#//i remember laughing my ass off at how relatable steve is

[i-hate-people-1]

It touched me!

You and the gang spend Labor Day at lovers lake things don’t go as expected.

Lowkey fixit Eddie is very much alive and they kicked Vecnas ass!

Warnings~anxiety attack

Words~2k

Not my gif

It was Labor Weekend, and you and the gang had decided to spend the day at Lover's Lake, much to Eddie's chagrin.

 

"I don’t know if you guys know this, but I’m not really made to go to the lake," Eddie whined as you guys were unloading his van and Steve’s car of your supplies. "It’s hot and the water is icky!” He exclaimed

 

"If you’re hot, just take your shirt off," Dustin told the boy, shrugging.

 

"Are you messing with me, Henderson? Eddie questioned, pausing to motion to his body, "Have you seen me? My skin is not equipped to handle the sun. I look like a ghost and a vampire had a baby."

 

"Sunscreen dumbass," Steve said, rolling his eyes.

 

“Yeah, I put sunscreen on you before we left. I can reapply some if you want," you told him, rubbing his back soothingly and trying to calm him down.

 

"That’s very sweet, baby, and I appreciate it so much, but we could always just pack up and go home. I’ll let you rub whatever you want on me as soon as we’re back safe inside." Eddie pleaded with you as you laughed at his antics.

 

“Ew, shut up, Munson," Robin told him, filling his arms with stuff to carry to your spot. He grumbled, still complaining to himself as he walked away.

 

"Any chance he actually shuts up?” Robin asked you, shaking her head as you two grabbed the last of your stuff.

 

"Eddie? Never," you answered the girl laughing as you walked to the spot the kids had picked out, all already in the water splashing around. Dustin and Steve were the closest to the shoreline, trying to talk a stubborn Eddie into getting in the water.

 

“Nuh uh nope no way," your boyfriend said, shaking his head, arms crossed over his chest. "That water is icky, and there’s like a ton of fish in there, and where there’s fish, there’s fish pee, not to mention the dead bodies that could be in there, and do you guys remember when we found that creepy ass gate at the bottom that led into the upside-down? Eddie finished flailing his arms around as he shouted.

 

“Look, dude, if we stopped going to every place we saw something related to the upside down, we’d literally never go anywhere in Hawkins ever," Steve said, laughing at the boy.

 

"Eddie I promise you everything is okay. Just come in, please." Dustin begged

 

“Eddie, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I’m going, and I’m sure if you do, you’ll have fun," you told him, coming up to stand beside him as Robin ran past you both jumping and tackling Steve into the water.

 

"My hair!!!" The boy shouted as he popped his head back up from under the water to find Robin and Dustin laughing hysterically. "You’re both dead!" he shouted, running after his friends.

 

“See, it’s fun," you told him, moving in front of him, arms wrapping around his neck. His hands rested on your waist as you leaned in to kiss him gently.

 

“Ugh, this is so not fair; you know how hard it is to say no to you," he said as you pulled away, "especially when you’re in that skimpy little bathing suit."

 

"Tell you what you get in the water and have fun with us, and I promise I’ll make it worth your while later." You raised your eyebrows and smirked at him.

 

Clearly, your proposition worked, as the boy's face lit up like a Christmas tree: "Come on, baby, what are you doing? Let's get in this filthy cesspool!” He told you to run into the lake, slapping your ass as he passed you.

 

You just laughed, joining him and your friends in the water.

 

Eddie had only been in the water for maybe twenty minutes, clinging to you like a monkey for most of it as he got freaked out anytime a fish swam past him or grazed his leg. He had just let go of you when another fish swam by.

 

"It touched me, it touched me, ew ew ew ew!” Eddie shouted panicking as he wrapped his arms and legs around you. Once more, his eyes squeezed shut as he clung to you tightly.

 

“Eddie, sweetheart, it’s just a fish," you told him, gently squeezing his hand to offer him any assurance you could.

 

“Yeah, Munson, calm down." Steve laughed as you glared at him. "Shut it, Harrington," you told him sternly. He just put his hands up, backing away to join the kids.

 

"Do you want to get out? You asked him

 

“No, I mean yes, but I don’t want to make you get out," he whispered, eyes still shut tightly, head resting on your shoulder from behind.

 

"Don’t worry about it, I’ve gotta make lunch. Come on, you can help me," you told him. He just nodded, letting you go as he started out of the water towards the stuff. You followed after him, stopping when you got to the shore. You turned around, asking everyone if they were hungry. They all nodded.

 

You and Eddie made everyone sandwiches. You had spent so much time with these guys that you knew exactly how they liked them.

 

Eddie was quiet as you made them, which was unlike him, but you just chalked it up to him still being uncomfortable about being In the water, after you finished, you called everyone up to eat.

 

"What’s on the menu?” Robin asked, popping her head beside Eddie's.

 

"What Buckley, it’s obviously sandw-“ Eddie started, but was cut off when Steve popped his head on the other side of Eddie.

 

"Let’s hope it’s not fish. Munson might have a heart attack," Steve said. All the gang started laughing as Eddie rolled his eyes.

 

"Ha ha, very funny," he said sarcastically, pushing the pair away from him.

 

"Leave him alone," you scolded. They pouted, taking a seat and eating the lunch you had made them.

 

After y’all finished eating, you and Eddie cleaned up while your friends went and played in the water. After you finished, you took a seat next to the boy on the picnic table.

 

"You should go out there with them and have fun," Eddie told you, nodding towards the water and your friends.

 

"Are you sure I really don’t mind sitting up here with you?" you said.

 

“Yes, go, I’ll be fine," he answered.

 

“Okay, I’ll come to check on you in thirty minutes, thank you," you said, jumping up and kissing him on the cheek before running towards the water.

 

 

It wasn’t like he wanted to be like this; he wanted nothing more than to go out there and have fun with his friends, but every time something touched his foot, his heart would stop for a second, and he swears he was about to feel the sting of one of those bats ripping into his flesh or one of those creepy vines pulling him into that hole back to the upside-down, take his friends, take his life, or worse, take Y/N. It was crazy. He knew that they had stopped Vecna and El had closed the gate, but he couldn’t stop worrying about the what ifs.

 

He watched them out there laughing and having fun. He wanted to be a part of that so bad, but after everything that had happened at that lake, he hadn’t been doing this as long as you guys. It affected him. Damnit, it did. Every time he even looked at the lake, he had a mini anxiety attack, but being in it freaked him out.

 

He hadn’t realized how zoned out he was until he heard the sound of your laugh. It was an angelic sound. One of Eddie’s favorite things about you was your laugh. It made him smile until he looked up and saw the reason you were laughing. you Dustin Steve and Robin were playing a game of chicken. Robin on Dustin’s shoulders and you on Steve's, his hands wrapped around your thighs. He watched as you pushed Robin off the boys' shoulders. You and Steve cheered, sharing a victory hug after he let you off his shoulder.

 

And while Eddie knew that nothing would ever happen between you and Steve, he couldn’t help the jealousy that sunk into him. He should be the one out there; you were his girlfriend, for fucks sake!

 

So he made a decision he was going to suck it up and he was going to go out there and have fun with his girlfriend and he really thought he meant it but when his foot hit the water he swore he saw one of those bat swimming right at him and the water was so damn cold and he could feel his heart pounding and his breath quickening and he didn’t need to warn you guys because it wasn’t real it wasn’t fucking real and he knew that but it was still absolutely terrifying and he couldn’t do it no matter how much he wanted to, he just couldn’t do it.

 

He could feel the tears falling down his cheeks, and he walked away all the way to his van, where he collapsed against the back of it, pulling his knees to his chest just like he had when he was young. Every time this would happen, every time his dad would come back and then eventually leave again, every time Jason and his friends would corner him, he’d come home covered in bruises and just break down.

 

His thoughts were still running wild when he felt a gentle hand on his back. He didn’t have to look at who it was; he knew it was you. There was no doubt in his mind. He threw himself into your arms, hugging you tightly. You instantly hugged, running one hand up his back and the other through his hair. You had done this for each other many times. You had seen each other at your worst.

 

You hugged him tightly, whispering comforting words in his ear. You had seen him on the shoreline. You had even called to him when you saw the tears falling down his cheeks, but he just walked away. You quickly followed after him, finding him having a breakdown.

 

"Eddie?" You said softly as you felt his breaths slow. You could feel his body relax when you spoke, so you continued, "Do you want to talk about it?"

 

Eddie pulled away from you. Sitting back up, you kept your hand on his back for comfort as he told you what was wrong.

 

Needless to say, you felt like an ass; you had practically made him get in the water and just left him on the shore.

 

"Eddie I’m so sorry, baby. I had no idea you were feeling like this. I should have been there. I’m so sorry.”

 

“No, baby, it’s not your fault. I wanted you to have fun. I’m sorry I ruined your day." Eddie cut you off, avoiding your gaze.

 

“Eddie, you did not ruin my day; you never ruin my day. I love you more than anything, and I promise you that if I knew, I would’ve stayed home with you," you said to him as you grabbed his face with both hands, moving his gaze to your eyes.

 

"I don’t want you to do that, honey. I want to have fun with you. It’s just that every time I try, I feel like I’m about to die," he said, chuckling at how ridiculous he thought he sounded.

 

“Yeah, well, believe it or not, I don’t want you dead, so if that means I don’t get to swim in a lake, I’m more than okay with that," you said, smiling at him and kissing him gently. "Now come on, we can play cards; I have some in my bag." You offered him a hand as you stood up.

 

“Okay, but can we also talk about that whole you love me thing?” Eddie asked, "Because you’ve never said that before. I mean, I get why you’d love me. I mean, great, but what I mean is, do you?” Eddie finished

 

"Shut up, Munson," you said, rolling your eyes and walking away, smiling brightly as your cheeks burned.

 

"Do you?!" He shouted, throwing his arms up as you continued waking, "I’ll just take that as a yes," pausing again to wait for an answer, "I love you too!” He finished when you didn’t reply, running after you.

 

You stopped in your tracks, turning to him. "Really?" You asked, unable to keep the smile off your face.

 

“Yeah, of course, more than anything," he answered, pulling you in for a kiss. You happily kissed back, both of you grinning like idiots as you pulled away, looking into each other's eyes.

 

"I love you," you said at the same time, laughing when you realized this sharing one last kiss before heading back to the picnic table and your friends

[wh4thefnk]

Lily clearly pulled a “nevermind hoe” with that married man tho 💀💀//

yeah i have to think that the novelty of dating him or just being around him might wear off quick depending on the person’s personality 💀 especially for someone already as famous and successful as lily james. he doesn’t really have anything that she can’t already get for herself so she doesn’t have to force herself to tolerate him for some benefits lmao

i’ve never been a marvel fan or in marvel circles so i remember my honest first impression of chris wasn’t stellar and i honestly couldn’t understand all the hype around him. yes he’s attractive but the way people talk you would think he’s literally the only attractive man ever to exist and there’s no man that surpasses or even matches his attractiveness it’s so wild. like it was genuinely very confusing to me???? i was like lowkey this man looks like a pencil what are you seeing please

but i was like this many people can’t be wrong right? and maybe i’m just being overly judgmental so i watched some of his interviews and i thought this man is a little phony like his laughing where he clutches his left pec is a bit over the top and the way he would talk over people was a bit questionable at times but then i watched some of his more reflective stuff and i know he wasn’t saying anything hugely profound but i was like huh maybe there is another side to him and he genuinely has a desire to explore “deeper” topics and he’s not just a basic white bread overgrown disney kid with basic tastes 💀 mind you this was covid so like i had time lmao

so i started warming to him because i admired the thoughtfulness i thought i saw in him and i was like maybe his big ass laughing is genuine and he really is just that joyous and dorky and dumb in a jumbo way and maybe i just can’t relate because we’ve had different life experiences and i started to see him differently especially when i saw his interactions with scott and lisa i was like ohhhh that’s just how your family is valid plus when he was being so vocal about social justice issues i was like okay maybe you alright white man. i liked that he had such a sense of justice and connection to humanity and what was right and wrong that he felt compelled to speak even though he did not need to. ohhh you’re gonna make a whole ass political platform even though you’re not a politician because you’re just that passionate? wow okay respect 🫡

like obviously he still said and did some dumb white man things because he is a dumb white man in a world that allows dumb white men to remain dumb white men. like why are you as a white man speaking on kanye? shhhh 🤫 why are you saying a black family forgiving the murder of their loved one is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen? like that’s gross fr i’m begging please shut up shut up shut up 🤐 why did you think participating in a white savior movie was a good idea? why was asp going to do a series in the middle east that you didn’t go through with bc twitter rightfully dragged your ass so bad????? why do you seem so pro military and pro police? 😭 why did you autograph a prop bomb that represents the killings of innocent people? but my ass really thought he was genuine and his heart was in the right place and he would grow in his activism as he was exposed to new ideas 🙄 i know I’M the dummy

i don’t even know what i’m saying atp lmao the peer pressure brainwashing worked i guess like i don’t think he’s satan but maybe he is very much just some obnoxious guy who laughs too loud and deep down i still don’t understand why the karolinas and captreginas in his fandom find him so remarkable and magical and even the general public too. people REALLY like him. is he truly truly objectively that goddamn fucking attractive? like is it actually that serious? is it literally just the steve rogersificaion of his public image? i don’t even know where i stand anymore i’m just here observing🧍‍♀️

SORRY for the novel 😭💀

(also curious to know your first impressions of chris? are you an og fan? 👀)

Don’t worry bestie, feel free to vent 😂

I had been into Chris for a while, I witnessed him dating Minka and everything; never got in the depths of the fandom tho, I guess lurking never piqued my interest. And through the years my attention to him has swayed on and off.

My impression of him is that I found him endearing and sounded like a genuinely nice guy (and maybe he is, specially in a social level) and honestly I enjoyed his movies; to this day I think that as an actor he had or has potential to be better. And of course he’s done things that at first glance can easily charmed the public into thinking he’s very unique; for example having a political platform and being outspoken about certain things; he’s the guy with the cute dog that he rescued; it might sound silly but I genuinely liked him dating age appropriate women, I did think that little fact set him apart and (the worst of all, now I understand how this isn’t necessarily a nice/kind pov) dating Jenny did wonders for his image somehow, I vividly remember talking to another fan about this, how non-superficial he was for dating her, that it showed he valued character and personality the most 🤩

Maybe the peer pressure worked on me too 😂 I don’t think he’s the devil or anything; I would say he’s just disappointing; and I see character flaws coming to the surface right now, stuff that do not necessarily align with how he was portrayed, plus learning and rethinking other things. I definitely do not see him the same way anymore. I mean at the end it’s his life and he doesn’t owe strangers anything; but I guess we are also in the court of public opinion.

[throughthelensofthebabypanini]

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#literally they look like the couple that will show up ridiculously late at a party and still own the night because theyre just that powerful

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Okay so I’ve had this prompt(?)/idea(?)/plot outline(?) stuck in my mind ever since Black Panther gave me Erik “Killmonger” Stevens🥺 to drool over so here it goes:

• Post CW: Peter and Tony have been together for almost 2 years, Peter’s convinced their endgame cuz they’re both so in love. WRONG, Peter discovers that Tony’s been cheating on him with Steve for the past 6 months when Tony moans Steve’s name during sex.

• Tony tries to apologize, excuses start flying out his ass, “Baby you know you’re the only one for me.” Peter, against his better judgement, relents and they try to make it work.

• Not even a week goes by, he walks in on Tony and Steve. Tony tries to appease him but NOPE, Peter packs his bags and leaves.

• On May’s suggestion, Peter goes on sabbatical to Oakland where he decides to volunteer at the Wakandan embassy. There he starts to heal and stuff. Then, he gets the chance to actually go to Wakanda for immersion.

• In Wakanda he meets the newly healed and inducted prince N’Jadaka (Erik). It’s rough at first, Erik is closed off and Peter’s just starting to find himself again but they make it work. They complement each other and they’re beautiful together.

• 4 years later, SI is in need of Vibranium so Pepper and Tony, who’s not looking so great cuz him and Steve are just not okay, travel to Wakanda to negotiate with the Foreign Relations co chair and COO of the Wakandan Vibranium Distribution

• They arrive in a lavish conference room, set up their presentation/proposal, the door opens and a Dora Milajae announces the arrival of “the soon-to-be Prince Consort of Wakanda, the fiancée of Prince N’Jadaka, the Foreign Relations co chair and the COO of the WVD, Dr. Peter Benjamin Parker.”

• “Good morning ladies and gentlemen, shall we start the presentation? I have a meeting with our wedding planner and a cake tasting this afternoon. Who knew planning for a royal wedding was going to be so much work?” Everybody present laughs except for Tony.

• Because there in front of Tony is the man whose heart he broke looking absolutely breathtaking with a dazzling smile on his face and his heart aches remembering how much he fucked this up not just for himself but also for SI.

🤩TADAAA🤩

This actually looks more like an outline as opposed to a prompt but when I started writing the words just wouldn’t stop😅 anyways I’m just sooo glad I got this out of my system as I’ve been playing this story in my head for so long.💕✨

26 notes - Posted June 8, 2022

#4

❤️IL SUO CUORE💙

This is my first ever starker fic and I hope you like it. The fic is not beta read because this was supposed to just be a ficlet that turned into a full length-ish one. For some reason when I opened my Notes app this story just started to write itself so its rushed and not perfect, so please be kind to it🙏🏽 alsooo TW‼️ for attempt at non-con starting from: “memories of his Heart” up to “Back pressed against the wall”. If anyone wants to beta this please feel free to dm me and I’ll post it on ao3 🤩anyways here’s the fic, I hope you like it!🥺✨💕

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It happened. The one thing that Tony tried to warn everyone about. “A suit of armor around the world”, that’s what they needed but no one NO ONE believed him and it cost him the one thing THE ONE THING he couldn’t live without. THE ONE THING he’d burn the whole world for.

Two years. Two blissful, mind numbingly wonderful years became the film reel he’d see every damn time he closed his eyes. Whispers beneath black silk sheets. Smiles reserved only for him surrounded by his creations, Their children. Declarations of “It’s going to be You and Me together Baby, always.” Hazelnut eyes sparkling with intelligence, wit, and love. The Love he lost in a planet lightyears away from home. Gooey caramel eyes that looked at him with so much adoration and warmth. So desperate to feel a smidgen of that warmth again, he plunged right back into old habits.

“Tony, you need to stop this! You’re killing yourself!” Tony looked at her, tumbler creaking under the weight of his hand. The woman he thought he loved years ago. Ha! She couldn’t even accept the biggest part of him. Couldn’t look at the symbol of his determination and perseverance to live. No, He was the only one who truly loved him but He’s gone now, he failed Him. Dust in a small alabaster jar on his nightstand. A reminder that He loved him as fiercely as He protected the city that raised Him.

“Why don’t we go away for a little while Tony. Some place quite just the two of us huh? Please for me.” Please for Me. Please for Me. PLEASE FOR ME. Tony, let’s go grab dinner. We’ve been stuck on this equation for 10 hours. Come on, please for Me. Everything imploded. Arms suddenly embraced him. Sinking on his knees and letting the grief wash over his soul, at least what remained of it after Titan. Tony relented, succumbed to the comfort he didn’t love.

Nobody knew of course. To everyone else, Tony Stark didn’t lose anyone of importance to him. They had no fucking idea that the Heart he finally had after decades of iron and pain and false affection turned to crumbled in front of his eyes, Dust in a small alabaster jar on his nightstand.

The house by the lake was what Tony envisioned the first time He said, “You know, I love New York. I’m tied to her but sometimes I just want to put my feet up, lounge on a swing by the porch looking out to a lake with you by my side.” He would’ve loved it here. His Nymph, his little Sunflower Prince. This would’ve been Their paradise, His meadow, the house he built for Him beside the lake He imagined, porch swing included.

She didn’t let him bring anything he could work on. “No distractions, please. You need to rest.” That’s what she insisted on. She could try and take away, his projects, holograms, ban him from his workshop, but she could never take away the old Starkphone with busted up screen from him. “This isn’t a distraction! It’s my Lifeline Pep!” A Lifeline filled with conversations of forever, images of those two years, and His voice. She tried to fight him for it but she backed off eventually, said “okay Tony” and went back to her calls. Her worked distracted her enough from realizing that he had another lifeline strapped to his thigh for safekeeping.

“Tony, come on. I know you want it, need it even.” It became a routine a few weeks after she sequestered him in the middle of nowhere. “No Pep. I don’t want it. I don’t need it. I have my own room for a reason.” A conversation repeated almost everyday now with the same words said, the same responses given. And every time she sulks, flounces around house, clattering pots, pouting, looking at him with glassy ice blue eyes, he apologizes like it’s his fault he doesn’t want to touch her like that. Can’t even stomach anyone touching him like how his Heart used to.

He sleeps, he eats, he tries to survive. She “dotes” on him, tries to get him to open up, then tries to distract him with SI work because “the company still employs thousands of people Tony. We can’t all be stuck in our grief.” With nothing to drown himself with, he relents. Works on improving tech for Stark now that “Tony’s had time to grieve and he’s going back to work Mr. Walker, don’t worry I’ll make sure of it.”

They celebrate the company hitting another milestone 1 year, 7 months, 16 days after Titan, after the snap, after he put Dust in a small alabaster jar on his nightstand. Stark giving the world a breakthrough in first response equipment. A biodegradable easy to use adhesive for wounds based on His formula. A formula tucked away in the servers he made for Him. Servers she had no right snooping around in. “This could help a lot of people Tony. Relief operations, rescue missions they’re still happening. SI could aid in those efforts.” He wasn’t convinced, this was His. His creation and no one but Him should decide what to do with it but he’s gone, Dust in a small alabaster jar on his nightstand. “Okay” he yields.

“This is great Tony. We’re still on top of almost all major fields. Stark is still the powerhouse we built despite everything that’s happened. And you’re finally coming out of your funk. Here, I know you shouldn’t but since it’s a special occasion you can have a glass or two.” One glass, two, three, four. One bottle, two, three, four. He sat there, throat burning, vision blurring, his whole world spinning, it was nice feeling warm again, even just a little bit. He wants nothing more than to keep floating, drifting like he did in the Benatar. No expectations, no deadlines, no pressure, just him and memories of his Heart.

Then a weight on his lap disturbs his peace. Arms around his neck, hands on his hair, chapped lips on his. “It’s okay Tony. I know what you need. Don’t worry I’ll take care of everything. We’ll be a family, I’ll make us a beautiful family. You and me together, always.” He screams, “GET THE FUCK OFF ME!” Shoves his arms forward and scrambles to the corner of the room. Back pressed against the wall, nanites crawling up from his thigh to his outstretched arms, gauntlets ready to fire. “WHAT THE FUCK TONY! We were finally going to be together again!” This bitch, THIS BITCH! “What the fuck? WHAT THE FUCK?! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING?! I TOLD YOU! I told you NO YOU BITCH! NO!”

“TONY! I’m trying to help you! THIS, ALL THIS I can fix it for you. WE can fix this, all you have to do is let me take care of you the way you need it.”

“THE WAY I NEED IT?! And you think what?! Everything’ll be okay after we fuck?! Is that it?!”

“No! We’re going to make love the way we used to. Tony, I love you so much, I just want to help you, let me help you.”

“I don’t know what ideas you’ve convinced yourself with Potts but I don’t love you anymore! Hell, I never knew what love TRULY meant when we were together. Whatever fantasies you’ve conjured up about us is just that, a fantasy because I’ve only ever loved someone once in my whole life. My Heart, who I lost on a godforsaken planet lightyears away from here!”

“Tony you don’t mean that! You’re just confused, we weren’t together when you were up there, I’m still here Tony. We can even be a family now. No more Iron Man or Avengers distracting you. We can finally make a life together, a family. Don’t you want that?”

“My Heart isn’t you Potts. It never was. I don’t even want you to know who He was after what you pulled you selfish bitch! The only family I want is the one I built with Him! Just like how I want to live in this house, the house I built FOR HIM, WITH HIM!”

Seething, he was seething. It was clear, even to Rhodey whenever she let him visit, that he held no affection let alone love for her. He thought she was safe, but he should’ve known. Should’ve realized all those times she insisted she take care of him that way. How could he be so stupid.

“Tony, please you have to understand, I’m doing this for US. I won’t let you ruin the life I made for us here. I won’t let you!”

“What life?! I was trying to survive my grief, these months weren’t us making a life together. I needed a place to grieve the Love I lost and you INSISTED on being there for me but what did you do? You took away my suit, Rhodey has to go through you before he can visit me, you only let me use the workshop because you thought I just needed to suck it up and make SI more money! This isn’t life, this is a prison! And I was soo stupid not to realize the shit you were pulling.”

He had to leave. He had to be safe, so he fired at the wall across him and ran up to take the last thing that was His. Dust in a small alabaster jar clutched safe in his hands, the suit engulfed him and before he could reach him FRIDAY freed him from the prison she made.

“I’m so sorry Baby, don’t worry I’m gonna make sure that We’re going to be safe from now on. FRIDAY set a course for the compound, alert everyone I’m coming back.”

The field was littered with the remains of the team he once considered his family, a family that he was trying to mend because the world needed them. You’re so much more than who you mask yourself with Tony. You’ve always been kind, generous, you gave the world a hope unlike any other. And I AM SO PROUD of you for doing this. Nobody moved when he landed but when the nanites retreated, their eyes saw everything. The grief he tried to survive, the pain that bled through every bone in his body, they could all see it now. Laid bare, hands clutched around the Dust in a small alabaster jar, he wept.

“It’s okay Tones, FRIDAY told us, it’s going to be okay, you’re here now, you’re safe.”

The days passed but the hollowness didn’t, everything was still painful but he was starting to hope now. He didn’t think he’d ever get to the point where he would function without his Heart but he was trying, it’s what He would’ve wanted. I’m not going to pretend that I know how difficult this must be for you Tony but you are doing the right thing. It’s scary, I’d be peeing my pants if I was in your shoes, but you can get through this. I’m gonna be with you every step of the way.

See the full post

32 notes - Posted May 11, 2022

#3

“They met by pure chance.

Peter was working a very much illegally obtained job as a pizza delivery boy, and Tony had just escaped Obadiah's dreadfully boring client briefings. Peter makes his last delivery to a shitty nightclub- the same shitty nightclub Tony picked to avoid paparazzi.

Tony is not gay. He's really not. He's just drunk and painfully horny. He figured he'd give it a chance because this guy was very hot- and definitely on the young side but that's what bouncers were for, right? To check ID.

He didn't expect to fall in love. He didn't expect to be someone's dirty secret. He didn't expect to be the one begging for a relationship.”

Made my first ever moodboard for this starker fic I’ve been obsessed with for quite a while now which is Dacrylagnia by Extraho🤩

It’s very well done and a big departure from the common dynamic that I’ve seen starker portrayed in fics💖 here’s the link and as always, mind the tags!💕✨

86 notes - Posted April 22, 2022

#2

Post CW Avengers where Alphas Steve and Bucky pull a Clint-with-the-secret-family and bring the entire team to hide out in their upstate NY home but forgetting to inform their former HYDRA Spider/Red Room’s only begotten Son/Herald of Death Omega Peter that they’re bringing guests over.

- - - - -

“You know, when I told you boys you could bring work home with you sometimes, I meant you could bring paperwork or evidence you need to study, not bring your entire team over because the villain of the week blew up the compound.” An unknown voice rings loud and clear in the hull of the Quinjet startling the already agitated heroes.

After a moment of stunned silence, Tony peeps out, “Um, hello? Hi! Who are you?”

The voice responds cooly, “Ask the Alphas whose knots are in danger of being fodder for the pigs.”

“Heeey babydoll! Um We know this isn’t the best time to do this but we thought the team could spend a few days at ours?” Steve, who apparently knows the owner of the voice, reasons. The Captain fiddles with his hands and throws a sheepish smile towards one of the cameras.

“Don’t you babydoll me Steven Grant. We agreed that the pups and I are off limits to your crew until we’re all ready. This is a clear violation of what we agreed on.” ‘Babydoll’ bites out.

Bucky opens his mouth to respond but is cut off by a flailing Tony, “Wait wait wait! Hold on! Babydoll? Pups? What the actual fuck is going on right now?”

