#Y/n: *About to do something incredibly stupid* Nat: I know I can't stop you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

buckyarchives · 1 year

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Metal arms and short skirts | Bucky Barnes. {4.}

summary: waltzing in as the new head of the Avenger's medical division, impressing everyone, and... scaring Bucky with your incredibly short skirts. while Bucky's having a hard time looking at his arm as anything other than a deadly weapon, and you're more than happy to help him.

word count: 7.4k

author note: the way this chapter originally was 11k words… i had to cut it down a little and also kinda end it mid chapter and pick up next update? so it may seem like it ends weird? idk. also unfortunately Vivienne Westwood’s death was recently so i thought of to use her dress in the chapter to honor her :) enjoy reading. not beta’d (please i needs a beta reader) important! opening my inbox for drabble request since this series is coming to an end soon

warning: bucky’s self loathing (like usual tbh.), people being mean to bucky (making remarks about his trauma, specifically brain damage), creepy and annoying men.

outfit reference here

read on AO3 | masterlist

Bucky is convinced his life is just one sick joke, and whoever finds this funny— deserves death. his legs bounced wildly, eyes frantically checking the watch on his wrist. it was Steve’s, very expensive, not Bucky's type. the ticking was starting to annoy him, bucky wanted to smash it, then he wouldn't know how late you are.

the navy blue suit, Steve gave him that too, said it brings out his eyes. god- bucky was practically sweating through it, the night hasn’t started yet and he feels like he needs to change. he was overthinking, everyone keeps telling him. but there was a plan, 5 pm and after work, the common room down the hall to your lab. maybe it was just nerves, but it still didn’t excuse the impending doom settling in the bottom of bucky's stomach.

“James, it’s been 10 minutes,” Natasha spoke, dressed in a long black dress. she sat on the floor before a couch, wanda held a curling wand in Natasha's hair as she sat above her. bucky had tried to distract himself by watching the curls form, it was quite fascinating if he wasn’t so distant.

“she is probably just fashionably late, it would make sense,” Wanda said— which felt true. but you’ve never once been late because of your appearance before, bucky can't even think of a time you’ve been late for any reason.

frustrated, Bucky abruptly got up and ran a hand through his hair, beginning to pace. “hey! I am not going to reapply all the gel!” Wanda shouts and bucky's flinches, putting both of his hands to his side like a child obeying their mother.

“what if she doesn't want to be seen with me, you know- like, like that? what if after yesterday she changed her mind, oh my god. Nat, I can't do this.” Bucky rattled on. Natasha rolled her eyes to the back of her head.

“Stop with the what if” Natasha groaned, “she is not even that late.”

“Have you even tried to text her?” Wanda mentions.

Bucky stops pacing.

“you haven’t even called her?'' Natasha looks at Bucky like he's stupid, he feels stupid. “do you know who you are? what if something happened to her that would make her late?”

Bucky's face dropped, oh my god, what if something happened? Bucky doesn't feel stupid, he is stupid. he is the fucking winter soldier, and you’ve been out with him, something could totally happen to you. Bucky's breath hitched before he felt like he was choking on it, was this a panic attack? he can’t call you while having a panic attack, but you could be in danger.

Almost instantly, Bucky grabs his phone on the coffee table. his fingers stumble as he looks for your number, but just as his fingers hover over your name. a loud, annoying ring comes from Natasha’s phone. Bucky's head perks up so do all the heads in the room.

Natasha's eyebrows furrow, looking down at her phone. Wanda follows suit as she looks over her shoulder. “it’s Y/N?”

“pick up!” Wanda shouts.

Natasha taps on the phone, “hey, you oka-“

“no!” you shout from the other line, a matching panic in your voice. “no, I am not! I’ve cycled through like 12 dresses and I have like 3 more but I swear, I’m going to go to Versace or Mytheresa— I will fucking call Valentino right now if I have to.”

faintly, everyone heard the sound of fabric rustling, your heels echoing as you paced through your room, and your heavy breathing. panicking about your outfit.

“Hey, hey, y/n calm down.'' Natasha hushed, your faint rattling didn't stop as you continued on talking about some black dress that made you look bloated. “you don’t need to impulse spend 8k on a dress, don’t make a big deal out of this, you’ll look perfect.”

“But Bucky! What if he doesn't like it, or thinks I look fat, or if I'm trying too hard! or too little? ugh!” you groaned, screamed, and rattled. Bucky had half the mind to shout through the phone that he’d think you're perfect however you showed up. but Natasha knew him well and sent a glare that told him not to.

“I just- just, Natasha… I really like him, I don't want to mess this up.” you sighed in defeat. Bucky's heart surged out of his chest, his face felt hot. He just wanted to cradle you close and tell you everything was okay.

“y/n.” Natasha started, her voice stern. “what are you doing right now.”

the other line went silent for a moment. bucky can imagine your thinking face, eyes narrowed, and tugging your lip under your teeth. a sigh escapes your mouth. “I'm on the floor in my closet, trying not to back out or cry.”

“Just don’t back out, okay? I'll be over to help you, sounds good?”

a small sniffle that broke bucky’s heart, “yes.”

“Okay, don’t die of panicking.” Natasha finished, hanging up the phone with a sigh.

Bucky sank down onto the couch, raking his hand through his hair again despite Wanda's protest. letting out a heavy exhale.

you were safe, that’s really what matters. but you were also on the brink of crying, probably tearing through your closet like a mad woman just to appease bucky’s opinions. He felt like a dick.

Natasha sat still, staring at Bucky like she knew more, knew better. Bucky couldn’t read her.

“Are you going?” he said weakly.

“No,” Natasha said plainly, making her way towards Bucky and dragging him to his feet by his suit— before straightening Bucky out. from his suit to his hair, even smoothing the small nervous wrinkles on his forehead.

Natasha always felt like a sister to Bucky in this way. helping him, worrying for him, supporting him, and seemingly reluctantly saving him with Steve couldn't. They shared many painful experiences that brought them close. Natasha was always there for bucky.

“you are.”

“What?!”

Bucky stood dumbfounded, “you’re going to go over there. get her out of her head, pick a dress that makes her look like a fucking goddess, maybe one that matches yours. and make her feel beautiful.”

“I can’t-“

“Shut up, Barnes,” Wanda interjects, the same determination on her face as Natasha's. there was no way he was getting out of this. “go, or I'll make you.”

Bucky watched as Wanda conjured up the red ball of pure power in her hands, an empty threat; they already talked about using her powers for this reason. but enough to scare the shit out of Bucky and make him nod violently. almost to convince himself that he could go.

“go get your girl.” Natasha encouraged.

******

Somewhere between throwing dresses around and banging your head on your walk-in closet walls, you decided that it didn't matter that you weren't mid-age yet, this was a mid-life crisis. Never in your life have you second-guessed your judgment on what to wear, not even in the eyes of the greatest designers the world knows.

But here you sat, verge of tear on your floor. Piles building up around you of dresses, shoes, tights, et cetera, et cetera. You were practically drowning in silk, crepe, and chiffon. Moments ago you really had a dress, it fit perfectly and made your complexion glow, but then the thought of what Bucky would think made you spiral.

Honestly, you knew deep, deep down that he wouldn't care. A day ago he saw you covered in Sam Wilson's blood, so there was really only going up from there. You knew he was a good guy, not one to point out fat rolls on your back or if your stomach was bloated. But the female experience constantly sabotaged those positive thoughts and brought out the ‘what ifs’.

Natasha wasn't much help on the phone. She just spared you from spending your paycheck on another Valentino dress and told you to calm down. She'd be over in a few, you trusted her taste enough, at least you'd have a second opinion. she always looked good, but it was easy for her.

You didn’t think of yourself as an envious person, especially the looks or body category but it was hard in this fragile state of mind to not long for a widows physic.

The loud and echoing noise of your doorbell shook you from your thoughts, you had been spacing out. Throwing on the first piece of fabric you saw on the floor, a large dress shit? Sure, whatever, it was just Natasha. Another loud ring.

“Gimme a moment, Nat!” you shouted, seeing a flash of yourself in a full-sized mirror. you look pathetic, with black tights, a dress shirt, and hair lazily put in a claw. You were already late, how worse could it get?

Spoiler. Much worse. very, very worse.

Opening your front door abruptly, a spew of apologies and worries left your mouth before you could notice the lack of red hair. Eyes wide and mouth gaped, Bucky stood before you. And like the fucking pathetic idiot you are, before Bucky could get a word out, you slammed the door in his face with a high-pitched yelp. A hand flew to cover your mouth, to contain the groans and curse words directed at Natasha. Because of-fucking-course she’d do this.

