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mygayshortstories · 9 months

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Back before the days of the internet, when I was in my mid 20s, this was my first experience at “cottaging” in a public toilet, when I happened across Steve, a gorgeous 18 year-old, just ravenous for sex. But this turned into more than just a 'quick one'.....

Steve the Pipe-Fitter

I had a day off from work and had gone out to Coventry to photograph the Cathedral, only to be met with a ‘no photography’ sign at the door, so I’d spent the rest of the morning taking candid photos of nice young men out in the sun instead. A bit frustrated, I got back to town about 2 o’clock.

Just under the pedestrian ramp leading out of the railway station were the public toilets. I had heard about ‘cottaging’ and knew that this lavatory, being busy and anonymous, was such a place, so whether or not my subconscious was drawing me there today I don’t know but when I actually went down there, it was to pay a genuine call, so I duly paid and went into a cubicle.

The partitions between the cubicles didn’t quite reach the ground, so there was a gap underneath of about 6 inches. After a while, my curiosity got the better of me. Although I had never done it before, I knelt down on the floor and looked underneath. To my naïve surprise, a few cubicles away, a face was looking back in my direction. My reaction was instantaneous; I sat up quickly. However, my reaction had been so swift that I hadn’t had time to see who it was or what he looked like. For some reason though, I couldn’t pluck up enough courage to look again. I just sat there.

A short while later, I saw a young pair of shoes, at the end of jean-clad legs, enter the cubicle next door. I say ‘young’ because the shoes were new and smart, with a brass toe-strip, fashionable at the time. Clearly it was someone fairly young; probably no older than me, at any rate. He seemed to sit down but then do nothing else. I was curious and couldn’t resist the temptation, so I wrote on a piece of toilet paper, “How old?” and slipped it under the partition. The note was quickly taken up and was shortly followed by the sound of a match being struck. At first, I thought he was burning the note in disgust but then I realized that he was using the match to write with.

The note came back; “18” it read. I drew a rather deep breath. Now what?

I returned the note; “I’m 26 – can I wank you off?” I remember thinking at the time that punctuation was probably superfluous under the circumstances and that a fairly basic vocabulary was more apt.

Another match was struck on the other side and the note came back, “Lend me your pen”. I realised that he must have seen my stainless-steel biro when I had slipped the message under the partition and I wasn’t yet ready to risk losing one of my 21st Birthday presents. As I had nothing else to write with, I returned the note saying, “No – you’ll nick it” and indicated that he should continue using a match.

There was now a bit of a delay and I figured I must have blown my chances. At best, he didn’t have any more matches. “And all for the sake of losing a stainless-steel biro!” I thought to myself as I sat there.

However, to my surprise, eventually another note came back giving his approval to my original request, provided that I agreed to “suck him off”. Needless to say, I immediately indicated agreement and told him, “Unlock when ready”. I flushed the toilet and opened the door.

As I emerged from the cubicle, I then thought, “What do I do if he doesn’t unlock the door and just leaves me standing there like an idiot trying to get in?” It was pretty busy outside, with people coming and going, people washing their hands or waiting for a cubicle and some even hanging around at the urinals. They may or may not have known what was going on but I knew I had to risk it and be quick about it. As I turned, I saw his lock click to ‘vacant’ and I pretended to put in a coin and entered the cubicle.

On reflection, my hasty action deserved to lead me into serious trouble but my limited experience knew no better. I don’t know who I really expected to find inside but for a start he hadn’t lied about his age. He was a fraction taller than me, lightly built with short dark hair and wearing blue denim jeans and a black leather bomber-jacket over a plain white ‘T’ shirt. But what struck me so overwhelmingly was his incredibly beautiful face. He had blue-grey eyes and soft boyish features, so clean-shaven that he looked almost as if he had never shaved and never needed to. I could hardly believe my eyes how gorgeous he was.

He also must have been reasonably pleased with me because, instead of just offering me his cock to suck, we both feverishly began undressing each other. We didn’t get far though, before we were both embracing, hugging each other tightly. This first embrace said so much without words and it seemed to last for ages; he pressed his whole body to me, burying his face against my neck, hugging me and kissing my neck. He smelt nice too; he was clearly wearing after-shave or cologne of some kind. Whatever it was, it was doing its job perfectly and I was almost overwhelmed. At best, on entering the cubicle, I had expected - I had hoped – for an ‘ordinary’ young man (like me) who wanted quick, impersonal sex but nothing had prepared me for this situation. He wanted – he deserved – far more than just a quick wank, that much was certain. Looking into those glistening blue-grey eyes, set beneath luxuriant dark eyebrows, I just cradled his face in my hands and gently kissed him on the lips.

At this point, I must have realised the danger we were both in; two men in a public toilet, half undressed and one of us under 21. I felt I had to get him out of there to somewhere safer – and a little more romantic. I whispered into his ear,

“You’re so gorgeous; what on earth are you doing here?”

He merely hugged me all the more tightly and then he kissed me for the first time; not a peck or anything half-hearted but a full-blown, sloppy kiss. Oh heavens! His lips tasted simply delicious! Memories came flooding back of an 18 year-old boy-friend I had a few years back, as I began to melt against him. Again, I whispered to him,

“I can’t bear the thought of you being caught here. Can I take you back to my place? It’s not too far and it’ll be safer there.”

Much to my surprise, he readily agreed, just as we noticed someone spying on us from under the partition with the next cubicle. It was that face again – the one I had seen looking back at me under the partitions - only this time, he was right next door and had already noticed two pairs of feet where there should be only one.

My newly discovered treasure left the cubicle first, flushing the toilet for effect, and I followed after a moment or two. When I emerged at the top of the steps, I thought that I had lost him and that he had run off, but then I caught a glimpse of him disappearing into a telephone kiosk. I still wasn’t sure whether he was trying to avoid me but I briskly walked up to the kiosk and when he saw me, he came out. As we walked away together, he seemed more on edge than I had expected and he was nervously looking around at the people about us.

As we walked on, I managed to ascertain that his name was Steve and that he was, of all things, a pipe-fitter. To this day, I don't know if he was having me on and it was some kind of jok on his part but without warning, he suddenly hustled me in front of a queue and onto a bus. Rather taken by surprise, I fumbled for the fare he had paid and followed him upstairs to where he was sitting, looking intently out of the window. He then told me that we had been followed from the toilet and he pointed to a middle-aged, rather scruffy looking man in the crowd who I remember seeing earlier, loitering in the public toilet. It was ‘The Face’ from under the partitions again!

We stayed on the bus as it went around the City Centre; meanwhile, he sat there, pressing his leg firmly against mine. Even through my jeans, I could feel the warmth of his leg and this tenuous connection of our bodies passed an electric sexuality between us that was getting me highly aroused! The blood was pumping through my cock, tightly crushed inside my briefs, and there was an uncomfortable dampness developing in my groin as pre-cum oozed into my underwear as we sat there, our jean-clad thighs pressed warmly together.

By the time we reached the Town Hall, he seemed to be less nervous. We had lost our follower, so we changed buses and headed to my place. On the way, I tried to make ‘small talk’ and he responded chattily. He had a gorgeous Liverpool accent but said he lived locally. I learned that he had left his parents in Liverpool to find work and that he shared a flat not far from where I now lived, so he didn’t feel that he was heading into totally strange parts. The short walk from the bus seemed to take ages; my heart was beating fast and it was thumping into my throat. I was nervous that we might meet someone I knew; what would I say? But as it happened, we didn’t pass anyone.

He seemed impressed when I showed him into my flat and immediately asked how much it cost. Typical of a Liverpool ‘Lad’, I thought; winningly engaging but always straight to the point. I took his leather bomber-jacket, gave him a Coke and sat down on the couch, patting the seat next to me, indicating for him to sit beside me, which he did. As I put my arm around him, he responded straight away by doing the same and by snuggling up to me affectionately. I stroked his face and again told him how beautiful he was.

“Thank you,” he said with a coy grin. He seemed genuinely flattered.

As I moved to kiss him, he turned toward me and our lips met for the second time in a kiss of such tenderness, quite unlike anything you could imagine from an 18 year-old. His lips were full and his mouth tasted slightly of mint, as our passions roused and our tongues entwined. I began to realise that he may have been 18 but he was no novice. He certainly knew how to kiss, that’s for sure!

Eagerly, he following me into the bedroom, where I drew the curtains and closed the door. In the semi-darkness, we embraced again but this time, unlike in the toilet cubicle, we were safe and secure from prying eyes. Our whole bodies now pressing together, we kissed and hugged. He began to unbutton my shirt as I removed his t-shirt, revealing soft tanned arms and a strong chest delicately peppered with tiny hairs. Again we hugged, but this time our skins touched for the first time and passed bodily warmth between us. Feverishly, I unzipped his flies and unbuckled his belt but by now, we were both so desperate to get into bed that we both just dropped our jeans and almost leapt into bed, still wearing our underpants.

Under the covers, we fell against each other, skin against skin, and I felt the warm hardness of his organ against mine through our underwear. Soon, however, the underwear was gone and we were fully naked, entwined, hugging and kissing in a heat of frantic passion. I could feel his organ, large and full, between our stomachs as I lay on top of him and he began thrusting upwards to me.

Looking back from today’s world of the internet and ‘porn on tap’, it’s difficult to explain but all this excitement simply proved too much for me and his eagerness tipped me over the edge; all my pent-up sexual frustrations rose within me and I came uncontrollably against his stomach and erect cock, hugging and pressing myself to him. As I clung to him, my orgasm enveloped my whole body, as my semen gushed uncontrollably in pulses between us.

I was mortified. While I did not count myself as promiscuous, I had ‘been around the block a few times’, so this sort of thing was not supposed to happen to me and I was embarrassed. I thought I had blown my chances and it was all over. Light-heartedly, I apologized and quickly mopped up the mess, as I didn’t want to disappoint him. But there was no fear of that; he rolled me onto my back and knelt astride me, holding his throbbing penis in my face, foreskin already drawn back in anticipation. Evidently, he hadn’t forgotten our bargain back in the public toilet!

I too had no intention of breaking our ‘contract’, so I eagerly took his throbbing tool in my mouth and began sucking and playing with it. He loved it. We rolled about in a number of positions, with me sucking him and tickling and licking his testicles; and him thoroughly reveling in it. But I had to keep resting my jaw; it was beginning to ache and juices were everywhere; he was a big lad for one so slightly built.

“I’m a good stayer,” he joked, and he certainly was. I wasn’t about to give up either; he was 18, beautiful - and all mine.

But eventually, I felt the tell-tale signs; now on his back again with me crouched between his baby-soft thighs, his organ in my mouth and gripped in my hand, his breathing suddenly changed and he began gasping and shuddering. Don’t you simply love that moment when a young man loses all self-control just before he cums? With a deep, hard gasp, he exploded into my mouth 3 or 4 times, great gushes of salty cum coursing through his organ and filling my mouth.

Some guys (girls too, I suppose) don’t like the taste of a guy’s cum, so they either spit it out or let it dribble back out of their mouth. For me though, the whole experience is a very personal one and while I don’t much like the taste, I feel that swallowing it increases that connection; it creates an even deeper bond between the ‘giver’ and the ‘receiver’. Besides which, having a man’s cum permanently inside me is very satisfying; at least it is for me, at any rate! Consequently, as his throbbing cock subsided, I swallowed all of his slimy, slithery juices. His body then relaxing and exhausted, he breathed heavily.

“Jeez, I needed that!” he said, as we collapsed into each other’s arms, once again hugging and kissing.

At this point, I thought he would want to leave, his passion satisfied; but he hadn’t had enough, it seemed. We continued laying together, caressing and stroking, hugging and kissing, rolling about in loving passion the likes of which I had not felt in a long while. Occasionally, we would rest and just lay still in each other’s arms, softly talking, only to return to the hugging and kissing with renewed vitality. I complimented him on how passionate a lover he was. He liked that.

I said, “You’re not shy either, are you”, and he looked at me, slightly surprised, and replied, “No”, as if it had never occurred to him.

As we still lay entwined, without any warning he then said,

“Well, can I stick it up you then?”

Although the abruptness of his request came as something of a surprise, it was by no means out of character. He was direct and to the point. But I saw this as an opportunity, so in an attempt to persuade him to meet me again, I said I thought maybe we should keep that for another time. He didn’t seem to mind, except that now we began exploring each other’s bottoms.

As I played my finger around his anus, I realised that this was one of his weak spots, as it was mine in fact. He began groaning and he clasped my hand, pressing my finger into him. With the aid of a little lube, I began to finger-fuck him, massaging his prostate while he writhed about, groaning in ecstasy. For a few moments, I had his entire body sensations under my control (again) and I sensed he was going to let go again. I felt tremendous. But he had other ideas still in his mind because he gently pushed me away, grabbing the lube and following my example. Now he was the one who had me under his control and my mind soon changed regarding his request to screw me! He rolled me over and took charge.

I asked him to take it gently – he was only young and I wasn’t sure how desperate he might be. But I need have had no fears. As I lay on my front over a pillow, face to one side and one knee raised, he lubricated his now throbbing organ and my aching anus. He entered me just a little at a time, pausing when I asked, allowing me to relax. He wasn’t particularly well-endowed, as if that mattered, but he was fairly narrow too, so I was able to accommodate him with very little discomfort. However, his cock was quite long and it was terrific to feel his slender organ sliding smoothly in and out, upwards and inwards, rhythmically inside me, as he lay against my back with his arms firmly clasped around me. It was sheer bliss.

Eventually, he began thrusting in earnest, almost withdrawing in between his full, hard thrusts into me. In fact, he slipped out twice and got a bit flustered at nearly losing it – he was obviously getting near to his climax. I calmed him as he entered again easily, softly encouraging him to continue, and he began thrusting again, now desperately. As I felt his rhythm change, he thrust once or twice really hard into me as far as he could go and, reaching his climax, he grasped both my hands on the pillow and buried his face against my neck. I could feel him holding his breath, as he held absolutely still for a second or two; and then I felt his organ pulsing high inside me – 2, 3, 4, 5 times he came into me, my insides warmed by the love fluid flowing into me. Then he let out a gasp and I felt him relax his frantic grip of me, as he just lay there on top of me, his tool still slowly throbbing the last of his orgasm inside me.

Exhausted, his tool slipped out of me as he still lay against my back, sighing and breathing heavily. I sighed too – frankly, I had never had it so good! As we rolled over into each other’s arms once again, I told him so and he was justly flattered. We must have rolled about kissing and embracing for quite some time until he finally asked if I had cum when he screwed me. I told him I hadn’t, although I had been pretty close, and to my utter amazement, he said,

“Right, well it’s your turn then – I’ll do you a blow job” and with the words, “Let me at it!” he climbed over in-between my legs and began passionately sucking my still hard penis and tickling my testicles with his fingers.

Frankly, I was speechless; this 18 year-old fantasy had just had two quite tremendous orgasms in the space and he was still as excited and, what’s more, he was interested in me. I wasn’t expecting any more than I had already experienced but I was ready for anything he was prepared to offer and I was enjoying every precious moment.

He didn’t move up and down on me much; instead, he teased me with his mouth and tongue, second by second, so slowly that as I felt myself drawing towards a climax, it was so gently and slowly done that the tension was almost agonizing in its pleasure. I began shaking what seemed like ages before I came but then I could feel the fluid rising in me, flowing on its inexorable path to the outside world. I clutched at his head, gasping for breath, and came like a small fountain into his mouth, pumping away while he eagerly swallowed every drop I gave him until I was truly spent.

I was still gasping for breath when he collapsed against me again, where he lay for another ten minutes or so until it was time for him to return to his own flat. We had been in bed together for nearly three hours and finally he was leaving. We dressed and tidied up and I asked if I could see him again. To this day, his reply still baffles me.

“What do you think?” he said.

I’ve often wondered at the double meaning in his response but at the time, I took it at face value, gave him my phone number and attempted to express sincere feeling to him as I showed him out to the road and directed him to his bus home.

A beautiful cheery face smiled back at me as I waved to him disappearing down the road. As I returned to my flat and closed the door, I was alone again and felt suddenly empty and yet at the same time rejuvenated. For me, nothing short of a fantasy had come true and it felt all the better for knowing that he had had a bloody good time too! Our afternoon had been filled with such intense passion that I thought, “Surely this was more than just another ‘one night stand’ encounter?” But he never contacted me and I never saw him again. All I have is the memory; the image etched in my mind of that beautiful young man’s face, the warmth of his soft skin against mine and that incredible Thursday afternoon.

If you liked that story, please let me know - even post a comment under “ask me a question”. Or perhaps you’d just like to read another story?

Here’s an index of my other sordid tales, many of them taken from true-life sexual adventures of my own: Erotic Gay Stories Index

#gay short stories #hot gay stories #smut #cute guys #twinks #gay stories #cottaging #public toilets

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late-to-the-party-81 · 3 years

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The Show

A/N: Steve's been in a bad mood, and you know fro conversations with Bucky that in times like these he needs a certain type of loving, so you ask him to help you. This is part five of An Artist and an Engineer.

Part Four | Part Six

Find my Masterlist here

Un-beta'd. Divider's by @firefly-graphics. Mood board and banners by me.

Relationship: Steve x Reader (Established), Steve x Bucky (pre-poly), little bit Bucky x Reader (pre-poly)

Word Count: 3k ish

CW: Minor D/S undertones, Anal Sex, Oral sex (M receiving), Spit-roasting, aftercare, pre-poly, threesome, voyerism, exhibitionism, female masturbation, squirting.

“God damnit!”

Steve’s shout resonated through his apartment from his studio, followed by the sound of a canvas being snapped and shredded. You sighed from where you were laying on the sofa, reading through a book.

Steve had been in an almost constant bad mood for the last week. He was suffering from a block with his art and it was aggravating him, leaving him short tempered. You’d tried helping him in a variety of ways, staying away to give him space, and trying to distract him when you were around. Nothing seemed to work, not even going through a heavy scene together. You still carried the weight of the bruises on your ass, a delicious reminder of how he had made you fly. Yes, he had been fine in the moment, as attentive and caring as always, but his good mood had vanished almost as soon as aftercare was over, leaving him tossing and turning in bed for a few hours before he got up and secluded himself back in with his easel and paints.

“It’s not you Cali, I swear” he’d reassured. “My brain just gets so fogged up sometimes and it just makes me so annoyed with myself.”

This latest outburst was the second one of today, and you knew it couldn’t continue any longer; he needed to get out of his head. You picked up your phone and fired off a text. The response was almost immediate and you shifted in your seat as you thought ahead……

Less than an hour later there was a knock at the door. You almost skipped over to it, and as you pulled it open you yanked your visitor into a hug.

“I’m so glad you’re here. If there is anyone who can help him out of this funk it’ll be you.”

Bucky smiled at you, and you could feel your insides melt. The pair of you had already been intimate on a number of occasions, although never quite going all the way. It was a line that wouldn’t be crossed until you were both sure that Steve was okay with it.

And speaking of Steve, another crash echoed through the space, followed by a frustrated cry.

“You go get the bedroom ready, darlin’, pull up a chair nice and close and I’ll bring our boy through.”

You dropped a quick kiss to his lips before rushing off, shedding clothes in your wake, and leaving a giggle in the air. You turned the bedside lights on, pulled back the comforter and retrieved a few items from the drawer. Next you grabbed the arms of the comfy chair that Steve kept in his room and drew it closer to the bed, close enough that you could sit in it and prop your feet up on the mattress.

Steve and Bucky crashed through the door a few moments later, locked in each other’s arms, kissing fiercely. Steve was already missing his t-shirt and the fly of Bucky’s jeans was open. You felt yourself starting to get wet, just from looking at the pair of them. Bucky pulled back from Steve, who chased his lips and let out a small whine.

“Stevie, you need to go and get all washed up for me, hmmmm.”

You chuckled at the sight of your normally domineering boyfriend looking all needy and soft, like a giant Labrador, whilst Bucky shoed him towards the en-suite.

As you settled yourself, only clad in your underwear, in the chair, Bucky turned to look at you.

“Getting comfy there, darlin’?”

“Absolutely.” You grinned and leaned forwards, drawing his eyes to your breasts that were threatening to spill out of your bra.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you trying to distract me?”

“Of course not, Bucky. Just keeping you occupied and revved up whilst you wait.”

He lifted one of his legs over yours where they were propped up, straddling you, and then, resting his hands on the arms of the chair, he bent down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. You’d kissed a few times now and you loved the way that kisses from him were different from Steve. Steve rarely let himself go, there was always an underlying restraint to him. But Bucky was pure, uninhibited passion. And you couldn’t wait to see Steve enthralled by it. Hopefully this would be what he needed to put his current demons to rest.

And speaking of Steve, his deep chuckle had you and Bucky pulling apart, as your boyfriend came out of the bathroom, hair damp, and a small towel around his waist. A small towel that was slightly tented.

“You trying to get my best guy all for yourself, Cali?”

“Of course not, baby. Just keeping him warm for you.”

You placed a light smack on Bucky’s jeans covered ass to send him over to Steve, but before he moved he looked down at you with dark eyes. A look that made you want to whine and press your thighs together. Then he was striding across the room and claiming Steve again with his mouth, enfolding him in his arms. Your boyfriend moaned, looking so very wanton; his hands were fisted into Bucky’s shirt and he looked as though he was trying to crawl inside him. After a few moments Bucky pulled away, spinning them so they were both facing you, Steve’s back to Bucky’s front. Then he unhooked the towel and let it drift to the floor. Steve’s cock stood out hard in front of him, tip flushed and weeping.

“Look at your girl, Stevie. She can’t wait to see you come apart under my touch. She’s already wet at the thought of it. Ain’t you darlin’?”

You smiled at them, something addictive about the glassy look in Steve’s eyes. They were so beautiful together, such raw masculinity, but also softened and tender at the same time. Bucky was running his fingers lightly up and down Steve’s torso, dragging over his pecs and abdominals, making him shiver in anticipation. Or maybe it was those sinful lips trailing over Steve’s shoulder and neck that were causing that reaction. Steve’s eyes fluttered and his head fell back onto Bucky’s shoulder.

“Bucky, please…..”

“Aw, Stevie, so needy. Want me to touch you?” He slid his hands down over Steve’s hips, gripping onto the muscled flesh before moving his left over to wrap around the hard length. He slowly moved his hand up and down, and your own hand travelled down inside of your underwear as you watched. You let out your own moan of pleasure as your fingers moved through your slick folds.

“OK, doll. Time for you to show your sweetheart how good you can be for me.” Without another word, Steve turned in Bucky’s arms, then sank to the floor. He finished undoing Bucky’s half open fly, the jeans dropping to the ground, as Steve, like a man entranced, released Bucky’s cock from the confines of his boxers. He licked his lips, before taking hold of it and starting to run his tongue up it from root to tip. Now it was Bucky’s turn to let out a moan, steadying himself with one hand of Steve’s shoulder and the other on his head.

“Fuck, your mouth Stevie. I bet it’s just as good for her.” You couldn’t help your own indrawn breath as Steve fastened his lips around the mushroom head of Bucky’s thick cock and started to suckle on it. You couldn’t get over how wet you were, and decided you needed to slow down otherwise you’d finish too soon.

