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dirtyvulture · 9 months

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Super J - Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Superpowered!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: The adventures of Jacob the super corgi continue.

Word count: 3253

AN: Reader has a penis, no pronouns used. Short smut scene at the end. :)

Thank you for all the support on Part 1 (read here)! And special shoutout to the 🍬 anon for brainstorming this one with me.

You had never had a dog of your own before, so you are constantly showering Jacob with affection and treats to the point that Natasha worries she’s being left out of your relationship. You take Jacob with you on your daily run, surprised at how well the stubby-legged corgi can keep up with (at one point even surging ahead after a cat and managing to drag you down three blocks).

Jacob attracts a lot of attention, even more than you do, and many people stop to ask if they can pet him or take a picture of him. One time, Natasha joins you two, but becomes infuriated when girls stop under the pretense of meeting Jacob, only to then turn and flirt with you instead. But you only have eyes for your girlfriend, with enough love to spare for your corgi too, and your life moves on without hiccup.

Kate and Yelena refuse to watch Jacob after the so-called incident on his first night at the Tower, so on the days that you can’t care for him, you usually ask Thor, Steve, or Clint to help. But eventually, Kate cannot resist the charms of your adorable little corgi and begins to warm up to him again.

She plays ball with him in the garden, laughing at the way Jacob turns into a furious black blur when he chases after the tennis ball she stabbed one of her arrows through. This allows her to launch the tennis ball at greater speeds than even you can throw and to a distance where she’s certain the corgi will become tired after two or three rounds, but he seems to have limitless energy.

Jacob comes tearing out of the bushes, the shaft of the arrow gripped in his mouth, when Kate’s cellphone begins to vibrate. She slings her bow over her shoulder to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Kate, it’s Agent Hill. Are you at the Tower?”

“Yeah, I’m in the back playing with Jacob.”

“Are you free for a mission? We’ll need you to be ready at the Quinjet in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, yes, of course. What’s up?”

Meanwhile, Jacob drops the arrow at Kate’s feet, sitting down and looking up at her expectantly, waiting for her to shoot it out for him to chase again. But Kate is completely ignoring him now, turning away and grabbing her quiver of arrows off the grass. Jacob watches as she starts running back towards the Tower, leaving him alone in the garden.

He looks at his tennis ball pierced by Kate’s arrow and picks it back up with a frustrated sigh, then trots into the Tower after her.

***********************************************************************

“Where are my Widow Bites?” Natasha groans, throwing underwear and socks across the room.

“Right here,” you respond, pointing to them sitting on her nightstand.

“Thank you,” she says, snatching them up and slipping them onto her wrists. “Are you ready?”

“Almost.” You grunt as you shove your foot into your boot, lacing it on sloppily but not having enough time to care. Maria had called while you two were busy in an intimate act, but the details of the emergency mission were enough to cause you both to untangle yourselves and dress up immediately.

“Where’s Jacob?” Natasha asks.

“I think Kate took him outside.”

“Isn’t she coming with us?”

“I’ll text Clint to watch him while we’re gone. It shouldn’t be more than a few hours.”

You grab Natasha’s hand and teleport the both of you to the roof, still barely making it on time. Kate is already there, standing outside the ramp of the Quinjet with a full quiver of arrows slung across her shoulder.

“Hi, Kate,” you greet.

“Let’s go!” Natasha snaps, having no patience for formalities. You and Kate hurry after her onto the plane, finding your places as Natasha punches in the coordinates and within seconds has the Quinjet in the air. “We’ll be there in thirty minutes. Get ready to handle business as soon as we land, we don’t have any time to waste.”

“Yes, Agent Romanoff,” Kate says, while you want to swoon at the way Natasha sounds so authoritative and demanding. But now is not the time nor the place, so you have to keep it in your pants until the mission is over.

As the three of you settle in for the flight, mentally preparing yourselves for the battlefield you’ll be depositing yourselves on, a rustling noise from the back of the Quinjet catches Kate’s attention. At first she dismisses it, thinking it is an unsecured object sliding around, but then she hears a familiar clang and gets up to investigate.

She pokes her head into the back corner of the Quinjet, seemingly finding nothing, but when she returns to her seat, she sees two brown eyes staring at her from under the row of seats in the back.

“AHHHH!” Kate screams, falling to the floor and you and Natasha turn to look at her.

Jacob the corgi bounds out of his hiding spot, dragging the arrow with the tennis ball. His stumpy tail wags happily and when he spots you and Natasha in the front, he drops his toy and runs over.

“Jacob? What are you doing here?” you ask as Jacob tries to jump into your lap.

“Kate…” Natasha growls.

“I left him in the garden!” Kate says.

“You left him?”

“No, I mean…Agent Hill called me when I was outside playing with him, so I just came back inside and…didn’t really pay attention to where he was,” Kate explains lamely.

“He must have snuck on before any of us got here,” you say, stroking the corgi behind his ears. “Maybe because he knew where we were all gonna be–”

“The dog does not understand English,” Natasha interrupts. “And now what are we supposed to do with him?”

“I’ll teleport him back to the Tower!” you say, standing and tucking Jacob under your arm like a football. He barks unhappily at the position.

“No, no, wait!” both Kate and Natasha say at the same time.

“Have you ever teleported with an animal before?” Kate asks.

“You don’t know what that could do to Jacob,” Natasha adds.

“Oh. I guess that’s true.” You look down at Jacob, who you swear is frowning at you with disappointment at the idea of threatening his life. You put him on the floor and he runs back to grab his tennis-ball-arrow-thing and bring it over. “But it’s too late for us to turn around now.”

“Kate, you’ll have to stay with him,” Natasha finally says.

“Stay? But you need me for the mission!” Kate protests.

“It’s your fault he’s here,” Natasha says. “So you’re responsible for him now.”

“But he’s your dog!”

“This is not up for discussion.”

“Fine.” Kate grumbles as she sits down in her seat. She’s already thinking of a way out of this, refusing to be left behind on a Class 1 emergency mission because of a stowaway corgi. Jacob seems to sense that he’s caused some kind of disruption, because he wiggles out of your grip and pads over to Kate, butting her leg with his nose and smiling up at her. Nobody can stay mad at that face for long, and Kate grudgingly pets him for the rest of the journey.

Natasha lands the Quinjet in an open, snowy field.

“Stay here,” she says to Kate and Jacob.

“We’ll be back soon,” you add, waiting for the ramp to lower.

“Are you sure I can’t come–”

“Yes,” both of you say in unison before disappearing out of the jet.

“Goddamn it,” Kate mutters, flopping in her seat and glaring at Jacob, who is now chewing a hole in his tennis ball. She watches him for a few minutes, torn between leaving him in the Quinjet herself and joining you two, but then her mind flashes back to her first encounter with Jacob when he grew to ten times his size and almost crushed her, Yelena, and Fanny to death. Nothing similar had happened since, and you and Natasha still didn’t believe that your dog had superpowers, but now sitting here in an enclosed space with a corgi who could activate like the Hulk, Kate realizes she might be in more danger than you and Natasha.

But she’s so busy considering all the scenarios that she doesn’t notice Jacob abandon his tennis ball, moseying over to the front of the Quinjet and pushing at the buttons on the dashboard with his nose. Suddenly, the ramp lower itself again and before Kate can figure out what’s going on, a black blur darts by her feet and leaps into the snow.

“Jacob! Get back here!” Kate shouts, running out of the plane after him.

Jacob is so short that all Kate can see of him are the black tips of his ears, but he appears and disappears in the snow, hopping around like a deer.

“Jacob!” Kate calls again, but either he can’t hear her or simply refuses to respond, bounding further and further away every second. Kate has no choice but to follow him, even more afraid of what Natasha will do to her if she finds out that she not only let her dog out in enemy territory, but left him to completely fend for himself.

Despite her longer legs, Kate is clumsy and unfamiliar with the terrain, nearly twisting her ankle multiple times as she runs after Jacob. She hears shouting and gunshots in the distance, her stomach twisting when she realizes how close you and Natasha must be, and she can’t imagine what would happen if Jacob ran into the middle of a battlefield. She does her best to keep the corgi in sight, but eventually he outpaces her and Kate doesn’t know where he is anymore.

Her heart beating in her throat, she finally considers calling you, but then she hears your voices nearby and starts running towards them until her legs are on fire.

***********************************************************************

It was an ambush.

The second you and Natasha broke out through a grouping of trees, gunfire rained down on you and the two of you took shelter behind a large rock.

“They wasted no time,” you comment, inserting a fresh magazine into your handgun and racking the slide.

“They were expecting us,” Natasha responds, peeking out and firing off a few shots of her own.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have left Bishop on the Quinjet. We could probably use her long distance help right about now,” you say, speaking as casually as if the two of you were on a dinner date and not being gunned down by dozens of trained soldiers.

“We can’t let them close in,” Natasha says. “I’ll create a distraction and you try to gain some ground on them.”

“Wait, Nat–” You try to stop her, not wanting her to put herself in danger, but it’s too late. She sprints across the clearing, taking the attention of gunfire with her. “NAT!” you shout, although she can’t hear you. Shaking your head, you steel your nerves and leave your spot of cover, shooting at every soldier whose helmet you see poking out from behind trees or around bushes. There seems to be a never-ending supply of them and you don’t even know if you’ll have enough bullets for all of them.

Natasha throws herself onto the ground, rolling behind a log as gunfire spits up rocks and twigs that cut her face and hands. She cusses to herself while checking her magazine. The pressure on her is relentless, and she doesn’t even think she’ll have a moment to fire back.

But just as she has that thought, the drumming of bullets halts and she pops up, firing away. She hears the first bang of return fire before she feels the heat lance across her side, causing her to double over, gasping for air. Instinctively, she reaches for her ribs, pulling her hand away sticky with blood.

“Nat!” you scream.

Natasha’s legs buckle under her and she falls to the ground, although luckily behind the cover of the log. You race towards her with no regard for your safety anymore.

“Nat! Nat!” you continue to yell.

“GRRRRRRRR!”

The ground shakes with a tremendous roar that causes you to drop to your stomach and curl up. From behind you, something gigantic leaps into the clearing. It’s a enormous black animal, with familiar pointed ears and white paws–

“Jacob?” You gape in absolute shock as your corgi, who is now the size of a house, attacks the soldiers with frightening intensity. Seconds later, Kate Bishop in her purple uniform, huffing and puffing with her quiver rattling on her back, arrives. “Is that Jacob?” you scream at her and she only nods, trying to catch her breath.

You turn back and crawl towards Natasha, throwing your body over hers as Jacob goes crazy, tearing the soldiers apart and kicking up sandstorms of dirt. Natasha clutches onto your shoulders tightly, hiding her face in your neck from the dust clouds. Kate finally summons the strength to help, her arrows flying around to take out the remaining soldiers with an efficiency that would make Clint proud. You stay over Natasha until the noise has died down and Kate runs over to you two.

“Are you guys okay?” she asks.

“Nat?” You shift off your girlfriend, who only groans in response, clutching her bleeding side.

“We need to get back to the Quinjet,” you say, your only concern now to get Natasha to safety.

“We’re kind of far…” Kate says unhelpfully.

“Where’s Jacob?” You’re not even phased that your corgi seems to have a superpower like yourself. Either that, or he swallowed a Pym Particle when no one was looking.

“Uh…”

Jacob barks, much deeper than you’ve heard before, and the ground shakes as he bounds over. If you were standing, you don’t think you would’ve even come up to his shoulder.

“We can…probably ride him back to the Quinjet,” Kate offers, which is probably the most sensible thing you’ve heard all day.

“Is that a bear?” Natasha says out of nowhere, sitting up and wincing as she holds her side.

“No, that’s Jacob,” Kate answers.

Natasha squints at you. “Did you change his kibble?”

“What? No.”

“Yelena and I told you on day one that he could grow like this!” Kate says, almost stamping her foot in frustration at both of your poor memories. “Now do you believe us?”

“I just got shot,” Natasha says, closing her eyes and laying back down. “This could all be a dream as far as I’m concerned.”

“Natasha!”

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” You scoop up your girlfriend and carry her over to Jacob, who flattens himself against the ground so you and Kate can climb on. He trots back to the Quinjet without being prompted and shrinks back to his original size when he arrives.

“That’s a good boy,” you tell him with a pat on the head before you carry Natasha onto the Quinjet.

***********************************************************************

It turns out, Natasha was merely grazed by the bullet, so she didn’t need to stay overnight in the medical bay. Kate offers to let Jacob stay in her room that night, which surprises you, but you can sense that her and the corgi have bonded after the day’s events, so you don’t object. You tell Jacob good night and promise to cook him the biggest steak you can find tomorrow, and he licks your hand, trotting down the hall with Kate.

You go with Natasha back to your room.

“Do you want me to run you a bath?” you ask.

“Will you join me?” she asks.

“Of course.”

You walk into the master bathroom, plugging the tub and running the water at a warm but not hot temperature. You’re still sweaty and grimy yourself from the mission and you think Natasha will appreciate the non-scalding temperature of the water. You grab the soap and shampoo from the shower and put it on the edge of the tub, then call Natasha in.

The two of you undress each other carefully. Natasha has a waterproof bandage covering her side and a few other scratches and bruises from the mission. You have some of your own, but they’re nowhere near the same severity as hers. You can tell she’s tired from how slow she moves and you kiss her head before you help her into the tub. You slip in behind her, the water the perfect temperature against your skin and you lean back against the edge, Natasha sitting between your legs.

“This is nice,” she mumbles, resting against you and closing her eyes.

You soak a washcloth in the water and lather it up with soap, gently brushing it across Natasha’s shoulders and down her arms. She turns around so you can wash her front, and then she takes the cloth from you and washes you with it. You love spending time with her like this, sharing such a simple but intimate activity together. After you wash your hairs and drain the tub of all the soap and shampoo, you move to get out, but Natasha grabs onto your hand and asks you to stay for a little longer. You fill the tub again with fresh water and sit back down, facing her this time.

Her hands rests on your thighs under the water and you feel her squeeze them before trailing up to cup between your legs.

“Nat?” you ask, but she leans forward to silence you with a kiss.

“Is this okay?” she asks, stroking you softly.

“Yes,” you respond with a shuddering breath, tilting your head back against the edge of the tub. Natasha knows her way around your body better than you do at this point; she knows how to get you worked up in minutes, or how to draw out the pleasure until you’re literally putty in her hands.

“Good. Just relax for me, baby.”

“I can do that.” You close your eyes as Natasha touches you, moaning when her hands slide up and down your shaft with the perfect amount of pressure. She trails kisses down your jaw, pausing to suck on your neck as she builds you up to release.

It doesn’t take long until you’re throbbing in her hands. “Fuck, Nat. I…I’m close,” you pant. She squeezes just under your head, effectively stopping you from blowing and you open your eyes again, just in time to see her lifting herself onto your cock, slipping you into her and the combination from the water and the warmth of her walls makes you moan in satisfaction.

Natasha holds onto your shoulders as she moves her hips and water splashes out of the tub in waves. You cup her bottom, tilting your head up to silently ask for a kiss that she obliges to, sealing her lips with yours while she rides you. You love this woman so much, you feel like you’ll never be able to show her or put it in words. But when she rests her forehead against yours, you know that she knows.

Your body goes still when you finally cum, your abs flexing into a washboard and Natasha purposely tilts her hips up so she can rub her clit against them, reaching her own high seconds after yours. She rests her head against your chest and you wrap your strong arms tightly around her, a silent reminder of how much you love her and how you’ll never let anything happen to her.

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AN: Aww, I love Super J. :) And Nat and R’s relationship.

Please like, comment, and reblog! Follow for more content.

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader

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theladycarpathia · 2 years

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“This is invite only, Hargrove,” Robin says, firmly planting her feet in the middle of the door. The general appearance of Family Video is putting out signals that they are shut up for business. The blinds are closed, the lights are off and the sign on the front door clearly states ‘Closed for Private event.’ Keith was finally cool enough to let them use the back room of Family Video for a movie night, providing that he could come and Robin introduced him to the girls from Band. Whether any of them will be interested is another matter.

“I’m aware,” Billy says, chewing lazily on a piece of gum. Christ, he’s not even closing his mouth as he chews. Fuck knows why half the girls at school found him attractive - they’ve clearly not seen the white glob of gum being mashed between his teeth. “I was invited.”

“Oh yeah?” Robin challenges, because to her knowledge you had to be invited by either Keith, Steve or herself. They’d kept the list relatively small - Vickie, Lucy and Anna from school, Nancy and Jonathan, Eddie and Chrissy, Heather, Barb, and a few others from their collective high school years. She’d seen the list. She’d written the list. No way was Billy Hargrove on it. “By who?”

Billy’s shit-eating grin widens.

“By Harrington, of course,” he purrs, as though she’s one of those moms that used to lounge by the pool or book his lessons at the club. She can’t quite picture Billy teaching people tennis, not anymore than she could picture him teaching kids to swim. But apparently the white shorts have the same effect as the little red lifeguarding ones on the housewives of Hawkins. Gross.

Then his words register and she gawps at him.

“I really don’t fucking think so,” she says bluntly, because she’s heard enough about Billy and Steve. The Halloween party, the car race that ended up with both of them in jail, the scuffle at the basketball game, despite them both being on the same team. The two have a long and complicated history, and Robin knows this because she’s worked with Steve at various jobs for the last year and a half. Which means all she’s heard is bitching about Billy Hargrove for the last year and a half.

She’d heard enough even before she and Steve were friends. The dethroned King and the new kid on the block, having it out in a fight that ended with both of them bloodied and unconscious. Even she’d heard the whispers and discounted almost all of them immediately. It was a fight over Wheeler. No, it was a fight over another girl. No, it was definitely over Wheeler, because they were at the Byers place. Jonathan actually defeated both of them, leaving them passed out on his living room floor. There was so much shit and Robin had pegged all of it as untrue.

She knew enough of King Steve, the hair, the mouth, the legend. She’d vaguely seen Billy in the halls and at games. It wasn’t until he hung over her counter, a challenge in his eyes, that she’d realized some of the truth behind that fight. Realized a few things about Billy Hargrove that most of the kids at school wouldn’t.

She’s not sure Steve knows.

She thinks that Billy knows about her.

“I was invited,” he insists, casually leaning on the door-frame. He still dresses like a whore, Robin is amused to note. He’s wearing a shirt, if you can call revealing both tits and a hint of belly button ‘wearing.’ He’s wearing a pair of jeans so tight that they could be painted on, which is no improvement from the obscenely white shorts he wears at the club. Where teenage girls and suburban moms flock to in droves, just to adjust their tennis whites and hope to catch his eye.

Robin really wishes she could tell them that they’re barking up the wrong tree. She’s had Billy pegged since the day they opened Scoops and he turned up in a tank top and jeans, just to lounge in a booth with his cantankerous sister for half an hour. She didn’t even seem to want to be there, which had made Robin think.

He pulls out a cigarette and a lighter, even though he still has gum in his mouth. She sincerely hopes that he’s not the kind of person who just drops his old gum onto the sidewalk. But to her relief, he sticks it into the wrapper and stashes it in his pocket, cigarette dangling from his bottom lip. “Old Stevie and I are good pals now, haven't you heard?”

“No,” Robin retorts. Steve is her best friend, a fact that still baffles and delights her. Pitching up at Scoops last summer to find that the king of Hawkins High was her coworker hadn’t exactly filled her with joy.

But as it turns out, Steve is pretty cool. And they don’t keep secrets, which is why Robin is so sure that she would have heard about this little development.

Alright, so she’s kept Billy’s rather obvious crush secret, but that’s not hers to tell.

“Well, we are,” he says, shortly, exhaling a stream of smoke. His cool blue eyes flash briefly, a little of that hot temper making a reappearance. Robin smothers a grin.

“So,” she says casually, making sure she takes up as much space in the doorway as possible. It’s fucking freezing, because it’s November but she’s not about to miss the opportunity to mock him. “If I go and get old Stevie…he’ll totally say that he invited you because you’re such ‘good buds’. Did I get that right?” She watches his jaw clench, a familiar enough motion. Billy Hargrove is all coiled heat, an explosion just waiting for the right spark.

“That’s what I said,” he says, stubbing out his now smouldering, barely used, cigarette on the side of the building - thank fuck Keith isn’t out here to see this - and flicks it away. “Now can you go and get him before we both freeze our tits off out here?”

“Hey!” Steve appears behind Robin, bright in his favorite yellow sweater. He spots Billy in the doorway and fucking beams. Robin moves from feeling like she’s missed a step to feeling as though she’s just tumbled down the entire fucking staircase.

“Hey, Bambi,” Billy says easily, and nudges Robin out of the way, slipping inside the warmth of Family Video. He just…softens the moment he sees Steve, all of his previous aggression seeping away. Robin stares.

