#Clint is done with this shit

[darthbloodorange]

Thirst Trap Steve

Rating: Teens Universe: Marvel Cinematic Universe Pairings: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Clint Barton Warnings: None Major Tags: Humour, Social Media, Steve Rogers Being a Little Shit, Bucky Barnes is an enabler, Clint Barton is So Done Word count: 100 - Drabble

Summery: Clint wished he just minded his own business and just got his coffee.

For the: ✦ Stucky Bingo - Social Media [G2] (Card: 5054)

Read below or on AO3 >HERE<

Clint walked into the main lounge of the compound, empty mug in hand. He stops on his way to the kitchenette and does a double take at what is happening across the room.

Steve had apparently decided to do his gym exercises here... with far less clothes. Shirtless, Steve bent and flexed, arching across the mat. Bucky stood by, recording. 

"What's this?" he asks hesitantly. Did he really want to know?

Bucky grinned. "Shooting stuff for Steve's socials. Stark said he should be more active publicly online."

"Doubt he meant this."

"Should've been clearer, then," Bucky says with a wink.

THE END

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

Hospital Flowers

Aurelia is an oc of mine that will be seen everywhere throughout different universes. Her last name will constantly change, but the character remains the same. Its easier for me to remember one character name than 20+.

TW: BLOOD, CAR ACCIDENT, ANGST (maybe???)

Nobody could've seen it coming. 

Aurelia was driving to the apartment she owned with Steve when it happened.

She had stopped by the tower to drop off a couple gifts for Natasha and Wanda, her chosen bridesmaids, on the way home from a meeting with the venue coordinator in Central Park.

The wedding wouldn't be for another year, but their venue needed to be secured several months in advance, just to ensure they'd have it for their set date. Though it was well known that an avengers wedding took precedence.

"I'll call you when I get home." She promised Nat, a playful grin on her face. It was the same one she always had when she was with her best friends. 

"We'll be making sure you get home." Wanda reminded Aurelia, hugging her tightly. 

Aurelia laughed. "I know. . . But I have to go now, Steve's cooking tonight and I promised I'd be home by seven."

"Fine, we'll talk to you later."

Natasha and Wanda finally let her walk out the door, watching as she got into her car. 

She pulled off into Park Avenue traffic and grabbed her phone from her passenger seat, dialing Steve's number. It rang three times before his voice filled the inside of her car. 

"Hey, Sweetheart." 

"Hey, you. How was your day?" Aurelia questioned.

"It was good, yeah, Buck and I went to the farmers market up the street and he spent most of his pocket money on homemade candles." The smile in his voice was evident as Aurelia laughed softly. 

"How many did he get?"

"Five, one of each scent they had available." 

"I don't blame him," Aurelia admitted. "Candles liven up the space, you know?"

"Yeah they do. So, how was your day?" Steve questioned. 

Aurelia heard shuffling on the other end and the familiar sound of their dogs leash being taken off of the hook. 

"It was good. I met with Danielle, our venue coordinator, and she ensured we would have the venue completely booked for ourselves, October 31st of next year. Once the meeting was over, I stopped by the tower to give something to my loyal bridesmaids and to say hi to everyone. . . I actually called to let you know I'd be home in just about an hour, maybe less."

"Alright, well I have to go make sure dinner doesn't burn. . . Be safe, Sweetheart. I love you."

"I will. I love you too, Captain. See you soon." The call ended and she was plunged into silence. 

She drove along in silence, taking her usual route to the Brooklyn Bridge. 

Aurelia was crossing the intersection at Bowery and East Houston Street when it happened. 

A van ran the red light and full on collided with the passenger side. She couldn't react fast enough. The force of the van flipped the car twice and pushed her into oncoming traffic where she was hit again.

Glass was surrounding her, blood oozing from cuts on her face, neck, chest, and arms where glass had scraped her or forcefully entered her body from impact. Her ears were ringing from her head hitting the window moments before it shattered.

She felt like she was under water and couldn't breathe. Everything was blurry. She couldn't move. Everything hurt. It was far beyond any pain she had experienced in her past six years as an avenger. 

Then the world went silent just as the sound of distant sirens met her ears and her blood ran cold. The lights seemed to turn off. Nobody was home. 

Natasha burst into the two bedroom apartment in Brooklyn. The red rimmed eyes and the look on her face was enough to pause any potential lecture from Steve on the art of privacy. 

"Steve, you need to come with me right now." She said firmly. 

"We're waiting on Aurelia, I can't leave. She's supposed to be here any minute." 

"Steve. . . She's not coming. You need to come with me, and I'll tell you everything I know. . . You come too Barnes."

Both men looked at the cooling lasagna on the stove before grabbing their coats off the hook by the door. 

Natasha led them to the roof, where a quinjet was waiting for them. "Go, hurry." She told Clint the moment the ramp was closed behind them. 

"What happened?" Steve questioned, taking the empty seat beside Wanda. She had her head resting on Sam's shoulder, it was an unlikely sight. 

"There was an accident. . . Aurelia was in an accident. Friday alerted us at the tower as soon as she detected the first collision. . . Tony got down there just in time for the police and EMTs to arrive. He called and told us to get to you."

"Does May know?" Bucky questioned, sitting down in disbelief. 

"I don't know, maybe? If Tony hasn't called her yet, I bet he will." Natasha responded. 

"Is Aurelia going to be okay?" Steve asked, trying to hide his feelings behind the Captain. Unfortunately for him, Natasha could see right through him.

"I don't know. . ." She answered honestly. "She has to be okay, I mean, you're supposed to get married next year." 

"Yeah. . ." Steve trailed off, pacing at the back of the jet. 

When the jet landed in a park near the hospital, they saw two ambulances with flashing lights and sirens speeding to the hospital. 

The first one pulled in and before it could even come to a full stop, the doors were being swung open and a flurry of activity began. 

Tony jumped out behind the medics and wiped his face. 

The moment Steve saw him, he ran across the street ignoring Sam, Bucky, and Natasha calling out to him. 

"Where is she? Where are they taking her?" 

"Rogers, you need to listen to me."

"No, I need to see Aurelia. . . I need to know she's okay." Steve pushed past Tony but didn't get too far before his arm was grabbed. 

It was too late, though. He had already seen her and the several bandages littering her body. 

"They need to do some scans. . . Clearly something is wrong, her heart stopped beating twice on the way over here. . . They're taking her up for emergency surgery right now." 

"How are you so calm about this?"

"Steve—"

"No — Stark, how are you so calm about all of this? She almost died twice and you're acting like it's a normal day!"

"That's my daughter in there! My sweet baby girl is fighting for her life! Her life means more to me than my own, but forgive me for not wanting to cause a scene! You may be her fiancé, but I'm her dad. . . You could never love my daughter as much as I do, even if you fucking tried."

The two stared each other in the eyes, finally realizing how bad both of them looked. 

Steve was holding back tears, thinking he needed to be strong for everyone. 

Tony looked tired and worn out, but just like Natasha, his eyes were rimmed red and his face was puffy. 

Steve deflated, losing his defensive posture. He backed off and entered the hospital, soon followed by the few avengers that had time to be there for hours. 

Bruce called every hour, with no updates. He finally went to bed at midnight. 

Tony called May and she promised to come by in the morning with Peter. 

After eight hours, the only thing they knew was that Aurelia was out of surgery and should wake up soon.

Part 2

[woulddieforloki]

brb thinking about how weird Thor is to the Avengers. like he's a god, and then ofc he's their friend but also??? he's a god??? and they all get along really great in The Avengers (after they sort their shit out ofc) but then Thor just. disappears. and the Avengers are fine with that because he's a god and he has other places to be and this was just a one-time thing and how cool is it to say they got to fight a battle with a god? it's a memory they're cherish forev--is that Thor in London? 🤨 and then he comes back again to find Loki's scepter and they're like "yeah, this is just another mission for him, that's it," but then they all start to like Thor and Thor starts to like them and it's such a great friendship! and then they find the scepter and he peaces the fuck out again. maybe it wasn't such a great friendship. but that's okay. he's a god. he has other places to be right now. he was just trying to find the scepter, and now that that's done, he doesn't need to be here. they were just work friends and that's fine. it's disappointing that they're never gonna see him again--what the fuck is that crash-landing into the Wakandan battlefield? hot diggity dog, it's static electricity man himself. like the other five Avengers are all friends and they're all humans and they all pretty much know how to find each other if they need them and then there's fucking Thor who always just kinda appears when he needs their help and then he disappears again for years on end and there's always that slight chance he'll come back again but also not really (but also he might?)

[saunteringvaguelydownwards]

Yelena hearing Natasha tell her not to spike the engine, looking at Natasha with love and regret and then doing what she has to do.

Natasha seeing Taskmaster approaching fast, looking at Yelena with love and regret and then doing what she has to do.

Natasha, letting go, falling to save Yelena.

Natasha, letting go, falling to save everyone.

[hemlock-dreams]

What's Spidys relationship like with the other NY bound heros?

Got a bunch of other hero asks so it's time for Ye Olde Lore Dump!

Johnny and H!Spiderman have never gotten along- in either universe.

They don't even really have any real beef with each other, they're just two dudes who grate on each other's nerves for no particular reason- like two guys at a frat party who are just waiting for an excuse to duke it out.

There's just something about Johnny's playboy easy-come-and-go vibe that makes Spidey want to plant a fist in his face. And Johnny thinks Spiderman is a fucking buzzkill.

Black Widow and Spiderman have a good working relationship. He once helped her out of a tight spot in New York and he was fast, smart and discreet about it- so when she's got some ops she needs a second pair of hands for (under the table), she calls him.

Spiderman admires Nat's competence and single-minded focus in getting things done- they all appeal to the hunter in him. (And he's got a massive crush on her.)

They usually do one or two jobs every few months, and meet up for drinks at one of her safehouses. She's also knows his secret identity, because she's just that scary.

Logan and Peter are BFFs. For real. Logan was in town to help with some shit that ended up involving Deadpool and found himself at St. Margaret's.

He and Peter struck up a friendship that ends up with them going camping every couple of months for a week or so.

Logan likes Peter's no-bullshit sincerity and can tell he's had some shit(TM) go down in his life. Peter's easy to talk to and is good at reading the room. And Peter feels like Logan fills in that space Marko left as a friend/mentor/gruff bro figure.

Logan actually picks up when Peter calls. (most others he leaves on read).

Fun fact, he has no idea Peter is Spiderman.

And another fun fact, it's not Johnny Deadpool is jealous of, it's Logan.

Peter has a very complicated relationship with the Avengers.

On one hand, he knows what they do and what they stand for- on the other hand, he's got a real problem with authority figures. He's been invited to the Avengers multiple times, in both realities.

The answer is always blanket N.O. (And, depending on whether it's stark asking, accompanied by a giant middle finger). (Though he's reluctantly agreed to have an avenger's phone in case there are any massive threats they need help with).

As for the members:

Stark gets on his nerves like nothing else. He's not super easy to rile up, but Stark's playboy arrogance (real or not), way he talks down at people, the self-appointed authority, the entitlement, and, of course, the fucking hypocrisy- it makes Spidey go 0 to 'cashmeoutside' immediately.

He and the Captain sometimes get along, but mostly when the Captain isn't in one of his preachy, pontificating moments. They do work very well together in a combat capacity, but they don't have much to talk about.

Thor is fine, but completely outside of Spidey's sphere and also, difficult to work with given his powers.

Bruce and Spidey just don't have much to talk about, and once again, Hulk is way too loud and can't particularly coordinate when they have to team up.

In general, H!Spiderman gets along with the more 'loner' heroes like Murdock, Deadpool, Black Widow, Bucky, Logan, Clint and so on.

(Side note, imagine he said all these shots fired shit to the Avengers and they were like 'no? none of this happened?' because it's not the same reality and Spiderman has to go home and die from the cringe???) (no we'll let him be cool for this)

-----

Once again, thank you so much for the asks!! I really appreciate all the love this AU has gotten and I hope these answers satisfy!!!

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being an Avenger with a low social battery

Avengers x reader

warnings:

a/n:

prompt: anonymous: “Can I have the avengers with a reader who has a really bad social battery. Like they can be out in public and then they just disappear and are like “nah I’m done with these mofo’s””

the avengers are quite the rowdy bunch

but you always as excitable as them

these guys were often in the public eye, always being asked all sorts of questions

but you just couldnt handle it a lot of the time

"y/n, can i get a picture with you? you're my hero!" -fan

"uh...yeah, sure. big smile!" -you, completely exhausted

you tried to be nice and not obvious that you were drained but boy was it hard

especially when tony threw his parties

you'd typically sit in the corner with a drink and try to make it through the night

but there were always some guests who were just dying to come talk to you

"hey! why are you hiding over here, there's a party going on! come, have some fun!" -clueless party guest

"oh, i'm okay over here, thank you" -you

"i'll keep you some company, then. why don't you tell me a story of one of your avenger missions"

some people just could not take the hint

but the avengers usually knew when you'd had enough

"wanna get out of here?" -nat

"please." -you

you'd recharge alone whenever you escaped the madness

dont even get me started on the news

they would do anything to get an interview with you

"y/n! could you comment on the recent events in [country] that you accompanied the avengers in?" -reporter

"we were there, we saved the day" -you, obviously exhausted

"is that all you have to say?" -reporter

"hey! don't you want to hear what i have to say? huh?" -tony

"thanks, tony" -you

"no problem, kiddo" -tony

wanda got it

you liked spending time with her because she liked to be calm and alone sometimes too

you'd read or watch tv or listen to music together in silence for hours

it was nice

it was funny because sometimes the team would all be socializing and then bam

"hey, where's y/n?" -steve

"i think they tapped out" -clint

"oh. i'll go check on them" -steve

"no, just leave them alone, they'll be back" -tony

after a lot of missions you'd just wait for the avengers on the quinjet while they spoke to authorities or SHIELD or whoever

"just forward me the mission report, i'll fill it out" -you

everyone just kinda let you do your thing

which worked out just fine for you

it drove fury crazy back in the day

"just why are we giving y/n special treatment? what? they're tired?" -fury

"i didn't say that, i said they were over your shit" -tony

"you better not have said that, i'll give you one last chance" -fury

and that is just another reason you were depleted

some days were better than others, and sometimes you could keep up! but once your battery died, that was it

"'social battery,' you say? any way i could be of assistance? maybe a small jolt from mjolnir to charge it back up?" -thor

"oh, no, just a figure of speech, no need for...that" -you

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 // @deanzboyfriend //

[m30wk1ttycat]

tough love

contains: teenagers being teenagers, cuss words, dirty thoughts, kissing, enemies to lovers, alcohol consumption mentions, smut ig?, getting caught sort of. pairing: newt x reader. summary: you're a med-jack. its almost impossible to ignore newt, always lingering somewhere in the corner of your eye. you hate him, or so it seemed. he hated that, so he decided to confront you about it, maybe force an answer out of you. word count: 1500, give or take.

you and newt had a bit of a rivalry going on. or at least, it seemed like it was rivalry of sorts.

"y/n."

"no," you murmur, trying to assemble some papers and whatever else it was that was on the table.

"please," he pleaded, leaning on the doorway.

"no."

this was just one of you guys' average conversations. you trying to do your job as a med-jack, newt trying to help you with whatever you were doing.

"are you sure?" he asked, still insisting on helping. you'd think he was in love with you or something - which wouldn't be too far off the truth, in all honesty.

"positive," you say, looking up at him from your place at the desk.

he was just so infuriating, persistent on helping with anything you did. everyone in the glade thought that it was just newt being sweet, but you were almost sure it had much more reason to it.

almost.

bandaging chuck's sprained ankle, he just had to walk in.

"need help?"

you roll your eyes in silence.

"thanks, but i'm good right now," you say, smiling. a smile so fake, even you couldn't recognize yourself. a smile you had to keep on your face for the sake of chuck. he was basically your little brother, why make it obvious you hated newt with all the strength you had?

"right," he muttered under his breath. finishing up chuck's ankle, you and chuck head out, completely ignoring his presence in the doorway.

"see you, then.."

"see ya, newt."

it didn't get any better when thomas arrived. the bonfire ended up being a mess to say the least. thomas got his ass beat by gally. and who tended to him? you. jeff had a headache that morning, hungover. clint overslept and skipped the entire bonfire last night. it was odd, because who would want to miss a bonfire night?

newt and thomas both got to the med hut/med-jack hut (i don't even know what to call it anymore). newt was there just to explain what happened, but it wasn't like you weren't aware. you were also there, after all. getting drunk and chatitng with the runners and the jeff, talking shit about the clumsy gladers who stumbled into the circle, who then got their faces bashed in by gally. it was bonfire night. you normally wouldn't even attempt to spark up a conversation with the guys who were most often in the med hut, unless they were injured and you had to take care of their injuries. no one was acting like themselves. but it was bonfire night, yay!!

"geez," you say as you sit him down, newt staring at you from across the room. "he didn't go easy on you, did he?"

and he, indeed, did not. he had several cuts on his forehead from falling, a busted lip and a bruised forehead.

