Pairing: Peter Parker x Enhanced!Reader
Warnings: some angst, mentions of capture and torture, swearing, hella fluff
summary: As the unofficial healer for the Avengers, you pride yourself on the ability to mend heroes with the touch of your hand. Only, your gift comes at a heavy price — one you keep secret from your friends —and when Bucky asks you to do the impossible, they’ll discover why your gift is called a sacrifice, too.
pairing: bucky x healer!reader
word count: 10k
warnings: canon level violence
As a child, you were told it was a gift; placed upon a pedestal above the quaint suffering of a rural town and removed of your innocence for the good of strangers. You’d been made to be revered – honored – for the touch that could mend the broken.
It began with a cut upon your father’s finger – a slip of a kitchen knife that had left a small bead of blood in its wake. Curious eyes glanced up at your father as he hissed at the sting of it and you’d reach forward to place your infant hand upon the cut, a grip so mall it barely wrapped around his finger. He stilled as a soft glow began to emit from your palm. When you removed your hand and began to cry, your father was stunned to find his skin perfectly intact – no trace of a scar in its place.
They told you it was a gift, celebrated you as if you were a blessing from Heaven itself. But they were cruel in their rejoice, selfish in their praise. They had not considered your gift was not a gift at all – but a sacrifice.
Like energy, pain could not be destroyed— but it could be absorbed. It could be transferred. Your father’s cut had not simply disappeared, but instead manifested on the finger of an infant for a few short moments before it faded into your skin; laid to rest amongst a sea of foreign injuries that did not belong to you.
Please note that none of these works are written by me and all credits are returned to their respective owners. I’m just here to provide a list of fics that I personally love so that you guys can enjoy too!
Bucky x Reader
thank you so much! i am honored to be on this list with authors i have been reading since i first joined this app and started writing 🥺
just a reminder for watching The Devil All The Time…
this movie/ book isn’t for everyone, there are reasons why this movie is rated r. remember just because you’re fave is in the movie doesn’t mean you should automatically thirst over the character they play
you aren’t any less of a fan if you don’t watch the film
here is a list of Trigger Warnings (TW) that are in the film:
- death (including animal death)
- domestic abuse
- sexual content/nudity
I’m just passing along this for the younger fans too. I’m going to watch it tonight, and I don’t even know if I’ll get through it myself.
So…watched it. Not as bad as I thought, but definitely an adult movie and adult themes. I’m glad I had read the plot before watching it for sure. 😬
– DEMON!AU – ONE SHOT –
pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x black!reader || word count: 5,783 || warnings: smut, sex, vaginal fingering, demon possession, language, angels/demons || challenge: @wxntersoldiers 6k au challenge - demon!au || summary: heaven was above, hell was below - but now they’re both on earth, and you’re stuck in the middle. || author’s note: i stole a little from supernatural, a little from the bible (this is not a religious fic and I am in no way trying to push any religions/beliefs onto anyone!), and also took some liberties for this one! also, major thanks to @tropicalcap & @littleheavensangel2 for helping me figure this fic out. love you two ladies!
just for reference, steve is archangel Michael, bucky is fallen angel Azazel, sam is archangel Uriel, rhodey (james) is archangel Gabriel.
line divider by @/writeyourmindaway!
You grip the shotgun tightly, your finger curled around the trigger as you stare down the long barrel. You keep your left hand cupped around the forearm as you press the tip of the gun into the rusty, old metal door, pushing it open with a loud creak. Your eyes dart around the abandoned warehouse as you move into the damp, dank room, the smell of sulfur hitting your nostrils.
Something shifts from somewhere deep in the warehouse - the familiar click of something metal hitting the floor. You whip in the direction of the noise, your eyesight aligning with the small sight at the end of the barrel, your breath going shallow. You stand stark still, just waiting for something - anything - to move, growl, or breathe, so you can blow it right back to the fiery pit of hell it came from. But nothing moves, nothing growls, nothing breathes - it’s just you and the silence of this new world.
You cut your eyes back into the center of the room and move forward, each step balanced and focused. You lower your weapon, very slightly, as you walk up on a small, burnt out fire. You kick at the old newspapers and napkins before you scan the room with your squinted eyes and kneel down beside it. You pick at the burnt rubble, lifting some to your nose to sniff at it before throwing it back into the burnt pile. Whoever was here is long gone.
You close your eyes and bring your hand to your face, letting out a deep sigh. You rub your forehead and then your eyes before you grab the back of your neck. Sleep is pulling at you. Steve’s voice rings in the back of your mind - you can’t keep going like this. You’ve been through worse. All the survivors have. A few nights without sleep is considered a privilege these days.
You take another deep breath but jolt back up on your feet, spinning around and hoisting your shotgun back up to your face. Sulfur fills your nostrils, stronger than when you first stepped into the warehouse. Then, there’s a soft sound of steps, one slowly after the other, circling you. You blink, but move with the noise, following it in a circle, training your eyes on the darkness.
Anonymous requested: hi! i love your writing so much, i was wondering if i could request a one shot where the reader is one of the only people that is kind to bucky (besides steve obviously) and he doesn’t understand why but the reader is too scared to say that theyre in love with him
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Word Count: 2,374
A/N: I’m FINALLY writing requests I’ve never been prouder of myself :’) let me know what y’all think!
“Look who decided to finally show up.” Tony’s voice was the loudest amongst the chatter at the table, making everyone else stop and turn to see who he was referring to.
Bucky Barnes stood at the door of the dining room, wearing a button down and jeans but with unkempt hair and dark circles under his eyes. It was evident he had gotten almost no sleep. The slump of his shoulders and the hunch in his figure showed just how tired she was.
“Fun fact: No one lives here for free, Barnes. We all have jobs. The luxury of sleeping in is only for guests, which, unfortunately, you are not.”
Your foot shot up to kick Tony in the shin, sending him a glare that told him to shut up.
this lives in my head RENT FREE
Summary: 70 years later, Bucky is still as in love with the reader as he was all that time ago.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Word Count: 1,274
A/N: Just a lil fluffy piece loosely based off of James Arthur’s Say You Won’t Let Go
Voices. Music. Laughter. Glass clinking. People dancing.
Her eyes were wide and bright, face set in a permanent grin. She was on her seventh drink, Bucky was counting. So that meant she was pretty smashed. Her giggles were loud and uncontrolled. Her state of intoxication made her more open and free than Bucky had ever seen her. And so Bucky couldn’t keep his eyes off her.
hey, would you be able to do a loki fic where the reader is in a really dark place mentally but doesn’t tell anyone on the team so they use self h*rm as a coping mechanism but loki sees the wounds and helps them? sorry i really need this right now
of course, i’m on it. i hope that the pain eases soon
Pairing: Loki x enhanced!Reader
Warnings: swearing, drinking, fluff, a lil angst, and some of the team realizing that Loki isn’t as bad as they thought he was
When you were left to babysit the God of Mischief, you weren’t phased in the slightest. Sure, there were some nerves involved; Loki was the self-proclaimed bad guy. He was the cause for countless deaths in the Battle of New York, he seemed to have minimal morals, and he had a particular distaste for humanity.
Thor brought him to earth–or Midgard, as they called it–so that Loki couldn’t wreak havoc on Asgard. He thought that his brother could use a fresh start. Loki claimed that he was sick of vying for more extraordinary things, which you believed was bullshit. This was Loki–his entire life was nothing but lies and tricks.
But, nevertheless, Tony agreed to keep him holed up in the tower. Loki was never to be alone, but that spelled bad news for anybody who wasn’t busy. More specifically, you; you weren’t the newest to the team, but you were the most humane Avenger who also had a lot of free time. You showed compassion beyond the other members, and therefore were a perfect fit for the job.
