I'm Cookie! I don't do very much, but when I do, you will find me in the cervices studying my head off in college work, scrolling online to peak (OMORI, Sally Face, Undertale/Deltarune, KOG, and so much more...check out my carrd eueueu), or jamming out to some sick tunes (Machine Girl fans PLEASE hit me up).
Please DNI if you are -17 or 21+ (19 and not comfortable with ppl that age int), or if you are a generally disrespectful person (please check my carrd for more on int and dni lists)!!!!
I hope to be able to write a ton on here and just blab about my day, maybe spark a fan fic writing career for me and my twins. I will be mostly posting blogs and writing so, uh stay tuned!! I'll post under #cookiewrites or #cookiesblogs for the most part, so check those outttt
"Sebek! Do you know anything about crocodiles? Because I wanna try brushing their scales and since your a half-fae, maybe you'd know something?"
> romantic interaction with Sebek, please!
Have a nice day/night!
Thanks you too!
This is my first interaction rq so I hope I didn't do too badly ;;
Due to the request being romantic imma make Reader S/O for simplicity sake-
Apologies if Sebek is OOC
“Crocodiles you say?” The half fae repeated your question keeping his posture still. His arms locked behind his back looking towards at your direction with a steady gaze as his brows narrowed.
“Of course I do!” Sebek exclaimed rather proudly. “As a crocodile fae I am obligated to know so!”
“...You'd like to..?” He trailed off once he heard your request. You? A mere human, wanting to brush the scales of a crocodile that can literally devour a human less than minutes.
“That's some bravery you have there, but it's too dangerous for someone like you to do so!” He warned his S/O before clearing his throat as the heat on his cheeks began to grow pink.
“..Although perhaps my hair could suffice since they are like crocodile scales..”
38 “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” tonyclint please?
“Got some bad guys up here,” comes the call.
Tony grunts as he takes another hit. “How many bad guys?”
Clint’s voice is strained. “Uh...thirty-seven?”
“That’s specific.”
“I’m specifically guessing.”
“That—” He stops for a moment, distracted by the AIM thug trying to take him out. The fight only lasts a few minutes, and then he’s standing alone in the street, out of breath and tired as hell.
“That doesn’t make sense,” he says. “How can you specifically guess? Don’t they cancel each other out?”
No answer. Tony gives it ten seconds, then takes off, already ordering JARVIS to give him Clint’s location. Turns out he doesn’t need it, though—there’s a blob of yellow suits on the roof where Tony had set him down.
“Thirty-seven was a generous specific guess,” he says, circling. He doesn’t see Clint in there anywhere, and his heart starts to beat a little faster.
“I count fifty, sir.”
“Well, let’s go give him a hand.”
Tony doesn’t give them a chance to react. He lands smack dab in the middle of the group and starts shooting, repulsor blasts flying with impunity. One of the AIM guys raises a nasty-looking gun at him, but before he can fire, an arrow suddenly knocks it from his hand. The guy falls backwards, and Tony looks to his left to see Clint. He’s beaten and bleeding, and he looks woozy as hell. He’s still deadly accurate, though, firing off multiple arrows without a second glance as he focuses on Tony, examining the various dents in his armor.
God, Tony loves him.
“Welcome to the party,” Clint says. “Meet my thirty-seven new friends.”
“I don’t like them,” Tony says, nailing another with a repulsor blast. “They’re not invited to dinner.”
“Good.”
They’re good together, always have been, and it only takes them ten minutes to clear the rooftop. Clint chases the last one off with an arrow, then stands where he is, breathing heavily. He must be hurting badly, Tony thinks. Usually he’d be running after them, demanding to finish the fight.
“Why did they all come after you?” he asks, and Clint shrugs.
“Dunno.” He sways a little. “Think they wanted me for something. Probably nothing good.”
“You don’t know that,” Tony says, watching him with concern. “Maybe they needed a thirty-eighth player for a giant game of freeze tag.”
Clint lets out a hollow, exhausted laugh. “Maybe,” he says, and then he starts to fall.