"guess not," thomas shrugged, not wincing or anything. he kept calm, as calm as he could manage to be.

as you clean up the cuts and scrapes and whatnot, you could almost feel newt's eyes burn holes into your back. ignoring that feeling, you were done. thomas got up, smiling. you say your goobyes and thank yous, newt glaring daggers.

just as thomas left, smile still on your face, it quickly faded once you basically got body slammed by newt against a wall.

"why do you hate me?" he asked, frowning. "and don't say that you don't, we both know that's not true."

"newt," you breathe out.

"what is it that i'm doing wrong?" he was being harsh and he knew it. maybe pushing you and pinning you against a wall wasn't exactly his most isaac newton idea? "answer me."

you look away. the result of that? newt pressing you against the wall even harder, your wrists above your head, held together by his hand, his other leading your face upwards to meet his eyes.

"look at me. y/n."

"i am."

it wasn't like you had much of a choice anyways. he pressed his hips to yours, still waiting for an answer. he wanted you to say something. anything, really. just something to prove you weren't dead or slowly passing. though, his hopes were crushed when you stuttered your words.

he let out a breath, leaning his head down right above your shoulder.

"don't be so difficult, there's no need," he said, harshly so. he waited for you to react, only to be met with a small whine coming from your lips as you tried to free yourself. it was no use, he knew that, you should've, too.

your faces mere inches away.

"let me make this clear," he breathed, his lips inches from you, close enough to feel his hot breath on your skin. "i like you, y/n."

he liked you?

HE LIKED YOU??

he glared at you as affectionately as he could, trying hard not to seem like a bitch with the way he was holding you, smushed between him and the wall.

just like in every book, movie, fanfiction - the tension was there. the chemistry was there. the moment was there. the sparks, the butterflies, the way it felt like you were the only two in the world at that moment.

with a grunt, you tilt your head up to look at him, struggling to even talk with his hips propped up against your own, harshly so. "newt," you breathed, "i don't hate you."

"sure you don't," he said, furrowing a brow at you. he kept your wrists above your head, as much as you wished he'd let go. and the harshness of his hips against yours wasn't easing up. at all.

you roll your eyes, trying to look away to hide the blush on your cheeks, but his hand on your chin stopped you before you could even blink, his hand holding both of your wrists captive.

"if you don't hate me, why do you ignore me?"

you let out a whine, "ow-"

he tilted his head to the side, letting go of your wrists. he looked away, smirking. "sorry 'bout that."

he wasn't sorry and you knew that. he wasn't sorry. not one bit..

he also knew that.

and he also knew you couldn't just back away. literally - he had you pinned to a wall in the med hut, where probably anyone with a medical problem could walk in. anytime, too.

"you're making it hard for me to do my job.."

and it wasn't the only thing hard in the room, if you catch my drift. wink wink.

"so what?"

you're almost sure that he's just doing this rile you up, make you hate him even more, when deep down, it only made you want to fuck the life out of his pretty face even more than before. (meow)

"y/n, i love you. more than anything and anyone in this shucking place, really," he confessed.

"i love you too," you mumble under your breath, barely coherent enough for him to hear.

he shook his head, rolling his eyes, trying to seem as annoyed as he could. as much as he tried, the smile forming on his face failed him.

"shut up, i love you more." he pushed your hips back with his a bit. a deep brown gaze, pupils blown wide, he whispered something along the lines of "i'm getting sick of this". and before you could even process what he said, his lips met your in a passionate kiss. his lips tasted like fresh strawberries, a small hint of the moonshine from lat night during the bonfire. maybe he was still a tiny bit drunk, maybe not, but that didn't stop you two from making out in the med hut.

needy, sloppy kisses. hickeys on your neck here and there. newts hips rock, slowly, teasingly, against your own, the friction between you making for delightful shivers rushing through his body. his hands find purchase in your hips, pressing you harder against him as he sucked dark blotches onto your neck. you could feel the growing bulge against your inner thighs. desperately, he kissed you again, nipping at your bottom lip. still, he was gentle. or at least trying to be.

how could he kiss you so fiercely yet so gently? was it the british charm?

whatever it was, you couldn't get enough of it. your mind couldn't either. it was concerning, how long he could go like this, sucking and nibbling at your neck like a snack.

too busy kissing him, you didn't notice minho in the doorway, waiting for you or just anyone to notice him. he stood there for a minute, eyes wide as he watched the second-in-command, his best friend, make out with you, the only available (not really anymore) med-jack.

he cleared his throat awkwardly. "y/n," he called, "gonna pay attention to your patients or what?"

whoops, awkwaaaaaaard..

[goldenempyrean]

Hi there! If you are still taking them id love to request a fic where the avengers are bantering/teasing Natasha because she supposedly never gets sick but a little while later R finds her crying and thinks its because the guys have upset her but its really because she feels so terrible.Maybe including Baby, I think this is more than just the sniffles and Oh my god you’re completely burning up. Sorry if this is too specific I just think it would be so cute

You're My World

〚 Notes - Wow, its been a while. I haven’t written Nat in so long, finally getting this request done <3 〛

〚 Pairing - Natasha Romanoff x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - Nobody really believes it when Natasha gets ill but there’s always going to be one person thats always there for her. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 2100 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

╚════════ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ════════╝

“Afternoon sunshine, and just what time do you call this?” The voice of Tony called out with a small chuckle, raising his eyebrows from behind a mug of coffee.

“Lay off her Stark.” You bit back, shooting him a glare and came over to where your girlfriend had shuffled into the room. She was leaning against the doorframe, her pale complexion a sharp contrast to her messy red curls.

You put down your own coffee and came to her side, hand reaching up to cup her cheeks, “Morning baby,” You murmured, kissing her forehead gently before taking her hand and leading her over to sit by the kitchen island, “You still not feeling good?”

The two of you had been cuddled in bed together last night when she’d complained of being extra tired and after some gentle encouraging, she’d eventually admitted that she’d had a growing sinus headache for most of the day.

When you’d woken up that morning, Natasha had still been asleep, still curled up in your arms. Usually, she was up before the sun had even risen, getting in a workout or simply just enjoying her morning. After some careful consideration you decided it would be best to let her sleep in, so you’d carefully detached yourself from her arms and pulled the blanket back over her before silently tiptoeing out from the room.

Natasha shook her head, “I think I’m getting a cold.” She mumbled glumly, letting her head fall onto your shoulder as you sat down beside her. She stayed like that for a moment before falling into a painful sounding coughing fit.

“Baby, I think this is more than just the sniffles,” You sighed sympathetically in response, “You wanna head back to bed? I can bring you some water and something to eat?”

“Heading back to bed? At this time in the afternoon?” Tony interrupted with a playful scoff as she jumped up to sit on the countertop. He looked at you then Natasha before whistling through his teeth, “You, Miss Romanoff, look like shit.”

“Shut up Stark.” It was too early to be dealing with his shenanigans. Natasha just rolled her eyes, judging it best to simply ignore him, “And just for the record, it’s barely 10am. No idea what world you live in where that’s considered afternoon.”

"That's probably the world where Tony's been up since 4am tinkering with his latest suit," Steve chimed in, entering the kitchen with a knowing smile. He grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter and took a bite, eyes twinkling with amusement.

Natasha gave a weak chuckle which was quickly followed by a short cough into her elbow, rubbing a hand down the front of her throat. She swallowed and tried her best not to wince at the painful sensation which followed.

Of course you noticed. “I’ll grab you that water.” You rubbed her back gently for a moment before heading to the fridge.

“I didn’t even know you could get sick yknow.” Clint piped up, seemingly deciding to join in on the conversation. He’d previously been too engaged with trying to solve the children’s word search on the back of his brightly coloured cereal box.

She looked over towards him, “What do you mean?” Her eyes narrowed a little.

“I dunno.” He shrugged, “I just mean, I’ve never even seen you close to sick. Like when you had the gnarly shoulder cut that got infected, you didn’t even run a fever or anything like most people do.”

Tony pulled a face of disgust, “Barton, I really do not need to be hearing about gross shoulder gashes when I’m trying to enjoy my coffee, thank you very much.” Clint pulled a similar face to mock him before throwing a tea towel in his general direction, leading the two of them to start bickering at each other.

You’d just been handing your girlfriend the bottle of water when Bruce strolled in - adjusting his glasses and taking in the scene. "How come everyone's so chipper this morning," He asked dryly. "What's going on?"

"Romanoff’s caught the plague," Tony took a break from messing with Clint to speak in his most serious voice, earned several eyerolls from around the room, "But don't worry, Doctor Banner, I'm sure ‘Miss I Never Take Sick Days’ will pull through."

Natasha groaned, “God you’re such an asshole.” She sniffled, rubbing at her nose for a moment. Whatever itch she’d been trying to get rid of clearly hadn’t been listening because a second later she drew in a sharp breath and sneezed twice in quick succession.

It wasn’t exactly a dainty sound, like her usual sneezes rather harsher yet still somewhat feminine. Obviously, it was still adorable, but you couldn’t help but think now wasn’t the best thing to vocalise that.

Instead, you settled for a loving, “Bless you.” as you offered her a tissue from the box nearby. She mumbled a quiet thank you, dabbing at her nose. The teasing continued as you rubbed her back, trying to comfort her.

"Maybe she just needs more vitamins," Clint suggested with a smirk. "Or maybe a new suit of armour, Tony?"

"Please, like I'd let anyone else touch my suits," Tony replied, his voice dripping with mock horror. Natasha sneezed again, a little louder this time and he pointed over in her direction, “Plus there’s no way I’m letting someone that drippy inside one of my suits. I’m not in the mood to expose my lab to a walking biohazard.”

“You’re exhausting.” Natasha sniffled from behind a tissue. Her nose was starting to take on an irritated red twinge. She coughed again before clearing her throat roughly, “s’cuse me.”

You felt your gaze soften a little, “You’re okay sweetheart.” You spoke reassuringly, before offering an outstretched hand as you slid from your stool, “How ‘bout we head back up to bed, get you away from all the men-pheromones. They surely can’t be making you feel any better.”

It didn’t take much convincing for her to agree.

She accepted your hand gratefully as helped her to her feet, wrapping an arm around her waist to support her as you both walked back to your room.

Once back in your room, you gently guided her to sit on the edge of the bed. "How about I run you a nice relaxing bath?" You suggested, brushing a stray curl from her forehead. The subtle heat rising from her skin didn’t go unnoticed though, “Poor girl, you're completely burning up here, aren’t you?”

You made a mental note to take her temperature and get some medicine into her later. You knew she’d likely fight you about it, but that bridge could be crossed when it came to it.

In the current moment Natasha nodded, “A bath sounds nice.” Her voice was a little worse than earlier, a little more congested and scratchier.

“Okay, give me a few minutes and I'll get it ready," You said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead before heading into the bathroom.

It didn’t take long to draw the bath. You methodically checked it to make sure it wasn’t too hot nor cold, even going as far to add a generous squirt of your berry-scented bubble bath. You weren’t entirely sure she’d be able to smell it but the clouds of fluffy bubbles covering the surface of the water certainly did the job. The steam began to rise, filling the room with a comforting warmth. You smiled to yourself and drew a little heart on the condensation-soaked mirror before heading back out to get Nat.

Natasha wasn’t where you’d left her. Instead, she was led down on the bed, curled up with her back facing the door. You knew she wasn’t asleep by her breathing, so you gently came to sit by her side, “Natty?” You murmured quietly, reaching out to stroke her back when you noticed the damp sniffles coming from her. She was crying.

“Oh baby, what’s up my love?” You were pulling her into your arms in an instant. She clung onto you; her body wracked with feverish chills. You knew fevers made her weepy, but this was different. Your poor baby was distraught.

The redhead sobbed for a little longer, before sniffling thickly, “I don’t know.” She managed to stammer out, wiping her eyes but fresh tears quickly came to replace them.

“Was it the boys earlier?” You scowled, “I know they didn’t mean harm but-“

She shook her head, looking more vulnerable than you’d ever seen her, "No, it's not that. I’m just- I just feel so exhausted... my whole-body hurts and I feel so ill." Her voice cracked as she tried to speak, blinking as your hand gently moved up to wipe away the tears streaming down her fave.

You wrapped her in a gentle hug, rubbing her back soothingly. "I know, sweetheart, I know. It's sucks to feel sick; I understand especially how hard it is when you’re not used to it either. You’re my world Natasha, so just let me look after you, alright?”

She nodded after a moment and you gave her a few minutes to let it all out, holding her until she was ready. Eventually the tears stopped, and she looked up you again, “I’m okay. I’m sorry I just lost myself for moment.” She leaned away from you as she cough harshly, her poor voice sounding even worse then earlier.

You rubbed her back until she managed to stop coughing and catch her breath, “You’ve got nothing to apologise for. You and fevers don’t go well as if we both know but if we’re being honest, I think you needed that, to just get all of that out. Sometimes its better to cry it all out.”

“It still sucks though.”

“I won't argue with that,” You couldn’t hold back a chuckle. She did have a point. “How about we get you in that bath now?”

The offer wasn’t refused and soon the two of you were cooped up in the bathroom. You found yourself kneeling down by the side of the tub as you gently washed her hair, running your hand through her damp red curls.

“How does that feel baby? The steam should help open up your sinuses a little.”

Natasha closed her eyes, a small sigh escaping her lips. "It feels good, really good." Her voice was softer now, a bit more relaxed as she leaned into your touch. You continued to gently massage her scalp, feeling the tension slowly melt away under your fingers.

You reached for the cup nearby, carefully rinsing the shampoo from her hair, ensuring none of it got into her eyes. "You're doing great," You murmured, placing a soft kiss on her temple.

She sniffled again, but this time it wasn't accompanied by tears. "Thanks for taking care of me," She whispered, her eyes meeting yours with a grateful look.

“Of course.” You smiled lovingly. The two of you continued the talk quietly as you continued to wash her hair. Nat had insisted she was okay to sit by herself but the way her eyes kept drooping closed didn’t have you convinced. Eventually the water began to turn cold, and it was time for her to get out.

There was a fluffy towel ready and waiting to be wrapped around her. You’d already laid out a fresh pair of matching pyjamas for you both to change into.

You helped her into the pyjamas, making sure she was warm and comfortable. As she settled onto the bed, you pulled the covers up around her, tucking her in gently. Natasha's eyes fluttered shut for a moment, but she opened them again, looking at you when she felt something being gently nestled into her hold.

Her small brown bear. Something only, you knew about. It brought her comfort when there was nobody else around, it was something you’d given to her before you’d gone on a long undercover mission. If anyone else knew how much it meant to her, she’d probably have to kill them. This was something only she could know.

"Do you need anything else my darling?" You asked quietly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face as you climbed beneath the covers beside her.

Rolling over to face you, Natasha buried her face in your chest, “Just you, only you.” She muttered before hiding a yawn against your shirt. You knew she’d be asleep soon and you began drawing random shapes down her back as she settled into your hold, her eyes fluttering closed as she fell into a gentle sleep.

It was true Natasha Romanoff didn’t get sick often but when she did? Well, maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

〖 Join My Taglist! 〗@sayah13 @mahalkitanova @romanoffskisser @scrambled-brain-eggs @natashamyl0ve @bloomingflowersthings @kathleenmikaelson @shamelessbearunknown @inluvwithfictionalwomen @citrussnz @fluffyblanketgecko @kljhsong @santana1437 @blackwidow-3 @asiangmrchk13 @lovelyy-moonlight @juiles @lots-of-pockets @sashawalker2 @natashamaximoff69 @observeowl @beholdagaywriter @widows201 @llovergirleraa @danveration @idkeithershawty @rainedontknow @poison-blackheart @loveshineslikethesky @somber-sapphic @lexasaurs634 @ahintofchaos @moonysreid @paisley-yy @wandanats-goodgirl @nuianced-tck-enby @maomaoincomming @anne-lister @rianlovelygirl @taliiiaasteria @swaqcenix @inluvwithfandom @alexvausesgirl @godhatesgoodgirls 

[itscherrylipsforme]

Paper cuts and cheek kisses: Minho tmr x Med jack!fem!reader

Summary: Minho was never one to go the med jacks' cabin often. On the contrary actually, you had to drag him into it whenever he got hurt in order to patch him up. Oh girl, but things changed when you two started dating, and now he comes up with the silliest excuses just to see your face. At least being his fave med jack means some special treatment

Warnings: None, except that Minho is madly in love and reader is slightly sarcastic (got it from her mother, aka me)

Requested: yes

Words: Around 1300

Author's rambles: As someone who had the biggest crush on Minho growing up (Who I want to fool with this? I still do) and who imagined her role in the Maze would be med jack this request was so cute to write. Hope you like it!

Masterlist Characters I write for

Likes and reblogs are appreciated ღ

I do not authorize any of my works to be copied, translated or plagiarized ✗

Everyone needed to prove their worth in the maze, from the youngest and oldest boys to you, the only girl. And being honest, your passed that test with excellent marks. Living in a place full of the most stubborn and reckless shanks you have ever known (not that you remembered meeting anyone before them, but that was not the point) proving that you were strong enough wasn’t a choice, but a need. However, most of them shown them a new kind of strength they hadn’t seem until then. The strength you used to calm Chuck down when he was crying during his first night in the glazeThe strength which was necessary to always be the one who introduced first to new greenies, to do it with a sincere smile as saying “Yeah, this place is a clunk, but it’s our clunk. Our place”. The same one that helped you become a med-jack.

