Invisible String (Series) - Bucky Barnes x female reader
James Buchanan Barnes, the owner of the most expensive-looking club in town and your new apartment. He was a dick and you hated him. What could possibly go wrong when you, the new girl in town, start bartending at his club to pursue your dreams?
August (Mini-series) - Steve Rogers x female reader , Bucky Barnes x female reader
So much for summer love, and saying "Us"
'Cause you weren't mine to lose
You weren't mine to lose
Parasitoid (One-shot) - Dark!Andy Barber x female reader (18+)
A parasitoid is an organism that lives in close association with its host at the host's expense, eventually resulting in the death of the host.
For Your Eyes Only (Series) - Natasha Romanoff x female reader
Natasha would do anything for the person she loved the most. All you had to do was say the word.
Run (One-shot) - Maya Lopez x female reader
Maya asks you to run away with her.
Wounded (One-shot) - Maya Lopez x female reader
Maya comes home injured.
The Arrangement (Series) - Carol Danvers x female reader
After a one-night stand, you find yourself shaking hands with the devil herself.
Crawlin’ back to you (Drabble) - Peacemaker x female reader
White Americans will fight tooth and nail to protect their right to instantly shoot someone with a gun for entering their home illegally but as soon as it's a marginalised Muslim community fighting back against settlers to decolonise land that was seized illegally, suddenly violence isn't the answer. Get a grip
Pairing: Carol Danvers x Female reader (Modern AU)
Word Count: 1.2k words
Warning: mob au, Carol is lowkey dark, more like soft dark
It wasn't technically hard to find you or everything about you. In fact, it was quite easy. After two phone calls, Carol knew it all—from your favorite restaurant to your favorite Pringles flavor. Well, the latter took more than a few phone calls, but surely, you wouldn't know that she had men tailing you wherever you went.
There was also another thing among the list of things you didn't know, Carol paid a visit to your ex-boss - the one that fired you—for a conversation and with a price that made him call you back and hire you.
And when you received a call from your old boss to rehire you, you were more than surprised—somewhat shocked even. It was so unlikely that it made you doubt it, but then you shrugged it off as your good luck and happily accepted your source of income back. There was also a raise in your salary—not enough that it would seem suspicious, but enough that it seemed odd. When you questioned it, your superior brushed it off as an apology and said everyone was getting a raise. So again, you overlooked these things and by the next Monday, you were back at the school.
Going back to work was just about the same, but you started having this weird feeling that someone was around you—following you. You felt the same way when you packed your stuff from the classroom and now as you reached your apartment. Initially, you assumed it was a kid playing pranks or a parent waiting around to talk to you, but the feeling still retained after almost a week. You weren't confrontational at all. And even if you were, you wouldn’t dare to think anything of this paranoia because it has been just that—you were being paranoid. It was not real.
As you made your way towards work the next day, you noticed a car—a very familiar one. Instantly, you remembered it from that night—you recalled how Carol whispered dirty thoughts in your ear as her hands explored your body in that same car. The mere thought of that night was enough to run a shiver down your spine and instinctively, you clenched your thighs together as the memories of that night came rushing back.
It couldn't be her. Why would she even come back? The only logical reason for why she would return was to end you. You knew something about her identity that would jeopardize her freedom. So if she were back, it would have to be to kill you. You immediately shoved that thought aside, ignoring the fear that was blooming in your stomach now. Tons of people have that sort of car, you reasoned.
You collected yourself and made your way inside the school. The rest of the day went by as usual. And when the day ended, you plugged your AirPods in and started collecting your stuff—packing for the day. Placing your laptop in the bag, the answer sheets you needed to mark were safely put in your drawer when you felt hands around your waist. Before you could react, The person pulled your body closer to theirs as they peppered your neck with kisses.
“God, baby. I missed you,” the person, Carol—you could recognize her voice anywhere—murmured as her mouth made its way towards your jaw, showering more kisses there.
“Carol,” you took hold of her hands as you tried to pry her away from you and once that happened, you turned to look at her. She looked the same—it was dumb to think about because it had only been a few weeks since you last saw her. People don't change drastically in a short period. But you noticed that under the light of the sun, she was more gorgeous during the day. “What are you doing here?” you inquired, looking around for people like you were a high schooler meeting somebody you weren't supposed to be with.
You gasped in surprise when she ignored your pondering and landed her mouth on yours, taking the opportunity to invade your mouth with her tongue while her fingers started unbuttoning your blouse. This time, you shoved her off not so gently, “What the fuck are you doing here? This is my workplace,” you raised your hand in an exasperated manner, “There are children out there for god's sake.”
Your temper did not seem to rub off on her as she smiled slyly and took your hands in her as she suggested, “Tonight, then? My place.”
“No.”
“No?” She looked taken aback, letting go of your hands as if she finally understood and took the hint. But the look on her face stung you. It made you feel like shit for disappointing her. You remembered how proud she looked when you did as she pleased, and it made you feel really good, so to see her disappointed in your answer—in you—had you leaning towards her and apologizing.
“I’m sorry. I just have a lot going on,” you explained, “I don't even have my own roof over my head and I just got my job back and money is tight-”
“I will pay you.”
“What?” you scoffed, offended by the suggestion.
“I can pay for you,” she insinuated each word slowly, and before you could open your mouth to reject or argue, she spoke again. “It won’t be like a debt and you can return the favor in a different form.”
You folded your arm around your chest, “And what form would that be?"
“ Well," she suggested, "Think of it as a mutually beneficial arrangement. You live with me in my house and enjoy the luxuries and easier life with no struggle for money. And I—well, I get you.”
“Does this mutually beneficial arrangement of yours,” you queried, quoting the term in the air. “Gives me the liberty to say no.”
Carol looked at you with a clear offense on her face. She wasn't going to force you. It was true that she wanted you in more ways than she could comprehend, but she desired you to want her—beg for her—cum for her and eventually, fall for her. And all she needed to do to get you to play by her rules was a little persuasion, and she only intended to do that. “Of course, angel. Everything that happens between us will be consensual.”
