#marvel x you

[lives-in-midgard]

"Who's afraid of little old me?"

"You should be"

[rogersideup]

｡°✩ ♊︎ The Gemini♊︎ ✩ °｡

Chapter 10

Star Crossed Lover

Series Masterlist

Previous Part: True Romantic Next Part: Promotion

Word Count: 10,607 (I am SO sorry lol)

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of violence, blood, and injury. Allusions and discussion of suicide attempts. Please proceed with caution and and good judgment for your own personal mental health 💞

The drive to your team welcoming at the winery made 45 minutes of highway feel simultaneously far too long yet excruciatingly short.

After what happened in the corridor, you really didn't have much to say. The only words really spoken between you and Steve was you thanking him for getting the car door for you, then him insisting that you played your music.

After a few minutes on the road, Steve stole a few quick glances at you to try and gauge how you were really feeling, but your head was leaned all the way back against the headrest, and your eyes were always either closed or staring absentmindedly on the scenery around you.

He took no offense, in fact, he was glad that you were calm at the very least. Deep down he knew you were always feeling at least a little worse- if not a lot worse than you expressed to anyone. But like always, there was a time and place to address issues. Pulling into a parking spot at the winery and putting his car into park was not the time, nor the place.

Taking a quick peek through his rearview mirror, he could see a few special guests had already arrived, and he could only hope it would help ease the distress you never deserved to have inflicted on you.

Steve turned to you with an empathetic grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Last chance to run away?"

You turned your head to look at him with a lazy smile, and an unexpected giggle. "I can't run in these shoes."

"If it gets too overwhelming, you know I'll be here. Just tell me, I'll sneak you away for a bit of fresh air." He reminded you.

"You're making me feel like I'm about to be eaten alive" You raised your eyebrow.

Steve shook his head. "No, you're not. I've been on this team for so many years I stopped counting and even I still get overwhelmed by all of them sometimes. Things like this can be a lot even on a perfectly good day."

"I'm guessing I'll relax after a glass of wine or two" You reassured him and yourself. "It'll be like nothing ever happened, nobody even has to know."

That sent red flags raising high in Steve's head. Now he knew for sure you were in worse shape than you were letting on.

"Bug," Steve shot you a serious glare. "You can be sad, it's okay to be sad."

"I'll be sad later." You surrendered. "Right now I'm so happy and honored to be part of such a welcoming and supportive team. We're all going to have a wonderful night, and everything is going to be fine."

"Promise me right now that after this is over you'll cut the bullshit and stop telling me you're fine." Steve held out his pinky to you. All you did was narrow your eyes at him, you knew he could read you like a book far below his intelligence level, and it was equal parts endearing and frustrating. "We both know that's a lie, and we both know there's no reason for you to have to go through any of this alone anymore. We both know this is the beginning of the end of all of your suffering, and should it get worse before it gets better, you have a whole team of people who want to help you and be there for you."

"Fine." With an internal defeat, you wrapped your pinky around his. "I'll be sad later, but only if you get me a glass of wine while I socialize so I don't seem like a bitch for booking it to the bar."

"Great" Steve smiled, shaking your intertwined pinky fingers, locking in the deal. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"This is the worst deal ever." You shook your head with a smile on your face while reaching for the car door handle.

An immediate gasp full of personal offense left Steve faster than you anticipated, and you got ready for the fight you two had nearly every time you got into a car together. "Do not reach for that car door ma'am."

"Twinkles, I have two fully functioning arms and legs. I can open my own car door." You made the same argument you've made a million times before.

"Just because you can, doesn't mean you should." Steve shook his head at you, his face full of disappointment. "Stay right there before I put the child safety lock on the passenger side of the door."

"Logistically, it'll take more time for you to get out, walk around, open my door, wait for me to get out, then close my door than if I were to just get out on my own." You laughed.

“Yeah well, logistically, this reoccurring argument takes a lot of time as well yet you always seem to want to spark it." Steve spoke as he got out of the car, his door closing behind him. Very quickly making his way to you, he opened your door and offered you his arm to help you out. "See, didn't take that long. Look, this is an unpaved parking lot and you're wearing a pretty high heel which means you could've tripped and fallen and broken an ankle, and it would've been all my fault."

"How could you possibly sleep at night?!" You agreed sarcastically as you got out of the car, and he closed the door behind you.

"I never do." Steve noted. "This is why I have insomnia."

"Too many women and too many unpaved parking lots in this world." You agreed, walking with him towards the entrance. "We really need to contact someone about this."

It didn't take long to enter the beautiful outdoor space that was far too big to be reserved just for the team. You immediately felt like you were the main character of a hallmark movie, strings of twinkling lights shined above your head, the grounds were well maintained, full of plants, tables, and even a dreamy gazebo that was also illuminated by strings of lights.

There were candles lit along pathways and atop the standing tables, booths open that served food, and no less than 20 different wine options, and a whole bunch of friendly faces that all started clapping and cheering when you walked in.

Definitely not expecting that much immediate   attention, your cheeks widened into a smile and deepened in color before your hands moved up to hide your face. It only took a few moments before you were brave enough to peak through your fingers to recognize faces you didn't quite expect to be there.

All you expected were the avengers that lived in the compound or near by, but to see faces like Thor, Clint, and even that Spider-Kid who definitely was not 21 and was out passed his bedtime was a pleasant surprise.

Another pleasant surprise was the sweet faces of your mom and dad, sister and brother in law, and a handful of your friends from back home.

Your hands dropped from your face and showed off your full toothy smile and pink cheeks that Steve loved so much it made his heart skip a beat.

It nearly dropped out of his chest and deep into his stomach when you turned to him. "Did you invite them?"

"Of course I did" Steve nodded with a cheeky smile. "I wanted you to feel more comfortable, and you deserve to be celebrated by your family too, not just ours."

Much like earlier in the day when he gave you the suit, your arms flew around him fast and tight. It was shorter this time due to the audience, but Steve still loved it nonetheless. "Thank you so much, you're so sweet."

"You're very welcome" Steve smiled. "I'll go get us some wine like I promised, but I do feel like I need to say hello to your family first considering I've been texting them to arrange this. But I'll be quick!"

"I have so many questions" You raised your eyebrow at him.

"Save them for later!" Steve told you while walking straight towards your parents.

With full trust that nothing chaotic would happen in that interaction, you scanned faces once more and realized Bucky and Nat were missing. You knew why, but it made your happy mood deflate again until Thor was the first of the bunch to walk up and introduce himself.

You made your way through Bruce, Carol, and even said hi to Maria Hill regardless of the fact that you worked with her many times before.

Steve did make it to you with a glass of wine in each of his hands between your interactions with people. "Here you go, Bugs. Not quite sure what this wine is but I told the nice girl at the bar you liked white wine so she poured you her favorite."

"You're the best." Your cheers your glass against his.

"Ugh, I know right?" He agreed sarcastically, drinking down a grin with a sip of red.

Your quick interaction with Steve made your family approach you to celebrate, but he definitely wanted you to have your time alone with them so he slipped away just as fast as he came.

Lots of hugs, lots of chatting, then lots of them pushing you away to go hang out with the Avengers.

Somewhere between Peter Parker and more time with Sam, a quick scan of the crowd had you realizing that now the Avengers were co-mingling with your family and friends. Oh, and Bucky and Natasha finally got there 45 minutes into the actual event.

Lost in conversation with Scott Lang about the most recent episode of that one sitcom he so happened to bring up, a pair of forearms wrapped around you from behind.

You pretty much expected it to be anybody but Natasha, but you were pleasantly surprised that she was already so comfortable with you. "Sorry we're late, but Rogers' mess is cleaned up and you'll never see it again. Also, you look hot in that dress."

There was no chance to thank her or apologize for the mess as she quickly galavanted off into the crowd.

Scott was pulled away from you about 10 minutes later, and your glass became empty of wine. Feeling mildly confident at this point that you had at least introduced yourself and greeted everyone there, you felt comfortable enough to go get a refill on your own.

Another heavy pour and you were back out. Conversation flowed a lot easier than expected between the groups you found yourself in. There was always something to talk about, laughter was a common occurrence, but somehow the mess in the corridor kept seeping into your mind no matter how hard you tried to push it down.

Eventually Bucky found his way to you, and somehow the comfort of one of your best friends helped quiet down all of the unnecessary noise in your brain.

In true Bucky fashion, he approached with plenty of food in hand. Setting a full wood fire pizza on the table, he pushed the whole tray towards you.

"You haven't been eating enough for someone at an event with free food" He noted.

"Hello to you too" You grinned, taking down another big gulp of wine.

"Steve told me you were worried about me." Bucky's face softened.

"I'm always worried about you, that's what friends are for." You agreed with Steve's statement.

"You know what that agent said about me tonight is nothing but water off a ducks back." He reassured you. "But what he said about you is what bothered me. That is what I take personally, and that's what I can't let anyone get away with."

You sighed. "What did you do, Buck?"

"Nat fired him, we both got him on some gnarly lists to ensure he's going to have a hard time finding another job." He explained. "I think Steve did enough damage that the dumbass will probably never reproduce, which is probably a blessing to the next generation. We didn't help him up though, he can figure that out himself."

"Don't you think that's a bit harsh?"

"If it was up to me. I wouldn't have left it at just his balls, but I digress" Bucky shrugged. "I'm really happy you're back, Buggy. I've been smiling all day knowing you're here."

"Well for what's it's worth, I'm sorry people have been saying rude things about you because of me, and I'm happy to be here to hopefully get back on the right foot. I missed you and Steve a lot these past couple of months."

"It's not your fault, so I'm not accepting that apology." Bucky denied. "But I will accept a hug because I missed you too."

"Tough crowd." You grinned before wrapping your arms around him and leaving them there for a while.

Then, he started whispering in your ear. "This was a trap I just wanted to gossip in peace"

You let out an uncontrollable laugh, starting to feel the effects the wine had on you. "What's up? What's the gossip?" You tried to whisper back but it was a little hard to get the words quietly past your smile.

"Has Steve kissed you yet?" Bucky asked in a dramatic whisper.

“No, I don't think he ever will." You denied. "But I just got back last night, give him some grace."

"I don't think he will either. He's really scared of you." He agreed with you. "Do you need me to yell at him for that? Or I can just kind've shove your faces together when I find the opportunity?"

He pulled another laugh from you. "No, it's okay. He's scared, he needs to go at his own pace."

"Have you admitted to yourself that you like him yet?"

"Unfortunately you knew that before I did, but yes, and I told him that too."

"Good, good." Bucky started to pull away from the hug, but your wrapped your arms tighter around him.

"Tell me about you and Nat now" You trapped him.

"Well I'm not a scaredy cat like Steve is so... Girlfriend."

You gasped with a smile and pulled back to observe his face. But it was obvious he wasn't lying to you, so you lit up once more. "I'm so happy for you!"

Raising your hand up for a high five, Bucky hit his metal palm against your hand.

From across the winery and under the gazebo, Steve watched this whole interaction between you and Bucky. He was pleasantly surprised when jealousy never rushed through his veins watching the two of you hug.

Thats when Steve realized how secure he felt with you now. He understood now more than ever that you and Bucky were purely platonic, and it was evident in the way you two looked at and touched each other. In fact, he even felt a sense of warmth and happiness watching you two have a secretive conversation that wasn't so slick. Maybe it would've been a little more discreet had you been a bit more sober, but he found it endearing nonetheless. He found himself feeling hopeful that soon enough the three of you really could smooth over the damage and go back to hanging out together, a notion that once felt impossible.

He was even happier when he saw the both of you take a slice of pizza, cheers, then eat together.

After that, he stopped watching. He was so content knowing that Bucky was keeping an eye on you. Maybe that's where he overestimated his false sense of security, because along with the pizza, Bucky brought you another glass of wine which only meant you were feeling sillier and more socially confident by the second.

At some point Steve fell deep into conversation with your dad, they were getting along so well, in fact, he hadn't even noticed that he spent about a whole hour and a half alone under the fairy light illuminated gazebo with him. They also didn't notice that you were getting along with the team so well it's like you were always part of the little family to begin with.

He didn't catch you and your sister flipping each other off from across the venue as often as you could, he didn't see the way you and Peter made a secret handshake, or even when you exchanged phone numbers with Bruce. He missed Sam making you laugh so hard you nearly peed your pants, then you, Nat, and Wanda disappearing to the bathroom for a solid ten minutes then coming back with your lipstick magically perfect again.

He also missed your fourth glass of wine.

But that was pretty obvious when you walked out of the bathroom and into the social event, scanning the intimate crowd to try and spot anyone to engage in conversation.

Thats when you noticed your mom batting her eyelashes and giggling in a one on one conversation with Tony, while your dad was batting his eyelashes and giggling under the gazebo with Steve.

A bit wobbly on your feet, you walked over to them and held onto the wooden entrance as you stepped up. Both of their attention was drawn to you from their spot on a bench.

You squinted your eyes at your dad. "Hello, Father."

"Daughter" He raised an eyebrow at you.

Steve didn't know where this interaction was about to go, so he observed carefully. 

"Steve, is this strange man bothering you?" You asked him.

Steve laughed as your dad reached over to you and flicked the side of your head, you remained unfazed. "Not in the slightest."

"She's drunk" Your dad told Steve while covering your ears.

"I'm not drunk, I'm silly and perhaps a bit goofy, but I am not drunk." You grabbed your dad's wrists and pulled his hands off your ears. "My sobriety should be the least of your concerns at the moment."

"Why is that?" Your dad asked.

"Tony Stark is flirting with your wife." You pointed to your mom and Tony.

Steve followed your pointed finger and saw that you were actually right, and that made him laugh. "That's really concerning."

Your dad sighed. "So what? I have to fight Iron Man now? You chose to be a superhero and now I have to fight Iron Man for your own Mother?"

"Get used to it." You stuck your tongue out at him.

He stuck his tongue out right back at you before turning to Steve. "Please excuse me, I need to rescue my wife."

"By all means" Steve agreed.

When your dad walked off and you were alone with Steve, you sat down right next to him and pulled his arm around your shoulders before you closed your eyes and rested your head on him.

You didn't see his smile as he pulled you as close as he could and rubbed the top of your arm. "How are you doing?"

"Cold, tired, feet hurt." You mumbled. "Drunk"

"I thought you said you weren't drunk?" Steve quipped happily.

“Well, you're not my dad so you get to know the truth." You snuggled into him. "More truth, you smell really nice, and I just need to sit here for a little while."

A giggle escaped Steve from your confessions. "Are you having fun?"

"More fun than I thought" You nodded. "I'm so warm and fuzzy inside. It's been so long since I've felt happy like this."

That wiped the smile clean off of Steve's face. "I'm so happy that you're happy. It'll keep getting better, I'll make sure of it."

"I wish it could just be like this all the time." The feelings you never talk about spilling out of your mouth. "Life could be so good, and I really love it sometimes. I just don't know how to not take what other people do to me personally. You and Bucky are so good at that."

"You're good at everything you do, and life is about to get so much better for you, sweet girl. I promise."

"I'm trying really hard to believe you." You smiled. "I probably sound sad, but I'm happy right now. 'M always happy when I'm with you."

"You can stay with me however long you want, I'm happy with you too." He squeezed your shoulder.

"How did you guys plan such an elaborate event when nobody even knew if I would agree to be an avenger or if I would even be back at the compound today?" You asked.

"We used magic and our intuition" He said with a smile.

"You are so magical" Your alcohol influenced mind marveled. "And who in my family have you been communicating with because that's so magical"

"Your sister and your mom" Steve giggled at your question. "Your family is very nice and really fun to be around."

"Did my dad tell you embarrassing stories about me?"

"Surprisingly, no he didn't."

"Good, good. Let's keep it that way."

Closing your eyes, you let the wine and Steve's body heat relax all your muscles and wash the tension away. Unsure of how long you had actually been there, there was a point in which you could feel Steve shift to look at an approaching person.

An uncontrollable laugh escaped your intoxicated mind as whoever Steve was looking at sat on the other side of you and snuggled into your body the same way you were snuggled up to Steve, but for some reason you still didn't want to open your eyes.

"Wow, this is lovely" The voice said. It sounded like Sam, but you couldn't be too sure.

"Hey, I want in on this too" Sounded loudly from far away. Footsteps came running, and Maria plopped onto Sam's lap sideways. She kicked her legs over your and Steve's laps.

Slowly but surely, more Avengers, family and friends ended up under the gazebo with you and Steve. The cuddle pile grew with Scott and Nat, and lasted longer than it probably should've.

You were fed enough food by pretty much everyone while you all drunkenly told stories and laughed so hard that your stomach hurt that you eventually sobered up.

Once you were sober again, you realized just how fast time had flown by and were sad to hug your parents goodbye. You're pretty sure your mom hugged and your dad fist-bumped nearly every single person at the event, but that was neither here nor there.

Eventually everyone said goodbye, and by the time you got back into Steve's car it was already almost midnight. And by the time you got home and into Steve's bed, all of your energy was more than depleted. Social battery was in the negative, but you felt like you had been plugged into a high speed charger when he got under the covers next to you.

"How are you feeling?" That seemed to be everyone's favorite question to ask you.

"I kind've feel like you right now" With your eyes closed, your laid on your back with one arm above your head and the other resting over your hoodie on top of your belly.

Steve giggled "what is that supposed to mean?"

"I feel like I'm going to throw up."

"Any particular reason why?"

"I ate too much, drank too much wine. I'm bloated but happy so it's a small price to pay." You explained.

"Well if you're going to throw up, aim in that direction" Steve smiled and pointed in the opposite direction of himself. "Are you still drunk? Do you need some water?"

"No I'm not, I'm okay" Your smile barely ghosted your lips. "Just need some sleep."

Steve reached over and pulled some blankets over your frame before poking your cheek. "Remember what you promised me earlier?"

Your eyes opened to look at him. "I feel better, really. I do."

Steve sighed. "You don't even want to talk about it?"

"What is there to say?" You questioned. "All the same shit, different day. There's nothing I can do about that anymore."

"When this all first started, you were getting sent to my office nearly every day for fighting back, but tonight you kind've froze up. Why?"

"I wasn't expecting anyone to do that to me when I was with you." You answered. "But it's done now, it's fine."

"We both know it's not done" Steve's face softened. "And avoiding it doesn't make it go away."

"Would you like me to rewind time and kick him in the balls instead?"

"No, I just want you to know you can talk to me." Steve emphasized.

"I'm pissed off." You admitted. "I'm always in a state of being angry that this is the environment that I have to learn to thrive in every day, but I've also reached a state of emotional exhaustion that makes me feel like I have no room left to be even more angry than I already am. I've hit max capacity, so I'm choosing to stay as calm as I can because out of all the kicks and punches I've thrown, none of them have worked before. I have no reason to believe it'll work now."

“It's not fair." Steve huffed like kid.

"It never has been." You agreed with a shrug. "But you don't need to hold onto that anger for me. I'm trying to let go of it and move on."

"I'll let go of my anger in the form of making change." Steve told you, now feeling brave enough to pull you close to him.

You snuggled up close, your head on his bicep and your arm holding him gently. "I'm an avenger now. That's all the change I know how to make at the moment."

"I'm so proud of you" he practically whispered. "But I've never met anyone like you before."

"You really need to work on providing context before sentences that might hurt my feelings"

Steve chuckled at your bluntness. "You're telling me that you're happy, but you're also telling me that you're sad. Both of those statements feel genuine, so I don't really know where your mind is."

"Well then imagine how complex and confusing it is to be me" You emphasized. "Never in my whole life have I felt more alone while also feeling more loved than ever. I'm happy and sad, I just accomplished something most people never will by becoming an avenger yet I've also never felt more like a loser. This is the first time I've ever been relentlessly bullied but it's also the first time I've ever been a superhero so I guess the juxtaposition of my emotions is just turning my brain into scrambled eggs."

"Have you tried compartmentalization?" Steve offered with a grain of salt.

"I tried that once, I think I created too many emotional categories and got overwhelmed." You smiled. "But I'm a Gemini, so these complexities have been written in the stars for me since the moment I was brought onto the earth. I think I was born for the very purpose of the universe testing to see if overwhelming contradictory emotions could physically kill a human being."

"One of my greater purposes in life is to protect people against the things that could kill them, so you're in good hands right now." Steve slowly rubbed your back. "Overwhelm will not be your cause of death. Actually, nothing will be. I'm trying to convince Banner to make clones of us to be kept in cryofreeze that way when we die of old age, new versions of us can just be thawed out so we can be best friends forever."

"Spoken like a true cancer" You laughed, patting his chest. "Did I uphold my end of the promise?"

"We can call it even, but I'll always be concerned"

"Even Stevens!" You sleepily enthused.

"Are you rhyming or was that a reference to something?" You could hear his amusement.

"Both, you're a little too old to understand that one."

"That's really rude" Steve faked offense.

"Thanks for coming to my rescue, Twinkles. I know you think you didn't do much, but it means a lot to me when I know I have someone on my team."

"I'll always be on your team, you've always been worth the fight." Steve reminded you.

Those words comforted you enough to ignore your very full stomach and fall into a deep sleep in the hold of your favorite soldier's big protective arms. Unfortunately the universe loved to hate you, because you only got your share of the superhero until about 4am when his phone started ringing effectively waking both of you up.

A few curse words slipped out of his mouth in complaint before he reached for his phone and answered it. You didn't pay much attention to the phone call itself, but you did find it within your lack of  consciousness to move nearly your entire body onto his in attempt to keep him forever. Snuggling into him belly to belly, his hand found the back of your head and played with your hair as you slipped in and out of sleep.

By the time the phone call ended, you had effectively caged him between the mattress and your body. Realizing what you had done, Steve's cheeks burned as he let out a sigh.

"You can't go." You sleepily mumbled.

"You and I both know I don't really have any say in that." Steve reminded you apologetically.

"Says who? We all have free will."

"Unfortunately, the president of the United States. Apparently he requested to meet me for an urgent conversation about something that's happening somewhere." Steve explained.

"Damnit." You yawned. "I think the president has me beat in importance."

"I think the two of you are pretty equal in importance." Steve pondered. "The only difference is that people might die if I don't get out of bed."

"My soul will die if you get up, but it's fine, I understand." You joked dramatically.

"You're making it very hard for me" Steve complained, wrapping his arms around your back and squeezing you gently.

"If you're hard that's all the more reason to stay in bed." You joked, knowing damn well Steve wouldn't take a naughty joke like that very well.

And you were right, because the gasp that left his mouth was immediate and visceral. You didn't need to look at his face to know his cheeks were flushed pink and red hot. Your laugh was also pretty immediate and visceral as he used his body to flip you over onto the bed and propped himself up on his arm to lean over you. Pointing a finger at you like a dog, he had one word to say. "Bad!"

