#and house just smiles because wilson is paying attention to him :)

[marc--chilton]

btw can u imagine how much more insane houses very brief domestic era (that one episode where he was cooking and doing wilson’s laundry) would be in the omegaverse. First of Wilson 2would probably worry he had gone through some sort of fucked up conditioning in his rehab/therapy treatment to make him act more “traditional” and meanwhile house is just pre-heat thinking that since he’s living with wilson maybe if he takes over some of the household duties he might put a baby in him :)

FUCKED UP CONDITIONING OAUGHHGH that would be so fucking scary for wilson to even consider. i drove my best friend to mayfield and he came back brainwashed. he starts looking into the place, trying to find out if it's has some fucked up conversion camp "treatment", like demented levels of study and theorizing and obsession only capable of someone who willingly allies themselves with greg house.

then the camera cuts to house in the kitchen, apron on, limping from cutting board to cutting board, humming as he makes some of The Best Food wilson will ever eat. he's not perfect, he's not fixed, but he's better now. now he just needs to prove to wilson he's Good Enough. he can be a Good Omega if given the chance

[velaryqns]

Can you write a house md imagine where the reader is a nurse and she always butts in on what the diagnosis might be and he always brushes it off but she's been right a handful of times?

Always right

pairing: greg house x fem!reader

fandoms: house md

warnings: none?

disclaimer: do not repost my works onto any other platforms, and if you see my writing somewhere on an account that I have not confirmed to have: please let me know.

I sighed from behind the nurse’s station, filling out a patient form while waiting for Cuddy to leave the patient’s room. A loud voice grabbed my attention, and I looked up from my writing to see House limping into the clinic.

“Greg,” I greeted and rose to my feet, ready to approach him to silence his loud remarks, “you’re disrupting my patients.”

His blue eyes found my own at the sound of me warning him. He gave a fake apology and walked to the station, leaning on it, “Can I get a refill on my prescription?”

“Have you considered walking with your cane on the right side?”

“No,” House shook his head.

I grinned, slammed a folder shut and leaned in, “Then no.”

“I’ll just go to Cuddy,”

“She’s busy with a patient,” I countered, walking away from the edge of the counter. I grabbed a prescription pad and threw it at him, “Bother Wilson.”

“You’re not supposed to be indulging me,”

“No, but you won’t leave me alone,” I shook my head, not bothering to look at House. I knew he’d be watching me with wide eyes and a raised brow, hand resting on the pad as he considered if I was fibbing or not. I finally glanced up, “Greg.”

“Y/n,”

I scowled and he smiled, then lifted the pad in the air, “Thank you nurse for doing your job, neglecting a cripple…how rude.”

He looked back at me with a sad look on his face, leaning against the door and walking backward while the people on the waiting room looked between the both of us. I clenched my jaw, a hand clamping into a fist while I approached the counter, “I only neglect addicts.”

That silenced him, shock crossing his face before he left the room. A throat was cleared beside me and I jumped to see Cuddy standing in the station with a raised brow.

“Thank you for not giving in, but the public scene is no better,” she held a folder out me and I muttered an apology while taking it from her, “now I’d better go save, Wilson.”

I sat back down at my desk in the nurses station, checking in patients and letting the doctors and other nurses give their check ups. It was going to be a long day.

By lunch, I’d weaseled my way to House and Wilson’s table. His ‘Ducklings’, Chase, Allison, and Foremen, were seated at the next table. They all looked fed up with him for the day. Chase watched in disbelief as I sat down right next to Wilson, completely ignoring House’s warning stare.

“So,” I set my lunch down and began situating myself. I could feel the eyes of the team on me the entire time, “What’s the case today?”

“Dystopia, tremors, chorea, blepharospasm, ataxia,” House spat the words out, stealing a fry from Wilson with every one. I watched with a raised brow, “anemia…”

“Have you tested the pancreas?” I asked nonchalantly, taking a bite of my lunch. The team gaped at me and House rolled his eyes.

“No, but I’m assuming that based on how much you’re correct you expect us to?” House sent me a fake smile and I returned one.

“Why yes, of course,” I tilted my head and took another bite, “Have you done any Iron tests?”

He scoffed, “Of course we have, nothing.”

I hummed dubiously and he sighed, glancing toward the ducklings, “go run more iron tests and check the pancreas.”

“How do you even-“ Foreman started but then held a hand in the air, “never mind, I’m better off not knowing.”

I chuckled while he walked away with the rest of the team, then turned to House, “How much are you gonna pay up if I’m right?”

“Nothing, because you’re wrong,”

Even Wilson have a doubtful noise before scurrying away from the table to return to his department. House glanced at me, then stood and left. I finished my lunch and returned to the clinic, sitting at the station and resuming to what I’d been before lunch.

A few hours passed when House limped in, lips pressed in a thin line as he dropped a clipboard on the desk. I started, eyes shooting wide as I rose to my feet.

“Give us a diagnosis, Nurse y/l/n,”

“Very funny,” I lifted the clipboard and read it over, “Iron accumulation in the pancreas.”

I hummed and held the clipboard down, staring off into the distance before I glanced back at House. He looked at me expectantly, “Aceruloplasminemia.”

“Do you know how rare-“

“Yes I know how rare, but I also know it comes down to genetics and you need to hear me out on this,” I held the clipboard toward him, “again.”

He took the clipboard and left in silence, but I didn’t miss the slight glare he sent to me at the same time. It’s not often that he comes to me for help, but every time I’ve been right. So he won’t fight me on this one.

A few more hours passed and I was cleaning up the clinic for the night, most other nurses had left and Cuddy was back in her office. The door opened and I looked up from what I was sorting at the desk to see House once more.

“Greg,”

“Y/n,”

“Just tell me I’m right so we can get this over with,” I sighed and tossed a folder aside. I rounded the desk and leaned against it.

House stood in front of me, both hands on his cane while watching me. I folded my arms and raised a brow expectantly. House eventually have a reluctant sigh, and took another step toward me, “You were right.”

“What a shocker,” I responded with a smirk, taking a long pause between each word and inching closer toward him, “you’re welcome.”

“I didn’t thank you,” he shook his head.

“No, but you will for everything else,” I whispered and grabbed him by the back of his neck. House leaned in and was quick to press his lips against mine.

He pulled away and looked down at me, “Maybe.”

“What are we wanting for supper?” I asked him and turned back to the station.

“I think you need to stop giving your input in my cases,” he raised a brow while I began putting files away once more.

I hummed, “I don’t like the sounds of that.”

“I’m trying to challenge my team,”

“And it’s fun to aggravate you,”

“You’re right about that,” he huffed.

“I’m always right, Greg,” I didn’t bother looking up at him, because the scoff he gave while rounding the station to sit in my desk chair was an answer enough.

[jumexju]

¿OH, QUÈ SERÀ?

Pairing !! : House / Reader

Fic Type !! : Oneshot / Fluff

CW !! : House's jokes (He's an ass), reader is latino/a (gender isn't specified), untranslated spanish is used

Summary !!: He made a bet with Wilson.. and lost.

Note !! : the house md brainrot is consuming me lol (szn 5 is making me physically ill)

✦ MASTERLIST

“You Like them!” Wilson barged into House’s office as if he had made a grand discovery. House dismissed his team and continued eating his tacos de birria, waiting for Wilson to expand on his outrageous claim of him liking a woman. “It’s been three weeks and they're still living with you, ergo: You haven't kicked them out or you haven’t told me — and the latter can’t be true because you tell me everything!” The blonde had his hands on his hips while he talked. 

“Who? _____?” House asked, feigning confusion. “They cook and they're not boring. Plus they clean- And for free too!” 

“Not for free, they need a place to live, they're probably just being courteous, House!” Wilson warned, “You’re trying to hide the fact that you care about them because then it makes you seem more human and you don’t want that because you hate when people see your nice side!” The Oncologist kept lecturing him but he wasn’t really paying any attention to it. 

“I have a nice side?” House's words dripped with sarcasm. He did, however, seem to be enjoying the birria tacos you’d made the day before. Apparently it was a big thing in latin american culture to cook as if you were feeding a whole village, so you had a lot left over. 

“Yes, you have a-! That’s why you’re letting them stay!” Wilson argued, a boyish smile on his face at the realization that his friend had a crush on a fellow colleague. 

“I’m not letting them do anything, I’m just taking advantage of their cooking and cleaning skills.” He dipped the end of the taco in the consumè you’d made, savoring the explosion of flavor that was currently happening  in his mouth. 

“You know that’s not true.” Wilson sat in front of House’s desk, facing him with the smile still present. “You L-I-K-E  them,” The blonde spelled out, “Just admit it!” 

“If I do, will you leave me and my tacos  alone?” House lifted a brow as he licked his index finger and thumb. 

“You didn’t happen to delete a message they were expecting from an apartment manager, did you? ,” Wilson questioned, a knowing look on his face. 

“... No-”

“Aha!” Wilson exclaimed, “Your hesitance indicates that you did! Jeez, just ask them out, House. It’s not that hard,” Wilson shrugged, “Unless you’re too chicken of course…” 

“You wanna bet?” House laid back in his chair, empty tupperware sitting on his desk as he smirked. 

“A hundred dollars if  you ask them out and go out on a genuine date.” Wilson said as he crossed his arms. See, he knew something that House didn’t. Around a few months ago, you confided in Wilson and told him about your feelings for House. However, when Wilson had suggested that you ask him out, you said you didn’t want to risk it, especially because you knew there was a high chance he wouldn’t reciprocate. Of course, Wilson said it was reasonable and left it alone, listening to your vents about House and whatnot whenever your attempts to bury your feelings failed. 

Unfortunately for House, You were a great actor, because not even he knew of your feelings for him. You kept it professional, or well tried to before you had to move out. You didn’t tell him the details of that, but somehow you ended up living in House’s…  house. Certain that you would say no, House replied: “If you lose, you owe me a hundred.” With that, the bet was in place and House couldn’t be more excited to get his hundred dollars tomorrow and see the defeated look on Wilson’s face when he told him that there was no date. 

With a pep in his step, House could hear the faint salsa playing before he even opened the door. His keys jingled while finding the right one but before he could insert it into the lock, you opened the door. Did you recognize the jingle of his keys? “Hey? You’re back late.” You smiled before leaving him to walk in and close the door himself. 

“Yeah it Wilson was begging me not to go, He’s clingy.” House joked. 

“You guys make the cutest couple,” You said sarcastically as you stirred the rice you were making. 

House sat on the couch and popped a pill, “I wear the pants in the relationship, just so you know.” 

“Yeah I can’t picture you wearing a skirt,” 

“I can picture you wearing a skirt,” House insinuated as he checked you out, “You’ve got a great ass for it.” 

You rolled your eyes, “You’ve gone senile, Atrevido.” You shook your head and laughed at his comments. “Has that line ever worked on anyone?” 

“Usually,” House shrugged.

“Yeah maybe back in your day,” You finished off the rice and began slicing the potatoes you’d put off to the side earlier. “Anyway, You haven’t heard any messages about  the apartments I applied at, have you? They said they’d call me back like two weeks ago and I haven’t heard anything.” 

House pursed his lips and acted clueless, “Nope, Nada.” The older man shrugged and positioned his feet on the coffee table in front of him. “What are you making?” 

“Carne con papa y arroz,” You told him. “My mom used to make it for me as a kid and I missed the taste so I’m making it. ¿Te terminaste los tacos de birria que hice ayer?” 

“Yeah.” House left out the part where he smacked Wilson’s hand for trying to steal a taco. 

“What’d you think of them?” 

“They weren’t horrible.” House, being himself of course, wouldn’t admit that he loved them. 

You smiled to yourself, knowing House, that was probably the closest you were going to get to a compliment about your food. Because the tupperware was basically clean, you could tell he actually liked them. For House, his actions usually spoke louder than his words. Once the meat finished cooking, you added the potatoes and put the lid over the pot, the only thing left to do was to wait for the potatoes to soften. With a sigh of relief, you grabbed your cup of mango-strawberry flavored wine and hummed the tune that played softly in the kitchen as you walked over to the couch to sit next to House. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, House spoke up. 

“Do you wanna go on a date?” 

You looked up from your magazine, “A date?” 

House slowly nodded, “That’s what I said, yeah.” 

You shrugged, “As long as you’re paying.” You chuckled and kept reading your magazine, you didn’t even take a moment to mull it over. House was a little surprised by your lack of hesitance, but it was overshadowed by his disappointment. 

“Wait, really?” House asked but he didn’t seem thrilled by your willingness to go on a date with him. 

“I mean, yeah?  It’s free food. It’s not like you like me or anything so why would I pass that up?” You chuckled, “Unless you actually like me, in which case, I probably look like an asshole right now.” Your eyes widened and you put your magazine down. “You don’t like me do you?” 

“No, it was a bet, which — thanks to you — I just lost.” He sighed and slouched into the couch. 

“My bad,” You laughed, “How much did you bet on me saying no?” 

“A hundred dollars.” 

You almost spit out your wine, “You were that sure I’d say no??” 

“I was, up until a moment ago.” House glanced at you as if you’d sabotaged him. 

You patted his arm trying to calm his butthurt-self, a bright smile on your face, “Sorry House, Free food is hard to pass up.” 

“Yeah, Milk the hot doctor of allllll his money, that’s your plan huh?” House looked up at the ceiling. 

“Dunno about the ‘hot’ part but everything else is accurate,” You laughed, picking up your magazine again. 

“Yeah, I’m not as hot as the burning food on the stove right now.” House stated. Your eyes widened as you hopped off the couch, setting the wine on the coffee table and running to the stove. 

“You ass! You couldn’t just  remind me like a normal person??” 

He sipped on your glass of wine as you checked if the food was burnt, “I’m far from normal, I thought you’d’ve known that by now.” House chuckled. 

“You shouldn’t drink when you’re on drugs y’know.” You snatched the cup from him as you sat back down, “You’ll end up doing some serious damage to your brain.” 

“Like I can get any worse, It’s not like I’m dying.” He turned on the TV, the  rom-com you two would watch together came on. 

“Yeah it’d suck if you died,” You finished the cup of wine. 

“Would it?” He asked as he glanced at your lips, wet from the wine. 

“Yeah. Where else would I live?” You met his eyes. 

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Freeloader.” 

“Hey-! I’m cooking and cleaning as payment, so not freeloading.” You nudged him with your elbow, playful smile on your face as you looked back at the TV. 

Maybe Wilson was right. Maybe he did like you. 

Just a bit though.

[ireallylovepupplies101stuff]

Spiderdemon AU 1

First of all, I'd like to thank my friend @midnightfire830 and the people in the discord Inky Mystery for helping me come up with some fun ideas and bits for this AU. It's because of your enjoyment and encouragement that this AU is now on tumblr. So thank you guys, very much. :)

Now, for those of you on tumblr, I'd like to share this AU. It was inspired by the spiderverse movie and seeing all the different versions of spiderpeople. So I hope all of you enjoy what you're about to read!

In this AU, all the Inky Mystery characters are human, it takes place during a modern time period, and Bendy’s spiderman. Or, Spider DEMON.

When Bendy’s in his pre-teens, he and Boris are taken in by Felix who originally fostered them, and then adopted them.

Things are okay for the first couple of years. Bendy starts getting used to being a regular kid and having fun instead of worrying about taking care of himself and Boris. Even Felix's mentor Wilson is a nice grandfather figure to him and Boris.

But then when he's 15, he gets sick. Badly sick.

Doctors say chances aren't good. Felix is clearly trying his hardest to stay strong for Bendy and Boris, but Bendy can tell it's getting hard on him, not to mention how Boris is too scared to leave his side when Bendy’s forced to stay at the hospital when he gets worse. 

When his health takes a turn for the very worst, late one night at the hospital, Bendy wakes up, and sees Wilson standing by his bedside, holding his hand, and smiling gently saying everything is going to be okay.

Too tired, Bendy goes back to sleep as Wilson pulls a jar out of his pocket.

Next morning, for the first time in a while, he feels okay enough to eat breakfast, sit up, and play card/board games with Boris. The Doctors are stunned by how his health practically improved overnight.

They're so shocked they don't pay much attention to the spider bite on his hand.

With all the good that happened though, there is a downside. 

Wilson goes missing after Bendy’s health improves.

Because Wilson’s why Bendy got better. 

He was working with people who were doing experiments on spiders that could benefit the human race, buuuuut he also heard rumors about it being to make humans into deadly super soldiers or something. 

Either way, with Bendy on his deathbed, Wilson took a gamble, stole a spider, and used it to save his life.

Unfortunately, he had to go on the run after that, because he stole from VERY dangerous people.

It was to keep everyone he cares for safe though.

After Wilson’s gone, Bendy and Boris are home alone as Felix is out. Bendy is probably still on bedrest since he recently got out of the hospital. 

Boris is off doing his own thing in his room, when he hears Bendy yelling and things breaking. 

He runs to make sure he's okay, and freezes at the doorway when he finds Bendy standing on the ceiling. 

Boris: .... How are you doing that???

Bendy: I don't know!! Help me down before Felix gets home!!

He gets down, and they clean everything before Felix gets home.

Safe to say they're both freaked out and plan to test out what else Bendy can do once they get the chance.

So the two brothers slip out of their house and find an old empty building to conduct their experiments. Boris taking notes as Bendy does his thing. (Sorta like that scene in SHAZAM)

-They learned that Bendy can walk on walls.

-Can sense danger.

-Has super strength.

-Can move way faster.

