#nick fury masterlist

[themculibrary]

Nick Fury Masterlist 2

part one

a direct phone line to a mob boss (ao3) - lilyfarseer clint/phil E, 13k

Summary: Clint, in a quest for coffee, accidentally stumbles into a mob turf war and saves a mob boss named Nick Fury. Fury gives Clint an IOU in the form of a cell phone with instructions for Clint to call if he ever wants to cash in a favor. After a decade of unfortunate events, Clint accidently types, “I want to be happy”. From there, a strange number of things start occurring, starting with a text back of “Understood”, and followed by a series of strange happenstances. Then there is that really handsome guy whose apartment he accidentally crashed into with big blue eyes who sometimes asks Clint, “Are you happy?” Which really, what exactly is Clint supposed to say to him?

Agent Fury, Director Fury, Fury Nicholas J, Nick (ao3) -  R_o_x_x_a_n_n_e G, 907

Summary: Nick Fury tries to cope with Maria Hill's death, the new threats in his world and his own vulnerability.

And a game of chess

all the days of our lives, phase 1 (ao3) - ElrondsScribe pepper/tony, jane/thor, clint/laura, ian/darcy, wanda/vision, sharon/steve, bucky/natasha N/R, 41k

Summary: An Avengers-watch-their-own-movies fanfiction. I know it’s been done before, but I wanted to try it with a more expansive audience. In addition to all the Avengers (both retired and active) you’ll find Nick Fury, Maria Hill, Laura Barton, Betty Ross, Helen Cho, Jane Foster, Darcy Lewis, and even Ian Boothby.

Post Captain America: Civil War. AU, obviously. All ships in the tags. Please do enjoy! Warning: there will be a bit of language.

First up: Captain America: The First Avenger

a place to lie low (ao3) - Sholio T, 5k

Summary: Two separate Hydra-hunting missions converge, and Nick Fury and Sitwell end up getting Sam out of a tight spot. Looks like they’re all going the same way for a while.

avengers at disney world (ao3) - ctxrover clint/natasha, steve/bucky T, 70k

Summary: Fury’s fed up of the Avengers not behaving like a team, so he’s sending them on a bonding trip to Disney World with Hill as their babysitter. Meanwhile, Coulson rarely gets to spend time with his kids so he takes them to Disney World. The problem? They’re going at the same time as the Avengers-who don’t know of Coulson’s survival. Some sort of AU. Clintasha. Some Stucky. Rated T.

avengers watch captain marvel (fanfiction.net) - Roxas Itsuka T, 30k

Summary: Called forth by an unknown being. The Avengers are made watch a movie about a hero who came not long before them. Fury and Goose present also. No pairing.

beneath the shadow of atlas (we’re all just chasing stardust) (ao3) - GrimRevolution G, 2k

Summary: Carol’s gone. She went back to space.

What the hell was Fury supposed to do about the alien cat?

Don't Bet With Nick Fury (ao3) - Westgate (Harkpad) clint/phil T, 1k

Summary: Phil loses a bit to Nick, and the payoff is more than annoying than a Duran Duran song from the 80s. He and Clint have to go to his High School reunion. It's a little bit Grosse Pointe Blank, it's a little bit badass Phil. Clint thinks the whole night is a success.

easy work for easy pay (ao3) - AustinB steve/bucky M, 45k

Summary: Bucky’s working his way back up through the ranks at S.H.I.E.L.D. after a mission took his left arm and Stark gave him a new metal one.

So when Fury tasks him with integrating the newly defrosted Captain Rogers into the 21st century, he jumps at the promotion.

magic isn’t the answer to everything (only some things) (ao3) - melonbutterfly loki/tony E, 25k

Summary: In which Tony is pregnant, everybody else isn’t (except for two weeks but it doesn’t count), Fury’s chair gets abducted, there’s some panicking, a little textspeak, some overprotectiveness, a lot of tuna, and no fainting.

Nick Fury (ao3) - untilweseeawingshot pepper/tony G, 1k

Summary: Fury pays a visit to the tower and suddenly gains a new friend.

nick fury is an asshole (ao3) - pastelfalcon phil/nick/melinda G, 417

Summary: Nick has been away for awhile and Phil is (understandably) pissed off about it. Melinda is, as always, the most level-headed.

Nick Fury's Missing Eye (ao3) - apollothyme bruce/clint, steve/tony G, 1k

Summary: Inspired by this memo where The Avengers form a band just to piss off Fury.

Service Dogs for Superheroes (SDfSH): Nick Fury (ao3) - literally_no_idea T, 3k

Summary: When Carol comes back to Earth, the first thing she does is meet with Nick Fury. Well, at least, that was the plan.

somewhere in the dark (ao3) - flipflop_diva steve/natasha E, 13k

Summary: In the weeks following the events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson spend their days tracking down leads to the winter soldier’s whereabouts. But when Nick Fury shows up unannounced one night with the news that Natasha has gone missing, plans quickly change. And soon it becomes a race not only to find her but to figure out the circumstances around her disappearance. (And, of course, for Steve, it might be time to figure out how he finally feels about her.)

still life with flerken (ao3) - copperbadge G, 1k

Summary: Nick Fury: soldier, spy, strategist, cat dad.

the story behind the man: iron man 1 (ao3) - Anothershadow24 bruce/tony T, 34k

Summary: A year after the so called ‘Civil War’, the six original avengers, plus Sam, Wanda, Vision, Fury and Hill, get locked up on a room to watch a stack of films about one Tony Stark.

through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered (ao3) - indiefic E, 98k

Summary: Set post-Captain America: the Winter Soldier. Steve’s been lost since they thawed him out. When he discovers Peggy Carter is still alive, he’s even more lost. Sometimes reuniting with the love of your life isn’t happily ever after. Sometimes, it’s the very beginning of the hardest thing you’ve ever done.

((or, that one fic where Bucky’s medical records are missing. Tony thinks Fury’s growing super soldiers. Fury thinks Steve has an illegitimate daughter. Natasha knows a lot more than she’s saying. And everyone’s afraid of Peggy.))

Numerous flashbacks to the Captain America and Agent Carter timelines.

[emilygrayce91]

Masterlist - From Bucharest

After the events of Captain America: Winter Soldier and Age of Ultron, Bec Fegan, a professor of political science with a special interest in the Sokovia Accords, takes a job at the University of Bucharest. Excited with the prospect of challenging current Romanian politics, she's set on making a name for herself in a new country with new colleagues. However, her ambitions are short lived when she comes across a mysterious stranger with a haunted past who saves her life, unknowingly triggering a series of events that would bring them both closer to having to choose between their missions and their hearts.

Trigger Warning - 18+ for Violence, Sexual Themes, Trauma, Torture, Drugs, Death, Language.

Chapter 1 - To Bucharest

Chapter 2 - Plum Situation

Chapter 3 - Don't Do Anything Stupid

Chapter 4 - Longing

Chapter 5 - Rusted

Chapter 6 - Seventeen

Chapter 7 - Daybreak

Chapter 8 - Furnace

Chapter 9 - Nine

Chapter 10 - Benign

Chapter 11 - Homecoming

Chapter 12 - One

Chapter 13 - Freight Car

Chapter 14 - Red Guardian

Chapter 15 - Nothing to Prove

Chapter 16 -107th

Chapter 17 - Bucky

Chapter 18 - Bec

Chapter 19 - Accords

Chapter 20 - Baron

Chapter 21 - Winter

Chapter 22 (Coming Soon)

Last Updated: May 5, 2025

Total Words: 28,143

Chapters Posted Weekly (Sometimes Daily)

Follow me on Wattpad and AO3!!!

Archive Of Our Own From Bucharest

Wattpad

[braveclementine]

Avengers Colour Soulmate AU: Book 1 Masterlist

Summary: Imagine living in the world where you only know your soulmates when they say their own name. You have lines on your wrist, telling you what their favorite colour/ colours are. You have a singular line on your other wrist that will match one on theirs- your favorite colour. These are your soulmates, and you have eleven of them, the most in the world.

What happens, when you meet them?

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 A/N Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 What They Call You Chapter 17 What You Call Them Chapter 18 Chapter 19 A/N A/N Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37

[pascaloverx]

MARVEL MASTERLIST

© credits for the owners of the pictures used. they don't belong to me. credit is not mine for the pictures.

AO3 LINK

PREVIEW

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

[me-myself-and-my-oboe]

A Crescendo of Feelings

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x original female character

Summary:

In the heart of a bustling city, Bucky Barnes finds himself at a crossroads, drawn into the world of music he left behind. When his friend Steve persuades him to join the local orchestra, he unexpectedly encounters the vibrant and adventurous Tara, a primary teacher with a passion for the oboe. As their paths intertwine through rehearsals and spontaneous jam sessions, Bucky grapples with the ghosts of his past while Tara’s infectious spirit challenges him to embrace the present. Amidst the melodies and laughter, can they discover the harmony of their own hearts?

New story coming!

Chapter 1: New beginnings

Chapter 2: A Breath of Fresh Air

[ciaossu-imagines]

DISNEY XD'S ULTIMATE SPIDER-MAN MASTERLIST

Adrian Toomes

Reaction to being told 'You, my bed, NOW'

This or that?

Relationship headcanons

Having a crush headcanons

Family headcanons

Danny Rand

Assorted headcanons

Reaction to being told 'You, my bed, NOW'

What's their favourite scary movie?

Ava Ayala

Assorted headcanons

What's their favourite scary movie?

Peter Parker

Assorted headcanons

What's their favourite scary movie?

Luke Cage

Assorted headcanons

What's their favourite scary movie?

Sam Alexander

Assorted headcanons

What's their favourite scary movie?

Cloak

Norman Osborn

Scarlet Spider

Jack Russell

Assorted headcanons

Reaction to being told 'You, my bed, NOW'

Flash Thompson

Favourite holiday dish

Assorted headcanons

Nick Fury

[marvelstoriesepic]

Five days, Five bouquets

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Prompt: "Do I need to remind you that we're not actually married?"

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: talk of a fake marriage for the sake of a mission; fluffff

Author’s Note: This is written for the writing challenge of @elixirfromthestars ♡ I wasn’t planning on writing something so soon because I’ve still got a project going on right now, but your prompts and everything were just so alluring, I couldn’t help myself. I hope you enjoy this, my dearest. And I am almost entirely certain that this won’t be my only entry to your writing challenge, because I've got some more ideas lol. Here is a small continuation to this story: A Home for Now

Divider by @saradika-graphics ♡

Masterlist

“Again, Bucky?”

You don’t even try to mask your breathless laughter, the warmth of it slipping through as you rise from your seat.

The front door clicks shut behind Bucky and he scuffs off his boots half-heartedly on the door mat. There is a bouquet of flowers in his hand. And an even larger grin on his face.

The table before you is still cluttered with the remnants of your cover - documents, notes, a meticulously crafted facade of a life together.

A life that isn’t real, except for moments like these, when the borders become smudged just enough to make you wonder.

“‘Course, sweetheart,” he says, still smiling so wide, but his tone does not hold a trace of irony. “What kinda guy d’you think I am? Four days in a row and I just stop?” He scoffs as if the mere thought offends him. His voice is honeyed.

He stalks over to you standing at the table and holds the bouquet out for you. It is an understatedly beautiful arrangement of dusky pink roses, fluffy ruffled carnations, ivory lilies with petals curling slightly at the edges. Wisps of silvery foliage peek through, adding a breath of frost to the warmth. And then there are the deep inky leaves interwoven among the blooms, like something divine pulled from the shadows.

You take them with fingers that begin to tremble just slightly. His hand brushes over yours. A blush makes its way up your face just like every time.

You have been undercover for five days, posing as a married couple by orders from Nick Fury. And every day, even though it’s not at all necessary for you both to keep your cover, Bucky brings you a bouquet when he gets ‘home’ from his fake job.

He is embedded in a high-profile consulting firm, shadowing a suspect deeply tangled in covert operations, while you take a closer look at his wife. She’s not at all innocent. She manages high-stakes charity galas, the kind that funnel money into places they shouldn’t be. You play the devoted wife, hosting brunches, attending yoga classes she goes to, letting cautious friendships lead you to the information you need.

Five days. Five bouquets.

Each one different, but all of them hold some unspoken thing. Something that makes you shiver.

The choking in your throat is disguised with a roll of your eyes. “You do know we’re supposed to be laying low, right? Kinda hard when you’re single-handedly funding the local florist,” you tease rather lightly.

Bucky chuckles, low but bright, and you swear you feel the sound more than you hear it. “Oh c’mon, doll. Long as we’re playin’ house, I gotta keep my wife happy.”

This is a joke. It is all a joke. But your pulse is not laughing, only speeding up, tripping at the way he puts emphasis on wife. As if the word fits too well in his mouth, as if he could get used to it.

