Summary: Clint agrees to run into town for you. Word Count: 180 [tags under the cut] Warnings: Domestic fluff Author’s Note: We’re super excited about these drabbles and hope you enjoy them.
My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.
You were putting the finishing touches on a list of things Clint said he would run into town and get since you weren’t feeling up to doing anything that required you putting on a bra. No way. He had teased you about it, saying no one would notice since you would have worn your favorite oversized sweatshirt.
The weather had just started turning cooler; autumn was right around the corner, but you stood your ground. If Clint wanted a home cooked meal, he could buy the damn groceries himself. He had laughed at that, his head tossed back, those wrinkles next to his eyes showing deeper than before, hand over his chest.
Clint stood behind you, hands on the counter, his chin on your shoulder, caging you in. “Imma get popcorn, too.”
“That so?” you chuckle.
“It is,” he confirmed, waiting until you scribbled it onto the paper. As he smeared a kiss to your cheek, you tipped your head and pecked the air.
“I’ll be right back,” he said with a wink, swatting you on the ass before leaving.
Summary: You show Tony just how persuasive you can be. Word Count: 256 [tags under the cut] Warnings: Fluff Author’s Note: We’re super excited about these drabbles and hope you enjoy them.
My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.
Rolling over, you tried punching the pillow into submission, even though you knew it wouldn’t work. You couldn’t get comfortable, no matter how hard you had tried over the last two hours. Truth was, you not only hated sleeping alone, you couldn’t fall asleep without Tony. With a resigned huff, you kicked off the blankets and pulled on one of Tony’s shirts. The last thing you wanted was to stroll through the compound naked.
It didn’t take you long to find him. Tony was at the bar, nursing a glass of bourbon, the expensive one that Rhodey brought home on one of his tours. Tony sighed heavily and scraped a hand over the back of his neck, squeezing the knots that never seemed to go away.
“You’re up late,” you murmured, replacing his hand with yours, kissing his temple.
Tony hummed as he leaned into you. “Got a lot on my mind tonight, that’s all.”
You pushed your thumb into the knot, earning a deep groan of appreciation. “You want to talk about it?”
“Mmm-mmm,” he answered, his eyes drifting closed.
Dropping your lips to his ear, you rasped, “Come to bed. I’ll give you a massage, work out those knots.”
Tony turned his head, his beard scraping deliciously against your cheek. “That does sound tempting.”
“Babe,” you pleaded, your hand drifting down his arm, turning to fit into his hand, lacing your fingers together. “Come to bed with me.” Your lips brushed over the pulsepoint in his neck as you tugged him off the stool.
Summary: Being an adopted sibling to T’Challa and Shuri, the last thing you should be doing is falling for M’Baku, leader of the Jabari tribe. Too bad your heart wouldn’t listen. Word Count: 1,233 Warnings for Series: Fluff, smut, angst Author’s Note: This is my first time writing M’Baku. Please be gentle. This fic wouldn’t be possible without @captain-rogers-beard and @climbthatmooselikeatree, their support and assistance has been invaluable.
My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.
You gave up pounding on the door and screaming for help, for someone to hear your side of things. It was pointless, they weren’t going to let you out, not now, not ever. You had betrayed the only family you had ever known, and all because you had fallen in love.
Shoving away from the door, you scanned the room, searching for something, anything to help you escape, but there was nothing. You could not even break through the window. It was reinforced, something scientific that Shuri had come up with. While it had saved the lives of many during Killmonger’s rampage, there was a downside; it was equally as strong inside as it was on the outside.
You dropped to the bed and fell back, your head barely missing the wall. You raised your hand and gazed upon the band M’Baku had presented to you in his declaration. Apart, the strips were thin and delicate, but woven together, they were strong, almost unbreakable; much like your relationship with M’Baku. Without him you felt insignificant and weak, but together, side by side, you felt as if you could conquer the world. Together, your hearts beat as one. Together, you were complete.
“I do not like it either, mother,” T’Challa sighed. “However, it does not warrant locking her in her room.”
Ramonda clicked her tongue loudly. “She is a child, son. She does not know what is best.”
“Y/N is not a child,” he argued.
“She is not old enough to be making any sort of decisions about her future.”
T’Challa looked hard at his step-mother. “She is old enough.”
“It is M’Baku,” Ramonda huffed.
“The man who came to our aid,” he quickly reminded the queen.
It was not the first time T’Challa had seen her roll her eyes. “That changes nothing. Y/N is not to leave without an escort, and she is forbidden from seeing M’Baku.”
