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rassvetsky · 1 year

Note

hi! can i request a fluffy halloween fic with scott lang where he and reader does those couple costumes? 🫶 tysm!!!

i am literally in love with you for requesting this. my love for scott is beyond words and this is way too late and rushed but still pls feel free to request again whenever you'd like ily

88 Miles Per Hour

scott lang x reader

"Through costumes put together in a rush and water fights with resident trick-or-treaters, you found a moment of peace to memorize every single detail Scott held."

[2k] | just short & cute nothing worth warning u about except for. scott's beauty. obviously. halloween themes, feelings, kiiiinda friends to lovers but mostly just flirty banter, scott is a cutie and he deserves the world and i love him so much your honor

reblog and/or like for a kiss, feedback much appreciated! not proofread.

Time spent with Scott Lang felt like a whiplash- the dopamine high he tended to give you with his jokes and compliments could rival ecstasy. He wouldn't let you think about anything else; if life was stressing you out, he was definitely the man to go to because through the pointless conversations and intrusive DIY projects, his main priority was to make you feel good, safe and appreciated. And of course, to get you laughing so hard that you wouldn't even be able to remember what you were stressed out about in the first place.

But just like everything else, that went both ways. Scott didn't tend to show it when he was down, but through the decrease in energy, you could sense it. Hell, even from his tone through the line when you called him to ask him about his day- you'd immediately sense that something was wrong, and it needed to be fixed, immediately.

Because in your eyes, Scott deserved much better than what he already had in this life.

So when you showed up by his door with a bag of clothes picked specifically for Halloween and demanded a few hours of his time to prepare after a short call, of course he wasn't going to say no. It surprised you when he announced that he'd much rather stay at home for Halloween, knowing damn well that he was a sucker for the holiday. You didn't have time to ask him what he wanted to wear, since you were already sure that he'd say no if you offered to handle everything and force him out of his place; so an imposition was necessary.

Truth is, Scott didn't feel down. Not in a traditional sense, at the very least. But when you quite literally forced him out of his t-shirt to pull a vintage shirt on him and top it up with a lab coat, he couldn't hold back the bittersweet smile that took over his chiseled, beautiful features; the proximity making him feel all warm and fuzzy. When you rambled on about how you had to scramble everything at the last minute to pull off a Marty McFly and Doctor Brown outfit for the two of you, knowing damn well that he loved the movie, he felt nauseous with how deep his feelings laid within.

If only he could find a way to tell you.

He watched you as you took off your work shirt to change into a white check grid design short sleeve one, and pulled a denim vest on top, letting the signature red puffer vest lay on the couch for the moment before approaching him again with a grin. "The wig is a bit… Low quality, but we don't need anything more," you hummed, mostly to yourself, before pushing him by his shoulders to sit on the couch again- wig fitting materials already ready by the coffee table since you ordered him to go grab some of the stuff you missed earlier on. "Just don't move too much. Sit pretty."

"As long as you don't glue it down to my actual hair," he chuckled, watching as you shrugged nonchalantly.

"Not gonna glue much," you whispered, as if you were giving him a secret. "The lab goggles. They're gonna keep it in place- I feel like my genius is seriously under-rated…"

"It so is." he joined in, the top secret topic of the conversation hidden between your hushed, childish whispers as you giggled along, before you sat by his side and made him face you, slowly brushing his hair back. Your hold on his chin was so delicate that he could cry just by looking at you, and he probably would if that wouldn't make him seem like a complete idiot.

You made him feel things that he didn't even know he was capable of feeling.

And it wasn't anything new. Even back then, when everyone saw him as just another ex-convict, you saw a different light in him. Never discriminated against him, never said anything that could even slightly decrease the hope he had for the future. To you, he was the guy who would show up by your door with a bag of take-out that he bought with his last pocket money just so he could be sure that you weren't skipping meals. He was the guy who always knew just how to cheer you up, just how to hug you so well that all of your worries would disappear.

But then you'd hold him. Like he's this porcelain piece, afraid that he might break if you were any less gentle. You'd play with his hair and massage his scalp while telling him all about your dreams, and how he'd be there to join along. How you'd take him to Europe and then Oceania, then maybe Asia, and show him everything beautiful about this world.

You were so precious that he could feel his stomach filled to the brim with butterflies. Or moths. Big, fluffy, ugly moths that made him want to vibrate out of his body.

His bright eyes followed yours as you focused, carefully putting the short white wig on place and setting it down with the help of the goggles. He looked idiotic in an extremely endearing way that you couldn't help but coo, plopping down in between his arms a second later. "You're adorable."

"You're adorabler."

"That's not a word."

"But it's convenient," he hummed, pulling a chuckle out of you as you excitedly got back up.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute, Doc. Are you telling me that you built a time machine out of a DeLorean?" you quoted, rather dramatically, as he laughed along with you and reached for your red vest, so you could put it on and the two of you would get going.

"If my calculations are correct, when this baby hits 88 miles per hour, you're gonna see some serious shit."

You were so proud of yourself.

Firstly, for knowing Scott like the back of your hand. Second, for being the reason he was already out of that gloomy mood- singing along to whatever 2012 pop song was playing, with a bottle of beer he snatched from somebody's table and a small packet of chocolate truffles that he held between your linked arms, as you two walked around the busy streets. People were all dressed up, shiny decorations everywhere- yet through all that light, Scott's eyes shined the brightest.

And you figured that there's nothing in this world you wouldn't do to have those gorgeous green orbs shining that bright with excitement all the time, just like this.

Feet dragging you to a familiar route, you practically pulled him towards the park, filled with kids comparing their trick-or-treat victories and grown-ups trying to get some calming going. Plopping down on the cold grass with a relaxed sigh, you waited until he sat next to you with a grunt, before leaning back on your elbows. "That was fun. But please don't spray kids with water next time."

"It was mutual spraying, why are you trying to make me sound like the villain here?" he feigned innocence but you knew better, judging by the victorious grin he held on before giving the kids their water gun back. You shrugged, instead deciding to sit up again. The lightning didn't allow much through the trees but he had a mature, yet boyish type of beauty that you could appreciate even in the dark. His eyes met yours when he noticed how carefully you were staring at him, though he had to avert them- much to your dismay, as you slowly lifted your hand to trace your fingertips against the laugh lines right by the sides of his eyes.

It only took a gentle touch to get him to look at you again.

"You've got two tiny hazel dots on your right eye," you whispered, trying to hold back a smile upon his attempt of stealthily popping a truffle in his mouth. "The other one is greener, I think. I can't see well from this light but- it's pretty. Have I ever said that before?"

"You explain me to me approximately seven times a day."

"Stop being an ass," a soft snicker left both of you. "I'm trying to memorize you."

He almost gave in. Almost. "What for? You see me a lot."

"I don't see you enough." you shook your head to both sides. Was it the liquid courage or the festive season, you'd never know; but the way he was still smiling gave you all the green lights you could've asked for. "You started to grow some whites on your beard. That's also pretty." your fingers moved down to his slight stubble. "Suits you."

He didn't know what to say. He wasn't even sure if words could actually leave his mouth at that moment- so he just let you memorize him. Slowly. Centimeter by centimeter.

But he didn't expect you to just stare at his lips for a full minute, and then reach in to leave a quick peck on them. "And these- still as soft as I remember."

He let out a laugh at that. "We were drunk when that happened, though. Years ago, if I may add."

You shrugged, nonchalant. "It was the first thing I remembered the next morning though. And it was also so gross, God, you salivate a lot when you're drunk."

"You weren't complaining then," his tone was lingering on playfulness. "Can't believe I never kissed you after that to actually prove that I'm actually a better kisser."

"I have serious doubts."

"Do you?" he hummed. "You're a few inches from finding out."

Instead, you aimed for his cheek this time. Scott was content with just that, too, as he let his hand fall on top of yours on the grass, providing shelter from the cold. "Is it scary for you too?"

"Terrifying." he replied right away. "But- you know what? Doesn't matter. As long as I got you."

"Yeah. And- we can do whatever we want. We're unsupervised adults."

"We really should be supervised."

It was slow, from then on. In slow-motion, almost. Because neither of you were in a rush as you stole kisses from one another here and there, never feeling as if you had to put a name on it so quickly. You two were just… Each other's people. And meanwhile that wasn't even near being enough to carry the weight of the feelings you harbored for one another, it felt just right.

#scott lang x reader #scott lang x you #scott lang x y/n #scott lang fluff #scott lang drabble #scott lang blurb #scott lang oneshot #scott lang headcanon #scott lang fic #marvel x reader #marvel fic #marvel fluff #ant man x reader #ant man fluff #scott lang

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samdeancass · 1 year

Text

Requested by @jensen-ackles-girl

Pairing: Scott Lang x reader

Halloween 2022 Masterlist

Halloween Prompts

Halloween Event Rules

The Avengers Campus was in full Halloween mode; decorations hanging from anywhere they could be hung, people being scared left, right and centre and some of the heroes were even dressed up. Now that's a sight you never thought you'd see!

You were laughing and joking with Tony, coming up with a few surprises for the party you were throwing later when you noticed Scott standing alone at the bar, twiddling his thumbs. You excused yourself and headed over to him, walking behind the bar and grabbing two glasses before pouring some whiskey.

"Tell me, Scott. What's a handsome guy like you doing moping around at a bar surrounded by the heroes of New York on Halloween, hmm?" You pushed the glass over to Scott which he immediately grabbed and downed in one.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, Y/N. I think it just reminds me of all the things that I've missed out on with Cassie. Taking her trick or treating, helping her pick her costumes. It's just something that I've always wanted to do with her, celebrating my favourite holiday." You walked back around the bar and swung a comforting arm around his shoulders, placing a soft kiss to the top of his head.

"I know you've missed out on a lot, honey. But you've also got so much to look forward to: Helping her pick the costumes of her kids, taking your grandkids trick or treating and you'll get to teach Cassie all of the greatest scary movies that have ever been made." He chuckled and places both of his hands on yours resting on the bar, intwining your fingers.

"See, baby. Don't be sad about what could have happened in the past, think about what could happen in the future." Scott looked up into your eyes and smiled. "What would I do without you talking sense?" "You'd probably have ended up back inside, or dead. Both are quite probable."

He laughed again and brought you in for a kiss, his hands resting on your shoulders. You sighed and sunk into the kiss, a wave of happiness and love travelling through you.

"Y/N if you've finished snogging Scott's face off, there's some more decorations that need to be hung." You broke away from the kiss and groaned, shooting daggers at Tony across the room. "Dammit Tony! You always do this!"

You looked at Scott and gave him one last kiss. "Horror marathon at my place later, you're bringing the candy. Deal?" Scott smiled and nodded. "Deal."

Marvel Tags:

@redcoatgirl

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fandomnerd9602 · 5 months

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Scott pulls out a card…

Scott: is this your card?

Y/N: no

Scott: ok. Fine. is this your card?

Y/N: still no

Scott: how about this?

Wanda: (thinks) detka just admit that he had your card two minutes ago!

Y/N: (thinks) nah I wanna see how desperate he’s gonna get

Scott: I’m down to ten cards here! Which one is your card?!

#marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #marvel incorrect quotes #incorrect marvel quotes #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #the scarlet witch #scarlet witch #scott lang

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angelltheninth · 1 year

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Hey! Can I request how MCU characters would react to you getting injured on a mission? <3

Love me some protective Avengers.

Pairing: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Thor, Loki, Scott Lang, Kate Bishop, Peter Parker x Reader

Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, mission injuries, worry, protectiveness, mention of blood, soothing kisses, warm baths

A/N: My Marvel writing is taking some angsty turns lately.

