#Also my patience with Steve is running quite thin lately

[hellsbells91]

Misgivings for Infinity War...

Having read a few theories and turned my brain over trying to figure if the trailers are a massive red herring or not, I guess what i’m most afraid for Infinity War at the moment, aside all the death, is that they’re going to undo all of Thor: Ragnarok’s fine work. So obvious declaration, I really liked the movie. 

We see Thor’s more vulnerable and happy-go-lucky side, he becomes so much more than this kind of stoic and stuck-up God just there in the background to bash things with Mjolnir. Confession: So before Ragnarok for me personally Thor was a character who was just kind of there - Loki was always a much more compelling character to watch. But Ragnarok changed that - things actually hurt Thor - and it’s not even necessarily physically. He loses his father, his hammer, his cape and his hair. So we’re seeing Thor without the pomp, seeing his journey trying to negotiate this new world where his identity and autonomy have been stripped from him.

We get more development on Bruce and the Hulk, and how it hurts Hulk to think that humans don’t like him and that he’s not wanted on Earth. We see a Hulk who remains in control, is self-reflexive and an almost child-like glee to him - he speaks, he has emotions, Hulk and Bruce share the same insecurity that they’re not as loved as the other half, or that they’re not as valued as the other Avengers. 

Loki as well begins to explore ‘turning over a new leaf’ as it were, to consider the possibility that if he wants to he can, as Thor says, be more - and that maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Take the one scene in the lift where we see actual emotion from him, that when faced with the prospect of being let go and never seeing Thor again, it saddens him. Loki finishes the film by Thor’s side - still the God of Mischief and a little shit, but with the opportunity for a new beginning, even when that means returning to Earth.

And finally after all their trials Asgardians are left as a refugee camp searching for a new home - but it doesn’t matter where they are, Asgard is a people with Thor as King and with friends/family by his side. Ragnarok is a film with an incredibly hopeful ending.

So now what I am terribly afraid Infinity War is going to do is just shit on Ragnarok within the first five minutes of the film by killing all of the Asgardians - probably along with the wonderful Valkyrie and Heimdall (who I’ll miss sorely) - rendering them pretty much extinct. Loki seems to be either dying straight away after one bold choice or just doing a 180 out of nowhere and allying with the enemy (perhaps worse), meanwhile allowing Thor to return to a more serious, stuffy and godly character.

I do hope I’m wrong, if that happened it would be like a massive kick in the teeth. 

[disgruntledspacedad]

The Rules of Engagement (4/5)

part of the The Better Love Series

pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader/ofc (Ears)

summary: (slow-burn, sexual tension, angst, a little bit of h/c in later chapters) He’s a DEA agent. You work for Centra Spike. Peña’s not your boss, exactly, but you’ve been fwb long enough that certain people are starting to think of you as An Item, and that just won’t do. 

words: 3.7k

warnings: 18+ for alcohol, language, smut, violence, general trauma. 

a/n: unbeta’d. Yeah, I know - I can’t count. This is gonna be five chapters. 

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

Murphy nearly bowls you over on his way down stairs, pulling up short when he sees you. 

“Shit!”

You glance down at yourself. Your clothes are rumpled and covered in ash and bile. You don’t even want to know what your face looks like. There’s rubble in your hair.

Murphy is still staring open-mouthed.

“The pharmacy below my apartment got bombed,” you explain hollowly. “I’m fine, I just need a shower.”

“You look like you need a hospital,” Murphy counters, eyeballing you with something akin to worry. “Fucking Christ, Ears, if Javi -”

You snap your eyes up at the mention of Javi. “Have you heard anything?”

For the first time since you’ve met him, Steve Murphy cracks a grin at you. “On his way home now.” He looks as relieved as you feel. “We got him.”

You manage to smirk back. “Good.”

“Congratulations, by the way. This one’s on you as much as anybody.”

“Thanks.” You sag against the side rail, trying to be subtle about it. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, your legs are shaking, and you think it’s only a matter of time before you fall over.

Murphy notices, because he reaches for your shoulder to steady you. “I really think-”

“No.” You cut him off forcefully, glaring at him with all the energy you have left. “No, Steve. I’m tired, that’s all.”

He sighs. Narrows his eyes. Frowns. “You’re bleeding.”

What?

Murphy gesturers to your temple with a finger that you have to stop yourself from flinching away from. “You’re bleeding, Ears,” he repeats, as if he’s expending a great amount of patience by pointing it out to you.

You reach up, wincing as you notice for the first time that your head hurts. When you draw your fingers back, they are coated in blood.

Murphy moves closer to get a better look.

“It’s just a scratch, Murph,” you tell him wearily. As far as you can tell, that’s true. There’s no gaping hole or giant gash, just a stinging little cut right at your hairline. “You know how head wounds are.”

He’s still glaring suspiciously at you, and you let him, meeting his gaze in silent challenge.

Eventually he sighs. “Okay, your funeral, I guess. Gimme a minute.”

Before you can retort, he ducks back inside, leaving you standing awkwardly on the front step. The walls are thin - you can hear him rummaging around in the kitchen. He’s back seconds later, key in one hand, a slip of paper in the other.

He hands you the paper first. “This is my pager number. Javi’ll be back soon, but I want you to contact me if anything crazy happens.” He motions to your head with his thumb.

“Okay,” you promise.

“And here’s this.” He presses the key into your hand.

You look up at him wide-eyed. “Murphy, you can’t just give me Peña’s key.”

“What, you think it would be any different if I stepped across the landing and did the honors for you? I’m already late.” He runs a hand through his hair with a huff. “Besides, he’d want you to have it.”

Somehow, you seriously doubt that.

Murphy fixes you with a stare. “Trust me.”

“Hardly,” you mutter, taking the key from his hand anyway. You hold it up for emphasis. “But you’re taking the fall for this one, alright?”

Murphy rolls his eyes. “I think I can live with that. Stay safe, Ears, and page me if you need anything.”

♠

You resist the urge to flop down on Javi’s sofa and sleep for a thousand years, instead making your way to the shower. Peeling away your dusty clothes feels so incredibly good. So does the hot water. You take your time, exploring the lingering aches and pains in your body as you scrub them with Javi’s little sliver of Irish Spring. Aside from a few bruises and that one little slice on your temple that won’t quit oozing, you’re not injured anywhere. You think you might be a little sore from being thrown backward tomorrow, and your lungs still feel funny and raw from having the air knocked from them, but otherwise, the bombing of your apartment is more inconvenient than anything.

You try very, very hard not to think about Emilio.

You step out of the shower only when the water runs tepid, the cold jarring you awake. Javi only has two towels, it seems - one left out to dry on the towel rack, the other crumpled in the corner with a pair of boxers. Nice. You opt for the one that’s on the rack, wiping yourself down then wrapping up your dripping hair.

There’s something deliciously deviant about sneaking naked through Javier Peña’s apartment when he’s not home. You shake away your guilt, trying hard not to be too weirded out or too turned on as you rifle through his dresser drawers. You’ve got to wear something.

Eventually, you come away with the green t-shirt and the only pair of sweats the man owns. You eye yourself in the mirror, considering. Javi’s clothes are ridiculous on you - you have to roll the sweats three times at the waist just to keep from tripping - but hell, at least you aren’t naked. Looks like that cut finally stopped bleeding, too.

Carefully, you pull your hair into a sloppy braid and gather your dirty clothes, doing a cursory sweep of the apartment to see if Javi has anything else that needs washing. Other than the little pile in the bathroom, you find a t-shirt and a pair of mis-matched socks in the corner by the nightstand. Not bad for a single guy living alone, you decide.

You make the trip downstairs to the communal laundry room quickly, noting the time on the kitchen clock when you return. You don’t feel like waiting beside the machine today. Flopping on the sofa has lost it’s appeal - you’re bone weary, but every time you close your eyes, you see fireballs and charred bodies.

Sleep is not on the agenda.

Sighing, you make your way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, glancing at the clock for the umpteenth time. 9:42. You put the water on, then shuffle downstairs to switch the laundry to the dryer. 40 more minutes, and then you can get out of here.

And then what?

You examine your options and find that the list is short. You aren’t going to stay here any longer than necessary - you’ve intruded on Javi’s privacy enough. Your only friend in Colombia is Ana, and that’s off the table for obvious reasons. Murphy isn’t at home, and Connie had left for the States just weeks after you’d arrived. Back to work, then.

You decide that’s best anyway. Somebody fucking bombed your apartment. Well, the mark was probably Emilio’s drug store, but still. Bombings don’t happen in Bogotá - that’s a Medellín thing. Especially a civilian target.

The rush of anger that consumes you is staggering. Who did this, and why?  Bombing a business is a very Pablo Escobar thing to do, but a small pharmacy? In Bogotá?

Ana and her father are good people. You know deep in your bones that they aren’t involved in the drug trade. You also have major doubts that this was an accident. So, what the fuck?

The injustice of it all makes you feel small and cold and helpless.

You’re missing something big.

Javi doesn’t have a television in his apartment. Even if you did have access the news, the information that you’re seeking is hardly going to be broadcast on live television, and certainly not so soon.

Work really is the best option, then. Between the bombing and Verdugo’s arrest, the sicarios must be on red alert. Maybe you can pick up on some chatter. 

Besides, you probably need to let Stechner know about your situation as soon as possible.

You glance at the clock. 10:07.

Ugh. You rise up on your tiptoes, bouncing in frustration. Caffeine and adrenaline have made you jittery. There’s something really cringe-worthy, too, about being alone in Javi’s apartment without his knowledge, especially given the way things ended between you.

The memory chafes, and you shake your head hard enough that it throbs.

Goddamn this day.

A shrill beeping jerks you from your thoughts, and you barely manage to stifle a shriek. Your pager!  You’d forgotten all about it. Your stomach swoops as you pick it up.

The number that flits across the screen belongs to Javi.

You take a breath. Weird. Aside from that one brief conversation yesterday, you haven’t spoken to him in weeks. It probably has something to do with Verdugo, you decide. Maybe he wants to inform you personally. That would be nice of him. After all, this was a pretty big arrest for you, too.

You locate the phone in the kitchen, dialing the number with trembling fingers. Damned coffee.

“Peña.” His voice is terse, clipped.

“Got your page,” you say warily. He sounds like he’s in a mood. “Is there -”

“Where are you?” he demands, cutting you off harshly.

You blink, startled. Forget ‘a mood,’ Javi sounds fucking livid. You’d assumed he’d be pretty relaxed, considering. “Umm, I’m actually at your place,” you speak slowly to hide the shakiness of your voice. Fuck, of all the times to get emotional. “Listen, my apartment was bombed. I just needed -”

You’re interrupted again by a sharp sigh. “Stay there,” Javi grinds out, and then there’s nothing but dial tone.

Slowly, you place the phone back in its cradle, processing the conversation.

What. The. Fuck.  

Bits of plastic clatter to the floor as the pager smashes into the refrigerator - you’re hardly even aware of throwing it. You sink to the kitchen floor, cradling your head in your hands and doing your damnedest to just breathe.

It’s not fucking fair. He was the one who stormed out slamming doors. You haven’t pressed him, haven’t been a nuisance. Well, aside from basically breaking into his apartment and borrowing his shower.

But fucking hell, somebody - probably Pablo Escobar -  just bombed your fucking apartment. You’re living in a foreign country and you don’t even speak the fucking language. There’s nowhere for you to go, and your clothes were a mess, and goddamn, you are just tired.

What were you supposed to do?

Footsteps thunder up the stairs. God, that was quick. You manage to leap to your feet just as the front door slams open with a bang.

Javi stops dead when he sees you, and your tirade dies in your throat.

“Hey.” It’s awkward, but it’s all you can manage.