At your hesitation, Carol spoke again. “I can get it documented that would protect us and we can sign it. That would make you feel sure and safe. And you can end it anytime you want. No strings attached.” She looked at you expectantly, waiting—and when you didn't speak she added, “Do we have an arrangement?”
You were hesitant and scared. You liked to think that you had some sort of control over your life, and you wouldn't give things like money more importance than your values. But on the other hand, her offer did seem tempting—you wouldn't have to sleep on your friend’s sofa anymore and in your head, you were winning both ways because you would get all the fancy stuff you've always wanted- and mostly you would get Carol. You didn’t know what her offer encompassed of, but you would be lying to yourself, if you said you weren’t intrigued by it. So, without thinking further, you nodded, “Yes, we do.”
I just wanted to let you know that I’ve reread The Arrangement more times than I can count. Your writing is fucking amazing, I hope you never stop writing ♥️
Aw thank you so much!!!!!! I know I sorta vanished for a really long time (I was just not in a v good place). But I do plan on getting back to writing. It might take me a while but I am working on the arrangement's next chapter.
Pairing: Darkish Peacemaker x reader, Christopher Smith x reader
Description: Porn without plot. Peacemaker fucks - that is the plot. Just a smutty drabble I wrote to get out of this writing slump.
Word count: 655 words
Warning: 18+, Peacemaker being a shit dude, some ass play, this takes place after ep 1.
Chris didn't know what it was. It definitely wasn't a woman, the creature was well, confusing. And when Chris sat on the road with his beloved Eagly beside him, he realized he was hard. Very hard. After months of being in a hospital bed - his body mistook the adrenaline from the fight for an erection. He needed relief - fast.
And so he went back to the bar where he followed Harcourt and met that woman or whatever the dead creature was. He was a bit careful this time - he wasn't looking for just a woman this time. He wanted to make sure that the woman he would go home with was indeed human. As he looked around the almost empty place, his eyes landed on you. And that was how he found you - sitting alone in the corner.
Stretching and shrugging his shoulders in preparation, he made his way toward you and took a seat in front of you. Chris had always been a cocky bastard, and when others pointed out his toxicity, he always shrugged it as his confidence and their insecurity. Because who wouldn’t want him, right?
You sighed, suppressing an eye roll as you schooled your glass, ignoring the bulky white man sitting across you. You were really not in the mood for whatever bullshit this guy was going to offer.
“Hey, I -”
You spoke, cutting off his introduction. Yes, you came to this stupid place to get laid - but after being catcalled by multiple men - your aim shifted to finishing the drink and just going home to call it a day. “You know, usually when people sit alone, they wanna be just left alone.”
You looked up at him, gazing into his eyes as you delegated. “Can you go?” You arched a brow and raised your hand pointing away from the table indicating him to leave. God, you wished he would leave without creating a scene.
“Thank you!” you chirped delightedly as he stood up because you honestly didn't think he would listen. But soon your expression changed when he turned around again.
⁓⁓⁓
“Thank you!” you moaned as Chris bounced you on his cock - his hands holding your hips so tightly that you were sure it would scar for days but you were too out of it to even notice - on the verge of your third orgasm.
“Hmm yes,” He hummed, “You're such a good girl. Letting me fuck you and so grateful.”
Chris complimented, but you were out of it to even comprehend that he was saying something, one of his hands leaving your hip to squeeze your breast in his palm - his finger pinching your nipple as he pulled your straddled body downwards with your bud and placed his mouth on your ignored breast - sucking harshly. The hand on your hip loosened as his thumb gently rubbed over your untouched puckered hole.
You hissed as his finger made its way inside your empty hole without any warning, your cunt clenching his dick like a glove and he groaned against your chest. You came. Four times, you think. And after the fifth orgasm, you were squirting, and as you opened your mouth to plead with him to stop - Chris immediately sensed this and freed his hand from your breast to insert two fingers inside your mouth and silence your cries of pleasure. You were thankful for his fingers because the sound that would have come out of you would have been so desperate. You were desperate and all you wanted was more of him. Or were you going to beg him to stop? You couldn’t remember. All you could feel was Chris and how he played with your body like you were his favorite instrument.
That night, the only sound that could be heard in the room were your moans as he fucked your quivering holes and of course, your gratitude as you whispered thank yous over and over again.
I was really excited to read this fic and I literally ignored updates and waited months for the writer to finish it so I could finally binge read it but the first chapter had some line like - "you turned so red." And immediately I was like UGH I waited so long for this? What even is the point in putting your fics under x reader tag if that shit ain't inclusive? Just put x white reader.
Pairing: Carol Danvers x Female reader (Modern AU)
Word Count: 1.4k words
Warning: mob au, canon sambucky, carol is dangerous, some sexual themes, Carol is lowkey dark, more like soft dark, no use of y/n
By the time Carol woke up, you were already gone. Usually, a single voice was enough to disturb her slumber, but when last night she returned after the hit to find you peacefully sleeping in her bed, Carol smiled. You looked so in place — like you belonged in her bed. And when the bed dipped under her weight, you exhaled, scowling a bit at the disturbance. Carol's arm found its way around your form — not only did you lean into her, but you also relaxed in her hold. A satisfied sigh left your lips by the comfort she provided. Carol couldn't believe it — she had just killed a man — an innocent man even, and you held her like you trusted her with your life — as if her hands around you weren't capable of hurting a soul. Maybe you did, or maybe you were just asleep. But for one night, Carol let herself imagine. She imagined a life with you — coming home to you — going on dates with you — sleeping with you night after night as you held her just like you held her now.
It wasn't a surprise that you were no show when she woke up. It wasn't her first time bringing a woman back to her place. Usually, it was her pushing them out, but this was different — with you, she let her guard down it wasn’t just fucking with you — it was so much stronger and deeper than that. She sighed as she rolled over to your side, inhaling quietly to feel the remnants of your fragrance on the bed. She could still feel you there, and she felt like a loser because she found comfort in a vacant space.
