#marvel reader insert

[writerslittlelibrary]

Don't worry about a thing

masterlist

summary: your parents needed the extra money, even if it meant making you work for it. what happens when two women disagree with your parents methods?

pairing: dark!Wandanat x teen reader, dark!Yelena x teen reader, dark!Melina x teen reader, dark!Bucky x teen reader, dark!Alexei x teen reader

warnings: alcoholism, dark Wandanat, dark themes, kidnapping, it’s kinda fluff as well

genre: angst, fluff

words: 2690

a/n: this kinda turned from dark!wandanat to a very soft fic. I mean, reader still gets kidnapped, but Wandanat are so sweet about it… :)

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

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You had been working in the cafe for a while. Your parents needed the money, and to be honest, you needed it too. 

Your parents had been drinking since you were a young child, and you now you were a teenager, which means it is legal for you to work. Your parents didn’t hesitate to push you towards a job. With all their money going to alcohol, they needed your money for either food, or more drinks. 

On the side, you would save a little bit of money, trying to save enough to hopefully one day go to college.

Today it was a day like any other. 

You had just gotten back from school, and you went to the cafe immediately. However, this time was a little different. For the last couple of weeks, you had the weird feeling that someone was watching you. There had been a few people that asked about a lot of details from you, which creeped you out a bit.

At first, it was a red-headed woman. She looked to be around her thirties, and she was very kind. 

Then, there was a brown haired woman. She asked how you were doing, whether you were still in school, and also how you would be getting home. She seemed concerned for your safety. After all, it had been late that day.

Then, a blonde haired woman had walked in. She went into the cafe with a dog, and after ordering for herself and her dog, she offered to walk you home. You had told her that you were fine, and that your father was picking you up, but as usual, he hadn’t showed up. The woman insisted on walking you home, and you had allowed her. What was the harm, right? She was very kind and respectful, and her dog was nice.

After that, you had a week of boring people, as usual. People who didn’t give a single shit about your life. People that only cared about the fact that they had been waiting on their coffee for five whole minutes.

You figured you had just been imagining things, and that the three women you had met where just genuinely kind. 

However, after that week ended, weirdly invasive people started to come into the cafe again.

At first it was a man. He was wearing gloves, and he looked a little scary. His hair was brown, and he was tall and looked strong. However, when he ordered you decided he was actually very sweet. He talked with you the entire night, thanking you when you served him his drinks and food, and he tipped very well. 

A week later, this week, you spotted the red haired woman from a few weeks ago sitting at one of the tables. 

She wasn’t alone this time. The brown haired woman, who you had seen earlier as well, was sitting beside her. You walked up to them with a smile, pushing your odd feelings down and getting ready to serve them just like any other day.

The women smiled at you, and after giving you their order, they continued a conversation of their own.

You brushed your anxiety off of yourself, making their drinks and continuing with your shift. However, after serving them and getting back to another costumer, the man you had seen earlier walked in. He looked a little angry, but smiled kindly when he met your eyes. You smiled back, but before you could ask for his order, he went to sit down with the other two women. 

Again, you didn’t think much off it, rather just pushing the anxiety away and continuing with your job.

It started to get really weird, though, when the blonde haired woman walked in. She was accompanied by her fluffy dog, which didn’t hesitate to greet you with a wagging tail. You bent down to pet him, when you noticed a slightly red streak running along his fur. 

You went to brush your hand over it, but the dog retreated back to it’s owner.

She smiled at you and stopped at the bar, ordering the same thing she ordered a few weeks ago. After doing so, she went to sit down with the other man and women. Why did they know each other? Had it been a coincidence that you had all seen them before? Were they watching you?

You shook the thoughts from your head, preparing the woman’s order, putting some whipped cream into a cup for her dog, before bringing it over to the table. 

You put it down with a smile, grabbing the empty two cups and asking if you could get them anything else.

“We’re alright, sweetheart,” the brown haired woman spoke with a gentle smile.

You nodded and retreated back to the counter, ready to serve other costumers, before you realised, there were no other costumers.

The entire cafe was empty, minus the four people sitting in the corner.

Odd, this was usually such a busy time. 

You didn’t think much off it, rather deciding to start cleaning up a bit in the hopes of getting home earlier tonight. When you were about to shut off the coffee machine you heard the little bell ring, indicating that another costumer had walked in.

You turned to look at them, discovering that it was a tall, large man. He had tattoos covering his arms, and a long beard. He was followed by a woman, who smiled at you before she pulled the man over to the table where the other people were sitting. You hadn’t seen them before, but you did find it odd. 

When your colleague told you she was heading home for the night, you agreed to closing up, telling her to get home safe. 

After she left, you glance over at the table impatiently. They had been sitting there for hours, and you wanted to get home on time tonight. You still had a few tests to study for, and there was a project you were supposed to hand in yesterday.

You stood impatiently at the counter until the blonde woman walked up to you. You had hoped she wanted to pay, but instead she simply asked for a donut. 

You hid your annoyance and got her what she wanted, smiling at her when you handed the sweet treat over. 

“How are you getting home today?” she asked as she took the donut from you, taking a bite. 

“My father was supposed to pick me up, but I suppose I’ll be walking once again,” you replied, closing the treat cabinet. 

“I can give you a ride if you’d like. My parents are probably leaving with my sister anyway, so there will be a car left that I’ll have to drive,” she explained, giving her dog a few pets when it excitedly walked over to her. She snuck the dog some pieces of the donut while praising her for being such a good girl.

“That’s very kind, but I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you replied, not wanting to get into a strangers car.

“Don’t be silly. It’s no problem, I promise. A young girl like you shouldn’t be out on the street alone at this time. It’s dangerous, someone could hurt you,” the woman reasoned, and you thought for a moment before agreeing. 

It did seem dangerous to walk home alone in the dark, and this woman was very kind. There was no way that she would hurt you. 

“If you’re certain that it won’t be a problem…” you said, and you watched the woman shake her head.

“Of course not. Besides, Fanny would love the extra cuddles,” the woman explained, giving her dog, Fanny, a few scratches behind her ears. 

You turned around, missing the sign the woman gave to the other people at the table. They got up, walking towards the door. The red headed woman stayed behind, telling the others she would be there soon. 

She walked over to the counter, giving Fanny a few pets before pulling out her wallet. 

“I’d like to pay for the whole table, please,” she told you as she grabbed her card. You nodded and typed in the amount on the device.

After paying, she thanked you and walked out of the cafe.

“I’m Yelena, by the way,” the blonde woman said as she waited for you to close everything up. “I’m y/n,” you told her, locking the register and walking out from behind the bar.

“This way,” she said as she led the way out of the cafe, waiting for you to lock the door before opening the door of her car. 

You were about to get in before Fanny jumped into the car before you, settling in the middle of the couch chair. Yelena drove a truck, so it was easy to fit three people on the chair. You got in after Fanny, sitting beside her and petting her head when she laid her head on your lap.

Yelena got into the drivers seat, closing the door and starting the car.

“Here, you must be thirsty after working for so long,” she said as she handed you a bottle of water. 

“Thank you,” you thanked her as you opened it, taking a few sips.

“Who was your sister?” you asked Yelena after a little while. She turned to you with a smile, rubbing Fanny’s fur.

“The red head, Natasha. She’s my sister. The big guy, with the long beard, that’s my dad, and the woman with dark brown hair is my mom,” Yelena explained, focusing back on the road. “The cafe you work at is close to our work space, so we come there a lot, but we’ve never been there together.”  

“What kind of work do you do?” you asked her curiously.

“We take care of business. Make sure people pay… taxes… that sort of stuff,” Yelena explained, although she weirdly paused before mentioning taxes. You nodded, focusing on the world outside.

After a few minutes of silence, you started to get a bit dizzy, grabbing onto the dashboard to steady yourself as black spots took over your vision. 

“Everything alright?” Yelena asked, concern lacing her voice.

“Just a little dizzy…” you explained, taking a few deep breaths in the hopes of clearing your vision.

“That happens sometimes after doing a lot during the day, especially for girls your age. You should drink a bit more water and take a few deep breaths. It’ll pass,” Yelena told you, and you nodded as you gulped the leftover water in the waterbottle down.

You sat back, taking a few deep breaths and looking out the window, suddenly noticing the road you were at didn’t look familiar. 

“This isn’t my street…?” you asked Yelena, who merely shrugged.

“There is construction that way, so I figured we’d avoid it,” she reasoned, turning on her turn signal and steering into another unfamiliar road. 

You were about to protest, but the spots in your vision took over nearly everything, and you suddenly felt to dizzy to talk. You tried to say something, but you couldn’t even remember what happened after as you lost consciousness completely. 

------------------------------------------------------------- 

You groaned slightly when you woke up, the sun blinding your vision as you covered your eyes with your hands. You turned around in the bed, pulling the covers a little higher a closing you eyes again, fully prepared to go back to sleep.

Suddenly, you sat up in a fright, looking around the room and taking in you surroundings. You never got home lat night. 

You don’t remember anything past the points of being dizzy. 

You threw the covers away, standing up from the bed, ignoring the slight dizziness as you walked over to the window. As soon as you pulled the curtains open, all you could see was snow. What the actual fuck. It never snowed where you were from.

You ran towards the door, surprised when it opened immediately. 

You looked out into the hallway, making sure it was clear before you made your way downstairs. You could hear chatter coming from what you assumed was the living room, and so you tried to go around it, heading towards the front door, or atleast, what looked like the front door.

You almost thought you weren’t spotted, until you heard a voice coming from the living room.

“If you’re going outside, don’t forget your boots and jacket. Winters are very cold around here.” 

You stopped dead in your tracks, frozen in place as the voice spoke so casual. If she knew you were leaving, why didn’t she try to stop you? You hesitated a moment, unsure of what to do as you looked at the rack of shoes. Your shoes were there, together with a vast variety of boots.

“If you’re hungry, there is also some breakfast,” the voice spoke again, and you took a deep breath before deciding to follow it.

You walked into the living room, seeing all five people sitting on a few couches. 

The red headed woman, Natasha, was sitting at the edge of the couch with the brown haired woman beside her. Natasha was scrolling on her phone while the other woman was reading a book. 

After they noticed you arrived in the living room, the woman put her book away.

“Where am I?” you asked quietly, glancing over at Yelena who was watching something on the tv. You couldn’t understand the language, and you figured it must’ve been something slavic. 

“You’re home,” the woman smiled softly, getting up from the couch and reaching for your hand.

“We figured we’d let you sleep in, so I put some breakfast in the fridge for you,” she explained as she led you towards the kitchen, letting go of your hand and opening the fridge, pulling out a plate of waffles. 

You went to sit down at the barstool, leaning on the kitchen island, debating on what to say next. 

“Who are you…?” you asked hesitantly, afraid to upset her.

“My name is, Wanda, but you may call me mom, and Natasha is mama,” Wanda stated simply, squirting some whipped cream on the waffles before topping them off with some fresh fruit.

“... What…?”

“I understand that it may be a bit confusing, but I promise you you will be happy here. We will make sure you will never have to worry about anything another day in your life,” Wanda explained, smiling as she put the plate of food in front of you. 

“What about my parents?” you asked, and Wanda just smiled.

“You don’t have to worry about them hurting you ever again, I promise.” 

You nodded slightly, staring at the plate of waffles. 

“So you kidnapped me?” 

Wanda chuckled a bit, sitting down across from you and pouting you a glass of your favourite juice. “I guess you could call it that, although that is not our intention. We love you, and we’ll show that to you,” she explained, putting the glass of juice down in front of you. 

You hesitated before you felt your belly rumble in hunger, staring at the plate of waffles for only a second longer before you dug in, enjoying the amazing tasty treat. 

“Why me?” you asked after taking a breath, taking a sip from your juice and staring at Wanda. 

“You are special. You might not understand it, but you are special, and we love you. You are perfect,” Wanda explained, smiling as Natasha joined you in the kitchen. 

“Don’t worry about it too much, malysh. You will love it here, and you will have everything you could dream off,” she said, giving you a kiss on your forehead. She reached over to the cabinet, grabbing a glass and filling it with some juice as well. 

“If you want, I can take you outside later, or you could explore the house a little if that’s what you prefer,” Natasha suggested, and you nodded.

“Okay,” you simply said, taking another bite of your waffles.

You were confused beyond comprehension, yet for some reason, you felt safe. You knew you were safe, and for the first time in your life, you felt content. 

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[whirlybirbs]

BEYOND THE VOID — !

1. THE BEGINNING OF THE END.

( MASTERPOST   |   AO3  |    SPOTIFY ) summary: torn from time yet again, it's thursday. six months pass. while you grapple with a newfound uncanny ability to premeditate, loki grapples with the fact he's slipping back into his old self without you. enter brad wolfe. now playing:  a whole lots gonna change by weyes blood word count: 3.3k pairing: loki / f!reader, established in from the void, with love tags: enemies to friends to lovers, soulmates, we-are-in-love-in-the-future but how did that even happen, angst & comfort, redemption arc, lots of time travel, loki season 2 (2020) spoilers a/n: finally, they return in "beyond the void". i can't thank everyone enough for the unending enthusiasm for this little project of mine. it's fitting to have the first chapter release with an eclipse. this is for all of you :) the beautiful gif for this chapter is from this set by @tomshiddles.

"Okay."

"Okay."

There's a long stretch of silence between Darcy Lewis and Jane Foster. 

In the liminal stretch of the apartment building's hall, there's little sound except the loud drone of some horribly, desperately sad song beyond the door of Unit 1131. The two women share a long look with one another, and then Darcy gestures urgently to the door.

"Go ahead," she nudges her colleague. 

"What?" Jane asks in a harsh whisper, "No, you knock." 

"You were the one that said we needed to do an intervention—" Darcy argues back in an equally low tone.

"Oh, so now this is on me?" Jane fires back, "She's our friend—"

"Our friend who has been babbling nonsense about things that have not happened and has been seriously obsessing with that Low-key dude—" Darcy rushes out, bringing her face closer to Jane's, "I don't even know what we're walking into here!"