You know, the basics for any spiderman. But what's unique for Bendy.

-He can see in the dark.

-He, at first, has limited shapeshifting abilities.

-And his abilities get stronger when he gets angrier.

Also debating if he should have some kind of power where he can blend into the dark/shadows or something. Still working on that.

Bendy and Boris debate on what to do with all of this going on with Bendy. It was probably Boris' idea for him to become a superhero, and Bendy most likely said NO at first. 

He JUST got out of the hospital. He's not doing something crazy like saving the day when he has to study for a test for school. 

But you know, the universe has other ideas.

Sure enough, when he's out on a cold weather day, his face covered to keep it safe from the icy wind, he stops inside a small store to get a snack.

Only for the store to be in the middle of being robbed. Bendy sees kids in the store hiding in the corner, trembling and scared.

So, he gets the scum's attention, uses his phone to take a picture of the robber, and cussing RUNS when the guy gives chase.

When Bendy gets cornered in an alley, he tries warning the robber to back the cuss off. All that achieved was Bendy getting picked up off his feet with a knife pointed at his throat.

Bendy’s eyes then turn red, a tail appears behind him, his gloves rip as his nails turn into claws, his teeth become fangs, and his jacket hoodie rips as horns come out.

The robber SCREAMS.

Police later find the robber, tied up with some old rope or cords or whatever Bendy found in the alley, and Bendy long gone.

Bendy later pulls Boris aside, and tells him that if they're going to do this vigilante thing, he's going to need something to wear.

Boris: ... You want to wear a super suit?

Bendy: *shows him the holes in his hood and gloves* I'm up for hearing your ideas if you have something better in mind.

Boris: Super suit it is!

His spiderman super suit, as a nod to the fic and the game, Bendy's suit would be a faded paper yellow color, looking like black ink was spilled over him, along with the classic spiderweb pattern of course.

He'd also wear goggles, wanting to protect his eyes and keep his night vision from bothering him when he's somewhere bright during battles.

His shape-shifted tail and horns would also be visible, and he and Boris design webs for Bendy to swing on that are black in color.

the media eventually dubbing Bendy, the Spiderdemon.

Now Bendy at first usually sticks with small stuff. stopping robbers, saving people in accidents, basically helping those in need. He doesn't want to do anything crazy considering he's in HIGHSCHOOL.

Boris also becomes his "guy in a chair", since this takes place in a modern time period. Bendy refuses to let him come with when he does dangerous stuff, so Boris builds things that can help Bendy, and uses his crazy impressive computer skills to hack security cameras and stuff to watch Bendy's back and keep him updated through a built-in communication device in Bendy's suit.

He dubs himself "Cyber-Wolf" and uses a cartoony wolf icon to cover his identity when hacking things.

When Bendy graduates highschool and is about to start college though, when out in town, he finds someone he didn't expect to see.

Wilson, looking rough, and exhausted.

The two of them hug, Bendy asking him where the CUSS he's been all these years, and Wilson promising to explain over a meal.

They stop at a diner, and Wilson explains that he had to leave to keep him, Felix, and Boris safe because of a choice he made. How he stole a spider experiment to save Bendy's life, and now the people he stole from are after him because they know he stole it but don't know WHY.

He came back, because he wanted to warn Bendy. the people he took the spider from have been watching Spiderdemon, and they WANT him. What Bendy's doing is noble, but at the same time he's at an incredible risk.

With great power comes great responsibility after all.

Shocked that Wilson is why he has his powers and he knows he's spiderdemon, Bendy would try insisting he'll be fine, that he can protect himself, and protect Wilson if he comes home.

Wilson would be hesitant, but before he can answer Bendy's phone rings. Seeing that Felix is calling him, Bendy promises he'll be right back and tells Wilson not to move because the diner has crappy cell service. Bendy moves to where he can still see Wilson, as he tries telling Felix he found him and where they are, but the MINUTE Bendy looks away then back at the table they were at, Wilson's gone. Only a note is left with "I'm sorry" on it.

Bendy quickly pays for the food, and goes looking for Wilson, hoping he didn't get far.

But then he hears car tires screeching, and then people screaming, someone yelling to call 9-1-1.

Heart dropping, Bendy rushes to the scene. horrified when he sees that Wilson ran into traffic, and got hit.

Wilson's death leaves an impact on Bendy. How someone who cared so much about him gave up everything to save his life, lost his own in the end.

The "great power comes great responsibility" sticks with him and he takes it to heart. After Wilson's funeral, Bendy tells Boris he needs to use the powers he got for bigger things than just stopping petty crooks. Wilson ran from dangerous powerful people, and he couldn't protect him.

He won't allow that to happen again to an innocent person if he can prevent it.

[like-sands-of-time]

Wilson loves that House only truly loves him and his company. He loves that House tolerates his employees or cuddy or the other hospital staff, finds them amusing at times and annoying at others, but he always comes back to him, wilson. He loves that all he has to do to get House's attention is make him notice something different, even the slightest thing. House is the opposite of every man on the planet, because he notices when Wilson gets a haircut, when he switches soaps or colognes. Wilson likes making a scene to get House's attention, likes seeing how far he goes just to figure out what could possibly be different. He feels important, needed, but also wanted.

He likes that House just sort of looks at him quietly when he's talking, and there's the faintest hint of a smile on his lips, but it's mostly in his eyes. Everything about House can be figured out from his eyes. When he's really mad, or frustrated, or fond, Wilson can read his eyes even when his body or his words contradict himself. He likes that he's the only one who can do that. Wilson knows that House is actually very easily amused, but he doesn't want other people knowing that because it destroys his reputation as cold and heartless. Wilson likes that he's the only one that gets to see all of that, unreserved.

He likes House's abrasiveness, bluntness, and inability to follow a normal social contract. He likes that even though House goes out of his way to make Cuddy feel good about herself in her outfits, and he comments on his fellows' looks sometimes, that Wilson is the one he can't take his eyes off of, either when he's in the same room listening, talking, or when he's walking away and House doesn't know Wilson knows he's staring. He likes how good and desirable that makes him feel after so long of knowing each other, that House still picks him.

He likes that House, for as long as they've been living and working in Plainsboro together, has regularly bought them tickets to shows, ranging from monster trucks to the opera, anything the both of them will enjoy. He likes that House just pays for it, doesn't ever say anything about it being a favor that should be repaid. And in turn Wilson buys their lunches, because he likes that House spends the entire time leaned forward so he can reach his hand across and steal food. It gives him an even closer view of House's beautiful blue eyes. He likes when their legs brush together, or their feet tangle under the table. It's silly and juvenile and it's exactly the sort of thing House knows he likes.

He likes that House cares for him as much as Wilson cares for House. It's not equal, it'll never be split 50/50 because House will need help for the rest of his life with his leg and sometimes his insomnia is so bad he can't help his mood swings, but at the end of the day House is there for Wilson whenever he needs him. House is the only one who sees Wilson for every good and bad thing, and still chooses him. No one else sees that, but Wilson does. He can never explain why they're actually perfect together, someone so cold and aloof with someone so emotive and sympathetic.

[ghostofskywalker]

Third Time’s The Charm

Clint Barton/Fem!Reader

Words: 2,249

Summary: Sometimes there really is no such thing as a perfect moment. 

or alternatively: two times Clint was interrupted when trying to ask you out and one time everything went to plan (kind of).

Clint Barton Masterlist • Main Masterlist

You were standing at the front of the conference room fiddling with the day’s presentation on your computer when the door opened and the Avengers started trickling in. Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson walked in first, and Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff followed them and sat down at the long conference table. You had met all the members of the team before, so it wasn’t too nerve wracking to have them walk in and wave politely at you, but it would be the first time you presented about their upcoming mission without either Agent Hill or Director Fury to help, and so the pressure was mostly coming from your own worry and nerves. You looked out at the room and saw Steve raise his eyebrows at Natasha and then gesture to Clint, who wasn’t paying attention to anyone else in the room.

You were almost about to open your mouth to greet everyone (and ask where the rest of the team was, because you were told this would be a full house), but the sound of the door opening distracted you. Wanda Maximoff and the Vision had come walking through the door, and they quickly sat down at the table and offered apologetic smiles when they saw you standing at the front of the room and realized they were probably late. “Is anyone else supposed to be attending this meeting?” There was at least one noticeable absence, as Tony was nowhere to be seen, but you weren’t sure if the others knew something you didn’t.

“I think Tony-” Steve started to say, right as the door swung open and the missing billionaire came strolling in, coffee cup in hand.

“You called, Capsicle?” Tony said, and then he noticed you. “Hey Barton, your-”

Your attention was piqued when he mentioned Clint, but unfortunately you didn’t get to hear the rest of the sentence, because Natasha silenced Tony with a death glare so powerful you almost felt a little guilty yourself. “Alright everyone,” you said, directing attention to the screen behind you so that you could begin the presentation. “We have located what he believes to be a HYDRA base that is currently being used for reconnaissance about two hours' drive from here, in upstate New York. While we don’t know exactly what they’re doing, it seems like it could be a training facility, which is something we definitely want to shut down as soon as possible.”

Steve raised his hand, and you nodded. “I know Fury mentioned something about a mission we might be going on next week. Is this it, or is that something else?”

You nodded. “Nope, this was what he was talking about as far as I'm aware. We’ve been tracking it and trying to get some intel for a few weeks now, and if all goes to plan, we’ll be able to send you all to neutralize the base within the week, but Fury wanted to make sure you were all informed.”

There were other items of business at the meeting, like previewing some of the new weapons that the lab has been working on with Tony, but it wasn’t too lengthy of a presentation, and you were soon waving everyone goodbye and gathering your things when you heard someone say your name. “Hey Clint!” you said brightly as you looked up. “Do you need anything?” You and the archer were friendly, and you considered him to be your closest friend out of the Avengers, but you also didn’t see him too often, so you weren’t sure what he wanted from you.

He shook his head. “I wanted to say that you did a good job with the presentation, I remember you saying you were nervous about not having anyone else up there with you a couple days ago.”

You smiled at him. “Thank you, it was definitely worrying in the beginning, but I just had to remember that I’ve been up there before, and that I could do this.”

“I think you’re definitely better at public speaking than I am, if it’s any consolation,” he said, returning your smile and making you feel a little giddy inside. In addition to your friendship with him, you were harboring a little crush on him as well, as much as you tried to hide it. He was a superhero after all, and you knew he wasn’t going to be interested in someone who was essentially one of Nick Fury’s secretaries.

Right as you were about to respond, another voice cut into the conversation from across the room. “Hey Barton! We’re all going out to eat if you want to come, and you can bring your girlfriend too.”

You looked at him quizzically. “Girlfriend?”

Clint sighed and glared at Tony once more before responding. “I think he means you, seeing as his maturity never developed past the seventh grade.” The last half of his sentence was directed at the laughing billionaire standing in the doorway of the room.

“Whatever!” Tony said, then turned to address you more specifically. “We’re going to get Chinese food, you in?”

You smiled, but then scowled as you realized you couldn’t. “I’m sorry, I have another meeting I need to get to,” you said, turning to Clint. “Maybe another time?”

“Another time,” he said. “And maybe we could-”

“Barton!”

The archer heaved a sigh as Tony called his name, and you tried to hold back a giggle. “Alright I’m coming!” He offered you one final smile before leaving, and you waved at him, watching as he walked out with Tony to where the rest of the Avengers were likely waiting for him.

***

Your friends teased you quite a lot about your little crush, and you always tried to deny it, but deep down you just weren’t that good of an actor. The worst though, was when they would try to convince you that he felt the same way, because you had no interest in being lied to and it felt like they wouldn’t let the subject go sometimes. “Come on guys, just tell me the truth,” you would say. “It’s okay, I’ve accepted it.”

They would always shake their heads and tell you how delusional you were acting, but you were sure you were right. Even though Clint did occasionally pop into your office when he wasn’t needed and bring you coffee, and he was the one who occasionally invited you on Avengers outings (like the time they went to a nearby carnival, which you were not able to go but desperately wish you could have been there to watch Natasha and Clint absolutely kill it at the game booths), you still weren’t convinced that his relationship with you was anything more than platonic.

The next time you saw Clint, you were sitting at your desk and typing up some reports when there was a knock at the door and he stepped into the room. “Hey Y/N, do you have a minute?” he asked tentatively.

“I can always make time for you,” you said, smiling at him. “What do you need?”

“Oh I didn’t need anything in particular, I just came out of a meeting and I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“I’ve been pretty good today,” you said, smiling. “How is everyone else? I know Wanda was sick last week, is she okay?”

Your conversation was mostly that, smalltalk. It was hard to know what to say to him sometimes, and it didn’t help that your crush on him had only grown since the last time you spoke. Hearing Tony refer to you as Clint’s girlfriend really flipped that switch in your brain, because you had never really been bothered by your lack of relationship with him before, but now it just hurt to have people try and tell you that you and him would look nice together.

Eventually, you got on the topic of food. “Hey, have you eaten lunch yet?” he asked, and he smiled when you shook your head. “Because I’m starving, so did you want to get some pizza?”

“That sounds-” you started to say, but your phone started ringing before you could finish your sentence, and you cursed the device for its terrible timing. “Sorry, hold that thought for a moment. Hello?”

“Agent L/N, I need you down in my office immediately,” Nick Fury’s voice came through the phone. “We have a level 3 situation right now.”

“Okay, I’ll be down there as soon as I can,” you said before hanging up. You looked at Clint with an apologetic expression. “Actually, can I take a rain check on that pizza? I guess I am going to be busy today after all.”

Clint nodded. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. We can definitely take a rain check, and I’ll have some pizza sent to your office a little later, okay?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that!”

“From what I could hear on that phone call, you may need it. Level 3 situations are never good.”

You laughed. “You’re probably right. And speaking of level 3 situations, I better go before I get another angry phone call.”

He nodded in response, and you quickly scurried down to Fury’s office, trying not to think about what might have happened if you had gotten lunch with him.

***

Two weeks had gone by since then, and you hadn’t seen Clint too often. Things had been quite busy around you, as more HYDRA bases began popping up in the surrounding states that you were in charge of researching and putting together files on. Your friends continued to tease you about Clint, and you made the mistake of telling them about the time that you almost got pizza together, and the comments only increased.

You kept looking for Clint in the halls of the building, even though you knew that what was left of SHIELD was operating in a completely different building of the compound that he and the Avengers occupied. It was silly, but you were hoping that if you saw him again you could actually go out to lunch, and maybe you could actually tell him how you felt.

But before that could happen, it seemed that your friends took matters into their own hands. One day Sara came into your office to tell you about an important meeting that would be held the next day, and said that you needed to look your best for it. She said she didn’t know what it was about, only that everyone needed to be dressed fancier than usual.

You should have realized it was some kind of trick right there, because you almost never had meetings that required some kind of elevated dress code, but you didn’t question it. Only to find out the next morning from another friend of yours that the meeting had been canceled, and you started to consider the possibility that there was never a meeting in the first place.

Other than that the day seemed pretty normal, but you were glad to go home when it was over. You had just gotten up from your desk when there was a knock at the door, and you watched as Clint walked in, wearing a nice dress shirt and holding a small bouquet of flowers. “Clint?” you asked, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been trying to ask you out for a while but the universe always seems to get in the way, so I reached out to your friends and had them set a little something up with me. Y/N I really like you, and according to Natasha it’s so obvious that even an idiot can tell, so would you want to go to dinner with me right now?”

Instantly, any resentment you had from being tricked into wearing nice clothes today was gone, and you nodded as Clint handed you the flowers. “I really like you too,” you said. “But I didn’t think you felt the same way.”

“Oh I definitely do,” he said, and you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your mouth as you put your jacket on. “And I am really hoping nothing ruins this night for us right now.”

You took his arm with a smile and you walked out to the car together, but right as you stepped outside the building, the sky opened up, and rain poured all around you as the two of you raced to his car. Ever the gentleman, Clint opened the side door for you to get in, but you had a little bit of a different idea. After reaching out and closing the door behind him, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. It was like something out of a movie with the rain coming down all around you, and if any of your friends saw they’d definitely remark on your cheesiness, but you didn’t care one bit.

When you finally broke apart, you smiled at him. “I didn’t want the universe to ruin another moment for us either.”

Clint just laughed in response. “I’m definitely not complaining. Why don’t we skip the dinner reservation and watch a movie? We can stop at your place to get clothes for you, but I think it’s a stay at home on the couch kind of night, don’t you?”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

Normally a car ride while you were completely drenched head to toe would be absolutely excruciating, but your spirits were too high after kissing him to care one bit.

- the end -

[blackleatherjacketz]

Chicory

Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes

Notes: This is a fluff/angst Christmas fic for the Sam Wilson Holiday Playlist. I wanted to insert some NOLA culture into the holidays, so I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Friendship, Christmas, Mardis Gras, Chicory, New Orleans, Angst, Depression, Letting Go, Dancing, Singing, Louis Armstrong, Trauma, Music Therapy, Mentions of Steve Rogers and T’Challa, Sarah Wilson

Word Count: 1.6K

Tags: @skittle479 @bullet-prooflove​, @letsby​

The olive green oak trees reflect the glowing moonlight as their mossy leaves gently sway to and fro in the warmth of the Southern wind. They almost seem to float in the heavy air, damp like strands of seaweed pushed by a subtle current in the ocean. It’s nothing like the few hazy memories of Christmas he tries to recall from before the accident, where snow fell down in curtains over Brooklyn, blanketing everything as far as the eye could see in a fluffy layer of white.

