Natasha smiles, tears already forming in her eyes…
Y/N: what’s wrong?
Natasha holds up a positive pregnancy test…
Natasha: we did it, moya luybov
Natasha hugs Y/N tight, crying…
Wanda: what is it?
Natasha just holds out the test…
Wanda: ohmygosh!!! (laughs)
Wanda hugs the two tightly, still balancing the infant Billy and Tommy in her arms…
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I need to be destroyed by Steve and Bucky at the same time. I need Steve to degrade me and smack my ass as he fucks me from behind while I choke on buckys cock, pulling whines and whimpers from him. I need them both in me at once fucking me sensless. Steve growling about how much of a slut I am for taking two super soldiers. Bucky losing his mind at the feel of his wet dick against Steve’s while my pussy soaks them more.
Anyways. It’s horny hour could you tell?
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INFINITELY YOU
part one // back at the beginning
SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.
WARNINGS - 18+, story will contain mentions of blood, broken bones, weapons, suggestive language, and more. all versions of peter are between the ages of 19-23 in this story. I will try to update warnings accordingly for each chapter, but please read at your own discretion
WORD COUNT - 5.4k
// masterlist // send me your thoughts // playlist // no way home fan fiction //
The world seemed to slip out from under you, fracturing beneath your feet and leaving you to sink into a deep, dark hole.
It was quiet—so unbearably quiet—and the tension between you and your estranged friends had become so thick that you feared it would soon take form and seep into your lungs. Maybe that would be for the best, you thought, wondering if suffocating on your collective grief would somehow be easier than whatever came next.
“Aunt May…” You sputtered, unable to force the words out. Shaking your head, you asked, “Are you sure?”
God, what a stupid question. You almost wanted to slap yourself for asking something so mindless.
Ned’s lips pressed into a thin line, trying to swallow his own sorrow. “I wish we weren’t,” he said with a small, wistful chuckle, still too shocked to fully acknowledge the gravity of it all. “But… yeah, we’re sure. She’s… She’s gone.”
Your heart sank, unable to think of the right string of words to form a reply.
With your mind reeling, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking that this was some sort of cruel joke–the kind where the punchline would never quite hit. But all it took was one look at the red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks of Ned and Mj to know that they were telling the truth.
She was dead—Aunt May was dead.
And, somehow, it seemed as though that wasn’t even the worst part of the mess your friends had gotten themselves in.
“I know that it’s a lot to take in all at once,” Ned started back up, perhaps noticing the way the color seemed to drain from your face. “If you need me to go back over it or explain anything then I can-”
You stopped listening to him, staring blankly at the doormat beneath their feet. They hadn’t even bothered to come inside your apartment, too panicked to waste any time before delving into the details about Doctor Strange and the multiverse and other Spider-Man’s.
But honestly, you didn’t care about any of that.
You didn’t care about string theory or whatever multiversal villains had apparently slipped into your world—because you couldn’t stop thinking about what Ned had said about how May died. It hurt to think about it, the shrapnel and debris that had torn her flesh, the glider that had punctured her side and left her bleeding out in Peter’s arms…
Aunt May had died a horrific and brutal death, and you weren’t sure that there would ever be any way for you to come to terms with that.
“Peter,” you finally spoke, fire raging in your eyes as you looked at Ned. “Where is Peter?”
He spared Mj a sidelong glance, as if silently asking for her permission to answer. Frustration began to prick your skin, crawling up your spine as your stare turned harsh, offended that he didn’t just tell you outright. You knew that things between the four of you hadn’t ended well, but this…
Mj crossed her arms, looking almost as frustrated as you were with Ned’s choice to look to her for permission, and decided to answer in his place.
“Downstairs,” she told you, her tone purposefully clipped as a way to show that the wounds sustained in the downfall of your friendship had not yet healed–and you didn’t care, because you knew that yours hadn’t either.
“Is he…” you trailed off, not sure how to say it. If May’s death had been so brutal, then God knows what kind of injuries Peter might’ve sustained in the fight?
But you didn’t have to speak, because whether the two of you liked it or not, you had been friends—and she always knew what you were thinking. “He’s safe,” she told you, quelling your nerves just a little. A reluctant sigh slipped her lips, shaking her head as she added, “But he’s not okay.”
You knew what she meant—physically Peter had survived the fight with this Goblin man that they had told you about, but mentally…
You understood why she was hesitant to tell you about it, too. Of the three of you, there was only one that had ever been able to delve down into the depths of Peter’s trauma and help him claw his way back out of the gnawing pit that threatened to consume him—and it wasn’t either of them.
And, just as Mj knew you, you knew her.
She didn’t want you around Peter, not anymore—and so if she was willingly telling you that he wasn’t okay, then it meant that she knew how much he truly needed you right now.
“You guys should’ve told me sooner,” you grit your teeth, desperately trying to bite back against the resentment rising in your throat. “You should’ve told me as soon as all of this started, instead of waiting until everything went to shit.”
It wasn’t your intention to sound bitter, but that didn’t stop you from coming across that way. Ned recoiled from your tone like a blow, but you didn’t have it in you to feel guilty right now.
They had been dealing with all of this multiversal crisis bullshit for nearly a week now—and yet none of them had thought to say a single word to you until now. And while you knew that your presence likely wouldn’t have changed the course of events that had unfolded, it still hurt.
And it still made you angry.
“What do you need me to do?” You asked after realizing that neither of them intended to respond to your sharp statement.
“Well,” Ned started, nervously rubbing his sweaty palms against his khakis, “it’s gonna take us some time to figure out where the villains are hiding, and even longer to work out what to do with them. And, since these other Peter’s have dealt with these guys before, we could really use their help…”
He trailed off, once again looking to Mj, this time to silently urge her to finish his sentence.
She rolled her eyes. “We need you to let them stay here.”
Your brows furrowed, glancing between the two of them as if once again waiting for some sort of punchline to hit. It didn’t.
“It might take us a bit–a few weeks, maybe—to find all of them and stop them. And now that Happy’s complex was literally blown to pieces, we don’t have anywhere for the two of them to stay while they help out.” Mj tried to explain. She looked defeated when she said, “We didn’t know who else we could go to that would actually understand.”
Understand.
If you weren’t still reeling from everything they had just told you, then you probably would have laughed at the word. You would hardly say that you understood what was going on—but you knew what she was getting.
Mj’s dad would hardly allow two random men to stay in his house with them, and Ned’s Lola probably wasn’t too keen on the idea either. With Happy’s place destroyed, they had nowhere left to turn.
You weren’t sure how to feel now that you knew they had only come to you because you were their last choice.
At the risk of aggravating Mj, you said, “I wanna talk to Peter.”
“I don’t know if now’s a good time,” Mj swiftly shot back. “I told you that’s he’s not okay—”
“But he’s here,” you stated, nodding your head towards the stairs somewhere behind them that led back down to the lobby. “And you’re insane if you think I’m gonna agree to let two random ass men stay in my house without at least knowing what his plan is.”
Mj bristled at the harshness of your tone; and so did you.
You weren’t used to this.
Mj had been your friend for far longer than she had been whatever she was to you now, and neither of you were used to this—to your once special connection being reduced to nothing more than strained conversations and fractured feelings towards one another.
“Fine,” Mj surrendered, her hands lifting slightly. “Do whatever you want.”
It wasn’t until then that you realized that you had been waiting for her permission, even though you didn’t believe you truly needed it. Peter was your friend—and he had been your friend long before he even knew Mj. If you wanted to talk to him, then you had every right to.
Yet you still hadn’t been able to will yourself to push between the two of them until she had spoken, side-stepping to let you pass. When you started descending the stairs to the lobby, you were shocked that neither she nor Ned followed, offering you a sense of privacy with Peter that you hadn’t expected—as if she still held some shred of trust in you.
You didn’t want to think about it though, unsure of how you felt about that, too.
Halfway down the dank stairway of your complex, you felt a shiver dance along your spine. It prickled your skin and set your nerves on edge, but it didn’t catch you off guard. You always felt this way when Peter was around—as if your body could always sense when he was around, even when you hadn’t yet seen him.
The last step creaked when you placed your weight onto it, and from across the poorly maintained lobby, Peter’s neck snapped in your direction at the sound.
It felt like ice skittered across your bones at the sight of him, your heart lurching against your ribcage.
You had gotten used to seeing Peter battered and bruised years ago. Even before he became Spider-Man, he often found himself the victim of bullies and assholes, rarely going more than a few weeks without a busted lip or a new bruise. But this…
This was different, somehow.
It wasn’t just the blood-stained suit that set your heart racing, nor was it the lacerated skin or his sweat-matted hair. No, those things were normal—in the same way that being bitten by a radioactive spider was normal.
It was even normal to see him standing before you, his chin high and shoulders back, presenting a perfect image of strength even after experiencing something as traumatic as losing May.
Peter’s relationship with trauma had been intimate enough these past few years that you weren’t shocked to see him like this, standing tall rather than balling up and crying on the floor. You figured that was what most others would do if they were in his situation.
But Peter wasn’t like other people.
Peter was a hero—and if you had learned anything about heroes in your lifetime, it was that they were incredible liars.
His eyes couldn't lie, though.
Bloodshot and ringed with exhaustion, his eyes were what had made you feel so sick, your stomach twisting itself into knots.
They lacked the life and hope of the boy you had loved so dearly, replaced with something like rage—a pure, unbridled and unrelenting type of rage. Looking at him now you couldn’t ignore the burning talon that seemed to rake against your mind, filling your brain with thoughts you didn’t want to think right now—telling you that looking at Peter now, with the light draining from his eyes, was the same as looking in a mirror.
“Peter,” a metallic tang danced on your tongue as you dug your teeth into your cheek, biting back against the tears threatening to well-up in your eyes.
Letting your instincts guide you, you rushed across the lobby to where he stood by the front door, reaching for his hand without a second thought.
His suit had been torn along his palm, and as you felt the warmth radiating from his calloused skin, you tried to take some comfort in the fact that at least he had survived—even if you still weren’t ready to accept that May hadn’t.
“Don’t,” He yanked his hand back from you, his voice hoarse. “Don’t say you’re sorry.”
You froze for half a heartbeat, your hand hanging awkwardly in-between the two of you. “I wasn’t going to.”
You weren’t sure if you were telling the truth, but it didn’t seem to matter either way.
Either way, you tried to understand his reaction, even as you winced from the sting of rejection. What good would an apology really do for a boy who had already lost everything?
It wouldn’t bring the light back to his eyes.
It wouldn’t bring May back to life.
“Ned told me everything,” you told him, unwilling or unable to say Mj’s name right now. You clenched and unclenched your fists, painfully aware of the absence of his warmth. “You know I’ll do anything I can to help, so just tell me what needs to be done and I’ll do it.”
Peter scoffed, his jaw tensing. “We both know that what I want doesn’t matter,” he said bluntly. Motioning to your surroundings, he continued, “If what I wanted mattered, then we wouldn’t even be here. We wouldn’t be asking for your help—wouldn’t be dragging another person into this and asking them to risk their life!”
You did your best not to react, knowing that he hadn’t meant it quite as bad as it sounded. It already hurt knowing that you had been Mj and Ned’s last choice for help, but knowing that Peter didn’t want you to be a choice at all hurt far worse—even if it was to keep you safe.
“Well, you’re here now,” you told him, keeping your voice steady. “So you might as well tell me what your plan is—or at least tell me how long I’ll need to play bunkmates with strangers.”
You were lying when you had told Mj and Ned that you needed to talk to Peter before agreeing to let the alternate Spider-Men stay in your apartment—you didn’t care about housing with strangers, aware that there was nothing they could do to you that you haven't endured before.
Selfishly, you had just wanted a reason to come down and talk to him. To see him. To know that he was alive. You didn’t care about anything else.
Sometimes you worried that you didn’t even care about your own life, only Peter’s.
But Peter cared about your life—far more than you would ever want him to.
“My plan doesn’t matter,” he said, his tone clipped, “cause I don’t want you getting involved. And I definitely don’t want you to let those guys stay here, alright? We don’t know them.”
You steeled yourself, resisting the urge to argue with him and instead asking a simple question. “Do you have anywhere else for them to go?”
He didn’t respond, huffing out a breath, already frustrated with the defiance he knew you were about to display.
“You might not want my help, but if Ned’s right–” you told him, gesturing backwards towards the staircase, “–which he usually is—then you’re gonna need these guys.”
“But that doesn’t mean we need you,” Peter protested gruffly.
Your chest tightened, but you kept shoving back against the hurt. Later, you would deal with that later.
“It doesn’t matter if you need me,” you retorted with a defiant tilt of your chin, unwavering as his rageful gaze seemed to pierce through your skull, “because you’re stuck with me either way.”
You hadn’t expected the statement to affect him, but it did, his voice softening slightly. “I always have been.”
“Exactly. So you might as well make this easy on the both of us and not fight me on it,” you declared, trying to conjure up the most convincing smile you could offer. “Let me help, Peter.”
A sigh slipped his lips, heavy with reluctant resignation as he realized he wasn’t winning this battle. “We’ve already lost so many people… I’ve lost so many people. And there’s already enough blood on my hands,” he said, lifting his hands to display the torn, blood-stained fabric, driving his point home. “It doesn’t matter what I say—so let them stay here or don’t, I don’t care. But just know that whatever happens to you, it’s not on me. Because I told you to stay out of it, alright?”
He took a step closer, and you didn’t dare move a single muscle as his lips hovered just inches from your own. “Do whatever you want,” his voice was barely a whisper, laced with a venomous edge that nearly made you tremble, “but don’t expect me to come running to save you when it all goes to shit.”
His words hung in the air like a curse, lingering in the lobby for far longer than he did. As soon as the promise had left his lips, he was already turning on his heel and shoving the door open, abandoning you in the dim space.
You knew better than to think he meant it.
But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.
You stuck your hands beneath the running faucet, scrubbing the blood from a jagged cut on your palm. It wasn’t all that deep, shallow enough that it probably wouldn't even leave a scar once healed. When you were done rinsing it, you cupped your hands and gathered the water in them, splashing your reddened cheeks.
Crying would have been a normal part of grieving for May, and when you forced yourself to look back at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, you couldn’t help but wish that you could’ve been a little more normal.
But tears hadn’t been the cause of your flushed appearance—no, because you had never been very good at expressing the more delicate emotions, like sadness.
You were good at expressing anger, though.
You were very good at expressing anger.
After Peter had stormed out of the lobby and abandoned you to choke on his cruel promise, it had taken you several minutes to work up the nerve to go back upstairs and face Mj and Ned. By some stroke of luck you had managed to keep a tight leash on your often volatile attitude, telling them your decision to let the other Peter’s stay with you.
And then you lost control as soon as they left, loosening the reins on your anger and taking the uncomfortable feelings out on a nearby potted plant, shouting curses as you tossed it at the wall.
By the time you thought to clean it up, after finishing another string of irate profanities, your hands had been shaking so bad that you cut yourself on one of the dirt-covered shards. And maybe, once you felt the jagged ceramic dig into your palm, you should’ve hissed or cursed more or stopped cleaning to patch yourself up.
But you didn’t. You stayed quiet, continuing to pluck the shattered fragments off the floor until you had gotten them all, dumping them into the trash before grabbing the broom and dustpan and cleaning the dirt and scattered leaves, too.
There were more important things to deal with than cleaning a dirty wound.
Like making sure none of your friends could see that you weren’t nearly as composed as you tried to seem.