He’s just staring at you, standing stalk still in the open doorway. He’s breathing heavily, like he’s been running. His expression is tight, carefully closed off. One fist is clenched at his side, the other still gripping the doorknob.

“Murphy let me in,” you babble. You knew he was on his way, but still, his sudden appearance startled you. “My place, I mean, the drugstore -”

“I know.” He’s toneless, expressionless, frozen except for his eyes. They rove over your face and body, and you’re reminded suddenly of watching him read reports - quick, efficient, and exacting, like he’s taking in every detail in an instant.

Fuck. Heat rushes you as you remember that you’re still wearing his clothes. “Okay,” you breathe shakily, hardly aware of speaking aloud. This is getting weird, and you really don’t have the emotional capacity to deal with Javier Peña’s shit today.

Your laundry is probably dry anyway.

“Where are you going?” Javi demands, resting a hand on your shoulder as you attempt to push past him.

That does it. “To get the laundry!” you bite back, twisting away from his touch with a lot more drama than is really necessary. “My clothes are dry!”

He pulls away as if burned, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

You stand there like that for a long moment, just assessing each other. You’re glaring up at him warily, sizing him up, while he watches you with an expression that you don’t recognize.

“I’ll go,” he says softly. There’s something quiet, almost regretful in his tone, and it shatters your defenses. You bit your lip and nod shakily, and then he’s gone, descending down the stairs without another word.

Jesus.

You exhale another shaking breath - everything you do seems shaky, today - and pour another cup of coffee.

♠

You feel like you’ve got a little more control of yourself once you’re back in your own clothes. Javi is lighting a cigarette at the kitchen table when you exit the bathroom, a fresh butt still hot in the ashtray next to him.

“Rough night?” you ask, dropping his half-folded t-shirt and sweats onto the counter.

He huffs sarcastically.

You sigh. Your patience is wearing very, very thin, but you decide to try one more time, just for the hell of it. “Congratulations, by the way. Murphy told me about Verdugo.”

He blinks up at you, like you’ve pulled him from deep thought. “Yeah,” he says slowly, still staring at you with an intensity that’s starting to really freak you out. He pulls hard at the cigarette, and the moment breaks. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

You nod, suddenly tired.

He notices. “Ears?”

“I need to go back in,” you cut him off before he can ask whatever he was going to ask.

He frowns. “Didn’t you just leave this morning?”

Frazzled as you are, it doesn’t occur to you to ask how he knows that. “Yeah, Peña, I did,” you snap. “But then some fucker bombed my apartment, and I’ve got a nasty feeling that it has something to do with Pablo Escobar. I can’t go home, and I can’t get any sleep, so I might as well make myself useful and see if there’s anything worth listening to today.”

His gaze had drifted during your speech. He’s resting his jaw on his his palm, staring off into the middle distance.

Ugh.

“So, will you drive me, Peña, or am I calling a cab?”

“Sorry,” he says softly, breaking himself out of whatever stupor he’d been in. He stands and extends a hand like he might like to reach for you before deciding against it and grabbing his gun instead. “Of course I’ll drive you, if you feel like going in.” He catches your eye as he tucks the gun into his belt, serious now. “I really am sorry about your home, Ears.”

God. All Javier Peña has to do is throw you a tiny bone, and you fucking melt. The relief you feel is palpable. “Thank you,” you whisper, closing your eyes for a long second.

You hear him rustling around with keys. “Let’s go, then.”

♠

The car ride to headquarters is silent. Javi smokes three more cigarettes, tossing the butts out the open window before you even hit the parking lot, one after the other. You wonder what the fuck is going on with him.

He makes a point to let you out of the passenger side door, a little quirk that had been hit or miss before, depending on his mood. You walk together up the embassy steps, him hanging close to your shoulder but not quite touching you, and you wonder if this is his strange way of apologizing for the weirdness before.

You’re halfway to Stechner’s office when you realize that Javi is still following you. You arch a curious brow in his direction. He pointedly ignores it.

Okay, seriously. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” The question comes out a lot harsher than you intend, but hell, it’s been a terrible day.

He glances down at you, almost apologetic. “It can wait a minute.”

“Ears!”

Oh, fuck. Steve Murphy is running up the hallway, gaze zeroed in on you.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, just whirls on Javi. “Javi, what the fuck is she doing here?”

You bite the inside of your cheek in an effort to keep from screaming. “I’m trying to go do my job, Murphy, if the fucking DEA will let me.” Thankfully, your voice comes out pretty level.

Javi’s looking at Murphy with a narrowed gaze, head cocked, hands on hips. “What do you mean, Murphy?” he asks in a low voice.

Murphy throws his hands up in consternation. “I mean she should be in bed, or at a fucking hospital. You should have seen her this morning, Javi. Looked like she’d come straight from a war zone!”

Javi whips around to stare wide-eyed at you. “Wait. You didn’t say…” All of the color is draining from his face. “You were there?” 

Something about the breathlessness the words, like they’d been punched out of him, sends little shocks of electricity zinging across your skin. “I’m fine,” you manage. As protests go, it’s pretty weak.

“God, Ears, you’re still bleeding.” Goddamn Steve Murphy and his fucking preoccupation with your blood. “Now get out of here, please, before I call you an ambulance. Jesus.”

Javi’s face is a storm cloud of emotions as the pieces continue to click into place. “Ears,” he growls, more horrified than angry. He grips you carefully by the shoulders, looking you over again. This time, he brings his fingers gently to your temple. They come away bloody.

He sucks a sharp breath, glancing up at Murphy. “You’ll handle Verdugo?”

Murphy’s lips are pressed into a fine line. “Absolutely, Javi. Get her out of here.”

♠

He escorts you from the building with a hand pressed firmly against the small of your back. It would be sweet, if not for the blistering pace and the stony expression that’s frozen on his face. People take notice, leaping out of your way, craning their necks to watch as you storm by. By the time you reach the doors, your cheeks are flaming.

“Agent Peña!”

Oh shit. You hadn’t even noticed Martinez and his entourage milling around the entrance.

“Yeah?” Javi bites out.

Martinez raises a brow at the scene the two of you make - you, bleeding and shamefaced, Javi damned near parading you into the parking lot with all the subtly of a thunderclap.

God, there’s no way this ends well for either of you.

“Verdugo is in interrogation room three,” Martinzes says, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Javi doesn’t even slow. “Stick Murphy on it,” he snaps over his shoulder. “I’m busy.”

Nobody dares argue with him.

♠

Instead of getting into the car, Javi leans heavily against the door.

You pause, opening your mouth to question him, but he reaches for your jaw before you can speak, carefully tilting your face up into the sunlight.

“Are you okay?”

His voice is soft, but he’s looking at you in undisguised concern, eyes roving over you with an intensity that tempts you to drop your gaze.

You shiver. You can’t help it - you’re exhausted and emotional, and things with Javi have been so weird for so long, and now he’s staring at you, sharp and worried, running his thumbs across your scalp to gently assess for injuries.

No, you are not okay.

He notices the little tremor that darts through your body and rests one hand on your shoulder, leaning in to look you straight in the eye. “How far were you from the explosion?”

“Across the street,” you tell him, breathless for all of the wrong reasons. It’s only half-way true, you’d been crossing the street when the bomb had gone off, far closer to the blast zone than you’re leading him to believe. But he’s so close, cupping your cheeks in his hands, leaning forward to shield you from the traffic-side of the parking spot with his body as he continues to draw his fingers across your skin, gently assessing for more damage.

“It just knocked me off my feet,” you continue. Your throat is suddenly so dry. “Startled me, more than anything.”

Javi reaches with one finger to expose the wound on your temple. It’s still oozing.

“And this?” he asks, pinning you with another piercing stare.

You reach up, catching his hand as his fingers begin to drift down your cheek. He twitches reflexively. “Just a little scratch,” you promise him. “Falling glass, or shrapnel, I guess. Something grazed me. I never hit my head.”

This is not a lie. You never blacked out; you’re not hurt.

He blusters a sigh, scrubbing his face with his palm for a brief second. “I should really take you to the hospital.” His jaw tightens as he speaks.

“I just said I didn’t hit my head. I’m fine.” You indicate the wound on your temple. “This is nothing. You know how head wounds like to bleed.” You look up at him, projecting as much wide-eyed, awake, vibrant woman as you possibly can after walking away from a fucking bomb, and squeeze his hand in reassurance. “Please, Peña. I just want to go -”

Home, you almost say.

You stop yourself just in time. There is no home, not anymore. And you won’t make the mistake of referencing Peña’s place as anything other than ‘Peña’s place.’ That would be supremely stupid, given all of the recent drama.

“To bed,” you manage instead. “I’m just tired.”

And god, that is the truth.

If Javi notices your faux pax, he doesn’t mention it. He’s hardly taken his eyes off you. He’s near enough that you can feel the heat of his skin, one hand still twined in yours.

It’s all you can do to avoid resting your head on his chest.

“Okay,” he mutters begrudgingly, and then shakes his head like he hadn’t meant to agree. “I’ll take you home.”

You smile wanly at him. “Thanks.”

♠

author’s notes/confessions

I know you still have questions. I promise you, I will answer them.

Steve Murphy is a good bro.

Y’all hit me up if you want a little Javi one-shot after this next chapter. I wrote it for my own reference, but it might be a fun read, if you’re wondering what’s happening inside his head right now.

@tiffdawg​, look what you made me do. ;)

[redgillan]

Missed Chances -  Part 8

Steve Rogers x Reader ♀️ [// Bucky Barnes x Reader for now]

Summary: 13 Going on 30!AU - Steve Rogers is crazy about you, but he’s afraid his feelings are only one sided and being one of your best friends, he doesn’t want to ruin your friendship… On his 13th birthday, he makes a wish and wakes up in the body of his 30 year old self. The problem is, you’re no longer a part of his life.

Word Count: 3,225

Warnings: Angst, Reader has a small panic attack

A/N: sO I wasn’t sure I wanted to end this chapter like that but no one replied to my post so I guess we’re doing this. Anyway I hope you enjoy this chapter it’s a fluffy one for our boy Steve. Also here’s the song if you’ve never heard of it ;)

7:36 p.m.

Trying to calm yourself down, you took a deep breath. You could feel your anger bubbling up inside you. You had been waiting on your kitchen stool for over thirty minutes, and your patience was running thin.

You picked up your phone and sent a quick message to your father-in-law, telling him you were going to be late. He replied with a thumbs up emoji.

It didn’t surprise you that Bucky was late to his own engagement dinner, but you still wished he had made an effort.

You locked your phone when you heard him coming up the stairs. You watched as he dropped his bag near the coat rack and threw his keys on the kitchen table. They landed close to your phone.

“Sorry, I know I’m late,” Bucky said.

He grabbed the hem of his Henley and yanked it over his head, throwing it on the floor. You stayed quiet and kept your eyes trained on your phone. It annoyed you that this was all he had to say. A simple pathetic apology.

“You remember Sitwell, one of the head chefs? They fired him today, and now they’re looking for a new head chef. Doll, I think I have a real chance here. I mean, your magazine is basically promoting my restaurant for free. My bosses love that!” He toed off his shoes and quickly unbuttoned his jeans. “I’m gonna take a shower. You can order an Uber, I won’t be long.”

He disappeared into the bathroom and turned on the shower. You opened the app and ordered the car, fighting back tears. You were tired of coming second.

You arrived at the restaurant thirty minutes late. Bucky’s parents and sister were already seated, a pitcher of margaritas and some appetizers sat on the table. You apologized for being late and took a seat next to Bucky’s mother.

“I thought your parents were joining us,” Winnie said, sipping her drink.

“They’re on holidays,” you replied, shrugging off your jacket.

“Good for them!” she cheered as her husband filled up your empty glass.

