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nickfowlerrr · 10 months

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i never thought you’d happen to me - 2

part one / part three

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ only. smut, fluff, bit of angst. time travel via magic. dad!bucky and mom!reader. steve x nat. some morally dubious homemade porn viewing 💀. if i’m missing anything that should be tagged, please lmk!

words: 6.7k

notes: this idea came from a prompt post i saw not too long ago and coincidentally fell into some bingo spots for my @the-slumberparty bingo card. fair warning: this is so completely self indulgent and a little trope overload lol but i had such a good time working on it and it was fun to write so who really cares 😌 thank you in advance for reading and reblogging! as always, comments and reblogs are more than welcome and so appreciated. please let me know what you think!

Back at the house, your house, you wander around the living room as Bucky sits on the tablet in the kitchen, consumed by whatever it is he's looking through.

You stop at the large bookshelf that's screwed into the wall, the picture frames all around catching your attention.

You smile at the baby pictures of the twins, admiring their tiny faces as you and Bucky each hold one, looking down at them like they were the only things in the world that mattered. You note how close you are to Bucky in the photo, practically in his lap as you lean into him.

Your eyes drift down the case before landing on a gorgeous shot, breathtaking, really.

You're in white, the elegant dress you don seemingly straight out of your dreams as you recline into Bucky who stands behind you, his arms around your waist as your hands cover his. You're smiling as he appears to be whispering something in your ear, a smile of his own evident as he does.

It's intimate and delicate and it seizes your heart as you can't seem to take your eyes off of it.

Your mind can't seem to make sense of it, though.

How do you get from here to there? How can you ever have this life? It seems so unreal.

Bucky can’t stand you more than half the time, he's made that fact abundantly clear. So how the hell does he go from that to this? What changes? Why?

The sound of your name being called gets your attention as you wipe at your welling eyes. You hadn't noticed it happening, but you felt it when you finally blinked and looked away from the photo.

"Yeah?"

"My card is linked to this thing apparently, I was gonna order food."

"Okay," you breathe.

"What do you want?"

"I don't care. Whatever is fine," you brush off as you finally turn around and meet his eye. "I'm gonna shower."

He doesn't respond, but he doesn't take his eyes off of you either, watching you intently as you pass him and walk back to the room.

----

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. The car ride back to the house seemed longer without the twins there to distract you from your close proximity to Bucky. And being alone together once you finally got back, despite the huge space allotted to you in this house, still seemed stifling. There was a growing tension between you that was more than ready to break.

You weren’t unfamiliar with the feeling.

It seemed to be ever present when you two were around each other and only intensified the longer you were alone with one another.

As you began undressing, starting the water for your shower, your mind wandered to the last time you found yourself in such close quarters with him.

You were both beyond exhausted when you’d gotten back to the tower after your mission. It hadn’t gone as smoothly as anyone would have hoped, but you got the job done, if not just a little worse for wear.

You were leaning against the right side of the elevator, facing the door as Bucky stood closer to the left side, facing the same direction as you. It was quiet, and though your body was sore beyond belief, you mentally chided yourself for not just taking the stairs. You’d just finished giving him a piece of your mind after he made yet another unhelpful comment about how you could have easily avoided being flung down a flight of stairs earlier.

Crazy as it might have seemed, receiving a play by play of every tiny misstep you’d taken after a mission as grueling as that one didn’t go over too well with you. Especially as you stood with bandaged ribs, miscellaneous cuts, bumps, and bruises all over your body, and what you were sure was a concussion causing the throbbing in your head.

You closed your eyes as you let your head rest against the wall, one hand on the rail and the other holding your duffel.

A sudden jerking had your eyes snapping open as you held tighter to the railing to keep your balance, the light above shutting off briefly before a dimmer one returned as the elevator completely stopped moving.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you groused under your breath before sinking down to the floor in utter exhaustion. The elevator had been on the fritz since before you had even left for the mission last week, you assumed they would’ve gotten it fixed by the time you returned. Clearly you were wrong.

You watched as Bucky hit random buttons on the panel in front of him in a vain attempt to get the thing to move again. You wanted to say something snarky but just sighed exaggeratedly instead. After a moment, still no words spoken between either of you, Bucky took out his emergency phone and called for help.

You didn’t pay much attention to his conversation as the pressure in your head grew, but his next words caught your attention completely.

“What the hell do you mean an hour?” he nearly growled into the phone.

You couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation well but there were only so many people he could have called at this hour that would be able to help and the snicker that made its way through the line had you betting on Stark.

He hung up and chanced a glance to you, meeting your gaze. “Might be a while,” he huffed before looking away.

He approached the doors of the elevator and you winced at the sound they emitted as he pulled them open slightly. He was greeted by nothing but the walls of the elevator shaft before he allowed the doors to close again. You watched as he checked the time on his phone before he sat down himself. You let your eyes shut again, your tiredness winning out in the quiet settling over you. It was maybe ten minutes later when you were rudely awoken by Bucky.

You were impressed with his bravery because you could still feel your irritation roiling off of you from your earlier exchange. Your eyes were still closed when you felt his fingers brush against the bruise on your jaw.

“What?” you asked harshly, swatting his hand away from you as you shot daggers at him with your glare.

“Considering how often you find yourself in the med bay, you’d think you’d know the basics of what not to do when it comes to head trauma.”

“Jesus Christ, you just never fucking stop, do you,” you huffed before snapping completely. “I get it, Bucky, okay? I’m a fuck up, I’m reckless and careless and I don’t think before I act, is that what you wanna hear? Are you happy now? I admit it! I’m everything you say I am. But at the end of the day, I have never put you or anyone else in harm’s way. And just a reminder, I got the files and took out everyone I needed to along the way by myself. So I don’t know, maybe give me a little fucking credit for once,” you raged, the pain in your body only adding to your anger.

“This isn’t about me or the mission getting done or anyone else,” he fired back, his tone catching you off guard, though you refused to show it, “I’m never worried about any of that. But you are careless. Look at you! You put yourself in needless danger over and over again, and yeah, it pisses me off. You always end up hurt when you never should have been in the position to get hurt to begin with. You think I enjoy seeing you like this? I’m your partner, I’m the one who’s supposed to have your back and yet every assignment, you continue to go out of your way to make it damn near impossible for me to do.”

“Your job isn’t to keep me from getting hurt,” you deflected, not wanting to focus on the way his words were making you feel as you flicked your eyes away from his burning blue ones. It was too confusing. A mix of care and chastation you were having trouble processing at once.

“And yours isn’t to get killed in some pathetic attempt to prove yourself,” he shot back before his tone quieted significantly. “You have nothing to prove,” he finished.

Your gaze softened at that, a sense of embarrassment coming over you at how clearly he saw through you; The simultaneous feeling of validation his last words offered had the previous tension you felt in your anger lightening before you let your eyes slowly return to his.

There was a thick silence between you as you looked at one another, nothing but your slowing breaths to be heard. His gaze wasn’t as harsh now, but it still took a lot out of you to hold it. The intensity his eyes held was unmatched. You hadn’t realized before, how much closer he had gotten to you, but it was evident now as you nearly felt yourself buzzing - suddenly all too aware of everything in the confined void you’d found yourselves in.

And then, you couldn’t say why or how, but you found your eyes falling to his lips. A stuttered breath leaving you as inadvertently leaned in a bit closer to him.

That wasn’t you, though, you’d realized after a split second, one hand reaching up to hold the rail.

The elevator jolted a bit as it began to move again, only a few seconds passing before the ding signaling its arrival at the top floor sounded. You were still looking at one another, maybe more intensely than you’d realized, when the doors slid open.

“Uh-oh, did I interrupt something? Let me guess, lover’s quarrel?”

Your gaze quickly turned into a glare as you both turned to see Tony waiting at the doors for you.

You rolled your eyes and got up as quickly as you could, trying to hide your winces of pain as you did.

“Fuck off,” you said as you brushed past him.

“Is that your catchphrase now?” he called after you, “Ya know, I like it, it suits you.”

You remember how embarrassed you were after that night, praying that Bucky hadn’t noticed where your eyes had drifted to, or if he did that he’d have the decency to pretend he hadn’t. You’d chalked it up to a moment of weakness. You weren’t stupid enough to expect him to return your (very well kept to yourself) feelings. You never expected anything out of him, and honestly you’d been trying to shake them yourself since you’d been partnered up. You avoided him for a good week straight after that night, and neither of you has brought it up since.

Even now, you could pretend all you wanted that those feelings didn’t exist, but deep down, you knew they were alive and well. And clearly, as you looked again at the picture of you and Bucky sitting on the bedside table, it wasn’t something you could believably go on denying much longer.

The shower helped. Kind of. You feel better physically, but your mind is still dead set on trying to figure out the future. You take your time drying off and getting into a clean pair of pajamas while Bucky waits in the kitchen.

He's scrolling through every app he can, trying to piece together his future as it stands. And if he's being honest, trying to figure out how the hell he was able to get you to stop hating him. How he was able to get you to fall in love with him..

He opens up the photo library, grinning as he sees photo after photo of the twins, and some family photos, pictures of you, pictures of him, intermingled in.

He backs out of the gallery and scrolls down mindlessly through the albums. His eyes land on the "Hidden" tab and he clicks on it without too much thought, his face unlocking it and granting him access.

His eyes go wide, his mouth goes dry at the images that liter the screen.

He should close out, look away, something, but he doesn't. The scandalous photos grab him and he just can't. One icon in particular catches his eye and he clicks on it without thinking, the video playing instantly.

He watches the screen intently, hunching over the tablet as he holds it tightly in his hands. Sees himself leave from in front of the camera, his movement revealing you as you wait for him on your bed. You're peering up at him attentively as he approaches you before you spare a glance to the camera and then back to him. A soft smirk playing on your lips as he towers over you, causing you to look up further and further as you recline until you’re on your back.

“Hi,” you simper breathily, earning a smirk from him in return.

“Hi,” he breathed, leaning ever closer.

He watches as you scoot back on the bed and he follows you, his hands tracing down your curves, fingers playing with the material of your lingerie before he drops his head and begins trailing kisses from the softness of your stomach, up your sternum and along your neck before finally your lips meet.

Bucky is completely enraptured in the scene playing out before his very eyes. He’s sitting here feeling jealous of himself as you run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to you before you bring a leg up around his hip, arching your body into his own.

It’s sensual at first but you both seem to grow impatient quickly as your kissing heats up and becomes more and more hungry.

Finally, you slip a hand down and tug at the waistband of his boxers until he pulls away.

Bucky can see your face perfectly, your eyes are dark as you push yourself up onto your forearms, watching him.

Instead of ridding himself of his boxers right away, he slowly, teasingly drags your silky underwear down your thick thighs as you watch him with heavy eyes, your legs spread just for him.

“Look at the camera,” he hears his own voice command.

Your eyes flick from him to the lens as Bucky swallows thickly, still completely unable to look anywhere but you.

You gasp suddenly as he quickly buries his face between your thighs, your fingers tightening in his hair as your head lolls back some. Your soft moans begin tumbling past your lips as he focuses his attention solely on you, devoted and unrelenting as you mewl and writhe under his ministrations.

When a whimper of his name leaves you, it causes Bucky to shift in his seat, trying to ease the ache growing in his shorts as he watches you rock yourself against his face.

“Buck,” you moan, “please,” you whine with a tug of his hair.

He watches as your toes curl, feet arching, and your entire body seems to tense around him, your eyes squeezing shut as your mouth hangs open until your legs quake and you let out a tight, shaky whimper on an exhale. You bite your knuckle in an attempt to keep yourself quiet while he continues working you through your orgasm.

When he finally lets up and gives you a chance to collect yourself, he moves up your body, finding your lips as he kisses you again, leaving you even more breathless than you had been.

“It’s just you and me tonight, doll. Don’t hold back on me,” he kisses you again, his hands going around your back to undo your bra. “I’m gonna wanna hear you when I watch this back,” he smirks.

You're completely naked as Bucky stands before you, finally taking off his boxers. “Turn around for me,” he tells you.

You do as he says, getting on all fours with him situated perfectly behind you. He angles you both so the camera has a better view. Bucky watches as he teases your entrance with his tip, over and over again as you whine and wiggle your ass in pure desperation for him.

He keeps the volume low as he lets the video play, he isn’t sure how much time passes as his eyes are glued to the screen, watching himself take you as you let him. He listens to how prettily you cry for him, to the salacious sounds of his cock driving into you over and over, the wet squelching mixing with the slapping of skin as he fucks you hard.

Bucky feels his cock twitching in his shorts as he watches you come for him before hearing himself groan deeply, moaning while he empties his load into your pretty cunt.

He watches the come down, sees himself running his hands along your skin, peppering kisses all over your body, before you roll over beneath him, pulling him down to you and kissing him desperately.

He is entirely unsure about the morality of this all, but he can't look away.

"Fuck, you're amazing," he breathes heavily as he pulls away from you just so. "Thank you, sweetheart," he grins lazily, stroking your cheek.

"Mmm,” you hum contentedly as you look up at him before continuing, “If anyone ever sees this, I'll kill you," you promise him with an 'I mean it' stare before pulling him back to you, crashing your lips together.

"No one'll see it, doll. I promise. For my eyes only," he says as he nuzzles into you. "You have no idea how much I miss you when I'm gone, baby."

"I think I have some idea," you respond, the sultry tone of your voice effortless as you wrap a leg around him.

It looks like you're about to go for another round, and the thirty minutes left in the video seem to confirm that thought, when Bucky hears the door of the bedroom finally opening.

He quickly closes out of the video, sliding the tablet away from himself before trying to hide and adjust his very obvious erection before you come in.

He clears his throat loudly, a bit awkwardly, as you enter the kitchen, earning a questioning brow from you as you walk toward the pizza box.

"You good?" you ask him as you grab a slice, not bothering with a plate.

He nods a bit too stiffly for your liking as you assess him. His cheeks are a little flush and he can't seem to look you in the eye.

"What did you do?" you question accusatorily.

"Nothing. I'm gonna shower now, if that's alright with you?" he questions haughtily.

You make a face at his tone, rolling your eyes as you turn around to grab a glass for water.

He doesn't mean for it to happen, but as you turn from him, his eyes fall to your ass, and he has to work to stop the groan that threatens to tumble from his lips as his mind replays the video for him.

Fucking creep, he chides himself as his cock twitches again. He takes the opportunity to stand and get to the bathroom as your back is to him.

---

You're on your third piece of pizza when Bucky returns to the kitchen, grabbing a slice for himself.

He's spent the last half hour going over in his mind exactly how you two could have possibly ended up here. He's still confused. And at his wit’s end.

Bucky speaks before he can think better of it.

"Why do you hate me?" he asks, seemingly out of the blue, causing you to turn toward him with quizzical eyes as you swallow your bite.

"Excuse me?" you ask in disbelief.

"Why do you hate me?" he repeats himself, his gaze never faltering as he holds your stare.

You're honestly dumbfounded.

You sputter for a second before attempting to form actual words. "I don't hate you, Bucky," you answer as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. And seeing your future, you were pretty sure it must have been. "I mean, clearly," you add a little embarrassed for yourself.

"No? Then why do you act like you do?"

"I -,” you’re about to deny the accusation, but truthfully, you know he’s right. So you pause before giving the only answer you can come up with. “I don't know. Self-preservation?"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Defense mechanism. I mean, you've been a complete dick to me since day one, Bucky. Am I supposed to just let you ream me whenever you feel like it - justified or not. And for the record, most of the time, it's not. You treat me differently from everyone else, sidelining me over nothing, questioning my every move, and I don't know why but I stopped trying to figure it out a while ago," you spoke candidly.

He was quiet for a minute as he took in your words. You watched as his brows furrowed, his gaze dropping as he licked his lips mindlessly.

"I'm sorry," he finally said at last. It was soft, but sincere as a pained look seemed to have taken over his face. "I never meant to make you feel that way. But clearly I did. It's just.. you're so stubborn," he says with a shake of his head as his eyes meet yours once again. "I do treat you differently. Because, truthfully, you fucking terrify me. You can be reckless; you act like you're expendable, and you're not. You're the furthest thing from it. I just don't want to see you get hurt. And maybe I was too scared to actually voice that aloud before, but it is the truth. I don't know, I guess, I thought I was keeping you safe somehow, protecting you. And I know you don't need me to. I'm sorry. For being a dick, for interfering when I shouldn't have, and for not talking to you about things before. I am sorry."

You’re silent and quietly awed at his admission, swallowing hard before forcing yourself to break away from his brilliant blue gaze.

"Thank you," you accept, not knowing where to go from here. "Good to know you don't hate me," you add.

"Yeah, same here," he smiles softly. Another moment passes before you speak again, something unspoken growing between you.

"So, just to be clear, was that you admitting that...you like me?" you ask, hearing how juvenile you sound but not really caring all that much.

"That was me admitting that I care about you."

You take a breath and nod, "Oh, okay. So, you don't like me?"

"I didn't say that," he almost scoffs.

"So you do like me?" you ask again with a furrowed brow.

"Jesus, doll," he laughs lightly, "We're married."

"Not yet," you counter.

Bucky walks toward you, pizza long forgotten by you both as he suddenly gets to his knees before you while you stay seated in the chair, his face right about level to yours as you watch him with stilled breath.

His eyes are blazing a fiery blue as he holds your gaze. You have to blink at the intensity.

"I like you," he breathes quietly, careful not to break the soft air of intimacy as you stay so close to each other, earning a small smile from you in turn.

