it was still one of the nicest moments you’d ever had with a guy.

He pulled away, and you decided you couldn’t keep your curiosity at bay anymore.

‘Who are you, James?’

‘What d’you mean?’

He knew exactly what you meant, you could tell by the look in his eyes, but it seemed like he was willing you to spell it out for him. ‘You’re unbelievably strong, you can hear literally everything, you’re cagey about anything to do with your past and you have this whole apartment but you choose to sleep in sheets on the living room floor. You’re like a riddle that I can’t even begin to solve.’

‘If I told you, you wouldn’t want to be around me anymore.’

‘You think?’ A sceptical eyebrow started to creep up your forehead. ‘I really don’t have a license to be picky.’

‘What you did is nothing in comparison to the things I’ve done.’

That threw you a little. ‘You make it sound like I’m in danger or something.’

You were half-joking, but the look on his face sent real waves of fear through you. A heavy silence swept through the room, Bucky’s eyes were fixed on the bottle he was gripping tightly, the muscles in his forearms flexing hard.

Without warning, he shot up to his feet. ‘You should go. I’ll call you a cab.’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry I just-’

‘It wasn’t anything you did, it’s me.’

Alright, up until now you were very willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, but that comment was enough to make your mood flip entirely.

‘It’s not you it’s me? Brilliant.’

‘No, really-’

‘Don’t bother. See you around, Buck.’

You put your untouched beer on the floor and left the apartment as quickly as you could, cursing how stupid you’d been for ever thinking you could trust a guy again. You’d shared something with him so personal that you hadn’t even told your fucking therapist, and now he was brushing you off with that shit?

It figures, even the ones that seemed kind and vulnerable were just assholes deep down.

You got home, got into bed and lay there in the dark for hours. You could still smell the stale cigarette smoke, still hear heavy breathing beside you, still feel the sting of tears in your eyes as you silently cried yourself to sleep once more.

—

You ignored at least twenty calls off him the next day. You hoped he’d get the message, but he obviously didn’t, cause he showed up at your door that evening. 

After spotting him out of the window you immediately decided that you weren’t home. You didn’t need some useless apology or explanation, plus your eyes were way too post-cry puffy to cover up with any amount of makeup.

Unfortunately, it turned out that he was just as stubborn as you. When banging on the door for a good twenty minutes hadn’t worked he decided to start shouting.

‘Y/n, I know you’re in there. Open up. Talk to me.’

Talk about what? You’d already established that he’s just another troubled, emotionally unavailable asshole who you’ll regret ever meeting after a couple months together- there was nothing else to talk about.

You drew the curtains and put your headphones in, he was the neighbour’s problem after that.

When you went downstairs the next morning to get the mail, you found a scribbled note at the bottom of the pile, written on the back of a receipt for protein bars and scotch.

I’ll be at the bar all night, if you don’t show I’ll leave you alone.

No. You weren’t going.

No way would you put yourself through all this again for the sake of some asshole. You were better on your own, happier even. Sure, he was nice and handsome and kind, but he was brandishing more red flags than a Chinese naval fleet.

You weren’t going. That was it.

—

You got to the bar at around 8pm.

As soon as you walked in you spotted Bucky, hunched in the same corner as last time, brooding. His gaze didn’t waver from his drink until you were right in front of him.

Once he noticed you, he stood up so fast that his legs whacked against the table, a loud thud echoing through the room. ‘Shit, sorry. I didn’t think you’d come.’

‘Neither did I.’ You flopped yourself down opposite him with a sigh. ‘You’ve got two minutes.’

You’d never seen someone look so on edge, his body looking uncomfortably tense as he lowered himself back down. He looked at you in silence for a few seconds before taking a deep breath and starting.

‘In that case, I should probably start with this.’

He slowly and theatrically removed his right glove, revealing the weathered hand you’d seen back at the coffee morning, the whole performance prompting a slightly puzzled look from you. 

Then took off the glove on his left hand. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

It was… metal?

A burnished, mechanical hand was just lying on the table in front of you, motionless, glinting slightly under the dim light of the bar. He just stared at you, obviously trying to gauge your reaction.

‘Alright.’ You nodded slowly. ‘Three minutes.’

You saw the relief spread over his face when he realised you were teasing. 

Then he started talking. 

Your mouth was probably hanging open the whole time and you had to stop him to get parts repeated every couple of minutes, but you believed every word. Who the hell would make this up?

Besides, he was sitting there waving around a metal arm, so you couldn’t exactly discredit that part.

Finally, he finished.

‘So… what do you think?’

‘I think I’m sitting here on a date with a fucking pensioner.’ He laughed, obviously reassured by the fact you hadn’t made a run for it yet. ‘Jesus. I’m glad you trust me with all this but I gotta admit, that’s a hell of a lot to take in. ’

‘I know, but the doc thinks I need to open up and trust people more. You’re the only person I’ve enjoyed the company of since I lost my best friend so, if trust is what it takes not to lose you, then I’m an open book.’

Well, that hit you like a punch in the gut. It look a great deal of self-restraint for you not to start welling up.

You reached your hands over the table to meet his. You had to admit it was a little strange, his right hand being warm and fleshy while his left was so firm and cold, but it was definitely something you could get used to. He looked a little insecure about it, obviously he’d never been touched like that since losing his arm.

‘I still think you’re a good guy, Buck.’ By the look on his face you could tell you’d just given him a matching punch in the gut. ‘Granted, this whole situation is a little more complex than I’d anticipated, but I really enjoy your company too. I don’t want to give that up.’

He smiled at you for a few seconds, hands turning over to lightly grip yours, thumbs brushing over your knuckles. ‘So, I don’t suppose there’s any chance you want to come back to my place?’

‘I don’t know, are you gonna go all weird again?’

‘I mean, I just told you I’m over a hundred years old and you’re still here, I don’t think it gets weirder than this.’

‘Good point. Let’s get out of here.’

The walk back was less treacherous this time, and it was nice knowing that Bucky probably felt much more at ease- mainly cause he didn’t have to worry about how he was going to justify keeping a long-sleeved shirt and gloves on in the sack.

You eventually found yourself back in his living room, standing over his unmade floor-bed, with a few interesting thoughts swimming through your mind.

Was this your set-up for the evening? Did he have an actual bed? Did he even need to sleep? What would it feel like if he used that metal arm on you while you were-

‘You alright?’

‘Hmm?’ Bucky pulled you away from your eager fantasies. ‘Oh, I’m good, just trying to figure out the logistics here.’

He looked from you, down to the floor-bed, then back to you. ‘Yeah, sorry, I do have a bed it’s just… not made.’

With a chuckle and a head shake in his direction, you gathered up all the loose sheets from the floor and headed in the general direction you guessed for his bedroom, hearing his soft footsteps padding behind you.

Making the bed was a task. He clearly had no idea what he was doing, watching him try to put the cover on a pillow was like watching a gorilla try to crack the enigma code. It was almost as though he was a frozen relic from a time when women did all the housework- oh wait.

The two of you finally managed to cobble together something that looked reasonably comfortable.

‘Nice job, soldier.’

His gaze met yours, eyes darkening slightly. ‘Call me that again and I’ll have to do something about it.’

Well, this was new. 