You traded your full glass for Bucky’s empty one. “No alcohol for me,” you said, pouring water into your glass. Bucky’s younger sister looked at you with a funny expression. You mentally rolled your eyes. “I’m not pregnant, I just don’t want to drink.”

You were in a sour mood, which unfortunately happened quite frequently these days. Between work, planning the wedding –without Bucky because he always had too much work- and trying not to strangle Natasha who was your unofficial wedding planner, you really needed a goddamn break.

Bucky must have sensed something was wrong because he was suddenly a lot more attentive. He tried to reach across the table to touch you, but you quickly moved your hand away.

You weren’t looking at him, though you could feel his sad puppy dog eyes on you. You purposely focused on what his father was saying. Bucky’s eyes were your weakness, but you weren’t ready to forgive him. He had to realise he had hurt you.

Bucky cleared his throat. “So, um I’m sorry we’re late. It’s my fault.”

“Something happen at work?” Georges asked with furrowed brows.

“No, nothing important,” Bucky quickly replied, trying to meet your eyes. You relented and glanced at him. “Nothing important,” he repeated, his voice soft.

He extended his hand across the table and you barely hesitated before giving him your own. He smiled at you, mouthing the words ‘I love you’.

“How’s the wedding coming along?” Winnie asked with a bright smile. “You know, I read all the articles in your magazine. I really like them, it’s basically a how to plan your own wedding series. I wish it had been a thing when we got engaged.”

“It would have saved us a lot of headaches,” George agreed.

You and Bucky stayed quiet, not knowing what to say. They didn’t seem to notice the growing tension, and you didn’t want to be the one complaining that planning a wedding was hard work no matter who was there to help you.

Millions of people were waiting for your wedding. It was completely nerve-wracking.

Rebecca leaned across the table and grabbed a mozzarella stick. “I love awkward silences,” she said with a cocky smile.

You all laughed, diffusing the tension. “It’s coming along fine,” you answered Winnie’s question. “We’re not allowed to say much, we signed a confidentiality agreement.”

“But we’re the groom’s parents,” Winnie complained, “and the ceremony is happening in our backyard.” George threw her a glance, silently telling her to drop the subject. “Okay fine,” she mouthed, “but that’s not fair.”

Despite the lingering tension, dinner went rather smoothly. No one asked you any prying questions. You told Winnie and Rebecca that you had an appointment to try on the muslin dress Steve had made for you. Rebecca also had to try on her bridesmaid dress. They were both excited to share this moment with you.

You and Bucky were quiet on the drive home. When you finally got home, you undressed quietly and prepared for bed. You felt Bucky’s arms wrap around you from behind. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and breathed in deeply. You let yourself melt against his chest.

“Am I in trouble?” he mumbled against your neck, his lips finding the tender spot behind your ear.

You sighed. “It depends. I’m busting my ass planning this wedding, but it seems like you’re already married to your job.” You turned in his arms to face him. “Who is it going to be? Me or your job?”

“I want what’s best for you,” he said, holding you tight. “I need money to give yo-”

“Answer the question,” you pressed. “Me or your job?”

He looked at you with a pained expression. You wondered what was going on through his mind. Bucky was hard to read sometimes.

“It’s you,” he finally said, “always you.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief, the tension slowly draining from your body. Arching against him, you kissed him hard on the lips. “Then prove it,” you whispered against his mouth, “come with me to the party next week. Take a day off.”

Bucky craned his neck toward the ceiling and sighed. He stayed quiet, pondering your words.

If he wanted to be the new head chef, he had to keep working hard. But ironically, the only reason he had been working so hard was so he could give you a better life. It didn’t make sense to keep working himself to death if you weren’t with him anymore.

Unfortunately, Saturdays were the most hectic days at the restaurant.

“I’m not allowed to take my Saturday off,” he told you, smiling sadly when your face fell. “But I’ll ask someone to trade shifts with me. I’ll be there before eleven.” He looked you in the eye, making sure you knew this was not an empty promise. “We’ll dance and laugh and drink. All night long.”

Your face broke into a shy smile. This wasn’t perfect, but it was a fair compromise. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him.

“It’s going to be the best party ever,” you said.

*

“This party sucks.”

Scott turned and leaned his back against the bar, surveying the deserted dance floor. He hummed in agreement as you blew out a frustrated breath.

People had started gathering at around eight but the music was garbage, and even the open bar wasn’t enough to make the guests stay. It was a Saturday night in New York, they still had time to find another party.

“It's 11 o’clock and I'm at a party.” Steve appeared out of nowhere. “It's so cool.”

“It’s 11 o’clock and people are leaving,” Scott said, cocking a brow. Steve’s enthusiasm was a little odd. He was celebrity after all, this shouldn’t faze him. “It’s a disaster.”

You spotted Nick and Natasha walking across the dance floor with scowls on their faces.

“Here comes trouble,” you mumbled to your friends as your bosses approached your corner.

“Where’s Barnes?” Natasha asked.

“He shouldn’t be long,” you replied after checking your phone. “He had to work tonight.”

Nick looked around the room and slowly shook his head. “It doesn’t really matter anymore. Most of the guests are gone.” He waved the bartender over and ordered a shot. “Is it me? Do I smell? Do I have bad breath?”

You, Scott and Natasha didn’t say anything. You all knew he wasn’t expecting an answer, he just needed to vent. The party must have been incredibly expensive and it was a complete disaster.

To your horror, Steve started leaning toward Nick, sniffing the air around him. Natasha looked at him as if he were crazy.

“No, you smell nice,” Steve said.

“Really,” Nick continued, his jaw ticking, “because people seem to be running for the exit like someone set off a stink bomb.”

“I don’t smell anything.” Steve looked at him with a confused puppy look on his face.

Scott bit back a laugh. “I think he means the party is a stinker. A dud. A flop. A zero on a scale of one to ten.”

“Thanks, Scott,” Natasha said, crossing her arms.

“Maybe if somebody played something else,” Steve said, nodding toward the DJ. “Something with a melody.”

Nick cut him off. “Play whatever you want. All I know is if those people don't start dancing really, really soon...” He promptly raised his shot glass. “Here's to early retirement.”

Nick grimaced as the amber liquid rolled down his throat. Steve cocked his head to one side as he observed the man digging in the record bin behind the turntables. An idea formed in his mind and, with a lopsided grin, he started making his way toward the dance floor.

“Steve,” you called after him. You remembered that smile too well. He was about to do something stupid.

The four of you watched as Steve neared the DJ. They spoke for a brief moment, though you were too far away to hear what they were saying. Then Steve turned around and, as he reached the middle of the dance floor, an upbeat music filled the room.

You frowned. The song was familiar, but she couldn't quite place it.

Steve addressed the small crowd with a shy wave, but all he got in return were blank stares. He took a deep, calming breath and started moving to the beat.

This is something new, the Casper slide part two Featuring the platinum band, and this time... We’re gonna get funky

Oh, no

Your eyes widened in horror as you recognized the song. The Cha Cha Slide. You hadn’t heard that song in years. It reminded you of your childhood, of the times in middle school when you had been going to slumber parties.

The dance in itself was really simple, you just had to follow the lyrics.

People were snickering as they watched Steve dance. He felt incredibly stupid, alone on the dance floor. He met your eyes and silently pleaded with you to join him.

You shook your head. “No, absolutely not!” you said in a loud whisper.

“Please,” Steve mouthed back.

Turn it out, to the left Take it back now y'all One hop this time

Steve took the lyrics as his cue to hop toward you like a bunny. You tried to hide behind Scott, but that idiot pushed you forward. Steve grabbed your hands and tried to pull you towards him.

“C’mon, please,” he begged.

“I haven't done this in over ten years.”

“It’s the Cha Cha Slide, he literally tells you what to do,” Steve shouted over the music.

He led you to the dance floor, and you found yourself paralysed. Everyone was staring at you. You tried to follow Steve’s lead, but you just felt too ridiculous. He encouraged you to keep dancing and you did your best not to bolt out of the room.

Slide to the left, slide to the right Crisscross, crisscross

In a synchronized movement, you both jumped and crossed your right foot over your left, then did it again. You looked at each other and laughed.

“All right, here we go!” you shouted, smiling brightly.

Despite your embarrassment, you were starting to really enjoy this. More people joined in. You saw Scott take Natasha’s hand and lead her to the dance floor. Natasha playfully rolled her eyes as she begrudgingly agreed to follow him.

The song ended too fast for your liking. You were feeling lighter than you had in a long time. Another song came on, a popular song from the 80s’, and everyone cheered.

“You’re a genius,” you shouted over the music, taking Steve’s hand and letting him twirl you into his arms. “That was so much fun! You have some great moves, Rogers! I didn’t know you could still do the limbo. That was impressive!”

Steve blushed and took a step away from you, running his hand through his hair with a sheepish grin. He looked at something over your shoulder, and grinned. The cheers of the crowd caught your attention.

You turned around and saw Nick doing the moonwalk. You were never going to be able to look him in the eye again.

It was after midnight when you finally stopped dancing and took a break. You ordered a drink and checked the time on your phone.

00:20 a.m.

No new messages.

You frowned, and looked around for Bucky. He should have been here by now. The room was absolutely crowded, and you thought that perhaps he was still looking for you.

You took your drink and moved to a quiet spot near the restroom where you called Bucky. He didn’t pick up. You left him a message, saying that you were at the bar waiting for him. You also sent him a text with the same information.

You waited another thirty minutes, frequently checking your phone, but Bucky hadn’t tried to contact you.

It was now 1 a.m. and you were getting a little worried. You tried not to panic, after all Bucky was always late so it was probably nothing.

You went outside and called the restaurant, thinking that maybe he was still working. The call went straight to voicemail, and you knew it was because the restaurant was closed and the team had left the building.

You remembered that Shuri was working with Bucky tonight, she had even agreed to trade shifts with him. You called her, but all she could tell you was that he had left just before eleven o’clock.

“There you are!” Steve’s voice made you jump. His smile dropped as he met your frightened eyes. “Something wrong?”

“I can’t find Bucky,” you said. “He’s not answering his phone. I don’t know what to do.”

Steve’s expression changed. He looked around, as if doing so would make Bucky appear out of nowhere. The lump in his throat dropped into his stomach like a lead ball.

Steve’s silence made you even more nervous.

“I don’t know where he is,” you cried. “What if something happened to him on the way here?”

Your legs buckled and Steve was at your side in an instant, holding you upright. You were panting, your eyes unfocused. He had had enough panic attacks to recognize the symptoms.

He held your gaze, and drew in a deep breath through his nose before releasing it slowly through his mouth. Calming breaths, you recognised the technique. You breathed in tandem until your heartbeat returned to normal.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, mustering up a half smile. “I’m going to drop you off at home. You’ll stay there in case Bucky comes home, and meanwhile I’ll look for him. Okay?”

You nodded, letting yourself smile a little.

*

You tried calling Bucky one last time while you climbed the stairs to your apartment. He didn’t answer and you left yet another voicemail. You begged him to call you back as soon he got your messages.

You fumbled with the lock, your nerves made your hands shake, and finally got it open. You leaned one hand against the wall for support as you bent down to remove your high heels.

“Did you have fun?”

Bucky’s deep voice startled you. You hurriedly searched for the nearby switch to turn on the lights. He was sitting at the kitchen counter with a half empty bottle of whiskey in front of him.

“You’re home,” you said, releasing a relieved breath. “I tried to call you like ten times.” You noticed that his phone was next to the bottle. “Why didn’t you answer? I was worried.”

Scoffing under his breath, Bucky reached for the bottle of whiskey. “You were worried? When? When Steve was twirling you around or when you were giggling against his chest?”

You frowned at him. Bucky had seen you dance with Steve, he’d seen the two of you laugh and have fun. It could only mean one thing.

“You came to the party,” you concluded out loud.

“Yeah, nice solve, Sherlock.”

