#I wish we had got more glimpses of Steve’s childhood

[goneahead]

@cowandcalf tagged me to post something from my WIP. This is from ‘Goodnight, Moon’ which is **checks notes** yes, another mcdanno AU.

tagging @itwoodbeprefect @mcdannoangelwolf @redgoldblue @bgharison @simplyn2deep @stephmcx @kristin99 and anyone else who wants to share a snippet from their WIPs!

putting this under a cut ‘cuz its kind of long:

It was one in the morning, but Steve couldn’t sleep. He wandered out onto the lanai, back into the kitchen for a glass of water, and then headed across the lawn to the garage. Opened the toolbox, only to realize that he just wasn’t up to wrestling sense out of his dad’s riddles.

He picked up the tape recorder, ran his thumb over the play button. That jogged his memory.

Where was the Eight Islands Story Hour videotape?

Back in the 80’s, there had been a statewide project to tape people reading children’s books; first in English, and then in Hawai’ian. His mom was on the second tape in the series, reading Goodnight, Moon in English.

He’d been ten; too old and too cool to care about a recording of his mom reading a ‘baby’ book. Mary, though, had watched and rewatched the tape for the next couple of years. Eventually, she moved on to cartoons and kid movies—until 1992.

While his dad was making the final arrangements at the funeral home, Steve had searched through the kid movies piled up in the bookcase, and Mary had snuck a can of beer from the fridge in the garage. Then they had held their own vigil; listening to their mom read to them one more time, while they split the beer.

Letting his nine-year old sister drink was definitely not one of his finer moments as a brother, but that afternoon had somehow felt more real, more meaningful, than his mom’s funeral.

Or his father’s funeral, two weeks ago.

Steve put the tape recorder back, closed the toolbox. Went into the house, and started searching. He finally found the boxes half-buried in the closet of the guest bedroom. He carried the big box downstairs first, pulled out the VCR. Sorted through the cables and a ziplock bag of adapters, found what he needed to hook the machine up.

He returned to the closet, grabbing the box labeled ‘Kid Movies - VHS’ in his dad’s broad, strong handwriting. Steve carried the box downstairs, set it on the coffee table. Found the Story Hour tape near the bottom. A photo of his mom was on the back cover, and he had to swallow against the sudden lump in his throat.

He pushed the tape into the VCR, checked the box again. Good Night, Moon was the second book on the tape. He hit play and forward a few times, finally found the right section.

His mom was sitting in a wooden rocker, looking impossibly young. She was smiling at the camera. “—next book is ‘Good Night, Moon’ by Margaret Wise Brown.”

Her smile was like a gut punch and Steve half-sat, half-fell into the recliner.

In the great green room, there was a telephone

He hadn’t cried during the long flight back, or at his father’s funeral. He hadn’t even cried when he’d stood over the outline of his father’s body, the walls of his childhood home still flecked with blood. But hearing his mother’s voice for the first time in eighteen years was too much.

Steve dropped his head in his hands, and wept.

[fanboymickey]

Harrington’s got her | You’re having a …

Summary: Reader and Eddie had been high school sweethearts and planned on being together forever. Instead, life had other plans and flipped reader's world upside down. Now reader finds herself becoming a single mother and possibly falling in love with her childhood best friend, Steve Harrington.

Word count: 1.3k

Warning: Angst. Teen pregnancy. Reader is 19 years old. Vecna and Eddie are both dead. Everything was solved at the end of volume two.

Request: Nope. I had an idea for this and just wanted to write it.

Pairings: Past Eddie Munson x Reader, Steve Harrington x Reader

Writers Note: Hi! Here’s part 4! I’m super excited about this chapter and I spent quite awhile planning it and actually writing it. I hope you all enjoy💗

Part 3

Spring had come and gone faster than you expected it to. It was now August and you were nearing your seventh month of pregnancy. Your back pain and your ability to get comfortable had gotten worse but Steve did his best to try and make you comfortable whether it’d be giving you more pillows, giving you a heating pad and even rubbing your lower back hoping it’d help.