You laughed even harder as he shook his head at you. "I'm going to get up and get ready to meet the president, you stay here and think about what you just said."

Laying in bed alone, Steve eventually came to say goodbye to you. It was always sad to let each other go, but also an often occurrence. But this time he was hesitant to leave, of course you both knew why. Last night wouldn't be a one time event, but he encouraged you to stay close to Bucky, Nat and Sam as often as you could, and emphasized that there would be no timeline to his departure so he didn't know when he would be back. He also made it clear that should you need to defend yourself, you should do so with no hesitation.

Luckily, all was pretty smooth for a while. Your friendship with Nat bloomed faster than you'd ever expect it would, so for the first week Steve was gone the two of you were practically attached at the hip. Nat and Bucky spent a whole day helping you move from your old apartment up into the Avengers sector. Though it felt a bit pointless moving within the same building, the team felt better about keeping a protective eye on you when you weren't floors away from them. It was a nice change of pace to have a sense of community around you again.

The second week that Steve was gone, you tried to focus on building individual friendships with the team members outside of your little social circle. Your therapist also encouraged you to try and be brave enough to walk through the compound with a confident attitude so nobody would fuck with you, so you tried a few times on your own, a few times were nothing more than anxiety inducing, and a few times got you confronted with hostility which lead to 3 more agents getting fired by Natasha.

By the third week you finally got a phone call from Steve. It was nice to hear his voice and catch up and hear about what he had been up to for all this time, and it was especially nice to hear that he was wrapping up his work and he would be home soon. That same day you got to visit Jane and Luca over lunch at one of your favorite restaurants, then they helped you pick out a few new things for your new apartment.

Most kids acted as if a home store was cruel and unusual, but Luca was very opinionated about rugs and throw pillows. He even convinced you to get a new pair of sneakers at the clothing store he wanted to go to across the street from the compound.

Lots of therapy, lots of solo workouts, lots of team building, you were starting to feel mentally and physically stronger.

Strong enough to keep walking alone, and pushing forward no matter how hard it was.

When Steve landed on the runway after 3 whole weeks and a handful of days of being gone, he was so relieved to be back home. Without even making it off the jet he was already fantasizing about shaving the beard he unintentionally grew after forgetting his razor at home, a long shower and a long nap since it was only early in the afternoon and definitely not bedtime yet.

His fantasies continued as he stepped off the jet and into the building. Now he knew he wanted to see you before he knocked out for that nap he desperately needed. There would be some snacks at some point, and definitely no pants after the got out of the shower.

The sound of his boots on the sleek floor actually brought him joy knowing each step was one closer to you.

Like most fantasies, what he hoped and dreamed of was far from reality. Especially when a loud alarm sounded in the sector of the compound he was headed towards.

Stopping in his tracks and cringing at the sound, he waited for the code and location to be called out before springing into action. It could've been as simple as a knocked over vial in the lab, or complex as an invasion of an enemy. But when the code called out for aggressive physical conflict in the gym, Steve's heart sank and he started running as fast as he could.

He didn't want to believe it was you, but he couldn't be naive either. His racing heart and even faster legs carried him there faster than anyone else could. As he entered the doorway into the compound gym, he could hear the footsteps of a few sets of feet trailing behind him, but waiting for others arrival wouldn't slow him down.

Especially not when he entered the gym and it was completely empty besides two people, his heart sank even further when he recognized it was you, and the number on the back of the uniform of the other person was 212. Harvey.

No less than a billion racing thoughts came sped through Steve's mind, and none of the billion came together to form any good ideas. He swore all he saw was a blinding white and all he heard was his own heart beat in his ears as he sprinted through the equipment to get to where the altercation was happening.

The two of you looked like a cartoon before he went into fully protective mode. As he weaved through punching bags and stair climbers, he couldn't pick out where your body started and Harvey's ended. There might as well have been a big dust cloud around you, with puffs of air pluming out.

The consequences of putting himself in the middle of a fight wasn't even a thought in Steve's mind as he jumped over a treadmill and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and tried to pull you backwards, far away from Harvey.

Unfortunately, you were a little too preoccupied trying to save your own life to notice the alarm was sounding or that anyone was coming to save you, let alone Steve who you didn't even know was home yet. Assuming it was another attacker, one of Harvey's buddies helping him take you down, you forcefully thrashed and kicked yourself out of the Steve's grip. Adrenaline clouded your judgement, flight was nowhere to be seen as fight took over your every thought, you turned around and swung your fist right at him to earn yourself more time to knock Harvey down. You know you made pretty harsh contact considering there was a shooting pain buzzing through your knuckles, but at this point there was pain jolting through nearly every part of your body, so this wasn't going to slow you down.

Still not realizing what you had done, you watched Natasha sprint into the room and full body tackle Harvey to the ground, followed by a few other commanding officers, Sam, and Bucky. Trusting their ability to deal with Harvey and not let him touch you again, you turned back around to deal with whoever else was.

Fist balled, ready for a second swing, you looked up at the targets face, and devastation immediately took over the whole of your emotions. Steve blocked your punch and caught your wrist mid swing.

"Hey hey hey, it's me. It's just me" Steve frantically tried to get you to stop.

"Oh my god" You whispered to yourself as you realized you punched Steve right on his cheekbone, hard enough a bruise was already forming.

He watched you come to the realization of what you had done, your wrist was shaking in his hand, even more so as he loosened his grip and gently placed your arm down to your side.

You looked battered and bruised, but when he looked back at Harvey, it was clear that you had won this fight.

Looking at your wide eyes, he could tell you were in shock, and coming down from the copious amount of adrenaline coursing through your veins. He knew all too well what that felt like. Guilt, shame, the full effects of pain from the injuries sustained, the tremors and how weak your knees and thighs would get. He's been in your position far too many times before, he knew it was the worst feeling in the world.

Especially when your cheek was oozing blood, your arms were scraped up and bruised. Steve could tell the fight started with an unfair advantage.

Then, tears started pooling in your eyes as you looked at Steve's face and you opened your mouth but no words would come out.

"It's okay." Steve told you, very slowly reaching out to put his hands on your shoulders trying to snap your brain out of fight mode. "You're okay."

A tear fell down your cheek and your eyebrows furrowed before you muttered a quiet. "I'm so sorry."

"You didn't know" Steve shook his head. "You were just trying to protect yourself. You're okay, buggy."

You looked over your shoulder and saw Harvey on the ground. His face was a lot bloodier than yours. With eyes swollen shut and his nose definitely not in its usual form, you felt like a monster.

A sob escaped your throat, and your shaky hand flew up to cover your mouth before your eyes squeezed shut. "What did I do?"

"Everything is going to be fine." Steve reminded you, pulling your attention back to him.

His bruised face only made your sobs escape faster and your heart pound even faster. "I'm so sorry, Steve, I-I didn't mean to. I didn't know it was you."

"I know you didn't, you didn't even know I was home." Steve reasoned with you. "It's okay, just take some deep breaths for me."

You shook your head, still panting from the physical exertion. "I can't."

"You can't?" He questioned.

"I have to go." You took a big step backwards, Steve's arms fell back to his sides.

More concern than Steve ever thought was humanly possible took over his mind. "Where do you need to go?"

"I don't know." You sobbed. "I just need to go. I'm sorry"

Another two scared steps backwards, then you bolted out of the gym. Steve started making strides towards you, fully prepared to follow you but Sam approached him and stuck his arm out.

"You have to let her go on her own." Hand flat to Steve's chest, he stopped him. "She needs time to calm down and come to terms with what just happened. Trust that if she needs something, she will call you."

Steve's shoulders deflated. He wanted to go help, convince you to see a medic and have an emergency meeting with your therapist, but he also knew Sam was probably right.

With a big deep breath, Steve assessed the state of the gym. Realizing one of the treadmills was still on and going, he reached over the machine to stop it. Then a few commands slipped through his mouth while trying to organize his own brain.

He needed the security camera footage of the incident, he needed the alarm to stop, he needed a lab clean up crew to get rid of all the blood on the gym floor, and he needed Harvey handcuffed to the hospital bed he was bound to end up in. He was too tired to do any of that on his own, but luckily others were eager to get this taken care of too.

Just as he was no longer needed, Bucky approached and squeezed his shoulder.

"What's that thing on your face?" Bucky's nose scrunched up.

"She got me on accid-"

"I'm not talking about the bruise. I didn't even know you were capable of growing a beard" Bucky commented.

Narrowing his eyes, Steve glared at Bucky. "I forgot my razor."

"Respectfully," Bucky stated looking him up and down. "You look like shit, Pal."

"Thanks, Buck." Steve sarcastically smiled. He knew he looked disheveled and tired.

"Really, I think 66 more years of sleep would look good on you." He backhandedly tapped Steve's chest. "Go take a nap."

"I don't think I'll be able to sleep after she ran off like that." Steve sighed.

"We'll take care of her." Bucky reassured him. "We can always wake you up if need be, but her and Nat have grown really close. She has a lot of people in her court."

After about 10 more minutes of arguing with Bucky, he decided to just let him win under the conditions that he would keep him updated when he found out any new information.

Steve showered, shaved, and put on sweatpants and a shirt before getting into bed. He didn't want to wear pants, but he did it for your sake, just in case you came to find him. Realizing it had been about an hour since the incident, he tried calling you just to see if you would pick up, but he wasn't shocked when you didn't. So he sent you a text letting you know he was here for you when you were ready, then tried his hardest to get his mind to calm down enough to fall asleep.

It took an unfortunately short amount of time, as the second he laid down sleep hit him harder than your fist against his face, and he knocked out for so long that he woke up to the sound of his phone ringing, and it was now pitched black in his bedroom.

"Hello?" Steve mumbled into his phone.

"Jesus Christ, good morning sleeping beauty." Bucky said.

"Weren't you the one who told me to get some sleep?" Steve poked.

"Not important, glad you're back from the dead. I have some updates for you. Are you awake enough to process the words I'm speaking to you"

“I will be once I'm filled with rage over this situation again. What's up?"

"The security footage was recovered and I finally got to see it. It's enough evidence to land Harvey in jail for assault, so that's what Natasha is currently perusing."

Steve sat up in bed and reached for the lamp on the bedside table, blinking his eyes to adjust as it clicked on. "What happened?"

"She was alone in the gym, running on the treadmill and minding her own business. 212 saw her in there on her own, snuck in through the back door and yanked her off the treadmill. Her foot slipped off the end of the machine so he pushed her forward and scraped her face and arms against the moving belt, which is why she was bleeding. He was screaming some things at her but none of it is very clear. He tried kicking her a few times but she was able to get up and try to push him off of her, he persisted and she got fed up after he managed to get a swing at her collar bone and kicked her chin. She just... started swinging at him and didn't stop until you and Nat got them away from each other." Bucky explained.

"If this video can get him in jail, that would be great. But it can't be used if it's incriminating against her. We can't have that happen." Steve sighed.

"If anything, it's proof of self defense. You know Nat would never let anything bad happen to her. None of us would." Bucky reminded Steve. "It looked really painful on her end though. She ended up going to medical, but they released her a couple hours ago. JARVIS is telling me she's hanging out on the roof."

"Think I should go up there?" Steve asked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, already knowing the answer.

"Well I don't necessarily think she should be alone for much longer."

"I'll talk to you later then."

The call ended and Steve stood in front of the mirror to fix his hair, while trying his hardest to ignore how tender and swollen his cheek was now. Before making it up to the private roof access, Bucky sent him the video and it took everything out of him to not kill Harvey with his own two hands. But a deep breathing exercise helped him regulate his anger again.

When he got up there and made it to the top, he saw you laying beneath the stars on a blanket with your headphones on, quietly crying to yourself and hoping that the moon understood your pain.

You noticed Steve immediately, and took your headphones off before sitting up as he quietly sat down next you. Trying your hardest to be brave, your lip wobbled trying to contain the new wave of emotion you felt. No words needed to be exchanged as you gently reached up and cupped his bruised cheek into your palm. There was a physical pain blossoming in your chest as he wrapped you up into his arms, but butterflies fluttered in his stomach as you let one of your arms keep him close, and your hand stayed over his cheek.

You cried tucked into his neck for a little while as he rubbed your back and simply let you feel your feelings. After a little while he heard your small broken voice.

"I'm so sorry." You apologized again, bravely pulling away and moving your hand to inspect the damage you did to his face. "Are you okay? Does it hurt?"

"It's okay, Bugs. I'm fine. It was a dumb move on my part to grab you like that, if I was you I would've punched me too." Steve responded sincerely, taking in the burn-like scabs on your face down near your jaw. "Are you okay?"

"Could've been a lot worse." You nodded with a sniffle, really trying to convince yourself that you were okay. "I don't remember what happened, it all happened so fast I can't even recall specifics. I got scared and didn't want to hurt anyone else so I ran. I'm still trying to come down from that."

"I saw footage from the security camera, it wasn't good, Bug." Steve broke the news to you softly. "You did what you needed to do, and it was all within reason. There mere fact that you walked away with a few scrapes and bruises is a miracle."

"Did he sneak up on me?" You asked, Steve simply nodded in return with a sympathetic look on his face. "That's what I thought must've happened, that's also probably why I punched you so hard."

"If you need to see the video to help you process, I'll show it to you. But right now, I think it's best to just try and wind down."

In agreement, you made yourself comfortable next to Steve. You sat sideways nearly on his lap, with your legs thrown over his. His arm pulled you into his torso, and you rested your head onto your shoulder. Steve noticed your tiny winces as you adjusted to the new found pain and soreness in your body, but he tried his best to avoid all the spots he knew were injured.

“You saw a doctor right? Is everything okay?" He questioned, genuinely concerned.

You nodded. "Everything is pretty surface level, but apparently being slammed onto some heady gym equipment can bruise a rib."

"Bruised ribs are so painful" Steve's face scrunched up. "You're one tough cookie."

"I'm sorry this is what you came home to after being away for so long."

Steve was looking at you, admiring the way you looked under the moonlight, yet you couldn't keep your eyes off the stars. "I wish you didn't feel the need to apologize for things that aren't your fault."

"I'm working on that, and I don't anymore for most people. But for you? A million apologies wouldn't be enough. You're too sweet for this kind of nonsense."

"You are too, but out of all people you should know that I understand." Steve stressed. "In a lot of ways, we're very similar, Bug. I know what it feels like to be in the position you're in right now. You don't need to explain anything or apologize to me. I get it."

You tried to understand his words, but you really didn't. For a moment, you almost got upset with him for implying that anyone would treat him the way you've been treated around the compound. Steve was one of the most respected people in the world, you could barely earn the respect of a new hire agent. "I don't see anyone rushing to try and physically harm you for going on a run." You wiped tears from under your eyes.

"No, maybe not here." Steve agreed with you. "But way back when I first got the serum, I struggled really hard to earn respect from anyone around me."

"I have to admit, it's hard to imagine anyone disrespecting you."

Steve grinned and carefully brushed a few stray strands of hair away from your eyes. "I went from a 90 pound asthmatic who didn't have the strength to complete one push up to a human science experiment. I proved myself the very moment after I got the serum and it still wasn't enough for a lot of people. Thats why I was paraded around on that USO tour for so long, nobody thought I could handle fighting a war."

"You looked really cute in those booty shorts" you sniffled.

Steve chuckled at your statement. "Stop making me laugh when I'm trying to teach you a valuable lesson."

"I'd rather jump off this roof than not make you laugh" you smiled despite the contradictory tears.

"The point of this conversation is actually to make sure you don't jump off the roof." Steve informed you.

Your eyes moved from the stars to his eyes, they were both as equally beautiful and bright. "Is that what you're worried about? I would never-"

"Quite honestly, yeah, I am." He cautiously continued with a slight nod. "We see a more on a daily basis than anyone should see in their whole life, that alone is grounds for struggle but when you factor in everything else, I don't think that concern is far off."

Your tears fell faster at his statement. As a sad sob slipped past your throat and your eyes found the sky once more, Steve's heart broke knowing he hit the nail on the head. He also knew you wouldn't open up if you felt defensive about it, so he needed to take the scenic route to get you there.

"What's your favorite part about the stars?" Steve asked. "You seem to love looking at the sky when you're sad."

"Looking for constellations helps me stay calm and get out of my head" You explain with a sniffle. "They're hard to see in the city but it's better here upstate."

Steve looked up. "It's amazing to me that you can find constellations. All I see is each individual star."

You pointed at the brightest light. "That's Saturn, and these stars right below it make up the Aquarius constellation."

"It's crazy that the universe is so vast."

"That's another reason why I like the stars so much. With so much happening out there, it's a good reminder that everything down here is so tiny and insignificant in the grand scheme of the universe. Sometimes that makes me feel like I can keep going strong, like one day none of this will even matter."

"You really believe in astrology? I go back and forth. The stars are so far away, I struggle to understand how they can control so much of who we are." Steve pondered.

"I do believe in it." You nodded. "The moon controls our oceans, the tide is physical proof. Our bodies are made up of 60% water, and all of the other elements we're made up of were formed in the stars over the course of billions of years. It's hard for me to believe they don't have a say in what's going on down here."

"I've never thought of it that way." Steve grinned. "It's really magical when you put it like that."

"Maybe you're made up of more stardust than the average human considering your eyes seem to twinkle like they're already up in space." You noted. "It's magical, but it's also equally devastating to feel like the bad parts of your life are written into the stars."

"We need the not so great stuff to help us understand how amazing the good stuff is. Can't see the stars if the sun is out." For some reason, his perspective brought you comfort. It felt like the hug he kept you wrapped up in. "Maybe that's always why I've thought so highly of you. Despite the darkness you've continued to show excellence, and shine brighter than the rest."

"Then maybe I'm a supernova because sometimes I really do feel like I'm going to explode." You giggled at your own realization.

"Even then you'd still shine a million times brighter than the sun!" Steve enthused, big smile on his face. "But don't explode, black holes are terrifying."

"I won't. That's why I came up here. Avengers only access, don't have to worry about anybody else or the damn sprinklers."

"When I was in the Army, drawing was my version of looking at the stars. It was the only way I could really get my mind to quiet down." Steve explained. "Back then, I was miserable. All the army men hated me, I had recently lost my mom, and I thought I killed Bucky. The war was so horrific I didn't think I'd ever be able to recover from what I had to do or what I had to see, and I felt even worse for the innocent lives taken in the whole ordeal. So, when I knew that I could end it... I did."

"You're a hero because of it." You agreed, feeling a bit confused by his words.

"No, you don't understand." Steve denied. "The plane crash that got me stuck in the ice? I could've gotten out. There was a chance for me to jump out of the plane, but I didn't. I didn't see the point."

Your heart sank at the implication of what he was confessing to you, and all it wanted to make you do is just hold him tight and weep forever. But you knew that wasn't the point, you knew you just needed to keep listening.

"I can't say that I regret it, because had that never happened I would've never gotten to enjoy living a life I never imagined, and I would've never met you, or the Avengers." He explained. "But it made my life far more complicated, and at least once a day I imagine what my life would've been like had I just gotten myself to safety, and that imagining- the 'what's ifs?' is something I'd never wish upon anyone. I do know how you feel, and much like you know the moon controls the ocean, I know things will get better. All you need to do is believe it."

Your eyes momentarily squeezed shut to rid them of the tears blurring your vision. They dripped down your cheeks as you shook your head, and his brave vulnerability made you realize that you always loved him, but in this moment you had fully and irrevocably had fallen for him. It was as if there was no more questions in your mind, you couldn't even understand anymore why you hadn't been with him way before this whole mess. It consumed every single one of your emotions, you simply couldn't ignore it anymore.

"I would never, Rogers, never." You confirmed with a cry. "I can't lie, I've been pushed to thinking about it, but it made me realize that I couldn't do that to you, my parents, Luca. Nobody. I love you so much, and I really hate to hear that, but I'm really glad you're here."

"Maybe this is what was written in the stars." Steve reached his hand up and used his thumb to gently swipe tears off your cheeks. "Maybe all of this was meant to happen so that this moment, right now could teach you that no matter what happens, you'll always have people to catch you at the bottom should you feel like you have nowhere else to go."

"Or maybe the lesson is that the idea of our existences happening at the same time is so unlikely that we have no choice but to listen to the universe." You said quietly, almost coming to that realization in real time. "Maybe you were always meant to be mine."

Steve's heart nearly pounded out of his chest as you spoke those words, then, as you looked up at him and closed the distance between your lips, he felt like a supernova too. He was burning hotter and brighter than ever before when your soft lips connected to his, his chest was mere seconds away from exploding when you pulled away to examine his shocked face.

Trying to process what had just happened, the sound of your giggles at his twinkling eyes and blushed cheeks grounded him and pulled him right back down to earth.

"Wait hold on..." Steve clutched his chest.

"Are you going to throw up?" You asked, wiping the last of your tears off your face as your smile took over.

"I think I need to sit down." He stated, finally making eye contact with you.

Your laugh boomed once again. "You're already sitting!"

"Okay, then I need to lay down." He said, readjusting to lay down on your blanket.

Your smile persisted as you laid down next to him. Shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm, your hands intertwined. "This is better than you throwing up."

"Wait..." Steve spoke, looking up at the moon.

You turned your head to look at him. "What?"

"Again" He insisted, turning his head towards you too.

It took a lot of effort to contain your smile enough to kiss him, but you did, and it felt just as right as the first time. Keeping it short and sweet, it didn't take long for Steve to point to the stars.

"I like these bitches, they're being very nice to me right now" He smiled.

Admitting to how hard you laughed at his statement would simply be too embarrassing, but it was hard enough to yell at him for further irritating your bruised rib. "Now you can't get mad at me for calling you Twinkles."

"You can call me whatever you want, Love Bug."

Butterflies in your stomach erupted in flutters at his choice of nickname. "A cancer and a Gemini, who would've thought?"

Steve shrugged. "It works."

"What now?" You asked with a sigh, you didn't know if you were asking Steve or the stars.

"You fight your ass off in a trial against Harvey, you help us out in an investigation on him and everyone that's been tormenting you, you continue doing what you're amazing at, and you keep that beautiful smile on your face because all of this is about to change." Steve explained. "This was the fuel we needed to start a fire around the compound. It's enough to light the whole place up and change the status quo. By the end of it, it's going to improve the lives of every agent in the program, that's my vow to you."

All his words sounded appealing and genuine enough to believe them.

"Pinky promise?" You raised your pinky on the hand that wasn't already holding his.

"Pinky promise" He connected his pinky with yours, then kissed the back of his hand... then your forehead... then your lips.

He knew confidently, now more than ever, that his love for you transcended time and space. The laws of life, love, nature, and even the stars never applied to the connection you two shared.

Maybe it was fate, or maybe it was coincidence that the boy born in 1918 had a chance to fall so deeply in love with a girl who didn't live in the same era as him.

Or maybe everything did happen for a reason. Maybe your life was already mapped out in the stars, and all you had to do was find the right constellations.

