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fanficimagery · 3 years

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When Enough is Enough pt. II

Imagine being let down one too many times by your best friend, only to end up making some new ones in the process.

Words: 8.5K Author’s Note: Okay so some of you asked to only be added to part 2 of this while others asked to be added everything Bucky.. and a few others weren’t exactly clear. So if you want to be tagged in any future Bucky related imagines please let me know so I can get your blog name written down on my list.

Tags: @aya-fay @70s-chic @sipsteacasually @kaitlyn2907 @scarlettwitch99 @thingsforimagination @mimilh @felicityofbakerstreet @eternalharry @eliwinchester99 @intothesoul @wintershadowkat @b1sexualtonystark @meredeph @miszswan

The Sunday before you are to return to work, you sleep in until nine in the morning. Your thoughts are immediately on Bucky's impending arrival and you couldn't help the butterflies that took flight in your stomach. He's a friend, just as all the others are, but you couldn't help but notice just how attractive this new friend of yours is. But not only does his attractiveness draw you in, his easy-going teasing and protectiveness does too. However, Bucky Barnes is still a man trying to find his footing in this world after all that's been done to him and finally getting his name cleared, and if he finds comfort with you then you're going to try your best and be the friend he needs.

So since you're not dressing to impress, you dress in your favorite lazy outfit after your shower- leggings, sports bra, a faded sleeveless band tee with the arm holes having been cut down to around your ribs, and a pair of socks. Damp hair gets gathered up into a messy bun and you walk around your apartment to pick up some things you had unknowingly left out.

You've skipped breakfast, so when there's a knock on your door and you open up to find Bucky standing there, you groan in relief. He raises both hands with paper bags hanging from each. "I come bearing sushi. Wanda let it slip how much you love it."

"Yesss." You step back, quickly taking in his own comfort outfit of sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt under an opened jacket. "Did you bring plenty of wasabi? And you can just kick off your shoes anywhere."

"Of course." He hands you the bags so he can kick off his shoes and strip out of his jacket before hanging it up. You don't know why, but seeing him in a short sleeve shirt makes you happy, knowing full well he was weird about his metal arm being out in the open. "And plenty of dipping sauce as well. Wanda was more than happy to give me advice."

"Wanda, huh?" You chuckle, leading the way to your kitchen. "You actually told her where'd you be?"

"Apparently I looked very pensive this morning. She asked and I figured she was a better confidant than Steve or Sam who would have made a big deal about us hanging out."

"True." Setting the bags down, you let him empty them while you head to the fridge. "Beer?"

"Yeah."

Grabbing him a beer and yourself a can of Cola, you return to the table and your eyes widen at the sight of all the sushi. "Damn, Barnes. That's a lot of sushi."

"Don't act like you won't eat half of it."

You laugh as you take a seat, handing him his beer and pulling a few trays to your side of the table. You take a container of wasabi and dipping sauce for yourself, and grab a pair of chopsticks to start digging in.

You moan in delight at your first taste, happily shimmying in your seat before taking another. Eventually, you ask, "So what are you going to do when I'm back at work and I can't keep you entertained by getting shitfaced?"

Bucky grins around his mouthful of food before chasing it down with a swig of his beer. "We actually got a mission comin' up so I'll be leavin' around mid-week."

"Well that sucks." You sigh. "Now who am I going to send random pictures to when I have downtime at work?"

He grins. "You can still send them to me. I just won't get back to you until after the mission's complete."

"Yeah, yeah."

The two of you continue to eat- Bucky dodging Steve's texts about where he is and when he's coming back, and you sending the middle finger emoji over and over to Wanda who keeps wondering how your date is going. Then once most of the sushi is gone and Bucky puts what little is left into the fridge, the two of you head to the living room. You immediately flop onto the couch as Bucky takes the plush recliner, only for you to hear him moving the chair into its reclined position seconds later.

"Oh. I definitely need to get one of these."

You laugh as he snuggles down and you pick up the remote to bring up your streaming services. "Anything you've been meaning to watch?"

"Not really. Just show me your favorites."

You start off with some humor by playing the Goonies. It's a movie that no matter how many times you've seen it, it always seems to make you laugh. And it seems Bucky is not immune either when they make Chunk to the truffle shuffle. Titanic plays afterwards, but only after making sure Bucky found it somewhat interesting after reading the movie summary to him. He is interested from beginning to end and doesn't even laugh at you when you shed a few tears for the old married couple who opt to stay in their bed as the room floods.

When a break is needed, you head off towards the bathroom as Bucky finishes off the leftover sushi. Both of you check your phones and read each other the missed text messages from Steve and his worrying behavior.

"Wanna tell Steve to fuck off via video message?" Bucky takes a moment to think on it before he grins and nods. "Excellent. Sit in the recliner. I'm gonna crawl up all in your business. That okay?"

"Yeah."

As Bucky gets comfortable in the recliner, you sit on the armrest before sliding down sideways onto his lap. You bring up the camera app on your phone and switch it to video, sliding your right arm behind Bucky's neck while holding your left arm out to capture the two of you on the screen. "Ready?"

"Sure, doll."

You chuckle quietly and then smirk mischievously as Bucky relaxes his expression into his best resting bitch face. After you hit record, you say, "Hey Rogers, stop being a little bitch and sending us text after text. I'm tryin' to fuck your best friend here." Bucky's expression cracks as he barks out a laugh and you turn to face him while grinning. You share a laugh with him before facing the camera once more. "Only joking, but seriously stop buggin' us. I promise to send him back in one piece."

As you prepare to send the text to Steve, Bucky says, "You're terrible."

"Whatever. Admit it, you adore me."

"Occasionally."

You huff another laugh as the video message finally sends. You and Bucky both watch as the delivered status turns to read, and then those three little dots appear as Steve starts typing his reply.

"Tell Bucky to wrap it before he taps it." You burst out laughing at Steve's text, Bucky's rumbling laughter only fueling yours even more. "God I hate your best friend sometimes." And before you climb off Bucky's lap, because honestly you were getting a little too comfortable, you send Steve a few middle finger emojis before deciding on a third movie to watch.

The third movie you choose is one that never fails to make you laugh- Bridesmaids. You had a moment of hesitancy because of the sex scenes, but you figured they were ridiculous enough that it wouldn't be awkward. Thankfully you're correct and you get the added bonus of hearing Bucky's laughter again during Megan's scenes, especially when they get food poisoning and are all fighting for the bathroom.

You and Bucky take yet another break after the film, just stretching and finding something to drink.

"So what's the verdict, Barnes? Are you enjoying the films?"

He grins. "Your taste is all over the place, huh? That last one we watched was raunchy."

"But hilarious! You need to watch the Hangover trilogy, but you definitely need to watch that with Steve and then watch him squirm at the pictures that roll with the credits."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Jurassic Park holds his attention and he can't help but comment how stupid one has to be to replicate dinosaur DNA and then open up a park with live dinosaurs. You laugh, but don't bother commenting. You'll tell him later there are more movies involved, with yet another idiotic man who felt he could get the park up and running once more.

It's getting dark, but it's still a little too early for dinner. One more movie and then you'll order or go out and pick something up.

"So this last one for the day is a movie that's directed more towards the female viewers, but you did ask for my favorite films and Practical Magic is my absolute favorite."

"Well put it on, doll."

As you press play on Practical Magic, you quickly grab a throw blanket and snuggle in. Instead of watching Bucky, you watch the film and mumble certain quotes to yourself. The magic scenes always bring a soft smile to your face just as Gary's confession to Sally of I wished for you too breaks your heart, and Sally and Gillian's heartfelt sister moment makes you cry.

Afterwards, Bucky hums in thought. "So that's your favorite?"

"Absolutely." You tell him. He's watching you curiously and you grin. "If I show you something, you promise not to laugh?"

"I'll try."

"Whatever. That's good enough for me." Standing up, you walk towards him and kneel, and tell him to pull your shirt sideways by the armhole next to your left arm. There on the back of your left shoulder and forever etched into your skin is a salt shaker, a rosemary plant, a lavender plant, and a heart. You then rattle off one of your favorite quotes to him. "Always throw spilt salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck and fall in love whenever you can."

Bucky chuckles as you get up, retaking your spot on the sofa. "You really are a fan of the movie."

You nod. "As a little girl, I was fascinated by magic. I thought I'd grow out of it, but I only grew more fond of it. And then I found Practical Magic and it had a bit of everything I adored."

"So what's the one scene that just gets you every time?"

"Ugh. You're making me choose?!" You feign being distraught and he grins. As you think about it, you keep coming back to two scenes in particular. "So there's two," you tell him, "and I'm not choosing between them." Bucky nods, awaiting your answer. "Gillian's possession. When Sally calls together the other mothers who were mean to her in order to make a temporary coven to save her sister, and Gillian begs Sally to just let her ghost ex have her."

Bucky hums. "That was a bit sad, doll. I saw you shedding a few tears over that."

"Mhm. And the other scene is when Sally comes clean to Gary and admits that she did a spell as a child to call forth her perfect love thinking it wouldn't exist, only it did. When Gary tells Sally that he wished for her too, it just breaks my fuckin' heart."

"Let me guess, you were one of the girls who cast her own spell after seeing that scene." You stay quiet for a moment and the second you feel your face heat, Bucky laughs. "What did you wish for?"

You groan quietly. "If I tell you, you can't laugh!" He only smiles in response and you know he won't drop it until you tell him. "Fine. So even though I knew it would never work, I gathered the weirdest objects and wished for a significant other with dark hair and colored eyes. He had to be protective and funny and love me for me. Simple."

For some reason you can't seem to meet Bucky's gaze then and you feel awkward the longer the silence stretches on.

"So dinner?" He asks.

"Oh god, yes please. Pizza and wings?"

"Sounds good."

You have the nearby pizza place on speed dial, so after finding out Bucky's preferences you make the call and place the order. It's going to be about a thirty minute wait, so you fill the time sending Steve pic after pic of Bucky who's none the wiser as he scrolls through his own phone and adding the most asinine comments to each picture. Steve thinks it's absolutely hilarious.

Then when the pizza and wings arrive, you beat Bucky to the door and thrust several bills at the delivery boy. He's more than happy with his tip and you hurriedly wave him off before shutting the door. You laugh at Bucky's disgruntled expression and then place everything on the table while gathering a beer for both you and him.

"Don't let me have more than two," you tell him while handing him his own bottle of beer.

Bucky agrees and the two of you dig into your own personal pizzas and boxes of wings once you're situated around the table. As you're eating, Bucky asks about what other movies you hold near and dear. You fill him in on a few others and he hesitantly puts it out there that he'd be up for another movie marathon when you both have a day off. You agree that that's doable.

Halfway through dinner, as you and Bucky are chuckling over the thought of making Steve sit through Bridesmaids, there's a sound of glass breaking from your living room and a muffled curse. The two of you immediately cease making any type of noise and Bucky is up with a gun in hand.

"Where the hell did that come from?! You hiss.

The telltale sound of a window then sliding shut can be heard.

"Shut up and get behind me."

The authority in his voice makes you freeze and your heart flutter at the same time, and you have to mentally scold yourself before you quickly do as he says. You follow Bucky towards the living, ready to duck at the ready, only to sigh and roll your eyes when you see who it is.

Bucky stands tall and lowers his gun. "Parker." You can practically hear the annoyance in his voice.

"Mr. Barnes?" Peeking around his shoulder, you raise your eyebrow at your best friend who's been too busy for you and is now frowning at Bucky. When he catches sight of you, he asks, "What's going on?"

"Uh, well we were having dinner until we thought someone was breaking in."

"Alone?!"

Your brow furrows at Peter's incredulousness, only for him to realize you're not impressed with his tone. You raise an eyebrow at him and cross your arms over your chest. "Did you need something?"

"Oh, um, yeah." He shifts from foot to foot, gesturing to his face where there's a scrape on his cheekbone. "My ribs took a beating too. Can you patch me up?"

"Sure." You sigh. "Why not."

Before you can leave to go to the bathroom to get the supplies you need, Bucky says, "I'll just get out of your way then."

You stop and face him. "What? But we haven't even finished our food. It won't take me long."

"It's fine, doll." He grins when he realizes you're trying to get him to stay. "You gotta hit the hay early anyway. We'll talk soon."

You hold his gaze for a moment longer, sighing when he won't budge. "Well at least take your food with you. No use in it going to waste."

Bucky nods and heads back to the kitchen, collecting his food. You watch him and then follow him to the door, holding his food while he bends over to lace up his boots. Once he retakes his food and you open the door, he thanks you for the time away from the tower and disappears down the hall.

Shutting the door and then heading back into the living room, you tell Peter to get back into his regular clothes so you can get to his ribs while you go gather your medical supplies.

Meeting Peter back in the living room and setting everything down on the coffee table, he says, "So you and Bucky-"

"Don't." You pick up the peroxide bottle and soak a cotton ball in it. "Bucky and I are friends."

Peter manages to keep his mouth shut as you clean the scrape on his cheek and place a small bandage on it. Then when you've checked his ribs and tell him he just needs to ice them, he mumbles, "Friends who apparently lick each other." You snort and think nothing of his sullen tone, but when you look at his face you see he's actually being quite serious. There's no chuckle or boyish grin and for a moment you're absolutely floored at his attitude. "I don't think I'm comfortable with Bucky being alone with you in your apartment."

"Are you- are you kidding me?" You huff and take a step back from him. When Peter just continues to frown, you shake your head at him. "First of all, I'm an adult woman who can make her own decisions."

"I know, but-"

"I'm not finished!" You snap. Peter's eyes widen, but he smartly ceases talking. "I am allowed to have friends whether you like them or not. We have a pact, Petey, and since I'm still abiding by it I would hope that you would too."

"Yeah, but that's for significant others!"

"Significant others or friends, it doesn't matter. And you should be grateful I've kept my mouth shut when it comes to you and Leslie because let me tell you, I've been biting my tongue a lot these past few weeks. Bucky and the others have stepped up since you've abandoned me, so you have absolutely no room to tell me that you're uncomfortable with him or any of them being around me."

"Leslie isn't that bad and I have not abandoned you." You snort, but don't bother opening that can of worms even further. He finally gets annoyed with your quietness. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"You're here because you needed a bandage. Tell me, Peter, where are you going after here? Where are you going after making five minutes of small talk and calling it a night?" He opens his mouth and then snaps it shut, shrugs, and you shake your head at him once more in disappointment. "Exactly. Just go, Peter. I'm so over this conversation right now and I have work in the morning."

"Wait, but we promised we'd never leave a conversation where we were still annoyed with each other!"

"And we also promised we'd never judge who the other decided to spend time with, but here we are." He frowns at you. "Go to your girlfriend, Peter. We'll talk again in another few days or weeks or whenever. I don't care right now."

Peter stands there, gaping, before he pulls himself together and makes his way back towards the window he had crawled through. He glances at you one last time, but you merely keep staring until his mask encompasses his head once more and he lifts the window before taking his leave.

As the window shuts behind him, you sag in on yourself and your breathing stutters in your chest as your eyes fill with tears. You've never been this angry at Peter and the fact that he thinks it's okay to ignore you until he needs something and then has an opinion about who you hang out with was just too much for you to let slide.

You quickly gather everything from your coffee table and return it to its rightful place in your bathroom, and throw away the trash. Your appetite is long gone, so you put up what's left of your food and then head to your room to gather some clothes so you can shower and get into bed.

By the time you've crawled into bed, you're still a bit annoyed. So grabbing your phone, you pull up your text messages and click on Bucky's thread.

To Bucky: Well that was a shit show. I don't think I've ever made Petey leave my apartment while we were still angry with each other.

From Bucky: I'm sorry, doll. Anything I can do?

To Bucky: If he gives you attitude, get a non-serum individual to punch him. You, Steve, and probably Nat will send him flying into the wall.

From Bucky: If I remember..

To Bucky: Well I mean if you forget, I won't complain. I'll probably laugh when he comes crying to me.

From Bucky: You're a terrible human being.

To Bucky: Whatever. You adore me just the way I am. And now I should get some shut eye. I'll talk to you soon. Night, Sarge.

From Bucky: Night, sweetheart.

For the next couple of weeks, you keep yourself busy with work. Bucky and a few others do go on a mission as he said they would, so you keep your texts to a minimum of three each day- a good morning, a random story from that day, and a good night. They're gone for four days and in those four days you've not heard from Peter. The only reason you know he's not completely done with you is the fact he likes your posts that you put up on social media.

But since you're not currently speaking to your best friend and are too exhausted to hang out with anyone else, you're in a bit of a funk and completely caught off guard one evening when the patient a police officer brings in smacks you right across the face. You had been trying to insert an IV into his arm when he completely lost his shit, and then you were hit so hard that you were strewn across the gurney behind you. And in your vulnerable position, a fistful of your hair had been grabbed and yanked right before the police officer had intervened and pulled the patient off of you.

You had been given a bit of time to ice your cheek before you had to get back to work, but your face and scalp were hurting you the entire time.

On your way home, however, you're surprised to receive a call from Pepper. You're heading towards your apartment complex when she invites you to dinner there at the tower since Darcy is finally back in town, and you hate to do it, but you're not exactly up to be around such a rowdy bunch. So you apologize to Pepper and ask her to apologize to Darcy for you, and take a rain check. Immediately she knows something is wrong, but you only tell her you had a rough night at work and all you want is a hot shower and to crawl into bed. She hesitates but wishes you well, and the call ends moments later.

When you get home, you waste no time in locking the door behind you and heading straight for your bathroom. You strip down and take the hottest shower your body is capable of handling, and let yourself relax in the steam-filled room. Afterwards, as you're drying off, you gently dry your hair since your scalp is still sensitive and then get dressed in some of your comfort clothes.

Then heading out into the kitchen, you find some leftovers in your fridge and heat those up, tiredly sitting at your kitchen table and digging in. Just as you're done with your food and heading towards the living room, someone pounds on your apartment door. You sigh, hoping they go away, and have only plopped down onto the sofa when a familiar gruff voice speaks through the wood.

You quietly groan as Bucky tells you he knows you're there and you get up to open the door for him. He's on the verge of knocking again when you swing the door open. "Hey. Pepper said-" He trails off as he takes in your appearance, expression going slack before his jaw clenches in anger. "Who?"

You shake your head, gesturing him inside as you turn around and walk towards your sofa. You hear your door click shut before the footsteps follow you. "Work got a little hectic. No need to hunt down anyone, Barnes. I'm fine."

"Half your face is bruised, doll. You are not fine."

"It's all part of my job." You shrug and plop down onto the sofa once more. Pulling a blanket over your lap, you stare up at your friend. "There will always be a drunk and disorderly patient. I was just lucky he didn't do more damage."

Bucky frowns, but he doesn't push you on it. Instead, he walks over and sits next to you, angling his body towards yours when gentle fingers grasp your chin to angle your face more towards him. "What exactly happened?" He asks as his eyes dart over every inch of your face.

"Some petty criminal did some damage to his head in the back of a patrol car. Police officer brought him in and he seemed pretty docile up until I jabbed him with the IV. He got the drop on me. It happens." Gentle fingers brush along your cheekbone and you flinch. Tears sting your eyes as you sniffle. "I'm fine."

"Just because you keep sayin' that doesn't mean it's true."

Your bottom lip wobbles at his words and you lose the battle with keeping the tears at bay. The moment they fall, Bucky pulls you into a hug and you cry into his shoulder. "Dammit," you mumble. "See what you started!"

Bucky chuckles and he holds you a few moments longer, rubbing a hand up and your back to offer a semblance of comfort. When he lets you go, you fall back against the sofa cushions and wipe the tears away with your blanket. "So what are we watching?" He asks while settling in next to you and draping an arm behind your head.

"Shouldn't you go back to the tower and have dinner with the rest of them? I'm-"

"If you say you're fine one more time, I will drag you back to the tower and let Steve motherhen you."

You sigh. "Low blow, Buckaroo."

"And for that horrendous nickname, you've lost the privilege of choosing what we're going to watch."