"I told Kate I had a crush on you during recruitment, that's why she always makes comments about us going on missions together so often," you admit unprompted, the urge to tell him the embarrassing secret you'd tried to keep hidden from the moment you let it slip to Kate just overcoming you.

Bucky smiles boyishly at that. "Steve was convinced from the beginning I had a thing for you, that's why we go out on missions together so often."

You can't fight the half smile that adorns your lips at his words, "Was he right?" you question.

He nods.

"He was right," he whispers as he leans in closer to you. "Does our future not make that obvious?" he teases.

You don't think as you lean into him, one hand finding the back of his head and raking your fingers through the soft, dark brown strands as you breathe a bit heavier with anticipation, you watch as his eyes close at your touch, leaning ever closer. You’re sure he can hear the uptick of your heart as he meets your gaze once again, before your eyes flit to his lips.

You shrug, a playful tilt to your lips.

"I can think of some other things that might make it more obvious," you murmur as you let your forehead press against his own, waiting for him to close the distance between your lips now.

His hand comes up to gently hold your face before he slowly brushes his lips against yours.

It's soft and gentle as you kiss him again, but after a moment, one kiss turning into another and then another, your lips press harder against each other, hotter as it intensifies, your hand gripping his hair ever so slightly as he kisses you back just as hard before finally you force yourself to break away.

You shudder a breath as you part, catching your breath, but neither of you drop your hands.

Bucky's thumb gently strokes your cheek as you gaze into one another's eyes. So much unspoken, and yet so much being shared with the look alone.

The ringing of the tablet breaks you two up, though, as a FaceTime call pops up.

The contact is Natasha and seeing her name has you grabbing for the tablet and accepting the call right away.

"Hey," she greets as the sound of a movie playing in the background mingling with the giggles of children and fake cries for help from Steve can be heard just beyond her smoky voice.

"Hey, what's up? Did something happen?" you ask, hoping you don't sound as uncharacteristically panicked as you feel.

"That's what I was gonna ask you two. There a reason your daughter keeps twirling around shouting 'fucking dick' into the air every ten minutes?" She asks.

Your brows raise in surprise as your mouth parts open on nothing.

Bucky titters at the thought of that precious angel twirling around with a mouth like a sailor - a mouth like her mother. He smirks, answering for you.

"Yeah, that'd be thanks to her mother over here."

"Why am I not surprised," Nat responds.

"Sorry, she was mimicking me this morning and we didn't tell her to stop," you grimace. "Hey, can you put them on really quickly?"

"Yeah, that's actually the real reason I called. They wanted to say goodnight before they go to bed," she says as she walks into the living room.

"Linc, El, got some folks who wanna talk to you over here."

Your eyes light up as their perfect little faces fill the screen as Nat holds her phone for them.

When they register it's you and Bucky on screen, they smile brightly, calling out to you both.

"Hi, munchkins," you smile at the screen, Bucky right beside you.

"You guys getting ready for bed?" he asks.

"We're ready, Daddy! Just have to say goodnight to you and Mommy."

"Yeah we have to say goodnight so - and then we can sleep,"

You chuckle as Lincoln rubs his tired eyes.

"But I miss you Mommy," he pouts at the screen.

"'S okay, Linc," Ellie says as she takes her brother's hand, comforting him easily. You swear you're on the verge of tears as you smile at the sweetness.

"Sweetheart, I miss you, too. We miss both of you very much. But you guys are gonna have so much fun tomorrow! And we'll see you so soon, I promise. You two be good and listen to your Aunt and Uncle, okay? Oh, and Ellie,” her eyes widen as you say her name, looking attentively at your face on screen, “let's keep 'fucking dick' just an at home thing, alright?"

She giggles at your words but nods, "Okay, Mommy."

"Alright, goodnight you two," you say softly, not sure you’re ready to call it a night with them knowing what tomorrow is promised to bring.

"Goodnight, Mommy. I love you," they respond in unison.

"I love you more."

"Daddy's turn!" Linc calls for his father.

"Goodnight, Daddy," he says when Bucky leans further into the frame before you hand him the tablet to hold completely.

"Goodnight, Daddy," Ellie smiles.

"I love you," they say, again in unison. The sound is the cutest thing you've ever heard.

"Goodnight, guys. I love you more," he finishes with a soft, almost sad smile of his own before they run off the couch and chase Steve out of the room with the other kids. Nat offers you both a goodnight and a happy anniversary, parting with a wink before she hangs up.

"Those are ours," you say after a moment, astonishment lacing your tone.

"Yeah," Bucky chuckles. "We made those little punks."

"Ya know, I don't think we did too bad considering it's our first day."

"No, we were great. Naturals. They had absolutely no clue we'd never known them before today."

You laugh at that before the silence grows between you again. It's not something unusual for you guys, but the hot tension mounting in this moment in particular certainly is.

Bucky is still kneeling beside you, his large hand settled on your thick, plush thigh.

You scoot back, your weight pushing the chair. The movement allows his hand to smooth over your skin, sending sparks through you and raising goosebumps under his touch.

You try to pretend that it didn't send sparks alight in your belly as you move back further and stand, Bucky turning his gaze to follow your movements.

The sight of him on his knees before you, looking up at you with those devout blue eyes, it has your stomach fluttering as you take a deep breath.

He stands after a second, towering over you once again, somehow even closer now as you look up at him.

"What now?" you whisper.

"That's up to you, doll," he responds, voice lower than you've heard it before, his warmth radiating off of him and into you.

You see his hand twitch by his side, like he's holding himself back from reaching out and touching you again.

"Well," you swallow, "they said it's our anniversary, right?"

"Mhm,"

You raise your brows, shrugging the tiniest bit as you nervously lick your lips.

"You wanna celebrate?" you ask, your voice a little tight and heady as you flick your gaze back up to the darkening oceans of his eyes.

His lips crash into yours without another word, his speed catching you off guard as you gasp into his mouth. Bucky lifts you up like you weigh absolutely nothing and your legs circle around him as he holds you up, his lips never ceasing as he walks you out of the kitchen.

You only part to catch your breath, your forehead against his as he strides into the bedroom, your heavy breaths intermingling. Your hands are in his hair as your arms are wrapped around his neck.

He sets you down on the bed before backing away, granting you space you didn't ask for. You look at him, clearly not happy with the distance he'd put between you. Before you can say anything, Bucky speaks first.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" he asks intensely.

You look at him for a moment, hoping he can see the sincerity in your eyes. "If I'm being completely honest, Bucky, I've wanted you from the moment I met you. I wanna do this," you answer him. "I'm sure. Are you?"

Bucky pulls off his shirt as you breathe a sigh of relief, a soft titter escaping you as you watch him. He steps closer to you, taking your face in his hold, kissing you deeply. “I’m more than sure,” he speaks against your lips before pushing you back on the bed. The move has a scene playing in his mind and has him hesitating from going further as shame creeps up on him.

“I-,” he squeezes his eyes shut as he thinks through what he’s about to admit to, “I need to tell you something first.”

“What?” you ask, worry clear in your voice.

“I, well.. Hold on,” he says before getting up and leaving you sitting on the bed confused and concerned.

Bucky returns with the tablet in hand as you eye him.

He looks like a kid about to confess his wrongdoings, eyes down on the tablet as he approaches you slowly.

“I, uh. I came across this, and.. Uhm,” he clears his throat, “I,” he takes a heavy breath, “I.. watched.. it.” he says stuntedly. “Well, not all of it, but more than I should have..”

You’re confused as he hands the tablet over to you, but take it with a quirked brow.

An image of Bucky shirtless is on the screen and you trepidatiously hit the play button, wondering what the video could possibly be.

Your eyes go wide as you see yourself on the bed in lingerie, Bucky sporting nothing more than a pair of tight boxers. You look up at Bucky still standing before you as a blush grows on his cheeks. You watch, still wide eyed as it goes on. You’re on your back, Bucky leaning over you, and god help you, there’s a tingling in your core growing as you look on.

“No way,” you say in disbelief as it suddenly connects in your mind, eyes flicking back and forth between him and to the screen. “Is this-? Did we-? And you watched it?” you ask, scandalized as your gaze shoots back up to him.

He rubs the back of his neck self consciously, avoiding your gaze. “I know,” he says sheepishly - you’ve never seen him like this and it’s honestly a little entertaining, a bit endearing. “I’m-” your moan coming from the speaker cuts him off and grabs your attention as you look back down at the screen, mouth going dry as your core is anything but.

“Fuck,” you breathe as you watch Bucky on his knees, between your legs. You almost stop breathing before you look away, catching yourself and pausing the video. “Uhm. Well, that’s- this is.. Unexpected. I mean, obviously we- they- have.. sex, but, a sex tape?”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have watched it, especially not as far as I did, and I just-”

“How far did you watch?” you ask, cutting him off.

You watch as he swallows hard before sitting down next to you, taking the tablet and scrolling to about the point he had stopped when he closed the video.

“Twenty five minutes?” you ask with a light laugh, looking at the time stamp, the screen paused on a still of you pulling him down on top of your naked body.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, clearly ashamed of himself. You can’t help but laugh, loving how remorseful he seems.

“‘S’okay,” you say with a light shake of your head, pulling the tablet from his hand and locking the screen, tossing it on the opposite side of the bed. It’s not until you straddle his lap that he looks at you finally, his hands coming up without thought to hold your waist. His eyes twinkle with something akin to wonder. “I get it, can’t blame you,” you admit, your arms draped over his broad shoulders before slipping them behind his neck. “It’s hot,” you speak sultrily, leaning closer to him, allowing your lips to brush his briefly.

His eyes fall to your lips as he breathes headily, pulling you flush to him as he holds you tighter. “You think?”

“Mhm,” you nod, your chest brushing against his bare one with your every breath before you finally let yourself kiss him once again, your noses brushing against one another.

His arms still holding you, Bucky turns you both onto the bed, ending up above you as you continue your soft makeout. His hands wander your body, touching and squeezing your softness lightly as you sigh under him, your hands wandering his body in turn. You feel like a teenager, experiencing something you’d only thought about in the far recesses of your mind for the first time, it’s intimate and exciting and you don’t even care to take this any further, your focus only on feeling each other, on being this close.

The ringing of the tablet, though, breaks through the moment. You glance over as Bucky continues kissing you, his lips on your neck as you try to read the screen - but it’s too far and out of your reach.

“Bucky,” you urge him, causing him to finally break away from you, turning to look at who was calling.

His eyes squint as he sits up, reaching for the tablet and answering the call.

“Steve?” he answers in question.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt, Buck. Linc’s having a hard time going to sleep, he wanted to talk to you again, I told him I’d give you a call.”

“Yeah, yeah, put him on,” he responds.

There’s a sniffle before Lincoln’s soft voice comes through the speaker, “Daddy?”

“Hey, buddy, it’s me. What’s going on, having trouble sleeping?” he asks, sitting up more attentively as you watch him.

“Miss you,” Lincoln answers solemnly, you can imagine him rubbing at his teary eyes already as you hear him sniffle again, your heart clenching at the image. “I need Wolfie, Daddy. You forgot to bring Wolfie,” you can hear his pout over the line.

“I’m sorry, pal,” Bucky apologizes sincerely, despite neither of you having had any knowledge of “Wolfie” being a necessity. “How ‘bout we bring you Wolfie?” he asks before looking over to you briefly.

“Yeah, can you bring him to me please, Daddy?” he puffs.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll bring him right now, buddy. Don’t worry, we’ll be there soon, I promise.”

“Okay,” he says, voice wobbly. “Love you, Daddy,” he adds breathily on a huff, sounding on the very verge of tears.

“I love you, too, buddy. We’ll be right there.”

“He’s on his way, champ,” Steve says as he takes it off speaker, bringing the phone back to his ear. “Sorry, guys,” he offers to you both.

“Don’t worry about it, we were just, uh,... hangin’ out,” he says, scrunching his face at his own stupid response as you give him a ‘what the hell’ look, your hand gesturing of its own accord.

“Oh-kay,” Steve says at the odd response, “What is up with you guys today?”

“Uhhh,”

“Wait, don’t tell me.. Are you guys expecting again?” he asks, voice hushed.

“Yeah,” Bucky answers stupidly on an exhale, your mouth dropping while you gawk at him.

“Really?”

“No,” Bucky answers quickly again, “I mean, maybe. We don’t- we’re not sure. We don’t know,” he tries to remedy his previous baseless answer. “Look, I have to find Wolfie, so I’ll see ya in a minute.” He doesn’t wait for Steve to respond before he ends the call on his end.

“What the fuck was that?” you say on a titter.

His face is in his hands as he sits on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, “I don’t know.” His response is muffled by his hands as you crawl over to him, pushing on his back to make him stand up.

“Go get the wolf,” you say as you push on him.

As he stands, you get off the bed, too, throwing his shirt at him before he turns to the door.

“Ya know, you’d think you’d be better at this,” you taunt, earning a glare from him as he heads to the kid’s room down the hall.

“Can you go start the car?” he huffs as you watch him walk away.

You stifle a laugh through your nose, “Mhm,” you answer before heading down the hall yourself, grabbing the keys on your way out.

As you turn to close the front door, you’re surprised as Bucky’s already behind you, the plush white wolf in hand.

“You’re so slow,” he teases, taking the keys from your hand while you blink up at him, a smirk on his face as he passes you while you just watch, your turn to huff.

“Dick,” you accuse as you follow him, his smirk only growing at your insult before he gets to the passenger door, holding it open for you to get in.

#bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size!reader #bucky x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #dad!bucky #mom!reader #bucky x plus size!reader #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #the-slumberparty writing challenge

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buckys-wintersoldier · 3 months

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Already Mine | Bucky Barnes; Part Two

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 -> Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 -> After the first time together and the confessing of your feelings the two are in a relationship. When the morning sickness starts and your period isn’t there in time you do a pregnancy test.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 -> 4.665

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 -> (E) 18+, Minors DNI, pregnancy test, slight angst, Bucky’s past trauma, Smut, fingering (fem!receiving), unprotected p in v, breeding kink, dirty talk, using the word slut, praises, a lot of fluff

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 -> Idea for already mine pt 2. Reader and Bucky and together now, but after that night, unless its Bucky groaning about how he is going to impregnate the reader as he fills her up, they have never spoken about it outside the bedroom. so when the test comesout positive, the reader is worried if thats what Bucky wants with the whole 'im still getting used to the new world and repaying my sins' thing going on. so she feels really scared and breaks down when Bucky asks her about it. and when she does tell him, he's so elated atthe same time a tad bit upset and himself that you feel like he wouldnt want the child? so basically smut, like smut with a lot lot lot of feral talk at the same time love filled breeding kink, claiming, him telling her how he is gonna marry her. just a lot of lust and love and dirty talking. yeah. @almosttoopizza

𝐀/𝐍 -> Thank you so much for the idea for the second part of Already Mine. And I hope you like what I made with it.

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 -> Already Mine | Part One

Fandom-Free Bingo: Frosty Edition | B2 | Stripped | @fandom-free-bingo

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Since the two of you had your first time together, you haven’t really talked about details. You two are together, but none of you is mentioning anything about getting kids. Bucky has a huge breeding kink, and you really don’t mind; you like it, and whenever you have sex, he has such a filthy mouth, and hearing his sexy thoughts turns you on beyond belief. His hands are all over your body, and his cock is buried inside of you, while he tells you how good you feel and that he will give you a lot of little kids who are all like him and are at the same time hot and cute.

Right now, you’re lying with Bucky behind you in your shared bed. His arm is wrapped around your stomach, holding you tightly against him. Bucky snores softly into your neck, his warm breath giving you goosebumps all over your body. You smile softly, his warmth running through your body, and you lean more into him.

You wear a shirt and boxers, and his hand is placed underneath the shirt on your bare skin. After a long night and a lot of orgasms, he cleaned the two of you and gave you some clothes to wear - your favorite ones, because they are his.

When you slowly turn around to look at your boyfriend, you feel an uncomfortable and hurting feeling growing in your stomach. It slowly crawls higher until it reaches your throat, and you feel like you just want to throw up to get rid of everything you ate yesterday. You hold one of your hands on your stomach, and while you wiggle out of Bucky’s arm, you place his arm next to you and get out of bed. Then you almost run into the bathroom, and just in time, you manage to sit in front of it before you lean over it and let go of everything that comes out of you. Tears are burning in your eyes. When you lean back, a quiet sob escapes your mouth, and you hold your hand under your chin, looking at the wall while your stomach feels like it’s spinning around.

Bucky feels your shifting, and when you remove his hand, he growls softly. He listens to your footsteps, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion when he hears you walking really fast. And when he hears you throwing up, he almost jumps out of bed. On his way into the bathroom, he grabs a blanket and a bottle of water. You’re still sitting in front of the toilet, crying while you throw up a second time. Bucky walks closer, getting on his knees next to you and wrapping the blanket around your trembling body. He holds you close and makes you a bun, then he strokes your back softly.

“Is oke, are you feeling better?” he asks, softly wiping a few tears out of your face.

You shake your head, holding your stomach, while you press yourself more against him. His warm embrace relaxes you a bit. Bucky moves slowly forward and backward, and then he offers you the bottle of water.

After a few more minutes, you feel better, and Bucky helps you get up and carries you into bed. His hand strokes your forehead, but it’s not hot, so he relaxes softly. Maybe you just ate something you shouldn’t have eaten? Without a word, you know that he is worried about you, but he tries his best to hide it. His ocean-blue eyes aren’t as bright as usual when he shifts softly.