Jane inhales. She pinches her brow. With a long rub of her face, she exhales. Then, she knocks.

She gives Darcy a 'happy?' look before stepping back and crossing her arms.

Almost immediately, the music stops. There's the sound of a shuffle. A meow. And then, the door opens only wide enough that one exhausted eye can peak through the chained gap.

"Heeeeeeeeeey, girl!" Darcy chides, waggling her hands in the air, "Surprise!"

On the other side of the door, your heart clenches. 

It feels a little bit like a cruel joke, y'know?

All that wishing, begging, clawing to go home and — well... you are. You're home. You've been home. For six months, you've been home in New York City. You're back in that little studio apartment, with Sigurd, with your research, with your doctorate. 

ALL I WANT  TO DO IS  GO HOME.

You try your best to give both Darcy and Jane a smile, but it comes out mangled and exhausted and not quite right. You've been crying. Sort of par for the course these days.

"Oh, uh... Hi guys."

Sigurd meows.

"You got a sec?" Jane asks, raising a folder in her hands, "We, uh... Erik gave us some new anomaly data to look over and we figured... you're the one for the job! Y'know? It's... kinda... your thing... have you been crying?"

Your eyes dart between them both. You wet your lips.

"No. Nooo, no. It's..." your mouth hangs open as you search for a reason, "...Allergies."

There's a beat of embarrassing silence, and then Darcy moves fast as lightning. She wriggles her arm through the gap and unlocks the chain — almost as if this is definitely something she's mastered before — before pushing her way through the doorway of your apartment. Jane follows close behind, and Sigard squawks as he scurries away from underfoot. 

The infiltration is almost immediately regretted because... woah. 

Like, big woah.

Darcy has seen crazy. Like, she has an Uncle on her Dad's side who is totally in on the whole "they're coming for our thoughts" thing and does not leave the house without at least six layers of Great Value tinfoil stuffed under his baseball cap. She knows crazy. She works for Erik Selvig. 

But this?

This is, like, soooooo above her pay grade. 

Jane's jaw is slack. The folder is immediately forgotten on the kitchen island in favor of the wall-to-wall documentation of... whatever the hell this was. 

LOKI MISSING? in the center of it all, with string and equations and runes and news articles and tabloid pages. There's an alarming amount of photos of the God in question pinned up beside ramblings on... Time? And... Quantum mechanics...? 

There's another loooooong stretch of silence. And then, Darcy and Jane both turn slowly to look at you pressed against the door.

You swallow.

Your face is set in horror.

"It's not what it looks like—"

"Uh, dude, it totally is what it looks like—" Darcy starts, stepping closer to the board and pointing a black, manicured finger at a paparazzi photo of Loki being carted off from the now-Avengers Tower, "What's with all the Loki paraphernalia?! Need I post a lil' throwback Thursday to when he tried to kill us all?"

IT'S THURSDAY AGAIN.

You wince. "You wouldn't understand—"

Then, it happens.

The same thing you've experienced dozens upon dozens of times these last six months happens again: A rush of chatter in your mind, a cacophony of whispers that claw at your thoughts and flood them with has-beens and will-be's. A million things all at once, a little bit of everything from all of time, and then— one thread. One thread that stands out against them all. 

"Jane, don't."

Across the room, Jane's fingers pause on the contact number for that pretty S.H.I.E.L.D. agent they've met once or twice now — the one who is managing the Asgardian anomaly cases. With Loki missing, S.H.I.E.L.D. has been desperate to track him down. If this is a lead... If you know where he is...

Jane's face freezes.

Her brows knit.

Your face is split in panic. "I know you think calling Agent Hill is the right thing to do, but—"

"...How did you know I was...?" Jane's voice falls off, her eyes searching your face.

Your voice splinters as you step forward. "If you call Agent Hill, she is going to section our entire division within the week. Thor will be exiled from Earth on conspiracy four days later. We will sit in a cell for five years until they decide we have nothing to do with Loki's disappearance from Asgard."

Darcy's eyes bounce between you and Jane.

"Why are you saying all that like you know it's going to happen?" Jane asks slowly, putting her phone down and closing the gap between you. "Doc, what's going on?"

Your eyes flicker with fear. 

And then exhaustion. The walls you've built to keep this away from the others crumble with one worried look from Darcy, and you crumple against the kitchen counter. 

Your voice is far away.

"It all started that Thursday."

You thought it would be better now that someone knows. 

Truth be told it might be more trouble than it's worth if not to soothe the burden of secrecy — because Darcy keeps treating you like a Magic 8 Ball that, when shaken, is going to spit out readings on the future. 

It isn't that easy. I mean, if it was, you would have definitely done everything in your power to avoid the commute traffic this morning. 

You don't know why it happens. Or how. You have a theory it has something to do with Alioth, but... without any sort of control, there's no way of knowing. All you know is that in those moments, you're presented with a weave of potential sequences. And in those moments, you can choose to act. Or not. 

So far, acting seems to be the best course of action. 

But, yea, no. No fortune-cookie-level stuff. No crystal ball, no tarot cards. Just... weird time-whispers. And a migraine that seems to never go away. And dreams. Really vivid dreams. Dreams that happen? And dreams that don't.

If it was a horoscope sort of thing, maybe you wouldn't have missed your morning bus after waiting in line at that coffee shop three blocks down. They always make your coffee a little too bitter, but the girl behind the counter is an NYU grad student you recognized from a mechanical engineering lecture you sat in on three months ago. You've got a soft spot for her. She's always nice to that guy in the baseball cap who seems unhoused. 

You hope it all works out for her in the end. 

But, Christ this coffee is bitter. 

You buzz into Stark Labs at 9:37 am, and you're setting your stuff down at R&D by 9:43 am. 

Bruce Banner looks up briefly from his work to slide you a welcoming smile. You return it gently as you settle down on your stool and reacclimate yourself to last week's work. 

Mondays, man.

Tony is, as always, later than anyone else. His entrance is followed by the usual boisterous chatter meant as a morale booster. More often than not it's a genius-level comedy routine built on absolutely torturing Dr. Banner. You opt, more often than not, to refuse to enable the bad behavior. 

Any laughter is buried deep into these readings from the Tesseract. 

And so this has been home for the last four months. 

Avengers Tower. R&D. Erik Selvig's Research Team. Theoretical Physics and Quantum Mechanics. Day in, day out.

No TVA, no TemPads, no Sylvie, no Mobius, no Capybaras. 

...No Loki.

But, plenty of whispers. 

It rocks you out of your focus, iced latte halfway to your lips as you're rooted in this little pocket of voices and threads and whisps of time. There's a thousand, then a hundred, then one. 

Your voice is soft.

"Bruce, try the equation again."

From across the room, Tony's voice dies down and Bruce's eyes rise to meet yours. He points to himself, with a questioning raise of the brows.

You nod, then continue to take a sip of your coffee.

And so Bruce does. Wordlessly. And, after a minute, he looks up with a grin.

"So it was right."

"Woulda never known if Iron Dick over here didn't shut up for one second."

Tony's grin is bigger than Bruce's as he meanders over to your lab table and throws an arm around your shoulder. He squeezes you gently. You avoid his eye contact — and in doing so, you miss the momentary grace of concern. 

(Tony has known you for a few months now. He knows you adequately enough to gauge that your triple-shot espresso should have been a sextuple. The bags beneath your eyes are dark. There's an edge there. Something jumpy. You're exhausted.)

"Now, that was mean."

"You're torturing him," you fire back lightly, non-the-wiser to his scrutiny. 

"It's called exposure therapy—" Tony croons, leaning back and thumbing through some of the notes on your desk. You allow it. 

Good. Still sharp. Still better than anyone else at what you do. 

"Exposure to workplace terrorism?" You rib back with one cocked brow, "No offense, Bruce, but I like you better not green. Okay, Tony?"

"None taken!" Dr. Banner calls lightly from across the room. He's working on the second part of that equation now. 

"Sure, sure, alright, Doc," Tony heads your words, raising both hands and stepping back, "I guess someone hates fun."

"Absolutely," you say blankly, chewing your straw; you point at him, "No laughter."

"None," Tony waggles a finger.

"Not a peep," you remark causally as you spin in your stool and snag your pen from the drawer behind you. 

"Any news on the other green guy we hate?" Bruce asks slowly, eyes bouncing between you and Stark. 

Your blood goes a little cold. Just like always. It's hard not to react — especially when that other green guy is all you think about day and night.

WHEN YOU LOSE HIM YOU WILL DO ANYTHING TO GET HIM BACK. 

You wordlessly shake your head. You shrug. Bruce turns to Stark. Tony is hunched over his bench. His words are a bit muffled by the soldering project he's turned his attention to. 

"None. According to Thor he just up and poofed. He was in the middle of atoning before the Buckingham of Asgard and... just warped on out."

So you've heard.

"Hill has been working every lead she can but... the Asgardians are a little touchy-feely on the whole 'earthlings in the domain of the Gods' thing."

"Understandable," you mutter absently.

Tony sits up. "Only time will tell."

...Indeed.

Home.

Unit 1131. 

Lonely.

It wasn't before all this... It was full to the brim with contentment. It was comfort, it was bliss. It was indulgent mornings slept beneath the covers and bright music in the kitchen. Cheap wine from the liquor shop on the corner and homemade meals. It was "I finally made it". 

Now, it's none of that.

Because he's out there — and you know that you don't belong here anymore.

You drop your bag by the door. 

Your boots follow in a trail. 

Sigurd mews expectantly, and you scoop him wordlessly into your arms as you weave through the chaos of papers and books. Your carpet is hidden beneath a layer of obsession masquerading as research.

But, there's one thing that pulls you back in each time.

It's that photo. 

The one Darcy had pointed at earlier.

Loki is being carted off from the now-Avengers Tower. He's looking back at something, and his expression is broken.

It's you.

You know he's pleading with Thor at that moment through a muzzle, desperate to call your name. He's looking at you, being whisked away by S.H.I.E.L.D. as they clear the area, and your voice is silenced by grief. 

You wish you had called out to him then — told him you'd find him again. 

Regret is a hell of a thing.

Grief, too. 

How do you mourn something you never really had? Not here, not in this timeline. 

So you stand there, in the dim lights of your apartment, staring at the photo. And you cry. Just like every night, for the last six months.

In your desk, that magical little daisy made of grass waits.

If they find Sylvie, they find you.

That's the mission.

Mobius M. Mobius thinks it's funny — back then, man if only he would have known that lil' hunch of his was right. Maybe a part of him did. And... Now? Things are different. I mean, everything is different. The TVA is different. 

Loki is different.

They say to be loved is to be changed an' all that. 

The first thing out of Loki's mouth was your name when Mobius finally saw him again — and then a word vomit of panic, induced by the death of He Who Remains and... time-slippage as OB called it. Lotsa moving parts. Lots to keep track of. But, ultimately, they're in a better spot than they were yesterday. 

1.) Loki is no longer falling through the metaphorical cracks in time. 

2.) Mobius did not get toasted alive when standing before The Loom.

3.) He never, ever, ever has to do that again.

And now!

They're in London. 

1977, huh. Zaniac. 

If they find Sylvie, they find you.

...Unless you find him first.

Loki isn't exactly thrilled. 

No, Loki knows better than to get his hopes up. Sylvie isn't here. He already told Mobius that. It's too safe. It's a damned movie premiere. There are no radiation burns, no falling stars, and no rampant gunfire. It's too quiet. 

It's a movie premiere and you're out there, somewhere, alone. You're... you're lost. He can't protect you here. He can't protect anything. You... You're all he has and you're gone. 

And he's here, wasting his damn time. 

Brad Wolfe is about to waste more of his time. 

Loki's gaze is sharp. His strides are long, and as they approach the fray, the God stands amongst the tallest of guests. He cuts a mean profile. It's times like these that Mobius remembers he is a God.

(It's times like these that Mobius can also see the ever-increasing edge in his partner-in-time. It's a little... worrisome. But understandable. I mean, rip a God's soulmate from his hands and see what happens, right?)

"So, he's an actor now?" Loki comments off-handedly, his irritation grating his heartstrings in a way that reminds him of who he was before all this. He hates it. But, he's angry. He will get you back. Without you...

Without you, he doesn't know what he'll do.

"Or he's undercover."

As they weave, Loki's brows knot in distrust. "Looks pretty real to me."

It smells like cigarettes and perfume, and the flashbulbs bite sharply into Loki's peripherals. The raven-haired trickster winces, tucking his hands into his slacks. 

On the red carpet, X-5 moves from interview to interview. Occasionally his laughter rises above the clamor. Each time, Loki's nostrils flare and he rolls his eyes. 

It's when he reaches the end of the line that Mobius moves in. 

"Will there be a Zaniac Two?" 

The look on Brad's face says enough for Mobius to know there's more going on here than just an undercover bit. Brad's laugh, as equally pained as his smile, just cements the fact. 

"Mobius! Woah!" A clap on the shoulder, a big hug. "I used to work with this guy!"

Still a show. Still a weasel trying to survive on his little slice of time. 

"We're going to need to catch up," he begins, backing up slowly, "You know, why don't we chat after the show?"

"How about now, maybe?" Mobius counters just as Brad turns on his heel and comes face to face with Loki. 

The God sneers.

"Woah. Okay, ha, whole gangs here!" he chirps, "Isn't that... great? Wow. I mean, you look — you look great, Loki."

"Why thank you, Brad."

Brad's eyes are manic, and he's searching the crowd quickly — no doubt looking for an exit. Then, they catch something. When Brad claps his hands together and pats them on both Loki and Mobius' shoulders, the two TVA agents pause.

"Everything alright?" Loki asks, head tilting in faux concern.

"Everything is great, actually, because when I was here," he begins, words quick and anxious as he tries to weave some sort of story, "I met a mutual friend!"

"Sylvie?" Mobius asks tightly.