You loved your role, somehow you were really good at it as the girl you were before being trapped there had some knowledge about it. But you would be lying if you said it didn’t have its downsides, one of them being… Well, him.

“Minho, slinthead, go to the med-jack's cabin right now. That cut doesn’t look good” you demanded as soon as you saw him on the gardens talking with Newt after he came back from the maze.

“Nice to see you too, princess” That condescending pet names he used on you, you swear one day your eyes would fall from your face just because of the times you had rolled them. Since your first day you had to deal with his teasing (not flirting, as you had corrected Newt when he asked about it once) “And don’t worry, Clint and Jeff already saw it and told me it was fine as long as I cleaned today in the shower”

“Clint and Jeff only let you get away with no treating any of your wound properly because they are scared you will fight them if they said otherwise” You crossed your arms “Unfortunately for you, you don’t have the same effect on me. To the cabin, now. I will be the one who binds it”

“You are lucky I can’t say no to you, darling” He started following you towards the med-jack’s, not without smiling sheepishly first.

Sitting in the hammock, Minho looked at your face as you gently rubbed a cotton soaked in iodine. So focused on your work and yet so beautiful, he thought to himself. He was enjoying the view, but your words snapped him from his thoughts.

“Can I ask why the hell you never want us to see your injuries?”

“Pretty girl, you are smart, way more than me, but you don’t get me. It’s not that I don’t want you to do your job, I have my reasons for it” He smirked, if he wasn’t so stupid sometimes you would admit he looked handsome right now.

“Please, enlighten me” You turned around to look for the necessary equipment to patch him up.

“Do you know that before you arrived, I never protested when it came to the med-jacks? That Clint or Jeff would treat me, and I wouldn’t utter a word?”

“If that is your way of saying that I am bad at my job, you should be more careful. Do I have to remind you that I am the one here who has a scalpel nearby?”

You were so done with his shit, if you remembered right there was a phrase that said something like “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you” and same way he shouldn’t annoy the person who was responsible for his health. The scalpel thing was a joke, more or less, but you were starting to rethink it.

“Not really darling” He chuckled, and you found yourself liking the sound of it “Maybe I just convinced Clint and Jeff to wait to heal this because I knew you wouldn’t want me to be injured. So, you would take me then and I would get to spend some time with my favourite med-jack”

“You are unbearable” And you were completely sure you mean what you said, but you couldn’t bring yourself not to smile at his silly plan “Please, tell me you didn’t get the cut just to see me” You asked while wrapping his strong (Were you thinking about that right now? Really?) arm with the bandage.

“You shouldn’t think too low of me, y/n” He shook his head “The injury was an accident, Newt came up with the plan when he saw it on the Garden”

“I knew that you couldn’t come up with all of that on your own” You smirked and stared at him. Had his eyes always been that deep or was the light that passed through the windows what made them look like that? “By the way, the patch up is done, just be sure you don’t drench it and come her to change it every two days until it scars. I would also recommend that you take a day off running, but you would ignore me anyway, and I won’t waste my saliva”

“You look really good when you are mad at someone, has anyone ever told you that?” He blurted out, not even thinking it twice, and he was surprised when instead of telling him to fuck off you blushed. Neither of you had expected it. You needed a few seconds to recover your mind and your ability to speak.

“Whatever, you can go now” You hadn’t realized how close you had been to him until then “Come on, what are you expecting? A good job sticker or something?”

“I have a better plan in mind” Another smirk, his hands guiding yours to rest on his shoulders, his comfortably around your waist. His face coming closer to yours, threatening to close the gasp… Woah, you had to admit that this bastard was handsome. And finally, his lips on yours. Slightly nervous at first, as he was afraid you would pull away at any given moment. Then sweet turning more and more passionate by seconds.

News always flied in the glaze, you two being “a thing” now was not. an exception. By the time the next bonfire arrived, no one, not even the greenie, wasn’t aware of it. Newt was glad, Minho had been rambling about you way too long and he couldn’t stand it anymore. Alby was a little bit angry, his rules had been broken again after all, but that was something you could deal with later. Minho was over the moon. You finally assumed that the line between annoyance and love is really thin. But there were two people who weren’t so happy about it…

“Here he comes again” Clint claimed as he saw a familiar tall and dark-haired boy entering the cabin.

“What happened this time?” Jeff asked as he placed some liquids on the shelves “Did he touch some poison ivy? Or did he catch a cold?” Being honest, they were growing tired of your Minho coming over with some stupid excuse to see you.

“A paper cut thanks to the map’s room, actually” He answered as he came closer to the desk where you were writing down the inventory before the next box arrived. “Afternoon, princess”

“Afternoon you too, my lovely clumsy bastard” You joked, placing a soft kiss on his lips

“Y/n, we will be running off band-aids if you keep putting one on your boyfriend every time he wants to see you” Clint protested as Jeff faked to be throwing up because of your small gestures of affection.

“Fine, a get-well kiss will be enough I guess” Minho accepted, and you wasted no time and kissed his cheek.

The rest of the med-jacks were more than annoyed with him, but he didn’t seem to care. After all, you were his favorite med-jack, the only one whose opinion mattered to him.

[literaryavenger]

Love Is A Battlefield

Summary: Bucky gets hurt during a mission and you can't help but blame yourself.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Minimal use of Y/N. Language cause why not. Mentions of Bucky's past. Injuries. Overprotective reader. Description of violence. Fluff. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 4.5K

A/N: This was inspired by this post and a dream I had lol. I couldn't help but start writing and this is what came out. Enjoy.

Masterlist

"Who the fuck do you think you’re calling a bitch, you ass?" you sneer at the guy to your left right before kicking him in the stomach and then bringing his head down on your knee when he doubles over, effectively knocking him out.

"Language!" you hear in you earpiece and roll your eyes.

"Why don’t you shut the fuck up, Rogers." you tell him while making your way through the corridor, taking Hydra agents down as you go.

"Can’t you do this without cursing so much?!" he sounds more exasperated at you than at the agents he’s supposed to keep distracted outside.

"Can’t you stop bitching in my ear? I’m a little busy here!" all he answers with is a groan and you know you won this round.

You hear Sam crackling before he says "1-0 to Y/N." which makes you laugh.

"Thanks, Sammy."

"Anytime, baby." you roll your eyes at his nickname, the small distraction allowing an agent to get too close to you and you feel a sharp pain in your forearm and almost drop your gun.

"Shit!" you hiss at the pain and zero in on the idiot that cut you.

You can hear the concerned voices in your ear, but don’t allow yourself to get distracted again as you take care of the last few agents on your side of the building.

"Y/N, are you okay? What’s happening? Can someone get to her?" you hear Bucky’s voice for the first time since the mission started and you can’t help the warm feeling it brings, the concern in his voice making you answer almost immediately.

"Just give me a minute!" you say as you battle the last guy standing.

Once you’ve successfully knocked him out, you take a second to breathe before addressing the voices still coming to your ear while you make your way through the maze of corridors in this Hydra base.

"I’m okay guys, but apparently all these people have some sort of collective knife kink." you say and you can hear Steve’s annoyed groan and the rest of the team’s laughter as you check out your cut. Not too deep, you think to yourself.

You think you hear a relieved sigh between the laughter, but almost instantly forget about it as you finally come to the door you’ve been looking for.

"Clint, status?" you ask him since he’s on the roof, being the eyes on the whole operation.

"Everyone’s thoroughly distracted out here." he answers.

"Good. James, Sam, are you done with the explosives?" you can hear Sam grunting as you enter the room, locating the computer you need and turning it on.

"Just a second!" Sam says, you hear a couple of punches landing and then "Done. This place is ready to blow as soon as you have the files."

"And hurry, we can’t hold them off forever." Steve adds.

"Inserting the USB now, I need at least 5 minutes for the download to finish. Friday, remember to copy Hill at Shield HQ and to save the files in the Avengers private server." you tell the AI as you make your way through the office, grabbing files that seem important as the digital ones download.

"Really? Why the private server?" Steve asks between punches.

"Because, Captain Dumbass, these files could contain sensitive information about one of our own. We have to be careful with them." you say while still looking through the cabinets of papers.

"Do you have to be so mean to me?" he almost whines.

"Hey, it’s your best friend that I’m looking out for." you say almost laughing.

"Yeah, I’m sure it’s me you’re doing this for." You can basically hear the smirk in Steve’s voice but before you can answer, Natasha cuts in.

"Are you two done bickering?" she says annoyed.

"Oh no, please, let them keep going, this is so entertaining." Tony comments, but you get distracted from the conversation when you find a black box in one of the desk drawers that was previously locked, you open it and can’t help the gasp that escapes you. Bucky’s dog tags.

"Guys… do we have to blow up this base?" you ask, quieter than you’d like, leaving everyone else confused. Between all of the “what”s you hear Steve say your name.

"You know the drill, we download the digital files, save as much of the paper ones as we can and then blow the building up. This one’s no different." he tells you, but you can’t help but disagree.

"I think it is…" you can hear them asking you to explain, so you do, trying to find the right way to say this "I think… I think this is the first base they took James to." you say, still talking quietly but loud enough for them to hear.

The comms go silent, everyone processing what you just say, only the sound of battling going on, but you’re only worried about one person.

"James?"

Nothing.

"James, are you okay?" you can’t help but worry, his silence snapping you out of the trance you were in, you close the box you were still staring at and put it safely in your pocket, your hand going to your ear instinctively.

"Bucky?!" He still doesn’t answer.

You hear a bip behind you and Friday lets you know the download is complete, you take the drive and make your way out, your worry only increasing with every step.

"Does anyone have eyes on Barnes?" you ask the rest of the team.

"Oh no." Clint says, and you stop immediately, your heart beating out of your chest.

"What?! You can’t just say ‘oh no’ and not elaborate, Barton!" your mind is going into overdrive, not knowing what to expect.

"I have eyes on him, but you’re not gonna like it."

"What do you mean, Clint?! just say it!" this time Steve is the one to snap at him.

"He’s getting surrounded, it looks like he’s passed out." you swear you can actually feel your heart stopping.

"Can anybody get to him?" you say desperately.

"He’s got maybe 2 minutes before he’s surrounded, everybody’s too far or too busy." yeah, Clint’s really not giving you any good news today.

"Can’t you help him out?!" you almost yell at him.

"Not without hurting him, there are just too many!" he sounds more worried with every word and you know it’s bad. "Technically you’re the closest." He informs you and you frown.

"What do you mean, technically?" You look out the window of the corridor you found yourself in, looking towards the roof and find Clint already looking down at you while he speaks without stopping his aid of the others with his arrows.

"The second window to your left. He’s right under it." you go to said window and try to open it, but it’s closed shut.

"These windows are bulletproof, Clint can you break it somehow?"

"I can, but you could get hu-"

"Just do it!" you yell, cutting him off.

You can see him aim an arrow to the window, it hits its target and you can hear Clint counting down from 3 before it shatters.

You take no time to be careful of the glass as you take a little disk from your belt and press the button while pointing it at the ground.

A rope shoots out of it and anchors to the floor and, while attaching the other end to the back of your suit, you make a mental note to thank Tony for always updating your tactical suits with new useful gadgets.

You leap out the window, landing with your feet on the wall, basically running down on it as you take out your guns and start shooting down at the now dumbfounded agents.

Before they can even figure out where the shooting is coming from, you're on the ground next to Bucky, cutting the rope with a knife, then stabbing the agent closest to you.

You’re punching, kicking and shooting, trying your best not to get too far away from Bucky, basically shielding him with your body.

You hear a faint ‘holy shit’ from Clint and the other’s voices come through but you can’t follow the conversation, your whole focus on keeping Bucky safe.

You stray a little too far away from him as you do the take down move Natasha taught you on one of the agents, your legs around his neck as you bring him down to the ground.

When you turn around you see one guy getting dangerously close to Bucky’s unconscious body and you feel a sudden burst of possessiveness throughout your own body.

"He’s mine." you basically growl, taking a knife from the body of the guy you just took down and throwing it.

It lodges perfectly in his throat and he goes down right away, blood pouring out of him. You have no time to be disgusted as you keep taking down agents and, one after the other, they all drop.

The second the last one touches the ground, you're kneeling down next to Bucky.

"Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead, please don't be dead..." you keep repeating, looking for the button on his tactical suit that monitors his health. Again, thanks Tony. You find it and press it "Friday, vitals."

"Heartbeat detected." the AI says and you immediately let out a breath of relief, not even knowing when you started holding your breath. "Head injury detected, possible concussion. Various cuts throughout his body. No other injuries detected."

It could be worse.

You give yourself a second to breathe while looking at Bucky, then talk into your comm, not taking your eyes off of him.

"Ok, guys, uhm... Bucky’s ass may be cute but it’s heavy. I’m gonna need a hand here." you hear some snickers and then Clint’s voice. "Cap and Sam are on their way."

You’re still looking at Bucky, almost worried that the second you take your eyes off of him his heartbeat is gonna stop, when you hear footsteps behind you and, almost automatically, you grab a knife next to your foot and throw it.

You hear it before you see it, the metal of the knife hitting Cap’s shield before he lowers it and, his face shocked and glad for his fast reflexes, he says "Relax, it’s just us."

"Sorry, I’m a little jumpy."

"Gee, wonder why." Sam says sarcastically as you turn back to Bucky.

"Just take James to the jet, Sam."

"Why do I have to carry his ass?" he whines like a child.

"Because you can fly, birdbrain, you’ll get there before we make it to the front gate." you’re almost irritated at this point, but when you turn to the duo and Sam gives you an unimpressed look, you sigh and try to calm down.

"Sorry, just… take him to safety. Please." Your voice is soft now, Bucky’s well-being the only thing on your mind. Sam picks up on your concern and gets serious, moving towards Bucky to pick him up.

"I’ll take him to the jet. See you guys there." and with that, he takes off.

You watch him go for a second before you feel a hand on your shoulder, turning around to see Steve’s equally concerned face.

"Relax, you heard Friday, he’s gonna be fine. Even if he does have a concussion the serum will heal him in an instant." you know he's right, thanks to the serum his bones heal overnight, a concussion is nothing.

But still, you can’t help the worry you feel.

"I’ll relax when he’s awake and I can see he’s fine." he’s about to say something back when you hear Tony’s voice in your ear.

"If you two are done making out about it, we really should be getting out of here." you roll your eyes and smile a little at the pink color Steve’s cheeks were turning while you start making your way to the front courtyard of the base where Natasha and Tony are still holding off the remaining Hydra agents that just seemed to keep coming.

The second he sees you both giving them a hand, Tony takes off towards the roof. "Incoming, Robin Hood, get ready for take off."

This is your cue to get to the jet, Steve, Natasha and you making your way to the front gate while still fighting, the remaining agents scrambling away the second the explosions inside the building start.

You all get to the jet and, after making sure everyone’s inside, Steve turns to Clint. "Take us home, Barton." he merely nods and makes his way to the pilot's seat, immediately taking off.

You make a beeline to where Bucky’s lying on a gurney, still unconscious.

"How is he?" you ask Bruce without taking your eyes away from the super soldier’s face.

"He’s okay, his cuts are already starting to heal themselves, so should be his head injury. He should wake up maybe within the hour, two tops." you nod and make your way to the chair beside his bed, taking his right hand in both of yours. 

You don’t know why you do that, now that you think about it you’ve probably not even touched Bucky in general more than a handful of times.

You’re not the closest of friends, you work well together in the field and get along outside of it, you hang out in group settings such as game and movie nights, team trainings and the team-building outings Tony forces everybody to go on, but that’s about it.

The lack of one on one interactions, though, didn’t help you escape your growing crush for the long-haired super soldier. You just can’t help the warm feeling you get every time he’s even in the same room, let alone when he looks at you.

You can hide it when you’re in mission mode, always being professional, but the second it happens in a normal setting like the living room or the kitchen or the gym you turn into a flustered schoolgirl, stumbling over your words and blushing every time you have his attention.

You’ve convinced yourself he doesn’t notice, if he has he hasn’t said anything, but for your own piece of mind you pretend he just doesn’t.

Sometimes it seems like he does it on purpose, though. He’d get close enough that you can smell his cologne and basically feel his body heat.

Sometimes his hands hover on your waist while he passes by you, never actually touching you but just close enough to make you almost pass out at the feeling.

And you can swear you can see a smirk on his face, but it always disappears so fast it’s just easier to convince yourself you’re imagining it.

He would have the most innocent face while asking you if something’s wrong, and all you can answer with is a small ‘I’m fine’ before basically running away, never once seeing the smug look on his face at the flustered state only he manages to put you in.

You’re brought out of your head by Steve’s hand on your shoulder, again, as he says "he’s gonna be fine."

"It’s my fault…" you say quietly, ignoring his attempt at comforting you.

"It’s not y-" you interrupt him before he can even finish.

