#what pop song do you imagine Steve's warming up to?
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Every Baby Needs a Daddy 5
Part 4
to tboyeddie and kas-eddie-munson: yall are on the right track ;)
to a-blog-of-negotiable-affections: i hope this part makes your brain just as goopy as the last.
Steve closed the door to the hotel bedroom. He thought about how he'd already been fucked in this bed. Then he wondered how much longer Eddie would be in town and what sort of bed he'd be taken in next. He went to the bathroom first, checking himself over. Eddie hadn't marked him up yet. But from the way he used his teeth, Steve could tell he wanted to.
He decided to give Eddie a few more minutes to get wherever he was going. In the meantime, he undressed, got comfortable on the bed and checked his socials before getting started.
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Leaving Steve behind was probably the most difficult thing he had to do. But there was no getting out of it when his manager called a meeting like this. But he literally had a hot and ready omega waiting for him. So he was going to be diligent and knock this out so he could get back.
"Alright, I'm here", he announced, using both hands to thrust open the doors of the conference room. "You can all calm down now."
"About time." His manager had her arms crossed. Chrissy looked small and cute but Eddie only let that fool him once. She'd taken their band out of dive bars and brought them into relevance. The rest of his band was there as well, sitting around a table.
From how urgent it sounded, Eddie had a hunch this was about a future venture. Now whether it was a tour or a new album or something like that, Eddie was all for, and glad that they wanted him present for the strategy meeting. But Steve...
His phone buzzed with a text notification and he opened it, eyes bulging and closing it, looking around to see if anyone saw. Gareth was too his left, but with enough distance that he'd have to crane his neck to see his phone. Cautiously, Eddie opened it up again and swallowed.
Steve: Daddy left me all alone guess I have to play with myself
Steve: image.jpeg
The picture was of Steve's mouth, his lips shiny with two fingers dipped down to the first knuckle. Eddie could tell from the framing that Steve was in bed, and at the very least shirtless. He put his phone face down but the image was burned in his head. Steve was naked in the hotel room, pleasuring himself, hopefully to the thought of Eddie.
"Got something on your mind, Eds?", Jeff asked when he noticed his strange look.
"Uh, just thinking about covers, you know, covers could be cool it's been a minute since we performed covers."
Gareth perked up. "What if we did a metal cover of a non-metal song? Those are always a hit."
Eddie smiled. They'd only done that live a couple of times but they did it a lot more before they got discovered. Between the four of them, they had varied music tastes and it was always a great creative exercise to change them to fit the new genre.
Then his phone buzzed again.
Eddie bit his lip and peeked at the new picture. This time it was of Steve playing with his chest, nipple pinched between two fingers. The last time they were together, he'd only gotten a taste of him. Eddie wanted more time to explore everything Steve had to offer. He needed more time.
The next picture came more quickly. This time it was of Steve's lower half. It started from his belly button to the very top of his crotch, those dark curls tempting before disappearing under the covers.
Eddie: Tease
Eddie: I thought you said you were gonna be good
Steve: I never said that
The next picture was of Steve's hand dipping under the blanket. Eddie turned his phone face down on the table again as he let his imaginations run wild. He tamped it down when Chrissy gave him a worried look. He really didn't need his pheromones stinking up the joint. If the boys knew he was mooning over the same omega as before, he'd never hear the end of it. They'd probably meet Steve soon enough anyway.
Steve: You're the one who said to keep it warm
The next image popped up but Eddie put his phone down before it could fully load, sure that it would be the end of him. Grant and Jeff were having a friendly debate on their outfits for the next show and Eddie couldn't hold back anymore. He opened up the image and was blessed with Steve's glorious, sopping cunt, spread out on white sheets.
Eddie bit so deep into his knuckle he would've tasted blood had Gareth not slammed his hands down onto the table. Eddie was glad that his friends were always so passionate about whatever adventure they were on. At times like these, it freed him from having to be an active participant.
Eddie: Behave
He tried paying attention after that. It was bad form to pop a boner and he'd get to sink into that sweet heat soon enough. He was going to knot Steve this time. He deserved it, his pussy was desperate for him and Eddie wasn't so unkind to deny him.
Now Chrissy was asking them about venues and Eddie was attentive and alert and had his head in the game and-
buzz
It was a video. Sent from Steve. Eddie sucked in a breath and quickly excused himself to go to the bathroom. Taking no chances, he plugged his headphones into the jack and locked the door to the stall. He saw thick, hairy legs that he was already familiar with but wanted to get to know even better. Steve sighed straight into his ears as he straddled one of the hotel's pillows.
"Wish it was you, alpha." He let out a small whine as he started to grind, no doubt getting the pillow wet.
Eddie palmed himself as he watched, wishing the same with all his might. Steve moaned, unbidden as he got himself off on the softness between his legs. Eddie pulled out his cock and it wasn't hard to imagine Steve sliding his pussy on it like he'd been trying to do to his leg earlier. He could tell by the panting that Steve was getting close and his hips moved quicker.
He moaned Eddie's name and collapsed, face still out of frame while his hips stuttered. Fuck, that pillow must be soaked. Eddie pumped his cock, just the thought of getting it wet with Steve's juices enough to push him over the edge.
After cleaning himself up, he locked the video. It was for his eyes only. He returned to the meeting, secret safe except it wasn't.
"Dude, you reek", Jeff said the moment he walked in.
"Yeah, does planning really get you that hard?", Grant teased.
"You know it does, Grant-master Flash", Eddie beamed. He shot off a quick message to Steve.
Eddie: Baby likes to put on a show hope you're ready for an encore later
Steve: 🩷
About an hour later, the meeting ended and Eddie was able to get back to Steve. He called out his name when he got to the hotel room and when he didn't get an answer, he went to the bedroom. There was his latest obsession, sleeping like an angel. Eddie walked over quietly, his nose catching the scent of the pillow Steve had used, lying next to him. Eddie buried his face in it, his tongue coming out to lick whatever was left.
Then he turned his attention to Steve. He was lying on his side, blanket only covering him from the hips down. It must have been very purposeful, because Eddie was able to see something peeking out. He pulled the cover down a bit to see a little sticky note attached to his pelvis. There was a little message, with an arrow pointing downwards.
Play with me until I wake up
Eddie could have thrown his hands up in praise. But instead, he would partake in the communion Steve was giving him.
Steve woke up from his nap to someone kissing his neck and kneading his chest. He let out a soft sigh when one of his nipples was pinched. The spicy musk of aroused alpha filled his senses.
"Eddie~", he breathed out as a hand trailed down his torso.
"I see you kept it warm for me", Eddie murmured, letting his fingers slip between his folds.
Steve was still half asleep and it made everything move like syrup in his mind. It was like an amazing dream that he didn't want to wake from. He spread himself as best as he could on his side and that gave Eddie room to start slipping his fingers inside.
"Daddy....Daddy..."
"I've gotchu, baby." Eddie started nibbling at his shoulder. "Think you can take my knot like this?"
"Yes", Steve answered right away, the remnants of sleep knocked from him at the thought of being filled like that. "Yes", he repeated, hoping it would spur Eddie on.
It got the desired result because he felt the tip of his cock rubbing up against him. Steve pushed back and Eddie pulled his fingers out, quickly replacing it with something better. Eddie meant to go slow, let them take their time because they had time. But Steve rocked back and Eddie pressed his forehead to his shoulder as he slid inside.
"Mmmmfuck, feel so good baby. So perfect for me."
"Only the best-ah-for my alpha."
Eddie couldn't let him get away. Not when he drove him wild like this. Even when he was done with this town and onto the next, he had to take Steve with him.
"Need you with me, need your sweetness. You'll want for nothing, baby, I'll give you anything."
For a split second, Steve wondered if his pussy was really that good to make Eddie babble things like that but the next moment he was certain that Eddie's dick was really that good. As it thrust into him, making wet noises in the room, Steve wanted to follow it around the world. If Eddie wanted to take him to the Arctic, Steve would be there, ready to sit on his face.
It was just as good as before, then Steve felt that knot pop in and he saw stars. Eddie bit into his shoulder as he felt Steve milking his cock. All that was missing was the feeling of actually cumming inside of him. Eddie always wrapped it up, obsessed with Steve or not. Until such a time that Steve confessed that he wanted Eddie's seed coating his insides then-
"Hey, you remember how you said we're exclusive?", Steve asked through pants.
"Yeah?"
"I'm thinking..." He craned his neck to meet Eddie's gaze from behind him. "I'm thinking maybe that means you can go without the condom."
Eddie's dick twitched from inside Steve. This man would be the death of him.
Too spent to go out, Eddie ordered them room service and Steve spent the night there again. Back at home, Steve contemplated looking up Eddie's band and learning more about them. He debated simply because he didn't know how much of it would come up. Eddie was taking him to a party. Would he be expected to know their hits? Or how respected they were in the business? Or their rivals were if they had any?
Steve couldn't help but compare this to the life he'd left behind. Being told to smile prettily while the alphas talked business. Eddie probably wasn't expecting him to know much about anything. He'd bought him a nice suit and would have something pretty to show off for the evening. That was Steve's job.
He let out a sigh and opened up his laptop. He searched up 'corroded coffin' and strapped in for the evening.
Part 6
I realized that while i've been tagging the a/b/o stuff, I never really put up a warning for the daddy kink stuff but like...yall read the title LOL
Tag Team
@awkotaco24 @lingeringmirth @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @tartarusknight @velocitytimes2 @mrsjellymunson @trashcanniballecter @marklee-blackmore @dragonmama76 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie @sllooney @starman-jpg @oxidantdreamboat @xxbottlecapx @chaosgremlinmunson @newtstabber @tiny-enthusiast @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper @y4r3luv @hello-fellow-nerds @anonymousbandgirl @alyelf @potato-of-the-lord @beckkthewreck @greatwerewolfbeliever @croatoan-like-its-hot @pluto-pepsi @abstractnaturaldisaster @ellietheasexylibrarian
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Most of the time, Eddie likes being in jazz band. He likes having at least one class he’s guaranteed to pass. He likes being around music geeks. Likes the smell of the band room and the routine of unpacking and re-packing instruments from cases. But for two days in February, jazz band partners with the show choir for their biggest and most successful (and most unfortunate) fundraiser of the year. Singing Valentines. Where any Hawkins High student can pay a dollar to publicly serenade (or humiliate, if you ask Eddie, but nobody ever does) the person of their choice. And Eddie does not like being in jazz band for that.
Mostly it’s the same story every year: boys’ last minute ploys to get into their girlfriends’ pants despite having failed to get a dinner reservation; girls and their genuine desire to do something sweet for a friend; and, Eddie’s least favorite category, jocks riling each other up.
Monday, February 13th, 1984. Day one of Eddie’s hopefully last year of singing valentines (although who is he kidding, Mrs. O’Donnell is never going to pass him), goes smoothly. He gets to skip his afternoon classes in favor of playing mind-numbingly boring pop songs on guitar to accompany some choir girl whose name he can’t remember. Nobody really pays him any mind, too busy jeering at the valentine victim, and he can let his mind wander to the absolutely sadistic campaign he’s planning for Hellfire. He almost, almost lets himself believe he can get through this stupid fundraiser without incident.
After school, Eddie is loading his guitar into his van, making a mental list of things he needs to pick up from the store before Wayne starts his night shift, when he hears someone shout “Hey freak!” from across the parking lot. He tenses, turns slowly, and sees Tommy H jogging up to him.
“Yo, where do I buy one of those singing things?”
Eddie’s brain takes a minute to realize he doesn’t need to make a run for it (yet), long enough that Tommy has repeated himself (and not nicely, either, why can’t it ever be nicely with these assholes).
“Hey, freak, are you deaf? What’s the deal with the singing?”
One of these days Eddie will tell his high school bullies to fuck right the hell off but today is not one of those days because as much as he hates singing valentines and Tommy (it’s actually too close to call which one he hates more), he does like to support the arts and help fundraise for band and all that shit. And he also really, really doesn’t want to get his ass beat. He digs around in his jacket pocket for one of the order forms and holds it out.
“Uh, just, uh, fill this out and then it’s a dollar.”
With surprisingly little fanfare other than shoving the paper and cash at him with way too much force, Tommy makes his generous contribution to the Hawkins High Jazz Band, and leaves Eddie to stare down at the name written on the order form.
Steve Harrington. To be serenaded in Mr. Sommers’s fourth period history.
“Jesus H Christ,” Eddie moans to himself. As if having a stupid crush on Hawkins’ golden boy wasn’t bad enough, now Eddie has to watch him look embarrassed and maybe blush and do that shoulder punching thing that jocks do to look macho that always makes Eddie think about a firm grasp on his own shoulder and, whoa, okay, not the time buddy. He takes a brief detour to the band room and adds Tommy’s order to their stack for tomorrow, drops off the money, and prays that maybe, just maybe, he’ll be able to get out of it.
Tuesday, February 14th, 1984. Eddie doesn’t get out of it. Instead he spends all morning dreading fourth period. So of course before he knows it he’s in Mr. Sommers’s class, trying to hide behind the tiny frame of a different random choir girl, and playing guitar for King Steve himself.
Steve is, as Eddie had imagined for way too long last night, blushing. A soft rosy flush creeping up his neck and warming his cheeks. Eddie is trying so hard not to stare at his lips, which are curved in a self-deprecating smile. Tommy is in the back row, beside himself with laughter, and Steve keeps briefly glaring over at him before turning back to listen to the performance politely, always the gentleman. Eddie tries to concentrate on playing chords, but he could probably do this song in his sleep, and the siren song of Steve’s hand running through his hair, and his goddamn freckles, is too strong and he can’t look away.
He swears there’s a brief moment when Steve catches him staring, their eyes meeting in an electric charge, before the song is over and the room is filled with jeers and halfhearted applause and Eddie can make his escape with the sinking certainty that he’s never, ever going to get over this crush now that he’s seen what Steve looks like overwhelmed and flushed.
Saturday, February 14th, 1987. Despite the fact that Eddie has spent most of his life criticizing Valentine’s Day for its heteronormativity and capitalist agenda, he’s still a romantic at heart. And this year he actually has someone to romance, someone who doesn’t treat him like a dirty little secret. Someone who he knows, from experience, will blush oh so prettily when given even the slightest show of affection. Which is how he finds himself once again serenading Steve Harrington, this time with a cheesy pop song carefully selected from Steve’s tape collection.
“Sometimes it’s like someone took a knife, baby, edgy and dull, and cut a six inch valley through the middle of my skull,” Eddie croons, relishing Steve’s heavy gaze on him, soaking in the affection.
“Only you, can cool my desire, oh I’m on fire,” he sings, and hates that Springsteen just fits so right. Because Steve’s face is flaming, and Eddie wants to soothe the burn (preferably with his tongue).
As the closing chords fade away, Eddie waits, loathe to break the silence that sits heavy between them. Steve opens his mouth, closes it, and Eddie is waiting for breathless praise, or something sappy, because goddamn it he deserves it after that.
“Ok, it’s a tie.” Steve is grinning, looking mischievous. Eddie’s confusion must be evident on his face because Steve clarifies: “It’s a tie between this and the first time you serenaded me.”
Eddie gapes at him. “You remember that?”
“How could I forget?” Steve is definitely messing with him, except, there’s something sincere in his eyes. “You had the cutest blush, I thought about it for weeks after.”
Eddie stammers, outraged and more than a little embarrassed. “I can’t believe it, I had the biggest crush on you, I was trying so hard not to stare! There’s no way you noticed!”
And Steve, altogether too earnest, sends Eddie spiraling. “How could I not notice you, Eds? You’re lovely. And not exactly subtle…”
Eddie barely remembers to move his guitar aside before he’s throwing himself toward Steve, murmuring “you’re lovely” and “sweetheart” and “my angel” between kisses. When they finally break apart, breathless, Eddie can’t help but tease, “You know, I’m not sure I’ve maximized my serenading potential. Maybe third time’s the charm…”
#steddie#stranger things#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things ficlet#i dont even know what this is tbh#my school actually had singing valentines and they were exactly as bizarre as depicted here#also i very much imagine eddie and robin in jazz band together#A writes
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not to add to your wip's but... Eddie saying this to Steve as he watches him cook breakfast on their six month anniversary https://www.tumblr.com/heavyheavycream/735906040127930368/small-dialogue-i-thought-would-be-cute?source=share :)
Oh you. (I'm not complaining, this gave me something to do on a three hour flight. 😋)
Ugh, this turned out so domestic and sweet that I'm getting a toothache.
❤️🥞🫐❤️🥞🫐❤️🥞🫐❤️🥞🫐❤️🥞🫐❤️🥞🫐❤️🥞🫐
Eddie has never been in a relationship where he got to celebrate anniversaries before. Hell, he’s never been in a relationship before, full-stop, let alone a long term one.
Steve has, but he always points out that it wasn’t exactly a successful one—whatever was between him and Nancy to start with had started its emergency descent the night Barb died, or maybe the afternoon he’d stood back and let Tommy H. spray paint slut on a movie theater marquee. Either way, he’d missed the memo and never assumed a crash position, and that had been one hell of a thump on the head.
And Eddie knows this. He knows that bullshit eroded a lot of Steve’s confidence in keeping someone interested long term, not helped by the way his parents seem to have forgotten they have a son and a home in Hawkins. He and Steve have talked about it, just like he’s admitted his worries that he’s only ever a temporary attraction, a warm willing hand or mouth, or a hard dick, good only for back alley or bar bathroom lust. He’s had some grimy one night stands that never moved on from standing and lasted less than ten minutes, and on some level he’d likened that to his mom dying (leaving him) when he was still little and his dad’s short attention span for anything that wasn’t shiny and easy to pawn.
They’re both damaged goods, is the thing; they even have enough scars to prove it to any casual observer at a quick glance. And everyone has always taken one look at Eddie Munson and thought they knew exactly what he was: poor, abandoned, trailer trash, nerd, metalhead, super senior, cult leader, trouble.
But he wakes up and rolls over, stretching and yawning, to find a note on Steve’s side of their shaded bed, right on the pillow that still smells of expensive shampoo, and it reads, Happy 6 month Anniverasry Eds!
It makes Eddie feel warm all over, spelling error and all. So loved, that Steve never lets his runaway imagination get the mistaken idea that his boyfriend is gone gone.
He continues stretching, going lazily through the morning routine that will help keep his right leg from cramping up the way it’s prone to doing now. Luxuriates in rolling around without restriction, arching his back up from the mattress and letting out a little moan as his spine pops a little, because it feels satisfying. An outward (inward?) echo of how his life has fallen into place since the Upside Down. First a free man, then a high school graduate, an honest to god boyfriend, and now gainfully employed at a record shop. It’s not glamorous, but he doesn’t need glamor anymore. Rock star life doesn’t hold the same appeal now that he’s been in the worst kind of spotlight, and as a taken man the only other appeal would be the freer access to hard drugs, which… pass. He’s retired his old metal lunch box, except to house his personal weed stash.
Speaking of, he sits up and looks around for it only to find a joint already rolled and waiting for him on the nightstand. He recognizes Steve’s handiwork with a smile, and takes it up along with the lighter waiting beside it to hit the green.
It’s gonna be a good day.
He feels nice and loose by the time he leaves the bedroom, barefoot and clad in boxers and a faded crop top that’s seen better days. His stomach rumbles and he gives it an absent pat, scratching idly beneath where it curves out more and more these days as he shuffles down the hall to the kitchen where he can already hear Steve singing a Tears for Fears song.
“—Don’t take my heart don’t break my heart don’t, don’t, don’t da da da da…”
Eddie takes a seat on one of the tall chairs along the outer counter that separates the kitchen proper from their second hand breakfast table. He knows that Steve notices the scrape of it against the linoleum because he perks up, not turning yet because he’s alternating between flipping fried eggs and pancakes in different pans on the stove, reaching over them to give the third pan of bacon on one of the back burners a shake to make sure it isn’t sticking. The fourth burner is occupied by a lidded pot with steam leaking faintly around the edges, likely some sort of berry topping for the pancakes, because Eddie likes to drown his in more than just syrup and melted butter.
And, frankly, Steve likes to spoil him. It shows in the way Eddie’s arm spreads a little where it rests on top of the open counter shelf and pushes his softened pec up to a rounded curve at the stretched collar of his top, and the way his belly plops onto the countertop below when he leans forward. His thick thighs have sent the legs of his boxers riding up again, pushed to kiss the waistband where it’s been rolled in the opposite direction by the weight of his midsection. He knows that his ass is spreading on the vinyl seat and will make a noise whenever he stands up, and that he’s developed some serious love handles and back rolls. Who the fuck cares about that, though, when his man is cooking him a mouthwatering spread for breakfast and humming a dumb pop song about being head over fucking heels? Eddie props his other arm on the shelf and his cheek on one hand, swinging his legs contentedly and enjoying the way it makes parts of him wobble with the motion.
“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” Steve calls over his shoulder, and Eddie chuckles indulgently at how dorky it is, keeps kicking his feet.
“A feast, by the looks of it, Stevie,” he teases. “Did you invite anyone else to our special anniversary breakfast without telling me?”
“I didn’t even invite you, nerd,” comes the retort. “You were supposed to still be in bed so I could bring it to you and feed you there.”
Eddie smirks. “What can I say, baby. I got hungry. Got the little gift you wrapped for me, though… smoked it all up, hope you didn’t want any.”
“That’s alright,” Steve says, and flips a perfectly golden pancake onto an already stacked plate with a grace born of practice. “I knew you wouldn’t leave leftovers.”
“Damn right,” Eddie murmurs, ogling both the food and Steve’s perfect pert ass in white briefs. It’s nothing compared to his own these days, but he’s quite partial to it. Could make a feast of it in fact, and has. But that’s not what this morning is about.
Steve must feel his gaze, because he wiggles his hips enticingly before sliding the eggs out onto another plate, piling the bacon on next to and a little on top of them. A third plate has a stack of pre-buttered toast, and Eddie licks his lips at all of the above as Steve takes the lid off the pot and ladles a thick, sticky substance over both toast and pancakes—smells like blueberries today. Of course it is; blueberries are Eddie’s favorite.
His empty belly gives an anticipatory rumble.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie says, licking his lips. “You remember our first night together?”
And oh, what a night that had been. Back when Eddie had still been thin as a rail, thinner than usual after his near death experience and still fresh off a hospital discharge. All pent up from a long stretch of heated fantasies about what Steve sticking by his bedside almost constantly could mean. So of course Steve had been the one to drive him home, since Wayne had run out of time off from the plant. Of course Steve had stayed to keep him company, and Eddie had suggested they smoke up because he had to do something to keep from getting all in his own head about it, and Steve had agreed and then kept watching him with those eyes. Fuck, a guy could drown in those things, and Eddie had, and then Steve had kissed him and whispered wonderful things. And Eddie had thought, Okay, at least I get to live the dream for a bit, then life’ll go back to normal once I fall asleep and he takes off.
“Yeah,” Steve says now, turning off the burners and turning to face Eddie with a tender look on his face. The same one Eddie had first seen upon waking six months earlier to find he’d been wrong, that Steve hadn’t left after all.
Eddie favors him with a slow smile. “Remember the next morning, when you told me that food was your love-language?”
“Yeah, I remember.” A hint of red warms Steve’s cheeks, and he starts picking up the plates. There are only three this time, but he can stack two on each arm when he needs to, Eddie’s seen him do it. His man is so capable, it’s really such a fucking turn-on. “Why?”
Smile turned up to full-on dimples now, Eddie leans forward just a little bit more. Puts the full heft of himself even more on display because he knows Steve loves it, loves how soft and insatiable he’s become, outsides matching how he’s always felt about Hawkins’ golden boy on the inside. “Because, baby… I feel very loved right now.”
