#what if. wilson came in wearing that new tie | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

averagewriter-inthedark · 2 years

Text

Got Ink? | Their reaction to you having tattoos | Marvel HC P.2

Marvel Masterlist | Other Masterlist

Part 1 here

Below are Sam Wilson and the 3 Peter Parkers. Slight nsfw w/ Andrew’s Peter.

When Sam finds out you have tattoos, and a lot of them at that, he’s a little shocked but definitely finds them to be badass. He’s intrigued by them for the most part and asks questions like “what made you want to get this one?” Or “How bad did this area hurt?” Because he more than likely does’t have ink so he’s curious.

The day he finds out was a day you both decided to go for a early morning run, so you equipped yourself with a simple tank top and running pants. You had a lightweight sweater on but eventually took it off when you started to sweat. His eyes are immediately drawn to your arms, where several tattoos scaled from shoulder to elbow. He could see some on the small portion on of your back that was visible from the tank.

“Woah, woah, woah,” he calls out with curious eyes. “Hold it Hawkeye. How come you’ve never mentioned your inked up, Y/N?” You tie the sweater around your waist, raising a brow to him. “The topic never came up. What you didn’t hear Clint and I talking about them the other day at Tony’s party?” He shakes his head with an exaggerated roll of the eyes.

“Obviously,” he drags out, picking up the pace when you go to run again but not before giving another glance to the color on your arms. “I think I would’ve said something if I heard you talking about them—and you were wearing a suit/pantsuit so how could’ve I have known?”

The rest of the run basically continues with the man asking questions and eventually promising you to let him come the next time you go get one done. And it isn’t long before that he starts joking you should get the shield or his wings tattooed in the future, which you obviously laugh at—but you don’t necessarily deny the idea.

(Tobey’s) Peter finds out in an embarrassing way when he swung in through your window unnaounced when you’d been changing. While you screamed at the sudden appearance, this man was frozen like a deer in headlights. You were only in your undergarments, something he had never seen you in as your relationship was just starting out.

“Peter! What the hell!?” You kept screaming and eventually he broke from his daze with his hands raised. “Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry, Y/N—I didn’t mean to scare you.” You quickly pulled your clothes on, not missing how the man had stayed staring at you instead of turning around. “You, you have tattoos. When did you get those?”

You’re almost confused by the question, but then realize it was the first time he had seen you practically naked. The ink on your body was scattered, but there was enough to show you had a liking for the hobby. “Yeah,” you brushed it off like it wasn’t a big deal, “I’ve always liked them and I knew I wanted some since I was a kid.”

He took his mask finally, his eyes soft and in wonder. He’d be lying if he said you didn’t just get hella more attractive than you already were. He was already head over heels in love with you, finding every inch of you amazing, and this just made him even more under your spell. “That—that’s amazing. You just look so cool—beautiful and the artwork on you is so beautiful too.” You couldn’t help but melt by his words.

The two of you cuddle for the rest of the evening, with Peter lazily tracing over your tattoos while asking questions about them. It becomes a tradition after he finishes saving the streets of New York every night, and he can’t help but wait for your new additions so he can trace over them and help you with the care of keeping them clean when they heal. Much like you do for him when he’s injured and it becomes your thing—although you don’t really look forward to having your spider all bloody while he loves watching the ink heal and set into your skin.

To (Andrews) Peter, he finds it to be the most sexiest thing he’s ever laid eyes on. You never told him you had any tattoos when you first got together and most of them were on your back, hips and side so he never saw them even if you wore simple clothes. It wasn’t until you two had a date night with him taking you to a fancy restaurant that he was in for quite the shock.

You wore something a little more revealing than you usually did when you went out, which showed off your upper and mid back. He had arrived before you were ready so he camped in your living room while you finished up. Once dressed and ready to go, you entered making him stand with a grin.

“How do I look?” You started to spin and when you turned back to his direction, you tilt your head at his perplexed expression. “Uhh, babe you okay?” His jaw was dropped, and you thought you could see a little bit of drool making your face heat up. He lifts a finger, making a spinning motion. “Uh-Uh you have tattoos…on your back—you have tattoos on your back.”

Your mouth makes an ‘o’ shape, forgetting he didn’t know. “Haha, yeah….I have a few actually.” When he doesn’t say anything you feel your heart panic a little. “Do you have a thing against tattoos?” The question immediately shakes him out of his little naughty visual image he had conjured in his brain. “No, no, no. No, no, no. I’m not against, hell no I’m not. I think that’s just so sexy—you’re, you’re sexy. You have tattoos and you’re sexy—wow.”

Yeah, as you could guess mans could not keep his hands off you after than and would purposely have his fingers trace the raised ink whenever you walked next to each other with his hand on your back. The entire night he couldn’t stop looking at you with absolute awe and desire. So much that he couldn’t wait to make that image he had earlier come true.

(This is more of a sibling/platonic approach)

Peter was never one to think about getting tattoos, but always thought they were cool. So when he finds out you—his mentor and unofficial sibling—is decked out it various designs permanently inked into your skin the boy is jumping in his feet. You’re the coolest person he knows, so the fact you have all this artwork on you—that he knows must’ve hurt in certain places—makes you even cooler in his eyes.

“Wow Y/N when did you get this one? Did it hurt as bad as the one on your back? Can I go with you to get your next one? I don’t think I’d ever get one but its so cool you have all these. Do you think maybe you can get a spider one day?” Are just some of the questions spewing from his lips.

How did he find out you wonder? Well the young vigilante had never seen you outside of your suit so the day comes when he asks if you could spar with him. You agreed, so you changed into something loose which consisted of a plain t-shirt and thin capris. You obviously had some skin showing which made his eyes go straight to the half sleeve you had on your forearm that needed to be filled in.

You both spar, with him successfully dodging your attacks and you helping him on his form with his defensive mechanisms. All the while he’s still admiring the tattoos and part of you is impressed he’s managed to ramble on without getting distracted. When it comes to an end you finally say. “Okay kid, I’ll cut you a deal. If you don’t cause any trouble for the remainder of the month and complete all your missions, then I will let you pick out my next tattoo.”

You’re not surprised when just two weeks later Peter is at your door with a sketchbook in hand—with majority of the designs involving little spiders.

#sam wilson #sam wilson headcanon #sam wilson imagine #peter parker headcanon #peter parker #tobey!peter parker #andrew!peter parker #tom!peter parker #tobey!spiderman x reader #andrew!peter x reader #tom!peter x reader #marvel #marvel headcanon #marvel imagines #avengers #avengers headcanon #avenger!reader

60 notes · View notes

royalsunshinehotel · 3 years

Text

ripping clothes (preference)

by my beloved @lover-jpeg

Anwar Kharral (Skins 2009)

Anwar respects clothes. At least he tries his best.

Now that he’s got the money, he gets to dress his style, and he loves the power that comes with that.

He knows you feel the same way about your clothes too.

So when he rips your dress, he feels horrible.

The damn skirt got caught on his watch, and it just spiralled front here.

The Adult activities you were trying to get to are paused because you’re laughing, and he’s apologizing, loudly.

A dress is just a dress, a tie is just a tie. It’s just stuff, it’s okay.

Maybe you hug him to make him feel better. Maybe you do a little bit more.

Sonny Kapoor (The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, 2011) (A/N: based on me, lmao)

He was literally just trying to help. That’s what Sonny does, he loves helping and taking care of people.

You weren’t entirely sure what happened, but you got utterly tangled in your shirt, and jacket while taking a nap. Your necklaces, your hair, ugh...a mess.

It ends up being unsalvageable, so you have to call for your boyfriend to come help.

SOnny looks at you for a minute, and calls for his mother.

Mrs. Kapoor gasps, and says something in a language you don't understand.

Sonny leaves, and goes to get scissors, sweet talking as he cuts you out of your mess.

You feel HORRIBLE, so he stays to hang out with you for a while.

He’s a little late for a role call, but that’s okay.

Neal Sampat (Newsroom, 2011-2014)

Neal kind of hates clothes.

Except for cardigans.

But when it comes to clothes on you? Horrible. A bad idea needs to be fixed.

You’re supposed to be friends with benefits, but when you’re hooking up over at his place, things escalate.

He gets a little too heated and tears the buttons off his favorite blouse that you wear.

But he steps back a minute to look at you, even if you’re about to bite his head off.

“Beautiful.” he says, even if he’s a bit drunk.

He’s right, you are.

Deon Wilson (Chappie, 2015)

On the flipside, you have Deon. The sweetest, dumbest genius you’d ever met.

You can pretty much do whatever you want to him, but you weren’t anticipating the fact that the buttons on his shirt must have been about to fall off or something.

Like you didn’t even mean to rip his shirt open.

He whines, and your blood runs hot.

But he seemed to like it, and he doesn’t pay much attention to what he wears.

You buy him a new shirt the next morning to make up for it.

Sheru “Saroo” Bierley (LION, 2016)

Once Saroo figured out he was strong enough to rip someone’s dress, it’s become his ‘thing’

You don’t mind at all.

You were home with him after your third date, when things got heated on his couch.

Saroo finished after you, and while he came, you heard a tearing sound, and found that your date ripped your dress in half.

In fucking half.

You have to stay over. Obviously.

The next morning, you didn’t have work, or anything to wear in a Lyft home.

Saroo loans you a shirt and sweatpants, but you quickly get dragged back to bed.

Jay Menha (The Wedding Guest, 2018)

Jay’s self awareness is startling, but necessary. He knows he can be imposing, so when the two of you started, he had been nothing but gentle and good to you.

And you love him for it, always!

He’s only ever ripped your clothing once, though you’re trying to get that reaction more.

Jay’s soft, he’s sweet, he’s brave, we know this.

He’s also able to toss you around however he wants.

The closest you’d ever gotten before, was him ripping your underwear off. You’d gotten used to that.

You were being a brat, picking a fight over something stupid just to see what would happen.

Next thing you know, you're bent over his knee, and your skirt is in pieces on the ground.

It escalated quickly, but damn, 10/10, would recommend

David Copperfield (2019)

Okay, David is a dork. We love this about him. He’s a massive, warm-hearted geek.

This doesn’t stop the fact that he’s 6’2 with strong hands...from all the writing…

And he can get heated, we know this.

Passionate...hhh...temper….hhhh

You’re just trying to wrap up with your show. Your boyfriend comes to see you, the opera singer, and definitely loiters backstage.

In your dressing room, things get heated quickly.

You were having some trouble getting David out of his shirt, so you just started pulling frantically.

His shirt’s trashed, and your face goes hot. Was that a little too far?

You quickly get an answer when David rips you out of your bodice and sits you on top of your piano.

He’ll replace the dress, you’re sure of it. For now, you just get to enjoy this.

Joshua Madika (Modern Love, 2019)

Like Anwar, Joshua likes clothes. He respects fashion and he enjoys it as much as the next tech millionaire.

This was an accident though, he was just trying to help you in the dressing room. Your zipper had gotten caught, and you just wanted help

This escalates with a massive tearing sound, and the fragile material has been trashed.

It’s a good thing you’re both horny pieces of trash, because things took a good turn after you got the dress off.

The moment you knew he was the one, was when he picked the ruined pieces of the dress off the ground and bought it.

He broke it, after all.

Sir Gawain (The Green Knight, 2021)

God. Gawain. Sir Gawain. King Gawain eventually. He’s an expert at ripping clothes.

You’re his consort, aka his ‘actual wife’ as Ravenna is entangled with her ladies maid.

The works of Sappho have just been added to Camelot’s library, what do you and Gawain have against it? Nothing.

Sometimes Gawain comes in after meetings, heated about the nonsense.

All his advisors seem to do is raise his heart rate, not in a fun way.

This makes you stress relief, and you love it.

The first time he tore your dress was when he’d just married Ravenna. He paid off the priests and came to you instead.

You were sad, of course, but he surprised you.

You had a pale blue dress, and he simply kissed you, pushed you face-down into your pillows, and ripped it off.

He also ate you until you cried and spent the night (and next morning) in your room. And every night since.

67 notes · View notes

doubleleoenergy · 3 years

Text

FIRE & DESIRE

You a real ass woman and I like it. I don't wanna fight it.

Pairing: sub!Sam Wilson x dom!Reader

Summary: Sam is coming home from a rough Captain America-related meeting and Reader wants to try something she watched on a Netflix show while he was away.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, faceriding, blindfolds, sensory deprivation, bondage (tie), dirty talk, smut

Word Count: 2082

Author’s Notes: Thank you to @midnightf helping me come up with the perfect idea, and also thank you to @evanstan-hoe for giving me the courage to write again!

Sam makes his way out of his car, grabbing his briefcase out of the backseat before making his way to the front door of his home. Fumbling with his keys, Sam unlocks the door and shuts it behind him, setting his briefcase down against the hardwood floor.

“Babe, I’m back.” He calls out, grumbling as he knocks off his loafers. He and Joaquin met with the Sergeant and his team about the logistics of a rescue mission next week in Sierra Leone, and he promised to fill Bucky in tomorrow when they meet for their weekly lunch at their favorite diner by Bucky’s apartment. The meeting was not necessarily BAD, but it was exhausting sitting through nine hours of briefs and information when all he wanted to do was get out of his suit and crawl back into bed. It’s not that he didn’t WANT to be Captain America, it’s just that now that he met y/n he wanted to spend any free time he had with her.

They met through his sister Sarah when he came to take his nephews out fishing three months ago, and was instantly drawn to her. Y/N had moved to town just before Sam moved back to be closer to Sarah and the boys, he asked her out the same day they met and the rest was HISTORY. Y/N preferred to stay over at his place when he wasn’t on a mission, which Sam didn’t mind. She actually helped to make the place much more warm and inviting, helping him pick out furniture and insisting on THROW pillows on the couch. What’s the point of a throw pillow if it’s just for decoration? Sam didn’t mind though, he loved that the decor reminded him of her, and that he actually felt at home with someone.

“In here!” Y/N calls from the bedroom, waiting for him to walk through the open door. She had spent the morning cleaning and prepping for dinner tonight before settling back into bed and watching a new show on Netflix. There was less plot than PORN it seemed, and one particular scene in the third episode gave her an IDEA. She was anxiously awaiting Sam’s arrival ever since, and now it was finally time to help him blow off some steam.

Sam’s footsteps are heavy against the wood floor, walking into the bedroom and tugging at the tie around his neck. “God, that meeting took SO long. I need to get out of these clothes and jump in a hot shower.” He wanted to wash the hours spent in his suit jotting down notes and setting up their plan for the mission off his body and out of his mind.

“Well, actually I’ve been waiting for you. I wanted to try something I saw on tv.” Before Sam can protest, she moves closer, pressing a finger to his lips. “-And don’t tell me that you’d rather take a shower and RELAX. I’ve been waiting for you to get home and I know we both need some relief.”

Sam cocks a brow at her, watching as she pulls the tie from around his neck and holds it in her hands. “Now STRIP.” Her voice is soft, but she’s never told him to do that before. He doesn’t protest though, he had been wanting to get out of the suit ever since he put it on that morning, taking no time at all to pull off the white button-up, belt, and trousers, standing in front of her with just his black Calvin Klein boxers.

“Take those off too.” She motions to the boxers on his chiseled frame. “Then I need you to move onto the bed and sit up against the headboard.” She watches him with LUST filled eyes, tugging the hem of Sam’s oversized shirt over her own head and slipping down her lacey black thong. She’s naked now, just like him, moving over to the bed to straddle his legs. Sam reaches down to touch her hip and she slaps his hand away.

“Put your hands up to the headboard, over your HEAD.” He’s confused, furrowing his brows but doing as he’s told, watching as she takes the silky black tie she had just pulled off his neck and tying it around his hands, looping it through the slits in the headboard before making a taut knot to keep him in place.

“So you’re not going to let me TOUCH you?” His voice comes out a bit rough, Sam loves to touch her body, roam his hands all over he soft skin, but today is different.

“Nope, not unless you’re GOOD. Now, I’m going to slip this on over your eyes so you can’t see anything.” She’s leaning over to the nightstand, pulling out a navy blue mask with the words ‘Beauty Sleep’ written out in cursive across the front. “You’re going to have me wear your SLEEPING mask?”

“I didn’t have a real blindfold, okay? Just pretend it’s not girly.” She slips it on over his head, the silk pushing over his eyes until he’s enveloped in darkness. This is totally new, he can’t see her but he can FEEL her still straddling his legs still, making his cock twitch and fill with blood.

“You’re going to be quiet unless I ask you to speak.” Her voice is low, and he can feel her moving her weight off of his legs as her feet step on either side of his torso. He can FEEL her hovering above him, feel the warmth of her body as it staggers above close to him. He can smell the mix of her vanilla lavender lotion on her skin, his favorite.

“You’re going to get me off with just your MOUTH.” She moves over his face and he can SMELL her pussy before he feels her dip down so he can reach her lips. He is so turned on by the way she’s making him submit to her and takes no time at all to start lapping at her core, taking in the sweetness of her wetness as he moves his tongue in and out. He wishes he could use his FINGERS, fuck into her so he can hear the wet noises coming from her folds, but of course she’s got him tied up. His cock is hard and throbbing against his abdomen and he lets out a moan into her pussy, sending shivers down her spine.

“Fuck, Sam you’re SO good with your mouth.” She moves her fingers along his short hair, nothing to grip except the back of his head as she pushes his mouth deeper into her core. With the moan that leaves his lips again she can tell he’s INTO it and she wastes no time, moving her hips along his face, riding it. Sam’s mustache is tickling right along her clit, drops of sweat pooling along her brow, heat building up in her chest.

“Baby I’ve been waiting all DAY to try this out on you, saw it on a Netflix show and knew it’d be so hot. Everything is hot with you.” Her breath is becoming ragged and Sam KNOWS that means she’s close, she’s riding his face hard and he’s bucking his hips up in the air for some relief but he feels her slap his shoulder lightly. “Do NOT move. This is about me right now.”