T’Challa waited until Ramonda’s hand was on the handle of the large door. “You have not accepted her into this family since the day father brought her home.”
“Losing a child is hard enough,” she sniffled. “Having a child brought into your home the very same night and being… forced to raise one that is not yours is even harder.”
T’Challa sighed heavily. “Mother, you cannot fault Y/N for any of that. She was just a child.”
“She still is,” the queen argued.
“If you did not care for her all these years, why does it bother you who she loves?”
Ramonda squared her shoulders and opened the doors. “She stays in her room.”
M’Baku waited for her, until dawn, but she did not come. She had never not shown up, not even the time she had fallen off a horse and hurt her leg. Without a second thought, he marched to the stables and mounted his steed, urging it forward with a shout.
The wind was bitter against his face at the speed with which the horse ran, but a little bit of pain and irritation did not bother him, not when there was something amiss with Y/N. He could not explain how he knew, he just felt it deep in his bones. Someone, something was keeping them apart, and he would not stand for it.
It did not take long to arrive at the palace. M’Baku jumped down and strode purposefully up he steps, through the front doors, and announced his arrival.
“My name is M’Baku, leader of the Jabari tribe, and I demand to speak with the king!” His booming voice carried down the halls
Only a handful of moments passed before T’Challa approached M’Baku.
“This way,” the king said, arm extended, showing M’Baku into an empty room.
Once they were in a room and the doors were closed, M’Baku explained his sudden arrival.
“I have asked Y/N for her hand in marriage.”
“So I have heard,” T’Challa murmured.
M’Baku’s brows knitted together. “She told you this? Is that why she did not come back? What have you done with her?!”
T’Challa held his hands up as M’Baku seemingly grew taller, wider, more menacing. “I have done nothing, I swear.”
“Then where is she?” he shouted, his shaking hands balled into fists at his sides.
“She is here, nothing has happened to her.”
It felt as if a weight was lifted from his shoulders. Y/N was safe. That was all that mattered. Well, almost all that mattered.
“I wish to see her,” he rasped. “I wish to marry her and take her home with me.”
T’Challa could see that M’Baku loved his sister very much, that the man standing before him would rather die than let any harm come to her. But he wanted to hear the words from the Jabari leader’s own mouth.
“Do you love my sister, M’Baku? Truly love her?” he asked.
“More than anyone could fathom,” M’Baku replied. “She is my entire world. I would die for her.”
That was enough for T’Challa. The depth of M’Baku’s love was obvious from the emotion spilling out of him. He would not sit back and allow his mother to interfere with that. Ramonda may have been the queen while T’Chaka reigned, but T’Challa sat upon the throne now.
“Come with me.”
The sound of the locks on your door disengaging woke you. Having slept fitfully for several hours, you felt groggy and disoriented. Whatever was happening felt like a dream. You’d been in and out of sleep for hours, replaying every moment of your life in the palace, desperately trying to find a reason why Ramonda would cause you such suffering. You knew it had been difficult for her, raising a stranger after losing her own child, and you’d always tried to be a peaceful, obedient child, never wanting to cause her any pain or sorrow. But you must have done something to upset her, to turn her against you. If only you could figure it out, you could apologize, make things right with the woman who had been your mother when no one else would have you. And then you heard a voice that cut through the fog. It was M’Baku, and he was at your bed, kneeling beside it, his hand on your face.
“My love,” he cooed.
“M’Baku?” you questioned as you pushed up to your elbow. “Am I dreaming?”
He chuckled low in his throat before answering. “As alluring as that sounds…” he trailed off as he helped you sit up, cupping your face in his hand. You choked on a sob and surged forward, planting a kiss to his full lips, wrapping your arms around his neck, not caring that your brother was standing there.
T’Challa cleared his throat. “That is my cue to leave. I will talk with the queen, sister. You and M’Baku will be married.”
Only after your brother had closed the door behind him did you push back from M’Baku’s arms.
“Did he say what I think he just said?”
With a smirk playing with his lips, M’Baku nodded. “Seems the king does not agree with the queen.”
You laughed at the imagery that rolled through your mind. “What do we do now?”
“We have a wedding to plan.” M’Baku stood and pulled your with him. He wrapped his arms around you, bent down as you pushed up to your feet, and kissed you fiercely.
Summary: You don’t know what you’d do if something happened to Steve. Word Count: 336 [tags under the cut] Warnings: Angst, fluff Author’s Note: We’re super excited about these drabbles and hope you enjoy them.
My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.