You’d met timid, stuttering Bucky and you’d met sincere, pouring-his-heart-out Bucky, but you’d certainly never met intense sex-eyes Bucky.

You fucking liked it though.

‘Oh yeah?’ You took a step towards him, doing everything you could to stay composed and not melt all over the floor. ‘Prove it, soldier.’

‘Right.’

Before you could register what was happening you’d been lifted clean off the floor and thrown pretty unceremoniously onto the bed. The sensations of different parts of his body pressed against yours made you dizzy, the smell of him all over the sheets mingled with the sweetness of his warm breath filling all your senses and finally chasing of that fucking cigarette smell for good.

‘Wait, hang on.’ You managed to sit yourself up, Bucky sitting back on his heels but not letting his face move more than a few inches away from yours. ‘So was the last time for you, in like, the 40′s?’

‘Sounds worse than it is, I was frozen for most of the time.’

You almost laughed out loud at him. ‘Wow, your gauge for good and bad is really messed up.’

‘That’s what you get for jumping into bed with a guy you met in a therapist’s office.’

‘Fair enough.’

You grabbed him by the shirt and pulled his face back towards yours, now pretty excited to bring him up to speed with all the bedroom developments he’d missed out on during the second half of the 20th century. 

Poor guy probably hadn’t even tried anything other than missionary.

As you were lying there, with his face buried in your neck, a wonderful thought dawned on you. Finally, you’d found something worth living for, something that would let you move on from all the shit in your past.

Maybe you could be that for him, too.

—

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Summary:When your best friend Sam finally moved into his own place, you thought it would give you both the new lease of life you’d been craving. Then he introduced you to his roommate…

Pairing:Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 9k

Warnings:Language

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Part One/Part Two/Part Three

Part Four /Part Five /Part Six

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dizzydancingdreamer:

Easy Peasy | Peter Parker

Note: Back to deflecting all my shit onto Peter Parker because, well, I don’t know I just do. I’m okay, I’m just tired, and I’m tired of explaining that I don’t want to die but I’m also not happy. I am tired of being not happy, too, but this is easier to tackle. This was written fast through tears it might be shit.

Description: Peter doesn’t want to die but he doesn’t want to be alive either

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark (mentioned) 

Warnings: death, grief, harmful thoughts about self and death (read tags) but it’s not graphic at all it’s just depressing

Word count: 1.1k

Tags: Angst: talk of wanting to die, grief, depression (god this is not sounding good— DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE A FLIGHT RISK I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE)

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Peter Parker doesn’t want to die. 

Peter Parker doesn’t want to die but, well, he doesn’t really want to be alive either. Not really. Not at all. But he doesn’t know how to explain that to anyone because, sure, Tony died and, yeah, the world almost ended, or something like that, but it’s fine, you know? He’s young, he’s smart— things come easyto him. 

Peter Parker shouldn’t want to die because he’s young, and smart, and things come easy to him.

Except waking up— that doesn’t come easy to him. Or getting out of bed. Or putting on his socks. Or finding his socks. Or remembering that socks are a thing and that he needs to wear them or else his heels get blistered and then he won’t want to get out of bed in the morning. But besides that he’s young, and smart, and things come easy to him so he should want to be alive. 

Keep reading

The Will and The Way

Summary: In the midst of Odin’s death, a will is to be read. Asgard is overjoyed, but still in mourning. It is clear everything will go to one of his two sons, Prince Thor or Prince Loki, and there’s hardly a question as to which will win everything. But what if neither of them does?? What if, with a major catch, a young maid is the name they find written and bound to the throne…

Warnings: violence, angst, potentially some steam…

Pairings: OC x Loki/ OC x Thor (Love triangle)

Key Characters:

Astrid Ivarsdottir

“I am not a game for you to play. I am the player, and I will win.”

Thor Odinson

“I may be kind, but that is not to say I will not strike back in a time of need. Ruling me out is your own mistake.”

Loki Odinson

“You tell me, is it the truth or am I just very persuasive? Even I can’t tell the difference sometimes.”

Parts

Part 1: Reading day

Tis the damn Season

Oneshot #55 - part 3 (and last part) to White Horse

Pairing: Loki x reader

Warnings: Might have a bit of mentions of violence, alludes to sexual content but doesn’t actually involve it

Tags:  @peachybaes,@wolfish-trickster , @writinguntilmyheartgivesout  and @nms224​ (thank you guys for the support on White horse, and on Good 4 U, you have no idea how ecstatic they made me, my heart was very happy, I appreciate you, and all my other readers and I hope you enjoy the finale to this little series )

A/N: AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! I never thought I’d actually finish this part because I kept alternating between what I wanted to do with it but I am so happy with how it did turn out!! Honestly you don’t have to read the other parts to understand this one but I would recommend it. Anywayyyy, ENJOY!!!!!

You take a deep breath as you collect your thoughts, walking carefully through the doors to enter the golden Asgardian palace for the first time in forever.

Your eyes flit over to a flash of green and gold and you panic, turning the other way to run from that which you feared seeing again so much.

You hadn’t been home in ages, too taken with the cultures and ways of mortals on earth to want to come back. The only reason you’d returned was because your mother had begged for your presence at the annual royal celebration that had become tradition for you to attend. Other than that, you were completely uninterested in being back in this realm.

“As I live and breath… hello to you fair y/n.” The familiar teasing voice says calmly from the distance. You freeze in place, cursing him and his buttery smooth voice in your head as you turn, your grimace quickly replaced with a smile.

“Your highness.” You greet quietly, wanting nothing more than to leave this awkward interaction.

“I believe we’ve known each other long enough that you may call me my name y/n.” He challenges, his smile turning to the mischievous smirk.

“Of course… Loki.” You murmur through gritted teeth. He nods in approval tauntingly.

“We’ve missed you around here. Lady Sif and I have had to find different ways to entertain each other.” He says, his grin staying in place as your demeanor shifts a bit out of place.

If I wanted to know

Who you were hanging with

While I was gone, I would’ve asked you

“Of course. I’m sure you found your ways though. You always have.” You reply steadily, turning to step around him to find your way to your family. “If you’ll excuse me.” You mutter on your way around him.

You wait, expecting him to step in your way and block your path but to your surprise, the gesture doesn’t come.

“We will be seeing each other.” Loki hums from behind you. With that, a feeling of surprise longing and unease settles in your stomach as you make your way away from him.

——————————————————————

“My darling y/n, you look lovely.” Your mother cries as you watch yourself in the golden framed mirror.

She’s not wrong, you know it. You do in fact look amazing, shimmering in a dark y/f/c ensemble fit for royalty, decked out in an array of gold and silver detailing.

But the reflection in the mirror was almost unrecognizable. You know this was how you’d dressed and looked before you left, but this style, this lavish look was like it belonged to another person. You felt like you couldn’t possibly be the one looking back at you in the reflection.

“Thanks mom.” You murmur appreciatively, ignoring the pit of doubt in your throat.

Your mother leaves, hurrying off to ready herself for the festivities but you crash down onto your bed, staring up at the decorative ceiling. Not every household had paintings over their heads, but you were one of the luckier ones, with flowers and a meadow painted above where you slept, keeping you grounded and relaxed in your worst moments.