Bucky has always been a gentleman to you. Even outside of missions. But since you started this one, moving into the same house on the outskirts of town for the sake of your cover, the grumpiness and stoicism that usually surround his aura at the compound are completely lost here with you. You’ve never seen him smile as much as you have in the last five days.

You clutch the bouquet a little tighter, take a closer look, and take in the many appealing colors and scents. “Thank you, Bucky. I love those,” you say warmly.

His expression falters just a fraction like it does every time, not quite knowing what to do with genuine gratitude when it’s meant for him. Although you show it to him all the time. A flicker of something unguarded passes over his features before he covers it with a scoff that only makes it out halfway. He looks off to the side, shifting his weight. “Well, can’t have my wife thinkin’ I'm slipping already now, can I?” he laughs a little awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, the tips of his ears just the slightest bit of pink.

You turn with a huffed laugh and perform the task of putting away the flowers. Shaking your head, you start to get highly aware of the wedding band around your finger, a piece of fiction Tony gave you to wear. It looks so real, yet it is a lie. And you hate it.

“Do I need to remind you that we’re not actually married?” The words fall with amusement but they sit heavier in the air than they should.

The ring fits perfectly, Tony made sure of that. But it still somehow presses against your skin. As if to remind you that Bucky is not truly yours.

Bucky doesn’t miss a beat. You see him tilting his head from your peripherals as you reach for a vase. His smile is softened. “Don’t matter, sweetheart. Might as well treat you like my wife.” His voice is quieter now, less teasing. But sure.

The kitchen and living room are already brimming with the past four days of his affections.

One arrangement graces the coffee table, another stands by the window, and two more are carefully nestled between books on the shelf at the wall to your left. A home suffused with color, with life, with something neither of you dares to call by name.

You feel the warmth of his gaze on you. He doesn’t say anything, standing there relaxed, still with that proud and fond smile on his face, watching you as if he is engraving in his memory the way you fuss over where to place this latest offering.

And maybe you take just a little longer than necessary because if you turn too soon, you’ll have to meet his eyes.

And you don’t know if you can right now.

You’re not sure if you’d be able to look away.

But you know you should. Because this is not real.

But maybe - and this is the hope speaking - it could be someday.

“Imagine someone thinking of you and buying you flowers.”

- sleepyurl

[simplyholl]

Desperate Measures

Summary: When you encounter a mysterious substance during a mission, it forces you and your mission partner to get closer.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger F. Reader

Warnings: Quinjet crash. Sex pollen. Smut. Slight choking. Brief fucking with a gun. 18+ Only. Minors DNI.

See my Masterlist Here

You curse Nick Fury for what feels like the millionth time in the past three years. He had a "brilliant" idea, mission partners. When there was a world threat all of the Avengers would assemble. But when it came to smaller stuff like mobs, small Hydra threats, or robberies, he wanted just a few of you to take care of it.

Fury paired everyone based on their skills, their background, astrology, and other secret factors he wasn't willing to share. The idea came shortly after you joined the team, making an even number of people on the Avengers. You received copies of each other's files. You were supposed to spend most of your time with them at first to learn everything about them.

Fury wanted you to be able to almost read your mission partner's mind, to anticipate every move they made on the field. You should know them better than you know yourself. Which would have been great, except you got paired with Bucky Barnes, the former brainwashed assassin. He hated you, and you weren't even sure why. But the moment you met him, he was cold to you. He wasn't normally the friendliest anyways, but he had it out for you specifically.

He would smile and laugh with Steve and Sam. He was more guarded with the others, but he tolerated them, not you though. He fought with you all the time over nothing usually. So three years ago when Fury assigned you to be his mission partner, Bucky was furious. He complained to Fury, trying to switch. Fury immediately shot him down. He told him if he didn't like it, there was the door. After Steve talked to him, he begrudgingly accepted his fate.

You fought more often than not, an occurrence the other Avengers were used to. You’d argue the whole way on a mission. But when you were working together, you both could end your petty squabbles until it was completed. Then you’d be back at it the second it was over.

This time was no different. Bucky was flying the quinjet while you looked over a map of the Hydra facility you were going to. Your mission was simple. Break in, get the files, and get out. The building was located in Italy. You and Bucky both agreed once you got the files, you would part ways and explore the city. You were excited. The food, the culture, the men were all calling you. You packed a new dress just for the occasion.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when the quinjet made a noise that made a shiver run up your spine. The lights on the dash started blinking rapidly. Beeping filled the jet as you looked to Bucky. “Not a fucking word.” He barked at you, his metal fingers frantically pressing buttons.

The jet started to spin in the air. Bucky cursed as he tried to steady the wheel. It was no use, you were going down. You sat straight up in your seat holding onto your seatbelt for dear life. Of course, you would die with the person you hate most in the world. Karma was a bitch and you weren’t sure what you did to deserve this fate. The jet whipped around in the sky before plummeting to the ground.

After the initial shock wore off, you opened your eyes hesitantly. You must be dead. You hit way too hard and fell fast. The first thing you see is Bucky who quickly unbuckles himself and stands. Oh great, this must be hell. You’re gonna be stuck with him for all eternity. “Not that I’d have a problem with it, but if you don’t want to be here when the jet explodes, you better get out now.” Bucky tells you as he uses his metal hand to pry open a caved in wall and crawl out. You follow him with no hesitation.

Bucky walks a good distance away from the wreckage with you in tow. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and calls Nick Fury letting him know what happened. After a few minutes, he hangs up. “What did he say?” You ask hoping someone was on their way to get you. “Our coordinates show that we aren’t far from the Hydra facility. Fury said do the mission and he will have somewhere for us to spend the night when we are done. Someone will come get us tomorrow.”

“All our stuff is on the jet, are we not gonna get to go out like we planned?” You whined. You knew you were being selfish, but you had been dreaming of going out after the mission ever since you found out about it a month ago. Bucky shoots you a glare. “No, Princess. We aren’t going out after this.”

He rolls his eyes at you. You put your hands on your hips, pissed off at the nickname he calls you. “Princess” wouldn’t be a horrible nickname. But the way he used it made you furious. He said you were spoiled and bratty. So he had given you the nickname three years ago after you became mission partners.

He uses his phone to find the location of the Hydra facility. You followed him the whole time, flipping him off or making faces behind his back as he berated you for still wanting to go out. When you make it to your destination, Bucky turns around and gives you that signature glare. “If you don’t stop flipping me off and sticking your tongue out at me, I will break your fingers and rip out your tongue.”

Your heart dropped as you realized he knew what you had been up to the whole time. Before you could defend yourself, he grabbed your wrist, dragging you inside the building. He led the way through the dark. It was silent and it seemed like you were alone. You finally found the main computer. He stood guard as you pulled up the files and downloaded them to the device Fury gave you. When you were done, you shut down the computer and handed Bucky the device. He pocketed it and started walking toward the exit.

A loud siren started going off, blue lights flashed through the building. A chemical scent filled your nostrils. You look up to see red smoke descending from the ceiling. It was everywhere. You start to panic. It was probably some poison designed to kill whoever broke in here. Bucky was half way to the door when you finally realized you should move. You ran to him as he pulled on the door. “It’s locked.” He told you. Your heart beat faster as the red smoke slowly got closer to you.

Bucky started kicking the door until the wood splintered under his leather boots. You follow him to the front of the building, the red smoke almost face level with you now. He runs at the front door using his strength to break it down, but not before the smoke surrounded both of you. You both cough as it fills your lungs. He wraps his flesh hand around your arm, dragging you behind him.

You walk a good mile before you decide to speak up. “Was that poison?” You ask him, scared for what was to come. “How the hell should I know?” His hateful reply pissed you off. “I’m so angry that I’m gonna die with you of all people!”

“I’m not. I can’t wait to watch you take your last breath. I’ll fight to stay alive until you do. Then I can die peacefully.” You open your mouth to reply when his phone starts ringing. He answers it, telling who you presumed was Fury about the mission. He asked about the red smoke but it didn’t sound like Fury had the answers. When he hung up, he turned to you. “He sent me the location of the safe house. We are going to go there while Bruce and Tony try to figure out what the smoke was.”

When you arrive at the safe house, you’re actually impressed. Usually it would be some shack in the woods. But this was a nice house. It was clean, it smelled nice. Most importantly, the kitchen was full of ramen, canned food and water. You made dinner for the two of you, bringing him a bowl of ramen as he accepted a video call from Tony.

Tony was smiling so wide, his face looked like it might split in half. “I got good news and bad news, kiddos.” He waits a second before speaking again. “The good news is, you’re not going to die.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding at that revelation. “The bad news is it was a sex drug.” Bucky and you look at each other, confusion on both of your faces. Tony bursts into laughter.

“I’m gonna assume, you don’t know what I mean?” You both shake your heads as Tony continues. “Well, the sex drug enhances all your senses. You’re going to be horny if a breeze blows by. And it will be unbearable. You’ll feel like you’re going to die if you don’t have sex. And you will. The drug is designed to make your body so hot that a high fever will set in. It will boil your brain if you don’t have sex. Don’t bother touching yourselves, that won’t work. You have to sleep with someone to make the side effects go away.” Tony cackles as he looks at the shocked looks on your faces.

He looks at his watch. “You should have about an hour before it sets in. And probably four after that before it kills you. So good luck.” He laughs before hanging up. The silence between you and Bucky is filled with tension. Both of you unsure of what this situation will bring.

You finish your dinner without saying a word to each other. But you can’t take it anymore. “Do you think he’s right?” Bucky considers your question for a moment, his blue eyes focusing on you. “Yeah, he wouldn’t lie to us.” You take a deep breath. “We have about thirty minutes before we start to feel it. What are we gonna do?”

“Im going to take a shower and go to bed.” You look at him incredulously. “Bucky, he said we will die if we don’t have sex. There’s gotta be a bar around here or something. We can go out and find someone to sleep with.” You offer a reasonable solution. Bucky chuckles, “We are in the middle of nowhere. There’s no one around for miles. And I’m sure as hell not fucking you.” He spits the words at you like venom.

“I don’t want you anywhere near me. But we don’t have a choice.” You fire back, but Bucky ignores you, walking to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him. You go into the bedroom with the en-suite bathroom and take a shower too. You can feel your body start to heat up. You turn the water as cool as it can get. When you dry off, your skin is sensitive. You can feel yourself getting wet just from the towel touching you.

You look through the drawers, knowing that there was usually clothes in there just in case. You were so hot you were starting to feel like not putting any clothes on at all. But you settled on a thin, white tank top and a pair of red panties. Your hard nipples rubbed against the fabric of the tank top making you moan. You lay on the bed and check your phone. The symptoms were just now setting in, and you were already miserable.

You closed your eyes, trying to sleep. Maybe Bucky was onto something. If you could sleep through your death, it might not be so bad. But sleep never came. You tossed and turned, you touched yourself. But nothing would suppress the horrible ache between your thighs. Your panties were practically stuck to you, they were so soaked. You checked the time again, realizing you only had an hour and a half before your imminent demise.

You stand up on shaky legs and walk to the bedroom Bucky was in. Desperate times called for desperate measures. You knock on the door gently at first, but after a few minutes pass with no answer, you try the door handle. It’s locked. You beat your fists against the door. “Bucky let me in. I’ll do all the work. You can close your eyes, pretend I’m someone else. We can put bags on our heads. But I need you to fuck me right now.”

He opens the door, his long hair in a messy bun, his blue eyes dark with lust. He’s naked, his hard cock on full display. “Bucky, please. I know we hate each other, but we have to. I can’t take this.” He doesn’t say anything as he grabs you with his metal hand slinging you onto the bed. You gasp as your back hits the mattress. Bucky towers over you looking at your body hungrily. His gaze lingers on your breasts. Your nipples are so hard, you’re surprised they haven’t cut through your tank top.

“If we are doing this, we do it my way.” He grumbles. You just lay there, willing to do whatever he wants. He walks over to the nightstand, grabbing his pistol and walking back to you. “What are you doing with that?” You ask wide eyed. “Shut the fuck up.” He growls. You swallow hard as he brings the gun down over your torso.

He grips your tank top between his large hands and pulls. The rip of the fabric echoes through the silence. He moves above you, bringing his head to your breasts. He captures a nipple between his lips, pulling it with his teeth. You cry out as he soothes the pain with his tongue, lapping at it gently.

He jerks your panties down your legs, discarding them behind him. “God, Princess, you’re soaked.” He runs the muzzle of the pistol through your folds. The cold metal making you shiver. He positions it slightly, sliding the barrel into you with ease. “Bucky! What’s with the gun?” He smirks as he works the weapon in and out of you. “I don’t want to touch you yet.” He shrugs, maneuvering the barrel causing it to hit your g-spot. Your toes curl and you arch up off the bed.

