#Clint Barton reader insert | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

unholyhelbig · 3 months

Note

request: oversight au, nat and reader run into reader’s ex or ronnie’s father who was abusive to them… how will mob nat react?

Title: Old Flames [An Oversight Oneshot]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: When reader has an unexpected run-in with an old flame and things go less than well, Natasha takes things into her own hands.

Warnings(PLEASE READ): Talks of past domestic abuse, talks of abortion, buried alive references, broken glass, blood (always), Heights, threatening statements, non-consensual kiss, horrible grammar (aways).

[a/n: Okay, I had way too much fun with this. While I loved writing the main story, it's also super great to branch out into some more dynamics with Mob Boss Nat, because I haven't made her mean enough yet.]

Check out the full Oversight universe

The apartment building on the corner of twelfth and Hawke was a large midcentury brick building that structure that stretched to the sky. A metal fire escape latticed up the side and stretched clotheslines dripping with shirts and pants connected it to the adjacent building that had long since been used for storage.

Up until this point, you had avoided this building. Luckily, the tenants were quite timely with their rent and left little need for an enforcer to knock door to door. But it was right after the holidays and things were tough. That much, you understood. But it didn’t’ change the fact that three units were more than two months behind on their rent.

Them, you could appeal to with hot chocolate and some gentle urging. But according to Clint, there was a particularly nasty group of people living on the top floor that had gotten multiple noise complaints thrown their way.

The address hadn’t seemed familiar until you stood at the entrance and got a good look at the golden door that contrasted the rest of the structure. You’d written the code to the door on your palm, and you were having trouble differentiating the last number. It was a zero, or it was an eight.

“Gross, you’re sweaty.” Kate had pulled your hand a small distance from her scrutinizing stare, trying to read the smeared purple markings. “I knew we should have used the napkin.”

The woman dropped your hand and stepped up to the small box on the side of the entryway. She hit every button known to man until the fragile voice cracked through the speaker. “Yeah, uh-huh, pizza. I have pizza. Pepperoni-“Her ramblings were cut off by the loud buzz in.

You were treated to an innocent smile as she wrenched open the door and allowed you to follow her in. She was innovative, annoyingly so. Most of the time it worked in your favor but sometimes you found her testing your temper just to prove a point. Thankfully, she hadn’t noticed your hesitation.

It was coming back to you now; the large entryway that was lined with lock and key mail slots and a bolstered wooden staircase that was scarcely used compared to the elevator. Natasha kept good care of the place, had repainted and made sure every single lightbulb was humming in synch.

Some would say that she improved the neighborhood, block by block. But there were still those who liked the way things used to be; living paycheck to paycheck with an angry and withering stare being sent your way with each collection call.

“I’ve got Miss Henderson.”

“Oh, come on.” You protested “She sounds so cool.”

Miss Henderson was an older woman who lived on the fifth floor. Most of the time, her rent was late because it had simply slipped her mind. One look at Kate and she’d write a check before offering some of the sweetest cookies you’d ever tasted, often sending her back with a plateful.

From what you had heard, she used to travel with a circus as an acrobatic performer. Her act was death-defying; a performance that relied on her partners quick bladework. The Swordsman and his Enchantress. There were illustrations of their travels hung up around her unit- ones that you would kill to see.

“Too bad, next time.” Kate mock pouted at you before clapping you on the back. “Don’t make too much of a mess up on the top floor, alright? I don’t want to scrub carpets today.”

She took the stairs two at a time and left you alone in the lobby. A cool blast of wind hit your back as a tenant walked in with their dalmatian, pink tongue lolling to the side as his owner checked the mail, barely sparing you a glance.

The type of New York residents that occupied this space had changed greatly. The last time you’d been here was a walk of shame that left your feet raw and bleeding. You’d rushed from the apartment with so much fever that you never returned for your shoes, or your dignity, for that matter.

This time, you had shoes on, ones that you had scrubbed free of blood until they looked presentable. They were leaden on the stairs up to the top floor. Once you reached the fifth, you could hear Kate’s distinctive laugh behind the oak door. At least she was close.

The top floor was nearly silent. You could hear a television, a hockey game that you’d been listening to sparingly on the way over here. It sounded like Toronto was pulling through. The sound of a beer cracking pulled you away from the muffled announcers words.

A radio was resting in an upper window. You and Kate had heard it from the street below, a French Pop station that you could barely make out the words of. French was never your strong suite, one language requirement in high school was enough for you.

Silently, you prayed, that it was a coincidence. That the radio didn’t’ belong to the very men that you were meant to speak to. They were flighty, you told yourself. They weren’t ones to stay and if they chose to stick around after all these years- well, you’d be impressed.

You knocked twice on the center door, the deep forest-green paint threatening to chip under the elements. The music stopped abruptly, and while you could hear that someone was whispering quietly in French, you couldn’t make out the words.

The man that opened the door was too familiar for your liking; his pale waxy skin, his deep brown eyes that were so dark they were almost black, the tattoos that were smattered in different designs against his throat, down his collarbone. Pockmarked on his arms. His hair was longer than you remembered, greasier and tied up in a bun.

He took you in for a singular moment, shock reflecting in his stare, but before he moved to shut the door. You stopped the action with one strong hand, putting your boot between the frame and the wood for extra measure. “Don’t be like that, Kazi.”

“All these years, and now you’re coming back for child support?”

He raked his eyes up and down your body in a way that made you feel violated. You held your stance. He seemed impressed by the bout of strength.

You tsked “if I wanted child support, I would have gone after it by now. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

He scratched under the sleeve of his tank-top, considering you the same way you considered him. Eventually, he seemed to figure he had nothing to lose pulling the door back and letting you enter the apartment. Waves of memory washed over you.

Kazi still had the same futon covered in the same ratty blanket. There was a kitchen table that was stacked with different folders that he would never, in a million years, let you view. A blue funnel was drying on the dishrack, and countless liquor bottles that had been emptied and cleaned were lined up, ready to be filled with the slightest bit of homebrewed alcohol.

He was still running the same scam after all of these years. You remembered liking the danger about him, the way his stubble felt against you when you straddled him. He’d been so alluring to a good girl like you. He would street race at night with another guy you’d met a handful of times, Robbie Reyes.

God, you had been so naive back then. He was drawn in by your innocence and you were entrapped by his experience. If only you knew where you’d end up in seven years; with Kazi’s biological daughter being raised by the most powerful woman in the city.

The moment you told him you were pregnant, he told you bluntly to get rid of it. That same night, he’d thrown an empty liquor bottle at you, just barely missing your head. You’d refused outright and accepted his anger in turn. Glass shards cut into the soles of your feet, and stained the snow all the way back to your dorm room.

The way he stared at you now infuriated you. “What do you want, then?”

“You’re two months late on rent.”

“I figured you’d keep tabs. Most women do. But my rent? That’s a new one.”

You picked up a small paperweight that you remember being fond of when you returned to this apartment after a first date where Kazi was a perfect gentleman. He’d bought dinner, and walked you back to his place. The glass object was tinted yellow, a small mosquito suspended in the center. He must have gotten it in a museum gift shop.

“Truthfully, I’m shocked you still live here.” You tested the weight of the object. “Most landlords aren’t very lenient about tardiness.”

“Yeah, well. She’s not very attentive. What can I say?”

Oh, but Natasha was quite attentive in more than one aspect, at that. You couldn’t’ help the smile that spread against your lips. Kazi was growing agitated with your presence, always quick to temper.

With all the strength you could muster, you threw the paperweight at the wall directly behind him. In its innate cheapness, it shattered into a million pieces, littering the carpet and slicing little bites into his skin. Kazi flinched and covered his face with his arms.

“Fuck! Y/n, what the hell!” He screamed.

“You have two weeks to backdate the rent, Kazi. Another week to get us this month’s amount. That sounds reasonable to me. Attentive, even.”

He reached into the back of his sweatpants and pulled out a silver Kimber, pumping the top chamber and aiming it at you with a shaky hand. He was too lax with his hold. A pinprick of crimson was dripping from a cut on his cheek.

“Come on, Kazi. It’s not the end of the world. I’m sure you can push some half-rate liquor. Sell a few of your gold fillings, and come up with the money my employer is required.”

“Employer? You work for that… monster?”

“Now, there’s a big word.” You closed the distance between the two of you, not giving him a moment to react before you wrenched the gun from his hand and threw it onto that ratty old blanket that adorned the futon he’d found on the side of the road. “So much horrible implication behind it too. You shouldn’t name call.”

Your boots crunched against the shattered glass. Kazi was barefoot, he flinched as flesh was dug into by uneven shards. You could smell the rancid coffee on his breath. He had a mole just on small of his nose.

“What happened to you?” he whispered, “Where’s that girl that stormed out of my apartment because she didn’t get her way?”

“A lot can change in seven years, Kaz.” You glanced around his apartment. “Well, most people change. Some people don’t go anywhere in life.”

Kazi pressed forward, his dry lips suddenly against yours. You froze in an instant, appalled by the acrid taste of cigarettes and stale morning coffee that he had no-doubt heated up in the microwave and drank black. The kiss was strong, rushed and painful in the way that his teeth knocked against yours.

It took less than a second for you to push him away. His head hit the cabinet behind it, rattling the glasses inside. Your hand was splayed out on his chest, nails digging into the stained tank-top he wore. He grinned wolfishly at you. Your teeth had dug so hard into his lip that it drew blood.

“I like this rough version of you, sweetheart. It’s hot.”

You reeled back and slapped him across the face with as much force as you could muster in your close proximity. The radio in the window seemed to flicker out of power at that moment, or maybe they had just run out of shitty pop music to play. Either way, the two of you were engulfed in silence.

“Shit, baby, hit me again!”

He had no idea how much you wanted to abide by that, though, you were quite positive that it would do nothing but spur on his arousal. This wasn’t going to work. If he kept pushing the way he was, you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from pulling your own weapon.

It suddenly became too much, standing in the middle of this time-capsule of an apartment. The memories were too strong. When the two of you were together, everything you did was for his benefit. And while this had been fun at first, testing him like this, it was too much.

You grabbed the collar of his sweat-soiled shirt, wrapping it around your fingers with enough force to tear the fabric away. “Two weeks, you fucking asshole. If you don’t have the money by then, I’m sure the city will have a fun time scrubbing your brain matter from the sidewalk.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” He sneered.

You pressed your booted foot down on the top of his, listening as the glass dug deeper into the soft skin. This time, he did cry out in pain, the grinding of pieces close to bone making his eyes water. You placed your hand over his mouth, muffling his protest. “I will make your miserable existence a living hell, with or without the money, for what you did to me. Do you understand?”

“You’re so full of shit-“ you pressed your full weight down and you squirmed under your hold. “Yes! Yes, I get it. Fuck!”

You pulled yourself away from Kazi entirely, straightening his shirt. He was slumped against the counter, staring at you with pure rage in his eyes. He shifted his full weight to his other foot, grimacing at the edged stain on the wooden floor.

“You should really clean that up.” You gritted, mouth still tasting of stale smoke. “Glass can be dangerous, Kazimirez.”

By the time you got to the car the only thing on your mind was taking the hottestshower possible. You’d pawed through Kate’s glovebox rather frantically and counted it a small blessing that that there was a single unwrapped piece of gum at the very bottom.

She cringed as you popped it in your mouth and let the minty dusty taste coat your tongue. If you could, without raising suspicion, you would have dumped solvent on it, just to take the taste of Kazi out of your mouth.

“I don’t know how long that’s been in there.” Kate said, watching you warily as you picked up her water bottle and downed half of that too. It seemed to take the rest of the rancid flavor away.

“I don’t care”

“You should care, I bought this car used.” She frowned, tapping her fingers against the wheel. “Okay, I didn’t’ buy it. I bought the license plates though, that’s my civic duty.”

Her words were enough for you to roll your window down and toss the gum from it. Despite your profession, you weren’t a very good liar. Not when it came to Natasha. She’d ask you about your day like usual and you’d crumble under her seemingly innocent gaze.

Nothing Natasha did was innocent.

“What happened up there?” Kate asked.

The two of you were well out of the city by now, and still had about a half-hour until you got to the mansion. The family liked their privacy, and after a year of living there permanently, so did you.

When you didn’t answer right away, she kept going. “Because I got cookies. Nearly choked on one when Miss Henderson insisted on a private show. It’s seriously a wonder that a woman her age can still bend like that.”

“Katie,” You warned, “Gross.”

“Impressive actually. She kept her clothes on, which I am eternally grateful for. It looks like you had a more eventful visit with the French dudes upstairs.” She scoffed, “Who the fuck is French anymore?”

You rolled your eyes and slumped further into your seat. Kazi was French. You used to crumble when he gave you the choppiest lines that he could remember. According to him, the language is harder to speak than it is to read and write. You never questioned him, just like you didn’t question a lot of things.

“I have a… history with the man who rents 807.”

“A history, or a… history?”

“The first one. The second one. Shit- I don’t know, both! He’s Ronnie’s dad.”

Kate slammed on the brakes with enough force for a layer of rubber to be peeled from the tires of her mostly stolen care. The seatbelt cut into your neck and you figured yourself lucky that you’d taken a back road that was rarely used, god forbid she cause an accident.

“Dude!” You shouted as she put the car into park.

Kate twisted her entire body in the seat, placing her hand on the back of your seat. The motor was sputtering wildly, trying to compensate for her abrupt stop. Something had to be damaged, you thought, with her force on the pedal.

“Don’t dude me. Are you really that dense? If you haven’t noticed, Natasha is possessive over her things. And you? Well, you’re one of her favorite things. She’s not going to take this well in the slightest.”

“Kate, I think I know how to handle my girlfriend.”

“No, you know how to handle Natasha, the sweet, loving woman who would die for you and your child. Admirable, really. But you don’t know how to handle Miss Romanoff, mob boss extraordinaire.”

But you had seen Natasha in action before, countless times. She’d always kept this calm coolness about her that you were in awe of. Maybe Kate was right. You’d only seen a fraction of her jealous side at the first party you had ever attended in the house. That night she ripped the dress she’d picked out specifically for you to shreds.

“I was dating a man named Eli when I was first taken in by the Romanoff’s, He turned out to be… not so favorable despite my constant reassurances. Natasha just knows. She had him dig a grave right off I-25 and then she made him lay in it.”

Your jaw threatened to drop at the simple fact. Kate removed her hand from the back of the seat and eased off the brake before she slowly got the two of you back up to an acceptable speed.

“All Eli did was cheat on me one night in a club. It wasn’t great, but I wasn’t sure if it warranted that kind of reaction. I never knew if she was proving a point to me, or to Eli. Either way, the smallest offense against any of us is met with archaic conviction.”

You didn’t respond to Kate, instead you stared at the trees that were whizzing by in a lush green wall of color. You’d decided that she was right- any type of reaction Natasha was going to have to Kazi would be severe.

“You’ll be fine.” Kate tapped her fingers nervously on the wheel, trying to backtrack her words. “As long as he didn’t’ touch you.”

It didn’t seem to matter how ferociously you scrubbed your skin with the honey scented soap you shared with Natasha, you swore you still smelled like smoke. It clung to your clothes, and lingered in the air after you’d shoved them to the bottom of the clothes basket.

The water was blazingly hot, filling the bathroom with a thick mist that made it slow to breathe. Natasha had chosen a dark blue tile that seemed to transport you into another world. Even without the scaring remembrance of Kazi’s lips against yours, his hands where you didn’t want them, you could stay here for hours.

Her hands were freezing cold and startling as they splayed against your naked stomach. You let out a small noise, going rigid before registering Natasha behind you. Her front was pressed against your back, and you’d know the curve of her body anywhere.

“Izvinite, moya lyubov', I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You turned in her arms and took in the state of her. She’d stripped down just as you had, small drops of water littering her skin like a constellation in the sky. She’d been in the sun today, a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose giving her away.

There was a bruise forming against the side of her jaw, one that you ran your waterlogged fingers over. Her eyes were an intoxicating shade of green, playing off the indigo tiles. You wanted to scold her for getting the bruise in the first place, but you were so entrapped by her simple presence, the way she fit so perfectly against you.

Natasha closed the distance between you both, pressing her lips against yours in a hurried kiss. You moaned into the embrace, allowing her tongue to find purchase in your mouth. God- you had missed her in the short few hours you’d been apart.

“Did you take up smoking?” she asked, barely pulling away, the words were spoken flushed to your lips. “It’s a terrible habit, darling.”

The glovebox gum hadn’t done its job, and apparently the swish of mouthwash and subsequent teeth brushing hadn’t done anything either. Of course, Natasha noticed. Of course. You weren’t going to try to hide it, though the thought did occur to you to save some heartache. But you were hoping you could placate her in a less slippery spot of the house when you were less naked and incredibly turned on by her presence.

A groan of a different cadence than she was used to escaped you as you dropped your head to her shoulder and clenched your eyes shut. “No, I didn’t take up smoking.”

“You taste like you have,” She gently led your eyes to hers. It was tender compared to the first time she had done so. “Licking ash trays again?”

“Gross, no.”

Natasha valued honesty above all. That much had been clear from the moment you met her. She’d nearly taken your head off in the gym when you repeated your one-night-stand with the enemy. The devil incarnate who happened to only be decent in bed. You remembered her hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough for you to give her the answers she craved.

“What is it, pet? You can tell me.”

“Do you… I’ve been with men before.”

She let out a small chuckle that reverberated off the deep tile. “Yes, I know. I didn’t want to make assumptions, of course, but Ronnie does have a father.”

The way you stared at her in the silence that followed the statement made the smile on her face falter until it dropped entirely. She must have seen something behind your eyes, something that weighed the situation down more than she was intending on a typical Wednesday night.

“I’d completely blacked it out and didn’t realize it until I stepped foot into the lobby, but he still lives in the same apartment on the top floor. He thought I was after child support, or something but things sort of… escalated.”

You felt like a child, spilling your secrets about a vase you had broken. This time it was a cheap paperweight with a bug in the center that you frankly felt bad for. The words came out like emotional vomit, granted, Natasha had become used to your rapid admissions.

Her grip tightened against your chin, “Escalated how?”

“He kissed me, and I hit him hard enough to break his jaw.”

That same silence enveloped you again. The scalding water had lost its effect, numb and beating against your back. The two of you were still impossibly close and there wasn’t much escape for you in a shower this size. The glass door having fogged up and only giving you a stunted view of the large bathroom.

Natasha had an immeasurable rage behind her stare, her lidded expression ran as dark as old blood. It chilled you to your core. She reached beside you and shut off the constant flow of water. You’d been in here for about an hour now and the cold air that touched your skin felt like an assault of needles. You instinctively wrapped your arms around your center to preserve warmth.

“He laid his hands on you.”

“Yeah, Nat, he did.”

“He touched you.”

“I gave him hell for it, but it didn’t seem like it was enough.”

“Without permission.”

“He’ll never do it again.”

Whatever split-second decision she made; it was done without the usual calculation behind her eyes. She threw the door to the shower open and forcefully shoved a towel into your arms. While you revered in the warmth, you watched as she sauntered in her usual way out of the bathroom and into your shared bedroom. She was dripping wet.

“Natty!” You stumbled over the partition and nearly slid on the bathroom floor. It was much colder outside of your cocoon of warmth and subsequent mist. She thankfully hadn’t left the room and was pawing through her side of the dresser. You nearly lost your footing once you reached hardwood. “Fuck,”

She seemed to find what she was looking for, a plain black tank top that hugged her sides and looked entirely uncomfortable to wiggle into while damp. You watched with baited breath in a sloping towel as she adorned herself with underwear and pants, before turning towards you.

“Get dressed.” She ordered in a dangerous tone.

Shit. She was going to make you dig your own grave. You’d just showered all of the grime from Kazi’s apartment off and in a matter of minutes you would have dirt up to your knees. Natasha may have let Eli live after his blunder, but maybe she’d cover you completely and let you suffocate in your own efforts.

Numbly, you put on a pair of sweatpants and the closest shirt you had. There was no need to get dressed for your own funeral, you supposed. The worms would chew through whatever you wore regardless.

Clint was stretched out on the chase in the foyer, a pair of thick-lensed glasses balancing on the tip of his nose. Regardless, he still squinted at the book in his hands. You wondered why he wasn’t in the living room, but caught a glimpse of a particularly intense game of twister between Ronnie, Yelena, and Kate.

Darcy held onto the board, flicking the small plastic needle and calling out the colors. When Kate clocked the anger in Natasha’s eyes, she dropped to her back, taking down Yelena and Ronnie with her.

She gave you a pleading look, but you were already too far gone to return anything other than a flushed expression. You followed obediently after Natasha. She opened the front door and watched you with a calculated expression before slamming the front door hard enough to shake the glass fronting.

“Get in the car.”

“Do you want me to grab a shovel?”

“What?”

She contemplated this for a minute, growling softly. The near silence was terrifying. Her arms crossed over her chest was terrifying. Your mouth with incredibly dry, and you wished that you were back under the constant stream of water.

“No. I don’t think we’ll need that. Get in the car.”

Numbly, you did as you were told, placing your hands in your lap. This was quite possibly the last time you would be sitting in any car, much less, next to Natasha. She reached across you and pulled your seatbelt into place, tugging on the upper portion until she was sure you weren’t going anywhere.

The tires picked up traction on the gravel and the drive that usually took an hour seemed to whiz by. Natasha was quiet, the route to the city more than familiar by now. She run her hands against the steering wheel until her knuckles were white. You could hear her breathing deeply, trying to ease her nerves. You didn’t dare say a word.

For a moment, you figured that she’d abandoned the idea of burying you alive and switched her ideals to something much more sinister and public. She pulled her car up to the front of the very building you had left a few hours ago, the sun just barely setting behind the skyline. You blinked at her, and then up at the very property that she owned.

“Come on.”

There was no room for discussion. The air here was clouded with the scent of smoke and the coolness of the cement structures around you. It was moments like these where you much preferred the country.

Of course, Natasha knew the code, she had recited it to you earlier as you and Kate ate lunch by the docks, stretched out on the hood of her car. It was wrong then and your nerves were too elevated to pay attention now. She got in without the theatrics.