A wave of guilt and mostly embarrassment washed over you before you could kick yourself more - you opened the door, again.

“I'm so sorry, bucky! I didn't mean to do that– you just surprised me.” the words stumbled over themself, a stuttering mess. You were an udder wreck, this is so embarrassing, you thought. Your voice rose a few octaves, almost certain your makeup had smudged off by now. “Wha- what are you doing here?”

“Nat sent me,” he spoke plainly, standing dumbfounded in your apartment hallway.

“Of course she did.” you cursed and gritted under your breath, words coming out harsher than intended. An unsure face washed over Bucky and he took a tiny step back.

“I can go if you’re uncomfortable.'' Bucky sounded small, it broke your heart.

“No! Please don’t, I'm just freaking out right now– not sure why.” you definitely knew why. Stopping in the middle of your sentence once you notice Bucky's attire. Experiencing whiplash at the sight of the slick, noticeably expensive navy suit he wore. You practically did a double take, blinking like an idiot as you looked him up and down. “Wow! You look great, like really great.”

“And you look…” Bucky's eye trailed up your body, his eyes landing on your face. “Perfect, as always.”

Maybe it was the stress, or nerves, but you were a flustered mess. Complements, embarrassment, running around crying– you shouldn't even try to imagine what you looked like.

“I just threw this on, I…” you noticed the way Bucky began fidgeting and shifting his feet, standing awkwardly with his gaze finding the apartment behind you. “I'm sorry! Come in, come in.”

Moving out of the way for Bucky and letting him in, his eyes travel to every corner, eyes wide in awe. Your apartment was more of the ‘rich, new york snob, with high ceilings and large windows.’ but it was still you and Bucky was taking it in.

Bucky hummed, finishing his look over of the front room and turning back to face you. Fuck, he looked so good, from head to toe, his hair was a little messy and you could see gel residue that made you want to pounce and fix it.

And you were so– a mess.

“I'm sorry for my appearance, I've been panicking and I'm so late, I didn't mean to make you late or worry. Gosh, my makeup is probably messy and–”

Bucky found himself right in front of you, tearing you from your rambling as he grabbed your face. Cradling your jaw in his palms as your eyes met his, wide and frantic. “Doll, stop apologizing, please. You'd done nothing wrong, you look perfect. Everything’s okay.'' Bucky spoke slowly, sure of himself and successfully bringing you back down. You breathed and nodded.

“Now, let me help you get dressed.”

You could kiss him right now if you had a slight nerve. Where did your confidence go all of a sudden?

Bucky must have read your mind, slightly. Pressing a kiss to your crown that made you lean into his hands, worries slowly leaving and almost forgetting about that stupid dress and gala.

Grabbing Bucky's hand with a giddy smile, pulling him into your room slash tornado mess of fabrics. And it showed on Bucky's face, a large huff left his mouth as he stopped in your doorway, eyes exaggeratedly wide..

Maybe it was just growing up in the depression era, and also being just straight-up poor, but the amount of fabric on the floor felt infinite and slightly unnecessary to Bucky. He knew you were a science prodigy and had been paid highly for your research and machines, even more, evident after seeing your place. He's never known luxury and pleasure like this.

“Why do you have so many dresses?”

Shrugging, “fashion is like art to me, and so in some ways, i'm just collecting art. I also have a horrible spending problem, but that's a conversation for another time I think.”

“What are the options?” Bucky asked.

“Uhh,” you stumbled around your room and threw a few dressed around. “Versace, very nice. Christian Dior, is expensive, also nice. Dolce and Gabbana…”

Bucky lazily caught the very expensive dresses you threw around like nothing, peaking into your large walk-in closet. As if your personality summed up into a room, colorful and expensive textiles piled up. Bucky was positive the room was usually clean and organized to the tee. You kept yelling out random French or Italian names Bucky had no knowledge of.

“Okay, slow down. I can speak like twenty-two languages but high fashion is not one of them.” Bucky stopped your rambling, pulling up a long, blood-red gown to your body. “What's wrong with this one, this is pretty.”

You looked at Bucky as if he grew three heads, “way too long, I’d trip over myself all night, and if I’m going with you– red and blue? I know your cap's best friend but come on now, Buck.”

“Okay.” Bucky sighed, picking up a black slim dress. Even imagining you in this one made a pink tint rise to his face. “And this one?”

“Makes me look like a bloated ballon,” you said plainly.

Now Bucky was looking at you like an idiot. “Stop it with that, you’re perfect.”

“Gee thanks, but that doesn't help right now.” you snapped, instantly recoiling at your harsh tone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Bucky just smiled, his charming and stupidly sweet smile that makes your knees weak. Wrapping his hands gently around your shoulder and staring intently into your eyes. “Baby, calm down.”

You breathed, tried to at least. The sweet name also made you choke but besides that, Bucky's smooth voice distracted you. “I’m calm.”

“Good.” Bucky nodded, his eyes glancing to the far corner of your closet. A certain light in his eyes showed before his gaze came back to your face. “What about that one?”

Bucky pointed to a certain very special, navy blue dress. Your eyes were wide as you looked between Bucky and the dress. As the silky fabric hung from the hanger, you only took it out of the “vault” to look at it, and didn't even think to try it on. Just wanted to relish in the beauty of it.

“I- no, I can't wear that.” you studdered.

Bucky knew nothing of fashion. What looked good, what was in season, or what was acceptable in the fashion industry. All he knew was the dress looked expensive, matching his and even the thought of you in it made bucky want to fall to his knees. He wasn't leaving this apartment without you in it, to hell any stupid excuse you gave.

“Why not?” he said, stepping carefully over the clothes littered beneath him and picking up the dress. Putting it up to your body, it looked perfect.

��James Buchanan. This was personally gifted to me by Vivienne Westwood. I can’t just wear this.” you shouted.

“I don't know who that is or what that means, put it on.” he shoved the dress in your hands.

“Buck-”

“Please, for me?”

Blinking like an idiot in front of Bucky. You couldn't protest anymore, Bucky was more stubborn than you, and you soon realized he probably wasn’t gonna let you out door without at least seeing it on. You held the dress in your hands, running the fabric under your fingers, huffing dramatically. “Fine, I’ll be in the bathroom, wait here”

Your steps cascaded as you left for the bathroom connected to your room, Bucky awkwardly settled himself on the edge of your bed. Beginning to fidget with the hem of his coat jacket as he waited nervously.

Meanwhile, cursing to yourself in the bathroom as you slipped the dress on it. This dress was gravely special to you, because on your off times and not nose deep in the labs, you'd spent them at fashion events and runways.

Meeting Vivienne was one of the best memories of your life, (next to offering Bucky a new arm) and you'd almost dropped dead when a box decked with the familiar orb logo showed up in front of your door. You had only worn it twice - in your bedroom, too scared and almost feeling unworthy to wear such a thing.

Bucky Barnes sure was special for getting you to go to a stark party with it on.

grunts came from the bathroom as you struggled to slip it on, the zipper reached your middle back and out of reach. Slowly unlocking the door, Bucky's head whipped in your direction. And god, suddenly he couldn't breathe. Even as you clumsily shimmied toward Bucky with your arms awkwardly holding the back up, he thought you looked like the most beautiful girl in the world.

“Buck, can you? The zipper, please?” you turned around and showed the back. Bucky couldn't move for a moment, utterly stunned by your presence. You whispered his name again to catch his attention. Then he stumbled to his feet like a flustered 15-year-old boy. He sure felt like one.

“Yeah. sorry, doll. I got it,” he spoke. You tensed up when Bucky's warm hands touched your bare shoulders. His hands held you like you were glass, slowly zipping the dress up fully. But you didn’t turn around yet, facing him now just felt wrong. You could feel Bucky's breath as his hand trailed across your shoulder blades, Bucky felt goosebumps slowly rise to your skin, and all self-control was gone.

Bucky leaned down and placed a small peck on the crook of your neck, he didn’t even know what he was doing but you practically shuddered under his touch. A chill shot through you and your knees went weak. And then another kiss, and another, and another. His lips slowly made their way up your neck, and one of his hands rested on your waist now.

“You're breathtaking, doll. I’m serious, I've never seen someone so beautiful in my life.” bucky whispered close to your ear, hot breath on your skin that made you ache. His featherlike kisses made you ache, he was so gentle and careful like you’d break under him. You ached for more.