Removing your hand from your panties you got up from the chair and walked over to the boys. Steve pulled back and they both looked at you.

“Steve, you need to stop teasing Bucky.” You wrapped your slick covered hand around Bucky’s cock, the first time you had touched it so. “You need to get all the way down to the bottom baby.”

You’d never been this domineering in the bedroom before, but seeing Steve like this seemed to have ignited something within you. You jacked Bucky a few times, liberally smearing your juices on his cock. Then, once you’d let go of it, you placed your hand on the back of Steve’s head and pushed him back towards Bucky.

“Come on, baby. Taste us together.” Your boyfriend didn’t need to be told twice. With his hands gripping his best friend’s thighs, he swallowed him down, Bucky shouting at the sensation and Steve moaning at the taste of you combined with Bucky’s pre-come. He hollowed his cheeks and moved his head, the sounds lewd in the relative silence of the room. Drool was running out of his mouth, running over his chin and Bucky’s sac.

Whilst the two were wrapped up in each other you removed your bra and panties and settled back on the arm chair. You hand went back between your legs, now spread wide, with your feet propped back on the bed. You pressed two fingers inside your cunt, leisurely pumping into yourself, but without any real sense of urgency. But the noises that you made caught Bucky’s attentions. He pulled Steve off his cock, a string of pre-come connecting it to your boyfriend’s lips.

“Our audience is getting restless Stevie. Time for the next act. Up!” He gave Steve a gentle tug on his hair to encourage him to his feet and then, equally gently, pushed him towards the bed.

“Hands and knees, baby, then turn your face towards your Cali.” Steve followed the direction, his body perpendicular to you. His cock was red-tipped and leaking profusely as it pointed heavily towards the sheets. His expression was completely fucked out already. Bucky shuffled up behind him, settling on his knees between Steve’s spread thighs. The snick of the lube bottle opening had some kind of Pavlovian response on Steve, as his breathing picked up so he was almost panting.

Then Bucky was trailing a slick finger up from Steve’s taint to swirl around his tight hole. Steve shivered, and you bit your lip as you watched.

“So, here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna open you up on my fingers, get you all needy and whiny, then I’m gonna fuck you on my cock whilst your girlfriend watches you come apart. If you’re good, and she enjoys herself, I’ll let you come. You understand?”

Steve nodded into the sheets, a breathy “yes” escaping him. Bucky drizzled some more lube right onto Steve’ opening, smearing it with his middle finger before sinking it in to the first knuckle. Of all the noises Steve has made so far, this was by far the most salacious. You palmed one of your breasts as you increased the pace at which you were fingering your pussy. It wasn’t long before Bucky’s finger was sinking all the way in and he added a second. Steve was so lost in the pleasure coursing through him that he was humping back onto the invading digits and you and Bucky looked at each other, the brunet’s face plastered with a shit-eating grin. You saw Bucky twist his wrist and Steve’s shouted, his eyes rolling back into his head and his heavy cock twitching. His friend just chuckled, before adding a third finger.

You knew what was coming, so you pulled your fingers from yourself and grabbed the dildo of Steve’s cock that normally resided on the Sybian. You lubed it up and held it ready. Bucky’s full attention was back on Steve. With his free hand he poured lube onto his own straining cock, and smeared it over the full length. He pulled his fingers from Steve’s ass, and lined himself up. As he sunk the tip in, his head fell back and Steve’s eyes closed. You started to work the dildo into yourself, forcing yourself to match Bucky’s slow progress.

He bottomed out, and both men groaned in pleasure.

“BuckBuckBuck…. oh god…. please…. please.” Your boyfriend was begging and it was such a delicious sound. His friend obliged, pulling back, oh so slowly, building the tension before snapping his hips forwards, causing his thighs to clap against Steve’s ass cheeks.

All three of you moaned this time and you started to fuck yourself with the dildo as Bucky fucked Steve into the mattress. You couldn’t believe how hot it was, watching them together. You’d fantasied about it a lot since that evening you and Bucky had been introduced and Steve had told you about their ‘special’ relationship. You knew that Steve was the only person Bucky didn’t use protection with, and as all three of you had been recently tested, you knew you didn’t need to worry on that score.

You readjusted so you could rub at your clit as you fucked yourself. Fuck, you’d never been this turned on. Steve’s eyes were closed and he was letting out little punched-out moans as Bucky drove into him.

“Steve, open your eyes, doll. Look at your girl. Look at how much you turn her on. Look at her fucking herself and creaming on that dildo, just from watching you take me.” Christ, Bucky had a filthy mouth. But Steve’s baby blues sought out your eyes as asked before his gaze drifted to your core watching your pussy stretch and swallow up his facsimile.

“Oh fuck……..”

God he was barely able to talk. He was actually drooling of his own accord now. You changed the angle of the silicone cock inside you so it rubbed against your g-spot. Your head fell back and your eyes closed, but the image of Steve wrecked in front of you remained in your mind, and the sounds the pair of them were making were really doing it for you. Your moans joined theirs as you drove yourself higher until you were bucking your hips up onto the dildo and screaming your release.

There was a sudden quiet in the room, only punctuated by three sets of lungs breathing hard. You opened your eyes to find both Steve and Bucky staring at you.

“Well look at that, Stevie. Your girl squirted.” You looked down and saw the damp splatters trailing from where you were sat over onto Steve’s side, where creamy drops were running down his skin.

“Guess that means she did enjoy herself. Which means, you get to come, doll. You want that?” Bucky rotated his hips as he spoke.

“Yes… god... please… Buck. Want to come.”

“Hey, darlin’, care to help?” You nodded through your daze. “Well come on up here.” God, his grin.

You pulled the dildo out of your messy cunt and climbed up next to Steve’s head.

“Open up Steve, gonna help Bucky stuff you full.”

He looked at you, eyes lustful, as he opened his mouth and allowed you to slide the toy inside. You pumped it in and out, a hand on his head holding him steady.

“Come on, clean it off for me. You’re the one who made me mess it up.”

As Steve got lost in your dominance of him, that’s when Bucky started moving again. You matched your speeds, taking it in turn to fuck Steve back and forth between you. And you were hypnotised by it.

“Fuck, Bucky. Is he like this every time?”

“Every time I fuck him? Pretty much. Aaaah fuck, he’s almost there. Can feel him gripping me. Christ, I think he’s getting off on us talking about him.”

Bucky moved his left hand from Steve’s hip and grasped his hair, bring his head up, the dildo still in his mouth. “Is that it, slut? Like just being an object for us to use? Jeez, I felt that, you do!”

Bucky picked up his pace, losing his own control now, so you kept the dildo still, the brunet making all the movement necessary for the three of you.

“Come on Stevie, give it up for me, come on doll, want you to come on our cocks, that’s it. Help him along darlin’, yeah jack his dick, aah fuck, you feel so good.”

Bucky came with a shout, his head thrown back and his hips jerking as he spilt inside Steve. This seems to tip the blond over his own edge. A high-pitched whine came from him as he trembled between the two of you, his cock shooting ropes of come across the bed and your hand. The dildo fell from his lips and you let it roll off the bed onto the floor as Steve collapsed forward and Bucky rolled to the side, both panting hard. You stroked Steve’s hair, as Bucky pulled him into a hug from behind.

After a few moments, you rose and went to the bathroom. You gave yourself a quick clean with a washcloth, then dampening two more, moved back to the bedroom and passed one to Bucky. You wiped Steve’s face gently, removing the remains of your release and his own saliva, before carefully cleaning up his abdomen and groin. Bucky cleaned both himself and Steve’s ass, before collapsing back down.

You returned the soiled cloths to the bathroom and by the time you came back through, Steve was already soundly asleep. You stopped by Bucky, and bent down to give him a lingering kiss.

“Thank you for being here.”

“Any time darlin’. I’m always available for my best guy and his gal. You’re pretty special, you know that? Not many women would be happy to share their man.”

“Aahh, but he needs both of us, I think?”

“And what about you, sweetheart?” His voice was almost a whisper, a hint of something like worry in his voice.

“Oh, Buck, yeah, I’m starting to think I need both of you too. Let me sleep on it with my two guys, okay?”

“Okay, yeah, I can get behind that.” His eyes were almost closed now, and you brushed a lock of his hair off his face and pressed a second, but chaste, kiss to his forehead. You walked around the bed, thankful that Steve had a California king, and climbed in beside him, where he lay peacefully between you and his best friend.

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #stucky x reader smut #stucky

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babyboibucky · 4 years

Text

Charming (Part 2 of Charm)

Pairing: TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky has everything planned out for his date with you.

Word Count: 2,566

Warnings: No TFATWS spoilers here, Bucky being charming (hence the title) is a warning in itself

A/N: Ahhh you guys, thank you for all the love for Charm! I didn’t expect for that oneshot to receive so much love from everyone. Can’t thank y’all enough!!! For those who haven’t read it yet, make sure to do so before reading this!

Charm (Part 1) || MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky nervously waited outside of your apartment building. He made sure to plan really well for this date, he didn’t want to mess up. He really liked talking to you and he wanted you to enjoy this day.

“Okay, I’m ready!” You announced as you stepped out of the building, jogging downstairs to approach him.

You looked excited, Bucky noticed. Okay, that’s good. He’s off to a good start. He found himself smiling at you, admiring this light and bright aura that radiated off of you. He could use a little light in his life and it might be too soon for Bucky to even consider it, but you seemed like the perfect girl to him.

“Hi.” Bucky greeted. “You look beautiful.” He said, eyeing you from head to toe.

Bucky’s confidence grew when your cheeks turned pink at his compliment. You thanked him and let your eyes fall to his left arm, making Bucky instantly regret his decision to forego the gloves. He should’ve worn his jacket on top of his blue henley. All his worries though eventually dissipated when you reassured him.

“Glad you aren’t wearing your gloves, it looked really uncomfortable.” You told him genuinely.

Bucky shyly let out a chuckle, “Yeah.”

“So, to the park?” You asked excitedly.

Bucky made a face, “Actually, I thought of changing our plans a bit. Hope that’s alright?” He asked hopefully.

You narrowed your eyes at him as you nodded, “Hmm, that sounds interesting. Alright then, what do you got?”

Embarrassment filled Bucky’s entire being when he whipped out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket. He glanced at you and watched your expression as he unfolded it, revealing it to be the size of a bond paper where he had written down his agenda for the day.

“Oh wow, that’s...very interesting.” You pointed out but with no malice. In fact, you were impressed.

Who would’ve thought that guys nowadays came to a date prepared? But then again, Bucky wasn’t from this time but truly appreciated how old-fashioned he still was.

Bucky rubbed his neck, “I made an itinerary but saying that out loud, it actually sounds terrible.”

“Not at all!” You were quick to defend. “I like a well-planned day. I’m not really the spontaneous type so this really works well for me.” You chuckled.

Bucky bit his lip to stop himself from smiling too wide. It seemed like the date would go pretty well, he hoped it’d last the entire day though. He couldn’t help but worry that something might happen that would throw you off. Or that he might end up saying things that you’d find offensive.

“What’s first on the itinerary?” You asked.

“I got a strike!” You squealed in excitement and pumped your first in the air.

Bucky took you to a bowling place and honestly, he didn’t expect for you to be so excited about it. He felt silly for outdoing himself for this first date. In fact, he researched about dating in the modern day the moment he got home after meeting you. The tips were very different, some of which he wasn’t comfortable doing. So instead of adjusting to the present, Bucky stayed true to himself.

He was going to do it his own way, no matter how traditional it seemed. This led him to writing down his ideas on a piece of paper and planning everything out properly.

“Looks like I won.” You smirked, seeing the scores flash on the television hanging on the ceiling. “Did you go easy on me? Tell me the truth, Bucky.” You warned as you looked at him suspiciously.

Bucky chortled and shook his head, “I didn’t. It’s been decades since the last time I did this so I got pretty rusty at it.” He explained.

“You ready to grab something to eat?” He asked, checking the time and seeing that it was close to three in the afternoon.

You nodded enthusiastically, “I’m starving! I mean, beating a super soldier at bowling can be really exhausting.” You teased.

Bucky smiled, “Great, but can we stop by somewhere first?”

Bucky felt proud at himself when he saw the astonished look in your face.

“Oh my god, is this...?” You asked, eyeing the car that Bucky drove out of a car rental shop.

“A 1942 Pontiac Torpedo.” Bucky boasted before stepping out of the car and leading you towards the front seat.

Bucky waited for you to slip in, your expression still that of utter disbelief, before closing the door and walking around to ride back inside.

“And it’s the convertible one.” He said proudly and laughed at your reaction when he brought down the roof.

“I have no words for this, Bucky. This is amazing!” You exclaimed, running your hands on the compartment and just taking in the beautiful interiors of the vintage car.

Bucky watched you with a soft look in his eyes. He felt kind of selfish for gloating at the fact that this date only proved to himself that he still is James Buchanan Barnes. Despite decades of torture and brainwashing as the Winter Soldier, he still had pieces of himself left.

But seeing you so giddy at the date that he poured so much effort in? Maybe he wasn’t so selfish after all.

“And where will you be taking us next for you to rent this lovely vehicle? I honestly don’t know what to expect after this. I’m just...I love it!” You laughed, unable to hide your excitement.

“We’re having burgers and milkshakes.” Bucky announced.

Bucky wanted you to experience what it was like dating in his time, so it was only right that he took you to a diner. But it wasn’t just the regular one, he took you to a drive-in diner where waitresses even wore roller derby skates.

“You just keep on outdoing yourself, Bucky. I’m speechless!” You laughed.

The waitress rolled by your car and took your orders. After she left, there was finally a moment of peace which allowed you and Bucky to have an actual conversation.

“Did you often hang out in one of these places then?” You asked.

Bucky smiled at the memories, “Yeah, used to take Steve with me. He always ended up getting mad whenever he realized that it was a set-up for a double date.”

You hummed in amusement. “You seemed really popular with the ladies, huh?”

Bucky chuckled timidly before letting out a sigh. He turned to you curiously and creased his forehead, “Why didn’t you tell me you knew who I was?” He finally asked.

You seemed surprised at his question but your features softened up almost immediately. Shrugging as if it was no big deal, you told him that you really didn’t feel the need to do so.

“Would it change anything if I told you I knew who you were?” You curiously asked.

Bucky thought for a brief moment, “I probably would’ve excused myself and left.”

“That’s what I thought.” You said. “You seemed comfortable then, I didn’t want to overwhelm you by bringing it up. Besides, I really don’t care about it. I mean, I had fun talking to you and that’s all that matters to me. Superhero or not, I do enjoy your company.”

Bucky snickered, “I don’t think superhero is the right word.”

“You’ll be surprised that a lot of people call you that.” You said, placing a hand on Bucky’s arm, squeezing it to offer him comfort.

Bucky loosened up at your touch and kept his gaze lingering on how your fingers were wrapped around his arm.

“There’s this one kid at the orphanage I volunteer at,” you said, letting go of Bucky’s arm as you adjusted your position in the car so you could turn to him. Bucky almost missed the warmth from your hand on his skin.

“I asked them to draw someone they looked up to and this is his work.” You said, bringing out your phone to show Bucky a photo of the drawing.

Bucky’s breath hitched when you handed him your phone, revealing that the kid drew a man with long brown hair and a metal arm. He used black and gold to color the metal arm, not silver. It didn’t even have the red star on it. When Bucky looked up at you, he saw the most genuine smile he had ever seen.

“I asked him why he chose you and he said that he liked how Captain America’s best friend fought alongside him. For a kid his age, he knew a lot about your history too. He’s a huge fan.” You laughed.

Bucky’s eyes almost brimmed with tears. He was unable to believe that a kid would look up to him, consider him a superhero. All this time he had been seeing himself as a villain still, the bad guy. Someone who would have a hard time redeeming himself. You made him think twice about it, that maybe he had been too harsh on himself.

“You should come with me to the orphanage some time. The kids will love you, Bucky. It’s not that hard to do so.” You said softly, lifting your hand up to fix a strand of Bucky’s hair that was out of place.

It was a beautiful moment between the two of you. Bucky felt vulnerable but safe, like you’d keep him safe. Not from danger but from his very own destructive thoughts. Whenever he loses control of his mind, whenever it wanders into the darkest parts of his past, Bucky tends to self-destruct. And he almost wandered there but you were quick to pull him back to the surface.

“What are you thinking of?” You asked when you noticed that Bucky was just staring at you.

Bucky’s gaze fell onto your lips and then back at your eyes, “Thinking about whether I should just go for it now.”

“Go for what?” You blinked.

Bucky slowly leaned in but was immediately startled when the waitress arrived with your orders.

After the diner, Bucky drove to the park where the two of you walked around while talking about well, anything. He learned more about you and this time, he didn’t have to lie about anything whenever you asked him. In fact, Bucky got really comfortable opening up about his life in the 40’s, he even talked about his family.

The two of you talked more until the sun set and the next thing you knew was that Bucky brought you to a drive-in theater and bought pizza to cap off the date.

It was a little past ten in the evening when Bucky drove you home. He opened the car door for you and nervously fidgeted with the piece of paper in his back pocket.

“So did you tick off everything on the itinerary?” You asked.

Bucky let out the fakest laugh because no, he hasn’t ticked off everything on his list. There was one more thing that he planned to do at the very end of the date. He had been confident about it, especially after how much you enjoyed the date in its entirety. But, now standing outside your apartment building and staring at you nervously, he wasn’t sure whether he had enough courage to pull this off.

“I uhh...well...” Bucky stammered. “Did you enjoy?” He asked again, just to be sure.

“I am offended that you had to ask because I thought my face was unable to hide at how much I did!” You laughed.

“Thank you for giving me the 1940s experience. I love it. I really do, it’s...it’s been a while since I last went on a date that I really enjoyed.” You shyly admitted, biting your lip and looking up at Bucky through your lashes.

Bucky’s breath got caught in his throat as he gazed down at you. You looked really beautiful, no matter how simple you looked. He wanted to take you out to another date, maybe tomorrow. Or the next day perhaps, actually, Bucky wanted to be with you every single day.

You were so kind and bubbly, you offered so much light to his darkness. He loved how your hopeful attitude rubbed off on him, he badly needed it. And he loved how you made him feel...himself. He was just Bucky Barnes, a guy navigating through the modern times and finding his place in this world. And it would seem like an easy task with you by his side.

“Well, I guess this is it.” You said. “Thanks again, Bucky. I really did enjoy.”

Bucky was surprised when you stepped closer to him for a hug. Feeling your arms wrap around his waist and your hair brush against his chin gave him the boost of confidence he needed to finally check off the last on his date itinerary.

By the time he convinced himself to do it, you already stepped back and bid Bucky good night.

Bucky proved to himself the other night that he still has his charm from back then. And tonight, he was going to prove that his charm was going to sweep you off of your feet.

“Wait, one last thing.” Bucky said, reaching out for your wrist.

He tugged you forward making you squeal, and then wrapped his metal arm around your waist before swooping you down for a kiss.

Bucky wasn’t sure how you would react to his kiss but he could no longer hold himself back. It could either make or break his friendship with you, but Bucky just had to. And it wasn’t just to prove something to himself, he’d been wanting to kiss you all throughout the day. He would have already, at the diner, if only the waitress didn’t interrupt his little moment with you.

He almost panicked when your lips remained still, but it all went away when he felt your hands wrap around his shoulders before finally kissing him back. Bucky’s lips curled into a smile against yours as he slowly straightened, bringing you back up before pulling away.

You panted against his lips, your hands sliding down to rest on Bucky’s chest as his landed on your hips.

“Was that...was that a part of your list?” You breathlessly asked.

“Yes. Almost went for it at the diner but I guess the universe wanted for me to stick to the schedule.” He grinned.

You threw your head back in laughter, “So that’s what you meant by that!”

Bucky laughed in agreement and held your face in his metal hand, noticing how you weren’t thrown off. Instead, you turned your face to even press a kiss on his palm.

“Was I too fast? Kissing you on the first date?” He asked, caressing your face.

You shook your head, “You did wait until the end of the date to do so, I guess your timing was just right.”

“And...how was it?” Bucky meekly asked, almost afraid that he might have sucked given that this was his first kiss in decades.

Smiling, you leaned in again to give him a quick peck on the lips. A reassurance, something to melt Bucky’s worries away.

“What can I say? James Bucky Barnes, you are one charming man.”

Now, Bucky was a hundred percent sure that he still has it in him. And he made a mental note to boast to Yori how his first date with you went.

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @i’m-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @tcc-gizmachine @prettyintopeerpressure @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit @bloodhon3yx @dressed-in-prada @lizette50 @thatfangirl42

Some tags aren’t walking ugh I’m so sorry to all those that tumblr failed to tag!

#bbbwrites #oneshots: bucky barnes #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff

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crackheadgeminibby · 3 years

Note

Would you write something about x reader wanting to Chris do his tap dance and refuse to but gets convinced by his girlfriend? ☺️

wrapped around her finger

pairing: chris evans x female!black!reader

warnings: age gap, language, fluff, mentions of alcohol i guess

word count: 1.4k

a/n: hey! thanks for this request, it’s something i didn’t know i needed in my life😂i hope you like it!!

i do not consent to my work being copied in any way, shape or form or reposted on any other platform

gif from TMZ

In the two years that you had been in a relationship with Chris, you had never seen him dance. Like an actual dance. Obviously, you had both attended numerous parties together and he always did stupid dance moves to make his friends, but mostly you, laugh.

You would think that with you being a dancer, Chris wouldn’t mind busting out some of the dance moves he learned when he was younger, but he never did. You asked all the time, mostly when he wasn't 100% sober and, thus, less self-conscious, but he always said that he didn’t remember.

It was the holiday season and this year, Chris and you had decided to spend it in Boston with his family. You both had a lot of things to take care of and you couldn’t afford to abandon them to travel halfway across the world to be with your family.

It was your first holiday season spent at the Evans’, which meant that you were about to witness a lot of their family traditions for the first time.

The first tradition that had been explained to you was that on December 23rd, the men went to get a tree while the women decorated the living room, followed by everyone decorating the tree when the men came back.

The next tradition was that, after Christmas Eve dinner, everyone had to open one present: matching pyjamas for the whole family.

The third tradition was the Christmas Day breakfast in the pyjamas from the previous night followed by games and a talent show.

You were currently seated in one of the chairs in the living room, watching as Scott and Chris were failing spectacularly at Pictionary.

“Time’s up!”, Shanna signals.

Scott groans, throwing his head back, “It was 'twist', Chris! Come on!”

Chris frowns at his brother, looking at the drawing, “How the hell was I supposed to guess that?”

“I drew a game of Twister!”

Chris crosses his arms, “It looks nothing like Twister, Scott.”

You snort before laughing at their bickering. You get up, leaving your glass on top of the fireplace, “Come on, Steve, it’s our turn!”

Scott groans, handing you the Sharpie as you get a piece of paper from the box. You open it, seeing 'gold medal' scribbled on it.