“You’re drunk,” you chastised.

“And you’re cheating on me,” Bucky shouted, slamming the bottle on the counter.

You held his accusatory stare for as long as you could stand it, then bent your head and swallowed the lump in your throat. That was a low blow and completely unjustified. Sometimes his insecurities got the best of him. Especially when he was drunk.

It was pointless to argue with him right now. You swallowed your frustration and anger as best you could before you raised your head.

“You’re drunk, I’m not having this conversation tonight,” you said as you crossed the room. “You’re sleeping on the couch.”

At least he didn’t protest.

You grabbed the handle of the Murphy bed that leaned against the wall, and pulled it down. You took your phone and typed a quick text to Steve.

I found Bucky. He’s at home, drunk, but safe. Thank you for what you did tonight. You’re a good man.

His answer came a few seconds later. I’m relieved. Let me know if there’s anything I can do. Goodnight!

You were getting ready for bed, but your brain was rehearsing the upcoming argument you would soon have with Bucky.

You got even more upset because you couldn’t calm down. Bucky was still sitting at the counter, staring off into space. You didn’t want to be in the same room with him.

Your apartment was a tiny studio, you couldn’t isolate yourself. And even though you hated his guts, you didn’t want to throw Bucky out of the house. He wasn’t sober enough to take a cab or even walk. Besides, Sam would be upset if Bucky showed up drunk at his door in the middle of the night.

You stared at your trainers closely, calculating your next move. You felt as though you were suffocating, stuck between two men and a wedding, and unable to move forward because you wanted to please everyone.

You had to get out of the apartment.

You quickly slipped your feet into her trainers and headed for the front door. Bucky’s tired eyes were focused on you as you took your jacket and keys.

“Where you goin?” he slurred.

“Out,” you said before you closed the door behind you.

[universalfanfic]

High school teachers au with @inkoutsidethelines. The (also lost) Christmas part. 

Christmas was always a busy time. There were tests to grade, excited students to keep in line, and shopping to fit in before the break. Sutton saw the restless foot tapping and darting eyes of her class. She felt it too. The students weren’t the only ones ready for the time off. 

Sutton rapped a stack of papers on her desk and cleared her throat, making sure the students were paying attention before bothering to speak. 

“Alright, I know we’re at the end of our day. My gift to you is you’re free to go early if you want. Have a good holiday everyone.” 

The room cleared in record time with little more than a few scattered pieces of paper as evidence that kids had been there. Sutton sighed in relief as the freedom of break settled in. 

Glorious.

Shoving some curriculum notes into her bag, she hurried to head out before the other staff could disappear without saying goodbye. She had a separate tote purely for all the last minute gifts she was determined to hand out and she didn’t want it full on her way home. 

Tony was first on her list purely because he practically sprinted to the doors while pushing through students to get to the holiday break first. He’d also been mentioning having a gift for Pepper Potts, so he was probably doubly determined. 

Sutton half jogged down the hall and more students were flooding out and heading in the opposite direction. As she predicted, Tony already had his laptop slung over one shoulder and shades halfway on when she reached him. 

“Wait, Tony!”

Falling in step beside him, she dug through her tote for his gift. 

“Hey, Sutton. Merry Christmas. “Yeah, Merry Christmas.”

Finally, she saw the red and gold wrapped boxes and yanked it out with a triumphant cry. 

“I wanted to catch you and give you this before you left.”

“Aw man, you didn’t have to do that.”

Sutton shrugged and grinned as she passed the box over. 

“It’s fine, I like doing it. It’s not for the entire school anyway; you’re in an elite club.”

“Well I’m honored.” He grinned and shook one box. “Any cookies in here?” “You know there are.” Tony’s grin widened. 

They walked down the hall together and chatted about holiday plans as they made their way to the front of the school. Tony ripped open the inedible portion of his gift before even reaching the parking lot because his patience was just that threadbare. She’d gotten him a small bluetooth speaker that he could use when he was working on cars or in his garage. He at least appeared to like it, and Tony wasn’t one to sugarcoat too many things, so she trusted that she’d picked well. 

Both of them were laughing as they reached the front doors and idled. Tony had the grand plan of wooing Pepper with a velveteen rabbit, given it was supposedly a favorite childhood story of hers, and then perhaps dinner if that gift was well received. The image of him standing and cradling a stuffed bunny while Pepper stared at him with that flustered look she had was too priceless. 

“This plan may just work,” Sutton encouraged him. “It’s the holidays, right? It’s supposed to be a magical time of year.” Tony huffed and mussed up her hair. 

“You’re a pretty mediocre wingman, you know?”

“Tony.”

Two heads of blond hair caught her attention, and Sutton instantly diverted. She gave Tony a quick wave and moved down the hall to intercept the pair. 

“I’ll see you, Tony. Have a great holiday!” “You too.”

He watched her leave with a half smile on his face. Steve looked a bit stiff when there was no reason for it. Their eyes met and he gave him a wink and a grin, eyes drifting back to Sutton for a moment. Steve’s expression hardly flickered. 

“Yeesh,” Tony lamented under his breath. “Half Pint has her work cut out for her. Aw well.” He clapped his hands together.  “It’s Pepper time.” 

[]

Sutton and Tony were laughing together again and Steve felt something inside him prickle with unease. Not that he really cared, of course. It wasn’t his business. They looked like they enjoyed each other’s company and that was a good thing. Tony was a good friend and Sutton was a sweet woman. They’d probably work well together. He stamped down on any unnecessary twinge that thought caused. 

Her smile grew as she neared them and Steve couldn’t help mimicking it slightly. An elbow jabbed his ribs. 

“She gave Uncle Tony a present,” Star whispered. Steve cut his eyes down to his daughter and his smiled tightened. 

“I can see that.”

Sutton reached them before Star could say anything else. He still wasn’t sure what had gotten into his daughter lately, but she seemed a bit better behaved when Sutton came by. Whether it was due to an audience or because she wanted her teacher to like her, he didn’t know. 

“Hey, Merry Christmas guys.” Sutton tucked a curl behind her ear and straightened out her tote bag with a small wave. “I’m glad I caught you before you left, I had a couple things for you.” 

“Oh, you didn’t have to-” 

“It’s fine,” she interrupted cheerfully. “Like I told Tony, I don’t do this for the entire staff. Just a select few.”

“Really?” Star tried to peer into Sutton’s tote and see the gifts inside. 

“Ok, you can’t the other students I’m playing favorites.”

She pulled out three wrapped gifts and offered them up. Steve blinked and rubbed at his neck before accepting them. 

“You really didn’t have to,” he insisted. The tags labeled the gifts for him and both his kids. That prickle inside him tightened to a pinch and he took a deep breath. “Thank you,” he rephrased. “This was very thoughtful.”

“You got me and JJ something!” Star’s tone was lilting and her eyes shining. The season was always a bit difficult without their mother, but Star had a persistent spirit and she was more than eager to dive into traditions and decorating. And stockpiling gifts under the tree. 

Star moved in for a hug and Sutton returned the affection with an ease and care that many teachers never showed. Steve knew Star was close to Sutton as her teacher, of course, but it hadn’t quite occurred to him just how much. It didn’t seem like Sutton was faking affection either. 

“It’s not a lot,” Sutton explained, one arm still around Star’s shoulder. “I just saw a couple small things that reminded me of all of you. Careful with JJ’s, I’ve almost ripped it a couple times now.” 

The package was slightly larger than a football, and whatever was inside was obviously soft by the way the paper crinkled and shifted when gripped. 

“I couldn’t find a box for it,” she confessed. 

“If he doesn’t rip it open before Christmas, it’ll be a miracle,” Steve said with a smile. His gaze drifted down and his smile faltered slightly. “I didn’t know you were going to do this or I would-”

“We got you something too,” Star cut in. She was still hugging Sutton, but pulled away to reach into her backpack and pull out a gift of her own. It was wrapped with careful precision, sporting sharp corners, but was tapped within an inch of its life. Star cast a look up at him before passing the package over.

“It’s not much either,” she said. “But I- er- we hope you like it.”

Steve almost insisted that he had no previous knowledge of the gift and therefore couldn’t take credit, but Star shot him another look and he decided against it. He was doing what he could to not set her off unnecessarily and it wasn’t worth another argument right before Christmas. 

Besides, Sutton looked so delighted to have received something from them in return, he couldn’t quite make himself admit it. 

“Thank you! I’m sure I’m going to love it.”

“You can open it now, if you want.”

Sutton looked up to Steve, as if asking if he agreed, and Steve nodded. 

“I don’t mind.” 

“Well, alright.”

The paper was ripped away to reveal a picture frame underneath. It was a cheap, black frame, and he actually remembered Star buying it the week before with some allowance money when they went shopping for JJ. He couldn’t see what was in the frame since Sutton was studying whatever it was. 

Her face softened, the expression of joy tampered down from something a bit showy to an expression more quietly sincere. Star peered over Sutton’s shoulder to look at the frame herself, smile wide. Steve was curious to see what it was. 

“Do you like it?”

“Star, I love it. I’ll hang this up the minute I can actually find a hammer. Aw, look at you. You look so pretty.”

“I think everyone looks pretty good,” Star said, an odd inflection to her voice. Sutton’s

eyes trailed over what was obviously a photograph and she paused. The pause was momentary, then Sutton cleared her throat and the cheerful smile was back full force. 

“I agree.” 

Finally, she flipped the frame around and looked at Steve. 

“Thank you. This is so sweet. I love collecting little memories like this.” 

It was a picture from Halloween. Star had insisted they get a group shot, and a neighbor had been kind enough to take a few for them. They were all huddled together in this picture. He’d crouched down with JJ to a bit to be closer to Sutton and Star’s height, and JJ was in the middle of reaching for one of Sutton’s antenna while she gave Star bunny ears.

He wasn’t entirely sure when Star had been able to print off the picture, but he still tried to play it off. 

“You’re welcome. Glad you like it.” 

The hall was starting to thin out as classes were released and students fled for

home. It reminded Steve that he’d been trying to leave early for once to get JJ and run some last minute errands. Sutton beat him to the punch. 

“I better let you guys get out of here. I’m sure JJ is excited to get some full days with you both.” She gestured to her tote. “And I have a couple more people to catch before they escape. I hope you guys have a very merry Christmas, though! And thank you again.” 

She gave Star another hug and then turned to Steve and faltered. He stiffened as well, the pinch inside him ever more present as the seconds ticked by. 

Colleagues, friends, could hug, right? Was that pushing boundaries too far? 

By the time he’d convinced himself to just do it, Sutton was already stepping backwards. She gave him a small wave instead. 

“I’ll see you guys after the break.” 

“Merry Christmas,” called Star. “If you’re bored or anything you can-” 

Steve shuffled the gifts under one arm and prodded Star towards the doors.

“Merry Christmas,” he called. Star just gave him another of her looks and took JJ’s gift from the pile so it wouldn’t topple over. 

“You’re welcome,” she said, voice flat. Star looked rather proud of herself as she gently tried squishing the present. 

“That was very nice of you. Did you get all your teachers gifts?” Star remained silent a moment, distracted by inspecting the wrapping. 

“No.” Steve hummed. “Is Uncle Tony coming over for Christmas dinner?”

The question came out of nowhere, and Steve was pulled out of his train of thought. 

“What? Oh, yeah. Of course he is. Unless something comes up, I suppose. Why?” 

Star shrugged. 

“Just making sure.” 

Steve wasn’t convinced that was it, but wasn’t about to pry at the moment. Instead he pulled his keys from his pocket and unlocked the car.

“Come on, don’t mess with it too much. You’re going to rip it.” 

“I think this part ‘s a fin.” Star pinched the top of the wrapping between her fingers, and a triangular shape pressed through. “I bet I know what it is.” 

