a/n: I haven't written in forever so please forgive me. I'm trying to get back into it and I started this fit a while ago so I figured I'd finally post the first few chapters of it! I hope you like it!
masterlist
You had your nose fully engrossed in your book, ignoring the lunch you had set out to eat on the table next to you. You had been itching to read your latest story- a crime thriller- all morning, making the minutes agonizing, and once you finally took your lunch break the book was the first thing you thought about.
Just as the story started to pick up, your coworker David ran into the break room. “Hey, sorry to interrupt, Betty needs you up at the front. Some guy showed up all serious and she had to take a meeting with him.”
“What about you? I’m on lunch right now. Why can’t you get the front desk?”
“I got story time in five minutes. Unless you want to read ‘Cat In The Hat’?”
“No, thanks. I’ll take the front.” Children stressed you out, the way they could never sit still and pay attention. You were grateful for David and his endless patience.
The library you worked at in downtown Manhattan saw a fair amount of traffic. Unfortunately, everyone always seemed to come in right after you took your lunch break. There was a decent amount of books for one of New York’s oldest private libraries and only three full time employees. Betty, the head librarian, was about sixty years old and a kind old soul. She had been a librarian at this branch her entire life and defended her books with such ferocity that she had been given the nickname ‘the book witch’ by the snot-nosed little kids that mixed up the shelving in the children’s section and ‘old hag’ by the meaner ones . You swore that you saw her hit a teenager over the head with a book when he and his friends were eating in the library. David was an oddball. He was technically in charge of the technology, but the branch had only a handful of computers and, for the most part, relied on paper records to keep track of its books. In the two years you had been working with David, you never once saw him read a book unless he had to. He was a character, to say the least.
You had been working at the library for the past two and a half years. Growing up you loved to read and went to college at NYU, studying Classic Literature before graduating a year early and deciding to get your degree in Master’s in Library and Information Science and become a librarian. You found your job to be incredibly rewarding but also very stressful. You liked helping people find new books and seeing them get excited about books. However, you were constantly hounded by mounds of paperwork and phone calls and constant organization. During your first week, you had made the mistake of re-organizing the disheveled back room and had apparently done such a good job that Betty decided to put you in charge of all things ‘organized’ and gave you control of the library’s extensive records. You assumed that you had managed it fairly well. Housing thousands of books and newspaper records whilst still using the Dewey Decimal system, it had been a nightmare to digitize everything. The project had occupied a few months of your time but at the end of it, nobody complained and all files were straightforward and easy to find. It was all smooth sailing.
While sitting at the front desk that afternoon you longed for the book that you were forced to abandon in the break room. Your felt stomach start to complain about the ignored lunch and you were about to go back to grab your sandwich during a rare dead-period when Betty walked over with someone.
The man next to Betty had messy dark brown hair and a neatly shaped goatee. He wore an old Black Sabbath t-shirt and shaded sunglasses and walked with such confidence and swagger that he was easily recognizable. Tony freaking Stark.
‘What the hell is he doing here?’ you wondered to yourself.
“Ah, Mr. Stark, this is who I was talking about. She’s the best librarian and archivist I have ever worked with.” Betty smiled through her rectangle glasses.
“Thank you,” you beamed, slightly flustered by the compliment, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stark.”
“The pleasure’s all mine. All my prayers have been answered. You are really going to save my ass.”
Though you had heard that Stark had a unique and slightly confusing way of talking, you were not expecting this. How could you help him? He was a genius. “How exactly am I going to do that, Mr. Stark.”
“Call me Tony. I have a slight problem that I could use your help with.” He began, “Back when we were just starting out a few years ago, after the New York alien invasion disaster, we were supposed to log everything and do debriefs and paperwork and all that stuff but we didn’t exactly know what to do with all of it so it kind of all just got piled up in filing cabinets and boxes. That wasn’t that big of a problem but now we’re supposed to share our records with the UN and they’re a disaster. None of us have any idea how to do it- not that we have time to- so that’s where you come in.”