"Yes, it is. I distracted him." You say firmly before your voice softens. "They were so close to getting him, Steve..."

You can’t take your eyes off of Bucky, almost willing him to wake up, so you could apologize. "Do you have any idea what would’ve happened if they got to him? What they could’ve done to him…" you trail off, not wanting to voice all the possibilities out loud.

Of course you know Steve knows. He worries more than you for Bucky, his best friend, basically his brother, the only family he has left from his past life.

But Steve is having none of it.

"You wanna play the blame game? He wasn’t even supposed to be on this mission, but I couldn’t stop him. He knew what it entailed, he knew it was a base full of hydra agents, but he didn’t back down because it was the right thing to do. He wants to do good and help us take down Hydra for good, he knows the risks but it was his choice. You can’t take that on you." Logically you know he's annoyingly right, again, but looking at Bucky laying motionless you can’t help the guilt that creeps up on you. 

"Friday," you say quietly, ignoring Steve’s confused look "play the footage of Bucky before he passed out coupled with the audio from our comms."

The hologram on the table in the middle of the jet lights up and Bucky’s figure can be seen fighting, then you can hear your own voice telling your theory to the group and Bucky halts for a second, he almost gets punched but avoids it at the last second, hitting the guy with his metal arm.

Steve turns to you with a smug look, knowing he was right, but you raise your hand before he can say anything and keep watching.

You see Bucky fighting and hear yourself calling his name and you can see his eyes rolling when you call him James. He’s asked you countless times to call him Bucky, but you always refuse, not sure why.

All you know it’s that it kind of annoys him but in a different way than when Sam or Peter annoy him, you can tell he’s not actually upset, it’s kind of your own little thing with him seeing as he doesn’t allow anyone else call him by his first name.

You can see Bucky still fighting and ignoring you, but when he hears you call him “Bucky” for the first time he stops, right as an agent is throwing a punch.

You see Bucky get hit in the jaw, stumble and fall, his head hitting the wall behind him pretty hard. He doesn’t get up, but you see the last agent standing get taken out by an arrow, Clint you assume.

You can hear your alarmed conversation with Clint as more agents slowly creep up on Bucky, probably being cautious, worried he could wake up any second, then there’s the sound of bullets flying and agents getting hit.

Suddenly you’re there.

You take your eyes off the screen, about to tell Steve that even he can’t deny now that it was your fault, but the whole team's attention was on the footage of you mercilessly taking out man after man, even Clint’s there watching after putting the jet on autopilot.

The look on your face frightening to the point where you almost don’t recognize yourself.

You don’t want to relive the moment, so you shift your attention back on Bucky, your hands still holding onto his.

You can hear Clint’s “holy shit” and then your “he’ mine” and you feel yourself heat up at the possessiveness in your voice.

The video gets paused and you can hear Tony asking "what the fuck was that?" his voice clearly amused, and you know what he’s asking you.

Before you can answer though, you feel Bucky’s hand squeeze yours softly, your eyes snaps down to it and then to his face while getting up from your chair.

He’s mumbling something that sounds very similar to your name but his eyes are still closed.

"James?" he slowly opens his eyes and they instantly find yours, a smile forming on his face that you can’t but mirror.

"How do you feel, Buck?" Steve asks him from beside you.

"Like I got hit really hard in the head." he groans while he tries to sit up, his hand still holding onto yours while you help him.

"Take it easy," Bruce tells him while stopping next to him on his other side "you probably don’t have a concussion, but I’d put some ice on your head to help with the headache."

"I’ll get it." you let go of Bucky, and walk to the mini freezer to get the ice pack.

Bucky takes a moment to look around him, his eyes landing on the screen where you’re frozen mid-fight.

"Friday, unpause the video." he says, curiosity taking over.

He watches you fight, protecting him with your life and he swears he’s never been more in awe in his life. He sees you get on your knees next to him and hears your whispers, praying for him to be okay, over and over.

He sees the relief in your face when Friday tells you he’s alive and he hears you call his ass “cute” as you ask the others for help, making him smile again.

"Friday, stop the footage." you say, ice in your hands but maintaining a safe distance from Bucky, embarrassed that he saw how worried you were for him.

You stand there in silence for a second while Bucky turns to look at you, the smirk on his face definitely real. You blush, cursing your body for how it reacts to his gaze, while Steve clears his throat.

"Why don’t we give you guys a minute..." he ushers everyone to the front of the jet, almost having to wrestle Tony to take him away from what he called 'his new favorite show'.

Bucky extends his right hand for you to take and you do as you get closer, your left hand going to carefully place the ice on the back of his head.

He hisses a little at the contact and you wince, giving him an apologetic smile, but his eyes never leave yours and his hand squeezes yours, letting you know he’s okay.

"I’m sorry." That's all you can say and, whatever you were expecting him to answer, it was definitely not what he says next.

"You should be." you bite your lip to stop it from trembling, your emotions getting the best of you and your guilt only growing, but he keeps going, "You distracted me. You’ve never said my name before, and it was the sweetest sound to ever come out of your mouth. Shame on you for keeping it from me for so long, doll."

He brings you closer to him, taking your hand in his left, his right going around your waist as he rests his chin on your stomach while looking up at you, your left hand still holding the ice to the back of his head.

You giggle at the puppy look he’s giving you, trying to resist the urge of leaning down and kissing him.

"Smooth, Barnes." he laughs with you, before growing more serious.

"You looked really worried." you feel your emotions bubbling up again.

"I was…" you say, your voice small "I’m sorry you got hurt because of me" you're basically whispering, afraid that if you raise your voice any louder the tears you’d been trying so hard to hold off will start falling.

"It’s not your fault, doll." before you can protest, he keeps going "and I’m fine. We’re all fine. I just took a little nap."

You roll your eyes at his attempt at a joke but can’t hide the smile starting to form on your face while he gives you a grin of his own.

You're so lost in his eyes that you almost forget about the reason all of this happened.

You let go of his hand and he gives you a confused look with a slight pout on his lips that just makes you smile more.

"Bucky," you start, taking the little box out of your pocket, but he interrupts you with an exaggerated gasp.

"Are you asking me to marry you, doll? Because, don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered, but maybe we should go on a date first." you can't help but laugh as you gave him a little shove, careful not to hurt him more.

"I’m not asking you to marry me, you jackass." you get more serious as you look at the box in your hand.

You don’t even realize you're biting your lip until Bucky reaches up and tugs it out. You look back at him and feel weirdly nervous, not knowing how he'll react.

"I found this at the base, and I’m pretty sure it belongs to you" you laugh a little out of nerves as he lets go of you to take the box and opens it.

He lets out a real gasp this time, fishing out the tags and holding them in his flesh hand, his face unreadable.

He looks back up at you and for a second your brain goes to the worst case scenario in which there's a lot of blood and screaming, but that image is quickly forgotten as Bucky gives you the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on his face.

He places his hands behind your thighs and effortlessly moves you to straddle him, his movements so fast that you drop the ice pack out of surprise, but you don’t have time to do much as Bucky starts peppering kisses all over your face.

Your surprise turns into giggles and he slowly stops his assault, the smile never living his face, the look on his eyes that of pure adoration. "Thank you, doll… You don’t know what this means to me."

You don’t know if you’re imagining it, but you think Bucky’s starting to lean up and you think he’s about to kiss you when you hear a whistle followed by a slapping sound and an “ow”.

You both turn towards the sound to find the whole team looking at you two, Steve has a smirk on his face, Tony’s next to him, rubbing the back of his head and the rest of them are snickering.

"Seriously?!" your irritation does nothing to hide your blush, Bucky’s own embarrassment clear as he hides his face in your chest. 

"What? Capsicle said a minute, we gave you a minute!" Tony said, earning another slap on the back of his head from Steve.

"Just go away!" you say laughing and they all go back to the front of the jet but you can hear their little laughs while they whisper, making you roll your eyes before looking down at Bucky who’s already looking up at you.

"Can you do me a favor, doll?" he asks you and you nod.

"Anything."

"I’d hate to lose these. Hold on to them for me?" he says, holding up his dog tags.

"Are you sure?" you ask uncertainly as he puts them around your neck.

"I’m more than sure." he says while looking at them on your chest and then looking back into your eyes, his smile impossibly big and you’re sure yours looks the same.

He wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you closer and you wrap one arm around his neck, your other hand going to play with the tags around your neck. You’re looking down at them when Bucky speaks again.

"So," He starts, his smile becoming a teasing smirk. "you think my ass is cute, huh?"

You groan, hiding your face in the crook of his neck while he laughs at your reaction.

You can hear the others laughing too and can’t help the laugh that comes out of you, more sure now than ever that everything is gonna be okay.

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

After All This Time | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hello! Who wants to have their feelings hurt?! 🙋🏻‍♀️ I love some good angst, some pain, some emotional turmoil. 

Warnings: relationship drama, references to violence, arguments, crying, ex!Bucky

“What are you doing here?” You stared at Bucky, shocked. Perplexed. He had no business at your apartment. Especially not so late at night. Especially not after what he’d done. The way he’d treated you. It took a long time- too long- to achieve some sense of normalcy after things fell apart. After he broke your heart. You weren’t over him; you feared you never would be. But you finally arrived at something that resembled stability. You were nearly okay- nearly.

But Bucky’s unexpected presence took you out at the knees. Was he always this beautiful? Or did you just miss him? His hair was a bit longer, his stubble a little scruffier. His deep blue eyes softened at the sight of you. No, he was always this beautiful. Dammit.

His expression was stern. Serious. Just like it had been when he left. He’d promised you he’d never come back. “Can I come in?” He was a liar, apparently.

“What? No.”

Bucky breezed past you anyway.

You crossed your arms over your chest, hiding the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra. Your arms hugged your body, crisscrossing over your old college shirt. Thank god you hadn’t opted to wear one of the many henleys he’d left behind. The humiliation of him seeing you in one of his old shirts would’ve been too much. You knew you shouldn’t wear them anymore, but you couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop yourself from cloaking your body in the comfort they provided. It was sad, maybe even a little pathetic. But you didn’t know how to stop.

“Hey- You can’t just barge into my apartment-”

“Shut the door.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “No. What do you- get out.”

Bucky closed and locked the door for you. His fingers twisted the key in the deadbolt and fastened the chain. He even pulled on the door once- then twice. It was secure. He positioned his body in front of it- either blocking your way out or someone else’s way in. You weren’t sure which.

“Go pack a bag. We’re leaving here in five minutes.” He checked his watch, “Sooner, if you can manage it.” He looked up from his wrist and finally let himself drink you in. Were you always this breathtaking? Or was he just happy to see you? Your skin glowed in the yellow light of your reading lamp. Your hair was shorter now- he liked it. Yeah, you were always this intoxicating. Bucky wondered how he could even question it.

“Are you out of your mind? We’re not going anywhere.” Anger was easier. Easier than sadness, than heartbreak. You let wrath wrap itself around your heart, shielding you from the pain. Bucky didn’t belong in your home anymore, no matter how badly you wished he did. He didn’t want to be here- he didn’t want you. He’d made that painfully clear.

And though part of you liked seeing him here, existing in the home you once shared, you knew it would only serve to hurt you. Your voice was quieter this time, less confident, “You need to leave.”

He let out a huff, as though he had the right to be annoyed with you. “Just trust me on this,”,

“Trust you? That’s hilarious-”

“You’re not safe here,” he said. His tone was firm, irrefutable. “Someone attacked Pepper and Morgan. Clint’s wife, Laura, and their kids. Murdock’s associate- that guy Nelson.”

A burst of worry shot through you, “Shit. Are they okay?”

“They’re fine. They’ve all been relocated.” He wondered how you could worry about others while bypassing any concern for yourself. But the distress on your face was real; you’d gotten close with the families of the team before Bucky left. They welcomed you like one of their own, and your care for them survived even after things with Bucky died.

“Sam is taking his sister and her kids somewhere- everyone’s moving their loved ones.”

Silence. You waited for Bucky to elaborate. He waited for you to put the pieces together.

“So… why are you here? What does any of that have to do with me?”

“Hydra. They’re coming after our lov-” Bucky cleared his throat, “the people in our lives.”

You shook your head, “Yeah, I get that. But I’m not in your life.”

Bucky knew you weren’t his anymore, but hearing you say it cut him to the bone.

The strong façade you wore threatened to crumble. This was too much for you- almost cruel. Back when things were good, they were really good. You planned on staying with Bucky forever. You saw yourself marrying him, spending the rest of your days together. He’d had other plans. He left you. And never looked back.

“I’m fine here,” you told him. “I don’t need you.”

Bucky struggled for words. This was harder than he thought. “Well… they- they don’t know that we...” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. “Hydra, I mean, they don’t know what um, what happened. We were pretty public- they might think we’re still together. So, I need to get you to a safe house. Just in case.”

“Why?” The question hung heavy in the air.

Bucky didn’t say a word.

“Since when do you care? Don’t act like I matter to you all of a sudden- don’t pretend that you’re worried about me.” You forced every ounce of emotion behind an impenetrable wall, “leave. I’m serious, I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“You’re in danger. And I…” He ran a hand through his hair “Just come with me. Let me protect you.”

“I’m not yours to protect.” The stinging sensation of approaching tears burned behind your eyes. “So… you can go.”

Your words gutted him. He hadn’t felt this much pain since he left, since the last time he saw you. He’d left you alone in the apartment you once shared. He’d shut the door and stood on the other side, unable to walk away. His forehead rested against the wood, and he listened to you. The sound of you sobbing- wailing- drove stakes into his chest. But he knew it was better this way.

“Yeah, I know that…” he said, his voice softer now. “But your family, your friends- they’ll be devastated if something happens to you. Don’t do that to them. Come with me. And when this blows over, I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”

You hated that he was right. To let your pride endanger your life was selfish, stupid. You could practically hear your mom telling you to go with him.

But there was a side of you would rather die at the hands of Hydra than share a safe house with Bucky. Sure, you missed him. A lot. You wished he’d never walked out that door. But spending days- or weeks- with him? Just the two of you? In a secluded location? It would tear you to pieces.

You grumbled under your breath, “fine. How long will we be gone?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay, then- where are we going?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know. Coordinates will be sent to the jet once we board.”

“Okay, great. Perfect. I don’t know how much to pack. I don’t know what kind of clothes I need. Awesome. Thanks, James.” You turned on your heel and headed toward your bedroom, “I’ll be out in a minute.”

James. James. You’d never called him James. Ever. Not even in a joking sense. He was always Bucky or Buck or Barnes or baby- depending on the context. Never James. It was so impersonal, you regarding him by his government name. So cold. Distant. He knew he deserved it- deserved way worse. But it stung, nonetheless.

With you busy in the other room, Bucky drank in the warmth of your apartment. It was inviting, cozy. Just like always. You’d gotten a few new pieces of art since he left; they took up the spaces left empty by the photos you removed. The picture of the two of you from a Stark gala. A strip of the two of you laughing in a photo booth at the pier. A polaroid of him kissing your cheek at Sam’s birthday party. He wondered what you did with them. Did you still have them- somewhere? Did you hide them away in a dusty box under the bed he used to share with you?

Or did you burn them?

He missed living there. Missed waking up next to you, missed making dinner for you. Missed you.

“Hey, I’m sorry to call so late…” you said into your phone, cradling it between your ear and your shoulder. “I’m gonna have to work from, um- I have to leave town for a little while.”

Bucky heard you on the phone with your boss, doing your best to lie your way through the situation. But you didn’t give much detail, just like he’d taught you when you first started dating. He told you never to trust anyone fully- never to believe that someone is worthy of every secret. He’d been speaking about outsiders. But when he left, he proved to you that no one deserved your trust. Not even him.

“Yeah, just family stuff,” he heard you say. “My cousin has been sick and took a turn for the worst, so… I need to be there just in case.”

He was so proud.

You stuffed clothes into a bag and rounded up the necessary toiletries. Your laptop, headphones, and a few books made the cut, and you grabbed the bag’s zipper, prepared to give it a final yank. But as you tried to close it up, a piece of fabric caught your eye. You let out a deep sigh. You’d moved on instinct, grabbing things from your closet and dresser without thinking. And some of Bucky’s old clothes had found their way among your items.

A flannel, two henleys, and a sweatshirt sat nestled at the bottom of your bag. They were some of your favorite things to wear- soft, comfortable, cozy. But you couldn’t bring them with you. Not when there was a chance Bucky would see them. You quickly swapped them out with pieces that didn’t belong to him and thanked the universe you’d noticed before it was too late.

When you emerged moments later with duffel bag in hand, Bucky was waiting for you. He hadn’t moved from his spot by the door. Hadn’t taken off his jacket. He wasn’t welcome here anymore. And making himself at home wasn’t right.

“Uh, here’s this,” he outstretched a hand in your direction and offered you a phone. “We can’t be sure that your phone isn’t being tracked. So, you have to leave yours here. This is a burner- just for emergencies.”

You dropped your phone on the counter with a dramatic groan and took the burner from his hand. Not only were you to be trapped for an indeterminant amount of time with the man who ripped your heart out of your chest and eviscerated it in front of your eyes- but you also had to give up your phone. “This feels like a kidnapping.”