Ever so swiftly, you turned to face bucky. Your hands latched to his neck, “kiss me like you mean it, Barnes.”

In a single instant, bucky’s lips crashed to yours as if his life depended on it, like he couldn't breathe without you. Your back arches into him as he pulled you closer, tongue swiping across his as he let you in. bodies pressed against each other, clinging, aching. More, more, more.

“Bucky…” you wined against his lips, and Bucky quickly pondered if this gala was even worth it. You both were already late, anyways. He hummed sweetly against your lips, your knees hit the edge of your bed and with a surprised yelp, bucky fell atop you on the bed. Kiss unbroken, but you smiled and felt bucky smile into the kiss, following him.

Your hand tangled in his long hair, successfully messing it up farther than it was before. Buckys pulled away just enough to look you in the eye, adoration you found and almost melted. The ends of bucky’s lip quirked up into his infamous dorky smile you only saw on a few special occasions.

“We’re already late…” he whispers so softly.

“Yeah.” you can only mutter out in a daze, falling surrender under bucky’s gaze. Your fingers still tangled in bucky’s brunette hair, getting your nails deep and scratching at his scalp. A quiet pleasured groan escapes his lips. “I messed up your hair.”

Bucky chuckles, “it's okay.”

Tugging your lower lip under your teeth, smiling widely as an idea pops into your head. “Get up, come with me.”

you usher him off you, playfully grabbing at his hands and stumbling over your clothes with bucky following close behind you. leading him into your bathroom and in front of the mirror.

Bucky stood much taller than you, especially without heels. Bucky chuckled as you dragged a small step stool and stepped up behind him. He speaks through a grin, “What are you doing?”

“I messed up your hair, but to be honest– whoever did it added too much gel so I’m going to fix it,” you spoke, grabbing a brush and spray bottle and beginning to spritz his hair in the water. Bucky seemed more than content with your hands raking through his locks.

First parting his hair in half, pulling the top half into a bun, and let the rest fall down. Cocking your head at the sight, he always looked good but not this hairstyle for a gala. Bucky's face crunched up too and you took that as a big no. you just left the hair to fall down naturally, being so used to the regular middle part, you thought to grab the comb and give him a side part.

“What do you think about this?” you asked, brushing the hair out.

Bucky hummed, “Different.”

“Bad or…?”

“No.” bucky smiles, then you realize he's not even looking at himself, his eyes are trained on you. “I like it.”

Leaning down to kiss the top of his head, bucky grew flustered. Jumping down from your stool and kicking it away. Grumbling under your breath, “I gotta get my height back.”

And with that, you grabbed a pair of black heels and before you could go to slip them on, bucky swiped them from your hands and wordlessly knelt down and grabbed your leg. Halfway convinced you were dead and gone to heaven before going along and letting bucky slip the heels on your feet.

Bucky’s eyes gaze slowly up your legs, and body and found your eyes. Your breath hitched as his hand begin to slowly travel up your calve, thigh, and waist. Not taking a moment before his lips were on yours again, the kiss was sweeter now, so sweet you felt your teeth rot.

But then it grew wild, and needy when bucky’s hand squeezed at your waist and thigh. Pushing yourself against his body like a puzzle piece, kissing him was so natural to you, like a motion you were meant to do your whole life. Nipping at Bucky’s lower lip, earning a hungry groan from the soldier.

Both his hands found themselves on your thighs, catching you by surprise when he lifts you up to sit on the counter. Giving himself a better angle to push you flush against him, feeling pleasure shoot through you when your hips met his waist. you knew where this would go if you even got a taste though– and you both were already incredibly late. At this point, you wondered if you'd even go.

“Bucky, I'm serious, we gotta go…” you wine against his lips, Bucky chased after your touch but you pulled away.

A dramatic groan escaped his lips, his head falling in the nook of your shoulder. “I know, I know.”

You hopped off the counter, half mindedly grabbing a Vivienne Westwood pearls to finish the look, because god forbid your outfit to be boring. Bucky watched you with adoration as you both walked hand in hand, leading him out of your apartment. One last glance was spared at your mess of a bedroom, you sighed and told yourself you'd clean it later.

Bucky called over a cab and you two headed off to the Stark tower. One quiet and comfortable ride, bucky’s hand stayed placed on your thigh, your head fell onto his shoulder as your gaze landed on the passing new york streets. A small hum escaped your lips, Bucky squeezed your thigh gently and soon enough you were in front of the huge and practically sparkling tower.

The press and flashing paparazzi that found word of the gala yet were not invited littered around, most were gone as you were at least 40 minutes late. Sometimes you forgot these people you worked with were essentially celebrities in the public eye, they had PR teams and brand deals. You'd see tabloids with iron man's names or magazines in the streets talking about Captain America’s new love interest.

And apparently, Bucky Barnes was no different.

“Bucky Barnes! Winter soldier sir! Is this your new girlfriend!” a young man shouted from behind the barricade, a couple of flashes of cameras. You’d expect your pictures on some website with some arbitrary statement about you and Bucky soon. Even so, this man seemed much nicer than the overbearing fangirls of Steve or scum of the earth reporters yelling bottom-line misogynist comments towards Natasha or Wanda.

Bucky kept his head down as you wrapped an arm around his shoulder and forearm, he wasn't one for crowds or simply people who only knew him for what the media portrayed him as.

“You’re okay.” was all you spoke into his ear as you made your way into the doors, being hit with the cool air of the building. Your arms loosened around Bucky now you were in the somewhat safe zone, but his arm snaked around your waist as you walked into the more crowded area.

“Holy shit, I don't know which one to call the arm candy.” Sam's voice yelled from behind you. Being met with Sam in a nice black suit, along with Wanda in a sparkly red dress and Clint in an all-black suit as well.

Everyone looked amazing, it was rare to see them out of kevlar and super suits, or raggedy clothes thrown on after feeling like shit from tough missions.

“And Sam, wow! You clean up nice!” you complimented him.

“You look good, man.” Bucky said, a small smile on his face.

“You too, buck,” Sam said, nodding towards his new hair. “I like the hair, suits you, I still think you need to shave your beard.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, along with a small quirk at the end of his lips as he playfully smacked his shoulder. “Whatever.”

The small chatter continued, a glimpse of the inside of the loud ballroom as guests came and went. Bucky seemed to warm up to everyone more, a smile gracing his lips that made him look at least two decades younger. Soon a smooth and low voice was heard behind you.

“Sometimes I wonder if you are in the wrong profession, you know?” Natasha said, her vibrant red hair pinned up and wearing a beautiful black, slim dress, with two small cutouts on by her waist. You couldn't help but think it was a nod to looking more like the iconic widow hourglass she wore on her belt.

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly, “really?”

“Look at yourself, model material in front of me.” Natasha's eyes scanned up your body, a small smirk on your lips.

“You should thank Bucky.” you smiled, eyes glancing towards the man as he conversed with Sam and Steve. He looked genuinely happy and comfortable, a part of you swelled with pride for him. “He convinced me to wear this.”

“And thank god for that.” she laughed. “Also, I think Tony and Bruce were looking for you.”

It took just that for you to excuse yourself from the group, and give Bucky a comforting squeeze as your heels echoed and left the small gathering of avengers. Going to search for Bruce and Tony, apparently to speak about some new projects and talk with some foreign scientists looking for collaborations.

Meanwhile, the cap quartet was left sitting lazily around hallway couches and successfully avoiding the overbearing and bluntly disrespectful politicians and reporters, fans even. Natasha snuck close to Bucky and next to Sam as they spoke about nonsense or missions.

“You make her feel beautiful?” Natasha spoke, nursing a drink in her hands despite the fact she had only taken 2 sips in the past 20 minutes.

Bucky's mind went back to the bathroom counter or the edge of your bed, the way his heart raced and cock twitched as his hands roamed your body. when your breath hitched as he bent down before you and trailed his palms up your legs, and pressed himself against your core. Bucky hummed, trying to cover up the pink-tinted ears at the more than erotic memory,

“yeah, yeah, I think so.”

******

“I’m really glad this collaboration is going through, I’m hoping we get some really good things done soon.” Miles franco's upbeat and excited voice spoke.

your heels echoed in the hallway, just leaving a semi-empty meeting room with Bruce, Tony, and Pepper. Miles was a scientist and developer with new ideas and resources for some big projects Tony’s been wanting to start. He spoke kindly and had confidence in him that made you feel secure in working with him.