There seemed to be more activity as the day for working folks began to wind down. Two people halted their conversation by the mail-slots, nodding solemnly at the woman. On the third floor, you caught a glimpse of a woman struggling to push her keys into the lock, juggling her gym bag. The sixth floor held a small boy who darted from one apartment to another, edging across the hall.

She kept climbing until that same irritating French pop filled your ears. He must keep it on at all hours of the day, just to drown out his own miserable thoughts. “What apartment?”

You lifted your chin slightly, hands shoved in the pockets of your sweatpants to ward off the biting chill. “807.”

“Spasibo, lyubimyy.”

Natasha’s booted foot connected with the center of the very door you had politely knocked on earlier in the day. You flinched, covering your face with a guarded arm. The wood of the doorframe seemed to splinter, slivers reigning across both sides of the entrance.

“What the fuck!”

Kazi was hunched over the kitchen table, the funnel that had been drying by the sink was positioned perfectly in the mouth of a soaked and peeled liquor bottle. He had a stack of his own labels ready to place evenly on the finished product. Both of his feet were haphazardly wrapped with gauze, small sprouts of blood worming through the soft material.

He’d taken care to clean up the glass, but with the way Natasha headed straight towards him, that didn’t matter much. More of it fell to the floor and shattered upon impact. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and started walking him backwards across the living room. Kazi seemed too stunned to speak, his words caught in his throat.

“I-I-I didn’t mean it! Please!”

“When you speak to me, you’ll do it clearly.” She gritted, shoving him towards the window. Somewhere in the scuffle, the radio had fallen from its perch on the cracked windowsill, crashing to the alleyway below with one last fizzled cry. “You had no trouble saying whatever you wanted earlier, did you?”

“I’m sorry! Fuck! I told that bitch I would have the rent!”

“Yeah? Was that before or after you shoved your tongue down her throat?”

Natasha bent Kazi’s torso fully over the screenless window. He grasped frantically at her hands, clawing at them as the balanced him over the long drop to the pavement below. His bare feet kicked, trying to throw her off her equilibrium, but he was much too weak for any type of damage.

“You walked out on them.”

“What? Oh, my god, what?! I told her to get rid of it- I didn’t walk out on anyone! You’re batshit lady!”

To you, it didn’t’ seem very wise to throw insults at the woman holding you above an eight-story drop, but Kazi never was known for his intelligence. His bravado, maybe, but never anything more. He looked so small compared to Natasha’s anger.

“She didn’t get rid of it, Kazi. She kept the kid that you couldn’t have bothered to give another thought to. She made a life for both of them. She fucking loves that kid enough to fill the absence you left.” Natasha let her hand slip, letting him waver in his height for a moment before pulling him back up. He was crying, sobbing for his life. “And you have the nerve, to touch her, to break her and then come rushing back when she was strong enough to pick up the pieces?”

“I wasn’t ready,” he moaned out “I couldn’t be a dad.”

“It seems like there are a lot of things you can’t do, doesn’t it? You’re a pathetic excuse for a man. A pathetic excuse for a human being and once we leave here- I never want to see your face in my city again. Am I clear?”

Kazi let out another course of intelligible, wet, words. His back was nearly breaking under the force of Natasha’s hold, her knee directly up against his crotch, pushing down with all the strength she could muster.

“Y/n, I think this is a teaching moment, don’t you?”

The softness of her words as she addressed you caught you off guard. There was no malice. In fact, she beckoned to you as if she was calling you into the living room to join her under the blankets for a movie. Your heart raced fast enough for your chest to ache as you closed the distance between you both.

“See, the trick is making them think that you’re going to let them go.”

She said this to you as if Kazi wasn’t a slobbering mess under her touch. He’d carved little half-moon marks against the tops of her hand, some of them starting to leak blood with the sheer force of his struggle.

“You have to get creative with the fear aspect. If they think they’re going to die, it tends to work in our favor. Doesn’t it, Kazi?”

“Please,” He whimpered, “I’ll do whatever you want. I’m sorry, y/n, I’m sorry.”

Natasha did the seemingly impossible, she pushed him further out the window, his calves struggling for purchase against the drywall. “Oh, now that simply won’t do. You must keep her name out of your mouth.”

“In situations like these, darling, it’s best to keep full control. If he was anything other than wretched, then maybe you’d have to worry about him fighting back. You’ll get some people like that, but that trick is having leverage, literal and physical in cases like this.”

“I see,” You let the words escape you in a single breath “and how long do we play this game?”

“Until they know it’s not one.”

It took little effort for Natasha to push Kazi the rest of the way out the window. In spite of his clinging grip, the force of gravity was enough to do the work for her. His cry stunted in his throat and it only took a few seconds for a dull thud to echo through the alleyway, followed by the unmistakable sound of a car alarm going off.

With a small gasp, you leaned over the window yourself, staring down at the white Toyota that now had a sizeable dent in the top, the windshield spiderwebbing. Kazi let out a groan that you could hear from up here, blinking up at the sky with malice and shock in his eyes.

“Nat,” You breathed.

“Please, eight stories is survivable. Some people need to be taught a lesson.” She shrugged, pulling you back into the apartment by the sleeve of your shirt. “I’ll pay for the car repairs, if that makes you feel better, detka.”

“You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“Of course I did.” She reached forward and cupped both of your cheeks, forcing you to look at her. It was impossible to ignore the gesture, the words that she had said with so much blind passion. Tears threatened to overtake your waterline. “moya lyubov', he put his hands on you without permission and before that… before that he hurt you in ways unimaginable. I meant every word I said.”

You could hear sirens in the distance, a hazard of living in the city. They could be for Kazi, you supposed, something to take care of the surely broken ribs and the bruised ego. But, they could be for something more important.

You pushed forward and kissed Natasha delicately. You wanted to be impossibly close to her. Most gestures you had received in the past had come in the form of flowers, maybe the occasional box of chocolate from the drug store. Once again- Natasha had proved something to you.

Her chuckle vibrated into the kiss, “Mm, we should probably leave.”

You couldn’t agree more. You wanted to get out of this stupid apartment that was teeming with memories of your time with Kazi. The way he claimed his love for you, and forced you to make a horrible decision all in one exhale.

As the two of you walked down the long and winding steps, Natasha asked, “What was with the shovel thing?”

You laughed, suddenly feeling foolish for fearing Natasha in the first place. Her silence caused waves, and somehow, that was worse than if she’d threatened you outright, something that she never did with much heat.

“Kate, she told me about her ex-boyfriend, Eli, I think she said his name was.”

“Ah, Eli.” She frowned, “He cheated on her, and I only made him dig for an hour.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself to me, as long as you never make me dig my own grave.”

“I would never do that. There is no punishment in things you can’t control.” Natasha gave your hand a squeeze, her solemn words punctuated with a slowly creeping smile. “Besides, detka, that’s simply not my style. It was much too messy.”

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

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanov #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha ROmanoff x you #Natasha Romanov x y/n #Natasha Romanov x you #Natasha Romanov x reader #Mafia au #Yelena Belova #Kate Bishop #Clint Barton #Reader insert #request

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3mcwriting · 1 year

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Secret Arrangement

(f/s) = favorite show

Warnings: slight violence, language, lil bit of kissing

Natasha clutched her side, glaring at the (now unconscious) Hydra agent who had shot her.

"You ass."

"He can't hear you, you know." Clint said, appearing beside her.

"Yeah, but he's still an ass." She looked down at her side, seeing the hole from the bullet going straight through. Thunder booming in the background because of Thor's earlier lightning theatrics.

"We should get back so you can have Banner check that out."

"Yeah, I guess." Natasha winced slightly, the pain from the bullet wound spiking whenever she moved. They walked back to the quinjet, Bruce immediately getting up to check her wound once they were in. "What time is it?" she asked, hoping she wasn't late.

"It's 8," Bruce responded, patching up her side. "You have to go back to the compound, I don't have all the stuff to treat you."

"No. What time are we going to get back, Tony?"

"Probably around 10, why? Hot date?"

Yes, actually.

"I have plans at 9, is there anyway we can go faster?"

Tony turned around in the pilot seat, grinning at me. "Hell yeah, we can go faster."

"Language!"

•••••

Natasha looked at her watch, wincing when she saw that it was already 10 past 9. "So, are you still continuing your plans with (y/n)? Y'know since you're injured and all that." Clint asked.

Her jaw dropped. "How do you know about, (y/n)?"

They had been careful to keep their relationship a secret so that (y/n) would never get targeted by someone who wanted to hurt Natasha or get revenge on her.

He snorted. "Please, you've been my friend for years. You think I wouldn't find out about you being in a serious relationship with someone? But back to my question, are you canceling your plans with her or not?"

She looked around, making sure no one had heard him, only to meet eyes with Wanda who was sitting a couple meters away. She looked surprised, turning to Vision who was sitting on one side with Pietro on the other.

Nat sighed. "Yeah, I think so. I'm injured and I don't want to worry her so I'll wait til I'm all healed up then head home."

She was disappointed, she had planned a whole surprise for her and now (y/n) wouldn't get to see it.

"Well...that's stupid."

"What?"

"She's gonna worry more if you spend the night in the infirmary than if you go home late to your plans." Clint said, twirling an arrow in his hands.

"I have a gunshot wound," she said, emphasizing the words. "You don't think she's gonna worry if I go home right now?"

He shook his head, exasperated. "She's an Emergency Room doctor. She's used to that stuff and she'll know that your side will be fine. So yeah, she'll worry, but not as much as if you spend the night in the med wing. Let her treat your wound. "

"Hmm," she thought about it. The thought of seeing you even sooner was appealing. "For once you're right, Clint," she raised her voice, "Hey, Tony! Drop me off at my apartment complex!"

•••••

"So, how exactly are you getting down?" Tony called out, keeping us hovering over my building.

"Just lower the rope ladder." Natasha responded, ready to get home.

"I'll do you one better," he said, then proceeded to land in the empty parking lot.

"Thanks, I guess, though seriously I could've just used the ladder," she told him, standing up from my seat.

"Yeah, but I wasn't gonna go down the rope ladder sooo," he said, also standing up from his chair.

"You're not coming with me," she stated firmly.

"Sure I am," Tony said with a smirk, "anyone else wanna come with me to see why Romanoff has been skipping out on us?"

"I already know why," Wanda said, sending me a knowing look. "But yes I'd like to come too."

Natasha sighed, mind readers are annoying.

"If Wanda is going I believe I should go too, " Vision said.

"Me too," Pietro chimed in, the rest of them quickly agreeing.

Natasha walked out of the quinjet, turning around and glaring at all her teammates. Steve, Tony, Thor, Wanda, Pietro, Vision, Bruce, and Clint all following her off of the aircraft. Natasha walked quickly, arriving at the apartment door quickly. They must've looked strange, the Avengers standing in the dark corridor outside of an upscale apartment, all of them still in their gear.

Natasha unlocked the door, opening it quietly. The hallway was dimly light, the scarce light shining from the living room. She could hear the sound of the TV, she smiled, (y/n) must be back to binging her (f/s). Nat turned around, shutting the door on her teammates, enjoying the shock written across their faces but wincing slightly from a pain that came from her side.

She heard the TV pause, "Tash?" Light footsteps came toward her, Nat moving to meet them.

"Hey, babe," she saw her, those lovely (e/c) eyes meeting hers as a delighted smile flitted across her face.

You moved to give her a hug only for her to stop you. You looked at her, confused.

At least, until she smashed her lips onto yours. You responded quickly, your lips moving together perfectly as she backed you up against the wall. Winding one arm around your waist while one held your face. You gasped into the kiss, bringing one hand to the name of her neck while the other settled on her hip.

Nat winced, stopping the kiss before continuing.

But you noticed the small flinch.

"Wait, wait," your mouth murmured against hers as you pulled away. Grabbing her hand and leading her to the couch, you lifted up her shirt. "Tash you should've told me," you sighed, looking at the stitches that Bruce had put there to close the wound.

"Didn't seem to matter-" there was a loud knock at the door, "I'll get it."

"No, you will not." You stood up, "I'll get the door and you relax."

You turned and walked down the hall, Nat heard her open the door and talk to someone. She stood up when she heard the many footsteps coming down the hall. You entered the room, the Avengers coming in after her.

She scowled, "I told you to relax, sit down."

"Lady Widow, who is this beautiful woman?" Thor asked.

Natasha held up her left hand, showing the simple gold and silver band circling her finger. "She's my wife."

"You're married?!"

"The fuck?"

"Since when?"

The Natasha Romanoff brainrot has set in, if you couldn't tell.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #mcu #mcu x reader #marvel x reader #marvel #reader insert #tony stark #clint barton

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glorystark · 21 days

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His Saviour | Part 1

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You disobey one of Steve's orders in a mission but you don't think about the consequences...

Warnings: (TRIGGER WARNING!) mentions of self harm and suicide, mentions of killing and torturing, pure Angst no happy ending, mentions of injures, dark!Steve Rogers, swearing, minor spoilers of Black Widow, Steve being an asshole in general

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Featuring: The original 6

Disclaimer: please don't read this if you're not comfortable with any of the topics below or/and if they trigger you. This is just a fiction and it's never ok to act like this. I'm not romanticizing any of these topics and this behaviour!

You are sitting in the Quinjet, observing everyone who is injured in different ways. Natasha has been stabbed in her right thigh, Clint’s left ankle has been twisted, and Bruce, although not injured, appears exhausted due to a significant code green call, during which Nat almost lost him trying to retrieve him. Thor has a few scratches on his face. Everyone’s faces show bruising in different areas, and their bodies are still aching. But you, you have been injured the most. Your right wrist is broken, and you have been shot in your left leg, though the bullet wasn’t deep and didn't cause major damage; otherwise, you probably would have passed out by now. You still have trouble breathing, and your voice is sore because one of the HYDRA agents almost choked you to death. Your face is bruised, you can only open your right eye halfway, and your lips are swollen. The numbness has made it so you can barely feel any pain. When everyone saw you upon returning to the jet, they were extremely worried. You didn’t possess inhuman powers and weren't a super soldier, but you used to be a well-trained assassin and spy in the Red Room, closely partnered with Natasha Romanoff before joining S.H.I.E.L.D. So, it was surprising for the team to see you so battered, though they understood the mission was challenging.

Everyone needed a break upon returning to the tower. Initially, everyone thought it was a straightforward mission: infiltrate a high-security HYDRA base, get two flash drives containing vital and dangerous information, and exit. What no one knew was that it was a trap, with far more agents present than expected. Eventually, you managed to escape, but only securing one of the flash drives.

As everyone settled back in the jet, Bruce finished removing the bullet from your leg and bandaging Nat’s thigh. Thor bragged to Tony about his usual lack of injuries on missions, joking that he could have taken down all the HYDRA agents that day if he hadn’t been 'unlucky', which elicited laughter from Tony. Clint checked on Nat while she recounted a memory from Budapest. Meanwhile, you contemplated going home for a long shower until you noticed Steve, whose eyes were fixed on you with intensity. Confused, you assumed he was lost in thought, but you were wrong.

“How could you be so reckless?!" Steve's voice boomed through the jet as he stood up from his seat, his gaze piercing into yours. Everyone stopped what they were doing, surprised by his uncharacteristically loud tone, given his usually calm demeanor, even when upset. You looked at him, uncertain of what to say. You understood why he was angry; you had disobeyed an order. However, if not for your 'disobedience,' you wouldn't have acquired half the information you have now. To you, this seemed like Steve Rogers throwing a typical Captain America tantrum.

“Well, are you going to answer, or are you too stupid to respond to a simple question?" he growled, advancing toward your seat.

“I wasn't being-" you began to mutter, only to be interrupted by Steve.

“Speak up," he demanded, his voice cutting you off. You met his gaze, puzzled by his demeanor.

“I wasn't being reckless; I was being thoughtful. The-" you tried to explain, but Steve interrupted again.

"Thoughtful?! You call that thoughtful?! Really, Y/n? It's clear you don't understand the difference between stupidity and thoughtfulness.” he retorted.

“Will you stop interrupting me?" you interjected, your voice growing louder as you rose from your seat. You locked eyes with Steve, standing almost chest to chest in front of each other.

“I wouldn't have interrupted you if I knew any useful words were going to come out of your mouth," he countered, finally yelling, causing everyone but you to flinch.

“You have no right to yell at me like this, Steve.” you asserted, standing up for yourself.

"I have EVERY right to yell at you, you-" he began, but you cut him off this time.

"Why are you making it seem like I committed a crime? Yes, I agree it was wrong for me to enter that room alone, but I retrieved the flash drive we needed, didn't I?" you challenged.

“That is not the point right now. The point is, I'm your captain, and I gave a strict, direct order not to enter that room, and you disobeyed me.” he stated firmly.

That was all true. When you disobeyed his order, you knew he would be angry, but not to this extent.

You sprinted down the hallway, incapacitating every HYDRA agent in your path. You tried not to use your gun too often, knowing there would likely be guards in the room.

"Steve, I found the room," you said through your earpiece. You subdued the agent guarding the room where the flash drives were, and as the door swung open, more than twenty HYDRA agents stood before you, blocking your view of the drives on the computer table.

“Y/n, what did you just say? Get out of there now! Do you even know how many agents are in there?" Steve's urgent voice echoed in your ear.

“I do now," you replied, still facing the agents, who were also eyeing you cautiously.

"Y/n, this is an order. Get. Out. Of. There. Now.” Steve commanded, his tone almost a shout.

“Sorry, Steve, but people's lives depend on this.” you declared, charging toward the agents, disregarding Steve's pleas for you to retreat.

“Steve, I really don't understand what the big deal is. I got one of the drives, and yes, I went alone, but at least I obtained something that will help us.” you reasoned, taking a seat.

“Alright, y/n, I'm definitely sure now that you are deaf. You entered a room with so many HYDRA agents-" he began, only to be cut off by you.

“They were like 10 and they were really weak-" you defended.

“They were 27 trained assassins!” he corrected, making you widen your eyes.

"And do I need to remind you that your leg has been shot, and you can barely keep your eyes open, not to mention the rest of your injuries." he added mockingly.

“Okay, Steve, I get it, and I'm sorry for being reckless. Can we let this go now?" you pleaded, sitting down.

“Let this go?!" he started laughing, though his laugh lacked any humor. Everyone looked at Steve, unable to believe his behavior. They never expected him to speak to you this way, especially in front of the whole team.

You and Steve had been friends since meeting during the Battle of New York. You had a lot in common and quickly connected. A few months later, at one of Tony's parties, he kissed you, and the following day, he asked you out. It had been six months since then, and Steve treated you like a princess. He called you his savior because you helped him adjust to life after being thawed from the ice. He adored you. You had a few minor disagreements, but they were hardly fights, more like disagreements. You could never stay mad at each other, and now you couldn't believe the man who was laughing at you and humiliating you was the same person.

"Steve, I think that's enough," Nat finally intervened, her voice calm yet firm.

"Is it really? I think baby y/n hasn't learned her lesson yet.” Steve retorted sarcastically.

“Fuck you, Steve. You can't speak to me like that. I'm not a kid. If it wasn't for me, we wouldn't even have that one drive, and god knows how many people could have died. But you can't even realize that because I disobeyed ‘Captain America's orders,' and no one is allowed to disobey America's 'hero.' The only kid between us is you!” you shot back, your voice rising, though not as loud as Steve's had been.

“I'm a kid, y/n? Really? And what are you, a hero? Do you expect me to thank you now? Do you expect all of us to be on our knees thanking you?!" Steve challenged.

“That is not what I said!" you finally snapped.

The tension in the room escalated, and the team grew more uncomfortable by the second.

Steve smirked at your angered state.

“What's the matter, y/n? You seem a little bit defensive. I thought you liked being a hero. You know, because of the guilt, since you started killing and torturing people at the age of 8.”he said, still wearing the hurtful smirk on his face.

The whole team gasped, especially Natasha, whose story paralleled yours. You looked at Steve, unable to believe what he had just said.

“You seem shocked, Agent y/l/n. Oh, and Natasha, don't take this the wrong way. We all make mistakes in our life, but at least after we realize our mistakes, we try to make them up as soon as we can and not run away like a coward.” Steve continued, ignoring your reaction. You and Natasha widened your eyes, understanding what Steve was referring to."Steve..." Nat began, but Steve cut her off.

“I'm not done yet. Some of y'all look confused, well, let me explain it for you," Steve said, addressing the rest of the team.

"Steve, don't." you murmured, your voice weak now. You weren't even sure if anyone heard you, and you were right. No one heard you, but Steve who chose to ignore you.

“Our dear y/n y/l/n was a well-trained assassin back in the years with Natasha Romanoff in a place called the Red Room, which I'm sure you've heard about. Before even Natasha was out of there, Agent y/l/n found a way to leave the Red Room, a way to save every girl, from children to adults, who were mind-controlled into killing, and even worse. But do you know what she did instead?" he turned around the room, looking at everyone as if it was a show. No one said anything; they just kept looking between you and Steve. It was getting harder for you to focus on your breathing.

“Well, in case you haven't guessed yet, she just left everyone who could've been saved, even her best friend who is sitting right here with us.” he said, pointing at Nat.

“And even though she could've killed Dreykov, who was the leader by the way, with her genius plan, she didn't because she was a coward.” he said, emphasizing the word coward.

You've never felt so small and betrayed. You couldn’t believe he was using your awful past against you. When you confided in him, he comforted you, assuring you it wasn't your fault. That you’ve been through a lot and you took the only chance you had to save yourself. And now… now he was a different person.

“Cap that’s enough, it’s not our business what she did in the past. We all did something in some point that we aren’t proud of. She made up for that mistake many times now, since the battle of New York until today’s mission. I’m sure she still feels guilty and you’re just making it worse.” Tony looked at your trembling sight, standing up from his seat and walked towards Steve. The rest of the team nodding along, glad that Tony stood up for you because they were frozen themselves.

“Oh yeah Tony, you’re right I’m sure she feels guilty, don’t you y/l/n?” He looked at you as if you were a kid

Everything about him was hurting you right now. His voice tone that humiliated you in every way, his eyes that sent daggers to your way, his body that was intimidatingly towering yours, his smile which always made you happy and now it was only mocking you. Your throat is dry, your eyes are wet and you feel like your heart is going to come out of your chest in any second. You were hurt and unwell, and everyone could see that, everyone but Steve.