You would always have infinite questions about the intricacies of the universe, but out of all the answers you are confident in, you knew two things for certain.

Steve was your North Star. So long as you had him to guide you, you always knew you'd be on the correct path. You'd always get where you needed to go, and he would always be there for you regardless of what season of life you were in.

He was your star crossed lover.

Next Part: Promotion

Taglist: @saranghaey @firephotogrl74 @selella @talesofadragon @ss28 @nekoannie-chan @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @spikeluv84 @crazyunsexycool @callmissrogers @xxxalicerogersxx @whore-for-chris-evans @em8rin @mulbsstuff @qalijahbydior @awkotaco24 @buckybarnessimpp @nicoline1998enilocin @buckystevelove @rogersbarber @mybuck @dbnightingale24 @ynstark @sincerelytlh @alexakeyloveloki @mrsevans90 @smhnxdiii @claralovescaptainamerica @hisredheadedgoddess28 @bigtreefest @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

[angelltheninth]

The Flirting Skills of Spiderverse Characters

Pairing: Peter B. Parker, Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy, Miguel O'Hara, Hobie Brown, Pavitr Prabhakar x Reader

Tags: fluff, crush, flirting, established relationship, kissing, confidence boost, secret identity

A/N: I asked myself if these characters have rizz and behold!

Peter does have pretty good flirting skills once you start dating. Until the he's a tiny bit awkward but not too much, he knows you already like him. His smiles are always a litte loopsided when he walks his fingers up your arm, to your cheek, watching goosebumps bloosom on your skin right before he kisses you.

Miles needs to look up pick up lines before he sees you. They don't help. Well they do but not in the way he thought. He mixes up his lines from how nervous he is but instead of messing up his chances with his crush, you end up liking him even more then you did before.

Gwen is a pretty good flirt once she becomes fond of you. In and out of the costume actually. In the costume more before you start to return her feelings but when she's sure you feel the same way she does hard on the flirting when she's outside of the costume and eases up while she's in the costume.

Miguel flirts like no other. Kissing your cheek, dipping down like you're in a dance, always pulling you to his chest while looking at you with the most smug grin on his face. How could he not with the reactions he pulls from you, all those yelps and dreamy sighs and mindmelting kisses you give him in return.

Hobie flirts without meaning to. He is naturally a very touchy, energetic guy so he makes your heart skip a beat without trying to. If he does try you're in real trouble. It was already hard enough to try not to kiss him while he was just a friend but now he's actually putting the moves on you. Worst of all he knows exactly what he's doing to you and he's not slowing down.

Pavitr is a smooth talker outside of the costume but not in it. When he sees you face to face his confidance goes up by a lot but when you're looking at him like you don't really know him, he falters. Always the one to put his arm around your shoulder and pull you into a kiss, smiling into it as you cup his jaw, silently asking for one more.

[buckyalpine]

Bucky can’t lie

A smutty thot. Imagine the avengers fucking around with a lie detector test, testing how well the super soldiers were trained. Steve failed instantly while stating his own name, blushing from embarrassment. Bucky was shoved into the chair next.

And he was disgustingly good.

The wires were attached to him within seconds, with questions flying left right and center. He crossed his arms over his chest with an eyeroll, answering the most ridiculous questions each person would throw at him.

"What the hell Barnes, there's no way, you can't be serious"

The super soldier smirked, while the others watched the needle scratch on the paper steadily, not a single signal indicating he was lying. It was going great until Tony's eyes lit up with a brilliant idea.

“Wait. Get y/n in here”

You sauntered into the room, scrunching your face seeing Bucky hooked up to the machine, while the rest of the team stared at him intently. The faintest uptick scratched onto the paper making Steve cock an eyebrow while Bucky's expression remained the same.

"What am I doing here and why's Bucky-

"Shh, just stand there. We're trying to see if we can get Bucky to fail a lie detector test. Alright, new question. Is there anyone in this room you've thought about naked" Tony asked while all eyes stared at Bucky, the soldier biting his lip.

"No"

"Hm" Tony nodded, continuing. "Is there anyone in this room you've thought about having sex with"

"What kind of questions are you asking, pervert" Bucky exhaled through his nose, his finger tapping against the seat.

"Just answer the question Barnes" Tony smiled sweetly, grinning when the needle already started to move a little higher than before.

"No"

The needle ticked higher making Bucky huff, ignoring the way his face heated up when you stepped closer to peer at the paper.

"Interesting. Slight deception detected there Barnes, you sure about that?"

"Yes" Bucky forced through gritted teeth, managing to keep the needle from jumping around too much.

"Here, let me" You smirked, pulling Tony away from the seat, gazing into the soldiers eyes while he threw you a cocky smirk.

"Think you can do better doll?" He sassed while you shrugged, the scent of your perfume already making hi sweat.

"Have you ever thought of kissing me?" The needle jolted before Bucky could even open his mouth, making the others screech while Bucky shook his head. "Liar"

"You ever thought about me naked? You like watching me out on the field?"

"No" Bucky's pulse raced, his pants starting to feel too tight, the test scribbling wildly.

"Okay this mf lying" Sam snorted while Bucky's flushed cheeks grew hotter.

"Really? You ever think about me on my knees for you? Sucking your cock?"

"No" The needle nearly jolted off the sheet, making Tony cackle, clapping his hands madly while Steve blushed and chuckled, torn between watching his best friend's walls crumble and running out of the room with your questions getting filthier and filthier.

"You think about cumming down my throat? having me swallow all of you, telling you how good you taste?"

"No"

"You think about having me naked on your bed, soldier? Moaning for you? Screaming your name?"

"You think about stuffing me with your babies Jamie? Getting me pregnant with that serum running through your veins?"

"You want me to call you daddy baby? How about Sergeant"

"Do you want me to be your slutty baby, drip all over your cock"

"N-No" Bucky gritted out again while Sam threw his hands up.

"You're not fooling anyone dumbass, I think you broke the needle" The machine nearly gave way with a high pitched whizz matching Bucky's racing heartrate. You grinned, getting up from your seat, making him pant.

"Do I make you horny baby" You slinked onto his lap, making Bucky finally break his resolve, his hands flying to your waist.

"Fuck yes. C'mere" He hissed, ripping the wires off and tossing you over his shoulder with a spank while Tony peered over at the paper with a satisfied smirk.

"No lies detected"

[antiquarianfics]

You Have a Girlfriend?

So you get a little confused when you’re drunk? So what?

a/n: I saw a goofy little twitter post about this somewhere and ran with it. I’m goofy when I’m drunk, so, honestly? A very plausible scenario.

warnings: Mild language, alcohol consumption.

note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to copy, repost, or translate my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and/or reblog.

—

You’re sitting next to Bucky and across from Sam, and you are a little very drunk. The three of you chose to have a drink and talk after a long day of working on the Wilsons’ boat. The issue, however, is that Sam challenged Bucky and yourself to a drinking game, and you were desperately losing.

One thing about you is that when you’re drunk: you feel the need to tell everyone how much you love them. Another thing about you when you’re drunk: your memory sucks.

“Sam,” you whisper yell across the bow of the boat. “Sam. Sam. Sam.”

Sam raises an eyebrow at you when he turns his attention to you.

“I have a secret to tell you! No, two secrets!” You hold out two fingers in front of you.

Sam smirks. “What’s that?”

“One,” you hold up one finger, “I love you; you’re a good friend. Two,” you hold up a second finger, “your friend who’s sitting by me is really, really hot.”

Sam lets out a loud laugh, and you grin at his reaction.

“I love you, too, kid.”

Bucky is smiling fondly at you, watching you with love and adoration. He’s glad he can’t get drunk simply for the ability to take care of you while you let loose.

“I’m really, really hot, huh?” Bucky teases, and he laughs when you nearly get whiplash from turning to look at him.

Your eyes are wide as you stare at him. In your drunken state, you clearly didn’t expect him to hear your admission to Sam. You relax after a second, though, and smile at him.

“Yeah, you are. Y’know, I was wonderin’…” you trail off, getting distracted as you stare into his bright blue eyes. You let out a content sigh as you observe him.

“What were ya wonderin’, Doll?” He lets his hand rest on your thigh, rubbing his hand up and down comfortingly.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Your question is dead serious. There’s no hesitancy or joke in your voice, and Bucky finds it completely endearing. He chuckles as he stares at you, and you can faintly hear Sam lose his shit. You don’t pull your attention away from Bucky at all, though.

“I do,” Bucky informs you, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at your reaction.

Your eyes go wide, tears prickle at the corner of them. You swallow and wipe them away before doing your best to come up with a steady voice.

“Is it serious?” You question him.

“Very,” he smiles. “‘m gonna ask her to marry me.”

Generally speaking, Bucky wouldn’t have told you his plans, but he is fairly certain you’re not going to remember this conversation in the morning. And, if you do, he isn’t too concerned because he is so very serious.

You make no effort to hide your disappointment, and you let your tears fall freely this time.

“Oh, okay. She’s so lucky. Does she make you happy?”

“Happier than I’ve ever been.”

“Oh. That’s good.”

You’re obviously upset, and you’re obviously unaware Bucky is talking about you. Sam is trying not to laugh, but his wide grin betrays him. Bucky, however, finds himself more concerned than entertained when you start to actually cry.

“Doll, what’s wrong?” He wipes a tear away with his thumb, softly holding your face.

“No!” You push his hand away, eyes going wide. “You have a girlfriend! She wouldn’t want you touchin’ me!”

He laughs then. He can’t help it. After all, his girlfriend would very much want him to touch you. You always have your hand interlaced with his, or your body snugly tucked into his side, or your hand in his hair, or… The list goes on.

“Hey, don’t laugh.” You frown.

“Sorry, sorry. ‘s just that my girlfriend loves when I touch you.”

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.

“Why would she like for you to touch other women?”

Sam bursts into another round of laughter. He is struggling to breathe as he wordlessly points at the two of you, ignoring Bucky’s glare.

“Oh, Doll, she doesn’t. She hates it, really, and I never pay another dame a lick of attention. She’s the only one I’ve got eyes for.” He kisses your forehead, a form of punctuation to his assurance.

Your critical thinking skills, however, are formally shot.

“You’re lying! You’re paying me attention! And I’m not your girlfriend! What’s your girlfriend’s name? I’ve got to tell her you’re cheating. Girl code.”

Sam loses it again.

“Your girlfriend! You: cheating! Shit!” Sam barely manages to get a thought out. Bucky grins at his friend. He can’t deny that he is just as entertained by your antics.

He pulls out his phone, opening his contacts up to the one labeled “Dollface,” and hands it to you.

“Here,” he says, “call her.”

You nod and take his phone, hitting the call button and holding his cellphone to your ear.

A ringtone fills the night air and you frown when you feel a vibration in your back pocket. Clumsily, you pull your own cellphone out of your pocket and look down at the screen.

“JBB <3 is calling…” appears on your screen along with a candid photo of Bucky laughing.

You stare at it, and Sam and Bucky stare at you. You don’t do anything—don’t say anything, don’t move—until the call goes to voicemail. Finally you look up at Bucky.

“Why’d it call me?”

“Y/N, you’re my girlfriend,” Bucky finally says.

Your face breaks into a wide grin.

“No shit!”

—

“I wasn’t that drunk!” You insist the following morning.

Sam and Bucky exchange a look before laughing.

“Kid,” Sam says once he’s calmed down enough. “You asked Tin-man if he had a girlfriend and cried when he said yes.”

Your eyes go wide as you turn to Bucky for confirmation.

“You did, Doll,” he says, smiling.

You stare for a moment before shrugging and turning back to your coffee in front of you.

“Y’know what? That’s a totally reasonable reaction,” you say, leaning back into Bucky as he situates himself behind you and plants a loving kiss in your hair.

[nouearth]

a sticky situation.

peter parker x male reader.

summary: peter has a major crush on his roommate: you. everything unravels when he walks in on you changing.

wc: 4.1k. genre: smut. warnings: holland!peter, sub!top peter, voyeur!peter, college!au, dry-humping, grinding, frotting, handjobs, kissing, peter's first time, dubcon, cumplay, peter and reader are shooters, characters are aged up!

a bite of the cold air shuddered your damp and nude body once you stepped out of the bathroom, cataloguing the tidiness of your shared bedroom after. your shoulders tensed when the heated air and cold draft clashed for an estate of your body. but by the way your muscles eased into the green towel around your waist, you’ve figured which side won the war. a warm cheer to victory buzzed in your head.

god, did i luck out with peter… 

you found yourself repeating that observation often these days. it’s only been two months into the semester, but you’ve already concluded that peter was leagues better than your previous roommate. though, the bar was low—he was kind of a homophobe. that guy was a walking proof of evidence that opposites, in fact, do not attract.

on the other hand, peter had proven that similar interests and personalities were the foundation of beautiful, growing relationships: both platonically and romantically. still, relationships were never that black and white—a grey area. a theory that will forever be tested on, only for the outcome to come out vaguer than before, you’ve realized.

peter was like you: friendly, smart, awkward at times, funny to some. you and him basically have the same qualities of a dog, but there was more to it. 

you both shared the same liking down to the genre of video games, the magic of fantasy novels, the cleanliness of a room, the color-coded organization of study notes, and more. 

from there, the similar line of characteristics began to blur. whereas you’d prefer to learn from experience, peter liked playing by the book—sticking to it if he could. peter liked red, you liked blue. he favored savory snacks, you devoured them, but preferred sweet drinks.

opposites attract—the theory was once again, broad in your honor.

difference and similarities aside, you were lucky to have peter in your life. the bedroom was colder before you went to shower, but now it blossomed with a gentle heat.

he knew you hated the cold after a warm shower.

taking the other towel, you dried off the rest of your body while you checked your phone for notifications: a missed call from a friend and a few emails regarding construction around the building you had your classes in.

seriously? still? it’s been almost a year already…

normally, you wouldn’t have walked into the bedroom like this, baring skin and all. but peter went to get food because you both have become familiarized with what they served as food at parties.

note to self: you cannot get full off alcoholic beverages. you and peter both tried two parties ago, and it ended with you two sharing the toilet bowl, detoxing your insides of that liquid poison the entire night. the only enjoyment that resulted from that night was learning that peter was a drunk-crier, and you, a drunk-dancer. your friendship had only leveled up since.

you slid on your white briefs once you dried off before shuffling to the other side of the room, browsing through your shared closet aimlessly: he took the left side, you took the right. it was always dim at those parties, so a nice outfit would be wasted. also, you somehow became a magnet for other people’s misfortunes. it took hours to get rid of the smell of this one girl’s vomit—you threw it out in the end. 

“no, no… it’s going to be cold later…” you cycled through your clothes again, sighing when nothing caught your eye. “guess i can wear this aga-“

“hey!” out of nowhere, peter’s voice sprung out from the side of the room, followed by a quiet thud, and you twisted your bare body towards the source out of fright.

“jesus, you scared me.” the closet door blocked your view of peter, and vice versa, but you presumed he was leaning against the frame—a habit you noted. “i didn’t even hear you come back.”

“sorry- what was i saying..? oh!” his shadow loomed between you and him, growing as he stepped closer to the closet. “did you want to eat now or-“

judging from the volume of his voice, you should’ve expected how close peter was when you shut the closet. “fuck!” you jumped back, eyes widening when he was practically chest to chest with you. “dude, you really gotta stop doing that.”

on a daily basis, you always looked up at him, but you never paid it much thought to how much taller he was. 

“sorry! guess everyone’s a little antsy with the- oh.” he paused.

“what?” you curiously looked up at him, catching sight of his wandering gaze. you were quick enough to follow it, flickering between glimpses of your bare body and face several times like a tennis ball. somehow, you didn’t puzzle the pieces between his shock and your curiosity until he backed away, skittish in nature.

you were in your underwear. still in your underwear. the barrier was the captor of your embarrassment, heat rosed your cheeks as you stood frozen. and with it, the barrier was also your savior.

 “oh- OH!” the size of your eyes matched his and upon realizing he’s been staring for far too long, peter cowered his gaze to the side, a gentlemanly hand blocking his sight as he further backed to the door frame, then blindly bumped his shoulder into the door. “i’m so sorry-“ 

“no, no! i should’ve knocked. i-“ he groaned out, pacifying the sting to his shoulder with his palm. “that was stupid of me, i’m gonna-“

that was another similarity that you both valued: privacy. 

before you could reply, he scattered off. for a moment, you felt hot in the face, in the neck, even on your chest. but it would only take a few more seconds for your skin to cool, comforted by the fact that you could’ve shown more—you didn’t.

when peter scrambled out of the room, his gaze fixated on the ground, to the stripes of his socks as they shuffled to the kitchen. 

but he never made it very far, because he was easily persuaded. either by his hormones, by the shape of your body, or by his closeted feelings about you. in the end, it didn’t matter because a tightening feeling conjured him back to his original spot—it was always going to be about you. 

he was silent in his footsteps, treading backwards to the bedroom as his throat ran dry—heartbeat equally.

tonight. i should do it tonight. are my feelings that obvious? god, i hope not. wait, no- they are! they gotta be… who the fuck wipes marshmallow off of your roommate’s lips and calls them cute?!

peter does.

as his thoughts ran rampant, clouded his regularly murky mind, you were in his line of sight, perfectly captured in the middle of his gaze—now stilled—awe-strucked while he watched you change. 

quick portraits of your thick thighs and calves came and went before they were completely masked by the slide of your shorts. then your stomach and chest; pliant, moist skin that layered over the contours of your body before being covered by a tee. he exhaled, then inhaled, smelling the scent of your shampoo and body wash, and he was delighted because you own that scent.

enraptured because only peter could have his senses triggered by you on a daily basis.

if peter could frame this moment, it would be an expensive endeavor that would sacrifice all the money in the world to find the most perfect materials that complemented your textured skin. your smooth body. your handsome face. 

you. that was all he wanted. 

peter had been trapped since the day he saw you unpacking your things into the dorm. sweaty from the sun, and you knew that, because you refused to shake hands with him until you insisted on washing up first. he wished you never did—your thighs looked better sweating under those shorts.

he’s had crushes before. one in middle school, three in high school. but they amounted to nothing, he never had the confidence. rather, he preferred isolating himself and admiring from afar. rejections had already been predicted, and he was used to the feeling of defeat. if someone were to accept his advances one day, then that would lead to a disruption of events—a catastrophic end to humanity—he joked.

you were different to peter. he loved how, for once, he didn’t have to be the one initiating conversation. he also loved how you didn’t use him for answers because instead, you would help him out with his assignments.

oh, is that professor warren’s class? I think i still have the textbook for her class… let me look. 

even when it would only take five minutes to grab a drink down the street, you still invited him. not out of pity like everybody once did, but because he was your friend. parties have never been your thing, but you accompanied them with him because it made him feel better—to know someone.

maybe since he’s grown more mature since then, but now that he was off on his own, it was up to him to predict his future. it was an advice you gave him one night, and he’s kept that close to his heart since then.  not the hate that had inflicted his mind, not his peers telling he wasn’t good enough for someone—but him.  

in his imaginary world, peter could feel the walls shake when he was around you. the buildings would then fall apart, the earth would scorch civilians and planetary life with heat, and the thundering rain would only make it worse. it was a morbid image. yet, if it meant that you truly liked him, then…

aliens, come do your thing. we insist upon an invasion!

peter wanted you. point, blank, period. it wasn’t his preferred way to confess, but intense sentiments of like, love, lust—all at the same time—ate him up on the inside, and he was scared of being devoid of feelings for you.

“i want… you,” peter muttered, and you jolted again, turning back around in case you misheard him. you were bewildered at the sight of him. once again, you didn’t hear his footsteps.

“what?” you shuffled nervously on your feet. the tension in the air was thick and hot now with the way he stared back at you, frightened yet assured.

“i want you.” there was credence in peter’s tone, and he neared to the door now. 

your eyes narrowed into the deep abyss of peter’s eyes as you sat on the foot of your bed, putting on socks. somewhere in your endeavors, you found a flicker of that familiar joke. “ha. ha. very funny,” you muttered bitterly.

it haunted you. as soon as you came out, you were taunted by those same exact words by your ‘friends,’ by your previous roommate. what made you different from them became a simple reason to cease empathy and kindness, and you were baffled that this was happening again.

maybe peter was like the others after all.

you avoided peter’s gaze in favor of the floor, the legs of your desk, your rug—anywhere but him—and you could feel the color drain out of your face, out of this room—deja vu. “look, i know it’s funny to you because i like guys and for whatever reason, straight guys like to flirt with gay men to get a reaction out of us,” 

the rug cushioned the weight of a familiar pair of feet, and you looked up, a great frown etched in your face when your eyes met peter’s. he towered over you, bewildered. “but it makes me uncomfortable. and it’s not funny to-“

he didn’t know what roused him. the pain in your voice made him want to apologize without any resort to excuses. the pout on your lips made him want to cradle your head, yet kiss you at the same time. the growing tent in his pants made him want to pin you to your bed, and simply ravish you.

it was all a blur. 

his impulsive thoughts became a reality once he stole the remaining words left in your distress, and clumsily swallowed them with a kiss. you didn’t have time to process his lips on yours because you were then pushed onto your back, stilted and surprised, as peter applied his weight on top of yours—his broader build shadowed you in welfare.

“pete-“ you groaned into the hot, breathy kiss, and despite the light attempts to push him away, you were compelled to return the wet exchange. breathlessly, you repeated, “stop, this isn’t funny-“ he kissed you again. all this time, you could’ve had him, but you deluded yourself into thinking otherwise. 

“i’m not laughing,” peter muttered, and his hips began moving into yours, aimlessly trying to alleviate the stiffness in his pants. “i want you.” his voice lowered—no longer a confession, but a demand. he rocked into you harder once he felt you throb under those tight short, and you slipped out a moan, memorizing the beat of peter that pulsated against you.

you remembered him being bashful when you two talked about your firsts. you weren’t completely inexperienced like he was, but you mentioned that it’s been a while since you’ve done anything remotely intimate. school was your focus, a relationship was your reward.

“peter,” you repeated again, he wasn’t listening. “peter.” he whispered a demand; to keep calling his name, and you couldn’t help but quietly chuckle at the cliché line often heard in soft porn.

then, you cupped your hands around his temples to pull him away. he gazed into you with ardent hunger, almost annoyed that you ruined the trail of kisses he began leaving on your neck. “did you drink without me? because if you did, then i don’t think we should-“

“i didn’t,” he sobered on the softness of your lips, and like a flip switch, he snapped out of his fictional world of you. “fuck- i’m so sorry, i didn’t even ask you if you wanted to- fuck, i even forgot to say that i like you.” he ranted to himself, beginning to pull himself away. “this was not how it was supposed to go.”

infatuation had expanded into something beyond your control, and your feelings for him ignited even more. a wick bursted into powerful flames, and it warmed your body knowing that you two shared the same sentiment.

before he completely peeled himself off your body, you pulled him down by the neck, then pressed your nose to his, grinning. “I like you too.” a peck to the tip of his nose, then the center of his lips. your onslaught of fleeting kisses to his skin drowned him, pacifying every muscle in his body until it became jelly, and also making it all the more easier to roll him under you. 