“It doesn’t really seem like Christmas without snow,” he says to himself.

“I figured you’d had about enough of that stuff by now.” Sam walks out of the kitchen with a mug in each hand, joining his friend to stare at the lack of holiday lights he forgot to put up around the house this year. He shrugs to himself, handing Bucky the mug that says World’s #1 Mom, and tells himself that he will do it in a few days before he heads back up to Washington.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Bucky takes the handle without a thank you, something Sam has gotten used to over the past few years as their interactions had become more frequent.

Bucky would show gratitude with a twinkle in his eye or a nod of his head, the words seeming too heavy to come out into the open as they built up and expanded in his chest. It was something Sam saw in a lot of the veterans in his group, especially those who didn’t have any family to lean their backs on when things got tough. He knew that he was one of the lucky ones to have Sarah and the boys to come home to every now and again to remind him of what was important, of what he was fighting for. She was always quick to chastise him if he got out of line, grounding him back to earth if she felt he was even beginning to fly too close to the sun.

He wanted to be there for Bucky like Sarah had been for him, to be there instead of the family he had lost, or maybe never even had to begin with. He felt that it was his duty going forward, a way to pay homage to Steve after he left them both stranded that day in their insurmountable grief. Part of him knew that he was doing it for selfish reasons, keeping Bucky around because he was the only person left alive who knew Steve as well as he did, or maybe even a little bit better. He also knew that Bucky stuck around for the exact same reason, both of them holding onto each other for dear life as the memories of their mutual friend slowly began to fade away.

“This hot chocolate tastes funny,” Bucky grumbles as he takes his first sip, the bitter hazelnut flavor taking him by surprise as it crinkles his nose.

“That’s because it’s not hot chocolate, it’s chicory,” Sam laughs, taking a long slow draw of his mug with a smile.

“What the hell is chicory?” He blows on the piping hot liquid, letting it warm his right hand as his metal arm grips the handle.

“It's a plant, a root used as a coffee substitute,” he starts, pausing as he considers refraining from giving him the long-winded history of Louisiana his dad always did when he was little. “They added it to ration out their coffee supplies during the war when all the ports were blocked off.” He takes a sip and glances over at Bucky who actually seems to be paying attention to him for once. “A lot of people kept adding more of it into their coffee grounds until they could barely tell the difference anymore. Then after the war was over, the ports eventually opened back up. Coffee beans came back in, but for some people the chicory plant just kind of… stuck.”

“Huh,” his eyes dart over to his friend as he ventures another sip, this time with more realistic expectations. The flavor is deep and woody with just a hint of spice, more bitter than hot chocolate but still more pleasant than the black coffee he’s been living off of for the past year or so. Or was he merely just surviving? He can see the appeal as it washes over his taste buds, nearly burning a few of them off as he quietly swallows the concoction down with a grin.

“Hey, if you hate it, I’ll take it off your hands, but I got you something.” Sam pats him on the back and turns around, heading over to the Christmas tree with green and purple lights mixed in with the gold that Bucky was used to seeing.

“I uh… I didn’t get you anything.” He takes another sip, hiding his lack of thoughtfulness behind Sarah’s favorite mug.

“You didn’t have to.” Sam bends over and grabs a gift from behind the tree, tossing it over to him without ceremony.

No one had gotten him a Christmas gift in decades, unless he counted the metal arm T’Challa had given him last December when he spent all that time healing in Wakanda. He wasn’t really sure if they celebrated Christmas down there or if it was just a coincidence of the calendar, but he always considered it a gift nonetheless. He realizes now that he never got to celebrate a holiday or birthday with Steve before he left, that most of his happy memories with him were too far in the past now to dig up whenever he wanted. There just wasn’t enough time after he got back.

Bucky sets his mug down on the coffee table and tries to forget about all that, to forget about him and focus on the present like his therapist is always harping on him to do. Sam got him a gift and let him stay in his house for the holidays; he should be focusing on that instead of what he wishes was happening instead. He turns the gift around a few times in his hands, trying to guess the contents of it by its weight and shape before tearing the wrapping paper off the center. It’s a record, and an old one at that: Louis Armstrong’s ‘Louis Wishes You A Cool Yule’.

“I know you said you like 40’s music.” Sam takes the vinyl out of his hands before he gets a chance to really look at it, walking over to the record player. “And Troubleman wasn’t really your thing, so I figured we could meet in the middle with King Louis.”

Bucky is speechless. He stares at Sam in silence as he sets the record on its track, cueing up a song Sam has undoubtedly heard before, but is brand new to him. How had he put so much thought and care into one tiny little thing? How could someone like Sam be so kind and gentle toward someone like him?

“Now, this came out in the fifties, but I got a hunch that you’re gonna like it anyways.” He picks up his mug and lifts it up towards him in a toast before walking across the room to sit down on the couch.

The song begins with trumpets bringing Bucky back to a time before all of this, before he was carted off and drugged up, before he was weaponized against those he cared about the most, Sam included. Soft drums play in the background in a joyful beat as Louis’ iconic voice sings lyrics about Coney Island and Santa Claus, filling the room with a barely identifiable but very tangible warmth. The horn section builds upon itself as it excites the tiny hairs on the back of his arm and neck, lifting a weight off his chest he didn’t even know he was carrying. It’s as if he’s been transported back there again, young and free of all the pain and anguish he’d experienced since he returned to this broken world, seemingly out of nowhere.

He looks over at Sam whose smile nearly cracks the skin open around his eyelids, his relaxed posture signaling to him for the hundredth time that he can trust him, that he is safe, that he is loved. Those three truths were always so difficult for him to accept, every other interaction in his life up until now usually proving otherwise. He supposes it had to take a hundred and one times for him to no longer feel the need to push Sam away with a series of tests to make sure he’s actually cared for now that Steve is gone.

Steve is gone.

Steve is gone and he’s not coming back, that blockade standing firm against the port as it halts his supply til the very end of time. It’s been something he’s told himself every single morning when he wakes up and every single night before he falls asleep… if he falls asleep, that is. But this is the first time that it actually feels real, feels final, and feels okay. He knows that Steve would have wanted him to move on, to enjoy the life he worked so hard to give him after his deprogramming, that not to do so would disrespect his memory. 

Bucky hears Sarah begin to sing along as she walks down the stairwell, the Christmas lights from the tree glowing in her eyes as she smiles at him from across the room. Before he knows it he’s dancing with her as she sings Louis’ lyrics to him, her arms hanging loosely around his shoulders as he holds onto her waist without fear that he may harm her. He lets himself sway with her to the rhythm, stepping around her feet to avoid bumping into any furniture as she gently rests her head on his chest, Sam looking on with a smile.

It isn’t until his vision clears up that he realizes tears are falling down his face.

[storywriter12]

The babysitting disaster

So this is another house fanfic it's huddy and a little of hilson at the end I hope you enjoy it

He wished now he didn't ask her but he was pressured into doing so, so one night he went to her door and asked her on a date she said yes but only if he will look after rachael whilst she worked he of course said yes but wasn't thrilled with the idea and blamed Wilson but if course Wilson thought it was an amazing idea

(cuddy) as I came in from the snow holding the baby carrier I saw house I walked to him, oh I actually thought you wasn't going to come in today and avoid this like the plague he looked me up and down and shook his head "of course I wasn't if this is what I have to do for you to come out with me I suppose I'll do it" I smiled handing the baby carrier to him. Now Rachel you are going to spend today with uncle house be good I said kissing her and walking off

(house) I looked down. At the baby who looked at me uhh OK let's get this over with I got to my office placing the baby onto the table everyone looked at me. It's a little deal I have to do so cuddy will go on a date with me

(forman) and she left you to look after a baby? As I said that the baby cried

(house) uh now look what you've done I said shhh … , shhh I picked up the baby rocking it back and forth everyone stared at me what? Forman shook his head

One hour later

(house) whilst the team was running tests I sat on my chair switching on cartoons for the baby who stared at the colours with amazement she then started to fuss. It's OK sweetheart I picked her up standing up and carrying her around the room making funny noises was the only way to not make her cry

(cuddy) I went to check on house and when I walked up to his office and was about to go in I stopped seeing Rachel laughing and house smiling. It melted my heart. I watched for a little longer how Rachel held his face as he held her up in the air and she smiled. I walked away going back to do paper work

One hour later

House was on clinic duty he took the baby in the rooms with him which was a big mistake because everytime he would ask questions the patient would pay more attention to the baby but he wasn't complaining it made him do less work

(reception) Dr house a note for You

(house) grate I placed the carrier down taking the note i then went to go and refill my vicodin I walked back and looked around…. Where did the baby go? I asked the woman shook her head. I rolled my eyes going back to my office, OK very funny where is she? I asked come on this isn't funny cuddy will fire me

(13)We don't know what you are talking about . I looked at him and he had no baby with him. Oh my god you lost the baby?

(house) no.. No, the baby is fine, look she's here, can't you see her? Well I missed place her and I Need you guys to help me find her

(forman) house we have a patient and why should we help?

(house) is the patient dying? "no we just put her on meds she is getting better" kutner said see and also if you don't. Help me and I get fired. You will be out of a job because we both know that you can't work anywhere else. He nodded, "OK guys let's find this baby" he said all of them stood up. Listen if any of you see cuddy just tell her that the baby is fine they nodded walking off.

Hour later

(13) she's not in the toilets she's not in the ER I had to lie to Cameron I said

(Taub) she's not outside

(forman) we should be telling cuddy if someone else took her a stranger we should at least call security

(13)if we do that cuddy will know come on let's keep looking

(house) I checked the corridors and that's when I bumped into cuddy ahhh!!! "house?" um hi

(cuddy) where's Rachel?

(house) um she is… Is That a new top you really do subduing me at work don't you?

(cuddy) no it's old you know that wait a minute where is rachel?

(house) I….i….. I Don't have her I said to cuddy who looked panicked

(cuddy) what do you mean house? What do you mean you don't have her?

(house) I…. I…. I, I huff cuddy you see (gets cut off from baby fussing) I looked to my side seeing Wilson holding her I wave of relief went over me

(Wilson) house there you are I changed her for you I said handing her to cuddy I smiled

(house) that's what I meant when I said I didn't have her I ment I didn't have her at the moment

(cuddy) I smiled. That's fine I'm glad you looked after her today house why don't we make time you can pick me up? He nodded I walked off

(Wilson) you are welcome

Hours later

(house) I opened the door to Wilson's office walking in where did you find her? I asked he stopped writing looking up at me

(Wilson) one of my patients found her in the lobby she gave her to me

(house) why didn't you give her back? I asked

(Wilson) I don't know, I shrugged "oh my god!" what?

(house) you're jealous "what no!" you don't like the thought of me being with cuddy I smiled wow you took her didn't you? so I could look bad

(Wilson) no house I didn't take her I huff "everyone is right you totally like me" I opened my mouth to say something but nothing came out "uh thank you" what?

(house) You could have said something to cuddy but you didn't so thank you I said walking to the door and I was about to shut it before I heard "you owe me a date to" he said I turn back. Do I? I asked with a smirk on my face I nodded OK you pick out where you wanna go and I'll take you.

(Wilson) you'll get lucky with me even if you don't with …. Cuddy I, said feeling myself blush

(house) lucky me, see you then I said walking out of his office

[couldntbedamned]

Goodbye Grey Sky, Hello Blue - 12

Summary: In an alternate universe where trains and zeppelins are still common forms of travel and the internet and cell phones exist, nineteen year old Peter Parker has few options left after he’s swindled out of his inheritance. Unable to pay for college, let alone keep the house left to him by his deceased aunt, he’s running out of time before he’s out on the streets. Desperate, Peter signs his life over to the Bureau of Civic Spousal Selections to take his chances as the selected husband of a complete stranger. After all, he only has to make it through a year and then he can choose to annul.

Dr. Stephen Strange has little interest in marriage, preferring to focus on his career. When his career is threatened by what a nosy board of directors considers a “lack of personal fulfillment and settling down,” he opts to select a spouse through the BCSS and chooses Peter Parker. The young man’s profile he’d briefly skimmed suggests intelligence and compatibility. It’s not ideal, but if after a year it’s not working out, he can always annul the marriage and send Peter on his way.

It’s a marriage neither truly wants, with sharp learning curves for both. It’s either going to be forever or it’s going to go down in flames.

Warnings/AO3 Tags: 18+ MINORS DNI, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1950s/Modern Fusion, Doctor Stephen Strange, Jewish Peter Parker, Peter Parker is of Legal Age, Marriage of Convenience, Marriage Contracts, Government Sanctioned Marriages, Domestic Discipline, Dubiously Consensual Spanking, Spanking, Aftercare, Mildly Dubious Consent, Dubious Morals, Dubious Ethics, Asshole Stephen Strange, Smartass Peter Parker

Notes: Please remember to read the tags/warnings listed and read/avoid as best for you. YOU are responsible for the content you chose to consume on the internet.

<<<>>>

Chapter 12

<<<>>>

The dinner was a resounding success, and Stephen had to admit that it was all because of Peter.

Peter had put such care into everything, from the music playing through the house speaker system to the appetizers set out neatly on side tables in the living room with little cards explaining what was in them.

Sweet Potato Stacks- sweet potato, cherry tomato, olive oil, lemon juice, garlic

Rainbow Spring Rolls with sweet chili dipping sauce - rice paper, mint, Thai basil, spring onions, cucumber, carrot, mango, red chili, salted peanuts

Date and Walnut Bites - dates, walnuts, cinnamon, coconut whip

Peter wasn't awkward with their guests as Stephen had initially feared he'd be. While he didn't draw attention to himself needlessly, he also didn't shy away from conversation or say anything untoward. He'd had Ben Grimm and his wife charmed by his stunt with the kitchen, and Dr. Knight and Mr. Wilson were no different.

"So, what drew you to Strange over here?" Wilson had asked Peter as they sat in the living room, soft jazz playing at just the right level.

Oh no.

"The contract with the BCSS, I guess," Peter said lightly. Then his eyes went mischevious. "Then it was the fancy cars."

Wilson laughed. "Got an eye for Buicks, do you?"

"And car services, apparently," Peter joked. "It's a nice change from the public transit back in Midtown."

"Aren't Midtown's subways pneumatic?" Alicia asked.

Peter nodded. "They are. For years there's been talk of changing over to electricity like in New Angeles or Chicago, but I doubt it will happen in my lifetime." He turned his attention to Grimm.

"I know Stephen's a surgeon. What's your specialty?"

"Butchery or carpentry, depending on what other doctors you ask," Ben said with a self-deprecating smile. "I'm a surgeon as well, specializing in orthopedics."

"But you help people keep moving, right? I think that's amazing!" Peter insisted. "I remember reading this article in Modern Science about this little boy who lost his hands in a car accident, and when a donor pair of hands was found, his surgical team attached them and now he's on his high school baseball team! The lead surgeon was an orthopedic surgeon. It's cool!"

"I know Dr. Voss," Ben said warmly. "She's very talented."

Peter's eyes lit up. "Wow!" He looked at Dr. Knight. "What about you, Dr. Knight?"

"Call me Misty, please. I'm a pediatrician. Surgery isn't my specialty, but I am licensed for it," she answered. "I remember the case you're talking about, with the boy? It was big news in the medical community."

"I never liked the doctor I saw when I was growing up," Peter said. "But if he was more like you, I think I would have, for sure."

Misty beamed brighter than Stephen had seen outside of the children she treated.

"These sweet potato stacks are amazing!" Wilson said. His small plate held several of them. "And this is all that's in them?" he asked, holding up the little card.

Peter nodded. "Yep! My Aunt May would make them and the walnut date bites for her canasta club on evenings when they wanted to feel fancy. I actually stole the spring roll recipe from her friend Gilda, but what Gilda doesn't know won't hurt her."

"I like the cards you made for them," Misty added. "It's a very elegant and tasteful way to warn for allergies."

"There were a few kids in my old shul youth group that had really severe allergies so we always made the cards for everyone's safety if there was an event where snacks or food would be served," Peter said. "Sometimes we spent more time designing the cards and practicing our penmanship than eating the food, but we really enjoyed it." He smiled fondly and something inside of Stephen ached.

When dinner was served, both Misty and her husband were stunned that Ben and Alicia were staying. "Really?" Misty asked. "I thought you had the diet thing?"

"We follow kashruth," Ben said, holding Alicia's hand. "And young Peter here has been gracious enough to prepare a meal accordingly."

"Well look at you!" Wilson teased Peter. "Trying to impress everyone? Show off a bit?"

Peter's lips curved up into a sly smile as he shook his head. "If I'd wanted to do that I'd have cooked brisket."

Ben and Alicia chuckled, apparently understanding his joke, even if Wilson didn't.

Ben's eyes had fluttered closed in pleasure when he bit into the challah bread Peter had on the table for dinner, along with what Stephen now knew was a vegan buttery spread. (He hadn't noticed a difference, honestly.) Misty and Wilson were delighted with the salad of field greens and radish in an herb vinaigrette of Peter's own concoction. Stephen had eaten the roast chicken Peter served a few different times since marrying him, but it was still as delicious as ever, especially paired with the wine he'd chosen. Alicia Grimm seemed ready to steal Peter away and adopt him when he brought out a tray of lemon bars and flourless chocolate cookies back into the living room after they'd finished the main meal.

"This has been one of the best meals I've had in a long time, Peter," Wilson said.

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Wilson," Peter said, cheeks slightly pink.