“Yeah. Sorry.” He made a move for your bag, “I can take that for you-”

“I got it”.

With a nod, he opened the door and checked the hall for potential dangers. And when he deemed it safe, he gestured for you to join him. He watched you lock the door- and smiled to himself when he realized you still used the same key. You never changed the locks after he left.

“This is the most conspicuous thing I’ve ever seen…” A jet sat on the roof of your building, just a few feet from the stairwell. “If Hydra didn’t know where I was before, they definitely do now.”

Bucky gave an awkward laugh, paired with a quiet “yeah”, and tried to help you board. But you shied away from any attempts as assistance. You needed to prove to Bucky that you didn’t need him anymore- no matter how untrue it was.

The flight was awkward. Quiet. Tense. You couldn’t escape to the back of the jet and hide from Bucky- there was no ‘back’. It was a small aircraft. Only enough room for two. It forced you to sit next to him, watching clouds paint with windows with their condensation as the jet sliced through the sky.

“So…” Bucky said after a while, “how’ve you been?”

You quieted him with a look.

The answer to his question was complicated- you didn‘t have the emotional energy to explain. Diving into how angry and miserable and lonely you’d been since his departure would take hours. Maybe days. And he didn’t deserve the inside scoop. He wasn’t welcome to your secrets or the inner workings of your mind- not anymore.

“We’re here…” Bucky said, his voice pulling you from your light sleep. You didn’t realize you’d nodded off. But sleep was the only escape from the painfully awkward situation he’d put you in.

“Okay, so…” Bucky opened the door to the house and gestured for you to enter before him. Still such a gentleman. “I know this place is kinda small. But I’m gonna do my best to not be in your space.” He flipped on a few lights and bathed the house in a warm yellow light. “They promised that the kitchen is stocked. I think there’s firewood somewhere in case we get cold. And there should be clean sheets and towels and stuff in a closet somewhere. As for the, um…” He cleared his throat, “the sleeping arrangements. There’s only one bedroom, so it’s yours- I’m gonna take the couch.”

He threw his bag over the back of the couch and watched it bounce against the cushions. “Let me know if you need anything.”

What you needed, he couldn’t give you. He couldn’t go back in time and reverse the effects of breaking your heart. He couldn’t rid you of the agony brought on by his absence. And so, with a curt nod, you bid him goodnight.

It was nearly three in the morning by the time you made the bed and crawled beneath the covers. You curled into a ball and pulled the blankets up over your head, as though protecting yourself. This had to be a joke. A prank. The wound Bucky’s departure caused had barely scabbed over- and his return flayed it wide open. It throbbed and ached as you cried under the safety of your blankets. You didn’t know what you’d done in a past life to deserve hurt like this.

Bucky collapsed onto the couch. He slumped forward and rested his head in his hands, replaying every moment since you opened the door. The look on your face when you saw him again, the disdain in your voice, the distrust you held for him- it made his chest ache. He hated himself for throwing away the best thing he’d ever had. For hurting you. For breaking the trust you’d built together.

He didn’t sleep that night- the pain didn’t let him. He, instead, remained awake. Wired. He cleaned his guns. Double and triple checked his supply of ammo. He made sure every window was locked, every door secure. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to you.

The following day passed slowly. Bucky made enough breakfast for both of you, and kept your portion warm while he did the dishes and waited for you to wake. But you never joined him. You remained holed up in your room, miserable.

You didn’t care about Hydra; they couldn’t hurt you more than Bucky already had. Sure, they could beat you senseless and bleed you dry. They could torture you and hold you hostage. But it simply couldn’t compare. Physical injuries heal. They scab over and turn to scars. But the pain Bucky caused never ceased. The wound bled day and night. His mark on you could never be fixed.

Only when your hunger pangs grew painful did you leave the safety of your room.

“Hey, I made breakfast…” Bucky said when you finally emerged, “I tried to keep yours warm but- it’s in the fridge if you want it. I know it’s well past breakfast time and you probably don’t want cold spinach scramble and hashbrowns, but-”

He was being so nice;  he still remembered your favorite breakfast. You thought back on all the Sunday mornings you’d spent together, making breakfast and listening to music. Drinking coffee. Dancing in the kitchen until the food almost burned. But you banished the memories. And sent away the warm feelings brought on by Bucky cooking for you again.

You didn’t make eye contact, didn’t thank him. Instead, you rummaged through the cabinets until you found a jar of peanut butter and a loaf of bread. “I’ll make something for myself,” you told him.

“Oh- okay, yeah. Knives are in the drawer to your left.” Bucky felt himself hovering. He stood across the kitchen island from you like an expectant child hoping for the approval of a stern parent. He knew he’d never get it, didn’t deserve it. But he couldn’t help himself. Being so close to you felt good. Really good. And though he’d promised he wouldn’t invade your space, he found it impossible to walk away.

You, however, couldn’t get away fast enough. You hastily made a sandwich and grabbed a glass of water before retreating to you room, safe from Bucky’s gaze. With the door shut, you allowed yourself to sink down to the floor. A gnawing sense of soul-crushing sadness eclipsed any feelings of hunger. But you forced the sandwich down anyway. You swore to yourself that everything would be okay, that you’d go home soon enough and try once again to heal.  

But you didn’t believe your own words.

Bucky hated how uncomfortable you were around him. It was his fault, and he knew it, but it made him sad all the same. At one time, he’d been the person you loved most. The person you  cared for. The one you could trust. You knew, without a doubt, that you could go to him with anything. Any problem, any worry- no matter how small. And he’d find a way to make it better. And if he couldn’t fix it, he could at least make you smile. He could bring you comfort and make you feel safe. Loved. He was the only one you wanted. The only person for you. His soul and yours were forged in the same fire- just a few decades apart.

But that fire was dead- snuffed out. And Bucky no longer held the secret key to your heart. He brought you only anguish and anxiety. Torment. Agony. And he hated himself for it.

He wondered if you’d spent all your time hiding in that bedroom. He wouldn’t blame you if you did. You weren’t happy around him like you used to be- why would you subject yourself to such unpleasant feelings unless it were absolutely necessary? He resolved to give you as much space as possible, to leave the room when you made your way to the kitchen. To not hover. Anything to make you more comfortable.

And if that meant that he didn’t get to speak to you for the remainder of your time in hiding, then so be it.

That night, however, he got to speak to you again.

He didn’t rest the night of your arrival, not even for a moment. And it finally got to him. He turned in early, falling asleep on the floor in front of the fireplace. The last few embers glowed orange beneath the charred wood, but all warmth was gone. His sleeping form tossed and turned beneath a thin blanket. Droplets of sweat bloomed from his skin as heaving breaths forced their way into his chest.

A familiar sound woke you in the middle of the night. You hadn’t heard it in quite some time, but knew you’d never forget it. Bucky was having a nightmare. And before you had a moment to rethink your actions, you were up. You ditched your bedding and fled in the direction of his screams.

And he woke to the soft sound of your voice.

“Bucky, hey…” you placed your hands on his shoulders. “Hey, wake up. Bucky-”

His eyes flew open and quickly focused on your face. And though your presence brought a relief he hadn’t experienced in what felt like years, it was too late. His heart hammered against his ribs; his lungs burned. He couldn’t breathe.

“You’re okay. You’re alright. Here-” One of your hands migrated from his shoulder to his chest while the other searched for one of his. You dragged his hand upward and mirrored the placement, pressing his palm to your sternum. It was muscle memory, a deep-seeded reflex you didn’t know you still had. You used to do it every night- back when Bucky was still yours. He liked it. He said it made him feel like you were synching your heartbeat with his. And it always calmed him down.

Bucky let loose a deep sigh of relief. It seemed to come from somewhere else completely, like he’d been holding his breath since the last time he touched you. Your pulse beat strong and steady beneath his hand, thudding against his palm like his own personal metronome. And maybe it was all in his head, but he felt his own heartrate slow. He breathed easier. A smile pricked at the corners of his mouth.

But you pulled away all too soon.

Bucky sat up in pursuit of your recoiling hand, “Thank you…”

“Yeah.” You stood, hoping to make it back to your room before the tears began to fall. But Bucky’s words stopped you.

“I really- I really appreciate you waking me. And doing… that. For me.” He felt himself growing sheepish, but couldn’t let the encroaching embarrassment get the best of him. “I missed it- I missed you.”

Something in you snapped.

You turned toward him with a strange mixture of anger and pain burning behind your eyes, your breathing growing ever sharper.

“Why am I here?” Your tone was calm, measured. It was the kind of rage that turned your words to ice. To stone.

He cocked his head to the side, “um, because of Hydra. Because you’re in danger…”

“But why am I here?” You felt yourself losing control, “You heard they were going after the team’s loved ones and you thought to yourself, ‘hmm, that girl I completely destroyed, that girl whose life I ruined, that girl who I most certainly do not love, that girl I left for no reason, she’s in danger! Hydra will probably go after her, you know, since I haven’t seen her or spoken to her in almost a year!’”

Bucky didn’t know what to say.

“This makes no fucking sense, James!”

James. You’d let one or two ‘Buckys’ slip earlier- never again.

“Why did you come to my apartment? Why did you fucking kidnap me and bring me to this stupid house? Why did you put me on the same tier as Tony’s wife? As Clint’s wife? We aren’t together, I’m not in your life, and I’m certainly not a ‘loved one’- you made that painfully clear.  Why did you-”

“Because I still love you”

You rolled your tear-filled eyes, “Don’t you fucking lie to me.”

“I’m not lying…” Bucky sighed. “I swear on my life.”

An ugly scoff broke free from your throat, “I’m supposed to believe that? You once ‘swore on your life’ that you’d never hurt me. And that shit clearly wasn’t true, so-”

“I swear on Steve’s life. I swear on his grave,” Bucky’s voice wavered ever so slightly. “I still love you. I never stopped.”

It rendered you speechless.

“I never wanted to hurt you. And I didn’t want to leave. But I didn’t know what else to do.”

You stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded. “You ‘didn’t know what else to do’? You left me because you ‘didn’t know what else to do’?”

Bucky shook his head. Regret pooled in his chest, and he wished to take back every stupid word. “That’s not what I meant-” he sighed. “I mean… I’m- I’m not meant for this. To be with someone. To be loved. Bad stuff- really bad stuff- follows me around. The war and the train and Hydra and Zemo and Thanos and the blip and the Flag Smashers and-”

He fought to catch his breath. “I break things. Anything I touch- it gets ruined.” He paused for a moment. Everything inside his head moved too fast. It blurred past him and fell from his lips before he had a chance to make edits. And if he was going to fix this, he needed to be in control.

“I never wanted to break you. Or put you in danger.”

“You never hurt me- physically…” you said. “You know I was never scared of you- I didn’t think I was ever in danger with you. I didn’t think you’d break me-”

“No, I know. I know.” Getting to that point had been hard for him. He shied away from you for so long, scared he’d somehow make you bleed or paint your skin with bruises. But you’d worked with him. You showed him patience and moved at his pace, working through the fear he held.

“What I mean is… I got scared because people knew about us. Our relationship was public. And I was afraid that putting you in the public eye like that would invite danger. A lot of people hate me- they want revenge. Retribution. So I thought…” he rolled his eyes at his past-self, at the version of him who let you get away. “I thought removing myself from your life would ensure your safety.” He shrugged, “no one would have reason to come after you if we weren’t together-”

“And look where we are now…” you said, “Hiding. In a safehouse. Because my life is in jeopardy.” Part of you- the soft side- wanted to show him mercy. To hold him and make him feel safe. To console him. But the side of you who wore brass knuckles and steel toed bootsa prevailed, “That was a really fucking stupid thing to do…”

Bucky gave a pained chuckle, “yeah, I- I know.” His cheeks reddened ever so slightly, and his shoulders slumped with shame. He knew he fucked up. “I’m sorry. About all of it. About leaving. About hurting you- God, I never wanted to hurt you.” The pain in his eyes could’ve made you crumble.

“And I’m sorry about putting you in harm’s way. About abducting you like this.” He took a small step in your direction; he couldn’t pretend like he wasn’t drawn to you. But he knew he had no right to exist in such close proximity to the person he hurt. And so he stopped himself, no matter how badly he wished he didn’t have to.

“But to answer your question with full honesty…” he said,  “you’re here because I love you. Because I’ll always love you. And even though you hate my guts- which you absolutely should- I care about you. And I want to keep you safe, as safe as I can. I want to protect you.” He let out a sigh, “And I know you’re not… you’re not mine to protect, but-” The words tasted like vinegar. If Bucky thought hearing them hurt, he was wrong. Saying them was far worse. “you’re here because I would rather die than let anything happen to you.”

He didn’t like the way your shoulders were yanked up near your ears, the way your arms sat crossed over your chest- like you were trying to protect yourself. But he understood. He’d hurt you- badly. Left you gutted and bleeding. He knew you’d never trust another thing he said- rightfully so.

Silent tears flowed freely down your cheeks and dripped down your neck. The weight of Bucky’s words forced you to lean against the nearest wall. Everything your friends said about him, everything your family told you- it was wrong. He wasn’t apathetic. He wasn’t inconsiderate or manipulative. He was just misguided- maybe a little stupid.

“I told myself…” you finally said, “for months, I told myself that you never loved me. That you used me to make yourself feel better.”

Bucky vehemently shook his head, “that’s not-”

“What was I supposed to do? I needed something to make me feel better…” you said. “It was easier to think that you never loved me. But you left me because you loved me? That’s- that was a terrible idea, by the way.”

“I know…”

A fresh wave of tears cascaded from your eyes and left droplets on your shirt. “I want… I want to believe you. I want to believe every nice thing you just said and pick up right where we left off. But I’m…” You pulled the sleeves of your shirt over your hands and wiped the tears from your cheeks, “I’m scared- I’m scared to trust you again. To let my guard down.”

Bucky took another small step in your direction. “That’s fine, that’s… understandable- more than understandable. Smart.”

You nodded.

“And I don’t want you to think- I’m not telling you all of this to convince you to get back together with me. Or to upset you- I never want to hurt you again. You just deserve to know the truth. So…”

He wondered how the two of you got to this point. How you went from domestic bliss to something so ugly. But he knew exactly how it happened- it was his fault. And he didn’t deserve a second chance. He deserved to be alone for the rest of his life while you moved on, found someone new- someone better. He wanted that for you. Of course, he’d rather have you all to himself. But it wasn’t right.

“It’s just- I’ve been regretting… well, everything, since the moment I left. I wish I would’ve talked to you, you know? I wish I was honest. I wish I told you what was going on inside my head.” He ran a hand through his hair, “maybe things would’ve been different.”

“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to hear you say these things…” you said. “But now that you’re saying them it feels…” The floor rocked beneath your feet. You teetered to the side and reached for the arm of the couch- it was all too much. The lack of sleep, the emotional exhaustion, the weight of Bucky’s words. You needed to sit.

Bucky reached for you, desperate to help you steady yourself- but he pulled away. He didn’t have permission to touch you. Not anymore.

“Things absolutely would’ve been different,” you let out a deep sigh. Every possible outcome you came up with ended far better than the reality. “Because we would’ve worked through it together. As a team. And no one would’ve gotten hurt.”

All Bucky could do was nod.

“And maybe we’d still end up in this safe house, but we’d probably use it as a makeshift romantic getaway instead of an agonizingly awkward prison sentence.”

The thought brought a smile to Bucky’s face, to yours. It was easy to imagine the two of you camped out in the living room, reading by the fire and drinking old-fashioneds. You’d stay up late watching movies together and sleep until noon. And when the threat was eliminated, you’d almost wish for more danger- anything to keep the two of you in your own little world.

Everything went quiet. Neither of you knew what to say- or if there were any words appropriate for the situation. Was there even anything else to be said? Part of you wanted to retreat to your bedroom. To hide under your covers. But you wouldn’t allow yourself to squander this moment.

A sad smile pulled at your lips. “I don’t know where… where are we supposed to go from here?” You stared at Bucky as though he had all the answers, as though it wasn’t him who burned your world to the ground.

“I don’t think we have to go anywhere,” he said. “Nothing has to change between us- like I said, I’m not trying to change your opinion about me or make you feel bad. When this whole thing blows over, I’ll take you home. I’ll stay out of your hair.” He leaned against the wall opposite you, submitting to his future- and to his past, “I know I can’t change what I did.”

Another long silence filled the space. It pushed its way in between the two of you and rested heavy against your chest. Bucky waited for a curt ‘okay’ or a quick ‘goodnight’, but no such thing came.

“What if I don’t want that?” you said after a while.

He pushed away from the wall, as though your words pulled him upright. “What?”

“What if I want to try again?” Your heart thundered against your chest, growing faster and faster with each passing second.  You stood on the precipice, willing yourself to fall. This was your chance, the opportunity you’d hoped for. And though it sent fear coursing through your veins, you knew you had to jump.

“No matter how many times I tell myself that you hurt me for the fun of it or that you never actually loved me, I don’t believe it. I can’t- even if I want to…” you let out a sad laugh. “Because I know who you are- I know what we had was real. And I think- I know it’s worth trying again.”