Steve’s laugh is delighted, giddy, perfect. He shoos Eddie down the hall back to the bedroom of their new apartment, following with the food that means I love Eddie Munson even though neither of them has officially said it yet. They’re still both a bit broken, a bit fragile, but healing.
It’s the first major relationship milestone Eddie has ever gotten to celebrate, and it’s sweeter than syrup mixed with homemade blueberry compote.
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This isn’t anything important but imagine little!Nancy having a hard time sleeping and Robin’s pacing around the room with her. Robin’s overwhelmed because Nancy’s been crying for a long time and she isn’t sure what to do. Eventually she sits down and starts to sing a lullaby. Hearing Robin sing catches Nancys attention and she stops crying. After this little!Nancy demands Robin sings to her randomly. This was def not inspired by Maya Hawke’s singing voice. It’s like a lullaby itself. :)
WHAT DO U MEAAAAN "this isn't anything important", THIS IS SO IMPORTANT!!!
after this particular night nancy now needs a lullaby from robin in order to go to sleep. it literally doesn't even have to be a long one — or a proper lullaby song; it could be some kind of song they hear on the radio — but she now needs robin's singing to go off to sleep. rob accidentally conditioned her asksjdjajd
okok i raise you THIS: steve is watching nancy for the night for whatever reason — maybe robin is on an emergency night shift bc the person who usually has it is out sick or smth — & she starts bawling her eyes out bc she had a nightmare & needs a robin lullaby to go back to sleep :((
steve is pacing the house with her on his hip, trying his best to soothe her — "it's okay, nancy, it's alright baby; you're safe here, he's not gonna get you ever again, he's gone now, buttercup. i promise." — but anything he says p much go in one ear and out the other
he tries giving her a stuffie! ... for her to throw to the side
he pops a pacifier in her mouth! ... for her to spit right back out
he fixes her a warm bottle of her favorite milk! ... for her to refuse & push away
eventually he has to call robin, so he balances a still-sobbing nancy on one hip & furiously dials with his free hand. the phone rings once ... twice...
"thhhhis is family video, how may–"
"i'm not here for movies robin i'm here because of a baby fresh out of having a nightmare!!!"
and then robin hears crying on the other side of the line & her heart simply shatters in two. "put her on, i've got her."
steve feels kinda bad bc he's supposed to be watching her for the night so robin could properly work for a few extra hours, but he shifts nancy on his other hip, closer to the phone. "hey baby, robin's on the phone!"
LITERALLY just hearing her name quiets her down a little bit & she's reaching for the phone with saddened grabby hands. steve helps her by holding the phone up to her ear, swaying her some & hoping that's helping, too
"hey, fancy nancy! you're not feeling too good, hm?"
nancy rlly can barely manage words, so she just mumbles jumbled up words .. but robin gets it & starts singing. right there in family video, not caring if people give her weird or questioning stares bc this is about nancy right now! everybody else doesn't matter when her baby is crying bc of a mean ole nightmare >:(
within like 7 minutes nancy's stopped crying & she's so tuckered out — had steve not been holding the phone it would've fallen out her hand — & she leans her head on steve's shoulder, blinks getting longer and longer
" 'ank ou ro-ro .. lob ou.."
"i love you, too, sweetheart. night night."
and right before robin ends the call, steve gently takes the phone from nance & hops in — "thank you ... but we're definitely talking about when you learned to sing in the morning."
he doesn't see it but he knows she rolled her eyes behind the line; it's like he can hear it. "you're welcome, steve. i'll be waiting."
the call ends. steve smiles down at nancy, on the cusp of sleep in his arms — head on his shoulder, arms loose around his neck, eyes lidded and almost completely shut — & gets the abandoned bottle of milk left in the kitchen
nancy falls asleep halfway through thro the bottle, settled on steve's lap on the couch, so he moves to her bedroom to tuck her in. he turns to leave, but ... he stops. he can't just leave her, not after that nightmare
he ends up falling asleep with her curled against him, keeping her safe from any more nightmares (*´˘`*)♡
#i woke up in a creative mood AKDJKDDKD#🍓．berry n friends <3#stranger things agere#fandom agere#sfw agere#agere asks#agere concept
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𝙜𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙗𝙤𝙮 ; 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗿𝗼𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀
summary┃you’ve always called steve the golden boy, but he snaps one night and decides to show you he’s anything but.
pairing┃roommate!steve x f!reader
word count┃2,382 words
warnings┃hangover, drinking, tipsy sex, pining, teasing, makeout session, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, steve doesn’t think he’ll fit but he makes it, use of toys (vibrator), mocking, edging, hair pulling kink, fingering, oral, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, steve finishes on readers back, steve is lowkey a fuckboy — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI
notes┃presidential alert 🚨 the girls, gays, and the they’s are horny
The shower was already running when you had walked out of your room and into the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea.
It was Saturday morning and despite your best efforts, your body never let you sleep in last nine in the morning.
You may as well start your day at 8:48 am.
Steve had gone out last night, but you remember the door shutting at three in the morning and a faint shhh falling from his lips as he spoke to whatever inanimate object was making noise.
In your sleepy daze, you didn’t really mind. Instead, turning your pillow onto the cool side and drifting back to sleep.
The kettle was boiling and the bread was getting warmed in the toaster when the shower finally stopped running.
It was a little unusual for Steve to shower for so long, even after his morning runs or workouts, he’d never need more than 10 minutes.
When the door opened, and a groaning Steve emerged, you knew exactly what the problem was.
“Mornin’, Golden Boy,” he didn’t even have the energy to grimace at the sound of his nickname.
His bare feel pattered against the wooden floor until he dropped his large body in one of the bar stools.
“Someone had a fun night.” You mumbled with a small smirk as you slid him a cup of coffee which is took between his fingers.
“I don’t know how Sam and Bucky roped me into shots,” he said into the cup of coffee as he took a cautious sip.
You just rolled your eyes playfully and plated the toast that had popped out a few seconds earlier, slabbing a large helping of butter before adding honey and sliding the plate over to him.
“Eat.”
He groaned again, but put the coffee down in place for the sweet honey toast.
“I can’t drink like I used to, I think I’m dying,” he was being dramatic, a playful glimmer in his eyes as he took a bite and hummed.
“You’re 27, Rogers. I think someone’s being a little dramatic,” you teased with a smile.
You are your breakfasts in silence for the most part, the painkiller Steve had taken not yet kicking in until both of your plates were cleared.
“Did you get lucky last night?” You asked with raised eyebrows as you both placed your plates in the sink.
Steve just laughed, “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
You had to admit that your heart dropped, the same twinge of jealously starting to bloom in your chest as you imagined him with someone else.
“Proud of you, Golden Boy.” You fake cheered, biting your tongue and swallowing your pride.
Above everything, Steve was your friend and he deserved to get laid.
He laughed, “you should’ve come, Bucky couldn’t stop asking about you.”
You rolled your eyes again, slightly in annoyance.
“He knows I’ll never sleep with him,” you sang song, helping Steve dry the dishes as the sink stopped running.
“You never told me why, you know that?” You scoffed, “and for good reason.”
The reason was simple; you didn’t want Bucky, but instead his best friend and your roommate, Steve.
“I’ll get it out of ya one day, sweetheart.” Steve chuckled and you felt your heart sink a little further, “whatever helps you sleep at night.”
The rest of the day was uneventful, nothing to do on a rainy New York day other than read as Steve fiddled with his sketchbook while an old sitcom played on the television.
Steve’s hangover either disappeared or he was great at hiding it, whatever it was, he was humming along to the show tune.
“Pizza and beers for dinner?” Steve asked as he was putting the final touches on his sketch making you laugh.
“What happened to I can’t drink like I used to?” You said, echoing his words from the morning as he shrugged.
“It’s a lazy day essential, now what toppings, and don’t say pineapple.” You acted shocked, mouth twitching into a smile.
“You don’t know anything about good pizza,” you huffed as he tore his eye away from his sketchbook to look at you.
“Pineapple on pizza is a crime, sweetheart. Now if that’s who you are I can’t judge, but I’m jus’ sayin’,” he said raising his hands in mock defeat.
“Whatever Golden Boy, just say you’re a vanilla type of guy,” you winked, standing up to put your book on the shelf as the sun began setting to cast yellow and orange hues over the apartment.
Steve snickered, “whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart.”
The low timbre of his voice, your own words echoed from this morning sends a shudder down your spine as he grabs his phone.
“The usual?” You manage to nod your head, smiling as you try to distract yourself from the sudden and very evident ache between your thighs.
30 minutes later and the pizza was here, still hot and greasy as Steve set it on the wooden coffee table as you grabbed two beers, scratch that, four beers.
“Cheers, Golden Boy,” you offered with a soft smile as you both clinked your bottle necks against each other before pizza was being devoured.
You didn’t know what it was, but cheap greasy pizza and a cold beer always soothed the soul. No matter how heartbroken you had ever been, or upset at the universe, beer and pizza were always there for you.
As the hours went by, the bottles emptied and the pizza slices disappeared before you and Steve were sat on the couch laughing and giggling at the time Steve locked himself out in nothing but his underwear.
“And where were you to rescue me!” He bellowed, throwing his head back at the memory.
“I was in the shower, you know I blare music. I’m sorry Stevie, I promise the next time you’re locked out and naked I’ll rescue you.”
He shook his head, “well I wasn’t naked.”
You felt a little dizzy, body lighter as you finished off the second beer. You weren’t drunk, but loose enough to rest your head against Steve’s shoulder.
His phone buzzed then, grabbing it off the table as Bucky’s name lit up across the screen.
Steve ignored it.
“He’s jus’ gonna ask me to go out again,” he said before you could ask, seemingly reading your mind.
“Plus, I’m perfectly content right here,” he smiled, finishing off his second beer as you playfully rolled your eyes.
“You’re such a sap,” you teased, “that a bad thing?” He asked and you felt the air around you grow more tense.
“‘Course not, you’re just Stevie,” you tried to explain as he furrowed his eyebrows.
“Stevie?” He asked as you sat up and crossed your legs under your body.
“Yeah, you know,” you tried to find the words, “Golden Boy.”
He hums in response, “golden as in pure?”
You nod your head, “pure, sweet, innocent.”
You weren’t sure if you had struck a nerve, but Steve smirked as he leaned into you.
“‘M not so innocent, sweetheart. Not everything is as it seems.” His voice was much lower, raspier as you could smell the beer on his breath.
“Is that so?” Your voice was just a little above a whisper, heart racing in your chest.
“I could even show you, sweetheart, but you gotta answer one question first. Sound fair?” He asked.
You nodded your head slowly, eagerly awaiting his question.
His hands fell to your knees, sliding up until he pulled you into his lap.
You looked up at him, craning your head only slightly as he craned his at you. He was warm, and broad.
“Why,” his voice was low, “won’t you hookup with Bucky, sweetheart?”
Your breath hitched, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you ran your hands up his chest until they rested on his shoulders.
“I think you know,” you whispered as he shook his head and chuckled.
“Uh uh, I wanna hear you say it.” He purred, brushing his nose against yours.
Your eyes fluttered shut as you smelt his oaky, but sweet body wash. Something like bergamot and oranges.
He squeezed your hips, a soft moan falling from your lips at the sensation.
“It’s because,” you swallowed thickly, “because I want you, Stevie.”
He hummed, hand on the back of your head as he pressed his lips to yours.
You kissed back, the realization hitting you it became hotter and more desperate as you slid your tongue past Steve’s lips.
“All you needed to do was say those words and you could’ve had me all to yourself.” He smirks against your lips making you whimper.
His fingers are digging into your ass, rocking your hips over his. It’s the right amount of friction to have you melting into his touch.
When he picks you up, carrying you into his room to toss you onto his bed, you know you’ve made the wrong assumption about him.
“Now there’s nothin’ wrong with a man who likes vanilla,” he hums, hands exploring your body.
“But I’m a man who prefers a little more,” he meets your eyes, a devilish smirk and twinkle in his eyes, “flavour.”
He’s hovering over you, lips on your neck and jaw as his hips rut over yours.
“Go get that goddamn vibrator of yours,” he breathes as you look at him bewildered.
“You know that one, you like the third setting the most on it.” He winks standing up as your eyes trace along his body and to where his cock is straining.
“Go on, don’t sit there actin’ all dumb,” you spring to your feet, tripping over them as you quickly fetch it from your room.
“Good girl, lie back down on the bed, but get naked first.” He instructs you sternly.
You’d never had anyone tell you to strip, let alone have someone eyes so focused on you as you place the vibrator in his larger hand.
Starting with your sweater, you tear it off—chest exposed as Steve licks his lips.
“Go on, don’t be shy. You’re makin’ him real happy,” he smirks, squeezing his dick through his pants.
You tug your leggings down until you’re in your panties and Steve is giving you a look that tells you to continue.
It’s a thrill, stripping for him and watching his cock twitch at the sight of your curves, dips, and the marks you hate.
“Look at you,” he groans, “perfect little thing aren’t ya? Now I gotta be honest,” you swallow thickly.
“‘M not sure if he’ll fit like I planned, but we’ll make sure to get you warmed up,” he says before placing your hand over his dick.
It causes goosebumps to prickle your skin as he pushes you down onto the bed fully naked now.
“Now this,” he says, holding your vibrator, “isn’t even gonna compare to me by the time I’m done with you.”
It’s a promise that you know Steve will keep as he kneels between your legs.
“I expect you to keep these open, okay? Unless of course,” his cocky attitude breaks through, “you’re squeezin’ my head when you cum.”
You can’t even chide back, all thoughts gone at the sound of the click of your vibrator.
Steve wastes no time, spreading your folds and exploring you with his tongue before he connects the silicone tip to your clit.
It causes your body to jolt and Steve has to keep your legs open.
“What did I say, sweetheart. Keep ‘em open,” he reminds you as he slips a single fingers in you.
It’s already ten times better than your own, longer and thicker as they curl against your sweet spot.
Your walls squeeze him, fluttering as you grip onto his unmade bed sheets.
He teased you, edging you until you’re begging him to let you come with a dry throat.
“Steve, c’mon. ‘S’not fair,” you whine, tugging at his hair. He groans, hips rutting into the bed and you know you’ve found his weakness.
Two can play at this game.
You tug at his hair again, “please, Stevie? Wanna cum so fuckin’ bad—all over your face.”
He groans vibrator tossed on the bed as his mouth wraps around your clit, “fuck, baby.”
It’s a lewd sound, your wetness against his fingers and mouth, but it’s enough to send you over the edge.
“Make a mess, sweetheart. Gotta taste ya,” he groans against your core as you’re nearly suffocating him.
It’s intense, washing over you like a wave followed by a series of smaller ones until he’s flipping you over and your ass is in the air.
“Not so fuckin’ vanilla anymore, huh?” He slaps your ass, a squeak leaving your lips.
“Gonna have the taste of you on my mind for days now, practically have me pussy whipped already.”
His clothes are gone, all necessary ones before he’s bending his body over yours, “grip onto the headboard baby, you’ll need all the support you can get.”
And he’s not wrong, sliding into you and stretching you out as you wrap yourself fingers around the wood until he’s fully seated inside of you.
It’s a new fullness, one that you’ve never experienced and something you never want to forget.
“Bounce, baby.” He then says, as you look over your shoulder.
“Ride me, use the headboard and make yourself cum.” He smirks, slick coating both of your thighs.
Everything is new to you as Steve lets you take control, yet, you’re never truly in control.
“That’s it baby, such a good girl. Look how desperate you are to cum,” he taunts making you whimper.
He joins in soon, meeting your thrusts with his own until you’re both grunting and he can’t hold back.
“Fuck, fuck, gonna cum.” He hissed, quickly pulling out to paint your back as he rubs your clit with his free hand and you feel the white hot explosion of pleasure for the second time that night.
You’ve both made a mess by the time you’re done, Steve cleaning you up with his boxers as you’re collapsing beside him still trying to catch your breath.
“You’ve ruined my vibrator for me,” you chuckled breathlessly as he turns to you with a smirk, “well it’s a good thing I’m your roommate then.”
#steve rogers smut#steve rogers x reader smut#steve rogers x reader#bucksfucks writes — [♡] ;#steve rogers headcanons#steve rogers headcanon#steve rogers oneshots#steve rogers one shots#steve rogers oneshot#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers fic#steve rogers blurb#steve rogers drabble
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you are in love, true love | b.b.
alternatively titled - bucky barnes falling in love with his best friend.
pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader
word count: 1.4k
summary: bucky never imagined he would find the love of his life in his roommate.
warnings: roommates!au, unedited writings, heavy dialogue, she/her pronouns, mentions of food, a possibly ooc bucky, slightly obscure pop culture and music references (iykyk)
author’s note: the combination of my listening to 1989 in hopes of its re-recording and the need to write something other than angst resulted in this little series of blurbs. I haven’t written for Bucky in a while, so hopefully this is all still in character ? anyways. this fic is actually really personal — it references my favourite movies, the songs I listen to, things I would actually say in real life. please keep that in mind before you share your thoughts in the comments and reblogs <3
Your hands fiddle with the top button of your coat, twisting it back and forth. Was it too much?
You turn side to side, staring into your too-small mirror. The white blouse and black dress pants caressed your figure perfectly, and those black heels didn’t pinch your toes. A well-chosen, respectable, elegant outfit for a job interview. You just couldn’t make up your mind on that damn blue coat.
“Buck?” You call out, and a moment later he’s opened the door of your bedroom. “Do you like the coat?”
He hummed, eyes darting from the coat to the mirror, and back again. “That depends. You going for a Paddington bear look?”
“Buck,” you hiss, turning around to swat his arm. His laugh is loud as he steps aside, dodging your attack. Even with your stress, you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face at his laugh.
“Sorry, sorry! What about Rick Blaine?” Bucky arches his eyebrows with a grin, and you laugh at the reference.
“Interesting references. Do I have Sam to thank?”
“Hey, someone had to show me the classics.”
Your laugh fades as you stare down at the coat again. “So, no coat?”
“No coat,” Bucky takes your hands in his, flesh hand warm, metal fingers cool. “You look stunning.”
. . .
The hour of midnight is quiet, the road almost completely deserted, headlights lighting up the dark. Your head rests against your propped arm, staring at Bucky’s hand as it shifts the gears. Adele’s cover of ‘Make You Feel My Love’ plays from your Bluetooth, as he drives you home.
“I’m happy for them,” you murmur in the dark. Steve and Nat’s housewarming was a small affair, but the excitement left you drained. Their apartment was slightly larger than yours, with space in the living room for Steve’s drawings and close proximity to a gym.
Bucky turns his gaze from the road to your exhausted figure, nodding in agreement. “Me too.”
The comfortable silence is broken a few minutes later, when he murmurs, “Look up.”
Your hand brushes his grip on the gear stick as you shift, eyes focused on the road.
Instead of turning right into one of the many streets leading to your apartment, Bucky continues down the freeway. You open your mouth in confusion, with understanding taking its place as the golden arches of McDonald’s come into view.
“Figured you might want some hash browns, maybe a coffee?” His voice is tentative, and you wonder why he remembered such an insignificant detail about your midnight cravings.
If you weren’t careful, you just might fall in love with this man. Your reply is soft, almost lost to the night as Little Mix’s ‘Change Your Life’ starts. “I’d like that.”
. . .
The knock to your bedroom door is soft, but it reverberates through your already-throbbing head.
You groan, “Go away, Buck,” and turn onto your other side in the hope of falling back to sleep. But your thin curtains don’t keep out the morning light, the lump in the mattress presses into your ribs, and the door opens anyway.
“Made you breakfast.” Bucky’s voice is rough, indicating he himself didn’t wake up too long ago.
The harsh smell of burnt toast offset by sweet coffee floods your senses, forcing you to sit up and acknowledge his presence. “You call burnt toast breakfast?”
“That toaster is going to be the death of me… that is, not if you kill me first.”
Your glare softens as you reconsider — he made you breakfast. In bed. Unprompted. The least you can do is try to choke down the meal. Bucky wrote a smiley face with the butter, and the coffee’s in your favourite mug. Being sick had its perks.
“My ma would make us a special breakfast when we were sick, and I just thought it would be nice.” Bucky’s eyes won’t meet yours, and your heart softens with the mention of his family.
“It is nice.” You push up the sleeves of his shirt you’d been using as pyjamas, and take a sip of the coffee. “Thank you.”
. . .
“Doll, what are you doing?”
You look up from hanging the bed sheet over a stack of chairs, accidentally loosening your grip on the corner and dropping the damn thing on the floor. “Trying to build a pillow fort, which would be a lot easier if you hadn’t just made me drop that sheet.”
“Ah. What movie?” Bucky nods in understanding, mind already trying to calculate what memory resurfaced for you to have deemed tonight a pillow fort night. He drinks in the sight of you, desperate for details in more ways than one — hair tied back, pyjamas, with the fluffiest socks you own pulled over your feet.
It’s this you, right here, the you that’s reserved just for him. The you who sings in the shower and writes reports at 3 am and steals the last cup of coffee. This was the first side of you he fell in love with, the rest falling into place like dominos. His unfiltered, bright-eyed, messy-haired best friend who builds pillow forts when she misses her family.
The sheet falls into place, and you step down to admire your handiwork. “Do you need to ask?”
Bucky unravels the fairy lights from their place on the kitchen table, giving you a soft smile. “Tangled it is.”
*
“I think you’re my best friend,” Bucky blurts out in the third run of Tangled, lips loose from exhaustion and brain slightly fuzzy from the Asgardian wine.
Your giggles end with an abrupt, “What?”
“Well, yeah, I mean… Steve and I… he’s my brother. And Sam is Sam, and Becca was Becca, and… I don’t know. Every time I turn around, you’re there, watching my six.” He sighs, turning onto his side to face you. “And besides, isn’t the job description of a best friend forcing the other to watch their favourite movie on repeat?”
You flick his nose, but he catches your fingers with his own, pressing a kiss to your fingertips. His mouth is soft, barely brushing your skin, but your body betrays you, shivering despite the warm air.
With fairy lights twinkling above you, stomach full from one too many glasses of wine and Bucky’s hand in yours, you fall asleep to ‘I See the Light’.
. . .
The kitchen light is low, but you don’t need a spotlight to dance. You’re exhausted and a little tipsy, and frankly not exactly sure how you got here. All you know is Bucky’s arms feel like home, and you’re so damn grateful you answered his ad for a roommate.
He’s humming a simple melody, so faint your ears can barely catch it and your brain can comprehend it, but you don’t need music to dance. His voice is low, deep, smoothing the rough edges of his monotone, rising and falling as his tune builds. With a lift of his hand, Bucky guides you in a gentle twirl, before you fall back into his arms.
You tuck your head beneath his chin, against his chest, and feel the huff of his breath against your hair. Softly swaying back and forth, back and forth. You could stay in his embrace forever. Bucky presses a kiss to the top of your head as his humming fades, until the two of you are silently swaying in the dark.
. . .
The fluorescent lights in the grocery store are harsh against his eyes, yellow sale labels too bright, and he can hear your teasing voice. “This is why I do the shopping, Barnes. Can’t trust you to find the plums from the pears.”
He finds the plums easily enough, thank you very much, and places them into the plastic bag with care. Two cartons of milk, a packet of spaghetti and a carton of your favourite cookie dough ice cream later, Bucky’s order is being checked out by a worker.
Bucky pulls out his wallet with his flesh hand, grabbing out a 20-dollar bill to pay for his items. Before he closes the leather, his eyes catch on the picture of you he’d kept. Your eyes are closed, head thrown back in a laugh, his metal arm holding you up.
“Got yourself a girl there, hey?” The worker jokes, and Bucky smiles as he slides the wallet back into his pocket.
“My best friend, actually.”
“Guess she’s lucky to have you.” Barry, the name tag reads, hands him his items and receipt.