“Agent y/I/n do you feel guilty about your past?" He repeated his sarcastic question.

"I wouldn't worry about that too much since you have a good way to cope with your guilt right?" He continued.

You looked up at him frighteningly, understanding where he was going.

“Steve don't you dare." you whispered, finally being able to say something.

Everyone was confused since they had no idea what you both were talking about.

“you seem scared agent." Steve smirked at you sending shivers down your spine. It hurts so much more that he wasn't even using your name anymore, he felt like a stranger to you.

“SHUT UP!" you had never yelled so loud in your life, the whole jet shook. Everyone flinched but Steve. It seemed like he was waiting for this.

“Come on y/n are you that afraid of everyone knowing how you used to deal with your problems, or do you still do it?"

Everyone was quite once again, something in them wanted to know what Steve was talking about but they also didn't because of the way you reacted.

You looked at him not saying anything but your eyes were begging him to stop. You've never been in such a vulnerable position, especially considering everything you’ve been through.

“oh don't tell me you're gonna cut your wrists open again because you feel guilty you didn't get the second driver."

Everyone froze and widened their eyes, silence filling the jet. No one knew that you used to harm yourself until you started dating Steve, he was the first person to ever know. You felt so comfortable around him that you didn't want to have any untold secrets.

You thought about what if you guys break up but you convinced yourself that even if you guys separate your ways from each other at some point, you're definitely going to stay friends and he's never going to tell your secret to anyone because you believed he was a good man. You trusted him more than yourself and now he proved you all wrong.

You didn't cut anymore, because you found a way to save people. If it wasn't for Nick Fury, making you join the team you'd be long gone by now. But you didn't have a reason anymore, you were happy you had a new family and a new job, everything was perfect for you. Now you felt alone all over again and you didn't even blame Steve, you blamed yourself. You failed.

You started trembling more and started to see black spots. The team walked towards you to see if you were okay. Thor pushed Steve away, "Stay away from her," he warned, before walking to you. You heard Tony and Natasha yelling at Steve, Clint trying to calm them down but looking angry himself, Bruce and Thor asking you if you were alright, but you couldn’t hear anything anymore. It was so loud, but you only heard annoying mumbles. You let out a sob before passing out in the strong arms of the god, the last thing you saw being Steve's worried eyes…

A/N: This was my first (published) fan fiction. I apologise for any writing and/or grammar mistakes considering that English isn’t my first language. Feel free to correct me! If you enjoyed this, please let me know and let me know if you want to be tagged in the upcoming posts! (This fic will make a twist;))

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skylarinfinity · 5 months

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[avengers having meet and greet with vip]

interviewer : so male reader, how you so strong for being a normal human in this team?

male reader : the only reason i'm so strong is because the body use forty-seven muscles when you cry and i cry myself to sleep every night [shrugs]

clint : [fake gasp] omg, same!

steve : [sigh] please ignore them-

male reader : and if you wondering why i cry myself to sleep [point at steve] him... just him.

tony : [giggling] i think we all been there!

author notes i will start putting four incorrect quotes everyday :)

tags lists @sonicqaulan @graysonfriggason @thebettermaximofftwins @sloanalistair @acienthazard @starlinggoldeneyes @ortegaolsen @wednesdaywanda @sandwichmarvel @gardenofmarvel @wanda-cabin-natasha-jacket @panandinpain0 @badblondebisexualboy

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screechcat · 11 months

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Avengers arguing about who has the best ass

Y/n enters the room

Avengers: Y/n, who has the best ass?!!

Y/n in the most serious voice: Chicken butt

Avengers: ..... what??

Y/n: chicken butt

Y/n proceeds to hold up, said chicken with said best butt.

Y/n: chicken butt

Avengers mentally: Where tf did they get that chicken

#incorrect mcu quotes #mcu #marvel mcu #the avengers #frienship #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff #tony stark #steve rogers #thor odison imagine #bruce banner #clint barton #reader insert

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supercap2319 · 1 year

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"Thanks for having us on your farm, Clint. I know you must have more than enough mouths to feed already." Y/N and Ikaris had been invited to Clint's farm for three weeks and it gave Y/N time to spend with his older brother, Pietro, who has begun something with the archer.

Clint smiles as he looks at him. "No problem, kid. I'm glad to have more people around here. Means I won't have to kill your annoying brother." Clint said as he stacked some hay bales.

"Remind me again why you fell for Pietro when all you do is argue and tease each other?"

"Because he's got a really nice butt. And he looks so good when he cum—"

"—Okay, that's enough information." Y/N frowns as Clint chuckles. "Looks like Ikaris is getting into the spirit here on the farm." He pointed to the Eternal dressed in black boots and a cowboy hat with blue jeans.

"Wow... He's... He's..."

"Ride 'em cowboy, my brother." Pietro said as he suddenly appeared, giggling as he looked at Ikaris.

#x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #ikaris x male reader #ikaris #richard madden #Richard Madden x male reader #mcu eternals #clint barton #hawkeye #quicksilver #aaron taylor johnson #jeremy renner #hawksilver #Clint x Pietro #Clint Barton x Pietro Maximoff #Hawkeye x Quicksilver #farm boy

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avengerscompound · 9 months

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The Recruit - 30. You

The Recruit - An Avengers Fanfiction

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Clint Barton x Bucky Barnes x Sharon Carter x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Sam Wilson x F!Reader

Word Count: 2656

Warnings: smut (MMFF bisexual threesome. Vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, overstimulation)

Synopsis: When Sam Wilson is set up on a blind date, he doesn’t expect anything to come from it. He is already in a relationship after all, and not just with one other person, but a whole group of them. You never expected to end up working for the Avengers let alone be dating six of them at the same time. Now you’re balancing a new job, a new romance, new friends, and a secret that could destroy a lot of lives if it got out. It’s a tricky balance to get right at the best of times, but when something happens to Steve Rogers it’s up to the people who love him most to get him back.

30. You

There was a heavy and rapid thud in your ears as you made your way down the hall to Steve’s apartment. Each step you took was nervous and light, like you were tiptoeing down there, terrified you were going to get caught. There was no rational reason to think you were doing anything wrong. Steve was your boyfriend and it had been agreed upon that you would go see him this morning. It was just, with the pressure of having to be the one that spoke to Steve about getting an MRI was starting to stress you out.

There wasn’t even a discernible reason why you were so nervous to do it. It wasn’t like you were going in there to attack him and you’d been there when he’d completely lost control. You weren’t telling him he couldn’t work. You were just worried about him. Even though you hadn’t known Steve at all before his kidnapping, you knew even a couple of months ago this would have been no big deal. Maybe he would have tried to reassure everyone that he was fine, but he wouldn’t get upset about it.

Now? Who could say? His mood was volatile and he’d shown that that temper could translate into violence. You were sure he wouldn’t be violent to any of you, but that didn’t mean he would take it well.

You reached the door and took a breath before knocking.

It took a moment before the door was pulled open, and rather than Steve, you came face to face with Sharon. She was still in her nightgown, a short satin number in pale gray with cherry blossom branches printed on it, and a white satin robe that was hanging open.

“Hey, babe,” she said and kissed your cheek, opening the door to let you in. “You’re up and around early.”

“I wanted to catch Steve before he went for a run,” you said.

She laughed, “You would normally have had to get up a lot earlier to do that,” she said. “That man is pathological. He’s usually out there before the sun. But, we managed to convince him to stay in today. You know -” she lowered her voice to a near whisper - “after what happened. Is that why you’re here?”

“Yeah, I guess you can say that,” you said as she closed the door behind you.

She took your hand and looked into your eyes. “How are you doing?”

You shrugged. “I’m okay. It was pretty scary seeing him like that, but I’m used to combat. I’m just worried about Steve.”

“I think we all are,” she whispered. She shook herself off and gestured down to the bedroom. “We haven’t gotten up yet, so he’s down there. We were just thinking about ordering breakfast.”

She led you down to the bedroom. The door was ajar and both Steve and Bucky were lying in the king-sized bed. The blankets were a complete mess, most of them hanging on the floor, and the very corner was hanging off Bucky’s ankle. Bucky was laying on his stomach with his arm draped over Steve’s thighs and his head on his stomach, while Steve sat up against the bed head, his fingers moving back and forth through Bucky’s hair. The sight of them both was both a relief and a turn-on.

Steve smiled when you entered. It was a hungry smile like your presence had unlocked a whole door of sexual potential for him. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

Bucky raised his head to look at you. “Hey, darlin’,” he said, his smile much softer and more welcoming.

“It’s Sunday,” you said. “I thought I’d come and hang out.”

Steve raised an eyebrow as he looked you over. “You’re wearing way too much clothing to hang out where we are,” he said.

You laughed and shook your head. This might get Steve into a better mood, but you didn’t want to comply straight away. “Oh really?” you said. “This has a maximum clothing limit?”

“Mm-hmm,” Steve said. “That number is none.”

“But Sharon has clothes on,” you argued.

“She needs to take them off too,” Steve said. “Maybe the two of you can help each other out.”

You turned and looked at Sharon, she was wearing the same bemused expression you were and the two of you burst into laughter. Sharon looked back over at Steve. “If you want us to put on a strip show for you, you could at least ask nicely,” Sharon said.

Steve looked her up and down, his tongue grazing over his bottom lip. It looked like he was weighing up all his options right now. Sharon folded her arms and raised her eyebrow at him. Bucky rolled and looked up at you both with what could only be described as puppy dog eyes. “Please. I wanna see you do a strip show.”

You and Sharon stifled laughter again. She looked over at you, her eyebrow still raised quizzically. You shrugged. “I’m okay with it.”

“Who can say no to that face,” she agreed. “FRIDAY, a little music please.”

‘Slow Like Honey’ by Fiona Apple started up. The slow jazz piano started up and you and Sharon began to dance. It was an interesting choice, slow and sensual, but better suited to a romantic slow dance than a strip tease.

You and Sharon turned to face each other, you were so close, that you could feel the heat of her body radiating off her. The two of you began to move together, slowly swaying your hips so you were mirroring each other. You rested your forehead against hers and slid your hands around her waist, pushing the robe back.

Sharon’s hands moved up under your shirt, pushing it up and exposing your skin to Bucky and Steve. Your hands moved to her shoulders and you began to slide her robe off, never breaking the kiss. It was slow and deep, matching the rhythm of the music. You lost yourself in it, Steve and Bucky may as well not have been there at all as Sharon’s hands moved up, bunching your shirt up with it.

You broke the kiss just long enough to pull your shirt up over your head and immediately you were kissing again as the fabric fluttered to the floor. Each swivel of your hips, each touch, each fast of her skin, added to the feeling that this was just the two of you locked in a sensual dance and not a show.

Your bra was the next to go, slithering off your arms and onto the floor. You moved to her nightgown next, sliding your hands over the slippery surface of the fabric before you pushed the straps down, your palms ghosting down her arms in their wake. She rolled her hips slowly as the fabric caught and it slipped free and fell to the ground around her feet.

Sharon stepped out of the pool of clothing around her feet and danced around you, her hands ghosting over your skin as she moved in behind you, pressing her body against yours. Her breath was hot against your neck and you leaned your head back and ran your hands down your body, sliding them down to your pants. You unfastened the fly and Sharon slowly pushed them and your panties down as you swayed your hips from side to side.

Steve and Bucky were watching on completely wrapped in the performance. They were both sitting up, leaning forward slightly, their hands wrapped around their cocks and pumping them slowly. Steve’s eyes were so blown out with lust they almost looked pitch black. Bucky moved forward and offered you his hand. “Come here,” he said.

You took his hand, and let him pull you away from Sharon and into his lap. You straddled him and pushed your hands into his hair as he pulled you down into a passionate kiss. As the two of you kissed, Sharon crawled up the bed to Steve.

You positioned yourself on Bucky’s lap so his cock sat snug between the lips of your pussy and you started to grind on his shaft the way you might if you were riding your vibrator. You moaned as your slick coated his cock. You were already worked up from the strip teased, you were already soaking, so each roll of your hips was sending shivers running right through you. The head of his cock was rubbing on your clit just right and you jerked your hips quickly trying to bring yourself right to the edge.

Beside you, Steve had pushed Sharon onto her back and was fucking her roughly with two fingers as he held her hands pinned over her head. She moaned and writhed under him and you wondered if she was going to reach her first orgasm before anyone else was even close.

Bucky flipped you over suddenly, so you were on your back and he was on top of you. He looked down into your eyes with a smile. “God, I want to be inside you so bad,” he said as he continued to rub his cock against your pussy.

“What are you waiting for?” you asked.

He kissed you passionately and pulled your legs up so they were pressed against his sides. When he broke the kiss he got up on his knees, put your legs on his shoulders, and thrust hard into you.

You cried out and arched your back, grabbing his wrists as he thrust into you. “Fuck, Bucky,” you moaned. “You’re so big.”

“Mmm… but look at you, you take it so well,” he praised.

Steve picked up Sharon and put her on all fours so she was over your face. He got on his knees behind her and you watched as his cock shoved deep into her. Sharon cried out and braced her hands on the blankets by your head as Steve started thrusting into her at an almost brutal pace. You leaned up and began to suckle on her clit and she let out such a loud moan, that it drowned out almost every other sound in the room.

Bucky grabbed your hips and dragged you around so you were in line with Sharon. It seemed to take her a moment to realize what had happened, but when it seemed to click into place she braced her hand on your thigh and dropped her head down and started licking at your clit.

The world outside completely disappeared. Any concerns or worries you might have had about fitting in, juggling your relationship with work, coming out, or Steve were pushed out of your head and you were reduced down to this pinprick of a moment where pleasure swirled through you, overwhelming all your senses.

The room echoed with the sounds of body slapping against body, moans, grunts, and gasps of pleasure. The scent of Sharon’s arousal filled your nose as your tongue was coated with her slick with each lap of your tongue. You were transfixed at the sight of Steve’s cock stretching Sharon out above you as he pounded into you. Yet even as all those senses were being battered they were completely dwarfed by the feeling of Sharon’s lips tugging on your clit as Bucky plunged his cock into again and again.

You were sent hurtling to the precipice of your orgasm and sent careening over just as fast, your whole body stiffening under Sharon as it tore through you. It left you dazed for a moment, just staring ahead blankly as Bucky used you and you watched the mirrored movement of Steve’s cock slamming into Sharon above your face. As soon as you leaned up and pulled her clit back into your mouth, Sharon’s orgasm hit too. Your face was showered in her slick as Steve shoved in deep, sending droplets out in a fine spray. Sharon cried out loudly and her fingers dug into your thigh.

Neither Steve nor Bucky were even close to being done with either of you. They both began to fuck you harder, the sounds now becoming wetter and sharper as they thrust their hips. You and Sharon came again and again until you weren’t sure where one orgasm ended and the next began. You and Sharon both stopped even being able to use your mouths on each other. You fell back, your eyes rolling back into your head as Sharon let her head rest on your thigh. Each time you or Sharon came, Bucky and Steve picked up the pace so they were just railing into you both, sending jolt after jolt spiking through your bodies.

All sense of time had been lost on you and you just started to beg, chanting the word ‘please,’ over and over.

Bucky’s orgasm hit first, he thrust hard into you, grinding his hips as he released inside of you. You were so swollen and sensitive that you could feel each pulse of his cock as he filled you.

Steve wasn’t too far behind, he pulled out of Sharon, sending another spray of her juices over your face, and with three pumps of his cock he released, thick ropes of come splattering on Sharon’s pussy, and your face and breasts.

“Fuck…” he groaned and flopped back onto the bed, breathing heavily. Bucky helped you and Sharon move before he lay down himself and the four of you just lay there panting, completely and utterly fucked out.

You weren’t sure how long the four of you just lay there riding out your respective orgasm highs, but it was Bucky that got up first. He went to the bathroom and returned with a couple of damp washcloths, and began to clean both you and Sharon up. Steve grabbed his phone from the nightstand and looked at the three of you. “Breakfast?” he asked.

When the food had arrived and the four of you were set up, using Steve’s bed as if it was a picnic rug, you decided to broach the topic of Steve having an MRI and CT scan.

“Steve, about what happened on the mission…” you said.

Steve sighed and picked up his coffee. “I know… I wasn’t myself. I’m working on it.”

“Well,” you said, trying to keep your tone gentle. “About that part. Maybe you should get a scan. You know, an MRI or a CT, or both? You said that they did something to you. Maybe it’ll show up.”

“I’m sure it’s just trauma,” he said. “I’m seeing the therapist.”

Sharon sat up and put her hand on his arm and seemed to be very careful about each word she chose. “You did say they did something to you,” she said. “That they put something into your eye. An MRI couldn’t hurt. Maybe you should have one to rule it out.”

His brows knitted together and his jaw clenched tight, twitching at the corner. “Have you all been plotting this behind my back? I must be really bad, huh? I can’t even deal with my trauma the way I want.”

“It hasn’t been like that,” Bucky said. “We haven’t been planning anything. But we are all worried about you. This is a good idea. In the worst-case scenario, they find nothing and you just have to sit in a tube for a bit. I used to be in tubes all the time. Best case and they do find something and we do something about it.”

Steve huffed out through his nose. “Fine,” he said. “Tomorrow. Is that okay with all of you? That I just have one day without people poking and prodding at me?”

“Of course it’s okay,” Sharon said. “I’ll let the medbay know what’s going on.”

Everyone fell silent for a little while before returning to eating and chatting like nothing had happened. It was clear that Steve was still angry about the idea, and you hoped that he’d actually go.

// NEXT

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

Text

New Girl [00]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

(slow burn, endgame, as in you’ll be seeing some short term pairings here and then as well)

MODERN DAY AU

Word count: 1,564

Summary: Life threw you a curve ball when you walked in on your long term boyfriend making out with someone who definitely wasn’t you. Since living with him was no longer an option, you’ve ventured out at the advice of a work friend and found the absolute perfect loft to reside in. The only issue?

You suddenly have four very odd roommates.

a/n: a long time ago i mentally cast jensen ackles as disaster clint barton in my head and have not shook it since which is why his picture is used above👍🏼

[00]: WELCOME HOME

Chapter Summary: You find a new place to live. Your friend mentioned all the amenities, but left out a very important detail.

The loft was absolutely gorgeous. It had an industrial feel to it thanks to the brick walls and metal beams running across the ceiling. Despite that, the warm light streaming through the multitude of windows gave it a soft vibe. From where you sat on the recliner you could see a small, open kitchen that sat right across from a large dining area all of which was behind the large, ‘u-shaped’ couch. Honestly, the moment you stepped through the door your brain immediately decided that this is where you wanted to live.

However, there was one little flaw you didn’t foresee when you showed up for the interview/tour.

“So, you guys…are guys.” You said slowly. You laced your fingers together and rested them on your knee awkwardly. In front of you sat four men. Very manly men, actually. Enough so that you weren’t sure why your co-worker would think sending you here to live would be a good idea. Scott Lang had mentioned the open room and the great location, but he had left out this huge detail.

“Yes. Good eye for detail.” The man who introduced himself as Bucky Barnes said dryly. He sat at the far end of the couch in front of you on the left side. He had short, dark hair that kind of looked like he had just rolled out of bed. Sweatpants, a t-shirt, and scruff all along his defined jaw. His stormy eyes looked exhausted, his lips looked downturned into a perpetual frown, and it made you mildly curious since it was literally one in the afternoon and he was nearly dead on his feet.

“I know it’s hard for you to not be a dick, but maybe you can, I don’t know, try?” Sam Wilson, if you remembered his name correctly, replied to him from the entire other end of the couch. The black man had his arms crossed over his chest with a raised eyebrow, but there was nothing but amusement in his brown eyes. Unlike the first man that spoke, this one was dressed in much nicer clothes. A button up shirt and khakis.

You opened your mouth to cut in, but another one of them spoke up first. He sat next to the man who had just spoken, “Quick question, are you single?” You knew his name was Peter but you couldn’t remember what his last name was only that it started with a ‘Q’. He had an impish smirk with sandy blond hair that could only be described as purposely messy. He had a sort of goatee that was mostly just stubble. There was a leather jacket resting on the couch behind him that he had taken off when you first walked in to reveal the tight, gray shirt he wore. “I think it’s the question all of us want answered, right?”

All the men chorused solid disagreements, but it was the man beside him that spoke directly to you. This was the only one who hadn’t actually introduced himself to you. He had come in a couple minutes ago, dropped down on the couch, and then just joined in. You had mentally been referring to him as ‘hot mess’. He had like three bandages on his face, his lip was busted, and he had a fading black eye. His blond hair was also messy, but definitely not in a styled way. More like a ‘I haven’t touched a comb since I was 12’ kind of way. He motioned to you, “Ignore him, the real question we have for you is: Do you have any pets and when can you move in?”

“No.” Bucky shook his head. “We vote before we ask someone to move in. Loft agreement.”

Hot mess spoke again, “Well then let’s—”

“Wait,” You held one hand out and eyes snapped back to you. “Scott told me this was a four-bedroom place, and that you guys were looking for someone to fill a room but…there are already four of you?”

Peter half-heartedly motioned to Bucky and Sam, “These two share a room.”

“Oh!” You bobbed your head with a smile as you motioned to them, “So you guys are a couple?”

“No!” Bucky and Sam both yelled loudly making you jump in shock. They immediately turned and began to bicker with one another.

“Why’re you saying no so fast, man?? I’m a fucking catch.” Sam argued.

“You said no just as quick as I did!”

“Yeah, because I can do a hell of a lot better than a maybe alcoholic still mourning the loss of his psycho ex.”

Bucky sat forward to glare at him, “We are not having this argument again.”

As they continued to yell at one another, while you watched on awkwardly, Peter focused on you with a charming smirk, “They have bunk beds.”

“Bunk… beds?” You questioned skeptically.

“No, no, no.” Sam cut in quickly. He gave up on his argument with Bucky to clarify this. “It’s two very separate beds, on opposite sides of the room. See, I lost a bet so now I’m stuck with his ass—”

“You lost the bet? I lost the bet and now I’m stuck with you.” Bucky argued back.

