#good hustle the Avengers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

arlana-likes-to-write · 3 months

Note

Loved the 3 part of monet issue❤️. I thought about this. How about the doctor that experimented on reader became obsessed with us, infiltrated the compound as a new doctor and required that we go to observation, there she starts to do things again. I know it’s a little vague but that was what I could come with. See you and I hope you have a good day and take care of yourself.❤️❤️

-💣

My Beautiful Creation

Finally Part of the Monet Issues AU

Warnings: stalking, kidnapping, gun violence, swearing, forced experiment, death, killing, panic attacks, guilt, pregnancy, protective Avengers,

Word Count: 7.3k

New York City was known as the city that never slept. So many people (sometimes too many people, in your opinion) came from so many walks of life. Everyone came to this city to chase a dream. As you walked to a busy sidewalk, you were just another fish swimming upstream and weaving through people on the phone, listening to music, or performing on the street corner. There was always something to look at: massive skyscrapers, fights on the street, or trying to pick somewhere to eat because of the million and one options. So it was odd that you felt eyes on you. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. However, when you turned around, no one was there. It had to be your nerves since you’ve only been back in the city for two months. It would take time for you to feel safe since HYDRA altered your life.

The first step to returning your life to normal was meeting with Taylor and a few other friends for lunch. Opening the door to the small hole in the wall, you welcomed the quiet and peaceful environment. It was a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the sidewalk. You saw Taylor in the corner, and you pointed to the table. The hostess nodded, and you walked over to them. “Look who finally is here to grace us with her presence,” your friend, Brooke, teased. She stood up and did a slight bow. “The princess has returned.” You punched her shoulder at her joke attempt, but it made you smile.

“Leave her alone, Brookie,” Emma said. “She’s been busy being an Avenger or something.”

“More like fucking one!” Brooke and Taylor high-fived across the table.

“Are we done?” You asked. “Because I will leave.” Emma grabbed your hand and forced you into the empty seat next to Taylor. You met Emma and Brooke through Taylor. While you went to college out of state, she went to Columbia. Brooke and Emma were her freshman-year roommates, and they were used to you staying over every weekend.

“We love you, Egghead,” Taylor kissed your cheek.

“And we missed you,” Emma added. You missed them, too. Lunch was spent picking on one another, catching up, and filling your stomach with cheap but good Italian food.

“So, are we going to be invited to the wedding?” Brooke asked, looking at you. You raised your eyebrows. “You and Natasha. Aren’t you guys like engaged?” You chuckled.

“Not even close,” you said. “We only have been dating for a few months officially. I doubt she would even want that,” Taylor scuffed, shaking her head.

“Have you talked about it?” Emma asked before you could question Taylor.

“Well, no,” you admitted. “There has been a lot going on.” Taylor chuckled. “Do you have something to say?” Your best friend pinched your side, and you glared at her.

“Natasha looks at you like you’ve hung the moon and painted the stars in the sky,” you tried to hide your embarrassment by picking at the pasta in front of you. “She would 100% be down to marry you.”

When lunch was over, you paid for the meal at the front. As you waited for your card, you felt that eerie sensation that prickled at the back of your neck. Your gaze darted around the restaurant’s other patrons to find the source of your uneasiness, but you couldn’t figure it out.

“Hey,” you were pulled away by Taylor’s voice. She was holding your card and frowning. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you smiled and took the card from her. “Let’s get out of here.” Was it a trick of your mind, or was someone watching your every step?

“Get off of me!” You gasped, trying to push Yelena off of you. Her body became dead weight. “You are so annoying,” you tickled her sides, and she quickly got off you. Her eyes were wide in fear.

“That was dirty,” she sat next to you while Kate and Peter joined you on the couch, hands filled with snacks and drinks. You rolled your eyes and stood up to help them.

“I thought you were supposed to help them,” the blonde shrugged and grabbed a beer from Kate. It was routine for you to find yourself with the trio when you were at the compound. You liked training with Wanda and Vision, eating dinner with Tony and Pepper, and cuddling up with your girlfriend. Since the ‘I love you’ confession, you both grew more confident in the relationship in front of the team. Movie nights were spent in each other’s arms. Natasha would grab you by the waist and kiss you, much to the disdain of Yelena and your father. The business was going well, your relationship with your father was better than ever, and life was good.

“You bitch!” You threw a piece of popcorn at Peter. “I can’t believe you stole my star.”

“I picked random!” He defended.

“Kate has four stars?! You stoke from me, and now I have zero.” You heard laughter from the kitchen and saw Tony. “I’ll be right back. Don’t start the mini-game without me,” you climbed over the back of the couch and walked over to him. He was in a meeting when you arrived at the compound.

“Hi, squirt,” he hugged you. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” you watched him fill a mug with the leftover coffee in the pot. “You should cut back on the caffeine.” He shook his head.

“You should like Pepper.”

“The woman in your life is usually right,” the CEO squeezed your shoulder as she walked past you. Accepting Pepper as your father’s girlfriend turned-wife was hard for you. You saw her as someone that was trying to replace your mom. Another person is stealing Tony’s attention. So you treated her as a business associate but ran in the same circle. It became impossible to ignore her, and soon, you began to look for her at every Gala or event, finding a strange sense of peace from the older woman. “Have you asked her yet?”

“No, I was busy getting yelled at by my questionable habits,” you and Pepper rolled your eyes. “Are you free to have dinner with us?”

“Of course,” you smiled.

“Mini game time,” Yelena yelled from the couch. “Get your ass over here.” You flipped the blonde off, told the couple you could see them later, and joined your friends back on the couch.

“You’re pregnant?!” You gasped, putting the glass of wine that Pepper paired with the dinner she made. It was just you, Tony, and Pepper in their section of the compound. “Have you told anyone?” Pepper shook her head.

“We wanted to tell you first,” your father took his wife’s hand.

“And you are okay with this?” You heard the worry in his voice. Why wouldn’t you be okay with this?

“I mean, the idea of you having unprotected sex kind of gives me,” you faked a gag. Tony glared at you, but Pepper covered her mouth as she laughed. “But I’m so happy for you! I can’t wait to be an older sister!” When dinner was finished, you helped Pepper clean the dishes while Tony took a phone call from Rhodey.

“He was worried,” she glanced at him to ensure he was still on the phone. “About how you would reach the news.

“Really?” You questioned, drying a few plates and putting them away. “Why?” She sighed.

“I think he was worried you would feel like he was replacing you,” you frowned. “I know it’s not ideal timing, especially since you still trying to build your relationship with him. But-”

“Pepper,” you placed a hand on her arm, promptly cutting her off. “I’m happy for you both. You are going to make a great mother, and I know from first-hand experience,” the CEO smiled, kissing your temple. Suddenly, you felt arms around your waist, and you were lifted off the ground.

“Are you trying to steal my wife?” Tony asked. You squeaked as he spun you around. “Don’t you already have a girl to call your own? Or are you trying to get all the women in the compound?”

“It’s the Stark charm,” you laughed, a little out of breath from his tickling assault. “It’s hard for a woman to resist it,” he let you go, and it took a moment to gather your bearings.

“Ain’t that the truth?” He whipped a fake tear. “I’m so proud of you,” you saw Pepper pick up the drying towel, twist it, and snap it at Tony’s back. He yelped and jumped around to face Pepper.

“You sabotaged my help,” she handed him the towel. “Dishes are your punishment.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you giggled as Pepper linked your arm with hers.

“Stark charm,” you said, looking over your shoulder. The pout on Tony’s face made you laugh. “Ladies can’t resist it.”

“There you are, malyshka (baby girl),” you looked up from your laptop and saw Natasha standing in the doorway. Her arms crossed against her chest, and her long-sleeved shirt came down to her thighs. “Where have you been?”

“Planning,” you said, closed your laptop, and put it on your nightstand. She raised a questioning eyebrow as she walked over. “I’m just trying to move some meetings around and delicate responsibilities.” Your girlfriend climbed onto the bed and swung her legs over to sit on your lap.

“Are you leaving the company?”

“I would never. I want to spend more time with you, my dad, and the team,” what you wanted was to be here at the early stages of her pregnancy. With the father being Iron Man, it was uncertain how often he would be around when the world called for him. You told Pepper you had no problem with being there. The CEO wasn’t ready to tell the team yet, so lying to your former spy girlfriend was challenging. You knew she wasn’t buying your story. “Everything is fine,” you squeezed her thighs. “I promise,” you leaned forward and nudged your nose against hers. “Can I kiss you?” You asked. The Black Widow chuckled.

“You never have to ask,” you kissed her, taking in the taste of Natasha. It was addicting. You felt her smile in the kiss and soon pulled away.

“Movie night. What do you want to watch?” You asked, moving your hands up and down her back.

“Moonraker,” you huffed. “Please, sweetheart,” she gave you her best puppy dog eyes that always seemed to melt you.

“Put it on,” She grabbed the remote and fell to your side. As the movie began to play, Natasha curled up into your side, and you wrapped your arms around her. “I love you,” you mumbled.

“I love you too.”

“Ooo,” you looked at Pepper as she rubbed her stomach. She was three months pregnant, and every sound of discomfort sent you and Tony into a fit of anxiety. “Come here,” she held out her hand, and you were quick to your feet. She took your hand and placed it on her stomach. “Just wait,” you waited and soon felt the small kicks.

“Holy shit,” you sat down next to her. “That is so weird.” Pepper chuckled.

“It’s even better when she wakes you up at 2 in the morning,” she sarcastically said.

“Can she hear us?” You looked at her.

“Doctors say once they are about 23 weeks, they’ll be able to make out voices outside the womb, but that hasn’t stopped your father,” she explained.

“Can I?” She nodded. “Hi, little one,” you spoke to Pepper’s stomach. It was a little strange, but a weird emotion bubbling in your chest. “I’m your big sister, and I’m so excited to meet you, spoil you, and fill you with all the sweets in the world,” you glanced up at Pepper as she laughed. Tears were forming in her eyes. “But,” you continued. “I’m going to protect and love you with every fiber of my being.” Pepper kissed your forehead and brought you into her arms.

“You are going to be a great sister.”

“I agree,” you looked at Tony. His facial expression was hard to read. “I need you to be part of this meeting, squirt,” you said. You looked at Pepper, and she had a reassuring smile.

“Okay,” you whispered. Why was there a knot in your stomach?

“She escaped,” was the only thing you could comprehend as you sat in the meeting room with the Avengers. There were a few here. Clint retired to Iowa with his family, Bruce and Thor were off-world, and Steve, Sam, and Vision were on a mission. Natasha held onto your hand. “I don’t understand. How did she escape?” Maria explained that the doctor responsible for your newfound ability escaped the prison. Unlike her boss, she wasn’t sent to the RAFT. The jury found her guilty but believed her actions weren’t entirely her doing and that HYDRA brainwashed her. Stockholm Syndrome was what they called it. So, she was sentenced to a medium-security prison.

“She got help from a guard that worked there. His name is Johnathan Anderson,” Maria brought up a picture of him. His black hair was closely chopped, and he had a beard. His blue eyes had a no-nonsense expression. Starring at this picture, you felt that eerie sensation on the back of your neck. Subconsciously, you grabbed the back of your neck. “When his supervisors searched his lockers, they found love letters between him and her.”

“Do we know what she wants?” Wanda asked.

“Me,” you whispered. Their heads snapped to look at you. “I-I was her only success. All the others died, so it makes sense that she would be after me,” Natasha squeezed your hand, and instead of looking at her, you placed your head on her shoulder.

“We won’t let that happen,” Tony firmly said. “We’ve been tracking Anderson’s movements. When he’s not at work, he frequently visits two locations. A home in Connecticut and a warehouse in PA. She has to be there,” you’ve never seen him this determined. “We find her and lock her in the RAFT like she should have been in the first fucking place.”

“Language,” Natasha gasped. Tony glared at your girlfriend, but a smile crept onto his face. She attempted to lighten the mood of the situation, but you knew the redhead better than anyone. She was scared, terrified of the prospect of losing you. You were terrified yourself.

“I can stay,” Natasha said for the 10th time. You were in the kitchen, busying your hands and making you and Pepper a small snack. “I’ll stay if you want me to,” you wanted her to stay and feel safe in her arms while the rest of the team went off to fight the bad guy. A clash of thunder caused you to look out the window. Even the weather seemed to know you were in a mood.

“You can’t,” you dropped the knife and cupped her cheeks with your hands. “The team is far too thin to search 2 locations, and Tony is making last-minute adjustments to FRIDAY to keep me and Pepper safe.” She turned to kiss each of your palms.

“I hate this,” she admitted.

“So do I, but you will stop both of them, and I’ll be safe again,” Natasha moved her arms around your waist and pulled you flush to her. You could feel her heartbeat, the organ rattling in her rib cage. Her warm breath caused goosebumps to cover your skin as she burrowed her face deeper into your neck.

“I love,” she mumbled. It was barely audible to your ears.

“I love you too,” you kissed her head. “Go get ready, baby,” you squeezed her. “I’ll make you a peanut butter sandwich,” she huffed, removed herself from your arms, and sighed when she was out of sight. Thunder shook the compound, and you wondered what Thor was up to that was causing this storm. You loved rain storms, listening to the rain hitting the roof and the lightning that brightened up the sky. Now, it filled you with dread, an omen for darker times ahead.

As soon as the team left, Pepper asked if you wanted to help her paint the nursery. You agreed right away, hoping to find a helpful distraction. Soft music was filling the comfortable silence. They chose a light lilac for the walls; well, you figured Pepper picked it, and Tony swiped his card. There were boxes of furniture that still needed to be put together and clothes that were ready to be folded. Oh, you could not wait to spoil her. “How are you?” Pepper asked. She was taking a short break, resting in the rocking chair that Clint made. Sighing, you placed the paintbrush on the tray and looked at the half-finished room.

“I’m okay,” you said. “I feel like I finally have my footing, you know?” You looked at the CEO. “I just don’t want to lose the momentum I have.”

“You won’t,” she stood up and made your way over to you. She is quick to pull you into a hug. You slumped against her, desperately missing your mother’s hugs. “You are so courageous and strong. Your father and Natasha won’t rest until you are safe.” You knew that, so you nodded against the CEO.

“Miss. Stark,” FRIDAY said. “I do apologize, but your presence is being requested in med bay. It is time for your monthly check-in.” You groaned, stomped slightly, and pulled away from the CEO. It was Tony’s doing. He wanted to make sure the powers given to you weren’t causing you any problems. Pepper chuckled.

“Do you want me to come with you?” You shook your head.

“It won’t be long. I’ll be back, and we can finish painting, maybe tackle some of these boxes.” Pepper smiled, kissing your forehead. It was rare that you used your powers outside of training. Sometimes, you could use it to warm your body temperature and cuddle up to your cold girlfriend. Or you could create a small fire for Yelena to cook smores. Fighting wasn’t your thing. When you were younger, you hated the Avengers. It was another thing that took Tony away from you. When your mind was busy, you forgot about the power you could wield, forgot what happened to you. Sighing, you stretched your arms and opened the door to one of the medical rooms.

“Doctor Cho-” your voice trailed off as you stared at the woman in front of you who was not Helen Cho. “Who are you?”

“Doctor Cho is busy with other matters,” that voice. A chill went down your spine. The doctor spun around to face you, tablet in hand. “I will be conducting your exam today.” Charlotte Williams is the woman responsible for your newfound ability. You turned to leave, but the doors slammed shut and locked. No amount of pulling on the handle made the door move.

“How did you get in here?” You asked, facing her.

“You silly girl,” she laughed. “I gave you the ability to manipulate fire. do you not think I can hack your daddy’s AI?” You could fight and defend yourself and Pepper. With a flick of your wrist, fire engulfed your hands. “Not so fast,” she clicked a few buttons on the tablet, and the fire went out. You fell to your knees; a pained groan barely left your lips.

“What did you do to me?” Her footsteps echoed in the quiet exam room, closing the distance. She stood in front of you.

“I like to call it a fail-safe. With powers like yours, they can be unpredictable; I had to ensure you are under my control,” she ran her hand over your hair. “But it’s smart to have collateral,” she turned the tablet to show you security footage of Pepper. Johnathan Anderson had a gun pointed at her. Your eyes flickered to her, then the screen.

“What do you want?” You whispered.

“My beautiful creation,” she softly spoke. “I have missed you so much.”

Charlotte had you chained down to the table, an IV in your arm, and a nasal cannula for oxygen. She moved the security footage of Pepper to a bigger screen, a reminder that she was in charge. “Can I ask what you are doing to me?” You questioned. She ignored you and focused on your vitals. You sighed and looked up at the ceiling. There had to be a way out of this, but she had you under her control with whatever she typed on her tablet. Your attempt to escape had to be a surprise, so you had to wait. Wait and have some patience. Charlotte placed a warm towel on your veins. Once satisfied, she removed the towel and gently messaged the area to draw out your veins. Doctors always had difficulty finding an excellent place to draw blood. She tied a tourniquet around your arm and cleaned the spot. There was no pain when she pricked you with the needle, and the syringe filled with your blood.