Today was a special day, it was your sixth month check up and the day you would find out the gender of your baby- Eddie's baby; yours and Eddie’s baby. You thought back to how you wished he was here- god he would love it. He would be rambling about all the different names he came up with and how he wouldn’t care about what the gender was but that they were born healthy. You closed your eyes and let a few tears fall before you heard a knock at your door.

“Hey, you ready to go?” you peered up at a smiling Steve, whose smile disappeared as soon as he saw you crying. He rushed over to your bed and sat next to you, he grabbed your hand, “Is everything ok with you or the baby?”

“I’m fine, they’re fine,” you wiped your tears and sniffled, “I was just thinking about how much Eddie would love today.” you said while resting your hand on your stomach.

“God Munson would probably be cracking jokes about naming the baby after some metal head or rockstar,” you and Steve both laughed knowing that’s exactly what Eddie would be doing.

You caught a glimpse of Steve’s watch and saw your appointment was in half an hour, “shit we gotta go,” you stood up quicker than normal for your days. Steve quickly got up after you.

“Let’s go see baby Munson.” Steve said while following you around.

You had sat with Steve while you were waiting for them to call your name. You couldn’t help but be aware of how young you and Steve were compared to all the other couples there especially when they would give you looks or stare at you trying to figure out how old you are or if you were a single mother. You had seen them making comments while staring at you to their husband’s about you. They definitely didn’t know what it meant to be discreet. A few of the other regulars started treating you differently when you brought Steve around, you assumed they presumed him to be the father. You and Steve weren’t even a couple, this you knew but that didn’t mean it hadn’t crossed your mind every night since he bought you the stuffed black cat.

You felt Steve’s hand grab yours and intertwine your fingers, you felt a small tingle throughout your hand as he comfortingly rubbed the back of your hand. You looked up and gave him a small smile.

“Ms. Y/l/n” the nurse called. You got up as fast as you could unconsciously grabbing Steve’s hand again when following the nurse to the ultrasound room. “How are we feeling today mama?”

“I’m good, I’m excited.” You smiled.

“And how are you feeling daddy?” She said looking at Steve.

“Uh, I’m uh no-“ you cut Steve off, “He’s excited to know too.” You answered quickly. Steve looked at you confused but decided to ask later.

“Alright then, the doctor will be in shortly.” The nurse said awkwardly trying to move past the tension that was in the room.

The next five minutes felt longer than anything else you had experienced. The doctor had walked in and greeted you both. He quickly went over your information and answered any questions you had.

“Are you both ready to see your baby?” The doctor asked while preparing the materials.

You nodded in response at the doctor. ”Yes, we are,” Steve answered for you both.

“Alright well this’ll be a little cold at first,” the doctor warns you about the gel. You give him a quick nod so he knows you heard him and then he applies it to your lower abdomen.

You almost cry as soon as you see the baby appear on the screen, “Well, the baby appears to be developing well and is around 24 centimeters long,” he moved the wand around a bit making sure he didn’t miss anything, “would you both like to know the sex of the baby?”

“Yes please.” You answer quickly.

The doctor looked between you and Steve with a smile, “it’s a healthy little boy.” You didn’t realize that you had been holding Steve’s hand again until now when you felt him thumb once again rubbing the backside of your hand. You looked up at Steve and gave him a teary smile, “We’re having a boy,” Steve said with tears in his eyes.

“Yeah, I guess we are.” You smiled weakly. You didn’t want to correct Steve because even though Eddie was this baby’s, your son’s biological father, Steve had been there doing all the things with you and for you that Eddie should’ve been doing. You felt a sense of guilt in knowing this and for allowing Steve to take Eddie’s place not only in your son’s life, but now yours as well.

You couldn’t stop tossing and turning that night while in bed. The guilt you had felt from earlier was still there and was still eating you up inside. You had never wanted to replace Eddie and you knew for a fact that this baby would know who his father was- no is.