Loki mainly kept to himself. He was always in his room, but occasionally he snuck off to different areas of the compound. He always told someone beforehand, which made the team feel better, but the cameras were always kept trained on him.
The first time you were introduced to Loki, your enhanced eyes picked up on his aura. It was a dark indigo color, not too bright and not too dull. You sensed isolation and a looming sense of self-hatred. This was the first reason you took a liking to the prince. The indigo hue also meant that he was hyperaware of people’s intentions, especially the unspoken ones.
And the first time you watched over Loki, you sat in the living room with him and turned on some music while he read and you wrote. He hardly said a word, although you caught him staring at you occasionally. He would just smirk a little and look back down to his book, and you would furrow your eyebrows and continue writing.
You weren’t intimidated by Loki. No, you weren’t as powerful as him, but you could see things that others couldn’t. Auras were the easy part, but you also felt a person’s emotions (no matter how well they were hiding them), and you could sometimes hear a person’s thoughts and see their dreams.
At first, Loki saw you as weak and naive. How else could somebody be so open to dealing with him?
The next several times you watched over Loki, you found yourself getting more attached to him. The conversations weren’t deep, but they left your mind reeling. His head was hard to get into, but you still tried.
One night, Tony said to take over Sam’s shift while he went to a mission debriefing. You weren’t feeling well on a mental level, yet you agreed.
You got to Loki’s door and let Sam go, and then you knocked. Loki opened the door with a smug smirk, but it was quickly wiped away when he saw how you looked. Sweatpants and a hoodie weren’t exactly a rarity for you, but your eyes were red, and you had dark circles and messier-than-normal hair.
His eyebrows furrowed as he shifts his weight. “Can we just go lay outside or something?”
“Of course, love,” Loki responded. If you weren’t so preoccupied with dark thoughts, you’d have questioned the pet name. Loki snaps his fingers, and suddenly he’s out of his black suit and in a pair of grey sweatpants and a t-shirt.
He walked beside you to the roof, where the stars were shining as brightly as they could within New York’s light pollution. Loki remained silent as you laid your back against the cold concrete, and then he followed your actions.
“I’m sorry this isn’t our normal babysitting routine,” You said, laughing drily.
“Don’t apologize; this is quite relaxing,” He responded. You turned your head to face him, only to find that he was already looking at you. “Do you do this often? Look at the stars, I mean?”
“Only when I need perspective,” You shrugged.
You turned your head toward the sky, admiring the twinkling lights. “It’s easy to see the night sky as two-dimensional. It looks like someone covered the earth with a black piece of paper and poked holes in it to let the light through. But each one of those stars is millions of lightyears away. Billions, even. Humans could never even hope to travel to one of them or the solar systems that orbit.” You point out one of the stars–not that it mattered which one. “That star right there doesn’t give two shits about our problems. We are as indistinguishable to them as ants are to us. Sometimes I feel like the world is falling apart, but then I come up here, and I remember that the universe was fine without humans–and it will be fine without us once we go extinct.”
“You speak so beautifully,” Loki starts, sighing as he turns onto his side. “Your mind must be a terribly dark place.”
A scoff erupts from you, and then you’re looking at the god. “Am I that easy to read?”
“Not at all,” Loki says. “You’re always wearing a mask around the team–around me. But this is unadulterated emotion. It’s quite admirable.”
You didn’t notice it until now, but his aura has shifted. It was still a deep indigo blue, but it seemed as though his walls were let down. His emotions were more apparent than they had ever been, and his thoughts nearly screamed at you. He thought about your strength and resilience–how you’ve fought through more shit than many could handle. Yet, here you were, breathing and having philosophical conversations with a god from another world.
“You know,” You start, sitting up. “Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy.”
“And you don’t see it?”
“I see what’s inside. I see so much self-hatred that you’ve turned yourself into the monster others believed you were.” A short pause ensues as you allow Loki to interpret what you’re saying. “You’re not a monster, Loki.”
“I’ve killed thousands of people. I’m the prophetical cause of Ragnarok. I’m–”
“A misunderstood being who found that his whole life was a lie, and therefore became what others said you were. That’s not a monster. That’s a mask.”
“You’ve been in my mind, haven’t you?” He smirked.
You laid back down, shoulder to shoulder with the man beside you. “Only just now. Your walls are damn near impenetrable.”
“Good,” He quips jokingly. Silence falls between you, and all you can hear is the traffic from the city that never sleeps. You both resume staring at the stars until you’ve fallen asleep, and Loki carries you inside.
As Loki exits the elevator, Steve is scared to see you limp in Loki’s arms. Nat is on the defense until she sees that you didn’t pass out or die–you were leaning into Loki, an arm propped against his chest and your head in the crook of his neck.
“Loki what the–”
“Shh,” Loki interjects, making Steve even more upset. Natasha places a hand on his shoulder as a warning to calm down, and the three of them witness you stir a bit in your slumber and bury yourself deeper into Loki’s grasp. “She fell asleep on the rooftop; I’m just putting her in her bed.”
Steve fails to find words as Loki quietly walks down the hallway to your room. Once he gets Friday to let him in, he sets you on the bed. You wake up momentarily, only to ask him to stay with you for a bit. He supposed twenty minutes wouldn’t hurt, so he crawled under the sheets and laid next to you.
The instant you felt Loki’s coolness, you cuddled right into him. Your head rested on his chest, and your arm went around his torso to hold him tighter. What Loki didn’t expect was how warm this made him feel. He rests his arm around you and brings you in even closer. The twenty minutes he had planned on spending with you turned into an overnight stay; he fell asleep with you in his arms.
From then on, you were the only one to watch Loki when the team needed it. You were kind of bummed out that you were taken off missions, but the serenity of watching him made it okay. You watched movies together, stayed in your rooms and talked for hours on end, cooked together, and took naps together.
You hated to say it, but you were falling for Loki. He was respectful, and he was slowly (but surely) growing to tolerate humans and treat them as if they weren’t beneath him.
Tony had announced he would be throwing a party for Natasha’s birthday. He was going all-out and using the entire party deck–four floors included. You showed up late due to a doctor’s appointment earlier on, so the party was lively, and everybody was intoxicated.
You had on a little black dress, and you put effort into your hair and makeup. This was Nat’s birthday, after all, and you respected her a lot. You stayed by the bar area when you arrived to catch up to everybody else’s level of inebriation.
Loki found you less than ten minutes later. There was a clear connection between the two of you, to the point that you had considered that he was listening for your thoughts. “You look amazing, love,” He said, taking a seat next to you.
“You don’t look too bad yourself,” You quipped, watching as the bartender placed five shots on the bar for you.
“Those for some friends?”
“No, they’re for me,” You responded, taking one after another. “I gotta catch up to the crowd.”
Loki chuckles, but then it drops when he sees the liquor cascading down your throat as if it’s water. “Dear, perhaps you should pace yourself.”
You shrugged and ordered a few more shots, and then a mixed drink to sip on. “I’ll be fine, Loki,” You started. You picked up the cup and chugged it back, going against the initial plan of taking it slow. Within minutes, you’re feeling the alcohol’s effects. Your mind goes fuzzy, as do your senses, and the world around you feels lighter. You decided to stop at this level for now since everything was pleasant. The loud music enticed you, and as you looked around, you saw Natasha dancing with Wanda. “And that is my cue,” You smiled, standing up. You wobbled slightly, but quickly caught yourself and briskly walked over to your teammates.