Hot mess shook his head, “They both lost the bet and now they bunk together like camp buddies.” The two men in question grumbled unhappily. “Also, we’re all super broke so we need someone in the empty room who has a consistent paycheck.” As if to clarify further, he pointed down the couch starting with Bucky, “Bartender at a sketch ass place, in an unknown band, and therapist.”

Sam held one hand up, “I’m the only one with an actual paycheck.”

“I have a paycheck!” Bucky argued.

“And my band is not unknown.” Peter scoffed. “The Guardians have a gig this Thursday!”

Hot mess grinned, “And where are you playing?”

“A Korean restaurant where old men play card game and chain smoke.” Peter mumbled.

You cleared your throat and tried to get this conversation back on track, “You didn’t tell me what your job is. Or your name.”

“Oh, I’m Clint Barton!” He quickly stood up and offered his hand to you. You smiled and took his hand to shake it then he sat back down. “And my job changes depending on the week.”

You bobbed your head once with confused, narrowed eyes, “I, uh, I don’t know what that means.”

Bucky shook his own head, “Neither do we.”

“Well,” You took in a steadying breath, “Like I said before, my name is [Y/N]. And, I actually do have a steady paycheck.” You motioned to yourself. “I work for a modeling agency—”

“Whoa, whoa!” Peter threw his arms out to interrupt, “You’re a model??”

“Uh, no.” You chuckled awkwardly. “I’m more like a manager? Book gigs, manage contracts, help them on set…” There was a pause where they all just stared at you with blank looks. Peter was the only one actively gawking though. You filled the silence with the first thing your brain thought of, “It’s fun! My best friend from high school actually works there as a model so it’s a lot of us just…goofing off? Uh… I don’t have any pets—”

“Meeting!” Peter barked and stood up. He gave you a charismatic smile, “Just give us a couple minutes.” The others stood up with less enthusiasm and began to march out of the room, down the hall. Peter gave you a nod, briefly biting down on his lower lip, bounced his eyebrows up once, then winked at you, “Don’t miss me too much, alright baby?”

Bucky stopped at the mouth of the hall with a frown, and when Peter tried to walk into the hallway he threw his hand out to stop him. Peter complained as Bucky shoved him back then pointed to the short shelf sitting behind the couch. There was a glass jar sitting on it with a pink sticky note taped to the outside that read, ‘Douchebag Jar’ in messy handwriting.

“Jar. Now.”

“That wasn’t even so bad!” Peter argued before pulling a dollar bill out of his pocket and shoving it into the jar. The two of them left to wherever the other two had and suddenly you were left alone in the pretty apartment. Without the yelling boys, the loft became more and more tempting.

You drummed your fingers against your thighs nervously. This was a weird situation and at your age you weren’t really looking to live in a loft downtown with four strange men, emphasis on strange, but you didn’t really have another choice. Your job paid well, but you had lost a lot of money after buying a house with your long-term boyfriend. It seemed like a great idea at the time considering the two of you were coming up on three years together, but when you walked in on him making out with a girl sitting in his lap the great idea died really fast. You didn’t get that money back and honestly you didn’t even try to get possession of the house. You just wanted to be out of his life. Regardless of the cost.

Clint ‘hot mess’ Barton suddenly slid back into the room on his socks making you jump in surprise. He threw his hand out broadly as the others came in as well, “Welcome home, roomie!”

You jumped up in excitement, “Really? You guys aren’t going to regret this!”

#avengers #mcu #marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes is nick miller #you can't convince me otherwise #sam wilson #clint barton #peter quill #reader #female reader #reader insert #modern au

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shewhohangsoutincemeteries · 2 months

Text

to ashes, ultimatum

Clint Barton x F!Reader

To Ashes, Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Summary: it's time for you and clint to face the music. and each other.

Warnings: angst, fluff.

Word Count: 2,718

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prologue - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30 -31 - 32 - 33 - 34

Days Since the Decimation: Three Years, Sixty-Four Days

Early afternoon sunlight urged your eyelids to part, and you woke reluctantly, cocooned comfortably in the sheets. Your body ached pleasantly as you stirred, and heat rose in your cheeks as the night before came back to you. Squeezing your thighs together briefly, you finally opened your eyes properly. The warmth in your face increased as your gaze focused on the expanse of Clint’s thigh, the tanned skin only interrupted by the dark cotton of his boxer briefs.

He was sitting up against the headboard, his chest still bare, his hand wrapped around the coffee cup balanced on the thigh closest to you. The scent of it teased at your sleep-addled senses, and you groaned softly. His gaze had been fixed blankly across the room, a furrow between his brows, but at your stirring he turned his attention towards you.

“You’re awake.”

“Looks that way,” you mumbled, your voice rough from the night before.

It was so worn after what you’d done only hours ago, and the memory of your eyes rolling back as Clint’s mouth had found the side of your neck made butterflies rise in your stomach. His mouth on your throat had meant that he’d felt your moan build before it even escaped you, and his teeth had grazed over your pulse point. Even then, the sound had been hoarse, torn and desperate as his hands had tightened on your waist and his cock had filled you again.

You cleared your throat in an attempt to both improve your voice and draw your own attention back from what you’d done the night before. “…And you’re still here.”

You regretted the words as soon as you said them, but a self-deprecating smirk touched Clint’s lips. “Yeah.”

Face still tucked against the pillow, you nodded towards the mug in his hand. “Is there any more of that?”

“Behind you.”

You rubbed at your eye, holding the sheet against your chest as you rolled over to find another mug sitting on the bedside table. Smiling, you pushed yourself up as you picked it up, leaning on your elbow as you turned back to him and took a grateful sip.

And immediately grimaced. “It’s cold.”

“Yep,” he replied simply, taking your cup and setting both his and yours on the table on his side of the bed. “But it was a nice gesture about half an hour ago.”

You breathed a quiet laugh through your nose, playing with the edge of the blanket as you lay back against the pillows again. Somehow, despite his attention being in his lap, the light of day had you feeling much more exposed than before. “So, uh… how long exactly have you been awake?”

Clint shrugged a shoulder noncommittedly. His hair was still mussed – from sleep and the way you’d carded your fingers through it – and you swallowed as you noticed the red lines marking his shoulders and arms. “A while.”

“Clint.” you said guardedly. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Hmm? Yeah.” he nodded distractedly. His tone sounded light but you could hear the way he forced it. His hand moved towards you for a moment as though he was about to touch yours reassuringly, but it returned to his lap. Clint’s voice dropped further, and the tired note in his tone had nothing to do with how much sleep he’d missed. “Yeah. ‘Course I did.”

You sighed heavily at his tone, sitting up and turning your back to him. “Right.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m not doing this again, Clint.” you said, shaking your head and turning your eyes to the ceiling. “I can’t do this again.”

“I…” Clint pushed himself up straighter against the headboard, his brow furrowed as he searched for a response.

You pressed your lips together, closing your eyes as you forced back the nerves climbing in your chest. Your tone turned gentle but firm. “I know what you’re going through, Barton. I know it’s something I… that I can’t even pretend to understand. And while I’m here for you, I really, truly am… I can’t do this.”

You picked up the first shirt within reach – his – and pulled it over your head before turning around to face him. The worn, thin cotton did next to nothing to build your confidence, but it was easier to get the words out while not completely naked. Still, you felt goosebumps rise on your exposed skin as you met his eye.

God, you’d left a hickey on the side of his neck.

“I can’t be doing… this—” you gestured to the mess of sheets between you. “—with someone when they’re not here with me.”

There was something unreadable in his eyes. “I am—”

“You’re not, though.” you said, resigned. “You’re really not.”

He stopped, swallowing as his eyes fell towards the mattress. When you’d turned to face him, you’d leaned on your hand, your fingers curled in the sheets a few inches from his own. Maybe you saw his hand move forward… maybe… but you stood, stepping back away from the bed before his hand could make contact with yours.

You met his eyes, teeth digging into your bottom lip. His shirt barely brushed against your thighs, a scare inch or so of thin fabric protecting your modesty. You really should have waited to have this conversation until after you’d put on pants. “Yeah, maybe you stayed this time, but… did you really want to?”

Clint’s gaze remained on his hand, and you sighed, rounding the bed towards the bathroom.

“I did.”

You stopped mid-step, folding your arms around your middle.

“I…” Clint exhaled. “I wanted to… I want…”

You heard him shift on the mattress, and you turned around as he swung his legs off the side of it. He ran a hand through his hair, fingers fisting in at the nape of his neck for a moment before his hand fell back to his lap.

“I felt… I feel guilty. Being with you.” he explained, his voice quiet. He waved a hand back towards the sheets. “Being with you like this. It’s like I’m… betraying Laura.”

“Clint…” you couldn’t bring yourself to say the rest of the sentence.

She’s gone.

“I know,” he said, swallowing thickly. You watched his adam’s apple bob in his throat. “I know she’s… but it’s not just that it feels like cheating, it’s…” he met your eye again, and you almost broke in your resolve. “When I’m with you… when I’m close to you, I… I don’t feel so bad.”

“And that’s…?”

“It’s wrong, Y/N.” he sighed, his gaze falling again. Like looking at you was… tempting? Painful? “And I can’t feel that way. I can’t forget them like that.”

You closed your eyes and exhaled slowly before moving towards him again. Kneeling in front of him, you forced him to meet your eye again You wanted to touch his cheek, but you felt your hand shake. Instead, you reached out to where his hands were clasped tightly together in his lap, covering them both with your palm.

“I understand, Clint.” you said softly. “I do. But I can’t keep doing this if all it is is a moment of weakness for you. I can’t be something you regret.”

“…Are you leaving?”

You shook your head, withdrawing your hand. “No. I’m not leaving. But I’m taking this – what we did, what we’ve been doing – off the table. I’m putting distance back between us. No more blurred lines – it’s confusing for both of us. If you can find a way for you to…” you stood, taking a step back. “Until you can let yourself feel whatever you’re feeling for me without… I’ll keep my distance, okay?”

There was a long moment between you as your words sunk in, but finally, Clint nodded.

“Okay.” you forced a small smile onto your face. “I’m going… I need a shower. Don’t disappear, okay?”

He nodded again, and you could feel his eyes on you as you finally retreated to the safety of the adjacent room.

As soon as the door was closed, you leaned back against it, closing your eyes. This was the right decision. It was. But a very loud part of you was screaming at you to turn around and tell him that you were taking it back.

The mirror hung on the wall opposite you, and your gaze lingered on the litany of evidence of your night together. The mussed hair, the light pattern of bruises on the side of your neck that continued down beneath his shirt. His shirt…

“Fuck…” you muttered to yourself, pulling it off and tossing it aside. Your eyes caught the mark he’d left on the swell of your left breast and you turned away, slamming the handle for hot water as far as it would go.

This was the right decision.

Right?

***

The tension in the apartment was heavy when you’d finally pulled yourself away from the shower’s scalding spray, but Clint had mercifully vacated your bedroom by the time you’d come back out. You’d tried to pull on the first clothes you could find, wincing as the burn on your back pulled against your skin. You should have asked Clint to re-dress it, but apparently, you’d used up all your confidence before you’d showered. So, instead you’d spent twenty minutes haphazardly taping a new patch of gauze over the burn with your back to the mirror and found a tank top that was cut low enough the back to not snag any of the tape you might not have reached to push down against your skin.

You’d tried to ignore the clothes still scattered across the carpet in your room, ignore the scent of sex still clinging to the mess of sheets. You stripped them from the mattress, tossing them into the corner and sat down, taking a shuddering breath.

Well… fuck.

You’d given him an ultimatum.

Just how quickly was it going to come around and bite you in the ass?

You’d left the apartment with the claim that you needed to pick up more supplies; Clint had nodded, his back to you as he poured himself a fresh cup of coffee. “Okay.”

That had been four hours ago, and all you had to show for your time gone was a paltry bag of medical supplies and a couple of sandwiches from a nearby gas station. Sighing heavily, you unlocked the door, the hooks of expectation digging deeper into your flesh as you were suddenly sure that you’d find him gone.

Again.

The apartment was much in the same state in which you’d left it, and you felt something in you release as you saw Clint’s gear still propped up near the kitchen counter. Your shoulders loosened, and you ran a hand through your hair. He was still here.

You barely made it a few more steps before a noise suddenly came from behind the wood of his bedroom door; the muffled sound of something shattering and a pained groan. The bag fell from your fingertips immediately, and you summoned a sphere of psychokinetic energy to burn against the palm of your hand.

“Clint?”

Your voice came too softly, and you cleared your throat as you approached his door, the energy in your hand swelling to the size of a baseball.

“Clint?”

“Y/N…” the response was quiet and strained, a low groan, and anxiety sunk its talons further between your ribs. Sparks danced down over your wrist, your other hand clutching the door handle and pushing it slowly open.

The room was dim, curtains drawn against what was left of the early evening light; your eyes adjusted quickly, and you released the energy with a sigh despite the worry still knitting your brow. Clint was in bed, sheets tangled around his legs and a lamp broken on the hardwood floor beside him, a casualty from the bedside table.

He whimpered, turning in his sleep, his brow furrowed and his hand fisting in the sheet. Frowning, you hurried to his side, reaching out to touch his shoulder as he rolled towards you.

“Clin—”

You broke off suddenly as Clint’s eyes snapped open, his hand grabbing your outstretched arm by the wrist in a painfully tight grip. His other hand moved so quickly you barely saw it, a knife clutched in his fist. You reacted in the same moment, a shield expanding in front of your chest just before the tip of the blade could meet your throat.

Clint blinked, the remnants of sleep slowly clearing from his eyes. The two of you stayed frozen in that tableau, the blue light of your shield casting shadows over the two of you as though you were suspended in water. The archer swallowed heavily, his grip on your wrist easing incrementally.

“Clint?” you repeated softly, twisting your wrist in his hand to touch gentle fingers to his arm. The sensation seemed to bring him back to the surface, drag himself out of where ever his mind had taken him, and you reduced the shield as the knife was lowered back to the mattress. “You with me?”

He nodded slowly, finally releasing your wrist. A dull ache thrummed through it, but you ignored it, kneeling beside the bed and reaching out to carefully ease the knife out of his hand. He let you, his fingers warm against your own before you set the blade on the bedside table.

“You were dreaming,” you explained softly, watching him run a hand through his hair, propping himself up on his other arm. “I didn’t… I didn’t know you were still having dreams like that.”

“Yeah…” he muttered; his voice rough. “It’s easier to keep them to myself when we’re not sharing a Winnebago.”

You frowned, hesitating a moment before reaching up to smooth your hand over his cheek. Clint’s eyes closed briefly at the touch. His hand moved upward, as though to cover yours, but it retreated, curling in the sheets.

“What can I do?”

Clint shook his head, pulling away from your touch. “’m fine.”

“I’m starting to think we should get that tattooed on our foreheads,” you muttered to yourself, noticing the corner of Clint’s lips twitch into a momentary smile. It was tiny, then it was gone. “How much sleep did you actually get last night, Clint?”

He cleared his throat, rubbing his hand over his bare chest. “I don’t know… a couple of hours, maybe.”

You frowned, studying his face, the shadows under his eyes.

“Move over.”

His expression unreadable, Clint did as you asked, pushing himself back on the mattress to make space for you. You straightened, toeing off your boots and shrugging off your jacket before lowering yourself onto the mattress beside him. The bedframe creaked softly under the new weight, and Clint watched you with a kind of careful curiosity as you tried to find a position to settle in.

You finally came to rest stretched out on your side beside him, your face pressed against the pillow. You tried to ignore the way the bed smelled of him. Clint didn’t need to ask what you intended, but he hesitated before moving to mirror your position. He watched your expression with those clever eyes for a long, weighted moment before he moved, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. Warmth rose in your cheeks as he settled his head against your chest, his arm moving down to instead wind around your thighs, banding just below the curve of your backside. His fingers curled against the small of your back. You wrapped an arm around him, trying not to let your mind linger on the warmth of his skin beneath your hand.

“Doesn’t this… what we’re doing right now…” Clint began quietly, as though unwilling to continue the sentence. The warmth of his breath tickled against the base of your throat. “…Doesn’t this violate the whole ‘distance’ rule you put in this morning?”

Your other hand rose to run fingers through his hair carefully, fingertips grazing the nape of his neck. He sighed under your touch. “Will this help you?”

He nodded; his face still buried against your chest. “Yeah… Yeah, it will.”

You swallowed, forcing yourself to close your eyes and relax. “Then it’s okay.”

tags:@trekkingaroundasgard@lovely-dreamer19@wittyforachange@wefracturedmotivation@january-echoes@glossyloner@capitalnineteen@youclickedthislink@s0ftness@castieltrash1@drakelover78@queenoftheunderdark@lol-you-thought@akumune@xxboesefrauxx@enna-core@hearmyharmony@katsies@youralphawolf72@maenji@rhymesmenagerie@gwianasky@melaclintbartoncorner@loki-is-loved@whovianayesha@bradfordbantams@alice-the-nerd@fanofallthefics@ace-fandom-dumbass@kaelyn-lobrutto24@twsssmlmaa@earth-pig-fish@meeksmusic83@hallothankmas@justanothermagicalsara@janineb86@darsynia@rhymesmenagerie @thatwelshbi @lauraashley93@darkwhisperswolf

AN: I know I'm a heartless bitch, but I promise they're not done with each other yet.

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fairyrosepetals · 1 year

Text

💌Super-powered Valentine💌

Part 1, Part 2

- TW warning: Slight suggestiveness!

⭐️Steve Rogers⭐️:

We all know this man is old-fashioned, I mean he was literally born in 1918, today’s dating culture still throws him for a loop! 😵‍💫

If you’re seeing this man, make no mistake that he’ll be the one to make the first move. He’d do his best not to stumble over his words and try not to make a fool of himself, but if he’s already madly in love? Forget it

You’ll watch him get pink in the face as he stutters and mumbles, avoiding your concerned gaze as he prays the floor beneath him would swallow him whole. Despite women throwing themselves at his feet, it never was like that when he was skinny and small. The positive attention you give him is something he definitely has to get used to.

Dating this man would involve him bringing you flowers very often! Once the first bouquet died, that was his signal to go out and get you a new one 💐

He will spend so much time rearranging the flowers, determined to gift you the most beautiful bouquets money can buy. When he gifts them to you, he has the biggest smile on his face when you take the flowers from him, happy to know he made you smile!

When Valentine’s Day rolls around, his date ideas definitely make his old dating culture stand out more to you.

As mentioned before, he’d definitely gift you flowers, the classic bouquet of roses and heart box of chocolates. What can I say? It’s a classic Don’t fix it if it’s not broken.

HOWEVER. If you’re against most cliche or overdone Valentine’s Day gifts, don’t worry, Steve’s got you covered. Whether it be that perfume/cologne you were eyeing a few days back, an outfit you’ve been dying to buy for yourself, or maybe something related to a hobby of yours, he’s definitely been paying attention.

He’d never want you disappointed in the gifts he gives you, always making sure you’d love them and that they’re special to you. Even if you aren’t much of a gift person, he still wants to find some sort of way to show his love and devotion to you.

He’d definitely take you to a dance hall if there are still some around. You two would both be laughing and smiling as Steve spun you around, keeping your body close to him as he dipped and held you. The music that was so familiar and dear to him made you feel like you could dance for hours, holding him close as a slow song played. The two of you gently swaying to the music in each other’s arms.

Movie drive-in dates are definitely another date idea of his. Bucky had certainly been on his own fair share of drive-in dates and made sure to tell his best friend every detail about them. While it embarrassed him to learn that many couples didn’t actually go to the drive-ins to watch the movie, it was something he still wanted to do with you.

He loves being able to hold you close, a blanket shared between you two as you snuggled up to watch the movie. If it’s a horror movie, even better! It would just give him an excuse to hold you tight as you cling to him for safety.

And also try the classic yawn-and-stretch trick

Steve Rogers absolutely adores his SO, sending them tender looks their way, holding their face in his hands, gifting things that reminded him of them, and Valentine’s Day is just another excuse to spoil you silly.

🔧Tony Stark🔧:

Unlike Steve, Tony is definitely not old fashioned.

When you’re dating the famous genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, extravagant gifts and dates are definitely not a problem for this man.

When it comes to pursuing you, like most people, you may be irritated of his cocky attitude. Especially if he can’t take the hint.

Over time, he’ll get it and back off, the both of you starting over as you begin to see his true colors. Despite the constant sarcasm and his massive ego always showing, he’s grown to be a sweetheart after taking up the mantle of “Iron-Man”

With Tony’s anxiety, it may be hard to do more public dates. However, he’s not opposed to taking you somewhere secluded and having an expensive dinner date with you. A beach at sun set, a candle lit dinner on the roof of his home, he just wants to be with you in peace.

He absolutely LOVES showing you off. He can get a little jealous with others trying to flirt with you, knowing that you’re definitely way out of their league. That won’t stop him from keeping you by his side during the entirety of a party or at a bar.

Definitely the type to have you on his lap, his hand on your waist as he traces patterns on your hip.

A very touchy man, Can hardly keep his hands off of you whenever you’re around.

He wouldn’t be against leaving hickies on your neck either, not being shy as he leaves them in the most hard to hide spots just to show others that you’re officially taken.

However, if you’re against touch than he gets it and he’ll respect his space even if there are times when he forgets. He doesn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable at all and will constantly remind himself not too pop your personal space bubble.

Being in a relationship with this man screams “bougie couple”, even if this is the same man willing to wear a Dora wrist watch.

When it comes to Valentine’s Day, you better believe this man will be going all out.

Expensive jewelry, clothing, perfume/cologne, hell he’d go as far as buying you a new car. He just wants to be able to spoil you and show you how much you deserve the world.

He’d love to take you to an expensive restaurant, somewhere where the both of you would get dressed up all nice and enjoy each other’s company. He’d reserve the entire building if that’s what you wanted to do.

If you seem overwhelmed by this, he’s fine with a night in too. A date with both of you in sweat pants and just lounging on the couch with a pizza is also a great date in his eyes.

Overall, Valentine’s Day with this man is very extravagant and quite expensive, but in his defense; He’s never had someone stick by him besides you, even with his snarky attitude. Tony just wants to cherish his SO and give them all the good things you deserve.

⚛️Bruce Banner⚛️:

Bruce is a total sweetheart. Depending when you two met could determine how your relationship established.