"No, no, uh, better—"

Loki's jaw tightens. Enough of this. "We have some mutual friends back at the TVA who would like a word, as well—"

"Doc!" calls Brad after finally finding her in the sea of people, turning on his heel and calling out over his shoulder, "I got people I need you to meet!"

And just like that, it's like Loki's whole world splits wide open again.

In the fray of photographers and journalists, in the fray of drinks and the haze of smoke, there's you. You're smiling at Brad, positively beaming. You're bright as a star and Gods, there's no one in the room when you step forward with a laugh.

Your dress is green. Your hair is different.

There's a beauty mark on your left cheek. His version of you has a scar that lies there. A mistimed gift from Sylvie before their period on Lamentis. 

"Doc, these are some of my friends from work," Brad points, his hand falling along your waist in a way that makes Loki's blood boil; the ex-TVA Hunter leans close to your cheek, "They're the real deal."

You laugh into your drink, then extend your hand to Mobius. He's trying his best to hide his growing dread. "It's a pleasure."

Mobius takes it and shakes it gently. "And how do you have the pleasure of knowing our starlet, Brad?"

Damn it. He's losing Loki in real time here.

"Doc here did all the practical effects on set for Zaniac," Brad's eyes connect with Loki's — but the God is focused on only you... Her. Until Wolfe digs in with a low murmur meant to do just what it does, "She's a real wiz with her hands."

The God's face snaps. He will kill Brad, he decides. But, then this other-you moves to offer her hand and he can't help but melt. 

His fingers are trembling when he touches her skin. 

"Have we met before?" comes the soft lilt of her voice — this Variant's eyes are brown. They search Loki's face for a shred of recognition but all that's there between the two of them is raw attraction. A law of time and space unhindered by meddling hands. No matter where, no matter when, you will find one another.

Loki's mouth is dry. Your lipstick shade is a dark rogue. He thinks about that kiss back in the Void. He's stuck there, with your hand in his, when Brad bolts.

Her face contorts in confusion. She pulls away. But, Loki lingers. 

He has to... He...

He needs you back. 

Now. 

#beyond the void #from the void with love #loki x reader #loki x doc #loki x y/n #loki reader insert #loki/reader #loki/you #loki imagine #marvel imagine #marvel reader insert #loki season 2 fic #marvel fanfic

[lena-after-dark]

Pairing: Dark!Namor x Reader

Prompt: "I'll follow you to the ends of the earth. No matter where you run, I'll catch you."

Requested By: Anon

Warnings: Stalking, obsessive behavior, obsession at first sight.

You were on vacation the first time you felt him near. Of course then you didn't know what it was that haunted you through the waters.

The warm waves of the Atlantic washed all around you as you swam from the beach. You went as far as you felt safe to go, pausing to enjoy the sunshine and to sneak a peak at the marine life below. You were unsure how long you were in the water before you felt it. You knew there was a presence near you. You felt the pressure shift in the water, closing around you. Upon inspection, you saw nothing that would cause such a disturbance. But each time you stepped into the sea, you had the feeling that something was there - watching you.

That looming feeling of eyes upon you didn't let up, even after you were home. Though it was gone for a while, it came rushing back one rainy evening. It was enough to make you double check the locks on every door and window in your home. You peered outside and saw nothing. Always nothing. Except when the lightning flashed and there was a figure seemingly floating in the air. You only saw it once, and shrugged it off as your imagination.

Always when it was raining. That's when you'd feel it. That's when you'd see things. It was maddening. The figure only appeared when you were home - and when it was dark. Never when you could find proof that something was there.

Until you started receiving gifts, that was. Handcrafted jewelry and ornate shells appeared at your doorstep. And once on your windowsill - inside. That was enough to make you leave your home. And once again, the occurrences halted - for a time. Then you saw it again, not long after you'd moved. The figure floating in air. The shape of a man. You tried to capture an image, but it was gone before you could.

You had to get out of town again. This time to the mountains. The snow was a welcome distraction.

"Beautiful evening, isn't it?"

You were alone on the balcony of the lodge - sipping a hot drink and enjoying the setting sun. Something about him seemed familiar, though you didn't think you'd met him before. The glare of the sun obscured your view slightly.

"Yeah, it is. You're staying here as well?"

"Not exactly." The rich timbre of his voice was soothing. And yet something felt off. "Just visiting. It's very quiet around this lodge. You're the first person I've seen. Forgive my intrusion. I'm... Namor. May I ask your name?"

You told him your name out of compulsory politeness. He turned to face you, repeating your name with a smile. You could see him clearly now. He looked out of place - as if he were uncomfortable in the clothing he was wearing. Nothing in the style of his sweater or hat matched his earrings - and they unnerved you at the sight of them. They looked to be the same craftsmanship of the jewelry you'd been receiving. Or perhaps it was just a coincidence. You complimented them, testing the waters.

"You like them? Perhaps I'll have to get you a pair." You let out a nervous chuckle. It was time to leave. You made up a quick lie about needing to go and stood, noticing that he wasn't wearing any shoes.

"I'll see you again soon," he said as a goodbye. He sounded so charming. But there was something dark in the phrase. It was a promise. You dared a last glance at him and saw that he hadn't taken his eyes off of you. That familiar feeling was back tenfold.

Namor kept his promise. When you returned home, a pair of green earrings was waiting inside. You weren't delusional. This man - or whatever he was - was following you. Could he fly? What was he? There were so many questions, and no answers to any of them. And now that he'd appeared before you, certainly things were going to escalate. You had to leave again. You moved only when it was bright and dry as a bone outside. You were careful - leaving no trace of where you might've gone. You installed a camera, extra locks, everything you could think of.

You thought you were rid of him. Through stormy nights you didn't see or feel anything out of the ordinary. No gifts were left for you to find. No figure floating outside your window.

Apparently he just needed time to find you.

Your face to face meeting had made him bolder. You saw him again - hovering outside your window as the rain fell. This time he didn't disappear. This time he flew to the glass, placing his hand against it as he looked inside at you.

You scrambled away, trying to alert the authorities. It didn't matter if they didn't believe you. You needed to know someone was on the way to you.

Namor was inside before you could give dispatch your address. He was behind you with his hand wrapped around yours, pulling the phone from your ear and ending the call. The other was around your mouth, preventing you from yelling. He shushed you when you yelled into his hand - as if he were attempting to soothe you.

"I have to admit, I am enjoying our game of cat and mouse."

You pulled away from him, and he let you. When you faced him, a grin had spread across his lips.

"Did you like the earrings," he ended his question with something in a language you didn't understand. Most likely a term of endearment.

"Get out. Now. The cops will be here any moment." He chuckled at that, and paid the thin threat no mind.

"I think I'll keep our game going a little longer," he said as he stepped closer. You instinctively stepped back, and he continued forward until you were against a piece of furniture and couldn't retreat any further. He reached his hand out and ran his knuckles against the side of your arm. The touch sent shivers down your spine.

"I'll give you two weeks this time before I look for you again."

No matter what you said, or what questions you asked, he had no interest in elaborating. Whatever his intentions were in the end, he kept them from you. He wouldn't tell you why he was there, what he wanted from you, nothing.

“I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. No matter where you run, I’ll catch you.” 

He left through the window, flying into the darkness so quickly that he barely looked like a shadow across the sky.

Buy Me a Coffee?

#namor #namor x reader #dark!namor #dark!namor x reader #darkfic #stalking #obsession #tw: stalking #cw: stalking #kukulkan #kukulkan x reader #k'uk'ulkan #k'uk'ulkan x reader #reader insert #marvel reader insert #black panther #black panther darkfic #black panther fanficiton #black panther reader insert #marvel fanfiction #black panther 2 #black panther wakanda forever #wakanda forever

[unholyhelbig]

i would love a one shot of nat interacting w ronnie! maybe r is caught up doing a job for nat and nat has to pick ronnie up from school and domesticity w r ensues?

Title: The Carpool Lane [an Oversight Oneshot]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: You get caught up while running an errand for Natasha and aren't able to pick your daughter up from school. You ask Natasha to do it and she has to grapple with some big feelings.

[a/n: Hello! I promise you all that the last official chapter of the Oversight is going to be posted soon. It is a very heavy one so here is some fluff in the meantime! Also, I'm opening my requests again, so feel free to send some my way.]

Warnings: None that I can think of other than horrible grammar, but please let me know if I need to add any!

Check out the full Oversight universe

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven]

The air in the home office had become sticky and cloying. It often did when the sun decided to shine as strongly as it did. Natasha kept her books clean and clear of dust but often times there was only so much she could do. Large particles floated in the crossfire of a golden glow. It almost pained her to wrench the window open and disrupt the flow.

It was difficult for Natasha to keep focus when she could hear the sounds from outside and feel the soft breeze on her skin. She was often known for her dedication, for her focus and her ruthlessness. But on afternoons, she was stuck doing mountains of paperwork when she’d much rather be doing you.

Natasha often drifted into hazed memories of the whimpers that escaped you, your breathless swears interlaced with the intoxicating way you moaned her name. She liked teasing you until you begged for her, until you needed her more than you needed breath, until you arched your back and cried into the thousand thread count sheets.

Of course, her favorite thing was to bring you to the very edge with her just her delicate touch and her sultry words. You’d come undone underneath her, coated in sweat and ready to please as an orgasm rocked through- an annoying ringtone.

Natasha had shoved her phone into the bottom drawer of her desk to gain some focus. It clearly wasn’t working. Her nails scratched across the rich oak of the desks surface before she pawed around.

Yelena had set her ringtone to the loudest, most obnoxious blowhorn she could find. She claimed that Natasha was losing her touch and often couldn’t hear anything past her own thoughts. And so, what if that was the case? Natasha quite liked her thoughts lately.

“Romanoff,” She drawled, voice dripping with annoyance.

“Hi,”

It took one breathless word from you and everything else was forgotten. There was worry in that single syllable and it made Natasha’s world spin for only a second before she got her bearings. She could do this. She was in charge.

“Tell me where you are.”

“You know where I am, you sent me here yourself.” You chuckled in a low whisper. Natasha had sent you to collect rent from your usual charges. She knew your pattern and could hear the low hum of the row of washing machines behind you.

While she prided herself on her ability to train you into the perfect protector with a quick hand a vicious tongue, she wouldn’t dare change a thing about your soft spots. You had particular one for the family that rented the apartment above the Soapsuds laundry mat and ran it seamlessly.

It was nearly impossible for you to say no to the elderly woman that took up residence with her son. She’d make you tea and you’d indulge in cookies as she regaled you with her charming stories from the 40’s.

“She’s a trained killer, ma, she doesn’t have time for this!”

Natasha heard the son’s accented voice muffle it’s way through the phone. She scoffed, and switched her phone to her other ear. You must have put your palm over the receiver because you were garbled too.

“I absolutely have time for this Miss Vazquez.” You returned to your conversation, voice whispered once more. “I don’t have time for this, Nat. I don’t want to break her frail heart. Could you possibly… pick Ronnie up from school?”

Natasha had been rendered silent, which wasn’t a feat that was often achieved in a shocking manner. Usually, if a Romanoff was quiet, they were busy calculating and it was better to avoid the storm brewing behind their eyes. This wasn’t the same kind of soundlessness.

She had to pick her jaw off the floor. Veronica was your entire life, and though Natasha came in for a close second, you would do absolutely anything for that child. You’d walk through fire, and it was testament to your growing trust with Natasha, having her pick your daughter up from school.

“Nat, baby” your voice came through the phone “did I lose you? If it’s too much I can get Darcy to take a later lunch. It’s not a problem at all. I shouldn’t have asked, you’re a busy woman and-“

“I’d love to.”

“Huh?”

“I can pick her up, y/n, really.”

Her palms started to sweat, and Natasha never sweated. She stood up and started to pace the length of her office, entering and exiting the large stream of light that vented in through the window. She listened carefully as you told her word for word how to enter the car line, and what mothers to avoid entirely.

“I’ll call ahead, let them know you’re safe to pick up Ronnie. Thank you for doing this, Natty. I appreciate it.”

She smiled, biting her thumbnail. She stopped at the window and peered out at the newly installed swing set at the edge of the property. So many little things had changed in Natasha’s life over the last year. There were children’s books strewn over the tables and art supplies that Ronnie loved to draw with. This was an extra step. This was the extra step that made her fingers itch for the ring hidden in the false bottom of her desk.

“Darling! Would you like to hear about the night I had with Robert Kennedy?”

“I would love to, Miss Vazquez!” You called back, lowering your voice once more. “I love you, I’ll see you at home. Dinner is on me.”

You had hung up the phone a few moments ago but Natasha kept it against her face for a few moments as if it were an anchor. She had to pick up Ronnie. She had to pick up Ronnie. Natasha was on her feet now, searching the large living room and foyer, and even the nightstands by her bed before she grasped at her keys and sprinted out the door.

Veronia was a girl of very little words, but she was comfortable enough around Natasha to curl into her side during movie nights, little fist clenching onto the fabric of her shirt. Most of the time, she’d fall asleep before the end of the film and Natasha would stare affectionately as you scooped her up and took her to her room.

Now, Natasha sat in the parking lot of the school with blood rushing past her ears. Somehow, the gaggle of mothers that lingered by the release doors were scarier than anything she had ever faced before.

She’d been shot at least four times and had survived them all. She had pulled the trigger herself more times than she could count, but all of curious eyes landing on her sleek black car made her nearly sweat through her t-shirt.

Natasha stalled as long as she could before taking the tentative steps across the asphalt lot. There was a small patch of green grass that seemed to be overwatered if it still held its vibrant color during a late heated day.

Her sunglasses were down over her eyes and she feigned looking at her phone, though she eyed each and every parent that lingered. They were openly staring at her, and she heard a few hushed whispers, absolutely no attempt to muffle their judgements.

“Don’t pay them any mind.”

Natasha startled, not noticing the woman that had sidled up next to her. Her skin was pale, her hair a pitch-black color that must have heated her up on a day like this. She stuck her hand out and Natasha took it carefully, shaking it. “Jessica Jones.”