A quick flash of pain and anxiety tore through you, hollowing your chest, “And yeah, maybe I’m stupid for being overly optimistic or letting myself be vulnerable with you. But I’m… I’m willing to risk getting hurt all over again.”

Bucky stood stone still, rooted in place. This was all he’d ever wanted. But now that he had it, he feared the thing his heart desired most. What if he fucked up again? What if he hurt you again? What if he squandered his  second chance?

“Are you…” Bucky took a deep breath, “are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Because you’re the only person I’ll ever want, Buck. Because I love you.”

Bucky never thought he’d hear those words again. And before he knew it, he was on the ground in front of you. He sunk to his knees, incapable of standing any longer. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. His tears dampened your skin as he let his head fall against your thighs. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you as close as he possible could. He feared you’d change your mind, that you’d take back everything you said. And if you did, he at least wanted to know that he held you. That he touched you one last time.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry- you have no idea how sorry I am”, he said between sharp breaths. “I’m gonna make it up to you. I’m gonna make it all up to you, okay? I promise. I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving to you that I love you, that I’d rather die than lose you again. And I’m-”

“Okay, hey… let’s relax a bit.” You met him on the floor and pulled his head against your chest. You ran a hand along his back, soothing him. His shaky breaths were so sharp, so ragged, that they seemed almost painful. “Breathe, Buck. I love you, okay? And I know you love me- I know. You don’t have to prove it.”

Bucky tried to deliver a rebuttal, but you wouldn’t allow it.

“Hey- it’s okay. We’re okay.” You tangled your fingers in his hair, eliciting a deep sigh from his chest. “We’re both tired. And emotional. Let’s just go to sleep, okay? It’s the middle of the night- we can talk things through in the morning.” You gently pulled his head from your chest and swiped the tears from his cheeks. Touching him again, holding him, provided the salve you needed. The wound in your chest started healing. The pain ceased. And for the first time in almost a year, you felt whole.

Your hands found Bucky’s and pulled him up right. With a gentle tug, you led him in the direction of your room.

“Come on,” you said, “let’s go to bed, baby.”

--------------------------------------

Tag list: @beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality  @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy @mrsdrysdale18 @lonewolf471 @dreamerglassesgirl l @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @purpleshallot @duchessoftheheart @seitmai @itvy5601 @hisxsoulmate @dailyreverie  @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @masteroflightningz @evangeliamerryll  @buckys-metal-arm @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions​ @lokisasgardianvampirequeen​ @vrittivsanghavi @idkitsem@avengetheunnatural @rassvetsky​

[oneforthemunny]

could i request some mafia!eddie pregnancy angst?

baby blues |mafia!eddie munson x pregnant!reader|

prompt: you're pregnant. eddie's scared. he does what he always does when he's scared; he runs.

contains: mafia!eddie so mafia themes, some mentions of violence and drugs, pregnant reader, unplanned pregnancy, angst angst angst, parental fears, past trauma mentions, fluff-ish at the end (you guys know I have to make it happy or I'll throw up lol)

Eddie had always heard about time standing still, frozen in fear, the Earth unmoving and stilling all around you. He'd seen it happen to others, sometimes he was the one inflicting it. Yet somehow, he'd never experienced it. Not even when he was staring down the barrel of a gun, a bullet lodging himself in his lungs.

Not until now.

Standing in the marble bathroom, your fingers at your lips, anxiously chewing on your nails, arm wrapped around your midsection protectively.

Suddenly, Eddie felt like he was under water, ears ringing and roaring, your muffled voice that he couldn't bring himself to register the words. He felt his breath leave him, one final push of air out of his mouth, heart stilling to a stop in his chest.

The pregnancy test on the counter. Positive.

Two beady red lines that ran down the test and straight to Eddie's nervous system, shocking him back into reality. "Eddie," You sighed, heavy, a little nervous- begging. Begging him to look at you, say something, anything to you.

Eddie blinked up at you, eyes far too wide and scared. Not the usual poker face Eddie held in times of fear. Oh no, that was gone. Gone was the rationality, the stoic expression he kept for you. Eddie was scared.

"Eddie, please. I-I know it's not what we wanted," Your breath stuttered. Of course it wasn't what you wanted. Neither one of you really ever planned on kids. It wasn't in the cards with this lifestyle. More importantly, with the danger that came with this life.

"Can you... Can you say something, please?" You whimpered, your hand curling into your sweater, grabbing at the material there over your stomach.

Eddie swallowed hard, eyes flickering from the counter back to you. "I-I don't know what to say." He admitted. That was true. His mind had gone vacant with fear, his own heartbeat in his ears was deafening, making it very difficult for him to think of much of anything.

Your lip quivered, fists balling beside you. "I'm sorry..." You muttered, unsure of what else to say. "I-I don't know how this happened. I went to get my shot and I was... I was on schedule and," You stuttered, heart shattering in your own chest. "And I don't know what to do, Ed."

Eddie didn't console you. Didn't wrap you up in his arms and tell you everything would be alright. Didn't tell you he'd handle it or not to worry, that the two of you would figure it out. Not like he'd done before.

No, this time. He just stood there. Just as unsure and scared as you.

***

"Rick," Ladonna's voice carried down the hall, her heels clacking with every step behind her. "Honey, someone's here for you."

Rick huffed, pushing out from under his desk. "Don, I'm busy. Can you tell them I'm not-" Rick wasn't expecting to see Eddie there. All curly hair and wide eyes despite the heavy bags under them.

Rick flinched, looking from his wife back to Eddie. "Jesus, kid, you look like shit." He muttered, scanning his frame.

Ladonna glared at him over Eddie's shoulder, patting his back gently before excusing herself. "Did we have a meeting or something? I didn't have anything down but-"

"-I need to talk to you." Eddie said, urgent but not shrill. An eery calm that had Rick's shoulders tensing, eyes cutting around out of instinct.

"Yeah?" Rick hummed, shoving his hands in his pockets, trying to appear as cool and level headed as he could. "'bout what? What's wrong?"

"About my dad." Eddie said bluntly, eyes blinking. He looked young, like a scared teenager again.

Rick's heart lurched at the mention of Clint, mouth opening then closing. He let out a slow sigh, nodding gently. "Sure." He pushed the door to his office open, letting Eddie walk in.

Eddie didn't look around at the spacious walls or at the art lining them. No, he'd been in here too many times before, seen it before, and he was too scared to be interested. Instead, he sat on the couch, perched on the edge, hands clasped in front of him and knee bouncing.

Rick hadn't seen the kid like this in a while. Not since he first started, anxious that he'd fucked up when he'd shot someone trying to rob him. "So," Rick propped himself across from Eddie, sinking into the chair. "You want to know about your dad?"

Eddie nodded, hands pressed together in a white knuckled grasp, knee bouncing furiously, faster and faster at the mention. "Any reason why?" Rick pressed, eyes scanning over Eddie.

Eddie's breathing hitched, running a hand over his face, refusing to meet Rick's eyes. "I just... I need to know what he did." Eddie admitted with a shaky sigh.

Rick raised a brow. "You know what he did." He replied simply. "He handled the messy shit. Me and him both, actually, under David."

"No, I mean..." Eddie shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "What did he... How-How did he fuck up?" Eddie lifted his eyes, leg stilling entirely. The room was uncomfortably silent. "What did he do wrong?"

Rick leaned back, the chair groaning slightly. He watched Eddie, how he rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans, the rings on his fingers catching his eye. Specifically on his third finger, the way he twirled it around his digit with his thumb, fiddling with it anxiously.

Rick sighed heavily out his nose, nodding slowly. "So," He started, leaning forward. "Your girl's pregnant, isn't she?"

Eddie stilled, eyes widening in a dead giveaway. "How-How did you even-"

Rick shrugged, cutting him off. "Ed, you come to me, asking about your dad. You look like shit, like you're about to fucking give out on me at any moment. So either you're being haunted by Clint, or your girl is pregnant. Which is it?"

Eddie's throat bobbed, a hard swallow. "S-She just told me yesterday."

Rick's eyes bulged. "And you left?" He boomed. "Jesus Christ, kid, did you fucking tell her you were leaving?" Eddie's silence was answer enough. "For fuckssake, Ed. Your girl is pregnant and you run? What kind of bum does that?"

"I'm scared, ok!" Eddie exploded, jumping to his feet, arms out in exasperation, voice echoing off the walls. "I-I don't even know what to do, ok? I don't know why I left, I don't know why I'm here, and I don't... fuck, Rick, I don't know how to be a dad."

Rick watched him, his lips pressing together, eyes shining. He'd seen Eddie go head to head with guys double his side, not batting an eye once. He'd seen him get questioned by the feds, too calm and cool for them to crack him ever. Yet here he was, petrified, begging Rick for some sort of answers he wasn't sure he had.

"You wanna know what your dad did wrong?" Rick asked, calmly. "Clint was sloppy."

"Rick, I'm not talking about work. I mean-"

"- He was sloppy at his job, but he was sloppy as a dad, too." Rick said, jaw flexing gently. Eddie's shoulders deflated, blinking at him curiously. "You were young, and your mom... she was great, Ed. She did everything she could to keep you safe, but Clint... Clint was an alcoholic and a junkie who was too busy shoving half the stash up his nose to be a good dad or a good husband."

Eddie's heart dropped, sinking lower and lower into his chest. Rick sighed. "I know that's not what you want to hear. No kid wants to hear their dad's a piece of shit, even if you knew it. It's still shit to hear, but it's true."

"Great. Just great." Eddie threw his hands up. "I'm gonna fuck this kid up just like him and-"

"- Now, hold on." Rick stood, brow furrowed in challenge at Eddie. "When did I say that, huh? I never said that shit, kid. Don't be putting words in my mouth." The hard glare, stoic and serious flashed over Eddie's eyes for a moment before Rick continued.

"You want the truth? My honest to God opinion? Fine." Rick paused, taking a step closer to Eddie. "The fact that you're here. The fact that you're worried about becoming like your dad, worried about being a good dad, worried about keeping them both safe. That's enough to prove to me, that you're not gonna be like your dad."

Eddie hesitated, chin quivering before he clenched his teeth. "But I don't even know how to be a dad. I don't know what to do."

"No one does. Are you kiddin' me?" Rick scoffed. "You think any parent knows what the fuck they're doing? No. But they figure it out together." He glared at Eddie pointedly. "They don't fucking run. They stick around and they figure it out. Since when are you a runner, kid?"

Eddie felt his stomach twist with guilt, heart hammering at the image of you, still in bed, cheeks tear stained and shining in the low light when he slipped out late last night.

"I don't want to fuck up." Eddie whispered, shaky breaths that matched his shaking hands. "Don't want to be like my dad and ruin this kid... Ruin both their lives."

"Eddie, listen to me," Rick placed a hand on his shoulder gently. "You take care of them, you keep them safe, and you love them."

"What if I can't keep them safe?" Eddie rasped, eyes shining with fear.

"You will." Rick nodded, reassuring. "You care way too much. Clint... he got sloppy. You won't be like that."

Eddie nodded, swallowing at the thought of his mother. Rick squeezed his shoulder lightly. "You'll be a good dad, Ed. I know you will be."

"I hope you're right." Eddie said halfheartedly. "Doesn't feel like I'm off to a very good start."

Rick snorted, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, well, good thing you got some time to prepare, huh? Got some time to make it up with your missus too. If she doesn't castrate you after this. I wouldn't blame her if she did." Rick glared at him. Eddie nodded, face falling with worry as he looked down.

Rick walked around his desk, pulling the rotary phone and sliding it over to Eddie. "Call her and let her know you're alright." Rick nodded, walking towards the door.

"Thanks, Rick." Eddie muttered, but his eyes were soft, warm and genuine. He spun the dial, fingers tapping on the desk before he turned, speaking lowly into the phone.

Rick heard the shrill from across the room, Eddie flinching at the sound of what he could only assume was his furious wife. He left the room, making his way down the hall towards the bedroom, picking up the other phone off the hook, dialing a number.

"It's me. I need fifteen guys moved down in Hawkins. Back up... Send 'em some good ones down there... Yeah, just some extra muscle..." Rick muttered lowly into the phone. He knew Eddie had it covered, sure he'd be able to keep you both safe, but extra help wouldn't hurt anyone.

***

"She's pissed, Ed." Max muttered when Eddie made his way up the stairs of sidewalk. The redhead's arms crossed over her chest, glaring at him fiercely.

"I don't blame her." Eddie sighed, looking past her into the house. "Anyone else here?"

"Jeff. He calmed her down last night. Me and Gare were looking for you." Max replied. "Jeff told us you were at Rick's and... well, we got the guest room ready for you. Figured you'd be staying there for a while."

Eddie rolled his eyes, but he knew she was right. You had every reason to be mad at him, furious and hurt. His heart lurched at the thought. "Can you get Jeff and... can you both give us some space?" Eddie asked, eyes softening when he looked at Max.

Eddie didn't wait for her response, climbing up the stairs towards the bedroom. He could hear the low rumble of the TV, hesitating for a moment before he turned the knob.

There you sat, perched on the edge of the bed, arms crossed over you, lips twisted and eyes narrowed in a look of pure rage. The dogs in front of you, sitting at alert when Eddie walked in.

"Hi, baby-"

"Don't." You snapped, uncrossing your arms to pound your fist into the mattress. "Don't you fucking dare come in here acting like everything's alright. You left me? You left me?" You sneered, crossing the carpet towards Eddie.

"Baby, I didn't-"

"I wake up and you're gone. Gone. No one knows where you are. Your keys are gone, your cars gone. I didn't get a note, not a word, not so much as a goodbye, I'll be back, a fuck you, nothing!" You jabbed his chest furiously, toe to toe with him. Eddie shrunk under your furious glare.

"I was fucking terrified, Eddie. I thought something had happened, or-or that you..." You shook your head, swallowing around the thought. You couldn't bring yourself to even say it. The harsh truth that you thought was your reality just hours before.

"You left me. You left us." Your hand moved to your stomach, cradling your torso. Eddie's eyes followed, swallowing thickly around your words, around his own guilt. "If you don't want this baby, fine. Just say that, Ed. I'll leave."

"No." Eddie snapped fiercely. You faltered, shocked at his reaction. "No, please don't... I-I fucked up, ok? I was scared and I shouldn't have done that, but I'm not leaving. I'm here now, and I'm here to stay." Eddie grabbed your hands, squeezing them in his own.

"Yeah, for now." You rolled your eyes, turning your head so he wouldn't see the tears that threatened to roll down your cheeks. "Until you decide you don't want to be here-"

"-Don't." Eddie shook his head, jaw flexing with emotion. "It wasn't you or-or the baby." His throat tightened around the words, head spinning at the realization. You were bringing a baby, a real baby into this world. His baby.

"It was me." Eddie croaked, eyes shining wetly, threatening to fall with tears. "I-I just wanna be a good dad. I want to keep you both safe, and-and... I was scared, baby. I was scared I'd be like my dad and-" His face crumpled into itself, a shuttering breath that had his body shaking with sobs.

You reached for him instinctually, pulling him into you with a soothing hand on his head, letting him curl into your neck. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Eddie rasped. "I won't leave, I fucking swear. I'll keep you both safe. I won't let anyone hurt you." He babbled into your skin.

"I know you won't." You hushed him, cradling his head.

"I won't ever leave you again. I'm so sorry, so fucking sorry." Eddie clung to you, hands balling into the material of your shirt.

"You better not." You gave him a watery smile, cradling his jaw when he pulled back. "I'll take Rick's suggestion up next time. Have your balls on a fucking chain if you do that to me again."

Eddie laughed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "I won't." He said sincerely shaking his head.

His hands found your torso, squeezing gently over the place where the baby was. He swore he could feel the swell of your abdomen, a tiny change that had his heart soaring. You'd tell him it was too soon, but he knew it felt different. It was different. You two were going to be parents, bringing a baby- a life into this world.

Eddie worried constantly, endlessly if he'd be a good dad. A million "what ifs" and consuming dark thoughts that wrapped around his mind, leading him to do everything he could to prevent them from coming to fruition. He worried about the labor, about the risks after with new borns, if he'd be able to keep you both safe, if he'd fuck the kid's life up like his dad had his. He wondered if he'd worry forever, that he'd probably never stop, but he did know one thing. He'd be there for you and his baby. He wasn't going to run.

[unholyhelbig]

Part three of loan shark natty

Title: The Oversight [Part 3/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 3465

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, guns, blood, death, sort of dark nat if you squint, horrible grammar

[A/n: If you guys haven't picked up on it yet, this will be slow-burn. Also, thank you so much for the positive response to this story, it means so much!]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

It had been two weeks since the incident that you had deemed ‘the business proposal’, though, if you were being honest, you knew exactly what it was. The bruising against the side of your face, fading from a deep dark purple to an ugly muddy brown reminded you of the encounter. The faster you healed, the more your nerves started to prickle dangerously.

Each time the brass bell above the diner’s door would ring, your eyes would flick to the entrance. With bated breath, you’d study the tired businessman, the English major running on nothing but burnt coffee, or the single mother just looking for some reprieve. Much like yourself.

