#Tony x Coffin | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

brunchable · 19 days

Text

LAZARUS SERUM || Steve Rogers x Enhanced!FReader

FINAL

Part One | Part Two | Part Three Words: 10.4K Themes: Drama, Lovers to Enemies, Enemies to Lovers. Warning: Nothing really? Sneak Peak: “I can’t believe they had this,” he says, his voice tinged with nostalgia as he carefully places the vinyl of ‘You Belong to Me’ by Jo Stafford on the turntable. The record crackles softly as the needle touches down, and soon, the sultry, smooth sound of a saxophone fills the room. A/N: This is probably the most romantic thing I've ever written, to me at least. Up to you if you want to hear the Song played in this story. Anyways Last Part, definitely enjoyed giving some life into this, I will miss this story now that it's over. Brb I'm going to cry.

Tags: @haruvalentine4321@strepsils123@realifelamb@needsleep3000@vicmc624@i-can-do-this-all-dayy@mrs-jjmaybank @nesnejwritings @feelinthefic@niffala@fantasyfootballchampion@thefandomplace @bellajean9-blog

Steve could hardly bring himself to watch as they treated your body with a clinical detachment that made his chest tighten. He knew this was protocol—you were government property now, subject to the rigorous examination and eventual autopsy that all enhanced individuals faced in death. Despite the protocol, the medical team was ordered to delay the autopsy until all Hydra officials are cleared out.

Steve sat by your side, holding your hand. It was cold now, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go. The room was filled with the faint beeping of machines monitoring nothing at all. They were just there, another part of the procedure, keeping track of a body that showed no signs of life.

He barely left the room, and when he did, it was only because someone—Natasha, Tony, or Sam—forced him to. He didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, just sat there, his mind replaying the events that had led them to this point. The sound of Pierce pressing that button echoed in his head, a constant reminder of what had been lost.

Days passed, each one blurring into the next. The doctors kept their vigil, waiting for the required period to pass before they could begin the autopsy. For Steve, those days felt like an eternity. He refused to leave your side, clutching your cold hand as if it was the only thing anchoring him to reality. He whispered to you words that even he wasn’t sure he believed—words of love, of regret, of apologies for not being able to save you.

Natasha checked on Steve regularly, bringing him food that often went untouched. Tony lingered at the door more often than not, wanting to offer comfort but unsure of how to bridge the growing chasm of grief that separated Steve from the rest of the world. Sam tried to talk to him, tried to get him to rest, but Steve was a statue.

On the fourth day, the medical team began to prepare for the inevitable. The necessary observations had been made, and there was no sign of any changes. The protocol was clear—they would move forward with the autopsy.

Steve felt the weight of the world pressing down on him as he overheard the quiet conversation between two of the doctors at the door, discussing the next steps. It was like the final nail in a coffin that had been closing around him for days.

He had known this was coming, but knowing didn’t make it any easier. The thought of them cutting into you, of them treating your body like just another subject in their endless quest for knowledge, made something inside him twist painfully. But he didn’t stop them. He couldn’t. This was beyond him now, beyond anything he could control.

Finally, the lead doctor approached Steve, her expression one of professional sympathy. “Captain Rogers,” she began, her voice gentle, “we need to start the procedure. We’ll take care of her… with the utmost respect.”

Steve nodded numbly, his throat too tight to form words. He stood up slowly, his legs heavy as if they were made of lead, and leaned down to press a final kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against her cold skin for a moment longer than necessary.

“I love you,” he whispered.

No answer.

With a heavy heart, Steve turned and walked out of the isolation room, the door closing softly behind him. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t. Every step felt like an insurmountable task, his body weighed down by a grief so profound that it was all he could do to keep moving.

As the door sealed shut, the doctors began their work, the room’s sterile lights flickering as the gravity of the situation settled over them like a shroud.

Outside, Steve leaned against the wall, the sterile corridor around him a blur. He felt Natasha’s presence beside him, her hand gently resting on his arm, offering silent support. But there were no words that could heal this wound, no comfort that could ease the pain of losing you. . .for real.

Inside the room, the lead doctor took a deep breath and steadied her hand as she reached for the scalpel. The cold metal glinted under the sterile lights as she positioned it above your chest. The other doctors stood ready, watching closely, their expressions grim behind their surgical masks.

With a calm, steady motion, the doctor pressed the scalpel down, expecting the blade to cut through the skin with ease. But instead of the familiar sensation of metal slicing flesh, the blade stopped short, bending as if it had struck something impossibly hard.

“What the—?” the doctor gasped, her eyes widening in shock as she lifted the scalpel. She examined it closely, her heart pounding in her chest. The blade, which should have cut cleanly, was bent at an unnatural angle, as if it had been pressed against solid steel instead of skin.

The room went still, a heavy silence descending as the other doctors leaned in, trying to make sense of what they had just witnessed.

“What happened?” one of the nurses asked.

“I don’t know,” the lead doctor replied, her voice unsteady. She cautiously reached out, placing her hand on your chest, feeling for any sign of movement, of life. The skin beneath her fingers was cold and unmoving. Before she could pull her hand away, you grabbed her wrist, your eyes snapped open, wide and unseeing, and you drew in a sharp, ragged breath.

“AHHHH!” The lead doctor jumped back with a scream, dropping the bent scalpel as she stumbled into a tray of instruments, sending them clattering to the floor.

The other doctors recoiled in shock, their faces pale with disbelief as they watched your chest rise and fall, your breaths shallow and erratic.

Your eyes were wild and unfocused, your mind struggling to make sense of what was happening. Your body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending alive with a burning sensation that tore through you. You tried to move, to sit up, but your limbs feel heavy, uncooperative.

Outside, Steve heard the commotion and felt his heart leap into his throat. He pushed the door open, his breath catching in his chest as he saw you—alive, gasping for air.

“Y/N!” Steve shouted, rushing to your side. He reached out, his hand trembling as he tried to steady you, to offer some comfort. But you flinched at his touch, recoiling as if his hand had burned you.

When you looked at him, there was no relief—only confusion and fear. You yanked your hand out of his grasp, your body tensing as you scrambled to push yourself up. Your movements were jerky, uncoordinated, survival instinct kicking in.

“Where… where am I?” you gasped, your voice a mixture of confusion and alarm. “What’s happening? Steve—what did you do?”

Steve’s heart sank. He knew the signs; the serum had done more than just bring you back to life—it had reset your mind, made you relive old traumas. To you, it was as if the breakup had just happened, and the trust you had rebuilt was shattered once again.

“Y/N, it’s okay,” Steve said gently, holding out his hands in a placating gesture. “You’re safe. I’m not going to hurt you.”

But his words only seemed to fuel your confusion.

“Stay back, asshole!” you shouted, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear. Your eyes darted around the room, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings, the machines, the sterile environment. You felt trapped, cornered.

Before Steve could react, you launched yourself at him, your movements quick but disoriented. You swung at him, your fists connecting with surprising force as you fought to defend yourself from what you perceived as a threat. Steve caught your wrists, trying to restrain you without hurting you, but your strength was fueled by the fear coursing through you.

“Y/N, stop!” Steve pleaded, his voice strained as he struggled to hold you back. “I’m not going to hurt you! Please, just listen to me!”

But you were beyond reason. The serum had done its work too well, resetting you to a time when trust had been shattered and your emotions were raw. To you, Steve was the enemy, the one who had broken your heart. You fought with everything you had, your punches wild but powerful, driven by your fresh emotions.

Steve didn’t fight back, only defended himself, his heart jumping with every strike you landed.

“Y/N, please,” he said, his voice cracking as he managed to pin your arms down, his face inches from yours. “I’m not your enemy. You’re confused… the serum… it did something to you. But I’m here to help. I’m here for you.”

You continued to struggle. Desperate to make you stop, to get through to you, Steve did the only thing he could think of. He leaned in and possessed your lips with his soft ones, pouring all of his emotions into the kiss—his love, his regret, his longing. Steve kissed you like he was drowning and needed the air.

Your eyes widened in shock, your naked body stiffening as Steve took you by surprise. For a moment, you fought against it, your mind screaming at you to pull away. But the intensity of the kiss, the raw emotion behind it, started to break through the fog of confusion. Your struggles began to weaken, your fists unclenching as you slowly stopped fighting.

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to feel the kiss, the familiar warmth of his lips on yours, and the emotions it stirred within you. The walls you had built up began to crack, and you leaned into him, letting your guard down.

But just as quickly, the reality of the fractured relationship hit you like a freight train. The trust he had broken, the pain he had caused—it all came rushing back. Your eyes snapped open, and a surge of anger flared within you.

With a burst of strength, you shoved Steve back, your eyes blazing with fury.

“This is for breaking my heart!” you hissed, driving your knee into his crotch with brutal force.

Steve gasped, doubling over in pain, but before he could react, you struck again, your voice laced with venom.

“And this is for making promises you can't keep.” you delivered a second, equally vicious kick, sending him to the ground.

Steve collapsed, clutching his midsection, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he tried to recover from the blows. He looked up at you, face red in terrible pain.

“Y/N… I’m sorry…”

You stood over him, your chest heaving with exertion and emotion, but your resolve wavered. You had wanted to hurt him, to make him feel the pain he had caused you, but seeing him like this, the man you still loved despite everything, made you falter.

You took a shaky step back, your anger beginning to ebb, replaced by confusion and exhaustion. Your head was spinning, the effects of the serum still clouding your mind, making it hard to think straight.

Steve slowly pushed himself up, wincing with every movement, but he didn’t take his eyes off you. He could see the conflict in your eyes, the struggle between your anger and the love you had once shared. He knew he deserved every bit of your wrath, but it didn’t change the fact that he needed to reach you, to help you through this.

“Y/N…” he started, his voice soft, filled with regret. “I know I hurt you. And I’m so sorry. But I’m not going to give up on you. I’m here now, and I’m not leaving.”

× × × ×

Tony Stark wasn’t exactly sure what to expect when he made his way to the medical wing of the Compound. Ever since your death, the atmosphere had been oppressively heavy, with Steve barely leaving your side. The team was on edge, everyone handling their grief in their own way. But Tony knew something had changed—he had caught wind of the commotion in the medical bay, and his curiosity, mixed with concern, got the better of him.

As he approached the door to the room where you were being kept, Tony could hear the faint sounds of a struggle—a thud, followed by muffled voices. His brows furrowed in concern. Steve had been in there for days, practically refusing to move, and now…what the hell was going on?

He quickened his pace, just in time to hear your voice, filled with unresolved anger, though it was shaky and weak. Tony couldn’t make out the words, but the tone was unmistakable—this was bad.

Tony reached the doorway just as your knee drove into Steve’s crotch with brutal force. The sight made him stop in his tracks, eyes wide as Steve crumpled to the floor, clutching himself in obvious pain.

“HOLY SHIT,” Tony blurted out, his voice a mix of shock and disbelief. He had seen a lot in his time as Iron Man, but this…this was something else. He instinctively stepped back, half-expecting to need to intervene, but also too stunned to fully process what was happening.

Before Tony could react further, other medical staff rushed into the room, alerted by the commotion. They immediately moved toward you, trying to cover your naked body. You were visibly disoriented, your chest heaving with exertion. “Ma’am, please, you need to stay calm,” one of the nurses said gently, trying to approach you with caution. “We’re here to help you.”

But you, still caught in the confusion of your reset mind, saw the medics as another threat.

“Stay away from me!” you shouted. As one of the nurses reached out to check your vitals, you ripped off the telemetry wires attached to you, the monitors emitting frantic beeps before falling silent.

“Y/N, it’s okay,” another medic tried to soothe, but you were having none of it.

Your movements were erratic as you swatted their hands away, “I don’t need your help!”

Tony watched, half in awe, half in concern, as you continued to resist the medics’ attempts to care for you. He knew better than to get in the middle of it, but he couldn’t help but step in with a bit of his usual Stark charm.

“Whoa, whoa, guys,” Tony said, raising his hands in a calming gesture as he moved forward. “Let’s give her some space, alright? She just came back from the dead—probably needs a minute.”

The medics hesitated, looking between Tony and you, unsure whether to back off or insist on providing care.

Tony gave them a wink that said, ‘Trust me on this,’ and after a moment, they reluctantly stepped back, keeping a watchful eye on you from a safer distance.

Now free of the wires and the medics’ touch, you stood shakily, your eyes darting around the room as you tried to make sense of everything. You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling exposed and vulnerable in the sterile environment.

Tony passed you a hospital gown, his eyes looking everywhere except your body.

Steve, still recovering from the brutal knee to his groin, slowly pushed himself up from the floor. He was in pain, both physical and emotional, but his concern for you overrode everything else.

“Y/N,” he said softly, trying to reach you without spooking you further. “Please, just listen to me.”

Tony, sensing the delicate balance of the situation, decided to break the tension with a bit of levity.

“Okay, let’s take a breath here,” he said, stepping between you slightly, though careful not to put himself in your direct line of fire.

“Steve, buddy, we really need to work on your situational awareness. You’ve got the super-soldier strength, the reflexes… but somehow, you’re still a magnet for knees to the jewels. Twice in one day? Seriously?”

Steve, still wincing in pain, shot Tony a pained look. “Not the time, Tony.”

Tony, completely undeterred, shrugged. “I’m just saying, next time maybe lead with the shield. Protecting America’s ass is important, but protecting America’s future generations… Now that’s crucial. I can even add some extra padding to your suit. Think about it—‘Ballistic Protection’ could be the next big thing.”

Steve gave Tony a look that was part exasperation, part grudging amusement. “Thanks, Tony. I’ll… consider it.”

Tony smirked, clearly pleased with himself, but his tone softened as he turned to Y/N. “And you, welcome back, Y/N. Hell of a return. But, uh, maybe take it easy on the guy, huh? He’s not as indestructible as he looks.”

You blinked, your anger dimming slightly as Tony’s words cut through the haze. You looked at him, then back at Steve, the fight slowly draining out of you.

“I… I don’t know what’s happening.”

Steve, still wincing in pain but determined to help, took a tentative step closer. “You’re safe now, Y/N.”

Your eyes filled with tears. You wanted to believe him, but the fear and confusion made it hard to know what was real.

Seeing you distress, one of the medics stepped forward again, this time more cautiously. “Ma’am, please, let us help you. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

You looked at the medic, then back at Steve. The fight had left you, replaced by a deep exhaustion. Slowly, you nodded, allowing the medics to approach you more carefully this time.

Tony watched as the medics gently guided you to a chair, their movements slow and deliberate, ensuring you felt safe. He caught Steve’s eye, giving him a small nod of encouragement. “She’s tough, Rogers. She’ll be fine.”

As the medics began to reattach the telemetry wires to you, Tony took a step back, giving them space to work. He turned to leave, but not before giving Steve a pat on the shoulder.

× × × ×

6 months later.

The late morning air is crisp and cool as you step out of your father’s old home—well now yours. The grand house sits tucked into a forested valley, surrounded by towering pine trees that stretch toward the sky, their branches swaying gently in the cool mountain breeze. It’s a place untouched by the outside world, a small haven carved out in nature’s embrace. The air is filled with the scent of earth and pine, a sharp contrast to the steel and smoke of the life you left behind.

This has become your sanctuary over the past six months—a place where you can try to make sense of the world. A place where the world slows down, where you can finally allow yourself to exhale. Here, in this secluded corner of the world, you’re not defined by the battles you’ve fought or the name you carry. You’re simply… you.

You’ve been brought up to speed on everything you need to know, who you've become, the details of modern life, but no amount of information can change the fact that you feel like a relic of the past. The government knew where you were though, Steve fought in preventing you from going into The Raft and the outcome was putting a tracker in your arm, indefinitely.

You know your name will always be painted red, no matter what you do, and you’ve accepted that. So, you’ve chosen to lay low, to live quietly, far from the chaos that once defined your life.

As you prepare to run your errands—simple tasks that help you maintain a sense of normalcy—you step out onto the porch, pausing as you catch sight of a familiar figure leaning casually against a motorcycle in your driveway.

Steve Rogers.

Steve stands there in his usual effortless style, somehow managing to make even the simplest outfit look undeniably charming. He’s wearing a navy blue Henley shirt that clings just enough to show off his broad shoulders and strong chest, with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, revealing the toned muscles of his forearms. His worn, dark-wash jeans fit perfectly, comfortably broken in from years of wear, sitting low on his hips.