“Have you experienced any fatigue? Headaches? Fevers? Insomnia?” She asked, taking your blood over to a microscope. The fact she had your blood didn’t sit right with you. You tugged on the chains.

“No,” you answered her.

“Have you felt any pain when using your powers?” Her back was still facing you.

“No,” you spoke.

“Any extreme mood swings?” She faces you, hands behind her back. “Anger? Jealously? Depression?” You shook your head now that she was facing you. She brought over a chair and sat down. “Do you know why you were chosen for this?” She questioned.

“Because I’m a Stark,” you whispered. It was the only reason that made sense. You were a Stark, a connection to Iron Man and the rest of the Avengers. Charlotte scuffed, shaking her head.

“You are more than a ridiculous last name. You and I both know that” she trailed her fingertip up and down your veins—goosebumps formed under her touch. “So sensitive,” she giggled. “I wanted you because you are resilient. You overcame so much to get where you are. I am in awe of that raw strength,” you weren’t sure if you could take what she said as a compliment. You’ve heard those exact words from close friends and Natasha, who understood the truth behind your relationship with your father. It didn’t sound enjoyable coming from her. “My beautiful work of art,” your stomach dropped. Bile filled your throat at the name. “We are going to do amazing things for the world.

You were tired, even though you were laying in bed and watching her take more of your blood, took a hair sample, and swapped your mouth for your saliva. Whenever she took something from you, she turned her back and worked on whatever she tried to figure out. It wasn’t proving easy. There were subtle changes to her behavior. Shoulders were tense. There was mumbling under her breath. Her eyebrows were pinched together. She was growing frustrated.

Charlotte had a stethoscope around her neck. The cold metal made you jump. “What are you trying to figure out?” She ignored you. “You are running out of time,” she grabbed a needle and filled it with a liquid from a small bottle. You caught the name: Gadolinium. It was a chemical dye used in MRI scans to help improve and enhance the quality of the image. Why would she need that? Unless… You laughed.

“What’s so funny, Stark?” She asked, injecting the dye into your veins.

“You don’t know, do you?” You asked. “You may have selected me, wanted me for my raw strength, but you don’t know how I survived. If I were to guess you expected me to die in that chair,” her silence was all the answer you needed. “I bet your little trick earlier was nothing more than a placebo. You know nothing about what you created,” you focused your power on increasing your body temperature. The metal chains that once held you down melted on your skin. There was pain, but the adrenaline that was moving through your veins overpowered it. Charlotte grabbed a scalpel as you jumped out of the bed, ripping the IV out of your arm. You reached for the tablet she had, and she swiped at your hand, but you were fasted. Grabbing the tablet, you threw it to the ground. The last thing you wanted was for her to contact Anderson.

“I understand you completely,” she slashed again, but you jumped back. “You want approval,” she attacked again. “You want acceptance.” Again, you dogged her. “You want love, and I can give you all of that.” You understood how she was able to convince Anderson to help her. Her words were sickly sweet, and she knew what insecurities to target. There was a part of your brain that wanted to give in. To believe her. Your eyes glanced at the security footage. There were others you had to think about, such as Pepper, your unborn little sister, and your friends back in the city. You had Yelena, Kate, and Peter. Most importantly, you had Natasha and Tony. They gave you love. They accepted you. You would never need her.

Charlotte lunged for you again, and you grabbed her arm to disarm her. However, being without a weapon didn’t deter her. She threw her body at you, and you tumbled to the floor, both fighting for control over the small metal knife. In the end, you were strong. It was a gut instinct as you drove the blade into her stomach and twisted. You were above her and watched her eyes fill with panic and her mouth pool with blood.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “But I can’t allow you to hurt me and my family anymore. You understand that, right?” She nodded and shakily put her hand on your cheek. You allowed her to have her moment. “I hope you find love and acceptance in the next life.” Her hand fell from your cheek, and you watched her breathing stop. Biting back your tears, you closed her eyes. On shaky legs, you left the room. You couldn’t take your eyes off her body until the doors closed.

The hallway was spinning. Your chest was heaving. You pressed your palms to your eyes. “Stop, stop,” you mumbled on the verge of a panic attack. “Breath. Just fucking breath.” You heard a muffled scream from the hall closet, and it pulled you out of the panic attack. “Helen!” You called out and ran towards the noise. Another muffled yell and you open the closet. Helen was gagged and bonded with rope. “Helen,” you removed the towel from her mouth, and she took a gasp for air. “Are you okay?”

“I should be asking you that,” she said, and you began to undo the rope around her wrists and ankles. “Where is she?”

“She is,” you trailed off. “She’s been dealt with.” You killed her. Her blood stained your hands. “Look, Pepper is still in danger, and I need to get to her. Can you call my dad? And don’t use anything that has been connected to FRIDAY.” You weren’t sure how far her reach was. Once Helen was standing on her own two feet, and she reassured you that she was fine, you took off with one of the ropes in your hand. Pepper was on her and Tony’s section of the compound. If the feed was accurate, Anderson had her on the couch. There was a door behind him that you could use, and it was hidden by furniture and a wall if you were fast enough.

Quietly, you closed the door behind you and were covered by a bookshelf. You heard footsteps, pacing back and forth. “I don’t get it,” Pepper spoke. “Why are you helping her? You must know what she put my daughter through.” Your heart skipped at the term Pepper called you. You saw her as a mother figure these past few months, but hearing her call you her daughter made your stomach flip.

“She’s not your kid.”

“She might as well be. I didn’t give birth to her, but I love her as my own,” you let out a shaky breath and heard Anderson’s footsteps stop.

“Then you must understand why I’m helping her,” you moved closer, now covered by a small wall. You peeked your head out, and Pepper’s eyes darted to you. Her expression never changed. “I love her,” he kept talking, unaware of what was happening behind him. “And she loves me.”

“Are you sure?” Pepper questioned. “I sense some hesitation.” You let out a shaky breath and wrapped the rope around your hands to create a taut line. You could do this; using your powers was too risky with how close Pepper was.

“She loves me. She’s just busy. Once her experiment is done, she will be mine,” he was obsessed with her, and you weren’t sure if she felt the same.

“I get it,” Pepper whispered. “We do crazy things for the ones we love,” you slowly stood up. “Even putting our own lives at risk.” It was your cue, and you moved quickly to wrap the rope around Anderson’s neck. He struggled against you, but you kicked in his knees. His legs went dead, and he fell. You pulled tighter.

“Sweetheart,” it was a mistake to look at Pepper as Anderson took the pause and flipped you onto your back. The air was knocked out of your lungs. Pepper stood up, picked up the gun he dropped, and helped you up. The guard was coughing and rubbing his neck.

“Get somewhere safe,” you told her. “Tony should be on his way.”

“I’m not leaving you,” he was slowly standing up.

“Go! Now!” You punch him, making contact with his nose. A horrible crack filled the silence, and pain radiated through your fingers, but you refused to let up. You were tired of these people having control over your life. You were supposed to be safe here, and they went and ruined it. Why was this happening to you? Why? Why? WHY? You weren’t sure when you straddled Anderson; each punch you threw was more brutal than the next. His bloody face began to blur with tears that formed in your eyes. You were exhausted and drained, and the adrenaline was running its way out of your system, but a burning rage kept you going until solid arms wrapped around you. “No, no, no,” you struggled against the hold. Were there more? Did Charlotte have other people under her control? How did you miss that? You needed to find Pepper and fast. But they wouldn’t let go of you.

“Hey, malyshka (baby girl), it’s me,” Natasha held onto your face and forced you to look at her.

“Natty,” you whispered; your eyes must have given away your frantic state because her green eyes filled with concern.

“Yeah, it’s me. You’re safe. You’re so safe,” she repeated. You numbly nodded, burrowing your head in her neck. Your whole body shook as you looked over her shoulder and saw Tony checking on Pepper. His eyes locked on yours, and you had to close your own. There was a quilt filling his own. It was too much too much.

“You wanted to see me,” you stood in Tony’s lap. After you were treated with your wounds and a long shower, Wanda told you that Tony wanted to see you. You didn’t trust FRIDAY’s announcement. So you scrubbed and scrubbed your skin raw until you were happy with how clean you were. Until you no longer saw the blood on your hands. Tony looked up from his computer; there were bags underneath his eyes.

“Hey,” he smiled. “I wanted to see how you are doing,” you shrugged and walked over to him, arms crossed against your chest.

“Can I stay in here with you for a little bit?”

“Of course,” he went to put his hand on your shoulder but hesitated. When you nodded that it was okay, he hugged you. You felt him release a shaky breath, which told you how much you needed a hug from him. Your hands gripped him tighter, and the faint scent of coffee filled your nose. It made you feel safe. Finally, you ended the hug, whipped a tear that fell from your eye, and crawled into the bean bag he held in his lap. He watched you settle and turned his attention back to what he was working on. A hologram appeared before him, and he began moving different components. They were moving so fast you couldn’t make heads or tails of what he was trying to do. Soon, the items flashed red. He grabbed his coffee mug and threw it against the wall. It shattered on impact, leftover liquid staining the wall. You let out a squeak, surprised by his sudden outburst. “Shit, fuck, I’m sorry,” he began to pick up the porcelain pieces, but you saw his hands shake. Quickly, you stood up from the bean bag and grabbed some paper towels before walking over to him. You heard each hitch in his breath.

“Tony, it’s okay,” you spoke softly. “Let me take care of it.” He rapidly shook his head; breathing became shallow and erratic as he struggled to fill his lungs with air. “Dad,” he looked at you. “I’m going to hug you now, okay?” A simple nod was all you got as you sat up on your knees and brought him into a hug. His head slumped against your chest, and his body was tense with panic.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped.

“Sh,” you told him. “Just follow my breathing. Nice and slow.” You saw his hands release the shards of the cup. Red patches of blood appeared on his palm. The cuts weren’t life-threatening, so you could attend to them later. Soon, his body relaxed against yours, and his breathing was under control. “Good. Let’s move to the couch, maybe a little more comfortable.” He had no fight as he allowed you to stand and move him to the couch. He refused to look at you, not even when you cleaned up the mug or brought a first aid kit. You knelt in front of him, carefully cleaning the minor cuts. You were familiar with panic attacks, having many yourself, and helping your friends through them. “Are you with me?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, licking his lips. “Yeah, I’m here.” You sat beside him on the couch, knocking your leg against his.

“Do you want to talk about what caused the panic attack?” He sighed, opening and closing his hands.

“I was trying to figure out how she did it,” he gestured to the still flashing red items. “She beat me. She was better, and I can’t let that happen and risk you and Pepper’s life. But I can’t fucking figure it out,” he slumped back. “How can I protect her when I keep failing to protect you?” You stayed quiet, tapping your fingers against your thighs. You stared at the blinking hologram. “I am Iron Man,” he mumbled.

“Yes, you are,” you spoke. “You are Iron Man, a part of the Avengers, playboy, genius, billionaire, and philanthropist,” he chuckled. “But you are human, and we sometimes get it wrong. We make mistakes and can’t find the answers to everything. That’s life,” you said. You looked back at him, and he was already looking at you. “The human existence is so uncertain, but that is one thing I know. You will love and protect that little girl and aren’t doing it alone.”

“Morgan,” he said. You whispered it back to him. “It’s the name we decided. Pepper wanted to wait, but I wanted to tell you.”

“I like it,” he held out your hand, and Tony took it. “What happened to me and Pepper was not your fault. Sometimes things happen a little out of our control,” he pulled you into a hug, kissing your temple.

“I’ll never get over how lucky I am to call you my daughter,” you leaned into the hug more and felt your body warm up at the praise.

“I’m pretty lucky I get to call you my dad,” you said. “Do you want some help on that?” You gestured to the hologram. “Two eyes are better than one.”

“Yeah, I’ll take you up on that.”

You found Natasha in the training room past midnight, and she wasn’t slowing down anytime soon. Only wearing a sports bra and leggings, she punched and kicked at the sandbag in front of her. Her body was glistening with sweat. Any other time, you would spend the time ogling your very sexy girlfriend, but she was hurting. It was different from seeing Tony’s panic attack or how Pepper hugged you tighter. She was more subtle, but you knew Natasha well. “Hi baby,” you made your presence known, but she kept punching harder and harder. “Do you want to shower and go to bed?” Still no response. You sighed and walked over to her, keeping your footsteps slow but loud. You felt her gaze on you, analyzing your next move. Instead of stopping her, you stretched, crumbled up her shirt, and she took off and lay on the ground. The shirt wasn’t a great pillow.

“Go to bed,” she said.

“Not without you, and you are going to be here for a while, so I’m going to be right here,” you closed your eyes. The rhythmic sound of her punching almost rocked you to sleep, but the sudden quiet pulled you awake. Opening your eyes, Natasha was sitting in front of you. “It’s rude to stare, you know,” she smirked.

“I just like looking at my beautiful girlfriend.”

“Creep,” she laughed, and you knew it was the most beautiful sound in the world. “Are you alright, my love?” She scuffed.

“I feel like I should be asking you,” you said, sitting up and intertwining your legs with hers.

“It’s okay to not be okay with all this. I mean, someone broke into our home,” she looked down, and you forced her chin up to look at you. “Talk to me, beautiful.”

“Do you like living here?” You were stunned by her question. “Your home is here and the city, but do you like both places.”

“Where are you going with this, Natasha?” You asked.

“Sometimes I just want to walk away from this. I want to live where no one can find me and take you with me because I can’t stay somewhere you could be in danger.”

“What about the team? Yelena?”

“Fuck them,” you glared at her knowing she didn’t mean that. “I’ll miss them and this life, but they could come and visit. You are more important than any mission I fight,” she moved closer to you, carefully laying you down on your back. Her body covered yours. “Would you go with me? You could still work, and we would wait till Pepper gave birth. I’d leave this to start a family and keep you safe.” You ran your fingers through her red hair.

“This sounds like a marriage proposal without a ring,” you teased.

“Who said I don’t have a ring?” she kissed your cheek and lingered above your lips. “So what do you say?”

“Show me the ring, and I’ll say yes,” you forced her down, lips colliding into a messy kiss. She tasted mint and a hint of strawberry from her electrolyte drink, and both covered her natural taste. But you couldn’t care less. You kissed her as if your life were dependent on it because, at that moment, it was.

“Auntie Nat!” Your five-year-old sister’s side, rushing out of the car and sprinting up the stairs of your log cabin home. Morgan pushed past you and jumped into the arms of your wife. The ex-Avenger dramatically kissed the girl’s cheek, which caused her laughter to fill the quiet space.

“What am I, chopped liver?” You asked.

“She wouldn’t stop talking about spending time at Auntie Nat’s house and playing with Liho,” Tony laughed. You met him halfway to grab Morgan’s bags.

“Unbelievable,” you mumbled, hugging your father and Pepper. “Betrayed by my sister.”

“Thank you for watching her. We appreciate it.” They were leaving on a week-long, no-kid vacation to Europe. You loved watching Morgan, and it seemed only fair since they gifted you this property up in Maine as a wedding gift. Natasha stepped away from Avenging, and you delegated more responsibilities to your company. It was strange at first not having a meeting to attend or waiting by the phone when Natasha was away on a mission. You could relax. You found your sister in the living room, with her toys scattered on the ground, and captured Natasha’s attention in whatever game of make-believe she created.

“I see what you’ll be doing for a week.”

“Can I come to Italy with you and leave them to their devices?”

“Maybe next time,” Pepper laughed, squeezing your shoulder as she walked over to where Morgan was sitting. You placed her bags on the foot of the stairs.

“This looks good,” you hummed in question. “This life away from Avenging and the spotlight. It looks good on both of you,” you smiled as you watched Morgan rope her mother into whatever story she was spinning. “I was hesitant when you said you wanted to move,” you knew he was. “But I’m glad you did it, squirt.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Suddenly, you felt a little body run into your legs.

“Mommy said you were upset because I didn’t say hi,” you picked her up with a slight grunt.

“Hi, Princess Morgan,” you kissed her cheek.

“Hi, sissy,” she wrapped her arms around your neck. “You’re my favorite sister.” You looked at Tony; his mouth hung open slightly.

“Do you have more of us running around I don’t know about?” He shrugged. “Alright, say goodbye to your dad,” you weren’t sure how well she would take being away from her parents for so long. So you and Natasha planned a week filled with fun. Tony took his daughter from you and squeezed her tight.

“Gonna miss you, princess.”

“Miss you too, Daddy,” she whispered. “Are you going to bring me something back?” You chuckled and shook your head. She was a firecracker, always keeping you on your toes. Once more goodbyes were said, and you watched their car drive away, you looked at Morgan.

“Ice cream time?”

“Ice cream time,” she repeated and returned to the cabin. Before you could follow her, Natasha’s arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close. Her hands rested on your stomach; they seemed to find their way there a lot.