Steve does everything he can to patch you up right away. Its something left over from war, is he doesn't help you now he feels like he might not get the chance to. Even if the injury is small he will bandage you up himself before carrying you over to the medical wing of S.H.I.E.L.D and waiting in the room with you for the doctors to look you over.

Bucky holds you against him during the ride back, never taking his eyes off your injury, pressing his hand over it despite the blood. He's had plenty of blood on his hands, he never wanted yours. Stays up all night with you and is on your beck end call.

Sam swoops you up and flies you to the nearest hospital, asking for doctors as soon as he's inside. He's not calm, he can't be when you're breathing so heavily in his arms. Before the doctors take you away he presses a long, hard kiss to your forehead. When you wake up he's by the bedside, smiling at you, holding your hand, with a bag of your favorite snacks on the little table next to your bed.

Natasha can patch you up by herself, she's had to do it for herself, for her sisters, for her friends. So why can't she stop her hands from shaking now? When you smile up at her, strained as it might be, she feels a weight lift off her shoulders. Your smile is everything to her, everything.

Clint blames himself for not reacting fast enough to get you to the medical wing before you passed out. He was on edge the whole time while the doctors were looking you over, bouncing from foot to foot. You feel his lips against your forehead when you start to wake back up. A few cracked ribs, you're gonna have to sit out some missions from now on. But don't worry, he'll kick some extra ass just for you.

Thor makes sure that your enemies eat dirt and blood before he takes you to his bedroom and calls the doctors over. Don't even tell him that you're fine when he can clearly see you're in pain. Hates not being able to do anything but walk around the room, sparks flying from him due to how nervous he is. He'd like nothing more then to hug you tight and kiss you all over to make sure you're okay, that would hurt you so he settles for holding your hands while you sleep beside him.

Loki doesn't know healing magic, not yet. If anything will get him to learn it its seeing you groaning in pain. He's being pretty rude to the doctors, yelling about how they better fix you or nothing and no one will be able to fix them when he's done, just like the sorry bastards who did this to you. When the doctors are gone he goes in for a kiss only for you to stop him and tell him to go and say sorry, otherwise he's not getting a kiss from you.

Scott has a medical kit in his pocket but for more severe injuries he takes you to the hospital. He makes sure that you're never alone and if he falls asleep he leaves his ants to watch over you. Because he doesn't want to leave you the ants are running all over the house, fetching you what ever you might need while he does things like help you clean your wound or help you change clothes. It saves time.

Kate freaks out at first. As she is still new to being a hero she can't help but be beside herself when you go down. You tell her that its just some bruises and that you'll be fine but it does little to ease her nerves. What makes her freak out more though is you taking off your shirt and telling her to inspect the injuries. If she could stop staring at your half naked body she might be able to do as you said.

Peter prepares you a bath and runs out to get your favorite food while you're being patched up at S.H.I.E.L.D and then brought to your place. You don't expect him so he nearly gets hurt by you. Its a little funny initially but he quickly goes back to being the worried and doting boyfriend. Can't go an hour without kissing you and asking if you're in pain or if you need something.

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oneofstarkskids · 1 month

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this has to be perfect!

fluffy birthday fic

*not my gif*

bucky didn't like to celebrate his birthday. all those years in and out of cryo, he just felt like it didn't mean much anymore. besides, he didn't need some crazy celebration. all he wanted was you.

but that didn't stop you from planning a surprise party. sam was in on it too of course. "do i get to do the message on the cake?" he asked a little too enthusiastically.

"absolutely not," you gave him a stern look. "but it'd be a big help if you put the helium in those balloons." you waved towards the big helium tank. sam smirked and got to work immediately.

it was a full proof plan. all you had to do was make sure bucky didn't suspect a thing.

bucky had received a text the night before as the two of you were lying on the couch. "steve wants to go for a run and get a coffee in the morning." he said.

you nodded and tried to hide your smile, "really? that's great! you should go!"

yup. totally not suspicious.

you kissed him before he left the next morning and made sure to wish him a happy birthday. you ignored the eye roll he gave you.

and you were running out of time. "okay people," you clapped your hands. "sam, don't forget the ribbons on the ends of those balloons."

steve had kept him busy for a couple of hours, but he'd already sent you a couple texts about bucky wanting to get back. he was officially running out of excuses.

sam only nodded in response which made you arch a brow, but your attention was quickly diverted when scott knocked over the pile of presents. "sorry!" you ran over to help him pick them up.

"i was just making the card and i didn't know if i should write 'happy birthday, buddy' or just 'happy birthday dude', cause you know...we don't know each other that well and i don't want him to feel awkward-" he began to ramble but was quickly interrupted by nat who tapped you on the shoulder.

you turned to her and she shrugged, "record players not working." your face dropped, "no no no no! please," you ran over to it and tried to clean it, turn it off and back on, whatever you could do. "this has to be perfect!" you begged the device.

"is this a bad time?" a sokovian accent asked softly. you looked over at wanda, who was wearing an apron that read 'my kitchen my rules', with a dispirited expression.

you could tell she had bad news so you waited to hear it. she grimaced, "the cake batter is taking a little longer to brown than expected."

you nodded and pursed your lips.

"that's fine! i'm sure steve can keep him busy for a little longer" you tried to keep it together, but then you heard keys turning in the door.

SHIT!

you waved everyone back to their stations and rushed to the door. you pushed your way through it, causing bucky and steve to take a step back. "bucky!" you said excitedly, but he could tell you were on edge.

you wrapped your arms around his neck and at first it was to keep him distracted out there, but suddenly you just melted. it turned out a hug was exactly what you needed.

you were finally able to take a deep breath. you pulled away from him and grabbed his hand with a smile. "come with me," you said before leading him into the apartment.

"surprise!" everyone shouted. sam didn't notice the two of you walking in, so he turned around late and yelled out a very high pitched, "surprise!"

you couldn't help but laugh.

bucky was smiling too as he looked around the room, but he turned to you with confusion etched across his features. "what's all this about?"

"it's your birthday!" you said as if it was obvious.

"i know, i just mean...you didn't have to go through the trouble. it's just a birthday," he shook his head.

your heart ached for the man who'd been through lifetimes of pain, "james. listen to me. i love you and celebrating the day that you were born is important to me, because i couldn't imagine life without you."

his grinned and looked into your eyes sincerely, "i love you too, doll."

and for a moment it was as if you were the only ones in that apartment, face to face and full of joy.

until scott walked over, "sorry if i'm ruining a moment or something. just wanted to give you this," he winked. he handed bucky a card with a hand drawn portrait of himself and bucky side hugging.

at the top it read, "happy birthday bestie!"

#bucky #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #marvel #mcu #avengers #fanfiction #marvel fluff #fluff #bucky barnes #bucky barnes is 107 #bucky barnes birthday #comfort #scott lang #sam wilson #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #steve rogers

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writtenfangirl · 11 months

Text

Tomorrow

Steve Rogers Fic

I wrote this fic because Chris Evans was declared People's Magazine World's Sexiest Man and it's been a year. I can't believe I only got around to finishing it now.

Y/N’s home could only really be called a villains lair.

It’s high cavernous walls; the gothic spires that towered over the lot; the human-sized gargoyles that lined the dark roof; and the dark exterior cut an imposing figure against the backdrop of the grey sky meeting the even greyer sea. It was perched high above a cliff, carved into the very stone of the mountain.

The frigid salty wind that bellowed from the sea had rain slapping against Steve’s suit, darkening it’s blue leather. He hated the miserable weather, the dark grey sky and the pelting rain reminded Steve of memories of the war that he would rather sooner forget.

But right now, he couldn’t care less.

His feet slapped against the gravel, taking him up to the foyer of Y/N’s home. The large oak doors of her home were slammed shut and Steve found his hands rapping against the wood. He could almost imagine the sound echoing around the cavernous house, up towards Y/N’s room.

Steve knew Y/N didn’t get many visitors and so his presence was an anomaly to her.

She had a sordid reputation after all, one that had her painted as an enemy of the Avengers.

But right now, Steve didn’t care about that.

In fact, all Steve could care about right now was Y/N.

“Y/N, open up!” He banged against the solid doors once again, his body a live wire of buzzing energy and adrenaline begging to be released.

He was met with silence.

The rain was beginning to pelt harder against his body, the wind howling in the distance. The storm was a big one, the biggest of the year if the news was right. Worry and panic seized Steve the moment he heard, his heart thrumming loudly in his throat. Y/N didn’t live in the friendliest of environments and though he knew she would loathe Steve for caring about her, he couldn’t help it.

“Y/N!”

Still no response.

He could break down the door. She’d hate him for sure but she’d always hated him. At least this way, he knew she was okay.

“Y/N, I swear—“

“Rogers?”

Her voice had been swallowed by the wind and if it wasn’t for his exceptional hearing, Steve wouldn’t have heard her lovely voice.

The relief that seized him nearly had his knees buckling to the ground. He spun, meeting Y/N’s E/C eyes, wide with surprised and confusion. Despite the hard sleets of rain that continued to rain down, she was perfectly dry, not a strand of hair out of place. Her face was perfectly made up, her lips painted a beautiful red, rouge streaking her cheeks. She looked wonderful and alive.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Y/N didn’t sound as furious as she usually did, simply confused. As if seeing Steve standing in her front door had stunned her to silence.

Steve didn’t care. He reached for her, relieved to find her hard and solid beneath her hands and not some ghostly apparition.

“There’s a storm,” Steve panted, eyes locking to Y/N’s own E/C ones, “biggest of the year. I-I thought… I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Her eyes fluttered in surprise. “You… you wanted to see if I was okay?”

Steve nodded, unabashed. He was glad to see that she was fine and there was no hiding the relief that had him straightening.

He knew he wasn’t suppose to care about her. She was the villain and he was a hero. He was suppose to hate her, capture her right now for whatever nefarious scheme she was no doubt plotting to take down the Avengers.

But he didn’t care about that right now.

He didn’t care about their roles and he certainly didn’t care about what his teammates would say or what other people would say. Right now, all he cared about was her.

Y/N seemed to hesitate before she pushed past him and opened her heavy front door as easily as if it was made of plastic.

A roaring fire was raging in the hearth of her living room, the smell of cookies baking in the oven like an invitation to Steve, begging him to enter through the threshold.

“Why don’t you come in?” Y/N said softly, waiting by the opened door. “Maybe wait for the storm to settle before you leave?”

Steve looked down at his sodden clothes, at the fat drops of water that dripped to the floor. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I might ruin your furniture.”

Y/N stretched out her hand towards him, her fingers hovering above his face. A strange warm sensation enveloped Steve, like a blanket had suddenly been wrapped around his shoulders. Steve looked down, his clothes suddenly dried. His hair, that was once plastered on his forehead, was now dry and fluffy and not a drop of water splashed on his shoes. In fact, even the puddle that had steadily gathered around his feet had been wiped cleaned, lightening the once dark wood. Magic was strange but there was no denying its benefits.

“Come on in.” Y/N stepped aside, her face impassive.

Despite racing here upon learning of the raging storm, Steve hesitated now. He’d never been inside of Y/N’s home and though their relationship was more or less antagonistic, it felt strange to have her invite him to her sanctuary. He felt like an intruder, rifling through Y/N’s innermost secrets in the hope of gleaning information to use against her in their next confrontation.