Steve cocked a brow and carefully placed the other gifts in the back of the car, as far from JJ’s car seat as he could. 

“We’ll find out on Christmas, won’t we? Now come on. I still have to pick up a ham before every store is sold out. We can even get stuff to make cookies with.”

Star’s expression brightened at that and Steve smiled. 

He honestly couldn’t wait to spend the holiday with his kids.

[josiewinters1999]

SuperWho x Avengers x OFC in Tribal!AU

Summary: Post Infinity War, the remaining Avengers need a safe place to regroup, what better place to do it than the ancient lost city hidden deep in the Gallifreyan forest?

Chapter 2: Day 1 pt1

Words:  5020

Contains:  Mentions of alcohol/drug abuse, IW spoilers, mentions of death, angst

A/N: So sorry to anyone who was interested in this for being so late. I really have no excuse lol. Anyhow here it is. I’m hoping this chapter gives more insight to the characters backgrounds and prior relationships. Also thank you guys SO MUCH for all the support. I have never got more support for anything I’ve written here. I hope you guys enjoy these and are actually reading them. :)

Laying in his warm bed, Steve stares up at the ceiling. Sunlight begins to pour into the apartment bedroom through the window to Steve’s left. He turns his head to his nightstand, also on his left. The digital clock read that it’s currently 6 am. Typically, Steve would be up already but he’d been staring at the blank beige ceiling for over an hour, deep in thought, or lack thereof, he isn’t sure yet.

Wrapped in the crisp, soft, white, sheets next to him was a snoring body. The figure is sprawled across the remaining space in the bed, still wearing party clothes from the previous night. Her golden blond hair is frizzy and wild not only from sleep but her adventurous night. The red lipstick she wore stained her pillow case, and her eyeliner and mascara run down her face.

Steve looks over to the woman and sighs. How long was she going to do this? It’s no secret his girlfriend has a problem but he always hoped each time would be the last, only to be disappointed when it wasn’t.

Again and again he’d have to drag her out of trouble or bring her home before she got into it. Willie had a wild streak, that was for damn sure, and it only has gotten worse over the course of her and Steve’s relationship.

Glancing back at the ceiling, the super soldier let his mind wander. Images of her before their relationship flood his mind. Every time she entered a room, he’d swoon. Something about that lanky, London accented, time traveling alien held his attention hostage. He practically prayed the woman would just acknowledge his existence.

Then, after a few months of begging every force in the universe, she was suddenly fawning over him. The sudden change was something that should have sent up red flags in Steve’s head. He realizes that now, but at the time, he was in ecstasy. They started dating almost immediately, according to Willie’s wishes.

It all went downhill from there.

Steve’s heart clenches at the thought. Is it him? Is he to blame for Willie’s behavior? The guilt consumes him night and day but that pain is nothing compared to seeing his best gal come home a complete wreck most nights.

A rustle next to him pulls him from his thoughts. He darts his head to see Willie beginning to stir for the first time since she got home. She flips over, facing Steve with closed eyes and tired features.

A moan passes her blurry red lips as the light hits her closed eyelids. She mumbles something intelligible and Steve throws the blankets off him to shut the curtain. After throwing the fabric shut, he looks back to see Willie quiet once more.

He stands at the window for a moment, watching her in her deep sleep. He looks back at the clock, hoping it might tell him what the next thing to do should be. In addition to the time, it reads Wednesday.

Despite her impaired senses, Willie can sense someone is watching her. She slowly and carefully opens her eyes, being cautious of her pounding headache. When they are opened, all she sees is a blurry room and a tall figure by the window. It’s a figure she instantly recognizes and she is at ease.

An urge in her body arises and she lifts herself up to go tend to it. Throwing off the blankets to go to the bathroom, Willie stands. She wobbles for a bit before regaining her balance. A concerned voice behind her calls to her, “Willie,” Steve practically begs.

Anger surges through her in an instant, the hangover taking control, and she clenches one hand, raising the other to stop his speaking. Marching off to the bathroom, she leaves Steve alone.

He sighs, his shoulders sinking with his heart as he stands there in his empty bedroom listening to the movement in the bathroom just on the other side of the door.

He doesn’t move from his spot during the whole sequence, only waits patiently for Willie to finish. The doorknob jiggles and he looks to it instantly. Stepping out, Willie gives him one quick look with her sunken in eyes, and briskly trots out of the room and down the hall to the kitchen.

The super soldier waits a little longer before following her. Upon entering their kitchen, Steve watches with a cautious look as Willie brews a cup of coffee and lights a cigarette. Her hand lowers the zippo lighter back onto the counter and she takes a drag, her shoulders releasing some tension as she exhales the smoke.

Steve takes in a quiet breath to speak but is cut off in an instant, “Don’t.” His girlfriend’s voice was cold and harsh, unlike how her voice was last night. Last night it was hot and fluid, influenced by all the substances she had consumed.

He turns his head down, gritting his teeth. His own anger was growing and his patience was wearing thin. “We’re talking. Whether you want to or not, we’re talking about last night.”

Willie sharply twists her body to lean against the counter, her cigarette still between her thin fingers, “And what exactly is there to talk about? Huh? I went out. So what?” she shrugs, her voice and gaze both weak and full of power at the same time.

“Went out?” Steve repeats, scoffing at the absurdity.

Waving a hand in dismissal, Willie turns back away from him and to her coffee, “I can take care of my damn self, Steve. I don’t need you to babysit me.” Spitting over her shoulder, she adds, “What I do on my own is none of your concern and I suggest you let me do what I do.”

Seeing red, Steve marches closer to her but not quite all the way. “How is none of this my concern?” he shouts. “It was a Tuesday night and you decided it would be a good idea to go get drunk. Again. You’re supposed to be getting better, Willie. It only seems like you’re getting worse.”

Willie bites her lip, secretly knowing Steve is right but not wanting to admit it, in fear he’ll take away her only coping mechanism. “Not only did I have to drag you off the street slobbering drunk and ready to fight, I found something last night,” Steve states matter-of-factly.

“What?” the Gallifreyan asks, already knowing the answer.

Steve raises his voice slightly, “You know what.” He pauses as she shakes her head, “Really? Cocaine. You brought cocaine into our home? You told me you were clean.”

Willie smacks the counter with her free hand, “And I was.” She clenches her fist, trying not to explode, “I was clean.”

With a quiet voice, Steve scoffs, shaking his head, “Why should I believe anything you say? You’ve lied to me about everything. The drinking, the drugs, the cheating, everything. And I forgave you-”

“Don’t you dare get all high and mighty with me, Rogers”

Steve steps forward more, even closer to her but still not all the way, “I forgave you on one condition every time.” His voice turns sad and full of hurt, eyes becoming glassy, “That you tell me why you do all this.” He very slowly reaches his hand forward to touch Willie’s shoulder, “I just want to help you, doll. I hate seeing the woman I love be so hurt. I-”

Willie swiftly and forcefully pushes his hand away, fury in her eyes as she looks him dead in the face for truly the first time that morning, “Why I do anything is none. Of. Your. Damn. Business.”

Shocked, the super soldier watches her as she glares him down. Her own eyes are starting to form tears. The skin around them is both black with makeup and red with sorrow. The sight makes Steve’s heart shatter.

Before any tears fall, Willie storms out of the kitchen and onto the terrace outside their apartment. Steve wants to rush after her but is too paralyzed with emotion to move.

***

Day 1

Steve watches Willie talk, her voice clear and authoritative. Her rosy lips move, a thin layer of sweat forming on her skin. It was glowing and her eyes are bright. Steve is lost, soaking up the view of her like he’s seeing her for the first time and falling in love all over again.

He stands in a circle at the edge of the clearing with Thor, Okoye, and a few Asgardians. All of them listening to Willie’s instructions as she prepares them to collect firewood.

As she speaks, Steve is miles away, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time, “So the main thing you need to do when we go out here is stay quiet and stay hidden. This land isn’t forgiving and you will be killed if the wrong thing spots you.” She looks at every face in the crowd, stopping at Steve’s when she is met with his vacant look.

She lifts her eyebrow, confused, “You alright there, Stevie?”

He shakes his head, bringing himself to reality, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Nodding, she turns back to the others, her eyes being the last thing to leave him, “So is everyone on the same page?” She pauses, watching the people before her mumble affirmatively. “Good,” she responds, “Sam is watching the others, let’s go get some firewood.”

Pushing past them, she marches toward the silver treeline. The others follow her, Steve being the last to join them.

The woods was different than the clearing. The clearing was bright and blaring with sunlight while the forest was dark and a little cooler. However, not even the thick canopy could completely cut through the immense heat of the planet.

The air was more humid though, not as unforgivingly dry as it was in the clearing. That humidity gave way to life. Steve could hear the twittering of birds in the distance and the scuttling of small animals up trees. In addition, the plants at his feet filled his lungs with life. It was hard to concentrate on the task at hand with all this new information around him.

He looks ahead and sees the others gathering small silver logs and large sticks from the ground. Hearing a loud noise above him, Steve looks up instinctively. He sees Willie climbing the trees, picking bulbs off the branches and shoving them into her pockets.

Feeling eyes on her, she looks down to see Steve watching her. She points ahead, indicating he should be searching for tinder. He just stands motionless, unable to move. Sighing to herself, she climbs quickly down to the lowest branch of the tree. Willie then hugs the trunk with all four limbs and slides down it like a firepole.

Reaching the ground with a cloud of red dust flying up, she walks angrily up to Steve. She whispers loudly, “Go get wood.”

He silently nods, not speaking, and goes about the work she assigned him.

***

“Are you sure you can’t come in today?” the voice over the phone calls, “We could use some help training these new recruits.”

Looking over his shoulder to the bathroom door, Steve can hear vomiting and sobs through the wood. “Yeah, I’m sorry. It’s just Willie’s really sick and I want to be here to keep an eye on her.”

Steve hears a sigh over the line, “Sick. Sure.” There’s a long pause and Steve’s stomach twists with anxiety, “Steve, you can’t keep covering for her. Everyone knows she’s pulling you down.”

Muscles clenching, Steve scorns, “You better watch what you say about my girl there. She’s going through a rough time.”

The voice on the phone laughs, “A rough time that’s lasted for the past year.”

The Captain glances back at the door, “We’re working on it.”

“Work on it faster. This is the last time I’m gonna let you do this. Get your woman under control or I’m gonna take this to Director Fury.”

“He’d never get rid of me,” Steve retorts rather cockily.

“Not you, her.” and with that, the phone hangs up, a long tone conveying to Steve that the conversation was over. He slams the headset down, angry at their audacity.

The grunting and sobbing from the bathroom start to slow and quiet. Steve begins to worry and pads his way across the carpet to the bathroom door. He stops at it, listening. The only noise is the running sink. He knocks gently, calling his girlfriend’s name, “Willie? Doll, are you okay?”

She sniffles, calling to him from the floor in front of the toilet. “I’m fine babe,” her voice cracks through the sobs. She was speaking much gentler now.

Steve reaches to the knob and begins to turn it, “I’m coming in.” He pushes the white wood slab open, finding Willie collapsed on the floor, supporting herself on the tub next to the toilet.

“Sweetie,” he sighs. Shutting off the sink, Steve walks up to her, kneeling next to her. He pushes back the hair on her pale forehead and feels her skin with the back of his hand. She was at a normal human temperature, not particularly healthy for something like her.

Willie is too weak to protest Steve’s touches, despite her urge to scream. She allows him to pick her up, something he grunts doing, and carry her to their bed.

He places her upright against the cushions and pillows, sitting comfortably on top of the freshly made bed. He sits at her knees, his warm hand on her arm and his kind eyes staring worriedly at her.

“I wish you’d talk to me. I really do. I don’t want to hurt you, you have to know that by now,” he squeezes her forearm gently, “It’s been a whole year doll. Can’t you tell me anything?”