“not exactly how i imagined my first date with you, but,” you straddled his lap, roaming your hands around peter’s chest, an asset of his you’ve frequently daydreamed about. “you sure?”

the applied pressures to your waist, then bottom should’ve been a definite measure of his answer, but he smiled up at you, guiding a steady pace of your hips to his groin. he was easily distracted, suddenly cascading his other palm up your shirt then down to finally feel the bare skin he had spent long showers jerking off to. fantasies had now been served onto a platter before him, and peter planned on devouring you, piece by piece. “please.”

“must have had a lot on your mind if you couldn’t even confess to me.” it was unusual to see him like this—absolutely enthralled by your presence, high off of it. aching for more of you with the way he pushed his groin into you. “how long have you been thinking about this?” being unusual always had negative connotations to it. 

you pressed into him harder, rubbing at his print with gallant grinds. not in this moment. 

he moaned, “far too long…” then fumbled with the waistband of your shorts before doing the same with the zipper. “you’ve been driving me crazy, especially these days.” it was a simple task, a daily labor that peter was great at, but his hands shook when his finger met metal. you chuckled, and placed a comforting hand to his cheek, stroking the soft skin with the amplest caress. 

take your time. i’m not going anywhere.

“mind sharing what you thought about then?” the only time you peel yourself away from peter’s groin was to help him slide your shorts off, then his jeans. peter lifted his hips, and you two were joined together again. aching together. “just curious.” you joked by pulsating your bulge, and he shyly laughed when he saw the restrictive twitch. 

felt it.

“well... where do i start?” peter’s warm hand rested on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your erection while delicately exploring your soft skin. “there’s been so many times where i just wanted to…” he was too ashamed to finish his sentence, looking away.

“wanted to…?” your body arced over his, placing a persuading kiss to his cheek, then neck. “what was it?” they lingered, sunk deep into his skin with the utmost affection, and he left the deepest, pleasurable sighs as if you withdrew it from him. you commenced his dilemma. “tell me what you thought when you first saw me. saw that i was your roommate.”

 “i...” peter began, and you could tell his nerves got the best of him, so you rocked into him again, begged with your hips. the position made it easier to feel all of him, press into his warmth more, and you couldn’t stop. wouldn’t. “i didn’t know what to feel. i was happy, that i had someone as kind as you…” you gleefully hummed, agreeing as you continued leaving kisses to his neck.

“then i was nervous, because you were so… cute. handsome. beautiful.” he moaned when you began to grind in slow, deep strides. your bulges squeezed and pushed one another, peter did the same, growing impossibly bigger against you. “but when i saw you in those shorts, sweating because move-in day was always on a hot day…”

“yeah?” you beckoned him to finish his sentence because you were closing your eyes now, remembering that very moment because you felt the same. the way peter’s chest, his muscles, were broad and stunning under his own layer of sweat, under his loose shirt, under that naivety that you would never have dreamed to think of him as such a…

“i just wanted to fuck you.”

pervert.

the shy smile he gave you messed with your perception of him. clearly, you’ve underestimated him all this time, and you kissed him again. “so, you only thought about pleasuring yourself.”

he quickly broke the kiss to defend himself. “wait, no! t-that’s not what i meant.”

“peter, relax.” your laugh calmly settled into a comforting smile, and you blindly reached down to his thick print, feeling and squeezing at whatever you can because you were desperate to explore him. “i’m joking.” his chest rose.

for the remainder of time, you spent it stroking peter through his underwear. dryly to his frustration, but he never told you because he wanted to experience you in every way. his lips never left yours, only parted to moan into your mouth when you shoved your hand into his briefs to sate your desire to feel him bare.

peter was big in your small hand. the weight felt suffocating to your palm when you grabbed ahold of his sack, fondling his balls, then stroking his cock again, and you were intoxicated in the way he melted under you, looked into you, begged for you to go faster. 

you did. who wouldn’t when he gazed at you with the most puppy-like eyes?

he had complete control of you now, because every action, every stroke, from then on had been a journey to his personal paradise. you didn’t care that you were left abandoned, that you were aching harder than he was. watching him was more than adequate.

both pairs of briefs and shirts have been tossed to the side now, and you maintained your straddle. it was riveting to watch how much bigger peter was when you took both of your cocks together and stroked. he practically enveloped you with the weight of his length, the girth of his shaft, and you wallowed in the fact that he was incredibly bashful about it. 

peter’s hand never left your body. he charmed you by his neediness. it was clumsy in execution, but he always squeezed a moan out of you with he felt your ass, your chest, your nipples, your thighs. “fuck, pete.”

everything about you was beautiful, incredibly more so when you caved into him as he dealt kisses to your bare skin and took his own turn at jerking the both of you off.

he was eager. delirious. hard, stiffening hard, against you, and you felt every vein pulsate the harder— the faster—he squeezed and stroked. you leaned back, hands planted to the mattress beneath you, then maneuvered your hips to the rhythm of his fist. you found a pace while peter kept you steady, and fucked into his fist, against his wet cock, sliming your dripping pre-cum together with the utmost fervor. 

“wait, (m/n),” he hiccuped, and his hold on you tightened, nails dug into your left waist but you ignored his plea, fucking steadily into his fist. “stop, i’m going to-“ they fell on deaf ears, and mouth agape, peter watched you with incredulity. you can feel his body flex, your balls smushed to his when you grinned up, your pre-cum sticking to his, his to yours, like a sick web. “s-stop, oh god.”

and peter unraveled before you with a guttural moan, finishing the rest of his plea with a blasting of thick and creamy ropes to his chest, like a cannon. the force was strong enough to have a few shots land on his face, then his hair, and then somewhere above because peter was a big shooter—a strong one, you’d passionately testify. “f-fuck, i didn’t mean to cum so-“

“holy shit.” you watched peter in all his glory, then in his embarrassment, while stilted on his lap and sweating, not taking notice of the delay of your climax because it crept up on you quick. a rocket broke the cloud in your thoughts with a boom, and you spilled all over him, shooting like fireworks. “shit!”

peter was your canvas, and it was your duty to paint him. debris of sex splattered everywhere, because you somehow found the strength to continue fucking yourself into the cream of fist, unloading and unloading onto him until you were dry, heaving and dripping.  

“fuck- I didn’t mean to ruin your sheets-” he mumbled, a blush stained his cheeks, and you joined in the warmth with a kiss, panting.

“where’s the fun in all of this if you aren’t going to stain at least one thing.” your brows raised at the wet stain on the wall above peter’s head, right below your wall-shelf, and peter’s gazed followed. 

he groaned, distressed by the evident he made. “fuck, sorry…” his bashfulness only endeared you even more. 

“it’s okay,” you hopped off his lap, stretching your arms into the air. “i’ll clean you up.”

“okay,” peter lay still, his hand cautiously held over his stomach to catch the drips of his cum and yours. it was fascinating to watch the mixture flow together, strands of it melding and un-webbing as he played with the sticky residue. it was the scientist in him. “my towel is on the- fuck-“

without a beat, you took his dripping flaccid cock into your mouth, sucking off any remnants of spunk. an unfamiliar taste you weren’t used to, bitter and salty. it wasn’t until you noticed how peter’s eyes glazed over you, half-lidded because he was in heaven now, that you found the taste of him delectable. peter’s caution for staining your bed sheets was disregarded, because he knew you’d clean the rest of him off. 

after you pulled away with a soft pop, he traced your wet lips with the cum on his fingers, then his knuckles, before he pushed one by one into your mouth. one finger at first, then two, then three, you moaned erotically around his digits as peter pumped, marveling in the eagerness of your mouth. he slowly pushed more cum into your mouth. the creamy residue gathered at the corner of your mouth at first but he made sure to scoop it back in, and continued doing so until he was polished clean. 

nothing was wasted. 

the taste of you and him spread in the warmth of your tongue, and you have never felt more intoxicated.

to peter, you have never looked more beautiful.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[m0nsterqzzz]

The Three Times Natasha Proposed to You and the One Time You Said Yes

pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader

summary: your girlfriend has a habit of proposing, and you have a habit of saying no.

a/n: I was gonna do this with katniss but decided it worked better with my favorite spy and also its been way to long since I wrote for herrrrrr ahhhh anyway, I LOVE HER YOUR HONOR

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The first time Natasha proposed to you, you had only known her for 18 hours.

You were new to the team. So new in fact that you only knew three people’s names at a table with eight people since the other five were too busy all day to introduce themselves. Dinner was awkward, for you at least, as everyone else was busy chatting about their days with each other. They’re laughing, the bond they all share clear as joy feels the air.

You don’t feel that joy.

It’s not like you’re not happy to be here; you’re insanely grateful that Fury was willing to see past your history and allow you to join forces such as the incredible ones around you, but you just don’t feel very welcomed.

You don’t blame the team. After all, it’s only the first day, and Fury already told you about the fact that most of the people on that team aren’t very warm and friendly. It does kind of bug you though, how now the people you’re not familiar with even seem to notice your presence in the group.

It’s just the first day. Things will get better. You repeat for the 100th time, eyes trained on the table as you spoon some more of the food that was in the kitchen when Jarvis called for you into your mouth. It’s chicken over rice, a simple recipe, but the chicken is covered in some type of delicious sauce that you can’t get enough of.

“Is the food okay? It’s my family's recipe.” A girl with brunette hair and jade colored eyes sitting across from you speaks, nervously smiling as she pushes her fork around the food on her plate. She’s young, younger than everyone else on the team, and it makes you feel a bit better about being new as you remember what Fury said about her only joining about half a year ago.

You give a hesitant smile, answering honestly; “Oh…yeah. I love it. It’s delicious.” 

The girl smiles brighter, reaching across the table to hold out her hand for you to shake. “It’s nice to officially meet you. Fury’s told me alot about you. I’m Wanda.”

“All good things I hope.” You giggle before introducing yourself, and she laughs along with you before you both go back to eating. The rest of the team slowly introduces themselves, and out of the corner of your eye you go see the way Wanda cringes when they only do it after she gave an example.

Even if they only did it once the girl made them realize, you still feel a bit more comfortable here then you did a while ago.

You notice Wanda eyeing your rings as you guys continue to eat, so you put your hand on the table in between you too. Her eyes shoot up to you in surprise, clearly not knowing that you noticed it. “Sorry for the staring. I just…I really like your rings. I love wearing them myself and I’ve never seen any like that. They’re beautiful.”

That’s how you guys start up in a conversation about rings, and then a few minutes later you’re sliding off one of your rings to give to her. She seems like the nicest person here, and you can already tell you’re going to be great friends. When you get it off, it accidently flies out of your hand, bouncing on the table before it falls off and lands somewhere on the floor. You turn red in embarrassment at the way everyone falls silent, staring at you in amusement before a redheaded woman slides out of her seat and kneels down on one knee to search for the item.

You met her earlier when you went to the gym to train, and she even helped you learn a few awesome fighting moves before she left to let you do your own thing. You can’t deny that Natasha is beautiful.

The woman smiles when she finds it, grasping the metal in her hand before she turns to face you, still on one knee as she holds it out for you to take as if she’s proposing.

If she notices the way it looks, she doesn’t say anything until Tony, the man you met when he blew up a lab earlier, laughs and mumbles under his breath, “I’m not paying for that wedding.”

You giggle, watching as Natasha stands up and turns to glare at him before facing you once again and putting it on the table near your plate. “Shut up Tony.” She mumbles before sitting back down in her own seat, and you say before shoving food into your mouth when the embarrassment sets in, “I’m not ready to settle down. Sorry Nat.”

Everyone just chuckles, and you are left with a small smile and new found happiness.

The second time she’d done it, she’d almost had you fooled that it was real.

You and her had been dating for three months, and you guys were absolutely inseparable. You’ve learned a lot about her in the year you’ve been an Avenger, and she sometimes opens up about her past. Her little sister, the red room, Dreykov.

Anyway, Fury had sent you on a mission with her, your best friend Wanda, and Steve Rogers to go and steal a flash drive from a destroyed hydra base then find some place quickly to look at what's on it. He said to find the nearest place as people would already be on the search for us, so that's why you got Nat to pull over at a mall. Not for clothes or a new pair of shoes, but to go into one of the electronic stores and use one of their computers to read what's on the file.

It was easy until Natasha noticed one of the workers looking at Steve in suspicion as they see him inserting the drive into one of the computers, and you’re about to abort the mission before your girlfriend grabs your hands and tugs you to the middle of the store, dropping into one knee and glancing at Wanda. The witch seems to get the hint even though you don’t understand what's happening, but you do when the young girl uses her magic to make a ring appear in Natashas hand. It’s beautiful, but you can tell it’s just an illusion to fool the people around you as small red whisps surround your best friend's hands.

“I’ve loved you since the day I met you.” The redhead starts, loud enough to attract the attention of everyone in the store but too loud as to not seem unusual. “I know you’re having my brother's baby,” She continues with that most serious face you’ve ever seen, and you have to try your hardest not to burst out laughing. “But I can treat you better than he ever could.”

The whole crowd of people in the store are now focused on you, even the workers which gives Steve the time he needs to enter the hard drive into one of the computers and read what's on it.

“So what do you say hottie? You wanna do this or not? Marry me?” You stare at her for a few minutes, eyes glancing at the blonde haired man who silently laughs at the scene in front of him before sending you a thumbs up to show he’s done and you guys can go.

“No!” Everyone quietly gasps, all looking away as Natasha fakes offense. “No! What the fuck? What kind of proposal is this? I’m just trying to buy a new phone, Stacy! And you’ve got a huge barbecue stain on that sweater. This is truly the best you could do?”

You're having way too much fun with it as you scoff before gently slapping her, trying your hardest not to laugh at the way everyone gasps even louder while you storm out.

Your friends and girlfriend quickly catch up with you, and you all finally burst out laughing by the time you’re getting in the car and driving away from the mall right as some scary looking military vehicle pulls up to the building. “Did you have to slap me?” Natasha laughs out, the ring box Wanda had magically created is now gone as she sits next to you in the back seat. “I feel like you enjoyed that way too much.”

“I did enjoy it. I’m also just practicing for the day you do propose to me.” She lets out a fake annoyed groan, slinging an arm over your shoulder as she pulls you to lay against her side.

Despite the playful mood, you can’t help but feel a fluttery feeling in your chest and a warm blush coating your face at the thought of being married to this girl. Little did you know, she was feeling the exact same.

When she did it a third time, it almost seemed like it was second nature for her to pull out a ring box and propose to you. 

You had just got back to the Avengers tower after a lunch date, and she froze on the doorstep when she realized you were no longer beside her. She turns in circles, panic filling her when she doesn’t see you. She’s a spy for fuck sakes, how could she have not noticed something happening to you.

 Her panic fades when you pop out from behind a thick tree, a snowball made from the small amount of snow on the grass in hand as you send her a mischievous smile. She doesn’t have any time to move before you’re launching it in her direction, practically falling over with laughter as it hits her forehead and then breaks into pieces.

The redhead still seems a bit shocked, but she quickly gets over it as she groans with a grin and runs over to harshly tackle you to the ground. It knocks the wind out of you, but you’re both still laughing so hard your stomach hurts as she grabs some snow from beside your head and then lets it fall onto you. “You wanna play that fucking game? Oh we can play that game honey.”

You shake your head, but the bright smile on your face tells her that you’re not actually scared. “No. I’m sorry Tasha. We can talk this out.” When she makes a, “tsk…tsk” noise with her mouth, you use all your strength to push her off of you, sprinting towards your home even though you can hear the sound of Natasha’s boots hastily crunching the snow beneath them as she runs after you.

She wraps her arms around your waist, easily picking you up off the ground and spinning you around. As cringy as it is, your laugh makes her laugh, and the moment is so perfect as she slowly lets you down so she can look you in the eyes.

“Wait a second.” Natasha mumbles, before grabbing something from her pocket, telling you to turn around for a minute while she makes you a surprise. You draw shapes in the snow in the meantime, your fingers practically numb but by the time you’re done, every planet is drawn into the frozen canvas. “Alright. Turn around.” She speaks again, and your smile grows- if possible- at the sight.

She’s messily formed a ring with the wrapper from a straw at dinner, and now she’s balanced on one knee in the icy snow as she grins up at you. “Will you marry me, and be mine forever?”

You pretend to think about it for a moment, finally holding at your left hand for her to put the ring on as you yell out, “Of course I’ll marry you!”

The russian girl laughs, once again picking you up to twirl you around before she sets you down to kiss you easier.

From a window high up in the Avengers tour, Wanda watches the interaction while drinking her tea and then closing her curtains. “When is she gonna do it for real?” She whispers to herself, already so done with the fact that Natasha has proposed to you three times, and yet she hasn’t been able to wear a pretty bridesmaid dress in her whole live.

The day Natasha proposed in the privacy of the cabin Tony’s letting you borrow for a weekend, twinkling lights dressing the living room and the dining table decorated with candles, rose petals and fancy wine that’s probably from Pepper, was the time you know she wasn't kidding.

As the sun sets behind the clouds, you and Natasha sit across from each other with your free hands hooked together beside your plates. The setting sun casts gentle rays upon your face from the window, illuminating your features with a golden light. You two share a quiet, comfortable silence for a moment before she looks up from her plate to you, a smile gracing her lips. You look at Natasha, heart beating softly in your chest from the soft, gentle atmosphere of the moment. She lets go of her fork to use that hand to grab ahold of your other hand, your fingertips intertwined gently. Your eyes meet across the table, and for a second it’s just you guys in the world. 

The girl then speaks, her words sincere and clear, as she makes her proposal. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you; I’ve wanted to since the first date we went on. I was scared though…..scared of finding someone I love in a world that could take it away so easily. But now….now I realize. It doesn’t matter. As long as I get to be with you for what time we have left, it’s worth it. So," she says softly, tilting her head to the side and smiling as she grabs a ring box from her pocket and opening it so you can see the diamond ring inside before standing up from her seat so she can get down on one knee next to the table. 

"Will you marry me?" 

The question hangs in the air as you gaze into the girl's eyes and processes the words. Your mind reels from the unexpectedness of it all, but you also can't help the surge of joy welling in her chest.

“Yes. Yes of course I will!” Her grin brightens, and she’s still kneeled as she wraps her arms around your waist to hug you as tight as she can. You join her on your knees so you’re on her level, grabbing her face with both hands and pulling her into a passionate kiss. You would’ve married her the first time she asked, but you’re somehow glad you waited until now to say yes. This is perfect.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

[nova-amor]

"shh, what did i say, cariño?" miguel cooed, soft lips brushing against the outer shell of your ear. his scent was overwhelming, borderline nauseating with the way it invaded your nostrils. yet, you were addicted to it. "we made a promise, right? you remember our agreement?"

and, you did. before miguel had whisked you away into a nearby closet, before he had truly given into your advances— he had you promise that you would be quiet, that not even a peep would leave those pretty little lips. or, he wouldn't hesitate to stop.

you nodded your head, big eyes brimming with tears as you pressed your lips together, halting any further sound from escaping. miguel chuckled, caressing the skin of your thighs, his body sandwiching yours between him and a wall.

his hips slowly retracting from yours before diving right back into your wet heat. his thrusts were slow, deep, carving the curve, width, and length of his cock into your squishy walls.

"that's my good girl," miguel purred, the white glimmer of his sharp canines shining even in the darkness of the storage closet. your suit had been torn to shreds, ruined and thrown to the floor in the heat of the moment. your body exposed and vulnerable for him. just the way he liked it. "always keepin' her promises— always bein' good for me."

the wet squelching of his cock stretching you out echoed off the walls, your adrenaline spiked as you fought the urges to moan, to cry, to proclaim your undying love for the man before you. miguel's cock nudged you in all the right places, your eyes crossing and back arching as it rubbed against the sensitive gooey spot inside you.

one of miguel's hand settled over your lips, covering your lower face as the knot inside you unraveled. finally reaching the sweet peak you had been so desperately craving. acknowledging his plan, your moans and mewls spilled into his hand like putty, muffled and wetting the skin of his palm.

"cum for me, nena— cream all over my cock— milk me, baby—" he guided you, hips continuing to rut into you. your walls spasmed around him, a white ring of thick cream forming around the base of his shaft, drooling down to his balls. "this is what you wanted, right? wanted to use my cock to get off? well, it's my turn— and, you better keep your promise."

[samodivaa]

Thrill me, Fulfill me

You agreed to help for one mission—now you are both lustful and carnal, affected by sex pollen—you are flint, he is tinder.

Warnings - sex pollen, smut, rough/possessive sex, Hydra past, breeding kink, choking kink, multiple orgasms

Words - 8k

(the 3D render is for this fic, enjoy :3)

The horizon tips on its side, and slowly, hour by hour, the day spills out and soon the night will spread its darkness—traveling through the countryside is a charming escape and in a chronicle of events, with the light of the days—you feel the light inside too, your human spirit wanders in thoughts as you sit on the BMW’s trunk with closed eyes. It is June, and the world smells of roses, moments like these leave a rich heritage of beautiful memories in their going—in a fortunate combination of delightful weather, Bucky and freedom—your soul feels at peace.

“I talked with Sam, he wants me to help him” There is an endearing nervousness in his voice “I was wondering if you would like to come with us”

In an instant, you reply with an annoyed face “No”

“No? Come on, you need people other than me in your life”

He scolds as he nests between your legs, fingers finding their way on both sides of your hips, drawing soft circles as they travel up towards your waist.

You arch an eyebrow at him, as if the answer is obvious “I don’t need others”

“You will love Sam, I told him about us, I mean-about us living together”

“You did, why?” you clip your words, hissing them into his face as you give a wide-eyed, searching look.

“I used to invite him over to my apartment, he started wondering why I stopped. I wanted him to know anyways”

“What else did you tell him?” you look at him with an arrested expression. His smile fades, and he finds himself staring into your eyes “James?”

It is only a brief moment, but you catch his blink of surprise at your demanding tone before he offers a tentative smile.

“I-I told him about your connections and he was hoping that-” he trails off quietly and you notice a tightness around his mouth and a dimness to his usually bright eyes.

You regard him thoughtfully and he sees the comprehension dawning in your eyes. You know exactly what he is asking.

“Did you miss the part of how I built them?” you ask, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He huffs in annoyance “Well no, but don’t worry-”

“Oh, hey Sam, I am another brainwashed assassin and when I escaped I did it willingly, for money, nice to meet you by the way”

“I get it, but you are changi-”

You snap, pinching your eyebrows close together.