Bucky grabs you back down, his vibranium arm laying across your stomach to hold you in place. He removes the pistol, looking at it in awe. It’s covered with you. His tongue darts out to lick your arousal off it. He moans as he sucks all of you off his weapon. “You taste so good, Princess.”

You gasp as he jerks your legs apart, fingers digging into your flesh. You’re dripping down your thighs, making it harder for him to keep hold of you. He lowers his head, lapping up your arousal from your thighs. When he finally makes it to where you need him most, he wastes no time. His lips and tongue feasting on you like he’s ravenous. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking harshly as he pulls a forceful orgasm out of you.

He stands, pulling you to the edge of the bed. Bucky is fully inside you with one forceful thrust. You gasp at the delicious stretch. “Fuck.” He whispers, a few loose strands of hair fall from his bun. You have to fight the urge to grab a piece between your fingers.

Bucky’s movements are erratic. He’s like a wild animal. He lifts your leg, placing it over his shoulder, the new angle causes him to hit even deeper. You’re a mess, crying out his name, watching his face as he sets a brutal pace. The heat in your stomach becoming unbearable. You move your hips with him, matching his rhythm. He brings down his vibranium hand, touching over your chest before bringing it to your neck.

He squeezes lightly at first before adding more pressure. Your eyes roll back in your head. This was all too much. The way his big body pressed you against the mattress. The way he was looking at you. The way his vibranium hand was wrapped around your throat. How he fit so perfectly, it was like you were made to take him. You clench around him, causing his movements to falter. He is getting sloppy.

You wrap the leg not on his shoulder around his waist bringing him impossibly closer. You feel him spilling inside you sending you over the edge with him. He removes his hand from your neck, bringing it to your chin forcing you to look at him. “I hate you.” He whispers as he stills inside you. Bucky removes himself and stands between your legs. He gathers the cum dripping out of you with his middle and index fingers, forcing it back inside you. “I hate you too.” You say as your legs tremble from the intensity of it all.

Tags in the comments ❤️

[flowersforbucky]

sweetener

bucky barnes x reader

summary: when the vacation that you've been planning for months gets canceled due to a last minute mission, you can't help but feel bummed - the bright side is that you're being sent on a mission with bucky.

word count: 5.3k - my masterlist

warnings/tags: canon level violence, descriptions of injuries, mention of blood, almost drowning, hospital setting, bad guys getting killed (not descriptive), non-sexual nudity, hurt/comfort trope, avenger!reader, friends to lovers, fluff, language, reader pov, no use of y/n, fem reader, bucky being super soft, not explicit but mdni please

when life deals us cards

make everything taste like it is salt

then you come through like the sweetener you are

to bring the bitter taste to a halt

Hand warmers. Flashlight and extra batteries. Can opener. Matches. First aid kit –

You glance down the handwritten list for the dozenth time that morning, checking and rechecking that you aren't forgetting anything obvious.

Your eyes flicker between the ridiculous amount of supplies scattered across your bed and the three large duffle bags on your floor that you're determined to pack it all into. You know that you are most likely being excessive, but you'd much rather be too thorough than not thorough enough when you're about to be miles deep in the Appalachian wilderness.

Sure, you'd be staying at a relatively civilized campground with restrooms and showers, but this is the first time that you've been camping in years, and your first time ever going camping alone.

A two day road trip there, then six days in the Great Smoky Mountains, and then another two day road trip back to upstate New York.

A much needed ten days of time spent by yourself, seeing as how you haven't gone on anything resembling a vacation in over two years. The last couple years have been nonstop work with very little time for relaxation.

To say that you're excited would be an understatement. Although you find immense fulfillment in the work that you do with the Avengers and can't see yourself doing anything else, you're ready to sit by a warm fire and sleep under the stars without a care in the world.

Just as you've finished packing the second bag and are about to begin on the third, the Bluetooth speaker that your cell phone is paired to begins blasting your ringtone, cutting off the music that you'd been listening to while you pack.

When you grab the phone off of your nightstand and see the name Nick Fury displayed across the screen, a ball of unease immediately forms in the pit of your stomach.

Nick Fury isn't the type to call and chit chat about how your day is going or what shows you've been binge watching. He's the type to call when he wants something done, and wants it done now.

“Hey, Fury,” you greet in a neutral tone as you perch on the edge of your bed. With the phone still connected to your speaker, you place it back down on the nightstand so that you are free to wring your hands together.

“Agent,” Fury's voice booms throughout your room. “I hope I've caught you before you've left the state of New York.”

Godfuckingdammit.

“Uh - yep. I'm still here. Packing up for my trip right now,” you answer, trying your hardest to conceal the irritation in your voice. There's a small voice in the back of your head telling you that you should just lie and say you are already on the road, but you're not stupid enough to lie to Nick Fury.

There's a second, louder voice in the back of your mind screaming at you that you shouldn’t have even answered the phone.

“You know I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I'm going to suggest you pack a tactical suit and weapon of choice instead of hiking boots and a sleeping bag. We just got word that a vibranium weapons dealer we've been tracking will be receiving a large shipment at a port in Destin tomorrow night. Need you and Barnes on a flight to Florida this afternoon.”

“Florida?” you repeat, unable to hide the shock and disappointment in your tone. “I can't go to Florida right now. I've been planning this trip for months. I put in the notice for my leave–”

“I realize that this is unfortunate timing but I'm afraid that this is non-negotiable, Agent,” he interrupts you in a tone of finality. “If we don't intercept this shipment then these weapons fall into very dangerous hands. With Romanoff and Rogers still in San Antonio until next week, I have no choice but to ask you and Barnes to handle it.”

You exhale an audible, frustrated breath and massage the heels of your palms into your eye sockets. You don't know why you're surprised. It's not like illegal arms dealers take your vacation time into consideration when they plot their dealings.

“Is that understood, Agent?” he asks when you don't respond.

“Yes,” you say as you dig your nails into the flesh of your palm to hold back any further argument. “Yes, I understand.”

“Great. The jet leaves in three hours.”

The line cuts off before you can get another word out.

You groan out loud. Three hours. That doesn't even leave you enough time to feel sorry for yourself.

You look around at the chaotic state of your room before your gaze lands on the already packed duffle bags filled with camping supplies.

You're too annoyed and short on time to care right now, so you empty the contents of both bags back onto your bed and tell yourself that you'll deal with the mess when you get back home. For now, you need to focus on packing the appropriate items for taking down a vibranium arms dealer in hotass Florida.

Beneath all of the disappointment and frustration, there's a glimmer of relief that at the very least it's Bucky who you're being sent on this unexpected mission with. You may not be fond of hot weather, but you are quite fond of him.

••••••

Just as Fury said, the jet departs from the compound at exactly three o'clock. You sit in the aircraft's cabin, reading through a thick file containing all of the information that SHIELD has compiled on Dmitri Petrov's crime empire, ranging from drug smuggling to illegal arms deals.

You are only a few pages into the report and it's abundantly clear why this mission was non-negotiable. Petrov has been getting away unscatched for years - tomorrow night will be the first clear opportunity for a take down since getting on SHIELD's radar.

“Coffee?” A voice snaps you back to reality, making you realize that you're reading the same sentence for the dozenth time. “Three creams, two sugars.”

You look up to find a vibranium hand holding out a disposable cup to you. If the fact that he's committed the way you take your coffee to memory isn't enough to increase your heart rate, his smirk and the crinkles around his blue eyes do the trick.

“Thank you,” you tell him, snapping the folder shut on the table in front of you. “My eyes are on the verge of bleeding.” You take a sip of the coffee - indeed, three creams and two sugars.

He takes the seat directly across from you, spinning the folder around for him to flip through himself.

“We land in less than half an hour and you've been reading this the entire flight,” he says teasingly as he thumbs through the pages. “I think it's safe to say you're prepared.”

“Just trying to get myself in the right headspace. I didn't know anything about this operation until a few hours ago, you know.”

Not one to complain, you had yet to bring up the fact that your trip had been postponed in order for you to be here. You had talked about the trip on several occasions with Bucky, but you didn't expect him to remember the exact dates that you were supposed to be gone.

Sure - if he was going to be away for over a week, you'd be hyper aware of it until he returned - but you weren't naive enough to think that he would know the exact dates of your comings and goings.

He places the file back down, returning his attention to you.

“I know,” he sighs, a sympathetic look on his face. “I was on my way to tell you to have a good trip and to be safe when I got the call from Fury this morning.”

Oh. Your cheeks heat at the casual admission from him.

“I'm sorry about your trip. I know you were really looking forward to it,” he adds sincerely. “I'm going to find extra enjoyment in putting Dmitri Petrov behind bars for causing it to get canceled.”

“You and me both,” you chuckle. “Really though, it's okay. I was bummed, but it's not the end of the world. It can easily be rescheduled once this guy is locked up and we're back home.”

You don't add the fact that you find yourself caring less and less about the canceled trip the longer that you sit here with him.

“There is at least one silver lining to this, you know,” he chimes, leaning forward with his elbows on the table between you. You instinctively lean in closer too, causing the side of your leg to brush against his beneath the table. You wait to see if he'll pull away, and when he doesn't, you leave the side of your thigh resting against his.

“Oh, yeah? And what's that?”

“Petrov’s shipment isn't set to arrive until tomorrow night, and they've sent us down here the day prior. It's not like we have to stay holed up in our hotel room for the next twenty-four hours, right?”

••••••

Bucky's right - there's no sense in locking yourselves inside the hotel room until the time of the weapons deal tomorrow evening, but when you see the hotel room that you'll be spending the next couple nights in, you think you would also be okay with staying inside if you had to.

It's not a five star resort by any means, but in comparison to the dingy roadside motels that you're normally stuck in for missions? This place might as well be a Four Seasons.

It's relatively small, but there's more than enough space for the two of you. There's one full size bed, plus a couch that converts to a futon mattress - the latter of which Bucky insists on taking, giving you the bed. The bathroom is nearly as big as the main room, with a jacuzzi tub that's bigger than three standard bathtubs put together.

And the best part of it? When you open the curtains to the sliding glass door on the backside of the room, there's a clear view of turquoise water and white sand.

“I guess Fury felt a little bad about springing this on me at the last minute, after all,” you sigh as you pull the door open, letting the light breeze pull the smell of saltwater into the room. “Can't say that I’ve been given a beachfront room for a mission before.”

Bucky walks up to stand beside you, leaning against the doorframe and staring out to the ocean.

“It's definitely a step up from the rat and roach infested Motel 6 that Sam and I had to spend three nights in when we were sent to Atlanta for recon last month.”

You shake your head, both cringing and laughing at the memory of him ranting about the motel room as soon as he saw you after returning home.

“It was the size of a fucking capybara. Why are you laughing? I opened the bathroom door and it charged at me–”

A sudden deep rumbling noise snaps you out of the memory and you glance down at your stomach in surprise. You suppose it makes sense that your body is screaming at you to eat - you had such little time to pack for Destin before your flight left that you hadn't even bothered with lunch today.

“How does pizza sound?” Bucky asks with a knowing smirk. “I saw a pizza place just down the street on the way here.”

“Anything sounds good right now,” you sigh, both starving and exhausted from your day of packing, unpacking, re-packing and traveling.

“I'll go grab one for us,” he tells you, pulling the keys to the rental car out of his pocket. “Just stay here and get settled in.”

You don't object, itching to change into comfier, more weather appropriate clothes. When you left the state of New York just a few hours ago, it was chilly outside. Now that you are in eighty plus degree Destin, the sweater and boots that you're wearing have got to go.

You unpack your bag, thankful that you had brought a pair of casual drawstring shorts. You throw them on, along with a tank top. You decide to go ahead and convert the futon from a sofa into a bed, and then search through the hotel room's small linen closet for a set of sheets and a quilt. If Bucky insists on you taking the comfier sleeping option and going to get food for the two of you, you figure the least you can do is make his bed for him.

When he returns, he not only has a large cardboard box containing the pizza, but a plastic bag hanging from his vibranium arm as well.

“Grab a towel and follow me,” he tells you before he's even closed the door behind him.

“Follow you?” You laugh, taken aback by the instructions. “Where are we going?”

You hop up from where you'd been mindlessly scrolling on your phone on the bed, doing as he asked and grabbing one of the complementary beach towels from the bathroom closet.

“Not staying holed up in our hotel room. Remember?”

And with that he pulls the sliding glass door open with his empty hand and exits the room, heading towards the beach that sits directly in the backyard. You don't even take the time to throw on a pair of tennis shoes before practically running after him through the sand.

He comes to a stop when he's a few yards away from where the waves wash up against shore and turns back to look at you. You take it as your cue to spread the towel across the sand at your feet.

He sits down and you follow, the cardboard box nestled between you. He opens it, revealing a pizza that is split down the middle - half your favorite, half his favorite.

