#nat indulges a thought experiment

[bisluthq]

Tay x Leo/Brad if we go with an actor. // tay x you know who is the biggest power couple. Nobody thirsts after leo and brad anymore so it wouldn't have an impact like that.

Fuck me I forgot about You Know Who but you’re right that’d be the ultimate power couple. Their fandoms would murder one another tho. Also idk if he has the prestige to carry a power couple thing. He’s crazy famous but he’s not got like credibility yk he’s just a pretty face.

Leo and Brad are permanent A+++ though like it’d still be a power coupling.

[horseshoegirl]

Set Me Alight - Part 5: I Can't Go On Without You

📜.... I'm sorry... it's getting angsty in here... you guys aren't going to like someone after this...

❗️+18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character (s), Short OFC, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, Verbal fights, bullying, camping, and pranks.

#4.8 k words

Part 4 | Masterlist | Part 6

Remember that tiny feeling of guilt building in the pit of your stomach? For doing something as simple as switching sugar for salt for Jake's coffee? 

Yeah. It got worse. 

Worse, as in it was eating your stomach alive. Worse, as in, your heart was leaping out of your chest. Worse, as in you wondered what the rest of the group thought about you or if they had caught on, such as Nat and Cora had done.

All because that asshole stayed silent the entire time you were leading the group to the waterfall.

It's not as if he didn't try to approach you - He did, or at least tried to. Every time you saw him coming, you'd either take Nat or Cora by the arm to start a conversation. Or you'd engage Bob in a talk about what artifact or item he was currently working on at the museum. The man loved to talk about his work, and you were all too happy to indulge him, regardless of whether it got you out of a confrontation with Seresin.

I guess you could say it was your guilt that wanted to keep you away from him.

But with the lack of heckling or hollering you've come to suspect from him, you honestly thought he'd at least try to keep up that facade. Hassle you over the map or something to do with the compass. Maybe even cause a fight when it came time to switch to a new trail marker.

You did it to him. You could only assume he'd do it to you. Even with his view at the back of the pack, the same spot you had taken to the past two days, he didn't. He only spoke when he was spoken to.

It was making everything that much worse.

As the group rounded the final bend on the trail, all of you could hear the sound of rushing water. Everyone perked up, seemingly finding a new energy and pace, eager now more than ever to finally see one of the sights that made this place so popular.

The moment the falls came into view, a collective gasp swept through the group.

Despite the clouds above, heavy with the promise of rain, the two twin waterfalls were breathtaking, one higher up than the other lower, both situated on their own angles. The water itself shimmered, cascading down the rocky cliffside into the pool below into a thousand shades of blue, and the sound was enough to mute the conversations of the other hikers. The surrounding forest was lush and green, making it a scene of pure, unspoiled wilderness.

You wanted to paint this place. The way the water fell over the rocks and how the two falls shone the light—the green in the trees - even the dirt and mud—the fact you couldn't hurt more than you could fathom.

You flexed your hand, the bandage tightening around your wrist. 

If you couldn't experience why you wanted to be here, you'd at least try to find joy in how happy your friends were to be here instead.

Dropping your bags down against a nearby tree after everyone else did the same, like a silent observer, you hung back on the outskirts of the group, trying to find some semblance of joy as everyone had their moment.

Cora, Grace and Nat laughed as they shed their clothing and jumped into the water. Mickey followed soon after, canon balling close enough to the girls so they might get splashed. Bob was trying to spot the fish and the rocks, hoping to find a mineral or two. Bradley merely stood still, watching Nat with loving eyes, and Rueben and Javy took the chance to sit and stretch their legs.

But Jessica and Veronica, in particular, stood out the most. With their faces full of makeup, seemingly more prepared for a photoshoot than a peaceful day at a waterfall. They spent that entire last break applying layer after layer, pluckering their lips with lip gloss into the screens of their phones. They were posed and preened by the water's edge, a view that had a complementary angle to both falls in the background.

Only you would notice the stark contrast between their carefully curated appearances and the natural beauty that surrounded them.

It's not worth something unless someone can get a photo out of it, right?

As you wandered away from your spot, you caught snippets of a video the two were filming. They spoke loud enough to cover the roar of the water, but it also appeared as if the two were trying to rally the attention of the other hikers and campers - as if, by some miracle, whatever they were doing or clearly saying would gather some attention.

They didn't mention names, not that you heard yet, but with the explicit references to 'someone's antics and attitude' at a campsite, you knew it only had to be you. 

"I mean, it's just so petty, right? But I'm the bigger person, and I wouldn't stoop to that level. Moving on and forgetting is better, right?" Jessica explained to her phone.

You rolled your eyes. They thrived on drama and the need for attention. And no matter what story they chose to share, they could have taken shit, disguised it as pecan pie, and people they had ever met before in person would still eat it and call it great. 

 While it hurt on some level, you didn't value their opinion. Never had or will. It's what made you so carefree in levelling their attacks with remarks of your own. 

The sun would still set, and you would still go on about your life long after this trip, without either of them ever having touched one influence of your life, should you have any real control over the matter.

No matter what, people like Jessica and Veronica would always find something to criticize or mock.

And standing here, in a beautiful park, they were on their phones, too wrapped up in their superficial social media world, informing people on the internet about every facet of their lives to experience what life had to offer.

There's more to life than the two-faced nature that is the internet.

Having felt dumb for even watching them, your gaze finally landed on Jake. He was kneeling, staring down at his own reflection in the water, lost to the rest of the world around him.

Why did he try to approach you? Why did he stay quiet? Why did he defend you against Jessica's words? Could you go as far as to say it was guilt-shadowing his usual cocky confidence?

In your mind, Jake was still the quintessential jock, the privileged rich kid with an air of frat-boy arrogance, someone who found amusement in driving you up the wall. 

He didn't deserve your sympathy, nor did he deserve to feel guilty—if indeed he did—because, in your eyes, he had always been the one taking pleasure in causing pain, not the other way around. If guilt was indeed the cause of his actions, a part of you fiercely rejected the idea that he deserved to feel that way. Despite everything, you couldn't reconcile the boy who had once hurt you with the man reflecting on his reflection, showing hints of vulnerability.

Shoving your hand into your pocket, you let out a hiss when something sharp poked your skin. You pulled the object out, looking down into the palm of your hand to see the stowaway fish hook from Jake's bag.

Grace let out a scream as Mickey splashed some water in her direction and Cora's faces. You lifted your head at the sound. You watched them for a few seconds as your hand closed over the piece of metal. That was until your eyes drifted to rather large clumps of algae floating nearby.

Toying with the hook, a horrible, terrible idea began to take shape.

The urge to draw Jake out of his silence, to elicit some sort of reaction from him, became almost irresistible. You wanted to draw him out. You wanted to break through this silence. It wasn't like Jake to be this quiet, and honestly, it irked you more than his usual antics ever could.

He didn't deserve to feel guilty. Not when he didn't back then. 

You just hoped the asshole was afraid of snakes.

The task was slightly more challenging with your bandaged wrist, but you were determined. You scouted the area carefully and soon found what you needed – a flexible, skinny-looking stick. Making sure nobody was looking, you dipped one end into the water, collecting the green stuff before pulling it out, trying to resist the urge to gag.  After racing over to where you had left your bags, you dug through them to find the other object you had taken from Jake's fishing supplies that morning.  

After making sure the close was clear, and with one hand doing most of the work and the other providing clumsy support, you crafted your gathered materials into a makeshift but realistic-looking snake.

The trick was to make it move believably. You hastily attached one end of the fishing wire to the stick, creating a simple rig that would allow the faux snake to slither when tugged. The other end of the wire, now knotted to the fishing hook, was kept ready to be discreetly hooked onto your unsuspecting victim.

By the time you stood up and returned to your observation point, your prank hidden at your side, Veronica and Jessica had roped Jake into taking a group photo. Nat had been called into the fray, now out of the water and dressed, and then suddenly, she was shouting for you, Cora and Grace to join them.

With a casual smile, you approached the group, keenly aware of Jessica's subtle maneuvering with the camera, likely intending to edge you out of the frame. You didn't mind one bit, purposely settling next to Jake. It made for what you were about to do that much easier.

While pretending to adjust your position for the photo, you discreetly reached out with the wire and hook. It caught on to the edge of his sweater, and you let go, your grin widening as the girls counted down.

 Or, so you thought.

Once the photo had been taken and everyone had been satisfied with the result, Veronica stepped forward.

Then, she screamed.

You could only watch as she bolted forward, the fake snake you had rigged for Jake chasing her with each stride. In her panic, she didn't see the edge of the bank leading to the water, and she tumbled in with a loud, heavy splash.

The group erupted in a mix of shocked gasps and then laughter as Veronica finally emerged, wretched head to toe and makeup running down her face.  Even the rest of the tourists couldn't help but laugh, a few wondering a lot loud what happened. 

You watched, horrified she'd catch on to what you did, but you sighed in relief when Javy helped her from the water. The wire had come loose in the fall, effectively freeing you from the immediate blame that was surely meant to follow.

As everyone tried to convince her there wasn't a snake, you shot Cora a glance. Of course, she was already watching you with suspicious eyes, and of course, she had seen what you did, knowing just who exactly that prank was meant for. You could only give her a sheepish shrug, somehow acknowledging the unintended target of your prank.

But were you sorry for how that turned out?

Nope, absolutely not. Not one bit.

Basking in the relief of not being caught, you are blissfully unaware of Nat and her hardening expression, solely directed at you. Her eyes are narrowing with each breath, and her displeasure is evident to any on-looker brave enough to see.

She stepped forward, ready to call you out on your bullshit promise of not trying to pull anything else, when Jake suddenly looped his arm through hers, pulling her away and over to Rueben. 

It is then Bradley suddenly jumps and grabs you by the arm.

Using Veronica and the commotion as a distraction signals Jake and Rueben, who give him a hidden thumbs up in return. When you ask him what's wrong, Bradley only sushs you and pulls you away to a path nearby.

You let him guide you, following it down and then up a slight hill, one that stops at a mid-over look of both of the falls. It's surrounded by lush greenery and trees, and even on an edge, you couldn't see the rest of the tourists below.

It's perfect for what you suspect Bradley is about to do. After all, you and Nat were the ones who purposely picked this spot for him to take a hint and pop the question. And your thought is only confirmed when he lets go of your arm to reach into his pocket and pull out that tiny blue box.

"I'm going to do it," he blurts out, running his hand through his hair. "Right now. Jake and Reuben are leading her here."

You can't help but feel utter joy, smiling so wide your cheeks start to hurt. "Bradley, she's going to be so happy!"

Bradley, however, looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack. "I just... I need this to go right, Midge. I can't mess this up," he stammered, his hand trembling slightly as he lowered it down to his side. His eyes shot up to the path, and you could hear Nat's voice laughing at something as she unknowingly approached the two of you.

You took his hand into yours, letting it curve over his grip on the box, offering a reassuring squeeze. "Bradley, you've got this. Just remember to breathe, okay? Nat loves you, and this will be perfect because it's coming from you. Nothing else matters. Not the place, not everyone else. Just the two of you."

He forced himself to take a deep breath, closing his eyes and letting his shoulders sag. When he finally seemed to regain his composure, he offered you a nod. "You're right... I just need to keep it together."

Letting go of his hand, you gave him a gentle pat on the back of his shoulder. "Go get her, you big chicken."

He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, motioning for you to hide. You squealed in delight, running to take cover in a thick, overgrown bush. Natasha emerged from the path, Ruben and Jake trailing close behind and you crouched down in the overly dense bush and hidden from plain sight.

Reaching into your pants to grab your phone, you turned it on. You had been saving your remaining battery life for this, both you and Bradley knowing Nat would want pictures to remember the day, hence why he came and got you.

Once it was booted up, you unlocked it, peering over the bush as Bradley greeted Nat with a hesitant smile. Jake and Rueben side their arms out from where they had been looped against hers and sent her on her way. 

She went willingly, a soft and warm smile on her face as she pressed herself deep into Bradley's chest. As much as he tried to calm himself down, and as much as your words had somewhat helped, nothing could have helped him more than a hug from the person he loved the most. You could see the second the stress, the tension, and the worry seemed to evaporate from his body. He fell into her, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

Sliding forward, you held your phone between a gap in the brush. Watching them through the screen, you attempted to use your bad hand to try and zoom in for the right angle, the right depth of the two of them with the waterfalls in the back.

As they shared a soft laugh about something, you felt a surge of affection for the two of them. It was obvious there was no better couple and nobody else in the world better suited for either of them than each other.

All you've ever wanted was to see Nat happy, and in Bradley, she's found that happiness. It's a comforting, reassuring thought that brings a sense of peace to your heart amidst all the utter disaster that was this fucking trip.

"I know it was you who swapped my sugar this morning."

God, Fucking Damnit, Jake!

Titling your head back, there he was in all his fucking glory, standing above you with his hands on his hips like some middle-aged, snarky woman being cut out of line in a grocery store.

You want to scream. Nat and Bradley would merely have to twist back to see him standing there, in plain sight, in the middle of the forest, glaring down at you from behind the bush.

He was either denser than a fucking brick wall or simply decided, in a stroke of questionable judgment, this was the perfect moment to confront you over a petty prank.

"Get the fuck down, you idiot!" you whispered harshly. "They are going to see you!"

Swapping your phone into your injured hand and biting down on your lip as your wrist aches, you find a solid grip on his shirt, yanking him down toward the ground. Jake falls with a severe lack of grace, and you grimace, wondering if Nat or Bradley heard him.

You check through the gap, sighing in relief when you see they are standing with their backs towards the two of you, off admiring the waterfall. But with the relief came the turmoil, and the reality of your current predicament is blatantly obvious.

Jake is kneeling next to you in the dirt, the both of you behind a very small bush, while your best friends are getting engaged just on the other side. He's so close you can feel him breathing down your neck, and his eyes are pinning you down with his stare. Every visible piece of your skin is simply burning from his presence alone.

And the fact you can't leave. Neither can he. Not until Bradley has gotten down on one knee and Nat has answered that famous question with nothing but a joyful, happy yes.

"You've been avoiding me all day."

You could only roll your eyes and snort. "You don't say? I can only wonder why."

As you're unlocking your phone again and placing your phone back inside the bush, Jake leans forward to mummer in your ear. "I know that 'snake' on the fishing wire trick was supposed to be for me, too. You did a shit job of covering up your robbery heist."

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Jake trace his fingers over the palm of his other hand. Had you looked, you would have seen faint, red scratch marks marring his skin. 

You can't help but snicker at the memory of Veronica falling into the water and of her climbing out, looking like a drenched raccoon. "Can't say I'm disappointed it didn't happen to you."

News flash - You're not.

"Good to know I'm not the only one on your hit list."

"You are the list, asshole," you grumble under your breath.

Thinking he'd have some common sense and leave it at that, you lean forward, observing through your screen as Bradley discreetly reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out the box.

It's a stupidly optimistic thought.

"Can you just talk to me for once in your life?"

He never learns when to shut his trap, does he?

"Can you just shut up for two seconds?" you snap, not taking your eyes off your phone. "Bradley's purposing!"

"I'm sorry, Midge, Okay? I'm sorry for the bear trick. It wasn't supposed to go like that. I'm sorry you hurt your wrist. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

You shake your head. "Jake! Shut the fuck up!"

He frowned. "Why won't you let me apologize?!"

"Turn your fucking head and look Jackass." You gesture with your bandaged hand. "This isn't the time!"

He shifts in the dirt, drawing closer to you. "When is the time? Cause you've been running from me since we set out this morning. Actually, the entire trip so far."

"We're hiding in a bush, watching our two best friends get engaged. Of course, it's not the right fucking time!" you rush out in a single whispered breath.

"They are over there and can't hear us... I just need you to hear me out, Midge. I didn't mean for any of this to—"

"Seriously, Jake?" you hiss, finally taking your eyes off your phone as your patience wears thin. "Now is not the time."

But Jake is too caught up in his own need to clear the air to stop. And his voice grows louder despite the need for the utmost discretion.

"I just want to fix this, Midge! I hate that we're like this. I've always hated this! This thing we have going on, and I have no idea why!"

You couldn't help it when your voice suddenly boomed out, "You don't know why? Really? Let's start with that fucking mouth of yours!"

"Seriously?! You two couldn't can it for one fucking minute for this?!"

You slammed your eyes shut, wincing hard.

Fuck.

Nat's voice cut sharply through the air, her words laced with anger. "Get the fucking hell out here, the two of you! Now!"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

Reluctantly, Jake and you unfolded from your crouched positions. Your movements were hesitant as you both stepped out from the relative safety of the bush to face the weight of Nat's furious gaze.

Standing tall and with her shoulders squared, Nat was the epitome of fury. Her eyes could have melted steel, and each breath she took was measured, controlled, and laced with the increasing difficulty of maintaining her composure. She had yet to speak another word, but you knew.

She was barely holding it together, holding off the inevitable bomb that had been building up since she pulled you aside this morning.

But the worst thing you could have seen in this very moment? Bradley, still frozen mid-kneel, the expression on his face equal parts a mix of shock and heartbreak. And in his hand, grasped between two fingers, is Nat's ring - the one you helped to pick out.