The familiar rhythmic rapping of Mj’s knuckles against the front door made you forgo the bandage you were going to fix to your palm, tossing the rag you’d used to dry your face into the sink and heading straight to the living room.
Carefully shoving your injured hand into your pocket, you opened the door and tried not to look surprised when Peter wasn’t standing in-between Mj and Ned. Of course he hadn’t come with them—why would he? He had already made it clear how he felt about all of this.
It did become significantly harder to mask your shock however when a tall, messy haired boy stepped into view from behind them, clad in a crimson and cobalt webbed suit.
“Get inside,” you hissed a bit harsher than intended, stepping aside and waving the three of them into your apartment.
The last thing you needed was your neighbors seeing an unmasked, alternate version of Spider-Man standing in front of your door. It had already been risky enough that Peter had come here in his suit, standing in the lobby and sticking out like a sore thumb.
Once they were inside, you shut the door and turned to Ned. “I thought you said there were two of them,” you noted, avoiding looking at the lanky Spider-Man who seemed just as desperate to avoid you, busying himself with walking around the room and studying the art on the walls.
Ned shrugged. “He didn’t wanna come.”
“Not that he didn’t want to come,” Mj pointedly corrected him, frowning at his bluntness. “He just wanted to keep patrolling. The Goblin, the one who…” she cut herself off, unable to force the words off her tongue. Scrapping the sentence altogether, she started again, “The Goblin’s from his world, so he seemed to think that he had the best chance of hunting him down. But we gave him the address.”
You didn’t bother giving her an actual response, a subtle nod the only sign you had heard her at all. She didn’t seem to care much, just as unsure of what to say to you as you were to her.
“So,” Ned clicked his tongue, trying to cut through the growing tension. “This is Peter 3!” He announced, gesturing to the other Peter, who was picking up a frame that had been face down on an end table. “That’s what we’re calling him, at least. Y’know, to tell them apart. The other one is Peter 2.”
You gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Creative.”
Done dawdling over Ned and Mj, you forced yourself to look at the un-masked hero from another world. He was placing the frame back onto the table—not face down, as he had found it, but up-right. You frowned at the photograph it displayed, a picture of you, Ned, Mj, and Peter from sometime last year.
“You’re awfully nosy,” you told him, your voice like ice.
His muscles tensed, hesitating as he faced your gaze. “Sorry,”
His voice was slightly deeper than Peter’s, his hair a shade or two darker, his features a bit less soft, but still noticeably young, putting him in his early twenties at most. Truthfully, if it weren’t for the suit he was wearing, you would’ve never guessed that he was supposed to be the Peter Parker of another world.
You had expected him to be more… Peter-like, in appearance, and yet as far as you could tell the resemblances were very slight, if they even existed at all.
The mannerisms were there, though. The subtleties of Peter Parker, the things that most people never noticed and yet were ingrained in your mind. He licked his lips, a nervous tic that left you always carrying chapstick in your pocket. His hands hung at his sides and you saw the way his thumb tapped against each of his fingers, starting with his index and ending with his pinky, only to start over again.
Watching him, taking note of every familiar twitch and tic and habit, made something in your chest tighten.
And, when you told him your name, it was as if your icy tone had melted altogether. “It’s nice to meet you.”
For a moment you thought he wouldn’t respond, his throat bobbing as he swallowed roughly, eyes darting around the room. But then, suddenly, he gave you a weak smile. “You too.” A trace of amusement laced his response, too subtle for you to detect.
“We’ve gotta go,” Ned suddenly spoke, jutting a thumb towards the door. “Peter’s waiting outside so he can make sure we get home safe, but-” he stopped, brows furrowing as considered whether he should finish. “But text us later, okay? Just to let us know that you’re okay.”
Your heart stuttered at the mention of Peter’s name, at knowing that he actually had come—even if it hadn’t been for you—but you didn’t mention it.
Instead, you focused on Ned, giving your sweet friend the kindest smile you could muster—which, admittedly, didn’t feel like much. Despite everything that had happened with your friends in the past few months, your fight had never been with Ned. He was just caught in the middle, unfairly forced to pick sides.
And you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at him for picking Peter. Not when you knew that you would’ve done the same.
“I will,” you promised.
Ned gave you an equally somber smile before opening the door to leave. Even once Ned was in the hall, already descending the staircase, Mj lingered in the entryway—not for long, a heartbeat, maybe—turning back towards you just long enough to mutter, “Keep your guard up.”
You didn’t have a chance to say anything back to her before she let the door slam shut, following quickly after Ned and leaving you alone with… this guy.
The other Peter had abandoned his spot by the end table, seemingly done with investigating your apartment and left to do nothing but stand awkwardly a few feet away from you, clearly unsure of what to do or say now that it was just the two of you.
“So,” you breathed out, popping your lips. “Peter 3, yeah? Good name. You go by that back home, too?”
He laughed, a suit-clad hand nervously rising to the back of his neck. “Uh–yeah, no, definitely not. Just plain ole’ Peter Parker over there.”
The nervous energy radiating from the boy almost seemed contagious as you started to pick at your nails. “Do you have a nickname?”
He blinked, looking as if he hadn’t heard a word you said. “Sorry, what?”
“A nickname,” you repeated, only for your brows to then furrow. “You have those where you’re from, don’t you? Nicknames? Like, you know, something you go by other than your actual name?”
“Oh! Yes—sorry, yes we have nicknames in my world,” he exclaimed, his pale skin starting to flush.
“I just thought that this whole numerical system thing that Ned’s going with to keep track of who’s who seems a little dehumanizing, yeah?”
“For sure,” he agreed, sucking on his lip as he nodded along with you.
You gave him a second, waiting and waiting for an answer to your apparently long-forgotten question, before asking, “So… Do you have one?”
The slight blush that had tinged his skin instantly darkened, suddenly the same shade of crimson as his suit. His grip on the back of his neck tightened, too, his fingertips prodding into his own skin.
“Sorry-” he apologized for the millionth time, more nervous laughter spilling out alongside it, “I do! I mean, sort of, I think. I don’t know if it’s really a nickname, but back in my world you really just called me by my last name most of the time anyway, so–I don’t know—maybe that would work?”
The sheer quantity of word vomit spewing from his mouth was impressive and likely hard-to-follow for most, but you consider yourself a bit of an expert in the anxious ramblings of Peter Parker.
“In your world?” You echoed, instantly catching the subtle mention. “We know each other?”
Maybe it shouldn’t have been shocking to learn that there were other versions of you throughout the multiverse as well, and yet it was. You figured that it was plausible, of course, considering that two variations of Peter had just been thrown into your world, but for some reason it just didn’t feel right.
You reasoned that anyone would feel that way, though.
“Yeah,” the boy, Parker, answered, a bit clipped. “We do.”
“Interesting.” Your brows lifted, “Are we friends?”
Parker scrunched his nose, his head tilting slightly.
“Yeah,” his voice was an octave higher than before, and if you knew him better, then you likely would’ve called him on the obvious tell. But you didn’t know him, and so you didn’t say anything when he decided to double-down on the lie, “Yeah, we’re friends.”
“Well I guess that means that this is just as weird for you as it is for me, then.” You laughed, trying to add some humor to the situation.
Parker gave a tightlipped smile. “Definitely weird.”
The seconds felt like they stretched into minutes after that, silently racking your brain for something to say, hoping that he might say something—but, eventually, you settled on offering an escape from the situation instead.
“You’re probably exhausted from the whole multiversal travel thing, so if you want, I can just show you the guest room and give you some privacy or something,” you told him, vaguely gesturing towards the hallway.
Parker seemed to relax a bit at the prospect of being alone, loosing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Uhm–yeah, that’d be great, actually.”
He followed you down the short hall, his hand finally falling from his neck and his skin returning to its normal complexion as his nerves began to wane.
“This is it,” you told him, the hinges crying out as you shoved the door open. “It’s not much, but it’s somewhere to sleep, at least.”
Wasn’t much felt like an understatement, though the room was typical for a New York apartment.
A tad bigger than your average shoebox, there was just enough space to fit a full-sized bed, a small armoire, and a single nightstand adorned with an old desk lamp and a little pink teddy bear—a gift from Peter, years ago.
Parker walked into the room, looking around and brushing his fingertips against the emerald quilt. It was a bit old and somewhat thin, but it was better than nothing you supposed, and Parker certainly didn’t seem like he was going to complain about it.
“It’s great,” he assured you, and even though he did sound genuine, you couldn’t help but snort. He looked over at where you still stood in the doorway, giving you a timid smile as he said, “Way better than sleeping on the streets.”
You returned the gesture, lazily lifting a shoulder. “We’ll see if you still feel that way in the morning. That mattress is about a hundred years old, so it’s probably the equivalent of sleeping on really lumpy cement.”
Parker hummed his amusement, carefully perching on the edge of the bed, his smile seeming to deepen when he caught sight of the little bear on the nightstand.
“I guess I’ll let you get some sleep,” you told him, reaching for the door handle, “if you need anything—extra blankets, or something—just let me know; my room’s right across the hall.”
He muttered his thanks, but as you went to pull the door closed, you heard your name fall from his lips. It was strange sounding, strangled and foreign, like he didn’t quite know how to say it. When you turned back to face him, a subtle wince seemed to etch across his face.
“Can I… Can I ask you something?” Parker stammered out the question, his voice faltering like a candle flame in the wind.
You nodded once, fingers still wrapped around the knob, savoring the coolness of the brass against the now-clotted wound on your palm.
He took a breath, his gaze momentarily flickering back to the teddy bear on the nightstand. His thoughts felt heavy on his tongue as he tried to force them out of his mouth, “Are you happy?”
You blinked at him, unsure of what to make of the hope that seemed to cling to each syllable and half-wondering if you’d heard him right.
“I-” you tried to start, only to realize that you had no clue what to say.
There was a fleeting moment where you realized that you could tell him the truth. You could tell him that happiness felt like a distant shore far from your reach, forever obscured by the fiery tempest of a brutal and ancient rage—a rage that, sometimes, didn’t even feel like your own.
But then he looked at you with those big, expectant eyes; eyes that should have been foreign to you, and yet felt so familiar—and you realized that he wouldn’t like that answer.
Sucking in a breath, you evaded his question as best you could. “Ask me again when all of this is over,” you told him, your lips curving into a soft, playful arc, “and maybe I’ll tell you the truth.”
This time when you went to close the door, he didn’t stop you.
a/n - i wish that i could properly express just how amazing (and terrifying) it has been to rewrite this story. first created at quite possibly the lowest point of my life, infinitely you has provided me with a necessary escape at a time when i desperately needed it. now that i'm in a better position, i found it necessary to give it the plot, writing style, and dedication that it deserved. i'm aware some people might not be interested in a rewrite and that's ok, but for those that are i just wanna say: thank you, thank you, thank you for giving infinitely you (and me) another shot. you're incredible.
if anyone would like to be added to the tag list, just let me know! as of right now, chapters will be posted every other monday, though i may switch that to weekly soon!
part two, titled "crullers & constants", to be released april 1st
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[Wanda walked up to her house door]'
Wanda : Ugh! I swear today is the worst day ever!
Unlocked door
M!Reader : Hey Wanda! I made your favourite! Cholent!
Wanda : .....
Wanda : HOW ARE WE NOT MARRIED YET!
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Horror Movie Queen
Requested: yes
Summary: a teen reader whos done a bunch of horror movies is filming a scene where she has to scream, freaks everyone out in the cast. Italics is the filmed scene.
Tags: really just fluff except one mention of torture and hitting
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A/N: Its short but its something new. i think im getting back to writing again so thats exciting!!
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Y/n sat staring at the star studded cast in front of her at the reading table. Scarlett Johansson, Robert Downey Jr., Tom Holland, Elizabeth Olsen. It was wild all the people she had spent her whole life looking up to, and here she was, about to film a whole Marvel movie with them.
This was new territory for her too. A whole new genre of movie, different from the horror movies she was known for. The rest of the cast didn’t watch her movies so they didn’t know how she worked.
“Y/n? You okay?” Chris Evans asked waving his hand around in front of her face. “You zoned out there.” He added softly to the teen who flushed slightly and nodded looking down at her hands. “Have you done enough reading now? Are you ready to get into costume and makeup?”
Y/n paused for a moment picking at her fingers before she looked up and nodded. “Yeah. Ill go get ready. I’ll see you guys tomorrow?” She took a quick glance around at everyone who shot her small nods before she disappeared. When she finally came to set, fully ready for her scene, her manager waved her over.
“Okay… lets get this over with guys.” She said, her manager chuckling at the bored look on the teenagers face that was currently covered in bruises and blood, her clothes hanging off of the girls frail body, a gash across her face where a scar usually sat on her characters face.
She was filming her background scene, how her character, Maddison, got where she was, fighting with the Avengers. The torture and pain the character had gone through obvious with the way she was dressed. “Alright you, are you ready to scream?” Thomas asked the girl with a grimace, knowing what he had to pretend to do to the girl. She nodded and stepped on to the set, a cold damp cell that had red splatter all over one wall, showing what she was supposed to have gone through. Thomas stepped forward, the director getting ready for filming, unknown to the teen, the rest of her cast mates stepped in to the studio, hiding in the shadows.
Scarlett elbowed a nervous looking Lizzie who motioned to the makeup on the girls face, the blonde shook her head slightly motioning to be quiet with a finger to her lips. Evans eyes widened as he studied the gash on the girls face. They all knew it was makeup, but as they had grown protective of the young girl, it scared them all. The all focused in on the girl when the director called action.
--Filming scene--
Maddison, a 13 year old girl who had been kidnapped by Baron Strucker at the age of 5, sat huddled against the bloody wall, her whole body shaking as she slowly lifted her head, a giant gash across her face, towards the man standing in front of her. The man merely raised his hand that held a ragged, rusty dagger and slashed down at the girl, her face getting slashed.
The girl let out a blood curdling scream, a scream so loud it even made Strucker take a step back out of shock. The man then turned on his heel and slammed the cell door closed whispering to the girl. “No one will ever want someone as disgusting as you.”
--Scene over--
The director called cut and y/n stood up and with a lack of emotion on her face and grabbed her water bottle. She had barely gotten a sip of it when she was collided with, a pair of arms wrapping around her, gripping her tightly. The teen squeaked as she tried to move the blonde hair to see the horrified look of all her adult castmates standing around her. She patted the back of what she assumed to be Scarlett with a look of confusion running across her face.
“What was that?” Mark asked as he nervously twisted his hands. “How did you bring that up? That was so real…”
“What do you mean?” Y/n asked as Scarlett finally pulled back. “I’m confused?”
“It was very convincing sounding darling.” The actress said, one hand not leaving the teens arm. “Are you okay?”
“Oh. I’m fine?” She responded. “I did- have you guys never seen any of my movies?”
RDJ looked at the girl sheepishly. “Your movies are intense kid… theyre a little scary for most of us.” The teen barked out a laugh shaking her head.
“My whole career I’ve only done horror movies, that scream just is what it is at this point. Nothing behind it, just 5 years of perfecting it.” She said with a small shrug and a small smirk on her face.
“Jesus kid, you gave us a heart attack as a whole.” Hemsworth chuckled as he ruffled the girls hair making the teen roll her eyes with a small smile as she was called back to the set.
Taglist: @mythixmagic @boredandneedfanfics @natashamaximoff-69 @asiangmrchk13
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Milker (Wanda Maximoff X Fem!Reader)
Warnings: smut, lactation kink, dub-conish, praise kink, minors DNI (let me know if there’s more)
Summary: you wake strapped to your bed and tubes on your...