The smile doesn’t leave his lips as Bucky answers, “I’m lucky to have found her.”
. . .
You can hear it in the silence
You can feel it on the way home
You can see it with the lights out
You are in love, true love
You are in love
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#steve rogers#sam wilson#tfatws#the falcon and the winter soldier#tfatws blurb#bucky barnes blurb#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky x reader#bucky x reader fluff#bucky barnes imagine#steve rogers x natasha romanoff#roommates au#sebastian stan#sebastian stan x reader
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cardigan
natasha romanoff x f!reader
word count: 8.9k (haha)
warnings: swearing, cheating!natasha, sad!reader, uhm this is angsty for me, asshole!natasha, sort of asshole!team, more angst, sort of happy ending sort of, secrets™️
this is inspired by taylor swift’s cardigan. folklore and evermore are really getting me through this i swear
obviously i do not own this song, picture, or any of the warped lyrics that i attempted to slide in as creatively possible :) this is also my first one shot and my first reader insert ever- i tried to not go into any physical details about miss y/n but i hope y’all like it!
No editor. All mistakes are 100% mine!
You couldn’t have been any more excited to see Natasha. She had been gone for what felt like forever on a mission with Steve, Bucky, and some agent that was on her first big mission, a girl that you recalled to be named Abigail. Regardless of what her name was, they were all heading home today after so long, nearly two months.
There was no telling how much you were ready for the return of your fiancée. The two of you had promised to get married nine months ago, and you were already deep into planning. You were going to your dress appointment at Kleinfeld’s (your literal childhood wish) in two days. You had the venue picked, the table accessories done, the seating chart already filled out and sitting pretty in laminated sheets in a binder. The day was going to be perfect, and it was what you and Natasha deserved after so long. Especially Natasha, after every single thing that she had been through just to save the world and to help those who weren’t able to help themselves.
Natasha was your angel.
Your heart was racing in your chest as you waited for the quinjet to land, the ring feeling light on your left finger as you rolled back and forth on your feet. You couldn’t hold back a toothy grin as you waited for them to fly back in, and to hug Natasha again. That was the most important part. To have her back in your arms so that you could do things like stay in together for the weekend and stay holed up in their room just doing innocent things, like counting each other’s heartbeats.
You stood with your hands clasped in front of your body as they landed, a dopey grin on your face and the same nervous glint in your eye that was there every time that you waited for your fiancée to come back home. You knew that Natasha would always find her way back to you, but there was no telling what condition she would be in.
The moment the doors opened, Abigail ran through them, and down the ramps nearly knocking you over. You reached your arms out to steady the other girl, who looked like she was about to burst into tears at any second. As much as you wanted to just hug Natasha and go home after you ate and sleep in bed with her, you couldn’t leave a girl in tears like that without checking on her. “Woah, are you okay, sweetie?”
The girl’s bottom lip jutted out, like she was about to cry just because of you asking the question. She didn’t say anything, but she was obviously falling apart from the inside, and it made you more than mildly concerned. You didn’t like to see anyone cry, let alone a girl who had just come back from her first big mission. “I’m fine.” Her voice cracked.
“Are you sure?” You were no medic or super soldier or even assassin-spy, but you were nothing if not rational and sympathetic. You were so in tune to the poor girl that you didn’t feel the palpable awkwardness of everyone else who walked off of the quinjet, almost all of them cringing. “Do you need to talk to someone?”
“I- I’m sorry,” Abigail said, and she was running away from you faster than you had ever seen anyone run before.
You frowned as you watched her run. “I hope she’s alright, poor thing. I can’t imagine how a first mission feels,” you murmured, turning around and seeing the slightly spooked eyes of the rest of the team. You smiled at them cautiously and walked over to Natasha, arms already raised as you went to embrace her tightly. You breathed in and put your face in her neck, nearly crying tears of joy as you smelled her shampoo, a rich scent that meant the safety and comfort of them both. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”
You were so happy to hold your fiancée again that you almost didn’t notice how standoffish she was being, and her lack of enthusiasm. She had never been not enthusiastic to see you, especially after going so long without seeing each other. After too long of her not reacting to your warm embrace by kissing your hair or murmuring her usual missed you, princessa, you pulled away and looked at her, a questioning look on your face. “Are you okay, my love?”
Natasha stepped back, not looking you in the eyes and choosing to just smooth out the sleeves of her combat attire, eyes on the floor. That was very unlike her. Something must have gone terribly wrong. “I just want to get home.”
Your vibe visibly deteriorated. It was obvious that Natasha had just popped your bubble and left it as an empty shell, but you were still smiling anyway. Like you always did. “Okay, Nat. We can do that.” You reached out for Natasha’s hand and grabbed it after waving goodbye to the other team members, who all looked either extremely displeased or like they had been caught doing something very awkward.
You walked back to your part of the tower together in silence that wasn’t characteristic of the two of you. You were a known chatterbox, happy and always starting meaningful conversations, but also one of the best listeners to ever grace the earth. Natasha liked to listen, too, and she had the best words and the best voice to listen to. One of them was always talking. The silence between them was almost haunting.
Natasha went straight into the shower. She didn’t offer for you to go in with her, which was what the two of you always did after a mission. You got to see Natasha at her most vulnerable, and Natasha was finally allowed to let down the shroud of strength that only lasted for so long without being damaging. It was the thing that kept you close and often the action that got Natasha to open up about what happened and how she truly felt. Natasha skipping out on that time hurt you and made you expect the worst.
She turned the lights off the minute that she was out of the shower, not speaking to you or even offering any physical assurance, which was something that Natasha knew that you needed after she came home.
You just prayed that she would be ready to talk in the morning.
§§§
Natasha wasn’t there when you woke up. You frowned and patted the empty spot in the bed beside you even though you knew that she was probably at the gym or running around doing errands. You sighed and crawled out of bed, doing the daily routine that you usually did with Natasha, and leaving the room to go make some breakfast.
There were whispers that hissed like snakes when you came around the corner, and they came to a screeching halt when you bounced into the room. You grinned at everyone sitting or standing in the kitchen, ignoring their deer-in-headlights looks and searching for the woman you were set to get married to. You frowned a bit when there was no sign of her.
“Good morning!” You hummed out anyways, going towards the pantry once you saw that no one had made food yet. Because you were staying there and you had no other skills, you had been the one to take up personal chef for the entire team just to pull some weight, even though they insisted that you didn’t need to do a thing. As long as you “kept Nat happy”, they said.
It took a second for any of them to respond. “Good morning,” Steve said, his voice oddly clinical for the way he usual greeted you. He was the morning person of the bunch, and probably your closest friend other than Wanda.
You took the supplies out of the pantry with a thoughtful look on your face. “I’m not trying to pry,” you started softly, back still towards them as you started with the pancake mix. “But, was the mission bad?” No one spoke for a few heavy moments.
“We succeeded,” Bucky finally stated vaguely, his voice floating through the room.
You never the type to spill all of your personal business to people, but these people weren’t just anyone. These were your closest friends, the people who were going to be in the wedding, either in one bridal party or the other’s. “Nat’s not talking to me,” you sighed out, and turned around to see all of them stiff as boards. “Was it hard for her?”
No one said anything.
You pursed your lips and turned your back to them again, looking away from them to gathered your thoughts for a second. You took in a deep breath and told yourself not to pry, not to think about what Natasha would surely tell you when she was ready. You turned your head and gave them your trademark grin. “Who wants blueberries in their pancakes?”
§§§
You sat in your shared room after a full day of Natasha blatantly ignoring and avoiding you. You were patient, because that was what you had to be to date an Avenger, but Natasha had never straight up ignored you before. You learned very quickly that it called for a different type of patience than the one you were used to.
In the kitchen when she was forced to be present after you cooked a huge welcome home meal, she didn’t hug on you or kiss your cheek or even look you in the eyes. It wasn’t like her. You came to the tough conclusion that it wasn’t because of the mission, because she had never done that before, not even after the one where the children were caught in the crossfire. You were always the one that she talked to, no matter what.
The lamp light was the only light on in the room, because you knew that Natasha liked it better that way. Maybe less light would make her open up a bit, and the two of you would finally see eye to eye after the annoying stalemate that felt eternal.
You didn’t know how long Natasha would take come back and speak, but you knew that it wouldn’t be too long. Natasha liked to talk, and she had said multiple times that she liked to talk to you the most. It would be any time, right? That’s what you thought until the hours crept by, and you saw and heard no sign of anything. Not even the ding of an elevator or the shutting of a door, or her soft footsteps that she made on purpose because her natural steps were so quiet that she scared you when she appeared.
When Natasha finally came in, it was late in the night, morning time. Three in the morning, to be exact. You shook off your nerves and smiled at her, and the smile wasn’t returned as much as it should have been. “Hi,” you said, almost a little star struck by finally seeing her. It brought you back to the time you didn’t truly know her.
You had always admired Natasha. Not even because of her being Black Widow, but because she was Natasha Romanoff, an enemy spy and assassin turned good. And it brought you pure joy knowing that you would soon be taking on her last name, which you secretly thought of as your greatest achievement. Natasha was the one you wanted with for life, and you were steps closer.
You waited to hear Natasha’s voice. You waited in anticipation for her to run to you and start to spill immediately. You were waiting to wipe her tears and assure her that it wasn’t her fault, and that she couldn’t have done anything differently. “Hi.”
You frowned. Confusion flooded your senses at the short greeting. “Huh?”
“Why are you up?” Her tone sounded almost accusatory, like she had caught you doing something that you weren’t supposed to do, like you were intruding on her time. The frown on your face turned into a slight scowl, and then you reminded yourself that patience was key with Natasha.
“I’m allowed to wait up for my future wife,” you teased, but the look in your eye was serious. You could see how the red head lingered at the doorway, like she was trying to decide whether to bolt or leave with grace. You weren’t going to give her enough time to make the decision. Come sit, please.” When Natasha didn’t move an inch, your facial expression fell. “Please.”
Natasha walked over to the bed slowly, like she was being forced to move or die. You shook your head side to side, eyeing her up and down like the answer to the problem that you didn’t know yet was written on her body somewhere. “I’m here,” she said quietly, like a distant whisper.
“Are you really?” You asked quietly, and it felt like your voice echoed like the beating of drums in the nearly silent room. “Can you please tell me what’s going on?”
“Nothing happened.”
You knew that you shouldn’t pry. You both hated prying, but you were also both naturally transparent. You two had never truly had to pry with each other before. The truth was, you didn’t know how far you could push until she snapped on you. “Are you sure?”
Like someone had flipped a switch, a small smile lit up on Natasha’s face. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to sate you for a while. “Yes, princessa. I’m very sure. I’m tired.”
That was all it took. All it took was Natasha muttering the sweet nickname to you, and it was all as good as talked about. You could rest for a moment.
“Then we can go to bed, my love.” You reached out to touch Natasha’s face, loving the familiar feeling of her soft skin. “You know, you don’t ever have to be afraid to tell me anything, Nattie.”
You stared at Natasha for a while, just admiring her face and everything about it, almost missing the way that she didn’t do it back. This was something that you two did nearly every night before going to sleep- you just watched each other. A slow, dopey grin slid onto your face, and then you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her nose, then her cheek, and then to her pink lips in a soft yet passionate kiss, as soft as rose petals.
You pulled away and smiled at her with your eyes closed, nuzzling your face into her neck. You took in a deep breath, inhaling her sweet smell and feeling the comfort was over you like waves in the ocean. You could have told her a thousand things in that instant, but they all revolves around one master idea. “I love you so much, Natasha.”
You brushed a red strand of hair out of her face before reaching up to kiss her forehead, and then you were back in her neck, trying to sleep.
There was no response, just Natasha’s arm’s getting tighter around you and squeezing three times, each harder and shakier than the last. That was all it took for you to fall asleep.
When you woke up the next morning, you recalled having a dream that featured a woman crying, the sound distant yet close.
§§§
You had a feeling that Natasha was going to do the exact same thing that she did the first time, and you assumed correctly. You took it in stride this time and went to the flower store to pick out your bouquet that you would walk with, and probably throw. It was something that you wanted to do on your own, anyway. Like most brides, you didn’t want your future spouse seeing anything that you were going to be wearing until the big day. Not even the veil or the flowers that you would be carrying.
“That’s gorgeous!” You grinned at the employee, who mirrored your excited look. “That’s perfect, she’ll love it.”
While you gushed about your flowers, you also wondered if Natasha was doing a bouquet, too. You hoped that she had someone that would help her out with it, maybe Sharon or Wanda. Natasha wasn’t really big on the planning of the wedding. In fact, she wanted it much smaller than it was going to be, but you had convinced her to do it your way. Maybe it was your natural charm that helped you swindle the spy, or perhaps it was because she just secretely wanted the same thing.
As you walked away from the flower shop after placing the order, you walked by the busy donut shop that Natasha loved going to. Usually, it would be Natasha that stopped by and brought you some donuts, but maybe the other way around would be enough to make the red headed woman smile a bit. You stopped for a second and then didn’t hesitate to go in, pulling out a couple dollars for a tip, too.
Natasha loved chocolate donuts, even though she tried to resist eating them. You liked glazed better, but it was alright. You’d buy chocolate for her. You had hope that they would get Natasha to open up just a little, as dumb as it sounded. But a bribe never went wrong, and what was the harm in donuts?
“Thank you, Sarah,” you said after you got the box of donuts, walking out of the sweet smelling shop and down the street towards the tower.
When you got back, it was loud. It usually was pretty loud, with everyone and everything going on, but this was a different type of loud. It wasn’t the tinkering of metal in the lab or the sounds of sparring or elevators going up and down. It was shouting. A full on shouting match that was loud enough to be heard from floors down was happening. You nearly dropped the box of donuts as you hurriedly pressed the level that you and Natasha stayed on, hoping to find her in the room and out of the fight. The ride up the elevator was almost too full of anticipation as you waited in what would have been silence, if not for the yelling.
“No, because you can’t control yourself!” The voice was now obviously Steve’s. You were shocked. You had never heard Steve so riled up, ever. It was out of character for him to be so angry at someone, even if that particular someone fucked up royally. “You did something stupid, and now you’ll own up to it. Simple.”
“I fucking can’t!” You frowned. That was without a doubt Natasha. “I can’t, not right now. So fuck off.”
“I can’t fuck off after you’ve done something like this, Romanoff.” You winced as the elevator doors opened. Steve didn’t use Natasha’s last name anymore, not since they got close. And he certainly didn’t use the f-bomb much. “This is… it’s beyond-”
“What happened?” You shoved the donuts into Sam’s waiting hands, which were open for business when he saw you coming out of the elevator. “What’s all the yelling for?”
Everyone was staring at you like you were a ghost that wasn’t supposed to show up even though they had called on you. No one had an immediate answer, and so you put your hands on your hips. “Is everything okay?”
Tony looked at Natasha with sharp eyes and took a step back, raising his palms. “On you.”
It took a second for Natasha to say anything to you, and it was clear that everyone was waiting for something. It was even more clear that everyone was equally pissed at Natasha, for whatever reason.
“Everything is just fine, princessa.” Natasha’s voice carried over to your ears, smooth as honey, even though she wasn’t looking up into your eyes. “Don’t worry.”
You didn’t really believe it. How could you? She wasn’t talking to you, she wasn’t lying with you, she wasn’t counting your heartbeats like you did with her. There was something wrong, something had to be for Steve to be yelling like that, in front of everyone else. You eyed Natasha for a few extra seconds and then took the donuts back, muttering a thanks to Sam.
“Alright.” As if seeing the box made you remember why you went out in the first place, your trademark grin was back. “I ordered my bouquet today,” you hummed, walking up to Natasha and planting a kiss on her lips. When you pulled away, you murmured the customary I love you under your breath, like you two did every time you kissed. The one who initiated the kiss would say it first, and it would be answered by a quick “always”.
“A-always. Oh?” You realized that Natasha’s voice fluttered when she said it.
“Yeah, you can’t see which one, though.” You winked at her playfully, trying to ignore the way that the others looked mildly uncomfortable. You were used to uncomfortable looks, but never from them. You knew that it wasn’t homophobia, because they were never that way. So their behavior ran deeper than that. What the fuck happened? “My dress appointment is tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
You were too busy getting a donut from the box to see the looks that everyone else shared when you spoke again. “How’s the girl who went on the mission with you? She seemed a little upset when you guys came back.”
Natasha’s hair nearly bounced with how high she shot up, her body going straight at the mention of the other girl. She looked away from your eyes for a split second, and then back. “Fine.”
You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, eyes on Natasha. “Is she good with fashion? Maybe seeing dresses and all that would make her feel a little better.”
Natasha looked horrified as she realized what you were insinuating. “No. No, she’s fine. She doesn’t need to be invited anywhere.”
“It’s just to sit and watch me try on dresses. Wanda, Sharon, and Pepper are going, right?” You looked towards Tony to confirm, and he nodded his head firmly before looking at Natasha again, a serious look in his eyes. “Maybe Abigail can go.”
“No. She’s not going.” There was something in Natasha’s tone that sounded so final, so adamant, that you knew in your heart to just drop it. It saved you both in that moment.
That didn’t mean that you weren’t allowed to make a face of disapproval. “That’s not nice at all, Nattie. I hope you weren’t the reason she was crying. You’re known to be a little mean.”
Natasha looked away from you, taking a step back. Her eyebrow was twitching, a sign of stress that you picked up on like it was your own. “I have to go.”
“Wait, I got these for-” Natasha left in a hurry, so fast that you barely even registered that she had left. She left awkwardness in her absence. “Well, she can eat them later. Feel free to have some, guys, just save one or two for her, okay?”
They were all quiet for a few seconds, like they were in the midst of a special moment where they were all feeling the same thing, everyone in the room except for you. Finally, Wanda spoke. “Okay, Y/N.” You smiled at them, gave them all sweet hugs, and left.
§§§
You were bursting at the seams at being seen for a dress appointment at Kleinfeld’s. Wanda was with you, and so were Sharon and Pepper. They were excited for you, but no one matched your energy.
You were a girl finally getting what she had been dreaming of her whole life; to get married in a beautiful dress to the person she loved. You would soon be walking down the isle to see Natasha waiting for you, flanked by everyone else that was ever important to them.
You must have been the luckiest woman in the world.
“You’re really excited,” Sharon mused, but it was more of an observation than a statement.
“I’m so excited,” you confirmed. “I’m marrying the love of my life in what’s going to be my dream dress, I know it.” You grinned as the four of you watched people bustling around the shop. There was a bride near tears, just like on the TV episodes, and you watched fondly. Seeing people get what they wanted made you happy.
The search for the perfect dress went nothing less than perfectly. Within the first two sweeps, you managed to get into a dress that everyone thought was perfect for you, and you loved it, too. It even brought the three out of the haze that they were in, out of focus and minds so far gone that your excited squeals were all that broke them out of their thoughts.
“It’s gorgeous, Y/N.” Pepper said, her voice soft and cautious as they walked up to pay. It was silent as you waited for an attendant to come to the counter and check you out.
“I- I think there’s something you should know.” The other girls’ head whipped Pepper’s way, and she gave them a look that told them that she wasn’t going to back down from whatever she had to say.
You had what felt like a permanent grin on your face as you thought about the dress. It was a dramatic ball gown, blush pink and flowy. You were almost as in love with it as you were with Natasha, and the matching heels that you got and the gorgeous veil that matched topped it all off. You and your soon to be bridal party walked out into the crisp air, and you turned your head towards Pepper. “Sure, what is it?”
There were a few beats of silence. “Let’s go sit in the car,” Pepper insisted, and so they walked back to the car that Happy was driving for them, where he was sitting with the partition rolled down. He gave them a half assed greeting before they all piled in. “Can I start off with saying that… I’m sorry if you feel like any of us betrayed you.”
You trusted them all with your life, but that didn’t stop your heart from starting to race at the words Pepper said. Whatever this announcement was, it wasn’t good at all. “What?” When no one said anything, you laughed a little. “What, is the dress actually ugly and you didn’t say anything while we were in there? Do I need to go back?”
“No, the dress is beautiful.” The other girls nodded, and then you were sure of yourself and your taste again. “It’s just… Abigail.”
You frowned a bit, immediately thinking of the tragic scene where the girl rushed out of the quintet, breaking down by the second. “Oh, poor thing. Is she not doing as well as they say she is? I know a first big mission can be tough.”
There was a thick silence before Sharon blurted it out. “I am so, so sorry.” You leaned forward, heart skipping a few beats while Sharon took in a deep breath. You knew that some kind of blow was coming just by her apology, and you were bracing for it. “Natasha and Abigail had an affair on the mission.”
In the movies, it was like an instant shattering of the heart when news was broken like that. Immediate tears, automatic screaming and cursing and wanting to call up the other person to threaten them. There was lashing out, the breaking of glass, all the cinematic things that made actors on screen look better and less awkward when they broke down. You always thought that they were overreacting.
Now you knew that they weren’t. You felt that way on the inside. Your mind was raging like a hurricane and a tornado all at once, one disaster coming from the east and the other from the west. Your anger was the tornado, whipping around and threatening to destroy everything in your path and lash out at every single damn person in that car. But just like a tornado, you wore out and disbanded, all in your head. All that was left was the hurricane. The sadness. The disappointment. The heartbreak.
You had never even entertained the thought of how you would be after getting betrayed by her, but if you had, you probably would have imagined that the tornado would have acted first. But it didn’t. Unlike in the movies, all you did was tilt your head to the side and ask for the words to be repeated, even though you didn’t even listen for a second. You couldn’t believe it. Not Natasha. Not your Natasha. Not your angel.
“Natasha and Abigail slept with each other on multiple occasions on the mission, by word of Steve,” Sharon pointed out, her voice similar to the way a doctor sounded while delivering bad news, only a little shakier. “Abigail ran out crying because she fell in love with Natasha and knew that it would never really happen, not because she ruined the mission.”
Not only had Natasha slept with another person, but she had somehow convinced the girl that they were going to be together. Natasha didn’t have a ring, and the girl was new. There was no way she would have known that you two were together unless someone explicitly told her, and there were better things to do on a mission. It wasn’t her fault. Even if she had known, it wasn’t Abigail’s fault. Natasha Romanoff knew better. She knew a thousand times better.
“I don’t think either of them meant for it to happen,” Pepper said, immediately trying to calm you down, even though you hadn’t even spoken an angry word yet, and you looked like you weren’t even close to shouting.
The distinct sound of the partition rolling up was what brought you back to the present.
“But it did happen,” you said slowly, not even realizing that your teeth were gritted. “It happened.”
You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t want to, you wanted to believe it was a lie and calmly confront Natasha, but Steve was the one who had said it, and Steve didn’t lie. Why hadn’t he told you before?
Now that you knew what went on during the mission, you could see that everyone was acting weird. Everyone knew, there was no question about it. Which meant that everyone knew, and no one told you. They didn’t even hint toward anything, and they knew that you were supposed to be marrying the woman who went behind your back and did the unforgivable multiple times.
“We- we’re supposed to be getting married.” The pitiful sentence was all that you could string together in a thought as you looked out of the window at the traffic. You wished that the cars would just go, fly around so that you could cry by yourself. “I don’t even know what to say.” There were a million things happening in your mind at once, and trying not to cry in front of everyone was the biggest effort.
“I’m sorry,” Sharon’s voice said, and she really did sound apologetic. But it wasn’t enough in the moment. You wanted to hear Natasha say it, if all was true. But you knew it was. “We’re all sorry. We were waiting for Romanoff to own up to what she did.” Sharon said, obviously trying not to feel the wrath of you that was surely bubbling beneath the surface.