You smirk and turn back towards the family, nodding at Shanna so she can start the timer.

“Okay… GO!”, she announces.

You turn towards the paper, drawing a gold bar. Steve looks at you, inquisitively, before saying, “Umm, chocolate!” You shake your head, adding other gold bars to create a pyramid.

Steve looks at you, trying to figure out what you’re drawing, before screaming, “Oh! Gold bars!” You make a wavy sign with your hand, indicating that he’s almost there.

“Bar?” You shake your head again.

“Oh, okay, gold!”

You nod excitedly, moving on to the next part of the drawing. You draw a circle, writing 1 in it, and add a lanyard on top.

“1st place!” You shake your head at Steve, encircling the entire drawing, indicating that the answer is the whole thing.

“Umm, medal?” You frantically nod your head.

“Gold medal!”

“Yes!”, you scream in response. Steve gets up and hugs you excitedly before you both start doing your winner dance.

Scott and Chris both look at you, mouths agape, while a look of fake offense draws itself on Scott’s face, “How in the hell do you have a better connection with my boyfriend than I do with my brother?”

You chuckle, before shrugging your shoulders and replying, “Don’t worry, Scott. That was the last round so we're done winning everything…”

Scott and Chris both look at you with pouts on their faces as you laugh loudly, throwing your head back. You raise your hands in surrender and back away before plopping down in your seat, taking a sip of your drink.

“So, I believe I was told a talent show would be happening?”, you ask, wiggling your eyebrows.

Lisa smiles widely before nodding, “Indeed. Chris and Scott, do you want to start us off?”

Chris and Scott turn on the TV, playing their music. You didn’t know what they had planned because as Chris had said: “you have to wait for the surprise”.

You immediately burst out in laughter as the melody of “A Whole New World” from Aladdin starts.

Chris had made you watch Aladdin at least three times in the past couple of weeks (you had stopped counting) and you were confused, but you didn’t particularly mind since you loved the movie.

You smile throughout their excellent rendition of the song, clapping and cheering when they’re finished. Chris smiles, sitting down next to you before Lisa announces that Shanna and Carly were next with a scene from Lilo & Stitch.

As his sisters are playing Lilo & Stitch hilariously well, Chris turns towards you, smiling, before taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles, whispering “I love you”. You feel heat rising to your face, smiling back at him and kissing his cheek before laying your head on his shoulder.

As Shanna and Carly are bowing after their performance, you see Lisa turning to you.

“Okay, Y/N, your turn.”

Your eyes widen as you stare at her, “Wait, what? I didn’t know I was supposed to prepare something.” Lisa raises an eyebrow before looking over at Chris who was getting redder by the second.

You look at him intently before he stutters, “I… um… forgot to tell you?”

You groan at him, throwing your head back. Lisa chuckles silently before saying, “Well, then, since you forgot to say anything, maybe you should join her.”

Chris’ head snaps up towards his mom, “What? Ma, no. I already went.”

Lisa looks at Chris before shrugging her shoulders.

“Well, then. You heard your mom. Up.”, you tell Chris while standing up.

Chris looks up at you, raising an eyebrow. He clearly had no intention of getting up.

“What are we even going to do?”

You smirk at Chris.

“Well, I intend on singing ‘I Just Can’t Wait To Be King’, now what you do next to me is... Dealer's choice.”, you say, shrugging your shoulders.

Scott’s face lights up, “Oh my God, Chris, why don’t you tap dance while she sings?”

Chris shakes his head rapidly, crossing his arms over his chest, “No. Absolutely not.”

Chris’ family members all start to plead, saying that they haven’t seen him tap dance in so long. He doesn’t budge, continuing to shake his head. As his family abandon their mission, falling silent, Chris looks up at you.

You give him a pleading look, mouthing "please" before biting your bottom lip. He uncrosses his arms, maintaining eye contact with you, before sighing loudly, “Fine…”

You smile at him, leaving a kiss on his cheek, before asking, “Okay, well, where are your shoes?”

He sighs again, starting to get up, “They’re in my closet, I’ll get them.”

You hold up your hand, replying, “I’ll get them. I wanted to get myself some water anyways.”

He nods before settling back down in his seat.

You climb up the stairs, entering Chris’ room before heading to the closet. As you’re looking for his shoes, you can hear that the family has started to talk, rather loudly.

As you’re getting a glass of water from the kitchen, you hear Chris’ mom.

“She really just has you wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah, yeah, she does.”, you hear Chris reply, love evident in his voice.

You enter the living room, a large smile plastered on your face, dangling Chris' tap shoes with one hand, “Well, then, Mr. Dancer, let’s do it.”

#chris evans #chris evans x black!reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x woc #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfics

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Text

You're Teasing Me

Bucky x f!reader

Summary: Sam offers to help you when Bucky refuses to duet with you on karaoke night.

Warnings: promiscuous themes lmao

Word Count: 2200

a/n: we back baby, another karaoke fic lol. This one came to me and I just needed it in my life. Song is Promiscuous Girl by Nelly Furtado feat. Timbaland.

Just bold is you, italics and bold is Sam!

Masterlist

"Bucky, come on!" You pleaded, desperate to get him to agree.

He just huffed, continuing on his path to the kitchen.

"It'll be fun! We can sing something from high school musical! Or something from the 40s!" You tried encouraging him with a song choice.

"Look, Doll. I don't sing. I just can't do it." He wouldn't look at you, no matter where you placed yourself in the room.

"That's not true. I've heard you sing!" You challenged, completely making up the statement.

"Okay, well I don't sing in front of people." He eyes you suspiciously, wondering when you could have heard him singing. "At least, not on purpose."

You let out a low whine, trying to think of a way to convince him. Just then, Sam and Steve walked into the room.

"Uh oh, what did tin man do this time?" Sam chuckled at your pout.

"He won't sing with me at Tony's duets-only karaoke party." It was your turn to huff, jutting out your bottom lip in a pout.

"C'mon Buck! You're a great singer." Steve encouraged his friend, unaware of why he didn't want to do it.

"No can do, punk." Bucky glared at Steve, annoyed that he wasn't on his side.

"I'll do it." Sam cut in, knowing it would annoy Bucky if he sang with you.

"Really?!" You jumped from your seat at the island, excited at the idea of someone singing with you.

"Sure, it'll be fun." Sam replied with mischief in his eyes.

You squealed in excitement, throwing yourself at Sam for a hug.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You grabbed his hand, dragging him out of the room. "We have to go pick a song!"

Steve turned back to Bucky after laughing at your childlike enthusiasm, not missing the glare on the brunette's face.

Steve just shook his head, laughing again. "You could have just agreed to sing with her."

"I could not. I can't take that chance! What if I stared at her for too long and she figured everything out!" Bucky exclaimed, affronted by Steve's statement.

"Would that be such a bad thing?" Steve knew this conversation would lead nowhere, but he was going to try anyway. "Maybe there's a reason she asked you?"

"Because I'm her friend." Bucky glared again. "That's how she sees me."

"I think you're wrong." Steve shook his head, leaving Bucky to contemplate his decisions alone in the kitchen

"Let's cut to the chase." Sam started talking, cutting off your list of song choices.

"About what?" You questioned back, thrown off by the statement.

"You've got a thing for Buckaroo." He said it with so much confidence, you almost forgot to deny it.

"No, I don-"

"And he's got a thing for you." Sam cut you off, you're eyes going wide.

"He what? How do you know that?" You narrowed your eyes, wanting to know more, but not knowing if you could fully trust Sam.

"Look, I wouldn't joke about this. I can tell Barnes likes you, specifically because of how much he denies it."

You bit your lip in thought, wondering if it could really be true. Ultimately, you tried to change the subject.

"Can't we just pick a song?"

"That's why I brought it up. I think I know a way to get him to admit his feelings..." Sam grinned, the same mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he had in the kitchen.

"O-okay. How?" You slowly asked, unsure if a plan concocted by Sam WIlson would pan out.

"The song choice. I've got the best one to make him regret not agreeing to sing with you."

He smirked again, somehow convincing you to follow along with his idea.

"Our next duet..." Tony glanced down at his list, scanning for the next two names. "Sam and Y/N!"

You squeezed Sam's hand, still unsure about his plan. You refused to look at Bucky, too nervous to see his expression, completely missing the daggers he was glaring at Sam.

The two of you jumped right into the song Sam chose, wearing completely mismatched expressions.

"Am I throwing you off?"

"Nope"

"Didn't think so."

The instrumental track in the background started to ease your nerves, allowing you to actually enjoy the performance.

"How you doin' young lady? The feelin' that your givin' really drives me crazy."

Sam was all smiles, doing his best to keep your nerves from getting the best of you.

Bucky choked on his drink when he took in the song. He had never heard it before, but judging by the first few lines he wasn't going to like that it was Sam singing with you.

"Your dope have a player 'bout to choke. I was at a loss of words, first time that we spoke."

Bucky let the words sink in. He knew Sam must've chosen this song. It wasn't even in the top twenty suggestions you gave him when you were asking him to sing.

Bucky's 'player' status from the 40s never really came back in the present. He was too guilty, too stuck in his head with everything he had been through.

The first time he met you, he was speechless. You were so kind and accepting, he didn't know how to respond to your compliments and reassurance.

"If you lookin' for a girl that'll treat you right, if you lookin' for her in the daytime with the light..."

You still refused to make eye contact with Bucky, knowing if it didn't go well you would mess up the rest of the song.

Bucky held his breath as you started singing. Everything you said applied directly to him, but you were singing to Sam.

"You might be the type if I play my cards right. I'll find out by the end of the night."

Sam winked at you causing Bucky to feel a pit of jealousy growing in his stomach, just wanting the song to be over so he could talk to you.

"You expect me to just let you hit it, but will you still respect me if you get it?"

Sam grinned like a man possessed, knowing the next line would really get to Bucky.

"All I can do is try, gimme one chance."

He looked directly at Bucky. It was taunting, almost as if he was saying "this could have been you."

"What's the problem, I don't see no ring on your hand."

Bucky was seeing red. He knew Sam was doing this to mess with him, but he couldn't figure out why you would agree to it.

Maybe Sam told you about Bucky's crush? But, you wouldn't tease him like this. Not unless...

He tuned back into your performance just in time for the chorus.

"Promiscuous girl, wherever you are. I'm all alone, and it's you that I want."

Sam subtly gestured for you to look at Bucky, encouraging you to take a chance. You made direct eye contact with him as you sang, trying to listen to Sam's advice.

"Promiscuous boy, you already know, that I'm all yours what are you waiting for?"

Bucky couldn't stop the ear to ear smile from growing on his face as you sang those words directly to him. You smiled right back, nerves fading completely due to the look on his face.

You threw yourself into the performance, really wanting to give him a show now that you were confident Sam was right.

"Promiscuous girl, you're teasing me. You know what I want, and you got what I need."

Sam looked between you and Bucky, a smug smile appearing on his face. Of course he was right.

You surprised both Sam and Bucky as you kept singing, dancing with Sam in a less than platonic way.

"Promiscuous boy, let's get to the point. 'Cause we're on a roll, you ready?"

Sam faltered for a second before realizing, you were trying to tease Bucky for waiting so long. Teasing Bucky is definitely something he could get on board with.

The two of you danced around the stage, having the time of your lives. Every so often, you would look at Bucky, making sure he was still enjoying the show.

"Roses are read, some diamonds are blue. Chivalry is dead but you're still kinda cute."

Bucky blushed as you made eye contact again. The way you were dancing with Sam filled him with a mixture of jealousy and arousal.

"Hey, I can't keep my mind off you. Where you at? Do you mind if I come through?"

Steve clapped Bucky on his back, drawing his attention from the two of you as you continued the song.

"Don't say it, punk." Bucky was trying to sound intimidating, but the lovestruck look on his face did little to aid him.

"I'm going to say it, jerk. That could've been you up there. Singing..." Steve drew out the pause. "Dancing..." He chuckled as Bucky blushed further.

Steve himself blushed as you and Sam performed, although not for the same reasons as Bucky. He just wasn't used to modern dancing.

Bucky waved him off as he once again made eye contact with you.

"I'm a big girl I can handle myself, but if I get lonely I'ma need your help. Pay attention to me, I don't talk for my health."

You moved your body against Sam's slowly, dragging out the moves as you smirked at Bucky.

"I want you on my team."

"So does everybody else."

You pouted your lips before your tongue darted out to lick the bottom one. You couldn't help but bite your lip at the thought of finally talking to Bucky when this was over.

"Baby, we can keep it on the low. Let your guard down, ain't nobody gotta know. If you with it girl, I know a place we can go."

You finally separated from Sam, looking at him in mock offense to play up the song. You put your hand not holding the mic over your heart, shaking your head with an innocent expression.

"What kinda girl do you take me for?"

You and Sam danced around through another chorus, although much less suggestively than your previous moves.

The song was like static in Bucky's ears as he stared at you, willing time to move faster so he could finally talk to you.

Sam kept smirking at Bucky as he sang, thoroughly enjoying the other man's misery at watching you and him perform.

"Wait, I don't mean no harm. I can see you with my t-shirt on."

"I can see you with nothing on, feeling on me before you bring that on."

You fanned yourself and bit your lip, playing up the sexual themes of the song. Everyone was having a blast watching and listening to you and Sam.

Nat and Wanda were dancing, knowing smiles on their faces as you shamelessly stared at Bucky during the dirtiest parts of the song, knowing you'd get a rise out of him.

Steve kept looking between you, Sam, and Bucky, for once enjoying that he wasn't the one being teased with sexual dancing.

Tony was trying to grind on Pepper, the two of them laughing and smiling as she swatted him away.

You jumped around the stage through the ending of the song, feeling freer than ever knowing your secret was basically out. Anyone who didn't know, clearly wasn't paying enough attention.

You and Sam slid an arm around each other as you finished the song, taking a bow as everyone cheered you on.

As you left the stage, Sam addressed the applause. "Thank you! Thank you!" He bowed again. "I would like to point out, that song was my choice. You're welcome." He said the last part directly to Bucky, ignoring the ever present glares being thrown at him.

You cleared your throat once you were close enough, drawing Bucky's attention away from Sam, who for some reason was still onstage.

"That was quite the performance, doll." Bucky smiled, slightly nervous now that you were so close.

"Well, I had to make you'd regret not agreeing to sing with me." You cheekily replied, still basking in your karaoke confidence. You moved closer, putting one hand on his chest and reaching the other for the back of his neck.

Bucky groaned at the feeling of your hands on him, reciprocating the touches. He moved a hand to your waist, the other taking up residence on your cheek.

"You're teasing me." You whispered as he just stared at you.

"I'd say it's only fair. I had to watch you dance with Sam." Bucky grinned, enjoying the banter.

"That's your own fault." You huffed, annoyed it was taking so long for him to kiss you. "I asked- no, begged you to do karaoke with me. It's not my fault you-"

He cut you off, pressing his lips to your own. You immediately reciprocated the action, eagerly pulling him closer.

"Let me make it up to you." Bucky breathe out when you finally pulled apart for air.

You smiled, fully separating yourself from him and walking toward the door.

When you were a few steps away from him, you turned back, looking him up and down. "What are you waiting for?"

Permanent tag list:

@averyhotchner

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #marvel #steve rogers #mcu #tony stark #pepper potts #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #marvel fic

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agentmintea · 3 years

Text

@steggyfanevents Secret Santa gift for @itickledthesleepingdragon who asked for "whump," I swear ❤️️ Feel free to imagine your own ending, or you can read my ficlet under the cut.

Peggy found herself in a garden. The sort of garden that was overflowing with colourful blooms and sweet scents that assaulted her senses. The sort of garden that Mrs. Scheinberg from next door would be infatuated by, and that Peggy herself would never have the patience to maintain herself.

The sort of garden that her mother prided herself on keeping.

“Peggy? Your mom says that tea is ready.”

She turned and saw Steve, dashing in his pleated trousers and the blue button-up that matched his eyes. He had a soft smile on his face, the same one that she saw every day but never failed to make her heart race. She smiled back.

“Is everything all right? What were you doing out here, anyway?” Steve approached her and wound his arms around her waist, drawing her into the comforting warmth of his embrace.

Peggy allowed herself to lean into him for a moment, before reaching up to straighten his collar. “Just thinking, darling. You’re not still mad that I didn’t quit my job when we got married, are you?”

“What? I was never mad about that! You know I would never stop you from doing the work you want to do. I would never expect you to be the suburban housewife people like your mother want for you.” Steve gestured at the garden around them.

Peggy did know that. She rose onto her tiptoes to give him a kiss, but Steve drew back.

“I just worry about you continually putting yourself in danger. You’re not invulnerable, Peggy, and a part of me is always holding my breath waiting for the other shoe to drop. What happens if your luck runs out and the bad guys sneak up on you?”

Peggy scoffed. “I have guards around me at all hours.”

“And what if they get overpowered?”

She began to feel a wetness below her ribs. “I can take care of myself.”

“It would destroy me if you ever got hurt, Peg.” The sticky wetness spread across her silk blouse and made it cling to her skin.

“You worry too much, Steve. I'll be fine.” She patted the firm planes of his chest. Steve caught her hand in his and rubbed his thumb across the ring on her finger.

“Can you promise me?” he asked.

Peggy felt a throbbing pain where the wetness was. She looked down. Her cream-coloured blouse was stained a deep red.

“Promise me you’ll always come back to me?”

The pain seeped into her body and Peggy’s vision began to cloud.

Steve’s voice came at her muffled, as if through layers of cotton. “Peggy, I need you to come back.”

Peggy wanted to reassure him, but her throat was dry and nothing came out.

“Please. Peggy. I need you to wake up.”

She clung to the sound of Steve’s voice as her head swam. She couldn’t see or smell the garden anymore, but he was still holding her hand. She squeezed it, and heard a gasp.

“Peggy! Sweetheart, can you hear me? Please, Peg, I love you so much,” Steve sobbed.

Peggy concentrated all her energy into opening her eyes and was met with that beautiful blue gaze she knew better than her own. She absently noted the smell of antiseptic and the stiffness of hospital linens beneath her. “I love you too,” she murmured, as Steve laughed wetly and surged downward, meeting her lips with his.

#steggy #steggysecretsanta #steggy fanart #peggy carter #steve rogers #steggy art #steggy fanfic #myartsystuff #my art #hey its me again!#happy new year!#itickledthesleepingdragon #sorry for the lateness!#blood cw #injury cw #knife cw

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plainlo-inthemorning · 3 years

Text

A Loki TVA/Lokane fic. Rating T.

Previously: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 (of 6)

Shine a Light, part 5

He is aware that the love of his life is digging her fingers into his arm and saying his name.

He is aware of Stark standing to his other side, visor off, speaking to someone on the phone. His voice is hard.

But most of all, Loki is aware that all their lives were just changed by a great big terrifying rip in the seam of reality.

Neither Jane nor the Avenger could possibly be completely sure of what they saw. Loki, as much as he desperately wants to, harbors little doubt.

The man he held in a death-grip only minutes ago and who just now disappeared through a doorway conjured out of thin air was somehow … himself.

Another him. Just as the man had said.

After witnessing from afar the double kiss Jane, Loki, who was coming back from a swim, had been more than ready to skip past introductions and just sever the intruder’s head from his body.

But as soon as he had laid hands on him, a torrent of images had flooded his mind – chaotic, confused images that seemed to span past, present, future and beyond.

The shock had made him lessen his grip and the double had used his (his!) magic to throw him off.

With some distance between them and Stark suddenly there as well, Loki had tried to let his rage quell the dizzying realization. Unsuccessfully.

He is still shaking, clutching a dagger in each hand. He drew them instinctively as the other made for the door.

He should have caught him!

“Loki! What did he say?!”

“What?” His thoughts are racing in too many directions to hear her.

“The … man, what was he saying to you?!”

Jane is looking up at him with those beautiful brown eyes, worry and urgency all over her delicate features. Though not fear, Loki notes. His ever-brave wife. Both her hands are now clamped around his wrist.

That thing kissed her.

The daggers disappear and Loki wraps both arms around the mother of his unborn child, almost crushing her to his chest while still staring at the spot where the double vanished.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, love”, he murmurs. He suspects things are very much not okay.

So does Jane, of course.

“Loki, was it … oof, not so tight … “

She wriggles against him, and he remembers his amor. And her condition. He immediately relaxes his arms a bit while letting the leather and metal melt back into the clothes he wore before: Black jeans and a fitted, dusty green t-shirt (his “rockstar outfit”, Jane had called it, when Loki first started switching up his human wardrobe some years ago now). Drops of saltwater still cling to the ends of his slightly curly raven locks.

“Tony! Jane, Loki! What on Earth was that?”

Pepper jumps out of the car parked in front of the house and runs towards them. She must have seen everything as she drove down the road following her flying husband.

“The verdict’s still out, Peps”. Tony nods at Loki. “You wanna chip in here? I just called the boy-scout at headquarters and told him to be on guard for one of the magician’s interns playing a prank”.

Loki shakes his head slowly.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think Stephen had anything to do with this”.

“You’re right, I didn’t”.

All four of them turn around to see the sorcerer step out of a swirling ring of light, his cape billowing around him. The mahogany floor and paneled walls of his Manhattan mansion are briefly visible behind him before the portal closes with a hiss of little sparks.

Strange is wearing an even sterner expression than usual which only adds to Loki’s growing sense of dread.

Tony, however, groans loudly.

“Dude, really? Couldn’t you at least have let us have dinner before party crashing? Not shaming your bachelor lifestyle or anything, but this was couples’ night!”

“Tony!” Pepper hits her husband on the arm.

Strange ignores him.

“I’m afraid the arrival of your surprise visitor indicates that a set of … unfortunate events have been set in motion”.

As always, his voice is as even as if he was reading the weather forecast, but by now Loki has learned to differentiate the (very) subtle nuances between scorn and sincerity. Strange places his hands behind his back and regards them coolly. “I’ve had Wong reach out to Doctor Banner and director Fury. They should be here shortly. Stark, you may want to-”.

Tony narrows his eyes, lip twitching.

“Hey, Bleeker Street, you know I have low tolerance for you showing up and barking orders without giving two f**** for context. How did you even know that something was going down here? By all means, don’t keep us in suspense until the cavalry gets here”.

Strange doesn’t answer, but the way his eyes dart to Jane sends needles through Loki’s heart.

“Let’s go sit down, shall we?” With one eyebrow raised, Strange puts on a suave smile and gestures towards the house. The effect is a little startling.

Jane ducks out from under Loki’s arms. “Jane, don’t you want to-“. She brushes him off.

“Yes, good idea, Stephen. Let’s go sit down”. She motions for Strange to follow. “Welcome to our home. I was actually making drinks before, but I think I need to add a bit more kick to them…”

Her voice is oddly calm, and Loki fights the urge to grab her and magic them both far, far away, not caring that she would be furious with him for making decisions on her behalf.

He’s brought back to the present by an even odder sound as Strange actually chuckles.

Loki is not sure he’s ever heard it before. Then again, it’s not that he really knows Strange when it comes down to it. Like Tony, Loki finds the wizard exceedingly arrogant.