She doesn’t get it personally. Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington is just like any other guy. Nice enough hair, big dark eyes, pouty mouth. He’s not bad to look at. But she never got why it sent all the girls at school into raptures when he walked by, and she really doesn’t get it now.

“You made it!” Steve says, tugging awkwardly on a strand of hair that’s fallen in front of his eyes. “I didn’t think you were going to come.”

“Nearly didn’t,” Billy comments, flicking a disdainful glance at Robin. “I didn’t know your bouncer was going to be so effective.” Steve has the decency to look sheepish.

“I forgot to add your name to the list,” he mumbles, and Robin can smell the lie on him a mile off. He didn’t add Billy to the list on purpose, knowing full well he’d have to explain why he was inviting an asshole to their movie night. “Go in, I just have to…speak to Robin.”

Robin closes the door on the cold Indiana air and folds her arms across her chest. Steve waits until Billy has vanished behind the Employees Only red curtain.

“What the fuck, Harrington?” Robin demands, feeling unsettled and embarrassed. She hates that Billy has managed to show her up, but the core of her hurt lies in that Steve didn’t tell her. Actually willingly kept something from her. They’ve never done that, not since that night at Carol’s party where they both got totally wasted on some kind of punch and she told him about Tammy Thompson. Sharing secrets and a toilet bowl is what made them best friends.

“I’m sorry!” Steve pleads, an upset flush to his neck. “It was a last minute thing and I thought you wouldn’t approve. I mean, it’s Billy.”

“Well, yeah,” Robin says, flicking the lock on the door. Short of any more surprise visitors, everyone is here. They probably don’t have long before Keith demands they start the first film. “But I thought we hated Billy. You hate Billy. All I’ve heard for nearly two years is that he’s an asshole with stupid hair and stupid tight jeans and…” She trails off. Now that she’s said it all aloud she can hear herself. Can hear how Steve’s words sound, how familiar they are because she’s said things like that herself. How Becky Orchard thought she was all that in her training bra. That Beth Larsen’s new red lipstick was too bright and Robin couldn’t stop staring at it. That Tammy Thompson’s stupid perfume made her gag.

Oh yes. Robin’s said things like that before.

“Steve,” Robin says, slowly. “Do you have something that you want to tell me?”

Steve promptly looks terrified.

“It was dumb,” he mutters, eyes flicking down to the floor. “I don’t really…”

But what he means to say is lost as Keith barrels back through the curtains to demand that they start the film now because people have curfews (Keith has a curfew) and it’s inconsiderate to not start promptly (Keith is terrified of his mother) and who the fuck invited Billy Hargrove (and whoever did so is fired, because Keith is also terrified of Billy.)

“Coming,” Robin calls merrily and then digs her fingers into Steve’s arm so he can’t run away.

“I will let this go for tonight but you are taking me home after shift tomorrow and buying pizza and telling me exactly what the hell is going on.” Steve nods mutely and flees the moment she lets go. How much of an answer she’ll get out of him tomorrow is debatable, which is fucking wild given that she’s heard every gory detail of his love live, from Heidi, to Janine to Daisy.

Robin doesn’t follow him in just yet, needing a minute to tip her head back against the door and take a deep breath. Holy shit.

She’ll have to go in soon and endure yet another rewatch of Fast Times, and Keith’s awkward conversations with her friends and as she’s not sure how far along Steve and Billy are, there’s a chance they’ll sneak off to the closest to make out which really ruins her plans with Vickie. They only have the one supply closet.

Man, Steve really can’t give her shit over Tammy Thompson now.

Cheered by the thought, she slips into the back just as the opening credits roll up, and slides into her seat next to Vickie. But she doesn’t look at the movie right away, instead watching the barely visible space in between Billy and Steve and wonders how she didn’t see it before.

#harringroveweek #harringrove #Steve Harrington #Billy Hargrove #I'm very soft for billy being a dick to everyone #but steve #the boy has it bad #modern au #no upside down au #prompt: invite only #family video #robin buckley #robin missed a few things #and steve and billy will go make out in the cupboard #Luna add to masterlist

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gfawkesphoenixchokingonashes · 2 years

Photo

Neo the enby horse, matchmaker in my shrunkyclunks fic, actually exists!

where angels fear to tread

“Hey, you fucking enby bastard. Stop stealing those!”

Neo’s head came up, muzzle twitching, happily crunching. They had snatched a snack from someone’s pockets.

Intrigued, Steve took a few steps closer. He wasn’t exactly in stealth mode, not even close. But the person inside the stall hadn’t seemed to hear him trudging like a wounded sloth down the aisle way.

The unseen person sighed heavily, continuing with the cleaning of Neo’s stall. “You know, for an animal that costs so much, you could at least help earn your keep. Move your goddamn foot, will you?”

The man’s voice had a particular lilt, an accent Steve couldn’t quite place. After listening to the locals, he was confident that it didn’t sound midwestern. Possibly not even from the United States.

Steve reached the stall door, sliding his hands onto the bars. The man had his back turned, a wheelbarrow blocking the exit, pitchfork in hand. He was broad and muscular, wearing running shorts and tennis shoes. The hood of his sweatshirt was pulled over his head, his calves bare; overall, an odd picture for two in the morning.

Not wanting to startle him, Steve cleared his throat. When there was no response, he moved into the doorway, positioning himself behind the wheelbarrow. Neo snuffled softly at him, still refusing to move that foot. The man in the stall was tugging with all his might, attempting to force the horse to shift.

“Fine. Be stubborn.”

As the man straightened, Steve thought he recognized the figure. At first, he wasn’t sure, but on further study, it seemed more and more likely that the facility owner was, in fact, cleaning a horse’s stall in the middle of the night.

Before Steve could respond again, louder this time, Mr. Barnes lifted a pile of horse manure and pitched it toward the wheelbarrow. Only his aim wasn’t the greatest, and half of the load scattered over the side and onto Steve’s pants.

Mr. Barnes finally saw him standing there, and he was most definitely startled. “Oh, shit!” He scrambled under his hood to remove his AirPods, tucking them into a pocket and setting the pitchfork against the stall wall. It clattered against the side and fell into the shavings. “I’m sorry! Jeezus, I didn’t see you standing there! Gave me a heart attack!”

Read the fic on AO3!

#stucky #shrunkyclunks #Steve rogers #bucky barnes #hurt comfort #horses #fluff #art by sanguineterrain #words by #gfawkes

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tuiccim · 3 years

Text

Terrigenisis (Part 17)

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Bucky Barnes X Inhuman!Reader

Words: 1700

Summary: After undergoing terrigenisis unwillingly your life is turned upside down when you are deemed too dangerous to return to life as a civilian. You are put with the Avengers team to train and rebuild. As you hone your powers and skills, you must also decide if you can find home and love again. Or is your curse to be a lonely wanderer forever?

Warnings: a god of Mischief (He’s a warning, okay?)

Terrigenisis Series Masterlist Divider by @firefly-graphics

You lounged on the lawn furniture in the back of the compound watching Dizzy run in joyful circles as Redtail made loops overhead. You had brought a tennis ball out and Dizzy was adorable as she ran around with it in her mouth. Occasionally, she’d drop it in your laugh and you’d throw it out into the expanse of lawn. You laughed as she leapt into action each time the ball was thrown. Redtail would swoop down every now and then to tease the dog.

The rest of the team was out on missions or meetings. Sam, Steve, and Bucky had been sent on a mission yesterday afternoon and you were enjoying some down time. It felt like it had been some time since it had happened. You stretched lazily, basking in the feel of the sun on your skin and the feeling of contentment.

You hear footsteps approaching and turn to see Loki walking towards you. He had been in a meeting with Thor, Tony, and Maria Hill when you had checked earlier.

“Hi. How’d the meeting go?” You greet the god.

“It went well. Nothing of grave importance,” Loki takes the chair next to you, “What are you up to?”

“Relaxing in this glorious weather,” you see his eyes take in your tank top, jean shorts, and sandals. “You know, I’ve never seen you in anything except the leather. Is there casual wear on Asgard?”

“Simple tunics and robes but, as prince and warrior, I do not wear them often.” Loki raises an eyebrow at you.

“I see. What about for Tony’s party this weekend? Will you wear this?” you motion to his attire.

“I plan to wear a suit.” Loki chuckles.

“I look forward to seeing that. Isn’t the leather hot though? It’s 80 today.”

“I could strip for you if you’d like.” Loki smirks playfully.

“That’s okay,” you hold your hands up in defeat.

“Is this better?” Loki’s form shimmers for a moment before revealing him in bermuda shorts and hawaiin shirt.

You grin, “I like it! You look ready for a beach vacation.” You stare at Loki for a moment, wondering about his personal life. He knew a lot about you but rarely revealed much about himself. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, darling. Anything.”

“Do you have… someone? Here or on Asgard or… somewhere?” you stammer through the question.

“Your two lovers are not enough for you?” Loki chuckles.

“They’re plenty for me. You don’t talk about yourself much, Lok. I mean, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to but I’m curious about you. We’re friends and so I wonder, is there someone? Are you a player? Are you a monk? You know my story. You haven’t given me much of yours. Have you ever been in love?”

Loki studies you for a moment and then nods as if deciding something to himself, “I suppose I would be what you Midgardians refer to as a player.”

“Love ‘em and leave ‘em?” you giggle.

“I suppose. There’s only ever been one person who…” Loki trails off.

“Who what?”

“Who I thought I could fall for.”

“What happened?” You question.

“She belongs to another.” Loki says as he looks away.

“She belongs only to herself.” You counter.

“Of course. She’s engaged to another.”

“I’m sorry.” You tell him.

“Thank you.” Loki pauses to contemplate before asking, “Are you happy? You’ve been through a lot in your short life.”

You smile at the statement, “I’m not that young, Loki.”

“I’m over 1000 years old.” Loki deadpans.

“True,” you laugh, amazed at the lifespan of Asgardians, “Yes. I am happy. This isn’t what I imagined my life to be. Terrigenisis tore my world apart but you make the best of what you have. I have a family in the team, lovers in Steve and Bucky, friends, a purpose. This is… home.”

“And I’m your friend?” Loki asks.

“Of course you are.”

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll betray you at some point? I mean, I am notorious.”

“I trust you, Loki. I think I know your heart, but understand that I live by the statement, ‘Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.’ I may let someone make a fool of me once but I won’t let them a second time. Once you lose my trust, it’s gone and would take a great deal to earn it back,” you explain.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I have to trust you. I’m letting you play with my brain.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Giving me a chance. Trusting me. Seeing me as something other than the villain that I was.”

“You’re more than your past. Oh!” you exclaim when a slobber covered ball is dropped in your lap. “Hi Dizz.” you laugh and throw the ball for her.

“She has you well trained.” Loki smirks.

“That she does. Speaking of training, are you up for another session?” you ask.

“Same time as always, darling. I’ll see you then.” Loki gets up.

“See ya later, friend,” you watch as Loki walks back to the building, dropping the glamour to reveal his normal outfit as he walks. He sends you a brief wave before walking into the building. Your attention is pulled away when Dizzy drops the ball in your lap again. Time to play.

You get to the training room early to do some climbing and ended up in the rafters as you were known to do. You were just about to climb down when Loki entered with Thor trailing behind him.

“Drop it, brother,” Loki grouses at him.

“Just tell me you aren’t playing at anything with her and I will,” Thor demands.

“Mortals are your weakness,” Loki rolls his eyes at his brother.

“Love is not weakness, Loki.”

“I do not feel that way about her. She is a friend. Much like Sif is to you.” Loki says pointedly.

“That’s all I wanted, brother,” Thor smiles.

You clear your throat loudly, “Good afternoon, gentlemen.”

Loki looks up at you in amusement, “How long have you been there?”

“Well before you came in,” you wink at him.

Thor looks at you sheepishly, “I’ll let you two get to your training.”

“Okay. See ya later,” you are holding in your giggle as you make your way to the climbing rope and jump to it. When you slide to the floor, you look into Loki’s mischievous eyes and you both burst into laughter. When it’s spent you say dramatically, “Loki! I can no longer control myself. I must swoon into your arms!” You pretend to faint against him and he catches you.

“You’re ridiculous.” Loki narrows his eyes at you.

“Yup! And you, my friend, are stuck with me!” You stand back up.

“You know that won’t be the last time someone will make the insinuation.” Loki says quietly.

“People have a hard time believing a man and woman can be just friends,” you shrug.

“That is true. Can I ask you something?” Loki asks.

“Of course.”

“Hypothetically, would you have been able to fall in love with me if…” Loki trails off.

“I don’t think I would let myself fall in love with any Asgardian,” you admit.

“Why?”

“How old are you, Loki?”

“A little over a thousand years.”

“Exactly. Asgardians live for around 5,000 years, right?”

“Yes.”

“That’s why. Humans live maybe 80 years. That’s a blink in comparison. I’ve lost a lot of people who are important to me in my life. I don’t think I could purposely put someone through that. Falling for an Asgardian, letting them fall for you, would mean making them watch you die while they live on for millenia. I don’t think I could do that to someone, ever. It’s difficult enough being friends and knowing that. Being lovers, it would be unbearable.”

Loki nods, “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

You smile at him, glad he understands. “How about we get to work?”

“Let’s go, darling.”

Over the past week, you had worked up to slipping into Loki’s mind without the unbearable pain. It still caused a headache but you were able to see through his eyes and communicate in a similar fashion to how you did with animals. Today, you were attempting to take control of Loki’s movement. It wasn’t easy. Just lifting his hand took a toll. You drop the warg after a moment.

“What’s wrong?” Loki looks concerned.

“It’s difficult. The pain is worse,” you explain.

“Why don’t you warg and I’ll do some magic? Just play around a bit.”

“Okay. Sounds fun,” you warg back into Loki. He begins doing some simple tricks and you watch in delight. You try to concentrate on the motions he makes, the feel of the magic flowing through him, and his thought process as he works. A picture flashes in Loki’s mind and you catch a glimpse of a beautiful face before he forces it away.

“Does she know?” You ask in his head.

“What?” Loki hedges.

“Does she know?” you drop the warg.

“No.” Loki says.

“Then she’s not.”

“Not what?”

“She’s not lost to you. How do you know she doesn’t feel the same way?” you push.

“She… I… I don’t… She couldn’t-”

“Oh, I’m gonna stop you right there. She could. She really could, but if you never told her how you feel, what’s she supposed to do?”

“She’s engaged.” Loki insists.

“She’s not married, Loki. You should tell her. Wouldn’t it be better to know?”

“What?”

“At least then you’d know. Either she doesn’t and you have closure to move on. Or she does and you two can figure it out. ‘Better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all’, right? Better to say it and know than to spend the next few millennia wondering,” you needle.

“I…” Loki falters with a far away look in his eyes.

“Just promise me you’ll think about it.”

“I will.” Loki nods.

“Good,” you see Loki’s concentration is completely gone, “Why don’t we leave it for today?”

“Oh. Yes, good. I’ll see you later.” Loki walks away lost in thought.

“Later, loverboy,” you whisper with a chuckle to yourself.

Part 18

Tuiccim’s Masterlist

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platypanthewriter · 3 years

Text

Road Trip

Maybe call this your royalty/road trip prompt, @awickedplacethisis, it’s much shorter! Harringrove April prompt day 14, Road Trip

Once upon a time, in Westfield Indiana—not far from Indianapolis—there was a very, very large mansion, almost a castle, where there lived a family named Harrington.

There were servants inside the mansion, and servants outside the mansion; caddies to attend the golf course, and six crews of gardeners: two for around the reflecting pools, the rest for the grounds, and a tree surgeon on retainer. There were specialists for the indoor tennis courts, and the outdoor tennis courts, the outdoor swimming pool, and the indoor swimming pool.

And over the garage there lived a chauffeur by the name of Hargrove, imported from England years ago—together with a Rolls Royce—and a son, named William, or Billy.

It was a different world, for Billy Hargrove, watching the Harringtons through the bushes, or getting out of his father’s car—little Stevie Harrington wore suits, and rode horses, and sometimes, when his parents were on holiday, little Stevie Harrington would invite Billy to play.

Steve was a general, in these games, or sometimes the president, and Billy was, as ever, whatever was required, whether that was a dragon, or a magic steed, or a princess. When Steve’s parents came back from wherever they were, Billy saw him only from the garage windows, again.

The Harrington parties were otherworldly, for Billy, watching from the apartment over the garage. Billy folded his arms over the railing, watching the orchestra, and the fireworks—and sometimes Steve would climb his tree afterwards, with stories.

“I brought you something,” he would say, leaning to sit a folded linen napkin on Billy’s windowsill, containing three chocolates, or sometimes, “—they’re too busy to give me a kiss goodnight, Billy, so I came to you.”

He fell out of the tree, once, and Billy yelled, and then Steve was forbidden from climbing trees, and forbidden from waking the staff in the dead of night. He tried to climb it, still, with his cast, until Billy hid with the window closed. Steve called softly, and then more softly still, as Billy plugged his ears under the window, until finally he went away.

Steve ignored him, after that, until Billy made a paper airplane, stood on the edge of his railing out of sight of the car pulling in, and threw it when their fathers looked away. Steve saw it fly into the hedge, snatched it, and stuck it in his jacket, but he didn’t look over. Billy didn’t hear anything until Steve ran into the garage two days later, looking around wild-eyed, and waved to him, then hauled him into the hedge around the side.

His cast looked grubby—probably from climbing trees—and the hand not in a cast clutched tightly at Billy’s wrist. “Why wouldn’t you open the window,” he muttered, huffily.

“You might fall again!” Billy whisper-yelled back at him, but it was too good to see Steve to stay mad at him, so he hugged him as hard as he could, cast and all.

“I’d rather fall than not see you,” Steve said, and Billy swallowed, squeezing him tighter.

“I—I’ll sneak out. We could meet in your garden,” Billy said, meaning the grounds, and Steve shook his head.

“They’ll send you away. They caught my mother’s maid by the pool, at night, and they sent her away.” He thought. “I’ll write you letters,” he said, pulling away to stare into Billy’s eyes, and squeeze Billy’s hands, even though they were covered in oil. “I’ll leave them under the driver’s seat. You’ll have to be fast.”

“I’ll find them,” Billy told him, nodding, and that whole summer he found pictures of their games, and stories, and once, a picture of Billy himself, and Steve, holding hands.

That was before Steve was sent away to school. He was different, after—they were both older, but his eyes didn’t look for Billy, and he invited different people to the pool, his friends in their tailored suits, with no oil stains. Friends who would not be sent away.

Steve would come around while Billy was fixing cars, though, and brush his hand around Billy’s waist as he bent over an engine, or slide the trolley out to pull Billy from under the Rolls Royce as Billy changed the oil, and feed him sweet and unusual fruit. Billy stared up at Steve Harrington’s smile as he tried mango for the first time, licking it from Harrington’s fingers as he laughed, and then star fruit, and papaya.

Billy still watched the parties—Steve’s parents’ parties—from a tree, swinging his legs as Steve laughed, and flirted, and occasionally came over and leaned back against the tree, holding a glass of champagne up where Billy could reach down and take it.

Once, when Steve’s dance partner wandered over, he kissed her, whispering and laughing. Billy clenched his fingers against the tree’s branches for long minutes until they’d wandered away, and then he swung down. He went to bed early that night. His pillow was nearly enough to block out the music, and even the fireworks, until he heard the sound of a knock at his window.

He opened it on Steve in his suit, and Steve crawled in, right inside Billy’s room, with his creaky old floors, stained curtains, and the picture Steve had drawn of them holding hands, before he’d been sent away to school.

Steve stepped forward and kissed him the way he hadn’t done since they were children. Billy stared at him, half sure he was asleep, shivering a little with the open window in only his wifebeater and shorts. Steve’s hands were warm around his biceps.

“Wish I could dance with you,” he whispered, then brushed a kiss against Billy’s mouth again, and Billy inhaled in a quick jerk of his lungs. Steve leaned in again, and the floor creaked, and Billy pushed him back towards the window.

“Ssshhh,” he whispered, his fingers sinking into the silk of Steve’s cuffs, and the warm folds where his shirt was tucked into his trousers, under his jacket. “Sshhh…” he muttered again, letting Steve tilt his head, and kiss him softly, his mouth a little open so Billy couldn’t help chasing the warmth.

“You really want me to go?” Steve asked, laughing against his lips, and Billy snorted softly.

“Of course I don’t,” he whispered back.

The next dance, Steve came and leaned against the tree, held up some champagne, and said, “Meet me at the indoor tennis court.”

“...I’ll get fired,” Billy whispered, laughing, and Steve was quiet for a long moment.

“...I’ll understand if you don’t come,” he said softly, tipping back the champagne, “—but I’ll wait until the orchestra stops.”