“You know my love, those flowers are just like you. Wild, beautiful and full of life.” You hear his voice in the back of your mind but not in the invasive way it normally was. No, this voice was sweet as honey, one from a distant memory. A smile came to your lips uncontrollably as you remembered the moments he’d traced symbols over your bare arms with his chilling fingers, wrapped up in the soft sheets together, having sent shivers up your spine every time.

If you were being honest with yourself, you’d longed for that familiar chill when he’d spoken with you in the halls.

It’s the kind of cold

Fogs up windshield glass

But I felt it when I passed you

“Come on y/n, we can’t be late.” Your mother calls and you quickly run down to her, wanting to escape your thoughts more than anything.

You fix your hair as you come to a slow down the end of the hall, quietly following the rest of your family towards the city square.

The Center of Asgard is buzzing with activity, kids running around the town square. You laughed a little as a little girl ran around your legs but a moment later a little boy chasing her catches you off guard. You move to jump out of the way but the heel of your shoe gets caught on a woman’s dress and you trip towards the ground.

A second later you’re gazing into the cloudy eyes of the crowned prince, his arms holding you upright easily.

“Are you alright?” He asks, a look of genuine concern on his face. Your y/e/c widen as you stare up at him, your mouth slightly ajar in shock.

“I-I’m fine thanks.” You mutter, pulling yourself out of your trance. He pulls you up with him as he stands straight, sticking his hands in his pockets awkwardly.

“Seeing as you are in fact fine, would you do me the honour of accompanying me in a dance?” He asks, a flicker of hope in his eye.

There’s an ache in you

Put there by the ache in me

“Sure.” You say after a hesitant pause as you brush nonexistent dust off your clothes.

A tentative smile plays on his lips as he pulls you into his arms for a dance, leading the way to the makeshift floor, the motion like a second nature to him.

“Even after all this time you still know how to dance so well.” You tease with a smile. He chuckles, the sound filling your ears happily.

Asgard may have been where you’d grown up but it felt like you’d outgrown it. Everything about Loki though, somehow, you could never be done with him. Not without lying to yourself anyway.

“So, you and lady Sif hm?” You ask with a smirk as he laughs a little harder.

“Goodness no. If she knew I had told you such lies she would have my head on a platter.” He admits, making you giggle yourself.

“Glad to hear.” You hum as he dips you towards the floor, meeting your eyes. You both stare for a moment, reminiscing.

But if it’s all the same to you

It’s the same to me

“It has been rather dull with you gone you know.” Loki teases, pulling you to your feet and twirling you around effortlessly.

“I always have been the life of the party.” You joke with a wide grin as he pulls you back into him.

“Or all others just simply cannot compare to you.” He shrugs with a knowing smirk as you try to hide your blush.

You spend the night twirling away in his arms, watching the festivities take place around you and slowly remembering why you hadn’t left Asgard sooner. The beauty of the kingdom at night, the lights like fine glitter against the gold of the palace nearby almost too much to bear.

Loki watches in amusement as you take everything in once again, smiling at the small sparkle in your eyes.

“You always had a way of making it seem as though you were only just seeing the city for the first time, no matter how many years you have spent here.” He notes, his lips pursed in concentration.

“Well to be fair, it’s like I’m seeing it through new eyes today.” You say with a grin.

You try to ignore the obvious frown on his face, not wanting to further ruin the mood.

“I see you have been enjoying your time on Midgard then.” He says, an undertone of bitterness evident in his voice.

You sigh, crossing your arms at the topic.

“Yes Loki, I’m enjoying my time doing what I wanted to do, now if you’ll excuse me.” You mumble, walking quickly away from him, narrowly missing his arm reaching out for you.

You head back inside while he stands there, letting out a groan of frustration at his own stupidity.

He gives up on his own common sense and chases you, grabbing your hand gently. “I am sorry. I should not… I do not know why I brought that up. I allowed my own pride to get ahead of me.” He admits, frowning at you apologetically. “Would you please forgive a dear old idiot prince?” He teases and you snicker, a smile cracking through your angry state.

So we could call it even

You could call me babe for the weekend

“I don’t know Loki, you really acted like a dick.” You sigh honestly, laughing again when he looks at you quizzically. “a jerk, an ass, a true idiot.” You elaborate, giggling. He nods, finally grasping your meaning.

“I know. I really did. But I have seen how you feel without me there. I just…. I am not ready to let go of you yet my love.” He murmurs softly, taking your hand in his carefully as though it might break. A familiar shiver runs up your hand and down your spine, the tingle of it sending a nostalgic twang to your heart.

“Please Loki don’t call me that. I can’t… It’s too much.” You plead quietly, your voice barely a whisper as the words escape your lips. He nods in silent understanding.

You stand in quiet peace, you not pulling your hand away from his own and tentatively leaning against the railing, leaving your hand with his for the comfort.

“Did you know that it’s actually a holiday on Midgard right now too? Well, not really a holiday but it’s what they also call the ‘Holiday season’. It’s beautiful there right now too, all decked out in lights and colours and sweets and different ornaments they hang from their trees. They have a lot of different holidays celebrated by all different people, that’s what the midgardians call themselves, and it’s really strange but at the same time it’s almost magical.” You explain, wanting to share your experiences with him to try and show him why you felt interest about Midgard.

“And which is your favourite?” He asks quietly, nuzzling up to you as he used to, wanting to hear your voice regardless of the fact that it was about the place he now so loathed.

“Well I like them all. And they have this stuff falling from the sky called snow, it’s like a white powder. Kids play in it and you have to shovel it in the morning to get to work, that I had to learn the harder way.” You ramble, laughing at the memory of your first snowfall not long ago. “It’s so different from Asgard, they’re so much less formal there. It’s really strange, talking in shortened terms, different technologies. It’s really fascinating Loki.” You finish and his faint smile is much bigger than it was, the sound of you happy and passionate about something making him overjoyed despite his resting bitterness.

“Is it as magical as this?” He asks, holding out his palm and creating a burst of mini fireworks in his hand.

“Loki I don’t mean literally magical. I mean more figuratively speaking. It’s their most romantic time of the year, that’s why they feel it’s magical.” You explain briefly, smiling with a blush at the sparks of colour in his hand. You go to push down his hand and as your body moves ever so slightly, you’re facing each other, truly eye to eye for the very first time in so long, the literal and figurative sparks flying around you.

Tis the damn season, write this down

I’m staying at my parents’ house

Loki takes careful action, reaching up and brushing his thumb over your bottom lip slowly, teasingly. He cups your face there, the thrill of feeling your skin on his skin sending a small rush of adrenaline through his cold veins as he pulls you in. You don’t protest, letting him lure you back as you’d once so feared but in the moment, couldn’t one bit imagine why.

He waits a moment for the protest that doesn’t come before leaning in and brushing his lips on yours, first gently but rushing into needy rather quickly. He kisses you passionately, his tongue soon slipping in your mouth when you grant it entry and pulling you along with him, hidden around the corner of the balcony safely while the two of you ‘properly’ re-greet each other.

“Stop… stop.” He says breathlessly, planting needy kisses along your face to cool down, only making you feel more wound up in the process.

“I must confess something before we continue.” He says, still in his daze of the moment. You nod, not sure what you can say, all thoughts sucked from your mind the moment your lips met.