Bucky stares at Steve, a whole conversation happens with their eyes. Steve widens his eyes at Bucky and the latters sighs heavily. With a pinch of his nose he says gesturing to the ceiling and then towards the team, “Um so everyone this is Steve’s and I’s mate, Peter. Peter, darlin’, this is the team.”

Peter, who seems to be more exasperated now than displeased responds, “I would like to say it’s a pleasure but considering the circumstances it’s quite unfortunate that this is how our family’s introduced to all of you.” He sighs and calls out to Steve and Bucky, “Steven, James, KAREN’ll take care of the landing protocols. Make sure not to agitate any of the plasma cannons near the fences, I’d prefer it that I’m the one that gets to blast you both for this.”

Both super soldiers let out a relieved breath, “We’ll make it up to you sweetheart. We promise.”

“Oh you better or else you both can get ready sleeping with the horses for at least a month.”

Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. I am KAREN of the Spider’s network. I request everyone to please be seated as we are about to reach the Barnes-Rogers family home. Thank you.

90 notes - Posted June 10, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Just thinking abt ABO starker with FRIDAY calling Peter “Madame Stark” UGHHHHH

Could be a post CACW fic with Tony “welcoming” the rogues back to the compound and FRIDAY saving him from a confrontation by announcing,“Boss, Madame Stark has arrived and is looking for you.” *insert the rogues’ confusion here*

172 notes - Posted April 11, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[bestofbucky]

Run To You - 1

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Mob AU. Bucky Barnes hires you to be his bodyguard.

Warnings: None

A/N: This is going to be a series so comment or send an ask if you want to be tagged in it! 18+ Only please. Hope you enjoy

From this prompt list by @caplanbuckybarnes . Prompts are in bold.

Divider and gif made by me.

Series Masterlist

Your fingers work quickly, manipulating the fabric. Around, over, through. Tying a tie is still second nature, you don’t even have to think about what your hands are doing. You do up the button of the jacket and brush yourself off, straightening out any little creases.

Looking at the woman in the mirror you sigh. You haven’t seen yourself like this for three years. You had sworn off suits for all eternity yet here you are, putting one on again.

You felt torn, your mind telling you getting back into being a bodyguard would just open the floodgates but your heart couldn’t let it go. You loved the adrenaline that came with it, the ability to focus solely on the protection of someone rather than the struggles life and the shit it throws at you. You told yourself you had to at least take the interview, you owed it to Sam.

You met Sam two years ago, when you attended a group therapy session at the VA. You hadn’t wanted to go but after your first session you found yourself going back. You never spoke but your military and personal security past gave you plenty of trauma to relate to the people who did share their stories. Then one session Sam had approached you and you very quickly bonded.

You went from seeing each other once a week in the sessions, to seeing each other almost every day. Movie nights, cooking for each other and talking out of your asses became routine. You were in a dark place in your life when you met Sam but his friendship quickly became a very strong reason for you to continue enduring life.

You chuckled to yourself remembering the shock you felt when he told you he was not only part of a mob, he was one of the mob boss’ second hand men. He told you stories of the two other men at the top of the pack. Bucky, the leader, gets on Sam’s nerves a lot but deep down they really care for each other and Steve, the other second hand man and according to Sam ‘even more of an idiot than Bucky’. The way he talked about them made it sound like they were just really good friends, basically family, not dangerous criminals.

Taking a deep breath you take one last look in the mirror and head to the address Sam had given you. The journey was quick and before you knew it you were sat in the lobby of a very fancy building waiting for Sam to come and get you.

After a brief catch up, Sam guides you to Bucky’s office, giving you a thumbs up before closing the door behind you leaving the two of you alone. Bucky doesn’t look up from whatever work he is doing. You wait but this goes on past the point of being rude.

“Sir?” His head snaps up at your voice, eyes trailing up and down your body not being subtle at all. He scoffs and goes back to his work.

“Excuse me? I’m here for the bodyguard interview?” You don’t have the patience to go along with whatever game he is playing.

“Interview? You’re mistaken. Sam told me to take this appointment so you can pitch me the idea of having a bodyguard. Personally, I don’t think I need one.” He says bluntly still focused on his work.

You laugh out loud but quickly stop yourself when you catch the death glare he gives you.

“Something funny?” He scowls, clearly not happy with the dynamics in the room.

“Yeah, the fact you think you don’t need a bodyguard.” You say frankly.

“I’ve survived this long without a bodyguard. What makes you assume I need one now?” He smirks thinking he caught you off guard.

“Since the time I entered this building I have already found five simple ways to kill you and not get caught.” You cross your arms over your body not letting him intimidate you.

“Ok, you have my attention. Name them.” He challenges leaning back in his chair.

“One, the building over there,” you point out the window and he turns to look, “someone could take you out with a sniper and you’d have a bullet in your head before you could blink. Two, you only have one entrance and exit to the parking garage, someone could easily tail you and cause a little accident.” His calm and collected demeanour starts to fade as he realises the truth behind your words so you continue. “Your packages aren’t checked, anyone could mail anything to you and as soon as you open it, it could explode or release a toxic gas, dead in seconds. The roof of this building is close enough to the one next door, someone could sneak in from there and you have no guards there to stop them.” You stop talking as he stands up chuckling to himself.

Buttoning his suit jacket he crosses the room to you. He is a lot taller than he looked from being sat behind the desk. You can see his bulging muscles even from under his suit and you can’t help but wonder what he looks like underneath his clothes.

You notice one of his hands looks like he is wearing a black glove but when he walks across the window it catches the light in a way a glove wouldn’t. You realise it's probably a metal prosthetic, drawing your eyes away from his arm you focus on his face. His sharp cheekbones act as an arrow directing your eyes to his lips.

“That’s only four.” He smirks down at you, his body is close enough for you to smell his cologne but you don’t let his attractiveness throw you. Pulling a knife out of a hidden holster in your suit you hold it up, the blade reflecting the light.

“Five, me. Your guards aren’t very thorough with their weapon search.” You wink at him as you see his eyebrow twitch slightly and the smirk disappear from his face. He takes a few steps backwards and leans on his desk.

“I’d like to see you try to kill me with that.” He is smiling but the slight crease in between his brows, the small amount of sweat on his forehead and the minuscule increase in breathing tells you he has been caught off guard.

“Don’t underestimate me.” Your eyes meet his, neither one of you willing to stand down. You’re not sure how much longer it is when he finally clears his throat and you both look away from each other.

“Fine. You’re hired, but you’re on a probationary period. I can and will fire you if you give me a reason to.” He narrows his eyes at you. You simply nod in response. “I need to finish up here then I will take you to our main base.”

Next Part

Permanent Taglist: @vampirewithbedsidemanners @townwitchbitch @velvetcardiganbucky @courtneychicken @band--psycho

[yourmcu]

V-Day

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Summary:

You’re not like most people who enjoys Valentine’s Day. Can a certain redhead change that?

A/n: just a late valentine related imagine for all of u bc I’m incapable of posting this sort of stuff on the exact day. enjoy! (I’m finally using this iconic gif don’t mind me)

Word count: 1,753

Warnings: fluff

The 14th of February is just another normal day for you. You always find Valentine’s Day cheesy, you don’t see the point of celebrating it. That sort of thing isn’t as important as Christmas or Halloween. Not that you're bitter because you're single, you couldn’t care less about that, it just isn’t the occasion for you.

Tony outdone it this year. The compound looks like it was powdered pink and red overnight from all the decorations when you step out of your room. You almost don’t want to know what the main area looks like. Sam and Wanda are probably getting started on breakfast which would consist of everything shaped like hearts.

Your plan for the day is to stay in your room, only coming out for snack and drink refills, simple as that.

“Hey, Happy Valentine’s...” you pretty much tone out every v-day greeting that came your way, rolling your eyes playfully as you sit down with everyone, greeting them with the usual good morning. You expect the compound to be deserted by midday since surely all of them have plans with their partners for the rest of the day, which is perfect. For you. And for them, of course, yeah.

Sam and Bucky made their way to you. “So, Y/N, how are you?” Sam greets. You already suspect that they were hyping you up for something. “Food good, coffee good... sleep well?”

You turn to them with a smile on your face. “Alright, what do you want?”

“Well,” Bucky lets out a breathy laugh. “Sam here was just helping me-”

“That is not what’s happening. What he wanted to say was,” the birdman cuts him off. “We both wanted to take you out to dinner tonight, we can’t settle on who, so we’re letting you pick.”

You blink. They have to be joking. Do they not notice your routine during this time of the year? After socializing with the team you’d grab a day’s worth of snack, head back to your room, lock the door and lose your mind on video games until the next day.

Unhealthy, but it's for one day.

“Only if you want to,” Bucky adds hastily.

“Come on, this is a chance of a lifetime!” Sam insists, wiggling his eyebrows.

“We’ll go to your favorite restaurant.”

“It’s just a friendly date.”

What you fail to notice was Natasha listening to the events happening. Her foot taps against the floor as she discreetly waits for your response, taking coffee sips and bites of food and looking away whenever she looked like she's eavesdropping. No one else is paying attention, everyone has their own conversations.

Inside, she pleads that you’d turn both of them down, just because she’s planning to ask you out herself. They just beat her to it.

“I appreciate the thought but I’m sorry, I have plans,” you shrug. “Why don’t you take each other out instead? Not literally.” You give them another smile and walk out of the room, coffee in hand. 

Sam and Bucky nods indicating they understood. Sam tells his friend that if he had more appeal you’d agree to the date. But they take you up on your advice, already planning a guy’s night.

Natasha almost cheers when she hears the first part, only to spiral when she hears that someone had already asked you beforehand. You're unavailable. She could ask you out any day, but you deserve something extra special. She sees this day as her only chance to confess her feelings for you.

Her eyes trail you as you walk out, turning to Wanda when you were out of sight. “Do you have any idea who asked Y/N out?”

“I don’t,” Wanda replies, a bit distracted. “They’re lucky, I’ve never seen Y/N show interest in anyone since I met her. Anyway, I have to go, Vision and I have a whole day planned...”

Natasha huffs while people slowly file out of the kitchen. As far as she knows, Tony's with Pepper, of course, Wanda and Vision, Steve is probably going to join Sam and Bucky on their night out, and Clint is back at his farm celebrating with his wife.

And you’re with that person, which most likely someone who isn’t on the team otherwise she’d know. She's left by herself to mope.

-

Few hours have passed, maybe three, it’s lunchtime. As you suspected the compound is empty, so you make your way to the kitchen to make yourself something to eat.

Boxed mac and cheese is the only thing you knew how to make.

“Y/N?”

You almost drop your stirring spoon at the sudden voice. You feel embarrassed about your choice of outfit, you feel and look like a grizzly bear while she looks stunning, even if it’s just plain workout clothes.

“Hey, Nat.”

“I thought you were... out with someone?” Knowing you, she might’ve misunderstood when you said you ‘had plans’. You look so cozy she would love to hug you on the spot if she isn’t so sweaty.

You let out a curious hum, turning off the stove. “I was?” You giggle. “Where’d you hear that?”

“I didn’t, just, I assumed you’d be,” she mutters and finishes her water bottle. 

You're now grabbing a bowl for the mac and cheese you made. “I mean, Sam and Bucky did ask me if I wanted to but... y’know, if I’m being honest they’re not really my type.” You pause to look at her who was staring back. “Have you eaten? This batch I made is enough for three people, I think.”

Natasha nods at your offer. “They did say it was a friendly date.”

You stop scooping the macaroni and perk your head up with a grin. “So you were listening.”

“Not like I had any choice, I was in the same room.” Quick save.

“Mmhm.” 

Then there's  a minute of comfy silence as you clean the area you made the meal on, putting the pot away and stuff.

“Why don’t you have a date today?”

“What?”

“Anyone would kill to go on a date with you, Nat.” Is what you say in your head. But instead you say, “Well, you know, I didn’t expect you be here too.”

Natasha shrugs and before she could answer you add, “No one’s caught the notorious Black Widow’s attention yet?”

She chuckles at your words, looking up at you. “Who did you think I’d go out with?”

“I dunno, Steve-”

“God, no,” she quickly cuts you off and laugh,  you laugh along but at the same time sigh in relief.

“Crap, I just remembered I have a game to finish,” you hold the bowl of cheese and macaroni and stick two spoons on the side. “I’m cordially inviting you to my room, you are very much welcome, after you change.”

Natasha tells you she’ll see you there in a bit.

-

“Huh. I just noticed you do this every Valentine’s Day,” Natasha notes as she takes everything in. Your PlayStation's on, your trash bin is almost full of snack wrappings, couple of beers tucked at the side of your bed. “Cozy.”

“Why, thank you,” you say sarcastically, picking up a controller and waving a vacant one at her. “Feel free. Or you can just watch me fail at this game.”

Natasha decides to join the game a little later, now she's lost in thought on how someone like you spends such a day like this, or how beautiful you looked as your eyes dart at every direction of the screen and how you sometimes bite your lip when you're that focused in the game.

It's always the little things she likes about you.

Glancing at you one more time before eating a spoonful of mac, she turns back to the TV to watch how you're doing.

But you're witty, kind and easy to get along with, why wouldn’t you have a date - or why wouldn’t you want a date on Valentine’s Day?

If only you knew how she feels, she’d make sure to treat you well. Like you deserve. She’d take you on dates you’d enjoy every time the 14th rolls by. If you don’t like the holiday for some reason she’d find a way-

“NO WAY,” you cover your mouth and bump your head to Natasha’s shoulder in defeat, making her come back from her trance to look at the big red words on the screen, indicating you lost. “I almost had it!”

Natasha leans into your touch and pats your back. “You can try again.”

You groan. “I definitely will but for now, I’m gonna take a break.”

“Great,” she shifts a bit to get comfy, switching to Netflix and choosing whatever’s trending right now. “I’m just curious but, do you like someone?”

You hum in response, sipping on a beer, not completely processing what she said. “I - yeah. I guess so,” you tug the blanket closer and pout at the movie that’s on. You don’t like romance movies. You always prefer an action or a mystery one any day. “Do you?”

Natasha feels her heart ache for a moment. “Yeah. She’s kind and sweet, goofy but can still seriously kick your ass type.” Your eyes land to her hands. You knew fully well Natasha isn’t straight, she admitted and definitely doesn’t act like it. “There’s just something about her that makes me... love her.”

“She sounds great,” you mumble, starting to get lost in your own thoughts. “I guess I just-” you hesitate, just because the woman you're about to describe is the same one sitting next to you. “I feel bad for her that someone like me likes her.”

“Why would you think that?” Natasha chuckles, shaking her head.

You shrug. “She’s amazing. So out of my league, I’d say she’s so close but so far away but that would be really cheesy and ugly,” you laugh. “I don’t know, she deserves way better.”

Natasha hums. “Sometimes I think she needs to her worth, because what she doesn’t know is, she’s very much amazing in her own way.”

Looking up at her from her shoulder, your eyes light up and you don’t know when it happened, but you just found her lips pressed against yours softly.

Even if it was just a short kiss you feel breathless when she pulls away to look at you again.

“Just so we’re clear, we’re just describing each other like idiots right?”

“Yeah.”

Natasha leans in to kiss you again.

---

oh my god I want a hug

[shameless plug] check out my natasha romanoff ambience here

[mypoisonedvine]

Tattletale | (dark)stepbrother!Sam Wilson x reader

summary: your step-brother was kind enough to let you stay at his apartment just off-campus when you began your freshman year of college where he was a senior.  unfortunately, his kindness ran out when he learned about your secret side-hustle.

word count: 4.7k

warnings: smut!! (noncon/heavy dubcon and stepcest, they’re not biologically related but were raised from adolescence as siblings), facefucking, slapping, choking, degradation, coercion, DP (with a toy), anal play, possessive behavior, unprotected creampie, lots of crying/implied dacryphilia

this is a dark fic containing triggering topics, please do not read if this would be triggering for upsetting for you in any way.

Your step-brother (and roommate… and technically your landlord) wasn’t usually home when you got back from your Econ class, so you jumped a bit when you saw him nursing a beer in your shared living room; apparently, he was waiting for you.

“Hey, Sammy,” you greeted sheepishly, suddenly feeling self-conscious when his eyes raked over your body— it was hot out, so you just had on a tank top and cut-off shorts, but now you wish you’d covered up more.

“Hey,” he nodded back, setting the beer down and leaning back on the couch, “you got time to talk for a minute?”

His tone made you a little nervous, but his casual body language set you at ease.  He probably just wanted to ask if you could stay somewhere else over the weekend so he could have a girl over, or maybe he needed your help with one of his more difficult assignments— though frankly, you probably couldn’t help much with a senior-level project.  “Sure,” you shrugged, setting your backpack down and slipping off your shoes to join him on the couch.  “What’s up?”

“Nothing, really, I just feel like we don’t talk as much as we used to,” he explained with a little sigh.  Something about the way he glanced to the side for a moment made you wonder if he was being completely transparent.  “Remember when we were younger and we talked all the time?  Or when I moved away to start here and we called every day?  I miss that…”

You smiled a little, moving closer on the couch to rest your hand on his.  “Me too,” you admitted.  “I just figured you saw me as your annoying little sister.”

“I do,” he laughed, “but, you know, we used to be really close!  You used to tell me everything.  And now… now I don’t think you tell me everything.”

Your suspicion that this was more directed than he let on was growing, but you wanted to be close again, too, so you let it continue.  “Well, we’re older now so it’s not quite the same…”

“I guess it’s normal for siblings to grow apart when they’re adults, but, I don’t know… I guess I just didn’t see it coming with us.  And now that I’m letting you live here I thought it would be like old times; to be honest, that was part of why I had you move in in the first place.”

Just as you started to shift away, he flipped his hand and grabbed your wrist, stopping you from pulling away.  “Sammy,” you whispered in shock, leaning back as much as you could even as he moved in closer.

“I think it’s the least you can do to be honest with me, sis,” he hissed.

“I— I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you protested, your gut sinking in fear of being reprimanded by him.  He was so friendly 99% of the time, but you were still terrified of those few memories you had of him getting angry with you.  Disappointing him was one of your greatest fears.

Sam laughed, but he didn’t exactly seem amused.  “Stop playing dumb, honey, I think you know what this is about.”

“I… I don’t…” you stammered, your heart dropping further when he reached for his phone.

“Got a text from Steve today,” he explained as he unlocked it.  “Wanna guess what it was?”

You swallowed dryly, more sure than ever that it was what you dreaded most.  “I don’t know, Sam…”

“I’ll give you a hint,” he grimaced, reading something from the screen.  “Kinky virgin horny for cock, 18, freshman at NYU.”

You looked away but he instantly grabbed your face and turned you to look at him.  “You know, I let you live here while you were in college so you could get an education.  Not be a fucking slut.  Did you think I wouldn’t find your OnlyFans?  Steve found it first, god knows what he did with these pictures before he sent them to me.  Is this what you wanted?  Any guy— even a guy we know— to get off to these pictures?”

Your shoulders slumped and your chest deflated as you started to cry.  “I’m s-so sorry, Sammy—”

“Don’t call me that,” he sneered.  “How stupid are you?  Did you think these would stay private?  Guys trade these all the time, they’re never secret for long.  How long have you been doing this, huh?  Must’ve been a while considering the sheer magnitude of content.  Looks like your first post was on your 18th birthday— Jesus fucking Christ, you couldn’t wait a minute could you?  I was there that day… when did you sneak off to take this little number, huh?”

You didn’t want to look as he turned the phone to you, but his hand tight around your wrist was a reminder not to struggle too hard.  You remembered taking the photo, and it had been during your party.  The idea of how wrong it would be to strip down in your parent’s bathroom to snap a picture in the mirror had only been more encouraging at the time.  For some reason you hadn’t considered that someone would find it; you cringed at the idea that Steve saw you entirely nude, let alone your brother.  It was humiliating.

“And what about this one, huh?  How fucking slutty are you?” he spat, pulling up another picture and shoving the phone in your face as you were confronted with the image of you on your bed with your legs spread, fingers toying with your clit.  “You really don’t leave anything to the imagination.”

“Sam, I didn’t— you weren’t supposed to—”

“Just stop talking.  I can barely look at you right now,” he shook his head.  “This stuff is seriously depraved, sis.  The idea of all these guys drooling all over my little sister… and you actually encouraged them, the fuck is wrong with you?”

Tears poured down your face, and you felt like the anger radiating off of him would burn your skin somehow.  

“And don’t give me some stupid fucking sob story about how you’re doing this to pay for school when I know damn well that mom and dad pay for your classes and I pay your fucking rent.  You didn’t do it for money; you did it for fun.  You did it ‘cause you’re a shameless fucking slut.”

“‘M not,” you denied, “Sam, really— I’m still a virgin, I don’t— you know I don’t do that.”

“You just fantasize about it.  And chat with strangers online about it.  And make videos going on and on about how bad you wanna get fucked.”

You shuddered as you realized: “You watched one of my videos?”

He grinned and pulled you closer.  “Baby… I watched all of them.”

Completely at a loss for words, you silently tried to squirm away only for him to wrap his other arm around you and pull you closer, ignoring your sobs of fear and confusion.

“You’re actually sorta talented, for a dumb little virgin who had no idea what she’s getting herself into,” he purred against your ear, starting to push up your tank top.

“N-no,” you whimpered, “Sam, stop— I’m sorry.  I’ll delete the account, I’m sorry.”

“Too late for apologies, little sis,” he cooed, “it’s not just the account.  It’s that you made those posts from my apartment, you took those pictures in the room that I gave you.  Not to mention the way you walk around in these tight clothes, teasing me just because you can.  This goes way deeper than a few dirty pictures, sweetheart, and you know it.”

When you tried to wriggle away again, he seemed to exert nearly no effort at all to be able to spin you around and pull you down into his lap, where the shape of his hard cock pressing against your ass was obvious.  “Sam, s-stop, this isn’t funny.”

“Damn right it isn’t funny, I’m dead fucking serious,” he growled against your ear.  “What was it that you said in your most recent video, the one where you were wearing a collar and using that gaudy pink vibe on your clit?  ‘I need your cock to ruin my hole, daddy’... am I remembering that right?”

Hesitantly, you nodded, and he laughed darkly against your ear as he pulled your hips into his.  

“Say it, then.  Like you said it in the video.”

“Sam, no—” 

“No?” he repeated incredulously.  “You can’t say no to me, honey.  Cause if you do, I’m gonna send all these pictures and videos to mom and dad, tell them all about how their precious little angel is selling her ass on the Internet with the phone they pay for and the laptop they bought.  What are they gonna say to that?  Think they’ll take you back after that, let you stay with them when I kick you out?  As if.  So unless you think one of these creeps online is gonna give you a place to stay, seems like I’m your only option.”

You choked on a sob as you cried harder, hating that he was right.  

“So you need to start doing what you’re told, or you’re gonna end up doing a lot worse with someone much less generous than me, got it?”

Terrified of him but unable to imagine the alternative, you nodded.

“Then.  Fucking.  Say it.”

“I…” you began, sounding weak and weepy compared to the original video you were quoting, “I need your cock… to ruin my hole… daddy.”

“Eh, needs improvement but it’s a start,” he shrugged, throwing you down onto the couch and climbing on top of you.  When you tried to protest, or at least turn around to face him, he slapped your ass harshly and it stung even through the denim shorts.  “I have needs too, sis.  Can’t hardly get any when you’re here all damn day being a fucking cockblock.  And frankly, since you started dressing like this and acting like a whore, I haven’t even been able to think about anybody else… can’t get hard for anyone but my slutty little sister.”

He leaned down to press his body against yours, pinning you against the cool leather by your shoulders.  

“Steve told me about your account weeks ago, babe… I’ve been getting off to your cute little pictures ever since.”

It made you wince, but it made him laugh.  Shame and fear and disgust swirled in your gut and made you nauseous, his grip on you tight enough to leave a bruise as he dug his fingertips into your skin.  When he sat back up, he started pulling at your jean shorts roughly, ripping them slightly as he shoved them down to your thighs.

“Wow, look at this pretty little ass,” he groaned.  “A thousand guys have seen it, but it’s better in person.”  He slapped you again on either cheek, hard enough to make you yelp.  “What’s the matter, sis, I thought you liked being spanked?  You talk about it all the time.  You talk about how you want me to spank you raw and leave marks all over your body, hurt you and break you and claim you.”

“I— I wasn’t talking about you,” you defended, remembering how you always addressed the viewer when dirty talking in your videos, but keeping it generic enough that any guy could imagine it was him.

“Then who did you think about when you got off?  Who was it that got you wet for your videos?” he pressed.  “Because you’re wet right now… and I’m the only one here.”

You shook your head, you tried to speak to deny it, but words escaped you as he flipped you around and hovered above your face.

“Do you get wet for anybody, baby, is that it?  Will you spread your legs for any cock?  Or do you just have a special place in your cunt for your big brother?”

Your stunned silence earned you a slap to the face, sending your head spinning to the side as your cheek stung and burned.  Just as the heat of the impact really started to get to you, he hit you on the other side, and again, until you finally gave him an answer: “You!” you yelped suddenly.  “You, Sam, just you!”

He laughed a little, leaning down and capturing your lips in an unexpected, dominating kiss.  It was awkward and sloppy, exactly the sort of kiss one would expect when it was forced; just as passionless and confused on your end as a kiss to your step-sibling should be.  But he moaned against you and forced his tongue deeper into your mouth, hands coming down to grope your tits through your tank top and bra.  Trying to push him away was beyond useless, and he slapped you again without even breaking his lips away from yours.  Soon he was reaching to pull down your top— no, wait, he was tearing through it, and your bra snapped like a rubber band against his strength.  When he grabbed your breasts again, without any clothing in the way this time, your nipples were hard and sensitive between his fingers; it was so obvious that he smiled into the kiss, biting your lip playfully.  “Wow, you really do like this.  Your step brother’s forcing himself on you and you’re such a whore that you’re actually into it.”

He slapped your breast, just hard enough to sting, and you cried out; he did it again and your back arched.

“Yeah, I knew you just needed to be put in your place, little sis.  Just needed me to fix your attitude, that’s all.”  He wrapped his hand around your neck, not squeezing enough to cut off airflow but obviously threatening it, before leaning down to whisper in your ear: “get on the ground, on your knees.”

Even for what was left of your virginal innocence, you knew what he wanted.  Wordlessly, your only sounds the weak little sobs that shook your chest, you slipped out from beneath him and onto the floor by the couch.  He shifted to sit in front of you with wide legs, thick thighs spread as he looked down at you with an expression of anticipation.  

“Get on with it, honey, I know you know how.  Seen you choke on your toys a thousand times.”

After taking a stabilizing breath to cope with what was happening, shivering from the cold air on your exposed upper half, you sat up slightly and reached for his belt.  You’d felt it pressed against you before, but now you could see the shape of his cock threatening to burst out of his jeans, so thick and long that you were confident he heard the little gasp you let out.  And yet, you knew you had to trek forward, so you began to unclasp his belt before unzipping his fly.  He lifted his hips to help you pull his pants and boxers down, but other than that he was too busy stroking the side of your face with his fingers in a move much too delicate for the situation.  You stopped breathing for a second when you saw the size of him, his cock bouncing up when you released it to slap against his stomach.

“Sam, I can’t,” you sighed, starting to back away, “I’ve never— it won’t fit.”

“Nah, baby, it’s okay,” he encouraged gently, pulling you closer, “you can take it just fine.  Just open your mouth, sis…”

He guided the tip of his cock between your lips, still swollen from his bruising kiss, and you whimpered when you felt his warm skin against your tongue, tasting the salty pre-cum that leaked out slow and steady.

“Yeah, just like that, now go ahead and suck on me,” he instructed, groaning when you closed your lips and hollowed your cheeks, using your tongue to tease the slit like you’d read online was a good thing to do.  He chuckled and bucked up into you, holding your head as he started to pump his hips and slowly fill your mouth to the brim.  “See, you can do it— now choke on it.”

When he pushed in until you gagged, your first instinct was to push on his thighs and try to get away for air, but he held you down as he hissed through his teeth.