“I’m fine, Buck. Maybe just a gastrointestinal infection,” you say and sit up, with your back against the headboard. You smirk. “But I’m hungry now.”

Bucky chuckles, pressing you softly back when you try to get up. His eyebrow is raised when you look at him, pouting, but he just kisses away and turns around to make his way to the kitchen.

“Don’t even think of getting up; I will bring you your food, doll,” he shouts from the floor, his voice demanding, and you know better than to disobey him.

With a groan, you look for the remote on the television, turn it on, and look through the channel until you find something good to watch. When Bucky comes back with two places in your hands, you inhale deeply, and your smile grows when you smell your favorite food.

“You’re the best, Bucky,” you say, taking the plate he hands you.

“I know; that’s why I’m your boyfriend.”

Bucky walks around the bed and sits down next to you. The two of you enjoy your breakfast, your stomach feels slightly better, and after getting a lot of kisses from your boyfriend, you’re happy and don’t even think about your stomachache.

— —

After a few more days and the morning sickness still being there, you call your best friend, Natasha. She usually has an explanation for everything about women’s issues and always knows how to cheer you up. Bucky is currently in a meeting and won’t be home before dinner, so you pick up your phone from the bed and unlock it before you call Nat.

“Hey, girly,” she greets you happily, and you smirk. “What’s up? Bucky said you’re not feeling well in the mornings?”

You hum softly. Bucky asked you to talk with Steve and Natasha, and of course, you allowed him. Especially since he gets used to things in modern times. For you and the others, those things are normal, but for him, it’s sometimes like the biggest science thing. So is his relationship with you, and he wants to be the best boyfriend he can be for you. When he needs help, he turns to either you or Steve, and because he lives with Natasha, she is always aware of it. But you don’t mind; she is your best friend, like Steve.

“Yeah. And my period, I- Nat, I didn't have it for a while now.”

You hear the gasp on the other side of the phone, and then she almost screams in excitement.

“You know what that means, right? You’re pregnant!”

“But- Do you think Bucky can get children? I mean, because of the things Hydra did with him, don’t you think they took care that he wouldn’t be able to get kids? In case he would have had sex with someone?”

Nat is quiet for a moment, then she clears her throat.

“You can find it out really easily. Just make a test, and when it’s positive, you know that he can get kids,” she says, amused.

“What when it’s positive and he doesn’t want any?”

“Damn, he is in love with you more than that. He can’t even look at you without smiling; when he wants something, it’s a family with you,” she says softly, but you just hum.

When you both hang up, you walk into the bathroom. You got a test from Natasha and Steve a while ago. It was a party - hosted by Tony - and you played a game where you gave your best friends a present they could or could not need at some point. When you’re in the bathroom, you look for the test and read the instructions, then you do what they tell you to do. After placing it on the counter, you look at your phone, and in fifteen minutes, you know if you’re pregnant or not.

Those fifteen minutes feel like forever; the pregnancy test doesn’t show you a result before, even when you look at it every minute. Your heart races, and your head spins slightly because of the nervousness. You hear your blood rushing through your veins, your phone still in your hand while you look up and down from it. You shift from one foot to the other, sweat covering your forehead, when the result is almost there.

Your mind is filled with so many thoughts about Bucky; how would he react when you’re pregnant? Would he leave you, or does he really want a child with you? Is he already ready to have a child at all? Are you ready for a child? Does your relationship break when you’re pregnant, or would he still love you? During sex, the thoughts of being pregnant are definitely different; they are hot. But with the test in front of you, it’s another feeling between happiness and nervousness - your feelings are a complete mess.

You haven’t recognized that you stare at the wall until your phone vibrates and you look down, looking at the teat that tells you if you’re pregnant or not. A part of you hopes to see a yes; the other part is unsure how you feel when it shows you that you would carry Bucky’s baby inside your belly.

When you finally look down and read what the pregnancy test tells you, you feel the tears streaming down your cheeks. Every emotion overcomes you, and you let yourself fall to the ground, your legs pressing against your chest while you hold your legs tightly. You sob loudly, a bit because of happiness and a bit because you don’t know how to handle the emotions you have at the moment. You’re pregnant. With Bucky, you are going to become parents, and it feels so fantastic that you just can’t help but cry.

Your phone vibrates a few times next to you, but you’re just staring at the pregnancy test in your hands; you can’t believe it. The smile across your face grows whenever you read the word “pregnant” written on the little display of the test.

When you slowly calm down and look at your phone, you see a message Bucky sent just a few minutes ago. He asked what you wanted to eat and if he should bring some or if you wanted to cook. You smile when you scroll the message down and see the bunch of emojis he used. There are a lot of hearts and other cute emojis, and between them is written “I love you, my precious doll” and your smile grows when you see that. As much as he looks like a complete jerk when he uses emojis, you absolutely love and adore it. You tell him to bring some food, then you stand up and pick up the pregnancy test, bringing it into the bedroom to place it in your wardrobe.

You’re still unsure how to feel, especially how to tell Bucky and how he reacts when you tell him that the two of you have become parents. You love him, and you know he loves you, but that doesn’t mean that he wants or is ready for the next step in your relationship.

When Bucky comes home, you’re sitting in bed, watching television. He walks into your shared bedroom, smiling widely when he holds the food in his hands. You smile back, but not the way he is used to seeing you when he comes home. Usually you would hug him and ask him quietly for a lot of kisses, but now you’re sitting in bed and waiting until he comes closer and kisses you softly.

“Hey, doll. Everything alright?”

You nod, and he places the food on your lap. Then he takes off his shoes and jacket and sits down next to you. You hand him his food, not really looking at him or talking to him. Bucky clenches his jaw. Did he do something wrong? Are you mad at him because of something? Or don’t you love him anymore?

“Baby?”

“Mhm?”

You look at him, smiling softly, but it’s not the real smile that is formed on your lips. It’s a forced one, and Bucky feels uncomfortable when he sees you not being as happy as he is used to seeing you and you trying to hide it.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks, looking at you with his beautiful blue eyes.

Your lips start to tremble, and your body shakes slightly, but Bucky sees it; he sees the way you try to hide the upcoming tears in your eyes. Even when you turn your head away and let the tears stream down your cheeks to hide them, Bucky grips your chin and tilts it towards him, making you look at him.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks, and his voice shakes slightly.

You shake your head, not able to say something without crying. He rubs his big hand over the small of your back. The way Bucky touches you and his warm hand feels against your body helps you calm down. The feelings are overwhelming, but you also want to tell him that you’re pregnant and let him feel the happiness you feel.

“I-I’m- Bucky; don’t be mad, but we- we’re pregnant,” you mumble, looking at everything but him, in case he isn’t as happy as you about it.

He gasps; a smile forms on his lips, but it fades away as fast as it came. Bucky is happy to become the father of a child that he will have with you, but the way you don’t look at him and have cried before makes him unsure. He definitely misread your expression, and he feels guilty for impregnating you. Maybe you don’t want to have a child; maybe you do, but not with him. When you turn your head, you see his cold expression. He doesn’t smile; he just stares at you. Then he gets up and walks out of the bedroom, not even saying a word.

When he leaves the room, you start to cry again, your hands holding your belly and stroking it softly. You don’t understand why he acts like that. Isn’t he happy to become a dad? Isn’t he ready to have a child, or does he want to have a family with someone else and feels like he is responsible for you now?

Bucky rushes out of the room, his hands sliding through his hair, and he tugs at them harshly. He should have used a condom, and you should have used protection. Now you carry a baby inside of you, and he already loves the little one, but you don’t, do you? How can you love a child who is from a person like him, a cold assassin? Someone who doesn’t know how modern technology works until someone explains it to him: How can you love him now when you have a baby inside your wonderful belly, his baby inside it. You didn’t even look at him; you cried because of him because he breeds you. Because he was so needy and needed to fuck a baby inside of you. A thought he loves, but a thought you seem to hate. He blames himself, and now he just ran out of the room to get some air. How can you love him when he can’t be there for you? How can he care for someone so small and innocent?

You get out of bed, tears blurring your view, but you just want to know what Bucky thinks about your child. So you make your way to the door, and when you look through the floor, you see him at the end of it, sitting on the ground and crying silently that he messed up so badly and that you probably don’t want him to be the dad of the child. His hands tug at his hair, while his knees are pressed against his body.

The picture in front of you reminds you of the first time you met Bucky, when he suffered because of his nightmare and his past. When he wasn’t able to get sleep, he just wanted to get some comfort and love. And it hurts you to see him like that again; you don’t want anything else but to see him happy. You have happy news, but he looks like he isn’t happy about them?

With a few slow steps, you walk closer to him. He recognizes you, but he doesn’t look up. Bucky doesn’t want you to see the trails of tears on his cheeks, and he doesn’t want you to see his red eyes. You kneel in front of him, then you capture his cheeks with your hands and make him look up at you. Your eyes are as red as his, but the blue shinning when he sees you can push the darkest clouds away.

“Bucky, we- we don’t have to become a child when you’re not ready yet. Even when you never want a child with me, it’s oke. I love you, and that is all that matters,” you say, your thumbs slowly wiping his tears away.

“I-I want it? But it seemed like you didn't want it. "I thought it was because you don't want a child with me," Bucky murmurs, his gaze drawn to your lips.

“I want. You can give me as many babies as you want, as long as they are like you.”

When he smiles, you lean closer and kiss him softly. His soft, plumb lips brush against yours, and you sigh. The warmth is rushing through your body until it reaches your cunt, and you press your legs together.

“Time for lunch?” Bucky asks with a smirk, mischievous and needy, and you nod.

You both stand up, and before you can take a step backwards, he lifts you up. You squeal, then you wrap your legs and arms around him. Bucky’s hands slide to your ass, squeezing it while he hums. He walks along the floor until he reaches your bedroom and walks into it, letting you fall onto the bed. Bucky towers over you, his lips chasing yours, and you melt into his touch. The food that is still on the bed finds its way onto the floor, and when you want to complain about the mess, Bucky shushes you with a lovely and passionate kiss. His hand slides down your sides, and he kisses your jaw and neck before he kneels down between your legs. He lifts your t-shirt, his metal hand slowly stroking your belly.

“Hey, little one. Make some space, yeah? I want to give your mommy some pleasure.” Bucky mumbles and kisses your stomach, making you laugh.

Bucky looks at you, smiling, before he trails kisses down your body until he reaches the waistband of your pants. With one movement, he takes your pants together, with your panties off, and groans when he sees your glistening folds. His fingers trail along your thighs before he slides two of his metal fingers through your folds, making you whine. He plays softly with your clit before he lets go to you and takes off his t-shirt, knowing that you get turned on even more when you see his bare skin and especially his muscles flexing while he makes you cum in his fingers.

“Take off your shirt and bra; I want to see my precious doll without the covering fabric,” he groans, and wait until you do, like he told you.

You sit up and take off the shirt, then you open the bra to let it slide down your arms and place it next to you. Bucky smiles, leaning closer to kiss your thighs while his hands are stoking over your sides and lower belly, before he uses his metal hand to glide his fingers through your folds, making you squirm. Bucky’s eyes are focused on your wet pussy, and with his broad shoulder, he holds your legs spread apart. He slowly guides his fingers further down until he reaches your entrance and dips his fingertip into it. You’re clenching around nothing, and Bucky chuckles while he slowly works his finger into your wet, tight hole. You moan, pushing yourself more against him. Bucky pushes his finger completely inside of you, slowly stroking your walls before he pulls it out of you and pushes his finger back inside of you. The cold of his metal finger lets you shiver, but you like the cold compared to your hot skin.

“You’re feeling so well around my finger already,” he mumbles, kissing your thigh.

Then he adds another finger, massaging your sweet spot softly while your moans are getting louder and you arch your back. Your fingers are digging into the bed sheets, grounding yourself.

“That’s it; come for me,” he says in a demanding tone.

He knows your body so well that he can tell how often he needs to stroke your sweet spot to make you come, how much your walls are clenching when you’re close, and how your moans sound when you’re at the edge of letting go and letting the pleasure flow through you.

“Bucky-“ you moan, lips parted slightly.

You come all over his fingers; your juice is flowing over his fingers; and the sound when he pushes his fingers in and out of you makes it all so much hotter. With another stroke of his fingers against your sweet spot, you squirt all over his fingers, and he smirks while he slows the pace of his fingers.

“Mhm, you did so well for me, doll. Made just a mess all over me. Now I’m gonna breed you. I pump you so full with my babies. You won’t be able to walk for at least a day when I have my seeds all in you, when you’re sweating but still begging for more. You will be such a little slut for my dick, won’t you?”

You moan; the way he talks to you makes you needier, and you press yourself against him. You’re so desperate for him and his cock. Bucky gets up, opening his belt and zipper before he takes his pants off, throwing them somewhere in the room. His rock-hard member is visible through his boxers, pre-cum soaking the fabric, and you bite your bottom lip. Bucky slips his underwear down as well, revealing his hard cock. Then he walks closer, leaning over you. Bucky kisses a trail from your throat down to your breasts, biting your skin softly.

“Mhm, I love you, every inch of you, baby,” he groans and kisses along your breasts, leaving hickeys all over your collarbone. “All mine; see, you’re all mine.”

His hands slide your sides up and down, causing goosebumps all over your body. Bucky chuckles softly, capturing your cheeks and pressing his lips against yours. Bucky helps you to move further into the bed, kneeling between your legs while his thick cock slides over your pussy, making you gasp softly.

“Bucky-“

“Shh, you get my cock.”

Your fingers are grabbing his hair, tugging at it while you pull him closer. His blue eyes pierce into yours, his hands slide down between your bodies, and he grips the base of his member, guiding his tip through your wet folds. Bucky smears his pre-cum and your juices all over his tip, groaning softly. Then he lines himself up with your entrance and pushes slowly inside of you. He stretches you perfectly, making you moan into his mouth while he enters you inch by inch. Your nails are digging into Bucky’s shoulder, holding him close. Your walls clench deliciously around his thick cock.

“You feel so good; I want to come immediately inside you. I will fill you and give you all. And then you will carry our pretty little babies, my precious doll,” Bucky says, kissing your cheek while he doesn’t move his dick inside of you.

“Please, move,” you whine, arching your back and pressing yourself more against him.

“So desperate, aren’t you? You look so innocent, but you’re such a little desperate slut for my dick, aren’t you?”

“Fuck, Bucky.”

“Tell me, are you my little cock-hungry slut?”

“I’m. I’m your little cock-hungry slut, but please move.”

Bucky grins, pulling slowly out of you before he pushes his dick back inside of you. You’re clenching around him, your walls holding him tightly, and you moan when he hits your sweet spot immediately. A rough chuckle leaves his lips while he rolls his hips against yours, his dick fitting perfectly into your wet, warm hole, and the sounds that leave your mouth - so desperate and needy - making Bucky go crazy. His cock hits all the right spots, and you grip his shoulders harsher, pressing your hips more against him. Bucky slowly starts to thrust into you, and at a steady pace, he hits your sweet spot whenever he is inside of you. You’re just a moaning mess underneath him, nails digging into his soft skin, while he looks with so much adoration in his eyes at you that you want to melt.

“My precious doll. I’m gonna breed you. Give you all I have, and you will be filled completely. My cum is going to leak out of you, and I will push it all back so you will get so many little babies with me,” Bucky mumbles, his forehead resting against yours.

You smile; he has such a filthy mouth when you have sex, and the way his body feels against yours and his dick feels inside your walls makes you feel complete. His member is stroking your walls so perfectly. You clench around him, squeeze him, and Bucky wants to bury his dick all the time between your tight wall.

“I love you so much; you will be the best mother. We are going to be parents, baby. You make me so happy, and becoming the daddy of our little pretty baby, having a family with you, doll-“ Bucky interrupts himself and presses his lips on yours.

You giggle softly until his thrusts become faster and harder. He chuckles while he thrusts with a harsh pace inside of you. Bucky’s metal hand slides down between your legs; he rubs small circles on your clit, making you gasp and moan even louder. Your back is arched, Bucky’s hands gripping his shoulder tighter, he slides his hand up your body, and then he lets his body fall on top of yours. His warm chest is pressed against yours, sweat coating both of your bodies.

“Come, doll. All over my dick, squeeze my dick like the good girl you are,” he says, kissing and biting softly the soft skin of your neck.

The trimmed hair is gracing over your clit, and your eyes roll back. The pleasure in your stomach grows while Bucky looks at you, focused on your face while your orgasm rushes through your body. You mumble Bucky’s name over and over while you come. Your toes curl, and you press your thighs together, or at least as much as it’s possible with Bucky between them. Your walls clench around him, squeezing him. Bucky doesn’t need long until he comes inside your pussy. His white, warm seeds are painting your walls. Bucky breathes heavily, thrusting a few more times inside of you before he kisses you. Your hands are running through his sweaty hair, and you tug at them, making him groan.

“Do you need more? Do you need to be filled with more cum? Such a filthy little doll,” he says, smirking. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Buck.”

“You know my dick will be inside of you until I’m sure you’re pregnant with more of my babies.”

“You know that I can’t be more pregnant when I’m already pregnant?”

Bucky nods, but he doesn’t move an inch. He is pushing his seeds with his dick deep into your pussy, and he looks so proud that you laugh softly.

“You’re cute, you know that?” you ask.

“You know that you have to deal with more of me in a bit, right?”

His eyes light up when he asks that question; anticipation flows through his veins, and he kisses every inch of your face. Making you giggle. You haven’t seen Bucky happy like that in a while, but you’re glad he is happy, especially because it’s of you, and that the two of you will become parents to a little one soon.