“And this is my former partner who I used to occasionally fuck at Hydra and now that we have reconnected, we are fucking and living together”

“Anything else you want to add?” 

“No, that's all” you finish bitterly, furious with him for letting Sam know so much about you.

“He already met you once in Madripoor, he knows about your past. Trust me, he is a good person, he accepted me”

You let out a hollow laugh

“I am not Captain America’s best friend, James. I am nobody, I don’t even have a legal identity”

You explain in a humorous yet deprecating tone, staring into space.

“Look at me, you need to trust me” he coos, his blue eyes have a doorway to your heart, the place where his care for you resides “I know that you are scared, but you need other people in your life”

It's the caring that he lovingly gives, the passion that he shows—that convinces you every time.

“If I break your heart, I break mine, darling”

Shifting your mouth from a frown into a light-hearted smile, you let out a small chuckle from underneath your breath. His metal hand rests on the small of your back, in that sweet spot that makes you feel feminine and protected—vanity, fear, uncertainty—all such distortions within your own ego—condition you to stay silent about your own feelings. Your programmed mind-pattern still needs to heal, all you need is time, you will get there eventually.

You kiss him on the cheek, which kind of surprises him.

“Хубаво, ще дойда” (Okay, I will come)

His gaze flickers up to your eyes and he can detect no deceit, no mockery. 

There are many circumstances that lead to arrogance: one is when you're wrong and you can't face it—but you decide to face it this time, because you know that your brain relies on the familiar. It is reluctant to experience the unknown, which is the very essence of your human life.

The past should have no power over the present, but it still does sometimes—anger and death are deeply rooted, your emotional thermostat is broken. Everything in you is broken—you view yourself as pieces and Bucky somehow sees you as a whole.

Inside, your soul was so cold that you hated everything. You even despised the sun, for you knew you would never be able to play in its warm presence—you were condemned to stick to the past, working as a hitman for years. Everything changed when Bucky decided to track you down. You knew he was spying on you, because you made it easier for him.

You were afraid of the aloneness that you trusted for so long, but that is the truth that you still store in the granary of your mind. Maybe you will tell him one day. Maybe one day you will let him know that he helps you abandon your corporeal prison.

"Я просто люблю запах страха" (I just love the smell of fear) you whisper—a knife-wielding lunatic.

You face the attackers in a kind of instantaneous flash and see the disconsolate eyes, which remain stamped on your heart like the hot coals of fear, the power of death is then borne out by you—the queen at the bloody carnival, not afraid to spill blood while Bucky tries to prevent hurting, killing people at all cost.

It is easy when you work together, just as in the past—but he is holding back, you are not used to seeing him fight so carefully—Winter’s brutality is non-existent.

You sigh as the last man drops dead to the ground. With a knife in his chest. Or, rather, a pair of knives in the chest.

Yes, you helped them locate the rumored Hydra base, but Bucky’s intense paleness on his face shows regret, because you still don’t mind killing—you give him a pitying smile when your eyes meet before your system is poisoned with something.

It is such a tumultuous and intemperate invasion that you forget why you are here. And then your eyes meet again, there is fascination in his gaze, menaced by some invisible danger, and you want to succumb the terrible desire to weep when you realize what it is and you look at the mysterious trembling of your hands—your gaze goes up, but Bucky is nowhere to be seen.

He knows he has to go somewhere, he heads back to the apartment and he has feelings of sorrow, regret, directionless rage, a broad feeling of impotence. The horror of this misfortune penetrates Bucky so deeply that he is close to a panic attack—as if reliving the nightmare he sometimes has—Hydra giving him the pollen back in 1990.

He wanders all through the rooms as if walking in his sleep, chewing on his quiet rage.

He knows the theoretical mechanics of the pollen and he can barely stay on his feet because of the weakness of his knees, his skin is burning and he can’t resist the urgent need to palm himself through his pants—it starts slow and will go progressively worse. 

He rubs his hand over his scalp, where his long hair used to be—now shaved very close to his head and bristling against his fingers, he lowers his blue eerily crystalline eyes before closing them. He feels like he should be crying, but he couldn’t summon the tears.

—it’s all his fault. Why did he need to come to your apartment a year ago, on a beautiful August’s evening?

„I knеw that we were following me, Soldat,“ you loudly acknowledge him, drawing out the derogatory term while your back is turned to him.

Stillness wraps Bucky up in a cold embrace, a chill running down his body as he hears you speak. On the string spun of your angel voice, grief and pain drowns him. The tone drawn from memory in his dreams it’s the same, unblinking, robotic as you offer him one spare look before focusing on cutting vegetables on the wooden board.

He exhales, then he slowly enters the apartment. „It is not Soldat, it’s Sergeant now“ his breath hitches and he stops as soon as he enters the room.

There is a crack in his stoic expression, excruciating memories flooding his mind. He knew that somewhere, some day, maybe at a less miserable time, you may see each other again, but he couldn't wait any longer.

The memories are still in his mind and the pain—too ripe in his heart. The more deeply he felt, the less he was able to breath, thinking of grief, and of getting past it.

That's why he came. He needs you in more ways that he wants to confess.

„Oh? What do you want, Barnes?“ your face is carefully blank.

„I wanted to talk to you“ he starts, taking a couple of steps towards.

Shadows lick up the side of his cheekbones, making his skin gold as he slowly walks to the opposite side of the kitchen island, you hear him move the wooden seating.

„And you couldn’t just-I don’t know…have knocked on the door?“

„Sorry, I didn’t know how to-“

He says, a tremor makes his voice uneven. Bucky takes in a deep breath to balance out the embarrassment thrumming through him.

„It is easier to be loyal to past habits, can’t blame you“ you murmur, voice perfectly respectful as you think about it with a heavy heart.

You said it as a matter of fact, without the scorn and mockery, but as an accepted truth before placing the knife you have been using, on the cutting board and finally facing him completely as you step closer to the island as well, leaning forward on your elbows.

But the wintery feeling of the pollen is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring that summer's memory of meeting you.

The memory played in his head, with a hopeless nostalgia that he was completely disoriented—he doesn't care if you are heartless, vicious and vulgar, stupid, grasping with incurable programming and mental problems, he enjoys spending time with you. He would rather have misery with you than happiness with any other person, because it is shared, you have a deep and silent understanding.

He was so happy when you suggested living together four months ago—he was okay with the sleepovers at each other's apartments—never was bothered with the need to rush your companionship.

The key to personal development lies in the daily routine—creating new memories with you stretches out psychological time, and lengthens his perception of both your and Bucky’s lives. When he wakes up from a nightmare he is so relieved, because he wakes to a dream, he enjoys the miracle of living with each other as much at the table as in bed.

Bucky finally lays on the bed, his head aches. He admits that he is still human, vulnerable, and sensitive—but he begins to remember how it had been when Hydra gave him the pollen and his self revolted at this, hates himself for not being able to fight it, hates himself for bringing you here.

He is sick with conflict, destructive emotions festeres in him while this sludge eats away at his insides and Bucky is acutely conscious of the swift passage of time, it will make him become blunt and callous—there is a certain clinical satisfaction in seeing just how bad things can get for him, but maybe this is what he deserves.

When you push open the bedroom door, you can’t prevent it from scraping against the uneven floor. Suddenly, in the absolute darkness of his mind, Bucky is brought back to reality. He is not surprised, for without knowing, he has been expecting you to come.

You close the door behind you as he stands up on his elbows—wondering why are you such a stubborn, blind, obtuse woman—why are you here?

Your scent carries across the room and paralyzes him with longing.

“Stay away, why did you fucking follow me?”

You stop in shock at the words he utters—they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless.

He is vulnerable, slightly paranoid. Although his voice is broken by uncertainty and his hands seem to doubt the existence of things—he tries to appear composed.

You can feel his eyes traveling up your whole body, staying on your side for a split second before moving up to meet your gaze.

“James, we don’t have another choice, we don’t have time”

You can't blame him—he is scared, scared and frozen, afraid of what he can do to you...the old primitive urge for sex. It's getting harder to control it with every passing minute—every second is lived with terrible intensity. It all flows over you with a screaming ache of pain—as you see him, the need grows even faster...and all you can do is remember and feel—the effects of the pollen—like a disease of the blood, dispersing throughout the body.

He looks like a bundle of past recollections, knotted up in a bundle of flesh.You remember what his flesh has gone through—but you also remember what he put you through that day. You feel the naked fear, the urge of self-preservation, you appear solid in front of him, but you are mimicking nothingness.

“God, I smell you. So hot and sweet”

The blank hell in the back of his mind starts to break through, spewing forth like a dark pestilence, the pollen eats away the pith of his humanity—the chaotic words pour out of his mouth as he gets up from the bed and you self-paralyze, your back hits the door—but this is the only way that will pull you both out of the plunge of—pain, need.

Your sexual attraction to him has been heightened beyond measure, as much as you try to bury it deep down in fear, the lust is getting greater than any other feeling or emotion. Every part of him is heightened to you now...his voice included.

He stops in front of you, belatedly realizing where his feet have carried him. There is no glamor, no attempt to hide it, nothing: his need taking slowly over all his senses. The unwelcomed bubble of intrusive lust, sinking into an even more heavily occluded state—you feel it too as he molds his front to yours and pins your breasts against his chest.

You are mesmerized by the tiny flecks of indigo in his blue eyes—you can drown in those eyes and it wouldn’t be the worst way to go. His beautiful features offer themselves to your gaze as you trail through them, annoyed at how attractive he looks—putting your mind into a darker cloud of irritation, waiting for him to do whatever he wants.

You feel stuffy, there is not enough air to breathe as he cages you against the door, his consciousness already vanishing and deforms itself in something primal, there is a delicious animal fire in his gaze.

“I want to taste you so desperately, it rages through me-fuck, fuck this-I want to fuck you”

His eyes are growing moist with indignation, with angry impotence, he is barely controlling himself. It is the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning— it’s hard—but not harder than his cock.

“Do it, come on” you gasp out.

“If you don’t get out of here, you know what will happen”

He explains weakly, and when you say nothing, he grabs your waist with both hands, vision already blurring. His bones fill up with foam, a languid fear, and a terrible desire.

Bucky’s control dies a slow death, shedding layers like leaves until—there will be none—he tends to be particularly rough, aggressive and possessive when given the pollen. You remember the feeling of possessiveness he had as the Winter Soldier over you, so intense it transformed into an obsession over your body.

“I'm not leaving, I need this as much as you” you say, tremulous with longing.

Bucky stares at your mouth as you speak—it looks provocative to him when you talk.

“Enough, dammit, leave”

His voice tightens, it pierces your soul—half agony, half lust.

You still have the choice of running away and finding someone else to do it, but leaving Bucky behind—you know there is not a girl in the world that can handle him, no one else has the serum, but you—your brain is ricocheting in between. It all drifts to the periphery of the mind when you meet Bucky’s eyes.

“It’s normal-” you say haltingly, your expression turns guarded.

He is livid, a sad look on his face

“We are not normal” he interrupts with a soft firmness “It’s insane to pretend we are”

You are both aware. Catastrophically aware.

“Stop talking, we’ve been through that once-”

and you look so well-equipped for this that is seems abnormal to Bucky, he is conquered by the obstinacy of you—so docile and willing to help—he wants to be emancipated for the moment from the torment of the pollen, but the guilt is still eating him.

“Do you remember the year it happened?”

"You always ask me whether I remember the stupid years, lets just-” you say with a shrug.

"It matters, it matters to me. I hate that you remember, I hate myself for what I've done to you” He explains, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with his human hand.

"James” you whisper his name tremulously “I don’t blame you for anything”

His pain is paramount and you want it to end. His pain, his guilt. You are willing to suffer for the rest of your night so that he can take the easy way out of his needs. You admit it to yourself, without bitterness—you need to sacrifice dearly on behalf of Bucky. 

“I’ll lose control” What you cannot forgive is dishonesty—you would rather know the hideously unflattering truth of his devastating visions than foul evasions “If you try to run now, I will probably chase you down anyways”

With all that waiting you have lost the strength of your legs, the firmness of your breasts, your tenderness look—barely keeping your heart intact. Maddened by that prodigious talking, you shamelessly groan, closing your eyes.

“This is bad,” you whimper “Oh God, this is bad. Please, do something”

The next critical manifestation: the unbearable pain.

“Snezinka-” (snowflake)

“Stay with me” your eyes shone “Play with me, please” like those of a cat.

In that state of hallucinated lucidity—you just can’t take it anymore. Presently the need grows stronger, hesitating then no longer. The attempts to conceal the pollen’s effects don't work anymore.

“At least…give me permission this time” Bucky shakes his head, sadness vibrating through his body as he speaks through clenched teeth.

“Yes, do whatever you want” you moan, shaking, desperate for his touch.

And then you see something possessive wash over him, making your body shiver in anticipation.

“Please, I need yo-”

You say, nodding at the soul-reaching blue crystals, not looking away from him, but Bucky doesn’t let you finish as he kisses you. His lips are warm, his body is heat and muscles against you. He kisses you like a tide, gentle at first, but with the ability to drown, his fingers digging into your waist, urging you ever-nearer to him, even when it’s physically impossible to be. Then his fingers slithers over your chest, hands immediately find your breasts and he starts to massage them for his own pleasure.

His fingers curl around the edges of your soaked blood shirt, pulling and eventually tearing it away from your skin.

There is lust and there is pain, a whirling wheel—not stopping.

He wastes no time, kissing you deeply again, already missing the feeling of your skin.

“I am yours, you know that”

A simple reply, his voice cut into you like glass, his words bleeding into your skin. It isn’t something to be argued against, it’s the truth and you acknowledge that. It’s ridiculous, absurdly sentimental to think that you managed to lay a claim on him like you did in the past. 

You are trying to think of something, coming up short when he presses his hips flush against yours again, the chest harness wrinkling under the tight grip of your fists, pulling him and he hems you up against the door, grinding his cock against you. You slide one hand downwards, wrapping around his hard manhood and squeeze, Bucky moans quietly and involuntarily rolls into the contact, desperately seeking relief.

“Fuck” he says, a bit too breathlessly.

„James-this is not enough“ you undulate your hips against the aching bulge.

His name falling on his ears like that sent chills down his spine, he can hear the beat of his heart, his palms belong on your skin as he closes the gap between you. Nothing is sweeter, nothing else than you—lust is spreading like quickfire in his veins, groaning in the kiss.

“I know, I know” he whispers, a hint of exasperation and affront in his tone, leaning forwards to kiss you yet again, teasingly licking at your lips as he pulls away.

Sexual perversions mix with guilt and adrenaline as his mind sees in scattered images of varying vulgarity. Bucky grips your waist and lifts you off the ground with ease, dropping you softly on the luxurious white linen bed.

You lick your lips, trying to quench the thirst for him. Your throat is dry as you watch him between your spread legs—his belt clattering noisily as he unbuckles it, popping the buttons of his jeans open, followed by the low purr of his zipper coming undone, he drifts his hands down his sides and hooks both thumbs into his jeans, sliding them and the boxers down his legs. The corners of his mouth curve upward when he notices you staring a moment too long as he removes his jacket and shirt.

You remove your own pants and then you spread your legs open, positioned right in front of his standing body—one hand toys with your breast through the bra while the fingers of the other hook in your panties and drags them down your legs fast before throwing them in his direction.

His breath stutters as he catches them with his metal arm, becoming more and more aroused with every beat of his heart that runs down his shaft. It’s becoming more painful. He starts to pump his cock, the veins bulging beneath his grip—even in his large hand, it looks intimidating, the veins in his neck tightening.

He’s quite tall with broad shoulders and an athletic physique that even his leather jacket cannot hide. Your eyes continue their upward travel to his strong square-shaped face framed with short brown hair that falls to his shoulders and deep, blue eyes. 

He then craws on top of you and he cannot articulate a word, capable only of an animal sound, a strangulated wheeze that shocks him deeply, enraging him, this sudden loss of the faculty of speech that feels somehow bestial and forgotten now.

It is the impatience of the way he tears your bra from your body that really scares you: the pollen getting the better of him and you spread your legs wide, exposing your overall and the fragrance of the essences permits in the air, he smells it.

His cock nudges around your sleek mound until he gasps as he guides his sticky cockhead glides through your delicate folds. He doesn’t say anything as he slips inside you, burying himself to the hilt.

Sex with you this time is different, he has never felt this dominant, this claiming, this selfish. He is so far in that his balls are right against your pussy lips.

His greedy lips are once again on your skin, devouring everything he can—licking, sucking, and kissing, not holding back his throaty moans. He drags his lips up your throat, along your jaw, back toward your mouth. His lips are usually gentle and loving, promising long days and summer forever—but they soon turn sharp, peppermint, winter.

Animal logic. Prey. Predator… teeth dragging against your neck, living marks. The primal lust, the sheer need to claim you, quickly finding ways to express his sacred hunger to you in animal passion. He snarls out gluttonous groans against your skin as you clench and seize, pounding you harder as your body contracts. Pleasure breaks out like a wildfire, reaching around your temples; shooting up and down your spine.

You're perfect when you're underneath him, it's where you belong, beautiful face and pretty wide eyes locked onto his powder-blue orbits—curves cushioning him, your obedient body lush, muscular, but still feminine, your eyes flashing—and all he wants is to ruin you.

It's a sinful sight each time he buries the length of his cock all the way inside you, shaft slick and wet and glistening when he pulls it out. You make the prettiest noises when he shoves in deep only to pull out and slam himself back inside, you've got the prettiest expression as he grips your legs and folds them up to fuck his dick into you even harder than before.

“Don’t stop, don’t, please”

There is something raw and pleading in your voice that surpasses sexual desire, these fleeting moments of carnal craving.

He continues to trail his lips down the front of your throat and you realize that he is mouthing words against your skin “Mine. Mine. Mine”

“You feel so good every time, snezinka” he murmurs at your ear as slide to your throat and he tightens his grip on both sides on your neck, reducing the blood and oxygen to the brain. When he loosens, the rush of blood and oxygen to the brain results in an explosion of dopamine, followed by a shamelessly loud moan from your lips “I think that I love you”

“We’re drugged. That’s why,” you gaspe “Did you forget?”

Bucky acknowledges your words, they sink into him—he focuses his attention on your skin. He nibbles at your earlobe, loving the sharp intake of your breath, skin breaks out into a pale sweat and your eyes fill with tears. His trusts are ruthless.

“There is no pleasure as good as the feel of your pretty cunt wrapped around me” a dark edge creeps into his tone.

He says as he fills out pounds you, drawing a muffled scream from your throat as he starts to thrust more rapidly, setting a demanding rhythm.

Something strange starts to rage inside him, hearing you inhale sharply as he continues to kiss and bite your neck, leaving bruises deliberately and as he fucks you deeper, wanting to mark you in an entirely different way—he wants to breed you.

And you know you will wear the bruises of Bucky’s hands as you wear the scars of Soldat.

All extremes of the pollen are allied with madness, finally consuming his brain and body.

“You are so beautiful”

He says into your skin, tears welling, confused, mingling in his throat. Old wounds never truly heal, your past will never fully heal anyways. That one tear, that tiny, salty, droplet of moisture is a means of expression—joy, and torment. Although it's just a small tear, it is the heaviest thing in the world. And it doesn't do a damn thing to fix anything in this situation.

“James-” your whole body exhaled a lugubrious lament, your heart breaks for him.

His eyes are always soulful, in some way; they seem to say things that you know he's probably never say out loud.

“I know baby, I know,” he nibbles on the side of your neck “You are so beautiful, I am sorry-so sorry, I can’t stop” his growls erupt from his chest, the primal noise flooding your senses, making your insides clench around his length “I need this, I need you”

You’re powerless…utterly at his mercy and that’s what makes you cum—his voice sends shudders through your body, reacting in all the right ways to the words. The orgasm has gutted your vocal chords, and all you manage is a small gasp, tears slipping down the old salty trails as he doesn’t stop, his head lulling on your shoulder.

He leans down, nose brushing against yours as he pants, thrusts never faltering, his mouth hangs open with bliss, his cock plunging into you with skin-slapping speed and he finally reaches his orgasm, cock spurting a thick dollop of cum with each throb. He closes his eyes, because of the volcanic eruptions of fever still goes through his body—his orgasm is long, raw, reaching all his body senses.

Sex is unthinkable without roughness tonight—he is already thinking about his second orgasm—should he just cum in your mouth when he makes you fall to your knees… or if he should take you by the hair before he’s finished and fuck you into a sobbing heap before blowing his load. Of the few times Soldat has face fucked you—gagging you to near vomiting—you’ve never miss a drop of cum. He remembers it.

His hand closes around your throat and the grip tightens, slowly cutting into your skin while cutting off oxygen. It is more painful than lethal, but more erotic than painful. Your head is spinning, ears are ringing—suddenly, without warning, he withdraws completely, leaving you coughing and gasping for air. As you try to catch your breath, you feel him get up from the bed which urges you to come back to your senses faster.

In his temporary madness, an idea comes to his mind.

In seconds, he is back on top and when your vision finally clears—his lusty orbs descend to your cheeks, detailing your skin before leaning in to lick off your tears—some form of mercy which you don’t need.

He is now in that state of fire that excites you. You want to be burnt.

His eyes drift leisurely back up to your face and he smiles, nova-flare eyes blazing into your own—you look for love hiding in his eyes, in his face, and you find nothing but possessiveness.

But something is not right.

His eyes are cold and dark.And your heart stops.

He is taking you over. Staking a claim.

He slowly thrusts his hips forward, his cock pressing into your front, earning a squeal from you as he ruts back and forth dragging his length across your opening and then slowly plunges into you. You exhale, trembling as you feel the tip pressing against your opening and penetrating you. He is mesmerized by the sight of his cock disappearing inside of you, filling you up to the brim.

Bucky brings both of your wrists above your head and grips them in his metal arm, restraining you from moving them—and you tremble like a downy rabbit caught in the clutches of a wolf—he seizes you as boldly as Soldat used to capture his favorite prey—you—in the past.

A flash blinds you for a moment and you see him holding his phone—this feels surreal—leaving you breathless with an inexpressible delight of it. Bucky’s inner voice of lust speaks, it is so spontaneous and unannounced. Your mind searches for the logical thought of his action.

“Fuck, I can cum just by looking at it” He musters his primest tone, throwing the device to the side.

You whimper as your abdomen contracted painfully around his hard length at his words. He lets his fingers release your hands as his cold digits swipes back the hair from your face. Cursing, he grips the back of your neck and brings your lips to his while the metal ones grip your hip so tightly you are sure he’d leave a bruise. You whimper as he starts to fuck you, slamming you into the matress.