Clint Barton was the last person you expected and wanted to see. He was certainly the last person you wanted to see, despite the sheepish smile on his face. There was shame etched into his features and a strange softness to his eyes that starkly contrasted the man who had nearly broken your jaw.

His hair was sprinkled with droplets of water, a sweatshirt dotted from the persistent drizzle that seemed to plague the city. He dutifully wiped his feet on the mat and made his way over to you. Instead of his usual booth, Clint sat on the last stool and scratched the stubble on his chin.

He glanced at the menu as if he were going to order something different than his usual. Maybe he wouldn’t order anything at all. But, you had a feeling you weren’t going to escape the conversation at the tip of his tongue, nor the obscenities at the tip of yours.

You poured him a cup of coffee and set it in front of him without being asked. Clint could swallow down a whole pot of extra caffeinated without a second thought. For now, you urged him to pace himself silently.

“You got a couple of minutes?” He asked behind the rim of his cup.

The diner was mostly empty. It was the middle of the workday and had been a slow four hours thus far. There was only so many times you could wiped down the same table and replace the salt in the shakers.

The cook made eye contact with you as he poured alcohol from his flask into off-brand orange soda. You got a short shrug in response. Otherwise, the place was empty. Clint had timed his arrival perfectly.

“Sure. You’re not going to beat the shit out of me again, are you? Those cameras aren’t hooked up, but this is still a public place.”

“Look, I wanted to apologize for that. Bad information breeds bad reactions. I was doing what I was told. You’ll learn that that’s the only way to get anywhere in this practice.”

He stated it plainly as if you weren’t silently inducted into a criminal ring. You weren’t exactly sure what they did but if it was half as bad as what they’d done to you, it was trouble. Clint could sense your unease. He placed his mug down and lifted a bandaged eyebrow.

“Hold your grudge, y/n. I sure would. Natasha simply told me to collect you after your shift. So, you can sit here and glower at me like a grumpy little monster or you can make conversation and we can become friends.”

You hated how good the second suggestion sounded. He was charming in an annoying type of way. You’d never clicked with anyone in the diner before, certainly not the only other employee that stood behind the grill.

Clint was staring at you like he knew you’d already folded. He covered his smirk with another sip of coffee. You wanted to wipe the cocky grin off his face. He had effectively taken a shot at you, that much was true, but you had crumbled just as easily under Natasha’s wishes.

“Friends is a stretch.” You sounded out.

“Acquaintances, then.”

You conceded with a small nod and Clint smiled in a way that could only be genuine. He swallowed off the rest of his coffee and made small talk with you as you hustled around the restaurant. There was a small rush after classes at the community college let out. But you were able to carry on a conversation, learning a little more about him.

He’d been friends with Natasha for a long time. That much was clear by the way his eyes crinkled along the edges when he’d recall memories that stretched past their current affairs and into childhood.  

“We met when we were twelve. I’d just moved to town and was this scrawny, awkward mess of puberty and acne. An easy target is what I’m saying. A lot of neighborhood boys would target me, but I was faster than them. It usually worked in my favor, but there was one day when it had just snowed and it was impossible for me to get any headway.”

Clint regaled you as you filled up his mug for the third time. You lingered behind the counter, chin on your hand as you listened intently.  

“Six of them cornered me at a construction site. I didn’t even know how to begin to fight back. I was beaten close to death and then I heard Nat. She ran head-first into danger, tried to take on every single one of them. Of course, she got the shit kicked out of her too, she was just a kid there was no way for her to win. But that didn’t’ matter because she got back up every single time. Eventually they got cold, or bored, probably both.”

You didn’t want to admit that you were impressed. “Shit, that’s quite the meeting.”

“She’s tough, y/n. Not someone you want to fuck with.”

“So, this is a warning, then?” You smiled.

He shrugged his shoulders “A cautionary tale.”

He drove a 1970 Dodge challenger that smelled like cherry leather polish. It was the nicest car you had ever seen, that is, until he pulled up the iron-gated mansion on the outskirts of the city. There was a brilliant view of the harbor, the water a deep and dark blue that seemed endless, an orange sun casting delicious shadows against the docks.

The house was brick, built in a southern style with a large wrap around porch and a stone fountain in the center of a circular gravel drive. It was three stories of decadence, surrounded by large oak trees and the deepest green grass. This was the home of a Politian, or of someone who had one under their thumb.

Three black SUVs were parked in tandem outside. An equally pitch Corvette Stingray was parked directly in front of the steps. You struggled to muffle the thoughts of Natasha in the front seat. The vehicle suited her, and while you most certainly were not a car person, you knew the value of a ride like that.

Clint squirmed with pride, that same smile on his face. It was one that often accompanied him, you’d learn. He took the steps two at a time and waited to open the doors until you’d caught up. He removed his jacket and draped it over the coat rack just by entryway. You, however, were preoccupied by the elegance of the home.

The floor was a checkered black and white, stretching all the way down a corridor to open storm doors, letting in a crisp spring warmth. Light danced against art that cost more than your entire apartment building. White stairs clung to the wall and curved to the second floor. To your left, a dining room. To your right, a living area that had the softest white carpet, and a cream grand piano that your fingers twitched to run over.

There was a sour scent of bleach that reached your nose, and it was only then, did you realize the blood. It was distilled, a quiet pink color, that had been diluted by diligent scrubbing. The girl, the one that was often at Clint’s side herself, was on her knees a few feet away.

She held a scrub brush that looked like the ones used to clean the grout at the diner. Her forehead was damp with sweat, a few stray strands of dark hair falling into stormy gray eyes. The front of her shirt was stained in the majority of the blood. You failed to see how she would have much to clean from the floor. Yet, the bucket of water next to her was a frothy mess of red.

“An hour,” Clint tsked, shaking his head “I left you alone for an hour. I specifically said that I was coming back with a guest, and it was imperative not to freak her out.”

“I’m not freaked out.”

You were absolutely freaked out. But you were quick to realize whose home you were in. The scrubbing of a crime scene was startling, and you wanted to turn tail and run. However, you had seen worse before and your life had been spared once. You weren’t going to get squeamish now.

“You sound freaked out.” Clint turned his attention back to the girl “And its bad manners. If I were the police?”

“You wouldn’t have gotten through the gate.” She stood, dropping the brush into the bucket with a defiant splash. She was taller than you thought, the deep red of her collar harsh against her skin. There was a smile on her lips, and she reached out a hand to you. “I’m Kate.”

“This is y/n and she’s not going to shake that.” Clint batted Kate’s hand away “Who was this?”

Kate rolled her eyes. It was an action that you yourself would never do. Clint may be a bit aloof, but you had seen him in action. Namely when he was three seconds from snapping the bones in your face. She had no fear of him, though. There was a cockiness, a charming attention, to her stance. He didn’t’ seem to mind, or he had gotten so used to her attitude that seeped into him instead.

“I don’t know. Yelena brought them in. If you’re so concerned about the mess, maybe you should take it up with her.” There was a grin that mirrored Clints. She knew she’d won. “I can go get her if you want.”

“No need. Where’s Nat?”

“Out back by the pool. It’s a lovely day.” She leaned close to you, smelling of cleaner, of tin and of the slightest bit of chewed mint. “It’s great to meet you, y/n.”

You were careful not to lose your footing on the slick floors. Clint nudged the bucket with his toe as he walked by, sloshing about the soiled water. Kate cut him a look that only you saw, but it was one that was almost playful. She shook her head and went back to her task.

There were two things you had picked up from the conversation; Clint was afraid of Yelena, and there was somewhere soundproof in this house that she had taken someone that had lost a lot of blood. You shoved both thoughts to the back of your mind when you exited onto the back porch.

Natasha was stretched out like a cat in the sun. She wore a black bikini that left very little to the imagination. You could feel the blush against your cheeks as you averted your eyes to anywhere else, though, you swore she arched her back from the chair at the sound of your footsteps.

Her hair, still slightly damp, was cascading down her shoulders. She wore a pair of sunglasses, a book that was marked halfway through rested on the table next to her. She had clearly given up on reading, instead fully devoting herself to the sun.

Clint didn’t acknowledge her current state, nor did he have an adverse reaction to it. Your mouth was dry, and you shoved your hands into your jeans to keep them from trembling. It was a mix of fear and attraction that caught you off guard on a mostly empty stomach.

She moved her glasses down the expanse of her nose as you approached. Her stare was a startling green, raking across your form. She quirked an eyebrow. The specter of a smile on her face. Clint had noticed something you didn’t, his body language changing into something unreadable.

“y/n,” Natasha purred your name. You fought back a shiver. “You’ve healed nicely.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“ma’am? What manners you have. That’s severely lacking around here.”

Clint rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut. You did the same, partly out of fear. But mostly, you were distracted by the scars against her stomach, on her arms and down her back. It wasn’t something you had noticed at first, nor did you permit yourself to stare. Whatever had been done to you when they’d first taken you was nothing compared to what Natasha had been through. Her body told a story, one that you longed to learn.

“Hey sharpshooter,” She turned her attention to Clint “I think Yelena might need your help downstairs. Y/n. Stay.”

It was a clear dismissal, and one that he didn’t’ take lightly. He patted you on the shoulder before entering the house once more. You listened to his footfalls for a few moments, holding your breath until you started to feel your vision falter.

You’d been alone with Natasha before. But this felt different. Heavier. The questions that you’d had these last two weeks were meant to be answered. She gestured for you to sit on the opposite chair, which you did carefully, body tightened to make yourself as small as possible. She removed her glasses entirely, a strand of russet hair falling into her gaze.

“You’re going to quit your job at the diner.” She said.

“I can’t do that,” Your response was automatic.

Natasha sat up, placing her bare feet adjacent to yours. Her knees were pressed against your own. She easily could have pushed your own open and she stared at you as if she contemplated the fact herself. Instead, she lilted her head and peered at you.

“What I mean, ma’am, is that’s my livelihood.”

“Oh, I understand. I wasn’t perfectly clear. You work for me, now. You’re on my payroll. I’m sure it’ll be quite an upgrade.” She leaned closer. “Do you know what I do, y/n?”

You swallowed hard and shook your head. There was an inkling. But it was just speculation. Someone with a home like this had a good handle on business. Natasha certainly conveyed fear, and commanded respect. So did the people who worked for her, willing to take a bullet in moment’s notice.

You weren’t there yet, but you were sure with a little persuasion, you would be. Part of you had felt slighted. They’d pulled you from your life, from your daughter, and threw you into this without any type of explanation.

“The harbor behind you is a center of trade. Whoever controls the harbor controls the city, and for generations my family has had a monopoly when it comes to what comes in and out. There is not a single freight that can dock here without getting past me. Recently, that’s been threatened.”

She sighed and worked a hand through her hair. Her stare flicked past your shoulder, focused on the expanse of water that had been a staple in your life. You’d walk along the docks, chat with the vendors on the way to work. It seemed like a friendly place.

“There are two prominent families in this city, Y/n. The Romanov’s and Danver’s. For the past three years they’ve been pushing back against the real leadership, getting creative. Looking for change. But we simply can’t allow that to happen. Things work as they are.”

You had a feeling that this was the core of her beliefs. Things how they were weren’t so bad. Each person had their own struggles but when it came to integral crime on the streets, in the boroughs, you hadn’t noticed anything and that was the way you liked it. Ignorant, maybe. But it was none of your concern. Not until now.

“A lot of people work for me, but my numbers are dwindling. It’s hard to find good help anymore. You know how it is.”

You didn’t.

“There’s something… in you that I admire. A perseverance to live and protect and you’re going to do exactly that for me.” Natasha stated this plainly. “The Winter Soldier will be predisposed. Not permanently. But I would like you to replace him.” 

There must have been disbelief written across your features because Natasha laughed, actually laughed, as your jaw fell open. It was a lovely sound; you must admit. Bucky was well known in the neighborhood. Even without being knee deep in mafia sludge, you had heard of him. You feared him. And the thought of stirring the same reaction seemed unattainable.

“I… what about Clint?” You asked dumbly. He seemed like the natural choice.

“He’s got his hands full with an heiress who, I’m sure you can tell, is a bit aloof. But extremely valuable. Much like yourself.” She quirked an eyebrow “if it’s experience, you’re worried about, don’t be. I’ll train you myself.”

She stood and tapped your leg with her fingers, arousal shooting straight to your core at the slight contact. Your body almost refused to move, but you were quick to snap out of it when she smiled wolfishly down at you. “Now, have you ever killed anyone?”

Your voice was pinched. “No.”

“We’ll have to change that, darling.” She started to saunter away, grabbing her silk cover-up from the back of a nearby chair. She slid it over her shoulders, and it hugged her form with just enough ferocity as the bathing suit. “Come, dear. I have just the person in mind.”

The basement was significantly cooler than the rest of the house, bathed by the sun. As you descended the stone steps, you fought the urge to smooth your fingers over your skin to quell the frigid air.

Natasha seemed unbothered. She led you into a large room that you assumed was soundproof. It was a fairly empty room, lit with artificial bulbs that reminded you much of the warehouse they’d kept you in for the weekend. This seemed more malicious though. Not something to extract information exactly. A form of punishment.

A man was strung up from a low hanging rafter, his feet barely touching the ground. Rope was tied around his wrists, his hands above his head. Blood dripped like syrup from his lips, from a wound against his side. His left knee looked unnatural and broken.

You fought back a groan at the sight, at the smell of him. One eye was swollen shut, his fingers curling when he noticed Natasha’s presence.

Clint’s back was to you, his fingers dancing over an array of tools. He hummed a Metallica song, stopping at a pair of pliers. Yelena had her arms crossed over her chest, walking a slow, predatory circle around the man.

“No,” Yelena took the pliers from Clint “He will need his teeth to talk.”

Your throat tightened. This was the same woman who had sat next to your daughter in the diner. The one who had complimented her art and your job at raising her. She was easy to have conversations with, charming in the purest sense.

She turned towards both of you. “Natasha, you shouldn’t wear open toed shoes here. It is unsanitary.”

The woman next to you was not admonished in the slightest. Not by the cold or the harsh words of Yelena. Instead, she studied the man in front of you. He was in rough shape. If he hadn’t talked yet, he wasn’t going to. That much was clear.

This felt like the first time you served without following around an older, more experienced waitress. Your fingers were trembling and there was a wild nervousness that was in the pit of your stomach. Eventually, you learned, and it was second nature. You wondered if that’s what Natasha wanted. For you to learn not to cringe away from things like this. Just like the Winter Soldier.

As if to prove your thought process, Natasha said “Which one of you has your gun?”

They both pulled them out of various places at the same time, without hesitation, to the question. It made sense that Natasha didn’t have a weapon on her, not with the outfit that she walked around in. The cover-up was too tight against her skin, too revealing.

Yelena was closer, so Natasha grabbed the weapon from her. “Have you ever shot a gun before?”

“I have.”

Your second foster father was a deputy sheriff in Minnesota. On half-frozen nights, he’d return home from the local bar reeking of sour alcohol and sweat. The door to your bedroom would creak open and he’d drag you from bed, barefoot and in your pajamas.

Most of the time, he had cans set up on an old picnic table that had rotted through. At first, it was your job to set the cans back up and fight off hypothermia. But after three or four sleepless nights, he taught you how to shoot. His body was warm against your back and the first time the gun kicked you had nearly broken your nose.

You considered yourself a good shot when it came to cans, wild turkeys, and even the occasional buck. This was different. This was a human being that was taking in heaving breathes and fighting to pull himself up to give his bad knee a break.

“Do you know how to aim?” Natasha asked.

“It’s been years.”

“Okay,” She breathed.

You flinched when she moved behind you. Her warmth was all encapsulating. She smelled of sunscreen, and vaguely of the salt of the ocean. Natasha’s fingers pressed against your hip, giving you a small squeeze, signaling for you to take a step back.

Her other hand dropped the pistol into yours, heavy and warm. Her hand trailed up your arms, giving you goosebumps, fingers tightening around your own until you held the gun towards the man. The stranger.

Natasha’s chin was on your shoulder, her breathe hot against your cheek. Her voice came out in a whisper. “Right there. When you’re ready.”

She’d aimed the tip of the gun directly between his eyes. You could hear your heartbeat in both ears, vibrating through your body. It wasn’t hesitation, exactly. In this moment, it was his life or yours. Clint and Yelena watched you carefully, with intent.

You took a deep, shaking, breath and clenched your eyes before pulling the trigger. You expected some sort of blow-back. The same throbbing pain that you recalled from shooting at the cans. The scent of gunpowder mixing with cold.

None of those came.

Instead, there was a small click. The safety was on, and though you had squeezed the trigger with the intention to kill, it simply did not fire. You inadvertently slumped back into Natasha and the hand on your hip snaked around your middle, holding you close.

“You won’t have to kill often,” Natasha explained “But it’s good to know you’d do it without question if I tell you to.”

“Oh, Natasha, do not play with her. It is not nice.”

Smoothly, Natasha worked the gun from your hand and switched the safety off before you could blink. She fired two shots in succession, not releasing her hold on you. Your ear was ringing and the man in front of you slumped in his bindings.