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨

𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬

┗━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┛

Taglist: @nicoline1998enilocin @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @sergeantbarnessdoll @kandis-mom @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @randomawesomeperson102 @rogersbarber @bucky-barnes-lover @felicitylemon @cjand10 @bookishtheaterlover7 @casa-boiardi @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry

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writingstoraes · 11 months

Text

tour guide 🎥

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!actress!reader

type: instagram imagine, social media au

notes: saw the post abt apex filming at silverstone this week and got this idea lol lmk what u guys think! atp you already know who my fc is (it's hailee steinfeld 😝)

about: a well-known actress stars in a film that is set in the world of formula 1 and scuderia ferrari happens to be the leading team to guide the production team and its cast!

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, zendaya, madelyncline, and 1,249,247 others

yourusername Film prep starts now. Currently glad my parents forced me into getting my driver's license as early as I could as well as my brother introducing me to Formula 1 years ago 🏁

Beyond excited for this movie!

allhailyn WE LOVE U QUEEN WE CANT WAIT

filmthusiast this is such a new role for her im so excited

f1lover film + f1 is always going to be the biggest bestest combo ❤️

lecsluv LMAOOO NOT CHARLES LIKING THIS

zendayyn mans a fan norrisbaby Oh hes quick 😆

yourusername recently added to her instagram story!

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, pierregasly, and 1,482,2058 others

yourusername 3/4 done with filming for First Gear 🤍 So much work has been done for this movie and it's been the good kind of overwhelming so far. I've learned so much and experienced so many new things.

Included the one and only charles_leclerc here because majority of the things I learned came from him. He's pretty nice except he was beyond nervous when I drove the car for the first time.

scuderiaferrari We're glad to know Charles was the best tour guide ever! ❤️

lecsmmylove NOT FERRARI STICKING WITH THE TOUR GUIDE DESCRIPTION???

hamilfilm charles leclerc making his way into y/n's official ig account is not something i have on my bingo card

popgirltay u guys r so cute <3 friendship goals!

livelovelecs no, dating announcement next LOLOL

charles_leclerc Why do I seem like the bad guy here, I taught you pretty well didn't I?

yourusername I didn't say you were a bad teacher 😕

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari, and 1,102,358 others

charles_leclerc Everyday's karting day 🚘

lecsferrari the red nails??? sir u aint slick who is that

sainzmclaren It's Y/N 😭 She posted karting pics today too

yourusername What do you have to say for yourself that you lost?

charles_leclerc I let you win, jolie 😁 Pretty. ferarrimercs HE CALLED HER PRETTY?????

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, zendaya, kendall, and 1,395,299 others

yourusername The student has become the teacher 😎

charles_leclerc Anyone would win if they were fighting kids on track

yourusername I sense sore loser 😝

leclercsyn TOO CUTE IM GONNA COMBUST

scuderiaferrari ❤️❤️❤️

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, zendaya, florencepugh, and 2,034,551 others

yourusername Feeling so emotional that filming for a movie that holds a special place in my heart has come to an end 🤍 I am so ecstatic for all of you to see First Gear because everyone involved put everything they had for this film. I hope you guys love this as much as I do, possibly more.

So many people to thank — the directors, producers, scriptwriters, my co-stars, everyone who's worked so hard to make this into reality, I owe you all so much.

But I also never thought I'd meet someone so special. Charles, this past year for us have been so crazy and I'm glad I got to spend it with you. If it helps, the moment they told me you would be giving me a tour of the paddock, I fell instantly 😝

leclercsyn MY PARENTS AAAAA IM SCREAMING

scuderiaferrari We are so proud of you, Y/N ❤️ The whole team is waiting for the movie!

charles_leclerc What do you mean if it helps, I was literally sweating while telling you what a pitwall is

lecslover HES SO FUNNYHTBHRHB

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, ynleclercs16, pierregasly, and 1,673,992 others

charles_leclerc Most talented person I've come across. Watching you on set has become one of my favorite things to do; it reminds me of just how amazing you are. To more karting sessions with you ❤️

Sincerely,

Your paddock tour guide

lecshamilton hes owning the tour guide title, mad respect

sainzlove I AM MELTINGGGGG

f1luvr power couple me thinks?

yourusername Get ready to lose 🥱

--------

tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12, @siovhanroy

notes: why i take so much time making these ill never understand anyway i hope u guys like this hehehe thank you sm for reading <3

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itsjusthockey · 7 months

Text

Boo - Jack Hughes

I had no idea where this was going but it worked

Enjoy

Please request bitches, I need inspiration

wc:1.088 (credit to gif maker)

To Jack, there is nothing more sexy than a beautiful woman lying in his bed, completely ignoring him. Or maybe it was just you. To be fair, he can’t help it; Jack finds everything about you quite sexy, even when you haven’t paid a single ounce of attention to him in the past fifteen minutes, no matter what he’s done.

He tries everything. First, he calls your name, which you ignore. Then he starts making noises that you hate, which you ignore, and then he starts to remove his clothes, which causes you to flash him a quick glance, roll your eyes, and return to your computer.

He is about to give up when he decides he has one final trick up his sleeve. Removing himself from the chair, Jack puts himself face down on the floor, letting out a huge sigh.

Still nothing. So he goes again.

Three sighs later, you huff indignantly, shutting your computer.

“Whatever could you possibly be sighing about, Jack?”

Bingo. He turns to look at you, throwing you a sheepish smile.

“I’ve got a lot on my shoulders, babe.” Jack takes another deep breath and sighs dramatically. “Being rich, talented, and handsome is incredibly tiring work.”

You snort. “I bet, baby, it’s so hard being you.”

You give him a fake pout before moving to get off the bed, stepping over him on the way to the bathroom. He watches like a hawk as you grab a few things, pee, and walk back, stepping over him again.

“What do I have to do to get some attention around here?” He finally asks, throwing you a pointed glance as you ponder his question.

“J, I’m sorry, but you know I have to do this. I can give you all the attention in the world once I finish this discussion. Okay?”

He raises his eyebrow. “Promise?”

You nod, and he places his head back down when an idea pops in his head.

“(Y/N)?”

“Yes?”

“Ballpark, how long until you're done?”

He hears you sigh, and a part of him feels terrible, but he knows it’s worth it.

“Probably 45 minutes to an hour.”

He lets out an okay and gets up, gently pressing a kiss to your cheek, which you barely register him. He makes his way to the bathroom and hops in for a quick shower, using the new fall-scented soap that you got him that both love.

Minutes later, he takes a quick glance at you as he throws on some gray sweats, and he smirks, knowing he still has time. You’re beyond focused with your headphones on, and Jack genuinely believes he could drop dead, and you wouldn’t know.

He makes his way outside into the living space, seeing Luke sprawled across the couch, watching an Avengers movie on the TV.

“What’s up?” Luke questions, watching as he heads to the closet that holds their hockey gear.

“I got some stuff yesterday for a thing I saw on TikTok, and (Y/N) needs a fun night.”

Jack pulls out the various fall items that he won’t lie; he enjoyed picking out. There are snacks, little games, candles, a stuffed pumpkin, and anything else he thought you would like.

He moves into action, putting together the basket and calling for an Uber Eats order. Luke, realizing what is going on, begins to laugh.

“You got her a boo-basket?”

“Shhhh, she’s right In there.” Jack jerks his head toward his bedroom.

Luke throws up his hand in surrender. “Sorry, I just didn’t think this was your thing. You’re not great at the whole romance thing all the time.”

Jack throws him a stern look and gives the pumping a gentle squeeze. “You tell anyone, I’ll kill you.”

Jack finishes putting the basket together and places it on the center island. He then moves to dim the lights and light a candle, nodding at his good work.

“Alright, almost perfect.” He says, eyes landing on Luke. “Just one more thing.”

Luke shoots him a curious look. “What's that?”

“You’re here.” Jack points his finger toward the door. “Out.”

Luke rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue, heading toward the door. He doesn’t get far before stealing a couple of Halloween Oreos and throwing Jack a wink on the way out.

As the door slams shut behind Luke, Jack waits for what feels like an eternity for you to exit the bedroom.

He can hardly contain his excitement and nerves as he watches you walk in confused, taking in the cozy setup. You pause, and he smiles, but that’s wiped away when he sees tears welling up in your eyes.

He’s a second away from panicking when you walk over to him, throwing your arms around him in a bone-crushing hug.

“You did this for me?”

You pull back from him, and he gently pulls your chin up so your lips meet his.

“Actually, for Nico, but he’s running late, so I’ll guess you’ll work.”

You roll your eyes at him again, pulling him in for another sweet kiss.

“This is so sweet, J.”

Jack watches as you look through all the goodies, getting more excited with each item. When you get to the pumpkin plush, you wheeze it so hard to your chest, and he practically melts.

“I love it, Jack, seriously.”

He pulls you back into his arms, relieved that his surprise has had the desired effect.

“Good, you deserve it," he whispers, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

The evening continues as you both enjoy your favorite food that's just arrived. You cozy up on the couch, surrounded by the fall-themed goodies and the warm, dimly lit room. The candles flicker, casting a soft, inviting glow, and the two of you dive into the snacks and games Jack picked out, sharing laughter and watching your favorite Halloween shows.

It’s picture-perfect as the first movie starts to come to a close, and Jack can feel you staring at him.

“You know, you’re the most annoying boyfriend ever, but sometimes.” You pause, popping an Oreo in your mouth. “You do have your moments.”

Jack attacks you for your comment, flipping you both over and ticking your sides. You play fight for a minute before he stops, staring deep into your eyes as you smile.

“So, are you ready to fulfill your promise?” He raises his eyebrow, moving his head down to capture your lips.

You roll your eyes, grabbing his head and pulling him down.

“I’m all yours.”

#hockey #hockey boys #imagine #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #hockey x reader #nhl hockey #nhl x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #luke hughes #nhl fic #nhl #nhl players #nhl blurb #new jersey devils #nj devils

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monkey-network · 1 month

Text

Good Stuff: Bluey's The Sign

Bluey is still great and I don't need to go into why again. What's most important is that even in such short time of knowing this cartoon, you can see the growth of it all. Joe and the crew share how the world of the Heeler family gets to learn, adapt, and grow without rapidly warping the status quo. You go through and see how everyone is able to work through rough and weird times with sincere maturity. Season 3's Finale is where this all comes to a head and it's as beautiful as I expected, MORESO.

Brandi got to be happy would've been enough for me

The Sign deals with the idea of hard ideas. Those hard ideas that aren't inherently about change, but issues that when faced with initially, it feels like a bad ending. A bad ending which can't be easily fixed and you don't know where to go from there, and it hurts. It hurts when hard ideas swoop in, ruins your mood, festers your mind, and leaves you aimless. Bluey shows that it happens, this is the rare time where a ton of crap hits the fan in one day and it's not something Chili or Bandit or any adult can fix right away. I've never experienced this, but I felt the pain Bluey, Bingo, Frisky, and Chili went through where they're bargaining, burying, and avoiding confronting a potential reality they didn't want. This is where the real hero of the special comes in...

Haven't said before, but Calypso is a masterful teacher

The parable of the farmer works as an incredible seedling thought for Bluey when she reveals her moving. It's not a story I ever heard, but known the message all too well. The message of not just accepting bad things that happen to you, but know that it'll never be the end of the world because of them. Don't think of it as deep, but a natural motif to grow with. This is where a debacle regarding the episode churns with me. It can seem like a cop-out that every character gets what they wanted by the end, as I said before the cartoon can be more idealistic than what our real life allows. Then again, the true beauty of Bluey I believe has always been if it's possible, the family will find a way and do it responsibly.

If happiness can be achieved, they'll know how to get it

Beyond all this, the special is great. They waste no minute here in art and storytelling, and as said before, it's like Smash Bros Ultimate where everything is here. There are great callbacks to episodes you probably wouldn't have thought about, on top of getting to see the whole Heeler family on Chili and Bandit's sides like that blew my mind. Plus I love seeing weddings, dude, like I wish I was there with them. The feels are tsunami-ous like it's unfair to say this is the all-time best episode of the show, but darn if it wouldn't be earned.

When else will I see the epicness of riding shotgun?

But to conclude, it's been said that after this the Ludo crew will take a indefinite hiatus from Bluey the series, especially when they have a new project underway. And honestly? I'm more than satisfied. The show could've ended here and I would've been somewhat at peace with them giving us this beautiful episode. I of course didn't get into this series since its beginning, but I came around the right time to enjoy it myself, to see others recognize its greatness, and to finally make it here. It's great to know this was only another chapter in the book, and I'll see to be around when it gets to come back. As for The Sign? What else is there to say?

It was Beautiful. Cheers to the crew for everything.

#Bluey #bluey cartoon #bluey the sign #the sign #cartoons #reviews #Good Stuff #long post

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quickandsilvers · 13 days

Text

The Spy Who Loved Me

Peter Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Getting stuck in an elevator with a world-renowned Xman wasn’t on your 1984 bingo card. Guess you’ll just have to watch the hours tick by on Peter Maximoff’s ‘aces as fuck’ scooby doo watch. Ruh roh.

Warnings: a few sexual innuendos, awkward Peter (what’s new?), pining and flirting blah blah blah

Word Count: 6604

Taglist: @kaismanwich @evpeters87 @pretzel-bunnie @icannot3 @bluerthanvelvet444

——————————————————————————

Autumn, 1983. 9:32 PM.

As the amber glow of the sun casted its final rays upon the skyscrapers of New York, nightlife was in its full swing. With bustling crowds congregating inside bars and nightclubs, the thunderous bass of pulsating music infiltrated the streets, cranked up to a volume that would cause most to go prematurely deaf. It was both exhilarating and overwhelming.

And yet here you were in one of New York’s many Federal Bureau’s, swamped up in piles upon piles of paperwork, empty coffee cups and inkless biros.

The irony was not lost on you; your version of nightlife was much less enthralling than the lively congregation outside. The vibrant atmosphere was in sharp contrast to the monotony offices of the government building, where the only sounds that accompanied your sleepless nights were the tapping of keyboard keys and the rustle of pages turning as you pored over the endless stream of reports assigned to your person. It involved much more papercuts and sleep-deprived hours of endless jotting down and thinking galore.

Oh, so much thinking. Why couldn’t criminals make your life easier and be a bit dumber, huh?

Your limbs felt leaden with fatigue as you stepped onto the elevator on your floor, clutching papers in your hands tightly. The day had been painstakingly drawn-out, and yet you still had more grueling hours of paperwork waiting to be completed. Shifting awkwardly, you bundle the stack of paper in your hands into one arm, using the other to strain forward and press your floor number. Stepping back with a relieved sigh, you rest against the cool elevator wall for a few moments of much-needed peace.

The lift in your precinct was relatively new, a far cry from the ancient clunkers that polluted much of New York. It was constructed with a considerable amount of precautions and safety features after the Pentagon debacle back in 1973.

News broke out about a group of mutants slipping past security and breaking out the most dangerous mutant extremist known to man: Erik Lensherr. Aka Magneto. Aka totally-terrifying-and-would-definitely-make-you-barf-out-if-you-ever-saw-him-in-person.

Since the television broadcast of that day had instilled copious amounts of fear and paranoia for government safety and security, all federal structures had been fortified beyond necessity.

You’d argue that it was rather pointless though, considering the fact that the main culprit of the offense was now a bigshot, crime-fighting, golden retriever-esque Xman, who spent his days teaching total babes how to play Mrs. Pacman in the arcade. His felon days were over, exclusive of the frequent petty theft misdemeanors you found yourself documenting more times than you could count.

That’s right, you. Of all people, you were assigned the job to file all reported items Peter Maximoff had got his speedy hands on. From road signs to whole arcade machines, you were left documenting his shenanigans night and day, feeling as though you were one binder away from being put in a straight jacket.

You would be lying if you said you expected this task, working for a major federal agency, no less. Petty theft crimes were most often dealt with by the numerous police precincts in the city, however the government decided that the renowned speedster was a different story and needed to be dealt with “efficiently.”

Hah. Efficiently, your ass.

You mourned the times you could’ve simply been doing nothing at home instead of sending out forms for the speedster to sign for his pardoning. After all, it wasn’t like you could take any further action against someone who frequently saved the world from total destruction. The forms were only a mere slap on the wrist to the Xman, and moral condemnation had no effect on someone who had the freedom to act as he saw fit.

But that wasn’t your problem. Atleast, not for the next 48 hours. If you really cracked down, you could knock these forms out in a few hours, having the rest of your weekend dedicated to rotting on your couch, trying to get through as many seinfeld seasons as possible until your dreaded return back to work. A night in with sitcoms and unhealthy, borderline radioactive takeaways was all you needed right now.

You patiently wait for the doors to move, sealing your work week to a close in its mechanical grasp. Just as they begin to whirr shut, a blurred hand sticks through the gap, waving up and down rapidly for the sensors to detect its presence. They begin to open once again, and your eyes laid upon a broken-legged man. He possessed a bizarre pair of crutches adorned in stickers, and not to mention a peculiar taste in fashion. In fact, he practically blended in with the elevator walls, somewhat like a chameleon.

Peter Maximoff. Quicksilver. Hero to all. A royal pain in your ass. You were probably holding several of his reports in your hands right now.

Was he trying to haunt you wherever you go? If so, he’s doing a damn good job at it.