After a text from Bucky that the group had gone into the ballroom to actually do what they were there for, you excused yourself while Bruce continued to look over the contract you’d be signing in a few days, and Tony and Pepper went off to… you’d rather not think about it. Miles kindly offered to walk you back, as long as you introduced him to Natasha. with a smile and laugh you began to walk back.

“I am too, I’m also just glad to be back and working in one place.” you laughed, referring to your last few years of constant traveling, researching, and volunteering. meeting as many high-level and reputable people to kick start a better career. “Tony’s been very good to be over the past month.”

Miles clicked this tongue, making a tsk sound as his steps faltered. He wore a smirk that didn’t match his friendly smile from earlier, like something hidden beneath his conventionally attractive smile and dimples. Once you stopped, he began to close the gap between the two of you, shaking his head.

“You know, you don’t need Tony.” Miles' voice sounded coy, cocky. As if he knew better and had to teach you some lesson.

“Pardon?”

he chuckled, “you're smart, sexy, young, and know your way around a room. in a few years you’ll be running laps around both Tony and Bruce, they’re holding you back by making you work under them.”

you blinked, almost flinching from the sudden change in tone. “they aren’t making me do anything, and we’re partners if anything”

Miles flashed his smile again as he stepped closer and tried to reach for your hand, you smoothly avoided his touch, but he was practically in your face now.

“you know what I mean.” he sighed, “you could be so much more, making millions and having anything your heart desires. make a deal with me, I can give that to you.”

“I’m content with what I have now, thank you. and I’m definitely not making a deal with someone who insults my colleagues— my friends.” you snarled, trying to remain as professional as you could. not wanting to drag out any hostility from the man before you, the hallway was far away from the main ballroom and empty.

you were mentally done with the conversation, wanting away from Mile’s hot breath and uncomfortable stares (you were sure he was staring down your dress as he crept closer). Turning your back on the man, steps speeding up from before as you fumed with anger.

a low chuckle was heard from behind you, making your skin crawl. “fuck, that man really has you dickmatized or something.”

okay, what the fuck?

stopping dead in your tracks, gasping under your breath as your whipped your head back around. face scrunched in anger— stop, you have to tell yourself. He’s trying to make you mad, calm down.

“Excuse me, what now?”

“Barnes. You don’t think everyone knows by now? I’m positive he’s the only reason you're still at that shitty compound, working with those super freaks. you could be so much more if it wasn’t for him.”

Breathe in— breathe out.

trying to settle the rage settling low in your stomach, slowly rising to your chest. trying not to make your voice shake as you responded. “Bucky has absolutely nothing to do with my job.”

another low laugh. God, this man was fucking evil.

“Come on! you’re fucking amazing and potentially one of the smartest people on earth, that guy doesn’t deserve you! I’m sure with the amount of brain damage the commies gave him he can’t even count to 10.” Miles frustrated, closing the gap once again, you felt stuck in place. “face it, he’s a fucking nut who only knows how to handle a gun like a mad man, a ticking time bomb.”

your fist clenched until your nails dug into your palm, blood trickling down your hand. Your breath was unsteady with rage, but you couldn’t move— you felt frozen under his disgusting gaze. Mile's hand moved to grab at your waist and pull you close, you jerked back.

heavy exhales, your voice raised slightly - keep it professional - you must have been shaking. “don’t insult my- my boyfriend’s intelligence, you are not even an ounce of the man he is. and do not even try to touch me again.”

Miles rolled his eyes, trying to step closer again if possible. “come one, don’t be like that babe-“

“and consider your part in this collaboration gone. you will not be making any more money or deals with Stark industries from now on.” your voice settled, you sounded stern and strong. holding your head high as you held back from screaming in his face.

Mile’s features dropped, the cocky smirk faded and he looked weak – desperate and small. “you don’t have the right to do that.”

now, you got in his face. “yes, Miles. yes, I do.”

he genuinely looked scared and pride warmed in your chest. getting one last ‘fuck you’ in as you very harshly slammed your heel on his foot. he groaned and curled into himself, you hoped to draw blood there. you were wearing stilettos.

picking up your pace as you fled from him, head still held high but you felt shaky. this wasn’t the first time you’d experienced sexual harassment or insults and you were sure it wasn’t going to be the last but the meer mention of Bucky shook you, the insult towards Bruce and Tony. the way he felt like he held something over your head and felt obligated to touch you. your skin crawled.

you were left in a daze, finding your way back to the ballroom, warm lights and loud chatter everywhere. instantly hiding from the crowded areas and searching for Bucky. you edged with anxiety.

Breathe in— breathe out.

Bucky stood near the bar, nursing a drink that probably had zero effect on him. you sped over to him and pushed out a smile.

“Buck! sorry, I got caught up!” you spoke as you approached him. Bucky’s eyes lit up lighter than any light in the room, making you feel warm and comfortable again.

“Hey, doll.” Bucky smiled, reaching to wrap his arm around your waist. “don’t worry, how’d the talk go?”

you opened your mouth to speak of the contract and project, finding a way to leave the hallway interaction out. but Bucky interrupted you abruptly, worry fell onto his features as he brought your hand into his.

“Sweetheart, what is this? are you okay?” he looked down at your bleeding palm, small cuts the size of your nails and the tips and cuticle of your nails stained red.

“It's nothing.” you shrugged it off and slipped your hand away from his grasp.

“No.” Bucky spoke, stern and clear. Grabbing your hand back and running his fingers along the small cuts. “It's not. What happened?”

You sighed heavily, avoiding eye contact but Bucky knew much better. He grabbed your chin between his thumb and index, your eyes still gazed down.

“Baby.” bucky whispered.

“Seriously, Bucky, it's nothing. I just had a frustrating person in that meeting, didn’t even realize I was doing it.” you rattled, grasping for an excuse without having to lie to the man.

Bucky sighed, pulling you away to the side with no word. Wetting an entirely too expensive Stark napkin with alcohol and wiping at your plams, stinging slightly. Bucky worked so gently, his hand wrapped around your forearm made you feel warm.

“I've seen you handle Stark at his lowest moment, bark off assholes like it's nothing. It is obviously not nothing, doll”

You wouldn't win this, not with the most stubborn man in front of you. You watched as he smoothed his thumb over your hand.

“this guy…” Bucky listened intently, his full attention on you and adoration yet, worry dripped from his features. “The collaborator from France, he said some rude things about Tony, Bruce and, uh… you. He tried to sweet talk me into leaving Stark industrie. Kept calling me all these objectifying names, he’s a dick I can’t believe I was excited about this project.”

Bucky's back straightened and his jaw clenched. He looked around the room, almost to find the man responsible. It was Bucky's turn to clench his first, knuckles turning white.

“and you?” was all Bucky could manage to mumbled out.

“I told him off and smashed his foot with my heel, and I'm making Tony diminish the contract.” you replied.

“Good.” Bucky nodded, snarling under his breath. “deserves a lot more than that.”

“I’m okay, seriously. just shook me up for a moment.” you reassure the man, because there was no way he was letting go of this. you took Bucky’s hand and dragged him towards the dance floor. “now dance with me, sergeant.”

the bright, boyish smile reluctantly returned to his face. hands almost instantly falling at your side and pulling you flush again this chest. you chased into the touch, grinning.

And that's how you and Bucky spent the next few moments, soft live music played in the background, other couples and friends swayed around you two. Bucky would quietly hum along to the music sometimes, your head rested on his chest and you'd feel the soft vibrations from him. You'd never understand how safe and secure you could feel in someone's arms, the idea sounded so out of reach and impossible only a few months ago. God knows you had never even thought to make time to explore that idea, but here it was, coming to you without even realizing it. It felt so natural now.

Bucky's hand smoothed on the exposed skin on your back and arms, he breathed freely, not feeling tense or on edge like most of his life. And for the first time since the alps, Bucky felt soft inside– in a sense. Bucky didn't feel dangerous, like he would break the person that he held in his arms. He didn't feel like an animal, a machine, or a murderer. Bucky smelled the lavender conditioner in your hair, the expensive smelling perfume on you. Bucky felt like a man in love with a girl, he is one.

Oh god, Bucky Barnes is in love. A feeling he has not felt since maybe 1942? when he took that red headed girl to coney island, but even that could never compare to the feelings swelling in his chest now. Being in love was scary– so, so scary. But with you warm and smiling in his arms, it was hard for Bucky to think of anything else.

“Bucky.” you wined, Bucky pulled away just enough to see your face. Your eyelids flutter in tiredness, a haze filtered across your eyeballs. “Are you obliged to stay for anything?”