Groaning, Carol stood up and started to get ready for the day. After a cold shower where her hand roamed to her cunt a few times as she thought about you and the pretty noises you made, Carol made her way to the bedroom to collect her watch from the side table, and that's when she saw it. A note.
She prayed to whatever superior power existed that the note was from you —your number, maybe. God, what she would give to have you in her arms again. She didn't just want you in her bed, she wanted you in her life. If she could meet you again — this time, she would do it the proper way. Carol would take you out for a nice dinner, get to know you and then bring you back to her place. But that was all just wistful thinking.
When she opened the note, she was met with the words she had said to you the previous night. Your handwriting mimicking her words.
“Who would keep your secret better than a stranger?”
You signed your name, and Carol felt her heart crack a little. She was disappointed. Honestly, you going to the cops were the least of her concerns. She knew you wouldn't rat her out. She trusted you — more than you could trust a stranger you meet in a bar. Of course, some part of her mind was scared that you would tell someone, but she was sure she could handle that.
As her day went by, her thoughts never stopped wandering to you. She busied herself with work and meetings until there was no time to think of you.
***
“It was a pleasure doing business with you,” Sam Wilson shook hands with Carol as his husband nodded at her thankfully.
“We're going to this new club downtown to celebrate our win against Rumlow - thanks to you. Would you like to join us?”
In hopes of staying distracted, so she wouldn't think of you, Carol agreed.
The club was pretty nice — Carol would have enjoyed it here more if her hand were wrapped around your waist. It was owned by someone in the business. Sam told her about the owner as they entered, but she was too busy scanning the area to pay attention to his words. She didn't know what or whom she was looking for.
Well, that was a lie. She knew who she was looking for. You. She was looking for you, and it was stupid for her to expect you here. The smart part of her brain told her that you wouldn't be here — you wouldn’t be at one of the most expensive clubs in the city when you told her you were struggling financially. But that didn't stop Carol's eyes from scanning the area and noticing a little too hard whenever she saw someone with the same hair as you.
It was never you, though.
“You're expecting someone?” Sam asked, and Carol brought her attention back to the men seated in front of her. Back to Sam and Bucky. It was Bucky's voice that brought her attention back to the table, or the lack thereof. She realized that in all her time that she had known them, she had never actually heard him speak. Carol looked at him with wonder, and Sam cleared his throat.
“Can we order something if you're done ogling my husband,” Sam scoffed.
Carol looked at him unbelieving, taken aback by his reaction. It took a second for her to console and control her thoughts. And after eyeing both the men sitting across from her. She spoke in understanding, “What, no. I'm not -"
She exhaled loudly, well, as loudly as she could in a club full of patrons. She didn't know what to say. Furthermore, she wasn't checking out Bucky, and she didn't want Sam to get that thought — it would ruin their partnership. So, after collecting her mind, she finally contented. And the word that came out of her mouth was your name.
Both of them looked at her quizzically, waiting for her to elaborate, but then suddenly, Bucky spoke.
“That sounds like a dame's name.”
If her thoughts weren't consumed by you, Carol would have reacted differently to hearing Bucky's voice for the first time.
“She is,” Carol supplied, “A beautiful dame too.”
“Then what's the problem?” Sam asked.
“The problem is I can't get her out of my mind, and I really need to.”
Bucky looked at her with bewilderment written across his face. He knew this feeling all too well — liking someone too much, but not being able to convey it to them. He looked at Sam, taking his husband’s hand in his as he continued. “If you really like this person, then just talk to her — tell them how you feel.”
Sam chortled, quirking a brow as he looked at Bucky. Sam wanted to say something, but he shook his head as if reliving a moment in his life.
Carol, oblivious to their inside joke, exhaled loudly. She felt it would be better not to bring you — her perfect angel — into her terrifying and horrible life. She wanted to avoid dragging you with her down the pothole she had created for herself. The only thing she knew was that you deserved so much better than Carol.
She looked around and spotted a blonde and decided, “You know what, I prefer not to talk about her. I’m going to take that girl over there my place and forget about her.”
Both Sam and Bucky breathed out disappointedly - they hated the conclusion Carol jumped on to, ignoring their advice. Before any of them could even talk Carol out of her stupid idea, she was already on her feet, making her way towards the girl she pointed at before.
***
“Fuck, baby!” the blonde whispered as Carol inserted another finger inside Charlie? Shirley? the blonde’s cunt. Carol couldn’t even remember her name. She tried — she tried very hard, but the only name she could think of was yours. As the girl on her bed grew louder, Carol thought of you — of how pretty you looked when she was knuckles deep inside you — the beautiful noises you made whenever you were close — how you begged her for permission to let you come.
And as the girl on her bed, reached her high — Carol also reached a conclusion: She wanted—no, she needed you. Only you. And she would do anything to get you back.
Pairing: Carol Danvers x Female reader (Modern AU)
Word Count: ⁓2k words
Warning: mob au, canon sambucky, one night stand, smut, carol is dangerous but reader is a hoe for that shit, no use of y/n
A woman amongst made men—that was what she was known as. And Carol despised it with every fiber of her being. She was far more hardworking and successful than most men in the business, yet she still wasn't taken seriously. At a very young age, Carol realized that just like every woman in any field, she could not be at the top without a man’s help.
And that was why she extended her hand in allyship to the mobsters in the south of New York, Sam and Bucky, despite begrudgingly. They were at least tolerable to her, and they didn't look at Carol like she was a piece of meat they wanted to devour. But that had less to do with Carol and more to their disinterest in her gender altogether. Nonetheless, she was still grateful for them to treat her with respect and as an equal.
“He helped Rumlow capturing my husband. Bucky still has nightmares because of him. I don’t think he's that innocent.”
Carol sighed exhaustedly. She has had this same conversation with Sam a million times. Stark was the most feared mobster in the north and now that he was retiring, she needed it to be her. It was one of those things she wanted the most. The only thing standing between her and her ambition was Rumlow, a man — that was the only reason he was even an obstacle. No one would fall in line for a woman, that was what her father told her, but she taught herself better— She became better and that was why she was shaking hands with Sam and Bucky so that no one would question her authority ever again.