If you met him when he first joined the Avengers, be patient with him. If you show him any sort of kindness, he may become skittish, afraid of scaring you off or possibly even hurting you.

He’d be shy, wondering how someone as kind as you could be so unafraid around him. Not to mention how gentle and tender you are, even when he has the strength to snap you in two.

I think you would have to initiate first. The reason being he’s afraid of hurting the one he loves the most, and would most likely love you from a distance. He would be hesitant with starting a relationship, but Bruce wouldn’t miss this opportunity if it meant being with you.

You spending most of your time in the lab, bringing him his coffee and making sure he gets the necessary rest he needs is a common practice within your relationship. Most of the time, he really needs those breathers but gets too consumed in his work to notice.

Somehow always touching you, whether the both of you hav your pinkies linked together, or him holding onto your sleeve or your shirt, it brings him safety because of how much it grounds him. When you’re alone, he loves being able to hold you. He’s so afraid of accidentally breaking you that it’s taken a lot of convincing before he was comfortable enough to touch you.

When he’s able to hold you to his body, he just melts, immediately addicted to your hugs and just the way you treat him so gently.

When Valentine’s Day rolls around, he’s a bit inexperienced in that field. He wants to be able to show you that he appreciates all that you’ve done for him, even if it’s a little difficult for him to do so.

When it comes to Valentines Day gifts, he’s definitely a lot more simpler. He’d give you your favorite flowers in a bouquet, or even gift you a necklace or book you’ve been talking about for awhile. His gifts involve him buying something he thinks you’d adore, but still be able to use rather than the classic Valentine’s teddy bear or box of chocolates.

Date ideas are a little more reserved in nature. You both would end up having dinner-date nights inside your home, the two of you cooking together in the coziness of your home as you catch up with each other.

I can see Bruce liking the classic idea of slow dancing in the kitchen late in the night. The thought of the both of you just swaying to music, just the two of you as he holds you close to him. The feeling makes all his worries and stresses melt away from him knowing he has someone like you waiting for him at home.

Bruce just wants to love and protect his SO. While sometimes he thinks you made a mistake pursuing someone like him with his condition, over the years he begins to realize that he is just as worthy of love as anyone else. He will begin to open up more, and show his love through acts of appreciation for you supporting him through all his ups and downs.

⚡️Thor Odinson⚡️

Thor is definitely more excitable than the rest of the men in the Avengers. During the time he was still trying to understand Earth culture, the both of you made fast friends as he got used to Earth.

Teaching a God how to use the kitchen as well as the bathroom was chaotic to say the least, but he made sure to show his appreciation as much as he could when given the opportunity.

As he began to get used to Earth, he began to take notice of his feelings for you. The way you make him feel as he sees you smile, or how you throw your head back as you laugh at him for him doing something unintentionally funny. He loved seeing how happy he made you just by being himself.

Dates on Earth would be a little chaotic. Considering he is an almighty Norse God, he still has a lot to learn when it comes to human dates. Roller rinks, karaoke bars, or just going to the park for a stroll are dates Thor would happily go on with you if it meant understanding the dating culture better. It would also give him a better opportunity to understand your likes and dislikes.

Before Little Asgard, dates would be much different when Thor would take you back to his home. He would shower you in riches and all the splendors that his home has to offer, but if you take interest in something else within Asgard that isn’t as luxurious as his family riches, he is not opposed to getting you that instead or doing a more simpler date.

Thor is a very affectionate man. Similar to Bruce and Tony, he is always touching you somehow. Whether it’s more subtle like hand-holding or more obvious such as having his hand around your waist. He just loves having you near him and loves when you reciprocate his affection.

Absolutely LOVES trailing kisses on your face, whether it’d be multiple in just your cheeks or just a trail down your neck, he wants to show you that he loves and cherishes you if he’s felt he’s been neglecting you with his “work”.

When Thor finds out about Valentine’s Day for the first time, he’s a bit confused. However, upon googling what the holiday is about, he is surprised that such an old and ancient festival such as Lupercalia was still being celebrated. However, he is a little disappointed that this ancient fertility festival is no longer the same thousands of years ago.

This won’t stop Thor from treating the holiday as an excuse to try and give his love the most lavish gifts he can find. With the help of his mother, and a little bit from his brother, he was able to spoil you like the prince/princess you are on this special day.

Chocolate covered strawberries, your favorite flowers or plants, he made sure to grab all your favorite things and present them to you with a big, proud smile on his face, even if some of his gifts began to take up space within your house. While he did go a little bit overboard with his gifts, you couldn’t help but laugh and give him a kiss from how much thought he put into it.

The next Valentine’s, he now has a general understanding of how to be a good Valentine. Now opting for gifts and food that you love and enjoy rather than grabbing a gaudy Valentine’s Day gift in the aisle of Walmart.

This included dates that hold a more meaningful tone to them, rather than being influenced from the cheesy romantic comedies that are always being played around this time.

While it isn’t perfect, you won’t find anyone else who tries harder than Thor. He wants to be with you forever and always, loving you no matter what life throws at the both of you, and one day, hoping the both of you could start a family, and you becoming his King/Queen.

——————

With Valentine’s Day around the corner, I thought I’d pump something out really quick! I will be writing more characters, but for now thought Marvel would be a good start!

Feel free to take a look at my fandoms list and make any requests for any of your favorite fandoms!

❤️

#the avengers #marvel #reader insert #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #steve rodgers x reader #tony stark x reader #bruce banner x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #clint barton x reader #thor odinson x reader #valentine’s day #writing #fanfiction #avengers fluff #marvel fandom

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unholyhelbig · 2 months

Note

Your Oversight story is so amazing, I’m obsessed truly. I need some domestic fluff with Nat, reader, and Ronnie. Like making cookies for Ronnie’s class or something!!! Thank you for feeding my mafia boss obsession!

Title: Little Marksman [An Oversight Oneshot]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Natasha's mother makes an impromtu visit to the United States, sending Natasha and Yelena into a sprial about how their mother will react to their partners.

Warnings(PLEASE READ): None, I think, just fluff!, and horrible grammar

[a/n: This isn't exactly the fluff you requested, but I think it's pretty fluffy! Thank you all for the oversight requests, I promise, I'll get to them soon!]

Check out the full Oversight universe

Natasha Romanoff did not often allow herself to indulge in the simple things. Sleeping in had long been a thing of the past, she’d spring up at the first chirp of an alarm and spend her mornings in a ritual of freshly pressed coffee, a long run that would coat her in a sheen of sweat, and then finally sitting down to attend to the boring side of business.

That, of course, had changed when she welcomed you into her life. You were decidedly not a morning person and would grumble until you found her alarm clock in the dark, shutting it off and pinning Natasha down with your dead weight as you fell back into a deep slumber. She hadn’t the heart to move you.

Then, when Veronica had gotten her own room there were some nights when Natasha would stir from her vigilant sleep. She’d startle, really. Your daughter was mostly silent during the day and happened to be worse at night. She would stand at the bottom of the bed, contemplating waking you.

It only ever bothered you after you watched the ring for the first time. After that, you would sense her presence and it seemed like Natasha was the same. She sat up and blinked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Hi baby,” Natasha croaked, “are you alright?”

Natasha saw the silhouette of Ronnie shake her head and the woman looked sparingly at you. Light breathes escaped you, dead to the world. She heard the little word, barely a whisper. “Nightmare.”

It tugged at Natasha’s heart to the point where it was almost painful. She wanted to wrap her up that first night, pull her close until she wasn’t afraid of whatever had plagued her in her dreams. Tentatively, she scooted to the far side of the mattress and patted the space she’d created between the both of you.

Veronica snuggled under the blankets, shivering as her cold began to ebb away. Natasha felt stiff for a moment, lying on her back. She could feel your daughter’s body heat against her, and made the conscious choice not to move closer.

“You can talk about it, if you want.” She eventually whispered. “I’m here to listen, Ronnie, malen'kiy strelok.”

Little Marksman. Her father used to call Natasha the same, despite her not being the greatest shot. But, she was better than Yelena and that’s all the mattered at the moment. The term of endearment rolled off her tongue like honey and shocked her in the process.

Veronica didn’t say anything, she often didn’t, but she wrapped her tiny, strong arms around Natasha’s arm and buried her cheek into her, reveling in the close contact. She softened instantly and found herself staying awake until Ronnie’s breath evened out.

Neither her alarm, nor Ronnie stirred her this particular morning. Instead, it was a frantic knocking at her door. The sun streaming through the blinds indicated that she had been given the chance to sleep in, and if that wasn’t enough, you had left a little note on her side table: Get some sleep, I’ll handle the morning meetings. Love you!

It was close to noon, from her estimate, so you had kept up your end of the bargain. Natasha groaned into the silk pillow and pulled her way to the door. She glowered at the woman that stood on the other side.

“Did someone die?” Natasha grumbled, “Because you’re about to.”

“You are incredibly grumpy in the morning, has anyone ever told you that?”

Yelena shoved her way into the room. She was holding an envelope that had yet to be opened. There was a specific floral scent, almost like roses. Natasha crinkled her nose; she knew that smell. It had been a constant soothing presence throughout her childhood and beyond. Sometimes, she would walk into random rooms and catch a whisp of the spectral scent.

She snatched the envelope from her sister. It had already been crudely ripped, despite Natasha’s name being on it. This was a federal offense- but most of the stuff that this family did was, so it bothered her surprisingly little.

“Mama is coming for a visit.”

Yelena spilled the words out before Natasha could process the neat Russian writing. Her stomach dropped. Melina and Alexi had moved to a small far just outside of Moscow years ago. They stated that they wanted to get out of the city, but really, Alexi couldn’t keep his hands out of the business if they stayed in the city.

They would call every once and awhile, but were mostly solitary. She’d get a call on Christmas, and her birthday and sometimes the anniversary of her first kill. That one was hit or miss. Rarely- never- had Melina decided to drop by.

“I may have let it slip that you have a girlfriend.”

“Yelena!” Natasha shoved her roughly “Why would you do that?”

“It just came out! She was grilling me about Kate, and I panicked. You know yours is more put together than mine.”

“You threw me under the bus.”

Yelena had a genuinely sad look on her face, one that was borderline pouty. Natasha growled through clenched teeth and finally got a chance to read her mother’s writing. She’d be here tomorrow, and there was too much to do. Natasha’s head started to spin.

In fact, you weren’t more put together than Kate. The two of you seemed to feed off of each other’s chaos. It was fine to deal with on a regular basis, but Melina was like a bloodhound. She would smell fear, and she would play into it until you both were reduced to a crushable size.

Oh, this was not good.

Natasha must have paled noticeably because Yelena took a tepid step closer, creasing her fingers against the empty pink envelope. Melina would be flying alone. She’d be here in two days and that didn’t give either girls much time to process the invasion at all.

Though her father was a stern man in practice, he was much easier to impress than her mother. They balanced one another out, and that was something that would be sorely missed during this visit.

She took a steadying breath, running her fingers over the dented familiarity of her mothers perfect script. There was nothing to worry about, right?

Despite Natasha’s multiple text messages to her mother, insisting that she would send a car to pick her up, Melina took a cab from the airport, not bothering to let either of her daughters in on the fact. She knew the address of her pervious home like the back of her hand, knew the deep green grass of the landscaping and the stretching view of the harbor.

Natasha had been pacing the length of the family room for most of the day. Yelena was draped over the loveseat, her limbs hanging over the sides, making her look nearly lanky compared to the furniture.

“Natasha, please, you are going to wear a hole in the carpet.”

“How can you be so calm?” She halted her pacing, cutting her sister a deadly look.

“I am not calm. I simply mask it better than you.”

The muffled sound of a car door closing made Yelena shoot up from her lounging position, she was standing next to Natasha now, both of them staring wildly at the large oak doors. You and Kate had been sent out with a massive grocery list and it was much too early for the two of you to return with Ronnie. In fact, you usually stopped for some ice cream, or a small lunch as a reward for the tiny girl.

Natasha deemed it better not to inform you, nor Kate, about her mother’s visit. It could be considered cruel, sure, but knowing you the warning would do nothing but send you into an immense panic and that would simply spur her mother on.

Melina had arrived with nothing more than a half-packed duffel bag. She always packed light, using the key on her ring to open the door to the place that was once her home. Natasha and Yelena lingered by the curved entryway, watching as the woman, perfectly sculpted and entirely unchanged, smiled softly at the décor.

“Do not just stand there, girls, come give mama a hug.”

It was an order that Yelena folded in on first. She was stiff at first but at the floral scent that her mother carried like a vice, she melted into the embrace. There was nothing like a mothers hug, and that was evident by her body language.

“Aw, sweet girl” Melina pulled back and squished Yelena’s face between her hands “you are much too lean. Is this Kate girl not feeding you?”

“Mama, prekrati eto” She grumbled, batting the woman away.

Melina narrowed her eyes but focused her attention on her oldest daughter. She grasped both of her hands first, giving them a small squeeze before pulling her into her embrace. Natasha melted, pressed her nose against the side of her mother’s neck. It had been much too long, and despite being reduced to a little girl in this moment, she didn’t seem to mind.

“You’ve healed nicely,” Melina said.

Of course, her mother had heard about the two shots that Natasha took to the back. She had been lucky and avoided any major injury. They were simply superficial, but she could understand how it would sound brutal all the same.

“Now,” she clapped her hands together, getting a devilish look in her eye “where is my granddaughter?”

Natasha choked on air before she glared at Yelena with a look that could kill. Her mother’s hand was patting her back. She’d become tender with age, it seemed. Still, a force to be reckon with, Natasha wouldn’t dare try anything.

“Your granddaughter?”

“Please, Natalia, she sleeps in your bed. Marriage or not, she’s your child. That’s how we got Clint, isn’t it?”

She was at a loss for words. Melina had a point. Clint was a mere stranger to Natasha until her parents took both her and Yelena to the circus that traveled through town. Her younger sister was nothing more than a baby, but Natasha was mystified. More than the clowns, and the acrobats, she had interest in the knife thrower and his charge.

A little boy that was around the same age as Natasha. When the show was over, Natasha refused to move until the young boy, covered in dirt and with dark purple bags under his eyes, started to sweep piles of popcorn and empty paper cups to the sidelines.

She’d introduced herself, and though he was quiet, she took an instant liking to him. Alexi had a few choice words with the boys guardian, who turned out, didn’t want to keep the kid and regarded him as nothing more than an employee- a runaway that had latched onto the circus. He had no idea who the boy belonged to, and Alexi decided that Clint belonged to them, now.

Instead of Clint being like family, he was family.

“Oh Mama, she will marry this girl.” Yelena beamed, “titles be damned.”

Natasha groaned into her hands. Had she thought about marriage? Yes, absolutely. She wanted nothing more than to make you officially hers. But she wanted to wait until the perfect moment; she wanted to not only include Ronnie, but get her input as well.

Melina gave a beautiful smile, patting Natasha’s cheek “I know, moya milaya. Are you not going to show me to my room?”

It was apparent that you and Kate had been sent on a fools errand when you finally got to the store and got a better look at the handwritten list that you were given: Milk, eggs, bread, A single MTS-I Mortorq screw, VW Mk4 Golf R32 duel clutch plate- and seriously, what the hell was that?

Darcy would know, and would have caught on a lot faster than you or Kate did. The more you thought about it, the more you realized that there was no reason to go to the store at all. You’d gone two days prior and knew for a fact that you’d gotten everything recognizable on the list.

“Kid,” Kate gave Ronnie’s had a squeeze “we’ve been played, bamboozled, tricked.”

Your daughter lifted an eyebrow at the woman’s antics. In a few years, she’d move on to eye rolling, and while you weren’t prepared for it, you would be glad for the indication. You’d done it yourself, crumpling up the list and shoving it into your pocket. There was no need to brave the crowds in the grocery store.

Instead, you aimed your sights on the small frozen yogurt place that was nestled in between a shoe store and a Gamestop. You might as well get a treat while you were out, considering Natasha requested you go further than the closest store because she liked the bread at this one better.

“They clearly wanted us out of the house. But why?”

“Yelena usually tells me everything.”

“Huh,”

“What? She does!”

“Doesn’t seem like the type.”

A sweet frozen scent hit your lungs and the little bell above the door sounded. There was a less than enthusiastic employee behind the counter, moving like molasses. You did have to kill time…apparently.

Veronica spoke up when dessert was involved. She didn’t carry a conversation with the teenager, but she did give little indicating sounds. Your arms were crossed over your chest to stave off the cold, and you settled for a simple chocolate. Ronnie loaded hers with a bunch of toppings, and Kate got vanilla with extra (extra) rainbow sprinkles. Each bite she took crunched like gravel.

“The point is, she didn’t say anything about something going down, and if it was, wouldn’t they want us there? Clint’s out of town so we’re the only muscle they’ve got.”

The employee behind the counter lifted an eyebrow at you both and you made sure to stick an extra couple of bills in the tip jar with a sheepish smile. You ushered them both to one of the benches outside, basking in the highpoint of the sun and cursing Kate’s tact, or lack thereof.

“You’ve got a point. Maybe it’s something personal?” You suggested, reaching your pink plastic spoon over and stealing a bite of Ronnie’s candy-coated yogurt. She batted you away, a little too slow and you claimed your prize.

“Yelena tells me-“

“Everything, I know.”

Kate took her own scoop of frozen yogurt and crunched on it thoughtfully. “They’re nervous. If they’re being this secretive. They sent us out for car parts for a car that none of us own.”

“Lena said that Mama is coming for a visit.”

Ronnie’s feet didn’t’ touch the ground and she was working at dislodging a frozen gummy bear that became mostly inedible. She kicked back and forth and only looked up from her task when she was met with silence.

Kate’s mouth was propped open, and your eyes were wide. She frantically glanced between the both of you and shrugged her little shoulders. “This is one of those things I’m supposed to tell you, right?”

Kate nodded, suddenly losing her appetite “Uh-huh,”

You’d heard about Melina before, in passing, but Natasha seemed to bristle about the woman. She did the same for her father, but you knew the legends of Alexi and his kind hand when it came to running the city. Her mother was entirely different; entirely horrifying.

You’d seen a picture of her in a small and dusty shoe-box while helping Natasha clean out the attic one day last summer. It was stiflingly hot, and you were shocked to find it framed, but shoved away all the same.

Natasha was young, maybe around eleven, and Clint was next to her, smiling with missing front teeth. Yelena was smaller, the large hands of Alexi engulfing her shoulders. And then there was Melina, even in casual cargo shorts and striped tank-top, she looked regal and oh-so intimidating.

Your girlfriends’ arms wrapped around her midsection, her chin resting on your shoulder. She gave you a squeeze and stared down at the photo you were holding.

“You were cute as a kid.”

“were?”

“Still are!” you corrected, smiling lazily down at the family photo.

There was something longing behind your gaze that Natasha admired. Not that she would tell you that. Instead, she told you about the trip to Busche Gardens that ended in Clint nearly drowning and Yelena throwing up after she scarfed down three corndogs and a funnel cake.

Now you felt like you would vomit yourself, sliding your frozen yogurt away with a frown. You were far from prepared to meet Melina Romanoff, and by the green look on Kate’s face, so was she.

“Oh, we are so fuc… screwed. We’re screwed.”

“I know the word fuck, mommy says it all the time.”

“Just because I say it doesn’t mean you can. Eat your yogurt.”

You were clearly having a crisis and Veronica was clearly enjoying the fact that you’d given up on your frozen yogurt. She took alternating bites and would most definitely lose her appetite if she kept going, but you couldn’t’ bring yourself to push it away.

“Why wouldn’t they tell us?” you asked.

“Probably because of this” Kate made a vague gesture “this who panicking thing? Melina is going to kill us both and then it won’t matter but they decided to spare us the torture of waiting for this day.”

It felt like slowly working a mouse away from a glue trap by the time your frozen yogurt had turned to nothing but a brown soup. There was nothing to hold you and Kate from home now, and Ronnie was growing restless under the hand of the sun. You swore you heard her mutter something about Grandma, but chose to ignore it entirely in favor for pure fear.

Natasha seemed to be waiting at the door to intercept both you before you went any further. Not that you minded her soothing hand on your chest, and an apologetic look in her eyes. She smoothed your shirt down once, and then nervously, twice.

“Sweetie, I don’t think it’ll un-wrinkle, no matter how hot your hands are.”

“See that,” She whispered harshly, “Is something we’re not going to do. Both of you need to be on your best behavior. Understood? Better than best. Kate maybe don’t… talk.”

“Aye, captain.”

The younger woman frowned at her own words and instead settled for miming zipping her lips shut. Maybe it would better for you not to talk either. From your spot in the foyer, with Ronnie clinging to the fabric of your jeans, you could hear the muffled Russian. Yelena was responding to something, a bit of a whining tone to her voice.

Natasha’s hands had made their way to yours. She knit them together, a sort of an anchor. The other hand reached down to Ronnie, who was suddenly shy despite her earlier indifference. You could throw up right here and now but figured that would only serve to embarrass you further.

There was a clear similarity between Melina and Natasha; the high cheek bones, the striking green gaze, the flawless skin. She held the same cold stare that her daughter did but could hide her emotions better than your girlfriend. A stone dropped in your stomach under her gaze.

Natasha squeezed your hand tighter, her thumb on your pulse point. The pad of her finger ran over it gently, assuredly. She knew you were horrified. Kate gulped (which to her credit, was technically not talking, but was still painfully audible.)

Melina had a knife in her hand, a half-carved apple resting between she and Yelena like a peace offering. There were differences in the cuts, one smoother, the other more practiced. This family found leisure activity in carving techniques.

Natasha warned in a breath “Bud' milym, mama.”

Her mother didn’t heed the warning. Instead, she closed the difference between you. Yelena instinctively tightened her grip on the kitchen knife, not that she’d ever use it. Melina scrutinized you for what seemed like years, but was only a few ticking seconds.

“Ona khoroshen'kaya”

“spasibo, Miss Romanoff”

“ah, you know Russian?”

“Yelena has been teaching me.” You swallowed the dryness in your throat as her raised eyebrow lowered to something less intimidating. “Ma’am.”

“Manners too. Maybe you can teach my Natalia something or two about that.”