You could have been angry towards them. You knew that you felt betrayed, by everyone that knew and chose not to speak, that was a no-brainer. You could have been a lot of things at the moment, but there were bigger fish to fry. You clenched your fists and looked at the window, blinking rapidly as you grappled for composure. “Don’t apologize, you didn’t do anything.”
“I don’t think you-”
“I get it. It’s alright. I just prefer not to speak right now, ‘s all.” And conversation ended. But that was when the turmoil in your head and heart started to crank up the energy.
Your first instinct was to bust in there and look for the Black Widow herself, to yell until you lost your voice. Your first instinct was to cause a scene and embarrass her as much as Natasha did to you. You couldn’t believe she had gotten everyone to lie for her. You couldn’t believe that she had an obvious affair with a new agent. You couldn’t believe that you walked around thinking that nothing was wrong while everyone else pitied you behind your back.
Unfortunately, you were quite used to not being enough. Not enough to make it into ivy leagues, not enough to make the track team, not having enough to afford to buy all of your clothes without cringing and thinking about putting some items back. But you were never going to be used to not being enough for Natasha Romanov.
The drive back was the most awkward drive that the four of them had ever been on, without question. You had tears streaming down your face but you were still as silent as the night, just like everyone else. You hardly ever cried. You were always the ray of sunshine and rationality in the tower, and now everything positive had been blown out by the darkness that Natasha created.
When everyone got out of the car, it was sluggishly. Everyone knew what was bound to happen, but it was questionable whether or not the end of the blow out was going to result in settlement or people storming and and leaving. You already knew how it would end.
The second that the elevator landed on you and Natasha’s floor, you shakily thanked the girls for their honesty and walked right out, knowing that it was probably the last time that you would ever be going up in Stark Tower. In your angry fantasy about confronting your fiancée, you imagined storming in and shouting her name, getting her attention and then breaking her down into pieces like the words did to you in the car.
But once you were in your room, you found that the fantasies were just that, and you couldn’t say a word or do a thing but find your suitcase and pack, all the fire leaving your body the second that you saw your room.
You were halfway through gathering everything that was yours in the room that you and Natasha shared, tears streaming down steadily, when you registered that it was real. Natasha had really done the unimaginable, and there was no turning back. A small sob escaped your throat when you saw the sweater you had gotten Natasha hanging up in the closet, the same one that she wore when she got down on one knee for you. Did that mean nothing, too? Was the meaning and emotion of that and everything that led up to it blown to smithereens by something as trivial as two months?
The door flung open. “What are you doing?”
“Don’t talk to me.” You blurted, turning your head to not look at Natasha, trying to avoid her blue gaze. If you looked, you had no doubts that you would turn to stone, and that you would never find the strength to leave the woman who you loved the most and hurt you the most, all within three minutes.
Natasha looked bewildered by the suitcase on the bed. “Are you- are you leaving?”
“What the hell else am I supposed to do?” The temper that was kept just below simmering in the car was finally starting to boil over. “I can’t believe you, Natasha!”
“I-” She sputtered, and you gave her a pointed look in response. “Who told you?”
The question brought fire into your veins. She knew that you knew, because she knew that it was the one secret that had the power to make you so emotional. You two kept no secrets, and for this to be the first? That was painful.
You knew that Natasha would sense your lie about who told you and who didn’t, but you told it anyway. There was no use in causing a riff between the team because they wanted to help you. “I figured it out myself. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Natasha held her hands out in front of her body, and the gesture was so similar to the way that she used to hold her hands out in a silent ask for you to hold them. You hated the way that your heart lurched, and the way that you craved the feeling of her hands even more. “It was an accident.”
An accident? A two month escapade with another woman was an accident?
“After that long ass ride home on the quinjet, you could have at least come up with a better lie.”
“Princessa-”
“I- fuck you.” Your voice cracked in the middle of the explicative, tears falling into the suitcase pitifully. It made your raging temper even worse. “Fuck you.”
“My love-”
“I don’t understand why!” You couldn’t contain the waves of emotion you felt anymore as you slammed the top of the unfinished suitcase closed. “I give you everything I have every single day. Every day. I love you with all of my heart and I do everything I can to make you happy and you give me this? I tried so hard to make sure that we were both happy together, and we were. So, why?”
The look on Natasha’s face wasn’t unfamiliar to you. You knew it well, but it had never been used on you before. It was the look of a spy who didn’t want to say a damn word, silent resistance that you knew would be unbroken. That’s when you knew that you may never know the real reason. And it broke you. “There isn’t a reason.”
You crumbled faster than you ever had before “Natasha, we were- how could you do this to me?” You collapsed into sobs, falling onto the bed and putting your face into your hands. You didn’t know how long you cried for until you felt a hand on your shoulder, very hesitant to even attempt at being comforting. You didn’t have the energy to tell her to fuck off.
“I’m sorry,” Natasha cooed, and for a second, it felt like something was right again. Natasha being gentle was a regular occurrence, a side to the famous ex assassin that only you saw. It was your biggest safety blanket in life. But when she opened her mouth again, you were brought back to why you two were even doing this in the first place. “I didn’t mean for any of it to happen.”
You shook your head out of anger. The fact that the lie was shitty made it worse, made it hurt more. She didn’t even want to come up with a lie that would make you stay?
“Somehow you convinced that poor girl that you were going to be with her. How did you manage to do that on accident? How did you sleep with her multiple times on accident? You lead her on emotionally.”
“No.”
“Yes.” You pushed her hand off of your shoulder. “You told her some pretty little words and she fell for them as most do, right? Like I did, I guess. Just tell me the truth.”
“I didn’t-”
You remembered the way the girl was so distraught. You remembered the amount of tears that she had. You remembered the way that she avoided looking in your eyes, the way that she looked completely heart broken. Just like how you looked. You scoffed. “She told you she loved you, didn’t she?”
Natasha’s light blue eyes were boring into yours as she was silent. For the first time in a while, there was no telling of what Natasha was thinking in your mind. You were disconnected. “Yes.”
The words hurt to get out, but you had to know the answer to them. At any cost. Even at the cost of your own heart and sanity. “And you told her the same.”
There was a thick silence that spanned across multiple frantic heartbeats. “Yes.”
The next words were automatic. “I’m done.” You opened the suitcase again. The tears were coming harder than ever, warping your voice so much that your not Natasha hardly recognized it. “Done.”
“You can’t just-”
“Yes, I can!” You whipped around, eyes nailing Natasha right in her place. “Unless you can give me a good reason for what the hell you did, I’m done.”
Excruciating silence. It struck like lightning on the last tree in a struck down forest.
You turned on your heel, but then, words bubbled up in your throat, and you couldn’t shove them down. “When you miss me after you’re done, don’t come back to me.” Your voice cracked in the middle, but you kept pushing. “When you stop and think about what we could have been, do not come and find me. Because you’ll figure it out one day, and it’ll get through that thick skull.”
Natasha’s eyes were slightly watery as she looked on, taking a few steps forward with on outstretched arm, looking to latch on to you. “Love, please.”
You scoffed and ran out of the door, with nothing but a suitcase and a bag in your hands. You cried all the way to the elevator, ignoring the fact that Wanda and Vision’s room was right there across the hall, and how they without a doubt heard everything. Hell, everyone had heard everything. The argument weren’t exactly quiet.
You cried even harder when the doors of the elevator closed. Your hands shook as you brought them up to your face, remembering far too late that Tony Stark sometimes watched the tapes, especially elevator ones. You couldn’t even bring yourself to care. You turned into yourself and sobbed as your body and head shook, trying to rid herself of everything that happened. You cried more when you realized that you hadn’t meant a word of what you said to Natasha.
Deep down, through all of the emotions, you wanted her to seek you out when she learned her lesson. You didn’t know why, and you knew that you didn’t want it any time soon, but you knew that you wanted it.
It was supposed to be a magical day. The day you got the dress was the day it all became real, the day that solidified the fact that you would be getting married to the woman that you loved. You were heart broken. The familiar sound of the elevator stopping and the doors opening barely snapped you out of your well deserved pity party.
You only took one look at the new arrival, and that was when it was decided that the universe, was indeed, very unkind.
Abigail stood there like a deer in head lights, swallowing and looking with wide eyes, certainly unsure about whether or not she should just leave or apologize and hop in and pretend like she didn’t know what was going on. She looked like she expected confrontation.
Your wobbly smile shocked her. “You don’t have to be scared. Come in.” Your voice was just as shaky as the smile you offered, stepping to the side a bit and giving the other woman enough room.
You felt bad. Abigail was young, even younger than you. There was no way that she knew. No one really resisted the charms of Natasha Romanoff, anyway, and you knew it. Especially not a wide eyed newbie who was desperate to please on her first mission with the big guys, some of the original Avengers. There was no doubt that she felt terrible based on the way that she didn’t look you in the eye, and how she avoided everyone. There was only one person in the wrong, and it wasn’t this poor girl.
The doors dinged as they reached the bottom, and right before they opened, you smiled at her. “It’s okay,” your voice was a strong whisper. “It’s not your fault.” You gave her one look as you wheeled your suitcase out of the elevator, taking long strides to reach the huge front door of the tower, praying for no more interruptions.
“Y/N!”
You didn’t want to stop at all. You knew who’s commanding voice it was, and stopping to talk didn’t seem like an option. You preferred not to talk to anyone on the team, especially not one of the people who went on the mission. You wiped your cheeks and turned around anyway. “Yes?”
Steve stood before you, a sincere expression on his face as he looked you up and down, your obvious and inevitable departure making him wince. “I’m sorry.”
There was nothing that you could really say to him. He wasn’t the point of your anger and he was a friend, even if he had kept something from you. “You’re not the one who did it.”
“I could have told you.”
“No, she should have, a long time before someone else did. You didn’t do anything wrong.” The story of infidelity that happened was Natasha’s story to tell. While you still felt a little more than bitter about being an idiot in the dark about the whole thing, you would have preferred to hear it from her, one hundred percent. “I’m just pissed I found out after buying the perfect dress and veil and all of it. I was so ready.” You felt like a fool.
“I don’t know why she-”
“I don’t know why, either.” You admitted, shaking your head slowly. “But one day, maybe I’ll figure it out.”
“You’re leaving.” Steve saw it as a closed chapter now that you were storming out. Anyone would, but you knew better. You knew how Natasha worked, you knew how you worked, but most importantly, you knew how you two worked together. “You and Natasha- you and Nat are special. I’ve never seen anything like what you two have in my life, no one has. That’s why we’re all so mad. She ruined the one relationship that everyone obviously knows is true love, for no reason.”
“I know.”
He looked guilty for even saying the words. “You’re not going to try and work it out?”
“Don’t you think that I know what we have is special?” You asked him, new tears welling up in your eyes as you spoke. “I’m leaving this to her because I trust her with it. I don’t forgive her, and maybe I never will, but this is for her to decide.”
“What makes you think that she’ll decide right? Or what she’ll even decide at all?”
“She’ll come back.” You stated with certainty, and these were the first words that hadn’t had a crack or wobble in them since you started talking to the red head. “She’ll miss me and she’ll be over the thrill of whatever happened on the mission, and she’ll find me, wherever I decide to go. She’ll come back to me, just like I would come back to her. It could take weeks or years, but she will. That’s how we work.”
Steve was momentarily stunned, but after a few short moments, you knew that you had convinced him. “And you’re willing to wait for her? However long it takes?”
You lifted your lips at him, even more tears building up in your eyes as your answer flew up to your lips without even thinking. “She’ll come and find out.”
You walked away with heavy steps, already feeling her lingering on your skin, and the haunting memories of the two of you as happy as could be swirling around in your head.
§
You were well aware that removing Natasha from your life would hurt. But you never could have anticipated how much it would hurt.
Natasha was the safety net you never knew you needed. She was the one person on earth who made you feel truly wanted, needed even. She knew everything that you required to feel loved and you knew her just the same, and you both did those things. And that’s what made you two different.
You had been cheated on before. That was how Natasha had met you, actually. Your last boyfriend had cheated on you like the dirty dog he was with nearly every woman he was cute enough to be with for a night, and Natasha met you while you were getting hammered at a bar because you found out. Natasha met you at your lowest point and raised you up with all her might, and still had energy to love you. You felt useless and discarded, thrown under the bed and tossed to the side of the road, but she found you and made you something new. She made you her favorite.
§
Natasha was everywhere.
She was in the way that you made your coffee, because you hated it before you met her, and she introduced you to a kind that you liked. You got as addicted to it as you were to her.
She was in the way that you walked around the park at night instead of in the morning like you did before you met her, because she liked looking at the stars together.
She was in the way that you searched for her next to you in your sleep and when you first woke up. She was in the ring you still had. She was in the way you wrote your letter ‘n’ now, because you wrote her notes for years and always made the ‘n’ fancy just for her. It stuck. She was somehow related to every show and every movie and every brand of ice cream, and from the second week of suffering without her, you knew that she would linger on you like a faded tattoo.
During the third week, you swore that you could smell her perfume, though it made no sense. You had done laundry many times, and all of a sudden the smell popped up, like she was dropping in to spray the perfume and then leaving as soon as she came. The rich smell was something that you would never forget, and it hung around like thick smoke in your mind. You wanted it to leave.
You cursed her name all throughout the fourth week of being alone in your small apartment in Brooklyn. Everything was her fault. The washer broke, Natasha somehow did it. If you woke up with makeup still on your face from the past night, Natasha was at fault.
You went shopping during the sixth week, and you swore you saw flashes of her red hair in the grocery line, pitifully walking faster with your cart to both flee and go towards it. A part of you knew that she would never shop this far out, but you couldn’t help it. You missed her. You missed her a lot.
But that didn’t change that it stung so, so badly.
§
It was disgustingly close to what the wedding date would have been when you were lying in bed with a stray cat that you had managed to nurse back to health and call your own about two weeks prior. In a way, it was freeing. Natasha hated animals. They were a responsibility in her mind, nothing more. You loved the cat quickly, and named him Henry.
There were three sharp knocks on the door that you would have taken for strokes of thunder if they weren’t so close. You frowned and stood up, walking to the window to peak outside and see that there was a thunderstorm rolling through, the wind higher than usual and the rain coming down sideways.
You walked to the door with the small cat trailing behind you like a loyal companion. You cracked a smile when he meowed, and you looked through the peep hole, the bright porch light shocking your eye for a second, and then you saw.
Natasha Romanoff was standing there, soaking wet with her arms hanging at her sides, trembling from the cold.
You took two steps back that startled Henry, causing him to meow louder this time. You breathed in, trying to be quiet, but you knew that she knew you were there. She was so trained that you knew she heard you approaching, and when you took your steps away from the door. You both knew each other were there.
You had indirectly told her to seek you out when she was ready, and here she was.
Were you ready?
Like you were a child trying to eavesdrop, you held your breath as you leaned into the door, putting your ear on it as you struggled to hear something, anything, from her. She wasn’t talking. You looked up into the peephole again, and she was looking at her feet, waiting for something to happen. She knew that you were deciding.
You had spent time looking for her in places you knew she would never be, running to and from things that looked like or reminded you of her, and now the real thing stood in your porch light in the rain. She came back to you.
She came back, but that didn’t erase everything that happened. Not at all. Her two months of fun and new experiences acted as the eraser, painting over everything that they had ever done in black paint. The joy of dancing with her under street lights and kissing in Tony’s limos and her hand under your sweatshirt didn’t amount to the pain it felt when she ripped herself from you.
But why did it hurt so much if they weren’t the same amount of emotion, if not more? If you looked at it with a rational mind, was the joy not worth more than the pain?
The pain weighed like bricks. There was one big brick that weighed half a ton on one scale, nearly tipping the other side.
But the joy? It weighed like clouds, because that’s what joy was. It was the feeling of being above the clouds. And you found that every moment of joy that you had Natasha, even though it was the weight of clouds, still outweighed the fat brick.
But were all of the cloud moments enough to possibly take another brick?
Your hand moved before you knew it, and you were undoing the chain and unlocking the door, yanking it open roughly and staring her down.
She was shocked. Her eyes were wide as she stared at you without any barriers, automatic tears welling up. Had she come all that way to not even know whether or not you would answer? Hell, you had done all of that while in limbo with yourself.
But now, without even knowing how Natasha truly felt, without even hearing one word from her mouth, you knew something changed.
“I knew you’d come back.”
#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x reader#marvel fanfiction#fem reader#lgbtq#natasha x reader#natasha x you#marvel imagines#my fics
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Crush - Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader
Warnings: N/A
Type: One shot
Request: N/A
Word Count: 1,566
Prompt: Loosely “Crave you” Everyone finds Steve undeniably appealing, but he wonders why he can’t seem to get the readers attention.
Notes: I know the song tends to be somewhat controversial, at least the concept of it, but I just wanted to write something for Steve. This was originally meant for Loki, but I figured I’d try something a little bit different for my writing blog heh. it’s kind of wholesome and just a little blurb to keep my mind off of things.
You’d been helping Steve with getting in touch with modernity throughout the years you’ve known him. Meeting him at a library, you had to be living under a rock to not know who the avengers were. To not recognize them was unheard of.
Sometimes it took a while, some people had to do a double take, like you. When Steve leaned up against the counter, iced blue eyes darting through the different titles of books laid before him as he waited to be checked out, you had to look at him once more.
As his ID verified your assumption, you couldn’t help but smile to him and even called him “cap” at some point throughout the transaction. Though you close your eyes in embarrassment at the thought, it seemed to flatter him. Not that you could tell though.
The months rolled over and Steve continued to be a star customer at your library, you even developed a friendship with the avenger. He’d take your suggestions and follow up on them during his next visit with you.
It seemed to warm your heart in an unexplainable way, fortifying your friendship with the soldier.
To hang out with Steve and have no disruptions was unheard of. Someone always had to spot him, whether it was a kid, a grateful mother or just simply a fan. He was always humble about it, eventually he had to stop apologizing to you verbally, graduating to the “I’m sorry” combination of eyebrows and puppy eyes.
You never did mind, if anything, it was heartwarming to see Steve appreciate the love he was given. You knew this was why he did it, why he risked his life constantly, for the people.
Though a few of your conversations started with books and different pop culture shows, movies and books he just had to watch to understand Tony, he did repay you in stories of his own.
Steve would talk to you about the war and sometimes he’d spare you the details, unless you insisted. Not every story was dark, some of them were just rejoiceful memories of the simpler times.
It seemed hard to imagine what it was like living in that era, it even seemed harder to imagine it was even real. Yet here you were listening to someone who did live through it and without a fault remembers it like it was a few years ago, because it was, for him at least.
As you began to see each other more frequently, you began to grow uneasy of how you felt. It seemed like such a far off reach.
Tonight, Steve invited you for dinner, outside a casual restaurant. The night was warm and breezy, it seemed perfect to have dinner outside.
Being as it was just a casual get together, you decided to go easy on the makeup. You went with a relaxed but cute outfit as well. Shorts with boots always seemed to tie the look together with an oversized loose breathing sweater and a tank.
Of course, Steve Rogers was never one to disappoint, he seemed to always look good in a loose fitting button up and jeans.
Steve Rogers seemed like the perfect guy, ideally, he was. He was smart, funny, protective, kind-hearted, selfless. a great listener, it seemed like he had it all. Except a girlfriend. Maybe it was the last thing on his mind. You sure as hell weren’t searching for a significant other at this point in time, you couldn’t imagine what it was like for Steve. Especially after what he mentioned to you about Peggy and his promised dance with her.
That story tore you to shreds, you could see how much love poured out of Steve’s eyes.
“You know, they might’ve pumped you up with all kinds of laboratory goo back in the day, but Steve Rogers your superpower was always your heart”
It seemed like you struck a nerve when you said that to him. You cleared your throat as you looked down to your glass of water “Sorry.” You muttered as you brought the glass to your lips.
“What? No, I’m sorry, it’s just that you and Peggy seem to think alike.”
You were glad the night was able to mystify the blush that swirled across your cheeks as you swallowed the cold water.
“Well, that should give you more of a reason to listen to what I have to say.” You scolded playfully.
“Yes ma’am, you will not be disobeyed again.” A laugh erupted from both of you. Your eyes lazily scanned the menu, but it seemed like you had a sixth sense of someone staring you down.
Without moving your head, your eyes slowed from the menu, to Steve's, then matched with his eyes. Before you could say anything, Steve parted his lips to talk, when he was interrupted by a pair of girls.
You were of course used to Steve’s seemingly celebrity status, but you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t admit sometimes, the attention he’d receive turned your stomach at times.
Instead you focused on the menu again, completely zoning out. Your face rested on the palm of your hand when you made your choice for dinner. A huff escaped your lips as you twirled the thin black straw around the inside of your glass of water.
That was until a hand waved in front of you, bringing you back to reality. Your eyes traced to meet Steve’s face, asking you if you were okay.
“What? Oh yeah, I’m ready are you?”
“Yeah, I’m ready, but.” Steve then pushed the menu aside, crossing his arms and leaning in towards you “Penny for your thoughts?”
Your head tilted to the side, leaning back some to leave some space for jesus. Raising an eyebrow as you looked to the super soldier who seemed determined to pick your brain rather than eat.
“Do you ever wonder if Jellyfish have feelings?” You admitted without breaking eye contact.
This of course threw Steve way off. A laugh escaped his lips when he heard what you asked. “Wait seriously? That’s what you’re thinking about?”
Steve’s laugh then faded when he didn’t see you laugh with him. “Oh! You’re serious. Well, yeah I think any living creature has feelings, no?”
You shrugged, then shot a smile into his direction, taking a sip from your water as the waiter approached your table.
There was a moment of silence between you both. You shifted your glass, then tableware. Huffing as you looked to the street, watching people walk by on the opposite side of the street. You seemed to daydream quite frequently if Steve didn’t say anything.
Though, he seemed unusually quiet as well. At least quiet enough for you to notice. Steve was talented at keeping the conversation flowing, but it seemed like tonight wasn’t the night to keep him very talkative.
He didn’t seem upset, but something was definitely throwing you off about him. You were sure it wasn’t anything you said, how could it have been? You barely said anything all night.
Maybe it was then that Steve seemed to notice you were catching on and as the king of never wanting to wait for anything, whether it was an action or a conversation he’d been awaiting to have with you, now was better than later.
“Y/N.”
As you were called, this caused you to look up to him, your stomach flipping backwards and forwards then backwards again. You hated confrontation. At least that’s what it seemed like when he called your name in that tone.
“Yep.” You responded immediately in a childish playful manner to keep things lighthearted.
This only made him pause for a moment, staring at you as you blinked at him, waiting for what he had to say.
“I have been trying to get your attention for that past five months. I’ve tried everything, I don’t know how to make it anymore clear. You’re driving me fucking crazy if I’m being honest”
This was not the direction you expected this conversation to go at all.
Your lips parted to speak, or rather sit there speechless. There was no way Steve Rogers just said that. What the hell was in your water. Your thoughts of hesitancy to keep drinking reflected by taking a glance to your drink.
“No I’m serious Y/N.”
You didn’t even know where to look after, your eyes searched the other tables, then your own as if you were looking for a phone, or keys. Your hands remained on the table, stopped from motion.
“You’re funny, smart and one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met, and it seems like I could get a fistful of peoples attention except yours.”
Looking to him again with the same blank expression, this was all coming to you at once, it almost gave you whiplash. “Wait what-”
Steve couldn’t help but scoff as he reviewed your reaction. “You’re serious? You haven’t noticed?” Steve pressed his lips together as he looked away from you. You weren’t even able to pinpoint how he felt, but if you didn’t know any better you would’ve assumed he felt embarrassed.
“Wait. Steve Rogers has a crush?” You teased, a huge grin wiped across your face, even in the dim lighting you could see Steve’s face flush. A laugh escaped him as his eyes met yours again.
“Yeah, Steve Rogers has a crush.”