You looked over to your side and saw Steve laying there with his eyes shut facing you with one hand under his right side of his pillow and the other by his side. Steve had slept over because your parents went out of town for a business conference and you hadn’t wanted to stay alone at the house since everything a few months ago. You felt safer if Steve was at least there. As for why he was in your bed, that’s simply because your house had no guest rooms and because you and Steve are only friends, so it’s fine for him to sleep in your bed. All of your friends sleep in your bed, it’s not at all weird that the only other boy you ever let sleep in your bed was Eddie.

You felt Steve reach over and grab your arm, “Alright what’s up?” Steve sat up in bed and turned on the lamp to look at you better.

“How’d you know?” You questioned and bit your lip.

“I always know,” he chuckled, “plus I could feel you literally tossing and turning for the past,” he looked over you and at your alarm that sat on your bedside table, “two and a half hours.”

You sighed, “I’m just nervous, that’s all.” You wanted to avoid this conversation but you could tell by the look on Steve’s face that he wasn’t believing that you being nervous is all that is keeping you up and he is definitely not letting either of you go to sleep until you’ve talked about whatever was bothering you.

“You know you can talk to me,” he turned to face you so you could fully look at each other’s faces.

“I’m just,” you paused and could feel yourself slowly getting more upset, “I’m just sad,” you hesitated to say what you were gonna say next, “I’m thankful to have you Steve and it’s just-“ Steve cut you off, “I’m not Eddie,” he said nervously and ran a hand through his hair.

“You’re not Eddie,” you repeated quietly, “it’s not that I don’t want to do this with you,” you gestured between the two of you with your hands, “but you’re doing everything that Eddie is supposed to be doing and I just,” you sniffled, “I just feel guilty.”

Steve brought you into a hug, “I’m not trying to replace Eddie, Y/N. I know I can’t be Eddie, but I am just trying to be here for you and your son because that’s what Eddie would’ve wanted,” he paused, “and it’s what I want.”

Part 5

Taglist:

@khaylin27

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@lexi-2004

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@doodlebug16-blog

[rillils]

steve being the youngest in the avengers

his time in the ice doesnt count

ohh nonnie, I’m apologizing in advance because this got a bit away from me, but seriously

it just makes me ache, you know, knowing that Steve never really got to experience a carefree childhood, that his background meant that he had to grow up painfully fast, and see some of the worst parts of humanity much too soon.

I mean, his life truly has been just one fight after the other, and it’s so fucking unfair and it also explains so many things, because-- of course he’s always been older than his years. of course his shoulders have always carried the weight of something so much bigger than him. how could it have been otherwise?

and then, well, I’m sure it takes the other avengers a while to realize just how young Steve is.

imagine reviving a historical figure, a man you’d only ever seen in grainy black and white pictures, with the neat side-part and the pomade-shiny hair and the serious expression most men in old-timey photographs seemed to sport. a stuffy stranger at worst, somebody’s grandpa at best. it’s hard to look at this man, crystallized in the past and still glorified in the present, and imagine that he’s really just a kid, one like many others, flesh and blood and PTSD; that he’s no different than any other young man you could have met in your life, been friends with, had coffee with. it’s hard to separate the legend from the man, right?

look at Steve fresh out of the ice, with his old man clothes and the tense set of his shoulders, and the sternness you see sometimes in his eyes, in his clenched jaw. now, it’s been ages since I watched the first avengers movie, but how many times does Steve smile there? genuinely? I’m guessing not many. he hardly ever smiles, hardly ever relaxes, doesn’t get most pop culture references, walks around calling people his age “son”, I mean - of course he’d feel old to these guys, I’m sure Steve himself feels old, in so many different ways. it’s been said so many times, but he really, literally is a man out of time, out of touch with the world around him and the people inhabiting it.

that’s why I think, yeah, it must have taken the others a good while to see the (desperately lonely) young man behind the stoic soldier mask.