“I told your mother to ask you to come back for the celebration. I chose the outfit you are wearing right now and by the norns, I am glad I did because you are truly a vision but the point is, I deceived you to get you back here.” He says, the words flooding out of his mouth.

You let out a small snort, falling into a small fit of laughter. He looks completely bewildered, shocked by your reaction.

“Loki, you’re the god of mischief. I have loved you for far too long not to know this. Did you really think I wasn’t going to be the least bit suspicious when my mother asked, no, BEGGED me to come home for this day and made such a big deal out of it when she’s never really cared for it before?” You giggle as you go through your explanation.

“I knew this was your doing almost as soon as I received the invite. I was only slightly suspicious at first but then my mother visited me and begged me to come and I knew right away you had something to do with it.” You laugh and you get really confused as you see him grinning like a mad man. “what?”

“You said you love me.” He says, beaming with excitement. You blush scarlet in realization.

“I- no- that was not what I meant to say!” You stammer.

“Oh but it is what you said, I caught it. You still love me darling.” He smirks in a cocky manner and you sigh, not wanting to argue with him in such a nice moment.

“Yes alright… yes I love you. I have always and probably always will Loki.” You admit with a grin not nearly matching his own.

And the road not taken looks real good now

And it always leads to you in my hometown

“I love you too. Always have always will.” He promises, pressing another kiss on your forehead.

“I’ve missed you so much Loki. I tried to meet other people but… I really don’t know how to get over all we’ve had, even if I do like being on Midgard. Would you ever consider coming there with me?” You ask quietly, blinking up at him with eyes full of hope.

He stares back at you, taken aback by the question. Never once had he imagined such a question coming from you. Sure, he’d pondered the question himself many times but never from you, he imagined you would wish to lead a separate life from that which you’d shared. 

“My beloved… I am not sure that idea is the best one… those residents of Midgard surely remember my… faults. I am sure that many loath my existence. I could never live there, with you, risking your life and safety to their wrath. I am certain harm would come to one of us and if it were you… I could not forgive myself.” He frowns, holding your face in his hands.

“You’re an infamous trickster, surely you can mask your true identity from them.” You frown, your eyes glazed with unshed tears, your lip starting to wobble, staring down at the city you used to run around with Loki in. The strong memories were intoxicating to you both and you knew that.

I parked my car, right between the Methodist

And the school that used to be ours

“My love please do not cry, I so hate it when you cry. I did not say I would not find a way to make us work. If it is truly what you want, We will find a way. I promise you. I only said that me living on Midgard is not the best plan.” He explains with a promising smile as your hopeful gaze returns.

Where all these hopes were coming from, you honestly didn’t know. You were in a bad place with your feelings for Loki for a long time. There were times you wanted to come back to Asgard to strangle him and others where you wanted to come back to hug him tight and never let go.

You were at peace with your feelings for him prior to the return. But now, you realized feelings so unresolved and so strong weren’t going away so easily. It was so strong you couldn’t in good conscience ignore him or ignore them. They needed to be revived or put to rest, but you were having a harder time than ever deciding which was the answer.

“I hate that you make me feel like this.” You sigh, leaning into him.

He chuckles, pulling you in closer. “I am well aware, and yet I love it just as I love you.” He teases, kissing your forehead gently.

The chill of his fingers soothes you in a way, making you feel more at home than you imagined before your return. It was odd, you had never thought being in his arms again would feel the same. You thought you had matured enough to feel no such feelings if he ever laid a finger on you again but his touch is somehow making you feel like nothing had changed and like the past few years were completely frozen in time.

The holidays linger like bad perfume,

You can run but only so far

“This does not mean I wish to remain in Asgard Loki. I love you more than life itself but I stand by all that I’ve said thus far. I am your equal, not your lesser and you have to treat me like it and let me make my own decisions.” You warn, looking back at him, your posture slightly stronger and the confidence in your voice unwavering.

“I understand my love. And though I do not at all agree with your home of choice, I shall not interfere with your wishes again. I have learned what it is like to live in spite of you and I never wish to live in such a way again. I cannot bear to lose you over my own stupidity again Darling.” Loki vows, squeezing your hands in a sort of promise.

A year ago, you would have never believed the words coming from his mouth. You likely would have ran before he could speak even a sentence of all that he had said at this point. 

But you had definitely grown and you could tell Loki had too. His full blown anger seemed to have dissipated over time and you could hardly judge him if it hadn’t, having had a few meltdowns on the subject yourself over your time apart. 

The anger was no longer fresh, more like a plant, growing and growing until it slowly died and shriveled away.

Of course, you knew that this might be the worst idea either of you had ever had. Of course you knew it was risky and trivial. But you didn’t care as much. The change you saw in Loki now from the Loki you’d seen all that time ago was intense and it was all you’d hoped for.

“You know, you WILL have to come and stay at my place at least sometimes…” You teased, making him let out a dramatic sigh.

“Or you could come here and I could avoid all those Midgardians who absolutely loathe me…” He offers and you shake your head slowly, laughing as he pouts.

“It’s called compromise darling, you have to learn it eventually.” You tell him, sticking your tongue out as he groans even louder. 

The two of you remain giggling on the balcony for a large majority of the festivities, pointing out places on Asgard you hadn’t been in forever. Neither of you were certain of what the future may hold for your relationship and neither of you spoke about it, deciding that the love you shared in that moment was enough to last you a long while. At least for the celebration, you had no worries except each other. 

I escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave

But if it’s ok with you, it’s ok with me…

Title: Reunion

Pairing: Loki x Goddess!Reader

Summary: You were a goddess from the Greek pantheon and Loki’s former lover. Separated during the events of the first Thor movie and Loki’s initial supposed death, he learns you had given birth to his child during his time away. Initially disbelieving, his possessiveness for you finally brings him back to Midgard to take what is his. Story set somewhere after Thor: The Dark World, but before Avengers: Age of Ultron.

Notes: This started as just a prompt for Father’s Day back in June, and is more a “What If?” type spinoff from my main Loki x Goddess!Reader series still in progress. If you like the pairing though, you can check out more of that AU on my masterlist below. The daughter in this also remains unnamed as just like the reader, they’re yours to fill in the gaps how you will.

Warnings: Angst, self hatred, grief, but also eventual fluff/comfort.

My Masterlist

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The first time Loki had ever heard of the child’s existence, it had been from Thor. Clumsily blurted out, really only moments after the thunder god had just snatched Loki by the throat, pulling them both from the sky.

They’d plummeted from the humans’ aircraft to then argue on some rocky cliff face in the middle of the night. Just another instance in a long line of disagreements between them to be sure, but on that night it had all been about Loki’s right to rule Midgard through the aid of the Chitauri.

The god of mischief had laughed in his brother’s face as well, honestly laughed at the sheer absurdity and the perceived desperation he thought the Asgardians must now have to stop him. The lows and the lies they would stoop to just to try and delay or distract him from his goals.

Yet Thor had insisted it was real, that you hadn’t known you were with child. And that by the time you had known, it’d been too late. The bifrost had been destroyed, and Loki lost along with it as far as anyone had believed.

But Loki’s mind had still been clouded then as well, unable to see the obvious truth in Thor’s anger. The scepter, the tesseract…and Thanos, it had all trapped him, amplified the worst in him. And everything, all of it had soon spun into further nightmare.