A few minutes later she’s coming undone ABOVE him, her orgasm ripping through her as she cums on Sam’s face. He wants it all, every last drop of her and he’s lapping it all up like a kitten with a bowl of milk. Y/N grabs the headboard for support, legs shaking as she finally moves off of his mouth.

“Y/N please…” She moves to straddle his thighs again, watching as his cock bounced against his chest. He was so fit, like a GREEK GOD at her disposal and she licks her lips. “Please what?” He groans again, tugging his arms against the silk tie but not enough to break free.

“Fuck, please y/n do something, ANYTHING….baby please, need you to touch me.” He can’t see her still with the mask over his eyes but he can feel her thin fingers as they FINALLY grip the base of his cock, stroking lightly.

“You’re gonna keep the mask on this whole time.” She strokes his cock a few times, noticing the precum start to leak from the tip down the shaft and she moves so she’s above him again, hovering her pussy over his cock. “You want this SAM, want me to sit on your fat cock?”

He’s choking out a moan, eyes watering a bit. She never teases HIM like this and it’s driving him crazy. “Yes, baby...y/n please, use my cock baby, fuck just-” He’s cut off when he feels her sinking down slowly onto him until he feels her lips sitting flush against his skin, bottoming out inside of her. She always feels so FULL from his cock.

“Fuck, Sam you feel so GOOD. I want you to just feel me, not be able to see what I’m actually doing. You can talk but you’re not allowed to move.” Her hand grips at his thigh so she can support herself, the other pressing against his chest, bouncing up and down on his cock. It feels so thick inside of her, her pussy throbbing. He doesn’t even had to touch her, doesn’t have to MOVE and she’s still losing her mind.

Sam struggles with not being able to SEE anything, but it’s as if his other senses are heightened. He’s focusing on just how good it feels to be INSIDE of her, how her walls clamp down on his cock, the sound of her moans filling the room.

“Baby, this is so hot...you’re so HOT. I don’t even care that I can’t see you because I can just IMAGINE how you look.” Sam can picture her plump breasts bouncing against her as she moves, her hair falling into her face and her lips pursed. She’s so beautiful, naked or not, she’s got him wrapped around his finger. He’s groaning now, knowing he can’t hold on much longer.

“Sam I want you to fill me up, fuck me full with your cum. Want to feel you inside me all day, want to feel it LEAKING from inside me as I finish dinner tonight.” Her words are only making it harder, she KNOWS he’s got a breeding kink when it comes to her, and her words are always the best way to egg him on and put him over the edge.

“Fuck I’m gonna-” His orgasm has him sending hot spurts of cum DEEP into her pussy and y/n stops her motions to just hold him in tight, wanting to savor the feeling. He’s breathing heavily now and she can see the sweat dripping off his chest. The feeling of his cum and the look of PLEASURE on his face has her cumming once again. Once he’s stopped twitching inside of her she pulls off of him slowly, tightening her walls to keep as much cum as she can inside, though she feels a dribble running down her thigh. Y/N moves beside Sam, first untying his hands from the headboard and then pulling off the mask and throwing it to the floor.

“Was that okay?” The submissive side of her coming out to make sure he’s pleased. Sam’s rough hands pull her to his side, his eyes FINALLY being able to take her in. He kisses her hair, fingers rubbing up and down the small of her back.

“Baby that was FANTASTIC. Who knew you’d be good at dominating me?” Her fingers aimlessly trail along his slick torso, curling her body further into his. “I might have to do that more often.” Eyes meet his, hers feeling slightly heavy from her two orgasms.

“So they have another mission for you, huh? When are you-” Sam kisses her lips, cutting her off. His fingers move to play with the loose strands of her hair, pulling away to give her a soft smile.

“It’s not until NEXT week, so let's not waste our time thinking or TALKING about it. Just want to focus on you.” He places another kiss on her head, her body relaxing as her eyes close.

“Besides, I’m definitely gonna need you to do all THIS again before I leave.”

#sam wilson x reader #sam wilson smut #sam wilson x reader smut #doubleleoenergyworks

93 notes · View notes

sunriserose1023 · 3 years

Text

One Last Job [Sixteen]

WORD COUNT: 1862 WARNINGS: Talk of violence and murder and murder for hire, slight angst, police goings on CHAPTER SUMMARY: Bucky tries to tie up a loose end.

Masterlist

PREVIOUS: CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Bucky stepped into the club, the gun in the waistband of his jeans weighing against his lower back. He glanced around, seeing the accommodations in the light of day instead of under neon and darkness.

“Can I help you?”

Bucky stepped forward, making his way towards the woman in a pencil skirt and high heels. He didn’t answer, and she simply raised an eyebrow.

“Do you have an appointment?” “No, I don’t.”

She smiled.

“Then what are you doing here?” “I need to speak to Ronan.”

She slowly nodded.

“May I ask why?” “No.”

Her eyebrow raised again. After a stretch of silence, she gave a quiet laugh.

“You think we don’t know why you’re here, Mr. Barnes?”

It was Bucky’s eyebrow that raised this time. The woman shook her almost burgundy-colored hair.

“You’ve been all over the news. Bodyguard to Hollywood’s brightest star. Fiancé now, if the rumors are to be believed.” “They are.”

She nodded, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Not only that, but you took out one of our best mercenaries on national television.” “Mercenaries? Is that what you call it?”

Her lips curved into a seductive smile.

“What would you call it?”

Bucky shrugged.

“Murder for hire?” “Is that not the same?”

Bucky glanced behind him, at the empty club and the closed door. The woman turned to walk to the bar, speaking over her shoulder.

“If you’re wondering where your friends are, the wire you’re wearing hit interference as soon as you stepped through the door. They haven’t heard a thing, and Officer Wilson knows better than to bust in here without diehard cause.”

Bucky swallowed and nodded. He followed her to the bar, taking a seat on one of the stools when she offered. She poured two glasses of expensive bourbon, setting one glass in front of him. Bucky held up the glass and she tapped hers against his, both of them taking a sip. Bucky set his glass back on the bar.

“So who are you?”

She smiled.

“Gamora.” “Ronan’s better half?” “Half-sister. The brains of the operation.” “Ah. So Ronan’s the brawn.”

She closed one eye and pointed at him.

“I knew you were a smart one.”

Bucky smiled, looking into his glass. Gamora chuckled softly.

“There’s nothing in it. If we wanted you gone, you would be.” “So why was Y/N’s ordeal so drawn out?”

Gamora clicked her tongue.

“We weren’t in charge of that one. Well, we were, but not …”

She sighed.

“The sister came to us. Paid exorbitantly, and Ronan gave the assignment to Quill. Quill liked to … embellish his assignments, which is why it took so long.” “And since Quill failed, now what?”

Gamora narrowed her eyes, then relaxed.

“Well, we’d already received the payment.” “Right. And I assume you don’t give refunds?” “Not to the deceased.”

Bucky swallowed again and Gamora swirled the bourbon in her glass.

“Why exactly are you here, Mr. Barnes?” “I want to speak with Ronan.” “And by ‘speak with,’ you really mean ‘put a bullet between his eyes?’”

Bucky met her eyes and Gamora nodded.

“Mr. Barnes, you’re former military, correct?”

Bucky didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. Gamora continued, taking a few steps behind the bar, glass in her hand.

“You know the world is not as happy-go-lucky as everyone tries to make it out to be. It’s dark and gritty and the underbelly is just the start.” “What are you trying to say?” “I’m saying that you can try and put a stop to us all you want. You think another operation won’t spring up in our place? You think there’s not other operations like ours in this very town?”

Bucky drained the bourbon in his glass and Gamora tapped hers against her chin.

“Can I make an assumption, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky nodded.

“The wire you’re wearing was an afterthought, right?”

Bucky lifted his eyes to hers and she smiled.

“You’re here to see about Y/N’s contract. To see what you can do to take care of it.”

Bucky clenched his fists to try and stop his hands from shaking. Gamora slowly nodded.

“I thought so.” “Please.” “So … what is it? You want to buy it out? See if you can join our roster?”\ “No. I don’t do that anymore.”

Gamora nodded again.

“Over a dozen confirmed kills during your time with the Army.”

Bucky ground his teeth together.

“I said I don’t do that anymore.”

Gamora set her glass on the bar.

“What do you do? Private security?” “No, I’m retiring from that.” “Going to join the force?” “No, I’m thinking about retiring from everything.” “Let your little lady be the breadwinner?”

Bucky tilted his neck to the side, bones audibly cracking. Gamora gave a quiet chuckle.

“Stressed?” “Listen, I—“ “No, you listen.”

Bucky closed his mouth and Gamora ran a finger around the rim of her glass.

“It’s a shame you’re not joining L.A.’s finest. It helps to have friends in high places.” “Is that what we are? Friends?”

Gamora closed one eye.

“Acquaintances?”

Bucky gave a nod, and Gamora sighed.

“Let’s say, just this once, that we wipe the slate clean. We’ll keep the money Quill didn’t receive for a completed job, and dispose of Y/N’s open contract.” “Just like that?”

Gamora shrugged her shoulders.

“Just like that.” “What’s the catch?”

Gamora smiled.

“Such a cynic.” “Realist.” “Touché.”

Bucky stared at her while she pursed her lips.

“Let’s say we do this for you, and someday if we need your help—“ “No.”

Gamora nodded.

“Then we will just let bygones be bygones. But if you ever step foot in here again, you both will be considered fair game.” “Just like that?” “I’m level-headed, Mr. Barnes. Able to see the difference between friend and foe. Able to put my feelings aside and see the bigger picture. My brother is not. Take the win and enjoy your life. Y/N Barton is a free woman.” “For now?” “For good, as long as you keep your distance. That includes anything that was said today in confidence.”

Bucky smiled as he looked down at his glass.

“So what’s said between these walls …” “Stays between these walls. Deal?”

Bucky held her eyes for a moment, then held out his hand. Gamora slipped her palm against his and Bucky nodded.

“Deal.”

They shook on it, and Bucky finished his drink. He set the glass on the bar and stood up, nodding to Gamora before he turned and walked out the door.

“Fuck, Barnes!”

Bucky blinked wide eyes as he was embraced by Sam. Sam pushed him back and held him at arms’ length, studying him.

“I’m fine, Sam.” “The fucking wire went dead as soon as you walked through the door.”

Bucky nodded. Sam cursed under his breath, shaking his head.

“Did you see Gamora? Get anything from her?”

Bucky stared at Sam for a moment, then shook his head. Sam gave an exasperated breath.

“Nothing?”

Bucky shook his head again and Sam cursed again, rubbing his hands over his short hair.

“She didn’t give you anything we can use against her?”

Bucky slowly shook his head. Sam narrowed his eyes and stepped closer.

“She did, didn’t she?” “Nothing I can tell you without incriminating myself.”

Sam’s eyebrows drew together and Bucky sighed.

“I’m pleading the Fifth, Sam. If you try to take them to court and put me on a stand, I’ll tell them exactly what I’m telling you right now. Nothing.” “Goddamn it.”

Bucky reached under his shirt and pulled the wire off his chest, wincing when his skin released the tape. He handed the wire to Sam, who blew out a breath and nodded as he took it. Bucky clapped Sam on the shoulder, squeezing once before jogging to his truck.

“Babe?” “Kitchen!”

Bucky closed and locked the door behind him, making his way into the kitchen. He stopped at the doorway, leaning a shoulder against it and crossing his arms, doing the same with his ankles. A smile came over his face when he saw you bent over in front of the fridge, your backside barely covered by the robe you were wearing.

“Hey, Princess.”

You stood up, turning to face him, a smile breaking over your face.

“Hey, handsome.”

Bucky stared at you while you stared back at him, and you gave a quiet giggle.

“This is normally the time where I’d ask you about your day, but …” “But what?” “Have you noticed how quiet it is?”

Bucky took his eyes from yours for the first time, raising one eyebrow. You nodded, one finger drawing designs on the countertop.

“You know how Ollie’s been begging to go see Uncle Steve’s new job at the White House?”

Bucky nodded, and you smiled.

“Clint showed up not too long after you were gone, helped Ollie throw some shit in a bag, and they’re taking a long weekend.” “Oh, are they?”

You nodded, hands going to the tie of your robe.

“Which means that for the first time in quite some time … you and I are alone, James.”

You opened your robe to show Bucky you didn’t have anything on underneath. He stumbled as his shoulder slid off the wall, making you laugh as he rounded the island, hands slipping beneath your robe to brush over your bare skin as he pulled you close. You sucked in a breath and lifted your hands to his face, the diamond Ollie helped pick out sparkling on your left hand.

“I love you, Princess.”

You smiled, pulling his face closer.

“I love you too, Buck.”

He kissed you as his hand slid down to cup your ass, groaning into your mouth as you wrapped your leg around his waist. Bucky shook his head, unwilling to take his lips from yours.

“I thought I’d take you to bed, but I don’t think I can make it that far.” “The floor’s fine.”

Bucky gave a laugh as he laid you down, reaching behind his head to tug off his shirt, spreading your robe so he could look at you. You lifted one hand to the scar on his chest and he shook his head.

“Stay with me.”

You nodded, covering the scar with your palm, the ring sparkling against his skin.

“I’m here.” “So am I. And that’s never going to change.”

You smiled as he bent to kiss you once more, his hands moving to the cold tile. He lifted his head to look down at you, and you tilted your head, smiling gently at him.

“What?”

Bucky shook his head, a soft smile on his lips.

“I’m just glad it’s all over. That you’re safe.” “I’ve always felt safe with you, Buck.” “I know. But now you’re safe in general.” “Hey.”

He closed his eyes as your hand cupped his cheek. Your voice was soft.

“Is everything okay?”

Bucky nodded, blinking his grey eyes open.

“I love you.” “I love you too, Buck.”

His hand slipped between your thighs and you gasped, eyes fluttering closed.

“James.” “There’s my girl. My Princess.”

You moaned, tugging his head down until he could kiss you again.

NEXT: EPILOGUE

TAGS: @i-have-no-life-charlie, @jillybeaner13, @notyourtypicalrose, @sea040561, @fallenoutofrose, @geeksareunique, @distractedgemini, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @isaxhorror, @scentedsongrebel, @paige-sais-rawr, @beardburnsupersoldiers, @absolukeyrh, @elatedmarvel, @shadowsof-thenight, @sarcasm-myfriend, @our-marvel-universe, @shinycupcakebaker, @victoriavickens, @not-another-fangirl, @ellaenchanted91, @soccer-100000, @redbarn1995, @livelaughlovesmilekiss

#one last job series #mcu au #marvel au #bucky barnes x female reader #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #celebrity reader #bodyguard bucky barnes #female reader #reader insert #marvel reader insert #mcu reader insert #mcu #marvel #the bodyguard movie

101 notes · View notes

creativeashproductions · 3 years

Text

What If...? V // Alive!Luke Patterson

Summary: 1995 was Sunset Curve’s big break in the music world with a successful future. Between 1995-2004 a handful of things happen: Playing the Orpheum, the band buying a house, a car accident, a reconciliation, an engagement, a wedding and children. All things that potentially may have not happened had the boys continued to eating sketchy hot dogs from a car.

Warnings: Swearing, pregnancy, labour, minor angst and a bunch of fluff.

Words: 3.1k

Requested: By @beautifulblogsblog. The last part of your request 🥺😭

A/N: Wow. The last part in the What If…? Mini series is here. This was incredibly fun to write and while I wrote the last two parts I played a few covers and rewrites of Unsaid Emily. This is the first finished series. I’ll also let everyone know that there will be a part three for Lost Time.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

Hospital Maternity Room #284, 1999

“Have a child, they said. Pregnancy is a beautiful thing they said. I can confirm that asshole that said that had a dick.” You hissed from the hospital bed. A contraction contracting your midsection.

Nancy Y/L/N and Emily Patterson took up residence in the chairs on either side of Y/N Patterson in the afternoon of 1999. Nancy had been using the previous months making a scrapbook for the baby; the first bit with copies of photos from Luke and your baby stages. The rest would be the first year of your baby’s life.

“Would you like some ice chips?” Emily asked focused on knitting the baby hat for her impending grandchild.

Mitch and Lance each had made themselves scarce from the hospital in favour of working leaving the women alone.

“I’d like your son to be here to kick his ass.” Your eye twitched at the thought of your husband currently on an airplane. Sunset Curve had gone on a three-day interview marathon to the dislike of your friends and family.

Sunset Curve really needs to fire their manager with little respect for his charges’ lives. Especially the lead singer’s first child. Luke had no clue you had gone into labour.

“Your father had words with Jerry for his meddling.” Nancy told her daughter glancing up at the strained smile through another contraction, “I’m sure Jerry thought the controversy of Luke not making the birth would be perfect for publicity.”

“I swear I will strangle Jerry if Luke isn’t here. I will pulverize the son of a bitch.” You hissed relaxing against the white sheets in the private suite. The mothers had been constants in the room while Rose, the pianist from the wedding, had visited briefly.

Rose and the photographer Ray had hit it off so well they had entered a relationship that then blossomed a friendship with you. The couple had become dear friends in the last few months.

“Okay Y/N, we’re gonna check your progress.” The doctor spoke swiftly tugging the disposable medical gloves on his hands. Two nurses worked with him. Your eyes pinned to the ceiling during the short examination.

“We’ve hit ten centimetres.” The doctor announced pushing the wheeled stool away to study your expressions, “Do you have your partner here?”

The tears built up as it settled that Luke might miss the birth of his first child when he had been so excited about it. He had bought and read more pregnancy books than you he had been talking with his father on how he could support you. He took classes with his mom on how to change a diaper, check the temperature of the bottle and methods for colic and diaper rashes.

Overwhelmed the feeling of two pairs of hands comforted you with the reminder that while Luke wasn’t there, you still had support. The baby would be born with both his grandmothers in the room. It was as best as it could be.

In a fast pace, you then found yourself with your legs in the stirrups with a stranger, albeit a doctor, staring at your vagina. It was uncomfortable, but it faded when the pain really began.

“Okay I want you to push from 1-10.” The doctor soothed, “Good job.”