The usual warmth of his hands is not there. They chill your skin as they hold you close to his body, and you realize he is scared. The extreme joy mixes with the bone-crushing grief—what if you don’t want to be around him after this night? What if you condemn him, consider it with high and unjust resentment and leave him? It pierces his soul, but he can’t stop—he is half agony, half animal...the past beats inside like a second heart now.

Your soft fingers trail his face and continue to attempt a connection that he refuses to acknowledge at first—the past slips and vanishes like sand between the warm touch of your fingers, acquiring material weight, only in its recollection, because the more shared past there is in any relationship, the more present you need to be for each other.

“Let go," you whisper and he loosens the grips—he is ashamed of holding you so tightly "No, not of me," you say smiling.

You look right into his eyes, right into him as far as you can see, because you want him to hear you, you want him to hear you with everything you say—and his chest tightens as if some euphoric drug has gone straight to his nervous system—but it is not the pollen, it is you—reassuring him, leaving a psychic imprint in his mind.

It’s both a blessing and a curse to share the same trauma. And even though you are sometimes harsh, restless and despairing—he is your weak spot, you love him in your own way.

"You can hold on to me as long as you want. Let go of the past, let go of the pain" you say, giving him permission, taking him into your flesh, a clear invitation to madness.

Emotions clamp down on his heart, but he stays terribly silent. Bucky says nothing after that, only your name, as if your name is not a name but a question. He shakes his head and kisses you, long and quiet.

He grabs your jaw in one hand forcing you to look at him, tears coursing down your cheeks as he thrusts into you, making low, growling noises in his throat—a predator purring with pleasure while it devours its prey, picking up a brutal pace once again. Your legs tighten around his waist, hooking over his hip bones as he practically folds you in half, nails digging into his back, surely breaking his skin with your manicured fingers.

He groans at the pain and removes your hands, intertwines his fingers with yours, pins your wrists flat to the mattress on either side of your head. He holds himself up over your body as he fucks into you, supporting his weight on his forearms. His cock is slamming into you, balls bouncing against your clit just right, the sight of his well-muscled body, covered in a thin layer of sweat, invites you to utter depravity, it is what drives you over the edge.

“You look so good taking all of me” he pants against your throat “I will fill you again-so good”

Hard, long, deep trust that forces moans out of both of you.

You whimper and nod dumbly, screw your eyes tight as another wave of pleasure spread throughout your body in orgasmic tingles as he pulls his own climax with you. He presses his face against your neck as his hips lose any and all sense of tempo and when he finally stills, he holds himself deep inside as he leans back—with every breath, your bust heaves, sweat droplets running between them and attracting his gaze.

It pollutes his mind even more, it cripples his morality, because he is infatuated with fucking you like this again—is it the pollen at this point? 

''Bear with me'' He murmurs, gritting his teeth ''I need…more” his cock slowly sliding out of your tight pussy before sliding back inside with equal slowness, sliding through copious amounts of thin lubrication and cum. Your legs wrap around his waist and prevent him from pulling out even if he wants to—your understanding, your willingness is a kind of ecstasy to him.

The blue moons in his eyes are glimmering with an emotion you can’t put your finger on. What is he thinking about?

A part of him cares about you.

But there’s a depravity in his mind right now that enjoys seeing you like this—your hair is in disarray, several tendrils scattered across your face and constricting your view of him, sweat pricks at your hairline and down your back. There is something unmistakably exultant in turning you into a mess—such a mess of cum and tears. Gently, he brushes the tendrils out of your face, tenderness in his touch—that’s the part of him that cares.

“I need you on the floor, on all fours” —that's the part of him that's deprived tonight.

You can feel the desire. The thirst. The absolute beast threatening to tear from his skin.

Soldat loved to fuck you against solid ground. He never truly left, sometimes Bucky is on the verge of cracking and showing the color of the thing beneath, but you don’t mind, you are not scared, you never were. 

All he wants is for you to be filled, marked, bruised from staying up all night, taking his cock into your body until you are depleted of all your strength. Even then, he will fuck you. He doesn’t say more, but he groans as he gets up—what a sinful twist of his lips, watching you slowly get up, your legs are incapable of supporting your weight much longer.

Your cunt hurts, too—you feel his cum dripping down your thighs, making yourself position in doggy style, legs winched apart, everything exposed to his view and he goes to stand on knees behind you, eagerly holding up his cock then he lines up your hole. He twists your hair around his fist and yanks your head back, at the same time thrusting into you from behind as his fingers slide to dig into your ass. 

Bucky grunts as he slams into you “Я без ума от тебя” (I'm mad about you) his balls slapping against the sensitive nub. You choke on your words, this angle allowing him in far deeper than before. You arch your back more and dig your nails into the floor, clawing at the dirty ground as he relentlessly pounds into you. Sweat drips down his neck as he watches himself entering and exiting you.

He grips your hips tightly, slamming into your snatch with ferocity. A wave of pleasure suddenly overwhelms you, and the tingling is growing stronger once more.

“Я предан тебе…ты моя девочка”(im devoted to you)...(You are my girl)

You can only mewl and gasp as you are rocked back and forth on your knees, losing your breath every time his cock hammers into your cunt. You clench around him when you hear your full name spoken in his gravelly tenor.

He molds his front to your back, spearing through your tightening pussy. He grabs your hair and snaps your head back roughly before it travels down around your throat and squeezes tight while his other palm splays across your stomach.

His lips rests on the back of your shoulder, hissing

“Очевидно, что , нас чувства друк к други” (You can’t deny what's between us)

He carries on rutting you like an animal. Your skin slapping together, your pussy squirting around his cock as it invades your snatch repeatedly, making suction squelching noises with every thrust in of his length. It keeps on hitting your cervix, your nubile breasts swing with the force of your body rocking—you know that you will be sore later.

"You fill my heart, I fill your cunt"

But his words strike every inside your body and his honesty brings the euphoria of complete surrender.

“Enough, stop, it is too much”

You plea and nearly asphyxiate on the words as your orgasm bursts upwards from your abused cunt. A sob wracks your throat and he continues thrusting, riding your orgasm until your entire body is convulsing and you are desperately trying to wiggle out of Bucky’s arms with the last of your strength, but it's not enough compared to the strength of his arms holding your hips with renewed vigor, determined to breed you.

You catch sight of him from your peripheral vision, his eyes closed, his lips are silent, but he chatters with his fingertips, with the way his hands grip your hips, fingers digging in, the way he fucks you. And you thought that he chose that position, because he was embarrassed, but he was not—he wanted to disguise from you how much he was enjoying himself.

You have the strength to kill him, but here you are—so obedient.

His little submissive.

His expression is dreamy, floating. Soaked in pleasure—breathless, possessed, lost in the volcanic eruptions of fever, lust and delight. Your pussy cradles around his dick as he pounds into you from behind.

“James” 

His name on your lips sooth a place deep inside him, and the urgent need to hear it in again pulses in his heart, making himself guilty of such a secret, he must perforce hold it—

—but he shamelessly let out a loud moan, he never felt so out of control. You are a disease worse than the pollen itself.

“Bucky” 

That makes him groan like an animal, noises coming out of him that you never heard before, he was never this vocal. The groans are desperate, endless, but the sound of his name is unspeakably erotic to him. He can’t get enough of this. He will die without it, without you.

“You look too pretty when you’re getting fucked like that” he blurts out, without even thinking.

There is already a fissure in his mind and madness just rushes through. Praising him puts him on edge, it’s something he never thought he wanted or needed. You wreak havoc on his life.

He squeezes his eyes shut—to utilize the entire spectrum of the other senses, moans of ecstasy crescendos and his breaths come in short instances, each with a slight pause in between as his body is rack with his orgasm, cum is flooding out of your cunt, dripping of you onto the hardwood floor and there is a charm about it that makes it unspeakably desirable for Bucky.

In this stillness, he finally finds serenity. 

All you want to do is crawl back beneath the mound blankets—he gently picks you up and you smile crookedly at him, something about your smile loosening a knot in his chest, because holding you in his arms is more natural to him than his own heartbeat.

Morning came in through the blinds cutting everything into ribbons, but the light can make the most vulgar things tolerable—you are aware of the aching hips, and your whole body hurts like hell as if you have been run over by a train.

Bucky steps out of the bathroom, freshly showered with a white towel around his lean hips. He takes a half step toward the bed, and his jaw works for a moment before he asks

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired, did you tell Sam what happened?”

“No, of course not. He is thankful that you helped us” He says and rakes his fingers through his damp hair, making it stand on end “He invited us to Louisiana”

You barely resists smiling at him “Okay”

He raises a brow “Just like that, okay?”

“If you give me my bracelet back”

You both look at the bracelet around his right hand. Then he bites his lip as he grins.

“Not happening” he says, his tone flattening and he can't help the smirk that tips up the corners of his mouth.

“Guess I need to buy a new one then” You peel back the covers, indicating for him to get in and you watch him climb next to you “With your name on it”

His palm reaches up to wrap around the back of your head, his fingers tangling in the depths of your hair, pulling you closer, his lips hovering over yours. Everything about him pleases you.

Not just his looks, but his patience and his kindness. He is an obsession waiting to happen. Kissing him is terrifying, breathing the same air makes your knees weak, a liquid sensation swooping throughout your stomach—but you've been betrayed, stabbed by every single person in your life, the body heals, but it injures the heart and the wound lasts a lifetime. You are scared of love, scared of these new feelings, scared of trusting anyone, but you are trying—that’s why you gently press a kiss to his mouth.

(Her kisses are deliberate and polished. When she kisses me—she doesn't want me. She has me and knows it.)

Bucky throws himself onto the couch next to Sam, slewing his eyes over to him.

"So you are sleeping and living together, but you are still not in a relationship?"

He takes a long sip of his drink when he hears the words, tips his head back against the couch, and decides he could…maybe live with that.

"Yeah"

Sam’s lips tighten to suppress a smile "That's a bit weird, Buck"

He chuckles, low under his breath "The part where I live with my ex-coworker or the part where we sleep together?"

James takes a deep breath, and Sam can see his blue eyes searching for his, like he is looking for an answer.

”Maybe it is what it's meant to be for now” A frown settles on Bucky’s face as he considers that “She has a lot to experience, too. If you pressure her with anything, you might lose her completely”

“I don't want to be in love, but she is making me, Sam” he sighs, a headache blooming right between his eyes. He rubs at the spot, stalling as he tries to figure out what he wants to say “But you are right, she needs to heal”

Several emotions swirl in Sam’s eyes. Worry, sadness, maybe even intrigue. But not judgment. Never. “Did she agree to go to Wakanda?”

He wets his dry lips and says the most basic truth:

“No, she is too untrustworthy, I can’t believe she even agreed to come here”

Sam sees it as hope—and he wants to put that light within his friend, too “But she did”

They can’t talk about it anymore, not when they hear you, Sarah and the kids coming back, and when your gazes meet, your soft smile and the look in your eyes, they are the best interpreter of your mind—you are truly happy, seeing you like that makes him feel like he can single-handedly vanquish an army.

He has outlasted all family, desires, dreams, his grief alone is left entire—sometimes visiting the lonely desolation of nightmares, they are gleamings of his empty heart—Bucky is a heap of ashes, but meeting you—kindled him back into fire.

Oh my goshhh thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed this project!

More of this ex!Asset AU? - MASTERLIST

[pixiexdusts-world]

Incorrect Quote

Natasha: So… I’ve seen you’ve been spending a lot of time with Bucky recently.

Y/n: No, Natasha, it's not what it looks like, I swear.

Natasha: Oh really? So no reason for me to be jealous?

Y/n: No! You’re the only one for me.

Natasha: Is that so?

Y/n: I promise! Bucky and I are just dating, okay? They’re my partner.

Natasha: So there are no best-friends-feelings involved?

Y/n: You are still my one and only best friend! They’re just the love of my life, nothing more!

Natasha: But I’m still the platonic love of your life, right?

Y/n: Of course bro!

Natasha: Bro...

Bucky: What the-

[lives-in-midgard]

Taking Care Of You

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Summary: When Chris finds out that you're sick he wants to be there for you.

Word Count: 1165

Request: I saw requests are open can I ask for a fluff one with Evans and reader is sick and he's there to care for her? It can be hubby/wife and bf/gf or even best friends up to you. Thank you!! [See request here]

A/N: Thank you for sending me this request! I hope you like it! The picture above inspired the parts were they were facetiming.

Divider made by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

It’s already been two months since your boyfriend Chris Evans left to film his new movie. You missed each other a lot but face timing and texting made it more bearable. Chris tried to call you as often as possible and when he didn’t have time, he sent you a text message. Because he was away filming Chris and you decided that it would be the best if Dodger stayed at your place and when you were at work his brother would look after him.

After picking up Dodger after work, you weren’t feeling well, so you decided to take Dodger for a walk. You thought that it would help when you suddenly sneezed. When you got home you suddenly felt cold and decided to go to bed and watch a movie while cuddling with Dodger. After a while your phone rang and when you looked at it, you started to smile because it was Chris.

“Hey, honey.” He said with a smile.

“Hey, babe.”

“You’re already in bed?” Chris asked a little worried.

“Oh yeah, I wanted to lie down for a while…work was really exhausting today.” You said because you didn’t want to worry him.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry you’ve had such a hard day.” Chris said softly.

“How was your day so far?” You asked and suddenly had to sneeze.

“Bless you, my love.” Chris said and made you blush.

“Well, my day was pretty good. Filming is going great so far.”

“That’s amazing Chris.” You said and sneezed twice and then started to shiver.

“Are you sure you’re okay, sweetheart?”

“It’s probably just a little cold.” You said, trying to smile.

“But please promise to let me know if it gets worse.” Chris told you in a worried tone and you nodded.

“Okay, I promise.” You talked for a while about everything that came to your mind and Chris also told you a lot about his day and his new co-stars.

“I miss you so much and can’t wait to be home with you again.” Chris said after a while.

“I miss you too, babe.” You said and you both said I love you, before saying goodbye because Chris had to go.

When you woke up the next morning, you felt so much sicker than the day before. Now you weren’t only sneezing, but you also started to cough and felt slightly dizzy. You decided that it would be the best if you stayed home and called in sick at work. After calling at work, you called Scott to ask if he could pick up Dodger because you were sick.

Most of the time you stayed in bed all day and only got out of bed to get something to eat. When you were lying in bed again with at least two blankets, you suddenly heard your phone ringing. You started to smile, but it quickly faded because you knew how worried Chris can be sometimes, especially when he is away. But you didn’t want to ignore his call, so you picked up and tried to smile.

“Hey, sweetheart.” You greeted each other and Chris knew immediately that you weren’t feeling well. There was no chance of denial, so you told him how you really felt.

“Oh no, I wish I could be home and take care of you.” Chris mumbled with a sad expression in his eyes.

“Should I come home?” Chris then suddenly asked.

“No, Chris it’s okay… really.” Then you told him that Dodger is staying at his brother’s home because you didn’t feel the energy of going for a walk with him and thought it would be the best. Chris understood that and hoped that you feel better soon. You only talked for a few more minutes because you felt so tired. Chris understood that, but he was also so sad that he couldn’t be there for you. You didn’t sleep very well that night, you woke up a few times because you were either too cold or too warm. You felt a little better in the afternoon than in the morning. Later when Chris called you, he sadly couldn’t facetime, so you could only talk without seeing each other. You talked for a while when you suddenly heard a knock on the front door.

“Wait, someone is at the door, I’ll call you back babe.” You said, wondering who was at the door. You walked to your apartment door, a bit slowly because you were dizzy. When you opened the door, you couldn’t believe who was standing there.

“Chris, what are you doing here?”

“I came here to take care of my girl. I couldn’t stay away from you any longer, especially when I knew that you’re sick.” Chris said as he walked closer to you.

“Oh, Chris thank you.” You said and started to shake.

“Come on honey, let’s get you to bed.” When he noticed that you were getting dizzy, Chris put his hand on your back and guided you to your room. You laid back down in your bed and Chris gently kissed your forehead.

“I’ll go and make you some tea.”

When Chris came back a few minutes later, he placed the cup of tea on your bedside table. You took a few sips and Chris held your back.

“Now let’s cuddle.” Chris said with a smile.

“Are you sure, I don’t want you to get sick.” You asked as Chris already made himself comfortable next to you.

“I’m sure, sweetheart.” You smiled and Chris then wrapped his arms around you. You slept for a while until you felt Chris touching your forehead.

“Sorry that I woke you up honey, but you have a fever.” He said in a soothing voice.

“Oh” You mumbled tiredly, and Chris tucked a hear behind your ear with a worried look on his face.

“Do you have any medicine here?” He asked and you nodded and told him where to find it.

“I’ll get it quick.” Chris said and gave you a smile. After a few minutes he was back with the medicine in his hand.

“Can you sit up for me, sweetheart? Just for a second, so you can take your medicine.” Chris asked and you nodded. Then he helped you to sit up, so your back was leaning against the headboard of the bed. Chris helped you take your medication and then you laid back down.

“Thank you for coming home to me.” You said after you cuddled again.

“I would come home anytime for you.” Chris held you tight and rubbed your back softly.

For the next few days, he took care of you as best as he could. Chris made sure you took your medicine, made you a bath, cooked for you and was there to give you cuddles. A few days later you felt so much better, but Chris still didn’t want to leave you, so he stayed another week to spend some time with his girl.

Taglist:

@marvelogic | @rogersbarber | @eviebuggg | @nicoline1998enilocin | @kandis-mom | @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 | @cutedisneygrl | @buckys-wintersoldier

[angelltheninth]

Upside-Down Kisses with Spiderverse Characters

Pairing: Peter B. Parker, Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy, Miguel O'Hara, Hobie Brown x Reader

Tags: fluff, establised relationship, teasing, kissing, making out, playful biting

A/N: Writing the thing! The iconic thing!

Peter will kiss you when you're around the house doing mundane things. He'll walk up to you, tapping you on the shoulder first, a wink thrown your way before his lips press against yours, his stuble feeling scratcy and ticklish on your cheek.

Miles sneaks up behind you, fully invisible until you feel his soft lips on your cheek, one after the other before you blink and there he is, in front of you. You found him, now you get a proper kiss on the lips as your prize or how ever many you want.

Gwen hesitates to let you pull her mask down enough for a kiss but relents after the first kiss. Over the mask it won't feel the same, she won't feel your lips properly, or the shaky sigh you let out when her fingers brush your cheek as she pulls your face back for more.

Miguel teases as pushes his tongue into your mouth after he bites at your lips slowly, humming into your mouth as he slowly descends down from his web. Once he's low enough he flips over and picks you up to carry you to the couch.

Hobie kisses you many times over at a very awkward angle before he figures out the right one, where your lips fall together like puzzle pieces. He takes his sweet time with you, each kiss a bit longer then the last until you can't go without kisses.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

How about: showing Frank Castle your new lingerie? It can be fluff, it can be smut, do with it what you please! <3

Spin For Me.

frank castle x female reader

warnings - allusions to sex. cursing.

valentines masterlist. masterlist. inbox.

“Keep your eyes closed, Frank. I’m serious.”

He’s grinning, both hands pressed to his face as proof. He’s sat on the edge of the bed, waiting patiently for you to come out of the bathroom.

“Come on, baby. Don’t think I can wait any longer.”

“Good things come to those who wait!” you yell through the wood. Frank laughs, shaking his head.

You finally swing open the door, leaning against the frame with a hand on your hip. You take him in for a moment - the smile on his face, his relaxed stance, the way his sweatpants hug his thighs just right. Inhaling deeply, you clear your throat.

“Open ‘em, Frankie.”

Frank blinks in the lamplight, adjusting to the brightness. When his eyes land on you, his breath hitches in his throat. He rakes his gaze all the way down your body and back up again, slow and sticky sweet. His irises darken, lust blooming across his skin.

“Shit, baby.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Goddamn.”

You push yourself off the doorframe, standing up straight.

“Spin f’me.”

“Hmm?”

“Spin for me, baby. Let me see you.”

You twirl around gently, like a ballerina in a music box. When you stop in your place, Frank gestures with his finger for you to spin the other way.

It’s almost voyeuristic, the way he’s devouring you with his stare. You feel like predator and prey, in the moonlight of your bedroom.

“Prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.”

The lace hugs your body exactly, every dip and curve accentuated. The colour compliments your skin perfectly, and your mind is running a mile a minute wondering what Frank is going to do to you first.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Frankie.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” he chuckles. “Yes it is.”

He stands up finally, making his way over to you. You’re waiting for him to twist his fingers into the material and rip, like he usually does. Instead, he runs his fingertips over the lace trim on your chest, gentle and featherlight. He dances his touch down your sides and onto the top of your underwear, playing with the band softly.

“Want you to keep it on,” he murmurs. “Wanna see this lace against your skin when I eat you out.”

You exhale shakily, nodding your head.

“Plus,” he whispers, leaning down to mouth at your ear. “This pretty thing gives me something to hold onto. Better grip when I fuck you into the mattress.”

You drop your head forward onto his chest, bare skin warm against your forehead. You can feel the way his lungs are heaving, just as buzzed on the anticipation as you are.

“You’ve given me a gift, honey. Now let me give you one.”

He drops to his knees in front of you. You’ve never seen anything prettier.

[g4yforethan]

issues

pairing: bucky barnes x male!reader

summary: after a night during a mission, reader and bucky become more than just enemies

warnings: cursing, top!bucky, bottom!reader

a/n: from a request i got awhile ago!! i love the classic enemies to lovers storyline :00

you and bucky were on a mission in sokovia to receive information and plans from HYDRA. prior to this, you begged steve to let you skip out on this since you and bucky weren't the greatest of friends. it wasn't like you hated each other it was just that you two never seemed to click and always had something to say to each other. steve denied this and insisted this mission would rid of that and bring you both together or at least he hoped. after receiving intel about HYDRA's weapons, the two fo you decided to call it for a night. you and bucky were staying in a motel several miles away from HYDRA's base. when you walked in, bucky went to go take a shower and you decided to lay in the bed that the both of you were going to be sharing.

you were flipping through a magazine since phones weren’t allowed on the mission when you saw bucky standing in the bathroom. he had just gotten out and was drenched in water that dripped down his hair and his hairy, muscular chest. he saw you staring at him and you turned the other way out of embarrassment. “don’t be looking for too long cause you ain’t gonna be getting anything.” you rolled your eyes but secretly thought of him naked and being on top of you. he laid down next to you with only underwear on and began humming a song. “bucky what are you doing?” you questioned him.