A brown leather jacket is slung over the seat of his motorcycle, its aged texture adding a rugged element to his otherwise clean look. His boots—scuffed, but sturdy—are planted firmly on the gravel of your driveway, completing the look of someone who is always ready to hit the road at a moment’s notice.

His hair, slightly tousled by the breeze, catches the light, and his blue eyes are the kind that seem to cut straight through any walls you’ve tried to build.

You feel a familiar tug in your chest, a mix of emotions you’ve tried to push aside for months. Despite everything, despite how often you’ve pushed him away, Steve never misses a chance to show up. He’s determined, and no amount of rejection seems to deter him. It’s something that both infuriates and touches you deeply.

Steve looks up as you approach, a warm smile spreading across his face. His blue eyes, as clear and sincere as ever, meet yours, and for a moment, the world around you seems to fade into the background.

“Morning, just stopping by to check on you.” he greets, his voice soft, but with that unmistakable tone of affection that always makes your heart skip a beat.

“Stopping by?” you reply, raising an eyebrow with a touch of sarcasm. “You seem too far away from home.”

“Guess I couldn’t stay away,” he admits, his smile not fading.

“You’ve been stopping by a lot lately, Rogers.” You cross your arms over your chest, trying to maintain your guarded demeanor, though the small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth betrays you.

“Yeah,” he says, his tone more serious as he takes a step closer. “I guess I have. I can’t help myself.”

“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.” You sigh, shaking your head.

Steve’s smile softens, his eyes filled with a sincerity that makes your chest tighten. “I just… wanted to see you. Make sure you’re doing okay.”

You look at him, really look at him, and see the sincerity in his eyes—the same sincerity that has always been there, even back in 1940. He’s changed, of course, as you all have, but in some ways, he’s still the same Steve you knew all those years ago. The one who would go to the ends of the earth for the people he loves.

You shake your head, more at yourself than at him, and let out a soft sigh. “Your persistence is maddening, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.” Steve’s smile widens, that boyish, heartwarming grin that always seems to disarm you.

You glance down at the checklist for your errands. “I was just about to head out. Got some things to take care of in town.”

Steve nods, not missing a beat. “Mind if I tag along? I promise not to be too much of a nuisance.”

You hesitate for a moment, weighing your options. You could send him away, as you’ve done so many times before, or you could let him in, even if just a little. The latter option is the more dangerous one—dangerous to the walls you’ve built around yourself—but it’s also the one that tugs at your heartstrings the most.

With a resigned sigh, you nod. “Alright, fine. But if you’re coming with me, you’re carrying the heavy stuff.”

Steve grins, that familiar spark in his eyes. “Deal.”

As you walk toward your car, Steve falls into step beside you, his presence a comforting, albeit persistent, reminder that you’re not as alone as you sometimes feel. You reach your car, and you hand him the keys without a word.

“You drive,” you say, giving him a sidelong glance. “I’ve been told I’m too reckless.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

You both climb into the car, and as Steve starts the engine, you lean back in your seat, trying to suppress the fluttering in your chest. It’s just a drive into town, just a few errands, but with Steve, everything seems to carry a little more weight, a little more meaning.

× × × ×

The road winds through the mountains, the late morning sun casting a warm, golden light over and trees that line the way.

Steve drives one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift. You steal a glance at him, taking in the way the sunlight filters through his golden hair, the way his brow furrows slightly in concentration, and how his lips curl up in a faint smile whenever he notices something beautiful in the scenery around you.

You don’t realize you’ve been staring until Steve catches your eye, his smile widening just a bit as he notices the slight blush creeping up your cheeks. You quickly look away, pretending to focus on the road ahead, but your heart betrays you, picking up a beat or two.

“You like what you see?” Steve begins, his voice cutting through the comfortable silence.

“You mean the scenery? Of course I do.”

Steve’s smile widens, the corners of his lips tugging upward in that knowing, playful way that makes your stomach flutter. He doesn’t press the point, but there’s a glint in his eyes that tells you he caught your deflection. At this point, he finds your avoidance adorable, the way you pretend to be unfazed by his presence even though the subtle pink in your cheeks betrays you. It’s a game you’ve both been playing for months now—his persistence, your careful distance—but he never seems to tire of it.

His amusement lingers, as if he’s letting you have this small victory, even though you both know he’s winning the larger war. You can feel the weight of his gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer before he turns back to the road ahead, content to let you believe you’ve dodged the question, at least for now. He smiles to himself. He’s enjoying this quiet dance, the slow pull that keeps bringing you back to him closer each time, even if you don’t quite realize it yet.

There’s something about the way he’s looking at you that makes your chest tighten—you know exactly what it is, but you’re not sure you’re ready to confront it yet. But before you can dwell on it too long, Steve reaches over and gently places his hand on yours, his fingers warm against your skin.

You freeze for a moment, your breath catching in your throat as you feel the heat of his touch seep through you, spreading warmth through your entire body. You glance down at your hands, intertwined so easily, so naturally.

Steve’s thumb brushes over your knuckles in a slow, soothing motion, and you realize he’s not letting go. He doesn’t say anything—he doesn’t have to. His touch says everything. It’s a silent promise, a reassurance that he’s here, and he’s not going anywhere.

Your heart pounds in your chest, the feeling overwhelming and yet somehow comforting. It’s a feeling you haven’t allowed yourself to experience in a long time—too afraid of the consequences, of the pain that might come with it.

× × × ×

The small grocery store in town is cozy, with wooden shelves lined with fresh produce, locally made jams, and all the essentials you’d expect in a quaint countryside market. The bell above the door jingles as you and Steve step inside, the familiar sound bringing a sense of warmth and nostalgia that makes you feel more at home than you’d care to admit.

You grab a basket and start weaving through the aisles, Steve trailing just a step behind you. The store is quiet, with only a few other customers browsing, giving the place an intimate, almost serene atmosphere.

“So, what’s on the list?” Steve asks, his voice light as he catches up to you.

You glance at him, pretending to mull it over. “Well, just the usual vegetables, dairy. Nothing too fancy.”

Clearly on board, he nods. “Anything in particular you want me to grab?”

“How about you handle the vegetables? Think you can manage that?” You give him a sidelong glance, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips.

“I think I can handle a few vegetables, yeah.”

Steve rolls his eyes playfully but nods, heading toward the produce section.

As he walks away, you can’t help but watch him for a moment, noting the way he moves with that effortless confidence that always manages to draw your attention. You shake your head, pushing the thought aside as you focus on gathering the other stuff on your list.

You pick out a loaf of fresh bread, some deli meats, and cheeses, carefully placing them in the basket. As you do, you can’t help but notice an older couple nearby, both of them smiling at you and Steve with a knowing look. You quickly avert your gaze, feeling your cheeks warm slightly. They probably think you’re a couple, and for a split second, the idea doesn’t seem so far-fetched.

You’re rummaging through a bin of ripe tomatoes when Steve returns, holding up a bunch of bright green spinach and some carrots with a triumphant grin.

“Got the veggies. Anything else?”

You raise an eyebrow, giving the produce in his hands a critical look. “Spinach and carrots, huh? What about some cucumbers? Maybe a bell pepper or two?”

Steve chuckles, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. I’ll go get the cucumbers. Anything else while I’m at it, Your Majesty?”

You suppress a laugh, trying to maintain a straight face. “That should do… for now.”

Steve gives you a mock salute and heads off to fetch the cucumbers. You can’t help but smile as you watch him go, feeling a warmth settle in your chest. This is nice—this easy banter, the lightheartedness of it all. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt this comfortable, this… happy.

You move on, grabbing a bottle of freshly squeezed orange juice when Steve reappears beside you, holding the cucumbers and adding them to your basket.

“Anything else, boss?” he asks, his tone teasing.

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the grin that tugs at your lips. “I think we’re good. Let's pay before you start shopping for the entire store.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to help,” he says, following you to the register. “But if you want to take charge, I’ll gladly step back.”

You glance at him, playfully bumping your shoulder against his. “You’re just saying that because you know I’d out-shop you any day.”

Steve laughs, a warm, genuine sound that makes you feel giddy. “I have no doubt.”

At the register, the cashier, a friendly older woman, gives you both a warm smile as she starts ringing up your items. “You two make a lovely couple,” she says, her tone sweet and sincere.

You open your mouth to correct her, but Steve beats you to it, flashing her a charming smile. “Thank you,” he says smoothly, casting a quick wink in your direction. “We’re working on it.”

The cashier chuckles, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Well, from where I’m standing, you’re doing a pretty good job.”

Steve laughs softly, his boyish charm on full display. “I’ll take that as a good sign, then. Can never have too many votes of confidence, right?”

The older woman laughs heartily, clearly enjoying Steve’s playful banter. “With a smile like that, young man, I think you’re well on your way.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. Steve’s ability to charm his way through just about anything never ceases to amaze you.

You shoot him a look after though, fighting the blush that threatens to creep up your cheeks. “We’re… just friends,” you clarify, though your voice doesn’t sound as convincing as you’d like.

The cashier’s smile widens, and she nods knowingly. “Well, take your time, dear. These things have a way of working themselves out.”

You hand over the money, trying to keep your composure as the cashier finishes bagging your groceries. Steve is still grinning as he picks up the bags, and you can’t help but playfully swat at his arm.

“Careful, Rogers,” you warn, though there’s no real heat in your words. “Don’t get too cocky.”

He leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Who, me? Never.”

After finishing up at the grocery store, Steve wanted to look around town since he's never gotten the chance before. The town is small and quaint, with narrow streets lined with charming shops and cafés. There’s a buzz of activity as locals go about their day, giving the place a lively, yet relaxed atmosphere.

You glance over at Steve, who’s holding the grocery bags with one hand, the other casually resting at his side.

“So,” you say, tilting your head slightly, “You want to be dragged out here, and now you’re not in a rush to leave. . . what’s the plan, Rogers?”

Steve grins,“I thought maybe we could explore a bit. It’s been a while since we’ve just… wandered.”

“Wandered? That doesn’t sound like you.” You raise an eyebrow, amused by the idea.

“Hey,” he says with mock offense, “I’m perfectly capable of wandering. Besides, it’s a nice day. Thought it might be good to stick around for a while. Unless you’ve got something better to do?”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips. “Alright, fine. But you’re buying if we stop for coffee.”

Steve chuckles, nodding as he shifts the grocery bags to one hand. “Deal. Let’s drop these off in the car first.”

After placing the groceries in the trunk, you and Steve start down the street, falling into an easy rhythm as you stroll past the various shops and boutiques. The air is filled with the scent of fresh flowers from a nearby florist, mingling with the aroma of baked goods from a bakery a few doors down.

“This place reminds me of the old neighborhoods back in Brooklyn. Quiet, but with character.” Steve glances around, taking in the sights with a relaxed smile.

You nod, feeling a similar sense of nostalgia. “Yeah, it’s got that small-town charm. Easy to see why people like it here.”

As you walk, you come across a small bookshop with an inviting display in the window. Steve stops, his gaze lingering on the rows of books stacked inside.

“Mind if we take a look?”

You follow his gaze, surprised by the request. “Didn’t peg you for a bookworm, Rogers.”

“I’ve got a lot of catching up to do. Besides, you never know what you might find.” Steve shrugs, a sheepish grin on his face.

Curiosity piqued, you agreed, and the two of you stepped inside. The shop is cozy, with shelves that reach the ceiling and the comforting scent of old paper and ink. It’s quiet, with just a few other patrons browsing the aisles.

You wander through the store together, occasionally pointing out titles that catch your eye or laughing at the odd, outdated book covers. Steve seems particularly drawn to the history section, naturally, and you can’t help but tease him a little.

“History books?” you ask, leaning against a nearby shelf as he flips through a volume on World War II. “Seems a bit redundant, don’t you think?”

Steve glances up, chuckling. “Maybe. But it’s interesting to see how things have been written down. What they got right, what they didn’t. Helps me understand where we’re at now.”

You nod, understanding the sentiment. “I guess that makes sense. I’ve always thought you were a bit of a history nerd.”

“Guilty as charged,” he admits, slipping the book back onto the shelf. “But I’ve got other interests, too, you know.”

“Oh, really?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “Like what?”

He gives you a playful look, and wiggles his brows, “I’ll have to show you sometime.”

Before you can respond, the shopkeeper approaches, a friendly smile on her face. “Can I help you find anything?”

Steve shakes his head politely. “Just browsing, thank you.”

The shopkeeper nods and leaves you to continue your exploration. As you move further into the store, you come across a small section dedicated to old records and vinyls. Steve’s face lights up at the sight, and you watch with amusement as he starts flipping through the collection.

“You’re really into this whole retro thing, aren’t you?” you comment, crossing your arms as you lean against a nearby shelf.

Steve looks up, a grin on his face. “It’s not retro for me. This was the stuff we grew up with.” He pulls out a record and holds it up for you to see. “Ever heard this one?”

You glance at the album cover, recognizing the classic design. “Once or twice. My parents were into it.”

Steve laughs, shaking his head. “I’ve got to introduce you to some real music, then.”

You roll your eyes, though you’re secretly enjoying the easy banter. “Please. Like you’ve got anything on my playlist.”

“Careful,” Steve warns playfully, tucking the record under his arm. “I might just take that as a challenge.”

You spend the next couple of hours exploring the town, visiting a few more shops, including a small bakery where Steve insists on buying you a pastry to share.

At one point, you find yourselves at a small park on the edge of town, where children play on swings and an older couple feeds the ducks at a nearby pond. You sit on a bench, the comfortable silence between you filled with the sounds of rustling leaves and distant chatter.

Steve stares at you as you get lost deep in your thoughts. He takes note of the way your eyes seem to shimmer from the soft sunlight, the way you absently run your fingers through your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear. The soft breeze ruffles your hair, and Steve watches as you close your eyes, breathing in the peaceful air of the park.

He can’t help but admire how much you’ve changed—stronger, quieter, more reflective—but still undeniably you. The way you sit there, unguarded, seems almost surreal to him, a glimpse into a version of you he hadn’t seen in so long.

You shift slightly, pulling your knees up onto the bench and resting your chin on them, your eyes still far away, watching the ducks but not really seeing them.

“You always think this hard?” Steve finally says, his voice low and playful, though there’s an undeniable softness to it.

You glance over at him, a small, almost shy smile pulling at the corner of your lips. “Sometimes. It’s hard not to when things actually slow down.”

He nods, understanding. “Yeah, I get that.”

There’s something unspoken between you, something that lingers in the air, but Steve doesn’t push it. Instead, he leans back on the bench, content to sit in the quiet with you, enjoying the simplicity of just being there.

× × × ×

The sun has dipped low in the sky by the time you and Steve return home, the bags of groceries now resting on the kitchen counter. The day’s warmth lingers in the air, a gentle reminder of the easy, carefree hours you spent together wandering through town.

You begin to unpack your ingredients for dinner, while Steve’s eyes catch your father’s old turntable.

“I can’t believe they had this,” he says, his voice tinged with nostalgia as he carefully places the vinyl of ‘You Belong to Me’ by Jo Stafford on the turntable. The record crackles softly as the needle touches down, and soon, the sultry, smooth sound of a saxophone fills the room. Its deep, rich notes float through the air, warm and lingering, wrapping themselves around you like a gentle embrace.

The saxophone’s melody is soft and slow, each note a whispered caress that draws you in closer. It feels like the sound itself is breathing, pulling you into its rhythm, evoking a feeling of quiet intimacy. The low, honeyed tones swell and dip, painting the room with a romantic warmth, setting the perfect mood for what’s to come. As the saxophone fades into the background, Jo Stafford’s voice soon follows, adding to the song’s haunting beauty.

See the pyramids along the Nile... Watch the sunrise on a tropic isle... Just remember, darling, all the while... You belong to me...

You freeze mid-motion, the knife hovering over a bell pepper as the first notes of the song play. The melody tugs at something deep inside you, pulling you back to another time, another place. A time when the world wasn’t as complicated, and when you and Steve were just two people who found solace in each other’s arms.

The music wraps around you like a warm blanket, and before you can fully process it, you feel Steve’s presence behind you. His hands gently slide around your waist, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your shirt as if seeking permission before pulling you closer. You can feel the steady, comforting beat of his heart against your back, its rhythm syncing with the music.