Pepper is the first to follow Jane and Strange across the lawn while Loki and Tony hang back.

“Real ladies’ man when he wants to. Who would have thought”. The billionaire superhero scoffs. His suit has folded itself off and into a briefcase next to his feet.

“Tony-“

“Uh oh. First name basis. So this really is an emergency”.

Loki faces his friend. Often in the past years, as they’ve grown steadily closer outside of “work”, he has secretly marveled at how long they’ve come since someone threw someone else off a building after being called a diva.

And attacking a city with an alien army.

Jane always insisted the two “hotheads” (her word) had a lot in common when not trying to murder one another (be it with weapons or sarcastic commentary), and Loki has to admit she was right. The metal man is fiercely intelligent, and Loki has been enjoying the quick-witted snark between them infinitely more than he ever valued the company of Thor’s band of gullible warrior groupies on Asgard.

“Well?”. Tony is regarding him with eyebrows raised, expectant. “Give me your take on this cause I’m starting to put together some rather outlandish theories myself here that I’m kinda hoping you’ll thwart ASAP”.

Loki draws in a deep breath.

“That thing with Banner at the tower two years ago-“

“Fuck!” Tony exhales, exasperated. “I knew you were gonna say that”. He squints into the distance towards the ocean, his mouth a tight line. It’s a rare day that Tony Stark is caught under a clear blue sky without sunglasses but for once he doesn’t seem to notice.

Loki takes a step closer to him and lowers his voice so they won’t alert the others just yet.

“I told you then and you didn’t want to listen! Everything about Bruce’s story was off. I know he didn’t remember much after Steve took him down, but you all pretty much accused me of trying to get back at him for, well, you know what, and I kept telling you I thought someone had gotten to him! Now-“

Loki searches for the words. It’s beyond absurd.

“That man was a version of me, Tony. I have no idea how, but I felt it. I saw into his mind. It was filled with images from my past and then … other, recent memories. Dark ones. He came from nowhere. Literally. It didn’t feel like a place. I tried to discard it as a trick, you saw that, but…” Loki runs his hand through his moist hair. “Stephen obviously felt something tear open too. And that is not a good sign”.

He has Tony’s full attention.

“Tear open? Could this other you be associated with your old boss? With Thanos?”

Loki winces.

“No, I don’t think he’s involved”, he says sharply. “But I can’t be sure …”

Tony catches his tone pats his shoulder. “Okay, okay. Shake it off. Didn’t mean to suggest anything. Let’s say he’s not. I’d much prefer that, at least until the wizard presents us with an even uglier imminent threat to the universe. Which, judging by the fact that he’s even here, willingly sipping cocktails in your kitchen as we speak, he probably will”.

Tony throws his hands up with a dramatic air.

“And here I thought the most challenging part of this weekend would be to convince you two to come see Hamilton with us in the city next week!”

“Who’s-“

“Never mind. Did you get a look at that gadget your guy was holding? Boy, he looked like an office slave who’d slept under his desk for a month before getting fired, didn’t he? Were you ever into accounting yourself by any chance?”

Loki shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Immediately he sees the image of the double kissing Jane, his arms wrapped firmly around her supple body. Rage rushes right back through him and his eyes snap open.

“Stark - I can’t. But yes, I did notice the device. It looked like a phone”.

“Yeah, somehow I don’t think it was the new iPhone”.

Tony shakes his head.

“The two of us and we didn’t take him down. Fury’s gonna have our badges”.

The director of SHIELD and Bruce Banner arrive barely 15 minutes later through a portal in the middle of the meadow-like lawn, following Wong and both looking grim and out of place as they weave around patches of wildflowers to reach the porch.

“Gentlemen, I trust you’re well”. Loki greets the trio with an only vaguely sarcastic nod as he holds open the screen doors to them, like a good host. Despite what some may still think, he can behave.

He could have just used magic of course, but he figures Banner is freaked enough as it is just by being here. The scientist hasn’t spoken more than five words to him since 2014 and at least three of them were expletives.

Once inside the small living room, Bruce goes to stand by the window and busies himself polishing his glasses with a little too much vigor than seems warranted.

He avoids Loki’s eyes but looks up and smiles wearily as Jane comes over to say hello.

Fury leans against the doorframe to the hallway and crosses his arms, face a closed book, and, by the sound of it, Tony is going through the cabinets in the kitchen trying to find something to spice up Jane’s pre-dinner cocktails.

Pepper is talking to Strange and Wong on the blue IKEA couch (assembled by magic after the attempt to go at it “as a team” turned into a shouting match), and Loki is about to politely ask Strange to please spit it out right this minute, when Jane is next to him, taking his hand.

“We need to talk. Now”.

Her voice is low and steady but her eyes insisting. She squeezes his fingers.

He squeezes back. “Come”.

Loki looks to Fury but he’s focused on Strange who’s listening very closely to something Wong’s saying.

Not letting go of Jane’s hand, he turns towards the kitchen. In the doorway they pass Tony who’s now holding what appears to be a glass of scotch. He must have given up on the gin and tonics.

“Hey, where are you two going? Forget about playing hosts okay, let’s just get started with part two of the evening’s entertainment”.

“In a minute”.

Jane pushes past him, ignoring Tony’s look and dragging Loki with her.

She closes the door behind them.

“Okay, so…” Jane looks around nervously in the small kitchen with the rustic white fronts and old brass handles. She loves that kitchen. They haven’t changed a thing since moving in. Loki reaches for her, but she takes a step back. “Jane, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have gotten there faster. Did he …“

“I need you tell me exactly what he said to you”.

She is absentmindedly opening and closing her fists in the way she does when that brilliant astrophysicist mind of hers is working out an intricate problem in the lab.

Or, Loki knows, when she’s about to deliver him bad news.

He clears his throat. “He said he was me. And that something big was happening”. There. “And then he said he was sorry”.

Jane studies his face.

“That he was sorry? For what?”

“He didn’t say. He stepped through the door”.

Jane is quiet and now it’s Loki’s turn to try and read her expression.

“What did he say to you? I assume he pretended to be me …?”

Jane holds up a hand and bites her lip. Loki swallows.

“Loki, when we were staying at the flat in London, after we defeated Malekith…”

“What?” Loki furrows his brow in confusion. “Why are we-“

“The poison from the monster’s blade, it had you slipping in and out of consciousness for days. You were so feverish…”

“Yes, I know. I was there”. Loki’s blood is slowly turning very cold, but he musters a smile. “And you were amazing, love. Although some might say you took adv-“

Jane interrupts him in the middle of his blossoming smirk. A slight blush appears on her own cheeks.

“Yes, um, it’s not about that day”. She gives him a stern look. “The other day, later, when Thor left after you two went and had your, um, talk … there’s something I need to tell you …”

The door to the living room opens behind them.

“Actually, if you don’t mind, Doctor Foster, I would very much like to hear this too”.

Stephen Strange steps into the kitchen. The door closes behind him.

Part 6

#loki #loki series #lokane #tva loki #loki fanfic #loki ff #lokane ff #lokane fanfic #loki x jane #jane foster #shine a light #plainlo inthemorning #doctor strange #stephen strange #tony stark

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star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 3 years

Text

Can’t wake up

It felt like you were floating. You were so sleepy, and you felt like you were floating. The white noise in your ears, was it the sound of waves lapping at the ocean shore? Because that would explain why you felt like you were floating. It was so peaceful and calm, being weightless and relaxed in your own personal sea of tranquility. You drew in a deep breath and sighed, allowing your worries and anxieties to wash away with the constant lapping of the tide.

Somewhere, on the shore maybe? You could hear a voice. Deep and clipped, a rumbling staccato buzz in the back of your head. Whoever he was was calling your name. The sound of the waves, the lull of the ocean - the pull was too great, and you couldn’t hear what he was saying. Just that his voice was strong and masculine.

The gentle tug of the waves was washing you out deeper into the ocean, but you didn’t fight it. You allowed yourself to float, buoyed by the water, eyes closed and relaxed.

“Come back to me!” The words cut clear through the static of the water, and you felt yourself jolt from floating to just laying. Had this man grabbed you? Was he trying to pull you back to shore? Were you in danger? From him? From the sea? The waves wrenched you from his hands, and again, you were floating. You considered listening for his words again, but the gentle rocking motion of the water lulled you back into relaxation and you could feel yourself drifting away from shore again.

“We’re losing her!” The man’s voice was starting to sound panicked, and again, you jolted into awareness, just for a moment. A shot of pain ripped through you as you felt him drawing you back to the shore. The waves dragged you back and you felt yourself flail and start to sink, just for a moment.

XxX

“We’re losing her!” Steve tore your tac suit open, baring your chest, and started chest compressions. “Get the medkit for me! I need the shears!”

Tony shoved the back toward him, and Natasha pulled it open, grabbing the shears from the top and handing them over quickly. While Steve sliced through your sports bra, Nat readied the defibrillator. Steve held a hand up to stop her from placing the pads, and continued the chest compressions and rescue breathing.

XxX

The floating sensation left you, and you felt yourself being dragged down by the undertow. You tried to paddle against the straining waves, but couldn’t so much as move your arms. You vaguely remembered your surf instructor telling you to swim with the current toward the edge of the riptide, and tried to manoeuvre yourself to where you thought the waves might be gentler, but you couldn’t. You broke through the waves, gasping, and finally fought against the drag until you were out of the rip and floating again. You rolled back onto your back, closed your eyes against the sun and floated.

XxX

You’d drawn in a deep ragged breath, and then fallen back unresponsive.

“Tony?” Steve asked. Tony dropped his visor and starred at you.

“She’s got a heart rate. It’s slow. BP is low. Oxygen sats are crap. We need to get out of here and get her back to the compound. Nat, get us up in the air,” he ordered. Steve pulled the oxygen tank off the wall of the quinjet and attached a mask before attaching it to your face.

“I can’t find anything wrong with her, Tony,” Steve sighed, throwing a blanket across your naked form. “I don’t suppose that suit has a CT in it?”

“No such luck, Cap,” Tony shook his head. “We’ll get her in the cradle, she’ll be fixed up just fine.”

Steve entwined his fingers in yours and leaned against the bulkhead of the quinjet. “I hope so.” XxX

You washed up on shore with the changing of the tides, and felt your skin prickle against the sun. Fighting the exhaustion you felt from your swim against the riptide, you sighed and stretched out on the sand. You yawned and opened your eyes as you rolled onto your side, and saw a beautiful woman sitting on a rock observing you. She was stark naked, but had drawn her legs up against her chest. The sun refracted off her skin, which was gleaming ultramarine, complementing the regal blue of her ultramarine hair.

“I didn’t think mermaids had legs?” You asked. The pitch of her laugh felt unnatural.

“You tell me, I’m only here because you summoned me,” she replied. You propped yourself up on an elbow and looked at her, and then around the beach.

“Am I dead?” You asked.

“No.”

“What’s wrong with me then? Why am I here?” You asked.

“Your brain is protecting you.”

“From what?” You demanded.

“From feeling the pain.” She was nearly expressionless as you spoke, and refused to offer more information.

“What pain?” You were getting frustrated.

“Intercranial hemorrhage.” Her voice was soothing at least. “Now rest. Or you’ll never wake. Stop fighting and rest.”

“If this is a dream, I won’t get a sunburn?”

She laughed again. “No. You’re quite safe from that.” She rose and stepped back to the water’s edge. “Rest.” She dove into the shallows and when she resurfaced, you saw her tail breach and slap the water in acknowledgement.

You took her advice and laid back down, closing your eyes against the sun, and allowing your body to rest.

XxX

Steve sat beside the cradle, partially stripped out of his suit, just watching you. Nat came over with a glass of water and nudged him.

“Go have a shower, get some food,” she recommended. Steve shook his head.

“What if she wakes up?”

“I’ll be here. She’ll know I love her more,” Natasha teased. Steve scowled. “Steve, you won’t do her any good stinky and hangry. Go get washed up. There’s a chicken rice bowl in the kitchen with your name on it. I’ve got this.”

Steve sighed and pushed himself to his feet, leaving the quiet of the infirmary. Natasha looked down on you and flopped in the seat Steve had vacated.

“As much as I want you to wake up, you should probably save it for when he gets back,” she said to you. “But don’t even think about dying on us.”

XxX

“I want you to wake up.” The feminine voice broke through the wash of the waves, and seabird song. You groaned and opened one eye, thinking the mermaid had returned. There was no one around. You sat up, and took in your surroundings again. The island was beautiful, from what you could see. And your subconscious was ensuring all your needs were met. A small, but sheer rock face a short way down the beach was home to a waterfall that you could only assume was fresh water. There were coconut trees at the edge of the beach, and a few short bushes that looked to be pineapples. You could be quite happy here, you thought. “Baby, you’ve got to come back to me.” The same male voice from before echoed in your head. It was so loud this time that it made you dizzy, and you stumbled toward the shade. You might not get sunburn, but your brain felt scrambled from the heat. XxX

“Baby, you’ve got to come back to me,” Steve kissed your knuckles. “It’s been three days. Doctor Cho says all your scans have returned to normal. You’re okay. Wake up. Please.”

XxX

“Please.” It was a single word, but it held more passion and pain than you could ever remember hearing. You looked around the beach. The voices came in waves every so often, but usually quiet, just breaking through the gentle but persistent noise of the ocean waves lapping against the shore. If only you knew where the voices were coming from.

Since you’d washed up on the island, you’d searched the entire thing, looking for the ghost voices. They all seemed familiar, but you couldn’t place them. You flopped down against the soft branches you’d turned into a makeshift mattress and allowed your mind to wander, trying to place the male voice you kept hearing as you watched the clouds drift across the sky.

XxX

“Any change?” Tony leaned into the infirmary, holding a bag of dried fruit. Steve looked haggard. Tony couldn’t guess when the man had last slept, but he looked like he might not have shaved in at least a week. Natasha had stopped nagging Steve about hygiene when he’d told her to fuck off earlier in the week.

“Nothing.” Steve’s voice was devoid of emotion.

According to Dr. Cho, there was nothing wrong with you, but the vegetative state was persistent. Steve was grieving you, despite your textbook vital signs. He hung his head in his hands and his shoulders started to shake.

“Whoa there, Steve, Dr. Cho says she’s going to be fine. Let her brain rest. There must be more to it than the cradle can see. Tony rushed forward, not even thinking, and rubbed his hand on Steve’s back. Steve leaned into his friend and wept.

“What if this is it? What if this is all I get? Just a few months with her and now she’s gone?” Steve asked, his voice overwrought with sorrow. Tony patted Steve’s back awkwardly.

“This isn’t it,” Tony promised. “You need some rest, and a shower. And maybe a shave, although I have to say the beard is fetching. I’ll sit with her. If you come back in less than six hours, I’ll smother her myself.”

Steve glared at Tony, but pushed to his feet. “You wouldn’t dare. I’m only going because I owe Nat an apology.”

XxX

The male voice was different, and his chatter was non-stop. You wanted to find him and tell him to stick a cork in it, but as usual, there was no one on the island but you. Yet another fruitless search for the voices that haunted your island made you realize how lonely you were. Had you always been here? How had you gotten here? You remembered floating in the ocean, but where had you been before that? You sat down and struggled to remember. As you stared out at the water, you idly doodled in the sand with a small twig. The nattering man finally stopped speaking and you sighed in relief. You pushed yourself back on your feet and rose, looking down at the series of circles with the star in the centre. It had to mean something, it was the only thing you ever seemed to draw when you were thinking about things.

XxX

“Tony says the beard looks good. I never would have worn a beard before, but I kind of like it. It’s not fancy like his either. It’s just a beard.” Steve smoothed down the hair on his face and took a sip from his coffee. He picked up your hand and placed it against the hairs on his cheek, smoothing your hand down the scruff. Your fingers reflexively curled into the hair and you let out a soft sigh.

Steve leaned forward, “Come back to me. Please.”

XxX

“Please.” The anguish in the voice tore through your heart and you sat up. Had it never been nighttime since you got here?

“Please.” Your ears started to ring and your vision blurred. The ocean was placid, calm. It had never been so calm.

“Please, baby.” Memories rushed through you and you looked around at the island, no longer beautiful and friendly, but instead looking depleted and dangerous.

“Steve?”

-----------------------

@rampant-salamander @bolontiku @bkwrm523

#whump of july 2021

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wizardofrozz · 3 years

Text

Welcome to Westview!

Warnings: swearing, slight implied smut (barely), mention of past violence

A/N: This chapter is a little longer but I couldn’t find a spot to break it up that I liked lol. Taglist is open 😊

Chapter 5

Bucky POV

Steve, Clint, Loki, and I hurried up the steps of the library, hoping to find Vision before the meeting started. The four of us stumbled into the main room, seeing a table of men talking softly; I spotted Vision’s light hair first.

“There he is,” I whispered, jabbing an elbow at Loki, who stood next to me.

“Hey, Vis,” Loki called, starting towards our friend.

“Hey, guys!” Vision called, waving us over.

“Who are these guys?” a man next to Vision with a mustache asked.

“Oh, these are a few of my buddies. This is Loki Laufeyson” -Vision rested a hand on Loki’s shoulder as he sat next to him- “then Bucky Barnes.” I took a seat on Loki’s other side, waving when Vision brought attention to me. “Steve Rogers.” Vision pointed to Steve, who took the chair at the other head of the table opposite the man with the mustache. Steve smiled softly, waving as his eyes flicked around the table. “And Clint Barton.” Vision pointed to Clint, who sat across from me.

“Heya, gentlemen,” Clint greeted, leaning back in his chair, spreading his legs, getting comfortable. The other men around the table mumbled ‘hellos’ or waved at us, still visibly uneasy.

“So, new business?” Vision spoke up.

“New business actually means another round of Danishes,” the man named Norm said. I sighed, quickly realizing these guys were just as bad as the woman. Loki passed me the box after pulling a treat out for himself, smirking at me.

“Gossip club, anyone?” Loki mumbled. I snorted, holding back my laughter as I picked up a raspberry Danish for myself, and Steve then passing the box to Clint.

“I thought we’d be talking about neighborhood safety, not a kid’s treehouse,” I chuckled. Loki dropped his head, covering his mouth as he chewed, hiding his smile.

“Anyone else get the wrong idea?” Steve asked, leaning forward.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Clint snorted, taking a bite of his pastry. A fit of laughter from the other end of the table caught our attention; the four of us turned our heads, trying to catch up on the conversation.

“Hey, care for a stick o' Big Red?” the guy I recognized as Wanda and Vision’s neighbor Herb said.

“Well, hold on there a second. Didn't you hear the man? He doesn't eat food,” Norm cut in, stopping Vision’s hand short.

“Is gum food?” the man with the mustache asked.

“Well, my understanding is that it's purely for mastication,” Vision stated matter-of-factly.

“Oh boy,” Loki whispered, hiding his smile. Steve looked at his lap, a small smile on his lips, and Clint threw his head back, covering his mouth; I elbowed Loki and kicked Steve’s leg, glaring at Clint.

“No, I don't do that,” Herb shot back, visibly uncomfortable.

“Ah, well, when in Westview…Cheers,” Vision took the gun, putting it in his mouth.

“Stop him!” I hissed at Loki, but it was too late.

“This could be a problem,” Loki mumbled, his eyes glued to Vision.

“Who knew you were such a funny guy?” I heard Norm chuckle in the background.

“It’s gum; what’s the problem?” Clint whispered, leaning over the table.

“And to think you came here all hot and bothered about protocols and nonsense. We actually thought you were serious!” Herb laughed, clapping a hand on Vision’s back. Loki tensed next to me when he heard the audible noise of Vision swallowing.

“That’s the problem!” Steve hissed, falling heavily back into his chair.

“So what? He swallowed it, big deal,” Clint said, tilting his head, still not understanding.

“He’s a machine”-Steve leaned over to whisper to Clint- “he has gears, not a stomach.” It took Clint a few seconds, then his eyes widened, his panicked gaze flicking to Vision.

“Shit,” Clint mumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“You okay, Vis?” Loki asked, leaning closer. Vision’s brows pulled together, bringing a hand to rest on his chest as he blinked a few times. “Vis?” Loki tried again.

“I…*hiccup*…think so,” Vision croaked.

“This isn’t good,” Steve mumbled, the panic in his voice sending his voice up a few octaves.

“Hey” -I grabbed his forearm with my left hand - “he’ll be fine.” Steve sighed, nodding after a few seconds before his shoulders started to relax. I smiled at him, squeezing his arm; the soft whining noise of my arm filled the room, and I watched the lights in the library make the dark metal of my hand twinkle.

“What the…” I gasped, ripping my hand away from Steve. My hand started to shake as I inspected the metal plates slotting together on my fingers and my palm. My heart rate jumped, beating against my ribs as panic set in and the once soft whining in my arm became deafening. I screwed my eyes shut, trying to catch my breath; I slowly opened my eyes, finding the slightly lighter skin of my palm facing me. I blanched, opening and closing my flesh fist that was metal only a few seconds ago. I glanced up and Clint was staring wide-eyed at me, but he quickly turned to listen to what Steve was saying.

“What’s wrong?” Loki mumbled, elbowing my arm lightly. Steve looked away from Clint when Loki spoke, his gaze boring into the side of my head.

“Does my arm look funny?” I croaked, glancing at Loki.

“No?” Loki said, his brows pulling together in confusion. “Are you okay, Bucky?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” I stammered, inspecting my hand again.

“Okay?” Loki mumbled, flicking his gaze to Steve.

“Well, I think that’s all we have time for today, gentlemen,” Herb’s voice cut in, stopping my internal meltdown.

“We’ll catch you guys at the talent show later,” Norm said with a smile, pushing away from his chair. I set my hand on the table, wondering why I was staring at it so intensely before smiling at the men at the other end of the table.

“See ya later, guys,” I said, nodding once. “Help me carry Vision,” I mumbled, leaning closer to Loki.

“On it,” Loki whispered. “Hey Vis, we have to get you ready for the talent show.”

“Talent show?” Vis giggled, stumbling as he stood. “What talent do I have?”

“You and Wanda are doing a magic show,” I assured in a soft voice, firmly gripping the back of his arm. Loki did the same on the other side, helping me lead Vision towards the door. Steve and Clint brought up the rear, glancing around to make sure no one was shooting us odd looks.

“Magic!” Vision exclaimed, giggling again, stumbling through the door.

“Shoo, don’t yell,” Loki warned softly.

“But no one” -Vision wretches like he might throw up- “can know *hiccup* about Wanda!”

“You’re going to pretend,” Loki reminds him, patting his hand.

“This is going to be a mess,” I sighed, dropping my head forward.

“You can say that again,” Clint grunts from behind me.

***

“Come on, Vis. Wanda is waiting for you,” I grunted, dragging Vision along. Vision swatted my hand away, stumbling forward to start up the steps. Loki’s head dropped back, his eyes closing as he pulled in a deep breath.

“(Y/N) and Nat are going to kill all of us if he messes this up for Wanda,” Loki groaned, running a hand through his short hair.

