A/N: This is another Oneshot with Clara Barton! This is for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan ‘s Stars Playlist Challenge. My prompt was I Want You Back by *NSYNC
A/N: Hello hello! This is my entry for @bucky-at-bedtime’s writing challenge! My prompt was “Thank you for loving me when I still tasted of heartache and war.” and I decided to use it in the actual writing so it’s bolded below. I was in love with all of the prompts and have them bookmarked for future use. As always thanks for reading pals! You can ask for a tag or send in requests here and find my masterlist here. Thanks y’all!
You knew something was wrong the moment you walked into your apartment. Steve was home from his latest mission and usually, that meant an old jazz record and a kiss at the front door. Tonight, however, it was silent and Steve was nowhere to be found. You set your things down and kicked off your shoes before wandering through your home looking for him.
When you finally found him in your shared bedroom, your heart sank. He was sitting on the foot of the bed, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He was in just his boxers, his uniform left crumpled in the corner of the room. He was covered in grime and dried blood; your stomach turned at the thought of who it may have belonged to.
Summary: You have a bad day and a little too much to drink.
Characters: Eventual Bucky Barnes x female reader
Word Count: 1493
Warnings: drinking, throwing up,
Author’s Notes: The prequel to Fifty Shades of Bucky. Learn how and why you came to live at the Avengers Compound, along with how you and Bucky ended up together. I did tag my FSOB, Bucky, and Forever tags in this. If you are not interested in the prequel, let me know and I will remove you from future chapters.
***My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.***
Summary: After breaking her heart two years ago, Steve gives Y/N a visit. Word Count: 1,041 Warnings: Language, slight angst, fluff Author’s Note: Inspiration for this fic and GIF Credit [X]
My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.
Steve ran a hand through his hair as he paced back and forth in the parking lot, muttering to himself, trying to talk himself out of the hair-brained idea that had wormed its way into his brain.
“I shouldn’t be here,” he chastised himself. “She’s gettin’ married, you mook.”
Stupid. This whole thing was stupid. He needed to get back into the car and get out of town. Fast. Before anyone saw him. If only his feet would listen to him. Instead, they carried him back and forth, back and forth, repeating the process until Steve thought he was going to go crazy.
“What are you doin’?” Steve ground out, furious at himself for more than one reason.
The main reason he wanted to kick his own ass was breaking up with Y/N, the woman he loved more than anything in the entire world, and why? Because he wanted to keep her safe. Dating Captain America wasn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world. Hell, it painted a huge target on his back, and those of the ones he cared about the most.
He told himself – and Bucky – that he was doing it for her, that she would get hurt many times over if they were to stay together.
“Bunch’a fuckin’ bullshit,” Bucky hollered. “Ya love her, man. And you’d have to be blind to see that she doesn’t love ya back.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Steve lied, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Not that it would do him any good.
Bucky rolled his eyes so hard he was seeing stars. “You’re a goddamn idiot.”
“You ain’t wrong there.”
Stupid. God, he was so fucking stupid.
He broke her heart into pieces, her words exactly. He could still remember the way her voice cracked, the way her shoulders shook, the absolute anguish swimming in her eyes. She was absolutely broken and all he wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and tell her everything would be alright, that he would never break her heart, that he was a goddamn fool. But, it was too late, the words had been said, the damage had been done, and she had ran out of the room, tears streaming down her face.
Y/N left the Avengers that night, never to be seen from again. Or so Steve had thought.
Two years later, there was an engagement announcement in the paper. She was getting married to a man, a decent one, one that would treat her like a queen, just as she deserved.
So, why did it feel like someone stabbed Steve in the heart with a butcher knife, and why did he have the urge to punch Y/N’s fiance in the face? He was the one who ended things, it had been his choice, nobody else’s, his.
Steve blew out a heavy breath through his nose and squared his shoulders when the tell-tale sounds of the bridal march filtered through the air. The knot in his stomach travelled up into his throat. He couldn’t do it, break up the wedding of the woman he still loved. But, he could to the adult thing and attend the wedding, therefore showing his support for the happy couple.
He hurried across the parking lot and through the lush field just as Y/N got to the altar. Jesus, she looked amazing in the simple chiffon and lace dress, her hair curled and pulled back into a loose style, small white flowers decorated throughout. Before he could grab a seat in the back, she turned and spotted him, the wide smile she had been wearing slipping from her face. Steve gave a tight-lipped smile and took a seat, his nerves skyrocketing. He could do this, sit there and watch her get married to a man that wasn’t him.