"Please, call me Sam," the man insisted. "I've been to a few dinner parties since I married Misty a few years back but this one is definitely my favorite outside of the ones we've hosted." He glanced over at Grimm and Alicia. "And I'm glad to finally know just how funny Ben and the missus are over dinner!"

Ben chuckled. "It was nice to not have to leave early for once! Really, Stephen, I can't thank you enough!"

"It's Peter you should be thanking," Stephen said honestly. Hell, all he'd done was buy the food and own the house.

"It was nothing," Peter said, cheeks still pink.

"It was everything," Alicia insisted kindly.

Guests gone, Peter turned his attention to cleaning up.

He rinsed all of the fine China by hand, along with the good silver. He set them on the rack to dry. The rest of the dishes were quick since he'd done most of them as he'd cooked. There were a few canapes leftover and Peter stored them away in neat little containers

After he took the trash to its bin, he gathered up the tablecloth and placemats and carried them to the laundry room.

The rest he could deal with in the morning.

Assuming Stephen let him live until the morning.

He wasn't sure if anyone else noticed, but Stephen had been a little distant ever since he'd shown Dr. and Mrs. Grimm his kitchen setup. He couldn't imagine why Stephen was upset, unless he'd really been counting on them not staying. Which, if that was the case, rude.

He hadn't done anything wrong and if Stephen was irritated that Peter had done what apparently no one else could be bothered to do, that was his problem!

“I have most of everything cleaned up,” Peter told Stephen, who was sipping scotch in his armchair in the den. His blazer was draped over the back and his tie loose around his neck. “The rest of it will keep until morning, if that's okay.”

Stephen nodded. “Sure.”

“I think tonight went well,” Peter ventured.

“It did,” Stephen acknowledged. “You conducted yourself well. I forgot that you've never done something like this before.”

“Once I stopped panicking and started making lists I was fine,” Peter said. “And I'm glad I was able to entice Dr. Grimm and his wife to stay.”

“Ah. Yes.” Stephen finished his glass. “It was quite the triumph and everyone else in our social circle will feel positively foolish.”

“Are you actually angry they stayed for dinner?”

“No, I'm angry that my husband couldn't be bothered to tell me he follows the same rules they do, or that my kitchen obviously wasn't equipped to allow him to do so without some ingenious engineering on his part.”

“I’ve never kept it a secret,” Peter said evenly. “I just assumed you knew and didn't care.”

Stephen snorted. “Of course you assumed that.”

“Am I wrong?” Peter asked. “Because there are basic things about me that you don't know or haven't cared to remember.”

“Like what?” Stephen asked.

“Like I was raised by my aunt and uncle after my parents died when I was five years old. Also that I'm Jewish, even if I'm not exactly devout about it.”

“And I'm supposed to just know that?” Stephen questioned, unimpressed.

“Considering you have an eidetic memory, yes! That stuff and more should have been in the profile the BCSS gave you when you were considering me.”

“I didn't read it,” Stephen admitted after a long moment. “I barely skimmed it, really.”

“Why not?” Peter asked, stunned. “Why wouldn't you try to at least see if we were even compatible?”

“Because I didn't care,” Stephen said. “I went in, saw you in the rec room playing chess before they could sequester me away in an office and my mind was made up. Nothing else mattered.”

“What?”

“I saw you. I wanted you. I bought you.”

“So you don't actually care about me as a person, just a body to clean your house, impress your colleagues, and warm your bed,” Peter said quietly. “Even after weeks of this, you haven't cared to learn anything about me.”

Stephen said nothing for a long while. Then he sighed. “Go and get ready for bed. I'll be up soon.”

Peter was being ridiculous, Stephen thought, turning the PymCo. console off for the night.

Stephen had learned plenty about Peter in the short time they had been married.

Peter was smart. Very smart, if he'd really been selected to write for the Van Dyne School of Science as that Betty girl had said. He'd damn near beaten Stephen at Scrabble, too! He'd also kept up with Stephen's colleagues with ease.

Peter was a damned good cook. Stephen hadn't even realized the substitutions he'd been making for various foods until Peter explained things to Ben and his wife. Everything he'd cooked had been delicious, except for maybe the times he'd only heated up canned soup.

Peter was determined and resilient, judging by how his risk/benefit analysis had led him to the BCSS and subsequently, Stephen. He found a way to meet his own needs in a difficult situation like in the kitchen. He was able to leverage resources around him, such as befriending a neighbor and exchanging skill sets. Damned clever.

He put up with Stephen, which was damn near enough to qualify anyone for sainthood. Did Jews have saints or was there a Jewish equivalent? He'd have to ask Ben.

Stephen knew he was a difficult person for even the most patient of people, let alone someone as young as Peter.

He really was going to have to read that damned profile.

Peter was in bed, naked as had become his habit. What was the point of pajamas when Stephen was just going to have him undress anyways?

He wasn't sure how to feel. Every time he thought he and Stephen were making real progress, Stephen had to go and be a schmuck.

What on earth had possessed someone as strict and stern and self-disciplined as Stephen to just pick a random spouse and not even bother to check compatibility? Was he only anticipating the year? Had he been pressured into it by the BCSS agents to take Peter off their hands? (Peter knew they'd disliked him tremendously, always lamenting that he was far too self-assured and didn't "know his place".)

Why him? Why Peter?

"You still want me?"

“From the moment I saw you.”

All of the sex (which Peter really enjoyed but technically couldn't say no to) aside, did Stephen really find Peter that attractive?

“I saw you. I wanted you. I bought you.”

More to the point, could Peter make himself live with that for the remainder of their year together?

"Hmm, you're still up," Stephen said from the doorway. "I'm glad. I have every intention of making tonight very good for you."

As much as Peter wanted to be annoyed that Stephen could just waltz up like there wasn't a gap between them that needed to be bridged, the way his cock tingled at Stephen's promise clearly felt otherwise.

"And why is that?" he asked, sitting up.

"Because you were marvelous this evening and you've earned it." Stephen's answer came from the closet.

The flush of pleasure he felt at Stephen's words did not change anything. It wasn't like he craved Stephen's approval. He'd simply been a good host just like he'd been raised to be.

"You have no idea just how loudly those four are going to sing your praises," Stephen said as he strode out in his pajama pants. "And in my circles, your praises become mine."

Of course Stephen would appreciate the stroke to his own ego, Peter thought. He still turned to face Stephen as he joined him in bed. His cock was trying to harden against the cage and while it didn't exactly hurt anymore, it did kindle something in him he didn't want to think to closely on.

"The lofty aloof Dr. Strange has finally settled down and hasn't he chosen just the right spouse," Stephen drawled. "No risk of burnout any longer, no he has a perfect home, perfect husband who's so gracious and smart."

"Which is what you wanted," Peter said. "To get them off of your back."

"And lucky for me I found you," Stephen said. His hand slipped down to Peter's cock and at the brush of two fingers, disabled the lock on the cage. He pulled it away and set it on the nightstand. "You've given me so much," he continued, stroking Peter's nearly instantly-hard cock so perfectly Peter worried he'd spill far too soon. "I intend to show you my gratitude."

"Oh."

Peter's head fell back as Stephen's grip tightened just so. He couldn't stay upset, not when Stephen was making him feel so good. It wasn't fair but damn if his cock didn't care about that.

Before long, Stephen broke out the lubricant and that made the stroking even better. His other hand started teasing him open, long dexterous fingers curling and spreading. When two brushed over his prostate, Peter came with a wracking shudder and still Stephen continued to stroke.

By the time Stephen finally worked his long cock inside of Peter, filling him until he was sure he'd break, Peter was panting harshly. His mind was sluggish as it tried to process all of the pleasure Stephen was raining down on him.

He'd come more than once, as if his body was made to be played by Stephen. Sensitive as he was, he couldn't help but push back into Stephen's thrusts. The heavy presence behind him, that caged him, also made him feel... safe.

Long after he'd started, Stephen finally spilled inside Peter with a low groan, one hand pressing down over the faint bulge his cock made when in the young body. He rolled his hips gently as if trying to ensure his spend stayed as deep him Peter as possible.

Peter was a shaking, blissed-out puddle of a man.

Stephen left only to return with a warm washcloth to clean them both up before settling behind Peter, pulling him close.

"You did so well tonight," Stephen praised again. "I'm very proud of you."

Peter smiled dopily, sleep racing towards him.

Stephen nuzzled his neck, nipping just behind his ear. "Sleep now. We'll discuss your punishment tomorrow."

<<<>>>

So yeah, Stephen is definitely earning his “Asshole Stephen Strange” tag and we’ll get more insight into him and just what the fuck is up with him next chapter. It’s a marathon, not a sprint.

[mimisempai]

Purrfect just the way we are

Summary:

Just a peaceful morning by the Wilson-Barnes told through Alpine's eyes.

Notes:

I love writing with little Alpine's POV 🥰😻

On AO3

Rating T- 630 words

Alpine woke up with a yawn, stretched, and seeing that no one was awake in the house yet, she thought she would wake up her two humans.

She got out of her basket and headed for their room. 

As she walked, she played with the little ball that was lying around in the hallway before continuing on her way.  

The door was open, which meant she was allowed to enter.  Sometimes she had to wait in front of the closed door and her humans would make weird little sounds. But they were happy when they opened the door so she supposed she didn't have to worry.

This morning they were sound asleep. 

Sam was curled up in Bucky's arms, his arms around his waist and Bucky's chin resting on Sam's hair.

But Alpine was hungry and she intended to remind them of that. 

She hopped onto the bed on Bucky's side before climbing onto his pillow and nuzzling his ear.

Bucky chuckled softly and said affectionately, "Hey baby girl, already awake?" 

Well, he didn't seem to be upset that she had woken him up. It was going to be easier to convince him to serve her breakfast.

She purred and rubbed her muzzle against Bucky's hair.

Step two, wake up the second human, because if Sam was sleeping in Bucky's arms, Bucky wouldn't move to wake him up.

Alpine trotted over to the bed, and when she got to Sam's side, she began to purr next to his ear.

Bucky, having seen her little antics, chuckled softly, "You little minx."

Bucky kissed Sam's forehead and laughed softly. "Doll I think that little brat wants us to get up."

Sam sighed, "Alpine?"

Alpine put on the cutest look she knew and gave a soft meow.

Sam sneered, "It's crazy how much she looks like you when she wants something."

"Hey!" protested Bucky.

Alpine too was a little offended that Sam would dare to compare her to Bucky. She was much cuter than her first human.

Sam kissed Bucky's pouting mouth, who was no longer pouting as Sam backed away. He was about to lean into Sam when...

"Meow!"

Alpine was hungry and wanted her breakfast.

Her two humans began to laugh.

Bucky stood up, followed by Sam who took Alpine in his arms.

She purred again as he scratched her head and Sam mouthed, "Just like Bucky."

When they arrived in the kitchen, Bucky was finishing filling her bowl with kibble and placed it on the floor, "Here you go sweetie."

For a while she savored her kibble, not paying much attention to her humans and what they were doing. 

When she looked up from her bowl, she saw that they were face to face over their breakfast and chatting, holding hands.

She loved watching these moments between her humans, because her first human was smiling in a way she had never seen him smile before they moved in with her second human. She loved her second human because he was the one who put that smile on her first human's face.

Alpine noticed that their voices were getting lower, then Sam stood up and came to sit astride Bucky's lap, putting his arms around his neck.

Alpine knew when she could disturb them and when she shouldn't.

It was one of those times when she had to leave without being noticed.

She had finished her kibble anyway.

She headed for the living room and when she turned around, she saw her two humans kissing rather passionately.

She sighed with contentment, she was going to be able to take a nap for an hour or two in her basket.

She climbed into her basket, rolled into a ball and closed her eyes. 

She could sleep peacefully, her two humans were happy.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Sambucky masterlist here

[taughtranquility]

OUT OF CONCERN FOR HIS BEST FRIEND, MIGUEL HAS BASICALLY BEEN KEEPING TABS ON ETHAN THE ENTIRE NIGHT.

despite his internalized jealousies, he’d been trying to butt out of ethan & auryn’s relationship at first, but that quickly became impossible given how differently ethan’s been acting lately. he went from his usual chaotic self to something… sadder. he’s been pulling away from his trainings, he’s been skipping school. it’s done nothing but make miguel worry. miguel’s been a little more angry lately because of it, just in general. his mom & abuela can’t figure out what’s going on with him. everything’s going good with sam, miguel catching her staring at robby & tory dancing at prom earlier notwithstanding. he hasn’t taken his annoyances out on anyone, certainly not sam, but he also hasn’t expressed the reason(s) why he’s angry—all of which start with an a & ends with a n. it helps some that chase, rosalie, ciro, icarus & emma—along with their other friends—are clearly concerned about ethan, so he’s not alone in the alarm bells ringing.

auryn was invited to the miyagi-do dojo by ethan a few days ago, & auryn spent the entire time distracting ethan or pulling him away from his trainings. their senseis—all of them, including sensei wilson—hadn’t been thrilled with that. miguel’s noticed with how… off ethan’s been acting lately. he’s been more subdued, quieter. nothing like the person he knows. he’s convinced that auryn’s constant presence isn’t helping matters. this morning, miguel had pulled ethan aside to ask him if he’s okay, if his relationship with auryn is good. ethan had told him that everything’s great between him & auryn. he told him with a smile, & it reached his eyes. if he was anyone else, it would have convinced them. but miguel’s known him since the first week of school, & he’s his best friend.

ethan is standing across the living room in one of the corners with auryn, hunched in on himself slightly & holding his boyfriend’s hand, his eyes on the hardwood floor. auryn’s clearly passionately talking. it doesn’t sound like he’s yelling: his body language isn’t quite that, but ethan looks a little sad for some reason. with the after party chaos around the house, no one else is paying attention to them, but miguel is. the dark circles underneath his eyes are obvious in the lights of stingray’s home. something’s about to go wrong with those two. the little voice in miguel’s head screams. while he can’t read minds & has no proof to back the claim the voice says up, his shoulders tense, adrenaline spiking alongside his heartbeat kicking up. ethan responds, but miguel can’t hear them over the music, the voices & chatter throughout the whole house too loud, & the distance between them. he doesn’t have super-human hearing.

the blood in his veins boils as auryn reaches a hand up to ethan’s earplugs in his ears, the anger in his eyes increasing by the tenfold. ethan, who looks scared, blurts something out then surges forward to kiss auryn. miguel supposes he should look away, but the voice in his head tells him that he shouldn’t. not in a creepy, voyeuristic way, but out of concern. the blond’s hand freezing around the white wire of his corded earplug before he can yank(?) one of his earplugs out (or is he just adjusting the cord?), then pushing on ethan’s shoulders to make him stop kissing him. ethan still looks very nervous as he pulls away, & auryn drops his hand away from ethan’s earplug.

ethan still doesn’t relax.

absolutely furious & thinking only on his unfiltered rage, miguel takes a step away from the snack table. but he doesn’t move towards sam out by the pool, or towards the couple in question, but to @taughtpain nearby. he storms across the room like a man on a mission, his hand lashing out to curl tightly around robby’s suit-jacket clad arm before he even makes his presence fully known to the other, knuckles bone white.

❝ i need to talk to you. now. ❞ he rushes out. it isn’t a request, but a demand, that much is clear in his tone, in his body language. there’s no fucking shot he’s going to let ethan out of his sight, not after what he just witnessed.

ethan makes eye contact with robby for a half-second, then quickly looks down again, shoulders deflating. it makes miguel’s heart break. unfortunately, auryn is scarily perceptive. it causes him to whip around mid-sentence to where ethan’d been looking. it leads him to finding him & robby, miguel’s hand still wrapped tightly around his arm. miguel’s not going to fight robby, not here, despite making the first contact. the rage on his face—solely directed towards auryn—clearly spikes. ( by the way the curious look on his face turns into a knowing smirk, auryn looks very smug about that. )

[abbatoirablaze]

Get Your Man

Word Count:  1.1k

Warnings:  sexual tension, mutual pining.

"Em," Gemma gasped, "Wow."

I bit my lip, nervously running to the mirror, "What?  Do I look bad?"

Luann shook her head, "hell no baby doll.  He's gonna want to rip your clothes off right when he sees ya."

I smiled, seeing my reflection, "I look that good."

Gemma smiled, "if I were a guy, I'd definitely wanna tap that."

"I don't know," I said with a shrug, "Filip doesn't like me like that anyways.  I shouldn't be trying to impress him."

"You're kidding, right?"

"What?" I asked.

"Chibs has the biggest crush on you," Luann laughed, "and now that we're getting you all dolled up, maybe he'll get some balls and do you."

I blushed again and Gemma smiled, "all you need to do is go out there with some confidence.  Remember baby doll, these men think with their dicks.  So, grab him by the balls and show him where you want to go.  He'll follow you."

"I think I can help her with that," a voice said, coming into the office.  I turned to see my best friend.  He gave me his trademark smirk, "Gem's right.  I mean, god damn darlin, if I had a chance, I'd do ya right here."

This time I felt my blush creep down my neck, and I fanned myself, "Jax, stop."

"Why couldn't you be the one that married Jax," Gemma laughed sadly as she gave me a half-sad, "at least I like you."

"Because if that happened, you'd have a house full of grandchildren," Jax laughed, "me and Em both have crazy sex drives.  Right Em?"

"You live to embarrass me, don't you?"

"I would have been okay with a house full of grandbabies," Gemma said definitively, "Why are you telling me this.