“Don’t remind me,” I grumbled, rubbing my temples. Seeing Wanda glaring at us from behind the stage, I winced, mouthing ‘I’m sorry’ before dragging Loki towards the crowd. I pushed Loki towards his seat across from (Y/N), plopping into the chair behind Loki across from Steve. Clint and Nat’s table was in front of us; Clint turned around, raising an eyebrow at Loki and me.

“I take it by the look on your face that Vision isn’t any better,” Steve whispered.

“No, and Wanda was not happy,” I sighed, bracing my elbows on the table. I lifted my head to talk again, but Dottie hurried onto the stage, drawing everyone’s attention.

“I want to thank you all for coming out to support Westview Elementary. For the children.” Dottie smiled, waiting for the crowd to respond.

“For the children,” the audience chorused. I shot a look at Steve, raising my eyebrow but caught the same fearful look on Steve’s face. I glanced over my shoulder, seeing (Y/N) fidget in her seat, and peek at Nat, who was picking at the tablecloth.

“What the hell?” Loki whispered over his shoulder to me.

“I second that,” Clint mumbles, leaning back in his chair.

“We were about to ask you two the same thing,” Steve added. Dottie drew our attention back to the stage, but I couldn’t ignore the somersaults my stomach was doing.

“And for our final act... I give you, Wanda and Vision.” I sucked in a deep breath, noticing Loki, Steve, and Clint doing the same thing as Wanda walked on stage.

“What’s wrong?” I faintly heard (Y/N) ask Loki.

“I’m going to say this: it was not our fault,” Loki whispers back. I anxiously waited for Vision to walk out, but nothing happened for a few seconds, and Wanda was looking tenser; suddenly, Vision threw the curtains open.

“Oh! Yeah! I've got to go! Hello, Westview! Good afternoon. It's so lovely to be…” -Vision knocked his hip into the railing of the steps- “I'm so sorry. Excuse me. I am Glamour, and this is my delightful assistant, Illusion.” Vision’s words slurred together as he swayed in place, lazily gesturing to Wanda.

“I am Glamour, and he's Illusion,” Wanda corrected, exaggerating her voice, playing the part.

“Yeah, what she said. Today, we will lie to you, and yet you will believe our little deceptions because human beings are easily fooled due to their limited understanding of the inner workings of the universe.” Vision shrugged, flopping his hands to the side in front of him. “Flourish!” Vision pulled one hand pack, facing his other palm towards the crowd like he was shooting something from his palm. I dropped my head onto the table with a dense thud, resisting the urge to do it again.

“We’re dead,” Loki stated.

“Yep,” I mumbled.

“It was nice knowing you,” Steve huffed.

“You just do it; you don't say it out loud, honey,” my enhanced hearing picked up on Wanda’s whisper and Vision’s scoff.

“And now my wife and I will delight you in your dumbstruck little faces. Flourish!” Vision bellowed. I lifted my head just in time to see Vision starting to fly, a pleased, drunk-looking smile on his face. The audience around us began to gasp except for the six of us; Loki, (Y/N), Clint, Nat, Steve, and I all tensed, staring wide-eyed at the stage.

“We need to help her!” (Y/N) harshly whispered to Loki, starting to stand.

“Wait,” Loki shot back. Suddenly a pulley system appear, connected to the back of Vision pants; I let out the air I was holding in as I watched Vision now dangling in midair.

“Ha! See there? He's using a rope,” Norm shouted from somewhere in the audience. Wanda giggled, moving the sign from in front of the pulley; she started to move the crank, smiling brightly.

“Wanda, what's... Oh, no! Oh! No! Wanda, please! Darling, let me down!” Vision shouted, flailing. “I’m feeling pukey!” I couldn’t help but laugh along with the crowd, momentarily forgetting the issue. “Ooh!” Wanda finally let Vision down, who stumbled a little, trying to regain the little composure he had.

“Maybe this won’t be too bad,” I chuckled.

“Uh, what's next? Oh! Yeah, this is... This is gonna be great!” Vision got excited, hurrying towards the piano, a goofy smile spreading across his face. “A staggering feat of strength!” I nearly choked on my spit when Vision lifted the piano, making noises to encourage the audience as he smiled, proud of himself.

“Illusion... Uh... Uh... Illusion, Master of Enigma, allow me,” Wanda called, hurrying towards her husband. My eyes widened, and I heard Steve gasp when Wanda took the piano from Vision; Wanda turned to the side, showing the audience that it was only board, giggling and winking at the crowd.

“Whoops! You weren't supposed to see how we did that trick,” Wanda joked, wiggling her hips. I felt something bounce off the back of my head; I turned around to see (Y/N) glaring at me.

“You are so lucky our friend can think on her feet!” she scolded, continuing to glare at me. I dipped my head to hide the embarrassment blooming on my face; Loki, Clint, and Steve all sported a similar expression. I tensed again when Vision hopped off the stage before Wanda could turn around again, making a beeline for Herb.

“Oh, Sherbert! Yeah, this is my old mate, Sherbert. Stand up, Sherbert,” Vision bellowed, hurrying to where Herb stood, confused. “Say hello to the crowd!”

“It's Herbert, er- Herb,” he corrected, eyeing Vision suspiciously.

“Dear God,” Loki mumbled, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Pipe down, Sherbie, and pick a card. Any card. Yeah, put it back in the deck. I'm not looking,” Vision urged, holding the deck of cards out. Herb pulled a card out, looks at it then placing it back in the deck so that Vision could shuffle them. “All right. Watch this,” Vision quipped, smiling. Vision pulled a card, showing it to Herb with a pleased look on his face. “Is this your card?”

“Uh, no,” Herb mumbled.

“I beg to differ,” Vision slurred. Herb shook his head ‘no’ only making Vision irritated. Vision started pulling cards out, asking if it was Herb’s card, and none of them were; panic shot through me when Vision’s hand started moving faster, too fast for human eyes to keep up with. Vision made it to the last card, holding it out to Herb, clearly annoyed. “Is this your card?”

“Oh, it is!” Herb exclaims with a smile.

“Can’t get much worse, right?” Loki whispers, leaning his chair on two legs to get closer to me.

“Please don’t say that I’m begging you,” I groaned.

“They’re almost done, Buck. It can’t get much worse,” Steve tried to reassure me. I looked back at the stage to see Vision stumbling onto the stage.

“And now, for my next trick...” Vision reached up for his hat that was sitting turned over on the stage, missing the rabbit inside.

“Oh goodness me,” Wanda mumbled, watching her husband.

“Who stole my hat? Oh! Oh, stop that rabbit! I gotta pull a hat out of it!” Vision starts for the rabbit, but Wanda had beat him to it, holding the animal to her chest.

“Maybe we leave the poor bunny out of this one, shall we?” Wanda pleaded. Vision seemed to agree before his face lit up, and he bent down to pick up his hat.

“Well then, I will just have to pull this hat... out of myself,” Vision giggled, holding the hat in front of his stomach.

“Damnit, Loki,” I growled, bracing my elbows on my knees, cradling my head in my hands.

“In my defense, I didn’t see that coming,” Loki mumbled back. The audience gasped around us as Vision phased the hat through his body, yelling in triumph after doing it.

“How many more tricks do they have left?” Clint called over his shoulder.

“One,” (Y/N) ground out, her jaw clenched.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, for our grand finale, I bring you, The Magnet of Crysteries!” Vision yelled, throwing his arms out.

“The Cabinet of Mysteries!” Wanda corrected, gesturing to the box that rolled onto the stage.

“Yeah, yeah. What she said. I will now make my wife... disappear.” Vision opened the doors to the cabinet, showing the crowd that it was empty but closed them before Wanda could get in; I watched her head drop slightly, sighing.

“Are you sure you don't want an audience volunteer named ‘My husband Ralph?’” Agnes called from the crowd. I shot a dirty look her way, glaring at the back of her head, noticing the rest of my friends shooting her similar looks; Wanda must have seen because she covered a laugh, turning her face away.

“No. Abracadabra!” Vision laughed, hitting a magic wand into the door, reminding me of a child.

“Uh, sweetheart?” Wanda chuckled.

“Yeah?”

“Hi…”

“Oh,” Vision mumbled, looking back at the cabinet where Wanda was supposed to be. After a few seconds, people in the crowd started yelling, ‘what’s in the box?’ and I could visibly see the irritation on Wanda’s face. “Yeah, what’s in the box?” Vision asked Wanda, his face scrunching in confusion. Wanda took a deep breath, and they open the door to reveal another woman I didn’t remember meeting.

“Geraldine?” I heard Nat mumble, raising an eyebrow. Wanda, Vision, and the woman Geraldine bowed as the crowd cheered and clapped for them.

“Let’s get outta here!” Vision yells, running off the stage. Wanda closed her eyes momentarily, and then her gaze landed in our general direction when they opened again, glaring before hurrying after Vision.

“Up. Now,” (Y/N) growled, her gaze moving between Clint, Loki, Steve, and me. Nat stood next to her, her arms crossed over her chest as she took turns glaring at each of us. All four of us flinch before standing; our heads bowed as we followed the girls backstage. The six of us made it to the bottom of the steps in time to hear Vision talking.

“Ah, I'm not as funny without it, am I?” he grumbled, sounding disappointed.

“Not really,” Clint snorted, earning a smack on the back of the head from Nat. Clint yelped and quickly moving to rub the back of his head.

�� “Wanda,” (Y/N) called, hurrying up the steps with Nat on her tail. “We’re so sorry. The boys are idiots.”

“It’s okay,” Wanda sighed. “They couldn’t have known, but Vision should’ve known better.” Wanda shot Vision a look, and he dipped his head, trying to avoid the wrath of his wife. “Don’t blame them,” Wanda assured them, pulling them into a hug.

“Let’s get out of here before anyone says anything,” (Y/N) urged, shooing Vision towards the four of us. The eight of us clustered together, hurrying down the sideway, trying to avoid anyone catching us.

“You two, stop right there,” Dottie called from the stage, pointing at Wanda and Vision.

“Go!” Wanda whispered, shooing the rest of us. (Y/N) grabbed mine and Loki’s hands while Nat grabbed Steve and Clint, dragging us across the street, back towards our homes. The walk was eerily silent; Nat and (Y/N) dropped the hands they had and were walking with their arms linked. Steve, Loki, Clint, and I exchanged worried glances periodically, waiting for the explosion.

“You boys are lucky,” (Y/N) called over her shoulder. I searched her face for any trace of anger or irritation, and surprisingly I didn’t find any.

“It didn’t turn out that bad,” I tried, bracing for anything.

“It was quite funny,” Nat pointed out, looking at (Y/N).

“Okay, are we in trouble?” Loki asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, Wanda’s not mad, so you boys got lucky,” Nat giggled.

“But you four need to pay more attention to your friend!” (Y/N) scolded, looking over her shoulder at the four of us. “He’s a machine; he doesn’t really know how to be human,” she whispered. The girls stop in front of the Barton house, turning to face us; the four of us shuffled in place, each mumbling an apology.

“Come on, birdie,” Nat giggled, reaching a hand for Clint. Clint rolled his eyes, shaking his head but clapped a hand on Loki and Steve’s shoulders and smacked my back before grabbing her outstretched hand.

“Later, boys,” Clint called, saluting us as Nat pulling him towards the house. When Nat and Clint disappeared, Steve, Loki, (Y/N), and I walked across the street, stopping between our homes.

“Let’s go home, trickster,” (Y/N) sighed, snaking an arm around his waist.

“See you tomorrow, boys,” Loki said with a slight nod. Steve and I waved before heading for our door; I gestured Steve through and closed the door behind me, slumping against it.

“That was a train wreck,” I sighed, scrubbing at my face.

“That’s an understatement,” Steve groaned, throwing his upper body over the back of the couch. “Thank god it’s over now.” I pushed off the door, my eyes raking over the curve of his behind as I walked towards him; I positioned my pelvis behind him, leaning into him.

“James,” his warning muffled by the couch cushions.

“Mm, you’re not helping,” I growled, resting my hands on his hips. Steve pushed himself up again, so his back was flush with my chest. “This is your fault,” I chuckled darkly into the shell of his ear.

“No, you’re just insatiable,” Steve snorted, relaxing into me. My eyes slid shut as I started to sway, wrapping my arms around his waist, moving Steve with me, humming against his throat as we moved together.

“You got me there,” I mumbled against his skin. We swayed to nonexistent music for a couple of minutes until I started to get greedy, pulling him tighter against me. Steve huffed out a laugh, spinning in my arms despite my protest.

“I need a shower; care to join?” Steve whispered, cupping my face so I would meet his eyes. I kept my eyes closed for a few seconds before groaning again, slowly opening them; I jumped back, bile burning at the back of my throat when I saw Steve’s face again. Steve wore an unfamiliar uniform with a large star on the chest, and his left eye was swollen almost shut, and there was a small cut below that eye which was bleeding. Another cut started at the corner of his mouth on the right side, his lip was busted, and a nasty cut curved over the top of his right eyebrow. ( x ) My chest constricted, making it harder to pull air into my lungs as my eyes flickered over his face; a crippling wave of panic and guilt tore through me. I choke on a sob as I stumbled into the wall next to the steps, tears clouding my vision. “Bucky?” Steve begging, stepping closer.

“No!” I cried, trying to move away from him. Somehow I knew this was my fault, I did this, I hurt Steve, but I had no idea what happened or what I did to him. I sobbed loudly again, sliding down the wall, covering my face with my hands; my body shook as I tried to make sense of the situation. I flinched when I felt Steve’s hand on my wrists.

“Bucky, please!” Steve begged, pulling on my hands. He managed to pull my hands away, and when I opened my tear-filled eyes to look at Steve, I blanched; Steve looked fine again, his skin was smooth with no dried blood, and he was wearing his dark sweater. I grabbed the sides of my head, crying out when a sharp pain exploded through my head; I cowered against the wall as the pain pulsed through my brain. “Bucky,” Steve cried, sounding desperate. As quickly as the pain started, it stopped, leaving me shaken; I tentatively looked up at Steve again, cringing at the tear stains on his cheeks.

“Steve,” I croaked.

“What just happened?” Steve blurted, cupping my face.

“I-I don’t know,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I’m scared, Steve.” Tears pooled in my eyes again, and I buried my face into Steve’s chest. We sat on the floor, clutching each other until I could talk again and try to explain everything to Steve, but the memory quickly faded.

Chapter 6 | Series Masterlist

Taglist:

@marvelfansworld @imagine-yourself-happy @lovelokiqueen @neenieweenie @shadowolf993 @alluringshawn @somegeekychic

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avengershumanresources · 3 years

Text

blood 4 - Strange/Stark!Reader

Relationship: Dr. Strange/Princess!Stark!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Adult Themes, eventual smut, adult language, implied sexual violence, general violence

Synopsis: Reader is the daughter of the legendary King Anthony Stark, Uniter of Lands, The Iron Defender, and leader of the realm. When the king disappears during battle, hope is lost and he is presumed dead.

When the late king’s uncle, Obadiah, takes the throne until your brother Peter is of age, he quickly arranges a marriage for you with a wicked king in a neighboring kingdom.

With the realms politics in question, and rumors of an upcoming siege to overthrow Peter’s rule before it starts, you quickly learn who is loyal to the crown and who is not.

part 3 - part 5

Masterlist

Chapter Playlist

4 - a reign

It was the middle of the night by the time Stephen returned to the observatory. He’d only meant to stop for a few minutes to grab a book Wong had asked for, before retreating to his quarters for some much needed sleep.

That was, until he saw you sleeping soundly, sprawled over the cot he kept in the corner for those late nights he spent tinkering with spells and potions. A book on the mystic properties of herbs was open on your chest, lifting and falling with each gentle breath you took.

By Vishanti, you looked so peaceful, a far cry from how you’d held yourself since the funeral. His chest gave a throb when you shifted slightly, snuggling deeper into the pillow under your head, a small shiver that made him wish more than anything to crawl in next to you and cradle your form in his arms.

It was almost unbearable sometimes.

He had his vows and duties, his status as a council to the king, your tutor, and a protector of the castle, while you were the eldest princess of this important kingdom.

Though he’d been born of decent lineage, there wasn’t a world where he could feasibly see a long term future by your side.

Instead, he settled on what he could have for now. Stephen would cherish these moments until some prince (probably Loki, as much as the thought disgusted him), whisked you out of his reach.

“You’re thinking too loudly,” you voiced, opening your eyes and shifting the book off of your chest with a sleepy blink.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he explained, lifting the book he’d come for off a nearby table. “Wong needed a reference for shields at the border.”

You stretched your shoulders, slowly rising and sitting at the edge of the cot. You were still wearing your gown from dinner, suggesting you’d been reading there for quite some time.

“How was the council meeting?” you asked.

He made a noise of disgust, crossing his arms and dropping into a nearby seat by the fire.

“Dreadful,” he confided in her. “I’m not sure where I can draw the line at my ethics as a sorcerer and stating clearly that this man is a maniac.”

Your expression darkened at his words.

“What is he proposing?”

“He wants to invite Rumlow to the castle to discuss a peace treaty during the coronation celebrations,” he explained, pinching the bridge of his noise. “No matter how many times Steve, Wong, and myself went over why that was a dangerous and reckless idea, he would remind us who is king. I thought perhaps he’d be more amendable to reason, but I was wrong.”

Listening intently, you looked down at your lap. Something else was on your mind and Stephen was afraid his words had confirmed some unspoken fear within you.

“Peter was right not to trust him then,” you stated with a glance up at him. “Why would he bring that monster within these walls? To stand him where our father once stood?”

That was the question Stephen kept asking himself while the other councilors and the king argued around in circles. What benefit did Obadiah get from such a conversation with King Brock? Perhaps it would yield some answers, but not any they couldn’t get from a more secluded, neutral location.

“Was a final decision made?” you pressed when he fell silent.

“Not yet,” he heard you let out a breath of relief. “We’re adjourned until tomorrow afternoon.”

“The ball is tomorrow night,” you jumped on the same point he’d made when Obadiah had dismissed the councilors.

“Rumlow has a new Master Sorcerer at his castle,” Stephen grunted. “A lot of changes for a kingdom that pleaded innocence during our first inquiry into your father’s death.”

“What happened to Mordo?”

“No one knows,” Stephen sighed. It was the very reason he’d returned to Kamar-Taj. After news of Master Mordo’s replacement with the Enchantress from Asgard, rumors had circulated and a number of masters had approached him confessing they were nervous about what that meant.

It wasn’t unusual to change Masters within a castle. Your father had done it enough after quite a few had resigned or been scared off by your ferocity before he’d arrived.

The problem was that the Enchantress had a reputation of her own, having been exiled of her homeland and banished from Kamar-Taj for abusing dark magic. Appointing her to such an important and influential role within a kingdom was beyond concerning, it was downright dangerous.

It would be impossible to tell where Rumlow’s own ideas converged with Amora’s mystic control. He knew Mordo, while flawed, still had the good sense to provide sound council. From the beginning, Stephen had a feeling that the sorcerer hadn’t been involved in the invasion and attack on the kingdom that killed your father.

“Now what?” you queried softly.

“We stand on the defensive,” he admitted, taking your hand when he saw it shaking in your lap. Running a thumb over your palm, he met your gaze. You still looked uneasy and he didn’t blame you. This wasn’t a usual transition of power and he feared more deception was hidden under the layers. “This kingdom is resilient, and Peter is strong. Whatever arises, I’m more than confident we can stand against it.”

You pursed your lips, probably about to argue against him, but a quick sweep of his face and you let the issue die. He must have looked terrible to silence you so abruptly.

“I should probably get back to my quarters,” you reasoned with a murmur, letting him guide you to your feet, hands still connected. The two of you stood silently, his hand wrapped around yours, waiting for the other to make the first move.

And Gods if he wasn’t so exhausted, he would have stood there an eternity.

“I can-,” he cleared his throat, withdrawing his hand and drew up a portal to your room. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you flex the hand he’d touched before you stepped through, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Sweetest dreams, Stephen,” you hummed with a small wave goodbye.

“You too, princess.”

The portal closed and he froze, his heart beating ferociously against his sternum.

In another life, you could have been his.

Hell, if your father had returned from battle, there could have been a tiny flicker of hope.

Tony had trusted him after all, requested him to the castle personally after you’d scared off the previous few Masters.

There could have been a chance.

Now? Peter would eventually need to marry you off to secure the future of the kingdom. It was your duty after all, your birth obligation as a female royal.

You’d carry some other man’s child and, maybe, he would see you from a distance at a ball or royal visit.

And Stephen would live the rest of his days in solitude.

His heart aching for the princess just at his fingertips but never allowed to touch.

(—)

Natalia Romanov reasoned herself a fair woman. Sure, she killed for money and ran illicit goods across borders, but she considered herself just and never acted with true malice against the innocent.

She had a personal set of rules that she held above any amount of gold, and those rules included keeping your name off of her or anyone else’s list of targets.

Since the two of you had been young girls, only a little older than Princess Morgan now, you’d proven time and again that you were not only a trusted ally, but a dear friend.

From the first time you caught her trying to steal some apples from the kitchens, you’d ensured her safety until she had been old enough to take care of herself. Even then, you were always more than happy to share your coin, a meal, or a jug of wine with the infamous assassin.

So, when a threat on your life had been attempted, Natalia had taken that personally.

The lead from the cook at the pub had been more than enough for her and James to work off of. Within a day they were on the mystery assailant’s trail and by nightfall on the second day, they’d traced him to an inn at the border of your kingdom and Asgard.

She’d detailed the plan carefully with James earlier in the day. Wait for him to settle into his room for the night, bribe the innkeeper, and steal him away before anyone was the wiser. She had a cottage a few miles into the woods where they could interrogate him and dispose of a body, if needed.

It was a nearly perfect plan, and Natalia was quite proud of it, until certain unpredictable circumstances had stepped in their way.

Those circumstances being the younger Asgardian prince, Loki.

“I thought they’d closed the border,” James had grumbled, hood pulled over his face while they surveyed the inn from the street. “What is he doing here?”

“Maybe he fancied a drink?” Natalia joked dryly, watching the dark haired prince try to blend in with the crowd. To the untrained eye, he did quite well, slipping between the villagers as they fussed about, readying themselves for the evening.

Natalia and James, however, spotted him almost immediately.

“I’ve never been fond of ale,” a voice noted casually over their shoulders.

James instinctively threw a protective arm over Natalia, a knife spinning up from his fingers menacingly. As if that would be a threat against someone as powerful as the prince.

“I come as a friend,” Loki held up his hands, amusement at their reaction clear on his face. “Though I have to say, the more friends of the princess I meet, the better insight I’ve gained. Did you know she befriended a bard two towns over? How she does that will always be a mystery to me.”

“Scott?” James quirked a brow. “He’s great.”

“Quite the entertainer,” Loki agreed with a nod. “Shall we retreat to somewhere more private?”

Natalia bobbed her chin toward the inn, and the men followed in suit, taking a seat in the back of the pub inside. She made a point of positioning herself in such a manner that she had full sight of the entrance and exit, ready to intercept the cook if need be.