“I know it's not a campfire in the Great Smoky Mountains,” he smirks. He digs into the plastic bag and pulls out a drink for each of you, along with some napkins. “But it's the best I could do in our current situation.”

The sentiment leaves you momentarily speechless. You know it isn't a grand declaration of love, and it might not mean as much to some people as it does to you - but you can't remember the last time someone went out of their way just to improve your day in such a simple yet thoughtful way.

Between the pizza, the vibrant pink and purple sky as the sun sinks beyond the ocean's horizon, the sound of the waves and him beside you, you wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now.

“No,” you murmur. “It's not. But it's perfect.”

••••••

The next day, you manage to forget that you're actually on a super important mission taking down a dangerous illegal arms dealer.

The first half of the day feels like an actual vacation - the closest thing you've had to a vacation in a long time, anyway. You sleep in until nearly ten o'clock in the morning - which may not be considered sleeping in for some people, but in this line of work, you've overslept if you're still in bed at eight am.

After waking up thoroughly rested and refreshed, the two of you get brunch and then spend the early hours of the afternoon leisurely strolling at the boardwalk just a short drive from your hotel.

You and Bucky are sitting on a bench eating ice cream when you check your phone for the first time in hours and realize how quickly the day has gone. It's already four o'clock - you're due to be on lookout at the pier where Petrov's exchange will occur soon.

“What's wrong?” Bucky asks when you huff under your breath as you stick your phone back into your pocket. “Nervous about tonight?”

You're not nervous, truthfully. You're fully confident that you and Bucky will be able to handle the job. You've been on countless missions less straight forward than this before, and so has he.

“No,” you shake your head as you take another bite of your ice cream cone. “It's… silly,” you say, waving your hand in dismissal.

“I'm sure it's not silly,” he assures you gently.

You pause, staring at a couple holding hands in the distance as you contemplate your words.

Bucky seems to follow your gaze.

“Today has just been really nice,” you shrug with a small smile. “I almost don't want to go back home.”

From your peripheral vision, you see his face shift to look at you. You continue to eat your ice cream, pretending that his stare doesn't warm you more than the Florida sun.

“We're on the same page then, doll.”

••••••

A few hours later, a feeder ship pulls up to the pier just after dusk.

“We've got eyes on three men,” you say lowly into your communication device. “They're guarding the pier. No sign of Petrov yet.”

“He'll show,” Fury's voice echoes in your ear. “Keep watch until then. Backup is on standby to take him in.” The comm clicks off before you can respond.

“I know there's a lot riding on this going smoothly,” you grumble as you bring your binoculars back up to your eyes. “But sometimes I think he just really needs to get laid.”

You and Bucky are across the road from the pier, concealed by large shrubs and the darkness of the night sky. You've been sitting here as still and silently as possible for well over an hour, before Petrov's men had even arrived to stand guard at the dock.

You really fucking have to pee.

Headlights begin to approach from down the street, and as the vehicle gets closer you're able to see that it's a large, black van.

Totally not suspicious at all.

It comes to a stop close to the boat dock, and a second later Petrov hops out of the driver's seat. You recognize him right away by his shrimpy build and receding hairline.

“I should just take them all out from here and be done with this,” Bucky grumbles from beside you.

“I agree,” you sigh. “But Fury's adamant that Petrov be brought in alive if possible. He’s got an empire behind him that we need to find out as much as possible about. His men, however..” you trail off.

Bucky looks through the scope of his gun, zeroing in on one of the guards.

“Blow a tire on the van first,” you murmur. “So Petrov can't flee.”

“I'll take out these three guards, and then I'll get Petrov and call for back-up. You worry about getting to that ship and taking out anyone inside. Sound like a plan?”

“Easy peasy,” you agree.

Less than thirty seconds later, all three guards have dropped dead and Petrov is frantically running to his van, unaware that Bucky had shot the back tire after killing his guards. You and Bucky emerge from the shrubs, sprinting across the road. He dashes towards Petrov, who freezes and begins shouting curses in Russian when he sees what is running towards him.

Bucky lands a punch to Petrov's jaw as you're running past them, only slowing down enough to not trip over the guard’s dead bodies that are littered across the dock.

You're only a few yards away from the ship when you hear Bucky screech your name. You immediately come to a halt, turning back to see why he could be calling for you.

You see a tall, burly man - someone that you and Bucky hadn't noticed before - sprinting down the dock after you. He raises his arm above his head, his hand holding a rocklike object that he sends barreling in your direction.

It's the last thing you see before everything fades to black.

••••••

The shrill, repetitive beeping of a monitor pulls you out of limbo and back to earth.

You're met with painfully bright, fluorescent lighting that has you squinting your eyes shut before you can make sense of your surroundings.

“Bucky,” you attempt to call out but it sounds like the croak of a lifelong smoker. Your eyes begin to adjust to the harsh lighting, allowing you to see that you're alone in a hospital room. You raise your fingertips to where it feels as if your brain is pulsing through your skull. There's a thick, defined knot on the top of your head that's sensitive to the touch.

Panic starts to take over you. Bits and pieces of the mission start to flash through your mind. Bucky shooting the guards, you running towards the feeder ship when you heard Bucky yell your name and then turning to see –

“Bucky!” You call out louder, your voice still hoarse. You sit up, not hesitating to carelessly yank an IV out of your arm. You're vaguely aware of the fact that you're in only a hospital gown and that blood is now trickling down your left arm, but you don't care.

You throw your legs over the side of the bed, standing up far too quickly. Your vision fades to a fuzzy gray and you're overcome with an intense wave of vertigo as the room spins around you. You grab onto the metal side railing of the hospital bed to keep yourself upright, desperately trying to focus your eyes enough to find the nurse's call button.

“Hi! I'll be to your room in just a moment–” An overly cheerful, feminine voice pours from the speaker a moment after pressing the button.

“What happened? How long have I been here? Where is my–”

The door to your room opens, and you immediately breathe an audible sigh of relief as your last question is answered. He looks as though he could use a good night's sleep, but he is okay.

“What the fuck happened?” Bucky exclaims as he rushes over to where you're still clutching the hospital bed railing for support. You follow his gaze to your arm, seeing that there's now blood all over your gown as well as the white floor around your feet.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you mumble, embarrassed by your current state. He guides you back to the edge of the mattress before walking away to get a towel from the bathroom. “I was worried something happened to you,” you add weakly.

He wipes the blood trail on your skin before using the hand towel to apply pressure to the puncture in the bend of your arm.

“I'm okay,” he assures you delicately. “I had just gone to get some coffee.” He glances at the styrofoam to-go cup that you hadn't even noticed him place on the bedside table when he entered the room.

“How long was I asleep?” You ask, noticing that it's still pitch dark outside. You also notice that he's no longer in the clothes that he wore on the mission - now wearing a pair of loose fitting black sweatpants and a matching hoodie. “What happened?”

“There was another guy in the back of Petrov’s van,” Bucky tenses, still holding the towel to your arm for you. “We were both distracted and he snuck up on you. He hit you over the head with a piece of vibranium and threw you into the water.” His jaw clenches as he recounts what happened, meeting your gaze with a pained look.

“But you saved me,” you finish for him.

“Yes,” he gulps. “I did. But I was almost too late. By the time I knocked out Petrov and killed the man who hit you.. it felt like it took forever to find you in the water. You almost drown–”

He cuts himself off, unable to force the last word out. A nurse enters the room as you open your mouth to offer him reassurance. Bucky holds your gaze for a split-second longer before reluctantly dropping his hold on your arm and turning to take a seat in the room's singular guest chair.

The nurse informs you that they did a CT scan while you were unconscious, and that while you don't have any swelling or bleeding on your brain from the blow, the doctor believes you to have a concussion and tells you that she will need to do an exam now that you are awake before they feel comfortable discharging you.

Judging by the high-pitched ringing that you've heard in your ears since you woke up and the way that you feel dizzy when you even think about trying to stand up, you don't doubt that you're concussed.

An hour later, you've been thoroughly examined and it is confirmed that yes - you are indeed concussed. The doctor discharges you under the condition that you don't drive and that someone keeps a close eye on you for the next twenty-four hours.

“Don't worry,” you hear Bucky tell her when you step into the bathroom to throw on a pair of dry sweatpants, a t-shirt, and cheap shower slides that the hospital had given you to wear back to the hotel, seeing as how your tactical suit and boots are still sopping wet with ocean water. “I'm not letting her out of my sight.”

The nurse who helps you dress gives you a small smirk at his words.

“You're a lucky woman,” she tells you quietly. “He was worried sick until you woke up.”

You avoid her gaze, your cheeks heating. You busy yourself by tightening the drawstrings to the gray sweatpants.

“I am lucky,” you agree. “He's a great partner.”

She raises an eyebrow at the word partner, but doesn't make any further comment.

By the time that you and Bucky make it back to your hotel room, the sun has started to rise.

Bucky all but carries you inside, only letting go of you when you're perched on the edge of the mattress. Your head is still throbbing despite the extra strength ibuprofen that you'd taken before leaving the hospital, and you still can't walk without stumbling from dizziness, but at least the intense ringing in your ears has begun to subside.

You feel tired down to your very bones, but you have no doubt that Bucky is even more exhausted. You'd been unconscious for nearly eight hours during the night, whereas he had been awake the entire time sitting by your bedside.

“You get some rest,” you tell him. You brace your hands against the mattress, preparing to attempt to stand back up. “I smell like a mixture of sweat and fish from being in the ocean, so I'm going to shower off.”

You push yourself off of the bed, and as quickly as you stand, you're sitting back down. The room immediately begins spinning in circles around you, sending a wave of nausea through the pit of your stomach.

“Yeah, not likely,” Bucky huffs lightly. “You can't stand up, and the shower doesn't have a seat. How about we compromise on a bath?”

You give a weak nod, too tired to protest. A warm bath sounds incredible right now.

Bucky retreats to the bathroom, where he turns on the water to fill the tub before returning to help you get up from the bed without toppling over. He secures his flesh arm around your waist and guides you to the closed toilet, where you carefully sit down.

“Do you.. need help undressing? Or..?” He asks hesitantly.

“No,” you breathe with an awkward laugh. “I think I've got it.”

He gives you a quick nod, looking away to give you the privacy to shed your clothes. You carefully tug the oversized t-shirt the hospital had given you over your head, wincing when it brushes against the swollen knot on the side of your scalp. You rise off the lid of the toilet just enough to push your sweatpants down to your ankles.

“Okay,” you murmur, letting him know that you're ready to step into the tub.

He grabs one of your hands in his, and places his metal hand on the small of your back as you step over the side of the large jacuzzi tub and into the water.

You're aware of the intimacy of the scenario, but you can't find it in yourself to feel insecure or embarrassed right now - you're sure that's largely due to the concussion, but you think it's also simply because of who you're with.

If it were Sam, or Steve, or anyone else, you know you'd be mortified to be utterly exposed as they help you take a bath. If it were anyone else you wouldn't be taking a bath right now - you would have just gone to sleep and waited until you could fully do it yourself instead of putting yourself in such a vulnerable position.

Not that you don't trust your other teammates. But with Bucky, it doesn't feel vulnerable.

He lowers you into the water, your entire body instantly relaxing at the warmth. You glance to his face, noticing a faint purple bruise along his cheekbone.

“I'm going to leave the door cracked. I'll be right outside if you need anything. Just let me know when you're ready to get out, okay?”

You don't respond, instead reaching up to his face, where you run your finger along the outline of the bruise. He freezes beneath your touch, his eyes meeting yours.

“Don't worry,” he assures you softly. “It was a lot worse when it first happened. It's already almost gone.”

“I'm sorry,” you whisper. “It happened because of me. I wasn't paying attention as well as I should have been. Should have heard that guy coming.”

“Don't say that.” He places his flesh hand on top of where yours still rests against his cheek and then brings it in front of his lips, his eyes never leaving yours. “You're okay, and that's the only thing that matters now.”

“Mmm,” you hum, staring at his lips that are no more than an inch away from your hand.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, his voice patient and curious.

You hesitate for a brief moment before leaning forward and pressing your lips to the bruise in a featherlight kiss. You pull back, once more resting your back against the tub and giving him a small shrug.

“Just thinking that I wanted to do that. Have for a while.”

He grins, a faint blush taking over the apples of his cheeks.

“Yeah, I'd say you're definitely concussed.”

You chuckle, your smile matching his. “I am,” you agree. “But the concussion will go away soon, and I'll still want to kiss you then, too.”

He then presses his lips to the side of your hand, causing goosebumps to form across your skin despite the warm water that you sit in.

“I hope that you will do just that.”

••••••

One month later

You wake up to the smell of campfire smoke that creeps through the crack in the partially zipped tent.

Despite a thick sleeping bag, multiple blankets, and the plush sweater that you wear, you can't help but shiver.