The kill Sam asked for in return wasn’t hard. It was just a man who was scared for his own family and in their protection, he harmed Bucky. That was his crime, and she swore to never put a bullet in an innocent’s head, but here she was in a bar, discreetly keeping an eye on the target as she sported her first glass of drink. The target, on the other hand, was really enjoying himself. It was 7 pm, and she reckoned that he would leave this place until midnight and of course, Carol couldn't just kill him in the middle of this place. So, she decided to busy herself with people around.
And that was how she found you, seated on the other side of the bar while you gloomily eyed your drink. You looked so out of place. While everyone around you was having fun or just out of their mind, you were carefully looking at the drink in your hand — it looked like you were contemplating something, probably whether that drink was worth it. Maybe you were the philosophical type. Perhaps you were wondering if all of this was worth it, Carol couldn't be certain. But she knew she wanted to know, and that was how she found herself striding towards you.
You didn't notice her, eyeing the glass in anger as you downed the drink in one go, groaning when the bitterness hit you all at once.
“Woah! Easy there, tiger!” Carol said, gently holding your elbow as you shifted and the stool wavered.
“Sorry,” you apologized quickly, poorly attempting to straighten yourself before turning towards your savior. “I’ve just had a shit day.”
Carol looked at you expectantly, quirking her brow, indicating you to elaborate so you exhaled before doing just that. “I am a teacher or I was one. I got fired today. Before I could even get this month’s salary. And I don't know how I would even pay rent.”
You looked at Carol and found her listening to your rambling with earnestness and sympathy in her eyes, and you scoffed. You were sharing your life’s problems with a person you didn't know. “I can't believe I'm telling all of this to a stranger.” You shook your head, bringing your attention away from her.
Carol lightly touched her elbow with yours, bringing your attention back to her as she gently ran her knuckles across your cheek. You didn't realize that you were crying. “Well, who would keep your secret better than a stranger?”
You smiled at her sweetly, and Carol swore her heart skipped a beat. When she told you your name, you beamed up at her, giving your name as well. You looked so pure and innocent in her world, and she wanted to hold something in her arms that wasn't tainted — wasn’t selfish like everyone in her life. She wanted you.
And Carol wondered that to you she must seem the opposite. Like a sin — a sin that would feel so good and protect you from the world. You did know what you were getting yourself into. You weren't naïve. Likewise, you noticed the men dressed up in all black following you when she asked you to leave. Not only that, but you also noticed her putting away the gun in her waistband as she placed you on her bed. You knew she was dangerous, and yet, you still willingly came to her house — her bed.
Even the purest of pure couldn't resist a sin. But that was the thing — you weren’t scared of her. Despite every sign warning you to get away from her —she didn't feel wrong. It felt right — the way her hands gently cradled your head as she kissed you. The way she kneaded your breasts like you were glass, and she was terrified to break you in her hold.
“Carol,” you signed as she lapped her lips on your sex. ”You can go a little rough on me. Swear I won't break.”
And rough she did. You felt her smirk against you as she raised your thigh to place it on her shoulder. Her tongue and mouth worked relentlessly on your cunt as you neared your first orgasm. Sucking on your juice to collect every last drop of you, Carol climbed and brushed the hair off your face as she shared your taste with you.
Carol eyed the watch on the bedside and released a breath of relief when she realized she still had time to cherish you. Her fingers worked into you as she kissed you fervently, observing your features and smiling to herself when she hit the sweet spot inside you again.
“Oh, angel,” she cooed, gently placing a kiss on the corner of your mouth. It was so contrasting—on one hand, she was smothering sweet kisses on your face and with another her fingers were working inside you as her thumb found its place on your bundle of joy, immediately finding a pace that had you nearing another orgasm. “Are you close, baby?”
“Fuck, yes, Carol!” you panted as you tried to form coherent thoughts. “Can I come, please?”
“Oh,” you were so gorgeous under her. You didn’t have to ask her for permission, but the way you did had Carol imagining things. She never wanted you to leave. As soon as the thought hit her, she kissed you again. “Of course, you can, pretty girl.”
And come you did. It wasn't like you hadn't had orgasms before, but nothing felt like this one. It felt like you were floating on a cloud while the stars surrounded you and formed a plush blanket. And you realized that this is what it should feel like every time. How deprived you were of orgasms that nothing felt like this. This was heaven, you concluded.
After cleaning you up, Carol settled on the bed beside you, and instantly you rested your head on her chest, wrapping your arm around her tightly. In return, Carol pulled you closer, peppering kisses on your temple as she whispered words of affirmation in your ear — you were so good for me, angel— you did so well, my perfect girl.
And she would have assumed you were asleep if it weren't for your uneven breathing. You felt so vulnerable in her arms — the haze of the orgasms ever-present in your mind. You clung to her like your life depended on her, and maybe to your dazed mind — it did. Furthermore, you thought you would fall if she let you go.
“Tell me something, Carol. Please,” You looked up at her, tears brimming your eyes for reasons you couldn't comprehend. You never felt emotions this intensely, and it was definitely the multiple releases that had you feeling this defenseless. Carol immediately shushed you, gently running her thumb across your cheek to rid your face of tears. “Tell me something you wouldn't tell a stranger you meet in a bar.”
It grew silent. It wasn't uncomfortable, though. The way her hand gently rubbed on your spine as she sporadically peppered kisses on your face. It felt peaceful— domestic even, but you didn't want to even think that this soon. This was a one-night stand. Tomorrow morning, you would be gone. You would go back to your average mattress and empty apartment while she would kill that man. So for only this night, you decided to enjoy the super fluffy bed and the comfort of her embrace.
“It's an obligation. A favor,” She explained, “It's important for me to make a name for myself - to be seen an equal I have to kill that man. He probably doesn’t deserve to die.”
That made you sober up and return from the land of the bliss. You were taken aback. “I expected you to lie to me. Why are you telling me this?”
