#(unless you count tony yelling at steve)

[bcksbarnes]

between a dream - final

pairing: tws!bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky barnes has just found out his entire life has been a lie. that his life as the winter solider has been nothing but mind control. instead of running off after his fight with steve, he returns to the avengers tower where he trusts no one. everyone takes turn on watch, and this time it's yours.

word count: 9.2K

read the: previous chapter

a/n: thank you all for the love and support with this fic! this has been such a wonderful series to write for. i hope you all like the last chapter! + shoutout to whoever sent in this prompt

To say that Steve was angry after he found out what happened in the training room was the understatement of the year. Steve rarely got upset … unless it had to do with someone on his team getting hurt, then yeah he was pissed . 

You had been called into Steve’s office a few minutes prior, blindsided by his immediate anger. The office was more modern than the man himself, though the exposed steel beams reminded him of the industrial life in Brooklyn he once had, a personal touch from Tony. But, the floor to ceiling windows, the cool grey and blue tones, and everything feeling high tech made him itch. 

The vein that ran down his neck popped, strained from how red his face was. You had been through hell and back with Steve out there in missions, there was always a chance you’d get hurt, but for some reason this ? This seemed to tick him off.

“You could have died!” He yelled, though he didn’t mean it in a way to talk down to you, but more in a way where he was concerned for your safety. “We had one rule! One !”

Steve’s hand slams down on the table in front of you, the loud smack echoing in the room and ringing in your eardrums causing you to wince. You weren’t exactly sure how he found out about Bucky’s lapse of judgement in the training room, you certainly didn’t tell him because you knew he would act like this, you knew he would get upset.

“Goddamnit!” Steve snapped again, pinching the bridge of his nose as he breathed out your name like a curse. “We’re pulling you out of there.”

“No!” You quickly interjected, standing up from your seat so fast that you didn’t register it had fallen back until you heard the soft thud against the carpet. “No, you can’t pull me out of there. It won’t happen again.”

“I told you when we talked about this that if he did anything out of line we were pulling you out of there. Did I not make myself clear?” 

“Steve –.”

“I said, did I not make myself clear?” He cuts you off, his voice thick with emotion and anger.

Of course you remembered what Steve had said, it was the sole reason you didn’t run to tell him about Bucky’s … episode. How did he expect Bucky to come to his senses in a week? 

“You’re not pulling me out of there.” You said back, your voice cracking slightly. The anger rose in your chest; you could feel it stick to you like honey. “A week is not long enough to train anyone. One session was not enough to expect him to snap out of this. You know that.”

Steve wants to argue with you, he wants to knock some sense into you and make you see his fear. Bucky’s not well and he knows it’s hard for him to even admit that about his best friend, it was the very over complicated truth. But the way his eyebrows raise at your words tells you that he’s momentarily reconsidering. 

It was your chance to persuade him again .

“Come on, Steve. If no one took a chance on you then you wouldn’t be here.” You remind him, taking a step forward. “I was never expecting this to be easy, I know he can snap at any moment, but someone’s gotta help him. He has to trust one of us.”

Steve’s anger had seemed to simmer for a moment, his Adam's apple bobbing as he gently swallowed all his anxiety.

“And, I know my limits, I know what I can handle.”

It seems like this entire week has been you begging Steve to see your side of things. You understand his hesitancy, the way that he wanted to protect you and Bucky, but you knew that treating him like a vicious animal was only going to end up hurting him more.

“I’ll go talk to him.” You say, standing your ground. “We'll figure something out.”

Steve lets out a sigh, a silent cue that he’s been persuaded by your efforts. He knows it’s not worth the argument, because you’re going to do what you want anyway. Gesturing vaguely towards the door, Steve watched as you quickly made your way out of the office, bending down to pick up the chair you had dropped.

All you could think about on your way back to the dorm room were one very important question: how did Steve know about the incident?

You shake your head as you push open the door; the room was dark, silence lingering in the air and you could just make out Bucky’s outline under his sheets. It was comical how giant he was in comparison to the size of the bed, but you were in no laughing mood. 

Using the darkness to your advantage, you quickly got ready for bed tossing on a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt. It felt like your mind couldn’t stop thinking like it was running a million miles a minute.

How the hell were you going to try and train Bucky without him killing you?

It seemed impossible the more you thought about it because, unfortunately, Steve was right. Bucky could overpower you in every scenario. 

You didn’t even know where to begin with working with someone who is clearly in need of an intensive psych eval, which no one would be able to perform until Bucky got his temper under control … which was your job. A vicious cycle that all pointed back to you.

You approached your bed with a sinking feeling in your chest, the anxiety eating you alive as you pulled back the covers, sinking down onto the mattress. The sheets were cold from the lack of body heat, and a bit scratchy, making you more uncomfortable than you already were.

You can’t help but let out a loud sigh, your palms pushing into your eyeballs as you try to not let the weight of the last few days linger too long. 

“You’re doing that thing again.” 

The voice startles you, your hands pulling away from your face almost immediately. 

It was Bucky.

His voice was a bit muffled since he was facing the wall, his way of shutting you out, but the room soon filled with sounds of the blankets shifting as he turned on his other side to face you.

“Doing what thing ?” You asked, a frown on your features though he couldn’t see it.

“Overthinking.”

It wasn’t what you were expecting him to say, because did Bucky even know you enough to know the signs? You didn’t think so, though he would argue otherwise. Because despite how quiet and reserved he was, Bucky paid attention.

“Lucky guess.” You mumble, shaking your head. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“Yeah, and I thought you were grabbing a drink.” He says quickly, like he was waiting for a fight.

Another sigh leaves your lips, you could feel him staring at the side of your face, but refused to turn your head to meet his gaze. You could understand that he didn’t appreciate your little white lie, but deception wasn’t your motive here, you didn’t need him getting involved in this conversation with Steve.

“Steve’s right, you shouldn’t be training me anymore.” He breaks through the silence, his voice unwavering.

“What the hell do you know about Steve being right? You couldn’t stand the guy yesterday.” Your response is quick and snippy, even if your brain was telling you it sounded harsh there was no stopping you now.. You were wound up like a rubberband, and you were ready to snap.

“Isn’t that what you went to do? Go talk to Steve?” It sounds like a question he already knew the answer to.

“I’m not answering that.”

“It is, isn’t it?” He presses for more.

“Bucky, it’s not important what I went to do. Okay? Let’s drop it.”

You really weren’t in the mood to have this conversation, especially not now. 

Staring up at the ceiling, you run your hand through your hair gripping it a little tighter than normal as if you wanted to rip it out of your head. Frustration seeped into your bones at this feeling that nestled itself deep into your bones. Bucky didn’t need fixing, he needed someone to guide him and all you wanted to do was show him that he’s more than the monster inside. Kinda hard to do when the monster had already showed himself.

“I told him.” 

And there it was. The answer to the nagging question you had all night. 

A chill suddenly runs through the room, the crackling of silence lingering in the air as you let out a shaky breath. Bucky had done nothing but talk about how little he trusted Steve, but the second something went wrong in your training session he ran right over to tell him. It felt like a betrayal, a knife right to your back.

“You what ?” You ask, feeling taken aback by his admission. Sitting up in the bed and turning your head to face in his general direction, you can feel the anger clawing at your chest again.

“I said , I told him.” Bucky repeats himself as he mimics your position and sits up now, the sheet slides off his torso as he swings his legs to hang off the edge of the bed.

Maybe it wasn’t his best idea to go to Steve, but after that training session all he could think about is how easy it would have been to press a little bit harder on your back and cut off your air supply for good. 

Actually, a part of him wanted to.

The Winter Soldier did not want to stop.

It scared the fuck out of him.

“You know what happened in there could have been much worse. You’re lucky I didn’t break your neck or kill you for God’s sake.” Bucky says, his own emotion rising in his chest. He extends his arm as he talks to make his point.

“I’m a professional, Bucky!” You say back, your tone suddenly sharp. 

It was one thing to be concerned for your safety, it was another to completely undermine your entire career and ability.

“And?” He snaps now, his tone growing more agitated. “You’re not supposed to get killed in a training session!” 

“Lucky for me I didn’t!” You say.

You throw the covers off of you as you swing your legs over the bed, your feet hitting the solid ground, standing in one swift motion. 

While Bucky is still sitting the two of you are eye to eye, and despite how dark it is in the room you can both feel how tense your gazes are on one another. 

You so badly wanted to scream at him, to tell him that you were capable of handling yourself and you didn’t need him or Steve to step in and protect you. Especially not when you were supposed to be the one protecting him, helping him.

Bucky, on the other hand, wanted to shake some sense into you. It didn’t matter how trained you were, he was an unstoppable force. His brain was hardwired to kill. Point blank.

“Yeah, dumb luck.” He spits back at you. “What aren’t you understanding?” Bucky feels like he’s grasping at straws now, trying to convince you to listen.

“Don’t talk down to me like I’m a child.” You snap back at him, taking a step forward. 

It’s all bubbling in your chest, this unfamiliar feeling of anger with him. Not only did you make sure he felt safe on that first night, but you stuck your neck out for him, convinced Steve to give him a shot before they went poking and prodding with doctors.

Now all Bucky was asking you to give up? To let someone else step in? Not happening.

“I will when you stop acting like one.” 

Bucky slowly rises from the edge of the bed, his stature looms over yours in a way that still feels intimidating as it did the first time. The air is electric, crackling like lightning was about to strike, as if Zeus himself is waiting for a moment to throw the bolt.

Both of your eyes adjust to the darkness, it’s the only way either of you can make out the other's features. You can see the way his jaw is set and his nostrils flared; Bucky watches as your lips turn down into a frown, your eyebrows creased together as you refuse to back down. 

Why couldn’t you see what either of you were trying to do? 

Protect each other.

Bucky only thought about how you were the only person he could trust, and that included himself. So what was he going to do if he eventually hurt you? Or worse killed you? How would he ever look at himself again?

“You have a lot of nerve.” You growl.

Your hand coming up to poke his chest, it’s solid from the sheer mass of him, and he’s unyielding, but you poke him again to hone in on your point. Bucky does all that he can to ignore the tingling sensation that erupts through his veins at your touch, the same way he did when you touched his shoulder a few nights prior.

“You don’t know me. You know nothing about me. I’m here to help you, whether you like it or not, Bucky.”

Your voice wavers slightly again, feeling the emotional moment between you and Bucky pouring onto you. A second of silence passes allowing you to collect your thoughts and emotions, clearing your throat you’re about to continue but Bucky cuts you off.

“Fine,” he growls out, his hands curled into fists at his side. “And when I either try to kill you again or you get called to another mission that’s more important than I’ll make sure to hold back my ‘I told you so’s’.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You quip back.

Bucky opens his mouth as if to speak but he decided to shut it instead. It wasn’t worth the argument anymore. He had gotten out what he needed to say and that was that. 

He writes off these feelings that bubble deep in his gut as … confusion. He’s starting a new life, his brain is all fucked up, the anger and sadness he felt about you was confusion, that’s all. That’s all .

“Forget it.” Bucky mutters, his hands moving to run down his face as shakes his head, a piece of his hair falling in front of his eyes as he does so. He wants this conversation over with.

You don’t want to forget it. This anger lives inside of you now and it wanted to surface, you needed Bucky to understand that you weren’t giving up on him, but the words won’t come. They get stuck in your throat.

“Fine.” You manage to say instead. “I expect to see you in the training room tomorrow morning. 7am. Sharp.”

Neither of you speak as the tension dissipates leaving an air of awkwardness in its wake. The room feels like it’s spinning as the two of you quietly climb into your respective beds, turned away from each other, completely closed off and not looking forward for what was to come.

The next day was … interesting to say the least. Bucky had shown up at 6:58am to be as punctual as possible. If you weren’t going to heed his warnings then he would be prepared, a good soldier. God, he hated thinking about it that way.

You decided to pausing on sparring for the time being, instead putting him through a vigorous workout routine that included enough cardio to knock out a horse, and strength training that would make Heracles’ knees buckle. Bucky didn’t break a single sweat, which was quite impressive. 

Then came the mental aspect of all of this. You needed to push his boundaries and see how far you could go before the Winter Soldier mask slipped back on. You were trying your best to break him.

There were a few close calls during some of your sessions; one of your boxing sessions while he was doing a few rounds with the punching bag. You must have said something that triggered a memory because one second he was hitting combinations and the next second it was flying off the chain it was strung by, landing loudly against the concrete wall. 

The impact was enough to make you both stop, your jaw slacked in awe as you turned towards him. Bucky’s chest heaved heavily, his shoulders rounded as he could feel the anger coursing through his blood.

Don’t attack. Do not attack.

Those are the only words flowing through his brain. You didn’t turn on the same switch as his trigger words, but there was always that instinct in the back of his mind when his rage simmered too close to the surface.

It happened again a few sessions later, but this time while he was running on the treadmill at full speed. He could feel the itch to protect himself, to make you stop shouting things to infuriate the beast  within him. His metal arm was itching to get you to stop. But, the guilt of hurting you again is what held him back. He ran so hard and fast, his feet making loud thumping sounds on the belt that he ended up breaking the whole machine.

Bucky wouldn’t admit this to anyone but every night before he fell asleep, all he could remember was the sound of you sputtering for air as his knee dug into your back on that day that you two sparred. It ate him alive to know that he was capable of such things, it hurt even more to know how badly his brain couldn’t discern you from an enemy.

He knew you were equipped for this, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t scare the shit out of him to think of how fragile you were in comparison to him. He was a super soldier, an assassin, and as much as he wished he could assure himself that you were safe around him, it felt harder and harder every day.

Though the weeks passed quickly, you were seeing significant signs of improvement within Bucky that maybe he couldn’t see in himself. 

They weren’t all related to his training either. 

He would talk to Steve more, trying to make small talk when he saw him in the tower (though he still shied away from him when he brought up any mentions of the ‘30s, not feeling ready to delve into those memories yet). 

Or after your training sessions, he’d bring you a cup of coffee - light and sweet - exactly how you liked it; either as a way to thank you for your time or an excuse to see you again that day, the jury was still out on that.

And by the time the six month mark had passed, Bucky had seemed to be flourishing, the two of you falling into a rhythm. The mornings were filled with training, your nights spent checking in with Steve on Bucky’s progress, and any down time trying to make him feel like he’s not some prisoner locked away.

“Hey,” you said one night as you entered the dorm room, your eyes immediately falling on him. 

“Hey.” He responds back, his head tilting up to look at you. He was laying on top of the bed with his new cell phone, trying to figure out how to use the damn thing. Who invented such stupid devices? 

“Come with me.”

Bucky’s eyebrows raise at your words, and watches as you wave him over towards the door, gesturing to him to follow you. You don’t need to tell him twice. Tossing the phone onto the mattress he climbs out of bed to keep up with you.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t excited about the idea of spending more time with you. He found solace in those early morning training sessions, it was doing wonders for his mental health to not feel like he was going to snap every second. Plus the added bonus of getting your attention all to himself.

You lead Bucky down the hall to the elevator, pushing the button to the top floor. Standing shoulder to shoulder, Bucky’s gaze tries to remain in front of him on the metal doors. He so desperately wants to look over at you, to try and catch a glimpse into what you’re thinking; he barely understands his own mind, but he needs to know yours.

“Where are we going?” The hoarseness in his voice shocks him for a moment, clearing it as he flexes his metal hand. He seemed more fidgeted around you these days, like there was an itch that needed to be scratched.

“Somewhere different.” It’s vague, but it’s a response.

The elevator doors open up to a room built of glass, the warm lights lining the bar and the overhead steel beams. Hundreds of bottles of liquor line the wall and the floors are covered in a dark carpet that despite its years still looks brand new. It was something right out of Architectural Digest , a billionaire’s dream lounge room, but this wasn’t the place you wanted to take Bucky, it was only the passage, not the final destination.

“No one’s usually up here when it’s not the weekends” You explain as you lead him through the room. Bucky’s hot on your heels, never more than a few steps behind. “I figured since you probably haven’t had some fresh air since you’ve been here that it’d be nice to get outside.”

When you approach the door, all it takes is a swipe of your badge and the small beep to signal that it had unlocked. Pulling it open, you and Bucky are greeted with the balcony that overlooks the helipad landing at the tower, but more importantly the entire city right in front of you like a deck of cards. 

Bucky didn’t realize he missed the fresh air until he found himself walking past you to stand at the railing, his eyes closed, sucking in a deep breath. His lungs fill up and it feels brand new. He might not have been free from the demons, but this new found freedom had given him so much to live for. 

His hair blows softly in the wind, the night sky is dark above his head, and all you can do is stand back and watch in awe. He was so different from the night you first met him, maybe still closed off but not nearly the same person who wouldn’t eat his food in fear it was poisoned; now he was relishing in moments, enjoying his peace.

The warmth of your body standing next to him is immediately welcomed by Bucky when he hears you approach, his eyes flickering open and looking at the scene in front of him. It hits him all in that moment that he doesn’t remember the last time he took in the view? It had to be decades, maybe longer. 

“Fresh air, hm?” He asks, his arms resting on the railing in front of him.

“Are you complaining?” You can’t help but tease him a bit, it was fun to poke the bear.

“No.” He stares out ahead of him, his eyes watching the streets below, the faint sounds of car horns and people talking hit his ear despite how high up it was. “It’s nice.”

“When I was a trainee they refused to let us out of the building, scared we were going to never want to come back in.” You chuckle at the memory. “Maybe they were right.”

Bucky chuckles with you. “Yeah, I can see how tempting that is.”

“I’m sure you haven’t had much downtime in a while.”

“No, not really.” He says, shaking his head. “Maybe since the war? Probably before it. And any time I get here is full of figuring out what the next thing is going to be.” 

He speaks candidly with you because he knows he can. As much as he was trying to warm up to Steve, and he knew there was a soft spot inside of him for the man, he could be a little rough around the edges to talk to. Not that Bucky was delicate by nature, but it was different.

It takes a moment to find the courage within him before he speaks again.

“I’ve been really trying to remember who I was before all … this.” He vaguely gestures. “There’s been a lot of big gaps in my memory, but from what I can remember I was never this … this volatile man. I never felt out of control and now it feels like every second of the day I’m on the verge of some breakdown that is going to make it hard to snap out of.”

It’s wildly authentic and heartbreaking to hear Bucky’s words. You watch the side of his face carefully, you can see the way his emotions are written all over his features, the way he can feel the tightness in the back of his throat. 

“You don’t see the improvements you’re making.” You say quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe not.” He swallows a bit, his fingers tapping on the railing. “Or maybe you and Steve see something in me that’s just not there.” 

He takes a deep breath before continuing.

“I told Steve what happened on that first training session because I was terrified that if I killed one more person than I had no chance of ever recovering.” He admits, his head bows slightly before he turns to face you, his hands grip the railing a bit tighter. “ Especially if it was you.”

The admission makes your features soften, your eyes searching his face for something, you’re not entirely sure what. But all you can find is a man who is terrified, who is chipped – not broken, as fragile as a piece of porcelain. His blue eyes are a bit brighter than when he first came in, and if he looks in a certain light you’re positive that they glisten. There’s a faint scar on his forehead, a stark reminder of the pain that he inflicted when he felt like it was all too much.

“I never thought you were going to kill me.” 

Was this sentiment good enough to even explain to him how absolutely fucked up this whole situation was? This man had a kill list that was miles long, but you? You were the one he couldn’t hurt.

“That’s not the point.” His tone is firm. 

You knew it wasn’t, but what were you supposed to say?

“The point is that if something happened to you… if I did something to you…” Bucky’s voice breaks as he speaks, turning his body towards you. All the emotions were so unfamiliar he didn’t know how to handle them. “Then there would be no purpose in trying to help me. I’m too far gone - the Winter Soldier won.”

Panic settled in your chest as you watched Bucky bare his soul to you, the simple matter of fact was he was terrified, of himself, of how much he trusted you, and of the world.

“Hey, hey.” You can’t help but take a step forward, only letting a few inches in between the two of you. Your hand moves to rest on his shoulder like it did that night he had a nightmare. It amazed you how warm he was under your touch. “That’s not true. You’re not too far gone.”

All of the training sessions the two of you had together slipped into both of your minds. Bucky saw his failures, the moments he was so consumed by his instincts. You saw all his accomplishments, the moments after his failures where he pushed forward and continued doing the work.

“What if I am?”

Your eyes catch his and the both of you stand in silence. You can’t help but rub circles into his shoulder gingerly, something about the tenderness of the moment making you want nothing more than to comfort him. 

Bucky’s heart stammers in his chest at your kind touch, the only real thing that lets him know he’s alive and not in some fucked up dream. Bucky doesn’t think anyone has ever touched him so carefully before.

“Then we keep trying.” You whisper, there’s a desperation in your tone because you want him to believe you. You need him to. “We don’t stop trying until you're better.”

Would Bucky ever truly be better? He’d spent a lot of time over the last few weeks wondering about that exact question. There was a point in this recovery where he had to accept that he was a tortured soul that would not be able to ever go to bed again without seeing the faces of the innocent victims he killed. 

But you’re so convincing, your words make him feel something he hadn’t felt since the 40s when Steve found him tied down in that basement being experimented on; hopeful.

“When I sleep at night I don’t just see the people I’ve killed.” Bucky’s jaw tightens as he admits this to you. “I see all of the people who …” He can’t bring himself to say it, shaking his head. “...Who hurt me . I didn’t know what they were doing because the shit would get zapped right out of me and they’d put me on ice again.” 

Bucky swallowed his emotions, trying not to let the memories come back too clearly in that moment. He’d always wake up more and more a shell of himself than the last.

“ Torture . They’d torture me then use me as a pawn to hurt innocent people.”

“How many do you remember?”

“All of them.”

Your heart sinks in your chest at the idea that he could still hear their screams, or their begs for mercy, or worse … their last breaths. 

“I saw Steve and it was like someone punched me right in the gut, and turned back time. I saw him then I saw myself. Then I met you and I knew I had to figure this shit out.”

It’s unexpected for both of you, but Bucky brings his metal hand up to yours, wrapping it around your wrist. It’s cold against your skin, the material is smooth and polished despite the many divots that coat it. You want to run your fingers on it, to see how it moves and retracts with the heat of your touch, but he quickly snaps you out of that thought. 

Bucky watches your face carefully as he moves your hand until it rests against his cheek.

“Bucky …” Your voice is soft, his eyes closing to relish in the moment and your touch.

Your thumb caresses his cheek and he leans his head into your palm. His face is scratchy, yet exceedingly warm in contrast to the metal. He lets out a shaky breath that he didn’t know he was holding, but maybe he had always been holding it in. 

You were his comfort during these times, the only way he stopped himself from losing his goddamn mind.

Your touch reminds him of the day he found out you weren’t coming back after your first initial meeting. 

Steve had explained it was for a mission, he knew it was important, but you had been the only thing tethering him down to earth. It was hard to cope with the fact that he didn’t know when he would see you again, so he tried to stay busy, to stay out of his own head. He failed miserably.

Bucky had needed your comfort during that time, needed someone grounding him to earth, but he would settle for it now instead.

“I want to be better. I want to get better.” 

He knew this awakening was deep inside of him, this need to move forward, and now he was ready to bridge that gap. To start fresh. But below that need was another feeling, one that was not regret nor hope. No, this feeling was foreign to Bucky, an intense aching  want. For what? For love, of course. For who? Guess.

His eyes open and he doesn’t realize he’s taken a step forward until the two of you are pressed together. His hand that rests around your wrist tightens slightly because he’s afraid that if he lets go that you will slip away.

“I never thought you were coming back after that mission. Now I’m finding it really hard to let you go.” His voice is sweet like honey despite how deep it is.

A blush creeps onto your features because it seemed the soft spot you had for Bucky was now only making room for the feelings that were starting to grow. 

Your eyes swept over him taking in the fine lines by his eyes, down to the little marks he had on his cheeks. Despite being so close together in your sparring matches it had seemed like this was the first time you had really seen Bucky. Like really seen him.

“You know, you’re not allowed to say things you don’t mean.” You teased quietly.

“And who said I didn’t mean them?” He asked back.

A pair of matching smiles graces both of your features as he does. You swore for a half second you saw him gaze down at your lips, but by the time your brain had a chance to catch up he pulled your hand off of his face, intertwining your fingers together at your sides.

“We should get back inside. It’s getting cold out here.” You whisper.

That remainder of night ended in a way neither of you had expected, hands intertwined together until the very moment you two climbed into your separate beds across from each other. Bucky could feel his skin tingle at the way your fingers slide across his as you unravel from each other. He thought about it all night.

A few more months had passed, and time seemed to have flown by in a blink of an eye because it was now a one year from that day Steve had brought Bucky back to the tower, changing his life.

Bucky was determined now more than ever to get himself help; he didn’t lash out during training practices and he actually allowed Steve to set up some doctor’s appointments for him. Physicals, therapists, neurology shit; he didn’t even care at this point.

You made sure if you couldn’t be there for all his sessions that you’d at least check in with him afterwards to see how he was doing. You and Bucky had moved out of those dorm rooms, you were back in your old room - a much more spacious area that felt more like a one bedroom apartment. 

Bucky was moved back to his room as well, which happened to be at the other end of your hallway. He hated the memories that came along with being back here, the vividness of him slamming his head against the wall always made a chill run down his spine. There was still a dent where it happened. But, he was happy to have a bigger bed to sleep in and stretch his body out. 

He hated how you weren’t an arms length away anymore.

Unfortunately for him, Bucky’s heart seemed to have grown tenfold after that night on the rooftop. He had opened the floodgates and it left him tingling from head to toe. 