“Natasha Y/L/N,”

The woman was apprehensive to use her own last name. While she kept a mostly low profile, there were still some people who would clock the name as something familiar. The last thing she needed was someone targeting you, or God-forbid, Ronnie. The words fit perfectly into her mouth like a sweet candy.

“I’ve never seen you around here before, and apparently neither have the vultures with the way they’re circling.”

She couldn’t help but smile “I’m… new. My partner got a little tied up at work and asked me to pick up her daughter.”

“Ah, so you’re that Natasha.” She must have flushed awkwardly, nervously, because Jessica seemed to backtrack. “Nothing bad. There are moms like the women over there who put their entire being into making everything perfectly beige. Then there are moms like y/n and I. Imperfect.”

Natasha’s eyebrows lifted. Each woman that flocked towards the front of the glass doors, waiting excitedly for their children to spill out did have the same look about them. They all wore leggings and different colored pastel shirts. Each one had the same highlights and haircuts, and apprehensive stares.

“We’re out here a lot together, and it was pretty obvious when things started to change for her. With you around, the smile actually reaches her eyes you know?”

The statement warmed Natasha greatly and made the box in her desk weigh heavier on her mind. Of course, she didn’t want to think too much about it, but she also wanted to make sure that you were happy, something you reassured her of over and over again.

Natasha opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by the barrage of tiny feet on the sidewalks and grass. There was a sea of runny noses and crinkled papers slathered in different primary colors.

A small boy with dark ringlets of hair crashed into Jessica’s legs clumsily and she let out a large huff of air in response, scooping him up into her arms. He had the most startling blue eyes like his mother and gave Natasha a gap-toothed-goofy smile.

Natasha was searching the crowd for your daughter. It wasn’t like she would call out, that was much too vocal for her and Natasha didn’t blame the girl in the slightest. Through the sea of kids, her eyes locked on Ronnie’s and she gave her an encouraging smile and a small wave.

Veronica’s expression lit up as she dashed the few feet that was separating them. Natasha had the foresight to lean down enough to dampen the impact of her hug. It was quite the rare occasion to be embraced by her, so she savored the spring scent of her.

“Your mama got caught up at work and asked me to pick you up.” Natasha explained, leaning back on her heel, she brushed a strand of hair behind Ronnie’s ear. “What’s that?”

Natasha gently pointed to the picture that was in Veronica’s hand. Her chest welled with pride at the drawing and she would say that it was miles better than any other kid she saw run out with their artwork. Yelena had been right; Ronnie had a beautiful gift that Natasha would pour everything into for as long as she wanted to call it her craft.

This particular scene was a rendition of the large house, too big to fit within the confines of the paper. There was six figures that vaguely resembled each person Natasha knew and loved. A clear grouping had been established.

Kate was smeared in a purple color with dark locks of hair.

Yelena had been drawn next to her, hand and hand.

Clint stood close to them- but not too close- with his signature deep look.

What called to Natasha the most was how Ronnie had grouped her. There was a figure by the edge of the page that was clearly you, down to a tea, and a shorter figure right next to you that was unmistakably Ronnie. The two figures held hands; and on the other side, with her signature deep auburn hair and green eyes, stood Natasha. Her fingers were wrapped around Ronnie’s in the photo, too smudges of color that made the enforcers heart thrum harder than it ever had before.

“This is beautiful,” Natasha breathed, struggling not to let the water that built up in her eyes drip down her cheeks. That would be weird. It would freak Ronnie out. “I love it.”

“You do?” The girl asked.

“I do. In fact, it’s getting framed and hung up immediately.”

It was rare for Ronnie to speak, but it was a prize each time she did. Just like you, Natasha had begun to understand her body language and everything she said with her eyes. It was something she would grow out of, or maybe she would speak with just her art.

Either way, Natasha read her loud and clear.

It was well past ten pm by the time you had pulled yourself away from the laundry mat. You ended up eating dinner with the family despite your repeated refusal. It was some of the best food you have ever eaten and though you missed the quality time with Natasha, the vodka coating on the pasta would have you reeling for weeks.

The house was mostly dark by the time you returned, and you were careful when you let your keys drop into the dish by the door. A soft golden light streamed down the hallway, leading to the kitchen.

Natasha would often partake in a glass of red wine, a record playing softly in the background. It was her time to unwind, to do the dished from dinner and breathe out the stress of the day. Just like any office job. Sometimes she’d use the time to scrub away blood from under her nails as you waited patiently and took sparing sips from her glass despite denying wanting one of your own.

The sink wasn’t on, and the kitchen was mostly silent save for a faucet drip here and there. Natasha leaned against the counter and stared at the moonlit swing set in the yard. It was bathed in just enough pale light to make out the shapes drifting in the light breeze.

You came up behind her, snaking your arms around her waist and resting your head on her shoulder. She shivered against the coolness of your skin, but hugged you tight against her center with a comforting and raspy hum.

“Thank you for picking up Ronnie today,” you mumbled into the side of her neck, “And getting her to bed. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

Natasha turned in your arms and had a bit of a pout to her expression that you weren’t expecting. You lifted an inquisitive eyebrow at her. You wanted to kiss that frown right off her lips. You wanted to lull her into a state of content after the long day you’d had.

Almost timidly, she said “We’re a family. That’s what we do.”

God, how long you’d wanted to hear that. This time, you didn’t hesitate to close to the distance between you both. You kissed her softly; you kissed her with so much love that it left you dizzy.

You’d scared away partners before with the prospect of having a daughter. Most of the time, you wouldn’t’ even bring it up until a third date, when you were close to sure. But even then, you’d be left at the restaurant, or the bowling alley, or the movie theatre by yourself once the words left your mouth.

Nothing about your relationship with Natasha had been conventional, however, and each day she shocked you with her tenderness and care for someone she had no responsibility towards. Just letting you and Ronnie move in had been enough. Parenting her? Loving her? It felt beyond reality.

She chuckled into the kiss, running her fingers down your jaw. “I love you too, detka.”

“Mm, seriously, thank you.”

“Do you want to see something?”

You lifted your eyebrows suggestively and earned a light-hearted smack to the shoulder. She wormed her way out of your embrace and crossed the large kitchen to the fridge. When you’d first moved in, it was blank. There was a single wedding invitation tacked up with a magnet for joining the Murdock and Natchios families in matrimony, but even that had been years old.

Now there was something new.

Something that had unmistakably been crafted by Ronnie. The photo was a beautiful mix of colors and mediums and at the very corner in, in blue crayon, were two words; My Family.

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife@a-spes, @kyleeservopoulos]

#Natasha Romanoff #natasha romanov #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x you #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanov x reader #Natasha Romanov x you #Natasha Romanov x y/n #Marvel Reader Insert #Clint Barton #Kate Bishop #Yelena Belova #Katelena #yelena x kate #Black Widow #Marvel #Hawkeye #Request #mafia au

[randomshyperson]

Morning Grumpy Witch - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: The one where moody Emo!Wanda has a bad morning, but luckily, she also has a soft spot saved for her girlfriend. [Requested]

Warnings: None really, all fluff with Avengers being a family and Wanda being a simp. | Words: 1.197k

A/N-> I deviated a little from the original request and ended up writing a shared POV with Reader and Bucky Barnes my precious baby. This is pretty small and sweet as requested.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

It was common knowledge in Avengers Tower that Wanda could be a temperamental person. And so it was best to keep a distance until she regained her temper, especially after things went wrong, like failing Natasha Romanoff's same combat challenge four times in a row. Not that anyone was keeping score.

But Bucky was a recent member of the team, and well, he's trying to be a more considerate person and had no idea that while he was preparing breakfast, Wanda was falling down her ass, again and again, and having to deal with the provocative giggles of two veteran captains and a spy who seemed to take some kind of personal pride in managing to defeat a witch.

And just for this, when the team left the gymnasiums for the kitchen, he greeted them amiably and joined in the loose talk and jokes even if he didn't know exactly what the others were laughing at.

Clint - who had spent the morning reinforcing and repairing his bows - appeared in the kitchen and like the father he was, his first instinct was to ruffle the hair of an already irritated Maximoff, grinning at her grumbling protest as he leaned over to get a cup of coffee.

Bucky didn't do anything wrong. He just wanted to make conversation. The problem was the subject.

"So, Maximoff, everything went well in training? Someone needs to kick Natasha's ass one of these days. I imagine it's easier with your magical advantage." He commented, but Wanda remained silent to the countless giggles that arose from the Avengers present in the gym at the time of the training.

Natasha made an expression of false interest, which hid the teasing. "Yeah, Wanda, tell him how your magic tricks helped you fall flat on your face on the tatami four times?"

The table exploded into giggles, Wanda grunted in irritation and embarrassment, before standing at once with a small breakfast plate in hand. Bucky swallowed dryly when she offered him only an angry glance of red irises before turning away to the kitchen counter.

He leaned a little in Nat's direction. "Was it that bad?" He whispered, and the widow laughed before clarifying:

"She has potential, but she relies too much on magic tricks. She can't get past the first wave of challenges, because she can't charm a training hologram." Nat explains.

The table falls into a brief conversation, and Bucky steals a glance at where Wanda is sitting - and shattering a loaf of bread with more force than necessary.

From the small living room, two figures then emerge to join the meal: the Starks of the Tower. Unlike Tony and his fancy robe, you are dressed casually, and he vaguely remembers you mentioning that you had a meeting at SWORD later.

It is Tony who greets the team first- You follow him, smiling briefly before your gaze circles the room. 

"Where's my little witch...?" You ask distractedly, almost sighing when you see the crestfallen figure in the kitchen. 

"Careful." He warns naturally. "She's kind of moody today."

You chuckle through your nose, turning away without missing an opportunity to steal a sweet bagel from Tony's hand, and ignoring his protest to catch up with your girlfriend at the counter.

Well, Bucky assumes you are a couple at least. He has never asked about it, but it is in the way you look and behave around each other. 

And it's definitely in how you come up behind Wanda, hugging her and completely breaking her pouting expression with kisses all over her neck and face.

The team only pays attention to the display of affection when Wanda breaks into a giggle a minute later, the sound muffled between kisses that you steal from her.

Clint has a fond smile as he comments to the rest of the staff:

"It's nice that they get along so well." 

The Avengers hum in agreement. Natasha is swiping cream cheese on a cracker when she comments to Steve:

"Let's invite Y/N to watch the afternoon practice." She says turning her face to the two figures on the counter. Wanda's stool has been spun by your hands, and despite being all over her, you both have your attention on the table at the mention of your name. Natasha gives a little smile. "It's just that Wanda fights better when she wants to impress her girlfriend. Isn't that right, Maximoff?"

All Nat gets is a raised middle finger that makes the team laugh. You chuckle at the interaction too but lean your face to hide against Wanda's neck, your arms closing around her body and hugging her properly. Wanda ignores the team to hold you back.

"I like this." She whispers, arms tightening and making you hum in agreement against her skin. Still, the position is not ideal because of the height difference between your standing figure and her sitting. Wanda sighs in your ear. "Can we go back to our room? Take a shower together..."

You groan at the amazing idea, kissing her neck before pulling away to look her in the eyes. "I can't, babe. Business meeting" You remind her, mimicking the pout she displays with your response. "Sorry. How about later?"

"Natasha didn't lie, I really do have practice. I like the idea of you watching, though." She replies, and you flash a small lopsided grin.

"Hmm, I also like the idea of watching you sweat..." You tease, managing to make her cheeks acquire a pink color. You kiss her softly before commenting, "It's a date then."

You are kissing her again when Clint hisses in warning, his gaze on the clock on the wall.

"You'll be late if you don't leave now, Stark." He tells you, and begrudgingly, you pull away from Wanda, stealing a few kisses before doing so completely.

"I'm going to borrow your car, Tony. The Silver Bugatti." You declare as you walk past the keychain. Your brother grimaces.

"No way! You have your own cars!" He protests but only receives vague excuses before you rush out of the kitchen - Throwing a kiss in the air to your girlfriend before leaving completely.

Tony spends the rest of the coffee complaining that no one respects their older brothers anymore. Bucky is impressed that five minutes ago, Wanda nearly bewitched him over a question, and now she was having trouble hiding the silly grin on her face.

He got up to drop some dirty mugs in the sink, and ventured, "You two are sweet together. And you seem to really like her, with your puppy dog eyes."

Wanda's expression changed on the spot, the red returning to her irises but also to her cheeks.

"Are you mocking me?" She retorted but looked so adorable at having been caught that he just chuckled, his attention on his mugs.

"I wouldn't dream of it." He merely replied, chuckling to himself as Wanda stormed out of the kitchen the next moment. Stealing a quick glance at Steve across the table, he wonders if it would be a good idea to set up a double date, maybe even invite Maria and Natasha if the widow promises not to torment the witch.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff imagines #wanda maximoff oneshots #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel reader insert #marvel imagines

[peter-parkers-left-pinky]

Y/N: Hey Natasha?

Natasha: Yeah?

Y/N: What's your favorite color of the alphabet? True or false?

Natasha:

Natasha: ...What.

#marvel #mcu #incorrect quotes #incorrect marvel quotes #incorrect mcu quotes #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha Romanoff #incorrect mcu quote #incorrect marvel cinematic universe #incorrect marvel quote #y/n insert #marvel reader insert

[marveliciousloki]

Y/N: I flirt with Loki? He's alright. I hold his hand? Man's a mess. Y/N: I make out with him? It's perfectly fine. But if I cup his cheeks and kiss his nose? He’s inconsolable. Y/N: Why does simple affection break him?

Source

#loki x reader #loki fluff #marvel imagines #marvel reader insert #incorrect loki quotes

[bucky-fricking-barnes]

Resolutions

Title: Resolutions

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Fluff, Kissing

Summary: Steve and Y/N recover from their night out for New Year’s Eve.