Thunder rumbled loudly above their heads followed by a flash of lightning that briefly illuminated Y/N’s features. She was peering at him through her lashes, her lips pursed as if she herself was unsure she should let Steve in. He wondered if she’d turn him away now.

Instead, she further leaned into the door, opening the entrance even wider. “I don’t bite. Well, I don’t bite hard. So come on in before I magic you into a deep sleep and you can have Stark kiss you awake.”

The smell of cookies continued to waft through the opened door and that was enough to convince Steve to get in.

He felt warm almost immediately, the chill that had previously gripped him suddenly chased away by the magic in the atmosphere. The smell of melted butter further saturated his nose, the warm fire raging in the living room permanently removing the chill of the outside world.

“Shoes off,” Y/N said as she removed her own shoes, placing it neatly on the shoe rack by the door.

Steve followed suit, desperately trying to remove the feeling of awkwardness that seized him.

Y/N walked into her home, not bothering to wait for Steve to follow her.

Despite the imposing exterior of Y/N’s home, the interior told a different story. It was warm and inviting, the walls painted a rich green and covered with beautiful paintings. Red velvet furniture was scattered all about the space, the most notable being the large floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that covered the right side of the room. It was filled with books and different sculptures decorated the empty spaces. There was even a medieval suit of armor between the shelves. There was a staircase to the left, leading to what Steve could only assume was the bedrooms. A lush carpet was laid before him, covering the whole expanse of the room.

Steve followed Y/N, who’d walked through the a door next to the fireplace.

The smell of baking cookies intensified, causing Steve’s mouth to water. He’d always had a bit of a sweet tooth and even now, in the presence of his enemy, he couldn’t deny the pang of cravings.

Y/N led them to a modern kitchen, one that was vastly different from the living room they’d just left. There was a kitchen island in middle with white leather seats lining the side and even a breakfast nook big enough for eight people towards the right. There was a TV on the farthest wall of the nook, turned off and quiet. The panels of the countertops were a gleaming marble, the walls painted a pretty light blue. There were two refrigerators, wide enough to fit at least two people inside and no doubt fully stocked with cooking ingredients and snacks. One of the counters was occupied by an espresso machine, as fully stocked as a busy cafe with equipment Steve didn’t know the name of scattered around the side. The stove was set on the other side, with eight burners set against shiny metal. There were two ovens below it, one of it lit and where no doubt the smell of baking cookies came from. There was a bookshelf to the side below the TV, filled with different cookbooks and some in languages Steve couldn’t understand. While the living room was warm and slightly dark, the kitchen was all light, the walls covered in windows that let in plenty of light even with the dark grey sky.

“I’m sorry for the mess. I wasn’t expecting guests,” Y/N said, the words coming out almost stiffly. An apron magically appeared around her waist and she got around to continuing whatever it was she was doing before Steve got here.

In truth, Steve wasn’t sure where the mess was. The kitchen was clean and pristine without even a speck of dust floating in the air. He wasn’t sure what to say so he stayed silent, his eyes roving around the space.

“Anything you prefer to drink?” Y/N said just as the oven dinged. She pulled open the door of the oven and with the use of her powers, telekinetically moved the hot tray of cookies towards the kitchen isle. “I make a mean cup of coffee. Or if you want some chocolate or tea, I can make those for you too.”

“Coffee sounds great,” Steve said with a slight smile, pushing aside the awkwardness. It was strange, he thought, that the only pieces of conversation Steve ever had with Y/N was when he’d captured her or when she was monologuing her villainous plans or when she was behind bars and was too tired to escape, choosing instead to make idle conversation with Steve.

“You can take a seat, you know,” Y/N gestured at one of the stool in the kitchen island and Steve watched in wonder as what seemed like invisible hands pulled the stool, giving him space to take a seat.

Steve didn’t even hesitate. He took a seat on the stool and silently watched as Y/N used her powers to move the cookies to a cooling rack. An almost white glow seemed to envelop the cookies as they slowly moved from one tray to the next. She moved assuredly, her eyes trained in concentration in the task before her. “How do you like your coffee, Rogers?”

Steve paused, a little surprised by the question but he wasn’t really sure why. She’d already offered to make it for him. Why should he be surprised that she would make it to his liking? “To be honest, I’m not sure.”

At that, she stopped. Her eyes snapped to his face, her brows furrowing in confusion. “You don’t know what kind of coffee you like?”

“Well back then our only option was black. No cream or sugar because of the war. There’s all these options now and I’ve never really got around to exploring them before.”

With the way Y/N stared at him, it was a miracle a hole hadn’t burned through his forehead.

“Why don’t I make you my go to coffee order so you can give it a try? You aren’t allergic to anything, right?”

“I’ll have whatever you’ll have. I was allergic to whole bunch of things before the serum but I’m not anymore.”

Y/N simply nodded silently before walking towards the espresso machine and grabbing ingredients from one of the massive fridges. Cartons of milks and bottles of syrups flying out of the fridge in a neat conga line, swaying this way and that.

“I’m a little surprised you didn’t know that I wasn’t allergic to anything,” Steve said, his words trailing off. Y/N was smart, a certifiable genius who could wield magic more effectively than Steven Strange. She wasn’t nearly as powerful as Wanda but there was no denying that she’d give the Scarlet Witch a run for her money if the situation called for it. Steve had expected that Y/N would learn everything there was to know about the Avengers, especially since they were her enemy.

“I did know you weren’t currently allergic to anything,” Y/N said, her words almost indecipherable over the loud din of the brewing espresso. “It would have been rude of me not to ask so I did.”

Oh.

Well, Y/N was nothing if not impeccably well mannered.

She turned to him then, her gaze pure unbendable steel as her eyes locked to his. “Steve, what are you really doing here? I haven’t done anything remotely villainous for the past few months.”

“I told you, the storm.” Even his words sounded feeble in his ears.

“You expect me to believe that you came all this way to, what, protect me from the hurricane? My house is reinforced by magic, Rogers. Nothing can harm me while I’m in here. Not rain, snow, tsunamis, earthquakes or hellfire. And I know you know that. And if what your saying is true and you wanted to warn me about the storm, I’m suppose to suddenly believe that you, what, care about me? So why are you really here?”

The urge to tell her that he really did care about her fought its way out of his throat, scratching and biting and screaming as he struggled to push it back to whatever box it crawled out of. Feeling anything but antagonism for Y/N was a recipe for disaster, one that had the word DOOM spelled out all over it.

The truth is, they were two very different people. Or, at least, Steve desperately hoped that they were different.

He was a good person. He didn’t need a super soldier serum to tell him that he was a good person.

But calling Y/N a villain wouldn’t have been fair to her.

She was so much more.

When it came to Y/N, the lines were always blurred. Even when she did terrible things like murder people, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel bad for any of the people she’d killed because they themselves were monsters. And when she did good, it was far better than any goodness Steve had done in his life. Y/N had been known to heal children sick with cancer, permanently purging their diseases from their bodies. She’d helped protect rape victims and domestic abuse survivors by giving them protective charms.

But because of her methods, because she’d never been afraid to kill and hurt in order to achieve her goals, she’d been labeled a villain.

Her personality changes were enough to give Steve whiplash.

Still, Steve couldn’t deny the obvious attraction between them.

The first time the Avengers had captured her, she had been in a gleeful mood. Almost manic. She’d succeeded in assassinating a high profile senator who was running for the presidency and while his profile was clean cut on the outside, his assassination broke the news that he wasn’t as good as he claimed to be. He’d profited off of a sex-trafficking ring, selling girls as young as 4 to shady buyers looking for slaves. There’d been signs of torture and mutilation on his body and with the way his blood drenched Y/N from head to toe, it was clear she’d felt no remorse for what she’d done.

Steve almost didn’t want to arrest Y/N then and in truth, a part of him had been relieved when she’d escaped her cell. The whole team had silently agreed to not answer any of their phones when she’d initially escaped. Even Nick Fury had agreed to put his phone on silent.

After a week, Y/N was sighted in Madripoor freeing the captured women. The lives of a thousand women in exchange for one horrible, greedy man didn’t seem like a hard exchange in Steve’s eyes. When the Avengers finally arrived on the scene after several pitstops involving coffee, donuts and ice cream, Y/N went with them willingly only after she confirmed that the women would be fine, giving each of them a protective charm that helped them sleep better at night despite the traumas they’d endured.

After that, she’d stretched out her arms, ready for the power-dampening handcuffs that Tony had designed specifically for her. She’d done with an almost gleeful smile on her face, humming an unfamiliar song. Despite the soot, the blood and bruises that marred her pretty face, she was the image of pure contentment.

“Don’t even think of escaping, Y/L/N,” Tony had said as she clasped the manacles around her wrist, the technology whirring to life with a little beep. “With these little guys around your wrist, you can’t use a single iota of your powers.”

She’d smirked at Tony then. “Very bold of you to assume I need magic to escape.”

Steve and Natasha had taken it upon themselves to escort her to her prison cell with the rest of the team staying behind to ensure that all the freed women would be okay.

“You know, I’m almost rooting for you,” Natasha said with a wry smile.

“Almost?” Y/N asked incredulously.

“Scratch that. I am rooting for you.”

Y/N smirked. “I’m a huge fan of yours, too you know. It’s not everyone who can defeat a giant purple alien hellbent on destroying half the universe’s population.”

“What can we say? All in a day’s work.”

“I hope there isn’t any hard feelings between us when I do eventually escape from these restraints.”

“That’s going to depend on how hard you hit us.”

“I’ll try not to throw a punch.”

Y/N eyed Steve on her right, who had been quiet during the whole exchange. “He looks sturdy though. I’m sure I can take both of you in a fight even with my hands tied behind my back. Well, with my hands tied in my front, rather.”

She did manage to escape that time.

One moment she was sitting at the back of the Quinjet, the very image of regality and the next, the manacles were off her hands, with the Quinjet’s hangar opened as she jumped out of it, the whole interaction happening before either Steve or Natasha had even unbuckled their seat belts.

Neither Steve nor Natasha were eager to run after her.

The second time the Avengers captured her, Y/N had paid a visit to a suave businessman who’s whole appeal was his efforts to Go Green!

As it turns out, the only green he was after was money.

Y/N had leaked the news, telling the world about how the businessman’s green message had been nothing but a sham. He’d burned down whole forests to cultivate land in order to create cocaine that he could serve to the masses, exploiting young boys by turning them into dealers and addicts.

Y/N had leaked the story to the press, telling the world about how the businessman’s whole green message was nothing but a lie. Not only was he burning whole forests down to fuel his greed, he’d been doing it to plant cocaine plants, enough to get the whole northern hemisphere high on his supply. It was lucrative business and he’d exploited young boys by forcing them to work in the factory, forcing them to get high to keep them subservient to him.

She’d gone after the businessman first, sending a message to the world that his hypocrisy wouldn’t be tolerated. She hanged him, dangled his body over the side of his company’s skyscraper in New York then proceeded to free the boys stuck in his factories around the world before cutting down the cocaine farms and replanting new trees.

With the businessman’s shady dealings all over the world, it had been difficult to track down where she’d strike next. Not that the Avengers were actually eager to capture her.

Strangely enough, Bruce would find himself immensely hungry before they had to fly to wherever in the world Y/N was in and it didn’t do well not to feed the Hulk.

They’d finally captured her in a tiny island off the coast of Mexico, the last of the businessman’s strongholds. She’d freed the boys, cured them for their addiction then cut down the cocaine plants. Then she sat down and waited for the Avengers to arrive.

“Took you guys long enough,” Y/N had said as Steve and Natasha walked towards her. She stood up, dusting off her pants.