When there were team meetings he found himself glancing at you more than actually listening to Steve. When he saw you in the common room reading a book, he couldn’t stop himself from asking what it was about just to hear your voice.

The hardest times for him to concentrate were the sparring practices. 

Initially, Bucky had begged you not to start them up again, he was fearful that the voice would creep back and he didn’t want to have a repeat of your first time together. 

He was able to persuade you for a while, always coming up with a new excuse why it would be better to focus on something else, but eventually it was time. Bucky had to prove he was capable of doing it.

The first few practices were slow and simple, working on carefully building a rhythm and never taking it too far or letting it get too heated. In those moments, Bucky felt like there were specific ways that his body moved that felt instinctive of the Winter Soldier; he avoided those for a while.

But, as most things did as those months went by, the sparring picked up to an easier flow. It soon, to his dismay, became Bucky’s favorite way to spend time together. Not only was it the intimacy in the time together, early in the morning when the sun was still rising, it was the moment that you and Bucky were the closest, where your touches mattered. Walking a fine line between a beautiful dance of two trained professionals doing what they knew best and two people looking for something more. 

His hand would brush against your arm trying to grab you and win, not for the sake of the kill, but the sake of the competitiveness that was now inside of you. Except, it was that exact moment he touched your arms that would throw him off the attack. His brain would be all consumed by the feeling of you that made him hesitate; you used the leverage to grab his arm and flip him onto his back, your foot resting on his chest as you had effectively won.

“Oof.” He let out a puff of air again, because this happened every time.

“I swear, Buck, you’re letting me do that now.” You said to him during this practice. 

It was exceptionally early in the morning, the windows showed a dark city skyline. Neither of you had been sleeping well since you had left your shared dorm rooms, and now this felt like the best way to get out some of that pent up energy.

“You don’t get to call me that.” Bucky says, his hand on his chest as he panted. “Steve barely gets to call me that.”

It made you happy to see the way the two friends had reconnected again. Bucky had remembered so much of their time together; two estranged brothers making up for lost years. 

You chuckle as you hold out your hand to Bucky, wanting to help him up off the mat. He eyes your hand for a moment, slapping it playfully a few times; he didn’t want to get up yet. 

“I feel like I’ve earned the honor, you don’t?”

“Hmmm, let me think about it.” 

Bucky places his finger on his lips, tapping on them as he feigns being in deep thought, wanting to tease you.

“No.”

“Asshole.”

Bucky’s features soften letting a smile creep onto his face as he grabs your hand, pulling you down onto the mat so that your shoulders were touching. His head turned to face yours, the lighter feeling in his body evident by the smile that lingered on his features, so opposite of the darkness that consumed him when he had first arrived.

“I’d rather be an asshole than a killer.” He says. 

Although it’s meant to be a joke, Bucky is still walking the line with learning how to be funny again; it comes across more as awkward humor. You crack a smile though as you turn your head, your cheek resting on the mat; the least you could do was pity him.

“I still kicked your ass.” You taunt.

His hand is still holding yours, actually he maneuvers it so that he can intertwine your fingers together feeling the way they lock like puzzle pieces. If there was a time where two heart beats synced together - it would be in this moment.

“Dumb luck.” The familiar words don’t make you angry as they did the first time he used them, now they made you laugh.

“You really underestimate my abilities, Barnes.”

“I don’t.” He shrugs a bit, his thumb now tracing patterns into your skin. “I know you’re more than capable of kicking my ass. I just think you have an unfair advantage.”

“And what’s that, hm?”

“Mmmm,” Bucky hums, his eyebrow raising a bit. “It’s already an unfair advantage, now you want me to tell you? So what? You actually know what it is and use it against me even more? Not happening.”

You laugh loudly as you playfully kick his shin, biting down on your bottom lip afterwards as you try to keep your composure. Neither of you were too sure when the change in your relationship went from trying to get Bucky to a state of not losing his mind to … this but neither of you were going to complain either.

“Ow.” He squeezes your hand as he feigns the injury, gently knocking his foot into yours back.

“I should never have given you two free access to the training room.”

Steve’s voice calls out as the delayed click of the door signals his arrival. You and Bucky sit up, your fingers slip out of each other's grasps. Bucky doesn’t want to let go of you though, so he keeps his pinky pressed against the side of your hand making sure you’re right there.

Footsteps echo in the room until Steve approaches, his arms crossed over his chest, his normally tidy blonde hair damp from the shower he must have taken. Bucky flexes his metal hand as he looks up at Steve, giving him a short nod.

“Afraid we’re going to hog it?” You ask, feeling Bucky’s finger wrap around yours.

You swear in that moment your heart drops. It takes everything in your body to not let your gaze drift over to him.

“A little bit. We have a new class of trainees coming in this morning, the last thing I need is to have them find you two goofing off. We’re a serious team, you know.”

Despite how stoic Steve could be at times, and you were sure his statement was serious, there was always a bit of playfulness in his tone. 

“We didn’t think anyone would even be awake yet.” 

The clock on the opposite wall said 6:25am which was early even for you and Bucky. Steve cracks a soft smile as if he knows that the two of you would be searching for a way to be alone.

“I’m kidding .” He reiterates what you already know. “ But you two do need to leave, I need to prep the room for the recruits.”

Bucky sighs as he stands up, brushing any dust off his pants before he outstretches his hand to you. You clasp onto it, Bucky helping you up off of the ground in one swift motion. You mimic his movements and brush yourself off once you’re standing.

Your hands drop from each other, though Steve catches right away how they linger for a moment before they do. He’s not naive.

“Don’t go too hard on them.” Bucky calls out as the two of you make your exit.

“Oh I will!” Steve calls back, laughs leaving your lips as the doors open to the hallway. 

“He’s ridiculous.”

“You’re just figuring that out?” You say, tempted to elbow him.

“No, unfortunately when my memories came back all his stupidity came with it.”

Laughter filled the hallway as you two made your way to your respective rooms, caught up in chit chat and banter that seemed to fill most of your conversations now. 

Your brain doesn’t even realize that you’ve made the wrong turn and followed Bucky to his room until you’re standing in front of his door. His arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back, his eyes never leaving you.

“Stalking me now?”

“Oh please.” You roll your eyes, playfully reaching out to shove his shoulder. “What can I say? When you’re not brooding you’re actually pleasant to talk to.”

“Mmm.” He hummed. “I should be offended.”

“No, it is actually fun to watch. It’s like you can’t stop yourself from pouting.”

“I don’t pout.”

“Oh you absolutely pout.” 

Bucky chuckled as his hand wrapped around the door handle, letting it slowly turn as the door opened behind him.

“I don’t pout.” He argued with you as he nodded you into his room, a silent invitation.

The situation is so natural like the flow of a waterfall, fluid. You enter his room like you’ve done it a million times.

“Bucky, you absolutely pout.” 

It’s all fun and games now as you hear him close the door behind you, this connection the two of you have built has made this transition a lot easier. Bucky had put in the work, you had done your job, and now it felt more like two friends who were enjoying their time together.

Bucky’s room is dark aside only broken up by the light from the lamp in the corner. The shades on the windows are closed and he seemed to have gathered some more personal belongings; his leather bound journal sat on his night stand, the string unwound letting you know he had probably used it that morning, and his phone sitting at the edge of his bed probably filled with dozens of missed calls and unread texts.

You don’t think he ever managed to figure out how to use it.

“I don’t pout, and you’re getting on my nerves.” He teases as he moves past you. 

Bucky made his way over towards his closet, his hands gripping the end of his t-shirt as he slowly pulled it over his head, tossing it over to the chair next to him. It didn’t even cross his mind that you were seeing him without his shirt on, he couldn’t see how your eyes were fixated on him.

Now it was all that consumed you. His muscles were taut, you knew the serum kept him in shape, and golden for someone who had barely seen the sun in a few months.

It was as if someone had molded him right from stone. 

But it’s the weave of scars that wrapped around his back and shoulder that really caught your attention. They were red, raw and dug deep into his skin. The metal around them was a stark contrast. Man and machine sewn together.

There was an ache deep in your chest to touch him to fix the wrongs of all people who hurt him. His past was etched into his skin and you wanted to erase every single part of it.

Bucky glanced over his shoulder at you, still covered in a thin layer of sweat and he needed to take a shower. He catches your eye and tries to tell himself you’re not looking at him the way he thought you were. The way he hoped you were.

“Plan on watching me the whole time?” He asks, his eyebrow raising.

You want to make a funny joke, start back and forth with him that would make both of you feel at ease, but the words die in the back of your throat. 

Instead, you step forward until you’re standing behind him. Warmth radiated off him like the sun, but you knew you wouldn’t burn the same. Your hands shake as you bring it up to his shoulder, your eyes intently watching yourself skim your finger over his scars.

Bucky’s head feels dizzy at your touch, his head bowing as he sucks in a deep breath. Your name leaves his lips; he’s warning you to not go further and pleading with you not to stop.

Finally, Bucky turns his body so he can face you, his eyes closing at the tenderness. The two of you seem to find yourselves caught in these moments of tenderness that never push the envelope. Maybe it was time to start.

“I’m fine.” He says despite there not being a question asked. You don’t believe him, and the way the frown on your features tells him that. “I mean it, I’m fine.”

“They hurt you.”

Your fingers trace the scars, your throat tightening at the idea of how much torture he went through. Decades. 

When he fell from that train Bucky was dying, he thought he was being saved and instead he was brutally tormented. All he got with his second chance at life was PTSD and these scars. 

Bucky’s breath shakes again at your touch, you made him believe, even if just for a second, that he was worthy of such kindness. 

His eyes flutter shut as he grabs your wrist like he did on the night you two spent on the rooftop. Bringing your hand away from his shoulder and pressing it to his cheek, he does something this time that surprises you. Turning his face, Bucky presses his lips into the palm of your hand, his eyes opening now to watch you carefully.

He sees how your features soften, though he doesn’t realize how your heart beats a little faster or feel how your shoulders relax at his touch. 

Every single second over the last year has led the both of you to this moment, it had all fallen so perfectly in place. Now was your moment.

“I’m fine.” He whispers against your palm.

Bucky’s hand grabs your wrist as he pulls your arm over his shoulder, his lips sliding down to your wrist then your forearm ending at your bicep, peppering trails of kisses as he mumbles I’m fine after each one.

The words are a mantra, a promise to himself all while pleading with you. He was fine.

Your body is begging you to call out to him, but instead you wrap your hand around the back of his neck threading your fingers through his hair. He had barely any time to cut it since that day at the river so it was a bit longer than he liked to keep it, brushing right above his shoulders. You thought of how you wanted to tie it up for him, get it out of his face. 

You wanted to take care of Bucky again, not in the way you had with these training sessions. 

No, you wanted to care for him in the way a lover would. The way soulmates did.

Your name leaves his lips as he leans his head down now only inches away from yours, it immediately snaps you back into reality. You breathe out as you realize how close the two of you are, the warmth spreading through your body like a wildfire. 

His chest rose and fell rapidly, the very last of his control slipping in the back of his mind trying to stop himself from crossing that line. He thought of his therapy sessions, and how he was told he needed to start thinking about what he wanted in this life. 

He wanted nothing more than you. 

Bucky whispered your name again. His hand moved from your bicep to your neck, holding it tenderly as his thumb rubbed circles into your soft skin. 

Life never prepares anyone for these moments; you know, the moments where the world spins a little faster and two souls feel like they’re intertwining. No, life never prepared you for the moment, but you never really cared what life threw at you.

You reached out to cup Bucky’s face with both of your hands pulling him forward until both of your lips pressed against each other; like it was a prophecy waiting to be fulfilled.

There’s no gasps of surprise or moments of shock because this was not surprising at all; actually it was the most instinctive thing either of you had done with one another. A song and dance that blended in perfect harmony. 

The kiss isn’t rushed despite how wanted it is. Bucky’s hand grasps your neck a little tighter, needing to feel your skin under his touch. You don’t realize he’s backed you up against the wall until you feel the smooth surface, the soft thud of your body joining the sounds the two of you were making.

“Don’t do that.” He mumbled, nipping at your bottom lip playfully.

“Don’t do what?” You ask.

“Make me want you more than I already do.” 

You don’t have time to respond with a moan or even a chuckle because Bucky’s leaning down to grasp your thighs, picking you up effortlessly as you wrap your legs around his waist. There was a desperation in the way you two touched each other as if both of you had been starved and now you were served a feast.

There’s soft murmurings that fill the room while the two of you continue to kiss:

  I need you

You’re the best thing that has happened to me

Never leave me

Neither of you knew which voice said it anymore, because at this moment you are more connected to Bucky than your own body.

The sounds of breathless moans and pants fill Bucky’s room as you're soon carried over to his bed, your back hitting the mattress as he loomed over you. Contrary to how intimidating his size once was to you, you see him in a different light now. He’s softer, kinder, and full of this amazing wonder that makes you excited to see what the future has in store for him. 

He stares at you like you hold the secrets of the universe.

He places his arms on either side of your head as he brushes his nose against yours, causing your head to tilt up and press your lips against his once more. It’s a quick kiss this time. His hands running up and down your sides while yours rest on his biceps; these touches felt like they took a lifetime to get, now neither of you would take them for granted.

“I told you, I’m fine.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I met you and I’ve been fine ever since.”

Your heart aches in your chest as you squeeze his arms tenderly, the smile on your features growing. You knew deep down that you had made a promise to yourself that you would always care for Bucky, but it was right then and there that you also promised yourself that you would love Bucky until your dying breath.

Don’t worry though, he had already made those vows to himself for you long ago.

“Promise me one thing.” You whisper back to him.

“Anything.”

“Don’t start pulling your punches now when we spar.”

He laughs at your words before he leans down to peck your lips again a few times, trailing them down to press against your jaw and collarbones. He couldn’t get enough of you now.

“You have nothing to worry about. You will kick my ass fair and square.”

He looks up at you as he rests his chin on your chest. There’s a brief pause and you watch each other, all of the moments you had shared in the last year had now been neatly wrapped up in a bow. He presses one more kiss to your skin before nuzzling his head on your chest; he was home.

You threaded your fingers through his hair, feeling the way he relaxed against your frame.

Bucky Barnes was in front of you, not a perfect man, but a new one.

[orellazalonia]

In Every Form, You Still Saw Me

Summary: As a shapeshifter, you often shift into someone else for missions, laughs, or what others want. However, you start shifting to make one man who sees you for you, smile. You learn how he yearns for the true you no matter how scary it feels to be yourself. (Bucky Barnes x Avengers!reader)

Disclaimer: Reader has the power to shapeshift. Sort of pining for each other.

Word Count: 3.8k+

A/N: It’s so fun writing for Readers with different abilities. I wonder which power I could try next. Also, I think this is the longest work I’ve done yet. If you liked “The Way He Notices”, you might like this!

Main Masterlist | Whispers of the Gifted Masterlist

You weren’t born with your powers. You woke up with them after a freak accident during your childhood. It had left you comatose for three days and with no control over your own face when you came to.

You could shapeshift, but it wasn’t pretty at first. Reflexive transformations, triggered by emotion or proximity. Someone made you laugh? You morphed into them. Someone yelled at you? You wore their angry face. It was chaos until you finally got a hold of them.

When you first joined the team, Tony Stark dubbed you "Copycat" until you threatened to turn into Pepper and start signing contracts in her name. The nickname didn’t stick after that.

But Bucky? He always called you by your name. Even when you shifted. Even when your skin wasn’t yours and your voice belonged to someone else. He never flinched, never made a joke, never looked away in discomfort like the others sometimes did.

Maybe that’s what started it.

That quiet, steady way he treated you like you were solid. Real. Like you weren’t just some flickering mirage of other people’s identities.

Over time, you and Bucky fell into a rhythm. He was blunt; you were sarcastic. He grunted; you rolled your eyes. He brooded in corners; you shapeshifted into Steve just to annoy him. At some point, it stopped being just teasing. Or maybe it didn’t, but the way he started looking at you changed.

Or maybe you changed. Maybe you stopped shifting just to play around. You were careful though, of course. Always careful. He didn’t like surprises, didn’t like people messing with his head, and you knew how close your powers came to crossing that line. But you started shifting because you wanted to know what might make him smile.

There was something different about Bucky’s smile. It wasn’t the wide, toothy grin you saw from Sam or the sarcastic half-smirk you got from Tony. No, Bucky’s smile was the kind that crept up on you. A slight tug of his lips, something quiet, almost like a secret. It was the smile of a man who didn’t trust easily, who didn’t share his joy unless he was sure it was real. But when it came, when you made him laugh, genuinely, there was something almost intoxicating about it.

You didn’t understand why at first. Maybe it was the way he’d become so guarded, so emotionally distant after all that had happened to him. You saw him in ways the others didn’t: the small furrows in his brow when his mind wandered to the past, the way his eyes would harden when people mentioned Hydra, or how his posture would stiffen when someone still called him "The Winter Soldier" behind his back. Because, he’d become more than just a soldier, more than the guy with the metal arm. He was a man who was constantly carrying the weight of the past on his shoulders.

But when you made him smile… it was like the weight lifted, even just for a second. It was a flicker of hope, an acknowledgment that underneath it all, Bucky Barnes still had the ability to feel something real.

And you didn’t mind being the one who brought that out.

It started as harmless fun. A playful game. You’d shift into Sam, mock his attempts at being a "serious" soldier, exaggerating his speech, his hand gestures. You’d throw in the occasional “You good, Buck?” just to hear Bucky’s exasperated sigh. The first time it worked, Bucky had grunted, shaking his head in mock annoyance, but then that little smile crept across his face.

“Alright, alright, I get it. You think you’re funny,” He had muttered, crossing his arms over his chest, but the tension in his shoulders had loosened.

It was enough. It was always enough for you to want to do it again, to see that smile once more, to know that maybe, just maybe, you were the one who could make him feel light, even if it was for just a moment.

Then there was another day you shifted into Natasha, just to show off a little during sparring. You were better than you gave yourself credit for, and Bucky never failed to push you to improve. But this time, you took it up a notch. You copied her form, her speed, the way she moved with deadly precision, and you could see it in Bucky’s eyes as he watched. It was a sense of admiration mixed with surprise. And if you were being honest with yourself, a hint of something deeper.

"You're really trying to piss her off, huh?" He had joked as you took a jab at him, mirroring Natasha’s infamous fighting style.

You paused, lowering your stance, your eyes shifting back to yourself for a just second. The rush of power you felt from the change, the way you could tap into anyone’s skill, anyone’s identity, it was like you were borrowing their strengths. But when Bucky’s eyes softened, when he gave that little chuckle, you felt something else, something that wasn’t about power at all.

Quite frankly, you never really thought about your powers in the same way the others did. To most of the team, shapeshifting was just another tool in the arsenal. It was useful for infiltration, misdirection, and the occasional prank. But to you, it was something far more personal. More fragile. Every time you morphed into someone, deep down, you felt a part of yourself slip away. A mask over your real face, a shield to hide behind, a way to slip through the cracks unnoticed. You'd never been sure of who you were without the transformation, until you realized how real it felt to see Bucky’s reactions when you did.

You realized over time there was something in his eyes when you morphed back to your own face briefly, something that you couldn’t quite place. You were used to being invisible or someone else, used to people ignoring you or pretending you weren’t there when you didn’t fit their expectations. But Bucky didn’t do that. He just… watched. Like he was studying you, trying to figure out the hidden parts of you that you kept locked away.

It felt almost safe in a strange way. Some would say creepy, but you knew him better than that. It was an odd realization. With Bucky, you didn’t feel like you were performing. Because truly, when you shapeshifted into someone else, it was no longer about escaping yourself or following orders. It was about finding a way to connect with him.

You didn’t mind looking silly in front of him. Actually, you kind of liked it. There was something about making him laugh that made your chest flutter, like you were finally being seen for something more than your powers, more than a stranger in someone else’s skin. You weren’t playing a role, you were just… you. And Bucky smiled.

But there were times when it hit you hard. When you realized you were holding on to those smiles like they were the only thing that kept you grounded. And it terrified you. Because making Bucky smile felt like your own fragile version of normal. But what if you lost that? What if one day, he saw through you? Would you be able to stand, knowing you weren’t just the shapeshifter who made him laugh, but the person behind the masks?

You tried to focus on the feelings, the lightness you got when you saw Bucky react. You used your powers to make him smile, forget about his troubles, because in those moments, you could forget about hiding. And maybe that was enough for now.

The trouble was, you knew it couldn’t stay like this. Sooner or later, you'd have to show him the real you, all of you, without a mask, without someone else’s form to hide behind. And when that day came, you weren’t sure whether he’d still smile.

But for now, you'd keep shifting. Keep playing the game. Because as long as Bucky looked at you with those eyes so curious, attentive, and just a little bit warmer than usual; it felt like you were finally getting a glimpse of the real you too.

Until then, he’ll continue to think this is just a game. And you will continue to pretend that it didn’t hurt to hide behind other people’s faces.

—

The lounge was quiet, the way it always became after midnight. Most of the team had long gone to their quarters, the lights dimmed to a soft amber. Outside the tower windows, New York glittered in silence. Alive, but far away.

Bucky sat on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest, the other cradling a glass of water. He looked tired, in that way he always did after missions where too many things exploded and too many people screamed. He wasn’t injured, at least not on the outside, but he hadn’t said much since coming back.

You had a habit of finding him during moments like these. You padded in barefoot, wearing the appearance of someone else. You’d slipped into it earlier out of habit, mostly to annoy Sam in the elevator. But when Bucky’s tired eyes met yours across the room, the faint lift of his brow said he wasn’t in the mood.

“You gonna sit, or keep pretending to be someone else?” He asked, voice low and dry.

You sighed, letting whoever’s frame, it didn’t matter, melt away. Muscles shifted, bones cracked softly beneath your skin as you returned to your natural form. One you rarely wore when anyone else was around. You always thought of it as your “in-between” face. Not as striking as Wanda, not as symmetrical as Steve. Just… you.

Bucky’s eyes stayed on you for a moment longer than usual.

You walked over, dropping onto the cushion beside him and pulling your legs up beneath you.

He didn’t say anything. Just handed you an extra water bottle from the coffee table. You took it, your fingers brushing his metal ones briefly.

“Rough mission?” You asked, softly.

He gave a faint nod. “Yeah. But I’m used to it.”

You looked at him sidelong. “Still. I get it. I had to shift into some sleazy arms dealer in front of a bunch of actual criminals. I swear one of them winked at me.”

He huffed a short laugh, the sound sharp and unexpected. “Bet he regretted that.”

“I may have broken his nose with a champagne bottle. In heels.”

He gave you a look. “You’re way too comfortable wearing other people’s faces.”

“Comes with the job.” You gave a weak smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Besides… nobody wants to see mine anyway.”

The words slipped out too fast, too quiet. You hadn’t meant to say them.

Bucky went still.

You immediately tried to cover it up. To deflect, twist, joke, anything at all. So, you shifted again.

But this time… it wasn’t Natasha, Steve, Sam, or anyone else on the team.

It was you. The true you.

The version of yourself that was curled up in bed at 2 a.m. The version that existed without expectation. The one who watched Bucky when he wasn’t looking and imagined what it would feel like to hold his hand, just once.

And with that form came your voice, your real voice.

“You know…I care for you, Bucky,” It said, trembling, unsure. “More than I should. I like you.”

There was a pause. Too long. Too exposed. You started to shift again, panic rising, ready to bury the moment beneath another borrowed face, another safe joke.

But his hand caught yours.

“You always do that,” He said quietly.

Your breath caught. “Do what?”

“Hide when it’s really you.”

The world slowed. Your skin flickered, unstable for a second, but he squeezed your hand gently, grounding you.

“I don’t want Natasha. Or Steve. Or anybody else,” He said. “I want you. The real you. Even if you’re scared, because I like you too.”

Your breath hitched, you couldn’t look at him at first. Could barely breathe. But when you did, really looked, you didn’t see pity. Or regret. Or fear.

You saw recognition. Love. Unexpected and unconditional warmth as he smiled.

“Besides,” Bucky added, softer now, “If I have to keep watching you flirt with me using Sam’s face, I might actually throw myself off the roof.”

You laughed, startled, and leaned into him without thinking.

This time, you didn’t shift. The room was quieter now, save for the soft hum of the city below. You sat close to Bucky on the couch, the space between you barely noticeable. His warmth radiated against your side, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a grounding presence in the stillness of the night. You hadn’t noticed how tense you’d been until the tension was gone.

His hand was still wrapped around yours, loosely, like he was afraid you’d vanish if he held on too tightly. You couldn’t blame him; you’d spent so long hiding behind someone else, never fully revealing all of yourself to anyone.

“I’ve been waiting for you to do that for a while you know,” Bucky said, his voice low and casual, as if he was talking about the weather. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and the simple gesture made your heart stutter in your chest.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool despite the warmth flooding your face. “Waiting for me to… what?”

“To stop pretending. To stop hiding behind someone else’s face.”

A small, uncomfortable laugh slipped from you, but you didn’t pull away. “Guess I’m not good at being me.”

Bucky’s eyes softened as he turned to face you more fully. There was no teasing in his gaze now, no sharp edge to his words. “You’re not the only one, you know,” He said quietly, as if sharing a secret. “I’ve spent more than half my life pretending to be something I’m not. Something I hate. But I’m not that guy anymore.” His voice dropped an octave, almost a whisper. “And you don’t have to be anyone else around me, either.”

You blinked at him, your breath catching in your throat. There was something so raw, so real in his voice. The same kind of vulnerability you had been hiding for so long. You found yourself leaning a little closer, drawn in by the strength of his words, the sincerity of his presence.