BUT. but.

but I love to see the glimpses of youth and playfulness in him, you know, especially after Bucky comes back, like - that sweet, hopeful “can’t read that in a museum”, which has got to be the most fucking tender he’s ever looked in the entire fucking franchise, and then, oh, reminiscing together so easily like it’s only been yesterday, teasing little “you blew three bucks” and “you called her Dot” and everything, the twinkle of something in his eyes that just makes me want to scream, AND OH MY GOD that glorious, luxuriant, all-puppy powered-by-a-million-burning-suns smile in infinity war, the way his shoulders relax and he tilts his head to the side and keeps his whole body open to the man in front of him, you know??

that’s what I love to see. that’s what I wish we could have had more of, had they actually allowed his character to progress forward (but that’s reaching into that fucking travesty that is Crapgame, and I’m not touching Crapgame with a ten-miles pole). less of the guarded, weary soldier and more glimpses of this: this ease, this openness, this genuine smiling.

maybe it’s a bit of a paradox, but I like to imagine Steve being able to reclaim more and more of his youth the older he grows. I like to imagine that his path towards healing includes much of this, too; of being able to embrace the childish and playful parts of him that he’s always felt he had to repress, one way or the other.

I just want him to be able to do silly shit and allow himself to enjoy it fully, you know? idk, blowing bubbles, belting out a song while he’s in his underwear, playing funny video games, snacking on chocolate milk and cookies, buying matching pyjama sets with ridiculous prints for himself and Bucky, letting Bucky put curlers in both of their hair (and Natasha’s too, because of course she’s there as well. Sam only gets a pass on the curlers because duh, not enough hair for that to begin with, but he ain’t getting out of the manipedi NOR the facemasks). I mean fuck, let this man have hobbies and let them be as self-indulgent as possible. let him discover legos!! and make origami everything to leave around the house and lovingly annoy the crap out of his husband with paper cranes in Bucky’s socks drawer and paper planes coming at him from a crack in the bathroom door when he’s pooping. THIS is the kind of ridiculous, incandescently happy shit I want him to have, okay, this. I just!! *screams a little*

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Land of Thieves #ChapterTwo

Western/ Red Dead Redemption AU / Slow Burn / childhood best friends to lovers

AO3 (English)

Chapter warnings: explicit language, explicit violence.

Summary:  When you were a child, you swore that no matter how high the reward in your head, she could always count on you. Life as an outlaw in the west is not easy, but you believe that train robberies are still easier than asking a pretty girl to dance. Land of Thieves, also know as your love story with Wanda Maximoff in the Wild West

Marks: @mionemymind

You wished you could sleep longer when you felt the first rays of sunlight invade your tent through the tarp, the light making you instinctively raise your hand against your face to avoid the glare. You grumbled, but forced yourself to get up. You didn't bother to put on your boots, or fasten your suspenders around your shoulders, letting them fall against your waist. You stretched, walking toward the fire with the intention of making some coffee.

- Good morning, kiddo. - You heard Steve greet you, and you just nodded to him, yawning. He walked toward you, pouring himself some of the coffee you had just brewed. - I have an assignment for you.

You took a sip of the coffee, frowning at the bitter taste. You walked over to the supply wagon, looking for some milk, while Steve waited for you at the campfire, which was only a few feet away.

- What do you need, Captain? - you asked as you poured some milk into your drink. Steve smiled at the nickname. Only the early members of the gang called him that, in reference to his former position as an army captain.

- We need to restock a few things. And we haven't picked up our mail in a few days. - He says to you, reaching into something in his left pocket. He raises his hand and offers you a few dollars. - I need you to buy the items on Pepper's list from the warehouse and go to the post office.

You signal him to put the money away, finishing your coffee. 

- Don't worry, I will sell the panther skin I got yesterday. - You explain. - It's worth enough to buy the necessities, and if we need more, I still have some change left.

Steve smiled at you, grateful for your kindness in paying for the groceries. You exchanged one last glance with him before returning to your stall, looking for your clothes.

Suitably dressed, you decided to detour your way for a moment, thinking about something. You walked toward Wanda and Pietro's stall, your gaze slipping inside when you caught a glimpse of the redheaded girl's sleeping figure, the image racing your heart. You looked down uncomfortably, and thought about coming back later, but the next second Pietro stumbled out, smiling at you.

- Hey Y/N, good morning! - He greeted you while buttoning up his wool shirt.

- Good morning, gambler. - You greet him with a teasing tease that elicits a smile and a roll of the eyes from the boy. - You still haven't told me if you won anything at poker.