You half expected him to shoot you a hateful glare, but he was only staring at Jake, coming to a stand and placing Nat's ring safely back within its box.

"What's so fucking wrong with the two of you?!"

You drew in a sharp, shaky breath. Nat continued to yell, first setting her wrath onto Jake as he let out an awkward cough.

"Jake, don't think you're innocent in all this!" she snapped. "Always egging her on, playing these stupid games. It's like you're both in some twisted competition to see who can be the most infuriating."

Her eyes bore into him, Jake obviously scared of her. She took a step forward and pointed to the ground. Bradley swung his arm out in front of her in fear she was on the verge of violence.

You were grateful. Nat would be capable of murder at this point.

"You could've been the bigger person, walked away, but no, you just had to keep it going. It's like you enjoy this drama. Well, congratulations, it's ruined a moment that was supposed to be about Bradley and me, not your petty feud!"

Jake ducked his head like a child getting scolded by a parent, his Adam's apple bobbing with his harsh swallow.

"And you!" she spun, now pointing her finger at you. You reeled back, scared at her snarl and the sheer rage she was projecting onto you, something you've never been on the receiving end of since you met her.

"I don't know what stick he's metaphorically shoved up your ass, Midge," she mocks your nickname in a deliberate tone, "but you need to get the fuck over it. How long has it been?!"

Your heart snaps. You are pretty sure it's been shattered, too.

"It's like one day you just woke up and decided he wasn't worthy of your attention! That he was too good for you!" Nat spins in frustration, running her fingers through the roots of her hair before she's back to unleashing her wrath onto you.

"Do you know we can't have proper get-togethers without the two of you causing some sort of scene?" she shrieks. "Here we were thinking that maybe, just maybe, forcing the two of you together for once in your life would get you to be fucking nice to him? Maybe they can communicate and figure their shit out. Maybe she won't run away every single time she fucking sees him."

"Nat..." Bradley tries to reason, turning to face her and trying to place his hand on her hip. She slaps his hand away, too far gone to care.

You know what, I was wrong! I was fucking wrong!” She threw her hands up in the air, letting them slap hard against her thighs as she let them fall. “You just can get your head out of your ass to realize this isn’t about you and your feelings and some selfish vendetta. It’s downright selfish, Midge!”

This is the reason why you've never told Nat - told any of them. Because what Jake said that faithful night is smacking you back in the face. Not that they didn't ever ask about it - they did - but because nobody would truly understand it.

They'd tell you it wasn't true. To not judge him for something he said in his youth. To grow up. To get over it. To give him a second chance or deep down, he secretly had a crush on you - as fucking if.

Or worse... Someone would confirm it.

Nat is confirming it. And for the four years you've been fighting against Jake, against the words he uttered to that girl in the bathroom of your college apartment, they meant nothing in this very moment.

The idea, Jake, was right after all struck like a blow to your chest, the weight, the force, sucking all the air from your lungs and replacing it with a heavy, undeniable truth.

"Having the both of you on this trip was a mistake," she mumbled angrily under her breath, shaking her head. With a swift, frustrated turn, she stormed off, each step pounding hard on the dirt trail.

You could no longer fight it. Tears overwhelmed the corners of your eyes, and you let them fall after years of running, finally allowing Jake the privilege of seeing the damage he caused and the death glare he damn well deserved.

"None of this," you seethed, pointing to Nat's retreating form, "would have happened had you not shut up the first time I told you to, Seresin."

Jake was visibly stunned, the shock in his eyes clear. "You can't honestly believe I wanted this to happen?!"

"You'd be pleased anyway it went regardless," You seeth. It's nothing but pure venom spilling from your lips, and Jake even finds himself taking a step back at the pure anger you're aiming toward him, only matched by Nat's previous rage.

You retreated towards a nearby tree, wiping the tears from your eyes as you laid your forehead against the bark, taking long, deep breaths. With sad eyes, Jake watched you go until there was shuffling in the dirt, and he spun, intercepting Bradley with an outstretched arm.

"Bradley... I didn't..."

"Just save it, man," Bradley replied dejectedly, slapping his arm out of the way as he dodged past. "There's nothing you could say that would make this better than what it already is."

He took off after Nat, his hand tightly clasped around the tiny blue box, and Jake couldn't do anything but grow roots into the ground, wondering how things went so incredibly wrong so incredibly fast.

Bradley had been coaching him on how to approach you. He thought last night, before those two showed up, there had been some progress. But now, standing amidst the aftermath of a failed proposal, Jake felt more lost than ever.

He knew he shouldn't have approached you while Bradley was down on one knee. The guilt he felt, even knowing how nervous he was about fucking it up, was incomparable. But you... you rebuffed him. Every single time he tried to approach you, you played the same damn game, and he felt like he was left without any other choice.

He just wanted to apologize to you before things got worse. Worse than you falling and hurting yourself because he couldn't man up and ask Jessica and Veronica to leave him alone.

There you were, crouching behind that bush, and he had the overwhelming urge to ask. And to say sorry that you had been hurt when he never intended for that in the first place. He just wanted to know why. Why did you so desperately hate him? Why, with every word, do you find fault with everything he did or would do?

But when Jake turned around to ask, you were already long gone, and he was left with nothing but the remnants of a failed proposal, Natasha's disappointment in the two of you, and the lasting impact of your anger.

Long may he rejoice in his ever-lasting ability to fuck things up further, especially when it came to you.  

So... who do we hate? Let me know 😅 (Not the writer, please not the writer)

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Part 6 - Running up that hill - In progress

[lingeringscars]

Yj chars in t100 a self-indulgent post bc I am probably the only one who cares but I had thoughts I need to get down bc it's scratching my brain and I need to focus on hw:

Already touched on mari who I still think has gotta stay in sanctum bc she'd be so big into the primes

But if mari is not in sanctum, probably alpha station and after coming to the ground and facing near death, finds comfort in earthborn traditions and practices

Van and nat are both factory

Shauna is farm station

What we know about their backstories largely remains the same

Nat hangs around farm station a lot. Would be friends with monty and jasper.

Nat is one of the 100

I don't think...idk I'll probably workshop this but I think nat + her dad's altercation is probably less violent? As in I don't think it'd be the shotgun but him falling and hitting his head that kills him

She's still good with a gun and quickly becomes one of the hunters. I don't think she really wants to be a gunner.

Van is not one of the 100 and while it's important to me that Mel is the sole survivor of factory station when Bellamy finn Murphy sterling and Monroe arrive, i think it parallels the plane well to say everyone presumed van died with the rest but Surprise Bitch

In other words, van is found near the factory station crash alive and it's a big shock to everyone

Shauna ends up with farm station and while people are being picked off and taken, she steps up to learn how to use a knife on earth and help with food preparations and later with fighting against azgeda

Shauna was the best in earth skills class but no one knew it

Van nearly dies in an animal attack and later is supposed to die in praimfaya because not on the list but does not

By the time sanctum arrives, van is like yeah Bill Cadogan I am with you because seeking a reason for why they keep surviving when people around them aren't and there have been no shortages of near death experiences. There needs to be a Reason for this

[crownleys]

OTP 19, 43, 33, 37 for Kira/Nat, please 🥰 (~agentnatesewell)

19. How do they feel about PDA?

Kira can be a little funny about PDA. She has a tolerance level, in a sense -- she doesn't mind holding hands or a little snuggling or a chaste kiss. Anything hot and heavy she VASTLY prefers to keep to private. She very much doesn't like being teased about it either. Obviously Nat has her... proclivities, ahaha, which Kira WILL indulge her in. If they ever got caught, though, it'd never ever happen again! She'd be mortified.

43. Who would give their life for the other without a second thought?

Oh gosh, this one is HARD. I think Kira would for sure -- there's a bit in Book 2 that relates to that that felt very in character for Kira. I'll have to see if I can find it... But I think the longer they're together the harder that would be too. Eventually the idea of Nat being without her becomes very hard, even though she'd still want to do everything she can to protect Nat.

33. Who's the better cook?

I feel like on pure dint of experience, Nat. Kira's a good cook, but she doesn't know some of the fancier recipes like risotto and the like the same way Nat does. Her food tastes are pretty basic when she's cooking for herself.

37. Which is more likely to swear?

Kira!

[wri0thesley]

nat i don’t know if this makes sense but i’m having thoughts of dottore creating like a mechanical corset that he can control how snug it is on your body throughout the day to watch you practically spill out or struggle to breath properly or using it while he “experiments” on you to record how your heartbeat rises when it tightens agsnfjbeh

anon . . . ohohohoh . . . it's nothing, really; a mere trifle. he's played the guise of a fontaine inventor, he's certainly a sumeru scholar - and so the little thought required to actually create the brief vision he has is barely worth breaking a sweat over. the corset is perfectly lovely to look at - never let it be said he doesn't appreciate the finer things in life, too - but it's also very much functional for what he wants. a little press, a brush here, and suddenly the mechanisms are tightening. that's actually how he sells you on it being safe to wear; 'aren't you tired of having to wait for someone else to lace you up, dearest? you can do it all alone with this--!'

of course, dottore's promises very rarely turn out to be a hundred percent of the story, and you realise that after putting it on in a morning and dottore coming to find you late on, an indulgent smile on his face as he pats you very firmly upon the side and kisses your cheek - and abruptly, you feel the laces pull themselves tighter. the breath squeezed out of you. dottore lets out a soft, shuddering gasp at the sight of your surprise - at the little noise you let out. how darling. how adorable.

another few firm touches on certain parts of his contraption have you light-headed, tight-laced and unprepared for it. when dottore leads you into his bed chambers that night and murmurs; "perhaps we should leave it on--", you are left in no doubt that this is exactly what your lover intended.

[hua-fei-hua]

Hi Huaaaaaaa I'm in your askbox :3

10, 19, 23, 45 for the Fanfiction Questions, I simply must know

hiii naviiiiii we are hanging out on my blog :33

totally forgot i rb'd those things hehe but anyway~

10.  Is there a fandom you read fic from but don’t write in?

at first glance, my thought was no, bc i don't really fandom-ize every bit of media i absorb, just a few special ones (i can be normal about things!! for real (not clickbait)!!!)

that said, there are a few fandoms i've read fic for that i've never written for! going all the way back to my roots, i read so much mlp fic, n although i technically wanted to write mlp fic back in the day (n have like. two paragraphs of an ancient pitch rotting in my gdocs), i never really committed to it.

nat made me read some pokespe fics too back in the day, so i've read a couple of those too despite never really reading a ton of the manga. one pokespe author also recommended some kingdom hearts fic that i ended up reading, despite having never played kh or knowing anything about it really!

i also used to read a lot of miraculous ladybug fic (once in a blue moon i'll also get update emails for some of them c':), n although i had some ideas for mlb fic, i never wrote any of them.

i think the most recent fandoms i've read but never written for have been the adventure zone (balance), since i'd read taz fic as it crossed my dash after i listened to the podcast, and princess tutu, bc i had a mutual who got into it, so i started w/their fic after i watched the anime, then poked around the archive a bit hehe

19. Is there a ship which you wished you could get behind, but you just don’t feel them?

hmmm i'm honestly kind of a "once a hater, always a hater" kind of person, so it's kind of hard for me to think of a ship that i see around, know the basic appeal of, but don't really Understand in a way that makes me more proactive or picky w/seeing them portrayed.

that said, i would love to read some kokosara meta that elaborates on how a relationship btwn them would further kokomi's character, why sara is the only character who would be able to push her in that particular direction

23. Name a fic you’ve written that you’re especially fond of & explain why you like it.

oooo that's tough, since i'm very fond of p much all my fics for various different reasons, even if i don't think their writing is particularly up to my standards anymore.

like, even tho jjk was technically a while ago for me now, i'm still obsessed w/the idea of a constellation au (zenith); and the diner at the end of the night is still easily one of the most well-written high-energy comedies i've ever pulled off.

it's also really hard to pick out of my genshin fics which one holds the most specialest place in my heart bc most of them hold niches in my heart!!!

typically, though, i pick disjunct bc during the writing process, it was the first time where i really felt allowed to give a character Mixed Race Struggles(tm) wholesale w/o feeling like i was just making them mixed for the sake of it. i'm also really happy with the way it ended up resonating w/people on a core level, and the experience of artist-viewer connection n just having an Art Moment(tm) that resulted!!

45. What is your all time favourite fanfic?

i used to say A Miscellaneous Tale of Night and Day, which is The 200k word pokespe fic nat made me read when we were in high school that hasn't updated since 2012 that has effectively inoculated me against "abandoned fanfiction sadness", and the plot n premise are still a ton of fun, but i've been rereading it a bit as of late, and you can feel the early 2010s casual transphobia and misogyny in it lol. i'd say that it helped shape my comedic tastes/ability to just write self-indulgently, so for that, i'd categorize it under "influential fics"

honestly my favorite fics tend to be long multichapters, but there are honestly so few that line up with my tastes and have an ending in genshin, n i didn't read enough in jjk to have any longfics to really be fondly subscribed to. thinking about it, i genuinely think my fave fics are just the ones nat n i make up together over discord until five in the morning LMAO

in terms of fics that exist(ed, at least at one point), i'd say the now-deleted snk fic tower of babel would probably qualify as one of my all-time faves, n i can say that's not just the nostalgia glasses bc i do still have a copy on my hard drive lol. the premise is that five girls, each hiding their own secrets from each other or the world, end up renting one apartment together, n they learn to trust each other enough to communicate n rely on one another. there's also a bit of romance happening in the bg, but it's not the biggest aspect of the fic, n i really liked that!!! also the way it dropped the title in the end, basically stating its main theme as "it's a lot easier to fix your problems if you communicate abt it" CHANGED MY LIFE the first time i read it lol

ANYWAY YEAH that's all of them hehe thanks for the ask~

fanfiction questions

[ruvimbothinking]

Walking back feeling, I am so thankful. I've already won the lottery. Honestly, I am here walking to the shops to get milk digestives and hand soap.

Thinking to myself, how wonderful it is for me to be in this position. To be able to have the money in my pocket to have the choice. To make the choice in my mind and be able to experience it in the physical. I was watching Flat Share and had had a Zimbabwean chocolate digestive which I had placed in the fridge because when I do eat chocolate it must be frozen or at least very chilled.

I was indulging in one thinking ohh my goodness there aren't many left and Zimbabwe is not down the road so what is my next option. I then took myself upstairs to continue watching Flat Share a show I had started watching earlier on this week. hmm... or was it last week. Anyways. I couldn't get them out of my mind and when the episode I was watching finished, I got dressed and started walking to the nearest supermarket After chatting with the enthusiastic children that had visited their grandmother. I continued on my path.

I chose a playlist which featured poetic heartfelt songs. With the first song on the list being Nat King Cole-Pretend'. A song I was introduced to by Bob Proctor during one of his life affirming seminars. I was overcome by the emotion of appreciation. Deep gratitude whilst listening to my playlist. ''Nat King Cole-Pretend''. ''Ella Fitzgerald ft Louis Armstrong Cheek to Cheek''. ''Frank Sinatra- My way''.

I began to think. We get so consumed I thought with wanting to make more money to assert our position on this planet. To have that gadget and that outfit and hit those numbers. Date this person and that person etc.... However, after taking in a deep breath. I remembered that you know what there's so much more to my existence, so much more to our existence 'Louis Armstrong's what a beautiful world' was playing as though it was serenading my being connected with self or rather truth thoughts.

There's so much more, that we miss and do not prioritise. Listen to the birds, the cars, just to be alive is a gift. A gift so overlooked because consumerism and capitalism has become our God. What we strive for can so easily be replaced and yet time. Time is something we can never replace or replicate.

What happened to our child like wonder, our curious desire to discover, learn and investigate. ?

When was the last time you looked up, paused and looked at the sky for a minute.? When was the last time you looked at the details of the lines that run across both your hands. How and why where they formed, which one of your ancestors in your gene pool played their part in this ? Have you ever wondered about the life force that flows through you and what happens to it when you're faced with a lifeless corpse whether it be a human, insect or plant. ?

Hmmmmmmmmm, I wonder with gratitude of course. I've won the lottery and now I know. I am grateful for where I am, with the wisdom I have learned

These are my thoughts

[thedaveandkimmershow]

Our Christmas Eve day ends up being a highly focused Christmas preparation event. So I leave the house around 9, maybe later, whilst Kimmer embarks on baking and cooking.

Not just baking and cooking for tomorrow, though. She makes samples as she goes. Samples we get to eat on the fly across the day.

Nine-thirty I'm at the Alderwood 16 buying tickets for Wonka, the movie we're gonna see as a family tomorrow, Christmas Day, at 12:30.

Ten o'clock it's Trader Joe's. Ten-thirty it's the Neighborhood Walmart. Back home by 11:30. I tag out. Kimmer tags in. And now she's out 'n about shopping.

Me, I'm in the house wrapping presents for family friends who're coming over Christmas night, I'm doing a bit of house cleaning with guests in mind, and I'm hanging the final string of outdoor lights (the non-blinky kind) from the front door to the end of the west side of the house.

I think I prolly did the lights first 'cause Kimmer didn't want me up a ladder without her being there as well.