“Then… why’d you wait for me?” You had to ask, voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, I—" You hesitated, unsure how to express what had been swirling in your chest for so long. "I’ve never exactly made it easy for you to see the real me.”

Bucky’s lips quirked into a faint smile, though his eyes remained serious. “Maybe I’m stubborn, maybe I looked forward to your jokes,” He said, his thumb tracing a slow, deliberate path over your hand. “Or maybe I saw the real you long before you did.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling a surge of warmth in your chest. “I…” You stop yourself, swallowing the lump in your throat. You didn’t know how to say the words you’d been bottling up for so long. How do you tell someone that, for the first time in your life, you were willing to be seen? That you weren’t afraid of him looking too closely?

Bucky squeezed your hand gently, as if he understood the inner turmoil you were going through. He could probably see it on your expression, your face. “You don’t have to explain. Not to me.”

He leaned forward just slightly, his face a little too close for comfort, but you didn’t pull back. Instead, you held your breath, waiting for the next moment. Wondering if you were about to fall into some quiet oblivion or if you’d be able to navigate this fragile space between you and him.

His gaze dropped to your lips for a split second, then back to your eyes. “Can I kiss you?” He asked with a sense of nervousness that could be seen as cute; his voice barely more than a murmur.

You nodded, heart pounding in your chest. “Please.”

And then, for the first time in your life, you accepted the idea of letting yourself be seen. Not as anyone else nor what others want of you, but as you. Just you.

Bucky’s lips brushed against yours softly, hesitantly, as if testing the waters. But the kiss deepened almost immediately, the tension between you melting away. His hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you in closer, and you didn’t fight it. You didn’t want to fight it.

It was just the two of you now. The past, the masks, the fears—all of it felt so far away. It was just Bucky, and it was just you.

When the kiss finally broke, your foreheads rested together, both of you breathless, sharing the same space in a way that felt simple and true.

“I’ve been waiting for you too,” You admitted, your voice shaky with the emotions flooding you.

Bucky’s chuckle was low and soft. “I figured as much.” He gave your hand another gentle squeeze before pulling you into his side, his arm wrapped around you like he’d been doing it for years.

“You know,” He said after a beat, voice muffled as his chin rested on your head, “I think you’ll get used to being yourself more often. It just takes time.”

You nodded, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart against yours. For the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel the need to hide.

And in that quiet, peaceful moment, you realized that maybe being seen wasn’t so scary after all.

Bonus:

It was a typical debriefing in the common area, probably weeks later. You and Bucky were sitting side by side on one of the couches, trying to maintain the illusion of a professional team meeting. The problem? You couldn’t stop smiling.

You were sitting closer than usual, your legs brushing under the table. A soft, knowing look passed between you and Bucky whenever your eyes met. Neither of you were saying anything out loud, but there was a certain… tension in the air.

Steve, who was in the middle of explaining the next mission’s details, glanced over at you and Bucky. Something was off, and Steve had a knack for noticing subtle changes.

“You two okay?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re acting… weird.”

Bucky looked up, his usual serious expression never faltering. “What do you mean ‘weird’?” He replied, though his tone was a little too defensive.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Steve’s eyes narrowed, a mischievous glint appearing. “You two seem… a little too comfortable.” He leaned forward. “You’re not…” he motioned vaguely with his hands, “…you know, getting close or anything?”

You felt a flush creeping up your neck and quickly busied yourself with your water bottle. But Bucky, ever the stoic, didn’t flinch.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Cap,” Bucky said, shrugging nonchalantly. “We’re just here for the mission.”

You, however, were a little less composed. You cleared your throat. “Yeah, we’re just… listening.” You floundered for words.

Steve raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, and then his eyes flicked to Clint, who had been watching the exchange with far too much interest.

Clint, ever the instigator, grinned widely. “Uh-huh. Sure. Whatever you say.” He turned to Sam, who was pretending to be absorbed in his phone but was clearly eavesdropping. “Hey, Sam, did you notice how Bucky's been looking at her lately?” He clearly gestured to you.

Sam smirked, lowering his phone just enough to catch your eye. “Oh, I’ve noticed. Definitely noticed.”

"Whoa, whoa," You said quickly, leaning back in your seat, but Clint wasn’t letting up.

“Nope, nope. I definitely saw that look. The one where he actually smiles when no one else is looking. Bucky smiling. We’re all witnesses to this. He’s gone soft,” Clint teased, turning to Steve with an exaggerated gasp. “This wasn't what I expected from the brooding sergeant. A romantic at heart? Who knew?”

You buried your face in your hands, trying not to laugh despite the embarrassment spreading across your face.

“Clint, shut up,” Bucky muttered, but he couldn’t help the faintest hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Does that mean we should start calling you ‘Casanova’ from now on?” Sam quipped, leaning back with a satisfied smirk.

“Guys, stop,” You blurted, though your voice cracked, betraying the calm act. “We’re not-“

“Well, it sounds like you two are,” Clint interrupted. “You’re over there being all cute and whispering to each other like you’re plotting to steal all of Tony’s suits.” He turned to Bucky with a grin. “Bucky, are you sure she’s not just in it for the tech? You know, she could get into the suits and—”

“Clint,” Bucky growled, his face flushed. You could see the gears turning in his head, trying to keep his cool. You knew this was far from over, and you weren’t sure whether to laugh or hide in a closet.

“Well, this is awkward,” Tony’s voice rang out suddenly, cutting through the banter. He had appeared in the doorway, completely unaware of what had been happening. “What did I miss?”

“We were just talking about Bucky’s secret love life,” Clint said with a gleam in his eye. “I have all the details, Tony. Want the rundown?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, eyes flicking to you and Bucky, then back to Clint. “Oh, so this is happening now, huh?”

You groaned and stood up quickly, holding your hands out in surrender. “Okay, okay. You got us. We’re together. Happy?”

Bucky just leaned back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest, trying to look unfazed but failing miserably as the team erupted in teasing applause.

“Finally,” Steve said with a relieved sigh. “I was starting to think I’d have to play matchmaker.”

Sam slapped Bucky on the back. “About time you stopped brooding and did something about it.”

You shot Bucky a look, and he smirked, shrugging helplessly. “I guess I couldn’t keep it a secret forever.”

Tony clapped his hands together, a playful glint in his eye. “Alright, now that we’ve got the romantic drama out of the way, anyone want to help me with this new project? I need someone who doesn't spend their time making out in the common room.”

You felt your face heat up, but Bucky just chuckled, leaning back against the couch, looking much more at ease than he had in weeks.

And you? You might have been embarrassed, but you couldn’t help but smile. There was something oddly comforting or satisfying about the team finding out. Maybe it was because you knew you didn’t have to hide anymore. You didn’t have to hide your love for the man who loves you more than anything or anyone you could become. And that, in itself, was worth all the teasing.

[starlemons]

Coffee and Crime ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ PART TEN

Pairing ✦ mafia!bucky x reader

Word Count ✦ 1K

Warnings ✦ overall story has a 18+ content warning, MDNI, fluff

A/N ✦ Sorry for the hiatus life got hectic for a bit but I'm back and hope you enjoy!

PART NINE »»» Series Masterlist

You groaned as you woke up, bright light streaming in through the curtains. 

A large arm was tossed across your waist, and as you looked back at the man holding you, your heart fluttered a bit.

Bucky was sleeping like a giant teddy bear beside you, soft snores leaving his lips. 

You shifted a bit, trying to turn towards him, and subconsciously, in his sleep, his grip tightened, not letting you move. 

You giggled, deciding to relax and lean back into his larger frame. 

You reached for your phone as your head rested against his chest. 

Turning the screen on, you immediately panicked. 

You’d overslept and needed to be at work in ten minutes. The biggest issue was that your job was fifteen minutes from Bucky’s place. 

Shaking his arm, you attempted to get Bucky to wake up, seeing as he was your ride, and there was no way you were moving unless he got up and released you from his firm grasp. 

He groaned, shoving his face deeper into his pillow. 

“Bucky, wake up.”

“No.”, he mumbled.

“Yes! I’m going to be late for work.”

“Don’t care.” he pulled you closer to his body. “Call out.”

You balked.

“I can’t do that, I have these things called bills to pay, and my rent is due—”

“I’ll pay your rent and bills then.”

“You’re not going to do that, I don’t care how much money you have.”

He lifted his head slightly, “Please? Let me pay your rent this month and spend the day with me?”

His blue puppy dog eyes worked on you in seconds. 

“O-okay.” You stuttered, flustered over his actions. 

You turned your phone on once more, quickly dialing Nat’s number.

She picked up on the first ring, “Don’t tell me you’re doing what I think you’re doing?”.

You laughed sheepishly. 

“Sorry, Nat, but I won’t be able to make it to work today.”

“And why not?”

“Uh–Bucky won’t let me.”

“He what?! I’m going to kick his ass. Who does he think he is telling you that you can’t go to work? " she yelled from the other end of the line. 

If there was one thing you appreciated about Nat, it was that she never let you get taken advantage of, having been the person who had rescued you from your previous nightmare relationship. 

A strong hand plucked your phone from your hands, and you looked behind you, seeing Bucky bring your phone to his ear.

“Hi Nat,” he spoke, sleep still heavy in his voice. I apologize if it seemed like I was trying to control Y/N, but that’s not the case. I simply want to spend the day with my girlfriend and pamper her.”

“Yeah, well that’s nice and all but—”, Nat spoke. 

“I’ll pay your guys rent for the next three months.”, he said flatly. 

“Can you give the phone back to Y/N?” you heard her ask. 

Bucky passed you back your phone with a smirk on his face. 

“Y/N, I have suddenly changed my mind and no longer have a problem with you bailing on work to make out with muscle man all day. I’ll tell the manager you have food poisoning or something.”

And with that, she hung up the phone. 

“You did not just bribe my roommate!” you exclaimed, playfully smacking Bucky’s arm, still wrapped around your waist. 

“I did! And I’d do it again if it means I get to spend the day with you.”

He leaned towards you, softly pecking you on the lips. 

“Now, what do you want for breakfast, sweetheart?”

An hour had passed, and the two of you found yourselves cuddled up in the breakfast nook in the kitchen. 

Bucky had called Tony, asking him to pick up some pastries from one of the local bakeries you adored. He’d tasked Steve with grabbing you coffee from your work. Even though you’d pulled a hooky that day, it was still the best coffee shop to you. 

You chuckled as he hung up the phone with his two friends. “You didn’t need to make your friends your errand boys. I would’ve been fine with anything.”

“I know, but I wanted to do something special for you.”

A blush blossomed across your cheeks. 

Tony had dropped off a box filled with baked goods: chocolate croissants, lemon tarts, apple hand pies, and cranberry muffins. Steve showed up soon after, a raspberry white mocha in one hand for you and a dirty chai in the other for Bucky, who said the drink had become his favorite after you’d made it for him on the day he met you. 

While you’d waited, Bucky had cut up fresh fruit for the two of you, setting a bowl of sliced strawberries, blueberries, and oranges on the table before you. 

The two of you ate all of the pastries except a chocolate croissant and two hand pies. Coffee cups sat empty beside your plates, and the bowl of fruit was half gone. 

“I’m so full I could explode.”, you groaned. 

Bucky chuckled at you as he got out of his chair, stretching with a deep groan as he stood. The hem of his t-shirt lifted, showing a happy trail dipping down into his loose pajama bottoms. 

Your eyes drifted up and down the stretch of his exposed stomach, almost mesmerized. 

He chuckled at you, having caught you staring. 

You flushed red and began stammering apologies. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I thought it was cute.” he lifted your face, chin between his fingers.

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

“Besides, what man wouldn’t want his girlfriend staring at him like that?”

You smiled up at him. 

“I’m your girlfriend?” you asked. 

“I shit–sorry I know I probably should’ve asked you first if you wanted to be but it just feels like you already are my–”, you cut off his rambling. 

“Bucky, I’m more than happy to be your girlfriend.”

“You are?”

“Yes, of course I am.”, you beamed. 

He smiled back down at you, crashing his lips into yours harder this time, savoring each pass of your lips against his own.

PART ELEVEN

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!!

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[reginaphalangelobster]

Game Night

Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Bruce Banner, Thor, Loki, Stephen Strange, Wong

Summary: The Avengers have a game night.

Warnings: one swear word, lots of yelling, Loki being Loki, fluff, I think that's all

Word Count: 2,020

Notes: I was planning to write a short drabble but it got away from me.....and I let it. I was halfway through an episode of Buffy so that may or may not have influenced me. Thank you so much @soulvtude I LOVED writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it.

Every Friday night was game night. Peter Parker had suggested it and all of the Avengers jumped at the idea, thinking it would be a fun time had by all but they were sorely mistaken. The evening started off fine, Bruce made the popcorn as he was one of the only people trusted around the microwave after the incident. Everyone sat down at the large, steel table in the common room, awaiting the games Tony and Peter had promised to bring. The two thought they had picked out a nice selection but oh how wrong they were. Their first mistake, Battleship. They thought it would be fun, they thought everyone would enjoy playing, they thought wrong. When Sam had revealed three out of the four spots his ship was on Bucky thought he had him.

"C-3" Bucky proclaimed, his voice thick with a certain smugness.

"Miss" Sam responded.

"What?!"

"Miss"

"How?! C-1, C-2 and C-4 were all hits!"

"And C-3 is a miss, Buckaroo"

"It has to be a hit! And don't call me that!"

"Call you what, Buckaroo?"

"Wilson, I swear to God, one more word out that smart mouth of your's and I'll-"

"You'll what?"

"That's it!"

Bucky snapped, he leaped across the table and landed on Sam, pinning him to the floor. His hands wrapped around Sam's neck, almost ready to squeeze just that little bit too tight.

"Buck! Get off him, please" Steve pleaded, to no use.

"Not happenin' Stevie"

Sam was gasping for air, pulling at the super soldier's hair, trying to get him off in any way. Steve ran up and ripped Bucky off of him just in time. The rest of the team looked on in mixed expressions of shock and annoyance.

"Buck, I think you should go to your room and cool down" Steve gently prodded, trying to calm the situation.

"I'm not going anywhere unless he goes" Bucky growled, glaring at Sam, who stuck his tongue out at him.

"Fine, Sam will go too"

"Hey, no fair! He attacked me"

"You provoked him, now both of you, go to your rooms"

"Bu-"

"Uh! Rooms, now"

"Fine, Mom" Sam muttered under his breath.

The two men walked to their rooms, not without some grumbling.

"Now, where were we?" Steve asked, sitting back down.

"M-maybe it'd be good to play a different game?" Peter voiced, still a little nervous.

"Good idea, kid" Steve replied.

Peter rustled through the box of games next to him when he pulled out a deck of cards with the word 'Uno' written on the box.

"Nu uh" Nat stated simply.

"Nu uh?" Tony questioned.

"No Uno"

"Why not?"

"Ask Bird Brain"

"Hey!" Clint yelped.

"What did you do, Clint?" Steve asked in his annoyed mother voice.

"I didn't do anything!"

"Fuckin' liar"

"Language! There is a child present!"

"Oh that's okay Mister Captain America Rogers, sir"

"Y-you can just call me Steve, kid"

"Thank you"

"Back to Uno" Tony interjected.

"No, never again" Nat deadpanned.

"Come on! That was years ago!" Clint whined.

"So you do remember!" Nat accused.

"Okay, yes, fine, I remember. Now can we please move on?"

"Not until you apologise"

"I'm sorry, okay?"

"Like you mean it" Tony teased.

"Natasha Romanoff I am deeply sorry for what I have done to you, will you please forgive me?"

"No"

"No?!"

"No"

"Oh this just keeps getting better" Tony mumbled through a mouth full of popcorn.

"What you did was unforgivable, Barton!"

Clint sighed, running his hand across his face.

"Why don't we just play something else, guys?" Steve tried to cut through the tension.

"Fine" Nat grumbled.

"I have Monopoly" Peter muttered, absolutely terrified of the Black Widow, as anyone should be.

"That could be fun" Bruce mentioned, reminding everyone that he was in fact, still in the room.

Peter set up the Monopoly board and made Tony the banker, yet another grave mistake. The game played out fine for a while, everyone was nice to each other, being fair, until Bruce ended up in jail for the third time in a row. A few veins on his forehead and neck started to pulse green.

"Jail bad!" He yelled in a Hulk voice.

"It is amusing how easily angry the Hulk gets!" Thor boomed through bouts of laughter, not helping the situation at all.

"Not Hulk!"

"Thor, you're not helping!" Clint almost screeched out of terror, being sat next to Bruce was not an ideal position to be in.

"Hey, hey, big guy, calm down okay?" Nat reasoned with Bruce, narrowly avoiding a code green.

"I-I'm sorry, I think I should just go to my room"

Bruce left up the hallway, feeling incredibly guilty and embarrassed. That is for now, before he hears stories of the rest of the night in the morning.

"Why don't we play a video game?" Peter almost begged at this point, trying to salvage the night.

"Sounds great, whatcha thinking?" Tony asked, looking over to him.

"Uh, what about Mario Kart?"

"Good choice"

"What is Mario Kart?" Steve and Thor ask at the same time.

"It's a game where you race cars and pick up little boosts along the way"

"That sounds very amusing" Thor proclaimed.

Peter, Thor, Steve, Tony, Loki, Clint and Nat all move to the TV's, of which there are two, both equipped with the latest gaming tech, Tony's gift to Peter. Peter explains how to play and it seems as though everyone understands.

"Look brother! They have a rainbow bridge that looks just like the Bi-Frost!"

"Very amusing" Loki drawled with an eye roll.

The race started, Nat, Tony and Peter were all very good at it with Clint not too far behind. Thor kept flying off the bridge, Steve could barely work the controls and Loki used magic to get ahead.

"Uh uh, Sabrina, no magic!" Tony called Loki out, still not looking away from the screen.

"Who is this Sabrina?"

"The Teenage Witch"

"I've never heard of her, is she very powerful?"

"Mr Stark, I don't think he gets it" Peter whispered.

"Yeah, I gathered that"

"Do not speak of me as if I am not here!"

"Cool your jets, Samantha"

"WHO ARE THESE WOMEN YOU KEEP REFERRING TOO?!"

"They're for TV Mr Loki"

"They are fictional?"

"Yes"

"Then why do you compare them to me?"

"Because their powers are just a lot of talk too" Tony quipped.

"How dare you doubt the God of Mischief?!"

"Brother, the man of iron is just trying to upset you"

"Well, it will not work"

"Seems like it already has, Willow"

"WHO IS WILLOW?!?!?!"

"I actually don't know that one" Peter said, still watching the screen, and kicking everyone's asses.

"Willow Rosenberg, Buffy The Vampire Slayer" Nat interjected, also focused on the screen.

"You watch Buffy?" Tony questioned.

"Only because someone said that some vampire looked like Clint, then I got sucked in"

"Yeah it does that, did you say a vampire looked like Clint?"

"Yep, but it was in the spin off"

"We need to watch that episode"

"Please don't" Clint almost pleaded.

"After this we are so watching that" Tony smirked.

After that Clint decided to leave, he didn't want to be teased any further later into the night.

A few hours went by without any incidents and Peter thought everything was back to normal, he thought everything was fine and going well but yet again, he was wrong.

"YOU STUPID HUNK OF JUNK!" Steve screamed, throwing his controller on the ground after not being able to make a right turn for twenty minutes.

His outburst set everyone off.

"I am done with this ridiculous machine!" Thor beckoned as he stomped off just after Steve.

"PETER BENJAMIN PARKER! I know you are cheating somehow!"

"I'm not Mr Stark, I promise!"

"I'm with Tony, there's no way you can win every single round without cheating at least a bit" Nat added as she took walked away.

Peter was left sitting on the couch next to Loki, who had stopped playing hours ago.

"Mr Loki?"

"Yes, Spiderling?"

"Is-is there any chance you might have cast a spell to make everyone go crazy?"

"No, but I wish I had thought of it"

"So then, they're just, like this?"

"It appears so"

"Wow, I'm just glad Doctor Strange turned down my invitation"

"Ah, about that"

"Mr Loki, what did you do?"

Loki waved his hand to reveal Stephen, sitting the corner rocking back and forth, muttering incoherently.

"What did you do?!"

"It was just a simple spell for a bit of fun. He has been sitting there the whole time, watching us but no one has been able to see or hear him"

"Why? And why is he such a mess?"

"One, because it was fun and two, because he has no perception of time so in his perspective it could have been days, weeks, months even"

"And you think that's fun?!"

"Yes! And payback"

"Payback for what?"

"The time he had me trapped in a loop, falling"

"Thor said that was only for thirty minutes, not months!"

"That time it was but he did it again a few weeks ago, it felt like I was stuck for 2 months"

"Well that's a bit mean of him, what did you do?"

"Why does everyone always say that? I might not have done anything"

"Mr Loki?"

"I said might"

Peter just looked at him, with those big puppy dog eyes.

"Fine, I took his necklace"

"You what?!"

"I thought it was a harmless joke!"

"You know how weird he is about that thing"

"Yes, it's almost as disturbing as his attachment to the cloak"

Cloak flew over to Loki and slapped him in the face.

"Hey!"

Peter tried to hide his giggles but couldn't for very long.

"Do you think this is funny mortal?!"

"Yes! Very!"

Loki growled before stomping off in a huff. Suddenly a bright orange ring of light appeared in front of Peter and Wong stepped through.

"Where is he?" Wong asked tiredly.

"Just over there Mr Supreme Wong sir"

"Just call me Wong"

"Okay sir"

Wong motioned for the cloak and it picked Stephen up and carried him through the portal.

"Loki?"

"Yes"

"Hmm, I will deal with him in the morning, for now I have to turn this" He motioned at Stephen, still babbling while holding his knees to his chest "Back into a fearsome sorcerer"

"Good luck!"

"I'm sure I'll need it"

With that the portal closed and Peter joined Nat and Tony in the main common room.

"Do you forgive me yet?"

"Sure, sit down, we're watching vampire Barton" Tony said, gesturing for Peter to sit next to him.

"God, no. Please Nat, don't do it" Clint begged.

"Nope, now sit down or get out, either way, shut up"

Clint left, done with Nat's teasing. Peter, Nat and Tony watched the episode and Tony turned to Peter.

"So are you saying, you've never seen Buffy The Vampire Slayer?"

"Nope, but I've heard of it, sounds kinda silly"

"Bite your tongue!" Nat exclaimed, surprising the two.

"Well we're watching it, prepare for your mind to be blown"

"That seems a little over the top" Peter doubted.

"For once, he's not being dramatic"

Tony played the first two episodes and looked to Peter.

"Whatdya think?"

"Oh my God, is there more?"

"Oh yeah"

The three of them watched more episodes for hours until Peter fell asleep. His legs were on Tony's lap and his head was on Nat's shoulder as he snored, fast asleep.

"Do we move him?" Tony whispered.

"Nah, he looks too comfy"

They sat there for a while before they all fell asleep, quite the sight for the others when they woke up. Sam took a photo and ran away just as Natasha woke up. Of course she threatened him but she didn't want to disturb the still sleeping Peter in her lap.

And what did Peter learn from all of this? Game nights with the Avengers were chaotic, loud and sometimes a little murdery but they always ended happily, for the most part and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Tags:

@impetusofadream @goldfishthegr8 @avengers-official-recruit-agent @goreygirl03 @xenasolos @sparklyturtlefox @rios-sythe @nekoannie-chan @ilovemarvel12 @hayneyney @n3ponen @8812-342. @everyonesfriend @pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse @aliljaybird

[magnusmodig]

headcanon/development qs / anon / no longer accepting !

╰┈➤ What’s the lie your character says most often?

||. I've written two mini-meta on his biggest lie (his 2011 facade) before, so I won't go into that one again.... Thor is contrarily a very sincere person. If he doesn't have anything good to say, or if he can't agree to something outright but can't deny it either, or otherwise is in a position where he might need to be dishonest or unkind to someone in good standing with him, Thor doesn't say anything at all.

Or if he does, he'll word it in a way that gives him a loophole out of it, and then proceed to abide by that. Thor doesn't (usually) lie intentionally unless it's for a specific gain, something he can't entirely agree to, and usually to further benefit the lives or plans of his friends and allies.

To my count, he's only ever lied on screen 4 times.

2011 - Only bowing his head to Selvig during the bar scene and not actually giving his word that he'll leave Puente Antiguo and Jane Foster behind)

2013 - Purposefully misdirecting Loki and leaving him out of the "Get Jane out of Asgard" Heist

2013 - The entire "get Jane out of Asgard" Heist and attempting to misdirect Malekith into destroying the Aether (which I'm only counting because it's deliberate treason against his father. which he only did because odin refused to at least attempt to make sure Thor's plan would go off smoothly)

2015 - Electing to not bring up to Steve Rogers that he can lift Mjolnir (though this, they both knew)

I might be missing some small fibs here and there, but Thor is an incredibly honest person, so I doubt it's very much more than 4. (I guess you could also count Thor telling Jane he'll return for her and then not doing that for 2 years, but that's less of a lie and more of a broken promise; he fully intended to return and chose not to after the drama of his family escalated to the point of insanity.)

As far as the lie that Thor believes and will state as if it's truth? That he isn't worthy to be king. Tangentially also: that he would lose himself as king, the same way his father did. It's his "resistance to reality", so to speak.

Thor can talk and believe all he wants that he isn't the king his father would want, and he isn't a worthy steward of the title, that he's afraid he'll drown in the politics of the matter instead of being a good king... never realizing that that heart is exactly what would make him a good king. And a good man at that. He already has the qualities, he already has the skills... the only person who neglects to see this is Thor himself. (and where his character arc should have ended him: finally seeing that he has always been worthy, and not because a hammer (see: his father) told him so.)

