Mac And Cheese

Mac and Cheese

Summary: Bucky takes the last box of frozen mac and cheese, takes your phone, and makes you fall in love with him. The audacity of that man.

Prompt: “This has been a very bad week and you just grabbed the last box of my favorite comfort food at the supermarket” 

Pairing: bucky x reader

a/n: i wrote this and was fully done formatting it and everything, like, 6 months ago. i didn’t post it because it’s approx. 82% nonsense but i figured why not post it now when it’s still 82% nonsense but im struggling to finish everything else. so taal, long time vegan, writes a story about mac and cheese and, listen, idk what this fic is either. can i write a fic without adding sam to it? no.

Mac and cheese. That’s all you want. Disgusting, frozen, usually-quite-mushy-if-not-microwaved-correctly mac and fucking cheese. 

The kind with the layer of cheese on top. The kind with that real elbow pasta, not rotini or penne or seashell pasta— real macaroni. The kind you try to only eat one serving size of before you eat everything in the package. The kind you always gravitate to when your eyes are stained red, swollen, and too proud to be anything other than dry.

You take the subway. You switch lines. You endure the smell of the F train during rush hour when you aren’t sure where your thigh ends and the thigh of the woman sitting beside you begins. All for that one Trader Joe’s, out of many, in Brooklyn the hipsters abandon before six because the coffee shop next door closes at five.

Your feet ache in your boots and you’re pretty sure a rock has somehow lodged itself between your toes, it’s starting to rain and you have no umbrella, you don’t think your throat has ever felt so parched. 

But you tuck your phone into your back pocket and march into that store with the hideous overhead lighting that makes your skin look like it hasn’t seen a bottle of toner in days like you’re Hades, the box of mac and cheese is Persephone, and Trader Joe’s is Mount Olympus.

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IT Rewrite || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

- Ch. 6: Friends Will Be Friends -

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fate and her abuse (2/2)

part one

TW: MENTIONS OF PAST SEXUAL/PHYSICAL/EMOTIONAL ABUSE, MENTIONS OF SEX, GRAPHIC DETAILS OF SEX, STRONG LANGUAGE, ALLUSIONS TO SELF HARM, ALLUSIONS OF MISCARRIAGES.

Summary: A woman who struggles to understand that free will must derive from selfishness, and selfishness does not breed a snake that will tempt Adam and Eve. You and Bucky. This story is about two tragic lovers split apart by ideologies, cruelty, tragedy…stripped from free-will in hopes that fate will bring them back together.

Author’s note: the reader comes to term with her reality. :)

LONGING:

He longs for you, even in his dreams.

Years have passed since your first meeting—you are now twenty-eight and him thirty. For you, a decade has passed. For him, only three.

Or did it really? Perhaps in the span of those other seven years, another had taken his place.

Bucky pushes himself into your wet heat. Your legs cage his presence, wrapped around his waist and locked behind his back. Your cunt is like a fist around his cock, wrapped so warmly and sucking him back in with every pull.

You are so gorgeous—so fucking beautiful in his eyes. He groans in your mouth, swallowing the echoes of your cries, the whimpers of his name when his hands grip the flesh of your thighs. Eyes roll back when a hard thrust slams into your g-spot. Wetness spurts out. It runs down his thighs and his balls feel heavy against your quivering skin.

He loves you; he loves you; he loves you.

Yet who is he? He? Him? Or the Asset?   The   Asset   also   loved   you   if   love   meant   sex    

But the difference lay in longing—he longed for you, within that chamber, on that chair, in a moment of clarity when he shot the president dead.

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Lover: Part 1

Peter was 16 when he met you, when he first saw you. He was 16 when he came across you in chemistry when he went to sit in his assigned seat, and instead of seeing Ned in the spot next to him, he saw you.

He approached the table slowly, almost cautiously. He didn't know if you weren’t quite aware that you were in his friends place, and he didn’t know what to say exactly. He had never seen you before, he didn't even know your name.