“You’re doing so well, darling,” Nancy told you, leading Emily to open her mouth. Unfortunately, she didn’t get the chance.

“I’m here!” Luke exclaimed rushing into the room, “Your dad was-“

Why was it unfortunate that Emily didn’t speak? Well, Luke unprepared caught sight of your exposed lower half. He promptly fainted with a thud to the floor.

“Are you serious?!” You yelled glaring at the puddle of your husband out cold with one of the nurses waving a package under his nose.

The smelling salt pack under Luke’s nose, bringing him back to consciousness, “Oh, boy. I fainted.”

“It happens more often than you would think.” The nurse told the young man while you focused on another push.

By the time the contraction ended, Luke had taken his mother’s place in holding your hand with encouraging words dripping off his tongue.

“This is the only child we’re having.” You hissed at the musician who continued to pale with a perfect view of the birthing in a reflection, “If you faint again I will…ARG”

A beautiful cry filled the room to the relief of baby Patterson’s parents bringing both of them to cry as well. Baby Patterson was scooped away to the corner of the room for a checkup and weight while the doctor inspected you. Time felt unreal as it passed quickly.

Baby Patterson was wiped clean as you delivered the placenta, got cleaned up with a sheet change and began to rest. Baby hairs plastered against your forehead you cooed at the swaddled form of your baby.

“So beautiful.” Luke whispered, unaware of his mother taking pictures with the lessons Ray had given her. The baby’s mouth opened with a gurgle that caused your heart to grow, “I’ll go let the boys know.”

Mesmerized by the baby, Luke made his way to the family waiting room on the maternity ward where it was packed. Opening the door, he counted Reggie, Bobby, Alex, Alex’s boyfriend Willie, your father Lance and Luke’s father. In the corner, Rose and Ray huddled together.

“Well?” Alex anxiously questioned picking at his cuticles, anxious for any news. His blue eyes begging his best friend for answers.

“Y/N is doing fine. The birth was smooth, and baby Patterson is healthy.” Luke proudly announced, placing his hands on the hem of his purple long sleeve shirt.

The room went silent before Mitch spoke, “So, do I have a granddaughter or a grandson?”

From the moment she was born, Stevie Eleanor Patterson had her father tied around her finger with her daddy’s matching hazel gaze. Lips like yours and a nose still unsure of but the nine-month-old was absolutely gorgeous with her short brown hair already curling. Of course, you could be biased as she was all yours.

Stevie wouldn’t settle without rock music of her father singing songs, but she did sleep through the night since day one. That didn’t mean she’d continue to sleep through the night, regression of sleep was tale your mother told about you as a baby.

“Hello sweet baby girl.” You whispered gently rocking the baby back to sleep mesmerized by the perfect combination of you and Luke, “So sleepy from feeding hmm?”

Stevie was heavy with the only complication being the minor tongue tie that was resolved increasing her feed. Stevie had such an appetite you had to compensate with formula to a degree, and you were sure the appetite was all Luke.

“Hey sweetheart.” Luke murmured from the door of Stevie’s bedroom wearing his Rush cutoff shirt and his staple black jeans.

The now twenty-year-old man had transitioned smoothly into fatherhood with the support of his best friends and family. Emily and Nancy had alternated staying in the guest room to help in the first month; the birth had been easy, but recovery had been at a near standstill.

“Hey!” You spoke as Stevie reacted to Luke’s voice, “I thought you said you would be late?”

Luke’s lips turned up at your words, “It looked that way, but Tom sent us home. God, I wish we had him from the first instead of Jerry.”

Both noses of the couple scrunched at the insensitive former manager that had both hit on you and insulted you when started showing with the pregnancy. The minute they could the band fired the man and found a saviour in Tom. Tom had left his previous employment with some magician with a name like Conner or something. The magician was narcissistic truthfully and had a slight obsession with the occult and death.

“Perfect. I need a shower.” You sighed shuffling Stevie into Luke’s warm embrace staring at the daddy-daughter duo.

“Have a bath. Relax babe. I got it.” Luke cooed, staring at his baby daughter’s bright gaze and dimpled smile.

Luke couldn’t believe how blessed he had been in falling in love with someone like you and receiving a gift. The gift being a father to the most beautiful angel in the world with the name Stevie.

“Love you!” You called over hastily make a flee for the master bathroom with the large tub before Stevie objected.

How lucky were you to have a husband like Luke?

Malibu, Patterson home, 2004

Luke, Reggie, Bobby and Alex, better known as Sunset Curve, had become legendary in the music world after their 1995 headliner debut at the Orpheum. In the nine years since the esteemed performance Sunset Curve had released two studio albums and toured four times. With the good times came the bad times as well.

Bobby Willis had decided he wanted to pursue a solo career creating a cavern between all four boys. He would change his name to Trevor Wilson at the suggestion of his label. He had little traction with his songs.

“Daddy!” Squealed, the three old little brunette girl ran through the modest-sized mansion to the man at the door, “I missed you!”

Luke, having memorized the routine, had already left his bag on the ground as his five-year-old daughter launched herself into his arms. Stevie had kept the hazel eyes with the chocolate coloured wavy hair. You could see yourself with her nose, chin, mouth and ears, but the rest is all Luke.

“Bug, you saw Daddy this morning.” You spoke, bringing Luke’s attention to the woman leaning against the wall. Luke’s heart fluttered, taking in the vision of his wife, who inspired so many songs.

Luke’s lips separated to reveal that perfect smile that stilled made your stomach flutter as it had since you were both fifteen. His hazel eyes glanced from your face to the one-year-old on your hip with his eyes closed. Little lips opened with quiet snores.

Hudson Jude was born in December of 2002 thankfully while Sunset Curve was on a break allowing Luke to be there. Hud was a near replica of you with the same eyes as his older sister and father. His infectious personality mimicking his uncle Reggie.

Mitch and Emily’s House May 2002

Last night had been incredible to Luke Patterson as Sunset Curve stood on the stadium stage as the sold-out crowd cheered as the song came to an end. ‘Now or Never’ had a special spot in the band’s hearts as they believed it had been the spark of interest from record execs back in ’95. Luke’s blue electric hung behind him as his best friends, his brothers, came to the edge with him. Grins splitting their faces the four boys grabbed hands and bowed to the audience.

“Thank you so much for coming out!” Luke’s voice reached every corner of the stadium drinking in the cheering and the signs in the crowd. And it felt like just yesterday they played the Orpheum before they hit it big.

The screams growing as Reggie’s winked in the direction of a group of girls, but Luke’s drifted to the VIP section. You stood with Stevie wearing the special headphones to protect her hearing. Her tiny hands clapping as her eyes wandered the large number of people.

The next morning, right now, he was in the living room with his parents, in-laws, his wife and daughter. So much had changed for the vocalist from fleeing this very house to returning to make amends. Now he watched his daughter playing with the toys Emily had found in the attic from Luke’s childhood.

“Hey I got you a gift.” You whispered to the man leaning against your legs on the floor. You sat seated on the couch while the other adults spoke.

“A gift? What for?” Luke questioned leaning to rest his head on your lap. His eyes found the little box you had hidden behind a pillow.

It was small and unassuming to the group in the living room. Luke’s fingers pulled the bow apart before the lid came off. Nestled in the velvet five guitars were. Taking one, Luke read the engraving.

“New Sunset Curve member: Coming December 2002.” Luke whispered blinking as he flipped it to see, “Daddy’s new music buddy.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, “The other ones are for the boys. The back has their names on it.”

“We’re having another baby?” Luke softly asked, turning to face you completely. His eyes wonder-filled at the news, “Oh my gosh!”

“I know. I’m about two months pregnant at this point.” You murmured back cupping his cheeks with the stubble he hadn’t shaved yet. Tears filling both his and your eyes, “With how busy the tour was I lost track of my periods.”

“Oh my gosh. Can I tell them?” Luke pleaded on his knees, bringing the attention of both your parents. Stevie was still so enthralled by her toys she didn’t catch any words..

“Go ahead.” You smiled at the excited man. Facing the other side of the room, Luke nestled into your side on the couch..

Hand pressing on your flat tummy he grinned, “Stevie’s gonna be a big sister.”

Luke was so excited when his second child was born, he was thrilled at having a son; he would have been just as excited for a girl. He had a son and a daughter he loved with everything in him. He collaborated with Lance on a song for his own children just as Lance had.

“Hi Hud,” Luke spoke, stepping close to kiss his son’s sleeping head nestled in your neck, “How’s my gorgeous wife today.”

“Tired. Hud is breaking a new tooth, but Stevie’s been better today. She missed her uncle Alex.” You spoke, looking at your little girl.

Stevie had become Alex’s shadow with the man even buying her a toy drumset for her fifth birthday. Alex and Willie had been away the past two weeks for a honeymoon; they legally couldn’t marry, but that didn’t stop them from having a dedication ceremony. The minute the law changed, you had no doubt Willie and Alex would find their way to a courthouse.

“We all miss Alex.” Luke sighed, “I hope he finds beach sand for the next year, there’s only so much I can take of Reggie. Bobby, Trevor came to the studio today. His sales have dropped, and his label dropped him.”

“He wants to come back?”

“To be fair he never really left the band. He went solo.” Luke admitted, “It’s hard to trust him after he took ‘Get Lost’ from us. At least he didn’t take ‘My Name is Luke’ from us.”

Your hand pushed up the hair hanging in his eyes below the orange beanie that had been a staple outfit piece for years now. Fronts pushed together, Luke kissed you for the first time today other than the quick peck as he left this morning. Hudson had a lousy sleep that left Luke staying up most the night with him.

“At the end of the day, it comes down to Reggie, Alex and you to make that decision. He’s never been a bad person, but maybe he felt like he wasn’t important. How many songs did he write?” You questioned your husband tentatively speaking to not spark his passionate anger.

You saw the annoyance in the crinkle of his nose and his eyebrows almost touching, but it didn’t take from the love in his eyes. With a sigh, he shifted Hudson to his embrace, tugging you to the spacious living room.

“If you look at it outside the band you have Stevie, Hudson and me. You have a family. Alex and Willie are connected at the hip. Reggie is with the band, volunteering at the kids centre, or with Ray.” It seemed it shifted something in Luke. His shoulders relaxed.

“The last few years have been pretty hectic.” Luke admitted watching as Stevie danced to the rock playing on the radio. Her little arms moving as if she was drumming.

Hudson shifted on Luke’s lap as you nestled into his side, watching the little loves you created with soft expressions. Stevie’s bright grin lighting up the room better than the natural light from the windows. The innocence she carried deep in her soul it felt like everything clicked into place.

“Daddy! Watch me!” Stevie giggled jumping as the song changed to Bittersweet by her grandfather Lance. The same song that played in the car accident back in ’96 that had a new meaning with having your own children.

It took a long time before Lance was able to pick up the guitar and perform; his lingering pain in his arm the cause. It took a few surgeries and physiotherapy along with relearning how to play before he performed Bittersweet. Lance performed for the first time live in your hospital room to his first grandchild.

“Whoo Stevie!” Reggie called from the front of the house. Behind him, Alex and Willie joined the same family.

“UNCLE ALEX!” Stevie shouted sprinting towards the tall blonde already crouching for the little girl.

The bond between Stevie and Alex was by far the cutest thing you had ever seen with how Stevie looked up at him. Alex would be the first to suggest tea parties and painting each other’s nails with newspaper for any spills. There wasn’t a better role model for Stevie to love. The bond was reminiscent of Uncle Jesse and Michelle from Full House.

“Ellie!” Alex shouted back swinging the little girl in his hug calling his unique nickname for her. He had taken to shortening her middle name; he really didn’t like when anyone else said it.

Peering over the pink sweater Stevie caught sight of Willie in the door, “Ready Uncle Alex?”

At Alex’s confusion, Stevie wandered over to the skater smiling at the sight of his partner with the little girl. Willie’s brow furrowed as the girl came over to him uncharacteristically.

“Hi.” Stevie spoke, playing with her little fingers, “How was your trip, Uncle Willie?”

A small gasp from both Willie and Alex at the new title given that Stevie was shy with the skater. Stevie had been very excited for her uncle to come back from the honeymoon so she could surprise them.

“What?”

“You married Uncle Alex. That means you’re my uncle now too. Can I call you that?” Stevie’s brows furrowed concentrating on the man with tears in his eyes. The room was silent at Willie collected himself.

“I’d love that Squirt.” Willie choked out when her little arms wrapped around his shoulders, “Learn any new tricks on the drums?”

“Not really! But I lost a tooth!” Stevie excitedly spoke dancing on the balls of her little feet in the kid-sized black vans.

“Oh! Ray wanted me to pass on that he and Rose are pregnant! Baby is a girl due next year.” Reggie gasped, remembering the announcement from lunch at the Molina house, “Ray’s pretty sure they’ll name her Julie.”

The little Patterson girl eagerly informed her uncles on everything that had happened since the dedication ceremony with Willie and Alex. Even the twenty-four hours since she saw Uncle Reggie before breaking out into the dance moves from her dance classes. Hudson now toddling after his older sister with a smile on his little face.

A twist of expressions appeased on the members of Sunset Curve at the same time spoke together. All thinking of a distant vision of a Puerto Rican girl with a blurry face and gorgeous voice.

“Julie Molina? I feel like I know that name?”

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

@safehavenmuse @siennanoelle01 @whiterose291 @mell-bell @blackhood5sos @ficrecsideblog @ifilwtmfc @deadpoolgirl23 @crappy-unicorn @sunsetcurve-h @elioelioeli0 @lovesanimals @popcrone818 @lolychu @deepsleepnat @tenaciousperfectionunknown @aunicornmademedoit @just-a-writer-here @simp4reggie @merceret @faithiebrock01 @overlyhypedup @differentsoulrascalsalad @aesthetic-lyss @versaceapa @carleywhittaker @lostgirl219 @itsalexx21 @elllaoo4 @merxxleighann @mediocremunge @fantomlovesjuke4ever @dpaccione @oswin05 @kaylinfayezink @aberette13 @faithie-brock-gillespie01 @eharvey0218 @overlyhypedup @benstormy @auriandthepussicats @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @whothefuckstolemykeds @kcd15 @siriuswvrld @princessvader15 @xoxbloodreinaxox @heimdoodle @joshy-obx @lovesanimals @oopsiedoopsie23 @am3l1a-24 @flying-solo-without-you @jaskiers-sweetkiss @lostrandomfangirln @must-be-a-weasley-92 @jatp-holland @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @dxlanhxlland @dasexydevitt13 @ifilwtmfc @arianagrandes-things @kinda-really-lost @marinettepotterandplagg @ssprayberrythings @morgandamrose @thedarkqueenofavalon @zukoshonourr @crybabyddl @spooky-season-bitch @kcd15 @morganayennefertyrell @magnet-girl @all-in-fangirl @kinda-really-lost @tenaciousperfectionunknown @badwolf00593 @blowakissbabe @talksoprettyjjx @thesweetestsinner @kaitieskidmore1 @writerinlearning @aiofheavenandhell @sageellsworth05 @link-102

#luke patterson imagines #julie and the phantoms imagines #jatp luke #luke patterson x reader #alive!luke patterson #charlie gillespie #caitsy and ash productions

215 notes · View notes

misskatebishop · 3 years

Text

For @winterironmonth day 6

Royal AU + Birthday

Tony was never the type of person who celebrates birthdays. He enjoys giving gifts to his friends on their birthdays, though. But he never actually celebrates his birthday himself. The fact is since he ascended the throne, the whole realm took the responsibility of celebrating the king’s birthday upon themselves.

King Stark found it adorable, in fact. Streets decorated just for his birthday, the news on the TV, and the dinner he will have later with many important guests. Queens and Kings from other countries, and presidents, ministers. Tony finds it all tiring. There’s only one person he would like to spend his birthday with.

Jarvis enters the room with another gift in his hand. Tony looks at the pile of gifts he had received. He doesn’t care about it. If he wasn’t the King, he would spend his birthday in his room, laid on bed with his lover.

“This one is from Senator Stern, sir,” Jarvis says.

Tony rolls his eyes, and Jarvis comes next to rearrange his tie.

“How’s everything down there?” Tony asks.

“Splendid, sir,” Jarvis replies, replacing the tie Tony was wearing for a bow tie. “It suits you better, sir.”

Tony turns to look at himself in the mirror. He looks good in that black suit. It would fit for the next three hours. Tony makes a silent pray for it to pass fast, so he could come back to the comfort of his room. Jarvis stands behind him, holding a crown.

“Has Lord Rogers arrived?” Tony asks while Jarvis makes sure that the crown is well arranged on his head.

“Yes, sir.”

“Is he alone or…?”

“He came with his wife, Lady Carter, and his knight, sir.”

Tony nods. His heart pounds inside his chest at the mention of James. God, he hadn’t seen James in quite a while as Rogers sent him on missions after the enemy, Hydra, an organization that has been boring Lord Rogers’ domains. However, they write often to each other, though he hadn’t received an answer for the last letter he had sent to Barnes. He hoped to get the chance to talk to him later.

Jarvis leads him outside. The guards bow as he passes through the decorated corridors. God, Pepper had really invested in the decoration. A guard announces his entry to the hall. The crowd turns their eyes to the King. Tony greets some people on his way to the center of the hall, but his eyes look for only one person. Tony feels a little disappointed when he finds Lady Carter talking to Lady Romanoff, and Lord Rogers talking to Doctor Banner on the other side of the hall.

Perhaps the knight Jarvis mentioned was Sam Wilson and not James. Tony prays that he’s wrong.

“Hey, happy birthday,” Rhodey says behind him.

Tony smiles.

“Thanks.”

“Big night, huh?”

“I hope so.”

As a matter of fact, Tony wasn’t interested in the party or what would happen after this annual dinner to celebrate the King’s life. He was only interested in James’ answer to him. In their last letter, Tony wrote that if his response was negative, then he’d leave him alone. He promised he would never go after Barnes ever again.

“Tony!” Pepper smiles, wearing a blue dress. She looks stunning. “Happy Birthday!”