╰┈➤ What would you (mun) yell in the middle of a crowd to find them? What would their best friend and/or romantic partner yell?

||. Honestly? Just his name, "Thor". Maybe Tony would call him one of his various on-the-spot nicknames like Point Break but nothing too terribly out of the ordinary.

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

A complete masterlist of all thirty-one stories written in celebration of my reaching ten thousand followers (!!!) All stories feature a fem!reader unless marked as gender neutral. Stories containing smut will be marked (***), and full content warnings are on each individual post.

I cannot believe that this many people have followed me over the years, and every single one of you is amazing :) a particular thanks and shout of love to every person who has taken the time to like, reblog, comment, and send an ask about my fics. Writing is one of the things I love most, and hearing that you enjoyed something I created means the absolute world. I cannot wait to hear what you all think of these stories, and I hope you enjoy!

Day One: On Your Knees || Tony Stark x F!Reader *** Prompt: "Get on your knees."

Day Two: Crossroads || Clint Barton x GN!Reader Prompt: "We could run away."

Day Three: Hold Tight || Wanda Maximoff x F!Reader *** Prompt: "Grab the headboard for me, will you?"

Day Four: Bend, Don't Break || Bruce Banner x F!Reader *** Prompt: "I'm not made of glass. You won't break me."

Day Five: Reprieve || Jessica Jones x F!Reader Prompt: "You take the bed; you need it more than me."

Day Six: Hands Free || Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader *** Prompt: "What are you doing? I'm on the phone!"

Day Seven: Bedside Manner || Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader Prompt: "You brought me flowers?"

Day Eight: Come Back to Me || Tony Stark x F!Reader Prompt: "I don't know if I want to yell at you or kiss you!"

Day Nine: Lost Time || Steve Rogers x F!Reader *** Prompt: "You got started without me."

Day Ten: Fireworks || Bruce Banner x F!Reader Prompt: "I'm sorry; you're just really warm."

Day Eleven: Sweetness || Wanda Maximoff x F!Reader *** Prompt: "Don't cover your mouth... I like hearing you."

Day Twelve: After Hours || Clint Barton x F!Reader *** Prompt: "Now spread you legs and tell me all about your day."

Day Thirteen: Sober Hearts || Tony Stark x F!Reader Prompt: "I love you." / "Tell me that when you're sober."

Day Fourteen: Miss Me? || Sam Wilson x GN!Reader Prompt: "Kiss me again."

Day Fifteen: Early Hours || Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Prompt: "You're crushing me right now."

Day Sixteen: Follow My Lead || Natasha Romanoff x GN!Reader Prompt: "Come on. I'll show you how to dance."

Day Seventeen: Subtlety || Tony Stark x F!Reader *** Prompt: "You've got my lipstick on your mouth."

Day Eighteen: A Delicate Hand || Clint Barton x F!Reader Prompt: "I'm gonna need someone to kiss at midnight."

Day Nineteen: Spicy Sweet || Wanda Maximoff x F!Reader *** Prompt: "Don't look at me, I'm a mess!" / "I love it when you're a mess."

Day Twenty: Fear and Loving in Iowa || Bruce Banner x GN!Reader Prompt: "Are you afraid of me?"

Day Twenty-One: As You're Told || Tony Stark x F!Reader *** Prompt: "Look what you do to me."

Day Twenty-Two: Think of Me || Clint Barton x F!Reader *** Prompt: "Do you think about me when you touch yourself?"

Day Twenty-Three: Soul Food || Sam Wilson x F!Reader Prompt: "You cancelled your plans for me?"

Day Twenty-Four: Reflected in You || Wanda Maximoff x F!Reader Prompt: "Stop flirting with me, I'm not going to fall for it."

Day Twenty-Five: We Could Play Pretend || Clint Barton x F!Reader Prompt: "Can you just pretend to be my girlfriend for the next five minutes?"

Day Twenty-Six: Restoration || Bruce Banner x GN!Reader Prompt: "Hey, look at me. Focus on me, alright?"

Day Twenty-Seven: Count || Tony Stark x F!Reader *** Prompt: "I love it when you moan my name."

Day Twenty-Eight: Three A.M. || Clint Barton x F!Reader Prompt: "Wanna have a sleep over?"

Day Twenty-Nine: Shards of Glass || Bucky Barnes x F!Reader *** Prompt: "Is that vodka? At seven in the morning?"

Day Thirty: Echo || Tony Stark x F!Reader Prompt: "I'm really happy that you're here with me."

Day Thirty-One: Green Light || Clint Barton x F!Reader *** Prompt: "You can finish if you beg."

[sokovianheadtilt]

Pleasing Her, Pleasing Them

Natasha Romanoff x wife!reader

Summary: Nat finally introduces the team to her wife and daughter

Warnings: none I don’t think

A/N: Part 2 to Darlings and Darlings, hope you enjoy!!

Divider by @promenadewithme-graphics

Word Count: 1.1k

Part 1

Natasha loved everyone on the team, she truly did, but there were elements to her life that she wanted to keep to herself. She liked her quiet domestic life, even if it didn’t fit the badass aesthetic she portrayed to her friends and the public. She knew that behind closed doors she wouldn’t hesitate to cuddle up to her wife after a hard day, whining whenever she had to leave the bed. She was a total softie when it came to her, but no one needed to know that.

Nat never really talked about work after she left the compound. It was an unspoken rule within the house and she had no issue abiding by it. So when her tiny wife padded up to her and asked to meet the team, she was a little shook at the request.

“Come on it could be fun!” Y/N whined “I’ve been on maternity leave for months and I don’t go anywhere except for a quick drive to the store when Hera needs some stuff. And you’ve worked with these guys for years. I wanna meet them” she pouted a bit and looked up at Natasha

Nat sighed as Y/N continued “And besides, Hera has an aunt and a bunch of uncles she hasn’t even met yet”

Nat chuckled a bit “I know, I just never thought you wanted to meet them or had any interest to”

Y/N moved closer to her and reached up on her toes to wrap her arms around Nat’s neck “I wasn’t at first but then you started to tell little stories of the stupid things those guys do and they seem like they’re harmless. They’re your second family and I wanna meet them”

Nat smiled softly and leaned down to kiss her forehead gently “I’ll talk to them and if they want to meet you and Hera, and if I think I can trust them, then you guys can meet”

Y/N squealed and pecked her lips multiple times “Yay! Thank you, I’m finally getting out of this house”

Nat laughed as she watched Y/N pull away and go down the hall to see if Hera was awake.

Natasha walked into the living room of the compound where everyone was watching a movie. Bucky and Sam were sitting on the couch, occasionally shoving each other to make the other move, Thor and Bruce were sitting beside each other on the floor, talking to each other about the movie, Wanda curled up beside Vision on a loveseat and Steve and Tony sitting beside Thor and Bruce.

Nat grabbed the remote and turned the tv off, turning to face the others who yelled out in protest

“The hell Romanoff?” Tony spoke up

“Shut up” she set the remote back down “You’re all already here and I have things I need to talk to you guys about” They all stayed silent and waited for her to continue. She let out a soft breath before speaking “I have a wife a daughter”

Everyone exchanged looks before looking at Nat who set her hands on her hips “You guys knew didn’t you?”

Steve spoke up “It was Sam’s idea to follow you,” he said quickly as Sam gasped “Wow, thanks asshole” “I told you I’d throw you under the bus”

Nat interrupted them and put her hand out to tell them to be quiet “Okay, I don’t care, I don’t even wanna know how you found out unless it stayed between the people in this room”

Sam nodded “Of course it did”

Nat sighed softly before Tony asked, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I didn’t tell you guys because I wanted to keep my Avengers life and my home life separate. And I wanted to keep both of them safe. Yeah, you guys are both my family but can you try and see where I’m coming from?”

Tony sighed a bit before nodding “I get it, I’d probably do the same”

Steve chuckled “What are their names?”

Nat grinned “Y/N and Hera”

“Hera? Like the goddess of marriage and childbirth?”

Natasha nodded “Yeah. Y/N’s big on greek mythology and with Hera being our first child, she thought it’d be fitting”

“Aw that’s pretty sweet, when do we meet them?”

Nat shrugged “Depending on our schedules, I’ll have to ask Y/N and I’ll let you guys know”

Steve smiled “We can’t wait to meet them”

The day came two weeks later after they were given a day off after a rough mission. It was an understatement to say that Y/N was nervous. She didn’t know what to expect being a room full of superheroes, but from what she’d been told, they seem harmless. She held a curious Hera in her arms who was looking up at the tall building, babbling and setting her hands on Y/N’s shoulders.

Natasha looked at Y/N, wrapping an arm around her waist. “You ready?” Y/N nodded “Yeah” Nat nodded before leading them inside and saw everyone talking in the living room.

Nat spoke up to get their attention “They’re here”

Everyone turned their attention to the two as Y/N smiled nervously “H-hello”

Natasha looked at her “Don’t be shy sweetheart” she turned back to the others “This, is my beloved wife Y/N and our daughter Hera” They all smiled at Hera who’s trying to hide from everyone by burying her face in Y/N’s shoulder.

They all cooed at the sight before Nat led them over to sit down

“How’d you and Nat meet?” Sam asked

“Um, it was around 3 years ago, and I was set up on a date and the guy didn’t show, so I decided to drown my sorrows in alcohol until Natty saw me and made me feel better, and the rest is history” she giggled as Bucky snorted

“Natty?” Natasha glared at him “Try that again I’ll kill you a second” Bucky quickly shut his mouth.

Y/N looked at her “Stop threatening your friends” she stated as she set Hera on the floor to crawl around when she kept squirming in her arms.

Bucky smiled softly as she watched her “She’s adorable. How old is she?”

“Almost 8 months” Y/N answered “Seems like yesterday she was just born and Nat almost missed it”

Natasha gasped a bit “I was almost halfway across the world on a mission, I was lucky the quinjet moved fast enough”

Y/N rolled her eyes before smiling and starting a conversation with Tony.

After getting home and putting Hera to bed, Y/N went and laid beside Natasha who was watching a movie. Y/N laid her head on her chest before looking up at her “I had a great time tonight. Everyone was so nice and so good with Hera she was so happy around them”

Nat smiled down at her “I’m glad you had a good time baby”

Y/N grinned “I did. I feel more connected to you now. It really does feel like you live two separate lives”

“I know, but I love both of them and now they’re connected”

Y/N nodded "And they will be for the rest of our lives"

[nightowlwriting]

summary: steve is acting weird. avoiding you, being snippy and mean, leaving the room when you enter. all you want is your boyfriend back, but all he wants is to pretend you don't exist. when he's almost hurt on a mission, you do what you're made to do.

word count: 11k

reader specifics: no race/gender/sexuality/body type mentioned, no pronouns for reader used, powered!reader, insecure!reader

warnings: steve is mean to the reader in the beginning, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, canon-level violence, brief ptsd symptoms, slight description of blood, brief mention of racism in the '30s & '40s

brief mentions of: reader's parents being toxic, homelessness, past accidents, ableism in the past & present

note: this one hurt me lmfao. idk why this went the way it did but i'm not mad at it // also i am a queer, trans, disabled american. i have fundamental disagreements with things that marvel/the mcu as it stands for and some of the more nuanced things that you might not notice unless you're looking for it. this will take place in my writing because i cannot separate myself from the lens in which i consume/create content.

title credit: lil nas x

mobile masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his. Sure - he’s clever, righteous, courteous… You can’t forget he’s also drop-dead gorgeous because every trashy gossip magazine in a three-state radius of New York doesn’t let you forget. Neither does the sight of him waking up in your bed every morning. (Well, actually, maybe that would remind you if he was still fucking doing that.)

But lately, you’ve had to rely on the fucking tabloids to catch a glimpse of your super-hero boyfriend. The university class you had picked up on a whim at the end of the summer - Life & Times of the ‘30s and ‘40s - avoids any mention of Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos. Not that your classmates do because, Christ on a bike, those magazines manage to catch pictures of you and Steve in moments that you don’t even remember. Plus, you’re an Avenger too. It’s bound to catch some attention when you waltz into a college classroom.

You’re sure if you were an undergrad trying to fill a gen-ed requirement and were sitting next to someone who could kill you without blinking but also dating Captain Rogers you’d be a little distracted too. You try not to blame your classmates too much, but they do make it hard to concentrate with their -really dating Captain America?- and -wonder if I could get an autograph- whispers. None of that matters because you’re learning, really studying, in between missions and missing Steve and believing that maybe the gossip reporters are right.

Maybe he’s forgotten about you.

You grit your teeth and push the thought away. It does you no good right now, while you’re training with Peter. He’s working his way up to bona fide missions and, because you’re the only one on the team who has experience with real-life teenagers outside of saving their lives, it’s up to you to get him to the level that he needs to be. Plus, the mission where he’s going to get his gills wet is just you, Tony, Steve, Nat, and Bucky. You’d much rather be the one to train him because you won’t traumatize him.

Right now, though, you’re just kicking his ass to try and get rid of some of the tension in your body. You feel a little bad about it, but when you started as his mentor you told him point-blank that you’d never go easy on him. That meant if you were having a bad day he either needed to up his game or he’d have a bad day too. It appears he’s taken that to heart as he struggles to dodge the hits you’re throwing his way. He lunges out of the way when you try to land a right hook but practically walks into the leg sweep that sends him crashing to the ground.

“Awe,” Peter groans, letting his guard down. You take the momentary lapse of focus to grab him by the collar of the hoodie he’s wearing and haul him to his feet, jerking one fist back to cold-clock him but he beats you to it. You hear the sound of your nose cracking before you feel it but then the pain rushes you all at once. You’ve had worse but coming from Peter, the move surprises you. You don’t yell out but he does when you push him away from you and call the fight off. Peter practically yelps your name, hands up by his head as he watches you bend at the waist, both hands over where your nose is absolutely gushing blood. “I am so sorry, I just reacted-!”

“It’s fine, Pete,” You shake your head and stand straight again, the blood beginning to leak through your fingers, “Just go get me a towel, okay?” Peter practically trips over his feet to get something for your nose and as you track him on his way into the locker rooms, you see Steve, Bucky, and Nat. The latter are looking your way, eyebrows raised like they’re asking you if you’re okay. Steve hasn’t even broken stride in his conversation so you wave them off with a bloody hand. Peter’s back in a flash, pressing a wet towel into your grasp and snapping you out of your self-pity party. “It was a good hit,” You compliment as you wipe your face off, “I just wasn’t expecting it. Prob’ly wouldn't have landed it if I had.”

He wrings his hands, shifting from foot to foot. “I’m sorry-”

“It’s a good thing, Peter, means you’re getting better.” You deadpan, checking to see if your nose has stopped bleeding yet, “I don’t think you actually broke it, but I’ll go down to medical to check later.” You do your best to clean up your hands with the wet towel, but it’s so soaked with your blood that it mostly just smears it around. You grimace and shake your head. “Well, I should go now before our sparring match ends up looking like I murdered you.”

“I’ll go with,” He offers, “I’m the one who broke your nose.” You let Peter walk you down to medical even though you were originally going to refuse. Perhaps petty, but it was the way that Steve didn’t even look your way as you left that made you let the teenager walk you the two floors to where you’d be able to clean yourself up. He hums in the elevator and you know that he wants to ask you something - it’s the way he holds his mouth when he’s prying for information or keeping a secret that tips you off. Finally, just before the elevator opens, you sigh and turn to him.

“What, Peter?” He grins but then it falls when he has to skitter after you down the hall. Maybe that’s why it falls - the question he asks next nearly sends you to your ass.

“Is everything okay with you and Captain Rogers?” He easily catches up to you when you stop in your tracks, ignoring that you’re still bleeding a little bit down your face and you might be dripping blood everywhere from where it’s run down your arms.

“What?” You do your best to look confused like everything is fine, but Peter is perceptive. He may fumble around and be pretty awkward, but those are really just teenager things that he’ll hopefully outgrow. You should have known that when someone caught onto how bad things are on your end, it would be Peter. (You wonder if Nat or Bucky has brought it up with Steve, considering he’s spent more time with them in the past week than he’s seen you in the past month.) “We’re fine.” Your words are stilted as you begin walking to the medical wing much faster than before.

“I just thought I’d ask, well, because I’ve sort of noticed… Something just seems off, you know? Like, you two used to spend a lot of time together, and maybe it’s the recon mission coming up, but I was just thinking that you two really barely look at each other even when you’re in the same -”

“Peter!” You say his name much louder than either of you expected and both of you jump. “Peter,” You say softer, looking at the glass door to the medical wing instead of him, “Just leave it, okay? It’s nothing you have to worry about, kid.” Peter ducks around to open the door, forcing you to look at him. “He’s just focused on his stuff and I’m focused on getting you whipped into shape for this mission. We only have two days.” Once you’re inside and surrounded by the medical crew Tony keeps on staff, he thankfully drops it. You love Peter, you do, but it’s a lot like having a little brother. You can only love them so much before you want to fucking strangle them. Eventually, as the doctor checks to make sure he hasn’t broken your nose, you have to order him away to go study or something. “I’ll join you later,” You promise him as the doctor prods at your tender flesh, “I have an essay due soon.”

That’s another thing that’s been bugging you that Peter surely picked up on. Nearly everybody knew you were taking a course at the local community college, but nobody knew what it was about. You’d wanted to keep it a secret until you told Steve, but the day you had registered he’d flown out for a two-week mission without telling you or saying goodbye. After that, you decided it didn’t really matter if anyone knew what class you were taking, and keeping it a secret sort of spiraled from there. If they wanted to know they could look it up. Maybe it was petty, but you just wanted the class to be over and done with so you could forget that you really only picked it up so you relate to your boyfriend more.

If you can even call Steve your boyfriend anymore. You’re not so sure where you stand and, honestly, you’re really close to giving up on the relationship as a whole but you can’t do that. Before you were dating, you were friends, and Steve… He never gave up on you. Not once. How could you repay him by giving up on your relationship? The one that you thought was The One? Even if it hurts, even if you’re unsure more than sure these days, how could you? Somewhere, though, you know you deserve better. You don’t deserve the sinking, dark feeling that lingers in your gut for most of your days now or the way that you second-guess every move you make - even in the field. It’s dangerous but you can’t do anything to fix it.

You’re too scared. You know that eventually, it will happen, he’ll break up with you, but you’d like to put that day off for as long as possible. To relish in the love he once had for you, how pure and powerful it was. You’re sure that you’ll never experience anything like that again.

Hell, you might never fall in love again.

Those thoughts don’t do anything to help you, though, so you try not to have them. You get clearance from the doctor and get cleaned up as much as you can without taking a full body shower. The idea to go back to your room and take one crosses your mind but you know that Steve’s probably done training, probably heading back for his own shower, and you don’t want to open that can of worms. Instead, you go to the common room and drop into the couch between Peter and Tony. They’re talking about something something science something something, but you pull your stack of books and notebooks out from the shelf underneath the coffee table and continue outlining your essay from where you left off. The assignment was focused on how the end of WW1 changed American life and then how life changed leading up to and during WW2 but that had hit a little too close to home for you, so you’re writing about the racial tension and overall racism of the times. Tony and Peter keep talking over your back and then you hear footsteps heading toward the common room.

You barely look up when they enter - Nat and Bucky - because it’s fine. It’s normal. They’re just two of Steve’s best friends, that’s all, nothing to be jumpy about. You don’t even register that emotional pain that hits when you realize that, yeah, you’re not one of his best friends anymore. You doubt you’re even considered a friend in his book.

You groan and lean back into the couch, bringing your study materials with you. Peter glances over, skimming over your page and a half of shorthand, and gags. “Jesus, can you write like a normal person?”

“Oh, sorry,” You say lazily, not looking up as you continue to scribble in your incomprehensible code, “I do forget that some of us had privacy at home.” You lift your lips just a little bit to let Peter know you’re kidding, looking up at him through your lashes as you slouch next to him. He looks red in the face. “Besides, once you have to start doing mission reports you’ll be begging me to learn my shorthand and use my stenography machine.”

“I keep telling you that I can update that ol’ thing,” Tony draws your attention. For the first time, you realize that Nat and Bucky are on the loveseat looking at you expectantly. Steve is standing in the corner over their shoulder reading a book from the bookshelf in front of him. His back is tense and he looks like he’s not reading, just listening. You force your eyes back to Tony on your right and shake your head.

“No, because then you’d know my shorthand and it makes me too happy to see you spend hours trying to decipher it.” His eyes wander to your essay again, trying to find any patterns that he can use to figure out what the hell you’re writing on anything ever. He’s opening his mouth to make a smart-ass remark that will no doubt lift some of the weight off of your shoulders when another voice speaks up.

“Wow,” Steve doesn’t even look at you even as he says your name sardonically, “Way to be a team player.” Your mind comes to a screeching halt, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s playing at. Even Bucky and Nat look surprised at the cold way he spoke to you, Tony and Peter both gasping from your side. You can’t say anything, throat tight and burning with tears as you stare at your boyfriend with raised eyebrows. What do you say to that? How do you respond? You know it wasn’t a joke because he’s not laughing, not smiling, not even looking up from that fucking book in his hands. You can’t tell if you’re more hurt or embarrassed, but either way, you don’t want to stick around for someone to get the nerve to say something.

Instead of replying, you slam your textbooks shut and bundle everything into your arms. You doubt Steve even notices that you’re making such a hasty retreat but if he does, he doesn’t say a fucking thing. You feel like you’re in high school - practically running through an empty hallway with your notebooks and textbooks pressed to your chest, trying not to cry. It’s ridiculous. You’re a trained assassin, you’re an Avenger, you are strong and powerful and yet… And yet. You’ve given so much of your heart and soul to Steve Rogers that he can knock you down eight pegs without even trying. Without even looking at you. You can’t wait to go on this fucking recon mission, where you can put all of your focus on making sure Peter is doing okay and gathering the intel. Where you can stop thinking about how easily Steve Rogers seems to be pushing you to the side.

You spend the next two days writing your essay, ignoring almost everyone, and working on your essay. On the day of the recon mission, you’re running out the door for your eight a.m lecture, printed essay in hand, and reminding Tony that he promised to pick you up on campus after class for the mission.

You’re lucky that you went, too. You hadn’t counted on the professor making everyone stand up and tell the class the subject of their essays - didn’t realize that it would be twenty-five percent of the grade on the paper. You’ll never understand college professors and the weird shit they do, but the class is informative and entertaining. He goes around the room, starting on the opposite side of you, so you’ll be last. Great.

Several students did their papers on the propaganda of the time, one student was brave and did her essay on the ethical dilemma of the super-soldier serum and eugenics, and most of the other students focused on pop culture and how it changed. When your professor looks at you it’s almost like he’s expecting you to have done nothing but fawn over Steve and Bucky, considering you know them personally. He looks surprised when you clear your throat, stand and say: “I focused on the casual and institutional racism that faced non-white Americans at the time.” You almost preen when he looks impressed and then the shame fills you. It’s just… You want Steve to be proud of you. You want him to congratulate you on going back to school, even if it’s just for one class. You want him to be happy and surprised that he was the inspiration for taking the class.

Though, lately, the class has been more for you than for him. You like learning new things, pushing the boundaries of assignments, making people uncomfortable with the truth of the times you’re studying as told to you by two people who lived it. It’s nice. Normal.

Everyone needs a little bit of normal.

But, honestly, normal is fucking boring. By the time your class is over and you’re handing in your essay it’s like ants are crawling over your skin. A combination of nerves from the upcoming mission, a head full of fog from whatever is happening with Steve, and a little bit of fear at the thought of taking Peter into the field has you bolting for the door the moment your essay is taken from you. You’d worn your tac-suit underneath a pair of baggy sweats and a loose hoodie, so you don’t even bother slowing down as you head toward the car that Tony has waiting for you. He’s in the front seat, grinning at you from underneath his aviators and Peter is driving.

You slip into the backseat without thinking or looking at who’s there, tossing your bag in the back and peeling your hoodie off. “God, Tone, we’re goin’ to die before we even get to the mission with Petey driving.” You toss your hoodie back to join your bag and finally see who’s sitting next to you.

Of course, it’s Steve. He’s looking at you - but not really. He’s looking through you, like he can’t stand that you’re both crammed in the backseat of Tony’s electric car. His gaze catches you and holds you in place. Everything around you goes cold and fuzzy, making you miss Peter’s indignant complaining that he has his license so he should be able to drive… And then Steve scoffs and looks out his window, ignoring you. It stings but you have a job to do. You make some witty retort back to Peter, but it falls flat as you struggle out of your sweats. This is what life is, you think. Relationships aren’t meant to be forever - you learned that at a young age.

Until your accident at fifteen, you had watched your parents run out of helium, their relationship expanding and cooling in arguments, in days spent not talking, in trips to your grandparents without the other, in passive-aggressive computer searches for divorce attorneys left open for anyone to see. Then, after you were trapped between those machines - after you spent hour after agonizing hour with electricity pressing between your atoms, being torn apart and rebuilt as a young god - after that day you watched them expand against each other before the neutron core of their relationship collapsed on itself and the resulting supernova sent you to the streets. But then Fury found you. Then Tony, then Nat, then Steve.

Your parents exploded out from each other and the shockwaves ruined your life. At least now, your relationship with Steve is ending silently. There’s no explosion, no collapse, no rapid expansion to take over your cosmos. Your relationship with Steve is simply approaching the event horizon, where it will hang in the air until one of you takes the final step and you both become frozen, two collapsing objects on opposite sides of the universe. Maybe that’s what you already are. You feel so far away from him in the back of Tony’s car - like he’s eons and light-years away from you - and you feel so cold. Frozen, down to the bone. It makes you stiff in your replies to Tony and Peter, slow on the uptake when the car pulls up to the quinjet, nearing stasis and unable to respond when Nat asks if you’re okay.