Not sure why. 🤨🤔

So I get the lights done, Kimmer goes out, Kimmer gets back, she tags out and I tag in to go out and get the cat food both of us forgot to buy our first time out. After that, I'm on the hunt for a single pint of whole milk Linzy wants for the Land 'o Lakes hot chocolate mix she brought. She actually shows up at our place right as I'm about to leave to get the cat food... then she goes into the house to help Kimmer by decorating the tree with her choice of ornaments and ribbon stashed in three big crates of Christmas ornaments we collected through the years from Kimmer's original collection she brought into our marriage, to ones we bought together, to a separate collection we got from a friend of ours, to ones Kimmer made when we lived at the apartment.

There's a lot of opportunities, a lot of ways to go decorating our tree from scratch, is my point.

By the time I'm back, that tree is good and done.

And gorgeous.

It really is a helluva thing Linzy did.

Her own little Christmas miracle, as far as I'm concerned. ☺️☺️☺️

So now it's passed five and we're all back in the house together. Linzy decides it's time for a coupla pre-Christmas gifts. In this case, gift bags filled with specialty mugs and Land 'o Lakes hot chocolate. Mint for me. Trader Joe's chocolate butter cups for Kimmer, which, I now realize isn't so much hot chocolate as it is straight-up chocolate.

I definitely indulge before Linzy leaves for the day. And I thank her profusely becsuse Land 'o Lakes is a family Christmas classic.

Our favorite flavor?

Raspberry.

Reminds us of Kimmer's dad.

After that, Kimmer continues her holiday baking and cooking as Linzy 'n I work on the garlands and, in some cases, the lights that go with the garlands. By the time we're done, the inside of our home looks a lovely kind of festive.

And it's Christmas in our home again.

At some point in there, probably between seven and eight, Linzy slips away for a Christmas party as Kimmer continues baking and cooking and I continue wrapping presents. By this point, I'm wrapping the presents I scored for Kimmer.

I also take a moment to write a few thoughts in the Christmas card I'm giving her Christmas morning.

By nine-thirty we're ready to go and out the door to St. Mark's in Seattle where we experience the fanfare of Christmas, the candlelight of Christmas, the carols of Christmas, and a message that hits home at Christmas.

These midnight services never wrap at midnight, of course, and this one's no different. By the time we're rolling out of the parking lot, listening to the smooth tones of Nat King Cole gently singing "O Little Town of Bethlehem", it's just passed 12:30 Christmas morning, which puts us back at the house around 1AM.

Christmas morning.

By the time we're in bed together courting sugar plums...

215AM.

Christmas morning.

Back in the day, back when I was a kid, that technicality of "Christmas" morning would have me all kinds of excited. As an adult, after a full day of transforming and preparing our home for Christmas...

Finally slipping into bed seems the proper reward for a job well done.

Merry Christmas!

☺️☺️☺️

[maximoffwitch]

We’ll Be Okay

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

warnings: ANGST, brief mentions of child birth

summary: You welcome a new addition to your family, but something is missing

word count: 1.7k

a/n: this idea just came to me and idk why bc it hurts :’( & italics are flashbacks!

Beads of sweat decorated your skin, causing loose strands of hair to cling to your forehead. Labor had been long and exhausting. Those pregnancy books you’d read weren’t kidding when they said it’d be one of the most painful experiences of your life. You really should’ve listened instead of brushing it off because you were an Avenger.

“Are you ready to meet your little girl?” the nurse sent you a warm smile, as she handed you your swaddled baby.

As you took her from the nurse, you fought back the tears already spilling over.

“Hi, baby girl,” you cooed, already completely smitten with your daughter. Tenderly, you caressed her cheek with your knuckle, causing her eyes to flutter open.

“She looks just like you,” the nurse commented, and you choked back a laugh, shaking your head.

Sure, you could see some of your own features reflected back, but in reality, your daughter was practically your wife’s twin.

It had been months since Ultron and the conversation that you’d had with your wife at the Barton’s wouldn’t leave your mind.

You knew Natasha would make a wonderful mother, having seen her interact with Clint’s kids every time you visited the farm, and your heart broke for her when she told you about the Red Room’s graduation ceremony. Your heart broke even more when Natasha thought that you wouldn’t want to be with her any more, that you would think less of her.

The two of you were peacefully laying in bed, her reading her book and you watching a random nature documentary. Though your eyes were on the screen, your thoughts were elsewhere.

“Do you ever wish for kids?” you murmured quietly.

Natasha’s eyes widened, slowly setting her book down on her lap. Feeling her tense, you lifted your head from her lap to gauge her reaction.

“Nat?” you softly pulled the redhead from her train of thought.

“Why would you even ask me that?” Natasha shook her head, her voice cracking as she looked down to hide the forming tears. “You know I can’t.”

Smiling sadly, you hooked your finger under her chin, lifting her gaze to you. “That doesn’t mean you can’t want it.”

“I don’t know, (Y/N),” she huffed exasperatedly. “I never let myself think about it because it’s never been an option.”

You patiently waited, knowing she wouldn’t leave your question unanswered. Chewing her lip, Natasha sunk back into her pillow.

“I love kids,” she whispered under her breath as if she was finally admitting it to herself, allowing herself to finally indulge in a desire that had always been so forbidden to her. “I wanted kids.”

You gently took Natasha’s hand in yours, intertwining your fingers. “Do you still want kids?”

Nat turned her head towards you, her green eyes swirling with emotion. Unable to use her voice, she simply nodded, before nestling her head into the crook of your neck.

As Natasha’s tears stained your skin, you ran your hand through her short red locks, murmuring sweet nothings.

“I’m sorry,” she said, as she sat up.

“For what, love?” you frowned at the guilt-ridden woman.

“For not being able to give you a family.”

Shaking your head, you cupped Natasha’s cheeks, locking your eyes with hers.

“Natasha,” you swiped your thumb to catch a stray tear, “you have already given me a family. You are my family, okay? You and the team are all the family I need.”

“I love you,” she smiled slightly before kissing you passionately.

“I love you, too,” you mumbled against her lips.

A moment of silence hung over the two of you, before Natasha spoke again.

“Do you want kids?”

“I’ve thought about it,” you hummed, trying to act nonchalant.

Your wife raised her eyebrow with a smirk, as she could read you like a book. “Really?” she decided to appease you. “What have you thought about?”

“I dunno,” you fidgeted with Natasha’s fingers. “It’d be nice to have a mini Natasha running around.”

At that mental image, she let out snort of amusement, causing a small giggle to escape your lips.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Natasha shook her head, her eyes shining, the tears replaced by joy. “Please, continue.”

“Nat,” you whined, pulling a teasing laugh from your wife. “I don’t know. I just imagine our little daughter with her fiery red hair running around, causing havoc, just like her mom.”

“Hey!” Natasha protested.

“What?” you tilted your head, feigning innocence.

She rolled her eyes light-heartedly, and you kissed her shoulder before curling into her side once again.

“Maybe one day,” you sighed hopefully.

“Maybe,” Natasha mumbled into your hair, as she pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

A knock on the hospital door pulled you out of your trance.

“Hey,” Clint poked his head through, Laura not far behind him with the rest of the team following.

You gave your family a tired smile, nodding for them to come in.

Looking back down at your baby girl, you asked rhetorically, “Do you want to meet your godparents?”

“Godparents?” You heard Sam pipe up, earning a chorus of chuckles from the group.

“Sorry, birdbrain,” you winked at him, as he playfully deflated.

“Um,” you cleared you throat, nerves suddenly flooding your mind, “Clint, Wanda.”

The two Avengers sobered, stepping forward to the side of your bed.

“Meet your goddaughter,” you held her out for Clint to take in his arms.

As the archer gently rocked back and forth, Wanda peeped over his shoulder to admire the newborn.

“What’s her name?”

Knowing your wife was watching you, you looked up at her, your eyes watering again.

You were at the beginning of your second trimester and your bump was becoming more and more obvious. Though you and Natasha had discussed having a kid years and years ago, given your avenging lifestyle, the two of you didn’t seriously consider it until after the blip.

It took Natasha much convincing and led to heartbreaking screaming matches between you, seeing as she was dealing with her own survivor’s guilt. But now, nearly two years later, with the help of Tony and Bruce, you were able to conceive a child that was biologically both yours and Natasha’s.

“How are my two girls doing?” Nat plopped down next to you, propping her legs on the coffee table as she reclined into the sofa.

“Good,” you hummed, subconsciously rubbing your stomach.

“She kicking anymore?” she asked, as she moved her hand on top of yours. You swore your daughter would come out of the womb punching and kicking, given how much she was moving last night, keeping you from sleeping.

“Not right now,” you answered. “But she’s definitely gonna be a fighter, I’ll give her that.”

“That’s my girl,” Natasha leaned down to kiss your protruding stomach.

You watched your wife with awe, as she talked nonsense to the baby. These were moments you lived for, ones you cherished. After everything you’d been through, after everything you’d lost, you were grateful Natasha was still with you, still by your side.

“Have you thought of any names?” Natasha pulled you out of your thoughts, pressing one more kiss to your stomach before sitting upright.

“A few,” you nodded.

“Care to share with the class,” she teased with a smirk, causing you to roll your eyes.

“I like Isabella, Sofya, Maria, and,” you paused before revealing your last idea, unsure of how your wife might react.

“And?” Natasha raised her eyebrow expectantly.

“Lena,” you murmured.

Your wife inhaled sharply at the name. Though Natasha and Yelena had reunited and patched up old wounds, the younger widow hadn’t reached out since the blip, leading Nat to believe the worst.

“I like that,” Natasha whispered, giving you a sad smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded before adding, “Though, I want her to have your last name.”

Tilting your head, you furrowed your brows. “Why?”

“I dunno,” Natasha shrugged. “I don’t want the name Romanoff to live on, I guess.”

As you observed your wife, you could see there was more to it than that, knowing Natasha still felt as if she had red on her ledger. Not wanting to push her, you nodded.

“Alright, fine,” you conceded before playfully suggesting, “What about a hyphen?”

“(Y/N),” she warned, her tone hinting at no malice.

“Okay, okay,” you held your hands up in defeat.

As you leaned against Natasha’s side, she pressed a kiss to the top of your head, moving her hand over your belly.

“Lena (Y/L/N),” she sighed reverently. “I like the sound of that.”

“Natalia,” you answered, causing the room to hold their breath. Clint’s eyes were shining with tears and Wanda met your eyes with understanding. “Natalia Antonia (Y/L/N).”

Everybody shared a small smile at the name honoring their two fallen comrades, Pepper letting out a small gasp.

“That’s a beautiful name, (Y/N/N),” Wanda was the first to speak and you nodded in appreciation.

Clint looked at you with a look you couldn’t quite decipher. Though you were initially angry with the archer, you knew he was hurting just as much as you were.

He looked down at baby Natalia, tears falling freely down his cheeks.

“Hi, Natalia,” Clint croaked quietly. “I’m your Uncle Clint.”

Unlike the nurse, he saw what you had seen: Natasha’s face, her green-blue orbs, staring back at you.

Sobs began to overtake Clint’s body, so Wanda took Natalia from his arms into hers. Laura moved to comfort her husband, escorting out him of the room, not before squeezing your hand and giving you a comforting smile.

As your daughter was passed around the room, meeting her family, Yelena came to sit on next to you on the bed, wrapping her arms around her shoulder.

The two of you watched the scene before you, both your hearts yearning for the same thing, the same person.

“This is what she sacrificed herself for,” you said to Yelena, trying to convince her and yourself. “For me, for you, for Natalia, for this family.”

“I know,” Yelena nodded, looking down at you with a pained smile.

“Now go meet your niece,” you nudged her off the bed, nearly causing her to fall on the floor.

“Suka,” she cursed after regaining her balance, earning a laugh from you.

You watched as Yelena took your daughter into her arms, your heart swelling and aching at the same time. Feeling the joy radiating from everyone at the sight of their new family member, you smiled contently.

“It’s okay, Nat,” you murmured under your breath. As your eyes began to droop, you dropped your head onto the pillow and looked up at the ceiling. “We’re gonna be okay.”

--

taglist: @when-wolves-howl​ @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

[bisluthq]

We'll never know if Joe would date a famous actress, but the fact is that in real life he has enough BDE to be Mr Swift and even though she's not an actress, dating her affects his career more than it would if he were dating an actress.

Oh for sure lol but boys are stupid and the dick measuring they do versus the BDE they show are often wholly illogical. Like yeah we won’t know lmao and yes we know his career took a massive knock and he did that headfirst fearless and I do think knew the risks and had been informed he was being reckless BUT I’m not convinced like he’d have asked out Emma Stone or JLaw at their famous. (Superbad Emma or doing promo for Winter’s Bone Jen 100000% they are both his type lol why lie).

[rebeccccccaaa]

𝔻𝕒𝕚𝕤𝕚𝕖𝕤

___________________

ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Bucky gets hit with that god awful (but really hot) sex pollen. (this was requested)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: Dub-Con/Non-Con as per usual with sex pollens fics (although i try to write them as consensual as possible :T) Smut obvi (18+ minors dni), slight daddy kink, age gap?, public male masturbation; it's brief but still

TW: very brief mention of possible suicide

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇs: hot

____________________

“Where are those daisies we collected from the last mission?” Tony asked you, eyes staying glued to the hologram in front of him.

“I left them on the quinjet. Fury said to wait for transportation until Shield confirms safety. It’s literally in a glass case, but whatever,” you rolled your eyes, making the older man laugh.

“Just protocol, kid,” he snickered.

Meanwhile Bucky sat with Steve eating lunch, chatting it up like old men do.

“So what did you bring back from the last mission? I saw a bunch of agents in hazmat suits,” Steve said sipping his coffee.

“Uh, well Thor said we should bring some plants back for research, but it seems like a bunch of normal lookin’ daisies,” Bucky shrugged.

“Y/n loves daisies,” Steve smirked.

“Ok?”

“And you love Y/n,” Steve teased.

“No I don’t-”

“Hey boys!” you skipped past the kitchen.

“Y/n,” Bucky said standing up with a big goofy smile on his face.

“Where ‘ya going?” Steve asked with a chuckle.

“Quinjet. Fury gave us the go to start doing tests on that plant you brought the other day,” you smiled lightly jogging to the runway.

“Why don't you ask her on a date, Buck,” Steve nudged.

“Come on, she’s way too smart to go out with a dumbass like me,” Bucky joked.

“Seriously.”

“I don’t know. It’s been years since I’ve talked to another woman. It doesn’t come naturally anymore. Wha- what’s even the first I’d say to her?”

“I don’t know, man. I’m on the same boat with you. Just… Tell how nice she looks today when she comes back.”

“Really?” Bucky asked skeptically.

“Yeah, be nice to her.”

“I am nice to her.”

“I mean be extra nice. Flatter her,” Steve told him, “Go wait in the lab until she comes back and tell her she looks pretty today.”

“Isn’t Tony in the lab?” Bucky asked.

“Ha ha, yeah,” Steve teased, patting his back before leaving to his room.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Tony mumbled seeing Bucky waltzing in the room awkwardly.

“Nothing,” he mumbled back.

Tony dropped his hands and stared at Bucky with an unimpressed look on his face. Everyone but you knew about Barnes’ little boy crush on you but he’s never had the balls to say anything. You were close to Tony and seeing as though he doesn’t particularly like Bucky, he didn’t want you hanging around him. But you were an adult so of course you hung out with whoever you wanted.

He was sure you liked him back too which never ceased to make him roll his eyes.

You walked back from the quinjet with the glass container of daisies. You weren’t exactly a plant expert but it was apparent that these daisies were mutated seeing as though the pollen swirled around the flowers gracefully. It was beautiful but then again they might be extremely dangerous considering it was a Hydra experiment.

“Hey Y/n, off to the lab again?” Steve smiled.

“Yup, gotta check these babies out according to Thor; said they might be dangerous if they’re what he thinks they are,” you said, still walking.

“And what’s that?” you just shrugged at his question unsure of the answer yourself.

“Well, Bucky’s waiting for you in the lab,” he slipped in the conversation.

“Really? Why’s-” Crash!

“Oh no,” Tony mumbled, seeing the collision in action.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” you stuttered.

“No, no. I should be sorry. Here let me help,” bucky knelt to the ground grabbed the fallen daisies with his bare hands.

“No! Don’t touch-” Tony shouted practically sprinting towards you two.

The golden pollen swirled in a misty manner engulfing Bucky completely. You stared with furrowed brows confused at the sight before you and what was going on. Bucky’s skin began to burn and his senses were being overloaded. All he could smell in that moment was you; the same scent that he got a whiff of this morning when he hugged you, the perfume and the shampoo that filled his senses when you walked passed him.

Tony pushed you out of the lab roughly throwing you in Steve’s arms who was just as confused.

“FRIDAY,” Tony called out.

“Yes, Mr. Stark,” the familiar voice answered.

“Lock all the doors to the lab and maybe turn on the a/c,” he commanded.

“Of course, Mr. Stark.”

All the glass walls and doors instantly shut and locked, locking Bucky inside. Bucky’s eyes found your and slammed his body against the glass desperately trying to reach you. You too ran up to the glass wall trying to understand what had happened to him. Everything was happening so suddenly.

Your forehead was pressed against the glass as was Bucky’s; both of you staring into each other’s eyes momentarily. In that moment, you could see his eyes turn golden for a quick second before his pupils dilated ridiculously before your eyes.