Willie turns her head from her lap to his eyes, the fire starting to regrow inside her. “You wouldn’t understand,” she spits.

Scooting closer to her, Steve grabs her hand in his other one, “But I want to, doll. Every night, I lay down next to the strongest woman I’ve ever known, just to hear her cry herself to sleep. There’s got to be a reason.”

The tears start falling down Willie’s face again, “What if I told you the reason would make you hate me?” she sobs.

“Honey,” he whines, “nothing you tell me could do that. I love you. Nothing is gonna change that. I promise.”

Instead of a speech, Steve is faced with sobs from his girlfriend, mixed with occasional muttering in her native tongue. Standing up, he walks around the bed to get in with her. She instantly grabs his shirt and buries herself into his shoulder.

***

By the time they got back, tents had been claimed, with the exception of the ones those who were chosen to venture into the woods would be assigned. As the new members of camp unpacked and made their new living spaces home, it was clear this new land was going to take getting used to, just by the looks on the people’s faces.

All the tents were lined up in two rows, each facing each other. This designated the center of camp. Willie had approached it, set down her armful of wood, and watched as her helpers did the same.

The fire had been started soon. It was almost like Steve had blinked and the pile of wood was ablaze. It reminded Steve just how good Willie was in her element. She was a primitive, always was, always will be. The sooner he realizes this the better.

Steve stands at the flame’s edge, staring into its light. With the fire and the suns above, blazing heat surrounded Steve on all sides, making his new long hair suddenly very uncomfortable.

Willie walks up, unbeknownst to him. She shakes some red dust from her hands, wiping them on her tactical pants. Her loud sigh indicates her presence and Steve glances halfway to the side, watching her boots as they make their way next to his. When she finally stops, he goes back to gazing at the fire.

“Suns are going down. High Priestess and her people should be here soon,” she explains in her familiar London accent. She crosses her arms, only about a foot away from Steve as he stands tall and erect.

He nods once, acknowledging her statement. He debates saying something regarding their status but remains deathly silent as she continues, “They’re bringing food and plan to for a couple more nights but we’re going to have to figure something out. The city can’t support this many people on the rations it has. Not forever.”

Steve only grunts, acknowledging her again. “I think we’ll need to set up some hunting and gathering groups and go out into the woods in shifts, but we won’t worry about that tonight. What do you think?”

Feeling rather insolent, he remains completely still and quiet, not even a grunt or nod. She waits patiently however, for his answer. After a long enough pause to indicate he has nothing to say, she turns her body towards him, “Steve.”

He gives no response. “This isn’t a fucking game Steve,” Willie can practically feel her blood pressure rise as she raises a straight hand to point toward one of the lines of tents, “These people will die if they aren’t taken care of and you’re going to stand here and act like a petulant child because we have history.”

Putting her arm down, she steps closer to Steve, lowering her voice just for him to hear over the crackle of the fire, “I know you feel guilty because you let half the universe die, but don’t make the same mistake twice.” And with an angry huff, she marches off.

***

Laying on his chest, Willie soaks up his warmth. Living outside her intended habitat took its toll on her body. The slightly higher body temperature of a human being was the best cure for her lack of two suns.

A protective arm around his best girl, and a hand placed over hers, Steve relishes in the feeling of her scarred skin on his. Her long gold hair splayed across his bed and her legs entwined with his is exactly how Steve wants to die.

Willie rubs Steve’s hand with her thumb, him returning the affection with his own thumb. They sat in silence like this for quite a time, enjoying the feeling of each other despite the looming problems that still need to be addressed.

“Steve?” Willie asks, her voice echoing through Steve’s chest. He hums lightly in response, craning his neck to watch her speak.

“If you could go back home, would you?” she asks, “If you could undo every bad thing that’s ever happened to you and just start over, would you?” Her voice is filled with distress and frustration.

He raises the elbow of the arm behind her head and begins to pet her wavy hair, “Like, go back to the war and not enlist?”

She hums and he sighs, “Of course not.” He feels her body tense as her brows furrow, “But why? Wouldn’t you like to go back and just be at home with all your friends? Don’t you just want to make all your problems disappear?”

Rubbing her arm with his thumb he leans into her, “If I never had enlisted and none of this ever happened, I’d have been some lonely skinny kid in Brooklyn. I probably would have died from TB or of an asthma attack in my studio apartment. I never would have been frozen and,” he places a gentle kiss to her hair before whispering, “I never would have met you, doll. All the trouble and pain in the world would be worth it for my best girl.”

There is a pause and just from the feeling of her stirring on his chest, Steve can tell Willie is trying not to cry. “I know you miss home, Willie. You say you don’t but you aren’t kidding me. Maybe I don’t quite understand how complicated your childhood was but I know just from the way your eyes light up, you miss being there.”

He wraps his free arm around her shoulders, “But no matter happens, I want you to know I’m here, honey. I’m not going anywhere.”

Without another word, Willie stretches up to Steve’s level, kissing him softly and thankfully. When they pull away, he looks into her teary eyes with pure adoration, “I love you.”

***

A few hours pass with Willie marching from tent to tent, checking to make sure everything was in order and answering any questions from her new citizens. Already, Steve can tell she is going to make a better leader than he could have ever imagined. Had someone told him three years ago his drunk girlfriend could do any of this, he would have laughed.

The daylight begins to dim and murmurs of hungry people can be heard from every direction. As Steve walks towards the fire once more to loiter, he hears an Asgardian child chant for his mother.

“Mother,” he calls, “There’s red people in the trees.”

This catches Steve’s attention and before he can even a breath to call for Willie, he sees her dashing past him to greet the said ‘red people’ at the entrance to the clearing.

His curiosity getting the better of him, Steve follows after her at a light jogging pace. Reaching the tree line to the east of camp, he is met by a group of strange looking people that can only be described as Gallifreyan.

Their skin is a medium red tan, like clay. Their hair is dark brown and with some wave in its texture. They wear their hair in varying styles, most of them revolving around braids of some sort. Many of the people, particularly the ones farther back from the front of the group, wear their hair braided tightly against the sides of their heads with the rest on top tied neatly at the back.

The clothing they wear varies as well. Most of their ensembles were simple, long red tunics with lacing down the sides, black and silver designs along the hem, and no shoes. Some wore straight legged pants of the same red color paired with either no shirt or an almost poncho looking drapery on their torsos.

However, the woman at the head of this gathering stands out amongst them. For starters, she is older. Steve wasn’t quite sure how old, but she looks to be in her forties or fifties. Her hair was in an intricate low updo on her back. It lay on her long draping robe with its large open sleeves and many more silver adornments than those of her followers. A long fabric belt cinched the robe at her waist; black with white symbols imbedded into it.

Looking briefly to Willie for comparison, it suddenly is clear to Steve just how much her people look like her. It’s all there in her face. From her narrow eyes, thick brows, long straight nose, and high cheekbones, it’s there. Other than the colors that make up her physique, she blends in perfectly with her native counterparts.

Willie speaks with the woman in  her native tongue, words flying faster than Steve has ever heard her speak in his life. Typically, when she speaks, her words come out at a leisurely pace, slow and thought out. Watching her speak with this native practically makes Steve’s head spin.

It isn’t until Steve looks back to the woman that he realizes that everyone there has their eyes plastered to him. The woman, Willie, and the congregation in the woods all stare at him. Some of their looks are of confusion, but others are full of awe.

The woman, with her red hands folded neatly inside her sleeves, turns to Willie with a smile, muttering something to her while looking out the corner of her eye to Steve. After she finishes with Willie, she turns back to Steve and begins talking to him.

Not being able to comprehend a single word, Steve’s eyes widen ever so slightly in panic as he looks frantically to Willie for answers. Rubbing her face with her hand, she sighs, “She’s asking your name. Just point to yourself and say it, no need to confuse her.”

Doing what he’s told, Steve gestures to himself with both hands, “Steve Rogers.” The second he utters his name, the crowd gasps lightly, whispers doing their best to repeat it.

The woman grins brighter, looking to Willie once more before saying something. Steve stutters, “Wh-what’s she saying?” his insecurities he thought he left in the 40s coming back.

Remaining eye contact with the woman as she keeps speaking, Willie translates, “She’s saying that she’s never seen a man with white skin before,” there is a small pause as the woman speaks, “that you look like me,” another pause, “and that she didn’t know humans would be so intriguing.”

Steve furrows his brow, “What’s that supposed to mean?” Rolling her eyes, Willie pushes Steve back, “I have no clue Steve, I was just repeating. Now get out of the way, The High Priestess doesn’t have all night.”

Backing him up against a tree, Willie rushes back to the woman, leading her by the arm into the camp. Her followers go after her, passing Steve on the way. They give him many looks as they walk past, each of them carrying enough food for ten people.

He manages to step away and meet everyone else in camp as they watch the Gallifreyans walk to the fire. A crowd has formed to watch the natives as they walk in, following Willie’s lead. The man Willie had come with, Sam Winchester, runs to meet them. From a distance, Steve can see them exchange words and Sam bends his top half slightly forward in a bow to the High Priestess. She nods her head with a smile and Willie cups her hands around her mouth to scream.

“Alright everyone,” she shouts, “This is how this is gonna work.” Grabbing Sam by the shoulders, she guides him in front of one of the Gallifreyans with food. A man wearing a red triangular poncho with black embellishments and fringe paired with red pants made of a similar material to buckskin stands ahead of him. The man holds a silver wooden bowl filled with some type of food.

Staring at Sam’s large build with awe, his mouth gapes open. Willie opens up to the crowd, showing Sam off, “You’re gonna get in a line. Then, when it’s your turn, you’re gonna walk up like this,” she pushes Sam a little closer, “and say these words, ‘G’dyejnah moschash.’” There is a small pause as she makes sure that the information is received before she continues, “‘G’dyejnah moschash.’ After you say that, you’re gonna bow.” She looks to Sam, who stands uncomfortably still. Willie reaches forward and smacks his arm, urging him to do as she said.

Mumbling the words Willie had instructed, he once again bends his front half forward slightly. The man with the bowl smiles, muttering the words back and hands Sam a piece from the contents of the container in his arm.

Willie drags Sam to the side and replaces him, “Line starts here.”

In that instant, Steve is swarmed by the hungry crowd rushing to get in line. When he fully comprehends what is going on, he follows in line with them, standing about three people behind Tony Stark.

The line slowly creeps forward, the setting suns making the heat slightly less intense. Looking down, Steve sees that every person standing in the line with them is covered in red dust from the knee down. Peering around the line, he can see Willie at the front. She herself is coated from the waist down, completely submerged in her home, both figuratively and literally.

Once at the front, Steve walks up to a young woman with her own bowl, the High Priestess and Willie watching intently just off her shoulder. He nervously steps up, catching a side glance at Willie. She stands erect, arms folded behind her back; a sharp contrast to the High Priestess, with her arms folded in front.

He takes another cautious step, the woman smiling lightly while she clutches her silver bowl. Doing his best to recall the proper words, he stutters, “G-g’degnuh moe-shush.” He stands still for a moment before bowing suddenly, almost forgetting to do so. The young woman smiles and hands him something. He walks away, going to join the congregation forming at the fire.

Steve looks down at the item in his hands. It was a golden colored bread wrap of sorts, and upon further inspection, it seems to contain a thin sliver of meat and a collection of red leaves within it. It seems strange but the rumble in Steve’s stomach told him not to question it.

He begins making his way to the fire to sit, being met with Bruce Banner wave a hand to him and shouting his name, “Steve, come sit with us!” Not wanting to decline the offer and seem, he walks to Bruce. He sits with Thor, Tony, Pepper, and Natasha.