“I know you can take all of me in your throat if you just stop fucking fighting,” he hissed, slapping you one more time which caused your throat to open up in shock— and it was just enough for him to shove in deeper, groaning at the feeling.  “Yeah, that’s it… fuck…” he sighed, moving his hips faster.  The struggle for air made your eyes water (although you hadn’t really had much of a chance to stop crying in the first place) as your grip on his thighs tightened.  “I bet your pussy is getting so wet for me right now,” he chuckled, “I bet you love choking on my cock, huh?”

You tried to shake your head but you couldn’t really move much; he pulled you off of his length by your hair, just in time to give you a much-needed sputtering gasp for air.

“Fuck, I’d love to fill that pretty throat with my come,” he smiled— a sinister sort of grin that made you shudder as you looked up with him, feeling spit and pre-cum on your lips and chin— “but I know what you want.  Since you’ve spent all year begging to lose your virginity on the internet, I figure I’ll be nice and give you what you’ve been asking for.”

Before you could even begin to consider a response to that, he hoisted you up and threw you back onto the couch, spreading your legs as you looked away in shame.

“Yep, I was right, you’re fuckin’ soaked,” he laughed.  “You nasty little slut, are you actually getting off on this?  Wow.”

A renewed sense of ‘dear god this cannot happen’ shot through you as he leaned down and slid his cock over your folds, teasing your clit with his swollen head.  “Sam, stop, please…”

“I’m kind of getting tired of you begging,” he hissed as he leaned down, glaring right into your eyes as you froze beneath him.  “I’m obviously not going to stop,” he explained as his hand slipped around your throat, “you dumb fucking bitch.”

Your ability to fight back was taken with your opportunity to breathe, his strong fingers cutting off blood flow to your head quickly as he clamped down on your neck.  Instantly you clawed at his hand, your vision starting to go a little spotty, and he laughed at you coldly before letting go.  And when he finally did, his hand moved instead to hold both your wrists above your head while the other guided his cock into your pulsing entrance.  When he pushed his hips forward, the air was punched from your lungs as your back arched, a sharp pain reverberating over your body from the stretch of him inside you.

“Fuck!” he groaned, pushing in deeper, slow but consistent.  “You’re tight, baby, you really did need a cock to ruin this hole, huh?  Fuck, ‘m gonna, just hold still…”

But how could you hold still, when every instinct had you moving your hips to try to push his cock out, your hands tightening into fists as they tried to fight against his strength.  Of course, now that he was inside, he had a second arm to hold you down with, but the terrifying thing was that he really only needed the one.  “Sam!” you sobbed, your own voice sounding foreign with the way it wavered and cracked.

“Yeah, baby, that’s me inside you,” he purred, “that’s your big brother’s cock tearing up this little pussy…”

When he roughly shoved the rest of himself inside, the tip of his cock found the end of you and your eyes shot open.  He smiled down at you as he examined your face; twisted in pain, and glistening with tears turned greyish-black by your mascara.

“None of your toys ever went this deep in you before, huh?  Poor thing, should’ve known you were all talk… you don’t even know how to take those big cocks you drool over.  I can’t even imagine what you’ll be like when I put this in your ass.”

He cackled at the pure terror that danced over your expression, and the way your walls tightened around him briefly.  

“Relax, sis, not today.  I’m just sayin’, if you want me to keep my mouth shut to mom and dad, you’re gonna have to keep me happy.  Lucky for you, I’m very happy right now, snug inside this sweet little cunt of yours…” he trailed off, leaning down to kiss your cheek and moving to suck on your ear, bite your neck, lick up and down over your pulse.  He was waiting, you realized, for your body to relax so he could move inside you with less resistance.  You were a little surprised he didn’t just jackhammer into you with no regard for your pain, but you had a feeling that part was coming soon anyways.

He reached down to pull your legs up, guiding them to wrap around his hips, and the new angle forced his cock a little deeper which made you squeal.  The sound morphed into a stuttered moan, however, when he pulled back out of you slowly, savoring every detail of your walls as he sighed against your skin.

When he slammed back home, your nails dug into your own palms.

“Baby,” he whispered, “you’re close, aren’t you?  Just from this.  You always came so fast in your videos…”

Irritatingly, he was right; your walls were flexing as more slick coated his thick shaft, dripping down until you could hear the wetness whenever his hips slapped into yours.  You couldn’t help it, considering how he pushed right into your g-spot with every stroke inside you, hitting every sensitive place harder and better than any toy ever had.

“See, baby?  We were made for each other,” he cooed.  “You were made to take this cock.  You were meant to be my little fucktoy.”

You hated the way his words only added to your pleasure, pushing you right up to the edge— which his cock slamming all the way into you one last time finally sent you over.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasped when he felt the force of your orgasm, smiling pridefully as your eyes fluttered shut and your head fell back against the couch.  “So sensitive, sweetheart, and so fucking wet for me…”

He fucked you faster and— somehow— deeper, chasing his own release with aggressive thrusts into you.  Each of his low grunts against your ear sent shivers down your spine, your legs around him tightening to pull him closer.

Just as you thought he might find his rhythm for a while and maybe, if you were lucky, be finished with you soon, he pulled out quickly and patted your thigh.  “Hands and knees, baby,” he instructed, watching you shakily turn around and lift yourself on weak arms.  It was short-lived, though, as he pushed your face back down into the couch cushion, forcing your back into a dramatic arch that made you feel like your body was on display for him.  As if that wasn’t nerve-wracking enough, you couldn’t even see him much anymore, which meant you had no idea what he was reaching for when he leaned back— but you heard what it was when he turned it on.  “Oh, you recognize this?” he mused.  “It was my favorite of everything I saw you use.”

He rubbed the vibrator over your folds slowly, chuckling a little when you jolted each time it brushed against your clit.  You didn’t really understand why he would want to fuck you with a vibe when he seemed to have been enjoying doing it himself; but then he slid it up a little higher, to your other hole, and you gasped.  “S-Sam,” you pleaded.

“I know you took it here before.  I watched you do it.  I even heard you the night you filmed it— these walls are thinner than you think, sis.”

Shame burned on your face as you imagined him listening to you put something up your ass for the first time, only for him to see the video the next morning when you uploaded it.

“Do you think it’s gonna feel different when I put it in while I fuck you?” he mused, pushing the vibrating tip of it into your hole.  Thankfully it was pretty slender, so the stretch wasn’t bad, but the vibrations were strong enough that you could feel them everywhere, and you realized he would be able to feel them, too, while he was inside you.  “You’re gonna be so fuckin’ full, sis, stuffed to the brim just like you wanted.”

He pushed the toy in deeper until your hands clutched at the sofa beneath you, which was apparently his cue to guide his cock back into your drenched pussy.  Just as he promised, you felt so full that you had no idea how to cope with it, your legs shaking as you tried not to collapse beneath him.

“Fuuuuuck,” he groaned, moving himself and the toy at alternating paces inside you as you mindlessly drooled onto the cushion, your overstimulated body barely able to handle the sensations he was forcing upon you.  “You like being my little fucktoy, don’t you?  You’re so pretty like this, so pretty being used just like you deserve.”

“Sammy, please,” you sobbed, barely intelligible as you couldn’t really string your thoughts together anymore.

“You want more, huh?  Needy little slut,” he snarled, but the way he said it almost sounded like a compliment.  It certainly made your heart swell as if it was.  He fucked you faster, then, and pushed the vibrator as deep into your ass as it would go until you were sobbing and blubbering and basically just a complete mess beneath him.  “Keep squeezin’ me so tight and I’m gonna come inside you, sweetheart,” he moaned.

Some part of your brain was still aware enough to know that that was not a good idea, but you didn’t even really think to tell him not to because you knew he would anyway.  Finally, you had accepted that he was going to do whatever he wanted with you and your resistance only brought out his crueler side.  

“Fuck, come again for me,” he demanded, “come on my cock while I come inside you— that’s it, cream on my fucking cock while I fill you up, slut.”

It was jarring, the way his words suddenly knocked you over the edge again as you cried out, fresh tears filling your eyes and joining the damp spot beneath your face on the couch.  You felt both your holes clenching around the intrusions he had filled them with, your head going fuzzy and your limbs going numb from the intensity of your peak; waves of warmth washed over you as you slumped down a little bit, the distant sound of his praises just barely reaching your ringing ears.

His free hand held your hips tightly while the other kept pumping the vibrator into you, and even through all the overwhelming stimuli going on at the moment, you could feel his cock beginning to flex deep inside you.  Each pump of his come painting the deepest parts of you coincided with a low moan from him, the sound so cruelly perfect and forcing your channel to clamp down on him, weakly, one last time.

“Fuck, baby…” he groaned as he caught his breath, turning off the vibrator before slowly pulling it out of you and tossing it aside.  He kept his cock inside for longer, though, as he rubbed your ass and back gently.  “You’re gonna be such a good little fucktoy for me, sis, I just know it.”

He let you drop when he pulled out of you, your spent body limp and leaking on the couch as he stared down at you.

“I think you need a shower, sweetheart,” he chuckled.  “But first, you need to give me the password to your OnlyFans so I can help you delete it, okay baby?  We don’t need anybody else looking at what’s mine.”

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Stare Enough

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Word Count: 4034

Summary: Bucky's got a new stare. Sam spends all afternoon and most of the evening working up the courage to meet it.

Both Sam and the food are the main attraction at this party and the problem with that situation is that it takes so damn long for one main attraction to get a second to enjoy the other.

He’s grateful—god, is he grateful—for the turnout. Friends, neighbours, the kind of people he and Sarah call family without there being any actual relation by blood, they’ve all shown up. Since the Blip, Sam’s felt like he’s always around, but this feels like a real homecoming. No sadness, nothing bittersweet. It’s a celebration and he’s at the center of it. Him and the food.

At last, Sam’s done the circuit with his plate, spooning creamy salads and grilled vegetables, stacking shellfish pink as a sunrise. There’s a fresh-baked roll perched atop a scoop of sweet potatoes and caramelized onions that smells so fucking warm and mouth-watering he has to resist walking with his nose buried in it. He collects a set of utensils furled in the middle of a paper napkin (courtesy of an efficient assembly line of old ladies, chatting and twisting neat rolls of cutlery), plate bowing into the palm of his other hand, and that’s when his damn phone vibrates in his pocket.

Sam halts and makes a sound of frustration. Nobody’s come to this thing empty-handed, so there are dishes crowding the surface of the tables, no place to set his plate down. His phone vibrates again. A teenager comes up to peruse the spread in front of him and Sam sighs, knowing what he’s about to do.

“Here,” he says heavily, offering up his beautifully arranged and wonderfully fragrant meal. The cob of corn shining with the butter he lovingly smeared over it nearly rolls over the edge. “You’re the luckiest kid in the world.”

Quickly, Sam turns away, sliding out his phone and bringing it to his ear. He doesn’t want to witness the boy digging in. His stomach growls as he greets Joaquin Torres.

“Sam,” Torres says. “Uh, I mean, sir. Mr. Captain Am… Captain Wil—”

“Take it easy,” Sam laughs. “You know me, Torres. Don’t get starstruck now.”

“Honestly, I never really got over you being the Falcon. Now that you’re Captain America… Apologies if it takes me a little while to be cool about it.” After a pause—taken while Torres attempts to become cool with Sam being Captain America, Sam assumes—he asks, “You celebrating?”

Not far from where Sam’s standing, there are two little girls singing along to their clapping game. At a table behind them, a trio of elderly gentlemen are arguing over which one of them it was that caught that 50-pound snapper off the dock back in 1978. There’s a sear of meat and fish being rotated onto and off of the grill and, bouncing over everything, music from a speaker someplace.

“Yeah,” Sam says with a broad grin. “Yeah, we are. I’d save you a plate, but I can’t even manage to hang onto my own.”

He doesn’t mention that Torres is responsible for that situation; he’s aware that, besides being a fan, the Lieutenant is a little bit infatuated with him. Sam’s trying to be gentle until the day he can respond to Torres with friendly smack-talk, the way he would Steve or Scott or Bucky. Maybe not exactly like he does with Bucky.

“Don’t worry about it,” Torres cheerfully insists. “I wasn’t calling for that, I just wanted to give you a heads up about something.”

“Alright. Let me just…”

Sam strides away from the heart of the party towards the water, seeking quiet. Kids dart in front of him and that’s nothing unusual, but when he follows them with his gaze, he sees they’re running towards Bucky. Bucky, who has his Vibranium arm extended and two kids dangling off it already, one of whom might be Sam’s nephew. Of course, Mr. Casual, Mr. Smiles, Mr. Social Butterfly, is carrying on a conversation like his arm isn’t being used as a jungle gym. A conversation with Sarah.

For just a moment, Sam stops in his tracks, considering whether he should go over there and break up any potential flirting. But then he watches them. Bucky’s just talking to her, not flicking his gaze up and down while he checks her out. And Sarah, she’s relaxed and smiling, totally at ease, like Bucky’s another member of their community. That makes him a friend. Family.

That’s one thought too far and Sam jerks himself into motion again, walking until he’d be swimming with another step.

“What’ve you got for me?”

“Well, I’ve been trying to watch as much of the coverage of the fight outside the GRC vote as I can, trying to get a sense of how they’re spinning Walker’s reappearance, the legacy of the Flag-Smashers now that Karli and her inner circle are gone… Anyway, there’s a lot of footage and you’re at the center of most of it.”

“Guess the new suit draws the eye. And the cameras.” It’s no surprise to Sam. Part of the job of being Captain America.

“Yeah, but…”

“What is it, Torres?”

“Bucky’s in the background a lot,” he explains in a voice that tells Sam there’s more Torres isn’t saying.

“Makes sense. He was in the thick of it as much as I was.”

“He’s there at the end too. When you were talking to the Senator about power and the common struggle. Man, that was a great speech. Do you think—”

“Torres. Please. The point.”

“Right, for sure, man. Bucky never takes his eyes off you.”

That flusters Sam for a second. He wasn’t expecting the blunt delivery, especially of those words. He squints down at the water where it’s lapping the side of the dock. He knew Bucky was there; they spoke right after, when Bucky tried to feed him that bullshit (and he knew it was bullshit at the time) about texting and missing the exact speech Torres is apparently still hung up on.

“So Bucky was actually listening to me,” Sam says carefully. “That’s a surprise, but it isn’t really the kind of thing that’s significant enough for you to bother notifying me about, is it?”

“I’d say that depends on what you consider significant.”

“Torres.”

“I know, but he’s not just listening! It’s how he’s looking at you!”

“Like he’s wishing I would wrap it up?” Oh, Sam remembers Bucky’s miracle from their session with Dr. Raynor.

“Like he’s totally into you! Major heart eyes. Sir,” Torres hastily adds.

And Sam should reprimand him for this. Calling with a trivial piece of information when he must know Sam’s already being very selective about which of the hundreds of recent calls (and it’d be more if more people had this number) he chooses to pick up. Calling to speculate on how Bucky was staring at Sam that night in New York.

“I don’t need to tell you this is gonna be one of those investigations we keep between you and me,” Sam states.

“For sure. I just thought maybe you’d wanna know.”

“Uh huh. You get any real news, you pass it along.”

“I will.”

Sam ends the call and turns. He looks to his right: the sparkling river. His left: his people, all the way down to the squirt with the glasses who’s hanging off a metal arm, and the man that arm belongs to.

He’s felt it, the way that Bucky stares. It’s not like it used to be though, when it irked Dr. Raynor at the police station in Baltimore, or confused Walker and Hoskins in the back of that jeep in Germany. This new stare of Bucky’s isn’t one Sam’s ever caught him doing. Bucky hasn’t quite let him. That’s actually how Sam noticed it was happening—Bucky would immediately glance away instead of leaving that dead expression on his face when Sam met his eye. Now that he has proof of it, proof he’s certain Torres would send him footage of in an instant if he asked, he’s scared to look.

Instead, he watches Bucky look at other people. Like Sarah. Like kids from the neighbourhood. His literal hangers-on disperse as Sam observes, scattered after Bucky leans towards them to say something. Sam sees half his smile and even that much has his heart swelling up in his chest. Bucky weaves through the tables and standing groups, the dancers and the kids who’ve broken out a skipping rope. (After eating from that buffet? Kids are crazy. Gonna make themselves sick.)

Without thinking too hard about it, Sam returns to the noise and the smells, trailing Bucky with a stealthy eye on his ass in those jeans. There’s no friction here between him and everybody else Sam cares about, he can see that in every short, friendly exchange someone engages Bucky in as he walks. Things flow as smoothly as the butter oozing off the corn Sam reluctantly gave up. Clearly, they remember Bucky from when he was here helping with the boat. They respect him. They like him. They’ve gotten to that last thing faster than Sam has, which makes Sam feel a little embarrassed as well as a little overwhelmed by how much the two of them have actually been through. He’s seen Bucky as a mindless killer and it almost brings a genuine tear to his eye—here on this glorious day in front of all these folks—to see the dork who rushed out to get his hands on a copy of The Hobbit in 1937 return in his current form as the dork who’ll take a fake punch from AJ and blush over brazen old women telling him how handsome he is.

Bucky stares different? Well. Sam feels different about the staring.

Sam keeps his distance until Bucky reaches the food, then his stomach gurgles a reminder than he hasn’t eaten yet. No ass is nice enough to distract him from his meal. He sidles up beside him and Bucky seems unsurprised, not even glancing over.

“Anything important?” he asks.

“What?”

“Your phone call,” Bucky clarifies, adding a heap of glossy green beans to his plate. Damn, those are some of Sam’s favourite. Bucky better not take all of them. “They need us somewhere?”

“Oh. No.”

Bucky shoots him a suspicious look after this stilted response, but he doesn’t say anything until Sam grabs a plate of his own, hungry eyes roving the feast that’s diminishing now that people have started coming back for second helpings.

“Put that down,” Bucky instructs. He doesn’t wait; he takes the plate out of Sam’s hand and tosses it back towards the pile. Thankfully, the plates are made of paper.

“Buzz off, man,” Sam tells him, reaching for the plate again. “I’m starving.”

“I figured.”

Wait.

“That’s for me?” he guesses, gazing longingly at the plate Bucky’s preparing.

“Yep.”

When Sam doesn’t reply, Bucky pauses with the plate in one hand and a serving spoon in the other and sighs.

“I didn’t want you to miss the good stuff. This party’s for you.”

“I think it might be for both of us.”

Bucky seems too self-conscious to say anything to that. He goes back to loading up Sam’s plate while Sam quietly feels his throat close up with emotion as he watches. He clears it gruffly.

“I woulda had to eat the cake you brought,” he jokes. “Pretty sure only the really little kids have eaten any. You know, people who don’t know better.”

“I was tryin’ to be a good guest.”

“I can’t believe you brought a store-bought cake,” Sam says, laughing as he grabs a set of cutlery for the second time and continuing to shuffle along next to Bucky.

“Have you ever seen me cook?”

“…No.”

“Exactly. Trust me, what I did was kinder.”

“If you say so.”

“You know what, Sam?” Bucky demands challengingly, turning to face him. “I do say so.”

Sam’s eyes go from the plate Bucky’s holding between them up to Bucky’s face. He’s close. And he’s got this look, this dancing look in his eyes that undercuts the shit out of the hard line of his eyebrows. Trying to seem all stern. All Sam can think for several seconds is that, if he just grabbed Bucky by the chain around his neck and hauled him forward, they’d never get the food stains out of their clothes. But their laundry would smell delicious.

He clears his throat.

“Then you better stay for a while.”

The corner of Bucky’s mouth twitches up and he hands Sam the plate he’s prepared for him.

“I plan to.”

When Sam picks a table to sit at, he makes sure there’s enough room for Bucky too. When Bucky sits next to him, he sits so close that their thighs press together and claims that’s all the space there is. Bucky talks and laughs when other people at the table talk to him. He’s easily drawn into conversation now and Sam feels weirdly proud of having brought this great guy home to meet everybody, even if he’s not here like that. People tells stories about last week and last century interchangeably, one old smartass making Bucky howl with laughter when they toss out a memory of Little Sam Wilson streaking from his house to the river for a naked swim. This is the danger of welcoming Bucky into the community. Sam, suppressing a smile, doesn’t really mind.

Elbows up on the table so he can eat, talk, and gesture emphatically with his fork, Sam feels Bucky’s stare creeping up on him. Slow, like the sun slides across the landscape when the clouds blow past. Bucky didn’t make this food, but Sam can feel his satisfaction as he watches Sam accept what he provided. Feels like there are grasshoppers springing around in his stomach. He still has a roll on his plate, one side soaked in family-secret barbecue sauce, and he tears it in half. While the rest of their table are caught up in some story being boisterously told by overlapping voices, Sam turns to Bucky and wordlessly offers the bread, edges dimpled where he gripped to split it. They watch each other chew and Sam’s closed mouth is smiling.

Inevitably, somebody pulls Sam back into the conversation and he does his best to laugh and heckle, covering the fact that he wasn’t listening, that he dropped the thread. The voices rise and rise and fall like water slopping over the side of a bucket.

In the next quiet moment, Bucky inclines toward him slightly and says, “You wanna talk later?”

And Sam says, “Sure.”

The day feels long, long, long, and Sam’s face gets sore from smiling, tired from talking. He does not confess that to Bucky, who’s almost always at his side. Lights go on overhead and beers come out of coolers, leftover food packed up and redistributed among neighbours, small children with drooping eyelids toted home. At first, Sam thinks Bucky’s leaning into his side because he’s drained from so much socializing too, but when he meets his eye, he just sees an invitation.

“Where are you two goin’?” Sarah asks when they slink past her carrying a too-big Cass in her arms.

“Just walkin’,” Sam tells her.

“Gotta stretch our legs,” Bucky contributes.

She looks from Sam to Bucky and back, smiling knowingly.

“Uh huh,” Sarah says.

Sam grabs Bucky by the shoulder to turn him forcibly away from his sister’s insinuations and just… forgets to let his hand fall as they wander along the water. Bucky’s steps angle towards his until his arm’s bumping Sam’s side, Sam’s arm slung around his shoulders. Is this still the body language of a couple buddies on a warm Delacroix night? Is it now, when Sam drops his arm and brushes the back of his hand across Bucky’s?

They leave the party lights on the horizon with the lazily setting sun, scrabbling off the end of the dock and onto the riverbank. Sam reaches up to give Bucky a hand down, so he won’t step in the soft mud and sink to his ankles. Bucky clasps his hand firmly and jumps.

The sound of people drops off down here and the sound of wind in grass, frogs hiding between reeds, rises.

“Are there alligators in here?” Bucky wonders, scanning the river’s edge.

Sam laughs.

“For sure.”

“And you swam here when you were a kid?”

“Even then,” Sam boasts, puffing his chest out, “my courage was legendary.”

“Yeah, and your nudity. Is there anyone within a mile of here who hasn’t seen your bare ass?”

Their eye contact holds. Oh right. Sam breaks away with an awkward, hiccupping laugh, directing his gaze at the dirt.

“The gators haven’t gathered too close to the dock in decades,” he promises Bucky. He stares out at the undisturbed water, enjoying the sun on his face. “Got skittish of the boats. Most of ’em, anyway.”

“Consider me not entirely reassured.”

“You scared of a little Louisiana lizard, man? Didn’t you grow up with Creature from the Black Lagoon?”

“Nah, that was after my time.”

“Damn, you’re old.”

Bucky snorts a laugh, refusing to look at him.

“You wanna take a dip?” Sam goads.

“No.”

But by the time Sam’s pulling his shirt over his head, Bucky’s peeling off his socks. Sam spares him a smile and keeps going, the ground soft underfoot. It could be like the few times they’ve changed in proximity to one another before, but it’s not. He senses Bucky’s eyes on him the whole time. Face hot, he takes a quick look in Bucky’s direction as he’s unzipping his jeans. His heart feels like his new suit—wings just waiting to unfurl.

When they’re down to their underwear, they wade in.

God, it feels nice. The water’s cool and the sun’s clinging to the horizon.

“Just don’t get any water in your mouth,” Sam instructs, then dunks his face and comes up squirting water at Bucky from between the gap in his front teeth, a trick he perfected as a kid. “That arm ain’t gonna rust, right?”

“You asked for this,” Bucky warns. He points a menacing finger and plunges below the surface.

Sam twists as he treads water, trying to see what’s going on down there, searching for a ripple or bubbles of released air. His legs move in twitchy kicks because that’s where he’s expecting Bucky to grab him. But the idiot is playing some kind of psychological game first, making Sam wait a full minute. Two minutes. Three.

He’s opening his mouth to call out Bucky’s name when he breaks the surface. Sam’s ready to swap the concern he was about to form into words into a taunt instead—did Bucky get down there and decide the scariest thing he could do was let Sam’s imagination take over?—until Bucky shakes his head and slicks his hair back. Then the words get caught in Sam’s throat and he just kinda stares.

“There was a really gross fish down there,” Bucky informs him. “Do you guys have eels there? Mighta been an eel. Maybe we should get out.”

“Alrighty, scaredy-cat, let’s get you to shore.”

Bucky propels himself out in front, arms moving in powerful strokes, and Sam’s hand darts out on instinct, fingers closing around Bucky’s hard calf muscle. Bucky jerks and Sam burst into loud laughter.

“Did you think that was an eel? Did you?”

“You’re lucky I…”

I’m lucky you what? Sam wants to ask when Bucky trails off, but he just swims after him.

During their game/possible eel panic (there’s no way it was an eel), they weren’t always fighting the current, so they’ve drifted downstream some. Bucky takes sloppy, sloshing steps out of the water, underwear that might’ve been light grey now dark and plastered to his ass. Sam feels like he’s choked on river water, though his mouth is dry. He lumbers out too and they begin the march back in the direction of the dock and their clothes. The water tickles as it runs down Sam’s legs; must be bugging Bucky too because he plucks his waistband away from his skin before letting it snap back. Clenching his jaw, Sam stops himself from trying to see too much.

This end of the dock is made of old boards before it transitions to pavement farther down, wood smooth on Sam’s feet when he and Bucky haul themselves up, dropping their collected clothes and shoes into a single pile. No point getting dressed until they’re dry, so they sit on the edge of the dock, feet swinging. Feels good. Feels home. They don’t speak until the sun’s set, the sky orange, then grey, then rich, velvety blue.

“You know, don’t you?” Bucky asks softly.

“Know?”

“Yeah, you know. Whenever you don’t know something, you talk and talk—”

“Sometimes I can work through a problem better if I vocalize,” Sam explains.

“But when you do know,” Bucky goes on, ignoring Sam’s input, “you’re quiet.” He looks at Sam. “You’re quiet.”

What else is Sam? Nervous. His skin’s prickling with it, and because even the warm air feels cold when he’s just climbed out of the river. There’s a wet patch spreading around him that he can barely see with evening rapidly deepening into night. He lifts a hand from the dock and sweeps it up his neck, brushing water droplets away.

Without glancing over, he says, “You’re doing that thing you do.”

“What?”

“Staring. That new stare you do.”

“Maybe,” Bucky acknowledges. A bird starts calling, the sound drifting in and away like the sway of a hypnotist’s watch and Bucky’s silent until it’s over. “Maybe I’m staring for the same reason you’re quiet.”

Sam waits. Bucky doesn’t add anything, so Sam turns to look at his face, hung with cool shadows.

“You’re not gonna say it, are you?”

“I thought you would say it,” Bucky argues defensively.

“You’re the one who’s been staring at me like that for a week. You should go first!”

“Please, you don’t even know how I’m staring at you, I only do it when you’re not looking.”

“Do it now then and see what happens,” Sam dares him.

“Fine.”

Just like that, Bucky locks in like Sam’s attention is the only handhold on a sheer cliffside. Vital and stable, a last chance, the one thing around him that wants to help him higher instead of watching him fall. A lot of that’s familiar from his regular hard stare, but then something opens up behind his eyes. Some fragile thing (that might be Bucky’s sense of caution) breaks. Suddenly, Sam’s seeing what Joaquin saw in the news footage and amateur cell phone video. Except he’s seeing it two feet in front of him. It’s intense. It makes the air a little harder to breathe.

Bucky’s lips curve into a smile, then part as he says, “I love—”

Hopefully, he wasn’t going to end that sentence with ‘store-bought cake,’ because Sam can’t really take back his reaction. The finger slipping behind Bucky’s ear as he cradles his face, the mouth sealed to his. Especially that. Thankfully, Bucky kisses him back, just as hard, and then harder.