“You already said that in the morning, Peps,” Tony says.

“I’m saying it again.”

“Okay. What about the dinnertime, Pepper?”

“Oh, you’ll have to wait a little longer. There are a lot of people wanting to talk to you.”

“Pepper--”

“No. Socialize. You’re good at it, then you can fake a headache and go back to your room,” she smiles sassily, her gaze going to the door where Barnes is hurrying to Rogers.

His heart skips a beat. James looks gorgeous as usual. His hair was perfectly combed. He shaved since Tony had seen him. That dark blue suit puts his blue eyes in evidence. James goes to Steve and whispers something to him, then the blond follows after him. James doesn’t even see him. Tony gulps, heartbroken. If his answer was ‘no’ Tony had to do as promised. He had to let James go.

Tony feels his heart breaks into little pieces, he tries his best to hide his disappointment during the party. Tony doesn’t know what he did wrong or why Barnes was refusing him, he only wishes he could go back in time and fix whatever mistake he had made. Lord Rogers returns alone to dinner.

Tony does exactly what Pepper told him to do. He has dinner, shows his guests a good time, talks about government accords and improvements, he even dances with Lady Van Dyne before he thanks all of them for coming and retiring to his room. Pepper, Rhodey, and Jarvis could handle the rest of the guests.

Tony went to his favorite room in the palace. It was filled with paintings of his ancestors along with historical facts about the Stark Kingdom. That wasn’t the only reason, of course. The balcony there gives him a clear view of the gardens his mother cared so much about. Tony watches the fireworks to celebrate his birthday, but that is the last thing he wants to care about now.

A tear slides down his left cheek, then the door opens, and steps approach.

“I said I wanna be alone, Jarvis,” Tony says, quickly wiping off the tears.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been wanting to talk to you the entire night,” James’s voice replies, making Tony turn around to see the man. “But if I’m bothering, then I’ll go,” James gives a step forward where Tony can clearly see him.

“No,” Tony hurries to say. “No, you are not. Of course not. I--I thought it was Jarvis.”

James comes to the balcony, standing by Tony’s side. He watches the view, and all Tony can watch is Sergeant James Barnes.

“I’m sorry for not staying at the party. Sir Barton had some urgent news about Hydra’s advance that required my attention,” James looks down, rubbing his metal hand on the other.

“It’s okay. I hope everything is fine, now,” Tony’s tone is uncertain. He heard about Hydra’s advance on the North.

“I hope it will be in a few weeks,” James says, though, by his tone, he knows that James is aware that Hydra will not stop. “Are you feeling okay? Miss Potts said--”

“I’m okay. I-I just wanted to sneak out of the party.”

James smiles, and that smile is capable of making Tony’s mood better.

“I’m sorry for not replying to your letter.”

“It’s fine, you’ve been busy,” Tony nods, startling when James takes his hand in his.

“I have a gift for you as well,” Tony smiles.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“It’s a very humble gift, actually,” James fixes Tony’s tie.

“What is it?” Tony asks, curious.

“It’s a yes,” James replies, grinning. Tony’s heart skips a beat because he knows what it means, and he can’t believe it. God, he was such a fool. “Yes, Tony. I’ll marry you.”

James cups his cheeks, pulling him to a kiss. Tony melts in his embrace. He can’t believe this is happening. How could he think that James didn’t love him when the soldier had told him a thousand times? Tony feels like an idiot, how could he be so blind? How could he believe that James would tell him ‘no’?

Tony can’t help the tears that stream down his face or the sob that eventually comes out when they pull apart.

“Don’t cry, doll,” James wipes off his tears, kissing his cheeks.

“They are happy tears,” Tony replies.

James wraps his arms around him, pulling him closer. Tony lays his head on his chest, listening to his heartbeats. He feels safe there. He feels love. And that’s all that matters.

"Best gift ever," Tony mumbles, and James laughs, placing a kiss on the top of his head.

#thaleia writes #i will make a long fic of it #winteriron #winteriron month #winteriron au #bucky barnes #tony stark #royal au #buckytony #moodboard

92 notes · View notes

foreverwcnter · 4 years

Text

cardigan / p.p

pairing: peter parker x stark!reader

summary: “you thought i was dead?” after you go missing with no leads to what happened, you are presumed dead and peter writes letters addressed to you, to help with his grief

word count: 3k

requested: no

warnings: semi character death, heartbreaking angst :( , fluff

a/n: this is for @ariistotles lovely writing challenge! i am using prompt 9 for my fic and i hope you guys enjoy!

two days. forty-eight hours. two thousand eighty minutes. one hundred seventy-two thousand, eight hundred seconds. that’s how long you had been missing. the team of avengers, including desperate peter parker sat around a table, staring at the very little evidence they had of your disappearance. it was only two nights ago when you and peter had been cuddled in bed and you had left to go home.

evidently, you never returned home.

peter ran his hands through his hair with frustration, eyes bloodshot red from crying. he was terrified and guilty, knowing if he had just walked you home, he wouldn’t be staring at the picture of you on the screen in front of him.

“we have no leads,” sam wilson stated,” the only evidence is this cardigan.”

peter knew you were wearing it when you left. he recognized the cute patches of stars scattered on the knitted sleeves and the oversized buttons along the ends. it was always so big on you, he didn’t think you would have bought it from that thrift store, but the moment you laid eyes on it, you fell in love with it. you had fixed up the holes and messed up seams, it looked like something someone would shove under a bed. but you took it into your care.

“she was wearing that after she left my apartment,” peter explained, voice cracking. the entire time he had been silent as they investigated your disappearance. “she almost forgot it but i reminded her.”

peter took a glance at the cardigan, instantly taking notice of the blood-stained sleeves.

“we have to find her,” he finally added, one tear slipping down his cheek. tony hadn’t spoken at all, and peter knew why. peter understood what it felt like to lose someone. there was a chance you’d be found again, but it was slim. you were just gone.

the next few days were hell for peter. they hadn’t found anything and all he wanted to believe was that you were at least alive. everyone around him seemed to be giving up already. peter had even overheard tony talking with the other avengers, thinking that you weren’t alive and he’d have to plan a funeral. peter refused to give up, he couldn’t believe the idea that you were dead. there was only a glimmer of hope left in some of the avengers. every day that passed, the more likely it was that you were dead. it wasn’t until two months of searching, they finally gave in.

tony kept the funeral private. it took everything in peter to just crawl out of bed that early morning and may had to help him tie the tie for his suit. his hands trembled too much to get it straight. he didn’t want to believe you were gone, but by this point, he was giving up himself. everything at the funeral was dark, the opposite of what you were like. you always had the brightest of smiles, your hair would always smell like fresh daisies from a meadow. everyone who gathered around was silent, staring at an empty casket, watching it get lowered into the ground.

peter found himself alone after the casket was six feet under and collapsed to his knees in front of the gravestone. tears openly fell down his face, as he stared at the name written on the stone. y/n stark. he wanted to stop making events like this so familiar. first his parents, then uncle ben. now you. the love of his life, the person he dreamed of marrying. some people see this as an unattainable fantasy because when you are young, they assume you know nothing. but peter was sure. you were supposed to be the one. his endgame. but you were gone.

a hand tapped his shoulder revealing the familiar face of tony stark. seeing him made peter fall apart as tony pulled him into a tight embrace. peter finally let it all out. with his shoulders shaking with sobs and soft cries leaving his breathless lips, peter parker was finally showing his grief.

grief was a fickle thing. it constantly changed. peter had been in such disbelief for the past months you were gone, but now he was trying to bargain with what happened. he gave his suit back to tony, he moved on from being spider-man, and tried living normally. he was trying to change himself for you. but it was hard. it took every amount of effort to bring himself out of his bedroom. the only thing that kept him going was the desire to do things you would want him to do. it didn’t take long for aunt may to take peter to a therapist. they could help him sort out the pain he was holding onto.

“tell me about her.”

“y/n was the perfect example of joy,” peter admitted with a desolate tone. “she was always looking to help anyone before herself. something she got from her dad. her hair always smelled amazing, like a garden almost. she liked to braid it, and stick flowers in it. y/n got the idea from tangled…” he paused, staring at the ground. he had planned a date before you went missing. he was going to take you to a lantern festival. where you could recreate the scene from tangled. peter knew how happy it would have made you. but you were gone. you’d never see the lanterns, you’d never live that dream.

“she had a cardigan… something she found at a thrift store, on the ground without a price tag. it had holes in the sleeves and she chose to patch them up with little stars. it was always too big on her, y/n always wore it with everything. i never saw her without it. she once forgot it when we left for a road trip, made me turn around to go get it for her but i was happy to,” a rare smile came onto peter’s face as he thought about the dimples on your cheek when he had put the cardigan around you. the smile faded,” it was the only thing they found when she went missing. it had blood on it and i know something bad happened.”

“i couldn’t stop it. i couldn’t save her.”

the woman in the chair across from him said nothing, just stared at peter as he avoided her gaze. after a couple moments, she began speaking,” you need to figure out a way to say goodbye to y/n. i understand how hard that may seem, but there are ways. i want you to write letters addressed to her. just start with something normal, you don’t have to address her death in the letter, just make it between you and her. the more you write these. the easier it’ll get to let go. “

peter stared at a blank piece of paper for hours that night. he didn’t know how to start. every time he picked up the pen his hand started shaking and he was too scared to write your name. with a frustrated groan, he jumped onto his bed, face buried in his hands. normally, peter would go to you to talk out his stress, to feel your arms around him but he couldn’t have that now.

that’s when he took notice of your cardigan hung on the corner of his bed frame. he took it into his hands, letting out a sigh. it was the only thing he had left out you. the only part of you that was left behind. so peter put it around himself, pulling his arms into the sleeves. it felt like you had your arms around him again and gave him the boost he had been looking for.

so he wrote:

my love y/n,

i don’t want to talk about you being gone yet, just let me have this moment to tell you the things i didn’t say. you were perfect. you are still perfect. i know that sees unbelievable to you, but every moment i shared with you, i cherished like a child would cherish a new toy.

except i never grew tired of you. you always came with new surprises. whether it was the time i thought you had never watched star wars and you admitted to being one of the biggest star wars nerds there is or the time i caught you crying to rom coms when we were friends, wishing you had that kind of romance. you were a hopeless romantic. mj said you were always looking for a disney prince of your own. i hope i was good enough to earn that title. i hope i gave you your dream love story. because every moment i spent with you was something exhilarating and i ever wanted to pass it up.

i just hope i was enough for you.

peter knew the letter was short, but he couldn’t bear to finish. tears marked the page with scratched out words and messy handwriting. he was supposed to write a letter every day. every day until he was able to say one word. goodbye.

slowly he started getting there. very slowly.

every day he wrote a new letter. they consistently got longer, but there were days it got short. he tried his best to avoid talking about you being gone. sometimes the letters were simple, saying i went to the grocery store for the first time in awhile. i saw your favorite snack and ended up buying it. i never liked it until now. i guess you influenced me so much.

there were harder days though. these days the paper would be stained with tears and may would come into his room and would find him crying. those letters always had the words “i miss you” and questioned why you had to go so soon.

there was only one thing he always did when he was writing these letters. he was always wearing your cardigan. he even began wearing it just around the house or to school. may never failed to notice and would wash it for him to wear the next day when peter forgot. having the cardigan around him made him feel comfortable and safe. almost like you were right with him. he even wore it to his second visit with the therapist, four months after your disappearance

“it’s getting easier to write the letters,” the brunette boy admitted, fiddling with the ends of the sleeves. “i’ve wrote so many already. it’s almost like i can still talk to her, even when she’s gone.”

the woman smiled. “that’s good peter.”

“but remember, the goal isn’t to hold on, you have to let go. you have to say goodbye.”

peter hated the sound of it. he couldn’t imagine a life without you in it, he couldn’t imagine moving on from you because every day he still missed you more than anything.

it took another six months for him to finally write a final letter. ten months after you had disappeared.

my love, y/n,

this isn’t an easy one to write. these past few months have been hell but i’ve rolled with the punches. i just left flowers at your gravestone. chrysanthemums, your favorites. it’s always been hard seeing your name on that stone and not seeing you next to me.

i miss every inch of you, y/n. i miss the feeling of your lips on mine and the tender kisses you’d press on my neck. i miss watching you fall asleep, i miss running my hand over your back while you snored. i miss seeing your beautiful face, the one that never failed to make me smile. every time i see a star wars movie come on, i’m reminded of your constant rants about padmé and anakin’s romance and how badass all the women of star wars are. i even still think about the day i met you. we were just kids, and you pushed over some other little kids for me. i think that was the day i knew you were important. it only just now dawned on me.

and the best part about you was when i felt like an old cardigan, under someone’s bed, you put me on and said i was your favorite. just like the one you used to always wear.

but i think the one thing i miss the most is just your voice. you always talked me to sleep on rough nights. it’s the same voice that got me through the trials of being a hero, the one that comforted me after hard patrols and nightmares. it was the one that sang ‘i can see the light’ from the lantern scene from tangled everytime we watched it. it’s the one i miss the most and i’d do anything to hear it again, y/n.

but for now, it’s your turn to listen to me. and listen closely. i love you. you were my soulmate and i still think you are. i loved you then. i love you now. and i’ll love you forever. we’ll see each other again, because you always come back to me. you’re my angel. my love. my dream. my soulmate. my darling. the love of my life. we’re meant to be together. i know one day we’ll find each other. and when we do… i’ll never let go of you again.

y/n stark, just do me a favor. keep on being you. wherever you are. i’ll keep on being me. i’ll carry on for you.

so now i just have to say one more word. one more word that isn’t forever because i know i’ll be with you. you’ll come back to me. i’ll come back to you. because loving you is like being drunk under a streetlight. it’s the thrill of living life and some kind of light near you. even without the light being right beside you. being in love with you is the best thing that has ever happened to me.

so here it is, y/n. here it is.

goodb-

peter was interrupted as he wrote, a hard knock from the door of the apartment. for a second, he waited, but it came again. it sounded urgent by how heavy it was and how frantically the person was knocking. he stumbled out of the chair, leaving the open letter on his desk as he fumbled with the lock. once it opened, peter had begun thinking he was dreaming.

because the person standing in front of the door, was you.

with his jaw slacking, peter rubbed his eyes trying to process what was in front of him. and to think he was about to write the word goodbye, and here you were, back from the dead. his eyes watered slightly as he opened his mouth to speak but no words came. he couldn’t comprehend the fact you were alive. “ y/n… no… how? how are you here? you were dead… this can’t be real.” everything hit him like an oncoming train, he was convinced he was dreaming or hallucinating. was this a test? was this testing him to see if he was actually prepared to say goodbye?

“you thought i was dead?”

this was what brought peter back to reality. he fell to his knees so fast in front of you, the tears falling down without a doubt as sobs left his thin lips, the ones you used to kiss. everything from the past few months came pouring out. “you were dead. everyone gave up and i didn’t want to but i did. i gave up, i failed you. i did the one thing you told me not to do because i was weak. and i couldn’t hold myself together at your funeral…” you knelt down as he sobbed and choked out every word, pulling him to your chest. “i wanted you to be the one to help me, but you weren’t there. you weren’t here to hug me before and i tried holding on for you. i tried and i thought i was never going to get over it and move on and i never did. i never did, y/n ,because i love you and you are the only person who will be constant in my life even if you were to fall out of love.”

“and i wrote you letters. i wrote you so many letters. i was writing one… just before you came… it was the last one, y/n, the one where i was going to say goodbye and now here you are,” peter’s arms wrapped around your waist pulling you closer.

“you don’t have to say goodbye anymore, pete,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of his head before he finally got a clear look at you. you looked no different than before. you had a a few bruises here and there, but you were alive. peter couldn’t believe just how much time passed and you were still the embodiment of beauty in his eyes.

a smile formed on his face, a dimple showing on his cheek,”i knew you’d come back to me.”

with that, he pressed his lips against yours, a hand moving up to cup your cheek as yours moved to his hair, running your hands through the messy brown curls. your lips were soft, just like they used to be and they tasted just like your favorite cherry chapstick that you used to always use. peter relished in the tender moment, butterflies coming alive in his stomach as he pressed his other hand on the small of your back. you both pulled away gently, eyes still closed with foreheads resting against each other.

“i love you,” you said gently, pressing a kiss to the tip of peter’s nose.

he returned it with his own, murmuring,” i love you more.”

his heart fluttered in the comfortable silence and the air still held the same amount of love and adoration for each other as it did before. peter never wanted to give it up and he never wanted to let it go. with the cardigan still wrapped around his shoulders and your arms around him, for the first time in months, peter finally remembered how it feels to be secure and safe.

you both finally stood up, fingers interlocked and right before you both headed inside, you glanced at peter and asked with a laugh:

“is that my cardigan?”

permanent taglist — @ariistotles @saturnpeter @skymoonandstardust @hey-its-grey @pufflypuffle @uglypastels @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @simi11 @abby-blxck @pxterbpxrker @euphoricmads @neverlandparker @fairytaleparker @dahliaspidey @thegirlwiththeimpala @pterprkr @cosmicholland @theamazingtomholland @xoxohollands @screamholland @beiroviski @sunflowerhollands

peter parker taglist — @myslightobsessions

390 notes · View notes

ragnarachael · 4 years

Note

57, 60 and 72?

i’m going to assume you’re letting me pick the character, and so i’ve decided on tva director!reader x loki from my series “the valiant arsonist”! you can check out/read from HERE!

LOKI TAGLIST: @shiningloki, @bellesque, @myraiswack, @kidney9-9, @deansblackbeauty (if you’d like to be added, just ask!!)

now if it wasn’t obvious: the text after the read more starts out somewhat PG, but progressively gets NSFW! as usual, don’t wanna see it from me, block the NSFT TEXT tag! just a warning, i... i got far too dirty i think. i don’t know how i did it. but i did. this is kinda not proofread, i’m far too tired for that. any mistakes or weirdly written scenes are on me!! i didn’t read this one four or five times to perfect it like everything else. (this is almost 4k. good christ.)