“Dearly beloved,” the priest started. “We are gathered here to witness…”
The groom took Y/N’s hands in his and beamed at her as the priest went on, talking about the couple and how much they loved one another. All eyes – Steve’s included – remained glued to the about-to-be-happy newlyweds. However, Y/N’s kept darting to Steve, and everytime they did, Steve’s heart stuttered in his chest.
Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. He shouldn’t have come, she was clearly uncomfortable with him there. Stupid. When her eyes left his, Steve stood and made to make a quick getaway, but a voice made him stop dead in his tracks.
“I can’t do this,” Y/N lamented.
Steve turned around, shock coursing through him, as Y/N pulled her hands from the groom’s as if he had burned her.
“What are you talking about?” he asked her with a strained chuckle.
She licked her lips nervously and looked between the two men. “I’m sorry, Jeremy. I can’t marry you.”
“You can’t be serious,” Jeremy muttered. “Love, everyone is watching. Let’s talk about this after the ceremony.”
Everyone in the crowd was murmuring under their breath, the tone of scandal heavy on their tongues, eyes roving over Steve before flying back up to the altar. He swore he heard several, “That’s Captain America,” and, “What’s he doing here?” scattered throughout, but all he was focused on was Y/N.
Y/N leaned in and gave Jeremy a kiss on the cheek. “I don’t want to marry you,” she clarified, her voice definitive and strong. And then, she was running down the aisle, her dress in her hands so she didn’t trip, all but sliding to a stop in front of Steve.
Steve gave a huff out of his nose before doing the one thing he’d been dreaming of for the last two years, he kissed her fiercely, curling a hand on the back of her neck. When they parted, she peered up at him through her lashes, her lips perfectly swollen, her cheeks tinted pink.
“Are you sure?” he breathed, heart hammering in his chest.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Y/N confirmed, her hand resting over his heart. “It’s you, Steve. It’s always been you.”
Steve grabbed her hand and gave her a wink before the two of them took off, running to the car as if their lives depended on it.
Warnings: heavy angst, additional spoilers in the tags
Author’s Notes: Inspired by the books/movies in the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy. I do use the books/movies as a reference, so some dialogue, etc, may sneak in. If you have an issue with this, please message me. NSFW gif under the cut.
***My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.***
FIRST of all, Mimi, I love you, so much. This entire series has been a rollercoaster of emotion, and I have enjoyed every dip and twist and turn. But this… this has broken me in the best possible way. It’s so beautiful and heartbreaking. Brava, my dear.
The scent woke her first, tickling her senses enough to see Cassidy rousing from the weird dream of a black slicked body, the substance moving like oil in a strangely beautiful way over the man it was part of. Bacon. She smiled to herself, wondering if her dad was cooking breakfast when the reality of her life came crashing down on her.
Her parents were dead. Her sister and brother were both dead. The pillow beneath her head wasn’t her own, and she had no idea where she was.
“Eddie, she wakes.”
The voice brought terror screaming through her veins, and Cassidy sat up with a jolt that made her grunt, wince, and grab for her side only to notice the clothes she wore weren’t hers.
“Hey. Morning.”
Cassidy looked up to find the man from last night standing in the doorway. He hunched a little, as if waiting for a blow or reprimand, and fiddled with his fingers.
“I, uh, we had to change your clothes. You bled right through your shirt and pants. There’s a bullet wound in your side, more a nick really, glancing blow, but the one in your hip looked like shrapnel from a ricochet. Venom says he got it all out and did what he could to fix it, but you’re not compatible so he couldn’t heal you all the way.”
She blinked, unable to fully comprehend someone who talked that fast.
Summary: While out for a walk, the weather turns on you, making you worry that you won’t make it back to Clint. Word Count: 2,955 [sorry, not sorry] Warnings: Language, hypothermia, explicit sexual content Author’s Note: For
@captain-rogers-beardFall Into Marvel Challenge. My prompt was: Renting a Cabin. GIF found on Google Images without a source. And trust me, I checked the watermark, went through five of their url changes, and then when I did find them, I looked through their Jeremy Renner tags for over an hour.
My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.
You didn’t know what had possessed you to go for a walk. Alone. In the middle of winter. On property that you had no knowledge of. But there you were, miles from the cabin, trudging through three inches of snow as fat and heavy flakes fell from the sky. It felt like you were trapped in a snow globe, flakes swirling around your head, obstructing your vision, nothing as far as the eye could see.