“Thank god,” Sam pants when they break apart.

“You interrupted me.”

“I got you to stop talking? Guess we’re in my miracle.”

“I’d complain…” Bucky shrugs. “…but your miracle is pretty nice.”

“Not bad, right?”

He sighs and looks out over the water. Bucky pushes up on his fists and sits closer, offering his hand for Sam to interlace their fingers.

“Hey,” Sam prompts when it hits him that it’s super dark outside and they aren’t gonna dry much more like this, “did you book a hotel room again?”

“You kiddin’ me? I spent all my money on that cake.”

Sam laughs.

“Right, well, I guess you need a place to stay tonight then.”

“You know anything nearby?” Bucky asks with a soft smile.

Getting to his feet and bracing to pull Bucky up after him, Sam uses his free hand to motion towards their clothing pile.

“Put your pants on,” he says, “and I’ll see what I can do.”

[thran-duils]

Lost In Zero Gravity (P.8)

Title: Lost In Zero Gravity (Part Eight) Summary:  Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers.  Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 2,685 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior

Author’s Note: **MUCH ANGST**

Part Seven || Part Nine || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Instead of going to his office, Tony marched straight to Steve’s without so much as a fleeting greeting for anyone who he passed on the way. He barged in and closed the door loudly behind him.

Steve looked up from his laptop, pausing for a moment. He saw the look on Tony’s face, “Something wrong?”

Stopping in front of his desk, Tony glowered down at him. “I don’t know. You tell me after I tell you about the interesting question Y/N had for me today.”

“What was that?” Steve asked, looking back at his laptop, clicking away on the keyboard. He seemed to relax when he heard it was about Y/N.

“She asked who Cecile was,” Tony stated. Steve stopped then, his fingers hovering over the keys, suddenly interested again. Tony gave a wry chuckle. “Oh, that got your attention, did it? You suddenly give a shit now, don’t you?”

Steve’s hands left his keyboard, his face screwed up in confusion. “How did she—”

“You slipped up,” Tony pointed at him accusingly, running his tongue over his bottom lip. He came to sit in the chair across from Steve’s desk, sitting back, staring at him. “You called her Cecile in bed.” Steve looked like he had been slapped. “Do you have no recollection of this?”

“No,” Steve admitted reluctantly.

“Hmm… well, it apparently happened.”

“Did you—”

“No. No, I didn’t tell her,” Tony interrupted forcibly. “I left her at the apartment. She’s busy with the cat.” Tony exhaled sharply, running his hand over his face, distressed. “Did… did I not tell you to keep your marriage shit out of it? Didn’t I?” Steve threw his hands out and started to defend himself and Tony pressed on, “I did! I distinctly remember it! I know things are not great right now with her but if you can’t keep a lid on it, what are we even doing messing around? And yeah, I say we because I’m tied in with this if you haven’t noticed!”

Steve clicked his jaw, pushing back from his desk, hands planted on the arms of his chair, silent.

As the silence stretched on, Tony relented in his anger slightly. His voice was less harsh, “I mean, come on, man. That’s a rookie mistake.”

“We’re trying to work on it,” Steve finally said. His voice was sad when he said, “I haven’t told you she’s pregnant.” That piqued Tony’s interest. “Yeah. A couple months along.” He gave a humorless laugh and said, “But you know the bitch of it is I don’t know if it’s mine. Or… if it’s that… little fuck.”

“I’m not sure what she sees in him,” Tony offered up, trying to be comforting.

“She’s always had a thing for younger guys. Plus, he doesn’t come with all the strings of marriage,” Steve said sourly.

“What are you going to do?”

“What can I do other than let it play out and then get a DNA test?”

“And… if it’s not yours?”

Steve sighed loudly, throwing his hands out again. He looked defeated. “I don’t know, Tony. I… I don’t want to divorce her. There’s still something to salvage, I know it. And I’m not gonna kick her ass to the curb.”

“I didn’t expect you to.”

“I just… I’m trying to take it day by day. I’m sorry I fucked up with Y/N. I really don’t even remember it. I was high as hell the last time we had sex. It must have just… slipped out,” Steve said. He chewed on his bottom lip, staring off into nothing, Tony silent as well. When Steve looked back at him he said, “I’ll do better.”

Tony apologized immediately, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to just come in here and ream you. I mean, I did. But I should have asked first.”

“I haven’t been exactly forthcoming about it.”

“No, no you haven’t. You could do better at that too.”

Steve nodded in agreement and asked seriously, his hand running over his beard, “Y/N was really bothered by it?”

“I don’t think so. She brushed it off when she saw my reaction to the question. I think she was just curious more than anything. It was an innocent question I think.”

“Well, it won’t happen again,” Steve said firmly. “I’ll make sure of it.”

<><><>

Something was tugging on the other end of the lights that you were trying to hang up. You already knew who it was, and you turned, scolding immediately, “Luna!”

Luna was batting at the end of the orange Halloween lights and when you said her name, she immediately stopped, booking it away towards the couch. She got up on it and sat down, her tail swishing.

“Don’t glare at me! You’re the one being naughty! You have so many damn toys and you are trying to sabotage me!”

She laid down then, turning away from you. Rolling your eyes, you resumed decorating. You loved that cat but you also wanted to strangle her sometimes.

In the middle of hanging up little bats, you heard the key in the lock. You stilled, seeing Steve walk into the apartment. He was carrying a small bag and his eyes ran over the living room seeing all the decorations you had hung up. A small smirk appeared on his face as he closed the door behind him, locking it.

“What?” you asked.

“Looks like you’re going all out. Halloween isn’t until next month.”

“It’s September 30th,” you pointed out. “Who decorates for a holiday days beforehand?”

“Touche, ma’am,” Steve joked coming over towards you. He stopped to reach out and scratch Luna behind the ears.

“Can you put some up higher?” you asked him, gesturing to continue the swarm of bats you had put on the wall.

Steve placed the bag down and came over to you, taking the rest of the small stack of them. You rolled the tape handing each piece to him and he worked in tandem to place them on the wall, continuing your pattern.

“I’ve almost finished my 31 days of Halloween list too,” you told him.

He cocked an eyebrow and asked, “And what exactly is that?”

“You must never have fun,” you jested, handing him another piece of rolled tape. “It’s a list of horror or Halloween related movies for every day in October. I’ll send you guys the list so you can plan visits around it because I will not be missing a day. And if you don’t like a movie, well, then just don’t come on that day.”

“Wowww,” Steve drew out, chuckling.

Shrugging, you told him, “I’m serious. One hundred percent.”

He still laughed as he finished putting up the last couple bats. “Noted, dear.”

Stepping back, you nodded in approval at the wall. “It looks good. That was the last part! I can’t wait to see all the lights I hung up at nighttime! It’ll set a really nice ambience.”

“I can see that,” Steve responded, looking around at all the strings of lights. He looked amused by the sight of it. His eyes met yours again and he said, “Way to be festive.”

“Always. Just wait until Christmas.”

That drew a laugh out of him and then he said, “I did come here for a reason though.”

Moving past you, Steve went for the bag and picked it up, holding it out to you.

“What’s this?” you asked him, taking it from him cautiously.

“A gift,” Steve told you.

“Christmas isn’t for months.”

Steve chuckled, “Consider it an early one.”

You opened it, taking out a small box. Upon opening the box, you found a key and realized immediately what it was. It was the key to the apartment. Only took them a month and a half.

“Trust me enough now, I suspect,” you commented, looking up at him.

Steve nodded, “That was the stipulation wasn’t it?”

“Sure was…” you said, trailing off. You walked past him with the box and went to the door to grab your keyring that was hanging there. You slipped the key onto it and replaced it. Turning back, you said, “Glad I was impressive enough to earn it.”

Steve came up to you, a tickled look on his face at your wisecrack. He leaned down, kissing you on the forehead.

“Good job.”

“Thanks,” you returned. “Tony too busy to be here for the ceremony?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Well, you get some brownie points. Speaking of brownies, I did make some. Want one?”

You moved out from around Steve, not waiting for him to answer. You smiled to yourself, your back to him feeling the weight of being locked in one place taken from you now that you had a key. You could not wait to be able to go out without an escort. Freedom was at your fingertips.

<><><>

Tony was gripping your waist and hip tightly as you rode him on your bed. They had come over late in the night and it was early, 4:30am. Steve had gotten out of bed to get showered and clean himself up. Tony had elected to stay in bed and have another go at it, which you were not complaining about. They had not come over for a week having been away on a trip and you had missed them.

You barely heard the door open, thinking it was Steve coming back from the shower. But, you noticed Tony freeze, his eyes drawn to the door, widening alarmingly. His hands tightened dangerously, and you stared down at him confused, stalling.

“No, do—” Tony started to say loudly.

You barely turned your head before someone grabbed your hair, dragging you off of him across the bed. You tumbled to the ground, looking up terrified seeing a dark-haired woman looking wild, her eyes filled with hatred.

“Alessia!” you heard Tony shout from near the bed as the woman dove at you.

Your vision was obstructed by a fist hitting your face. You cried out in pain, trying to curl up into yourself.

“Bitch!” you heard her yell.

Another hit landed but with less force, and you heard her being drug away, her shouting incomprehensively. Nervously, you uncovered your face, shaking like a leaf.

Eyesight clearing, you saw Tony dragging her away.

“Alessia!” He shouted again as she fought ferociously against his iron grip around her arms, his hands locked together against her chest.

“You fucking absolute bastard!” she shrieked, trying to get away from his grasp. “Is this where you were last Monday night? You missed your daughter’s preschool Thanksgiving play to fuck a whore? And one of the first things you do when you get back from a week long trip is come here? Let me go! Let me GO, Tony! Get your fucking hands off of me!”

She tore away from his grip when he loosened up and shoved him into the doorway, before slapping him with all the force she could muster across the face. Tony ate the hit, turning back with his jaw clenched but he did little to respond beyond glaring daggers at her.

Steve was there outside in the hall looking stricken, his hair wet from his shower but dressed. Aleissa let out a disgusted laugh seeing him.

“You too?” she spat at him. She pointed dangerously at him and said, “You both can fucking rot for all I care! Cecelia will fucking know about this, you piece of shit!”

Alessia’s rage was directed towards Tony again as she spat, “I can put up with the running around on me because god knows I’m not a saint. But you cannot start neglecting your family! I won’t fucking put up with it!”

She took off down the hall and Tony swore loudly, turning back to the room going towards the ground for his pants. His eyes ran around the room, discombobulated. His eyes landed on you and his mouth fell open, like he wanted to say something, but he could not form the words.

“Go! I got it!” Steve exclaimed at Tony quickly, gesturing him out the door.

Tony only hesitated for a moment before throwing his pants on and taking off out of the room after her.

Steve came to you quickly, his fingers brushing your cheek. You winced and he retracted his hand. “Fuck,” he hissed.

“What the hell?” you demanded, tears spilling over. The shock was wearing off, you feeling the pain in your jaw and cheek now.

Steve sighed heavily, telling you in explanation, “The wife.”

Terrence was in the doorway then and Steve grabbed the throw blanket from the end of the bed, tossing it around you to cover you.

“What the fuck?” Steve shouted at Terrence, over his shoulder as he tucked the blanket around you. “Why did you let her in here?”

“She had a goddamn gun pointed at me, boss! I didn’t want to cause a scene!”

“You don’t think this a scene?” Steve exclaimed, gesturing wildly at you.

“I meant in the hall. And I also didn’t wanna get shot! She’s psychotic!”

“Get the fuck out,” Steve snapped at him. “Go get Tony. Alessia is probably causing another scene down in the lobby and I don’t trust Tony and Daryl to be able to handle it by themselves! Especially with Tony half fucking dressed.”

Terrence did as he was ordered.

“Come on. Come up here,” Steve encouraged you, helping you stand and sitting you on the edge of the bed. He was trying to be calm, but you could pick up on the edge in his voice. “Sit tight.”

He left the room too. You sat on the bed, grasping the blanket tightly around you. Your breath was shuddering, trying to process what had just happened. Steve came back with a towel. Sitting on the bed next to you, he raised it and pressed it to your jaw softly. You realized he had put some ice cubes in the towel tied off with a rubber band to make a makeshift ice pack.

You should not need an ice pack because you got punched in the face, you thought, your shock of the situation melting away to anger.

You jerked away from him and he gave you a confused look. Tears came again then and you took the ice pack from him.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Steve said sincerely. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“You know where this wouldn’t have happened? Back home!” you spat at him, meeting his eyes. His expression hardened and you frankly did not care. “But no, you two forced me to come to this stupid apartment! I would’ve been safe back at the brothel!”

“Now, Y/N—” Steve started to say, sounding very much like he was going to try to talk you down, but you cut him off.

“No! You know I’m right!”

“Y/N—”

“Just get out!” you shouted at him, losing your temper. Steve was staring at you in disbelief, and he was not moving. You repeated with more force, standing up in a fury, holding the blanket tightly around you. “Leave me be! Get out!” You tossed the icepack onto your bedside table. You dove for Tony’s clothes, wallet, and his cell phone, storming towards the door and tossing them out into the hallway. You could not lock them completely out of the apartment since they had keys but goddamnit you were going to have your space in your bedroom.

You whipped back around to find Steve still sitting on the bed, stunned. You were openly crying now, and you hysterically told him, pointing out the door, “Are you fucking deaf, Steve? Get the hell out! I don’t want to fucking see either of you!”

He stood then finally, controlled, masking the shock he had displayed moments before. He walked towards you and the door, his eyes boring into you. You met him with the same ferocious gaze he was giving you as he passed, his eye contact not breaking with yours. As soon as he was clear of the door, you moved, and slammed it close behind him.

The lock fell into place.

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @icant-hangout-imdrumming @oceaniamaddness @multifandom-superlover @imsonick @holl2712 @here4thefanfics

[throughthelensofthebabypanini]

Okay so I’ve had this prompt(?)/idea(?)/plot outline(?) stuck in my mind ever since Black Panther gave me Erik “Killmonger” Stevens🥺 to drool over so here it goes:

• Post CW: Peter and Tony have been together for almost 2 years, Peter’s convinced their endgame cuz they’re both so in love. WRONG, Peter discovers that Tony’s been cheating on him with Steve for the past 6 months when Tony moans Steve’s name during sex.

• Tony tries to apologize, excuses start flying out his ass, “Baby you know you’re the only one for me.” Peter, against his better judgement, relents and they try to make it work.

• Not even a week goes by, he walks in on Tony and Steve. Tony tries to appease him but NOPE, Peter packs his bags and leaves.

• On May’s suggestion, Peter goes on sabbatical to Oakland where he decides to volunteer at the Wakandan embassy. There he starts to heal and stuff. Then, he gets the chance to actually go to Wakanda for immersion.

• In Wakanda he meets the newly healed and inducted prince N’Jadaka (Erik). It’s rough at first, Erik is closed off and Peter’s just starting to find himself again but they make it work. They complement each other and they’re beautiful together.

• 4 years later, SI is in need of Vibranium so Pepper and Tony, who’s not looking so great cuz him and Steve are just not okay, travel to Wakanda to negotiate with the Foreign Relations co chair and COO of the Wakandan Vibranium Distribution

• They arrive in a lavish conference room, set up their presentation/proposal, the door opens and a Dora Milajae announces the arrival of “the soon-to-be Prince Consort of Wakanda, the fiancée of Prince N’Jadaka, the Foreign Relations co chair and the COO of the WVD, Dr. Peter Benjamin Parker.”

• “Good morning ladies and gentlemen, shall we start the presentation? I have a meeting with our wedding planner and a cake tasting this afternoon. Who knew planning for a royal wedding was going to be so much work?” Everybody present laughs except for Tony.

• Because there in front of Tony is the man whose heart he broke looking absolutely breathtaking with a dazzling smile on his face and his heart aches remembering how much he fucked this up not just for himself but also for SI.

🤩TADAAA🤩

This actually looks more like an outline as opposed to a prompt but when I started writing the words just wouldn’t stop😅 anyways I’m just sooo glad I got this out of my system as I’ve been playing this story in my head for so long.💕✨

[xwing-baby]

Impulse: Remedy (Javier Peña x Reader)

Summary: Top of your class, the DEA have sent you to Colombia to be the poster child for their new ‘placement program’. You’re thrown in at the deep end into the drug war. With Agent Peña as your mentor, what could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: Rookie has really terrible coping mechanisms. Drug use, alcohol, swearing, derogatory language, smoking, mentions of murder(?)

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Sorry for the delay lads, for some reason this chapter did not want to be written! As always don’t sleep with your boss and don’t do drugs unless their prescription :P

<-- Previous Chapter  // Masterlist //  Next Chapter -->

-- 

You were exhausted. You hadn’t slept for more than an hour after leaving Javier’s apartment. Not for lack of trying, you thought your previous activities would have worn you out. But no. You were too scared to sleep, not wanting to deal with any nightmares that might occur so you sat on your dusty old couch, drank a vat of coffee and waited until the rest of the city woke up. 

You cursed under your breath when you saw Steve’s truck had already gone by the time you got downstairs. It was Connie’s volunteering day at the hospital, he always took her early. You had to go with Javi. You sat on the wall outside the apartment, smoking a cigarette and waiting for Javier to come outside. You had no idea what you were supposed to say to him, how were you supposed to act. You couldn’t really pretend like nothing had happened, sleeping with him like that was not something you could brush under the rug. But you didn’t want to talk to him about it, that would make it real. A real action with real consequences. If anyone found out that would be the end of your time here, and quite possibly the end of your time in the DEA entirely. 

Eventually Javier came outside, spotted you on the wall and waved. You got up, chucked the packet of cigarettes in your hand to him before you stubbed out your own and got into the truck. 

“So, do you want to talk about last night?” He asked as he lit a new cigarette.

“Not particularly. There isn’t really much to say is there?” 

“Not really,” He shrugged, “You’re not in love with me now, right?” 

“In your fucking dreams Peña. You weren’t that good,” You laughed at his audacity. You were lying, he was very good at it. But you weren’t in love with him. No, you couldn’t allow yourself even if you were. 

“You bitch,” He tried to be serious but your laugh was contagious. 

Javi immediately felt relieved, he’d spent all night worrying about you. He really didn’t want the sex to ruin everything you had going as a team. He was a little scared he had scared you off entirely but now you were laughing in his passenger seat as if nothing had ever happened all his worries were laid to rest. 

“It happened and that’s it. We don’t need to make it a thing,” You said.

“Agreed,” 

“Awesome, let’s go to work then,” 

And just like that, it was like nothing had ever happened. Back to piles of paperwork, chasing up lazy cops for their reports and trying desperately to avoid Carrillo. It was going to take time to get over what you had seen him do. You didn’t want to see him, let alone be left alone with him. You’d pushed all responsibility for anything related to him onto Javier, who in return passed you more of his paperwork. It was a fair trade off. 

At your desk, hummin away to yourself you could almost convince yourself you were fine. Thanks to the never ending cup of coffee and the sugar doughnuts you found for lunch, your energy levels were back up high. All reminders of the night before were out of sight and you were so consumed in work you didn’t notice as the day came to a close. 

“Good night last night?” Steve asked across the desk.

“Huh?” You looked up from your work. Steve motioned to his neck, and you immediately cringed. You had forgotten about the hickey. “Oh, um yeah I guess,” You pulled your jacket back on, despite the heat, as the collar would cover the mark again. 

“I thought you and Peña were out in the jungle for that lead. You would have got back super late,” Steve said. 

“Everyone’s got their vices, Murphy,” Javier reappeared, jumping to your aid. Steve looked suspiciously between you and Javi. 

“Guess you two are becoming more similar by the day,” He chuckled to himself, shaking any ideas from his mind. 

“Guess so,” You agreed. You and Javi shared a glance while Steve looked away, both of you well aware of the shit storm that would kick up if Steve found out. He loved you and Javi a lot, but there is no way he would just skip over such an event. You flashed a smile, silently thanking Javi for stepping in for you, before he went back to work again. 

To avoid any further questioning, you kept your jacket on for the remainder of the day, rather enduring the heat and cursing Javier for leaving a mark, than having anymore prying questions from Steve. When you finally gave up struggling with your mountain of paperwork, Steve offered you a ride home which you took gladly.

“You and Javi slept together last night, huh?” Steve asked as you rolled out of the embassy. Startled, you immediately went on the defense and laughed.

“Wh-what no!” You spluttered.

“I’m not an idiot, Rookie,” Steve raised an eyebrow at you. You didn’t know what to say, so shook your head and shrugged, “So Javi was talking out of his ass earlier?” He said. Your stomach immediately dropped. 

“Who’s he been talking to?” All laughter was gone from your voice. If Javi had said something that was it. Why on earth would he say anything? 

“So something did happen?” Steve exclaimed, happy that his hunch was right.

“Steve,” You sighed heavily. Relieved for only a moment before more dread piled on. 

“I can’t believe you two,” He said shaking his head, “I mean I was kind of expecting it with Javi’s reputation but I thought you had some standards at least,” 

“You weren’t there, you don’t get it. It wasn’t anything meaningful just- things happen sometimes,” You sighed, “Did he actually say anything to you?” 

“No,” He spoke more sympathetically now, “but I figured something was up, you’ve been acting weird all morning,” 

“That’s more to do with the lack of sleep,” You explained, “Yesterday got a bit… dark. I don’t think I slept at all,” 

“Carrillo?” Steve asked. You nodded solemnly, “You’ll get used to it,” 

You didn’t get used to it. That night haunted you. You couldn’t sleep, every time you shut your eyes the tortured man's face stared back at you. You were practically intolerable come the end of the week. You’d fallen asleep at your desk on multiple occasions, snapped at everyone in the office, and drank enough coffee to fill an Olympic swimming pool. You made a secretary cry by snapping at her over some missing evidence and, had broken the phone on your desk. 

As bad as your week had ended up being you still had to go out at the end of it. Instead of curling up with a movie and takeout you had to attend María’s family’s party. You didn’t know why you were invited but you definitely couldn’t back out of it. You’d hoped by now you would have cheered up, that you would be excited to let loose but you were miserable.

The party itself was gorgeous. Set out in the countryside, an hour from Medellin, the hills made for a beautiful backdrop. The Parreño’s summer house was exactly as you had expected, lavish and decadent. Courtyards filled with marble statues and paintings by various famous artists covered the walls. Lights were strung up around the garden between the pool house and a gazebo creating a colourful glow out onto the golden sky. 

The air was full of conversation and music. Even though you were surrounded by people who would kill you if they found out who you really were, somehow with a drink in your hand you felt a little more relaxed. María had leant you a dress, a simple little black number, and fixed your makeup in the car ride here while excitedly telling you about her cousin from Argentina she was going to set you up with. You were at the very least, on the way to being happy. 

María dragged you around introducing you to so many people you couldn’t remember their names. You gave up trying after ten different people María introduced as her auntie. You smiled and politely complimented their outfit or their hair and moved on. That was until you finally recognised someone. Senator Parreño, a regular face in your life. You prayed he wouldn’t recognise you, you had only met him once, sitting in the back of the ambassador's office while they spoke about something. Like most people, he ignored you that day and hopefully he wouldn’t have a clue now.

“Dad this is my friend, Isabela,” María introduced you. You were taken back for a moment. You knew her family was rich, but a senator for a father made them powerful too. Far more influence and scandal with their new link to Escobar too. 

“Nice to meet you,” You smiled and shook his hand. The senator looked puzzled.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” He asked. Your heart skipped a beat. 

“Oh stop it Dad I talk about her all the time, she’s been to our house a lot,”

“No, no it’s from somewhere else,” He squinted at you, looking you up and down. You could feel yourself sweating as you nervously took a big gulp of the cocktail in your hand.

“Isabela works at the American embassy papa, maybe you’ve just seen her there,” María said.

“I am a secretary,” You added quickly, “Usually running around the place, you probably saw me then,” You laughed nervously. Outwardly, you knew you looked normal but inside you were panicking massively.

“Ah I see,” He nodded, not entirely convinced. Luckily before he could interrogate you further or work out who you actually were, María linked arms with you and pulled your attention away.

“Come on, I just spotted Carlos. You will love him,” 

--

Three things you had learnt about Carlos. One, he could and should be in a magazine. He was stunningly handsome in a shirt with far too many buttons undone you were practically drooling over him. Two, he was smart. An engineer. A very upstanding career especially compared to the occupation of most of the people at the party. And three, he really liked cocaine. That part did let him down quite a bit.

Hidden away from the prying eyes of parents and older generations, María, Diego, Carlos and multiple others you did not remember the names of, sat around listening to Carlos rave about the new recipe his friend had told him about. You listened carefully, if your hangover didn’t delete this information in the morning it would be great. Could finally have something to show for your weeks with María. 

Carlos pulled out a pack of the new cocaine and poured out a good pile. You watched them all take a line. Part of you was interested in seeing what it was like. It must be good if everyone was so addicted to the stuff. You handled some much of the powder on a daily basis but you’d never even tried it. Seemed almost ridiculous. Maybe it was what you needed to finally relax a little, the alcohol wasn’t hitting the spot. One line wouldn’t kill you.

“Want some?” María offered, wiping her nose of residue. You shook your head. 

“I’m going to the bathroom,” You announced, standing up from your seat on the couch. You climbed over María out of the circle of people. You could use their distraction to your advantage now. Now María wasn’t holding on to you you could actually go and investigate. Now with two Narcos connected attendees at least and the revelation that Senator Parreño was María’s father, any information you could find giving a definite link would be huge. 

“Don’t be a pussy Isabela!” Diego hollered. 

“Oh leave her alone, she’s only going for a moment,” María shoved her boyfriend playfully, “She’ll do it later,” 

“Pacing myself,” You agreed with a smile. 

“Miss you already!” María called after you before dissolving into fits of giggles.

Inside, the house was quiet. Only a couple of people sat in the living room downstairs and they paid no attention to you as you walked inside. 

You walked up a set of elegant marble stairs, deciding upstairs may be your best option so not to get caught. Two long corridors led off the stairs, with doors leading off each side. You were looking for an office, that would be the place any paperwork would be kept. You would need letters, or meeting schedules. Something to prove a link. 

You turned left, and hit the jackpot with the first try. Senator Parreño’s home office.You pushed the door open slowly, checking nobody had followed you before going inside. The office was immaculate, just as grand as the rest of the house. A large portrait of Maria’s family hung over the back of the desk, all of their eyes watching you as you searched through the room. 

The room was full of things. One wall taken up by a set of shelves full of books and photographs and different trinkets of different sides. A leather couch sat in the window overlooking the gardens. 

You came to the desk last. The top was clear of anything bar a photo of his wife, a line of pens and a rolodex. You flicked through it, found nothing of interest. 

You stood up to find something you could use to pick the locks when you heard heavy footsteps from outside the door. You stood still for a moment, hoping to hear the footsteps go in the opposite direction down the hall. They got closer. 

Before you were caught red handed, you made your escape. Racing to the door, you hoped you would have enough time to slip out without being caught. Quietly as possible, you opened the door.

“Isabela,” María’s father’s voice came from behind you as you shut the door. You turned around quickly, smiling innocently.

“Hi Mr Parreño!” You exclaimed, “Do you know where the bathroom is? I can’t find it?” 

“It’s not in there,” He looked at your hand on the door, which you quickly removed and stepped away from.

“You’re house is just huge. I can’t ever seem to remember where I am going here,” You laughed nervously, “I’ll try down the hall,” You turned around and began to walk away, your 

“I’d learn to be more careful, Agent,” The senator said after you. Your heart stopped. Slowly, you turned back around to face him again, “I guess you are here for my daughter’s stupid boyfriend?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You said slowly, your mouth slow to catch up with your brain which was already working out the multiple ways to get out of the house safely. 

“You can quit your act, I won’t say anything,” He laughed dryly. 

“No act,” You shook your head, “I didn’t lie, I really don’t know what you are talking about. I am not here investigating Diego. María invited me” 

“I remembered where I saw you. You were with those DEA agents,” 

“I work with them sometimes, we’re friends,” You shrugged. 