“Scott drank a lot of orange juice on the way here. We had to make a lot of pitstops.”

Y/N frowned at them. “I distinctly remember that your jet had a restroom.”

“Plumbing was broken according to Tony,” Steve said with a shrug.

She made a noise of assent before she put up her arms. “Alright, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“Put your hands down. We aren’t going to cuff you.” Natasha led the way to the Quinjet where Scott Lang and Bruce Banner waited.

“Oh, pulling out the red carpet for me?” Y/N batted her eyelashes, almost flirtatiously. “You shouldn’t have.”

“If I had my way, you’d be in cuffs,” Steve huffed under his breath.

Y/N raised a challenging brow. “Not a fan of me, Steven?”

“I’m not a fan of anarchists,” Steve retorted.

“Anarchist,” she repeated with a pleased grin. “I like that. Never been called that one before.”

“Steve,” Nat said in a warning tone.

The group had already discussed the whole Y/N situation. While majority of the Avengers thought that while Y/N’s actions were brutal, ultimately, the end results and her intention was good. Even if it resulted in the death of one evil soul, none of the could deny that her actions ended up saving hundreds, if not thousands, of lives.

She may not have taken down a giant purple alien hell-bent on wiping out half of all living beings, no one could deny that her actions saved others.

Still, Steve didn’t exactly approve of her methods.

“Listen, I get it,” Y/N said as their group ascended up the Quinjet, occupying one of the empty seats and giving Bruce and Scott a greeting nod. “I’m not exactly conventional but sometimes, it takes breaking the system to help others. You can’t help the survivors if they were victimized by the very system created to protect them.”

“I’m just saying there are proper channels—“

“No there aren’t. There are no proper channels for people like them.”

Steve frowned. “Who, the oppressed?”

“No. Them. The rich and powerful bastards who constantly use their money and resources to take advantage of people. There is no justice when it comes to them.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” Y/N turned to Scott, who watching the exchange between her and Steve with rapt attention. “Lang, weren’t you imprisoned for grand larceny?”

“It was one time,” Scott sighed, “and I didn’t steal that money for myself. I gave it to the people most in need.”

“Right, and how many years did the CEO you stole from spend in jail for stealing from his employees?”

“None,” Scott replied, almost quietly.

She turned back to Steve. “See? The system is broken and sometimes the only way to make it work is to smash it completely to bits.”

He’d ignored her then and it didn’t take much effort for her to escape them.

“Oh daaarn,” Natasha said sarcastically as her hands pulled at the accelerator, taking them further and further away from where Y/N landed, “we can’t exactly turn back now. Might as well go get some ice cream while we’re at it.”

They met again after the death of a high-profile serial killer. Because the serial killer work in law enforcement, he got off easy and he was released after 10 years in prison despite the fact that he’d killed 23 families, roughly 100 or so people. No one was spared, not women or children or even babies.

When he got off, Y/N was there to make sure he never hurt anyone again.

“He could have changed!” Steve yelled, his voice bouncing around the Quinjet. He was alone with her this time, having rushed to the scene of the crime. “He could have become a better person.”

“He could have,” Y/N said quietly, her unblinking eyes trained on open sea in front of them. Steve wasn’t sure where he was flying the Quinjet but he’d be damned if he brought Y/N back to US soil. She’d be met with handcuffs as soon as she lands and it wasn’t Y/N he was worried about. Anyone who tries to arrest Y/N would end up in the hospital. “I’m not willing to take that chance.”

He glanced at her. Y/N’s face was passive, a stoic facade as hard as stone but her eyes were soft, the sadness and pain in her eyes unmistakable.

“When you can do the things I can,” she whispered, her voice so low, Steve strained to hear, “when you’re cursed with powers like I have, you have two choices. You can either lash out at the world or you can do something to fix it. Any person that man would have killed after he was released, their blood would have been on my hands.”

“You are not responsible for other people’s actions,” Steve said, his previous anger leaching from him.

“You’re right. But I am responsible for my own. Now where are you taking me? If you’re not entirely sure, you can drop me off in Australia. I have some business to attend to.”

“What business?”

“Not that you care but the leader of the Russian mafia is staying there for vacation. That man and his operation has killed hundreds of people. I’d like to pay him a visit. I can portal my way there but using the Quinjet means I have a few minutes to rest my eyes.”

The right thing to do would have been to bring Y/N back to the States to answer for her crimes. Instead, Steve turned the plane around and headed to Australia. And as Y/N slept soundly, he ignored the vice-like grip of the anaconda that constricted itself around his heart.

They landed in Australia after a few hours and he watched as Y/N stretched her body against the seat. “That has to be the best sleep I’ve had since… well I hardly remember.”

“Go,” Steve said, his voice harsh. “Before I change my mind.”

But Y/N did no such thing. Instead she lounged against the seat as if it was her throne and she its lazy queen. “You know, when Natasha or even Tony let me go, I understand their motives. Tony doesn’t trust the legal system and Natasha could have been one of the women I saved in another life. But you? Don’t you have a stick up your ass the length of a stripper pole?”

Steve bristled at her words but kept his mouth shut. His eyes were narrowed into slits as he watched a wry smile pull her lips.

“So, what, Steve? What’s the play here? You really want me to kill this guy? Why are you letting me go?”

“There are a lot of people who deserve to go to jail. You aren’t one of them. What you do with your freedom, that’s up to you.” His words were the truth. She looked at him with an expression he couldn’t really place and for a single second, it was as if a silent agreement passed between them. But the moment was gone and Y/N conjured up a portal and sashayed away.

That was three months ago and any and calls Steve heard regarding Y/N, he’d ignored. He ignored her when Y/N went on a prison break binge, releasing small time drug offenders and helping cure them of their addiction; he’d ignored her when she’d leaked the financials of big pharmaceutical companies, causing their sales to tank and for the price of insulin to go down; he’d ignored her when she’d saved hundreds of women in another sex trafficking ring.

Except now, today. He’d heard reports from Nat, who decided to keep in touch with Y/N on the down low, on Y/N’s location and he ran here. Now she was looking at him with the most perplexed look on her face.

She turned, once again busying herself with making his coffee.

“I’m surprised you aren’t using magic to make the coffee,” Steve said.

She shrugged. “I like making it by hand. Reminds me of simpler times.”

She set the steaming mug of coffee in front of him before grabbing a small plate and setting a few pieces of the freshly baked cookie in front of him. The coffee was still hot enough to hurt his mouth but Steve didn’t hesitate to take a sip. He’d had worse injuries than a burnt tongue.

The coffee was delicious. It was sweet, sweeter than he was used to but still delicious. The cookie, on the other hand, was something else entirely. He half suspected that maybe Y/N had sprinkled some kind of magic potion on the cookie because it was the best damn cookie he’d had in his life. The outside of the cookie was soft but the inside was gooey, the butter saturating through every nook and cranny. It melted on his tongue, the dark bitter chocolate and sweet butterscotch encased in a tango of flavor that danced on his tongue.

He briefly wondered if it would be polite to ask Y/N if he could bring home the entire tray.

“Good?” She asked, taking a sip of her own cup.

“This is the best cookie I’ve had in my life.”

She smiled at that. “Thanks. It’s an old recipe.”

Mundanity with Y/N was weird but strangely nice.

“So what are you really doing here, Steve?” Y/N asked as she took a seat in the stool next to him.

He took another sip of the coffee, buying himself some time. “To be honest, I’m not sure.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re not sure why you’re here? Radio silence from the Avengers for three months despite the crimes I committed and then all of a sudden, Steve Rogers grants me a house call.“

When she put it that way, he sounded ridiculous. But the words he’d spoken were the truth.

Instead, he shifted the subject. It was all he could to escape from Y/N’s scrutinizing gaze anyway.

“Right before we got to Australia, you said something,” Steve said the words slowly, hoping not to scare Y/N off by his line of questioning, “you said you were cursed by your powers?”

Steve had been mulling over her words for the better part of three months, taking it out like a precious pearl to examine on his quiet days. He couldn’t make heads or tails of it. All he knew was that her words were strange. Y/N was a gifted magic user and Stephen Strange had often commented at her adept ability at it. It took people years, centuries even, to gain the level of mastery Y/N had when it came to magic and yet she used as surely as she breathed.

Why would she refer to it as a curse?

Y/N raised a brow, almost in challenge. “You’re telling me the Avengers haven’t figured it out?”

Y/N usually spoke in riddles and though it always frustrated Steve, he was also incredibly patient and so his next words came out even. “Figured what out?”

“My powers. I thought Steven Strange would try to figure me out the moment I came on to the scene.”

“He tried. Well, still trying. It frustrates him, y’know. How he can’t find answers to you.”

She grinned at that. “Alright then, I’ll give you the answers to me. Then it’s up to you if you want to tell him or not.”

“Why do you think I’ll keep everything you say to myself?”

“Because you’re Steve Rogers. And you came here, to me, in the middle of the biggest storm of the year, to see if I was okay. I doubt the others know and I’m pretty positive you wouldn’t tell them. So whatever information I say here, right now, you’ll keep to yourself.”

She was right. Of course she was. Steve figured Y/N was rarely wrong about anything.

“Alright. Go ahead. How’d you get your powers?”

“I was cursed with it by a god.”

She said it so seriously, Steve struggled to figure out if she was telling the truth.

“Why do you say it’s a curse?”

“Well the god who cursed me said that as the years past, I will become the most powerful magic wielder to exist. My powers will magnify tenfold, twentyfold and one day, I will become so powerful, I’ll have the ability to take over entire universes. Problem with that is magic always comes with a price and mine is my conscience. Every time I use my powers, my conscience becomes blacker until finally, it becomes a void inside of me.”

“So when you use your powers—“

“A piece of me dies with it and is reborn into something I don’t recognize. It’s why I do what I do.”

Realization dawns on Steve. “You do your own twisted version of good to remind yourself you can be good.”

She gave him a wry smirk tinged with bitterness. “There’s no place for me in Heaven, Steve. Only Hell. But when I get down there, I’m taking as many as I can down with me. Assuming I can die, that is.”

“You’re immortal?” Steve said with a frown.

“Well, according to the god that cursed me, I will not age and I will never get sick. Though, I imagine that if I was stabbed through the heart and someone finds a way to stop me from using my powers to heal myself, I’d die just like any other human.”

She gave him a pointed look, one that Steve shifting in his seat uncomfortably.

“If you want to use my weaknesses against me, go right ahead, Rogers,” Y/N said nonchalantly before taking a slow sip of her coffee. “I’ll even stand still while you plunge a knife through my heart.”

“I don’t have any intention of killing you.” And it chilled Steve to the bone to find out how much he meant those words.

“Bummer.” And Y/N looked genuinely disappointed.

“Hey,” Steve said sharply. “Life is a gift. You shouldn’t—“

“Can it, Rogers. I don’t want to hear that right now,” Y/N said but there was no malice in her voice. She just sounded tired.

Fine. If she didn’t want to discuss it, Steve was more than willing to change the subject. “You never said why the god gave you your magic.”

Y/N let out a cynical chuckle. “He was in love with me.”

“What?” Steve asked, not quite believing her words.

“The god. He was in love with me. I turned him down. Repeatedly, might I add. He got so fed up by my rejection, he decided to curse me with immortality and power. He said that one day, when I get bored with my life, it will drive me to his arms. I intend to live forever without ever thinking of him again just to spite him. And when I gather enough power, I’ll kill him myself. He can take away my humanity but he can’t take away my hatred of him.”