“Pop a squat with me big fella,” Natasha says syly. Steve forces a grin and sits cross legged in the dust beside her. “Rough night, huh?” she chuckles.

“The first of many I’m afraid,” Thor answers, holding his half eaten bread wrap. Tony groans, “If this gets any worse, I’m gonna say something to Willie. I mean, what is she doing having us out here in tents?”

“She’s doing her best, Tony, let her be,” defends Steve.

The billionaire scoffs, “That’s rich coming from you, Rogers. You’d stick your neck out for that drunk if it was the last thing you did. Just because she’s your girlfriend doesn’t mean-”

Steve interrupts him, his voice blank and devoid of all emotion, “We aren’t together anymore.”

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S A V I O R (B. Barnes x Reader)

Word count: 2688

Warnings: Kissing, some Russian and this is shit, but whatever.

Longing, Rusted, Seventeen, Daybreak, Furnace, Nine, Benign, Homecoming, One, Freight car Тоска, проржавевший, семнадцать, Рассвет, печи, девять, доброкачественная, встреча выпускников/��орпоративы, один, грузовых автомобилей

My hands sting and I can already feel the bruises beginning to form. I sit to catch my breath, in the deafening silence I hear a drop of my blood hit the scuffed wooden floor.

Looking back, not wrapping my hands was a bad idea.

I get onto my feet and hook another bag up. This time, being careful to wash and wrap my hands. Letting out years of pent up anger felt good after a long day of dealing with idiotic people.

“You should probably take care of that first.” Steve comments just as I knock the bag off its chain, accidentally spilling sand across the floor. “If it isn’t the star-spangled man with a plan, why are you here? What do you want?” “I don’t want anything -” he says obviously finding humour in his joke. My patience is running thin and I shoot him a glare. He clears his throat, regaining his composure. “Fury wanted to see you.” “Fury? Nick Fury, the one that relieved me of my title as field agent?-” Steve tries to cut me off “-All because yours truly made one little mistake-” “You almost got us killed.” He cuts in “But I didn’t! I came in and saved your ass, again!” “You wouldn’t have had to save us if you stuck to the orders!” “It was my brother! What would you have done! I fixed my mistake, but Fury didn’t give me my second chance, why should I give him his?” “Y/N I-” he sighs “I need your help.” I shoot him a questioning look. “My silence is your cue.” “Do you remember Bucky?” “Bucky. Barnes?…The Winter Soldier? Yeah, why?” “S.H.E.I.L.D wants to recruit him” “Why? He tried to kill us. You were his mission-” “I was his friend.” “Steve, Bucky was your friend, the Winter Soldier, he’s your enemy. You can’t save him. He’s long gone. And he tried to kill us.” “He remembers.” Steve argues “H-he’s still the Bucky I used to know, deep down.” He clears his throat again. “Fury said that if you brought him back successfully-and alive- he’ll give you your job back.” “Fine, but I’m doing this for me, and only me, not for you or your issues with your broken boyfriend.” Steve barely contained his excitement as we walk to the jet waiting outside. After a short flight to Stark tower and many questioning glances, we’re sat around a table discussing the terms of the mission.

“There are tracking devices in all the weapons in case you decide to go rogue.” “Stark, I take my job very seriously.” “Don’t flatter yourself, it’s just a precaution.” I glance over the weapons layed out in front on me and pick a few, stuffing them in my duffle bag. I pause when I see an unfamiliar weapon. “Hey, Stark, what’s this?” “Turn it away from you, press the green button, it vaporizes whatever its aimed at.” He demonstrated on a vase sitting on the table and it turned to a pile of ash. “Woah. That’s awesome!” “Thank you.” “Tony, if only you were as big as your ego, maybe you’d be able to reach the top shelf.” Although he was a few inches taller than me I still liked to tease him about his height compared to the others.

I sat back down looking over the Winter Soldier’s case file once again, taking in all the details, adding them to what I already know. In his military picture he looks young, determined, sweet, definitely handsome, probably a ladies man with his hair neatly cut and gelled. In the other two he looked different. There’s one of him in cryo. Even in his frozen state you can still make out the crease in his brow, he looks like he’s… in pain. The one of him in action, a majority of his face is covered by a black mask, his hair long and messy. His metal arm stood out against his black uniform. The vibranium caught the sun and made the red star stand out even more. The way I recognized him best, as the Winter Soldier.

“Y/N!” “What?” I say snapping out of my stupor

“You spaced out, it’s time for us to leave, you’re headed to Shelbyville, Indiana, that’s where the target was seen last.”

“He’s not a target.” Steve yelled from down the hall, slamming the door.

“Actually, Sam? Wilson, right? Alright bird-boy. I say we head to Washington. I was thinking metal-man grew up in Indiana, maybe he went looking for answers he couldn’t find. If you’re a fossil who doesn’t know how to properly use a computer, where would you go to search for the past?”

“The Smithsonian.” Bruce chimed in when we walked past him lab. I shot him a smile, seeing as he was the only one who sided with me when I almost got them killed, he’s one of my favorites. Him and Natasha that is. Agent Romanoff was always one of my favourites. “Exactly, there’s a big plaque dedicated to Barnes there. I say we check it out. I don’t think Barnes would stay in one place too long, he knows he’s wanted.” “You really think he’s there?” “Wilson, I’m a spy, its my job to know where people are.” I send over my shoulder on my way into the quinjet. I’m met with a light chuckle from Mr. Patriotism himself. “What’re you laughing at?” “You know, you’re quite funny, agent Y/L/N.” I’m slightly startled by the title, not being used to it anymore. Does he just have that much faith that I’ll succeed? Although, I’ve only failed one or two missions. “Alright Rogers, we’ve got three hours on the jet, try to behave.”

Three hours later I’m dropped off at one of Stark’s safe houses a few blocks from the Smithsonian. “Call when you’ve got him, we’ll send a jet. And Y/N, please, don’t hurt him unless you absolutely need to.” A quick nod and a small smile from the Captain is my parting, from here I’m on my own. I head into the small rundown house, it’s bigger on the inside, cleaner and brighter too. There’s a bed to one side and a bathroom on the other.

“There’s no place like home.”

I drop my duffle and slip a gun into the waistband of my pants. I also grab a knife and slip it into the holster in my jacket, you can’t be too careful.

I decide to take the small ‘getaway’ car in the garage. Its not as great as Steve’s bug though.

The first few days go by with no sign of the infamous soldier. I’m caught off guard to finally see the one and only sporting a baseball cap, jeans and a sweatshirt. He has gloves on too, it seems. Its not too cold, it’s only late October, he’s most likely trying to hide the metal that could set civilians into a panic and most certainly give him away. He’s standing near the plaque dedicated to the one James Barnes of the 107th.

I stand and observe him for a little while. He reads the words over and over again. Its a good ten minutes before I finally walk over, careful not to startle him. I stand next to him and read the plaque for myself. “Bucky seems like he was a great person, definitely someone you’d want to befriend.” He seems caught off guard by my words and he takes a second to comprehend my sentence. “Yeah I bet he was a great person.” He says. “Was.” He says. I don’t comment on it because I know I wasn’t supposed to hear it. After another few minutes of silence I start again.

“You know, Steve really misses you.” His head shoots up and his eyes are dark and guarded. He recognized the name.

“He remembers.” Steve’s words play over in my head.

“Who sent you?” He questions obviously ready for a fight. “S.H.E.I.L.D.” the look on his face tells me he doesn’t believe me. “They want to recruit you.” No response. “Bucky-” recognition crosses his features, but is gone almost immediately and his eyes soften, barely. He looked like he was thinking hard, remembering. “-Steve wants you back, he wants you to remember and I can help.” I show him my S.H.E.I.L.D badge for proof “Okay.” “Let’s go because that guard hasn’t stopped watching you since you came in.” We head towards the street making our way to my car. A tall man blocks our way. I pull out a gun and shoot. I clip his shoulder and he gets my leg, I collapse, but shoot again, this time its a head shot. The car’s gone and I can’t walk. “How’d you get those through security?” “Same way you got your arm through. Can you carry me, I can’t walk.” He picks me up as if I weighed nothing while I made a makeshift tourniquet. I call Steve and then Romanoff and Banner, but none of them answer. He sets me down in a chair when we reach the safe house. “Well, Earth’s mightiest heroes aren’t answering, I guess we’ll spend the night here. I’ll take first watch. You rest.” He hesitates, obviously not trusting me. “If Steve trusts me, you can too. I promise.” He gets up and heads towards the bathroom. I hear the water start to run. I decide to make something light to eat for us, assuming he hasn’t had much lately. I hear the door click open. “Hey, I made us dinner-” he standing in the doorway with only a towel wrapped around his waist. “I uhm, left my clothes.” I hand him his clothes and try to keep my gaze from wandering. The door clicks shut again and I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding in. I sit on the bed and begin eating my sandwich. Bucky comes out, fully clothed with his hair neatly combed. I hand him his plate. “You know, if there’s anything you want to know about yourself, I could try to answer, the basics at least. You’ll have to ask Rogers on the rest.” “You know, that wasn’t me. None of it was me, I killed… So many people b-but, it wasn’t me.” “I know Bucky.” I say taking his plate as he lays down.

He tosses and turns for hours. And when his breathing finally evens out I’m relieved to know he’s at least resting. I know what torture can do to a person. He sleeps for about an hour before he wakes up, immediately on guard. He wraps his metal hand around my throat “Кто тебя послал?” Who sent you? I’ve never been caught like this before, I could get out easily, but that would only make him more nervous, “Bucky.” I choke out. “Its me, no one sent me.” His eyes soften and he drops me. “I’m so sorry.” He says softly, glancing at the forming bruises. “Its okay, I have them too, you know.” He looks surprised, “You do?” “Mm.” He looks at me for another second before going and sitting on the bed. He mutters quietly in Russian, but I can’t make out the words. I sidestep my bag and go to the sink. “Drink.” I say handing him the glass. “What were you just mumbling?” “Пытки равна прочности.” “Torture equals strength.” We say together. “ It was written on every surface back at Hydra.” I sit on the bed next to him, a bit closer than necessary. “Все это будет нормально.” It’ll all be okay He looks up at me and for the first time I see the ghost of a smile grace his features. My phone rings interrupting our conversation. “I’m sorry, we had a mission, I’ll come out to pick you up now.”

Thanks Clint, see you soon.“

"Katniss will be here soon, just throw your stuff in my duffle, I got it.” He does as he’s told, obviously confused, and goes back to his spot on the bed. It kind of set me off that he was trusting me. I knew well enough that it was an act. That he would try something. It was almost too easy.

×××

Bucky became my new partner on all my missions and he’s remembering more and more. With the help of Steve of course. Its been about 2 years. I’ll fill you in on the details.

I was right, when Clint came, Bucky tried to escape. To kill us. He didn’t succeed. He was locked up for a while, with only minimal visits from me or from Steve. Steve helped him to remember, I was like a therapist. Maybe it was because I didn’t remind him, maybe because I was, in a sense, a stranger, but nevertheless, we grew closer. Eventually, I got Fury to agree to let Barnes roam, with me as an escort. Once he was stable enough, he began training, which, in my opinion, he didn’t need. And then he was recruited.

“Hey, Buck, we gotta go, we’re on our way to Vegas, remember?” Finally, a mission in a nice place. We drop down and check into a nice hotel, that’s a new one. There’s a Hydra base under one of the abandoned casinos in town and its our job to take it down.

×××

“Hey Buck, we’re in Vegas, we should do something fun.” I say as we walk away from the burning building, cliché am I right?