“Not that I know of, doll. You want to get out of here?” Bucky spoke so smoothly, so flirtatious. He felt younger and more confident.

You nodded lazily, and Bucky looked around to see the crowd had begun to disperse. People hung round and talked, most were slightly tipsy. The craze of politicians and reporters settled. Bucky's hand smooth from your shoulder to your hand, ready to pull you into him and guide you home.

But his hands grazed the small cuts on your palm, he tensed. Gladly, you didn't notice. Bucky had one more thing to do before he left.

“Sweetheart, I have to go ask Steve something real quick, meet me in the lobby and i'll take you home?”

“Everything okay?” you asked, Bucky hoped you didn’t pick up on his… scheming. Flashing a smile, “of course, I’ll be quick.”

Nodding again, your heels echoed away from Bucky, the dress train cascading behind you beautifully. You reminded Bucky of some sort of angel.

A slight scowl fell upon Bucky's face as his blue eyes searched the ground, he found Steve with ease. Bucky had some sort of sixth sense when it came to finding Steve, ever since they were just two pre-teens getting lost in the city, Bucky was always the one having to search and rescue him from large crowds. The added height now just made it even easier.

His steps were heavy and with purpose, finally approaching the blonde. Standing close to Sam, Bruce and Clint. Good.

“Hey, buck. Where did your girl go?” Steve asked, all eyes now on him as he joined the small circle. Bucky's ears tinted pink towards the mention of you being his - he hoped you'd want that.

“We’re about to leave, she's getting tired.” Bucky replied. Steve opened his mouth to respond, small talk maybe, or a short goodbye and a pat on the back but Bucky was already onto other things.

Bucky turned to the timid scientist, getting Bruce’s attention. “Hey, banner! Who was the guy that y/n was with earlier? Looked french.”

Somewhat of a rhetorical question, Bucky kinda knew of the guy, he knew enough from what he heard from you. Steve was watching from the side with realization soon growing on his face, but he didn't speak a word.

“He's a scientist that Tony and I were wanting to collaborate with, I think he is still here if you're looking for him. At the bar I think.” Bruce replied.

“Great, thank you.” Bucky forced out a half hearted smile and began to turn away from the group. Steve grabbed onto his shoulder before he could heave.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked, he knew Bucky better than most and recognized the off look in his eyes. Steve grew concerned.

Bucky looked at the others in the group, pulling Steve close and hoped none of them picked up the words he whispered into his ear. “Some punk tried to come onto her like a creeper, shook her up real good, talked badly about the team and kept trying to come onto her.”

“And you plan to do what?” Steve knew the answer to his own question.

Bucky gave Steve a knowing look. Bucky was clearly growing annoyed and Steve could tell when he started talking like it was the 40s again, strong Brooklyn accent coming out with it. “Gonna teach the fella’ a lesson.”

Steve exhaled, slowly letting go of Bucky's shoulder. his eyes fell onto the bar as he found the man. steve didn’t object.

It’ll be okay if he is a little late, right?

tag list: @matchat3a @sebsgirl71479 @heavenswrld @ivywasmaroon @nt-multi-fandom @michaefuckinglangdon @fand0mskullfa1ry @lilliarussell @athenabarnes @almosttoopizza @genlovesdcb @i-l-y-3000 @timotheesrealgf

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #marvel #marvel fanfiction #bucky fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky imagine #fic rec #fic update

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ginnsbaker · 10 months

Note

Wow what a fucking chapter my heart is so sad

Wanda please stop missing your therapy it is wa doing you so much good. But also im glad she put her foot down with y/n because we all know she couldn’t go down that road again.

Natasha. The way she said they deserve each other. Heartbreaking. The whole encounter was just sad. It did spark like my protective instincts tho when she asked wanda why she couldn’t stay away, cos uno I actually think on the whole she did. Well not at the start but certainly as time went on. Would nat have preferred wanda didn’t call reader about sparky?? Just saying if something happened to my fur baby and no one told me heads would fucking roll. So like she can’t really be mad about that. i think she’s just full of anger towards reader to wanda maybe to yelena for getting involved and maybe herself for not being able to do anything really and shes just expressing that anger in all the wrong ways.

The whole bar thing, the fact reader couldn’t sleep with someone else because it felt like betraying wanda is just sad because it makes that wound deeper cos they couldn’t do it to wanda now and yet somehow wanda did it while they were married just a very sad parallel.

And oh boy the thing i have been waiting for. My first thoughts are reader is gonna do something stupid and wanda is going to be so mad. I get why pietro has done what he has he doesn’t want to see wanda in the same position again. He wants to protect her and its easy for me to say he should trust her because shes been making good progress and put a stop to it however when she’s been missing therapy sessions its understandable why pietro doesnt trust wanda’s judgement and just general ability to look after herself and do what she needs to do for her own sake. Even if I understand pietros point I don’t think wanda’s going to be happy about it i think she’ll feel that it wasn’t his choice to make but at the same time y/n needed to know and was wanda ever going to tell? I’m not sure. Reader im worried about, already incredibly unstable im not sure whats going to happen. I think it can go a number of ways. Maybe distance from wanda or maybe confront wanda or god forbid they’re gonna end up doing something incredibly stupid that gets them hospitalised. I do think they needed to know tho. And they definitely need therapy.

I hope you know this is going to be on my mind for the rest of the day and im gonna be counting down until part 2. Im not sure how things are gonna improve from here or who (other than reader and wanda) things are gonna improve for maybe nat? Maybe yelena and kate? Im so ready

-🧃

HIIIII!

Wanda is just taking a break from therapy because she knows therapist will tell her to concentrate on what's best for her but sometimes... we can't ignore the nagging feeling that someone needs us, yknow?

"Just saying if something happened to my fur baby and no one told me heads would fucking roll" -> you know, i think people who don't own pets will NEVER understand how critical it is to be informed about your pet especially if this pet is the child of divorce!

we will see tonight the aftermath of R finding out

things are going to improve from here. i think i will throw my laptop across the room if i hurt these character any further

there will be closure for our pairs :)

thank you as always for your wonderful, wonderful commentaries! whenever i read your thoughts, i always go like this:

#🧃 anon #ilgoss asks

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blackkwidowed · 4 years

Text

Caught in the Middle

Requested:

hi love! would you do one where reader and nat are not together just yet, but reader catches nat masturbating in her room while moaning reader's name, and things escalate from there? (lots of dirty talk please i need it) thanks a lot ❤

Summary: simple. Nat gets caught fucking herself and it goes better than she expected.

Rating: E. 18+, OBVIOUSLY. Smut, masturbation, Nat literally comes on your leg, sub!nat. obviously. dirty talk as requested. maybe a little mention of light bondage. with a belt.

Word Count: 2,408

Yes I know, it’s been a while. Sorry. Here’s something to make it up to you.

Friday nights always mean girls nights for you and Natasha.

Except, tonight it didn’t go quite the way you thought it would.

Typically, you’d just order takeout and watch movies, or you’d drink and play music and talk absolute shit for hours late into the night. Naturally, you’d expected the same again from your roommate tonight.

That certainly did not happen.

Arriving home from work, you expected to say your usual hello to Natasha before jumping straight into the shower, but she’s nowhere to be seen in your shared apartment, until you reach her bedroom.

The door is ajar, just slightly. Natasha is lying on her bed, you can see the bottom of her legs through the little gap in the door. You peek inside, and freeze.

The sight isn't something you expected, it’s not something you ever thought would occur, but you’d be absolutely stupid to ever turn away from it.

Natasha is laid back against the pillows. She has a tshirt on, one that definitely belonged to you once upon a time. She has no pants on, those beautiful thighs that you can't help but take a glance at on a normal day are bare to the world.

Most important of all though, is the hand shoved in her underwear.

You should be looking away, she’s your roommate, but you’re so incredibly aroused by the sight before you that you cannot possibly move a muscle.

Her head is thrown back against the pillows, and the desire to sink your teeth into the side of her neck is an urge you barely manage to suppress. And those soft little moans leaving her lips as her fingers move under her panties.

It’s a sight and you can't look away.

Another breathy sigh of what sounds like your name brings you back to Earth, and suddenly your focus shifts a little.

Why did Natasha leave the door open?

Your answer comes quicker than expected.

“Well,” she breathes, letting you know she’s aware of your presence. “What are you waiting for?”

You think for a moment, more so because you don't know how to respond. She looks directly at you, winking lewdly and bucking her hips against her hand. Christ.