Милая = darling
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DO NOT CONTINUE IF YOU ARE A MINOR
For months you’ve been bound by her magic, confined permanently to her side in an effort for her to create her perfect reality with you by her side. No, you weren’t her’s. You came from another universe distant from hers where your Wanda had perished in a horrific accident which you would later find out was orchestrated by the Wanda before you.
This Wanda, from whatever universe she originated from, wanted you.
“Mилая…” she whispered as her long, deft fingers ran along your jawline. You stirred awake to find yourself confined once more. This time tubes were suctioned to your nipples as a warm, milky white liquid left the tubes and into a glass cup not too far from where you’re strapped down.
Upon instinct you thrashed wildly.
Yet, it doesn’t take you long to realize that your attempts would be futile.
A whine escaped your lips making the Scarlet Witch’s lips twitched into a smile. “There, there, милая. No need to struggle. See? The process is painless.” She remarked with her fingers lightly flicking the tube.
“L-let me go…” You pleaded.
Eyebrows twitched up in amusement. “Oh?” She mocked. Her finger that rested on your jaw trailed down your body, sending shivers in its wake before her hand rested over your clothed sex. She brought her lips close to your ear. “I don’t think so, Милая.”
Her thumb rubbed your slit through your clothing, making your squirm. Your body practically responded on its own. Hips thrusted for her touch, searching and yearning for more. “W-Wanda please…”
She hummed in approval especially as more liquid seemed to seep from your breasts and into the pump. So she slipped her fingers through your waistband and under your panties before finding your slicked sex. “I love how wet you are for me, Милая.”
She won. You know that.
“Please…” You begged pathetically.
Wanda placed a kiss on your cheek. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear, my love.” Her pointer and middle finger slipped into your digits. “Hmmm…that’s my good girl.” Her praise caused you to clench around her fingers and without wasting another second, her fingers began thrusting rapidly into you.
“Scream for me, Милая. I want the universe to know who you belong to…” She growled lowly into your ear. Her pace was ungodly. If you weren’t strapped down to the bed, you most likely would’ve fell off.
“W-Wanda…I-I’m gonna c-c…”
The words don’t escape your lips in time. Wanda sensed what was about to happen as she wrapped an arm around your body to keep you from convulsing wildly that you hurt yourself. “Cum for me…”
A wave of pleasure exploded from your core through your entire body as you cried out her name in a mantra. Your legs shook with fury.
But even as you orgasmed wildly, Wanda’s eyes trailed to your nipples watching as more of that sweet liquid left.
When you finally stopped shaking, Wanda flicked her wrist, removing the restraints from your arms and legs and the tubes from your breasts, allowing you to collapse completely on the bed. You were too tired to move, to even process what was going on around you.
Wanda’s fingers that tapped your cheek forces your eyes to open slightly. “You did wonderful, my love.” She smirked. In her hand you could see a glass filled three quarts of the way with white liquid.
She began chugging the liquid, making sure to maintain eye contact with you, and you watched as she eagerly drank up every last drop.
“Delicious…” Leaning down, she pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead all before she bean dipped you which caused you to yelp. “Rest, my love. I expect more for dinner.”
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Thanks for reading! This was not proofread at all so excuse me for the errors and if this doesn't make sense in the morning. i was drunk writing this
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“time-slipping”
— — — —
relationship: loki x fem!reader
summary: you were loki’s teenage love, but he lost you too soon. in his quest to save the sacred timeline, he time-slips to you, not knowing that you are the one thing that could help him.
warnings: none! :)
word count: 2.6k
notes: i guess i’m back in my loki era! this contains some spoilers for season two, so please read with caution if you have not seen it yet!
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The pain was like no other; time-slipping felt like Loki was being torn into a million pieces while being squished into a small box at the same time. Light flashed around him, making him feel dizzy whilst experiencing the excruciating pain. After the blinding few seconds that the phenomenon lasted, Loki finally landed in whatever spot the force thought he needed to be in next.
At first, he was confused. He was surrounded by trees and mountains—no where he had ever teleported to before. Once he got his bearings, he realized where he was.
Asgard.
It was strange. Each time Loki time-slipped, it was to a place that he had unfinished business in, whether it was the TVA in the past or the McDonald's in the way past that Sylvie worked in. He thought he had no unfinished business in Asgard.
He groaned. Unless it was to deal with his brother or his father.
As Loki began to curse whatever force was behind his teleportation for bringing him here to deal with his family drama, he heard a voice off in the distance. He paused, trying to determine where he knew this voice from. Then he heard it again and his heart skipped a beat.
"It can't be," he whispered under his breath, peeking around the tree that he spawned behind. But it was true. There, you sat, the first and greatest love he ever had.
You were on a stone bench in the middle of one of the many gardens of Asgard. Your hair was blowing in the soft summer breeze as you read aloud—your favorite way to read—a Midgardian book. Loki watched as you smiled or frowned with each line you read, taking in all of the features of your face that he missed so dearly.
You and Loki had met when you were teenagers. You lived in a cottage near the palace with your parents, both prominent jewelers in the realm. He came to their store one day with his brother to pick out a pair of earrings for the queen's birthday. You just happened to be sitting behind the counter talking with your mother when they arrived.
As soon as Loki laid eyes on you, he knew he wanted to marry you. You were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. While Thor worked with your mother to find the gift for Frigga, he walked over to you and began a conversation.
Loki came to the shop almost every day for two weeks, asking about you every single time. You never really frequented the store, so most of the time, your parents would turn him away. After his thirteenth visit in fifteen days, your father had enough and finally took Loki back to your cottage, where you were baking, another favorite hobby of yours. Your father explained that this "obnoxious prince" had tormented the store for too long and just wanted the pain to be over, as Loki stood behind him with a sheepish grin. You laughed and invited Loki to sit with you.
The rest became history. You and Loki officially began dating after a few outings, mostly walks along the forest or snacking on fruit in the palace's courtyard. Loki was enamored with you, as you were enamored with him.
But the worst happened just seven months after your relationship began. Loki left the palace that morning with the intention of bringing you to the library within the palace, somewhere you had expressed interest in seeing but never had the chance to visit. He planned a whole day: explore the shelves, allow you to pick as many books as you wanted, then have dinner with him and his family so you could meet them properly.
As he approached your neighborhood, he noticed swarms of people standing outside the perimeters as guards blocked anyone from approaching. Curious, Loki walked up to one guard that he recognized and asked what had happened. The guard explained that last night, a group of bandits had broken into the home of a jeweler with the intent to steal some of the more precious jewelry that they kept there. The family woke up in the process and they slaughtered all three: a mother, a father, and a daughter.
The words struck Loki like a knife. His heart sank as he started to push past the guards, but they refused to budge.
"Your highness, we cannot let you through. They are removing the bodies."
"No! You must! That's my love!" he cried, still trying to push past. But it was no use. He peeked through the gaps between the guards to see if he could catch a glimpse of the scene. The only thing he was able to see was your hand, one that he recognized because of the gold ring you always wore. It was covered in blood.
Loki shook the flashbacks out of his head as he continued to watch you read on the bench. Quite honestly, he never got over that day. It sent him into a dark spiral, one that probably led him to making all the poor choices he did and landing in this godforsaken TVA in the first place. But then he wondered, why would the slipping bring him here?
He tried to move closer to you without being obvious, hoping that there was something in the surroundings that would explain his sudden landing here. As he tiptoed closer, however, he stepped on a branch, leading to a loud crack! Your head snapped up at the noise, and you made eye contact with him. Loki froze, unsure of what to do.
"Loki?" you asked. "Is that you?"
He hesitated before saying, "Uh—Yes. It's me."
You smiled softly. "What are you doing? Why are you hiding? Come here."
You shifted to the side as you closed your book and placed it on your lap. He took a breath before emerging from underneath the tree. He could see you clearly now, and your beautiful face made his heart began to race all over again
How could this be happening? he wondered. How could you be here?
"You look... different. What's with the outfit change? It's so strange," you said through a giggle.
Loki smiled at your laugh, something that he hadn't heard in so long but always brought him comfort. He cleared his throat and answered, "Um, I was trying something new. Do you not like it?"
You shrugged, "I wouldn't say it's my favorite look of yours, but I could get used to it. Come sit next to me. I missed you."
He took another deep breath before sitting beside you on the bench, moving so carefully in case you were to disappear at any sudden movement. You reached over and brushed a strand of his hair behind his ear, noticing a new scar on the side of his face.
"What happened, sweetheart?" you asked with a frown, tracing your finger over it. "How could this have happened since last night?"
"Uh, it didn't," he replied, panicking for a response.
You furrowed your brows. "Then how have I never noticed it before? And why do you look so... different?"
You leaned back and looked at him closely, noticing some key differences. He looked older than you were used to, so much taller and so much stronger. He looked exhausted and frustrated and anxious all at the same time. Something in you said that this was not the Loki you knew.
Loki sighed, deciding to come clean. He could tell you knew something was up. And of course you did; he was foolish to think that he could ever pull the wool over your eyes. You were never one to fall for his tricks.
"The truth is, I'm from the future. I'm stuck in this... bureaucracy that controls the timeline of the universe. Something happened and the timeline is falling apart, and I've been slipping in and out of different places in time as a consequence."
You looked shocked for a moment, then laughed. But when Loki's face didn't change, you stopped.
"You're serious?" you asked with a surprised expression.
"Unfortunately, I am," he replied, hanging his head. "For some reason, I spawned here. I have no idea why. You—You're dead. You died, darling. And I don't know if this is some sort of torture from the bastard at the end of time or if there is some other motive—but it's breaking my heart to see you."
You looked at Loki as he sat beside you, breathing heavily and shaking from the emotions coursing through him. His words sat in your thoughts—you die? Well, obviously, you die at some point, but you die young?
You had a million questions to ask him about this circumstance, but you knew that wasn't the reason he was here. You decided to focus on him instead.
"Loki," you began, placing your hand on his shoulder. He looked up at you with tears running down his face.
"Don't cry, my love. You were brought here for a reason, and I doubt it was torture. What are you trying to do with this timeline? Do you need to fix it?"
He nodded, "We have to stop it from branching or—or this dangerous man will escape and start a war."
"Right," you said with a nod, although the entire situation confused you. "So what is stopping you?"
Loki sighed and looked back down at his hands. "I—I keep doing this time-slipping, and I don't know why. I cannot figure out what I am supposed to do. I've been working at it for centuries at this point, and every time I get remotely close, something happens and it doesn't work. And there's one final option left—but I just can't bring myself to do it."
Your heart broke at his lament. You loved him so much, and you hated seeing him so beat down like this. Then, he froze before picking his head up and looking at you with that mischievous grin that you recognized.
"I know! I know why I was brought here! I'm meant to save you!" he claimed excitedly. "I-I can save you from your death, and that way none of this would have ever happened. I can correct the wrongs of the past and just be happy."
His smile dropped when he realized you didn't return his excitement. Instead, you placed your hand on his knee and gave him a sad smile.
"I don't think that's the solution, love."
"No! It is! It has to be! This is the only place that the time-slipping has taken me to that had nothing to do with the people I met at the TVA. Clearly, I'm meant to prevent your death so that we can live happily together and I never made the mistakes I did."
"Loki," you said with a sigh, taking both of his hands in yours. "You said you had a choice to make, that there was a final option. Why won't you do it?"
He looked at you right in your eyes, clearly confused as to why you wouldn't just accept the fact that he wanted to save you. "Um, well, it would mean I'd never get to see my friends again. Like, physically. I'd be able to see them but they'd never be able to see me. And ever since you have been gone, I have had the hardest time finding a group of people to accept me again. I am not willing to let that go quite yet."
"Love, have I ever told you the story about my old dog?" you asked.
Loki looked at you with a puzzled expression. "Uh, no, I don't think so."
"Well," you began with a smile. "Her name was Daisy. She was this gorgeous little retriever who could brighten anyone's day. I got her when I was just four years old, so we pretty much grew up together. She was my favorite thing in the whole wide world. Then, just a few years ago, Daisy started to slow down. She was tired all the time, and she wouldn't eat or play. So, we took her to the closest animal expert. He said that she was really sick. We had to make the decision to either try a medicine that might work but could leave her in pain for the rest of her life or let her go out on her own terms. Do you know what we did?"
He shook his head.
"My parents left the decision up to me because she was technically my dog. I decided to not try the medicine and let her die on her own. It was the hardest decision I ever had to make. I would have loved to have more years with my Daisy, but I knew that she would not be happy. In the end, I had to make the choice that I knew was right, even if it meant losing something I loved."
Loki looked at you with wide eyes, nearly on the verge of tears again. He leaned into your shoulder as you wrapped your arms around him. Somehow, you always knew just what to say to make him feel better.
"So, my love," you began again, holding him close to you. "Sometimes we have to make the hard choice. Sometimes you have to give up something you love. But in the end, it will be worth it."
You held him for a while, no words spoken between the two of you. You could tell that Loki needed this, he needed to just be around you for a little while longer.
Loki, now knowing what he had to do, just took in the moment for as long as he could. It had been years since he felt you. He memorized every curve of your body, every feeling he had touching you, the way you gently rubbed circles on his shoulder, the way you placed a soft kiss on his forehead every so often.
"Thank you," he finally muttered, sitting up and looking at your eyes again. "I just miss you so much."
"I know, sweetheart," you said. "But look at the life you have without me!"
Loki shook his head with a cynical laugh. "I tried to kill Thor, destroy Jotunheim, then take over Midgard until I was captured and forced into this bureaucracy. I have had no life without you, darling."
You looked at him in disbelief for a moment, trying to figure out what to say to all that. "Well, now you have the chance to make up for all that. Be a hero, my love. What's that thing you always say? Greater purpose?"
He laughed, "Glorious purpose, yes."
"Yeah, that! Do that, sweetheart. I'll love you forever, no matter what happens. You know that."
He nodded and stood up, finally feeling ready to take on his mission. As he rose, he noticed the world around you starting to turn into string. He could not bear seeing you disappear again like he saw all his friends. It would be too much, losing you twice. You looked around in confusion as well.
"What's going on?" you asked with a puzzled look.
"It's no matter. Just look at me," Loki replied. You turned to face him. He smiled, memorizing your face one last time.
"Thank you again, my darling. I love you more than you'll ever know."
You smiled at him one last time.
Somehow, Loki had figured out how to control his time-slipping. He felt it in his veins as he was able to spawn back in the TVA without any excruciating pain or blinding light. He looked around at all of his friends—all the people he met on this journey. He closed his eyes and pictured you, the beautiful you he saw sitting on the bench and reading your book. He took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and formulated his plan to save the world.
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A Shot to the Heart - Bucky Barnes x OC
warnings: mr & mrs smith vibes, injuries, hurt x comfort, hospital stay
word count: 6.9k
WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1431325298-a-shot-to-the-heart-florence
vibe: "How are you feeling?" he asked, "You had me so worried, baby girl."
"Like I was hit by Mjolnir," she tried to smile weakly. She tried to lift her head but stopped, wincing and groaning.
Masterlist
It was quiet. Too quiet.
His target’s villa was supposed to be littered with bodyguards, even as Bucky made his way silently through the hallway leading to the man selling the latest deadly drug on the market, something felt off about the silence.
He’d encountered almost no resistance.
His heartbeat was thrumming steadily in his ears as he neared the main bedroom, the door beckoning him like a bullseye. His steps were quiet as he closed one fist around the handle while the other tightened on his trusty blade.