You laugh and don't bother arguing with him about it as he leans across you to snag up the remote. When he settles back down and you snuggle into his side, you huff a small laugh when he settles on TLC which is showing 90 Day Fiancé.

"Why this show?" You ask.

"Because it blows my mind that some people are so oblivious and can't see that their chosen partner is only in it for the green card."

As you let his reasoning sink in, you can't help but giggle as you picture Bucky sitting in his own apartment and bad mouthing the TV because he didn't like the decisions the people were making in their love life. You watch along with him, cringing at the more obvious couples that are only headed for future divorce and smiling when one of the couples is actually in it for love.

You manage to almost watch a complete two hour episode when there's a knock on your door, but you're too comfortable to get up and answer it.

"You get it," you say as you nudge Bucky.

He nudges you back. "It's your apartment."

"Yeah, but I don't feel like getting up."

"You could have at least come up with a better excuse."

You grin, finally taking your eyes off the screen and glancing up at Bucky. "M'too tired. Brain's not working fast enough." He continues to give you a deadpan stare until you jut out your bottom lip. "Please?"

The second Bucky's lips twitch, you know you've won. He huffs and roughly pushes himself up off the sofa as if answering the door is a hardship, and you go back to watching TV. At least until you hear a familiar voice stammer, "Uh, h-hey Mr. Barnes. Is Y/N home?"

Your gaze snaps towards the door where Peter is standing out in the hallway, hands in his pockets as he sheepishly stares at Bucky. The man in question turns and raises an eyebrow at you as if saying what do I do and you give him a terse nod to let him know it's okay. Bucky steps aside and Peter readily walks in.

"I should be getting back to the tower," Bucky suddenly says. "You kids have fun."

This time it's your turn to give him a deadpan stare and he smirks right before slipping his boots back on. Then as soon as they're laced up, he's walking out the door and shutting it behind him. Peter, who hadn't stopped staring at the intimidating man, finally turns to look at you. And when he does, his eyes widen.

"What happened to your face?!"

You sigh. "I'm fine. Just had a little incident at work."

"And Mr. Barnes was what? Comforting you?"

"First of all, can you stop calling him Mr. Barnes? You two avenge together and what not. I'm pretty sure that means you're on a first name basis." Peter grins as he takes a seat on the recliner near you, shrugging. "And Bucky was here because when I turned down dinner at the tower, Pepper figured something was wrong. Bucky took it upon himself to check in."

"So are you two like a thing or something?" He wonders.

"We're just.. friends," you say. "For some unknown reason we clicked and we're comfortable in each other's company."

For a moment Peter doesn't say anything, nor will he meet your gaze, but then he's looking at you and sighing. "I'm sorry." You blink at him, surprised to hear the apology. "I shouldn't have freaked out that one night. Who you are friends with and who you decide to date is your business."

You finally smile, even though it's rather small. "Thank you. And don't get me wrong, I know you meant well, but you should have dropped it and just trusted my judgment."

"Yeah. I know," he mumbles.

"Soo.. are we good?" You ask.

"Yeah."

"Good. I was getting tired of you liking my posts and not commenting on them."

Peter snorts. A moment of silence passes and then he says, "So you'll be glad to know that Leslie and I aren't together anymore. I broke it off earlier tonight."

You wince. "Sorry."

"Nah. Don't be. She was totally using me for access to the tower." You're torn between being smug about being right and being sad for your friend who just ended his relationship. "I only realized it earlier when she got upset because Mr. Rogers posted a picture of you and Mr. Barnes together, and she had a few choice words to say about it."

"What? Steve posted a picture of us?" You quickly pull out your phone, checking social media for any notifications. There are none, but as you get on Instagram you check Steve's page and sure enough there's a new pic that shows Bucky staring fondly at you as you laugh at something on your phone. "That little shit didn't tag us!"

As your thumbs move furiously to give Steve a piece of your mind and to comment how adorable you and Bucky look, Peter can't help but say, "You're attracted to him."

Your texting falters and you quickly glance at your friend to gauge his reaction, but when he just looks amused, you shrug. "I mean have you seen him? How could I not be attracted to him?"

"Does he know?"

"I have a feeling he does. Asshole likes to fluster me every now and then."

"Well if it makes you feel any better, I'm pretty sure he likes you back." You snort and go back to finishing up the comment on Steve's post. "I'm serious. When we stopped talking, he threatened me. He was pissed that I made you cry and said I was lucky. He's actually really scary when you're on his bad side."

It takes a moment for his words to sink in and when they do you can feel your ears heating up, followed by your cheeks. Peter starts to laugh and you groan in embarrassment. "Why is this so weird? Dating should be easy!"

"Well he is an Avenger.."

"I don't care about that! He's just- he's really, really hot. It's intimidating."

"Wait, what?" Peter huffs. "So you're intimidated by his hotness and not because he's a super-soldier with a metal arm?"

"Well yeah."

Expression melting into one of confusion, your friend eventually shakes his head at you. "You're on your own with that. Good luck."

You hadn't realized how much everyone had known about your and Peter's brief falling out until the two of you were laughing together once again at the tower. It seemed like everyone had sagged in relief now that the two of you were poking fun at one another once more, and you had to apologize for apparently making it awkward for them.

And now that your best friend knew of your crush on a certain super-soldier, there was lots of teasing material. Of course you kept him in line when you could, but there was no stopping the force of Peter, Wanda, and Darcy combined.

It's a random Tuesday night when you've driven over to the Tower, Bucky having called you over for dinner with a few friends. You had the day off so you didn't mind heading on over, but as the elevator doors slide open after having ridden up to the communal floor, you yelp in surprise as the small gathered crows that shout, "Happy birthday!", at you.

Steve, Wanda, Sam, and Peter pop confetti poppers as you step out of the elevator, eyes wide as you glance between each of them. "My birthday is not until tomorrow!" You hiss.

"But you work tomorrow." Wanda frowns.

"Mhm." Your eyes then narrow, glancing behind them at the streamers and balloons hanging from the ceiling. "And how'd you guys even know?"

Everyone glances at Peter and he takes a step back when your gaze slides to him. He chuckles sheepishly. "I might have hid your birthday cupcake here and Steve found it."

"Petey," you groan. "Why couldn't you just hide it at aunt May's like usual? You know I dislike birthday celebrations."

"You don't dislike them. You just dislike all the attention being on you."

"Whatever. Where's Barnes? He's the one who lured me here under false pretenses. I got a bone to pick with him too."

Everyone turns around and Bucky's head appears from around the corner. He smirks and you glare at him. "Not false pretenses. We are having dinner," he says. "It just so happens to be a birthday dinner. And it's running a little bit late, so until the food gets here you get to open presents."

"You guys all suck."

Peter and Wanda each take a hand and drag you further into the room, heading towards the kitchen. Bucky fully steps out from behind the wall and you aim a kick at his shin as you're walking by. He laughs as he easily dodges it and then you're standing by the kitchen island that's been cleared of everything other than birthday presents.

You huff a small laugh and shake your head fondly at them. "I love you guys, but you do know you didn't have to get me anything, right?"

"Shut up and open the presents," Bucky says.

"Open mine first," Sam says, reaching into the small pile and pulling out a white envelope. "Unlike the others, I was literally told within the last thirty minutes we were doing this so yeah. It's not the best present, but I think you'll enjoy it."

You smile at Sam as you open it, chuckling at the plain birthday card and his brief personal message written inside. But it's what else that's inside that makes you meet Sam's gaze once more, smiling fondly at him. "Thank you. I can't get enough of bubble tea and I'm sure I can do some damage with this gift card."

"You're welcome."

"Mine next." Peter reaches in for a medium-sized box and hands it over to you. "I know you're not a fan of presents, so I got you something I actually knew you'd enjoy."

Raising an eyebrow at him, you pull the lid off of the box. Then glancing down, you snort before pulling out a bottle of Patron Silver Tequila. "I knew we were best friends for a reason."

Steve groans. "Please drink responsibly."

"Please. Responsible is my middle name, Rogers." Everyone snorts and instead of trying to remain serious and feign offense, you end up laughing. "Sam and Buck are good babysitters. You have nothing to worry about."

"That's to be determined," he says. "Here. Open mine. I honestly had no idea what to get you, but Peter assured me you'd enjoy this."

Putting the bottle of tequila back in its box, you accept Steve's gift. Pulling off the ribbon, you can't help but laugh when you see what's inside. "Cards Against Humanity." Peter cheers. "We're playing this the next time I have off," you say, grinning at Steve.

"What is Cards Against Humanity?" He wonders. "I just picked it up and boxed it."

"It's possibly one of the most confusing card games or raunchy card games you'll ever play," Sam says. "I, for one, am looking forward to it."

"Thank you, Steve. I seriously can't wait to play it."

"You're welcome."

Wanda claps her hands. "Mine and Darcy's next. She ordered online and I had to pick it up earlier. But, um, I'm not sure you want to open it up in front of everyone."

"Oh god. Don't tell me it's a vibrator."

Sam laughs out loud as both Peter and Steve start blushing. Bucky looks rather amused and intrigued as Wanda slides two boxes over to you. She shakes her head, giggling. "Not quite."

For a brief moment you're relieved, but then her answer sinks in and you're hesitant all over again. You groan. "Is yours safer? I feel like it is. Which one is it?"

Wanda only smirks as she pushes her box towards you. You open it, marvel at its contents, and then put the lid back on much to the boys' displeasure. Trying to keep a straight face, you look at Wanda. "How many sets did you get?"

"There's four. All in colors that will look amazing against your skin tone."

"Thank you. I'll send you pictures when I wear them."

"Yes please! Natasha wants to know how they fit as well. She was the one who suggested them."

"I'll send them to the ladies group chat then."

"Well that's not fair," Sam complains. "First for not showing us what's inside the box and then you guys have a ladies only group chat. I wanna be in the ladies only group chat."

"But then that defeats the purpose of it being a ladies only group chat," you muse.

"Come on," Peter then whines. "What was the present?"

Your gaze slides to Peter, but instead of outright saying what it is, you say, "Think back to that one Halloween night where you wouldn't let me out of the dorm until I switched costumes."

It takes him only a minute to understand and when he does, he snorts. "That wasn't a costume! That was lingerie."

"Whoa, what?" Sam exclaims, grinning.

"Lingerie can be worn as a costume?" Steve wonders.

"I was actually a Victoria's Secret Angel, complete with the most amazing set of wings, and Petey forbade me from leaving the room. It was a sad, sad night."

"As much as I wanna get into that," Sam says, "I wanna know what Barnes got you more."

You chuckle and glance at Bucky, smile faltering when you see him tense. But then he seems to shake himself out of it and offers you a grin. "Open the bigger one first."

Wanda clears away the other presents as Bucky slides his two towards you. You feel giddy as you grab the bigger box, untying the black silk ribbons and lifting the lid. There's tissue paper you open up and you gasp, happily giggling. "You didn't?!"

"Well you did say it was your favorite movie, sweetheart."

"Yes!" You glance up, beaming at Bucky, and your heart swells at his own smile being directed at you. "I really, really love this. I can't wait to hang it up."

"What is it?" Peter wonders, trying to peer across the island.

"It's a quote from Practical Magic," you say and Peter huffs a laugh, knowing full well your love for that movie. You carefully pick it up and turn it around so everyone can see it as you read it off by heart. "Always throw spilt salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck and fall in love whenever you can."

"Aw," Wanda coos. "That's adorable."

"I made Bucky watch this movie a while back," you say. "I need to show it to you one of these days."

"I'm looking forward to it," she says.

With nothing else to say, you place it back in its box and set it aside in favor for the second box. It's a little smaller, but you're excited for it nonetheless. Untying the ribbon and lifting the lid, you immediately laugh at the white petals scattered atop the tissue paper.

"Barnes, you smooth sonuvabitch," Sam mutters.

Steve and Peter laugh, but you're so focused on the notecard that's under some of the petals. Lifting it up, you read the note to yourself because immediately you know it's personal. My better half has to be funny, get along with my friends, won't judge me for my past, and has decent taste in movies.

Heart fluttering, you bite the corner of your lip when it feels like you're smiling way too much.

"Well what does Prince Charming have to say?" Sam asks.

"That's none of your business." You close the note and then tuck into your back pocket, chuckling when Sam and Wanda complain. When you meet Bucky's gaze, you immediately flush and mentally curse yourself when you see him smirk in return.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, you center yourself and then part the tissue paper. You look at the second portrait and gasp after you read it.

"What? What is it?" Peter wonders.

This second portrait is of a hand drawn bowl with a tipped over salt shaker, a small bundle of lavender, a small bundle of rosemary, and a heart beneath it. Above the bowl is a swirl of flower petals and inside the swirl of petals, in very pretty cursive writing, are the words I wished for you too.

Did he just- did he confess his own feelings by using a Practical Magic quote? Or was this just you overthinking his present? You glance to meet Bucky's gaze and at his gauging expression your eyes fill with tears.

"What did you do, Barnes?!" Sam scolds him. "You made the poor girl cry at her own birthday celebration!"

But Bucky isn't paying him any attention, instead he's solely focused on you. You set the present aside and walk around the kitchen island on shaky legs, and Bucky readily reaches for your waist as you grab his face and pull him down into a kiss.

You can't believe you're kissing Bucky, but then he squeezes your waist and returns the kiss, and you know you made the right choice.

Someone gasps, but then the following words let you know exactly who it is. "Darcy is going to be so angry she missed this." Wanda. That is Wanda.

"What the hell is going on?" Sam wonders. "What type of present can cause this type of reaction?"

You smile against Bucky's mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth before falling flat on your feet after having been on the tips of your toes in order to reach his mouth.

"It's my favorite quote from my favorite movie," you say. You turn around to address your friends, but Bucky doesn't let you go far. He wraps one arm around your waist and tugs you back so you're resting against his chest and tucked beneath his chin. "It's a movie about witches," you explain. "These two little girls are being raised by their aunts and they see them performing love spells for a local woman. Basically, one of the young girls refuses to fall in love after witnessing a love spell gone wrong and she does her own spell to call forward a love that would be impossible to find- a man who's favorite shape would be a star and who had one green eye, one blue. Years down the road, the sisters accidentally murder a man."

Sam snorts. "How the hell does one accidentally murder someone?"

"Shush." Wanda admonishes him. "I want to hear the story behind the gift."

You and Bucky chuckle, and you continue to explain. "Anyway, they send in an US Marshall to investigate the disappearance and the one who had done the love spell at a young age starts to fall for this man. She ends up telling him about the murder, but he doesn't quite believe her. Then they're on the verge of hooking up when she gets a good look at his eyes- one green eye, one blue."

"Oh my god. That's so cute!" Wanda says.

"It gets cuter. And sadder," you say. "So she explains to this man about her family, the murder, and how she can't be with him because he's only attracted to her because of a love spell she did when she was just a little girl. At first he's skeptical about this spell bringing him to her, but then he ends up believing her. And as he's walking away from her, he stops to tell her I wished for you too."

"So you made out with Barnes because of that?" Sam shakes his head, chuckling. "Wow."

"It's fuckin' adorable. Stop ruining the moment, Samuel!" Bucky laughs at your words and pulls you closer to him.

"So while I'm happy for Buck," Steve says, "I'm still really curious about what Darcy's gift is."

Peter nods. "Same."

Wanda giggles, but says nothing as she grabs the box and slides it over to you. You groan because you know it can be nothing good, but you still open it since everyone is watching and waiting. As soon as you part the tissue paper and read the box, alongside taking in the picture on the box, your face flames as you shove the lid back on. Wanda cackles.

"I hate her."

"She said to give the remote to-"

"Don't!" You cut Wanda off, blushing even further. "I know who she means to have control of that."

"They- they make underwear that does that?" Bucky muses and you die a little on the inside in embarrassment. You elbow him as he starts to laugh behind you.

Sam instantly knows what the gift is now and starts to laugh, but Steve and Peter apparently need some help.

"Lewis got you vibrating panties, didn't she?"

"Oh my god, Sam, if you don't shut up I'm gonna punch you in the throat."

Steve is torn between laughing and trying not to make you even more uncomfortable, but his amusement wins out. "Given Y/N's flustered state, I'm assuming Darcy wants Bucky to have the remote."

"I mean this seems like it could make for an interesting night."

Everyone laughs at Bucky's sudden interest in the box you're doing your damnedest to keep shut, but luckily Peter steps in. "As much I love watching Y/N squirm, can we get ready to eat? I'm starving."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go wait downstairs for it, kid."

Sam and Peter head for the elevator to take them down to the lobby, and you turn around in Bucky's hold. "Help me take this stuff to my car so I don't have to do it later?"

"Sure thing, doll." He grins. But instead of stepping away, he pushes you further into the kitchen island. You smile as he cages you in and then huff a laugh when he reaches for the box behind you. "So exactly how long do we have to be dating before we can test these out?"

You slowly lean upward so your lips brush his as you say, "I'd say very, very soon if you would put your ass into gear and help me move these presents like I asked."

Bucky laughs and presses a quick kiss to your lips. "Then let's get to it."

The telltale sound of a phone's camera goes off and you turn your face towards the sound. Wanda is beaming, her phone pointed towards you and Bucky. "Darcy wanted evidence I wasn't lying. She's going to be so happy."

Bucky turns his face to look at her then, his cheek brushing against yours where he's yet to back off from you. "Tell Lewis I said thanks for the present. I'll give her my review of them in a few weeks."

Wanda's eyes widen and you immediately blurt, "Don't you dare!" But she's already texting and you know the group chat full of ladies is going to be full of messages that you'll have to reply to later. Quietly groaning, you slap your hands against Bucky's waist and push him back. Looking up at him, you shake your head but the corner of your lips turn up in amusement. "You're terrible. I would threaten to withhold sex, but I've been looking forward to that for a while. I'd just be punishing us both."

"Just tell me when and where, sweetheart, and I'll be there."

"Oh no. You guys are going to be that couple," Steve complains.

And without missing a beat, you face him and say, "Fuck off, Rogers!" Bucky snorts.

"You're cranky when you haven't gotten laid."

You gasp as Bucky bursts out laughing right in your ear, but he quickly catches you as you try to lunge for his best friend. "You know what, I was going to be discreet when banging your best friend, but now I'm going to tell you all the filthy things Bucky likes to do just to annoy you. I will go into excruciating detail about the look and taste of his dick!"

Steve blanches as it's Wanda's turn to burst out laughing. "You've done it now, Steve."

And as Steve looks to Bucky for help, he merely shrugs. "You brought this on yourself, Stevie. Hope you enjoy the play by plays."

Relaxing in Bucky's hold and moving so you're hip to hip with him, you slide your arm behind his waist and hook your thumb into the belt loop of his jeans. "We're going to have so much fun."

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #marvel imagine #peter parker #bucky barnes #wanda maximoff #sam wilson #darcy lewis #the avengers #avengers #avengers imagine #marvel

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riotwritesthings · 4 years

Text

Ode to Yoga Pants

OR the continued terrible mating dance of Bucky and Tony

AKA when betting on your friends stops being fun

Title: Ode to Yoga Pants Collaborator Name: Riot Bucky Barnes Bingo Square Filled: K5, Team Dynamics StarkBucks Bingo Square Filled: O5, “I’d like it if you stayed.” Ship/Main Pairing: WinterIron Rating: M Major Tags & Triggers: Mutually pining morons, humor Summary: OR the continued terrible mating dance of Bucky and Tony, AKA when betting on your friends stops being fun Word Count: 2,282

Here on AO3!

Tony is heading to the gym for Steve’s newly mandated team training time and yeah, he’s late, but he does have coffee. So at least he’s on brand.

It looks like everyone else has beat him here, which isn’t really surprising, and Tony tosses out a grin and wave in response to the unimpressed look Steve shoots him.

Then his eyes land on Bucky. Who is doing one armed pushups. Completely vertically, pointed toes up in the air and strands of hair falling loose around his face where it’s come loose from the hair tie. And he is in yoga pants.

They hug his calves, his ass, his thighs, tight black spandex with gray piping up sides and Tony is weak.