“You’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you?” He was on to you

“I’m sorry but I really do need the bathroom, if you could direct me there that would be great. I’ve had far too much to drink,” 

“Down there, fourth on the right,” 

“Thank you,” You walked away quickly, heart thumping against your ribcage at an alarming rate. He knew who you were! He knew exactly who you were! 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” You cursed under your breath. 

You quickly spiralled, thinking off all the worst possible things that could happen now. Parreño would tell someone else who you were, maybe he would do something now. You were alone, neither Peña or Murphy knew where you were, out in the middle of nowhere it would be pretty simple to get rid of your body. You didn’t even find any evidence, you reasoned with yourself and he wouldn’t want any suspicion to his name. He probably wouldn’t kill you. 

Taking another deep breath as you tried to calm your rattling heart. Your hands gripped the cold porcelain of the sink and slowly you relaxed again. You couldn’t go back out looking like you were scared, that would give you up entirely. You looked at your face in the mirror, at least outwardly you didn’t look too bad. Your makeup had shifted a little but you still looked ok. You were fine. 

After another round of deep breaths and a pep talk to yourself, you stepped out of the bathroom and put a game face on. 

“Isabela! You’re back!” María exclaimed as you returned to the group. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” Your voice was not convincing as you watched the senator walk past. He looked at your briefly, a knowing glint in his eye as he clocked you. “Can I have some?” You nodded to the coke on the table as an impulsive and reckless idea came into your head. There was no way he could continue to think you were DEA if you did this. Either that or he would just think you were an idiot and not press you again. 

“Finally you stop being a complete baby! Come here!” María cheered. 

You stood up and stepped over to where María was knelt. You joined her on the floor, watching carefully as she lined the powder up with a card from the table. She presented it to you with a flourish, laughing again. 

Surprisingly, you were not scared. The adrenaline of the close call was pacing through your veins. Your mind was so full of fear and anxiety, the idea of finally getting some relief was enticing.

You felt calm, no anxiety in your body holding you back anymore you took the drug from the table. You made a face of discomfort and spluttered a bit when it hit the back of your throat. The people around you laughed, but you didn’t feel embarrassed. It took a moment, but soon you felt the effects. All inhibition and anxiety left your body, you felt lighter and buzzing with energy. 

“See, it’s good right?” Maria smiled. You nodded enthusiastically. 

--

You woke up the next morning, tired and hungover. You couldn’t remember much of the night, but turning over to see Carlos naked next to you gave you a good idea of what had happened. He drove you back to Medellin a few hours later, his sports car was a very nice change from the cars you usually drove in. He was a sweet guy and you talked the entire journey home.

“Will I see you again?” He asked as he pulled up a little way from your apartment. You pretended to think about it for a moment, before breaking into a smile and nodding. “Perfect,” He smiled. You got out of the car, the happy smile not leaving your face as you waved and walked away. 

You watched his car pull away before turning in the direction of your apartment. You still had an identity to hide afterall, even if he was nice you couldn’t let him see where you actually lived. There was still a threat of Parreño exposing you, if Carlos knew where  you lived too it was only a matter of time before everyone would be in danger too.

“So that’s where you were,” Javier called out to you across the street as you approached. He sat on the steps of the apartment building, enjoying the sunshine, smoking and drinking a beer. “Getting laid,”

“Not jealous are you, Javi?” You smirked. 

“No! You’re an adult you can do what you want,” He said with a laugh. A jealous twinge in his chest caught him off guard but he couldn’t let you know that, “You look nice by the way, it’s a cute dress,” 

“Thanks,” You blushed a little. He shuffled out the way to let you pass him and climb the stairs. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me,”

“Sure,” You shut the door behind you leaving Javi alone again. He sighed heavily, blowing out his smoke. He never got jealous, but you had done something to him.  He initially put the feeling down the worry. He was concerned for you, going undercover was not something you should be doing at all and from the small amounts you had told him it could be more dangerous than you had first thought. But seeing you step out of that car, seeing you kiss the driver, he knew it was jealousy. 

He wanted to have you close all the time, to protect you. You were perfectly capable of protecting yourself, and had shown that on many occasions but the idea of someone else holding you the way he had made him feel sick. That feeling in turn made him angry. He shouldn’t be feeling any type of way towards you, you were a team mate. He was your mentor. 

He’d brought it all on himself, he shouldn’t have ever invited you in that night. He would have to suffer through the feeling until it went away, you could never know.

--

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[justreadingfics]

It’s a Deal (Chapter 3)

Chapter Summary: You have a reason to celebrate and need a partner to do that.  

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 6.2k

Warnings:+18 only, smut, sex in a public place, boytoy!Bucky, casual sex, opened relationship, drinking, sorority.

A/N: Here’s one more filthy chapter for you guys. It won’t always be that way since the plot moves forward, but it will still be focused on smut for the next couple of chapters. Our reader deserves some fun before things get a bit more complicated, right? The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated. Tag list for this story is closed.  

Screen after screen pops in the air in front of you as you furiously type codes and formulas on them. You’re there, you’re almost there. You’ve been working on this project for months and now it finally seems like you’re getting somewhere.

“Coffee?”

You just nod as an answer to Camilla, your partner on that project. She gets up and walks out to go get the coffee. She already told you if it was up to her, you’ve already given up. But you know you’re getting there. You haven’t stopped working ever since early hours and you’re feeling inspired and focused as ever.

When you’re satisfied with the input you add to the system which is working on the calculations, you sit back. Eyes on the screen displayed in the air. Camilla comes back with your coffees and hands one to you, fixing her eyes on the screen, too as she stands beside you.

“Come on, come on,” you whisper.

Bringing the coffee to your lips you almost choke on it when the answer you were so desperately looking for gleams on the screen.

“Holy shitballs,” you shout and swiftly gets up, letting your cup drop to the floor, splashing the liquid around.

“Oh, fuck,” Camilla gasps and you two look at each other with paired up widened eyes before letting out a cheerful scream and holding each other, jumping around as you gain the attention of the other workers from the several small offices of the Avengers/Stark Technology Department.

A clear of throat takes you and your friend out of your reverie, catching your attention. When you see Sharon Carter on your door, with a smirk on her lips, you two cease the celebration, but keep the smiles on your faces.

“Hey, Sh- Director,” you quickly correct yourself, being friends with Natasha brought you close to Sharon, too. But now she’s Director of Shield, after Nick Fury became coordinator of the Avengers, therefore you should show some respect at least at workplaces, “Remember that Shield and Avengers’ joined project? The one where we were trying to build a device that would crack alien secret services codes?”

“Yeah, sure, our tech departments have been working for months to find an algorithm.” Sharon nods.

“Well, looks like we made it.” You point at the screen right in front of you.

“What the hell?” She shoots an eyebrow high and steps into the office, eyes analyzing the screen between you two.

“We doesn’t quite cut it, Director,” Camilla says, rolling her eyes, “She worked her ass off and got to it by herself. She’s been killing it these last few days.”

You huff, shaking your head. You’ve been really inspired, indeed. And you might relate it to a certain physical activity you’ve been engaging on recently and the outrageous amount of energizing orgasms you’ve been gifted with almost daily… not a topic to be brought out now, though.  

“Ooo, someone seems extra inspired…” Sharon narrows her eyes, but you try to not indulge any possible insinuation by just ignoring the comment with a smile, “Well, that’s amazing news,” she resumes, clapping her hands once, “and it kind of leads to the subject that brought me here, would you mind excuses for a second, Camilla?” She kindly asks.

“Of course, not. I’ll be in my office.” Camilla says, not holding back from hugging you and squirming in excitement one more time before walking out the room.

“This is huge, huh?” Sharon comments, pulling up the chair you pointed for her as you sit on yours.  

“It is, can you imagine what Natasha will be able to do with it?” You grin, brushing your hands together.

“Thanks to your badass brain,” she compliments before narrowing her eyes at you again, “You have a weird happy face.”

“Well, something amazing just happened…”

“Yeah, yeah…” Sharon brushes you off, “You’re killing it at your job and that’s amazing… but to be honest, I expected to still see you moping around about your break up.”

“I’m still sad about it, but work has been great, and-”

“Oh, cut the crap,” Sharon interrupts with a playful snap and you frown while she crosses her arms in front of her, holding back a laugh, “I’ve been texting with Natasha, I know about you and your boytoy.”

“What the hell?” Your eyes widen as you throw your arms to the air, already feeling your cheeks warming, “She’s on a mission and you two have been talking about my… sex life?” You lean over across the table and whisper the last part.

“We can multitask,” Sharon shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“Oh, wow…” you scoff, “That’s two of the greatest spies on earth right.”

“Alright,” She chuckles, unfolding her arms and leaning over the table, “As much as I want to know all about it, that’s not why I’m here.”

“Ok,” you quickly accept the change of subject for your own relief, “Why are you here for, then?”

“To tell you that Stark is a jerk,” she deadpans.

“Ok… cool,” you drag the words, side eyeing her, “And?”

“Long story short, I lost you in a chess match and now you’re the new leader of Avengers/Stark Tech Department.”

You don’t quite assimilate what she just said as you keep your questioning stare on her, not finding the link between her words and, most of all, did she just say you’ve been promoted?

“I’m sorry, what?” You shake your head shutting your eyes for a second, finally asking for clarification after what seemed like the longest staring contest ever.

“Well,” Sharon sighs, “You know how competitive Stark and I can be and when I decided to act by ethics and told him I was considering offering you the leadership position at Shield’s tech department he decided he would do the same and dared me to a chess match, where you would be the prize.” She shrugs, “I’m sure he had some help, right Friday,” she raises her voice staring up to the air but gains plain silence as a response from the A.I, “He won and got to keep you and I got  stuck with my second option which is your ex, as you might already know.”

“Wow,” you whisper, not really sure what to say or feel, trying to process all of what you just heard.

“You’re not offended by the chess match, are you?” Sharon checks, tilting her head.

“No… I’m kinda… flattered, I guess.” You frown and Sharon gives you a satisfied smile. “But… I’m confused… That’s Stark’s job.”

“It’s your job now if you should accept it.” She grins wider, “I guess he’s been thinking about it for a while now and saw my offering as an opportunity. I know Pepper has been on his ass for him to loosen up from some responsibilities, and who better than you to take over?” She points up at the screen with your recent achievement.

You let out a breathy laugh, reality finally dawning. Not in a million years you thought that would happen but now that it is, you’re not gonna be modest, you kick ass in your job and you fucking deserve it.

“He’s on a mission with Nat and Steve now, so he asked me to come talk to you, hang on…” Sharon holdsup a finger, before grabbing a small device from her pocket, which you recognize as one of your projects. “Stark,” she says.

In a second the image of a very battered Tony surfaces on the air as the camera captures his face from under the suit.  

“Hey, Carter,” he greets with a smirk as you hear the sounds of blasts, shots and explosions. The man is in the middle of a damn battle while casually answering a call.  

“Stark,” Sharon answers just as casually, “I have her here with me, just delivered the news,” she says, turning his image to you.

“Hey, boss,” you give him a shy wave.

“Hey, kid.” He scrunches up his face, shooting a series of blasts before you listen to something exploding. “I think you’re sort of my boss now.” He focuses on you again, smirking.

“No, I’m not,” you laugh.

“No, you’re not. But, tell me, what’s your answer?”

“I take it, of course.” You decide, why in the world, wouldn’t you.

“Great. Party to celebrate when we come back. Gotta go, these damn Kree are the worst. Will not invite them.” He turns off and his image disappears from before you.

“Well, congratulations.” Sharon places the device back on her pocket, “Our departments work a lot together, so I think I win either way.”

A mix of emotions fill up your chest. You’re excited and happy and scared. Mostly excited, though…  “Holy shit,” you curse, digging your hands into your hair as a grin seems to twist your lips permanently.

“You need to celebrate…” Sharon adds, offering you a cheeky grin.

Fuck yeah, you need to celebrate. And you know exactly what, or better, who you wanna do.

~~~

“How the hell are you wet already?”

The words are spoken against your neck through licks and sucks, after Bucky’s fingers glided under your underwear and sank between your slick folds. As soon as he walked into your living room, he jumped on you with kisses and grabs, discovering you in such a state without his previous help.

Well, sort of without his help, actually. The thing is, after you got out of work that afternoon, you didn’t even need to call him or text him to propose your little celebration as you found a series of texts from “Bucky Sweet Tongue Barnes”  waiting for you. In the first, he was asking if you had any plans that night, and the others… oh, the others… the fucker described all sorts of filthy things he wanted to do with you.

After a quick answer for him to come over and a long bath, all the dirty details he used on his texts refused to leave your mind and you couldn’t help but spending the rest of the time you had alone before he arrived teasing yourself with your fingers, having all those images and flashes from your last encounters in your memory to keep you going.

“I-“ you gasp as he sucks that sensitive spot in your neck and his fingers meet your clit, “Those texts you sent me…” You tilt your head to give his lips more room, your hands roaming around the hard pattern of muscles on his back, “I-I’ve been touching myself.” You confess with the lack of pudency you’re becoming familiar with when you’re around him.

In your arms, you feel when his body freezes for a second, before he sucks harder on your neck, “Fuck… did you come today already?” He gropes your ass under your dress with the hand that isn’t in your pussy. 

Your eyelids flutter and you reach down to the front of his pants to feel the growing bulge, “Yes…”

“Goddammit, that’s hot,” he grunts, and then it all happens in a blur as he lifts you by hooking his hands under your thighs and places you seated over the dinner table.

He positions himself between your opened legs as lifting up your short dress out of his way and, while you swiftly work on the buttons and zipper of his jeans, he takes a condom out of his pockets and, after ripping the plastic off with his teeth he hands it to you.

His eyes cast down to see your fingers rolling off the latex around his rock hard cock and, as soon as you’re done and wrap your hand around him to feel his thickness, he wastes no time and pushes you backwards until your back meets the cold wood of your table. 

Acting by the frenzy that is all over his eyes, he swiftly pulls the small fabric of your underwear to the side, exposing your cunt just enough before he holds his cock and pushes himself inside you, making you cry out and your body jerk backwards. You always knew spending an exorbitant amount of money on a good table would pay off someday and you hold yourself fisting each side of the table.

He pulls your thighs up wrapping his hands on your knees, giving you no time to adjust before starting to pound into you.

You love that he fucks you like that. Hard and raw, the sting of the stretching mixed with the pleasure brought by his expert thrusts fogging your mind and his thickness and expert moves hitting sweet spots of yours, kicking the air out of your lungs. You love that in the few times you’ve been doing it in the last week, he already seems to know what you can take and always somehow goes a little further, a little different… like he knows something about yourself that you don’t, yet. That it’s the first time that you two can’t be bothered to wait and take off clothes or get to the bedroom. You love it.

It is all new to you, yes. For you sex has always been attached to some kind of affection or romantic feelings and, while that is all good and wonderful, you’re enjoying so much finding out this other side, where the only goals are to share pleasure and have fun. 

“So fucking sexy,” he groans through clenched teeth.

Your core twists in response and your cunt clenches around his cock, causing him to let out a grunt and quicken his pace even more, making it extra difficult to breathe properly. Oh, he’s found out that praise kink of yours and now he’s been using it wisely, so wisely…

He reaches over to pull down the stripe of your dress and exposes one breast. A loud moan slips out of you when he roughly kneads the soft flesh. He keeps the metal hand around one of your knees while the leg he let go in favor to give your breast some attention curls around his hips, jerking along with the punishing pace of his thrusts.

“Yeah, sweetheart, so sexy… I’ve wanted to have you like this ever since I first saw that sweet ass of yours,” he confesses right before leaning over to wrap his mouth around your nipple.

You’ve been horny the whole day waiting for the moment you would have his cock inside you just like that and the praise, as tacky as it may be, joined with the warmth of his wet tongue around your breast and the stimulation against your clit that the new position brings prompt the blast of ecstasy inside your core.

With a trembling moan, you let go the edges of the table to hold his body pressed to yours as his mouth moves from your breast to attack your neck. You roll your hips, trying to prolong the pleasure unleashed as his pace falters.

The fingers of both his hands dig into your hair, making a mess of it as he pulls out his cock almost completely before shoving it deeply and harshly one more time, grunting out his own release.  

“Fuck,” it slips from under his heavy breath before he clasps his lips on yours. The kiss is wet and sloppy and lazy as you have your legs and arms curled around his body, keeping him inside you.

Still feeling a little numb from the orgasm he just gave you – a thousand times better than the one you had given yourself- you gasp and chuckle through the kiss as he straightens up and pulls you with him. You tighten the hold of your arms and legs, as he conveniently holds you by your ass until he finds the couch and sits down with you straddling his hips. He breaks the kiss and lets his head fall on the backrest, his chest moving up and down as he tries to catch his breath.

You move up to let his cock slide off but he tightens the hold on your ass, keeping you in place, “Just… let me stay in a bit more, it feels so good,” he says, eyes shut, still resting his head back on the sofa.

“Alright,” you chuckle, straddling his face with your arms as you place your hands on the backrest. You find the request a bit odd but also sexy as hell. There he is, always a step ahead on what you don’t even know you think it’s hot…   

After a few more seconds, when his breath – and yours- seems to come back to normal, he straightens his head and looks down at where you still have just one breast exposed. He ticks his tongue, “Let’s not make the other one feel left out.” He pulls your other strap, letting now both of your breasts bare to him before he dips in, grabbing the up till now covered one with his lips.

You shake your head, laughing at his antics, “You seem pretty fond of them, huh?”

He lets go of the mound with a pop, looking up at you with an almost shocked expression on his face, “How could I not?” he gasps, like you’ve just offended him, “I don’t know how you see them in the mirror everyday and don’t touch yourself…” he squints at you before continuing, “You do, don’t you?”

You laugh harder, letting your head fall back and he smiles at you before going back to give your tits some attention, kissing and sucking one, then the other. Noticing that his cock never really softens completely inside you, you let him enjoy himself a bit more before speaking again, “Did you mean that?”

“What?” He leans back, looking up at you.

“You said you wanted to fuck me ever since you met me… is that serious? I didn’t even know you remembered me before we… started this.”

“First of all, I’m always serious, I never lie,” he says, adding some gravity to his tone, “Second of all, remember that night a while ago, when I chatted with you and your boyfriend at a Stark’s party and then your sexy ass talked about your work with technology with such passion… you knew exactly what you were talking about and, fuck…” he licks his lips, ”I rubbed one out for you later that night,” he smirks, clasping his hands behind his head.

Your jaw drops at the reveal before your face scrunches up, “That’s…gross?” you say the first word that comes to mind.

“But it’s true,” he shrugs, looking pretty comfortable with the confession, “and ever since I’ve been thinking about tapping that smart ass of yours.” He emphasizes his point by slapping your ass once.

Despite that and his choice of words - which makes your cheeks heat up - and your previous statement of being grossed out by the revelation, you decide you take that as kind of a compliment, which leads you to give him the news.

“You know?” you say, “I was promoted today. You just fucked the new leader of the Avengers/Stark tech department,” you grin when his practically hard cock twitches inside you.

“Wow, congratulations.” His eyes widen and he grins back at you. 

“Never thought I would meet someone with a technology kink,” you comment, laughing at his first reaction to the news.

“More of a smart as fuck brain kink, sweetheart,” he reaches behind you to slap your ass for the second time that night, making you shriek and laugh a bit harder, “Ok, we need to celebrate,” he states.

“I am celebrating,” you aim a mischievous smile at him, rolling your hips for good measure.

“Damn,” he breathes, but holds your hips still, “No, I mean, you’ve been in a relationship for ten years, tell me…” he squints at you, “When was the last time you partied your ass off?”

“Ahm…” you think hard trying to remember when it was, “College, I guess?”

“Shit…” he lowers his head before swiftly getting up, making you lunge your arms on his shoulders so you wouldn’t fall back as he walks to your bedroom, “Come on, let’s freshen up. This is huge news… I’ll take you to a real party now and then we can continue our private one later,” he promises.

~~~

As soon as you walk in the rooftop bar Bucky has chosen, you already decide you did good in accepting his offer. The place is gorgeous, sporting a modern, yet cozy decoration with small tables, sofas and puffs for those who want to sit. Dazzling lights flash on the dance floor right by a huge bar and the view of the city is mesmerizing while the beat of the music reverberates through your body.

Bucky pulls you by the hand through the sea of bodies. Thank god you chose one of the fanciest dresses of your wardrobe or else you wouldn’t fit in among the beautiful people crowding the place. Every once in a while, Bucky waves and nods at someone or a group of people. You can tell he’s a regular.  

He waves more excitedly to a group of women hanging on a mezzanine, before pulling you to that direction, “Come on,” he tilts his head back towards you with a smile, “You’ll love them.”

As soon as you approach the group, he puts his arm around your shoulders and introduces you to everyone, telling you the names of each stunning woman before you, Amanda, Emma, Jada, Alice and Brianna. They all friendly greet him and you with smiles, excited hellos and hugs, welcoming you two to join them, which you do.

“You know, Y/N was promoted today,” Bucky gushes and you smile at him.

“Oh, wow,” Amanda says through the cheerful congratulating words from everyone else, “This calls for champagne.” She then whistles and makes a sign for a bartender, who in a matter of seconds sends two bottles of fancy champagne to the group. 

A few minutes after the toast, you’re drinking and chatting with those women like you’ve been best friends your whole life, especially with Amanda, who goes out of her way to make you feel included. You can see how close they all are to Bucky, like he’s one of the gang, talking about any kind of subject in front of him and vice versa. Bucky stays by your side, and only when you’re completely mingled with the group he excuses himself to go grab what he called “a real drink” at the bar.

“He’s incredible, isn’t he?” Amanda nudges you when Bucky is at a distance he can’t hear.

“Oh yeah,” you nod, “Bucky’s a great guy.”

“She means in bed, dear,” Brianna clarifies with a giggle.

You take a look around the group to see them all giving you mischievous and knowing stares. Oh…

“Oh, did all of you…?” you point your finger at them, but you don’t have to complete the question

“More like all of this rooftop,” Brianna laughs, followed shortly by the others.  

“So, he’s amazing isn’t he?” Amanda insists, wiggling her eyebrows.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the fact that they all seem so friendly and open minded, but something makes you blurt out, “Amazing? He’s fucking fantastic.”

They all nod and verbalize their agreement, “I tell you all something,” Jada catches your attention, “That man drinks respect women juice daily and we owe him a toast. Here’s to Bucky,” she raises her glass.

“To Bucky.” You all mimic her through laughing and make a toast to the unsuspicious man at the bar.

As the conversation moves on and they all engage in different topics your gaze wanders to where he stands, holding a glass with some liquor that looks like whiskey in hands. But he’s not alone anymore. A statuesque blond is right beside him, laughing and touching his arm. You glimpse that flirting smile of him forming on his lips.

“You don’t mind do you?” Amanda’s voice makes you turn to her, spotting a questioning look on her face, “Because if you do… Girl, run away now, Bucky isn’t right for you.” There’s no malice on her voice, just a sincere warning tone.

You seize the moment to make an honest survey through your feelings. You’ve been warned by different people, Bucky included, and if there’s anything to worry about, Amanda is right, you should run now. As you keep your eyes on the two of them by the bar, you look and look and look inside, but find nothing that could be remotely taken as jealousy or something like that. If anything, it’s kind of liberating to know that you have so much fun with him and there’s no ugly, selfish feelings pulling you back. You feel like you could encourage the blonde on the flirting, because you know how damn incredible it can be…

Who would wonder that a class A womanizer like Bucky would be the source of such sheer sorority you’ve been experiencing that night…

“No,” you turn back to Amanda, shaking your head with a satisfied smile, “I don’t mind at all.”

The night goes on and Bucky comes and goes, chatting and drinking and laughing with you and your new little group of friends, taking you to dance, but also dancing with Amanda, Emma, Alice, Jada, Brianna and some others… A number of guys also approach you, take you to dance, buy you drinks and you end up with a few new phone numbers in your contact list. You party like you haven’t in a while and like you didn’t think women your age still did, which is stupid… You’ve been so caught up in the routine of your relationship with Eddie that you’ve forgotten there’s a whole world spinning out there.

An exciting and fun world.

“Hey,” the familiar voice reaches your ear and makes you smile as you’re on the dance floor with the girls. The metal hand curls around your belly and pulls you before your back brushes against his chest, “Having fun?” Bucky asks, lips on your ears.

“Yes, so much.” You tilt your head and place your hands over his while his hips sway with yours.

“Hummm,” he pulls you closer and runs the tip of his nose over the length of your neck, “I’m glad.”

“However…” you sigh, loving how his hips move in rhythm with yours, “I think I’m ready to continue our other party at home.”

“Funny,” he chuckles and his tongue darts out before he swiftly brushes it against your neck. It’s quick and very discreet, but enough to set your core into flames, “I was thinking the exact same thing.”