“This man you’re after, what do you know of him?” Loki asked, waving a hand and muffling the sounds of the crowd around them. Natalia was sure it was some kind of sound cloaking spell to the surrounding patrons.

“How do you know we are after him?” Natalia challenged.

“I’ve been following you over the last few days,” he admitted casually. “When I heard of the attack on the princess and saw the sorcerer at the pub, I put two and two together. It wasn’t particularly difficult.”

“You’re supposed to be in Asgard,” James pointed out. “They’ve sealed the borders. It’s been hell trying to move anything around.”

“I am-,” his eyes glowing green. “In a way. The incident with the king was far too intriguing to ignore. Not to mention, there’s now this situation you two have stumbled your way into.”

“We don’t stumble into anything,” James countered sharply, leaning on the table with a glare.

“You stumbled into the princess’ life and became attached,” he clarified, waving over a barmaid and ordering a jug of wine. “Don’t blame yourselves, it’s nearly impossible to avoid.”

“What do you want?” Natalia cut straight to the point. The man hadn’t come down from his room or tried to leave the inn just yet, but she wasn’t going to miss him because the trickster decided this was how he wanted to amuse himself.

“To help of course,” he threw a charming smile in her direction. “This man isn’t a mere commoner.”

“Is he also a barkeep?” James guessed sarcastically, but Loki ignored him and continued.

“He possesses significant magical energy within him,” he explained. “He has hidden it well, it was no wonder the sorcerer couldn’t detect him before. Fortunately, he’s lowering his guard now that he’s further away.”

That was certainly a challenge. Natalia and James had experience bringing in or even killing magic users in the past, but they’d been warned ahead of time. Without being able to prepare the necessary potions and restraints, capturing the elusive assassin would prove difficult.

The barmaid placed the jug on the table and lit up when Loki pressed a gold coin in her hand. Her words were muffled to Natalia, but Loki seemed to have no trouble communicating with her until she stepped away.

“As far as anyone is concerned, I’m drinking alone,” he explained. “The assailant has a meeting with someone this evening, I assume regarding the failed attempt on the princess’ life. I propose we follow him and find out who is behind this plot.”

“You think there’s someone else?” Natalia questioned.

“He’s trying to break up his trail,” Loki stated. “Otherwise his route makes no sense. You did hear a magic user tried to kill the prince as well?”

“No, we hadn’t,” James exchanged a look with Natalia.

Another complication.

“I’m not a betting man, but I would wager it’s the same man. The timing between the attacks aligns perfectly.”

“How do you know about the attack on the prince?” Nat asked suspiciously.

“Now Natalia, would you so willingly divulge your own secrets?” he smirked up at her. “Rest assured, my information is reliable.”

Despite this, Natalia was still suspicious of his intentions. Loki had a reputation for not only acting in his own self interest, but also toying with those in his association for the fun of it. The offer to help almost seemed too good to be true.

“What do you gain from this?” she asked directly, narrowing her gaze.

“You were too young to know during the last major war,” he replied quietly. “My people have long lives, and I saw the devastation and misery that brought upon the kingdoms. It is to everyone’s benefit that Prince Peter secures the throne and the royal family remains safe.”

“So you can marry the princess?” James asked stubbornly.

“The thought never crossed my mind.”

“Don’t act like I didn’t see you at the last ball-,” he started but Natalia held up a hand to quiet him.

“You truly think this will lead to war?” she questioned seriously.

“My queen mother has foreseen a number of possibilities,” Loki’s expression fell from its usual amusement to something far more somber. “Some happy, but far too many end in grief. It is an added benefit that I can help someone I consider a dear companion.”

“How noble,” James rolled his eyes.

Natalia considered his explanation. They didn’t have much of a choice, especially if the man was a magic user. If she and James charged in like they’d planned, it would have ended badly.

Loki, from the stories you’d told her, was a formidable magic wielder himself, having been trained by his mother and studied throughout the realm under the best magic teachers.

Aside from the concern of betrayal, an issue they could address after they secured the man or his employer, she could see no downside to the alliance.

“Fine,” she stated with a nod. “We will work together until we have a better idea of what this man is capable of.”

(—)

For a kingdom nearing war, Obadiah had made sure his coronation was the grandest event in all the land.

While it had been planned in haste, the ceremonies had been well decorated, the feasts extravagant and the ball- it was like you’d been transported to another world.

The ballroom was draped in fresh spring florals, the table dressings matching in freshly pressed and cleaned pastel linens. The entire royal court had apparently found time to go to the seamstresses as almost everyone within sight was sporting some new dress or tunic in matching pastels.

And the masks.

In the spirit of revelry, renewal, and spring, the ball had ended up being a masquerade. The challenge to the guests had been to come up with clever interpretations of the theme. Many ladies and lords sported masks covered in fresh blooms, others used bright colors or exorbitant feathers that shot up in the air.

Your own outfit had been something relatively conservative compared to the finest dressed of the ladies. You’d elected to pull out a lavender dress that had belonged to your mother and with the help of your maid, Violet (the irony was not lost), sewn violets, springs of lavender, and other color appropriate flowers through a simple silk mask.

All in all, it was a sunning event, even if it was in terrible taste. Though it seemed the esteemed of the land didn’t seem to care that there were villages that didn’t have a crop to prepare that season as they grazed the massive offerings.

You found Peter toward the edge of the ballroom, his hands folded behind his back and speaking with Lady Michelle.

“Has he been behaving?” you asked the lady, appearing from behind your younger brother.

“A perfect gentleman, your highness,” she curtsied with a light laugh. “We were just discussing the intricacies of poisons versus venoms. The prince seems to think they’re the same thing.”

“Are they not?” he exclaimed, looking to you for support. “They both kill. A snake can poison you.”

“A snake injects venom, not poison,” you clarified, earning a smirk of approval from the young lady. “You ingest poison, you inject venom.”

“You hang out too much with the sorcerers,” he complained with a scowl. “No normal person knows that.”

“Why, Lady Michelle knew that, is she not normal?” you asked playfully, watching in amusement while the prince tried to apologize profusely to the sniggering woman between you.

It was almost as if you could look up at the front of the room and expect to see your father whispering something into the queen’s ear to make her blush.

Instead, Obadiah sat on that throne, laughing at something a visiting Kree ambassador had said, guzzling at a massive goblet of wine.

“I’ve never seen someone look so miserable at a ball,” Stephen commented, approaching from a conversation with Wong.

You glanced around you, noticing that Peter and Michelle had stolen off out of sight, leaving you standing and staring around the room, alone.

“That’s not true,” you chimed back. “Remember the first night we met? I was equally, if not more, miserable then.”

“Was that before or after Thor had trampled on your feet?” he asked, amusement in his eyes.

“That was well before,” you stated with a chuckle. “I was expecting some stuffy old man. Low and behold I find a sorcerer who actually knew a thing or two about what he was teaching.”

“But am I a stuffy old man?” he challenged wit ha quirked brow.

“Oh, definitely you are now,” you grinned back, noting the apparel he had chosen for the evening.

Instead of his usual worn robes, he’d changed into the maroon colors of your house. The robes looked newer, seldom used, an he clearly taken time in picking his belts and other accessories, though his mask looked like it’d been selected at the last minute.

As if reading your thoughts, he thoughtfully touched the simple black mask around his eyes.

“I borrowed it from Wanda,” he confessed quietly. “I’d nearly forgotten it was a masquerade and by the time I realized, the shops had all closed for the festivities.”

“I think it looks nice,” you assured him, the dark material making the icy blue of his eyes even more impressive in the glowing candle light of the ballroom.

“I’m amazed you found time to craft your own,” he commented, reaching and tussling one of the dangling strands of wisteria. “You do look lovely, by the way.”

Your voice caught in your throat, his expression was so earnest with the compliment. And you didn’t miss the way his hand lingered just close enough to cradle your cheek if you so inclined.

Heart racing you did you best to regain your composure from the momentary brain hiccup.

“You look very gallant yourself, are those new robes?” you asked. His hand dropped and he flattened out one of the folds in his clothes proudly.

“New in that they’ve barely been used,” he explained. “I wore them… once at Kamar-Taj and another occasion before coming here.”

“And here I thought you picked our colors on purpose,” you smirked up at him, tugging at his sleeve.

“Maybe I did? Someone has to show a little loyalty around here,” he huffed, catching your hand and pulling you out of the way of a drunken lord stumbling around the room.

Pressed against him in the corner, your heart raced even faster (a feat you would have thought impossible). Eyes meeting, hands intertwined, his expression softened as he looked down at you.

There was something about it all; the music, the lighting, the masks and intrigue, that made you want to fill the small gap between you. To see if his lips were truly as soft as they looked.

“Get a room,” Wong complained, breaking the spell.

You ripped yourself away, remembering you were in public and being caught in such a vulnerable position would have been a scandal in its own.

“Wong,” Stephen greeted, voice tense from the interruption.

“The king wishes to see the princess,” the Master reported, obviously annoyed that he’d been reduced to the level of a lowly messenger.

Exchanging identical looks of confusion, you bowed your head to the men and exceed yourself, moving toward where Obadiah waited at the far end of the room. He was in the middle of eating a massive leg of turkey when he spied you and dropped the food, opening his arms for an embrace.

“My dear, I feel we haven’t had an opportunity to speak since my arrival,” he stood up and pulled you in, his breath smelling of wine and mead. “Let me get a good look at you.”

He lifted your hand and made you give a small twirl, the way his eyes searched up and down your body made your stomach churn.

“You’ve grown,” he stated when you returned to face him. “How old are you now? Twenty and five?”

“Twenty and seven,” you clarified.

“And still unmarried?” he looked positively bewildered at the thought. “My late wife, gods bless her, was betrothed to me at her first blood.”

“My father didn’t feel the need to secure alliances with marriage contracts,” you stated, your adrenaline suddenly picking up at the direction of the conversation. “In that, I was able to make my own decisions regarding marriage.”

“And no suitors then?” he continued, reaching for his goblet and taking another large swallow. “What about the Asgardian prince?”

“Thor is betrothed to Lady Sif,” you explained patiently.

“No, the other one, Loki,” he asked, watching you for a reaction.

Fortunately your mask hid any negative emotions that may have arisen from the suggestion. The idea had been tossed around between Odin and your father, especially given you’d practically shared a childhood between the two kingdoms.

Unfortunately, despite the closeness between you and the prince, it wasn’t a love match and the kings had ultimately respected the decision. It was a fortunate outcome, given the power the two men had maintained respectively, even you could recognize and heir of a Stark and an Odinson would yield favorable means.

“It was decided we would focus on other endeavors,” you answered firmly. He nodded his head, considering your words.

“Then there is no one waiting for your hand? No secret rendezvous in the moonlight?” he laughed but you did not miss the way his eyes trailed to the back of the room where you knew Wong and Stephen to be standing.

“Why do you ask?” you questioned before giving a firm answer.

“A proposal has come up that I was considering on your behalf,” he explained briskly. “I wanted to see if it would be an issue. I wasn’t certain of arrangements your father may have made, so I figured I would ask you directly.”

A proposal?

Your head spun at the idea.

Right now? Just after your father’s death?

You couldn’t imagine leaving your home, leaving behind your family, your siblings and your mother… and in this tumultuous time?

“Is a wedding in the best interest of the kingdom, your majesty?” you asked sheepishly, all nerve and confidence draining quickly from your body as you realized that your fate rested in the easily agitated man before you.

“I think that’s for me to decide,” he replied, throwing on a smile and laughing at your reaction. “I believe it’d be a wonderful match.”

“Do I know him?” you tried a different approach. Perhaps, if you were familiar with the gentlemen in question, you could offer reason as to why it would be a bad idea.

“You know of him,” Obadiah replied, keeping his answers vague. “He’s agreed to meet with you in the morning, so enjoy your evening and we can discuss this more in the morrow.”

He returned to his conversation with the ambassador, ignoring your existence as quietly as he’d destroyed it.

Your whole body felt like it was drifting along a churning sea as you walked back toward your companions. Laughing partygoers danced and twirled around you. What had felt like a warm spell had fallen into a devastating curse.

Sensing something amiss, Wong excused himself, leaving you and Stephen alone, the latter suggesting you step outside to get some fresh air.

Part of you felt foolish. You knew that you wouldn’t be able to spend your life as a spinster, not when you had been born into such a role of privilege and importance. Perhaps you should have married Loki when you had the opportunity. You knew him, he was safe and familiar.

There was no lust there, and to that, you didn’t mind. He could have had his mistresses. You…

“Your highness?”

Stephen.

He looked to you with genuine concern, waiting for something- an explanation, a reassurance of your well being, and you had nothing. Your heart felt like it had shattered in your chest, the emotions so overwhelming and consuming all at once.

“I’m betrothed,” you finally choked out after leaning on the balcony for support. You watched him for a reaction. Anything. If he could give you a reason, convince you that this was something you should fight for yourself or even for him.

“To who?” he barked out the question, his voice strained.

“I don’t know, Obadiah arranged it,” you explained with a frustrated wave of your hand. Taking a breath you shook your head, ripping your mask off and holding your head up in an attempt to blink back the hot tears that threatened to spill over. Stephen moved to your side, his own mask coming off.

“Fight it,” he stated, taking your hands. “If you don’t want to wed, then push back against this madness.”

“He’s the king Stephen,” you reminded him in a harsh whisper. It went unspoken the fate that could await you if you went against Obadiah’s wishes. His grip tightened and he bowed his head into your knuckles. He was shaking.

Please, you mentally begged. This was it. This was his last chance.

You’d known.

Gods you’d known for so long and had done your best to push your own feelings aside. You’d hoped, deep down, that if the right time came your father would have given his blessing. It was the reason why you’d stepped away from Loki, and why he’d backed away.

It’d been this unspoken affection you’d shared for one another that had seemed so innocent until now. Until you had to stare him in the eye and tell him that you belonged to a stranger.

“Regardless of who it is,” he started, looking up at you desperately. “Would you-? Would you marry willingly?”

“Say it,” you challenged instead. Say you don’t can’t lose me. Say you oppose this.

“Is that what you want?” he searched your face for direction, but the decision was with him.

Dropping his hands in frustration, you grabbed the front of his robes and pulled him toward you in a frantic kiss. If that didn’t make your intentions clear, you didn’t know what else would.

He returned in a fervor, hands moving to pull you closer, taking the moment to taste fully what the two of you had danced around for nearly a decade. He took his time and you relished every moment of it, your soul wishing it could be bound in his embrace forever.

When he pulled away, his hand lingered on the back of your neck and he pressed his forehead against yours.

“Then we stop this.”

And even if the promise fell through, or the world crumbled around you, in that moment- that perfect moment- you didn’t care so long as he remained by your side.

(—)

5 - a gift for the princess

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darkenedreaper · 4 years

Text

So Was I

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader, Avengers x reader.

Warnings: angst, strong violence, language.

Part: 5/5

A/n: I’d like to state that I made up a few lines of poetry and I’m proud of myself.

For the time you had been taken it seemed like your body had been put under severe treatment. At this point you could’ve been gone for months. You recognised the big symbol that was painted onto the wall. Hydra. They had been testing on you, testing on the Avenger. Every day you’d go through a new pain until they found the right one. From what you could catch they were planning on using you as their next super soldier. They had obviously saw the News and what had happened and who did it to you, so they took their chance and succeeded. You were laying back onto the white bed, your arc reactor now had a new red vibranium lining on the outside of it and your new suit which stood beside you, was black, with the logo on the back. You felt stronger, stronger than you would after training, stronger than you would after once pinning Steve on his back. Steve. Steve Rogers, your enemy according to Hydra. And ‘let’s not forget’ they said ‘what that Russian Widow did you to you’. They now began another experiment on you, testing a new serum.

Back at the compound and above the ground. It had been 10 months, 3 weeks, 2 days 6 hours that you had been missing for. To say they were all ashamed would be an understatement.

Steve wanted to get away from his shield, he couldn’t look at it let alone touch it. On his wardrobe floor where he had placed it 10 months ago, it had pieces of the glass from your arc reactor surrounding it. From the impact, some of the glass had melted to his shield. He didn’t want to be reminded of it, but his tears for you couldn’t help but.

Tony nearly drunk his whole cabinet if it wasn’t for Bruce dragging him back to the lab. And then went Tony was alone, the man would cry.

Bruce didn’t want to focus on the thought of you being tortured, which you were or experimented on, which you were. But he did focus on doing everything to find your arc on the map somewhere.

Thor went back to Asgard and he didn’t want back to Asgard and he spat in everyone’s face that he didn’t want to talk to them unless the found you. His mother back at home was increasing getting worried of your absence.

Clint was home aswell to his wife and kids. Laura distanced herself from him whilst he was back there as she thought of you as family. The kids just drew drawings and tried to make their Daddy and Mommy feel better.

Wanda and Vision tried to buck up the team, but they were falling apart themselves and if they didn’t have each other, they’d be lost.

Bucky spent time on his own, he would stay in your room and sit in your chair, hoping you’d walk in the door and do his hair. He felt his arm was tainted but there was nothing he could do about that, so he tried his best to find you with Steve.

Natasha. She wallowed. She was dying inside. She wondered if the heartbreak she was going through was what you felt all those months, creeping around hiding from the team. If it was what you felt when she watched the shield drive into your heart. She didn’t dare go in your room. She couldn’t. She couldn’t look at herself.

She worked night and day trying to track you down, on every mission, in every country, yet all were failures.

They barely spoke to each other now. You affected them massively and they wanted their Y/N back. Whether you hated them or tried to kill them, they’d be so joyful that you were back.

Right now you felt best coursing through your veins and the machine that was attached around your head was slowly vanishing away your memories. You could feel all your knowledge slipping away from you. Your weaknesses being taken over from the amount of power your body had. You yelled out in pain as they would boost it up, clear it was working. A huge flash of light took over the large base and you were listening for your first command. You saw your Commander walk up to your face and he saw the change in your eyes. He snapped his fingers towards the leather straps that had metal chains wrapped over them. And you broke free from them. You hadn’t gotten taller perhaps a few inches, but your muscles were evident as your suit was placed onto you.

You were supplied with 4 guns and 3 knives. Your arc reactor had layers of protective and bulletproof glass coated over it. Now you were unbreakable. You didn’t have a name. You didn’t remember. You don’t remember your friends or if you had any, or any family. All you were focused on was your mission, the Avengers. And your main targets were ‘Captain America’ and ‘Black Widow’.

When you had been brainwashed they had managed to rid of everything except the torture the Avengers put you through. The heartbreak and physical damage. You were given your own jet and a black helmet with a red H on the front and you went off to the compound in search of one of your targets. And it wouldn’t take you long to get there.

Night had fallen at the Avengers compound and they were all in the sitting room. Silently watching a movie that no one was paying attention to. Jarvis seemed upset as he wouldn’t talk to anyone anymore, unless that was because she hadn’t been looked after for months. Friday nearly disabled herself because she was so mad at her boss. If she were a human she’d be looking for you non stop as you often had conversations with the AI.

They had all dragged each other for ‘bonding time’. They were so down and ashamed that no one heard heavy footsteps. Until Bucky picked up on the reflection and he sat up a smile on his face as it could be you.

And around the corner you came, every Avenger jumping up from their seats. No one noticed the Hydra suit because they were so focused on your breathing body. Until Natashas gaze landed on your eyes. She saw it wasn’t you, well it was. But right now you were a Hydra agent trying to kill the Avengers.

“Y/N!” Tony shouted with a big grin on his face. You pulled dour your gun and shot above his head and you would’ve gotten him if it wasn’t for Bucky pulling him away as they all scattered off in all directions. Right now you were behind a man known as Hulk. You were shooting everywhere at everyone who crossed your path or came into view. You were putting multiple holes in walls at once and you put your gun back and instead ran towards the coward and grabbed him t shirt nearly picking him up off the ground. You got out a knife from your thigh pocket and nearly jabbed it into him if it wasn’t for that voice that came from behind you and him.

“Y/N.”

You recognised the voice as Black Widow and she was a main target so you flung the other man into a wall, crashing him into the next room. You ran after her and you were nearly faster than her if it wasn’t for her jumping up into a vent. So you took a gun and starting shooting holes in the vents, hearing scurries of fear through the vents. Your super soldier hearing picked up on a whisper that came from East.

It was Tony and Wanda. They thought they were hidden as Tony was crawling towards the table with his iron fist on.

With one quick shot you blew it up. Wanda tried getting into your head but she couldn’t even get past the thick line of Hydra.

“Come on Y/N I made that! It’s Tin-Man you know me!”

He kept calling out a name you didn’t know and as he hit the wall you took a look at his arc reactor and looked at yours. You saw his hand pout from his to yours.

“The same. You see. It’s Tony.”

You put your hand around his throat and lifted him up, his head hitting the ceiling, and you started punching at his bright light. Groans, pleads and yells at you to stop game from his mouth but you soon threw him to the side aswell, discarding of him while he collapsed onto the floor. Watching you walk away, walking on the glass that had fallen from his reactor.

You went in search for the girl who was trying to break into your head and instead you ran into the man with the metal arm known as the Winter Solider. He was trying to call out your name trying to talk to you but you shut him up by grabbing him arm and jamming a piece of glass into his weak spot where the arm connected to the body. Footsteps were approaching and it was the girl again. You took a knife and held it in the air to jam into ‘Buckys’ throat but your knife was thrown across the room with some sort of red magic around it. You threw the limp body of the other super soldier towards the girl and she was too slow to react as he came crashing down into her.

The compound was a mess, glass everywhere, holes everywhere, a little spark came from a wire where your bullet had hit it.

Vision had also been seen to. He just approached you and you didn’t even acknowledge him so you just drove the bottom of your gun into his temple sending him down, and kicking him out of your way.

You would finish the targets of after you’d found your other two. You went towards the hangar where their jets were stored to see no one around.

Meanwhile, Steve was on his way down to you. His shield in his hands, not strapped onto him arm.

You knew who was behind you and pointed your gun to the troubled and saddened man who stopped in his tracks.

“Y/N. I know your in there.”

You walked up to him and smashed the gun into his face, making him fall onto his side, shield still in his hands. He got up.

“You’re not a Hydra agent. Your Y/N. Our family.”

With a grunt you hit his stomach with your fist, sending him flying backwards. He got up.

“I’m sorry Y/N.”

And now you sent your boot into his chest and made him fall on his back. This time he struggled to get up.

You had punched and kicked him so far bad that you near the edge of the runway, splashed of the water hundreds of feet beneath you. He got up.

“I’m not gonna fight you.”

He tossed his shield away from him, trying to bring you back. His face was bleeding, his back was in agony and his suit was torn because of how far and harsh he skidded backwards.

“Your my friend.”

It was an odd feeling, one you hadn’t felt for months. Did you know him? Steve? No. He was your target right? And you went with your head. As soon as he saw movement from your feet dashing towards him, he didn’t move. If you were to kill him he wouldn’t envy you, he would’ve said he deserves it. His head didn’t hit the ground and he was now on the edge of the cliff with you above him, one fist balled into his suit and the other clenched.

“Your my mission.”

The first time he heard you speak in months and it was this.