When you left the cabin you and your friend, Clint were sharing – more on that later – the ground had been bone dry. There wasn’t even snow on the radar. In fact, the weatherman had announced that the week would be, “Unseasonably warm, topping off at a balmy forty-five, maybe even seeing fifty in some areas.” Which, for northern Minnesota, was damn near a heatwave in early December, so you hadn’t thought twice about wearing a cotton t-shirt, hooded sweatshirt, jeans, thick socks, and a pair of hiking boots for your walk.
The sun had been high in the sky as you went on your way, cellphone in your back pocket, canvas jacket wrapped around your waist, and your hair pulled into a high knot. Being completely surrounded by nature, it didn’t take long for everything that had to do with being an Avenger disappeared from your mind. Well, not everything.
Ever since joining the Avengers two years ago, Clint had taken you under his wing, all pun intended. Like him – along with Tony and Rhodey, you weren’t enhanced in any way. You could die at any given moment, whether you were severely injured on a mission or taken a nasty fall. There was no serum running through your veins, you hadn’t enlisted in a spy agency that played around with your biology, you hadn’t been exposed to an insane amount of radiation, and you sure as hell weren’t a god. For all intents and purposes, you were human.
The two of you clicked straight away, forming a bond that was like any other than you’d experienced before. He was more than a friend, than a best friend. Clint Barton was like finding a part of yourself you hadn’t known was missing. Sort of like a soulmate without anything romantic. Though, if you were being honest, you wouldn’t mind exploring that aspect. But the last thing you wanted to do was ruin anything by doing something stupid such as kissing him or admitting that you harbored certain feelings for the man.
So, why were you and he sharing a secluded cabin in the middle of nowhere? It had originally been Tony’s idea, taking an overdue vacation from the real world for a full week. The entire team was set to head out the other day. Bags were packed and out of office notifications had been sent, but then Fury got wind of a possible catastrophic event that might be taking place in Tokyo.
You had already been feeling under the weather, so naturally, Fury didn’t want you to go. Tony suggested you take the time to rest and use one of the cabins.
“It’s already paid for, Y/N,” he informed you.
“But I’ll be all alone,” you unintentionally whined.
Clint stepped forward. “I can hang back. I mean, if that’s alright with Fury.”
Fury answered with a nod of his head and a sigh. “That’s fine, Barton. We’ve got more than enough fire power already.”
Not exactly what you had in mind, but who were you to say no to spending a week with Clint.
It had been three days of doing absolutely nothing – lounging around on the couch, reading those books you hadn’t had time for, playing cards with Clint – and you had been having a great time. That was until after lunch when Clint had emerged from the bathroom with only a towel around his waist, his damp hair sticking up in every direction, and water dripping down his chest and stomach. The sight had made your heart stutter and your mouth go dry. Half an hour later you were outside, going for a much needed walk.
A sudden chill ripped you from your thoughts. The sun had completely disappeared behind layers of gray clouds. Shit. How long had you been walking and when the hell had it started snowing? With your teeth chattering, you pushed the flakes from your hair, pulled up the hood of your sweatshirt, and quickly put on the jacket. After fishing the phone from your pocket, you saw that you had been gone for almost three hours, which meant it would take you that long to get back to the cabin. Double shit.
Turning around, you started trudging back, taking notice of how much snow had fallen while you hadn’t been paying attention. There was at least three inches of the white stuff, and the flakes falling around you were big and heavy. You shoved your hands into the pockets of your jacket and quickened your pace. The cool air stung your face and made your lungs ache. The wind you were walking into burned your eyes and pushed the snow into the hood and down the back of your neck.
You had the phone out again and went to call Clint, but the complete lack of bars made you groan. Knowing Clint, he was probably worried about the amount of time you’d been gone. Add in the heavy snowfall and you could imagine him wearing through the floor with the amount of pacing he’d be doing.
Despite not having a signal, you tried calling him anyway. As expected, the call didn’t go through. Instead of ringing, a borderline ear piercing set of tones went off, making you wince. Gritting your teeth, you shoved the phone into your pocket and kept walking briskly, mentally berating yourself for losing track of time, and hissing, “Goddamn you, Mother Nature.”
Two hours later, your entire body was shaking, your clothes were soaked, your exposed skin was burning, and you couldn’t feel your toes. To make matters worse, you hadn’t seen a previously exposed root and tripped over it, landing in water that stole your breath.
“Fuck,” you rasped, your teeth chattering loudly.
You pushed up and out of the water, continuing down the path, barely able to walk and see. Exhaustion washed over you like a blanket, tempting you, beckoning you to give up and lie down, to fall asleep, rest for a little while. Holding onto the hope that the cabin wasn’t too much farther, you kept going.