Your heart had dropped the moment contact with Steve was lost. This… it couldn’t be happening, you couldn’t lose Steve, not now, not when you just found him. It had been a whirlwind; almost dying, only to be saved by none other than Captain America. At first, you thought it might just be the Florence Nightingale Effect; falling in love with the person that saved your life. But as it turned out, Steve was falling for you, and fast.
The mission was supposed to be easy, simple smash and grab; kill all the bad guys, save the prisoner, but something went terribly wrong. The signal went dead ten minutes from the compound, and every second dragged by as if it were an hour.
It was smothering, the thick silence that surrounded you, whispering into your ear that Steve wasn’t going to make it, that he had died without hearing that you loved him. The cold tendrils of fear gripped your heart and squeezed, its ragged nails tearing into the muscle. And just when you thought you were going to fall to the floor, the door opened, and Steve walked… well, limped in.
With tears streaming down your face, you ran to him, colliding with him a long moment later, the pair of you grunting at the impact. You’re on your toes, kissing him frantically, your hands pressed against his back, nails gripping at the torn fabric of his dark suit.
Steve’s shoulders bowed as he curled around you, his hands on your face, wiping away the tears. He’s murmuring something between each kiss, something you can’t focus on right then, because it’s not important. What was important was that Steve wasn’t dead, he was there, with you, holding you close, heart pounding in time with yours.
When the calluses of his fingers scraped against your back, digging into the soft flesh as if he were trying to pull you into him, you broke down and sobbed, comforted only by the promises he whispered into your ear.
Title: Crack for Cats Summary: In an effort to win Thor over, Bucky buys him a cat toy. Word Count: 526 [tags under the cut] Warnings: Language, Thor is high on catnip Author’s Note: Y’all can thank @flamehairedwritings for these drabbles. I love you!
My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.
Thor was zooming around the apartment, his large paws slapping loudly against the floor. His ears were turned back and his tail was all puffy, resembling a feather duster.
With his eyes narrowed, Bucky sat on the edge of the counter and watched the feline, his own legs swinging back and forth, elbows on his thighs. If Thor ran any faster, Bucky had no doubt he would suffer from whiplash as he tried to keep track of the cat.
“You’re fuckin’ crazy,” he murmured.
Thor meowed loudly as he tore through the kitchen, collapsing on the floor in front of the couch a moment later. He pawed at the newly-purchased toy. As his claws snagged the material, he shoved his nose in it and sniffed rapidly, his whole body shuddering as he did. He rolled to his back and started kicking at the toy with his back legs, his front paws still holding the toy over his face.
Bucky moved to jump down, to grab his phone and call you. He must have made a noise because Thor jumped no less than five feet in the air, landed sloppily on his paws, and tore off once again. He would disappear down the hall and into the bedroom, knocking things to the floor, and scurrying out mere seconds later.
The cat slid to a stop in front of Bucky and stared up at him, eyes wide, pupils blown, a strip of gold surrounding them. They darted all around Bucky’s face, down to his arms, then his feet, his very bare feet.
“Don’t you do it, cat,” Bucky warned, his voice low and menacing.
That was when you came home. You let loose a screech when the door closed and Thor jumped up, turned around mid-air, and landed on his paws, his eyes drilling into yours. He bolted out of the kitchen and snagged his toy, rolling over to his side loudly.
“Whaaaaaaat is happening right now?” you asked warily.
“I don’t fuckin’ know,” Bucky muttered, shoving off the counter after you stood between his legs and kissed him warmly. “I thought I’d get him a toy, see if I could get on his good side.”
You watched the way Thor was behaving and shook your head. “Does it have catnip in it?”
“Just grabbed a toy from the shelf,” he answered.
Somehow, Thor didn’t notice when you walked over and pulled the toy away. He just laid there, panting, his tail flicking on the floor. You grabbed a pair of scissors, cut open the toy, and shook out a rather large bag of catnip.
“This,” you chuckled, holding the bag out for Bucky to see, “is like crack for cats.”
Bucky took it from you and sniffed it, making a face at the pungent odor. “It’s fuckin’ gross.”
Before either one of you knew what was happening, Thor was on the counter. He surged forward and plucked the bag from Bucky’s grip.
“No, Thor,” you cried, but it was too late. The bag was ripped open and there was catnip all over the floor. Thor rolled around on the flakes, chittering loudly as his eyes glazed over.
Summary: Clint finds a way to cut through the tension on Christmas. Word Count: 260 [tags under the cut] Warnings: Hectic Christmas, fluffy fluff Author’s Note: We’re super excited about these drabbles and hope you enjoy them.