#Captain America#Steve Rogers#Steve Rogers x Reader#Captain America x Reader#Marvel One shot#Steve Rogers one shot#Steve Rogers imagine#Marvel imagine
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I couldn't agree with you more about Wanda already suffering too much, but there's something about sad stories that just moves me, you know? I just love them. My request was actually inspired on a song. "Forever and Always" by Parachute, do you know it? I strongly recomend it, it's a beautiful song and I think it can match pretty well in the Avengers universe. But again, only if you feel confortable writing it. I could never hate you and I bet you'll create an amazing story, as usual.
Hi Anon, I cried like a baby listening and writing. But it was an interesting experience, I had never really written angst before. I hope it is more or less what you expected. I kept it short because it's scary to write this haha
Wanda x Reader - Always and Forever - AO3
Words: 800 words // One shot. Angst
You have bought a ring, and you try to swallow your nervousness as you are driving home.
So you put a song on the radio, and as you hum a low pop song coming out of the radio, someone is sleeping in the opposite lane. And then you make a turn in the road, and you see a big headlight, and then you don't see anything else.
"I'm sorry Mrs. Maximoff. There's been an accident on Avenue Seven."
There is a noise in your head. You blink, and everything hurts. You hear voices, but everything echoes out of focus.
- Internal hemorrhaging, three fractured ribs. Faster, Jon! We're losing her.
You listen, but nothing is making sense. And then you black out again.
Maybe you are dreaming, but it is good, so you don't care.
All your senses are filled with Wanda. You see her, and feel her touch your body, smell her hair, and taste her mouth as you listen to her sigh.
You don't know where she is, but you think it is in your bed. In one of the many moments you have been together. And then Wanda is laughing, and you are home.
There is a warm touch against your hand. It's so hard to open your eyes, but you force yourself to do it anyway.
- Hey, baby. - You hear someone calling, and it takes seconds for you to recognize your girlfriend. It's hard to breathe, but you don't know why. - Hey.
Wanda is touching your face with her free hand, but you can barely feel anything but the intense pain in your chest. There is an insistent whistling noise that you don't know where it comes from.
You can't speak, and your eyes are wanting to close again, but you want to see Wanda. And then she's crying, and you think the doctors are trying to take her away from you. And then there is a red light, and you don't understand what is happening.
- Please, baby. - she asks. - You can't leave me. Please.
You don't know where you're going, but you'd like to stay with Wanda.
- I love you. - You sigh helplessly, and then Wanda cries harder. You don't understand, but it's so hard to stay awake.
- Please... You promised. - She cries, letting go of your hand. She screams in between her cries. You want to scream back, you want to stay. But you're almost asleep again. - You promised not to go anywhere. Please. I can't lose you too.
You want to tell Wanda that you got a ring. But your body doesn't obey you.
You miss the warmth of her hand, and then there is someone holding Wanda. It's Steve, and you wish he would tell you why Wanda is crying, but you realize that he is crying too.
And then you choke, and it tastes like blood. You think someone is sobbing, but everything is dark again.
You can barely open your eyes. Someone says it's hopeless, that the doctors have done everything possible. And there is a knock on the door.
Your eyes are ajar, and you are breathing hard, and then there is someone kneeling beside you.
- Hey, - it's Wanda, and she's weeping. You want to ask her what happened, but you can't speak. - You... You've had an accident.
She answers your question in a broken voice. You think she read your mind. You love her so much.
Wanda gives him a broken smile between cries.
- I love you too.
Wanda. You call her in your head. You want to tell her that everything will be all right. But then you remember the ring. And Wanda sobs, turning her head toward the coat slumped against the chair the nurses handed her, and then looks at you again.
- Were you going to ask me to marry you? - she asks between sobs.
You imagine the scene you had planned. A romantic dinner for you two. Maybe some wine. And then you would take her to the top floor of the tower to look up at the stars. You would get down on your knees. And even if your hands were shaking, you would hold the velvet box.
Wanda wiped her face, but new tears fell.
- It's beautiful, baby. - You hear her tell you. - I would say i do.
You think you're smiling but you're not sure if your body responds to anything anymore.
You want to tell Wanda that you'd like to live with her. Somewhere far away, maybe on a small farm like Clint's. You imagine children running around the yard, while you and Wanda are cuddling on the porch.
Wanda sobs beside you, watching your mind.
Don't cry darling, I love you. I will love you forever. You think as you feel the darkness take over your vision again.
This time, you don't wake up anymore.
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Waste it on Me jjk | m
Summary: Your best friend wants to have you in more than a platonic way, and he will find his way in.
Raiting: Explicit/ NSFW/ +18
Genre: smut, slight fluff, not enough angst, besties to lovers, roommates to lovers
Pairing: Jungkook x female reader
Warnings: face slapping, spanking, cursing, choking, slight BDSM, creampie, marking, oral (f receiving), slight degrading, slight daddy kink
Word Count: 3.7 k
a/n: welcome to my first smut imagine, again it's 3am in the morning as I'm editing and finishing this, you know the drill. I wanted to make this idea as soon as it popped out in my brain, it's inspired by the song Waste it on me by BTS with Steve Aoki , good feedback is always welcome you can ask me, dm me any form will be nice, please enjoy!
"So you're not having that guy around anymore?" you sighed after eating from your noodles
"No, not anymore Jungkook" he looked right in your eyes and smirked
"Now I can try it out" you giggle and give him a little punch on the shoulder
"Never gets old, but I don't really wanna ruin what we have" he finished what he has on the plate and leaves it on the sink
"Why not try?" You shrug your shoulders and finish your meal
"Love is not for me, is so messed up, it's a waste of time Guk" walking to your couch he follows
"Why would you think I will be like those guys?"
You don't reply and you choose a Marvel movie to watch together.
Jungkook is your best friend, the shoulder you will cry, and your safety spot. Also, you will give all the cuddles you could cause he was warm. You have a deep love for him.
Whatsoever he was deeply in love with you. Even tho he always jokes about it he wanted to become the person you wanted to waste your time with, like the relationship already existed but with sex.
He couldn't stand that you kept seeing other guys just to fuck around a few times and you couldn't ask him that, he could give you that as well.
As the movie plays along and Spiderman shows up, you laugh at something that happened and Jungkook looks at you with all the love he holds and decides that if he had to keep you this way then he will do it.
You've been roommates since you both started at college, and you think of Jungkook as the little brother who was always for you.
Meanwhile, in Jungkook's eyes, you were a woman, so intelligent, competent, and uncomperd. He tried dating but he couldn't get his mind off of you.
The next day as Jungkook meets his friends he sighs in tiredness.
"Don't understand why y/n won't date me"
"Have you taken your shirt off in front of her?" Taehyung asks playfully
"No! I don't think that will do" he yelps and his friend roll his eyes
"Look, take it from me, if you don't act like the men you are she is not going to start thinking of you in that way"
Taehyung's words sank into his chest, he was a man after all.
A storm was coming on, you went to the market and bought all the supplies you might need. it wasn't your first storm and you always like being prepared.
By the time you got home Linkin Park was playing out loud while the rain started to fall in heavy motion, good thing you got home before.
"Hey Gukkie I'm -..." as soon as the door is open your friend is doing push-ups, in the middle of your living room, shirtless all full of sweat
"Oh, hey doll, they closed the gym 'cause of the storm and I didn't want to waste the day" he grins as he sees you walking not taking your eyes off of his bare torso.
Wet and you are sure that is hard, you don't talk 'cause somehow words can't form, your brain is melting.
He just calls me a doll?! Fucking Jeon Jungkook
"A mouse ate your tongue?" by this you're in the kitchen, getting the things out of the bags and he comes to help you
He's always been a teaser, after all, walls are thin and you could hear him playing with the girls he has taken home.
"I don't think I need your help, continue what you were" he grins and leans closer to your face
"Why? You wanna see what I was doing?" you open your eyes at the most with surprise and gasp
"I-.. I didn't mean that" you stutter "Fine. Help me then" your voice is harsh now and he laughs at you
"I want you to see the show, just for you baby girl" he caresses your cheeks and you don't close your eyes, they're full of lust and he notices "Just gotta say please"
He knows your weakness, he knows your spot, and you get more turned on that he gives attention to them. The shorts that he's wearing shows the thighs that you once told him you liked. You swallow a thick gulp of saliva and decide that you won't give up on your lustful and filthy thoughts.
You go back to your task and he seems surprised, eventually, he helps you, comes so close to touching your body with his sweat and he enjoys the way you jump at the surprise.
But you don't give in.
The music still plays with the soothing rain that sooner than later becomes a deluge.
You go to your room just to not see the man doing push-ups and lifting weight in the living room.
To distract yourself you read a book, get calm by the rain and little thunder that begins to show.
Netflix kicks in and the latest tv show you were watching seems like the best option, as the intro plays the lights go off.
"Shit!" you hear the heavy sound from the living room
"Is everything okay?!" you shout as you open the door in case there's an emergency
"Are you?" a thunder comes and you jump a little while seeing his gaze on your chest
Of course, the tank top and the yoga pants weren't meant to be put out to follow the game your roommate started. Of course not.
"I am, I will light the candles" he follows you from close behind
The house is light by the moon and the lightning when you start to burn the candles.
The couches are back in place but Jungkook is still shirtless. Your gaze goes from his torso to his eyes.
"Are you taking a shower?" his hair is a little wet from the previous exercise and he grins
"Wanna join?" you roll your eyes
"Don't flatter yourself" he laughs
"I'll be there, I was about to, but the lights went off" you nod and walk again to your room with the lighter
"Are you hungry already?" you nod "I'll make some ramyeon when I get out of the shower, want some?"
"Please" he winks at you and turns around to go to the shower.
Your gaze runs to his back, his muscles are not full of sweat but are still a good view, you bite your lip and the realization that you felt desired to the man you thought as a little brother hits you.
Inside your room, with the door locked. you begin to think of a solution. Cause it's your house and being horny around your dearest friend doesn't seem a good option, you couldn't handle just a fuck and then seen him the day after. You didn't want to get his hopes high and also didn't wanted to break everything you already have just because you can't leave to fuck another guy.
While he's in the shower your thoughts start to trail off to the sight of his back, and also for his front. Jungkook didn't have a bad way to look. His body fully wet from the water must be an exquisite-..
"Fuck!" you shout out loud and you hear knocks within seconds
"What happened?!" you opened the door and the sight of every drop of water falling from his torso greets you
Without saying a thing you started to believe it was a dream and the worried look goes away from his face. He went out in a rush to help you, and you were thirsting over his abs, what a shame on you.
"Y/n?"
"Yes! I'm going to make us ramyeon, please put on a shirt" started your walk to the kitchen and he grabbed you by the arm to stop your way
"Why?" you frowned your eyebrows in misunderstood
"It's cold" you let go of his hand and walk again
"Then you wear a shirt" like a reflect you roll your eyes
By the time you finished making the noodles, he shows with a shirt no long sleeve as he would usually, smiles at you. But you keep your poker face.
You two eat together on the couch while watching at the office, 'cause it was the only show you have downloaded previously, is an episode you've seen in a TikTok and wanted to watch it fully.
One guy says that he bought an engagement ring just within weeks they started dating, deep in your core you are a hopeless romantic and you put a pout in your mouth.
"Isn't that cute?"
"I think, I don't know if I would buy a ring for a girl"
"For him, it's not just a girl, cause he thinks she is the one"
"I thought you said love was and I quote so messed up and a waste of time" you snorted and turn your gaze to him
"I know what I said, and I think that maybe someone out there is meant to change the way I think, deep down I hope so" you went back to your computer screen "besides, love not romantic on shows is great"
"What you mean?" he's still looking at you when you gaze at him again
"She feels confident and in peace, not with a rush and full adrenaline"
"Have you ever felt that?" you nod looking at his doe eyes "With whom?"
"You" your voice is a whisper and he thinks he missed hear
"What?"
"Nothing" you laugh nervously and you feel his hand in yours
"I asked you a question" his voice was deeper than usual
"I said nothing, it's not like I'm just leaving you hanging" you let him go, and walk to the kitchen to leave your plate "I'm heading to sleep"
"The heater it's not working, wear something else, keep yourself warm" he walked to you, with his plate on hand "And if you get really cold you can go snuggle with me"
"I'm going to be fine" closing the door you walked to your dresser to find something that will keep you warm through the night.
The noises outside stop and you hear the usual "good night angel" from your friend.
Remembering today's event you become hornier and hornier, you imagine his hands full of tattoos in your throat, slapping your face every time you whimper and imagine how many teases he will put on you.
The night is cold, even with your blankets and the full pajamas you're wearing but you feel the heat in your core.
You can not fuck your friend, cause that will also give you hope. At your freshman year you liked Jungkook, you had a crush on him. As you try reaching he met a girl, and another and another so you forgot about it until it became more than a crush he was the nicest man you could have in your life so you decided to keep it as the best friend and former crush.
Masturbate seems a good option but it's so cold you can't bring out the feeling to it. you begin to toss and turn, sneezing now and then, so you decided to go with Jungkook.
You knock and then come in after not hearing a response, he was shirtless and only covered until the beginning of his grey sweatpants. Walking towards him you try to not wake him as you make yourself a room in his huge bed. He wakes the moment you finished settling.
"Y/n? Couldn't sleep?" denying with your head he offers his arms to you, you give in cause he must be really warm.
He is and you sigh in relief the moment his skin touches your face and the rest of your body. But you can't sleep yet, his slow pace of breath and the feeling of his chest against yours is not leaving your mind.
"I can almost hear your thoughts" his voice it's scratchy and deep
"Sorry" you sighed
"What's wrong?" he whispers in response
"It's dumb, I'm dumb, just go back to sleep"
"I can't you're thinking way too loud" he's still whispering and you found that even hotter but also gives you calm
What is he doing to you?
"Just tell me what is keeping you awake"
"I can't" you shut your eyes when he let go of your embrace
"You can always talk to me" the rain was falling way heavier, the thunder and lightning were more consistent but you could only seem to hear your heart hitting your rib cage
The silence between you two remains until you whisper after a few seconds
"You've been teasing me all day" he laughs
"I haven't done such a thing"
"Don't lie, you teaser"
"That's the problem?" you deny with your head, still eyes closed
"The problem is…" you shut your mouth, but being horny isn't helping with having a good judgment "The problem is that I can't leave the house and go fuck someone so I can forget about your sweaty fucking six-pack"
"That doesn't make you dumb," he says after a few seconds of silence "Look at me" touching your chin you open your eyes slowly
Your cheeks are tainted red and he grins when you look all innocent to him.
"You're not dumb, and… look. I already have told you like a thousand times that we can do it, that I want to do it"
"You've been teasing me because of that?" he laughs
"I thought it will take me longer, but the storm is helping"
You lower your gaze, you don't want to screw your relationship with him, you don't want to ruin anything from him cause you don't know what to do without him.
"Baby, please look at me" your gaze is up again "You're so cute"
"Jungkook─ I-.. I don't think I'm ready to try or if I even want to try-.."
"What are you so afraid of?" you stop your train of thoughts at his question
You remain silent looking at his eyes. And you decide to not be scared, so you open up.
"At freshman when I saw you I was fully amazed by how handsome you were… then you happened to be friends with my old roommate and knowing you, how kind and special you are it made me think that… that I wanted you more than a friend" can't stand his look anymore so you gaze down
"You were dating some girl at the time, so I just stood there waiting, we became closer, you moved in, dated another girl. So I -... I just did the same and made me think that you were like a little brother to look after"
Jungkook can't believe your words by now, he had you before he could know and he lost you without knowing.
He caresses your face with his thumbs and you look at him, he leans in and kisses you slowly.
"You are afraid that I could leave you?" he pulls away and looks at your plump lips then meets your gaze
"Basically everyone leaves"
"You and your abandonment issues, if I didn't want to stay don't you think I would have left a long time ago?"
"I just-.. I thought you didn't have another choice"
"We agreed to be roommates for only a year, and that was three years ago, I want to be with you"
"Is it weird that turns me more on that you give me confidence?" he laughs and peek your nose
His lips are soft and taste so sweet, you lean on to kiss him again and he holds you by the waist, pulls you closer to him. Your legs are between his and you moan when his hand goes to cup one of your butt cheeks.
"Jungkook… please…" you whimper with your hands on his chest
"Please what baby girl? You don't know how to use your words?"
"T-.. Touch me" you whimper between kisses
"Hmm, you want me to touch you? Where?"
You hug him by the neck and one of his hands comes to choke you.
"Here?" you nod while still kissing him "I know that you're kinky… I just wanna find out how much"
He's kissing you, licking at you, biting you, doing all the filthy things that you think, and even more.
After a makeout session, you pull out from him and look at the hair you've been playing with.
"Can I mark you?" he gulps and nods
You start kissing his neck to then begin with the licking and sucking, you go down and lick at a nipple a heavy moan leaves from his mouth.
He sounds like heaven. You repeat your movement with the other nipple and you stop when he grabs you by the neck and pulls your face closer to his again.
"I don't think you asked if you could do that" he asphyxiates you, cutting the run of blood, and he stopped "I am going to eat you out, and if you stay quiet I won't slap you, understand?"
You loved the dominant part of him, his face was almost cute sometimes but knowing that he demands what he wants you to do in bed sends a shiver down your spine.
He pulls your pajama down and drops it on the floor, you feel the cold air until his face is close to your cunt, with his cold fingers he splits your lips apart and looks at you with eyes full of lust.
"Look at this beautiful pussy, all for me to eat" you remain silent, you want to try to attend to his order as long as you can.
He begins by licking at your clit, one hand on your pussy and the other on your inner thigh to help him keep your legs wide open. He sucks at it and it's almost impossible to be quiet when he sets a pace in his licks. You feel your stomach clench at the feeling of cumming, you are so close and you start to let go of heavy gasps.
"You close baby?"
"Yes!" you yelp with a scratchy voice
"Not yet" with a few more licks he stands away from your cunt and smiles when he sees your frustrated face
"Jungkook! don't you da-.." you begin but the slap on your face comes out of nowhere, he holds you strongly by the chin and makes you look at him
"Don't get to cum until I say so, don't challenge me you brat"
He had done this before, the slap was hurting enough but it wasn't intended to hurt in a bad way, you were a little surprised.
He notices you zone out and cups your cheek
"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" his concerned and soft tone brings you back to reality
"No, no, you're just too good at this, I got surprised" he giggles and blushes
"Now I'm going to fuck you stupid" you let out a gasp when he holds you by the back and makes you put your face on the mattress
"Show off" he spanks your ass and loves the way it moves
"You're such a brat, I'm going to fuck you until you cry" you laugh
"Don't flatter yourself" he spanks you again, a little harder
You turn your gaze to him and see his cock on display, he is thick and large your mouth becomes water with just thinking of having it face fucking you.
"Fuck, I don't have condoms" you didn't realize he was looking for them in his drawer
"I thought you said you're going to fuck me stupid, also I take birth control"
"I'm clean I promise" you giggle and shake your ass for him, he spanks it
He puts his cock on your walls and slides it teasingly through your clit
"Just fu-.." in one movement he is balls deep inside you and you moan at the feeling
"This time I want to hear you, let every neighbor know who is fucking you" he runs a hand on your back and then comes out just the middle to begin a tough pace as he strokes against you.
You say his name like a prayer, you moan and yelp so loud you're sure everyone would hear you even with the storm. Starting to feel so close to the edge again you move your hips at a slow pace and bring your hand to touch your clit
"Baby, let me do it for you" he growls at the feeling of your pussy and every thrust becomes a little slower "pussy so wet and tight, you feel so good, baby girl"
His name slips from your mouth again.
"You take my cock so well… mhmm your slutty cunt is so good just for me" the praises he gives and the finger rubbing at your clit make your legs close and he opens them up.
"Is this how you like it? you brat" you yelp when he thrust harshly on you
"Yes! Fuck! You fuck me so well Jungkook!" he spanks your ass and the sensation is making you closer to the verge of falling
He's closer too, the sound of skin slapping against each other and also the sounds that your wet cunt make every time he goes deep again makes him goes faster, by this you can't talk or do more than moan and gasp while he fucks you stupid
You let go of your orgasm with his name and he does it too, you've seen the stars and he has too.
"You're all full of my cum" he helps you turn around as his seed runs down your thighs
Now you're facing him and you take a moment to recover as you feel all full of cum. Your body starts to make spasms due to the overstimulation when you feel his finger sliding his cum back into your pussy. He leans over and gives you a sloppy kiss.
He lets his body fall on the other side of the bed, when you feel recovered you pick up your clothes and go to the bathroom to clean and have a pee. You're all dressed up when you come back. Laying down beside him he smiles at you.
"I'm pretty sure I just fucked you stupid" you laugh and punch him on the shoulder, he's cover in a sheet of sweat and you enjoy looking at him
"Fine, you win this one"
"Feels good when you're not all bratty" you kiss him and he smiles
Remain silent for a while but with the smile all over your face
"What?" he asks after too much silence
"I want to waste my time with you" he hugs you as you give him kisses.
masterlist
©️bangytell please do not copy or steal my work, any translation can't be done this is the only way to read it.
#bts imagines#bts fanfic#bts jungkook#bts scenarios#bts maknae line#bts fic#bts drabble#ksmutclub#jungkook x you#jeongguk x reader#jungkook x reader
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Déjà Vu –Bucky Barnes.
Summary: You and Bucky keep having those kinds of encounters and none of you know how.
Warning: poorly written smut (if you're under 18 please, don't read), unprotected sex (don't do that, kids. be responsible), alcohol, a bit of swearing, i think that's it.
Word count: almost 4k.
A/N: so, this is the first imagine i post here and it also is the first one in english (not my first language) so don't be too hard on me, i tried my best. lack of vocabulary, grammatical and orthography mistakes are all my fault. corrections, feedback and suggestions are always welcome.
Inspired by Déjà Vu –Voilà.
ᴹʸ ᵍⁱᶠ
You weren't sure how it happened, let alone how it all started, but here you were, legs tangled in bed sheets that were not yours, head resting on a pillow that was not yours, the air smelling like a cologne that certainly was not yours, and a strong and now partially warm metal arm wrapped around your waist.
Trying to turn to face the owner of said arm seemed to be the most difficult mission you ever had due to the buzz in your head that made you stop for a second so the room would stop spinning before your eyes.
You knew the headache was going to be bad, except you did not think this bad.
The first clear memory of last night popping in your head: you asking Sam to hand you the fifty dollars of the bet. Of course you were able to drink all those shots and stay on your feet for the rest of the party.
It had started boring as usual. Not that the music was bad or too low, but the fact that you had to attend every single party Tony hosted should be considered torture. You only wanted to go to bed, for God's sake!
The dance floor was full of people, the sofas were all occupied and the bar was not the exception; two bartenders were not enough to keep everyone happy with a drink on their hand.
Still, you managed to have one the whole time you were there and by the time you were taking your ninth shot, you started to feel a little dizzy. Maybe, it was the way you sat up too fast and turned on your heels with a specific destination: the improvised dance floor.
If you were staying, at least you'd make sure it was worth it.
Taking Sam's hand (the one that was not filling your cup with tequila again) and putting the money inside your bra, you tried to guide him to the center of the dance floor but, considering the big amount of people trying to do the same, you decided you'd be dancing somewhere near the sofas where Steve and Nat were sitting, talking.
Your dance moves were all innocent, even ridiculous; arms and hips moving to the beat of the song in a synchronized rhythm, changing your weight from foot to foot slightly to give the illusion of a real choreography, Sam doing the same in front of you.
Laughing at your own movements, you jumped turning to the left, trying to recreate La Macarena –or your version of it– when you saw him.