After what felt like eternity, the warm glow of the outside lights of the cabin greeted you. You let out a grateful sob and, with legs that felt like lead, you hurried toward the building. Just as your hand was about to close around the knob, the door flung open, revealing a very worried Clint.
“Fucking hell, Y/N,” he exhaled. He gripped your arm and hauled you inside, kicking the door closed behind him. “I’ve been calling for hours.”
“No signal,” you stammered, chin quaking, teeth chattering loudly.
Clint pulled you over to the fire and instructed you to take off your clothes while he threw several more logs onto the flames. He rushed out of the room, muttering under his breath as your numb fingers struggled with completing the normally simple task. By the time Clint came back, blankets and pillows in his arms and a towel in his hand, you had only managed to remove your jacket. He made quick work of making a nest out of the blankets in front of the fire before standing in front of you.
“Here, let me,” he offered gently, his hands already on the hem of the drenched sweatshirt.
If you could have nodded, you would have, but all you could do was – barely – stand there, every inch of you in freezing agony as Clint removed one item of clothing at a time. He worked as quick as he could, worry swirling in his eyes, creases surrounding his mouth as he smiled gently.
When it came time to remove your bra and panties, Clint turned around, allowing you some sort of privacy. Once the items were on the floor, you grabbed the towel from his grip and wrapped it around yourself.
“Go lie down,” he instructed, reaching behind his head to pull off his shirt. “When you’re comfortable, take off the towel.”
“What are you doing?” you wondered as you dropped to the heated blankets with little grace.
Clint pushed down his pants and stepped out of them, padding over in only his boxer briefs. “You’ve got hypothermia,” he informed you. “You need skin-to-skin contact.”
“Are… are you kidding?” After making sure you were completely covered, you pulled out the towel and set it in front of the fire.
“Definitely not,” was his clipped answer. He dropped down next to you and slid between the blankets, holding his arm out once his head was on the pillow.
You moved to roll over, to press your back against his chest, but Clint shook his head. “Chest-to-chest,” he explained.
With your heart pummeling your chests, you stared at him hard for several moments before moving, only doing so when he murmured, “Come on, Y/N. You’re literally freezing.”
After pulling in a deep and shuddering breath, you closed your eyes and pressed your naked and icy body against him. His body went rigid and he couldn’t bite back the, “Holy shit,” that burst out of him.
“Sorry,” you gasped, the warmth of his skin feeling like heaven against yours.
Clint wrapped his arms around you and held you close, pulling in short and rapid breaths as his body heat seeped into you. The fire at your back snapped and crackled, drying your hair and adding more heat than you could have handled if you hadn’t spent three hours in the snow wearing only a hoodie, jacket, and jeans.
You weren’t sure how long the two of you laid there, your cheek on his chest, one of his hands on the back of your head, his blunt nails dragging along your scalp, your legs intertwined, but you found yourself wishing you never had to leave.
His lips smeared across your forehead and his heart stuttered against your cheek when he admitted, “I was so damn worried.”
Guilt surged through you at that. “I’m sorry,” you moaned. “I lost track of time.”
“Hey, it’s alright,” Clint assured you, his lips still against your forehead. “You’re safe now. That’s all that matters.”
You wrapped an arm around him and tried pushing yourself even closer, pulling in a deep breath that was all Clint; spice and the subtle hint of leather, but most of all, he smelled like the outdoors on a sunny day. With a sigh you hadn’t meant to exhale, you turned your face into his neck and smelled him some more.
“Y/N,” Clint hummed, the pulse in his neck throbbing against your nose, his fingers tightening against your back and in your hair. “What’re you doing?”
“Getting warm,” was your breathy answer. “Should I stop?”
You weren’t sure where your courage was coming from. Maybe it was the fact you could have died without letting Clint know how you felt, or maybe it was because he was so thick and solid, and he felt so goddamn good pressed against you. Either way, lust was slithering down your spine and settling heatedly between your legs.
A low and heavy moan spilled out from Clint as you drug your fingers up his side and chest, to the back of his neck where your nails met his scalp. He hadn’t answered your question, not verbally, at least. However, you could feel just how much he didn’t want you to stop.
With your hand on the back of his neck, you met his lust-filled gaze. “Do you want me to stop?”
“Do you want to stop?” Clint shot back, your chin between his thumb and forefinger.
You pulled your leg from his and draped it over his hip, flexing your thigh under his hand. “Absolutely not,” you admitted after years of keeping your crush a secret.
“Thank God,” he huffed before kissing you fiercely, and goddamn, did it take your breath away.