Because only such a short time later, he’d found himself defeated and alone in the dungeons directly beneath the very palace he’d once called home.

Alone except for Frigga and her visits. But even a mother’s love couldn’t save him then. She had told him again that it was fact. That you had had a child in the time he’d been gone, and Loki had still argued with her. He so clearly remembered the hurt in her eyes as well as he’d asked her why she would even care about such a bastard creature even if it were all true.

Shamefully, that disgust had been his first real reaction as he’d finally started to believe her. Because he’d carried all that self hatred, the wound still so fresh of learning that he was never a part of the family he’d been raised by. And to him, it’d been a legitimate question then. Why should the queen of Asgard concern herself with a half frost giant, half Olympian and whatever crime against the natural order that could possibly be?

But in that calm way of hers, in that forgiving voice of hers which he now wished so often he could only hear one more time, Frigga had said, “I care because she is my grandchild, just as you are my son. As you always have been and always will be.”

And then she too was gone.

The days that followed after Frigga’s murder were also a blur, himself consumed back into that abyss of loss. He had lost his identity, his home, his freedom, and all semblances he’d ever known of love in quick succession.

But even if he hadn’t been imprisoned, even if time had allowed him to reconcile with you somewhere in between his suffering under Thanos’ Black Order and his quest for vengeance for Frigga, he would not have tried to find you.

Because he could not, for all the realms, imagine that you would still love him. You’d only fallen for a lie after all, a version of himself that had never truly existed. There had never been a Loki Odinson. He was only ever an unwanted runt. Laufey’s son, left on a frozen rock to die.

But in some sort of cosmic joke, he still drew breath then even as he still did now. After being cast out by the frost giants, then cast out from Asgard. After failing Thanos at the hands of the Avengers, after losing to the dark elves on Svartalfheim…it had been defeat after defeat.

Yet through it all he’d kept crawling back out from the ashes, clawing towards eventual glory, towards glorious purpose.

And after his second “death” on Svartalfheim, he could have fled back into the universe, to anywhere. But the sentiments and the memories he had so often mocked Thor for, had still held too strong for him as well in the end.

He’d gone back to Asgard instead, back to his once home, and to the ghosts of his past there. Odin was only old and tired, then further weakened by the loss of Frigga. So Loki had mercifully relieved the old liar of that pain, that burden of the throne.

He’d placed the strongest magic he could upon his former father. He’d given Odin a new, conflict free identity and left him on Midgard, out of the way and out of his story at last.

Yet after the brief elation of such a long deserved victory, Loki’s thoughts had eventually turned back to what else he’d wanted when there was nothing more in Asgard to take. When those days had stretched longer one after another, himself alone again even among the adoration and respect he’d always most wanted.

So often as a youth, that final pinnacle of the throne had come with you alongside it in his mind’s eye. And with that kingship at last in hand, buried emotions had begun to resurface for the goddess who had once claimed to love him.

He didn’t care anymore if you would only see him as a monster now. He’d wanted to win properly, fully. So he’d needed you back in Asgard. He’d wanted everything that was his. And if that now even included a bastard half breed of a child, then so be it.

With Thor away again, off fighting and trying to tame the realms back into submission, that is when Loki had decided to visit Midgard once more with his intentions for you in mind.

And like anything he did, he’d initially tried to be calculating. Once he’d found you, he’d wanted to know your new habits. The times you came and went, whether you were always alone or not. He’d wanted to have a plan.

He knew how to gather that information. Piecing together what little Thor and Frigga had already told him, the new name you went by, and then tricking a human public records servant to look up the rest on their electronic machines had been simple enough.

You now lived in a place called Pensacola, Florida. Right on the beach of course, to be expected for any offspring of Poseidon. You worked at some sort of hospital for sea creatures, taking the wounded, mending them, and releasing them back into the ocean. Also unsurprising, as you had always liked tending to broken things hadn’t you?

Though even then, the thought of you living and working alongside these petty humans had irked him. They did not deserve you. And in disguise of course, he’d passed your new home several times, walking back and forth on the sidewalk to see if this place should be considered worthy for a goddess, to see if you were there.

The dwelling the records had said you lived in was built high, but more like a one story home on stilts. The living area appeared to all be on the second story, with long wooden stairs leading up to it. He’d seen many structures built that way as he’d walked though, supposing it was for storms. If the sea were to angrily rise, the water could run beneath to spare damage to the main quarters.

Yet that was laughable as well for a woman who could control the tides on a whim. And he’d just been thinking if he should inspect the inside, when his stomach had abruptly tightened.

He’d heard your voice. A sound that had not met his ears since before Thor’s botched coronation and the ill fated battle at Jotunheim that followed. His head had whipped around to see you walking down the sidewalk toward him then. You were laughing, though not at him as you’d looked down at the small child whose hand you now held.

“So, today was macaroni day? That’s exciting.” You’d smiled. “And you colored too?”

The child had some piece of paper in their other hand, trying to hold it up to be seen.

“Is that Elsa? Or Anna?” You’d asked teasingly.

“Elsa!” The little girl had exclaimed.

His breath had hitched in his chest at the sight. He had wanted to see you of course, he’d come here expressly for this very reason. But he didn’t expect the sudden, unique pain. He didn’t expect at all how it would actually feel.

You were a goddess. His goddess. He knew you would look the very same as you always had, it’d only been a little over three years now that the two of you had been apart. The light and warmth of yours that he’d held in his arms so many nights before, of course that had not changed.

But seeing you together then, you with what he now knew as his own child. Happy, playful…suddenly all he’d wanted to do was leave and never return. Because he couldn’t ruin this. What right did he really have to even be here? The girl wouldn’t know who he was. And if she did see his face, wouldn’t it only frighten her? Was she yet old enough to have seen replayed footage of the battle of New York on those human machines?

In the end, wasn’t he only the horned devil who’d opened the portal to unleash those alien hordes onto the streets of her world before the Avengers had stopped him? A monster is all he was. Not even standing there on behalf of love in that moment, but of possessive pride and arrogance.

To his further surprise though, he’d also felt that foreign wetness starting in his eyes just as the two of you had walked right past him on the sidewalk. Humans were riding up and down on bicycles, walking their dogs. To you he was just anyone else as you’d only paused nearer the bottom of the stairs to your home. He’d seen you reaching into your pocket with your free hand, pulling out a set of keys before you’d picked the child up into your arms to carry her up the stairs.

And as you’d held her, her head was then positioned over your shoulder. She’d looked back towards the street just by chance. And for only a moment, he’d made eye contact with her.

He could see himself in her features, he could see you as well. Her human looking skin tone may only be an illusion, so much like his own. But it didn’t matter. He knew she was worth protecting instantaneously then as they’d briefly locked eyes. How could he have ever thought anything less?

By the time you’d gone inside and the door had clicked shut, he was glad though as he couldn’t stifle the sound that then left him as his face contorted.

He had truly been the worst kind of fool.

—————————

A few days later

It was late Friday night, which you were glad for as this week had seemed particularly long. At the wildlife center it’d just been one crisis after another. Pelicans swallowing fish hooks, turtles swallowing plastic, even a young dolphin that’d been struck by a boat propellor.