“listen i’m bored and i got nothing else to do. so mind your business.” this angered you. “why have you always been so rude to me? steve put us together so that we could hopefully become better partners but clearly this hasn’t been working. i mean truly what more do you want from me?” he stopped you and gave you a kiss on your lips. you stared at him in confusion. "why did you do that?" you said while also blushing. "because i've always liked you. i just didn't know how you would handle it." he replied back with his hand on your cheek. "that's so stupid." you said before giving him another kiss and slowly making your way on top of him.

you started leaving him kisses on his neck as he started to rub his hands through your back and waist. you started going down and kissing his belly before pulling his underwear down revealing his long, thick cock. "suck it baby." you listened to his command and swallowed every inch of his cock. his moans filled the room as he grabbed your head and forced you to fit his entire dick inside your mouth. you obeyed and continued sucking his dick for a few more minutes. "fuck stop y/n im gonna cum." you stopped and looked at him in the eyes. "you wanna fuck me till you cum?" you asked him. "fuck yes baby." bucky said before grabbing you and flipping you so that your ass was faced towards him.

he started licking your hole and teasing it by putting his finger inside. you moaned and begged for his cock to be inside of you. "easy there baby boy i'm getting there." he took his cock and slowly slid his tip inside your hole. "fuck you're so tight y/n." he said before shoving his whole dick inside. bucky went at a slow and soft pace but was secretly containing himself from what he could do. he started going at a faster speed and grabbed your waist as well. he pounded your hole for what seemed like eternity but you craved more of his cock. "fuck bucky right here." he slammed his dick and hit your prostate leaving a sensation all over your body. "fuck baby im gonna cum." bucky moaned as he filled your hole with his thick cum.

he gave you kisses on your back before laying down on his back and closing his eyes. "so that's what you've been wanting to do all this time?" you asked him. "honestly since the first time we've met but things happened you know?" you laughed and put your head on his chest. he kisses your head and played with your hair. "we're not gonna tell steve about this right?" you asked bucky. "oh fuck no. this just stays between you and i baby boy." he smiled before kissing you again and closing his eyes to go to sleep.

[nouearth]

let me in.

peter parker x male reader.

summary: peter struggles to balance between life and work, and it's ruining his relationship with you.

wc: 6.6k. genre: smut. warnings: andrew!peter, college au, established relationship, brief fighting, brief injury and blood mention (nosebleed), misunderstandings, peter reveals his identity, dry-humping, over the pants (or suit) handjob, body worshipping, lots of sweat, fingering, frotting, riding, spandex fetish, reader has a thing for peter in his spider-man suit!

You were starting to feel antsy. You could feel it—the nerves kicking in again. Anticipation—a suspension of doubt—made your hands clammy at first, but it was the time that made your hands clutch nothing but air. You rubbed the sweat off your hands onto your pants, your knees not so comforting with their pointedness.

Acceptance—when it was evident that Peter was late, again.

Birthdays have never been a big deal in your family. Sure, it was great that you had the privilege to live another year. To witness yourself grow older, to stand a few inches taller, to live a little more knowledgeable than yesterday. But growing up with parents who had to constantly work, well-late into the depths of night, it had never been more than a birthday wish that had greeted you in the mornings, and bid you slumber in the evenings. Since then, you knew not to expect anything.

If only Peter hadn’t made such a big deal out of it this year.

“Excuse me?” The familiar timbre of a voice speared your thoughts; deep and tunneling as you were transfixed on the glasses of water before you. Yours had been refilled, though a little sparse compared to Peter’s full cup.

Your eyes widened with feigned curiosity, a small smile plastered alongside to hopefully negate any annoyance from the waiter—because you expected what he was about to follow up with.

“Hey… uh,” he shifted on his feet awkwardly, eye bags weighing heavier than the last time he had checked up on you. You looked around, surprised by the amount of patrons who had filled the space around you while you were daydreaming. Laughter and smiles completely lit up the room. The dim lights were practically stationed in the restaurant for decoration, and seemingly to spotlight your ‘dinner for one’ status. “I’m sorry, but… we have no more tables to fill, and if you aren’t ordering soon, then we’ll have to give your table up for the next party...”

It was obvious that you weren’t, you hadn’t even torn into the buttery bread rolls that were piping hot forty-five minutes ago. Now, the fat had solidified into spotty, yellow clumps, though you doubt that would’ve been enough to detract from the quality of the rolls.

“Oh, I—“ You pulled out your phone to check your messages again. Nothing. Swiped down to refresh your conversation with Peter. The loading icon felt like it took forever, you half-expected that your phone was updating the thread with Peter’s messages that somehow got lost in the void of the restaurant’s spotty signal. 

And nothing.

“I—yeah… uh. I-I’ll head out.” It was embarrassing. Even if the waiter had given you a sympathetic smile, you hated knowing that you wasted his time. You hated that you selfishly occupied a seat when someone else would’ve been done with dinner by the time you exited. 

“Thanks—” 

You hated that you had your hopes up for things to be different.

Again.

The night was dreary. Not even the wind had greeted you like the others when you stepped out. Soft and fluttering against your skin, but scolding enough to make you put your coat back on. Luckily, your apartment wasn’t too far from the restaurant, a fifteen minute walk at most if you speed-walked. Shoving your hands in your coat pockets, you then ambled along the sidewalks, wallowing in your feelings with a playlist that belted in your ears once you plugged your earbuds in. 

You didn’t have the energy left to hurry home.

Once you crossed the last intersection, you felt a little bit more at ease. Seeing the familiar apartment complex at the end of the block picked your pace up a step more. You paused your music once you neared the entrance, just a turn away before you could finally bury yourself in your bed. 

You reached into your pocket to grab your wallet. The weight in your palms instantly reminding you to deposit the cash tips sometime soon before the stretch of the leather had become unbearable to fit in your pocket. 

Your walk slowed as your attention was fixated on your wallet, fumbling it open clumsily to retrieve your keycard. In midst, you caught a glimpse of a photo print of you and Peter, standing shoulder to shoulder with the biggest grins as Peter had a peace sign above your head, doubling as bunny ears. Honeymoon phase, they’d call it. Where you were beginning to discover more about Peter, and Peter was beginning to discover more about you. Likes. Dislikes. Hobbies. Memories. It felt like yesterday when you two were spending every second of your day with each other. 

Now, it would be a miracle if Peter returned a call.

With the keycard in your hand, you turned the corner, and towards the entrance, the smiles from the photo print reflecting onto yours as you could vividly hear Peter’s pleas to retake them again. The flash of the cameras always made him blink.

If only you had been focusing on where you were going instead of the still image of the first memory between you and Peter, maybe you could have avoided the collision altogether when you approached the door. You suddenly found yourself on your back, facing the night sky as clusters of stars twinkled in laughter. There was a slight throbbing to your forehead, a mark you’d reckon would appear as purple within the next 12 hours despite the painless… pain.

“Oh god— I’m so, so, so, sorry! Let me—“ If the beating your face took to the door hadn’t snapped you back to reality already, the familiar face before you certainly pulled you out of your thoughts like whiplash once he helped you back onto your feet. Your vision instantly cleared of haze, as if his simple presence was your remedy.

“(M/N)?” Peter interrupted himself, his eyes widening. You could see the wheels turning in his head when the dim light spotlighted your features: eyes, nose, lips; flesh and bone that he was well-acquainted with.

“Peter—“ You took a moment to scan him. It was like all the other times he had been late. His fringe; stuck to his forehead with a mixture of sweat and water, the latter being a last resort to clean himself up. His knuckles; bruised and torn with minuscule cuts barely able to conceal the truth behind his scars. His necktie; clumsily done with the knots coming loose. Though, whether the silk unfurled by Peter’s own sloppiness, or by the increasing frailty of his fingers that had become susceptible by even the most delicate material of neckties; it was futile to mention it to him. You knew he’d shut you down with another excuse.

“W-what are you doing here? Are you okay? I-I’m so sorry—I was on my way to you and—Oh god, you’re bleeding!“ Breathless, panting, not only because he was panicking from running late. 

But because of adrenaline. You could see it in his eyes. The alertness. The high.

“What—“ You wiped your nose with the back of your hand, only to see a smear of blood blotted across your skin. “Shit.” 

Another thick drop splattered in greeting.

“Peter, it’s a nosebleed. You’re acting like I had my arm chopped off or something.” You’ve been applying pressure to your nasal bridge, pinching it tightly to barricade the stream of blood. All while you had your head tilted over Peter’s sink, in case of the blood leaking past your hold. “And how long does it take to find a cotton ball?”

“I’m trying—“ His one-sided game of hide and seek with the bag of cotton balls was leaning in favor of the latter. Medicine cabinet: empty. Bedside drawer: foreign coins and bills. You were watching him from the corner of your eye, a small limp to his step when the lightbulb seemingly lit up overhead and had him dashing towards the kitchen. 

“Found it!”

Peter’s touch was delicate. Tender, like the forming bruise on your forehead. He was adamant on taking care of you, even if frankly—you would’ve done it much faster had it been a solo endeavor. Cotton balls were plugged up into your nose, and a warm face towel was laid across your forehead. If an intruder had the audacity to rob Peter’s apartment, you’d imagine you would find yourself lucking out. Peter joked that you looked like patient zero.

“All done. See? Nothing to cry about.” He was joking again, the smug smile across his face a clear indication of it—and the laugh that he couldn’t help but contain.

“Ha. Ha. Thanks, Dr. Parker. Now, how much do I owe you? I’m paying outta pocket.” For a brief moment, you forgot that you were upset earlier. All because of how nice it was to actually see him again. He pressed a kiss to your lips, a comforting gesture if his constant apologies weren’t enough. Stay focus. 

“So, about dinner…”

“Oh,” Disappointment softened Peter’s smile. You could see it tightening, even as he was organizing his room. Though, it was really a matter of tossing his clothes on the floor back into the laundry basket. “Listen, my… bike got stolen and—“

“Peter…” You sighed, pinching your nose bridge because you feared another avalanche of a nosebleed incoming. That, and because it helped you maintained your composure. “You said that the last time. Three times, actually.”

“Third time’s… the charm?” He was joking. Again. But even he wasn’t laughing at it because he’d been cornered. Called out. Embarrassed that he thought that would even work on you. Embarrassed that he thought he could get away with it. 

Again.

“Peter.” You called out, straightening your posture against the headboard of the bed when he sat at the end of the mattress. Shit, it’s happening.

“I… I don’t know how to…” The veins in his hands, they lined perfectly to the cuts, scrapes, and bruises on his knuckles. Clear as day now that he wasn’t hidden under a dim light. “I just…”

He had his hands around his face, rubbing his temples, his cheeks, his nose, anything that could alleviate the accelerating drill of his heartbeat. 

You were hopeful to get an answer out of him. A proper explanation. But it pained you, knowing that in a few seconds—what he would tell you would only confirm your yearning suspicions of his strange behavior.

He doesn’t love you anymore. He’s cheating. You’ve become a nuisance, an absolute bore in his life. Actually, you’re a bad influence on him. You’re holding him back. He needs to let go of you to accomplish better things. He never loved you.

It’s happening. It’s fucking happening. All he has to do is say those words. The dreaded five words you’ve heard once from him in a nightmare.

I want to break up.

“If you want to break up, just say it.” 

It sounded softer in your head, but the tears that had welled in your eyes finally bursted into droplets. They ran down your cheeks, and your voice broke during its pursuit. 

Something commanded you to let those words slip out. 

Maybe it was the ghost that you and him had been theorizing about since the night you’ve helped him move into the apartment floor above you. Carrie; you nicknamed her, and Peter would scold you for doing so because he had the suspicions that giving her a backstory would ultimately reassess his home as a possessing ground. To this day, he swore he saw a shadow looming in the corner of his room on a perfectly stormy night.

Or maybe it was the months of frustration that you had accumulated, snowballed because of your own selfish reasons to continue being with Peter for as long as you could, even if you saw the signs, because you couldn’t bear to see yourself without him. Live, when you two had promised so many futures together.

“What? No, (M/N), that’s not—“ He jolted up at the mere mention of separating from you. There was a chill. The room suddenly felt colder, and then warmer—scorching hot, when the glossiness of your gaze reflected into his. He began joining you by your side. “Hey, hey, I would never—“

He broke into a cold sweat. He’d never seen you like this. And to think that he was the root of this—of your pain—it was all overwhelming.

“Peter, there’s always something going on with you. Y-you don’t text me for days. You ignore my calls. You disappear without telling me. You’re always late. And… you’re always hurt? And you think that I’m dumb enough to not notice that you aren’t? How you’re limping? How you’re always bruised and—For god’s sake, Peter, I’m just as smart as you, we have the same GPA and—“ You took a breather, a gulp because you were rambling now. Your cheeks felt hot, from your sudden outburst and from embarrassment, because the latter half of your rant immediately negated the idea of some kind of affair.

“Okay, maybe you aren’t cheating, but—“ You felt him tug you into his arms, but you wouldn’t budge. Instead, you pushed away, edging to the other side of the bed to face him.

“I would never.” He sighed, his arms dropping as soon as you removed yourself from his embrace. 

“Then what is it? You’re leaving me in the dark here. I barely see you anymore, you know that?”

“I know.” He was biting his lips. Chewing, as if he was internally debating something. A decision that could either ruin you, ruin him, or both.

“Then?”

You waited. Watched his fingers fiddle with one another as he continued turning the screws in his head. Your heart would jump whenever he would open his mouth, anticipating whatever had caused so much turmoil in his life, but there was a last minute decision that kept him silent.

Crickets.

Nothing.

“I don’t… I don’t know what you’re doing. But you’re getting hurt and I’m just… worried.” Your gaze dropped to his hands again. Pale, veiny, and full of life yet they’ve looked like they’ve been worn out. Torn. “At least tell me it’s not gambling.”

“Well—in a way with my life, it kind of is like gambling—“ He thinly smiled, hoping it would at least make you crack a smile.

“Peter!” You scoffed, nudged his side with your elbow out of frustration, then surrendered when you brought your knees up to your chest, and buried your head in between your knees. “Not funny.”

“Okay, okay, just… you can’t tell anyone.” His voice softened.

“We all know that between you and I, you’re the one with the running mouth.” Your voice muffled in the space between your legs, hands tucked around your nape.

“I’m serious, (M/N)” Pleading now, he held your hand in hopes to get ahold of your attention again, squeezing so you’d look at him. You do.

“I won’t tell.” It was a promise. Peter didn’t need you to clarify because he could see it in your eyes, honest and sincere. Determined, as if you were willing to protect him.

“Okay… and also, don’t… freak out.” Peter was off the bed now, wandering in the middle of his room as he rolled his shoulders back, relaxing the muscles in his back like a wrestler preparing for his next fight. He gestured for you to follow him out to the stairway, out into the cold. 

“Why would I freak—“ There was something around his wrist. No, wrists. You thought they were watches, but there were two devices around him. They were strapped with a similar black leather to your wallet, to Peter’s, and a red button protruded in the middle of it. “Peter, what are you—“

You stopped a few feet before Peter, watching him closely, yet afar. Afraid, yet intrigued. Concerned, because he was on the ledge of the staircase now, perched like an animal. Yet there was a grin on his face. Not crazed like a madman considering he was acting like one, but foolish. Goofy, giddy like the times he’d hide stuff from you, and wait until you’d notice it was gone.

“Like I said, don’t freak out.” 

“Peter, what are you even—“

With that, he opened his arms like wings that spanned across his back and flipped into the air as if the wind would carry him across city to city. As if he was recruited as a sponsor to the heavenly gods with the incredible height he’d taken off in, pursuing the clouds, the wind, the stars, and the night simultaneously all in multiple slings.

Into. The. Air.

Into the fucking air.

You raced forward with a yelp, as if you would’ve made it in time to catch him. To catch his hand before he fell. To hold him one last time before he’d land on the ground and shatter every bone in his body.

If he had landed. 

No, you blinked once—twice—no, at least in the double digits because this was all a dream. It was all a dream, right? That you caught a glimpse of Peter somehow slingshotting himself from window to window, from rooftop to satellite, like it was a mundane day job one had to endure to put food on the table, to pay the bills.

Right?

You paced around the stairs, raced towards one floor to another, bending over the railings because—Peter disappeared. He was gone. If he had smashed into something, you would’ve heard him. You would’ve heard him in yelp in pain. You would’ve heard the metal railings shake. You would’ve heard him cry for help. 

Instead, you heard the sound of wind. Whistling as it sailed leaves to the west of you. 

As if it carried a hint along the way.

“Peter?! Peter—Fuck, fuck!” You followed the sound of the whistle. The source of the pitchy sound. Fluttering when your head spun closer to the note, wavering when you were getting colder, then peaking when your gaze lifted, higher, and higher, until it landed on him.

Peter.

Peter, perched over the rooftop of the apartment complex like a bug. The moonlight framed his silhouette, emphasized the texture of his suit; protruding grids that encased him like a nest; and you’ve never been more intimidated. 

Red and blue spandex tightly-fitted over the muscles and body of the man you have been more than well-acquainted with. You’ve seen it before. It was familiar. On the news, on the papers, on the internet.

“You’re freaking out!” He yelled out, clearly amused in your frozen state of shock.

He peered over at you with a smug grin, aimed directly at your bafflement before pulling a mask over his head. It was the icing on top in rendering you utterly incapable of stringing up any words. The lens of his mask reflected off of you, mirrored your astonishment in clear display, and you sensed that would be a memory Peter would be carrying to his death bed.

“What. The. Fuck.”

“Okay, so, just to clarify,” You were winded, still recovering from the heart attack Peter had nearly given you after he took you on for a stroll in the night. Into the sky.

Luckily his bed was right beside you. As soon as your legs gave out, you fell back into his mattress, and stared into the ceiling, speechless. Peter joined you after, bringing you into his arms. He’d always been aware that touching you in any way or form brought you back to reality. “You are… not a cosplayer?”

“Honestly? That would make me way more money than what I’m making right now.” You couldn’t keep your hands or eyes off of him. Peter was still in his suit, and that gave you the perfect opportunity to run your hands over the webbed texture of the spandex.

“Just a few more months until my lease is up. I can move in, and that’ll help with the rent. For both of us.” It felt like silicone, or rubber. Whatever it was, it was durable considering how thin it felt in your fingers when you rubbed it in between them.

“Just like that? You’re not mad?” Your hands came to a halt when Peter suddenly took them, and rested your palm on his cheek, coincidentally on the cut that you’ve never noticed. 

“Why would I be mad?” Quieter. Your voice mellowed into a whisper as you catalogued the amount of beatings his skin had taken. Caressed the marks you were too selfish to notice. Exhaustion wore on his face, and yet he never looked so peaceful as he gazed into your eyes. 

Pretty eyes, Peter thought. Ones that could motivate him to get back up after falling. That feels nice, when you pressed a kiss to his damaged skin. A touch that made him believe there was a reason to suffer, to be great, to be all of this.

“Well, for starters, it’s your birthday and… I completely blew it.” Peter closed his eyes when you began brushing his hair back, knotted in cold sweats, but you fanned your fingers out to undo them until they felt somewhat tidy in your strokes. Smooth and soft. He sighed, “Again.”

“Can’t entirely blame you. How would I look if I were to complain about missing you, when you’re out there risking your life for everyone?” It wasn’t a question, but you wanted him to look at you. To respond. And he does, when you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, and he returned it with a silken one, a following grin. “All I wish for was that you told me sooner, I guess.”

“Yeah,” He figured he’d save the details of the ‘friends’ he had made along the way some other time. For now, it was all about you. “Wow, you’re not even going to wish for me to be safe?”

“Hey, you know what I mean! That’s a given.” You rubbed at his chest, finding yourself quickly accustomed to the scales of his costume. The red was striking against your palms, comforting almost. 

“Still. I want to hear you say it.” Peter rolled onto his side and slipped an arm under your back, scooting closer to you. His signature goofy grin never failed to knock a similar one out of you. And unwillingly drawn out, when he began pinching at your sides in quick snips.

“Stop—“ You laughed, your hands occupying themselves to defend your body from his quick attacks. But Peter was fast, avoiding your arms and hands to find another opening that you’d abandon. “Stop, stop! Stay safe! Happy?!”

Closer and closer, you found yourself beneath him, framed by his body as he took your arms above your head and pinned them secured with his tight grasps.“Incredibly.”

Your legs spread open to make room for his body, only for Peter to wrap them around his waist, to press his body into you, kissing you like he was driven to steal your breath.

“This your way of making it up to me?” You broke apart from the kiss, only briefly, before the taste of Peter, the softness of his lips reeled you back in for another kiss. Languidly paced until one’s accelerating lust for one another had taken ahold of the wheel and shifted gears, into a weightiness that kept your mouth parted open while Peter’s impulse to explore you had become evidently clear.

“Problem with that?” He’d been driving his hips into you, grinding his front with your own. Both clothed, infuriatingly covered, but the pressure in between your bulge and Peter’s was too pleasing to ignore. Too satisfying to make him stop. “I should take this off—“

“No, wait—“ You grabbed his forearm when he reached back to unzip his suit. To be honest, you never thought about how he even got in or out of the suit in the first place, but that was beside the point. Something about this suit, this costume, whatever you wanted to call it; it was a turn-on. 

The way it fit snug against Peter’s body; how every fiber of muscle was stretching the material to its limit. Maybe you were just turned on because you associated it with him being a hero. For god’s sake, that was as much of an aphrodisiac one could be if you happened to be saved from a falling tower. 

Or maybe, it was simply how Peter looked in it. Unabashedly handsome, yet himself, seemingly courting you further into his webs, as if he hadn’t already from day one.

“Keep it on. I like it.” You muttered, fiddling with the collar of his suit. It was snapped on tight, but you managed to slip a finger or two past, to pull at it with a stretch.

“Then how are we going to…” He abandoned the few inches he had unzipped, providing a small relief to the squeeze around his body while his broad back was bare and tense towards the ceiling. 

“Then, you’ll take it off. But for now, I just want to…” One hand was on his nape, pulling him down for another heated kiss, while the other traveled south between your body and his. Further, lower, until you cupped him at his crotch. Rubbing, squeezing, and palming at the thick, growing center. “Want to try something…”

You could feel him smiling, a crooked one flattened against your own grin when he whispered, “I should’ve told you sooner, shouldn’t I.”

“You think?”

You were getting harder, your pants beginning to tighten around the center as you palmed him. It was a heavy handful in the beginning, but Peter’s bulge began to unfurl. It didn’t take long, didn’t take much of a stroke for him to unravel from his tuck and thicken into a full-blown erection towards the left side of his thigh. It pointed downwards, the plump head evident through his suit, and you were beginning to drool in Peter’s mouth at the haziest image of it.

“Come on, I need to get out of this… It’s killing me.” It wasn’t like Peter to beg. It was charming, cute, sexy, all the synonyms that could describe how you felt all day and every day about him, and you squeezed, because he wasn’t being patient with you.

“Birthday boy gets what he wants, don’t you think?” He winched into your mouth, and you swallowed him. Swallowed every ounce of breath, and breathed it back out with a kiss. Sloppy, heavy, your tongue weighing on his because you wanted to keep his lips apart, mouth open to hear his moans.