“I love watching you with her,” she kissed your neck. “Makes me excited to meet our little one,” you giggled and turned to face her.

“Are you excited to tell Tony and Pepper when they return?”

“Hopefully, he doesn’t threaten me like when I asked for his blessing.”

“Auntie Nat! Sissy! You said ice cream time!” Morgan’s voice called out.

“Duty calls,” you stole a quick kiss from Natasha and ran into the house, where Morgan waited patiently in the kitchen.

You were married, expecting your first child, and your home was filled with laughter, happiness, and warmth because your life didn’t end when you were trapped in that chair. The doctor was right you were reborn into something beautiful but it wasn’t what she had in mind.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n stark #natasha romanoff x stark!reader #tony stark x daughter #tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark x pepper potts #pepper potts x daughter!reader

147 notes · View notes

midnightbabylon · 1 year

Text

Fine

summary: Bucky Barnes is the only person in the world who ignores you. Yet you are constantly sent on mission with him. In this one you get hurt by accident and he is disturbingly nice and caring to you and that confuses you.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: fluffy and soft Barnes

✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪

Starting a new life is not always easy. After the Battle in New York City, you were faced with nothing. Your family was buried under your Manhattan apartment. An explosion had taken everything from you. Your ear rang violently and blood ran from it. You struggled through the wreckage of the streets, shaking, when it was all over. You fled the state and built a new life with the rest of your family's savings. Never again did you want to go through life without a fight. If such an attack ever happened again, you wanted to be ready for it.

"Good morning." you said as you entered the kitchen and adjoining dining room. Everyone murmured a quiet reply except Bucky. Sighing softly, you placed your cup under the coffee maker and pressed the button. Then you made yourself a sandwich and took the last seat at the other end of the table. Your ears listened to some conversations, but you did not participate in any of them. Silently you watched the morning hustle and bustle. If someone told you 6 years ago that you would be at Avengers headquarters, you wouldn't have believed them.

"Oh nice everyone is here, then I can start the meeting." Tony ate a handful of blueberries and stopped across from you. "Romanov and Clint you guys hit the jackpot. Fury will join." he handed Natasha the first file then they left. "Steve, Wilson and Wanda. Quinjet and the longest mission. Good luck." Steve took the next file. An uncomfortable feeling spread through you and inwardly you hoped he wouldn't mention you're and Bucky's names. But luck was not on your side today. "Bucky and Y/N. Warehouse in New Jersey." Frustrated, you exhaled and picked up the file. Shortly thereafter, the ghastly squeak of a chair broke the silence and Bucky stormed out of the room. You really weren't hungry anymore, so you pushed the sandwich over to Peter and stood up. "It gets better eventually." Uncertainly, you looked at Tony. "What?" you asked. "The nightmares. Friday evaluated last week's night logs for me. You can always talk to someone here Y/N." Nodding silently, you walked out of the common room to your room. As you did so, you flipped through the file.

You couldn't explain why he hated you so much. After all, you had some things in common. When you weren't on missions, you could be found in front of a good book or lost in thought in a quiet place. You especially avoided parties of any kind, simply because your social battery drained very quickly. Sam regularly tried to lure you and Bucky out of the room. It usually worked for the cold soldier, but not for you. You liked your privacy and have always been more of a loner. After freshening up and slipping into your new black suit, you came into the garage. You ran your fingers over the new fabric. Tony had completely redesigned your suit and improved it. "Took you long enough," Bucky muttered grumpily. Annoyed, you clench your jaw and stare at him for a few seconds. "Why are you always like this with me?" you blurted out. "I haven't done anything to you!" Shaking your head, you got into the car without saying another word. You slammed the door on purpose to make your point. You stared at the monitor and typed in the destination. "Are you coming already?!" you shouted out, as Bucky was still standing in the open driver's door. He mumbled something unintelligible and got behind the wheel. The drive to Jersey didn't take long, yet your mind wandered. Not that Bucky would talk to you.

"What is that?" your mother asked as she stood at the kitchen window. Darkness fell over Manhattan for a moment and you joined her. A huge crash echoed through the streets of Midtown. "Get away from the window and find your father." she said in a trembling voice. Something was wrong but you couldn't see. You almost tripped over your own feet looking for your father. As you took the stairs to the top floor, the building began to shake. "Dad!" you yell up the stairs. Staggering, you arrived at the top. Where your father's office would have been, there was a gigantic hole between the ruins and you could see the sky. It looked like an alien invasion. Your body froze into stone as you watched the giant animal-like ships glide through the air. Your father was most likely dead and you could do nothing better than watch in panic at a potential war. You always thought aliens weren't real, but like the rest of humanity, you were probably wrong. "Y/N" your mother's voice sounded from downstairs. She was standing at the foot of the stairs, eyeing you. "Come down, right now!" You had no control over your body but somehow you reached her at the bottom. "Here." she thrust a backpack into your hand and stuffed various things into it before fleeing to the flap under the carpet. She took out all the wads of bills and stuffed them into the backpack as well. "We need to get out of here, fast." She pulled on your dazed body to get to the stairwell. The building shook again and chunks of stone fell on the concrete stairs. "Dad's dead." you finally found your voice again, and it sounded raspy. "I know my darling." she said softly and you felt her hands on your cheek. "But we have to get out of here or we'll die too." Tears smeared in her eyes and you followed her downstairs. The neighbors who were still alive were also heading down to the streets, although this probably wasn't the best idea. There were burning and broken cars on the road. Parts of houses lay scattered on the asphalt. This was the greatest nightmare in the history of the world. You had never experienced anything like it before. Most people were running in one direction, but your mother was looking in the other. "We have to go that way!" You looked at her as if she was also from another planet. "Mom, are you crazy? Isn't that where everything happens?!" You pointed at the explosions and the alien ships. "And that's exactly why no one would suspect us there. We need to find a working car and get out of there. Get the hell out of New York." You nodded and followed your mother through the wreckage. She rattled some car doors, but none of them opened. "Shit," she muttered and looked across the street. "Let's try this." she pointed to the silver SUV. She looked left and right before she ran off. The only mistake your mother made was not looking up. Before she could reach the vehicle, it exploded. The wave hit and you were thrown backwards. There was a ringing in your ears and everything was spinning. Like in slow motion, you raised your head and saw your mother's lifeless body. "Mom." It was still ringing in your ear and you felt something wet flowing down your cheek. "Mom." Breathing flatly, she looked at you and raised her hand trembling.

"Y/N." Blinking, you stared at your fingers. "Y/N" That didn't come from your thoughts. Fingers appeared in front of your eye and snapped. You shook yourself back to reality and Bucky looked at you. "We're here. I parked a few blocks down the street." He pulled the key out of the ignition. "Sorry." you muttered softly and got out in front of him. In your head you went through the file again. "Now I'd like Sam's drone to take a look at this warehouse first," you muttered as you stood in front of the complex. "We'll do it the old-fashioned way," Bucky said without emotion, and proceeded to climb the surrounding rooftops. "I don't have super serum in me to just crawl up walls. It's more of a super soldier or spiderman thing." He looked down at you, his Vibranium arm shining in the sun. "Then take the back door bore." You imagined seeing his mouth wrap twitch before he climbed through a window into the building. Terrified, you stared at the window. He just walked in without you. You crept along the wall to find an open door or window. When you finally found something you could already hear gasping and grunting. Bucky seemed to knock out the opponents without a problem. That's why you set out to find the capsule that Tony wanted. Actually, you didn't like stealing things, but this capsule had already been stolen from Avengers headquarters, so technically it was just a matter of getting it back. Like a cat, you tried to sneak quietly through the storage shelves. Behind a shelf filled with barrels, you looked around the corner. Jackpot. There was this stupid capsule alone in the room. Anticipated, you went to get her out of the warehouse as quickly as possible. Before you got to the capsule, two strong arms wrapped around your shoulders. For a moment, you thought Bucky was playing a prank on you, but those arms were about to suffocate you. It took you a second to remember your self-defense. You rammed the guy's elbow in the side and he let you go. You immediately turned around and punched him in the face. He moaned and held his nose. "What fear of losing to a girl?" you joke. "Never" said the dark-haired guy before he pulled out a knife. "That's not fair." You could hardly finish the sentence before he came out. The first few times, you were able to dodge until he caught your rib and you hissed to the floor. "Fuck." you muttered and raised your arm at the last second to fire an electric shock at him. He turned to the ground. You were panting and crawling with the capsule behind the shelf. Thus, potential new attackers would not find you immediately. When you took your hand from the wound, your hand was dyed red. Breathing deeply, you pulled yourself up and clung to the shelf. A move to your right made you twitch and almost hit before you realized it was Bucky.

"Hey. You okay?" Nodding you turned your head to him. "I´m fine." He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Really? That looks painful." „I said I‘m fine.“ The words came out of your mouth harder and louder than you intended. Typical defense strategy. However, Bucky could probably see the tears in your eyes as you pressed your palms to the fabric. "Hey, I'm sorry okay? I really just want to know if everything is okay." "Just a scratch, all right." you swallowed the rest of the emotions down. "Let me see how deep it is." he came a few steps towards you. "We'd better get back."you just answered. "Y/N, please." he looked you right in the eyes the first time and you were amazed at the light blue. He pulled the stretchy fabric apart to see the wound. "It's really not deep, but it should be stitched anyway." his cold metal fingers stroke over your skin, making you twitch. "Come." he took your arm over his shoulder and reached for the pod. "Back to headquarters. We don't want you to die." he grinned and you looked at him in disbelief. "You don't have to be nice to me now just because I'm hurt." He stopped in front of the car and furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm not just being nice to you…. no." he said seriously after a moment's hesitation. "Why do you usually hate me?" Tears shimmered in your eyes. "I don't hate you, not at all Y/N." he gently lifted you into the car, trying to hurt you as little as possible. "Funny you always treat me like shit though." you tried to laugh but it hurt like hell. "Who do you think leaves books at your door at night after your nightmares." He got in and drove gracefully into traffic heading for New York City. "I always thought Sam did that." you admitted quietly. "No." he muttered. "I do. I have nightmares, too. I know what it's like and I wanted to help you." He looked at the road intently. "Thanks." you whispered, "I like you Y/N I just never knew how to tell you." Your eyes got heavy. "Funny way to express it." Your voice softened and your hand slipped from the wound. "Y/N stay awake. Please stay awake." Bucky voice got louder.

"I think she is waking up," somebody murmured. "Hey they're we've been worried sick." Natasha hovered over you and Sam who was holding your hand smiled big. "Man you scared the shit out of vibranium arm boy." Now you smiled. "Sorry." "Well leave you two alone for a minute." Natasha stood up and took Sam with her. "How you feeling?" Bucky sat down on the chair next to your bed. "I feel pretty good, thanks for the rescue." He sighed. "If I was a bit faster he wouldn't even hurt you." "It is okay Bucky. I am fine. Don't worry. Let´s talk about what you said in the car earlier." you smiled. He chuckled. "Okay darling let's have that talk. But if you tell Sam I have to kill you." He took your hand in his. "First of all I am going to tell you how you flirt in this century now. No cold hearted stares anymore and treating a girl like she's air." He nodded licking his lips. "Got it. Can in kiss you anyways?" "Cheeky bastard,"you laughed out loudly with a slight pinch of pain before his warm and soft lips came crashing onto yours.

Permanent Bucky/Sebastian Taglist:

@aya-fay @glitterydeputyshepherdwagon @queenofkings1212 @lilya-petrichor @dexter99 @dystopian-dez382 @xoxoloverb @yougottalovefandoms @justalostgirl

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #james bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader

425 notes · View notes

onceuponastory · 7 months

Text

an unexpected meeting - bucky barnes x reader

But I'm so fucking lonely, no one really knows me You are still a heart I hope to hold - weekends by freya ridings Plot: Two years after breaking up with his girlfriend, Bucky unexpectedly bumps into her again. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (previously) Warnings: Mentions of a breakup and heartbreak, Bucky isolating himself and blaming himself after what happened with HYDRA/The Winter Soldier, and with the breakup. He also self sabotages himself a lot in this. A few tiny mentions of nightmares, blood and violence but nothing too graphic. And of course, some angst. But as always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know. Notes: This is for @angstober Day 12: "On Our Own." Please ignore that I'm one day late. Sue me. I love this song so much, so I had to write this based on it.

Not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.

Making his way down the street, Bucky shivers, wrapping his coat tightly around himself as another bitterly cold wind blows against his face. The temptation to just go home and forget today is too real. But deep down, he knows he has to do this. Bucky has been reclusive for the last two years, shutting himself up in his apartment and only going out for missions and essentials. His friends tried to convince him to come out, whether for coffee or something stronger, but Bucky still rarely left the safe space of his New York apartment. He prefers to be alone. It’s better to be alone.

Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself as he sat alone in his apartment night after night, hearing the noise of the hustle and bustle outside, as he scrolled through his friends’ countless pictures together, seeing how happy they were together, without him…. And as he tried desperately to ignore how isolated he felt.

That was Bucky’s life until a few weeks ago, when Steve and Sam stepped in and insisted that getting out in the fresh air would do him the world of good. Bucky wasn’t so sure about their promises, but since the alternative was his two best friends dragging him outside themselves, going outside on his own terms sounded much more appealing. And walking to the store to buy some things is small, it’s manageable. It’s not like a mission or something more serious.

And although he’d rather die than admit it to them… he was getting fed up with being stuck inside his apartment all the time, staring at the same four walls day in and day out. Steve and Sam just gave him the push he needed.

That and he’s dangerously close to running out of coffee. Priorities.

He soon reaches the store, grabbing a basket and heading inside. The sooner he leaves, the better. He wanders around aimlessly, looking down at the various fruits and vegetables on offer. No doubt Steve and Sam would tell him he needs to eat more of those. He grabs some apples and plums, tossing them into the basket with little thought.

And then, he sees her, standing alone by the grapes. He’s shocked to see her here, of all places. In fact, most times he’s seen Y/N, she’s been a hallucination, gone in the blink of an eye when Bucky tried to get too close. But no matter how much he blinks, and how long he keeps his eyes closed, Y/N is still there. And she looks just as beautiful as she always does. Bucky’s heart begins to beat quicker, and his stomach churns in a weird mixture of excitement and fear.

He hasn’t seen her since they broke up, and when Bucky decided he was better off alone. Not because of anything Y/N did, though. God no, it was never Y/N’s fault. She’s the most beautiful, loving woman in the world, with a smile that puts the sun to shame. And that’s exactly why he broke up with her.

After everything he’s been through with HYDRA and his work as an Avenger, Bucky's life is an intense and dangerous one. When they were still together, Y/N insisted she was fine with him being away for months and didn’t mind staying up beside the phone all night, anxiously awaiting to hear if he was still alive. But Bucky knew she was lying. Love or not, nobody wants to deal with that from their partner, to say goodbye and wonder if they'd ever come home again. Not just that, Bucky knows he’s a lot to deal with. With his troubled past, he has many... issues, to put it mildly. Issues he doesn’t want to drag Y/N into, ever. With all the innocent blood he’s spilled, Bucky knows he doesn’t deserve anything good.

Especially not Y/N. All Bucky ever wanted was to protect her from certain heartbreak. So, he walked away, promising her it was the best thing for her. And he’s regretted the break up ever since. That’s why he’s locked himself away for so long - he couldn’t bear the thought of life without her, of going to places they loved without her, knowing that a piece of himself is missing, yet being unable to get it back no matter how hard he tried. But most of all, he couldn’t live knowing that it’s his fault everything fell apart.

And now, here she is. Right beside him at the store. Just the two of them.

“Y/N.” His voice is soft, almost as if he doesn’t believe that she’s actually there this time, and no longer a figment of his imagination. His words are nothing more than a whisper in the wind. And yet, despite how interested she’s pretending to be in this fruit, how long it’s been since she’s heard his voice, and how quiet it is, Y/N still hears it. It’s almost as if his words brush against her cheek, just like the way his lips did the last time he kissed her. When she cried and begged him to stay, insisting that whatever it was, they could just work it out if he would just please listen. And Bucky just shook his head, kissing her softly and promising that this was for the best. He still remembers the warmth of her skin as his lips brushed against hers, and the feeling of her tears rolling down her cheeks as she continued to ask him to stay. Although Bucky knows his tears were mixed with hers, too. That day, he savoured every moment he could, knowing it would be the last time he would ever see her.

But like he said, he looked for her, though, being disappointed every time. But this time, it’s real.

Y/N turns to him, locking eyes with him once more. The last time she did that was when he walked out, their relationship destroyed beyond repair. Because of him. And once again, Bucky reminds himself that it’s all his fault. “Bucky. Hi.” She smiles. Her smile looks different, and doesn’t reach her eyes like the usual warm ones that he’s used to. Back when things were great between them. Clearly, the breakup has affected her too.