MASTERLIST ! FEEDBACK ! AO3 LINK !

THE VALIANT ARSONIST — ANGER

You and Loki were fighting. It’s plain as day to everyone in the offices when they approach the both of you. You were more of the silent, death glare type. Loki was... well. Loki was also the silent type. But, he just snapped at anyone who tried to talk to him and refused to try and cooperate.

It was Thursday. Meeting day not only for you and the board of directors that are working with the TVA, but also meeting day for Mills and Wilson’s team.

Which meant that Loki would be dressed up in his usual attire for those meetings: neat, crisp button down shirt, corresponding tie to the color of his shirt and more often than not followed by some black slacks.

Thursdays were your favorite days. Especially because of those slacks.

But since you were both still stuck in an argument, you found yourself leaving earlier for work like you had for the past week. Though, you did let yourself wear some flattering business casual clothes to try and convince Loki to break this stupid silence streak.

You wore his favorite pencil skirt—a deep emerald green fabric that nearly matched his favorite color if the fabric wasn’t a shade lighter—that was easily paired with your favorite cream colored blouse that accentuated your chest with the v-neckline. He loved the combo before, and you had no doubt he would try and pounce on you in some form.

But he didn’t. When he came in the office, you noticed he did the same thing as you.

He wore a whole black ensemble. Black shirt, black tie, black everything.

“Fuck,” you mumbled to yourself as you watched him walk through the sea of desks in the main area from your own private office. “That asshole.”

He’s trying to one up you at your own game. You don’t know if he’s read your mind or whatever, but god dammit he’s trying to do what you’re doing. You and your husband really are alike.

Most of your day after your mindless meeting was spent in your office, reading through files for research and answering various emails as well as reconvening with your team for your newest time-clause case. It was a full day. You even tried the new coffee someone brought in and actually had a few more cups of that before calling it quits just as everyone was leaving for the day.

“It looks like we’ll just have to send out some more Chronomonitors to give us more information on this situation,” one of your agents sighed in the seat she dragged in front of your desk. “I know none of us would want to go out into that battle field.”

You groaned as your hands flew to rub at your neck, leaning back to slouch in your office chair. “I hate when you’re right, Maddie.”

“I know you do,” she teased, grabbing her bottle of water to take a drink. “That’s why you made me one of your right hands, ‘member?”

You snorted and rolled your head in a slow circle, some of the tension loosening in your neck.

“I do recall. I’ll get on that order form before leaving tonight, Mads. Thank you for the hard work today, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Maddie laughed and gathered the files in her hands as she made sure to take the rest of her belongings that she had around your office. Your hands started to gently rub down your face before you heard the zip of Maddie’s bag.

Then the door opened, and Loki seemed to willingly walk in. His sleeves were folded up neatly to show off his forearms as his hand that wasn’t resting on the doorknob was tucked neatly into his pocket.

“Maddie,” he greeted evenly, his eyes boring into your general direction as you started to slowly straighten in your seat from the sudden visit.

“Uh,” she started slowly, looking between the two of you as you both stared off. “Mr. Laufeyson—”

“Loki, please.” He kept his eyes on you as the tension grew, moving to open the door wider for Maddie to leave. “I’m merely a man visiting his wife. Not a higher-ranking agent.”

“Okay?” Maddie questioned softly before getting her things in her hands and her bag on her back before giving you one last goodbye before Loki was quick to shut the door behind her and lock it.

“We need to talk.”

“Oh,” you started, snorting as you watched Loki gracefully move to shut your blinds even though you’re more than sure you’re the last two in the office. “Now he wants to talk.”

“Don’t start that,” Loki replied, his head turning from the string to fix your blinds.

“You and I haven’t talked in two days,” you huffed. “I’ll start whatever the fuck I want, Loki.”

Loki didn’t wince when he finally shut the blinds. He didn’t even retaliate with his down distaste for what you were both about to start.

The making up process.

He walked over to the chair Maddie had left in front of your desk, his large hands moving to rest on the top of the backrest as his eyes found yours again.

“Maybe if you hadn’t tried to get yourself killed, we wouldn’t be in this situation, would we?” Loki said, his voice having a light tone of smug anger.

“My job is dangerous, Loki. We’ve been over this—”

“You’re a director, darling. Directors just have to sit and give their agents direction,” he explained to you, his voice raising slightly. “They don’t willingly go out into the field and just try to get shot at!”

“I owed it to my team—”

“You could have stayed here! Behind a desk! There is no reason to risk your life!”

“Oh don’t go feeding me that shit,” you seethed, starting to stand from your chair. You wanted to pace, but your feet guided you to stand against the front of your desk as your fingers clasped together tightly. “You get to risk your life and I don’t? That’s the biggest load of garbage I’ve heard, coming from you of all people.”

“That’s different,” Loki rebutted. “I have to go into the field. That is my job. That’s what I’ve done since I’ve been incarcerated at this trash heap.”

“You’re no longer wanted across timelines, Loki.” You crossed your arms over your chest then. “You haven’t been for a year and seven months. And I am aware it’s your job, but haven’t you considered that it’s mine—”

“’To protect and guide your agents by example,’” Loki finished for you as his hands flew from the chair to run through his hair as he took a moment to walk away from where you were now standing. “I’m aware. You’ve said the phrase before.”

“Good. Then you’ll understand when I say that you’re blowing this out of proportions.”

His whole body turned to look at you as his hands fell to his sides. “Pardon me?”

“You heard me.” You kept your face neutral at that sentence. It hurt to say, but you couldn’t show that. “You’re blowing this out of proportion.”

Now, Loki can be terrifying. He certainly was when he made his way from the middle of the room back to you as you leaned against the edge of your desk, not even flinching when his magic sent the chair flying to the wall.

You wished this scared you. But you’ve known this man since he threatened to burn your place of work. You took what he did, hell even said at times, with a grain of salt.

“I am not—”

“Loki,” you hissed, your hands moving from their place on your chest to grab at his black silk tie, wrapping it around your knuckles before yanking his face close to your own. “You are. Admit it.”

“Make me, little girl.”

You couldn’t take the tension and finally just did what your brain had been screaming at you to do while you talked to Loki.

Kiss him.

So, that’s damn well what you did. Your lips slammed into his instantly, tongue slipping past Loki’s slightly parted lips to take the venomous words he was preparing to say away.

The funny part? Loki kissed back.

So much for being mad with each other.

Loki let everything else in his body resist for a moment before he finally just gave in, his hands cupping your sides almost immediately, starting to dominate your mouth with his tongue as you melted at the feeling of your desk digging into your ass through your clothes for the second time this month.

“You’re—” you breathed out between Loki’s assault “—you’re so fucking hot when you’re mad. You know that?”

The hum of a laugh Loki let out at this confession only made the heat between your legs increase, your heart race and your mind buzz from the sudden concern of someone hearing the two of you.

“Oh, darling. You have no idea what you’ve brought on.”

You wanted to ask what the fuck he was talking about, but you were cut short by his lips again, his hands working on groping your ass through your skirt fabric before lifting you up as if you were nothing before dropping you onto your desktop.

Your hands let go of the tie and the gasp that left your kiss bruised lips as Loki started to nip harshly at your jawline cut into a bit of a squeak as Loki’s fingers started to drag against the outsides of your thighs that were covered by the fabric of your skirt. Your brain made the connection quick. He was looking for the side seams. You just knew it.

“My little girl’s smart, is she?” Loki mused deviously as his lips detached from your skin, his fingers finding just what he was looking for. “She’s only smart when she knows she’s going to get cock, hm?”

Your face heated up instantly as you noted that Loki wasn't hesitating to openly listen to your thoughts. You were... you were speechless. Your hands found their spots on his chest, debating on grabbing his tie again.

“Bold of you to assume you’ll be getting any this evening,” Loki said softly, his eyes scanning your face to see if there was any sign of protest before smoothly grabbing your skirt fabric and ripping it up at the seams.

“Loki!”

“Perhaps a punishment is in order.” Once the fabric was discarded from the tops of your legs, Loki was quick to tug the rest of the poor fabric off your body before ripping your legs open and get a hand under the waistband of your underwear. “You’ve been quite bad, last I checked.”

All you could reply with was stutters. You didn’t plan on this half of the night, but god you didn’t need it to end.

You didn’t want it to end.

Loki cooed as his fingers found your aching clit, applying barely any pressure that was sure to drive you insane. “Look at you, a babbling mess. You thought you had the upper hand, didn’t you?”

“I—” Your words were cut off as two of his thick, long fingers thrusted into your weeping hole, your hands trying to collect fist fulls of Loki’s shirt. “Oh god.”

“Fuck,” Loki started headily, “you’re so tight. No wonder you’re missing my cock.”

You didn’t hesitate to pull your hands from his shirt and lay back on the desk to try enticing Loki to do something other than have his fingers deep inside your pussy, just barely touching your g-spot. “P-Please..”

“Only good girls get what they ask for, princess. And you’ve been everything but that.”

Just after Loki finished speaking, he finally moved his middle and ring fingers slowly. You could feel the gentle, cold scrape of his wedding band against your warm walls as his free hand boldly slid up your stomach and keep you flat against the surface of your desk.

“Making me worry, telling me that I’m in the wrong? No, no, little one. You and I know that’s not true,” Loki said, his hand finally lunging forwards to grab your throat firmly and lift you up to have your faces inches away from each other again. “If I weren’t feeling generous I would just ignore you and those dirty thoughts of yours. You’ve thought about this happening often this week, haven’t you? Taking my thick cock like it’s the first time as I take my anger out on your sweet, sweet body?”

You could only nod frantically in response, the feeling of not being able to get air sending another gush of arousal around the fingers that were starting to prod the soft part of your walls just a tad faster. Loki let out a dark chuckle.

“Dirty, dirty little cockslut, aren’t you? Maybe I should start calling you that. Do you like that name, dove? I do. I feel as if it suits you perfectly,” Loki purred, pressing his lips to yours again as his fingers slipped out of your pussy, tugging at the scrap of underwear to have it snap in his hands before his lips pulled away from your own. “Take my cock out, girl.”

You were quick to rake your hands down from Loki’s wrist from when he grabbed your throat to his slacks, unbuckling his belt and working the button and zipper before being met with his heated skin beneath the fabric.

He planned this.

Loki’s hand loosened its grip on your throat as your fingers brushed against the shaft of his cock. He cleared his throat to gain your attention after you gripped him at the base.

“Is.. Is this alright? I know I'm meant to be mad at you—"

You surged forward and gave Loki a gentle kiss on the lips instantly to quell his sudden worry. "Loki, my love. You're okay. It's okay. We can talk it out properly later."

"Are you okay with that?" Loki questioned, brows raised slightly. It was a complete change from the dominant side he was showing just mere seconds ago. You felt your heart clench as you noticed his genuine concern.

"Yes, absolutely. I'm okay with that." You gave him a wide smile before tugging his cock in your hand suddenly to draw a gasp from his throat. "Now, what was this about me being your cockslut? I quite like the ring to it."

His lips slowly stretched into a smirk once he took a moment to let go of the sudden surge of worry. "Do you?"

"Why would I lie about how much I love your thick cock stretching me open—"

Loki cut you off with a groan, tightening his grip on your neck gently, "if you keep saying things like that, I'll be skipping the punishment. Now shut up and lay on your stomach."

You let out a breathy giggle then, your smile still wide and bright as you were quick to do as Loki told you. You wanted to whine when you felt his hand move from your throat to help you flip over, but you knew better than to do that now.

After all, you were getting punished in some way.

"Why don't you just skip it, agent?" You questioned innocently as you leaned your ass closer to Loki as his hands rubbed at your lower back gently. "We both know I can get punished later."

Loki seemed to actually take your words into consideration as his hands got to your ass, groping the plump flesh tightly before spreading you open to see just how wet you were. His nails dug into your skin slightly which made you mewl in pleasure before Loki let out a harsh sigh.

"You're such a—"

"Cockslut?" You questioned suddenly, flashing your smile over your shoulder as you looked at Loki. "I'm aware."

"Minx," Loki huffed, pulling your hips down so your hips hung over the edge of your desk. "Should have ignored my thoughts for once."

"I like when you tap out," you replied, gasping as Loki manhandled one of your legs to rest up on the desktop. "'S hot."

"Like I said, darling." You weren't sure as to what was happening until you heard some clanking from a belt and felt his searing hot cock thrust into your cunt without giving you a warning. He leaned down where your head rested against the mahogany as you moaned loudly at the sudden intrusion. "Cockslut."

Once he spoke, Loki didn't waste any time to thrust into your pussy that was clenching around his cock like a vice. He made a comment about not even being able to thrust into you from how tight your cunt had a hold on him, and if you were coherent, you'd be blushing from those words and the sounds you were hearing the both of you make alone. But you were enjoying the pleasure that had started to steadily build from the feeling of Loki's cock stretching you open.

You missed fucking Loki. That's what this was.

Loki was nothing less than animalistic, gripping your hips tight enough you knew you'd be bruised by the time you came. You could feel your orgasam creeping up already.

"Look at you," Loki said in between his slowing thrusts to tease you. "Spread out. Willing. You were made for this, darling. Maybe I should keep your cunt filled up more often."

"Please!" You whimpered, your head turning to look over your shoulder to watch Loki's hips slowly thrust against your ass.

"You'd love that, hm? Should I cum in your pussy tonight and let you walk out of here sated with my seed?"

The both of you froze at that comment.

Well, your bodies froze, for the most part. Your pussy flexed around his cock that twitched with need.

He wasn't too sure what had gotten into him, it might have been from the porn he found himself watching the other night when you didn't come home until late, if he was being honest. But noticing how you writhed and let out a loud moan come out after the initial shock statement, that was all the convincing he needed to finally pull out of you to flip you back over before slamming back into your cunt with the sudden need to actually fulfill that very wish.

Because fuck that turned the both of you on, and he wanted—no, needed to see your pussy dripping with his cum.

Loki's body covered your own as his hips pistoned into your own, his cock hitting all the spots you've missed feeling stimulated as your arms wrapped around his neck to bring him down in a heated kiss. Your lips barely met and you let out a shaky laugh before it was cut out with a loud moan, feeling Loki's cock jab at your g-spot head on.

You wrapped your legs around him the best you could then, moaning his name as your nails started to dig in his dress shirt. "F-Fuck! Loki, p-please!"

"Please what, baby?" He questioned evenly as he pulled away from your neck where his head landed after his lips missed your own. "You want to cum on my cock?"

All you could manage was a nod as Loki's hand slipped between your bodies to start rolling your clit between his fingers. His thrusting seemed to only speed up with his words as you tried to keep your noises down as our mouth dropped open in a perfect 'o' shape. "Cum for me. Let that pretty little pussy cum around my cock and I'll be sure to reward you the way you deserve, sweetheart."

You let yourself go. Literally. Loki's fingers rubbing your clit frantically mixed with his deep, heated thrusts? There was no other choice. Your walls tensed around his cock as your hands grabbed tight handfuls of his shirt, moaning loudly as your orgasam rocked your entire body into ecstasy. Your body twitched with pleasure as Loki kept fucking into you with the same breakneck speed, his fingers slowing down slightly.

"So fucking good," Loki huffed as his hips stuttered with their thrusts, "are you sure we shouldn't invest in our own desk?"

"S-Shut the hell up, Laufeyson," you stuttered suddenly, purposefully gyrating your hips to have your pussy clench around Loki's twitching cock. "Cum inside me, now."

Usually, Loki would laugh at you being demanding, especially in a moment like this, but the hard edge of your voice mixed with the noises his cock was making with every thrust inside of you? He was cumming. Hard. He came with a final deep thrust, groaning your name loudly as his hands grabbed at your body in any way possible to ground him from the sensation. His cum was hot as his hips jerked slightly from the left over sensations.

You've never felt so full and satisfied after a fuck in your office until tonight. You heard Loki laugh breathlessly and you just knew he heard your thoughts. The two of you took a moment to catch your breath in the positions you were left in after your release, both of your remaining clothes clinging to your sweaty skin.

Eventually, Loki found himself slowly pulling his softened cock from your spent hole, only to watch his cum dribble out slowly. You both groaned. Both from the sight and the sensation when he had finally pulled out. Part of you wanted to keep the mess between your legs, terribly bad. But your rational side and Loki agreed that you should most likely get cleaned up. With a gentle huff you nodded at Loki to magic away the mess.

It was quiet as you both tried to move around your office to clean up the rest of the space properly. The tension was... gone. Not completely, but certainly less taxing than it was earlier. You walking around bottomless around Loki however wasn't helping either of you.

You were the first to speak up as you picked up your shredded skirt and underwear.

"That was—"

"Hot," Loki finished for you immediately. "That was.. so fucking hot."

"Yeah," you said, laughing softly. "It was."

"Listen, darling," Loki started gently, walking away from the chair he placed back in it's rightful spot, "I'm sorry that I've been mad about this. At you."

"You had every right to be, Loki. I didn't tell you the risk I was going to take, I didn't want you to worry all day." You turned to look at him, a small frown on your face. "I kind of broke that agreement. I'm sorry."

Loki's hands were quick to cup your face gently as he shook his head. "What am I to do with you?"

"Well, some pants would be a good start—"

"Shush," Loki snorted, the both of you shaking with laughter. "I'll get there with you, you vixen."