With that, you promptly let go of him and proceed to say goodbye to the girls. They all tell their farewells and wishes to see you again soon with knowing and excited looks.

~~~

“You were right, I had so much fun.” You wrap an arm around his elbow as you walk side by side through the streets of New York. The bar isn’t that far from your condo and when he suggested a walk back home you thought it was a good idea to check on the lively corners of the city, even with the heels. Also, he offered his leather jacket against the cold, which you promptly accepted.

“Oh, yeah, nightlife in New York nowadays is something we shouldn’t take for granted,” he smiles down at you, “And yeah, you had fun alright, I know there are a few extra numbers in your phone,” he winks.

You analyze his face and when you understand there’s nothing but playful teasing behind it, you answer, “Oh, yeah, oh my God,” you shake your head, “That was unexpected but fun. I might delete them all, though, things might get complicated and I’m not looking for any kind of complications right now.”

He smiles, seemingly satisfied for you taking him out of the complicated category. “You and the girls seemed to get along real fine, too,” he comments.   

“They’re really great,” you nod, getting cozier in his arm as a gust of wind hits you, “They all think very highly of you, by the way,” you let the smirk in your lips tell him what you mean.

“I work hard for that, sweetheart.” He chuckles and wiggles his eyebrows at you.

You let out a laugh, “That you do.” You look up at him from under your lashes, before whispering, “I can’t wait to see you working hard.”

He halts his pace, making you abruptly stop with him. You shoot him a questioning look, as he gazes down at you, his face lightening up like the best of ideas has just crossed his mind. Without further notice he unwraps his arm from yours and takes your hand instead, pulling you with him at a faster pace as he turns on the corner, changing the course that would lead to your home.

“Hey,” you call out, as you try not to trip on your heels as he pulls you, deflecting from the other patrons and leading the way, “What the hell are you doing?”

He looks back at you with that sinful smile of his, “Don’t wanna leave you waiting.”

Something flips inside your stomach in anticipation at his statement and, as he turns around a few corners, the streets seem to get less busy. When you reach a particular spot, he checks each side, like surveying the area before pulling you to a dark alleyway you haven’t even seen before.

As soon as you out of the street he pins you against the wall and crashes his lips on yours, shoving his leg between yours to keep you in place with the help of the firm grip of his metal hand on your hips.

Like a puppet on his strings you wrap your arms around his neck and respond to the inebriant kiss immediately even if you’re still astonished by it all and when he squeezes one of your tits through the fabric of your dress and his mouth leaves your mouth to drag kisses over your neck, you tilt your head to see the light peeking from the streets, so close to where you’re both standing. 

“Bucky…” a gasp swallows your words for a second as he presses his thigh harder against your pussy, “What the hell, someone can see us,” you remind him, knowing exactly where this will lead if you don’t stop him now. You can already feel the pool of heat in your lower body as he playfully nibbles on your lower lip before going back to your neck.

“Isn’t it exciting, to think someone can spot us while I have my dick inside you.” He licks a long stripe from your neck to behind your ear.

The mention of his dick makes you let out a wanton moan, but you’re not won over yet, “It’s a fucking dark alley in the middle of the night in New York City, Bucky. We will be murdered here.”

At this, all of his enticing movements pause, and he dips his head back with an offended glare at you, “Do I have to remind you who you’re literally fucking with?” he asks, outrage all over his voice, “The Winter Fucking Soldier, White Wolf and shit… the strongest Avenger,” he chant the names and you can’t help but chuckle a bit, “Don’t worry,” leans over to resume from where he stopped, “I can fuck you and protect you at the same time.”

You need no more convincing since that’s actually damn hot and you’re more than sold to the exciting game when he flips you over and kneels down behind you. Listening to your own erratic heartbeats prompted by the electrifying danger of it all, you sprawl your hands on the wall as he sinks his hands under your dress and pulls your underwear down your legs, placing it in his pocket once you step out of it.

He bunches your dress up high enough to give him room and you shudder and sucks in a breath as he props one kiss, then another on the back of each of your thighs, “Try to be quiet…” he says, but swiftly adds, “Not too quiet, though, I love to hear you.”

With that he spreads your legs a little farther and sinks his tongue into the apex of your thighs from behind.  Your jaw drops and your knees buckle as he holds your hips still against his face. While his tongue curls around your sensitive pussy your mind blanks and you whimper, trying to suppress a moan, not forgetting you’re right in the open air of New York. Your hips roll against his face, seeking for more friction to untie the knot forming inside you.

But too soon he ceases contact and stands up. You express your disappointment with a whine, face snapping to glare at him behind you.

He’s wearing a smirk on his face as he grabs another condom from his pocket. You wonder how many he has in stash, “You wanted to come on my mouth, didn’t you?” he teases, holding the package between his teeth as he unbuckles his pants.

“Of course,” you shamelessly admit under your breath.

“I know sweetheart… But my dick is aching for you, too,” letting his pants and boxes fall along his legs, he unleashes his hard cock and proceeds on putting on the condom, throwing the plastic package aside, “I was prepping you for it,” he continues, eyes fastened on yours as he speaks, “You want it, don’t you? You want my dick? Come all over it?”

You lick your lips and your gaze falls to look at his rock hard cock, feeling your wetness dripping down your inner thighs. Now that’s an offer you can’t refuse, “Yes, I wanna soak that fucking dick,” you groan, not caring how tacky all the dirty talk may be, since it all sounds sexy as fuck now, clouding all of your senses.

“Shit… take it then, sweetheart.” Guiding his cock with his hand, he pulls your hips and in one single shove he’s inside you.

You let out a silent cry and rest your cheek on your hand against the wall, as the other reaches down to your clit, to help ease down the sumptuous twists inside your core as he pounds into you.  

The sounds and lights of the cars passing by on the street right next to you reminds you how exposed you are and fuck if you’re not gonna come quicker than you ever did as Bucky holds your hips with both of his hands, moving them as fast as he pleases, thrusting them back against his cock. You can feel the fire reaching its peak inside you.

“So fucking wet,” he whispers, breathing hard as he fucks any remaining signs of better judgement out of you and you know it won’t be long for him, either.

You let out a loud moan and it prompts him to pull you pressed against his chest and cover your mouth with his hand, “Shhh.” His hot breath coats your ear and your head falls back on his shoulder as he keeps the delicious pounding of his cock inside you with no hint of mercy.

The damn alley spins around you and you wish you weren’t wearing his leather jacket now as the beads of sweat run down your forehead.

He must’ve heard something in advance because right at that moment a group of people walk by the sidewalk, chatting and laughing. All they have to do is to glance to the side and spot you two in that interesting situation. The danger, the fact that you’re so exposed while Bucky dicks you down against the wall out in the open triggers your orgasm and you let out a strangled sound, muffed by his hand, as the shocks of pleasure washes over your body and weakens your limbs.  

“Shit,” Bucky whispers against your cheeks and his cock pulses inside you, reacting to your cunt squeezing and soaking his cock as you reach your climax.

You wanna feel that again and acting under the influence of a rush of boldness, you reach behind between the two of you and gently massages his bouncing balls. You feel the pulsating of his cock between your walls again and that cheeky move of yours makes him come undone. You only wish that the group is far enough to not hear the reckless and loud moan that slips out of his lips against your ear, his whole body tensing against yours.

As you fight to catch your breath and his hand leaves your mouth to descend to one of your breasts, a long line of courses is recited in your ear before you can feel his body finally relaxing.

Your eyes flutter shut when you sense the brush of his lips on your neck. The next words he breathes against your heated skin makes you beam, loving that he says that while his cock is still buried deep into you, like a damn reward.  

“Congratulations on your promotion, sweetheart.”

~~~

Tag List for this story: CLOSED

Permanent Tag List: OPENED.

[marvelsimp]

THE NEW KID: Landing

THE NEW KID MASTERLIST Ch. 3

Genre: Fluff Pairing: Peter x Lesbian!reader (Platonic duh), Avengers & Reader Warnings: swearing, Description: Reader has just joined the Avengers so they decide to throw her a birthday party. Reader’s Powers: Healing, telepathy, and empath. Word Count: 2,737

“Peter! You got me into the avengers!” you scream whacking your best friend with a pillow.

“You’re welcome!” he laughs shielding his face from oncoming attacks.  You end up tackling him causing him to land on his bed. “Why are you attacking me? This is so RUDE!”

“HAHA! Too bad.”

“STOP. STOP” he laughs causing you to stop almost instantly. He sits up and looks at the clock, it reads ‘3:57’.  “How about we go back down to the game floor we can play some more laser tag or mess around with the VR stuff?”

“Sure but didn’t you say earlier that you wanted to show me the lab?”

“I forgot about that!” he stood up and reached his hand out to help you get up, you accept.  Peter leads you out of his room at Avenger’s Tower to go to the elevator then up to the lab.  “So, this is it!” he says taking you up some stairs.

The space is huge, where you just entered from is where the Quinjet lands, where the med lab is, and where the avengers keep their gear for missions.  As you walk up the stairs you see several platforms and ‘bridges.’  To your right you see a platform full of tools and stations cluttered with different projects.

“Most of its taken up by Mr. Stark,” Peter explains, “He’s constantly working on upgrading and improving all of our suits.”  He leads you towards the back of the area, “This is where I usually work.  I’m usually the one to work on my suit, especially during breaks. I’m trying to figure out a way to improve the capacity of my web-shooters.”

You nod, Pete lets you look at his formulas and blueprints. You give him a handful of suggestions and ask him a few questions. He listens intently to each suggestion and question.  He then has a quick ‘aha’ moment and writes a few things down for later.  You can’t believe that you now get to help him with this stuff in person.

“Oh,” he says suddenly. He points to an empty part of the lab next to him. “This is your station, you can put anything there and use any of the tools, under supervision.  Mr. Stark isn’t a big fan of us being up here without him or Dr. Banner but he made an exception for today.”

“Wait… slow down.”

Peter looks up at you, he’s slightly confused.

“I get to work up here, in the Avenger’s lab?”

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “What did you not understand about the part that you’re an Avenger now?”

“I don’t know… I guess that it just didn’t click.” You look around the space trying to figure out what you’ll do.  You then remember some of the old projects that you had to scrap because you didn’t the resources, you’ll probably have to start from scratch… wait your stuff is here. You let out a gasp and your eyes get a little wider. You almost run out to get your old blueprints but Peter grabs your wrists.

“Y/n, slow down.  Where are you going?”

“Sorry, I got ahead of myself.  I just remembered that I have my old blueprints still and that I can work on that stuff here.”

He smiles at you, he’s happy you can feel it off of him.  That was the first time since you got to New York that you had felt pure joy and he could feel it, too. His smile shrinks a little, “Like I said Mr. Stark doesn’t really like us up here without someone with us.” You nodded in understanding.

“Now let me actually take you to the med lab, I think that Dr. Cho will want to meet you.” He took you back down the stairs and opened the doors to the Med Lab.  Dr. Cho was sitting down busy at work looking through some papers and looking at something on the screen in front of her. “Dr. Cho.”

She looked up from her work and looked at Peter then at you.  Her eyes grew wide, “Oh, I completely forgot.” She stood up walking over to you and reaching her hand out.   You accepted it shaking her hand, “I’m Y/n.”

“Yes,” she smiled, “Stark told me about you and your powers. I’d love to do some testing later once you’re settled.”

“I’d love that too.  I’ve done a little bit of testing on my own, but I’d love to learn my limits.”

She nodded, she seemed excited. “I have to get back to my work now, but I will see you later.”

You and Peter exited the lab then went back down to the game floor as you had planned earlier.  You both walked down the hallway and entered the game room.  In one of the corners was Steve and Bucky, Bucky was hunched over on an old arcade version of Mortal Combat while Steve had his hand on the brunette’s back and he was laughing his ass off at the stern face of the “tinman.”  Steve almost instantly turned around when you and peter entered but he couldn’t stop his laughing quite as quickly.

You smiled and waved at them.  You turned to Peter, “What do you wanna play?”

“Smash Bros?”

“Minecraft?”

‘You always want to play Minecraft,” he whined.

‘And you always want to play Smash Bros!”

He gave you the best puppy dog eyes he could.

“Fine!” you laughed

“Yes!” Peter quickly set up the game.

“FINISH HIM” you could hear from the old Mortal Combat Bucky was playing.

You took that as your cue, “Do you guys want to join us?”

Steve looked a little surprised, he turned to Bucky waiting for his answer. “Sure, how do you play?” he and Steve walked over and joined you and Peter on the large couch.

“It’s kind of like Mortal Combat.” You went on to explain the game and gave recommendations as to who they should pick.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed after losing to the two super-soldiers who had never even played the game before today.

“Language,” Steve said nonchalantly.

“Sorry” you squeaked out.

Steve’s eyes widened realizing his mistake, he said it out of habit assuming it was Bucky who said it.  Bucky let out an earth-shattering laugh. While you were mortified that you had screamed ‘fuck’ in front of some of the Avengers not once but twice in one day. Once Bucky stopped laughing and caught his breath he turned to Peter, “Do you curse this much? I swear I’ve never even heard you say ‘crap.’”  He did, just not in front of the avengers.  Peter’s whole face had turned red causing Bucky to laugh again.

“Sorry, Y/n,” Steve said over Bucky’s continual laughing.

“What are you saying sorry for?”

“I thought it was Buck who said it so out of habit I said ‘language.’”

You smiled, “You don’t mind me-“

“Of course not.” Steve looked at his watch and then turned to Bucky who had finally stopped laughing, “Buck, maybe it’s time we head up.”

“It was nice playing with you guys,” you smiled.

“Yeah, we’ll have to do it again,” said Bucky.

“You’re an Avenger now, doll. Plenty of game nights.” Steve smiled walking out the door.

“Bye.”

Peter stood up. “Do yooou wanna play in VR?”

“Yes!”

“I know we’ve only been on this for half an hour but do you wanna grab some food?” Peter asked you.

“Umm, sure I could use some food.”

You and Peter walked back to the elevator taking it back up to the communal living space. As the elevator rose you felt the excitement rise not only in Peter but in some people on the floor you were headed to. When the doors opened it was darker than last time then you heard “SURPRISE” being shouted at you from all over the room and the lights turned back on. You jumped back a little then erupted into giggles. Directly in front of you were Ned, MJ, and May.  While the Avengers were spread around the room, which included some of those that weren’t at lunch.  There was a large banner on the wall that read “Happy 17th Birthday, Y/n!” There were streamers and balloons everywhere, along with some confetti that was spread along the ground. “Happy Birthday!” Ned, MJ, and May said in unison all grouping together for a group hug that caused you to giggle once more.

“Thank you.”

Peter grabbed your hand and led you over to a group of people near the dining table.  There was Pepper Potts with a little girl holding onto her hand, with a man, woman, and a teen girl that was maybe a year or two younger than you and Peter.  Pepper was the first to notice the two of you so she turned and smiled at you grabbing the others' attention.

“Hi,” you said looking back over the group.

“I’m Hope,” said the brunette woman reaching her hand out.

You recognized her but couldn’t remember how and as you shook her hand you let out a slight gasp, “Pym?”

“Yes,” she breathed out.

“Sorry, I’m way too invested into sciency things.”

The man next to her let out a chuckle, “I’m Scott.” He gently put his hand onto the teen next to him, “and this is my daughter Cassie.”

She smiled at you, “Hi.”

“Hi.” You were kinda confused as to who these people were, relating to the Avengers.

Peter whispered in your ear, “Think about it,” it was like he was the telepath.

After a second or two of staring at them, you let out, “Oh! You’re Wasp and Ant-man.” Neither one of them were known to the public as that but they were the only masculine and feminine pair, so it made sense. Hope let out a, “Yeah” while Scott just grinned impressed.  You finally turned to the woman you were very excited to meet, the CEO of Stark Industries.

“I’m Pepper,” she went for a hug that you accepted. Once you were released from the hug she put her hand on the shoulder of the little girl hiding behind her. “This is Morgan, Tony and I’s daughter.”

You kneeled to be at the girl’s eye level, “Hi, I’m Y/n.”

“Hi,” she said in the quietest voice possible.

You just smiled and stood back up. “It’s an honor to meet you all,” you said turning to each one in the small group, “I can’t believe that I’m even here.”

“Don’t worry,” Scott said, “We’re still getting used to it.” Hope nodded in agreement.

Thank god, that eased your anxieties a little. “Come on, Y/n. There are still more people you gotta meet.” He led you across the room where Tony and Colonel Rhodes, aka War Machine, were talking, Col. Rhodes seemed annoyed.  As you walked you passed Bruce, Sam, Bucky, and Steve who waved as you walked by.  Bruce stepped forward, “Hey, Y/n!”

You stopped and turned to him.

“Thor wanted to tell you sorry that he couldn’t make it, ya know family business. And he wanted me to tell you ‘Happy Birthday’ from him and Loki.” You smiled and laughed at the “and Loki” part. “Tell them ‘Thank you and that I understand. Oh, and that I wish him luck with his brother’”. Bruce chuckled at your response. He turned and returned to his group while you continued to follow Peter.

“Come on, Tony, another teenager,” you could barely hear Col. Rhodes say.

Tony just saw you two walking towards them, he pointed his head at you which caused Col. Rhodes’ demeanor to change almost instantly.

“Hey,” Tony said smirking at you and Peter, “How you feeling?”

“Uhh, I’m still in stock,” you laugh rubbing your neck.

“Don’t worry, kid, that will wear off.”

“I’m Rhodey by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“I won’t be able to stay for long I was told about this morning. I wasn’t even told there was a possibility of a new Avenger until then either,” he looked annoyingly at Tony.

“Oh, I... don’t worry it’s an honor just meeting you guys.”

“Y/n,” yelled Wanda who was over in the kitchen.

“Well, that’s me,” you commented pointing your thumb towards the kitchen.

“Happy Birthday.”

“Yeah, Happy Birthday, kid.”

You and Peter headed to the kitchen.

“That was kinda tense,” whispered Peter in your ear.

You nod in agreement as you enter.  Wanda is standing next to the counter eating some chips with Nat and a man you recognize as Hawkeye.  But more importantly, you spot some brownies.  You quickly grab one, “Hey.” Wanda smiles and hugs you before you sit on one of the stools.

“Hey, Y/n/n, adjusted yet?” Nat joked.

“Nowhere close,” you breathe out.

Nat elbowed the man standing next to her. “I’m Clint.” He put a fist over the chip bowl.

You let out a chuckle and returned the fist bump.  “You’re Hawkeye, right?”

“Yeah,” he laughs at the codename.

You continue to eat the brownie and happily smile at your best friend.  He takes a seat next to you and spins your chair as you take the last bite of it. When you look up, there she is Captain Marvel with a gift bag in her hand.  You choke on the brownie spitting it out in your hand then throwing it away. Peter looks up in concern at you, you simply point at her and he erupts in laughter.  Nat, Clint, and Wanda were first concerned when you choked on your food but are now very confused.  You turn around away from the center of the room, putting your face in your hands.

“Y/n, you okay?” Wanda asks.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out.

Clint throws a chip at Peter, “Bug, explain.”

Peter calms down.  “Y/n has a hu-“ he corrects himself, “is a huge fan of Carol.”

Nat catches on instantly, the other two don’t but are accepting of the answer.

“Peter!” you say shoving him almost causing him to fall from his chair, but he holds on to the seat. “You’re a fucking psychopath,” you whisper angrily in his ear, “Are you trying to kill me?” He laughs looking behind you, so you turn around and to your surprise, Captain Marvel is right behind you.  You open your mouth opens but nothing comes out.

Y/n.exe has stopped working.

Reboot?

Rebooting.

Peter gives you a little shaking you a little. “Earth to Y/n,” he whispers in your ear.  Everyone, EVERYONE takes note of this. Some understanding your behavior instantly while others put it down as you just being a “big fan.”

“Hi,” you blush.

“Hi,” Captain Marvel smiles at you.

“I, um, I’m a, I’m Y/n,” you finally stutter out.

“I’m Carol,” she smirks.  You put your hand out for her to shake but instead of returning the handshake, she puts the gift bag she was holding into your hand.  “Peter told me you were a big fan, so I got you something.”

You smile and hit Peter for telling her. “Thank you,” you barely get out as she walks away.

“Hey!” you hear from across the room. “Since everyone’s met Y/n let’s sing happy birthday!” you finally recognize the voice to be Tony’s, “Head to the Dining table!”

You’re still standing there stunned, “Did that just happen?”

“Yes,” Peter says grabbing your arm, “Now let’s get some cake.”

Peter leads you to the Dining Table and then to a cupcake tower full of different types of cupcakes with a lit candle on top reading ‘17’. You take a deep breath to collect yourself.  You look around you and you’re overwhelmed with how much you can feel all of them caring for you even though you just met most of them today.  You wish your parents could see this… no you wish that your parents loved you enough where you wouldn’t even be in New York right now, but they don’t, and you have to live with that.  “Thank you, for all of this,” you say looking mostly at Peter but also at the others.  “Usually, I would spend my birthday with just my parents and this year I thought it would be Peter, May, MJ, Ned, and I.  But I never could’ve predicted to be with any of you much less as your new teammate.  I don’t know what else to do besides saying thank you.”

Next Chapter

Arrived

[stovetuna]

Please tell me about how much a “simp”, as the kids say these days, Steve is for Tony. Like full heart eyes melty the man is.

(Also please imagine Steve calling himself a simp and Tony is like what is that? For once the shoe is on the other foot!!!((also also please never say that again Steve- love Tony)))

ANON OH MY GOD I had to respond to this IMMEDIATELY 

where do I even begin, like?? just imagine steve walking into the Avengers’ common room from the kitchen and there’s Peter Parker, still in his suit, mask off, like he dropped in after rescuing a little girl’s stolen tricycle and forgot to change fully into his civvies, because he’s too busy hanging out with MJ and they’re just laughing their asses off. 

steve coming over to the couch where they’re sitting and seeing them bent over a single phone, watching a video of a disembodied hand making a weird ~*gesture*~ before going into a series of photos of various Avengers. by their cackling, they seem to be enjoying it, but steve feels like he’s missing the point of whatever it is. Peter notices him first—and smiles all big and happy while instantly thrusting the phone under his thigh while MJ just covers her mouth with her hand and snortlaughs. 

and like, of course they’re going to give in when steve asks what they’re watching/laughing at, because it’s somehow team-related and shouldn’t steve know about it, even if it’s just for fun? he should know what the people think of the team, for better or worse. so they show steve the video—a “TikTok,” they call it—and as the hand does its little twisting flourish the text on the screen reads “the big six avengers and who I think they simp for” followed by a breakneck slideshow of deeply unflattering photos of different Avengers pairings, usually taken mid-battle or they’re screenshots off of social media Tony or Clint posted at some point. Hulk letting Nat do pullups on his arm, clint on Thor’s back, flying across the sky shooting arrows, and then 

Peter and MJ dissolve into hysterics again when the picture changes to one of steve rogers in full Captain America regalia staring directly at Tony Stark’s ass. 

and then steve is just LOSING IT thinking “where did they get that picture” and “when was that even taken” and “I don’t remember doing that” but all that comes out of his mouth is a bewildered “what does ‘simp’ even mean??” 

and the kids try to explain it to him through their wheezing and all steve gathers is it basically means someone who does nice things for the person they like but aren’t dating? to an embarrassing amount? which to steve just sounds like having a crush, which....okay, they’re not wrong there. 

and then the video starts over right at the same moment when Tony walks into the room, disheveled and sleep-mussed like he just came out of a workshop binge and steve thinks oh he’s so beautiful like that meanwhile tony comes up next to him and watches the video and laughs at the photos, the music, the execution, the whole concept. he says “nice production value” and walks into the kitchen to make more coffee only to discover steve’s already made him a fresh pot

cue my favorite trope of kitchen confessions and a countertop makeout session but then steve tries it like “I simp you, tony” and tony just shoves his whole face away in disgust while laughing his ass off because oh my god steve you absolute goober that’s not how you use it in a sentence—

[until-theend-oftheline]

Finding Neverland - Part 1: Man Out of Time

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Warnings: PTSD, Survivor’s guilt. 

Squares Filled: “Don’t do anything stupid until I get back” for @star-spangled-bingo​ and survivor’s guilt for @badthingshappenbingo​

Word Count: 1200ish

A/N: First part of my new Bucky series! I am super excited about this one and I hope you guys will like it too. There is no reader in this part - she is coming but the first few parts will set up Bucky and the journey he is on before he meets her. 

Betaed by: @blacktithe7​ - thank you love

Masterlist

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

Bucky walked into his room. A room that despite him having stayed there for the past year still didn’t feel like his own. It wasn’t just the room though, it was everything. Ever since the war, and maybe to a degree even before the war, Bucky had felt out of place. He didn’t belong in this place or maybe even in this time. He shouldn’t even be alive. 

The Supreme Court had exonerated Bucky of any guilt of the things HYDRA had made him do. That didn’t mean Bucky had forgiven himself though. He hadn’t, which was why he had agreed to move into the Tower when Sam had asked him for help running the new Avengers team. Bucky had red in his ledger, as Nat would have said, and maybe helping Sam would clear some of that out. 

It didn’t feel like it had though. All Bucky did was more fighting and more killing. Bad guys this time around, and the killing was only when they gave him absolutely no other choice. Still, he was doing all the things he had promised himself, while he lived in Wakanda that he was through with. Bucky lived in the building that had once been owned by a man that had tried to kill him. With good right. Bucky had taken everything from Tony Stark and had never had the chance to even try to apologize. Not that an apology would mean anything to a kid whose parents he had brutally murdered. 

“It wasn’t really you, Buck.” 

Steve’s words rang in his head, and even though Bucky knew Steve was right, he didn’t feel it. He doubted that he ever really would. He remembered every waking moment. He remembered the torture, the experiments and the brainwashing. Worse than that, he remembered them. Innocent eyes shining with fear before his hands robbed them of their lives. He remembered the pull of a trigger and blood spatter on walls, windows and cars. He remembered it all, and it was hard not to blame himself for what had been done by his own hands even if he wasn’t in control. 

The guilt wasn’t enough to keep him here anymore though. Steve had gotten to live the life that had been stolen from him, and Sam had taken over the mantle of Captain America. He was great at it, even if Bucky would never say that to his face. Sam didn’t need Bucky, at least not anymore. Steve seemed as if he had found peace. Even with Peggy having passed, he was still surrounded by kids, grandkids and friends. Bucky didn’t need to worry about either of them. So he decided to take his therapists advice and worry about himself for a little bit. 

Bucky threw his bag on the bed next to his helmet and looked around the room. Even if it never felt like home, it still felt strange to walk away. For the first time in his life, he was well and truly going to be on his own. With no one to help or look after. No one but himself. The thought of that terrified him, but he knew he had to do this. 

Bucky closed his eyes, taking a deep breath just as a knock on the door sounded, and the door opened behind him. 

“What? You thought you could sneak off without saying goodbye?” Sam’s teasing voice sounded behind him. 

“Sam...” Steve scolded. The one word speaking a million just as always.

Bucky smiled turning around to face his two friends. “And risk having a stupid drone bird following me until I get back?”

“Hey. Redwing is not stupid,” Sam pointed a finger at Bucky, before smirking. “And I distinctly remember him saving your ass a few times.”

“You are coming back?” Steve interrupted, drawing Bucky’s attention to him. Steve looked so much older than him now, but Bucky still saw the same kid he had grown up with over a century ago. He always had. No matter what changes Steve had gone through, Bucky still saw him for who he had always been. 

“Off course I am pal. You did right?” Bucky smiled, reminding Steve of the conversation they had shared just over a year ago. For Bucky at least for Steve it was half a lifetime ago. 

“Bucky…” Steve started, but Bucky just shook his head to stop him. 

“You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be fine. You should worry about this one instead,” Bucky gave Sam’s shoulder a friendly squeeze. “I don’t know what he’ll do without me out there.”

“I’ll do just fine, thank you very much Tinman,” Sam huffed, before reaching out to pull Bucky into a bone crushing hug. “Don’t be a stranger. I don’t wanna have to track you down again because Steve worries.”

Bucky laughed, hugging Sam back. 

“I won’t. Be careful out there okay?” Bucky said, pulling back, looking a little more serious before turning to Steve. 

The worried frown on Steve’s face made Bucky want to laugh. He couldn’t remember how many times he had given Steve that exact look, knowing that no matter what he would say, nothing could change the stubborn punk’s mind anyway. 

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back,” Bucky mirrored the words he had said to Steve before going off to war; the same words Steve had said to him before returning to his past with Peggy. 

That line, drew a small smile to Steve’s face even if it was battling worry lines deeper than ever now. 

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you,” Steve answered just like expected, and Bucky grinned before leaning in to hug Steve goodbye. 

“Nonsense. I’m leaving him right here with you,” Bucky grinned, looking over Steve’s shoulder at Sam. 

“I’m really not gonna miss you,” Sam huffed in pretend annoyance, but Bucky knew his words meant the exact opposite. Even if his relationship with Sam was more than a little odd, Bucky still counted him as one of his best friends. One of two actually. 

Saying goodbye to them hadn’t been easy, but Bucky had done it. He felt as if he was closing a chapter of his life as he walked out of the Avengers’ Tower. He closed the strap to his backpack across his chest, put his helmet on and mounted his bike. He started the engine, giving the Tower one last look, before raving up the bike and taking off. Destination unknown, even to himself, and Bucky kinda liked the feeling of freedom. Something he had never truly felt in his life before, at least not since he was a kid riding a truck back home after spending all his money with Steve on Coney Island. 

Reblogs spread my work and make me happy. Got a favorite part/line? Did something touch you? Do you relate in some way? Please tell me and make my day. 

Bucky Barnes Tag Team

@feelmyroarrrr​ @littlebittcrazy​ @sleepretreat​ @roxyspearing​ @jewels2876​ @hellaqueerangelofthelord @blacktithe7​ @danijimenezv​ @rumoured-whispers​ @becs-bunker​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @avengerscompound​ @grace-for-sale​ @scarletlingeries @averyrogers83​ @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​ @sorenmarie87​ @docharleythegeekqueen​ @erosbellarke  @the-wayward-robot​ @super100012​  @lucifersbird​ @achishisha @awkwardfangirl2014​ @igotkatiepowers​ @dottirose​ @panicatttckiss @kimmiestrawberrykiwi​ @sdciopo @deathofmissjackson​ @cosicas-cuquis @stormi-ames​ @anxiousamandapanda​ @miraclesoflove​ @jamesbarnesappreciationclub​ @rinthehufflepuff​ @hailmary-yramliah​ @pinknerdpanda​ @percywinchester27​ @mysupernaturalfics​

[itskateak]

Mint Ice Cream & Bubblegum Kisses - Chapter Six

(Bucky Barnes x Single Dad!Reader)

Chapter Summary: Bucky offers to help Y/N take Peter Parker and Angelica out for the day since they've been causing chaos and getting into trouble. The hiking trail behind the compound seems like the perfect place.

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: Some Language (Sam and Bucky were military men shh), Sam Wilson being a great friend and actual character instead of a 2D support, Anxiety attack, Mentions of time-correct homophobia, Fluff, Sam and Bucky being Bros, Sam Wilson being an Ally

A/N: For those who don't know, my best friend is in the hospital and I had to take a break from being online and writing for a bit. He's doing great right now and is getting much better :) - also, I know I have a thing for Bucky and that log crossing a river. Okay just let it happen. It's cute. 