You followed Pietro toward the campfire, waving to Pepper as you passed the supply wagon, and she handed you the list with a grateful look as she hurried off in Peggy's company, you had no idea what they were doing. Pietro stretched as he grabbed a tangerine from a crate in the supply wagon and gave you a wicked smile.

- Of course I won at poker. - He announces and you laugh before giving him a suspicious look. - I don't understand why you doubt me; you're a great teacher.

- Of course. And that has nothing to do with you being a light-handed cheater, does it?

Pietro laughed at the insinuation, taking a bite of the fruit he was holding. You switched the weight of your feet, and he looked at you curiously.

- I wanted to ask you something. - You began, looking down at the floor. - Something about your sister.

He looks at you with a suspicious expression, but with an amused smile threatening to escape his lips. He gestures for you to ask. You hesitate for a second, then take a deep breath to gather your courage.

-Do you know if she's seeing anyone? - you ask, looking intently at Pietro. He frowns, and you hasten to add, "Romantically, I say. If there are suitors

Pietro finishes chewing the fruit slowly, increasing your anxiety considerably. And then he lets out a loud laugh.

- You've got to be kidding me. - he says between laughs. - You two are a total disaster, I can't believe it.

You looked at him with confusion and impatience, not understanding what it all meant. Was he laughing because Wanda had so many suitors that the question was ridiculous? Or maybe he was laughing at you, stupid enough to think that someone like Wanda would look at you. 

Pietro dried the tears of laughter, panting breathlessly. Before he could clarify what he had said, you heard a familiar hiss. Steve caught your eye, gesturing to his watch, signaling you to hurry.

- You can tease me later. - You grumbled to Pietro before walking towards the camp exit. Your gaze lingered on Wanda's tent, you pushed the feeling of shame to the back of your mind.

Valentine was crowded today, you thought as you took a few steps to the side of the warehouse door allowing a lady to walk past you. You greeted the shopkeeper with a nod, pulling Pepper's list from your pocket as you ran your eyes along the shelves. You decided to hand the list to the shopkeeper, knowing that he would ensure that no items were missing with the intention of charging every cent.

- Do you have a cart? - asked the man, looking up at you from the list. 

- Yes, it's parked across the street. - You informed him with your hands in your pockets.

- I'll sort it out and my boy will carry the items for you. - Said the man with a smile, you knew that kindness very well, and were not surprised when he added - A young woman can't carry that much weight alone.

With no intention of arguing, you just looked at him without smiling, which seemed to embarrass him slightly. The man made a noise in his throat, and went back to reading the list. You walked over to the newspaper section and were slightly distracted by the horse racing headlines, when you heard the shopkeeper's voice again.

- You're new to Valentine, right? - he asked, stooping to the counter to pick up a package, which you recognized as coffee. A red-haired, muscular boy entered the place through the back door, and began to carry in his arms some of the items the shopkeeper had put on the counter before leaving. 

- Yes, I came from the South. - You simply say. Steve always taught not to give too much information to strangers.

- Not exactly much to do around here, if you ask me. - Said the man, you just grumbled in agreement, but he seemed willing to hold a conversation. You considered just walking out the door and waiting outside, but you didn't want to be rude. - Nothing happens in Valentine.

- That's fine, I appreciate the quiet. - You grumbled, but he didn't seem to pay any attention. 

- We only have brutes in this town in my opinion. - The man continued his monologue, and you went back to looking at the magazines. - And when they're not brutes, they're weirdos. Even the town doctor hides out in your house, nobody knows what he's doing there.

Now you have some relevant information. You blinked intently, but the man seemed to be just complaining, and you understood that he wouldn't have any more information about this, and that it was worth your while to check with the local doctor. A few minutes passed, until the red-haired boy returned, waving to you and telling you that the wagon was loaded. You handed the shopkeeper a few dollars, and seeing the bruises on the red-haired boy's hands, you decided to give him a small tip.

You walked over to the wagon, stroking the horses before climbing on, guiding the vehicle toward the post office, which was at the other end of town. You would return to Valentine at another time to investigate the doctor.

