(Incandescent)...Multifandom Imagines

Preference || Multifandom

They wake up and you aren't in bed

Bucky Barnes
Bucky's used to waking up at odd hours, remnants of a soldier's reflexes that never quite left, but today he's startled when his hand falls onto the cold, empty side of the bed. "Y/N?" he mumbles, squinting around the room as he pushes himself up, sleep tousling his hair. Not getting an answer, he shuffles out of bed, pulling on a shirt as he heads toward the kitchen, and there you are, framed by the soft light of early morning as you lean over the stove. "Are you making pancakes?" he asks, voice laced with relief and curiosity. You glance back with a grin, flipping one. "Thought I'd surprise you. Figured you'd sleep in for once." He lets out a soft chuckle, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. "Kinda hard to do that when you're not there, doll," he murmurs, his fingers tracing gentle circles on your hips. You laugh and hand him a spatula, teasing, "Maybe you can help, soldier." He obliges, flipping a pancake with exaggerated focus. "I'm better with missions, you know," he jokes. You bump him with your hip and whisper, "This is a mission: Operation Perfect Pancakes." Bucky just grins and pulls you close, stealing a taste of your syrupy lips before you finish.

Loki Laufeyson
Loki's a light sleeper, always has been, so the absence of your warmth is noticed almost immediately. He stretches his hand across the bed, fingertips brushing cold sheets, and he frowns, sitting up with a quiet exhale. "Y/N?" His voice is calm but sharp as he swings his legs out of bed, already scanning the room. When he doesn't find you in the usual places, he lets out a long, deliberate sigh. "If this is one of your mischiefs, I'm hardly amused." He steps into the dimly lit living room, catching sight of you with your face illuminated by the flickering glow of a book light. You're curled up on the couch, totally engrossed in a book. "Couldn't sleep," you say apologetically, noticing his furrowed brow. "But don't look at me like that." Loki raises an eyebrow, striding over to sit beside you. "And here I thought I was the insomniac of this arrangement." You laugh softly, folding the book closed as he rests a possessive arm around your shoulders, pulling you against him. "What's so fascinating that it's worth the price of your sleep?" he asks, peering over at the book cover. "Just something about Asgard," you say teasingly, smiling as he narrows his eyes playfully. "You're incorrigible," he mutters, pressing a kiss to your forehead before standing. "But if you must lose sleep, at least allow me to join you." He holds out a hand, leading you back to bed, where he insists on reading beside you, arm never leaving your waist.

Tony Stark:
When Tony wakes up, the absence of your body beside him is immediately noticeable—after all, he likes having you there more than he'd ever admit out loud. His fingers brush the empty sheets, and he opens his eyes, searching the room. "Where'd you go, sweetheart?" he calls out with a mix of amusement and annoyance. With a groggy sigh, he rolls out of bed, grabs his robe, and heads downstairs, knowing you'll likely be in the lab. Sure enough, there you are, bent over a table of blueprints. "You know, I had a dream that I woke up with you in bed," he teases, stepping closer. You look up, an apologetic smile lighting up your face. "Couldn't sleep, and then I had an idea, so I thought I'd just come down here." He sighs, wrapping his arms around you from behind, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Your ideas can wait till after 7 a.m., you know." You lean back against him with a soft laugh. "And who set that rule, exactly?" He smirks. "Stark Industries' finest," he says smugly, kissing the top of your head. "Now come on, genius; you can show me your brilliant idea after breakfast." He takes your hand, leading you back upstairs, and you let him—knowing, of course, that you'll be back to the lab before noon, whether he likes it or not.

Peter Parker:
Peter's eyes flutter open to the quiet hum of the city and a noticeable absence beside him. He sits up quickly, rubbing his eyes and calling softly, "Y/N?" No response. Throwing off the blanket, he hops out of bed, feeling a sudden worry tug at his chest—he's almost ready to throw on his suit and head out to find you. But then he hears the faint sound of music and follows it to the kitchen, where you're happily making breakfast, oblivious to his frantic search. "There you are!" he breathes out in relief, and you spin around, spatula in hand, surprised but delighted to see him up. "Peter! I was just making some breakfast." He wraps his arms around you, his head falling to your shoulder. "I thought... I don't know, I thought you got taken or something." You giggle, turning in his arms to give him a quick kiss. "Taken? By my scrambled eggs?" He chuckles sheepishly, face flushing, and nudges you playfully. "Hey, it's possible! You'd be amazed how many times Aunt May's waffles nearly killed me." You laugh, handing him a plate of eggs, and he takes it with a grateful grin. "Guess I'll have to guard you more closely, huh?" he teases, sliding his arm around your waist as he leans against the counter, refusing to let you go.