Forget team bonding, Tony needs to get out of here right now, before he makes a fool of himself. Except he spins too quickly, hot coffee sloshing over the rim of his mug and onto his fingers, and he’s so busy hissing over the sharp burst of pain that he walks straight into the door as it swings shut.

“Ack, fuck,” Tony gasps, more hot coffee splashing out across his hand, rubbing at his forehead and apparently he’s a little dizzy because he goes to take a step back and tilts to the side instead, bouncing off the wall.

He’s almost caught his balance, and then he trips over Sam’s stupid jump rope, and then his thighs hit the weight bench and he tumbles backwards over it, the last dregs of his coffee somehow ending up entirely on his chest.

“Damnit Wilson,” Tony grumbles, “I knew you were out to get me!”

There’s a soft chuckle from somewhere above him, and Tony pries his eyes open. He’s half expecting to see Sam, ready to defend himself and deny that he’s trying to kill Tony with workout equipment even though he very clearly is.

Instead it’s Bucky, leaning over him all shirtless and sweaty and concerned.

“You okay, doll?”

When Tony tries to speak all that comes out is a strangled gurgling sound, and Bucky’s concerned look gets deeper.

“Gross, they’re doing it again,” Sam complains, pausing mid situp to shoot a glare across the gym.

When Steve glances away from sparring with Natasha she takes the opportunity to pop him in the throat.

“This isn’t even funny anymore,” Natasha says while Steve coughs and hacks and gives her a dirty look.

“It stopped being funny weeks ago,” Rhodey says as he leans against the ropes of the boxing ring and shakes his head in disappointment.

“You’re just saying that because that’s when you were officially out of the betting pool,” Clint says with a snort.

“I really didn’t think it would take them this long,” he says with a morose sigh, “I’m ashamed.”

Steve makes a sound that might be agreement.

“New bet, how much worse can it possibly get?” Sam tries to joke, but he has a terrible feeling that it’s not a joke at all.

“I think we’re all the losers in that bet,” Natasha says as they all watch Bucky help a still clearly-swooning Tony out of the gym.

The poor pining morons don’t even notice they have an audience. Just like Bucky somehow doesn’t notice that Tony is literal putty in his hands, and Tony mysteriously doesn’t notice Bucky giving him the sappiest heart eyes ever.

It’s shameful, is what it is.

Tony lets Bucky drag him into the kitchen, sinks onto one of the stools when gently pushed in that direction, and he’s becoming uncomfortably aware that his shirt is still splattered with cooling coffee and probably clinging to his chest.

He should probably go change, and then maybe go hide out somewhere until he figures out how to deal with Bucky in yoga pants.

But before Tony can figure out how to convince his legs to actually move, Bucky is done digging around in the freezer and by his side again.

“Ow,” Tony says with an exaggerated wince as Bucky presses a bag of ice to the back of his head, and then nearly melts out of his seat when Bucky shushes him with a wide palm running down the back of his neck.

He’s not actually as rattled as Bucky seems to think he is, but Tony certainly isn’t going to correct him. It’s a much safer excuse than admitting his brain went to mush the second he saw Bucky’s thighs, all wrapped up and accentuated in tight black spandex, and it still hasn’t quite come back online.

From here, with Bucky standing beside him and gently holding his head still while Tony stares studiously at the floor, all Tony can see of Bucky is his foot. The tight black fabric ends just above the delicate bones of his ankle, his bare toes wiggling against the tile floor as he pulls the ice away and inspects Tony’s head.

Forget getting his brain working again, Tony is just trying to keep his stupid heart from crawling its way up his throat over ankles. Like some kind of repressed Puritan, Jesus.

Which means he can’t at all stop himself from nervously stuttering out “Those-those are uh, nice... you like yoga pants huh?”

There’s a vague sense of motion beside him, like Bucky is shrugging, as he says “They’re comfortable.”

“Uh huh, they-“ Tony starts to say, and then nearly swallows his tongue when Bucky steps around in front of him again.

His eyes automatically drag upwards, and it takes everything Tony has not to let himself linger, not to get caught staring at the frankly mouthwatering bulge of Bucky’s cock that his skin tight leggings are not doing a very good job of hiding.

He jerks his gaze up higher and it doesn’t help because oh god there’s Bucky’s chest, still bare and so close and by the time he finally manages to make himself look up at Bucky’s face he can’t breathe.

“They- uh, s-sure look it,” Tony stutters out, and furious blushing is totally a symptom of a concussion, right?!

Bucky’s smile stays warm and friendly, so he’s probably alright.

And all Bucky says is “You should try them! I can send you the site I got ‘em from, Nat recommended it to me.”

“Okay,” Tony squeaks and damnit he’s actually going to have to buy some yoga pants now. There’s no other way to play off his sudden fascination with them.

A week later, everyone has lost the bet.

They find the two morons asleep together on the couch, legs tangled and blankets wrapped around them both.

The entire team agrees it’s the most disgusting thing they’ve ever seen.

Steve is taking his frustrations out on a punching bag when Bucky suddenly ducks behind the bag, grabbing it and holding it still so he can hide behind it.

“What is this, why are you doing this?” Steve demands, rhythm thrown and half-debating just punching the bag anyways in the hopes that it’ll shake Bucky loose.

“Steve,” Bucky hisses, like he somehow hasn’t noticed that he already has Steve’s full attention, “Steve, I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

“What are you talking about?”

Bucky’s head pops out from around the punching bag, eyes fixed on something across the gym as he hisses “Tony bought yoga pants.”

Steve turns and sure enough, Tony and Natasha are standing near the sparring mats in matching black and gray patterned spandex.

“Does Nat get money every time she talks someone into buying those?” Steve has to wonder, because she has been relentlessly texting him the link too.

“Steve,” Bucky hisses again, “Steven. I can’t- how do I even- Steve-“

“What?!” Steve demands impatiently, because he really wants to go back to punching things, and not thinking about the awkward mating dance of his best friends.

“Look at his ass!”

Steve huffs and resists the urge to gag at the open reverence in Bucky’s tone. He does turn though, just in time to watch Tony bend over in a low stretch.

“Perfect little bubble, I just wanna bury my face in it and live there,” Bucky sighs.

“Huh,” Steve says, tilting his head a little to get a better view because damn, Bucky is not exactly wrong- “Ow!” He squawks when Bucky swings the punching bag into him, “you’re the one who told me to look!”

“Not like that!” Bucky snaps back. It looks like he’s considering hitting Steve with the punching bag again, and Steve holds up a single finger in warning.

“Do not,” he says sternly.

Bucky settles for just hugging the bag instead, gaze already drifting across the gym again. Steve has a terrible feeling he’s not going to get back to his workout.

“Please just ask him out,” Steve says plaintively, “pretend to act like a functional person.”

“How am I supposed to function when faced with The Most Amazing Ass Ever™️?!” Bucky demands, and then makes a weird whimpering sound as Tony no doubt does something. Like existing.

Steve refuses to look over, instead just sighing out “Get off my punching bag, you’re making this so weird.”

“I’m filin’ a complaint,” Bucky says, clearly not listening to him anymore and still staring with rapt attention at where Tony is apparently doing something fascinating. “These pants are supposed to be ‘super stretchy’ but they clearly did not count on boners cuz my dick is strangled.”

“Excuse me,” Steve says, already walking away, “I need to go vomit.”

Hell, next week he might skip mandatory team training.

Tony is laying on his stomach on the common room floor, propped up on his elbows as he pokes at his phone and kicks his feet lazily in the air.

He’s wearing bright red yoga pants today, and even Clint is not immune.

He catches himself after a couple seconds of staring at the swell and bounce of Tony’s ass, and gives himself a vigorous shake. That’s a good way to earn the Winter Soldier Death Glare.

Even if said Winter Soldier is too much of a disaster to actually do anything about his super obvious crush.

“So are yoga pants just the new thing?” Clint asks, climbing over the back of the couch and keeping his eyes safely on Tony’s face, because he does not want to be assassined to death today. “You’re just gonna wear them all the time?”

“They’re comfortable,” Tony says with an absent shrug, then grins up at Clint and wiggles his eyebrows as he adds “Plus, they make my ass look great.”

And Clint can’t exactly argue that, so instead he just flatly says “You’re going to give Barnes a heart attack.”

Tony looks confused for a split second, and then smiles widely.

“Because I pull them off so much better than he does?” he asks, striking a pose, and Clint seriously considers running away to join the circus. Again.

He’s not even sure if things will actually be better if they eventually get together at this point.

He should make that the new bet.

“I’m just saying,” Tony insists, and then raises his voice when Steve put his head down on the table and starts humming under his breath, “If I thought Bucky was actually interested, I would 100% be here for him. With open arms-“

“Well that’s actually kind of-“

“And open legs-“

“Tony-“

“And an open mouth,” Tony finishes, grinning and winking when Steve looks up at him with a glare.

“Tony, please, I don’t want to hear this,” Steve says, hands over his ears and he does actually look a little green.

“This is nothing,” Tony says with a scoff, giving Steve an unimpressed look, because he is weak. “You should hear the shit I say to Rhodey.”

“I would like to hear those things,” says a voice directly behind him.

Tony freezes, his entire body going cold, because he knows that low, warm, rumbling voice. He hears it in his dreams, and oh no oh no oh no, now Bucky knows.

So much for his plausible deniability.

His brain kind of goes staticy with panic for a second, and he’s only dimly aware of Steve rolling his eyes.

“Yeah my part in this conversation is done,” Steve says, and promptly bails.

When Tony’s brain finally reboots he finds that Bucky has taken Steve’s seat across the kitchen table.

Bucky is also just grinning at him, like he doesn’t find Tony’s borderline-obsessive crush at all creepy.

All Tony can think to say is “What.”

And then he realizes he doesn’t actually want an answer, doesn’t want to find out if Bucky is going to make fun of him, or if he thinks it’s all a joke. He can’t decide if that would actually be better or worse than being turned down gently, and he doesn’t intend to stay and find out.

“I’m just...” Tony sputters, face burning as he flails his way out of his chair, “Gonna- gonna go. Run away. Yep.”

“Wait,” Bucky says, eyes wide and halfway out of his own chair.

Tony freezes, because Bucky looks a lot like he feels. Thrown, surprised, confused and so hopeful that it’s terrifying.

“I-I’d like it if you stayed,” Bucky says slowly, then smiles crooked and nervous as he adds “Not that I don’t like watchin’ you walk away.”

It startles a laugh out of Tony, face flushing as he sinks back into his chair. “Okay,” he says, heart racing and smile almost painfully wide, “um, what?”

Bucky laughs, soft and low and warm, and finally finishes reaching across the table to take Tony’s hand in his own.

Clint wins the bet on how much worse their lives get once the love-struck morons start making out all over the place.

#my fic #winteriron #starkbucks #bucky/tony #starkbucksbingo2020 #buckybarnesbingo2020 #im not sorry for this either

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cornholio4 · 4 years

Text

Ladybug is Team Cap

@nobodyfamouspostsAuthor’s Note: This is based on a post some time ago on Tumblr by Nobodyfamousposts or ChaoticNeutral on AO3 talking about how Marinette would be Anti Accords. I decided to go with this and while I understand points made by Pro Accords and Team Iron Man; I am ultimately Anti Accords and Team Cap. Team Iron Man writers please feel free to write your stories but us Team Cap get to write ours.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng as Ladybug was making another appearance as a guest for Nadja Chamack’s show Face to Face and it had been going well; she was answering Nadja and the callers’ questions well enough. Chat Noir had said that he unfortunately had another appointment in his civilian life and wouldn’t be able to attend. Then came a caller and it was a political analyst. He asked the question that set off a chain of events:

“Ladybug; you know of the Sokovia Accords and though it is currently unknown if France will end up signing.... If they do; could we expect you to be first in line to sign?”

Marinette paused and even Nadja was taken aback; the audience were holding their breath. Marinette was going to be in a deep panick as she had read about the Accords and it kind of scared her. Especially since she had her own super powers and if she had to register her real name and would have people looking over her and deciding when and should she acts. Of course in her latest interviews for Alya’s Ladyblog; Alya was not that interested in politics and hadn’t even brought the issue up with Marinette and their friends. She didn’t know whether to ignore the question but remembered that she had quietly decided her stance and now it would be a time to go ahold of it.

Nadja was about to dismiss the caller but Marinette stopped her as she faced the cameras; “whether or not France signs the Accords is irrelevant to me; no matter what I won’t be signing anything that involved giving my identity away. Not only that but it could mean that I would have people looking over me and deciding to let me intervene when people need my help now? That won’t work for me and while I respect the wishes of those who do register; I am afraid for those with powers who didn’t wish for them but will be held under scrutiny by the invisible Accords panel. Who knows if they decide they will be used as Superheroes regardless of their wishes; or if those who do will be forced to fight for sides that they don’t agree with.” Marinette spoke with a determined no nonsense look on her face.

The TV producers were deciding whether to cut the feed but got calls from the higher ups demanding they let the show continue on for the remainder; one of Paris’ few Superheroes publicly putting out her stance on a political issue was juicy news.

“But are you saying you are okay with Captain America and the Avengers ignoring borders and doing what they wanted? Plus what about Lagos, Vienna, New York and Washington?” The analyst asked and Marinette thought it over.

“I do agree that us Superheroes need oversight and we should and will face our mistakes head on but I don’t agree that the Accords are the answer. I do hope that there are safeguards and I should know of them and discuss them with them on print before I sign my real name anywhere.” Marinette said before glaring harder. “Plus the other point which I find ridiculous; are you saying I and Chat Noir should be blamed for everyone of Hawk Moth’s Akumas and attacks?” Marinette asked and the analyst looked flustered and in confusion shook his head.

“My heart goes out to those lost and affected by those horrible events and i do agree Wanda might have been careless a bit in Lagos but it was a tough one minute decision and she was doing her best to save lives form what I heard in the reports. But the masked thug was responsible for his bomb and now the stupid points. Why do you think the Avengers should be blamed for the fact that aliens were invading? You think all the Avengers should be blamed that one member decided to build a robot that apparently none of the other Avengers knew about and he went out of control. You are saying Captain America should be blamed for the fact that HYDRA infiltrated the major governments and intelligence agencies in the world and they were planning a mass killing spree.” Marinete said and everyone was silent at this.

“I don’t go for trends or debates but I read that because Mr Stark is the main Avenger supporting the Accords and Captain America is the main Avenger going against the Accords: that online people are asking if they are Team Iron Man or Team Cap. Well I am Team Cap I guess; I would go for a boy scout than a crazy billionaire anyway.” Marinette said with a chuckle before going serious again. “But seriously; I will end up saying this: I wish the governments and media would stop blaming Superheroes for the actions of the villain.” Marinette said before deciding to Bug Out.

The interview pretty much went viral and all of Paris and Europe went crazy for the first time a Superhero had actually went on public media and spoke up against the Accords. Alya was more than happy to make the headline about Ladybug being Team Cap. Chat Noir when he next saw her said he stood by her decision.

A lot of Ladybug fans began supporting her stance on the Accords with Team Cap tweets, replies and shirts. This raised Anti Accord sentiment in the country with rallies and it reached about most of the world. Marinette was amazed at what she started when she saw her fellow students wearing Team Cap shirts and even Principal Damocles got in on the action.

She had been expecting Tikki to chew her out but what little Tikki said of it pretty much implied she agreed with Marinette’s stance and words.

There was a meeting with Accords officials with the Prime Minister of France that included US Secretary of the State Thaddeus Ross who seemed to be the unofficial head of the Accords Committee and Tony Stark. He in his Iron Man armor tracked Ladybug down after a battle and did his best to try and convince her to support the Accords and there seemed to be an implied threat. She vehemently refused and allowed the crowd to come forward and start booing the armored Avenger forcing him to retreat.

This stirred Anti Iron Man sentiment in France but soon after that there seemed to be masked mercenaries with dangerous technology that were trying to kill Ladybug. She began fighting them a bit afraid for her life as these were terrorists and not magical Akumas.

However she had unexpected help from none other than Captain America leading his faction of rogue Avengers (though the Anti Accords people just called the group Avengers) Sam Wilson the Falcon and Natasha Romanoff the Black Widow. They were quickly subdued and Marinette was more than happy to squeal about how much of an honour this was. Steve Rogers flashed a smile and told her that the honour was all theirs.

Then came in Thaddeus Ross with his personal Accords soldiers telling them they were under arrest and Ladybug will be as well for insisting an international fugitive. Then came the civilians forming a protective guard around the Superheroes demanding they leave the Heroes. The police joined in with Ross screaming they were obstructing justice.

Marinette was a bit frightened but then came France government officials including the Prime Minister who personally told the Avengers and Marinette that they had their upmost gratitude. Marinette was doing her best to hide her excitement about being honoured by the Prime Minister of France himself.

Ross was about to talk to the prime minister when the government agents began telling Ross’ soldiers to drop their weapons as they began arresting the terrorists. Ross was surprised when he felt his hands being forced behind his back and cuffed as he was being read his rights; Ross demanded if they knew who he was.

“A Secretary of the State of a single country and an official of a treaty that might country has not signed; you maybe all big and powerful in your country but you have no such power and I will be campaigning you to have any diplomatic immunity withdrawn.” The Prime Minister told him as they were taken away.

Soon the investigation turned out that the terrorists were hired by Ross to take care of Ladybug and get her Miraculous for use by the Accords committee; that and they were involved in a terrorist ring to use alien reverse engineered weapons supplied by a sect of the US Government. This caused public outcry and the Prime Minister made it public that France will not signing the Accords.

This caused outcry in European countries that withdrawn from the Accords and more Anti Accords sentiment was spread in the US. The US Government were quick to disavow Ross and his supporters; they began investigating the Chitauri weapons. Ross was removed from the Accords committee and stripped of all positions and disgraced by the US Government; he was to be tried in the UN court for war crimes.

More countries began to withdraw from the Accords and soon they were voted away; the Avengers were allowed pardons by the countries and were willing to work with them to find a compromise with them.

Marinette read some time later that in the US Election; Steve Rogers was made a write in candidate and he won by a landslide; the new reluctant US President Steve Rogers was seen with the new field leader of the Avengers Natasha Romanoff, the Secretary of Defense James Rhodes, his Vice President Sam Wilson and at his inauguration there was T’Challa the King of Wakanda there as an ally.

Ladybug was invited to America by Steve who managed to find her identity but said the secret was safe with her; the trip there with her parents was disguised as a sweepstakes that they had won. President Rogers was in New York and Marinette got to meet a sweet kind and adorably dorky nerd Peter Parker who it turned out also had super powers and was the Spider-Man.

Who knew how all of this had sprung from a TV interview?

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pocketfulofrogers · 5 years

Text

Solace

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You’ve recently switched to the night shift and the adjustment hasn’t been great. Your neighbor would agree.

Notes: This is a part of @buckygrantbarnes writing challenge! I chose concept #5: Character and Reader are neighbors, and Reader keeps waking Character up by setting a really loud alarm in the middle of the night.

I know this is a smidge late, but life has been crazy! Thanks for hosting, I had a lot of fun writing this!!

Steve Rogers considers himself a reasonable man, he really does. He remains patient with the trainees while he shows them new techniques again and again until his mind melts, taking each clipped jaw in stride. He even always smiles at the children trying to climb his body in their excitement when all he wants is a coffee.

During those precious moments he isn’t in the suit, he’s a very quiet, laid back man.

Which is why he’s gone two months without breaking down your door in the middle of the night when he hears that shrill, incessant alarm you seem to be immune to seeping through the shared wall.

He’s been tortured before. This is worse.

Each time he comes home from a mission, peels the Kevlar from his body, and sinks to his bed, your alarm steals away the hope of a quick slumber and he loathes you for it.

Sam tells him to try writing a letter, Natasha offers to break in and steal it.

He considers both options, the latter more seriously, until one afternoon he runs into you after his morning jog. The elevator doors are almost closed when he shoves his hand in the small opening. He mutters an apology, but hears no response.

You’re leaned on the wall, arms crossed before your chest, head resting against the metal and for a moment he thinks you may actually be asleep.