“Took you long enough,” Wanda laughed as you started dancing with them. Little conversation followed that, mostly dancing and singing to the songs.
A slower song came on, and the three of you groaned as you stepped away from the dancing crowd. Natasha and Wanda’s faces hardened as they looked just past you, which immediately told you that Loki was approaching. You turned around as he got next to you, holding out his hand.
“Would you do me the honor of sharing a dance with me?” He asked, his tone as elegant as ever. You smiled and nodded, grabbing on to his cold hand and letting him lead you a few feet over to the crowd’s edge. One of his hands settle at your waist, and yours goes to rest on his chest. He holds your other hand, and then the two of you are swaying to the beat. “They don’t like me, do they?” He asked.
You give a small smile. “It’s less that they don’t like you, and more that they don’t like you with me.”
“Well, I can’t say I blame them.”
“Why’s that?” You asked. Your eyebrows turn up slightly as you gaze up to him. Loki can’t help but think that you looked more beautiful than any goddess he had ever met.
“I’m the bad guy, remember?”
“That’s what people want you to be,” You remind him. He extends his arm to twirl you and then pull you close to him–chest to chest, face to face. “You aren’t a bad person. You put up a wall so that people can’t get close to you. When will you let them down, Loki?”
Loki looks like an angel with the aura surrounding him. It changed right in front of your eyes. Where it was once dark indigo, now it was a clear and bright red. It meant that he could overcome any obstacle and sincerely wanted to change his life for the better. It nearly took your breath away.
“Perhaps now would be a good time,” He whispered. His eyes danced from your eyes to your lips, giving a physical hint to something that you knew just from reading his thoughts. He leans down slightly to gauge your reaction; he finds you also leaning in slowly. Your lips meet somewhere in the middle, and you can just feel the energy that surrounded you both.
His lips, like the rest of his body, were cool to the touch. Yet, they welcomed the heat of your body, like two opposite ends of a magnet meeting. You slowed to a stop in your dance, focusing on the euphoria that a simple kiss brought you. Loki cups your cheek to pull you even closer. The kiss feels like it lasts years, but it was only a few seconds. Your eyes flutter open as you pull away, and a smile spreads across your face.
Nat and Wanda watch with dropped jaws from ten feet away. “I’m gonna kill him,” Wanda states.
“No, Wanda, look at her,” Nat says, directing her friend’s attention to you. “She’s smiling–she’s happy.”
“Maybe she’s faking it.”
“She isn’t faking it,” Natasha responds. “The look in her eyes gives it away. She loves him.” She adjusts her stance and focuses on Loki. “And look at Loki’s face. It has genuine emotion. It isn’t stoic; it isn’t sarcastic–he’s letting her in.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. Why didn’t she tell us?”
“She knows that nobody else trusts him.”
You could hear the conversation despite their hushed words. It was one of the perks of your enhancements. Loki could hear their thoughts, too, which caused him to smile even more. “Would you like to go to bed?” Loki asks you. You nod your head and let him lead you away from the party, into the elevator, and down to the residence levels.
You take off your makeup and change into comfortable clothes, and Loki does the same. It was routine now to hop into the bed together and immediately hold each other. This time, though, when the movie is turned on, neither of you focus on the plot. You’re too wrapped up in each other, kissing whenever one of you felt like it, talking here and there, and just being absorbed into each other’s consciousness.
Loki was the proverbial bad guy. He had done horrible things in his past, and he had turned himself into a monster because his father had told him he was one. But Loki wasn’t bad at all; he was misunderstood, yes, but not evil. This was a man that you could spend all of your days with, and who wouldn’t drain you. He was not a monster. He could never be a monster.
Who hacked that!
in case anyone needs a reference
For future ‘everyone living happily in Stark Tower’ fics.
Because 2012 was a simpler, happier time.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x enhanced!Reader
Warnings: angst, character death, anger, more death (of the murder variety), reader painted in a negative light
Steve had to hold her when she found out. Hydra had taken her little sister–hardly a teenager–. (Y/N) was beyond angry, she was beyond desperate, she was beyond anything that Steve had ever seen from his girlfriend. The energy in her veins hummed loudly, the lights flickered in the room (and, according to Tony, the entire tower), and sparks occasionally flickered in her eyes.
He didn’t know how to help (Y/N). She was usually composed and in control of her emotions–with electrical manipulation, you had to be in control lest something horrible happened.
Hydra contacted (Y/N) directly–found her number from her sister’s phone and dialed it at 0433, when she and Steve were in the middle of something. Had it been anybody else besides her mom or sister’s name, she would’ve let it go to voicemail. But her sister was never up at this time, and she hardly called first. So, she answered.
The deal was simple. Her or her sister. Hydra wanted their little soldier back, and if they didn’t get her, they would turn her sister into another one of their creations. And if anybody else came with (Y/N), they’d kill her on the spot. (Y/N) grit her teeth and told them that she would do it, and then she fried her phone in her hand.
“What’s going on?” Steve asked, slipping his underwear and sweatpants on.
(Y/N) was sparking and humming, and she let her control slip. Steve held her, biting back the fear of being electrocuted until she could get her emotions in check. “They have my sister.”
“What?” Steve asked in shock. He grabbed his shirt and threw it on unceremoniously, walking toward the door. “We’re telling Tony.”
“Steve, no,” (Y/N) commanded. “It’s her or me. If anybody comes with me, they kill her.”
“We’re coming up with a plan,” Steve asserted, shaking his head. “Now, come on.”
The lights flickered in and out as (Y/N) and Steve walked down the hallways and to the elevator. Steve went up to Tony’s floor (lucky bastard got a whole level to himself while the rest of the team shared another) and walked in, calling out for him.
The second (Y/N) walked into the living room, all of the lights on the floor turned on. “Don’t you two have some enhanced super-babies to be making?” Tony asked, coming out in a robe while rubbing his eyes.
“We were trying; something came up,” Steve said. His voice was short and pointed due to the urgency of the matter. “It’s (Y/N)’s sister–”
As soon as he mentioned her sister, the lights got twice as bright and began humming–a telltale sign that they would explode quickly.
“Come on, take a breath,” Tony said, coming up to (Y/N) and resting his hands on her shoulders. “Look at me; control it, take a second, then tell me what’s going on.”
So she did. (Y/N) closes her eyes, takes a few deep breaths, and empties her mind–she’s done it a thousand times before; it’s second nature now. She snapped her eyes open and went in to report mode.
“Braxton Novikai found my number and called me. Hydra agent. He was heavily involved in my enhancement. He took my sister captive and said that they’d run their experiments on her if I don’t come back. And if anybody tries to get us out of it, they’ll kill her.”
Tony’s jaw clenched in anger. He knew that (Y/N) had been through too much shit. If she went back, she’d likely be gone forever. She’d never recover from what they’d do to her, from what they’d use her for.
But he also knew that she’d much rather do that than have any harm come to her little sister.
“How can we help?” Tony asked, letting go of her shoulders.
“You don’t,” (Y/N) said concisely. “You let me go, and you never seek me out. Keep my sister safe.”
“Sweetheart, that’s ridiculous,” Steve interjected. “We can’t let you do that.”
“Too bad,” She quipped. She turned her back and went to the elevator.
Steve and Tony shared a look, and then the super-soldier ran after (Y/N). He found her getting into her tactical suit. She knew that the second Hydra got her back, they’d strip her of it and possibly even destroy it, but this was going to be her last shred of humanity. They’d brainwash her and send her on missions, sit her down for a mission report, and then wipe her clean–just as they had done with Bucky.