You gawk as he hobbles in, seemingly unaware of your existence as he leans up against the back wall, leaving his crutches standing up beside him. With a motorola dynatac in his hand, Peter’s eyes crinkle in amusement as he grins into his cellphone.

“Look Scotty, pick a side, dude. Yer get mad when i use Charles’ card at kohl’s…yes use.. I don’t fuckin’ leech off of it!..., but yer also get mad when I try cookin’ fer myself fer once!” He waits impatiently for a second, shifting the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he balances back onto his crutches.

Peter sighs after a long pause, “I know I left the stove on, but what can my impaired self do in that situation? What else do yer want me to say?” Peter rolled his eyes, albeit grinning. “..C’mon, It wasn't that bad, it was just a lil’ flare up! Ororo handled the blaze, and it was nothin’ compared to jeans disaster in the danger room.”

Something about the way Peter spoke was so casually amusing. He always seemed unfazed by his life's predicaments - never really taking anything all that seriously. He was unapologetically himself and had this carefree attitude that you envied more than you'd like to admit.

Absent-mindedly sifting through your papers, you contemplate the situation, wondering what Peter could’ve possibly done to anger Cyclops to that extent. He seemed to have read your mind though, as he pfftbs, lolling his head back lazily onto the elevator wall.

“The cabinets aren’t that fucked up! Just because yer lead training sessions now doesn’t mean ya can boss me arou-“

CRASH!

The loud sound resonates around the small space as you jump, a few papers going awol and falling to your feet. You reach down immediately, scrambling to pick them up.

Peter flinched as his ear was pressed into the speaker; as a result, his phone began to slide down from his shoulder. He caught it with the side of his face, wide-eyed and neck craned in a way you can’t imagine is comfortable.

“...What was that?”

“The cabinets.” A gruff, new voice sounded from Peter’s phone, unimpressed and beyond fed up with his bullshit. Peter, throwing his head back, barked out something between a wheeze and a snort, clearly thriving off his buddies’ misery.

Reaching out, you stetch to grasp a rogue file that had fallen by the speedsters feet. Hearing his giggles subside, you look up to see a wide-eyed Peter. He leans against the wall to use a free hand, grabbing his phone as he glances at your position with cheeks dusted pink, perplexed.

Just then, you realise that you are face-level with his crotch. Zoinks.

You both remain in deadly silent prolonged eye contact at the altercation, and you can only assume that your complexion is equivalent to that of a tomato, only further adding to your humiliation. Squeaking a small ‘sorry’, you immediately turn away and stand up, returning to your claimed spot of the elevator with askew papers bundled in your arms. The speedster’s scent followed you as you retreated, almost enticing you closer as the aroma of sweet cinnamon and natural leather seized your senses, lingering around the room.

Peter took advantage of your avoidant gaze to sneak a glance at the hella cute girl he had been totally unaware of. He takes a mega quick glance at his super cool green and blue Scooby Doo watch. A nice pop of colour to his metallic ensemble. The time read 9:47.

Four minutes. Four long, long minutes that he had been ranting like a lunatic down his phone, without the knowledge that an ultra-hot babe was standing next to him, probably confused and now completely put-off by his antics.

Why was she lookin’ at his junk, anyways? Did he forget to zip his fly? His head whips down. Nope. Wait. Was he hard? His head whips down again. Nope. Not yet, atleast.

Huh. Guess some groupees are just hella intense.

Peter’s mind reeled back to a few minutes prior. He didn’t do anythin’ embarrassing, did he? You probably thought he was a mess.

Oh fuck, did he look like a mess?

A blurred hand moves to fix his untamed mane, but only messes it up further as he moves it out of his eyes and in opposing directions. An angered muffle sounds through the speaker and Peter brings it up to his mouth with a stutter.

“I- I gotta go, Wolvie!” He panics, watching your fingers as they attentively sift through your stack of papers. The voice on the other end protests immediately, making explicit threats to the speedster. The sound of creaking hinges and snapping wood made him wince. But hey, there wasn’t much that he could do now, other than get his ass handed to him upon his arrival at the mansion.

Peter cuffs his hand over the phone speaker and makes a muffled sound, feigning losing connection.

“My service must be cuttin’ out dude! Talk time is runnin’ out too!” Peter paused to make more sounds, really selling his story. “Sorry man, nothin’ I can do ‘bout that! Tell Charlie Brown I'm mega sorry and I'm comin’ as quick as a one-legged man can go!” He makes kissy noises down the phone, only further angering the shouting man on the other side.

You definitely thought he was a mess.

Peter hung up abruptly and swallowed, looking towards you with a sheepish grin and gesturing his Motorola towards you. “That guy, huh?” He scoffs awkwardly, somehow stuffing the brick of a phone halfway into his pocket before running a hand through his hair once more.

It’s funny, really. Despite the amount of groupees wanting him to sign every limb on their bodies, Peter never gets any better at this. The talking-to-women thing, that is. Not to toot his own horn or anything, but Peter considers himself a master of scribbling on polyester brassiere. It was always the same thing; the initials ‘QS’ with the tail shaped like a lightning bolt, and a first-class smiley face on the side.

You let out a breathy laugh, about to ask what exactly he had done to assault the communal kitchen in such a way, before you stop yourself. Despite the loud conversation, you weren’t sure if you should bring up a private phone call. Instead, you respond with a curt nod.

Peter liked your laugh. It was a breath of fresh air within the cramped elevator, and certainly sounded better than the obnoxious honks Scott emitted, sounding somewhat like a vehicle. He guessed that Scott’s laugh simply replicated his engineerical profession. If that was true, Peter thinks you must work alongside angels sent from heaven itself. Hell, he’d volunteer to be your magical harp in an instant. Would let you play with him anytime. Hah.

As Peter opened his mouth to speak, an abrupt jolt sent you wobbling back into the wall before he could get a word in. He lets out an involuntary ‘eh?’ in confusion as the phone in his pocket tumbles to the floor, the antenna snapping off. Another lurch of the elevator and it came to a halt, cutting out with an ear-splitting creak.

The elevator had not yet reached a point beyond the metal walls outside, where you could see out the large window panes. Panic surged through you as the confined space seemed to shrink further. The silence in the elevator was deafening, and the uncertainty of the situation only heightened your anxiety. You couldn't muster the courage to look up at the speedster, fearing his reaction to the predicament.

Finally, his voice broke the silence, its calmness providing perhaps a glimmer of reassurance.

“Huh. The elevator stopped.” He hums in a matter-of-factly tone. Okay, maybe not. What do you have on you to salvage? Maybe a scrunched up, expired airhead in the depths of your pockets? Would that get you through the night?

Using a sticker-adorned crutch to reach the panel, Peter abused the call button before pressing the ground floor, both controls ceasing to function.

“Yer gotta be shittin’ me, it's stuck!” He groans, a little more panicked now “Wolvie’s not gonna believe me! Fuck!”

You attempt to swallow your nerves, yet fail as you stare at your feet. Peter, however, seemed more worried about the reaction of his superior than the fact he was trapped in a confined space by heavily reinforced elevator doors. Doors that could keep you locked in here for the foreseeable future. Would that be so bad? You weren’t a die-hard Quicksilver fangirl to say the least, but the man certainly wasn’t half bad to look at. Oh, but you’d kill to be binging seinfeld right now.

Trailing your gaze back up, your eyebrows furrow as you bear witness to said man attempting to pry the elevator doors open. You watch on as Peter anchors his good foot onto the side of the door for leverage, all whilst reciting murmurs of self-motivational idioms. He releases a choked-off groan. You chalk it up to either his effort into opening the door or his injured leg supporting the rest of his body. Either way, the speedsters' attempts were fruitless.

For what seems like an eternity, you open and close your mouth much like a fish out of water, completely baffled at the sight before you. And maybe even more so baffled as you intently ogle the bulge of the speedster’s biceps through his jacket, contracting and straining from his efforts.

Okay, wow. Keep it profesh, dude. Don’t you hate this guy?

You clear your throat, preparing to pose a question. Peter immediately whips his head around to face you, remaining in the same awkward position as he relaxed into a lazy smirk, despite his red cheeks and heaving chest. He tilts his head to the side, kindly signaling you to say something.

“Are you sure it's broken?" You ask softly, your voice perhaps quieter than you expected it to be, "Have you tried the fire alarm or stop button?”

Silence followed for a moment, and you felt yourself tense up.

“ ‘course babe,” Peter answers, relaxing his hand for a second to rest it against the door. “But have no fear. Who needs a stupid fire alarm when you have me?” He graced you with an award-winning grin, jutting out a thumb to eagerly point to himself. You ease up a little, humming as a flash of light reflecting off his watch catches your eye. A grinning Scooby Doo stares back at you and you resist the urge to laugh, comparing the speedster more to Scooby’s miniature counterpart; Scrappy.

Another agonizing minute passes, and you continue to exchange glances as Peter occasionally looks over his shoulder towards you for reassurance. A smile lingered on his lips, it was warm, and you were tempted. Oh, so very tempted. Silence permeated the air as you stood there idly, and you couldn’t help but feel the need to inquire again.

With one final heave and the door moving not an inch, Peter stumbles back into the wall, a sigh of alleviation exiting his mouth as he relieves the pressure on his mending leg. With crimson cheeks he began to shrug off his metallic jacket, letting it drop to the floor next to him.

Peter’s gaze flickers up towards you guiltily, knowing that you were on edge in such a confined space and wanting to get out ASAP. You felt your heartstrings being tugged as he presses himself back into the wall, giving you as much space as possible in the cramped elevator. Somehow, you found that was the last thing you wanted.

Silence ensued again for a few moments too long. You felt a warmth in your face and looked away immediately, finding yourself swayed by a peculiar boyish charm.

You looked up as he blinked, silver eyelashes flickering in the overhead lights. Your heart leapt. Peter Maximoff had the charisma that many girls found hard to resist, and perhaps you were no different from any other groupee than you had thought.

“How long do you think we’ll be in here?” You manage to get out as his stare remains fixated on you.

“Until maintenance decides to do their job, I s’pose,” He responds with a chuckle, resting on the handrail behind him.

“Oh, okay,” You reply shortly, averting your eyes again as you copy his movements on your own handrail.

“I hope i'm not that terrible company, toots.” Peter strives to make a joke. It fell flat on its face however, as you only respond with a half-assed huff of laughter, running your hand through your hair worriedly.

“N-no, it’s not like that,” You assure, feeling slightly red. You see the corner of his eyes crinkle in your peripherals, a visible smile forming on his face.

“I’m sorry, I just feel a little claustrophobic right now,” You explain anxiously, watching the ceiling as if it were about to fall and seal your fate.

Peter’s smile faltered at your mental panic. “Hey, uh- it's okay, it's just a maintenance issue. The elevator’s not gonna fall er anythin’. There's like a.. bajillion failsafes, ya know?” He huffed another laugh, readjusting his crutches under his armpits. Your tension slightly eased as he acknowledged the tense circumstances, but you still couldn't shake off the nerves entirely. The sound of his voice brought an odd comfort, making you feel slightly less alone in this confined space.

“Hank was tellin’ me all about their mechanics on this long-ass drive to the Pentagon. Yer know the-'' You nod in confirmation, very familiar with the building “-yeah. We were there fer.. somethin’ totes legal and business related.” He swallows, grinning. You crack a knowing smile, showing the speedster that you knew exactly what he was talking about.

Peter focuses his attention towards his discarded silver jacket on the floor. Balancing on his crutches, he uses his good leg to splay the jacket out next to the back wall. He looks back up at you almost expectantly, grinning as you raise an eyebrow quizzically.

“D ’ya wanna sit? I don’t want yer hobbling around like me if we’re gonna be here fer a while.” He offers, gesturing his casted leg towards you with a playful scoff.

You accept, thanking him as he placed one of his crutches in the corner, using his free large hand to splay across the small of your back. He hobbled slightly as you shuffle backwards to slide down the wall. Gripping your shoulders for support, he shakily sits down next to you, legs splayed out as he rests his other crutch across his right thigh.

You flush at the newfound closeness, copying his stance as you stretch your legs out. In the process your foot kicks something solid, and you look back to see the motorola on the sleek metal floor, broken beyond repair. You feel almost guilty, despite doing nothing wrong.

“Sorry about your phone.” You say softly, giving the speedster a remorseful smile.

Peter returns with a genuine grin “It’s a-okay babe, don’t worry ‘bout it. I'll get Xavier ter buy me a new one” he waves you off nonchalantly “-a work-issued phone ‘er somethin’.”

“Shouldn't you be spending the professor’s money on something more worthwhile? A new kitchen, perhaps?” You tease, nudging the Xman’s shoulder with your own.

“Hand on heart, babe. Wasn't my fault!” Peter’s hand flies to the very right side of his body, the opposite end of where his vital organ actually was. “I was cookin’ fer the kiddos since they didn’t want ter go through with Hank’s taco tuesday night, bless ‘em, but it turns out i’m pretty inferior too.”

“Is it really that bad?” You ask, surprised “A man with six PhD’s can’t cook?”

Peter shudders, screwing his face up into a look of disgust as he lays a hand on top of your own, squeezing it as though he had undergone something traumatic. “His food is a mix of something bad and something.. even worse, babe. Hank’s too experimentative, ‘n that shit should stay in the lab. The man added eggplants to our enchiladas. Eggplants. How crazy is that?!”

You snort, throwing your head back in comfortable laughter as he giggled with you. “I mean, i’m a man that’ll eat anythin’ yer put in front of me. But that pairin’? C’mon!”

Snickering further, the thought of impending doom eased gradually out of your mind as you found yourself relaxing. Peter’s fingers drum against the back of your hand, instilling a calming flow as you focus on the rhythmic taps.

He clears his throat. “So uh- yer work here?” The speedster gestures to the ID hanging off your neck, your photo and FBI logo showing.

“Just your average desk jockey at the moment, but I'm training to be an espionage agent.” You nod after a brief pause “...hopefully.”

Peter caught your eye with a confused blink, tilting his head with a puzzled smile. You catch onto his perplexity, dumbing the definition down to much simpler terms. “A spy.”

He blinked again, this time in realisation. “That’s totally rad! Yer don’t look like one, though, so I was pretty confused. Thought yer were talkin’ ‘bout that snail food...”

“That’s escargot, Mr. Maximoff.” You snicker “And I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but we ‘spies’ aren't all wearing stilettos and gun holsters on our person.”

Peter grinned as his hand left yours to ruffle his hair, something you found him doing often. “Suit yerself. But if I was the bad guy and yer were in that getup, I’d let ya capture me in an instant.” The words rolled off his tongue so smoothly that you found yourself falling further into the figurative arms of his speedy grasp. “ ‘n scrap the ‘Mr. Maximoff’, babe. ‘M just Peter.”

A bright blush crept upon your face once more. You waved the speedster off dismissively, not used to having comments like that directed towards you, let alone by a man who belonged on the front cover of a People’s Sexiest Man Alive magazine.

“So, Peter,” You test out his name, enjoying the way it sounded as it left your mouth. He grinned dopily, liking it too. “Why are you here?”

Peter looks around to check the coast is clear before coercing you closer with two fingers, making a quick ‘c’mere’ motion. You oblige, his lips now inches from your ear and soft silvery hair brushing against your temple. “I could tell ya, but then I'd have to kill ya.” The soft whisper sent currents down your spine, and the speedster didn’t miss your shiver as he pulled back, winking.

Peter seemed to have sensed your flustered state, swiftly moving onto another topic. “Like actually though, yer an undercover spy. That’s sick!” Peter hyped you up.

You shrug dismissively “I-it’s not exactly like the films. I’m more of an investigator than what you’re thinking.. and I’m not out on the field much, if at all.”

“Damn, yer still gotta be a total whizz though, right? Ter work for a federal agency?” Peter questioned with a genuine intrigue in your profession, a dopey grin adorned on his lips.

You brush it off once more with a simple shrug and a giddy smile, albeit with a newfound warmth and pride in your heart at his interest. A pause prolongs throughout the cramped room as you lean your head back onto the wall, staring at the uncomfortable bright lights until your retinas are screaming for you to avert your gaze.

Peter put his hands behind his head, staring at his feet in thought. He cocked his head as he saw that his silver shoelaces had unraveled. Maybe he should've asked you to tie them whilst you were down there earlier, nuzzling and befriending his junk. He grinned, savoring the memory in his mind and preserving it in a metaphorical polythene sleeve, just like his beloved original mint-condition records at home.

Woah! Slow down there, Don Juan! This chick barely knows you!

A comfortable silence lingered in the air for a few moments more, before Peter gently nudged you with his shoulder, looking over at you whilst his head stood resting against the elevator wall.

“I could be yer Tiffany Case.”

You furrow your brows. What?

“Yunno, Diamonds are forever, ‘56? Sean Connery, Jill St. John? I could totally be yer main bond girl!” Peter reiterated, gesturing his hands in his hair like the bouffant style the woman was infamous for wearing.

You snort a true laugh at the thought, turning your head to face him. He was already looking at you, grinning at your reaction to his buffoonery.

“Shouldn’t it be the other way round?” You query. Peter shakes his head adamantly. “Nuh uh, Ms. Double agent. Besides, I'd totally rock it in a showy little corset dress, don’t cha think? The choker an’ all?” He quipped, seeming happily expectant for your answer.

You snort further and he gasped at you in mock offense, nudging you slightly with a half-hearted ‘hey!’, to which you shrug and state that you would be rather under-qualified for the job. Jumping out of moving cars and escaping the clutches of hungry alligators weren’t exactly your areas of expertise.