“Is he going to be ok?” you turned away.

“Y/n! Please!” Bucky’s muffled screams shocked you.

“Uh… where’s Thor?” Tony panicked.

“What the hell is happening?” Nat asked; Sam, Wanda, and Vision trailing behind closely.

“Nat,” you ran to her.

“What happened to Bucky?” Same asked.

“He- I ran- I ran into him by a-accident and the box dropped. There was mist everywhere and Bucky's eyes. His eyes,” you stammered breathlessly.

“Please! I need her!” Bucky hit the glass in an attempt to break it.

“Oh my goodness,” Wanda gasped at the sweaty Bucky hitting and practically going feral.

“Oh god, is he gonna be ok?” you teared up. This is your fault, dammit.

“I can asure he will experience no physical harm,” Thor’s voice made all of you turn around.

“Just physically? What the hell does that mean?” Sam argued.

“Well, uh… I’ve never actually seen it’s effects in person. Especially not on a Midguardian…” his voice trailed off and his eyes grew big.

Nat snapped her head, eyes widening as well. Bucky with absolutely no shame held his hard dick in his hands pumping it with his eyes trained on you. You went to turn around seeing nat’s expression but she covered you eyes before you could actually see the lewd behavior Bucky indulged in.

“What’s happening?” you asked holding onto Nat as she led across the room.

“Nothing, they’re gonna take care of Buck. Don’t worry about it,” she said quickly.

You sat in your room bouncing your leg as the movie on your TV played. Every now and then Bucky would moan and cry particularly loud making all of you wince and cringe. But your mind felt foggy simply thinking about Bucky and his safety; especially that moment when his eyes went from confusion to you don’t even know what. Hunger? Desire? Lust?

Whatever it was, it made your tummy flutter.

“Steve, any news on Bucky?” Steve stood at the doorway with a worrisome face that did nothing to ease your already panicked nerves.

“Well, as far as Thor knows the plant that was mutated with the daisies was pollen extracted from a breeding plant common among other galaxies; for species that can’t… reproduce like we do. The pollen enters the system and targets the nociceptors causing excruciating pain without physical harm. If untreated the victim can reach a traumatic state and truthfully, they will do anything to stop the pain; even kill themselves.”

“What the hell does any of that mean?” Sam grunted.

“It means the tin man is painfully horny,” Tony interrupted.

“Are you fucking serious?” Sam said in disbelief.

“What’s the cure?” Nat said.

“Oxytocin, of course,” Tony said.

“The cuddle hormone,” you whispered.

“Yup. Banner and I are already working on a serum containing artificial oxytocin in hopes to minimize the pain or even better cure him completely. We-”

“I’m afraid it’s going to be a bit more complicated than that,” Thor interrupted Tony.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, see the pollen, it’s a little tricky. The oxyputin-thingy you mentioned…”

“Oxytocin,” Tony clarified but Thor didn’t care too much.

“I don't think artificial love is going to cure the boy. If you want results, he needs to be the one he desires most. That’s where you’ll get your oxy-pudding.”

“Oxy- You know what, we can figure this out without anyone needing to have sex,” Tony groaned.

“Tony, maybe we shouldn’t-” you started.

“Nope, we can do this. We’re science bros,” Tony stormed away like a child.

“Isn’t your lab being ‘occupied’,” Nat called out.

“Shit!”

-

Hours went by and the oxytocin experiments were clearly a fail. The first dose did nothing. The second also nothing. The third relieved him for only ten seconds before he went back to his painful state. Since then, they haven’t been able to help or relieve Bucky’s circumstance any longer.

You thought about Thor’s words, about how the one he desires most could cure him. A ping of jealousy struck your heart but you knew you to find the woman Bucky loved and just pray that she'd help him. You made your way back to the lad area where Tony and Bruce had their new makeshift set up while the lab was locked down.

“Tony, this is ridiculous. It’s been going on for too long. You heard what Thor said about what happens when it gets too much,” you begged.

“And what do you suggest we do?” Tony said angrily.

“We need to find the woman that Bucky loves so she can help him,” you argued back.

“It's not just some woman, Y/n! He wants you.”

“What?”

“All the bastard’s been doing for the past eight hours has been masterbating while moaning your name. I’m not putting you in that situation,” Tony yelled.

You couldn’t speak. Was he telling you the truth? Did Bucky want you like that? The same way you secretly wanted him? It’s not like you haven't thought about what being with Bucky would be like before. He was perfect; so handsome and charming.

You ran back to your room where the rest of the guys still were practically out of breath; your heart hammering out of your chest and your stomach fluttering like it does whenever you think about Bucky.

“I need to get to Bucky,” you panted out.

“What?”

“Please you guys need to help me. Tony said that Bucky wants me; I mean can you believe. A guy like him wanting me? I’m just… nobody. He’s way too out of my league and-”

“Y/n, focus,” Nat said.

“Right. I- I want to help him. I know I can.”

“Y/n, we don’t know how dangerous this is. I mean, it came from Hydra, this could be weaponized and you could get hurt,” Steve argued.

“Bucky could never hurt me,” you whispered; Nat looked at you softly, understanding the situation better realizing you were probably Bucky’s only chance of a cure.

“You’re not actually considering letting her do this are you?” Steve scolded Nat.

"Are Tony and Bruce making any progress?" she sighed.

"They haven't been to even relieve his pain for longer than ten seconds," you whispered.

"Steve, this is Bucky we're talking about. Hasn't he endure enough torture in his life?" Nat said softly.

That seemed to convince him. Seeing Bucky in so much pain like he had been only years ago was unfair, especially when they technically already knew a cure. Waiting this out was pure evil at this point.

"How do you suppose we go about this?" he asked.

You devised a plan in order to let Bucky from the lab; he'd find his way to you on his own. Wanda stood from afar using her powers to tamper with the equipment. Tony frustratingly would have to run across the compound to the conference rooms to grab new devices in order to continue with his notes and tests.

On his way back, Steve and his convincing and charming ways would stall Tony's return asking him all sorts of questions about Bucky's state. Meanwhile, Thor made up some excuse to lure Banner away just for a minute so Nat and Sam could override the lockdown through Friday and free Bucky.

All the while you sat in your room waiting anxiously for Bucky to barge through the door and have his way with you.

A few minutes went by and no sign of a ruckus you'd assume would accompany the escape plan. You fiddled with the hem of your skirt biting your lip in anticipation. Still no sign after a couple more minutes. Wanting to make sure you still looked alright for Buck, although he'd probably not even acknowledge your appearance, you stood up to walk to your bathroom.

Just as you stood up, Bucky in all his muscle and broad glory slammed the door behind him staring at you with nothing but desperate hunger. Your stomach flipped when you saw him lock the door, pushing a small chair you had just next to it in front of the door under the handle.

He stalked towards practically panting and you took in his appearance. His hair was quite disheveled and sweat lined his forehead and slightly down his neck. Despite that, he still looked so handsome and sexy.

"маленький, all dressed up for me to ruin," he growled crawling up the bed as you crawled back.

"Buck, are you ok? I want to help you," you whispered.

"I'm more than ok now, beautiful," he whispered leaning into you, his nose brushing against yours, chuckling when you visibly trembled.

"Is my красивый маленький ангел gonna let me use her?" he whispered, huskily.

"Bucky, I don't understand what you're saying."

"так драгоценно," he whispered against your lips before pressing himself completely against you.

His hands, contrast between hot and cold, crept under your shirt brushing lightly over your delicate skin. You had somewhat expected Bucky to have no control and use you relentlessly, of which you wouldn't have minded, but this soft ginger foreplay was really making your panties wet.

Bucky slowly lifted the shirt from your body before tossing it to the side and removing his own. His hands cupped your breasts squeezing the soft flesh quite roughly making you sigh and moan at the feeling.

His lips attached themselves to your neck biting and sucking harshly littering your skin with dark purple marks. He nibbled on your ear as he grinding his pelvis against yours, his large erection poking your center making you even more aroused.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you. It smelled just like you," he whispered.

"T- The daisies?"

"I've been craving you, aching for you. Thinking about how good you're gonna feel wrapped around my cock," he panted speeding up his grinding thrusts.

"Buck," you breathed out.

Bucky shuddered over you before stilling for a moment. He couldn't help it, your scent, your warm skin pressed against his, he couldn't hold back anymore coming straight away in his pants.

You brushed his hair softly soothing him from his high. You thought it was over, that he felt better and was finally cured but almost instantly you felt Bucky harden under you, poking between your thighs and you gasped knowing very well it was going to be a long night.

Bucky stood on his knees and pulled your bottoms down your legs nearly ripping the material. He too rid his bottoms throwing them god knows where before climbing back on top of you. You stared adorably up at him and Bucky almost came again. He smiled softly at you before kissing you once more.

Suddenly, loud bangs on your door startled you but not Bucky.

"What the hell are you doing!" Tony screamed.

"Tony, you gotta stop! This is the only way! It's not fair to him to let him keep suffering. He's done enough of that, ok?" Nat shouted.

"She's gonna get hurt," Tony sighed.

"No she won't. This was her idea."

Tony looked back teary eyed. He really cared for you as his own and putting you in a situation like this wasn't fair to you either. He really tried to help but this was just too complicated and too advanced to solve in only a few hours. They were right, Bucky needed you as much as he didn't like that idea too much.

"Fine."

Bucky lined his cock with your entrance wrapping your legs around his waist. Slowly he pushed in pulling moans from you both. You've only had a couple lovers previous to Bucky but neither of them ever filled you so perfectly. Bucky stretched you out like none other and admittedly he wanted to use his fingers on you first but he'd been away for too long it was too painful to go another second without being inside you.

"So tight and warm, little one. Feel so fucking good wrapped around me."

"Buck," you moaned.

You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him impossibly closer to you as you kissed along his neck and jaw. Bucky moaned breathlessly in your ear and you couldn't help the clenching around him from arousal.

"Fuck, keep doing that, little one," he groaned.

Toy squeezed your thighs together and clenched around him again making him groan louder this time. His thrusts became sporadic and you moved against like a ragdoll unable to keep up with his relentless pace.

Your legs began to shake and your back arched into his chest reaching you first high of the night, gushing all over his cock. You realize he hasn't come and gently push him off you before flipping over to let him take you again from behind.

As expected, Bucky pushed into once again deeper this time and you shuddered under his hand that rested atop your arched back. Bucky smacked and kneaded your ass thrusting in and out. The lewd squelching sound of his thrust mixed with the sound of skin slapping against each other echoed in the room.

"Shit, little one. Taking my cock so fucking well," he reached forward and bunch up your hair pulling your head back harshly.

“Shit,” you mumbled.

Your knuckles turned white as you gripped the sheets as hard as you could. You were approaching your orgasm quickly and you weren't going to be able to hold back any longer. Your pussy clenched around Bucky's cock making him throw his head back in pleasure.

"Please, Bucky," you whimpered.

"You wanna come, darling. You wanna cream all over daddy's cock?"

"Yes! Fuck!" your arms shook before giving out completely; your head buried in the sheets as Bucky continued that same wild and rough pace.

"Please let me come, daddy!"

Your body felt on fire. No one has ever made you feel this good before, it was almost too much, too overwhelming. Tears brimmed your eyes from trying to desperately hold back. You wanted to come with Bucky but seeing as his pace had yet to slow down you were beginning to think he wasn't even close.

"Let go, doll."

Your body squirmed beneath him as you released all over his dick. You came with a near shout, your body violently trembling from the intensity of your high. Bucky slowed his pace for your comfort, gently riding your orgasm slowly down despite his still aching erection.

He languidly rolled you over to your back, his hands softly rubbing your sides up to your breasts. You breathed heavily, eyes feeling droopy, all you could feel in that moment was his cum dripping from you onto the sheets.

Bucky, still knelt on the bed and still chasing his release, lifted your legs over his thighs gripping your hip with one hand and his cock with the other. You squeezed your thighs together when you felt his tip poking at your entrance once again, soft whimpers emitting from you shakily.

"Such a good girl. Gonna let me take you again? Gonna let me keep using you?" he moaned.

"Use me, Buck. I'm all yours," you breathed out.

Bucky pushed himself past your folds once again, your cum easily letting him slide in. Both his hands made home on your hips gripping hardly surely to leave marks for you to remember this very moment. You looked at Bucky as his thrusts slowly began to pick up, bringing your own hands to your breasts to play with your nipples. You twisted the perked buds, moaning softly at the feeling as well as Bucky filling you perfectly once again.

"Filling me up so good, baby," you moaned, arching your back slightly allowing Bucky to hit a newer and deeper angle inside you.

"Pussy was fucking made for me," he growled.

His hand moved from its home on your hip right over your lower belly where he could feel his cock so deep poking his own hand through your tummy.

"Feel how fucking deep I am?"

You moved your hand and he pressed yours in the same spot under his and you moaned loudly, shuddering under him.

His pace quickened and for a moment he thought he was going to finally reach his high, that release he'd been thinking about for hours today, but when he felt you clench again, squeezing his cock tightly and he didn't cum, he knew it was gonna be chase that he didn't know you'd be up for. You gushed all over his dick, back arching and your legs pressing tight around his torso, coming with a loud scream of his name.

Bucky fell forward with tears in his eyes. His skin still felt hot and sticky. His sense felt dialed up to an eleven. It was all so overwhelming and all he wanted was to cum in you and hold you closer whispering how he really loved you. He pressed faint kisses to you equally sticky and warm skin and when you felt warm liquid dripping onto your skin to lift Bucky's head to find him crying.

"What's wrong, baby?"

“I can’t cum. I just wanna cum,” he whined.

“Hey, hey. It’s ok. I can go as many times as you need me to. I want to help you, let me do that.”

“Can- Can you uh… use your mouth please? I want to feel those pretty lips wrapped around my cock so bad,” he moaned.

“Of course, baby. I’d do anything for you,” you smirked before pushing him and crawling over him holding his dick in your hand.

-

Hours and literally hours had passed until Bucky was finally tired out only having cum three times compared to the fifteen-plus times you had. Your bed laid on the ground; the wooden stands snapped about two hours ago. Most of your sheets were torn to shreds and marks littered your body from your neck down to your hips and your knees from, well you know.

Your body shook as you laid in a fetal position. You burned between your thighs; the soreness overwhelming but pleasant at the same time. Sweat made what was left of the sheets stick to your body until Bucky pulled them from you to clean you. He used a warm towel all over your body with tears in his eyes whispering how sorry he was about everything.

“I swear I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I’m so sorry. I understand if you hate me now; if you never want to see me again. Just know that I’m so sorry about your bed, the blankets, if I hurt you, everything,” he sniffled, eyes and nose red and puffy.

“Bucky,” you whispered, your voice raspy and croaky from your moaning and screaming all night.

“Y/n,” he whispered back. You pulled him by the back of his neck into a soft yet passionate kiss.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he breathed out when you pulled away. You cupped his face with shaky hands but a smile on your face.

“Do you mean it?”

“Of course. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. I’ve dreamt about holding you far too many times, more than I’d like to admit. I should’ve told you sooner but like everyone else, I was scared you didn’t like me back; at least not this way,” he rubbed your legs indicating the intimate love he had for you.

“Buck, it’s virtually impossible for anyone not to fall in love with you. Unless they’re Tony,” you giggled as did he.

“Can you say it?” he asked softly.

“That I love you?” you smiled brushing your nose against his; Bucky practically purred as he nodded.

“I love you, James,” you whispered.

“Fuck, I love you too.”

He laid you down softly again on the broken bed pressing light kisses all over your collarbones and shoulders. You brushed his hair with your fingers as he clung onto you ready to sleep.

“Thank you again, doll. For helping me today,” he said after a couple minutes of silence.

“Of course, my love. Besides I’m the one who ran into you with those damn daisies.”

“Thank god for them then. And for your clumsiness,” Bucky chuckled.

“Meanie,” you snorted, making Bucky laugh even more.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Buck.”

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@stolenxkissess

[egoludes]

satisfaction guaranteed.

summary: your super soldiers hear there’s a new contender in the bedroom; they intend to learn all about it.

pairing: stucky x reader.

notes: ok, i’ll admit it - this is so outrageously self-indulgent and fully inspired by a recent, um, purchase. i was hoping to get it out in time for valentine’s day, but then work kicked my ass - so consider it a delayed love letter to y’all heh. my apologies in advance to the manufacturers of the sex toy featured here; please don’t sue me? borders from deathlyrph!

warnings: nsfw / 18+, threesome, sex toy, implied & light overstimulation

He doesn’t mean to listen in - scout’s honor.

There just isn’t much that Bucky’s super soldier hearing misses and the raving of some very giddy --- and very drunk --- Avengers is nowhere near that list. He’s actually pleased to hear the way you, Natasha, and Wanda are carrying on when he rounds the corner. Missions have been taking a toll lately, keeping everyone on the team on edge and up late. You, in particular, have been distant, putting on a facade that never quite reaches your eyes, and he and Steve have been on wit’s end trying to perk you up.

The ladies, it seems, have it all figured out.  You’re laughing freely for the first time in weeks, and Bucky’s grateful that no one (particularly Sam) can see the way the sound makes him utterly lovesick. His adoration keeps him still a few seconds longer, basking in how free you seem, but he doesn’t intend to stay much past that. In fact, he’s a half-step into leaving when he hears it:

“So, wait -- have you tried it yet? The Satisfyer?” 