Tony’s there in an instant, catching him. “Hey,” he says, easing him down to the ground. “Hey. Clint. Look at me.”
Clint blinks awake after a moment, and Tony breathes a sigh of relief as he flips up his faceplate. “Hi,” he says. “We’re gonna sit here for a second, okay?” He comms Natasha, tells her what’s going on.
“Be there in five,” she says, and cuts the line.
Clint looks confused. “What...what happened?”
“You fainted. Straight into my arms.” Tony grins. “You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”
Clint smiles faintly. “Your fault, Prince Charming. You just looked too good, fighting those assholes.”
“You see me acting badass and you swoon, huh? That’s alright. I know.” He looks up, hearing the sound of a Quinjet approaching. “You know that makes you a damsel in distress, right? Which means I’m honor-bound to take you home, get you cleaned up, and ply you with food and drink until you feel better.”
The smile gets a little wider, a little more sincere. “I’d like that,” Clint says softly, and reaches up, pressing a clumsy hand to Tony’s jaw. “Sounds like a damn good plan.”
Some slightly adult content at the very end, nothing crazy though
As she approached the very same cell Benvolio had occupied just days before, Rosaline shuddered and had to remind herself that he was safe back at House Montague. He no longer awaited execution...he’d been cleared of all accusations leveled against him. She’d seen him back to his home...his villa now, though the transfer of title and power had not yet been formally made...before excusing herself under the guise of seeing her sister. She would see Livia...after making this brief stop first.
Damiano Montague looked up as the guard led her to him. The same guard, she noted, that she’d bribed to allow her to see his nephew. “L-Lady Rosaline! Thank the Lord you have come, perhaps you will be able to speak sense to Benvolio! The Prince will surely execute me if he does not rescind his accusations!”
Fury burned her cheeks, and Rosaline took a calming breath before speaking. “Your nephew is a good and honorable man, Signor Montague.” He flinched at the informal title...one small victory. “Despite his upbringing, he grew into a kind and gentle soul...seeking to love and be loved above all else. He would far sooner offer his hand to help someone up than raise it to harm even an enemy. He is the best man I know...despite you.” The man, staring at her dumbfounded, opened his mouth to speak, but Rosaline silenced him with a glare. “I will never hope to understand how you could have deprived a hurting boy affection, security...love. I cannot fathom how you justified to yourself abusing him day after day. I am sure I will never know the true extent of what you did to him...and yet.” An affectionate smile curled her lips. “And yet, he would not see you dead. Your nephew requested that the Prince stay your execution...that he allow you to live out your days in this prison. In spite of all the grief you brought to him, he refuses to see the last of his blood killed. Make no mistake, though, Damiano.” She stepped closer to his cell, all pretense of nicety gone in an instant. “So long as there is breath in my body, I will do whatever it takes to ensure he does not suffer another moment by your doing. You failed in every attempt to break him; instead, he became the Lord your House truly deserves...he became the man I imagine his father would have raised him to be.” Her proud smirk left Damiano withering before her. “I suppose that means you have failed in every way...even the murder of your brother could not hinder his influence on his rightful heir. And where his blood failed him day after day, I will honor your nephew with the love and devotion he so desperately deserves. He will have the family you tried to take from him, and he will lead House Montague to a greatness that you could never have hoped to achieve. Goodbye, Singor. You shall not see either of us again. May God have mercy on your soul.”
Before Damiano could gather his wits to form a reply, Rosaline turned and left the dungeon without a second glance. She knew there was a chance that Benvolio would be displeased with her visit to his uncle, but she could not bring herself to care; if anyone deserved a champion, it was him, and Rosaline would fill that role for the rest of her life. Every word she’d spoken was true, though he would never speak most of them on his own behalf.
By the time Rosaline made it out of the dungeon and to House Capulet, Livia had gone off in search of her sister, to House Montague according to their uncle’s new steward. With an affectionate grin, Rosaline directed the carriage to follow after Livia and hoped that her loved ones would not panic upon realizing that she did not make it to her destination.