When you arrived at the post office, you grabbed two apples from the crates behind the wagon, and handed them to each of the horses. Your boots got muddy when you climbed down, but you didn't care much.

-Hello, good morning! - greeted a man when you arrived at the booth. You smiled.

- Good morning. Do you have any mail for any of these people? - you asked, handing him a list of aliases created for the gang to receive orders. The man frowned, and took the paper and started looking through the shelves.

- You live in some kind of commune, do you? - He asked in an amused tone, given the number of names.

- Big family. - You grumbled in an almost ironic tone, and he didn't seem to notice, smiling in agreement.

After a moment, he had separated two package boxes and about five letters for you. You smiled in appreciation as he handed you the items.

-I couldn't find anything for "Carol Marvel" and "Natasha Black. - He announces as he hands you the list. You nod your head. It was common for Carol and Nat to have nothing to receive, both of them had no other family members, or friends that you knew of. And as for you, you didn't even put your name on the list anymore, the gang being the only people you had.

- All right, thank you very much. - You thanked them before you left. Stowing the packages in the cart, you kept the letters in your jacket pocket so they wouldn't get crushed.

You climbed into the vehicle again, whistling slowly as you rode back to camp. You stopped only when you heard a whistle that was not yours. Feeling a sharp pain in your shoulder, you turned your head to notice the arrow pierced through your left shoulder, and then the wagon was surrounded by about ten men, you guessed there were others within the forest around you. 

Gritting your teeth in pain you stared at the man in front of the wagon. 

- You're not from around here, stranger. - He began, stroking the horses that were quite agitated.

- What do you want? - you grumbled, feeling the sweat dripping down your face from the bleeding.

- Heartlands is O'Driscoll territory and we don't share it. - The man spoke in a warning tone. - Tell your leader that there is no room for another gang in the region.

- Fuck you. - You retorted through gritted teeth. The man let out a hoarse laugh, raising his gun at you.

- Or maybe I'll shoot you now and that will be warning enough.

You were so tired of all this shit. You couldn't even buy food without some asshole wanting to shoot you. Rolling your eyes, you raise your hands, thinking that Steve wouldn't be happy to see you die.

- I'll tell him. - You grumble. It takes him a moment to put the gun down, but when he does, he has a satisfied smile on his face. 

- Yeah, yeah, be a good girl. - The man says, and signals to the others to let go of the horses' reins. He takes a few steps to the side, allowing the cart to move. 

As you ride a few yards, you hear him shout in an ironic tone to wash the wound, and you just ignore the urge to shoot the fellow in the face.

Climbing down with difficulty from the wagon, you groan in pain as you feel the arrow still stuck against your flesh. You walk around the vehicle, unfastening the straps of the tarp that covered the cargo compartment. You groan again, feeling the wound throbbing a little. Looking around the camp, you look around for someone. When you notice the figure of Bucky a few feet away from you, you call out to him and wave for him to come closer. He smiles as he walks over to you, but his expression turns to concern as he notices the arrow in your shoulder.

- Girl, what is it? - He hurries worriedly raising his hands to touch it, you take a step towards peace, smiling helplessly.

- It's okay, I just need help unloading the wagon. - You say and Bucky looks at you with a mixture of concern and surprise, but nods frantically.

- Of course I'll help, now go treat that wound, for God's sake. - He says looking at you. You let out a breathless laugh before you leave.

Walking toward your hut, you grab some alcohol to clean the bruise, but before you can sit down, Pepper comes up to you with a worried look.

- Oh my god, Y/N, what happened? - She questions, and you mutter "ambush" but she's not paying attention. Pepper drags you into her own hut, while letting out exclamations of concern, complaining that you should have taken someone, and that you should be careful, and that the gang was in a dangerous place now, attracting the attention of several people in the camp who look at you with curiosity. 

-It's okay, Potts, really. - You speak as you feel her push you down on the bed. She reaches over to grab a makeshift medical kit. You feel embarrassed by the attention, but still appreciate the care.