After the first punch his eye had already began to close over. The second punch, his facial skin was torn. The third punch, both nostrils began to bleed. “Your.” The fourth punch his lip cut. “My.” The fifth punch, his lip bled out. “Mission!” The sixth punch sent his head lolling around.

You had to stop to consider if what you were doing was right. You knew this man. You knew them all.

“Then finish it.” His voice broke.

“Cause I’ll go with whatever your ordered.”

He even nodded confirming that it was okay for you to kill him.

He was talking about him being your target to kill. You were ready. You were so ready to throw him off the edge of it wasn’t for that voice.

Calling out a name. You turned your head and got up. The red head was standing. Arms crossed. She had fear and tears in her eyes. As soon as you stood quickly her arms unfolded like lightening.

She took a step back as you slowly approached her, getting a knife from your pocket.

“Y/N, this isn’t you. You need to listen to me. Y/N please.”

Your anger had slowly started to build again inside you.

“Stop saying that goddamn name it’s fucking pissing me off.”

Her mouth was bobbing open and closed. She wanted to sob at seeing how you were. She wanted to see those E/C eyes staring back at her instead of the blank ones that had one thing in mind.

“Do you not know me?” She was starting to walk back into the weapons room but she had no intention of doing any harm to you. And if you wanted to beat her and kill her then so be it. She’d let you. Your fist that was empty was slowly beginning to ball up but you couldn’t hit her and why? You didn’t know.

“моя любовь, пожалуйста, послушай меня.”

The Russian sentence of ‘my love please listen to me’.

It caused you to snap and you swung at her face, causing her to groan and stumble backwards.

“Do not tell me to listen to you. I’m not your fucking love.”

She wanted to cup her face as she felt the bruise appearing but that would be selfish after everything you’ve been through.

“Ты понимаешь русский мой дорогой”

‘Do you understand Russian my dear?’

You were never taught Russian at your Hydra base so why could you understand it. You took heavy breathes and you had a confused look on your face because your lip trembled and anger was painted onto your face again. You threw your fist at her again causing her head to snap backwards and blood tricked down her lip.

She was exhausted. The sleepless nights without you, the guilt drowning her. You ran towards her and she put her arms up to defend herself but you were quick to pull them down and you landed kicks to her side and plenty of hard punches to her ribs. By the time she had cornered herself she was sure a rib or two were broken. Her forehead was gashed and bleeding. Her sides hurt like hell and her neck was strained and had knots in the muscles because of how many times her head had flung back from the strength of your fists. You were still standing strong and unharmed and that was when you retrieved your knife again.

“Моя любовь, когда ты вернешься дома, только тогда я буду дышать, моя дорогая, когда ты узнаешь мое имя, только тогда я буду улыбаться. Когда ты вернешься ко мне, только тогда мое сердце поправится.” ‘My love, when you get home, only then will I breathe. My darling, when you know my name, only then will I smile. When you return to me, only then will my heart recover.’

You were lost in thought and you could hear voices just like hers whispering that into your ear late at night or when you had gotten back from a tough mission. You heard other voices. Buck? T? Banner? Wands? Vis? Stevie?

“Natasha?”

She had tears freely falling and she noticed your tight grip on your knife still. She nodded and she slowly approached you limping but smiling to herself as you didn’t tense or move backwards.

“But you hurt me.”

She nodded again as she was in front of you now, subtly slipping the knife from your hand. She took of your helmet and placed it on the floor alongside the knife. She could see it in your eyes. The good and bad memories coming back to you. But she could see hesitance.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I’m sorry. I’m sorry but please stop this. This isn’t you Y/N, it never has been and never will be.”

You took in her words and started to accept her, not yet forgiving her and the team for what they had done to you. She knew you were still going to be a super soldier and she knows her and the teams’ actions were always going to haunt you. She placed her hand on your arc reactor and it felt like home. All she could do was hope. Hope that you still had forgiveness in your heart. Time would need to be taken for you to heal. For the hydra walls to break down. But she would be there for you. She’d do whatever it would take for you to forgive her, for her to get you back.

They all would.

(My gif use as you want)

@natasha-danvers @imnotasuperhero @aaron-despair @confusinggemini612 @thewidowsghost @ecruzsalaz @fcbarcelona-and-marvel-4-life @gaytrashgoblin @capmarvelq @nat-romanoffdanvers @lesbian-x-blackwidow @emilyprentisswife @captain-josslett @fayhar @oblivious-horny-lesbian @trikruismybitch @summergeezburr @username23345 @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

#natasha romanoff #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x reader angst

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Secrets ~ 1

Warnings: noncon sexual acts later in series

This is dark!Bucky and dark!Steve and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A buried family secret comes to light thrusting you to the forefront of an old alliance.

Note: Bruh, other series are still going. At least one update a week for existing series in future, I promise! Probably more.

This was semi-inspired by The Princess Diaries but obviously we’re not going highschool.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You found it hard to focus on the lecture. You copied the slides without processing the words. You couldn’t tear your mind from the unusual stranger. The one who had slipped from the room not ten minutes earlier. The one no one else seemed to notice; even the professor as she outlined the fall of the Roman Empire.

You did because you were early every week. You sat in the same seat, pulled out your notebook and pen, and put your phone on silent. You’d worked too long to screw this up. Years of saving and scrounging just to pay the application fee, bursaries awarded for your volunteer work and nearly forgotten extracurriculars from high school.

So, you noticed. The man sat in the back row with not a possession before him. Silent, discerning, and to be frank, a bit too old for the student body. Even you, after several years away from academics, thought so. You used the reflection in your phone screen to watch him and when he stood and left without cause, you angled it after his departure.

Perhaps he had come to the wrong room. Or maybe he had got the wrong time. He could be an older student or a guest speaker. Whatever he was, he was gone and you needed to focus. You didn’t have much time outside of class to revise your notes. Between your job at the campus bookstore and your intern position at the museum, you didn’t have time for anything beyond a few hours sleep.

You packed up as the lecture came to an end. Tuesdays, Professor Halren went over the week’s material and Thursdays you had a class discussion on the assigned articles. Basic, simple, but at least eighty pages of reading a week. You climbed the steps between the rows of tables and passed through the upper doors. The east entrance down the rear stairwell was the quickest exit.

You tossed your bag in the passenger seat of your crummy used Honda, parked in front of the burger joint several blocks away from campus parking. It cost you more to park on-site than it did for the beat-up contraption itself.

You drove to the museum and got out, your lanyard around your neck denoting you as a volunteer. You usually worked the help desk or handed out pamphlets for upcoming tours. Most of the time it was quiet enough for you to study in between visitors.

Sheila was the curator on duty that night. She kept to her office, saying she trusted you to direct the rare patrons who arrived on a Tuesday night. As expected, it was dead. You wandered around with textbook in hand, occasionally looking up to check that you were alone.

There was a man by the chart of Greek gods and their relations. A spiderweb with no end. You closed your book and quietly set it down on the nearest bench as you kept an eye on the man. It was him, the one from the lecture hall. A frightening coincidence. He leaned closer to the diagram then turned away, walking, no marching along the wall and rounding the corner into the next section.

Your heart was beating; in confusion and fear. You followed, carefully not to let your shoes click as you did. As you reached the next corridor, he was nowhere to be seen. You continued on, around corner and corner, on and on, looking up and down the walkways. He was gone.

You came back to the bench where you left your textbook. You glanced around one last time and opened it. Behind the cover was a ribbon, a tricade of red, white, and blue, a star emblazoned three-quarters of the way up embroidered in gold and silver. You’d seen it before but none so new as this.

You held it up and felt it between your fingers. You closed the book again and tucked it under your arm. You went to the next wing; medieval history. You walked along the timeline of European kingdoms, below each was a display of royal families of each.

The same ribbon, aged and frayed, laid beneath the kingdom of Astrania, marked by the house of Rogers. A long storied bloodline thrust in and out of power by civil wars and politics well into the twentieth century. A country that stood still, one of the few who still lauded a monarch, as famous as the Windsors in England and beyond. The last vestiges of long lost era.

You shoved the ribbon in your pocket. It was likely a souvenir from some commodified tour of the country. A forgotten novelty sold for pennies and shoved into a used textbook. You shrugged and headed back to your usual spot among the ancient civilizations. Strange things happened. That was life.

👑

You spent your few hours before midnight writing up your rough draft for Life and Death in Ancient Greece then finally crashed. You slept on your back, uncomfortably; a heavy, exhausted sleep. You woke to voices. Your mother’s and another. One you didn’t know.

You checked the time, it was barely seven in the morning. You grumbled as you sat up. Your mother’s tone set you on edge as her voice rose. You stood and crossed to the door. You turned the handle slowly, listening through the crack of the door as you eased it open.

“You get out of my house.” She snarled. You’d never heard her sound so vicious. “I am not that person anymore. I never was.”

“You can hide behind a name,” The deep voice replied evenly. “It doesn’t change your real one.”

“My father is dead, his name died with him.” She hissed. “I won’t tell you again to leave.”

“Or what?”

“I’ll call the police, asshole.”

“I’ve been sent here under the banner of diplomacy, what are they gonna do?”

You stepped out as the argument continued, your mother growing angrier as you tiptoed down the hallway to the kitchen. She grabbed a frying pan from the dish rack as you stopped in the doorway and she waved it at the man standing on the other side of the table.

“I’ll just have to make you,” She warned. “Now go--”

“Mum,” You rubbed your eyes. “What’s going on?” You looked to the man as he turned to look at you. It was the same man from the day before. You recoiled and pressed yourself to the wall. “Who is that?”

“No one. He’s leaving.” She edged around the table and drew back the frying pan.

He didn’t move. She swung and he caught the pan as his palm deflected it away from his head. He wrenched it away from her and tossed it away.

“Sit down, your highness,” He glared at your mother as he clanked the pan against the table.

You frowned and looked at your mother. Her eyes glinted at you and she shook her head.

“You will not tell my daughter what to do,” She scowled. “Not in my house.”

“You can send me away now, but I’ll be back.” He looked around the kitchen. “Looks like you can afford a fine lawyer, indeed.”

“Lawyer?” Your mother spat.

“There’s a contract, Princess,” He sneered.

“There is no kingdom left. No crown, no throne.” Your mother neared and grabbed your wrist, drawing you to her. “My daughter does not belong to anyone.”

“Your own father signed the accord. We paid our dues, even after his fall, we expect you to fulfill your end of the contract.”

“My father is dead,” She pushed in front of you, shielding you from the man. His square jaw twitched and his blue eyes glimmered defiantly.

“As his heir, you would acquire his responsibility. She is his first born granddaughter.” The man asserted.

“She has no title.” Your mother insisted. “You can see we have no wealth, no holdings. We are displaced; we are common.”

“Princess Karissa of Ecklun,” The man addressed your mother, “Her daughter, Duchess of Brey. You needn’t land to uphold your titles… and your obligations.”

“The contract is old. Outdated.” Your mother countered. “There are other duchesses. Real ones.”

“The contract is legal still, it has been upheld to this point and there is no clause for annulment. Unless of course you have the funds to buy out the agreement.” He challenged. “Fifteen million, with interest.”

Your mother was silent. He hand squeezed your wrist.

“I never received any of these payments you claim to have made,” She said.

“In a trust, as stated in the contract, to be accessible upon the day of marriage.” He declared. “If you insist, however, I can return with my legal council… and a military escort.”

Your mother let out a long breath. She released you and shakily pulled out a chair from the table. “Sit,” She gestured you forward and drew another chair out. “I’ll entertain your… discussion.”

You stepped forward and sat and she did too. The man across from you lowered himself into another chair and set down his briefcase on the floor. He reached inside and drew out a bundle of papers. He slid them across to your mother.

“If you’d like to look over the terms,” He smirked. “You’ll see all is as I said.”

“He couldn’t find another bride?” She spat as she ignored the contract.

“Not legally.” He insisted and looked at you. “Forgive me. I didn’t introduce myself, your highness. James Barnes, I am a representative of the Astranian court.”

“I don’t--” You blinked. “I don’t understand what’s--”

“Yes, apparently your mother has created a convincing ruse here in this… slum,” He sighed. “What do you know of your grandfather?”

“Don’t talk to her.” Your mother snipped. “Talk to me.”

“She must know--”

“I will explain. That is my responsibility. My right.” She sneered and grabbed the papers.

She flipped the first page, then the second, she continued as she hastily read through it. You peeked over her shoulder but she kept turning away to block you. When she finished, she turned it face down.

“You signed it, Princess,” The man said.

“I was sixteen.” She said. “I was still a child.”

“You were a married woman.” He returned.

“A girl forced into a ring.” She slapped the paper. “And you would have me do the same to my daughter?”

“You already did,” He said plainly. “And she is older. Quite a few years, in fact.”

“It took you years to find us,” She grinned. “You think you’ll be as lucky again?”

“You are being watched. You have been watched.” He pushed his shoulders back. “We have waited long enough.”

“Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” You said.

The man, Barnes, looked at you. Appalled.

“I will,” Your mother squeezed your arm. “Mr. Barnes.” She turned back to him, her head held high. “Might you allow me some time to prepare?”

“To run?” He challenged.

“If we are being watched as you say, that should not be an issue,” She sniffed. “You must understand the circumstance.”

“I do understand your negligence,” He raised a brow. “One day. That is all I can allow you.”

He left the contract and stood. He took his briefcase and nodded to the table. “A copy for your records.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card and flicked it onto the document. “My information should you require it.”

He bowed his head and turned to leave you. The door opened and closed loudly as he strode out the back door. You sat, perplexed, and reached for the contract. Your mother caught your hand. She turned to you and drew your hand back with her.

“Honey,” She said softly. “I need you to listen to me. Just-- don’t talk, just listen.”

“Mum, I--”

“You’re going to hate me. I know that hate, I felt the same for my own father. I would not blame you for hating me even more than that.” She said grimly. “But please, there is much I need to tell you. That I should’ve told you before.”

“I don’t-- I don’t understand.” You sputtered.

“So just listen,” She pleaded. You nodded and your stomach bubbled nervously. “You’ve heard of Ecklun? You were always so fond of history.” You confirmed and she continued on. “And Astrania. Occasional allies until the dissolution of the former… but that all doesn’t matter.”

Your mother hung her head.

“My father knew the tide was against him. He tried to rally his reinforcements, he made promises to those he thought could help. He was the king, you see? He was dethroned, we were all thrown out of the country. I tried to… stay with him. Tried to make him move on but he wouldn’t. So after I had you, I left. Your father didn’t want to let go either and he refused to come with me.”

She touched her cheek and shuddered.

“It was all gone so I thought that meant it was over. Everything. The promises, the debts.” She shook her head. “I tried so hard to start over. For you. But… Your grandfather promised you to the heir of Astrania to fund his personal guard. The same that ejected us from our home.”

She twined her fingers together then pulled them apart. She gulped before she found her voice again.

“That heir is now in power,” She could barely look at you. “And you… you are to be his wife.”

“I-- no, they can’t-- it--”

“I thought I could stop it. I didn’t think they’d want it still but-- I always hated how backwards it all was. Bloodlines, lineage, privilege… It was all so ridiculous.” She huffed. “I-- tried. I failed.”

“You ran once, we can--”

“That man found me. I am not foolish to think he did not come with back-up. I have seen what happens when you undermine others. I have seen the ugliness of it. I can’t say what’s worse; to let them have you or to refuse and suffer further. You don’t know how-- I was stupid enough to think I could ever outpace them.”

You gaped at her. Shocked, angry, sickened.

“And now I can’t stop them.” She uttered.

“You didn’t tell me,” You breathed. “You should have told me.”

“I’m sorry--”

“I have school, work...I… No, they can’t. I have a life!” You stood and the chair wobbled.

“Honey, please,” She got to her feet. “I know how it feels. Trust me. My father, he did the same--”

“So what? Family tradition?” You scoffed. “They can’t make me. I’m staying. I’m going to school, I’m working. I’m not--”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“I won’t go!” You shouted.

“They’ll make you.”

“How?”

She looked at you. Her face was grim, her wrinkles more apparent than ever before. She didn’t need to say.

“They can’t--”

“They’ll find a way.” She muttered. “They always do. I’m so so sor--”

“So I’ll make them drag me,” You said. “I’ll fight it.”

“It’s treason--”

“It’s the twenty-first century!”

“Not there. It’s not the same as here. There’s no one to stop them.”

You didn’t know what to say. You hit the table and swore. You stormed from the room and slammed your door before you fell onto the bed and screamed into your pillows.

It was a dream. It had to be a dream!

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platypanthewriter · 3 years

Text

The Devil Looks After His Own Ch2

Part 1: Little Steve Harrington is so lonely he tries summoning a demon with a ritual advertised on TV--but luckily, it doesn't work, and a buff, non-human nanny hired by his mom shows up minutes later. Years later, they're best friends, and Steve still doesn't know the truth. For @magniloquent-raven!

The other thing that Billy did that no other grown-ups Steve knew had ever done was have sex in bathrooms. He wasn’t sure for a while—because Billy always made sure Steve was fine, settled with his pancakes at IHOP, or in the play area at Fred Meyer—but Billy would leave for about twenty minutes, and come back sweaty and grinning, and kind of tired.

Steve snuck after him, once, and saw someone holding Billy’s wrists against the wall of the bathroom and kissing him, sliding his hand down to unbutton Billy’s jeans and pull his penis out, and Steve had stared through his fingers just long enough to see Billy grinning into the kisses, and shifting his hips.

Steve’d run back to his pancakes, his heart pounding.

He realized, thinking about it as he drew designs in the syrup with his fork, that Billy was that thing he’d heard yelled when somebody kissed boys—a slut—and he wondered whether it mattered. Billy did everything he was supposed to do, and he was nice, and stuck around with Steve in the shoe section while Steve tried on every single pair, and then when Steve didn’t want any of them, Billy took him to three more stores.

It couldn’t be a bad thing, Steve thought, biting his lips, not if Billy was one.

When the guy who’d been kissing Billy walked out—he had gray speckled feathered wings, so Steve was pretty sure it was him, even from the back—Steve ducked his head down over his pancakes. By the time Billy wandered back, still grinning, to slump in the booth, Steve’s jaw had firmed. Billy had looked happy, and he was okay, Steve was pretty sure. Probably. Even if it was the kind of thing that made parents yell like they did when they were scared.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his cheeks reddening again, keeping his eyes on his eggs. Billy sat up and faced him, flattening his hands on the table.

“What,” he asked, levelly.

“Are you okay,” Steve mumbled stubbornly, hunching his shoulders. “Y-you looked—okay. H-happy.”

“...you followed me,” Billy whispered, his fingers clenching into fists. “Shit. Uh, darn. ...it.”

“I won’t tell,” Steve said, shrugging awkwardly, and wishing he hadn’t been worried enough to see where Billy was going, because now he was more worried. “If—if you’re okay.”

“...I’m fine,” Billy said, which was what he’d said when Steve’s dad had threatened to fire him, and Steve wasn’t sure he believed it.

He forced himself to look up at Billy, surveying his just-washed face, and how pale he’d gotten since Steve opened his dumb mouth. “I’m not mad,” he said, which was weird to say to a grownup, but Billy looked like he might want to know.

“Just disappointed?” Billy asked, laughing, and grimacing.

“No,” Steve said quickly. “I-I’m not.” He’d been thinking about Tommy’s elder sister, and how she’d gotten in big trouble when their parents found condoms in her room—and how he and Tommy had hidden at the top of the stairs, listening to Tommy’s parents yell. “Um are you u-using condoms,” he asked as fast as he could, and Billy choked on the water he was sipping, coughing and thumping himself in the chest.

“Kid,” he spluttered, and Steve made a face at him.

“Are you?” he hissed. “You have to be safe. I love you.”

Billy stared at him for a long second, until Steve started feeling embarrassed, even though it was just what he said every night, as Billy put him to bed. “...love you too, brat,” he finally muttered back, leaning his face in his arms on the table with a deep sigh. “I’m...fine.”

“I don’t believe you,” Steve said, his cheeks heating further, because he’d found Billy that very morning trying to fill a sandwich with chunky soup. “We should—we should talk to—to my mom, or a teacher. So—so you can be safe—”

“Oh my god,” Billy mumbled, folding his arms over his head. His ears were very red. “I can’t catch anything from a human, okay, I’m not gonna get syphilis.”

Steve had no idea what that was, but it didn’t make him any less worried. He took a bite of egg as the server came over and asked how his breakfast was, and he nodded to her, smiling, even though he was so worried the egg tasted like nothing. “Wh-what about saying no,” he whispered to Billy, as soon as she was gone. “You, um, you can say no to—to uh, things, right?”

“I can and I do, kiddo,” Billy laughed, sliding his hand over to link their pinkies, his face still hidden in his other arm. “I’m okay, Stevie, I swear. You made sure I could say no, remember?”

“You’re still bad at it,” Steve said, because usually Billy scooped him up and put him in the bath, or in bed, even if Steve was laughing and yelling ‘Nope! No! You jerk, I’m still eating!’, but sometimes Steve would forget, and tell Billy to do something, and Billy would take a deep breath and hold very still until Steve remembered.

“Sure, with you,” Billy said, raising his head enough to grin lazily at Steve, and Steve couldn’t help smiling back.

“We should talk to—to somebody,” he said, stubbornly. “A—a real grownup.”

“I’m real,” Billy huffed.

“Somebody older,” Steve hissed, and Billy made a face.

“I’m older than your dad,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

“But you—you’re not human,” Steve reminded him. “You—you’re like a teenager. You said.”

“Nooo, come on, kiddo, lemme alone,” Billy groaned. “I’m old enough.”

Steve narrowed his eyes and grabbed Billy’s phone, and typed s-a-f-e into the search bar, and then braced himself, and tapped s-e-x. He hunched his shoulders, his face burning, and hit search. He found a lot of...things, and squeaked in a kind of dying way through his hand.

Billy snatched the phone back, looked at it, and said “Oh my god. Stevie. Stop. I will research it myself, and I—I will be careful. Okay?”

Steve buried his hot face in his hands, nodding, and trying to suppress horrified giggles. He kinda wanted to turtle into his jacket, or crawl away under the tables, but he just pulled his knees up on the seat, and tried not to whine like a tea kettle.

Billy grimaced, scrolling through his phone, and Steve realized—while his ears probably smoked with the imagery he’d seen about things in butts—that Billy’s shoulders were up, and he had his arms crossed in front of himself too.

“Sorry,” Steve wheezed, through his fingers. “Y-you aren’t—you aren’t gross! Sorry! I just—I just love you and—I have to keep you safe—”

“I have to keep you safe,” Billy told him, grinning, and shaking his head. “I’m more grown up than you, fetus.” His cheeks were pink, and Steve scowled at him, then kicked at his knees under the table.

“You’re bad at some things!” he hissed, as Billy yelped, swinging his legs away. “I have to help, I have to help you—”

Billy shushed him, laughing, and then opened his mouth, and closed it, as Steve sipped at his hot chocolate. Billy waved at it, and suddenly it was hot again like it had just come from the kitchen, and had rainbow sprinkles, and Steve sighed, wanting to—hug him, or something, and feeling the same annoying worry he always felt when he wasn’t doing enough. He knew Billy’d stay, he told himself, as long as he could.