He leans in, his breath warm against your neck, his voice a low murmur in your ear. “Do you remember?” he asks, the words soft, filled with memories of late nights and whispered promises.

You nod, your throat tightening with emotion. “How could I forget?” you whisper, setting the knife down on the cutting board, your hands trembling slightly as the music washes over you, bringing with it the bittersweet memories of the life you once had together.

See the marketplace in old Algiers... Send me photographs and souvenirs... Just remember when a dream appears... You belong to me...

Steve’s arms tighten around you, and slowly, gently, he begins to sway to the rhythm of the song, guiding you in a dance that’s as familiar as breathing. He rests his chin on your shoulder, his lips brushing against your ear as he hums along to the lyrics. The sound of his voice, so close and so familiar, sends a shiver down your spine, and you find yourself leaning into him, allowing yourself to be enveloped by his warmth, his presence.

“I’ve missed this,” Steve murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve missed you.”

Your eyes flutter shut as you surrender to the moment, the memories of your past flooding back with every note of the song. The nights you spent dancing in dimly lit rooms, the way he’d hold you close as if he was afraid to let you go, the way you’d fit so perfectly in his arms—it all comes rushing back, as vivid as if it were yesterday.

Without thinking, you turn in his arms, your hands coming up to rest against his chest. His blue eyes meet yours, filled with a tenderness that makes your heart ache in the best possible way. The song continues to play, the lyrics speaking of distant lands and the longing of two lovers separated by time and space, and it’s as if the song was written just for the two of you.

I’ll be so alone without you... Maybe you’ll be lonesome too... and blue...

Steve’s hands move to your waist, holding you gently but firmly, his hand holding yours firmly above his heart, and he begins to guide you in a slow dance, his movements fluid and unhurried. There’s something so achingly familiar about the way he holds you, the way he looks at you, and you realize that despite everything that’s changed, this—this—feels the same.

You let out a soft, shaky breath as you settle into the dance, your bodies moving together as if no time had passed at all. You’re no longer in the present, no longer in this kitchen, but back in those simpler times, when it was just you and him against the world.

“You’re still a terrible dancer,” you tease, though your voice is filled with affection rather than criticism, a hint of a smile playing on your lips.

Steve chuckles, the sound vibrating through your chest where it’s pressed against his. “At least I had a pretty good partner,” he counters, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mix of amusement and adoration.

You roll your eyes, though your smile widens as you lean into him, resting your head against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear is a comforting lullaby, grounding you in the here and now, while the music transports you both back to the past.

Fly the ocean in a silver plane... See the jungle when it’s wet with rain... Just remember till you’re home again... You belong to me...

As the lyrics weave their way into your heart, you feel a lump form in your throat, emotions swirling within you that you’ve tried so hard to bury. But here, in Steve’s arms, it’s impossible to keep them at bay. The song’s gentle melody tugs at your heartstrings, each note a reminder of what you once had, what you lost, and what you might be able to find again.

Steve’s hand gently tilts your chin up, and you find yourself staring into those familiar blue eyes—eyes that have seen too much, but still hold a depth of love and understanding that makes your breath catch. He’s so close, his face inches from yours, and you can see the unspoken love in his gaze, the promises he’s made and the ones he’s ready to make again.

“My love for you has never wavered,” Steve whispers, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “Not for a single heartbeat, not even when I believed you were lost to me forever.”

Your heart clenches at his words, and tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You’ve been so afraid of letting yourself feel again, of letting him back in, but here in this moment, it’s impossible to deny the truth.

“Steve, I…” you start but you’re afraid, terrified even, of opening up again, of risking the pain that comes with loving someone so deeply. But as his thumb gently brushes against your cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

Fly the ocean in a silver plane... See the jungle when it’s wet with rain... Just remember till you’re home again... You belong to me...

Steve leans in, his forehead resting against yours. It’s just you and him, swaying to the music, breathing in sync, hearts beating as one. The song fades into the background, but the melody lingers in your mind, echoing the sentiment that has always been there, even when you tried to ignore it.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Steve says quietly, his voice a promise, a vow. “I lost you once, and I’m not going to let that happen again. We can take it slow, one day at a time. I’m here, and I’m not giving up.”

You search his eyes, looking for any sign of doubt or hesitation, but all you find is love—the same love that’s always been there, even when you tried to push it away.

You nod slowly, allowing yourself to lean into his touch, to let him hold you a little closer. “One day at a time,” you repeat, your voice steadier now.

Steve smiles, a soft, relieved smile that makes your heart flutter. “That’s all I’m asking.”

Oh, you belong to me...

The final notes of the song fade into silence, but neither of you moves. You remain in each other’s arms, swaying to a rhythm only the two of you can hear. It’s a moment of pure, unadulterated connection—one that feels like it could last forever.

Steve presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as if sealing the vow he’s just made. “I love you,” he whispers against your skin, the words soft but full of conviction.

Your breath hitches at the confession, and you feel the last of your defenses crumble. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer, your heart pounding against his as you finally allow yourself to speak the words you’ve been holding back for so long.

“I love you too,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but full of truth.

Steve’s eyes light up at your words, the relief and happiness that wash over his face making your heart swell with emotion. He cups your face in his hands, his touch tender as if you’re something fragile and precious. He looks at you like you’re the only person in the world, his eyes tracing every feature of your face as if committing this moment to memory.

Steve’s smile is soft and full of love, his thumbs brushing away the tears that have gathered at the corners of your eyes.

You lean into his touch, closing your eyes as you take a deep breath, feeling the weight of your emotions start to lift. The years of distance, the pain of separation, it all seems to melt away in his arms. You don’t know what the future holds, but at this moment, you know that you’re ready to try.

When you open your eyes, Steve is still looking at you with that same unwavering love, and you can’t help but smile—a real, genuine smile that feels like the first in a long time.

He bows his head, giving you every chance to pull away, but you don’t . His fingers tightened on your waist. You rose onto your toes to kiss him. He met you halfway, unable to contain his groan as he hauled you against him, lips finding yours in a kiss that is soft and slow. It’s like coming home, a feeling of rightness that you didn’t know you were missing until this very moment.

The kiss deepens, his arms wrapping around you tighter, pulling you against him as if he’s afraid to let you go. You kiss him back with the same fervor, pouring all your emotions into the connection—your love, your longing, your hope for what’s to come.

When you finally pull back, breathless and slightly dizzy, Steve rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, a look of pure contentment on his face.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” he says, his voice a mix of awe and gratitude.

“I know,” you whisper, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt as if grounding yourself in the reality of this moment.

Steve opens his eyes, his gaze locking onto yours, and you can see the promise of a future there—a future that’s bright and filled with the kind of love that can withstand anything.

He doesn’t say anything more, just holds you close, swaying gently to the memory of the music that played. The world outside could be crumbling, but in his arms, you feel safe, cherished, and loved.

As you continue to sway together, you let yourself sink into the feeling, knowing that whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

Because for the first time in a long time, you’re not just Y/N, and he’s not just Steve. You’re you and him, together, just as it was always meant to be. And this time, you’re determined to hold on tight and never let go.

The day fades into night, the record continues to spin on the turntable, the needle caught in the loop of silence, but it doesn’t matter. The only sound you need is the steady beat of his heart against yours, and the whispered words that pass between you, promises of a love that’s been rekindled and is ready to burn brighter than ever.

× × × ×

2 years later

The sky above is a pale blue, streaked with soft wisps of clouds, as the rhythmic sound of waves gently crashing on the shore fills the air. The late afternoon sun hangs low, casting a golden hue over the entire beach, warming the sand beneath your feet and making the water sparkle like diamonds. The beach is quiet, save for the occasional call of seagulls and the laughter that bubbles up between the three of you.

Steve stands a little distance away, his feet sinking into the soft sand, his arms stretched out with an encouraging smile on his face. The wind tousled his hair, and there’s a light in his eyes that speaks of pure joy—something you’ve both learned to treasure over the past few years.

You’re on the other side of the beach, standing behind your 12-month-old son, who wobbles slightly on his unsteady legs, holding onto your fingers for balance. His tiny toes curl in the warm sand, and you can feel the soft tremble of excitement coursing through him. He’s learning, taking his first independent steps, and the world ahead seems so vast and new.

Steve crouches down, his voice warm and filled with love as he gently calls out, “Come on, Zac. You can do it. Walk to Daddy.”

The baby giggles, his joyful laughter filling the air like music. His wide eyes are bright with curiosity and delight as he looks from you to Steve. With your gentle guidance, he lets go of your fingers, standing shakily on his own for a moment before his legs take their first wobbly steps forward. The tiny footprints he leaves behind in the sand are scattered, small, and sweet—each one next to the larger, steady prints that mark your path.

Steve’s encouraging words fill the space between you, his hands outstretched, waiting with uncontainable pride as your son inches closer, his baby steps unsteady but determined. “That’s it, buddy. You’ve got this!”

Another burst of laughter escapes the little one as he toddles forward, his arms swinging with each step, and the beach feels alive with the shared joy. The warmth of the sun, the gentle breeze, and the soft sand beneath your feet make this moment feel endless, a perfect snapshot of happiness.

When your son stumbles, landing softly on his bottom, he lets out a surprised squeal before bursting into laughter, as if falling is the funniest thing in the world. You can’t help but smile, your heart swelling at the sight of his unbridled happiness.

Steve chuckles, walking over to scoop him up into his arms, his own footprints mingling with yours and the tiny ones left behind by your son.

“You did great, buddy,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. “Look at how far you went!”

The baby babbles happily, reaching up to tug at Steve’s hair with a bright, toothy grin, his cheeks flushed pink from the excitement and the warm breeze. You step closer, watching the two of them with a fond smile, your heart overflowing with love.

Steve’s gaze shifts from the tiny, joyful bundle in his arms to you as you walk toward him, the soft sand shifting beneath your feet. His smile grows, gentle and full of love, as he watches you approach, the golden light of the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow around you. There’s a quiet admiration in his eyes, a look that speaks of everything he feels but doesn’t need to say.

As you reach them, Steve cradles your son in one arm, his other hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. His touch is soft, tender, and his eyes linger on yours for a moment before they drop back to the baby, who is still babbling in Steve’s arms.

“You two are my whole world,” Steve says quietly, his voice thick with emotion. He pulls you both closer, and for a moment, everything feels perfectly aligned—the sound of the waves, the warmth of the sun, and the three of you standing together in the sand, surrounded by nothing but love.

× × × ×

BUCKY'S THEREABOUTS : UNTITLED SEQUEL TO LAZARUS SERUM

(3 months after disappearing)

As he neared the farm, he heard raised voices cutting through the calm. Bucky slowed his steps, his instincts kicking in. Y/N was standing near the barn, facing off with a man—a tall, well-dressed figure, clearly angry. Bucky hung back, observing the heated exchange.

The man’s voice was loud, sharp with frustration. “I’m done with this place, Y/N. I’m not sticking around for another second.”

Y/N’s posture was stiff, her arms crossed defensively, but Bucky could see the hurt behind her steady gaze. “You’re leaving? Just like that?”

The man threw his hands up in exasperation. “I don’t owe you anything. I’ve wasted enough time here, pretending this farm and you meant something to me.”

The words hit hard, Bucky could tell, but Y/N didn’t flinch. She stood her ground, even as the man turned and stormed toward the road, where Bucky stood in silence.

“Move,” the man barked, shoving Bucky’s shoulder in a fit of anger as he passed.

Bucky didn’t move an inch.

The man paused, his face twisting with irritation as he sized Bucky up. He shoved again, this time harder, as if expecting a reaction—something he could work with. Still, Bucky didn’t flinch, his body rigid, his eyes locked onto the man with a cold, steely glare.

Don’t, Bucky told himself, his fists tightening at his sides. The Winter Soldier instincts flared instantly, sharp and reflexive, urging him to retaliate. To end this man’s feeble attempt at intimidation with one swift move. He could do it. He could make him crumble, and the urge to let that side of himself out—to let the man feel just how much danger he was in—was strong.

But something stopped him.

Bucky’s eyes flicked to Y/N, standing a few feet away, watching. Her expression was unreadable, but she was watching him. Waiting to see what he would do. He could feel her presence like a weight on his chest, grounding him. Reminding him that this wasn’t about him. This wasn’t a fight he needed to win.

Slowly, Bucky released the tension in his fists, his knuckles relaxing as he forced the cold, calculating side of himself to retreat. He blinked, his eyes softening just enough to pull back from that edge. This wasn’t worth it. The man wasn’t worth it.

“What the hell is your problem?” the man spat, taking a step back. His face reddened as he realized Bucky wasn’t intimidated—wasn’t even acknowledging his threats.

Bucky said nothing. He didn’t need to.

Embarrassed, the man shot a glance back at Y/N. “So that’s it, huh? You already found yourself a new man? Was this the plan all along? You throw me away, and you’ve got this—this guy waiting in the wings?”

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock. “What? No, it’s not—”

“Don’t lie to me!” he shouted, his voice cracking under the strain of his embarrassment. “I should’ve known! You were just waiting for me to leave so you could run to someone else.”

Y/N stepped forward, anger now coloring her words. “You’re the one walking away. Don’t blame me for your insecurities.”

The man sneered, glancing back at Bucky with a bitter laugh. “Good luck with him. Hope he’s everything you wanted.”

Without waiting for a response, the man sped down the road in his car, disappearing around the bend. Bucky watched him go, his expression unreadable, before finally turning his attention to Y/N.

She stood frozen for a moment, her arms still crossed, her face flushed with a mix of anger and humiliation. When she met Bucky’s eyes, she sighed, her tough exterior softening just a little.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said quietly, though there was no real anger in her voice.

Bucky shrugged, keeping his gaze steady. “Didn’t do anything.”

Y/N gave a small, tired laugh, running a hand through her hair. “Yeah, well… thanks for not doing anything, I guess.”

There was a beat of silence between them before Bucky spoke again, his voice low but certain. “You alright?”

Y/N hesitated, then nodded. “I will be.”

Bucky didn’t push her for more, but something in her eyes told him this wasn’t the first time she’d been left to deal with someone else’s mess. He glanced down the road where her ex had disappeared, then back at her.

× × × ×

Later that evening, the farmhouse was warm with the smell of roasted chicken and vegetables. Bucky sat at the kitchen table, his eyes observing the space while Y/N finished setting out plates. It was a simple, cozy setup, but it had been a long time since Bucky had felt comfortable enough to sit down and share a meal with someone.

Y/N placed the last dish on the table and took her seat across from him. She glanced at him for a moment, studying his calm demeanor before digging into her food.

“Figured you earned this after all your help today,” she said with a small smile. “Didn’t think you’d stick around.”

Bucky shrugged slightly, his voice low as he spoke. “Didn’t see a reason to leave.”

They ate quietly for a few minutes, the clatter of forks on plates the only sound between them. Y/N glanced up at him again, noticing how quiet he was, his face always unreadable, as though there was a world behind his eyes that he kept hidden.

She took a sip of her drink and finally broke the silence. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

Bucky paused, meeting her eyes for a moment before looking back down at his plate. “Not much to say.”

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head. “You’re an odd one, James. Most people who come through here have plenty to say, but not you.”

Bucky looked at her, his expression neutral but with a hint of curiosity. “That a bad thing?”

She shrugged, smiling as she stabbed at a piece of chicken. “Nah. I don’t mind. Just not used to the silence, I guess. But… it’s kind of nice.”

He gave her a small nod, appreciating the fact that she didn’t push for more. The conversation lulled again, comfortable and easy. It was rare for Bucky to find himself in a situation like this—quiet, but not tense. Peaceful, almost.

“So, how’s Seamus treating you?” Y/N asked, breaking the silence once again.

Bucky’s lips tugged into a faint smile. “Seamus is fine. Grumpy, but fine.”

Y/N laughed lightly, the sound filling the kitchen. “That’s his charm. He’s stubborn, but once he likes you, you’re stuck with him.”

Bucky nodded, the ghost of a smile lingering on his face. “Sounds familiar.” referring to himself.

They continued eating, talking about the day’s work and the rhythm of life on the farm. As the last bit of food disappeared from their plates, Bucky stood up and gathered the dishes without saying a word, walking over to the sink.

Y/N watched him for a moment, her eyebrow raised. “You don’t have to do that, you know.”

Bucky just shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

Y/N stood up, grabbing a towel as she moved to his side. “Alright, but if you’re washing, I’m drying.”