Something is missing.

You look around the tent, your eyes adjusting to the early morning daylight that filters into the tent.

Someone is missing.

You reluctantly exit your cozy sleeping bag, shoving your wool sock covered feet into your boots and crawling out of the tent.

Bucky is facing away from you, cracking an egg into a pan that is positioned over the fire.

“Good morning,” you murmur as you creep up behind him, wrapping an arm around his midsection. He wraps his own arm around your shoulders, pulling you flush against him and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Morning, sleepy head,” he teases softly. “What's on the agenda today?”

“Maybe some hiking, maybe some biking,” you shrug into him. “Maybe a little bit of you keeping me warm in that tent.”

He laughs, more carefree than you've ever seen him before.

“See? It's a good thing that your trip got postponed. What if I wasn't here to keep you warm?”

You raise up to capture his lips in yours, the taste of fresh brewed French press coffee on his breath.

“Remind me to thank Fury for that when we get back.”

thank you so much for reading 💕🫶🏻 comments and reblogs are infinitely appreciated!!

[themculibrary]

Nick Fury Masterlist

part two

5 Times Fury Saw Something On Security He Really Didn't Want To (ao3) - lilsmartass, ramsay_baggins steve/tony, clint/phil, maria/tony G, 1k

Summary: Just as the title describes

A Beautiful Journey (fanfiction.net) - Aragorn II Elessar T, 566k

Summary: Watch-it fic. In 2035, members of the Avengers, X-Men and Fantastic Four bring forth the Avengers, Scott Lang, Hope van Dyne, T'Challa, Nick Fury, Maria Hill, Pepper Potts, Aunt May and Loki from the past to watch the first three phases of the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

Add It Up (ao3) - leftennant darcy/loki, jane/thor, pepper/tony E, 125k

Summary: Loki and Darcy have been dancing around each other ever since they were paired up as a team at S.H.I.E.L.D. by Nick Fury. When they both end up up in his apartment after saving the world, things finally hit the boiling point.

Badass Blues (ao3) - AnonEhouse steve/tony, nick/phil T, 3k

Summary: Nick Fury is a Badass. But he can't help missing the interaction he used to have with the Avengers. They're a team, and he's... you know, not.

Because the Night (ao3) - ladydeathfaerie nick/phil, sam/maria, melinda/victoria, mack/leo M, 9k

Summary: Monsters walk the earth. Some of them are good. And some of them are bad. Nick Fury has dedicated his life to ridding the world of the bad monsters. He and his team of specially trained hunters have dedicated their lives to exterminating the monsters in order to keep humanity safe. But what starts out as a simple hunt turns out to be a trap set up by his old nemesis.

Will Nick and his team finish the hunt or will tragedy strike the family that Nick has made for himself?

Enter Nick Fury (ao3) - Illusinia T, 3k

Summary: When Nick Fury first decides to get involved business wise with the Stark Household.

Hel Hath Nick Fury (ao3) - LadyShadowphyre darcy/nick, thor/jane N/R, 3k

Summary: Thor knows Darcy is more than she seems. So, apparently, does Nick Fury. When it comes to people she cares about Darcy isn't too fussed about having her secrets revealed.

How Nick Fury Saves the World (ao3) - aslipperysloth nick/everyone E, 4k

Summary: Nick Fury keeps the team together with his 'special' kind of support.

Irreconcilable Differences (ao3) - determamfidd bruce/tony E, 133k

Summary: Bruce has been searching for a cure again, but Tony doesn’t think the green guy is a disease. Abruptly, he’s given everything he’s ever wanted, and… well, it seems it’s all more complicated than that.

FEATURING:

Hulk - Amateur Psychology Hour with Tony Stark - Clint as a troll - more Hulk - Bruce as an angry introspective mess - Hulk again - Steve as Team Dad - Nick Fury as Nick Fury - Hulk smash! - Tony as a caped crusader for Hulk Rights - Rules, Rules, Rules - Natasha as the boss of everything - the Experimental Method (by T. Hulk) - Thor as the God of Thunder and Frustration - Tony as the king of the oblivious idiots - Stealth Sass Master Banner …

…and a lot of figuring out who you really are.

And Hulk.

I Want To Know What Love Is (ao3) - Impala_Chick steve/tony G, 5k

Summary: Avengers Academy gets seriously damaged, and Nick Fury is absolutely certain of one thing - someone is going to have to be punished. Being a good spy, he attempts to figure out just what happened first before doling out punishment. It turns out, Steve and Tony have some issues to work out.

Knowledge of Avengers Academy not required to read this (but a couple of the jokes might not make sense).

Nick Fury Cheats at Cards (ao3) - infiniteeight clint/phil G, 2k

Summary: Nick tricks Phil into a date with a friend of his.

Nick Fury doesn't make mistakes (ao3) - gorgeousnerd nick/rhodey E, 2k

Summary: Nick Fury doesn't make mistakes. Even when he goes to Stark Tower with a bottle of whiskey in the middle of the night.

Nick Fury's Bad Day (ao3) - Setcheti pepper/tony T, 2k

Summary: In which Nick Fury only thinks his bad day is getting better.

Operation Snuggle Bear (ao3) - Midorisakura (Calacious) steve/tony, clint/phil G, 2k

Summary: Nothing can get through Nick Fury’s tough, outer exterior, and that’s how he likes it. (Or, where Fury gets his very own snuggle bear, and doesn't kill Stark.)

There but for the Grace of a Cat (ao3) - InTheShadows G, 2k

Summary: When Tony is about to go off to rescue a wizard from a flying donut the last thing he is expecting is Nick Fury of all people to stop him - and then give him a cat to help fight Thanos - and for him to know this cat. He’s half expecting this to be a dream. When did this become his life again? Flying around in a metal suit is one thing, this is something else entirely. Why not though. It’s not as if he has a better plan. Boy does Fury have some explaining to do though. (When is he going to wake up again?)

True Resurrection (ao3) - Vampiric_Ant T, 24k

Summary: A year after the events of "Secret Invasion", Maria Hill mysteriously appears on S.A.B.E.R. Space Station. Only she's not the Maria Hill whom Fury knew.

[byhuenii]

Romcom 101 w/ reluctant super soldiers

Pairing James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes x Reader

Synopsis When Nick Fury assigns you and Bucky Barnes to pose as an engaged couple for a diplomatic infiltration, neither of you expects the charade to stick. But when the team catches wind of your “relationship,” things spiral out of control.

Now, thanks to Sam Wilson’s relentless teasing and Peter Parker’s obsession with 2000s romcoms, Bucky is roped into recreating every iconic love scene—from the rain-soaked kiss in The Notebook to the stadium serenade in 10 Things I Hate About You—all in the name of keeping your cover.

The problem? The line between pretend and real is blurring fast.

And the more Bucky falls for you, the harder it becomes to call it an act.

Notes + Tags faking dating, mutual pinning, found family feels, friends to loves (kinda), angst (kinda), based on 2000s romcoms, slow burn // I just wanted to do a Bucky Barnes x reader recreating the iconic rain scene from The Notebook and then it turned into a full fake dating trope…

- Romcom 101 w/ reluctant super soldiers A Fake engagement. real Connection, And a mission that spirals into a cinematic fever dream.

(THE MASTERLIST)

CHAPTER 0 – “For Optics” → The Setup

Fury assigns you and Bucky to go undercover as a fake engaged couple.

Everyone (especially Sam) loses their mind about it.

You and Bucky start getting way too good at pretending.

CHAPTER 1 – “It Wasn’t Over. It Still Isn’t.” The Notebook

The iconic rain scene. Screaming. Kissing. Confessions that weren’t supposed to be real.

Sam, Peter, Kate, and Yelena absolutely watching through the window.

CHAPTER 2 – “I’m Just a Girl…” Notting Hill

Post-rain kiss chaos. Avengers start to suspect the “fake” might be real.

Reader tries to stay chill. Bucky is spiraling.

One soft, desperate hallway moment that changes everything.

CHAPTER 3 – “Love Ferns and Frostbite” How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days

A mission forces you two into a date night disaster.

Fake bickering turns very real jealousy on Bucky’s part.

You say something you didn’t mean to. He hears everything.

CHAPTER 4 – “You Jump, I Jump” Titanic (ft. Sam Wilson as Rose)

Sam forces Bucky to do the Titanic pose with him just to annoy him.

Bucky actually does it... but only to make you laugh.

Later that night? You recreate it with him—for real. And it gets spicy.

CHAPTER 5 – “You Don’t Even See Me” 10 Things I Hate About You

Bucky serenades you during a stakeout.

Peter sets it up. Yelena films it.

You nearly cry. Bucky is red for an hour.

CHAPTER 6 – “Princess Diaries: Foot Popping” The Princess Diaries

First “real” kiss under cover. Soft and slow and dizzying.

“Did your foot pop?”

“Shut up, Sam.”

CHAPTER 7 – “13 Going on 30” Childhood feelings resurface

Bucky finds a photo of you two from before the mission.

Something in him snaps in the best way.

CHAPTER 8 – “She’s All That” Transformation, my ass

You clean up for a mission gala. Bucky is destroyed.

He thought you were beautiful before. Now? He’s not breathing.

CHAPTER 9 – “The Proposal” Accidental strip scene + forced marriage trope

Sam signs you up for a relationship interview with SHIELD HR.

Shirtless Bucky. One bed. “We had to make it convincing.”

CHAPTER 10 – “To Me, You Are Perfect” Love Actually Confession Scene

Bucky shows up at your door with cue cards.

Every single one of them ruins you.

Bucky finally says it: “I don’t want to fake it anymore.”

(Tags) @bbsbrina @captainannatheweirdo

[braveclementine]

Avengers Colour Soulmate AU: Book 2 Masterlist

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Epilogue

[orellazalonia]

Chaos Counseling

Summary: You accidentally becomes the Avengers' unofficial therapist, delivering unhinged wisdom that changes lives whether they like it or not. (Bucky Barnes x chaotic!reader)

Word Count: 1k+

A/N: As a psychology major, I do not condone the advice or techniques reader uses for a professional setting (lol). It’s all for speculative fun. Happy reading!

Main Masterlist | Earth’s Mightiest Headache Masterlist

It started because you caught Peter Parker crying in the hallway and handed him a Capri Sun.

Partially because of a real desire to help, but mostly because you just had one in your pocket. Peter took it like it was a lifeline. He sniffled then muttered, “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m like this.”

You blinked, leaned in, and whispered solemnly, “Crying is just eye vomiting. You gotta get it out or your soul gets constipated.”

Peter stopped crying. Not because he felt better, but because he had no idea what to do with that sentence.

He went silent for ten seconds, wiped his eyes, and hesitantly said, “That’s… actually helpful?”

“Yeah,” You stabbed another Capri Sun with aggressive force. “I’m basically Freud if he was raised by raccoons and Disney Channel.”

And just like that, you became the Compound’s Emotional Support Cryptid.

By the time Bucky found out three days later, you’d already “accidentally therapized” Peter, Clint, Sam, and most surprisingly Wanda, who now referred to you as her “mind gremlin of peace.”

He entered the rec room to find Sam staring blankly at the wall, murmuring, “I am not my productivity.”

“…What the hell did you do to him?” Bucky asked.

You were upside down on the couch, feet in the air while eating an apple with a spoon.

“I told him hustle culture is a capitalist trap designed to keep us from achieving true inner joy. Also that pigeons are government spies. One of those hit him real hard.”

Bucky stared. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

You shrugged. “No. But apparently my unmedicated inner monologue is therapeutic.”

The final straw (or blessing, depending who you ask) was Tony Stark’s meltdown. He’d been spiraling in the lab for days now with low sleep, bad attitude, and a full ego. The standard stuff. You wandered in eating popcorn with chopsticks and sat on his table, pushing one of his gadgets aside with your foot.

“You need to feel your feelings, Tony.”

He didn’t even look up. “I built a suit of armor to avoid that exact thing.”

“Cool,” You said, chewing. “But now your trauma is building you a suit of armor. And it’s ugly.”

Tony froze, slowly turning to you. “That… was either the dumbest or most brilliant thing I’ve ever heard.”

You offered him a bag of marshmallows and patted his cheek. “Let’s call it both and have a cry.”

He did.

-

You weren’t trained, of course. And you didn’t plan to become the Avengers’ emotional crutch. But one by one, they came to you.

Natasha sat beside you and confessed she sometimes felt like a ghost. You told her ghosts are just trauma that didn’t pay rent.

Wanda asked how to cope with her past. You said to build a new house out of grief and invite joy over for tea.

Steve admitted once he was tired of being the symbol of hope. You handed him a juice box and told him it’s okay to be a tired little guy sometimes.

Every time, Bucky watched from the sidelines, equal parts baffled and smitten.