Finally, you turn to look at her, nodding. “Fine,” You clear your throat, “Been a rough day.” You do your best to smile at her, but your face feels heavy. Your chest feels cold and tight, making you worry about your performance on the upcoming mission. When Peter shakes his head next to you, discreetly telling Nat not to press, you’re focused on Steve and the electricity humming in the most base part of your body.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. You turn away and force yourself to smile, throwing a weak and numb arm over Peter’s shoulders. “Are you ready for this, Pete?” You jostle him back and forth, leading him toward the sitting area behind the cockpit. “Gonna get your ass kicked?”

“Please,” He shoves you off, nervously laughing, “Not with the skills you’ve taught me.” He mimics throwing webs, making hissing noises under his breath, and you bark out a laugh, shaking your head.

“You’re payin’ my medical bills when I have to save your ass, Spidey.” You shake your head and strap in next to the wall, Peter taking the seat to your right. Tony, from the aisle across from you, points a thick finger your way.

“You don’t pay medical bills anymore,” He waggles his finger, “So you’ll just have to make him do your homework for a week.”

“Mister Stark!”

“He’ll have to earn shorthand to do your essays,” Nat chimes in from between Bucky and Steve, who are both doing their best to not look at you - or anyone really. “You willing to share that with him?”

You lean back in your seat and jab at Peter with your elbow. “Hell no, so I guess Spider-Boy better do his best.” The arachnid in question grumbles, crossing his arms and slouching in his seat.

“No pressure, right?” He complains, “Not like I’m already nervous or anything.”

“You’ll do fine, kid,” Bucky pipes up, drawing your eyes back to Steve, “It’s goin’ to be a cakewalk.”

“Don’t jinx it, Barnes,” You warn half-heartedly, tucking in on yourself, “We need this to be easy.” From the look on his face - everyone’s face, really - you know that they heard you loud and clear when you were really saying I need this to be easy.

After an uneasy laugh from Bucky, a claustrophobic silence settles over you all as the jet begins to take off. You’re in for an hour ride and plan to spend it going over battle plans with Peter when harsh whispering catches your ear. It’s Bucky and Steve nearly crushing Nat between them until she gets up and sits across from Peter, rolling her eyes. Still, you try your best to run him through the actions you both had planned - the names, the setups you needed to execute them, everything. If something happens to Peter, you’ll never forgive yourself.

And then, cutting through your soft promptings to Peter and his equally soft replies, Bucky’s voice. “Leave it, Steve. Until after this mission.” Even Tony looks up from his tablet, curiosity piqued. Their faces are both red, set hard and angry at each other and your stomach drops. What the hell is going on that Steve ‘Till The End Of The Line Rogers is fighting with Bucky You And Me, Pal Barnes? You must shift, or lean too far into Steve’s eyesight, because for the first time in what feels like years he is looking directly at you - and seeing you, too. It makes your pulse jump and, almost instinctively, you want to reach out and ground yourself on the rubber of the seat underneath you.

You don’t get the chance, though, because Steve speaks. “No, why should I? This is clearly affecting the team.” He’s still looking - glaring - at you like you’ve done something wrong. “What’s the point of waiting? I’ve been waiting to talk about this.”

“Bo, I don’t think this is the time,” Bucky looks over his shoulder at you, then, and you know what’s coming. You know that it’s time, that Steve is about to break up with you in front of your teammates. Your friends. Your family. You steel yourself for the anguish you’re about to feel and then jerk your chin out, hardening your resolve.

“Buck, it’s fine. If Steve wants to address something, he can.”

Natasha says your name, a low warning over the hum of the quinjet. “I think he should wait.”

“Well, I’m not goin’ to wait!” Steve unbuckles himself and stands, “I have tried waiting, and look at where that has gotten me.” He puts his hands on his hips and puffs out a breath. You unbuckle and stand, too, unsure of where this is going. “You need to,” He holds one hand out, pointing at you while his voice shakes. You notice his hand is shaking, too, but fractionally. If you didn’t know Steve as well as you do you may have never noticed it. “You need to get it together.”

“I need to get it together?” You question, eyebrows nearly hitting the ceiling with how fast they shoot up. You’re not totally sure you’ve heard him right because what do you have to get together? The broken shards of your relationship? The information and research for your final paper? The awful way you’ve let yourself be treated for what seems like forever?

“You heard me,” Steve says, at the same time Bucky leans his head back and groans deep in his chest. “What? Someone had to say it.”

“We should wait for this,” Nat speaks up again, but lifelessly. She knows now that you and Steve are both on the warpath, neither of you are going to stop. (That’s also why the two of you work together as a couple so well. Very rarely are you both so worked up about something that you can’t back down, so the other is always there to meet you halfway and get you back to earth.)

“No, no, no,” You say, near hysterically, “No, he wants to do this now? Before a mission? Instead of the fuckin’ weeks we had to hash whatever crawled up his ass and died out? Be my guest. He’s already dragged everyone into this by treating me like a pariah.” You’re not sneering, but your teeth are gritted so tightly together you can hear them scraping and feel a tension headache beginning to bloom in your temples. Bucky looks… Almost incredulous at your statement. Like putting the blame on Steve is a dick move or something.

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy here?” Steve is curling his lip, glaring at you. There’s something behind his eyes, but he’s buried it so deep that you can’t reach it and figure out what it is. “I’m the bad guy, right. Right, right, right.” He scoffs, shakes his head, and then he’s running his fingers through his hair like he really can’t believe what you’re saying to him.

“Well, what else am I supposed to think?” You throw your hands out to the side and let them slap back down on your thighs. “You ignore me, you make me feel like shit, you talk down to me like I’m some insignificant foot soldier. How else am I supposed to take that, Steve?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe ask me what’s wrong? Maybe ask me why I’m acting like this, instead of ignoring all of your problems like a child?” He mirrors your moments, but the sound his hands make when they hit the outside of his suit is more powerful than yours. Fueled by anger, you think. Anger and whatever the hell was in the serum Erskine pumped into Steve.

“Ask you?” You repeat, near-hysterical, “Ask you? Oh yeah, let me get right on that. Hey, Mister Rogers? Mister Captain America? Mister Ignores-His-Partner-For-God-Knows-Why? Hey, just why are you doin’ that?” You’re surprised that you’ve said something so snotty, but you don’t back down. (Steve looks surprised, too, and Bucky has stood up next to his friend like he’s about to start berating you as well. At least he looks more cautious about it, like he’s not totally sure that this fight should be happening.)

The more surprising part of your fight is how fast it’s shut down. Tony and Nat stand at the same time and exchange a glance like they’ve surprised each other. “That’s enough,” Tony starts.

Nat cuts him off. “I don’t care if you fight this one out instead of talking, but if you do it before this recon mission you two are going to blow it. Do you understand me?” She looks dangerous, the sharp edge of a knife spiraling through the air. You force yourself to look away from her, from Tony, from Bucky, from Steve. She’s right. You know she’s right - especially on this mission. Peter is there, going to be in real danger even though there’s not supposed to be one Hydra agent in a four-mile radius. You have to clear your mind and focus on protecting him.

Steve seems to think the same thing because he stands down. When you watch him collapse in on himself, Bucky’s arms around his shoulders, into the little quinjet seats your everything aches. Heart, lungs, eyes - everything. Even though you don’t know what’s going on, what could have possibly happened to make your relationship sink this quickly and out of the blue, you still love him. He’s still The One for you. You still want to be the one to comfort him and make him feel whole when he’s struggling.

But you can’t. You can’t and it kills you.

The heat of battle makes a lot of things fade into the background. Important things like why the fuck are there Hydra agents here? and Steve is going to break up with you when you get back on the jet and Tony swore on the fucking limited edition AC/DC vintage tour poster he has in his office that this would be an easy in/easy out information mission. None of that matters, though, because you’re in deep shit. There are seventeen of them, all primed to the teeth with weapons made to take your team down permanently.

You’re practically glued to Peter, calling out commands and plans for him to initiate. It’s when all of your plans fall through that you take a hit from a heavy fist on purpose, hitting the ground hard. “Plan F, Spidey, Plan F!” You cover the instruction with a groan and then you’re back on your feet, working your way toward him.

“Plan F?” Tony says, somewhere above you in his suit. Your comms crackle ominously as another heat-seeking grenade is launched, interfering with the radio waves your tech relies on. You don’t worry about it, because you know Tony is on it. He’s your eyes in the sky.

Peter is the one who answers his question, watching your close hand-to-hand tilt out of your favor briefly. “Plan Fuck It, Mister Stark.” He grunts as he webs up a Hydra agent, jerking him away from where he was about to slip a knife up and under Natasha’s kevlar. You finally drop the guy in front of you, ignoring Steve’s disappointed Language! and toss one of your knives toward Nat for her to use. Tony is still laughing in your ear, wheezing as he drops down and snags the rifle from one of the snipers and then takes back off.

What your little protégé failed to mention about Plan F is that it’s not just chaos, but controlled chaos. You let loose, letting a soft current cover every inch of your skin as Peter switches to his conductive webbing and takes special care to not web any of his allies. Except for you - if you’re in the way and he catches you in a web it doesn’t matter because you’re you, alive with electricity that drops the men that get caught in the web, too. You rip out of the webs and turn the current off when one of your teammates gets too close.

More Hydra agents are pouring out of the woods, topping out their numbers around twenty-five. That’s twenty-five too many in your opinion, especially when you can see Peter getting tired, his anxiety spiking, his moves having more and more hesitation behind them. You need to get this over with quickly, but you don’t have the options to do that. Steve, Bucky, and Nat are really the heavy-hitters - you, Pete, and Tony are the only ones without serums despite all of your individual abilities. Desperately you reach out for a web that’s still connected to Peter’s arms, pulling him out of the way of a baton that’s about to come down on the back of his neck.

The baton the agent is wielding glints in the coming dusk, freezing you as Peter scrambles past you with a quick apology. You’ve seen that before - seen it, felt it, know it like the back of your hand. There’s no way that you could ever forget that weapon. The man stumbles when his hit doesn’t connect but then rights himself and searches for a new target.

A long, black baton that splits into two prongs at the end is heavy in his hand. Electricity crackles between the bulbs at the end, flashing in the setting sun and your memories. The man only has one, but if it was hooked up to a machine, spinning. If there were four, five, six. If you were pinned between them, screaming in the pain as they rewrote your DNA… You’ve only felt it once, but you’ll never forget it.

And now, you’ll taste it again. On purpose this time. The man holding the stun baton is going for Steve’s back - his strong back, the one that protects people, the one that holds the weight of the world, the one that lays in your bed, the one you see whipping out of rooms as you’re entering just so that he doesn’t have to look at you - and you can’t let that happen. It only takes ten amps to kill a regular human, but you know those things are cranked up to twenty minimum. You don’t want to see how many amps of current it will take to stop Steve’s heart. You’re between the baton and Steve before you can think about what you’re doing or what comes next, the hard bulbs settling unyielding into your side and cranking out maximum power for maximum damage as soon as the current is connected and able to flow from one bulb to the other.

The pain hits you and your throat catches on it. It burns through your body, setting everything on fire - your chest hurts as your heart protests the electrons and then your powers kick in, sweeping them into your very atoms and cells. You’re a live wire now, ears humming and body thrumming with power you’ve only dreamed of. It hurts, and it burns, and you feel tears rising in your eyes because you’re back there - back begging for death or for life or for God and god at the same time - but then it’s over. The man sees that you’re not seizing up, not dropping dead in front of him, and he takes three steps back.

It’s not far enough.

You’ve only felt like this once before - right after you were unhooked from the machine that changed your life and brought you to your new family. You remember how you looked when you were put in front of a mirror with all of the pent up electricity circling your body - how your eyes were filled to the brim and dripping with bright and blue electricity, the way it was jumping across your body, how you didn’t need to breathe because your body was fully saturated with pure, unadulterated power. You wonder if you look like that now and assume you do because you can see the bright blue reflecting in the terrified eyes of the Hydra agent.

Your suit, unlike everyone else’s, is not grounded. It’s metal, metal, metal. You’re made to conduct, born for it, and the earth beneath you comes alive with bright white as you release all of the energy, the power, surges down and out. You’re practiced. You can reach out and feel the synapses and neurons of every human being in the clearing, know exactly where your teammates are standing, and know exactly how to target everything but them and the pitiful amount of electricity their brains carry. You grin, something truly feral and unhinged, and you can see the fear in the Hydra agent. Then, you let go.

You know that everyone is going to be pissed. (Maybe not everyone.) You’re not built for this, not made to take down nearly twenty fucking people at once. As you let go, you feel what they feel. The seizing muscles, the stopping of their hearts, the inside of their bodies crisping against their bones. At that moment, that delicious moment, you see the universe.

You become God. You become everything - your mother and your father and God and god and anyone else who’s watching your life from the ether. You become the judge, jury, and executioner of souls that you don’t know from Adam. You become lightning, and thunder, and exposed nerves of the cosmos at the same time. The world bends to your will and you relish in it, taking that power in your fist and wielding it to protect the man you’ll love for the rest of your life and the family that you’ve made. You will stop at nothing to end this, even if it means turning yourself inside out to do it.

You damn near do turn yourself inside out too, but that doesn’t matter, does it? The blood spilling from your ears, nose, and eyes feels like heaven. It’s hot, and thick, and it’s proof of the power that your body holds. You’re a temple and a sanctuary, a war-room and a bunker, a field of flowers and a sun-dry desert. It does not matter if Steve doesn’t love you at that moment, because you are love and hate wrapped into one package. You are everything and nothing, spread thin at the beginning and the end of time.

And then none of that is true. You are just… You. Standing in a clearing, surrounded by twenty-something dead Hydra agents and your terrified, terrified family. It hurts to breathe and you can taste blood in your mouth, but that’s an afterthought. Steve is still standing behind you, but he is alive. That is what matters.

This is what love is, you think.

Pain and pleasure.

Even if he leaves you, you will always love him.

Pain and pleasure.

You’re weak at the knees when he finally turns to see you - and you’re a sight. Struggling to stand, fingertips blackened with soot but not burnt, blood pouring from your nose, ears, eyes… You look like death, but you feel like life. Someone says something behind you - Peter, maybe? Or maybe Tony, in your comms? - but you don’t hear it. Everything tunnels out, your weak knees finally collapsing as you keel backward.

Steve bears down upon you almost immediately. You’re halfway to unconsciousness when he wraps you up in his arms, keeping you from falling in with the pile of bodies around you. He’s saying your name, harsh and soft and then in a voice like he’s ordering you to wake up. You loll about as he drops you down onto a patch of clear grass, hands searching your body for wounds. When he skims over your side, where the baton has burnt through your suit and your flesh, you surge back toward being able to have cohesive thoughts. The pain brings you back, hands wrapping around Steve’s arm and calling out his name. “Steve! Fuck, that hurts!”

“Honey,” He breathes, “Fuck, we have to get you back to the jet.” His jaw ticks, hair dirty and loose from its normal style. “Why’d you do that?” Steve doesn’t wait for an answer from you, ordering Peter to web something up to carry you over your protests.

“I’m fine,” You argue, only slurring slightly, “I feel fine.” But you’re going to let Nat and Bucky load you up on the webbed stretcher anyway because it’s the first time Steve has cared for you in a long time. You want to relish in this moment, the way that he didn't say your name but called you honey.

Well, and because Natasha slides a thumb across her neck over Steve’s shoulder in a silent threat.

You groan when Bucky accidentally grabs your calf where there is an absolutely awful stab wound, but you wave off his apology. “How could you have known?” To be honest, you hadn’t even known it was there until his Vibranium hand was slipping against it and sending shockwaves of pain through you. Peter is next to you the whole time that you’re being carried back to the jet - Tony staying back to begin scanning the bodies of the Hydra agents for the information you need and any other information they may be carrying. The poor kid is nearly at a breakdown, so you reach out to him and shake his arm when his fingers twine with yours. “Chill out, kid, I don’t know how you got it into your head that this is your fault, but it sure isn’t.” He sniffles, but hands back with Steve as Bucky and Nat get you situated in the small medical room of the jet. They transfer you and then make to leave, only Bucky hesitating near the door.

“Stevie’s goin’ to be here soon and… I don’t know what made you do what you did but you have’t explain it to him. He’s bendin’ over backwards to figure it out, and we don’t have’a clue. Came out’a nowhere.” He looks at you for another moment before shaking his head and stepping out of the room. Your head is spinning, partially from what Bucky just said and partially from the pain and stimulus of electricity. You wait there, then, because this is it. This is the event horizon. You wait there, eyes closed, until you hear footsteps approach the med room, and then the door slowly opens. Steve says your name, holding all the finality and weight of an atomic bomb. You don’t open your eyes until he swings a chair next to the stretcher and lays a hand on your calf.

“You don’t have to do this,” You finally say, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him. “I know that you don’t want to.” Steve only scoffs and begins to wash the stab wound using a packet of soap and a water bottle. You say his name twice before he looks at you, something between hate and hurt curdling into a glaze over his eyes that stops you in your tracks.

“Just let me do this. It is the least that you can do.” His words are painful and stilted, like it’s taking force to push them past his teeth. You lay back down and close your eyes, content to just feel the pain of Steve beginning to stitch you up and then dress the wound before you feel the pain of Steve leaving you like you knew he always would. (Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his.)

When he’s done he sits back and puts his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He heaves a heavy sigh and then shakes it off, “I’ll dress your burn, and then we’ll talk.” And normally, yes, you would agree but this is too important. You want to get it over with so you can lick your wounds metaphorically and dress them literally - and then you want to go home, you want to pack your bags, and you want to disappear and remake your life somewhere else.

Some far-off place where everyone you know won’t take one look at your face and know that you’re still painfully, deeply in love with Steve Rogers, end of your semester be damned. Family you’ve made be damned. You can’t sit around and be in love with him like a neon sign on a dark highway while it’s painfully clear that he hasn’t had a sign on his highway in a long time.

So instead of agreeing, you swing your legs over the stretcher and swallow your flinch when the burn pulls tight. Steve opens his mouth to argue but you give him a tight-lipped shake of your head and his jaw snaps shut. “No,” You say, voice not giving in to the emotion swirling in your chest. “I have let this go on long enough.”

It’s the wrong thing to say because Steve fucking scoffs again and looks away from you. “One day was long enough.” He says, cutting straight to your core. Okay, ouch. You take a deep breath and shake your head to try and bite back the tears that are inevitably rising in your eyes. If one day was long enough for him to realize he doesn’t want to be with you, why did he let it go on for nearly a full year? Why did he spend so long leading you on, pulling you by a thread before garroting your heart with it? What was the point?

“If you want to leave me, just say that,” You reply harshly, standing and wobbling away from him. He just watches you go, watches the way you struggle past the lead weights your muscles have become, the way you’re starting to feel the stab wound on your leg, the way the skin on your burn is beginning to blister and only just now losing its heat. He just watches you, where the Steve that loved you once upon a time might have helped. You turn your back on him, hands on your hips so that you can hide the way that you’re crying and your hands are shaking.

“If I want to leave you? If?” He says. You hear the scrape of his chair as he stands, “I think after what you’ve done, it’s not an if, sweetheart.” The way he says it tastes like iron. Steve never calls you sweetheart like he never calls you by your name. It’s always honey, lover, dovie. You don’t turn to face him because you’re struggling to keep yourself above water. “I spent so long thinkin’, wonderin’, askin’ myself - God damnit, will you look at me?” You turn slowly, not because you’ve never heard Steve speak like that but because his voice is desperate and raw. When you turn, you’re not sure what to expect. Maybe him, standing in front of you, broad-shouldered and disappointed like in those PSA’s he had to film once. Maybe he’d be angry, hands clenched at his sides and eyes narrowed like he gets in meetings when he doesn’t agree with something but he’s out-voted. But you never expect to see him crying, lip wobbling, folded in on himself like a young boy instead of the strong, invincible man you’ve come to love.

He looks so different.

It hits you, then, that you’re not looking at Steve Rogers. Not really. He's not Steve Rogers, not Captain America, not even Captain Rogers. You see him as he was - before America spat it’s untruths all over him and injected him with a serum that changed who he was, is, will be. He’s not the able-bodied man that you know, not strong and unreachable, not the heartthrob that overshadows the team during press events. He’s not America’s Darling, not really. Not where it counts.

You’re looking at Stevie Rogers. Stevie Rogers who, for all intents and purposes, was supposed to die before he made it out of toddlerhood or soon thereafter. Stevie Rogers who the doctors said wasn’t supposed to survive. Stevie Rogers who grew up sickly, rattling painful breaths and never playing ball with the neighborhood boys. Who couldn’t walk until middle school when he got his braces off. Who never had a partner because Bucky, strong and handsome and tall Bucky, was always deemed the better option. Who believed in his country so much that he tried to sneak into the second world war, subjected himself to a painful medical procedure so that he could change his very DNA to be what the world wanted him to be.

Captain Steve Rogers. Captain America. Strong, blond, patriotic, resilient.

You’re sure that if men don’t want to go to therapy now, in the modern age, they certainly didn’t want to go in the ‘40s. So where did that leave Steve, your Steve, standing in front of you and looking small, and broken, and sad, and alone? Did they expect him to take his new, taller, working body and run with it? Did they not think about how he would lose a part of himself in the process? How did they expect him to go from disabled to abled without some disconnect?

You think about the You That You Were Before and the You That You Are Now, and how you lost a part of yourself when the accident gave you your powers and how you’d lose yourself if someone figured out a way to take them away. You Before formed your identity around being normal - living in a shitty home with shitty parents, sure, but normal - and You Now form your identity around your powers, your team, your job, your love. If you lost those things, what did you have left? Who would you be?

When Steve lost his identity and became everything that America wanted everyone to think that America was, what did he have left? Sure, he could tell himself that he represents America - strong and patriotic and just - but it must have conflicted with everything he knew about himself before that. You know that disabled people now know that American society is unjust, unfit for them with abled people not willing to make room to allow them to thrive. You can only imagine what it was really like for Steve in the ‘20s and ‘30s and ‘40s. What he had to do just to survive. (Medical experimentation, you remind yourself. Did they know it wouldn’t kill him? Did they know his body wouldn’t rip itself apart with the new sinewy muscle they were packing on? Did they care? Or was he just a body they saw as broken? A project to fix? To turn him into something more like them and call it patriotism?)

You shake your head at him, still filled with despair, and try to figure out what he’s talking about. “Stevie,” You start, pet name easily replacing what you had been calling him because it’s not fair to shoe-horn him into a body that doesn’t feel like his own. You wonder if he still expects the bone-grinding pain that he used to tell you would happen when it rains. He raises a hand, a strong and family hand, shaking his head.

“I just need to know why I wasn’t enough for you,” Steve looks sad, slouching in on himself like he’s expecting to get his ass handed to him in another alleyway and hope Bucky is there to save him. “I need to know why you wouldn’t just break up with me if you wanted to see other people so badly.” You suck in a shocked breath because, okay, that’s not what you were expecting. Between that and the paradigm shift you’ve had on how Steve must view his identity, body, and self, you’re stunned. Steve continues like he doesn’t even register that you look shocked and pale and now you’re crying because he thinks you’re cheating on him? “And I get it. I get it. You have no idea how much I understand. If I were you, I wouldn’t want me either, okay?”

You cut him off there because what the actual God damn fuck is he talking about? “No, Stevie, I’m not cheating on you.” You shake your head again and this, your statement, lights a fire in him. He still looks like Stevie rather than Steve, but there’s anger there. You imagine that’s what it might have looked like moments before he got himself in trouble back before he was serumed. “I’m not.”

“Oh, yeah?” He challenges, jaw ticking and chin jerking up, “Oh, yeah? You can’t lie to me. I know, okay? The act is up, it’s over, I know, okay? You can stop pretending.”

“Steve, I do not fucking know what you’re talking about but I”m not cheating on you!” You raise your voice, not really angry but more out of necessity. You need to get it out of his head that he is anything less than everything you want - that you could possibly love anyone more than you love him.

“I wanted to clarify something for you,” Steve says like he’s reading an old script from when he was just a beefy, red/white/blue stage prop for the American military, “I am excited to meet with you, but there are some rules. Do not talk about Captain Steve Rogers. I don’t want to hear about him,” As he continues to recite something that has clearly hurt him, you go lax. You know exactly what’s happened - your fists unclench, your jaw drops a little bit, and it feels like someone has gutted you, “I think it is wise to keep work and pleasure separate, and it’s a rule I will enforce heavily. I look forward to seeing you again.” He’s sneering at the end, tears falling down his ruddy cheeks.

“Steve,” You try again, but he cuts you off.

“Am I just work for you?” His voice is shaking more than you thought possible, and so are his hands. You’ve never seen Steve so off-kilter, so thrown, and it breaks your heart that yes, technically, you’re the cause of this. Before this, before this horrible misunderstanding, your relationship with Steve was the paragon of trust so neither of you cared if the other read emails or texts. You remember the email - the email from your fucking college professor - because it had made you so angry that he’d referred to your relationship with Steve as something as simple and base as just pleasure - like you could even put words to the galaxy of a relationship you had with Steve - that you’d gone to the gym to work off some of that irritation. You hadn’t wanted to take it out on anyone accidentally. When you came back from the gym, Steve was gone on that two-week mission that he’d left on without saying goodbye.

Oh, God. You feel sick to your stomach as the paradigm of the way that Steve’s been treating you shifts violently to the left. You have to physically hold yourself up and try to speak past the lump in your throat. Steve looks… Brokenly smug. Like he knows he’s right, but he’d rather gnaw his own legs off than be right.