“(Y/N), please, let’s figure this out,” Steve pleaded. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Don’t you get it?” She snapped. “There’s no way around this. It’s her or me.” She did the last of the buckles and looked up at her boyfriend. The amount of pain that she felt just from looking at him was overwhelming. She wanted to live the rest of her life with Steve. She wanted to retire with him, maybe have a family with a couple of animals. Get a house. Get married. She fully believed that he was it. She didn’t want to lose him. She didn’t know how she could handle not having him in her life in some capacity. But, “I can’t lose my sister.”
“(Y/N). You’re not thinking right now. Let’s sit and–”
“I love you,” She interjected. “I thought that you were the one for me. I still do. But this is my sister. I will always choose my sister.”
(Y/N) grabbed her keys and gave one last look to her boyfriend and then turned to leave. This time, he let her go. He immediately went up to Tony, who was already getting dressed and calling others from the team.
Ecuador was blistering hot this time of year. (Y/N)’s tactical suit clung to her, Tony’s cooling suit material doing little to help the humidity surrounding her. She walked to the base, which was unsuspiciously placed a mile into the forest.
“We knew you’d come back,” Zola smirked upon her entrance.
“Let her go, then you’ll have me back,” She responded stoically.
“Tsk tsk tsk,” He said, circling the young teenager held up by two men. “I thought I said to come alone.”
“I did,” (Y/N) responded concisely. “You gave me the call, and I dropped everything and left.”
“Then why is my radar telling me that there’s a quinjet right outside and four Avengers walking in?” Zola quirked an eyebrow before looking back at the young girl and two men. Right as the doors burst open, Zola gives a command, and the two men inject something into the young girl’s neck, and then they drop her to the ground.
The pure anger that flooded (Y/N)’s veins was overwhelming. She feels her energy surge all at once, emitting a golden explosion while she screams out for her sister. Everybody falls backward before she’s running and collapsing on the ground next to her sister.
It was easy to tell that she was barely hanging on. While men swarm out of the open room’s many doors, she comforts her little sister by holding her close and stroking her hair. She says sweet words as the light drains from her eyes. Tears slide from both of the sisters, and as soon as the girl stops moving, (Y/N) stands up and lets the anger transform her.
Battle cries are the best way to describe the noises coming from (Y/N). She demolishes any Hydra agent that she comes in contact with. Bright golden light is pressed into the men’s eyes, and there are nothing but burned sockets left. Once they’re blinded, she releases her energy into their hearts, making damn sure they feel their death coming to them.
The last one dies, and she looks at her team. Steve, of course, and also Bucky, Tony, and Nat. The air that once inhabited (Y/N)’s lungs left, and she collapses to the ground and cries. She’s broken at the loss of her sister. Nobody blames her.
Steve places a hand on her shoulder. He doesn’t know how to help her–she’s completely broken inside. Steve looks at Bucky and nudges his head toward (Y/N)’s sister’s body. Bucky kneels next to her, but (Y/N) snatches his wrist in her hand.
“Hey, baby, look at me,” Steve says soothingly. “He’s bringing her on the jet with us, and we’re gonna make arrangements. Can you let him do that?”
She looks from Steve to Bucky, who gives her a curt nod. She took a deep breath and released his wrist, and he picks up the body. (Y/N) stands up next to her boyfriend, sparing a glance before following Bucky out to the jet.
When they get back to the compound, Tony contacts the others of the family. (Y/N) walked to her room and started the shower, stripping off the clothing layers that clung to her body.
The water was steaming hot as she stepped in, nearly making her hiss as she steps under the streams. She can hear Steve outside the bathroom door, and she wonders how long he’ll take to come inside.
It was five minutes exactly, and then Steve steps in. He’s in a pair of boxers and nothing else. “Can I come in with you?” He asks.
(Y/N) nods her head, and he slips out of his boxers before opening the glass door. He holds her for a moment, letting the water run over them as he runs his hand up and down her back. He reaches for the shampoo, then the conditioner, and then the body wash, making sure that he takes his time and is gentle with each motion. He leaves light kisses on her shoulders, on her forehead, on her hands.
“It’s my fault,” She mutters once in a while. It hurts to hear it, but Steve lets her say and do what she wishes, whatever helps her.
They lay in bed hours later, no clothing on them, hair a mess, chests moving erratically. It helps her at the moment, but as soon as they lay and say nothing, she’s thinking about it again.
Steve helps her get to sleep, and then they’re making arrangements the next morning with Tony.
“I’m paying for everything; don’t even try to argue,” Tony says. “I talked to your mom last night, and she’s on her way to the compound for legal reasons. Cremation, no burial, keep it small–her orders. We have the front row for her, you, your–”
“I’m not going,” (Y/N) interjected. Tony and Steve fell silent for a moment. “It’s my fault that she’s dead. The attendees aren’t going to see me as (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the big sister; they’re going to see me as (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the reason she’s dead.”
“That’s not true,” Steve said, placing a hand on her back.
“Yes, it is, and you know it.” (Y/N) stepped away from Steve’s hand. “I could have stopped this. I could’ve stopped her from–” She cut herself off, not wanting to even finish the sentence. Saying it out loud meant that it was true, and (Y/N) wasn’t ready to handle that. She knew that she’d have to come to terms with it eventually, but today was not that day. Healing does not happen overnight.
(Y/N)’s mom showed up forty-five minutes later. The woman’s eyes were red and puffy from crying.
“I want an open casket showing for her, and then I want her to have a Christian burial,” The mother said.
“She didn’t want that,” (Y/N) muttered. “She wrote down what she wanted to have in case she died. Said she didn’t want a showing; she wanted a natural burial under a willow tree.”
“You have no say in what happens to her–if it wasn’t for you doing this superhero bullshit, she’d be alive right now. So shut your mouth and stop pretending like you cared about her!”
(Y/N)’s face was stoic as she looked at her mother—the woman who raised her and loved her unconditionally for her entire life–until now. She looked at Tony and Steve, that same blank expression on her face. “I told you,” She said, sparks coming out from around her. “Mom, you know damn well I cared about her. Yes, her death was my fault, but don’t you come in here like my job is what makes me a shitty person. I assure you that I got that from you.”
And with those final words, (Y/N) walked out of the room. She spent that entire day in the gym with Bucky, Sam, and Nat. She had so much anger coursing through her that she won nearly every spar and split three punching bags.
Steve walked in at seven in the evening, long after everybody else had left the gym. “Sweetheart, you’ve been down here for ten hours.”
“And?” She snarked, taking another swing at the punching bag. Steve came up in front of her and placed his hands on her elbows. “Let me go, please.”
“Only if you come up for the night,” Steve bartered. “And I’m not taking no for an answer.”
(Y/N) rolled her eyes and took off her gloves, following Steve through the door and to the elevator. “I really wish you’d stop worrying so much about me.”
“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?”
“A typical one.”
Steve sighs as they step into their shared bedroom. “I’m always going to worry about you. I love you, and I know that this is a massive deal for you. What your mom said wasn’t right or fair–”
“But, it was true.”
“You couldn’t have predicted that,” Steve said as he helped you out of your clothes. “You didn’t know.”
“I should have,” She insists, now down to her bra and underwear. Steve starts up a shower for her, and she steps in. “Are you coming in, too?”
“No, I’m going to make you something to eat,” He responded, leaning over and kissing (Y/N)’s cheek. She reaches up and cups his face, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
Steve smiles and steps back, shutting the sliding glass door. While he’s gone, (Y/N) takes her time to clean her body. She uses every product she can think of to calm her angered mind. Lavender soaps. Tea tree shampoo and conditioner. Lemon balm sugar scrub. Raspberry shaving cream. It hardly made a difference. Where the anger once resided, sadness moved in.