The door didn’t make a sound as he opened it and slipped through it, closing it swiftly as his ears caught the faint sound of music. Bucky’s brows furrowed as he inched closer to the noise leaking through the spacious wing. His intel was solid, he’d been monitoring the French-Algerian mercenary for a month now.
Batroc had a set routine; hide in plain sight while making connections with the local higher ups of the island he was currently hiding in, stay in his villa to host parties on the weekends, and he was always alone on weekdays. He even went to bed early.
Which is why Bucky was confused as to why he was awake– apparently with a companion from the sounds of seductive music filtering in through the walls, when he was supposed to be sleeping. The job was supposedly an easy in-and-out.
Pulling his gun with the silencer attached, he held the two weapons and decided to spring into action with quick steps only for his feet to stop at the sight of a very familiar body swaying seductively in front of a dazed looking French asshole. The woman’s back was to Bucky while she slowly stripped off a trench coat and dropped it to the floor. The blood rushing through his veins was boiling hot but not because of the black corset that was painted on her every delicious curve. No, it was because that body with a distinctive constellation of birthmarks on the back belonged to his wife.
Betrayal. Anger. White hot rage burned everywhere.
“Florence? What the fuck?!”
"Bucky," a tiny whisper left her lips, whether it was annoyance or surprise, Bucky wasn't quite sure.
His eyes flickered between Florence and Batroc, a dangerous man now with the upper hand as his realization clicked into place that he was in danger.
"Guards!" He bellowed, scrambling up from his seated position and tumbling over the side. Within seconds four sets of boots were rushing down the hall at them.
"What the hell are you doing here?" She whipped around on her stilettos. Clicking across the floor toward Batroc as she swiped her jacket from the floor, but it wasn't the jacket that came up in her hands, it was a slim, black pistol. Poised to kill.
"What am I doing here?" Bucky growled, slamming the thin doors closed behind him. They wouldn't keep the guards out but it would buy them some time. "You're a kindergarten teacher!" The shock was settling in, grasping a hold of any rational thoughts he might have had coming into this mission. "What are you doing here?" He kicked his boot against the couch and sent it flying up against the doors, barricading them inside.
“Listen, clearly we need to talk but this really isn’t the time, Bucky.”
Bucky stared at her bewildered, struggling to wrap his head around what his sweet, civilian wife was doing in the home of a French mercenary.
“No shit, sweetheart,” he hissed, head snapping at the sound of quickening footsteps and growing shouts. “Can you run in those?” He asked, pointing to her shoes.
“You know I can. I take it this is a normal Tuesday for you so what’s the plan?”
“Normal Tuesday,” He scoffed “I’ll talk to you about a normal Tuesday you just w-”
“James!” Bucky’s mumbles were cut off by Florence’s exasperated voice piercing through his ears, “not now.”
He shook his jumbled thoughts from his head as he found her eyes and nodded sharply, turning towards the door and pushing her just slightly behind him as he braced himself for the incursion.
“What are you doing?” She hissed.
“Florence just,”
Both their heads turned to the sounds of Batroc clambering to open a window on the far left side of the room. He watched her in complete awe, mouth agape as she raised her gun and pulled the trigger, the bullet piercing straight through his hand.
“You were saying?”
“Just, do exactly that I guess,” He turned back towards the sounds closing in on them and back to her, not a sliver of trepidation in her beautiful chestnut eyes. “And don’t get hurt, please.” His brows knit in worry before he took a steadying breath and turned away once more.
Florence scoffed as she stalked over to where Batroc lay on the ground, clutching his wrist and moaning painfully. She bent over, displaying her ass and the length of her legs, which had Bucky moaning almost as loud as his target but for an entirely different reason. His distraction was soon over as his wife scooped up her jacket and slipped it on before turning to Batroc once more.
“Where are the files, you piece of shit,” she hissed, pressing one stilettoed foot against his throat.
“Wait a second,” Bucky interrupted. “Files? What files?”
He saw his wife release a sigh of annoyance as she pressed the heeled foot into Batroc's chest now, making him wince in pain when her heel dug deep.
"I would say it's classified but..." she gave Bucky a wickedly brilliant smile over her shoulder that almost had him forgetting he was angry.
"...I'm guessing you're here for the same reason, my love. I want the files on the new drug he has circling around."
"I was sent to take him out," Bucky narrowed his eyes.
Florence rolled her shoulders and dug her heel deep into his chest as he tried to squirm away, mumbling something about internal communication under her breath.
"You were never supposed to find out this way." She looked up at him. Regret painted across her beautiful face.
Bucky opened his mouth to respond when the door behind him flew open and three men crashed into the room with their weapons drawn. He was quick on the first, grabbing his gun hand and slamming it against the door frame painfully and with enough force to snap the man's arm in half before kicking him backward out into the hallway.
"This conversation isn't over!" He grunted, taking a gunshot to his vibranium arm. It shuddered in response, curling up and rebounding the bullet away. "You guys never learn." He hauled back his arm, the plates shifting and clicking before making contact. The man yelped and stumbled backward, dropping his gun and clutching his crushed face as Bucky stalked him.
A gunshot rang out in the room, Bucky turning only to catch the third man crumbling to the floor, a leaking hole through his temple.
"You're welcome, sweetheart." Florence quipped with a shrug of her slender shoulders.
"Ren!" Bucky barked as a second shot echoed. Batroc's bloody hand curled around the handle aimed at Florence. Bucky slammed his boot against the throat of the second guard, rendering him unconscious as Florence exhaled a shaky breath and her fingers found the blood that poured from her shoulder.
"You shot me!" She groaned loudly, turning on Batroc and laying a swift, hard kick across his face. Clipping his arm in the motion, his gun went sliding across the room as more footsteps pounded down the hallway toward them. "We need to..." her words faltered and so did her step as the color drained from her face.
Bucky's eyes widened and he rushed forward, adrenaline pumping furiously through his veins as he reached for Florence. She glanced down at the blood pooling from the bullet hole and swayed, stumbling for the wall as Bucky swiftly caught her. He pressed his fingers to her shoulder, trying to staunch the wound.
"Fuck! Florence, sweetheart, you gotta stay with me long enough for us to get out of here. Think you can do that for me?" He murmured as he tried to tamper down the rising panic. Never mind that she'd lied to him, if anything happened to her he'd lose it.
"Huh?" Florence hummed, glassy eyes meeting his.
"We gotta get out of here, Ren. I gotta get you out of here."
"Batroc..." she mumbled but Bucky couldn't dart his eyes away from her while he tried to hold her upright.
"I don't give a fuck about Batroc. All I care about is you right now, pretty girl." Her weight was getting heavier in his arms and he forced himself to look around for any other danger. He wouldn't risk her getting hurt again only because he let his emotions take over for a short moment.
Instead of using the advantage, Batroc was glued to the floor in front of them, the gun still in his bloody hand. Bucky's eyes narrowed and he shot the French a death glare that normally was reserved for Red Wing.
"You!" he started, adjusting his grip around Florence's middle while his vibranium hand reached into the holster that was securing multiple knives to his thigh.
"Merde," Batroc hissed, spinning around and trying to open the window behind him with his good hand. Bucky flicked the knife and it pierced effortlessly through Batroc's hand, making him grunt in pain.
“No-one. Touches. My. Wife.” Bucky growled through gritted teeth, shoving down the urge to make the mercenary’s last meal a mouth full of vibranium.
A gentle touch to his cheek brought him back to himself and he looked down at his precious burden, who stared at him with a look of utter adoration.
“That was really hot,” she slurred but then her eyes rolled backward and her lids fluttered closed, her hand falling from his face as she slipped into unconsciousness.
“Ren, REN! Shit!” Bucky hissed as he held her tighter, running out of the room as carefully as he could.
“Medic, we need…agent down…shot. I need her…just…help…” he babbled into his comm, his voice cracking as he tried to relay the information.
The response confirming they heard him and help is on the way was muted by the chaos around them both.
"Fuck! Just– just hang on baby, I'll get you out of here."
He told Florence, trying to keep her concious enough to get them out of there safely. Her body was getting heavier in Bucky's arms as he carried her and maneuvered around the room with shots coming from every direction and headed to the only exit available; the window.
Peering out once he was close enough, Bucky tightened his grip on Florence. All he could see was a thin ledge running along the outside of the villa, the one Batroc must have clung to before climbing in through the window. There was no way he would be able to balance on that with his wife in his arms, or use it to leverage himself down further.
The drop wasn't huge, but he still didn't like the idea of jumping, not with Florence fading in and out, her blood seeping into his own tac jacket, hot and sticky, as he held her closer. She groaned softly, skin pale and dewy with sweat.
"It's alright, pretty girl. I got you," he gritted out just as a shot whistled past him, shattering the plaster of the wall in front of them. "Fuck. Okay, we gotta go. Hold on tight, Ren. S'gonna be okay."
Bucky heaved himself up onto the window ledge, glancing once behind him. Pressing his lips into Florence's hair, he put his focus on his landing point and counted down quietly before jumping.
“Just… fo- for the record… I’m as ba- badass as you,” she mumbled, a ghost of a smile dancing on her lips.
“Shhh. Save your energy, baby. You can show me all your badass-ness later.” He couldn’t stop his heart from going haywire.
Boot steps were echoing through the room he just climbed out of and while tightening his one arm around Florence, he held his gun through the window with the other, shooting completely blind. To his own surprise he heard the thud of a body right after the ringing of the shot vanished in his ears.
With quick head movements he scanned their surroundings.
Pressing them up against the wall of the villa, he took a glance back down at Florence and his heart sank even further when he saw she’d slipped back into unconsciousness.
Quickly sliding along the wall and back around to his entry point he blinked away the tears that threatened to cloud his vision as he rasped against the lump that had formed in his throat.
“I know you’d have made that jump, pretty girl, even in heels. God, I’m so proud of you, I mean, I was before too, wrangling toddlers needs nerves of steel but…I’m rambling, sweetness, I know, I’m sorry. I just want you to wake up.”
He sniffled loudly and carefully adjusted the long leather jacket around his wife’s lingerie-clad form, making sure she wouldn’t get too chilled.
He took a glance to the left and right before dashing across the villa’s courtyard and towards the side gate where he’d entered not ten minutes before.
Reaching his car, Bucky laid Florence delicately in the passenger seat, as if she were made of glass, before climbing behind the wheel and setting off in the direction of his rendezvous point, hoping beyond hope that the med-evac would get there in time.
A thousand thoughts raced through his mind as Bucky drove. Voices over his comm directed him where he needed to go but it all seemed to fade in the background as images of their life together flashed before him. The night they met, their wedding...Bucky felt a pang of hurt in his chest when his mind raised the question of if any of it was real.
Saddened blue eyes flickered to his wife, her chest barely rising and falling with her shallow breaths. Waking her up would mean having to face the fact that their relationship he thought was built on honesty and truth was tainted with a secret so big it got her hurt.
After a few sharp turns and questionable roads he spotted the med-evac waiting for them just beyond the brush. Bucky quickly threw the car into park and slid his wife from the vehicle, her soft groans and whimpers only shattered off pieces of his heart the more he jostled her around. "You're gonna get through this." He whispered into her hair. "Don't you die on me Ren."
"Sergeant Barnes! Sergeant!"
The shouts made the woman in his arms flinch for a moment as he turned to see a handful of people coming towards him, carrying all kinds of medical aid.
"Sergeant Barnes! What happened?" One of them questioned while he rushed to get her on the stretcher they laid for her. His wife's whimpers of pain pierced through his heart as they started to undress her from the top to see the wound.
"Be careful with her," Bucky whispered. Not really paying attention to anything else but the love of his life as he cradled her pale face in his palms.
"Sergeant? May I ask who this is?" An agent accompanying the medical team asked in a careful tone, "we were not informed there would be anyone else but you, sir."
He didn't answer. He didn't know how to even begin to explain the situation when his head was swarmed with questions of his own.
Another pained whimper left Ren's mouth, this one louder and breaking through his thoughts.
"I said be fucking careful!" Bucky seethed at the medic.
The woman's eyes flicked to him but her expression remained passive as she examined the bullet wound, unaffected by his anger. He supposed they had to be.
"It was a through and through, but she's lost a lot of blood," Bucky explained, "just-- fuck, you gotta save her."
"We'll do our best, Sergeant. Are you travelling back with us?"
It took a second for the medic's words to catch up and he glowered, stepping closer with his vibranium hand balled into a fist.
"I'm sorry? You'll do your best? You fucking save her and that's an order."
"Sergeant, stand down," a voice piped up amongst the fray just as the medic murmured out a weak, "yes, Sarge."
The medic started to put ECG electrodes all over Florence‘s upper body and Bucky‘s eyes darted over to the monitor to see how his wife was doing.
Her heart was beating regularly, but slower than usual. The sound of her normal, steady heartbeat while he had his head resting on her chest was burned into his brain.
He struggled more and more to keep the concern at bay, but when they placed the cuff around her good arm and he saw how low her blood pressure was, his heart ached and he was sure someone was tightening a rope around his chest.
“Do something,” he whispered, his eyes wandering to Ren‘s unconscious face. She looked almost peaceful, like she was sleeping. And she was so fucking beautiful even with her paled skin and sweat all over her face. He’d been the luckiest man on earth that she chose him all those years ago. At least he thought he was, until today when his world was turned upside down.
“You listen to me, Florence Barnes,” he gritted, shouldering a poor medic out of the way as he leaned towards his wife’s ear. “I know we said in sickness and in health but this is taking things a bit too far now, don’t you think?”
The medics eyed each other in shock and surprise, one mouthing his wife?! at the others before they doubled-down their efforts to stabilise the fallen agent.
“Baby, you just gotta…fight…you know? I know I’m an absolute train wreck, ha, but I need you, Ren, I need you so much.”
A harsh beep from the equipment had the medics moving even more frantically as one of them turned to Bucky and grabbed his elbow.
“With all due respect, Sergeant, move, now!”
Bucky glared down at the medic, wrenching his arm out of their grasp. "Save Her.”
The medic gave him a solemn nod before Bucky stepped back and let them get to work. He watched from the edge of the bay, pacing every few moments before stopping whenever they'd start barking orders at each other. He knew enough medical terminology to patch a bullet wound, but anything deeper than that he was foggy. It felt like his heart wanted to explode out of his chest until a familiar voice came over his comms.
"Florence! Buck you brought Florence on a mission with you what the hell man!" Sam's angry voice echoed through his ear.
"I didn't bring her." Bucky muttered as he stared at his wife.
"What did you just say?"
"She was already there."
“The fuck? Man what the hell is goin’ on?!”
“Fuck if I know, Sam,” Bucky replied.
He hated this, the helpless feeling he never thought he’d experience with Florence. The worst case scenario played out in his head as he watched on — he would have to tell her family, her kids, fuck, who wants to tell a bunch of kindergarteners their teacher died? He let himself wonder briefly what song she would want played and that’s when he broke. A sob worked its way up his throat, his bottom lip quivering.
“Hey,” Sam’s voice came again, softer this time. “She’s still here, Buck. She’s gonna fight and you gotta be strong for her.”
Bucky nodded, sure Sam could probably see him somehow, and wiped his eyes just as a medic approached him tentatively.
“Sergeant, we have her stabilised but we need to leave now, are you coming with us?”
“Yeah, yeah” He whispered, clearing his throat. “Sammy,”
“I’ll see you two in a few Buck, we’re not losing her. That’s a promise.”
Sam’s voice faded into static as he disconnected on his end and with that Bucky took out his earpiece with a disheartened huff as he made his way to the med-evac.
When they reached the van’s double doors he paused, taking a deep breath before the agent next to him spoke.