They worked in silence for a few minutes, Bucky washing the dishes with a quiet efficiency while Y/N wiped them dry and placed them back in the cabinets. Every so often, she glanced at him, still curious about the quiet man who seemed to carry so much on his shoulders.

“You know,” she said, breaking the silence, “there’s something calming about all this quiet. Feels... different.”

Bucky didn’t look up, but there was a softness in his voice when he finally responded. “Different’s not always bad.”

Y/N smiled at that, feeling a strange sense of connection in the simplicity of their shared silence. As they finished the last dish, Y/N leaned against the counter, towel slung over her shoulder. “You’re a good guy, James. I don’t care what anyone else says.”

Bucky looked at her then, his eyes shadowed with something deeper, something unspoken. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “I’m. . . trying.”

She nodded, not pushing for more, and turned to head back to the table. “Same time tomorrow?”

Bucky gave her a small nod. “Yeah. Same time.”

As he made his way toward the door, Y/N called after him, her voice softer. “Goodnight, James.”

Bucky paused, turning back to meet her eyes one last time. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

With that, he slipped outside into the cool evening air, the door closing softly behind him.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x female reader #steve roger angst #captain america x reader #captain america imagines #captain america fanfiction #captain america #captain america x you #captain america x y/n #captain america x female reader #chris evans fanfiction

91 notes · View notes

bucksangel · 1 year

Text

The Blossom Tree Above

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 8.3k

Summary: Then, almost in slow motion, Bucky lifts his head, and he’s suddenly closer than he’s ever been. His face is mere inches from yours, he licks his lips and releases your hand from his face to place his on your thigh. Bucky’s face grows closer to yours, both of you breathing heavily as you prepare for what you’ve wanted ever since Bucky came to the tower. And just as you’re gaining the courage to kiss him first, a loud - Bang! Bang! Bang!

Warnings: sm-ut, 18+ only, tad bit of self-deprecation on Bucky's part, mild angst, mention of de-ath, or-al (f and m receiving), no actual penetration tho, so much fluff, sam and sarah are good bros, Bucky deserves happiness and he gets it finally, mild jealousy, pet names (plum, baby, sunshine (sam says this platonically))

a/n: this is a commission for the very lovely @splendidreads

tip jar | masterlist

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

Truthfully, and as rude as it might sound, you weren’t planning on it originally. Ever since the Snap, and the subsequent reversal, you’d never really kept up with everyone, nor did you stay in one place for long. You were content with your traveling, in some ways excited over the new and cool places you’ve been to that have helped shape who you are today.

You’d changed your phone number about a year into the Snap, with only Tony and your Uncle Happy knowing it. So, when you got a call from an unknown number you were hesitant to answer it. No one should’ve had access to this number, so you let it go to voicemail. But then, mere minutes after the call ended, the same person called again. And again after they left a message when you’d once again sent it to voicemail.

That time, tired of the constant ringing, you’d picked it up with a cautious, “Hello?”

What a surprise it was to find out it was Sam. He wouldn’t tell you how he got ahold of your phone number, though you suspect your unofficial Uncle Tony may have given it to him. Tony’s never been one to not meddle. Even still, Sam had told you of a little get-together he was having and practically begged you to come.

“C’mon, I miss you. Don’t you want to see your favorite superhero?”

You’d laughed at that, claiming that you didn’t have a favorite - though anyone that knew you well enough would know that it was Bucky. You don’t tell him that, though you’re sure he’s rolling his eyes.

It took a good while of begging and bribing you with his homemade pies, but the final nail in the coffin was him telling you that a certain someone was going to be there. And though he didn’t say exactly who, you had a pretty good idea of who it was.

So, after trying - and failing - to accept his invitation and saying multiple times that you didn’t care if Bucky was there or not, you both said your goodbye and you made plans to take the next available flight to Louisiana.

“Of course, I’m here, I missed you guys,” is what you say instead, giving the man next to you a warm smile.

Bucky doesn’t say anything for a moment, seemingly thinking over something in his head before he nods and gives you his own warm smile.

“I missed you too,” He says softly, a twinkle in his eyes. Then almost immediately his eyes widen ever so slightly. “I mean - Sam misses you too, we all do.”

You chuckle, barely able to hold back rolling your eyes fondly. Instead, you push at his arm weakly, tossing him a drawn-out, “Suuuure.”

A comfortable silence envelops you, and you’re content to continue sitting on a patio chair next to Bucky’s as you eat. But then Bucky pipes up.

“Do you remember the day we met?”

Of course, I do, idiot. Is what you want to say, but you don’t. Instead, you nod with a grin.

“You mean when you almost fell on your face because I smiled at you?”

It was Bucky’s first day at the tower, his hair was long, pulled back by a rubber band with stray hairs hanging around his face that he had to constantly tuck behind his ears. Steve had taken it upon himself to give Bucky a tour, showing him the gym, the common area of the Avengers level in the tower, and where his room would be. Then they’d gone around and introduced Bucky to each of the Avengers and a few SHIELD agents that were seen mingling about.

Each introduction went as follows - Steve guided Bucky to each member individually and let Bucky tell them his name as he holds out a shaky hand, his flesh one, as he tries to maintain eye contact as much as he can stand. He also finds it fitting to thank each person he meets for letting him stay with them because, in his eyes, it should’ve been a risk for him to be there.

Everyone was welcoming, though clearly a little wary. Natasha had helped as well, having known what he’d been through and giving him comforting smiles once in a while and a small head nod to show him he was doing a good job. It should’ve been embarrassing, but the fact that he had at least two people in his corner - he was still determining if Sam could be included in that - was comforting.

Up until you voluntarily came up to him. You seemed innocent to who he was, reaching out your hand first and offering your name before he could to hopefully show him you didn’t judge him. Of course, you weren’t oblivious to who he used to be and what he did, but none of that changed the fact that you thought Bucky could and would do better, that he could trust you if he ever needed help.

He was frozen for a solid minute, having to have Steve nudge him with his elbow to snap him out of his trance. Could anyone blame him though? You were beautiful, with a positive and bright aura that would be almost overwhelming to someone who’s only ever known darkness. But it wasn’t, because the second he heard your voice he knew he was truly and rightfully fucked.

Bucky was quick to give you his name as well, shaking your hand a little softer than the others in fear of hurting and scaring you. He was stumbling through his way of thanking you for letting him live with everyone when he heard a small chuckle disguised as a cough. Bucky ignored it and continued.

But you stopped him soon into his rambling, insisting that he needed and deserved a safe place to stay and that you all would offer that to him. You’d said you would be there if he ever needed anything, and Bucky had no idea what to do with this information. Because how could he deserve help? Who could think he deserved any sort of redemption?

You did. And as you were backing away, you gave him such a warm and friendly smile that he had to hold onto the counter behind him in order to not fall. You’d giggled, light and happy, and Bucky swore he had never and would never hear anything more melodic than that.

“I didn’t almost fall,” Bucky huffs with a playful roll of his eyes. “I… just hadn’t been feeling good and happened to feel a little nauseous enough that I had to hold onto the counter when you smiled at me. There was absolutely no correlation.”

You laugh at this, loud enough that you earn the knowing glances of Sam and Sarah from your peripheral. “Sure, it was just a coincidence.”

Another small silence follows, and you take a few more bites of stew before Bucky speaks again, softer and more sincere.

“Thanks for the food.” He smiles at you, small but no less genuine. And you have to shake your head.

“It was no problem. I would have felt bad if I just showed up empty-handed.”

“Still,” He mumbles, glancing down at the food before looking at you again. “It’s nice. It reminds me of before all this shit happened, ‘simpler times’ if you will.”

You nod, knowing exactly what he means. You haven’t made this specific stew since you lived in the tower with everyone. Every evening people would take turns cooking, but yours was by far the favorite, your food, nearly all made from scratch, served as a comfort for a lot of the Avengers.

Bucky especially. He’d once told you that the flavors reminded him of spices his ma would use when they had a little extra money to splurge on the real stuff instead of plain boiled potatoes. That made you smile, and you’d made a mental note to make it more often if it helped him.

He reaches over the arm of the chair to place his hand - cold metal - gently on your shoulder. “I mean it, thank you.”

Nodding again, you place one of your own hands on top of his, squeezing softly even though you know he can’t feel it before encompassing it to cradle it.

“You’re welcome, Buck.”

____________

The water before you is nearly crystal clear, a light blue hue being drowned out by the golden rays of the setting sun. It shines on the water, the sky is an array of yellows and oranges and pinks, slowly getting darker and darker with each passing minute. The way the wind blows through the trees surrounding the lake makes a calming noise to accompany the serenity of finally being at ease, finally able to let your mind rest and go blank.

Then, suddenly, a hand covers yours from where they rest on either side of your body. The hand, hard metal, slowly turns your hand over before intertwining your fingers together and squeezing softly. Turning your head to your right you see him, Bucky, with his smile so loving and eyes so soft and enamoring. His long hair is pulled back into a bun, though there are a few stray strands that have fallen to frame his face.

Neither of you says anything, simply staring at each other as the tension slowly rises. Without thought, your free hand lifts to tuck the strands of hair back behind his ears. His other hand, the one not holding yours, shoots up to grasp your wrist. He nuzzles into the palm of your hand, almost like a cat, and places a few delicate kisses there.

Then, almost in slow motion, Bucky lifts his head, and he’s suddenly closer than he’s ever been. His face is mere inches from yours, he licks his lips and releases your hand from his face to place his on your thigh. Bucky’s face grows closer to yours, both of you breathing heavily as you prepare for what you’ve wanted ever since Bucky came to the tower.

And just as you’re gaining the courage to kiss him first, a loud -

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Your eyes fly open, your heart racing as you sit up straight on your bed. For a moment your mind wants to play off the sound as a figment of your imagination, desperate to go back to sleep - specifically back to the dream you were having. But then another knock sounds through your room.

“Friday, who’s at the door?” Your voice is a little shaky, not used to anyone disturbing you at nearly one in the morning, so your mind is automatically jumping to the worst possible scenario.

“It is Sergeant Barnes, Ms. Hogan. I detect symptoms of a panic attack.”

Suddenly you shoot up off the bed, nearly tripping while you try to untangle the sheets from your legs. Once you make it to the door, you pull it wide open, eyes wide and heart heavy as you take in Bucky’s appearance.

As mean as it might seem, he looks awful. His eyes are red, the dark circles under them are prominent as though he hasn’t slept in days, and he’s hunched in on himself. He looks like a sad kitten, begging to be pet and loved.

“Bucky?” Your voice is low and smooth, not wanting to frighten him off by being too brutish.

“I-I’m sorry, I just… I shouldn’t be here, I know you were probably sleeping but… I just wanted to be around someone.” Bucky’s mumbling is almost incomprehensible, the way his head is tilted down makes it hard to read his lips, but you hear him just the same.

So, you reach your hand out slowly, asking softly, “Can I touch you, Bucky?”

It takes a moment, but Bucky nods ever so slightly, leaning into your hand when you hold his arm. As soon as you wrap your hand around his bicep as best you can and pull him into your room he nearly collapses into your chest. His arms go around your waist, pulling you to his body and crushing you in a desperate hug.

Your heart breaks, and you find it hard not to cry yourself. But you stay strong, determined to help Bucky. So you maneuver you both back to your bed, managing to disentangle from Bucky’s hold just enough so you can get under the covers before pulling him along with you. Once you’re comfortable laying on your sides facing each other, you scoot forward and wrap one of your arms around his shoulders, guiding him to lay his head on your chest. He goes easily, resting his head down with his ear directly over your heart, listening to the steady rhythm of the thump, thump, thumps.

It takes a long while of you holding Bucky before he speaks, so low you’d miss it if you weren’t hyper-aware of his anxiety and knowing you need to comfort him.

“Why do you like hanging out with me?”

This surprises you. You’d expected him to tell you about whatever it was that has caused his distress, not this. But, you decide not to question him, knowing you shouldn’t fight him on anything when he’s in this state.

“Because you’re fun to be around.” It’s said sincerely because you are. Being around him makes you happy, happier than you probably should be considering you’re just friends.

“No, I’m not,” he mumbles sadly. “I don’t even talk that much. I don’t go out because I hate crowds. I’m still not too caught up on all these new technologies and I know that’s frustrating when we’re trying to watch movies on the tv because I don’t know what I’m doing. I almost broke your nose once when you snuck up on me. I don’t see how that’s fun.”

You sigh, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. Immediately, you want to tell him that those are all the reasons you like him, that it’s endearing when he has to ask you how to use his phone, or that you don’t mind that he doesn’t talk too much because you do enough talking for the both of you.

You don’t, though. Instead, you tighten your hold on him and place a delicate kiss on the top of his hair.

“I get angry easily. And sometimes it’s hard to control. I can cook but I burn any dessert I try to make. I don’t like driving for long periods so whenever I go on a trip it takes longer than it should because I need breaks sometimes. I’m late for almost everything.”

You pause, taking another breath.

“And yet you still like to hang out with me right?” You wait for him to hum his agreement before continuing. “See? We all have our faults, things we don’t like about ourselves, or flaws we should probably work on, but that doesn’t mean that absolutely no one will like us. We can still be loved.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, merely tightening his hold around your waist and nuzzling his face in your chest. It’s silent for a long while, your fingers running through his hair and your other hand rubbing up and down his back. But one question is burning in the back of your mind.

“Is this about those agents?”

‘Those agents’ are the group of newbies that have a habit of talking too loud and being a little too ignorant when it comes to people’s pasts. Yesterday you and Bucky were walking to the gym when you’d heard those same agents talking about how they didn’t know how you did it, how you were able to be friends with ‘a monster like him’. You’d hoped Bucky hadn’t heard it, which is why you did nothing at the time. You didn’t want to bring it to his attention if he was oblivious to it in the first place.

When Bucky sniffles but says nothing, you have your answer.

“You’re not him anymore, Bucky.”

“Then why do people still think I’m a monster?” His voice breaks on the last word, tears clouding his vision as he tries his best not to let them escape.

“Bucky,” You mumble, using one of your hands to cup his cheek and guide his head to look at you. And your heart breaks even further at the broken look on his face. He’s not sad, not even depressed, he’s tired. He’s tired of being accused of still being The Soldier, he’s tired of being seen as a monster, and he’s tired of people assuming he was in control when he was forced to do the things he did.

“Listen to me, okay? You know you’re not the soldier, I know you’re not the soldier. Everyone who thinks about it sensibly knows. I know it doesn’t help because some people might always see you that way, but you know you’re not him. You know how much progress you’ve made, how far you’ve come from when you first moved in two years ago. And that’s all that matters. The people who love you will always love you, they’ll always know the truth, and that’s what’s important. Just because ignorant assholes refuse to open their minds doesn’t mean that’s what you’ll always be.”

Bucky’s lower lip starts wobbling, and a heartbreaking sob escapes his lips as he shoves his face into your neck and starts crying. And you let him, just holding him tightly to you and murmuring loving words into his hair as you press kisses wherever you can.

Eventually, he stops, but only because he’s drifted off to sleep, having exhausted himself. But that’s okay, because tomorrow you can talk about it more, but tonight you’re going to hold him close.

____________

It’s a little after mid-day and you’re already a little tired. You’d been at Sam’s place for a few hours, and the Louisiana heat is something you were not used to. Couple that with the few beers you’ve been drinking have you feeling off-kilter.

Right at the moment you’re thinking of going inside, Sam appears next to you with a glass of ice-cold water.

“Hey Sammy,” You say with a smile, gratefully accepting the glass from him and downing a third of it almost immediately.

“Hey, sunshine,” He smiles back at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. And it’s clear he’s also been drinking. “Y’know, I really am glad you came. I’ve missed you a lot.”

Sighing, you look down. You’re not regretful of your choice to travel, but you can’t help but admit that you missed him too. He’s always been fun to be around, witty and kind, and always ready to cause trouble.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I just…”

“Don’t apologize,” He says sternly, shaking his head. “I know why you did it, and I’m not judging you. I just... We missed you, you know? So, I’m really glad you came.”

It’s silent for a moment, and you lean into his embrace as you watch Bucky play around with AJ and Cass. It brings a smile to your face, seeing him so carefree and, dare you say, happy. You’ve never seen him so relaxed, and you’ve always wanted it for him, so you can’t stop the smile nor the fondness shining in your eyes.