If more humans could see on a day to day basis the kind of damage their carelessness caused, you really did think they’d at least try to change their ways for the better. They weren’t all inherently cruel in your mind, just terribly short sighted. It took real work to make them see any larger picture.

But, at least some were trying. Your coworkers among them, who were also pleasantly shocked this month when your facility had received another generous grant from Stark Industries for new equipment. Your friends had tried to ask you several times what on Earth your connection to that man was. And you’d just had to smile and say Tony Stark must enjoy a good tax write off.

In reality it was more Thor who you owed for that initial connection. The thunder god did drop in from time to time to check on his “favorite” and as you often pointed out, only niece. Thor had insisted from the beginning that you and your daughter live somewhere safe. And with Asgardian riches meaning little on Midgard, he’d gone to his fellow Avenger Iron Man requesting favors for you in exchange for Thor’s work consistently done in protecting this realm.

To your surprise though, Tony had actually taken a very hands on approach. He’d met you personally several times even in the beginning, though he still insisted on calling you Ariel. Which only much later you fully understood the joke of with your daughter’s growing penchant for those musical cartoons.

But Tony had bought this house. And his girlfriend Pepper had found you that job and the best daycare. But their gifts you still didn’t take for free either. Their world was your home too. And when they needed your help to fight back any new threat, they also knew exactly where to find you. You were now in Nick Fury’s files just like all the others. And they had and would call on you when necessary.

“Mommy!”

You looked over, seeing her holding up that tablet, which now had a spinning icon where whatever video she was watching had been. “Baby, it’s late. It’s just buffering. But screen time should have been over half an hour ago anyway.”

You used to tell her that the internet ran out after a certain time of night, but she was getting a little too smart for that now as you just extended your hand. “Come on, give it up. Go brush your teeth.”

You’d like to think that the strong headedness you were starting to see in her was only from her father’s side. But in reality, you could only imagine how many times you’d given that same pouty look to your own father before she did finally relinquish her precious tablet.

You quickly plugged it in, purposefully out of reach on the kitchen island before you went to help her get ready for bed.

It took a while, as always of course. So much bargaining. Could she have just one more cup of water? No, she didn’t want to sleep with this toy, it had to be that toy that you hadn’t seen for a week. Then digging through her toybox to find it, then it was the ceiling fan needs to be on. No it’s blowing on me, it needs to be off.

Mommy, leave the door cracked. No, leave it shut. Mommy, can you put the sounds on? No, not the water sounds, the thunder! Mommy, you’re sure there’s nothing in the closet?

It was just amazing how quickly someone so small could become a master of stall tactics when they really wanted to be.

By the time you were sure that she was finally asleep, her sound machine then going with her bedroom door shut, you probably should have been asleep yourself. But there was also something to be said for getting a rare moment alone.

You’d changed out of your work clothes at last, now just in underwear and a long t-shirt as you went back to the kitchen. You’d left only the overhead stove light on. And with the beach house’s open floor plan, it was enough to cast a dim light into the living room as well as you’d grabbed a bottle of wine off the counter, considering the label.

One of your coworkers had recommended this brand to try. You’d planned to pour just a bit into a glass and then go turn on one of those streaming shows in the living room that they’d also told you about. It wouldn’t have been a terrible way to wind down the night.

You’d opened one of the kitchen cupboards to pull out said wine glass, but the cupboard doors had a glass face themselves. And just as you’d begun to shut it, that’s when you caught the silhouette of a man reflected in black behind you.

The wine glass shattered as you released it to the floor. Yourself then whirling your body around, with your metal spear materializing into your hands even as the figure in the seemingly tailored black suit caught the weapon just as quickly in his own overly strong grip.

The silver of your spear still glinted in the low fluorescent light. The intruder’s pale hand enclosed around the side of it, having just stopped the deadly tip from reaching his throat.

But he said nothing at first, those familiar blue eyes just meeting the widening, horrified expression in your own gaze as recognition took hold of you.

You had never fainted in your life that you could remember, but you’d never felt closer to it either than you did in that very moment. Because it could notbe.

“You must have been told that I was dead once more,” Loki finally broke the silence though, realizing your truly stunned reaction could mean nothing else.

And it did sound like a voice from beyond the grave. The god you had loved for so very long. But he’d left you. He’d thrown all of it away to chase madness, to chase power and vengeance. He’d left you alone with only the memory of him, mourning him all the while raising a girl who would never even know her own father.

He must have still seen that heavy disbelief in your eyes though as he spoke quietly again after a few more moments. “I’m no imposter if that’s what you’re thinking…” But he looked thoughtful for a moment before continuing. “It is me, my goddess. Not a ghost, not an illusion…not a nightmare. Your mind would be too strong for such games regardless. Our connection would be too intimate to fabricate…don’t you know your lover when you see him?”

The tone, the stance, it was perfect. That was true. But you were not so arrogant as to think there would be no being capable of deceiving you to this scale.

In your shock it was difficult to think of proper questions though, even as you tried, your voice sounding embarrassingly weak. “Then, when and where was the last time we were together? What did you promise me then?”

He did seem to consider for only a moment, but with an expression that changed little before he answered. “You think I would forget sneaking you back into my quarters on Asgard that night before Thor’s coronation? And how long we made love over and over as you tried to both console me from that event’s sheer insult as well as dissuade me from letting the frost giants into Odin’s vault to disrupt it?”

But there was a hint of a tragic kind of humor in his eyes as he only continued. “I promised you I was in control. That no one would get hurt…that it’d all be fine. The coronation would be delayed and it’d be something we could just laugh about when I next came back to Midgard for you…”

But you never had seen him after. You’d returned home, and the next you’d known all the Olympians were buzzing that there had been a coup in Asgard. You were not allowed back then. You’d never been back since.

It might be true that a powerful psychic could still pull those little details from you though. But what were the odds that any psychic creature that skilled would also be so equally adept at shape shifting? To perfect his body, his voice as well…no, somehow in your heart you knew this was not deception. Even if a trick may have hurt far less.

And as that equally amazing yet horrible realization continued to settle over you, you finally began to lower your spear with one hand. But simultaneously your other palm just met the side of his face before you could stop yourself, with a slap that echoed through the room almost as loud as his brother’s thunder.

And you could see that equally familiar little flare of anger and surprise in his eyes as he turned his face back to look at you after the hit. The redness and beginnings of a bruise already starting to form on his pale cheek from the sheer force of it.

But you did not strike him again. Your eyes were already blurring then as the first tears formed, and you could soon feel them edging out down the sides of your face. Emotion drawn from a well of sadness you had thought would one day run dry. But it never did. You lived of course, you smiled and laughed even after he had been gone. But the mourning did not ever really leave you.

It could be in the middle of the day, anywhere, doing anything when a thought of him would cross your mind and that pit would swallow you whole all over again. You’d had to process his death twice already. And what being in any realm, of any status, deserved to go through that more than once with the one that they truly loved?

But his eyes were still on you as you saw his brief anger fade to confusion, and then…was it actually something closer to regret?

Your spear just clattered to the floor alongside the broken glass as you felt Loki’s arms wrap abruptly around you. That same grip that had held you for more nights than you could now count.