Jax chuckled and nodded, ignoring his mother as he  held out his hand to me, "come on sweetheart.  Let's get you out of here before Gemma straps us both down and forces us to get married."

I rolled my eyes at my best friend, before taking his hand.  He led me into the clubhouse where a full blown rager had been going on.  He didn't pay anyone too much attention.  A lot of 'bro hugs' and 'how ya doin man' but we made a bee line for the bar.

"You okay Em?"

I nodded, suddenly feeling self conscious, "yeah.  Just need a few beers in me."

He chuckled.

"You look amazing.  For real.  Those jeans really hug your ass."

I bit my lip, shaking my head, "he probably won't even notice me.  He doesn't see me like that."

"Em," he chuckled.  He cupped my chin with one of his hands, "trust me when I say that Chibs is head over heels for ya.  Matter of fact I see that he's stopped makin out with Emily Duncan there."

I glanced over my shoulder to see a very upset Crow eater sitting on Chibs' lap, but he seemed to be looking through her.

"He's not looking at us."

Jax nodded, "yes he is, darlin."

I pushed his hand away, and he gave me another one of his trademarked grins, "I swear you are too much Jax."

"Kiss him."

"What?"

"Go up to him right now, and kiss him,"  he laughed, shoving his hands in his pockets, "I dare you."

"Jax."

"I double dare ya."

I bit my lip before standing out of my chair and poking his chest, "no."

"I triple dog dare you, Emma Wilson.  Go kiss Chibs.  Walk straight up, grab him by his kutte and show him who he belongs to.  I know you've been wanting to do it since you were 19.  You're 24 now.  Come on."

I looked between him and Jax.

XXXXX Chibs POV  XXXXX

I looked at her from across the room, in all her glory.  Her blonde curls fell loose down her shoulders and back.

"Chibs?"

That sweet tight ass hugged perfectly in her Levis.  She had a leather vest on that was see through on the sides and back...It cut off right above her belly button.  Makin me think about what lay beneath the denim and leather.

"Hey," the woman groaned from on top of my lap.  And normally, I would have said yes.  Emily Duncan was the creme de la creme of crow eaters.  She smiled sweetly at me, "let's go to your room, Chibsy."

"I think I wanna play some pool," I said, pushing her off my lap.  She followed me over to the pool table where the prospect was racking the balls, "go get me a scotch, will ye?"

The crow eater huffed, but nodded.  I watched as she stood a few people down from Jackie boy and Emma.

"What I wouldn't give to see her ride a pole," Half sack said with a smile, "She's hot, right?"

"I wouldn't talk about Chibs' old lady like that man," Tig said with a laugh, "he'll run you through a grinder."

I looked at the two guys, "what in the bloody hell are you talkin about?  I'm not with that crow eater."

"He's talking about your old lady," Tig laughed, patting me on the shoulder, "you know the one you've been pinin' after since she came back to Charming five years ago."

"I haven't been pining after Em!"

"Aww," the crow eater said, handing me my scotch, "you guys talking about me?"

Half sack began to laugh, "yeah.  Sure, Emily."

She scowled at him and batted her lashes, "shouldn't you be doing something useful, like getting one of your brothers or his company a drink?"

"Hey guys," Jackie boy said, interrupting the conversation, "got room for two more?"

"I don't know," the crow eater said, eyeing Em up.  She smiled innocently and I felt Emily pull my face to hers for a kiss.  I pulled away and straightened my kutte out.

"Of course we do," Tig roared, handing Jax a pool cue.  He smirked at Emma, "lookin good tonight Emma."

"Thanks Tigger," she smiled.  Jax put a hand on the small of her back and I couldn't help but feel jealous as he whispered something in her ear and it made her blush.

XXXXX Em's POV XXXXX

I blushed as Jax said it again, "kiss him.  Bet he won't pull away from you."

I bit my lip and looked at Filip.

"Shut up."

"Triple.  Dog.  Dare ya."

Come on.  This is it.

Now or never.

"Hey Chibs?" I asked.

He turned his attention to me and I grabbed his kutte in one hand and his face with another, before pulling him to me.  Almost instantly I heard the pool cue drop, and his hands went to my body.  He kissed back  without a second thought.

I smiled, pulling away.  Tig, Sack, and Jax were all whistling and catcalling us.

"Shut yer yaps ye limey bastards," he roared, laughing at them.  I bit my lip again, and looked up into his eyes.  He smiled and grabbed my face, "Who said to stop?  I'm just getting started with you."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: We’re starting Sam’s installment but this weekend I’ll probably only be catching up on my headcanons and drabbles because I’ve been a lazy bitch and I’m sorry to those who have been waiting.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: I've got a job, I explore

💀💀💀

The sleepy town of Birch was awake. 

In those last weeks, the arrival of outsiders had roused the attention of many once passive residents of the timeless territory. Those brick buildings unchanged by the tick of the clock inlaid into the old tower above the library that chimed every hour on the hour. They still stood with only chips in the mortar but the air tasted different. The frost was more bitter and the sky more grim. An omen of something no one could predict.

It was the perfect setting for a screenplay. The isolated town with its unsavoury secrets and the visitors who threatened to bring them to the surface. It was inspiring to you, to imagine what was hidden behind the stern wrinkled faces of the town elders and under the jackets of those men who wore the cut of the local club. The bikers ruled the town covertly but everyone knew that Bucky Barnes’ palm was lined with the map of Birch.

As a bystander, an unnoticed observer, just another ant in the hill, you watched from the side and amused yourself with the drama of others. It was like a soap opera or another HBO hype machine. Those things you aspired to when you could be free of this ho-hum town.

The snows added to the natural gloom of the place. The deep heaps smothered the noise and harkened back to those days of colonial settlement. Forgotten, desolate, fearful. 

You ventured down in your heavy boots that stretched to your knees and pushed your chin down into your scarf. As a child, you ran and jumped in those piles, now you were out of breath just trying to walk past them.

You stopped in the bakery that doubled as the only café, a place where the owner, Babs, tried to to intimidate the last caffeinated trends. She was always a few seasons behind but you didn’t mind so much. 

You ordered the salted caramel mocha and waited patiently as the quiet woman fought with the steaming machines. She was older than you but you’d work with her for one summer during high school, only five years ago. She had the eyes of a child still, but there was something worn in her. As if she’d been exposed to far too much in her three or so decades in that place. She was a harbinger of what you didn’t want to become.

You thanked her for your drink and set out once more into the billowing winds. Birch winters were never kind but this one was crueler than most. Your teeth chattered as you blew the steam away from the lid and hugged it with your mittened hands.

You stopped short as you heard the familiar ding of the diner door across the street. You recognised the mechanic who kept to herself and once growled at you in the grocery store. She stormed across the street, followed closely and quickly by a black-haired man you’d only seen once before. He was one of those outsiders who came to deal with the club men.

You sped up as you sensed chaos brewing and pulled out your phone as you balanced your paper cup in your other hand. You flicked your camera on just as you got to the front of the shop and the man grabbed the mechanic. You let out an ‘oop’ as she turned on him and you aimed the lens at the couple as they fell into the snow, the man’s shoes giving little traction to his steps. 

You moved closer, stunned by the scene, and kept your cell phone rolling as you found a better angle around the snowy walks. As she choked him on the ground he elbowed her and she coughed as she rolled away. She snarled as he clamoured to his feet, slipping and sliding as he marched away.

You killed the recording and watched the man cross the street again, nearly wiping out as he did and when you looked back to the mechanic, she was gone behind the clattering door. You chuckled to yourself and tucked away your cell. It was prime footage for TikTok; with a bit of editing, it would be comedy gold.

💀

You stomped up the steps of your grandmother’s house, this time through the front door as you heard her chair rocking in the front room. You usually took the stairs in the back as you paid her to live on the upper floor of the duplex. You checked in with her daily, she didn’t get out much more than the occasional trip to the grocery store when you couldn’t or you dragged her out to join you for a tea at Babs’.

“You’re late,” she grumbled as you set your cup down and unzipped your coat.

“For what?” you scoffed.

“It’s after noon and you don’t even come down to say hello? A ‘good morning, nan’,” she harrumphed.

You chuckled and hung your coat before shoving your boots over on the mat. You grabbed your mocha and leaned on the doorway as you watched her crocheting in her chair, reruns of some court show playing from the boxy television.

“I was working,” you said, “sent in some stuff for review. Hopefully not much work to be done.”

“I don’t know how you make money on that interweb,” she bemoaned, “I don’t trust it.”

“Maybe you’d trust it more if you used the Netflix subscription I got you,” you crossed your arms, “then you wouldn’t have to watch trash daytime TV.”

She shrugged and muttered under her breath. She could be crotchety but you liked her sense of humour. Your aunts and uncles never came around because they just took it as spite. You were the only one who knew how to handle the jaded old lady.

“Maybe you coulda looked out the window,” you snickered, “quite a show going on in town.”

“Hmm, what’s that?” she stilled her needles and reached for her tea stained cup.

“Just a fight. You wouldn’t believe it, that lady mechanic beat the shit--”

“Language,” she huffed.

“Anyway, she had this guy in a chokehold. It was awesome.”

“What guy?” she squinted at you over her glasses.

“I dunno. Some out of towner. Remember I told you about that burly dude hanging around the library?”

“There’s more?” she sucked on her teeth, “those bikers have never been good news and now they’re bringing in more.”

“Yeah, well, what’re you gonna do?” you sniffed as you took out your phone and rewatched the scuffle with the volume down. You shook your head and opened up your TikTok. 

“I don’t understand why you’re always on your dang phone,” your grandmother pestered.

“I’m not always on my phone,” you smiled at her smugly, “there are those time when I’m listening to you prattle on or you know, making you tea, oh, and cooking you dinner. What was it I did last week? Oh that’s right, I got Pippin out of the crawlspace.”

“I’m too old to be chasin’ that cat all around,” she huffed, “where is he anyway?”

“He’s your cat, I don’t know? Last time I saw him, I sent him back out the window for shredding my charger.”

“He knows you need to give it a rest,” she laughed to herself, “got your nose to that screen too much.”

“And what do you do, old lady? Crocheting doilies to put where exactly?”

She gave you that dry smile, the one that said watch it but carried a hint of humour still. You hit post and put your phone away as you waved off her irritation.

“Well, you know what, I sit all day at my computer, doing who knows what and you know what it got me?” you taunted, “a large mocha!” you sipped as you sat on the sofa and grabbed the remote, “and it’s paying my rent and putting bullet points on my resume.”

“Mhmm,” she scowled, “just remember, real life ain’t online. Those videos you’re always laughing at like hyena, that’s not reality. You forget it and it’ll come back and bit you. ‘Specially with those bikers.”

“Oh, nan, you know too well, don’t you? Didn’t you have a fling with one back in your hippie phase?”

“Two, actually,” she raised her brows, “I was young and stupid. Not like you, but still.”

“I love you too,” you chirped and sipped from your cup, flicking the station to Jerry Springer, “that’s more like it.”

💀

Your usual TikToks were sarcastic and dull complaints about your small town life. The response was less than pleasing but it gave you an outlet to vent. You liked to goof around and document the very specific type of weirdos that resided in Birch. But the video of the fight in the snow blew up your phone and made it difficult to ignore the buzzing as you went back up to your room to eke out the last of your captions for the ad agency.

When at last you could call your day hard-earned, you logged off and sent in your hours to the agency. Social media promotion was easy enough but the working gigs for a thousand different companies was tedious. You hoped you could build your portfolio enough to manage a single corporate page as you continued to chip away at your creative outlets.

You picked up your phone as you waited for Netflix to load on your tiny smart tv and flopped onto your bed, not two feet from your desk. You hit the icon in the upper panel of your phone and scrolled through the notifications, pausing to turn on another episode of the cable sitcom from ten years before. You snorted as you read each comment but the number under the video made your eyes round. The thing was bound to go viral.

As usual, you went down to help with supper. Pippin, the orange tabby, returned to cry at his dish and you fed him too. Your nan peered through her glasses at a crossword as she tasted the tangy pasta sauce. 

“More basil,” she snipped.

“Well, I asked if you wanted to help,” you muttered, “I think it’s good.”

“Hmmp, I need milk,” she jutted her chin out, “for my after-dinner tea.”

“You couldn’t say something like three hours ago?” you blinked.

“I could have but I didn’t,” she snickered. You rolled your eyes and she took another forkful of penne and filled in another line on her puzzle, “ah, no hurry, girlie, you know I’m patient.”

“Patient? You?” you chuckled as you took your plate and shoved it in the microwave to keep it warm. The ancient thing had a dial and the door stuck, “I’ll just go get it over with.”

“Don’t forget your mitts,” she called after you as you tramped into the front room, “it’s cold.”

You pulled on your knitted cap and matching mitts. You zipped up your parka and shoved your feet into the deep boots. You grabbed your wallet and buried it in the spacious pocket. You bounced out the front door and down the steps as the sky sent down another coat of powder for the night.

You went up White Forge Street and through the short path behind the diner that led to the main road. You glanced over at The Asp, the beacon of the dull town, and turned towards the grocer. Like anywhere in Birch, the store was outdated and stuffy. It felt like stepping into another time with the paper bags and chunky tills.

You went down the center aisle and stopped at the fridge to search through the frosted glass. Your nan only drank whole milk and the last time you carelessly grabbed skim, she whined that even Pippin wouldn’t drink it. She was particular but that was just her nature. You couldn’t say you were any less fussy in some instances.

You grabbed a jug and the door slapped closed against the worn rubber seal. You headed up the candy aisle and brushed your woolly thumb over your chin as you considered gummy bears or Reeses’ Pieces.

“Hard choice?” The deep voice jolted you.

You snatched the box of chocolate and looked over at the man in leather, his chin tucked down behind the collar as snow dusted his shoulders.

“Sure,” you said as you brushed past him.

The cut of the leather told you he was better not entertained. While you thought the men amusing, you weren’t stupid enough to engage with them. You rarely listened to your grandmother but she was wise in her own way. 

You knew a girl in highschool, she was fucking around with one of the club men in her junior year, she ended up with a baby and no support. You didn’t think he was into you that way but he could hardly have innocent intentions.

“How’s the old lady?” Clayton asked as he rung in your order at the end of the belt, you moved along with the groceries and pulled out your wallet.

“The usual, you know? She’s tryna quit again. Don’t know how long it’ll last.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll keep a carton aside for her,” he kidded as you felt your phone vibing in your back pocket.

“Don’t encourage her,” you swiped your card and punched in your pin, “although I don’t know what’s worse; the smoke or her sucking on those mints all the time.”

“Oh, it’s not the bitchin’?” he laughed.

“That, too,” you scooped up the paper bag and put your wallet away, “have a good one.”

As you came to the end of the first counter, you were nearly cut off by the club member as he swept around from till two. His own purchase of a car magazine and jerky was tucked under his arm.

“Ah, sorry,” he smiled, a sparkling smile, almost charming.

“No worries,” you continued on and he followed close behind.

“Those mitts look real warm. ‘Specially in this weather,” he said as you pushed open the door.

“Uh huh,” you kept on as your boots crunched out into the snow.

“You know where I can get a pair. Leather isn’t exactly thermal, you know?”

“These? My nan made ‘em. I’m sure Clayton got some hung up back there,” you looked across the street as you stepped up onto the ledge of snow between the sidewalk and the road.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked.

You looked at him dumbly and almost laughed in his face. You glanced back across the street then down towards The Asp.

“Sorta,” you answered.

“Make you a deal. Leave ya alone for your name.”

You eyed him. He was older than you like many of the Commandos. At least a decade, likely more than that. You chewed on your hesitation and cradled the bag more firmly against your side. His eyes strayed as he tried to see through the thick layer of your coat.

“Nah, I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers,” you said and hopped off onto the road.

You heard him behind you as he struggled to follow and as you came up to the other side, he came parallel with you and kept stride with you easily.

“I know you’re young but you’re not a kid,” he intoned, “what’s the harm in a name?”

“It’s a small town,” you stopped short of the end of White Forge, “I think I know enough about you to avoid you.”

“Oh ho, is that it? Well, I’m Sam, I’m not a stranger now, am I?”

“Not interested, Sam. Sure there’s women your own age over at the bar,” you nodded behind him.

“You wanna come see? Maybe have a drink?” he gave a crooked grin.

“You don’t give up, do you?” you shook your head, put off by his forwardness.

“Well?”

“Not tonight, Sam,” you turned around and headed down White Forge.

“Then what night?” he asked but you didn’t answer and he didn’t follow.

You turned down onto your street and refused to look back in case. It would be best not to mention the run-in to your nan, she was paranoid enough as it was. Besides, you’d forget about it by the end of next week.

[colossalcriminal]

Hi, could you do house and his 18 years old stalker story. When his stalker turned on 18, he decided to call her and then they go to date and ended up with his house. She could be virgin and this is her first time with House. Btw i didn't ask, just explain my idea :), do you write smut stories?

Remarkable Day - g.h

Pairing: Gregory House x Fem!Reader

Summary: When a birthday present for his stalker turns into something more, House finds himself liking it.

Content Warnings: Allusions to smut, 20+ year age gap. Reader is estranged from her parents and has a little brother.

I don't write smut because I'm terrible lmao but I write everything else :) Also inspired by House and Cameron's date scene from s1.

It was my birthday a few days ago, so count this as my gift to you!

Cane hitting the dirty pavement as he stepped down after, House shook his head at the familiar frame, only this time she stood against what looked like a brand new car, keys mindlessly twirling around her finger.