As he set his bag down on the table top, you whipped your head around to look at him. Peter had locked gazes with you, his deep brown eyes staring into much lighter ones. When you cracked a smile and opened your mouth to say something, Peter had leaned too far to the right, his weight on his book sent it crashing to the ground.

He got flustered and bent down to grab his book, stuttering and stumbling over his words. As he stood, he cleared his throat while setting his chemistry book down, again.

“Are you okay?” Your smile brightened as you laughed while attempting to speak, the mix of speech and your jovial voice, made Peter blush.

“Y-yeah. I'm good. Good.” He swallowed with minor difficulty, his eyebrows furrowing. “You’re uh…sitting in my friends seat though…”

Peter remembered watching you move your attention away from Peter, toward Ned and MJ, who were sitting across the class, together. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked back at his friends, and then you.

“I got told to sit here. It’s my first day.” When you spoke again, Peter glanced back down at you from where he stood.

“I'm Y/N.” You held out your hand, waiting for Peter to take it.

“P-Peter.” He shook your hand, dropping it almost too quickly. He stumbled to his seat in an uncouth manner.

“Nice to meet you Peter.” He watched you from the corner of his eye.

You were pretty, very pretty. Your eyes alone, had stolen his attention. He found himself wishing he didn't have to look away, but he didn't want to come across as creepy.

“Y-you too…”

Peter rolled over in his head, the sheets and blankets tangling around his legs as a low groan left his lips. He reached out and felt around his nightstand for the alarm clock resting on the wooden top.

When he felt the object beneath his palm, he turned the face, the numbers displayed on the clear, holographic screen were mocking him.

“Too early.” He fell onto his back, his right arm stretched over his eyes. He was not as morning person, since he met you, not since the two of you had begun a physical relationship.

“Too damn early.” Peter shift again, the mattress and bed frame groaning under his shifting weight. He had turned over to his side, his fingers giving at the sheets and empty space beside him, wishing and hoping that after 5 years, you would magically be there beside him.

He was 17 when he lost you. You had only been dating for a year, but in that year, Peter fell on love with you.

Deeply. Madly. Hopelessly.

“Good morning Peter. Would you like me to inform Miss Romanoff and Mr. Rogers that you are awake?” The voice of FRIDAY, the A.I. that Tony created and designed, echoed throughout the room.

“No.” Peter shoved his head under his pillow, closing his eyes once more.

As he started to drift in between sleep and reality, he fist the sheets in his hands, again. He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood. Peter couldn't stop thinking about you, he couldn’t stop wishing that you were here.

He missed you, he missed aunt May. He missed the two most important people in his life with every breath, every beat of his heart. His aunt, who was more of a mother, and his one great love.

“I am sensing some distress. Do you need medical attention?” FRIDAY's voice echoed once again, Peter scoffed in response.

“No FRIDAY. I’m fine.” He slowly pulled himself out of the pillow and blanket barricade he had made, sitting up on his worn bed.

He ran his fingers through his brown hair, exhaling slowly. He glanced out of the window, the sun filtering through the pane of glass, catching the surface of a clear glass cube, a hideously odd sculpture you made out of clay in art class sitting inside.

You gave it to Peter as a joke, telling him that you made it with love, but in reality if he didn't want it, you'd trash it.

Peter kept it, despite your protests that it was trash. He even kept it in a glass display box, setting it on his shelf. It may have been hideous, and it may not have been something of value to you, but to Peter it was irreplaceable.

He remembered the way you presented it to him, with clay remnants on your face from something else you were working on. You had this pathetically odd little spider sculpture in your hand, a jokester gift for him. You didn't think he would keep it, and Peter didn't think you could get any damn cuter than you were in that moment.

Peter crawled out of bed and approached the clay sculpture, lifting the glass top from the bottom. He lift the clay spider creature from the glass and turned it over in his hands.