Peter grunted again once you began stroking his cock, touching him like it was a delicate plate of chin. Fingertips only, dusting him off with little pressure so he wouldn’t shatter.

“What are you going to do about it, hm?” You continued your short, limp strokes. “Just going to take it? Hm?” Your wrist was weak, lazy as it became limp to tease him even more. Peter sucked in a breath, doing his best to maintain his composure, but it was all futile, all those attempts of sucking in his lip to chew, to hold back his moans, because you’d slap his clothed cock, grasp it tight in your hand, and massage as much as you could gather.

“Fuck, baby—“ You had him under your control. Even if his hands were free, you knew he wouldn’t lay a finger on you. He knew that if he did, you’d stop touching him, stop stimulating the blood running down every vein of his cock, fueling his erection. His desires. 

He couldn’t let that happen. Not after the day, the week, the months that he’d been having. 

You and Peter eventually switched places: Peter resting on his back while you sat in between his legs, marveling at the stretch of his suit. Somehow, his cock looked bigger than you’d remember. Squished and pressed flush against his thigh like this. The suit was like a magnet, inviting your hand back to his cock and refusing to let you go.

“Just relax.” You commanded him. He was watching you slouched up against the headboard, gravity weighing his eyelids lower. With his legs spread apart, he provided you excess space as you began massaging his right thigh with your free hand. “Is this okay?”

“Mm-hm...” He knew you were talking about the pressure on his thigh, but the strokes over his cock remained supreme in his mind. Championed through as you pressed harder into the shaft, massaging tenderly from vein to vein. The protruding webbed texture of his suit pressed into him, rolled against cock like the inside of a fleshlight, ultimately adding onto the already gratifying pleasure. 

It was glorious.

“More…” Peter gritted through his teeth, a selfish need for more escaping from his lips in huffs. Grunts, when you’d fulfill his wish with two hands now, kneading his cock like dough. 

Thick, stiff, throbbing dough.

Before the complaints could come pouring in, you shimmied your pants off in a hurry, tossing it in the corner before greedily climbing onto Peter’s lap. It was like he read your mind, perhaps another secret that he’d been hiding, because he immediately took you into his arms. An embrace, a tight one that grounded you against his bulge, pressing your body weight until it restricted the blood flowing into his erection, as well as preventing an escape.

“You’re so hard…” You marveled at how rigid he’d gotten under you, grinding your ass against the large mass, beating and throbbing with every rut.

“I’m so hard.” He confirmed, complained, and bragged all in one smile. He then took you by the nape to kiss you again. Hard on the mouth, slow with his tongue to taste you and your desires, his desires. His other hand rested on the small of your back, guiding your grinds at first before his fingers looped into your waistband, tugging once before stuffing the strap under your ass cheeks. Your hard-on was the only thing keeping the cotton material from slipping off while you continued grating your hips. “Just like that…”

To make it easier for you, Peter repositioned his erection so it was facing north, towards his navel, in its sublime mass. Your briefs had been tossed to the side now, completely bare bottomed against him while you mounted over him, and rode in needy strides. It was a sight to behold, something that Peter reckoned he should savor. He folded his arms behind his head, providing a self-made cushion for the weight of it, and watched you. It was entrancing, like a dance. You swiveled your hips to a ghosting rhythm, one that could only be heard between two hearts, two parties, between the two of you, man to man.

“Like this…?” Breathless, you unbuttoned your shirt open, but left it present on your body. Sweat formed over your neck, dribbled down to your bare and exposed chest;  it was practically an open-invitation for Peter to ravish you. And so he did, with a haunting groan as he held you, contained you in the warmth of his arms as he simultaneously pulled you forward, and pushed himself off the headboard to meet you in the middle.

He kissed you on the neck, achingly hard when he sucked, and then enthralling, sweat-inducing when he bit into your skin. He couldn’t contain himself. You tasted too good, and it’d been too long since he had you just like this. “Just like that. Your cock against my cock, fuck. I love it so fucking much.” He muttered hot against your neck, panting because he was sweating too. The spandex felt tighter on his skin, constricting against him with every drop of sweat.

“Oh, fuck…” His lips had latched onto your nipples now. Peter’s tongue worked magic on your two nubs, flicking and swirling over their perkiness until you felt swollen. Raw, when he bit, pulled, bit, and bit again. You buried your face into his hair, rocking yourself back and forth with your arms holding him close to your chest, gliding your cock against his print as if a gun was pointed to your head, like your life depended on making Peter come.

You were delirious, humping Peter without a single thought other than to get him off, and you’d reckon that was the goal lingering in Peter’s head as he began rocking back into you. It took a while for him to find your rhythm, chasing after it in slower, sluggish beats, but eventually he caught up to you, snapping his hips against your own, grinding his cock against yours like two crescent moons caressing the other’s curvature.

“Close…” He muttered into your shoulder. Your shirt was hanging off, exposing more of your skin, but Peter made sure you didn’t feel a single chill with the marks he had followed up with soon after. It was like he had done it on purpose. Made you feel safe in his arms, comfortable in the warmth of his body, worshiped with the amount of care he had given your body. Frozen, when you felt something prod at your pucker. Then enraptured, when Peter pushed a wet finger inside of you. 

Tremors, chilling tremors ran down your spine as you took the single digit Inside of you with one determined push. “Fuck—“ Your back arched, chest pushed forward towards him, and your hips jolted forward in one strong, and delicious swipe against Peter’s cock. “Peter…”

It was a mouthwatering display of food before him. The perky nubs on your chest, the veins in your neck, the mole on your body, the strain of your thighs on overdrive, the swollen head of your cock; Peter didn’t know what to lay his finger on first, what to mouth on, what to kiss, and suck, and latch onto until you’d scream. Whichever it was, he knew you were desperate for him. Begging, sweating, whimpering, for Peter to lay a finger on you. Another finger inside of you now, and you rolled your eyes at the stretch he was providing you with, a fulfilling wish that startled your hips once more.

“You’re so good, so good for me…” Peter was staring up at you, marveling at the layer of sweat on your body. It glistened with every movement, dripped heavily with every thrust of Peter’s fingers, and tasted just like how he remembered. Salty when he licked up your neck, up your chest, against your nipples, and repeated. Your body was his, and Peter was determined to let the world know. Determined to remind you in case that you’d forgotten.

Your hands were wandering. Grabbing and touching at anything and everything that could linger in between your fingers. Peter’s hair, his head, shoulders, chest, your cock and his, his back. Everything. You couldn’t keep your hands off of him. Even if he was covered from head to toe, you were touching him. Because he was yours.

“Gonna come—“ You cupped Peter’s jaw to straighten his posture, to kiss him sloppily on the mouth, and he pulled his fingers out of you, resting them on either side of your hips as he joined you once again in grinding hips. The pleasure was overbearing, drilling into each individual brain until the smallest movement would render you both speechless. Panting in slurred moans of each other’s names, of profanities that you two had rarely used in your lifetime on earth.

“Me too…” Peter pushed himself on top of you now. Your arms were tied around his neck, tighter than the necktie he had on prior, and your legs; they wrapped around his waist equally secured, if not even tighter, as he thrusted against you. 

You were too distracted, unable to respond to Peter’s constant licks in your mouth. He was desperate for you, suckling on your tongue and chasing after it once it slipped out because of your moans. They were rattling, each breath immediately vaulted in the back of Peter’s throat because he couldn’t part from you. Couldn’t imagine a life where he would. And if he had to, at least he’d have a part of you inside of him. Even if it was a whisper. 

He thrusted harder, panting into your mouth, his nose practically smushed flat against yours. He wondered if you could imagine that life, a life without him.

“P-Pete—Shit, I’m—“ Your fingers dug into his nape, grounding him impossibly closer to you when that feeling had suddenly come to stun you in place. 

It simmered hard in your stomach, then to a rolling boil as it traveled lower to your pelvis. You squeezed your stomach, clenched your toes, and your eyes widened when Peter’s hips showed no signs of faltering. Your cock swelled and your balls jolted, tightened, until you finally saw stars bursting into flames and let gravity have it come crashing down on you. Shivers had you enclose your arms around Peter, holding onto him tight as you felt yourself crumble and spill all over your chest and his suit. You came with a gritted grunt of his name, sinking your nails into his nape because you had nowhere else to channel your spasms as Peter kept rocking against you, drunkenly astonished by how you came for him. By how much you needed him.

It didn’t take long before Peter came right after. He buried his head into your neck, stifling moans into the heat of your neck, clammy with sweat, yet comforting as he filled the inside of his suit with thick, large loads. You felt his cock throb against you when you reached down to help, to ride out his orgasm to the fullest. His cock pulsed as you’d imagine several thick pumps of his load would gush out and uncomfortably layer his navel. If only his suit hadn’t been waterproof, because there was no doubt that he would’ve been leaking out of it by now.

You’ve never been so jealous of spandex.

He was hot in your ear, panting, breathing you in, then breathing you out as you slowed the strokes on his softening cock. Then a sudden inhale, a jolt of his body, when you squeezed hard, to seal the deal in covering the entirety of his cock in his own cum. It was filthy. It was shameless. It was Peter.

“Driving me crazy here…” Peter sluggishly lifted himself off of you to face you, a sleepy smile plastered across his face as you kept kneading at his cock, increasingly sensitive with every second.

“Not enough to drive you away, right?” You smiled, drowsy yourself as you quickly found your high coming to a crash. Though, you mustered enough strength to hold Peter’s cheek in your palm, tenderly caressing, to which he immediately kissed as soon as it reintroduced itself. 

Peter sighed, holding your gaze for what felt like minutes, and yet you wished it could be for longer. 

It was different this time, the way he looked at you. The same amount of love and warmth, yes. But they no longer wavered, no longer tried to find something else to look at in case you were prying about. 

“Never.” 

Instead, they stilled, relaxed the longer you stared into him, into those brown eyes of his, because you were in now. 

You were finally in his life.

How much you needed him?  His question had been answered.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[m0nsterqzzz]

word count: 3k

- Liar Liar - 

Wanda Maximoff x reader

summary - in which, you stumble upon the most beautiful woman you've ever seen while in search of a job you can put your piano skills to use at. The only thing? She's a teacher who thinks you're in search of lessons. All's far in love and music right?

a/n - wanda + music = me fucking dying. lol. haven't updated in a while that's my bad. i love you guuuuyyyyyysss.

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You hadn’t meant to lie.

You’d went into the slightly shady neighborhood in search of a job, preferably one that let you play piano- your passion- and still had a decent amount of pay so you would be able to afford that apartment you got recently.

It’s a small town though, and no one really has any need for music as they own record players and other forms of listening devices. No one cares about classical music anymore.

Maybe you should have listened when your father told you music would never be a good career.

So you gave up hope, walking downtown to the store to get a simple and cheap frozen dinner that you could watch while sulking in front of the tv. Being an adult is hard, and you often find yourself wondering what you would do if you had just been given one chance to go back in time and not rush growing up.

You heard the familiar and peaceful sound of piano, and just like anytime you hear it, you freeze in the middle of the sidewalk to simply listen. There’s a small store next to all the tall and beautiful ones, one that probably gets lost a lot in the sight of all the other, more important buildings. A young woman is sitting inside near the front, visible through the big glass window that you silently watch her through. Her skilled fingers dance across the keyboard, creating an aura in the world that has you stuck in a magical trance.

The song slowly goes quieter, and you watch her take a deep sigh before turning her head to look out the window- as if knowing you were there. You panic, blushing in embarrassment before you pretend to read the signs taped to the door.

A bright smile graces your face as you actually begin to read them. A few of them just talk about upcoming concerts in town square, but one big one smack dab in the middle catches your eye;

Hiring!

Tutors, managers, cleaners

$16.45 a hour

It’s not a lot of money, but it’s enough and you’d get to do what you love while seemingly getting to hang out with a pretty girl. It’s a win, win, win. For you.

“Sorry. That sign is old. My friend was supposed to take it down.” Someone quietly speaks beside you, and you almost jump in fear when you see that the woman you had previously been looking at through the window is now standing right next to you, staring blankly before she tears the sign off the door. She’s even more pretty in person, from her long auburn hair to her piercing greens eyes that most people would fear as she stares at you silently though all you feel is nervous and giddy.

“Right…well….do you still have any openings?” You ask, placing your hands in your pockets as you rock back and forth on your heels. She watches with curious eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

She answers quietly, a stark contrast to your happy mood, though she doesn't exactly seem upset. More like calm. “Yes. Lessons are 10 dollars for an hour and a half.”

You frown in confusion. Does she think you’re looking for a teacher? You go to tell her you’re looking to be a teacher, but your eyes fall on the little picture on the door that has a photo of her next to a few others of other people. Under her’s is the title; “owner and teacher”

“Would you be my teacher?” The words fall out of your mouth before you can stop them, so you purse your lips to stop yourself from saying anything else.

The girl’s lips turn upwards in the beginning of a smile. “Yes. I would.”

You practically grin, and it’s like you don’t even remember the several years of college you went through to get a career in music as you say, “Then I’d like to take lessons from you. I like piano. I want to learn how to play.”

She does smile now, nodding as she opens the door which makes the bell above it ring. “That’s great. Follow me and we’ll get you signed up.” You do follow her inside, taking in the beauty of the hidden shop. There are pianos and other instruments everywhere, ones that look worn out yet still pretty. Open songbook’s litter every open space and she gets to the front desk before digging through a pile of them for the forms you need to sign.

After signing way to many forms and paying a small fee, you shake her hand with the one that isn’t cramping.

“Thank you for choosing Scarlett's Melodies. I’m Wanda Maximoff. I own the shop and tutor most of the students.” You smile, squeezing her hand before you awkwardly place your hand in your pocket and introduce yourself.

Wanda. A pretty name for a pretty girl.

You obviously don’t say that though. Anxiety exists yall.

Instead you leave with a new found pep in your step.

That is until you remember that you just spent a ton of money and don’t even have a job. Wow. What the fuck is Wanda Maximoff doing to you?

— – — – — – — – —

After that, you have to get a job, so you get one at the nice restaurant in town that your friend works at. You spend most of your day serving customers, taking orders, and cleaning, and the only reason you continue to do it is that every other day, you just have to think about the fact that once work is over, you get to go see the beautiful piano teacher.

It’s not hard to play down your skill, but it is a little bit funny every time you slip up and tell her you already know something and then have to make the excuse that you’re doing some studying on your own time as well.

Wanda has a sweet personality, though she is a bit cold and standoffish sometimes. You learn a lot about her over the past few weeks though, like her late brother Pietro, her friends Natasha and Clint who are also workers at the store, and how she came to love music so much as to start up her own store for it.

“You’re late.” She says when you run in six minutes past the time you’re supposed to be there, but her tone is light and teasing as she scans through some notes on her sheet music. She lets you take them home sometimes to study them, but you mostly just study her pretty handwriting and the little doodles she leaves for you to find.

You chuckle, taking off your coat and hanging it up next to her leather jacket near the door. The place is cozy and if not for the workers constantly running in and out, you’d say it feels more like a home than a store.

“Sorry. I was at work.” She nods as you speak, handing you a book she made more notes in before pointing over to a piano set up against a wall. It’s nicely toned and made of a beautiful wood, and once she learned it was probably your favorite, she “teaches” you at that one every single lesson.

You sit on the bench, trying your hardest not to blush when she rubs her hand on your back before sitting closely next to you. It’s one of your favorite parts of the lessons- when she sits close enough that you can smell her perfume. Vanilla with a hint of sage, and it’s quickly become one of your favorite scents.

“We’re gonna work on something a bit harder today alright? I think you can do it, but the notes are in a slightly weird pattern and may be hard to remember.” Wanda says, flipping to a page in the book before setting it up on the music rack. 

It’s one of your favorites and quite easy to play after years of practicing, but you don’t tell her that.

By the end of the almost two hour lesson, you have pretended to learn the first part of the song, purposefully messing it up every once in a while so you don’t expose yourself.

You’re starting to feel a bit guilty about the lying, but then she smiles proudly and showers you in compliments and you forget all about it.

Wanda walks you to the door, leaning on the wall as you put on your coat and grab your stuff. You’re tired, but that feeling doesn’t even begin to compare to the one that comes when she holds your hand and smiles towards you.

“There’s a small event in town this weekend.” She starts, pointing towards the sign up on her big bulletin board. “A few people playing pieces, some nice food. I think you should join. You’re one of my most advanced students.”

You grin, hesitantly nodding. “I’d love to. That sounds like so much fun.”

The redhead nods as well, smiling slightly as she writes your name down on the sign up sheet. You’ll play after a few other students and teachers, and you must tell her what piece you want to play by tomorrow so you can spend the next few lessons practicing it.

With that you say your goodbyes, lingering in a hug with the Maximoff girl before you finally leave, walking home with a love sick smile on your face. Little did you know, the same one is gracing Wanda’s face as she closes up the shop and makes her way home.

— – — – — – — – —

When the day of the concert comes around, you’re nervous.

You don’t know why. You could play this piece in your sleep, but for some reason, the same nerves that were with you during your first performance as a child are now fluttering around in your stomach as you sit on a piano bench in the town square.

Wanda is talking with some of the other students, and you try and distract yourself by looking at her with adoration in your eyes, but it all comes back at a higher level when she notices you and winks your way.

She’s so pretty, and you fight the urge to slam your head on the instrument as she finishes up her conversation and begins walking towards you.

“Hey hon. How you feeling?” Wanda stands behind you, rubbing your shoulders reassuringly as she reads over the notes on your sheet music. You shrug, blushing brightly at her touch as you pretend to be focusing on smoothing out your shirt of non-existent wrinkles.

“I’m okay. Kinda nervous.” You say, and the blush only deepens when she hums in understanding and places a kiss on the top of your head.

“Don’t be. You’re going to be great.” Her words make you grin, and you lean your head back to rest on her stomach as she gently runs her fingers through your hair. Someone calls her name, so she gently caresses your face before patting your back and walking away.

Oh the things that Wanda Maximoff does to you.

While you’re waiting for your turn on stage, you get bored, so you sit back on the bench and begin to quickly play through one of the hardest songs you know. It took forever to learn and you still mess up every once and a while, but it still would sound beautiful to anyone and by the end of it, you do hear someone slightly chuckle in shock.

It isn't a happy laugh or happy shock though. That much you can tell.

“I didn’t teach you that.” A slightly bitter tone speaks, and you slowly turn around to come face to face with Wanda, fists clenched at her sides and a curious but slightly annoyed expression on her face.

You want to continue to lie, to tell her you’ve been working hard and her lessons are paying off, but no one who’s only been playing for a few months would be able to play that and she obviously knows the truth now.

“You wasted my time.” She says coldly, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s no longer the bubbly girl you’ve come to have the pleasure of knowing, instead going back to the closed off woman you first met. It’s all your fault.

You look down in shame, letting the bouquet rest by your side. “I’m so sorry Wanda.”

Wanda scoffs, glaring at you before she storms out of the room. She’s pissed, but a warm feeling settles in her chest at the knowledge you went through all of this to hang out with her, even with the thought that you don’t have a chance with her. You still wasted her time though, and you lied to her for weeks, almost months. How can she trust that you truly aren’t just some psycho?

You stay in the middle of town square, tears forming in your eyes as more and more people gather to listen to the other pianists. You’re falling in love with Wanda Maximoff, and up until this point, it’s only ever been clear and sunny skies. What are you supposed to do now that your first cloud has appeared?

— – — – — – — – —

After that, you stop going to your lessons.

Wanda finds herself missing you every time 6 o’clock comes around and you don’t come sprinting into the shop with your work uniform still on, rambling about something a stupid customer did like you’ve known Wanda forever. It feels like that, that’s for sure.

You spend every day in an endless cycle. Get up, go to work, walk the long way so you don’t risk running into Wanda outside of her music store, work a nine hour shift, and return to your quiet apartment where you sit in silence and mourn for someone that still lives. 

Maybe you should adopt a dog.

One especially rough day, you wake up late, your alarm clock having turned off during a storm last night and reset itself all while you were asleep. Because of this, you wake up with five minutes to get ready and even less time to sprint to work, so you can’t take the long way like you usually do.

It’s lightly sprinkinly outside, so you don’t bother taking a jacket in the midst of chaos. That was clearly the wrong decision, as only a few minutes into your walk there, it starts absolutely pouring, and just like that, your uniform is soaked and you’re shivering. You don’t have any time to go back though, so you fight on, staying right next to the buildings for a bit of protection and you don’t even notice the person carefully watching you as you fastly walk down the sidewalk.

“Hey!” Someone calls out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a familiar building. It’s calm and quiet music is playing somewhere, but all you can focus on is that Wanda is standing in front of you, holding out a dry towel for you to grab.

You hesitate, grabbing it and holding it closely around your body in hopes of stopping the cold feeling in your bones. It’s much warmer in here and the only rain is tapping against the window from outside, but Wanda is here and she looks at you with a type of distaste you’ve never seen before.

“I need to get to work. I’m late.” You mumble eventually after a few minutes of silence, but she just puts her hands on your shoulders and rubs them to bring you more warmth as she replies calmly, “No. I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

You go to argue, but she simply shakes her head and sits down at your piano on the other end of the room. She begins to play a simple but calm song, and she watches in the corner of her eye as you sink down on the couch next to the fireplace and slowly close your eyes. You’re still awake though, that much she can tell by the way your fingers tap along to the pattern of the music.

Finally she slowly stops the song, letting her hands fall to rest on her thighs as she stares at the keyboard with her eyebrows furrowed.

“Why would you lie to me?”

You open your eyes, watching with a guilty but sincere look as she chews on her lower lip and gently presses a few of the keys. “I’m truly sorry Wanda. I figured if we spent that time together, I would be able to learn more about you…in hopes of eventually asking you out. It was stupid, and wrong, and I’m sorry.”

She sighs, closing the keyboard cover and turning to face you. “If you had asked, I would have said yes.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Is she messing with you?

Wanda continues, “If you had just told me all of that when we first met, we could have gone out and gotten dinner or- or lunch or on a picnic like normal people.” You nod along, silently fidgeting with the bottom of your shirt. “So go ahead.”

You’re silent for a second, looking around as if wondering if she’s talking to you to which she giggles and nods. That laugh could fix all your issues.

“Wanda Maximoff, I’d really like to get to know you. The right way this time. Will you go out with me?” You ask nervously after clearing your throat and sitting up in your seat.

Wanda smirks, rubbing her chin as if in deep thought. “I don’t know…”

You laugh a bit when she does, though you’re too busy smiling brightly as she nods. “I’d love to go out with you. No lying to me this time though. And you have to teach me that song you were playing at the recital.”

“No way. A magician never reveals their secrets.” You tease, sitting next to her on the bench as she laces your hands together and says with her own smile, “Oh really? So I just agreed to a date for nothing? You’re mean.”

 All is fair in love and music though.

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