Confusion brings him to a full stop. Satisfyer? 

That feeling only grows, knitting his eyebrows, when you’re the one to answer with an emphatic, and damn near dreamy “Yes.”

Bucky’s an intelligent man and the name alone is a pretty effective context clue. Still, he doesn’t really put it together until Wanda squeals and Nat (who he can see in his mind’s eye, clear as day, leaning into you with that cheeky smirk) pushes you for more.

“It’s kind of...overwhelming,” you continue, pausing to refill your glass, “but in the best way. Like in a ‘How did I ever masturbate before this’ kind of way. My knees literally buckled when I got up after. Can you believe that? Buckled! I was fuckin’ woozy! ” He can tell you’re animated just by the way your volume starts to rise and whatever you’re doing must be endearing because even Natasha is chuckling.

Bucky still loves it, don’t get him wrong. In fact, he adores you excited like this, especially after all the darkness lately. But, there’s something genuinely puzzling about so much excitement around a sex toy. He hadn’t even known you’d bought something new. When had you tried it? Where were he and Steve?

His thoughts start to swirl, intrigue and curiosity mounting in a wave that he pushes past with a step, then another, as he reminds himself that he has somewhere to be.

No chance he’ll be forgetting about this, though. 

Steve hears about it from Bucky. 

Secondhand stories can be tricky; full of exaggerations and misunderstanding. But, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t believe it. He just doesn’t comprehend the implications of it until he experiences it for himself. 

That happens on a Saturday afternoon. 

You’d been tense in training, taking hits you’ve dodged a thousand times and fumbling moves you’ve done twice that. A bad bout typically doesn’t do you in, but Steve can tell by the way your attacks grow more and more stilted, that you’re overextending just to make blows meet. 

It gets so bad that he breaks one of his few cardinal rules -- never pulling rank with you or Bucky outside of missions -- to get you out of the spar, and your frustration with it is as clear as the exhaustion that sags your limbs. You’re out the door before he can apologize, or explain.

An hour later, he’s showered and changed, seeking you out in your corner of the compound with peace offerings at the ready. This time, they come in the form of your favorite snack and a promise to spar with you himself the next time you’re scheduled - no holds barred. 

But, when you pull open the door at his knock, he’s surprised to see that he may not need them.

You’re completely...sated. The tension you’d had in your shoulders when you left the gym is nowhere to be found and in its place is a sheen of satisfaction. It’s all over you: in a dopey smile, lidded eyes, and the faint whiff of your cunt he gets when he leans into you.

In an instant, he puts two and two together, and Steve feels his body warm at the realization that you’ve just finished touching yourself. And not just that: it had been so good that your entire mood’s flipped and you’re beaming at him, no walls or reservations.

He makes his apology all the same, though, and your smile widens as you reach for him and the snack in a tease: “Better not back out on that fight, Captain.”

He grins back, pleased you’re feeling better, but making a mental note to speak to Bucky as soon as you let him go.

I think we need to check out this ‘Satisfyer’.

They ask you about it on Valentine’s Day.

You’re running on the high of a beautiful evening: dinner in DUMBO and drinks in Brooklyn Heights. The latter -- a couple cocktails for you, white wine for your boys -- finds you buzzing as you let them into your room back at the compound. You feel eyes on your hips from behind, heavy gazes that sear the curves, and you sway pointedly, smiling at the sharp breaths that follow. 

You know where the night is going ---- know the way a good date makes them handsy. So the attention is no surprise. Neither is the cool press of metal to your back and the kiss to that spot under your ear. “Bed, pretty girl,” Bucky drawls against your skin, intent pressing -- and growing -- against your hip as he settles against you.

Steve rounds you from the other side, not touching but so close you can feel the rise of heat from his body. You look up just in time to catch him watching you back, blue eyes darkening with each step into your bedroom.

Your dress is easy work, pooling at your ankles with a few good pulls, But, Steve and Bucky take their time with everything else. You’re in something special, after all --- pretty lace and dewey colors that deserve an extra look, an extra touch. They’re on you the moment it’s revealed to them, thumbing the fabric with murmured praise through the lips all over your skin. 

The daze it sets follows you all the way to the mattress where you lay back against Steve’s chest (still clothed, to your chagrin) with his arms settled around you. His hands end up bracing your thighs, naturally at first, then deliberately as Bucky starts to kiss trails up and over your calf. With the latest string of missions, you can’t remember the last time you had their mouths on you and the anticipation as Bucky’s creeps closer is almost crippling. Your body tenses with each point of contact, eyes lidding as they watch him rise, inch by tortuous inch. 

“Sweetheart.” Steve’s voice pulls you out of your focus with a rumble you can feel in your back. “We wanna try something new with you tonight.” You turn just enough to watch him, answering with a hum to urge him on. “Can you tell Buck,” he continues, dipping to run his nose along yours. You feel tiny when he bears down on you like this, and he can see the way it affects you just in the flutter of your lashes. “--where you keep your ‘Satisfyer’?”

What?

In a split second, you’re sobered up, no hint of the lust or buzz that’d been following you for most of the night. Bringing toys to bed isn’t new by any means, but they have never, ever referred to one by name like that. Nor requested it specifically. It’s so startling that you don’t know what to say for a moment, mind utterly blank until you feel Bucky’s hand tighten around your thigh to bring you back.  “You -- my what?”

“Satisfyer,” Steve echoes, hand resting on your tummy. From below, you can feel Bucky’s eyes burning into the side of your face, expectant. “Buck’s heard you mention it before, and we’d like to know what all the fuss is about. ---- If you’re willing, that is.”

You look back and forth between them, mouth gaping for a second before you swallow your shock down whole. Two super soldiers can be a lot to manage on their own -- adding a toy that’s knocked you on your ass a few times over now seems like a very dangerous game. But, you can feel Steve hardening against your back and can’t deny the slick that’s seeping through your panties at the thought alone. So you nod, lip pulled between your teeth, and direct Bucky to the left side of your bottom drawer. 

When he’s back between your legs, it’s with the rose gold toy in hand. The mere sight of it makes you clench; something he doesn’t miss when he’s that close to your core. “Someone’s excited,” Bucky muses, brow arching before his gaze returns to his hand. The Satisfyer is unlike any toy he’s ever seen, shaped more like some alien gadget than a vibrator, and no amount of Google sleuthing could’ve prepared him for what it feels like in person. The smoothness of it in his hand, the unique curves along his palm. You bite back a giggle at how intently he inspects it, turning it over this way and that to get used to its weight.

“Hmm.. that’s definitely different,” Steve chimes in, as focused on the toy as Bucky is. It isn’t hard to work out how it’s used from the design alone, but what they’re still itching to know is what it does. How it unravels you so well, until your knees buckle even. And it doesn’t take long for that anticipation to trump their curiosity and you’re brought back to the moment when Steve ducks his head to your shoulder, pressing kisses to the skin there as he smooths hands down your inner thighs. He draws his palms back and forth a few times until they suddenly still, and he’s holding your legs -- and you -- wide open. “How about we give it a go, pal?” 

Bucky says nothing in return, but he probably doesn’t have to. The toy clicking to life is enough, a rhythm that fills the room with anticipation. Your tummy tightens at the sound -- another reaction neither man misses -- and the tension stays put, coiled tight until the Satisfyer closes over your clit.

The first pulse knocks air out of you that you hadn’t realized you were holding. The ones that follow unfurl you, melting your anticipation in favor of a soft, thrumming pleasure that coats you head to toe. It’s odd, having someone else use it on you, but in a good way. The best way. 

You surrender to it, relaxing into Steve’s hold as Bucky holds you open with two fingers.  So far, that’s no different than normal --- you’re always this pliant for them, putty beneath their fingers once they get to work. But, tonight, they’re greedy. Tonight, they want more from you; want whatever this toy has been able to draw out in their absence.

Bucky kicks things up a notch, turning the pulse up two speeds. The change is subtle to them, clicks coming just a smidgen faster and louder. For you, it seems to make all the difference. Immediately, you react, back arching up from its place against Steve’s chest with a sound that makes the Captain purr behind you.

“Mm...must feel good,” he notes, a hand gliding along your tummy until he can palm your breast. “Can you tell us, sweetheart?” He punctuates the question with fingers around your nipple, tweaking lightly.

Your lips part, but no words follow; not at first. It’s like your body and mind are disconnected, static in the places where they usually go together. The fuzziness is welcome, but hard to speak through, and it’s all you can do just to whine when Steve gives your nipple an urgent pinch. Bucky joins in with a cool finger pressing at your cunt, the light whirring from his arm giving you something concrete enough to focus on. ‘S good,” you finally pant, twisting to tuck your head into Steve, “so good.”

Bucky huffs out a chuckle and your entire body goes tight; with his face so close, you can feel every breath. “That mean you’re gonna let us finish you up, just like this?”

It’s a rhetorical question --- has to be, the way he presses the toy tighter to your clit. Still, you answer with an eager nod, legs widening some as if to give him the go ahead. “Please, Buck, ‘m close already, it -- right there, I-I’ll--” Your pleas are pretty, a desperate melody, and they appease every base instinct Bucky has. He’d wanted to keep you on edge a little longer to explore the toy more, but he’s a sucker for his girl; always has been. You win him over without even trying. 

Steve isn’t far behind, cock leaking in his dress pants seeing you so desperate. He hasn’t gotten his hand on the toy yet, but even he seems to feel its effect. The hand that isn’t cupping your breast spreads over your tummy, delighting in the way the flesh underneath tightens and spreads. You’re certainly close --- he knows your body as well as you do. And the thought of it makes him hungry, makes him press teeth into the skin behind your ear as he urges you on: “Go on, honey -- make a mess for us.”

Your peak comes fast after that, punching you in the gut with its intensity. The first wave of orgasm runs right through you, leaving a tremble in its wake, and your hips twist instinctively to escape the toy. Bucky, however, isn’t so forgiving, metal curling around your hip in a vice. Ride it out, he seems to say with a dark, lidded glance from between your legs. 

You whimper in response, head tipping back against Steve’s chest as you fumble for purchase in the warmth of Bucky’s free hand. 

Something tells you this will be a long night. 

Forty minutes later, you can’t see straight.

Your first orgasm had been gradual, as tentative as the men watching this new toy work you. But, after that, it’s like a flip switches in Bucky and Steve, making them greedy for as many more as they can get.

The second one isn’t long after the first. Bucky turns the Satisfyer up to the highest setting, the other end of the spectrum that you hadn’t even gotten a chance to try on your own yet. The first contact lights fire through your sensitive body and you’re on the brink in just minutes.  Toes stretching and curling into the sheets by Bucky’s hips, you’re practically squirming with need and it only takes one good twist of the toy for you to crumble all over again. They give you a break after that, but most of it is spent kissing you too long for you to catch your breath.

You don’t mind that too much, though.

The third orgasm is Steve’s fault. Ever the strategist, he starts thinking through the ways they can play with frequency and angle to make you cum again. You don’t notice it in your foggy comedown, but he’s fished his phone out and flicked through to a page he’s looked over more times that he cares to admit. And when Bucky settles between your legs to get you going again, he finally speaks up. “Buck, I found this review online---” Both you and Bucky turn to him, curiosity in the way you gape, but he’s making a face back that’s loud and clear:  ‘do not ask’. “---that said they were able to cum in a couple minutes with this alone. Had some interestin’ suggestions about how, too.” He grins around a Brooklyn drawl, that handsome face stirring something in you when it looks so devious. “You think we can get our girl finished faster than that?”

They pull it off -- embarrassingly easily at that -- and it’s in the pale of that third climax that they finally, finally press inside you. 

Your cunt is soaked, supple and warm around Steve as he sits you down over his cock. After so much play, the stretch is nothing, a pleasant burn in the pit of your belly that makes your eyes flutter closed. 

“Tell us how you feel,” Steve asks for the second time that night, his voice strained around the effort to keep from fucking you. Even if you’re taking him well -- easier than ever before, in fact -- he’s cautious not to lose his head, no matter how much he wants to. 

No matter how much the urge to plow you into your mattress dizzies him.

Your eyes are still closed when you respond, tongue over your dry lips as you part them with a needy sound. “S-Still good…,” you sigh, mind swimming. You want to move, start to move in a mindless search for some friction. But, the rocking doesn’t last long, stuttering to a stop when you hear the toy click to life  and try to focus through the haze of your pleasure with eyes darting for answers.

You find them in the smug grin on Bucky’s face as he palms the Satisfyer in one hand and works his cock out of his pants with the other. “What,” he purrs, voice lilted in a taunt, “you didn’t think we were done with this yet, did you?”

Oh yeah --- this’ll definitely be a long night.

[beyondspaceandstars]

Late Night Confessional

Relationship: Natasha Romanoff x Reader Warnings: N/A Summary: (slight) Neighbors!AU - After you come back from yet another bad date, some fluffy romantic confessionals occur between you and your neighbor. (Based off the prompt: Person A: “What would you say if I told you I was in love with you?” Person B: “That you have terrible tastes.”) A/N: Surprise, happy pride month - I write wlw, too, because I am, in fact, consider myself to be sapphic (or wlw or however you’d condier it ) :) p.s. this is an older piece of writing but i still enjoy it and wanna write more of this nature

Masterlist

"Shit," you muttered as your heel got caught in a crack in the sidewalk. Furiously, you pried off the obnoxious heels and decided trucking back home barefoot was the best option. If that was what was going to get rid of any other annoyances tonight, then so be it. You were absolutely over it.

Everything had started out fine — which was what got you — but shit turned south once he opened his mouth. He was a date you had met on one of those dating apps. You couldn’t remember which one since they’ve all just started blending together from the obsessive swiping and small talk.

With him, though, it didn’t seem so bad at first. You two texted for a few weeks and seemed to really vibe with one another. Even when you first sat down at the bar, you thought for a second this could work well.  

Then he started to get handsy — drunk and handsy. In your experience, it was never a good combination and you kicked yourself for not seeing how it was going to go once he started throwing back drinks. It happened very quickly and right there in the bar. It made you want to pull your hair out.

You felt you had been so blind. What man strung a girl on for almost a month just to be hunting down a quick lay? This man — and he might as well have just admitted it to you. He liked the chase. He liked the resistance with you, he admitted when his hand began to wander. You had been a hard one to "reel in" and at that comment, you pushed him off the stool and marched out of the bar.

It didn’t make sense, but what could you do about it anymore? All that was left was to march back to your apartment, pour a hefty glass of wine, and indulge in a long bubble bath. Maybe relationships weren’t your thing, maybe love needed to take a back seat, you contemplated.

You let out a sigh of relief once you made it to your apartment building. You were suddenly overly thankful you had set up the date at a bar close to you.

After punching in the entry code, you made your way up the stairs still barefoot. Concentrated on not stepping on any trash or scraps, you didn’t see someone at the top of the landing. Unexpectedly, you collided, both of you fumbling backwards a bit. You heard a basket hit the ground as your shoes landed on the stairs with an unpleasant bang.

"Jesus, I’m so-," you began, fumbling for your shoes, as your eyes registered the person you ran into. It was was your neighbor and, arguably, best friend Natasha. She looked a bit exhausted herself. Her hair was in shambles and she wore pajamas — not something you quite always saw her in. She was usually much more together during the day so this get-up always made you chuckle. "Sorry, Nat, seriously didn’t see you there."

She smiled back, collecting her laundry back into the bin, "You end up going blind tonight, hon?"

You shook your head, playfully rolling your eyes. Scoffing, you said, "That’d be the cherry on top tonight."

Natasha looked back at you with a frown. She took in your appearance — knee-length flowy dress, pantyhose, jean jacket, and barefoot with heels dangling in your hand.

"Date went sour?" She asked, a hint of actual wonder in her voice. That was what you loved about her. Not only was she a good (quiet) neighbor, she was also a… friend. Yeah, a friend. She didn’t make your heart jump or stomach do backflips with the looks she’d shoot you. She certainly didn’t make you blush when she actually took interest in your problems or interests. It was just friendly.

You nodded, "He buttered me up for almost a month just to try to get me in bed. Scores points for dedication, I guess."

Natasha picked up her laundry and motioned for you to follow her. You made your way, shoulder-to-shoulder, suppressing any other thoughts, to her apartment. Unlocking it, you followed her to her living room where you could finally sit and relax your feet. Natasha stood by the side table, folding the laundry.

"Did he at least buy your drinks?" Natasha asked.

You laughed, "Nope."

She rolled her eyes as she threw a folded t-shirt on the coffee table.

"Was there any conversation?"

"At first," you shrugged. "It turned unbearable pretty fast. He was such a great guy in text messages, though, that’s what I cannot get over."

She finished up folding the basic stuff like t-shirts and jeans and abandoned the rest to come sit next to you on the couch. It was such a sudden movement your heart nearly jumped.

"Well," Natasha began, getting situated on the couch. She sat criss-cross with her back to the other couch arm, facing you. You shifted in your seat to copy her stance. "Men can be super weird — hell, anyone can be super weird — but, at least you tried it. You seem very persistent when it comes to dating."