“I should have come sooner…you did not deserve this.”He said then, his voice sounding odd at last as if he may now be struggling to keep it even himself.

“Youleftus,” You breathed harshly in return though, pulling back enough to look at him again with your now reddening eyes.

But you could see the sadness in his own face even more now, clearer then in a way that both only wounded and frustrated you further. It would have been easier honestly if you could make yourself hate him. If he could stand there just looking as arrogant and pompous as everyone else always thought that he was.

But here, right now as he held you in some insufficient attempt at comfort, he only looked near as broken as you.

And you couldn’t help it. Even though it made no sense, even though you should just be screaming at him, demanding explanations and apologies…you’d missed him so much. You had wanted him back so badly, more than you’d ever wanted anything else before.

And here he was. The Fates knowing more than you ever could as he escaped death once again. You moved forward before you even consciously decided to, and you were kissing him then through the tears. Your lips against his. And even after all that had happened, all that he had done, he still tasted just the same.

But he only pressed into it as well, just as hard, opening his mouth to taste you soon enough as if the two of you had never stopped.

There was a desperation more than you’d ever felt however. That sadness, anger, and hurt overflowing still even as you pushed him so his back was now against the kitchen island. You felt him widen the stance of his legs, letting you in between them as his hands moved roughly to your hips.

He hadn’t forgotten you. No, it was then that you knew that he’d never stopped wanting you either. But why then? Why did he let you think over and over that he was dead? Why did he put you through all of this!?

And as you finally broke the heated kiss to look at him again, both of you then a literal mess standing here in this modern mortal kitchen with shards of glass and your spear made by Hephaestus himself on the floor beneath you, you also knew that there would be no sleep had tonight.

You needed…no, you deservedanswers.

—————————

The broken glass had been cleaned up and your weapon put back away, all lights now turned off as you’d opened the blinds in the living room to let the moonlight in from off the beach instead.

You felt like your hands might be trying to shake slightly though, and after another moment’s thought you opened one of the windows slightly as well. That salt smell and cool sea air drifting in with the sound of the waves. It was a comfort and added bit of strength you felt you needed then as you rounded back to the couch.

And Loki just sat there waiting for you in the dark. Maddeningly elegant looking again in the moonlight, one leg crossed over the other and his eyes never leaving you.

You sat down on the couch with him as well, but with a little distance still. You felt like you hadn’t let out all of your pent up anger yet. But you knew that wouldn’t get you anywhere either.

“So how long have you been watching us?” Is what you finally asked. Knowing full well that him finally revealing himself to you again wouldn’t have been a spur of the moment decision on his part. To sneak in here so easily, he had to have learned the surroundings some time before now.

“Not long. Only this week,” He answered plainly though.

“Why?” You responded a little tersely, but not looking back at him. You felt the more you would look at him, the more your memories returned and the less objective you could be.

“I needed to see you.” He just gave another short answer.

“But you didn’t before?” You countered, knowing how long it’d already been since the convergence and everything Thor had said Loki had given his life for on Svartalfheim. Where had the god of mischief really been since then? What had he been doing?

He gave a kind of half sigh, and you felt him shift on the couch. “I didn’t come here to antagonize you. I swear to that. But I had to deal with Odin first before I could move forward with anything else in my life. And now that is finally done.”

“What?” You did look reflexively back to him at the mention of the Allfather and all the additional dire implications that could possibly mean. You knew Loki too well to think for a moment that anything between he and Odin right now could possibly have a peaceful ending. But he didn’t respond back right away, only frustrating you further. “Loki…if you’re still keeping secrets, this isn’t…it’s not going to work.”

Your feelings were already too raw, you couldn’t handle those old games right now.

But you only saw an odd look come into his eyes, it wasn’t sly or condescending by any means. Closer to a flicker of more desperation if anything before he spoke to you again.

“If I trust you, then you have to do the same in return. Of course I can tell you everything that’s happened since I escaped death on Svartalfheim. But I’m not ready to deal with my brother’s judgements just yet about my dealings with Odin. This must stay between us for now.”

Yet you still stiffened, aware of everything Thor had already done for you in Loki’s absence. And knowing that the only real confidants you had left in the mortal realm were now in the Avengers. Letting yourself become beholden to Loki once more, jeopardizing the life you’d made for you and your daughter here….it was a lot to ask. “You’ve got a lot of nerve giving me stipulations on anything right now, you understand that right?”

He smirked just a little, the first hint of one you’d seen since his arrival. But it still looked all too regretful. “Take the truth…I’ll tell it. That’s all I can offer you. Then whatever you feel -or don’t- for me afterward, I can do nothing but accept it. But I want you to show me the truth as well. I want to see the time I’ve missed. I want to know what I’ve cost us.” He continued quietly though, as you felt his hand graze yours as you held onto the couch. You hadn’t sat far enough away after all.

You knew what he was really asking for then. He wanted to take the shortcut of looking directly into your memories, which he could only do through physical touch. But all your emotion, all the pain, everything would be there, hot and searing as if it was happening again in real time.

But he needed to feel it too didn’t he? You did want him to, even as much as you knew you weren’t ready to relive any of it yourself. No, you couldn’t overthink this, or else you might lose your nerve as you answered. “Then get it over with please. Look into my mind…but before the morning comes you’re going to tell me why you did what you did as well. I can’t just let all that go, Loki. Even for you…”

“I know.” Was all he responded though. Yet there was a heaviness to it as he watched you finally move closer and he raised his open hand in front of you.

You knew what you had to do as you took a breath before bowing your head slightly, nearly touching it against his hand before he moved in to close the rest of the distance.

You felt the tension in him, the last bit of hesitation before his fingers gripped firmly upon your scalp. You tried to steel yourself as well before the gates opened up. But no one could, not to that kind of force as in only another instant it was like a switch had been flipped inside your brain. A hit akin to a bomb going off inside your consciousness as he forced his way in.

The invasiveness was painful enough on its own, but you didn’t fight as he pulled those last few years of memories rapidly to the surface. And it was all only the truth as the scenes flashed by faster and faster.

The night you’d first been in denial, learning the news that he had turned on his own family. Everyone just telling you that he had gone mad. And you arguing, even fighting to try and escape to go to him as your father Poseidon with the help of your brothers had locked you all in your family’s palace in the depths of the sea.

Zeus had commanded that no Olympian be allowed to interfere in Asgard’s battle for succession to the throne. And under penalty of death you’d had to wait and agonize, not knowing who would come out alive. Waiting for any bit of information, confused and frightened how this could even be before word finally came that Odin had retained the throne. Loki had been defeated.

But somehow when they’d eventually said that Loki had died, it was made even worse when the story had started to twist towards suicide. Because they’d told you he hadn’t been slain in battle at all, that he’d let go of the bifrost. He’d chosen to die as he’d fallen into the void.

That was what you’d been made to believe over and over, by so many who had of course never approved of your mixed race coupling with him to begin with. Some had even mocked you then too for the seeming realization that his pride and desire for the throne had been the only thing he couldn’t live without in the end. The only thing he appeared to truly love in the end.

But your depression, and the mourning that followed only became more complex as you’d realized his equally cruel parting gift. A pregnancy that kept you feeling sick and weak for months as your body had constantly tried to reject the foreign entity inside it. And the added stress of your father only hoping that the unborn would actually die so you could return to the fold and close that embarrassing chapter for your whole family at last.