You felt you cheeks heat up and you diverted your eyes to the floor. It had directed the attention in the room to the small girl clinging to your leg as if it were a piece of beached driftwood and she were fighting against the raging currents.

Melina knelt down in front of your daughter, her rigid stance loosening until she looked more like a mother than yourself. She was soft in this moment, the sun hitting her eyes in a way that made them glow supernaturally.

“Hi, Malen'kiy strelok”

Natasha parted her lips, as if to inform her mother that Veronica didn’t speak much, if at all. She’d gotten better, sure, but it was nearly stagnant with new people. Ronnie studied Melina as the woman had studied you.

“What does that mean?” Ronnie asked, her grip lessening.

Melina smiled “Little marksman. From what I hear, your mother has a very good aim. Do you?”

“I don’t know yet. Kate says I do.”

“Well, I’m sure we will find out in due time, milaya devushka.” She tentatively tucked a strand of hair behind Ronnie’s ear before standing again and focusing her attention on Kate. Kate who had paled at least ten shades and was sweating despite the air conditioning in the house.

Yelena straightened up herself, giving a silent warning with her stare. Of course, Kate didn’t’ see it like you and Natasha did, her arm having moved from your hand to your hip bone in the quiet approval from her mother. She’d relaxed significantly.

“Hi,” Kate squeaked out and Yelena stifled a groan put massaged her temple.

Melina seemed to look to Natasha for confirmation: This is the one she chooses?

With you, there was merit. There were callouses on your hands and scars that hardened under the fabric of your shirt. Kate was much of the same, though, she showed it in a nervous, fluttering type of way that presented outwardly as fumbling and awkward.

“Krasivo, no... puglivo. Like deer.” Melina offered a small smile to the girl and her breath seemed to release.

Skittish. Kate was certainly that, but she seemed to balance out Yelena with the perfect amount of caring and heart. Melina was nothing, if not vigilant. She clapped her hands together, that small smile turning into a large grin. “You all must eat something, you look starving. And Natasha, you are slouching, don’t’ slouch in front of your daughter. Those bad manners.”

“Mama, I am not slouching.”

Natasha groaned as the tension in the room broke. Her forehead pushed against your cheek. Veronica dragged Kate over to the kitchen island by the hand and instruction on the proper way to carve pieces from an apple began, much to Yelena’s huffing dismay.

Hands shifted from your hips, finding the two back pockets of your jeans. “She likes you,”

“I would be dead by now if she didn’t.”

“Yeah, right when you walked through the door.”

The two of you chuckled, her nose nudging against yours. “She called Ronnie your daughter.”

“I’m sorry, dorogoy, she pushes. She means well.”

You pressed a small kiss to the corner of her mouth, words a light whisper “don’t apologize. I like the sound of it.”

Before Natasha could collect her thoughts, her rush of pure emotion, you had pulled away from her and joined the rest of the family around the kitchen island. Though she couldn’t hear exactly what was being said, Natasha was more than content standing in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest.

Her heart pounded fondly.

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anotherfuckingmarvelfanaccount · 2 years

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I Lost My Phone! (Avengers x Reader)

So due to all of the birthday posts celebrating Steve, I realized that on my school-induced Tumblr hiatus, I missed a shit-ton of birthdays between Bucky’s and Steve’s. So there’s gonna be a ton of birthday posts coming for the MCU characters that I can find birthdays for. In the meantime, enjoy this fic that’s taken me months to write and find inspiration for.

Warnings: slight Sam x Reader, my taste in music (that deserves its own warning any day), reader being called just about every nickname I could think of, swearing.

Word Count: 3950

Summary: Reader’s ADHD causes her to lose her phone a lot, when the Avengers find out she has specialized ringtones for all of them, they’re obsessed with finding out what they all are.

For an Avenger, you were actually pretty young. You were older than Peter, but still younger than Wanda and Pietro. You were close with all three of them, and you all loved to make references that confused the fuck out of everyone else. You also had ADHD, which meant lots of things. For you, it meant that something specific, like a bobby pin from 3 years ago, was fresh in your mind. Your top left desk drawer, underneath the colouring books, to be exact. But, you were always fidgeting with something; your ring, a pen, tapping your fingers, and literally anything you could get your hands on. You spaced out a lot, so you would fidget with a pen during meetings so you could actually pay attention. Also, you had this terrible habit of losing everything that wasn’t specific; your phone, wallet, keys were left everywhere around the compound.

You were sitting in the lab one day, fidgeting with a brain puzzle Tony had left on his lab bench while he was upgrading something into your suit. “Kiddo?” He asked, “Peter just texted me that he texted you hours ago and you still haven’t responded. He wants to know if you’re mad at him, and if you’re still on for that late lunch picnic.”

“Oh, would you let him know that I’m not mad at him and that I’ll get all the stuff for the picnic if he’s willing to swing us to where we’re going?” You responded.

“Sure, I can do that,” Tony replied, drafting his response to Peter. “Why haven’t you responded to him?”

You laughed. “I have no idea where my phone is, Mr. Stark. I haven’t seen it in hours, and I have no clue where I left it.”

Tony laughed too, having done the same thing many times over the years, though you did it far more often than he ever did. “I’ll just call you then, it’ll help. Unless your phone’s on vibrate?”

“No, it’s not on vibr- wait, don’t call me!” You exclaimed, but it was too late. Who’s Your Daddy by Toby Keith started playing from upstairs, and you ran up to the kitchen where you found your phone ringing on the counter.

Clint and Natasha were sitting at the counter, drinking yet another coffee. “Why is that your ringtone for Tony?” She asked.

“I, uh- it’s- I-” You stumbled over your words, turning your phone off, blushing as Tony came up the stairs behind you.

“Why is that your ringtone for me, kiddo?” He asked, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You could easily escape if you wanted to, but it was his way of letting you know that he actually wanted an answer.

“My dad was shitty, my parents sold me into HYDRA as soon as my powers manifested, and when you guys got me out.. I just kinda.. y’know.” You said, hiding your head in your hands.

Clint rubbed your arm softly, “Hey, don’t forget about that picnic with Peter.”

“Oh, shit! He’ll be here any minute! I have to pack the food!” You scrambled around the kitchen, your gravitational powers making everything around you float as you did, and you didn’t even notice Tony slip your phone into your back pocket, just so you wouldn’t forget it again.

There was a knock in the kitchen doorway, and you turned to see Peter. “Y/N/N!”

“Peter!” You ran over to wrap him in a hug.

“You didn’t have your phone, did you?”

“Had no idea where it was. Mr. Stark had to call me.” You said, nuzzling into his chest.

Peter chuckled, “So I guess they know what your ringtone is now?” You blushed and pressed yourself further into his chest, wanting to disappear. “Do they know what it is for me?” He asked. You shook your head and tried to stop him from pulling his phone out, but he called you anyways.

You grabbed his hand and started leaving with the food as the Spiderman theme song started playing in your pocket. You turned it off and called behind you. “Goodbye Mr. Barton, Ms. Romanoff, Mr. Dad!”

“What did she just say?” You heard Tony ask as the doors shut behind the both of you.

“What did I do?” You asked while Peter was swinging you to a spot you had deemed as the ‘Kids Room’. Only Peter, Wanda, Pietro, and you were allowed in, and it was just a treehouse that Tony had built in the woods that surrounded the Compound. But it was fun not letting any of the other Avengers in.

“You called Mr. Stark something you probably didn’t mean to.”

“Peter, what did I say?”

“You called him ‘Mr. Dad.’” Peter explained, you groaned, hiding your face in his neck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next time you couldn’t find your phone was actually the next day in the gym. Tony had designed you special wireless headphones that would work up to a mile away from your actual phone. Meaning that your phone could be anywhere in the Compound, and while listening to your music, you would have no idea. You had come back last night from your outing with Peter, and got him to swing you directly up to your bedroom so you didn’t have to run into anyone else, before kissing his cheek and telling him good night. You didn’t have feelings for him, it was just something you two always did.

“Captain Rogers!” You called from your place on top of the gymnastics bars, “Have you seen my phone anywhere? I can’t remember where I left it.”

Steve shook his head in response, “I’m sorry, kiddo, I haven’t. Do you want me to call it for you?” He asked, pulling his phone out already.

“Yeah, that might be a good idea- wait.” You dropped off the bars as soon as you heard the first bar of Ice Ice Baby. “Shit!” You exclaimed, running towards the noise.

“Language!” Steve called, following you. His super-soldier hearing was sure to hear what his ringtone was.

You pulled open the cabinet with the mugs, where you had left your phone this morning after pouring your coffee, and declined the call. “Thanks, Captain.” You muttered, walking off to take your post-training shower.

“I’m starting to think she does this on purpose,” Clint said, poking his head out of the vents.

“What do you mean?” Steve asked in response.

“Just yesterday Y/N forgot where her phone was while Peter was trying to get a hold of her, and Tony had to call her phone. It was sitting on the counter. At least she has a good sense of humour. I wonder what her ringtone is for me..” He wondered thoughtfully.

“What was her ringtone for Tony?” Steve always had more questions.

“Some country song called Who’s Your Daddy. Y/N evidently sees Stark as a father figure, she even called him Mr. Dad by accident yesterday as she was leaving for her picnic with Peter.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was only a few hours later when you couldn’t find your phone yet again. “I’m starting to wonder if someone’s just moving it when I’m not paying attention.” You said, patting your pockets as you walked into the kitchen where Clint was pouring yet another cup of coffee.

“What’s wrong, kiddo?” He asked.

“I can’t find my phone, again!” You exclaimed. “It’s the second time today that it hasn’t been exactly where I thought it was!”

Clint chuckled, “Where did you think you left it this time?”

“My pocket.” You deadpanned, subtly looking behind him to see if he had hidden it from you so he could find out what his ringtone was.

“Should I call you?”

“I wouldn’t. I’ll find it in a few minutes, don’t worry about it.” It was at that moment that you heard Men in Tights from Robin Hood coming from in between the couch cushions.

You dove towards the couch, but Clint, being taller and stronger, beat you there. “Really? This is my ringtone?”

“Robin Hood’s an archer!” You defended yourself, reaching across him for your phone to turn it off.

Nat walked in at that moment, and started chuckling at the position the two of you were in. “So, sexual tension with people other than your wife, Barton?”

“Nat, he took my phone.” You whined, unable to reach it without physically climbing him.

“Clint, give Y/N her phone back. Y/N, stop getting mad that people are finding out what your ringtones for them are. You have an excellent sense of humor, and nobody has been mad about their ringtone yet.”

“You guys are keeping a list, aren’t you?” You grimaced.

Clint and Natasha both laughed, “And keeping track of who laughs at which one.” He added.

“Ouch.” You said softly, putting your phone back in your pocket and heading back into the kitchen. “What’s for dinner?”

“Nobody’s really sure yet. What do you want?” Nat replied.

“If there’s one thing I learned from my missions with HYDRA, it was how to make a mean mac n’ cheese.” You said, pulling the ingredients out of the cupboards.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you woke up the next morning, it was to someone banging on your door. “Y/N! Training! You’re late!”

You groaned, rolling towards the noise and off the edge of your bed. “Fuck!” You exclaimed, having hit your head on the nightstand.

Bucky rushed in, “Y/N, are you alright, doll?” He helped you sit up while you were holding the back of your head.

“I-” You hissed softly, “hit my head. It hurts, Sarge.”

“Yeah, you’ve got a pretty good gash there, kid. Why weren’t you already up?”

“I don’t know where my phone is, it never went off with my alarm. I always leave it plugged in right there.” You explained, pointing to your laptop, which was currently plugged in. “Huh, charged the laptop last night instead?”

“Let me call you, doll. And then we’ll get you down to Helen in the medbay to get you all fixed up, you’re bleeding.”

“Okay, that’s a good plan.” You started to say, “Wait, my ringt-” But it was too late, Rasputin was playing from somewhere under your bed.

Bucky laid down on his stomach to get it for you. “Nice choice, kid.” He said, passing your phone back to you before he picked you up bridal style. “Let’s get you to Helen.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were able to keep track of your phone for the next three days, but while reading on the couch you realized it had been hours since you had last seen it. “Ms. Romanoff?” You called, knowing she was sitting in the kitchen. “I haven’t seen my phone in hours, have you seen it anywhere?”

“Sorry, sweetie, I haven’t. I can call you?” She pulled her phone out, and as she did you remembered what your ringtone is for her.

“I wouldn’t do-” You started to say until you heard Black Widow by Iggy Azalea playing from the fridge. You stood up and walked over to it, opening the door. “What the fuck is my phone doing in there?”

“You must’ve traded your phone for a YOP drink.” Natasha said, ending the call from her end of the phone. “Hm, Barnes was right, you do have good taste in music.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With Bruce you were always pretty good at keeping your phone handy, which was good, because you didn’t actually have a special ringtone for him, which you guessed made him special in his own right. You just could never think of a song that fit him well enough to be special enough for his ringtone. You spent a little extra time with Bruce to make up for it, plus you figured that whenever you moved your phone, he would make sure that he knew where it was so you wouldn’t lose it. You had a sneaking suspicion that Hulk liked you too, if the way you were able to calm him down was any indication.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was about a week after Natasha had helped you find your phone that you had lost it again. Thor and Loki were back, and while Loki often stayed on Asgard, since Thor insisted he was actually the better king, you enjoyed getting to spend time with both of them. They did both have phones now, since Tony had forced it upon them both last time they were on Earth, so you all would have a means of getting a hold of them, other than praying Heimdall would hear you. They both immediately came to you for help on understanding the Midgardian device. Similar to what Steve and Bucky did with their first phones too, actually.

You had been searching for the last 20 minutes, all over the Compound, and you couldn’t find your phone anywhere. It wasn’t anywhere in your room, your bathroom, you checked all the kitchen cupboards and the fridge, twice; and you had even checked all the furniture in the main living room where you and Loki had been quietly reading that morning after training. Nothing. Your phone was nowhere to be found. You had even poked your head into the lab while Tony and Bruce were gone to see if Peter had seen it. Still no. Your phone was gone. You were just going to have to get a new one and transfer over all of the data. You groaned, flopping down on the couch, data transfers take for-fucking-ever.

“Little angel?” Loki asked. “Is something wrong?”

“I can’t find my phone, as per usual. I’m just gonna go get a new one and do a data transfer, which takes for-fucking-ever to load and it’s annoying as shit.” You flopped your head to look over at him on the other couch, pouting.

“Why don’t you just get someone to call your phone?” He asked. “I can do it if you’d like.”

You sighed, resigned to have left it somewhere stupid yet again. “I guess you’re my last option, Mischief.” Loki pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped on your contact, calling you. bad guy by Billie Eilish started playing from down the hall, in the training room. You ran towards the noise, picking your phone up once you got there. “Now I remember! I didn’t have pockets in my workout clothes this morning, so I left my phone on the bench. I haven’t needed it, so I didn’t think twice about not having it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You also didn’t have a ringtone for Rhodey, but he was almost never around, and he never called you anyways. You only had his number in case of emergency, mostly for when Tony was stupidly drunk or if he was fighting with Steve and nobody could get them off of each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning after Loki had helped you find your phone, you couldn’t find it again. “Nope, I’m not gonna bother, it’ll show up in a few minutes.. or hours..” You mumbled, curling up on the couch with your book.

Three hours later, after finishing your book, going to training, taking a shower, making everyone lunch, and running some errands, you still hadn’t seen your phone anywhere. You retraced your steps throughout the day, pausing momentarily to ask Bruce if you had had it when you stopped in the lab this morning to ask Tony about an upgrade to your suit. Apparently not.

“Lady Y/N?” Thor asked, coming up behind you. “Are you feeling alright? You’ve been running back and forth across the compound looking like a- what’s the saying?”

“A chicken with my head cut off?” You asked, sighing.

“Yes, that’s it!” Thor exclaimed. “Is something wrong?”

“I can’t find my phone, Thor. That’s all. I’m sure it’ll turn up somewhere.”

Thor picked you up and put you on his shoulders. “If I called you, milady, would it help?”

“I suppose..” You told him, using your gravitational powers to float safely back to the ground. Thor pulled his phone out and you heard Thunder by Imagine Dragons playing from the lab downstairs. “But.. I didn’t have it when I was down here this morning? I guess I could’ve left it down here last night and since it’s the weekend none of my alarms would’ve gone off.”

“Oh, crap, Y/N, I am so sorry.” Bruce said, looking up from his computer. “I was cleaning up the lab this morning and I must’ve put some things on top of your phone and then Tony moved them, and-”

“Bruce, if I had really needed it, I would’ve gotten someone to call it for me sooner. My only missed call is from Thor. Trust me, it’s alright.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you couldn’t find your phone again right after dinner, you were starting to worry about yourself. I can’t possibly misplace it this often, you thought to yourself. Somebody has to be moving it when I’m not paying attention so they can find out all my ringtones. Or maybe I really am this forgetful. Should I ask Dr. Cho about upping my meds? Should I go off my meds and see what happens? Should I-

“Y/N/N? You alright, sweetie?” Sam asked, interrupting your train of thought.

You jumped, not having heard his knock on your door. “Oh, Sammy! You scared me! I didn’t hear you come in.”

“It’s alright. You were really lost in thought, huh?”

“Yeah, I was.” You ducked your head, blushing. “Did you need something?”

“I was just coming to check on you. FRIDAY said you were in here pacing.”

“Oh, yeah, I do that when I’m stressed. Sorry.”

“It doesn’t bother me, honey. Why are you stressed?” He asked, sitting on your bed and patting the spot next to him.

“I just feel like somebody has to be taking my phone and hiding it. I can’t possibly misplace it this often, right? I was thinking that I should talk to Dr. Cho about my med dosage since I feel like I’m more disorganized on them than I am off. It’s not even just my phone, other than the bobby pin under the colouring books in my top left desk drawer, I never know where anything is anymore.”

“Okay, so we’ll find your phone and go talk to Helen about your meds. Problem solved.” Sam wrapped an arm around you and pulled out his phone to call you.

You nuzzled into his side and mumbled, “What if I don’t want you to find out what my ringtone for you is?”

He kissed the top of your head. “We’ve all loved your ringtones for us, honey. Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do.” As you said this, Sam clicked the ‘call’ button on your contact and Fly Like A Bird by Nelly Furtado started playing from the hallway. You opened the door and found your phone on the little table next to your door. “Fuck.” You said under your breath.

“Hey,” Sam said, wrapping you in a hug and resting his chin on your head. “That’s hilarious, sweetie. I love it.”

You turned around in his arms and wrapped your own around him, “You’re not mad?”

“Of course not. Now what’s this I hear about Barnes having his hands on my girl last week while I was on a mission?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After fixing your meds up with Sam and Dr. Cho, you were able to keep track of your phone for about 5 days. Sam helped. But, now, you had just finished training with Wanda and Pietro and you had no idea where your phone was. This was especially making you think you were crazy since these workout clothes have pockets. Both front and back. “Sammy! Have you seen my phone?” You asked, poking your head into his apartment.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He called from under the bathroom sink. “Have you asked Wanda and Pietro? I know you were just training with them.”

“Nope, I came here on my way to them. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Of course you will, it’s movie night.”

“Right, yeah. I forgot. Okay, I’m gonna go find Wanda and Piet, but I’ll see you later.” You said, kissing his forehead and shutting the door behind you. The next thing you knew, you heard Red by Taylor Swift playing from somewhere above you. That was your ringtone for Wanda, she was calling you?

“Up here, sora!” You heard Wanda call from the balcony. Looking up, you saw her waving your phone and you quickly used your gravity powers to float it down to you. “Oh, Y/N/N, you did such a great job controlling your powers!” Wanda shouted, running down the stairs to wrap you in a hug.

Pietro was right behind her, and all of a sudden you were in the middle of a group hug with the twins. “Well, princessa, now that we know what your ringtone for Wanda is, we have to find out what it is for me.”

“Speed, I am speed.” came blaring through your phone speakers in the voice of Owen Wilson, who played Lightning McQueen in the movie Cars. You sighed, dropping your head onto Wanda’s shoulder as you declined Pietro’s call.

“That is the best thing in the world, princessa.” Pietro said, speeding you back to your apartment. “We’ll see you at movie night tonight?”

You nodded, leaning in the doorway. “Of course you will, Speedy. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, just when you thought you were done with everybody calling you to find out their ringtone, King T’Challa and Princess Shuri showed up.

“Y/N?” Shuri asked, knocking on your door, “Are you awake yet, love?”

You flung your door open, “Yes, I am, but I was looking for my phone before I came out for breakfast.”

“Oh, let me just call you.” Shuri pulled out her phone and called you, and Get Lucky by Daft Punk and Pharrell Williams started playing from down the hallway, in the kitchen.

You walked down the hall, into the kitchen, where everybody was eating breakfast, blushing. “Couldn’t find your phone again, honey?” Sam asked. You nodded, grabbing it out from under your favourite mug.

“How did it even get out here? I had it last night in bed.”

“No you didn’t, you were in here making popcorn and brought your phone with you. You never brought it back, so I just assumed you grabbed it on our way to bed last night.”

“I must not have.” You said, finally remembering to hang up the call to make the song stop.

Natasha wrote something down on her phone, you assumed she was continuing to add to the list of ringtones she was keeping. “Hey, T’Challa, you’re the only one that we don’t know Y/N’s ringtone for, would you mind calling her for us?” Tony asked.

“Of course I can,” T’Challa said, pulling his phone out.

You quickly tapped on your phone, changing T’Challa’s ringtone while you still had a chance. Unfortunately, you weren’t fast enough because The Pink Panther started playing as your phone lit up with a call from the Wakandan King. “Crap.” You mumbled, declining the call.

“Oh, honey.” Sam said, walking over to you and wrapping you in a hug. “Your sense of humour is absolutely the light of our lives. Has anybody disliked what Y/N/N’s ringtone for them was?” Everybody shook their heads.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All in all, losing your phone so often because of your ADHD didn’t end up being so bad. But Clint got his ass kicked when Peter found your phone left in the vents one day. Turns out, when Clint isn’t hiding your phone, you actually don’t lose it all that often.

I hope you enjoyed! Once again, I have no idea how to end fics, so you get that piece of shit as a last paragraph.