“Sir, we’re not too far from base and we’ve got her covered until we get there. Would you like to ride alone with her in the back?” The blonde smiled sympathetically as he raised his eyes from the road to meet hers.
“Is that safe? I don’t- I need her to be okay,”
“I can jump back if needed but she’s stable for right now. She does need to go into surgery as soon as we get to base, so you know,”
“As long as you save her, anything.” He whispered before adding. “I apologize for my outburst, agent.”
“Understandable. I hope you don’t mind my saying but, I think we can all agree you’ve lost enough in your life already, Sergeant. We’ll do everything we can.”
Bucky nodded, holding back tears as his heart clenched tightly in his chest before stepping inside the cabin, settling gently in the bench beside the stretcher where his entire soul lay still.
He could make out a thick bandage secured with tape over Florence‘s shoulder, her arm bent and held by a makeshift sling.
“You can grab her hand if you want to. Show her that you’re here by her side,” the medic suggested but Bucky hesitated.
“I don’t… I don’t want to hurt her,“ he mumbled, struggling more and more to hold back the tears that made his vision blurry. He needed her to be safe in an OR at the base before he would let himself fall apart.
“You won’t. She’s a fighter, that's for sure.” the blond smiled again. Bucky reached out a shaking hand and grabbed Ren‘s small one in his. He’d done that thousand times before but today everything was different. His thumb brushed over the top of her hand before he pulled it close and placed a tender kiss on each of her knuckles.
And despite his best efforts, in this moment Bucky let the emotions break him. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he breathed “I love you” and “Please don’t leave me” shakily on her skin over and over again.
By the time they’d arrived at the base and whisked Florence into surgery Sam had landed. He stalked over to Bucky, his wings still in the process of folding, and wrapped the super soldier in his arms.
Bucky shattered.
He didn’t think he’d cried that much or that hard since the night that Ayo had taken him into the Wakandan bush. His friend murmured platitudes in his ear and stroked his back, holding him as tight as he needed to feel grounded again. It was only when Bucky’s sobs finally subsided that Sam let him go, leading him over to some hard plastic chairs that were bolted to the floor.
Bucky slumped into one, his elbows on his knees as he rested his head in his hands, clutching at his hair in desperation.
“Why was she even there, Sam?” He asked weakly.
“I did some digging on the way over, called some people. Ren’s one of us, man. She’s an agent,” Sam said gently, leaning forwards to try and catch Bucky’s eye.
“I figured,” Bucky mumbled, his words almost slurring together, “but…but…how?!”
“Sleeper agent,” Sam tried to clarify. “Trained with SHIELD, and then reintegrated into society when it fell. Her job is legitimate, she is actually a qualified kindergarten teacher, but her backstory is…crafted and she’s called on when she’s needed for a job. Obviously this was one of those times,” Sam shrugged, looking almost as confused as Bucky.
"How the hell did I not know? For years?" Bucky muttered.
"She's still Ren, Buck." Sam said. "What you guys had was still real. You know how this works."
"She lied Sam." He glanced over at him, "she knew about me. Hell, she knows everything."
Sam let out a sigh as he leaned back into the chair, "and you know how SHIELD is."
"I just don't get why she couldn't tell me. What difference would it have made?"
Sam chuckled lowly and somehow Bucky knew exactly what he was going to say.
"You can't honestly tell me that if you knew she was an agent, you wouldn't have pulled some over-protective bullshit every time she was called up on a mission?"
"She's my wife, Sam. I made a promise to keep her safe. After everything, the least I can do is keep the love of my life safe. She had no back up in there, I would have seen them if she did."
"Head over heart, man," Sam murmured, "it's the core rule of this job."
Bucky huffed, eyes on the double doors that led to Florence. The waiting was unbearable, the longer he had to think, the worse his thoughts became.
"That's a fuckin' stupid rule," he muttered, pushing to his feet when the need to move, to do anything but sit still, took over.
Bucky stalked to the double doors leading to the ORs before turning back to Sam. "Why send us separately to the same target with separate missions though? It's hard enough to accept Ren's an agent but," his voice wavered. Shaking his head, he stalked past Sam and towards the external doors.
"Hey man, where are you going?" Sam called after him, "Bucky, stop, Ren needs you here." He chased after Bucky and, placing his hand on his shoulder, his friend stilled. "You need to be here, Bucky. Ren needs you."
"I need answers Sam, I could have gotten her killed by bursting in when I did. Someone's fucked up big time and I've got to find out who!"
Any further argument was lost as the doors opened before them and a doctor appeared. Both men eyed him warily and there was a moment of silence so profound that they could hear the subtle whir of the plates in Bucky’s arm as his fingers twisted nervously together.
“Doc?” He croaked, needing to know but not wanting to hear.
“Sergeant Barnes, your wife’s out of surgery. We cleaned up the wound and stopped the bleeding. We’re giving her medication for the pain and some additional blood but taken her off sedation. She should wake up soon.” He paused, seeing the incomprehension on Bucky’s face. “Your wife’s going to be ok, Sergeant.”
Bucky barely grunted his thanks before pushing through the doors behind the doctor in search of his wife.
His hand trembled against the door of her room, everyone seemed to disappear around him as he came to a halt. He could hear them talking to him, at him but none of it mattered. Ren was on the other side of that door and he wasn't sure he would ever be ready to face what condition she was in.
As the adrenaline settled and his thoughts started to slow down the guilt and grief seemed to flood in.
"Do you want me to go first?" Sam asked from his side, the only voice that cut through the static.
"No," Bucky shook his head and inhaled deeply before pushing the door open and wandering inside. The faint beeping of machines and the smell of cleaning solution clouded his senses. Florence lay in the middle of the tubes and machines, so still it made his heart constrict in his chest. He hated it. "Oh baby," He sunk down on the side of the bed and rested his head against her hand, taking a moment to forget about his anger and frustration and to just worry about her.
Sam slowly made his way around the bed and rubbed Bucky's back. "I'm sorry, man," he murmured softly. "But she'll make it. Florence is one heck of a tough girl."
Bucky raised his head and looked at her, she looked so small in that bed, and her face was so pale. Despite all the tubes and wires, the beeping of the monitors was kind of reassuring. "She has to put up with me," he responded, "but when she left the house this morning..." He gulped and shook his head again. "How did I miss this, Sam? Some fucking super soldier I am."
"Don't beat yourself up about it, Buck," Sam replied quietly as he gave Bucky's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You good here? Or do you want me to stay for a while?"
Bucky heaved a sigh, eyes never straying from Florence as the thought about his answer. He reached across the bed to brush a stray hair from her face, fingertips lingering. She had more colour in her face now, cheeks warm and pink, but Bucky still found himself begging for movement -- a flicker of her eyelids, twitch of her mouth.
"I'm alright," he breathed after a moment. "Can you stick around the base though, as soon as she's fit for transport I wanna get her back to the compound and I want you travelling with us."
"Course, man. Give me a shout if you need me."
Bucky listened as the doors swung closed and the room fell into an eerie quiet save for the beeping of machines and Florence's steady breaths.
Reaching up carefully, he wrapped his hand around hers, tangling their fingers together. "What the hell were you doing there?" He whispered to her, knowing she wouldn't answer. At least not right now. Confusion and anger wrapped around his insides the longer he watched her sleep. A thousand unanswered questions plagued his mind and only caused more tiny little fractures in his heart.
It confused to no end why she didn't tell him, why she wasn't honest with him about this part of her life. His wife almost never lied to him— intentionally or not.
Didn't she trust him? Did she think this kind of a secret could be kept forever? What if—
The twitch of her hand in his cut off his destructive train of thought. Ren's eyes were flickering open and closed causing Bucky's heart to still as he willed her chocolate eyes to open and reassure him that she was okay. Her hand tightened only slightly around his fingers and her head turned slowly in his direction, the softest smile graced her lips as she settled again, eyes closed but her posture more peaceful.
"Just be okay," he whispered. Leaning in to pepper kisses on the hand cradled in his while tears stung his eyes.
"We'll figure out the rest."
Bucky sat in that room for hours, going back and forth on what he would say to her the moment she woke. The doctors came and went and his impatience grew with every passing second and annoying beep or question.
He wanted answers, he wanted his wife.
He didn't know what he wanted but he knew if Steve had been there he'd have the answer and that only made him more angry. He had moved on, he had worked so hard to find a person that could understand him the way Steve had and it felt like a lie. He knew better than to believe that, he trusted Florence with everything so short of her being assigned to him and their entire marriage being a ruse. Nothing she would say could convince him she didn't love him too. He had felt her love every single time she was near him. So patient and delicate as he worked through so much unforeseen trauma.
"Come back to me baby," he whispered from trembling, exhausted lips.
Time dragged and the monotonous beep became the background noise to his cheek pressed to Florence’s arm, resting his eyes. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been dozing when he heard it, the soft croak of a voice he’d been dreaming of somewhere above him.
“Bu- Buck?”
Bucky snapped his head up.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured as Florence tried to speak again, her eyes fluttering open. “Shh. Shh, hang on, baby. Lemme get you some water.”
He propped her bed up a little before guiding the straw to her dry lips.
“I was shot,” she whispered once she was done. “Fuck.”
Bucky chuckled, cradling her cheek delicately and pressing a kiss to her forehead.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, "You had me so worried, baby girl."
"Like I was hit by Mjolnir," she tried to smile weakly. She tried to lift her head but stopped, wincing and groaning.
"Stay still," Bucky admonished, "you almost died today." Florence closed her eyes and took a breath before looking at Bucky's hand on hers, she twisted her fingers to take his wedding ring and begin turning it.
"You weren't meant to find out this way, Buck. I never meant for this to happen."
He sucked into a breath and shook his head, his hand tightening in hers for a moment, "why didn't you tell me?"
Her eyes found his and his heart dropped seeing the hesitation in her features. Ren's lips parted to say something before all that came out was a breath.
"Please tell me."
He begged in a hushed tone, trying to have the patience to manage her fragile state while pushing away doubts and fears of his own.
"This was the first mission I've been put on since we got married, Buck. I thought.." her voice trailed off and she bit her lip nervously.
"I thought I was done with that part of my life. I told my superior that I was off the day we met, I didn't want to do that anymore." Ren continued, the words rushing out with the rising frustration clear in her eyes.
He didn't understand. Bucky's eyes were searching her own but there was nothing but sincerity and anguish as Florence delivered the final punch to the gut.
"We met while I was on an assignment, and I just.. quit. Or so I thought." She mumbled the last part as her fingers dug into his palm as if willing him to believe her.
"So why this case? Why lie?" Bucky searched for answers to help make sense of her explanation.
"It wasn't my choice," She moved uncomfortably, just trying to close the gaps between them. "I couldn't tell you and when they call," she stopped.
"You go." Bucky knew that well, there was always another war to fight, another bad guy to bring down. It never ended and someone always came looking for help. It's not that he didn't want to, but he was tired and looking at Florence he had thought he found his haven from that. Someone who would never need him in that way but now... "I'm not mad you," he said. "I know it seems like I am but," he rolled his fingers over her cheek. "Tell me and don't lie to me. Was I ever a mission?"
"No," she answered without hesitation. "Never. Not once, they never even tried to take that route. It's why I quit in the first place."
"It was never going to be easy for me, was it?" Bucky murmured sadly and Florence made a little wounded sound as she brought his hand to her lips. "Makes sense that I'd fall in love with someone whose seen just as much bloodshed as me."
"Is that such a bad thing?" Florence countered. Bucky let out a shaky breath. "C'mere." Bucky scooted closer as she pressed soft kisses to his knuckles before turning his hand and kissing his palm. With her eyes closed, her long eyelashes fanned out over her cheeks and she looked every bit the angel she is.
"I never wanted you to see that side of me, of my job, Ren. Not first hand, not like this."
"I don't care, Bucky. I've always known who you are and what you do and I married you anyway. And besides, it was my job too. I knew I could have handled anything you decided to show me."
"You may not care, but I care!" His voice raised and almost broke. He pulled his hand away as he stood, the chair flew back abruptly and came to rest against the wall. Ren winced at his raised voice but knew with confidence that he'd never hurt her.
Bucky had begun to pace the room. "You're my angel, it's my job to protect you, to keep you safe...." His hands fisted his hair, "My whole world relies on the normality and routine of our lives...." He looked at her for the first time since he stood up. "This blows everything I believed we had out of the water."
"I'm still me!" She yelled, "I'm still the woman you fell in love with and I'm still the woman who is in love with you James Barnes."
His face crumpled for a moment as he stared at her.
"Now I am not throwing years of marriage away because of this. *I am not going anywhere*." Her brows furrowed as those big brown eyes looked up at him. Those eyes he tripped in the first time he saw her. Stumbling over his words, his heart racing with every moment she spared him and that smile. God that smile lit up every dark corner of his mind the first time he saw it. "Are you?" Her voice cracked softly as they watched each other. Both expecting to make a decision.
Bucky let out a long drawn out breath and shook his head. "No."
A weak, teary laugh escaped her and Bucky's heart broke over the sound.
"Good. Because you're stuck with me," she announced. "One injured shoulder won't keep me away from you." She told him, trying to smile through the tension and tears pooling in her eyes.
He couldn't stay away from her any longer when she buried her face in her hands and started crying, the soft sniffling and hiccups coming from her had Bucky closer in a heartbeat, his arms enveloping the love of his life gently. Protectively.
"I'm telling them I'm out for good," Florence mumbled into his chest, her voice thick.
"Are you sure? I know you said--"
"Yes. Fuck, Bucky. I don't want to do this anymore. I wanted normal too, you know. I wanted to *be* your normal, your safe space. I want to keep coming home to you and telling you stupid stories about my kids, I want to keep having lazy weekends with you and late night grocery store runs."
Bucky laughed wetly, pressing a kiss into her hair, careful of her shoulder as he held her tighter.
"I want that too," he whispered, "just, no more secrets, sweetheart, I don't think my old heart could take it."
They sat quietly, as if counting their blessings, murmuring their wishes and promises for their lives moving forward, everything now out in the open.
They were interrupted by a rapping at the door and both of them turned as it opened. Sam poked his head through. "I was just checking in, Bucky..." he began. "Oh thank god you're awake, Ren, Bucky was out of his mind..."
"Is there any wonder?" Bucky retorted, turning back to Ren. "I thought I'd lost you for sure."
"I've told you, I'm not going anywhere, Buck. We're going to grow old together," Florence smiled, moving to sit up. "Ooh that fucking smarts."
"I'm sure you're due some more pain relief by now," Sam responded. "Let me go find the doc to sort you out, and start arranging for the airlift home."
Bucky watched Sam leave before turning back to Ren. A soft grin spread across her face as her fingers traced along the edges of his scruffy face. "You know, seeing you in action was pretty hot." She said lowly.
He laughed and shook his head. "Me? What was that outfit you were wearing and why the hell have I not seen you in it?"
"That old thing?" She whispered, "was cheap and not my style."
Bucky leaned down, bringing her hand to his lips kissing the inside of her wrist, "Could it?"
Florence raised a brow at him with a smirk.
"I mean when you're healed." He clarified, "You aren't doing anything for the next few weeks except bed rest."
"It's a shoulder wound." Florence laughed at him.
"And you are my wife." Bucky countered, "Which means I get to dote on you until you're better."
Her hand curled around the back of his neck, tangling in the short hairs there, "I could get used to that."
"Good." He said as he leaned into her, whispering against her lips before kissing her for the first time since he left home that morning, letting the monotonous beeping and horror of the day disappear until all that was left was them.