Steve returned to the bathroom right when (Y/N) turned the water off. He handed her a warm towel–fresh out of the dryer, he said.
He made her some homemade pizza, which was lying on the bed. “They were supposed to send me on a mission tomorrow, but I had Buck take my place.”
(Y/N) snapped her attention to her boyfriend. “Baby, you don’t have to skip out on missions for me. I’d have gone with you.”
Steve shook his head. “That isn’t a good idea. Not when you’re in this state of mind.”
“I’m fine, Steve,” She insisted. “A mission would be good for me.”
Steve swallowed harshly, and then he nodded. “I’ll text Tony. But you have to promise to stay with me.” His instructions were clear. She nods her head in agreeance. He reaches for his phone and texts Tony, but he isn’t sure that his sweet girlfriend should be in the field. Not yet. H didn’t think that she was stable enough right now–not when her sister’s death was so fresh in her mind.
They both had nightmares that night. For Steve, he saw you being reckless. For (Y/N), she saw her sister’s death play out in numerous cycles.
Tony agreed to let you go on the mission. It was a raid, two days tops, and there wasn’t supposed to be any combat. Steve and Tony agreed that doing some intel would be the best approach right now. It was comfortable, distracting, and had a minimal opportunity for escalation.
That was until their cover was blown. The team was at a dinner party when it happened, and one of the assailants recognized (Y/N). Steve used the comms to tell Tony, Bucky, and (Y/N) to get out as quickly and quietly as possible and meet at the rendezvous point. She was in the hallway as a man approached her.
The suited man grabbed (Y/N)’s arm and shoved her into a room, locking the door behind them. When she looked at who was there, she saw six men, all of whom were bigger than she was (and somewhat intimidating).
She wasn’t scared in the slightest. She knew that she could get her way out of this.
“What are you doing here?” One man (who (Y/N) had guessed to be the ringleader of this circus) asked.
“Wow, no introductions or anything,” She tsked. “Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?”
“Now is not the time to be snarky,” Another man said, kicking (Y/N) in the back of the knees, so she was on the ground. She could feel her anger rising–emotional regulation was not on the list of strengths as of late.
“Don’t test me, extra number three,” She responded, rolling her eyes. She knew that it was only a matter of seconds before someone was coming to get her–it was standard to leave the comms on when leaving for an emergency.
The idiots’ leader kneeled to (Y/N)’s level, a scowl adorning his features. “We’re going to get as much information from you as we can, and then we’re going to take you to see your sister again.”
That caught her attention. “Mention her one more time, and you’re dead,” She warned, already feeling the electricity humming through her veins. Her jaw was clenched; her features were cold like steel.
The man chuckled lowly. “What? Don’t you want to apologize to her face-to-face?”
The scream that came from (Y/N)’s throat was deadly. She stood to her feet and let out a ball of energy, which killed the four men standing closest to her. One of the two remaining men lunged at her, but she narrowly dodged the hit and rebutted with a roundhouse. She pulled the knife that was strapped to her thigh and lodged it in his heart and then ran at the second guy (as Steve opened the door).
She doesn’t even notice her boyfriend standing in the doorway as she uses the man’s body to climb onto his shoulders, legs on either side of his face. She grabs the nearby wall and uses it to gain momentum, breaking the man’s neck between her thighs. As he falls to the ground, she hops off and catches her breath.
Steve stands in awe of what he sees. Six men, dead. Four of them with blood coming out of their ears and burning holes where their eyes once existed. His girlfriend, standing in a circle of bodies as if she had hardly lifted a finger.
“Baby…” He trails, trying to meet her gaze.
“Don’t,” She interjects sternly. “I’ll file the debriefing and hand in my resignation from the team.”
She steps over one of the men without a glance, brushing past Steve and leaving him motionless.
She’s stoic on the trip back to the compound. Not a single word. Not a single movement. It hardly seemed like her mind was in her body. She doesn’t even shower before she seeks out Fury.
He doesn’t even have to hear her resignation. After she explained what went down, he gave her two months of unpaid leave. No missions, no team exercises. She wasn’t even going to be staying in the compound for the first five weeks. Fury sent her to Wakanda, where T’Challa and Shuri worked with her to accept her sister’s death.
Wrath worms its way into everybody’s life. Sometimes it’s subtle, others it isn’t. For (Y/N), she was found to be dangerous. She blamed herself for her sister’s passing. She always would. But, with time, she learned how not to let it control her emotions, which were much more even upon her arrival back home. She refused to use her powers; although, she was still a weapon without them.
It was time to let it go. Let go of the burdens, of the bottled up emotions, of the resentment. It wasn’t time to move on, but it was time to rebuild.
Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: You have to flirt with Bucky’s buyer and you were successful, however, Bucky was the least bit impressed.
Author’s Note: Lmao i completely and utterly forgot to post this on tumblr but this was for the marvel x reader fic fest that @fandomsandxfiles had hosted!
Warnings: jealousy, anger, smut!!, rough sex, fingering, [18+ only]
Bucky’s coming home today.
You sigh, taking a fluffy brush and placing some translucent powder onto your skin. Your fancy white dress felt like it was hugging you. You turned to see Alpine strutting into the bathroom and purring against your legs. Bucky had to deal with a couple of lackeys that turned out to be spies from the Russian Mob. He had to be in New Jersey as well, so it’s been an entire week without your sweet, loving husband.
Summary: In which Steve knows more than he lets on.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, former Steve Rogers x fem!Reader
Warnings: Light smut 18+, some post-Endgame angst, sadness, heartbreak, fluff
Notes: I’ve been wanting to write something post-Endgame, and I know there’s a lot of these out there, but who cares? We all have feelings after Endgame. Enjoy, kiddos. There’s some light smut in the beginning, and some more further down the line, but this is not PWP. But still you should be 18+.
You’d known what he was going to do before he’d even uttered the words, “Can we talk?” Steve Rogers is nothing if not totally predictable in the most selfless of ways, and even as he sits you down, takes your hands with that resigned, contemplative look on his face, you figure he deserves a little selfishness after so many years of self-sacrifice.
“It’s her, isn’t it?” you begin before he can choke out the words he knows will break your heart. There’s no crack in your voice, no sign that you’re a breath away from breaking, but there is an ache deep in your chest. Your smile is sad but wistful when he nods, ducking his head to avoid your eyes. “That trip through the Quantum Realm really did a number on you, didn’t it?”
Steve sighs, keeps your fingers locked between his as he sits back against the couch of the living room.
aka “sometimes i feel like i wanna make out with you is that a friend thing to do?” type of things
(send a name and a sentence)
- “You’ve been pouting ever since I went out on that date, what’s up?”
- “We always share blankets on the couch, I’m sure sharing the bed for the night is fine too.”
- “Your lips are getting really close to mine.”
- “I’m not jealous, but, like, come on, movie night is just for me and you only.”
- “I dare you to kiss me.”
- “No, go on the Ferris Wheel with me, not them.”
- “You can share my jacket with me, since you’re shivering.”
- “Why is your hand on my ass?”
- “Cuddle with me.”
- “I just kissed your forehead, chill.”
- “Shit, how’d you make me blush like this?”
- “Are you trying to turn me on?”
- “Let’s hang out, but I’ll pay for everything, and we can go to this fancy restaurant– No, not a date.”
- “Okay, I guess this is a date, actually.”
- “Stop with the tongue thing, it’s strangely attractive.”
- “I keep telling them we’re not dating, but they keep telling me friends don’t normally make out when drunk.”