My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.
The house was loud; Christmas music in the background, overrun by children, adults talking over the ruckus, several dogs chasing those rambunctious children in and out of the house, over and over again. Clint could see it in the tightness of your shoulders, it was almost too much; the constant noise, almost tripping over everyone and everything.
Thinking quickly, Clint snagged the mistletoe that was hanging by the front door, and snuck up behind you, holding it over your head. Several family members chuckled and pointed, which grabbed your attention. Seeing the mistletoe above your head, you shook your head and turned to face your husband.
Clint was smirking down at you, his eyebrow arched. “Ma’am, I think you owe me a kiss.”
“Is that so?” you sassed, your hands raising to rest on the collar of his very ugly Christmas sweater.
He dipped down and brushed his nose against yours. “It is.”
As his lips brushed against yours, you smiled and sighed happily. You never thought you could be this happy. Even surrounded by raucous children and pets, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. Clint went to pull back, but you weren’t ready for the kiss to end. You gripped onto the collar of his sweater and slanted your mouth over his.
Before anything could escalate, Clint wrapped an arm around your waist, lifted you easily, and walked around the corner, dropping the mistletoe along the way. There, the two of you away from prying eyes, with your back pressed against the wall, Clint returned your heated kiss.
Summary: Waking up with you in his arms, just to fall back asleep, is how Tony likes to start his day. Word Count: 161 [tags under the cut] Warnings: Fluff Author’s Note: We’re super excited about these drabbles and hope you enjoy them.
My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.
It was always several hours before the alarm clock went off that Tony started to stir. You were pressed against him, cheek on his chest, bare breasts against his side, arm draped over his stomach, bent at the elbow, hand resting just under his sternum. He never opened his eyes as he moved, couldn’t, it would defeat the purpose of sleeping.
You murmured nonsensically as he pressed his lips to your forehead, cheek, and nose. Once he was on his side, you returned his kisses. Yours landed sloppily on his neck and jaw while his lips continued to press into your hair.
Tony sighed heavily as the two of you tangled your legs together, your ankles hooking just inside of his. You nuzzled into his neck and breathed him in, your fingers sweeping along his back, his mimicking yours as the pair of you began to drift off once again.
Maybe today he would ignore the alarm when it went off.
Summary: After bumping into you on the street, Bucky asks you out on a date. Word Count: 386 [tags under the cut] Warnings: First date, fluff Author’s Note: Drabble is set before the war. We’re super excited about these drabbles and hope you enjoy them.
My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.
Bucky had been on plenty of first dates. Some people had given him a hard time about it, saying it’s time to get settled down, to stop dogging around. He was fine with that, settling down one day, but there was only one problem. He hadn’t met the right dame. Then, as luck might have it, Bucky literally bumped into Y/N outside the diner.
You weren’t sure you should accept the invitation from the chestnut-haired, blue-eyed man that had just knocked the breath from your lungs, but the truth was, times were hard and you were absolutely ravenous. Tucking some hair behind your ear, you accepted his offer, and blushed as he made a grand show of holding the door open.
After a delightful dinner, Bucky escorted you home, carrying your bag in one hand, his other brushing against yours as you walked. It was hard to describe, the fluttering feeling in his chest, the way your perfume wrapped around him like a cocoon, how your laughter was like music to his ears. Whatever it was, he never wanted that feeling to end.
“This is me,” you murmured, blushing as you pointed at the steps.
“Said I’d walk you to your door, doll. This ain’t it.”
When you shuffled your feet nervously, he added, “Just want to see you safe.”
Somehow, you knew he would never cause you harm. With Bucky close behind, you walked up the stairs and down the dimly-lit hall to your door.
“This is me,” you repeated with a giggle.
Bucky handed over your bag, which you set inside your door after unlocking it. He couldn’t help but smile when you didn’t duck in and bid him a good night.
“Thank you,” she said, looking at him through her long lashes. “For dinner and accompanying me home.”
He sidled up to the door and stood just inside it. “It was my pleasure.”
You swallowed at the closeness, struggling to keep the swarming butterflies locked away when his cologne surrounded you.
Bucky bent down and brushed his nose against yours, his mouth inches from yours, his eyes drilling into yours, watching for any sign that you didn’t want this as badly as he did. When you didn’t give such a sign, he held his breath and softly pressed his lips to yours.
Summary: While Bucky paints the apartment, Thor decides to have a little fun. Word Count: 554 [tags under the cut] Warnings: Tomfoolery by Thor, language Author’s Note: Y’all can thank @flamehairedwritings for these drabbles. I love you!