“Of course it did, you idiot. She loved you.” Deep in Bucky’s gut, that familiar feeling of guilt twinges again. The same one he feels whenever he remembers just what he did to all those poor souls. Y/N never judged him for that, though. She sat with him every night, holding him as he screamed and thrashed around. Running her fingers through his hair, whispering sweet nothings whilst she peppered kisses across his body, knowing it calmed him down.

He never deserved her. That’s why he let her go.

But it feels so wrong now. The bitter taste of regret seeps through him.

“How are you?” She asks. It’s a polite response, thankfully… but it’s curt. Before, she used to ask him to tell him every aspect about his day, anything he could share about his missions. Just something more than this. And as he spoke about everything and nothing, she’d hang onto his every word. Now, though, she looks like she couldn’t care less.

And despite this raw, aching feeling in his chest, Bucky knows he deserves it. He can't destroy their relationship and then reappear to mend the pieces after two years.

“Good. Good.” He lies. “So, um… what are you up to?” He asks, regretting his words the moment they leave his mouth.

“Getting groceries.” Y/N replies, another curt response. “Like you evidently.” She gestures to his basket.

“Oh. Right.” Because of course she is. Why else would she be here? And then, an uncomfortable silence descends, enveloping the two of them so deeply they could drown in it. But Bucky’s been drowning in the consequences of his actions for a long time.

This time, though, he’s been spat back out… and what a hellish form of karma this is.

“Was I not enough for you?” She asks, bluntly. The question takes him aback. He wasn’t expecting this question, of all things. …But she deserves the truth, and to ask him whatever she wants after it ended the way it did.

“Of course you were enough, Y/N. I promise you that.” She was more than enough, more than he could ever deserve, especially after the things he’s done. In fact, that’s probably why he ruined their relationship. Because whilst Y/N nurtures and supports everything she touches, Bucky destroys them. And he refused to let Y/N be the next thing he destroyed. But with the way she looks at him now, Bucky knows he’s destroyed her too. And that realisation hurts more than anything he’s ever done.

“You had a funny way of showing it then.” She hisses, loud enough for him to hear. Another strike of guilt. Guilt that he deserves, of course.

“Y/N.” He sighs. “I’m so sorry. Please, just-“

“Hey! There you are!” A man’s voice sounds, cutting through Bucky’s explanation. The man walks up to Y/N, wrapping his arm around her and kissing her temple. Immediately, the icy sting of jealousy wraps itself around Bucky, and his eyes narrow. Who the hell is this guy? He better take good care of Y/N, and treat her like the Queen she is, like Bucky did. Or else… there’ll be trouble.

“Did you, though?” A little voice in the back of his head pipes up. “Because…I don’t think you ever did. At least, not at the end.” The words hit Bucky like being doused in ice cold water. His lungs constrict, and tears sting in his waterline.

Although he still loves Y/N, so much so that he wants to shout it from the rooftops, deep down he knows that the voice is right. After what he did… he has no right to feel so protective of her. He has no hold over her heart anymore.

And besides, maybe Y/N should’ve been protected from him instead.

“Who’s this?” The man asks, looking at Bucky curiously.

“Um.” Y/N murmurs. A small glimmer of hope lightens deep in Bucky’s gut then. Maybe there’s a slight chance for redemption here, to make things right. Maybe, just maybe, she would say something nice about him, proving her feelings towards him have changed, if even only a little. And perhaps she still feels the same love for him as he does for her. Maybe, somewhere down the line, they can make things right again. “He’s just someone I know.”

And that makes the flicker of hope inside of him fizzle out into nothing.

“I’m Bucky. Nice to meet you.” Bucky nods, trying with all his might to not collapse in the middle of the aisle.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Chris.” The man smiles. Bucky stares at him, looking for something, anything, that seems off about Chris. Maybe he’s gripping her arm just too tightly, or shooting her dirty looks when he thinks Bucky isn’t watching. But there’s nothing. Chris seems perfect. He’s the perfect boyfriend Y/N deserves, and the one Bucky failed spectacularly at being.

As Chris makes polite conversation, Bucky nods, glancing around for an exit strategy. Usually, he does that to ensure the safety of his team, and protect them against whichever monster or villain they’re dealing with.

Now though, he’s doing it so his ex-girlfriend, who he definitely isn’t over and her new boyfriend don’t see him start sobbing in the middle of the fruit and vegetable section.

“Well, I better get going.” Bucky quickly announces. “It was nice seeing you Y/N.”

“Yeah… you too.” She murmurs. Bucky quickly turns and walks away, abandoning his basket somewhere in the store.

As soon as he’s outside, a few loose tears escape, running down his cheeks despite Bucky's best efforts not to break in public. It feels like his heart is being ripped apart all over again, just like it did when he broke up with Y/N. But this time, though, it hurts even more, like millions of stab wounds to the heart over and over again.

Thankfully, he makes it home quickly, slamming the door behind him. He barely makes it a few steps before collapsing on the floor, his body wracked with sobs. If he could turn the clock back and fix this, if he could reverse his actions, he would.

But he can’t. He made his choice, and now he has to live with it.

Despite how much it hurts. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Please follow @onceuponastory-library and turn on notifications to be notified when I next post!

168 notes · View notes

poepoe-thebunny · 1 month

Text

Random Scogan Headcanons because I'm away from my laptop and can't write fics part 1:

Warning: this is all nonsense don't take it to seriously XD

1) Logan will never get over the first time Scott hustled him at pool. He will grumble about it, mostly good naturedly, every time it gets brought up while Scott smirks at him over his morning coffee.

The hustle becomes a semi regular drinking story at some point with whoever Logan happens to be drinking with, which varies by mileage and mission.

This eventually leads to someone proposing a game of pool between the two angle masters, and Logan gets to sit back and watch Scott and Captain America treat pool like a game of chess. It is the longest game of his life.

2) Scott doesn't mind eating the same thing several times in a row, especially if he's busy and something else is a priority. Which is all the time really.

After much arguing and quite a bit of forcing Scott out of his office for food, Logan managed to figure this out. They eventually reach an agreement.

On days when Scott is up late planning, he will eat whatever simplistic things Logan puts in front of him. Logan has found out that when Scott is overwhelmed, simplistic familiar food is what he has the best chance at eating. This ranges from little plates of veggies and fruits to sandwiches or bowls of oatmeal. Eating those requires the least amount of energy from Scott but at least he will eat.

The first time Logan did this he stared Scott down until Scott realized he was there. It took 15 minutes.

3) Logan is understandably weary of his feral side, and he never wants to willingly unleash it on his team mates.

That being said, Scott has discovered a feral wolverine is surprisingly cute when he doesn't think he's in danger.

Once on a joint mission with the avengers, a stone faced Cyclops had to stare down both an amused Captain America and Nick Fury on a hellicarrier, with a feral wolverine with his head on Scott's lap.

Turns out that even when Feral, Logan still doesn't like flying. Scott insists it's the easiest way to keep Logan calm.

4) This leads to an entire mini adventure in which the students, lead by rogue and Jubilee, begin getting blackmail pictures of a surprisingly docile feral wolverine. Such adventures include but are not limited to

-Feral Logan and Nightcrawler playing a game of chase, with Kurt bamfing away while laughing the entire time just to annoy him.

-Feral Logan falling asleep on the living room couch and the kids covering him in cute fluffy blankets and stuffed animals.

-Scott trying to force feral Logan to wear pants.

-Feral Logan stealing Scott's sweaters for naps

Rogue's favorite is actually a video, but she gives a picture of it to Scott and Logan.

It's the two of them, Scott and feral Logan, up late at night in the school. Wolverine with his head in Scott's lap, as Scott runs his fingers through his hair and sings to him quietly after a nightmare.

#x men #x men movies #scott summers #logan howlett #cyclops #wolverine #scogan #the avengers #but only a bit #scott/logan #headcanons #headcanons galore

61 notes · View notes

cosmicswan · 5 months

Text

𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐫

listen to this while reading | back to masterlist

code name: Noir

government name: Aisha Leblanc

personality type: INTJ

nationality: USA

origin: unknown

IQ: 187

shifting to: the first avengers movie

me core

occupation before shield recruitment: professional contemporary dancer, CEO

background info & family:

i was in an orphanage when nick fury was alerted of a super powered kid (me) so he adopted me & trained me in combat & also trained me how to use my powers. my real family is unknown (though my powers look similar to the eternals) but i might script that im not an eternal and see where that goes (my mom was a being that can control reality)

ik,,, almost every super powered dr is me with powers concerning the multiverse and THATS BCS I WANNA BE OP (stfu) and i am literally traveling the multiverse to get there so it isn’t that much of a strech

identity

here’s the fun part, no one knows that i am nick fury’s daughter (i scripted that he didn’t change my last name to his for safety purposes) and my name in the orphanage was my cr last name. but he did change my last name after the adoption to leblanc (for further safety precautions.) so far no one knows about my real identity & powers before joining the avengers

fury is actually a good dad and he let me do the things i want to do growing up (gymnastics, contemporary dance, & modelling) before i decide to join shield and became a spy

avengers

since i don’t want no trauma, i scripted out major worldly (and outerworldly threats) so no doomsday n shit. so this dr is more like a spy dr than anything. i also scripted out any apocalyptic events. zombies icks me out

but nick still make the avengers a team. to wipe out earth’s and other realms major evil organizations, evil politicians yk all that jazz.

and most of the avengers live in the tower. (i want to live that avengers found family domestic trope stfu)

the avengers consist of: bruce, nat, wanda, pietro (scripted out his death), thor, occasionally loki, tony, me, clint, vision, peter (he doesn’t live in the tower), yelena after we demolish the red room, steve, bucky after we save him (scripted him to not kill tony’s dad) i want the full domestic life experience with no beef alright.

i also scripted that matt murdock is the avengers official lawyer. i also scripted a shit ton of safety precautions to not get my ass traumatized so imma just skip that part

and i forgot to mention that my CEO, model, performer persona is totally different than my hero persona (batman bruce moment yurrr) and i shapeshift so my hero and citizen face is literally different.

my powers

my powers are a mix of phoenix force & chaos magic but all in all i am essentially the goddess of the multiverse. higher above kang the conqueror & basically omnipotent (don’t start on the you can’t be op bs)

my abilities include; multiverse travel, reality destruction & creation, time travel, healing, shapeshifting, power fields, impenetrable shields & weapons creation, mind control, elemental powers, reality wrapping, illusions, astral projection etc. (i develop these powers gradually)

human background

i aged down tony stark to be the same age as me! (26 at 2012)

i attended MIT and rivaled tony in all his computer science & engineering classes. i graduated with a double masters degree in computer science & performing arts

i scripted that before i joined shield i was the founder of my AI & vehicle company making me the youngest self made billionaire (unlike tony’s generational wealth) and i pursued contemporary dancing as a hobby but later become a professional performer. and i sometimes model for brands too after resigning as the ceo and handing it over to one of my cr friends that i scripted (im not all in for the hustle life i want to be bougee and not work)

significant others

i might end up with tony with an academic rivals arc but im also interested in natasha 🤭 so idk yet im going with the flow again in the romance field

about me

my personality is pretty much the same as other drs, im probably a philanthropist and a hardcore activist there too, i featured a lot in the covers of the times magazine or ford 30 under 30 (my literal dream) then alot of fashion brands notice my interest in fashion and offered from modeling positions to ambassador positions, im probably going to model for ysl, graff, vivienne westwood etc. im also thinking of making a collaboration with cartier to make timeless classic style smart watches (i hate the style of apple watches)

likes, hobbies & random facts in my dr

what i like in this dr is pretty much the same in my cr with only little differences

i like adrenaline seeking activities, flying planes, f1 racing, probably a street racer at one point, i invented nano tech for tony’s suit, invented nano tech to cure cancer (probably almost got assasinated in the process) i also invented electric cars with solar power (fuck elon) overall my company creates technology like devices, AI, AI websites, solar powered cars, & motorcycles.

i have a charity school of performing arts with students all over the world to learn dance, professional instruments, etc.

i like mansions, luxury staycations, hot milk tea, convenient technology, fashion, dance, parties, chess, and being theatrical & dramatic. once i dreamed about this dr i was on a mission crushing this one dude in a fight while listening to an der schönen blauen donau - walzer, op. 314. it was comical

that’s all for now! pls ask me any questions in my inbox or comments if u have any <33

#reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting community #reality shift #shifting realities #shiftinconsciousness #shifttok #desired reality #mcu dr #mcu #avengers dr

81 notes · View notes

xoxobuckybarnes · 4 months

Text

December 2023 Stucky Fics

Completed

Treading Water (Rated: M, Words: 274K) by sparkagrace / @sparkagrace

Summary: Olympic swimmer Bucky Barnes always believed that when the time came to retire, he would walk away with his medals and world records firmly in the history books and never look back. He never thought the water would leave him first. ***Part of the series Lane Lines: Lane Lines (Rated: M, Words: 132K), Lumière (Rated: M, Words: 5K), & New Traditions (Rated: M, Words: 6K)***

Without You Here, We Are A Worse Version of Who We've Been (Rated: T, Words: 10K) by endlesstwanted / @endlesstwanted & art by Estelior / @estelior

Summary: Bucky has to plan how to do his physical therapy when, by chance, he finds therapist and gym owner Steve’s videos on YouTube. Located two blocks away and encouraged by his roommate, Bucky goes and meets Steve, gets the help he didn’t know he needed, and a couple of things more in the way.

you can't touch this (Rated: E, Words: 7K) by Kalee60 / @kalee60

Summary: Bucky had always been tactile, always shown his affection through touch and a closeness that generally drove Steve crazy. And it would have been totally fine - if Steve wasn’t head over heels in love with him. But he was - and Steve wasn’t sure what to do about it. Or the five times over the years Bucky touched Steve's ass and the one time Steve touched Bucky's.

For Steve (Rated: E, Words: 6K) by stuckytoyoulikeglue (malfoys_minx)

Summary: When Steve is awoken in the early hours of Christmas morning by his drunk roommate trying to literally climb into his stocking, he doesn't know what to think. After all, just because Bucky happens to be the only thing he's ever really wanted for Christmas, doesn't mean that this year his wish is finally going to come true, no matter what his friend's intoxicated ramblings might suggest...

Bucky Barnes and the Christmas Spirit (Rated: T, Words: 3K) by this_wayward_life

Summary: Bucky's never celebrated Christmas. Steve sets out to change that.

'tis the damn season by (Rated: M, Words: 10K) by captainswit

Summary: Steve Rogers is a hotshot, big-deal Hollywood actor. He’s had four indie movies released in the past couple of years, has won awards (even if they have all been People’s Choice awards, the Oscars is next!), and has a blockbuster action movie coming to theaters in a few weeks. He's home for the holidays and he's missed his hometown of Lehigh, and one inhabitant of Lehigh in particular, his former best friend and old flame, Bucky Barnes. 'Tis the season for baked goods, holiday parties, and awkward encounters.

Home is the Human Heart (Rated: T, Words: 3K) by aimmyarrowshigh

Summary: The number of people who will be crowded into the Common Room makes Bucky’s skin feel too tight. “I don’t think I want to go.” “Well, that’s okay, Buck.” Steve’s eyebrows draw in the middle like it’s not actually. “I don’t want you to feel unsafe.” He pauses. “Do you mind if I still go?” “Why would you go?” Bucky does mind, a little. He likes being alone with Steve better than being alone without him. “You aren’t Jewish.” -- Or, Bucky and Steve and two Hanukkahs: one in 1930 and one in 2015.

All I Want For Christmas Has Been You for More Than Seventy Years (Rated: E, Words: 9K) by Kellyscams / @thebestpersonherelovesbucky

Summary: It's Bucky's first Christmas back with Steve in 70 years, just a year since he's come to live with him and the Avengers. Steve's taking him away from the city for the occasion. Bucky assumes it's for his own safety; just in case the hustle and bustle of the New York Christmas Season triggers some of the Winter Soldier tendencies he's been fighting and learning to overcome. Bucky doesn't mean to take this impromptu trip personally. Doesn't want to be upset. But he's recently recalled and redeveloped his feelings for Steve. Feelings he never shared with him. Feelings he has no idea if Steve shares, so being alone with his super soldier buddy might not be something he's ready for. Only Steve's reasons for taking Bucky away might not be so black and white--or red and green as it may be. Christmas songs, snowball fights, ugly Christmas sweaters, confessions, and Bucky wrapped up in Christmas lights.