Billy thought about what his father would do, already, if he was caught in the tree—what Steve’s mother would do if the chauffeur-in-training startled party guests, wandering around in work clothes—but he set his jaw. When everyone gathered around to hear Steve’s father speak on the podium in front of the fountains, Billy snuck off along the hedge—inside the hedge, within view of the house, his heart pounding—and then lingered outside of the tennis courts.

Steve arrived a few minutes later with a whole bottle of champagne, and slid his fingers through Billy’s, tugging him inside. “Why didn’t you go inside?” he asked, bending to sit the bottle down, and then sliding his hands around Billy’s waist.

“...I don’t know,” Billy laughed, who’d only ever been allowed near the courts to clean, or pick up balls. “Want to show me around?”

“This is where I play tennis, to keep me occupied, when I’m missing you,” Steve told him. “This is the wall that makes it so I can’t see your house…” he whispered, and Billy laughed, and slid his arms around Steve’s neck, holding him close. After a few minutes of just...molding against each other, sighing with relief, Steve’s head jerked up, his smile widening in the soft reflected light from the party. “Here,” he whispered, “—this is the song I had to dance with somebody else, when you were right there, in the tree.”

Billy laughed again, shaking his head in disbelief. Steve grabbed his hand, lifting it like a dance, and slid the other around his waist, kicking at Billy’s feet to get them to move. “I don’t know how,” Billy told him, squinting down at his feet, and Steve kissed him again, missing his mouth, laughing, and leaning to try again.

“I’ll show you,” he whispered, counting. After a while Billy realized Steve leading meant he wouldn’t get to spin him around, so he spun Steve anyway, and Steve staggered, yanking him along.

“...he’ll notice you’re gone,” Steve said, finally, as they lay next to each other, panting in their backs, passing the champagne back and forth for swigs. “I’ve kept you too late.”

“I stayed,” Billy told him, leaning over for another soft kiss, and then another, because Steve Harrington was his, at least for a few hours.

The next day, Steve came out while Billy was washing the cars, and leaned against the wall in his tailored suit. He had a weird-looking fruit—dark red, and not very...plump looking, and he carved at it with a penknife as Billy worked. The purple juice stained his fingers.

“You know the story of Hades and Persephone,” Steve said, idly, and Billy thought about it, wiping sweat off his face.

“...he stole her, didn’t he?” Billy asked. It had sounded scary, as a child, reading from the huge illustrated book in the Harrington’s massive echoing library, but he thought, now, maybe he understood. “So they could be together. And her parents rained destruction on them.”

Steve grimaced. “...this is a pomegranate.”

“Oh,” Billy said, intrigued. He rinsed his hands and head off, pushing his hair back to see Steve open-mouthed.

“Come here,” Steve whispered, and Billy came over, and they risked just one kiss, in the middle of the garage, with their fathers both away at work. Billy could barely make himself let go, but he backed away, after, and leaned against a car. “...I thought I’d bring you some seeds,” Steve said, softly. “So you’ll stay with me.”

Billy dug his fingers into his own crossed arms, laughing. “Sure,” but then, when Steve held out the six tiny, bright, faceted seeds, he swallowed. “...six doesn’t seem like enough, now I see how many there are. Give me half.”

Steve grinned, glancing up at him with a wry smile. “That’s fair,” he said, nodding, and they counted them out on two plates. Steve held the odd one up to Billy’s mouth, and he leaned in and ate it, his tongue brushing Steve’s fingers. He helped Steve wash the juice off, after, sliding their fingers together.

When Steve began to work at his father’s company, Billy became his chauffeur. He waited for Steve Harrington every morning, and every evening, and Steve sat in the back, watching him in the rearview mirror.

When Steve bought a car, he took Billy along, and on the way home, he asked him to pull off of the road, into a field. The stars were bright, and his kisses were warm, and Billy helped him lay out a blanket.

Billy wondered, as he fumbled with their belts, clumsy with kissing, whether it would ever happen again.

It didn’t.

Steve wanted ice cream, occasionally, or dinner, and asked Billy to join him, but he worked very early and very late. He still sometimes pressed a quick kiss to Billy’s lips—if no one was looking, if he wasn’t running late—but there were no lingering touches, except one time.

The girl Steve had kissed under Billy’s tree was the daughter of another CEO, and their engagement was announced on the local radio. Steve stared straight ahead, his jaw clenched, and then told Billy to use the back elevator, and come up to his office, right away. When Billy got there, Steve locked the doors, and pulled Billy along to the bed behind the kitchenette. He didn’t say anything, he just slid his hands up under Billy’s shirt, and followed them with his mouth, kissing softly up Billy’s stomach to his chest, and then across his collarbones, as Billy wriggled out of his clothes.

They didn’t unlock the door all day, no matter whose voice came through.

Three weeks later, when Billy climbed in the car and suggested Steve’s favorite cafe, and then the office, Steve said no. He sat looking out the window, his eyes far away.

Billy waited silently, full of dread. “...Mr. Harrington?” he asked, finally, and then, because his voice gave out, he cleared his throat. “...do you have...something to tell me?”

“No,” Steve said, smiling—sadly, Billy thought, and he clenched his hands on the wheel. “...I think I just want to drive. South.”

“...yeah, okay,” Billy said automatically, and then, as was ingrained, “—sir.” Steve snorted a laugh.

As they passed through Carmel and then Indianapolis, Steve slowly relaxed, finally asking Billy to stop for breakfast when he was already an hour late for work. It wasn’t Billy’s place to ask, and he hardly wanted to remind Steve they were not where they were supposed to be, but something must have come across in his eyes as he chewed his bacon and watched Steve, because Steve’s smile went tense again.

“It’s all handled,” he said, sipping his coffee. “I think we can take a little road trip, don’t you?”

“For how long?” Billy asked, his fork freezing in midair, imagining just—spending time with Steve, walking, maybe. Going to a movie theater, he thought, huffing a laugh. He wondered whether Steve Harrington had ever been in a movie theater.

“I’m not sure,” Steve said, glancing up at him with an impenetrable expression, and Billy’s heart hurt, a little, because Steve Harrington had never been a difficult person to read.

After breakfast, Steve slid into the seat next to him, instead of the back, and rested his hand on Billy’s as he shifted gears. Billy could hardly keep his eyes off it.

“How long is this road trip,” he asked, keeping his voice even, and Steve laughed, grimacing.

“Depends on you,” he said.

I ate half of the pomegranate, Billy wanted to say.

Steve directed Billy into the garage next to a tall, narrow blue house with a long, wide porch and white trim, and Billy’s heart started to pound. “...is anyone else staying here?” he asked, cautiously, as Steve unlocked the door, and he shook his head, watching Billy’s face. They wandered into a fine living room, Billy thought, though sparsely furnished. As they wandered through the kitchen and upstairs, Billy pushed open a door on a room with a small, plain bed, and his things. His shoes, his trunk, no longer in the little apartment he shared with his dad.

No longer overlooking Harrington House.

“My friend Buckley has a house near here,” Steve said. “She told me this one was coming up for sale,” he said slowly, glancing at Billy. “...I could afford it.”

Billy was...happy, he thought, probably. “You’re...leaving me here?” he asked, his eyes stinging, and fixed on the plain little room. “You—you’ll visit. Sometimes.”

“I’m—no,” Steve said sharply, grabbing his arm, and Billy yanked away to sit on the squeaky mattress.

“You want me gone before the marriage, then,” he whispered. “I get...a few days? A day,” he bargained, glancing up at Steve, and setting his jaw. He wanted to swear at Steve, for—for being everything he wanted, he guessed. And everything he couldn’t have.

“No, no, I’ve broken off the engagement,” Steve said, grabbing Billy’s hands, “—and I’ve quit. I have a new job, Billy.”

“What,” Billy asked him, hoarsely.

“I’m disowned,” Steve said, laughing, his voice unsteady. “I’ve convinced my father I’m too difficult to reason with. I’m out of the will. I will live here. I bought the house with my money, from Mother.”

“Here,” Billy breathed, staring around again, and then at Steve’s face.

“I hoped you would like it here,” Steve told him. “I wanted to show you, so you could—road trip here. Come down on weekends, maybe—”

“You packed my things,” Billy reminded him. “Is this a little road trip, or—”

“This could be home,” Steve told him, smiling tensely. “Come see our room.”

“...our room,” Billy laughed, disbelievingly, as Steve drew him down the hall, and into a wide, high-ceilinged room with a massive bed.

“Our room,” Steve repeated, smiling against Billy’s lips, as Billy took shaky, bewildered breaths. “Who would question a single gentleman having a gentleman?”

The other Harringrove April prompts I’ve done

#harringrove #Harringrove April #Steve's the richest boy in the state probably #Billy's a chauffeur #They pine

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donutloverxo · 4 years

Text

Drabbles and headcanons masterlist

I'm sorry I suck at summaries! I tried my best! Lemme know if any links aren't working. Happy reading❤

Main masterlist

Steve Rogers

Drabbles

Working out - Working out sucks. But not so much when you get to oogle Steve.

Too big to handle - Steve's cock is too big for your pussy.

The list - You try to protect Steve from game of thrones' terrible ending

Steve's balls - Sometimes your daddy can be shy to ask you to do things too (aka Steve wants his balls sucked)

Big dick - Steve has a big dick.

Take care of you - You want to take care of hurt mob!Steve and make him feel better.

Beard burn - Nomad Steve gives you delicious beard burn

Daddy - Steve wants you to call him daddy

A stormy night - Steve gives you a lift on a stormy night

Cupcakes and punishments - Steve is mad at you for flirting with the cute baker

Sad girl summer - Steve's doll is feeling blue so he tries to cheer her up by being there for her.

Strong soft girl - Your coworkers are mean to you so Steve steps in. He wants to take care of you even if you can do so yourself.

Just breathe - You're stressed about work. Steve helps you.

Cuddling - You cuddle with Steve on a quiet evening

Bedtime stories - Steve has the perfect cure for your sadness - tickles and bedtime stories.

Pda - Everyone is grossed out by how much you and Steve love each other.

Drunk Steeb - Steve is fascinated with your boobs while drunk.

No Nut November - It's a challenge for you to resist your supersoldier for an entire month.

Bikini - You tease Steve with a skimpy bikini and have fun on a beach.

Milf - Steve doesn't like your sons friend calling you a milf.

I kissed a girl - Where you make Steve jealous by kissing Nat.

Polaroids - You send Steve dirty pictures of yourself. And he punishes/rewards you for it.

Strong man - Steve doesn't want you going out in a skimpy Halloween costume.

Boobies - Steve has to endure the groping and poking of a high reader.

Wrapped - Where you have mob!Steve wrapped around your fingers. Soon-to-be bride - Part two to wrapped where steve is too busy on your vacation but then makes it upto you.

Kiss it better - Where you chose beautiful but bad shoes which give you oweies and Steve kisses them away.

Awkward - Steve gets all awkward after watching some sexy scenes with you.

Gift - Where mob!steve buys you expensive jewellery for your anniversary only to find you don't care for them. You only want him.

What makes you beautiful - You think Steve is out of your league. He shows you that he absolutely isn't.

Right now! - With mechanic Steve and an impatient bratty reader.

Green Monster - Where you want Steve but don't want to live in Peggy's shadow. With a little help from Tony it all works out.

Tennis - You tease Steve while playing tennis by wearing a short mini skirt.

Broken promises - Steve didn't make it for your birthday but he still has a gift for you.

Tippy toes - Some post coital bliss where you dance with Steve in the kitchen.

Agent - Steve giving it to you till you can't take it anymore.

Cuddles - You fall asleep on Steve while at a party and he tucks you in bed.

Wedding anniversary HC - you spend your wedding anniversary with Steve.

Boobie pillow - Steve likes your boobies. Lol.

Bedtime stories - Steve has the perfect cure for your tooth ache. Some tickles and bedtime stories.

At least we're together - You celebrate your birthday with Steve and your friends while on the run.

Drunk ramblings - You ramble your insecurities to Steve while drunk. He reassures you.

Not a lady - You come out to Steve

Angry steeb - Steves feeling a bit down. Nothing cuddles from you can't fix.

Gold digger - Being a mobsters girl isn't easy but you know how to hold your own.

Too big to handle - Steve's cock is too big for your pussy.

A stormy night - Steve gives you a ride home when you're out in the rain and down on your luck.

Song drabbles

Walk me home - In a post-snap dangerous world, Steve walks you home.

Your person - You don't feel so alone when you're with Steve.

100 words drabbles

Do you trust me - You peg Steve and ask himnto trust you

Trust - Steve's fed up of you not trusting him

Are you tired? - In which you ride Steve.

Headcanons

NSFW alphabet

Fluffy alphabet

Sex with Steve Rogers

Spanking and Steve Rogers

Being Steve's perfect wife

How to make Steve fall in love with you

Steve having a crush on you includes

Dating Steve includes

Marrying Steve includes

Taking care of a cranky Steve

Touchy Steve

Steve and a musical girl

Ransom Drysdale

Drabbles

Wipe that smirk off your face - You slap Ransom while riding to wipe his smirk off his face

Slip of the tongue - Ransom accidentally says the L word

Friend-zoned - Ransom tries to protect you from meanies at a bar and you friednzone him.

Storm - You and Ransom cuddle and watch as thunderstorms go by.

100 words drabbles

Bad for you - You know Ransom is bad for you but you still love him

Headcanons

Riding Ransoms thigh

Andy Barber

Drabbles

50 shades of Andy - Andy finds your erotic books ties you up and bindfolds you.

Go back to sleep - Just some cockwarming with Andy.

100 words drabbles

Hope - Being with you gives Andy hope

Chris Evans

Chapsrick - Chris cant find his chapstick

Breakfast in bed - Chris makes you breakfast in bed so you could gain some strength.

NSFW alphabet for Chris

Mike Weiss

Drabbles

100 word drabbles

Need - Mike needs you, will you give in?

Tony Stark

Drabbles

Jealous Tony - Tony is jealous of your new friend and accuses you of cheating.

#berrys masterlist #masterlist #drabbles and hcs #ransom drysdale x reader #andy barber x reader #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader

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buckyskorpion · 4 years

Note

“take a seat, we’re gonna be here a while” with bucky barnes? please and thanks! i love your writing btw xoxo