“So you want me to organize it all for you?”
“All of it, by March 26th.” Your eyes widened. That was only three weeks away. Who knows how bad it was? Still, it was Tony Stark and he would probably be willing to pay pretty well.
“Just as long as Betty and David will be able to manage without me-” you began, but Betty interrupted your only excuse.
“We’ll be fine, dear.” She smiled, and you could tell that she was trying to encourage you to take the job. The library would survive despite the massive increase in work that she and David would have to endure.
You looked from her to Stark, who was leaning against the desk and smiling also, then back to Betty. You felt bad about leaving Betty and the library but the opportunity to work with Stark was too alluring. “Okay, okay. I’m in.”
“Okay great! That was easier than I thought it would be.” Tony said, clapping his hands and standing up straight. “I’ll see you at 9 tomorrow, Happy will give you more info, here’s my card,” his mouth was moving faster than you expected and words were being thrown out that you didn’t understand. Who was Happy? Did he want to meet you at the Avenger’s Tower? Before you had even realized what you just got yourself into, Tony Stark was out the door.
You breathed out, muttering a curse word that you hoped Betty didn’t hear. You stood up from the desk and she walked over to you. Clasping her hands around yours she smiled again, “Congratulations, I am so proud of you, dear.”
“No fucking way, Tony Stark wants you to come organize the Avenger’s records!?” David asked for the millionth time while the two of you were sorting the book returns.
“I swear to god, David, it was him.” You were starting to get annoyed. David seemed more excited about your job than you were. “I have no idea how bad it is. I only have three weeks to get everything in order.”
“Oh, shit, you might be screwed then. How long did it take for you to get this branch in order?”
“Two, three months. But I also had other stuff to do, it wasn’t like my main job.”
“You’re gonna be fine. You’re smart and capable and it can’t be that bad. Plus just remember how much he’s probably gonna pay you.”
“Yeah,” you began but a buzz in your pocket distracted you. You pulled it out to find a text from an unknown number “Hey, I bet this is him with the info, I’ll be right back.”
warnings: cheating, language, implied sexual activity
a/n: I wanted to write something based on The Way I Loved You by Taylor Swift because I’ve been listening to that song a lot but it ended up not really being like that. idk. I’m just trying to get back into writing but I’ve been too preocupied with having my work be good so I’m trying to write for fun right now before working on my (way more dark/serious) novel ideas. long intro. sorry. enjoy :)
masterlist
It was a busy day. You were working at a coffee bar downtown. The cold weather and finals for the college students always resulted in nonstop traffic. You were five hours into your eight hour shift and hadn’t gotten a chance to sit down.
“Bucky?!” you gawked, spilling the coffee you were carrying. You had dated him on and off for a couple years. Then last year, he broke things off officially. You had moved on, found a different guy who you were happy with.
“Hi, Doll.” He smiled from the counter. He glanced down at your blue employee shirt. It was wet and stained from the coffee. “Something wrong?”
“No. I’m fine.” You said, walking up to the register. “What do you want, Bucky?”
“Hey, what’s with the attitude, doll? I just want a large black coffee.” The little prick knew what he was doing.
“It’ll be $4.95. Name?”
“From the way you used to scream it, you know my name.” He smirked, handing you a 5. “Keep the change.”
You blushed, but were secretly thinking that you were going to spit in his coffee. “I have a boyfriend, Bucky.”
“Sure you do.” He smiled and turned away.
You didn’t end up spitting in his coffee. That was too mean. Instead you made the three people behind him’s drinks even though he had the simplest order. After twenty minutes, you figured he’d get suspicious so you finally called his name.
“This is for you, doll,” Bucky winked, handing you a few bills. You looked at them. There was a crisp twenty and an old soft one. On the one, he had written the spot, 7. You stared at those words.