He doesn’t say anything, he’s been there.

“6B right?” You mumble. He’s not sure he’s heard you correctly. “I’m 6A. I think I’ve seen you around.”

When you look over at him, his stomach flops, does somersaults in his belly. You look positively wrecked. The light blue scrubs you’re wearing are splattered and stained with various colors, and the bags under your eyes are deep enough he’s almost concerned for your health.

Yet he thinks you may be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Uh- yeah, Steve.” He manages.

You nod and go back to resting your head. “Y/N.”

He imagines he may be more tolerant going forward.

He tries to catch you again in the following weeks, but your schedule seems to be more unpredictable than his. That stupid, stupid alarm still wakes him most nights, but he finds it easier to suffer through now.

One night he comes home after a long mission. Exhaustion weighs his body enough he almost considers passing out by the door, but after days of sleeping on dirt floors, his back is pleading for the comfort of his bed.

Looking at his watch he knows he has about 45 minutes before you have to be up for work. Maybe it’s the hope that for one night he could have a restful sleep, or perhaps the humidity of the jungle had just escaped had dissolved his patience, but his feet have padded their way to the hallway before he truly knows what he’s going to do.

Barefoot before your door, he knocks. Once. Twice. Then a third time.

He waits patiently until he hears you mumble something less than kind from behind the door and finds himself smiling at the irony.

Having someone pound on your door at midnight, ripping you from a dead sleep, is only about the third worst thing to happen to you this week.

You fling the door open. “Do you have any…“

Of all the people it could’ve been, Martha from 5A coming to complain about nonexistent noise, the new mom from 6F asking you to check out her baby for the third time this week, or the teen from 2 trying to convince you he definitely needs a medical marijuana card, a very tired Captain America leaning on your door frame is the last thing you expected.

He raises a brow at your unfinished threat. “Ah yes, 12:09. 21 minutes before your alarm.”

You furrow your brows. “How do- “

“Look,” He interrupts, pushing off from your door frame, you don’t miss his wince- the way he favors his right side. “I know you probably have a very important job, and getting up in the middle of the night for shifts like those must be brutal, but I’ve just gotten off quite a draining ‘shift’ myself and was hoping that for at least one night you could just not.”

You’re catching on. “’Just not?’ Are you talking about my alarm?” He nods. You’re stunned, having thought that with as much as you pay a month, the walls would’ve been much thicker. Or is it really that loud? Adjusting to the night shift had been rough. “Oh, wow, I am so sorry.”

He shakes his head and points to his ear. “Super good hearing, don’t worry about it. Thank you.” He turns to walk away and that’s when you notice his limp, and the blood.

“Woah, wait. Did you have anyone look at that?” You point at his leg and he shrugs, giving you a less than assuring ‘it’s fine’ and goes to open his apartment door. “Uh- no. That’s a 6-inch lac that’s still actively bleeding? Are you insane? Please, let me take a look.”

“That’s very kind, but-“

“Your ribs could also be broken and I’ll just spend all day worrying about if you died in your sleep from a punctured lung or something. I can’t have Captain America’s death on my conscious.”

He takes a moment to look you up and down and weighs his chances of being able to talk his way out of whatever this is. He’ll heal on his own, eventually, but the look in your eyes tells him he’d have more luck trying to convince Martha he doesn’t actually stomp around just to annoy her.

“Alright.”

Managing to get Steve to strip down to some shorts and a tank top, he’s sat at your kitchen table. It took you a solid five minutes to convince him that he needed stitches, and lucky for him, you steal suture kits.

“You know, when you told me your name it would’ve been the perfect moment to mention you’re Steve as in Steve Rogers.” You lightly chastise, holding pressure to his thigh.

He doesn’t even flinch. “Not like I was hiding it. You did look right at me.”

You laugh. “Well I had just gotten off a 36-hour shift, you cannot hold that against me.”

He watches quietly as you work, forehead creased with worry and constantly mumbling about how he’s lucky there’s no signs of infection, with an occasional ‘you really weren’t going to do anything about this’. He finds your commentary amusing.

Your fingers glide across his skin and your touch is faint enough it almost tickles. You’re worried about nerve damage, but he thinks you’re just that good.

With a pile of red stained gauze by your side and the area around his wound as clean as you could get it, you grab a lamp from your desk and pick up the needle with your hemostat. Well, not yours, really. Also stolen, but sterile!

When you hold the needle up and adjust your grip on the clamp, he gives you a wary look.

“What?”

“I don’t know how I feel about a thief stitching me back together.” He says with a raised brow. There’s a glint in his eyes, the smallest twitch at the edge of his lips.

You roll your eyes. “With as hard as they work me, this is the least they owe me.”

“What do you even use them for?”

Your quite for a moment. “Sewing.” You say quietly and he barks a laugh. “I just- hush, don’t distract me.”

He complies and sits back to watch you fondly. Your teeth sink into the pillow of your lip each time you push the needle into the flesh of his thigh. You had apologized for not having any kind of numbing agent, but he had assured you that he’d be just fine.

Still, you glace up with each pull to make sure it’s not some macho show. Then again, he was Captain American and by the look of him at this moment, the pinch of a needle is probably more an annoying after thought than anything else.

Cutting the last stitch, you place the bandaging and offer him a smile. He thanks you sincerely, but you tsk when he tries to get past you to the door.

“Shirt off.” You order. He takes a half step back, cocks his head to the side and smirks. How he could be even slightly amorous at this moment is beyond you. “I want to check your ribs, make sure nothing’s displaced.” Something in his eyes shifts, he’s hesitant- guarded- and you’re unsure why. “I haven’t seen you take a single normal breath in the time you’ve been here. A simple, quick exam can tell me if there’s anything to worry about.”

He looks away and you’re about to suggest that he just check in with the medical team at wherever it is that super people work. They have to have medical staff, right? You tuck that question away for later.

Steve looks back to you and nods before pulling the white cotton over his head.

You would be completely stunned at the site of his quite perfect physique if it weren’t for the bruises blossoming bright red and dark purple across his torso.

You catch yourself moving closer, reaching forward to graze a finger around the outline of the prominent colors. “Jesus, Steve.” You whisper.

“Heard that phrase before, never in a situation like this, though.” He mumbles, but you ignore him and begin to prod as carefully as you can.

When you apply pressure to a certain spot that looks the most concerning, his breath exhales quickly in a hiss. “Sorry.” You mumble and find yourself asking how this happened before you can stop yourself.

He grabs your hand in his to stop your exploring fingers. The memory from these injuries hadn’t quite made their way through him yet. They sat too fresh on the forefront of his mind and being this vulnerable before someone he barely knows is quickly becoming too much.

“I’m fine, darlin’, really.” He says softly. You of course don’t buy it for a minute, but the proximity of him steals your fight, you lose your argument in the blue of his eyes.

“Ice it.” You order weakly. “Maybe just bruised, probably fractured.”

He nods, twitching the edges of his lips into a smile. Your hand is still in his and he brings it up to ghost your knuckles against his lips before thanking you again.

He leaves you there, stunned. You’re 15 minutes late for work.

“Wait. You had the Steve Rogers in your apartment half naked?” Your friend prods during your lunch break. You nod and lower your forehead to rest against your coffee cup. “And you didn’t even take advantage, kudos to you. Wait, is this a HIPAA violation?”

You sigh and look up to meet her narrowed eyes. “Honestly, I don’t know. Wouldn’t be surprised if SHIELD took me out, though.”

“Is that even a thing anymore? I can’t keep up with that craziness.” She shakes her head.

“Guess I could ask my neighbor, but I doubt he’d tell me the truth.”

“You have to see him again. You’re going to see him again right?” You try to ignore the excitement in her voice.

“He is my neighbor and those sutures have to come out eventually. Although he’ll probably just rip them out himself.” The thought makes you cringe.

“You know that’s not-“

Thankfully your pager goes off right then, cutting her interrogation short. “Sorry! Incoming trauma, gotta bounce.”

Steve comes home that evening to ice packs with the nearby hospital logo on them by his door. “Stop stealing from work.” He calls out and is rewarded with your laughter floating out from under your door.

He starts to make a habit of it, showing up at your doorstep sometimes bruised, usually bloody. You start to keep a bigger stock of supplies around, and worry on the nights he doesn’t show before you leave when you know he’s on mission.

He tries to message you when service and circumstance allows, just to ease you mind.

Every once in a while, you’ll find him sitting in the hallway beside your door, waiting with food and some injury that needs your attention.

Eventually you get around to asking him if there just isn’t any medical staff where he is, he tells you this is just more convenient. You don’t prod, but think it may have more to do with the way you treat him. Like a patient, a person, not an Avenger.

One night a knock awakes you in the middle of the night. You jump out of bed, knowing it’s most likely him. When you open the door and lay eyes on him, your heart stops.

He’s leaned against the doorway, barely able to hold himself up. There’s blood on the wall, his hands, his face, everywhere. He’s ghostly pale and you can tell he can hardly focus his eyes.

Before he can pass out, you wedge yourself under his arm and try to guide him inside.

“Probably shoulda just went to medical, shouldn’t’ve driven.” He tells you before collapsing onto your couch and you work quickly to get his suit off, apologizing each time he groans in pain.

“Oh god, Steve.” You whisper eyeing the deep gash on his side and quickly apply pressure.

He grunts. “I hope to hear you say something like that under different circumstances one day. You know, not in horror at the state of my health.”

“Well, don’t only show up when you’re hurt.” You shoot back and tape the gauze in place so you can get a line started. You had hoped he’d never show up this hurt, but a part of you can be relieved that you were prepared for it.

“Hey, I brought you food at work last week.”

You ignore that. “Steve, this is bad. Really bad. What the hell were you thinking?”

Ignoring his half assed excuse, you get to work, quickly and tensely, mumbling your thoughts and a few vague threats about him not being allowed to die on you.

“Don’t worry, darlin, wouldn’t dream of goin’ anywhere.”

Once you get the bleeding under control unlike your emotions, you start to lay into him. Loudly. Your reaction is to be blamed on fear, the absolute nightmare that the man before you, who you’ve reluctantly become very attached to, could have actually died in your arms.

“I mean, seriously, Steve! How could you be so reckless?”

He drapes his arm over his eyes. “I like you more than the docs we have.”

You huff and begin cleaning the rest of him up. “I’m sure they’re just as good at their jobs.”

He shakes his head and willingly gives you the arm resting above him when you reach for it. “You’re better.” He states simply and you snort your disbelief. “Your hands are softer. I think your touch reminds me I’m still human.” He says quietly, eyes trained on the ceiling.

Your movements stall, his admission leaving you a little dazed. When he tilts his head to look over at you, you swear you stop breathing.

“I think I’ll always prefer you.”

The rational part of you is telling you to just chalk this up to blood loss, not to get your hopes up because this could get so complicated. But the other part, oh the hopeful part, was singing.

“I think I prefer you too.”

He laughs. “As a patient? Neighbor? Avenger?”

“Oh, come on now.” You start seriously. “The Black Widow went to Capitol Hill and basically told congress they wouldn’t arrest her because they didn’t have the balls. She will always be my favorite. You might be a close second.”

“Might be?”

“You’re first for everything else. Take the win, Steve.”

It only takes five minutes and two bribes to convince him to stay the night and that you should call out of work to keep an eye on him. He had protested, given you every excuse he could come up with, but you are well versed in the language of Steve Rogers.

You set a takeout menu from his favorite place before him during the middle of his ‘you have already done so much for me’ speech and he grumbles out an ‘alright’.

He awakes just after dawn to your head on his thigh, your body tucked tightly between his leg and the couch, and the intro music to some infomercial droning in the background. The last thing he wants to do is move, he could watch you like this all day. Maybe one day he’ll get to.

When you finally wake up, he’s gone. There’s a blanket from the laundry room draped over you and the smell of him still on your pillow.

A part of you is hurt, but you’re not quite sure why.

You don’t hear from him for two weeks.

Some coworkers suggest going downtown to blow of some steam and, since you knew Steve was home all week out of harm’s way, you agree. It’s not often you get to go out stress free.

However, mixing alcohol with a list of fairly serious questions that only one extremely handsome and infuriating super soldier could answer isn’t the greatest idea. Especially when said blue-eyed day dream lives right next door.

It isn’t long before you’re stumbling up to his door, despite the warnings of everyone that night that you absolutely should not. 2am wasn’t that late and when you get an idea in your head it’s hard to shake it.

He answers faster than you thought he would and his amused expression only distracts you for a few moments.

“You’re drunk.” He points out, trying to withhold a grin.

You scrunch your nose. “A smidge.”

“Lose your key?”

“No. Well… maybe. But that’s not why I’m here.” You take a step forward, place a hand on the door frame to steady yourself, and point a single finger at him. “I have questions that need answers, Cap. Let me in.” He raises his brows. “Please.” You add and he obliges.

You make your way to his kitchen and take a seat at the island, he trails in behind you. “Would you like some water? I think you should have some water.”

He sets a glass before you when you don’t reply, but with his eyes watching you, concern in the crease of his brow, you suddenly feel vulnerable- exposed. Where had that burning rage at him for leaving you without a word gone? Why had you been so angry to begin with?

It’s difficult to sift through the thoughts in your head, and the alcohol wasn’t exactly making that easier. What was the word for what you felt? Used? Forgotten? The last thing you wanted to do was sound like a needy child.

He leans forward onto the counter before you. “What’s on your mind, darlin’?”

Instead of meeting his eyes, you run the tip of your finger through the condensation on the glass, watch it pool on the marble.

“Talk to me. What is it?” He asks again

Suddenly you wish you had just gone home.

You chug the water. “It’s nothing, never mind. I’m just gonna go to bed.”

He steps in front of you before you can make it to the door, pleads with you again to just talk to him. You try to get past him, but his hand on your hip makes you freeze. He trails it up your side, grazes his knuckles up your arm. His fingers stop below your chin to gently tilt your eyes up to his.

His lips have barely parted to form his next plea when you cut him off. “What am I to you.” You barely whisper.

That catches him off guard.

“If this is just a convenience thing for you, I need to know.” He looks confused but you power through before he can respond. “Maybe your admission was just the blood loss talking and you disappeared to keep me from getting attached, although it’s a little late for that. Or, maybe there’s someone else. Which is fine-“

“Do you think I’m using you?” He appears hurt at the insinuation and suddenly it’s difficult to meet his eyes. “Look at me. Is that what you really think?”

“I don’t know what to think, Steve.”

He crashes his lips to yours. A sudden almost desperate act that leaves you useless. Your brain stalls and suddenly he is all there is.

It’s needy and messy, but it is everything you needed. You thread your fingers through his hair and press yourself to him. The soft feel of him steals your hurt, dissipates that pit in your stomach, and you could almost hate him for it.

He pulls away, breathless. “What part of ‘I will always prefer you’ wasn’t clear?”

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america x reader #steve rogers imagine #captain america imagine #buckygrantbarnes #buckygrantbarnes writing challenge

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headoverhiddles · 5 years

Text

I Spit On Your Garage - Tatum Riley (Scream) x Reader [Smut/Fluff]

Synopsis: You and your girlfriend do your best to survive the killings plaguing Woodsboro, while being the cutest couple around.

Notes: Here's your daily reminder that my little bi heart cries for Tatum always 🙃

You have the house to yourself this weekend, so naturally, you find your girlfriend to invite her over.

"Tate!" you shout across the school lawn. She comes running over to you in her black and white cropped jersey.

"Hey, babe. What's up?" She gives you a quick kiss and takes your arm, her usual cheerful self. You walk up to the doors with her, joining Sidney and saying hi to her.

"Parents are out of town," you tell her. She squeezes your arm excitedly, gasping.

"Say no more. I'm bringing ice cream, sparkling wine, and handcuffs."

You blush, and Sidney covers her ears.

"Catch you two later," she laughs, and dashes off before she has to hear any more about your sex life. That's when Stu makes his presence known from behind you two.

"You were saying?"

"Get outta here," Tatum beats her ex's shoulder with her bag.

"Oww! Just wanted to say, there's a party tomorrow night at Sid's."

"Oh. Does... Sidney know about this?" you ask him.

"Not yet. But her dad's out of town, so we'll drop the suggestion to her." He wiggles his eyebrows.

"Whatever," Tatum mutters, "We might make it. If we're not too busy with our tongues in strange places."

You cover your mouth, giggling, and Stu looks at you two in awe.

"Aw, man... why'd we never do that?"

"You never made me cum with your dick, why should it be any different with your tongue?"

You and Tatum slap each other a high five, then a low five, as Stu grumbles.

"See you two at the party tomorrow night."

You both mumble your agreement, distracted by one another. Tatum gives you a playful little lick on the cheek, and blows you a kiss as she runs off to her English class, blonde braids bobbing behind her.

"I love you! You're adorable!" you call after her.

"You're sexy! I love you too!" she calls back, running backward, and nearly trips over Freddy the janitor.

As you continue walking down the hall, books hugged close to your chest, your lovesick smile fades. It had been an unnerving week. Casey Becker and her boyfriend Steve had been murdered... like, gross-out murdered. They found her hanging from a tree by her intestines. That's some serious horror movie shit.

The thing is, they haven't caught the killer yet. He's still out there, somewhere in Woodsboro, waiting to strike again...

The voice of reason, aka your girlfriend, returns to your head, telling you there's no way it's not an isolated incident. But as you take your seat in Spanish, all you can think of is a white mask, mouth as long and dark as Casey Becker's casket.

Later that night, at your place, Tatum arrives faithfully with all the items she said she'd bring. She collapses onto your bed, getting into one of your T-shirts. You're in your bra and panties, the LA heat stifling tonight.

"Hey... pretty spooky about what happened to Casey and Steve, huh?" you say, drawing your curtains closed as the sun finally goes down on your remote property.

"Yeah. It's hitting Sid real hard, since it's the anniversary of... y'know."

"Right." You tie up your hair. "Silly, I know, but I've been looking over my shoulder, making sure my windows are locked and stuff."

"I don't know, man," she hums, "It creeps me out, but we're pretty set. We've got Randy, who knows exactly what to do and what not to do to survive a horror movie."

"True. Plus, your brother's a cop."

"Debatable."

"He's got influence in the local law enforcement," you correct, smiling and sauntering past her.

"Also debatable." She snorts. "The doofus wouldn't know the killer if he was stabbing him in the face."

"Don't joke about that," you mutter, tossing a strewn pair of panties at her, "I like Dewey."

"Yeah," your girlfriend inspects her nails, "I do too."

You peek up through the hole to make sure you turned the porch light out.

"Huh."

"What?" Tatum calls, blowing on her nails to cool.

"It's just weird... there must be something blocking the peephole. I tried to look out but it's all black."

Tatum is quiet for a second, and her silence makes you hesitate as well. "You don't think...?" you begin to mutter, and Tatum glances up.

"Don't worry, babe. It's probably some kids or something, stuck some gum over it. It was just Halloween, could've been a prank."

"Yeah," you agree, not believing a word of her theory. You walk back over, hold your breath, and take another look. A chill runs through you as you see that the peephole is now unblocked.

"Tatum--"

"Mmshhh," she mumbles, her arms sliding around your middle from behind. Her face presses into your back, and she starts kissing the back of your neck, "Let's not forget, we have the place to ourselves. We shouldn't worry about stupid perverts probably trying to watch."

You huff, making sure the door is locked. Then you turn around, to face your persistent girlfriend. Tatum gives that evil smirk, licking her bottom lip slowly as she begins to unbutton your blouse.

"You know," you smile, taking her hands and leading her back toward the bedroom, "Having sex is on Randy's no-no list of surviving a scary movie."

Tatum rolls her eyes. "Randy just can't get laid, and he wants everyone to suffer with him."

"Maybe he's got a point," you tease, moving the two of you to the bed so that Tatum is laying underneath you. Her blonde hair splays out around her head as she stares up at you, amused. "I mean... have you seen Friday the 13th? That whole franchise is about killing horny teenagers."

"Yeah well, we're immune. The rule doesn't apply to lesbian sex. Have you ever seen two girls in one of those movies bite it for having sex? Nope." She pops her 'p' with those perfect lips.