“Why don’t we go back to the hotel and order room service? Watch a few movies, I’m still not caught up with the 21st century.” I laugh and nod my head in agreement. I collapse on the bed and bury my face in the pillow. “Are you tired, Мой ангел?” I feel a rush of warmth at the name. Did he just call me his angel? “No, just getting comfy.” I reply, my voice muffled my the pillow. “I can make you comfy.” He says climbing in beside me and pulling me to him. He trails kisses up my neck to my jaw. I turn over to face him and give him a puzzled look. I’m not denying my feelings, everyone knew they were there, we’ve just never… confronted it, or even talked about it. And he’s never this carefree.

He smiles and captures my lips with his, a soft, yet hungry kiss, like he’d been waiting to do it. He wanted me just as badly as I wanted him. I wrapped my legs around his waist and he instinctively put his hands on either side of my head to hold himself up. I tuck my hand up under his shirt and he pulls away only long enough my me to slip his shirt off and throw it across the room. I trace the skin where the metal meets, its still red, but not as bad as when I caught him watching his own reflection. As if he were a monster, a few weeks after I brought him to S.H.E.I.L.D. he slipped my shirt up over my head and trailed kisses down my neck, to my chest and onto my stomach, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He brings his mouth back up to mine and his tongue skims my bottom lip. The moment ends when my phone rings insanely loudly. Bucky curses under his breath. “What?” I snap at the person on the other line. “Did I interrupt?” Comes the snarky voice of Tony on the other end. “Why are you calling, Stark?” “I sent Natasha to come get you guys, she’ll be there in a few hours.” I end the call without a goodbye and look to the soldier piercing me with his blue eyes. “I’m sorry.” He just chuckles and places a light kiss to my forehead. “We’d better get dressed.” He muses a playful smirk on his face. “To be continued, Кукла.”

Doll.

[universalfanfic]

Ok, well hopefully @inkoutsidethelines​ doesn’t mind me borrowing her oc Star again. I was just in the Christmas spirit and want to write some oc crossovers. :) 

Christmas was always a busy time. There were tests to grade, excited students to keep in line, and shopping to fit in before the break. Sutton saw the restless foot tapping and darting eyes of her class. She felt it too. The students weren’t the only ones ready for the time off.

Sutton rapped a stack of papers on her desk and cleared her throat, making sure the students were paying attention before bothering to speak.

“Alright, I know we’re at the end of our day. My gift to you is you’re free to go early if you want. Have a good holiday everyone.”

The room cleared in record time with little more than a few scattered pieces of paper as evidence that kids had been there. Sutton sighed in relief as the freedom of break settled in.

Glorious.

Shoving some curriculum notes into her bag, she hurried to head out before the other staff could disappear without saying goodbye. She had a separate tote purely for all the last minute gifts she was determined to hand out and she didn’t want it full on her way home.

Tony was first on her list purely because he practically sprinted to the doors while pushing through students to get to the holiday break first. He’d also been mentioning having a gift for Pepper Potts, so he was probably doubly determined.

Sutton half jogged down the hall and more students were flooding out and heading in the opposite direction. As she predicted, Tony already had his laptop slung over one shoulder and shades halfway on when she reached him.

“Wait, Tony!”

Falling in step beside him, she dug through her tote for his gift.

“Hey, Sutton. Merry Christmas. “Yeah, Merry Christmas.”

Finally, she saw the red and gold wrapped boxes and yanked them out with a triumphant cry.

“I wanted to catch you and give you this before you left.”

“Aw man, you didn’t have to do that.”

Sutton shrugged and grinned as she passed the box over.

“It’s fine, I like doing it. It’s not for the entire school anyway; you’re in an elite club.”

“Well I’m honored.” He grinned and shook one box. “Any cookies in here?” “You know there are.” Tony’s grin widened.

They walked down the hall together and chatted about holiday plans as they made their way to the front of the school. Tony ripped open the inedible portion of his gift before even reaching the parking lot because his patience was just that threadbare. She’d gotten him a small bluetooth speaker that he could use when he was working on cars or in his garage. He at least appeared to like it, and Tony wasn’t one to sugarcoat too many things, so she trusted that she’d picked well.

Both of them were laughing as they reached the front doors and idled. Tony had the grand plan of wooing Pepper with a velveteen rabbit, given it was supposedly a favorite childhood story of hers, and then perhaps dinner if that gift was well received. The image of him standing and cradling a stuffed bunny while Pepper stared at him with that flustered look she had was too priceless.

“This plan may just work,” Sutton encouraged him. “It’s the holidays, right? It’s supposed to be a magical time of year.” Tony huffed and mussed up her hair.

“You’re a pretty mediocre wingman, you know?”

“Tony.”

Two heads of blond hair caught her attention, and Sutton instantly diverted. She gave Tony a quick wave and moved down the hall to intercept the pair.

“I’ll see you, Tony. Have a great holiday!” “You too.”

He watched her leave with a half smile on his face. Steve looked a bit stiff when there was no reason for it. Their eyes met and he gave him a wink and a grin, eyes drifting back to Sutton for a moment. Steve’s expression hardly flickered.

“Yeesh,” Tony lamented under his breath. “Half Pint has her work cut out for her. Aw well.” He clapped his hands together.  “It’s Pepper time.”

[]

Sutton and Tony were laughing together again and Steve felt something inside him prickle with unease. Not that he really cared, of course. It wasn’t his business. They looked like they enjoyed each other’s company and that was a good thing. Tony was a good friend and Sutton was a sweet woman. They’d probably work well together. He stamped down on any unnecessary twinge that thought caused.

Her smile grew as she neared them and Steve couldn’t help mimicking it slightly. An elbow jabbed his ribs.

“She gave Uncle Tony a present,” Star whispered. Steve cut his eyes down to his daughter and his smiled tightened.

“I can see that.”

Sutton reached them before Star could say anything else. He still wasn’t sure what had gotten into his daughter lately, but she seemed a bit better behaved when Sutton came by. Whether it was due to an audience or because she wanted her teacher to like her, he didn’t know.

“Hey, Merry Christmas guys.” Sutton tucked a curl behind her ear and straightened out her tote bag with a small wave. “I’m glad I caught you before you left, I had a couple things for you.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to-”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted cheerfully. “Like I told Tony, I don’t do this for the entire staff. Just a select few.”

“Really?” Star tried to peer into Sutton’s tote and see the gifts inside.

“Ok, you can’t the other students I’m playing favorites.”

She pulled out three wrapped gifts and offered them up. Steve blinked and rubbed at his neck before accepting them.

“You really didn’t have to,” he insisted. The tags labeled the gifts for him and both his kids. That prickle inside him tightened to a pinch and he took a deep breath. “Thank you,” he rephrased. “This was very thoughtful.”

“You got me and JJ something!” Star’s tone was lilting and her eyes shining. The season was always a bit difficult without their mother, but Star had a persistent spirit and she was more than eager to dive into traditions and decorating. And stockpiling gifts under the tree.

Star moved in for a hug and Sutton returned the affection with an ease and care that many teachers never showed. Steve knew Star was close to Sutton as her teacher, of course, but it hadn’t quite occurred to him just how much. It didn’t seem like Sutton was faking affection either.

“It’s not a lot,” Sutton explained, one arm still around Star’s shoulder. “I just saw a couple small things that reminded me of all of you. Careful with JJ’s, I’ve almost ripped it a couple times now.”

The package was slightly larger than a football, and whatever was inside was obviously soft by the way the paper crinkled and shifted when gripped.

“I couldn’t find a box for it,” she confessed.

“If he doesn’t rip it open before Christmas, it’ll be a miracle,” Steve said with a smile. His gaze drifted down and his smile faltered slightly. “I didn’t know you were going to do this or I would-”

“We got you something too,” Star cut in. She was still hugging Sutton, but pulled away to reach into her backpack and pull out a gift of her own. It was wrapped with careful precision, sporting sharp corners, but was tapped within an inch of its life. Star cast a look up at him before passing the package over.

“It’s not much either,” she said. “But I- er- we hope you like it.”

Steve almost insisted that he had no previous knowledge of the gift and therefore couldn’t take credit, but Star shot him another look and he decided against it. He was doing what he could to not set her off unnecessarily and it wasn’t worth another argument right before Christmas.

Besides, Sutton looked so delighted to have received something from them in return, he couldn’t quite make himself admit it.

“Thank you! I’m sure I’m going to love it.”

“You can open it now, if you want.”

Sutton looked up to Steve, as if asking if he agreed, and Steve nodded.

“I don’t mind.”

“Well, alright.”

The paper was ripped away to reveal a picture frame underneath. It was a cheap, black frame, and he actually remembered Star buying it the week before with some allowance money when they went shopping for JJ. He couldn’t see what was in the frame since Sutton was studying whatever it was.

Her face softened, the expression of joy tampered down from something a bit showy to an expression more quietly sincere. Star peered over Sutton’s shoulder to look at the frame herself, smile wide. Steve was curious to see what it was.

“Do you like it?”

“Star, I love it. I’ll hang this up the minute I can actually find a hammer. Aw, look at you. You look so pretty.”

“I think everyone looks pretty good,” Star said, an odd inflection to her voice. Sutton’s eyes trailed over what was obviously a photograph and she paused. The pause was momentary, then Sutton cleared her throat and the cheerful smile was back full force.

“I agree.”

Finally, she flipped the frame around and looked at Steve.

“Thank you. This is so sweet. I love collecting little memories like this.”

It was a picture from Halloween. Star had insisted they get a group shot, and a neighbor had been kind enough to take a few for them. They were all huddled together in this picture. He’d crouched down with JJ to a bit to be closer to Sutton and Star’s height, and JJ was in the middle of reaching for one of Sutton’s antenna while she gave Star bunny ears.

He wasn’t entirely sure when Star had been able to print off the picture, but he still tried to play it off.

“You’re welcome. Glad you like it.”

The hall was starting to thin out as classes were released and students fled for home. It reminded Steve that he’d been trying to leave early for once to get JJ and run some last minute errands. Sutton beat him to the punch.

“I better let you guys get out of here. I’m sure JJ is excited to get some full days with yo u both.” She gestured to her tote. “And I have a couple more people to catch before they escape. I hope you guys have a very merry Christmas, though! And thank you again.”

She gave Star another hug and then turned to Steve and faltered. He stiffened as well, the pinch inside him ever more present as the seconds ticked by.

Colleagues, friends, could hug, right? Was that pushing boundaries too far?

By the time he’d convinced himself to just do it, Sutton was already stepping backwards. She gave him a small wave instead.

“I’ll see you guys after the break.”

“Merry Christmas,” called Star. “If you’re bored or anything you can-”

Steve shuffled the gifts under one arm and prodded Star towards the doors.

“Merry Christmas,” he called. Star just gave him another of her looks and took JJ’s gift from the pile so it wouldn’t topple over.

“You’re welcome,” she said, voice flat. Star looked rather proud of herself as she gently tried squishing the present.

“That was very nice of you. Did you get all your teachers gifts?” Star remained silent a moment, distracted by inspecting the wrapping.

“No.” Steve hummed. “Is Uncle Tony coming over for Christmas dinner?”

The question came out of nowhere, and Steve was pulled out of his train of thought.

“What? Oh, yeah. Of course he is. Unless something comes up, I suppose. Why?”

Star shrugged.

“Just making sure.”

Steve wasn’t convinced that was it, but wasn’t about to pry at the moment. Instead he pulled his keys from his pocket and unlocked the car.

“Come on, don’t mess with it too much. You’re going to rip it.”

“I think this part ‘s a fin.” Star pinched the top of the wrapping between her fingers, and a triangular shape pressed through. “I bet I know what it is.”

Steve cocked a brow and carefully placed the other gifts in the back of the car, as far from JJ’s car seat as he could.

“We’ll find out on Christmas, won’t we? Now come on. I still have to pick up a ham before every store is sold out. We can even get stuff to make cookies with.”

Star’s expression brightened at that and Steve smiled.

He honestly couldn’t wait to spend the holiday with his kids.