i know this was sent ages ago but i needed to get mi creative juices flowing so im filling this prompt now! thank you for sending this and thank u so much for enjoying my work!!

~~~~~~~~~

Bucky appears in the doorway look grumpy, lumpy, and thoroughly confused. He stuffs his hands in his oversized hoodie and glares at you from the shadows, frown deepening as you catch his eye and grin.

“Good morning,” you sing-song. The stormcloud in the doorway grumbles like thunder.

“It’s two-thirty,” he says, and you just shrug.

Natasha whacks you on the side of the head which hurts like a bitch (not that you’d tell her) and says, “Stop moving.”

“What are you doing?” Bucky asks, sounding wary. He shuffles further into the room with a deeply suspicious squint, trying to see what Natasha is doing on your head. You sit cross-legged at her feet while she works - she’s already sectioned your hair so you’re sure you look a treat with the deformed buns littered over your head. Now she’s got the clippers and is carefully shaving the hair at the nape of your neck, moving up in careful strokes.

“Shaving my head,” you tell Bucky, gesturing to your hair wildly which earns you another slap from Nat. “Duh.”

“Why?” Bucky asks slowly, like you’re dumb, and maybe you are but honestly you’re just so bored. Quarantine sucks, your hair sucks, you’re sick of it getting in your face and in your mouth and being a general pain in your ass. Training is a nightmare with long hair, Steve always sits on it somehow during movie night, and Sam won’t stop bitching about it clogging the drain in the gym showers. This is what’s best for everyone.

“My hair, my choice,” you say, and Nat hums in agreement. “I wanna see what my skull looks like. Don’t you ever wonder that? What if I’ve had a weird shaped head this whole time and never knew.”

“You do have a weird shaped head,” Bucky says, “Don’t need to shave it to figure that out.”

“Rude,” you huff. Under you breath, like an actual child, you mutter, “Your mum’s got a weird shaped head.”

“My mum’s dead,” Bucky says, deadpan. Nat snorts and you grab a chunk of your hair to throw at Bucky, but it just falls uselessly at his feet.

A few beats of silence pass, save for the low buzz of Nat’s clippers. It feels really nice, like every stroke is ten pounds off your shoulders (or scalp, you suppose) and you can’t wait for Nat to be done. She moves onto the next section, kneeling in a ring of your hair on the ground, while Bucky just stands in front of you shuffling from foot to foot like an idiot.

“Take a seat,” you say, gesturing to the floor space in front of you. “We’re gonna be here a while.”

Bucky hesitates for a second. You can hear his metal hand whirring in the pocket of his hoodie like he’s wringing his hands together, but eventually he folds himself down to sit cross-legged in front of you. You smile at him, and he smiles back but it morphs into more of a laugh. His face scrunches up all cute as he looks at you and you can’t help but poke your tongue out at him.

“You look funny,” he says, gesturing to the weird buns Nat’s put your hair in to hold it out of her way.

“That’s rich,” you say, gesturing to his face. He rolls his eyes but he’s still smiling, so you know he’s not really offended. But you’re looking at him now and he does look funny - dark circles under his eyes, red rimmed like he’s been crying or up all night or maybe both. He must’ve been wandering around the compound at two in the morning for a reason, and unless it was to shave his head as well, it probably wasn’t a good one.

He seems happy enough now, sitting on your bedroom floor with you and Nat and the soft hum of the clippers. She’s done one side of your head now, and it feels weird to not have the familiar curtain of hair tucked behind your ear. You reach up to move it only to find nothing there, your fingers brushing against fresh, cropped stubble instead. It feels so different - soft but rough at the same time, scratchy under your fingertips but so good on your scalp. You feel your eyes grow wide as you run your fingers over your new hair again, ignoring Nat’s annoyed huff at your movements.

“You like it?” Bucky asks, smiling at you stupid. A rush of giddy excitement shoots through your chest, spurring you to reach out and grab Bucky’s arm without thinking.

“Feel it,” you say, tugging his arm until his hand leaves his pocket. He looks wildly uncomfortable for a moment before he relents, letting you manoeuvre his flesh hand onto the side of your head.

“Do you want me to cut you?” Nat asks, but she doesn’t sound pissed. In fact, she sounds amused, and that’s never a good sign for you. But you can’t really focus on that when Bucky is now entranced with the feeling of your buzzed head under his fingertips.

He stares wide-eyed as he rubs the side of your head, and you let your eyes flutter closed at the feeling. It’s nice, alright? Bucky’s touch tingles all over your scalp and down your spine, little lightning bolts to follow his moody thunder from before. All trace of his bad mood is gone as he scratches at your buzz, now, making you shiver.

That seems to be the final straw for Natasha, who finishes off the last chunk and clicks the clippers off. The silence startles Bucky and he lets his hand drop, looking up almost guiltily at Nat as she says, “I’m done, I’m going to bed. Have fun, idiots.”

“Thanks Tash,” you say, but you don’t even look at her as she leaves the room. You’re too busy looking at Bucky.

“How’s it look?” you ask, all quiet in your now silent bedroom. Bucky snaps his gaze back from the empty space Nat once took up to you, eyes widening as he takes in the full picture of your middle-of-the-night-breakdown decision.

He swallows, but his voice still sounds hoarse when he says, “Um, good. Looks neat.”

“Neat, huh?” you say, and run your hand over your head. That’s different, for sure. Gone is the length and weight around your shoulders, and when you shake your head like a wet dog you’ve never felt so unencumbered. Bucky laughs at your antics and you grin back, almost breathless, so enamoured with the cool waft of the aircon on your nearly exposed scalp and the absolute lack of anything to get in your way. You say, “Yeah, pretty fucking neat.”

“I liked your long hair,” Bucky says, and you almost frown until he adds, “But I like this, too. Maybe more. It feels nice.”

“Like a tennis ball,” you say, nodding solemnly.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Bucky says with an eyeroll, but you just grin. You rise onto your knees, crawling into Bucky’s lap before he can say anything and rubbing your head in his face like a deranged cat. He squawks and tries to lean away from you without also toppling over onto his back, and you just laugh. He grips your waist to stabilise you both and you settle a bit, letting your legs loop around his hips and your hands to rest on his shoulders.

“You think it feels nice,” you say, teasing lightly. Bucky makes to shove you off but you clench your thighs and hold on tight, all two-hundred pounds of Bucky no match for your stubborn idiot-streak. “You like it.”

“Said that, didn’t I? Turn your ears on,” Bucky says, but he’s blushing so you know you’ve won.

“You like me,” you say, and you grin, because you finally push Bucky over the line you always love to toe. Teasing Bucky is a sport and you’re the Olympic champion, the Usain Bolt - you win every time. Bucky growls and snaps a hand up to grip the back of your skull. You’re delighted to find his giant hand spans the entirety of the back of your scalp as he holds you in place. He scritches into the short hairs and you’re even more delighted at the feeling that zings down your spine to your cunt almost instantaneously.

“And you like that,” Bucky grins, all sharp teeth and dark eyes because he’s a devil and teasing you just so happens to be his Olympic gold as well. You make a sound almost like a groan, kind of like a purr, and nudge your head back into his hand some more so he keeps touching you like that.

“Don’t like you, though,” you say, breathless now so it doesn’t quite have the same impact. Bucky rocks you backwards, lying you flat so he can crawl on top of you despite the absolute carnage of your old hair littering the carpet and now, probably, all of your clothes. Good thing you won’t be needing those much longer.

“We’ll see about that,” Bucky says, and see about that you most definitely do.

#idk what this is or where it came from but here we are #i want to shave my head if you couldnt tell #drabbles #stareyedplanet

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hailbop1701 · 3 years

Text

ReaperXFemaleReader

Doom: To Hell And Back

Chapter 3: Lucy in the sky...

Hi guys! Chapter 3 all nice and long and done and edited. Thanks @thottiewithashotgun I freaking love you. <3 again if you would like to be tagged let me know!

“Open the door.”

At Sarge’s order, Portman and Goat moved through the large doorway. They were quiet for a moment before giving the all-clear. “Pinky, give us a schematic,” Sarge ordered into his comm.

“Uploading to you now,” Pinky said and a map popped up onto a screen on the wall beside you. “Carmack’s lab is isolated from the rest of the facility. The airlock is the only way in or out.”

“Goat, Portman: Genetics. Kid, Destroyer: Carmack’s office, where he sent the mayday from. Reaper, Crow, keep Dr. Grimm here safe on her salvage op. Duke and I’ll take the weapons lab, make sure all the hardware’s secure.” Sarge barked and nodded his head toward the door. “Portman, Goat, on you.”

Portman cleared the left, while Goat cleared the right. Portman snorted as we all passed the doorway and it shut with a hiss behind us. “Five bucks says this shit ain’t nothing but a disgruntled employee with a gun,” he said with a short laugh. You rolled your eyes but kept your mouth shut. “Fluorescent markings as rooms are cleared. Go.” Sarge ordered glaring at Portman’s back.

Reaper took point and you took the rear, with Dr. Grimm in the middle. Your eyes darted around, looking at everything. The hall was dark, the power was obviously on auxiliary. The lights that weren’t broken already, flickered causing a creepy ambiance. Coming up to a door, Reaper nodded to you and you moved forward, keeping Dr. Grimm outside as Reaper cleared the room. “All clear,” he called out.

You and the good Doctor entered the room and she went straight for a computer terminal. “How much time you gonna need?” Reaper asked his eyes on her. She looked up, “Thirty minutes, tops,” she said looking back down at her work. You wandered the room looking at all of its contents. It looked like anything you’d find in the back of a museum. A couple of books lay open on a table and you read them with interest.

Reaper glanced over at you as you read through the book that sat on the table in front of you. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you said dryly without looking up. Reaper sighed and shifted looking away. You looked up at this and cocked your head to the side, “Reaper, say what’s on your mind before you brood harder.” you said, leaning against the tabletop. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Dr. Grimm smirk. Reaper gave you a half-hearted glare, “Sarge said you were a quarantine expert.” he said, turning to face you fully.

You nodded, a frown coloring your features. “My unit had been on point with a few quarantines. Me being the medic, my job was to help clear infected areas. Clear and examine the remains. One of the reasons they call me Crow. Crows tend to circle when death is near.” you said with a shrug, looking away from Reaper toward the books again. The silence was tense before Reaper broke it.

“You had to separate families, put them down when needed,” he said and you flinched at his words. “John!” Dr. Grimm scolded. You gave a sad smile and shook your head “No, it’s okay. He’s right; when we cleared houses sometimes they contained people infected who were still alive but too far gone to save. I would make them comfortable and sit with them until they’ve passed.” you said giving Reaper a small smile.

Reaper sighed, “It was the kindest thing you could do for them.” he said shifting looking uncomfortable. “ So ‘Reaper’? As in ‘Grimm’?” Dr. Grimm asked mildly amused. Reaper rolled his eyes, “ They’re Marines, Sam, not poets.” he drawled. You snorted and wandered over to some skeletal remains. It appeared to be female; she was stuck shielding her child; pain etched on her face. You furrowed your brow at the site; ‘what was she protecting her child from?’

“Holy shit!” Reaper called out from behind you. You glanced over your shoulder to see Reaper looking at the remains surprised. “Oh yeah, meet Lucy. Lucy, this is my brother, John, another creature from the long lost past.”

You chuckled, “You found human remains?” Reaper asked incredulously. “Humanoid.” both you and Dr. Grimm corrected. “I bet that was a happy surprise, Dr. Grimm,” you say with a smile. “Sam, please.”

You nodded and she continued almost excitedly, “ Lucy and her child were our first major find. We’re bringing out more every day.”

“You re-opened the dig?” Reaper asked, sounding pissed. ‘Well there’s something going on here that I don’t know about.’ you thought and watched the two siblings argue like it was a tennis match.

“I know I should have told you. I didn’t figure it was the sort of thing I could jot down on a yearly birthday card. It’s been stabilized.” Sam said.

“Bullshit.”

Sam stood up looking as angry as her brother now, “You wanna talk about safe? Like you took a desk job? I’m a forensic archeologist, John. I’ll go where the work is.” she said evenly.

‘Point, set, match. Sam one, Reaper zero.’ you thought more amused at the argument than you should be.

“Is that the reason you’re up here?” Reaper asked coldly. “You wanna know why I’m up here? I’ll show you. Come here.” Sam said, walking back over to the terminal. She plugged a hard drive in and tapped at the keys. Reaper walked over and you with him; the curiosity was just too much sometimes.

“This Lucy’s chromosome profile. Notice anything?” Sam asked smugly. You gasped and leaned in closer. “No fucking way,” you mutter astounded at what was on the screen. “My molecular genetics is a little rusty.” Reaper said dryly. “What’s the first thing Dad taught us to look for?” Sam asked patiently. Reaper squinted at the screen and frowned; you couldn’t help but smile. ‘He got it.’ you thought impressed.

“She’s got 24 pairs of chromosomes. Humans only have 23. - But what does the extra pair do?” he asked almost awed. Sam shrugged, “Makes her superhuman. The extra pair makes her super strong, super fit, super intelligent. Her cells divide 50 times faster, meaning she heals almost instantly. The fossil record indicates these people had conquered disease. We found no genetic disorders, no viruses, no cancers.”

“So what, they were just naturally superior?” Reaper asked, crossing his arms. Sam shook her head, “No. Not naturally. See, the earliest remains we found only had 23. We suspect this extra chromosome may be synthetic.” she said you sigh frowning. ‘Well the remains make sense now, sort of.’ you thought with a wince.

“Bioengineered?” Reaper asked disapprovingly. Sam looked amused now, “That’s a long word for a Marine.” she said with a smirk. Reaper scoffed and turned away looking at Lucy again. Sam bit her lip, “ Does it ever bother you, you could’ve spent your life looking in a microscope instead of a sniper scope?”

Reaper ignored the question with one of his own, “ If they were so smart, how come they’re so dead?” Sam shrugged again, “ We don’t know. Maybe they just went with time.” she said a bit sadly. Reaper looked at his sister shaking his head, “You don't shield a baby from time.” he said, pointing out what she wanted to ignore.

“Crow, what do you think?” Sam asked genuinely wanting your opinion. You winced slightly at the name, “Call me (Y/N). I uh, have to agree with Reaper on this one.” you said, walking closer to them. You bent over a little to get a closer look at the set of remains. “ I don’t care where you’re from or if you think it could cure everything. Becoming something better before you’re ready can cause a lot of problems. Creating a super serum; it’s never had the best track record. And by the look on Lucy’s face...well I guess they paid the price for it. I just hope we won’t have to make the same mistakes.” you whispered and glanced up at the two siblings. Sam thinned her lips and furrowed her brow. Reaper was about to add something else when your comms. blew up with noise. Gunfire and the words “Contact!” You and Reaper looked at each other for just a moment before sprinting towards the door. “ Moving east through Carmack’s office! Fast!” Sarge’s voice boomed through your earpiece. “Confirmed contact. Moving fast, over south corridor.”

You and Reaper skidded to a halt, aiming your weapons at a lone figure standing in the corner. The man growled at you all, clutching onto a severed arm; you locked eyes with Sarge for a second silently asking to move in and check on him. He hesitated for the briefest of moments before nodding his approval. You swung your rifle onto your back and slowly moved forward, your hands up. “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you.” you whispered sweetly. The deranged man growled but not as forcefully.

You edged even closer, making sure your hands are in his sight at all times. He dropped the arm and crouched, pulling his arms against his chest. “Lemme just take a quick look at you. It’s okay.” you soothed. Someone behind you cocked their gun and the mad Doctor hissed. You froze for a moment and continued when his eyes locked back onto you. The sound of rushing footsteps didn’t stop you from crouching in front of the man. You look him over and began to catalogue his injuries.

“Sam, I told you to stay-” Reaper hissed quietly. “But he knows me, John. Dr. Carmack, it’s me. Samantha. That person next to you is (Y/N). Where are the others? Where are they? Steve, Hillary. I’m not gonna hurt you.” Sam said inching closer. You held up a hand to stop Sam and she slowed, but it was too late. Too many people were crowding around him. Dr. Carmack flung his hand to his ear; with a twist and a strong pull it came off. He threw it to the floor and Sam gave a startled scream of “Jesus Christ!”

“Fuck.” you muttered and quickly pulled out a packet of gauze from the bag on your left thigh. You tore it open and gently pressed it onto Carmack’s left ear. The man looked at you but didn’t protest; you gave him a sweet smile and slowly stood up with him in tow.

Portman laughed saying, “Nice!” and the Kid looked grossed out, ready to blow chunks then and there. The rest of the unit only looked mildly disturbed. You sighed not batting an eye, “Now, who wants to be a gentleman and help me get him to the infirmary?”

Duke immediately held up a hand. “Lady’s got a pair.” Destroyer said impressed. “Oh sweetie, you’ve seen nothing yet.” you teased, gently easing your head out of Cormack’s reach.

He seemed to like your hair.

@thottiewithashotgun

@dw-writes

@lauraaan182

@marvelouslytrekking

#doom 2005 #reaper x reader #slow burn #john grimm #reader insert #ReaperXFemaleReader #karl urban #john grimm x reader

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yikesharringrove · 4 years

Text

I’m a day late, but Happy Trans Billy Week!

Day 5: Modern!au

@transbillyhargrove @blurbwitch

Harringrove

Wanted to finish the week strong and kinda figured many folks could use some fanfic pick me up these days.

Here’s a link to my blm requests post.

So, I had this idea a little while ago, bc pride is soon, and this was going to be my first pride since actually accepting my queerness. I understand putting safety above celebration, though.

Billy is ftm, Steve is nb amab

“Are you seriously wearing that.” Steve was in nothing but a pair of tiny shorts and tennis shoes.

Sure, Pride was where you got to let it all hang out, so to speak, but Steve was dangerously close to actually letting it all hang out.

Billy was wearing slightly more tasteful shorts, had slit the sides of his tanktop. Wanted to show off his scars, just about a year healed.

“Oh, it’s fine.” They were currently using glitter to paint an agender flag on their chest. “It’s Pride! I wanna look good.” They had put on a full face of makeup, had sprayed the shit out of it with setting and hair spray, grinned at Billy and said don’t wanna melt out there.

Steve was clipping a fanny pack over their hips, gave Billy a dorky little thumbs up.

It felt like the hottest day of the fucking year.

It was at least a hundred as they found a spot close to the beginning of the parade. They wanted to duck in and march with some friends on a float for one of the good queer bars downtown.

Steve kept threatening to pole dance if there was one on the float.

“Jesus Christ. I get you one lesson for your birthday.”

“Okay, I’m so sorry that my health and fitness routine contains sexy dancing. My apologies.” Billy just rolled his eyes, put his arms around Steve middle and leaned into them.

“Hey, I’m with the Chicago Pride Center, I just snapped this picture of you two and I was wondering if I could get your permission to use it. You just look really sweet.” Someone was standing on the opposite side of the barricade, holding up a nice camera. She was wearing a volunteer shirt, had a Lesbians Against Bastard Cops pin on her camera strap. “It’ll be on our website, and social media and stuff. Is that okay?” She leaned over, showing them the picture.

Billy was wrapped around Steve, had this grumpy look on his face while Steve was looking over at him, was just laughing.

“Yeah, we look hot.” Steve winked at Billy.

“Could I grab names and pronouns?” She held out a little notepad to them, had written 74-77 above where they wrote their names. Three years after coming out, after beginning his transition, and Billy still got a little zip every time he got to write the name Billy Hargrove.

The float ended up having a fucking pole. Steve just grinned, threw their little fanny pack at Billy and started climbing.

#yikes writes #Trans Billy Week 2020 #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #trans billy hargrove #trans steve harrington #non binary steve harrington #harringrove fic #harringrove drabble #harringrove ficlet #trans!billy #nonbinary!steve

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patchoulimademoiselle · 4 years

Text

Bat Shit Crazy (Part 1)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings: language, sub/dom dynamic, large age gap, smut, choking kink, violence/fighting, injuries/blood, hypersexual reader, mentions of death?

Summary: Bucky is back from a mission he was sent on without you. He works hard to get you back on your routine.

Notes: This fic is dark, and it only gets darker. This is more Winter Soldier Bucky in terms of behavioral traits and dynamics with other characters. This is not a soft lovey dovey style fic, and if that bothers you DO NOT READ.

Masterlist

Part One:

The night is young, the summer air is humid, you've swapped out your jeans for a pair of fray end shorts, tennis shoes scuffing against the pavement as you shuffle your feet, waiting.

You've been craving a bit of freedom, some wind in your hair, something intoxicating in your system, and that led you right to Tony Stark. You batted your eyelashes the best you could, pretty please, can we borrow your car for the night? Honestly, you don't have a plan. All you know is that you feel suffocated sitting around on base. You feel old, tired, missing and craving the feeling of adrenaline in your veins.

So as soon as the jet returns to HQ, you're grabbing Bucky by the collar of his shirt and dragging him out to the sight of a bright orange Audi that makes him groan in disbelief. A knowing look graces his features, and he almost feels bad for the guy. Because if there's anything you're good at, it's getting your way, and Bucky had basically signed himself up for it. But Stark? He had no idea what you were truly capable of.

"I'm not going to ask how you managed to get it," He says, hand catching your waist and pulling you to stop before you can get inside, "But I am going to ask, where are we going?"

He's still in his tactical gear, a gun on his hip, dirt and blood smeared across his skin, he smells like gun powder and sweat, and you can't resist the urge to just kiss him. So you do, hands in his hair, pulling him down into a searing kiss that pulls a strangled sound from the back of his throat. He hasn't seen you in days, and he's more exhausted than he's used to being. But he can tell you're restless, the chaos in your bones convincing you to basically seduce Stark and take his car to do who knows what in the cover of night. He's just glad that you decided to bring him along.

"For a ride." Is all you offer, letting him hike your leg up around his waist. "I missed you."

"I know." His voice sounds wrecked, laced with exhaustion and arousal, and you almost feel bad for keeping him up even longer, because who knows what he just came back from. But you're too excited to turn back now, dangling the keys in front of his face, his grin just as wicked as yours as he kisses you one last time.

"I want to go first, you can drive on the way back."

When you get in the drivers seat and press the button to start the engine, you get why people collect cars like this. The feeling of power, the sense of danger, it's intoxicating, and you start to feel a little breathless when you rev the engine.

Bucky can see it click in your head, he can see the exact moment that you decide that this might be taking it too far.

There's a wicked glint in your eyes when you turn to look at him. "Oh," You laugh, "I've created a monster."

His eyebrows furrow, fingers wrapping around your wrist to pull you away from the wheel, half bent over the console. "I would prefer it if you didn't get us both killed, so you take it easy, understand?" Because he knows. He knows you could say fuck it all just for the thrill of it.