It had been 5 years since he got this, 5 years since he was able to see you, feel you. 5 years being told to move on because moving on would help heal his wounds.

“FRIDAY play the video from December 17th, 2017.” Peter clutched the spider as he sat down on his bed, the video he requested, displayed in front of him.

As he watched the video, the memories of the day hit him like a brick wall. He was told by Steve, and by everyone in those support groups Tony made him go to, that moving on was best.

Move on. Find someone new. Move on. Go on a few dates. Move on. Get a girlfriend.

How could Peter move on? How could he pretend like you weren't the woman he loved? How could he move on from Aunt May? How could he forget everything that had happened between you all?

How could he forget your first kiss? Your first date? How could Peter forget the first time you had sex? The first time you came together?

He was a kid, Steve would say. Peter was a 17 year old kid who didn't know what love really was. He didn’t have enough experience in the world to know what kind of love was worth drying for.

Peter knew. He knew and he felt it. He felt it with you. Peter knew that what he felt for you, the kind of love he felt, was the stuff of legends. The love he felt was powerful. The kind of love that would move mountains and part seas. Peter would never love anyone as much as he loved you.

Even if he was young when he felt it, he knew. Your love was the kind of love you only get to experience once in a lifetime. It the type of love that made his entire body feel like it came to life, made his heart flutter at the simplest smile or touch.

Peter couldn't move on. Steve couldn't move on from Bucky. Clint couldn’t move on from his wife and kids. Scott couldn’t move on from Hope.

You were it, you were the one. Peter couldn't just forget that.

---

Tags List: @girllety @whatareyouhidingpeter @zbdecimation @silver-winter-wolf @spidey-moonlite @tomlolland @obookishqueen @waterspider7 @tiny-friggin-human @ksmy-99 @5sosuperntaural

Say Thank You X

Series Summary: Nearly five years have passed since Steve Rogers saves your life without so much as a thank you. When he sees you again by chance, he makes sure that he’ll never let you go and maybe teach you some manners in the process.

Series Warning: This will be a dark!Steve fic with stalking, kidnapping and manipulating as well as non-con and dub-con situations. Please don’t read it if you don’t like that sort of thing.

Chapter Warnings: talk of Stockholm Syndrome and gas lighting tactics. 

Word Count: 3.8k

AN: Whelp this one really got away from me ngl. I had intended to include so much more in this chapter yet all of a sudden I was already at 2.8k and had hardly done anything. I hope it lives up to the hype from last chapter x

I. New York ~ II. Madrid ~ III. The Apartment ~ IV. The Trip ~ V. The Basement ~ VI. The First Lesson ~ VII. The Waiting Game ~ VIII. The First Attempt ~ IX. The Darkness

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

X. The Truth

You felt cold, huddling further into the blankets as Steve started pulling on his clothes, running a shaking hand through his hair, his eyes flickering over to you every few seconds. Even with everything that he had done to you, you still wanted to comfort him. Obviously whatever was going on was freaking him out. 

You resisted the part of your brain that craved to get out of bed and wrap your arms around him, trying to calm him down. You hated that he had done this to you, made you feel distressed for him, not only because of him. You watched as he continued to dress, pulling his pants on and then his shirt and shoes before coming back to where you lay on the bed. You watched in trepidation as he pulled you into his arms, wrapping them firmly around your body. Despite how tightly he held you, you could still feel the slight tremble that resonated through his body. Something big was clearly going on. 

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CAPTIVE (1)

DARK! ADJACENT Steve x Reader

Synopsis: Hydra brings Steve and Reader together

WARNINGS: Non-Con, Dub-Con, Graphic Violence, Use of the Word Rape, Talk of Terminating a Pregnancy, Degradation, Smut, Angst, Forced Breeding

“It’s time.”

The shapeless beige gown hovered in the air for a split second until it landed on the cot. Standing you disrobed, any embarrassment at your nudity long since disappeared. 

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