You burst into giggles, and she giggles with you, wrapping her arms around your neck. You concede, pressing your lips to hers, and her giggles turn to moans as you thread your fingers softly through her hair.

"You look like an angel, laying on a halo of hair," you mutter, and she raises an eyebrow.

"What the hell was that?"

"I heard it in a country song," you giggle, and her face blooms into a beautiful smile.

"It's sweet. You know, nobody's ever been this nice to me in a relationship, (y/n). It's nice to feel... appreciated."

"Ditto." You kiss her cheek, and her hands find your panties, fingers sliding in. She's giving that vixen look again that gets you weak. She tugs your panties down, and patters her fingers along your inner thighs, as if she doesn't know what to do with them.

"Mmm," you moan, and she grins, finally moving one finger to rub your clit. You shudder, and she tips your chin so that you look into her eyes. She then goes down, crawling down the bed like a panther until she gets between your legs. Her tongue darts out, and she teases around you for a moment, before going for your sweet spot. She moans.

"You taste so good."

"God," you breathe, fisting at the sheets, "Tate, Tate... baby, I don't deserve you."

"Yes you do. You really do," she replies, and goes back down on you, licking your clit and dipping every now and then a little lower to taste your wetness. After a few minutes of this, hearing her soft moans between your legs, seeing her head bob and move and feeling her tongue slide, you're going to climax.

"I'm-- I'm so close," you gasp, and she swirls her tongue around your bud as you ride your orgasm out.

"What a good little girl," she grins.

You reach down, pulling her up into another kiss as you roll her on top of you. She pulls her panties off, biting her pink lip, and as she continues rubbing you, you slip two fingers into her, curving them and letting her lower down.

"Ahhh, oh god, yeah," she groans. She's always the dramatically loud one in bed. It's a super good thing no one's home.

She starts to ride your fingers hard, and you reach up with your other hand to grab her breasts, taking turns massaging them. She does like it rough sometimes, and so do you, but tonight, she's more in control. She rides your fingers even harder, gasping out your name.

"(y/n)... (y/n), make me cum... am I doing good?"

"So good Tate, sweetheart. So good for me."

"I need to--"

"Fuck my fingers, my pretty little slut," you smile, and she tilts her head back, hitting her own orgasm. You take your fingers out, and lick them clean as Tatum crawls up beside you on the bed contentedly, sliding under your arm and smiling hazily.

You're about to go in for another kiss, when the phone on the wall downstairs rings. You groan, and Tatum grabs your bra strap.

"Don't leave me. I'm scared." When you turn back to look, you see she's trying not to laugh. You roll your eyes.

"God, it could be my parents!" She gives up, and follows you down the stairs in a bathrobe she found. Just as you're getting down to the kitchen, the ringing stops... you must have missed the call.

"They'll call back if it's important," Tatum shrugs, and motions for your hand. Then the phone rings again. You both turn to look at it.

"Hello?" you answer. As you're trying to focus on whoever is on the line, Tatum takes it upon herself to slowly give you a striptease with the fluffy pink robe, undoing the tie, sliding it down her shoulder to expose one of her breasts. "H-hello?" you repeat, eyes wide as you watch your girlfriend. She opens her mouth in an 'o', presenting her boob like a game show woman would present a prize.

You giggle, and a voice finally speaks over the line.

"What's so funny?"

Distracted, you turn away, still smiling. "Dude, who is this?"

"I asked you first."

"My girlfriend's making me laugh. Randy? Is that you?" Tatum starts to slip the robe all the way off. She kicks it away with her foot, and saunters toward you.

"Talk fast, cause I'm three seconds away from hanging up," you bite your lip, dying to touch Tatum again.

"You hang up on me you little bitch, I'll cut your fucking head off."

Your stomach drops, and Tatum immediately notices the alarm in your expression. She hangs over your shoulder, trying to hear.

"Who is it?" she whispers.

"Uh..." you breathe. "It's... I..."

"(y/n)?"

"I don't..."

Tatum takes the phone. "Who is this?!" she demands.

"Oh. Just somebody who wants to talk."

"Talk to someone else, we're busy."

"I want to talk to you."

"Well, I want a million bucks and you to hang up."

"You must be the funny girlfriend."

"Look. What did you say to my girlfriend, creep?! She looks like she saw a ghost!"

"She will. And so will you."

The line goes dead, and Tatum looks at the phone, frowning. You've never seen her so unsettled, but as usual, she tries to hide it under a breezy smile.

"Ah, don't worry about it. Prank call."

"Yeah," you bite your nail, and Tatum picks up the robe, taking your arm and leading you away. You get into bed upstairs, and before she joins you, she makes doubly sure the doors are locked.

---

You and Tatum arrive at Sidney's around 10, and end up sitting on the couch, making out for a bit. Tatum's a little bit tipsy by 10:30, and you had a few hits off a joint, so the two of you are having a good time. Sid's upstairs with Billy, "talking".

Stu, Randy, and a couple others are sitting on the couch opposite you two.

"Tate, would you get us some more beers?" Stu asks. She glares at him.

"What am I, the beer wench?"

"I'll come too," you grin, thinking of the privacy you two'd get in the garage. Then Randy turns Halloween on the TV, and you gasp. It's your favorite horror movie.

"You stay here and be my cute little nerd," she pats your head and kisses it, "I'll be right back."

"You shouldn't say that," Randy calls.

"Why not?" you ask him, grabbing some popcorn.

"Rule of thumb in a horror movie. If you say I'll be right back, you never come back."

"Hey, careful, Wes Craven," you scoff, "That's my girlfriend you're talking about." Randy puts his hands up. "Besides, why are you so convinced we're living in a horror movie?"

"The body count is rising, (y/n)."

He shuts up when Stu starts making 'woooo' ghost noises, but you start to worry. Randy's right. There was another murder today, and you had gotten that strange phone call last night...

In the garage, Tatum opens the mini fridge and picks out some beer bottles, filling her arms. She hums 'Sweet Dreams' to herself as she kicks the fridge door closed, and hears a rustling behind her.

"So, you gonna help me break all these over Stu's head when we get get back in there?" she asks. She nearly jumps when she turns and sees someone other than you standing by the door. "Oh, shit. Thought you were (y/n). Randy?" The costumed figure shakes his head. "Oh, okay. What movie is this from, I spit on your garage?"

She tries to move past him with a dismissive huff, but she looks down to see a knife in his hand. Her smile fades, and she backs up.

"I think I'm gonna go check on Tatum," you tell Randy.

"Oh, come on! This is the best part!"

"Randy, it's 12 minutes in, Michael hasn't even escaped the hospital yet."

You hop over the back of the couch, and make your way down to Sid's garage.

"Oh beer wench!" you call down the hall, "What're you doing in there, brewing it yourself?" You can't really hear her inevitable snarky reply over the beat of the music, so you keep walking.

Inside, Tatum backs away from the killer.

"You better stay far away from me, asshole," she warns, and when he takes a step, she throws a bottle at his balls. It shatters, and he doubles over, giving her a chance to run. The only way out is through the doggy door... she doesn't know if she can fit, but it's preferable to getting stabbed.

You hear a faint crash, and the sound of the garage door opening. You rush the rest of the way there.

"Tatum!" you scream, and push the door open. She's stuck in the doggy door, and it's going up. You scream again, and tackle the tall figure in the costume out of sheer protectiveness. You take a nearby crate, and break it over his head, making sure he's good and down before you get up.

"(y/n)!" Tatum calls weakly, eyes wide as she looks her death right in the face. You run over, grabbing her hands and helping pull her out of there before the door reaches the ceiling. She holds tight to you, and falls into your arms, crying into your chest.

"It's okay," you whisper, stroking her hair. She finally pulls away, wiping her trailing mascara.

"You literally saved my life."

"Um. Yeah?" you breathe. She surges forward with a deep kiss.

"I god damn love you, (y/n)."

You two leave out the garage door, unwilling to step over the unconscious killer, and from your portable phone, you dial Dewey's number. You have to hold the phone away from your ear as he shouts about Tatum. She snatches the phone, sniffling.

"I'm okay, doofus. Yes, of course, (y/n) was there. She's my hero. Or heroine." She bats her eyelashes at you, then her expression sours. "No, Dewey, I'm not on heroin! I almost died, asshole! No-- I don't know, I didn't stop to check who! See you soon. Don't tell mom."

You two sit, waiting for the cops and paramedics, hand in hand as people start to file out of the party, wondering what the hell happened.

"So... why'd you go out through the dog door?"

She laughs. "Do not start with me. I panicked, okay?"

"But the dog door? Really, Tate? With those boobs?"

"You know I have one brain cell, and it died when I saw the guy with the knife." You just hug her close to you.

At least she's still alive-- that's all that matters.

262 notes · View notes

hawksmagnolia · 4 years

Text

In times of sickness we all need a hero.

Darcy is sick so Clint, Nat and Sam send her a hero to save the day.

A/N: Based on the prompt: “What do you mean you’re sick? You’re my partner in crime!”

Warning: Fluff, bathtime snuggles, sweet Bucky

“What do you mean you’re sick?! You’re my partner in crime! Who else is going to encourage me to do dumb shit?”

Darcy sniffled through the phone. “Clint, you’re perfectly capable in doing dumb shit all on your own.”

Clint considered this. “Well, yeah. But it’s not as much fun without you. Plus who is going to warn me when Nat is coming? Wilson sucks at being the look out. He gets distracted.”

“Sam gets flirted with. You get distracted. You’re the walking, talking poster child for ADHD. You’re like one of those monkeys who ate all the cocaine at that drug lord’s house down in Miami. Although you’d probably be calmer on coke, pretty sure it’s just like super Adderall.”

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

She sniffed again. “I’m going back to laying on my couch in misery and watching Hallmark Christmas movies until I feel better. Stay out of Tony’s expensive espresso or you’ll die and we won’t know because you’ll be twitching for another 48 hours.”

“Spoilsport. Call me if you need anything.” Clint made kissy noises into the phone and hung up.

Clint looked over at Sam and Nat. Natasha looked bemused and Sam looked annoyed. Which was his normal state around Clint.

“I do NOT get distracted.” Sam grumbled.

“You do get flirted with a lot though.” Natasha pinched his cheek and he batted her hand away.

“What about me?!” Cried Clint and Natasha kissed him on his pouting lips. “I threaten to kill people who flirt with you.” Clint smiled fondly at her.

“Now what?” Sam eyed Clint suspiciously. “I know you’re up to something but since we have Nat here I feel much safer.”

Clint cut his eyes at Sam. “You feel safer with her? She’s an assassin!”

Nat thumped Clint on the back of the head. “So are you. Give me your phone. He won’t expect you to be capable of this kind of manipulation.”

Clint looked hurt and Nat kissed him again as she took the phone from his hands. “We all know the stupid is an act.” She held the phone to his face to unlock it and then began to type on the screen. Clint leaned over to watch her and a smile blossomed on the archer’s face.

“Oh Nat. When you’re good…you’re good.” He plucked the phone from her fingers and held the screen for Sam to read.

“Damn girl. You almost sound like Clint in that text. Except it has proper spelling and grammar.”

“Not many schools in the carnival life.” Clint shrugged. “Doesn’t affect my aim. Find bad guy, shoot bad guy. The end.”

“Will you two idiots shut up? I’m setting the trap, let’s see if he takes the bait.” She pressed ‘send’ on the text and then spun around in her chair to watch the monitor screen of the gym where their mark, also known as James Buchanan Barnes, was working out.

Clint pulled out a box of caramel popcorn and kicked his feet up onto the desk where Natasha immediately shoved them off.

“Really Barton? Popcorn?”

He held out the box to Sam. “Want some?”

“I’m not sure why I’m still surprised by anything you do.”

Natasha shushed them as she saw Bucky glance at his watch before re-stacking his weights and going to his bag to get his phone.

“Hook, line and sinker.” Natasha smiled smugly as they watched Bucky pack up his bag and jog out of the gym.

——————————

Darcy laid on her couch in a pile of blankets as she wallowed in self pity. She felt awful, with a congested head and fever. Everything ached. Downfall of living with so many super people? None of them got sick but somehow they managed to bring home many, many germs to those of the non-super people variety. She coughed and considered calling Clint back so she could whine and then guilt him into bringing her food. She had food here but it was not food she wanted.

She had just picked up her phone when there was a knock at her door. She looked back at it before pressing her phone screen to unlock the door.

When the door opened Darcy desperately wished she had died and this was now heaven. Because that was preferable to the reality of the super hot super soldier actually seeing her looking like a hot mess.

And, dear gods of thunder, he looked super hot. His hair was damp and loose around his face and he was dressed like he’d just left the gym. His tank top showed off every single defined muscle of his arms and was just clingy enough to give a hint of those abs while his shorts rode low on his hips. He was also looking at her oddly. Which is when she realized she was not only staring, but staring with her mouth wide open. She snapped her jaw shut and felt her face burn with something other than fever.

“Darcy? You okay?”

“Um. Yeah. Peachy.” She tried to flash a smile but ended up coughing again. She heard a thump on her table and then a broad, warm hand was rubbing her back.

“Jesus. You’re burning up.”

She waved a limp hand at him. “I’m not quite dead yet.”

“Clint said you were sick and asked me to check on you. So I brought that egg drop soup you like since you can’t get me sick.” He pointed to brown paper bag on her tiny kitchen table.

She peered up at him. “How do you know what soup I like?”

Bucky smiled at her. “You order it every single night we get Chinese.”

“Oh. Oh!” She yelped as Bucky reached over the back of the couch and scooped her into his arms. She hissed as his prosthetic pressed against her fevered skin.

“We gotta get you cooled down Doll.” He carried her with ease into her bathroom. She was suddenly very, very grateful that she’d actually put her laundry down the chute earlier instead of leaving it in a pile on the floor. Keeping her cradled in his arms, he sat on the edge of the oversized tub and turned the tap on.

“What are you doing?” Darcy’s voice was a little muffled from being buried into his chest. She peeked up at his face.

“Told you. Getting you cooled down.” He kicked off his sneakers and reached down to peel off his socks.

“But why are you getting…less clothing-ish?”

Bucky laughed as he checked the water. “I’m getting in with you. I can watch your temperature with my arm easier than any other way.”

Darcy squeaked. “In with me?!”

He laughed again and kissed the top of her head which sent little tingles all the way to her toes. “I promise your dignity is safe with me. I’ll keep my shorts on.”

“What if I don’t want my dignity to be safe?” Darcy mumbled and Bucky chuckled.

Bucky turned the water off and shifted her again as he yanked his tank top over his head. Darcy tried very hard not to stare but she was 1000% sure she failed.

He stood, her still cradled in his arms and against that gloriously naked chest, and stepped into the tub. He sat, putting her between his legs with her back against his chest. She shivered a bit and he wrapped his arms around her.

“Sorry doll. But this-“ He plucked at her tank top. “has got to go.”

Darcy felt herself blush, she wore nothing under it, but Bucky leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “You have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re gorgeous and should know that.” His lips grazed her ear as he slid his prosthetic hand over her stomach and lifted her shirt with his other. Once the soaked fabric was tossed aside he settled her back against him. His thumb slowly traced a circle on her abdomen while he used the other to run through her hair. Darcy practically purred as his fingers slid across her scalp.

“How long have you been like this?” His voice rumbled against her back.

“Mmm…I don’t know. A couple days? What day is it?”

“Have you been miserable the whole time? Why didn’t you call someone?”

“Clint and Nat have been checking on me. Steve came by too and dropped off some Gatorade and cold medicine. Sometimes you super people forget that not all of us have magic immune systems. Normally I’d have Thor bring me Asgardian medicine but he’s off in space doing space things.”

He pulled her a little closer and she snuggled into him. The water felt amazing on her skin and Bucky was warm enough to ward off the chill of the water and her fever finally breaking.

“Next time call me. I’ll come stay with you.”

Darcy craned her neck to look up at him. “Don’t you have world saving to do though? I’m pretty sure that’s way more important than babysitting me.”

Bucky pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll decide what’s important.”

“Does this mean I’m important?”

“I don’t go climbing in bathtubs with just anyone.”

She sighed dramatically. “Of course you pick now to do it.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her. “You sayin’ you want to do it again?” His Brooklyn drawl crept into his voice.

“Only if you want to. But, I’d be either dead or a complete idiot to say no. Please know if I am asked about this later I will blame fever.”

“Then we will make a habit of this…especially when you’re better.” He flashed a wicked grin at her that made the heat she felt throughout her body have nothing to do with her illness. “But until then, out we go. I don’t want you gettin’ too cold.” He slipped from behind her and out of the tub, reaching to grab a towel. Darcy swallowed hard at the sight of his ass in water soaked clingy shorts. She crossed her arms over her chest self consciously.

“You done lookin’?”

“Um…no? I mean, I can lie and say yes but no. I’m not.”

Bucky smiled and held out his hand and Darcy slowly stood on unsteady legs as she attempted to keep her chest covered. Gently he wrapped her in a towel and sat her on the side of the tub before wrapping one around his waist. Grabbing the wet fabric of his shorts, he pulled them down his legs and tossed them aside.

Darcy gaped at him. Her brain shorted out and the only noise to escape her mouth was a wheezy gasp.

Bucky pretended not to notice as he grabbed another towel and tenderly began to dry the ends of her hair that had fallen into the water. She closed her eyes as he ran his fingers through her tangled curls until was able to braid it out of her face.

“Where did you learn to braid?”

Bucky was pulling a hair tie from around his wrist and he paused. “My sister. She was constantly running around with wild hair but she’d let me brush and braid it at night after her bath.” He secured her braid and stood. “Out of your wet stuff. I’ll be back in a minute, going to try and find you dry clothes.” He disappeared into her bedroom.

She heard him moving around in her bedroom. The idea of James Buchanan Barnes going into her underwear drawer was enough to make her yelp. He stuck his head back into the bathroom.

“You okay?”

“I..I can find dry clothes.”

He searched her face for a moment and then slowly nodded. “I’ll clean up in here.”

Darcy wobbled her way into her bedroom and stopped in surprise. Her bed had been carefully spread up with the quit and sheets pulled back so she could climb in. A bottle of Gatorade sat on her bedside- it wasn’t her normal flavor so she wondered if it was from him. She pulled on another tank top (this one with a built in bra) and dry boy shorts, kicking her wet ones aside. She was sitting on the edge of her bed attempting to get a pair of shorts up her legs when he came in still just wearing a towel around his waist. Without being asked, he knelt at her feet and slid them up for her. His fingers grazed over her bare flesh and it broke out into chill bumps.

“Into bed with you.” He gestured and she crawled up towards her pillows. He sat on the edge and pulled the blankets up.

“Are you leaving?” She whispered.

“Do you want me to?”

She shook her head.

“I’m going to put your soup up and grab dry stuff for me. I’ll be right back.” He kissed her forehead again and padded barefoot out of her room.

Darcy closed her eyes for just a second, she wasn’t asleep, just resting her eyes. She opened them again when her bed shifted. Bucky sat there in another tank top and shorts. His hair was scraped back from his face and the light from the bathroom cast shadows across his face.

“Hey. You good?”

Darcy nodded sleepily and he went to stand up but she grabbed his hand. “Stay.”

“I ain’t leavin’ doll. Just going to lay on the couch.”

She shook her head. “No. Stay here.”

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly. “In bed? With you?”

She nodded.

“You sure?”

She nodded again. He carefully went to the other side and slid under the covers behind her. Darcy sighed when she felt his body pressed against hers, her legs tangling with his. He tucked her head under his chin and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Not exactly how I expected our first time in bed to go.”

“What?!”

Bucky laughed. “Sweetheart, I’ve wanted to do this for months.”

“I’m sorry. I must be delirious. I could have sworn you said you’ve been wanting to get into my bed for months.”

“Well, me into yours or you into mine. I ain’t picky.”

Darcy shifted and then rolled to face him. Her eyes roved over his face and she traced the angle of his jaw with her fingertips. “So, why the hell haven’t you done something before now?”