You didn't bat an eye when she gazed down at you, taking your chin in between her index finger and thumb as her thumb trailed a path along your lower lip. “Because no one will believe you and you will forget everything the moment I'm done with you, angel.”
In an instant, she was above you— kissing you — touching you everywhere. All you could feel was Carol and Carol’s hands on your body, and she was right. You could only remember one thing—one name, ringing in your head as she trailed a path down your body.
“Carol," You moaned as she brought you closer to another orgasm. You couldn't muster a cogent thought in your head, even if you tried. Everything was Carol. Her mouth on yours. Carol. Your hands in her hair. Carol. Her fingers working inside you. Carol.
It was all Carol. Until it all faded to dark as you succumbed to sleep.
***
To say that, you woke up a little out of it and groggy would be an understatement. You felt like you were hungover, even though you weren't drunk last night. It took you a while to collect your thoughts and as you did, you found Carol sleeping beside you. One arm under her head and the other around your waist.
Carefully, you slipped out of her hold, placing a pillow instead of your form as you gathered your clothes.
Once you were ready and on your way to the door, you turned around to look at her one last time. You knew you didn't have to leave a goodbye. It was a one-time thing, you would probably never meet her again. You had bills and a job to worry about — not some dangerous woman who killed people in her profession. But something about Carol sleeping soundly had you feeling butterflies in your stomach.
For some unexplainable reason, you wrote a note for her and left it on her bedside table. Planting a kiss on her forehead, you made your way out of her house.
You sighed in trepidation as you reached your apartment, you had a feeling this wasn't goodbye.
I absolutely loved your Maya Lopez imagine. If you take requests, I’d love to send one. If not, completely ignore this.
How about Maya came back to hers and readers shared apartment with terrible injuries after a mission and Maya just breaks down, letting reader hold her and just genuine fluff :) thank youuu. Add anything you want to that!
Omg yes. I’m so in love with Maya. Its really disappointing that she isn’t appreciated as much as Kate and Yelena.
Wounded
Pairing: Maya Lopez x Female reader (Run AU)
Word Count: 1k words
Warning: hawkeye spoilers(sort of), established relationship, injured Maya, fluff, could also be read as a standalone
It was a simple plan. Assemble around Ronin, trap him and kill him. Maya and Kazi had gone through the plan multiple times. This was important to Maya—She was finally getting revenge for her father's murder. Maya knew that this kill would taint her hands in blood (figuratively and literally), she knew you wouldn’t appreciate her walking in your home with a bruised body and empty, pizza-less hands. But she would make it up to you—she always had.
If Maya wasn't a private person, she would also brag about you in front of her men. Oh, how pretty you were and how putty you were in her hands. A person—a good person like you didn’t belong anywhere near her, but Maya just couldn’t resist, and luckily neither did you.
At the beginning of your relationship, Maya despised herself for being selfish—for dragging sweet, gentle you into her cruel and uncaring world. But you taught her that it was okay to want—to desire someone, and once she came to terms with that, she hadn’t stopped desiring you ever since.
It was a simple plan, and yet, they still failed. The person they presumed to be Ronin was just Clint in Ronan's suit. And he took out her men before she could even figure out their absence. She had to admit—he was good and so was his partner/best friend, Kate. Contrary to what Kazi might say, She didn’t hate Kate and Clint. Both of them and their dynamic reminded Maya of her and your relationship.
But in her defense, everything reminded Maya of you. When one of her men talked about Imagine Dragons and his girlfriend, it reminded her of the time you took her to your favorite band’s concert. When Kate recklessly jumped in to save Clint, it reminded her of the first time she met you and how impulsively you punched someone without proper form to defend her.
She wouldn't admit this aloud, but she was glad Clint got away. She wanted to make her way home to you as soon as possible. It was date night, and she could not show up late without pizza, but she was also heavily injured.
On the other hand, it would have been an understatement if someone said you were mad because you were fuming. Maya was late for date night again. You understood that her line of work required her, but she could have at least texted you. It was one thing to be late and another to not inform you at all.
When you heard keys clattering, you were ready to give your girlfriend a piece of your mind, but you were met with a bruised and battered Maya instead. Instantly, your anger was replaced by concern, and you made your way towards her, wrapping your arms around her waist as she swayed a bit.
Maya's expression morphed into one of pain when your hand touched the small of her back.
“Sorry,” you mouthed immediately, loosening your touch around her as you made her walk towards your shared bedroom.
As she took a seat on the bed, she closed her eyes forcefully in pain. You knelt in front of her and handed her the Advil with a glass of water. Once she downed the painkiller, you placed the glass on the side table as you pressed the antiseptic at the wound.
“I'll be gentle,” you demonstrated, lightly dabbing the cotton swab on the reddened area.
When the painkillers kicked in and the pain subsided, she studied your face and noticed you were holding back tears—it hurt you to see her hurt. Maya had never known this sort of unconditional love. In her profession, love was bought with favors, but you—you were different. You just gave her everything without demanding anything back in return, and Maya would give her life for your happiness. She would also take the lives of the ones that even thought of hurting you. She was so enchanted by you that she didn’t even notice when you placed a band-aid around her injury.
Furthermore, she wrapped her fingers around your wrist as you began to stand up and walk away. You frowned, looking at her with a quirked brow.
“You are beautiful,” she signed, making your lips tug upwards as you shook your head and bent down to connect your lips with hers in a soft kiss.
After throwing away the remnants of cotton and preparing a bath, you walked back inside the bedroom. You took her hands in yours, tugging her to stand up as you helped her remove her bloodied clothes.
You were meticulous of her injuries as you helped her undress. And once you settled in the bathtub, her back against your chest; you pulled her closer, peppering kisses and words of comfort in her hair. She couldn’t understand what you were saying, but it calmed her nonetheless.
Reaching for the shower gel, you squirted some on your hands, rubbing the lather around her body with utmost care. Paying extra attention to the sore areas, you rubbed and massaged as she lightly exhaled and rested her head on your shoulder.
After you cleaned her up, you wrapped a bathrobe around her before doing the same to yourself. Taking her hand in yours again, you led her to the comfort of your bed.