The Last Boyfriend (series) by Brenda / @brendaonao3

All Mixed Up (Rated: G, Words: 3K) Summary: Oh God, she was probably someone's wife or mother or something and he'd just made things ten times more awkward and – "Oh, I didn't mean – I mean, I didn't mean it like that, I just thought –" Then a large, masculine, warm hand slid into his, and a low, very male voice said: "Nat, you love new friends, don't be rude." "James, really?" "Yes, really." The hand in Steve's gently tugged. "C'mon, I'll buy you a coffee; you can be friends with me instead." Holiday Themed Meet Cute, based on this Tumblr prompt The Last Boyfriend (Rated: T, Words: 6K) Summary: "Oh wow, you, um..." Steve's eyes, so large and beautiful and the same dark-blue of the twilight sky, widened behind the black frames of his glasses as he stopped in front of their small group. "You're here." Bucky nodded in lieu of speaking. He didn't think he could make a sound if his life depended on it. And if he could, he was sure it would be some babbling combination of God you're gorgeous and I want to kiss you until your glasses fog up. Which probably wouldn't help his cause of trying to behave like an actual human being and not a total disaster. Or: Bucky and Steve have the fluffiest and most adorkable first date ever. Forever's A Good Place to Start (Rated: T, Words: 2K) Summary: Exactly one year after Bucky and Steve's first meeting at Gregory's Coffee, Bucky keeps his promise. AKA, the fluffy proposal fic that everyone voted for on Tumblr. :D

i've got a lot to pine about (Rated: M, Words: 6K) by cable-knit-sweater (cable_knit_sweater) / @cable-knit-sweater

Summary: Bucky loves Christmas, always has. Steve, however, his friend and fellow medical resident, struggles a little more during the holidays, especially now he doesn't have any family left. Bucky does his best to try to cheer him up a little and make sure that Steve will feel some of the holiday cheer. Thing is though, they're not just friends or colleagues. They've been hooking up for months, almost a year, and Bucky isn't sure how he's going to keep his feelings to himself for much longer. Because to him, this thing they have stopped being something casual a long time ago.

Found My Place in Time (Rated: E, Words: 12K) by humapuma / @humapuma & art by Cap_D

Summary: “Buck,” he heard Steve say, “wake up. We’re here.” Bucky opened his eyes and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension out of his back. When Steve’s words sunk in, though, he turned and leaned forward, staring past Steve’s chest to look out the window. Beyond the wing of the plane, he found a beautiful coastline with white sand, blue waters, and palm trees, as well as rows of bungalows on the water. “Wow,” he murmured. “We’re staying in one of those, right?” - In which Steve invites Bucky on a trip to Fiji and they discover something a lot more than beautiful vistas and friendly locals.

Podfics

it's been a long, long time (Rated: NR) by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona)

Summary: The Asset returns to the man's apartment three days after pulling him from the river.

A Place Called Home (Rated: T) by roseszain

Summary: New Years Eve. Suits. Party at Stark's place. Honesty happens.

WIP

Lost Vocabularies that Might Express (The Memory of These Broken Impressions) (Rated: E, Current Words: 82K) by dorian_burberrycanary / @burberrycanary

Summary: The worst of times, like the best, are always passing away. How’s that for some consolation on the road? A post-The Falcon and The Winter Soldier Stucky fix-it as part of the all-American road trip, detours included. ***Part of the series A Man Takes His Sadness Down to the River (The Consolation of Philosophy): The Same River, Twice (The Man Is Still Left with His Hands) (Rated: G, words: 4K), Still Left with the River (The Paradox of Motion) (Rated: G, Words: 14K), & Not Language by a Map (The Grammar of Sensation) (Rated: E, Words: 20K)***

a league of our own(Rated: E, Current Words: 36K) by burning_brighter / @burning-brighter

Summary: Steve’s sixteen-year-old son’s one and only dream is to play in the Major League. He thinks he has a shot when the team get a new coach, retired MLB legend and Steve’s high school crush, Bucky Barnes. Steve hasn’t thought of the man in many years, but seeing him brings back many memories that push Steve to reach out to an old friend and maybe make new ones on the way. What happens when Steve gets to know Bucky properly? What happens when they open up about their darkest secrets and deepest fears? There’s really only one thing that can happen.

Every Me and Every You (Rated: M, Current Words: 5K) by deadto27 / @deadto27

Summary: Bucky Barnes is doing his best. He's getting by after the blip, after Sam became Captain America, after Steve...well, it's best he doesn't think about that. The point is, his life is different now, and he's trying his best. He just wishes the hollow feeling in his chest would go away. ----- Bucky gets blinded by a bright light as the tear seems to implode in on itself and there’s an odd little jolt as the pulling stops, and then Bucky’s blinking, trying to get his vision right again as he loosens his grip on America. “You okay?” he checks, still squinting. He’s probably not blind, he thinks. It just feels like it right now. “I’m okay,” America tells him and he sees her nod shakily as his vision starts to clear, and he carefully lets go of her, seeing that she can support herself, hands pressing onto the floor next to her. “Uh…I don’t think I am,” says another voice, and Bucky turns his head so fast he might give himself whiplash. Because he knows that voice. He knows that voice better than any other voice on the planet and he’s missed that voice, so, so much.

hey now, you’re an all star (get your game on, go play) (Rated: E, Current Words: 75K) by buckyismybicycle / @buckyismybicycle

Summary: Boston Bruins trade notorious party animal/human disaster Bucky Barnes to the Dallas Stars, and captain Steve Rogers is not impressed when Fury puts him on babysitting duties. But, as he gets to know Bucky - really gets to know Bucky - he wonders if maybe the media has got it all wrong - very, very wrong. PS - you do not need to know hockey for this, I promise.

Rereads

it always leads to you in my hometown (Rated: E, Words: 37K) by pineappleyogurt (musicforlife101)

Summary: Bucky doesn't want to talk about life in LA. Or the icy numbness in his chest. Or how shattered he is without Steve. Or how he doesn't know who he is anymore. Or the supposed choices he has to come home. But when Steve calls him babe out of habit, he decides to let him. At least for the weekend. It's a lesson in choices and consequences and finally figuring out what's important. -- You can't unmake a choice. Decisions in life aren't like making a bed or choosing a path. You made it, it's done. You don't unmake it or remake it like a do over. You just make a different choice and live with those consequences. Each day is a choice. And the consequences, good or bad, of staying here aren't the same as the consequences of coming back. Just like the consequences of leaving aren't the same as the consequences of staying gone.

#Stucky #Steve and Bucky #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #fanfic #XOXOBUCKYBARNES' Stucky Fic Reading List #december reading list

62 notes · View notes

searchingforserendipity25 · 1 year

Text

Brainstorming on the Maglor = Lindir concept for @funwithfanon and here’s a list of different takes, in no particular order:

Lindir does not exist. It’s more of a temporary, honorary rank, a job description - anyone can be the Lindir of Rivendell if their application is accepted. Duties include diplomacy, welcoming guests, playing the harp, singing beautifully, babysitting and being able to remember all the Dúnedain’s names. The usual contract goes for fifteen summers, which is much less than the regular yéni. Whatever you do, do not ask why Lord Elrond is very particular about having an open call for minstrels going on regularly. The Lindor of the book events is just some guy who is here for the steady pay to save up for a fancy dowry to take on his Ship to Valinor. It’s not that he has a sweetheart or anything, but he fully intends to nab himself a hot, rich, and influential Calaquendi once he gets to the West, and Elrond’s court is a good place to practice. I, for one, respect Lindir’s hustle.

The same, but the current Lindir is Maglor. This is never discussed. If you recognize him, no you don’t. He shows up for the fifteen years, and then goes away, and then comes back. It’s fine. They don’t talk about it. It’s definitely fine! The job interviews have gone from dramatic to downright farcical. Neither of them is willing to be the first one to crack. The first time, Elrond gets to ask for a portfolio and watch Maglor draw a blank on anything that isn't a lament. By the fourth time, he has a long repertoire of new works inspired by Imladris ready, all dedicated to its gracious and most generous lord. They come up with ridiculously complicated linguistic crossword games and then swap them to play over morning tea. Again, I cannot overstate how much they do not Talk About It.

Lindir is of the Falathrim of Sirion and he will fight you if you ask whether he’s secretly Maglor Fëanorian. He will hit you with his gigantic gold-and-ivory harp and you will deserve it.

Lindir is Maglor. Ish. Maglor-ghost. Maglor's remaint. If you look at him too hard the edges of him start to blur, like an old crosshatching drawing left to blur in the sun for too long. The shadow he casts upon the wall rests over his shoulders like a cloak. He is also rather misty. Somewhere by the sea, a body has been eaten by the fish, but the fëa wandered far inland and found refuge in the valley where all those in pain are made welcome. One day Elrond woke to a faint song. He followed it through the stairs of his house until he found - the smouldering embers in Hall of Fire stirring, and a darker darkness singing. Lindir has been part of the household ever since.

Lindir is Daeron. He loves the line of Lúthien more than all things, except for the Lady Celebrían, who was the one who found him, once, by the still dark waters of the North, and brought him home to the valley where the guards sing nonsense and the air in the twilit starlight smells nothing at all and very much like Melian’s kingdom in the days before the Sun and the Moon.

Maglor did not defend himself, whenever anyone found him wandering by the sea Maglor never defended himself, with words or Song, steel or harp. Not from wolves, or orcs, brigands or avengers, from the wrathful sea or the elements. Varda's Hallowing had scorched him through, a maddening and encompassing pain, the sort of continuous justice that left very little space for anything that was not regret. He could not defend himself from it, or the absolute, star-bright knowledge that its horror and ugliness should not and could not be denied. By the time he came again among the elves, there was very little left to recognize him by. He was so plainly beyond the ability to do harm - getting him in custody was less a matter of containing him than making certain no one went and killed him. It is imprisonment, in the sense that he’s in custody. There will be no Kinslayings or executions in Imladris (Glorfindel's passionate defence of Turgon's precedent aside), and even if it were allowed - no one could put him on trial presently. Elf parole gets invented eventually, after he is in the healing halls for half an Age, and slowly readjusts to society again. Much has his countenance changed, in grief and pain, and from wounds besides; few people recognize him outright. It takes him a long, long time before he touches a harp again, and longer still before he can be certain enough of himself to sing before an audience.

You would not have caught Maglor Fëanorian admitting he could not identify a poem’s authorial contributions, be he dead or damned or deranged. Luckily, local musical prodigy Lindir, born and bred in Imladris, does not have weird First Age perfectionist hang-ups. Elrond’s students all have a perfectly non-traumatic apprenticeship and are very well-adjusted, thank you very much.

Lindir is a nightingale Arwen accidentally turned into an elf. Listen, it's a thing, it happens with Peredhel sometimes. He’s - adjusting. Focused on playing the harp to develop finger coordination and ended up enjoying it a great deal, after the first challenging yéni (Fingers! Tiny bony bits! What a notion. Lindir misses his beak sometimes). He does still trill sometimes; his old friends answer him during their afternoon songs, it is quite a sight. Mortals are very strange and they have the bad habit of dying fairly often just when he’s started to recognize them, but he likes the way the scruffy one makes his lady smile so he does not chirp in with comments on his poetry. Not many comments, anyway.

They take his harp away, at first. Glorfindel, who had seen him in battle, wanted anted a geas of silence. But that would be a waste, in its way. His voice is bound to the valley instead, to the protection of it, and the working of its purpose as a place of safety and succour. Eternal servitude to the line of Earendil is not, objectively, the worst punishment that could befall the last Kinslayer. If Elrond is not entirely easy with having him in Imladris, neither is he able to countenance the idea that he might go free, and unaccounted for. The might in him goes away from his mouth, and beyond his mastery. He sings, sometimes, when it is for the benefit of the valley. That he must be of use is a just demand, and a kinder end than exile. A grace, in its way - and it is not as if he has any reason or right to have any wish in his heart that is not to serve the line of Elwing. It is not, Maglor knows well, the cruellest captivity a soul has ever suffered. He can even speak, if he wishes; and in time, among the long Ages, he does gather enough nerve to ask leave to sing in the Hall of Fire in company, on those moonless nights when he is not needed to sing enchantments of protection. A minstrel can have many duties, after all. There are many ways to serve, in small and deedless fashion, without doing any harm. Pity is not torment, for all it is difficult to withstand, and difficult the making of a gift rich enough to answer it. Well, and he is an excellent minstrel; that much he can offer still, and he does it willingly. They call him Lindir, and that is fair, as well - it is only that Lindir does not and must not and cannot sing laments.

Maglor the Kinslayer is the minstrel Lindir. Everyone knows this. It's not clear whether Lindir, who cries when the cooks behead the hen and hums to the horses and loathes the silver sound of a drawn sword, does know this.

#maglor #lindir #elrond #funwithfanon #rivendell

207 notes · View notes

hugmeimtouchdeprived · 2 months

Text

Ghost!Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x fem!reader - Prologue

A little prologue, I guess? I do want to make this into a proper fic, just a bit busy now so I'm not sure how often I'll be able to write.

English isn't my first language and this is my first fic, so please bare with me!

Inspired by @ghouljams's ghost!Ghost fics!

(Yes I did write something for this previously on a different account but ended up deleting it for reasons)

Content warning: MW3 (2023) major spoilers, major character death right at the beginning, not edited because it's 1am and I'm feeling lazy but really want to post this, please let me know if I need to add more, I'm still new to this!

Soap x reader, this one is from Johnny's POV but the next part will be reader's POV.

Original drabble | Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

It’s odd, really, how quick it all happened. From defusing a bomb to saving his captain to getting shot. He hadn’t even realized he was dead at first, although it should have been obvious in hindsight. No one could survive being shot in the head from point-blank range like that, not even an elite soldier.

Truly understanding what had happened took a while. Sure, he could see his own limp body on the ground as his teammates stood around him, when it was delicately put in a body bag and carried away, but it didn’t hit him until way later. It was more confusing than anything when he tried to tell them he was alright, that he was right there, and nobody would listen. Nobody would even look at him.

He watched as people came in and out of the tunnel for the next few days, doing their investigations and cleaning up the corpses and the blood, until everything went back to normal. Trains ran by as scheduled, workers hustling about.

Johnny was deep in denial for a long, long time. He can’t be dead, absolutely not. Look, he’s right here! Just- just look at him. Please look at him, say something to him. Why the fuck is everyone ignoring him?

No, actually, it’s just a bad dream. That’s what it is. He’s having a very vivid nightmare, one that feels like it just won’t end. But it will. Definitely. He’s going to wake up at base, or maybe back at his apartment in the city, and he’ll go to work and tell everyone about the weirdly realistic nightmare he just had, and they’ll all have a laugh about it.

But days turn into weeks, and he’s still there. It catches up slowly that this is no dream. He’s not going to simply wake up, not this time. He keeps going between absolute hopelessness and uncontainable rage. How could this happen? Sure he knew the risks of his job, that his life could end with little to no warning at any moment. Still, it’s almost impossible to actually comprehend once it has happened. What will his family think when they get the news? How will his poor mother handle it, if at all?

What about his team? They’re trained soldiers, best of the best. They’ve all lost friends, loved ones, teammates. They’ve seen it all before, surely this is no different. Just another Tuesday. No, they’re a family. At least in Johnny’s eyes. They must miss him, grief in their own ways.

And then there’s Makarov. Johnny can’t help but wonder where he is, what he’s doing. The 141 must still be on his tail, if they haven’t caught him already.

Johnny hopes they give him hell. For everything he’s done, and selfishly, Johnny hopes they make sure to avenge him while they’re at it.

Acceptance of this new reality comes agonizingly slow. Johnny tries to force it, tries to convince himself that it’s okay, it was bound to happen eventually. It just happened sooner than he had dared to hope. But that’s how it goes, people die, the world moves on.

He does eventually move around the underground tunnels. He could leave. At least he’s pretty sure he could if he tried, but he doesn’t want to. Maybe someday, but what good would it do now? Watching his loved ones grieve his passing, wondering how the hell they can go on. Johnny knows he was loved. He is loved. And he is full of love, even if he didn’t always show it in a traditional way. But the people around him definitely knew it, Johnny always made sure of it.

And now he’s alone.

He wanders the underground tunnels, watching the trains rush by. Makes sure to step aside when they do, still afraid of being hit. Refuses to even test it if he’d just pass right through them or other solid objects and surfaces (or maybe he does pass his hand or entire arm through some worker in a bright vest, just to see if he can. It’s not like the man will ever know anyway, despite the cold shiver that seems to go up his spine.)

Finding himself at a platform with people passing by at almost all hours of the day feels like a relief. Nobody will still acknowledge him, but the hustle and bustle fills his days with something, and that’s definitely better than nothing. It’s boring and mundane but feels less lonely. He watches as people rush to work, complain about the weather and how the train is late again, teenagers loitering around and kids playing at their parents’ feet as they wait. Occasionally he’ll see some dramatic show of goodbyes and breakups and arguments and heartbreaks of all kinds. He’ll see reunions, online friends meeting for the first time. Even watched some poor bloke propose to his girlfriend. She had awkwardly declined and quickly hopped on the next train, leaving her boyfriend on the platform. Johnny would have felt bad for the young man, if the couple hadn’t looked like they were on their first date.