The spot was technically an alleyway where you two used to meet in Clinton Hill. It was about halfway between your place in Manhattan and Bucky’s place in Brooklyn. You’d meet there whenever you were going out with him. What the spot really was, though, was the cafe down the block that you went to whenever Bucky was more than twenty minutes late. And he was usually late.
You got off at six that night. You sent a quick text to your boyfriend, telling him that you might be back late, and got on the train to Brooklyn.
That night you took your time to get there. There was no way Bucky would be there at 7 you thought. He had never been on time once. But lo and behold, standing there at 6:57, three minutes early, was Bucky. He was wearing a leather jacket and held a bouquet of flowers.
“Hi there, Doll.” He smiled, holding out the bouquet. “I got these for you.”
“Bucky, I told you, I have a boyfriend. I love him.”
“And yet you came all the way out here to meet me. Doll, I don’t think you really love him.”
“I am. He’s so sweet and respectful. He holds the door open for me, he always keeps his promises, my parents like him- Bucky, you were never any of those things.”
“I can be. I promise.”
“You said that last time. And the time before that. And the time before that. Why should this time be any different? And besides, I’m happy.”
“Are you?” He stared into your eyes before pulling you into a kiss. A roller coaster of emotion came rushing to you. You remembered being with Bucky. How you guys would fight and break up, only for one of you to come rushing back to the other’s apartment a few days later. This kiss was just like all the others. It was intoxicating and exhilarating and you wanted more.
When you woke up in Bucky’s bed the next morning, you weren’t surprised or angry with yourself. Not even the dozens of missed texts and calls from your boyfriend gave you any feeling of regret. Instead, you thought about how the universe kept pulling you back to him, and how you would be a fool to ignore it. You had missed Bucky and the way you loved him.
“See, Doll. You don’t love him. You belong with me.”
“I love you, Bucky.”
“I fucking missed that.” He groaned. “I love you too.”
a/n: inspired by personal fantasies and some prompt list I saw while scrolling. I really need to stop using the internet as much.
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“Bucky, I need help!” You called from your closet. You had plans to go out with your friends that night and had your hair and makeup done. You were supposed to leave in ten minutes but you were standing in your closet in the giant t-shirt you did your makeup in trying to pick out an outfit.
“Yes?” Bucky asked, poking his head into the messy room. Your boyfriend, Bucky Barnes, was tall, with long dark hair, and bright eyes, and was absolutely gorgeous. Not to mention he had good fashion taste.
“I don’t know what to wear.” You frowned.
“Lucky you asked me for help.” He smiled at you, the corners of his mouth turned up smugly. He began rummaging around through your drawers and hangers. He threw a skirt at you. You un-crumpled it, confused as to why this skirt in particular was the one he chose. You thought the same thing when he tossed you a shirt.
“Bucky, that shirt is way too revealing. It barely counts as a shirt.”
“You asked me for help.” He reminded you, and went back looking around your closet. Finally, he handed you a matching pair of pink lace underwear and bra, and a pair of heels. “I’ll let you get dressed.”
You had to hand it to Bucky, the outfit looked good, albeit very very sexy. Only your butt and breasts were covered and even then only barely. He had managed to find the shortest skirt you owned and the most revealing top. Butterflies filled your stomach. Bucky had picked out this outfit for you.
You walked out of the closet to find your room deserted. Bucky must have left, being impatient and not wanting to stick around. You checked to make sure that you had everything in your purse before you headed for the front door. Just as you grabbed the doorknob, you noticed Bucky leaning against the refrigerator.
“Wait a second, you don’t think you’re actually leaving looking like that?” He laughed.
“Looking like what?”
“You look like a slut.”
“You dressed me in this.”
He walked over to where you stood by the door. You backed up into the door and Bucky put his hand on the wall, trapping you.
“Bucky-”
“You look so fucking good right now.” He said, his voice low and husky. You looked down in submission and saw the bulge in his pants. He noticed what you were staring at. “You know you want to.”