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saltsicklover · 1 year

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Stereo Lust - Part 2

Title: Stereo Lust (2/2)

Word Count: 10,271

Pairing: Jeremy Renner x Fem Reader (Written in First Person)

Rating: M

Warnings: Sex, Blow Jobs, Light Dom/Sub if you squint, probably poorly written smut all around.

Disclaimer: I do not own Jeremy Renner, or the music referenced within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that contains mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

By the time we made it to his truck he was practically pulling me, rushing hand in hand, giggling like teenagers who just snuck out and are up to no good. He reaches deep into his pocket for the keys, fishing them out before pulling me into his chest.

"You ready to get out of here?" My words coming out with a hopeful urgency. My lips brush over his, inviting him in for another heated kiss. He declines the invitation, pressing a quick kiss to the side of my mouth before shoving my sweatshirt into my hands. I pull it over my head as he steps away from me a bit, drinking me in with his eyes.

"I was ready from the moment you butted into my game." Laughter rumbles from deep in his chest, but my mouth drops open in mock offense.

"Excuse me, I did no such-" He pushes me backwards, my back hitting the cold exterior of his truck sending a shiver through my spin as he pins me in place with his body. Fuck me.

"Don't deny it sweetheart, you did, but I'm glad you did. From the moment I saw that face of yours I was hooked, but then you bent over that table, ass on full display and it took everything in me not to grab you and take you right then and there." He pushes himself up against me and I can feel every cell in my body pull towards him. He places a finger under my chin, tilting my gaze upward with a gentle push of his finger. I grab fists full of his tee-shirt, crumpling the fabric in my palms, fingers tight, pulling him in for a kiss.

He grinds his hips against mine, attempting to receive some sort of friction for the erection currently blooming behind the prison of his jeans. This man is going to kill me and I am going to thank him for it as the life drains out of me, hopefully though repeated orgasms. He pulls away from me quickly, hand moving up from my chin to grip my face. He squeezed lightly, but the gesture causes a twist of arousal to run through my body, taking over every inch.

"Get your ass in the truck, I need to get you home." His voice is low, husky and full of lust. I nod in agreement, a fierce smile adorning my face. I climb into the truck as he holds the heavy door open for me. He pats my ass gently as I pull myself up into the raised cabin.

The ride to Jeremy's flies by, probably because he's speeding the whole way while he kneads my thigh with his strong fingers, teasing me as he brings them higher and higher between my legs before working his way back down. I let my hands roam over every part of him that I could reach, reminding him to watch the road any time his focus seemed to drift. Focus, focus, focus.

He kills the headlights when we hit the driveway, putting the truck in park. He slides over on the bench seat before pulling me over his body. I straddle him, letting my weight drop fully onto his thighs. Jeremy roams his hands over my legs and the globes of my ass, kneading and planishing over my flesh, my jeans heating up under his touch.

I move to kiss him, but he stops me with a finger to my lips. "I gotta ask you something, before we go any further." His voice is breathy and sweet. I can still feel the slight bulge of his edifice beneath me. I try and push the thoughts of roaming hands and his warm lips from my mind as I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, nodding, urging him to continue. He returns his hand to my thigh, rubbing them as if he was trying to ease a sort of anxiety.

"What's up?" I take his face in my hands gently, running my thumb over his raspberry bruised lips. His chest expands against me as he draws in a deep breath, calculating his next words.

"I really don't want to ruin the mood, 'cause we got a good thing going here tonight, and though I really don't give a flying fuck, I've gotta ask you anyway. You know I'm older than you, right? Probably a lot older." He questions, mumbling the last part, eyes darting around my features. He gestures between us awkwardly and I want to take is fidgeting hands in mine, so I do, finally letting myself break from lust and passion to tenderness. I can't help but let a titter of a laugh escape me, a smile branching across my lips. His face bleeds a punched bruise of a blush, bright and unadulterated in the low light of the truck cabin.

The windows have begun to fog over from the heat leaving our skin meeting the cold air of the night at the glass. The world has dissipated outside of this truck cabin, outside of this moment, our bodies pressed together with a sort of electric yearning. Jeremy's question still hangs in the air like a sheet on the line, my laughter like a fluttering wind. I can't let the question he's posed sneak into the depths of my psyche, out of fear that that I may end up questioning my actions even though everything in me is screaming for more- so I joke and I kid, and I play the parts of myself that feel like they know what they are doing, allowing any bit of apprehension fall into the swirling pit of my stomach to be drowned there.

"Do you really think I would be here if I cared about something like that?" I run my thumb over the zenith of his lips again, eyes scanning his reaction carefully. He doesn't seem phased either way, so I continue, "Would it help if I told you that just this past month I have had people guess my age anywhere from 16 to 30?" He grins a bit at the thought.

"I predate the fall of the Twin Towers. I remember when Britany and Justin wore matching denim ensembles, and I remember waiting for music videos to premiere on MTV. Hell, you met me in a fucking bar, Jeremy." I lament. "I am an adult, and I have eyes, I know you are older than me, but I also know you are the sexiest man I have ever met and I knew what I was getting myself into the second you slid me to the end of my stool. I want to be here, with you. You still get to have your way with me tonight, that was the deal, remember?" I joke, bumping my nose into his.

Jeremy visibly relaxes at my words, his body becoming less tense beneath my hands, my own body relaxing from his ease. He grins at me, a slanted, wry smile that warms my entire fucking soul. "Did you really think I'd forget our deal?"

I shake my head at him, a smile across my lips to match his. "Of course not, but I'd be here without the deal, too." I joust, letting my hands roam up his body again. He chuckles lowly, bringing his hands up to cup my face. "So are we going to do this right here, or are you planning on taking me inside?" I grind down a bit into his lap, teasing him, clear that I have succeeded by the way he drags his next breath in through gritted teeth.

"As fun as it taking you right here would be," He tucks a stray piece of hair behind me ear with one calloused finger, "What I have planned for you is going to take a little more room. Up and out, Sweetheart." He pats the thickness of my body where my thigh meet ass, signaling for me to move.

"Yes, sir." I tease with a two finger salute, dismounting his lap before throwing open the door of his truck. I take the lead, hurrying up the long driveway, heading for the front door "Get up here, Pretty Boy, or I'm gonna have to leave you out of the fun!" I call behind me. When I reach the front door, I back into it pulling my sweatshirt over my head, watching Jeremy stalk up the driveway after me.

He operates somewhere between crass and intrigue, walking the tightrope of flirtation. From light caresses to calculated placements of his large hands. I am deadened to the world at his touch, the thought of his body on mine as he steps closer, closing me against the doorframe.

"You are going to be the death of me, if you keep that shit up." He points a finger at me, but I can see the smile threatening to break his stern gaze.

"Which part? The name calling or-" He catches my lips with his, interrupting my thought and replacing it with his tongue. These entanglements feel like the last embrace of the world itself. The feeling of my stomach floating in my chest leaving me breathless; the only saving grace being the bit of oxygen we have trapped between the parlance of our lips- and it is Godly.

Jeremy pushes open the door, holding my close with an arm wrapped securely around my lower back, palm pressing into me as his fingers stretch out to encapsulate as much of my body as he can reach.

"After you, Bub." He whispers sweetly, releasing me from his grasp. I turn around swiftly, entering the dark foyer of his home with careful steps. I toe off my boots letting them fall roughly to the floor, throwing my sweatshirt on top of them. I turn to see Jeremy doing the same, hand against the door for balance.

He takes my hand, pulling me through the dark house through rooms I cannot see. The whole space smells like firewood and incent cones, a warm mixture that spreads throughout my senses mixing with the alcohol that is fading away. We make it to the back of the house before Jeremy flips on the lights, illuminating a grand kitchen area.

"Sit, please." He motions to the stools at the bar top, I roll my eyes at him.

"So now you're going to be polite." I laugh at him, pulling myself up onto the bar top, not bothering to sit in one of the actual chairs. I can't bother to take in the details of the room around me, my attention fully fixated on the man in front of me and the way he leans back into the countertop. We stare at each other for a moment before he moves again.

"I am always polite." He corrects, digging through his refrigerator.

"That's the first time you have said 'please' tonight." He turns around to find me perched on top of the counter, leaning back on my elbows. "Not that I'm complaining, I guess."

I can feel my confidence wavering as I take in the change of scenery before me. We are no longer in the asylum of the bar. The situation I have found myself in both daunts and thrills me in equal measure. I try to ease the rapid beating of my heart, focusing on the cold countertop beneath me.

"Then why did you bring it up?" He walks over, holding a bottle of water out to me. I take it, cracking it open before taking a long drink of the cold liquid. He watches me carefully, drinking from his own bottle, waiting for me to answer.

"Uhh, nerves I guess, maybe?" I question myself, running my hand over my hair in attempt to redirect the nervous energy.

"You don't have to be nervous." He informs me, setting his bottle down on the edge of the island. "There's a reason I brought you here to the kitchen instead of taking you straight to the first flat surface I could find," A apprehensive laugh escapes my lips at his words. I let my eyes wander down his sturdy frame, the visual presence of his erection has disappeared and I fight my urge to frown.

"And what reason was that exactly?" I take another grounding sip of the cold water, feeling it run all the way down my throat, the cold spreading through my upper body with a breathless chill.

"Well, there's actually a couple'a reasons." He begins, inching towards me. "But most importantly is the fact that we have to have a conversation first." He stands in front of me, the digits of his left hand ghosting over my thigh carefully, testing the waters.

"First off, though I may be the one who's physically in control, you have the final say in absolutely everything we do tonight. Every touch, no matter how small you will be in control of. You say stop, I stop, simple as that." He deepens his touch into the thickness of my legs, both hands working at the muscle.

"Second," He continues, eyes locking with mine, "You are going to tell me exactly how you like to be touched. Though, I feel like I am already figuring it out."

I roll my eyes at him, the tension between us ebbing and flowing, all the anxiety fizzling out. He might say I am in control, but anything that leaves his lips that even comes close to a suggestion, an action, a command, it's done.

"Finally, I want you to take a look around first." He runs a hand down my arm, sincerity in his voice.

"A look around?" I question, raising an eyebrow. "You want me to walk around your house?" I gape at him a bit, trying to figure out if he is serious. My lust clouded brain trying to work out all of the pieces that have been laid out in front of me.

"Just take a look," He holds a hand out to me, inviting me off of the counter. "You don't know me all that well, apparently, and I'd like to know I have your trust before we continue anything. I'd also like you to be sober, so you can make a fully informed decision."

"You're starting to sound like a guidance counselor" I joke, taking his hand. I slide off the countertop. He places a sweet kiss to my knuckles before letting go of my hand.

"Just go look around, would ya." He laughs, "I will be waiting for you right here. Can I make you anything while you're gone?"

"Surprise me." I wink, walking out of the kitchen back the way we first came through.

This has to be one of the oddest requests I have gotten from a man, looking around his house without him there to prompt me. I am being asked to snoop. Actually snoop. I only make it out of the room before turning back around and calling back to Jeremy.

"Why do you want me to do this? Do you really want me to snoop?"

"Just think of it as an unguided tour," He calls back. I walk back into the room, leaning myself up against the wall to look at him. Jeremy catches me out of the corner of his eye, sauntering over to me before taking my chin beneath his fingers. "Think of this as a practice in trust," His breathe ghosts over my face and I can't help but lean into the sturdiness of his touch. "Now, be good and go look around." He lets go of me and I can't help but let out a nervous sigh as I turn back around and head for the dark room in front of me.

I know I should be weirded out, or anxious, maybe, about looking around someone's house alone but I cannot seem to find any sort of nervousness. I have always enjoyed looking in at people's lives, people watching, taking in the vibes they give off. This is just the same, but instead of taking in Jeremy, I get to take in his home. I truly get to see how he lives his life without the filter that he would provide. This is trust, I remind myself, trying to keep my mind on track.

I run my hand on the wall, finding the light switch and flipping it on. The room is bathed in light, revealing a large living room, huge couches in the center facing a fireplace. The overall style looks like it was intended for comfort and tranquility, the grays ands sage green complementing each other nicely. I am overall unimpressed but I do as he says anyway- I wonder around the rest of the bottom floor, finding nothing out of the ordinary before climbing the grand staircase near the front door. There is a hallway going both left and right from the landing at the top of the stairs, a bathroom directly across from me. The walls of the hallway completely covered in photographs and artwork.

I turn left first, peaking into the rooms. A couple of guest bedrooms, decorated just as beautifully as the rest of the home as been. Nothing overly exciting, so I don't wander in. Is that breaking the rules? I wonder, but not long enough to go back.

I get to the bedroom closest to the bathroom. It's painted in a dusty shade of pink, a twin trundle bed placed under the widow, the whole thing covered in a canopy. There are boxes of toys and books against one wall, photos and a lamp set up on the long dresser across from the bed.

I pad into the room carefully, over to the photo on the nightstand. In it, Jeremy holds a beautiful little girl, swinging her around. He looks absolutely full of love. I smile at the photograph, a ping of longing in my chest for a far off time in my life. Setting the photo down carefully I turn to exit the room. I close the door behind me, this new bit of knowledge about his life settling into me.

Jeremy has a daughter. A baby girl. He has a child.

I walk down the hallway, taking notice of the photos hung all over the gallery wall. There are photos of Jeremy and his daughter with other folks I do not recognize. They must be family. As I continue to look, I slowly begin to recognize some people in the photos.

In a small, dark, frame there is a photo of Jeremy with his arms wrapped around a breath taking redhead. Her hair is cut into a short bob and she is dressed clad in a unapologetically tight black body suit. I can't place her in my head, but she absolutely looks familiar.

The frame next to it shows Jeremy with a shorter, dark haired man, a man I would recognize anywhere. They are dressed casually, jeans and leather jackets.

"That's Robert Downey fucking Junior." I mumble to myself, letting my fingers brush over the frame carefully. "I wonder what he's been up to." I laugh to myself. I really need to watch more movies.

I look around at the photos again, hunting for more faces I may recognize. I glance through all of the memories on the wall, taking note of all of the beautiful people that Jeremy has surrounded himself with, a tinge of worry running through my stomach. I push the thought out of my head, wandering down to the end of the hallway.

I open up the double doors to reveal the most beautiful master bedroom. A four-post bed covered in expensive linens is centered on the back wall. There is a fireplace at the wall that faces the bed. A couple of dressers against the far wall, decorated almost like a hotel. The personal touches come out in the photographs and the reading nook that's built into the bay window. Bookshelves are set next to either side of the windows, packed full with books and mementoes.

I walk through the room, opening the closet, taking in the smell of his cologne that hangs in the air. The closet is separated into formal and work wear, more thought put into the organization the deeper I look. I let my fingers run over the lapel of an expensive looking suit jacket, the blue material would no doubt bring out the color of his eyes.

A chill runs through my body as I continue down the side of the closet. There are so many drawers I want to peak in, but I refrain. I pull a blue flannel shirt off of a hanger, pulling it over my body, pulling my hair out from underneath the collar. Once I am fully adjusted into the clothing, I take a look in the mirror. The slightly oversized shirt hiding my body, but it's warm and smells like Jeremy. My eyes draw up to my face, a wide smile across my lips.

I peak at the bathroom as I head back to the hallway. It has a giant walk in shower with multiple shower heads, almost like it is made for more than one person, but they are all pointed to the most central point of the shower. There is also a clawfoot tub and multiple sinks, everything in beautiful serene colors. I take in one last sight of his bedroom, thinking about how nice it would feel to be wrapped up in the sheets of his bed before exiting the room and heading down the stairs. I take both flights, heading straight for the basement.

I wonder deep the basement, which is basically just a recording studio of some sort. It's full of instruments and recording equipment, all much too fancy and complicated for me to dare touch. I look at the wall above his piano, words painted in a beautiful script, "Tell me will the world one day ever be mine?" I read and reread the script before walking up to the piano, letting my fingers run across the cool material of the keys. I fight the urge to clink a couple of them, with absolutely zero knowledge of the piano I feel bad even touching the beautiful instrument.

I sit on the bench, the hand written music propped up on the ledge catching my eye. Everything is filled in with pencil, and I now more than ever wished I could read music. I let my eyes wonder around the room once more, the moody gray of the paint on the walls and the bright chrome of the equipment fill my brain with fantasies of Jeremy. I can see him being a completely different version of himself in this room.

A pile of mail sits atop the closed piano, catching my eye as I stand from the bench. I know I shouldn't look at it, but I can't help but pick up the letter on the top of the pile. It's hand addressed and my eyes scan over his name carefully.

"Renner." I whisper to myself, seeing how to word feels on the tip of my tongue- it's sweet like syrup causing a smile to stick to my lips. I let my finger run over the ink, tracing his name out carefully before placing the letter back on top of the pile.

I wonder back upstairs slowly, letting my mind mull over the information I've collected. I didn't open drawers or any closets besides the one in the master bedroom, which aids in the lack of guilt I feel about the whole situation.

The smell of eggs and bacon hits me when I get to the entrance of the kitchen.

"Something smells good." I smile, walking up behind him, wrapping my arms around his middle.

"I figured since it's basically the morning." He gestures to the pan with a shrug.

I move away, taking my spot up on the bar top, watching as he plates the food for us. He hands me a plate with a small smile. I take it, shoving a whole piece of bacon in my mouth without a thought.

Jeremy erupts in laughter, taking a bite of the eggs on his plate.

"Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Renner?" I question, shoving another slice of bacon in my mouth. He just cocks an eyebrow at me. His eyes wander over me as if he is drinking me in, every last detail of the sight satiating a thirst for which there was no other cure.

"You're just too damn cute." He finally speaks, watching me shovel a forkful of eggs into my mouth. I smile my best closed lip smile at him, my eyes squinting at the corners. "So, did you see anything that caught your eye? Or did you just read my mail and steal my shirt? That's a federal offence you know. I could have you arrested for that."

"Which one?" I question, shoving more of the food into my mouth. "The reading of your mail or the stealing?" He erupts into a laugh again, a smile growing on my lips.

"Definitely the mail thing. I am pretty sure the stealing is a state issue." He points at me with the tines of his fork. I don't even bother to ask how he knows I got his name from his mail, it just seems to lack importance in this moment.

"To be fair, I didn't actually read the mail, just the envelope, and as for the shirt, well, I plead the fifth." I counter back before taking a sip of my water.

"You are still wearing the evidence." Jeremy is laughing full force through the sentences now, the corners of his eyes crinkling to make space for the joy of his smile. My hands find the soft fabric of his shirt that is wrapped around my body, a tingle of warmth spreading through my chest.

"You know what, you're right. So, if anything I say can and will be used against me in the court of law, maybe I should just start screaming your name now." I wink at him, still munching away on the bacon. His expression falters for a moment, the joy in his eyes morphing into a sort of awe before they darken. He sets his plate down on the island before leaning back against it, hands finding a home at either one of his sides. I set my plate down to mirror him, sitting up a bit straighter as if the motion would birth confidence to swim beneath my skin instead of the anxiety stained excitement that seems to be festering there instead.

"All in due time, beautiful, all in due time," His voice is no louder than a whisper, "Now, what did you think of the house? Find anything interesting?" I search over his features trying to read into his thoughts through the expression he wears. I think over the details of his home in my mind carefully, considering everything.

"How long have you lived here?" I counter back, leaning towards him. He doesn't falter at my words, remaining neutral.

"Not long, less than a year, why?" He questions, attempting to find the relevancy of the information.

"Your home feels pretty impersonal. Don't get me wrong, it is beautiful, but there was very little evidence to show that you actually live here and enjoy it. There is a handful of things that actually felt like a there was a soul within this place, but it's mostly just Architectural Digest up in here." I lay my thoughts out on the table for him to consider. His facial expression is neutral, leaning almost towards bitchy which causes a spark of anxiety to rocket through me, my chest catching ablaze like a match thrown into dry grass.

Jeremy pulls a deep breath into his lungs, his chest expanding, pulling his tee-shirt taught against the muscles of his broad chest. I bite at my lip, teeth digging into the tender flesh a bit too hard as I try and find a way to suck back in all of the words I just let fall out of my face. Then, Jeremy laughs, big and bold, to the point where he has to grip the countertop for stability.

I can feel my face contort into a strange expression as I watch the display before me. I open and close my mouth, words failing to muster. Jeremy finally looks up at me after a few moments as he wipes a few stray tears from his cheek with the back of his hand.

"You are such a breath of fresh air, you know that?" His words come out more as a statement than as a question. I give him a questioning look leaning towards him a bit more. "Is there anything you did like?"

I puff out my cheeks a bit, thinking over his question. It sorta feels like a genuine question disguised as a trap. I fight with myself over it for a moment before speaking.

"There was two things," I state, looking down at the floor. I feel that if I meet his gaze in this moment I may just cease to exist. I drum my fingers on my thigh, nervous energy looking for any way to escape me. "I liked the reading nook in your bedroom, and I like the wall scripture."

"Wall scripture?" He questions. I pull my eyes back up to meet his.

"Yeah, you know, the song lyrics. The one's you've got painted over your piano?" I explain, my hands gesturing as I speak. "I think you are a little bit obsessed with that one artist though. We should really expand your music taste."

"Can one really be obsessed with themselves?" Jeremy looks at me, cocking his head to the side. I just close my eyes, letting out a deep breathe in response to him. If he is going to keep this whole thing going, I might as well have a little fun with it. I turn my eyes up to meet his, a sweet expression falling over my features.

"I think that's called 'narcissism' Jer, you know, after Narcissus, the dude who fell in love with his own reflection." I slide off the counter, grabbing both of our used plates and place them into the sink. "He was so obsessed that he drowned himself, and flowers that bare his name began to grow where he once laid on the riverbank."

I try and take control of the situation by pulling his attention, in both story and stance. I readjust the way my hair falls over my shoulders before pulling at the fabric of his shirt, pulling it a bit tighter around my body. My lower lip finds confines between my teeth as I smirk at him.

"This is all very sexy, I must admit," Jeremey speaks as I turn back to face him. "I like you in my clothes," He gestures up and down the length of my body with a curved finger a shallow attempt at distracting me. I step closer to him, less than an arms length away now, letting my heart lead before my head.

"You want to know the kicker of it all?" I ask, slowly inching towards him. He nods at me. "The bulbs of the Narcissus plant are poisonous, ever cementing the idea that loving oneself too much will in fact kill you."