A/N: Happy New Year! Here’s some short fluff to kick off 2024, just in case you already need it. Thank you for supporting me all of 2023. I’m excited to see what this year brings!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

The soreness and stiffness of your muscles is the first thing you notice as you blink awake. The second is that Steve is no longer in bed. Slowly, you sit up and groan as you do. You grab the blankets from the inside and pull them with you, doing your best to stay covered by their warmth as you peer around the room and search for him.

You clear your throat, then call, “Steve?”

A moment later, he appears in your doorway, already dressed in his running gear. Steve smiles once he sees you staring blearily at him from under the covers.

“How’d you sleep?” he asks.

You sigh and snuggle back down in bed now that you know he’s okay. “Good. What time is it? Are you really going to run? We were up all night.” Yawning, you pull the blankets as far up to your chin as you can, and Steve laughs in response.

He closes the distance between himself and the bed, then sits beside your legs. You turn on your side and shift slightly towards the center of the bed to make more room for him. From under the covers, you reach out a hand, and he takes it. Steve’s fingers are warm, which more than makes up for the blankets you almost immediately miss once you stick your hand out. The room is far too cold for your liking.

“I promised Tony that I’d run with him,” he replies. “New Year’s resolutions and all that.”

You hum and close your eyes, enjoying the heat that radiates from Steve’s body and warms up your legs.

“Y/N?” he asks.

You peek open an eye.

“Are you going to fall asleep again?”

Grinning, you let go of his hand and stretch underneath the blankets, reveling in the way your muscles lengthen, then relax. After the long night of standing, walking, and dancing that you’d had the night before, it feels sublime. You let out a groan as you relax back against the mattress.

“No,” you reply. You flip onto your back, watching Steve as he bends over to adjust the laces on his shoes. “How long do you think you’ll be gone?” 

He sits back up. “Maybe an hour or so. I’m not sure how long Tony’s going to want to run.”

“Has he ever been running with you before?” you ask, tsking when Steve shakes his head. “That’ll be fun, I’m sure. He’s probably just gonna end up mad at you.”

Steve laughs and shifts so he’s facing you more than before. “That’s what I told him. You gonna be up by the time I get back?”

You grin and he laughs again, knowing that you’re likely to stay in bed as long as you can. It’s not often that you have the day off work and have no appointments or errands to run.

Leaning down, Steve presses a kiss to your cheek. You tilt your head to the side and close your eyes when he does, reveling in the sweet gesture. As he pulls away, you open your eyes again and watch as he gets up to go.

“Run fast! Faster than Tony!” you call after him, and Steve shouts something you can’t quite make out in response. It makes you smile nonetheless, and you snuggle back under the covers once more, ready to doze until he returns.

When you finally do get out of bed an hour and a half later, Steve still isn’t back from his run. You don’t worry, but you do shoot him a text that you’ll know he’ll see on his watch, no matter how fast he’s running. He’s set up a special vibration pattern for the alerts when you text or call so that he always knows when it’s you.

FRIDAY picks out an upbeat, motivation-boosting playlist when you ask, and you get ready as you sing along to some of the high-tempo songs she’s gathered from your music library. You stretch, pop a pain pill to help with your sore muscles, and pull on your comfiest house clothes before you brush your teeth and wash your face. You’re just starting to make breakfast when the front door opens and FRIDAY alerts you to Steve’s arrival.

“Hey!” you call out, leaning back from the stove so you can peer at him past the fridge.

Steve’s kicking off his shoes at the front door. He’s drenched in sweat and is moving stiffly, and you have to suppress a wince. You know that whatever effects he’s feeling from the long run, Tony’s probably feeling them tenfold.

“How’d it go?” you ask.

He looks up and meets your eyes, and this time you let yourself wince so that he can see you’ve noticed the weary look on his face.

“That bad, huh?”

“It wasn’t bad,” Steve finally answers, panting slightly. He tilts his head back, then lifts his water bottle and shakes the last few drops into his open mouth. “Just long. I didn’t stretch as much as I should’ve, either.”

“Well, you haven’t run since before Christmas. Most people probably feel the same way you do today, too,” you say.

You flip the last protein pancake you’ve made for him, then go back to chopping up the fruit. Steve pads across the living room and into the kitchen. He immediately discards his water bottle into the sink and pulls a glass from the cabinet.

“There’s juice in the fridge,” you tell him, not glancing up from your work. “Or I can make coffee, if you want.”

“I just need water,” he replies. 

Steve fills up his glass three times from the water dispenser built into the Stark Industries mega fridge. You’re thankful that Tony had it built into your apartment. Otherwise, you’d have to go grocery shopping three or four times a week just to make sure that both you and Steve are well-fed. Between his high metabolism, the extra food he needs after his long workouts, and your own meals, you’re certain that the two of you go through several hundred dollars worth of groceries a week.

“Breakfast should be done once you’re out of the shower,” you say.

You look over at Steve then, and he nods as he finishes swallowing the water and sets the empty glass down on the counter. He leaves you to go shower then, and you finish cooking as you listen to the shower start.

Steve sings while he showers. It makes you smile, just like it always does, as you set the table and open the blinds, peering out at the city. The snow from Christmas Day has almost melted, and the cleanup from last night’s festivities is almost over. You’ve lived in the city for years and it still amazes you how quickly Times Square gets cleaned up, then the streets that surround it.

“What are you looking at?”

You turn to find Steve standing in the doorway to the kitchen, drying his hair with a towel. You hadn’t heard him stop singing, nor had you heard him finish up in the shower. He must’ve been quick today.

“Just amazed at how quickly everything got cleaned up, is all,” you say, moving away from the window. “The street was a mess when we got home.”

Steve chuckles and drapes the towel over the back of one of the wooden chairs at the table. “Well, Tony did host his own party last night, in addition to the one in the Square,” he replies.

You grin, remembering how you’d snuck out of Tony’s over-the-top party to take Steve to see the ball drop. Given that it was your first New Year’s Eve together, you’d wanted it to be special, and he’d confided just before Christmas that he’d never seen the ball drop. He’d never managed to see it in person before he went into the ice, and once he was back, he’d been too overwhelmed to bother watching it on TV. You’d held his hand the whole time, and once you’d gotten to the VIP spot you’d managed to reserve after some serious name-dropping, you’d stood in front of him so he could wrap his arms around you to keep you warm.

Steve had been amazed by all the technology involved in the performances and the actual ball drop itself. He’d asked a billion questions during the show, enough that you’d spent more time explaining who Miley Cyrus was than you did actually watching her set. You didn’t mind, though. You’d answer Steve’s questions for a thousand years if it meant spending time together.

“Which one was your favorite?” you ask as you pull out your chair to sit at the table. Steve does the same.

“As much as I liked the one here, I liked the one in the Square.”

You heap pancakes onto both of your plates. Once you do, Steve starts dishing out toppings.

“Yeah?”

“I got to be closer to you.”

Heat flames in your cheeks and you mutter something about liking the same thing as you dig into your food. You know that Steve is smiling to himself as he starts to eat too—he always grins like a little boy who’s just kissed a girl for the first time whenever he successfully flusters you. It’s endearing.

The two of you eat, talking about the parties and his morning run in between bites, and Steve cleans up while you queue up the most recent episode of your show. Once the last dish is on the drying rack, he takes up his normal spot beside you on the couch. He drapes his arm behind your shoulders and stretches his legs out in front of him as you press play and set aside the remote. You pull a blanket over your laps, the massive fluffy one that Clint had bought you for Christmas.

Halfway through the episode, Steve looks over at you and asks, “What’s your New Year’s resolution?”

You glance in his direction, then scoot closer so you can cuddle against him. “I don’t know. I don’t think I really have one this year. After everything that’s happened, I guess my goal is to have a calm year, but that’s not really something I can control, you know?”

He hums in acknowledgement and shifts his arm so his hand is resting on your shoulder. His thumb rubs a steady back and forth movement as you continue to watch the show, but after a few minutes you tilt your head back to look up at him.

“Do you have one? A resolution?”

“I do,” Steve says. He looks away from the screen to meet your eyes, and he smiles a little. “Maybe it’s a little old-fashioned, though. Tony said it was, at least.”

“Oh yeah? What is it?”

“I want to spend more time with you. And when I’m with you,” he adds, “I want to be fully focused on you, not thinking about whatever mission they might send us on next or whatever’s happening halfway across the world.”

Smiling wide, you reach up with one hand to touch your fingertips over Steve’s cheek, turning his face more towards you, and then you pull him down for a kiss. His free hand moves to cradle your face as his lips move against yours. 

“That has to be the sweetest, most romantic New Year’s resolution I’ve ever heard,” you murmur.

Steve chuckles. His breath is warm as it fans across your face. “Yeah?”

“Did you practice that this morning with Tony?”

He bursts into laughter and pulls away. You’re grinning and watching him as he tries not to seem flustered by your seemingly innocuous question, and you have to force yourself to hold in your own laughter so you can pretend to be serious about it.

“I’m just saying, he’s more of a ladies man than you,” you continue, “so it only makes logical sense that you’d try to convince him to teach you some moves!”

“Teach me some moves?” Steve repeats, smiling wide. He shifts from his spot on the couch, easily moving until he’s stretched out across it and you’re on your back underneath him. The blanket falls to the floor and one of his legs is braced on top of it, because you haven’t been able to order a couch that’s wide enough for him to lay on comfortably. 

“Yeah, you know. Flirting! Did you forget what that is?”

He rolls his eyes and leans down to kiss you, but it’s sweet and cut short because you’re both smiling too much. You give in to the laughter. He rolls his eyes, though he still smiles even as you throw your head back, your whole body shaking.

Steve presses another chaste kiss to your lips when you calm down enough to breathe properly. “Do you really think I need help flirting with you?” he teases.

You shake your head and pull him down to lay on top of you, then wrap your arms around him. One hand goes to play with the hair on the back of his head while the other rubs up and down his spine, and you feel him practically melt against you a few moments later.

Smiling to yourself, you answer, “You know I don’t, lover boy.”

He falls asleep sometime during the next episode, but you don’t mind. You turn your head to watch the show as you continue to rub Steve’s back, and every once and a while you close your eyes just to soak in the moment. It’s the perfect, most peaceful start to the new year. You want to relish every second of it.

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging my work so that others can enjoy it too.

I do not consent to have my work posted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere other than my personal tumblr, Patreon, or ao3 accounts, it has been reposted without my permission.

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Forever: @aya-fay

Steve Rogers: @lipstickandvibranium​ @delicatecapnerd

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x plus size reader #steve rogers x plus size!reader #steve rogers x female!reader #steve rogers #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers reader insert #marvel #avengers #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fic #marvel reader insert #marvel fluff #avengers reader insert #avengers fanfiction #avengers fanfic #chris evans #happy new year

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

chilly

peter quill x f!reader prompt: warmth theme: fluff (tags beneath the cut)

There were so many things about being on a spaceship that you hadn’t expected, but the one that you found yourself lingering on was the silence. Not while everyone was awake – no, then the ship was filled with the noise of the crew and the music that never ended. But once they were asleep? You thought you’d hear the engines murmur under the metal floors, but no. Just silence.

“What’re you doing up?”

You started at the sound of Quill’s tired voice behind you, and you turned away from the windows to see him standing in the doorway, rubbing at one eye with the heel of his hand. He’d been on the over-night shift, monitoring the ship’s trajectory through space. Days of stubble marred his jawline, his shirt wrinkled.

“Hey,” you replied. “Who’s steering this thing?”

He smiled, jerking his head back the way he’d come. “Rocket just took over. But you do know the ship has auto-pilot, right?”

You smiled softly, tugging your coat further around yourself. “Still getting used to it.”

“So?” he asked, stepping further into the room. “Why’re you up?”

You shrugged a shoulder, turning back to face the forever expanse of darkness and stars outside. “You know, in like, every movie I’ve ever seen about space, they talk about it being cold. You think that would have prepared me for just how… goddamn freezing it is on this thing.”

Peter chuckled quietly. “You get used to it.”

There was a pause, a moment of that silence that hung between the two of you. Then, you heard his footsteps approach you slowly. You jumped slightly as you felt his hand touch your shoulder, his palm smoothing down over your arm.

“I, uh…” he cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Wh—?”

He wrapped his arms around you hesitantly, his hands tracking down your arms to join them where they were wound around your middle. You raised them in surprise, stumbling slightly as he tugged you gently back against his chest. Your hands settled on top of his arms, his skin wonderfully, surprisingly warm beneath your frigid fingers.

“…Oh.”

“Shit, you weren’t kidding about being cold…” he muttered, his hands moving to enclose yours between them. You sighed, watching his fingers curl around yours. Quill cleared his throat again after a moment, as if only now realising the intimacy of the situation. “Better?”

You nodded, leaning back into his embrace. “…I want to make a comment about you being so warm, but I just know you’re going to turn into a ‘hot’ joke.”

“It’s like you know me.”

You giggled quietly, resting your head back on his shoulder. “It really is amazing out here.”

Peter hesitated as your tone turned pensive, and you felt his hands squeeze yours, so gently you weren’t sure you hadn’t imagined it. “You’re not thinkin’ about leavin’ us already, are you?”

You paused a moment before answering. “Sometimes… I think that I should think that I should, y’know?”

“…You lost me.”

You smiled softly, relaxing further into his embrace. “No. I’m not going anywhere, Quill.”

You felt his chin rest on your hair. “Good. We’re kinda getting used to having you around.”

tags: @lovely-dreamer19 @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink @s0ftness @castieltrash1 @drakelover78 @queenoftheunderdark @bombardia @bellarkeselection @nix-rose-q @blue-chup @curcuma-yn0t @ninebluehearts

#peter quill #peter quill x reader #peter quill x ofc #peter quill x you #peter quill x original character #peter quill reader insert #peter quill fanfiction #peter quill fanfic #peter quill imagine #mine: fanfic #mcu #mcu fanfic #mcu imagine #mcu reader insert #mcu fanfiction #marvel #marvel reader insert #marvel imagine #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction

[missmonsters2]

“Can I at least shut the door before you decide to pounce on me the moment I come home,” with Wanda please?