“Mauricio, is my sister here?”
The Montague steward bowed to her respectfully, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “Yes, milady. One of the men stationed at the Prince’s dungeon reported that you had stopped there before returning to House Capulet...he arrived moments before Lady Livia, so she chose to wait here for your return.”
Rosaline chuckled softly. “Well, it is better that they know I am alive, I suppose….thank you, Mauricio. Is he where I left him?” The steward nodded, and bowed to her again as she excused herself. The Capulet made her way to the library...one he’d told her had been off-limits to him while his uncle ran the House, but one that had the best lighting for his sketchwork. She’d been unspeakably proud of him for claiming the space for the passion his uncle had tried so hard to smother, and secretly hoped that someday they might share quiet moments together there. As she approached the room, the voices of the two most important people in her life drifted to her, and Rosaline could not help but hesitate and listen.
“I cannot help but feel like a fool for trusting him,” Livia murmured bitterly. Oh, what Rosaline wouldn’t give for her sister to return to the innocence she’d known before Paris fell into her life.
“For all his crimes and faults, milady...Count Paris truly loved you to the best of his ability. He meant to keep you safe...and to give you the life of a Princess...because he cherished the light and love in your heart. I pray that you may find some comfort in that; and I pray that you might forgive me for taking his life.”
“F-forgive you? My lord, you saved Verona...you brought us peace!”
“I also made you a widow, milady...my actions caused you great pain,” Benvolio pointed out. Tears filled Rosaline’s eyes at the grief in his voice, and she could bear it no longer. As she stepped into the doorway, though, she watched Livia wrap her arms around his neck. The shock was clear on his face, but he only hesitated for a moment before returning the embrace whole-heartedly. A single tear slid down his cheek, and Benvolio squeezed his eyes shut
“You have done more for my sister and me than we shall ever be capable of repaying. Whether he loved me or not, Paris was not a good man...you freed me from what I am sure would have been a truly difficult life.”
“It is what true family does,” Rosaline whispered as she stepped into the room. Benvolio’s eyes turned to her in surprise, exasperation warring with relief in their depths. “It warms my heart to see you bonding...truly. In light of all that has happened, I feared it would influence your views of one another.”
“My wayward sister returns!” Livia exclaimed with exaggerated surprise as she drew away from Benvolio.
“I was not wayward, Livia, I was-”
“Making an unannounced visit to the dungeon, yes...it has been a habit of yours of late.” The smirk that he was failing to conceal gave her reassurance that he was not angry with her.
“One that I have no intention of repeating, my lord, so you would do well to keep yourself out of trouble for awhile, hmm?”
Benvolio’s withering look brought a smile to Rosaline’s face, and she stepped further into the room to hug her sister. “I shall do my best, beloved, though you and I know all too well how little that tends to matter in this city.”
“Beloved?” Livia echoed, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. Rosaline felt her cheeks warm and bit her lip. As she stepped around her sister, peace settled her heart. Benvolio canted his head, and she knew without a doubt she’d made the right choice. The tenderness and affection staring back at her promised that he would follow her lead. The gentle touch at her waist assured that he would stay by her side, come what may. She settled against his side comfortably, facing Livia with a confidence that could only come from the man holding her.
“Aye...beloved. Livia-”
“You need not explain anything to me, sweet sister...I can see all that I need to know.” She smiled to both of them and ducked gracefully out of the room. Rosaline couldn’t help but giggle, turning and pressing her face into Benvolio’s neck. His own chuckle rumbled in his chest, and his smile pressed into her hair.
“It feels so strange,” she whispered against his skin, earning her a shudder in response.
“What is that?” he murmured, twirling a curl around his finger with a lazy smile on his face. Rosaline reached up and traced it, empowered in the knowledge that she was the cause of the most relaxed, contented smile she’d ever seen grace his handsome face.
“To truly mean it when I call you beloved. To tell my sister that you are my beloved.” Her hand settled over his cheek and drew his face closer to hers.