Dark long hair tied up in a small ponytail brushing the back of his neck, a pair of shorter locks falling to the sides of his face, framing it perfectly; black suit trousers so tight on his legs that you were sure they were going to break at any moment; light blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up his elbows, making him look thicker than usual; vibrant blue eyes sparking like reflectors from where he was sitting; flesh hand playing with a glass of what seemed to be whiskey; vibranium arm with thin golden lines caressing a blonde's tight…
You snapped out of your trance only to evaporate the sweat in your body with the rush of hot anger that ran all the way from your toes to your ears.
Why were you angry? You had no idea. You only knew that it was unacceptable. He could not do that. Not in front of you.
It was until you took a wrong step back almost falling on your ass that you noticed you had stopped dancing. Sam's hand wrapped around your arm to keep you from actually falling. Steadying yourself, you cursed yourself for listening to Nat when she said that you'd look amazing in those high heels. Who would pay attention to your shoes when you were wearing a freaking black strapless dress that did little to cover your body?
The answer was looking right at you, sitting in an armchair next to that beautiful woman, who was talking about something he had lost interest moments ago when his eyes finally met your figure from a far, now traveling down your legs to lock his gaze on your heels.
Even from where you were standing you could see his jaw clenching and his hand forming a fist, the hand that was not tapping the blonde's leg. His drink, now forgotten on the table in front of him.
“You alright?” Sam's question was followed by his hand leaving your arm. You turned to him.
That's when you had the idea. Probably, the worst and best idea you had ever had.
“Yeah,” you said nodding. “We were in the middle of something, right?” The innocent look you gave him made him follow the game.
“We were, indeed.”
“Let's keep doing it, then.” The smirk on your lips, making Sam raise his right eyebrow in confusion.
And it felt as if the universe wanted it to happen, as if the Gods wanted to know what was next because just as you turned again, softly slamming your back to Sam's chest and started swinging your hips against him, the electronic music changed to a song you knew would help you with what you had planned.
“(Y/n), what are you doing?” Sam's laughter rumbled in your ear as you swayed.
“Just dance, Falcon. Have some fun.”
Raising your arms, you gave him permission to place his hands on your hips, which he did hesitant at first. But when he understood (or at least, he thought) that you were only enjoying the music, his grip on you became stronger and more confident. After all, most people around you were dancing the same way.
Opening your eyes, you tried to find the super soldier but in vain. The sofa he and his friend had been sitting on was now occupied by other people and you could only imagine one reason.
The song was coming to an end and you turned again to face Sam, who was smiling at you.
“It was a pleasure to dance with you, but right now, I need to go dust my nose.” You said in a false cordial voice and bowed with exaggeration, placing your hand in the cleavage of your dress.
“Those drinks are making their work already? Ouch!” he complained when you hit him in the shoulder. “The pleasure was mine.” He bowed back and walked to the other side of the dance floor, easily finding another partner to spend the rest of the party with.
You didn't need to go to the bathroom. Not really. That was only the excuse you gave to finally head to your room and take off that dress and heels that were killing you.
You hadn't taken three steps out of the party when you felt a hand close on your arm and drag you up the stairs.
In all honesty, if his grip wasn't that firm, you could have fallen on your knees more than once on your way to where the bedrooms were.
Only when the door was closed behind you was when you noticed you were not in your room. The bed was perfectly done and the nightstand didn't have your current reading on it. You were in Bucky's room.
Blurry memories of previous visits filled your head like flashing lights: your hands tightly clutched around the headboard, your feet slipping from the edge of the bed, your back pressed against the wall, your knees and elbows buried in the mattress. It felt like you'd been there a thousand times before.
Bucky wandered around the room like a lion inside a jail, his steps heavy against the floor and his hands trying to pull back the hair tickling his cheeks.
With a loud sigh, he finally turned and almost ran in your direction. The look in his eyes was something you've seen somewhere before.
“Wha-- what the fuck you think you were doing back there?” His question took you by surprise, even though it shouldn't have. It had been your main goal all the time.
“'Doing' what? What do you mean?” You decided that playing dumb was the best way to get on his nerves and apparently, it was working.
The super soldier bit the inside of his cheek trying to keep his composure. He was not having any of it.
“Don't try and act all innocent, as if you didn't know you were practically offering yourself to Sam with that stupid dance of yours.”
“I'm surprised you even noticed,” Taking a step ahead, you shortened the distance between you two. You knew he wouldn't find you intimidating, but at least he'd know you weren't afraid of him. “when you were too busy lifting the little skirt of that girl up her legs.”
His eyes darkened and he took a step closer, his face staying only a few inches from yours.
“'Little skirt', uh? What about this pathetic attempt of a dress?” His hands traveled from the sides of your breasts to your hips and stopped at the hem of the dress (that was too short for your liking, but you weren't going to tell him so).
“Sam seemed to like it.”
Faster than you thought was possible, he gripped the hem and drew you towards him, making your smaller form crash against him, your lips barely touching his while he leaned to be at your height.
“Do I look like I care about what he likes? Not even you care about it.” His grip on the dress had softened unconsciously. “I know all you wanted to do was to make me all bothered, except you did not think I'd fix that with someone else, someone better.”
With all your strength, you pushed him back by his chest –which only caused him to take three steps back of pure shock– and your right hand landed on his face with a SMACK!
If his eyes were dark before, now they were on fire. Anger and something else that you couldn't decipher radiated from his pupils.
“Fuck you, Barnes.” Your voice, nothing but poison.
Bucky started to shorten the distance again and you didn't know what to expect: Him yelling at you? A punch? Both? Either way, you were prepared for anything.
Or so you thought.
His metal hand took you by the waist pressing your bodies together and his flesh hand traveled to the back of your head to push your face to his in a hungry kiss.
At first, you were surprised. That was not the kind of smack you were wanting for. Not that you were complaining.
His tongue wanted to make its way inside your mouth but you wouldn't open it, so he took a handful of your hair and pulled, making you whine at the feeling and finally parting your lips just enough for him to do as he pleased.
You tried to resist, how much you wanted to but oh, if it was impossible. So you let yourself get lost in the kiss.
The familiar sensation in your lower belly and the way your legs trembled told you that you were fucked and before you knew it, you were gasping for air. Seemingly, you had forgotten how to breathe while Bucky's lips devoured yours in such a feral way.
With a quick movement, Bucky let go of your hip and hair and his hands went directly to the back of your thighs, indicating you to jump and cross your feet on his lower back, which you did gracefully despite the amount of alcohol in your system.
At no point your lips separated, not that any of your wanted them to.
Your hands intertwined in the back of his neck and pulled his hair softly making him groan in your mouth. It was not difficult to get rid of the hair tie, and once it was gone, Bucky's hair fell to the sides, brushing your face.
Bucky moved to the bed and sat on it, keeping you on his lap, straddling him. His hands moved all along your legs, just the way you imagined he did with his friendly friend back in the party and your blood boiled.
Pulling his hair again, but with more strength this time, you separated his face from yours, looking into his eyes with what he interpreted as disgust.
“Really think that Barbie is better than me?” you asked, your heavy breathing causing your breast to rise ang go down rapidly.
Bucky smirked, clearly enjoying the view of you asking such a thing. “You know I don't, doll. Just gotta make sure you don't forget I'm better than him.”
Having said that, the sound of a zipper opening was audible and soon the cold air of the room hit your back.
You recognized the feeling of Bucky's hands traveling from your thighs to your waist under the dress, to end up pulling it off of your body and tossing it across the room. It, falling right in the same spot they always did. Your lips, only separated when you rose your arms to take off the dress.
It was Bucky's turn to pull away, eyes glued to your bra. Its intense red color was driving him crazy, but not as much as the thong, which was far from being a proper piece of underwear, covering your drenching cunt.
With a quick movement, Bucky undid your bra, letting it fall past the bed with the fifty dollars slipping right after. And as if you didn't feel too exposed already, his hands ripped the thin sides of your remaining clothing, dragging it from behind, causing the fabric to rub against your clit roughly. You closed your eyes when a moan escaped your lips.
The sound of the fabric tearing apart bringing a memory of that night you were feeling waisted.
“Hey! Those were my favorite!” you had said right after he ripped your baby pink lace panties.
“Not anymore.”
Bucky's lips traveled from your jaw to your neck, finding that spot that had you trembling in his lap.
Deciding he was wearing too much clothes, your hands found their way from his still covered shoulders to his chest, looking for the first button, willing to unfasten it but once you realized it was going to be a more difficult task than you had expected, you decided to give him a payback for what he did a few weeks before.
Grabbing the shirt tightly, you pulled it, causing the buttons to fly out in all directions, clacking against the walls and floor.
“Are you kidding?” Bucky's mouth was no longer on you. “It was really expensive!” His eyes, telling you he wasn't lying. You almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
“Not anymore.”
A knowing look took over his face. He also remembered.
“Nice one, doll. Let's see what else we can reprise from that day.”
Taking you by your ass and making you gasp, he stood up and turned to the bed, throwing you into the center of the soft mattress the second he was fully facing it. You felt small compared to him, his big frame taking off the now useless shirt obstructing the view of the rest of the room for you.
Watching him undo his belt and pushing down his pants and boxers at the same time was too much for you to witness. You closed your legs trying to relieve the sensation between them.
“No, doll. Don't do that, that's why I'm here.”
His palms massaged your ankles, both flesh and metal hands cold, taking off your heels.
His delicate touch was killing you, you wanted him to go higher, to go faster, to touch you where you needed him the most.
And it was as if he read your mind. His face lowered to rub his nose against your left leg, placing a kiss in your ankle and traveling up your thigh with his chin rubbing your skin. His facial hair tickled you but you didn't mind. You liked the feeling.
His face was at the height of your core and he knew by the way you buckled your hips that you were soaked. He didn't need to check to be sure, he could smell it.
Wet kisses and purple hickeys adorned your stomach by the time his mouth reached your breasts. One, he massaged with his metal hand, the coldness provoking goosebumps to run all over your body. The other was being attacked by his tongue and sucking lips.
When his teeth bit your nipple, your back arched and one of your legs slightly raised having minimal contact with Bucky's hard dick. The pressure of your chest against Bucky's mouth, muffled a groan coming from his throat.
With a soft pop he released your tit. “You know?” he asked, opening your legs and positioning himself between them. “As much as I'd love to take my sweet time with you, I can't wait to fuck you into oblivion.”
His tip was leaking precum already, you swore you saw his member twitch the second you bit your lower lip.
He started teasing you, rubbing his shaft from your entrance to your clit repeatedly, coating himself with your juices.
“For God's sake, Barnes, just do it!”
That was everything he needed to hear to finally enter you, stretching you out with his hardness without any warning.
A loud scream was swallowed by Bucky's lips when he leaned to kiss you. Tongues fighting for dominance in a heated battle.
His vibranium hand had yours pinned above your head, immobilizing them and keeping you from moving, from touching him. Flesh hand next to your head, preventing his full weight from crashing you.
Seconds passed until he felt your body adapting and accepting the new intruder, that's when he began to move, a slow pace at first, it felt like he wanted to make sure you were really there, too caught up in the painful pleasure he was feeling.
He separated from your face, enjoying the moment, you were just fascinated looking at his expression.
When a particular deep trust hit your g spot, the moan that left your mouth brought Bucky back to reality. His eyes opened in a snap and what you saw in them made you want to run away from that room and to stay under him forever at the same time.
Lust and hunger danced on his eyes, fire and need distilling from his pores.
The concentration look in Bucky's face gave you the second best idea of the night.
“C'mon, Barnes.” Containing a cry, you murmured. “I know you can do better.” Saying that you knew was more of an affirmation than a comment in the heat of the moment.
An arrogant smile drawn on Bucky's lips was followed by him quickening his pace. His now warm metal hand let go of yours to take control over your hips that were bucking up to meet his, accompanied with the hoarse sounds coming out of your mouth. He pinned you down with his fingers buried in your flesh, surely leaving some dark bruises to remember his excellent performance.
One of your hands flew back, trying to hold onto something for dear life while the other scratched, with black painted nails, Bucky's back. Meanwhile, he kept pounding you harder with each trust.
“You like it, baby girl? Bet Sam can't do it as good.” His words were dry, forcefully said along with one of his hands finding you where your bodies connected and pressing your clit roughly to prove a point.
It was talking all of you to find a coherent sentence to give as an answer. The way his body slammed yours, creating a delicious clapping sound, having your full attention.
“Wouldn't be so sure about that.” You almost whispered in a voice you didn't recognize as yours.
“Really?” One particular deep trust hit that sweet spot again making you arch your back and clench around him. A high pitched sound leaving your lips and a low groan leaving his. “Cause, from where I see it, it is me who's giving you the time of your life.”
He repeated the action again and again. Your breasts bounced up every time your bodies collided.
“Fuck.” Bucky's lips kissed your shoulder, his breath made you shiver and the feeling of his teeth grazing your hot skin causing a new memory to pop in your brain.
“God, you're perfect.” His hands squished your butt cheeks and moved you up and down to keep you riding him.
“Is that what you say to all the girls you get laid with?” You rolled your hips, challenging him to tell you.
“I've only said that to you, doll.” His words muffled in your neck followed by an assault of bites and dark marks.
He resumed the movement of his fingers against your clit, faster and applying more pressure this time.
“Ugh, just like that, yeeees!” A single tear of ecstasy fell from your eye, ruining the white pillowcase with the smallest stain of eyeliner.
As pleasure took over your body, you struggled to keep your eyes open. Your mouth parted and let a sinful groan fall from it when your orgasm finally hit you.
“Yes, baby girl, cum for me.”
Your clenching walls enveloped him so tight that his movements faltered for a second. He quickened the pace, riding you out of your release and spilling inside you, coating you with his seed.
An experimental trust before he pulled out of you made you cry out. Both your juices and his cum dripping in the now ruined bed.
Bucky rolled to his side and pulled you closer to him, embracing you in a hug. Your breathing, slowly returning to normal.
“Damn, we're gonna regret this in the morning.” You affirmed half asleep, resting your head on Bucky's chest.
Your head position didn't let you see Bucky's sad smile. “Yeah, we will.”
Once you turned your whole body to Bucky you couldn't hide the confused look that took over your face. You didn't remember how you got there, let alone why you were there. Why was it happening to you again?
Watching him like that, so peaceful, it almost made you feel bad for what you were about to do.
“My God, Barnes, let go of me!” you said loud enough to make him open a lazy eye trying to focus on you, the sound of your own voice increasing the pain in your head.
“What are you doing here?” His raspy voice did things to you in ways it shouldn't.
“That's an excellent question. I'd like to know the answer too.”
He sat, the sheet falling from his shoulders to where his public hair started. Immediately, you turned to the ceiling.
“Last thing I remember is you dancing that silly Friends routine with Sam and then… a smell of coconut.” That was the scent of your body wash.
You knew you were naked, except your brain didn't process what that meant until then.
“Ugh, not again.” You covered your face with your hands, trying to keep the sheets at the height of your chest with your arms to cover it as much as possible. “This can't keep happening.”
“Why not?” His question was followed by a yawning. “It is always good to wake up to your back pressed against me.”
#don't let this flop#please#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky imagine#bucky barnes x you#bucky x y/n#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes smut#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes one shot#one shot#james bucky barnes#bucky infinity war#sebastian stan funny face#marvel#james buchanan barnes#marvel cinematic universe#sebastian stan#sebastian stan smut#sebastian x reader#sebstan#bucky fic#breen writes
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All the Write Places
Pairing: Javier Peña/Reader
Word Count: 3,041
Warnings: Mentions of canon typical violence, some use of (Y/N)
Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell
A collection of letters between the Reader, who is still in Texas with Javier’s family, and Javier while he’s hunting Escobar in Columbia.
Mi Amor,
It’s Javier again. I know it’s been too long since my last letter, but the DEA doesn’t want any of my personal information to be intercepted. Steve is doing well. He and Connie just adopted a baby. I think her name is Olivia.
I’m sorry I haven’t called in a while. It’s for the same reason I don’t write all too often. I can’t wait to see you again, I promise it will be soon.
Yours forever, Javier.
P.S. keep an eye out for a package.
———
My Javi,
I miss you so much my dear. Your last letter brought me to tears, and I’m over the moon about the package. The jacket is huge on me, but it smells just like you. You be sure to give the Murphys my love, and kiss their little girl for me.
Things are alright here at home. Your mother treats me like one of her own kids, and it’s very sweet. Your father has begun to teach me Spanish, and your cousins constantly ask about when their Uncle Javi is coming home.
We all miss you, but I miss you most my dear. I can’t wait to see you again.
Yours truly, (Y/N).
———
Mi Amor,
The Murphys insist I tell you Olivia is doing well and has received your love. The hunt is long, but the promise of you waiting for me at home is a sure comfort.
I apologize, but I must keep my letters short. Just know that I love you and I will be coming home. I promise.
Yours forever, Javier.
———
Mi Corazón,
I know you must keep your letters short, but your mother insists you write more. She misses you dearly. I don’t think she understands the gravity of your job. Your father understands. He is worried for you, and his brother helped him rig his radio to listen to the Colombian news. Every time I hear that name, I shiver. He’s a horrible horrible man, and I cannot wait to see him rot in prison.
To keep this letter happy, I want to tell you your sister is pregnant! She’s overjoyed, and so am I. I know you won’t be home to meet the baby, but I’ll send photos, just as I always do.
I love you my dear. I’ll wait for you to return to me, no matter how long that is.
Yours truly, (Y/N).
———
Mi Amor,
The pictures were just what I needed. They are in my apartment, and I put the one of you and my parents on my desk so you’re always with me.
Tell my sister I’m proud of her and cannot wait to meet my niece or nephew. With luck, we’ll be home soon.
I’m sending another package for you and the family. I love you.
Yours forever, Javier.
———
Mi Corazón,
The pregnancy continues to go well, and the kids loved your package. I’m glad you enjoyed the photos.
Unfortunately, I don’t know when I’ll be able to write again. I know it’s hard for you, but my mother just passed, and I’m headed back north for the funeral and to spend some time with my dad. I’ll give them your love, as always.
I wish you were by my side, Javier. The days seem so long without you.
Yours truly, (Y/N).
———
Mi Corazón
You shouldn’t have called me Javier. It was risky, for the both of us. However, I do so desperately miss your voice. I’m glad I got to speak with you.
I promised I’d write when I returned to Texas, and I am home beside your family once more. They’re all jealous I got to speak with you, but the adults understand. Your mother especially understood, and made me swear to tell you she wants you to call for Christmas.
Javier, if at all possible, please listen to that annoying American station on the radio, you know the one that’s obsessed with 50’s music? We listen every night during dinner, and it would warm my heart if I knew you were listening too.
Give Murphy my love. Tell him I can’t wait to meet him one day.
Yours truly, (Y/N).
———
Mi Amor,
I apologize for the call, but you must understand why I risked it. I couldn’t have you grieve alone, not without me to help you through that pain.
I do know the station you wrote about, and I agree it’s annoying. The boys at the office like it, and it’s on while we work. Knowing you listen to it too, it makes my heart swell. One day, we’ll listen to those old songs together, I promise.
My letters will be few and far between, and I apologize. Things are getting worse here, but I vow to return to you alive and whole.
Yours forever, Javier.
———
Mi Corazón,
You mother has decided our song is that Bobby Darrin song that plays every day. The one about the man who’s away from his woman and wishes he could grow wings and fly to her side? Beyond the Sea, she says it’s called.
Your father always changes the station when he thinks we’re all asleep. He listens to the Colombian news, and I think he prays. You said he doesn’t miss you, but he does. He absolutely does.
In other news, your sister is about ready to pop. She’s always complaining about how much her back hurts, and she’s adamant that the baby is staying in all nine months only to make her suffer. I’ve enclosed pictures, because we all painted her stomach and it was hilarious.
I hope to hear from you again before Christmas. The holidays haven’t been the same without you.
Yours truly, (Y/N).
———
Mi Amor,
And I thought my family decorated for Christmas. Columbia has some of the nicest holiday decorations I’ve ever seen. I tried to get Murphy to photograph them, but they didn’t turn out quite right. I’ve sent them anyway.
Tell my sister I cannot wait to meet my niece or nephew. I’m sure that tiny bundle of joy will be just what you need over the holidays.
The Embassy is allowing me to call on Christmas, and I’m allowed to stay on the line for as long as it’s safe. With the precautions they’ve taken, I might even be able to talk with you for hours, my love. I cannot wait. It will be the best Christmas present, being able to hear your voice.
Yours forever, Javier.
———
Mi Corazón,
I don’t know when this letter will reach you, but the baby came today! Only a day before Christmas. Your sister is pissed that she’ll be spending Christmas in the hospital, but the baby, a beautiful little girl, is so cute. She’s lifted everyone’s spirits, and the promise of your call tomorrow is only making them happier.
I know this will be our reality for as long as it just be, but I want you home Javier. It sounds selfish, I know, but I want you beside me, no matter the price. Please come home soon, my love, or I fear I may forget you.
I’m eagerly awaiting your call. I’ll talk to you soon.
Yours truly, (Y/N).
———
Mi Amor,
Hearing your voice was just what I needed today. I assume I’ll be receiving a letter soon that tells me my sister had her baby, but I couldn’t wait to write.
My love, I have a surprise for you. Before you get excited, I’m not coming home soon. The fight only grows harder, and I don’t know if I’ll be home for years. But I found you a gift, one I know you’ll adore. I must be there to give it to you, in person. I know, how cruel of me to deny you your gift for what may be years. Just know, I will never forget it. It sits on my desk and Murphy teases me about it relentlessly. One day, I’ll give it to you. One day.
I’ll see you again, my love. I swear it.
Yours forever, Javier.
———
Mi Corazón,
Your last letter stunned me Javi! You must’ve written that as soon as we hung up. As for the gift, it will be aging waiting for it. Am I allowed to guess? Will you tell me when I get it right?
Your mother was a bit disappointed you couldn’t be with us for Christmas. She made an absolutely heavenly apple pie that she said is your favorite.
The baby grows stronger with every passing day. Maybe one day, she and the Murphy’s little girl can be friends. I think they’d like that.
I’ll see you soon Javier.
Yours truly, (F/N).
———
Mi Amor,
This will be hard to hear. I’ve had trouble simply writing it, and I know it will be hell to read. I have to stop sending letters. One of the DEA’s men wrote a letter to his wife, and two days later he was found dead in a river. It won’t be forever, and I will still receive every letter you send me as long as you keep mailing them they way you are, but we cannot risk anyone finding me right now.
To answer your previous question, yes. Please guess what the gift is. I bet you’ll never be able to guess.
I’ll write as soon as I can.
Yours forever, Javier.
———
Mi Corazón,
Not knowing whether you’ve received my letters will be torture Javi. But, as you’ve told me many times, I must remain strong. I will admit I cried when your last letter arrived, but then I imagined you sitting next to a radio, listening to our song at the same time I did, and it was like you were beside me. I miss you dearly Javier, but I will remain brave until your next letter arrives.
Until then, I will simply have to keep you updated. The baby is almost three months now and starting to be a troublemaker, just like her uncle. Your sister jokes her first word will be ‘Javi’ with how much we speak of you around the house.
I also heard, via phone, that Connie is back in the states with Olivia. She says Columbia was just too much, but promised to come and visit me. Give Steve my condolences, I know it must be hard.
Until my next letter, I love you dear.
Yours truly, (F/N).
P.S. Is the gift that book I spoke of over Christmas?
———
Mi Corazón,
Another month, another letter. Now, I make no effort to conceal myself when I listen to the Columbian news with your father and mother. Your mother cries, and your father prays. Sometimes I cry with her, and sometimes I pray with him. It’s hard, not knowing who’s reading this letter first.
Connie came to visit, and she brought Olivia. She’s such a sweet thing, and she adores your cousins. She told me about what she’s seen, what’s happened to her, and I wish for you home more than ever. It sounds horrible, her retellings coupled with the news I barely understand, it sounds awful. The price on your head, and yet you walk around anyway. Please, my heart, be careful. I cannot lose you.