You looked into his eyes before nodding your head. Bucky grabbed your neck and kissed you. He pressed his body into yours deeply and passionately.
Bucky pulled down your panties and shoved them into your mouth. He undid his pants, picked you up by the waist and pinning you against the wall, he slid his cock into you. He fucked you hard and fast.
Just as you were beginning to get close to your peak, Bucky cursed and shot warm cum into you.
“Fuck, baby, that was good.”
“Not for me. I didn’t get close.”
“Don’t worry about that, baby. I got some ropes and toys that’ll fix that pretty fast.”
“But my friends-”
“Just tell them you got sick. I know you’d rather be here.”
Bucky did make good on that promise, but you never did ask him for fashion advice again.
a/n: I was watching a rainy day in new york for the first time tonight after rehearsal and I think this film changed my outlook on many things
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“Tabbie? Is that you? What’s wrong?” He entered the kitchen where you were cutting vegetables. He didn’t go over to give you a kiss like you were accustomed to, instead he kicked the trash can.
“I don’t know.” He ran his hand through his hair. “It’s possible I guess.”
“What’s possible? Use your words.”
“That, that I left my wallet on the subway!”
“How- Why would you leave your wallet on the subway?”
“I don’t know! That’s not like me. I don’t forget things!”
“Well you did today Gatsby.”
“Gatsby. God woman, why do you insist on calling me Gatsby?”
“God, why do you call me ‘woman’! For christ's sake Gatsby you left your wallet on the subway. No big deal. Just call, cancel your cards, and get a new one. People lose wallets all the time.”
“Yes but not Gatsby Welles! I don't forget things.”
“For heaven's sake Tabbie, relax! Sit down, have a glass of wine. Let’s go out to Le Corbeau tonight, like we used to. We can sit in one of those leather couches in the back with the cigarette ashes and listen to the piano while we gaze into each other’s eyes. Doesn’t that sound nice.”
His eyebrows lowered down from his face and his cheeks began to glow. Here came the Gatsby humor you were well acquainted with. “But you're forgetting something darling: I don’t have my wallet.”
“You might be a successful businessman, but don’t you forget: I was successful too.”
“Oh, how could I forget? With a voice like that? Darling you were an angel. Listening to you sing was like seeing light for the first time. I fell in love before I even spoke a word to you.” He moved in to engulf you in his arms, pulling you in from behind.
“You tell me this every day.”
“And good for you to remember it. I don’t deserve you my love. I could live a thousand lives and never come close to your purity.”
“My love you need look only in the mirror.”
“You flatter me.”
“You flatter yourself.”
“I know you didn’t mean that my bird.”
“If I am a bird then your arms are my cage and yet I sit content within.”
“I have a better idea. Why don’t we take a walk in the park? The city is so beautiful in the rain.”
“So long as we can stop underneath the clock tower and dance to its song.” You pressed your lips gently onto his.
“Will you sing for me?”
You sat down at the piano in the great room. You stretched your fingers before letting them dance over the keys.
Someday, when I'm awfully low, When the world is cold, I will feel a glow just thinking of you, And the way you look tonight
Yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm, And your cheeks so soft, There is nothing for me but to love you, And the way you look tonight
With each word your tenderness grows, Tearin' my fear apart, And that laugh wrinkles your nose, Touches my foolish heart
Lovely, never, never change, Keep that breathless charm, Won't you please arrange it?, 'Cause I love you, A-just the way you look tonight
And that laugh that wrinkles your nose, It touches my foolish heart
Lovely, don't you ever change, Keep that breathless charm, Won't you please arrange it?, 'Cause I love you, A-just the way you look tonight
Mm-mm, mm-mm, Just the way you look tonight
Gatsby had joined you at the piano bench while you played. He said nothing during the course of your performance but at its close, he lifted your hand from its ending note and brought it to his lips. “Darling, oh my darling, it’s you who looks beautiful.”