“And if I were to truly mean it when I call you fiancee?” She drew back just enough to meet his eyes. His lazy smile had transformed into his most charming, hopeful grin, and she knew she was lost for him. With the hand that had been in her hair, Benvolio reached into his doublet and pulled out a beautiful ruby ring. “This belonged to my mother...so what do you say, Capulet? Will you willingly bind yourself to a Montague?”
“Not a Montague, Montague…” Question flickered in his eyes for an instant, before understanding dawned in his eyes and then he was beaming at her. The hand on his jaw slid into his hair, and drew him down once more until her lips barely brushed against his. “You.”
This kiss was far different from the ones they’d shared in the past. All reservation vanished, and Benvolio was possessing her very soul. His fingers dug into her flesh, his tongue stroked into her mouth and left her weak-kneed. Carefully, Benvolio eased her backwards until her thighs pressed into something...a desk, she realized, when she reached out to feel the surface. With a smirk, she broke the kiss so that she could sit atop it and watch him through her lashes. He surprised her by drawing her left hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to the ring finger. Blue eyes held her entranced as he slid his mother’s ring over her knuckle.
“My beloved...my fiancee.” Benvolio guided her hand back to the desk, and did the same with her other hand. Strong, sure fingers carded through her curls and guided her head back. Rosaline wasn’t sure what he was doing, but she was pliant to his touch; not even Escalus had garnered such unconditional trust, and she couldn’t help the thrill of excitement knowing they would not be interrupted this time. Her breath escaped her in an airy sigh when he latched onto her throat and sucked gently. The wet heat of his tongue followed, and Rosaline reached up to cradle the back of his head.
“Ah ah,” he chastised against her skin, the puff of breath across her damp skin making her shiver. Teeth nipped at her skin and drew a whine, but he didn’t relent. Benvolio pressed her hand against the desk once more and only withdrew when he was sure that she would leave it there. “Please, my love...no touching.” The nod she gave may have seemed somewhat desperate, but she could not bring herself to care; particularly when he resumed his work. The further down her neck he moved, the closer to her chest, the farther back Rosaline leaned. Benvolio chuckled when she adjusted her hands and in turn arched her chest towards him, and he hesitated when his lips found her pulse. “You are exquisite, Capulet...when we kissed in the dungeon, I dared not hope that it was anything more than goodbye. Yet here we are, our lives truly our own for the first time. When we were first bound by the Prince’s decree, I could not have dreamed that you would give yourself to me, that I would do the same...that I would be the cause for your racing heartbeat. I love you, Rosaline.”
“And I you, Benvolio...but if you would, milord…” He distracted her for a moment, nuzzling his nose against hers affectionately. “I would rather make the most of this time without words, if we-” He swallowed her giggles in a possessive kiss, fingers tightening in her hair and drawing a low moan that had him grinning wickedly.
“Of course, milady...as you wish.” Rosaline raised a curious brow at him as his hands moved down her body, bold and steady as they moved along the skirt of her dress over her hips, only stopping once they reached her knees. Despite the confidence he exuded, Benvolio’s eyes searched hers, waiting for permission. Warmth and affection bloomed in her chest, and she nodded. His gaze snapped to her mouth when her teeth sank into her bottom lip, and his fingers fisted in her dress.
With considerable visible effort to rein in his enthusiasm, Benvolio drew her skirt up inch by torturous inch. When Rosaline clenched her own fists in frustration and dropped her head back, he took the opportunity to return his attention to the heated skin of her chest and shoulders. Once her skirts were over her knees, featherlight touches ignited fire along her thighs and left her gasping for breath. She curled against him, pressing her temple against his jaw. “Ben…”
“What was it you said about words, sweet Rosaline?” His touch became more sure, and suddenly she didn’t know which way was up. She could only follow his guidance as he nudged her knees open with his own, could only comply when his hands took hold of her hips and scooted her closer to the edge of the desk...could only hiss a breath through her teeth when the movement brought them flush against one another. Without the layers of her dress acting as a barrier, the new, intense friction threatened to drown her. Desperate for a moment to reorient herself, Rosaline squeezed Benvolio’s bicep, and was grateful when he understood what she needed immediately. “Are you alright?”