My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.
Bucky took a step back and stared at the wall he had just painted, searching for any spots where the paint was either too thin or too thick. He wasn’t sure about the color, but it was one that Y/N loved, said it made her happy. While it wasn’t exactly how he wanted to spend his time off, he couldn’t say no to that, could he?
After deciding that the one coat was good – for now, he tied his hair back, turned on an oscillating fan, and prepared the next wall for a coat of paint.
Thor sat on the counter, despite many objections by Bucky, and watched curiously as paint was applied to the walls. First one wall, then the next, one coat of paint, and another. By the time Bucky was done, the sun had started to dip low in the sky.
“What the -” Bucky groaned loudly. There were paw prints all over the hardwood floor, in Y/N’s favorite color, the paint seemingly mocking Bucky with its brightness.
The large cat was standing next to an overturned bucket, his front paw extended, hovering above the pool of paint.
“Don’t you fuckin’ do it,” Bucky warned. “I already have to clean up that fuckin’ mess.”
If cats could smirk and arch their eyebrow, Bucky would have sworn Thor did just that as he plunged his paw into the paint.
“God damn it,” Bucky snarled, throwing down the brush onto the tarp before lunging after the cat.
Thor tore off, sending drops of paint through the air, smearing paint on the floor with his paws as they slid, sending the usually graceful feline careening into the fridge. He righted himself with a loud meow and backed up into the cupboard.
Bucky couldn’t help but snort in laughter. “Come on, man. Take it easy. You got nowhere to go.”
Thor’s tail was twitching back and forth as his wide eyes scanned the room. He really didn’t have anywhere to go, but that didn’t stop him. He surged forward and slid between Bucky’s legs.
“Mother fuck,” Bucky growled as he spun on his heel. He watched in horror as Thor ran back to the tarp and tripped over one of the brushes, landing in the pool of paint with a heavy slap.
Bucky grabbed Thor by the scruff of his neck and hauled him out of the paint. “You’re lucky Y/N loves you so god damn much.”
You opened the door to find your boyfriend holding your cat by the scruff. They were glaring at each other, Bucky’s finger in Thor’s face and paint dripping from Thor’s long fur. Pulling the buds from your ears, you looked around the apartment with wide eyes.
When your eyes had completed their journey and landed back on the two men in your life, you had to laugh. Bucky had a streak of paint on his face and in his hair, and Thor, well, he looked like a drowned cat, only colorful. You shut the door behind you, kicked out of your shoes, and removed Thor from Bucky’s clutches.
“I’ll clean him up, you get the floor?” you cooed, batting your eyelashes as you pushed up to kiss the corner of his mouth.
He waited until you were in the bathroom before booming, “That cat’s a menace!”
Summary: Clint has a way of stealing your breath Word Count: 331 [tags under the cut] Warnings: Fluffing fluff Author’s Note: We’re super excited about these drabbles and hope you enjoy them.
My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.
There are many ways to take away someone’s breath. You could scare them, watch their eyes go wide and listen to the air rush from their lungs. There was also the option of causing physical harm, but only when absolutely necessary. Besides, that wasn’t really considered fun. One could surprise their loved one with their favorite meal or by putting a dent in the seemingly never-ending ‘honey do’ list.
As much fun as most of those were, kissing Y/N breathless was one of Clint’s favorite activities.
Knowing where to step to avoid being detected, Clint crept across the living room, around the table, and into the kitchen. Y/N was busy putting together school lunches for the kids. If there was such a thing as a perfect time, this was it.
He wrapped you in his arms and dipped you, smirking at the giggles that erupted from you.You gripped onto his forearms and shoulders, notching your thigh on his hip. He couldn’t wait, he had to kiss you. His mouth was on yours, a series of short pecks, smirking as he pulled the breath from your lungs.
Standing up, he held you to his chest, his hands on your face, fingertips tangled in your hair. It was like you were a drug and he wanted to get high. He kept kissing you; your lips, first the corners, then the top, then the bottom, making sure not to miss the crest of your full bottom lip, nor the cupid’s bow.
You were giggling with the little breath you had and pushing helplessly against his chest. “What’s… gotten… into… you?”
With his forehead against yours, he started to sway. “Nothin’. Just love you.” His lips were at work once more.
“I… I can’t…” she protested weakly.
Clint was gasping for air. “Me… too.”
With their chests heaving and the sharp intakes of air the only oxygen they needed, Clint continued kissing you until the kids literally crashed through the back door.
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