You felt yourself blushing as Natasha gave you her world-famous knowing smirk. She knew you too well. She’d seen you after nearly every date that went down the drain. She sat through the rants and wine nights offering something to you and each time, feelings kept building. But it could never — could it?

You started playing with your fingers and averted your gaze to the leather couch, praying she didn’t pick up any signs even though that was impossible. The woman was trained. She was one hell of a superhero — not to even mention her lengthy past — she knew what you were doing, but didn’t give any notions of it.

"Yeah, well, it may be time I give it up for a bit,"

The words even just leaving your mouth stung. You didn’t want to give it up — you just wanted something that appeared forbidden. No woman you went out with and certainly no man you ever encountered could compare to the red-head staring at you.

"Well," Natasha sighed, her gaze averting to her kitchen. "What would you say if I told you I was in love with you?"

Time froze. Your focus on the couch got more intense. Your heart dropped a hundred floors. You didn’t even know if you could properly move. She didn’t say that — did she? Are you just imagining what you wanted to hear? It was a joke, right? It was a joke. Just a nice little fib, two besties playing around, you decided.

Composing yourself the best you could, with a shaky voice you tried to casually respond, "That you have terrible taste."

You thew in a chuckle at the end, trying to show you knew it was a joke and that you could play along — but Natasha’s look didn’t match that. Her gaze came back to you, jaw slightly dropped. She readjusted herself to sit up straight, taking a much more serious position.

"Y/N, I’m serious," she said, carefully, enunciating every letter it felt like. Her eyes were so strong, it pulled you almost. Her tone was one with her — serious and never shifting.

She… she had. She had done that and it wasn’t a stupid prank or something. Someone actually good and caring in this world was taking an interest in you. Fuck, she loved you and you loved her… but you hadn’t said it yet. Oh shit, you hadn’t said a substantial word yet. Natasha was starting to get uncomfortable with the stunned silence but just as she was about to ask you to leave, your brain found your voice.

"I love you," you blurted out with all the force you could muster. Gosh, you hadn’t even admitted that to yourself but it was true. It felt good to say, good to accept. Of course you loved her. She’d stay up with you gossiping or discussing another crappy man from Tinder. You two had regular Sunday brunches at the pancake house down the street neither of you dared to miss. She’d indulge in your interests, watching the twinkle in your eyes while you’d be there ready to set out for whatever new adventure she wanted to take. Heck, she even managed to drag you camping — you hated camping but you loved her and that was all that mattered. You spent so much time hunting the web for your soulmate when really she just lived across the hall.

"You- you mean that?" Natasha’s voice was suddenly so soft. You had never heard her like this. She seemed… nervous. Soft and nervous. She was just as unsure as you were and that was understandable.

"Yeah," You chuckled, a smile playing at your lips. "I do mean it. I love you. I- I think I have for a while."

Natasha spent a second looking for any hints of lying before quickly placing her lips on yours. The movement came at you so fast, you both nearly fell off the couch, but once your brain registered, your lips moved like they belonged. She gripped your waist as the passion in the kiss drove up. Your arms found their way around her neck, your hands playing with strings of her hair.

She broke away for a second and whispered, very much out of breath, "I love you. I’ve always loved you."

You chuckled and whispered it right back. The passion matched the kiss and you pulled her down, sinking into the couch, hands wandering recklessly.

[egcdeath]

act natural

pairing: steve rogers x reader

summary: sometimes, you just have to share the bed. 

word count: 2.4k

warnings: fluff, sharing a bed, idiots in love, cheesy

a/n: this is really just an excuse for me to write a lot of self indulgent bants, but it’s also a part of @stargazingfangirl18’s soft!dark challenge, and i decided to write something soft and use the prompt of only having one bed! (p.s. i like did not edit this at all so if a few words are used a lot pls forgive me) 

Dinner at the safehouse was finally wrapping up after a long day of getting your ass beat by an angry android and a few enhanced teenagers. You and everyone else around you seemed to be more than exhausted from the extensive day of revisiting deeply repressed traumas, and petty arguments between teammates over who was truly at fault for every predicament you found yourselves in.

You took a long and final swig from a beer bottle, glancing up to Bruce and Nat as they stood up and pushed in their chairs, retiring for the night. 

“Thanks for hosting us, Laura,” Natasha offered, grabbing her plate from the dinner table, and dropping it off in the dishwasher.

“Of course, guys. Any time,” she gave a half smile to her friend, then looked back at the table, where everyone else had taken the memo, and found themselves somewhere in the process of leaving the table, or grabbing their dishes, “but before you all go, I wanted to warn you that someone else is gonna have to share a room tonight.”

You glanced over at Steve, who was on your left, and Tony, who was sat at the head of the table. You and Steve shared an awkward chuckle at the thought of being in the same bed, not even considering the similarly uncomfortable situation of sharing a bed with Tony. 

“I think I’ll be rooming alone. These two lovebirds can share,” Tony chided before either of you even had a chance to think of a response. You looked back over at Steve, whose cheeks were currently dusted with a light shade of pink, and the bigger man quickly looked away from you.

“Tony, you know we are not- you know what, nevermind,” you huffed, deciding the argument was not worth it. 

Tony shook his head as he dropped his dishes off in the dishwasher. “So no objections?” he asked teasingly, eyeing you both with a smirk on his way back from the kitchen. “Why am I not surprised?” You could’ve sworn you heard Clint and Fury laughing to themselves before excusing themselves from the table, and dispursting though the house.

Besides the slight humiliation of being teased for your situation, you weren’t too concerned about the act of spending the night, or next few nights with Steve. You and Steve were friends, or something like that. Just a few pals with crushes that you refused to admit to each other (or yourselves).

Pushing this thought aside, you grabbed the neck of your empty beer bottle, along with a few pieces of silverware and marched off to the mechanical cleaner yourself. You dropped off the things that needed to be cleaned, tossed your bottle in the recycling bin, then went to turn away when Steve grabbed your arm, automatically catching your attention. 

“Is this okay with you?” He asked, letting his vice grip on your arm go.

“It’s fine. I’ll see you upstairs,” you muttered before speeding off, and heading upstairs where you strolled into the only vacant room, with the door wide open, and both your own and Steve’s duffle bags on the floor. 

You made a mental note to thank whoever brought them in (probably Laura), and dug through your bag to find something even slightly comfortable to sleep in, eventually settling on an oversized shirt and your favorite cotton shorts. 

You had just barely finished changing in the tiny closet when you heard the soft click of the room door, notifying you of Steve’s arrival. You slid open the closet door, and made a beeline for the bed, flopping onto the left side, and reaching for your phone as a distraction. 

“Do you want me to sleep on the floor?” Steve asked, searching through his own bag until he found the only clean comfortable pair of pants he had in there, that just happened to be a jokey Christmas gift donned with a red white and blue color scheme, and graphics of mini shields on it.  

“What the hell, Steve. Of course not,” you set your phone down so that you could get a better look at him. “We probably have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” You could live with that excuse, especially considering that it would not be very becoming of you to tell your crush that missing an opportunity to sleep in the same bed as him feels like a federal crime. 

He stood up from his squatting position, squeezing into the tight space of the closet so that he could change into the corny pants, and finally get out of his clothes from the day, “I just didn’t want to make things weird.”

“Well, they won’t be as long as you stay on your side, okay?” You said petulantly, setting two pillows across the middle of the queen sized bed and attempting to ignore the excited butterflies in your stomach. 

“I will,” Steve responded, exiting the closet slipping into the right side of the bed cautiously, and looking at the wall that was facing him.

You glanced over at Steve, and when you caught wind of his shirtless torso, you couldn’t help but to look away with a warm face,“this is so awkward now,” you said after a beat. “Why couldn’t you have roomed with Tony?”

“Tony is the worst bed mate ever. Total blanket and pillow hog,” Steve chuckled, attempting to ease up some of the tension.

“You’re no saint either. I’ve heard you’re a cuddler,” you bantered back, allowing yourself one more glance at the man. Steve seemed to be having the same thought as you at the same time as you, as your eyes briefly met. 

It was uncomfortably silent in the room once more, and you reached over to your nightstand to turn off the bedside lamp, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Night, Steve,” you turned your back to the border of pillows, fell into a fetal position, and squeezed your eyes shut, hoping that you’d be able to find some sort of peace after such a bizarre day. You tried not to dwell so much on the horrors you’d been forced to face earlier, and instead relied on the rhythmic breathing coming from the man next to you to ground you.

----

You weren’t sure when exactly you fell asleep, but a jolting of your bed, and a bit of a commotion coming from somewhere in your room pulled you away from your unsettling dreams.

Blinking yourself awake, you uncurled your body, and rolled over to look at Steve, whose legs were thrown over the edge of the bed while he panted heavily.

“Steve?” you slurred sleepily, “you ‘kay?”

“’m fine,” he yawned.

“Well you woke me up,” you mumbled, throwing your head back against a pillow.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I was having a shitty dream anyway.”

“Really? I was too,” Steve refused to look at you, staring blankly at the wall.

“So tell me about it,” you hummed.

“It’s just… I keep thinking about how I missed out on so many things from the past. I could’ve been happy, living out my days in a semi-peaceful and familiar world. Not anything like this.”

You sat up as you listened, pushing aside a pillow from the border you’d constructed to move closer to Steve and set a reassuring hand on his back.

“I guess I just wish that I was there. With everyone and everything I used to know.”

“But it’s not all bad, right?” you offered, and Steve shrugged before looking down. 

 “I’m sorry. I really am. I know that I’ll never truly understand that, but there’s nothing any of us can do about it now. You’re here now, and you have no other choice but to make the best of it. I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but if you spend all of your time in the present lamenting about what things could’ve been in the past, you’re just gonna be miserable forever,” you rambled sleepily, words slurring occasionally. 

“Your experience is so unique, so I could be getting this all wrong, but there are plenty of good things here in the now. I mean, a world without the internet? I don’t know if that’s a world worth living in,” you chuckled softly, and were joined in your quiet laughter by the man on the other side of your bed.

“Seriously, though. I know you can’t control your dreams, but maybe your subconscious is letting you know that it’s okay to let go. Of like, the past. It might just be time for you to move on and be happy. I’m sure that Peggy and everyone else from your past would’ve wanted that for you too.” In the dark, you saw the silhouette of Steve’s head nodding. 

“You always know what to say, huh?” he asked, kicking his legs back over onto the bed while you scooted back over into your previous space. 

“I’m like half asleep right now, Steve. If you asked me to repeat half of what I just said, I would not know what to say,” you giggled. 

“You wanna talk about your dream?” Steve asked in a concerned tone. 

“Mmm, I actually just wanna go to sleep. As crazy as that may sound,” 

“Is there anything that I can do to help you not have another bad one?”

“Hmmm,” you pondered, becoming a bit more lethargic by the moment. “Spoon me?”

“As you wish,” Steve happily obliged, grabbing one of the pillows from the middle of the bed and adding it to his stash of pillows. 

You threw a pillow from the border between your knees, and received a strange look from Steve. “What? I heard it’s good for your back.” He still didn’t seem convinced. “Stop being so judgy and cuddle me already,” you murmured, turning your body so that you could lay on your side.

Steve scooted closer to you, and you pressed your back to the front of his chest. He tossed an arm over you and somehow managed to pull you even closer to him. You swore you hadn’t been this comfortable since you left the womb, and you nearly purred in response. 

“Can I make a request?” he asked.

You simply nodded.

“Can we just… talk until we fall back asleep?” 

“That’s really cute,” you mumbled into your pillow. 

“You just have a relaxing voice!” he defended playfully.

“You are such a dork,” you giggled. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Just tell me about… I dunno, anything.”

“That was so helpful, Steven.”

“My bad. Tell me about your favorite… mission?”

“Mm, probably that one time you and I had to go undercover for like a month to bust that arms dealer.”

“Which one?”

“Some dude in the Midwest. Can’t remember his name.”

“Oh yeah, yeah I know who you’re talking about.”

“It was fun being your life partner for a month. We were really good at being domestic.”

“Hmm, now that I think about it, we really were. Do you remember that cookout?”

“Of course I do,” you laughed at the memory. “Everyone else was getting so drunk, but you just… couldn’t. They were like Joseph, you’re such a beast, and shit. And who would’ve guessed that you, the old timer would be such a beast on the grill.”

“Well, who would’ve guessed that you were so good at cornhole?”

“Was I really that good? Or were you just really bad? Like really bad, especially for someone whose skill set revolves around having good aim,” you teased.

Steve scoffed and laughed, shaking his head at you. 

“How didn’t those people recognize us? I just don’t get it.”

“You’d be surprised how much a beard and dyed hair can change your look.”

“I guess,” you sighed softly, and set a hand on top of Steve’s. “Does this feel counterproductive to you? We’re just sitting here giggling. We’re probably getting less tired.”

“I guess I am less tired. But I’m also not thinking about the impending robot apocalypse.”

“Well now that you brought it up, I’m thinking about the impending robot apocalypse. You better fix this, Rogers.” Emboldened by what must’ve been the butterflies in your stomach falling asleep, you began to roll a bit in his arms so you were facing each other, kicking away the pillow between your legs in the process. 

“How can I make it up to you?” Steve asked, raising a brow.

“You’re the man with a plan, right? Think of something,” your lip quirked slightly in a smirk.

Steve leaned in just the smallest amount, before a lightbulb seemed to go off in his head. “I got it. We can do one of those one word stories until we fall asleep.”

Well, that’s not exactly how you thought this moment was going to go. 

“Okay, I’ll start then,” you nodded, pressing your head down against a soft pillow, and looking up at Steve, “once.”

“There,” Steve added.

“Was.”

“A.”

“Death-bot,” you giggled. 

“Okay, Y/N. No. No more stories. We can just listen to each other breathe now until we fall asleep like before since you wanna ruin the mood.”

“What mood? And you listened to me breathe?”

“What else was I gonna listen to?” he furrowed his brows, “it’s too late for this anyway. We can talk in the morning.”

“All you had to do was tell me that it’s way past your bedtime, and I would be understanding. But goodnight anyway, Stevie,” you cracked him one last smile, not budging from your position as you closed your eyes. 

It was silent for a few minutes before Steve whispered up out of the blue, “you still awake?”

You slurred something into the pillow, much more asleep than awake. 

“Well, I really like you a lot. Maybe one day I’ll get the guts to tell you that when you’re not completely out of it.”

You grunted as a response, and Steve couldn’t seem to wipe the grin off his face, not while he was falling asleep, and certainly not during his rather pleasant dreams.

——

You just couldn’t seem to catch a break with your wake up calls. While you and Steve seemed to sleep through the rapping against the door, and the door itself opening, you both seemed to become aware after the artificial shutter of an iPhone camera flooded through your ears.

“You guys just looked so cute, I wanted to archive this moment for the rest of time. And I’m sure the team will be glad to see that you got along well last night,” Nat teased as your eyes widened and you shot up. “Breakfast is ready downstairs, by the way.”

Well, you two were going to have a great time explaining this one. 

[darker-soft-starker]

Starker High School AU, Pt 3 (Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 4, Pt 5)

-----

There were two things in life that Peter was unequivocally certain were true.

Number one was that Monday mornings were a universally despised, unpleasant experience that no weekend could ever ease the pain of having to endure.

And number two: Sit-ups were a specific and profound mechanism of torture that no person should ever be required to engage in, recreationally or mandated.

Of course, it would be just his luck that the two were combined on this very Monday morning.

It was cruel and unusual is what it was, Peter thought, hands curled at his temples as he pushes himself into a sitting position, falling back onto the dewy grass with a thud that steals the breath from his chest.

Bucky, holding his ankles, encourages him to complete his set.

“I can’t,” Peter gasps, his stomach trembling as he pulls himself up again. “I - oh fuck - I hate this. I hate exercise.”

Bucky squeezes his ankles tighter. “C’mon, Parker, only three more. You can do it.”

Peter shakes his head, even as he pulls himself up again with a pained groan.

“No, I can’t. Make it stop.”

“Two more. You got it. Sit-ups are not the boss of you.”

“Yes - ahh - they are!”

“One more!”

Sweat pours down his neck and his muscles protest as he pulls himself up for the last time. He gets probably only most of the way up before his gravity slams to the ground.

Bucky slaps his bare calf encouragingly as Peter stares up into the glaring morning sun, arms splayed out, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. Oh, god. Never again. That was the worst. 

Covering his eyes with his quivering arms he wonders if maybe coach will indulge him just this once. Maybe he can stay here until training is over, perhaps curl up into a ball and try to blend in with the grass so that no one sees him or subjects him to any more exercise. 

Except Coach Danvers is already yelling at him to get off the ground and get moving.

He smacks his hands over his ears but it’s no use.

“Get up Parker, last warning!”

“Respite!” He yells back pleadingly, curling in tighter upon himself. “Please!”

Her whistle pierces the air.

“Now!”

Coach has been on edge all morning. Her harsh has turned razor edged in the face of their upcoming match against Kingston this Thursday, reminding the team of her expectations, tolerating nothing other than complete dedication.

Which, whatever.

Peter’s dedicated, okay? It’s Monday. He dragged his ass out of bed to be here at an unholy hour, exhausted and bloated from his indulgent weekend, didn’t he?

Erring on the margin of spite towards Danvers and self motivation, which he suspects is her aim, he pushes himself back up. Taking each of Bucky’s ankles in his grip, he starts counting as Bucky begins his set. 