- “I don’t want to be friends with benefits, but I do want something more, I just can’t figure out what.”
- “When did you get so beautiful?”
- “If you’re going to dress like that, I’m not going to let you out of my sight.”
- “Their pick-up line wasn’t as good as any of mine, I’m just saying.”
- “No, I don’t know how I got a boner, It just kind of happened! It’s because of how you were eating that ice cream, I bet!”
- “I’m holding your hand because the movie is scary, alright? It’s a… Terrifying… Rom-com… ….. .”
- “Why’d you let go of me?”
- “I accidentally called you my girlfriend/boyfriend today.”
- “I kissed you because we were drunk.”
- “I kissed you because I didn’t know what else to do.”
- “Could you not talk to him/her, please? I think they’re trying to date you.”
- “I wish we could stay like this forever…”
- “I had this dream where we were dating.”
- “I had this dream where you kissed me, and I kind of want to try it now.”
- “Why do you always call me when I’m on a date?”
- “No, I can’t hang out, I’m on a date and you know that.”
- “Okay, maybe I am a bit jealous.”
- “Just remember, he/she’s not the one who taught you how to kiss.”
- “It’s weird how we’ve been friends for so long, but never went through that ‘crushing’ phase.”
- “Maybe I want to kiss you because it’s cold and about to be cuddle season.”
- “I say this a lot, but, look, they’re not good enough for you.”
- “You’re always wrapping your arms around me in lines.”
- “I was listening to that love song, and you came to mind. Weird, right?”
- “You know this voucher only works for couples, right?”
- “Are you implying that you want to kiss me?”
- “Why are you looking at me like that?”
- “You’re blushing so hard, all I did was say “I love you” in French.”
- “I could get used to waking up next to you, actually.”
- “Right… Well… I’m not sure how we ended up kissing like that…”
- “I’m personally offended that you didn’t get me to be your fake date.”
- “We would make a pretty good couple.”
- “The date didn’t go well. Yeah, she/he didn’t like how I kept mentioning all of our adventures.”
- “How come I always end up calling you when I can’t fall asleep?”
- “Sometimes i feel like i wanna make out with you is that a friend thing to do?”
Let’s write something!
Let’s do a prompt day. Send me a prompt and I’ll write up a drabble. I’m feeling like I can do at least 5 today maybe more if I can get out of some adulting.
- 500 words or more
- Steve, Bucky or Ransom
- Will write for current WIP pairings
- Please send the entire prompt
- Shy? Send on Anon. But I do like knowing who I’m writing for.
Pairing: Steve Rogers X Double agent! Reader
Word count: 1205 words.
Summary: A damsel in distress who is actually a villain that captures the heroes that have come to “save” her.
Warnings: Angst, betrayal.
A/N: This is my entry to the @rogvewitch ‘s almost 1K writing challenge with the teen movie prompt #8:
“Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer” Cruel intentions.
Also is my entry to the @tilltheendwilliwrite ‘s 7.7K follower celebration with the story prompt-Blue #13:
My entry to the @startrekkingaroundasgard’s Nicola’s 5K Challenge with the Angst prompt #8:
“The truth is: I was only ever using you.”
And my entry to the @buckysrighthanddoll’s writing challenge with the prompt #2:
“Of course you’re poisoned. I’m the one who gave it to you”.
My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.
I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work). If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.
My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.
If you like it please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.
The training that day had been pleasant, in the end, they had managed to assign in different teams the recruits and all seemed satisfied. Fury always flattered the great pair of missions that you and Steve were, as they got the best results in training and missions. You had just left the showers at the gym, you’d go check the paperwork for the next mission when you got a notification, there was a last-minute mission, it was an emergency, and you rolled your eyes.
“Is it an emergency mission?” You questioned when you saw Steve.
i love it!! thank you so much :)
charities to donate to in honor of Chadwick Boseman:
mental health resources:
world suicide hotlines:
Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader (college AU)
Warnings: drinking, fluff, a teensy bit of angst (y’all know it’s me lol), swearing
A.N.: This is part two of my Seven Deadly Sins series!!! Read part one here called “Envy” with Bucky Barnes :)
You were never the drinking type. Throughout high school, you maybe had three drinks. It wasn’t that you were consumed with your bookwork or couldn’t sneak out to parties. You had plenty of opportunities.
It was now the third year of college. You were well on your way to your degree, you had an established friend group, and you had a decent enough social life. But when MJ invited you to a party this Friday, you found yourself feeling nervous.
There were a few parties in college that you attended. Every time you got uncomfortable and left early. Every time you stood in the corner with one or two of your friends from class. Every time you were home by midnight.
This time was different.
“MJ, you know–”
“That you’re a lame-ass who won’t hang out with some friends?” MJ interjected. “Come on, (Y/N), it’s just us. Even Ned is gonna be there.” Before you could even respond, she spoke again. “Peter said he’d be there.”
That caught your attention. You contemplated the decision in your head–the party was this Friday, which gave you today to prepare; however, you had a test at 10:00 am on Saturday.
“Fine. You said it was at your apartment, right?”
“Yes. Be there at 10 to help me set up,” MJ smiled, pivoting on her feet and heading to her next class. You sighed and gave a half-smile at her.
MJ knew damn well that you had a thing for Peter. And, beyond that, she insisted that he liked you, too. It was a load of bullshit, but she wouldn’t change her mind.
Finishing your classes for the day was easy. Today was Thursday, which meant you had Art appreciation, Spanish 312, and organic chemistry. That night, you set up your studying supplies and got to work.
Within an hour, you lost focus. You kept worrying about that damn party, but you logically knew that you didn’t need to. It was a few friends. Peter, Ned, MJ, and her boyfriend Mark were the only people that were supposed to be there. They were all people that you knew and trusted. As long as you didn’t drink, you’d be fine.
“Hey (Y/N/N),” Peter said, making you jump. He laughs, which immediately eases your anxieties. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I left my door unlocked again, didn’t I?” You asked, standing from your desk. He nods his head and sits on the chair by the kitchen counter. “You want something to drink?”
“Water, please,” He responds. He was always so polite, even though you’d known him since sophomore year of high school. The two of you knew everything about each other. He knew about your past traumas and experiences; you knew that he was Spider-Man.
Ya know, the usual.
You got the glass of water and threw a couple of personal pan pizzas in the oven. “I thought you were gonna study for the test on Saturday.”
“I got bored,” Peter shrugs. You sit next to him and rest your arm on the counter. “Figured I’d come to see my favorite girl,” He smiles. He gives one of those small smirks that he (recently) found to drive girls mad, but you simply raise your eyebrow.
“She’s probably in my room.”
At the perfect moment, a fuzzy black cat prances into the kitchen. Her name was Razzle, Razz for short, and she was the cutest damn cat to grace your existence. Peter adored her. There were times when you’d come home from class and see him playing with her on the floor. There were times when Peter would stay the night, and you’d wake up to see a fuzzy black ball on his chest. The scene was so cute that you took a picture (which may or may not be your lock screen, shh).
Razz jumps into Peter’s lap and immediately starts purring. His smile gets even bigger, and he scratches under the cat’s chin (the sight alone makes your heart soar).
“You wanna watch a movie?” Peter asks.
The oven dings, making you stand up to get the pizza. “As long as we can go over the vocab for the test afterward.”
Peter groans, but you know that it’s sarcastic. “Deal.”
Peter goes to the living room area and turns on a random movie. You place the pizzas on paper plates and carry them out to where he’s sitting on the couch, his feet propped up onto the table. At least he had his socks on.