“Oh, yes,” she breathed, and then rolled her eyes at the smug pride that glinted in his eyes. “I was simply...caught off guard.”
“Mmm,” Benvolio hummed, arrogance melting into affection as his hands came up to frame her face. He pressed gentle kisses to her forehead, cheeks and nose before returning to her lips. “It can certainly be overwhelming when you experience it for the first time. Would you like to stop?” Where she expected teasing, Rosaline only read genuine concern, and all of her hesitation dissipated.
Rather than responding, she released his arm to brace herself on the desk again. Benvolio canted his head, a slow grin brightening his handsome features with a look that she could only describe as awe, as she curled her legs around his hips and hooked her ankles together. This time, when his hands dropped to her hips once more and took firm hold, he pulled her against him slowly, intentionally, easing the friction to something deliciously sweet. Warmth pooled between her legs, a smoldering ember stoked with each touch. His lips found the slope of her shoulder, and a moan vibrated against her skin.
Despite their difference in experience, Rosaline felt somehow empowered by the knowledge that he was just as affected as her. Leaning her weight into her arms, Rosaline allowed her body to move with his; as in learning a new dance, she closed her eyes and awaited his lead, responding to the give and take, push and pull of his hands and his hips. When she found the rhythm of his movements and arched up into him in perfect time, an arm locked around her waist and teeth bit down into her shoulder, and Rosaline gave a soft cry of surprise.
Benvolio’s weight pressed against her chest, and he pressed kisses against her reddened skin as if in apology, but still he did not let her go. He took a step backwards, out of the cage of her legs and creating space between them that Rosaline ached to erase, but his arm remained firmly around her. “Forgive me, my love...if we do not stop now…”
“And yet I find myself terribly tempted to plead we continue,” Rosaline confessed breathlessly. His eyes closed and his jaw clenched at her words, and she immediately reached out to stroke his face. “You are a far better man than you believe yourself to be.” One hand moved down to his side, lifting his shirt to check the bandages there. “I thank God for returning you to me, for protecting you through all of this, and for bringing us together despite ourselves. How do you feel?”
“Well enough to marry my beautiful bride as soon as the Prince will allow,” he growled in her ear, stoking the embers inside her once more. She giggled and pressed him back far enough to see his face. “I mean it, Rosaline...if he agrees, I will marry you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow is so dreadfully far away, milord…”
Benvolio bit his lip with an affectionate grin and brushed a stray curl from her face. “Would you have me fetch him now? Say the word, milady, and I shall.”
Rosaline giggled, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Benvolio’s own arms held her around her back, and he turned to ease her off of the desk and onto her feet. In that moment she felt safer than she could ever remember. His warmth, his strength, his scent all wrapped around her like a blanket, and the world around them fell away. “Tomorrow,” she breathed contentedly. “For today, my love, simply hold me.”
When you’re really kinda proud of a one-shot you’re writing and can’t wait to post it...except it won’t make complete sense to the readers without another part that is set before it...and now you’re sad that you’re not going to be able to post a new shot tonight :(
Hello, can I request a scenario where Leona hears his crush and close friend (the reader) getting a confession from Malleus. She rejects her, but maybe Leona didn’t listen so far and is now avoiding her. Is this okay to request? I hopw you will do it, but no hard feelings if you don’t. Don’t overwork yourself :)
Oya I got my first request and it's an interesting one! 👀👀👀
But yeah it's alright~!
I'm so sorry for the wait! This took longer to write than what I thought, and was quite busy T_T
Apologies if the characters are OOC!
Leona x Fem! Reader x Malleus
Today was an awfully quiet Saturday in Night Raven College. A yawned escaped from the dorm leader of Savanaclaw's mouth. He was on his way back to his dorm from the botanical garden. Passing the courtyard, his eyes gaze on two people under a tree and his ears twitched upon hearing a phrase he wasn't pleased to hear.