Somewhere Around Midnight

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: The one where all that waiting has come to fruition.

Warnings: none.

Note: give ur nub a break LMAO

Count: ~1.1k

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wanda takes a deep breath as she stands at her own door. Her hands are abnormally clammy, and it's a feeling she's inclined to say she doesn't like. 

The cause of her clammy hands is that Wanda's finally decided she'll confess to you today. Even though you're dating someone, that doesn't deter Wanda from her decision. It's not like she expects anything from it anyway. She just thinks it's unfair that you're in the dark about her feelings while she's elated every time you touch her.

It's complete madness she somehow made it this far without saying anything or accidentally revealing herself, considering she lives with you, but that has to be a testament that she's God's favorite. 

With a light puff out of her mouth, Wanda unlocks the door and opens it.

"Oof—" Wanda grunts, her body swaying slightly as she catches you. Her arm automatically wraps around you, and she tries her best to not inhale deeply like a creep. But you're warm, and that has her sighing softly. 

"Can I at least shut the door before you decide to pounce on me the moment I come home?" Wanda jokes softly as she rubs your back in a soothing up-and-down motion.

"Did I scare you?" You cackle as you untangle yourself from Wanda. You look at the clock and see that it's nearing midnight. "Were you caught up on the subway? I was waiting long at the door."

Wanda quirks her brow at you. There's no way she's going to admit that she was standing at the front door for almost 15 minutes. "Serves you right for trying to scare me. But no, I just left Natasha's a little later than when I texted you I was on my way home."

You huff but give her a smile before turning around and walking into the kitchen. "Hungry?"

Wanda shakes her head, taking off her jacket and scarf. "Some tea would be nice though."

You turn on the kettle and grab Wanda's favorite mug and an apple spice teabag. 

"What did you get up to? Did you go out with Andy?" Wanda tries to not grunt in annoyance at your boyfriend's name. Some hotshot lawyer you met on the subway a couple months ago. 

It wasn't fair at all to hate him just for the simple fact he was dating you. Especially when he's been nothing but nice to Wanda, genuinely trying to extend an olive branch every time he saw her. 

Truthfully and objectively, there was nothing wrong with Andy. But Wanda can't help but be standoffish at every opportunity. You never say anything about it, so Wanda hasn't stopped. 

"Nah," you shake your head as you pour milk into your cereal, happily munching on your late-night snack. "I fell asleep for two hours, and then I wanted to watch Disney movies and Andy's not into that."

"Because he sucks," Wanda mutters as the kettle goes off, and she moves to pour hot water into the mug you've set for her.

You merely chuckle but don't comment on it as you continue to munch and crunch. 

Wanda takes a few sips that nearly burn the roof of her mouth before she sighs. She should just get this over with. These feelings were just growing, and she felt so guilty every time you hugged or cuddled her. Wanda felt like she was taking advantage of you or something. 

"Um, can we talk?" Wanda mumbles as she sets her mug down.

"Mhm," you hum with a mouthful of cereal. 

Just say it, Wanda tells herself. Just say it and get it over with.

"So," Wanda sighs. "I feel like the air between us has been weird lately..."

"Mhm..." you hum more slowly this time as you look at her, setting down your cereal. 

Wanda feels herself starting to stutter at the nervousness. Her hands are clammy again, and she has to resist wiping them on her jeans. 

"I like you," Wanda spits out and then keeps going before she loses all her nerves. "Like, in a romantic way. Like in an 'I think you're so wonderful, and I wish you were mine' kind of way. And I know you're dating Andy, which I would never try to ruin in any way, but I like you."

You merely continue to stare at Wanda, and she feels herself rambling on, but she can't stop now.

"And I just wanted to tell you because I don't think it's fair you don't know that every time you hug me, cuddle me, or hold my hand, I kind of feel like I'm going to lose my shit. I'd understand if you want to dial back on that or want me to move out."

And with that, Wanda's semi-panting from getting all those words out and her nerves making her breathless. 

Wanda watches as you blink at her two times before you slowly pick your cereal back up and start eating again.

"So, you like me?" You ask between bites.

Wanda bites her lip and nods.

"In a romantic way?"

Wanda nods.

"Like you want my sweet lady kisses?"

Wanda's face burns at your words, and she semi-scowls at you but reluctantly nods. 

"Okay," you simply say as you look down and scoop up the last bit of cereal, swirling the milk around with your spoon.

"Just okay?" Wanda frowns.

You look back up at her. "Does this mean I can break up with Andy now?"

Wanda's jaw drops at your words. "What?"

"Does this mean I can break up with Andy now?" You repeat again as if the reason was Wanda couldn't hear you. 

"Why would you break up with him?" Wanda asks in disbelief.

"Well," you hum, setting down your cereal when it becomes clear you won't get to drink the milk until you get this settled. "I was just waiting for you to finally give in to the fact you've been in love with me since we were, like, 17. I was passing time."

Absolute incredulity crosses Wanda's face.

"Why did you just say something?!" Wanda nearly yells. 

"I don't know, you're kind of stubborn. I feel like you'd just never date me just to spite me if I brought it up and you weren't ready," you shrug.

"I didn't even know you were into girls!" Wanda huffs.

"Oh, I am but I learned my lesson early on that girls figure out much faster you're just passing time with them and it becomes ugly fast." You shake your head with a shiver.

Wanda's mouth opens and closes multiple times as you finally decide you can drink the remnants of your milk. 

"Anyway, I should probably call Andy now and break-up," you say as if you're just going to the store to get milk. "Can you put on Hercules?"

Wanda expected many things from her confession. 

Fighting.

Rejection.

Acceptance but awkwardness to follow.

But this was just bold confusion. 

"Are we...are we dating?" Wanda mutters to herself but finds herself going to the couch. 

She looks at the clock and finds it's just somewhere around midnight, and only the weirdest but greatest things happen around this time. 

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #elizabeth olsen x reader #scarlet witch imagine #avengers x reader #avengers reader insert #avengers imagine #marvel x reader #marvel reader insert #modern avengers au #mm: my fics

[writerslittlelibrary]

So, I'm not a prisoner? part 2

masterlist part 1 part 2 part 3 extra

summary: you did not expect that your mission to take down the traitor, could end in such a difficult situation for you…

pairing: Natasha x Red Room teen reader

warnings: like, one swear word 

genre: fluff, angst

words: 2554

a/n: I apologise if this chapter isn’t the best. I’m in a bit of a depression slum so I’m not really motivated to do anything right now. I might come back later and fix this chapter a bit

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

 |——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

After leaving the apartment, you immediately noticed the SHIELD agents piled up outside. They must have been listening to your conversation. 

Natasha led you towards a SHIELD car, opening the door for you, allowing you to get in. She got in the drivers seat, and followed by about a dozen other SHIELD trucks, she drove towards an airport nearby. 

The Quinjet was waiting at the airport, Clint Barton apparently inside of it. 

“I know this must be very overwhelming for you,” Natasha spoke, glancing towards you before focusing on the road again. 

You stayed quiet, instead staring out the window as you watched all objects blur. 

“I promise you we are going to help you,” Natasha affirmed. You turned your head, looking at her. 

“You can’t honestly sit there and tell me you are certain they won’t lock me away the moment I set foot in there,” you stated, and Natasha looked at you, giving you a sad smile. 

“I promise you, I will do everything in my power to make sure you won’t be locked away,” Natasha started, focusing back on the road and taking a deep breath. 

“How can you be so sure?” you asked. 

“I’ll think of something. I can put you under my supervision. I can lock you in a room and make sure you can leave it with me. Anything. I will come up with anything,” Natasha assured you. You didn’t want to believe her. You didn’t believe her, yet for some reason, whether it was her tone or the way that she spoke, you couldn’t help but deep down, believe her, even just a little. 

You sighed and looked back out the window, wanting nothing but to wake up from this nightmare. 

Yet then again, if this were a nightmare, wouldn’t you just wake up in your old one?

Your mind was a mess, and you could hear all the voices in your head scream at you. You saw Madame B every time you closed your eyes, just yelling at you. Telling you what a screw-up you were. Telling you all the ways that you failed them.

You always hated Natasha Romanoff for being a traitor, but now you met her, and you couldn’t help but think that maybe you were wrong. 

And even if you weren’t, you were now officially a traitor as well. 

You wanted to make Dreykov proud. That’s what you were supposed to do, right? If you made him proud, you’d get rewarded. You were the pride jewel. He loved you, didn’t he? He cared about you. You weren’t some disposable Widow. You knew that. But, then again, he was the one that told you that. And could he really be trusted? 

You groaned slightly, rubbing your temple with your right hand and you closed your eyes. 

“Everything okay?” Natasha asked, giving you a concerned glance. 

“I’m fine,” you bit back quickly, hating to look weak. Natasha didn’t take you response as hurtful. She knew you weren’t actively trying to hurt her. She understood the way you were raised, and she’d be damned if she, or anyone else, would ever misunderstand you. 

The drive to the airport didn’t take long, and soon enough you could spot the Quinjet from the car. 

“You brought the Avengers superjet…?” you asked, and Natasha gave you a small smile as she nodded. “That’s not exactly subtle…” you told her, yet Natasha just shrugged. 

“It’s fast,” she responded, driving the car as close as she could get it to the Quinjet. Once she stopped the car, she got out, walking over to your side and opening the door for you. You didn’t acknowledge it as you got out, immediately noticing the other SHIELD trucks that were parked closely. 

Some agents stood outside their cars, their hand on their weapon as they watched you. 

You noticed a woman walking towards you, and you took a step back when you decided she was way to close. 

The woman didn’t acknowledge your defensive attitude, instead holding up a pair of handcuffs and reaching for your hands. 

You pulled your hands back, and before the woman could say anything, Natasha had noticed what was going on, stepping in front of you and stopping the woman. 

“What are you doing?” Natasha asked, despite the fact it was obvious. 

“It’s protocol,” the woman claimed, yet when she tried to step towards you again, Natasha stopped her. 

“She came willingly,” Natasha stated, but the woman just shook her head. 

You noticed neither of them were going to give up, and quite honestly you just wanted to get rid of the woman. And so, you took a step forward, holding up your hands to the woman, giving her an expecting look. 

Natasha looked a bit shocked, yet didn’t take long to place her hand on your arm. 

“You really don’t have to,” she stated, but you interrupted her. 

“It’s fine. Let’s just go,” you stated, and the woman nodded as she made quick work of handcuffing you. 

After she was finished, Natasha gently took your upper arm, leading you towards the Quinjet. Clint Barton was already waiting on board, having a small smile on his face when he spotted you two. 

“Hey kid, nice to see you turn over a new leaf,” he said, yet you just scoffed. 

He didn’t seem offended, but rather just smiled and turned the chair around, facing the control panel. 

He pressed a few buttons, and the Quinjet closed.

“Take a seat. We’ll be flying for a few hours,” Natasha announced, and you nodded as you held up the pair of handcuffs. 

A look of shock and confusion took place on Natasha’s face, before she quickly regained herself and gave you her famous smirk. 

“Damn… You’re good good,” she told you, and you gave her a small smile before you sat down on a seat. 

Natasha discarded of the handcuffs, placing them in some cupboard before taking a seat next to you. “I know you’re scared, and I know you’re not showing it, and you’ll never admit it, but I promise you, I will make sure everything is gonna be alright,” Natasha said, looking forward, not wanting to pressure you.

You would of course never let her know, but you appreciated what she said. You would indeed never admit it, but you were scared. 

You weren’t just scared of the Avengers, though. You were afraid of what Dreykov would do to you. You were afraid what he would think, and what he would say. He would be so disappointed. Natasha Romanoff was right there. The traitor is sitting right next to you. You could so very easily just kill her. Slit her throat. Her guard was down. She would never see it coming. Dreykov would be so proud. 

You weren’t sure whether you wanted to kill her, and for the first time in your life, you found yourself debating whether you should kill her or not. 

Never once in your life did you think about killing someone or not. Never once did you think about the consequences. I was always just another assignment. Another person you had to wipe from existence, and you never, ever, dared to give it a second thought.

This experience was weird for you. 

You didn’t really want to kill Natasha, but yet again, you were supposed to, so why wouldn’t you? It’s not like you really cared whether Natasha lived or died. Did you?

You simply sighed and let your head fall back against the wall behind you, closing your eyes and letting your thought run through your head. What would Dreykov say? You knew what he would say. Deep down, you knew he didn’t care. 

------------------------------------------------------------- 

After the Quinjet landed, Natasha and Clint guided you through the Avengers tower, claiming they need to take you to an office so you could speak with the director, Nick Fury.

You, of course, knew exactly where that office was, yet you decided to keep your mouth shut and just follow them. You didn’t want to make this situation worse for yourself. You knew the entire lay-out of the Avengers towers, and you were pretty certain Natasha was aware of that. 

Once you took the elevator and made it to the office, Nick Fury was sitting behind his desk, Maria Hill standing of to the side with a clip board in her hand. 

There were Shield agents standing outside the door, and you were pretty sure they were there to make sure you couldn’t try anything. 

“Take a seat,” Nick Fury simply said, and you looked at Natasha unimpressed, before you took a step forward, setting yourself down in the seat at the other side of the desk, across from Nick Fury. 

“You understand we cannot trust you, correct?” Fury stated, and you looked him in the eyes, enough for him to accept it as a yes, apparently. 

“Director Hill,” Fury then mentioned, getting up from his seat. 

Maria Hill walked towards the desk, placing her clip board on it as she sat down herself. She gave you a small smile. You didn’t return it. 

You were focused on your surroundings. Clint had left the room. Natasha was leaning against the wall next to the door. She probably didn’t want to disturb the conversation, yet she didn’t want to leave you alone. Maybe she just wanted to keep her eye on you. 

Before Fury walked away, he turned to look at you.

“Don’t fuck this up,” he stated, before walking towards the door, leaving the room. 