As long as Steve could keep him wanting to.

“Finish your pancakes,” Billy told him, grinning. “Gonna take you to the park.”

Steve liked the park okay, mostly because it was where they went when somebody was happy with him, but it was also worrying, because it was where they went when his parents wanted him to shut up and go play. He was pretty sure this time was both, but when they got out to the parking lot, Billy grabbed him and spun him around so his legs swung around in the air, and hugged him the whole way to the car, and when they got there, he didn’t send Steve off to play while Billy talked on his phone, so it was Good Park Reasons.

“You’re not...mad,” Steve asked, cautiously, and Billy laughed, squeezing him tighter.

“Nah,” he said. “You?”

“Naaaah,” Steve giggled back, drawing out the syllable.

There was a pattern to Billy being a slut, Steve noticed, because if it was Billy, it couldn’t be a bad word. They’d be out, and somebody would see Billy, or Billy’d see them, and Steve would see them staring at each other. “I’m going to go listen to storytime,” he’d announce, or “Look, there’s a play area here, I’m gonna go ride the bouncy horse.”

“Me too,” Billy said once, cheerfully, grinning at him, and Steve shook his head.

“They don’t allow grownups on the bouncy horse,” he said slowly, wishing he didn’t have to tell Billy sad things when he was grinning, but Billy just laughed, hugged Steve’s head—messing up his hair—and walked off.

When Steve had to start first grade, he clung to Billy the night before, and Billy carried him around for two hours, making him giggle as they made popcorn and watched cartoons on Netflix, and then pulled a big wrapped present out of nowhere. It was a new LEGO set, one Steve had never even heard of, a dragon that could transform into a pirate ship.

“Is it that weird?” Billy asked, grimacing at it, while Steve stared, and Steve threw his arms around Billy’s neck, shaking his head.

“I don’t want to go to school. I want to stay home with you,” Steve said into Billy’s shoulder, and sighed.

“Maybe I should put it away, then,” Billy said, raising his eyebrows. “I was saving it for when you had to go back to school, but if you don’t want it—”

“I want it!” Steve yelped, scrambling back out of Billy’s lap to huddle around it. “I want it, I want it!”

“Okay,” Billy told him, ruffling his hair. “We probably won’t finish it tonight, but once you make a ton of friends, I’ll need something super cool to get you to hang out with me, right?”

“No,” Steve told him, laughing. “You’re my best friend.”

Billy laughed, but he didn’t look convinced, so when he got the fruit snacks out after dinner, Steve gave him all the blue ones—they tasted best—and the trucks, which were biggest.

“Ah,” said Billy, biting his lips together. “They’re very...warm,” because they’d gotten a little sticky as Steve waited for him to finish the dishes, but he crouched and pulled Steve into a tight hug.

Steve fell asleep curled up against Billy’s shoulder, and woke up in his bed, with his mom shaking him awake.

“I told Billy we don’t need him during the school year,” she said, frowning at her phone. “During the day, anyway. He’ll still come by and feed you, and put you to bed.”

She wandered off, and Steve wondered, clutching his blankets, whether anyone would make him breakfast. He climbed out of his bed feeling kind of...bad, like he’d had a nightmare, and might cry. He sniffled, and rubbed his face, and stayed in his pajamas until after breakfast, trying not to think about his usual mornings, with Billy pretending he was an out-of-control backhoe and scooping him out of bed, or Billy humming at the stove as he made Steve eggs and toast.

Steve’s eyes leaked a little, and he stomped to the bathroom and blew his nose, feeling like a big baby for missing Billy so much. He got himself cereal, and remembered shopping for it—Billy’d slowly taken over all the things Steve’s mom and dad used to do, like buying him new school clothes, and taking him to the doctor—and Billy had let him pick out things his mom never would have, weird fruits they didn’t know how to eat, and once, because Steve had liked it, a set of footie pajamas with rainbows and unicorns that was definitely for girls.

He’d warned Steve, once they were back in the car, that sometimes people were mean to boys who wore unicorns, and Steve had held up his middle fingers, the way he was allowed to do when their downstairs neighbor called Billy mean names.

“You tell ‘em, tiger,” Billy had said, laughing.

The day school started, Steve hugged himself in the soft unicorn pajamas, and pulled the hood over his head. He tried to stop crying so he could go finish breakfast, but he kept thinking of awful things, like what if Billy didn’t come on weekends anymore, and it was just Steve all alone in the house, and what if nobody bought food at all, and what if Billy was taking care of some new kid he liked better. His mom found him bawling on the toilet, and groaned.

“You have to go to school even if you cry,” she said flatly, and Steve nodded, sniffling.

“C-can I call Billy,” he whispered, his voice sounding kind of funny, like he was sick.

She rolled her eyes, sighing, but handed him her phone, and he fiddled with it until she yanked it back, clicked around, and handed it back, ringing.

“Yes ma’am?” came Billy’s voice, and Steve stood up.

“BILLY!” he yelled, and Billy laughed.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said, “—did you need something? You know I’ll see you after school, right?”

“I miss you,” Steve told him, with another sniffle, and Billy started making all these shushing, calming noises, like the time Steve had fallen down the outside stairs of the apartment building, and Billy’d been more freaked out than Steve was.

Steve giggled, wetly. “Um,” he asked, clearing his throat, “—are—are you with a...different kid?”

“No!” Billy laughed. “No way, short stuff, I’m just at the laundromat, okay?”

“If you get a different kid,” Steve said, stubbornly, around the hard lump in his throat, “—they have to let you say no. They have to tell you you can say no, you have to—”

“I’m okay, Stevie,” Billy said, sounding a little teary himself. “I’m gonna see you today, and we’re both okay, okay? We’re gonna both be fine. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I wouldn’t be there this morning, I didn’t know either, okay?”

“...okay,” Steve mumbled, glaring up at his mom, who was inspecting the edges of her false nails.

“I’ll talk to you later, all right, my man?” Billy asked, and Steve nodded, swallowing.

“Later,” he managed.

“So dramatic,” his mom said, grabbing her phone back, and hanging up.

Steve waited for the school bus with four older kids who kept screaming and pretending to shove each other into traffic. He rubbed his nails up and down his backpack straps, making a wsht wsht wsht noise, and worried about Billy. It was hot already in the sun, and he squinted watching for the bus.

The teachers met them by the bus, and they did a roll call, different loud voices yelling out their names. Right after Steve’s name was called was Billy Hargrove, by the same teacher, and that was Billy’s name, his whole name that Steve’s parents used. Steve spun, huge-eyed, to see a kid run up, his age, but definitely Billy, and Steve threw both arms around him, trying not to cry.

“Is this okay?” Billy asked, stiff and nervous, and Steve squeezed him tighter, feeling how small he was, Steve’s size or even littler, but still with his pretty hair, and his earring.

“You two are friends, huh? That’s nice,” the teacher told them, smiling, and Steve nodded at her.

“He’s my Billy,” he said, unable to stop smiling, or let go of Billy. Billy looked kind of startled, and proud of himself, the way he did when he cooked something right the first time, or found the boy’s shoe section.

“Are you gonna come all the time?!” Steve whispered, and Billy shrugged, raising his eyebrows.

“Maaaaybe,” he whispered back, but he was smiling as huge and goofily as Steve, and Steve missed paying attention to half the first day of class, he was so excited. Once he got Billy alone, at recess, around the side of the gym, he hugged him again, and Billy laughed.

“Are you a genie,” Steve asked, half serious, and Billy stilled again.

“...what d’you mean,” he asked, cautiously, and Steve laughed.

“You keep giving me wishes,” he said. “You gave me a best friend. And I’m not lonesome at school. And the LEGO dragon,” he told Billy, holding both his hands. “That’s three wishes.”

Billy was watching him uncertainly, and Steve was happy, not mad, so he leaned in and kissed the end of Billy’s nose. Billy squirmed away, laughing.

“That’s not all, though,” Steve told him, grabbing his hands again. “You got me Honey Nut Cheerios yesterday. I know we were out of them, Billy. You got my mom the job she wanted...I think,” he said, because he’d had suspicions, but Billy grimaced guiltily, and then he was sure.

“I got a best friend out of it too,” he muttered, glaring at Steve. Steve grinned at him, and Billy sighed. “Don’t worry, you’re not gonna run out of wishes, I’m not the guy from Aladdin.”

“You’re a genie?” Steve whispered, bouncing a little on his toes, and leaning in too close, probably, his weight squishing Billy’s shoulder blades against the cement wall of the gym, but then he remembered that Billy was bad at saying no. He stepped back. “Um, do you—do you need help?”

“I’m okay,” Billy said, laughing again. As a kid, his cheeks were kind of pink and round, and Steve clenched his fists so he wouldn’t get grabby.

“Could—could people make you do things?” Steve asked, biting his lip.

“You could,” Billy said, smiling, and turning even pinker. “But you don’t.”

“I won’t,” Steve nodded. “Is there—is there something people could—could someone steal you,” he asked, his voice cracking as the horrible thought occurred to him, and Billy shook his head, laughing.

“It’s not exactly like that, there’s no lamp, or anything,” he said, glancing at Steve, and then frowning at the ground. “I-I’m not exactly a genie. I’m—I’m just yours, as long as you want me.”

“Oh,” Steve said, in a small voice, wondering how he’d gotten so lucky, and also feeling like this was an even bigger responsibility than a puppy. “Um.”

“Or you can send me away,” Billy said, smiling, a little. “If you get bored.”

“I wouldn’t ever,” Steve said, pulling him into a hug again, and sighing into his smaller, softer shoulder. “Um, unless—unless you want me to.”

Billy shook his head, hugging Steve back.

He knew even less about first grade than Steve did, which was kind of weird, but fun, because Steve got to show him how to sharpen pencils, and clean the whiteboard, and Billy listened to books like he had no idea what was gonna happen, even books Steve had heard over and over before.

“Your new friend’s kinda dumb,” Tommy Hagen said, glaring at Billy, and Steve scowled.

“He’s smart! And he’s pretty, and he’s nice,” Steve hissed, and stomped away, and Tommy knocked into him every chance he got after that, spilling Steve’s paint and his glitter and his cheerios, but the teacher was a fairy, and she waved everything tidy, hovering about three inches off the floor in annoyance.

“Read me the next one,” Billy whispered, when Steve went to find out what he was doing by the bookshelf.

“...you can read, though,” Steve said, and Billy nodded, sitting next to him, and leaning his head on Steve’s shoulder.

“I was up early,” he mumbled, and Steve put an arm around him, and read him the story.

He turned back into himself—the Billy Steve was used to—after school, and Steve watched him, fascinated.

“What do you really look like?” he asked, and Billy shot him a frown, clenching his hands around the steering wheel.

“Uh, what does that...mean,” he asked, and Steve watched him, wondering if Billy’s shoulders hunched up when he was nervous because that’s what humans did, and Billy was copying, or whether that was what genies did, too.

“I just wondered,” Steve said, shrugging, and he looked away, trying to look uninterested. “You don’t have to tell me. Uh, recess is uh, fun, huh? Um, I like the tire swing. We should, uh, we should...make a snack. At home. Later.”

Billy laughed. “You’re such a good kid,” he said, grinning over, and Steve’s whole face reddened.

He nearly swallowed his tongue. “I—I’m normal,” he said, and Billy reached over and ruffled his hair.

“I dunno, kiddo, you seem pretty great to me.” Steve groaned, hiding his bewildered grin in his arms, and Billy was quiet for a long second, before saying “...it’s not like here, where I’m from. I can’t...be like I am there.”

“Oh,” said Steve, nodding a lot, because he had no idea what that meant.

“This is how I look here,” Billy said, smiling over. “There’s no big secret.”

“Ohhhh,” Steve said, nodding again, kind of disappointed, but considering the genie from Aladdin—the only genie he knew of. “It’s probably easier, having feet,” he offered, and Billy snickered.

“Yeah, yeah, it is.”

The real thing Steve wanted to ask seemed kind of...big, bigger than whether Billy was secretly blue. “Um,” he said, frowning down at his hands.

“...what’s up, bud?” Billy asked, raising his eyebrows, and Steve made a face.

“Uh, where did you...go? When my mom said you had to leave. Do you…”

“I told you, I took everything to the laundromat,” Billy said quickly, and Steve shook his head.

“No, I mean...where do you...live,” he whispered. “I thought...I thought you lived at my house. You never left before.”

“I’m okay, I’m fine,” Billy said quickly, and Steve bit his lips together, kind of hating his mom. “I just, y’know. I don’t sleep, exactly, I found a cafe—”

“That won’t work,” Steve said, feeling the weight of Billy being his, and setting his jaw. “I’ll...I’ll tell her I need you to make breakfast. I’ll make a big mess of the kitchen—”

“Don’t worry about me, kiddo,” Billy said, laughing. “It’s not like she made me go home.”

“It’d be nice if you did have a lamp,” Steve sighed. “With little stuff in it, you know, like Polly Pocket. You could go in there when you wanted to.” Billy started laughing, cackling so hard he pulled over and folded his arms on the steering wheel, and when he looked over, finally, Steve stuck his tongue out. “It’s not that funny,” he huffed.

Billy beamed at him, and ruffled his hair again, roughly, like he was trying to mess Steve’s hair up, and wiped his eyes. “You know what I can do,” he said, softly, leaning close, and Steve leaned towards him. The vinyl of his seat creaked.

“Why are we whispering?” he asked.

“I can change size,” Billy told him, grinning. “You want to build me somewhere to live, Stevie? With your LEGOs?”

“Ohhhh,” Steve gasped, staring at him. “Let’s go home right now,” he whispered back. “Do—do you want a castle? Or a—a death star,” he whispered through his fingers, his voice squeaking. “A ship?!”

“We can look at all the options,” Billy said seriously, and Steve stomped his feet on the floor of the car like drum beats, he was so excited.

He had homework when they got home, writing about his summer, and he groaned.

“You can do that while I fix dinner,” Billy said, like it didn’t even matter that Billy could be the right size to open the doors in Steve’s LEGO haunted mansion. It was hard to focus on his math worksheet for that and a lot of other reasons, like Steve got addition, it made sense, he didn’t need to think to remember what 2+3 was, and also Billy was cooking, and that was hard to ignore.

He was making mashed potatoes, and Steve was girding himself to eat them, watching Billy frown around the kitchen and then shove the potatoes in the blender, click it to make it go, and listen to it struggle. Billy turned it off again and glanced worriedly back at Steve, who pretended to be working very hard on his worksheet.

The fridge door opened, and Steve tried to watch surreptitiously—and sure enough, Billy had figured out that the blender needed liquid, and he was pouring Steve’s dad’s kombucha-cola into the blender with the potatoes.

Steve tried not to grimace, but then Billy sniffed it, made a face, and pushed two pickles into the mess, and he couldn’t help asking “Um, what do you eat?”

“What,” Billy hissed, turning to hide the blender from Steve with his body. “I eat—food. You’ve seen me!”

“You, uh, I think maybe you didn’t used to,” said Steve, watching the greyish-greenish color the mashed potatoes were turning with fascination. “So, um…”

“I’m not hurting anybody,” Billy said, hunching his shoulders like Steve might think maybe he did, and Steve scoffed, turning to a worksheet page on using ‘a’ or ‘an’ in sentences, which was even worse.

“I know you aren’t,” he told Billy, rolling his eyes, and Billy laughed, relaxing a little. “What d’you eat, though?”

“...I don’t…” Billy trailed off, grimacing. “I don’t eat like you do.”

“Oh,” Steve nodded, watching his face hopefully, and then frowning at the worksheet. “Are you like a tree?”

“...sort...of,” Billy muttered, rubbing his face, and Steve realized Billy was turning red. “When I...make people...happy, it’s like...sun. For a...tree. In a...way.”

“You make me happy all the time,” Steve told him, and Billy made a face, turning redder, and Steve let himself look away from the worksheet, trying to remember whether ‘y’ was a vowel. He watched the wet, brownish-greeny-grey potatoes whirling soupily around in the blender. “I mean, except for sometimes when you won’t look up recipes online.”

“They’re impossible to fuck up,” Billy moaned, grabbing his phone, and frantically typing. “I can’t mess up mashed potatoes, Billy, nobody can mess up mashed potatoes—”

“Whoever said that didn’t know you’re not human,” Steve told him, “—because that’s, uh.”

Billy switched the blender off, sighing heavily as he stared at the slow bubbles rising through the muck. “...cereal?” he offered, defeatedly.

“Cereal is good,” Steve said, guessing that ‘an’ was correct and writing it in, and Billy groaned.

“How about I have Mr. Johnstone remember you when he’s taking his cookies out of the oven, and bring you some?” Billy asked, and Steve brightened.

“How come you can’t make me want to do my homework,” he huffed, and Billy paused, frowning over at him.

“Is that what you...want?” he asked.

“....no,” Steve said, because Billy’s eyes were smoking, a little, for the first time in months, and also it did sound kind of weird. “...have you...ever?”

“Ever what,” Billy said, staring at him, and starting to pour Steve’s milk on the counter, instead of into a bowl.

“Billy! Bowl!” Steve yelped, pointing, and Billy grabbed a bowl, fumbled it, and then dropped it, so it smashed all over the kitchen floor.

“Fuck,” he hissed, waving his hand, and the glass pieces all flew up to be a bowl again. Billy leaned back against the counter, his shoulders slumped, rubbing his face.

“...wow,” Steve whispered, because Billy rarely did anything obvious, it was always ‘Oh, no, Steve, you didn’t leave your new baseball cap at the zoo, I have it right here,’ or ‘Of course your dad will come out for dinner with you, kiddo,’ and then the wi-fi failed, and he did. “I just mean, um.”

“What,” Billy sighed.

“When I had the flu, did, uh, did you...make me sleep?” Steve asked, because he’d wondered about that one, waking up to his parent’s panicked faces in the hospital. “Until I felt better?”

“You told me to,” Billy said, watching his face. “You said.”

“...only if I asked,” Steve said, nodding slowly, and Billy nodded a couple times, faster.

“Only if you tell me to,” Billy nodded. “Mr. Johnstone always means to bring you cookies anyway, I’m just reminding him, is all—”

“How come you don’t use it to do the laundry, and...things,” Steve asked, since Billy was answering, and Billy laughed.

“I could,” he said, shrugging. “You need to know how to do it too, though, right? This way, we can do it together.”

“...did my mom…” Steve began, remembering the long-ago commercial, and making a face as he imagined Billy ordered to pour something over his own head. “...does my mom...have your...lamp? Is that...is that why you have to listen to me?” Billy opened his mouth, frowning, and Steve shook his head. “I-I know you said it’s not a lamp, but—”

“...I don’t have to do what your mom says,” Billy told him, cocking his head.

“...just me?” Steve asked, and Billy leaned back against the cupboards, crossing his arms.

“...yeeeah,” he said, warily, and Steve breathed a sigh of relief, nodding, and kicking his feet under his chair as he thought.

“Do…” he began, and trailed off, and Billy came over and sat down at the table, raising his eyebrows.

“Spit it out, kiddo.”

“...my magical people encyclopedia,” Steve started, then paused, trying to figure out how to continue. “...it, uh, it says to...it says not to..ask for things.”

“What did you want to ask for, Stevie?” Billy asked, with a long, contented sigh, folding his arms behind his head as he leaned back in his chair. He sat his feet on the chair next to Steve, grinning.

“No, no, I don’t—I don’t...want anything,” Steve said, and Billy sat his boots on the ground again.

“What’s wrong, buddy,” he asked, sitting up to reach across, and squeeze Steve’s hands. Billy’s hands were twice as big as Steve’s, and Steve always felt safe, when Billy held him, but he shut his eyes. “It—it says if you ask for things, there’s always a...price. It says—not money, but—it—it can go wrong, I might—forget someone, or they might...forget me, uh,” Steve paused, swallowing, as Billy’s hands on his went still. “Somebody wished for their dead son back, and he came back but he wasn’t alive, or...or she wished for treasure, but then she got arrested for stealing it…”

Billy smiled, a little, but not like anything was funny. “...oh,” he said, finally.

“It—the book said not to just...wish for things, if you didn’t know how you were...paying,” Steve mumbled.

“I’m not a monkey’s paw,” Billy growled, “—or a like, a fae lord, I’m not tricking you out of things you want, I’m not going to steal your memories, or your name, or anything—”

“Tommy doesn’t wanna be my friend anymore,” Steve said, his voice wobbling a little, because he hadn’t had a lot of people who really liked him, until Billy.

“Tommy’s a little shithead,” Billy muttered, but Steve talked over him.

“...if I have to...pay something to be friends with you,” Steve said, thinking about how his parents barely knew he was there, and whether they ever had, or whether he only remembered them that way, “—is—is that—”

“Shit, no,” Billy breathed, shoving away from the table and stomping over to lean against the sink again. “I didn’t—fuck, there’s nothing I can say, is there, I could have done anything, you can’t believe me—”

Steve blinked wide eyes at the words Billy was using, glancing up the hallway in case his mom or dad came around the corner. “Ssssh,” he whispered. “Sshh, I believe you! Don’t say the f-word, you’ll get in trouble!”

“Who cares, right,” Billy hissed. “I can just make them forget it, right?!” He looked really upset, Steve registered, kind of relieved, even though he’d known Billy was his friend, really. Billy looked like he might cry, and Steve got up from the table, and went over to hug him around the waist.

Even if Billy had taken his friendship with Tommy in trade for wishes, or something worse, Steve thought, it’d probably be worth it. “...I didn’t mean…” he sighed. “I know you wouldn’t...on purpose.”

“What’s that mean, on purpose,” Billy asked, disentangling himself from Steve’s hug, but just to pick him up. Steve hugged him again, around the neck, and messed Billy’s hair up the way Billy always did Steve’s. Billy laughed softly.

“...you’d make sure I wanted to pay for the wish. You wouldn’t do anything that made me sad on purpose,” Steve said, sighing. “I know you wouldn’t.”

“...sad, no,” Billy told him, squeezing him harder. “Mad, maybe. You aren’t paying for wishes, kiddo. If you want Honey Grahams because I’m a shitty cook and I ruined lunch, I’m not going to steal your memories.”

“You wouldn’t take away somebody liking me,” Steve whispered, and Billy rocked him a little, sighing.

“Nope.”

“Mom and Dad never liked me, it wasn’t you,” Steve mumbled, and Billy froze. “You didn’t take that.”

“Oh, jesus, kidlet,” he said softly. “Of course they...do,” he said unconvincingly.

“They don’t,” Steve sighed. “But you do.”

“Yeah,” Billy told him, swaying Steve a little, and rubbing his back. “You’re my favorite.”

“Favorite what?” Steve asked, giggling, and Billy hrrrm’d.

“Favorite everything,” he whispered, lifting Steve way high up so he could put his hands on the ceiling, and swinging him around while Steve laughed.

Next Chapter!

#Harringrove #Demon!Billy #Summoner!Steve #Friendship #Kidfic #Billy ends up babysitting basically #They're friends

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