Thirty minutes into the movie, you weren’t paying attention anymore. All you could focus on was the way the screen lit Peter’s face; the way his eyes followed every action; the way his body jerked during a fight scene; the way his lips looked so soft and kissable and–
“Is there something on my face?” Peter asked. You snapped your gaze to the empty plate ahead of you. That’s one thing that you loved about Peter–besides his improved spidey-senses, he (sort of) grew out of his awkwardness.
“No, uh, I got lost in thought,” You lied. You grabbed his empty plate and took it to the kitchen to throw in the garbage. Taking a second to collect yourself, you went back to the couch. You scoffed at Peter, who was under a blanket and taking all three spots. “You’re such a dipshit.”
“But I’m your dipshit,” Peter retorted. You rolled your eyes as he sat up, allowing you to sit where his head just was. You plopped yourself down, and Peter rested his head on your lap, lying on his side to still face the TV.
Peter fell asleep twenty minutes later. Your hand was in his hair, softly playing with his curls, and soon enough, the soft snores ensued.
You stayed there for several moments after the movie ended. It was easy to bypass the credits rolling on the screen, especially when Peter was right there. Head in your lap. An arm draped across your thighs. You could see yourself doing this every weekend with him–waking him up, getting to the bedroom, holding each other until the early morning.
It was stupid how much you loved him. He was your best friend throughout high school and college. He was with you through every smile and tear. It was just impossible for you not to harbor anything more than a friendship.
Once the title screen popped back on, you shook Peter awake. He hums groggily and opens his eyes. As he realizes that he fell asleep on your lap, he goes red in the face and sits up.
“I didn’t realize I was even tired,” He says, letting out a breathy laugh. “I’m sorry. I, uh, I gotta get home, though. We have an 8 am tomorrow.” Peter gets up from the couch and makes his way toward the door.
“Yeah, yeah,” You said, standing up and following him. “Goodnight. Be safe, love you,” You added, hugging him.
“‘Night (Y/N/N), love you, too,” Peter responded. He left, and you took that as your cue to get to sleep.
Your classes breezed by the next day. You and Peter’s 8 am class was spent reviewing material for tomorrow’s test, and your ten am consisted of you being a TA for your Spanish professor. She just had you look through papers while she taught about the subjunctive tense.
At your apartment, you texted MJ to ask what you should wear. She arrived twenty minutes later and immediately began searching through your closet. She explained that it was still casual since it was just a few friends, but your usual plain t-shirts and jeans weren’t going to cut it.
MJ picked a tight-fitting shirt with a v-neck. She said that it made you look insanely attractive, especially when paired with the (extremely short) denim shorts that you hardly ever wore.
You decided just to straighten your hair and do basic makeup. It consisted of only eyebrows, eyeliner, and mascara; it was a bit more than your daily makeup, but if you were going to a party, you didn’t want to mess it up.
After getting dinner, you and MJ went to her apartment and began setting up. There was a beer pong table, food set out on another table, and all of the alcohol she could afford on a third table. You put a playlist on her TV screen and then put the remote behind it. It was all said and done within an hour.
You turned on the strip lights right as Mark got there. He greeted his girlfriend with a short kiss, and then he came and hugged you. Mark was a sweet guy; he treated MJ right, and he was great at communication, plus he made an effort to be friends with her friends.
Ned showed up half an hour later, and Peter was right behind him. You already had three shots, but they hadn’t kicked in yet; it was probably for the best because all you could think when you saw him was damn.
He wore a dark grey v-neck shirt and dark denim jeans. He looked like he had just gotten out of the shower shortly before leaving, as his hair was still slightly damp. MJ had to hip check you to pull your attention back to the conversation.
“You need to tell him eventually,” She starts. “I mean, he totally has it bad for you, too.”
“Bullshit,” You sang. “He’s my best friend, besides you. That’s it.” You looked at the table and picked up the peppermint schnapps. “Another shot?”
“Using liquor as a negative coping mechanism. Same,” MJ nodded, smiling as she grabbed the shot glasses. “Competitive?”
“Bet,” You answered, pulling out a five from your pocket. She threw down an additional five and called Mark over to call it so that it wasn’t biased.
You both set the shot glasses on the counter and got ready. Mark slapped the table, and you and MJ threw the glasses back and slammed them back down. You won by a fraction of a second, making you throw your arms up.
“Didn’t think you were a drinker, (Y/L/N),” MJ laughed.
“I’m not,” You smirked. You grabbed the money and put it in your pocket, lining up another shot and downing that one too. “But distractions are distractions.”
“You really need a therapist,” Ned laughed.
Within an hour, you were blasted. Although you’d been slightly tipsy before, you’d never been full-on drunk before. MJ was right there with you, Mark was somewhat behind, and Ned was tipsy. Peter, who had slowly been sipping on his drink, was hardly beyond sober.
The five of you were playing Cards Against Humanity in the living room. MJ had the lead, but that didn’t shock anybody; she was declared the friend group’s funniest. You were near behind, though, which was shocking only because you’d thought Ned should be in your position.
It wasn’t like it mattered to you. All that mattered was that you and Peter sat next to each other, thighs pressed to one another, and his arm was resting on the couch cushions behind your head. If you thought that dealing with your emotions was hard when you were sober, then you were in a world of trouble when it came to you being drunk (and him being this close).
Gluttony was not your usual sin. Indulging in vices like drinking wasn’t typical of you. On any other day, you’d throw yourself into your studies, or maybe you’d be planning your study abroad that was coming up. But drinking? That was out of the ordinary.
Tonight was different. You wanted to let loose–to forget about your emotions. But that wasn’t happening, now was it?
After your game was up, you partied some more. You expected to forget about your emotions; instead, you found yourself forgetting how to care about preserving them. A few shots here, some dancing there, and you were more carefree than you had been in years.
Around three in the morning, you were tired. More than that, you had to be up at eight to get ready for your test at ten. You found yourself stumbling to get your things together so you could walk home, but Mark was trying to stop you.
“(Y/N), it’s past midnight in a college city, and you’re as drunk as a skunk. Just stay here,” Mark tried. MJ was right behind him and insisting that you at least call a taxi or an Uber.
“I’ll be fine,” You assured, nearly falling over as you slipped your shoes on. Peter, thankfully, catches and steadies you. He keeps an arm around your waist, which makes your already reddened face burn even hotter.
“I’ll take her home. I’m sober,” Peter says, looking at MJ. “Besides, we both have a test in seven hours–I need the sleep.”
“Drive safe, man,” Mark says, pulling Peter in for a hug. Peter gives MJ and Ned a hug, and then he’s by your side, leading you to his car.
It was a short and silent drive. Thank gods. You weren’t in any state to be talking to someone who you’ve harbored romantic feelings for.
Peter took you inside your apartment. The moment the door shut behind him, he locked it and got to your bedroom. He picked out some sleep shorts and an old shirt for you to sleep in, and he left you to change while he grabbed some water for you.
You sat in bed as he walked back into the room, setting the glass on your nightstand.
“You’re too nice,” You whined. “Aren’t guys supposed to be assholes or something?”
“I’m the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man–I’m not quite like most guys.” Peter smiles and lifts the covers, letting you get under them. Once you’re laid back, you take a sip of your water, and he closes the windows and curtains. He comes back to pull the blankets over your chest. Then, he starts to leave.
“Peter, can you stay the night here?” You asked. He turns to you and gives one of the softest smiles you’d ever seen (maybe it was just the rose-tinted glasses, or perhaps it was the staggering amount of alcohol in your blood). Nodding his head, he gets in on the other side of the bed.
Peter had stayed the night here plenty of times, but he always slept on the pull-out couch in the living room. He never once stayed in your bed with you also in it. You figured it was either out of concern for boundaries or respect.