He makes stories about people, especially ones who take this route often. Wondering where they’re coming from, where they’re going and why. What the lives of these seemingly regular civilians must be like. The single mom who gets on the train almost every day with two screaming toddlers in tow. The young man always smoking, ignoring the glares and the security telling him off. The old woman who comes by alone, often not even getting on a train and opting to sit near the stairs for a couple hours, a few days a week, just people watching. Just like Johnny, he supposes.

That’s how the first months go by. Johnny isn’t sure how long, there’s no point in keeping count of the days, weeks, months. He’s dead, what’s he going to do with that information? Well, he does keep some track of the days, reading headlines of newspapers and articles over people’s shoulders as they wait, just to keep some track of what’s going on in the world outside the tube network.

Yeah, it’s still boring as hell. Faces passing by, day by day.

Johnny is tempted to leave, or at least see if he can. There’s only so many things to see at a train station until it starts to numb his mind. He could probably see the world. Other than war zones and safehouses and such, that is. Do ghosts go on vacations? Can they go on vacations? Johnny doesn’t know much about what ghosts – at least he thinks he’s a ghost, or a spirit of some kind – like him are capable of. Too many movies and stories about the subject, all so similar but oh so different from one another. Guess there’s no better time than the present to find out, huh?

Those plans of leaving for good are quickly forgotten when something – someone – catches his eye one day. Not even sure why, he feels drawn to her, like a magnet. And after just a few days of seeing her almost daily as she gets on a train in the morning and returns later in the evening, it just doesn’t feel enough for poor lil’ Johnny. Whatever this is, he can't just let her be. Especially when, for a brief moment, he believes she looked at him. Actually looked straight at him.

Well, maybe he will try and leave this tunnel, after all.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! 🌷This was a fairly quick thing, just because I wanted to get this little fic started, and starting a new project is always the hardest part in my experience. Just wanted to get the ball rolling, ya know? Just getting those brainworms out.

Original drabble | Chapter 1

#cod mw x reader #cod mw3 spoilers #ghost!soap #johnny mactavish x you #johnny mactavish x reader #cod x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x you #soap x reader #soap x you #cod mw3 #modern warfare 3

34 notes · View notes

nerdzzone · 1 year

Text

Worlds Apart

Chapter Eight

Summary: Single mom, Bridget Clark, thought that she was fine by herself. Moving her son to a new town and out of the hustle and bustle of Boston, she thought that life would be quieter and simpler, but a chance encounter with a certain Hollywood actor only a week after their big move had her questioning everything. Bridget was faced with the ultimate decision of head vs heart, but would letting her guard down prove to be worth the risk?

Note: Just a reminder that this will be the last chapter before this story goes on hiatus. I have so much planned so I'm hoping that just a short break will reignite my inspiration, but I need a bit of a break right now. I'm so grateful for all the support that this story has received - every single comment really means so much! - and I will still be around every now and then if anyone has any questions or wants to chat!

-----

“You know, I always thought that really big TVs were just unnecessarily extravagant, but looking at yours I can see the appeal.”

Bridget shared her observation as she sank into Chris’ couch, watching as he searched around the room for the remote and muttered to himself about how he could never find anything after his brother had stayed with him. Dinner had been delicious and expertly cooked by Chris himself - even though he did admit that his mother had talked him through it very thoroughly beforehand and provided him with a recipe that she was sure he couldn’t mess up - and after another discussion about whether or not Bridget was allowed to help tidy up after the meal, they were settling on the couch to watch a movie.

“It felt extravagant when I bought it,” Chris admitted with a smile before letting out a cheer of victory when he finally located the remote. “But then when it was here and up on the wall, it didn’t seem quite so big.”

“It works well in this space,” Bridget agreed as Chris flopped down onto the soft cushion beside her and flicked on the TV. “So, what are we going to watch?”

“I dunno,” Chris shrugged. “You’re the guest, you can pick.”

“Oh, really?” Bridget smirked. “What about Captain America then?”

“I mean, we could if you really want to…” From the tone of his voice and the cringe on his face it was clear that it wouldn’t be his first choice and he elaborated despite her teasing tone. “To be honest, I don’t really mind watching any of those Marvel movies, but it seems a little self-obsessed to showcase my own movies to a woman I’m trying to impress.”

“It would only be self-obsessed if you suggested it,” Bridget countered. “But don’t worry, I won’t make you watch them. I’m catching up in my own time.”

“Are you?”

The surprised raise of Chris’ eyebrow at that admission had a blush rising on Bridget’s cheeks as she nodded her head.

“Yeah, I only ever saw the first one so I thought it would be a good idea to catch up,” she admitted. “But they’re a little too old for Landon so it’s taking me a while to find the time.”

“Well, that’s cute,” Chris teased, smirking as she swatted at him. “What do you think?”

“They’re good movies,” she assured him. “But I do think your costume could be just a little bit tighter. It doesn’t really give you the opportunity to show off all your big muscles.”

Her sarcastic criticism had a laugh bursting from Chris’ chest as he playfully nodded in agreement.

“That’s what I keep saying! I don’t know why they even bother making me wear a costume at all.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Bridget giggled. “That would be a whole different kinda movie.”

“The Avengers: Rated R,” Chris joked. “It’s probably on the internet somewhere already.”

“Maybe we should watch that.”

The suggestion pulled another chuckled from Chris’ lips, but he quickly shot it down and scrolled through Netflix until they settled on Back to the Future - a movie they’d both seen several times, but one that could always capture their attention. However, despite the captivating movie on the screen, it took less than half an hour for Bridget to find herself getting distracted. As the movie started, they’d relaxed into the couch with Bridget ending up tucked into Chris’ side with his arm draped over her shoulder. The close proximity - and the way it allowed her to indulge in his scent and the feel of his hard, toned chest - was enough to have her thoughts drifting away from the screen, but the way he lazily traced his fingers over the skin of her shoulder had her mind truly struggling to focus on anything else.

Inspired by his touch, she let her own hand start to wander as it drifted over the soft material of his t-shirt and the muscles beneath it until it was draped over his waist. She felt him tense - almost as if he was flexing for her benefit - but he didn’t have much of a noticeable reaction to her trailing fingers until they reached his side where she discovered that the way they were lounging on the couch had caused his shirt to ride up. She was surprised at first to feel his skin, but the way his breath hitched as she brushed over it encouraged her to explore a little further.

By that point, the movie was entirely out of Bridget’s mind as she waited for him to stop her or protest the action of her hand sliding under his shirt, but when he offered no resistance she took advantage of the opportunity to continue her explorations. However, when her gentle touch moved higher up his waist and a slight shiver ran through his body at the sensation, his voice broke their silence and shattered the illusion that either of them were still paying attention to the TV.

“Bridget…”

His tone was low - her name falling from his lips as barely more than a murmur - but it was enough to have her eyes flicking up to meet his, glancing up at him from under her lashes as she bit her bottom lip. The tension between them was reaching an unignorable point, but Bridget paused any movement to make sure that he hadn’t stopped her because she’d overstepped and was relieved when Chris took advantage of the way her head had tilted up towards his to capture her lips.

There had been nerves bubbling under the surface earlier in the evening as their flirtatious and alluding conversation a few days earlier still played on Bridget’s mind, but the comfort she found in the increasing familiarity of his kiss and the air of growing desperation between them had those doubts quickly reduced to a fuzzy memory in the back of her mind. Her worry was replaced by a softly burning need inside her as her hand drifted up to cup the back of his neck. Her intention was to keep him close, but as he slid his own hand under her arm and used it to easily lift her until she was straddled across his lap, it was clear that he was feeling the same desire that she was.

She felt a flush of self-consciousness when she realized that their new position had the sundress she was wearing riding up on her thighs, but as Chris moved his hands down to stroke the newly exposed skin, he let out a groan that had a new feeling washing over her. She felt sexy. She felt desirable. And that made her feel confident enough to focus on her determination to make Chris feel the same way rather than any insecurities. She knew she was out of practice and terrified that it might show, but every time the little anxious voice in the back of her head raised its concerns, Chris would unknowingly pull her back into the moment.

The hitch of his breath as she let her lips trail down along his jaw, the way he swallowed hard as she dipped lower to trace her tongue over the beat of his pulse in his neck, the increase in the pressure of his fingertips against the top of her thighs when she gently rocked her hips against his. She was fixated on every subtle hint of approval of her actions and his clear enjoyment had her tension easing as she relaxed - especially when another roll of her hips made it clear just how much he was appreciating her actions. The feel of the sudden strain rising in the basketball shorts he was wearing was more than enough proof that she hadn’t lost her skills entirely and she broke the seal where her lips had locked onto his neck as she let out a hum of pleasure.

“That feels good,” she murmured before placing another soft kiss above the edge of the collar of his shirt as her hands slid up under the hem. “I wanna make you feel good too.”

“Yeah?”

Chris’ voice was low and husky and had Bridget leaning back to confirm with a nod of her head before she dipped back in for another kiss.

She could feel her heart racing and hoped that its thudding wasn’t as obvious to Chris as she plucked up the courage to put her plan into action. Their tongues clashed as their hands wandered and groped at any exposed skin they could find, but the final necessary surge of inspiration she needed came as Chris slid his hands under her dress high enough to cup the cheeks of her ass to pull her hips tightly against his own. Their lips parted as Bridget gasped at the sensation, but when he slackened his grip and chased after her mouth, Bridget leaned back and flashed him a smirk before sliding off of his lap to kneel on the floor by his feet.

Chris let his knees fall apart to give her a little more room, but there was a curiosity burning in his gaze as she stroked the hair on his thigh, dipping her fingers under the hem of his shorts.

“Can I make you feel good?”

Bridget bit her lip as she glanced up at him, waiting for confirmation as she watched him tip his head back and gasp out a whispered ‘fuck’ before he let out a long breath and agreed.

“Yes,” he nodded, lifting his hips as her hands immediately moved to pull his shorts down his thighs, taking a moment to flick the TV off. “Please.”

She smiled at his politeness, but any teasing comments disappeared from her mind as soon as he was free of his pants and she was immediately distracted by the task at hand. Her lack of recent practice floated back into her mind as she took him in her hand, but she knew that enthusiasm could make up for a lot and tried to focus on the confidence that his eagerness had given her. The way he groaned as she gently stroked him was reassuring that she hadn’t entirely forgotten how the process worked and the way his hand shot down to grab the back of her head when she leaned forward to take his tip into her mouth reminded her just how enjoyable it could be to have so much power.

Sliding lower, she stayed focused on his reactions - his grip in her hair, the twitches of his hips, the soft groans and gasps falling from his lips - but it didn’t take her long to relax into it and get lost in the thrill of giving him pleasure. She took him deep, appreciating how he never used his hand to force her movements and allowed her to set the pace as she bobbed her head up and down. She noted how he swore every time her tongue traced its way along the thick vein on the bottom of his cock and the way he groaned every time he hit the back of her throat. She revelled in the chance to learn exactly what he liked and had to admit that his pleasure was adding to her own growing arousal, only motivating her further to help him chase his peak.

Her hand moved to slowly stroke at the base of his cock as she focused her attention at his sensitive tip and in another flush of confidence, she lifted her gaze up to look at him. The sight of him watching her with his jaw slack and cheeks flushed immediately pulled a hum of pleasure from her lips and the sensation that provided for Chris had his eyebrows creasing together as he panted out her name. She could tell he was getting close and kept her pace steady as she hollowed her cheeks until his body tensed up and he found his release.

A flush of pride washed over her as she helped him through his high until she finally pulled away, swallowing before she crawled back up to curl up on the couch beside him. Her pride only grew as she took in the sight of Chris with his chest heaving as he fought to steady his breath and a blissed out look on his face, but when he recovered and cracked open an eye to glance at her with a smirk on his face, the words that came out of his mouth immediately put her on edge.

“That was great,” he commended her, letting his hand slide over his knee where it pressed against his thigh. “Now it’s my turn.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

Despite the way her smile faltered, her words had a chuckle falling from Chris’ lips as he slipped back into his shorts.

“I know I don’t have to,” he smiled. “But I want to.”

That claim had Bridget raising a skeptical eyebrow as she resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Seriously, Chris, you don’t have to.”

Her insistence had Chris pausing as he turned towards her and studied her face for a moment before he countered with a question.

“Do you not want me to?” He kept his gaze steady, but Bridget suddenly found it difficult to meet his eye and simply shrugged in response. “Can I ask why?”

Bridget took a moment to think of the best way to answer his question. She could feel the heat of her embarrassment taking over from the heat of the arousal she’d been feeling moments earlier as her cheeks flushed for a less enjoyable reason, but she forced herself to work through her rising anxiety to respond in a somewhat articulate way.

“From my experience,” she started, nervously chewing her bottom lip. “That’s not something that men actually like to do and I don’t mind so you don’t have to do it just to impress me.”

She expected to see relief wash over Chris when she shared her sincere reassurance, but Bridget was surprised when her words had him chuckling.

“No offense, but I think there’s a pretty good reason why your ex maybe isn’t the best spokesperson for what most straight men enjoy in bed.”

“It’s not just him,” Bridget protested. “I met him when I was twenty-four, I did date other men before that.”

“And they all made you feel like it was a chore?”

The shock was clear in his voice and there was a look of something that seemed like disgust on his face that only deepened when Bridget clarified.

“They didn’t make it feel like a chore, they just made it clear that they weren’t interested in reciprocating.”

“So none of them ever did?” His tone was incredulous and he stared in disbelief as Bridget nodded in confirmation. “So no one has ever gone down on you?”

The blunt question had Bridget’s cheeks heating up even more as she fought the urge to run for the door and far away from the humiliating conversation as she felt the need to defend herself.

“It’s not a big deal,” she insisted. “I’m obviously not a virgin or Landon wouldn’t be here, but I will admit that my sexual repertoire is probably lacking compared to yours and I’m aware that might not be particularly appealing.”

Her tone was defensive, but as Chris recommenced stroking her thigh she knew that he really hadn’t meant any offense.

“It’s not unappealing at all, intriguing would be a better word,” he assured her. “And we don’t have to do anything that you’re not comfortable with, but the offer still stands if it’s something you’re interested in trying.”

He flicked his eyes back up to meet Bridget’s and this time she held his gaze as she took a moment to think about it.

“It really wouldn’t be a chore for you?” She asked, using his own word to describe it. “You don’t mind?”

“It would be a pleasure,” Chris insisted, a smirk drifting onto his face as his hand drifted between her knees and traced a little higher on the inside of her thigh when they naturally parted. “I’d love to make you feel good, watch you squirm, get you calling out my name.”

His words sent a shiver of anticipation through Bridget as she shifted a little bit closer, giving his hand more space to explore as she stretched to hover her lips above his.

“Then I think I would like to give it a try.”

“You think?”

Chris’ voice had dipped back to a lower octave as he prompted a more clear confirmation and Bridget swallowed hard, pushing her doubts from her mind as she gave it.

“I know,” she told him. “I know I would.”

That was all the reassurance that Chris needed to close the gap and capture her lips in another kiss. His hand reluctantly slipped from her legs to wrap around her waist and any lingering embarrassment quickly dissipated as Bridget melted into his embrace giving him the leverage he needed to easily lift her back onto his lap. The need she’d been feeling earlier returned just as quickly as it had faded as the excitement of what was to come had her imagination running wild. There was a flicker of anxiety - a worry about being as exposed as she knew she was about to be and the vulnerability that came with it - but she trusted Chris. He’d been so patient about taking things slow, he’d never pushed her or tried anything to hurry things along physically or emotionally, and if she was being honest, his genuine lack of judgement to her lack of varied sexual experience had only added to her arousal.

Their tongues clashed as Bridget tried to keep her mind in the moment, but as her hips pressed against Chris’ - growing desperate for some kind of friction - she pulled her lips away from his with a gasp as he rose from the couch with his hands gripping her thighs to keep her pressed against him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and gripped his shoulders tightly to stop herself from slipping, but the feel of his biceps bulging as he easily carried her weight had her letting out a quiet whimper and dipping to press her lips against his neck in a effort to distract herself from the overwhelming tension building inside her. By the time he’d moved them to the bedroom and carefully placed her on his large and very plush bed, the anticipation had the fever burning between them turning into desperation as it seemed that they couldn’t get enough of each other.

However, once Chris’ shirt had been ripped over his head and Bridget’s dress had been tossed across the room and he’d settled with his hips between her thighs, Chris slowed down their frantic actions to regain control of the situation.

“We’ve got lots of time,” he murmured into her ear as his hand ran over the now exposed curve of her waist. “I want to enjoy this.”

Probably contrary to what he’d intended, his words had another flush of heat washing over Bridget that had her almost wishing he’d just tear her underwear off of her and get down to business as the thought of him wanting to savour the moment was almost too much for her to bear. They did have lots of time - they had all night - but Bridget was already feeling embarrassingly needy for some kind of release and if Chris was going to continue being so tender and gentle about it then she was worried that she would have to start begging.