Grinning at his entrance, Y/N straightened up. "Wanna go for a ride?"

"I'm good, though I'm sure there's someone else who'll pay you to chauffeur."

Smile not faltering as she was used to his particularly sharp humor, she continued. "Come on, doc. I just got it for myself, as a birthday present."

He scoffed, glaring at the car. "How old are you turning? 8? Are you even old enough to drive?"

"Close," She took a stride towards him. "I'm turning 18."

The doctor furrowed his brows. "Well, if you're 18 then I have, what's it called? Mad cow disease."

Excited at the opportunity to show off her medical knowledge so far, she retorted. "You'll need a brain biopsy for Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease."

Peeking into the car, House pursed his lips at the mail inside. "You got into Princeton, congratulations."

"Thank you."

"Now, let's say you got financial aid, that's still roughly 10,000 dollars. How'd you afford a car?"

"I got a job and I saved. I'm a big girl, I can pay for my stuff. Anything else you want to interrogate me about?"

Impressed at her confidence, he dug into his pocket, retrieving a sum of money. "Here, go buy yourself a teddy, as a gift from me to you."

"This is two dollars."

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I not living up to your rich - double your age - sugar daddy dream?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, tucking the dollar bill back into his pocket. "I don't want money, I want a date."

Feigning confusion, he turned to walk towards his bike. "I'm sure you can go find a Princeton boy to take you out."

"No, I want a date with you." She frowned at his disinterest. "Give me one night to show you a whole new world and get all deep."

He mounted his bike. "Happy birthday."

"You know my number if you change your mind."

Going about his usual routine, House had winded down with Wilson in exam room one. "You're not actually thinking about going out with her, are you?"

He shrugged, attention still captured by the the latest episode of Prescription: Passion. "There are no real cons to going out with her."

"She's 18!"

"Exactly!" He replied, word oozing with sarcasm. "It's one dinner, just for her birthday so that I don't have to see her every morning."

To be fair, he didn't mind being greeted by the young girl every morning. In fact, the one day she wasn't there had him feeling somewhat downhearted until she returned the next day with coffees for two in hand, claiming she had an errand to run.

It took him a moment to register the voice on the other end of the phone call, Wilson practically staring into his soul. "Hey, doc."

"One dinner, that's it."

"Lovely. Do I get to know where we're going? I have to dress appropriately." He could hear the sheer delight of her smile.

"Just look nice." What was he saying? She always looked nice! The oncologist shook his head at his friend's lack of real flirting skills, mouthing an overdramatic 'What?'

"Alright, we'll leave from your place, see you at 7:00."

-

She would be here any minute as he sighed in frustration, ditching the idea of a tie completely as Wilson advised him.

"What even attracted you to her anyways?"

"I'm not attracted to her."

"She goes to a university where the literal dress code is to cover your underwear and wear a shirt." He voiced. "Comment on shoes, earrings and the move onto DHA. Dreams, hopes and aspirations, and I'm sure she's got a lot of ideas on what she wants to be when she's grown up."

House ignored the joke, picking up a small box from the nearby table. The velvet container caught the other doctor's attention as he narrowed his eyes at it. "Jesus, how much did you spend?" He marveled at the sight of a gold chain, her initial hanging off it as a pendant.

"It's lame, isn't it?"

Wilson looked at him with a softer, sincere smile. "I think she likes lame."

A faint knock on the front door had House shoving the jewellery into his pocket and smoothing down his hair before answering it.

In the doorway, fist raised ready to knock again, Y/N stood with a dazzling smile. The formal dress was clad in was certainly different to her usual day to day ensembles of jeans and various tops. Perhaps it was something as trivial as seeing her legs for the first time that made his heart race, or the fluttering of her eyelashes that occurred while she greeted him in the most delicate voice. "Hi."

His speech had transpired into a light stutter as he revealed the small box. "This is for you."

"Oh, you didn't have to get me anything!" She opened it, eyes widening at it's contents. "Wow, oh my god. Thank you."

Not knowing how to respond to her evident gratitude, House's response didn't seem too delighted to any passer-by. "You're welcome, now turn around."

Catching on to his intention, she turned, softly gasping once the cold metal made contact with the warm skin of her neck, hair being moved away for easy access.

Comfortable silence clouding the air, Y/N was confused when he limped towards his motorcycle instead of her car. "We have a perfectly safe, doored vehicle right here." She stated.

"We also have a somewhat safe, un-doored vehicle over here."

"Somewhat?"

"Nothing is ever perfectly safe."

Knowing his mind was made up, she watched him bestride the bike with a sense of ease, shoulders drooping at the expectant look he gave her. With a sigh he held his hand out, heart fluttering when she perked up, using it to sit behind him.

She placed her hands gingerly on his sides, a small giggle escaping when he grabbed hold of them, wrapping her arms around his middle. "Maybe you are just an overgrown baby." He grunted at the squeak that erupted after the roar of the bike. "Don't be so afraid."

"I've never been anywhere near one of these before."

"How come?"

"Never had a rich - double my age - sugar daddy." Y/N teased, referring to the cynical joke he'd made earlier that day.

The rest of the ride had gone smoothly once she got the hang of it, occasional laughs from the wind in her hair had the older man smiling like a schoolboy, glad she couldn't see his expression.

She stumbled when getting off, a hand on her waist steadying her. "Can't have you fall and get a concussion, then it'd be a excuse for Cuddy to get me to log more clinic hours." House internally grimaced at the poor excuse, making sure to pull away incase she noticed how his hand lingered for a second too long.

They remained in silence until they were sat down in the restaurant, menus open before them. "Nice earrings." He complimented, remembering Wilson's lecture, doubting on whether he should be taking his friend's advice due to multiple failed marriages.

"Thank you."

"Nice shoes."

"Who are you and what have you done with Gregory House?" Y/N chuckled. "You don't care about my shoes or my earrings. Just converse with me, like I said earlier, I have a night to show you a whole new world."

The doctor averted his eyes to anything, the fancy glass of water, the menu, the slightly stained table cloth. "I don't know how to have a conversation. Without small talk, what is there?"

"We're having a conversation right now."

"I don't understand. I'm not charming, great looking, or even nice, your attraction to me is extemporaneous."

Tilting her head, the corner of her mouth tugged upward. "I always thought you had nice eyes, that your sardonic humor and wit was charming. I don't want you to be nice, or to serenade me at my window, I want you to be you."

He pursed his lips. "The 'be yourself' speech, how cheesy." His initial sarcastic tone had worn off when he spotted a certain group of three at the other side of the restaurant. "Oh, great. My minions are here."

Y/N hid her smile with the menu. She knew all three of his colleagues, getting on quite well with them when she often ran errands throughout the hospital while on an internship. "Don't want them to know you're on a date with me?"

House stood, nodding his head towards the door. "Let's go."

"Are you sure?"

"House!" Foreman's call had cemented their plans as the young girl was on her feet, pulling her date out of the restaurant as best as she could with his limp.

She burst into a fit of giggles at their somewhat great escape. The diagnostician simply smiled, not at their actions but at the sheer delight displayed on her features as her hand still remained on his forearm from when she had tugged him out of the restaurant and to his motorbike. "Hop on."

Laughter dying down, her expression was dumbfounded. "What?"

"Hop on." He repeated, raising an eyebrow as she hesitantly clambered onto the bike, getting on behind her.

Grabbing her hands, he rested them on the hand grip, steering from behind her. "What are you doing?"

"I'm taking you to the best restaurant in town."

-

The moan that escaped her lips was comical as Y/N savored the taste of the burger in her mouth.

"McDonald's is totally better than Carluccio's." She commented, failing to notice the chuckle from the man before her.

"Tell me about you." He piped up, earning a slightly confused glance. "You know a bit about me, but I barely know you. Either this is a scheme to kidnap me, or you actually wanted a date."

The university student rolled her eyes, putting her burger down and popping a nugget from his tray into her mouth, ignoring his distaste towards the gesture. "I'm a boring person, doc. Just trying to live life one day at a time."

"So you're trying to live life one day at a time, yet you intern for Cuddy?"

She shook her head. "Tell me about your parents." Lips spreading into a teasing smile at his look of confusion, she elaborated. "I don't actually know anything much about you. You can always tell who a person is from how they describe their parents."

The man quietly sighed before placing a fry in his mouth. "My dad was a marine pilot, my mother was a housewife. Married for 46 years. She was afraid of confrontation, he was more the 'care when your eyeball's popping out' type."

"And you didn't gel with the 'care when your eyeball's popping out' type?"

"It's a good trait to have as a man, but a lousy one to have as a father." He took a brief sip from her coke. "Tell me about yours."

"Nothing much about them, really. I haven't talked to my parents in a year, but my brother's alright."

House interlocked his hands, intrigued. "Let me guess, favoritism? Betrayal? Oh, disownment!"

"What? No! I just hated living with them and they made me feel guilty about wanting to go college far away."

"Dammit, I thought it was something interesting, like them disowning you because your aspiration was to become a stripper." He pouted.

"I'd make a pretty good stripper."

"And I don't doubt you. You've got the legs for it."

Y/N giggled, closing the now empty burger box and placing it above his. "When I was 14, my brother was born. By then I'd already grown an aversion to children, but I thought my mother was an understanding person. I thought she'd understand that I didn't always want to feed him, or hold him, or that I'd get headaches when he cried loud. But she didn't, and I guess I was a little hurt when my own best friend said 'you're meant to be sneaking out, going out with friends and having a good time.'"

"So you're trying to get the best out of your time now because you didn't get to as a teenager?"

"Maybe. I have nothing against my brother, I love him more than anything in the world and raising him for the first four years were great."

House nodded in understanding, standing as he held his unoccupied arm out. The disheartened expression on her face melted away as she looped her own through his, venturing out of the restaurant and onto the street. Small but fat droplets of water had began cascading slowly. "So much taking the motorcycle, it's raining."

Rolling his eyes, he put his cane on it. "Get on behind me."

"What? But I'll be cold." She feigned a pout.

With pursed lips, he stripped himself of his coat, handing it out to her. "Here."

"Really? Won't you be cold?" She smiled at his nod and gesture to his blazer, allowing the warmth of the big jacket to engulf her. "Thank you, Greg."

They remained there, a foot of distance between them, eyes meeting in a mutual gaze. Perhaps the space between them was casually getting smaller, one of them, or both, leaning into the other. "Are we going to kiss?"

His witty remark elicited a lazy smile from the young girl. "God, you had to ruin the moment."

"Sorry, I'm just not good with kissing cues and- oh!"

Lips clashing against each other had morphed into a gentle kiss, Y/N's hand found it's way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as his fingers traced delicate shapes onto her dress-clad waist. "Did you just trace stripper onto me with your finger?" She queried, only semi-serious.

House did his best to look dumbfounded. "Well, I have no idea what you're talking about, dear."

It was evident the rain had intensified during their 'star stricken' moment, leaving the couple soaked in each other's arms. "My place is close by." He started, small smile gracing his face when she got the memo.

"Lead the way."

"We're taking the bike."

"Aw, shit."

[shurisneakers]

harmless (x)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety, smidge of angst, mentions of violence

Word count: 7.8k (i went overboard. clearly.)

A/N: as well all know, i am a humanities student writing science geeks. if any of this sounds unrealistic or nonsensical, it’s because it is and i am honestly too exhausted to research data privacy and AI so here’s my take on how STEM should work i.e. the power of friendship  <3 major shoutout to @iamlittlesparkler for the idea for this chapter!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part  || Series Masterlist

“As you know, we have a busy week ahead of us.” 

Coffees line the conference room table, pens click against the stacks of paper that settle in front of various agents and the smell of deodorant mixed with post-training sweat lingers at the back of the room like a disgusting witch concoction. 

“The annual parade is coming up and since there are a few security threats, SHIELD has been asked to step in. Therefore, all of you will be working security this week, possibly even at the parade.” Murmurs broke out in the room the minute this was said; mostly from first year field agents who were way too excited to have earpieces and fingerless gloves. 

Bucky, on the other hand, doesn’t think much of it. They’ve dealt with threats before, most were declared empty the minute it got out that SHIELD or the Avengers were involved. It’s the 12th one that year. 

“That’s only if we don’t catch it first,” Steve continued. “Our first priority is precaution. The tech and analytics teams are working on it. However, if you see anything suspicious, bring it up with Director Fury. He’s going to be around to make sure we’re not overlooking anything. Do you have any questions?”

More whispers erupted at the mention of Fury’s name. Wait till they realise he lives up to his name when they accidentally manage to set him off just by existing incorrectly.

Bucky smirks at the thought.

“You can leave then.” Steve straightens up as chairs shuffle against the carpeted floor, over twenty people leaving the room.

“And remember, if you see an eagle today, be sure to stand there and thank it on behalf of Steve for its service. Freedom! Liberty! And whatever else,” Tony calls out from the corner of the room, earning a sigh from the captain. Others only snicker as they close the door behind them.

“Thanks.” Steve stares at him stone faced, bemused at the symbolism that had been bestowed upon him.

“Gotta keep the patriotism high.” The only ones that remain are the official team. Bucky thinks that he should have left with the other agents but apparently, it was rude and not a good show of team spirit.

“How serious is this threat anyway?” Clint has his head face down on the table, hand holding his to-go coffee cup so it doesn’t fall over. 

“We’re not sure.” Steve finally takes a seat on the chair in front of him. “It’s the biggest event we’ve had this year, wouldn’t put it past them.”

“If it’s those Welsh kids again, I’m gonna punch a hole through their house this time,” Clint warns, voice muffled through the furniture. 

“It’s not them, we checked.” Nat had her leg up on the armrest of Clint’s chair. “Tech team’s been working overtime to figure it out.”

“You have anything that could help?” Sam sends a nod towards Tony.

“I got a few things but it’d take a while to put it together.” 

“Didn’t you learn quantum physics in a night?” Wanda’s picking apart a cookie into pieces, chewing slowly.

“Thermodynamic astrophysics,” he corrects her. “Quantum science took lesser.”

Bucky scoffs slightly at the brag, eyes still trained on the table in front of him. Maybe if he made no noise, they would forget he’s here.

“Yeah, so this should be a piece’a cake.”  

“If your cake was somehow made out of a highly specified tracker that somehow doesn’t violate the data privacy of the entire world while analysing millions of terabytes worth of information, then yeah. A piece of it.”

“What he means to say-” Bruce interjects, “-is that we’re trying. It’s just taking longer than usual.”

“Well, the parade’s this Sunday. Think it’ll be done by then?”

“Hey FRIDAY,” Tony crosses his arm over his chest. “How many hours have I slept this week?”

“Three and a half, boss.”

“How much more will I be getting?”

“From previous experience, about six.”

“Yeah, we can get it done.” Tony looks back at Steve. 

“Ask someone on the tech team to help you out.” Everyone was well aware of Tony’s bad coping mechanisms and how futile it was to get him to change his mind about it, but they still tried.

“They’re too busy.” Bruce pressed his lips into a straight line. 

Bucky tunes out at this point. If he could help, he would have reluctantly chimed in by now, but he couldn’t. 

“So what now?” Sam rips Clint’s doughnut into two, keeping one half for himself while leaving the other to the latter who still hadn’t lifted his head up from the table.

“I actually asked Fury if I could call in an external to come help,” Tony pipes up. 

“And he agreed?” Nat raised an eyebrow.

“After he realised I wasn’t going to leave his office until he said yes.” He pulled out his phone, rapidly typing out a message before hitting send. “It didn’t take too long.”

“Do we know this person?” Steve asks a little suspiciously.

“Well-” Bruce sneaks a glance at the broody man on the chair, “-kinda.”

Everyone can tell Bucky isn’t paying attention by the way he’s glaring holes into the plant. He doesn’t mean to, it just so happens that it looks like he wants to kill it. Nobody tends to bother him during meetings, knowing well and fully that he did not care.

“You’re about to.” Tony jumps up, making his way to the door to pull it open.

Bucky perks up. An open door means they can leave, right? He can go watch The Bachelor? He’s not sure what everyone was talking about, but if the meeting was over he could go ask Wanda who was always kind enough to help.

“Our newest recruit,” the billionaire announces, quickly adding the next part, “on a trial basis.” 

Bucky looks at the door.

His jaw drops open.

“No,” he says loudly, posture immediately stiff as a plank. 

“Hello to you too, Barnes.” You roll your eyes before sending a small wave to everyone else. “Hey everyone.”

“What are you doing here?” He looks like he’s seething. 

“Don’t tell me you forgot about our date.” You cross your arms over your chest in defiance. “You told me 3 o’clock, you player.”

“What is she doing here?” He whips to Steve for an answer.

“Hey Y/N,” Sam greets with a smile on his face before Steve can reply.

“Sam Wilson, good to see you again.” You grin.

“Right back at ya, sugar.” 

Wanda looks amused, Clint finally lifts his head off the table at the mention of your name while Nat takes her feet off his armrest, and Steve’s body relaxes when he realises what’s going on. 

“Okay.” Tony claps his hand. Bucky shoots daggers at him. “As you all know, this is Y/N. She’s going to working with us this week.”

“This is ridi- how did you even find out about her?”

“Aside from the fact that she’s all you talk about?” Clint snorts. Bucky shifts his glare to him. It was bullshit and an exaggeration and Clint was going to get a shoe up his ass very soon.

Your grin only grows bigger.