“No,” You croak, “No, Steve, you’ve got it all wrong.” You want to reach for him, but it feels like the room is closing in on you. You’re second-guessing everything now - especially what you’ve just said. How many people said the exact same thing to him pre-serum because they said something meant for Bucky to him? How many times did he hear that when he was getting a new diagnosis, hoping for the best? How many times had his own mother said it to him when he told her something someone had said, fresh-faced and not yet used to the way that abled people sometimes treated disabled people? You think you might be sick. “That email was from my professor, Steve. I’m not cheating on you, I’d never.” He laughs darkly and sits back down in his chair, head in his hands again. You try to gather the strength to move toward him when you see his shoulders shaking, a telltale sign that he’s crying.

“A professor,” He says with a watery laugh, “Right.”

Finally, you realize that he needs you, needs to know you love him, that you’d do anything for him. You can iron out the kinks later - figure out why he didn’t want to come to talk to you past the original hurt, why he treated you so coldly, why he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t do this to him - but now, you need to show him that you’re here. That you choose him. That you’ll always choose him.

You make your way to him and set a shaking hand on his shoulder. For a brief second you think he’s going to shake you off but then Steve’s hand shoots up and latches onto where your hand is resting, dipping his head to press against your arm. “Stevie, please,” You say, unsure of what you’re asking him to do, “I picked up a class, just one, and it’s… I picked it up for you, it’s about the ‘30s and ‘40s and…” He looks up at you and he looks so broken - face ruddy and wet with tears, lip wobbling, chest heaving as he tries to not sob. His brows are knit and he looks confused, “I just wanted to be able to understand you better. You had to leave so much of yourself at the door when you joined the Avengers, had to leave so much of yourself in the ice… In Erskine’s lab… Stevie, I just wanted you to be able to be you when you’re with me. I wanted to know the you that you were before you became Captain America.” Your voice is shaking, knees knocking together, and honestly? You feel like you might blackout.

“What?” He rasps, “What?”

“He sent that email because too many kids signed up for his class thinking that they’d be able to look at pictures of you and Buck for a semester. Emailed me directly because he knows we’re…” You choke on your words, shaking your head because you’re not even sure there’s a we anymore, “Because he knows I’m on the team. Didn’t want me walking in and making his class about just a few years in the ‘30s and ‘40s rather than the culture of the time.” You don’t know how else to explain it to him, but Steve isn’t saying anything - practically isn’t moving or breathing- so you continue to try and explain what’s really happening as best as you can, “And - and that email made me so angry because he singled me out, didn’t email anyone else about it, and I left to try and work some of that out; I didn’t want to take it out on you, or let it spoil - let it spoil… But when I came back from the gym, you were gone. You were gone for two weeks and I didn’t know why.” You’re crying harder now and pretty sure that within the next sixty seconds you’re going to collapse if you don’t sit down.

Steve shakes his head, still looking like he doesn’t understand. “What?” He says for a third time, “A class? A college class?”

“I just wanted to feel closer to you,” You confess, “Just wanted to understand a fraction of your life without making you do the heavy liftin’ and teachin’ me. Shouldn’t have’t do that,” You’re sobbing, barely biting out your words as you realize that something you’ve done to strengthen your relationship with Steve has destroyed it, “Shouldn’t have to explain a whole different time just to feel loved, Stevie. Should be able to be with someone who understands without you havin’ to explain.” You’re not sure you can say Peggy’s name out loud, and you hope he understands what you’re saying without making you actually say it, “Should’a been able to have love with someone who knew, and I know I’m nothin’ compared to what you should’a had, but I want to be. I want to be in the same ballpark instead’a watchin’ from the stands.” You wipe your face with your free hand and look away from Steve when he stands in front of you. You don’t want to see the look on his face - what he’s thinking about what you’ve said.

He says your name and you glance at him, but his expression stops him in your tracks. Where Steve looked broken and hurt and fuming with anger to hide the anguish, now he looks stricken. You shake your head, “No, no. I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty-”

“You think that I care about whether or not you can understand the ‘40s?” He cuts you off, hands moving to curl around your biceps, “You think that I care whether or not you can relate to a time in history when you weren’t even thought of?”

“Of course I love you. I love you more than anything in this world, but you shouldn’t have to not care, Steve,” You argue, shaking your head, “That’s what I’m trying to say. You should be with someone who understands without explanation. I just wanted to give that to you - didn’t know that this would happen.”

“I should be with someone who loves me,” He argues back, “If you love me, that’s all that matters. My past be damned.”

“But your past is you!” You try to pull away from Steve, but he anchors you there. You’re dizzy from being so close to him after this long, but also because of how many different twists this situation has taken. You can barely keep up with how bad your communication with Steve has become - barely keep up with how you need to fix it, or how to fix it. “Your past is you,” You repeat when you realize that Steve isn’t going to let you go. “And you shouldn’t have to give that up so that someone will love you.”

“But you love me,” He says desperately, ducking his head so that he’s nearly nose to nose with you, “You love me, right?”

“More than anything,” You say, closing your eyes and relishing in the feeling of being so close to Steve, “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I don’t care about what anyone else thinks, or anyone else. I’ll even stop goin’ to class if you want me to - Steve, I just can’t do this anymore. Can’t do this thing where you don’t talk to me about what’s botherin’ you.” You’re choking up, barely whispering, but you know he hears you. YOu can feel his warm breath on your face, “Nearly fuckin’ killed me.”

“I thought it was goin’ to be easier,” He breathes, nose bumping yours, “When you eventually decided to leave me for him. Thought I was savin’ myself some trouble.” You can practically taste his tears as they fall again, “Buck and Nat tried to tell me that you weren’t - that you wouldn’t - but I just couldn’t believe them.”

When you open your eyes, his are closed. This close to him you can see the soft freckles that are blooming over his eyelids, his soft eyelashes kissing his cheekbones. You can feel him breathing, feel him nearly pressed against you in a way that feels hauntingly nostalgic and terrifyingly fleeting; like you’ll be able to feel his warmth for years to come, but he’s about to disappear. “That’s okay,” You finally whisper, “It’s okay that you didn’t believe them. That you thought what you thought. It’s okay.” He shakes his head against yours, opening his mouth to protest, but you refuse to let him feel guilty about feeling this way - you have plenty of time to sit him down and talk to him candidly about the way he acted because of these feelings, anyway. “If I would have been in your place I’m not sure I would have believed them.”

“I treated you so badly…” He shifts and wraps his arms around you. It’s almost immediate - you relax into his arms and wind yours around his waist, keeping him pulled against you as he presses his face into your neck and you press your cheek against his chest. “So awfully.”

“We’ll talk about that, okay? But later. Right now you just need to know that I love you, Steve. I love you more than I can tell you - more than I can express.” You want to kiss him, but you can’t. Can’t kiss him, you need to wait for him to kiss you, for him to close that gap and show you that he still loves you like you love him. “We’ll have to have a talk, a long and hard conversation about this, Stevie, but for now… For now, I’m just content to be with you, okay? MIssed you so much.”

He sighs, nose pressing against yours again. “Missed you too, dovie. Missed you more than I can even say,” His voice breaks as his lips brush yours. Your relationship is not without its flaws and problems - Steve’s actions when he thought you were cheating on him are proof of that and, well, the fact that you didn’t realize what was happening, why it was happening, or a large part of your boyfriend’s psychological makeup having an impact on your relationship while it went unknown by you… There is a lot of work for the two of you to do, a lot of work to do, a lot of communication to be done… But you’d do it all for Steve, over and over again.

When he presses forward and presses his lips gently to yours, you know that he’ll do it all for you, over and over again, too.

[hiddles-and-skittles]

How about a Bucky x reader,(with a personal twist): She had not been able to go near a water-slide since she was 5, after a near drowning incident! Even in her adult years, she was fully capable to swim- but could not indulge in certain water park activities.(I am 40, and still not able to go near slides without a racing heart, high pulse, legs shaking-and if being forced screaming my lungs out) So when Tony arranged a day off at the local water theme park, reader was so anxious to come along...

Water-Slide Dare

Pairing: Bucky x female!reader

Word Count: 1,032

Summary: You’re terrified of water-slides and you’re afraid the team will make fun of you for it, so when you’re dared to go on the biggest one, how could you refuse?  

Warnings: anxiety mentions, self-doubt, fluff!

Notes: First off I’m super bad at titles😅

I received two asks so I sorta combined them, I hope that’s okay! The other was about proving yourself worthy to the team because you don’t think they like you, but Bucky assures you they do.  

With the sizzling summer heat, you were certain you could fry an egg on the sidewalk, which meant it was finally vacation time for everyone in the compound. You'd hoped to see that theme park in California where they had a mock Avengers Campus or even a trip out of country, but of course, a unanimous decision lead to a trip to the waterpark. Hooray. It's not that you were disappointed, you just...had a history with them.

It was every kid's dream to tackle the tallest water-slide at the park, but it was a dream turned nightmare when you almost drowned. You were five years old when you swore to yourself you'd never go near another water-slide again. The only one on the team who knew what happened was your boyfriend, Bucky, so when you stood at the waterpark's entrance a few steps behind everyone else, he was surprised you even came along. And you were surprised they invited you.

The team only teased you because you were still new, but it made you feel as though you didn’t quite fit in with them. They didn’t know how you felt because you hid it from them, so if they hurt you, you’d play along. You volunteered to do things you didn’t want to in hopes of gaining their full acceptance, and no matter what you always said yes. It was the default mode for you; you didn’t think you were enough until you proved it time and again, and you were adamant to do so even though it was unnecessary.    

"You ready?" He asked you, kissing your temple.

"It's okay,” he soothed, “we don’t have to.” He reached to wipe away your tears, smiling down at you softly. Your mind raced with the thoughts of the team making fun of you because you couldn’t face a fear you’d had for years.

With a nod and a shaky breath, you responded a quiet "Yeah." And with his hand in yours, you both met up with the rest of the team.

"Alright, kids, time to literally blow off some steam," joked Tony.

"I call dibs on the wave pool!" Peter yelled, already taking off.

"Man, I just want to kick back and relax. I'm hitting the lazy river," Sam told Steve.

Clint tapped Natasha on the arm and pointed to the tallest waterslide you'd ever seen. "See that big guy right there? He's mine."

"Oh sure," she scoffed. "But I bet they'll want to race you to it."

You didn't realize you and Bucky were the ones in question until the silence went on for too long, forcing you to look at the team in front of you.

"Wh-me? Us?" You gulped, the anxiety immediately kicking in.

"Yeah! Unless you're...chicken," Nat taunted playfully.

The team let out a collective "ooooh."

"Come on, Nat, don't tease her," Steve chided, shaking his head. Bucky noticed your widened eyes and wrapped an arm around you.

"Leave her alone," he warned. Nat cocked an eyebrow.

"It's just a joke, Barnes. Unless she’s scared...?"

You shoved his arm off your shoulder. "I can handle it just fine!" You crossed your arms over your chest, challenging them with your eyes narrowed.

"If you say so," she smiled. "It's not like you've got something to prove." Her words cut through you and you huffed indignantly as you stomped away from the group and towards your impending doom.

"You don't have to do this," Bucky assured you, following in your footsteps.

"Yes I do!"

You reached the top in time to see the last two people jump in, and you swallowed the lump in your throat as you realized you were next. The guard motioned for you to hop up towards the entrance and you hesitantly took a baby step forward, your legs already trembling as you gripped onto Bucky for dear life. The splashing of water below did nothing to drown out the sound of the blood rushing through your ears. Your eyes screwed shut and you froze, hyperventilating as you recalled the traumatic event that instilled fear in you from an early age. Your heart rate accelerated and you lost track of time until you heard your name gently being called by your boyfriend.

"Hey, it's alright." Comforting arms draped around your body and you heard a steadier heartbeat against your ear. "Come back to me." When you regained your senses you saw the concern etched in his pretty face, his steel eyes searching yours to make sure you were okay. Suddenly you felt tears trailing down your face.

"I don't want to do this," you rushed out.

“But what are they gonna think of me when we get back?”

Before he could respond, the life guard loudly popped his bubble gum and your heads jerked towards him. "Are you getting on or not? Cuz there's like, a line." You turned to look back at the kids who impatiently stood behind you and stepped out of the way.

“We’re not,” he answered. He took your hand and started to lead you back down the steps.  

You almost walked past the team’s spot when you realized you were the only two there. “Worried for nothing, see?” he told you. “They’re not even here.” You laughed and wiped your face, sighing in relief. “You wanna go find Sam and Steve at the lazy river?”  

You cleared your throat when you got to the bottom. "I'm sorry I dragged you up there." He chuckled, pulling you into his side.  

“It’s alright, I got my steps in.” You smiled for the first time that day, nuzzling closer to him as you walked back to the rendezvous point. “You know they only tease you because they like you, right?” You shrug. “And even if they didn’t, who cares? That’s not your problem. But I promise, they won’t judge you for this at all, they really do care about you and they’ll understand.” Your whole body relaxed at his words. Even if you couldn’t trust the voice in your anxious mind, you knew you could trust his. And for now that was enough.  

“Yeah,” you answered, smiling and linking your arm in his. “I’d like that.”  

[wrenhyperfixates]

All I Need is You

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: You do so much for everyone else and so little for yourself that when you almost collapse, Loki finally gets you to agree to let him take care of you. Warnings: the reader skips some meals; a lot of fluff A/N: Its really just Loki taking care of you. But please remember to take care of yourselves too everyone!! Hope you enjoy :)

Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02​ @frostedficrecs​ @lunarmoon8​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​ @lokistan​ @lowkeyorlokificrecs​ @gaitwae​ @whatafuckingdumbass​ @castiels-majestic-wings​ @kozkaboi​ @cozy-the-overlord​ @birdgirl90​ @myraiswack @mythicalgarlicknot @what-a-flammable-heart @marvelouslovely @laurenandloki @fallinallinmendes @sophlubbwriting @mooncat163 @lokislittlesigyn @wolfish-trickster

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Loki was watching you even more carefully than normal these days. Yes, you’d caught his eye even on your first day in the Tower back when you were just a new recruit, a SHIELD agent with some kind of sixth sense that let you anticipate things, recently transferred to the Avengers Tower. Even now no one was entirely sure if it was a power or just an uncanny knack you had that made you extremely good at your job. Regardless, the trickster god could see how the ability had shaped you.

You’d only been in the Tower a week when you’d started running errands all over the city, offering things to people before they could even think they needed it themselves, then going to pick it up for them. Loki had declined the offer after hearing all the places you were already going. He’d hoped it was a fluke, that you wouldn’t make it a habit of taking care of everyone. Not that it was inherently bad, he just knew how tiring it could be to please everyone, worried that you would burn out. Of course, you had kept doing it, and his worries turned out to be justified.

“Darling, are you going out again?” Loki asked as you passed his seat in the common room on your way to the elevator. He set his book down, frowning. “Did you not just go yesterday? Unless, of course, this time it is for you. Then by all means, please be on your way.”

“No... It’s just Steve and Bucky were talking about some cereals they used to like and we don’t have any in the Tower so...” you trailed off, shuffling your feet.

“And can they not wait for it until the next scheduled trip to the supermarket?”

“Well, yeah, they said they could. But I don’t mind.”

Loki stood and sighed, walking over to you. Gently, so you didn’t have to comply if you didn’t want to, Loki lifted your chin to look at him. You looked tired. Admirable as it was that you wanted to do things for others, you needed a rest day.

“And tell me, darling, when was the last time you did something for yourself?” He waited a moment for an answer, but was met with silence. “What about that drawing you started two months ago? Have you worked on that more?”

“It wasn’t any good, anyway,” you shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”

“It was wonderful,” he reassured you. “What about eating, though? Have you eaten today?”

“I... I had a mint.”

“That does not count.” Now he was outright worried. You did this every once in a while, saying you just got so caught up in other things, you forgot to eat. Whatever the reason, it troubled Loki. “You have had some water at least? You know what, do not answer. I am sure I know already. Just wait here a moment.”

You waited by the lift as Loki padded to the kitchen, searching for a water bottle. The problem went beyond just these shopping trips. Sometimes when Tony or Bruce got stuck on one of their projects, you’d pore over books and blueprints for hours, searching for the answer, losing sleep. Then other times, you took it upon yourself to plan events for the team. It was more than a simple, casual invitation. No, it usually involved at least three days of extensive planning. Everyone enjoyed them and was appreciative, needing a break from their day-to-day lives, but it just took up more of your time and brainpower. Pile that onto your own training and missions, it was enough to wear anyone out.

But what he both loved and hated the most was how you’d always be there to talk. Not just for him, but for everyone. And not merely a laid-back chat, either. No, they were practically therapy sessions. Again, just like all the other things you did, that would be all fine and good, except for the fact you never talked about your own issues. You just did so much for everyone else and practically nothing for yourself, even something so basic as remembering to eat, that it broke Loki’s heart a little more every day.

“Here,” he said, handing you the plastic bottle. “But I am coming with you.”

Smiling brightly, you led the way out into the city streets. You chatted as you went about your task, and Loki was yet to take his eyes off of you. It wasn’t until you started the journey back, however, that he began to grow worried. You hadn’t taken even the smallest sip of the water he’d fetched for you, and on this hot day, it was clearly taking its toll. You stumbled a little, suddenly looking more out of it than Loki could stand. He gently gripped your arm to steady you and led you to a bench. Grabbing the water out of your backpack, Loki uncapped it and held the bottle to your lips.

“Drink,” he ordered, but with kindness in his tone.

One of your hands that was gripping the bench a bit too tightly in an attempt to ground your dizzy mind came up to take the bottle from him. Complying, you downed nearly half the bottle in one gulp. It seemed that was a mistake as your empty stomach gargled, rebelling against the sudden intake. Loki rubbed large circles on your back while you scrunched your eyes closed, breathing deeply as you tried to force yourself to feel better.

“Are you alright, darling?” Loki asked when you felt well enough to take another few small sips. You nodded your head, eyes still closed. “Now do you see why it is important to take care of yourself? Will you please get some rest this afternoon?”

“I’m fine, really. Don’t worry, I-”

“That is madness!” Both Loki and you flinched at his sudden increase in volume. He removed his hand from your back, feeling unworthy to make contact with you after snapping like that. You were his friend, and he was yelling at you for something like this? It made him disappointed in himself. He sighed. “Listen, I am sorry. All I mean is I care about you. I do not like to see you like this. It is not healthy, and I believe you know that.”

You opened your eyes, blinking at him. “You-you care about me?”

Loki felt heat flood to his cheeks as he realized that he had, in fact, said that. “I do. So will you please let me take care of you?”

You bit your lip for a minute. “I will,” you sighed, giving in.

Satisfied, Loki coaxed you into accepting a piggyback ride the rest of the way home. You placed your forehead in the crook of his neck, enjoying his cool skin against yours, which was noticeably overheating. He quickly tossed the grocery bags of cereal onto the counter and brought you to your room, your own little pocket of the world that you trusted Loki enough to share with him if even for a moment. Laying you down on your bed, he told you to rest for a minute, lips placing a ghost of a kiss on your forehead.

The god moved to your bathroom, looking for what he needed. After preparing a bubble bath with nice, cool water, Loki left you to sink into it with only the order to relax. While you did, he hurried to prepare you a light meal, something that wouldn’t upset your stomach. When you padded out of the bathroom in the soft pajamas Loki had left for you and saw the meal on a tray on your bedside table, a smile tugged at your lips.

Loki peeled back the silken sheets he’d put on your bed so you could get under them. With a little bit of difficulty—Loki never had gotten a firm grasp on understanding Midgardian technology—he flipped through the channels on your TV until you found something you wanted to watch while you ate.

“Is there anything else you need?” he asked once you were done eating, before leaving you to your own devices.

You bit your lip as you thought before ultimately shaking your head no. “I’m good thanks.”

“Please, darling, be honest with me,” he pleaded. “Anything you want. Name it, and it is yours.”

“Will you stay with me?” you blurted out. “No, I’m sorry, that’s ridiculous. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

“Darling,” he tsked. “The only thing on my schedule today is taking care of you.”

You smiled as he slid under the sheets next to you, wrapping his arms around your body and pulling you onto his lap. You twisted your body so you could look at him and tuck a few locks of his raven hair behind his ear. You were living in your own place in time, the two of you finding a safe haven in each other’s arms.

“You know what would make me really happy, Loki?” you began. “If I got to give you a little, thank you. Would that be alright?”

The god hesitated for a moment. “I suppose. Depending on what it is.”

“Can I... Would it be alright if I kissed you?”

“Well, that depends, again.”

“On?”

“On whether or not we can make it a regular occurrence,” Loki replied with a playful grin.

“You know, you are always saying I should do things that make me happy. So yes, yes we absolutely can.”

“In that case,” he said, already leaning in, “what are you waiting for?”

Giggling, you bridged the gap between you. As Loki smiled against your lips, he realized something. No matter how stubborn either of you were when it came to accepting help for yourselves, you’d always have the other to take care of you. And even more importantly, Loki thought, you’d have each other to love.

[the-bau-quinjet]

Shut Up!

Summary: request! Bucky and Y/N hate each other... or so they say.

Warnings: as Steve would say: Language!, but really it's just a bunch of fluff.

Word Count: 1798

a/n: Italics are thoughts in their heads!!

This request brought me so much joy to think about. Happy Birthday anon! Thank you so much for all the love!!! ❤️ 💕 💗 💖 💘

"BARNES!" You screamed, giving him the customary warning before throwing your least favorite knife at him.

He flung himself backward, catching the knife in midair.

Damn, that's hot. You shook the thought away, glaring at Bucky as he turned to look at you.

"Did you just throw a knife at me?" He asked, incredulous.

You rolled your eyes. "You deserved it. Plus, I warned you." You bit back.

"Y/N, you can't just throw knives at people." Steve sighed, tired of the two of you arguing all the time.

"I don't throw knives at people. Just Bucky." You said his name with disgusted expression. "And he deserved it!"

"What the hell did he do to deserve being impaled by a knife?" Sam chuckled, but only to keep the mood light.

"He wasn't impaled. I knew he would dodge it." You defended yourself, sneering at Bucky's smug grin.

"Not the point. What did he do?" Steve asked again, trying to clear the air despite it never working before.

You pulled the beanie you were wearing off your head, showing off your freshly bleached hair. It was nearly white, a stark platinum blonde contrasting your typical dark style.

"You know what they say, 'blondes have more fun'. I was just looking out for your social life." Bucky smirked, enjoying the rage.

She's so cute when she's angry. He thought as he stared at you.

Sam snorted, trying to hold in the laugh under your glare.

"How thoughtful." You quipped sarcastically, leaning in to threaten him. "I'm going to get you back for this." Your words were laced with venom, the anger palpable even in the vast gym.

"Looking forward to it! Thanks for the knife!" Bucky called as you stormed away, ignoring the thoughts lingering in his head. Not cute. Hot. So very hot when she's angry.

-

The next few days, Bucky heard nothing from you. He didn't think much of it, considering you were likely plotting. It wasn't until you started being uncharacteristically sweet to him that he grew nervous.

"Hey, Buck, Steve." You smiled as you walked up to him and Steve.

"Hi, Y/N." Steve greeted you warmly, glad to see you at least acting cordial after the stunt Bucky pulled.

"Hi..." Bucky hesitated, unsure of what you were playing at.

He's so adorable when he's nervous. You shook your head, getting back on track.

"I brought you some drinks!" You excitedly exclaimed, handing the drink carrier to Steve since Bucky seemed frozen in place. "Protein smoothie for Steve, chocolate milkshake for Bucky."

You walked away without another word, throwing a thumbs up to accept Steve's thanks.

Steve happily drank his smoothie, enjoying the energy boost. Bucky just stared at the milkshake before throwing the entire thing away.

"Buck! Don't be a jerk. She bought that for you." Steve huffed, annoyed with his friend's childish behavior.

"I can't trust anything she gives me unless I saw it being made." He shrugged as if it was obvious.

"Jerk, she's not going to poison you." Steve rolled his eyes.

"You don't know that." Bucky shook his head, walking into the kitchen. The idea of a milkshake made him hungry.

The next day, you were back with more treats. This time a cinnamon roll for Steve, something he said was his guilty pleasure, and a chocolate eclair for Bucky. You were grinning ear to ear as Steve thanked you profusely.

She's so adorable when she's this happy.

Once again, Bucky threw it away, ignoring the glare Steve shot his way.

The next days followed the same pattern. You would seek out Bucky and Steve, giving each of them some snack, dessert, or drink. Bucky threw it away every single time, not trusting your motives.

You didn't break pattern for a solid week, watching as Steve grew increasingly annoyed with Bucky throwing away all of your treats.

"I made cookies!" You walked into the living room where everyone was enjoying movie night. You handed out cookies to every member of the team, saving Bucky for last.

As you walked back into the kitchen to return the platter, you heard Steve whisper yell at Bucky.

"Just eat the cookie." Steve glared, thinking you would be upset if you saw him through it away.

"I can't! What if she did something to it?" Bucky whispered right back.

"Buck! She gave one to everyone! You really think she would purposefully keep track of one specific cookie just to get you back?" Steve rolled his eyes, completely fed up with the situation.

"Yes! I really do!" Bucky defended.

"Eat the damn cookie." Steve spoke between his teeth, elbowing him in the side.

"Fine." Bucky hesitated in bringing the cookie up to his mouth, but ultimately gave in.

As soon as he swallowed the cookie, he knew something was off. His whole body felt tingly, but there was a pleasant warmth to it.

A sudden bright flash of light had you walking back into the room, watching as Bucky turned into a cat.

"What the hell..." Sam turned, glancing between the small white kitten and Steve's shocked expression.