He trailed his lips down her neck, taking the time to place kisses on every inch of skin that he passed until he slid his tongue along her collarbone. The sensation made her shiver, but as he reached the strap of her bra and moved down until his tongue could trace the cup of her bra, her breath caught in her throat. His hands moved to her sides, prompting her to arch her back enough for him to unhook her bra and slip it off her body and Bridget felt her nerves rising back to the surface. She had explanations ready - excuses for why her body probably wasn’t as perky and tight as the actresses and models that Chris was used to seeing naked - but when she saw the way he was looking at her newly exposed skin, her words seemed unnecessary.

He looked mesmerized. His pupils were dark and wide, his jaw hung open the way it had when she was stroking him earlier in the evening and as the word ‘gorgeous’ slipped from his lips, Bridget truly believed him. She felt desirable. She felt beautiful. She felt wanted. And the emotions those feelings had rising in her chest had her reaching out to Chris where he knelt, staring down at her and pulling him back in for another kiss. He indulged her for a moment before she felt him smile against her lips and pull away, moving back down her body to where his trail of kisses had previously led him.

Bridget watched him, holding her breath in anticipation until he captured one of her pebbled nipples in his mouth and she gasped at the sensation. Lifting his hand to tease and tweak the other, he expertly worked her until she was practically panting as she squirmed beneath him desperate for any kind of friction she could find. He switched his mouth to the other side, but it didn’t take long for Bridget to grow desperate for more and as his name slipped from her mouth like a whimpered plea, he smiled against her skin and continued moving lower as he explored her body.

He left barely an inch of her skin untouched as his hands and mouth roamed over her stomach, making her muscles quiver as goosebumps rose in their wake. By the time his lips met the edge of her underwear, Bridget felt more appreciated, cared for and admired than she had during any previous sexual encounter that she’d ever had. She felt worshipped in a way that had her almost dizzy with pleasure until Chris’ voice helped her refocus.

“You still want this?” He asked. “You still sure?”

His breath against her skin was enough to have her biting back a moan, but after she firmly and enthusiastically informed him that she was absolutely still sure and he gently pushed his hand between her thighs to trace her through her underwear, she couldn’t hold anything back. He wasn’t even touching her directly yet, but she was so worked up that she felt like it was almost enough to make her explode. She felt his breath hit her stomach again in short bursts as he chuckled at her response, but she was relieved that he took pity on her after barely more than a moment of teasing and helped her add her underwear to their growing pile of discarded clothes.

There was a moment when she was finally fully exposed to him that Bridget felt the vulnerability of the situation cutting through her desperation. If Chris hadn’t been settled between her legs, she probably would have snapped them shut, but as he soothed the inside of her thighs with kisses she once again found that the care Chris was taking made it easy to open herself up to him.

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmured, pressing his lips into the soft skin of the crease at the top of her thigh. Bridget felt a blush rising in her cheeks, but the awe in his voice only turned her on even more. “Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

Bridget opened her mouth to agree, but Chris moved his lips and the feel of his tongue tracing along her wet folds left her unable to form any kind of response other than that a strangled gasp of pleasure. Much like he’d done to her earlier that day, Bridget found her fingers drawn to his hair and almost involuntarily gave him direction as her tightening grip told him every time he found a spot or movement that she particularly enjoyed as he explored with expert precision, lapping and sucking over every inch of her until she was writhing beneath him. His tongue dipped low - flexing with enough pressure to just barely dart inside her - and the raw moan that he let out as he savoured her taste had Bridget’s head falling back against the pillow as she wondered how she’d ever survived without such an experience.

She could feel herself racing towards her peak and the feeling only intensified when Chris focused his attention on the little bundle of nerves that he’d previously just been teasing. At first such direct efforts were too much, but when he noticed her hips suddenly shifting away and the sounds falling from her lips becoming a little more strained, he quickly eased the intensity of his licking and sucking until he had her back at a place where she was urging him closer again. After the long build up of her earlier enjoyment of giving Chris pleasure and his intoxicating exploration of her body, it didn’t take long for the heat to reach a boiling point and as Chris kept himself locked in position, Bridget fell apart beneath him. She cried out his name as her body tensed and her muscles shook, but Chris stayed locked in place and guided her through it. As her chest heaved, her heart raced and the last quivers of pleasure ran through her, she watched Chris reluctantly peel himself away and drift his kisses up over her hip before back up her body, bracing himself so his chest hovered over hers.

“Wow,” she smiled, letting her hands slide up to stroke the back of Chris’ neck as he watched her with a smug smirk on his face. “I think I liked that.”

“You think?”

Disbelief was dripping from the words and Bridget bit back a smirk of her own as she nodded her head.

“I think so, but I might have to try it a few more times just to be sure.”

Chris’ shoulders shook as he chuckled at her claim, but he was quick to offer some assurance.

“I could do that for hours,” he informed her, the sincerity in his voice making it sound almost like a threat and sending a shiver down Bridget’s spine. “We can try it as often as you let me.”

“That’s a very appealing offer,” she informed him. “But I think right now I just really want you inside me.”

She saw his eyes widen in surprise at her blunt request, but as the words sunk in he let out a growl and pressed his lips back against hers. She could feel him pressing against her now dripping center despite the layer of his shorts still separating them and the knowledge that he’d taken so much pleasure from what he’d just done for her was enough to light another fire in her already. The desperate, frantic way he was attacking her mouth only made her more eager as well as their tongues clashed and noses bumped and Bridget hooked her leg over Chris’ hip, trying to use the heel of her foot to push down his shorts and get them out of the way. After a moment of struggling she managed to get them to the top of his thighs, but Chris took pity on her and reluctantly pulled away from her mouth to rid himself of them completely, quickly taking a moment to grab a condom from the nightstand as well before he returned the warmth of his body to Bridget’s and settled back between her legs.

A flicker of her earlier nerves resurfaced as her recent years of celibacy made Chris’ size a little extra intimidating, but his patience shined through as it had all evening as he slowly pressed his hips forward and slid inside her inch by inch. The burning of the initial stretch had her sucking in a sharp breath that had Chris pausing, but her previous release had her more than ready and it took barely a minute for the sting to subside and for her to press herself up towards him, urging him deeper. He paused again once he was fully seated inside her and the shaky breath that Bridget let out had shifted from discomfort to one of anticipation.

“You good?”

The strain of restraint was obvious in Chris’ voice, but the soft murmur of concern had Bridget’s heart fluttering in her chest. She wiggled her hips experimentally, letting out a soft moan from how fully he had filled her as Chris groaned at the friction.

“I’m great,” she assured him, letting her hand slide up into his hair as he dipped his head down to nip at her neck. “Feels so good.”

He started off cautiously, but that was all the confirmation Chris needed to start moving his hips. Giving her time to get used to the feeling, his movements were slow and let Bridget feel every inch of him as he pulled out and pressed back, creating a steady rhythm. The measured actions had every nerve he touched lighting up with pleasure as she clung to him, rocking her hips to meet every thrust.

He stretched her out so perfectly, it seemed almost like his body was made for hers, but while it was a sensation she’d missed, the intimacy - the care he was taking with her, the concern for her comfort and pleasure, the deep connection as they shared something that left them both so exposed to each other - had been what she’d really craved and it only heightened her pleasure. He was overwhelming all her senses as he touched every part of her so deeply, but she was somehow still desperate for more as she pulled him down tightly against her chest.

She could feel his breath washing over her skin from his pants and groans as the pace of his thrusts picked up speed. Again, her previous experience had set her expectations low and as much as she’d ached to feel him inside her, she hadn’t expected to find another release and she was surprised to feel how quickly the tension was coiling in her stomach. The angle of his movements, the friction hitting nerves that she barely knew existed, the steadiness of his thrusts that allowed her peak to build, and the sounds of his own pleasure echoing around the room - it soon became too much for her to handle and her nails sunk into the skin of his back as her body tensed and his name fell from her lips with a cry of pleasure. Chris continued his careful movements as she clenched around him, but as she came down from her high, she felt his restraint weaken as his thrusts grew fiercer and more sloppy while he chased his own release. It took barely more than a few extra thrusts for Chris to cry out against her neck as his hips stilled and he fell over the edge.

They stayed connected with only the sounds of their breathing filling the room until their euphoria settled and Chris pulled out, taking a moment to discard the condom in the garbage can under his nightstand before he rolled back to pull Bridget into his arms. They stayed quiet for a few minutes - simply enjoying each other’s embrace as they relished the blissful feeling of a good release - but as Bridget gently ran her fingers over the toned muscles of Chris’ chest as she curled into his side, she broke the silence with a tentative question.

“Do you mind if I stay here tonight?”

He’d offered the other night so she was fairly certain that it wouldn’t be too much to ask, but there was a brief moment after the words left her mouth where her fear of rejection crept up again until she felt him squeezing her even tighter against his side as he quickly reassured her.

“Of course I don’t mind,” he insisted, pressing a kiss against the top of her head. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

Bridget smiled, placing a kiss of her own against his chest as she could hardly believe that she’d been lucky enough to find a man like Chris. Six months earlier the thought of dating hadn’t even crossed her mind. She’d firmly believed that she was happy on her own and that as long as Landon was happy and fulfilled then her life was as full as she needed it to be. But Chris had smashed through a wall that she hadn’t even realized she’d built around her life and with every moment they shared and milestone they passed, it was harder and harder for Bridget to imagine her life without him in it.

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fan fic #chris evans smut #worlds apart

90 notes · View notes

late-to-the-party-81 · 5 months

Text

Time spent with you is never wasted

AN: Here is something completely different to my last little one-shot. Have some sickeningly sweet, domestic supersoldier husbands.

Beta’d by @deafeningkittenking. Moodboard by me and divider by @firefly-graphics

This fic covers the following bingo squares

@buckybarnesbingo: U5 - Snowed In

@stuckybingo: N4 - Domesticity

@steverogersbingo: E2 - Holidays

Master list | BBB Master list | Stucky Bingo Master list | SRB Master list

Join my tag list here

Summary: A little break away, just the two of them. Whatever shall Steve and Bucky do when they get snowed in?

Relationship: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Word count: 2.2k

CW: Sickening Fluff, Not Endgame Compliant, Supersoldier Husbands, Domestic Fluff, Flirting, Smut, Top Bucky, Bottom Steve, Ass Eating, Coming untouched, Anal fingering, Anal Sex

I’m dreaming of a White Christmas,

Just like the ones I used to know…

Bucky scoffed as he listened to the music, causing Steve to chuckle.

“What have you taken umbrage to in this song? We haven’t found one yet that you actually like.”

Bucky smiled and shook his head as he walked away from the window of their holiday cabin and crossed to the small kitchenette. He slotted himself behind Steve, who was standing at the counter measuring ingredients, wearing a Santa Claus apron. Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s trim waist and rested his head on his husband’s shoulder, watching as Steve added spoonfuls of sugar to the bowl and the needle on the scales went round.

“First of all,” Bucky muttered into Steve’s navy tee, “the White Christmases I remember were more ice on the inside of the windows and dirty slush in the streets - nothing you’d want to willingly remember, and secondly, if you’re dreaming about the type of White Christmas that’s currently outside this window, you need your head read.”

Bucky reached out and gesticulated out of the huge floor to ceiling windows to the large drifts covering the ground as far as the eye could see, and the current snowfall that was nearer to the word ‘blizzard’ than it was to ‘flurry’.

There had already been snow on the ground when they’d driven up yesterday afternoon, but it had continued overnight, and when they’d woken up this morning - late for Steve, but a bit early still for Bucky - they’d discovered they’d been snowed in. Luckily though, they’d been planning to be here for a few days anyway, and had organised a suitable food delivery in advance. This was a holiday treat just for them - a private getaway before the hustle and bustle of a full Avengers ‘family’ Christmas.

At least, Bucky thought as he looked out at the snow, Steve wouldn’t try to get up for a run at the crack of dawn, and would need to find another way to work off his excess energy, like he had this morning

“I think it looks nice,” said Steve.

Bucky snorted. “‘Looks’ being the operative word here, pal. It’s a good thing that we’ve got nothing else to do other than relax, eat food and get lucky.” He slid his right hand down from Steve’s waist to lightly grope his cock through his sweatpants. Steve rapped Bucky’s arm with his wooden spoon.

“Hey, hands off the merchandise. At least until after these cookies have been baked,” Steve chastised.

“But I can’t help it if you look sexy with a sprinkle of flour across your cheek, my Domestic God,” Bucky teased, pressing his lips into Steve’s neck and making him squirm, before reluctantly pulling back and turning to lean against the countertop. “And what if instead of cookies I want cake?” He let his eyes blatantly roam over Steve’s ass, just imagining feasting on the plump flesh, Steve trembling and crying beneath him…

“My eyes are up here, Buck.”

Bucky smirked. “I know. Just admiring your other assets.”

Now it was Steve’s turn to smile. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

“Just madly in love, and no-one would blame me.”

Steve leant towards Bucky, wooden spoon still in hand, and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr Barnes-Rogers, but for now you’ll just have to wait.”

Bucky sighed dramatically, but settled in to do as asked. He watched Steve with a heated look as he finished making the cookie dough, rolled and cut it, then popped it in the oven. Straightening up, Steve met Bucky’s gaze, holding it as he slowly removed his flour-streaked apron and threw it on the counter.

“I’m going to wash up,” he said, pointedly. “The cookies need ten minutes, then you can take them out, leave to cool on the tray for two minutes then place on the rack.” He sashayed over to Bucky and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s middle. “You can do that for me, can’t you, Buck? I’ll make it worth your while…”

Steve pressed his body in close and kissed Bucky slowly, but deeply, before stepping away and walking towards the bedroom with an exaggerated sway to his hips.

Bucky just gawked, his brain trying to regain control from his dick long enough to remember what it was that Steve had asked him to do. While Steve did pout oh-so-prettily, it wouldn’t be worth it to forget, because Steve was also the biggest grudge holder Bucky had ever known. So, despite the fact that his dick was basically screaming at him to follow Steve into the shower, press him against the tiles and get him all dirty again, Bucky waited.

He waited until the timer went off, taking the golden brown sugar cookies out as directed. He waited a further two minutes for the cookies to firm up before using a palette knife to transfer them to the wire rack. He then forced himself to walk at a sensible speed to the bedroom, getting there just as Steve walked out of the en-suite, a small white towel wrapped snugly around his hips and another in his hand as he scrubbed at his blond hair.

It was then that Bucky allowed his self control to snap. In a few long strides he reached Steve, pulled the towel from his hand and threw it to the floor. His hands then cupped Steve’s cheeks and he started to kiss him. His tongue teased the seam of Steve’s lips and Steve opened to him, his own arms sliding around Bucky’s neck.

Bucky continued to walk forward, backing Steve up, until Steve’s legs hit the mattress and they both tumbled down onto it. The towel around Steve’s hips came loose almost straight away, meaning there was nothing to impede Bucky’s progress as he palmed at Steve’s cock once again. Encouraged by the movement of Steve’s hips and the little groan that came from his mouth, Bucky slid down Steve’s body, trailing kisses and little nips with his teeth. He took a long, slow detour over Steve’s pecs, sucking on his pert, pink nipples and relishing in the way Steve writhed beneath him. As he descended further, Steve’s hands tangled in his hair and tugged on it deliciously.

A long lick was the only attention Bucky paid to Steve’s cock as he reached it, feeling in the mood to tease his husband a bit. He then forced his thick arms and broad shoulders under Steve’s thighs and tugged him to the edge of the bed. His hands spread his husband wide and Bucky took a moment to look at Steve’s most intimate parts. Blond hair dusted Steve’s upper thighs, darkening around his crotch and ass. He wasn’t stripped bare, like they’d seen in modern pornography, but did keep himself tidy. Not that Bucky would have cared either way. Steve could have a full on jungle down here and Bucky would just declare himself a wilderness scout.

Steve’s skin was still wet from his shower, and Bucky could smell the combination of Steve’s favourite three in one shower gel along with his own, potent musk. He turned his face into the soft skin of Steve’s inner thigh and breathed in deeply, before taking the delicate flesh between his lips and sucking on it, leaving his mark. Steve whimpered and pulled on Bucky’s hair, trying to direct him to where he wanted him the most, but Bucky wouldn’t be rushed.

His nose brushed over Steve’s hole as he trailed his lips over more of the sensitive areas surrounding it, humming to himself almost absently as he worshipped his husband. He couldn’t hold back a smile at Steve’s punched out little noises of need and garbled whispers of “Buck… please!” Eventually though, he capitulated to his own lusts and Steve’s pleas, swiping his tongue straight over the furled muscle nestled between the globes of Steve’s ass.

Steve let out a low, moan, and Bucky was glad they were in an isolated cabin, miles from anyone or anything, because his favourite thing in the world was to hear Steve let go and just feel. It was something they’d never been able to do, back in the day, when they’d had to be covert in their small apartment. Now though, there was nothing Bucky enjoyed more than hearing Steve moan wantonly at the top of his lungs.