#nsft text #loki x reader #loki laufeyson imagine #loki odinson #loki layfeyson x reader #loki laufeyson smut #loki odinson x reader #loki odinson imagine #loki odinson smut #loki smut #marvel smut #rachael writes #marvel imagine #TVA #tom hiddleston smut

177 notes · View notes

multiverseforger · 3 years

Text

Edit

In November 2013, Marvel Comics announced that Kamala Khan, a teenage American Muslim from Jersey City, New Jersey, would take over the comic book series Ms. Marvel beginning in February 2014. The series, written by G. Willow Wilson and drawn by Adrian Alphona, marked the first time a Muslim character headlined a book at Marvel Comics.[2] However, Noelene Clark of the Los Angeles Times noted that Khan is not the first Muslim character in comic books, which include Simon Baz, Dust and M.[3] The conception of Kamala Khan came about during a conversation between Marvel editors Sana Amanat and Stephen Wacker. Amanat said, "I was telling him [Wacker] some crazy anecdote about my childhood, growing up as a Muslim American. He found it hilarious." The pair then told Wilson about the concept and Wilson became eager to jump aboard the project.[4] Amanat said that the series came from a "desire to explore the Muslim-American diaspora from an authentic perspective."[5]

Artist Jamie McKelvie based Khan's design on his redesign of Carol Danvers as Captain Marvel and on Dave Cockrum's design of the original Ms. Marvel.[6] Amanat requested that the design "reflected the Captain Marvel legacy, and also her story and her background."[7] Amanat stated that Khan's costume was influenced by the shalwar kameez. They wanted the costume to represent her cultural identity, but did not want her to wear a hijab,[8] because the majority of teenage Pakistani-American girls do not wear one.[9] Amanat also stated that they wanted the character to look "less like a sex siren" to appeal to a more vocal female readership.[8]

Marvel knew that they wanted a young Muslim girl, but stated that she could be from any place of origin and have any background. Wilson initially considered making her an Arab girl from Dearborn, Michigan but ultimately chose to create a Desi girl from Jersey City.[10] Jersey City, which sits across the Hudson River from Manhattan, has been referred to as New York City's "Sixth borough".[11][12][13] It therefore forms an important part of Khan's identity and the narrative journey of her character since most of Marvel Comics' stories are set in Manhattan. Wilson explains, "A huge aspect of Ms. Marvel is being a 'second string hero' in the 'second string city' and having to struggle out of the pathos and emotion that can give a person."[14]

The series not only explores Khan's conflicts with supervillains but also explores conflicts with Khan's home and religious duties. Wilson, a convert to Islam, said "This is not evangelism. It was really important for me to portray Kamala as someone who is struggling with her faith." Wilson continued, "Her brother is extremely conservative, her mom is paranoid that she's going to touch a boy and get pregnant, and her father wants her to concentrate on her studies and become a doctor."[4] Amanat added,

As much as Islam is a part of Kamala's identity, this book isn't preaching about religion or the Islamic faith in particular. It's about what happens when you struggle with the labels imposed on you, and how that forms your sense of self. It's a struggle we've all faced in one form or another, and isn't just particular to Kamala because she's Muslim. Her religion is just one aspect of the many ways she defines herself.[2]

First appearance of Kamala Khan from Captain Marvel #14 (August 2013) by Kelly Sue DeConnick and Scott Hepburn

In the series, Khan takes the name Ms. Marvel from Carol Danvers, who now goes by the alias Captain Marvel. Captain Marvel writer Kelly Sue DeConnick revealed that Khan actually made a brief appearance in Captain Marvel #14 (August 2013) saying, "Kamala is in the background of a scene in Captain Marvel 14 ... She is very deliberately placed in a position where she sees Carol protecting civilians from Yon-Rogg."[15] According to Wilson, Khan idolizes Carol so when Khan acquires superhuman abilities, she emulates Danvers.[14] "Captain Marvel represents an ideal that Kamala pines for. She's strong, beautiful and doesn't have any of the baggage of being Pakistani and 'different,'"[4] Wilson explained. "Khan is a big comic book fan and after she discovers her superhuman power – being a polymorph and able to lengthen her arms and legs and change her shape – she takes on the name of Ms. Marvel," Amanat elaborated.[16] Khan is one of several characters who discover that they have Inhuman heritage following the "Inhumanity" storyline, in which the Terrigen Mists are released throughout the world and activate dormant Inhuman cells.[17]

In the series' first story arc, Khan faces off against Mr. Edison / the Inventor, an amalgam of man and bird. Wilson created the Inventor to be Khan's first arch rival in order to mirror Khan's own complexity. Wilson characterizes the Inventor, and the overall visual look of the opening story arc as "kooky and almost Miyazaki-esque at times", owing to the art style of illustrator Adrian Alphona, which balances the drama of the threats which Khan faces with the humor of Alphona's "tongue in cheek sight gags." During the storyline, Khan also teams-up with the X-Man Wolverine against the Inventor. Because Wolverine is dealing with the loss of his healing factor during this time, Khan is placed in the position of having to shoulder much of the responsibilities, as Wilson felt this was a role reversal that would subvert reader expectations that Wolverine would take the lead in such a team-up.[18]

At the 2014 San Diego Comic-Con International, writer Dan Slott announced that Khan would team-up with Spider-Man beginning in The Amazing Spider-Man #7 (October 2014) during the "Spider-Verse" storyline. Slott characterized Khan "the closest character to classic Peter Parker,"[19] explaining, "She's a teenage superhero, juggling her life, making mistakes, trying to do everything right."[20]

Beginning in June 2015, Ms. Marvel tied into the "Secret Wars" crossover event with the "Last Days" storyline, which details Khan's account of the end of the Marvel Universe. Wilson explained, "In the 'Last Days' story arc, Kamala has to grapple with the end of everything she knows, and discover what it means to be a hero when your whole world is on the line."[21] In the storyline, Khan rushes to deal with the threat in Manhattan. However, Wilson revealed, "She will face a very personal enemy as the chaos in Manhattan spills over into Jersey City, and she will be forced to make some very difficult choices. There will also be a very special guest appearance by a superhero Kamala—and the fans—have been waiting to meet for a long time."[22]

In March 2015, Marvel announced that Khan will join the Avengers in All-New All-Different Avengers FCBD (May 2015) by writer Mark Waid and artists Adam Kubert and Mahmud Asrar, which takes place in the aftermath of "Secret Wars".[23] A second volume of Ms. Marvel starring Khan by Wilson, Alphona and Takeshi Miyazawa is also debuted following "Secret Wars" as part of Marvel's All-New, All-Different Marvel initiative.[24] Amanat said,

By the time this new launch comes around, it will have been almost two years since the premiere of Ms. Marvel—and boy, has Kamala Khan been through a lot since then. She's been slowly coming into her own, dealing with the challenges of navigating adulthood and being a super hero. But her training is over now and it's time for the big leagues; the question is can she handle it? ... As much as Kamala has a right to be there—it's still a bit of a culture shock. Dreaming of being an Avenger and then suddenly being one is a lot to take on for someone of her age. So, she'll be a little awestruck, a little overly ambitious.[25]

In March 2016, Marvel announced that Ms. Marvel would tie into the "Civil War II" storyline by releasing a promotional image illustrating a rift between Khan and Danvers.[26] "While "Civil War II" may have initiated this rift, we've known for some time that Kamala would eventually need to separate herself from her idols. Her journey centers around self-discovery and identity, and a part of that exploration includes separating yourself from those you put on pedestals. The rift between Carol and Kamala doesn't really have to do with right and wrong. It has to do with growing up and realizing that you perceive the world differently from even the ones you love," Amanat elaborated.[27]

In July, Marvel announced that Khan will join the Champions, a team of teenage superheroes who split off from the Avengers following the conclusion of "Civil War II". The team, featured in a series by writer Mark Waid and artist Humberto Ramos, consists of Khan, Spider-Man (Miles Morales), Nova (Sam Alexander), Hulk (Amadeus Cho), Viv Vision, and a teenage version of Cyclops. Waid said, "The first three are the kids who quit the Avengers proper. That was an easy get. Those three, in and of themselves, form a nice little subteam. Their dynamic is great. They all show up in each other's books, and even though they have their arguments and stress points, clearly they're good together."[28]

In August, Khan made an appearance in Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur #10 by writers Amy Reeder and Brandon Montclare. In the issue, Khan acts as a mentor to Moon Girl (Lunella Lafayette) who is also a young Inhuman that suddenly came into her powers. Amanat stated that Khan sees much of herself in Lafayette and by teaching her, Khan learns much about herself.[27]

In November, Marvel announced that Khan will join a new incarnation of the Secret Warriors in a series by writer Matthew Rosenberg and artist Javier Garron that debuted in May 2017. The team, formed in the wake of the "Inhumans vs X-Men" storyline, also includes Quake, Karnak, Moon Girl, and Devil Dinosaur. Rosenberg stated that there is some conflict and friction amongst the team members explaining, "Ms. Marvel and Quake are really fighting for the soul of the team in a lot of ways, while Moon Girl will continue to really do her own thing. They will all be tested and challenged, they are superheroes after all, but they are going to do things their way."[29]

In March 2017, Marvel announced that Khan would team-up with Danvers in a one-shot issue of the limited anthology series, Generations by Wilson and Paolo Villanelle. Wilson stated that the issue would explore Danvers' and Khan's mentor–student relationship, but "at its heart, [it] is about growing up, and a big part of growing up is discovering that your idols have feet of clay – and forgiving them for their flaws as you gain an adult understanding of your own."[30]

In December, Ms. Marvel began the "Teenage Wasteland" story arc, as part of the Marvel Legacy relaunch. Wilson said, "Since the events of 'Civil War II', there's been friction between Kamala and her mentor, Captain Marvel. In this arc, we're exploring how complicated legacies can be when they're passed from generation to generation ... She's questioning a lot about herself and her mission. Her friends end up stepping into some very important—and unexpected—roles. So in a sense, the arc is really about a bunch of chronically under-estimated teenagers who pull together to fight evil."[31]

Ms. Marvel #31, the 50th issue of Ms. Marvel featuring Khan was released in June 2018. To mark the occasion, Marvel brought in additional collaborators for the issue including writers: G. Willow Wilson, Saladin Ahmed, Rainbow Rowell, and Hasan Minhaj; and artists: Nico Leon, Bob Quinn, Gustavo Duarte, and Elmo Bondoc.[32]

Beginning in March 2019, Khan headlined a new series titled, The Magnificent Ms. Marvel, written by Ahmed and illustrated by Minkyu Jung. Wilson stated that she had been planning her departure from the series for over a year, stating that she originally anticipated that the series would only last for ten issues and was excited by the fact that she had written 60 issues. Ahmed said the new series will have much wider scope, "while still maintaining that intimate tone that people have loved about it."[33]

In July 2020, Marvel announced that Khan would star in an original graphic novel, published in conjunction with Scholastic and aimed at younger readers. The book will be written by author Nadia Shammas. An illustrator has not yet been named.[34

25 notes · View notes

urlikeacankersore · 4 years

Text

Royalty (Ethan Nestor x Reader)

an/ there will be a part two💜

Requested: no

Summary: Princess Y/n and Prince Ethan are having an arranged marriage, set up by their Parents of course, King and Queen of Cranken Ethan’s kingdom, and King and Queen of Crewton your kingdom.

Reader: female

Paring: Ethan Nestor x reader

“James, I don’t want to go, I don’t want to get married because of some stupid tradition!” I shout to my twin brother, James Wilson, the next King of Crewton. I would much rather stay here and become the next Queen of Crewton and stay Y/n Wilson, but nope, I have to go marry the prince of the next kingdom, something Nestor.

“I know, but you’ve been betrothed for nearly six months, I’m not sure why you’re so surprised,” My brother replies.

“You’re no help!” I complain plopping myself down in one of the chairs.

“You never asked for help,” He shrugs back in reply and walks out of the spacious room.

I can believe they’re making me stay in the Cranken Kingdom for the remaining two months before the wedding, it’s stupid. I would much rather marry for love over some dumb tradition. Like the new King of Iplier Kingdom, he married the beautiful now Queen out of love, and she was just a middle class noble.

“Y/n?” Came the soft voice of my younger sister bringing me from my unimpressed thoughts.

“In here Rina,” I say straightening my poster in the chair.

“Emmy said we’re going to Cranken Kingdom tomorrow, do you know why?” She asks walking over to my chair, her light brown hair in nearly perfect ringlets falling over her delicate shoulders.

“Well, I’m betrothed to the Prince of Cranken, meaning that he and I are gonna get married in two months' time. I’ve been invited to stay for the remaining of time before the wedding,” I say calmly not trying to show her that I don’t want to marry him.

“But I’m gonna miss you!” she says her small voice cracking slightly

“It’s gonna be okay Rina, don’t worry. I’ll send you letters and try my very hardest to visit,” I say giving her a hug and whipping the tear that fell down her pale cheek.

“Promise?” She asks looking at me.

“I promise,” I say, giving her another hug.

“Lady Irene, I’ve been sent to put you to bed,” says the sudden voice of her servant, Emily.

“But Simon I want to stay up!” she says as she pulls away from the hug.

“It’s your mother's order that you go to bed at 8:30, I believe Lady Y/n should be getting to bed too. Your family has a big day tomorrow,” she says looking at me keeping her poster straight as she stands by the big doors.

“Fine,” Irene grumbles walking towards Emily who also walks out of the room.

“Lady Y/n,” says the soft voice of Darcie, my servant or nanny, either way she raised me.

“Yes Darcie?” I say looking at her kind old eyes.

“Your mother has sent to escort you to your room,” She says kindly.

“I will walk myself, thank you Darcie. You’re dismissed for the night,” I say standing up from the chair and walking towards the door.

“Have a good night Princess Y/n,” She says turning and walking towards her quarters on the opposite side of the castle.

----

“Y/n! Hurry wake up! I want you to do my hair!” Says the voice of Rina to the right of my bed.

“Lady Irene, you could have asked me if you’d like,” Says the voice of Darcie as well as the sound of the door opening.

“I know Darcie, but I like the way Y/n brushes my hair!” she says in reply.

“Thank you Darcie, please come get me when it's breakfast time,” I say sitting up, once again dismissing Darcie.

“So, Y/n, will you please do my hair?” Rina asks again, looking at me with puppy dog eyes.

“Of course I will, please go grab your brush,” I say sitting up and smoothing the skirt of my nightgown. Irene hurry out of the room, her flowy purple night dress going behind her.

Irene returns moments later with her silver brush with her name engraved into it. “Y/n, are you gonna have to pack any bags?” she asks as she turns around handing me the prush.

“I was told not to, I’m guessing that they will have everything I will need,” I say starting to brush a new strand of her hair.

“Oh,” she says quietly.

“After I’m done brushing your hair you should let me put it in a braid,” I say brushing another strand.

“Deal,” she says laughing.

“What color of dress are you wearing today?” I ask.

“I was thinking I should wear blue since it matches their Kingdom colors,” she shrugs as I finish brushing her hair and start on the braid.

“Yeah, that would look nice, I could let you borrow my blue bow if you’d like,” I say as she turn towards me.

“Really?” she asks excitedly, she’s always had a special liking for the blue bow I have.

“Yes really. Now go get dressed and I will give you the bow when you’re back,” I say patting her shoulders.

She quickly climbs off my bed and runs towards the door. After she leaves I get off my bed and walk to my small closet full of different colored dresses. Looking in my eyes go straight to the purple one with short sleeves. I quickly grab it off the hanger and slip off my night dress, exchanging it for the purple one in my hands.

“Wow! Y/n I love your dress, it's so pretty!” the eight year old says, just like she does every time I wear this dress.

“Thank you Rina,” I say, grabbing the ribbon I use to make the blue bow with. Once Rina notices I have the ribbon in my hand she quickly turns around so I can tie it at the end of her braid.

“Lady Y/n and Irene, I’ve been sent to tell you to wash up for Breakfast,” come the soft voice of Darcie after a knock on my door.

“Yes of course, thank you Darcie,” I say dismissing her.

“I’m gonna go wash my hands, you should brush your hair,” Irene says as she turns around and brushes some of my hair off my shoulder and walks out of my room.

I turn around to the vanity in my room next to the mirror and grab the gold brush with my name engraved on the back of it, along with the family crest. I quickly brush my hair and walk to the bathroom that is also connected to my room and quickly wash my hands in the sink.

Just as I walk out of my room I see Darcie waiting for me by the stairs. “Hello Darcie,” I greet as I walk towards the stairs, Darcie of course following.

“It’s a shame to see you go Lady Y/n, you will be greatly missed,” she says as she walks behind me on the stairs.

“I know, I will of course miss you and try to write as often as possible, plus it won't be forever, I’ll be back for James wedding,” I say with a smile turning around to glance at the lady who raised me.

“Miss Y/n, please look forward when you walk down the stairs, I don’t want you to slip,” she says with a kind smile.

“Of course Darcie,” I say turning around for the last few steps, then taking a right down the hall to the doors to the big dining room.

Walking in I quickly take my seat at my usual spot, right in between James and Irene.

“Thank you for joining us, Y/n,” my mother says looking at you with a stern look.

“Sorry for being late, my hair was a bit more ratted than anticipated,” I say looking down at my lap.

“It’s fine,” my father says, loading food onto his plate, “You kids may start.”

“So Y/n, are you excited to go to Cranken today?” my Father asks, looking up from his glass.

“Yes father, I think it will be a great experience,” I say, lying.

“I’m glad you’re excited, I hear Prince Nestor is a fine young man,” He says nodding.

“James, Melanie should be here in two weeks to stay, I believe you two will get along great,” My mother says looking at my brother.

“I do too, she has sent me a few letters, she seems very kind,” James says with a smile.

“What time do we leave?” Rina asks from beside me.

“We leave immediately after we finnish eating, they are getting the carriage ready as we speak,” My Father says looking up at Irene.

“Yay,” I mutter under my breath sarcastically.

Breakfast finishes quickly, mainly keeping the conversation about how James and I are being sent off for marriage, well me mainly being sent off for marriage, James getting to stay.

“Mother, may I say goodbye to Darcie?” I say as I realise this is the last time I’ll see her for a while.

My mother nods and continues walking towards the door.

“Lady Y/n, it has been a pleasure to serve you and watch you grow,” Darcie says with a sad smile.

“Thank you so much Darcie. Please take care of my sister,” I say hugging her, Darcie quickly hugging me back.

“Of course Miss Y/n. Now please be good, I will miss you so dearly,” She says whipping a tear that I didn’t realise fell.