You turned your gaze back to Maria, who had picked up a pen, now waiting for your attention to turn back to her. Once it did, she began speaking. 

“I’m just going to ask you a few questions, and you just try and answer them to the best of you abilities,” she explained, and you nodded slightly. 

“Could you please state your full name and date of birth?” 

“Y/n, the rest I don’t know…” you replied, and Maria nodded. “Do you have any idea of how old you may be?” she asked and you nodded, giving her your assumed age. 

She wrote the information down, scratching some things out on the clipboard before turning to the next question. 

“Do you know where you were born?” she asked, and you nodded. 

“I was born in Russia, but I’m not sure whether my parents were Russian,” you explained, and Maria nodded as she wrote it all down. 

“Have you always been in Russia?” 

You shook your head, briefly telling her about certain mission you had been on that took longer than a month. 

There was that time in Seattle, when you lived with another Red Room Widow pretending to be your mother. You had gone to an actual school, and you had had actual friends. 

There was another time in the Netherlands, when you were with a Hydra agent. Something about a debt Dreykov owed to Alexander Pierce. You had been chosen for a mission with a Hydra agent. You were posing as a normal teenager, whose mother passed, which is why your father moved you all the way to the Netherlands. You enjoyed the learning the language, yet you found it one of the harder ones to master due to the many odd rules. 

Maria wrote every single detail you told her down, not missing a single thing as she made sure everything was on paper. 

After a few more questions, and many ‘I don’t know’s’ from you, Maria finally put her pen down, smiling at you gently. 

“That’s all for now,” she explained and you nodded. 

“Come on,” you heard Natasha say, and you got up, walking towards her. 

“See you later,” she told Maria before guiding you out. Were they a thing? Did Natasha see how Maria blushed? Did Natasha notice how she herself blushed? 

Whatever. 

Natasha led you towards the elevator, pressing a button, then entering a code. You learned about this. To get to the living quarters of the Avengers tower, you had to enter a code. This was to prevent any unwanted visitors in the living space of the Avengers. 

Once the elevator opened, Natasha led you out, guiding you towards a hallway. You followed her the entire way, making sure to walk at least a metre behind her. 

You weren’t allowed to walk next to your superiors, and even though you weren’t sure what you place in this tower would be, you didn’t want to take any chances. You didn’t want to stray to far from the manners you were taught. 

Natasha probably noticed, but whether she did or not, she decided not to mention it. 

Eventually, she stopped in front of a door, pushing a key in the keyhole and unlocking it. 

“This will be you room,” she smiled and pushed the door open. “My room is across from this one, and the only other people in this hallway are Wanda and Carol, but she is not often on earth,” Natasha explained, and you nodded as if you didn’t already know it.

You stepped into the bedroom, and it took you a moment to process the fact, that all that space, would be yours now. 

“Do you like it?” Natasha asked, waiting by the door. 

“It’s so… big…” you stated, slowly walking further into the room. Natasha smiled as she made her way towards another door. 

“This is the bathroom. I stocked it with some basic supplies beforehand, so you’ll probably be good for a little while, or just until we get the chance to go shopping,” Natasha stated as she closed the door again. 

“This is the closet,” she explained, walking over to the piece of furniture and opening it.

“Right now, there are just some things from me and Wanda that will probably be wearable for you, but we’ll get you some new clothes soon,” Natasha smiled, and you nodded. 

Natasha walked over to the desk, sitting down on the desk chair and looking at the ground. It seemed she had something to say, and it would be something you wouldn’t like. You took a seat on the bed, across from her, and simply waited until she spoke. 

“Now, because we do not know you, we cannot just let you roam freely around the tower. I managed to convince Fury you shouldn’t be put in a cell, but unfortunately, this door will have to be locked until further notice,” Natasha explained and you nodded. 

“He’d be stupid not to,” you replied, and Natasha nodded, giving you a small smile.

“I promise I will come check on you often, okay? And you can leave the room if you are accompanied, so I will make sure to take you on some daily walks or something, alright?” Natasha explained, and you nodded, giving her a smile in return. 

“I promise you, everything will only get better now,” Natasha told you, and you nodded as she got up, walking towards the door. 

“I’ll get you something to eat, and some entertainment,” she explained, and she left the room. 

Suddenly, you were left alone. This was your room. You made the choice. You were officially a traitor. There was no going back. You did this to yourself. You royally screwed up. Or perhaps, just maybe, you made a really good choice?...

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[whirlybirbs]

              —   BEYOND THE VOID    !

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a masterpost for the series by yours truly. it's thursday again. second part to the from the void, with love series. canon divergent, set during loki season 2 (2023). 

READ ME !  / in-progress

1.    the beginning of the end 2. (COMING SOON !)

SCROLL ME !

1. part 1: from the void, with love 2. prologue: the sacred timeline 3.   the variant timeline files 4.   the tag 5.   the god & the scientist 6.   fan art

#beyond the void #from the void with love #loki x reader #loki/reader #loki reader insert #loki x doc #loki x y/n #loki imagine #marvel reader insert #marvel fanfic #loki x you #loki season 2

[marvelsswansong]

clumsy

summary: you're extremely clumsy. Steven worries. Marc finds it amusing. Jake gets protective. But they all love you for it nonetheless.

tags: pure fluff, oneshot, boyf!Steven & Marc & Jake, gn!reader (no pronouns/descriptions in place), cute slice of life moments, some comedic humor with Khonshu, bc I am a student in London ofc I had to add in English lingo/London tingz, please do not take as accurate portrayal of DID by any means

☆ word count: 3.5K+ ☆

Steven worries for you. Endlessly. 

He knows you’re a capable adult. You’re wicked smart, hard to trick, quick to respond with a sassy comment. But you’re extremely clumsy. He still remembers how the way the two of you first met was because you tripped and nearly fell onto an exhibit piece. Having just finished his shift, Steven was exhausted but his reflexes kicked in as his left arm quickly wrapped around your waist, stopping you from hitting the floor.

Your eyes remained closed, bracing for the harsh impact of the floor, but instead all you felt was… someone’s warm arm wrapped around your waistline. 

“A-are you alright?” a soft British voice asked you, your eyes slowly opening to be met with a gorgeous curly haired man with a name tag pinned onto his shirt. Steven, it read. 

“I- yeah, thank you. I didn’t mean to fall but I was distracted.” you sheepishly added, looking away from the handsome man’s gaze. You must’ve looked like such a fool, you berated yourself. Unbeknownst to you, he was mesmerized by the way the fading sunlight was illuminating your face, your smile hesitant but pure and your voice even sweeter to hear. 

“Yes, the exhibits are truly fascinating-” he started, only to be cut off.

“I was actually looking at the guide dog.” you interrupted, pointing to the golden retriever across the room. “But these ancient exhibits are interesting too! I just wish I had a tour guide or something because reading all this printed information on four hours of sleep is really difficult.” you quickly added, making Steven chuckle. 

“I-I could show you around, if you’d like.” 

Steven had no idea where the sudden courage came from, but he didn’t want to clamber onto the tube and go back to his empty flat quite yet. He wanted to stay here, with you, listen to you ramble about the most innocuous things. He nervously fiddled with the edge of his jacket, thinking he had perhaps crossed the line, but all you did was smile even wider.

“Really? Are you sure? I mean there’s only half an hour before closing so-” 

“It’s no problem, really.” 

“Thank you, Steven.” 

“No problem….” he trailed off, waiting for you to fill your name in. 

“(Y/n).” 

“(Y/n). Nice to meet you. So if you look closely upon this carving, you’ll see that it’s a depiction of Anubis. Anubis is the protector of the dead in Egyptian mythology…” 

That had been six months ago and now you had moved into his flat, your hoodies carelessly folded over the couch and your mismatched socks stuffed precariously into his drawers. He wouldn’t have it any other way though - being able to come home to you each night and to have your face be the first thing he sees every day (more or less given that both of you had hectic schedules) made even the worst days much brighter for him. It also helped that living together meant he could keep an eye on you more: it wasn’t uncommon for you to have shown up to dates, prior to moving in, with a sprained wrist, a small bruise on your arm, a twisted ankle… All from (badly) doing regular things. 

You were just so clumsy and out of them all, Steven worried the most. He carried plasters with him everywhere, in addition to filling one of his drawers to the brim with first aid supplies (which had the additional benefit of being of use to Marc or Jake after a night out, he supposed). He would be the first to drop all his books and come rushing by your side if he heard something drop or shatter, his first priority never being about the damaged item but your wellbeing. He didn’t care that you’d shattered three mugs since moving in or that you’d nearly given yourself a concussion from tripping over a package you were too lazy to pick up. Your clumsiness never annoyed him, though it just made him worry endlessly and be on high alert whenever you decided to do something even remotely dangerous. 

“Ah, shit.” 

You were sucking on the edge of your slightly burnt thumb for less than two seconds when Steven came rushing into the room, the sound of metal hitting the floor followed by your cursing forcing him to sprint out of bed and come to your aid. His hands carefully cradled your left hand, examining it in the dim yellow light of the kitchen, whilst you rolled your eyes playfully in protest.

“Stevennnnn, the cookies!” you attempted to pull away from him but his grip was iron tight.

“You’re far more important than the sweets, love. Hold on.” 

Turning off the oven, he pulled out a pack of plasters from the top shelf, ordering for you to run your thumb under cold water in the mean time. Afterwards, he carefully dried off your finger (being ever so careful to ask you to tell him if it was hurting as he applied pressure) and bandaged it nicely with a soft kiss to your hand. The action made your heart flutter.

“Thanks, Steven.” you kissed him gently, an action which still made him blush.

“No problem, darling.” 

“... Are the cookies okay though?” you pouted, pulling away from his embrace to check inside the oven. Steven’s hands quickly landed on your shoulders, pulling you backwards in an instant. 

“Hold on, love. Let me get the cookies out, alright? Don’t want you to burn yourself again.” he lightly teased, putting on oven gloves. You sighed - admittedly, that was probably the best thing to do anyways. Steven was the one to carefully take the cookies off of the baking sheet with a spatula as you arranged them neatly into stacks into the plastic container, carefully balancing one of the cookies on top of your palm so you could feed it to Steven. He smiled, gently biting into the dessert, a pleasant hum leaving his lips.

“Any good? It’s a new recipe.” 

“It’s marvelous, love. Very sweet. Only second to you.” 

“Well it was a team effort, I’d say. I bake and… you make sure I don’t burn the flat down. Or burn myself.” you added, taking a bite of the cookie as well. “Seriously, don’t you get tired of having to treat minor injuries for me so often?” 

Steven shook his head sideways, kissing you softly again - his lips still had the remnants of coconut and chocolate, with a hint of raspberry. 

“Never.” 

---------------------------------------

Marc, on the other hand, finds your clumsiness endlessly amusing. 

He wouldn’t hesitate to pull you away from a burning pot or to help you stand up if you fell, of course. But unlike Steven who worried endlessly, waiting anxiously by your side as you cooked or cleaned, he found your daring efforts amusing and fun. Especially when he’d be able to tease you afterwards, see the adorable way in which your face would crinkle up in embarrassment, thereby giving him an excuse to kiss away the sour expression from your face. 

Juggling trying to retain whatever was ‘normal’ for Steven with a mercenary’s life and an Egyptian god constantly bothering him in the background, there was something so comforting and normal about watching you. His favorite sight in the world was whenever you’d stay up late waiting for him to get home then fall asleep on the sofa, your face smushed into the cushions, your chest rising in soft breaths as you slept. Being able to carry you back to bed, after arranging the pillows and blankets to be as comfortable as they could, before falling into the sheets with you was how he wished every day could be. 

His heart burned for you. And amongst the millions of things he loved about you, above all, it was your heart - your never ending desire to help others, your generosity, your need to always give back to others. He even saw one time that you’d scheduled various anniversaries into your phone, each day color coded and neatly organized - he pretended to have not seen the first month anniversary notification and acted surprised a week later when you pulled out a pair of tickets to a new musical. His right arm never left your waist as you clung to him afterwards, the uneven cobblestoned streets of London making walking (especially as you were drunk) ever more difficult. 

“Oh!” you suddenly stopped walking, causing Marc to almost tip over to the side at the suddenness and force with which you stopped walking. Cautious, he quickly surveyed the surroundings, expecting you to have seen something to make you nervous. “Remind me to take out the cake I have in the fridge before Marc gets home.” 

His heart was overflowing with warmth as he chuckled quietly, brushing away your hair from your face so he could better see it under the moonlight.

“Baby, I am Marc.” 

You simply hummed in response, his reply not seemingly registering in your brain for a few moments before your eyes widened in shock.

“You are! No, now I ruined the surprise.” you dramatically flailed your arms, almost falling over as you took a misstep. Marc’s reflexes were fast, quickly pulling you into his chest as a black cab rushed by. 

“Careful, angel. Almost got run over by London traffic.” 

Gently walking you towards the other side of the street, Marc was vigilant to keep you away from the side facing the open traffic all the way until the two of you reached the flat. Opening the door took several tries as you insisted on being useful and opening it yourself, but you kept on dropping the key or using the wrong key for the door. 

“Just help the little human already.” Khonshu grumbled from the background, his arms crossed and his tone unamused. But Marc didn’t care. There was something so cute about seeing you get frustrated, your eyebrows furrowing in concentration as you tried over and over again to open the door. When Marc eventually stepped in and opened it in one try, you threw your arms around him, kissing his face and calling him your hero, causing him to accidentally knock against the kitchen counter with a mug falling and shattering on the floor as a result.

“My clumsy baby. What will I ever do with you…” he commented against your lips, the pads of his thumbs drawing circles on your face.

“Perhaps you could begin by cleaning up the filth on the floor.” 

Marc was about to chastise the god when your head suddenly whipped around to the tall creature. 

“Shut it, birdie! It was a mistake.” 

“... You can see me?” the god’s voice changed from annoyance to one of surprise, clearly having underestimated your abilities to perceive beyond the mortal world.