You click your tongue, "You're no fun." You pout, watching as his eye twitches, a weakness, "But that's okay. I'm sure you'll figure out how to make it up to me."

He smiles at that, and you aren't sure if it's pride or love that has him grabbing your chin and forcing you to look in his eyes. You're a smart mouthed fool, and he knows that you probably got most of your attitude from him. "What am I going to do with you?"

"You can start with fucking me on every surface of this car before we give it back tomorrow morning."

He hums, kissing you once, twice, unable to pull away because he likes the look in your eyes, he likes that you're this comfortable with him, young and wild and trusting him not to judge you. It's harmless fun, he understands, the tedious schedule you follow everyday is eating away at your youth. So he indulges you, letting you put the windows down and drive just a little more recklessly than he should.

The shriek of laughter that comes from your throat is worth the risk, his hand gripping your thigh, watching as you change your grip on the steering wheel. The wind blows your hair, flushes your cheeks, and its a reflex more than anything else when he fishes his phone out to take a picture of you.

This is what you both live for. Moments like this where nothing else matters. You have each other, you've found a perfect medium between work and play, and it works out better than you could have ever imagined.

Keeping up with you is like pulling teeth sometimes, because Bucky just doesn't care as much as you do. He figured that you would be better suited with someone who is equally as high maintenance as you, someone like Tony Stark. The expensive taste and busy schedule could only be understood by someone who lives that lifestyle.

But behind the perfume and lip gloss, beneath the eyelash extensions and layers of designer clothing, chaos awaits. It makes you reckless.

You're hot headed, quick to pull a trigger and abuse your power before the chance can be taken from you. Steve had tried to train you first, but all attempts made to domesticate you failed, the restlessness within you wired deep within your bones, and so you were passed on to Bucky. Because there's a part of Bucky that craves chaos just like you do, the only difference is that he's learned to control it rather than have it control him. You were pushed right into his arms, and it was only a matter of time before he left and impression on you.

The devilment you shared made him putty in your hands. He saw himself in you, a pretty head plagued with torturous thoughts, a pretty girl ruined by this job, and so he trained you accordingly. He told you that there was a trick to it, that he never learned to tame the darkness within him, he just learned to suppress and channel it at the right time, finding constructive outlets rather than being a fucking brat all the time. He could actually handle you, and love hit you hard. You've been inseparable ever since.

Steve was concerned with how quickly your relationship developed, Tony called you both crazy, and Natasha, she may or may not be a bad influence on you. You're a killer, he's a killer, it's like you were made for each other.

But that part of you never went away, and it's times like these that it starts to become a test of his patience.

Eventually, you find yourself at a park, and Bucky is beyond confused when you park the car and actually turn it off. You meant it when you said you just wanted to go for a drive. It's too late to find anything open, he's too tired to go too far, and you would rather sit and star gaze with him rather than do anything to piss him off.

But first, he fucks you. Hard. On every surface, just like you asked. He pulls you over the console, flips your shirt up and presses your tits against the dash, fucking up into you with a strength that you realize you've missed these past three days. Then he gets out, an arm secured around your waist to hold you up as he rounds the car and places you on the hood, palms flat against the polished paint as he continues to fuck you.

It's obscene, your body caving under his weight, cheek pressed flat against the cool metal when he grips the back of your neck, arching you against him further. God, he missed you. You take him so well, always such a good girl for him, and he tells you that, lips pressed against your ear as he grinds his cock into you, and the only response you can give is a moan.

Then he's in the front seat, hands tight on your hips as you ride him, and you could have sworn the car seemed bigger until you found yourself in this position, back arched against the wheel so that you don't hit your head.

He forces you to look him in the eyes, grabbing your throat and tilting your head up, leaving you to find your own rhythm. The muscles in his arm strain at the restraint, because you slow down to a teasing pace, the look in his eyes becoming dangerous as you test his patience, and it doesn't take long for him to grab you up and turn you around, pushing the seat back as far as it goes and pounding you against the soft leather. He's relentless, hips slapping against your ass at a speed that your brain can't keep up with, and you're coming before your body has a chance to warn you.

He comes inside of you soon after, locking your body to his as if you'll disappear, and it makes you wonder what happened while he was gone.

You pull a bottle of liquor from the glove box, he pulls your shorts back up, and together you deposit your tired bodies on the swing set a few feet away. He tells you everything, sharing swigs of whiskey, eyes dancing between you and the night sky above you.

It was supposed to be recon, supposed to be a simple in and out. But Steve fucked up, stepped on a trip wire and gave them away. They had to fight their way out, didn't even get any intel besides the fact that whoever the fuck it was knew that they were coming. Or at least, they were expecting someone to come eventually.

It makes you wish you were there, because Steve wouldn't have been able to fuck up, it's you who goes out on those types of missions with Bucky. You two just work better together, something that maybe now Steve Rogers might finally come to understand. But you were told, more like ordered to sit this one out, and neither of you say it, but you both register at the same time that it was a mistake.

You drink more than you should, the bottle half empty by the time he decides to cut you off. But you don't let it ruin your fun, kicking your legs as hard as you can, the swing lifting higher than the bars that hold it, and for a moment it feels like you're flying before gravity takes over and yanks you back down. But Bucky doesn't let you jostle yourself around too much, arm reaching out to grab the chain of your swing, slowing your speed.

"We shouldn't stay out long." He says. "We need to get up early." You raise an eyebrow in question, he does the same. "Don't act brand new. You do this every time I leave. You fall off your routine and we have to work twice as hard for a couple days to get you back on it."

It makes you groan, makes him grab you by the arm and pull you to sit on his lap, kissing your cheek when you lean your head back against his shoulder.

You don't say anything, because there isn't anything else to say. He's back, he's here with you again and you couldn't ask for anything more than that.

But he seems to have too much on his mind, taking swig after swig until the bottle is empty and there's nothing left to distract him. "Don't do this again." He says. "I'll buy you a car if that's what you want, but don't you ever run to another man before coming to me." You aren't sure if this is an insecurity, or if he's simply being possessive, but either way you take too long to respond, his hands clamping down on your thighs in a grip that has you arching up off his lap to relieve the pressure. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes, fuck."

"Good." He kisses the corner of your mouth this time, smoothing his palms against your skin to soothe the ache he's caused. "Where did you get these shorts from?"

"College."

Your response raises a question in his head, how can you still fit them? But he realizes immediately that college was only a year ago for you, a harsh reminder of your age compared to his, and he simply hums in reply.

The air grows too cold for you to handle, shivering in his arms despite the warmth running through your veins, and he makes the call to wrap it up. But not before he kisses you first, turning you around on his lap and tugging you against his lips by a harsh grip in your hair. You don't get to have many moments like these, so you cherish it, kissing him as long as he needs you to, enjoying the chill that snakes up your spine when his hands round your ass and deposit under your thighs, hoisting you up.

He settles you in the passenger seat, eager for his turn at driving the car, and you could care less given your sudden exhaustion. You admire the way he looks, jaw clenched, muscles taught, arm flexing as he palms the steering wheel, a hand on your head rest as he glances back to reverse the car. His hair is loose for a change, framing his face and whipping back and forth each time he turns his head.

He could use a trim, but you know he'll never let you.

He doesn't lose his mind driving like you did, remaining at a reasonable speed, turning on the radio to keep his mind busy since you aren't doing much entertaining. He doesn't blame you, he's tired too, and you had been waiting up to greet him when he got back.

You start to doze off, the blur of lights and buildings putting your mind at ease. It's not until Bucky's hands are on you again that you realize you fell asleep, which is a bummer, because you won't have this car again come noon.

"I want you to get me pregnant in this car."

He snorts, ignoring your antics entirely, reaching over to unfasten your seatbelt.

He tries to carry you, but you don't let him, settling for holding his hand instead. The compound is quiet except for the sound of the tv on low in the common room, Clint passed out on the couch, the movie he had been watching probably long gone off by now.

It makes you smile, stopping to place a blanket on him. He doesn't move a muscle, and Bucky grows impatient waiting for you, so you carry on. In the privacy in your room, you step your way out of your shoes and kick them into the corner by the door, then you help him out of his gear.

You find a stab wound on his stomach, it's long stopped bleeding by now, not at all infected, and it's already starting to heal. He says nothing, your warm fingers brushing his skin and something domestic washes over you both. It's something soft and unspoken, something the lines of I'm glad your safe.

The tile on the floor is cold beneath your feet, you lead him into the bathroom and run a bath for him, despite his protests of you being too tired. You watch as the water turns milky with dirt and blood, fingertips against his scalp as you clean his hair. It's a side of you that he doesn't see too often, a softer side that you bury under attitude and attention seeking mischief, and at this point he doesn't know which version of you he appreciates more.

You lather a sponge with body wash, a cedar scent you learned to love on him, and you wash him gently, carefully, mindful of his bruising. His wet hands are on your face, pulling you in for an occasional kiss, and it seems that he just can't keep his hands off of you.

He fucks you again, but it's different this time, softer, slower, his eyes locked on yours, fingers gentle just like you were for him, and you feel it in your heart when he tells you he loves you. He fucks you to sleep and tucks you into bed, limbs tangled with yours to keep you close.

He'll never bring it up, but he wasn't sure if he would make it back to you this time. He sleeps better than he had in days knowing that you're close.

It makes getting you up in the next morning is hard. You're a heavy sleeper, something Bucky was always thankful for on nights where he struggled to settle beside you. But when it's time to wake you up, he curses your ability to still sleep soundly like a baby after all the things you've seen, he envies it. He wants to let you sleep in, he wants to stay in bed with you, holding you, because who knows if he'll ever be able to do it again.

But he has to keep things normal. He has to keep you on your routine, otherwise you'll give in to your madness.

You think you're dreaming it, his hands on your side, his lips on the side of your face. You just can't bring yourself to open your eyes, exhaustion keeping it's hold on you. But Bucky is determined, a bit rough as he tugs you to lay on your back, your eyes flying open at being jostled, and he doesn't look apologetic as he smiles down at you.

"Hey, peach." He kisses you quickly, leaving nothing to soothe you back to sleep. "Time to get up."

His voice is hoarse, you realize, he's tired, too tired for your liking, and you wonder how long he's been up.

"A few more minutes?" You pout, curling your body around his, and you can tell he's on the verge of saying yes. "Please?"

But his will is far too strong. "You need to get up." He says, "Now."

And just like that, you're pissed, a sour attitude shifting your expression entirely, and he could care less, standing up to give you room to move. You have a dull headache, a hangover no doubt, but you ignore it as you dig through your dresser for workout clothes to change into.

He shakes his head at you, sensing your attitude, but he doesn't say a word as you stomp your way over to the door, pulling it open hard enough to bang against the wall. It's okay, he knows what you need, and he's been itching to give it to you.

When it comes to training, Bucky tends to be harsher on you, because he knows you can take it. It's the textbook definition of tough love, pushing you beyond your limits to make you better. It's the kind of training that leaves you sore and exhausted and covered in bruises, busted lips, black eyes, you aren't new to any of it. In fact, you're used to the feeling, and that's something most people would find scary. But you need it to stay sane, a distraction from everything else. You like when he pushes you beyond your limits.

You warm up with a jog around the compound grounds, the sun hasn't come up yet, the air crisp and cool and burning your lungs with each inhale you take. He reminds you to breathe slowly, in your nose and out your mouth in pace with each foot fall. He quickly realizes that your endurance has fallen low, his hand on your back to push you to run faster.

He doesn't take it easy on you, not even when you collapse into the ground, your body forcing you to take a break from running.

"Get up."

Your lungs burn, your face is hot, your legs are jelly, you shake your head.

"Look at you, you can't even speak and you have to nerve to slack off." He glares down at you, hands on his hips. "Get the fuck up before I drag you across the concrete."

His threat is very real, so you struggle to rise back to your feet. He continues on, super soldier stamina has him not even breaking a sweat, and you curse the cheating serum coursing through his veins.

"You're cheating, you have an advantage." You pant, fingers barely catching his arm to try and keep up. "I can't go as fast as you for that long."

He slows just a little, your hand wrapping around his bicep. "Which is why I push you. Your muscles won't ever grow past the strain if you don't experience it." He says. "Shape up, we're almost done."

He allows you a five minute break, which you spend chugging as much water as he'll let you have, laying on the floor of the gym to try and catch your break and give your muscles a break.

He starts you on the treadmill, pushing up the incline every ten minutes, and you can feel the strain it's putting you under. You haven't done this in days, and the alcohol that remains in your system doesn't help. You're just thankful that no one else is in the gym to witness your struggle.

Next is ab workouts, he joins you for this one, side by side on the mat as he walks you through each exercise. He flies through them with ease, hardly breaking a sweat. But you on the other hand feel winded, muscles aching as you use them beyond what you have been. He watches, carefully, a knowing look on his face when you start to lose your speed, but he doesn't let you stop.

This is what you need. An outlet, something to exhaust your energy and take the edge off. For the most part it helps. But there's only so much he can do to keep you occupied, so when he has you here in the gym, he makes it count.

He has you on weights, which turns your body numb, and you aren't sure what kind of damage it's doing, but you know that you'll be sore for the next couple of days.

He lets you take a break after an hour, you drink as much water as you can, eager to be away from his scrutinizing gaze, and you find Natasha returning from a morning run with Steve. They look like they haven't done anything a all, but the smell of outside and sweat tells you otherwise.

Natasha has the nerve to smile at you, recognizing the winded look on your face, and she settles next to you in the kitchen, hand on her hip as she drinks from a water bottle.

"I tried to warn you," She says, "He's kicking your ass, isn't he?"

She did try, you'll give her the credit, knocking on your door every day he was gone to at least get you to come out for a jog. But you refused, anticipating this intensity, and while you'll never admit that to her, she assumes you enjoy the torture.

"It's embarrassing." You say. "Even after all this time, he can wipe the floor with me if he wanted to."

She laughs at that, a twinkle in her eye that hints at the history she shares with him. "Yeah. You and me both." Her smile is far from innocent. "But I'm sure you give him a run for his money."

Your grin is wicked, "You can bet your perky little ass I do."

Your relationship with Natasha is complicated. Sometimes she's the older sister you always wished you had. Other times she's the extravagant aunt who teaches you the life lessons your mother was too modest to. Then sometimes, it's hard to tell, she's just an attractive woman admiring another attractive woman, someone with experience gravitating to someone who doesn't, because it's in her nature to enjoy the power play. If you had to guess, Natasha would bend you over the counter if she had the opportunity, just like anyone else living here in the compound. But she respects your privacy, respects the strange relationship you have with a man who is just as deadly as she is, and settles for the mischief you create together instead.

It's fun to feed into it, you always had a knack for sticking your fingers into flames, and sometimes you hold it over Bucky's head. Like last night, you didn't tell him what you did to convince Tony to let you borrow his car, but it's implied in your nature. You tend to be a bit hyper sexual, another trait that sometimes proves to be a pain in the ass. But Bucky has something to handle that too, and sometimes, at times like this, he lets you off your tight leash.

"Who's ass is perky?" He had been watching, of course he had, and the look on Natasha's face tells you that she knew it too.

"Depends on who you ask." You quip, flashing him an innocent smile. "Yours is, mine is, and hers," You spare a glance at Natasha, "Well, you would know, wouldn't you?"

He rolls his eyes, because you already know the answer to what you're implying. Nothing ever happened between him an Natasha. If anything were to happen, it would have been long ago, before they had both reformed themselves into the people they are now. He told you that, confessed his entire life to you, so he knows this is just your way of trying to get him worked up.

"Don't drag me into this." Natasha waves a finger between you both. "Whatever this is, I want no part." Her eyes settle on you. "I also suggest you cool it, because I'm joining you, and I don't want to be forced around awkward sexual tension."

You look at Bucky, raising an eyebrow. He only shrugs. "Steve too." He says. "I figured you needed a change in pace, you're too used to me now, you could use a different perspective."

Your break is obviously over, Natasha follows you as you walk out of the kitchen. "Yeah," She says. "Perspective."

The mood changes drastically, all playfulness gone from her when you step on the sparing mat together. To put it simply, she kicks your ass. You put up a good fight though, you actually managed to make her bleed, but in the end, she's too on top of her training schedule for you to find a weakness. That's the point Bucky was trying to make to you. You know him and his tactics, you know how hard he hits, you know where he'll strike, all you have to do is avoid it and expect it. But with an opponent you've never faced before, you're far too weak at the moment to properly defend yourself.

The next time you hit the mat is your last, nose colliding with the floor, blood gushing, a grunt coming from you that actually manages to distract your boyfriend who stands feet away, sparing with Steve.

You pinch your nose like you've been taught, instantly feeling that it isn't broken, and Natasha has helped you up by the time Bucky makes his way over.

He's actually sweating, panting hard as he takes your chin in his hand, examining your face. "You'll be fine." He says, glancing at Natasha. He nods to her, and you aren't sure what it is, approval, dismissal? "Hit the showers." He says to you, "You're done for now."

For now, there will be more later after lunch you're sure. You leave with Natasha, who reminds you to keep your head tilted, her arm linked with yours as she walks with you to the infirmary. The nurse on duty clogs your nose with gauze, telling you what you already know. It's not broken, but it will be bruised, and after the bleeding stops you need to rinse your nose clear of the blood. Until then, breathe out your mouth, and be cautious of blood that may trickle to the back of your throat.

"Want to step out with me?" Natasha meets you back in the kitchen after you both shower, her hair dark and dripping, and for a moment you think she's kidding.

Your body is starting to bruise, knuckles scraped and angry, nose bloody. But she simply stares at you expectantly, waiting for your answer.

"Okay."

You take her Camero, she lets you drive, and it turns out it's just a grocery run. She wants to cook lunch, macaroni salad, and you both do a bit of personal shopping while you're out. After getting the ingredients, you both occupy the kitchen to make it. It doesn't take too long, but the serving size is large considering how many people will want to eat it.

Tony comes to find you in search of food, and he asks you about his car, a strange smell that he can't quite place. Liquor, sex, sweat? It could be anything, but you decide to play dumb instead, biting your tongue as you smile at him and suggest he go get it detailed.

While the macaroni chills in the fridge, Bucky comes to find you carrying fresh gauze and an alcohol wipe. He gives you his protein shake, chocolate flavored, and you sip from it eagerly. His hands are gentle as he pulls the blood soaked gauze from your nose and you take a deep breath, feeling the dried blood and soreness from the impact.

He applies pressure to the bridge of your nose, stopping when you wince, humming low in his throat as he leans down to kiss you. "It'll be a nasty bruise," He says, "But you deserve it, you fucking brat."

You imagine his opinion will change when the skin on your nose starts to discolor, but for now, he feels proud of himself. You let him have it.

He wipes your nose gently, hand on your throat to tilt your head back, he points the corners of the alcohol wipe and wipes the inside of your nose, eyebrows knit in concentration, and you take the opportunity to feel him up.

Your hands slide under his shirt, the skin is smooth where his stab wound was last night, and once again you're amazed by his abilities. "Did you have fun beating up someone other than me for once?"

His lip quirks up in a half smile, "Nah." He says. "It's not as satisfying."

You smile despite yourself, wrapping your arms around his waist. "What about you?" He asks. "Did you find anything interesting while your head was up Nat's ass?"

"Jealous?"

His grip on your throat shifts, "If I were, this would be a very different situation for you."

He knows you're his, there's nothing to argue, nothing to worry about, even if the entire compound wants to rearrange your guts. A pretty young thing like you, he doesn't blame them. But they wouldn't be able to handle you, you wouldn't enjoy it, and it would send you right back to him.

You both know it.

"You're so scary." You kiss him then, silencing whatever remark he had for you, eyes slipping closed as he tilts his head against yours, cautious of your nose. He tastes like chocolate, and sweat, slipping from your arms to take a shower.

When he returns, the salad has cooled enough to eat, and naturally, Clint already has a mouthful before anyone else can get their hands on it. He too has just returns from a workout, his sweats drenched, Bucky crinkles his nose, scowls at the amount of people occupying the kitchen and opts for lurking in the hall, watching as you portion out bowls for everyone, including him.

He's amazed at your cooking skills, the two of you tucked away out back with bowls of macaroni salad, enjoying the breeze in the shade. You beam at his praise, smiling over a mouthful of food, but it doesn't last long, his finger reaching out to poke your noise.

Don't look too proud of yourself, he says, this isn't approved in your diet plan.

Yeah well, screw him and the diet plan.

He makes you run after lunch, a water bottle in your hand because he isn't going to let you stop for breaks, the only water you can have is what you can hold.