Steve couldn’t stop his smile. Y/N’s story was sad, incredibly so. He couldn’t imagine the profound loneliness that stretched before her. Centuries, maybe even a millennia of isolation and solitariness to spite a vengeful god. But she’d succeed, Steve had no doubts about that. He couldn’t picture anyone squaring up with Y/N and coming out of it victorious on the other side.

“So, what do we do now, Steve?” Y/N said with a slight sigh.

“What do you mean?”

“Well you broke a boundary. We never explicitly said it but I think we both decided to keep each other at arms length. I’ve been chummy with Nat and Yelena up to a point but not you. Back in Australia, I think we both agreed that our relationship will be strictly professional, even if we never really said the words out loud. But now, you’re here. What do we do about that?”

“I don’t know.”

Y/N simply sighed before taking a sip of her coffee. “Every morning, when I wake up, I find myself looking for reasons to get out of bed.”

“What are you doing?” Steve said with a frown.

“I celebrated my 100th birthday last (birthday month). I love to read. When I get bored, I write poetry. I love music though I was never talented enough with it but I do have centuries to learn now so who, knows, I might start. I love art too. I’ve been everywhere in the world and yet I never fail to visit a museum to see their art. I like sad paintings. The kind that can bring people to tears.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

She looked at him like he was the biggest idiot in the world and the answer should have been obvious by now. But Steve knew how to look past the arrogant veneer and see the vulnerability that swam in her eyes. “I’m going to live forever, Steve. And even if I’ll always remember other people, I won’t always be remembered. I figured, it’d be nice if someone knew some things about me. The last person I knew from my old life, she recently died. As humans, we are the people we know. I want someone to know me, even a little.”

“I miss music from the 1940s,” Steve said, not even thinking about the words. “Sam and Nat have both been trying to update me about the music of the decade but nothing beats my music. I like wearing converse because it’s one of the few things that never changed since I woke from the ice. I don’t like the rain. It reminds me too much of the war. There’s a boxing gym I use to go to back in New York. I never had a chance to box before because I was always too sick but I use to accompany Bucky whenever he had a match. When I was injected by the serum, I never had a chance to go back and so when I woke up from the ice it was one of the first places I went to.”

“Was the gym still operational?”

“It’s a little run down but I make it work.”

She smiled at him and Steve tried to ignore the jolt of warmth that shot down his spine.

“Why are you telling me these things?” She asked, an eyebrow raised in question, a playful expression beginning to bloom from her face.

“Friends know things about each other.”

And then Y/N’s face lightened like the sun peeking from the clouds after a storm, all warmth and joy.

The rain. Steve hadn’t even realized it had stopped. He glanced at the window behind Y/N and saw that the day looked almost as bright as Y/N’s smile.

“You need to go, don’t you,” Y/B said a little wistfully.

“Yeah,” Steve said, a little wistful too. He finished the cup to the dregs letting its sweet flavor fill him up til he was sure he’d be able to taste it until he got home.

Y/N led them out of the kitchen and back to the living room before she opened the front door and let him out.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N,” Steve said as he pushed his sweaty hands into his pocket.

“You will?” She said, surprise laced in her voice.

“You said you struggle to find reasons to wake up in the morning. I’ll be a reason to. Friends do that, you know.”

“I know,” Y/N said but without her usual bravado. She looked almost roseate and Steve suddenly realized how strange it is that despite the fact that he’s seen her many times before, he never realized how pretty she was. As if a sudden burden had been lifted from her shoulders, making her look younger than actually was. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Steve.”

“See you tomorrow.”

And she closed the door.

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samwxlsxon · 1 year

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ant man quantumania poilers with no context

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thatmexisaurusrex · 7 months

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Just Sam and Bucky, reluctantly going on Scott's podcast for the fifth time.

#sambucky #the daily sambucky fluff diary #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky headcanons #domestic fluff #scott lang #my headcanons

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saltsicklover · 10 months

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I've Always Dreamt of You (Unknown Soulmate AU)

Part One: Blue

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3365

Rating: T

Warnings: Drinking, Swearing, mention of Blood, mention of Vomit, Mention of Character Death.

-- To be continued. I hope you enjoy! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list :) --

Disclaimer: I do not own Bucky Barnes, or anything related to Marvel within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

The way Icarus dreamt of flight doesn't even come close to rivaling the way I dream of him. I can still feel the touch of his hands on the cold of my skin, fingertips warming trails like tepid wax down the plains of my neck, dripping from the hallows of my collarbones and down my chest like a whisper.

He first came to me in glimpses, blurry and burned around the edges. Teasing my senses, never allowing me to catch more than just a piece or two before he faded away again, my heart leaping from my chest and jolting me awake. I guess, over all of these years, I still haven't been able to piece a full picture of him together in my mind.

He has been visiting my dreams since I was sixteen. He's always been there, in my mind's eye as I drift each night; his presence, his touch. Then, slow and treacherous, fragments started breaking through the darkness of my mind. Every image, sound, scrape of skin against mine seemed to disappear upon awaking, but as the years passed, they lingered like tart whiskey and the stench of cherry cigars.

I remember the first time I saw something I could recall about him for more than a few minutes upon waking; the color of his eyes, ocean salt blue and trench deep. I began seeing that color everywhere, in the depths of the sky and the cold water beneath my feet as I sat on the bank of the creek listening to the songs of sparrows.

The color was the only thing that stuck with me for three years; over the time I collected a list of items in the same color, pieces of him that snuck into the real world. Bluebells and feathers, trinkets from nature. I saw it in the jack of my playing cards and the paint of my neighbors truck. I felt like the color was surrounding me, and I welcomed it because I craved him, devouring each sliver I could find, worried that if I continued to let him slip through my fingers I'd never have a complete picture.

The next time I saw something I could remember, I was nineteen. Bloodied hands never left my brain. The image haunted me like an apparition. The way the crimson leaked down his palms made my stomach twist, queasy and aching. The way his veins bulged beneath his pale skin and the callouses marking themselves over experienced hands. The fact that his hands never quite matched each other, like they weren't both flesh and blood made my stomach turn.

I vomited the morning after that dream.

Today I am twenty six and the broken images of him still leak though my subconscious into my conscious mind, interrupting my work day. Sometimes I can smell the strong scent of his cologne in the air, or feel the brush of his fingertips on my skin, up and down my arm. I try to push all the thoughts away, turning back to the files set out on my desk. I scan over the lines again and again but none of the words seem to stick in my head and at this rate, if I can't finish payroll I'm screwed.

Yet, the only thing I can think of is the bit I saw of him last night, a new bit this time. The faintest five o'clock shadow surrounding desert rose brushed lips. I can almost remember him speaking to me, and the way his tongue would dart out of his mouth to run over his bottom lip, but all of the details are much too disjointed and blurry.

Most of the encounters I have of him are lovely. Going to sleep and dreaming of him, his hands, his touch, the feeling of occupying the same space; it feels like coming home. He never ages, and the changes that come are small, few and far between.

He seems to be a combination of both hell and heaven and I am painfully torn between them, the waking hours like hell with the inability to conjure up his image or the feeling of his presence, body pressed up against my own- but at night, whether it be called a dream or heaven, he is there in front of me, and I don't need to see him to know the way me soul yearns for him.

Lately, he has been coming in flashes- even while I am awake. I can see the the crinkle of skin around the corner of his eyes when he squints. I get hit with whiffs of cologne and the smell of conditioned leather. I feel a cold finger run it's way down the side of my arm, from shoulder to elbow; the whole ordeal making my hair stand on end, goosebumps encapsulating my skin.

The shrill ringing of the phone manages to pull me from my thoughts, I clear my throat before answering. "Hello, thank you for calling Charred Ambrosia, how can I help you?" I ask over the loud music that is rumbling through the walls. Seven in the evening on a Thursday night and people are already starting their weekend off at the bar, my bar.

"Hey, Scooter, is that you?" A smooth voice asks through the crackling of the land line. I grimace at the nickname but a smile still tugs at the corner of my lips. I've always hated the fact that I like the nickname, but I could never tell Scott that I do in fact like it- couldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing.

"Hello, Scott, yeah, it's me. What's up?" I question, pulling the coils of the phone cord through my fingers, letting each one of them bounce carefully through my fingertips.

"You keeping busy tonight, or do a few friends need to stop by to keep you company?" He jests, I can hear the joy leaking through the line. I roll my eyes, though he can't see.

"We are plenty busy, thank you very much. But I wouldn't say no to seeing you, or your friends, you know that," I inform him, closing the paperwork in front of me. I slap the pen on top of the files, creating a problem for future me.

"Happy to hear it, Scooter, because some new work friends and I are on the way over right now. You better be behind the bar when we get there!" The line goes dead and I can't help but laugh before setting down the receiver. I head out of the office and head back behind the bar, attempting to make myself as busy as possible as I wait for Scott and his buddies to get in.

After a handful of checked ID's and served drinks later, Scott comes barreling into the bar, his throng of friends in tow. They stick out against the regulars, their eyes too trained, movements calculated as they position themselves with their backs to the wall. Maybe old habits die hard, or maybe it's because they've come close to death one too many times not to play it overly safe; it's like their scapula's are drawn to the studs in the walls.

Scott pushes up to the bar, his mudslide iris's bleeding with light unbridled joy just as they always do. A wide smile adorns his face, cheeks beginning to go red. He slides himself into a barstool, the rest of his friends confining themselves to a booth against the far side of the bar.

"Hey Scotty, what can I get you?" I ask, running the towel in my hand over the counter in front of him. I try and return the smiles he gives me but I know it doesn't quite crest over my eyes. If Scott notices, he doesn't say anything.

"A round of tequila shots for the table, so that will be six please, Scooter," He taps his hands against the warn and scratched surface of the bar top as he speaks. I swear I have never seen Scott not fidget.

"If I counted right when you came in, there is only five of you," I chuckle, pulling the shot glasses out from underneath the bar. I line them up carefully before pulling out the salt to rim each glass. Scott furrows a brow at me before turning back to his group of friends to count. I can't help but laugh as he counts each of them on his fingers.

"Oh right!" He exclaims, turning back to face me, "Bucky isn't here yet, but he will be, so six shots please." I roll my eyes but rim one more shot glass with salt before putting a wedge of lime on each of them.

"Go sit with your friends, Scotty, I'll bring these over when they're ready," I inform him, shooing him away with a wave of my hand. He goes to protest but keeps quiet when I raise my eyebrows at him. He knows better than to challenge me, especially after all of our years of friendship. Scott wanders over to his friends and I pour each shot before placing them carefully on a tray. I pull the tray carefully from the bar before rounding the corner to their table.

"Good evening, gentleman and Wanda, how are we this evening?" I ask, a smile spreading over my lips. I have met only Wanda, which happened to be by complete accident when she came into the bar with her brother, Pietro, when they were still new in town. She came around a lot after his passing and we became friends somewhere between then and now.

I know of the men sitting with Scott, being that they are Avengers, but I haven't met them officially. The large blond sitting next to Scott cracks a shy smile, sending a look my way and the older man next to him shoots a knowing glance across the table towards Wanda. He earns a hard elbow to the ribs from the black man sitting on his other side. I pretend not to notice as I place the shots down in front of them.

"I'm Steve," The blond speaks as he looks up at me from his seat, "We've heard so much about you, from Scott, it's nice to finally meet you,"

"Hello Steve, it's nice to meet you as well. Thank you guys for coming in to visit little ol' me," I chuckle, tucking my tray under my arm. I lean into Scott's shoulder with my hip, bumping him playfully.