“You’re not qualified for this,” He muttered one night, watching Clint sob out of the room from something profoundly dumb you said while you knitted a scarf out of yarn you had found in the vents.

You just smiled at Bucky, eyes soft. “Nope. But neither is life, and I’m still doing that too.”

He pulled you in by the waist, kissed your forehead, and muttered, “God, I love you.”

“Obviously,” You said, already distracted. “Anyway, pass me that bowl. I’m about to emotionally dismantle Loki.”

-

Nick Fury tried to fire you. Twice. He wanted to submit a formal request to “hire an actual mental health professional.” He was denied.

The first time, you responded by sending him a PowerPoint titled “Why I Am Vital to Team Morale: A Threat and a Promise,” which included hand-drawn pie charts, quotes you definitely made up from Plato and Beyoncé, and a photo of a possum in a teacup labeled “Emotional Support Rodent (not metaphorical).”

The second time, he walked into the compound and found all the Avengers crowded in your room. Thor was wrapped in a blanket you made him (“my thunder cocoon”), Wanda asleep against your shoulder, Sam and Clint mid-debate over which Pokémon best represents childhood abandonment, and Bucky sprawled on your bed, fast asleep with your hand in his hair and a peaceful look on his face like he hadn’t had in years.

Fury stood silently in the doorway for a full ten seconds, then turned around and walked out.

No one’s heard from him since.

A few nights later, you and Bucky were curled up on the couch. You were using him as a weighted blanket while reading a quantum physics book upside-down and occasionally arguing with the toaster nearby (which you'd programmed to “vibe check” everyone who used it).

He was half-asleep, running his thumb over your shoulder, when he murmured, “You know they’d fall apart without you, right?”

You snorted. “They’d be fine. Steve can tie a tie and Sam knows how to keep plants alive. That’s practically domestic stability.”

“No,” He said, voice low and eyes steady. “You help them in the best way. You say the things no one expects but everyone needs. You make the weird stuff feel normal. You make me feel normal.”

You blinked, heart flipping slightly sideways in your chest.

Then you smirked. “You just like me because I told Thor his emotional baggage could crush Mjölnir.”

Bucky laughed, the low, warm kind that curled in your ribs and stayed there. “Maybe. And because you somehow gave Loki a complex about not recycling.”

You shifted to give him a quick kiss before whispering, “You love me.”

“I do.”

You rested your head against his chest with a content hum. “Good. Now help me convince Tony to install a therapy ball pit. For, like, emotional regulation purposes.”

He sighed. “God help me, I’ll do it.”

And he would. Because somehow, against all logic, you made chaos feel like home.

[widowmaxff]

i love your wandanat mom fics sm!! 😭

i was wondering if you could write something w them and a reader that has wandas powers and r is on a mission with someone else (maybe kate or yelena or both 👀) and r has to use their her powers to save them but she winds up passing out from overexerting her powers

and if you do choose yelena could you make her and natasha sisters thank you!!!

lose your power

(daughter!reader × moms!wandanat & fem!reader × bishova)

warnings: all platonic, violence

a/n: okay, this request has been in my inbox for probably over a year, almost two - like all the others - but tysm!!! <3 and i promise i'll get back to writing (or not)

-> my masterlist

“No! Absolutely not!” Natasha was the first to speak after Nick Fury told the details of the mission in which you, Kate Bishop and Yelena Belova, your aunt, were summoned. You didn’t know how in the end your mother let you despite her great arguments - it was your first mission and you had just turned 18, Kate is a child, even if she is 23, and Yelena wouldn’t be able to handle the two of you. Even so, you knew that there was no way anything could go wrong. You had the same powers as your other mother, Wanda, she taught you how to use them perfectly and trained you every day so that nothing would go wrong.

Your mother didn't have a good childhood, no one protected her from the horrible things that were done to her. So, she always did the opposite with you, she protected you from everything that could go wrong. But, when the frustrated sigh left Natasha's mouth, you celebrated knowing that she had finally let you accompany them on the mission. You knew why she was so defensive about you not going. Natasha was always very protective of you, so any situation that put you, even the slightest bit, in danger areas, she would do everything to make you feel comfortable.

A few minutes before you, your aunt and Kate got into the Quinjet to finally leave for the mission, your mother Natasha was talking seriously to Yelena. You weren't listening, but you knew she was telling your aunt to protect you at all costs, not to leave you alone for too long in those dark and cold rooms, and to definitely bring you back in one piece.

Unlike Natasha, Wanda seemed too excited about your first mission. "I'm so, so proud of you!" She left several kisses on your head while speaking words of love to you. "Everything ready, Darling?"

“Mhm, we just have to wait for Mom to stop talking to Auntie Yel about protecting me.” Your Mama chuckles, stroking your hair behind your ear. She leaves one more kiss on your head before turning to Natasha and giving her a ‘they need to go’ look.

[...]

“Okay, so it’s a simple mission, we’ll be able to complete it easily. There will probably be some Hydra agents but we’ll be able to take them all down,” Yelena says as she puts some bullets from her gun into the pockets of her vest. You nod during her speech, feeling bubbles of emotion coming out of you, shaking a little.

“This is the first time I’ve heard you give that positivity speech, Yelena.” Kate murmurs beside you as the three of you wait at the exit of the Quinjet in front of the almost abandoned Hydra building. You chuckle softly when you hear the irritated sigh coming from your aunt, it seemed like the two of them would never stop pecking at each other.

“First of all, I’m doing this because my niece is here and she’s almost bursting with nerves.” Yelena points a finger in front of Kate, who quickly lowers her head. “Second of all, shut up, Kate Bishop.” You laugh quickly before being startled by the sound of the large door opening.

Your aunt sends you a comforting smile, quickly ordering you and Kate to follow her. “Everyone remembers where to go, right?” You and the dark-haired girl nod, your hands getting wetter with sweat. “Are you sure you’ll be okay by yourself?” Yelena turns to you, a soft, caring look on her face.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Your footsteps were the loudest thing in that room at the base. You walked calmly and always paying attention, just like you had learned in your training. The three of you were looking for some necessary files that Nick Fury had asked for. You were working in the part of the base where it would probably be the calmest, according to him, but even so you felt your emotions on your skin, almost afraid of what could happen from now on. Your aunt checked to see if everything was okay with you and Kate every five minutes. Despite not being considered the most affectionate person in the world, Yelena would take a bullet for you.

“Shit, I hear voices.” Kate mutters to the two of you on the coms, making you stop quickly in place. Despite being far from the two of them, your breathing became heavier and your ears alert. “There are like a million of them here.”

Yelena mutters something to herself, probably a curse, you thought. “Don’t move and don’t make any noise, Kate.” Belova commands as you can hear her deep, heavy footsteps through the devices in your ears, indicating that your aunt was coming to Bishop’s side to help her. “Beep me on your location, Bishop.”

”I’m coming to help too,” You mutter quickly into the coms, trying to get your breathing and heart rate back to a regular rhythm. You get back on your feet before you even finish speaking, locating Kate’s position and preparing yourself for the amount of Hydra agents that would be there.

“Stay exactly where you are, Y/n.” Yelena’s voice was almost muffled, heavy. “Don’t even think about coming near here, Kate and I will take care of this.”

No, you couldn’t let the two of them fight hand-to-hand combat with all those Hydra agents Kate had described. Even though your aunt and Bishop had much more experience than you, knowing exactly what to do, you were still afraid. And even though you trusted them completely, you knew you couldn’t let them go alone. Your powers would easily help you take down all those agents, but with Yelena’s protection, she would never let you get close to danger.

“Okay…” You obviously lied, walking towards the chaos that was about to begin.

You could still hear Yelena and Kate talking through the coms, drawing up a plan against all those Hydra agents. Your steps were soft and calculated, almost as if you were mentally training to recharge all your magic and your training that had been calculated during the last year. You felt the red power bubbling in your fingers and in your blood, ready to be used at any cost against the enemies present in that building. At that moment, you remembered your mother Wanda. She was probably trying to distract Natasha, who was probably freaking out waiting for your arrival.

“Yelena! I need help!” Your thoughts are interrupted by Kate’s screams in your ears. You can hear grunts and gunshots, probably from Yelena, making you run even faster.

When you arrived at the scene, some of the Hydra agents were dead, but, as Kate said, there were like a million of them there. You could glimpse the purple of Bishop’s uniform and your aunt’s blonde hair, hearing the grunts and gunshots from both them and the agents there. Your mind was racing and you could feel the heat of your power in your veins, insisting that you do something, even if it went against Yelena’s wishes.

You closed your eyes tightly and began to concentrate, trying to leave the sounds of death and violence behind, almost in silence. All the training you had received in the last few years came to your mind, remembering the words and steps your mothers had taught you, especially Wanda. Your fingers began to tingle with red magic, your head ached and your breathing became heavy. You raised your hands towards the Hydra agents, feeling your vision grow blurry and your legs failing. You threw your arms abruptly down, howling and your throat hurting as all the enemies fell lifeless to the ground.

The black dots in your vision began to grow larger, your feet began to fail and your red magic began to disappear from the place. The last thing you saw was your aunt Yelena running to your side, although you could see blood on both her and Kate, you were unable to recover and before falling unconscious to the ground, you felt your eyes roll up into your head and exhaustion finally overcame you.

[...]

When you open your eyes, you are startled to no longer be in the dirty and almost abandoned building. Your hands begin to hurt in the same place where your magic dissipated, spreading throughout the bodies of those agents. Your head throbbed to the point where it felt like it would explode at any moment, making you start to breathe deeply as you felt the cold air of that place, as if somehow that would help you.

The hospital room in the Compound was silent. Only the sound of your heartbeat could be heard. You make a little effort to sit up on the stretcher, placing your hands on your chest to try to ease the pain, which, even though it didn't seem to have been affected, was hurting somehow. Looking around, you see a small vase of flowers next to the bed, a chair with an unfinished book on top, and normal things that would probably be in a hospital room.

The sound of your room door opening makes you automatically turn your head to it. Your eyes were still a little blurry, making you see your mother Natasha's red hair as if you needed glasses. "Y/n?" She immediately runs towards you, placing the back of her hand on your forehead, then on your cheeks. "How do you feel, darling?"

"M'kay, Mom..." Your head follows your mother's hand, receiving her affection. "Where's Mama?" Your mother sighs, using her thumb to caress your face.

"She's been here all night, awake. I told her to take a shower and get something to eat, she'll be here in a bit." Natasha leaves a kiss on your head, taking her other hand to your hair, placing a strand behind your ear.

Now that your mother was closer to you, you could see the deep, dark circles under her eyes, the reddish hue of her hair, making you realize that your mother Wanda wasn't the only one who stayed up all night by your side. "I'm gonna get Dr. Cho, okay?" You nodded, almost going unnoticed by Natasha.

The doctor asked you questions: how you were feeling, if you remembered everything that happened. You managed to answer everything, even though you were still a little groggy, but your mother Natasha was by your side holding your hand for support. It didn't take long for the questionnaire to end and a few moments later your mother Wanda entered the hospital room.

“Oh, love.” You felt her arms around you before you even realized she was there. You could feel Wanda’s fast heartbeat, her quickened breathing on the back of your neck and the strong scent of her sweet perfume. “You’re okay…” She murmurs, more to herself than to you.

“I am, Mama. I told you I could do it.” Wanda chuckles, finally looking you in the eyes, which now had large bags of dark circles underneath.

“You’re really brave, you know that?” Her voice was soft, placing one of her hands on your cheek, caressing them, just like Natasha earlier. “Kate told me there were a lot of them.

“I learned from the best.”

“What about me?” You both didn’t even see Natasha coming through the door of the room, she was carrying a tray with some food that was definitely better than the ones in the hospital.

You laugh at the question before answering: “I learned from you too, Mom.” She places the tray in front of you, soon sitting next to you on the hospital bed. “How's Auntie Yelena and Katie?” Your voice gets a little lower with the question, almost whispering.

“They’re fine, Sweetheart,” Natasha answers, sensing your concern. When she found out what happened to you, she was angry, very angry with Yelena. But after checking on the two of them, she realized that if it weren’t for you, they would probably both be dead by now. “You really are a hero.” Your cheeks turn pink and a small laugh leaves your mouth.

“Natasha is right,” Wanda adds, leaving a kiss on your head. “We love you so much, forever, no matter what happens.” You look at your mothers with sparkles in your eyes and a huge smile on your face.

“I love you too, always.”

[sumplys]

black beauty (part one) — j. barnes

You said if you could have it your way, you’d make it nighttime all day.

warnings: black widow au, awkward timeline (takes place after captain america: civil war), female reader, soft sub bucky, slowburn(ish). [1k words]

notes: first fic back—also my first series in years! there is a lot of plot here—it’s going to be delving deeper into the trauma of the characters in this chapter (but don’t worry, you’ll get your juicy stuff later). please send love if you enjoy! i’m looking forward to constructive criticism on the pacing & plot! love u xx.

main masterlist | series masterlist

Sequential gunshots rang out, three bullet holes indenting themselves into the soft cardboard targets.