“Bucky’s glad too.”

And, there it is. You should have known Sam wouldn’t leave your crush on Bucky alone. He’s always been teasing you about it, harmless teasing, but joking nonetheless. Shaking your head, you move so Sam’s arm falls from your shoulders.

“I know what you’re doing, Sam.”

“What are you talking about? I’m just saying that he missed you,” He smiles knowingly, giving you a smirk that shows that he must be up to something. “And I know you missed him, judging by the way you were so quick to agree to the invite once I told you that he’d be here.”

“It’s just…” You sigh again, your head turning to look back at Bucky, and you’re forced back in time to right before the first war against Thanos.

Your hands are shaking, fingers never not fiddling with each other in anxiousness. You’re walking next to Bucky who, though he tries not to show it, is nervous as well. His shoulders are tense and his hands flex into fists every so often.

Then the quinjet comes into view, the other Avengers and various SHIELD members already boarding. Bucky stops abruptly next to you, causing you to stop too. Turning to look at him, you see his deeply furrowed brows, his mouth opening and closing like he’s trying to figure out what to say.

“Buck…” Whispering, your hand reaches for his, squeezing it tightly. You’re unsure as to what to say either, a tense silence building around you. You know the stakes, you know that many might not survive, but leading up to this day you’ve been praying to any God that exists to let them be okay, to let Bucky be okay.

It’s stressful for him, you know this. And you don’t know what you can do to help him if you can even do that. It brings tears to your eyes, and Bucky is quick to bring up his free hand to wipe it away.

“Listen, I-” Bucky gets cut off by Steve calling for him, letting him know that they need to leave soon. Bucky nods to him, then turns his attention back to you.

“I’ll come back soon, okay?” His voice wavers and you both know that he can’t promise that, but it does help a little knowing that he’ll try to keep it.

“You better,” You tell him with a watery laugh. “Our movie night is in two days, and there’s no one else that will watch those weird French films with me.”

Bucky chuckles and nods his head, staring into your eyes for a moment. And for a split second, you think he’s going to kiss you, you want him to kiss you. You’ve wanted it for years, praying that he returns your affections.

He doesn’t kiss you.

Instead, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you flush to his chest in a bone-crushing hug. His head dips so it’s nuzzled into your neck. And you’re stunned for a second because Bucky has never been one for physical affection in public. But, you’ll take whatever you can get, so you hug him back, trying to squeeze him tight too.

The hug lasts longer than a hug between friends should probably last, but neither of you can seem to pull away. It takes around two minutes for Bucky to relax his hold on you enough so he can lean back and look into your eyes.

“I’ll come back to you, plum. I promise.” With that, he presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, then disentangles himself from your body so he can step back.

Watching him walk away is terrifying, heartbreaking. But you hope the small smile you give him as he steps inside and turns to face you will try to ease his own fears, and you try desperately to memorize his every feature. Now, all you can do is sit by and hope he comes back.

He doesn’t.

“Ever since… then, nothing’s been the same. I had to get away from everything, I couldn’t stay in one place for too long because I didn’t want to develop any more emotional attachments. I’ve lost so much, so many people, and I couldn’t deal with the possibility of losing anyone else.”

You pause, looking down at the ground to avoid any sympathetic look in Sam’s eyes. You’re tired of that.

“But then everyone came back, and I know I didn’t show it, but I was so happy. I was happy you guys got back, that even if things were different you were back to liven things up. I just…”

Again, you pause. Looking up towards Bucky, still playing with the boys, tears fill your eyes.

“I guess I wasn’t ready for all my emotions toward him to come back. And I knew they would as soon as I saw him.”

“And now?” Sam prods, finally managing to catch your gaze when you turn your head to face him.

“Now, I… I think I’m ready.”

____________

There’s soft jazz music playing throughout the kitchen, on a low volume because people are starting to head off to bed. You’re in the kitchen by yourself, your phone connected to the speaker, swaying your hips to the beat as you set about cleaning up the remnants of dinner and the subsequent dessert. There’s a small smile on your lips, thinking of how everyone praised your food - not the dessert, that was store-bought.

As you’re placing the rest of the dishes in the sink you hear soft footsteps rounding the corner into the kitchen. Turning around, you smile when you see him.

Bucky.

“Oh! Hey, Buck.”

His eyebrows furrow for a split second before he goes back to his ‘resting murder face’ - Sam’s words.

“Hi, Ms. Hogan.”

You let out a short chuckle, shaking your head.

“Please don’t call me that, you can call me by my real name, you know,” You give him a teasing look, then start filling the sink with water so you can rinse off the dishes. “Oh!” Pausing, you quickly go to the microwave and pull out a bowl of the stew you made.

“I saved some food for you.”

Bucky walks toward the kitchen island slowly, cautiously. As soon as he sits on the barstool you place the bowl and silverware in front of him. For a moment it looks like he doesn’t know what to do, he’s just staring at the food intensely. But then he looks up with a smile, a small one that, honestly, looks tense. Like Bucky isn’t quite sure how to do it.

“Thanks.” He looks up at you with a twinkle in his eyes, one you register as a small amount of tears. “I mean it.”

“It’s not a problem, Buck. I made too much anyway.”

With that, you go back to the sink and turn off the water, starting to rinse off the plates so you can put them in the dishwasher. It’s quiet for a long while, with you cleaning and Bucky eating. As you start wiping down the counters Bucky finally speaks up.

“It’s really good,” His voice is timid, a flush covering his cheeks.

“Thanks, it’s my mom’s recipe. She used to let me ‘help’ make dinner, so I picked up a lot of her homemade dishes.” And two seconds after you say this, Bucky speaks again.

“Where is your mom?”

And maybe you should’ve expected that question, but it still takes you off guard. It takes a moment to process it, and your head lowers.

“She’s… not alive.”

Bucky goes quiet once more, and when you turn to look at him, he looks almost guilty, like he feels he shouldn’t have asked. But you’re not mad, how could he know?

“Oh, I-I’m sorry. For asking.”

You start shaking your head immediately, “No, Buck, it’s okay. You didn’t know.” It’s silent again, except for the jazz music still playing in the background.

It takes only a few more minutes of wiping things down before you deem the kitchen clean enough. And when you look back at the man at the counter, he’s already staring at you, some unreadable expression in his eyes.

“I was twelve.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow and his head tilts in confusion. You go to sit next to him, facing him as he continues to slowly eat.

“I was twelve when she died. Well, my dad too. There was an… accident. A drunk driver slammed into their car on their way to pick me up from school. My father was pronounced dead on the scene, and my mom was taken to the hospital, but she died two days later.”

You can’t help but sniffle a little, catching Bucky’s attention. He looks a little worried, and you’re quick to rest one of your hands on his and squeeze it to let him know you’re okay.

“My Uncle Happy was the only relative I had left, so he took me in. He raised me pretty well, especially since I had just lost both of my parents and I didn’t exactly have the best attitude because of it. He brought me here shortly after I turned 18, and Tony let me know that I could stay here as long as I wanted.”

Bucky nods when you don’t continue, though he does look down at where your hand still rests on his. As if in slow motion, he turns his hand over so he can wrap his fingers around yours and squeeze.

“That must have been hard.”

And for once in your life, you don’t see sympathy in his eyes, you don’t hear pity in his words. Typically, people offer condolences and don’t bring up your parents again for fear of upsetting you. And while you appreciate that, you don’t want to never speak about them again, it feels like you’re forgetting them. But one thing about his statement does stand out.

He’s not being sympathetic, it’s empathy. Yeah, he’s sorry for you, but hearing him acknowledge how hard it was makes you feel better, makes you feel seen. Bucky knows better than anyone about loss, so it’s not a surprise that he knows just what to say.

“It was. It was really hard. And it still is sometimes. I’ll always love them, and I’ll always miss them. And I know it’s cliche to say, but time and work do heal wounds. Not all of them, not even most of them, but with enough effort and self-kindness, I was able to find a way to live without the constant pain that suffering can bring.”

With another squeeze of his hand, you stand up and grab his now-empty bowl. As you step around him, you place a hand on his bicep.

“You will too.”

____________

It’s nearing ten in the evening when everything finally winds down. Friends have left and Cass and AJ are forcing their eyes open to prevent themselves from falling asleep on their feet. Bucky and Sam are outside cleaning everything up while you and Sarah are inside doing the same.

“So,” Sarah starts, and you can already feel your eyes rolling. “You and Bucky, huh?”

You sigh, placing a few dishes in the sink as you shake your head.

“What about me and Bucky?”

“Oh don’t play dumb with me. I may not have known Bucky for long, and I just met you today, but I’d have to be blind to not see how you two are with each other.”

Your heart unintentionally skips a few beats, you know that Bucky may return your feelings, but accepting and confronting it without his actual input is what stalls you from doing anything.

But she does have a point, because you know that you don’t look at anyone the way you look at Bucky, you’re not as affectionate with anybody else, and you most certainly don’t tell other people what you tell him. But you don’t tell Sarah that.

“I… don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sarah scoffs, then comes up to you so she can take hold of your arm.

“Listen,” she says, gently turning you to face her. “Like I said, I haven’t known Bucky for long. But what I do know is that I’ve never seen him smile so much, I’ve never seen the way he lights up when you look at him.”

She pauses, and for a moment you think it’s over. But, no. Of course, it’s not.

“I also know that I want him to be happy. And it just seems like you make him happy.”

Everything’s silent for a moment with you ruminating on her words. Because as much as you want to deny her claims, you can see how some of them can be true. Hell, he almost fell over when you first smiled at him.

But just as you’re about to speak, all of the boys come walking through the door.

Sam has Cass slung over his shoulder, the younger boy laughing and slapping Sam’s back as he demands to be put down.

“Sam!” Sarah scolds playfully, giving him a glare that makes him carefully place Cass down.

“What’s going on here?” Bucky asks as he follows behind AJ. And at Sarah’s knowing glance she throws your way, you quickly step in.

“Nothing, I was just telling Sarah that I can handle the rest of the cleanup while she puts the boys to bed.” You shoot her a mild glare, praying she goes along with the lie.

“Actually, I’m going to take the boy’s to their friends' house. Figured us adults could have a night without the kids.” And the knowing glance Sarah sends your way makes you want to roll your eyes. Then, as she’s ushering the boys out the door, she yells, “Goodnight everyone!”

All three of you echo her words, and when she’s finally out of earshot Sam comes up to stand between you and Bucky.

“Actually, I can handle dishes, why don’t you two head to bed? I’ll take the couch, you two take the guest room.”

Bucky’s eyes go wide, and he licks his lips nervously as he glances at you to see your reaction.

“Sam, it’s fine, I can take the couch.”

Sam shakes his head, putting a hand on each of your shoulders.

“I’m not letting a lady take the couch when there’s a perfectly good bed, and I’m definitely not sharing one with Robo here.”

All of you pause for a moment, before Sam smirks. “Unless you wanna share a bed with me?”

Bucky clears his throat, which gathers your and Sam’s attention. “N-no. No, it’s fine. I’ll share it with her.”

He says it kind of gruff, shooting a mean look at Sam. Sam, in turn, laughs, then pats both of your arms and pushes you both in the direction of the guest room.

“Well, since that’s settled, go get some beauty sleep.”

And as you’re about to walk down the hall, Sam pipes up once more. “Don’t have too much fun you two!”

And as you both enter the room, you’re suddenly nervous. Yeah, you’ve shared a bed with Bucky before, but that was Before everything. This is Now. And you’re not too sure you can get an actual good night's sleep with the man you’re in love with merely inches away.

As you’re standing in the middle of the room, Bucky appears at the door with a few clothes.

“I, um. I brought some extra clothes, you can have some if you want.” He sounds nervous, and when you turn to him you can see a blush start rising on his cheeks beneath his stubble.

You reach out to grab the clothes he offers and his gaze falls to your hands so close to his.

Slowly, tension rises in the air, and it’s almost like everything is going in slow motion. You look up at him through your eyelashes, and he looks back at you with almost slight desperation. Both of you are quiet for a long moment before you can muster up a smile.

“Thanks, Buck.”

Then you retreat to the bathroom to change, as well as to get some much-needed space so you can calm your racing heart.

“Jesus Christ,” You mutter to yourself as you strip your clothes. “Get it together. It’s going to be fine.” When you slip on Bucky’s maroon henley - the one you can’t help but drool over whenever Bucky wears it - you turn towards the mirror. The sleeves go past your hands so you have to roll up the sleeves just so you can use them, and it rests just above your mid-thigh. And you can’t deny the way your heart skips several beats at seeing yourself in Bucky’s clothes. It makes you feel safe, protected, and, dare you say it, loved.

After another minute of hyping yourself up, you finally exit the bathroom to see Bucky pulling out a blanket from the closet and holding an extra pillow.

“What are you doing?”

Your words make him pause, and he whips his head over to you with wide eyes. He clears his throat and licks his lips, eyes quickly dipping down to look at your bare legs before looking back up at your eyes.

“Um,” Bucky clears his throat, glancing down at the ground before turning back around. “Just getting another blanket. I’m going to sleep on the floor.”

“No, you’re not.” Walking up behind him, you place a hand on his shoulder and turn him to face you. And you’re suddenly extremely aware of the lack of space between you two. And the tension begins to rise again.

“We’ve shared a bed before, it’s fine.” Your voice is soft, and you can’t help but run your hand down his arm until you can grab his hand and pull him towards the bed. And Bucky, of course, is helpless but to follow your lead, he lets you guide him to lay on the bed while you situate yourself on the other side.

Eventually, you both are laying on your sides in the dark, facing each other. Everything is quiet, and even though the only light in the room comes from the moon shining through the window, you can still make out Bucky’s features, and his eyes that are trained intensely on yours.

“Buck-”

“Plum, I-”

Both of you laugh softly, and you reach your hand out to place it over his that’s resting between you two. “You go first.”

Bucky sighs, then nods, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them and turning his hand over so he can grasp yours.

“I was talking with Sam today,” He starts, smiling when you playfully roll your eyes. “Anyway, I was talking to Sam. And… and he was talking about how glad he was that you came today. That he missed you, and he just - just started talking about how great and wonderful you are. And you are. You really, really are. But I just couldn’t help but feel… jealous. I know he was probably just trying to rile me up, but hearing someone else talk about you like that just - it just made me realize that I don’t really have the right to be jealous. Because we’re not dating. But it also made me realize that I want to be. I mean, I’ve wanted to be with you for so long, even before the snap, and after going through so much throughout my literal hundred years of living, I don’t want to let go of anything that’s brought me happiness.”

He pauses, then releases your hand so he can bring his up to rest it on your cheek, rubbing it in slow circles with his thumb.

“You make me happy. Happier than anyone has ever made me. And I may be way off-base here, but I don’t think I am. I don’t want to waste this chance I’ve been given, so, this is how it is,” Again he pauses, scooting forward ever so slightly so he’s mere inches from your face.

“I love you, Plum.”

And you really can’t help yourself when you push forward to press your lips against his, you’ve waited too long to hear him say those words and you absolutely cannot bring yourself to care if you seem over-eager. Bucky doesn’t seem to mind, though, because he immediately starts kissing back, moving his hand from your face to run it over your arm, then moving it to lay on your waist above the blanket.

You bring one of your hands up to Bucky’s hair, threading your fingers through his strands and tugging at them, causing Bucky to moan softly. In one swift motion, Bucky flings the covers off of your bodies then turns you on your back so he can hover over you. He pulls back after a moment, simply staring down at you with such intensity that you can’t help but squirm impatiently beneath him.

“Bucky…” You whine, wrapping one arm around his neck and your other hand reaching down to sneak up his shirt to rub at his side. “I - Please, Buck.”

“Don’t worry, Plum. I’ve got you, I promise.” Bucky dives back down to capture your lips again, nipping at your bottom lip and then running his tongue through the seam of your lips to force it in your eager mouth.

Suddenly, one of his hands runs down your body, sneaking under the shirt that you’re wearing, and moaning when he finally touches your bare skin. Running that hand back up your body, he cups one of your breasts and kneads it softly, stopping every so often to pinch and rub at your nipple.

“Bucky!” You whine a little louder, though it’s still drowned out by his tongue roaming your mouth.