“Yes! And you need to stop being so mean to Steven, he’s a good boy.” 

The god was baffled into silence as Marc let out a wild laugh at your antics, hugging you closer to his chest.

God, he loved you. 

The sound of the door finally unlocking snapped him out of his memories, his thoughts running wild when you finally stepped out of the bathroom, nervously pulling at the ends of the fabric whilst looking yourself over in the mirror repeatedly. He knew you were meeting with your best friend’s fiancee tonight and that you want to make ‘the best impression possible.’ His throat immediately ran dry, his eyes hungrily drinking in your figure whilst you took his silence to be a bad thing.

“Oh no, does it look bad on me? Is it too much? Should I change? I can grab-” 

A swift kiss to your lips, firm but still gentle, cut your rambling off. 

“You look perfect, baby. Now you have to leave if you want to catch your Uber on time.” 

“Right.” you smiled against his lips. Quickly fixing your hair in the mirror one last time and grabbing your bag - quickly shoving your phone inside - you raced to the front door in your socks, knocking over a pile of books that the god had been skimming through for the past few hours.

“I’m so sorry, Khonshu!” you felt horrible, knowing that he’d been skimming over the books for hours, as you dropped onto your knees and began to pick them up one by one. The god let out a displeased sigh - at this point, the god had come to oddly respect you and care for you in his own right. But even so, he couldn’t help but marvel at your clumsiness. It was unlike anything else he’d ever seen. 

Marc was quick to arrive by your side, gently coaxing you away from the pile of books.

“It’s alright, baby, you go ahead. I’ll clean this up.” 

Apologizing fervently again, you planted one last kiss on Marc’s lips before hurriedly exiting the flat, the force with which you slammed the door causing the flat to shake. Shaking his head sideways in amusement, Marc quickly went about picking up the books as the god watched from above him. 

“I sincerely do not understand how one mortal can both perceive the higher realms whilst struggling to maintain basic balance and hand-eye coordination.” 

Marc chuckled.

“It’s a mystery to me too.” 

---------------------------------------

Jake didn’t worry for you nor did he find your clumsiness amusing. 

No, seeing you trip, knock over, cut yourself accidentally or drop things made his protective side kick in, his body immediately wrapping around yours and shielding you from whatever danger was created. It was a bit much at times, causing even Marc and Steven to complain - “they’re London cyclists, Jake, they’re supposed to go a bit fast” - but Jake didn’t care. He hated to see you in pain, to see any markings or discoloration on your pretty skin, so it was primal instinct to be protective around you. 

Sometimes you’d pout when he’d seat you away from an open flame or insist on holding your hand in open streets, but he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t the best with words - like Steven - nor with spending quality time with you - like Marc - so his love for you spilled over in his actions. Jake was fiercely protective of you, unafraid to snap, push or get a little violent with people if they could ever hurt you. Or if they flirted with you.

As Jake eyed the menu of the small cafe nestled in the corner of the bookstore, your order memorized like the back of his hand, he missed your figure leaving his side as a certain book cover on the top shelf caught your eye. Having decided what to order, he returned his gaze to his side to ask you if you’d like the usual, before he realized that you were no longer next to him. His eyes quickly scanned the surroundings, seeing that you’d opted to climb up a ladder to reach a book on the top shelf in the historical fiction section.

His brain immediately flashed with numerous scenarios of what could go wrong - you’d fall off the ladder, hit your head on a sharp corner and get a concussion, get a paper cut from flipping through too quickly - and Jake was quick to abandon his place in line, only to be cut off by another man accidentally walking into you as you stepped off the ladder. Engrossed in whatever was written on the back cover of the book, you hadn’t seen the man blocking your pathway who was now apologizing to you profusely.

“I’m terribly sorry for that.” the man kept repeating his apologies, bending down to retrieve your fallen book. Jealousy coursed through Jake’s veins upon realizing that the man was objectively good looking, his brown hair well styled, his prim suit indicating that he probably held a well off, stable job. It was one of Jake’s insecurities - the fact that he (or Marc or Steven for that matter, but especially him) could not offer you a ‘normal’ life free of violence, doomsdays and existential threats. And the way you keep giggling and entertaining the man’s quips caused his stomach to twist and anger to bubble up in his chest, his fists clenching by his sides. Jake wasn’t thinking when he stormed up to where you were standing and pulled you right against him, lacing your fingers with his. 

“Mi corazón, we should leave now if we want to catch the bus in time.” his voice was sweet when speaking to you but his glare to the man was deadly, who was now shifting uncomfortably under Jake’s stare. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Oh, but Spencer was just about to tell me-” 

You weren’t able to finish your sentence nor get your book back from Spencer as Jake quickly dragged you away, leaving the brunette man confused and alone with your book. Jake was silent for a few moments, simply dragging you behind him as you hurried your pace in an effort to keep up with him amongst the busy crowds of pedestrians.

“What was that for?” you pouted. 

Jake stopped, dropping your hand before letting out a curt sigh. 

“That bastardo was flirting with you. Plus, he could’ve hurt you by knocking into you while you were stepping off a ladder.” 

The mix of jealousy and insecurity dripping from his voice caused your expression to soften, your delicate hands coming up to cup his face.

“It’s sweet of you to worry, Jake, but I’m fine, see? Also, even if he was flirting, I would never be interested in him. Not when I have the most handsome, caring and amazing boyfriends by my side.” 

His anger slowly dissipated, your lips meeting his in a gentle manner, which he was quick to turn into a full out steamy makeout session by pinning you against the brick wall of the alleyway. You laughed against his lips at his eagerness as a small smirk spreads across his lips.

“You’re mine, mi amor, aren’t you?” he growled.

“All yours, Jake... But I did really want to buy that book so you’ll have to make it up to me.” 

He kisses you again, his intoxicating mix of sandalwood and fresh leather flooding your senses.

“Of course. I’ll buy you that book. And anything else you’d ever want.” 

“Can I open my eyes now?” you whined, the blindfold placed on your eyes having meant you’d been led in complete darkness for the past ten minutes. Based on the attire you were told to wear and the soft feeling of grass and dirt underneath your feet, you had a feeling you were in a hilly area or a park, but you had no idea why you were here or what Jake had planned for date night. Jake simply chuckled in response.

“In a minute.” 

A few rustles of paper and the sound of fabric being straightened out, then he carefully took off the blindfold from your eyes, revealing the gorgeous sight in front. A hastily sprung out picnic basket laid out with white and red checkered squares, pinned to the grassy floor with a few glass candles. Two wine glasses and a bottle of wine sat in the middle. It was intimate and small, yet so beautifully done, you felt your heart squeeze in appreciation as you looked up at Jake’s face (which was uncharacteristically shy and withdrawn in this instance).

“Sorry for the... rather messy presentation. Steven and Marc helped with a few things but I’m usually not very good with these things, so-”

“It’s perfect.” you cut him off quickly, grabbing his hands and squeezing them in reassurance. “Thank you, thank you all so much. This is just… the best thing I could’ve asked for on our sixth month anniversary.” 

Jake’s shoulders quickly relaxed, a sly smirk appearing on his face.

“Oh, just wait until you see, mi vida, what we have planned for you.” 

As Jake sat down next to you, you popped open the wine bottle and began to pour him a glass, accidentally spilling some onto his pants. 

“Shit! I’m so sorry-” you quickly placed down the drinks, searching for some tissues and water to help rub out the stain. But Jake simply couldn’t care, choosing instead to admire you: the way your eyes glittered in the moonlight or the way the faint glow of the candles below carved your face in shadows.

“God, I’m just so clumsy, did we bring any tissues? Or I can run down to a nearby-” you continued to ramble, becoming silent only when Jake's hand reached out for yours, wrapping around your wrist and setting you back down on to the floor.

“It’s alright, mi amor. Just sit and enjoy this night with me, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

And as the two of you sat in silence, the object in his left pocket felt heavier than ever.

“Thank goodness the wine didn’t spill onto the ring.” Steven remarked.

“Though, that would have been very (Y/n)-esque to do.” Marc added.

And as he tore his gaze away from the night sky and onto you, all Jake could think about was how much he wanted to spend to spend the rest of his life with you. Even through all the falls, bruises, wine spills, forgotten items and cuts you’d rack up along the way.

a/n: sooo basically I haven't posted any fics since Aug of 2020. Whew. So posting this is pretty nervewracking for me. Sorry if this fic wasn't the best, I am a little rusty. Not sure if any of my older followers are reading this but if you stuck around, thank you!

As for everyone else, please let me know if you enjoyed by liking/commenting/reblogging - if the feedback is positive I may write more in this fandom :)

❤️ Drink water, nourish your body and be kind to yourself today ❤️

#steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #steven grant fluff #marc spector fluff #jake lockley fluff #moon knight #moon knight fluff #moon knight x reader #marvel reader insert #reader insert #1k #2k #3k #4k

[allaboutthebooz]

Come Over

Summary: Bucky can't seem to let go

Pairing: Bucky x reader

A/n: Oh look. I've come out of my once a year slumber to grace you with my undeserving presence and I will leave you with the tasty angst. It will be a one-shot, I'm sorry. Don't hate me too much.

"Come over." The two words that light up your phone, briefly illuminating your dark bedroom at one o'clock in the morning. You had spent the past few hours tossing and turning. You just couldn't seem to shut your brain off and apparently neither could he.

He always seemed to know when you were having a hard time sleeping. He also knew exactly what you needed. A way to relax.

The only problem was that you both agreed to not keep doing this. Things weren't easy when you were together, almost toxic really.

Constant screaming matches that would always lead to tears and clothes being tossed around the apartment. To him moving agonizingly slow inside of you. Him whispering his love and apologies in your ear while you whimpered and moved to meet his thrusts just the way he liked. Accepting the affection while it lasts, knowing it would happen again.

When things finally ended with you packing your things and leaving the spare key on the counter, you swore to never allow yourself to be caught up in his game of push and pull again.

You were devastated to leave him, but knew it was the only way things would change. He made it so difficult to stay away though. One text or call and one of you would be at the other's door.

Your friends always questioned why you kept crawling back to him and no matter how much explaining you tried to do, they just wouldn't leave it alone. You would go on the dates they would arrange for you, but you always found yourself in his bed after the guys would drop you off.

You laid in bed a few more minutes trying to decide if you should ignore him or give in the slight tug behind your navel. You had just thrown your covers off of you, when your phone began to ring. Without looking at the Caller ID, you answer.

"Hello?"

"I was worried you were actually asleep for once." His rough voice making your insides melt.

You release a slight chuckle. "No I was just debating if this was a good idea."

"It's always a good idea." You could hear the smile in his voice.

You sigh. "Is it though? We're supposed to be moving on, Buck. How am I supposed to move on when you won't let me?"

"Who says I want you to move on?"

"I don't know. The gazillion fights we've had. The constant screaming at each other. The constant tears I've shed. I can keep going. We're not good for each other."

He's quiet for a moment. You can tell he's going through the memories of you two together. "That doesn't mean we're good for anyone else."

"You don't know that, James."

"Yes, I do. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were it for me. No matter what we've gone through. You're still the one I want in my arms at the end of the day."

"The only thing we're good at together, is fucking each other and you know that's not good enough."

"That doesn't mean I want you to move on. I will never stop loving you."

You heart clenches. "Maybe you should."

He pauses. "Do you want me to?"

Your breath catches in your throat. It wasn't all bad. Aside from the sex, you two were capable of laughing and being completely in love. You remember how he would hold you close when you were out with your friends. How he would come up behind you when you were cooking and just wrap himself around you. How he would take you to your favorite meadow and you would sprawl out on a blanket, while he would just look at you as if you were the only thing that mattered to him.

How he would tuck your hair behind your ears and kiss you so gently that you felt like you would float away. How he would hum his favorite songs while he got ready for work and you laid in bed watching him. His ice blue eyes, taking in every inch of you when you would sit on the couch reading.

"No I don't." You whisper.

"Then get your ass over here and let me show you just how much I love you."

Tears prick your eyes. "I don't think I should, Bucky."

"Come on, babe." He pleads gently. "I love you so much. Things can be so different this time. I can stop hurting you."

"You say this every time. How do I know that things won't be the same?"

"You have to trust me. The only way to know is for me to prove it to you." You can hear the desperation growing inside of him.

You shake your head. "I don't know, Buck."

"Then let me come to you." He begs. "Please, Y/N."

TAG LIST: @fangirlinsweden @snackles87 @jamielea81

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #marvel reader insert #marvel series #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan reader #bucky reader insert

[honestsycrets]

This user has been stealing my work, Mio, on wattpad. Does anyone familiar with Wattpad know how I might go about getting it removed? Thank you to the user who called my attention to this. I really do hate it when this is done.

#stolen content #writer things #I filed a takedown on it but not sure if that'll work #miguel o'hara x rader #atsv imagines #atsv fic #miguel o'hara/reader #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman 2099 fanfiction #miguel o'hara fiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel reader insert #man they even took my summary #i just wanted to come back to prepare another piece for posting and got a whole anxiety response off this i want to cry

[peter-parkers-left-pinky]

Y/N: Natasha, you're testifying in an aggravated assault case tomorrow, and the D.A. is worried about how you'll present yourself on the stand.

Natasha: Why? I'm fine on the stand!

*flashback to Testimony #1*

Natasha: Look, I'll make this real simple so even these idiots can understand.

Natasha, to the jury: MAN DID CRIME.

*flashback to Testimony #2*

Natasha: I'm sorry, could you make her stop doing that weird thing with her face?

Defense Attorney, next to the crying defendant: ...Crying?

*flashback to Testimony #3*

Natasha: And when this is over, I'm gonna find you and I'm gonna break those little fingers.

Judge: Could the witness please stop threatening the stenographer?

#marvel #mcu #incorrect quotes #incorrect marvel quotes #incorrect mcu quotes #natasha romanoff x reader #y/n insert #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #marvel reader insert #incorrect mcu #marvel x reader