“Yer think? Ya more of a Velma, huh? It’s a-okay, ‘m flexible. I could be yer shaggy too, y’know?” Peter nudged you again, each contact of clothed skin sending bolts of electricity down your arm. You sensed that he was hinting at something, although very subtly, as he couldn’t flee if you shot him down. Like you ever would, that is.

“Oh please, you’d be scooby.. no, scrappy! The watch says it all.” You gesture. Peter raises his eyebrows, a flicker of astonishment in his eyes, surprised that you took the time to notice that little detail. Your remark wasn’t even a compliment, in fact it was meant to be taken as slander, but he paused for a moment as his heart thumped faster than usual, a little dazed.

The overhead elevator bulb flickered as Peter gazed at your face. He swore then he could see you in an entirely new light, in a way that had his hands going clammy and stomach leaping in a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Peter watched, transfixed as your tongue glided across your lower lip, moisturizing them as your hands fiddled with the ID badge hanging around your neck. He wanted to hear you speak again.

“I’m callin’ bullshit, babe. In every spy movie the powerful female lead always carries her gun in a thigh holster. That’s just how it goes!” He shrugs “I mean, the only exception was this chick I met in ‘83. But I didn’t check if she had one, scout’s honour! She’s Charles’ girl.”

He carelessly flung three fingers in the air, knocking off the goggles that were once cushioned on his head in the process. He guessed they were slung somewhere across the elevator as your eyes trailed their path, but Peter paid them no mind. He cleared his throat awkwardly to grasp your attention.

You pfft, “Maybe you need to lay off the 007 films for now, no one wears anything like that.”

Peter squints his eyes, as if checking your own for signs of lying. “Whaddaya say yer let me check sometime? Ya sure yer got no secret compartments anywhere? Can't be too safe as an Xman, huh?”

“I Wouldn't be a very good bond if I was conspiring against my main girl, would I?” You tease, matching his expression. You gesture to his t-shirt, “And I’d never harm an Earth, Wind and Fire supporter.”

Peter’s eyes lit up as he sat further upright now, grasping your hand tightly. “Yer like Earth, Wind and Fire?!” You grin at his giddiness, “Hell yeah! I saw them back in ‘79.”

He squeezed your hand in his, sighing contently as he ruffled his hair with the other. “I like ya taste, and yer currently holding the hand of an incredibly handsome and painfully humble man, so yer taste in this department ain't half bad either, babe.” He shot you a grin.

You hit him slightly in the chest at his unbridled cockiness, but still not wanting to let go of his hand, and neither did he. His grip stayed intertwined with yours in a stalemate, both of you unwilling to relinquish. His gaze was just as unwilling, staring you down much like a fox.

All Peter wanted to do was make you smile again. To see you laugh again. It hurled him into the midst of a typhoon, with a zero percent chance of survival. He was right in the epicenter, the eye of the storm.

In true Scorpions fashion? You were rockin’ his emotions around like a hurricane, sending him into a love-struck frenzy. I mean, come on! It’s the 21st night of September, cupid! Little early sending those arrows, ain’t it bud?

In his daze, Peter barely registered the sudden clunk of the elevator. Not until you yelped and sunk your nails into the skin of his hand did he register the movement of the steel floor, and he gripped onto you even tighter. Tight enough that it surely hurt, but you didn’t protest as you shifted yourself onto your knees, using the handrail above to lift yourself up. With the aid of your hands, Peter eased out of his seated position, careful to not put any unnecessary pressure on his leg.

The lights on the buttons flicker on as you watch gleefully, the floor number beginning to move from seven to five, getting closer to your stop at the third floor. Your claustrophobic nightmare had come to an abrupt halt. Peter felt a strange sinking feeling in his stomach, though. As glad as he was to get back to the mansion, he wanted to stay with you. To get to know you.

He needed to see you again.

With a silent curse, Peter cleared his throat, “Hey, uh, babe?” You turn around expectantly. No backing out now, casanova. “Feel free ter totally hurl me down this elevator shaft or whip out your concealed gun if I'm wrong but- and yer never know when ya might need an elevator buddy again… so…” Nervousness clearly oozed from every fibre of his being, shown by his clammy hands and averted gaze, every unanswered second feeling like an hour.

Your clear confusion sent him into a malfunctioning frenzy. He just wanted this over with, yet he couldn’t find the words.

“Ijustwantedtoknowificouldpossiblyyyyyyygetyournumbermaybeandwecouldgooutttonadatee?” A jumbled string of words flies out of his mouth like word vomit. That wasn’t very Peter Franks of him.

His question completely flew over your head, and Peter mistook your taken-aback stature as rejection and his heart plummeted into a sad, mushy mess. As a wise Roos Tarpals once said: ‘Yousa in big doo-doo dis time.’

Peter immediately back-tracked himself, trying to ease the gauche tension that was gradually becoming more prominent. “Whaaaat?! Whosa spaked dat?!” Yeah, that oughta do it. Nice one, jar jar binks.

“Woah! Slow down, Motormouth! Not everyone is a Gungan. Tell me again.” You exclaimed, bewildered. The silence was permeable as you were waiting expectantly. His mouth went dry. Ooh mooie mooie, was it too quick to say that he might be in love with you? You understood his references. You were perfect, and now the pressure to not mess up was inordinate.

Peter hadn't felt this anxious before. Not when he fought Apocalypse on his own. Not when his матушка had walked in on him watching something totally not PG13. Not even when he asked Crystal Amaquelin out in 8th grade, via note, only for her to laugh and share the heartfelt message around with her rather intimidating gaggle of giggling friends.

The entire school knew about it in less than an hour, even Peter’s Civics teacher, Mr. Rivera, of whom then placed the younger speedster next to his unrequited crush for the remainder of the year. Gee, doesn’t he owe him for that one.

Peter had grown since then. He had completely put it past him soon after he had once removed all traces of putty from the windows in Mr. Rivera’s classroom, only for every pane to fall one by one as his favourite teacher slammed the door behind him. It was golden, and Crystal laughed too. Psscht, not like Peter cared anyway…

Was the yelling and exclusion worth it? Absolutely. Peter still felt a little bad about the fine mama Maximoff was given, though.

But truly, he had grown. A real glow up, infact. He bet that Crystal Amaquelin would now jump at the chance to go out with him, with the soft silver hair all his groupees fawned over and those fuckass reading glasses he had now gleefully parted from. And not to mention the severe hayfever that had plagued his summers as a child, where he would spend his days walking down the school corridor with his red, watery eyes and running nose.

Awh hell, why was he torturing himself with the thoughts of his younger, dorkier past? You were in front of him, waiting, absentmindedly chewing the inside of your cheek. Or perhaps it was a nervous tic? Either way, he’s got a good chance of blowing this with you. Slim to none odds of coming out of this with an in-tact ego.

Peter repeats his words. Atleast, he thinks he does. It was like the muscles in his jaw seemed to be doing all the talking involuntarily. Pfft. Even his body was sick of him. So why was he trying his dregs of luck with you? It seemed like you have a good life ahead of you, without the speedster whizzing past and leaving a whirlwind of destruction in his wake.

Whatever he said, Peter hopes it was coherent this time. And by judging the look in your face… well.. actually, no. He has no idea what's going on in that pretty little head of yours, and to put it frankly, it’s killing him. Cause of death? Interaction with a female. Peter would’ve been sure of his untimely demise if it weren’t for the pounding sound of blood pumping through his head.

Mere seconds go by. To Peter, it’s hours. He needs to check you’re still functioning. Embarrassed, the speedster rubs the back of his head, awkwardly grinning at you. A few silent moments to many, he finally breaks the tension by maturely asking:

“You aiiight?”

Upon hearing no response from you and seeing your flushed cheeks, his grin grew even wider as he snickered.“Whew- So, I guess that means I’m still good lookin’ enough ter make the ladies blush, huh?"

Peter’s deflecting. He knows it, and so do you. The sense of rejection is crashing down on him like an array of polished oak cabinets. And he’s just about to conjure all the strength he had left to pry open those pesky mechanical doors open when-

“You got a pen?” At long last, a response. Granted, it wasn’t exactly the yes or no Peter was expecting, but a response nonetheless.

Patiently, you watch as Peter scrambles for the blue felt tip marker in his trouser pocket, the one he used to colour in the dope skateboard one of the kiddos drew on his cast. He sighed in relief as he found it, thrusting it towards you with an award-winning, yet uneasy smile.

You thank him as you flick the lid off, scrawling your number in the corner of one of your documents. It was hard to remember your digits as Peter’s gaze burned into you, along with the sound of his shallow breathing. Amidst the tension, you couldn’t help but detect a tingling, giddy feeling in your stomach, transporting you back to your days as a teenager. Mustering a shy grin, you hand both the marker and paper back to him. Peter took it like it was priceless, immediately memorizing your number in his head in fear that it would somehow disappear off the page.

Peter knew that his dreamlike half-hour had come to an end when the elevator pinged at the third floor, gliding open effortlessly as if those very same doors weren’t sending Peter into an early retirement from trying to force them open. You hum cordially as you break away from the claustrophobic room, stepping into the monotony office that you’ve never been so elated to see again. You turn around, watching the speedster press the ground floor number with the end of his crutch. “Not your stop?”

Peter grimaces, sighing exuberantly “Nah, still got another couple floors with the mystery machine.” He pats the wall as if it were an old friend. It reverberates with a loud echo, making him wince. Just then, the doors begin to shut before you interfere, wedging your foot in between them so they detect your presence. They open back up again.

“You’ll call me, won’t you? If you have time?”

“Fer you? Anything. That’s a promise.” Oh boy, Peter’s turning into a lovefool already.

You grin “Don’t go breaking any more cabinets, Shaggy.” Your foot slides away from the elevator.

“Who, lil’ ol’ me?” Peter gasps in mock offense “Like, sorry Velms, but that's a promise I can't keep, man.” You giggle and he grins triumphantly, watching as the doors begin to close and you wave goodbye, hollering one last thing to the speedster.

“I hope mystery incorporated doesn’t give you much trouble!” Clunk.

Once again, Peter is left alone with his thoughts, accompanied only by the sounds of the conveyance machinery whirring down to the ground floor. He uses this time to fumble for his walkman on his belt, trapping his hair underneath his over-ear headphones. With a click he presses the play button, just in time as the elevator doors ping open once more.

Readjusting his grip on his crutches, Peter hobbles out of the building, the sounds of Aerosmith’s ‘Love In An Elevator’ blaring at full volume. He glances down with a smirk at the piece of paper you gave to him, documented with his name and recent items he had swiped from a local record store; and jackpot! Your number, clear as day, scrawled onto it. Finally.

Peter knew his plan would work someday. He sorta had a knack for this spy thing. In truth, stopping that elevator was the best thing he’d done in a long while.

Shame about his phone though, that was the only thing that happened on accident. Ruh roh.

#the end was supposed to suggest that Peter has been pining after the reader for a while but it turned out kinda stalkerish #whoops #anywho i hope you guys like #peter maximoff #evan peters #quicksilver #xmen #peter maximoff x reader #evan peters masterlist #peter maximoff fluff #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff smut #evan peters x reader

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sourpatchys · 5 months

Text

Title: Thorns’n Roses

Rating: NSFW❤️‍🔥 minors DNI

Warning: premature ejaculation

Time: after overhaul, before Deika City

Word count: 4.5k

Summary: The beating of two hearts can finally become one. The realization of feelings, and the fear of separation. •FEMALE READER•

The warehouse was cold, its broken down walls and caved in floors left much to be desired in the thought of comfort. Though, as being in the league has taught you– it could always be worse.

Even with the cracked windows, boarded up doorways and splinter infested surfaces, this was a far cry from the worst place you’d had to call home within these past few months. At the very least this place had a few broken down mattresses that had been left by fellow squatters over the years– a good change of pace from sleeping on leaves and concrete.

Though, through it all– you couldn’t think of a place you’d rather be. The dripping water and old creaks left you feeling calm, the cold air soothed your hot skin– this was the life you’d chosen, and it was a beautiful reality. Someday, maybe the world would allow you to be like the others, to perhaps build a life worth slowing down for, but that dream was far away– just beyond your reach.

The league mostly stayed separate, going alone or in pairs to the next location to help cease wandering eyes from staring too long. Fugitives couldn’t risk being recognized, as a whole it was safer to go alone, meeting up with Shigaraki once every few days to decide our next move.

As luck would have it, you were with Shigaraki this week. Kurogiri liked to say it was for the sake of the leader's protection– but you knew otherwise. The truth was, Tomura Shigaraki was the league's protection, a safety blanket for the unknown. He always had the answers, he always had a plan– and when he didn't we knew it simply wasn’t time to act. Truth be told, he was the reason you stayed.

Being a villain wasn't on your bingo card, it wasn’t something you ever thought you would have chosen for yourself– being on the run wasn’t something that was new for you though, and that's how he’d found you– crying in an alleyway after losing control, afraid of what you were capable of.

He made you realize there was no reason to be afraid– that fighting back was a part of life. Those exact words had never left his lips, in fact he rarely spoke to you at all, his mere presence and demeanor were enough to make you understand the lessons you were taught.

Shigaraki was never afraid to do what he wanted– needed to do. So you decided you wouldn’t be either.

He was sitting on an old shipping box, staring into space– his eyes weren’t focused, it seemed as if he was letting himself rest after weeks of fighting. Something in you wanted to believe that you had given him his relaxation– that you had somehow saved him from his anxieties just by being there.

Finally, he turned to you, his eyes harsh, yet somehow forgiving all the same. They were red like rubys, like two crystal clear seas of blood– or perhaps like a rose, covered in thorns, ready for its next victim.

It was as if you were possessed, like the words left your mouth without even processing through your own skull– “Your eyes are really pretty.”

He looked just as shocked as you felt, his brows raising and then falling, showing you more of his beautiful red.

“What?”

His voice was shaken, a tone in which you had never heard from him– it wasn’t anger, it wasn’t fury– he was confused, upset even. Maybe you needed to say it again? Surly he just hadn’t heard you right the first time.

“I said your eyes– they’re pretty.”

This didn't seem to cure his new demeanor. He was supposed to have all the answers– but at this moment, it was as if he’d never had a correct answer in his life. He didn't know what to say, where to look, or how to continue. Yet something in him yearned to keep this going, he wanted to hear you again, the sincerity in your voice had him crumbling in a way he never knew possible.

“Yours are too.”

He’d never given another person a compliment, he wasn’t sure if he had even done it right. If not for the slight flush on your face, he may never have gotten the answer. His body felt hot, his hands were sweating and he swore his heart was beating twice as fast. It was similar to anger in a way– though he didn't wish for this feeling to stop, he didn't crave the crash of emotions he got after killing, or the need to scratch. It was a strange sensation, and he was sure you were trying to kill him– but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

You were just the same, three seconds away from a heart attack. You were sure you'd heard him wrong, but the softness in his rose like eyes told you otherwise, and suddenly you were melting in the palm of his hands. It felt as though he had all five of his fingers wrapped against your throat, and you craved more of the delicious feeling. You were pudding, but you felt brave, braver than you ever had in your 20 years of life.

“They remind me of a newly blossomed rose after a storm, so beautiful and yet so dangerous you can’t help but want to pluck it for yourself.”

A thoughtful look crossed his face as he stared at you, as if he were digesting your words bit by bit, savoring the flavor on his tongue.

“Beautiful, huh?”

“Yes, I think so.”

It was then he stood, walking his way towards you before sitting down across from you on the cold damp floor. He seemed to be examining you, looking for something he couldn’t quite place.

“Are you trying to get under my skin? It wont work.” he lied– as far as he was concerned you were nestled right into the muscle.

You swallowed, this was as close as you'd ever had the pleasure of being to one another, you didn’t want to push him away.

“No Shigaraki, I'm just being honest.”

He glared at you, his eyes showing distrust, though a pale blush started to form across his neck. A part of you wondered if his ears got red when he was embarrassed– you desperately wanted to find out.

“So you honestly think I'm ‘beautiful’.”

The word was spit out of his mouth with such disgust, you almost didn't recognize it– as if it were completely foreign to your vocabulary. Though his utter repulsion for the word did not make your statement any less true, in fact it only made you want to drill it harder, to see him accept your thoughts on the matter no matter the cost.

“Yes–” you reached out your hand, touching your soft subtle flesh across his scarred rough skin, looking into his soul– “I think you're beautiful.”

Shigaraki didn’t know how to react, he didn't know how to do anything. It was as if he had lost complete connection to his body, only able to stare, basking in the warmth you've given him. His body is frigid, long since forgetting the feeling of a gentle touch– he thought he may become addicted to the feeling now that it was in his grasp once more.

Noticing his reluctance, you moved to sit on your knees– slowly, so as to not startle him further– you placed your other hand on the other side of his warming face. It felt as though you had the world in your hands, and you found yourself loving the feeling it gave you.

Was that what this was? Affection?

The thought of closing the gap between your bodies made you shiver with excitement, and then– and only then– could you handle the truth.

You were in love with Tomura Shigaraki.

The man in question was in confused bliss, he never knew the touch of another could feel so– innocent– so subtle. He wanted more, he wanted every part of you– anything you'd let him have, he decided he would take.

“Shigaraki?” you whispered, refusing to speak any louder, afraid of losing the bubble you had so carefully crafted together.

He hummed at you, his eyes tracing every corner of your face– making sure to confine it to his memories. This moment was one he refused to forget.

“Can I try something?”