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Julia: Y/N, you wanna go swinging?
Mattie: No fair, I was going to teach him skateboarding.
Anya: Actually, I need his help to make more web fluid.
Y/N: Okay, skateboarding first. Then I help Anya make web fluid, then we can all go for a swing. Deal?
All: Deal.
Taglist: @fandomnerd9602 @thebisexualdogdad @6rookie-writer0110 @oxydedoesstuff @multi-fandom-enjoyer @kingofthelizardpeople @devilsjacket @spiderfan922 @kneeeeellllll @lnlnbb @the-protector-97 @ma1egamer @ab1nsur @crimsonkokopelli @ornii @cole-el @justacuteduck @p4rallel-universe @reddeath125 @xenoncitadel @kaimeioneclipse @eddieboi23 @redsxcks @kseung @skylarinfinity @captain-lessship @nickalpatel @jacobblack3751009 @ocyrus @anon-stuff-yk @th3g0dofdarkn3ss @archie-is-an-addict @jadenyukiyusakufujikiyutoduelist @thatonesexymotherfucka @amphibiahawks321
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The Flirting Skills of Spiderverse Characters
Pairing: Peter B. Parker, Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy, Miguel O'Hara, Hobie Brown, Pavitr Prabhakar x Reader
Tags: fluff, crush, flirting, established relationship, kissing, confidence boost, secret identity
A/N: I asked myself if these characters have rizz and behold!
Peter does have pretty good flirting skills once you start dating. Until the he's a tiny bit awkward but not too much, he knows you already like him. His smiles are always a litte loopsided when he walks his fingers up your arm, to your cheek, watching goosebumps bloosom on your skin right before he kisses you.
Miles needs to look up pick up lines before he sees you. They don't help. Well they do but not in the way he thought. He mixes up his lines from how nervous he is but instead of messing up his chances with his crush, you end up liking him even more then you did before.
Gwen is a pretty good flirt once she becomes fond of you. In and out of the costume actually. In the costume more before you start to return her feelings but when she's sure you feel the same way she does hard on the flirting when she's outside of the costume and eases up while she's in the costume.
Miguel flirts like no other. Kissing your cheek, dipping down like you're in a dance, always pulling you to his chest while looking at you with the most smug grin on his face. How could he not with the reactions he pulls from you, all those yelps and dreamy sighs and mindmelting kisses you give him in return.
Hobie flirts without meaning to. He is naturally a very touchy, energetic guy so he makes your heart skip a beat without trying to. If he does try you're in real trouble. It was already hard enough to try not to kiss him while he was just a friend but now he's actually putting the moves on you. Worst of all he knows exactly what he's doing to you and he's not slowing down.
Pavitr is a smooth talker outside of the costume but not in it. When he sees you face to face his confidance goes up by a lot but when you're looking at him like you don't really know him, he falters. Always the one to put his arm around your shoulder and pull you into a kiss, smiling into it as you cup his jaw, silently asking for one more.
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Natasha giggles…
Natasha: stop that! That tickles!
Y/N runs the pink baby booties across Natasha’s belly…
Y/N: these boots are made for walking-
Natasha: you fruit!
Wanda: what’s going on? Ohmygosh! Are we doing the little bootie walks across her pregnant belly?! I use to love that! I want in!
Y/N hands her a spare set, Wanda gladly joins in…
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Could you imagine the first time people hear Bucky giggle. Not a belly laugh, not a chuckle, not a snort or a cackle. A giggle. The cutest, most adorable giggle with the nose scrunch and shy smile and flushed cheeks. Sam paused mid sentence, doing a double take before staring back at Tony.
“Did-did you just hear that?”
Tony’s face scrunches into something between a cross of amusement and confusion when he hears it again.
“The man who threw me off a roof is giggling”
“He almost shot me in the face” Tony snorted, the both of them watching Bucky scroll through a phone he just learned to use. He’s blissfully unaware he’s the current centre of attention, fully invested with scrolling through tiktok. He’s splayed out on the couch like a baby while his head rests on your lap, nearly purring in between his giggles when you card your fingers through his hair.
“He’s like a house cat. A really large, has the ability to kill us all from miles away, house cat” Sam shook his head. You absolutely love when he giggles because it’s not often. It’s when he’s relaxed and happy without a care in the world, comfortable enough to let his guard down. He comes the sweetest puppy ever and it melts you every time.
“You’re so cute, baby” you lean over to peck his nose causing another adorable sound to sneak out, his cheeks blushing even more “the absolute cutest”
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Push him
masterlist ko-fi ao3
Avenger! Bucky Barnes x PR manager! Reader
Summary: When you became Avenger’s PR manager, you basically got your dream job, but one particular man, who had been staring at you every single time you were around, made you wonder whether it was because he hated or liked you.
Word count: 6.8K
Warnings: smut, bucky is obsessed with your short skirts, bucky is recovering, grumpy x sunshine, good friend natasha romanoff, office sex, oral sex (f), unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, pet names
Author's note: ‼️so if you haven't seen my previous post, this is my new account. you may have seen this work on my old one (@inmyicyworld) but it was terminated and @support doesn't respond to me. please, follow and share this work. I'm going to reupload all of my old fanfics and hope to get your support ❤️
The work at the Avengers Tower wasn’t what you expected it to be. Tony Stark found you while you were working for another company a little bit more than a month ago. He was amazed by the way you were dealing with problems, by your charisma, and by your ability to find a common language with everyone. That’s how he knew that he had to have you as his partner and a part of the team.
The next day, you got a call directly from Tony, asking you to quit your job and accept his offer to work as Avenger’s PR manager. It would be an understatement to say that your jaw dropped to the floor when you heard your salary.
He said that you were totally worth it and that working with a group of such different people was not easy, but he was sure that you would be perfect at this. So on that exact day, you decided to take a risk and accept the challenge.
One thing that you hated about your previous job was the strict dress code. It was simply far from your style because you hated wearing the same basic and boring clothes every day. Tony said that it was the last thing that he cared about, and in that building, no one was obligated to wear certain clothes.
You knew that it was your lucky ticket.
He was actually really friendly and funny in person. You talked a lot during your first day while he was showing you all the necessary places in the tower: your office, his lab, common rooms and kitchens, avenger’s rooms, and even a beautiful garden on the roof. By the way, Tony allowed you to decorate your office however you wanted and gave you the number of the person who was responsible for this.
In short, it was perfect.
You were giddy with excitement on your first actual day of work. According to the plan, you had to meet with the Avengers and then arrange a few meetings for Tony.
It felt like you spent hours before your mirror deciding what to wear. Your whole room was a mess, and when you finally completed your look, which consisted of a short black skirt, beige long sleeve and a brown leather jacket on top, it was already time to go.
Everyone in the room heard you before they saw you because of the sound of your heels clicking on the wood floor.
“Don’t tell me that this is our PR manager, Stark.” Black Widow looked you up and down with a smirk on her face. “You look good, hun. Finally, someone with a taste in this boring group of losers, besides me and Wanda, of course.”
“Hi.” You nicely smiled, not ready to get a compliment as soon as you stepped into the room.
“Ohh, she’s also the sweet one.” Another red-headed woman, Wanda, said with a smile.
“You both, shut up.” Tony stood up from the armchair with a pack of chips in one hand and threw the other one over your shoulder. “Want some?” He asked you, showing the food, but you slightly shook your head. “Whatever… Now, you all listen here, this is Y/N; she’s our new PR manager. I stole her from someone because she’s incredibly smart and good at her job. Starting from this moment, she’s going to cover up your asses and organize all this stupid media stuff.” You blushed at his words but were still silent. “So, this is Natasha, Wanda, Steve, Bucky, and Th—wait, you already know them, right?”
“Yeah, of course I do.” You chuckled. “By the way, it’s nice to meet all of you. I hope we can work together, and I will have a chance to be helpful.” You took a look at all the Avengers in the room, and everyone looked at you with a smile except one person, whose eyes sent shivers down your spine.
When you looked at Bucky, you saw that his eyes were scanning your body with an unreadable expression, and you suddenly felt really weird in your short skirt. Your eyes met, and his famous death stare was really quite scary. He didn’t like you? You two were staring at each other for a few seconds, and you believe that the rest of the team noticed it because Steve loudly cleared his throat to get your attention.
He asked you a few questions about you, and Clint and Sam made a few jokes. Everything was fine as you all chatted for a little bit until Tony said that everyone should get ready for tomorrow’s mission, and you too have a lot to do.
You went back to your office only with the thought that, during this whole time, Bucky was staring at you like he wanted to burn a hole in your head.
Later that day, Bucky was sitting at the kitchen island with a cup of already-cold coffee while Steve was making himself dinner. It was quiet besides the sound of the cooking food, or at least Bucky didn’t listen to Steve’s words because he was too deep in his thoughts.
Well, he was mostly thinking about you and his mixed feelings about this interaction. As soon as you walked into the room, you had his whole attention. He couldn’t help but stare at your body, at your open legs, and at your smiley face. He knew that he sounded like a total creep and that it was inappropriate to look at other people this way, but he had never seen women dress this way. Was it normal right now? Was it new fashion trends or something? The only women that he had been interacting with for the past few years were women from Wakanda, and in the tower it was mostly Nat and Wanda, and he had never seen them dress like that. Or, at least, he just didn’t care enough to notice it.
When he saw you today, he felt something in him, and he didn’t like that feeling. It was something new, something that he had never experienced before, but his body became tense and his stomach tightened. It was weird.
“What, you're still trying to process her?” He was distracted from his thoughts by Sam, who came to the kitchen to grab a bottle of cold water from the fridge. Bucky looked at him and furrowed his brows when he saw a shitty smirk.
“What the fuck are you talking about? And why are you smiling like an idiot?” Bucky growled.
“Because you’re thinking about Y/N.” His words caught Steve’s attention, and he came closer.
“That’s why you two were staring at each other like that?” Steve said this while drying his hands with a towel. “Do you like her? I think she seems cute.”
“No, I don’t. She just looks... different.”
“Oh, the old man got excited by the beautiful woman and her short skirt.” Sam’s smile got even wider as he started teasing Bucky. “You know, I wanted to ask her out, but I can take a step back if you like her.” He leaned on the table so he could get under Bucky’s skin even more.
“I do not like her.”
“So you’re okay if I ask her out? Maybe I should go to her office right now.” Sam pretended like he was really thinking about this.
“Sam...” Steve said.
“You both are just getting on my fucking nerves.” Bucky’s chair almost fell to the floor when he angrily stood up. “Do whatever the fuck you want, I don’t care about you or her.” With these words, he stormed out of the room, and Sam started to laugh out loud.
“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” Steve shook his head like a disappointed mother whose kids always fight.
“That was fun, and maybe it’ll push him to ask her out. She’s hot, but not my type; I’m just trying to help this idiot.”
You have been working with the Avengers for over a month now. This work was literally a dream from any angle. You were making a lot of money, doing the job that you really liked, and found a lot of close friends.
Almost everyone on the team was very close to you. Natasha and Wanda were particularly your best friends. Sam was the funniest person you’ve ever met, and he always found time to tease you or to make a compliment. Bruce and Clint were like your uncles—a little bit old and annoying, but always with a piece of advice for you. A few times, you and Steve met at the gym when you came to work too early, so he was happy to train with you. Who would’ve thought that Captain America himself would teach you how to throw a punch?
The only pain in your ass was Bucky Barnes. Well, to be fair, he didn’t do anything. You’re not even sure that you heard his voice. He was always just staring. Any time that you came to the room and he was there, you either saw him from the corner of your eyes or felt his burning gaze on your back.
To this day, you had no problems with your job. You organized a few interviews for Tony and Steve, talked to the newspapers and magazines, and held some meetings, but right now, sitting on your white chair, you felt weirdly nervous.
Bucky had to come here any minute to talk about a recent accident. Apparently, he almost knocked out someone on the street. All the press and news sources were taking advantage of the situation and using loud headlines to cast a shadow on Bucky and get more views. “The Winter Soldier is back?”. “The Winter Soldier almost killed an innocent man on the street.”
It has been the biggest topic on the internet for the past few hours. Most of the people were furious and wrote too many inappropriate and rude things. So you asked FRIDAY to call Bucky so you could know the whole situation and give comments to the press as soon as possible.
You started thinking about what you should do, or, to be more honest, how to behave around Bucky, because a few days ago two red-headed women that you now considered your best friends assured you that he is in love with you and just doesn't know what to do with it.
You told them everything about his weird actions—that he always looked at you, checked your clothes, and stayed silent. Natasha and Wanda just looked at each other with smirks on their faces.
“Why are you looking at each other like that?” You arched an eyebrow and crossed your hands across your chest.
“Please, don't tell me that you don't understand his behavior.” Natasha looked at you and sipped her coffee.
Well, I wouldn’t have asked you if I knew the reason.”
“Honey, he lust likes you and thinks that you’re hot. You remember that he’s actually an old man, right? Women from his time didn’t dress like that, and you look really sexy.” Wanda’s words made Nat nod her head as you looked weirdly at both of them.
“That’s bullshit, Wanda. This can’t be true. I'm sure that he just doesn’t like me and thinks that I look too revealing. Or he just hadn’t had a girlfriend in a long time.”
“Some time ago, I came to the kitchen at like 2 a.m. just in my lingerie because I thought everyone was asleep. Barnes was sitting there with a book, and you know what? He just said “Hi” and didn’t even look at me again while I was making a sandwich. And when he sees you, he just can’t take his eyes away and stares like an idiot.”
You stayed silent, thinking about the girls' words, because everything seemed pretty reasonable.
“And what should I do?”
“I don’t know, seduce him or something.” Natasha just casually said it, and your eyebrows flew to your hairline.
“Wait, do you like him?” Wanda asked you, and Natasha huffed like it was obvious.
“I mean… he’s beautiful. I didn’t have a chance to talk to him, but Steve and Sam love him, and I trust their opinion.” You stopped trying to put together your thoughts. “To be honest, sometimes I think about the fact that he’s probably one of the hottest people I’ve ever seen. When we studied history at school, all the girls fell in love with America's Boy, and I with his best friend.”
“Then don’t wait. Just give him some hints, because I swear, for the ladies’ man, he’s too slow.” Natasha’s words made you smile. “Try to get closer to him; I don’t know, flash him with your boobs and look at the reaction. Push him a little bit. He’ll break.”
The loud knock on the door almost made you jump out of your chair.
“Come in.” You said this as you stood up and fixed your white dress and cardigan.
Bucky came probably to the lightest and most cozy room in the whole tower. A lot of white and pastel colors, comfy sofa and armchairs, and paintings on the wall. And in the middle of this was you—always perfectly looking, in heels, in a too-short dress, and with a smile on your face. He couldn't stop himself from looking at the smooth skin of your legs. It’s probably so soft...
“Em– Hi.” You awkwardly stood while his eyes were scanning your body. He didn’t answer; he just nodded. “So I think that we can sit there, it’s more comfortable.” You wave your hand at the sofa with a fluffy cover on it. “Do you want anything? Tea, coffee, water, soda?” Bucky just shook his head while he was trying to comfortably sit with a frown on his face.
You deeply inhaled while trying to be a professional. You didn’t know what was wrong with this man, but his behavior started to get on your nerves.
“Bucky, we can’t work together if you keep ignoring me. You can say if you don’t like something, because I don’t want to be on bad terms with anyone.” You sat across from him and crossed your legs.