“We saw one of the repulsors she made some time ago,” Bruce answers his question like the sane person that he is. “Tony’s had her in mind for a while.”

“Repulsors? How on ear-” Bucky connects two and two together before turning to Sam. “You. You got her this job.”

“Sam’s my best wingman.” You send him a small heart made from your hands. Whether the pun was intentional or not, no one would know.

“Don’t look at me, I had nothing to do with this idea.” Sam raised his hands to brush off the blame.

“You’re a villain,” he points out loudly.

“I’m a saint.” You raise your hand to your heart in mock offence. “I have done nothing wrong in my life, ever.”

“Listen, Robocop,” Tony interrupts your conversation, bringing the attention back to him, “I cleared it with Fury. He’s the boss here.”

“Fury doesn’t know-”

“What don’t I know?” The atmosphere of the room changes the minute he saunters in. 

With an eyepatch on his face, gaze sharp and a long black coat, Nick Fury puts Bucky’s dark outfits to shame. Not like he was competing. 

Bucky doesn’t continue his sentence. Nick’s imposing presence loomed at the doorway, putting a stop to the ridiculous arguments that were beginning to boil. Instead, he looks at you, only to find your attention trained on the man of the hour.

“Nicholas,” you half cheer from where you had shifted to in the middle of all the commotion. 

Nicholas?

Nicholas?

No one had ever called him Nicholas. 

“Y/L/N,” Nick addresses in return. “Been a while.”

“You haven’t come to the lair in months, Nick.” You pout at him. “I even sent you an invite.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows. Since when are you on such good terms with Fury? Since when was anyone on good terms with Fury?

“It must have gotten lost in the mail,” he fires back, “Or maybe it’s because I just happen to be the busiest man in the damn country. Take your pick.”

You roll your eyes, muttering something under your breath, but the good natured smile on your face shows that you didn’t take any of his passive- or straight up- aggressiveness to heart. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was interrupting your little tea time.” He looks around the rest of the room with an edge in his voice. “Don’t you all have work to do?”

“We do,” Tony interrupts, holding up his hand before pointing to Bruce and you. “Everyone else just sorta sits around and looks pretty.”

“I’m gonna go talk to the organisers, see what spots are most vulnerable.” Steve stands up. “You coming?”

“Yep,” Sam responds, flicking Clint’s shoulder to drag him along. “Come on, man. When was the last time you took a shower?”

“I’ll go see what the kids are up to in training. They’re probably flying off the handle right now.” Natasha brushes off crumbs from her lap. “Barnes, you in?”

Bucky silently shakes his head, eyes focused on you as you introduce yourself to every Avenger who walks out of the room, sharing a small fist bump with Sam.

“I’ll do it,” Wanda volunteers instead, finally leaving behind only the Science Bros, you and Bucky in the room with Fury. 

“I’ll give you a tour of the lab.” Tony beckons and you nod, following him. “New eyepatch, Fury? Prada, I assume?”

“Stark,” Nick says curtly. 

Bucky stares after you, arms still folded across his chest.

“Any problem, Sergeant?” 

Other than the fact that his arch nemesis was now working with his friends, no, not really. But that did seem like a pretty big one.

“No,” Bucky mumbles instead, getting up from his place finally.

Apparently, no one else was worried about the possibly lethal combination of you and Stark, even with Banner there to dilute it. 

Fine.

Guess he just has to observe you the whole week.

Well, half a week. It was Wednesday. 

He observes inconspicuously over the rim of his coffee cup. He has a newspaper spread in front of him at Bruce’s table. 

It’s not suspicious. He’s been there multiple times to sit in silence with the scientist who occasionally tinkers with something while engaging Bucky in tidbits of conversation. He finds it calming, refreshing even

Today he has an agenda. Everyone knows about it too. 

“You know he’s staring at you, right?” Bruce looks up briefly from the giant blueprint laid in front of the group. 

Tony had been dragged away to get a proper meal into him after he stayed up for 36 hours straight with caffeine keeping his system running. 

“He has a tendency to do that.” You’re looking over the plan the three of you had come up with the day before. There were certain changes to be made in terms of efficiency. “Turns out if you annoy him, he stares harder.”

“We’ve heard about the inventions. Inators, he calls them?”

“Yeah,” you point out something on the sheet, drawing a circle around it to come back to later, “only good things I hope?”

“He doesn’t really talk much.” Bruce writes down a small comment against your arrow mark. “But if he hated them, he’d have a lot to say. So I’d take it as a compliment.”

“Would it annoy him if I did?”

“Probably.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment, then. Pass me the ruler?” You draw a line connecting two pieces. 

Bucky’s ability to lip read is excellent but he refuses to do it, for privacy purposes. He knew that SHIELD had pulled some strings and had another teacher substituting for your classes the whole week since your other option was to come only after school hours. Anything else about this plan was murky.

“You gonna sit there all day?” Tony looks over his shoulder, following his line of sight.

“I’ve done it before.” He continues to look over the newspaper at you with your finger extended at something on the blueprint as you explained something to Bruce.

“You look like- how do I say this nicely.” He wasn’t going to. “A fuckin’ stalker.”

“I’m supposed to stop her from doing anything evil.”

“Sure.” Tony snorts. “That’s what this is. Should I get you a fedora and sunglasses while we’re at it?”

Of course Stark wouldn’t care; he brought you into this project. It was pretty much impossible to get him to agree with Bucky.

Bucky just narrows his eyes and continues his observation. 

The menu of the cafeteria keeps changing. They like to keep things interesting.

Every time they do, Bucky spends too long staring at the menu, trying to figure out what exactly is familiar enough to order. Vietnamese week had him eating pho the entire duration it stayed.

“You plannin’ on eating anytime this century, sarge?” He recognises your voice immediately. 

He knows what time your break is and he knows that you generally eat lunch in the cafeteria with the science team. Generally, the three of you pour over solutions and debate points all through the meal, and he spends the time getting acquainted with his new, lowkey Instagram account. 

He blocks the Bucky Barnes hashtag the minute he gets an account again. God save his eyes from people asking him to break their back like a glow-stick. However, one afternoon of accidentally watching three cat videos has led to his entire explore page being taken over by them and he’s been trying for three days to get it to stop. 

“Just trying to-” he tilts his head. “-understand what I’m reading.”

“Not a big fan of Greek food?” You join him in looking at the menu. 

“Never really had the chance to try.” Tony and Bruce don’t seem to be in the room, probably pushing aside their meal to work on it as they’ve often done.

“Ah.” You already had your order in mind but you wait there. 

Two minutes later he’s still staring at the menu. He can feel your presence next to him, unmoving. It unnerves him.

“Why are you still standing here?” He cranes his neck to look at you.

“I’m just seeing how long it takes for you to order.” You shrug. “So far it’s been five minutes and forty six seconds. Forty eight now.”

“Go away.” The concept of someone standing beside him, waiting for him to do something reminded him far too much of him trying to bag his stuff at the grocery counter rapidly while other customers waited to pay. 

“Six minutes and thirty seconds. This is just sad now.”

“Your face is sad.” It was pathetic that he had now resorted to this.

It earned a laugh from you. 

As entertaining as it was to be able to get on his nerves by just standing silently next to him, you finally ask, “Do you want a recommendation?” 

He eyes you wearily. “You gonna give me food poisoning?” 

“Not today, no.” You shake your head slightly. “Maybe tomorrow.”

He stares a little longer. You remain unshaken in your offer.

“Fine.” He sighs, stepping aside. 

You tell him that since it’s his first time, you’d get him something basic. He thought it made sense. 

He argued with you when you ended up paying for the both of you, only shutting up when you told him he’s holding up the line and that he could pay you back later. It doesn’t stop his incessant mumble complaining. 

He ends up with gyros at his table and you sitting opposite him with your meal. He asks where the Science Bros are. You tell him it’s Science Hoes now, as christened by Tony, and that they’re in the lab.

“So?” You look at him eagerly.

“What?”

“How is it?” you urge, nodding at him.

He takes a cautious bite, really taking his time with it to annoy your impatient ass. 

“Well?” You raise your eyebrow at him.

“It’s-” he pauses, looking down at his food. “-good.”

“Aha.” You lean back victoriously. “Knew it.”

He likes it. He also knows that this is probably going to be the only thing he orders for the next week unless you had planned otherwise. 

“You’re not eating?” He gestures to your untouched tray.

“Taking it up to the lab. Got a few things to work on and we’re already behind.” You gather up your stuff and get up.

“Uh-” he pauses from practically inhaling the entire thing. He was already halfway done with it. “-thanks.”

“No problem. You wink at him. “Try figuring out what’s wrong with it.” 

You turn on your heel to leave, taking your order with you. He can see your shoulders bobbing with silent laughter. 

He stares down at his plate, swallowing slowly. 

He pokes at it with a fork, lifting up the leftovers to check if there’s anything underneath. Nothing. 

He checks to see if his limbs are still intact or his face was a different colour. Nope.

His stomach twists in worry about what’s going to happen. He still has a bit left but he pushes the tray aside.

The rest of the day he spends supervising you has you occasionally catching his eye, only to laugh. It only freaks him out more.

It takes eight hours of waiting and self induced tests later to realise there was nothing wrong with it. You were just playing with him.

He’s surprised to find you in the rec room when he strolls in with Sam, given that you haven’t taken a break all day.

You don’t share the same surprise... almost like you expected him.

“How long have you been waiting for me?” he immediately asks.

"I wasn’t here for you.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Heard that Wilson was makin’ an appearance here soon so I stopped by to get a good look at him."

"Take a picture, it'll last longer.” Sam laughs, inserting a dollar into the machine and punching in the code for what he wanted.

"Gladly. Strike a pose, would you?" You grin, raising your phone.

“Maybe when I’m not covered in sweat.” Sam counter offers and you accept with a thumbs up.

“You going to the parade, Sam?” You toy with the can in your hands.

“I’ll be working security, so probably.”

“Sarge?” You take a swig of your drink.

“Huh?” He snaps back into the conversation, putting a stop to the mental list of reasons he was making of why you could be here at the same time as him. He knew your schedule, it wouldn’t be very hard for you to figure out his.

“You coming to the parade on Sunday?” you ask again.

“I guess.”

You wince.

“What?” he asks instantly, curiosity making him a lot sloppier than usual.

“It’s just- you wear so much black.” You gesture to his current getup to prove your point. ”I feel like all the bright colours would vaporise you if you looked at them.”

He doesn’t look amused.

“You know, like Prince Philip.”

“I think I’ll be fine.” He gives you a sarcastic smile.

“You comin’ Buck?” Sam laughs, unwrapping the bar he bought from the machine.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” Bucky says offhandedly, still glaring at you innocently drinking your soda.

Sam chews absentmindedly on his protein bar as he walks out, amused at the situation Bucky pulled himself into.

“What’d you do?” Bucky asks, studying your body language.

“I bought a soda.” You lift the can to prove your point. “And now I’m drinking it.”

“Why are you waiting for me?”

“I thought I’d return the favour,” you point out. “I’m supervising you.”

“Don’t.” He walks to the vending machine, pulling out his wallet for some loose change. There was a Snickers bar he had been craving since morning that he bought every alternate day. Small joys.

“Why? I have the time.” You take a sip, setting it down with a clang.

“You’re only here for this week.” Bucky counted the coins he had. He’d use a dollar but he was trying to get rid of the jingling in his pocket that made him sound like a fucking clown when he walked.

“Actually,” you begin innocuously, “Tony offered me a full-time position.”

Bucky’s movements stop, hunched over the money in his palm.

“What?”

“Yeah.” You nod seriously. “A full nine-to-five as a researcher here.”

“And you’re taking it.” He shakes himself out of the minor shock to assess the damage.

“I don’t know. I got a lot of things to consider.” The chair scrapes against the tiled floor as you stand up. “But maybe you should get used to seeing me a lot more around here.”

He punches in the code for his Snickers. The row whirs forward slowly.

“See you at the lab.” He hears you discard the empty can in the trash before exiting.

He waits patiently for his bar to drop while his mind internally screams about the consequences of having you work here. You wouldn’t be evil anymore. Unless you were here to steal secrets from the Tower. On the pro side, his weekend would be free again. On the con side, his weekend would be free again.

His bar stops right at the edge of the row. He waits for it to fall over. It doesn’t.

He shakes the machine, suppressing the primal urge to beat the shit out of it when the damn bar refuses to fall.

He punches in a few random buttons hoping that at least it would give his money back.

The little monitor instead flashes a new message across the screen.

‘Have a good day, sarge <3’

Motherfucker.

Captain America looks less daunting up close, you realise. But he is still a very large man with very large shoulders. You know at least four people who would like to scale him like a tree, not that you’d ever tell him.

“Hey, Y/N.” He sends you a small smile when you walk into the room for a mid-week update. A clipboard in your hand, report attached and a few stationery items in case some points needed to be noted done, you look professional and ready.

“Afternoon, Captain.” Tony saves a seat for you and Bruce beside him since you’re on the same project. You almost miss the fact that Bucky isn’t in the room.

He walks in a few minutes late; tall, dark and brooding, immediately bringing the excitement in the room down by 40% by just existing. 

Bucky surveys the room before catching your eye. He picks up his chair with ease and drags it over to where you are, sitting right beside you, ignoring the small cry of protest from an agent whose view he now obstructed. Everyone else just silently shifted over.

“Clingy much?” you whisper at him, eyes still trained on Steve who had waited till everyone was seated to continue.

“I’m supposed t’be keeping an eye on you,” he rebuffs in a hush.

“Well, you’re late. What if I went rogue, huh?”

“Therapy ran overtime,” he mumbles.

“Oh.” You blink. “How was it?”

“Same old.”

“You good?”

He refrains from answering when Steve starts addressing the room but yes, he was fine. He sends you a nod to confirm. 

“This is just a usual checking in. We’ve received all your reports, but just to keep everyone on the same page-”

Bucky logs out mentally. He knows what his job is, he’ll probably lead a division of the security team or join the mission to neutralise the threat in case they find it first. Either way, he’ll figure it out without having to listen to an intern nervously stammer their way through their team’s report. 

On the other hand, you’re not listening either. You were until you saw Bucky’s eyes glaze over while glowering at the window, assuming that he had stopped paying attention when his gaze doesn’t shift.

You should be listening. You’re new here and you should know what’s going on because any bits of detail are crucial to the working of your system. 

Instead, you rip out a sticky note and discreetly place it on the back of Bucky’s metal arm. He doesn’t notice.

You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling. More post-its from your pile of stationery make their way onto the vibranium, shades of pink, purple, green and yellow decorating his arm like a bulletin board. 

You’re about to contemplate sticking one on his shoulder blade when he whips around to look at you. You freeze, hand in the air with a sticky note. He looks down at his arm, a scoff escaping him in disbelief. 

“Are you serious?” He twists his arm to check the extent of how far you’ve gone. “What are you, six?”

“How’d it take you so long to notice?” You watch as he tugs them off one by one, counting to see how many you had managed to get on there.

“It’s impossible not to zone out in these shitty meetings,” he mumbles, pulling off the last one, crumpling all of them into a ball to throw at you. You skilfully avoid them. 

“Don’t you feel pressure or heat or anything here?” You poke at his metal arm.

“No.” He clenches and releases the fist. “It can block bullets though.”

You snort. “Bet that’s a popular line in bed.”

He rolls his eyes. “I mean, it helps that I can’t feel anything. Sometimes,” he adds the last part as an afterthought. 

“Like when you’re blocking bullets.”

“Especially then.” He nods. 

“Would you ever want to?” you ask casually. “Like if you got the choice, would you prefer having feeling in that arm?”

“I don’t know.” He’s thought about it, but it doesn’t seem feasible in his line of work. He’d like it, though, to feel sand slipping through his fingers and the comforter under his palm. “Maybe when I’m retired.”

“Aren’t you well past that age?”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes. “And pay attention. You’re next.”

“So you are listening.” True to his word, Steve asks about what’s going on with your team. “Traitor.” 

Tony shoots off about how you only had to test it out on a small batch first to see if you could acquire the targeted data without compromising anything else. You chime in about a few specifics, and Bruce more or less just confirms what you both are saying, only stopping to let them know that you’d be finished in a day or two.

Steve nods, moving on to the next committee.

“Did I get a good grade?” you whisper when you lean back again.

“B minus at best.” 

“Fuck you, dude. I was great,” you protested. “It’s definitely worth a gold sticker.”

Someone shushes you sharply. You apologise quietly, whacking Bucky’s metal arm when you see a dumb smirk on his face. 

He narrows his eyes at you. 

You try sticking another post-it on him.

You’re only here for a week. That’s what he’s been told. Over six times, actually, after which he’s been told to go away the next time he asked.

No one’s brought up the job offer so he asks Tony if it was true and all he gets is a dismissive ‘yeah, whatever’. Besides, you haven’t told him if you accepted or denied it yet so isn’t sure if this entire thing is set in stone, per se.

So then why do you have a giant box of your belongings that you’re lugging around the lab, looking to set down?

And why does Tony allow you a table right in the centre of the lab for everyone to see as soon as they walk in?

There are a gazillion trinkets, picture frames and obnoxiously bright stationery that stands out against the dull minimalism of the lab.

“Every single one of these is a fire hazard,” he reports, standing over your desk.

You give him a side glance before reaching over to the side of your desk, pulling up a fire extinguisher and setting it on the table in front of him. “I came prepared, bitch boy.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. He chooses to look at what exactly you’ve brought with you because it’s a lot.