"Scooter, this is Clint, Sam, and you know Wanda," Scott introduces the rest of the group, each of them nodding and offering a kind smile.

"What brings you guys to this little hole-in-the-wall this evening?" I question, my eyes roaming around the table.

"Scott says you make the best drinks," Sam answers as he spins his shot carefully on the table.

"And we wanted to meet you! Sometimes it's nice to talk to normal people, you know?" Steve speaks and I can't help but laugh at his choice of words. Scott laughs too, tears beginning to form in the corners of his eyes.

"Normal people what's that supposed to mean?" I jest, looking Steve dead in the face. A blush beings to form under his collar, spreading up his neck and over his face quickly like a wildfire taking over.

"You know, civilians, not super people, just normal!" Steve tries to save the interaction but the blond next to him, Clint, shoves an elbow into his ribs again.

"Quit while you're ahead," He mutters, a grin pulling at the corners of his lips. Steve just slouches down a bit in his seat, trying to make himself disappear into the upholstery.

"Don't worry about it, I'm just fuckin' with you, that's all," I chide. The group erupts into laughter, and I can't help but feel grateful that Scott drug his friends here tonight. All of this is better than trying, and failing, to fill out paperwork. "Scotty told me you have another friend joining you this evening, is that right?"

"Yeah, Bucky should be here any moment," Sam informs me, checking his watch for good measure.

"Well, considering the fact that he is late, I think this shot here belongs to me," I pick up the glass carefully, taking the lime off the rim. "Shall we?" I ask and each person grabs a shot.

"To drinking with normal people!" Scott toasts, shooting a wink in my direction. A chuckle escapes my lips as I tap the bottom of my glass against the table before bringing it to my lips. I lick the salt off the rim quickly before taking the shot. The alcohol isn't as unpleasant as it could have been, but I hastily shove the lime into my mouth anyway.

"I don't think I'm meant for shots," Wanda grimaces, shaking her heads. Her body vibrates, goosebumps pilling over her skin as she shoves the shot glass away from her on the table.

"I don't blame you," Sam laughs, the sound full and rich coming from his lips. It makes me smile.

It's nice having actual joy radiating through the bar. More often than not, there is always someone here drinking away some sort of grief or thought they cannot outrun. Others are here to get into some trouble or someone else's bed for the night. Joy seems to be in short supply and I try and soak it in as Scotty and his friends laugh whole heartedly.

I let my eyes run around the group once more, the hodgepodge of personalities seem to coexist is a natural nature I've never seen from a group before. Each one seeming to compliment another, the group more tight knit than most I have ever seen. The pure definition of chosen family. When I zone back into the conversation, they are making bets of if their friend Bucky is even going to show.

"He is definitely coming," Steve assures the group, rubbing at the crease in his forehead. He looks tense, like he is trying to convince himself with his words.

"I doubt it. You know he never leaves his apartment," Sam counters.

"Shall I get another round?" I ask, placing each of the empty glasses on the tray. I am looking for an escape from what seems to be a tense conversation forming.

"Yeah, I'll come with you!" Scott smile, looking a little uneasy about the group conversation. We walk back to the bar, Scott following close behind me until I round the corner.

"Same thing? Shots? Or would you guys like something else?" I question, moving each of the empty glasses over to the sink. He orders beers on tap, the local stuff the team came to try. It's apple forward and sweet, pouring the drinks makes me wish I could have one myself.

"How have you been Scooter? How's your Dad?" Scott asks, plopping himself down one of the tall stools. He shoots me one of those looks, like he is trying to get into my head and dig around.

"Are you asking or is it just an opener for the question you really want to ask me?" I set two of the freshly poured drinks on the tray before grabbing another glass.

"Well, I do want to know how you and your Dad are. But I guess I'm really asking, how have you been lately? Any new dreams?" He doesn't quite meet my eyes at the last part, instead opting to look over my shoulder at the rows of liquor behind me. I curse under my breath, wishing my Father had never told Scott about my dreams in the first place.

"I am doing fine. Dad is still in prison, just where he was when you got out. You know that. But I do get letters and he assures me that he is doing well. He misses you." I tell him, working on the fifth drink. "I still have dreams. Lately, though, it feels like he is coming in flashes and feelings even while I'm awake. I can't shake the feeling of his fingertips on my skin," I shiver at the thought. My voice comes out somewhere between longing and desperate but Scott doesn't let his face faulter. "But I am all good, Scotty, I promise. I just wish I could figure out if there is something more significant here or if I am meant to be tortured by this phantom my whole life," I place the last drink on the tray, smiling sadly at Scott.

Scott leans across the bar, taking my hand with his. "You know if there was anything I could do, I would," He reassures me, his thumb running over my knuckles. "I know you don't want to talk about it anymore, and I said I wouldn't, but I'm sure if you came by the facility Bruce would run some tests-" I cut him off with a tight squeeze to his hand.

"Scott, I know you are concerned, and I really appreciate it, but," I shake my head at him, my hair falling into my face, "I am perfectly okay. I don't want to be poked and prodded just to find nothing. Plus, they are just dreams, very vivid dreams," I say in an attempt to sound convincing and I squeeze his hand for good measure, but I know he doesn't believe me. Hell, I don't believe myself.

He drops the whole thing and I pull my hand from his. "Lets get these over to your friends, huh?" I grab the tray and pull it carefully from the table. Scott nods at me, leading the way back to the corner of the bar where his friends sit. When the table comes into view, there is a large man sitting in the chair Scott was sitting in previously. His hair is dark, cut short around the sides but the top is longer, tousled back away from his face. A well worn leather jacket is slung over the back of his chair.

Scott scoots into the wrap around booth, sitting himself down next to Wanda. I move next to the mystery man, who no doubt is Bucky, the friend they have been waiting on. Scott is to my right. I Bucky's face is obscured by the tray of beers in my hand. I begin sliding each person at the table a beer, the honey colored liquid sloshing around in each of the glasses as they slide across the table.

I grab the last drink in my hand before tucking the tray under my arm. I turn to look at Bucky, a smile on my face- one that quickly melts into a look of surprise and absolute bewilderment when his eyes meet mine- no one else seems to notice the glint of recognition that flashes through his eyes and mine. The cool blue of his irises send a volt of electricity through me and the beer in my hand quickly slips from my grip, the glass shattering when it hits the floor.

That shade of blue- somewhere between cerulean and slate- hits me for the first time outside of my subconscious and the color is beyond entrancing. Everyone around us seems to jump and begin asking if everything is alright, but I am stuck in the depths of his eyes and the way they seem to glimmer in the low amber light of the bar.

He looks at me too, in a way no one has ever quite looked at me before; like he could see right past the flesh and blood of my being, straight into my soul. A small smile blooms over his lips, dusty rose and plump. I drag my bottom lip between my teeth as my eyes dart back up to his.

Scott grabs me around my upper arms, moving me a couple of steps back away from the broken glass that now decorates my floor with sharp slivers.

"Scooter, what the hell was that?" He asks me, stepping into my field of view, blocking Bucky and I's shared eye contact. "You look like you've seen a ghost!"

"More like a dream," I whisper, "Maybe a nightmare."

#bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x fem reader #avengers x reader #james buchanan barnes #marvel x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes soulmate au #james barnes soulmate au #bucky soulmate au #james bucky barnes #soulmate au #fluff #angst #angst with a happy ending #platonic! scott lang

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teenageheartthrob · 2 years

Text

I'm in Deep with This Girl (Bruce Banner x Reader)

Category: Fluff, tiny bit of angst

Ship: Bruce Banner x Reader

Trigger Warnings: Mention of attempted suicide (Bruce)

Summary: Bruce recalls how you met and got to where you are today.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: My baby boy Bruce does not get enough love and it makes me sad, he's one of my favourites in the MCU :( So I wrote something for him

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Bruce Banner had only three or four defining moments in his life that made him feel like he wasn’t himself, wasn’t a coward. That’s how he used to define himself- cowardly. A man much more likely to choose flight than fight. In his very scientific opinion, he would’ve been a much better person if he had of been born as someone other than himself.

As such, there has been many times when the doctor felt he wasn’t in control of his own life, not least because he had two consciousnesses occupying his mind, body and soul.

In Bruce’s mind, any time he wasn’t acting like himself, it was a good thing, except, of course, for the times Hulk felt mass destruction was in order. For the first few decades of his life, he was fully supportive of this philosophy. Little did he know, all it would take to begin to crumble this fragile mentality was a few short weeks with an unlikely source of happiness for the man.

...

The day Bruce finally decided to stick that damn gun down his throat rather than just staring at it, he was comforted by the thought that he would be doing…it, his way- not through Hulk’s recklessness or someone else’s means. Of course when Hulk spit Banner’s bullet straight back out, Bruce resigned himself to living a sub-standard life. One devoid of any real joy or passion, save for his work.

He knew the day Hulk first appeared in his life, he would never find love again. Not that he had really found requited love before. In high school, being the nerdy kid got him into more trouble than it was worth. Of course now he is successful and his bullies are struggling with their 9-5, minimum wage lives.

Bruce found himself laughing quietly over this thought as he, Thor and Scott walked down the streets surrounding Stark Tower. Scott, as per usual, was hungry and for the past week, had been trying desperately to convince anyone that would listen, to try a new Japanese restaurant that opened up nearby with him. The Asgardian god was intrigued by the promise of raw fish and a drink that Scott had assured him rivalled the quality of Asgardian mead.

Thor would later find out Scott Lang was simply a light-weight due to his constantly changing metabolism. This was a heartbreak the God of Thunder would not soon recover from.

It was a brisk morning in New York City when Bruce had overheard this conversation and decided he could use some air.

This was how he found himself walking the same route he did most days. Despite living in a tower with unlimited technology, one of the simple pleasures in Bruce’s day was a short walk to get coffee from his favourite hole-in-the-wall cafe. It made him feel normal, like he wasn’t sticking out like a big green thumb.

In order to reach the quaint location, Bruce had to pass by an establishment by the name of Murphy’s. Despite the implication, it was not an Irish pub. This usually made Bruce chuckle and as such, it stuck out in his brilliant mind, however this was not the only reason for its notability. Murphy’s was also where Bruce found his other simple pleasure in his otherwise stressful and frankly one-dimensional life.

You.

Each day he passed, Bruce snuck a look into the cafe to see if the girl who had caught his eye all those months ago was there. The first time he saw you, you were serving drinks to an older couple. You had obviously been working a few hours already. Your hair had fallen slightly out of place, meaning you were constantly brushing it out of your eyes, and your apron was covered in what he could only assume was powered sugar from the cakes in the cabinet of the shop.

Bruce looked up by chance. He noticed how tired you appeared, yet you still took the time to connect with your customers, smiling and laughing. Listening to them. Perhaps this was drew Bruce to you, your ability to listen instead of dominating the conservation, something he was not typically used to having himself.

Bruce watched you smile again at the couple as he walked on. He knew he was doomed from the minute the voice of the green giant himself uttered “pretty lady.”

...

Since then, his habit had become routine, and despite passing by a little later than usual, the doctor hoped you were still there.

Scott and Thor continued their quite frankly, childish, discussion about whether or not Thor could have taken down a T-Rex when Bruce’s eyes wandered to the cafe.

His heart dropped a little as his quick glance for you was unyielding.

“Banner, the insect does not believe I fought Hulk. Tell him about the Grand…Banner?” Thor spoke, trailing off when Bruce didn’t respond.

Shit. He’d been caught.