He's cuter as a person. You couldn't stop the thought from popping into your head, causing you to chuckle.

Steve suddenly whipped his head to you.

"Y/N. What did you do?" He sighed, exasperated but a little impressed.

A small meow followed the question, earning various "awws" from the entire room.

"I turned him into a cat." You shrugged nonchalantly, pretending this was a normal occurrence.

"Did everything you brought him this week have the power to do... that?" He gestured to Bucky, who hissed at Steve as if to say I told you so.

"Nope." You shook your head, laughing as Bucky wobbled across the couch, not used to how it felt to move as a feline. "I knew he would think I did something to them, so I didn't. Just plain old snacks."

Damn, she is so fucking smart. Bucky's thoughts came out as a purr, startling the room.

"How long is tinman stuck as a cat?" Tony laughed, enjoying the sight.

"Just a few hours. Long enough to think about why he deserves this." You gestured to your hair.

"Can we take pictures of him in cute cat outfits?" Nat questioned, always up for blackmail material.

You pulled a shopping bag out from behind you, pulling a series of Avenger themes costumes.

"I'm one step ahead of you." You grinned devilishly, swiftly scooping Bucky up from off the couch.

-

"You're evil." Bucky glared at you as soon as he turned back into a human.

"You deserved it. Plus, you were so cute as a little kitten." You pouted.

That pout is doing things to me. Bucky shook his head, trying to maintain the angry facade. He ran his hands through his hair, causing your own thoughts to spiral.

What I would give to run my hands through his hair when he wasn't a cat.

"You turned me into a cat!" He yelled, chasing you down the hall back to the living room.

"You died my hair platinum fucking blonde!" You screamed right back, turning on him once you made it to the end of the hallway.

"I can't stand you." Bucky spat, while simultaneously thinking if only she wanted to touch me not as a cat.

"Yeah, well newsflash! I can't stand you either." You glared right back.

The team watched on with amused expressions.

"Who wants to see pictures of kitty Barnes in cat costumes?" You turned to the room, a wide grin adorning your lips. Without waiting for an answer, you displayed your phone on the TV screen.

He is so damn cute. Cat or no cat. You laughed as you swiped through the pictures.

Bucky tried to grab the phone from you, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of enjoying this too much.

Her laugh is like music.

"Oh my god! Shut up!" Wanda suddenly stood up, pointing at the both of you. "You two pretend to hate each other so much, but your thoughts tell different stories."

Your mouth dropped open, shocked at both Wanda's volume and words.

Bucky wore a similar expression, eyes wide and heart beating fast.

"Wanda, you read my mind?" You tried to deflect the attention.

"No. You were just thinking so damn loud it involuntarily popped into my head." She grinned, trying to impersonate your voice as she quoted your thoughts

"Damn, that's hot. He's so adorable when he's nervous. He's cuter as a person. What I wouldn't give to run my hands through his hair when he wasn't a cat. He is so damn cute. Cat or no cat."

"And those are just from the past week and a half!" She yelled at you.

Bucky grinned smugly, forgetting Wanda also heard his thoughts. "Oh, doll. Why didn't you just say you cared?" He asked in fake sympathy.

You glared at him, ready to fight again when Wanda switched focus.

"Don't start with me Barnes. You think just as loudly!" Her voice took on an exaggerated depth as she impersonated Bucky, sighing dramatically between sentences.

"She's so cute when she's angry. Not cute. Hot. So very hot when she's angry. She's so adorable when she's this happy. Damn, she is so fucking smart. That pout is doing things to me. If only she wanted to touch me not as a cat. Her laugh is like music."

"I can't take it anymore! The two of you are driving me insane." She huffed, barging out of the room in an effort to hear nothing but peace and quiet.

Everyone else quickly followed, figuring the two of you could use a minute to talk.

"You think I'm hot." Bucky stated the fact. "That's embarrassing." He grinned, slowly walking closer to you.

"Not as embarrassing you thinking I'm smart." You countered, a matching grin on your face.

"You want to run your hands through my hair." He smirked, placing his hands on your waist.

"My laugh is like music to your ears." You leaned closer.

"Just kiss already!" Sam shouted from the hallway, but the two of you were in your own world.

"Do you want to get dinner with me? Tomorrow?" Bucky asked, his forehead pressed to yours.

"I'd like that." You smiled back.

The two of you moved in tandem, pressing your lips together, fighting for dominance of the kiss.

You pulled back, breathless and needing air. "I hope you know I'm not deleting the pictures of you as a cat."

"I wouldn't think so." Bucky chuckled, pressing another quick kiss to your lips.

"You know what this means?" He asked, an eyebrow raised.

You grinned conspiratorially while nodding. "We can team up on Wilson!"

"My thoughts exactly." He smiled, pulling you into another breathtaking kiss.

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman

[anthonyed]

the best part about being in relationship is getting to hold his lover whenever he wants, wherever he wants, the rest of the world be damned.

steve's lived 100 years and counting so he glares at the 90years old girl scowling at his arms around his fella. "what?" he mouths, pulling in tony closer by the shoulder, pressing a tight lipped kiss to his forehead.

tony, fortunately remains oblivious, indulging steve in his need for contact while he continues going a mile a minute about organic vs non organic food products.

there are the times that are more private as well. hidden within four walls and a closed door where steve could curl with his heart laid bared open and snuggle into tony's neck. or lap. whichever's convenient for the hour.

the truth of the matter is that steve is depraved of physical contact. but he's not one good at taking unless from his own; and in his limited dictionary, tony is his own. so, take he does.

including tony's heart which he sometimes rips into shreds and then frantically try to patch it back, because steve is not perfect. no matter how differently tony tries to convince him on that.

he bleeds too when he breaks tony in half. then they glue themselves back together and get up because they're both fighters, never known when to give up.

giving, steve does. unnecessarily abundantly. sometimes tony frowns at him because "that's not right". but tony's one to speak because he's worse of a giver than steve could ever be; ask him to write his life away, and he'll do so willingly.

"not now. not anymore," tony tells him when steve says that. "not when i have you, i would never."

the wave of a new villain just crashed new york city this afternoon and their bones are still quaking from that ripple.

"you better never." steve holds him, tight and secure. his nose presses hurtfully into the crest of tony's hip bone but he could care less about that. "cannot go on without you, i swear," his breath hitches as his voice cracks and he feels the fire burning fierce in his heart, burning for tony and himself; willing a forever for them. he'd fight the gods if he has to -

"hey," tony shushes, slipping lower in his grip so they're nose to nose, eyes to eyes; blue meets brown and steve's mouth feels damp when tony breathes out. hot air condensing against his trembling lips.

"i'm here," tony swears, presses his mouth to steve's forehead and eyelids and cheeks and he's haphazard in his consoling; just what steve needs when he's shaking this much apart.

because what else can you do when an entire building falls on your lover and you lose his voice in your ears for a whole hour.

"we're fine. i'm fine. not gonna leave you," he presses two of steve's fingers to his pulsepoint; throbbing desperately in his neck and steve lets a punched out breath; his everything collapsing and inflating at the same instance.

it's terrifying, what they do to each other; horrying, what they could do to each other. but in the end, it's them and steve would never have it any way other.

he holds tony tighter, buries his head and his worries in his chest and he recalls when it used to be embarrassing, when confessions of his fear were in the forms of shouting and yelling and raging anger.

he's grateful now they're better; he could whisper his worst to tony and hide inside him and tony will never judge him because he loves steves and steve knows that. is so fucking grateful he could have this man.

and he loves him back as much, maybe more, maybe too much. it doesn't matter. he'd do anything to put a smile on tony's pretty face and wipe his frown away. and he knows tony loves when steve holds him tight, holds him desperate, like he couldn't stand the thought of draft getting between them. so he holds him tight like he does. because he loves it as much too.

what they have is precious; sometimes comparably normal while other times, bafflingly unusual. but it works for them either way: this love between them. this sickness that's too sweet and syrupy and corrupting. this desperate need to have each other till forever ends and then some more because what else is love if not this for them

[awesomerextyphoon]

Speculum Cupido

Summary: You’ve been Dr. Strange’s apprentice for some time now and you wanted to prove your best friend wrong. It goes awry and both of you find yourselves in a ‘dark mirror’ universe where the Captain, the Asset, the Kraken, and the Fallen Angel want to make both of you theirs.

Pairing: Dark!Steve x Female Reader x Dark!Ransom, minor Dark!Bucky x OFC x Dark!Sam

Rating: 18+ / Explicit

Word Count: 3,072

Warning: Dub/Non-Con Smut, Oral (m & f receiving), Daddy Kink, MMF Threesome, Double Penetration, Spit Roasting, Non-Con Drugging, Breeding Kink, and Artistic License w/Biology

A/N: This is my gift to @labella420​ for @drabblewithfrannybarnes​, @chrissquares​ , and @amythedvdhoarder​’s Happy Hoelentine’s Day Challenge.  Dividers are by the lovely @firefly-graphics​. Shout out to @saiyanprincessswanie​ for letting me borrow an idea of hers for this fic. Thanks to @the-soulofdevil​ for the beta.

Back to Masterlist

Another Valentine’s Day, another day for the world to mock me being single.

You were having enough of a ‘meh’ week as it is. Dr. Strange had to return to Kamar-Taj for an in-person meeting and Wong was who knows where. They had instructed you to work on your portal and transfiguration spells while they were away which was fair since you’ve been lacking in that department.

It’s just that you longed for some excitement.

Luckily you wouldn’t be spending Valentine’s completely alone; Isabeau, your best friend, was coming over due to as she put it, ‘no one cares about a day where all one gets is somewhat good sex’.

Fast Forward two hours and you’re getting your room ready for Galentine’s Day Movie Night. You had decked out your room with homemade baked goods, drinks, best friend movies, all the good shit.

“I have wonderful news!” Isabeau burst in with gusto yet again.

You shot her a bemused smile, “What is it this time?”

“I have a new crush! It’s Eric from IT!”

“Are you sure this won’t end up like last time?” you queried in reference to the time when Isabeau’s crush turned out to be a complete asshole.

“Oh hush! This won’t be like that at all,” Isabeau retorted, “Now how about you? Have you had any luck with a hot sorcerer?”

“If only I’d be so lucky,” you muttered as Isabeau started on the Toffee Crunch Cookies you made.

A few minutes later, Isabeau’s eyes narrowed and her full lips curved upward in a mischievous smirk.

She had one of her ideas again.

“Hey, why don’t you try an ambiance spell. They’re harmless and you always feel better afterward.”

You didn’t like casting them due to something always going awry, but you relented once Isabeau broke out her puppy dog eyes.

“Alright, alright, I give,” you submitted, “I’ll try a simple floating star spell. Let me find the book.”

 Both of you went to the library for the book but it was nowhere to be found. All of the ambiance and illusion books were blank.

“Is this a sorcerer thing? I’m not seeing any words or illustrations,” puzzled Isabeau as you went through book after book in the library only to find them blank.

“No. Maybe we should just go back to my room,” you suggested as you made your way to the exit.

“Wait! There’s one book left. You could try that one.” Isabeau pointed to the last book on the shelf. It was a little worn like many of the books that resided in the library, but the inscriptions seemed odd; like it wasn’t supposed to be there.

Yet it was the only book that had anything in it.

“Fine,” you relented as you took the book back to your room.

  The spells in the book weren’t anything out of the ordinary, but one spell seemed to stand out to both of you.

“Speculum Mundus?” Isabeau wondered.

“It means Mirror World in Latin.”

“Oh,” her eyes got a mischievous glint to them again, “I bet you can’t cast the spell.”

“Not this again.”

“Oh come on,” Isabeau goaded, “It’s a simple mirror world spell. You’ve done it before. What’s the worse that can happen?”

“I don’t know…”

“Are you gonna chicken out again?”

“No! Just give me a minute,” you mumbled as your hands got into the starting position and recited the incantation.

  The room changed instantly.

It was filled with prism-like structures and kaleidoscope imagery giving the space a surreal ambiance.

It wasn’t unlike the last time you went into the Quantum Realm with Dr. Strange and Wong, and yet the hair on the back of your neck stood straight, and a chill shot through your spine.

You heard a gasp and turned around to see Isabeau with her protruding eyes opened wide and her mouth gaping. Following her line of sight, you saw four of the hottest men you’ve ever seen.

Though something was amiss.

For one thing, there were two Steve Rogers; one with a beard and one clean-shaven. Bucky Barnes’ arm was silver and not dark gray with gold highlights. All of them were in black uniforms with sections of vermillion and/or maroon. Clean-shaven Steve had a black tactical suit with a vermillion Kraken on his chest. Bearded Steve had a skull with tentacles on it. Sam had three vermillion stripes and one maroon stripe across his chest and shoulders with a falcon’s head in red surrounded by a black circle between his pecs.

But the thing that set off all your alarms was the fact that Bucky’s outfit was a dead ringer of his Winter Soldier days.

Instinctively, you grabbed Isabeau’s hand and made a mad dash for the hallway. You needed to get some distance so you could ground yourself.

You tried breaking the spell but to no avail. Not only did the spell not break, but your hands also burned at each attempt.

“We won’t lose you again!” one of the Steves yelled as you and Isabeau turned a corner.

“Come here, mici prințese!” another voice, probably Bucky’s shouted as the two of you made your way into a closet.

“I think we’re okay for now,” you breathed telepathically as the four Adonises crept past your hiding place.

“What’s the plan now?” Isabeau asked fearfully as her heartbeat started to rise in terror.

“I don’t know but-” you were cut off by a strike to the back of your head and your vision rapidly fading to black.

  Muffled voices and the beeping of medical equipment brought you from the void.

“Nothing is wrong….they’re…good, sir.”

“Be sure that they are. We can’t leave anything up to chance.”

Groggily, you open your eyes to find yourself in a sleek hospital room lightly chained to a bed. Several other people were monitoring your vitals. One of them is Dr. Bruce Banner, or what seems to be Dr. Banner.

Bruce turned to see you looking around with a slightly confused expression, “Ah, you’re awake,” he turned to one of his aides, “Contact the Captain and Lieutenant. Tell them to come to get their bride.”

You blinked. Bride?

“Where is Isabeau, my friend?” you inquired as one of the aides brought you some water.

Bruce scowled, “Don’t think about her. You might be able to see her if the Captain and/or Lieutenant wills it.” he remarked while eyeing you up and down in a condescending almost lecherous manner, “Hmm, looks great for breeding,” Bruce noted as he fondled and prodded your curves.

You’ve always been proud of how you looked, but at that moment you wanted to shrink in the corner after giving this Bruce a roundhouse kick to the groin.

You were about to tell Dark!Bruce to fuck off when Tony Stark, fuck it, Dark!Tony entered the room. This Tony looked a lot more sinister with his silver, gray, light, and steel navy blue armor. His face and hair were mostly uncovered with his facial expression positively predatory.

“Cap’s one lucky bastard. He gets a sexy bunny along with Lieutenant Smart Ass.”

Recalling how some megalomaniacs liked shows of submissiveness, you lowered your head and asked where you were.

Whether it be out of pity, spite, or malice, Tony answered your question, “You’re in another earth, another universe.”

You nearly swiveled to look outside the window. NYC’s skyline was radically different. There were fewer buildings and HYDRA insignias everywhere.

“HYDRA took over this world.” You deadpanned. FUUUUCK!

“Sexy and smart.” Tony praised sardonically.

It didn’t take time for HYDRA to regroup after WWII. Zola and his associates were able to convince Howard Stark to give them the Tesseract with the promise of great renown, riches, and no longer being bound by the laws of weaker men. They were able to create a superweapon with the help of Dr. Whitney Frost and have been ruling the planet ever since.

It could be worse. HYDRA knew they had to offer the people comforts in exchange for their obedience. They eradicated all diseases, created a good standard of living, and ended all petty conflicts under the new world order.

Though Tony didn’t feel the need to tell you. You’ll figure it out on your own.

The doors opened to reveal Steve Rogers and his younger, clean-shaven counterpart in all their masculine glory.

“Good, you’re here.” Bruce welcomed smirking at your silent pleas.

Both soldiers walked over and inspected you.

“Hello, kitten. Name’s Ransom.” The clean-shaven soldier drawled as he moaned from your scent, “Nice set of lips you’ve got there.”

“We’ll definitely have some fun with her,” Steve noted as licked his lips ogling your curves.

You had to use all of your restraint not to spit in their faces.

“We’ll take her.” Ransom decided while Steve nodded.

Several of the aides breathed a sigh of relief as Steve broke the chains on your bed like they were nothing.

“Don’t have too much fun now!” Tony called as Steve picked you up bridal style.

“Who am I kidding? they’ll breed her like a Catholic rabbit!”

  “Um, where are you taking me?” you queried, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You will address us as ‘Sir’ in public unless instructed otherwise. Is that understood?” It took all that Steve had not to push against the wall and pound your pussy with his cock he was so enraged.

No, he needed to wait. No one was to see what’s theirs.

Ransom, for his part, chuckled and shook his head, “Best not to anger this one, kitten. He hasn’t been in the best of moods.”

  You gasped once the doors to their living quarters opened.

The place was huge!

It had a modern yet retro design; it should’ve been confusing, but it worked. Grand windows showcased the skyline with a balcony in the middle with a huge kitchen next to what looked to be a restaurant-style fridge and a huge living room with a TV and a fireplace.

Yet there seemed to be something missing.

“Place needs a woman’s touch,” Ransom commented sending a smirk your way.

“I’ll see you in the guest quarters Ransom” Steve deadpanned as he led you down a hall.

  The bedroom was enormous yet sparse like they didn’t know what to do with it.

You were about to say something when Steve dropped you onto the incredibly soft mattress. His eyes darkened with lust and you knew what he wanted. You couldn’t think of a way out of this, not with the magic inhibitors Bruce placed on your wrists.

Maybe you could give escape one last try; you just had to wait for the right opening.

Steve smirked upon seeing you removing your clothes. He liked that you knew your place, his pretty little princess.

You could only gasp when Steve removed his uniform top. He had an incredibly defined musculature: broad shoulders, beefy biceps, chiseled pecs and abs, and a seriously drool-worthy Adonis Belt. The light shining behind him made his body appear even more glorious.

Steve looked like an ancient god brought to modern times.

With a predatory smirk, Steve slowly crawled to you loving the smell of your arousal. “Let me lay out a few rules, sweetheart. You will make our meals, clean our rooms, bear our children, and be our good little whore. You must earn the right to wear a bra; panties are out of the question.”

Each rule was emphasized by a kiss or a love bite to your jaw, neck, collarbone, and shoulders.

Finally, you are to address us as Sir in public and Daddy in private. Say it.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you muttered with your eyes downcast.

Steve lifted your chin up with his forefinger, “That’s a good girl,” and brought you in for a kiss on the lips.

The kiss was demanding yet soft. You were surprised he was capable of such gentleness.

Steve was about to push his tongue into his mouth when Ransom strolled into the room.

“Does she know the drill?”

Steve broke the kiss with a smirk,” Just finished explaining it.”

Ransom shot you a sardonic smirk, “You got the rules, kitten? Good. Now if you misbehave, I’m gonna send you to the dungeons for a few days.”

Steve started up again, “But...if you’re good-”

“A good little wifey,” Ransom interjected caressing your right cheek and leaning in for a kiss.

This kiss started off soft then intensified (really know how to lure a girl) into one filled with passion and dominance. Ransom forced his tongue into and moaned at your taste. A few seconds later he was pushing what felt like a small tablet past your tongue forcing you to swallow.

“Did you do it yet?”

“Cool it, grandpa! I did, don’t you worry. She’s gonna feel it. Aren’t ya, kitten.”

You started to feel strange. Your body temperature skyrocketed, your mind was in a deep haze, your thighs were clenching on overtime you were so turned on. You needed relief and fast.

“Please Daddies!” you begged as you tried your best not to touch yourself.

“See grandpa? She’s ready.” Ransom purred as he grabbed your thighs and placed them over his shoulders. He planted a few kisses near your entrance and groaned at the smell of your arousal.

It only took one long, slow lick to your slit to turn you into a moaning mess. You couldn’t believe the pleasure you were feeling. It was like a bolt of lightning shot through you.

Ransom groaned at the taste of your juices. Not even Stark’s overpriced chefs could compare. “Fuck, she tastes divine,” he groaned and dove in for more. Ransom attacked your folds and swollen clit with insane intensity and precision alternating between his tongue and fingers.

You were on cloud nine. Each motion took you further to the precipice of an orgasm. Ransom kept bringing you back from the edge only thrust you back into his level of tumultuous.

Steve got in on the action by covering your moans with a kiss of all-consuming passion and started playing with your breasts.

“Fuck, these tits are amazing! Can’t wait until these are filled with milk” Steve purred as he took one of your nipples into his mouth and the other between his big and forefingers.

After twenty minutes of teasing, Ransom finally let you come. A volcanic eruption of ecstasy erupted from your core and Ransom lapped up all of your juices.

“Rogers, you’re in for a treat!” Ransom exclaimed as he hopped off the edge of the mattress.

“I get her pussy first since you got to eat her out,” Steve uttered as grinned at your blissed-out state.

With a tsk, both of them got you into position with Steve’s thick, muscular thighs on either side of your hips and Ransom standing in front of you taking off his pants.

He was huge! His cock was long, thick, and veiny. It wobbled against his masterfully sculpted abs with each step he took. You wondered how that was going to fit in your mouth. Turns out Steve’s was no smaller if his tip being coated with your slick is any indication.

“This won’t hurt, kitten. You were made for us.” Ransom cooed.

You didn’t know how right he was.

Steve made his move by pushing into you inch by delicious inch and moaned at the sensation. “Fuck, she fits like a dream.”

“Don’t take forever, grandpa.” Ransom chided.

“Shut up, ya punk!” Steve retorted as he began thrusting into you loving the way your pussy clenched around him like a vice’s grip.

“Open wide, kitten,” Ransom started to push his throbbing cock into your mouth.

It took a bit of time and effort to loosen your jaw enough for him to fully enter you. He started fucking your mouth before you were ready. You tried not to gag he was so rough.

What happened to the man from earlier?

“Fuckin’ perfect.” Ransom breathed as he was approaching his climax.

Steve came with a primal roar that reverberated throughout the room after making you come two more times.

“Swallow it, kitten” Ransom ordered.

Funny thing is, you didn’t need the order. You delighted in the salty, tangy, and slightly sweet flavor.

Two minutes after you swallowed all of Ransom’s spent, both men decided it was time to move. Ransom got onto the mattress and pulled you on top of him with his tip nudging your entrance. Steve got behind you and placed kisses along the juncture between your neck and shoulders while positioning himself at your ass.

“Please...please don’t do this!” you pleaded, the pill’s effect slipping for the tiniest of moments.

Steve grabbed your neck with just enough force to pause, not hurt.” Best be a good girl now, sweetheart,” he warned.

Ransom slid in first, “Holy fucking shit!” he moaned, “Sam owes me $40.

“That depends on how well their bride is taking to them,” Steve pointed out.

“Eh, we’ll say ours is better.”

Ransom moaned again once he bottomed out and grabbed the globes of your blessed backside. He couldn’t wait to grab and smack it around in their quarters.

Steve moved slowly causing both of your breathing to hitch, his from pleasure and yours from slight pain.

With a grin and smirk, they started moving in tandem. Your body almost couldn’t take the immense pleasure you were feeling.

“I could get used to this,” Ransom remarked.

“Well, we have the week,” Steve breathed past your ear.

Both kept at it until they came in you twice. You nearly passed out after your twelfth orgasm.

“Rest kitten,” Ransom purred as you finally gave in to your exhaustion.

  “The bride took to our seed,” Steve reported to Director Pierce.

“Good. We found their parents along with the rest of the resistance.” Pierce imparted.

Steve scowled at the information.

You and your friend, Isabeau, were the only ones to survive the Eve Project. HYDRA wanted to genetically groom compatible brides for their top soldiers. You were promised to Steve and Ransom and your friend to Bucky and Sam. Both of you were whisked away to another Earth by the resistance and your treacherous parents.

Now you were back where you belong.

“When do we leave?” Ransom growled.

“Once Strange and Wanda crack the protection spell. In the meantime, enjoy your bride.” Pierce turned to leave, but stopped before turning off the screen,” I want to see some little ones soon.”

[avengerscompound]

Small Gods: Patience - 1

Patience:  A Black Widow Fanfic

Patience Masterlist | More Small Gods

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count:  1611

Warnings: Language, guns, (smut, angst, and canon typical violence on series)

Synopsis: Every day Natasha prays for more patience to deal with a litany of things from waiting for her target to make a move - to not yelling at Clint for putting empty milk containers back in the fridge.

When her prayers are answered, Natasha finds that having patience is easy, holding on to it is a little harder.

A/N: Reader is a minor god.

IF YOU WISH TO BE TAGGED IN THE REMAINDER OF THIS SERIES, EITHER ADD YOURSELF TO THE TAGLIST OR SEND ME A MESSAGE

Chapter 1

Natasha stood on the edge of the building watching the chaos break out below her.  The team was supposed to be infiltrating a new underground crime group to figure out where a drop-off was happening.  They’d had men on a street corner no one had managed to clock, and it had just happened to be the one Steve was observing, and they’d spotted him.  That had made the whole crew antsy and then they’d wanted to change locations for the meet.  That had meant a sudden scramble to relocate everyone, so they could keep monitoring the situation.  Tony had nearly been spotted as they did and ended up having to leave the area completely so it looked like another normal New York City Iron Man sighting.  To top that off, Sharon’s comms had just stopped working completely and so no one had any idea what the group was actually saying.  It had been a series of fuck-ups and she knew she would have to get down into the mess soon the way things were going, but she was waiting to see if Clint could salvage it as he bumbled along the street acting stupid so that he could ‘accidentally bumped into his old friends Sharon’ and get some ears back on the scene.