Bucky pulls back slightly, only to mumble “Can I take this off?” before placing another bruising kiss on your lips. And with your enthusiastic nod, he, regretfully, pulls back and rises to his knees so he can stare down at you.

After a long moment, you begin squirming again, reaching up to grasp at his shirt and tug at it impatiently.

“Buck, come on!” And maybe you should be embarrassed by how borderline pathetic you sound, but with the way his eyes darken, you can’t find it in yourself to care.

“Sorry, Plum, I just - you look so fucking good in my clothes.” He bites his bottom lip, resting his hands on your bare waist from where the shirt was pushed up.

“I bet I’ll look even better out of them.”

Bucky chuckles, then finally gets going as he helps you lift up slightly so he can take off the shirt. And then he pauses again, sighing and cursing softly under his breath.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful. And all mine, right?”

“Yes! All yours!” You can’t help but nod wildly, wiggling underneath Bucky and gasping when you feel the very big and very hard bulge in his pants.

“Good,” He mutters, leaning down to kiss you once more. “You’re so fucking good for me, Plum.”

Your hips buck up involuntarily, your legs twitching as you let his words wash over you, sending shocks down your body. Dear God, you’ve been waiting for this forever, you’ve dreamt about what Bucky would be like in bed, what he would say to you, and it’s already surpassed anything you’ve ever fantasized about.

Bucky pulls away once again so he can quickly whip off his shirt, now allowing you free reign to look in awe at how utterly perfect he is. Except, suddenly Bucky’s gone shy. And for a moment you’re confused, why is he suddenly stopping?

Then you realize, he’s never been shirtless around you. As far as you know, he hasn’t been shirtless in front of anyone. And with the way his gaze tilts toward his shoulder, you know he’s become self-conscious.

“Buck…” You whisper, scooting back and sitting up so you’re at eye level with his chest. Carefully and slowly, you reach out to place one of your hands on his shoulder, running a finger over the worst of the scars.

“We can… um.” He stutters, face going red. “I know it doesn’t look good. I can put my shirt on if you want?”

Sighing, you keep eye contact as best you can as you lean forward to place several delicate kisses over the scars.

“I’m not bothered by them Bucky. You’ve been through so much, I know that. You know that I know that. I love you, every part of you. And whether you like it or not, these scars are a part of you. They don’t change any of my feelings towards you.” You pause, placing one more kiss before leaning back and bringing your hands up to cup his face.

“You can put it back on if you want, but I’d prefer to really see you. I’ve been waiting for this for too long, you have no idea how much I’ve wanted to see you like this. How much I’ve wanted to kiss you all over, to care for you just like you deserve.”

A sniffle sounds through the air, and the tears in Bucky’s eyes are prominent as one slides down his cheek.

“Can I?”

Immediately, Bucky nods, letting you push him onto his back so you can climb over him and straddle his waist, sitting directly over his clothed crotch. You gaze down at him with as much love in your eyes as you can muster, guiding his hands to settle on your hips so he can guide them to rub and roll over his hard-on.

“I love you, Buck.”

Another tear slides down his cheek, and he nods as he echoes your words. Placing your hands on his chest, you roll your hips a little harder, running your hands over his stomach up to his chest, then back down.

“Can I… I want-” He says, a frustrated look on his face as though he doesn’t know what he’s trying to say.

“What do you want, baby?” His hips buck up, a small groan leaving his lips.

“Want you to ride my face. Please, Plum, I need it.”

Now it’s your turn to moan, and you nod your head as you get off of his body, pulling down your underwear to throw them off to the side. Then you shuffle so you can swing your leg over his head, hovering over him ever so slightly as you wait for him to start. But he doesn’t. He simply huffs frustratedly before gripping your thighs and pulling you down so you’re sitting on his face properly.

And that’s when he gets going, placing kisses wherever he can before licking a long stripe from your hole up to your clit, then wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking it into his mouth.

“Ah! Oh, oh, Bucky! Baby!” You can’t help but whine, mindful of the fact that there are other people in the house.

Bucky groans, deep in his chest that travels up to your pussy, causing you to whine again. You can’t help but roll your hips over his face, eyes going wide and mouth dropping open when Bucky brings up two cold metal fingers to trace them around your hole. As he nips at your clit he pushes both fingers into your hole, and you have to bite down hard on your lip to prevent from screaming in pleasure.

Your hips roll faster, bouncing slightly with every harsh thrust of his fingers. And tears start forming in your eyes as your stomach starts tightening, forcing your legs to tighten around his head, which he doesn’t seem to mind at all.

In fact, you notice Bucky’s hips thrust up into the air once more, and you turn as much as you can to see a wet patch forming on the front of his sweatpants. Then, an idea pops into your head.

“Buck, stop.”

Quickly, Bucky releases his tight hold on your hips and lets you sit up. And he’s in the middle of asking what’s wrong when you turn over so you’re facing his crotch. With a smirk, you settle back down on his face while you pull down his sweatpants to let his cock spring out.

Bucky gasps into your pussy, then moans louder when you grasp his cock - the tip an angry red and pulsing in need. Lowering your body, you press yourself against his and take the tip of his cock in your mouth, suckling softly and swirling your tongue around the tip. You give Bucky a minute to get used to the pleasure before rolling your hips back down over his face which causes him to get with the program. Bucky starts to eat you out again, licking at your pussy, shoving his tongue as deep into your hole as it can get.

And it goes on for what feels like forever while also not long enough before you feel your core tighten again, and you roll your hips more frantically as you take Bucky’s cock down your throat so it hits the back of it. Bucky shouts, the sound gets drowned out by your pussy and the sounds of your slurping.

It’s not the best head you’ve ever given, but Bucky can’t seem to tell with the way one of his hands stays planted on your thigh while the other goes down to your head to guide you up and down his cock. And when Bucky sucks your clit back into his mouth, his teeth nipping at it, you explode, moaning as best you can as your orgasm washes through your body. The moans travel down Bucky’s cock, and without warning his cock pulses before coming.

Bucky forces your hips to continue rolling over his face to prolong his and your orgasms. And it takes a few moments for it to subside and you’re finally too sensitive to continue. But, eventually, you’re able to roll off of Bucky’s body and turn so you can flop down next to him, both of you breathing heavily.

It takes another minute to calm your racing heart, and when you turn to face him, you see him already looking at you.

“Hey,” You whisper, smiling widely.

“Hey,” He whispers back, smiling too. Then, he moves forward to place a kiss on your forehead before trailing more kisses down to your lips, where he places a chaste kiss against your lips before pulling back to stare into your eyes.

“I love you, Plum,” He says, sighing happily.

“I love you too, Buck.”

Then, Bucky shuffles down, covering your body with his and placing his head over your chest. You wrap your arms around him, holding him tightly and placing kisses on the top of his head.

“Goodnight, Buck.”

And you feel Bucky smile as he says, “Goodnight, Plum.”

#let me know what yall think!!#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic rec #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barns #bucky barns imagine #bucky barns fanfiction #my writing

305 notes · View notes

baseballbitch116 · 3 months

Text

However Long It Takes - Chapter Two

Klaus Mikaelson x oc slow burn series

Charlotte found herself morbidly curious about the Originals ever since they came to town. After finally meeting the hybrid, Klaus, she is even more intrigued. Is Charlotte in way over her head?

Word Count: 1465

Warnings: None in this chapter

Masterlist | However Long It Takes Masterlist

Chapter Two - The Grill

You were in fact right that the others had been plotting something. Apparently Klaus’s father was not dead and Damon nearly killed him that evening, until Stefan saved him. To say that you were shocked was an understatement. Eventually it came to light that Stefan only did it to save Damon, and then made up for it by kidnapping Klaus’s siblings, which were daggered in coffins. You found it slightly comical in a twisted way that Klaus could essentially just put his siblings into a coma until he felt like waking them. Of course, you knew it was wrong and didn’t agree with it at all. But it ended up working out for the rest of you, because all of the originals were subdued or otherwise distracted.

You found yourself hanging around the others more often, trying to keep up with the events. You were hanging out at the bar with Damon and Elena, playing darts together as she watched. Damon continuously flirted with her, which was slightly annoying, given that he slept with you less than a month ago. You certainly didn’t have feelings for the elder Salvatore brother, but still didn’t appreciate being used so blatantly. “I’ll see if I can make any… improvements,” you roll your eyes at the two flirting and down the last of your drink, tossing the dart and nearly making a bullseye.

“Don’t mind me,” you whip your head around, startled by the sudden additional presence. It wasn’t easy to sneak up on a vampire, unless of course, said person is also one. Or in this case, a hybrid.

“Klaus,” Elena mutters under her breath. The original has a smirk plastered across his face, scanning Elena before his eyes fall on you.

“You’re gonna do this in the Grill? In front of everyone?” Damon adjusts his body to stand closer to Klaus than Elena. “It’s a little beneath you, don’t ya think?” You can see his demeanor has become very tense and he is obviously nervous, which made you nervous. Damon was not the type to startle easily.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just came down to my local pub to grab a drink with a mate.” Klaus responds, turning to look back at the dark haired hybrid standing behind him. “Get a round would ya, Tony?” The hybrid smirks at Elena before walking over to the bar. Elena looks baffled and Klaus’s grin grows, seeming pleased with himself.

“Surprised you stuck around town long enough for happy hour,” Damon comments. It is becoming clear that whatever this is about doesn’t have a whole lot to do with you, so you turn your back to them and grab the darts from the board.

“My sister seems to be missing.” When you turn back around, you see that Klaus’s face has fallen into a menacing scowl, eyeing Damon like it was his fault Rebekah was missing. “Need to sort that out.”

“Cute. Blonde bombshell. Psycho. Shouldn’t be too hard to find.” Damon’s endless unserious comments continue and you roll your eyes. Klaus’s gaze shifts from Damon to you momentarily, then back to him as he takes a few steps closer to the two.

“Truth is… I’ve grown to rather like your little town. Thinking I might fancy a home here.” he takes the dart from Damon’s hand and walks past him, standing right beside you and making brief eye contact again. His gaze is very intense, not only from intimidation but just from his presence. He tosses the dart with ease and makes a perfect bullseye, turning back around to Damon with a smirk on his face once again. He is very arrogant, similarly to Damon. “Well I imagine you are wondering ‘how does this affect you?’ And the answer is, not in the slightest. As long as I get what I want and everyone behaves themselves, you can go on living your little lives however you choose.” His gaze falls on Elena and he cocks his head slightly. “You have my word,” he mutters, but something about the way he said it was somehow more intimidating.

“What more could you possibly want?” Elena finally speaks up. Klaus suddenly invades her space and you tense up, ready for a fight.

“Well for starters, you can tell me where I might find Stefan.” he responds, and Damon walks forward to stand between the two of them.

“Stefan skipped town the second he saved your ass.” Damon informs Klaus darkly.

“Well you see that is a shame,” Klaus growls. “Your brother stole from me.” Your brows furrowed in confusion, but then you remember that Stefan hijacked Klaus’s family. That’s what he’s after? Why dagger them and keep them locked away if you care about them? “I need him found so I can take back what’s mine.”

“That sounds like a Klaus and Stefan problem.” Elena remarks bravely - or stupidly. Klaus starts approaching her with narrowed eyes but Damon positions his body in front of Elena. Klaus smirks and his gaze falls on you, watching your reaction. You continue to stand there, stiff and on edge, waiting for his next move. He leans in closer toward Elena’s face and says in a low voice: “Well this is me broadening the scope, sweetheart.” Klaus steps back and looks at you once more before walking past Damon and up toward the bar, meeting the hybrid.

“Well shit,” you finally say something.

~~~

You didn’t have any more run-ins with Klaus since that incident in the bar. Eventually, Stefan handed over the coffins like you knew he’d have to, and completely destroyed his relationship with Elena all the while trying to get the upper hand over Klaus. It turned out, one of the coffins had Klaus’s mother inside, as well as two other siblings. Now there were more originals than you could keep track of in town, and suddenly everywhere felt unsafe. You stayed home or at Elena’s most days after school, trying not to attract any unwanted attention. Not even a week after Klaus’s family was released, Elena received an invitation to a “Mikaelson Ball.” You were at her house when she got the invitation, along with a note from Esther herself. You agreed with Stefan and Damon that it seemed like a trap, but Elena was insistent that it wasn’t. When you arrived home, you saw a small box and envelope on your porch. You wondered what this could possibly be, picking them up and heading inside. First you opened the envelope, which had your name scrawled beautifully across the front. Inside was an invitation to none other than the ball. Your heart dropped in your chest, filled with mixed emotions. Part of you was happy to be invited, part was annoyed that you were despite all of your efforts to stay out of the drama. And another part of you wondered who exactly decided to invite you. Was the entire town invited? Did Esther invite you? Or… Did Klaus?

Sure enough, you flipped the invitation over and found a simple note written for you.

Save me a dance, Fondly, Klaus

Your jaw literally dropped. You were beyond stunned that Klaus not only invited you, but left you this little note. What did it mean? You quickly unwrapped the present and discovered a gorgeous dark blue dress inside. He gave you a dress? To wear? To his family’s ball? As his date? Does this make you his date? Surely Klaus Mikaelson is not asking you to be his date for a ball. And this dress… It was stunning. You held it up to your body and looked in the mirror. It seemed like your size, and it complimented your skin tone and hair well.

You quite literally spent the next two hours trying to decide if you were going to go. You wanted to, every part of you was curious to know what could happen. The more logical side of you knew it would be dangerous. You would be in a room with four original vampires, one original hybrid and the original witch… That sounded like a recipe for disaster. But still… You couldn’t help yourself.

Once you decided that you wanted to go, you then spent another half hour trying to decide if you would wear the dress that Klaus gifted you. What would happen if you did? But then again, what would he think if you didn’t? After debating and scouring your closet, you found yourself standing in front of your mirror at 6:30 wearing the beautiful ball gown and white gloves. You looked amazing. Even with your simple hair style and makeup… You knew that you looked gorgeous. This dress could probably make anyone look gorgeous. What would Klaus think about your look? Why did you care?

~~~

< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >

Let me know if you would like to be tagged when the next chapter is posted!

#the vampire diaries #klaus mikaelson #the originals #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson imagine #baseballbitch116 #however long it takes #klaus mikealson x reader #klaus mikaelson love story #klaus mikaelson smut #klaus mikaelson fanfic #klaus mikaleson imagine

21 notes · View notes

gaysindistress · 1 year

Text

As Good a Reason - four

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

summary: when Brock Rumlow picks a fight he can’t win with the White Wolf, he drags his Snake back. Six years after she ran away, Y/N Rumlow is faced with a choice to make; do as she’s told and kill the White Wolf or overtake her father instead because spite’s as good a reason to take his power?

warnings: cursing, violence, weapons

word count: 3k

A/N: Bucky gets darker the next few parts so I’m warning y’all now and no one gets surprised. I’ll add a ⚠️Dark!Mob!Bucky⚠️warning in the parings as well as the warnings.

three | series masterlist

Tag list: @cakesandtom @elizacusi-blog @unaxv @hidden-treasures21 @vonalyn

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest. The women in the banners are not how Y/N is supposed to look. They are merely for aesthetic purposes and Y/N is written vaguely enough for anyone to see themselves in her.

John is sewing up Victoria’s hand as she grimaces and swallows the entire bottle of Vodka in one gulp. Niklaus, on the other hand, is frantically pacing the room, wearing ruts into the floor. John tries to get him to stop or slow down even but he refuses.

“We’re fucked, absolutely fucked,” he mummers under his breath.

Victoria practically growls as John pulls at the stitches to tie them off before snapping at her brother, “Of course we are. We let that bastard take Y/N.”

John looks to Niklaus nervously and then back to Victoria.

“Oh my god, what did you two idiots do?” “Nothing, we did nothing,” Niklaus snaps back at her.

“No, you did something. Tell me or I’ll throw you both through the window.”

John spills almost instantly, “Klaus made a deal with him last year.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” she shrieks.

Niklaus rushes over to her and quickly puts his hand over her mouth to silence her, “Shut up for the love of god. I’ll tell you if you promise to not say anything. Brock is literally down the hall.”

She nods and he starts in with the tale of how he might have royally fucked up.

About a year and half ago, Brock caught him and another man together and beat Niklaus to a pulp. He had been laid up in the hospital for weeks and needed routine visits afterward from the injuries he sustained. In addition to being beaten within an inch of his life, Brock had threatened to kill them if he ever caught them again. That had been the final nail in the coffin for Niklaus; after years of enduring the torture that his father put him and his siblings through, he made the decision to get rid of him once and for all.