Yours truly, (Y/N).
P.S. This guessing game is such fun. Your sister gave me an idea. Is your gift a camera? I doubt it is, but she wanted me to ask.
———
Mi Corazón,
I apologize for not writing for months. I was traveling to visit my father. He had a health scare and wanted me by his side.
The baby is almost eight months now! Her first word was ‘Javi,’ and we all had a big laugh about it. It’s painful not having you here, or at least having letters.
I listen to our song every night, whenever it’s on the radio. Your sister teases me for it, but I don’t care. It connects me to you. To makes me wonder if some day, we could have a future where there’s no threat, where we could be together.
Please promise me Javier, you won’t get involved with any of this dangerous shit happening in Columbia if you can help it.
Yours truly, (Y/N).
P.S. is the gift jewelry? Your mother thinks it’s a ring.
———
Mi Amor,
I have another torturous request. Please stop writing. Your last letter was intercepted by his men and it was almost very bad. Before I go, please know I listen to our song every night. Tell my sister I love her and her tiny troublemaker, my mother I wish I were home, and my father I’m grateful for the prayers. As for you, I miss you so much my love. I tried to delay the inevitable, but we must stop communicating. I love you, no matter how far apart we are. I’ll write as soon as it’s safe.
Yours forever, Javier.
P.S. No it isn’t the book, no it isn’t a camera, and yes it is jewelry.
———
Mi Amor,
Are you still the same person I wrote to years ago? How’s my sister and my niece, and my parents? How are you? And your father? Murphy and I are good, if a little stressed, because I know you’ll ask.
Things have gone maddeningly quiet. He’s gone, it seems. Disappeared, but I’m sure the radio told you. I know you asked me not to get involved, but I did, and I think I’m in trouble for it. Big trouble.
Anyway, I may be home soon, depending on how it all goes. I cannot wait to kiss you again.
Apologies for such a short message after years of nothing. I missed so much, you’ll have to tell me all about it.
Yours forever, Javier.
———
Mi Amor,
Please tell me these letters are reaching you. Are you still with my parents? Should I call? I think I will, at the end of the week. It’s Monday now. I guess I should tell you, right?
I received good news for you today. They’re sending me home. I know, he isn’t dead yet. But every action has a consequence and unfortunately mine are sending me home before my job is done. Murphy is understandably upset. Yelled for almost twenty minutes about how it wasn’t fair. I’d put my life on hold for almost a decade to catch Escobar, it was only right I was there when he was brought down.
But life isn’t like that, and I’ll be on a plane home in a week or two. I can’t wait to see you. I hope you’re still waiting for me.
Yours forever, Javier.
———
“Mi hija?”
You looked around, seeing Javier’s mother come out for you. The tinny radio playing your song flickered next to your leg. It was on repeat, on a CD Javier’s cousin had burned for you. You’d taken to sitting on the porch swing after dinner was over, simply to take your mind off things. The letters were stacked beside you, the newest one on top. You hadn’t had the energy to even open the new ones. What could you possibly say after years apart? Who would he be? Was he still your Javier?
“Mi hija?”
“Yes mamá?”
Javier’s mother sat beside you. “There’s a new letter in the kitchen for you.”
You smiled. “Okay.”
Standing and gathering your letters and the radio, you followed Javier’s mother into the kitchen. It was warm, and there was an envelope with your name on it resting on the counter.
Picking it up, you turned it over to see two tiny words scrawled across the back.
Open me
You popped the letter open, seeing a small card inside.
The porch. Hurry, before the sun goes down.
Confused, you headed back outside, where the sun had just begun to paint the sky. There was someone on the porch swing, rocking back and forth and humming your song, the same song that was playing from the radio by his side.
The creak of the porch door brought his attention to you, and you immediately put your hands over your mouth and sobbed. “Javi.”
“Mi amor,” he said, standing and wrapping you in a hug. “Oh how I’ve missed you. I promised I’d come home.”
“You did,” you said weakly, collapsing into the hug. “Oh Javier, my heart I’ve missed you.”
Javier kissed the top of your head, smiling as you pulled away a bit. “May I have this dance?”
You laughed, beginning to sway as Javier swayed, both humming your song.
Eventually, once the sun had set completely and the Texas stars were out, you and Javier separated, sitting together on the porch swing.
“Oh,” Javier said, standing suddenly. “Your gift!”
You smiled. “You forgot?”
“I was too busy with something else,” Javier said. “But I think I’ve made you wait long enough, mi amor. Close your eyes.”
You did, closing your eyes and hearing him shuffle in front of you. After a minute of silence, Javier spoke. “Open your eyes.”
Opening your eyes, you gasped. Javier was on one knee before you, holding out a gorgeous ring. “I knew,” he whispered softly. “I knew the minute I received your first letter that I wanted to marry you. If we had been married all those years ago, you would’ve been able to come with me, to have me by your side. And now, if you’ll have me, I want to remain here, with you at my side and with me at yours, for the rest of my life. No more letters, my love.”
You nodded, crying as you practically threw yourself into Javier’s arms. “Yes!” You said happily. “Yes!”
Javier smiled, sliding the ring onto your finger. A perfect fit. “Now we’ll always be together,” he said, kissing your knuckles. “Always.”
Kissing Javier firmly, you nodded. “Always. No matter what.”
And you did stick together. The day he got sent back, you packed a bag and boarded the plane right beside him, ready for whatever horrors would await you. He didn’t want you going, but you insisted. Together always, no matter what.
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PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 5
Rating: Explicit.
‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.
Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!
A/N: Revenge is sweet but a well-timed dick joke is sweeter. xoxo gossip girl. Please supervise one Bucky Barnes on the internet. Questionable music taste. Detention is the price we pay for justice. Bruce Banner is too precious for this world, too pure.
THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem
Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! 🎶🎵I love you biiitch ain't ever gonna stop loving you biiitch 🎵🎶
"Initiate phase one," I added a growly undertone to my whisper, holding my phone inconspicuously, as if I was making a simple phone call. There was no answer but I didn't expect one: I was testing the voice recorder app that I had downloaded for the sole purpose of documenting and relaying the inevitable fall of one Flash Thompson.
Making my way through the crowd of students during the busiest time of the day, I made the most intrigued and outraged facial expression I possibly could. Spying my targets, I leaned against a nearby wall, putting a hand over my mouth in fake outrage, keeping my eyes wide and trained on the opposite wall. Just as I had predicted, the two sophomore girls started giving me side-eye by minute two of my staring and finally approached me as I contemplated the wall for whole five minutes.
"I'm sorry, are you okay?" The brunette asked, her blonde friend hanging a step back.
"Yeah, totally," I mumbled. "I'm, like, shook beyond imagination, but nothing, like, bad."
The girls traded a curious look, seemingly coming to some sort of conclusion. The greedy gleam in their eyes had me internally cheering. "What happened?" The blonde one asked, coming closer.
"I'm not sure if I should tell that to anyone," I stammered, watching them bodily move forward. "Well, okay, I can't keep quiet. But you must never, ever speak of it or I'll get expelled or something," I said nervously. They both nodded so rapidly it reminded me of Funko Pop figurines. "You know the senior guy, Flash? Brown hair, kinda hot?" Again, they both nodded, conspicuously grinning. "I think I just saw him in the closed girls bathroom on the third floor with, like, some brunette from Ms. Johnson's History class," They both gasped. Predictable. "But that's not the worst! They were like, y'know," I made an obscene gesture with my hand and they instantly covered their own mouths with their palms in shock. "And the chick was like 'is it in yet?' and he was like 'yah' and I just closed the door and ran, oh my god I hope they didn't hear me," I squealed at the end, playing the part of a mortified teenager.
All three of us giggled uncomfortably for a moment. The blonde girl stared at me suspiciously. "And what were you doing there?"
I faked a nervous stammer, looking around briefly and showing them my lighter for a moment. They both gasped and nodded in recognition. "Don't tell anybody or my mom is going to have kittens," I pleaded. Both of them nodded solemnly, noticing their own group of friends approach. I used the brief moment to get lost in the river of pupils and by the time they turned around to introduce me, I was already at the opposite part of the hallway.
For the time being, everything seemed peaceful. There were a few giggles and side-eyes directed towards Flash Thompson but nothing out of the ordinary. He was disliked by most of the student population even if nobody dared to admit it outright. I took care to walk around without my earbuds for the day and pulled out my phone to record the most interesting conversations around me whenever I caught the tell tale signs of a gossip mill beginning to run its course around the school.
"Oh my god, I heard about this girl that was caught fucking Flash in the girls bathroom and she literally said 'is it in yet', can you imagine the shock, jeez!"
"Some chick literally just rejected Flash because his dick was too small."
"Rebecca from AP chemistry told me someone saw Flash's micropenis. Poor guy!"
"I wonder if his girlfriend dumped him because he can't do shit, I mean, he doesn't look like the type to eat the kitty."
Those were just the highlights of the Friday afternoon. Come the weekend and the news of Flash's unfortunate condition will make the rounds through every single group chat that the school has and by the time Monday rolls around, nobody will have a clue who started the rumour in the first place. I had to carefully select the girls who were to distribute the rumour and I was happy with the outcome: Marissa and Layla with their squad of chatty, bored rich girls were the perfect choice. I thought they would jump at any opportunity to cause drama and I was right.
It was sufficient to say I was bristling with pride as I cut and compiled the audio track from today's school day before sending it to the group chat.
Clint, Peter and Natasha appeared online as soon as the message delivered and I was delighted at their response. Romanoff's kind words, specifically, made me all warm and mushy inside. I didn't resist the feeling, basked in it even as I did a happy dance around my room. Peter's nonsensical string of emojis was another point of laughter for me.
It wasn't exactly the smartest way to go about killing Thompson's reputation... Alas, simplicity is the way to success when it comes to large crowds of teenagers. That tiny little vindictive part of me was very much looking forward to the weekend and the results of the inevitable distortion of the rumour I had started. Who knew, maybe by Monday Flash Thompson would not only have a micropenis but horns and hooves as well.
Near bedtime, I had all the avengers send me their regards and thumbs up. I answered the flurry of texts as quickly as I could but there was no point in keeping up with ten or so people constantly streaming their questions, opinions and comments.
I settled on a single easiest response: pulling my dad's old uni sweatshirt over my tiny lacy pajamas to preserve some modesty, I settled in front of my mirror, turning on my Bluetooth speaker to play "Boss Ass Bitch". In true gen-z fashion, I put on my best resting witch face and solemnly lip-synced to the song's eponymous chorus. My eyeliner was sharp enough to cut paper and my prismatic highlighter glittered enigmatically in the cold light of my blue lava lamp.
The response was, once again, delightful and I genuinely belly-laughed at the adults' attempts to meme after Peter. His blushy face emoji started a whole nother conversation that I didn't participate in but watched from the sidelines with glee, snorting every time his friends and mentors gently teased him about the very obvious crush he harboured on me.
Seeing Peter starting to go absolutely nuts, I interjected with an offer (more like a dare) of a lip sync battle. He jumped on the bandwagon, immediately going offline to undoubtedly film an epic video of what I thought would be dorky-dancing to some hipster song. I was pleasantly surprised when it turned out to be a pre-recorded tik tok video of him and Ned fighting with lightsabers while mouthing the words to Fergalicious that played over the Imperial March.
Weirdos. I still followed him on the app, though, it was pretty funny.
Bucky interjected with a very well executed rendition of "Bring Me to Life": he was wearing his full Winter Soldier get-up, complete with an AK-47, dramatically serenading Steve who looked seventeen shades of done with his partner's antics. Wanda's following twenty second voice message consisted of nothing but pure hysterical laughter, summing up everyone's reaction to the video. Bucky was going to go viral one of these days...
Obviously, I had good competition and nobody else seemed to want to participate so I rearranged my surroundings a little bit and stood up at my full height and swapped the old sweatshirt for a cute crop-top hoodie. My thigh-highs were on display and with my make-up, I looked like a proper internet e-girl. I leaned against the mirror as I mouthed along to the song with my best interpretation of the famous Lucifer smirk, seasoned with a tiny bit of angelic innocence: "Doctor, doctor, give me the news, I got a bad case of loving you..."
Needless to say, I won the competition. Eventually Wanda joined in, looking menacing and ominous with her dark clothes and Natasha's red hair flashing somewhere in the background; even Tony did a round (AC/DC as his soundtrack of course) with one of his Iron Man suits but nothing beat my stunt and the reaction that it caused.
I had accidentally called out Bruce with the choice of my song and his teammates gave both of us a lot of cheeky comments about it. We relented and flirted with each other a bit as the conversation flowed into more mundane discussion; I said my good nights somewhere between Tony's bitching about the hobbies of my generation and my nightly skincare routine. The little green heart that I'd become accustomed to over the past few weeks greeted me just as I was about to lock my phone.
Bruce was really too precious for this world. My crush on him was different than the one on Tony, it mellowed out in comparison. I wanted him to hold me, to stroke my hair, to call me his darling and wrap me up in one of those dorky button-ups that he insisted on wearing in spite of Tony's unwanted, however very valid, fashion advice.
For all that's worth, the scientist probably knew or at least suspected and had the good grace to play along just enough to satisfy my deep need for attention... Without crossing any actual lines. It was frustrating, it was disappointing but I had virtually nothing to complain about. Besides, I didn't want to lose the quirky friendship that we had. Banner was, probably, the least judgemental person I knew and I wasn't about to trade that for an awkwardly stolen kiss.
Monday and Tuesday passed in a flurry of giggling and snorting every time Flash walked by. His girlfriend broke up with him, very publicly, accusing him of cheating and he didn't even deny it - just insulted her and stormed off, leaving even his friends looking lost and clueless. I started dragging Peter and his two pet nerds along with me just about everywhere I went in case Thompson decided to do something stupid again. If judging only by the looks he was throwing our little company, he was on his way to figuring out who began nibbling at his reputation.
The week was coming to an end and the rumour began dying off, slowly. That just didn't sit with me, I wanted the fucker gone. Due to the obvious time constraints, I approached MJ regarding Peter - after a brief argument, we came to an agreement regarding Peter's safety should I need to leave him alone in the hallways or at lunch.
I needed to do this alone so if I got caught, I won't drag them down with me. Granted, I would probably get something like a suspension and the school will attempt to call my mother (she never picks up) but that's about it. That's where her reputation comes in handy-people consciously avoid dealing with her, she can be that unbearable.
But first, I needed to get a teacher that's on my side. After carefully considering the candidates, I settled on my Social Studies professor - he taught the college-level classes and was overall a very chill, nice dude. And he disliked bullies with a flaming passion. So it didn't take me long to work him into a righteous fury - just a quick chat over a cup of tea in his homeroom and a few pictures of Peter's bruised face, complete with my own pleading puppy eyes. We agreed Mr Davies would "accidentally" leave the teacher's lounge unlocked during third period and I would sneak in. The plan wasn't foolproof but if it worked, not only Flash, but also his whole misogynistic, bigoted family would go down.
As I was leaving, Mr Davies looked up at me with a bright smile: "Give them Hell, alright?" And I suddenly noticed he was, in fact, very attractive. The smile brought out the fine wrinkles around his mouth, the crow's feet around his eyes - he smiled a lot. Silver strands mixed in with the wooden brown of his hair.
I let my eyes slide over him briefly before baring my teeth in return. "I owe you one," I don't know what possessed me to say that. My mouth really had a mind of its own sometimes. The room suddenly became hot.
"Sure," He replied, totally oblivious.
On Friday, I made myself a small nest in the empty classroom opposite the teacher's lounge and sat waiting for the signal from Mr Davies - he'd tap on the door once and I'd quietly go inside the teacher's lounge, retrieve Thompson's file and make my way back to the empty classroom to grab my backpack and carry the file to my locker for further examination.
The first part went successfully and I managed to snag Thompson's file. It was heavy and hefty, all the evidence of his rowdiness compiled into one flimsy plastic folder. There were A LOT of pink slips and I rejoiced internally: at least there was a paper trail of his exploits. The principal didn't do anything about it which was... If not against the rules then at least frowned upon; the plan was to take copies and anonymously submit them to the school board prompting at least an investigation into the blatant disregard for Flash's immoral and illegal behaviour.
On my way back I stumbled upon the principal herself which got me not only a stern talking to, but a whole detention for skipping class. Whatever, I was too elated from potentially ruining the life of a dumb fuck who ruined my friend's face.
Surprise came in the face of Mr Davies, who, having heard the commotion in the hallway, stepped out of his class and saw me being lectured by the principal.
"I'll take her for the detention," I heard the familiar voice behind me. The principal nodded solemnly and I had no choice but to sigh in resignation. "Three thirty, be here," He nodded to me, walking back, looking way too smug for his own good. So I wasn't the only one excited about the successful completion of stage two of my nefarious plan. Cue evil laughter.
#tony stark x reader#tony stark x y/n#bruce banner x y/n#bruce banner x reader#stephen strange x reader#Stephen Strange x y/n#bun writes#party favours#author doesn't advocate for small dick jokes but tbh the abusive fucker deserves it
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Chérie (Bucky Barnes Imagine)
yoncexl submitted:
Can I have a enemies to lovers with Bucky? Pleaseee where y/n is a sunshine and Bucky a grumpy old man tysm 💖💖
Anonymous said:
64 from the prompt list w Bucky? hehe love u (“I think your cat wants to kill me.”)
PROMPT: Bucky doesn’t understand why Y/N is always so happy. He never thought he would be one of the people who got entranced by her until he was.
Warnings: fluff, some language
Song: Cherry by Harry Styles
-
Sure, maybe Bucky was being irrational. It wasn’t like he meant to be annoyed by your bubbly personality but how could someone be so goddamn happy all the time?
Clearly there were more things to complain about and mourn than there was to celebrate. You were in the midst of a pandemic, Steve came back as a wrinkly old man, you lost two good friends, the world was burning to ashes and yet, here you were. Happy as a peach.
You squealed loudly, interrupting a napping Bucky in the common room, after ripping open the 70th package (It was more like 4th package but Bucky liked to exaggerate) you received in the mail. He opened his left eye, wanting to revert back to the moments before your arrival when there was peace and quiet. He saw you stare fondly at the new record you just bought. Another pop album, he assumed. That’s all you ever listened to.
“Do you mind?” He huffed, twisting his body to face you. His eyes were now wide open, unable to return to his peaceful slumber. “Some of us are sleeping.”
Bucky knew he didn’t really have a right to be mad at you. He had his own room to take naps in and he could easily just walk over and do just that. He just liked giving you attitude, hoping you’d return it one day. But that day was not today.
“Sorry,” You blushed, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Just got carried away. Look what I got.”
Bucky’s expression remained cold. It was a sight to see, really. The young, bright, and cheerful expression on your face. The wide smile traveling from your lips to the crinkles by your eyes. Your head was peeking up above the large record in your hand.
And then there was Bucky. Big and built, hair in disarray, with his lips pressed in a thin line. His arms were crossed on his chest, biceps prominent. He stared at you with a blank expression, counting the seconds before you finally retreated the record you shoved in his face.
“I wanted to get the limited edition one but that was sold out.”
Harry Styles: Fine Line, he read the tag on the corner of the plastic. The name was familiar. He remembered it displayed on the car radio in the last mission you two shared. Bucky remembered the loud, off-key, singing of you and Peter in the backseat of the car, as he sat beside a driving Sam. Sam wasn’t a fan of the music but he was a fan of seeing Bucky’s irritated expression so he let you and Peter control the music for the four hour drive back.
It was hell.
You finally removed the record from his space and admired it. You sighed in adoration, clutching the disk close to your heart. You began to pick up the scraps of delivery papers that littered the floor and started walking towards your bedroom.
Finally, Bucky sighed in content, some peace and quiet.
Just as a small smile started to form on Bucky’s face while he started to get comfortable again on the couch, a faint noise was heard from down the hall. He groaned loudly, grabbing one of the couch cushions to cover his ears. Of course you’d play it the minute you got it to your record player.
It didn’t fully drown out the noise in the background, irritating Bucky some more. So much for sleep.
He wouldn’t ever admit it to your face but your music wasn’t that bad.
-
“Uhhh, Buck?” You questioned from behind him. He rolled his eyes, earning a slap on the arm from Sam. Be nice, that’s what his look told Bucky. “I think your cat wants to kill me.”
“That means I taught him well.” Bucky muttered under his breath. A part of him didn’t want you to hear it, but he secretly hoped you did.
“Dude.” Sam smacked him behind his head. “Really?”
You laughed wholeheartedly, emerging from the kitchen with Alpine in your arms. “Never mind, he just wanted me to pick him up.”
Bucky’s eye twitched upon seeing you cuddle with his pet. He wasn’t necessarily jealous, per se, he was just aggravated that everyone and everything seemed to love you. It was like they all gravitated towards you and he didn’t understand why.
Okay.. maybe he did. You were a good person. Nearly perfect, even. But that’s why Bucky didn’t like you. There was no way someone could ever be that perfect.
Firstly, it wasn’t really fair. Nobody should ever be this like-able. Or kind. Or funny. Or pretty. Or strong. Or passionate. Or fucking perfect. It was really just unfair.
Secondly, Bucky knew he had some problems. He knew he didn’t really think much like everyone else. Sam called him mentally unstable for not being able to be civil with you, more than a few times, and Bucky actually agreed. Had he met you before all of this happened, he would’ve liked you. Hell, he may have even had a crush on you because back then he was like you. He was hopeful, the “glass half-full” type of person. But after everything that happened in his life, he changed. He just didn’t get how you managed to always look on the bright side even when the world was crumbling at your feet.
It was Alpine’s purring that snapped him out of his thoughts. The cat was now rubbing against his calf after you put him down to exit the room. Bucky smiled softly at the cat that Steve got him a few weeks ago. Alpine licked Bucky’s metal hand a few times before making his way to his little cat bed in the common room.
“You need to play nice.” Sam warned him, taking a sip from his coffee mug. “I still don’t get why you hate her so much.”
“Something about her seems off to me.” Bucky shrugged, cleaning up his finished plates. That wasn’t necessarily a lie. “I don’t know.”
“No,” Sam replied, following Bucky’s actions. He dumped his plates on top of the ones in Bucky’s arms. “Something about you is off.”
He glared at his friend who was already halfway out of the room before he tried to call out for him to do his own dishes. Bucky accepted defeat and made his way to the kitchen to start washing the dishes. He saw your washed dishes placed neatly on the drying rack, clear that it had just been washed. He silently thanked you for always cleaning up after yourself. His eyes drifted to the pile of dirty plates that slowly accumulated from the Avenger’s breakfast festivities. Unlike the rest of them, he sighed.
Bucky placed the plates down for a quick moment to retrieve his phone and airpods from his pockets. He unlocked it and searched through the Spotify app. He started to look at the rest of the Avenger’s playlist. For a special agent who valued confidentiality, you sure did want people to know exactly what you were listening to. Bucky learned to turn that feature off after Sam bullied him after he saw that Bucky was listening to the Hairspray soundtrack.
His eyes locked at your Spotify playlist. Hmm, he thought, why not? Bucky pressed at the familiar title of the album the link took him to. He inserted the airpods in his ears and hit shuffle.
The songs made the chore of cleaning up after the Avengers a little less tedious.
-
You were silently reading the new book that came in your subscription box on the balcony of the tower. Nothing could be heard for miles besides the sounds of nature and the faint noise of cars passing by the highways.
Most of the team had gone out to get dinner but you opted to stay in and get caught up with your book. A blanket was draped carelessly over your legs, shielding your bare legs from the cold. You turned the page, your thumb finding its way between your lips. It was a habit you could never seem to break. You did it subconsciously, especially when you were deep in thought or extremely focused on something.