“Okay. Very effective. You owe me bullets.” Yelena took her weapon back. “You are cleaning this up.”

“That means I’m cleaning this up.” Clint said.

Natasha hummed in agreement, finally pulling herself away from you. “I think this a job for two, don’t you, y/n?”

There wasn’t room to disagree with her. Not when you could only hear out of one ear, your skin still buzzing from her lingering touch. You could have sworn you felt her own heartbeat against your shoulder blade.

 But you’d never bring that up.

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toocreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos]

[auroralwriting]

covered in the colors

part one

tfatws! bucky barnes x fem!maximoff! reader

he was red, and he liked me because I was blue

word count: 2k | warnings: vaguely follows the mcu timeline, set during tfatws, semi-slow burn, multiple parts, bucky is pining

Being a powered individual in today's society was tough. Being one of the Avengers to take the side of Steve Rogers during the Sokovia Accords was even harder.

It was hard not to envy Clint and Scott, both out on house arrest. You'd kill to have that. Instead, you were country-hopping with your sister, Natasha, Sam, and Steve. Sure, it wasn't so bad, but it wasn't the home you'd been searching for your whole life.

After the blip, being gone for ten years, and helping Wanda adjust to her new life without Vision was the roughest few months you'd experienced since Ultron and Pietro's death. Wanda was nearly robotic for a whole month; it took weeks to crack her. After a few more weeks, she became a whole kidnapper of an entire town, holding them all hostage. That was pretty rough, too. The hardest part, however, was finally putting yourself back out there using your powers.

You'd left that life behind after you came back, after Thanos was gone. Maybe it was time to rebuild who you were as a person rather than who you were with your powers. Even when Wanda took over Westview, you'd managed to scrape by without hardly using your powers.

That all went down the drain the second you saw Sam give up the shield, it now being held to some John Walker guy. You had a gut feeling this would come back to bite you in the ass, somehow. Of course, your intuition was right.

Sam called you in a panic, Bucky had been arrested for missing his therapy session, and he didn't know what to do. So, you were quick to make your way to where Bucky was being held in New York. You lived in the country side, so one very quickly driven car ride and you were there.

The second you burst in, you eyes found Sam immediately. Your pace was quick as you made your way over to him. "Sam," You breathed out as he enveloped you in a hug. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, giving you a small squeeze. He pulled back, his hands still on your biceps. "I saw what happened in Westview, I'm sorry-"

Your hand came up quickly, halting him from continuing. "It's really okay. It was a whole magic thing, I couldn't see your little birdie wings helping too much, but thank you." Sam rolled his eyes at your comment, but nodded regardless. "Have you seen Bucky?" You asked, sitting in the seat next to his.

Sam shook his head, "No, they won't tell me shit. It's freakin' me out."

It was just then a women, soon to be introduced as Bucky's therapist, walked over. The second she said it wasn't her to bail out Bucky, your heart stopped when you saw John Walker in person.

When Bucky was escorted into the room, his eyes quickly fell on you. He was surprised to see you there. You'd interacted with him a couple of times, and surprisingly, Bucky was fond of you. He remembered asking Steve about you before the fight in Germany. The first time he saw your powers, well that was a whole new story. The way you held yourself, the kindness you had in your heart, despite being experimented on by Hydra, was just perplexing to him. He was just appalled at the person you were, and that isn't even mentioning the fact that you might've just been the prettiest woman he'd ever seen. The first time you saw him was the lasting impression for Bucky. Without any ounce of hesitation, you approached him, hand out for him to shake. You introduced yourself with a soft voice and kind smile to compliment. No one had done that for him in a long time. Seeing you now, after all that had happened, you had this maturity, this grown beauty to you, and Bucky felt himself becoming astounded all over again.

The first thing you thought? Damn, he looked good.

Bucky's therapist quickly pulled Sam and Bucky into a final session, now allowing them to say a word to you until it was over. You found yourself walking outside a few minutes later, tired of waiting. Your long sleeved shirt becoming too thin to keep you warm due to the chill in the air. You saw him, John, and his friend standing by a cop car.

"Maximoff," John called the moment he spotted you, "Come here, let's chat."

You begrudgingly made your way over, dread washing over you. "Walker," You greeted.

"Woah, didn't expect an American accent," John exclaimed. "Sounds good, really natural."

His words led you to stare at him blankly for a moment. "Why'd you bail out Bucky?" You wanted to get straight to the point. Chit-chat with Walker was not something that interested you.

"Look, I don't know what all Wilson told you, but we have super soldier terrorists on our hands." Walker explained, "And we need help taking them out."

Eyebrows raised, you replied, "Take them out? That's your plan?"

Walker nodded, "That's the plan so far,"

"That's the shittiest plan I've ever heard of in my life." You retorted. "Whatever you want with me? I'm with Sam and Bucky."

The look on Walker's face was honestly priceless. "They're going the roundabout way, nothing they're doing is legal."

With a small laugh, you held your hands up. "Are you kidding me? Do you even know me? I literally fought Iron Man against the Sokovia Accords, which no longer exist, by the way. Technically, we still have jurisdiction wherever the Avengers so please."

"You fought Iron Man to, what, become locked up again?" Walker taunted. Of course he would become a man-child when things didn't go his way. "It was probably for a best. You and that devil-sister of yours are nothing but a liability and danger to-" John was cut off with your fist colliding with his cheek. The loud thud of the impact made John's friend whip out a gun, to which you grabbed with your powers, holding it out of his reach.

"Hey," You whipped your head around to see Sam and Bucky making their way over to you. You dropped the gun, the blue of your powers fading into nothing as you cradled your fist in your other hand, stepping to the side as Sam and Bucky stood next to you. "Whatever you said, you probably deserved that."

John massaged the area you punched as he stood up from his kneeling position. "I was just explaining that if we divide ourselves, we don’t stand a chance, you guys know that."

"So what do you got?" Sam rolled his eyes as he spoke.

"Well, the leader’s name’s Karli Morgenthau. We’ve been targeting civilians who’ve been helping Karli move from place to place." Walker explained.

Walker's friend spoke up, "They geotagged a location, then scrambled the signal. But our satellites have found their symbol popping up in various displaced communities all across Central and Eastern Europe."

The second the conversation ended, you were the first to turn on your heel and walk away, Bucky and Sam right behind you.

"Well isn't he just a delight?" You remarked, a scoff following. "Is it true? They're super soldiers?"

Sam nodded, "Yeah, and they're killing innocent people for their cause."

"Okay, so what do we do now?" You asked, turning around as the two men pasued.

"You saying your getting your ass involved?" Sam asked, a small smirk on his lips.

You sighed, "As much as I loved retirement, there's just too much going on right now to sit idly by."

"Then welcome to the team," Bucky replied sarcastically, but it was companied with a smile. Sam was quick to wrap an arm around your shoulder as the three of you began to walk. "I didn't know you could punch like that." Bucky pointed out.

With a shrug, you answered, "Well, let's just say I'm very rusty with it. I'm gonna get a bruise for sure."

As the three of you walked, Bucky spoke up from a small pause of silence. "Walker doesn’t have any leads..."

Sam gave him a look, "I know where you're going with this, no."

"He knows all of Hydra's secrets. Don’t you remember Siberia?" Bucky replied as you gave him a confused look.

"So you’re just gonna go sit in a room with this guy?" Sam asked.

Bucky hesitated, "Yes,"

"Okay, then. We’re gonna go see Zemo." Sam replied.

You did a double take at his words, "Baron Zemo?" You asked. "The Sokovian guy who basically set us all up, Baron Zemo?"

"Yeah, that one." Bucky responded. "I know you may not like him, but-"

"No, no!" You cut him off quickly. "This could be good. I'm Sokovian, maybe he'll be lenient if I help."

Sam shrugged, "It isn't a bad idea."

"How are we gonna get there?" You questioned. "We can't just exaclty fly commercial."

"We have a plane," Sam said.

The moment you stepped in, you shook your head, "This isn't a plane, this is a death trap." Bucky chuckled at your words. "Who's flying this thing, anyways?"

Quickly, a young man stepped out. "Oh, hi! I didn't know we were bringing-" His eyes widened at the sight of you. "You- Oh, wow. Hi, I'm such a fan of you."

You gave a small smile, "Thank you..."

"Torres! I'm Torres," The man replied, shaking your hand quickly. "And I'll be your pilot today."

Bucky felt his chest tighten at the boy's words. He quickly stepped next to you, "Funny," Bucky commented as Torres gave a nervous look, stepping back into the cockpit.

"He do that to every Avenger he meets?" You asked Bucky, looking up at him to meet his eyes.

"Just the ones he finds pretty," Bucky chided, his voice a mutter.

You chuckled, "Glad to hear someone thinks that." Your joke didn't fully register to Bucky as he gave you a bewildered look.

"Don't say that, you're beautiful," His gruff voice spoke out.

You took a seat in one of the seats, Bucky taking the space next to you. "My powers are what people think's beautiful, or they're scared of it. Or both."

"Well they're all stupid," Bucky decided, his voice still a mere mutter. "You aren't scary, and your whole being is beautiful, they just don't know you."

The swell of your heart caught your attention at his words. "Thank you," Your voice was a mutter back, the feeling of heat creeping up your neck as Sam walked in.

"Alright, we ready for our flight?" He asked as you both nodded. He sat opposite of you both. "It's late, let's try and get some rest before we land. It's been a hell of a day."

You had to wonder what kind of a day they'd had besides the whole arresting part, but left that thought in the back of your mind. Sam leaned his head back. It was clear he was going to fall asleep really quickly.

"Thank you for coming with us," Bucky remarked as he looked over to you. "This is a shit show we've gotten ourselves into."

A small laugh found its way out of your mouth, "Trust me, I've been through much worse than just some super soldiers and a pretend Captain America."

"I heard about what happened," Bucky commented. "Are you okay?"

No one had yet to ask you that. You paused before answering, "I think I am. Somehow, I think it helped Wanda. And now, we have a rouge Vision flying around somewhere in the world. She's off searching for him as we speak."

Bucky nodded, and you wondered if he'd ask about how Vision is alive again, but with him clearly watching the news, he probably already knew. "You think she'll find him?"

"I do," You confirmed. "Love always finds its way back together."

Your head was leaned back, eyes closed. You missed the longing look in Bucky's eyes as he stared at you. "Yeah, it does."

[ladykailitha]

I have decided today I am giving out my Steve Harrington headcanons, because I love him so much.

His parents are very rich. His dad is new money, self made. His mom is old money.

His father is Indiana born and bred, but his mother is from Kentucky. She doesn't have her accent anymore because she trained herself out of it. Though it does show up when she's drunk or angry.

I know everyone does Richard (Dick) for his dad mainly for the lols, which I respect, but I think his name is Clint. It's just rich dude bro enough, you know? And then for the mom I go back and forth between Maureen and Allison. Allison because that's Ally Sheedy's character in The Breakfast Club and I often use her looks as bases for Mrs. Harrington.

They were never meant to be parents. They had the one because that's what was expected of them, but no. They don't like kids.

I don't know if his dad is only verbally abusive, but he is some kind of shit. Steve was so scared of him finding out that there was alcohol the night Barb vanished that that was all that consumed his thoughts. And even in season 3 Steve tells Dustin (thinking he was his dad) that he doesn't do drugs, just marijuana. Meaning that's something they've fought about a lot.

Kids of good parents rarely smoke, drink, smoke pot, and have wild parties all the time as an under-aged teenager. There are no doubt exceptions, but most of the time it's kids who are neglected and abused that are the ones that act out like that.

Steve had nannies and baby-sitters growing up that he saw more than his parents. But he would still be taken on actual vacations with them. Mostly to show off that they do have a son.

He was in baseball in middle school but quit when he got into high school. His parents put him in as many after school activities as they could. He was taught piano. Went to swimming and was so good at it, he joined the team in high school. Played basketball throughout both middle and high school. But he was forced to dropout due to the concussion Billy gave him his senior year. It's why he sneers at Brenda at the game when she says it would ironic if they won the championship the year after he graduated. Because he wasn't even on the team his last year.

When he turned sixteen they gave him his BMW. No, he did not get to pick the car or the color, but he takes very good care of it. Does a lot of the maintenance himself. One of the few things his dad taught him, but because you needed to know enough to make sure your mechanic wasn't ripping you off.

He can cook. But only if he has a recipe to follow and will get upset if it doesn't look like the picture. Is a consummate baker though. Because everything has a reason it's done like that and it makes sense.

Definitely a fall baby. That's why he was able to lifeguard for three years even if he didn't lifeguard after his senior year due to him working at Scoops Ahoy.

He's bad at math and science which is why the Party teases him all the time, but he's great at English and history.

Only applied at the schools his dad thought were "appropriate" and didn't get in. But to be fair, he was still suffering from a concussion when those applications went out and he wasn't really at his best. Just above his worst if he was honest.

He likes his preppy clothes and while he laughs it off, it upsets him when he's made fun for it.

Alt rock fan all the way. Depeche Mode, The Cure, New Order.

Has a list of the Party's likes and dislikes for food and other things, so he is the best gift giver. He doesn't spend a lot of money, though he has been accused of that a couple of times. But he prefers well thought out gifts over expensive ones. It's why Max, Eddie, and the Byers boys love Steve gifts. They never feel pressured to one up him.

Complete romantic. Loves being in love, but it was hard to pick up the pieces of his broken heart after what happened with Nancy.

Loves Robin, but even though it is sometimes weird, it never veers into creepy or obsessive. Robin is absolutely the vodka aunt of the party to Steve's mom.

When Eddie comes into the group, they tease him that's he's the dad to Steve's mom. Because as goofy as Eddie is he absolutely wouldn't let the kids get into real trouble.

Steve the romantic gets absolutely wooed by Eddie and never is made to feel wrong footed when showers Eddie with the affection he would for a girl. It's nice for a guy to receive flowers sometimes too.

Steve favorite flower is sunflowers. But his favorite color is blue.

He absolutely keeps the vest. Refuses to give it back. Which Eddie is surprisingly okay with.

I could go on forever, but I'll stop there for now and if I come up with more I'll add them later.

[writingoddess1125]

Anger Management

Buggy & Daughters!3yo 🍒

Support on Ko-Fi

Old Man Series

"FOR FUCK SAKES SHUT UP!" Buggy Yelled, his temper flaring as he screamed at his lackies and pointed a finger at them. He had lost a fair bit of money recently in his business and was hella pissed off- This had started out as a meeting but was more of Buggy losing his shit.

"Buggy there isn't anything to be do-" Cabaji started to explain but was cut off again by Buggy slamming his hands on his next.

"I SAID SHUT UP! I swear to fucking God I'm going to fucking kill the next person who talks in this God damn Room! How can you all-"

The door slammed open suddently and Buggy already had a special Muggy Ball ready to shove down the throat of the idiot who dared to storm into his office!

"Hi Daddy!" ...

Buggy had never felt his blood actually freeze as he saw his 3 year old daughter standing in the doorway. Wearing the pretty blue matching dresses he had just bought her and her sister that had little cherries on it, her hair in little pink tails and in shiny doll shoes.

"Ari?-"

He quietly slipped the Muggy Ball away as he felt his face warm in total embarrassment, not daring to glance at the group he was just yelling at.

...

There was Dead silence. Ari toddling over with a drawing in hand and a large smile. The group of pirates trying to hold back their laughs as they saw Buggy's face shift from 8 different emotions at once and give a forced smile.

"Sweetie what are you doing at Daddys office?" He questioned softly.

"Mommy bring food Daddy! We draw this!" Ari chimed happily as she rushed to Buggys desk and held up the drawing. The Yonko reaching down and picking up his daughter gently to place on his hip as he took the picture with a detached hand. It was a fairly abstract family portrait of sorts with all of them holding hands on what he thought was the ship.

"You two drew this? It's lovely Squeak, now where is Bubbles?" He questioned softly. Ari pointing to Ali who was peaking around the office door- She was much shyer then her sister so Bubby waved her in and she rushed to him clinting to his leg, Him scooping her up as well with his Chop Chop abilities.

"Alright. Gangs all here- Did you show Mommy the drawing yet?"

"No- This for you" Ali said softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she shyly glanced at the crew who were standing near by almost red in the face from holding back laughter.

"Oh this is for me? Thank you both. I'm going to keep this here and why don't you go find your Mommy for me? I'll be done with work soon" He said softly, Watching his toddlers nod in understanding. Giving them both quick kisses on the cheeks he set them down and kept the crayon picture on his desk.

The girls holding hands waved bye and went to find You.

"Bye Bye!" Ari waved at the lot who returned the nice goodbye as the toddlers left the room in a fit of giggles.

After they left it was silent again, Clearly the team truing to keep from bursting out in laughter at this point and Alvida straight up facing away from Buggy who was rubbing his eyes in both exhaustion and embrassment.

Cabaji was clearly feeling brave that day as he smiled softly and looked to the side.

"So what was that about Captian.. for the next wh-" He was cut off by a glare, far less intense as the one from before.

"Shut it-"