Not that he needs the assistance, Bucky proves his strength by ripping through the set like a bull stampeding through a brick wall. He doesn’t even break a sweat. Dude’s crazy athletic.

It’s really not fair.

As he mentally counts the reps, Peter thinks Bucky’s the kind of fit that Peter both hoped and never hoped to be. He’s effortlessly capable at any physical task, but he works hard for it, harder than Peter would ever dream of working, dedicating hours to gym time and conditioning. Bucky’s not even out of breath when he strikes up conversation. 

“How was your weekend, PP?”

“S’okay. Played Mario Kart with my Aunt all weekend.”

Bucky grins as his upper half rises to meet his knees. “Oh, party animal. She doing okay?”

“Yeah, she’s good,” Peter grins wryly, taking one of his hands from the other’s ankle to push the sweat-damp hair from his eyes. “Kicked my ass though. She always takes Toad.”

“Switch?”

“Nah, GameCube. How was your weekend?”

“Boring. Parents were home all weekend and wanted some ‘family time’.”

“So, you just watched The Voice all weekend?”

“Yup.”

“Nat sneak in after?”

“Yup. How’d it go with Stark on Friday?” Bucky accepts Peter’s hand as he finishes his set. Peter pulls him up and pats him on the back.

The set off in a jog to complete a lap of the field, Coach yells that only five minutes are left, urging them to pick up speed. Peter’s lungs burn when he speaks.

“It was fine.”

Bucky looks at him dubiously, flyaways whipping at his face.

“Well not like, fine-fine, but no bloodshed. See? All limbs intact.” He holds his arms out mid-sprint. 

“Wow, so you’re basically best friends now.”

“No.”

“Did you hold hands and braid each other’s hair?”

Incensed, Peter shoves at Bucky to the sound of his snickering,

“Ew, stop, I just had breakfast. Look, the first experience was painful enough. Can we move on? I really don’t want to talk about it.”

---

“And then he hit on my Aunt,” Peter complains in the showers, soaping up his chest. “Literally right in front of me. Who does that?”

“Did she flirt back?” Bucky asks, dipping his head into the spray. 

“What? No. He said he was just trying to get under my skin,” he puts his head beneath his own shower head, the water pleasantly lukewarm against his heated skin. “I mean, what kind of psychopath does that?”

“Yeah, but your aunt is super hot though,” Wilson says to his right. “Stark’s an asshole, but he’s not crazy.”

There is a general murmur of agreement around the showers. 

“I’m going to need you all to shut up right now,” Peter warns, turning to point at them all. “Keep my aunts name out of your mouth while you’re washing your balls, alright?”

“You heard him, move on,” Rogers cuts in, offering Peter a sympathetic smile. 

He nods gratefully as conversation quickly turns to girls, grades and the upcoming Thanksgiving holidays. There was a reason why Peter was on Roger’s side all these weeks ago, he thinks, observing how the entire team respects his command without query. The guy was just interested in doing the right thing, and that’s pretty cool.

By the time they’re all dried and dressed, the topic is forgotten, much to Peter’s relief. He’s nearly late to first period though, too busy watching Wilson and Barnes smack each other with wet towels and attempting to tame his unruly curls into something resembling neatness. He’s not proud of the amount of gel it takes, but it’s what he’s got to work with. 

It’s not that he’s obsessed with his appearance or anything, but he has a routine that he sticks to. Gel and lots of it.

Once, in third grade, Flash pulled one of Peter’s tightly coiled ringlet between his fingers, pulled on it and said oink. Peter still had some lingering baby fat at the time and so, as cruel as children can be, Peter was donned Piggy Parker for a time afterwards. Sometimes Porky Parker. They’re friends now, but the oinking and snuffling that followed him around the playground still haunts him.

Anyway.

On the way to first period Rogers walks alongside him down the hall. They have English together, but usually make their way separately. It kind of weirded Peter out for a moment because while they’re team-mates, they’re not really friends. 

“Heard you got paired with Stark for an assignment,” the other boy says, his wry smile caught between amused and sympathetic. “That’s shit luck, Parker.” 

“You’re telling me,” Peter agrees, waving to Ned and Betty as they pass. “Dude’s a freakin’ prick.”

Rogers bumps their shoulders together.

“You said it. Want me to have a word with him, get him to back off?”

“Nah,” Peter shakes his head. “I can handle Stark, he’s just some bored rich kid looking for a fight. Besides,” he gives Rogers a once-over, “pretty sure you’re supposed to keep your distance after your last brawl with him.”

“True,” he concedes, clamping Peter’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze as they stop before their room. “But we’re a team, alright? Just say the word and I’ll encourage some sense into him. Promise to be gentle.”

Peter clamps his hands over his heart with a flair of drama, despite being truly touched. “You’re my hero, Captain Rogers.”

Rogers rolls his eyes and shoves him into the classroom.

“Alright, smartass. Let’s go.”

Inside, he smiles sheepishly at Mrs Perez who glowers at them for their lateness and takes his usual seat between Clint and Shuri. He signs a good morning to the former and smiles at the latter, who is staring down at her desk with disdain.

“What’s wrong?” He nudges her chair with his foot to grab her attention.

“The curriculum.” She raises her head and points to the board miserably. It reads Lord of the Flies.

Oh, great. He could use the nap.

Peter smiles sympathetically, opening his nearly full notebook up to a blank page. “How was your weekend?”

“Meh.”

“Meh?”

“Mmm,” She nods, gesturing airily. “You know, eh. Oh, oh! I heard you spent the weekend getting cosy with Stark,” Shuri follows, pretending to search through their textbook. “Wow, that’s a three-sixty, PP. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“What?” Peter hisses, voice lowering when their teacher looks around as roll-call commences. “That’s not -- ”

“Parker!” Perez yells for roll call.

“Present!”

Shuri snickers as Peter’s hand shoots up.

Lucky for him it’s the last he hears of it.

Kinda.

---

His next class is Bio with MJ who, thankfully, says very little through class. She inspects him with bleary eyes when he enters, nursing a coffee in her hands, always earlier than Peter who has to come from the other side of the school.

Peter’s grateful for the reprieve. When she does speak to him, it’s to borrow a pen or to offer him a sip of her coffee. It’s not a lab class today, only note-taking and listening to their teacher drone on about plant anatomy in the same monotone, so he accepts the bitter black coffee without hesitation.

It’s only then that he ventures to initiate conversation.

“So,” he begins precariously, doodling in his notebook, “how was your weekend?”

She shrugs, appearing more awake than earlier. “It was okay. You?”

“It was okay.”

And that was that, he’s relieved to note, companionable silence falling between again as they turn their attention to their teacher again. It’s not until they’re packing up their books at the end of class that MJ speaks to him again.

“See you at lunch?”

“Yeah, dude. Save us a table?”

“You bet. Oh, and by the way, I heard Stark is gonna be your new step-daddy. Congrats.”

Peter groans.

“How do you -- you know what, no,” he says, pulling his backpack over his shoulders and making a x with his arms. “Nope. No more talking about Stark, he is persona non grata. I’m traumatised enough.”

MJ pushes his glasses up after they slipped precariously down his nose during his declaration. “You’re so dramatic, dude.”

He bumps their shoulders together on the way out of the room and shakes his head.

“Why do people keep saying that?”

---

Ned texts him during recess; Peter is taking an extended break in the bathroom despite not needing to be there, but he’s definitely not hiding, nope. He’s just chilling in the cubicle.

< heard stark spent the weekend < lol wtf < plz verify < actually i don’t want to know < no wait i do tell me < dude

< hello?

----

Traitors, all of them.

He wonders if he should leave this school and start anew elsewhere.

---

Here’s the thing.

As much as Peter loves his friends, he has limits to how long he can spend with them before needing a time out.

They’re his motley crew of village idiots. Some he’s known since first grade, like Ned and Flash, others only since he came to the school and subsequently, the football team.

This school headhunted him because of his academic merit. With his pursuit of scholastic excellence - and the fact that some of his best friends would be attending the school, he applied for and was awarded a scholarship. It was a no-brainer - he had big dreams and even bigger expectations of himself to achieve them and he wanted May to be proud of him.

Which was why when it was suggested that he try out for JV, having exhibited some physicality during gym class, he decided to give it a try. It would look great to have on his applications, he was assured.

So he did. Somehow his wiry frame and years of gymnastics was considered an asset and he was promptly recruited by Coach Danvers. At first he deeply regretted the additional commitment -- the early hours, the soreness, adapting to the internal culture within the team. But he’s persevered and he’s glad that he did. 

And for the most part, he copes okay. He can juggle football obligations and after-school activities and the odd tutoring jobs here and there and stay sane, right?

Sort of.

Because as grateful as he was for his broad circle of friends, Peter was still, at heart, an introvert. And right now, his social energy is running on fumes. 

It’s because of this - and nothing to do with the relentless questions about Stark - that Peter retreats to the library at lunch that day. 

Nestled away in the dusty, back corner, near the collection of old encyclopaedias that nobody reads, are an assortment of bean bags. It’s away from the main area, quiet and disregarded by most. It used to be a thriving recreational area way before Peter’s time, but there wasn’t any maintenance to it over the years. Now the bags are old, terribly lumpy and are speckled with suspicious stains, the fabric is thinning and aged. Most people purposefully avoid the old rec area, which is why Peter likes this spot best. It’s his secret hiding space.

He prepares to disassociate for the next forty minutes by getting comfortable on his favorite bean bag and popping his earphones in. 

Next, he retrieves his slightly soggy ham-tomato sandwich from his bag and takes a large bite after unwrapping it. The first burst of tomato hits his tongue at the same time as the music begins. 

Ah, to be alone.

Closing his eyes, he allows his body to sink into the bag and for his thoughts to wander freely.

Of course, because his luck is as poor as he is, his seclusion lasts all of three songs before someone else enters into his space. Well it’s not his space, technically, but it should be. 

When Peter creaks an eye open to see who is intruding he’s surprised to see Thor perched on the bean-chair opposite him. They catch each others stare and smile.

Well, alone time is overrated. 

Maybe his luck isn’t down the drain after all - because this is his opportunity to prove he isn’t a total fumbling loser. He doesn’t know which deity he pleased to be alone in a quiet corner of the library with Thor, but someone up there is clearly looking out for him.

He wants to say something, to strike up a conversation that might make Peter seem cool and only casually interested - something that would make him sound both smart and like, available.

But not too available. 

With little success, Peter wracks his brain for the best opening line but frets because he’s ever been cool or collected a day in his life. And great, now he’s just been sitting there smiling for like two whole minutes like an absolute weirdo. Come on, Parker, say something! 

Thor acts well before Peter has the chance to say anything, pointing at him, his mouth moving with words Peter can’t hear. 

Realising a moment too late that his earphones are still playing music from his phone, Peter hurries to tug them out if his ears, smacking himself in the face in the .

“Sorry, I was --” Peter gestures to his ears, hands shaking, cheeks going hot. God, Thor is talking to him. Him! Peter Parker! “Sorry. What did you say?”

“I said I like your shirt!” Thor replies, way more loudly than what would normally be socially acceptable for a library, but Peter does not care. Thor likes his shirt.

“This?” He asks, gesturing downwards to his shirt where crumbs are dusted at the collar. “You like Nirvana?”

“I do not know Nirvana,” Thor smiles, “but it looks very cool. Peter, right?”

“Uh yeah,” he nods, face positively flaming because again, he knows Peter’s name. Quickly sweeping the crumbs from his shirt, he extends his hand out to the older boy who shakes his hand. Holy shit. Be cool. “I’m Parker -- I mean, Peter. Yes. Nice to be here. I mean, nice to be speaking. To you.”

Even as Peter’s arm is roughly jostled with Thor’s exuberant hand-shaking embarrassment crawls up his neck, and he wants to disintegrate into the bean bag where no one has to witness his persistent, glaring awkwardness. Palms sweating, Peter has to bite his lip to stop himself from commenting on how big Thor’s hands are.

Stop it, he scolds himself, be normal, play it cool.

“Thor, right?” Peter asks, as if he didn’t doodle their initials together in his notebooks. “You were at training last week.”

“Yes, you fell on your face,” Thor nods, gesturing to the yellowed bruising on his jaw, “I saw.”

“Oh, okay, so you saw that! Uhh -- ” Peter waves a hand at his face, laughing nervously. “This? It’s nothing. I’m totally fine.”

“You are clumsy,” Thor states, not unkindly.

“Well, no -- I mean, yes --” Peter tries to come up with an explanation, but falls short. “I’m not always a klutz, promise. Just sometimes.”

“Happens to the best of us. Well, not myself, but you know, generally speaking. In any case, I’m happy to see you’re okay.” 

Thor unzips his backpack then and from within it retrieves a truly gargantuan protein shake, followed by a sub wrapped in foil so large it could be the same size as Peter’s forearm. Sneaking a look down at the remainder of his own lunch, his pickings look pretty slim in comparison. 

“Sorry,” Thor says. “Just peckish for a snack.”

Peter watches, dazed, as the older boy consumes half his sub in a single bite, washing it down with several mouthfuls of his shake.

A snack.

“You’re fine. Anyway, football isn’t really my forte,” he admits after a moment, drawing his knees up. “I mean, I’m okay at it and I like it, but it’s not really what I’m best at, y’know?”

The blond boy nods, “I’m on the varsity team,” he proclaims, wiping his mouth. “Whatever that means.”

His accent is so thick it takes Peter half a moment to figure out what it was that he said. 

He’s not sure if Thor is being serious or not but the one question Peter has is why is he so fucking cute? 

A silence follows, albeit not an awkward one. It gives Peter the opportunity to inspect the older boy, nearly a man at his height and stature, of course helped along by the generous distribution of facial hair across his lower face. 

“Uh, did you play football back at home?” Peter asks, keen to keep conversation going. “Soccer?”

“Oh yes,” the boy nods. “Soccer, tennis, volleyball. Water polo. Badminton.”

“Wow,” Peter blinks, “that’s a lot of sport. You’re like the whole Olympics here.”

He’s awarded with a lazy grin for that comment. Thor, to his credit, doesn’t appear to be boastful about his physicality, seemingly a result of his passions instead of a product of vanity.

“Close enough, I suppose. What else do you play, besides football?”

“Uhh --”

Oh god. How is he supposed to respond to that when the idea of doing additional sports outside of football is abhorrent? He can’t tell Thor that. Surely he can fake a common interest. Think of something, Parker, think, think.

The first bell rings, saving him from having to provide a potentially humiliating answer, seeing as all how all that could think of was chess, or PC. Both of which are true and accurate, but not exactly something he thinks that would make him appear more attractive or endearing.

Thank god for fifth period.

“To be continued?” Peter asks as he picks up his backpack, just a little hopeful.

There’s an awkward bit of shuffling as they rush to get off the sagging bean chairs, moment filled with odd squeaks of polystyrene as they attempt to stand.

Thor nods and to Peter’s surprise, doesn’t immediately rush to get away from him. There’s an awkward bit of shuffling as they rush to get off the sagging bean chairs with, odd squeaks of polystyrene as they stand. Instead, he accompanies Peter all the way out of the library, walking alongside him into the main hallway where a flurry of students are intersecting to get to their next class, walking alongside him.

Heads turn to watch them as they depart the library and enter the halls. For a moment, as kids part like the red sea to make way for them - for Thor - Peter wonders if this is what it’s like to be famous. Or to be on the arm of someone famous. It certainly feels like it, because even though the revere isn’t for Peter specifically, it seems like the weight of everyone’s awe is on them.

He doesn’t like the attention. But he likes Thor.

To his delight, the older boy follows him to his locker. Embarrassingly, it sticks when Peter tries to open it, as it usually does. He struggles with it for long, humiliating moments before Thor opens it with one hand.

“Thanks,” he says, blush creeping back up his neck. “You’re like, crazy strong, dude.”

Thor flexes and inspects his own bicep, as if seeing it for the first time.

“Perhaps,” he concedes, smiling roguishly. “Back at home I used to lift my brother for weight training.”

“You what?”

“A story for another time,” Thor shakes his head, shuffling closer to be heard over the traffic of students. “Anyway, I should be going. But there was something I have been meaning to ask you, if I may take a moment --”

Peter freezes. Oh my god, this is it, he thinks. 

It’s happening.

“-- seeing as you and I have similar interests and we seem compatible, it would please me greatly if you would agree to --”

Heart racing, Peter turns, a fervent yes already on his lips.

It dies when there is a loud call of his name in the hall.

“-- Hey, Parker!”

Whatever Thor was going to say wilts at the interruption, seemingly forgotten as he waves at the intruder. Peter turns to see who called out for him and instantly wishes he didn’t.

Heart dropping to his stomach, he squeezes his eyes shut and sighs. 

This is his luck.

Never has he wanted to melt into the floor and die like he does right now as Stark approaches the pair in quick strides.

Hands shoved into his jean pockets, Stark’s wide eyes dart between them inquisitively, a shadow of a smirk crossing his face, disappearing just as quick.

“Well, pardon me. I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Tony places a hand on his heart and leans on the locker next to Peters. “Thor, barely a pleasure as always.”

“Stark,” Thor nods.