Bucky shrugged a little. “Figured you weren’t interested.”

“Are you high? How would I not be interested in you? Have you seen yourself?”

“I’ve got…baggage.”

“So does everyone. But you also have lots of muscles, pretty eyes and a great smile. And you’re a good person. You’re here, in my bed, making sure I don’t die.”

“You’re not going to die from a cold.”

“I might. This is why you have to stay. To protect my life. It’s very important to my health that you stay.”

“Well, if it’s that important then I’ll stay.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and left them there. His warm breath slid over her skin and she pressed a little closer. “You keep that up and I’m makin’ no promises about your dignity being safe with me.”

Darcy picked up his arm and draped it over her side where he curled his fingers against her skin.

“What if I say I’m feeling much better? Like I’m almost cured?”

“I’ll still be here when you’re actually well.”

“But..!”

Bucky cut her off by pressing his lips to hers and when she gasped and opened her mouth, his tongue slid over her lips deepening the kiss.

When he broke off from her, she looked a little dazed. “You’re really good at that.”

He gently kissed her again. “I’m really good at a lot of things. But for now, you need to rest.”

“Promise you’ll show me?”

“Hell yes.”

——————

“Told you it would work.” Clint tiled the box of popcorn to dump the crumbs into his mouth. “Wasn’t expecting him to go wandering the halls in a towel though.”

Sam nodded slowly. “I have to admit Barton, I’m actually kind of impressed.”

Natasha tapped her fingernail against her lips. “I think this is exactly the push they needed. Bravo Clint.”

Clint shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m a genius sometimes. Can we go eat now? I’m starving.”

“You just killed an entire box of Cracker Jacks. How the hell are you still hungry?”

“It takes a lot of food to power my big brain.”

“Come on Sam, let’s go feed him before he starts drinking coffee again on top of pre sugar. I don’t want to have to get him out of a tree again.”

“That was ONE TIME. And I could have gotten out. Eventually. I was almost out of my belt when Wanda got to me.”

“You were almost out of your pants and you damn near scandalized the poor girl.”

“Shut up Wilson. Food time. FEED ME SEYMOUR.”

Natasha, who had stood up, leaned over and kissed Clint. “If you shut up, I’ll buy a pizza just for you.”

“Deal.”

@the-ss-horniest-book-club @eurynome827 @cchellacat @daughterofsteven @sevans-is-my-weakness @sallycanwait68 @nano--raptor @buckys-broody-muffin @godofplumsandthunder @book-dragon-13 @fuckyeahdarcylewis @fuckyeahwintershock

#HBC #Wintershock #Bucky Barnes #Darcy Lewis

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darkwritingsnshit · 5 years

Text

Make me

Warnings: This is a dark fic, please don’t read if you’re under 18 or uncomfortable with noncon or dark characters.

His fist hit the wall behind you and the paint cracked.

“Why do you insist on testing me?” Steve had steely eyes, anger set in every line on his face.

“What the fuck are you talking about? I got here twenty minutes ago and you’re already on my case, what exactly did I do wrong this time Steve?” You were sick his attitude lately.

Steve had watched you for a few months before asking you out for the first time, had everything planned out, down to the pen you had dropped for him to return to you. It had gone well at first, he was so fucking sweet, always came with flowers, opened car doors and gave you his jacket. Not to mention those blue eyes had rendered you speechless and caused you to fumble your words the first time the two of you had spoken. Things were wonderful, but as time wore on, little things Steve did made you roll your eyes or think him overbearing.

It had started when you weren’t home exactly at seven, he was calling you up at 7:01, asking why you were late and who you were with, though you had already told him you and your friend were catching up at her apartment. He always wanted to know who you were with, when you would be back, didn’t like you leaving him or the house for longer than an hour or so. Steve insisted on knowing the passcode to your phone, you had walked in on him going through your texts and even work emails and nearly lost it then and there. He always told you it was your safety he worried about, there were a lot of crazy people wandering around NYC.

When Steve had introduced you to his coworkers, he had been difficult to be around for days. He insisted that you were flirting with Sam and Bucky, though you had only shaken their hands and made polite small talk. Nothing you did could convince him that you weren’t flirting with other men, even your gay coworker that came over for face masks and pedicures was not immune to Steve’s evil eye.

Twenty minutes ago you had walked through the door from work, you hadn’t the time to change clothes or relax on the couch before Steve had picked a fight about god knows what this time.

“Don’t play dumb, sweetheart, if I wanted a girlfriend who fucked other guys, I’d go rent a whore.”

“Who am I fucking, Steve? Please tell me because I have no idea.” You were tired of his accusations, they didn’t even make any sense. His possession and control issues had absolutely spiraled, making it hard for you to interact with any other person for fear that Steve would be angry.

“I see how you look at your boss, how close the two of you get, how desperate you are for his approval. You think I’m stupid enough to believe that you don’t fuck him in the supply closet on your breaks? I know all about his late night texts and emails, you’re not fooling me.” Steve had you pressed against the paint he had cracked with his fist, and you were scared. He hadn’t ever hurt you, but the way he loomed over you, with three times the body weight and muscle as you, it was menacing to say the least.

“Steve, he’s my boss. He texted me last night and said, “the morning meeting was pushed to 10”. The only approval I want from him is professional, forgive me for wanting a raise sometime in the next six months. What is your problem?” You were scared but held your ground. You hadn’t done a damn thing wrong, hadn’t flirted or slept with anyone but Steve since the two of you got together.

“Stop lying to me and shut your fucking mouth.” He was growling through his teeth by now.

“Make me,” was all it took for him to wrap a hand around your neck and kiss you rough; there was no love behind his lips, there was anger and aggression. You wanted to push Steve away, you were angry, hurt, tired of his bullshit, but he was stronger than you by far. You hit at his shoulders and he let you, when you tried to bring your knee up and hit him between the legs, he grabbed your thigh and wrapped it around his waist instead. Shifting his weight and hauling you up over his shoulder, he walked to the bedroom, threw you across the bed, ignoring your kicking legs and hits across his back.

When Steve attached himself to your neck and tugged at your shirt, your fight was leaving you. By the time he ripped off your pants and shirt, he had you squirming on the bed, but no longer trying to get away. He wrapped your arms around his neck as he kissed you, you pulled him deeper, answering his lips with teeth and tongue. You shivered as he yanked your underwear down, tearing them in the process, his hand replacing the silk fabric.

“You’re a wet little bitch, you’re a fucking slut, aren’t you?” Steve was hissing in your ear, his question brought the anger back to the surface and you bit down on his shoulder as an answer. “I bet you wish I was your boss, I bet you wish I was someone else, don’t you?” He was egging you on, taunting you as his fingers made you even wetter, made you moan into his words instead of screaming at him.

“Fuck you,” turned into a moan as he sank into you, his pelvis meeting yours, making you gasp and whine. Steve always hurt, but it always felt so fucking good. He was rocking into you, making you feel good before pulling out and thrusting inside of you, hard. Steve wouldn’t stop, feet on the floor, your legs around his waist, he fucked you so hard you were sure you’d have bruises inside and out when he was finished with you.

“Little, fucking, slut,” he punctuated his words with hard thrusts, making you scream as Steve filled you completely. You didn’t even care what he was saying, you just wanted him to keep going. Before you could cum, he pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach, you were whining until he slammed back inside of you, yanking your hips tight against him. His hand went to your hair, making a fist and pulling your head close to his.

“You’re going to cum all over my cock, aren’t you, whore?” You could feel his anger as he fucked you, you tried to shake your head but he was holding your hair too tight.

“I’m not, a whore,” your voice was breathy, hardly audible over the skin on skin and wet noises Steve and you were making.

“Maybe not,” Steve released your hair, “but you’re still gonna cum all over me, aren’t you princess?” You really didn’t even want to at this point, but the way Steve was fucking you, the angles he was hitting and the way he gripped your hips had you crying out and gushing around him before you realized it.

“Fuck you,” you somehow managed, unable to life your head or move at all, fingers tingling from your orgasm, Steve was pushing you into another one and he knew it. You came again as he did, you could feel him cum deep inside of you and stay there, slapping your ass before he pulled out and stepped back.

You couldn’t move, just laid on the mattress with your eyes closed. You could hear Steve in the drawers behind you, heard him walk into the bathroom and crank the shower.

“The reservations are for seven, so you better get cleaned up fast.” He shouted. Dragging yourself up the bedspread, reality hit you in the face, as you realized Steve was right. It wouldn’t look very good if Steve showed up to Tony’s dinner without his beautiful girlfriend, would it?

#dark writings #dark fics #my writing #my works #dark!steve rogers #dark!captain america #steve rodgers x reader #captain america x reader

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what-the--curtains · 4 years

Text

Braving the Elements

Chapter 11 - I Can Fix That

Tw: blood, mild violence , alcohol

You stumble along the cobbled street clinging to Bucky for dear life. You were both pretty drunk but the serum that was coursing through his veins made him slightly more immune to the alcohol's effects. You're just leaving the club when you pass by two guys and one of them cat calls you.

“Oh, get fucked.” You slur, turning around to give them the finger much to Bucky’s dismay. Evidently offended that there so called charms hadn’t worked on you they yell back “Whatever you stupid fucking mutation, you should be thankful for the attention you freak of nature.”

Bucky feels you tense up and freeze in the street and before he can pull you away from the situation, you’ve turned on your heel and started towards the two drunk assholes.

“Hey!” you shout after them, but they don’t turn around “Hey assholes! Why don’t you say that to my face.”

Finally, one turns around “I’d much rather be saying it to your ass!” He shouts, smiling and high-fiving his dirtbag friend.

“Now that doesn’t even make any sense!” you say, slightly disappointed it was the best they could come up with.

One of them grabs onto your arm trying to pull you towards them. Bucky’s about to step in, when you swing your leg up into the guy's groin causing him to let go of your arm. You bring your elbow down on the nape of his neck and he face-plants onto the ground.

“You wanna be next?” you ask the other guy

He shakes his head no and turns to help his friend up.

“Good choice.” you say. Turning back to Bucky you “accidentally” fall into him. He catches you in his arms and smiles down at you with a cheeky grin and those storm cloud eyes. You pull on the collar of his shirt in an attempt to get his face closer to yours. Then, all of a sudden, you hear a shatter and you see small splatters of blood on your hand. Looking over Bucky's shoulder you see the two boys running off.

“Did they seriously just throw a glass bottle at me?” he asks obviously annoyed. He touches his hand to his shoulder, revealing where the blood was coming from.

“Jesus, Buck I am so sorry.” you say, for what must have been the fiftieth time, as you exit the elevator into the loft.

“Don’t worry about it doll, I’ll be right as rain in a few hours”. he says referring to the healing properties of the serum.

“Nope, this was my fault, so I gotta fix it” you say sitting him down

“Take your shirt off.” you order.

“Couldn’t wait to get me shirtless again hey doll?” he said smirking. You roll your eyes and remove your heels before grabbing a cup of water, a cloth and a bowl from the kitchen, placing them down on the coffee table.

“What are you planning on doing here?” he asks suspiciously

“Still don’t trust me do you?” you say, he tries to turn to face you, but you force him to stay put.

“Well I can control earth and guess what glass is made of?” you say, somewhat patronizingly. Bucky shrugs.

“Wow they really didn’t teach you anything in the 40s, did they?”

He peels off his shirt which had soaked through in the shoulder with blood. You use a cloth to wipe off some of the blood that had begun to dry. It looked bad but Bucky didn’t seem to be in too much pain. Likely because he’s a super soldier, but also probably because he was drunk. You continue to wipe his shoulder down allowing your hands to linger on a few healed scars from a past you didn’t know about, but wanted to.

“Well, glass is made out of sand and sand is a part of the earth so…” you stop and begin to pull the glass sherds out of the wound. Dropping the glass into the bowl on the table, you use the water to heal his skin back up. Pleased with your work, you stand up and go to put the glass in the garbage when you feel Bucky’s hands grab your waist pulling you down onto his lap. You fall kind of harshly and he winces slightly “Fuck, sorry” you laugh brushing your hair out of your face and behind your ears.

“You gotta stop apologizing all the time doll.” he says, staring into your eyes as he tightens his grip on your waist encouraging you to move closer to him.

You guys are then interrupted for the third time that night, by a loud crash that came from the kitchen. You turn your head to see Steve’s bare ass and Natasha’s legs wrapped around it.

“ARE YOU FUCKING IN THE KITCHEN?” you yell pushing yourself off Bucky’s lap much to his protest.

“I don’t know are you fucking in the living room?” Nat yells back

“NO!” both you and Bucky shout too quickly for it to be convincing.

Steve places Nat down for a moment, pulls up his pants and throws her over his shoulder, making her to giggle as the two of them leave the kitchen.

“Now that is Americans ass.” you say, impressed.

“And America’s penis” Bucky chimes in causing you to snort. You can hear Peter throwing up in the other room.

“I should really go check on him.” you say, despite wanting nothing more than to wrap yourself back around Bucky and see where the night takes you.

“Well it is kinda your fault” he says with a laugh. You nod and go to check on Peter. Throwing his head back he exhales. God why did he say that? He should have said “No, he's young he’ll bounce back” and carried you back to his room so he could rip your clothes off

#bucky x reader #bucky x oc #bucky x you #avengers fanfiction #braving the elements #bucky barnes #Spotify

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nightsinneverland · 4 years

Text

Aura, the Shield, and the Sword

Although Aura Storms hasn’t been around that long, she was given certain skills, gifts and wisdom that could fit into several centuries of living. Along with a sword engraved with Nordic and African runes and a dog that holds more to the visible eye, can Aura take any more challenges? Maybe say a soulmate who she thought was dead? Or maybe an entourage of heroes that are constantly in her way?

Chapter Four.

3:45 am. Red letters glare at Steve Rogers from his digital clock settled uniformly on his nightstand. A glass of water and his notebook keeping it company.

Rolling onto his back, grimacing at the cold feel of his sweat-soaked nightshirt , he replays his dream in his head trying to decipher its meaning.

A heavy storm paired with lightning and thunder strikes the top of a mountain. Or so he thought. Stumbling closer on the loose rocks, Steve squints to focus on the top of the mountain. His eyes widen at the sight of lightning shooting into a sword instead of the mountain. His eyes strain even more when he takes in a figure holding the long piece of metal.

There's a woman! His first thought is Peggy, but as the soldier gets closer to the woman, he realizes how wrong he is.

A sharp tingle goes down the back of his neck all the way down to his toes and travels through his body until it finally settles on his left wrist. The wrist that holds the name of his soul mate. He knows her name by heart and memory. She's the girl he’s thought about ever since he could read her name on his body. His girl. His soul mate.

A mass of desperation comes over Steve as he attempts to get closer to take in any detail that this dream would gift him with. He gets close enough to take note of a head of long curly hair, wet from the storm and a slim athletic figure before a flash of lighting temporarily blinds him and immense pain causes his body to twitch.

He looks down for the source of pain to find the lightning enhanced sword buried in his abdomen. Slowly following the sword from his impalement to the hilt, he notices a slim hand covered in engraved symbols. His left wrist starts to burn.

With another flash of lighting, he looks up into the face of his attacker and is pulled into a sea of pale green.

Shaking his head to escape the grasp of his most recent dream, Steve rolls over to grab his notebook to write down every detail so he won’t forget. He wonders when he’s allowed to be out in the public eye again if he’ll ever find her.

Jotting down the last few notes of his mystery girl, Steve rolls back onto his side to try to chase a peaceful sleep and wondering how his Aura is faring.

4:30am. Brooklyn lets me know because for once, as there is no watch adorning my wrist. It got thrown off an hour ago about a quarter into my continued “tasting” of Stark’s expensive booze. He has good taste. I'll give him that!

An hour ago, I was rudely interrupted from my sleep with a deep burning from that damned soul mate marking. I’ve tried everything to make it stop. Spells, more runes, even antibiotic cream that may or may not have been expired. In the midst of me attempting a temper tantrum and throwing the stupid tube of not-working cream across the room into the trash, the fancy bottle of whiskey caught my eye.

Normal people drink to take the pain away of their mundane lives, so maybe it’ll take away this stupid burning on my wrist?

That question led me to now, drunk off my ass trying to get Brooklyn to dance with me.

“Come on Brook! Shake a leg!” I laugh, scratching behind his ear to get him to comply with me. Dark amused eyes stare back at me and a small wag of his tail lets me know he’s close to cracking.

I step back, giving him some room, still rocking side to side clumsily,waving my arms in the air like a maniac, “Shift! I need a dance partner,” I poke his wet nose and a long, black tongue rolls out. I got my answer.

I give Brooklyn another few inches of room so he can shift and so my drunk ass can enjoy the show. Short white curly fur slowly starts to shed onto my hardwood floors revealing an opaque black mass of swirly auras, his tail appears to shorten until there is nothing left, nails elongate into sharp black talons that would never hurt me and floppy ears that grow into thick red horns. Brooklyn slowly stands to his 8 foot height on two legs, barely brushing my high ceilings. He extends his arms out to me as an invitation.

“Now that's what I’m talking about”, I say, shimming into his arms and beginning a clumsy waltz around my spacious living room. The burning in my wrist is long forgotten.

7:30am. Natasha stares at the analog clock across her bedroom. The little hand becomes blurry as another cold shiver runs through her body. She’s weak. Extremely weak. And she hates it.

It’s been a week and a half since she snuck into the witch’s home and got a chunk bitten off by her huge mutt. Her wound is rapidly getting bigger and nastier and according to F.R.I.D.A.Y’S analysis it is assumed that the venom that is compromising her immune system came from the dog’s teeth.

Natasha grits her teeth as she slowly lifts up her loose t-shirt, revealing a pus and blood infected gash on her waist. She looks to the ceiling to conceal her tears at the realization that it’s gotten bigger, almost reaching her hip.

A quick knock on her door kicks her into gear, shoving her t-shirt down and erasing the early presence of her crying, concealing the emotions on her face.

A head of spiky brown hair and eyes that scream “no sleep!” catch her attention. When they realize that she’s awake, a smile stretches across their face and they move into her room.

“Hey you! Glad you're up. We got some updates.” Clint tells Natasha, putting down a cup of tea on her nightstand and settling down on her bed.

He reaches over again to her nightstand and grabs a washcloth sitting in cold water and leans over his friend and teammate, “Her name is Aura Storms,” he says softly, gently patting away the sweat that’s formed on Natasha’s forehead, bringing the cloth down onto her cheeks to help cool her down.

“And her dog isn’t just a dog. We don’t know what it is but F.R.I.D.A.Y ran a scan on that thing when they were in the common room and it doesn’t have any organs or bones or anything of the sort. It just came up as a black mass.” Clint finished, bringing the cloth down to her neck and decollete, internally worrying about the lack of response from her.

Natasha’s hand slowly rose and settled over Clint’s wrist that was holding the cloth. “Do we know how to find her?”, the hope in her voice broke his heart. He reached his other hand to cover hers, gently patting and rubbing over the thin skin, knowing that she wasn’t going to like his answer.

“Not yet. But we will. I promise.” His eyes betraying him and watering at the dead look in Natasha’s eyes. He fights to maintain eye contact as the woman on the bed closes her eyes and turns her head away.

“I should've known better than to ask. She’s not someone you find. She finds you.” Natasha uttered, as she slowly took her hand away from Clint’s wrist and continued to turn onto her side facing away from the man silently crying.

Clint took her hint at telling him to leave. He leaned over to kiss the back of her head, put the cloth back into the bowl on her nightstand and left to find Tony and Bruce hoping for something new so he could lift Natasha's spirit and will to live.

#aura the shield and the sword #steve rogers x reader #sam wilson x reader #tony stark x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #mcu #avengers #marvel #bucky barnes x reader

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lurafita · 5 years

Text

Peter/Avengers, dub/con, captivity, Part three

TAGGING PEOPLE DIDN’T WORK! I don’t know why, but everytime I tried tagging someone, tumblr suddenly redirected me to their blog, instead of just writing down the name. I’m so sorry, I don’t know what the issue is. I have got in contact with support and am awaiting their answer, but until then, I hope you were still able to find this part! Again, so sorry!