The most natural choice was the White Wolf.

He was feared across the East Coast and was gaining power rapidly. He threatened Brock’s authority in New York and it made him nervous, sketchy, and scared. Niklaus arranged a meeting with Steve, his community liaison, and set the plan in motion however it all crumbled when Brock caught wind of a rat amongst his ranks. He had Niklaus and John execute too many innocent men and he even made a move on the White Wolf’s men. He’d murdered Tony Stark, one of the White Wolf’s close friends and advisors, setting forth a domino effect of violence. He retailed as one would and with Y/N being dragged back in, it complicated things. Niklaus tried to uncomplicate it and remove her from the equation with the planned ambush at the party but he never expected that she would willingly take the deal. Hoping that she was still the stubborn teen she had been, he’d hoped that the White Wolf would have to take her against her will and keep her locked away until it was all over with.

“You are the biggest idiot I have ever met,” Victoria says with an equal amount of shock and annoyance, “Why didn’t tell me before? I could’ve helped you plan something better.”

“I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt if it all went south. I figured I could take the brunt of it while John got you to safety.”

Victoria scoffs, “So a suicide mission?”

“No.”

“Yes! You know him better than anyone. He will tear you apart limb by limb, sew you back up and do it again until he gets bored. And even then he’ll find a new way to entertain himself.”

John makes a disgruntled noise at all of her moving and says, “But if Brock’s dead, it’s all worth it.”

“No it isn’t John! You’ve been friends since birth practically and you’re seriously suggesting that him being dead is for the best? Klaus,” she pleads with her brother, “we have to find another way. Call him and find another way. Please, I can’t lose you.”

“There’s no other way. Either the White Wolf kills Brock before he can get to me or I try my hand at it and our father kills me.”

Her eyebrows furrow in pain and sadness as John finishes her hand. The moment he’s done she leaps up and wraps her arms around her brother.

Niklaus grips her back tightly ad if he’s afraid she’ll disappear into thin air and buries his face in her hair.

“You better hope Y/N figured out a better plan.”

He nods against her head.

“I love you, Klaus.”

“I love you too.”

Brock loves to incite fear in everyone around him whether that be with his voice or a violence. He craves to make all those in the same room as him fear for their lives if they so much as breathed wrong and that is especially true with his children. He lives to see the terror that lives in their eyes when they see him or how their bodies go rigid when he walks past them. He wants to see them shutter when he walks too close to them. He wants them to hold their breath until he leaves. He wants them and everyone else to walk on eggshells when he is around. He wants them to fear him in every sense of the word.

Victoria’s small sniffles piss him off to no degree and he backhands her hard enough that she falls to the ground. Niklaus, ever the loyal son, only flinches at the sound of the impact and does nothing to help his sister. He knows that if he even so much as moved a muscle, he would be next.

“Can someone please explain to me how the fuck you let that bastard take Y/N?” he growls at them as he rubs the bridge of his nose.

Victoria climbs to her feet and with hit tears pooling in her eyes, she matches his anger, sneering back at him, “He knew we were going to be there. We didn’t stand a chance.”

“You had Y/N. You had every advantage I could’ve given you but somehow you two still fucked it up and killed her in the process.”

Niklaus risks his head and speaks, “She’s not dead. He took her hostage.”

Brock marches up to his son and grips his face in one bone crushing hand as he says, “That’s even worse. He can use her to get to me.”

“Y/N won’t give you up no matter how much she hates you. She wouldn’t risk Victoria and I getting hurt,” Niklaus scoffs and jerks his head away.

In a flash, Brock whips out a pistol and pushes against his forehead, “You’re useless, you know that? I’ve done nothing but provide for you and give you everything you could ever want. Still you fuck up and prove to me that you’re only ever going to be a thorn in my side. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t put a bullet in you and Victoria.”

Victoria makes a startled gasp and lunges at her brother in efforts to push the gun away but John grabs her and holds one of his own to her temple. She whispers insults under her breath and curses him for being “a fucking traitor and a bastard.” Niklaus looks at her for guidance because he’s a loss for words. There’s nothing he could say that wouldn’t get someone hurt. She shakes her head as much as she can, urging him to not say anything. The one piece of information he can give their father to save them would end with Y/N’s head on a platter but it’s all he has to offer.

“Nik please,” she whispers with even more tears in her eyes.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Nik you always have a choice. Don’t do this please. Él la matará.”

He will kill her.

“Don’t speak that shit in my house,” Brock growls at her, “Try again and this time peak English.”

She pleads with her brother again in Spanish, earning another growl but with the gun against both of their heads, he has to do something. Giving away himself would ruin any chance at catching Brock off guard in the future so he goes the only thing he can.

Niklaus tears his eyes away and locks eyes with his father as he utters Y/N’s death sentence, “She made a deal with him; in exchange for our lives, she helps him kill you.”

“Is that so?” Brock asks, cocking his head in amusement before turning to look at Victoria, “I think I might have to send a message to that brat if that’s the case.” One shot.

And a body drops.

Steve chooses to grab Y/N by her hair this time, keeping his hand wrapped in her braid so that he has complete control of her. The White Wolf gives him a disapproving look but doesn’t say anything as they walk into a looming and dark house. Matching the exterior, the house is black and sleek with no hint of personality anywhere to be found. It looks very much like a house that a mob boss would buy to launder his money and she assumes that this is the case.

“Stop gawking,” Steve tells her with a harsh tug of her hair and she hisses at the pain. The White Wolf looks back and motions for Steve to bring her forward.

Taking her arm in his like a pretend gentleman, he explains that until Brock is dead, she will be staying with him. She’s not to leave and if she does, she needs to have explicit permission from him and a security detail will go with her. Steve smirks when her eyes flicker over to him, indicating that he will be the spearhead of that detail. The White Wolf saying her name brings her attention back to him and continues to explain that the house is hers, she has free reign as long as she stays within its walls. He stops them at a door at the end of a hallway, “This is my office…”

She interrupts him, “And it’s off limits. I know the drill.”

He smiles, looking her up and down while he wets his lips, “Smart girl.”

A part of her shutters in disgust but another….

“How much time do you need?”

“What?” she questions, searching his face for any hint of explanation.

“It’s been six years since you left home so I’m assuming you need some time to figure out a plan. How much time do you need?”

“You make it seem like I left on good terms,” she mumbles, shrinking under his intense gaze.

He chuckles, “Sorry, RAN AWAY.”

She sighs and looks around her, “He’s living in one of his old properties so I already know how to get in and out. It really depends on how quickly you can get me what I need.”

“And that is?”

“How do you want it done?” He takes a moment to think about it as he pushes open his office door and leads her inside. Steve closes the door, locking just the two of them inside. The White Wolf pours both of them a glass of whiskey and hands one to her before taking a seat on a massive leather couch. However with him and his overwhelming presence on it, it looks child sized. He motions for her to sit in a chair across from him and she hestiants but he insists.

“That’s up to you, little snake. You want him to suffer, right?” he asks as he takes a sip, wincing at the blissful feeling of the burn.

“Don’t turn this on me,” she pauses, realizing that she only knows him by his alias, “I don’t know your name.”

“My name?” “That’s what I just said.”

He narrows his eyes at her before giving her the answer she seeks, “James.”

“Don’t turn this on me, JAMES. It’s not about what I want, this is about your little fight with him,” she snarks at him, “The only reason why I’m involved is because of opportunity. You saw a chance to get back at him for whatever reason and preyed on me because of my past with him.”

James reclines in his seat, allowing himself to enjoy her anger and admire her in the process.

“Did he tell you what this is all about?”

“No but I don’t exactly care either. All men have an ego the size of the sun and turn to violence when it gets bruised.”

He chokes on his drink at her appraisal but agrees nonetheless, “Fair enough. So what do you need?”

“I’ll need a Beretta M9A4 with a silencer, an M4, and a set of knives.”

“Strange list, anything else?”

“A getaway car and a driver.”

“I’ll have Sam do it.”

“Hm,” she stops him after taking a sip of her drink, “No, I don’t trust him.”

“I really don’t think trust should be something you’re worrying about right now.”

Y/N slips her heels off and draws her legs onto the chair with her, getting as comfortable as she can to level a bored look at him. James takes in her form as she’s curled into herself and he wets his lips with his tongue.

“Who do you want then?”

“Steve.”

A beat passes.

“Or you.”

He questions her with a smirk as he slides through down into the leather couch. He’s lounging at this point, completely ignoring the fact they’re discussing murder.

“Me?”

“I don’t trust any of your men and most certainly not you but you wouldn’t do anything to put me in harm’s way if you’re involved.”

His phone rings and he picks it up, eyes never leaving hers, “Hello?”

She can’t make out what the other person is saying but she can tell they’re frantic. James lets out an annoyed sigh and closes his eyes as his head hits the back of the couch, mumbling along as the person on the other side rambles on and on. His attention being off of her gives her the opportunity to really look at him.

Eyes taking over him, Y/N takes in the way his midnight blue suit compliments his eyes and how his white shirt underneath is unbuttoned in an absurdly attractive manner. Just under his suit jacket is a hint of leather, a holster she assumes given what little she knows of him.

“He’s not going to do anything and even if he did, I have people close by.”

The sheer dismissive tone brings her back to his face where she locks eyes with him. He must have lifted his head when she wasn’t looking and was most certainly watching her checking him out. She finishes the rest of her drink and sets the empty glass on the coffee table between them.

“Încetează. Seriously calm down and use your brain, Klaus. He’s not going to do anything stupid. If he did, he would ruin any chance of survival he has. ”

She gives him a questioning look and he winks at her instead of explaining.

When he hangs up, she immediately jumps into her line of questions to which he explains that her brother has been working with him for some time now.

“Klaus? As in my brother Niklaus? He’s helping you?”

“He came to me last year and asked if I would help him with… some business.”

“Why did you make a deal with me if you already had one with my brother?”

“It never hurts to have multiple options.”

She groans in frustration and rubs at her temples. Of course she would’ve been suckered into some farce of a deal by a shady businessman. The temptation to throw something at him becomes too strong and she hurls one of her heels at him. It misses and clatters to the ground behind him to which he chuckles at and gets to his feet. His shoes scuffle the floor as he pours himself another glass. Rather than sitting back in his original place, James rounds the coffee table and sits in front of her on it.

“Brock would see it coming if I had Klaus do it regardless of how good your brother thinks he is. You, on the other hand,” he starts, pointing at her, “are the perfect option. He still has hope that you’ll find it in your heart to love daddy again so you still have a chance to gain his trust hence why I brought you here. Taking you away from him builds the tension, makes him sweat, makes him vulnerable and reckless. It puts him in the perfect position for me to release you back to him and boom my Rumlow problem is gone.”

“You still haven’t told me what he did.”

James leans forward so he’s invading her space, “It didn’t seem important a minute ago.”

Y/N matches him and leans forward too, “Well it is now. What did he do?”

“He killed a very good friend of mine.”

“You have friends?” She laughs at him and before she can stop him, he grips her braid again and pulls her off the chair and onto the ground before him.

He yanks her towards him and whispers in her ear, “Learn when to stop, little snake. It’s unbecoming of you.”

She glares him with all the hatred she feels for men like him but it flatters when his eyes flicker from hers to her lips parted due to the pain in her scalp.

"You look good on your knees for me," he lets spill out before releasing her.

She knows that he meant for it to come out but nonetheless she throws herself back as far as she can to get away from him. James, the flirty and seemingly harmless man is gone and in his place the White Wolf reemerges. He smirks at her desperate attempt to put space between them and winks at her again, this time making her body revolt at the gesture. Standing, he leaves the room without another word to her.

Whatever safety and trust she hoped to gain tonight is gone the moment he closes that door.

She’s alone.

Completely and utterly alone.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #mob au #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes imagine #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes reader insert #marvel #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader #as good a reason bucky barnes

78 notes · View notes

samdeancass · 1 year

Text

Requested by Anonymous

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Halloween Event

Halloween Masterlist

Warning: Swearing.

"So, Nat, tell me again. Why are we digging up a dead body in a creepy graveyard?"

She rolled her eyes and stopped digging, leaning on the shovel to look at you. "We're digging up this dead body, Y/N, to prank Tony. Remember what he did last year? Putting a real tarantula in the Halloween decorations? This time, we're using an actual dead body to decorate the tower. See how he likes it."

You grimaced at the thought of lugging a dead body out of the ground and into the tower. "Couldn't you have asked someone else to do this? You know how I get with things like this." "Don't be a priss. Help me lift it out." You both opened the lid to the coffin and held your breath as the overwhelming smell of decaying flesh invaded the air. "Fuck me, that's ripe."

You both waited a few minutes before leaning in and slowly lifting the body out. "This is the most disgusting thing I've ever done. I never thought that one day, I'd be scooping a body out of a grave just for a prank. I mean, I'm a trained assassin." You grabbed the feet as Natasha grabbed the head and headed back to the tower. "Yeah, but you're a trained assassin who lives with Tony Stark. Surely, you'd have known that you'd do something like this." You shook your head. "Never crossed my mind, Nat, seriously."'

You both got strange looks as you walked through the entrance of Stark Tower carrying a body. However, Clint spotted the two of you and walked over, poking it. "That is the most life like decoration I've ever seen. Where'd you find it?" "Never you mind, Barton." Nat narrowed her eyes at him before leading the way up the stairs and into the main hallway which was the last thing to be decorated. "Right, let's sit it against the wall." You both maneuvered the body into the correct position and waited.

You watched out of the corner of your eyes as multiple people walked past. Sam scrunched his nose as he went past whereas Steve took one look at it and completely bypassed it, going the long way around. Then the person you wanted appeared: Tony.

"What in the fuck is that smell?! It smells like someone's died." You and Natasha ducked down and stifled your giggles as Tony was trying to figure out what was causing the smell. He began sniffing the air, much to his dismay, and came across the body.

"What the hell?" He leaned in and touched it, heaving as his finger sunk right in. "That is absolutely disgusting. "Who's left a dead body in the hallway?! What have I told you guys about disposing of them properly and not leave them to rot on my carpets!"

He raised an eyebrow when he heard giggling coming from the lounge area and crossed his arms when he seen the tops of yours and Natasha's heads behind the sofa. "Romanoff, L/N. Get that fucking dead body out of here. I'm all for Halloween decor but that's taking the piss."

You and Natasha ran off but not before giving him a smug smirk. "Not a chance in hell, Stark. Consider this payback for the tarantula last year."

Marvel Tags:

@redcoatgirl

#halloween #halloween event #halloween 2023 #halloween event 2023 #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfiction #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction

68 notes · View notes

therandosfandos · 2 years

Text

Have these things I made for my ship

Key/Mean Steve x Coffin x Colin x Tony

I'll have to make one for colin and tony too-

29 notes · View notes

demi-rxndxm-stxff · 16 days

Text

I need DHMIS requests

Please. Someone send a dhmis requests. I am BURSTING with creativity! PLEASE! Anything! Including any of these ships(And possibly any others you like!): DigitalTime (Colin x Tony) LampNold (Shrignold x Lamp) FluffyBird (Harry x Duck) MeatLocker (Steak guy x Fridge) DeadEndJob (Briefcase x Coffin) CreativeSpark (Electracey x Sketchbook) Yellow Guy x Claire

And some rules: No NSFW No Hateful Art Slightly suggestive stuff is fine Please send something! My main inbox be lookin empty as fuck.

#dhmis #dhmis fandom #dhmis digital time #dhmis lampnold #dhmis fluffybird #dhmis meatlocker #dhmis dead end job #dhmis creativespark #digitaltime #lampnold #fluffybird #dead end job #creativespark #i need requests

9 notes · View notes

dont-hug-me-its-yuri · 3 months

Note

If you had to rank all the ships involving Coffin (like Doomsday, Dead End Job, Deathbed + others) how would you rank them and why?