You push the door open a little wider, choosing to lean against the doorframe. Natasha raises an eyebrow at you with a smirk. “Like what you see?”

You nod. “Maybe a little too much.”

“I haven't been reading you wrong, then.”

“It appears that way,” you mutter quietly. “Did you purposely make me catch you?”

The look she gives you, that downright sinful, lusty gaze that she gives you, is your answer. “Of course I did. Figured it was the best way to get my message across.”

You chuckle softly, moving to perch at the end of the bed. She watches you intently, attempting to observe and guess your next move.

Your fingers find her ankle, skimming across the skin before moving up her lower leg.

“So,” she breathes. “Is the fact that you’re touching me a good thing?”

You move again, this time to kneel between her spread thighs. Natasha's hand is still shoved in her panties, you can see it moving against her clit. She hasn't stopped touching herself this whole time, and you’ve definitely been a little too focused on the quiet gasps falling from her lips every so often.

Your hand covers hers, halting her movements. “It depends on how much more you’ll allow me to touch.”

Natasha has the decency to blush slightly when you add an extra bit of pressure. Though she doesn't answer you verbally. Instead, she removes her hand, lifting her fingers to your lips, daring you to taste her.

You don’t hesitate.

Natasha groans, and her fingers drop from your mouth to curl around your wrist. Her touch is soft, gentle, but spiking hot.

She guides your hand in an attempt to slip it under her panties, but this time you stop her. Instead, you take back some control, hooking your fingers under to pull them off her and throw them somewhere you don't care enough to look.

You crawl to hover over her, bringing your lips to the side of her neck to kiss hot skin. It starts soft, but she tastes so good you can’t resist trailing your tongue up her neck, light and so seductive you feel Natasha’s hips bucking already.

“I think you’ll let me do whatever I want to you,” you whisper. “I think you’ll beg me to do whatever I want to you if I make you wait long enough.”

She groans, hands clawing at your hips and fingers slipping under your belt for something to grasp and bring her back to reality.

“I think you’re already starting to lose it.” You mutter, sinking your teeth softly below her ear. “Am I right?”

You feel the nod, and you cannot physically suppress a smirk. Your lips press to her cheek, then because you can’t wait any longer, they press to Natasha’s quickly after.

Natasha tastes like liquid gold, and you can’t get enough.

Her hands rest on your hips, pulling you against her as you groan against her mouth. “Spread your legs a little wider for me.”

She hisses, but does as she’s told to your surprise, opening her thighs and increasing the gap between them for you to settle comfortably. You were expecting her to fight back, but she’s a wreck under your touch already. Not that you’re complaining of course.

She doesn't stop kissing you, only to take a shallow breath when your fingers graze her clit.

“God,” you breathe. “You’re so wet.”

Natasha’s hips buck hard and the whimper is loud. You need to hear it again, so with a final glance at her you kiss her again, slipping your tongue past her lips and forcing her hips down into the mattress with a tight grip.

“Don’t move, sweetheart.”

You don’t see Natasha’s smirk, not when you’ve already moved to sink your teeth into the side of her neck, but you do feel her leg move to hook around your waist, bringing you closer. The metal of your belt is cold and harsh against her abdomen and the sensation causes her to hiss, hands moving to sink her fingers into your back through your shirt.

You huff. “Thought I told you not to move.”

She laughs, though you pick up on the nerve in her tone. “You really thought I’d listen to that?”

Your hands push her harder against the bed, thumbs digging against her hips enough to probably leave a bruise on either side, but she doesn't mind, you know she doesn’t. She wasn't exactly quiet about her own sex life or her kinks before the current predicament. You know her a little bit too well, you think.

You snap.

Shoving your thigh between her legs, she groans, unable to buck her hips for friction from the level of force you’re using to pin her to the bed.

She’s so wet, you can feel it on your thigh; the warmth, the desperation. You need a taste. Right now, you’re struggling to think of anything that could be better than having your lips around her clit, but there’s time for that later.

You’ll give it to her though, she is trying. She’s just not good at it, keeping still. You loosen your grip a little before deciding to let go completely, instead letting your hands wander up her-your-shirt.

Your tongue finds her pretty pink nipples before you can even think about the idea, it’s an urge you can’t repress and certainly one that Natasha seems overly pleased about if her loud groan is anything to go off.

“You’re so gorgeous,” you murmur. “Gonna cover you in my marks.”

“Oh, God, please.”

You grin, sucking over a mark you’re creating on her breast.

“Y/N, I-” She pauses, takes a second to breathe. “I need to move.”

You know what she means, and the thought alone makes you breathe a moan against her neck. You trail lighter kisses up to her ear, nibbling underneath at the skin. “So do it.”

Natasha, you learn, has no restraint at all. Her movements against your thigh are firm, they’re sure. She’s chasing what she wants, hoping you won’t bite back again and put her in her place. You can’t resist.

Her fingers pull at your shirt, reaching under and around to grasp at skin. She’s definitely planning to leave some of her marks on you, and you couldn't possibly say no to that. You pause for a mere second, Natasha still bucking against your thigh, to throw your shirt over your head. Natasha keens, and her hands return to your shoulders.

You can feel the pain a little more and it’s wonderful, knowing the evidence of Natasha is going to be there for some time. She’s loud, God. She’s so fucking loud, whimpering and moaning with her eyes forced shut and her head thrown back.

You don’t kiss her, because that’d silence her, and that’s the last thing you want when she sounds that sexy.

“Such a needy, pretty little pussy,” you growl. “Look at you, you can’t even control yourself. Dirty girl.”

She whines. It’s getting harder for her to steady her rhythm so you help her out, gripping onto her hips again and guiding them with authority.

“I’m so fucking close, please,” Natasha breathes. “I need you to fuck me.”

You chuckle. “I am fucking you, technically.”

“No, I mean-”

“You want me to fill you up huh? Is that what you’re asking for, baby?”

Natasha’s groan is your answer.

“Later,” you whisper. “Don’t be so greedy.”

Her breath hitches and for a second, she goes silent. You know the signs of orgasm though, so you push against her once more, and she’s falling apart all over your thigh.

Natasha slips into Russian when she comes, on the verge of screaming something you don’t really catch between all the heavy breathing and moaning, but the thought alone has you even more uncomfortable between your own thighs.

Before she’s even calmed a little bit, her fingers are at your belt and pulling, a plea to see more of you. She wants to get off again, she needs to. She’s been dreaming of this for months, and truthfully so have you. You’re certainly nowhere near finished with her and you find it cute that for a split second, she thought you were done.

“Y/N?”

“Mm?” You hum, rocking your thigh lightly between her legs.

“Can we do that again?”

You laugh, leaning to kiss her. “I haven't even finished with you yet and you’re already begging for more?”

She rolls her eyes, lacing her fingers through your hair as she meets your lips again, slipping her tongue into your mouth.

She kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before. It’s cliche, sure, but it’s also the truth. You’re hellbent on the truth at the best of times. You scare yourself, because it’s as if you don't want to be kissed by anyone else ever again.

“At least let me touch you before you have your way with me again,” she grumbles when you pull away from her mouth. She knows where you’re headed, she could see the need to taste her all over your face. But she wants you first, she wants to feel you come apart too.

You ponder for a moment, before smirking. “Okay, fine.”

She arches a brow in surprise. “Just like that?”

You laugh, standing from the bed to pull your belt from your jeans. “It’s not always that easy.”

“No?” She questions. The sarcasm in her tone almost makes you change your mind.

You shake your head. “Wrists together.”

“Excuse me?”

“Now.” You command. Her eyes travel between yours and the belt in your hand, and suddenly it clicks. She grins, and does as she’s told. Her excitement for what you’re about to do is kind of adorable.

“So,” you breathe. “I’m gonna put those filthy hands of yours out of the way, and because you asked so nicely-”

Natasha’s pupils are blown, because she thinks she knows what you’re going to say.

“Because you’re such a good girl for me, right?” Your finger tilts her chin up, and you can’t help a smug grin when you see the dark purple marks littering her neck, her breasts.

She nods. You shake your head.

“Answer me.”

“No,” she bats her lashes. “I think we both know I’m a bad girl.”

It’s laughable how much it sounds like a bad porno in Natasha’s bedroom tonight, but with the way she looks at you like she wants you to devour her whole, it doesn't matter.

You smile, softer than before. “Right answer.”