When you were settled in, her head resting on your chest, legs tangled together; you laced your hands around her frame, igniting her body with warmth. Maya placed a warm palm on your face, rubbing her thumb across your cheekbone in a soothing manner, the same way you were rubbing your fingers on her spine.
As sleep almost engulfed both of you, Maya took her hand out of your grasp, signaling, “I'm sorry for ruining date night. I will make it up to you.”
If you weren’t so exhausted, you would have smiled or told her to not worry. Her health was more important. She was the most important person in your life and nothing mattered to you more.
“Oh, baby,” you sighed, pulling her closer and removing the minuscule distance between you. You pressed a kiss on her forehead as you whispered assurance to her sleeping form. “I know you will. You always do.”
Warning: hawkeye spoilers, this is sorta based after ep 6, established relationship, smut, a bit of angst?, fluff?
A/N: I got tired of going through the empty Maya tags so I wrote this little thing for myself lol
You shuddered, raking your fingers in Maya's hair as her mouth lapped onto your sex while her fingers relentlessly worked inside you. She had let her hair down today, you noticed. Every morning before leaving for work, Maya would come and sit on the kitchen stool and hand you a hairbrush, indicating you to braid her hair. And you would gently smile and kiss her on the head as you lightly ran your fingers through her hair. You loved these little moments with your girlfriend so much that you carried a hair tie around your wrist just for her.
You liked running your hands in her hair even more when she worked you over and over again until you were a babbling mess. But after your first orgasm, you realized that something was different. She wanted to delve into your most intimate part not to cherish and show you her love—no, she wanted to forget something that day. You didn't know what that something was, you weren't allowed to ask. But you had a clue — you had seen the news, and you were also aware of the kind of people she worked with. It didn't take long for you to connect the dots.
As Maya ushered you out of your thoughts and into a haze as she brought you closer to your release once again. You arched your head, your body instinctively moving away from her tight grip around your hip, but Maya knew your body better. She felt every vibration and every movement of your body—your rising chest, the shiver that ran across your spine, your heartbeat. She knew your limit, and that was why she didn't relent.
Lapping onto your clit in a movement that she knew would have you coming instantly, she inserted another finger. Maya made you see stars on the ceiling of a small apartment in New York, and in that moment, you believed in magic. If you weren't so out of it, you would've realized she intended that when she walked into your apartment that night. She wanted you to be a little out of it—she wanted your compliance as she broke down the decision she was making for you—both of you and your future.
Once you were all cleaned and settled in bed, Maya brought your blissed out body near her, settling your head on her chest as she wrapped you around her. You hummed in relief as she soothingly ran her hand across your spine—fingers so tender and calm that it brought you closer to the land of dreams.
You felt her looking at you, so you gazed up at her, and she instantly took her hands out of to communicate.
“We will leave this place tomorrow,” She signed, swallowing the fear of refusal looming over her head.
“You mean this apartment?” You asked, hoping that she didn't mean what you thought she did. Maybe she was asking you to move in with her, you consoled yourself.
“No, this city. I have made arrangements for us outside.”
You had so many questions. You wanted to ask about your work—you wanted to ask whether you both could even afford moving away— you wanted to ask about your friends and family in the city. And Maya was preparing herself for that, she had all the answers to the worries you could possibly have. But you asked the one thing she didn't expect. “What happened out there tonight, baby?”
Maya's eyes widened a bit, your question clearly took her by surprise. She blinked a few times as she tried to scare away the tears the way she did with people. It didn't work. Instinctively, you placed a hand on her cheek, thumb sweeping under her eye and ridding her face of the wetness. Your girlfriend sighed, nuzzling in your warm hold, and she held your wrist lightly, craning her head to place a kiss on the inside of your palm.
Maya was a lot of things including a killer, but she wasn't a liar, especially when it came to you. So she answered honestly. “I lost someone important to me tonight. I can't let that happen again.”
She dipped her chin in agitation, hoping that you understood how terrified she was of losing you. She knew she couldn't vocalize what she felt, but even if she could, no words could comprehend her fear. Even in death, Kingpin would haunt Maya, and she wanted to take you away from all of this.
You were always going to be in danger as long as you stayed with her. Both of you knew that but none of you wanted to admit and lose the other. And you also knew that one day, the skeletons in her closet will catch up to you and ruin both of you. But that night, you decided to pretend like all of that was false. Like you were a naïve little girl in love, unaware of the monsters looming in the dark.
“Let's get out of this place.” you nodded, a smile tugged at the corner of your mouth and Maya pulled you towards her, pressing your lips against her in a languid kiss.
And as you fell asleep in your lover's arms, you just wished that the next place you found yourself in would be devoid of the horrors from her past.
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female reader (For Your Eyes Only AU)
Word Count: 2.7k words
Warning: Based on the song - Thumbs by Lucy Dacus, angst, shitty dad, homophobia, reader has major daddy issues, this is just angsty and sad, this was the original one-shot from where this au generated, not sad ending tho
Natasha despised it when her co-workers approached her to take their shifts. She was too proud to ask anyone for help, even when she was sick. But now she loved taking extra shifts just to spend time with you. Natasha spent all her spare time at your apartment, which was above your shop. She barely went to her own place. After almost two weeks of her spending every night in your house — you proposed the idea of her moving in — very subtly — at least that was what you thought. But Natasha could see your anxiety behind the faux calmness, and it didn't take her more than a second to say yes.
Natasha admired as you arranged the flowers in a garland, you eyed the final output again and smiled at the result. You were such a remarkable florist. You had her in your grasp since the first time she saw your talented work at Sam and Bucky's wedding and when you made cookies for her. Damn, having you as a girlfriend was a treat. Because of you, Natasha had domesticity, a sense of belonging that she didn’t know existed. You did nice things for her without special occasions, and that made Natasha fall in love with you even more.