Thor stopped walking and followed Bruce’s gaze. Just his luck, you emerged from the kitchen as the Norse god realised what was happening.

A smile spread across the blond’s face. “She is a fine maiden, Banner.”

In response to Thor’s comment, a blush appeared on the shorter’s face. This was for two reasons. Firstly, because it was true. You were gorgeous and Bruce suddenly realised how stupid he was to think that you wouldn’t have someone at home waiting for you. Secondly, he realised how idiotic he’d been to even think that he had a chance with you.

Scott, who had finally realised he was walking alone, had quickly retreated back to the group and assessed the situation.

“Bruce, go talk to her. What’s the worst that can happen?” Lang suggested sincerely.

“I don’t know, you guys. I’m not that type of person.”

“Banner,” Thor said softly to his friend, “no reward ever comes from chances not taken.”

“What he said,” Scott concurred, “Go get her, buddy. We’ll see you at the tower later!”

The superhero quickly grabbed Thor’s arm and dragged him away, leaving Bruce outside the cafe wondering what to do.

In the end, Bruce decided he didn’t feel like being himself today.

It was a blur as he walked into Murphy’s. The sweet smell of caramel and coffee enveloped him, thankfully even in his panic-driven state, Bruce decided a table by the back wall was a safe choice.

At least that way he could see the whole room. It seemed some habits couldn’t be broken and he realised, that was in fact, the very thing that had gotten him where he was now.

He eyed off the other patrons as you came over to greet your new customer.

“Hi, welcome to Murphy’s. What can I get you?” Bruce realised he had to speak but the words were caught in his throat, you were even more beautiful up close. “Sir, are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine, I’m so sorry about that.” Bruce willed himself to take deep breaths. “I was actually wondering when your shift finishes. I was hoping that you’d maybe like to sit together and um, have a coffee possibly? Or not, considering it’s your whole job. Never mind, forget I asked.”

“I’d love to,” you interrupted Bruce’s rambling. He didn’t think it was possible but your smile grew even wider and he quickly discovered it was infectious.

“Wow, um, great! Sorry I’m just surprised.”

“I finish in 10 minutes. Can I get you something in the meantime?” You had asked him, heart fluttering.

“Oh, um, no thank you. But what’s your name if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Of course not. It’s Y/N L/N.”

‘Y/N,’ Bruce repeated in his mind, ‘beautiful.’

…

Bruce emerged from the memory as you changed your position in his lap. He had been reading to you, and knowing you would fall asleep, he had the pair of you wrapped in the warmest blankets he could find.

He started down at the unbelievable woman in his arms and placing a loving kiss to your hairline, reminisced about how he got so lucky.

…

From day one, you’d always managed to surprise him, the man of science who thought he knew his fair share about the world. And maybe that was why you worked so well together. You provided Bruce with the flare he felt his life was lacking. You were the spark he needed to re-ignite his passion for life.

Quickly after you’d agreed to have coffee with the doctor, Bruce realised he was about to have his first date with you, and as he’d already been proven to do, he rambled nervously. He was pleasantly taken-aback as later on, you recounted information he’d told you, back to him. Not only did you listen to him but you asked questions. You were genuinely interested in him and to take it one step further, you did something not many people dared to do with him, you sassed him.

“Save your breath, Banner,” you’d told him, “you’ve got me.”

In that moment, he thought maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t so bad to be Bruce Banner after all. But oh boy, there was two moments in the doctor’s life with you that surpassed those easily, making him feel like being Bruce Banner was the best thing he could ever be.

…

“I’m sorry, I’m probably not the guy you were expecting. It’s just that my friends told me to come and talk to you and well, here I am.”

“Bruce,” you started, “is it okay if I call you that?”

He nodded.

You knew who we was, of course you did, and you wanted to respect the title he’d worked so hard to get. Scribbling on a nearby napkin, you continued talking, happy with his consent.

“I’m really happy your friends told you to come in. Truth is, I’ve noticed you too, but I can’t exactly chase a man down the street in the middle of my shift,” you chuckled, sliding him the napkin. “I’m really sorry, I have to go. I’m not ghosting you I swear, this was really great. I just have a thing.”

Bruce took the napkin, feeling his heart sink a little. He never wanted the moment to end. “I understand.”

“I’m sorry, but there’s my number. Call me yeah? I know where you get your coffee if you don’t.”

Bruce, who was still in shock that you even wanted to see him again, simply smiled as you walked out of the cafe, offering him a final wave.

It’s usually a sign that it has been a good day for Bruce when he returns to the tower and Tony Stark asks him if he’s okay because he’s ‘smiling like a mad man.’

For a week Tony asked him that question, and from that day onwards, Tony knew the key to Banner’s good mood had something to do with you.

…

The second moment, Bruce remembered, was in his opinion, the best of his life so far. It was the night you told him about your feelings for him.

As he himself was falling asleep on the couch, book abandoned, he recalled how utterly stunning you were the night of Tony’s last fundraiser ball.

…

You had thought long and hard about your dress choice. You wanted to impress Bruce as this was the first time he would be seeing you in anything like this outfit. Not to mention that you’d also planned on taking things to the next level with him.

This was your seventh date and when he’d asked you to be his during date number three, you were over the moon. A month later and you were ready to say it, the thing you’d felt since your first date with the gorgeous doctor. The ‘L’ word.

Bruce, naturally, was oblivious to your feelings and was still reeling that you’d even said yes in the first place. But the moment he saw you in that stunning split-leg red dress, he felt his heart swell with pride. All these people in the room with their eyes on you and you were his. You chose him.

You quickly made your way over to your boyfriend, hiding in his arms and muttering that everyone was watching you.

He’d simply said ‘of course they are, look at you’ and kissed you so sweetly you thought you might swoon. You were sure your cheeks matched the colour of your dress.

You mingled with everyone for a while, talking with Dr. Cho about new medical technological advances, and Steve Rogers about the ‘good old days.’ Everyone was polite and accommodating, you realised you felt more at ease than you thought you would.

Across the room, Thor patted Banner’s back, smiling like a proud big brother, and secretly congratulating himself for being responsible for the connection between you two.

You managed to catch Bruce’s eye soon after and motioned to the bar, moving over after saying your goodbyes to Steve.

“Having a good time?” Your boyfriend asked you. He knew you sometimes struggled with new people and crowds.

“Yeah, I am,” you replied, holding his hand from the adjacent seat.

“I’m glad honey. Now let’s get you a drink and pretend I’m the man of your dreams,” Bruce chuckled nervously, it was a joke from a dinner you’d had a few weeks back.

As he flagged down the bartender, you realised this was your chance.

“I think you just might be, Doctor Banner.”

“Wait, what? Really?!” he questioned, trying to recover from choking on his own spit.

“Yes, Bruce,” you laughed softly. You placed a hand on his cheek and moved so your knees were touching, “In fact, I think I love you…”

You searched the brunet’s face for any signs of a reaction as he stared at you, mouth agape. Before you could apologise or ask if he was okay, you felt your lips being pulled against his.

You had never felt so much passion, let alone known Bruce was even capable of kissing like that.

“I love you too, Y/N, so much.”

…

You stirred and realised Bruce’s snoring was the cause of your rude awakening. He had shifted down the couch so that he was lying flat, with you still wrapped in his arms, ear to his chest.

“The only benefit of the other guy,” he’d once told you, “is that I can protect you from anything.”

You smiled to yourself as the words rang in your ears. Lifting your head, you placed a kiss on the doctor’s cheek.

“I love you,” you whispered before sleep took you again.

Despite you constantly reminding him of your love, over the coming months , Bruce would often experience doubt about why you were with him. You knew who he was and who he became when he hasn’t himself.

It had taken a long time for you to convince Bruce that Hulk made him a better person, he was not a seperate entity to be feared but a part of him, and that loving Bruce meant loving Hulk too. Hulk very much liked the sound of that and slowly came out to spend more time with ‘his Y/N.’

You trusted Bruce. He saw your demons as you saw his and you knew that was what likely made your relationship feel so effortless, so natural. You didn’t think of Hulk as a demon though, simply an extension of Bruce and it gave you more of him to love. Loving Bruce Banner was all you wanted to do for the rest of your life.

Bruce still passed by Murphy’s every day. But now, it was to get coffee from his girl.

And he knew he was the luckiest person in the world as you threw a kiss in with every cup.

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takenbypeter · 1 year

Text

From Pretend To Real

Scott Lang x reader (first Scott Lang fic woohoo!!”

Words: 1099

FLUFF BINGO

Scott’s not the jealous type. He’s not. In fact he thinks it’s a waste of time to be jealous. So why did he find himself on a Sunday night sitting on the avengers compound couch trying to block the image of you, (in that sparkling black dress that did your figure oh so well), hooked around Sam’s arm out of his head the whole night.

Honestly he wasn’t jealous, but rather more annoyed, is what he tried to convince himself. Just the timing from the get go was all wrong. This morning he was finally going to do it. He was finally going to confess to you that he may have…slight romantic feelings towards you. He wasn’t worried because honestly he had a feeling you felt the same way. I mean you two flirted constantly, at least he thought it was flirting. He was pretty sure it was flirting…great now he’s questioning himself. Either way, he was going to do it, but right as he was going to get the words out, here comes Bucky Barnes letting you both know that you were needed pronto.

The debrief was about going undercover as a couple to a fancy dinner party and gaining some intel.

It’s supposed to be a simple mission; get in, mingle, get info, then get out. The mission isn’t what’s bothering him, it’s the fact that you were partnered with someone else. You were partnered with Sam.

Sam’s a great guy, everyone loves Sam, but, when they first explained you were going on this mission, Scott automatically assumed that he’d be your partner, considering you two were usually paired together. But this time you weren’t.

Okay so maybe he was a tiny bit jealous. But can you blame him?

It only made it worse that he wasn’t there to see the night unfold and all he could do was have his mind run wild, imagining all sorts of things. He knows you can handle yourself but it’s just thoughts that’s killing him.

The night goes by.

Slowly.

It isn’t until midnight that he hears both of your voices back in the compound. He can hear you two chuckling as you enter the living area.

“Sounds like you two had a blast,” he points out, tone genuine.

“Honestly, yeah I surprisingly had a pretty fun night,” you shot a look towards Sam which didn’t go unnoticed by Scott. “Mission was successful but I’ll give you the details soon. Right now I need to get as far away from this uncomfortable dress as possible.”

“I’ll be waiting here,” he shouts after you, eyes not wanting to leave your frame even after you’ve turned the corner, out of sight.

The only thing that tore his eyes was the sound of a dish clanging against the counter followed by the word “S$&#!” Coming from the kitchen area.

He knew better than to bother the avenger he once battled with but curiosity got the better of him. Following the sound he popped into the kitchen, acting normal of course, or at least that’s what he convinced himself. In actuality he was very much acting suspiciously.

Grabbing a cup and pouring himself some juice he leaned against the counter and crossed his arm over his chest taking a sip from the cup before pointing in the direction of the doorway. “So tonight sounded fun…”

“Don’t even try tiny.”

Sam knew exactly what he was here for and he wasn’t going to give him any info.

“Right, of course not,” Scott said, clearing his throat and pushing his body off from the counter. Grabbing another cup and filling it up he returned back to his spot on the couch where he waited, taking the occasional sip here and there until you would eventually come out, in a typical t-shirt and sweatpants.

Easily spotting the drink you thank him and sit in the spot beside him, taking a sip from the cup.

“So tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Oh come on. Before going you were dreading the fancy-schmancy dinner vibe, what happened?”

“Nothing really, it was just a lot more fun than I expected.”