As if he knew what your simple request was, he stared down to your lips– flicking his unfocused gaze between them and your eyes– silently giving you permission to continue, letting you take the lead.

As your soft lips grazed his own, he found that he never wanted to feel anything else. He couldn’t close his eyes, much too enthralled by the soft look on your face, a look of content in which he never assumed he would be on the other end of.

He realized that maybe– he didn’t hate everything. No– he could never hate you, nor the feelings you were giving him.

The kiss was short and sweet, only lasting a few seconds before you were pulling away, looking for his reaction, nervous about what you might find. You didn't have much time to look however, as soon he was wrapping his arm around your head, sure not to touch you with his deadly fingers, drawing you to his mouth once more.

This kiss was not soft, though it was enthralling just the same. Your mouths moved in sync, quickly finding a rhythm only the two of you would ever be able to share. It was filthy, sloppy, untamed– but it was perfect all the same.

Tomura’s rough lips slid against your own, you couldn’t think of any kiss you'd ever shared feeling as wonderful as this– you felt as though your world was finally spinning again, as though the last piece to your puzzle had been clicked into place.

You made him feel alive. Like nothing in this world could hurt him any longer.

Breaking the kiss was one of the hardest tasks either of you had ever faced up to that point. The need to stay connected, to feel the others skin across their own– it was a pull unlike any other. Shigaraki looked at you with a gaze you had never seen before, one of contentment. You had done it– you'd relaxed his entire being all on your own. You brought that side of him out– you and you alone.

The look of your face, glossed over eyes and puffy lips, stirred something in Shigaraki, he never wanted anyone to see you the way that he was seeing you, he wanted this for him and him alone.

The tension was thick, yet bubbly all the same, each of you wanted the same thing– each other. And yet the words had escaped both of your throats, unable to be spoken freely.

You leaned in, resting your head in the crook of his neck, your breath was still coming in waves, seemingly unable to recover. He let you, wrapping his arms around you in a protective stance. Even without the words being spoken, the fate was sealed– you belonged to Tomura Shigaraki.

Moments that felt like hours passed without a word, the dripping of the building and the harsh wind outside being the only noise keeping the two of you centered.

Shigarakis throat bobbed as he cleared his throat, the warmth under his skin reaching your cheek in record time.

“I think you are too.”

It took you a moment to understand his words– sitting up and looking at his flushed face, you couldn't help but allow a soft smile to spread across your face. He looked away from you, overcome with the need to hold you once more. It was overwhelming, all of this at once, he wasn't sure what he'd do if you looked at him with those same eyes every time he got to see you.

Suddenly it hit him– after this week, there was no telling where you'd be stationed. You couldn’t stay with him long term, the risk of being found was too great– fanning out and changing location was the only way to stay out of the light– to be hidden in the shadows in a world full of light.

He found his heart aching at the thought– he had only just realized his affections, he had only just felt your soft tender skin on his own, he couldn’t bear being away from you– he was selfish, it had gotten him into trouble many times– and yet now he had to think of your safety as well.

Surly you'd be safest with him, not alone, not with one of the other members– with him.

As the days began to pass, each more attentive than the last, he couldn’t help but continue to worry. He needed everything to be in place, he needed you to stay with him, to be with him always.

He began treasuring your mornings together, watching you open your sleep-ridden eyes, hearing you mumble nonsense while you were dreaming– the feel of your lips on his skin, the touch of your hands, the feeling of your warmth as you hugged him tight.

One day you had woken before him, and he had the pleasure of waking to the sound of your beautiful voice humming sweet nothings as you traced abstract patterns over his back.

The two of you had created something wonderful, a domestic piece of bliss in their otherwise gruesome line of work. You grounded him in a way he never thought was possible, you made him feel whole. While with you– he knew no hate– he knew not anger. All he knew was your warmth, your laugh, your smile.

Oh how he wanted to keep it forever, tucked away in his pocket to carry with him always.

It was as if you were a porcelain doll, and he was doing everything in his power to keep you from breaking. He had never known seeing another person happy to be alive could be so invigorating.

This morning was unlike the others, as it was possibly the last morning you'd get to spend together until a better arrangement could be made– the thought of you leaving his arms even for a moment made him sick to his stomach. He was hoping, with everything in him, that the power that Kurogiri had promised him would come soon, he needed to be the king, with you his queen.

He fell hard and he fell fast, as did you. The bond you shared was unlike any other– you needed one another– you craved one another.

He felt your body begin to twitch as you began to wake, your tender loving hands gripped onto his shirt, and your face scrunched pushing its way into his dark clothing– trying subconsciously to block the sun, annoyed by its rays.

He found it to be quite amusing.

“The sun is here to stay.” he found himself saying, enjoying the way you groaned in frustration towards his words.

“Kill it.”

That got a genuine laugh out of him– his own personal ball of sunshine being such a grumpy riser, it was nothing if not poetic.

He leaned down to kiss your forehead, an action that had become more than natural by this point, he always had his grubby little hands on you one way or another.

You hummed softly at his attempts to wake you– your eyes opening softly, ready to greet the day albeit reluctantly. You weren't happy about leaving either, it had been on your mind since the moment you shared your first kiss together. The fear of leaving the man in which you held so dear. But perhaps the distance would make your connection grow stronger– perhaps the world wasn't ready for the two of you to forever join together quite just yet.

You could feel yourself frowning at the thought, clutching harder onto the fabric between your fingers.

Shigaraki didn't say anything, letting you feel whatever you needed too, though he didn't enjoy your frustrations, he couldn’t solve them– not yet– not without power.

He felt as your warm tired– angry– hand made its way under his worn down shirt, slinking its way up his torso. His breath hitched at the feeling, though he stayed still, letting you do as you pleased. What kind of king would he be if he told his queen no?

Your hand continued to make its way over his pale harsh skin, his muscles tightening under your soft skin, unused to the feeling, yet craving more– he wanted you, he wanted to eat you whole and leave nothing left– to claim your flesh as his own, so that no matter where you wound up, his touch would stay with you forever.

You wanted just the same.

“Tomura?”

His name fell from your lips like lace, he was sure he’d never heard such a beautiful sound. He gulped, afraid of breaking the trance you were in, wanting nothing more than to stay in the moment you had created.

“Yeah?”

“Can I do something?”

The vibrations that shook his core were nothing if not violent. Your voice was as sweet as velvet, your mock innocence made him want to beg, to plead for you to do whatever you wanted, so long as it involved him and no one else. You were beautiful, looking up into his rose colored eyes through your eyelashes, waiting patiently for his answer– for his permission.

Who was he to refuse you?

“Of course.”

That's all it took for your soft, gentle hand to become harsh and demanding, running its way up his torso as if it belonged to you. You sat up, taking no time at all to put both of your precious hands on his frame, sliding away at his overworn shirt, pushing it above his head.

His breathing had all but stopped, giving you utter control over what you were going to do to him next– after all, he had given you his explicit permission to do as you pleased– he wasn't the kind of man to go back on his word.

You traced patterns along his rib cage, sliding your thumbs against his scars, paying special attention to the old healed over bullet wounds from his first endeavor as a full fledged villain. He never paid much mind to his scars, he felt natural about them– they were simply the results of his labor, something that was to be expected if he were to fight for destruction. Though, with your gentle caresses, he found himself awed by them, wishing he had more to show, just for your eyes to see.

It was only when you dipped your head and licked a ling stripe up his stomach that he truly realized what your intentions were– it scared him, it enthralled him– he wanted more.

As your fingers made their way to the hem of his pantline, he propped his body up on his arms, not willing to look away from you for a single second as you popped open his button and rolled down his zipper.

His body was electric, zapping and zipping from his toes up to his head. He could feel himself growing erect, the thought alone of you wishing to touch him had him groaning. The sight before him was one he would never forget, your lovely eyes widening as you released his cock from its confines.

Before touching him, you had to ask a question that had been eating away at you– a question you hoped you already knew the answer to.

You looked up into his glossed over eyes, his mouth slightly agape as he took you in.

“Have you ever done this before Tomura?”

There it was again, the sound of his name falling from your perfect lips, it sent a shockwave down his core, his cock twitching in excitement for what was to come– but you had asked him a question– a question he needed to answer before you would continue your mission.

“No– you're the only one.”

It was true, as of today you had been his first everything, his first kiss, his first crush, love, want. You alone held this unstoppable power over his being. It didn't frighten him nearly as much as it should have.

A smile rose to your face, it was a true smile, a toothy grin that had his heart pounding. How? How in the midst of seducing him– did you manage to make his heart melt?

You went to continue, dropping your hand down to grasp his throbbing member in your hands, he hissed at the new sensation– he’d never expected just a small gesture to unwind him so fully. He knew, if you continued on with your plans he would be gone before long, unable to keep up with your alluring ways– completely undone by your soft warm hands.

“Wait!” he growled, placing his hand over your own, sure to lift his pinkie even as his cogs were unwinding. He wanted to become one with you, he wanted to claim you– to take the reins, to pleasure you thoroughly.

Surprised, you did as told– stopping completely in your tracks, ready to hear your orders.

“I– I won't be able to last like this, I want you. I want you in full.”

His tone was dangerous, like a hunter to its prey– it sent a shock of warmth down to your own heat, a sensation that's never happened with words alone.

He took you and flipped your positions, your body landing on the old squeaky mattress with a puff, immediately spreading your legs, unable to contain yourself after seeing the look in those rose red eyes.

Shigaraki climbed over you, his cock hanging between your bodies, glistening with precum already– unable to control itself at the sight of you submitting to him so easily. He needed you, he needed your wet head to surround him– that's the only way he could die happy– he was sure of it.

“Take them off.”

He tugged two of his fingers against your clothes, unwilling to risk the thought of destroying such beautiful garments that hugged your frame so wonderfully.

The edge and shake to his voice had you trembling in anticipation, ready to bend to his every whim. Slowly you began to pull off your clothing piece by piece, all the while he couldn't look away. Your breasts gleamed with the sun's opposing rays, your nipples erect from the cold air around you– it was a sight to behold– a sight just for him. He was sure then– that if there had been anyone else before him– hed make you forget every single one of them– he’d tear them apart limb from limb. No living being other than him was allowed to see what lay underneath.

As you removed your underwear, he swore he was salivating, your wonderfully crafted thighs shaking, your glistening folds out in the open for his viewing pleasure. He couldn't stop himself from running his finger up and down your damp slit, basking in the realization that he made you that way.

You gasped at his touch, arching your back in a silent beg for more.

“You like when I touch you?” he chuckled, rounding your clit with his calloused thumb- you borderline screamed at the feeling, nodding your head frantically. He continued with his assault, his middle finger making its way to your dripping entrance, teasing the area as he basked in the sound of your cries.

“Please, Tomura– please touch me!”

It was a pitiful wine, and if you weren’t in such an out of bodied state you may have even been embarrassed, though for the moment you were just thankful, because you could feel his finger pressing its way into your folds, wiggling itself around until tit found the perfect spot– the spot that had you seeing stars in the middle of the day.

His hand was fast, fucking you with purpuse, making sure to hit the spot that had you squealing over and over again, unwilling to let up.

“Say it again– say my name again.” he was right by your ear, kissing up and down your throat, using his teeth to bite and suck on any spot he found worthy of his affection.

“Tomura!” you cried, fucking yourself down on his hand as he added another finger.

“Again!” he growled, biting into your throat, making sure to leave the impression of his teeth behind, unwilling to stop until he suited you properly marked as his.

“TOMURA!” you screamed as a flood of pleasure erupted into your body popping just as soon as it arrived– your body jerking as tears ran down your face, unable to hold in the pleasure he was giving you.

Slowly his fingers stopped their brutal pace, popping out one by one as his thumb gave your clit a few extra lazy circles that had you sobbing from overstimulation.

He almost came right there, memorized by your body begging for his attention and then snapping in two once it became too much.

Your breath was hollow, shaking, and unstable– but you weren't done yet, you had only just begun.

Using all the strength you had left you wrapped your legs around Shigaraki, pulling him as close to yourself as possible.

He yelped in surprise, his head falling into the throat that he had thoroughly loved.

“What–”

“Fuck me Tomura.”

He groaned, his cock twitching at your demand, but oh so ready to grant your wish.

Slowly, he lined himself up with your sopping wet heat, he took a deep breath, preparing his body for what is sure to be something completely and utterly overwhelming.

Pushing into you, you both groaned, the feeling of being full and the feeling of being sucked in taking you both in an instant.

Shigarakis' breaths were few and far between, and he wasn't moving.

“Tomura?” you questioned, turning your head to look at his face.

“I'm going to cum if I move.” he whispered, embarrassment fully taking over any power he thought he had.

“Do it then!” you laughed, using your legs to force him to move just a bit.

He thrust back, whimpering before his body jerked and he fell on top of you.

“Wow, you weren't kidding.” you joked, giggling at the circumstance, feeling on top of the world for having the world's most dangerous villain fall apart right before your eyes.

“Shut up.”

—

As the day came to a close, you found yourself rushing towards Kurogiris last known whereabouts.

You didn't have to leave Shigaraki afterall.

#tomura x y/n #tomura shigiraki x reader #tomura x reader #tomura shiragaki #shigaraki x you #shigaraki headcanons #shigaraki imagine #mha shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #bnha shigaraki #my hero academia shigaraki #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #fanfic #fanfiction

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yeehawpim · 9 months

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modern!au with the gang. I love thinking of them on an oversized bike, they have real three kids in a trenchcoat energy

@worldsbeyondbingo

#worlds beyond number #wwwo #wwwo fanart #ame #suvi #eursulon #children's adventure #worlds beyond bingo #my art #wbn fanart

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searchingforserendipity25 · 2 months

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An old draft resurrected for @feanorianweek! Inspired by last year's Back to Middle Earth bingo board option - gift giving. Some humor and some angst. In which Maedhros is a defiant prisoner, but not the most infuriating of his siblings.

Gift-Giving

In Valinor, there had been certain expectations from musicians - the minstrels, those few that devoted themselves fully to the Song.

Every noble house ought to have one among their members, and the noblest the best; Maglor had been very obliging in that regard. Maglor had been the example to follow, the prototype, the trend-setter.

Maglor, Maedhros had thought even then, had chosen the Song as much as it had chosen him. For its own sake; and also so that he did not have to choose anything else less great and mighty.

Minstrels were for rites, time-keeping, celebration and beauty. Minstrels were for the blessing of the fields. Minstrels were an honour to their kin, and an adornment.

Beleriand changed things. In Beleriand, Song was power, and Songs of Power needful weapons used beyond the value of their beauty alone.

Unfortunately, kingship was also power, and not one that could lightly be set aside. Fortunately, Macalaurë had always been very able at managing a number of tasks, as long as he could accomplish them in the most impressive and aggravating performance possible.

For thirty years he ruled singly, second-born of a great house in exile, making Siege against one of the Powers, he that first Sang discord into the very matter and memory and making of the world.

Morgoth was besieged. Maitimo might be prisoner, hostage, slave and victim, but there was some satisfaction in knowing the manner of his binding.

Treachery there had been, and foolish anguish - but he would not have chosen other. He could not have chosen otherwise; and at least this time, when he suffered the consequences of one of his brother’s irreverence, there was a bitter pleasure in the paying of it.

No gift could be sweeter to him than the memory of the song borne over the great dark stillness of Thangorodrim. The voice soaring to the heights, saying,

HAIL DECEIVER, SACKER AND THIEF, FROM ANOTHER MURDERER: HOW IS IT TO BE LOATHED AND REGRETTED BY ILÚVITAR, THY VERY OWN KING AND FATHER -

“Alas for what you have wrought, fell lord,” called Maitimo Nelyafinwë. The laughter wound the chains more treacherously still on themselves, but it was worth it, and frankly necessary to defiance to laugh sometimes. “Once he is started, the true challenge is to close his mouth.”

AND KNOW THOU HAST BEEN MADE TO FAIL AND FAIL AND FAIL EVER AND EVER UNTO THE VICTORY OF THE HEAVENS AND INDEED THE FORCE OF ELVES IN WRATH AGAINST THEE -

Morgoth roared, and shock the mountain, and thundered at the skies.

There was a pause. The echo rang, and then the silence; it set, and settled. Morgoth’s immensity blotted out the stars, and grew to match his complacency.

Maitimo waited. His brother held passionately to a theory, regarding the counting of time in silence as a mark authorship, from which every composed could be identified with enough familiarity, and his thesis presentation had gone something like this:

Somewhere in the far, far distance, there was the familiar sound of a harp being strummed in a uniquely obnoxious fashion.

GIVE ME BACK MY BROTHER THOU AVARICIOUS CUR-FACED DULL-WITTED CRAVEN -

For a moment, a terrible abyss of an instant, the full force of Morgoth's loathing filled the air in a silence made of many dimensions and many strains of incredulous rage.

“You heard him,” Maitimo said into it. Teeth-bared, words round and smiling in his mouth. “Cur.”

The chains were really quite dreadful, where they bit into flesh to lash the bones; but he wouldn't have said they weren't worth it, for the look on Morgoth's face just then.

#maedhros #maglor #morgoth #feanorianweek #the silm #silm fic #silmarillion #my fics

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lucassinclaer · 2 months

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INVERSE

Rating: Gen Relationship: Erica Sinclair & Lucas Sinclair Notes: Post-Season 4, Erica Sinclair centric

“Erica,” says her mom, says her dad, says Lucas, and Erica doesn’t know how to say that it hasn’t occurred to her for a second to do things any other way.