After your first date, Natasha didn't waste time — she had ordered something from you almost every week in hopes of seeing you frequently, and you put in extra effort into her flowers. You even bought different varieties of flora especially to make her arrangement look colorful. Every time, Natasha looked forward to the way your beautiful eyes filled with delight when she liked a bouquet, and that was all it took for her to tell you she loved you. And you confessed your love instantly as well.
Your ringing phone brought her back from her thoughts. You placed the flowers on the workshop, still unaware of your girlfriend watching you as you answered the call. It gave her more time to think about you — as if she didn't constantly think about you.
A raise in your voice brought her attention to you, and she followed the direction where you went. Turning towards you, Natasha found you with tears in your eyes. In an instant, she was standing in front of you, taking your face in her hands as she asked. “What’s wrong?”
“My dad is in town.” Your voice was barely audible, and Natasha wouldn't have heard if she wasn't standing so close to you. “He wants to meet.”
“You don't have to go. “ Natasha knew that you had a rocky relationship with your dad. He wasn't much of a parent anyway. Very early in your relationship, she caught on that your dad wasn't a topic you wanted to dwell in, and she respected that. She gave you time to come to her and tell her when you felt comfortable. Natasha didn't think it'd take so long for you to confide in her, but it took you almost a year.
“I have to.”
“Then I am coming with you,” Natasha decided and as you shook your head, she repeated. “I am coming with you.”
You sighed in defeat because you knew better. You knew Natasha wouldn’t take no for an answer, so you just nodded.
***
You were always so confident and sure of yourself, but ever since you got the call from your dad, you had been distant. Your girlfriend insisted multiple times that you don't have to go, but she wasn't the only one that was stubborn in the relationship.
You preferred not to see your drunk father blabber about your flaws either, but you wanted to show him that you were in a better place. You wanted him to know that his shitty parenting didn't deter you from becoming a wonderful person. Not only that, but you wanted to return the money he sent you on your birthdays. Well, around your birthday. He never got the date right. He didn't even remember it. You shook your head, huffing bitterly at the thought. You intended to return the money when you turned 20, but your financial condition wasn't strong. Starting your own business was already hard enough, so you had to put your pride aside and accept any financial help you could get.
And that was how you ended up sitting in a bar at 11 am, with your hand gently wrapped around your girlfriend's thigh. She grounded you, and right now, you needed your anchor. You needed to remember that you were in a better place, you weren't the scared little girl that always flinched whenever you saw a sudden movement. Well, you still did, but you didn't want him to know that he still had any sort of impact in your life.
On the other hand, Natasha hated this — hated how you were voluntarily putting yourself in a position that was mentally harming you. You had told her about your father and from what she understood, he wasn't a good man. He wasn't the kind of man who would care about his daughter. He wouldn't have abandoned you and your family if he cared. She knew you didn't care about him either — it was some sort of sick revenge for you — to shove your happiness in his face. But Natasha wasn't oblivious, deep inside you were doing this to get some sort of validation from an absent father. As messed up as it sounded, you wanted him to tell you that you were doing good and that he was proud of you. Natasha didn't know much about families. Her family consisted of Steve, Sam, Bucky and you, but one thing she knew was that she'd do anything for her family.
And you were willingly putting yourself in a harmful situation, and if that was what you wanted, then Natasha would clean your wounds later. She would pick up everything you thought was scattered inside you and show you how wrong you were. Because in reality, you were amazing and to her, you were perfect in every sense, and she intended to display you just that with love.
Suddenly, a man walked into the bar, quickly recognizing you,, and you gave him a smile that didn't reach your eyes. Natasha felt your body tense up beside her when the same man — your father, took a place in front of you both. She placed her palm on your hand that was resting on her thigh, squeezing it — assuring you that she was here for you. The first thing she noticed about your father was his eyes. He had your eyes or, well, you had his eyes, and it made her shiver up. Natasha loved your eyes and seeing the same color reflected from a person that didn't have value like yours made her feel disgusted — vulnerable even, like he knew a part of her that belonged to you — only you.
But you, you were stiff as a board beside her. You still kept on with your faux show as you called for the waiter.
“Rum and coke,” Your dad ordered and when the waiter looked at you and Natasha, both of you murmured your preferred non-alcoholic drink. It was noon, and as much as Natasha wanted to drink away your father's words, she wanted to be sober for you.
"You're not drinking?" Your dad commented on both of your orders. He shook his head as he joked. “You're not 18 yet?”
“You wouldn't know, since you don't even remember my birthday,” You replied. You weren’t being sarcastic, you were stating a fact.
Your father scoffed, muttering something about you being a brat. None of you said a word when your orders finally arrived. Natasha was glad for that, she wanted to be done with this, so she could hold you. Your father took a massive gulp, eyeing Natasha in inspection.
“I see you're still keeping up the lifestyle,” He commented with displeasure, taking another considerable chug of his drink. Natasha was about to say something, but you quickly took her hand in yours, indicating her to just let it go. And reluctantly, she did.
Intentionally, you looked at the drink in his hand as you stated, “I could say the same about you.”
“Why did you want to meet me?” You spoke again. “What do you want?”
“I thought it was obvious. I wanted to avoid pressurizing you, considering your business and stuff. I told you not to put money in that stupid profession. Did you know that your sister returned all the money before she turned 20 and — "
Before he could continue with his rant, you cut him off. “I have the money. All of it. I don't need it, you know. My shop is actually doing pretty well.”
He scoffed again, shaking his head as he muttered ‘flower shop’ in a tone that could only be considered condescending.
You didn't let his behavior or the way he was looking down at you deter you. “And I make enough to support myself,” You added.
“It's easy to say when you don't have a wife and two daughters hanging on your neck. Demanding all these things whenever you wanted to work on your family -”
“You were barely home!” You raised your voice, not having the patience to listen to him as he talked shit about your sister and mother. “You weren't there. We were kids. Kids that you decided to have. If we were such a burden to you, then why even bother to have kids?”
"You know what,” You decided, clutching your girlfriend's hand tighter in your grasp. It was tight — too tight, and it must have hurt her, but she didn't say anything. You placed the money you owed him on the table and called for the server. “Here's the check. This is all the money you’ve ever sent me. Please don't contact me again.”