The truth was, Peter was also head-over-heels for you. He’d told MJ, not that he needed to–MJ was good at reading people, and he certainly wasn’t subtle about his attraction for you.
You were the first person he came to when he became Spider-Man. You were his reason to fight after he got dusted (along with you). You were his favorite person to see after a mission–you’d been at the tower anytime Tony Stark told you that Peter was coming home. You were always there for him. You were it. You were the one that Peter wanted to be with, even if it didn’t work out in the long run.
Once Peter settled into the sheets, you rolled over and cuddled into him. Your head rested on his chest, an arm around his torso, and a leg tangled with his own. Both of you heaved a sigh of relief; this felt good. This felt right.
“Peter?” You asked.
“Yeah?” He responded.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“No, like, I love you,” You confessed, looking up at him through heavy eyelids. “Like, I wanna kiss you and cuddle you like this and hold your hand. I wanna tell people that I’m your girlfriend, and you’re my boyfriend.”
“Baby, you’re drunk.”
“I’ve been hiding this for years, Peter,” You insisted. “It isn’t because I’m drunk. The only thing this liquor is doing is helping me say what I want to say without worrying.”
“If I’m honest, (Y/N), I love you, too. In that same way. But you’re not even going to remember this in the morning.”
“Will you remind me?”
“Can I kiss you?”
“Not when you’re drunk.”
“Damn,” You sighed. “Did you set an alarm for the morning?”
“I already have one set,” Peter assured you. “Let’s get to sleep.”
“And Peter?” You called. “Thank you for taking care of me.” He hummed in response.
The next morning, you were shocked that you only had a small headache. You were even more surprised that you woke up next to Peter.
Last night was fuzzy for you. Bits and pieces were clear as day, like winning thirty bucks from MJ. But what happened? Was Peter as drunk as you were? Did you say something stupid? Why was he in your bed right now?
No matter the reason, you found yourself not wanting to leave this spot. You were the closest you’d been to Peter.
The alarm on Peter’s phone rang, making you jump. Then, you grabbed your aching head. Peter awoke with a start before looking down at you. He shut the ringtone off, and then he wrapped his arms tighter around you. His hand ran up and down your arm, which made you feel happy and warm, but why the hell was he holding you like this?
“Good morning,” Peter said groggily. His morning voice was hands-down, the most beautiful thing ever.
“‘Morning,” You responded.
“Want me to put some coffee on for that hangover?” He asked.
“I’m not that hungover, actually,” You answered. “I can go make some.”
Peter nodded his head, so you got up. Three scoops into the filter, some hot water, and a few minutes later, you both had cups of bitter coffee to wake you up. You both started to get ready for the day by brushing your teeth and putting on some new clothes (Peter had to find some clothes that he’d left here last month).
It was going to be a casual and laid-back day; that much was certain. Your body was aching, and your head only started to worsen even after taking some ibuprofen. There were still thirty minutes before you needed to leave for the campus, so you and Peter sat on the couch.
“Did I say anything stupid last night?” You asked, holding onto your mug.
“Only that you loved me and wanted to kiss me,” He smirked.
You groaned and threw your head back. “I’m sorry,” You started, looking him in the eye. “I shouldn’t have said that while I was drunk.”
“Did you not mean it?”
“Of course I meant it,” You said, laughing drily. “Peter, in the seven years we’ve known each other, I’ve felt like this for six of them. I just shouldn’t have told you while I was drunk.”
“Last night, I said that I loved you, too,” Peter said. “And then you asked if you could kiss me, but I wasn’t going to let you do anything in that state.”
“Oh,” You muttered, looking down in embarrassment and setting down your coffee. Peter’s lifted your chin and then cupped your face before leaning in and kissing you. The initial shock wore off quickly, and then you were kissing him back. It was soft and sweet–precisely what you’d have expected your first kiss with him to be like.
When Peter pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours. “You wanted me to remind you when you were sober. Was that okay?”
“More than,” You smiled. You closed the distance again, tangling your hands in his hair. Peter smiles against you.
After the test, Peter took you on your first official date as a couple. He held your hand and bought you a coffee, and you carried a conversation like everything was natural. Like everything was right.
(And, for the record, you passed that exam despite the light hangover).
Run-through: While on a mission, you’re stuck in an area of a building with your fellow Avenger, Bucky Barnes with whom you may or may not have a love/hate relationship. And while waiting for someone to come rescue you, you both find quite an interesting way to keep yourselves occupied.
Themes: language, dirty talk, smut
“Ah, fuck this shit!” you exclaimed, kicking the old, rusty metal door one last time before sitting down on the dusty ground, panting and leaning your back against the same door the was shut. You had been trying to get that door to open for the past 15 minutes, with no success. So you gave up, hoping that the team would be able to track you down and come and get you out of this stuffy room.
“You’re trying in vain, doll. Save your energy, trust me,” your mission partner said. And God knows how much you hated the sickly sweet tone he used on you.
“Funny you say that, Barnes. You’re not even trying to get us out of here,” you replied, sarcasm dripping from your words as you leaned your head back, closing your eyes as you were exhausted.
Summary: Someone needs to teach Steve Rogers that there’s more to life than just enforcing rules and fighting bad guys. You decide to take on that responsibility.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader
Word Count: 4,195
Warnings: Smut, NSFW, 18+ ONLY. This is just porn with plot yall
Little grunts left his mouth every time his wrapped fists came in contact with the stiff punching bag. The sound echoed in the mostly empty gym, traveling all the way across the floor to your eager ears. You were on the opposite side of the large room, against the wall, watching Steve’s back move and muscles flex under his way too tight shirt every time his hands connected with the bag. Sweat formed a dark spot over his shoulders and down his back, creating a sheen on his biceps that reflected into your eyes every time they flexed. God, he was a vision.
Am I wet? Am I on my period? Did I pee my pants?- next on wtf is going on down there.
I’m so glad this is a universal wondering among vagina-owners, haha.
Tune in next time for: Are these menstrual cramps? Am I pregnant? Is it just gas? I wouldn’t have to ask these questions if I didn’t have a damn uterus
Next week: Is it a bladder infection? An ovarian cyst? Do I have endometriosis? Oh God please do not let it be cervical cancer! A 20/20 special
Y'all are forgetting the all-time classic: Is it just my period or is my appendix about to burst? Some nice tea and a heatpack or 911 and emergency surgery?
There is actually a test for that last one!
Place your hand over the pain, press down slightly and release. If the pain doesn’t change by any great margin, you’re fine. If it suddenly becomes some painful you can barely stand, Get thee to an Emergency Room
reblog for the safety of vaginas and their owners
The appendix test works with or without a vagina so reblogging for everyone.
Reblogging because I didn’t know this and it needs to be shared.
↬ behind closed doors || bucky barnes
𝒂𝒃𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕: your assumption that your sweet, loving librarian boyfriend doesn’t have a darker side to him is quickly debunked after a couple of glasses of wine.
𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: librarian!bucky barnes x reader
𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 3,325 words
𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: heavy use of pet-names, slightly innocent!reader, inexperienced reader, sir kink, size kink, multiple orgasms, praise kink, overstimulation, blowjob, fingering, degradation (use of word stupid), spanking, soft face-fucking, choking kink, creampie, unprotected sex — 18+ only
𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: oh wow so it’s been a little while since i’ve written for librarian!bucky so bear with me! i know that i usually write him with a stutter (which i love and adore and will still do) but this is my take on a different librarian!bucky who acts shy and innocent until you’re behind closed doors. feedback is always appreciated!