READ ON AO3 HERE

this is a fill for my stranger things fic bingo square 'erica sinclair' - (if you wanna participate in the bingo, check out my pinned post!!)

“Erica!” says her music teacher and Erica doesn’t know why she sounds so surprised.

It’s not like she said anything that wasn’t true. She never does.

“Erica!” says Auntie Patrice and pulls her back by her collar.

Erica’s always thought that honesty is the good thing, the right thing, the thing other people would appreciate.

“Erica!” says Tanya on the playground.

She’s eleven and then she’s twelve and somewhere along the way it’s all changed. Her name become an exclamation she doesn’t get.

“Erica,” says her mom, says her dad, says Lucas, and Erica doesn’t know how to say that it hasn’t occurred to her for a second to do things any other way.

•

Here’s the thing: she isn’t trying to be rude.

Sure, she doesn’t care super care if she is, but it’s pretty much never her goal. Besides, shouldn’t it all be based on truth? Truth, justice, the American way. Erica can’t be the only one who pays attention to this stuff.

Sometimes it bugs her friends and they fight. They always make up in the end, but the days they don’t talk still suck.

She’s good in school, so her teachers don’t complain too much but when they have the time they tell her to be careful about running her mouth. Those days suck, too.

Her mom tells her, though – at night when she tucks Erica into bed even though she’s getting way too old for that – that she shouldn’t be anyone but who she is. That she shouldn’t let the world make her into someone else. (Erica doesn’t totally get it. How would that even work? There’s nothing in the world that she’d allow to change her, she’s sure. She doesn’t know where she’d begin.)

So, despite the chidings her mother doles out, Erica knows that she wants her daughter to be herself.

It’s a good thing, too, because Erica really likes being Erica.

•

The swelling of Lucas’ face still hasn’t gone down. Mom and dad fret over it, but the whole of Hawkins has been plunged into chaos and it’s easy to say that he and Erica and Max were in an accident when the quake hit. It’s not even that much of a lie.

Erica does most of the deflecting because her brother can’t be trusted these days. Not that she can blame him – although she still tries to give him grief. Can’t give up on everything normal.

But Max looks awful in that hospital bed, still and horrible. She’s meant to be her brother’s girlfriend who’s much too cool for him, on her skateboard, moving and teasing and fitting in at their house where she likes to watch TV. At least she used to before she stopped coming around. (Lucas never talked about that, at least not to her which makes sense. He still got those pathetic mooning eyes when she came up, though, so Erica knows it wasn’t his choice to break up. And he had hope the whole time. She could tell. He still has hope now and there’s something warm about it that Erica doesn’t know how to name.)

Yeah, Erica really hates that hospital room. It smells terrible, looks worse and there’s always some machine beeping in the background.

But there’s nowhere else to be. Lucas spends every possible moment in that room. The others come to visit when they can. They can only spare so many party members. Sometimes Max’s mother’s there but more often than not it’s just them, Max and Erica and Lucas.

A sick inverse of Saturday mornings spent on the couch where Lucas pretended not to be interested in her cartoons. Where Max would pretend like she didn’t enjoy her mother’s valiant efforts to feed her. Being a teenager involves a lot of pretending, Erica’s learned. It seems beyond exhausting.

Now it’s them playing checkers over Max’s hospital bed, commentating the whole way, before Lucas gets out Tolkien. They finished up The Talisman two days ago.

Today he hesitates. Doesn’t open his stupid Hobbit book and launches into reading.

There’s a heavy silence and when he speaks his voice is all torn up.

“I didn’t save her.” His fingers scratch at the cover, but his eyes are glued to Max’s still, waxy face. “We promised her we wouldn’t miss our shot but we didn’t—” He makes a choking sound like a sob.

There’s a twist in Erica’s chest, sour or like a burn.

“When she wakes up… I don’t know how she could forgive me.”

It’s the rawest Erica thinks she’s ever seen him. It’s unsettling and makes the biting feeling behind her ribs worse. She doesn’t want this to happen. Lucas is the big brother and big brothers aren’t supposed to fall apart.

They can be poked and prodded and provoked and they’ll yell and take their He-Man dolls back and they’ll lie for their sisters about the stain on the good carpet once threatened.

This isn’t right.

The helplessness in his eyes is contagious. It crawls up her arms, immobilizing her inch by inch. If Lucas doesn’t know what to do in this room, how is she supposed to know what to do in this room?

Her brother is broken in this moment, much like Hawkins. They have the same scars. Like he was torn apart with it.

So, she tells him the only thing she ever tells anyone: the truth.

“Well, that’s stupid.”

His head shoots up. He frowns but he doesn’t say anything. He’s listening to her, Erica realizes, like she has an answer he wants to hear.

Everything gets so weird when the world ends.

“That’s what Max would say, and you know it. Stop being stupid.” She’s standing on the opposite side of the bed from where he’s sitting. They bring their own water bottles because the hospital is overflowing still and can’t spare the glasses. Erica puts her bottle (pink to Lucas’ green, mom bought them together) back into their backpack. “You did everything you could. I don’t know how you guys survived ‘til high school. We all knew the risk. Max was never gonna let other people take the fall. It was a dangerous plan, but who else was gonna do anything?”

It's bitter in the back of her throat. She’d looked at the group of them, in that van, before they got to Creel House, and she’d felt cold inside. Everyone they had, everyone willing to fight, had looked so young. Unqualified. Inexperienced.

Child endangerment, she’d told Dustin and Robin an eternity ago. That’s all this town really is now. The evidence lies with them right here in this room.

There’s still something in her that’s constricted. Those words were all she had. She doesn’t know what she’ll do if Lucas pushes back, if it’s not enough.

Slowly, she tears her eyes away from the lonely backpack by the side of Max’s bed.

Lucas has the tiniest smile on his face.

“Erica,” he says, and it sounds like thank you.

#stficbingo #erica sinclair #lucas sinclair #tuserjess #usersen #usercilla #stranger things #emstuff #emfics

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arcanefandomweek · 9 months

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Arcane Year 2 Event Week!

From November 7th to the 13th

#ArcaneYear2 / #ArcaneYearTwo

Let's celebrate Arcane on its second anniversary! All fanworks are welcome! In this special week, you have a choice of two themes, each with unique prompts.

What Could Have Been

Nov 7 : Faction Swap / First Time Nov 8 : Vander Lives / Broken Nov 9 : Hugs / Family / Grief Nov 10 : Food / Gift / Fix It Nov 11 : AU / Soulmate / Adoption Nov 12 : Nightmare / Kiss / Jealousy Nov 13 : Free Day / Goodbyes

What Could Yet Be

Nov 7 : Hextech / Ghost / Blood Nov 8 : Common Enemy / Warwick Nov 9 : Begging / Shimmer / Art Nov 10 : Chaos / Light / Promise Nov 11 : Noxus / Secrets / Fear Nov 12 : Machine Herald / Faith / Lies Nov 13 : Voices / Legacy / Hope

How does this work?

The "What could have been" prompts were chosen to fit fics or art (or meta, playlists, etc) set before or during season 1.

This includes ideas like "Heimerdinger used to travel the world before founding Piltover" set before canon, as well as missing scenes like "Viktor creating his hextech arm" during the time skip, or "Vi waking up in Stillwater".

The "What could yet be" prompts were chosen for speculation about season 2 and beyond.

This includes ideas like "my favourite LoL character definitely rocks into Zaun" or "Jinx frees Warwick" or "How Viktor becomes the Machine Herald"

You can mix and match! You can do one theme for day 1, the other for day 2... And on day 3 you could use the 'family' prompt to write a season 2 AU! Ultimately these prompts are to provide inspiration and a framework. I will not police submissions, so long as you respect the rules. Please read them well!

Rules | AO3 collection | Twitter | FaQ

Participation Bingo for readers and fans

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rookthorne · 2 months

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧

With little else to do during the busy festive period, you made your way to Howlie’s Gym, the place you made a home away from home and where you know your best friend made your haven safe.

What you did not expect to find, however, was him in the office with the brightest smile on his face — as though you hung the moon that shone down over the two of you.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ❥ Personal Trainer!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ❥ 1.9k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ❥ Fluff, pining (so much of it), slight angst (self doubt) ჻჻჻ TROPES: Best friends to lovers

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ❥ Do you see that trope? 👀 ❥ A very special thank you to my discord server and the poll I made for helping me decide on the new additions to this AU. 🥰

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ❥ Someone To You by BANNER

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 ❥ @sweetspicybingo Sweetheart Bingo — Cloud Nine — Masterlist ❥ @rookthorne's Merry Buckmas — Masterlist

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Flurries of snow danced in your vision as they fell to the pavement ahead of where you were walking, your gym bag over your shoulder and a warm, winter coat bundled around your torso to protect you from the cold.

The headphones tucked over your ears doubled as muffs to keep the chill away, as well as playing tunes to block out the sounds of the world as you made your way to Howlie’s Gym, your home away from home.

It was close to Christmas — only a couple more days left before the big day would arrive, whether you liked it or not.

The holidays, while festive and sweet, tended to be on the lonelier side of the spectrum. There was no one for you to spend the day with; not the way you so badly yearned for — of which felt unobtainable. As far away as the stars twinkling in the sky above you, winking and dancing with the snow that fell.

Thoughts swirled and sent a pang of pain through your heart the closer you came to the lit-up gym.

You longed for the one man you had grown close with, the trainer that had dedicated all of his spare time to your regimes, and the very same one that seemed to care beyond all others about your wellbeing.

Over the short time you had gotten to know Bucky, you had grown inexplicably close with the brunette. It was overwhelming to reminisce on what he said during one of the last sessions — the words echoed in your mind when the front door of the gym came into view: “You are one hell of a woman, and I’ll be damned if I see you putting yourself down anymore.”

Never before had someone been so deeply invested in you, and you could only hope that it meant something; perhaps a Christmas miracle was around the corner.

The song changed just as you reached the doors, and you pushed them open with a flourish as you danced on the spot. Not a single soul was in sight and that itself was such a rare occurrence, you couldn’t help but grin happily — a peaceful workout without any gym rats or try-hards ruining your vibe and concentration.

You hummed, singing along to the song as the lyrics picked up tempo. “I wanna be somebody to someone, someone to you–”

“Bubba?”

“Ah!” A muffled squeak caught in your throat, and you whirled around, looking for the source of the voice that had been so close, and who you could have sworn was Bucky himself. “Oh– Oh, hi,” you said as you found the culprit.

Bucky smiled broadly from the office doorway. “Hey, you,” he said softly. “What’re you doing here–? It’s Christmas, isn’t it?”

The gym bag over your shoulder rustled as you shook it. “Well, I don’t have anything else to do, I guess.”

“So you decided to come and keep me company, huh?” he teased, walking towards you. The grey, long-sleeve compression shirt he was wearing did nothing to hide his physique, and his loose hair fell down to his shoulders. Even the navy sweats he wore hugged his body, his thighs impressively stretching the fabric well beyond what was reasonable.

It was either that, or he purposefully decided to wear smaller sized clothes, you reasoned — not that you were complaining, not in the slightest.

“Doll?”

You startled and blinked. “What? Oh! Uh–” Smooth going, you inwardly chastised yourself.

Bucky chuckled and shook his head. “You dork—c’mon, I can help you set up.”

“Right,” you said, nodding once. “Thanks.”

The two of you made your way over to the first piece of equipment in your regime, and Bucky kindly set it up for you, his tongue between his teeth as he put the correct weights on the bar.

“So what are you doing all on your own?” you asked, placing your bag down on a weight bench. Bucky glanced at you, then concentrated back on the equipment. “I mean—like, I thought Howlie’s was closed so close to the holidays, I had to search and make sure you guys were actually open.”

“Like you,” he grunted as he lifted the last weight, and the muscles of his forearms tensed while he manipulated it into place. “I also don’t have anythin’ else to do, so I figured, why not?” He shrugged and stepped back from the equipment, a small smile on his lips. “Can’t hurt to catch up on paperwork or get a head start on the shit for next year.”

“Fair, fair,” you replied. A flood of courage began to flow, and you squared your shoulders — intent on at least trying. “I, uh– Do you want to, um–”

“Do I wanna ‘hang’ with you?” Bucky offered; a brow raised inquisitively. A cheeky smirk pulled the corner of his lips up. “Is that what you’re askin’?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, and you scratched the back of your neck. It suddenly seemed foolish to have spoken up, and the courage soured to shame faster than the blink of an eye. “I mean, you don’t have to– You know what, never mind, I know you have more important–”

“Shut up, Bubba,” Bucky laughed, and you gaped at him, which made him laugh harder. “You’re fuckin’ adorable—‘course I’ll hang with my girl. Just let me finish what I was doing and I’m all yours.”

He walked off, a pep in his step, and you were left there floundering and completely dumbfounded by his choice of words.

“My girl,” he said — surely you imagined that? “I’m all yours,” he promised — you had to be dreaming.

Before you could shake yourself from your reverie, Bucky was already walking back towards you, and he tilted his head; eyes filled with sudden concern. “Doll? You alright–? What’s wrong? You seem out of it tonight.”

“N–Nothing,” you rushed. “I just–” You could not help the falter in your voice when Bucky stepped closer, his face suddenly so damned close to yours.

“Talk to me, Bubba—you’re worrying me, if I’m bein’ honest. What’s up?”

His concern warmed your heart, but you couldn’t help but feel the urge to tilt your head and meet his lips in a kiss.

You pushed that urge down as far as you could, determined to ignore it and force the heat crawling up your neck to stop, too. “Nothing’s wrong, I promise, Buck—I swear. It’s just Christmas… it’s a strange time of year for me, I’m– Well, I’m alone.”

A slight frown pulled the corner of his lips down, and you found you couldn’t stand it.

“I–”

“No, no, I understand,” Bucky said softly. “Me too.”

“Really?” you blurted before you could stop yourself. “I mean, you?”

“Yes, me.” There was a slight tremor to his voice. “Well, I have my boys—and girl, but–” At your widened eyes, he quickly amended with, “My dogs, I mean. I have a couple of dogs, who are currently lazing around back home.”

“Oh! Oh my– Can I see a photo?” you rushed, giddy with excitement. “I love dogs!”

Bucky grinned and pulled his phone from his pocket, the screen alight with a photo of three dogs, side by side. They were huge, but all smiles for the camera — you suspected there were treats offered for that kind of brightness in their faces.

You could immediately tell that one was a Golden Retriever, the creamy coat a dead giveaway, and the largest of the three was a black and white Great Dane. The third dog, however, you couldn’t place, but they were just as cute with a reddish-brown coat of short fur.

“They’re so fluffing adorable, Buck,” you gushed.

He put his phone back into his pocket, mumbling, “Thanks—they’re great running buddies, when they want to fuckin’ behave, that is.”

Somehow, the mention of Bucky’s companions back home soothed the nerves in you, and the two of you comfortably started your sets, content to complete a few reps in silence — bar your grunts and groans of effort, while Bucky was as silent as a mouse. Damn him, you thought.

After several reps, you grunted loudly and placed the weights back on the bar, panting for air. “How the fuck do you stay so quiet?” you demanded of Bucky, staring at him while he sat up on the bench.

There was an arrogant, charming smile on his lips. “Practice, doll. You’ll get there.”

Silence followed his proclamation, and you slumped back against the equipment.

The endorphins from the workout coursed through you, and that same sense of courage surged like a fire, burning through your reservations and inhibitions faster than a match to gunpowder — too many pirate movies, you thought privately.

“Bucky,” you said tentatively, and you licked your lips, tasting the sweat from your workout. “I want to ask you something…”

“Oh?” He shuffled up the bench to sit closer to you. His elbows rested on his knees, and his arms hung between his thighs; you couldn’t help but greedily drink in the sight of the stray strands of hair plastered to his forehead from his own workout. “Lemme guess, does it have something to do with Christmas?”

“Not exactly.”

“Okay,” he said, and he looked at you expectantly. The tip of his tongue ran over his lips. “What is it?”

The words lodged in your throat, and your mouth worked uselessly to free them, but it didn’t work. You let out a groan of frustration. “I– God, why is this so hard?”

Something flashed in Bucky’s bright eyes, the blue of them deepening to an ocean hue. “I happen to be very good at reading people, sweetheart,” he said, and you froze — a deer in headlights as you stared at him. “And if I’m wrong, feel free to put an end to whatever we have, but–” He cleared his throat and fidgeted a little.

A beat of silence passed where you wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

“But I can’t help but feel something, between us, I mean. Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“How the fuck did you know?” you whispered, awestruck.

Bucky’s shoulders slumped in apparent relief. “Your heart eyes aren’t exactly subtle, doll.”

Shit, you silently cursed.

“Now that I know what you wanna ask me, I think I might help you out,” he offered gently, “what d’you say?”

Unable to find the words while Christmas carols played over the speakers that lined the ceiling — the volume so quiet you almost had to strain to pick it up over the thumping beat of your heart in your ears — you nodded.

“Alright then,” Bucky said, and he stood up to walk over to you. He reached for your hands, and you offered them — the warmth of his hands shocked you, but not as badly as when he kissed the back of your left hand, then the right. “Bubba, my girl, and my best friend…” His lips pulled up into a smile, the brightest you’d ever seen. “Would you go on a date with me?”

Before you could even consider his words, your mouth moved faster than your mind and you blurted, “As long as you bring your dogs.”

A bark of laughter split the tension, and you hugged Bucky tight, not caring about standing in the middle of his gym, shaking like a leaf from the giddy happiness and surprise.

Christmas miracles were, in fact, real, you decided.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

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