And as a final side note, I really hope I’m putting more character into Sam Wilson. I wanted to expand on Bucky and Sam’s friendship more in this chapter and to build Sam as an actual character. I’ve read countless stories where he’s just a prop to get Bucky and the reader together or to just be Best Friend to Bucky and go along with anything. Sam Wilson is his own person and I really, really hope that he’s got some life in him in this one. Feedback on that would be nice if anyone wants to give it :)

Taglist is open! PM me, send an ask, or @ me on a chapter to let me know you’d like to be tagged! Strikethrough means I couldn’t tag you, but I will send you a message with a link to the new chapter when I update. :)

Masterlist

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ 

Y/N checked his messages quickly, head tilted as he waited for it to update. Over weekends, he decided to work three hours each day to make sure nothing important and time-sensitive came in. He was close to the end of those three hours, which wasn't eventful at any point. Just low-level information relating to other movements that he'd already taken note of earlier that week.

He watched the few messages come in and glanced over them. Nothing seemed to be important other than Gamora saying that they would be stopping by to drop off Peter Quill for a recovery period. Something about an injury he gained through his own stupidity. He responded with a confirmation and said that Monday afternoon would be best since the landing strip would be clear.

"Do you have a minute?" Bucky called from the doorway. He smiled, but it looked a little forced. His posture was closed off and he looked physically tense.

"Always. What's up?" Y/N pushed away from his desk and closed the programs on his screen since he didn't need them anymore.

"Uh...I'm kind of...having an anxiety attack or something." Bucky said though it sounded more like he was questioning himself. He ducked his head sheepishly for a moment. "And Steve and Sam are not here and I dunno what to do."

"Oh. Okay." Y/N was taken by surprise for a moment. "Uh, come on in. Let's see if we can calm you down."

Bucky nodded and sat rigidly on the edge of the couch, his arms wrapping around his stomach. His fingers bunched up the fabric of his shirt and he gasped suddenly. He cracked a slight smile and snorted. "Didn't realize I was holding my breath."

"Breathing's important, Bucky. Do you know what set this off?" Y/N asked, pulling his chair up to the side of his desk and giving his full attention to Bucky.

"Loud noise. Not even sure what it was. It took me off-guard and...then I fell off the obstacle course." Bucky grimaced and took a deep breath, his eyes closing for a moment. "I...have a fear of fallin'. Ever since I fell off the train."

"Is it the height or the feeling of falling itself?" 

"The feel. I hate it." Bucky wrinkled his nose up in disgust. "I can still remember the feeling of my stomach in my throat."

"Hey, don't think about that. No need to get yourself even more worked up." Y/N paused, trying to find a random question to distract him with for a little bit. Maybe taking his mind off the things causing him anxiety would help calm him down. "Tell me about something Steve did in school. Did he ever get into big trouble?"

"Oh, yeah. This one time - it was like sixth grade, I think - he nearly got us suspended for a week. Johnny Sarsburg, a boy in our class who picked on Stevie for being short, was this tall and burly kid. Real jerk of a guy." Bucky moved his arms and laced his hands together. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. "One day, Steve got fed up with all the nicknames. Shorty Stevie, Munchkin Man...they went on and on. So, Stevie stood up to him. Thank God I was there, though."

"Don't tell me he tried to kick this kid's ass." 

"He tried to kick the kid's ass." Bucky nodded with a tone full of disappointed frustration.

"Oh, no." Y/N snickered behind his hand. 

"So, it was recess and Johnny came up to us. Stevie tried to hide behind me for a second, but I shoved him away. Johnny started picking at him and picking at him. Steve straightened up and clenched his fists, looked Johnny in the eye, and said: I may be short, but I'll always be a bigger man than you." Bucky laughed, breaking out into a smile for the first time. He ran a hand through his hair. 

"He didn't!" Y/N could see Steve Rogers, the man who had no regard for his own personal safety and hated bullies, doing something so ridiculous but just so...Steve.

"He did! Johnny didn't like that so much, so he cocked back his fist and came at Steve. Stevie tried to fight back, but he really wasn't a fighter back then. Just looking at a running track could make him break into an asthma attack and thinking about lifting a book could've snapped his spine."

Y/N snickered, shaking his head. Bucky was looking far more relaxed than he did when he came in. His shoulders weren't rigid and he wasn't gasping for breath. Though, it looked like his hands were slightly trembling still. "So, how'd it turn out?"

"At some point, I grabbed Steve around the waist and tried to haul him away. But Johnny didn't like that either, so he went after me. Now, I was a bit of a troublemaker so I knew how to fight. I wasn't lookin' to get into trouble, but Stevie had dragged me into a mess. Had to clean it up, like I do now." Bucky winked and chuckled. "The teachers had to come break it up and we had to explain what happened. Johnny was suspended for a week and our parents said they'd punish us at home, so we got off easy." 

"Even at home?"

"Oh, no. My dad was pissed and Stevie's mother almost hung him out with the laundry. But at least we weren't suspended like Johnny was." He leaned back against the couch and sighed. "Did you just distract me?"

"Maaaaybe. How're you feeling?" Y/N laughed and checked the clock. His time was up which meant the rest of the day was his to do whatever he wanted.

"Better. Not like I'm choking on my own air, at least. I'm still wired, though." Bucky held his right hand up to show how it was still shaking a bit.

"Wanda told me about a hiking trail behind the compound. We could go check that out and get Peter and Angelica outside for a bit. If you're up for that, of course." Y/N offered. He secretly hoped Bucky would take him up on the offer. He wanted the chance to talk to him more when they were both completely sober.

"That sounds...great, actually. Besides, I don't think you could wrangle both of them on your own." He said with a teasing lilt and stood. "I'll find Peter and meet you downstairs."

"I need to shut my computers down first." Y/N pushed his chair back and moved his mouse to wake his monitors. "If you find my kid before I do, send her my way."

"Roger that."

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Peter was walking a few feet ahead with Angelica on his back, bouncing her every so often to make her squeal and laugh. There was a light breeze rustling through the branches of the trees, which were providing the right amount of shade from the late autumn sun. The weather was that perfect balance of warm and cool. Just right for a light jacket. The trail wasn't well used, evidence provided by the undergrowth creeping along the edges of the path, threatening to overtake it. 

Y/N and Bucky were casually talking as they followed the kids. The conversation flowed easily between them like they'd been friends for years. 

"So, she's how old, again?" Bucky asked, hitching his chin toward Angelica.

"Eight. Nine next Wednesday." Y/N smiled wistfully, watching his daughter shoot a bright smile at him over her shoulder. He'd been so afraid that this move would've negatively affected her and caused her to be miserable. But she had never looked happier or carefree. She'd always been a solemn little girl with many worries on her shoulders.

"She's growin' fast, huh?" Bucky smiled, too, shaking his head as another loud squeal floated back to them.

"Too fast. She's always gonna be my little girl, though." Y/N glanced up as a couple of birds flitted from one tree to the next. "I'm glad she's happy here and finding her place. She doesn't say it, but I know she feels like an outsider sometimes."

"Why's that?" Bucky asked, sinking his hands into his pockets.

"I know she feels out of place among friends a lot. The fact her mother isn't around and she doesn't have a second parent...some kids can be really mean about that." He sighed. "And it's not like that's her fault. But she feels that way and I don't know how to help her."

"Why would she think it's her fault?" Bucky stepped closer as if he knew the topic needed to be kept quieter to not disturb the girl a few feet ahead.

"I don't know where she got the idea, honestly. Her mother did leave a note when she left and part of the reason she left...well, Angelica wasn't exactly planned." Y/N muttered the last part to make sure it didn't reach his kid. He loved her, he really did. At first, he'd been terrified at the prospect of being a father when he wasn't ready. But the moment he held that little girl in his arms, he was smitten. "And her mother said some...nasty things in the letter about her."

"I can't imagine how that would've been for you." Bucky gave a sympathetic grimace. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

"No, it's okay. I don't talk about it much because it's in the past and we're doing great without that woman." He shrugged and smiled. "I kept the letter, though, as precautionary measures in case she ever decides to come back and fight for custody. I doubt that would happen, really, but the court system is so messed up and might not rule in favor of me despite the fact I've raised her."

"If a court of law can see how much you love that kid and how much she loves you and is happy with you and still not let her stay with you, then I might have to return to my vigilante days." Bucky joked, though he sounded and looked serious.

"Bucky, no."

"I'd do it."

"I know, but no." Y/N laughed and shook his head. "Thanks for the offer, but I think an appeal would work better."

"Okay, you have a point," Bucky said. "So, I've never asked but what got you on the team? Steve didn't tell me and Stark won't because he's still mad about game night five months ago."

"I caught four embezzlers in the compound by hacking into the hidden servers that keep backups of pretty much everything, even if it's been wiped from the main servers. I would've gotten away with it if I hadn't tripped the single silent alarm monitored by FRIDAY. Tony promoted me shortly after I handed the information over to Grace Stevens in accounting." Y/N explained with a smile. "I thought I was fired or being thrown in jail. Those were the most terrifying few minutes of my life."

Bucky whistled. "That's impressive. Even Nat couldn't get through Stark's security lines to retrieve deleted footage of him drunkenly singing karaoke in his lab."

"I might have to go digging for that to earn a favor from Nat." Y/N took his phone out and made a reminder, causing Bucky to start laughing. His eyes crinkled up at the corners with his bright smile. "Oh, Pete, be careful! That might be slippery!"

Peter was halfway across the large fallen tree trunk over the moderately moving river. He turned his head to listen to Y/N and nodded, shifting his grip on Angelica. He moved slower then, watching his footing to make sure they didn't fall.

"So, we're gonna cross that?" Bucky asked, eyeing the log warily. Falling. He hates falling. That's right, Y/N thought. Of course, he'd be uncomfortable with something like this because he might fall.

"I guess. Wanda said there's lakeside access across the river and down the path." Y/N stopped at the tree, watching to make sure the kids made it across safely. He trusted Peter, considering the kid was a literal superhero and gymnast, but he was also a dad and his Dad Instincts were kicking in. "You gonna be okay with crossing?"

"If I don't fall, I will," Bucky forced a smile, but Y/N could see the anxiety behind it. 

"Here, take my hand. We'll cross together and we'll go slow. I'll make sure you won't fall." Y/N held his hand out to Bucky and tried his best to ignore the small jolt of electricity that shot through his veins when Bucky accepted it. "Come on."

"If I fall, I'm dragging you with me," Bucky said with a joking tone, but there was a shake to his voice as he stepped onto the log after the man holding his hand.

"Valid." Y/N snorted before focusing on where he was putting his feet. He couldn't slip and risk giving Bucky a heart attack. He was trusting him to get him across this river safely. "If you need to stop at any point, just tell me and we can."

"Nope. Just keep moving even if I start to freeze up because if I stop, I won't move again." Bucky was able to flash a quick lopsided smile even though he was doing something that ultimately terrified him. 

"You got this, Bucky!" Angelica shouted from the other side, bouncing on her feet like a highly-caffeinated bouncy ball. "You're almost there!"

Y/N grinned to himself. Leave it to his kid to become a cheerleader for them without even knowing that Bucky really needed that encouragement. He swore his daughter had supernatural abilities of knowing what someone needed when they needed it. When she was much younger, there had been nights where he was stressed about making ends meet and she would crawl into his lap and hug him tightly until he forgot what was bothering him.

Lost in thought for just the brief moment spelled ruin for him. His foot slipped on a wet spot and he lost his balance.

Bucky grabbed his arm and pulled him back, keeping him steady until he regained his footing. He chuckled. "Jeez, Y/N. I thought you'd be saving me from falling and not the other way around."

"You're lucky I'm nice 'cause I would've just shoved you off this log and let you wash down the river." Y/N retorted though he couldn't keep his expression stern and a smile broke out. "So, that spot's slippery. Be careful."

"Oh, I was just planning to plant my foot on it and run the rest of the way." Bucky teased, appearing way more at ease than Y/N expected he would. Maybe that's what happens when someone has to save their non-fearful friend from falling.

Once they were on the other side and on solid ground, there was a pause of silence between everyone before they all burst into laughter.

"Mr. Barnes, your face when Mr. L/N slipped! You were so surprised!" Peter bent over, trying to catch his breath. 

"Y/N, I thought you were a goner for a moment. And if I hadn't already had a hand on you, I probably would've just let you fall." Bucky was barely able to speak through his laughter, smile so wide his eyes were crinkled up. 

"Oh, I see how it is!" Y/N acted offended. "See if I ever team with you on game nights again."

"Ooh, he's serious." Angelica giggled, wiping tears from her eyes. 

"I'm sorry, Y/N but I was not risking falling just to save you if I hadn't already had your hand." Bucky took deep breaths, also wiping his face with his jacket sleeve. 

"What happened to till the end of the line?" Peter asked, taking deep breaths. 

"That's a me and Steve thing. And even then, I'd just let his dumbass fall." Bucky winced. "Sorry, language."

Angelica grinned broadly with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Oh, don't worry. Papa swears a lot more than you might think. He thinks I don't hear  him mutter things under his breath, but I do."

"You little snitch!" Y/N exclaimed. "I can't believe you!"

"Oh no...Angelica, we gotta go!" Peter scooped Angelica up and dashed down the trail. Y/N started to give chase but slowed down as they turned the bend. 

Bucky followed at a slower pace, shaking his head in amusement. He caught up to the father who was straightening his jacket. "You're not going after them?"

"Nah. I just made them think there was an actual threat. They'll probably get all the way to the lake before they realize I'm not actually chasing them." Y/N grinned. "So, want to tell me about that game night five months ago?"

"It started when Nat brought vodka back from a mission in Russia and decided not to tell us it was hundred-proof..."

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"Hey, Buck. How's your day?" Sam asked as he entered the training room with a towel around his neck and a water bottle in hand. "Sorry that Steve and I dipped on you."

"Don't worry about it. It's alright," Bucky grunted before setting down the set of weights he'd been lifting. "My day was pretty good. Except when Stark accidentally set off an explosion in the lab while I was running the obstacle course. Scared the hell out of me and then I fell off."

"Shit, man. You okay?" Sam placed his water bottle and towel on a bench near Bucky. "I know you don't like falling and loud noises so that just seems brutal."

"My adrenaline kept it low but I still started to freak out after I cleaned up." He admitted before taking a drink of his own water and using his shirt to wipe some of the sweat from his forehead. "Y/N helped me out with that."

"You went to Y/N? Why not Bruce or Wanda? Hell, even Nat?" Sam arched his brow and there was a hint of something behind his eyes.

"Dunno. He's nice, ya know? I figured he'd have some experience with that kind of stuff. Having a kid would teach you how to calm someone down when they're freaking out and I've seen him chill Angelica out faster than she could even process why she was upset." Bucky said, sitting down on a bench to give himself a break. He'd been in the training room for an hour already and it was about time to take a breather. "After that, we took Angelica and Pete out on that hiking trail Wanda found just to get them outside since they were causing trouble and everyone needed a break."

"Hey, as long as you found a way to calm down and not have a panic attack, I won't knock it. Happy for you, man. You're doing really good recently." Sam started to set up the machine he liked to use. Can't have a tree without the trunk, you know what I'm saying? Sometimes Bucky really didn't like Sam, but he was a great friend and great company when he wasn't being an annoying shit. But then again, he could be an annoying shit when he wanted to be. "Proud of you, man. Long road, but you're sticking with us."

"Yeah, yeah. Save the sappy shit, would you?" Bucky leaned his head back against the wall, taking deep breaths. "The hike was nice. Though Y/N almost fell off the log when we were crossing the river. I caught him before he did, but if he hadn't been holding my hand, I would've let him fall."

"You told him about your issue with falling?" Sam straddled the bench and rested his forearms on his thighs. "Dude, it took you like eight months to tell me about that and he's been here four months."

"Don't take it personally, Wilson." Bucky shrugged with a smile. "He's just got that calming feel to him. He's easy to trust and he's just really nice."

"And you were tellin' me to quit with the sappy shit? Do you hear yourself?" Sam cracked a smile as well. "I like Y/N, too. He's a good fit for the team."

Bucky nodded, agreeing. There had been something missing in the team dynamic for a while that no one could quite name or place, but Y/N and his kid had certainly brought it. The game night had really shown some of Y/N's full personality away from his daughter, though Bucky liked having Angelica around a lot. She was bubbly and sweet and brought a little bit of light on his bad days.

But Y/N...Y/N was just so thoughtful and selfless. It was obvious when he'd walked into his office that Y/N had no idea how to help him and was taken aback, but he'd helped him anyway. He showed genuine interest in the story Bucky had been telling him and even invited him along to an outing. They hadn't exactly hung out outside of the team nights and work hours. It was nice and he liked the idea of getting to see Y/N more often out of that stuff.

"Wait, don't tell me...Barnes, do you have a crush on Y/N?" Sam asked with a cocky grin.

"What? No!" Bucky said far too quickly, his face starting to flush. He was lucky he was already a little red from training, but Sam knew otherwise. His grin widened.

"You totally do!"

Bucky went to defend himself again but he sighed and turned his head away while Sam started to snicker. "Fine. Maybe I do a little."

"Man, I didn't take you for one to like guys," Sam said.

"Is...that an issue?" Bucky asked warily, his heart starting to flutter in his chest. For most of his life, he'd shoved that part of him aside and hidden it. Sure, he fooled around with a couple of guys in the forties but it never went very far. And war made people do desperate things. But he was worried that even now, he'd have to keep that part of him tucked away and ignore it.

"Hell, no. My best friend in college was the most flamboyant gay guy I've ever met. Smart as a whip and a beautiful musician. I don't give a shit, but I don't wanna hear about all the details. And that goes for women, too. That stays private, man." Sam wrinkled his nose up and it made Bucky chuckle. "I don't know how it was back then, but people are a lot more accepting now than they were. They legalized same-sex marriage a few years back. And if anyone gives you shit about it, I'll kick their asses."

"Thanks, Sam. That means a lot." Bucky smiled. "But if you tell anyone that I have a thing for Y/N, I'll kick you off the helicarrier again."

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ 

Taglist: @shadowolf993​ @supernaturalwintersoldier​ @booty-ass-hoe​ @fightmemacbeth​ @pastel-boy-sungjae​ @unsure-username​ @myybebe​ (it works!! ^-^)

[missorgana]

can’t say anything to your face

pairing: bucky barnes/sam wilson

fandom: marvel cinematic universe

rating: teen and up

word count: 7779

warning: swearing, alcohol, brief mention of death

summary: Bucky loves Sam, and he tells him so, in his own way. (mostly canon compliant sambucky pining)

(my longest fic yet??? since TFATWS is still taking over my life, here’s some more sambucky fluff slash angst. they’re everything to me. this thing is a bit self-indulgent too, after the idea from this tweet! so all thanks to twitter user @/SAMBUCKY616 for this concept, even tho my danish is probably not the best interpretation jgdjd.... oh well! and thank you to Cat / @wendigostag as always, because you convinced me to write it and beta read and just..... ur perfect. mwah! hope you all enjoy this???)

read on ao3

A remnant that sticks with Bucky, still sticks with him after he’s rid of the Winter Soldier for good, is the language.

The only good thing, really. He could live without every one of the screams he hears in his dreams and lifeless bodies imprinted on his retinas, but that sticks on too, real tight. Being fluent in more languages than he imagined to be is bearable.

Not exactly bearable, though, not when many of them are tainted with those memories that he tries to distance himself to when he’s awake. He’s learning. It’s harder at night, when there’s darkness and stillness and no distractions from what creeps up on him every time.

French is hard. He knows every word to express the chaos in his head, but he can’t pronounce them. German, too. Russian, Spanish, Mandarin. He’s especially fond of Arabic, which is also particularly difficult for him to dig up from his brain, not because he doesn’t remember it, but because the screams in his head get too loud for him to think.

It’s a shame.

There’s one exception in his, quite frankly, extensively large vocabulary, and that’s Danish.

Bucky doesn’t know why this language in particular was something the Winter Soldier (he usually tries to think of him as a separate entity altogether, because, well, it hurts less) needed, given that, as far as his memory reaches, it was never used.

And this is why he finds himself drawn to it.

Of course, English is what he speaks on a day-to-day basis, and it feels… mostly normal. But somehow, Danish becomes a thing of comfort. Or safety, more likely.

He’s pretty sure his pronunciation sounds like absolute hell, the words sometimes more harsh than he intends, making him want to turn himself inside out in embarrassment. All these feelings, they’re difficult to describe.

Especially the ones relating to Sam Wilson.

Sam. 

Sam, Sam, Sam. He’s the only other constant visitor in the back of his mind, and whether that’s a good or a bad thing, up for discussion. A welcome distraction or… something more painful.

Yeah, this feeling is a hard one. Maybe it’s because it’s more than two decades since he’s felt it, or maybe he knows, deep down, that he hasn't ever felt it at all.

Since they met, he’s sworn that he hated him. But he doesn’t. It’s so bleeding obvious he might as well get it tattooed on his forehead.

Annoying, positive, calm, vulnerable, perfect Sam. Perfect- ugh, yes, it’s the only word left for him to describe him. It makes sense, like a lightbulb flicked on in his head and since then it hasn’t stopped shining.

Bucky doesn’t really know how this happened. Why or when. Maybe it came to him in that final battle, finding himself living and breathing, and the very first person he saw, first of anything he put his eyes upon, was Sam.

Or maybe it already dawned upon him in Steve’s awfully cramped car, where Sam wouldn’t move his stupid seat up.

Regardless, along the way, his habit of mumbling to himself in the Danish tongue in frustration or anxiety has developed into a way of letting things he doesn’t want his… co-worker to hear flow through, and out into the wide world, without any worry.

If he says what he wants to yell at the top of his lungs, in a way Sam would understand, that could only be the last drop into the oblivion of hating the universe. 

He won’t feel that way. Sam is so… good. Bucky isn’t. He deserves better than that.

It’s easier this way, he tells himself. It’s fucking easier. He has a hard time keeping his rage toward himself inside, but he does it.

And that’s exactly what he does, when their reunion in the airport has them at each other’s throats again , and as Sam goes on ahead, refusing for him to follow (of course, he does follow, anyway), and Bucky can’t help himself.

“Jeg skal være sikker på at du kommer tilbage.”

He utters the words through slightly gritted teeth, not realising how his breathing picks up too quickly until the other man glances back at him from the entrance of the aircraft, “What did you say?”

It’s the first time he’s not cursed at himself, and Sam’s response makes him jump in his skin. Honestly, the realisation of the words only settles afterwards, and he knows there’s no way he understood it. Not only is Danish one of the least widespread languages, so the chance of Sam even being aware of it is less than microscopical, but his voice is also in a steady fight with the wind. Lucky for once, huh.

“Nothing,” he lies. Sam doesn’t look convinced. Bucky adds, “Talking to myself. I’m still coming with you.”

The sounds are too loud around them, making him all the more eager to get inside. One of the many wonderful side effects of the aftermath of being brainwashed? Massive, stubborn headaches.

Funny enough, the pain might just be getting worse when the man in front of him visibly sighs, “Suit yourself.”

…

Going after the Flag Smashers, getting their asses handed to them, a certain thorn in his eye showing up, it all goes too quick for Bucky to fully comprehend.

In the end, Sam saves his life, because it’s Sam. Sam, who put his trust in him when he didn’t know him, when he had absolutely no reason to, and yet he did. He’s been spending a lot of time scared that the other man will come to regret it.

And it’s when they’re off the road and the world stops moving, and suddenly, Bucky’s looming inches above Sam’s face, grass grazing and tickling their faces. Or he’d probably feel that, if he wasn’t biting his cheek so hard that he might draw blood.

Sam groans but doesn’t move an inch.

I want to kiss you so fucking bad, Bucky wants to say. But that would be the stupidest and most reckless decision of his yet. Instead, he swallows the words and tells him, “Could’ve used that shield.”

Sam’s grip on his arms tightens, “Get off of me.”

The other man’s voice is strained and he pushes him off, leaving him to stare at the sky with a certain feeling of numbness.

He’s prepared for a long walk back from wherever they’ve ended up, too, Bucky’s not really paying attention to the surroundings besides the road and Sam relieving the tension that’s built up between them (far from uncommon with them, he’s got to admit) with his usual joking jabs.

He didn’t welcome his apology for Redwing much. It’s true, he hated that droid, but that doesn’t mean he’s not sorry… although, deeper inside of him he knows he’s saying sorry for totally different reasons.

I’m sorry you got hurt, is what. I’m sorry you had to pull me out of the fire that I got us into.

“What’s going on in that big cyborg brain of yours?”

Bucky sighs non committedly, he’s heard this one before. “It’s computing.”

And Sam laughs, softly and with a warm tinge that makes it hard for him to keep walking like he doesn’t care. The man next to him tries to be smug, and in the past these pokes at him would get him riled up and walk away without sparing it another thought.

It’s different now. He looks at his smirk for just a second before turning his head, and it’s fine, he won’t notice, stop worrying.

Sam doesn’t hate him, he’s realised. He realised that a while ago, admittedly, but what’s more important to the pressing in Bucky’s chest, Sam doesn’t fear him.

All this pain, hurt and confusion, the Avengers torn up from the inside and running from the government for years, and yet, there isn’t a hint of resentment in his steady voice, his deep brown eyes or the way he falls into step with his own body. Sam makes that joke because he’s a smug idiot who doesn’t let defeat bring him down. Maybe, he even makes that joke to get a smile out of Bucky.

The man at his side doesn’t hate him anymore. In fact, he’s not sure he’s ever hated him in the first place.

“You know what?” Sam says in between his breathy laughs, sounding like he just discovered a lost treasure, “I can see it! I can see the gears turning.”

If Bucky had it in him, he would dare to smile. He would dare to join his laughter, but he doesn’t. It’d probably come out sounding all wrong, anyway. 

Which is why he keeps his shoulders tight and gets back on track with what happened, and Sam follows suit. Sometimes he’s convinced the other man can read his mind. And because their arms move in synchron, within a distance where he could so easily reach out for his hand and feel what it’s like to hold it, his thoughts start running along with his mouth.

“Hvorfor gav du slip?” Bucky keeps his eyes glued to his feet, determined to keep the question to himself only, “Hvis jeg var modig nok havde jeg kysset dig.”

Sam’s voice returns to him, “Hm?”

“What?”

His co-worker laughs again, but he furrows his brows and suddenly it’s not that exact warmth that Bucky might’ve just allowed himself to feel safe in. Like the man next to him sees something in him no one does, not even himself. He’d like to know whatever secret Sam’s unlocked about him behind that look.

“You’re so weird sometimes, man.” he’s told, but there isn’t a single shred of judgement painted on any of the syllables. Sometimes.

…

“What was rule number two again?”

It was a stupid question, because Bucky knows. Those rules have been repeated too many times for him not to repeat it to himself whenever he needed to silence everything around him.

Don’t do anything illegal. Don’t hurt anyone. I am no longer the Winter Soldier. I am James Bucky Barnes.

Then why, after a failed mission, after meeting that fraud who thinks he can just take on the shield like it’s nothing, after his therapist put him and Sam through a conversation that led nowhere at all, does he feel like he just broke that rule?

Of course, he’s been bending the rules a bit.

Of course, he knows why he’s feeling like this.

True to his word, Sam waits for him outside. “When we’re done, we both can go on seperate, long vacations, and never see each other again.”

The warmth that radiated off of the other man earlier that day had vanished somewhere unknown, and the pressure on that last part made it clear. That’s what fills Bucky with the type of guilt and regret that makes him want to rip his own skin off. He’s all too familiar with that feeling already.

He doesn’t blame Sam one bit, obviously. Well, he’d still like to grab that shield from John Walker and shove it somewhere the sun doesn’t shine, but the anger he’d misplaced on his co-worker, it vanished as fast as it had first arrived.

Sam is so fucking good, it almost makes him want to cry.

Sam trusted his heart, trusted what he believed was right, and he didn’t know the government was going to snatch that opportunity and hand the shield over to some nobody who doesn’t know what it stands for. Hand it over like they had any say in the matter.

Bucky didn’t doubt Steve’s decision for a second, and Bucky didn’t- doesn’t doubt Sam. Especially now, he looks at him in the evening glow and understands why Steve trusted him when he trusted no one else. Bucky trusts him. He hasn’t been this confident about anything in ages.

But because his stubbornness never fails to take a hold of him, Sam doesn’t know that.