"I did felt like I've met you once upon a dream before, Child of Man."
Curiousity bloomed inside of him as he hid behind another tree near them. His tail flicked of anticipation waiting for his long time secret crush's answer.
"Once upon a dream?" [Reader] repeated with a confused tone, to which Malleus nodded with a gentle smile.
"We were in a forest having a picnic like the one time we ever had." He reminded, making [Reader]'s eyes gleam and widened.
"Really? That's adorable!"
Malleus laughed lightly at her reaction, before clearing his throat.
"So, would you be interested to be my partner, Child of man?" He popped the question.
The lion behind the tree couldn't take it anymore, he let out a quiet yet ferocious growl under his breath and immediately left the area. Leona didn't want to be questioned why so he sneakily made his way out of the courtyard and decided to use another route to get to the hall of mirrors.
A couple of weeks passby ever since that day, [Reader] did took notice that Leona was avoiding her every time she tried talking to him. It's been happening too many times that she's quite fed up with it.
She was pacing around the hall of mirrors thinking if she should confront Leona about it. Surely if they were good friends he'd tell her what's wrong, but at the same time [Reader] knows that he isn't that type of person or beastman.
[Reader] took a deep breath, made her choice and jumped into the Savanaclaw dorm mirror. Once she arrived at the dorm, she was greeted by none other than the members.
"Well well lookie here, a lost trespasser." Savanaclaw Resident A crossed his arms, a smirk was written across his face.
"We weren't expecting any visitors, so whatcha doing here?" Savanaclaw Resident B asked, but his tone didn't sound welcoming at all.
"I'm just-"
"Oi, leave the herbivore alone." A deep familiar voice cut [Reader] off.
"Leona!" Both residence said together in surprised.
"Just let her be. Now scram." Leona bared his fangs with a low growl, with that the two Savanaclaw members ran away from him. Leona heaved a heavy and lazy sigh before shoving his hands into his pockets and began to walk away.
"L-Leona! Wait!" [Reader] extended her hand catching up to him.
"What?" He grumbled picking up the pace.
"S-Slow down! I just want to talk!" [Reader] pleaded picking up her pace as well. She managed to get a grab on his arm to which Leona swatted away as gently as possible.
"Why are you avoiding me?!"
That caused a pause of silence between the two individuals, Leona turned back towards her with a cold stare.
"I'm not." He simply answered.
"You've been acting off for the past couple of days.. Is there something wrong?"
"Tch, nothing's wrong."
Her lips curved into frown, taking the answer as a lie.
"Leona.."
"I told you herbivore, I'm fine." He grumbled placing a hand on his forehead. "I'm just in a hurry, I need to go."
[Reader] took the idea as he had a dorm meeting and he wasn't in the mood for it. She took a deep breath cracking a weak smile.
"A-alright.. I won't bother you." She said turning from his back walking away from him.
Leona watched her before turning his head away. Gritting teeth, he stormed out of the area to go back to his room. Was the choice he made right? He avoided her for more than just one reason. Upset, but to her? No, [Reader]'s supposed to be allowed to make her own choice on who she loves. At Malleus? Slightly from stealing his crush away.
At himself? Yes, he does secretly wished that he confessed beforehand when he got the opportunity to.
“Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?” SamBucky or Winterhawk. Either will work. :)
It becomes a game, after a while. Like pin the tail on the donkey, except it’s Make The Winter Soldier Smile. More fun, and also significantly more dangerous.
“I’m gonna win,” Clint boasts. “He likes me.”
This actually might be true, Sam thinks, but he doesn’t say that. Clint doesn’t need anyone else to boost his ego.
“You all need to leave him alone,” Steve says. “Stop betting on this.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re losing,” Clint points out, and Sam hides his own smile as Steve splutters his way through excuses. “Anyway. I’m gonna win. I have a foolproof plan. Just you wait.”
But it’s Sam, surprisingly, who ends up alone with Bucky next. It’s not even on a mission---it’s on the roof of the tower, at three in the morning.