“Oh yeah, how?”

You shrugged your shoulders but he just jutted his head towards you, motioning for you to answer the question.

“Okay yes, I was dreading it and getting the intel was easy…”

Scott shifted in his spot crossing his legs on the couch showing you he was listening. “It was honestly boring and I wanted to leave like right away but Sam thought it would be cool to stick around and actually try enjoy the party. I’ve never been to a fancy party like that. The food was absolutely delicious, the building was gorgeous and I actually danced.”

Scott’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened, not even pretending to hold back his surprise. “No.”

“Yes…”

You went on about how surprised you were with how fun the party was and the good time you had. With each statement, Scott was adding another layer to the image in his head, imagining the scene unfold as he just continued to wish he was there with you.

Without realizing it, his face fell into a dazed appearance and for a little bit it seemed like you lost him.

“Sorry I’m probably boring you with all this.” you apologized, scratching your cheek and taking one more sip from your drink.

Scott seemed surprised before blinking his wide eyes and clicking his tongue. “No, not at all!”

He closes his lips and takes a tiny breath of air for confidence. “Not going to lie though I really wish it was me who was partnered up with you tonight.”

You grinned at his words before leaning closer to him in a hushed voice, “is it bad that I wished the same?”

Your grin only widened as he leaned closer, the distance from your face shortening. Despite the quickening of his own pulse he still breathed out, “new question, is it bad that I have feelings for you?”

You hid your surprise well, opting to melt on the inside having finally confirmed that he shared the same feelings for you. Despite what your insides felt you maintained your unfazed expression before you continued this twenty question game you two seemed to be doing, “is it bad that I want to kiss you?”

Which is when he responds, “is it bad that I want to kiss you?”

Okay you were officially done with this playful back and forth, opting to just go for it and smoothly leaned close pressing your lips into his, which he easily follows.

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justsomerandomfanfic · 1 year

Text

Irresistible - Scott Lang X Female Reader

Title: Irresistible

Scott Lang X Female Reader

Additional Characters: The Avengers (Mentioned), Pepper (Mentioned), Tony Stark

WC: 2,065

Warnings: Fighting, #eattherich, slight angst, yelling, emotions, nervousness, anxiety, Scott's in love, and fluff

Running along the street, Scott looked up, seeing you running along the roofs. Scott had a small disadvantage, not being able to get on the roof fast enough to stop you and not fall behind. He ran under light posts and dodged the few and rare people on the sidewalk as you ran through the night. Scott had been trying to stop you for the past couple of months, but every time he thought he had you, you'd just vanish. He was tired of trying to catch you, but he needed to focus on stopping your evil schemes, which were growing more elaborate with each passing day.

But Scott had a small problem... He was falling in love with you. Every time he saw you, it was like there was this spark inside him that lit up at the sight of you. He couldn't think straight when he would see you and it made him so frustrated because he couldn't be with you, but he wanted to be with you, and he didn't know what to do about it. You were the bad guy for crying out loud.

You stopped, your pathway blocked by a taller building, way too tall for you to jump and climb up it. You quickly looked around, finding you were also way too high up to jump and run. You were out of options. Breathing heavily, you turned and let out a sigh, watching as Ant-Man climbed the building next to you, before leaping over to your building. He walked over, but you could tell by his body language that he was confused. You knew he'd never gotten this close to you before you found a way out and escaped. You had been running away from Scott for so long.

For months you had eluded him, his Avenger friends, and the police. In the beginning, you found Scott to be annoying, a bit of a class clown, but annoying. But, as the months went on, you got to know him a bit from your teasing and chatting back and forward and found out his name. You found him cute and even had a small crush on the man, but you needed to keep yourself first. You weren’t going to let your attraction for the man get you in trouble. No matter how irresistible he was.

"Well, Y/N... Seems like you're stuck." He remarked, taking a step closer to you. He opened his mask so you could finally read his expression, a small smile on his face. "I'm sorry but I have to bring you in."

You shifted your weight to the side, crossing your arms, smirking lightly, "Mmm, no, I don't think I want to. I'm fine right where I am. You know, not being tortured and interrogated."

You watched as his eyebrows furrowed, "We're not going to torture you, interrogate, yes, but not torture you. That's not what we do."

You rolled your eyes, "Questions are torture. You and your Avenger friends are going to ask and ask about why I’m doing what I do and how I do it and it’s going to get annoying real fast. Can we just pretend you never ran into me? That'd be great." You spoke sarcastically only for Scott to shake his head.

"Sorry, honey, but I have to bring you in. You have been hacking into the stock market. You keep crashing it."

You nodded, walking up to him, circling him as if he were prey, "Yep, and I am pretty proud of it." You paused, placing your hands on Scott's suit shoulder, resting your chin on your hands as he turned to look at you. "Besides, you should be thanking me. I'm making sure dumb millionaires and billionaires aren't taking advantage of others." You whispered at the close proximity, reaching out to poke Scott in the cheek with your finger. "You know... Eat the rich."

“You also help hack into the Tower’s system. We’ve had four security breaches because of that.”

You shrugged, staring into his memorizing green eyes. “Yeah, but no harm, right?”

Scott frowned, “We’ve had a lot of Hulk appearances.”

“Mmm, but that’s all I’ve done to you and your poor baby Avengers.” You cooed, going back to poke Scott’s cheek repeatedly. So soft. You thought.

“You posted a fake dating profile of Stark to almost every dating website on the internet.”

You nodded, “One of my proudest achievements. So fun. Half the reason why you should let me go… I make life harder for dumb million billionaires.”

Scott slowly grabbed your hands from his shoulder, shaking his head with a frown. "I wish I could, but I can't, Y/N." Making you narrow your eyes.

"I am not coming with you, Scott." Your sarcastic and flirty side was now gone as you tried to pull your hands from his.

"I have to do this, Y/N. I don't want to but what you do is illegal and the cops can't get you so I have to. So please, it's been a long couple of months of this. Just stop." Scott begged you, wishing and hoping you would just give up and come with him quietly.

You stared at him with a hard gaze, "Oh, what's a couple of more months?" You then twisted your hands around, grasping Scott's wrists, and before Scott could even realize what was happening, you pushed his arms together and twisted him around, before pushing Scott forward.

Scott stumbled forward in surprise, before turning to see you trying to run off. Running over to you, Scott was much faster, grabbing you around the waist and pulling you into his chest. You both breathed heavily out as you struggled in his grasp.

"Just stop, Y/N. You're only making this harder on yourself." Scott tried to convenience you again but you weren't having it. You took a hold of his arm around you, using your strength to push it up and over your head before spinning around and out of his arms once more. And so your fighting dance began. Scott tried to capture you but you deflected his attempts of grabbing you, making you more and more irritated as you kept avoiding him. Usually, with some heroes, you punch, kick, whatever you had to to get away. But... You didn't want to hurt Scott. He wasn't like the other heroes he worked with. He was good. Too good. He was nice, he treated you well, and he was attractive. You liked him, and he was still trying to help you. You grew more and more annoyed with yourself the more you thought about it. You didn't want to get caught. You were becoming desperate now, chest heaving as you began to slow.

As a last resort, you just managed to push him off of you before he grabbed your wrist. Before you knew it, you were falling backwards, unable to catch yourself. You fell onto your back, Scott’s hand swiftly making it behind your head before you hit the ground. Before you knew it, Scott was over you, pinning you down. You squirmed under his weight, struggling as he tried to hold you still. "Please..." Scott begged, "Just stop!" You huffed as you stared up at him, his green eyes practically begging you as well. "Y/N... Please... Stop..." Scott pleaded once more.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes, "Alright… Alright." You grumbled, as Scott let out a sigh of relief. Quickly, you opened your eyes, you placed your hands on Scott's shoulder, using the rest of your strength to roll over, pinning Scott to the ground. "Ha! Now, here's the deal. I'm going to go and you're going to let me. Okay? okay. Good talk."

"You're beautiful," Scott spoke breathlessly, staring softly up at you, making you freeze.

You stared back down at him, speechless, "You- You can't say things like that, Scott. I'm supposed to hate you."

"And you don't?" Scott asked you, his expression was unreadable, but his eyes... The look in his eyes made your chest warm up and your stomach flutter with butterflies.

You pushed through those feelings building up in you as you pushed against his chest, sitting up frustratedly, "This isn't how this works! I fight you, you fight me. And I escape getting captured by those dumb Avengers! End of the story." You exclaimed as Scott sat up as well.

"Or... You could not run away again." As you shook your head rapidly, Scott's hands landed on your waist. “Not run away and come with me…”

"You are such an idiot! You don't understand-"

"Your idiot." Scott smiled dopily up at you.

You groaned, feeling your cheeks warm up, "Oh my god! Shut up! Why do you have to do this to me?"

Scott tilted his head to the side, "Do what?" He asked and you let out a sigh, one similar to the defeated one you had done only moments ago. But this time, as Scott looked at you, you actually looked sad.

"Why do you have to make me like you? Why do you make me feel like you..." You groaned, placing your hands over your face. "Like you care for me? Why are you so confusing!? Why can't you just hate me!?"

Scott spoke up, his voice soft. "Because, I can't hate you. I do like you. A lot really." He confessed, reaching up to take your hands in his, bringing them away from your face. Noticing your tearful eyes. "You mean so much to me."

"Don't... Say things like that..." You mumbled quietly.

Scott chuckled slightly, looking down and biting his lip, "So what do you want me to say?" He glanced up at you, meeting your sad and red eyes, "...I love you." He finished, holding eye contact.

You sucked in a breath before looking back down, "Not helping." You muttered.

"But I-"

You quickly cut Scott off, leaning in and pressing your lips against his, silencing him. When you pulled away, Scott looked shocked, blinking slowly. After a few seconds of silence, Scott leaned into you, wrapping his arms around your waist, his eyes darting from yours to your lips and back. Leaning in, his nose brushed yours before he kissed you deeply. You kissed back, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly. Soon, the two of you broke the kiss to catch your breath.

"Wow, that was..." Scott trailed off. You laughed a little, pulling your hand back, and brushing your fingers along his jawline, stubble tickling the tips of your fingers.

"Yeah... Wow." You replied, smiling down at him. "Goodnight, Scott." You gave him one final peck, before you jumped off his lap and ran across the roof, jumping to the one next to it.

Scott watched as you went, with hearts practically in his eyes as he let a smile grow. Once you were out of sight, he slowly stood up, rubbing his forehead, "That girl, she is something else." Making his way down the building, Scott made his way back to the tower, taking his time. Humming a soft cheerful tune as he had a pep in his step. Finally making his way inside the tower, he did a small happy dance in the elevator, singing the song he was humming as he walked into the main room of the tower. Tony turned from his spot on the couch, he raised an eyebrow at the hero.

"Looking pretty happy there, Lang. Finally catch her or something?" He asked, hoping that he did.

Scott turned to the billionaire with a smile, "Something like that."

Tony sighed, running a hand down his face, "You can't let her go next time, bug boy. Who knows, she might try and make it look like I'm on dating sites again. I got in big trouble with Pepper about that, you know?"

Scott chuckled lightly at the image of you trying to make it seem like Tony was on a dating site. Hunched over a computer, wherever you were hiding. Adorable. "No, Tony, I know," Scott said, chuckling. "Won't let her get away next time."

"That's what you said last time. What happened this time?" Tony asked and Scott shrugged.

"She got the upper hand." Scott headed to the kitchen, ready to cook himself a toasted bagel.

Tony hummed skeptically, "Uh-huh... Sure."