I nod, my head and give her a quick smile then turn and walk towards the door to the outside of the castle where the carriage should be waiting.

“Take good care of the horses Simon,” I say with a smile to the main servant that takes care of our horses.

“Of course Miss Y/n,” he says, returning the smile and nodding.

----

We enter the kingdom of Cranken, the towns people looking towards the carriage as it pulls my family. Rina looking out at them with a big smile.

“We should be there in five minutes,” My father says from across me.

James, Irene, and I nod. I lean my head against the wall of the carriage.

Luckily the five minutes pass by quickly and we enter the gates of the castle. The King and Queen of Cranken are already waiting by the doors ready for our carriage. The carriage comes to a slow stop and my mother and father step out first, James and Irene following, James offering me his hand to help step out of the carriage.

“Nice to see you again, Rose,” The Queen says

“It’s been quite long, how have you been?” my mother's kind voice flows from beside me.

“I’ve been well, I believe you are probably ready to meet Ethan,” The Queen says nodding to my mother.

“Yes, we are,” Says my Father standing up straight.

“I will have Sam fetch him,” The king says to the servant I assume is Sam.

A few minutes later the servant walks back with a boy, my age who is quite handsome.

“Sorry, I wasn’t sure when they’d be arriving,” The boy say standing up straight next to the king.

“It’s fine, now I believe we should introduce you all, this is Ethan, the next heir of the throne,” the king says, clapping his sons shoulder proudly.

We curtsey and bow.

“This is my eldest and only son, James the heir of my throne,” My father says as James steps forward and nods his head, My dad then moves onto me, “This is Y/n, she will be the one to stay and marry your son,” Father says, I take his pause as the que to step forward and bow my head and then step back to place much like James did. He then moves on to Irene, “This is my youngest daughter, Irene,” He says as she copies everything James and I did.

“Very nice to meet you all,” The queen says, Ethan keeps his gaze on me.

“You are free to wonder around the grounds while we go talk,” The king says, motioning for my mother and father to follow him into the castle. Ethan looks to his father and starts walking towards James, Irene, and I.

“Nice to meet you all, I would be glad to show you around,” He says with a charming smile.

“That would be great, thank you,” I say offering a smile back.

“In that case follow me this way,” He replies, turning around and walking towards the castle doors.

----

It’s now dinner time and we have all been guided where to sit, us and the Nestor family sitting at a main table and a few other kingdoms such as the Iplier Kingdom, Pewds Kingdom, and Septic Kingdom have joined us, each sitting at their own table.

“Thank you all for coming, it has been an absolute pleasure having you all here, you may begin,” The king says, taking his seat next to his wife. Instead of being seated between James and Irene, I’ve been seated next to Ethan, per his request. He’s really not as bad as I thought he’d be, he’s very kind and charming. Maybe my stay won’t be so bad.

Everyone started to gather food on their plate. Ethan looked up at me as he passed me a bowl of food and started to speak. “So, do you have any cool hobbies?”

“I like to ride horses and I like archery,” I say looking at him.

“We just got a new horse the other day, his name is Zander. I’ll have to take you out to the stables later. And as far as archery tomorrow I’ll show you the range it’s pretty cool,” He says smiling once again.

----

I finished dinner and thought that it would be nice to talk with the other princes and kings since its been awhile.

“So, Y/n you're betrothed to Ethan, must be pretty excited,” Mark, king of Iplier says is a teasing manor.

“Oh she's extremely excited, you can see the way she looks at him already,” Jack say laughing.

“I seriously hate talking to you two,” I say laughing as well.

“Do you boys ever not tease Y/n?” Amy marks wife asks as she walks over.

“Sometimes, I mean it depends,” Felix says with a smirk.

“Hello, it’s been awhile since we’ve spoken, How’ve you been,” Ethan asks, now walking over and talking to Mark.

“I’ve been great,” Mark says nodding.

Ethan then turns to me and says, “Y/n your family's leaving and wanted to know if you'd like to walk them out.”

“Yes, thank you,” I say with a smile, turning and walking towards my parents who are walking out of the castle doors with my siblings.

We walk to the carriage that's all ready to take them home, I give my Father a quick hug and kiss on the cheek goodbye. Then James who hugs me. My mother and Irene waited patiently.

“I’m gonna miss you so much,” Irene cries into the skirt of my dress, which brings tears to my eyes.

“I know, but I’ll be back to visit and I will write every week,” I say and give her a final squeeze. Then turn to my mother.

“Y/n I know that you don’t like the idea of an arranged marriage, but we chose the best choice possible for you,” she says with tears in her eyes, still sad that you won’t be coming home with her.

“I know mother,” I say and give her a hug.

“Please try and stay your happy self, I love you,” she says getting into the carriage. I take a step away from the carriage and watch as it slowly pulls away, until it's out of sight.

“It must be hard to have to leave them,” A sudden voice says from beside me, startling me slightly.

I turnt to see Ethan standing next to me, “Yeah, I meant it’s hard, but I’ll be fine,” I say looking at him.

“If you’d like I can show you to your room since it's right next to mine,” He says, changing the subject.

“Did all the guests leave already?” I ask looking at him. He nods. “Yeah, you showing me to my room would be wonderful,” I then say in reply.

He offers his arm, which I accept. We walk up two flights of stairs to the west wing where our rooms are, he walks me to mine and leaves me with the words, “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to come to my room.”

I quickly get dressed for bed in the clothes that I have never seen before, and lay in a bed I have never been in before. Maybe after some adjusting living here won't be so bad.

#ethan nestor #ethan nestor x reader #crankgameplays #crankgameplays x reader #royalty au #x reader

47 notes · View notes

softbiker · 4 years

Text

Steve Rogers Oneshot

Warnings: language, attempted sexual assault and harassment, mentions of past sexual assault and harassment - do not read if these situations are triggering for you.

Word count: 6.1k - am I capable of writing anything short anymore???

A/N: HI I’M FINALLY BACK AND POSTING SOMETHING FOR THE FIRST TIME IN ALMOST 3 MONTHS WOW. This story continues the Agent 14 series (so definitely check that out in my masterlist if you’re not familiar!) and...it’s something I’ve had on my mind for a while. I just needed to get it out. I hope that you like it and please share what you think! Feedback is appreciated!

When her phone starts buzzing, she’s mid-swing at the faded sandbag hanging from the ceiling.

She’s glad to have the place to herself - the dusty air and stale silence more of a comfort. A bead of sweat slides down her temple, itching past her ear, and her finger scratches at the spot absently, coming away salty wet. There’s sweat slicking her scalp, too; she feels it under the tight twist of her braids, heat trapped beneath the strands. Her dirty little basement gym - faded posters lining the walls, advertising fights long finished, flickering bulbs hanging from the ceiling, stained linoleum - is quiet in the mornings. A kind of quiet that is all too rare in the city, in her life.

Sure, it was nice of Sam to continue inviting her on their morning runs - she has every intention of taking him up on his offer, when she finally gets off the opening shift at work. She sees his 4 a.m. offers a couple times a week, shooting back a quick response that she’s already up, heading in to open the cafe. He finds it all so funny; calls her “Agent Barista”, and endearingly teases her about her rigorous coffee training at the SHIELD Academy.

Okay but real talk, 14 - what’s your top secret mission down at Starbucks? Pinged her phone as she brushed her teeth and concealed undereye circles with strategic swipes of makeup.

Key word in your question is “top secret”, Wilson. As in, tell you but I’d have to kill you. You know the drill.

Another ping. Yeah, yeah. Y’all agents talk a good game, but I know for a fact 41 can be bought with a box of See’s candies. Just gotta figure out your weakness.

Good luck.

No luck needed. I’ll bring a couple sweaty super soldiers your way around 8:30, you’re welcome.

With a wrapped hand, she flicks one swinging braid back over her shoulder, turning to her duffel bag for her phone. It’s buried under a spare pair of socks and a sports bra she forgot to wash, still buzzing as she grasps it and flips the screen upwards in her hand.

Unknown caller.

She’d bet every cent to her name that she could guess who was on the other end of the line. Tongue pressed against her teeth, she dismisses the call and drops her phone back in her bag. Fury can wait.

Turning back to the sandbag, she sucks a quick breath through her nose, curling power in her lean shoulders, and then unleashes a furious combination of jabs and kicks on the beaten plastic. Grunts and harsh pants slip past her lips, fists slinging blow after punishing blow, her weight held bouncing on the balls of her feet. The sandbag is a stoic opponent, taking her fists and feet without so much as a groan of protest, swinging back only a few inches on the chain even as she whips around high for a roundhouse kick. Growling, she rocks her weight back on her heels, before leaping forward off one leg to drive her knee into the bag with bruising force. More to herself than the bag, she thinks, glancing down at the tender skin on her bare knee, stinging from the impact. She leans an elbow against the bag and drops her head, swiping at the baby hairs along her forehead.

The phone buzzes again, insistent and muffled, and she lets her head drop back with a heavy sigh, eyes closed.

“Shut up,” she mutters, eyes narrowing in a nasty glare at the offending noise.

“I didn’t say anything.”

She whirls at the sound, fists raised - she hadn’t even heard him enter.

Steve has the good grace to look sheepish as he approaches from a shadowed staircase in the corner of the room, his hands raised in surrender. Not many people have had the sheer dumb luck - and misfortune - of sneaking up on her, and the part of her brain not whiplashed by adrenaline grudgingly admires him for it.

“Morning, Captain,” 14 sighs, her hands falling to her hips, rolling her neck against the tension in her shoulders.

“Morning,” he smiles. He’s trimmed back the beard, she notices, closer to the sharp line of his jaw. Dust motes swirl around his golden head like fairy dust as he passes through the puddles of light cast from the weak overhead bulbs. It strikes her then, the unassuming slope of his shoulders, a little shuffle in his gait, not quite lifting his feet from the ground. Not a strut, no stalking or preening like the SHIELD boys she came up at the Academy with, eager to throw their weight around. Somehow, despite his height, he manages to duck his head, to look up at her under a fringe of enviable dark lashes. Disarming and soft, a wayward blond strand falling over his forehead, he tucks his hands into his pockets, standing just a few feet away from her. He nods at the hanging sandbag behind her.

“Gave that thing quite a beating,” he says, tilting a dark eyebrow. She shrugs one shoulder.

“Looked at me funny,” she quips back, still catching her breath from the last bout. Her tongue swipes at a drop of sweat on her upper lip. Sniffing, she turns her gaze down to the wrapping on her hands. “I don’t recall inviting you, Rogers - I thought this was a private session.”

“Sorry for intruding,” he says, scrunching his nose and swiping at the errant lock of hair hanging before his eyes. With a jerk of his chin, he gestures towards her gym bag, where her phone has gone blessedly silent. “Fury had a feeling you would, um, how does Sam say it…’shady button’ him?”

She snorts in spite of herself, just managing to slap a hand over her mouth before her laugh becomes obnoxious. Even in the dim light of the fluorescents, she can see the high flush creeping up those scruffy cheeks. Steve rubs the back of his neck, a familiar embarrassment curling in his belly; it’s a joke the team plays sometimes, and he gets it, he really does. Gotta laugh at your CO sometimes - it brings the team together; so he drops little phrases here and there, incongruous slang with his pleated slacks and old-fashioned manners. Even things that Sam says - the word “fam”, or adding “ass” as a suffix to virtually any word - from Steve’s mouth, they’re suddenly enough to have the team rolling with laughter, Tony red-faced, Wanda close to tears. The tips of his ears burn, and he always acts put out, lowers his stern father brows, but if there’s one thing he learned as a Brooklyn-born punk, it’s how to take his punches.

“Oh, I’m sorry - I’m sorry,” 14 says, hand still half-covering the silly grin tugging at her mouth. “It just sounded so funny coming from you. It was like-”

“Kinda like if your dad were saying it?” Steve purses his lips, tilts his head to the side.

“Oh god…yes, that’s exactly it.” It ignites a fresh burst of giggles, though she scrunches her nose and shakes her head at the image. “Uh, just do us both a favor and don’t say that again.”

“I don’t think you can restrict Captain America’s freedom of speech.” He lifts his eyebrows, playful, considering. The slope of his nose casts a long shadow across his cheek, skin like Irish cream. She rolls her eyes, turning away to her duffel bag, using her teeth to tug at the wrappings on her hands.

“So. You’re Nick’s new personal assistant or something?” Dropping to the bench, she rummages through her gym bag and takes a long gulp from her water bottle. She swipes at her phone screen - 3 missed calls now.

Steve shrugs.

“I volunteered,” he says simply, large knuckles still visible where they stay curled in his pockets. “Thought…hoped I might have better luck.”

She licks her lower lip, chasing a coveted drop of water. It’s not as though she’s tired of the job - it varies so much, from one day to the next, that it makes boredom impossible. No, it’s not the job, she’s just…tired. Of what, or why, she can’t really say. Steve is patient. He doesn’t say anymore, just waits, standing a few feet away and shifting his weight from one leg to the other, his soft eyes watchful. Her fingers go to her shoulders, massaging the oncoming ache in her muscles.

“What’s the mission?”

**********

“You need some help there, punk?” Bucky leans a hip against the doorframe, arms crossed over his beloved NASA hoodie, an amused twitch tugging at the corner of his mouth. Across the room, Steve frowns at him in the mirror.

“Never really got the hang of these damned things,” Steve huffs, fingers losing the knot on his bowtie and sighing again as the cloth falls loose from the crisp collar of his shirt. Hands falling to his narrow hips, he turns to Bucky, wearing a look of defeat rarely seen on Steve Rogers.

Wordlessly, Bucky shuffles across the carpet and begins to knot the offending fabric, fingers of metal and flesh looping one strand over the other and back again. Chin lifted, brows furrowed, a marble bust of martyrdom, Steve is ever stoic while he works.

“Thought you were gonna shave for this,” Bucky comments, his voice quiet, not lifting his eyes from the tie. Steve makes a dissenting noise from his throat.

“Yeah, well, the beard makes it easier to keep a low profile,” he says, a hand reaching up to rub his whiskers absentmindedly. “And besides, I’m sort of attached to it now.”

Bucky chuckles, a smile dimpling his own scruffy cheeks.

“Know what you mean - God, but nobody looked like this when we were kids, ya know?” He steps back, finished with the tie, and gives Steve an appraising nod, pursing his lips. “Not too bad, Rogers, not too bad.”

Raising a dubious brow, Steve turns back to the mirror, tugging at the sleeves and adjusting his shoulders in the tux. Strictly white tie - totally out of his element, but sometimes duty comes with a dress code. He wedges a thick finger between the starched white collar and his own tender skin.

“In this get up?” Steve shakes his head. “Never did get used to wearing a monkey suit.”

Tongue in his cheek, Bucky grins.

“Have you seen yourself in your uniform?”

Steve flings a fist back behind him, grinning triumphantly when his hit lands in Bucky’s gut; a metal fist swings in retaliation, but Steve manages to sidestep, his hands raised in quick surrender.

“Hey, not too rough,” he says, tamping down a mischievous smile. “Tony will have my head if I ruin another one of these.”

“Tony could buy you one for every day of the week,” Bucky scoffs, rolling his eyes.

A knock on the doorframe makes them both turn.

It’s been years now, since he met Natasha - wind whipping up familiar curls on the deck of the helicarrier, a watchful smile, wolves’ teeth hidden under a lamb-soft face. Even later, when he learned to trust her, he always found himself surprised at her startling contrasts, the ease with which she managed to be two things at once; ally and spy, friend then enemy then family. In truth, she was testing him. They both knew. Years of probing, disguised as teasing and sarcasm and near-insubordination - assessing his strength, his weakness, the man behind the shield. And after all this time, it was his steadiness at each of her own turns that pacified her, let her learn to lean on him in return.

She smiles in the doorway now, her bright hair swept sleek behind her ears, revealing diamond teardrop earrings, probably on loan from Tony’s collection. The tips of her hair just brush her pale, bare shoulders, revealed by the strapless neckline of her jumpsuit. Black was always her signature color - never dull, though, because with Nat black is a spectrum, a rainbow refracted through her prism: intimidating, alluring, powerful, subtle.

“You clean up good, Rogers,” she smirks, her hands tucked into her pockets as she gives him a look of approval. “Keeping the beard, though?”

Steve’s hand idly brushes against his trimmed whiskers.

“It’s grown on me,” he admits. “And besides, I’ve got too much of a baby face without it.”

“Some girls like that.”

“Some guys like that,” Bucky adds, waggling his eyebrows.

“Yeah, well,” Steve rubs the back of his neck, willing down the flush that crept up at his friends’ praise. “I’m not supposed to be the bait tonight.”

“No, I guess that’s my job.” Another voice appears behind Nat, her head peaking around Nat’s shoulder as she steps forward to share the space in the doorway.

Unbidden, Steve feels his mouth fall open. He always thought she was beautiful, from the first time he saw her, no makeup and the sleeves of her sweater splashed with coffee and mocha sauce; this morning, in the dusty half-light of the basement gym, sweat gleaming on her forehead and arms. But he wasn’t prepared to see her like this, glowing in his doorway, draped in a pink silk slip that exposed one of her thighs. She’d let her hair loose from it’s tight braids, her makeup bringing a dewy sheen to her cheeks - she looked…fresh, blooming like a rose. A clean swipe of red across her lips, almost an afterthought, as if she couldn’t be bothered to make more effort than that. Steve swipes his suddenly sweaty palms against his thighs and clears his throat.

“Um, wow,” he says, wincing at his own voice, which nearly gave an embarrassingly pubescent crack. “I mean, you…uh, you look great.”

“Better than great,” Bucky pipes up, the amused tilt to his mouth the only hint that he enjoys Steve’s embarrassment. “She looks beautiful.”

Nat nods in agreement.

“The dress is perfect for you - is it one of Stark’s?” she asks. 14 shakes her head, modestly gesturing to the gown with her hand.

“I’ve had it for a little while actually, I just couldn’t pass it up,” she sighs. “Just haven’t had the chance to wear it.”