You were engrossed in your book, not hearing the knocking that came from the other side of the balcony door. Bucky looked at you from behind the clear, sliding door. He squinted trying to read the cover of the book you were reading. It was different from the one he saw you reading a month ago. Your ability to read and finish books quickly intrigued him since he was someone who could never sit in a chair without fidgeting, much less read a 300-something page book.
He realized he was staring for far too long. Bucky entered the balcony and cleared his throat, causing you to drop your book and look up at him. You offered a warm smile, “Hi, Buck. What’s up?”
“Me and Wanda are ordering in,” He explained, his eyes drifting to the cover of your book. Only Love is Real by Brian Weiss, he noted in his head. “Did you want anything?”
You pondered the question for a minute, “Maybe some fried chicken.”
“Okay sounds good,” He replied. “You should come in soon, it’s getting late.”
You looked around. It had gotten significantly darker than when you first came out. The lamp beside you that helps you with reading masked the sinking sun. “What time is it?”
Bucky pulled out his phone to check the time. You caught a glimpse of his lock screen, eyes growing wide when you noticed the too familiar song and album cover in the front. Cherry by Harry Styles. “9:21PM.”
He looked up to see you fighting back a small smile. His eyebrows furrowed, staring back at you. You noticed his worried look and immediately straightened up. “Thanks, Buck. I’ll come in soon.”
Bucky nodded and turned around to return back into the compound. You stayed quiet about what you saw but you couldn’t help the large smile overtaking your features. You’ll tease him about this one day, just not tonight.
You focused back on your book, your mind becoming one with the words on the page again. You spread out the blanket some more to cover your legs better and cuddled into the softness of the outdoor sofa. The sounds of the city was being drowned out, however, by the faint sounds of strings and the French voice of Camille Rowe.
-
“Y/N ordered another package.” Sam laughed, picking up the boxes left at their doorstep. “Oh, hold on a second.”
Bucky’s head perked up at Sam’s words knowing that there’s going to be some teasing that will follow. The mundane boxes were almost, always yours. You were the only one in the tower who liked to spend your money on things like clothes, accessories, and sometimes snacks. The rest of the team just ordered it from Stark Industries and it would magically appear in their compound in less than 24 hours.
“Did you order something from Ebay, Barnes?”
He snatched the box from Sam, grunting in response to his question. “Isn’t it a federal offense to go through people’s mail?”
“No, it’s a federal offense to open people’s mail. There’s a difference.”
Bucky rolled his eyes and brought the package to his room. Once the door was shut, he let himself smile at the brown box in his hands. He sat down on his bed and started unwrapping it. His eyes glossed over the vinyl record. Limited Edition, the sticker on the corner stated. It was the one you told him about.
Maybe it did dent his bank account more than he would have liked it to but he knew you would love it. He was just sitting in his bedroom and he heard you quietly sobbing, a few nights ago. If he didn’t have super-soldier hearing he would’ve definitely missed it. It was quiet but it was there.
The familiar tune of Cherry played from your record player. Bucky sat up in his bed, not knowing if he should come in and comfort you. It was the way that you halted your sobs, to make yourself more discrete, when the song ended, that broke his heart into pieces. He couldn’t stop himself from getting up his bed and walked over to the room beside him.
Before he could knock, he stopped himself. What would he even say to you? He just stood there in front of your bedroom door, not knowing what to do next. He hasn’t necessarily been the kindest to you, even when all you’ve been was pleasant. He really didn’t have the right to even try to comfort you.
He sighed sadly and retreated back to his bedroom.
So now here he was, three days after that night, with the vinyl you’ve wanted for a while, that he paid extra for expedited shipping for. Bucky dusted off the plastic covering of the vinyl and made his way to your room. His plan was to place it on your bed and walk away, he wasn’t expecting you to be there. You were supposed to be on a mission.
Bucky’s eyes widened, frantically hiding the vinyl behind his back. Your eyebrows furrowed, looking at him confused. “What are you doing here, Buck?”
“I thought you were out.”
“Decided to stay in. What are you doing here?” You asked again. “Not that I don’t enjoy your company and all, but I’m just curious.”
Of course, Bucky thought. Only you would be trying to assure him that you enjoy his company when he invaded your privacy by barging in your room. “I have something for you.”
Your eyes lit up at his words. You turned to face him on your bed, your legs criss-crossed. “You do?”
Bucky extended his arms out, showing you the vinyl that he got for you. You gasped, leaning over to touch it. Tears welled up in your eyes, words getting stuck in your throat. “I hope you like it.”
“Oh, Bucky,” You sighed, holding the vinyl by your chest. “I love it.”
“I’m glad.” He said nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as he answered you.
“Why did you get this for me?”
“I heard you the other night,” He confessed, taking a seat beside you. “I heard you crying. I-I was gonna come in and try to comfort you but I don’t really have much expertise on that. Plus, I haven’t really been the nicest to you, I wouldn’t know where to start to try to make you feel better. Then I remembered you talking about this record. Music seems to make you happy, I think, so I bought it.”
You placed the vinyl safely beside you and engulfed Bucky in a tight hug. He was stiff for a few seconds, not knowing how to respond to such physical affection, but he later warmed up. His arms wrapped themselves around you, letting himself bury his face in the crook of your neck, smelling your sweet perfume. You heard him sigh under your touch and you started to wonder when was the last time he was held like this.
“You’re amazing,” You murmured in his shoulder, pulling away. You kissed his cheek sweetly, a blush creeping up your cheeks once you saw the redness on his. “Thank you, Buck. I can’t explain how much this means to me.”
He smiled at you, genuinely. It was the first time he smiled at you without it being partnered with a smart, witty remark. It wasn’t sarcastic or anything, just pure fondness. “Anytime, Y/N.”
You two just sat there staring at each other for a few moments before he cleared his throat and got up. “I should leave you to it. I know how you like to listen to records the minute you get them.”
Your heart swelled at his words. You never noticed how much he actually paid attention to you. “Wait, Buck. Do you wanna stay and listen to it with me?”
He took a look at you, staring up at him with hopeful eyes. He was silently hoping that you would ask him to stay but now that those words did leave your lips, all the life was winded right out of him. You liked his presence. He would be lying if he said he didn’t love yours.
“Let’s see what all the hype is about.” He teased, taking a seat beside you again.
“Oh you’ll love it,” You smirked, remembering the time you saw that he was listening to the album on his phone. “He’s great.”
“I doubt it.”
You continued to fight off the goofy smile on your face as Bucky tried to act like he hasn’t listened to the album before. You looked at his expression when the familiar tune of Cherry started playing. You pretended to look away, getting on your phone to look busy. Your eyes looked up at Bucky who was discretely mouthing the words to the song.
#Bucky Barnes#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes fluff#winter soldier#winter soldier imagine#winter soldier one shot#winter soldier fluff#bucky barnes x yn#bucky barnes x reader#winter soldier x yn#winter soldier x reader#marvel#marvel imagine#the avengers#frances writes#frances song fics
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HANDMADE HEAVEN PART ONE
Pairing: Steve Harrington X Hargrove!Reader
Summary: In which the new Queen of Hawkins High finds herself falling for the fallen king.
Song: Easier by 5 Seconds of Summer
Warnings: swearing, asshole parental figures
Words: 1.7K
MASTERLIST
feedback is always appreciated
The house itself was fine, not pretty and polished like the one she grew up in, but at the very least she was grateful not to be sleeping in another motel bed filled with broken springs and anonymous stains. Susan greeted her like a good little home maker, tightly waved hair bouncing against her shoulders as she walked down the steps of the porch.
"How was it, sweetie?" The ginger woman waited with pursed lips while her step daughter stood from the vehicle. She really hated that car, it stood out like a sore thumb next to her husband's silver SUV, especially when her brothers parked alongside the two.
"Not the worst." Y/N shrugged. She missed the silent solace already, "Has Max decided which room she wants?"
Susan nodded, leading the blonde into their new home, "She's at the back opposite your father and I. William hasn't arrived yet so you have the choice of the one next to hers or ours."
Without hesitation she chose the one next to Max's. Her father helped unload her heavier furniture from the U-Haul currently fixed to the back of her red muscle car. The room was in the shape on an 'L', mirroring her step sister's. Her small double bed only just managed to fit in the crook, creating a cosy space to drift away in.
Hours of rearranging the room passed before a navy blue Camaro could be heard pulling up onto the curb and a muggy sunset made itself present in her bedroom window. Emptying out her socks into the small drawer of her dresser, Y/N dropped the empty black bin liner behind her and rushed to greet her brother.
"Billy!" She squealed, attacking him with a hug. The two would roughhouse and swear at each other like drunken sailors, but their love for each other would always be the first thing anyone noticed about the twins. He picked her up with ease and spun her around, quickly dropping her to the floor again.
Y/N's twin would sometimes forget the rude masculine persona he put on and actually behaved like himself, but it never lasted long with their father close by.
"See that hunk of crap didn't kill you on the way here then?" Billy joked as they both carried a bed frame into his new room. His distaste for the nineteen-sixty-eight Mustang Cobra was evident whenever it came up in conversation, only due to it being left to her rather than him in their mother's will.
"Not just yet." His sister hummed and the two let out a huff as they dropped the mattress onto the wooden frame. They talked about the bullshit of finishing their senior year at a completely different school and what that we're going to dress up as for Halloween. It was their favourite holiday and this year she planned on being Tom Cruise from Risky Business. Nobody would understand it but it was better than Billy's 'slutty teen boy' costume he wore most days anyway.
"Y/N/N honey, could you come into the lounge!" Susan's sugary tone rang through the house. The twins shared a look that always subconsciously found their faces when she attempted to play doting step mother.
Fucking doormat of a woman.
"Coming." The blonde shut her brothers door on the way out and walking down the hallway into the small living area. By now any remnants of the sun had long hidden away from Hawkins and only warm ceiling lights lit up her face.
Susan appeared from the kitchen door with a tray full of oatmeal cookies, grin etched into her features like puppet strings pulling at her cheeks, "Try one, would you?" She gleamed, pushing the metal tray out for emphasis, "I'd ask your father but he'd just say they were nice, never wants to upset me. He's too good."
Not wanting to answer, Y/N took a small crumbly cookie and bit into it, eyes bugging out at the statement only able to nod in response.
The step mother watched in anticipation, hair bouncing at her shoulders as usual, "So, gorgeous? Be honest with me, how are they?"
"Really good," She didn't like the woman, but couldn't deny her ability to copy a recipe, "I think these may even top the peanut butter ones."
Susan's sterile smile managed to stretch further and Y/N was scared her lips may crack and bleed from the force, "Perfect! We're handing them out to our new neighbours tomorrow. Which reminds me, I need you to get some new trainers for Maxine tomorrow, nothing expensive though, they're just for gym class. She's a four now.
The blonde resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and instead nodded while an idea popped into her head, "I drove past a giant superstore on my way here, I'm sure they're still open I can just go now."
"Are you sure, honey?" Susan sounded concerned, but Neil didn't share the same feelings, "Curfew is eleven until you start school on Monday, same rules apply here."
"I know, Dad." She nodded curtly and turned on her heel, not wasting a moment grabbing her brothers old khaki bomber jacket and her car keys. The front door shut just as quickly as it opened, leaving the small U Haul sitting on the driveway next to Billy's Camaro.
It had been her brother's favourite jacket since he was sixteen, but he'd gained so much muscle his arms couldn't slip into it anymore. Although Y/N was tall for the average girl, the material still managed to shroud her frame.
Y/N felt amazed after managing to get to the store fairly easily, she picked up some plain black pumps and paid for them with cash, pocketing the receipt to make sure Neil would reimburse her. That took less than fifteen minutes. There were still over two hours until she needed to be back at the house and she needed to make the most of any freedom from her father.
She was her mother's daughter and the opposite of Susan Mayfield-Hargrove; if someone showed themselves as a thorn and not the rose they seemed to be, they were a thorn. She could accept it and move on, which is difficult when they own the house she calls home. Her step mother was a fixer, finding wilted petals and taping them up against the thorn to appear more sightly. If Neil was the thorn, Y/N the rose, then Susan was a daisy in a field where she didn’t belong.
The younger Hargrove twin decided to explore her new home, driving around cul-de-sacs and roads which mirrored one another. After a while of aimless driving, Y/N parked up at the side of a quiet road, seeming to back onto a rich neighbourhood. She locked the muscle car, Ellie, and began walking on the edge of the road.
"Stay put, El." She whispered to herself, echoing her mother's voice. Meredith Hargrove always swore her car changed parking spaces whenever they went somewhere together.
Y/N couldn't imagine having so much space, no family was big enough to make use of it all. Her feet brought her into the small forest area, passing a few more eccentric gardens before finding one which intrigued her. The lights were all off, moonlight bouncing off the unmoving water in the centre of the garden.
Swimming had always been something the Hargrove girl not only loved but turned to in uncertainty. Billy would surf alongside her a long time ago, but he hadn't for years now. Her eyes danced around each room, unable to see any kind of life within the mansion. Against Y/N’s better judgement, she left the tall trees and let her toes edge onto someone's private property.
It seems a shame not to.
Fallen leaves stopped crunching under her brown boots as they found concrete slabs. The family must have employed a cleaner and gardener as nothing seemed out of place or dirty. The water was clear and not a single leaf or bug lay on its surface. Crouching down, her fingers drifted along the water, creating a small ripple, confirming her suspicions of how cold it would be.
She didn't care, stripping down into her underwear in the cool autumnal winds, anyone would've thought she was a crazy person. Y/N ignored the small ladder next to her and gracefully dived into the pool, swimming down to the bottom until she needed to come back up for air. The blonde lay on her back, staring up at the stars wondering what her friends were doing on the other side of America. Probably at Sadie's getting high.
Y/N wasn't sure how much time had passed, her fingertips were now wrinkled but it didn't bother her. She was in her element, so much so she didn't register when the kitchen light turned on and alerted the homeowner of someone in their pool.
Steve's body was overcome with terror as he did a double, triple take out of the kitchen window at the figure in his garden. He only wanted some leftover lasagne. Grabbing his nail punctured bat, the home alone teenager unlocked the back door, and against his own better judgement, creeped towards the intruder.
As he came closer, he was thankful to find a girl than a demogorgan, a girl he certainly didn't recognise. Her blonde hair lay on top of the water like a halo as she floated in her own world.
"Hello?" He questioned, bat still firmly in hand, "Why the fuck are you naked in my pool?"
Y/N left her mini trance, flailing in the water as her eyes found a teenage boy wielding an odd weapon, only a scream leaving her lips in response.
part two?
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#fanfic#fanfiction#stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#billy hargrove#hargrove x Harrington#Steve Harrington#Steve x reader#Steve imagine#Steve Harrington imagine#fluff#imagine#stranger things fluff#stranger things fanfic#stranger things imagine
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Whether you’re a Superman, a judge, a mom, or a dad, we can all appreciate the avant-garde genius of Laurie Anderson, the topic of this week’s installment of Great Albums! Find out what made Anderson’s breakout hit the most unlikely chart smash of the 80s, and what the rest of this amazing LP has in store, by watching my video or reading the full transcript below the break.
Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! Today, I’ll be discussing one of the most unique and unforgettable albums around: Big Science, by Laurie Anderson. It’s very possible that you may not necessarily recognize her by name, but this album’s big hit has been riffed on and re-used many times throughout Western popular culture, so when I play it for you, it just might seem hauntingly familiar.
Music: “O Superman”
Put simply, “O Superman” is not your conventional pop hit, by any stretch of the imagination. It features little more than a sparse, barren electronic instrumental, and Anderson’s eerily vocoder-treated voice, not so much singing as acting out a one-woman stage play. It has much more in common with the avant-garde, minimalist works of 20th Century “modern classical” composers like Philip Glass and Steve Reich than it does anything you would hear on pop radio in the 1980s.
While you might assume that it entered mainstream consciousness through being used in some art film, it actually was a bona fide pop hit--particularly in Great Britain, which has always had a pronounced affinity for surprisingly weird chart entries. While the single was initially given only a small release, like most of Anderson’s earlier work, the prominent British radio DJ John Peel discovered it...and fell in love with it. And thanks to his frequent playing of it on the air, a lot of other people fell in love with it too, propelling it to #2 in the UK charts. I think it’s a testament to just how different the media landscape used to be, once upon a time in the 20th Century. Nowadays, the radio doesn’t really have room for idiosyncratic tastemakers like Peel, and the independent DJs who remain certainly don’t have the reach that Peel did. I suppose it’s the 20th Century version of sea shanties and other oddities becoming trends on social media.
But anyway, setting aside the strange legacy “O Superman” has as the world’s least likely hit single, we can appreciate it perfectly well as a moving work of art. “O Superman” is not really a pop song, but what it is is, perhaps, a desperate plea for comfort and protection. The figure, or concept, of “mother” seems to be the focus of the text, and serves as the apparent “final resort” of its insecure, searching rhetoric. We get this idea in a microcosm in the famous opening line, inspired by an aria by Jules Massenet: “O Superman, o judge, o Mom and Dad.” It’s an appeal to any and all higher powers, but culminates with perhaps the most primal, intuitive authority we can understand: our parents. Towards the end of the piece, the narrator begs to be held in the arms of “Mom,” but they’re described not as soft and warm, but “automatic,” “electronic,” and “petrochemical,” creating an uncanny conflation of innate human connections and the harshly artificial, technological conditions of modernity. Have we made the promises of technology and science into some sort of idol, looking to them for reassurance, and projecting onto them a goodwill or benevolence like a mother has for her children? Themes of high technology, as well as the search for safety and security, are found throughout the rest of the album, as is the stark, minimalist instrumentation.
Music: “From the Air”
Expanding somewhat on the references to aeroplanes found on “O Superman,” opening track “From the Air” is narrated by the captain of a doomed flight, instructing the passengers how to handle the imminent “crash landing.” It’s many people’s very worst nightmare, and plunges us straight into the sense of fearing for our lives, in a situation that’s completely beyond our control. A bold move for the very first track we hear! “From the Air” leads with somewhat plausible suggestions, like a very dated request that passengers “extinguish all cigarettes,” but gradually becomes increasingly surreal, adding to that nightmarish feeling. Anderson delivers her lines with a palpable sense of authority, that stirs you to want to obey her character even as they prove their unreliability. A taut, unresolved saxophone-driven ostinato throughout the track provides a constant sense of tension and anxiety, which certainly suits the mood. Until the end of the song, at which point it abruptly cuts off--presumably to represent the crash occurring, and the sudden deaths of those on board.
I like to think of “From the Air” as a sort of dark counterpart to “O Superman,” the latter of which is the opening track of the second side. While “O Superman” deifies technology as a source of maternalistic comfort, “From the Air” presents us with the ultimate failure of technology: slick and polished until the end, but unable to provide any real hope of meaningful security. That human desire for security is interrogated more directly on the final track of side one: “Born, Never Asked.”
Music: “Born, Never Asked”
While “Born, Never Asked” is much more laconic than tracks like “From the Air” and “O Superman,” it’s no less probing and thought-provoking, presenting us with a world of people who are, fundamentally, “free”--and yet deeply unsatisfied. “You were born,” quips Anderson, “and so you are free.” But we’re all too busy asking for a bigger answer, and some explicit, deeper meaning to our existences, that we can’t appreciate the simple freedom to live our lives however we want to, in the absence of any overt goals. The track begins by establishing a stately, handclap-driven backing, which serves to underscore the plainness or simplicity of its message, and is ultimately overtaken by a mournful violin outro--perhaps the embodiment of our emotional turmoil, as we seek the comfort of clear answers despite the fact that they never arrive. If only the world were as simple and well-defined as it seemed to be when we were children, filled with unthinking and unconditional love for our mothers!
“Born, Never Asked” asks us to question what it really means to be “free,” and whether or not it’s even satisfying or helpful to possess “freedom.” It’s worth noting that all of the pieces that comprise Big Science were chiefly intended as part of Anderson’s much longer magnum opus, entitled United States, which she completed in 1984. In that context, criticism of the value of “freedom” is perhaps also criticism of certain traditional American moral values. While “O Superman” prominently mentions “American planes,” I think the track that has the most to say about being American is the title track of the album.
Music: “Big Science”
The title track of Big Science takes us to a desolate and mostly empty landscape, defined more by its potential to be moulded into something habitable than anything it already, innately is. It’s a frigid perspective on America as terra nullius, a wasteland filled with nothing but ultra-recent and ultra-artificial capitalist “developments” as opposed to any real history or meaning. With its chilling coyote-like howls, and nods to Western movies and dependence upon cars, it can easily be contextualized as particularly American, but ultimately, the human drive to “improve” our environment through questionable (and perhaps even destructive) means is fairly universal. Much like the emotionally unsatisfying sense of freedom bestowed upon those who are born, in “Born, Never Asked,” the title track of Big Science shows us a world full of endless possibilities, but devoid of any true happiness born of those possibilities.
The term “big science” dates back to the Mid-20th Century, and has been used to describe the increasingly large scale of many significant scientific efforts, particularly those supported by world governments...and particularly, their militaries. During and after the Second World War, it became increasingly necessary for nations that wanted a place on the world stage to rope science into the military-industrial complex, especially in light of the development of atomic weaponry. Given the album’s thematic emphasis on the way we look to science and technology to provide some aegis of protection, and often in harmful or destructive ways, it’s a very fitting choice for the title.
I think that connection to the nuclear bomb is also an important key to interpreting the album’s cover art. On the cover of Big Science, we see Anderson lit very harshly from the right--so much so that her sunglasses are rendered completely white by the powerful light. While her pose is very deliberate, and perhaps even stilted, she appears to be raising her arms as though to shield herself from whatever is casting this bright light. Is Anderson perhaps portraying an atomic scientist, observing a nuclear blast with its signature burst of radiant light?
Overall, however we interpret this gesture, the black and white imagery and completely empty backdrop seem to pair well with that sparse and minimalistic instrumentation. Anderson appears on the cover with her signature costume, a solid white suit which, when paired with her short hairstyle, gives her a somewhat androgynous appearance. It also looks a bit like a labcoat, often worn by scientists and doctors--figures who culturally embody the principle of benevolent authorities backed by the power of technology and science.
Whenever artists who only briefly felt the spotlight of mainstream success are discussed, it can be tempting to ask whether or not such figures “deserved” more or better. In the case of Anderson, though, she never expected “O Superman” to become the breakout hit that it did, and never followed it up with anything actively pursuing the pop charts. In the wake of her most famous work, Anderson went right back to doing what she had been doing: making great, but totally avant-garde, art. She’s a figure of “art music,” and the “art world,” through and through, performing her elaborate multimedia works at museums, appearing in a number of festival-circuit art films, and accepting honourary degrees. Anderson has had a perfectly successful career, dwelling precisely in the realm of her choosing, and I don’t think there’s any better outcome than that. If you like Big Science, you’ll find plenty more striking and evocative works throughout the rest of her long and ongoing career.
Music: “Sharkey’s Day”
My favourite track on Big Science is “Sweaters.” With a Celtic-sounding melody, a grating fiddle, and perhaps the most vocally hated musical instrument of all time, the bagpipes, “Sweaters” is a dirge about an ancient subject: falling out of love. But despite its backward-looking folk setting, the jump from “I no longer love your eyes” to “I no longer love your sweaters” anchors it into the realm of the totally mundane...if not banal. Overall, though, what I think really makes it stand out on the album is its sense of levity. As I’ve discussed earlier, Big Science is loaded with really heavy themes about technology, Americana, and the meaning of life...so a song that’s not only about a romantic relationship, but also about sweaters, pens, and pencils, jammed into the middle of the first side, really feels like a sort of palate cleanser while you’re listening to this. That’s all for today--thanks for watching!
Music: “Sweaters”
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