“Again,” Madame B said. “Five now—as we practiced.”

You brought your thick centerfire pistol up towards your target, shooting once and hitting the bullseye. You took a second to breathe, lowering your gun–just a millimeter. Without a skilled eye, it wouldn’t look like much–maybe a flinch, or a shifting of weight–but Madame B nodded in approval, her hands clasped behind her back.

The shell casings clattered to the linoleum floor, with the next four bullets flying through the gaping space your first bullet had left.

Your hands lowered, the muzzle of your gun reflecting on the polished floor.

“Again.”

Your pistol rose, a methodical, perfectly rehearsed habit–then your eyes opened as the gunshots sounded–abruptly ending your nightmare.

“Are you cold, Agent?” Nick Fury asked, his voice echoing from a dark shadow. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine.”

You brushed off the memory, bringing a cool glass of water to meet your lips, but you knew Fury hadn’t attributed your shivering to the temperature.

“Are you up for an assignment?”

Following a task that resulted in the accidental deaths of over four-thousand Polish war prisoners, you defected from General Dreykov and the Red Room organisation. With hardly a week of freedom, S.H.I.E.L.D. detained you.

The organization–in order to pardon you for your crimes–had to promise the government around-the-clock surveillance and court mandated therapy. You complied, obviously, but your new life wasn’t without its flaws.

You were kept in a glass cage, bulletproof—for your safety, but with no internal guns—not your preference.

Being perpetually observed wasn’t for the weak, and it was especially not for the paranoid, but that’s just what happens when you’re branded as a “national security threat.”

Nonetheless, you were desperate to be rid of the torturous rhythm you had found amongst S.H.I.E.L.D.’s bustling staff.

“Yes, sir,” you replied, weary of the responsibility, but you knew it could prompt S.H.I.E.L.D. to trust you.

“Good. What do we need to get ready for you?”

“A Tokarev, sir, and a Korth revolver.”

“Old-fashioned,” Fury mused.

“And expensive,” you finished.

He stood from his chair, and the motion-sensored lights flickered on, “No bother, agent. Be ready to leave in twenty minutes. I’ll brief you on the flight.”

—

Jazz music ran over your body in waves as it hummed out of the overhead speakers.

Rond de jambe, pas de bourrée, pirouette, and fouette: movements as familiar to you as the click of a trigger. The urge to line up in your formation and succumb to the melody was nearly enough to make you pass out again. Old habits die hard, I guess.

The pill Fury slipped into your drink began to wear off, and you awoke to the smell of chemical cleaner and what seemed like pine scented car air-freshener. It was the same smell you had gotten used to on the long flight to the United States: Fury’s private jet.

You felt yourself getting irritated at the thought of Nick Fury once more–as if it wasn’t enough to imprison you, he had to drug you too. At the very least, the heavy medication kept the nightmares away.

As you blinked profusely, your eyes caught the passenger sitting across from you. Eyes a brooding blue gazed up to look back at you, and you immediately recognized the face.

He was a ghost story amongst Russians–a tale the government promoted but would never prove.

His accomplishments were deadly. Over 60 credited assassinations and nearly 230 casualties. No witnesses was his one rule, and here you were.

His dress shirt was tight against his chest, and his metal arm made a gentle whirring noise as his fingers twitched involuntarily. His hair was cut, and he looked different from the photos you recognized him from. His eyes were narrow, guarded, as he assessed your potential threat.

“You need trouble breathing, agent?” Natasha teased from beside you. “You can reach out and touch him if you want–to check if he’s real.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, still groggy.

The man’s face didn’t change. Still stoic–still staring.

The Winter Soldier.

His name was attributed to his preservation in the Arctic, you had always presumed, but now you couldn’t help but think that maybe it came from his gaze–cold and icy.

You knew that you would most likely be physically competent if you were to oppose him, but there was a look in his eyes—something that told you that he could end you without a single coherent thought entering his mind.

“Nice to meet you.”

His tone was flat, but he forced a corner of his lips to turn up into a smile.

“Nice to meet you too, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Your eyes lingered on him momentarily before you were forced to look away.

His eyes were so intense, as cliche as it sounded, as if you could feel yourself losing your own way in them. His glances were not lingering, nor relenting, as he continued to bore down on your soul. A staring problem, it seemed.

“Do you really have to put her down every time we fly?” Natasha asked. “I mean, I just don’t understand.”

“She’s quite the escape artist,” Fury mused. “She doesn’t seem to love the safe house.”

Barnes’ eyes narrowed at this–he scanned you over again, face softening with infinitesimal amusement.

“The cage,” you corrected.

“The safehouse, and it’s just temporary—until people know you won’t be trying anything on your own.”

“She’ll be good,” Natasha said, doing a better job at reassuring herself rather than reassuring Fury. “She was always the best of us all.”

Your expression didn’t change. That was a lie, and you all knew it. You were sure Fury had the classified rankings of each Red Room pupil, your own name falling–assumedly–much lower than Natasha Romanoff’s.

“Show her what we’re dealing with, Nat.”

As Natasha pressed the case file into your lap, you felt the unexpected indent of a gun on your thigh.

You slid your hand up your own leg to brush your fingers along a thigh holster, and you detached a TT-30 gun from your lap.

You turned it over in your hand, running your knuckles along the indents on the grip. It was the perfect weight in your hands, and your brain hummed, reaching an ecstatic high.

Palming a gun was probably the safest feeling you could remember–similar to how you imagined regular people felt about coming home for the holidays. A sweet mother’s perfume, the low murmur of a dad’s voice, the scuffling of a family dog–that feeling of familiarity was only achievable for you with a Soviet-made semi-automatic in your hands.

“H.Y.D.R.A. wants their files back; Mission reports from Barnes’ time as the Winter Soldier,” Natasha said. “Intelligence tells us that they’re already looking to fill the void he left behind.”

“Like a new super soldier?”

“They have other soldiers,” Fury said. “Just none as efficient as him.”

Russia wanted to assess what they had done correctly with Barnes. What worked, what didn’t–whether it was her personality before the serum, or his physical strength. They needed S.H.I.E.L.D.’s knowledge to get that information.

“I’ll go into SVR headquarters in Moscow tomorrow night to assess what they have so far. You and Barnes will go to the Victory Day gala–see if you recognize anyone.”

“Why would I recognize anyone?” you asked.

Going back to Russia wasn’t the most ideal scenario, let alone infiltrating a high-profile government-hosted fete. You expected to see some familiar faces, but whether it was H.Y.D.R.A. or Red Room employees would determine your level of complicity in the matter.

“Not you–Barnes.”

“Why am I involved then? It’s not like he needs my help to recognize his handlers.”

He tensed at the words, his fingers stiffening with a muted clank.

Sensitive. Apparently being the Winter Soldier didn’t teach him to keep his emotions to himself.

“Natasha seems to think you have a certain knack for consoling the… how do I put this… perturbed.”

You squinted at her, blinking recurrently.

Fury continued, “Dear Bucky here has been struggling with the assimilation to civilian life. Nat believes you can help him with that.”

You snorted, “I’m hardly a civilian myself.”

“You always had this fervent empathy–even in the Rooms. You could talk any of the girls down.”

“Convincing a thirteen year-old girl that the world isn’t ending tomorrow is so much different than consoling a grown man–let alone a grown man confronted by his captors.”

“It’s necessary,” Fury asserted. “This is low profile. No bodies, no hysterics.”

“Okay, but we don’t have to talk about him like he’s not here,” you hissed.

“Yeah, right–sorry James,” Natasha said. “But you’ll do it?”

“It’s not like I have much of a choice.”

“Great, fantastic.”

“It will be pleasurable working with you, ma’am,” Barnes remarked, reaching out his metal hand for you to shake.

You dropped your gun, slipping your left hand between your thighs to meet your holster, as you reached to meet his brisk palm.

His eyes dropped, gaze following your gun going up your dress.

A really bad staring problem.

[ceoofyearning]

I only pray, don’t fall away from me

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: The world feels like it’s falling apart around you, but Azriel finally comes home and helps you hold all the pieces together.

Tags/Warnings: Hurt and Comfort, depressive themes & thoughts, anxiety, nightmares, mentions of a minor character death (not the mc/reader) || please mind the tags.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: this week was though so here’s a bit of a hurt & comfort fic; hope your days are kind to you guys xoxo

Links: Fic Masterlist | My Art

You’re so damn tired.

The last few weeks have been difficult, to say the least. The healing house has been filled to the brim with the wounded and sick. Altercations with Beron’s soldiers by the border have been increasing at an alarming rate, while countless spies from the continent have been winnowed in after being caught by Koschei’s contingent forces. You can’t even begin to imagine the state of the civilians that might’ve been caught in the crossfire. 

There is tension in the air with the threat of the inevitable war looming on the horizon. It doesn’t help that the winter chill, in all of its foreboding fury, has come to ravage the lands and its people. You love your work as a healer, you really do. Some days, the thought of the good you do, the people you help, is enough to keep you going. But too often, it feels like a thankless job that leaves you drained to the core. 

In your free time, you’ve been parsing through ancient texts in search of information on Death Gods and anything that could be used against Koschei. His looming threat is a cloud of dread that hangs over everyone, especially Rhys. The least you could do is to help carry the burden. It’s not like you could sleep, anyway. These days it is as though your mind adamantly refuses to let you rest. At the very least, the task keeps you distracted when you’re stuck alone in your apartment. 

Ever since Azriel had been sent to the continent for a reconnaissance mission nearly a month ago, the apartment you share has started to feel a little too big, too desolate. Before you knew it, the white walls had been transmuted from your home into what felt like the bars of a cage. 

The two of you haven't been apart for so long since the mating bond snapped. You didn’t think you'd feel his absence as acutely as you did, but it felt like the loss of a limb where the wound refused to heal and you were already bleeding out. His part of the bond is blacked out completely, a devouring void where Azriel’s comforting presence should have been. It’s for your own safety, he said. But you can’t help it. You’re plagued with worry, with imagined hurts and tragedies, amplifying the brewing conflict in your mind. 

It is easier to catch yourself when Azriel is near. When the thoughts begin to swirl like a hurricane around you - winds whipping, oceans rising - it feels like Azriel’s arms are the only safe harbor you can rely on. But Azriel isn’t here now. 

What frustrates you most is that you’ve been better recently. You’ve been good. You ate your meals, slept reasonably, even had a goddamned routine set up. You guzzled down your tonics in hopes of smoothing out the edges of your frayed mind, that perhaps it could lend you some semblance of normalcy. But no. Weeks of being haunted by nightmares, of overextending yourself, of loss and suffering seeping under your skin day by day have taken its toll. 

You are just too damn tired. 

A child died, barely over thirteen years old. She was bastard-born, which meant she had nothing to her name other than the rags on her back and her birthright to suffer generational oppression and cruelty. This is the worst winter the Night Court has had in centuries, and she didn’t even have a decent roof over her head. Needless to say, she hadn’t been in the best health. But despite that, the moment her cycle had come, the men forced her to go through the clipping. In her struggle, the imbeciles accidentally nicked a vital artery. Normally, her Illyrian healing would’ve granted her a strong chance for survival, but she had been so sick, her body weakened by hours spent in the frigid cold. 

By the time you had been summoned to heal her, she no longer had the strength to recover. Numbness washed over you at the image of her unseeing eyes, the same shade as Azriel’s in the right light, trained toward the vast empty sky. You have a feeling it isn’t a sight you’d forget any time soon. 

You don’t know how long it’s been. The room is shrouded with a thick blanket of darkness, the only respite coming from the dwindling candlelight by your bedside. Only silence exists within these four walls, interrupted by the occasional patter of water leaking from the kitchen sink. You burrow deeper into the sheets, inhaling the trace of Azriel’s scent that still lingered like it would somehow quell this ache inside you. 

Despite spending most of the day bedbound, you’ve barely had any sleep. There is no respite to be found in the dreaming, only nightmares lying in wait. It seems your mind has a knack of bringing your worst fears. Azriel bruised, bloodied and utterly alone, lost, somewhere in the vastness of the continent, hazel eyes - his, then hers, then his again - glazing over, crimson seeping into the arid ground below. 

For the last few weeks, you’ve gathered your grief and worry like rocks to wear around your neck. Your body is heavy, the phantom weight sinking and settling within the marrow of your bones, refusing to leave. It feels like you could stay in this bed forever until you dissipate into nothing but sand, smoke and thought.

You managed to send out a request for the texts Rhys needed translated, but not much else. You’re thankful he directly portalled them on your worktable because you don’t think you could brave the journey to the library today. You don’t think you could do much of anything today, in all honesty. 