It's cruel, the sun high in the sky and beating down on you with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe, let alone run. But you manage, a familiar exhaustion washing over you as you push your body for the third time today.

He makes you a protein shake, joins you for your second shower of the day, and then he drags you to bed.

"All your hard work means nothing if you don't give yourself a chance to recover." He whispers in your ear, lips pressed to your skin, his arm cold against your side when he spoons you. "I know you're tired, peach. You did good today, now rest."

It makes it all worth it, the torture of exercise, the agonizing exhaustion he puts you through. Getting to lay here like this, the comfort of his closeness, a vulnerability that only you have been allowed to see.

You turn, sealing your lips against his in a sloppy kiss, one that has no real effort behind it but has all the desperation in the world. It makes his grip tighten at your waist, his other hand slipping down to yank your panties to the side.

"Okay, you can sleep after this."

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ridiculousn3sswrites · 4 years

Text

Soccer Mom

*Thor x Reader

*Summary: Thor decides to volunteer as coach for your daughter’s soccer team. He’s a huge hit with the kids.

*Warnings: None, I think. Let me know if I missed anything.

*A/N: Okay so I saw a post about Thor coaching a little girls’ sports team and this was born. Featuring Assistant Coach Peter Parker and Good Uncle Loki. Also I used to play soccer when I was little and the only thing I really remember is orange slices at half time.

My Ko-Fi if you want to support my writing

**********

When your daughter started getting to that age group when you start putting them in every activity to try it out, it was a wild ride. She tried gymnastics, basketball, tee ball, dance, cheer, and even tennis, before you reached something she genuinely liked: soccer. Once she joined the local soccer league, she quickly fell in love with the game. It only took a couple weeks before your family was drawn into the world of youth soccer. While you weren’t surprised at your daughter’s enthusiasm for the sport, you were surprised at your husband’s involvement in her newfound passion.

Thor always supported your daughter 100% with whatever she was interested in at the time, but with soccer it was a whole other level. He was the first to offer to take her to practice, staying the entire time to watch the drills her coach used. He practiced with her almost every day he wasn’t on missions, either at the park or the field outside the compound. As she got older and started rising divisions in the league, it became obvious your daughter was going to stick with soccer for a while.

“I should be a soccer coach,” Thor told you one night after you’d put Rose to bed. You stopped right by the couch, resting your head on his shoulder for a second while you thought about it. It was off-season but sign ups were coming up soon, so Rose had to figure out if she wanted to request one of her old coaches or just go with a random team. Trying to figure out her coaching situation never really mattered before, but now that she was actively competing, she needed a more permanent team.

“Will you have the time?” You asked, moving to sit next to him. While Thor was actively involved in your daughter’s hobby, he still went on missions that could take him away for weeks at a time. If he was still taking those missions while volunteering as a coach, who know how often he’d actually be available to coach. Thor reached over to take your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

“I can ask to just have short-term missions. Stark did that after he came back,” Thor said after a moment.

“I mean, that sounds like it should work. You should probably have an assistant coach just in case you can’t make it to games or practice,” you explained. “Peter would probably be up for it, he needs the community service hours and Steve never sends him on missions that are longer than a couple days.”

“Then I’ll ask the Spider Child tomorrow, and call Rose’s league after that.” From the smile on Thor’s face, you could tell he was excited. He loved spending time with Rose, and soccer was just another chance to bond. Thor would have to talk to Rose about it in the morning, but you had a feeling she wouldn’t disagree with having him coach, especially if Peter was the assistant coach.

Within a week everything was set up. Peter was more than enthusiastic when Thor asked him to be his assistant coach, seeing the opportunity to hang out with Thor and earn his community service hours. Thor called the league main office and told them he wanted to volunteer to be a coach, and even though they knew Thor, they emailed him the forms for him and Peter to fill out. Once those were filled out and background checks were run on the two as a formality, they were cleared to coach. Thor talked to Rose, and just as you expected, she was more than willing to be on her dad’s team.

**********

Thor and Peter were an immediate hit with Rose’s team. You didn’t know if the reason the group of ten-year-old girls took the sport so seriously was because they wanted to impress one sixteen-year-old Peter Parker or because Thor just inspired them that much, but when you watched them practice and have practice games, you were seriously impressed. Thor threw his everything into coaching, still running drills with Rose whenever he could, watching YouTube videos to get new ideas, and once when he was away on a mission, Loki sent you a picture of Thor reading a soccer coaching book on the quinjet.

After a few weeks of practices, the team’s first game was fast approaching. Her division didn’t play until Saturday afternoon, so you had time in the morning to get her ready. The three of you headed to the field half an hour before her game started, Thor wanting time for the team to warm up together. You took your camp chair (that you bought soon after Rose’s first ever game) and set up near the field. You weren’t quite sure which side the team would be on, but you could move it at any time.

Once the previous game finished and the team was allowed on the field to practice, you could feel that little brush of anxiety start. You didn’t know why you got a little pit of anxiety whenever you watched Rose’s games, but it was always there. As much as the league said the previous divisions were just about having fun and learning how to play the game, you knew Rose wanted to win, and you wanted Rose to win. That was just how these things were.

A few minutes before the game started, you noticed your brother-in-law walking over to the field, dressed in all black with sunglasses on. You waved to get his attention, and once he noticed you he gave you a wide smile. “She hasn’t started yet, has she?” Loki asked once he got close enough to you.

“No, they’re doing line up right now, I think,” you told him. “I didn’t know you were coming, I thought you were on a mission.”

Loki sat down in the grass next to your chair, aimlessly picking at the blades of grass. “I got back early, didn’t want to miss the first game of the new season.”

The game started soon after Loki arrived, both teams already racing up and down the field. You had to admit, you were impressed by how well the girls worked together, especially since about half of them only met three weeks ago when practice started. The game went on as these things normally do, the kids running up and down the field in an attempt to score something. When Rose was in the game, you made sure your attention was completely on her, but when she was sitting on the sidelines, you turned your attention to Thor and Peter. Both of them looked like excited kids, cheering on the girls as they played.

Before you knew it, it was halftime and the girls were all eating orange slices and drinking their Gatorades. You were talking to Loki about different things (mostly Rose’s activities since Loki had a soft spot for her despite what he might try to argue) when you noticed Thor coming over from the corner of your eye.

“Did you see? The team’s doing so good,” Thor gushed as soon as he was next to you. He immediately bent down to give you a hug and a quick kiss, the excitement practically rolling off of him in waves.

“Shouldn’t you be with the team?” Loki asked, looking up at his brother.

“It’s okay, Peter’s taking care of things.” A quick look over at the team showed Peter and the girls chattering away, some of them throwing their orange peels at him while they laughed. “They’re doing so good! Do you think they’re having fun?”

You gave Thor a fond smile; of course he was still worrying about whether or not the girls were having fun. “I’m sure they are, just look at them.”

Thor looked over at the team, seeing more orange peels being thrown at Peter. By the smile on Thor’s face, you knew he was reassured. Loki made a noise of disgust at the back of his throat. “I knew there was a reason I stopped hanging out with the two of you. Go back to your team, brother. Halftime’s almost over.”

Sure enough, the referee blew her whistle, giving the one minute warning. Thor pressed a kiss to the top of your head before going back to the team, immediately instructing them to pick up the orange peels. Or at least that was your guess from the way the team (and Peter) immediately started picking up the peels before getting called back for line up.

The second half of the game went much like the first, the girls running up and down the field, the ball moving just as fast. The game seemed to pass by in no time, the girls getting their first win of the season. It seemed to give them another burst of energy, everyone running to their parents with excitement at the win. Rose ran up to you and Loki, immediately running to hug her uncle, which you had to admit stung a little bit.

“Did you see my block? And Ella’s goal? And-”

“Yes, I was watching the entire game, little one,” Loki assured her. “You were really good.”

“We’re gonna go all the way to finals!” Rose said with finality, just as Thor and Peter came up with the chairs and Rose’s soccer bag.

“Hey, Mr. Loki!” Peter said with a bright smile. “What’d you think of the game?”

“Am I just not here?” You asked with a joking pout. “First my daughter, now Peter.”

“I noticed you.” Thor walked over to you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You ignored the noises of disgust coming from your brother-in-law and daughter as you stood and gave Thor a proper kiss. “Well, what’d you think of the game?”

“That question was addressed to me first,” Loki just had to remind you. You rolled your eyes. Before Loki could actually answer, though, one of Rose’s teammates (Ella?) ran up to your group.

“Hey Coaches, can Rose come with us to get hot dogs?” Ella(?) asked, pointing to a hot dog cart not too far from the other soccer games set up.

“Ooo, can we, Mr. Thor?” Peter asked, turning to him. The way he immediately turned into a little kid almost made you laugh. Thor turned to you with the same look on his face, and you just sighed.

“Why are you looking at me? You’re the coach.” With your ‘permission’ Thor picked up Rose and started in the direction of the rest of the team, Peter trailing close behind. You and Loki shared a look before following them.

**********

As the season went on, you could tell the girls absolutely loved their coaches. The little whispers you used to hear from the other parents started to die down as people got used to you all being there (Is that Thor? Why are the Avengers at a kids’ soccer game?). Thor and Peter were always there cheering the girls on to victory, and after the games, they’d buy hot dogs for all the girls from the little cart by the field. They’d all gather around on the grass, watching the older kids play as they ate. Once the hot dogs were gone, the girls would pick random flowers from the grass and just fill Thor and Peter’s hair with them. (There was once they convinced Loki to let them braid his hair, but it never happened again.)

You sat on the sidelines every game, with Loki showing up almost as often. You watched as the girls won almost every game, the games where they fell behind getting mysteriously rained out. You heard some whispers about what the cause could be, but no one would actually voice their thoughts to the refs or the league. Seasons only lasted a few months, but it always surprised you just how fast the season went. It seemed like just yesterday you were watching the first game of the season, and now the team (which they renamed The Valkyries) was headed into the playoffs.

“We play Wednesday at six,” Thor told you as soon as he hung up the phone. He’d been waiting for the call about the playoffs schedule, and the look on his face reminded you of Rose after her first win. You could tell Thor was insanely proud of the team and how far they’d come over the past few months.

“I’ll make sure I’m off work by then. But, babe, we need to set some ground rules for the playoffs,” you told him, motioning for him to sit down at the table.

“What do you mean?” He asked you. You really only had one rule, but it wasn’t like he had to know that at the moment.

“Just… don’t rain out the game if the girls fall behind.” Thor opened his mouth to argue but thought better of it not even a second later. “Yeah, we could all tell that wasn’t just ‘sudden showers.’”

“I promise I’ll allow the games to go on as they will,” Thor said, hand up as if he was swearing an oath. “I wouldn’t interfere with something so important to Rose.”

“Thank you. Now, should I call the parents or would you like to?” Thor gave you a little puppy dog look and you sighed. “Okay, give me the contact sheet.”

Game night quickly arrived, and Rose was a bundle of nervous energy the entire day. As soon as she got home from school, she went to her room to get ready for the game - which was just getting her uniform on and giving herself a pep talk in the mirror. By the time you were in the car, headed to the field, Rose was bouncing her leg nervously. Thor was uncharacteristically quiet, looking out the window as you drove.

The other girls and Peter were already at the field when you guys got there, and you could tell the others were just as nervous as Rose. Thor motioned for the team to huddle together while one of the higher divisions finished up their game. “Okay, girls, I want to say how incredibly proud I am of you all for making it this far. You’ve worked hard to get here, and no matter the outcome of this match, no one can take that work from you. I want you all to go out there and play your best so you can go on to play another game.”

“He’s gotten quite good at that. You think he’s been learning from Rogers?” Loki’s quip made you jump. You never saw him arrive, let alone walk up next to you.

“Parker, do you want to say anything to the team?” Thor asked the teen, who was clutching the team clipboard in a deathgrip. You wondered how nervous he’d be if he’d actually been playing.

“Y-yeah, Mr. Thor. You guys have been, like, really good, I know you can do this. Even if we don’t win, it’s been a ton of fun working with you guys, so just go out there, play hard, and have fun,” Peter finished his speech with a shy smile, and you swore you saw some of the girls going giddy over it.

The field cleared out and the field size was fixed for the age group, and the girls started their warm up. You made idle conversation with Loki, trying to ignore how nervous you were. Now you understood why Peter was like that. The game started, and both teams were definitely playing their hearts out. From the brackets, you knew the team the girls were up against had just played a game yesterday being seated fourth of the five teams to make it to playoffs.

As you watched your daughter play, you could tell there was something else motivating her and the team. There was an edge of desperation to the game, every player wanting the chance to play one more game. You could feel the nerves from the team just burn away as they got more into the game, so much determination in such little kids. By the time the first half ended, the teams were pretty evenly matched, no points on the board. Instead of wandering over to you and Loki as he often did, you saw Thor giving the girls another pep talk as they snacked on their orange slices.

You didn’t know what Thor said to them, but apparently it worked. The second half started and the girls went in with a new burst of energy. Thor and Peter were encouraging them from the sidelines as they always did, and the team just seemed to perk up. Everything changed when Rose stole the ball from the other team. She passed it to Kimmy, who then passed it to Ella, who managed to get between defenders and score the first goal of the game. The girls perked up even more, managing to keep the other team from scoring for the rest of the game. After handshakes, everyone gathered around the team tent to get snacks and new information.

“You guys were incredible!” Thor gushed as soon as everyone was there. “I’m proud of all of you. We have the final game tomorrow, right here at the same time.”

“Yeah, so, just go home, take it easy, rest up, and we’ll see you all tomorrow,” Peter added. The team did a little huddle break, and then everyone was ready to go home. “Hey, Mr. Thor? Can I get a ride home?”

“Of course, young Parker,” Thor told him before looking to you to make sure it was okay. You rolled your eyes, but it was on the way anyways.

**********

While you could obviously tell Rose was nervous for the playoff game, you had a little more trouble reading her for the championship game. There was that underlying level of nervousness, but she seemed more excited than anything else. As she packed her soccer bag for the game, you decided to talk to her. “Are you nervous?” You asked, handing her her cleats.

“Yeah, a little. I don’t wanna lose in front of Dad,” she said, focusing on her bag. “But me and my friends are really good, so I dunno.”

“Sweetie, you don’t have to worry about your dad. He’s really proud of you no matter what,” you tried reassuring her. “He just wants to make sure you’re still having fun. Just go out there and try your best, just like you guys did yesterday.”

Rose gave you a sweet smile, letting you know your little talk worked, at least for now. As you were driving to the field, you could tell her nerves returned. She got very quiet in the backseat, while Thor was making small talk about some event Tony was going to have. Once you got to the field, you weren’t surprised to see Loki already there. The people joining him, on the other hand, did surprise you. Steve, Bucky, Sam, Tony, Pepper, Morgan, even Pietro and Wanda were there, standing around, looking kind of out of place. The other parents were eyeing them warily, not used to so many Avengers on the field at once. Sure, they were used to maybe two or three Avengers coming to see the games, but this was a good chunk of them. Rose immediately dropped her bag and ran to go greet Morgan and the others.

“Did you make sure they’d be here?” You asked Thor as he picked up Rose’s soccer bag. Thor shook his head.

“I mentioned it, but they never said if they’d come or not,” Thor told you.

“Actually, I made them come,” Loki said, making you jump. You really hated how he seemed to pop out of nowhere. “I knew Rose would appreciate the support.”

“Thank you, brother.” Thor gave him a bright smile, while Loki just rolled his eyes in response. You smiled at the little interaction, knowing it was just the way they showed affection. “I need to go with the team, I’ll see you after the game.”

“Seriously, thank you,” you told Loki once Thor was closer to the team. “I kinda wish Valk could’ve come, she loves seeing the videos of her namesake.”

“I tried calling her-”

“Wait, what?” Loki and Valk didn’t necessarily get along, even though they were fairly civil with each other. You could just imagine the look on her face when Loki’s contact popped up on her phone.

“I know. After she got done screening my calls, I asked if she could come to the game but she was busy with her King duties,” Loki explained. “So it wasn’t for lack of trying.”

“Wow, you really have a soft spot for Rose, don’t you?” you teased him.

“Don’t be stupid,” Loki said, rolling his eyes. “I just know this is important to her.”

“(Y/n)! Reindeer Games! Are you guys gonna get here before the game’s done or what?” Tony called out across the field. Pepper immediately smacked his arm, and he looked to Morgan like she would save him.

The game started not long after, everyone just sitting on one large blanket because no one thought to bring chairs other than you (and Loki always just sat in the grass anyways). You all watched the game closely, practically feeling the nerves rolling off of everyone on the field. Thor was fiddling with his lanyard, Peter was tapping his pen against the clipboard, the girls on the sideline were pacing back and forth, unable to sit still. By the end of the first half, the score was 1-0, the other team having the point. You could tell just by looking at the team that they were starting to get down on themselves.

You saw Thor motion for everyone to stand up, Peter included, and lean in to start talking to them. Peter grabbed the clipboard and began writing someone on the paper, and you immediately thought about how you should’ve gotten him a whiteboard instead. It was definitely too late for that. When the referee called for the teams to line up, the girls seemed to have a new resolve.

“What did he say to them?” Wanda asked as she watched someone on the team steal the ball.

“Isn’t that your power?” Pietro asked back.

“I will end you,” she deadpanned. Pietro laughed at the threat.

“Damn, these little girls are tough,” Sam whistled as Kimmy got knocked to the ground and got right back up.

“Anyone’s tough compared to you,” Bucky quipped. Sam immediately started arguing with him, and you could hear Steve’s soft little c’mon guys not here. They were quickly drowned out by the sound of cheers from your team’s parents as one of the girls stole the ball again. The other team tried taking it back, but the girl passed the ball to Rose. Rose took the ball down the field a little before passing to Ella. Ella got past the defenders, but one girl quickly regained her footing and went back to defending on Ella. Ella passed the ball to Kimmy, and Kimmy kicked the ball to the goal. The goalie dove towards the ball, but just barely missed it. The girls were on the board.

That point seemed to be the motivation they needed. The other team was starting to tire out, but the Valkyries kept playing like they’d just started the game. They kept the ball on the other side of the field, not letting the other team get close enough to score. The one time the other team managed to break away towards the Valkyries’ goal, the defenders quickly got the ball back. Everyone watched the game closely, even Sam and Bucky stopped their arguing to pay close attention.

From the stopwatch you had on your phone, there were only about four minutes left in the game and the score still hadn’t changed. Thor called a time out, the girls panting and trying to catch their breath as they gathered around. No one was saying anything, and you had the suspicion Thor called the time out just so they could take a quick break. When they got back on the field, you didn’t know if they had that last push in them. You seriously hoped they did, but you definitely couldn’t blame them if they didn’t; they’d been playing hard all game with little to no pause.

The girls went back to playing as hard as they had been, no substitutions being made for the last few minutes of the game. The other team managed to get on the Valkyries’ side again, and the defenders once again got the ball back. You checked the stopwatch again, seeing about two minutes left. If the girls got sent to overtime, you didn’t know if they could keep up their energy. “How much longer?” Loki muttered beside you, not taking his eyes off the field.

“About two minutes.” Loki nodded, jaw clenched. It looked like he was getting as tense as you were. Rose had the ball again, quickly passing it to Kimmy when a defender rushed at her. Kimmy dribbled the ball, getting closer to the goal, but passed it back to Ella when she looked back and saw she was open. Ella had a clear path to the goal, so she kicked it high. The goalie jumped for it, but she was just short. The girls were up 2-1 with about a minute left to play.

The girls went back to play defense, not worrying about scoring for the moment. They just needed to keep the other team from scoring and they’d win. You took a quick glance around the blanket, and it looked like everyone was holding their breath. For a kid’s soccer game, the tension was thick in the air. Your stopwatch went on, the seconds seeming to drag on. A few seconds after your stopwatch signaled the end of the game, the referee blew the whistle. A loud cheer broke out throughout the Avengers and in the parents for your team.

The girls immediately ran into each other, hugging on the field. You saw the faces of the other team, the girls looking anywhere, trying to keep neutral expressions. The referees called for handshakes, and the teams did huddle breaks shouting the other team’s name. Once handshakes were done, all the parents and guests went to meet at the team tent. There was a lot of hugging, a lot of pictures with the different Avengers, multiple team photos, you were pretty sure there were happy tears from some of the girls and parents.

“Okay, I’m really proud of all of you guys. Your hard work this season has really paid off. I’m sure you’re all tired so I’ll let you all go home. I’ll call your parents with details for the pizza party, but I really want you all to know how proud both of us are. It’s been an honor to coach you all to success,” Thor rambled. His mind was all over the place, trying to focus on at least one thing. He was still in shock, and Peter didn’t look like he was faring any better. “Peter, do you want to say anything?”