You push her back on the bed so she’s laying flat and you rid yourself of everything to match her. With only the belt in your hand, you straddle her, grinding just the right way across her stomach, so she can feel how wet she’s made you. You groan, your head lolling back. You feel a hand on your hip. The touch is different than yours, gentler. But still beautifully firm.

She hums in delight, carding her fingers over your stomach and down, to tease between your thighs. You’re sensitive, you can already feel that without Nat touching you that you’re so damn sensitive from the build up of what you got home to. A brush across your clit though, and you’re the one desperate for more.

You reach for her wrists, kissing the inside of them briefly, an act of affection that melts Natasha more than she cares to admit.

Your voice drops to a whisper as you lean to her ear. “Is it okay if I sit on that gorgeous face of yours?”

Natasha groans louder than you’ve heard in the last few minutes. You take it as a yes, and the hunger raging in her eyes the second you go to move makes you shift a little quicker.

She wets her lips with her tongue, but before she can get her mouth on you, you pause her.

“Wait,” you say. She grumbles.

“What now?”

You manage to stop yourself from forcing her on her knees in that moment. If it wasn't for her tongue being inches away from your clit, you would have.

“I brought the belt for a reason, hands off.”

“Oh you know me so well.”

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #Black Widow #black widow x reader #black widow imagine #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #marvel #marvel headcanon #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #tag: smut #filth #guess who added the wrong gif

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winchester90210 · 4 years

Text

The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x13: Slumber Party

Rewrite Masterlist

Read the previous chapter here!

Chapter Summary: Junk food is had, secrets are exposed, and flings are revealed...

Warnings: mentions of sex, swearing, one minor make out scene.

Word count: 2,900

My work is not to be reposted and/or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is fine and encouraged!!)

The flashback is in italics.

Feedback is incredibly appreciated! :)

A/N: This is one of my favorite episodes! Hope you guys enjoy it! Sorry about the scheduling issue, next week should go as planned. Feedback on this chapter would be wonderful! :)

"Are you sure this thing isn't a slumber party?" Kelly criticizes. You open your locker as your friends begin to bicker on both sides of you. Something akin to petty surround sound.

"I told you! It's a night of female bonding-- a chance for us to get together and talk about what's important," Brenda explains.

"But we're doing it in our PJs," Donna interjects.

"Well, that would make sense unless you prefer to sleep in your clothes," You say, "Bren, I think it's a great idea. It could be fun!"

"Can we invite some guys to come over later? I mean, after we've talked and bonded and everything?" Kelly asks.

"Kelly, I thought what we wanted was an evening to ourselves where we don't have to think about guys, talk about guys, or worry about what we look like 'cause some guy is around. Isn't that what we said?" She nods, rolling her eyes. "So what's the problem?"

"Nothing!" She leans against the lockers, "Actually... there is one thing. I kinda made plans with this other friend of mine, Amanda Pacer. You don't know her, she's a senior, but we have been friends forever."

"So bring her," you suggest, taking out your history book and shutting your locker.

"Well... I know this may sound stupid, but I don't want her to think this is a slumber party... It's not a slumber party, right?"

"Brenda! Kelly, Y/N, and Donna are here to bond with you!" Brandon shouts up the stairs, laden in his all-white Peach Pit uniform. He looked so cute, this "no guy" rule was pointless. Especially when the said guys looked like that. "Hey Y/N/N," he kisses you softly, pulling you closer to him.

"Hey," you mumble. He gives you a hard, dizzying, coffee-flavored kiss as he slowly backs into the front door. You hum against him happily, "I'll pay you to stay, I'm serious. Cold hard cash." He grins, slipping his warm hands under the sides of your jacket, holding onto your hips gently.

"As much as I'd like to, I promised Nat I'd pick up this shift."

"Tell him you have other business to attend to. Like getting me out of this slumber party. Nat'll understand," you plead jokingly. One more soft, sweet kiss and he lets go of you. "Brandon..." he smiles at you adoringly and turns towards the other two girls waiting in the foyer, pretending that they weren't just watching everything you two were doing.

"Have fun, ladies," he swings the front door open and leaves as quickly as possible, knowing that if he stayed any longer you'd actually end up convincing him to stay. As one Walsh exits, another enters as Brenda comes down the stairs wearing a long, plaid nightshirt. But before she's even fully down the stairs, Kelly starts to complain.

"Brenda, this is really weird."

"Kelly, we are going to have fun! Where's Amanda?"

"Oh, she's coming later," She fidgets awkwardly, "She uh, wanted to bring her own car in case..."

"Something better came along," Donna interjects.

"I think this might be a little too down-home for her."

"Kelly, we're not going on hayrides," you cut in.

"Okay, we have chocolate ice cream,vanilla ice cream, chocolate syrup, and whipped cream!" Brenda announces as you pour the doritos into a bowl. It's a scramble of hands and junk food as you all grab what you want.

"Do you have any other cookies?" Kelly asks.

"Yeah! I think they're in the cupboard," Brenda nods.

"Oh, I love cookies smushed in ice cream!" Andrea beams, "it's the best."

"You ever put popcorn in ice cream?" Donna wonders. The group groans in disgust. "Hey, it's really good!" You hop on the counter next to where Donna is and grab a chip

"Well, there's microwave popcorn in a bowl over there, knock yourself out," Brenda giggles, handing you your bowl of chocolate ice cream.

"Thanks," you smile, "Hey, Amanda, what do you want? Vanilla or chocolate?" You glance over to Kelly's friend as you help the girls put together their sundaes, and she's sitting alone at the kitchen table with her arms crossed, pouting.

"Nothing for me, thanks."

"Oh, come on, Amanda. You're gonna make us all look like pigs!" Kelly exclaims.

"You said it, I didn't," Amanda ostracizes. The room goes radio silent, but instead of bumming out the room, Brenda starts snorting like a pig at her while the rest of you laugh and pick up your junk food.

"Donna, that is so gross!" Kelly laughs, watching as her best friend shows vanilla ice cream and popcorn into her mouth all in one spoon. Your cheeks already hurt from laughing, but you couldn't stop smiling.

"I know, but I like it! I don't know why, but I do, okay?"

"This is something you can never do with guys," Kelly smirks, piling on the whipped cream to her sundae.

"What?" Andrea asks.

"Pig out!" The five of you giggle as Brenda turns to Amanda, who's once again decided to remove herself from the group.

"Do you eat on dates, Amanda?"

"Never. But I always order something expensive," her voice is sharp, and she's slumped back in the white chair in the far corner of the room.

"Why?"

"To let them know I'm worth it," she shrugs.

"I knew it was over for me and Steve when I started pigging out everytime we went out to eat," she scoffs.

"He never took you out to eat, Kelly," Donna giggles, and then everyone, (excluding Ms. Grump Pants, of course) bursts out in laughter.

"I am in... sugar shock." Brenda sighs, resting her head on your shoulder as you lean back onto the couch, smushed up against the other girls.

"I feel like I just gained ten pounds," Andrea groans.

"So, what do you guys want to do now?" Kelly ponders.

"Ooh, lets rent Pretty Woman!" Donna suggests.

"Donna, you've seen that movie 300 times," Kelly snickers.

"It's dependable. You know, sometimes I think about running away and becoming a hooker on Hollywood boulevard," she puts her fist up to her heart, fawning, "just so I can meet Richard Gere."

"There's only one problem... you're not Julia Roberts."

"Look, we're not going to rent a movie... or become prostitutes," you tease Donna, "The whole point of this was so we could talk. Andrea, go get your Ouija board."

You settle back down onto the couch after coming very close to crapping your pants because of what you thought was the Ouija board... which just ended up being David Silver sneaking creepy pictures of you guys through the window. You breathe deeply as your heart rate settles down. Amanda checks her watch and scoffs.

"It's after midnight."

"What, do frat boys turn into pumpkins?" Brenda bites sarcastically.

"No, they turn into drunken slobs." You sure made my night," she complains.

"Amanda, you didn't have to come!" Kelly barks.

"What? And miss all the fun? The party games?" She laughs sardonically, "I don't want to leave anymore. Everyone's ruined my night," she takes off her beige coat and throws it on the chair. "It's my turn to ruin their's. Okay everyone. I've got a game if you're up for it. Skeletons in the closet. Everyone sits in a circle, and the person in the middle has to answer all their questions as honestly as possible. The kind of question is up to you, whatever you feel like asking. Of course, the better the question, the better the game."

"Go ahead. Ask me anything," Andrea smiles nervously.

"Why does everybody call you 'Awwwndrea?'" Amanda starts.