“I don’t know what I should say.” His deep voice filled the room. Bucky took a pillow that was lying near him and started playing with the fringe. “I feel weird when I’m around you, and I don’t like it. I have thoughts that I shouldn’t have.” His eyes scanned your body once again, and you wondered if he was talking about what you thought.
“Can I do something to change it?”
“No.” He deeply inhaled. “It’s my own problem, and it’s not your job to try to fix it. Anyway, why am I here?”
“I think you know why. I need to ask you about the recent incident because I have a meeting with the press in less than an hour, and I have to give them a good reason why you did that. People didn’t take all that information too well.” You saw that Bucky sadly smiled and looked you directly in the eyes, making goosebumps appear on your skin. “So, tell me what’s happened.”
“You know that whatever you say won’t change people’s opinions about me, right? No one forgave me, and they’re still looking for a chance to call me a murderer.” He tried to hide behind a smile, but you saw everything written in his eyes. Bucky hurt himself with his own words.
“I understand how you feel about this whole situation, but we should address all those rumors because things might get worse.” You leaned on your knees with your hands, and Bucky’s eyes immediately fell on your boobs.
Push him a little bit. He’ll break.
You tried to hold back a smirk.
“Fuck.” He mumbled. “ I– um– I was walking from the coffee shop to the tower. It was another busy street with hundreds of people, but I still didn’t expect someone to touch me. That man jumped on my back or something, and my instincts just worked. I threw him over myself on the ground and put a hand on his throat. Turned out he wanted to take a picture. But I panicked because there are many people who want to take revenge and who might want to do it literally any second. I’m always ready for this.” He shrugged like it was nothing, but you could hear the pain in his voice.
You felt deeply sorry for the man before you. Even if he was cold and acted weird around you, you knew that it was his way to protect himself. After everything he came through, you couldn’t blame him.
“Do you still go to the therapist?” You gently asked.
“Yes, two times a week.” Bucky nervously ran his right hand through his hair while still holding your pillow in the metal one.
“Okay, that’s good; I can work with this information.” You nodded and reached for your journal on the coffee table. “Thank you for sharing this with me, Bucky. I really appreciate it. I’ll do my best to convince people that it was not your fault, okay?”
“Thank you, Y/N.” Bucky stood up, carefully putting your pillow in its place, and left your office without another word, while you were sitting there with a smile.
Maybe the girls were right.
After that day, everything between you and Bucky became even weirder. Yes, he wasn’t totally silent now, and you’ve got a few “Hi”, but his stares felt different.
It was like you two were playing some kind of game. Since you knew that he didn’t actually hate you, you tried to do as Natasha and Wanda said—get his attention and push more. And God, you loved that game.
Almost every day you found an opportunity or excuse to see him in common rooms or in the corridors of the Tower, and you made sure that Bucky noticed you. You wore tighter clothes, walked right past him, and looked at him with a smile. You knew that it was working because a few times Bucky just suddenly left the room while he was mumbling something.
It was almost 8 p.m., but you were still working on schedule for the next week. There was some kind of charity event, and Tony required you to convince everyone to go there because more Avengers can attract more sponsors and money. As always, Bucky was the one who refused to go there. He simply sees no reason for him to be there, and he doesn’t want to be there alone because he knows that Captain America will be the biggest star, and such a social butterfly as Sam will leave him in a second.
You decided that it would be better to talk to Bucky in person, but you didn’t want to lose a chance to get his attention, so you went by yourself instead of asking FRIDAY.
You looked in the small mirror to check your makeup and hair and went straight to where you knew Bucky was spending his evening. As you walked in a dark room filled with only light from the TV, you saw Sam and Steve sitting on the couch and Bucky on the armchair near them. You quietly walk to him and just casually sit on the armrest. His eyebrows flew to his hairline, and you heard that the chewing from the boys stopped. Bucky had no choice but to put his metal arm on your lower back.
“I need you in my office. You have to talk about the next charity event. Could you please give me some of your time?” You quietly asked and lowered yourself closer to him. Bucky was just staring at you for a few seconds, but then slightly nodded.
Bucky followed you to your office, not without getting smirks from the boys,and then stood near your table with his hands in his pockets.
“Don’t you want to sit?” You said and stepped closer to him.
“No.”
“Um– okay.” You took the papers from your table and stood in front of Bucky. “So, you know that there is going to be a charity event, and I’m responsible for getting all the Avengers there, and you are one of them.”
“I’m not going, I already told Tony.” He just shrugged.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not needed there. I’m not an actual hero, people have no interest in me, especially when there will be Iron Man, Captain America, and Thor, you know? Plus, I have no interest in sitting alone the whole night.” You saw that Bucky tried to be casual about it, but he just put salt on his own wound.
“Don’t say that, Bucky. There are people who want to see you there, you have a lot of fans. You know, I’m going there too, so if you don't mind, we can–”
“What game are you playing with me?” He interrupted you. Bucky straightened his shoulders, which made him look even bigger, and started moving closer to you, putting you in a trap between him and your desk.
“W– what do you mean?” You couldn't control your body as you started to tremble a little bit from the power that this man had. As soon as you bumped into the table, his hands landed on both sides of you, and his face was right in front of yours.
“Don’t act clueless, Y/N. I see what you’re doing.” He stopped for a second, studying your face. “You know, I tried to convince myself that you do all of this by accident, but now I’m sure that you’re just playing your little game. Am I right, doll?” You two were staring at each other, and you felt almost nauseous from different emotions.
He was so fucking beautiful up close. Piercing blue eyes, pink lips, and light stubble You know why many women thought that James Barnes was charming. If he had more confidence, he would’ve been unstoppable.
Your eyes slowly shifted lower to his arms and chest as you remained silent. He was big, with well-trained muscles that were seen through the tight black t-shirt. Both arms were stretched near you, so you had a really good opportunity to look at the smooth tanned skin and beautiful dark vibranium. You felt how your lower stomach tightened just from the thought of getting those pretty hands on your body…
You were pulled out of your head by a sudden movement of Bucky’s hand, which gripped your face and pushed your lips together. He was obviously dominating in the kiss, as if he were desperate to taste you. The tip of his tongue brushed over your lips, asking for entrance, which you happily gave him. The moan came out of you when Bucky moved away and looked you in the eyes, still holding your face.
“This whole fucking time I thought that I was a creep for looking at you, but now I know that you did everything on purpose, doll.” His eyes moved between your eyes and mouth. “All these short skirts and dresses that almost showed me everything underneath it, all these innocent smiles and looks... You did it to tease me?”
“Not at first...” You mumbled. “But you were acting so weird, and girls said that you liked me and just didn’t know what to do. I wanted to find out whether it was true or not.”
“Fuck, if I knew earlier that this was your plan, I would’ve bent you over the nearest surface, baby.” Bucky moved a little closer, brushing his lips over yours. “Do you know how fucking hot and gorgeous you are? I haven’t felt that way in many, many years. Just wanna kiss you and make you mine.”
“And what’s stopping you from this, Sargent?” You asked with a smile and moved your hand to the back of his neck to gently play with the baby hairs.
“You’re gonna be my death, doll face.” He mumbled before leaning closer and kissing you again.
This time, you started to touch each other's bodies. Bucky’s warm and cold hands landed on your thighs, playing with the hem of the skirt and rubbing your soft skin after he lifted you up a little bit and helped you sit on the table, staying in between your legs. Your own hands were moving up and down his broad chest, discovering all of his muscles.
“Bucky…” You whined into the kiss when his finger brushed against the edge of your already wet panties.
“Tell me.” Bucky moved away from your swollen lips and left a path of kisses down your neck. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.” He sucked a sensitive spot under your ear, which made you moan.
“I don’t know. Just do anything, please.” You both breathed heavily. You felt like you were too hot; your lower stomach ached, and your underwear was soaking wet. Bucky was looking at you with such lust in his eyes that you wanted him to destroy you.
“Lay back.” He ordered you as one of his hands went higher under your skirt and slid your black lace panties down your legs. You didn’t miss how Bucky shoved him into the back pocket of his jeans with a smirk on his face.
You quickly followed his instructions and just threw all the papers from our table on the floor. You’ll regret it later, but now you don't care. The sudden move of Bucky's metal arm grabbed and pulled your shirt, and all the buttons scattered on the floor, making you gasp in disbelief.
“Bucky! It was expensive.”
“Sorry, I’ll buy you whatever you want, I promise. But now I need to see you all.” He growled and fell to his knees before you. “Fuck, doll, such a pretty pussy. I’m gonna make a mess with her.”
Bucky’s hands grabbed both of your legs and threw them over his shoulders. He dragged your skirt higher, not wanting to take it off of you. His head fell on your right legs as he left a few kisses on your sensitive skin.
“Bucky please! Don’t tease me!” You desperately whined.
“I need a moment to appreciate both of you. I haven’t done it since the 40's, you know that?”
You wanted to say something, but his mouth on your most delicate part of your body left you speechless and made you grab his hair. Bucky’s tongue was gentle at first, just to get a taste of you and tease you a little bit. His tongue started to play with your clit, circling it and applying different pressures to find out what made your body twitch. It looked like he was enjoying it too; you felt deep grunts escaping his mouth as he was trying to catch every drop that came out of you.
Your loud moans filled the room as Bucky found the perfect place and made motions that made you see stars. A hand in his hair tightened even more when you felt one of his fingers at your entrance.
“M-hm, so wet and tight for me.” He pulled away a little bit, looking at how his two fingers came in and out of you, all shiny with your juices. His darkened eyes were firmly glued to your pussy, which was trying to get more, and his mouth opened a little bit at the sight. “Taking my fingers like a good girl.” Bucky attacked you with his mouth again. This time he was licking your folds, mixing his saliva with your juices. When the feeling of his nose touching your bundle of nerves came through your whole body, you gripped Bucky’s dark locks even harder, particularly trying to ride his face, and he had to put his metal hand on your hips so you wouldn’t move.
Your body tensed when he curled his fingers right on your g-spot, sucking your clit like a hungry man.
“Bucky—fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m gonna cum, please don’t stop!” You whined with tears running down your face.
A few more movements of his magical mouth, and you fell over the edge. Your legs tightened around his head, tingles went all over your body, and the loudest moan mixed with Bucky’s name came out of you as you were riding on the wave of your orgasm.
Bucky didn’t stop, though.
He made sure to lick every drop that came out of you, to the point that you had to beg him to stop because you were too sensitive.
“That was—“ You were trying to catch a breath. “That was the best orgasm I've ever had, oh my god. If you did it for the first time in like seventy years, I can’t imagine what you can do with practice.”
Bucky dragged you up by your neck, so you would be at the same level with him. His hand moved your hips closer to the edge of the table, and you felt how hard he was through those jeans.
“I can practice whenever you’ll allow me, doll.” He put his warm hand on your face to kiss you. The taste of your own release on his tongue made you moan.
“Need you inside of me, please.” Your hands automatically started to pull up his shirt, but he stopped you.
“We don’t have to take it off if you don’t want to.”
You were silent for a few seconds. “Why wouldn’t I want to take your shirt off?”
“You know, my arm and scars...”
“Do you really think that I care about it?” You left a few kisses on his cheek. “I think that your arm is hot, by the way, and I want to feel your skin on mine, Sarge.” It was enough for Bucky to pull off his shirt and stay before you half-naked.
Your hands moved to trace every muscle, every birthmark, and every scar on his chest, and you felt that this moment was so intimate, especially because of Bucky’s stare. He looked at you with such adoration and softness that you wanted to melt.
“You’re amazing, you know that?” He mumbled and kissed you with even more passion.
Bucky ripped off the rest of your shirt and quickly took off your matching black bra, gripping your breasts with both hands and taking your left nipple in his hot mouth.
You dug nails into Bucky’s back as he was sucking and licking your nipples, leaving them wet in the cold air. It felt good. So fucking good—his mouth was truly amazing. But the emptiness inside of you was almost painful, and you were clenching around nothing.
“Bucky! Sarge, please, I need you.” You almost cried and dragged his head by the hair back to your mouth.
“Baby, baby, wait– “ His hot breath was touching your lips, but he stopped your hands, which were unbuckling his belt. “Baby, I don’t have a condom. Fuck, do you have one?”
“We don’t have to use it... I’m on the pill. And I’m clean.” Your legs wrapped tighter around Bucky’s waist and put him closer to your naked core. He swore that he could feel your heat through his jeans and boxers.
“Fuck, I love twenty-first century... I’m clean too, can’t even catch a disease with this serum shit.”
His words were like a green light to you. You didn’t want to wait even a second more. So you just took off his pants with such speed and impatience that it made Bucky chuckle. With the last movement, all of his clothes were on the floor, and you sat on your table, frozen because of the sight before you.
Bucky’s thick and perfectly long dick was the best fucking thing that you’ve ever seen. Pink and a little bit curled to his abdomen. Your mouth watered just thinking about tasting it. Or how well he’ll stretch you out. You didn’t even notice how your mouth opened a little bit, and you unconsciously wrapped your hand around him.
“You’re gonna destroy me, Bucky.” You mumbled, to which you heard only a deep chuckle. Your eyes moved back to Bucky’s smiley face.
“I hope so.”
Two different hands landed on your thighs again, spreading and lifting them up. You both looked down at where his cock almost touched your bare folds, and the first contact made you moan loudly. Bucky took the base of his cock, giving himself a few pumps, and moved the tip up and down your pussy, moving easily because of the mixture of your juices.
You grabbed his forearm and whined at the action.
“Ready, doll?” He was trying to be tough and strong, but you saw how he nervously licked his lips, the tremble of his flesh hand, and the tension in his abdomen. But you still vigorously nodded.
It was different from everything you’ve ever experienced. He was big but tried to be as gentle as possible, not wanting to hurt you. He only pushed a few inches, but you already wanted to cry from all the feelings inside of you. Pain mixed with extreme pleasure.
Bucky was trying so hard to control his motions and go slow, but God, it wasn’t easy. From the first touch of his cock, it felt like he had gone to heaven. He knew that sex was good, he remembers it, but the feeling of you and your warm body that so gracefully greeted him inside made him feral. Bucky felt such a need to kiss you that it was almost painful, especially when your swollen lips were a few inches away from his.
He leaned in closer to your lips, but it made him slip deeper into you, which made you both loudly moan into each other's mouths.
“Fuck– doll, you’re so warm and tight, oh my god.” Bucky mumbled as the grip on your hips became harder. It’ll probably leave bruises, but you didn’t care.
The feeling of him inside of you was overwhelming. He was so deep and stretched you just the way that you wanted, and you almost cried from pleasure.
“Please, Bucky, please move!”
His hips slightly moved once, and it felt like his mood instantly changed. You were suddenly pushed back on your table, and your legs, still in heels, were thrown on Bucky’s shoulders. His metal hand stayed on your thigh, and the other one fell on your stomach to push your skirt higher on your waist.
“All dressed up for me, baby.” He started slowly moving, burying his cock deep inside, and then leaving only the tip to tease you. “You know how long I wanted to do that, huh? Bend you over and just fuck the shit out of you until you can’t say anything except for my name.”
“Bucky– Sarge, please go faster. Just fuck me, do whatever you want.” You were desperate, yes. But you couldn't help but beg, because you really needed him to keep his promise and fuck the shit out of you.
You reached for his hand on your stomach and interlaced your fingers together.
“If you keep calling me that, I won’t last too long, doll.” His thrusts became harder and faster as your body moved up and down on your table.
Bucky was looking at your drunk-looking face with a slightly open mouth because you couldn’t keep your moans quiet. Your hair was deshiveled, your skin glimmered with sweat, and it was the hottest thing he had ever seen.