“Well, we’re finally gonna put some miles on it,” Natasha smiles, her eyes cutting to Steve, who has clamped his jaw shut to prevent himself from saying more. “We all ready? Happy’s pulling the car around.”

14 nods, a shy smile tilting her mouth as she spares a glance at Steve before moving to follow Nat down the hall. She turns, and he sees that the cut of her dress falls low against the small of her back - almost low enough to glimpse the sweet dimples at the base of her spine. When they’re out of the doorway, he feels Bucky’s eyes on him - he’s perched on the edge of the bed, chewing his lip, one eyebrow lifted in an all-knowing look. He opens his mouth to speak but Steve lifts a hand.

“Don’t,” Steve cuts him off. “I know what you’re gonna say Buck, but just- don’t.”

Bucky lifts his hands in surrender, standing from the bed and walking over to where Steve still stands in the middle of his room.

“Fine, I won’t say a damn word,” Bucky sighs, shuffling across the thick carpet. He slaps his friend on the shoulder, gripping Steve with a firm hand. “Except you better move your ass instead of standing there like a dud - didn’t I tell you not to keep a lady waiting, Rogers?”

**********

Sam had whistled playfully as she glided out of the elevator on Steve’s arm, his eyebrows lifting halfway up his forehead.

“Damn, girl - almost didn’t recognize you without your apron,” he winked, his gap-toothed grin charming as ever.

“Didn’t match my shoes,” she winked back, flicking her hair over her shoulder. It sent a wave of her perfume drifting upwards; something bright and sweet, neroli, he thought, or orange blossom - maybe a hint of coconut. He had licked his lips without thinking; he’d like to smell it again, just to be sure.

Here, in this stuffy ballroom across town, with eager officials and bourgeois brats trying to rub elbows with Captain America, he finds the smell much less appealing. Sweat and ambition, excess and greed, all covered in layers of atelier cologne (eau de aristocratie) and - well, Bucky heard enough of his socialist soapbox speeches back in the day, and his views certainly haven’t changed much.

Still, he makes polite small talk with his admirers, rubs elbows, accepts drinks, all the while keeping one eye on the far corner of the room. It’s quiet, secluded, an overstuffed chaise with a soft cover tucked away from the buzz of the main dance floor. She’s perched there, ankles coquettishly crossed, the side slit of her dress revealing one leg and her glittering open-toed shoes; she leans on one arm, tilting her head towards the target, charming smile drawing up her lips as she hangs on his every word. Or pretends to, anyway. The target seems not to know the difference: Robbie Sinclair, a middle-aged man with the tanned smile of a Kennedy, salt and pepper hair slicked back from his face with a boyish cowlick escaping near the front, grins confidently as he talks to her. Steve watches him preen and puff his chest, spreading his legs to take up far more space than he needs. He stretches one arm along the back of the couch, leaning closer than appropriate, but she doesn’t move away.

He doesn’t like this, any of it. To be fair, he’d never been a big fan of the espionage facet of his job; much to Nat’s chagrin, subtlety and subterfuge were not Steve’s strong suits. If he had his way, they’d come in swinging and arrest this creep (and his insider-trading Wall Street buddies, too). But shooting from the hip wouldn’t work here, not when they still needed hard evidence on this guy, something more substantial than rumors - heavy as those rumors might be, words like “human trafficking” and “slavery” coming up in his SHIELD files. He understood the necessity, and so did 14.

Still, bringing her here and dangling her like a worm on a hook, hoping this asshole would take the bait…his stomach churned, whiskey bubbling unpleasantly at the thought. Steve angles his body around a chatty senator, trying to maintain his view on the corner. Sinclair looks about ready to take a bite, his head bent close to 14’s, sly smirk plastered on his face as he whispers something in her ear. Did her fist tighten around her glass? He can’t quite tell from this distance; he knows his own fingers are white-knuckled on his third whiskey. Or was it the fourth?

In a blink, a stumble, a minute trapped in choked small talk with Miss New York (during which he wondered if her real teeth were filed down like a shark’s underneath that crown-winning smile like Sam told him), he’s lost her.

A snowy static of panic whites out his brain, and his heart picks up against his ribcage as he all but shoves the beauty queen out of his way, his vision tunneling on the now-empty chaise in the corner. Where did she go? Where would she go? Barely managing subtlety know, he ducks his head, speaking to the comm device in his ear.

“Natasha. Do you have eyes on them?”

“…no, I was doing a sweep of the terrace outside,” she answers a moment later. “Did you lose them?”

Steve turns a circle where he stands, sharp eyes scanning each face and failing to find the one he wants to see.

“They’re gone, I’ve lost visual.” He tries to keep his voice down, his tone tight and clipped. Through a break in the crowd, he thinks he catches a glimpse of her dress, but when he looks again it’s the wrong color, the wrong dress, the wrong woman-

“Alright, I’m heading back inside - I’ll go up the stairs to the next floor, see if they went up that way.”

“Okay, I’ll take this floor,” Steve says, already making a beeline for the open doors of the ballroom, his tight-laced dress shoes clicking a solitary echo in the cavernous hallway just outside. Past the doors, and the gazes of nosy party-goers, he doubles his pace - the stiff starched tux protesting against the movement.

They’re not tucked into the alcoves along this hallway, and he deliberates a moment where the hall forks in opposite directions, before darting to the left and continuing his clipped jog. In a small part of his brain, he knows he shouldn’t be this concerned about her. 14 was an agent - a highly trained, highly skilled agent; he’d worked with her enough by now to know firsthand how well she could handle herself. But the other part of him couldn’t shake the way Sinclair had looked at her - the way every man in the room had looked at her when she walked in, circling and waiting for their chance to close in. Not to mention the less-than-sterling reputation of Robbie Sinclair, who, aside from the trafficking conspiracy that put SHIELD on his scent, had a handful of secretaries threaten him with harassment suits, before they were quietly paid to keep their mouths shut.

He comes to a dead end, a dancing nymph statue (far too baroque for his taste) mocking him with her tambourine against her hip. Doubling back, he curses under his breath and runs through the building schematics in his head, wondering where they could have slipped away to so quickly.

“Natasha? Any luck?”

“Negative. You?”

“No.” Steve clenches his fists and tries to force his heart back down from where it’s climbed up into his throat. His teeth grind together, jaw locked tight, holding in a frustrated growl. Unprompted, a wave of worst-case scenarios floods his mind - 14 dragged away by thugs, knocked unconscious, bleeding and gagged, unable to call for help. She’s a good agent. A good soldier. She can handle this. Try as he might to force them away, the tide of panic swells over and over inside him, the voice of his intuition telling him something must have gone wrong-

Behind him, an elevator dings.

Steve turns to see the ancient metalwork door rattle open, Agent 14 stumbling out half a moment later.

He blinks. She’s lost her shoes - no, she’s carrying them, the straps dangling from one hand. The side slit of her dress looks higher, and he notices the frayed edges along the top where the fabric has ripped. Her lipstick is smudged, her hair mussed, and she takes labored, panting breaths as she leans against the wall.

It takes him a while to understand what he’s looking at. As his panic starts to ebb, something different, something wounded and green threatens to perch in its place, at the sight of her so disheveled, with swollen lips and rumpled clothes. He says nothing; he has nothing to say, shocked as he is by the bitter taste of his own thoughts, wondering if a rendezvous with Sinclair was worth the information she might have gained.

It’s not until she starts sniffling that he notices the tears running down her cheeks.

The realization stops him cold, strangles the dark seed of doubt just starting to sprout in his heart, and fills him with shame and guilt. He takes a step forward. She’s not looking at him.

“…14? Are you okay?” he asks, his voice hushed. “Are you hurt?” There were no visible wounds that he could see, though she had limped a little when coming out of the elevator.

She nods, sniffing again.

“I’m-I’m fine,” she says, her voice scraping in her throat, barely holding back a sob. Squeezing her eyes shut, she presses a hand to her mouth, shoulders shaking with silent tears.

In two steps he’s at her side, though unsure of what to do, what would be appropriate, what she wants or needs. Were they…friends? Acquaintances? Colleagues? Do work friends hug, comfort each other?

“Can you tell me what happened?” he ventures softly, still not touching her, not crowding. He holds back a few inches, waiting, his hands feeling empty and heavy at his sides. “Do you want to?”

She nods, but it takes a few moments before she has regained her composure enough to lower her hand from her mouth and take a few rattling breaths, preparing to speak.

“He…h-he,” she stutters over a sob, like a child who’s cried too hard for too long. “He grabbed me and-and was kissing me, and then he tried,” she’s interrupted by a hiccup and a shaky sigh. “He tried to…to…”

She raises her eyes to his, tears welling up again, and shakes her head. She can’t say it, won’t say it - it is too much. It will make it real.

For his part, Steve barely restrains himself from blacking out with rage. His jaw is so tight he can feel his teeth nearly crack from the strain, fists curled but unsatisfied with not being wrapped around Sinclair’s neck. How dare he? How dare anyone? When he gets his hands on this goddamned son of a bitch, he’ll-

His vengeful train of thought is interrupted when she collapses against his chest with a sob, gripping the lapels of his jacket for support. On instinct he wraps his arms around her, caging her in, his chin resting on top of her head.

“I’m sorry - I’m so sorry,” he whispers as he hushes her and holds her, wishing there was more he could do, more he could say. He holds himself back from other platitudes, from it’s okay, and everything’s alright - he knows it’s not true.

She shakes and cries and rides out the storm in his arms, full of anger and fear and shame and helplessness; all the while, he stands silent and solid, murmuring soothing words his mother might have said - in another life, when someone held him, protected him.

Neither of them knows how much time has passed when her sobs become less violent, when her breathing calms, but she doesn’t step away. Her head doesn’t move from its place on his chest, and he makes no sign of wanting it to. Gently, slowly, he rocks her in his embrace, one hand smoothing over her back.

After a while, she speaks.

“I’m so tired,” she whispers. From this angle, he can see her blink slowly, tear tracks drying on her cheeks. He nods.

“You’re coming down from the adrenaline - that’s normal,” he murmurs, letting her weight sag against him, wondering if he’ll need to carry her.

“No,” she shakes her head. “Not like that…that’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean?”

She doesn’t answer, not right away; her breathing has settled into an easier rhythm, less frenzied and panting. Her fingers slide from their place at his chest to rest around his waist.

“When I was in high school, there was this guy.” Her voice startles him when she finally speaks again, she’s been silent for so long. He makes a noise to let her know he’s listening before she goes on. “He was…I don’t know. Popular, I guess. Cute. Football player. Advanced classes. All the girls liked him.” She takes a shuddering breath before forging ahead. “And-and I guess he liked me because he couldn’t leave alone for a single fucking minute.

“God, it was constant. He’d grab my ass, or say dirty things about me to other guys…sometimes it wasn’t even sexual, it was like…he’d squeeze my waist or pinch the fat on the back of my arms and comment about my weight.” She sniffs, and Steve tightens his arms around her, not speaking. “One time, between classes, he grabbed me by the hips and bent me backwards over a desk - he wouldn’t let go, and he was just laughing…and no one said anything, none of the guys or my friends or anybody.”

Steve frowns, feeling impotent and frustrated. “I’m so sorry.” She shakes her head again.

“The worst thing is I just put up with it. I didn’t say anything…I didn’t think, I didn’t know-” she huffs a bitter laugh. “I guess I just thought it was flirting. Like I should’ve been flattered by it.”

“You shouldn’t - you don’t have to take that,” Steve says, fighting to control his tone. “Not from anyone.”

“I know that now,” she says. “But I was just a kid…nobody told me. Nobody helped me.”

He opens his mouth, tries to think of something to say, but she goes on.

“And nobody told me that it never gets better, it never changes.” He can feel how tightly her fists are clenched at his sides. “No one told me that this would be the rest of my fucking life. First it was him, and old men at the gas station where I got snacks after school, and truck loads of frat boys following me home. Jesus even the damn milk guy at the café calls me ’sexy’ and won’t leave me alone.” She sniffles again, voice tightening with anguish. “I’m tired, I’m so tired - I’m so fucking sick of all of it…of-of just being a thing, I’m tired of being looked at, and-” She tries to swallow back her sob, but it crests and stutters in her lungs, taking over her voice once again as she presses her face impossibly closer.

It breaks his heart and stokes his rage, the helpless, hopeless weight of her bitter words. Here he is, over a century old, and still watching people fight the same battles; battles to be heard, to be seen, to be treated like humans. He’d seen it all his life, women like his mother, like Peggy, spines of steel and hearts made of diamonds, resisting a world that would grind them down and make them small. He wishes his shield were wider, stronger. He wishes he could protect them from this.

“I can’t tell you it’s okay,” he murmurs. “Because it’s not. It’s not okay, I’m so sorry.” She squeezes his waist gratefully and nods her head a little. “But you…you don’t ever have to feel alone in this, okay?” He leans back a little, prompting her to lift her head, to meet her tear-bright eyes. “You’re not alone. I promise.”

It’s not enough. It’s not over. But today, for now, it feels like something.

**********

Natasha pages Happy, who pulls the car around to the front of the building. She says nothing as 14 limps down the front steps, shoes in hand, one arm linked with Steve’s and wearing his jacket, the too-long sleeves covering her hands. Nat’s eyes slide up to his - their silent exchange lasts moments, microseconds; her lips pinch tightly and her elegant white fists curl tight.

Happy holds the door, offering a hand as 14 drops inside, folding her legs and wrapping her torn skirt as tight as she can around the exposed length of her legs. Nat glances at the open door of the car and steps away, angling her back to the patient Happy. She juts her chin at Steve.

“You need a hand, Rogers?” He knows the look in her eyes is mirrored in his own - the look of a boxer stepping in the ring, of a lion sighting prey, a shark scenting blood.

Steve shakes his head, a hand reaching up to loosen his tie.

“No, it’s alright. You go on with 14.”

Happy peaks his head around.

“You don’t want me to wait for you, Cap?” he frowns. “I can keep the car running.”

Steve glances over Nat’s shoulder at the town car, where 14 has curled up in the backseat, and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows.

“Nah. I need to have a word with Mr. Sinclair.”

**********

The arrest doesn’t make the front page. Or any page of the papers, in fact. Robbie Sinclair wakes in a hospital bed, in SHIELD custody, and ready to make deals with anyone who will bargain - provided his security detail keeps him well away from the Avengers and their Captain.

When the file crosses his desk, courtesy of Natasha, he notices the long list of names Sinclair has provided them with - powerful men, Wall Street and Capitol Hill’s finest, who found their positions one dirty handshake at a time. It would take some time to build a case against them all, find sufficient evidence for arrests, but SHIELD was up for the task. There’s a note in the back of the file, a small article someone has attached with a paperclip.

‘Executive’s Secretaries Speak Out’ reads the headline, with the subtext ‘Sinclair accused of sexual harassment, assault’. It appears a few women who had crossed his path were tired of being silenced; they had banded together, sharing pain and courage, to finally see him brought to justice. And combined with the charges SHIELD was bringing against him, it was unlikely he’d step foot outside of a prison for the next couple of decades.

It’s a start.

A few days later, Steve rises before the sun, a creature of habit. He takes his run alone, listening to a podcast that Sam had recommended. By 5:30, he’s stretching at the bench in front of the tower, before making his way down the street to the coffee shop.

She does a double take when she sees him, surprise and (he hopes) excitement creeping up in her smile. There’s only a couple of baristas in the store at this time - they haven’t hit their peak yet - and she’s wiping down the bar in front of the espresso machines by herself.

“Morning, Cap,” she smiles. There are tired little circles under her eyes. She looks beautiful. “You want your usual?”

“Hmmm,” he pretends to think, narrowing his eyes at the menu. “Actually…how about you surprise me.”

She raises her brows, a little impressed. “You sure? Anything goes?”

“Anything - I promise I’ll try it.”

“Alright,” she smirks, mischievous and much too eager, and she turns away from the espresso machines to the blenders behind her.

Milk, syrup, ice - other ingredients he can’t see or identify, all thrown into the pitcher and blended. She leans against the counter as the machine whirs loudly, a cheeky smile dimpling her cheeks. Just as the machine stops, the bell above the door chimes, both of them turning to look.

A small, wiry, white-haired man backs his way into the store, pulling a dolly stacked high with milk crates. He looks around, making sure he’s not backing into anyone, and catches sight of her behind the counter. Steve doesn’t like the look of his smile, or the way 14 ducks back down to her blender, her shoulders inching upwards.

“Morning, sweetheart,” the man says, a bit too loud, rattling the crates on his dolly as he wheels around tables, towards the back of house.

“Morning,” 14 replies coolly, not looking up from where she’s carefully lining Steve’s cup with mocha sauce. She doesn’t say anything more, keeping her head down as she pours out the drink and reaches for a canister of whipped cream. Steve’s eyes cut between them, his hands in the pockets of his shorts.

The milk man hustles back through the store with an empty dolly, on his way to collect the next load of crates, and 14 sighs a little when the bell chimes on his way out. She’s just turning around to hand Steve his drink, when she notices that the café is empty - he must have slipped out as well.

“Hey, pal,” Steve claps a hand on the man’s shoulder, consciously withholding his full force. “I was wondering - you usually deliver the milk here?”

“Yeah,” the man huffs, a little confused, and in a hurry to unload his crates. He squints, the rising sun in his eyes. “Why?”

“Oh, I just wanted to talk to you for a second, that’s all,” Steve smiles. His hand doesn’t move from it’s place on the man’s shoulder.

When he comes back inside, his towering, chocolate-swirled beverage is waiting at the end of the bar. 14 is waiting, too, arms crossed, one hip propped up against the counter. She tilts her head to one side.

“Do I wanna know?” she asks. Steve shrugs.

“Nothing to know,” he says, shuffling up to the bar to claim his drink and stare at it, incredulous and amused. “Now what on earth is this thing, a milkshake?”

She rolls her eyes.

“It’s called a frappucino, old man,” she grins. “Drink up - you promised.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x agent 14 #steve rogers fic #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers imagine

154 notes · View notes