The other man notices him coming and is already walking. He doesn’t look him in the eyes anymore. Why would he? It’s not like he earned it.

Bucky tries hard to breathe around the lump in his throat.

And he doesn’t even bother hiding his contempt around Walker anymore, while Sam keeps him tied to reality, a hand on his chest that causes everything in him to freeze, until the malfunction can’t make him do anything other than turn around and walk away.

Down to business, that’s what they fucking talked about.

Bucky has an idea and he’s gonna get it out and make it a reality, and, surprisingly enough, Sam agrees. We go deal with it.

It makes for another long walk. But now it’s long and painfully silent. Fan-fucking-tastic.

He steals glances at Sam too many times for it to be considered casual, or fleeting, and he memorizes his fingers tapping his thigh mid-walk, his jawline, every single eyelash that’s blinking hard, a habit of his when he’s stressed, Bucky’s noticed.

Their movements aren’t synchronised anymore. It’s sort of poetic.

He doesn’t realise he’s muttering it to himself, “Undskyld.” because he doesn’t have the courage to hear Sam’s answer, “Undskyld.” because he knows there’s no way the man next to him is going to forgive him, “Undskyld.” because he doesn’t deserve his forgiveness.

He’d overstepped the boundary. Whatever progress they’d made in this weird dynamic of theirs, whatever closeness became a tangible size, is wiped clean from the slate because he was pissed. But it had nothing to do with him. Steve had, but the shield doesn’t. Sam doesn’t need him to tell him that.

“That some sort of mantra?” is what breaks him out of his head.

Sam’s got an eyebrow raised, his hands absentmindedly reaching for something, phone most likely, given they have to move fast.

“What do you mean?”

So the other man slows down and tilts his head, “What you just whispered to yourself.”

Yeah, Bucky’s a horrendous liar. And he can’t feign ignorance around Sam. He can’t fake anything, his body language, his thoughts, his emotions. He wished they’d shut the fuck up for a minute.

He sniffs, shrugs, pondering on the easiest way to get out of this confrontation, if you can even call it that.

“No.”

“Didn’t sound like English.”

“‘Cause it isn’t.”

Sam looks terribly kissable right now. Not because of the streetlights or the faint noise of traffic buzzing around them, but because he’s standing under the moon, almost glowing. Bucky imagines his stupid, addictive smile, and how the moon doesn’t stand a chance compared to his beauty.

He wishes that he could lean over and the man wouldn’t push him away. He’s a tragic romantic.

His co-worker also has that expression on his face that tells him he’s too drained for snark, probably incredibly close to calling it a day. Actually, he expects him to speak, but five seconds pass, and his whole demeanor shifts, and then they’re walking again.

Once again, Sam seems to know him better than he knows himself. We go deal with it. Never see each other again. It sounds great, sounds perfect, sounds ideal, he tells his internal voice, because if he repeats it enough times he might just convince himself to believe it.

It’s not like the thought of Sam never looking at him, never speaking to him and never, ever, wanting anything to do with him again makes him want to scream until he’s got no air left in his lungs. That would be ridiculous.

…

Things happen, and at this point, Bucky just comes to accept it.

It’s almost become a bitter-tasting routine. Something bad happens, his plan backfires, something worse happens, it goes too fast for him to comprehend, so he’s been attempting for the last months to only focus on the moment.

The moment and the memories creeping in the shadows. They’re the hardest to keep at bay.

And at the moment, he’s seated on Sharon’s couch in her luxurious apartment in Madripoor, she’s telling them what to do, because their plan didn’t exactly work, Zemo’s wandering around like the cockroach he’d let out, and Sam’s taken his fucking shirt off.

So Bucky keeps his look square on his drink.

If he keeps his posture, trains his attention on Sharon’s voice, maybe he’ll avoid feeling so flustered.

He’s become pretty accustomed to faking it, admittedly. Not exactly a good thing to lie to his therapist, he’s well aware, but that’s a problem for when this is over. Dr. Raynor, she just… she couldn’t understand him.

That’s not her fucking job, he reminds himself. Her job is to help him move on with his life. Put the past behind him, get a fresh start. Talk about his feelings. “You have to talk about it,” she’d told him. “You can’t ignore your trauma. It’s dangerous.”

She’s right, but like he told her, he’s fine. Totally fine.

And that’s not what he’s struggling with right now, anyway. He hadn’t let Raynor in on anything about Sam apart from ignoring his messages, because these feelings of his are surely one-sided, and besides, Bucky doesn’t think he deserves it.

Being in love, he thinks it’s called. Or maybe he’s just not ready for it.

“Try to blend in.” Sharon’s voice calls in the distance. Her smile is incredibly smug for some reason.

It doesn’t faze him that Sam’s trying to get his attention, and that she leaves the room, until the other man’s sitting next to him (now fully dressed, both to his luck and disappointment), making it, like, 200 times harder to ignore him. And he’s examining him with those all-knowing eyes of his.

Sam can read people pretty easily. Or maybe it’s just Bucky. Or maybe he’s just too obvious, that anyone could read him like an open book.

“Bucky.” is what he says, and Bucky simply nods tightlipped, but apparently that doesn’t serve as sufficient acknowledgement for Sam, because he places a hand on his shoulder.

He feels sort of pathetic for not knowing how to breathe now. Such a simple touch. A friendly touch. A gesture. Yet he can’t think of anything else.

Out of the corner of his eye, Zemo’s watching them and opens his mouth, but the man next to him beats him to it with, “Didn’t you hear her? Go.”

The hard tone always sounds wrong in Sam’s whole being.

And the man looking at them accepts the defeat, surprisingly enough, seeping out of the room faster than Bucky could blink.

So, they’re alone. Cool. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, besides keep drinking. Keep drinking, don’t say anything stupid, don’t hurt him more than you already have.

When he finally chances a look at Sam, he seems… troubled.

He’s not sure if it’s his imagination playing tricks on him, or if he’s stupidly hopeful, but somehow, it feels like the other man’s got something on his mind. What that is, who knows.

The hand on his shoulder hasn’t left.

“Hey,” he starts, barely a sound, more a whisper, perhaps in fear that Bucky would startle and hide away, “I won’t force you to talk about it- or, well, anything.”

Did Sam just stutter? That was definitely his imagination. He’s just… he’s so… warm. Comforting. Beautiful. Bucky’s hand is getting clammy around the glass.

And when he looks at the man again, his big eyes are utterly sincere, so much so that Bucky would rip his heart out and hand it to him if he wished.

He’s not sure how well he’s doing with controlling his face, careful, not to offer any tells.

How would Sam react if he kissed him, right now? If he made a big, dumb love confession? He doesn’t even know how to describe his feelings to him, so it’d probably be clumsy. Messy. And his worst fear of all, that the man next to him would push him off in confusion, or embarrassment, or disgust.

Bucky can’t risk it.

Sam sighs, “I’m just worried about you.”

That makes him frown, and his co-worker looks back in bewilderment. He should stop doing that. Stop looking at him like he means something to him.

It’s the look that pushes the question out before he can think, “Why?”

Sam just seems tired. Not tired of your shit, but rather tired of you talking yourself down, kind of. That’s what he gets from his face, anyway.

“Come on, Buck.”

“I mean, aren’t we supposed to never see each other again?” he then asks, but it comes out more blunt, and sharper than he intended.

Sam retracts his hand. His shoulder aches to follow it.

“Mmhh.” is all the other man’s voice comes with. He folds his hands in his lap, stares at it for a while like it’s the most interesting thing on the planet. Why, oh God, why does he look like he just got his heart broken? “Yeah, I did say that.”

He’s only seen that expression on Sam a handful of times. Once, when Steve gave him the shield. Two, when his friend- Torres, that was his name, mentioned something about Afghanistan and Sam promptly jumped out of the open shaft without a warning. Three, when he’d pushed him off of him in the field. What does it mean now?

Bucky’s brain plays all his words over and over, but doesn’t know how to process them, or analyze them, or come to a natural conclusion. So he downs the last drop of whiskey, “Jeg har brug for dig.”

Geez, that was blunt. He guesses it's thanks to the stars he chose the right language to blurt that out, and Bucky proceeds to release the tight grip on his glass, about to get up and follow Sharon’s order, but Sam’s looking at him again, and as he established forever ago, that makes him weak in the knees. His entire body, actually, now that he thinks about it.

“Is that- that the same language?” Sam asks. Bucky’s awkwardly frozen mid-sitting, mid-standing, listening. “You know, you were talking to yourself. Outside the station.”

He’s right. He always is. So Bucky nods.

“It’s a saying.” and that only makes it the other man’s turn to frown, understandable. Not the most creative excuse, but now he’s gotta run with it, “Like ‘Don’t give up’, or whatever.”

He recognizes every look in Sam’s eyes, jotting them down in his memory in fear of forgetting the only person that makes him feel human. His co-worker is tying him to reality. Yep, another revelation, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

This is the I don’t believe you for a second look. “That’s what you said? ‘Don’t give up’?”

Bucky snorts, “Nope.”

And so they both stand up, and from the other man already steps ahead of him, it’s clear he’s ruined another conversation. Like Sam gave up on understanding him altogether, and it makes him feel sick, because he isn’t exactly making it easy for him.

Look at me, Bucky hopes. Just look at me again. Please.

And Sam does. “And here I thought we were beginning to get along.”

…

Sam’s sigh is all too heavy for Bucky not to notice.

He thought he’d distract himself from Zemo’s annoying presence and annoying private plane by polishing his hand, but suddenly, the man in the other row looks painfully hopeless.

Sam can’t be that. It’s all wrong. He’s supposed to be made of sunshine and full of hope. He makes Bucky have some sort of hope.

“You okay?” he finds himself asking. He’d even put a hand on his shoulder the same way the other man did back in Madripoor, but it feels a little too personal when he remembers the third person in the room.

By the way Sam jumps just half an inch in his seat, so subtle you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t looking closely, Bucky can only guess he’s surprised he’s the one initiating conversation, for once.

“Yeah,” he answers, but it doesn’t sound all that true. “Just thinking about all the shit Sharon had to go through.”

That’s the thing about Sam, because he cares, cares like he’s pouring out his heart on everyone and saves nothing for himself. He cared about Bucky after knowing him for a day. He had a hard time believing it, but it’s true. And it’s what he likes- loves… loves about the other man the most.

Sam continues, “And Nagel referring to the American test subject like… like Isaiah wasn’t even a real person.”

Bucky feels stupid for nodding along. He should be saying something, or he feels like he should be making up for weirding him out back in Sharon’s flat, or apologise for yelling at him in the shootout, or anything. Apologise for breaking out the douche who’s plane they’re currently in, most of all.

See, talking seems easy, but it’s not when the words are overthinked as deeply as he does himself. Maybe that’s why him and Sam are as they are. Or maybe it’s in spite of that.

When Sam talks, he means every word. His voice is hushed, and he’s leaning into Bucky’s space now (which may or may not make him panic) to make sure Zemo stays out of their business. Not that they both don’t know he’s not going to do that, obviously. Again- his fault.

“Maybe I should’ve destroyed it.” takes him by surprise, though.

In his mind, in his inner voice of logic that he never listens to, he instantly understands why Sam says it, and agrees. There’s a lot of people in this world Bucky’s wronged. There’s a lot of people he hasn’t, but he still longs to help, or somehow feels guilty for. He still wants to change things. Isaiah is on the top of the list.

Which list is Sam on top of?

He’d not thought about his feelings like that before, but it hits him like it hit him back in Madripoor. He’s the only one I have left is replaced with He’s the only one that makes me feel like this so easily. Lightheaded and aching for his company, his attention, whatever else Sam will spare him.

Instead of agreeing with him like his brain is telling him, though, his pride kicks in and circles back on  The shield is yours, Sam. You fucking perfect asshole.

And Bucky’s not gonna take the shield, it’s bullshit. The other man knows it’s bullshit, and the look they share is a silent agreement that it’s bullshit.

Mysteriously, the cockroach owning the plane disappears to the bathroom, or whatever.

Maybe he’ll put his hand on Sam’s shoulder now. That would be meaningful. Would prove to the man that he cares, and he knows that Bucky cares about Isaiah, and the shield, and the mission, but he doesn’t fucking know that he cares about him.

But once again, his stomach drops and he keeps his hand to himself. Stupid.

It’s when the other man leaves his space and opts for leaning against the window that he has time to wonder about Sam fully, and why he hesitated back there. They shouldn’t see each other again, but he hesitated. 

Does he regret saying it? No, that’s crazy. 

It’s for the best, Bucky figures. He supposes he shouldn’t mourn the loss before it’s even happened, but it already seems like he’s reaching out in the darkness for Sam, who’s better than he’ll ever be, who deserves better than to drag him around like this, and it’s like he’s already gone.

Fuck, he really should talk with Dr. Raynor about that.

And the man he can’t stop looking at would probably have that concerned look on his face if he heard Bucky putting himself down like this again, out loud.

Sam wanted to talk to you that nagging voice tells him, for the millionth time. Why didn’t you let him?

He can’t figure out what he would’ve said if he could go back and change it. Stay completely silent? That would annoy Sam. Take that love confession by the horns? Sam would let him down in the nicest, most gentle way ever, he’s sure. 

That wouldn’t hurt that much, but his chest always gets a little tighter when he lies like that. It would hurt endlessly more.

Bucky does come back to reality, eventually, when a door clicks shut and Zemo’s talking to his friend (servant? pilot? who gives a shit), and his co-worker's breathing has evened out.

It’s probably more than a little creepy to watch him sleeping. Hm. But peace rests over him and it, somehow, stretches its wings towards himself as well, regardless of Sam’s position with his neck and half laying on his arm that doesn’t look comfortable in any shape or form.

“Jeg ville følge dig til verdens ende,” Bucky says. It’s barely a whisper to himself, to shut up his head crying out loud of possibilities, because what if Sam wanted him to stay? What if in some miraculous alternative universe, he felt the same way? It’s a daydream, is what it is, “hvis du bare ville give mig lov.”

…

He clenches his fist, unclenches, clenches.

Sam seems worried. Bucky can’t see him, since he’s turned his back towards him and faces the window while gaining the feeling back in that vibranium arm of his, but it radiates off of him.

Maybe he does need the space his co-worker’s giving him. Or maybe he just needs a drink and a hug and a chance to sleep. Who knows?

He hasn’t hugged anyone since reuniting with Steve. Well, unless you count Sam saving him as a hug, which he doesn’t.

It’s when he turns around again that the other man is, first of all, a lot closer than he expected him to be, secondly, giving him a small, tense smile. But it doesn’t look uncomfortable, in fact, the effect is exactly the opposite, and Bucky can’t help but return it, gratefully.

He doesn’t think too much about this smile not being forced, like the ones he’s gotten used to doing in public. Sam doesn’t need to know that.

Bucky also is, for once, two steps ahead of his co-worker, answering the question he doesn’t have time to ask, “I’m fine.”

Not easily fooled, he knows the man watching him from the couch looks wary, but Sam’s probably too shocked by the fight and Zemo’s escape to argue. He himself knows he is, which doesn’t help his guilt. But what point is there in guilt anymore? It’s not like he can un-let him out of prison.

He sits down with reasonable space between them. Significantly further away from each other than back in Sharon’s flat, not close enough to touch.

Truth be told, Bucky’s still processing it. Zemo’s escape, he accepted that easily, and it’s probably the least surprising thing he’s experienced in a while. When Ayo removed his prosthetic, that was something else.

And his friend left without another word. What could she have said that made the case anymore clear, really?

They don’t trust him, and despite the overshadowing thought of No one trusts me, Nothing’s changed, Not even myself, it’s hard to blame Shuri, or T’Challa. They saved his mind, saved his life, and he’ll be in debt to them until his grave.

Bucky understands them, he does. He does. He wouldn’t trust himself.

But a little sliver of his stomach still wrings itself inside out of… betrayal? He doesn’t know if that’s the right word, but it’s sufficient for now. Of not being told. Of not knowing everything there was to know about this thing that was a part of his body now. Still feels partially alien, a separate entity altogether.

But there’s no anger to be found. Instead, he lets his attention fall upon Sam. As always, “Are you okay, though?”

The shorter man furrows his brows. Smile’s still intact. “Depends on your definition of okay.”

Of course, he makes another bloody joke, at a time like this. Bucky snorts, and his co-worker looks all too pleased to have it succeed.

Sam glances back, seems like he’s seriously considering the thought of a drink that Bucky’s too exhausted to fulfill, but apparently decides against it, “I didn’t know you were so sentimental, Buck.”

“Can you shut your face?”

Why does it feel exceptionally good to laugh when Sam laughs? Doesn’t surprise him, the feeling he supposes are metaphorical butterflies in his gut doesn’t, either.

The other man’s keeping his eyes in his lap again, picking at the skin around his fingernails and, for the first time ever in the time he’s known him, looks nervous. It’s strange, but so endearing, and he’s so, so pretty.

Funny, that word endearing, Sam’s strong arms could wrap around him as easily as they could take several people out if he wished, which- okay, don’t think about that right now. The imaginary sensation of the other man’s skin against his and Bucky’s face buried in the crook of his neck, that is.

He feels lighter. Sam always knows what’s needed after a shared experience like this. Does he know him too well?

What Bucky does know is that the other man stands up, and instead of heading towards the door, he passes him on the way to pick up their jackets. A hand on his shoulder again. Gracing it more than a steady grip, but still.

He doesn’t stay for long, but his fingers glide down his arm a bit. The touch is the softest thing possible, ghosting over him like Sam doesn’t want him to notice.

But he does. A shiver runs down his spine.

It’s so faint that it disappears as unexpectedly as it comes, and his co-worker’s already at the other side of the room when he finally gains the courage to raise his chin.

Sam’s attention is taken by his cellphone, so Bucky decides to speak, “I don’t blame you, ya know.”

A beat before he notices, snaps the phone shut, tightens the hold on his jacket just a smidge, “For what?”

“The shield.”

“I thought you did.” he replies, because yeah, that’s what he said literally minutes ago. He doesn’t look offended, though. Good.

When Bucky can’t find the sufficient words, he nods. Licks his lips. Then tries something, “I’m an asshole, I know.” and grimaces at himself, “I’m too stubborn. I’ve been listening- I listened to you. I put all this shit on you… I’m trying to apologise.”

The other man smiles again, not tense anymore. Not gripping the jacket like it’s lifeline anymore, either. He slips it on instead.

He just wants Sam to know, so badly, that he cares. This is a start. “Sorry. I can’t believe my apologies suck, too.”

The silence is calm, it’s maybe ten, fifteen seconds tops. Just enough time for his insides to freak out before the shorter man hands him his own jacket, and then offers him a hand to pull him up. Act cool. Act fucking cool, Bucky.

He also wishes he could cling to Sam forever, but that would be the direct opposite of cool.

“It doesn’t,” he tells him, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, pats his arm a couple of times to get the message across, he guesses, “Thank you. And thank you for having my back. You know, I think this communication thing could work, if we really tried.”

Stop being so ridiculous. Stop being so fucking dreamy. Seriously.

Bucky doesn’t roll his eyes, and if he looks lovestruck right now (he’s fairly sure he does), he’ll just have to feign ignorance later if the other man notices. This feels… yeah, you guessed it, good. Tingling in his chest a little. A lot.

He doesn’t even care that the man in front of him reaches for his phone when it rings, controlling his neutral tone of voice when he says, “Tak fordi du stolede på mig.”

Bucky’s fairly certain the words go unnoticed when he puts on his jacket, but of course, Sam covers the microphone and reaches him with a promise, “One day I’ll figure out what it is you’re whispering to yourself about.”

…

On the water, the 2am darkness enveloping him and reminding him just how alone he is, Bucky has time to think.

Mere days ago, the government’s very own Captain America murdered one of the members of the Flag Smashers, and in an eerie and familiar haze, all he and Sam could do was watch. So did Karli. So did numerous regular citizens with mobile phones.

And before Bucky could break and chase Walker down (because let’s face it, a government putting him in the suit? Bucky doesn’t trust those superiors for a second), his co-worker’s got a hold on his wrist and tells him he needs to go check on his sister.

When he follows along, Sam doesn’t complain.

Maybe, possibly, the other man even invited him. It’s not like he’s got anywhere else to be, and it seemed like, for once, Sam didn’t know what to do. A timeout is necessary, he said.

That’s an understatement.

Bucky just hopes that Karli and the rest of the Flag Smashers did the same and got the hell out of there. The shorter man’s got her number, so he suspects he told her so himself.

And Zemo? How the fuck is he supposed to know? The world’s gone to absolute shit, and they’re stuck in the middle in some kind of limbo.

Add Bucky’s unresolved feelings for his co-work- friend? Friend.

Surprisingly enough, Sam’s sister didn’t seem particularly surprised that her brother brought someone along.

Sarah’s a heaven sent. She smiled brightly and hugged him with one arm like they’ve known each other for years, juggling things out of crates on the harbour like it’s nothing. Witty, albeit a tad more serious than Sam, and she doesn’t take his shit for a second.

Her sons were more overwhelming, but Bucky’s not used to being around children, mind you.

They ran to him in excitement, speaking over each other, and he took a step back, because those creeping memories of the soldier and the fear of hurting someone again is rooted too deep to disappear.

Sam patted his back, though. It’s fine. You’re fine.

The boys also couldn’t take their eyes off his left arm and convinced him to lift them both when they bet he couldn’t. They surely know how to drive a bargain.

It’s funny, how much they liked that thing. Makes him think he could get used to the extension himself, eventually.

Sam’s family is so… normal. They’re warm and excited and hard-working and hilarious. He likes the way the other man looks around here, even more bright than usual, domestic and bantering with his sister for a living. They remind him of his own family. He won’t think about that.

But it’s the third night he spends in their home, after another one of the best dinners he’s ever had in his long life, amusing the boys with superhero stories until they’re exhausted and sent to bed, that Bucky wakes up in a cold sweat on the couch.

There you are, nightmares. It’s been a while.

It’s not surprising, of course, but he’s been avoiding sleep until the point of passing out, lately.

And Bucky didn’t know where to go. He didn’t want to rummage around in the kitchen he’s been too kindly invited to for alcohol, which they most likely didn’t have lying around anyways, as well as risk waking any of the family sleeping blissfully unaware.

But he also couldn’t stay, he was itching to move.

So, here he is. He found his way back to the harbour, and Sam’s family boat, not even dressed in more than his t-shirt, banged up jeans and boots, but the cold is a welcome distraction.

Would be good if he had a bottle of whiskey too, but whatever.

It’s times like this he’d rage inward on himself. Curse his head, curse his feelings. Curse his fucking decisions and stubbornness. Curse Walker and Zemo and Hydra. Curse the shield and curse Steve.

Yeah, it’s too much. He really should let Dr. Raynor in on this, if he gets a chance to go back to his regular sessions, that is.

The staggering quiet almost invites him to yell some of that rage out loud. Until, “Thought you might be here.”

Bucky would’ve sprung up and grabbed whatever could be used as a weapon nearest, if he didn’t immediately notice the tenderness in Sam’s voice, noticeably hoarse. He doesn’t know what to answer, but the other man sits down across from him, looking exceptionally soft.

You’re a goner, Bucky Barnes.

The silence between them is nowhere near awkward, but he feels like breaking it regardless. “Sorry I woke you.”

Sam huffs, and he imagines he’s rolling his eyes, “You didn’t.”

Hm. He scratches his neck and his chin. The cold is suddenly becoming a problem, so he wraps his arms loosely around himself. The other man’s doing the same, despite wearing a sweater.

“Nightmare?” he asks, eventually. Bucky nods.

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.”

Is this the end of the conversation? God, he has no idea how to continue, anyways.

He’d ask about it. Ask Sam what he’s seeing behind his eyelids at night, and if it invokes the exact same kind of pain he feels himself. Ask him about the Air Force and how his world changed and came crashing down. Ask him about Riley, who he only knows by name and a single photo.

Bucky can’t get the words over his tongue. Instead, he just wonders why he’s here in the first place, why Sam’s still sticking around with him and why he was allowed into his life.

Well, he followed him first. But he doesn’t feel like he deserves the peace he’s been given the last few days, or Sam’s nephews looking at him with wide eyes and zero judgement. Sam looking at him with zero judgement. Fuck.

He clears his throat, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

He’s adjusted his eyes to the darkness now, and there goes the shorter man looking at him, not intensely but just… looking, the way that makes Bucky’s stomach jump in loops and urge him to stand up and kiss him already.

Sam shakes his head, smile timid but sure, “Another time. I’ll let you know.”

Oh boy, does he know that feeling. They’ll talk about it, eventually. He’s not ready himself, but one day he will be. He hopes so. “Me too.”

The boat’s swaying subtly, a sliver of moonlight is touching Sam’s hand on the railing and Bucky thinks he might fall into an non-existent black hole.

On the contrary, the other man is slightly shivering from the ocean wind. He shouldn’t think about what it’s like to hold him. They’re friends now. Friends. Friends.

Still doesn’t stop him from sealing the deal to himself, “Jeg elsker dig.”

Like he hasn’t known all this time. Since that day they reunited, since before. Bucky’s painfully in love with someone he’ll never have the courage to tell, openly and upfront, anyways. Maybe he’ll get over it.

It does take him a few minutes before he notices Sam’s soft smile, worn like his heart on his sleeve, second nature and drawing everyone in with ease, turning into a shirt-eating grin. 

Weird. Whatever. Wait-

“Really?” he asks him.

Oh my God. Oh no. Oh fuck.

Bucky’s eyes must widen to the size of fucking teacups. He’s never been this eager to get up and move out of a situation before till now, “Sorry?”

Sam notices his unease before he even finds it himself, “Bucky.”

“Oh my God.”

“Bucky-”

“I have to go.”

Doesn’t get very far. Five inches maybe, before the shorter man stops him in motion. Bucky could easily shake his hand off, but he doesn’t, of course he doesn’t. Sam gets under his skin every time.

His thumb caresses his wrist, “I want you to stay. Can you stay?”

Fucking fuck. Bucky gulps the embarrassment down and relaxes his stiff shoulders. Or tries to, at least. His ears are ringing.

“Will you look at me?” Sam then asks, and how could he refuse anything from that man?

Takes some courage, of course, but he has to. Take the rejection already. Come on. But when he turns around his friend doesn’t seem disgusted, or disappointed, like he fully expected him to.

“Stop looking at me like that.” he finds himself saying, before he can shut his stupid mouth up. And Sam looks absolutely desperate, “Like what?”

“Like I mean something to you.”

Kiss me. I wish you would kiss me. Sam’s perfectly formed lips are still in a smile, not small, not a grin. But just right. And then a hand is touching Bucky’s cheek.

“That’s the thing, you idiot.” the shorter man tells him, “I can’t exactly stop it. But if you want me to-”

“Have you known all along?” he interrupts with. Feels like laughing at himself. God, that would be beyond ridiculous, wouldn’t it? Saying everything on his mind, not knowing his friend heard every word of it. Secret’s out.

There’s another hand finding its way to his face, “I didn’t. Google helped me- uh, after Madripoor. Took me a few tries with the spelling before it gave me a clue. And, well…”

“My pronunciation is pretty sloppy.” Bucky’s circling around what’s happening. Why is he doing this? Because it’s too good to be true, probably. Please don’t be a dream.

Embarrassing, then… then the warmth against his cheeks. Then the impossibly soft and meaningful eyes not escaping Bucky’s for anything. Then his heart beating too fast, like it’s going to crawl up his throat and escape his vessel.

Sam shakes his head with a laugh. Heartily, caring, “Do you mean what you said? You love me?” to which Bucky laughs himself.

“Yeah,” he feels weak in the vocal chords, but gets it out, because he has to, “‘Course I fucking do. Is that okay?”

“It’s more than okay.”

And there, on Sam’s family boat in the middle of the night, wind rushing behind his ears and his breathing too loud like everything isn’t quite real, Bucky smiles like his life depends on it. Because the man in front of him deserves to know. He needs him to know. And fuck the world. “Will you kiss me now?”

Sam’s smile is so fucking pretty, it’s the best thing he’s ever seen. He looks at him like he’s special, and he feels it. Feels everything deeper and deeper, “I thought you’d never ask.”