You thought — hoped he would apologize or ask you to stay or at least he would tell you he wasn't concerned about the money — that he cared about you. But he simply blinked, examining the check on the table, and that broke you. You felt like the little kid you once were, waiting for approval from a person who wasn't the father you needed him to be. A parent was supposed to love you no matter what and he — well, he just loved the booze.
Tears welled up in your eyes at the realization. Nothing mattered to him, not you, not your sister, and not even your mother. And you would have broken down on the bar's floor if your girlfriend didn't squeeze your hand at that very moment. Natasha curled her other hand around your elbow, balancing you to stay still and tentatively, you rested some of your body weight on her, and she held you, supporting your body precisely the way she supported you.
“We're leaving,” Natasha announced, gently wrapping her hand around your waist as she nudged you to move out of that place and away from the bar and that horrible man you called dad.
When you left, you two felt his gaze on your back, and you straightened instantly. Without saying a word, your girlfriend walked in the wrong direction with you before calling for a cab.
***
If Natasha thought you were distant before meeting your father, she was so wrong. After that evening, you barely looked at her. You didn't hum while working, and you were almost always zoned out while hanging out with your friends.
It terrified Natasha — the fear of losing you was making her anxious. She was desperate when she asked Sam and Bucky, and they advised her to give you some space. Sam started dropping by frequently to your shop to joke around with you, and Natasha held you tighter every night. You were slipping away from her grasp, and it made the mere task of breathing difficult for her.
She could hear you sob in the bathroom every night, still, she didn't say anything. She didn't know what to say — she just held you every night — tighter than before.
One day, when Natasha returned home, she found you baking and humming a song. You hadn't baked since that meeting with your father. It was like you had retreated from everything that brought you joy. So to see you whisk batter and sway your hips to a tune she didn't care about enough to recognize made Natasha's heart swell and eyes well up in relief.
You felt your girlfriend and turned around to find her. “Hey,” You mumbled, avoiding her gaze. “I hope you're hungry.”
And that was when Natasha noticed the dining table filled with her favorite dishes and decorated with the beautiful arrangement of flowers. All of that done by you, she presumed.
Both of you didn't say a word until you got settled on the table with your respective plates filled with food. For the first time, the gaps in the conversation between you two were uncomfortable. You weren't used to this. You were used to comfortable silence, not fumbling words that were just there to prevent awkwardness.
“I'm sorry,” You apologized out of nowhere, maintaining eye contact with Natasha for the first time after so long. “I'm sorry for being so distant lately. I didn't mean to do that.”
Lightly, out of instinct or just sheer habit, Natasha placed her hand on yours and rubbed the pads of her thumb across your knuckles. “Sweetheart, I love you, you know that, right?” You nodded and she continued. “Then talk to me, please. You're clearly bothered by what happened with your father. And if you don't wanna talk to me, then that's fine too, just talk to someone.”
You nodded again. Natasha waited for you to say something — assert in some way that you were here with her — you were listening, that she hadn't lost you completely. But when no reply came from your side, Natasha sighed, shoulders shrugging down in defeat.
Natasha was about to get back to the delicious food you had prepared when you finally spoke again. “What if I turn out like him?”
“Hm?”
“Substance abuse can be hereditary. I read that when I was 13, and I was so scared to even try alcohol or anything addictive for that matter. What if I turn out like him — miserable, drunk, and angry. At the end of the day, I am his blood — his daughter.”
Natasha's heart broke at your words. She stood up from the seat and made her way towards you, gently cupping your face in her palms as she made you look up at her. “Hey, baby. No,” She ran her thumb under your eyes, ridding your face of the wetness there. “You're not like him at all. You are kind, caring, and patient, and he's a drunk old man. You could never be like him.”
“But I am his daughter,” You retorted, sniffling at the fear you had carried your whole life.
“You're only connected to him by a mere coincidence. He doesn't define you, baby. You do.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
Habitually, you got on your feet and brought your girlfriend flush against you in an embrace. Natasha let out a breath at that sudden movement before lacing her arms around you just as tightly. She hadn’t lost you. She realized that she could never lose you. As long as both of you communicate with the other, you'd be happy.
Natasha felt tears land on her shoulder, but she didn't say anything, instead, she just rubbed her hand around your spine in a soothing manner — letting you let all the held tears out.
And oh boy, you cried. You sobbed on her shoulder ferociously, while Natasha murmured words of assurance in your ears.
As planned, Natasha picked up everything you thought was scattered inside you and showed you how amazing you were; because to her, you were perfect.
A/N: Hey friends! Here is a brief first part to a Christmas series I want to write this month. I’ve had a really hard time trying to write, and I’m still trying to work through a lot right now. But, I thought a cute holiday themed series might help me out of it! Longer parts to follow! Thank you all so much for the support, and continuing to follow me even though I’m not posting as consistently. I appreciate all of you so much.
No warning for this part, but will eventually be NSFW
You wince as you push the book cart with the squeaky wheel over to the rows of fiction shelves. You whisper embarrassed apologies to the patrons who look up from their work to the source of the sudden loud noise echoing in the building. You can’t figure out which is worse: walking with it as fast as possible, which only makes the cry of the wheels louder, or try moving the cart as slowly as you can, which elongates the situation uncomfortably.
Even though you’ve worked with books for so long now, you still have to sing the alphabet in your head as you try to find just the right spot on the shelves for each book on the cart. It’s easy for you to tunnel in on organizing the books on the shelf, that you don’t realize he’s there until he speaks first.
“Any recommendations, doll?” He asks, leaning up against the shelf.
“Oh god,” you exclaim in a whisper, jumping slightly, and you ignore the way your reaction makes him chuckle.
“All of the Beginning Reader books are downstairs,” you suggest sarcastically, and Bucky holds a hand to his heart and fakes looking heartbroken and offended. He turns his attention over to the shelf and runs a finger over the tiles.
“Guess if I want a big boy book I’ll need you to read it to me,” he flirts, and you can’t help but scoff.