He reaches out, hand ghosting its way up my arm before it comes to a stop on the side of my face. He carefully tucks a piece of hair behind my ear before cupping my cheek, running his thumb over my lips.

"If you keep looking at me like that, it might kill me before anything else can." He lets his other hand make home of my hip, his fingertips pressing into it.

"That's Medusa," I whisper, leaning towards him. I lift my chin up, looking at him deep in the eyes. A smile cracks across his lips. I ghost my lips across his, a light pinprick blush waxing across my skin.

"I thought she was cursed." He rubs the side of my face gently and I can't help but lean into his touch.

"Some say it was a curse, others say it was a gift. After she was raped, she was given the power to turn a man to stone with a single look," Jeremy looks at me tentatively, "I think it was a gift of protection, now no man could ever harm her again." My words are a whisper now, my eyes closed.

"It must be lonely, to live a life like that," Jeremy's hushed tone warms my body, the skin beneath his hands burning at his touch.

"It is," Is all I manage to say before I lean my head back a bit more before pressing my lips to his. He slots his lips between my own, sucking on my bottom lip gently. I can still feel the marks I left in it earlier as he runs the tip of his tongue across the divots of my flesh, soothing the skin. He pulls away, brushing his nose against my own.

"Which story is your favorite?" He asks, breathe ghosting over me.

"I have two," I mumble, letting my hands grip onto the fabric of his shirt.

"Of course you do," He chuckles lightly, "Why don't you let me take you upstairs and you can tell me all about them." I nod, a small smile creeping its way onto my face. He pulls me behind him, up the stairs and down to his bedroom. He turns on the fireplace with the flick of a switch and I watch as it roars to life. Jeremy closes the door behind us, grabbing my wrist as I try and walk further into the room. He cages me against the doorframe, forearms pressed against the door on the sides of my shoulders. I grab ahold of his belt by the buckle, pulling him into me, chest to chest.

"Your glow would make Icarus blush," I bring a hand up to trace my fingers over Jeremy's jawline, the slight stubble on his chin rough against my knuckles. He furrows his brow at my comment, a look of confusion falling over his features.

"Icarus; his's one of my favorite stories," I sough, letting my fingers run through his short hair. Jeremy takes my waist in his hands, pressing delicately into my frame. He dips his head, lips connecting to the plain of my neck. He presses sodden kisses to the heat of my skin.

"Tell. Me. More," He punctuates each word with the entreat of his lips.

"Icarus and his father, Daedalus were being punished for helping a man escape the labyrinth," Jeremy's hands run over the expanses of my body, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. "But Daedalus was an architect, and he built wings for Icarus and himself so that they could fly away from their imprisonment."

Jeremy hums, lips latching themselves to a tender spot in my neck just below my jaw bone. He sucks gently on the pulse point making a small whimper fall from my lips.

"When they went to fly, Daedalus warned his son that the heavy waters of the ocean would weigh him down, so he had to fly high enough as not to have the dampness of the ocean air pull him down to the waves. He also couldn't fly too high or the wax holding his wings together would melt, causing him to fall to the depths of the ocean." My words come out breathy and strained as Jeremy continues to taste the bare skin of my neck. He brings his hands down to my belt, pulling the leather strap back, the buckle opening with a metallic clink.

"In my favorite retelling," I dig my hands under the hem of his shirt, nails skimming over the sensitive skin of his hipbones. "Icarus flies too close to the sun, just to bask in the warmth, and as the wax melts and he begins his quick decent towards the churning ocean below, he bellows a laugh of pure joy."

Jeremy pulls away from me, pulling my belt from the loops of my jeans, letting it fall from his hands onto the floor.

"He laughs?" He questions, looking into my eyes with childlike curiosity. I run my hands up, lifting his shirt to expose his midriff. The taught muscles flex lightly beneath my touch.

"He laughs." I nod, sinking my hands further into his sides, raking my fingers down slowly.

Jeremy pulls me from the door, turning us around as he guides me backwards. We step slowly, in tune with each other. We continue moving, light touches and lustful looks exchanged between us. I back into the side of his bed and Jeremy's hands find my hips, lifting me up onto the tall mattress before slotting himself between my knees again. I feel a sort of power flow through my veins when he stands here with me like this; almost like he has approached an alter to pray, to worship, and I am on the receiving end- God Bless.

He reaches up to grab the back of the collar of his shirt before swiftly pulling it over his head. He discards the fabric on the floor and my self control goes with it. I let my eyes wander over his body as I pull my bottom lip into my mouth. I rake my teeth over my lip carefully, taking in each curve and dip of his body. His happy trail draws my eyes from the defined muscles of his stomach down to the low hanging waistband of his jeans.

"Why Icarus?" He questions, his fingers buried into the curls at the nape of my neck. I lean my head back against the pressure of his fingertips, wading in the pleasure of their presence. He tilts my head backwards with a taught pull at my hair, my jaw going agape as I stare up through my lashes into his foreboding eyes.

"Because I too have destroyed myself for a moment of pure bliss," I pull Jeremy down to my level by the neck, letting our lips brush together, teasing the rough nature of our grasps with honey like softness. "And I laughed the whole time."

We share sickly sweet smiles, eyes half lidded and full of lust. There is a buzz of electricity between us, ebbing and flowing, boxing us in then drowning us. I run my hands up his stomach, watching as his head dips back. A languish breathe shudders through his body, his attempt to conceal it fails as a groan escapes from the prison of his throat. His grip on my hair loosens, his hands running down my shoulders with little pressure.

I slide the Jeremy's stolen shirt from my frame, holding it out and letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor. Jeremy's hands dip beneath the waistband of my jeans, rooting around for the hem of my tucked in shirt. He pulls it over my head carefully, the fabric grazing over my skin. The cool air of the room causes a shiver to run through my spine, goosebumps spreading themselves over my skin; Jeremy's fingertips read them like brail. "I want you, I want you, I want you," they read, over and over again. The callouses of his hands leaving pinprick notions of where his hands once rested. The more his hands roam over me, the more the words change from 'I want' to 'I need' and ,my growing need for him is the one thing I have been sure about in a long time.

I pull at the button on Jeremy's jeans, the fabric opening as I pull the button through. The zipper slips down easily with a gentle tug, the teeth parting to reveal a pair of dark boxers beneath. The jeans sit wide on Jeremy's hips now, slackened. He gather's my hair that hangs loosely around my shoulders, pulling it back, holding it with a relaxed grip at the nape of my neck.

The confidence that travels through my veins prompts me as I push his hip backwards, guiding him to take a step back. I slip down to my knees in front of him, libertine and intrepid. He takes in my movements, eyes heavy but focused as I settle at his feet. I look up to meet his eyes, my hands clutching his waistband as I wait for his go ahead, thumbs rubbing into the fabric. We sit like this for a few moments, the beat of my heart tracking the time as his lust sunk gaze washes over every inch of my body. I know by the end of this encounter the only thing that will be left of me will be cherry-sour soaked daydreams and the feeling of the weight of him on my tongue- I am impatient.

"Jer?" I murmur, pulling lightly on his jeans. His erection grows, pulsing, untouched beneath the fabric of his boxers. His eyes meet mine and he takes my chin between this finger and thumb, tilting my head back further. If looks could kill this one would surely have left me lifeless.

"You look," Jeremy licks at his lips, his chest heaving slightly, "Ethereal, down on your knees like that for me," His hands frame my skull, one hand under my chin while the other continues to hold back my hair. He tests his grip through my locks with a few pulses of his wrist, pulling and twisting from the root, earning a well sounding moan from me. I look up at him through the thickness of my eyelashes, his figure slightly obscured. "Keep going, Angel, let me see how pretty you are while you swallow me."

He lets go of my chin, allowing me to look as I pull his jeans down around the bulk of his thighs, letting them pool around his knees. I reach back up to his pull his boxers down, exposing him to me. His penis stand erect, tip facing upwards towards his stomach. I tease the vein on the underside with a brush of my thumb before wrapping my hand around the girth towards the base, tilting the head down to meet my lips. I am sure there is some sort of metaphor for the way I touch him, or the way his body reactions under my touch but the only thing I can seem to conjure up is the bloom of pride that takes over my chest as he moans. I lick a wide stripe over the head as I watch Jeremy's reaction. He wraps his free hand through my hair, holding my head steady, or maybe he is holding himself steady with the way he presses the pads of his fingertips into my skin.

I lean forward a bit, taking the first inch of him into my mouth, swirling my tongue around him. He lets out a sweltering moan, pulling tighter on my hair with the twisting of his wrist. I pump him gently, sinking more of his length into my mouth as I go, tantalizingly slow but steady in my motion.

I sink down till my lips meet my hand, now only a fist length away from completely devouring him. I squeeze my hand, hollowing out my cheeks as I pull back, earning another wonton moan from Jeremy. His head as fallen back now, eyes screwed shut as pleasure fills his body. He tries to push his hips forward a bit to hurry my movements, but I pull back a bit causing him to groan. I begin to slip his member in and out of my mouth as I pump his length with my hand. With each motion I can feel him pulse beneath me, unraveling at my touch.

Maybe this is what Icarus felt like, too close to the sun, burning wax dripping marred trails into his skin, smoldering, the sky smelling like sulfur, sex, and charred flesh.

I would burn from the inside out to feel this alive again.

"Oh my god," He utters above me as I pull my hand away, allowing him to fully push his length between my lips and down to the back of my throat. I fight a bit, trying to keep from gagging as I pull back with hollowed cheeks before repeating the movement all of again, again, again. Jeremy's strong hands pull on my hair, pulling me back away from him body, the head of his dick escaping my mouth with a pop. He stands above me, staring down, wrestling a strangled breathe from his lungs. His hands are still homed in the tangles of my curls, the tendrils wrapped around his digits like roots.

"Is everything okay?" I question after a few beats, my hands finding purchase on his calves. I wrestle with the uneasy feeling that has begun to flood my stomach, worry slowly leaking in, level rising and taking over my chest cavity. I keep my touch light, almost tender, treading awkwardly into an unknown feeling. Jeremy just looks at me for another second, the anxiety moving from swimming to storming in my stomach. Then a lummox of a laugh escapes him as he drops to his knees in front of me.

"Everything is absolutely okay," He pulls me against his chest, cupping my cheek with one hand while the other traces a line down my spine. "I just plan on making this last, and that sinful mouth of yours has other ideas." I let out a ragged breathe trying to banish all of the negative feelings from my body, draining the queasiness and self doubt with it. He rubs my cheek gently with his thumb, the light touches completely juxtaposing the firmness of his erection against my stomach. "Shall we continue?"

I nod, the corners of my mouth twitching up into a small smile. "Yes, please."

He runs his hand around my back, taking the closure of my bra between his skilled fingers, popping it open with a flick of the wrist. The straps loosen around my shoulders and he pulls them off carefully, fingertips barely touching my skin. The fabric falls away to reveal the horizontal barbells that pierce my nipples, the stones glittering brightly in the sizzling glow of the firelight.

I shouldn't be surprised be the experience Jeremy seems to operate with, but the way he is able to set the lightest fingerprints into my skin and still make my head spin has me at a loss for words. Hell, I am at a loss for everything under is touch, but I can't find it in me to care.

Jeremy's eyes lock on the jewelry in my nipples, examining the bars carefully. He lets his fingertips just ghost over the fullness of my breast, the other hand coming up to grip my ribs to steady my body. He runs his thumb over the peak of my nipple before barely pressing the jewel of the bar, watching it pull at the skin of my nipple carefully. The tingling feeling of the pull of the jewelry draws a small gasp from my lips.

"Just when I decide you can't get any better, you surprise me with something like this," Jeremy praises, running his thumb over my erect nipple again. My arousal is pooling in my panties, each touch, each tease, drawing a new sense of longing out of me.

The eros coursing through my body leaves me huffing graveled breathes, my mind trying to focus but the only thing it manages to find are the intense arousal between my thighs, sitting dense in my core; and the way his fingers feather over my skin, and it's a kindness.

Jeremy leans in close to my ear, "Why don't we get you out of those jeans, huh?" He runs his tongue over the pierced shell of my ear as his hands dip to unfasten my jeans. Each button he pulls open causes a jolt of electricity to run through my veins, anticipation burning low in my stomach. He pushes up on my hips a bit, signaling for me to stand. Once I get to my feet he pulls my jeans off of me in one swift movement before letting them fall into the ever growing pile on the floor.

He stands in front me of, pulling his jeans and boxers from his body. He pulls on the elastic of my panties, humming contently to himself. He takes my hips again as he kneels before me, spinning me around towards the mattress. My hands find the soft fabric of the sheets as Jeremy begins to leave a trail of elysian kisses up the back of my thigh.

If I could see myself composed the way his hands make me feel, blazing and poisonous and beautiful, they would have to name a flower after me too, the soft ripples of the bedsheets calling to me like an open spring calls to the parched.

"Your ass looks phenomenal in these, Bub," Jeremy traces the lace trim of my soddened panties with the tip of his nose before nibbling the fullness of my ass cheek, sinking his teeth into the flesh. He runs his hand up my spine, pushing me chest first onto the mattress. He guides my feet apart before slotting his knee between them. "Tell me something, Angel," He continues to pepper kisses over my backside before trailing up to my lower back with the tip of his tongue.

"Yes, Jeremy?" I ask, breathless. He stirs up feelings in my body I have only read about. The service between us morphing into a deep, stocked fire, crackling burning embers into the air. He slips his fingers beneath the elastic, tugging the fabric down my body. I step out of them and he throws them to the side. Fingertips trail up the inside of my leg as he slots his knee back between my feet.

"Are you going to be good for me?" His voice is liquid sugar pooling in my stomach.

"Yes," I manage, words catching in my throat has his fingertips pass the crest of my knee and continue north. "Yes, Sir, I am."

"Good," He clears his throat a bit, "Now get up on the bed for me, Bub,"

I step forward before crawling up into the bed, swaying my hips to tease him. He keeps his eyes trained on me from the floor as I turn around, spreading my legs wide, displaying myself just for him. He rolls his eyes back, head dipping with it as if the weight of his lust hangs from his neck, pulling him backwards. He falls deeper into the floor, sinking and unbothered by it; his eyeline keeps drifting back to me, lazily moving over the curves of my body and I swear I can feel the trial they leave. I look at him, contemplation, no, struggle written lightly into his features as he continues to weave his gaze around my figure.

"Jer?" I try, my stance faltering in confidence at his lack of movement. I begin to fold in on myself, closing my legs slowly as I bring my hands up to cover my upper half.

"No, no, no," He stops me, his words barely a whisper as he steps up to me, hands resting on my knees. A mixtures of confusion, self consciousness and the lust mix into a noxious mixture, clouding my senses. "I'm sorry for staring, you're just so," He rubs my skin carefully, rough fingertips scraping over my sensitive skin. "You're so, everything. I can't get over how beautiful you are. I just can't stop looking. Are you okay if we keep going?" I voice a hushed but enthusiastic 'yes' as his words wash over me, my muscles further relaxing beneath his touch as I fall back onto the mattress. I let him open my legs again, allowing him to lean into my body.

"I'm not going to lie to you, it's been a while, so I don't know how long this is going to last," He lets out an anxious chuckle as he runs a hand through his hair. A small laugh escapes me before I can even think. I crave him like the moon craves the waves, his eyes like riptides, unrelenting but untouching, unsatisfying.

"Jer, it's been a long damn time for me too, and if you don't get to it, I may simply pass away right here from anticipation alone." With that, he hooks his left arm around my leg, pulling me up by the knee so I am pressed against him.

"We can't have that, now can we?" He winks, punctuating a grind. Star bursts of ecstasy crawls under my skin throughout my whole body as he grazes against my clit, pulling a moan from my lips. He positions himself tactfully before pushing in and praises leave his lips as the tip of his cock begins to stretch me out with a pleasurable sting.

"God, you look perfect just like this, you're doing so good for me, Angel," He praises, pushing further into me as he speaks. He keeps me at the edge of the bed just like this, bottomed out, unmoving as he warms his cock inside of me. I squirm a bit, begging for any sort of movement. "Fucking gorgeous." He moves to my clit, brushing over it as he rocks his hips with a barely there movement. I can't help but clench around him at the motion, the pleasure from his thumb thrumming through me.

"Please, Jer, I am begging you. Fuck me, I need you to fuck me, please." A low groan leaves his lips at my words as he bites at his lip. Jeremy begins to pull his length out before pushing back in, setting up a blissful pace as he finally begins to fuck me. I moan as the movements, feeling every thrust building to an orgasm.

In this moment everything shifts- what was once all anticipation and actualization has formed into a hunger, unrelenting and messy. I was never meant to be clean, poised or assured. The sheer figment of my soul has always yearned to be unmade- being under his hands was nothing but benediction.

He leans over me, pushing my knees closer to my head which allows him to push himself deeper into my folds as he sucks a strawberry bruised mark into my collarbone, spit stained and sore to the touch. As he pulls away from me, he pulls out, grabbing ahold of my legs and thrusting them to the side. He positions me so I am laying partially on my side, easing off of my back, allowing me to look him in his eyes as he thrusts back into me, angled deeper. My closed legs making everything feel tighter, each drag of his cock bringing me closer and closer.

I don't know if my strangled groans or Jeremy's breathe covered curses come first but he fuck me harder and I am thankful.

"Just like that," I manage, breathe strangled in my throat, "I'm so close, keep going, fuck yes, just like that," Jeremy doesn't falter until I spasm around him, his thrusts going uneven and ragged.

"I am so close, beautiful, so close." I push him back at his words, a shocked look striking over his features before I move to throw myself at his feet. His confusion melts as I take his cock into my mouth again, pumping him with my hand as I swirl my tongue around his tip.

Icarus was right to have flown, to have tasted the rays of sunlight with his own tongue, but I doubt they would've tasted as ambrosian as this.

He comes with a gruff moan, spilling himself down my throat. I pump him through his orgasm, taking every drop of him before I finally release my grasp. He gasps over me and I swallow.

"Holy fuck." Are the only two words he can manage as he looks down at me. He sways a little as the aftershocks of his orgasm rock through his body and I pull him down to the floor with me, taking his lips with mine. He wraps his hands into my hair; mine wandering freely over the expanses of his figure.

When he finally pulls back, we share sickly sweet smiles, not from lust but from pure, self indulgent exhaustion. We take each other in, just like this, sweat sticky and cum sweet, our bodies fitting together like the closure of a locket, storing this memory between us. A memento.

"I have a possible moment ruining question," I finally speak, my head resting in the crook of his neck as he plays with my hair. My knees are sore from the hard floor beneath me, satiny static beginning to move through my legs as the loss of feeling takes over.

"What is it?" He tenses a bit under me but doesn't falter.

"Why the fuck is there a photo of you and Robert Downey Jr. hanging in your hallway?" I ask, not bothering to move to meet his eyes. He rumbles beneath me, beginning low before morphing into a full belly laugh. When I pull back, Jeremy is trying to catch his breath, wiping a tear from his eye. "What's so funny?" I question, quirking an eyebrow. My words just send him into another fit of laughter.

"So you know who he is?" He retorts, words bumbling over his laughter.

"Of course I do!" I exclaim, and the look on Jeremy's face is priceless.

"God, you are so totally oblivious to a whole part of his career aren't you?" He asks, more to the room than to me specifically. "What's the last movie of his you saw?"

I think over his question, trying to recall anything recent. "I think it was Zodiac, you know, with Mark Ruffalo?"

"Oh for fucks sake." He runs a hand down his face, his harsh words bathed in humor.

"What is it this time?!" I shove his shoulder playfully.

"That movie came out in like, 2007? 2008 maybe?" He informs me. He takes my face gently in his hands, "And what I am about to tell you is one hundred precent true, okay?" I nod beneath his grasp. "Robert, Mark, and I have made three movies together since 2012, and like a bunch of other movies with the same group of people." He rambles, staring straight into my eyes as if he is trying to pass all of his knowledge through his gaze. I grin a bit, my cheeks squished between his hands.

"I thought you said you made music." I note, feeling a bit of apprehension tangle in my chest.

"I do." He chuckles, dropping his hands from my face to grab my hands in his. "But we made the goddamn Avengers! Earth's mightiest heroes!"

"I am so happy for you?" My words come out as a question, my eyebrows furrowing.

"Holy fuck, have you not seen a single one of the Marvel movies?" His question is mock serious but overflowing with intrigue.

"I think I saw one with Tobey Maguire?" I tell him with a shrug.

"That is only kind of right." He laughs. "You really have gotta see more movies, Jesus Christ." He pushes himself from the floor before reaching down to help me to my feet. I stumble a bit, the bee sting sensation rousing throughout my legs. "Get in bed, we will talk about your lack of movie knowledge more tomorrow."

I can't help but laugh as I bury myself beneath the cool sheets of his bed, my body aching but glad to be off of the hard floor. Jeremy slips in beside me before pulling my body flush against his body, wrapping me in a warm embrace.

The events of the night wash over me in a haze, salt soaked and pleading. The grief that has held me prisoner over the past few months now nothing more than a slight itch in my chest. I don't think of it now, in this moment, wrapped up in Jeremy's strong arms. My body now thoroughly worked over and satiated thrums with a new feeling, more love than loss, more present than absent; chosen.

Maybe that's the way it's supposed to be, healing that is, maybe not all at once, but sudden. The drowning feeling easing into a floating, a surviving that finally breaks through into actually living. It's moments like these that make me feel alive, just the way I am supposed to. Not bound by what is no longer here or the waiting for something to exist, there just is- truly present and unbothered by the notion of inexistence.

"Goodnight beautiful," He whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips.

"Goodnight, Pretty Boy." I sigh, exhaustion clouding over my senses, buzzing quietly beneath my skin.

He is asleep in mere moments as my mind stumbles back to my other favorite tale, Orpheus and Euridice. When Euridice was lost to the underworld, Orpheus risked everything to find her, the power of his music guiding him. Their only way to escape the underworld was to leave together, her behind him. He must never turn around to be sure she was still there, otherwise they'd be lost to each other forever. The music, his music, guided her, even if she didn't know him by face or by form.

Her soul knew him- and that was enough.

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