“Y-yeah! You guys did amazing this entire season, and this game just really showed how much you’re able to persevere and push through to get what you want. I’ve had a ton of fun working with you all this season, and I really hope you guys had as much fun as I did,” Peter said, a lot more put together than Thor. “And like Thor said, we’re really proud of you guys!”

With that, the team got in one last huddle, calling out their team name. Rose ran to your group, beaming up at all of you. “We won! I said we were gonna win and we won!”

“She’s learning how to manifest so early,” Sam said, a bit proud. Bucky just gave him the side eye. “What, man?! I’m on Twitter, I see that stuff.”

“How about we all go out and celebrate?” Tony asked. Pepper gave him a deadly glare. “What?”

“Morgan and Rose have school tomorrow and it’s already starting to get late. We can go out tomorrow,” Pepper offered.

“No one here’s starting a mission until next week,” Steve jumped in. “We should all get together tomorrow.”

“Yeah!” Rose decided to join in. Everyone agreed, that being enough to start heading off to the parking lot with their goodbyes. Peter joined your family, needing a ride home again. As you guys were walking to your car, you turned to Rose.

“Alright, don’t tell the others. What do you want to get? We can pick something up on the way home,” you told her. You aimed the first part at both her and Peter, knowing he can get excited and just spill things without meaning to. “And before you ask, yes, Peter, you’re getting something too.”

“Can we get milkshakes?” Rose asked, a twinkle in her eye. Peter didn’t say anything, but he had that same look in his eyes.

“Of course we can!” Thor beamed. “Anything you want, little flower!”

Rose cheered, giving Peter a high-five as you got to the car. Thor looked at them both, warmth behind his gaze. You smiled at the group, unable to believe how lucky you were to have them all in your life.

**********

Rose always loved the pizza party after a season, you’d even argue she might love it more than actually playing soccer. She was trying to wait patiently for the rest of the team to show up, but you could tell she was starting to get a little antsy. She was playing at the arcade with Peter, trying not to bother as you and Thor set up for the rest of the party. The second the other girls started showing up, Rose forgot about Peter. He came back to you and Thor, looking a little sad.

“I got ditched,” he whined. “Do you guys need help with anything?” You immediately set him to grab cups and plates for the team, amused by his dilemma.

The party went on, all the girls having a blast as they ran around the parlor and arcade section, eventually dragging Thor and Peter to go play with them. You talked with some of the other parents, talking about the different activities the kids were involved in. Once the pizza and cupcakes came out, the girls finally sat down for at least a little while. After food was finished, it was time for the trophies to be handed out. Thor gave a speech about how proud he was of the girls, and how hard they worked this season, and how they earned everything. After trophies were handed out, Peter called for everyone’s attention.

“So, Coach Thor, me and the parents wanted to thank you for everything you did over the season as coach. We all chipped in to get you a little gift.” Peter looked around his seat, pausing before looking up with a shy smile. “Has anyone seen my backpack?”

“You left it over here, Pete,” you said, pointing at the backpack next to your purse.

“Thank you!” Peter hurried over to grab his backpack before going back to the front of everyone. “Okay, so, we got this made for you!”

Peter then pulled a box out of his backpack, opening it to show a plaque with the team’s picture on the top half. You couldn’t read the engraving from where you were, but you figured it was probably the standard thank you with the team name and the season year on it. Thor gave everyone a bright smile, thanking them for the gift. The kids were then free to do whatever they wanted until your reservation was done, Thor and Peter joining them in the arcade area. You were talking with Kimmy’s mom when another mom walked over to you.

“Hi, I’m Ella’s mom,” the woman said, shaking your hand. “Are Thor and Peter coaching again next season? Ella really wants to be on the team again, she had so much fun this season.”

You looked over at the little arcade area of the parlor. Peter was at the claw machine, surrounded by some of the team as he tried to win stuffed animals for each of them. Thor was at one of the arcade games, playing against Rose as others watched with rapt attention. You thought about how much fun the two of them had over the season and your conversation with Thor as the two of you set up.

“Yeah, Thor definitely is. I’d ask Peter if he’s going to, though,” you told her. She nodded.

“Thank you, I’ll be sure to ask him before we leave.” With that, she gave you a smile and you went back to your conversation.

“Kimmy’s going to be so happy to hear that Thor’s coaching again, she really loved this team,” she said. “I was going to ask you but I didn’t know when the right time would be.”

“Yeah, Thor really loved the team too. It was such a good season.” You smiled, knowing how excited Rose would be to have her friends on her team again. It would be another good season.

**********

Permanent Tag List: @treatallwithkindness

#thor x reader #thor imagine #marvel imagine #reader insert

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tcm · 4 years

Text

In Conversation with Eva Marie Saint and Norman Lloyd by Susan King

Anybody who has attended the TCM CLASSIC FILM FESTIVAL in Hollywood knows what a magical experience the event is for fans of vintage movies. There’s such good will, love and friendship there that it’s hard to choose what the favorite event is at the Festival, which would have celebrated its 11th edition this April until Covid-19 cancelled the four days of classic films.

One of the most popular presentations are the “Live From” events, which features some of the greatest actors and filmmakers from the Golden Age of Hollywood in conversation with the late, great TCM host Robert Osborne and now with Ben Mankiewicz, the channel’s primary host. These interviews have played on TCM over the years. And a select few, including interviews with Oscar-winners Luise Rainer, Eva Marie Saint, Faye Dunaway and such legends as Norman Lloyd and Peter O’Toole, will be featured during the TCM Classic Film Festival: Special Home Edition.

As a movie writer for 26 years at the L.A. Times. I’ve had the good fortune of interviewing many of these legends. Here are some memories of my conversations with two of my favorites, Eva Marie Saint and Norman Lloyd.

Eva Marie Saint

I have lost count of how many times I have interviewed Eva Marie Saint, now 95, who won a Best Supporting Actress Oscar as Edie, the girlfriend of Terry Malloy (Marlon Brando), in Elia Kazan’s 1954 Academy Award-winning masterpiece ON THE WATERFRONT.

But I remember the first time.

I was at the now defunct Los Angeles Herald Examiner when I was assigned to talk to her in 1986 about director Garry Marshall’s NOTHING IN COMMON, which stars Tom Hanks and Jackie Gleason in his final film. Saint had long been a favorite of mine. I was a huge fan of ON THE WATERFRONT and admired her performances in 1957’s RAINTREE COUNTY opposite Montgomery Clift and Elizabeth Taylor, Alfred Hitchcock’s 1959 romantic thriller NORTH BY NORTHWEST opposite Cary Grant and Otto Preminger’s 1960 epic EXODUS, where Saint was romanced by Paul Newman. I had also seen her on stage in 1979 in Los Angeles opposite Henry Fonda in the hit comedy First Monday in October.

From the moment she opened the door of the Westwood townhome she shared with her late director husband Jeffrey Hayden, I felt an immediate bond with her. Not only did we both hail from the same hometown, East Orange, N.J., Saint was down-to-earth, friendly and smart as a whip. And she’s always been frank and funny.

The last time I interviewed her in person in 2014, Saint talked about doing live TV in the late 1940s and 1950s. “My God, terrible things happened,” she said with a laugh, including exposing more than her talent on the soap opera One Man’s Family. Saint was doing a scene in a small pool opposite the actor who was playing her brother. At one point, she recalled, “someone was doing something offstage. You learn not to look away from what you are doing because you can be distracted.” But she finally looked, only to see a man off camera pulling his shirt up and down. “I looked down and saw my boobies were showing coast to coast,” Saint said, laughing. “I just kept in the scene and slid under the water. What could I do? It was live television. To this day, all of these years later, someone will say to me ‘Miss Saint, you were doing One Man’s Family…’ and I’ll say, ‘I remember.’”

Saint was married to Hayden for 65 years until his death at 90 in late 2016. And he was as exceptional a person as Saint, sweet and friendly. I asked her how the two met. Saint was a young actress and model in New York in the late 1940s, and Hayden was working in radio at NBC. “He saw me on the subway from the back, and he liked the way I walked,” Saint said with a smile. Hayden also noticed a big black book she was carrying that was her modeling portfolio. “The book I was carrying said ‘Eva Marie Saint’ in gold letters,” she noted. “He thought ‘I like the name.’”

They were fated to meet. Not long after seeing her on the subway, Hayden saw her again at Radio City talking with actor Arnold Stang, who also happened to be the only actor that Hayden knew. “So, he could go over to Arnold and Arnold would say ‘Hi Jeff, do you know Eva Marie?’”

The married in 1951, had two children and grandchildren.

My heart skipped a beat when she talked about how strong their marriage was after six decades. Saint noted she had been “thinking about life and I guess I was a little low. I said ‘Jeffrey, what in today’s world inspires you?’ He put his head up and said ‘You.’”

Norman Lloyd

Norman Lloyd, who is still going strong at 105, is one of the most accomplished actors/producers/directors. Beginning as child actor in the 1920s, he starred on Broadway as a member of Orson Welles’ legendary Mercury Theatre in the late 1930s.

He’s appeared in countless movies, including as the evil villain who falls from the Statue of Liberty in Alfred Hitchcock’s 1942 classic thriller SABOTEUR, as well as Jean Renoir’s 1945 THE SOUTHERNER and Charlie Chaplin’s 1952 LIMELIGHT. And TV audiences may know him as the kindly Dr. Auschlander on NBC’s acclaimed medical drama St. Elsewhere from 1982-88.

Lloyd also had one of the strongest marriages in Hollywood. He and his wife Peggy, who died in 2011, were married for 75 years. Having interviewed him several times, I can attest that he is a terrific storyteller and the sweetest of peas.

When I chatted with him at his cozy Brentwood home in 2014, he was still playing tennis twice a week and regaling me with stories about Hitchcock (Hitchcock, Renoir and Chaplin were among his best friends.) In fact, Hitchcock saved his career in the 1950s. Lloyd had discovered jobs hard to find because of the Hollywood Blacklist. Though he was not officially blacklisted, his liberal leanings and friendship with those who had been blacklisted hurt his career.

That didn’t stop Hitchcock from hiring him to be an associate producer on his classic anthology series Alfred Hitchcock Presents in 1957. CBS told the Master of Suspense that there was a “problem” with Lloyd. Hitch persisted. “He said three words: ‘I want him,’” Lloyd recalled.

The Tiffany network, not wanting to upset one of the biggest directors in the world, immediately greenlit Lloyd, who initially worked with producer Joan Harrison, eventually became the executive producer of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour which ran until 1965. Lloyd also directed episodes of the series, including the devilishly fun 1960 installment “Man from the South,” starring Peter Lorre, Steve McQueen and the King of Cool’s then-wife Neile Adams.

Hitchcock and Lloyd reunited in the late 1970s for THE SHORT NIGHT, a thriller Hitch was hoping to make after 1976’s FAMILY PLOT. “Hitch, by the way, was not at his physical best,” Lloyd recalled. “He was really getting old and had difficulty walking. We were working on the script one day and he says to me, ‘You know, Norm. We are not going to make the picture.’”

Lloyd asked him what he meant by the statement. “He said to me a classic line: ‘Because it’s not necessary.’ When he died, the Directors Guild asked me to write a tribute to him, which I did. That’s what I ended it with.“

#Eva Marie Saint #Norman Lloyd #TCM #Turner Classic Movies #TCMFF #Film festival #blacklist #alfred hitchcock #old hollywood #Susan King

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prettyboy-parker · 5 years

Video

starker abo: homecoming

warnings: emotional and physical abuse (nothing explicit!), smut at the end, implied thorki, mentioned sambucky

words: 3.7k

“Jesus, he’s such a fuckin’ crybaby. I feel bad for Quentin.”

Everyone turns to look at the table across the cafeteria. Peter Parker, the world’s snootiest omega, is perched on top of the navy lunch table and bawling his eyes out. Loki, a lithe snarky omega, is patting under Peter’s eyes with tissues. His usual posse huddles around him, cooing at and petting him.

“I don’t. His performance in bed probably outweighs his attitude, if you catch my drift.” Sam snickers and Bucky punches him in the arm. The alpha lets out a whine and rubs at his shoulder. “Hey! What was that for?” He snaps at his boyfriend. Bucky just narrows his eyes. Tony finds himself looking at Peter again. He seems to have calmed down a little. His friends usher him out of the cafeteria, no doubt to help him fix his makeup. Tony could gag at how fucking prissy the omega is.

“You okay, Tony? You look a little pale.” Steve says, and Tony can’t believe he’s actually concerned.

“Jeez, Steve, I’m fine. Your motherly instincts take over?”

The table howls with laughter.

“Good one, Stark!” Thor booms and Steve rolls his eyes. Tony sends a wink at Steve, a group of girls heading towards their table emerging in the corner of his eye.

“Steven,” Peggy, the beta exchange student from England, pipes up. A few of her friends giggle behind her. “Would you come with me? I have to talk to you.”

Steve nods wordlessly, trailing behind her like a lost puppy.

“He’s smitten, I tell ya’.” Bucky slurs, tossing a crumpled napkin at Sam.

“Idiot. I’ve got to piss, see you in Calc.”

Sam groans and Rhodey shouts “TMI!” Tony passes a table of girls on his way out, and they all call his name. He shoots them a wink, opening the double doors to the hallway. It’s actually quiet in the hallway, aside from his combat boots thunking on the linoleum floors. He fishes through his leather jacket’s pocket, looking for his cigs, when-

“Watch where you’re fucking going!”

Tony stumbles back as he knocks into, well, none other than Peter Parker. He looks like he’s going to cry again as Loki lifts him off of the floor. The tan-skinned beta flips him a bird as they walk away.

Great.

✨👑✨

He can’t believe Quent would ever say that to him. For one, he’s not a slut. He’d never cheat on Quentin, he knows that, so why did he say it? Two, Quentin’s lucky no one was around to see Peter’s tears.

What he can’t get over is how Quentin touched him like that.

He’s heard of alphas hitting their omegas, but it’s always been an old wive’s tale, or whatever. He guesses that Quentin’s just stressed. He didn’t do so hot on his Pre-Calc test, so maybe he has some pent up anger.

Peter needs to send him some flowers.

By the time he gets back to his apartment, he’s already tried calling Quentin three times to apologize, but the alpha never picked up. He drops his Vera Bradley book bag on the floor with a heavy sigh.

“Hey, Peter! How was school?” Uncle Ben asks from where he’s seated at the kitchen island.

Peter breaks down into tears.

Uncle Ben takes him in his arms, holding him close. That’s the thing about his uncle, whenever he’s upset he just lets Peter cry it out, never asking for an explanation. Peter appreciates when his aunt gives him advice, he really does, but sometimes it’s nicer just to be held.

“I’ve got Halotop ice cream that’s calling your name.”

Peter giggles softly as Uncle Ben ruffles his hair.

Soon enough he’s cuddled under his silk sheets, a carton of peanut butter cup ice cream in his hands. In the midst of watching Cady and Janis mix together foot cream, his phone rings. “Quentin 💕💕” lights up on the screen over a very flattering picture of his boyfriend.

“Hi,” Peter answers quietly.

“Hi honey, I just-um-wanted to say I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean any of it.”

“It’s okay Quent, I was a bitch too. I’m sorry.” Peter responds quietly, stabbing his ice cream with his spoon.

“You kind of were. I’ll catch you tomorrow, okay?”

“Bye, love you.”

“Bye.”

Peter hangs up the phone, feeling emptier than before.

✨👑✨

“Anthony, you are not wearing that.”

Tony smirks and adjusts the collar of his leather jacket.

“Don’t worry, dad. I know Peter. It’s all good.” He replies, running a hand through his hand. Howard clenches his jaw.

“Come on, boys. We don’t want to be late.” His mother calls, ushering the two to the car. Howard still looks pissed as he climbs into the driver's seat, Tony scrolling through Instagram as they drive to the Parker’s. A picture of Peter appears, the omega posing on the hood of a cherry red ‘65 Thunderbird. His long, milky legs are displayed by his tiny red running shorts. A sliver of his toned stomach is exposed by his cream Coca Cola crop top. His almond hair looks like it’s blowing in the wind. Red heart-shaped glasses frame his face perfectly. The caption reads “Taste the Feeling! ♥️♥️”.

A small part of Tony wants to taste him.

He ignores that part.

“Now you behave, Anthony. This deal is important, we’re paying Benjamin a lot of money for his program.” Howard reminds him.

“Yeah yeah,” Tony replies, rolling his eyes and itching for a smoke. They pull up to one of the apartment complexes in the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Tony begrudgingly follows his parents, the elevator operator nervously pressing the buttons. The elevator brings them directly to Peter’s penthouse because of course, the Parkers have a penthouse.

“Oh, hello!” A voice exclaims from the kitchen. He stands awkwardly until Mrs. Parker emerges from the other room. “Welcome, all of you!” She exclaims, giving his mom a hug.

“Oh, Anthony, I remember when you were just a baby. Your mother came to me for a dress for a gala, and she brought you along. You’ve grown into such a handsome alpha.”

Tony flushes, embarrassed. His mom laughs loudly and pinches his cheeks.

“Peter should be down soon, he always takes forever to get ready.” Mrs. Parker complains, pushing her glasses farther up her nose. “Benjamin is picking some whiskey from the cellar. Why don’t you come sit down?”

Mrs. Parker leads them to the living room, where the couches are covered with blankets and the fireplace roars. Tony sinks into the knitted blanket, sighing heavily.

“Oh, goodness, I’m sorry I’m late!”

Peter Parker is at the top of the steps, in a tight, glittery maroon dress, looking like an absolute vision.

“Come down, Pete.” His aunt calls with a smile. The omega’s heels click on the hardwood staircase as he comes downstairs. He’s prettier up close, a silver glittery barrette holding his curls out of his face. Gold glitter is swept over his cheeks and eyelids.

“Anthony,” He says, scrunching up his button nose. Tony winks at him. The only empty seat is next to the alpha, so Peter daintily sits down on the couch. He smells divine, like expensive floral perfume mixed with the sweet scent of omega.

“You can call me Tony, you know.” The alpha purrs under the voices of his parents and Mrs. Parker. Peter rolls his eyes.

“Dully noted.” He snaps back, but Tony just laughs.

Dinner goes on slowly and Tony keeps his mouth shut. Peter’s definitely checking him out (or maybe that’s just Tony’s ego.) During the meal of lamb and beef, Tony notices a bruise blooming under the hem of his dress.

The omega gives him a glare and adjusts his collar.

✨👑✨

“Did you hear? We’re being assigned partners this time.”

“Ugh, gag,” Peter grumbles, tapping his pink pen on his pink notebook.

“I know,” Loki responds, eyes glancing to the back of the room. “I hope I get paired up with Thor, though.”

Peter smiles and picks at his cuticle.

“He better ask you to homecoming. I’m blackmailing him if he doesn’t by Friday.” He says nonchalantly, eyeing the burly blonde in the back of the room. He’s laughing about something with Anthony.

“Peter. I’ll beat you to it, you know that.” Loki jokes. Peter nudges him in the shoulder of his dark green sweater. The class quiets down when Ms. Hill steps into the room.

“Good afternoon, everyone. As you may have heard from the other classes, we’re starting our quarter project.” She announces. “I’ll be assigning you into partners, and you’ll be researching the impact and achievements of a Chinese dynasty.”

The glass groans, a few pairs of eyes flicking around nervously.

“Calm down. It’s senior year, you should all know each other by now. I’ve already have your partners, so listen up...”

Peter studies his French manicure as Ms. Hill calls out their names. He gives Loki a wink when the teacher pairs Thor with him for the Tang Dynasty. It’s getting to the end of the list, and Peter’s worried that Ms. Hill might have forgotten him, then-

“Tony and Peter. Song Dynasty.”

The omega dies a little inside.

“Alright, get to work! Rubrics are on my desk, get brainstorming!”

The class disperses into a flurry of noise and movement. Tony slowly stalks over to him like the douchebag he is.

“How about you get the rubric?” Peter suggests, but it’s more of an order than anything. Tony smirks and places his pencil on the desk next to Peter.

“Anything for you, princess.” He teases, causing the omega to flush a bright red. Peter doodles in his notebook until Tony gets back with two rubrics.

“Song Dynasty. I’m fuckin’ pumped.”

This actually makes Peter giggle a little bit.

“Calm down, Anthony.” He quips back, a small smile on his face.

It turns out the two work together pretty well.

Tony’s definitely not a slacker, and had avid ideas that Peter wrote down. They settled on a comedy-style presentation. (Which Peter would neverdo, but who can say no to Tony’s puppy dog eyes?)

When the bell rings, Tony walks him to his next class, like a...gentleman.

Who knew?

✨👑✨

“Good morning Midtown! I’m Peter Parker, your SGA President.”

Tony turns his attention to the T.V in the hallway. Peter sits at the newscaster desk, in a navy and white tennis polo, a matching headband pushing back his curls, and two big pearls adorning his ears. Tony could purr, but he pinches himself. There’s no way he can be falling for Peter Parker.

No way.

The entire hallway goes silent, in awe of their queen on the screen.

“A quick reminder-next week is spirit week! The days are posted on our Instagram and around the school. Don’t forget to buy your homecoming tickets. They’re being sold all week in the cafeteria. Thanks, and have a wonderful day!”

Everyone resumes their conversation.

Tony slams his locker shut.

✨👑✨

“Oh god, you are not making me ride that.”

Tony laughs loudly and tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

Peter stands with his arms crossed over his baby blue Chanel sweater. His pink lips are turned down into a frown, button nose scrunched like it always is.

“I am. Unless you want to walk?” Tony coos, handing his helmet to the omega. His honey eyes glance down at the black helmet, then back up to Tony.

“You’ll keep me safe?” Peter asks quietly, his bitchy facade dropping. Tony’s eyes widen.

“Oh, of course, Pete. I’d never let anything happen to you.” The alpha responds, genuine care in his voice.

“Well, then let’s go, slowpoke.” Peter huffs, placing the ill-fitting helmet on top of his curls. Tony chuckles and straddles the bike, waiting as Peter slowly wraps his arms around his torso, resting his cheek on his back.

“Hold on!” Tony calls as he starts the bike, causing the tiny omega to yelp. They leave school, weaving through the cars and students. Peter shouts directions to his house in Tony’s ear, the alpha smiling as the wind whips behind him. They eventually arrive at Peter’s apartment complex, parking his motorcycle in the garage for the occupants.

“That sucked,” Peter grumbles, but-Tony sniffs the air.

Peter’s turned on.

He’s about to crack a joke, but stops himself. Peter looks at the ground, embarrassed.

“Sorry. Didn’t bring my car.”

Peter tries to hide his smile.

The omega brings him up to his penthouse, heading to the kitchen to grab something to eat.

“Do you want anything, Tony? I’ve got...quite a lot.” Peter asks, grabbing some wheat crackers and spread from the fridge. Tony shucks off his leather jacket, placing it over the back of the chair. He runs his hand over the cool marble counter.

“I’m good, but thank you.” He responds, pulling his notebook out of his bag. Peter shrugs, grabbing his book bag.

“Suit yourself. Let’s go upstairs, my aunt will be home soon.” He tells Tony, not sparing him a second glance before heading to the staircase. The alpha rushes behind him, narrowly avoiding an expensive looking vase. They turn right down the hallway, pictures of Peter at all stages of his life on the walls. One catches Tony’s eyes, a little baby Peter with a big blue bow on his head, smiling as he plays in a pile of leaves.