“So beautiful, baby.” Bucky murmured, fucking you harder. The room was filled with loud noises from slapping skin and moans. “You love it when I talk to you like that, huh? Want me to tell you what a good girl you are?” His words definitely did something to you, and you unconsciously tightened around him. “Almost choking my cock, baby, fu-u-ck.”
“Mhm, Sargent, I’m so full of you.” You couldn’t see straight as the tip of his head pressed at the perfect spot with every thrust, it was too much and not enough at the same time.
The wet kisses on the inner side of your thigh sent shivers down your whole body when Bucky started to suck tender skin. His rough movement didn’t stop for a moment, and you knew that your orgasm was getting closer. The warm feeling in your belly slowly became bigger. It was hard for you to cum from sex, but Bucky did it so fast and without even touching your clit.
“C’mon, doll face. I feel ‘ya. Feel how your perfect little pussy is squeezing me. Cum with me, baby, cum on my cock.” His movements were still rough and confident, but you felt the slightest change in the way he was looking at you, how his body trembled a little bit, and the prettiest quiet noises escaped his mouth as Bucky was coming to his own end.
You were completely lost in your pleasure, with strong arms on your body and Bucky’s hard cock that was completely destroying you, so when fingers on your clit started to move in circles, your body slightly jolted up from your table.
“Bucky, Bucky, please—ohmygod, I’m coming!” You cried out loud and grabbed the hard wood under your arms.
“O-oh, fuck, doll, cum with me, please. Yes, squeeze my cock harder, make a mess. ‘M gonna cum.” With the last few pushes of his dick inside of you and movements of the fingers, you both fell from your heights, and the room filled with loud moans of pleasure. The feeling of his hot seed on your walls almost made you faint.
Bucky fell down on your body as your leg slipped from his shoulder. Two strong arms wrapped around you, and Bucky’s face nuzzled into your neck. You don’t know how long you two stayed silent, trying to catch a breath, while your hands gently rubbed Bucky’s back.
When he finally lifted himself up with a metal arm near your face on the table, the look in his eyes sent millions of butterflies to your stomach.
“I don’t even know what to say…” He chuckled and cupped your face with his right hand. “You look so fucking beautiful, Y/N.”
“Even when my makeup, my hair, and my clothes are completely destroyed?” You playfully arched an eyebrow and enjoyed the feeling of his fingers on your hot skin.
“Well, I did it, and I’m satisfied with it. You still look so hot, especially with my dick still inside of you.”
“Bucky!”
“Sorry, sorry. But I’m serious, though. Will you let me take you on a date? Maybe yesterday for lunch or for dinner after work?” His eyes had this little bit of doubt, and you couldn’t stop your wide smile because he was really thinking that you would say “no” after that.
“I will be glad to go out with you, Buck.” You dragged his face closer and gave him the sweetest kiss you could.
Bucky moved away, gently slipping out of you, and you hissed at the empty feeling. He helped you stand up on your shaking legs and handed you your clothes.
“Fuck, you completely destroyed my clothes.” You said as you were standing in front of the mirror. “How will I go home?”
“You can stay in my room.” Bucky came closer to you and helped you make your blouse look more presentable, even without buttons.
“Really?”
“Of course, doll. Just hold your shirt in case we bump into someone in the corridor, but I think everyone is already in their rooms.” Bucky finished dressing up, and you saw your underwear sticking out of his pocket.
“Don’t you want to give me my panties?”
“Na-ah, you’ll have to walk with me dripping out of you.” He gave you a cocky smile and turned all the lights off before wrapping his arm around you and leading you into the hall.
It was completely empty, but the second that you stepped out of the elevator, you saw Bucky’s best friends looking at you. All of you were looking at each other for a few seconds before Sam started hysterically laughing.
“You owe me fifty bucks, idiot!” He said to Steve, who was as red as a tomato. “Good job, Buckaroo, but I really thought that we were gonna ask her on a date first.”
“Fuck off, Willson.” Bucky growled, protectively stepping forward to protect you from their looks.
“Okay, okay, relax, no one’s touching your girl.” He said with a cocky smile on his face. “Let’s go, Steve. You’re too innocent to look at things like this.” Sam took his friend and led him in another direction.
“Asshole.” Bucky growled.
“Everything is okay, Buck, let’s go.” You stepped closer to his room, but he was still standing in his place. “I have to take a shower. Will you come with me, or will you stand here the whole night?” You smirked.
It was everything he needed to finally get closer to you, scoop you into his arms, and carry you into his room to the sound of laughter, which soon turned into moans.
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M!Reader : .....
M!Reader : Gwen excuse my words but
[Reveal Y/N and Gwen on top of a tall building]
M!Reader : ARE YOU CRAZY!
Gwen : What? Sounds fun!
M!Reader : Gwen you want me to be carried by you while you Swing from buildings to buildings! How is that not crazy!
Gwen : Spidey sense remember?
Gwen : Also I have enchanted strength y'know? Holding you is basically like holding a couple of grapes ^v^
M!Reader : .....
[Y/N's breath in and breath out]
M!Reader : fine.... But if I somehow fall down I'm not giving you my action figure!
Gwen : Bet!
20 MINUTES LATER
Gwen : Woah! was that fun or what!
[Y/N still being carried by her with his arms wrapped around her neck]
M!Reader : .....
M!Reader : Okay that was actually fun-
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my love if i may request a whiskey with dbf!joel or dbf!bucky with the prompt “i’ve wanted this for so long” and mayhaps if it’s not too much to ask for but some breeding kink👀👉🏻👈🏻
Promises, Promises.
warnings - smut. cursing.
I figured I'd make this dbf!bucky, because i've done a dbf!joel fic for this celebration already. y'all, I read the words dad's best friend and go fucking feral. this one got away from me.
3k celebration post here. 3k masterlist here.
You're the last person Bucky expected to be at his front door at 3am.
"What's wrong, honey?"
"Locked myself out of my goddamn house, and my parents are still on vacation. Can I crash here tonight? Please?"
Who is he to turn down an offer that tempting?
"Course. Come on, it's too cold for you to be stood out here."
The two of you sit down on his couch, settling in to watch some TV.
"Bucky Barnes. Are you watching a romcom?"
He blushes, a slight flush creeping up his cheeks.
"If you tell anyone, I'll kill you. They're my guilty pleasure."
"It makes me like you more, if anything," you grin. He can't help but smile back at you, less embarrassed now.
"Look, my love life is fuckin' terrible. I live vicariously through these cheesy films right now."
"You? Terrible love life? Those two phrases don't usually go in the same sentence."
You're teasing him. Seeing if you can get a rise, hit the right button.
"Oh, shut it. Just because you're on a new date every week."
"I'm... what?"
"Your Dad seems to think you're dating a lot."
You quirk a brow at him, amusement curling at the corners of your lips.
"Is that so?"
"I'm only telling you what I've heard, honey."
He crosses his arms across his chest, biceps threatening to break free from the confines of his t shirt.
"He's wrong."
"Is that so?"
You roll your eyes.
"I have a friend, he's a guy. My Dad automatically assumes we're dating because we hang out. But we're not."
"And why not?"
"I don't know, I guess he's just..." you debate your answer, realising it's now or never. "He's not old enough for me. Not mature enough."
Bucky bites his lip, eyes scanning your face.
"He's your age."
"Exactly. Boys my age don't know shit."
He laughs, but it's dark and low, something brewing beneath the surface.
"You always were too smart for your own good, huh?"
Bucky's thigh is pressing into yours, the warmth from his skin seeping through. His rough fingertips glide across your arm, slow and soft. He's testing the waters.
"I shouldn't want this," he murmurs, barely audible. "Neither should you."
"But I do," you whisper. "So fucking bad."
"Me too."
Bucky grabs the back of your neck, smashing his lips to yours. You grip at his hair, his biceps, his shirt - anything you can get a hold of. You feel like you're dreaming, your filthiest thoughts coming into fruition.
He pulls you into his lap so you're straddling his hips, grinding down and panting into his mouth. You're both breathless, but neither of you want to be the first to pull away.
Bucky rips your shirt over your head, instantly attacking your chest with kisses. He's marking you up, claiming you as his. You should be worried about the repercussions, but you're not.
You pull his shirt off and rake your nails down his front, grinning when he shivers. Suddenly, Bucky stands up, setting you on your feet.
"Strip."
You blink at him, processing.
"Strip, baby. I won't tell you again."
You shimmy your pants down your legs, your underwear going too. Your mouth waters as you watch him undress, admiring the angles and smooth ridges of him. A Greek God.
Bucky stalks over to you and hooks a foot behind your ankle, sending you both flying onto the rug on the floor. He cushions your fall, not letting go of you once. Running two fingers through your wet heat, he groans.
"All for me, pretty girl? What did I do to deserve somethin' this sweet, huh?"
"Need you," you whine. "Please, Buck."
"I've wanted this for so long," he murmurs, lining himself up. "Fuck, you're a dream."
You both gasp as he slides home, your back arching and his jaw falling slack. Bucky rests a hand against the base of your throat, the weight grounding you back down to Earth.
"Need you to move," you choke out. "Fuck, I need it, Buck. Please."
"Oh you need it, do you?" he smirks. "My needy girl."
He snaps his hips into yours in long, careful glides, very aware of the effect he has on you. Before long, his restraint snaps, and his thrusts get harder, quicker, more frantic.
"Gonna fill you up, baby," he's muttering under his breath. "Make you mine. You want that? To have everyone know who you belong to?"
You're nodding rapidly, tears gathering in your eyes, bottom lip caught between your teeth.
"How are we gonna keep this a secret if you're pregnant, huh?"
The thought makes you moan, a breathy, gutteral sound.
"You like that? Want me to make you a mommy? Fuck, I'll give you everything you ask for. I'll buy you a house and knock you up, you'll never want for anything."
His low, honeyed words throw you over the edge, squeezing and clenching around him. Bucky groans, deep and rumbled, the sound vibrating through the both of you. You find your releases together, panting and out of breath.
"House first."
"Huh?" he breathes, raising his head from your chest.
"Buy me a house first. Kids second. Maybe marriage in between."
He laughs, floating and content. You both know he meant what he said, not just a heat of the moment confession.
You stay wrapped up in each other for hours, on the rug in front of the fire.
You'll deal with the repercussions later.
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metal arm brrr
Summary: Every problem needs a solution. Bucky just isn't the biggest fan of yours.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word Count: 1k
Tags: Fluff in the highest degree, old married couple, Swearing (It's Bucky, duh)
A/N: I just needed to give you guys something, it's been too long since i've written on here and you guys are the best :) I've barely checked this over so I apologize for any typos.
*****
“Can you stop moving, please?”
Bucky Barnes half asleep is not someone you want to mess with. The first time you shuffled he had hardly made a sound, the second you were met with a low grumble (a warning you knew well) and the third strike, he was thirty seconds from kicking you out of the bed.
When Bucky had finally learnt to sleep in a bed again, mostly thanks to you, he steadily became a big fan of his beauty sleep and god help anyone who ended up disturbing him. He had a lot to catch up on. Once, you had violently shaken him awake because his phone was ringing and when he heard Sam on the other line, you were deemed a ‘sleep thief’ for a week and a half after. Bucky Barnes was a bitch when it came to his sleep.
You usually wouldn't have any complaints about being in his vice grip but it was January and the nights were still cold and having a boyfriend with a metal arm meant that you were held to him with an ice cold grip around your waist. When the Summer came, it was a life saver, your own personal refrigerator but you still had a good few months to go before you were hanging off his arm everyday.
“Sorry.” You mumbled and tried to convince yourself you were comfortable without another word.
Nope, can’t do it. You shift again.
“You’re kidding- what is it?” He pulls away from you and sits up on his elbow, glaring, he dares you. “Go on.”
With the most innocent doe eyes you could muster you slip your bottom lip between your teeth and debate the argument you could spark when your gaze slips to his vibranium arm in the semi darkness.
He doesn’t miss a thing, you’ve come to realize.
“I swear if you say-”
“-It’s cold! I’m cold! It’s just too much cold!” You burst, arms flailing in desperation.
“It’s my arm! You said you wanted to sleep on my left, this is my left arm, nothing I can do. Okay?”
“There has to be something.” You search the room for solutions, briefly lingering on the sock drawer.
“Oh yeah, sorry, let me just take it off.” Bucky grunts, dripping with sarcasm.
“...If you could?”
“Seriously, fuck you.”
Bucky falls back into his beloved pillow, eyes shut and wishing he has chosen a partner that let him sleep peacefully, then again, why would he want that when you exist?
“Look, either come to the other side or deal with it.”
Silence finally reaches your bedroom and Bucky is deeply in dreamland while you lie awake, scheming away.
In the early hours, you slip out of bed without a sound and make a beeline for the sock drawer, knowing you had some old pairs of slipper socks stuffed at the back. Scissors in hand, you snipped off the toes and smiled at the D.I.Y leg warmers. Oh, he was gonna be mad.
With nearly medical precision, you held out the slumbering Bucky’s arm in front of you and one by one, slid the fluffy socks up the freezing metal until it was sufficiently covered. Thanking the universe, he was a pretty heavy sleeper, you shuffled back under the covers and happily wrapped the soft arm back around your waist.
You slept like a lamb after that.
*****
When the morning came, you woke up before him like usual and briefly left him to his own devices as you made coffee, two mugs sitting on the counter beside each other.
Through the wall, you faintly hear the rising of the soldier before heavy footsteps quickly storm in your direction.
“The fuck is this?”
You look up to see him in the doorway, and find yourself the subject of a stare that would send millions running. Not you. The multicolored socks lined up his arm kind of softened his hoped effect and you had to stifle your laughter.
“A solution?” You shrug.
“No.” He points at you with his flesh arm accusingly “Nu-uh. This? This is not how we solve things.”
“Is it not? I’m really digging the rainbow on you.” The giggle you had tried to push down had spilled over.
“You’re a fucking menace.”
The giggle now a full bodied laugh that had you clutching at your chest as you were overcome with the image of your big, scary, ‘world’s most deadly assassin’ boyfriend glaring daggers at you while donning the most fluffy and most colorful socks up his arm.
Bucky was fighting a grin with all his might, your laughter was like an ugly disease, incredibly contagious, hard to avoid, and annoying.
Something soft hits you in the face and you halt your hysterics as you peer at the slipper sock now at your feet. Lifting your gaze, Bucky is smiling smugly, and working a second sock off his arm.
“Bucky!” You yelp and duck under the counter as the rainbow sock flies in slow motion over your head.
You probably shouldn’t poke the bear but-
“Y’know, for the best shot the United States army had ever seen you sure do miss a lot.” You taunt from your hiding spot.
When there's no response, you make a break for the couch and get shot squarely in the forehead.
“Say that again.” He dares with narrowed eyes.
“Okay, truce. Truce!” You raise your hands in surrender.
“Say sorry for last night.” The pink ball of fluff in his hands, a deadly fate, and you’re consigned to concede
“I apologize for last night.” You sigh, approaching him with caution “Now, it’s been ten whole minutes and you still haven’t subjected me to your obscene morning breath.”
He beckons you with his head and you happily plod over, throwing your arms around his neck. The kiss is sweet, and full of promised mornings to come.
It’s welcomed by you. Until you feel the coldest thing known to man, his left arm, writhing under your shirt and sending immediate shivers down your back.
“Bucky!” You screech and his strong laughter descends on your morning with malice.
Desperately wiggling out of his hold, you escape to the bedroom and yell from your stronghold:
“That was an act of war James Buchanan Barnes!”
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