Tony simpers, smile saccharine sweet and gestures to an uneasy Peter.

“I am just so sorry to intrude, but would you mind if I spoke to my husband here? He’s such a slippery one, aren’t you, sweetums?”

Thor looks between them, head going to and fro like a pendulum.

“He’s not my husband,” Peter rushes to assure, acutely pincered between Thor’s confusion and Tony’s mischief. “I mean he is, but it’s for an assignment. We’re not really -- it’s not real. I don’t like him.”

Tony exhales heavily, looking at Thor with dismay. “That’s not what he said in our wedding vows.”

Peter wants to punch him in the throat.

“I understand,” Thor smiles, patting each of them on the shoulder. He dips his chin and catches Peter’s eye. “To be continued?”

“Y-Yeah,” Peter nods enthusiastically, probably too enthusiastically, he thinks, as his aim is to pretend to be cool and disinterested, but he doesn’t even care because maybe not all is lost after all. “To be continued. See you.”

All of the pomp bleeds away from Tony as Thor walks away, his posture turning into a slump against the locker.

The smile drops from Peter’s face. He sends Tony a heated glare as he retrieves from his books, shoving them into his bag.

“What do you want?” he grumbles, slamming his locker shut. “You have the worst timing, you know that?”

“It’s part of my charm,” the other boy shrugs. “What can I say, I’m delightful.”

“You’re deplorable.”

Tony gasps in mock offence. “Deplorable? Good lord, Parker, is that any way to speak to your husband?”

“If the shoe fits,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Look, I have to go to class. Say what you want or move out of the way.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Oh, don’t be like that. C’mon, what were you and He-Man grunting about, hmm? Grr, me big, you tiny?”

“Unless you have a point,” Peter asks, pointing to the main hall, “I’m leaving.”

Tony puts his hands up in surrender, however the glib expression doesn’t quite leave his face. But at that moment Peter doesn’t have it within him to care, he’s not here to entertain him and sooner they get this over with, the better.

“Alright, alright, buzzkill. Come outside, I have to talk to you about the assignment.”

Peter looks at him, perturbed. 

“I need a smoke,” he explains, tutting at Peter dispiritedly. “Also, don’t lie, I know it’s your free period.”

He doesn’t wait for Peter to respond, heading straight for the double doors that lead to the courtyard at a sedate enough pace for Peter to follow. Nonetheless he jogs a few paces to catch up after debating whether or not it was a good idea to follow or if he should hide in the boys bathroom.

Again.

It’s fairly chilly out, the wind whipping through his clothes. He wishes he had a scarf or gloves or something, opting to shove his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and hooking the hood over his head.

“How do you know it’s my free period?” he queries loud enough to be heard over the wind. 

“Because,” Tony turns to walk backwards, the breeze whistling around them, “it’s also my free period and you always stink up the library so I can’t go there,” he rounds the corner to lead Peter to the shaded area behind the auditorium where a few students are lingering, most of them smoking. 

“And you take the best seat. Personally, I think it’s selfish. I can’t possibly sit there after your ass has warmed it.”

Willing himself to not rise to Tony’s level of pettiness, he crosses his arms over his chest as they come to a stop. The wind is at full force now that the surrounding buildings aren’t taking the brunt of it and it is cold as all hell, although Tony’s in a black t-shirt and doesn’t look affected at all, probably because he’s cold-blooded or warmed by hellfire.

Tony cups his hands over his lighter to protect the flame from the breeze, struggling briefly to light his cigarette. Once the end is properly alight, Tony takes a drag while staring at him. 

His hand comes to rest at his thigh, smoke rising idly from the cigarette. After a moment, he exhales the smoke in Peters direction.

“Wow. You’re disgusting,” he waves his hand in front of his face to dispel the smell. “Don’t you know second-hand smoke can kill?”

"Yes. Do you want a drag to speed up the process?”

“Don’t be a dick,” he says as Tony seems to find himself funny, offering up the cigarette in jest. Peter has half a mind to snatch it out of his hands and stomp on it. “I know that’s hard for you.”

“I’m joking, okay. I thought the wind would redirect the smoke. My bad.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure. Anyway, the assignment? Still waiting for whatever was so urgent."

Tony takes another drag, flicking ash to the ground before answering.

“I booked an appointment with a realtor for tomorrow after school.”

That has Peter’s curiosity piqued. “Really? Where?”

“LIC. One of the agents has agreed to be a reference so our domestic nightmare can be officially documented. Yay, go team.”

“Yay,” Peter deadpans. “What time?”

“Appointment’s at four-thirty,” Tony retrieves his phone from his pocket and hands it to Peter. “Give me your number and I’ll send you the details.”

Peter accepts it with a grimace. It’s warm from Tony’s body heat. Ugh.

“And now you can say: ‘thank you for being proactive, Tony, you’re so much better than me, Tony’.”

“Thank you for being proactive, Anthony, even if you’re a self-aggrandizing jerk,” Peter mutters, voice getting progressively more sarcastic. 

A wide smile blooms on Tony’s face, clearly pleased with himself. 

“You’re welcome, Parker.”

He is going to let that one go, Peter decides, feeling magnanimous on spite of the circumstances. He’d never admit it, but he’s kinda surprised by Tony’s apparent initiative, and even genuinely a little grateful that the other boy has arranged this so quickly. Or even that he thought to arrange it at all - field research was one of the highest scoring components on the rubric for this assignment.

Eyes flicking up for a moment, he assesses the other boy. Maybe he’s not as much of a slacker as Peter thought he was.

Tony, slumped against the brick wall, rubs his stomach and burps quietly. 

Or maybe he is.

Nevertheless, Peter types in his details and saves his contact in Tony’s phone as Your Better Half. 

Peter isn’t too much to look at, he knows, but he’s not the weak link here.

Tony accepts the phone back and wipes the touch screen on his shirt before pocketing it. 

“Alright then, meet me after school tomorrow in the parking lot. Don’t be late,” he flicks his cigarette to the ground and steps on it to put it out. Tony bends at the waist then to pick up the stub, clutching it in his fist for later disposal instead of leaving it as litter.

That surprises Peter a little, it’s more thoughtful, conscious a gesture than he would have expected to come from Stark. Not that he’s ever personally seen such behaviour from him, but it wouldn’t be a stretch with his devil-may-care attitude. Would it?

He’s about to make mention of heading back inside when Stark takes two purposeful steps towards Peter, bridging the gap between them. 

Peter freezes on the spot, breath caught in his chest as Tony brings them nose-to-nose.

He flicks his eyes down at Tony’s lips when his solemn expression morphs into an impish smile.

“Dude, what -- ?”

While Peter is distracted, Tony’s hands dart out to grip the strings of Peter’s hoodie, tugging them until the hood shrinks around his face.

“Do me a solid and try to wear something that doesn’t make you look like you’re a step away from lining up at a soup kitchen, okay? Y’know, something nice.”

Peter smacks his hands away furiously, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as Tony backs away, snickering.

“You really get off on being a prized piece of shit, don’t you?” he mutters, somewhat self conscious as he tries to correct the hood. “Poor jokes, that’s real nice. Sorry not all of us were born wearing Balenciaga.”

He continues to struggle with it as they move away and head back towards the main building, pushing it off his head altogether. 

“Calm down, Charlie Brown, it’s not that deep,” Tony says drily, although his flippant demeanour softens significantly. “I have no doubt that you’d still manage to look like a hobo even if you were loaded, okay. You just have that grubby vibe.” Tony claps his hands together. “So, tomorrow. Meet me in the parking lot. Yes?”

Inside, away from the wind, Peter is still helpless to quell the hurricane that is Tony Stark. He gives him a tired thumbs up.

With that Tony sets off in the opposite direction, leaving Peter to wonder what the hell just happened, and what his life has become these last few days. 

“What a jackass,” he says to himself.

Now alone, he rubs his hands up and down his face, fruitlessly attempting to scrub away the memory of Tony close to him, eyes warm with mirth, the heat of his body up close and the smell of nicotine on his breath as he quite literally tugged Peter’s strings. It takes longer than he likes to will the image away and to calm the furious beat of his heart.

Furious; a feeling Peter is becoming progressively more familiar - and uncomfortable with.

Ben used to say that being angry at someone was allowing them to take up space in your head, rent free. He was right, because it never served Peter well to house animosity when acceptance was kinder to his soul and psyche, and to others -- but he can’t help it with this guy. Tony Stark is like an ear worm of the brain. He has this completely obnoxious way of making himself front and centre despite Peter’s best efforts to cast him to the sidelines.

While he’s willing himself to move on his phone vibrates inside his pocket with a new message.

> ur not my better half, loser > why r u like this > nvm i already know lol. > remember, don’t be late 2morrow

Peter, just a little satisfied with himself for getting under Tony’s skin, saves his contact as Tiny Stank and types back quickly, eager to get back to his seat in the library - assuming Stark hasn’t already occupied it - and make the best of his remaining free period.

<  whatever helps u sleep at night < also, plz lose my number after this is over

> way ahead of u, princess > say hi to aunt may for me

Ugh, Peter cringes, pocketing his phone without replying.

That guy is the worst.

---

*

*

---

tagging: @bylerboyfriends, @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @muse-of-gods, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @plueschpop, @spideravocados, @jellybbunny,  @booktrashme, @elfkido, @mycatislickingmybedsheets, @queerghostboyo, @disneyprincessdominatrix

[ace-oreos]

Alpha-17 back on Kamino, taking Anakins suggestion and helping the clones come up with names and describing what working with jedi will be like. Also i like the idea of the clones asking why he SO scarred and hes like now thats a good story and watch out for general kenobi he gets into stuff and only after they meet him and anakin are they like "Oh now i get it."

Anon! I got SO. EXCITED. when I got this! Alpha is such a great character and I really enjoy working with him. Thanks for the prompt! I hope it hits everything you asked for. :) 

Kamino is… even worse than he remembers, quite honestly. If not for the verd’ike, Alpha would be more than tempted to burn the place to the ground and be done with it. 

(It’s not the first time the thought has ever crossed his mind, and it’s certainly not the last.)

But at least he doesn’t have to deal with Kenobi or Skywalker anymore. 

Which is a plus, all things considered. Rattatak had been rough, to put it lightly - much more so than he’d let on, partly to ward off potential concern from Kenobi and partly because he refuses to admit it to himself.  

Of course, he’s traded the Jedi for a batch of cadets who are entirely too boisterous for their own good. Kenobi is still stuck with Skywalker as far as he knows, and sometimes he can’t help wondering who got the better deal.

(Then again, knowing Kenobi, he’d be all too happy to spread some osik about serenity and inner balance or something equally revolting.)

Alpha suspects it’s a product of Jango’s teaching that he’d initially headed into this assignment with high expectations for the command batch. In retrospect, he can’t for the life of him fathom where he’d acquired that notion - every single cadet under his command is the embodiment of chaos with a healthy disrespect for authority. 

He’s not one to talk, but as an officer - and a recently promoted officer at that - he feels that it’s his duty to try to uphold the command structure of the GAR. 

Still, he can’t help feeling a sense of grim satisfaction whenever one of the di’kute fires back a retort at the Kaminiise or one of the nat-born instructors. Normally any deviant behavior would be smothered for fear of reconditioning, but the Kaminiise know better than to cross him. He’s one of Jango’s, after all. 

Fett may have been a rotten father, but Alpha has a grudging respect for the man’s ability to keep them all in line for twelve years. Wrangling these cadets is exhausting; he can only be grateful that they’ll be rotated out in a few months. 

(Truthfully, he hasn’t been able to shake a sense of bone-deep fatigue since Rattatak, but that’s no one’s business but his own.) 

No one could ever accuse him of going easy on his cadets, but even he knows that every soldier needs a break sometimes. Taking a second to breathe does wonders for morale. 

Unfortunately, it also invites the possibility of conversation with the verd’ike. He’s never been as inclined to idle conversation like many of his brothers, but he’s pleasantly surprised when the rambunctious boys he’s slowly becoming accustomed to prove to be much more insightful than he’d previously imagined.

He indulges their curiosity some days. More often than not their interest lies with the Jedi they’ll be serving with soon enough, so he does his best to share an adequate depiction. They’re not omnipotent tactical masterminds like the clones had been raised to believe, Alpha warns, but they’re decent officers for the most part. 

“You served with General Kenobi, didn’t you, sir?” one of the cadets asks. 

Alpha barely suppresses the first sarcastic remark that comes to mind and instead settles for a nod and a noncommittal shrug. 

“And?” one of the other boys pipes up. 

“And what?” 

“What did you think of him?”

Well, for one thing, he’s a kriffing Jedi playing at being a politician while having at least one affair that’s strictly forbidden by his creed… 

“He’s a good officer,” Alpha says at last. “Gets a bit high-minded, and we rarely ever saw eye to eye, but he listens to his men.”

He’s been sure to drill that into them over and over, because if there’s one thing he wants them to retain it’s that soldiers will follow a commander into hell if he makes an effort to connect with them. 

“What really happened on Rattatak?” 

The question catches him off guard. For a second he has half a mind to deflect it - it’s a long story, for one thing, and an unpleasant one at that - but these cadets will be shipping out soon. He’ll have little say in things once they deploy, but he can certainly do his best to prepare them now. 

Besides, Alpha can’t fault them for wanting to explore the galaxy beyond Kamino through any outlet available. Being slated for a command slot can be isolating, and they’ve heard enough about the galaxy from older troopers to be ravingly curious about what awaits them once they step foot outside Tipoca. 

“It’s really not that interesting,” he sighs in a last-ditch effort to deter them. 

Sadly, they seem content to wait him out. 

Shabla cadets and their shabla games. 

Grumbling - they look far too smug for having secured such a minor victory - Alpha opts to give them a vague overview rather than a meticulous account of everything that had taken place after Ventress had seen fit to interfere on Jabiim. 

“The campaign on Jabiim was tipping in Separatist favor…” 

_____________________

Skywalker may be a pain in the shebs, but Alpha is coming to realize that the kid had a point about naming the cadets. It hadn’t been much of a priority among the Alpha batch, but it seems to be something extraordinary for the later generations. 

Most times, the kids don’t tell Alpha directly that they’ve chosen a name for themselves; rather, he learns to listen to the quiet discussions between squad mates, and makes a point of using those names rather than the designations they’d been assigned at birth.

Sometimes a cadet’s delight gets the better of him and he blurts it out during an exercise. Alpha rarely reacts in the moment, but he makes sure to give an acknowledgement when they’re off-duty. 

After a while, their names spring to mind before their numbers. Cody, Bacara, Gree… he still can’t determine what exactly the change signals, but he can see it in their eyes. It’s a source of pride, and who is he to deny them? 

Besides, he thinks wryly, it’s better than an unruly Padawan deciding to bestow a nickname upon them in the middle of a war zone.

______________________

The cadets seem to be under the impression that stories from the battlefield will become a regular fixture in their routine. Alpha doesn’t let that notion stand very long, but he occasionally allows their questions after a successful exercise or a particularly impressive sparring match. 

They’ve gotten even bolder since he first took command; apparently, no question is off limits. 

“You’ve got an awful lot of scars, sir,” one of the boys observes. From the tone, Alpha guesses it’s Bly. 

“Very astute, cadet,” Alpha huffs. “I’m glad my training isn’t wasted on you.” 

“Are they all from Rattatak?” 

“For one thing, I honestly don’t remember how I got every single scar, and for another, I’m not here to tell you stories,” Alpha says firmly like he hasn’t spent the past twenty minutes addressing their various questions about his experience with Jedi command. 

“It’s General Kenobi, isn’t it,” Cody pipes up sagely, and in that moment Alpha realizes he’s taught them a little too well. 

“He had something to do with most of them, yes,” Alpha admits. 

“Some officer,” Neyo mutters with his usual cynicism. 

Alpha cuffs him. “Put a lid on it, cadet. I didn’t say they were his fault - it’s just that he was usually involved in one way or another. Kenobi likes to poke his nose in where it isn’t necessarily wanted.”

Most of them look disbelieving. Alpha just shrugs. They’ll figure it out one way or another.

_____________________

Alpha jerks awake sometime around 0300 to the incessant beeping of his comlink. Grumbling to himself, he activates it and rumbles a greeting.

“Hope I didn’t wake you up, sir.” 

“You’re lucky I’m not in theater, or I would smoke your shebs for this one, Cody,” Alpha growls, because even though it’s been a while since the first batch rotated out he vividly remembers every cadet’s distinct inflection and tone. 

“We’ve heard that one before,” Cody says teasingly.

Alpha ignores the jibe. “Spit it out, di’kut.”

Cody hesitates, then bursts out, “How did you do it?”

“Do what?” Alpha asks, awake enough to be puzzled.

“Deal with Kenobi,” Cody whispers. Alpha can’t help being amused by the desperation in his voice. “He’s a disaster on legs, sir.”

“That’s nothing I didn’t know already, al’verde,” Alpha informs him.

“But sir…” 

“You’re the commander. He’s your problem now,” Alpha adds, thoroughly enjoying himself.

“Alpha…”

“Give the general my regards, Commander.” 

“Wait - ”

 “Sorry, al’verde. Duty calls.”

If Alpha is smirking when he sets aside his comlink and shuts his eyes in the hopes of getting a few more hours of sleep, no one is the wiser.