I’m a multishipper so I don’t really hate any ship unless it’s like…weird…so this is gonna be more of me explaining my dynamics for them ^_^

Doomsday/Time of death (Tony x Coffin)

I really like Tony and Coffin as a duo a lot due to time and death being linked together in a way, I don’t think I’ve mentioned this but Coffin definitely views death as a reward of some kind, they don’t think life is meaningless or horrible, they just view death as a reward for getting through life and its many obstacle

While Tony views time almost like some ethereal god like being that controls every waking moment of the puppets lives, they get along through their outlooks on life and how they both think Time is great and amazing (Coffin doesn’t view it as something ethereal like Tony though she views it in a much more natural way)

I think Tony would definitely develop a crush on Coffin of some kind mainly because he hasn’t met anyone that actual cared about time on a similar level to him (also in my mind they’re queerplatonic partners but shhhh)

Dead end job (Briefcase x Coffin)

They are getting their own post. You will wait for my madness.

Tissue Box x Coffin (I don’t think it has a name)

I view them as found/foster siblings so I don’t personally ship it myself but I do like the trope of old married couple that care a lot about each other that I usually see it presented as

But in my mind they were those siblings that always seemed to absolutely hate each other as kids and fought all the time and then mellowed out completely in their adult years and are now chill around each other

Deathbed/Foreversleep (Lamp x Coffin)

like Doomsday, I think this is one where their lessons are kinda connected in this case, by Coffins words “Death is just like an extra long nap so it’s like infinite dreams!” I think they would be friends but on more terms of “if their the only person who’s available and they wants to hang out, I’ll do it.”

They definitely have smoked weed together before. I never told you guys Coffin wasn't a stoner.

Bluescreen (Colin x Coffin)

Coffin and Colin would get along cause they’re both kinda nerdy and have a dislike for being touched out of nowhere, Coffin would actually be one of the few allowed to mess around in Colin’s digital world with him since Colin would feel comfortable enough around her and knows Coffin probably won’t install a virus in him somehow

Lethal love/Till death do us part (Shrignold x Coffin)

I’ve already talked about them being fucked up little frenemies but there is a bit of romantic subtext to it like Coffin is Shrignolds semi-lesbian awakening like Shrignold just looks at Coffin laughing or doing something and thinks “Wow, she’s pretty…” before calling themselves several slurs internally

I think that’s all the Coffin ships, that I’ve seen at least, if I missed any just tell me and I’ll put it in the comments :3

tldr

dead end job

Doomsday

Deathbed

Bluescreen

Lethal Love

Tissue box x Coffin

literally do not hate any of these btw ship what you want idk you are welcome here

#Ahhh I hate not being able to coherently talk about my thoughts #Tw drugs mention #i guess #long ass post sorry #Not including Duck x Coffin cause it’s a joke ship I made up and they already have a dynamic in the show #I really like the Tony mediator headcanon I saw once especially in the context of Doomsday #I’m gonna take A long fat nap now holy #If you actually read the tags…haiii #dhmis #:3 #dhmis coffin #I’m not tagging all that #paula the postbox!!!#long post #“But I thought your version of Coffin was a lesbian-“ Tony is agender and uses he/She/It they can be yuri

15 notes · View notes

mcufan72 · 2 years

Text

This oneshot got a bit long so I'm going to update it in three parts! I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading!

Caught you !

Loki x fem! Reader

18+, definitely/Enemies to lovers/idiots in love/some harsh language, some harsh actions/sass/ angst/hurt/some inappropriate behaviour/self-gratification; I hope that's it

Part 1

How much you loved the afternoon breaks from work, drinking some tea and talking with Wanda and Nat about anything and everyone and of course telling a lot of nonsense. It was always so much fun and it was the nicest time of your workdays. The three of you were sitting in the lounge area of the compound and enjoying your afternoon tea.

You didn't feel very good today, it was a mixture of a slight headache and an undefined feeling of pain in your lower abdomen that made you feel bad but there was also some kind of sexual desire lurking in your nether regions, between your thighs…but talking to your friends was the best distraction you could get right now. So you definitely enjoyed meeting your friends now and talking to them instead of being alone and close to crying tears of self-pitying.

And like every time when you thought nothing could disturb the peaceful meeting with your friends, he showed up. The thorn in your flesh, the final nail to your coffin, the nightmare of your sleepless nights, the overbearing nerve-wrecking Loki Laufeyson aka God of Mischief.

Trickster, Prankster, mischief maker, impeccable, insatiable and irresistible womanizer and world's best lover…if it was true what the women, who had shared his bed with him, told at party nights in Stark Tower. For you Tony's parties were just a vanity fair…so in your opinion it was the perfect place for Loki Laufeyson to get desired, admired and worshiped as he wished for.

You desired him too but he didn't desire you. From the first day on when you met him, there was this sexual tension between you two. You tried to ignore it but it didn't work. For him you were just a sparring partner when it came to exchanges of sarcasm, impertinence and dark humor …it must be like this, you were sure about that. He wasn't into you and why should he.

You couldn't keep up with the beautiful flawless women he surrounded himself with and as a god he could have the most beautiful women in the universe, so why should he choose you? And if there was something you definitely did not want to be then it was another notch in his bedpost. You decided to ignore your crush on him and to better not like him. It made things easier…battling him playfully was so much easier than to love him… definitely.

"Showtime, ladies" Nat snarled and sipped eye-rolling at her tea when she saw Loki entering the lounge area.

You sighed in annoyance and cursed him inwardly. Why couldn't he stay away? At least in the afternoons? Nothing nice ever comes from his mouth then.

"Ah, good afternoon ladies…enjoying your…little coffee gossip?" He asked mischievously. His deep voice sounded extremely erotic to you today.

An unmistakable, alluring scent lingered in the air… your scent, and it undeniably hit his senses and the urge to be close to you grew again. Your today's choice of clothes made him lick his lips, the black trousers hugged your wonderfully formed butt perfectly and your also black tight-fitting turtleneck shirt emphasized your beautiful upper body.

"Get lost, Laufeyson!" you scolded at him and left the chill out lounge towards the kitchen to get you another tea, Loki was on your heels immediately.

"Uhh, someone's in a very good mood today… don't run away, little one, don't you want to tell me what you were gossiping about… or did you rave about me?"

He ran around you once like a happy puppy and then he walked backwards in front of you until you both had reached the kitchen counter. You couldn't stop eye-rolling and laughing irritated.

"...and I mean… I wouldn't mind!" He built himself up to full size, straightened up the collar of his not completely buttoned up black tight shirt to give you a good view of his chest hair and a smug smile appeared on his much too pretty face. He knew exactly what he did.

"Doesn't it get tiring, being so self-righteous and arrogant, Laufeyson?" you asked him with faked kindness and batted your eyes at him. The sight of his chest nearly knocked you out today. You could hardly stop yourself from drooling and staring at him. If he would ask you to bend over the kitchen counter to fuck you, you would do it without any hesitation.

"Hmmm…no, it doesn't…it just makes me… thirsty…" he grinned at you and in a quick move he stole your cup with the fresh tea and with fast long steps he walked away from you, sipping the warm liquid…the tea you made was always the best.

"LAU-FEY-SON, that was my tea! We're not in Asgard here and I'm not your servant. Make your tea on your own…" you yelled angry after him and clenched your fingers to fists…and you wanted to bite into his perfect ass.

"Thank you, darling and have a nice afternoon…oh and I like the mug…I think I'll keep it!" he answered, turned his head to look and wink at you smugly and off he went.

"Aaarrrggghhh…this guy is driving me crazy…and now he had stolen my tea AND my favorite mug… I'll kill him one day…!" you bickered.

"Yes, yes…" Nat murmured smilingly over the rim of her cup. She and Wanda looked at each other, softly clinking their mugs and couldn't hide a knowing grin. Of course you heard and saw it…

"What? I HATE him, why can't he leave me alone?" you yammered.

You got yourself a new cup of tea and you three continued your chatting in peace. You didn't want to think or talk about him further. After one more hour of boring desk work you decided to go to bed early and to declare the day finished.

Of course you weren't able to stop thinking about this smugly guy. Loki didn't just annoy you this afternoon, he aroused you immensely. For you it was his tight black shirt today, halfway open, tucked into his also tight grey jeans that suits him so well, and the scent of his cologne mixed with his very own masculine scent…he smelled kind of animalistic for you this afternoon and you were so extremely turned on by it, you would like to jump at him and you wanted him to fuck you relentlessly. You accelerated your steps back to your room, you needed some friction between your legs. Your fingers, pillows, whatever…you didn't care, the main thing was a quick relief before you would combust of desire.

When you had entered your rooms, you hastily closed your door and got rid of your clothes as fast as possible. The only clothes that stayed on your body were your bodice and your panties drenched with your juices of arousal.

'Loki, you bastard!'

You couldn't wait anymore, you needed to touch yourself and you laid down in your bed quickly. You started with rubbing your erect nipples but it wasn't enough…so you let your hand quickly slip down further, into your panties between your wet folds and massaged over and around your needy clit with two of your fingers, Loki permanently on your mind. Soft moans escaped your mouth, you licked your lips in desperate need of getting kissed by him …how much you wished it was Loki who finger-fucked your dripping pussy with his beautiful long fingers, his thumb rubbing over and around your bundle of nerves…

"Loki.." …you melted away into boundless ecstasy …almost there, you were almost there… "I'm cumming…" and you had overheard the knocks at your door and almost too late you recognised someone came into your room.

As soon as Loki entered your privacy, you pulled your fingers quickly away from your wet pussy and put that said hand under your head, trying to pretend you were just chilling in your bed. You had been almost there and now you could barely hide your reddened cheeks and your heavy breathing. Hopefully he didn't see the thin layer of sweat above your upper lip and on your forehead. Hopefully he didn't hear or see anything.

How embarrassing! Getting caught during masturbation by the god of hotness…ahhh… mischief. How good that you didn't scream his name. You should better think of flower meadows and butterflies now …and..wait…how dare he enter your room? Did you allow him to come in? Nooo…you definitely did not.

"What are you doing here in my room?" you snarled at him with powerful indignation in your voice. Was there some insecurity in his gaze? No, you must have been wrong. He just would tease you further right now.

"Oh dear, the door wasn't closed properly so I came in after I knocked at it and I thought I …hmm the question is what are you doing right now? Did I interrupt something?" he asked, the familiar arrogance in his voice.

"Nothing of your concern…and no..you did not!" you tried to convince him.

Could it be that you hadn't closed the door behind you? Have you been that horny that you couldn't wait anymore rubbing your fingers through your folds and around your little gem that you didn't close your door properly? Have you really been that aroused?

"Did you just touch yourself, sweetheart?" he asked smugly.

"Nooo…no no…no I did not touch myself…and it's none of your business either." You answered way too quickly but still tried to convince him that you did nothing but chill. A pathetic try.

"Are you sure, darling?" He asked you sardonically.

'Note to me: never lie to the god of mischief and lies...'

"Yeesss …I'm sure. " you answered convinced.

"And I'm sure you did. I'm sorry that I disturbed you pleasuring yourself…by the way…did you think of me while doing so?" he asked you smugly while he crossed his arms in front of his chest..and you just wanted to punch him into his adorable face. How arrogant can someone be?

"Why should I've thought of you while I pleasured myself…you're not that hot and desirable that I…"

'...oops..of course I thought of him…shit I lied again…'

He walked over to you slowly, you were still laying in your bed under the duvet. He pulled your hand from under your head and took your index-and middle finger into his mouth and licked them clean while staring into your eyes, testing the waters how you would react now. His baby-blue eyes tried to seduce you and seemed to stare deep into your heart…he loved how you tasted and his eyes darkened and sparkled with lust.

'Oh god…why?…stop doing this…no..please don't stop…is there…something going on in his jeans?...nah, wishful thinking…'

You were so close to giving in to him.

"Mmmmhhhhmmm…" he hummed with his deep baritone and took your fingers out of his mouth again, licking his lips lasciviously. "Delicious…So you admit it, you just touched yourself…I knew it and I can smell and taste it, darling. You shouldn't lie to me, little one!" He still held your hand in his. It felt good.

"Stop calling me that. I'm not your darling, sweetheart or little one. And …let go of my hand! Are you serious? Who do you think you are, you jerk?" You shouted at him angrily.

"May I be of help with pleasuring you, darling?" he asked cheeky.

"Uurrggh no.…piss off, Laufeyson, get your pompous, arrogant ass out of here!" and you ripped your hand out of his grip.

"Your wish is my order, sweetheart." He took a step backwards and bowed down generously, his smugly smile never left his face.

He turned around and was already on his way back to the door of your room when you threw a pillow after him. He caught it out of the air without looking at it and before it could even hit his head.

"How rude, Darling! ..ah, I nearly forgot… " he turned around again to face you and pointed his index fingers into the air "…that's why I came to you….Tony wants to see us all at 7pm sharp…sooo, there's still enough time for you to…finish what you've started several minutes ago …and feel free to think of me while touching your sweet little gem …"

He wiggled his eyebrows and made a lascivious gesture with his hand, palm upwards, his thumb slightly raised and his index-and middle finger curled up in a 'come-to-me' motion.

"Arrgghh…get the hell out of here, Laufeyson. And give me back my pillow…"

You yelled at him, now sitting in your bed.

"Nope…you threw it after me so I think you don't need it anymore. I'll keep it!" He grinned ironically.

"You're an asshole, Laufeyson,'' you complained.

"I love you too, darling" and with that he nearly left your room but he shoved his head through the door frame into your room again and asked full of sarcasm: "…what exactly must I do to make you open your wonderful thighs for me? I'm sure you'd look ravishing, greedily waiting for me, with spread legs…"

"…uuuurrrgggh, Laufeyson, you damn stupid bastard! Go and fuck your whores…" you screamed in his direction and he left your room with a mischievous laughter right in time, closing your door with a dramatic gesture, before another pillow hit the door.

You nearly cried after he had left and you pulled the duvet over your head. You weren't aroused anymore, just embarrassed. How should you ever look into his beautiful eyes again? Now he would never stop making fun of you. Why were you so thin skinned, horny and angry when you were ovulating? …you just wanted to ease some of the physical pain and the sexual desire of your sensitive body…and now that…and why did you constantly respond to his provocations?

And worst of all, now he got the confession that you had a crush on him. But you couldn't help yourself, he was your beloved enemy and you couldn't live without him.

'What is wrong with me? … damn why can't I restrain myself?…I not only acted like the biggest asshole in town, I also acted like an animal in urgent need to get myself off, eagerly and desperately trying to fuck an ovulating female creature… to impregnate her or what…seriously?

She's so lovely and adorable. I must be disgusting and pathetic in her eyes…and I overstep her private boundaries permanently…if I were her I would hate me too… but she pulls me to her like a magnet, every single day…and she was too alluring today...and didn't she say my name and 'come in' ?...I really thought she did … I would've made love to her if she had asked me to do it. I really thought today is the day…She really drives me crazy…'

Besides his primal needs today, he truly wanted you. Of course he smelled you every time on your special days of a month, it's a part of his Jotun roots and it intoxicated him like a love spell, more than you did anyways every day but there was more than this basic instinct. Deep inside of him Loki knew that he had fallen for you. And after this long time living here together with you, you around him permanently with that constant sexual tension between you two, he really thought you wanted him to bed you today.

He interpreted the slightly open door as an invitation and he really thought you asked him in after he had knocked at the door. And of course he knew what you did in your bed under your duvet. He sensed it before he entered your room. As soon as he recognised that he misunderstood the whole situation, he felt embarrassed and he felt honestly sorry to have pressed you like this. He needed to hide his fault and remorse and so he began to tease you again as you are used to from him…but he couldn't stand the still remaining sexual tension lingering in your bedroom.

Everything about you made him love you since the first day he met you ….even your hate for him. He especially loved your sass, your sarcasm, your dark humor, the way you responded to his provocations. You had everything he loved about a woman. You were just right for him. Sometimes his provocations were a bit over the top and too much…but every day when he met you, you were willing to banter and fight with him playfully over and over again.

And he loved to play these games with you and he hoped instantly you loved it too. It was the old game of 'tease the ones you love.' It was the only way for him, to stay close to you, to talk to you. Could it be that he…no…absolutely not! He was sure you would never let him make you his, never and so he preferred to fuck around with random women to not think too much about you, it made things easier for him.

…and anyways, he wasn't the type for a serious relationship, was he?

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

@lokisprettygirl

@wheredafandomat

@fictive-sl0th

#loki #loki x reader smut #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #loki x reader fluff #loki x reader angst #loki laufeyson smut #loki laufeyson x female reader #loki laufeyson fanfic

304 notes · View notes