There are small cards with ‘thank you!’ sprawled on them in uneven lettering, bits and pieces of paper with small cartoons on them, little clay models and other miniature trophies with ‘you’re the best!’ under it.

“Your students gave you these?” He can’t remember the last time he gave his teacher anything other than a headache.

“Sometimes they learn or communicate better when they have something to keep their hands busy.” There’s a certain fondness in your voice that he isn’t used to hearing. “I end up with a lot of doodles and craft.”

“’s nice of them.” He can tell that this means a lot to you. He hasn’t seen it before.

He thinks the little decorations are adorable and maybe he’d keep another fire extinguisher on hand, just in case. 

Until you start pulling out a set of framed photos and his smile drops.

Several collages of Bucky in flower crowns, him with terribly edited backgrounds of beaches and mountains, a photo of him laughing with ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ next to it in an italicised font.

“What the fuck,” he states, grabbing one of them.

You stifle a laugh, pulling out several more to place along your table.

“Where did you fucking get these?” He starts pulling them off the table one by one.

“I don’t think you know how much the internet is obsessed with you.” You set an especially large one of him in a Hello Kitty bowtie right in the centre. He doesn’t miss the star shaped frame you chose for this.

“What is wrong with you?” He swipes that up immediately, looking for a place to discard, possibly burn these pictures. “Why do you even have these?”

“It’s imperative that people know we’re friends.” You bite your lip, bringing out the last thing to annoy him.

“What is that?” A teddy bear with a blue jacket and a grey felt arm stared into his soul.

“A Bucky bear.” Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh. “Limited edition.”

He snatches it along with the fifteen other picture frames, thinly veiled distress and mostly disgust on his face.

“I hate you.”

“But I love you.” You lift the small heart shaped locket you hung on one of the pictures of your class.

You use both your hands to click it open for him, watching his face morph into one of disbelief.

Bucky my beloved, it read on the right with a small picture of him on the left looking intensely disgruntled. He doesn’t bother asking where you found that specific picture of him outside a Burger King at 3am.

He doesn’t even make an effort to take it away this time. He knows that you’ll simply bring up more and more until you drove him crazy.

“You still have to see the Avengers calendar.” You reach for the inside. “I changed all the pictures to you, it looks great-”

He turns around and leaves before you get a chance to flip open the pages.

He wanders around, looking for the best disposal area he can find. He knows there’s a giant fireplace in the common room in the Tower, and for that, he’d have to go up a couple of floors.

He steps into the elevator, chin pressing down on the several picture frames in his hands to prevent them from falling over.

No one sees him carrying a couple of fan edited pictures and merchandise of him. Which was good.

Unfortunately, the doors ding open on the next floor and his best friend steps on with possibly the worst timing ever.

“Buck?” Steve sounds confused. He should be, considering the sight.

Bucky shimmies slightly to get a better grip on his belongings. “Steven.”

Steve glances at what he’s holding.

“Is this,” Steve pauses, trying to frame his words correctly to sound as supportive as possible, “a therapy thing?”

“No.”

Steve waits for a further explanation.

“It’s Y/N’s,” he elucidates. Steve’s eyebrows furrow.

“Why are there so many pictures of you?” He looks at the content in his hands a little closer. “And a bear.”

“She’s evil. And I hate her.”

“Alright.” It doesn’t answer his question but his friend looks irked enough.

The elevator dings to the common room floor.

Bucky turns on his heel to head toward the place to set all the pictures on fire. He saves the picture frames to give back to you though, he’s sure those cost money. But he makes sure every last square inch of the picture with several hearts around his portrait burns to ash.

Bucky knows that by the time Saturday afternoon rolls around, the three of you would have been working for thirty hours straight, scrambling to get the last minute details done.

You’re still at it but he can tell through the adrenaline of the upcoming deadline that you’re exhausted. 

Now he’s grouchy but he’s not an asshole. He’s already done two coffee runs for the team and brought you food when you didn’t show up for lunch. He mumbles something and dismisses it when you call out a ‘thank you’ his way. He considers it a debt repaid for the gyros.

He’s still keeping an eye on you but along with an emergency box of doughnuts for any sugar rushes that may be needed and bottles of water that he occasionally leaves at the corner of the table for you three to subconsciously keep yourself hydrated. 

“Are you sure we checked it?”

“Yes.” Bruce nods.

“Double checked it?”

“Yes.”

“Triple checked it.”

“Yes.” 

You look satisfied enough to move on to the next item. “Pass me the welding torch for a second.”

Bucky has a book in front of him that he hasn’t moved beyond the second page of. He’s more interested in seeing who collapses from burnout first. He has the infirmary on speed dial. 

After another hour or so Tony holds up a silver tablet, roughly the same size as a smartphone, examining it from all sides.

“That’s it,” he states. “The final product.”

You exhale lightly.

“We should name it.” You have your hands on your hips, looking down at it in wonder. Maybe the zero hours of sleep was finally kicking in because you couldn’t believe you were finally done. 

“You got any suggestions?” Tony asks. 

To be frank, no, you didn’t.

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll do that later.” Tony sets it down, not sounding too disappointed. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, tell the team to get down here, please.”

“Yes, boss.”

Bucky jumps off his chair to join you in the lab, leaving the book behind. 

It only takes a few moments for the others to join. Fury and Steve walk in together, already engaged in conversation.

“Greetings.” You clap your hands together. “We did it. We think.”

“We think?” Nick raises an eyebrow.

“We know,” Bruce clarifies quickly, stepping in. “We’re positive it works. We tested it out.”

Tony pulls up the holograph of F.R.I.D.AY’s system, sliding the tablet to the middle of the table.

“Is it secured under FRIDAY’s core?”

“Locked and loaded.” Tony hits the table lightly to signify that it was safe.

“I think we’re ready,” Bruce confirms.

“We better be, or else half the country is suddenly going to lose their internet connection,” you say under your breath.

“What?” Bucky’s eyebrows knit together.

“Nothing,” you beamed, “Okay F.R.I.D.A.Y., run sequence, global parameter.”

“Running sequence,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. parrots. 

There was no going back now. 

From what Bucky can see, Tony looks fairly confident but you have your bottom lip caged between your teeth, chewing on it nervously. 

There are several hundreds of photographs popping up and disappearing within a minute. Everything looks like it’s going according to plan.

The giant holograph of the AI dims. Your face drops when F.R.I.D.A.Y. seems to sputter to a halt. 

No one breathes.

In the midst of the tension, Clint mutters if they should play some background music. It’s followed by a swift ‘ow’ when Natasha flicks him in the shoulder.

You could hear a pin drop.

It suddenly picks back up again, running faster than the last time and the sigh everyone collectively heaves is almost comical.

It runs for a few seconds more before a list of names suddenly pop up accompanied by a series of photographs and geo locations.

“Sequence complete. Six names detected, zero encroachment on public or private databases,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. broadcasted. “Location determined to be Holland. Exact coordinates are computed into the quinjet.”

You let out a small cheer, looping your arm around Bruce, squeezing him in a half hug. He has a smile on his face, dropping his head as he laughs slightly. 

“How dangerous are they?” Tony, however, continues to ask.

“A few prior convictions and a series of similar threats. Danger level determined to be at approximately five out of ten.” 

“That’s not bad,” Steve commented. “Looks like we don’t need the full team there.”

“Romanoff, Barton, Wilson, Rogers can go ahead and take care of that,” Nick finally spoke up. “Everyone else is working security tomorrow, just in case anyone else decides that terrorism is on their fuckin’ to-do list for the day.”

“Buck, assemble a team and go over strategy for tomorrow,” Steve adds on. “Everyone else go suit up, wheels up in thirty minutes.” 

“Fuckin’ Holland,” Sam scoffs, shaking his head. “Of all the places.” 

“What do you have against Holland?” Nat asks as they leave together.

“Just don’t like ‘em.” Their voices grow faint the further they get.

“Hey.” A small greeting from behind you has you turning around.

Wanda stands in front of you and you have to ignore the fact that the most powerful being on Earth is talking to you. 

“Hey,” you say back.

“I just wanted to say congratulations. You did a great job.” Bits and pieces of her accent poked out. She didn’t seem like she was putting in the effort to cover it up as opposed to the press interviews you had heard a few years ago. 

“Thank you.” You smile. “T’was a team effort.”

“Well, we owe you one anyway,” Steve joins the conversation, leaving aside Tony who was still talking to Bruce.

“I wish I was humble enough to turn it down but I’m not.” You laugh. “It’s nice to have an arsenal of superheroes at my disposal.”

Steve looks like he’s going to respond but his attention is drawn towards F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s announcement that the quinjet was ready to go. He shoots you an apologetic look but you sign for him to go on, you’d meet with him later.

You watch as he claps Tony on the back, telling him to go get some sleep and something with more nutritional value than a pizza pocket in him, nodding at Bruce before taking leave. 

“Y/L/N,” Nick stands beside you, looking ahead at the conversations being had as Steve tugs Clint along with him.

“Nicky,” you tease.

“I know at least seven underground prisons I can put you in if anyone hears you calling me that,” he says stoically. 

“We all know you won’t get rid of me.” You shake your head. “Who’s gonna send you a Christmas card then, huh?”

He simply shakes his head, jutting his hand out and offering a handshake. “Not sure anyone here could handle another day of a highly caffeinated, sleep-deprived Stark.”

“Just say ‘thanks’, Nick, geez.” You roll your eyes. 

Bucky watches the entire interaction unfurl; only the body language, not employing the lip-reading ability. 

“You’re welcome.” You let go of his hand, a devilish look on your face. “You know what I want in return.”

Nick gives you a long, hard stare that could probably melt through Steve’s shield before turning around to leave. 

But Bucky doesn’t miss the subtle high-five he gives you while walking out, unbeknownst to anyone else, bringing the biggest grin to your face.

He makes it a point to ask you what the fuck kind of leverage you have over the man for him to play favourites with you. 

You finally collapse at your desk, letting out a loud exhale. You clench your eyes shut, your body finally melting into your chair. You look exhausted.

He’s not sure how to help. You don’t seem like you have the energy to tell him.

Bucky leaves a doughnut and water bottle on the table in front of you before shuffling out of the room quietly. 

He’s certain that he’s spent far too long in Bruce’s lab this week. He liked the man as much as the next guy, but he probably wouldn’t come down there for the foreseeable future. 

You’re at your assigned desk, reading light illuminating the space. Thankfully you’ve cleared up most of your stuff from the table, leaving no more liabilities to fall over in case he walked into the desk. 

“So you’re done for the week.” His voice surprises you. You were scrolling through your phone, slightly hunched over.

“It appears so.” You put your phone down, swivelling the chair to look at him. 

“How’d it go?” He leans against your table, making sure he isn’t using his full weight.

“Well, I slept for fifteen hours straight, so...” you leave him to connect the dots. He’s done the same several times.

“You’re probably gonna need more,” he says, mostly from his own experience, “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Actually-” you reach beside your table and lug your gigantic box of belongings onto the table with a loud thud, “-you won’t.”

He looks at the box that was nearly overflowing with its contents, the majority of the space being taken up by empty picture frames. “I thought you said Tony offered you a job.” 

“He did,” you confirm. “I didn’t accept.”

“Why?” He watches you shift through a few things, adjusting it so that it wouldn’t fall over.

“This whole thing- it’s cool and all, but it’s not what I want to do.” You shrug. “I like teaching. I miss my class.”

He gaze lands on one of the thank you notes sticking out from the corner of the box. “Ah.”

“Back to school from tomorrow.”

“And evil on the weekends?” he prods, dropping a pen into the heap of stationery. 

“Obviously.” You give him a lopsided smile. “Where else am I gonna use all this brilliance?”

You point to your head. He lets out a small exhale in the form of a laugh.

“Speaking of-” You look like you just remembered something.  

You rummage through your backpack and pull out a small container, handing it to him.

“What’s this?” He turns it over, looking for any hidden clues. “Are you proposing again, because I’ve said no-”

“I’m not proposing,” you interrupt, “yet.”

He gives you a deadpan look.

“Open it,” you urge, and he complies.

Two small squares sit side-by-side. They’re slick black, barely bigger than the face of a dice.

“You put one of them here-” You tap on his bicep “-and the other here.” You tap his shoulder, a few inches below his clavicle.

“What does it do?” He thinks it’s like Nat’s little taser things, a nifty little tool that he could use on missions.

“It, uh-” you hesitate “-it allows you to feel sensation in your metal arm. Heat, pressure, texture.”

His breath hitches in his throat. He doesn’t mean for it to happen, it just does.

“You said that sometimes you’re glad you couldn’t because of the bullets and stuff. They’re detachable, so just take them off when you go on missions and wherever it is you Spandex ambassadors go.” You scoff slightly. 

He can’t remember the last time he felt something soft with that arm or used it for something that wasn’t directly related to his job.  

“I’m not messing with what the Wakandans gave you. It’s the most advanced piece of tech out there.” You shrug. “But if you ever want to feel it when someone attaches sticky notes to your arm, this could work. Just thought it’d be nice to have an option.”

He can’t decipher what he’s feeling right now. He looks up at you, only to catch you eyeing him cautiously, assessing his reaction. When you notice he’s looking at you, a nervous smile makes its way onto your face. 

His stomach does a flip. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly. 

“Don’t mention it.” You sound a little relieved, picking up the box that he’s pretty sure weighed a ton what with all his memorabilia in it. “See you next week.”

He doesn’t know how to explain what it means to him. 

Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets. “What are you doing later?”

“Nothing.” You pause. “Why?”

“Are you gonna watch the parade?” 

“Yeah, probably.” You shift your weight to your other leg to compensate for the box.

“Want some company?”

“Aren’t you heading a security division?” You have to consciously hide the bewilderment from your voice. 

“Yeah. The place I’m stationed just so happens to have a good look into the street,” he explains, toying with the bracelet on his wrist. “Can’t really promise that I’ll be paying attention to it or that I’d even be there the whole time but for the most part...” he trails off. 

“Uh-” You force yourself to shove aside your surprise at his determination, “yeah, sure. That’d be cool.”

He nods. “Okay. See you there.” 

“See you,” you murmur as you walk to the elevator. 

He opens the tiny container to look at the small chips. They’re still there, silently like they don’t change his world just by existing. 

Gosh.

Next part

[harrysweasleys]

he loves me, he loves me not // s.w

blurb prompt: 19 — “you got me flowers? how cliché, i love it.”

warnings: alludes to sex?

word count: 670

a/n: a little valentines blurb for you guys!! i miss sam so much and writing this prompted me to go back and watch tfatws lol but anyways i hope you guys like this!! (gif credit to @lady-arryn)

Valentine’s Day. What an odd celebration. Love, flowers, chocolate, a little naked angel with a bow and arrow.

You remembered the funny little things you used to do in school for Valentine’s; like making cards for your parents, or, when you got older, the candy grams people would leave in each other’s lockers. It had been a scandalous little holiday where people would confess feelings and tease each other.

But now, you didn’t care for it much. Sure, you were happily in love and willing to celebrate that any chance you could get, but neither you nor Sam were willing to make a deal out February 14th.

No big romantic dinners, no candlelit walks on the beach or planes flying overhead with banners. Nothing of the like.

Just the two of you, a box of chocolates, takeout, and usually a night filled with binge watching Netflix.

That’s why you had been rather surprised when the doorbell rang and you rushed to open it, revealing Sam standing there with a large bouquet in hand and a boyish grin on his face. He was slightly dressed up, wearing a formal buttoned shirt, and it made you let out a laugh. You had seen him leave the house dressed like this this morning but he told you it was because he had an “avengers meeting.” What a sly little minx he was.

“Happy Valentine’s!” he wiggled his eyebrows, stepping into the house once you moved out of the way.

You thought you’d tease him a bit, and decided to ask, “Why’d you ring the doorbell? You do know that you live here, right?”

He rolled his eyes, placing the lovely vase of flowers — yellows and reds and blues, they truly were stunning — down on the table before looking back over at you, “To surprise you, duh. If I had walked into the kitchen while you were doing dishes and I scared you, it wouldn’t have ended well.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his torso and resting your forehead against his chin, “I know, I was only kidding. I can’t believe you got me flowers. It’s so cliché, but I love it.”

You couldn’t recall a time that anyone had gotten you flowers, ever, until Sam came into your life. He was so thoughtful and knew how to put a smile on your face with just the simplest gesture. A keeper, that’s for sure.

“And I love you,” he gave your nose a poke before he leaned down and pressed a light kiss to your lips.

“Do you though?” you furrowed your eyebrows, “You lied to me. Saying you had an avengers meeting and all — I mean who does that? Lie to their girlfriend?” You stifled a laugh, pretending to be serious as Sam shook his head, a small chuckle escaping his lips.

“Who does that, you ask? Me. A man who is stupidly smitten with his girl and wants to surprise her. Even if it means telling her a little, harmless white lie,” there was a smirk on his face as he leaned forwards and now pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, causing a giggle to escape your lips as he pulled you into a hug.

Hugging Sam Wilson was an otherworldly experience — he was so warm, so strong, so gentle, he was without a doubt the best hugger in the entire universe. And god, were you ever lucky to have gotten the chance to be the one to fall into his arms.

“So, what do you say?” you leaned back and met his eyes; the eyes that you had so strongly fallen for and continue to do so by the day, “Should we throw on a movie and pretend to pay attention?”

He raised his eyebrows at the suggestion, wrapping his arms under your thighs and lifting you off of the ground, “Thought you’d never ask.”

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