Read Part 1: here

Read Part 2: here

People, heed the tags for upcoming parts in this story.

kidnapping, dub/con, captivity, chains, bondage, obsessive Avengers, Peter/Everyone, darkly soft Avengers (in the sense that they hold Peter captive, but only want to love and protect him), non-powered Peter, dark-ish Avengers, 18+ Peter, Clint is not married and has no kids, Tony is not in a relationship with Pepper.

(I feel like a cheat for tagging these things, even though I still haven’t gotten to the juicy bits in this fic...)

Part 3

Peter had long since retired, when the others gathered in the common floors living room, to further discuss the bomb the younger man had dropped on them mere hours ago.

Clint was waving his phone around wildly. “Australia is the most poisonous continent in the world! There are frogs that can kill you! Frogs!”

Bruce was frowning deeply. “The climate is drastically different there. Neither his body, nor his immune system will easily adapt. Petey could develop numerous illnesses because of that.”

Sam was likewise shaking his head. “Pumpkin doesn't have the physicality for weeks long hiking in the jungle. He may be good at parkour, but that is still miles away from the terrain that will await him in the underbrush.”

Steve made a sound like a wounded animal. “Don't remind me of that particular hobby of his, please. I still have nightmares from that video he showed us.”

Tony threw back his scotch. “Six months. Possibly longer. Sweetheart shouldn't be away from us for such a long time. Shouldn't be away at all.”

Bucky was pacing, the Winter Soldier clawing at his very being. “There isn't enough Intel. We don't know the people that would be part of his group. Don't know the terrain. Can't predict the conditions. Can't entrust Doll to strangers. Not safe.”

Natasha was stoically silent, though her face was stormy.

Thor looked contemplative. “...Then maybe we shouldn't let him go.”

The others stilled, all looking at the Asgardian.

“Hate to break it to you, L'Oreal, but I already tried bribing the University's board, in order to make them reject Stoddard's little excursion. No dice. Figures Peter would attend the one university in this stupid city that holds academic achievements in a higher regard than funding.”

A snort of pure disgust left the billionaires mouth, as he stood up to refill his glass.

But Thor shook his head. “I'm not saying to not let other people embark on this quest. I'm saying not to let Peter go.”

Steve wrung his hands. “We can't exactly keep him from going...”

Thor raised a challenging eyebrow. “Why not? He is a lovely creature, but he is not blessed with strength and battle prowess like the rest of us are. I imagine it would be quite easy to keep him here.”

The others looked around them uncomfortably.

“It's not that we wouldn't be capable of keeping him here, Thor, so much as that we... shouldn't...do something like this.” Sam awkwardly rubbed his neck.

“... Why shouldn't we?” But this time the question didn't come from Thor, but from Bucky.

Nervously wiping his hands over his thighs, Bruce tried to give reason to his words, while the Hulk was roaring in agreement with the Winter Soldier.

“It's... We can't... Peter isn't a child. Or a pet. … We have no right to just... keep him.”

Natasha spoke for the first time, her voice even.

“Don't we? Haven't we taken him in? Haven't we taken care of him for the last year? Aren't we the ones most responsible for his safety and well being? You just counted off all the dangers awaiting Lastashka if he joins this excursion. It's not safe. And he is ours to protect.”

Tony slowly set down his glass, eyes going back and forth during his inner debate.

“It's not like we would be doing something bad... He needs us. He can barely remember to feed himself.”

Clint gave him a sardonic look for that.

“Yeah, I'm not gonna comment on how very hypocritical that is coming from you. But you are right. Last week he almost fainted, because he wanted to finish his thesis, and didn't sleep for two days straight.”

Tony's head shot up at this.

“What? Why didn't I know about this? Friday? I thought I told you to keep an eye on my Sweetheart's sleeping schedule.”

“Peter asked me not to inform you of this, when I attempted to get him to sleep. He said it wouldn’t be a regular occurrence, and that after he finished with his work, he wouldn't have to neglect his rest so severely again. Since you yourself have abstained from sleep on far more occasions, I promised Peter discretion on the matter.”

Dammit!

Clint simply pointed to him.

“See? Hypocrite. But this just helps to prove the fact that Pete isn't very good at taking care of himself. And we can't leave him to a bunch of nerdy strangers. Nat is right. He is ours to protect.”

Bucky nodded along with this reasoning, as Sam pursed his lips.

“It's not like there is any guarantee that this plant this professor is looking for will really cure the disease, right? It's not worth it for Pumpkin to risk his health, possibly even his life, on a fools errand.”

Bruce couldn't ignore the words of his friends,and the desires of himself and the Hulk, any longer.

“I have been on such fruitless excursions during my time in university. I remember the hopeful anticipation in the beginning. And the crushing devastation when we came back empty handed. I would like to spare Petey such an experience.”

Steve held up his hands.

“Whoa, whoa, guys. You aren't seriously considering,- what? Kidnapping Peter? Keeping him locked up here with us?”

Bucky spoke before anyone else could.

“He would be safe here. We can protect him. Care for him. Love him.”

Natasha nodded.

“We won't hurt him. He won't understand or like it, at first. But he will come around.”

Tony carefully chimed in.

“It will take some time. Patience. Affection. But... since everyone will be thinking he is gonna be in the depths of the Australian underbrush for at least half a year...”

Clint was already a step ahead.

“The Tower is listed as Peter's official address, and Tony and Bruce as the overseers of his internship. It wouldn't be suspicious if one of them called the university the day of the groups departure, to report that Peter can't make it due to sudden injury or illness.”

Sam hopped right on.

“They will want to catch a very early flight, won't they? It's a bit of a trip to another continent. We could throw a little 'Good-bye' party for Pete. Invite his friends and aunt. Tell everyone one of us would drive him to the airport the next morning...”

A thoughtful crease appeared between Bruce's eyebrows.

“The professors usually tell the students and volunteers in their group to leave things like their cellphones at home. There is rarely opportunity to charge the battery, and if you are deep in the jungle, there is no reception anyway. So no one would be expecting to hear from him before the excursion team gets back. By that time,... surely Petey won't want to leave us again.”

Steve took a step forward.

“Okay, stop. Do you realize what you are talking about? We can't do this.”

“Don't you love him?” Thor's usually booming voice was quite, almost a whisper.

Steve nodded. “Of course I do. But-”

“Don't you wish to protect him? To know that he is safe?” Sam added.

“I do. But that doesn't mean-”

“Haven't things been so much better since he came to live with us? We have all been more careful during missions, taking less risks, causing less damage, because we know Peter is here, waiting for us to come back.” Clint threw in.

“I-”

“Peter was underweight when he started living here, you know? He got some acid on his shirt, and had to change out of it. I could count his ribs back then. His clothes don't look like they are his two heads taller brother’s hand-me-downs any longer, because we have made sure that he eats regularly. Do you think anyone else will do that for him in Australia?” Bruce asked.

“They.. no, they probably wouldn't..”

“You have been drawing more, since Peter found some of your older sketches. It has helped you relax. Been a way for you to deal with the things we have been through. I know half of your sketchbook is full of drawings of him. Do you really think you can go back to before? Capture other motifs on paper? Be without your muse for six whole months, and possibly longer?” Bucky implored.

“I didn't think of that.... I... I couldn't...”

“When I was a child, I have never been allowed to want something. We were weapons, there was no room for wishes. I have gotten to experience friendship and trust since then, and maybe it is selfish to ask for more. But I want more, Steve. I want Peter. I want him to be here with us, not somewhere in some jungle that might take him from us. My trainers kept me from wanting then, will this world's ideal of morality still keep me from wanting now?” She looked at him with eyes fuller of emotion than they had ever been.

“Natasha, I... no, of course you are allowed to want-”

“I don't care if I'm being selfish. We are heroes, Steve. Earth's mightiest defenders, isn't that what they call us? We go out there and fight everyone's enemies. People are safe because of us. But I will tell you right now, the only reason I have been able to sleep through a whole night recently, is Peter. I have seen so much shit in my life, Steve. Before the Avengers were ever formed, and then even more after we got this little superhero boy-band together. I used to tinker in my lab for days on end, because I knew that at one point my body would shut down on its own, and I would get the sleep I needed, with only the minimum of all the delightful nightmares my ptsd ridden brain could come up with. But ever since Peter has been here, it's better. I go to bed thinking about the way his eyes light up, whenever I show him a new upgrade for a current project, instead of the wide open eyes of the dead child we were too late to safe. I'm able to sleep dreaming about the noises he would make, if I bit the nape of his neck just so, instead of recalling flying a nuke through a portal and falling to what was supposed to be my death. Don't try to tell me you haven't had similar experiences with him. Don't try to lie about this. We deserve to be selfish with the person we love.”

“I, I know, Tony. I'm not saying that I don't understand...” The protest was feeble, weak. Steve was already more than halfway convinced.

“In Asgard, Peter would be called a 'Melmir'. A gift. Something to be kept to ourselves and safe at all cost.” Thor had stood, stepping closer to his friend.

“Peter isn't a thing.”

“I did not mean to imply such. A treasure needs not be an object to be called precious. Peter is precious, is he not?”

Steve looked determinedly into the eyes of his taller friend.

“He is.”

Then the super soldier looked at his teammates around him. His friends. And he saw his own feelings reflected in their eyes.

“And he is ours.”

______________________________________________________________

Read Part 4: here

Yeah, so this part was supposed to dive right into the chains and captivity and other stuff that I promised, but then I got caught up in the dialouge and, well....

I do hope you still liked it though. I will try to be faster with the next part.

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lilulo-12fanfiction · 5 years

Text

Nothing Breaks Like A Heart- 3

So this took me about 8 years to write. I’m not sure why. But it’s unedited so please ignore the mistakes. The spacing looks off but I’m posting this on mobile so I’ll look at it on my laptop mañana. Likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

Masterlist

Tag List:

@fanfictionjunkie1112 @shreddedparchment

“Uncle Tony! Uncle Tony!” A 6 year old Nora ran to her Uncle and he scooped her up in his arms. “I missed you!” Nora repeatedly kissed her young uncle’s clean shaven face.

“I missed you too baby doll. Why don’t you go over and see Grandpa Obe. I think he has a present for you.” Tony set Nora down and she ran down the hall.

Nora was dreaming. She knew she was. She was standing there watching her memory unfold. It was the strangest dream. She had never had one like this.

“Hello Nora.” Nora slowly turned as her hands trembled. She knew the voice. She took a shaky breath and came face to face with Loki.

“How are you in my dream?” Loki gave Nora a smirk.

“I’m a God Nora Stark. There are many things I can do.”

“Then why are you here?”

“We had so little time together. There is much you don’t know. Things your father hid from you and your Uncle. I’m here to lead you to the truth. Pay attention to this.” Loki turned you back to the scene before you. This couldn’t be your memory. You had left the room.

“Grant- it’s her birthday and every year you leave her here and vanish for days. Eventually she’s not going to be okay with it. You lost your wife. But she lost her mother.”

“Her mother is gone and it’s my job to protect her from what’s to come. I leave to protect her. You don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand.”

“If Nora here infringes on your extra curricular activities, I can get a Nanny.”

“Don’t be stupid. This has nothing to do with her being here. I look forward to this all year. But I’m worried that some day she’s going to resent you and it will be too late.”

“She’s not you. And I’m not our father so just stop. I’ll see you in a week.” Tony stood staring blankly as his brother stormed out. He had no idea what he was hiding. He had left without even saying goodbye to Nora.

“Protect me from what’s to come? What does that mean?!” Nora demanded answers from Loki.

“You have to put it together on your own. I can guide you Nora but you must put the pieces together. “

Before Nora could respond she jolted awake. Her heart was pounding and she couldn’t catch her breath. She felt like she was in a bad version of a Dickens Novel

“That must have been some dream” A deep voice came from her right. She looked over and saw Steve Rogers sitting in the chair next to her bed in the med wing.

“It was intense.” Nora started to regain her bearings.

“Look. I know you don’t want to see me and you think I’m the bad guy. But I had to make that decision. Tony knew what he was doing. I couldn’t risk everything he was willing to sacrifice. I wouldn’t have made that choice if”

“Steve. Steve. I know. I was a bitch. I was emotional and upset and I took it out on you. I’m sorry I spoke to you like that. It was just a lot and I think the poison in my system is making me delirious or something but I know you made the right decision. My uncle wouldn’t able to live with himself if people died to save him.” Steve took Nora’s hand. He could tell she was getting upset again.

“It’s forgotten. It was a difficult day. I’m just glad you and Tony are okay.”

“I think okay is stretch.” Nora laughed.

"Well physically okay." Steve squeezed Nora's hand as the door to her room opened. Bruce walked in, seemingly surprised to see Steve sitting there.

"You ready to get out of here?" Bruce had a strange look on his face.

"I thought you said I'd be here for longer?" Nora furrowed her brow.

"Well, we originally thought you would need IV Antibiotics for longer. It seemed like a nasty infection. But apparently it is healing a lot quicker than anticipated. You aren’t out of the woods but we can switch you to oral antibiotics now. You're still going to be sore and the stitches may give you some trouble but we should be able to take them out soon. There's no reason for you to stay in this bed any longer. But Nora, you need to take it easy for a bit."

“Define take it easy” Bruce looked exasperated as he ran his palm down his face.

“You need to stay in the building for now. We don’t want you exposed to any other bacteria. We don’t know how this will affect your immune system. You’re going to have to keep your leg elevated and the swelling down and crutches to walk.

“So really just like being here but in my own bed or on my ass wheeling around. Bruce I have work to do. The tower is a mess. The city is a mess.”

“It’s not up to you to fix it. You need to take care of yourself.” Nora’s lips were pursed. “Don’t look at me like you’re trying to appease me. You have

to follow instructions.” Bruce was pleading. “Or I’ll call Tony and you’ll stay here.”

“She’ll follow directions Dr. Banner. I’ll make sure of it.” Steve had his arms crossed in front of his chest with authority. Nora’s nostrils flared. Before she could attempt to argue Steve continued talking. “You’re going to need help. Tony needs to recover himself. I, however, am already healed. Let me help you.”

“Must be nice being a Super Soldier, but fine.” Nora threw her hands up. “But don’t even think about trying to treat me like a child.” Nora pointed her finger at Steve with raised eyebrows.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾

Steve wheeled Nora into her apartment. Both he and Bruce insisted on her using it to get to her wing of the tower and use it to go anywhere else in the tower except around her loft.

"Now what?' Nora sighed. Steve could tell she was upset but was trying not to show it.

"Now, I'm going to order some dinner. I don't think you want to be poisoned by my cooking on top of everything else. And then we can watch a movie or whatever you want to do."

"I need to shower, I feel disgusting." Steve nodded and was about to wheel her down to her room. "No, give me the crutches. I'm not an invalid" Steve rolled his eyes and handed her the crutches. He didn't attempt to help her to her feet, he knew she wouldn't let him. He watched her hobble down the hall to her bedroom. He opened a few drawers in her kitchen until he found some menus and pulled them out to decide what to get them for dinner.

Behind the door of her bathroom, Nora let a sob escape from her mouth. She was trying so hard to keep her emotions tucked inside, but after what had just happened she was floored. Aliens, Gods, more aliens. She had no idea what she would have done if she had lost her Uncle. She let her tears flow as she hobbled over to her dresser and pulled out a grey t-shirt and a pair of lavender and grey striped shorts. She struggled for a few moments to figure out how to get changed. She couldn't put any pressure on her leg without horrifying pain. She took a deep breath to center herself and went to the door. "Steve?" she called out. She heard his heavy foot steps and soon he was at her door. "Can you see if you can get Nat or Pepper in here?"

"Nat isn't here, she's at SHEILD. Pepper is doing a press conference right now. Are you okay?" Nora didn't want to open the door for Steve to see her tear stained face.

"I just." She paused. "I can't get changed to get into the shower."

"Do you...do you want my help?" Nora groaned. She didn't want to wait until Pepper would be done. It could be hours. She'd have to swallow her pride and let him help her. She wiped her face as best she could and opened the door. "Nora...you're crying." She clearly she hadn't done a good enough job.

"I'm fine." She stepped back so Steve could walk in. He enveloped her in a hug. She stood there shocked for a moment and then hugged him back and then she felt the damn of tears burst open. He slipped his arm behind her knees and picked her up like she was a feather and walked over to her bed so they could sit. He held her as she cried. "I'm sorry. I don’t know why I’m so damn emotional” She sobbed. "I don't normally break down and cry in front of people. I just..."

"Shhh...don't you dare apologize. And don't hold this all in. I've got you. You're safe with me. These past couple of days have been a lot.” Nora took a deep breath. They sat like that for a while. Nora across Steve’s lap as he had his arms wrapped around her torso and hers around his neck. Finally Nora pulled back.

“I really need to shower but I need help.” Her face turned pink.

“I can help you. I won’t look. It’s okay.” Steve helped her stand up and into her bathroom. She grabbed a towel from her linen cabinet and set it on the counter. Steve opened her shower door and started the water. “How hot do you want it?”

“So hot it almost melts my face off?” Steve laughed.

“I’m not going to turn it that hot. You can adjust it once you get in.” Nora nodded.

“Okay, this is awkward, let’s just power through. I can’t balance to take my pants on or off.” Steve nodded. “I’m going to turn around. I feel like my bare ass is less embarrassing. I mean an ass is ass.”

“However you’re most comfortable “‘Steve laughed. Nora turned around and pulled her t-shirt off and threw it in the hamper. Steve felt his mouth go dry. Nora felt his hands on her hips. “Okay I’m going to slide them off.” Nora nodded. She felt the heat burning on her cheeks. She felt like someone was blowing bubbles in her stomach. She was painfully aware of how firm Steve was holding her waste. His calloused hands were hot against her skin. Suddenly she was painfully aware that she was completely naked. “Can you step in by yourself?” Nora nodded unable to speak. She stepped in and quickly shut the door behind her. “I’m going to go back into your room. The towel is right here. Call me when you’re ready for me.

“Okay. Thanks Steve.” Nora felt her heart pounding.

“Of course. I’ll be right outside”. Steve ran his hands down his face. He spent the entire time thinking of the most non-sexual thoughts he could to avoid being turned on. He was attracted to Nora, she was beautiful, but there was something about her that was magnatizing.

He looked around her room. The walls were a grayish purple. The room wasn’t as big as he thought it would be, but it was still bigger than any room he had ever slept in. There was a slanted ceiling near the bathroom that created a large alcove where an oak roll top desk and chair was located. She had a matching chest of drawers that matched the desk as well as a large bookshelf that was loaded with books. Nora being a bookworm made him smile. Her king sized bed was in the middle of the room with an oak nightstand on one side and on the other was an elaborate lamp. It was built like a tree and was covered with glass flowers that all had tiny light bulbs in the middle. There was a smaller black lamp on the night stand.

Parallel to the wall with the door was a set of glass french doors with trim painted the black. It led out to a substantial balcony. Steve imagined Nora spent a lot of time out there. Her glanced over at her bluish purple bed spread that was a soft chenille. It was simple and loaded with pillows. He wondered how she fit in the bed with that many pillows. He walked over to the bookshelf and took a picture off to study it. It had

to be her parents. Grant was the spitting imagine of Howard Stark, even more than Tony. He knew the woman was her mother, although her hair was blonde it hung in spirals like Nora’s. She also had the same captivating sea green eyes as her daughter. Next to that was a picture of an older Howard and he assumed Maria who was holding a little bundle he was sure was Nora. Steve knew they didn’t live much longer after the picture had been taken. He glanced at a few photos of Nora and Grant. There was one of Nora, maybe 12, with Pepper. There was then an onslaught of photos of Nora and Tony. Ones with a young Tony and a toddler Nora. He saw her grow up in the photos. Her High School graduation, prom, a Christmas photo. Despite all of her loss, Tony has given her the best life possible. Not with his money, but with how much he loved her. The pride in his eyes in each photo jumped out at you. His favorite picture was of her and Tony, she was holding a cello and happiness was radiating from her.