You weren’t sure what it was, but something about Regulus Arcturus Black had bewitched you - mind, body, and soul. Maybe it was the way his long raven black hair framed his face, how his hazel eyes never seemed to be the same color, or the innocent smile that occasionally slipped out at a joke, but he enchanted you.
He would sometimes speak French to you, when the two of you lounged in a leather chair in the common room, or watching the sunset by the lake. You didn’t understand exactly what he was saying, but it always brought butterflies to your stomach and heat to your cheeks and core.
“Je ne supporte pas d'être loin de toi. Tiens-moi dans tes bras jusqu'à ce que nous rendions notre dernier souffle ensemble.” Regulus told you one night as you sat together on some steps you had found in a deserted part of the castle. He pulled you in for a long, passionate kiss.
“Regulus. I don’t speak French.” You said, pulling away. “Can you please, pretty please tell me what that means?”
“If I told you, it would ruin all the fun.” He replied, moving to suck on your neck before whispering, “J'aime te voir mouillé et nécessiteux de mes seuls mots.”
You moved away from his hold on you and stuck out your lower lip. “Fine. I’ll just learn Russian or some other language you don’t know and call you a tosser behind your back.”
“That’s not fair. I don’t say shite about you.”
“I just want to know what it means.”
“How about I show you.” He offered. Once he saw that you didn’t refuse, he got to work.
He gripped your jaw and pulled you in for a kiss. Gently: you could tell he was suppressing his urges. Instead he took his time, gradually increasing the intensity, only lightly touching you until it was unbearable. You wanted his hands everywhere, your hands everywhere.
You initiated the next step, sliding underneath his jumper so you could feel the strong muscles of his back. He took this as an invitation to do the same. Regulus played with the strap of your bra, teasing, taking his time.
You finally gave up and pulled your shirt and bra off so that you were bare chested before him. Again, he copied, and removed his shirt. The dim light contoured his slim build and his muscles glistened alluringly.
At the sight of seeing you shirtless, Regulus seemed to lose the delicate control he had over himself and his desires. He pulled you on top of him so that you were positioned over the bulge of his pants. His hips grinded into yours as he continued kissing you, deeper and needier. You began to feel sticky, your mind beginning to want things.
“Let me make you feel good.” He promised, pulling you off. He positioned your thighs open in front of him and fished your panties out from under your skirt. A moan escaped you as his tongue began to dance around your clit.
Your fingers found their way into Regulus’s hair, and you gripped and pulled with every wave that passed over you. Building and growing into a mountain that you were eager to have crumble over you. He moaned along with you as your orgasm erupted, fingers digging into his hair. He kept moving his tongue as you rode out your high until finally his head poked up from under you.
“You taste amazing, darling.” He smiled, and you met his lips in a kiss. “Can I please fuck you?”
He rested you back down on the steps and unzipped his trousers, positioning himself in front of you. He began slowly, cautiously moving in and out of you. You saw his eyes shut tight and his lips pursed together as he tried not to fold instantly.
With skill, he easily found the magical spot inside of you, and your back arched in response. “Fuck. Regulus.”
“You like that, darling?” And he sped up. None of his touches on your body were too harsh. Other times he had left bruises on you, but today he was careful. The increases in intensity were directly on your g-spot, the pleasure building up once again.
After only a short time, you felt the high approaching. “Regulus, I’m going-”
You weren’t even able to finish your sentence before a moan leapt out of your throat. Regulus moved one of his hands to your clit. With one small scream, your second orgasm crashed down on you. Your cunt tightened around Regulus and you felt him come inside of you, cock twitching. He collapsed on your chest, as you both rode the highs together.
After the last twitch your body gave, you and Regulus shared another kiss, this time, light and soft.
“Je t'aime à la folie.”
“I still don’t speak French.” You laughed, and buried your head in his chest.
there should be an oscar category called “movie my dad completed without falling asleep on the couch” and it’s more prestigious and contentious than best picture