So there you lay, bundled up in a collection of blankets, at least three inches of cotton and down that never seem enough to warm you. A book rests in your hands, yet your eyes remain unfocused, not truly seeing the words.

You run your thumb over the crisp paper, knowledge older than you, older than this city and yet you couldn't even bring yourself to focus long enough to dissect their true meaning. Your will is liquid in your hands, slipping through the cracks in between your fingers. Accidentally, you tug too hard on a page and it tears easily beneath your touch. If you had your wits about you, you would’ve been horrified by what you’ve just done. But as you are now, it is difficult to care. 

That’s what you feel like at this moment, you realize. These past few weeks have left you feeling spent, worn out, paper thin. Absently, you stretch out your hand towards the candlelight, close enough to feel the warmth lick against your cool skin. The flame casts a brilliant silhouette around your shadowed hand. It’s a wonder why golden light doesn’t seep right through. 

That’s how Azriel finds you.

The front door of your apartment creeks open, letting in a flood of muted morning light. Your first instinct is to retreat beneath the covers to shield yourself. Azriel calls your name in the silence, worry permeating each syllable. No doubt, he is cataloging the mess your shared space had become in your unintentional neglect. 

You say nothing, wondering if you could just close your eyes and pretend to be asleep, anything to escape his scrutiny. A breath of relief escapes him when he finds you in bed. The mattress dips beneath his weight as he sits beside you. 

The urge to curl tighter around yourself is strong. But he repeats your name and, as though he had cast a spell, you unspool before him, your muscles unwinding, one fiber at a time. 

“Can I touch you?” He asks, voice painfully soft.

“Okay,” you croak out from beneath the blankets. 

Azriel gradually draws the sheets away from your body, giving you ample time to protest if you’d like. Then, he rests his hand on your shoulder. Unbidden, a shiver runs down your spine, followed by a stuttered breath. You don’t realize how much you missed his touch until his textured hand begins its soothing path up and down your back, his heat sinking into your skin. 

Shame washes over you despite the bone-deep comfort you find upon his gentle ministrations. You don’t want him to see you this way. Azriel deserves better, the voices in your head insist. He deserves a mate whose mind does not devour itself at every given opportunity, a mate who does not quake beneath the weight of the world and the idea of their own immortal existence.

As though detecting your train of thought, his shadows leave their preferred perch on his shoulders to pool around you instead. Tendrils of darkness brush away the tears on your face, while some thread through your hair like a gentle breeze. 

On the other hand, Azriel urges you to rest your head on his lap. He begins to run his hand through your hair, uncaring of how greasy and tangled it has become. Eventually, his voice pierces the silence, injecting warmth into the distance between you. He hums a tune you do not recognize, but you can't help but cling to each winding note like a lifeline. Azriel has always had a beautiful voice - depthless, silken and soothing. It feels like a privilege to hear the song that he normally reserves for his shadows.

You must’ve been a pitiful sight to behold, and yet Azriel never looks at you like you are. He always treats you like something to cherish, something to love, like you’re someone he’s spent lifetimes desperately waiting for and you’ve been entirely worth the wait. A traitorous part of you feels like you’ll never deserve it, this love.

Azriel must sense the hurricane of emotions waging a one-sided war in your head, despite the mental shields you adamantly keep up. But he doesn’t tell you to stop, doesn’t brush off your worry with empty words and false promises. Instead, he simply says, “I love you.” 

He speaks it as though it is a fact like one would say that the sky is blue, and the grass is green, and the world would keep on turning in peteruity, orbiting the sun the same way you’ll continue to orbit around each other. His chapped lips ghost over your temple, murmuring your name like a plea, a prayer. 

“More than anything in this world,” he adds as he pulls you into his embrace. 

Your body is pliant for him, arms winding around his neck like that is where they’re meant to be. His arms wrap around your waist to hold you impossibly closer. Webbed wings stretch to curl around the two of you, creating a cocoon of darkness that keeps the rest of the world at bay. With your head resting on his chest, you could hear his heartbeat thudding in chorus with yours. 

“I love you too,” you reply after a long stretch of silence. “But sometimes I wish you could’ve had a better mate.” 

“There is no one better,” Azriel insists. “There is only you, my love; through light, through darkness, through whichever end. Only you.” And you feel the truth of his words as surely as the twinned beating of your hearts. Sometimes it’s hard to convince your traitorous mind that you could have this, that someone could love you so deeply despite having seen you at your worst. Azriel presses another kiss against your cheek, and despite yourself, you begin to believe his words.

You don’t know how long Azriel holds you like that, but it finally feels like a stretch of eternity you could bear.

“What can I do to help, love?” Azriel prompts, cupping your face in the cradle of his scarred palms - their texture, a familiar comfort. 

You turn over his question in your head for a few moments, savoring his scent, the sensation of his skin against your own. A part of you is tempted to ask him to lay beside you for the rest of the day, for a week, for an entire lifetime. You know Azriel would if you asked it of him. But beyond this room, the world continues its elliptical path around the sun and time still ticks on regardless of how disconnected you feel from your own reality. 

“A bath,” is all you manage to say.

Azriel nods, before reluctantly peeling himself from you. “Have you eaten?” 

“‘M not hungry,” you mumble as you sink back into the sheets, sighing as the comforter swallows you up. In truth, you can’t remember when your last meal had been. Hunger didn’t seem so pressing in the last few days.

“That’s not what I asked.” Azriel’s tone leaves no room for argument or negotiation. 

“No,” you finally answer, although with much trepidation. “Not yet.” 

He hums, clearly displeased, but says nothing else. You can already imagine the frown that must be stretching across his face. But it seems Azriel’s presence alone is enough to quieten your mind, at least for now. You must’ve been dead tired because it doesn’t take long for the rhythmic sound of Azriel's familiar footfalls to lull you into dreamless sleep.

"Love," Azriel whispers, his hand hovering over your shoulder, rousing you from your shallow slumber. You blink languidly until molten eyes come into focus. The candlelight flickers, and shadows dance across his face. Azriel’s normally sharp features are softened by the tenderness in his expression. You’ll never tire of waking to the sight of him. 

With a groan, you half-roll half-stumble out of bed. Azriel stays an arm’s length away in case you need him, but he’s careful not to crowd you. His shadows have no such reservations, however. The dark tendrils fretfully twine around your arms, making you smile. You thank them quietly, and for a moment, they seem to dance with delight. Regardless of your initial unsteadiness, you manage to pad all the way to the bathroom.

Upon crossing the threshold, the sweet scent of jasmine immediately overtakes your senses. The tub has already been filled up, steam rising from the sun-covered surface. You begin to unbutton your tunic, clumsy fingers tumbling through your first few attempts. Azriel steadies your hands with his firm grip, his shadows gently circling your wrists. 

“May I?” He asks, gesturing to your tunic, and you nod, not wanting to think anymore. His movements are precise, almost clinical, while he undoes the first five buttons, before bunching the garment in his hands and pulling it over your head entirely. Your skin breaks out in gooseflesh once exposed to the cold air. Azriel is careful to keep his gaze on your face, even as you step out of your undergarments. 

Azriel only betrays his composure when he traces your cheekbone, like he can’t quite help himself. From this distance, you have to crane your neck to look up at him. For a moment, the two of you only stare at each other. The bond glows bright between you, the golden thread gleaming as though it hadn't spent the last few weeks completely stretched thin. 

But then, Azriel withdraws, tilting his head to the steaming tub. Obediently, you step into the water’s warm embrace, the heat nearly stinging your skin. Logically, however, you know it’s only because you’ve allowed yourself to stay in the cold for too long. 

A relieved sigh escapes you as you sink further into the tub. One of his shadows rushes to pillow your heavy head as it rests on the tub’s rim. You thank the sweet little thing, and swirls of black sway back and forth like a dog wagging its tail. Meanwhile, Azriel takes his place by the head of the tub, sitting back on his heels. 

“I’d like to wash your hair,” he says and you're touched by the earnest quality his voice takes. 

“Okay,” you breathe. You’ve never been good at denying Azriel anything, nor did you want to. The more the ice beneath your skin thaws, the more you find that you want him near. 

Azriel begins by running his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp as he pours warm water over your head. With a pop of a bottle, the floral scent of shampoo fills the air. He lathers the substance on your head, his touch tender even as his fingers work through the knots in the strands, untangling them with care. 

After a while, he rinses off the suds and coats his hands with oil. He begins combing his fingers through your hair, starting from the ends and working his way up. The rhythmic motion of his fingers is calming as he draws circles against your scalp. You find yourself melting into the moment, feeling utterly content for the first time in what feels like a very long time. 

Once done, Azriel grabs a small towel and asks, “Do you want help washing?”

You shake your head, wanting to do this for yourself, at least. Understanding flashes in his eyes, and he spares you a soft smile. With that, Azriel leaves the towel by the tub and politely excuses himself from the room. With the door left slightly ajar, you could still hear him move around the apartment followed by the lyrical clinking of silverware against ceramic.

It takes you a few minutes to gather the energy to lather yourself with soap, and a few more to finally rise from the bath. But once the grime is off your skin, you feel a bit of the weight wash off with it too. You feel a bit more like yourself.

After drying off, you tug on the silk robe Azriel has left for you, securing it loosely around your waist. Upon exiting, you spy him by the dining table, scooping a generous serving of soup into a bowl. The mouthwatering aroma of rich broth wafts through the room, and you realize just how hungry you are when your stomach growls in protest. You approach him from behind, making sure that each step is audible.

Azriel continues to set up the table, but you can tell he’s aware of your presence from the way his shoulders seem to relax. The sudden urge to have him close is palpable, an instinct so deeply ingrained into your being. So,  gradually, you wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face on his back. You take a deep inhale, breathing him in - a lungful of moontime mist and cedarwood smoke. 

“I’m glad you’re home,” you murmur against Azriel’s back, your voice muffled by his shirt. 

“I’m glad to be home,” he whispers. His hands abandon their task in favor of twining his fingers with your own. 

Azriel turns to face you and holds your face in his hands. Beneath the swathes of sunlight, his eyes are alight with golden flame, flecks of green scattered over his irises like an afterthought. There is nothing but love in his gaze, nothing but acceptance. 

“Thank you,” you say, tilting your head so the words could kiss his lips, not quite touching but close. “For being here, for loving me, for choosing me, everyday.” 

“I will always choose you,” he vows, before planting a kiss on your forehead.

“Today,” another peck on the tip of your nose; “Tomorrow,” one more on your cheek; “And all the days after,” he finishes with a chaste caress on your lips.

Then, he rests his forehead on yours, your bodies slotted against each other like a lock and its predestined key. In Azriel’s presence, you find it easier to breathe, easier to simply be. For the first time in a long time, your mind is clear and your heart beats in a calm, languid pace that matches his own.

“I’d like to kiss you,” you request, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. Azriel’s gaze is searching, scouring for any hint of anything short of absolute certainty. Perhaps you should tell him that in this world of constant change and chaos, he’s the only one you’re certain of.

Azriel must be satisfied with what he finds written across your features because he replies, “So kiss me then,” the ghost of a smirk playing across his lips.

You’re surprised to find that it’s easy to return the playful expression. Your rise to the tips of your toes while your fingers thread through his raven black hair. When your lips touch, it is as though the world breathes a sigh of relief. Reality realigns and everything outside the two of you and your shared breaths turns inconsequential. He moves against you with practiced ease, like the natural ebb and flow of the tide.

An eternity of this, you think, doesn’t seem so daunting after all. 

AN: i’m not sure if that was too much but thank you for reading 💙 As always, i’d love to hear everyone’s thoughts

English isn’t my first language, so if you see any mistakes, please lmk thru dm! 💙

Also, I just wanted to yap about the Az fics im in the process of writing:

1. Vampire!Azriel x Reader (Working tittle: Ashes in my wake)

I just love the idea of cannibalism (or yk, blood drinking) as a metaphor for love in literature so here we are. ( @/annikin-im-panicin this is ur influence) This one is a bit of a dark fic (nothing too crazy tho, I think), so i’m not sure how it’ll be received. But the idea has been haunting me for yonks so I just had to write it.

2. Tattoo Artist!Azriel x Lucien’s Best Friend!Reader (Working tittle: Drink dry the river Lethe)

This one is a multichapter fic (maybe 4-7 chapters, we’ll see) so it might take me a while before I start posting, but i’ve mostly finished writing the first (very smutty) and second (very angsty) chapter. I ‘m not entirely sure what direction to bring this yet but maybe you guys can help me decide?

Unrelated to Az, but i’ve been brainworming a poly dark-ish innocent!reader x Feysand fic, and a slightly less dark and more sappy(?) poly warrior!reader x royal!nessian fic. I’m so excited to start these but my pile of wips is giving me the stink eye 😂