"Excuse me?"

"What are you, British? I mean... Awwwwndrea?" Amanda guffaws.

"That is pretty pretentious," Kelly adds.

"Kelly," you warn her.

"It's pronounced both ways. But An-dree-uh is a little boring and common. I like to be different."

"Good answer," you smile.

"So, am I through?"

Amanda studies her carefully, "No. Not yet... have you ever slept with a guy before?" What the hell was wrong with this girl?

"That's... a little personal. But uh... no. No, I have never slept with a guy before. Yet."

"Well, if you could sleep with any guy in school, who would it be?"

Andrea chuckles anxiously, looking down at the ground. "Come on, you guys. I can't answer that..."

"Yeah, you can. You can trust us, Andrea... well," you glance at Amanda, "most of us, at least."

"Uh... I don't know. I guess... I guess uh..."

"Brandon?" Kelly cuts in.

"What?" You glare at Kelly.

"No." Andrea answers, "No. Not Brandon. No... it would have to be Hans Fleischman. He is this incredibly gorgeous lifeguard who pulled me out of the water when I was stung by a jellyfish at Zuma beach last summer." You adjust in your seat uncomfortably while the Kelly snickers in disbelief at Andrea. "Hey, what is this? Brandon is just a friend."

"Wait-- wait a second. Is this the same Brandon that's all over her everyday?" Amanda laughs out, "Sweetie... get a life. You like him. Everybody already knows." You sure didn't. "And he likes her." You don't even dare to look up from your thumbs. What the hell were you supposed to do in this situation? Sure, you encouraged her to answer it but you didn't think it would be Brandon. You would feel weird comforting her, but you still feel weird just sitting there and letting her get harrassed.

"Okay... okay. So it-- it is Brandon." Her eyes well up as she stutters through her words. The room is silent for a moment before you hop to your feet.

"Well, this has been a blast," you huff, "I'm gonna go get a soda. Anyone else have plans to seduce my boyfriend? Kelly? Donna? Hey, how about you, Amanda?"

After Kelly's turn, to which she described her traumatic first sexual experience, and Brenda's where she describes how she betrayed her best friend back in Minneapolis... you were really starting to hate this game.

"Come on, Donna, you've gotta have some secrets," Kelly encourages.

"I don't! I tell you guys everything!"

"If you could go out with any guy in school, who would it be?!" Brenda asks. Let me guess, Brandon?

"Greg Houseman. You know that, she never stops talking about him," Kelly sighs.

"What is the most dishonest thing you've ever done?" You ask, curling your legs up to your chest. She pauses to think for a moment.

"Nothing..."

"Didn't anybody in your family go insane or something? Anything?"

"No... we're all really normal," she shrugs. The thing was, she's right. You've been to her house. Her mother is great, her dad's really nice, her house is perfect... she was completely normal.

"You know what your problem is, Donna?" Amanda prompts, "Your life is totally boring. Anyone who can't dredge up one secret about themselves is either lying or a total zero."

"That is not true," you snap.

"Why, what are you hiding, Y/N/N?"

"Nothing, Amanda."

"Oh, really? That's not what I hear... or what I've seen."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Get in the circle," she smirks, this time deviously. Dangerously. You follow her orders, moving from the floor to the chair.

"What's your favorite movie?" Brenda asks.

"Rebel without a Cause."

"What's your favorite color?"

"Baby pink," you watch Amanda out of the corner of your eye, getting more and more frustrated at the boring questions.

"Oh, come on! You guys are such a drag!" She leans forward, smirking, "What's going on with you and Dylan McKay?" You look at her confused.

"He's dating her," you gesture towards Brenda, "Not me." Amanda shakes her head immediately, as if she knew you were going to say that.

"Do I need to dumb it down for you, sweetheart? What happened at the Bel Age a few months ago, y'know, when you jumped him?"

"What?" Brenda says quietly, her voice breaking. She looks at you as tears start to brim her eyes.

"Bren, wait a second--"

"Did you sleep with my boyfriend?" Your jaw goes agape and you laugh sourly in shock.

"You really think I'd sleep with Dylan?!" A pit of guilt was forming in your stomach as you tensed up.

"I don't know what to think, Y/N! All I know is you two spend an awful lot of time together alone and now I'm hearing that you pounced on him!" she snaps. Oh my god. You couldn't believe this was happening.

"That's not what happened, Bren!"

"Fine!" She scoffs bitterly, "what happened, then?"

"So, I was at the Bel Age a few months ago, Brandon had just gotten the job at the Peach Pit..."

"I don't wanna go home yet," you told him. The Porsche rumbled as Dylan warmed it up. He raised an eyebrow at you as he leaned back.

"Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere you want to take me." Those would be words you would later come to regret. Asking a hot guy with a leather jacket and a Porsche to have his way with you? Bold move. Dumb move, too. He could've taken you anywhere. Baja, the abandoned elementary school, anywhere. But where did he take you? The Bel Age hotel.

When you walked in he popped the radio on and you sat down as a Gloria Estefan song played quietly throughout the hotel room. Dylan was over at the wet bar, pouring himself a glass of scotch. Looking back, it was the only time you'd ever seen him drink something in moderation.

"You drink?" He asked, looking back at you.

"I could start," you shrug. And that was the first of many bad decisions you'd make in that hotel room. He grabs a second pint glass, but you weren't paying much attention to him as he clanked around, trying to pour you something that wouldn't make you gag.

He hands you the concoction and sits down beside you, his legs against yours. A little closer than normal, but you didn't think anything of it. Fidgeting anxiously, you began to drink whatever it was he gave you. It was new, being alone with him like that. Sure, you could hang out with him in groups but... just you and him? You tilted the glass back, letting the smooth and surprisingly digestible liquor flow down your throat until there was nothing left in your glass. This stuff was supposed kill anxiety, right? He eyes you up. Peculiarly, but not critically.

"Thirsty?"

"Yeah, you could say that." He would continue to fill your glass, and his own, for that matter, all night. He'd put on his Road House VHS tape somewhere in the middle. And you were watching it. You really were. But as the movie went on longer, you got closer. A fairly innocent movie night (the first of many) turned into a night full of regrets.

His hand was on your leg right before the first kiss happened, thumb drawing dizzying little circles on your thigh as he watched the movie. You're sure if you showed any signs of discomfort he would've stopped-- that fact gave you peace in the moment. But the last thing you wanted him to do was stop. So he didn't. And neither did you. It wasn't until later, when his lips were trailing down your jaw, hands pushing your dress up, and his own white t-shirt was somewhere on the floor next to you. That's when it came to a crashing halt. Removing his lips from your neck, he sighed.

"What is it?" You asked. The air between you two was intense, sensitive. One move and he'd be back on top of you, starting the cycle all over again.

"What about Minnesota?" He slides you off of his lap in one swift motion, but his hand was lingering on your hip.

"What about Brandon?"

"Come on, you've seen how he is around you. I don't want to get in the way of that, mess anything up."

"You're not messing anything up. If Brandon was interested he would've made a move already."

Cut to you, current day, girlfriend of the mentioned boy, "Hah... whoops."

"But either way... this is a bad idea, isn't it?" You sheepishly picked up the shirt from the floor and handed it back to him. "So," you cleared your throat, "Friends?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, fiddling with the shirt in his hand. The energy in the room was different then, awkward. Laughable. But friendly.

"And that was it," you finish, "We're friends. Kissing him now would be no different than kissing Donna or Kelly."

"You wouldn't have kissed him if you didn't like him!"

"I do like him. As a friend," you plead, "Bren, I've been supporting you guys since day one, I would never do something to hurt you." You search her eyes for something. A little bit of waivering, forgiveness, pity. Anything at this point. Stupid Amanda and her stupid skeleton game. Brenda avoids your gaze for a moment.

"And nothing's happened since then?" She chokes out. You see her shoulders rise and fall as she takes in a shaky breath.

"Nothing's happened since then."

She lets out a deep sigh, almost out of relief, but tears are still threatening to spill from her eyes "Okay... I guess I understand." As she says that, it's like every muscle in your body lets go of the stress it had been holding for the past few weeks. You really hate secrets.

"Uh, Bren... I have a confession to make," Kelly pipes up from the side of the room, "After you started going out with Dylan I tried to get a date with him." Oh shit.

Taglist: @be-patient-be-good @mpmarypoppins @bevelyhills90210 @blueoz @harleylilo88 @princess-ghost-alien @hueycat2004 @l4life @keepcalm-and-beyou

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