“Please don’t touch anything, Anthony.” Peter sniffs when they reach his room, pink exploding in Tony’s vision. His room is huge, perfectly cleaned and organized. There are pictures everywhere, Peter smiling with his friends. A king-sized canopy bed sits in the middle of the room, expensive silk pillows arranged with care. Peter plops himself on the ground, spreading out his papers.

”Your room is...nice.” Tony comments, sitting on the ground next to Peter. He's still overwhelmed by the omegan aroma filling the room.

”Thank you.” Peter says softly, clearly pleased.

”Should we get started? I had some ideas about how we should present the civil service exam.”

They get a big chunk of their work done but end up talking about everything butthe Song Dynasty. Peter’s actually really fucking smart, wanting to study biological engineering in college. He's down to earth and an absolute sweetheart when he's not surrounded by the student body.

And he's really fucking pretty.

”I know! Fury is such a hardass!” Peter exclaims through giggles, tears coming out of his big doe eyes. His curls are a mess, splayed underneath his head.

Tony isn’t thinking when he reaches over and thumbs away Peter’s happy tears.

The omega blinks in surprise, but-

sucks Tony’s thumb into his mouth.

Tony growls loudly, removing his thumb from Peter’s mouth with a pop, leaning down, and pressing his lips to the other’s. The omega is everything Tony thought he would be. Sweet like sugar, with the remnants of the crackers on his tongue. He hums happily as Tony picks him up, pulling the smaller into his lap.

“Tony-“

“I fucking like you, Parker.”

“Tony,” Peter whispers as the alpha lightly drags his fingers over his bare thighs. “Tony, I have a boyfriend.”

“He doesn’t deserve to be your boyfriend, Peter.” Tony says, almost frantically. “He-He fucking hurts you.”

Peter flinches at his word choice.

“He doesn’t. It’s none of your business.” The omega breathes, avoiding Tony’s gaze.

“Peter, please tell someone. Or break up with him, I don’t care.” The alpha pleads, taking Peter’s hands in his. The omega rips them away.

“He loves me. Please drop it.”

Tony bites his tongue.

✨👑✨

“Loki, your bow is crooked.”

Loki rolls his eyes and spins around.

“Then fix it, Peter.”

Peter laughs and straightens the blue bow that holds his black, silky hair out of his face. It’s Class Colors Friday, the seniors getting their rightful color of blue. Harley takes a bite of his sandwich, looking over Peter’s shoulder.

“Uh, Pete? Quentin’s coming over here, and he looks mad.”

Peter turns around, seeing his boyfriend heading towards him with a scowl on his face. Peter pretends to light up, giving him a small wave. Before he can greet the alpha, he’s grabbing Peter by his cheerleading jacket.

“You fucking slut,” He growls, blue eyes narrowed. “You sleeping around with Stark now?”

Peter whimpers as his breathing picks up.

“Quent, you’re making a scene.” He whispers, tugging at the alpha’s sleeve gently. Quentin grins menacingly.

“Am I, now?” He chuckles, pressing a kiss to Peter’s cheek. “That’s high praise coming from a drama queen like yourself. Have fun finding another homecoming date.”

With that, Quentin pushes him back, and storms out of the cafeteria. Peter follows him, ignoring the shouts from his friends.

“Quentin, baby, wait!” The omega calls out once they get into the hallway, causing the alpha to spin around.

“Is it true? You made out with Stark?”

Peter’s bottom lip quivers as he stays silent. Quentin sighs exasperatedly, clenching his fists tightly.

“You deserve everything I did to you, Peter. And I hope you fucking know it.”

Peter doesn’t see his, well, ex-boyfriend, leave through his tears. He shuffles off to the omega restroom, trying to keep his mascara from running. He sifts through his purse for his little packet of tissues, dabbing at his eyes frantically. The door swings open, and Peter expects Loki and Harley, but the smell of smoke and musky alpha fills the room.

“Shit, Peter, I’m so fucking sorry,” Tony says quickly. Peter just whimpers and cuddles into the alpha’s torso.

“You were right,” He cries, breathing in deep breaths of Tony’s scent. The other boy strokes his curls, shushing him. “And now I don’t have a homecoming date, and all my friends do, and senior year is just going to suck.”

Tony sighs deeply from above him.

“I can go with you, if you want.”

Peter looks up into Tony’s deep brown eyes.

“Are you asking me out, Anthony?” He teases, poking the alpha’s cheek. His eyes widen in surprised.

“No! Not at all. I’m just saying, if you wanted to, I’d be willing to go with you.”

Peter laughs and kisses him.

✨👑✨

Tony’s so fucking nervous.

His hands shake as he grips the stupid plastic corsage box in one, ringing the doorbell with the other.

Mrs. Parker opens the door.

“Tony. Come on in. Peter will be down in a second.” She says with a glint in her eyes. Tony follows her into the apartment, perfectly clean, like always.

“Let me see,” Mrs. Parker smiles, leaning over to look at the corsage in the box. “He’ll love it.”

Speaking of him-

Peter Parker appears at the top of the steps.

Tony’s mouth parts subconsciously. Peter looks-Peter looks stunning. His dress is a cherry red that matches his lipstick, all lace and off the shoulder. He walks down slowly, smoothing the skirt of his dress.

“Peter, oh my god, you look beautiful.” Tony sputters as Peter gives him a peck on the cheek.

“And you look handsome,” The omega responds, thin fingers adjusting Tony’s tie. “You bought a corsage!”

Tony laughs, opening the box and picking up the white rose. He adjusts it on Peter’s wrist as the other boy pins a white boutonniere to Tony’s lapel.

“Perfect,” He coos, pressing another kiss to Tony’s jaw.

Mrs. Parker gives him a quick, threatening talk as Peter uses the bathroom. Peter fake swoons when Tony opens the passenger door to his Audi.

They’re the perfect pair.

They take pictures and dance and kiss and it’s everything Tony could ever dream of. Peter wins homecoming queen, as he should. He looks divine on stage, sparkling tiara on his curls and smiling wide.

“Alpha,” Peter whines, 30 minutes before the dance ends, making Tony’s heart skip a beat.

“Yeah, baby?” Tony responds, grinding his hips forward against Peter’s ass, a quiet ‘oof’ falling from his lips.

“Can-Can we go back to your place? If your parents aren’t home-“

“Fuck yes.”

The car is thick with the scent of arousal, the mixing of their pheromones making Tony crazy. They’re on top of each other once they make it inside.

“Tony, where’s your room?” Peter moans as Tony nibbles on his neck. The alpha doesn’t respond, instead lifts the smaller into his arms. Tony rushes upstairs, making sure he doesn’t drop Peter. They collapse onto the bed, Tony pressing his lips to Peter’s. He tastes delicious, as always, and Tony can’t help but moan. He pulls off of Peter, shucking off his suit jacket as Peter stands up.

“Alpha, can you help undo my dress?”

That phrase sends a jolt of arousal to Tony’s dick.

He obeys, thick fingers tugging the silver zipper down. Peter steps out of the dress, his freckled back on full display, as well as his delectable ass that’s barely covered by white panties. In awe, Tony runs his fingers over the pale stretch marks littering his flesh.

“Is that- are they too gross? Quentin always said t-they were ugly.”

Tony’s speechless.

“No, no, baby,” He coos, spinning Peter around so he can see his face. His doe eyes shine with oncoming tears. “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that? You’re the sexiest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen.”

Peter giggles shyly, flushed.

“Fuck Quentin. He’s a pussy, not a real alpha. He never deserved you. You’re perfect, my little omega.”

They make love.

There’s nothing else to call it-not fucking, not sex. Peter rides him for everything he’s worth, tiny cock leaking against his stomach as his thick thighs straddle Tony’s. The tiara stays on, his curls becoming damp with sweat. Tony doesn’t last long, he pops his knot too early, but he doesn’t mind, since Peter is right behind him.

“Tony?” The omega whispers after Tony slipped out of him and cleaned them up.

“Yeah?” The alpha responds, breath hitting the back of Peter’s neck.

“I fucking like you, Stark.”

Tony laughs, pulls Peter closer under the covers, and kisses him.

#starker #starker fic #starker abo #ironspider #abo dynamics #highschool au #not my best but #whatever #my writing

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all1e23 · 5 years

Text

Astrophile [Pt.12]

Chapter: Meteor Shower

Summary: Family zoo date -- Not a date, date. Just a date, between friends, y’know?

Warnings: FLUFF

A/N: Writer’s block is straight from the hands of the devil, but I am making up for it with a soft chapter. It’s seriously the cheesiest of potatoes. Send me love because I’m needy, okay?! Plus all your comments make my day.

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are welcomed! Thanks!**

Bucky is in trouble.

The kind of trouble you can’t ignore, the kind that sticks with you forever and for once in his life, he finally understands why this kind of trouble is so addictive.

He’s not really sure when it happened. One second everything was fine, it was just him, and his comet and Bucky liked it that way. Then, out of nowhere, this shooting star came blazing into his life and heart before Bucky had any time for wishing. Bucky is so starry-eyed for Y/n he can’t see anyone but her sometimes and the way she talks to Ori? Even if everything else about her was awful and she wasn’t the most amazing woman he’s ever met, that alone would have him falling for her.

She’s kind, gentle to a fault almost, but she never talks to Ori like she’s stupid simply because she’s a child. She listens, really listens to Ori. Y/n makes sure Ori knows how smart she thinks his little girl is. She hears every single thing Ori says and is just as excited to listen to the story as Ori is to tell it.

And every time Ori calls her name, Y/n lights up as if she can’t believe Ori wants to talk to her.

That softness she brings to their lives stops and restarts Bucky’s heart time and time again. It’s not the only reason he adores Y/n. She loves Ori with a fierceness that could rival his own affection. Bucky knows without a shadow of a doubt Y/n would give her life to protect Ori. He can see it in the way she watches Ori on the subway, the fervent, protective hold she has on her tiny hand as they walk down the street and the way she faithfully guards every one Ori’s dreams – silly and significant.

Ori could be anything she wants in her eyes and not one of her fantasies sound trivial to Y/n.

Bucky doesn’t know all Y/n’s been through, but he’s thankful every time Y/n looked to the stars for guidance they led her to them. He’s heard whispers of the men she’s dated from Natasha. None were terrible, but they weren’t great either. They didn’t love her the way she deserves, and they often fell short. He wishes he knew who they were so he could thank them. He wants to thank them for being stupid enough to not see the amazing woman they were holding and allowing him the chance to earn her affection.

Ori skips along next to Y/n in her glitter tulle skirt, galaxy printed tights and her hair matching Y/n’s braid for braid. Y/n got ready in Ori’s bathroom before they left and she made sure to give herself the same braids after slipping on a pair of old overalls and those light pink slip on tennis shoes Bucky has recently decided are sexier than any pair heels he’s seen on a woman.

It could have something to do with who was wearing them, or it could be he’s so head over heels for Y/n that every little thing she does gets his heart jumping in ways he didn’t know existed outside of cheesy romantic comedies.

Bucky watches the matching set of braids work their way through the crowd as he follows close behind, but he’s learned to stay out of their way. The zoo has been quite a learning experience. He’s learned they both make the same high pitched giggle when they are excited about something, both girls would steal any of the animals at the zoo in an attempt to take it home because apparently they don’t get enough love from the zookeepers and should have their own soft beds with blankets.

He’s also learned both girls have zero patience when it comes to seeing cute animals, they can put down some cotton candy and their favorite pastime is teasing him.

The teasing has been worth every single moment so far. Bucky added roughly sixty or seventy new photos to his phone, and every one of them was Y/n and Ori. He managed to get a video of them jumping up and down in front of the monkey exhibit and took about twenty pictures when Y/n helped lift Ori up so she could see when some inconsiderate giant stepped in front of them. It didn’t last long, and before he knew it, he had a sparkling comet sitting on his shoulders begging to see the goats.

Bucky’s hand falls to y/n’s lower back without thinking, and he gently guides her around the group of tourists forcing their way to the front.

“Daddy we have to hurry, or we won’t get to feed the goats!”

“Comet, we have plenty of time, it's not even one yet,” Bucky chuckles and leans his head back against Ori’s stomach, letting her little fingers wrap tightly around the fallen strands from his bun.

“I’m sorry. She gets a little excited about feeding the goats. One time we stopped to have lunch first and ended up missing their feeding time by seven minutes. I didn’t hear the end of that for a week straight.”

Y/n tilts her head to the side and furrows her brow as if he said something completely outrageous. “I don’t know what you’re apologizing for, but you better move your butt, December. I’m going to be just as upset if we don’t get to feed the goats. I may even cry.”

“Please don’t cry,” Bucky grimaces, pained just from the idea of having to see her tears, “ I don’t think my heart can handle seeing you cry, sweetheart.”

There’s that sweetheart again. She’s starting to like the way it sounds rolling off his tongue, sweet like honey and if he’s not careful she might get addicted.

“Is that your weakness, Bucky?”

Bucky smirks and shakes his head, but there’s something in his eyes that says he’s holding back. He glances at Y/n and opens his mouth in what she hopes is Bucky spilling his secrets but Ori Squeals at the first sight of goats and any mysteries Bucky was ready to give up stay hidden away.

For now, at least.

——–

“Sea lions!” Ori squeals as she rushes forward.

Y/n slips her hand into Bucky’ss and tugs for him to follow her, an excited grin on her face as she matches Ori’s squeal, “Sea lions, Buck. Let’s go!”

Bucky slowly tightens his fingers around hers and peers down at their hands linked together.

Perfect fit.

Who knew something as simple as holding a pretty girl’s hand could make Bucky dizzy? It’s never happened before and regardless of whatever Natasha feels for Clint or Steve feels for Sam, Bucky never really thought it was something he needed. He told himself over and over again he’s fine without a hand to hold but as happy as he was before she walked into his life, he was unquestionably wrong.

Get a hold of yourself. Y/n’s only holding your hand to get through the crowd, the voice in his head was eager to warn him, to guard his heart from the inevitable cold that will hit his hand.

They make it up to the glass barrier, but Y/n doesn’t let go of his hand like Bucky thought she would. He glances down at their intertwined fingers, and she’s holding on a whole lot tighter than she was only a moment ago. He gulps and looks back at the sea lions trying and failing to forget about the beautiful woman who is holding more than just his hand in her delicate grasp.

Bucky prays she never wants to let him go.

Y/n scoots closer to Bucky as the crowds file in around them and finds her hovering within his space, still holding his hand, but the other is wrapped protectively around Ori pressing the little girl back against her.

“I hate big crowds,” Bucky hears her grumble, and he’s not sure if she meant for him to hear it, but now that it’s out there his heart can’t let it go.

His fingers squeeze around hers as his thumb whispers over the back of her hand. Bucky is itching to wrap his left arm around her as more people surround them. He wants to envelop them both up in his arms to let everyone know they are together, but they aren’t together, and he doubts Y/n would be okay with that sort of display in front of Ori. Still, he wasn’t going to let her be uncomfortable, not while he could do something to fix it.

Bucky leans forward and whispers against the shell of her ear, “Don’t worry. I won’t let you get lost.”

A hint of humor fills Bucky’s words, but even without looking, she knows how serious he is. She leans back against his chest, taking solace in his warmth. She drags her pinky along his, and the most delicious words hit his ears, “Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise, Beck.”

“Can we get ice cream daddy before we go home? Pretty please?” Ori begs as the crowd surrounding the sea lion exhibit starts to separate, looking up at her dad with what Sam calls ‘the uncle killers,’ her beautiful blue eyes as wide as she can get them and she has her sweetest smile turned up to a thousand watts.

Y/n turns around and gives him the same wide, pleading eyes but adds a soft pouty lip as she wraps her free hand around his forearm.

“Yeah, please, Buck. Please?”

Jesus Christ.

One look from her and he can’t think let alone breathe. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to stay put when all he wants to do is lean into her and find out just how sweet her kisses taste.

“Daddy, Please?”

Y/n chuckles and gives his arm a gentle squeeze, “Yeah, please? I’ll get you your very own cone.”

Bucky grins and gives her hand a playful squeeze. Why did she have to make it so easy to fall for her?

“What am I going to do with the two of you?” Bucky mutters as he digs around his pocket and pulls about a twenty handing it over to Ori because she likes to pay for things now.

“We still get dessert with dinner, right? I was promised burgers and milkshakes this mornin’.”

“Don’t be silly, daddy.”

“Yeah, don’t be silly,” Y/n echoes Ori’s sentiments with a chuckle and slowly lets go of his hand to take Ori’s. They both practically skip over to the ice cream stand, and Bucky can’t take his eyes off them.

“Looks like you have your hands full,” a gentle feminine voice calls from behind him. Bucky turns on his heels to find an elderly woman beaming up at him.

“I’m sorry, what?” She nods to the girls giggling and squealing loudly and Bucky chuckles at the sight.

“Oh, right. I guess I do, but I don’t really mind.”

She smiles kindly at warmth gleaming in his eyes and pats his shoulder, “Well, you have a beautiful family. Make sure you live in the moment. It goes by a lot faster than you think. Before you know it, that little one will be all grown up and it will be just the two of you.“

Bucky’s smile drops slightly as the woman departs. He hasn’t given that much thought, but she’s right. It won’t be long until Ori is out of the house and living her own, following her own dreams; only Y/n isn’t going to be there by his side because she’s truly his. She will have her husband and family and won’t be sleeping next to him till the end of time like he’s wishing.

He’s so lost in the spiral of panic his brain has sent him into that he doesn’t really Y/n and Ori are walking back until Y/n is standing in front of him holding out a double chocolate cone just for him.

Then again, she might be by his side.

“That lady winked at you as she walked away. What were you talking about?”

Bucky shrugs and makes a noncommittal noise like he hadn’t heard a word the woman had said to him. The word family shouldn’t be thrown around lightly in front of Y/n or Ori.

“Told me to live in the moment or somethin’.”

Y/n hummed in agreement and leaned forward, taking a big bite of his ice cream, grinning at the look of feigned shock and aggravation on Bucky’s face.

“What? Just living in the moment, December. Speaking of living in the moment,” Y/n points to the face painting booth and grins at Ori, “What do you think starlight?”

“Yes!” Ori squeals and races towards the booth, double scoop in hand.

Bucky stands back and watches as Ori gets a teal and purple butterfly painted across her face and Y/n, of course, has to get one done with her. They are two peas in a pod, trouble and maker. Partners in crime and they have to match. What’s a trip to the zoo without some cheetah print face paint?

“What do you think?” Y/n asks as she bounces up to him, a bright smile on her face as she tilts her head to let him see the cheetah print on her jaw and her right temple.

“Beautiful, but that’s got nothing to do with the face paint Beck,” He reaches out and weaves his fingers through hers, and she grins.

She just might be hanging around for quite some time.

——–

Y/n didn’t let go of his hand again until they reached the subway. They even held hands all through dinner, much to Ori’s delight. The only reason she let go of his hand at all was so he could hold onto the pole grip while his other hand was busy holding a sleeping little girl with her head resting on his shoulder. Even though they were no longer holding hands, Y/n didn’t stray far from his side. She stayed close to the pair, and every so often she would stroke Ori’s cheek or brush her curls out of her eyes and Bucky fell a little deeper with each touch.

With every step, they made it closer to the bookstore and his car, the quieter they became. The darkened store front to Y/n’s shop came within view, and Bucky’s heart twisted. He doesn’t want to say goodbye yet. He certainly doesn't want her to go upstairs because she doesn’t belong in that tiny, dismal apartment. She belongs back at home with him and Ori. They should be going back to his place together so they can get Ori into bed and spend the rest of the night curled up together in the bed they share every night.

It’s too soon for any of that and somewhere in the deep part of his brain, where logic and reason are kept, Bucky knows that. Bucky would have to deal with the fact that in the morning she wouldn’t be there when he woke.

“I guess I should let you get her home.” Y/n smiles and nods towards his car that was left in front of her shop this morning.

“I had a lot of fun today. Thank you for letting me tag along.”

“Me too,” Bucky watches her picking at her nails and he puts his large hand over hers, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“I have fun every time I’m with you.”

She beams in response and brushes Ori’s hair back out of her face to place a kiss on her forehead.

“If you can, I would get that washed off her face tonight. Don’t let her sleep with that on. She could break out in a rash from the paint, or it could get on her unicorn. She would be devastated if something happened to Sparkles.”

Y/n looks up to find Bucky watching her with such reverence it makes the air around them flicker to life with a heated spark.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Would you want –” Bucky blew out a breath and shook his head. Here goes nothing, he thought.

“Thursday is my day off, and I was wondering if you wanted to come over and have a movie night with me. I’ll make you dinner. Just you and me…” Bucky’s voice gets soft and trails off at the end, if the street had been any busier she wouldn’t have heard a word he said.

“Just us?” She clarifies carefully.

The last thing she wants to do is to assume this is something it isn’t, but judging by the nervous flicker in Bucky’s eye, her assumptions aren’t so crazy.

“Yeah,” Bucky croaks, nervously clears his throat and eventually nods placing a hand on Ori’s back to keep her steady. “Ori hasn’t spent the night at Uncle Steve’s in forever, and I thought a night with just us would be fun.”

“Bucky, I would love to spend time with just you,” Y/n says earnestly and Bucky simpers, practically melting at her feet. She giggles and takes a chance, pressing a barely-there kiss to his cheek. It was so light had Bucky’s eyes been closed he wouldn’t have known it happened, but he’s so glad he didn’t miss it.

It’s already playing on repeat in his head like he imagines it will every night until he gets to see her again. Y/n pulls her bottom lip between her teeth to stop her grin. It is no help. The smile Bucky has caused couldn't be stopped for anything. She skips towards the tall black door beside the shop's front door, the one that leads to her apartment and she turns back to face him one more time, her fingers dip down to touch her palm and stretch back up in a simple goodbye.

“Goodnight, Bucky.”

He doesn’t think he will ever tire of hearing his name fall from her lips.

“Night, Y/n.”

Bucky grins as he watches her disappear behind the painted wood, it takes a few moments before Bucky’s brain can wake his legs up, and he’s able to make it to his car. By the time he gets Ori buckled up, Bucky is already aching to see her again. He wants to see her tomorrow morning or at the very least for dinner. It’s moving too fast, he knows that but he can’t help it-- he’s cold without her.

He is so screwed.

Y/n barely made it into her apartment when her phone chimed from her pocket, she quickly digs it out and grins wildly at the message displayed on the screen.

[December]: Thursday is so far away. Can I see you before then?

“Oh, boy,” She whispers into the empty, quiet of her apartment as she quickly types out her reply. “What are you getting yourself into, Y/n? You’re in big, big trouble.”

[Beck]: Tomorrow? I’ll bring you lunch.

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #fireman!Bucky #bucky x reader #daddy!bucky #single dad bucky #Firefighter AU #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #alternate universe

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