Without breaking the kiss, Clint rolled you to your back and settled between your legs. He kissed you senseless, until you couldn’t breathe, until your back was arching, desperately wanting him to touch you. He left a trail of dark marks down the side of your neck before biting into the plump flesh of your breasts.
You let out a gasp that turned into a moan as his hot mouth covered your areola, as he used his tongue and teeth to harden your nipple, his hand cradling and massaging your other breast. Clint chuckled low in the back of his throat when your hips rolled, desperate for some friction when he licked his way to your other breast, tugging on the nipple with his teeth before rolling it around with his tongue.
The stubble that dusted his chin and cheeks burned your skin, and you wanted to feel more of it, so you grabbed the back of his head and began urging him down your body. Clint happily obliged, pulling in a deep breath as he buried his nose into your hip. You moaned almost embarrassingly loud as he drug his fingers through your wet folds, pressing one digit, and then another, into your slick channel.
He swirled his tongue around your clit, pulled it between his teeth, and sucked hard as he pumped his fingers, crooking them just right so they brushed over the spot that would send you reeling. And he succeeded. Fucking you with his fingers and tongue, you came apart at the seams, crying out his name and writhing on the blankets.
Sitting back, Clint wiped your slick from his chin and mouth with the back of one hand while stroking himself with the other, spreading your cum on his cock. You grabbed his shoulders as he crawled up your body, and kissed him fiercely, moaning at the taste of yourself on his tongue.
Clint covered your body with his, settling his thick weight between your thighs. Your legs curved around his waist as he touched you, seemingly everywhere and nowhere at the same time. His greedy touch was rough, like he wanted all of you, all to himself. Finally, he pushed into you, pulling a throaty gasp from you at the stretch of skin and tissue around his thick cock. Clint’s teeth sank into his bottom lip and came dangerously close to splitting the skin as he watched himself sink into you.
When he was buried to the root, he blew out a ragged breath and praised your body with his hands, his lips, his words. “Fuck,Y/N,” he rasped. “Feels like you were made for me.”
You could only nod, your eyes tearing up as he tipped his hips forward a little bit, as white-hot euphoria surged through you. He did it again, obviously enjoying the reaction he got when he dragged his cock against your sweet spot.
“Harder, Clint,” you breathed, fingers digging into the small of his back. “I ain’t gonna break.” You pulsed around him, a sinful moan filling the small space between you.
Clint slid a hand under your arching back, callouses scraping over your skin, blunt nails catching on your shoulder blades before his fingers gripped your shoulder. “Your wish is my command,” he growled before driving into you, pushing the air from your lungs in the form of an appreciative grunt.
His head dropped against your shoulder when you rolled your hips, and again when your body rose to meet his. It was as if your body was an instrument, and he knew all the ways to play you, to make you sing his favorite song, building you up to the bridge, to the shattering point.
You came with a strangled cry, thighs shaking, head pushed into the pillow, liquid fire bubbling beneath your skin. Clint followed three deep thrusts later, teeth digging into your shoulder, shoulders bowed, hot air blasting out his nose, sweat dripping from his forehead.
With your body still thrumming and aftershocks rolling through you, Clint rolled to his back. The pair of you laid there, hearts hammering, gasping for air. You rolled to your side, perched on your elbow, and watched Clint; the way his lips pursed and relaxed with each breath, how the crackling fire shone of his sweat-slicked skin, how the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth seemed more pronounced.
“You know, if you wanted to get me into bed, all you had to do was ask,” Clint teased you, peering at you from the corner of his eye, his breathing ragged.
“You make it sound so easy,” you murmured, not trusting your voice.
Clint rolled to his side, mirroring you, and tucked some hair behind your ear. “Darlin’, I’ve wanted this, you and me, for a long time.”
“Wh- what?”
“Since the first time I saw you, actually,” he clarified.
The corners of your lips pulled into a lazy smile. “Me, too. I was just too scared that if I said anything, I’d ruin the friendship, and that was the last thing I wanted to go.”
“Same here. God, what a pair we are, huh?” Clint leaned in and kissed you sweetly.
When you slanted your mouth over his and deepened the kiss, your hand curled around the back of his neck, he let out a groan of surprise.
“We’ve got lots of time to make up for,” you informed him. “Besides, I could sure use some more warming up.”
Characters: Bucky Barnes x female reader, Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Helen Cho
Word Count: 2216
Warnings: canon divergent, heavy angst, mentions of surgery, mentions of use of guns, canon typical violence
Author’s Notes: Inspired by the books/movies in the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy. I do use the books/movies as a reference, so some dialogue, etc, may sneak in. If you have an issue with this, please message me. Thank you @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan for your help, as always.
***My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.***
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