Only your mother queen Amphitrite and your sister Rhode had not turned their backs on you during your difficult pregnancy. Helping you still hunt, still eat and defend yourself, yourself otherwise alone and exiled to the ocean’s most remote places before the child finally came.

But as you’d feared, the baby couldn’t even breathe underwater. You’d had to return to the surface just to keep her alive. That screaming, blue skinned child that you’d had no idea how to take care of at the time. The girl not truly Jotun, but not of your kind either, something trapped in between.

She could not survive the depths of the sea, nor was her foreign blood allowed on Olympus. So you’d had to finally give up your royal life in the oceans for good to raise her on land among the mortals.

But not long after had come the shock that Loki was still alive. Yet only starting that cycle of heartbreak all over again for you as you’d just had to watch on a human television as the man you’d loved unleashed a foreign army to wreak havoc in the very realm you were then attempting to safely raise his own daughter in. There had been so much anger and additional confusion within you at that new layer of betrayal.

But even when he had been defeated and imprisoned, you’d still begged to be able to see him. Even if he’d forsaken you, you desired to have some sort of closure at least. But Odin had refused your requests time and time again. Yes, the bifrost had also still been broken then, but you and the Allfather both knew there were other ways to cross the realms if he would only let you.

But Odin considered your child illegitimate, and insisted that neither of you had any rights in Asgard. There was no sense of goodwill to help you either when his anger and desire to further punish Loki was something insurmountable at the time. Only Frigga had reached out to you via the ravens, wanting to know as much about the girl she considered her grandchild as she could.

You had still retained hope however. In Frigga’s letters she had promised that Odin would eventually soften. She believed the Allfather’s disappointment and great hurt at Loki’s actions were being unfairly projected onto you and your daughter. But she saw it as temporary. She encouraged you to stay strong.

You had almost started to believe her too, before your world crashed to ashes all over again. Her letters had suddenly stopped. And one day, out the blue Thor had come to you with horrific new truth.

You’d been so relieved to see him for the most fleeting moment too, thinking maybe Frigga had sent him. That he may take you to visit Asgard at last, yourself briefly believing that Odin had finally relented. But it was not to be. Thor had instead come to tell you about the Queen’s murder and Loki’s self-sacrifice against the dark elves who had her blood on their hands. Frigga had been killed and Loki had avenged her. And even if not Asgardian by blood, Thor had been so adamant that Loki’s soul would have found Valhalla then.

And you’d cried in front of Thor that day, really cried in a way the you hadn’t allowed yourself with every set back before. You’d finally broken down as he’d held you, neither of you knowing what else to do. But he’d also promised you then that Loki’s daughter would never feel the pains you all had. He’d sworn that she would grow up safe on Midgard, happy. And with no other real choice, you had accepted his and Tony Stark’s eventual offer. This home, this life. You’d become an Avenger in order to protect her from worldly threats just like the attacks made by her own father, you’d-

As you felt Loki’s mind suddenly uncoil itself from your memories, you could also feel the new tears now running down your face again. You looked up at him, surprised that he’d broken the connection so soon.

But as you stared at him, you realized you weren’t the only one then in tears.

———————————

Loki blinked, that stinging wetness only growing stronger as he pulled his hand shakily back away from you.

He couldn’t take another moment. Every single thing you’d felt was as strong in his emotions now as if they’d come from within himself. And he’d had to stop when that final burst of your memories had showed that his own actions had pushed you right into being dependent on the very people he’d once most hated. You were now enlisted to fight against “villains” just like himself.

“You’re one of them,” He breathed, unable to stop that hint of accusation in his tone even as he only wanted to pull you back into his arms now.

You belonged to him. You were his goddess. But Tony goddamned Stark had provided you this home. His own mate and child were now indebted and even affectionate with that egotistical human.

It was irrational for him to feel this angry, some part of his logical mind still knew that of course. In none of your memories had he seen you take anyone else as a lover in any capacity. But the jealousy was so real, the many times Thor had now visited you as well. He’d seen that level of intimacy regardless, you’d needed them because you’d had no one else. And he hated it. The thought of you closer to them, trusting them now far more than himself.

But before you could argue the obvious that he had no right to criticize when he hadn’t been here to be your partner, when he’d left you with a fatherless child, he just took you around the waist regardless. He pulled you against him on the couch, his back leaning into the armrest and your chest now against his.

If you wanted to strike him again he didn’t care as he spoke unevenly, holding you tighter. “I never wanted this. You think I didn’t care about you, but that is not how it was. I was a lie! I was a lie Odin created, and I couldn’t accept it. Yes, I thought I had nothing left. Because I was a fool that believed you could only hate me as much as I hated myself…”

But he’d seen your mind, making it all the more heartbreaking with the truth that his being a frost giant had barely even registered in your important or painful memories. Because you truly did not care. You’d just wanted him back, in any way or form.

Your only anger towards him had been for being abandoned, for being left in the dark, not understanding his violence and his selfishness in these recent years. Your thinking that he now only cared more about conquering realms than he did about loving you or protecting his own child.

“I promised to tell you everything, and I will. But know I never would have hurt you. I never would have let the Chitauri touch you or the girl. I just wanted some kind of control back in my life. Even if I’d won then, I would have come back to you eventually. You’re all I have left…” And he only felt the slightest relief when you didn’t argue, when you didn’t berate him in all the ways he knew he still deserved, your warmth actually just settling further against his chest as he then laid his chin atop your head.

“I love you, I never stopped.” You did finally speak though, as he felt you reaching up to still wipe at your own eyes. “Don’t forget that again.”

He closed his eyes a moment, the pain of those words so real, but even he couldn’t deny them when he knew it was the truth. “Only actual death could ever separate me from you again, goddess.” He promised back. “I have so much to make amends to you for, but I’m here now. And I will not waste this chance if you’ll have me…”

He felt you shift, and as he opened his eyes again he could see you looking up at him once more. The simple touch of your soft hand then against his hair had him taking another breath before your lips met his again.

The physical comfort was so needed, so necessary as he let the two of you sink further down onto the couch. He took greedily still, even after so many years together, he kissed you like his survival depended on it.

Because maybe it did.

After a little while longer though, he felt you move again, you pulling a blanket that had been messily on top the couch then down around you both.

Evidently this is where the two of you would be resting tonight.

But there were still many hours until morning, and you had demanded the truth. He would tell you too. There’d be no more secrets between you. Before sunrise, you would know about Thanos, about the scepter and the tesseract, and how he’d escaped.

He would tell you where Odin really was and how he’d taken back Asgard from the former king. He could only be at your mercy now though, hoping you would understand enough to let him handle this how he needed to. He wasn’t ready to confess to Thor, but all illusions must fall in the end. Eventually that time would come as well. But not yet.

Right now was only about repairing what he’d had with you. And beginning the new chapter with the child he’d yet to even meet. He had failed the girl to this point, but he could at least start to make amends now. To try and be the real father that he had so wished Odin would have been.

By morning all could begin anew. Even devils got second, or in his case even third or fourth chances it seemed. He could and would not let this slip away from him again.

——————————

(Planning to do a part 2 on this, but no ETA at the moment. Thank you for reading! )