Steve jumped and put the photo with back when he heard the bathroom door open. Nora hobbled out wearing her towel and holding her clothes. “I’m all done.” Her voice was quiet and sheepish.

“Here, sit down on the edge of the bed.” Steve helped her over as she sat. He took the black cotton boy short panties and slid them up to her knees and did The same with her shorts. “If you stand will you be able to pull them up the rest of the way?” Nora nodded. Steve tried to ignore her blazingly red face. “Okay, I’ll help you stand and then you can finish getting dressed. Your crutches are right there on the bed.” Steve helped her stand and then headed towards her door.

“Steve?” He heard her say in almost a whisper. “Thank you.” He nodded at her with a smile and headed back out to the living room.

♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾

Nora used her crutches to get back out to the main area. Her large apartment started with an open floor plan. The substantial kitchen and living room were what you saw when you walked in. Dark hardwood floors throughout. Parallel to her door was a long hallway with 5 doors. On the right hand side was first the guest bedroom and the master bedroom at the end of the hall. On the other side there were two more doors with a half bath in the middle. Each bedroom had its own bathroom.

“So I ordered some pizza and wings. I figured it was a safe bet.”

“That’s fine, but I’m not really hungry to be honest.”

“You definitely have to eat Nora. All of that medicine will kill your stomach.” She nodded and hobbled over to the living room. She had a large taupe microfiber couch with ottoman at each end and two over sized chairs on each side. There was an antique looking entertainment center and above it, mounted to the wall was a large flat screen TV. About 6 feet back from the couch was a large wooden table with a marble top. It had a long bench on the side closest to the wall with 3 large chairs Across from it and 2 on each end. There was a wall of floor to ceiling windows. Across from the large table right next to the windows was a baby grand piano. Nora sat on the couch propping her leg up on the ottoman.

“You really don’t have to stay Steve. I’ll be fine.” Nora finally said. Steve had been studying her profile after she sat down. She looked overwhelmed and slightly sad.

“I know you’d be fine but you really shouldn’t be alone. Something could happen and you’re not at 100%. Unless you don’t want me here, I could call Nat.”

“No that’s not it. I just feel bad that I’m hijacking your life.” Steve walked over and sat next to Nora and faced her.

“You’re not hijacking anything. There’s no place else I’d rather be.” His warm smile set her at ease. His hand was next to hers and she linked her pinky with his. Steve was amazed that a tiny little touch could send his heart racing. Before either of them could say or do anything else there was a knock on the door. Steve jumped up to open it and was greeted by Tony’s confused face. He walked past Steve into the apartment. Steve could tell he was trying to appear uninjured but his movements said otherwise. Even after a few days since the battle his face was bruised up.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you here Cap.” Tony glanced over his shoulder with a knowing look at Steve. He looked guilty and Nora looked flustered.

“Uh Dr. Banner had some stipulations on letting Nora out of the med bay so I told him I’d stick around to help.”

“Jarvis- have some clothes sent over for the Captain if he’s staying here. Don’t need him smelling up the place.” Tony ordered his A.I. He smiled at Nora and kissed her on the cheek and sat down next to her. “Hi babydoll, how’s my girl?” Steve stepped into the kitchen to give them some privacy. He sat at the large island on one of the stools. The marble top on the island and the rest of the counters matched the table. The color of the cabinets matched the color of her furniture. Her french door refrigerator and 6 burner stove as well as the dish washer were black. He looked at the walls of the entire area. The color was a very pale turquoise. Almost so pale it was white. One wall on the living room side behind the table and piano was exposed brick. Her tastes were simple and clean.

“I’m okay. Really tired still. How are you? Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“Oh honey I’m fine. I’ve had worse than this.”

Nora gave him a skeptical look. “I came over once I heard you were back over here to see if you wanted to stay on my floor so you weren’t alone, but I see you aren’t.”

“You need to take care of yourself and not worry about me. You fell out of the sky!”

“Banner broke my fall.” Tony gave his signature smirk. “But I see you’re in good hands here so I’m going to head back over before Pepper comes hunting for me. Call me if you need anything.” Tony kissed her forehead. “Love you Nori. Keep that leg up and don’t try to over do it.”

“Ditto, on all accounts.” She smiled adoringly up at her Uncle. He gave her a shrug.

“My legs are fine.” He turned to Steve and nodded “Captain.” After a second glance, he headed out the door.

Steve managed to get Nora to eat a piece of pizza and a couple of wings. He took it as a victory. He walked back over to the couch and handed Nora her antibiotics and some of her pain medication. She swallowed it quickly with her water. Steve sat down next to her as she picked another movie.

“You look exhausted. Why don’t we call it a night.”

“I don’t want to sleep” Nora confessed.

“You need some rest. It’ll help you heal.”

“If I sleep, I’ll dream and I’d like to avoid that.” Concern was draped over Steve’s face.

“Nightmares?”

“Among other things.”

“Here lean forward.” As Nora moved he slid behind her so she could rest her torso on his and stretch her legs out across the couch. It took Nora a moment to settle back, taken by surprise. Once she was resting against him Steve covered them with the large blanket that was on the back of the couch. “Rest, go to sleep. If you start having a nightmare I’ll wake you up.” Nora nodded and then started the movie. About 15 minutes after the movie started her head fell back against Steve’s shoulder. Steve leaned his head back and closed his eyes, the sweet smell of Nora’s shampoo helping him drift off to sleep.

#steve rogers x stark oc #steve rogers x oc #captain america x oc #captain american imagine #captain america #steve rogers #stark oc #tony stark x oc #tony stark #tony stark x stark!OC #avengers fic #avengers fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers imagine

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hollandroos · 6 years

Text

Under Your Spell | Steve Rogers X Witch Reader

Words: 1412

Summary: The reader manages to sneak a love potion into Steves drink, maybe him immediately head over heals for her. But anyone should know better then to mess with a Super Soldier.

3 hours, 52 minutes and 18 seconds.

That’s how long it’d been since you poured a drop of the crimson red liquid into Steve Rogers drink at breakfast. Maybe a love potion wasn’t the smartest idea you’d ever had, heck it was nowhere near the smartest, maybe even one of the worst but nothing was stopping you. Not even the constant tug of guilt that was buried in the back of your mind during the process.

You were too young to know exactly what you were doing, but too old to be using your magic this carelessly. You were a witch, much like Wanda but your powers came at birth, coming from a line of ancient witches, some with much stronger powers than yours.

You weren’t the kind of Witch humans would watch on tv shows or hear lingered in the early ages. No, you didn’t own a black cat, prefer yourself locked in the dark or walk around with a black, pointy hat upon your head or cursed people you absolutely despised with the utmost worst luck known to man.

However, you did own a collection of some of the world’s most beautiful crystals, each holding the ability to calm your nerves or warn off evil spirits. Some you just owned to stare at in complete awe. Your windowsill held an array of herbs and other plants that you had collected during your time in the Avengers tower.

Studying the powers of the universe, what balanced it and what made it unsettled was your forte. Alongside witchcraft and natural remedies, you were easily an asset to the team.

Steve Rogers had been your light in the dark. He’d accepted your gift and everything else that came with it from midnight rituals to sometimes locking yourself away for days at a time to complete a new spell.

The blue eyed man had sat with you when your emotions had become too much for a simple meditation session or cup of herbal tea to fix and carried you to bed on the two rare nights that you fell asleep beside him on the living room loveseat.

So of course you couldn’t help but fall for him.

You weren’t worried about your magic going wrong, heck it never went drastically wrong. But now, you were starting to wonder if you’d finally gone too far.

Only if you knew that the boy had been tripping over his own two feet for you since day one.

The first time he’d seen you after gulping down the drink his eyes had almost blown out of his head, a warm smile adoring his features and he acted like a love sick puppy but the second time, god it was worse. The potion had taken full affect, but maybe it’d gone a tad too far.

“Y/N, You’re looking beautiful as ever”

His eyes, filled with love for you, but still you couldn’t help but feel guilty for your actions. God, you were a bad person, a bad witch, a bad avenger. Steve’s voice was laced with fondness and something else, something you couldn’t exactly make out at the time.

“Thank you, you’re looking well, how do you feel?” Your cheeks were a deep shade of red and you were thankful that the others had already gone out.

“I feel… different, but a good different” Steve smiled. “Let me help you” He took your plate from the bench, his glass of water in his other hand and placed them down at the table.

You watched him, he moved angelically, though he was stiff too. You thanked him for taking your plate, sitting down beside him.

“How have I never noticed everything about you? You’re so- precious” Steve spoke poetically. Honey dripping from his words.

You crinkled up your nose ever so slightly, cringing at his choice of words. This was a Joke, it had to be. Physically Steve looked the same, but he didn’t act the same. It was almost as if he’d gone soft. Too soft, because of your spell.

“Thank you, I guess” You poke at your food with the fork, suddenly having no appetite.

“Let me help you my love” Steve gently takes the fork out of your hands and into his own, stabbing a piece of pasta and directing it towards your mouth.

“oh, you don’t have to- Really Steve it’s okay”

“No, it’d really make my day” Hesitantly you open your mouth, much to Steves pleasure and take a mouthful of the pasta.

He winked. “Wasn’t that hard was it”

You’d jumped straight into the deep end.

“Y/N!”

You groaned loudly, Steve’s hand stopping you from shutting your bedroom door.

“Yes?” Putting on a fake smile, you forced yourself to turn to the soldier, admitting that yes he looked good in a baggy, white t shirt and plaid Panama shorts but whatever he was about to say was bound to get on his nerves somehow.

The day had been jam packed with Steve making flirty comments and assisting you whenever he could. You should’ve liked it, that’s why you fed him the potion in the first place but you just couldn’t

You cringed at the memory of him knocking on your bathroom door only an hour ago, asking if you were alright. Bucky’s snickering could be heard even over your sigh of annoyance.

“I was coming to help you into bed”

“Why don’t you just tuck me in as well” You joke, Steve obviously not understanding.

“I can do that”

You run a hand through your hair, none of your candles or crystals having enough power to calm you in this state. You wanted- no needed to come clean, the truth was eating you alive more and more by the second.

“I did something bad Steve, something you may hate me for and I’ll understand if you do but I need you to know before I tell you that i’m sorry, i’m really sorry” You put your head down, fiddling with your fingers and the small, pendant bracelet around your wrist.

Steve stared at the witch before him, eyes holding a kind of sparkle that he swore he’d seen in no one else’s. Maybe it was due to you being a witch, or maybe it was due to the nineties soldier being head over heels for you.

He’d had his fun. A part of him wanted to continue testing your limits, but the better half thought it was better to spill the truth. Put you out of your misery, although the truth would surely cause you embarrassment.

“I know”

Steve’s blunt, sudden answer shocked you, what else shocked you was that he didn’t sound angry at all, in fact he sounded amused. “Wait-what? I don’t think you do”

“I know that you snuck a love potion into my drink the other night” Steve held a smug smirk on his face, knowing full well that he had something over you now. “The serum must’ve made me immune to that type of stuff, but I’m not silly doll, plus, FRIDAY can’t really keep a secret.”

Your cheeks flushed a darker shade of red, if that was even possible in your current situation.

“God- Steve I can’t express how sorry I am, It was stupid and immature and I- I really shouldn’t have done that”

“Why didn’t you just tell me you liked me? You know I like you too” Steves places his hand under your chin, tilting your head up so that you’re looking into his eyes. Those eyes you swore you could get sucked into.

And that smile, don’t even get started on the smile.

“You do?” Your eyes light up before your mind snaps you back to reality. “Wait, is this just your way of getting back at me for what I did? Because if so i deserve it but-”

No spell of yours could have prepared you for what happened next. You were so caught up in your rambling that you didn’t notice Steve roll his eyes, humour filled smirk disappearing as he stepped forward, planting his lips straight on yours.

The kiss was soft, comforting though it barely steadied your rapid heart beat.

“If I were just getting back at you, I wouldn’t have done that” Steve’s voice seemed almost slightly raspier than before and you struggled to look him in the eyes, instead choosing to keep your gaze on his chest. “I was always under your spell, potion or not”

#steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers headcanon #captain america #captain america imagines #captain America fluff #captain America fanfic #mcu #avengers #writing #prompt

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wordsaremybestfriends · 6 years

Text

Didn’t Ask For This: Chapter 4

Hey friends! We’re BACK with another chapter of this little shindig, and it’s just about to start picking up again…

If you’d like to be tagged in this, don’t hesitate to ask! ALSO, if you want to talk about the story or talk in general, shoot me a message anytime!! :)

Warnings: Cursing, child abuse, vocal abuse, violence, *TELL ME IF YOU FIND ANYTHING ELSE*

“I don’t see why Steve couldn’t have come with us,” Dustin murmured as he hopped off the back of her parked scooter in their garage, tossing his helmet onto a hook beside it. “He helped us last time.”

“That good-for-nothing manwhore got lucky last time,” Emma growled as she walked towards a supply cabinet with different gardening tools inside. Even though a hockey stick and old guitar were helpful, they needed some steel and hard weapons against the monster downstairs. “He got in at the right time. I’m not letting him get another chance to play hero.”

“Didn’t you have a crush on him, though, like, in middle school?”

The girl froze, a blush climbing up the back of her neck to her cheeks as she faltered pushing through random gardening shears and shovels. A knot in her throat had made speaking harder than it looked, as she fought to come up with a response. “W-Well, you know, he’s just kind of like, um, a major dick at school.”

Dustin’s face broke into a grin from across the garage, eyes wide. He couldn’t hold in the giggle as he wiggled his eyebrows at his sister’s back, the secret he had almost forgotten until now suddenly the only thing he could think about. “You do still like him!”

“Shut up, Dustin,” She grumbled, pushing past some potting soil. “I do not.”

“I bet you still think about his hair like you used to,” He said, as he suddenly sunk his voice into a romanticized daze. “Oh Steve,” He said with his voice in a high pitched squeal, hand over his heart and knuckles at his temple to try to embody a pink-cheeked princess with hearts for eyes, swooning over a romantic prince. “How I wish to play with your hair, to braid, to comb-”

“Shut up!” She shouted, trying to fight the bashful smile on her face.

The memory of her telling her brother about her silly crush on the boy in the back of Mr. Kipler’s seventh grade class was almost as embarrassing as the fact her feelings for the boy hadn’t faded. She loved the way his hair bounced atop her head, and how it almost looked weightless in everything he did. Basketball, running, taking notes, nothing changed it’s physics-defying attention grabber. There was a single moment that she had told him in particular, of when she had forgotten her colored pencils for a group project, and the young boy had come to her rescue, sharing politely as they worked together quietly. Even though it was five years ago, Emma still hoped that thoughtful, respectful boy was deep underneath the popular, neglectful teenager he had grown into.

But then again, she knew that boy she once fell in love with was gone. It was no use to pine over him and his soft, homey eyes.

“We could carve our initials into a tree,” Dustin sighed, and Emma turned to face him, finally, the shit-eating grin on her face impossible to hide. “And talk about how much we love each other together!”

“You’re a real pill, you know that?” Emma said with a giggle as she tossed an old gardening glove at him, the two laughing brightly with one another.

They fell into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, still searching the garage for supplies. So far, nothing was good enough to fight off a blood-thirsty monster, unless it was immune to poppy seeds and various empty clay pots.

“I think I might need to make a trip to the hardware store,” Emma admitted, wiping off the grainy dirt that had collected on her hands on her jeans. “You wanna head there with me, or stay and wait?”

“I think I’m gonna try to call Will’s house again,” Dustin said as he made his way to the door. “Don’t forget to grab some lighter fluid and flares. Remember?”

“Sure, because I might forget burning a seven foot monster to bits,” Emma deadpanned as she started her scooter, and slowly pulled out of the garage. She yelled a ‘be safe!’ to her brother before turning onto the street and out of sight.

Dustin barely heard Steve’s car pull into the empty lot beside his house as he stepped inside to grab a handful of halloween candy that had gotten forgotten on the front table. He almost let the door click behind him before he heard his name, a foot jamming into the doorway before it closed. “Hey, man, where did your sis go?”

The boy rolled his eyes as he turned to face the teen nonchalantly. The bomber jacket that Steve had been wearing was torn off, as if he was ready for a battle instead of ready to go study for a stupid class. “She went to go get supplies so we could kill that son of a bitch. Why do you need to know?”

Steve shrugged as he ran his hand through his hair. His fingers fiddled with the hem of the long sleeve shirt he wore, drawing up the sleeves to his elbows as he folded his arms against his chest. “If you guys have another… You know, monster problem…”

“Emma doesn’t want your help,” Dustin smirked. “And it’s not that big of a deal. It’s already locked up, we just have to burn it and we win.”

The taller boy rolled his eyes as he sighed. Dustin turned away, interest quickly fading as he turned to start browsing the fridge instead. “Why does your sister hate me so much? I swear, I leave her alone at school, I try to make sure that no one talks about her behind her back, but every time she looks at me, she looks like she wants to skin me alive, you know?”

Dustin fought to hide his growing smile as he thought back to his and his sister’s most recent conversation. His eyes grew wide with the priceless opportunity he had at the moment to fuck with the most popular guy in Hawkins. “Maybe it’s because of your hair.”

“My… hair?” Steve repeated, the words slow and ultimately more confusing than the fact that there might be a killing machine below him. “She doesn’t like me… Because of my hair?”

“It’s the way it looks,” Dustin continued as he pulled a cup down for some water. It was almost terrible how good he was at lying sometimes, with a nonchalant voice and a bored look in his eyes. “It defies gravity or physics, or whatever, and it pisses her off that she doesn’t know how it works, you know?”

Even though the words out of Dustin’s lips weren’t a complete lie, the look on the boy’s face was priceless as he stood in absolute shock and wonder. His mouth gaped wide enough to stuff a golf ball into it as he stood in the Henderson living room, mind trying to work out exactly how she managed to hate him for the longest time.

“You’re kidding me,” Steve said breathlessly as he fell onto the couch. His head went into his hands, as he tried to process this absolutely stupid and mostly insane information. “You’re saying the reason that the reason Emma hates me is because of my damn hair?”

The younger boy shrugged. “I don’t know, she’s a girl. She thinks weird.”

“You’re shitting me, Henderson.”

“I most definitely am not, Harrington.”

Dustin scowled at the teen, hellbent on selling his act. “You asked the question and I answered it!”

Steve’s voice was quiet, almost escaping Dustin’s ears as he spoke. “Emma Henderson, intelligent, beautiful, confident Emma Henderson… Hates me because how how my hair looks? Insane…”

Now it was Dustin’s turn to look at Steve as if he had two heads. His lips were pursed as he let out a mist of water, trying to cough out the gulps that had gotten stuck in his throat. His face went red while he tripped over his words, trying to reply to Steve’s almost insignificant comment.

“Y-You just called my sister attractive,” Dustin said. Steve’s eyes flicked up to stare back at the boy as the color in his face began to turn pink instead of a pale tan.

“N-No, I didn’t.”

“But… you just said that Emma Henderson was intelligent, beautiful, and confident.”

“I did not!” Steve said indignantly back at the boy, on his feet as he glared at the younger boy. “I said… I said she was the most adaptive! The… the most adaptive girl in school!”

“Holy shit… Steve Harrington just said that!” Dustin said with a giant smile breaking over his face. He couldn’t contain the laughter in his chest at the general situation, the irony more entertaining than the actual words said. “You just called my sister attractive! Do you like her?”

“What’s it to you?” He grumbled, rolling his eyes. He’d only mentioned that to the NBA Lakers poster in his room once or twice or thirty times. And he threw that notebook filled with their initials and random ramblings about her

Dustin shrugged once more with arms crossed. “Curious. And you never know when that knowledge will come to use, you know?”

“And if you tell anyone that I just told you that,” Steve said as he crossed the living room in two long strided, only a few feet from Dustin’s face, finger pointed down at his chest. “Your ass is grass. You’re dead, Henderson.”

He smirked up at the taller boy, a thought beginning to grow in the back of his mind as he held Steve’s gaze. “One condition, Harrington.”

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