“The hell are you doing up here?” Sam asks as he lands. He keeps the wings open---there’s something messed up with the folding mechanism, he thinks. He needs to look at it.
Bucky eyes him for a second, and Sam half expects a “fuck off.” But then Bucky sighs and shifts, holding out his hands. There’s something white curled up in them, something white and soft and---
“Is that a cat?”
“Her name is Alpine,” Bucky says softly. “I---I bring her up here sometimes. When I can’t sleep. It helps. To sit with her. Look at the city.” The words tumble out of him, and he almost sounds afraid, like he think Sam is going to yell at him.
“Cool,” Sam says, deciding not to ask any more questions about it. Bucky will tell him if he wants. “Mind if I sit with you for a bit? Need to do some wing maintenance anyway. Don’t wanna lug these inside if they won’t fold.”
Alpine hisses at him when he steps closer, and he stops, eyeing her. He’s not a cat person, but he’s usually fairly decent with animals.
“I think she thinks you’re a bird,” Bucky says, sounding amused, and then he smiles. Small, and a little unsure, but it’s there. “A giant, terrifying bird.”
Sam stares at him. “Am I in an alternate universe, or did you just crack a smile for me?”
“For her,” Bucky says, petting the white fur. “But you can count it, if you want. Win the betting pool.”
Sam grins. “You know about that, huh?”
“Yep.”
“Sorry.”
Bucky shrugs. “Don’t be. I think it’s funny.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Bucky says, and he smiles again. It changes his whole face, makes the lines smooth out, takes some of the stress and tension away.
Sam likes it so much.
“Good,” he says dumbly, words suddenly hard to reach, and taps the Falcon suit. “Help me out of this, would you?”
Bucky’s expecting three things, after this mission—a warm bed, a decent dinner, and a long, long sleep.
So when he stumbles into his room after almost thirty-six hours of high-adrenaline, heart-pounding mission excitement, he doesn’t really know what to do about the very naked, very asleep Clint Barton in his bed.
“Hey,” he finally says, throwing a pillow. “Barton.”
It hits him in the head, and Barton snaps awake in an instant. It’s adorable, really, the way his hair is sleep-tousled, eyes still bleary from dreams. He blinks a few times, then pats around on the nightstand, fitting a hearing aid into his right ear. “Bucket,” he says, voice rough and low. “Wha’s happenin’?”
“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”
“S’my bed,” Barton says.
“No, Barton. It’s mine.” He gestures around. “This is my floor.”
“Huh?” He props himself up a little, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. Bucky watches, mildly amused despite his exhaustion. He can almost see the moment things click, the second that Barton puts together where he is.
"Fuck,” Barton says, and rolls over, making himself sit up. It’s clumsy and uncoordinated, and Bucky half wants to go over and tuck him back into bed, pull the covers over him and soothe him back to sleep. He doesn’t really care that Barton’s here—if he wasn’t so tired, a bigger part of him would be absolutely thrilled—and he honestly wouldn’t mind sleeping next to someone after a mission like that—
“Stay,” he says before he can really think about it.
Barton blinks, then reaches up and adjusts his hearing aid. “Huh?”
“Stay,” Bucky says again, a sense of certainty trickling through him. He goes to his dresser and pulls out a pair of sweatpants, tossing them in Barton’s direction. “Put these on and stay here. Sleep. It’s okay.”
Barton lets the sweatpants hit him in the face, which is also adorable. He fumbles with them a few seconds, his processing almost a visible thing, and then nods. “Okay. Right.”
They’re comically short on him—fucking height difference, why is Bucky always the short one these days?—but they fit, and as soon as they’re on, Bucky strips off his own tac gear and slides into the other side of the bed. There’s a valley of distance between them, an ocean of blanket, a chasm he’s not sure he’s allowed to cross—
Barton rolls over, flopping on top of him. “Warm,” he says, in a tone that means he’s not going anywhere for a while. Bucky would argue, but he doesn’t want to. He just adjusts him to something more comfortable, then reaches up to brush the hair from his face.