“God, grant me patience,” she sighed.  It was a prayer that had become commonplace for her.  She’d use it when she was on an undercover mission where she had to pretend to be much less intelligent than she was.  She used it when she helped patch up Clint’s cuts after he’d spent a whole day being incredibly agile and dexterous, only to trip over his doormat and land face-first into a cactus he didn’t even know he owned.  She used it when Tony went on one of his rambling stories that she already knew.  She used it when she had to watch Steve jump off yet another stupidly high point for no reason other than he had to be their first.

“I’m not sure, Natalia,” a voice coming from way too closer said.  “I’m not sure that’s what you actually want.”

She spun around, quickly assuming a defensive position.  You stood at the corner of the building, completely relaxed.  You had dark sunglasses on and what looked like a faux leather jacket and large black boots.  You were leaning against the wall slightly and twirling a lollipop in your mouth, and despite the fact that on just about anyone else she’d think they were trying too hard, you seemed effortlessly cool.

“Who are you?”  Natasha snarled.

“Patience,” you said simply.

“Don’t tell me to be patient when you’ve just snuck up on me in the middle of a mission.  Tell me what you want, or I’ll send that piece of candy through the back of your throat.”

You laughed and held up your hands. “Okay, killer,” you teased.  “Relax.  I wasn’t telling you what to do.  I was saying that’s who I am.”

Natasha quirked her eyebrow at you.  “So your name is Patience, and you sit around waiting for people to pray for patience and you pop out thinking it’s a funny joke?  You know how close to death you just came right now?  I’m in the middle of something.  Go away before you get someone hurt.”

Natasha spun back to look down at Sharon who was now talking to Clint.  She saw the quick sleight of hand as they exchanged mic packs.

“Patience isn’t my name,” you laughed.

Natasha rolled her eyes, hoping to cling on to the last remaining patience she had rather than breaking your neck. That would just lead to a lot of paperwork.  “You said it was.”

“No,” you said, straightening up and reaching into your inner jacket pocket.

Natasha pulled her gun and pointed at you.  “Don’t even think about it.”

You pulled your hand out with a business card pinched between your thumb and index finger.  You raised your hands and flicked the card up so it was held between your index and middle finger.  “I said I was patience,” you said, taking a few steps toward her.  Natasha’s fingers twitched on the trigger finger as she tried to read your intention.  “You’ve been praying to me a lot lately.  I thought I’d show up.  But - you’re obviously not ready yet.”  You offered the card to Natasha and she took it without taking her eyes off you.  “Now… count to two hundred, and then go down the fire escape.  Agent Carter will be fine until then, and that will get you there exactly when you need to be.”

“What?”  Natasha asked, now completely confused.

“Just a suggestion,” you answered and casually strode off to the stairwell, leaving Natasha alone on the roof, completely perplexed over what had just happened.  She looked down at the business card.  Embossed in gold on the glossy black card were your name, address, and phone number.  There was no mention of a job or business or even the word patience that you had kept bringing up.

Natasha furrowed her brow and tucked the card into her pocket.  She wasn’t a trusting person by nature, but she had enough experience with magic to know not to completely ignore what you said.  She counted to two hundred as she paid close attention to what was happening in the street.  As she carefully made her way down to the fire escape, there was a commotion and Sharon drew her gun.  People scattered as a large van pulled up and armed men spilled out.

Natasha cursed under her breath as the street broke out in utter chaos.

“How did you even get there so fast?”  Sharon asked.

Thanks to your warning, Natasha had gotten there at the perfect time to take out most of the gunmen before they’d even shouldered their weapons.  In the end, while the plan hadn’t exactly gone how everyone had wanted it, and they still needed to actually find where they were operating from, they had made a lot of arrests, and thanks to Natasha, lots of innocent lives had been saved from being caught in the crossfire.

“There was this woman…”  Natasha started, not quite sure how to explain your strange appearance and departure from the rooftop.

“Oohhh…” Clint teased.  “Nat got the hots for some hot Chiquita.”

“Gross, Clint,” Natasha snarked.  “Don’t be a letch.”  Clint held up his hands in surrender and Natasha let out a long breath.  “It was weird though.”

“How was it weird?”  Steve said, sitting forward in his chair.  “Anything we need to worry about?”

Natasha shrugged.  “I don’t know - maybe,” she said.  “She said she was patience.”

Clint snorted.  “You definitely need to find her then,” he teased. Natasha swatted him on the back of the head.  “See,” he complained, rubbing his head.

“So her name was Patience?”  Steve said, opening up a drop-down screen above the coffee table.  “FRIDAY, do we have any record of a Patience as a member of any known criminal organizations.”

“Her name wasn’t Patience,” Natasha said, pulling the card out of her pocket and handing it to Steve.  “She said she was patience.”

“What does that mean?”  Steve asked, typing the details into the computer.

Natasha shrugged.  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Tony chuckled.  “I like the idea of anthropomorphic adjectives walking around.”

“Patience is a noun, Tony,” Bruce scolded.  “And so is Tony.”

“You know what I mean,” Tony said, waving his hands around.  “You can feel patient, you can’t feel Tony.”  He paused for a moment.  “Not unless you asked nicely.”

“Maybe she’s some kind of god,” Clint said.  Everyone turned to him and Natasha raised her eyebrow.  Sometimes Clint would say things that were so simple and so profoundly intelligent that she wasn’t sure if he just blindly stumbled into the answer or he was an actual genius.

“Is that a thing?”  Sam asked.  “Just random gods of emotions?”

Natasha shrugged.  “I have no idea.  It’s a pity Thor isn’t here, we could ask him.  But she did say I’d been praying to her.”

Clint snorted.  “Sounds about right.”

“But Thor’s not a real god, is he?”  Steve said.  “Wasn’t the theory that he’s just an alien that lives a long time and humans just decided he was a god?”

“The dude makes lightning, Cap,” Sam teased.  “Maybe he’s not the only place it comes from, but he can definitely create it and control it.  Why can’t there be the equivalent for something like patience.”

Clint snatched the card from Steve and shoved it into Natasha’s hands.  “I say you call her.”

“You just want Nat to stop smacking you on the back of the head,” Bucky snorted.

“No, I want to see my best friend get laid,” Clint said, folding his arms across his broad chest.  “I bet someone who can command patience would be great at sex.”

“And…?”  Bucky pressed.

“And I don’t want to get clocked on the back of the head anymore,” Clint muttered.

Everyone laughed and Natasha looked down at the card, spinning it around in her hand.

“You look like you’re considering it, Red,” Tony mused.  “What was she like?”

“Cryptic,” Natasha replied.  “Cool.”

“Was she hot?”  Clint asked.

“I think so,” Natasha said.

“So call her,” Sharon shrugged.  “She helped me out.  She can’t be all that bad.”

Natasha nodded.  “At the very least I might get some answers.”

“And who knows, Nat,” Clint said.  “Maybe she’ll be able to teach you a trick or two.”

Natasha bit the inside of her cheek trying not to laugh, and wishing she had a little bit of that patience right now.

// NEXT

[anonymousfiction211]

You’re mine

Summary: You and Loki are in a relationship. Loki is quite jelous of Steve. When Steve helps you on a mission, Loki decides you need to be reminded to who you belong.

Word count: 1.979 words

Warnings: Dubious consent

A/N: A little bit shorter than usual. Didn’t have a lot of time this week. Hope you’ll still enjoy it :)

The explosion was unexpected. Rubble was starting to come down, the building next to you was hit. Looking up, you saw the rubble coming at down at high-speed. You were going to get hit. Your movement froze and the only thing you did was staring at the rocks, getting bigger, getting closer. Suddenly a large figure grabbed your waist and pushed you down. It took you a moment to realize it was Steve. He was holding you tightly, his shield protecting the both of you against the falling rocks. He got up and helped you to your feet. “Try to stay sharp! We’re almost done.” he said to you before he ran off.

You looked around for any civilians. There were non left behind. The only person you saw was Loki. He was staring at you from the other side of the street. He looked mad. You started to walk towards him, but he disappeared. You shrugged it off. After a last check to be sure that there weren’t any civilians left, you walked towards the rest of the group. Steve, Thor and Tony were standing in the middle of the road. Building rocks were scattered all around this part of the city, cars were smashed and you could see bullet holes in the structures. Walking towards the group you asked if there was anything you could do. They dismissed you and you walked back to the chopper.

Loki was already there, sitting in one of the seats. When you walked inside the chopper he immediately got up. “Are you hurt?” he asked you. He had a worried look on his face. “I’m fine” you said, “Just some scrapes and bruises, nothing to worry about. You?” He looked you up and down, but didn’t answer your question. His facial expression changed from worried to angry. Here we go.. you thought. “How can you be so stupid? You could have DIED!” he started to yell. “I don’t know what happened, I realized too late what was happening. But I’m fine! Steve was there, everything turned out okay.” you told him in a calm voice, hoping he would also calm down. It didn’t work.

Loki glared at you. “Sure, the super-hero soldier to the rescue. How lucky indeed.” he spat. It wasn’t a secret that Loki was possessive of things, he thought belonged to him. You were one of those things. Since Steve was everything Loki wasn’t, your typical good-guy who always does the right things, Loki was scared of losing you to him. Steve was a bit flirty toward you, which didn’t help at all. Before the fight could escalate further, Steve and Tony walked inside. Loki rolled his eyes and sat back in his seat. You took the seat next to him. “Thor is flying himself back. Oh and (y/n) next time you need a hug, you can just ask. No need to put yourself in danger.” Steve said to you. He winked at you and walked with Tony toward the pilot seats. You could feel the anger radiation off of Loki. “You are not going on any more missions with HIM” Loki hissed at you. “Loki, I’m not interested in him. You are being unreasonable, besides we have no say in which mission we go on.” you whispered back.

“I think you forgot who you belong to” he growled back. “Buckle up guys, the weather will be bad. This will be a bumpy ride home. We should be there in half an hour.” Tony told everybody. He and Steve were chatting, but you were too far away to hear what they were saying. Thankfully, because that meant that they couldn’t hear you and Loki either. Loki grabbed you and pulled you on his lap. “Well..” he growled. He really is in a mood you thought. “Loki, can we not do this here? We’ll talk when we get home, okay?” you told him. He gave you a glare, but didn’t reply. The chopper took off and you hold on to Loki, so you wouldn’t fall of. When the chopper was steady again you got off his lap, intending on taking the seat next to him. He grabbed your waist and pulled you back in “You’re not going anywhere” he told you.

You wanted to respond, but suddenly you felt his lips on your neck. You held back a gasp. You tried to wiggle free, but Loki was much stronger than you. He put a hand on your thigh and started to stroke on the inside. You knew where this was going. “Loki, NOT HERE” you hissed at him. He chuckled against you neck “I do what I want.” He kissed his way upwards and nibbled on your earlobe. You felt yourself become aroused, but couldn’t relax because you were fully aware of Steve and Tony in the pilot seats. You tried to push Loki’s hand from you thigh. He grabbed your wrist “Here is what is going to happen. I’m going to fuck you right here, right now. And you are going to let me” he whispered in a husky voice. The sound of his voice was erotic and you shivered at the thought of Loki taking you right here, right now.

His hand travelled towards your pants and he undid the button and zipper. Not knowing how to react you sat very still on his lap. He slid his hand in your pants, exploring the fabric of your underwear. You tried to move away, but he pulled you further into his lap. Your back was now towards him. He grabbed both your wrists with one hand and pulled you flushed against him. His other hand was lightly stroking your clit through your fabric. You felt your panties become wetter. Loki was kissing and biting your neck. “Good girl” he purred. Your whole body shivered at his words. He was teasing you, licking your earlobe and lightly stroking you. Occasionally he put his fingers underneath the band of your underwear. When he heard your breath hitch he removed it and went back to stroking your clit through the fabric.

“You two still okay back there?” Steve asked you. You panicked and prayed he didn’t turn around. “Yeah, fine” you said, your voice more squeaky than before. That was Loki’s cue to slide your underwear away and put his finger inside of you. “Okay, were about half way.” Steve said. “We are not done for a very long time” Loki purred in your ear. He pushed another finger inside of you. You couldn’t help but starting to move your hips up and down. “That’s right. Fuck yourself with my fingers” he whispered to you. His commanding voice aroused you even more. You didn’t care anymore if anyone turned around, right now you needed to come. You needed to come badly. You rocked your hips faster, hearing the wet sounds of his fingers inside of you. You started to pant heavily. “You sure you’re doing fine kiddo?” Tony asked you. You started to panic, but didn’t stop riding Loki’s fingers. “She’s fine” Loki said back, his voice leaving no room to argue. You were about to come, when Loki pulled away his fingers. You whimpered at the empty feeling inside of you. “You come, when I tell you to come” he hissed at you. “Shall we see if we can make them turn around?” he purred. Your whole body tensed up. A green shimmer covered you and suddenly your clothes were gone. You wanted to gasp but Loki covered your mouth with his hand. “Now try to remain silent, because I’m not stopping for anyone” he whispered in your ear. He had freed his hardened cock and you could feel it nudge at your entrance. You felt helpless and noticed that you liked that feeling.

He slowly slid inside of you. The feeling was incredible and you fought to hold back your moaning. Loki started to roll his hips, hitting your G-spot. He slowly repeated the action, getting you worked up. It wasn’t fast enough to make you come, but it kept you right on the edge. Wanting more friction you started to move your hips with him. He grabbed your hair and pulled you towards him. His teeth were in your neck, biting hard. You flexed every muscle to keep yourself from making any sound. Loki started to lick your neck and chuckle. “If he saw you now, he surely knows who you belong to.” He put his hand on your clit, starting to make circles. At that time the plane was shaking. “Hold on some turbulence” Steve said. Loki snaked his other hand around you and pinched your hardened nipple. “Come now” he growled putting more pressure on your clit. He rolled his hips in a faster pace and you came undone in five seconds. The turbulence was loud and hid your moaning. You felt Loki pumping in and out of you harder. He grabbed your hips and moved you in a faster pace. Because of the sensitivity you were trying to get away, but he wouldn’t let you. The sound the turbulent plain was making drowned out your moaning and sobbing. You heard a growl behind you and felt Loki’s seed spill inside of you. He pumped a few more times, before he slid out of you.

“We’re going to land” you heard Tony say. Loki flicked his hands and a new set of clothes appeared on you. The jeans were the same, but your blue t-shirt was now a dark green one. He turned you a quarter, so you were still sitting in his lap but were able to see him. You try to stand up “Where you going?” he said, holding you firm on his lap. “To the bathroom, to clean myself up” you whispered. “No, you’re not. You need to be reminded that you’re mine” he growled. “Every time HE flirts with you, I’m going to fuck you senseless. I don’t care where we are. You’re mine. So unless you want everyone to see, I suggest you avoid him” he hissed. Before you could answer he grabbed your neck and pulled you in for a kiss. You knew you shouldn’t like this side of him, but you kind of did. The plain was now on the ground and the doors opened. You heard Steve and Robert get up from their chairs.

“Jesus, get a room” Tony laughed. Loki broke the kiss and you quickly stood up. Steve looked puzzled at you. “What’s wrong” Loki asked him with an innocent voice. “N- nothing, have you changed shirts?” Steve asked you. You felt yourself blush and look to the ground. Loki put an arm around your waist “I changed it for her, green does look so much better on her. Don’t you think?”  he said to  Steve. His voice didn’t sound annoyed, but the hateful undertone was clearly there. Steve motioned at his own outfit “I prefer blue, as you can see” he said in a monotone voice. Loki pulled you closer against him and kissed your temple. He glared at Steve. Luckily, Robert spoke up. “Well, I could eat. Let’s go!” he said. He walked outside towards the tower. Steve turned towards you “You really should consider changing your shirt back to blue” he said smirking at you. He then quickly followed Tony to the exit. You looked at Loki, who couldn’t possible look any angrier. You pulled him in for a kiss, hoping it would calm him. When you broke the kiss his expression was softer. Then an wicked smirk appeared on his face “I think you’re in for quite a exhausting evening” he said while his hand travelled towards your clit. Your breath hitched. He then kissed you and took your hand. You followed him towards the exit. You secretly were excited for dinner.  

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Unintended Target

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Avengers x Reader

Request: Hellus can I have a Bucky Barnes angst where you're dating and like you get hurt really bad on a mission because you tried protecting him and he just cannot stop crying while you're being treated. Steve like literally has to hold him through it. Ending in fluff. Sorry for so many details ahahaha! -Anon

Word Count:

Warnings: Canon typical violence, mentions of blood, a bit of angst

Author’s Note: We've reached the ending of the first week of May Madness! And welcome to my first one shot for the MCU! But you know me. I do hope you guys enjoy

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. ♥

Y/N never believed that she’d ever be able to run as fast as she had. Her heart pounded in her chest as she raced against time to get across the property in time. The sound of her boots hitting the ground had been lost to the sounds of gunfire that surrounded her.

She and the rest of the Avengers were dealing with the remnants of a hydra base. What was supposed to be a quick in and out mission seemed to take a turn. There was more manpower than they expected and it was taking longer just to clear the property.

At some point during the fight, she’d lost her earpiece making it difficult to keep in contact with the others. The others knew she could handle herself, even though they were currently trying to find her among the mess that was being created. She had been expecting to meet at the rendezvous spot with a smirk on her face with all the files she needed in her hand.

At least that had been the plan. But after her eyes had scanned one of the files, she dropped the file and began running out of the building. Hydra had a new plan alright. And it was that plan alone that had caused fear to course through her, wanting-more like needing-to be on the opposite side of the property.

“Anyone have eyes on Y/N yet?” Bucky called out as he took down another member of Hydra.

Bucky hated that Y/N currently couldn’t be reached. While he had trained with her plenty of times and knew that she was able to take care of herself, he didn’t know where she was at. He didn’t know if she was injured or having any issues. His girlfriend could easily wipe the floor with him, but as close as they were, he was worried.

She’s not in the west wing anymore. Bucky heard Natasha’s voice over the comms. She left a nice trail in the process for us though.

Natasha was trying to make light of the situation. If she could get Bucky to bring down his worry in the slightest, she was going to attempt it. Together the two were practically unstoppable, separate them and make it so they can’t speak to each other and they’ve got an anxious super-soldier.

I’ve got eyes on her. Clint’s voice came over next. And unless there’s something I’m missing, Y/N is either running from something invisible or she’s trying to get somewhere.

Anything from the west wing she could have seen? Tony’s voice filled their ears.

Still looking. Nat responded.

“Where is she headed?” Bucky asked a moment later, the swift movement of his knife piercing the body of another person advancing on him. With him down, Bucky had cleared his section. His concern now focused on why Y/N had been running away or towards something.

I’ve lost sight of her. She was headed towards the east. More than likely heading your way.

The plans had been replaying in Y/N’s head from the moment she read them in the west wing. The words on the pages she had found made her heart race in a way that all the training she had been through never made it race. The fear had threatened to bring tears to her eyes. All she knew was that she had to get to Bucky.

She hadn’t stopped for a moment since she had begun running. Even when she was faced with those that tried to stop her, she simply pulled out her dagger, allowing it to make contact for a brief moment before she continued. The bodies she left behind weren’t on her mind for more than a second.

As she made it towards the end of the property, her eyes landed on Bucky. From the looks of things, he had finished clearing things out and was beginning to look for her. She knew he had to be seeing as she no longer had her earpiece. It was something he’d always do no matter what the mission was that they were on.

Y/N believed she had made it there on time. That if he was alone he’d be okay. If there were no signs of Hydra, Bucky would be safe. That getting him out of the area would ensure his safety. It was as she began slowing down did Bucky notice her.

He took off on a light jog to meet her halfway from that point. “What happened?” He asked, seeing the look on her face.

“We need to get out of here, now.” she said in between the breaths of air she was trying to get.

You should listen to her. Nat’s voice picked up in Bucky’s ear. This whole thing was a damn setup.

The moment the words registered in his ear, they both noticed the way a red dot appeared on Bucky’s chest. His first instinct would have been to grab the both of them and find cover. Before he could do anything, Y/N’s instinct kicked in and she pushed Bucky out of the way, just as the shot had been fired.

Both of them had fallen onto the ground but it was Y/N that cried out in pain. Her hands automatically tried to grab at her back to take in the injury she had gotten. To apply some kind of pressure to it or at the very least to see where it was.

Just as Bucky moved to look her over a jolt of electricity shot through her body. One that caused a loud piercing scream to pass her lips before she went silent. Bucky could only watch as her body convulsed from the electrical charge running through her body. The last thing Y/N heard and saw was Bucky reaching for her the moment the shocking stopped his voice calling out to her before she passed out.

The minutes after had gone in a blur to Bucky. The others all speaking at once trying to figure out their location. They all had heard her screams. May it have been through the comms or even the fact that they were close by and could hear it. The words mixed in with the emotions that were currently playing through him.

From the moment she passed out, Bucky had her in his arms. He hardly even remembered yelling at the others to shut up and just get to them. They needed to leave before Y/N bled out or even died there in his arms. He didn’t even want to begin to think about her dying there. Not when that shot wasn’t even meant for her.

He could barely remember how long it had taken him to get to the quinjet, let alone the ride back to the compound. The whole ride back, he never left her side. Even when Bruce helped to stop the bleeding for the trip back, he never once took his eyes off of her. Even after getting her to the Med Bay, he fought to be with her. But he couldn’t be.

There was a storm of emotions brewing within him as he watched from behind a glass window as the team Stark hired had begun working on pulling the bullet out of Y/N’s back. The wound was simple, but because of the electric charge that came from it, her skin looked fried around the wound.

Y/N wasn’t even supposed to be in there. She wasn’t supposed to be wounded and it was because of who he was made to be. That the very organization that he had once freed himself from was desperately trying to get him back. And in the process, the woman he loved was injured.

“She’ll get through this.” Steve said as he came to stand beside Bucky. Steve knew that Y/N had been shot at, broken, and bloodied with several of the missions that she had been through. The woman always seemed to pull through.

“That charge that went through her body, was meant for me.” Bucky said never taking his eyes off of Y/N. “My body would have taken that charge and it would have caused little damage. She’s not like us.”

“She may not be like us, but I’ve seen her take on world threats and she’s come out of them right by your side.” Steve needed Bucky to have some kind of hope.

Bucky’s forehead placed against the glass as he shook his head. “I can’t lose her Steve.”

Steve watched as tears slowly formed in Bucky’s eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was fear or anger that had caused the tears. He brought his hand up and placed it on Bucky’s shoulder. It seemed that the simple action had caused Bucky to let the storm inside of him be released.

He placed his arm around Bucky, allowing his friend to lean on him while he broke down. Steve listened as Bucky mentioned time and time again about it should have been him. That he should have been the one on the table. But if it hadn’t been for Y/N, Bucky would have been taken away.

Steve stayed with Bucky for the time it took to get Y/N closed up and have tests done to make sure the surge of power that went through her hadn’t damaged any of her organs. The testing is what took the longest. The needing to ensure that Y/N would wake up was something that held the heaviest weight.

Y/N’s eyes slowly opened and she found herself in a bed in the Med Bay. A confused look played on her face for a moment before her brain registered the pain her body felt in that moment. She winced as she began to look around before a small smile pulled at her lips.

Bucky had been by her side, his head resting on the space beside her. She could tell he had been sleeping. She could see it in the steady rise and fall of his shoulders as she watched him. Bringing a shaky hand up, she ran it through his hair. The action itself was comforting to herself and if she was being honest, she was sure that it would bring some comfort to him as well.

Her touch had caused Bucky to lift his head quickly. “You’re awake.”

The slight nod of her head had caused her to wince. “How long was I out?” Her voice was rough as she spoke.

“Almost a week.” She could hear the relief in his voice at seeing her awake. He sat up and moved his chair closer before he reached for her hand. “Have I ever mentioned how crazy you are?”

That caused a slight smile to grow on her face, her fingers tightening around his own. “We both know I’m crazy enough to take bullets for the people I love.”

“Doesn’t mean you should.” He said with a slight nod of his head.

“I couldn’t let them take you. Not after everything we’ve done to make sure you got better.” She wasn’t going to let him ‘win’ this argument. “The moment I saw their plans, I didn’t care about anything else. I just knew I had to get to you.”

Bucky sighed as stood up and moved to sit on the bed next to her. His hand came up and ran along her cheek, before bringing his lips to hers for a brief kiss. “I was afraid that you weren’t going to wake up. They kept saying that you were okay, that it would be when you were ready that you would wake up. All I could think about was how there was a whole day where I thought I was going to lose you. And I hated that feeling.”

“If you’re trying to say I shouldn’t go on-” She tried saying before he cut her off.

“No, I would never say that. Not when you know how to take care of yourself. I was just thinking it would be a lot easier and probably safer for the both of us if we stick together as a team.” His words had caused her eyebrow to raise.

“You mean babysit me.” It caused them both to chuckle.

“Is it really babysitting if we enjoy working together?” He asked with a smile pulling at his lips.

She shook her head slightly. “Fine. But even I know it might be a while before I’m out in the field again.”

“About that,” He said as leaned into her a little more. “During your time away from the field, I was thinking about a vacation for the both of us. Lay low while the others cut all the loose ends to ensure there’s no one coming after us.”

“A recovery vacation, while laying low? I’m definitely listening.”

The two of them knew things would never be perfect out there. Not in their line of business. Not with their pasts or even who they’ve become. There would be times where they’d be placed in this same position. They'd be willing to keep the other one safe, no matter the cost.

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