Bucky shifted his grip to take handfuls of that luscious ass, unable to resist squeezing and massaging Steve’s flesh as he ran his tongue over Steve’s hole and up his taint to his balls. He continued in this way, making Steve all wet, messy and overwhelmingly needy before moving on.

Moving his hands to the backs of Steve’s thighs, Bucky spread him even wider. Steve abandoned his hold on Bucky’s hair in order to hold his own legs to his chest, baring himself. A heartbeat later, Bucky was burying his face as far into Steve’s ass as he could, spearing his tongue into his husband’s spit-slick hole. Steve practically wailed.

Bucky ate Steve like a man starved, pushing his tongue in as deep as it would go. His nose now pushed against Steve’s taint, and therefore his prostate, so he rocked with it, fucking Steve with his mouth. God, Steve was glorious when he was like this. All fuck drunk and needy, desperate to cum.

It was some kind of sixth sense, or maybe just a change to how Steve’s right leg was leaning against him, that let Bucky know that Steve had let go to try and take hold of his cock. Bucky batted Steve’s hand away with a muffled growl and then pulled back, eliciting a disappointed whimper from Steve’s red, bitten lips.

“You come on my tongue, Stevie. I know you can,” Bucky commanded and then dove back in, doubling down on his lewd sucking and slurping, while Steve babbled above him.

“Oh, God! Bucky! Fuck! Gonna come. Gonna…”

Bucky smiled to himself as Steve’s legs trembled and his ass tensed as he spilled all over his own abs. Bucky slowed down his ministrations, swapping to gentle licks of his tongue and soft kisses, as the waves of euphoria slowed their progress through Steve’s body. When they finally subsided, Bucky pulled back, letting out a groan of his own as he took in how debauched Steve looked.

He dragged his henley off over the back of his head, taking the chance to wipe his spit covered face, then he shucked off his sweats, and without worry of the cooling, sticky mess smeared over Steve’s skin, he covered his husband's frame with his own and kissed him long and deep. Steve was still hard and their dicks brushed against each other as they kissed, Steve shuddering from the sensitivity. It wasn’t long before they were rocking against each other with more vigour, Steve wrapping his legs around Bucky’s waist, keeping him close.

“Buck…”, Steve murmured. “Please…”

Bucky pulled his lips from Steve’s and grinned down at him, brushing a lock of his blond hair from his face. “You need me, doll?”

“Always need you. Every day. Every minute if I could,” came the breathy response.

“Well,” replied Bucky, kissing down Steve’s neck. “I’d better not keep you waiting then.” He grabbed a pillow and pushed it under Steve’s hips before grabbing the bottle of lube from the top of the bedside table. His first finger slid in easily, and Bucky gazed upon Steve, fire in his eyes, as Steve fisted the sheets and moaned. Bucky added a second finger, stretching Steve out and trying not to aim for his prostate too often.

It wasn’t long before Steve half sat up, grabbing at Bucky’s arm and stilling his hand. “I’m ready, sweetheart. Please! Don’t wanna wait anymore”

Bucky chuckled and pulled his fingers free. “Okay, baby. I got you. I got you.” He pushed Steve back down, slicked up his own straining cock, and slotted himself into the V of Steve’s legs. He entwined his right hand with Steve’s left as he guided himself into Steve’s molten heat with his other hand. This was one of his favourite feelings. It was like coming home. Whether it was 1939, 2029, or somewhere in between, being with Steve like this was all he ever wanted or needed.

He began to roll his hips and gave himself over to the sensations surrounding him. He hovered over Steve, watching his husband’s facial expression from between hooded eyelids as he moved, slowly building the pleasure between them. Steve panted and murmured unintelligible things, his hand tightening on Bucky’s as he was driven higher and higher.

As Bucky felt himself get closer to his own peak, he changed the angle of his hips, so that he could now brush over Steve’s prostate with each thrust. Steve’s fucked out noises changed pitch as his orgasm rapidly approached, his thighs clenched around Bucky’s waist so tightly that, had Bucky not also been a supersoldier, he could easily have been crushed.

“God, love these noises of yours, Stevie,” Bucky muttered. “Love hearing how you sound taking my cock, and you take it so well, doll. Almost there. Almost there.” He didn’t know if Steve was actually listening to him, lost in his pleasure as he was, but it didn’t really matter because Bucky was there, tipping over the precipice and pouring himself into Steve. “Oh, God!”

Steve grasped his own cock with his free hand, giving himself a rough few jerks so he could follow Bucky off the edge.

A couple of minutes later, when they could both breathe properly again, Bucky propped himself up on his elbows and pressed butterfly kisses to Steve’s smiling, flushed face.

“That’s three times in two days. We should go on holiday and get snowed in more often, if this is what it leads to,” he said between the kisses.

“I have a feeling that this would happen on any holiday, snow or no snow,” Steve teased back.

“Well,” said Bucky, tilting his head to the side and trying not to laugh, “maybe we should test that theory?”

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck and pulled him back down for another kiss. “Maybe we should. But in the meantime, wanna make it four times in two days?”

Tag list: @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @doasyoudesireandlive, @galactusdevourerofworlds, @km-ffluv

#stucky #stucky fanfic #steve x bucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #buckybarnesbingo2023 #stucky bingo #steve rogers bingo

32 notes · View notes

metamorphosisff · 1 year

Text

|Chapter 4| Something Good

Picked up another shift. Please watch Papi.

I groan as I look at the time on my phone. In ten minutes I’m supposed to be leaving to go to this stupid meeting and now I would have a plus one. There was no way I could back out of either commitment so I texted back: No probs. Taking him with me. We’ll be back before you.

Being that she is at work, I don’t expect her to text me back. I take a quick glance at my outfit, high rise baby blue shorts, obnoxious cowboy belt that belonged to my father, a baby doll t-shirt and on my feet are a worn pair of navy Converse. My hair is pulled up into a ballerina bun of braids because it’s too hot for anything else. I managed to coat my eyelashes with mascara, add a pinch of blush to my cheeks and some gloss. It’s the best I can do and all I have time for since I’m now babysitting. Grabbing my purse, I lock up my apartment before going across the hall and letting myself in.

“PAPI,” I yell from the doorway.

He has a Lil Baby song blasting from the direction of his bedroom but he’s still able to hear me. His ears are trained to listen out for our voices. Within seconds I hear him jogging out of his bedroom.

“What’s up Auntie?” he asked. I’m glad to see he’s still dressed in a Marvel Avengers t-shirt and basketball shorts. Typical fifth grader attire.

“Go grab your backpack and your shoes. We’re going out and we need to leave like now if I’m going to be on time,” I replied, looking at the time again on my phone.

“Aight, I’m going,” he said, heading off to do what I said. He is used to being dragged all over the place and knows not to question it.

It takes us five minutes to reach the train because I make us speed walk to cut down the time. We barely catch the F but we do. I’m thankful the meeting is in Midtown because the train switches to express after a few stops. On the way to the church we stopped at McDonalds so that I can get Papi, a double cheeseburger and some fries for dinner. I’m now flat broke but it’ll only be for two days so it’s fine. Hustling him along, I spot Jazz outside of the church smoking a Newport which she ashes once she sees Papi is with me. Her long nails glitter in every direction.

“You have a son?” Jazz asks, with a raised brow while tucking the wavy jet black strands she normally wore in braids behind her gold jeweled ear.

“Nephew. Sorry to keep you waiting,” I said, which she waved off.

“I just got here myself and people still arriving take a breath,” Jazz says to me before turning to Papi. “Hello young man. I’m Jazz.”

“Hey, I’m Papi,” Papi says.

I watch as they share a fist bump and run my fingers through Papi’s dense curls. “This is a meeting for adults so I’m going to give you my headphones. I want you to eat and then do your homework,” I said.

He nods his head and together we all walk inside. We follow the other two people who enter with us to the basement and into a large room on the right. The chairs are all set up in a circle and there is a table for refreshments where people are loading up on sweets and cups of soda. Xavier spots us immediately.

“Hey ladies, glad y’all stopped by. Who’s this?” Xavier says, smiling down at Papi.

“Name is Papi, who is you?” Papi asks, stepping in front of me. Jazz has a good laugh at this little boy's brazen behavior. I place my hands lightly on his shoulders as a silent reminder for him to mind himself.

Xavier chuckles and says, “I’m Xavier lil man. Nice to meet you.”

“Mhm I’ll be the judge of that,” Papi says.

“Alright Papi that’s enough, this is my friend, drop the machismo act,” I said, lightly tugging on a curl.

“Mhm well friend, jury is out on you. Where can I sit?” Papi asked, scanning the room like I previously had.

“There’s actually a room next door with some more kids with Ms. Marsha, a deaconess here at the church, keeping watch,” Xavier said.

“Papi go and please spare Ms. Marsha that mouth,” I said, turning him around by his shoulders.

“Fine but I’m telling Ma’ you hiding a man. You don’t have friends,” Papi scoffs, before scurrying out of the room.

“Little brat,” I said with a shake of my head. He’s wrong about the man thing but not about the fact that I don’t have friends. Damn, did he need to blurt my business like that though?

“Brother?” Xavier asks with a chuckle.

“Nah, nephew. He’s ten going on forty,” I said with a shake of my head, refusing to let a kid embarrass me. My eyes scan the room again.“There’s a lot of people here, you don't need new recruits.”

“Eh it’s a rotating cast. I see the look in your eyes, give it a chance,” Xavier urges.

“Right, give it a chance,” Jazz says, mouth filled with a powder donut. “I’m going to go take a seat. You are not allowed to sit by me.”

I stare at Jazz sashay away with an open mouth while Xavier chuckles beside me. “I’ve been hustled.”

“The old school way too but it’s okay. You can sit by me,” Xavier says.

“Sure, just give her what she wants,” I say with a roll of my eyes. He doesn’t follow me as I fill a plate up with pastries that will most likely also double as dinner. I choose water over soda to help balance out all of the sweets.

By the time I’ve finished, almost everyone has taken a seat. Jazz, true to her word, makes sure there are people flanking both of her sides. I shoot her an evil eye as I sit in the folding chair Xavier has saved for me. All that earns me is an air kiss blown in my direction.

“Alright, I think it’s safe to begin now,” Xavier starts, clapping his hands twice to gain everyone’s attention. “Welcome to anyone who’s new,” a glance in my direction causes me to roll my eyes again which he smirks at before continuing, “We don’t exchange names here unless you want to. Please refrain from dropping any other name but your own. Other than that, who wants to kick off ‘That Bullshit’.”

The name of the group is accurate as I listen to at least ten people describe what “that bullshit” was in their life. The stories ranged from petty offenses attached to neighbors and heart breaking ones that dealt with abusive exes. Though through it all, this group recanted things through the lens of humor. All of the situations were shitty in their own right but no one had a ‘woo is me’ attitude about it. They owned what they were going through and some even owned their parts in the situations. It gave me a lot to think about as Xavier finally called the meeting to a close. Jazz so wonderfully offered to get Papi from the room next door in order for us to talk.

“So what did you think?” Xavier asks, shoving his hands into the pockets of his shorts as we step out into the night.

The air is thick, slightly cooler than before but still warm enough to break into a sweat if one tries hard enough. I let my eyes meet his as I shrug my shoulders. “I’m not sure, I am still processing everything that I heard. Why did you want me to come?”

“Honestly?” he said, to which I nodded my head. “You look like you keep a lot inside. Like the quips you dole out are masking what you can’t yet find words for. I thought coming here might show you that there's a way to get some of that out of your system free of the expectation to say the right thing.”

His explanation hits me right in the chest as it is exactly what I had admired about the group. Everyone spoke from the heart without shame or fear or anything really. It looked freeing. I had been in my cage too long to join them but I did take note.

“I do,” I breathed out, crossing my arms over my chest. “The way I’ve come up, it’s easier to eat the punches than to keep fighting against them. I swallow my anger until someone or something pushes it out and then…

“Then you end up with a snazzy orange vest on the side of the road with me,” he jokes.

“Precisely,” I smirk, not able to help it. I’m finding that it is easy to talk to him. “This is a first and last type of thing. I don’t plan on going through this again.”

“Well maybe one of these Thursdays you’ll speak and get a chance to blow some steam to keep that from happening,” he says.

“This was a one time deal Xavier. I plan to start a new job soon once my orange vest stint is over and I doubt I’ll have time to come,” I reply.

“All the more reason for you to text me back. I’ve been told I’m a good listener,” he says, wearing a small smile as he takes a step closer to me.

Pushiness is in his nature as much as stubbornness is in mine. He is hell bent on being my friend and he might be wearing me down because I say, “I’ll think about it.”

Before he can say more, he’s being stiff armed back a few steps by a ten year old.

“You a little close friend,” Papi says, sliding between us.

“If you ever need a babysitter for this one, send him on the 2,” Jazz says to me with a cackle before turning to Papi. “C’mon let me show you how to not be in grown folks' business over yonder.”

Papi shoots Xavier one parting glare before allowing Jazz to lead him over to where the fence is. He positions his body so that he can keep his eyes directly on us.

“He is very protective of you. That’s a good kid right there,” Xavier chuckled.

“I’m protective of him too. He’s the only good thing I have, him and his mom,” I said.

Retaking the steps Papi pushed him out of, Xavier locks eyes with me and quietly says, “I’d like to be a good thing too over time.”

I don’t know if it’s his proximity or the way those big eyes under thick lashes blink at me but I believe him. There is a kindredness to his spirit that intertwines with mine, refusing to be ignored. “In the words of Papi, the jury is still out on that.”

He cracks a grin. “I look forward to hearing the verdict. I’m a patient man.”

“A corny one too,” I smirk.

“You like it.”

“ALRIGHT LOVERBOY I HAVE A BEDTIME, WRAP IT UP,” Papi yells through cupped hands, causing everyone who’s lingering around to laugh.

“On that note, good night. Let me know that y’all got home safe,” Xavier says with a smile.

“Will do, good night.”

We hold each other’s gaze for a few seconds more before I make my way down the stairs. When I get close, I pop Papi lightly on his shoulder, “Must you show out?”

“Must you? Since when do you smile?” Papi says, causing Jazz to holler and give him a high five.

“Papi,” I say through gritted teeth and he jogs ahead before I can reach out to pop him again.

“That lil boy read you,” Jazz chuckled, linking her arm through mine as we walked towards the train station. “You two looked mighty cozy.”

“We were just talking Jazz since you practically left me for dead,” I said.

“I didn’t leave you for dead but I did encourage you to fly little Birdie. That’s what I’ma call you Birdie,” Jazz says.

I hate the nickname but telling her won’t make a difference. Instead I ask, “You think I can trust him?”

“There’s only one true way to find out but I think he’s worth the risk. Opening yourself to people, to this world ain’t easy but most of the time it’s worth it. The rest? Is that bullshit like they said,” Jazz said.

We spend the rest of the walk in silence and telling Papi to look where he’s going as he walks. I mull over her words and save Xavier’s words to examine for later. When we part ways, Jazz pulls me into a hug and lets me know she’s going to work. Though I don’t have the right to, I ask her to tell me when she gets home, and she promises.On the train Papi lets me know that he thinks Jazz is cool and how he learned about women like her in school. He makes me proud using the correct terminology and in moments like this I find myself wanting to protect him even more. There’s a real chance for him to make it out of our neighborhood and be somebody. I make another promise to a God I’m not on the best of terms with to look out for him. By the time we get home, Papi is practically sleepwalking. I let him back into his apartment and helped him get ready for bed before going into mine. It’s then that I see Xavier has texted me as I step out of my shoes.

Are you home?

It was sent a half hour ago so I’m late in my response.

Yeah just got in and put Papi down. Tired kids are heavy.

I head down the hall, texting Marissa letting her know that we’re both back in as I’m entering the bathroom. I peel out of my clothes and dump them into the hamper. The shower I take is quick because I’m exhausted and have to wake up again in five hours for my shift at the warehouse. As I’m sliding into bed, I read over the last texts Xavier sent.

Tell me about it. My little sister feels like a grown man sometimes.

I know it’s late so sleep well.

He sends the last text with the face in cloud emoji and in the privacy of my own home I allow myself to grin at his never ending corniness. Before I can think too much about it I send back: You too.

Taglist:

@darqchilddaydreamz @ljstraightnochaser @gigafaex @trippyscotch @themakingsofdion @xo-goldengirl @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @miyuhpapayuh @liv444me @cherrellek @althegreat33 @4ftwonder @ittsstephanieee @becauseimswagman1 @acrox-the-universe92 @motheroffae @po3ticb3auty @shahanaazsoumah @leahnicole1219 @kenbechillin @razrsharpwhiteteeth @itssokibri @blackerthings @kinginwithbreezy-blog @queengodiva619 @rockerchick1138

Taglist Sign Up

#metamorphasisff #black romance #black fiction #slow burn romance #zendaya x mjb

56 notes · View notes