- Take a deep breath, okay? - She asks, and you know what's coming. Closing your eyes, you obey, feeling her break the arrow, the movement hurts nothing compared to feeling her push the rest of it away, seconds later. You groan in pain. - There, now I'll just clean it up.

You nod with tears in your eyes. Pepper smiles tenderly at you, and you look away from her to the rest of the camp, noticing that Steve and Peggy are walking toward you.

-What the hell happened? - Steve blurts out in a mixed tone of anger and concern, he would probably already be wanting to cause a war against whoever had attacked you.

- I made some friends. - You joked, but shut up with a mumble as you felt an intense burning sensation when Pepper poured the alcohol on your wound.

- Who did this to you? - Peggy asked, stepping closer as she watched Pepper clean the wound.

- They surrounded me a few meters from town, on that stretch of road covered with trees. - You explained, looking at Peggy. - About ten men, maybe more hiding. They said that this is O'Driscoll territory and that they won't share it.

Peggy and Steve exchanged a look, until Steve assumed a thoughtful pose, turning away.

- They could become a problem in the bank's job. - He says simply, and you frown.

- They are already a problem now. - rebuts Pepper, looking away from your wound. - If they attack our people in the streets!

- That was just an idle threat. - Steve retorted without looking at Pepper. You hated it when he assumed this posture of being the owner of the truth. - If they were going to kill someone they would have done it. Maybe they think that we want to take Heartlands from their domain, we just need to warn them that we have no interest and that we will only be here for a while.

- Steve, we can't risk everyone's safety. - Peggy said looking at the man, and he offered her a tender smile. 

- I'll talk to them, Peggy. - He explained. - If they don't accept, then we will fight.

You let out a surprised exclamation.

- A gang war before a bank robbery? You've got to be kidding. - You retorted and felt the three of them stare at you. - And who do you intend to take to these two services? The last time I checked, half of the shooters were wounded.

-I don't understand your attitude. - scolded Steve, causing you to swallow dryly. - I'm trying to do what's best for the gang.

- How is putting us at risk the best thing for the gang?

Steve looked really shocked, and even hurt by your words. But he straightened his posture before he spoke.

- Treat your wound first and rest. We will talk after that.

And he left. Peggy gave you a tender look, as if to wish you to get better, before following Steve to his tent. Pepper patted your thigh as she finished dressing your shoulder. You sighed, looking at the ground.

- Y/N, get some rest, okay. - She said to you in a calm tone. - We are all nervous lately, and I know that you hate fighting with Steve as much as he hates fighting with you.

You shook your head in agreement, a sad smile on your lips. 

- Thanks for the bandage, Potts. - You said softly, and she smiled, placing a tender kiss on your forehead. You smiled.

Leaving the tent, you walked around the camp toward the stream, feeling quite thirsty. It took three seconds for Pietro to surround you.

- I can't believe you got an arrow shot through you while buying coffee. - He announced in an amused tone, but his eyes showed his concern. You laughed softly, and continued walking toward the creek, being accompanied by him.

- You know how rival gangs are. They shoot first and ask questions later.

- I saw Steve coming out of the hut with a scowl on his face. Did you fight?

You groaned.

- Oh yes. I was being an unfair jerk and he was being a hardhead. - You grumbled, stooping down to drink some water.

- Damn it, I'm sorry. But you'll figure it out. It's not like Steve's going to be mad at you for very long. 

- I hope so. - You say, sitting down at the edge of the stream, and enjoying some of the breeze. Pietro looks unnerved. - What's the matter with you, anyway? You're nervous.

He is silent for a moment, and then sits down next to you.

- Promise me you won't get angry? 

The sentence makes you look at him suspiciously.

- What did you do?

He hesitates a moment, looking away from you to the stream as he drums his fingers on his knee.

- Look, I know you warned me to stop cheating, but it seemed so easy...

- Pietro... - You interrupted in a warning tone, looking at him with concern.

- Damn, I screwed up everything, okay? - He spoke in a tone of guilt and despair. - I thought that there were only peons with me at the table, but then one of them saw me stealing and the next second two brutes appeared and I almost got shot.

You blinked a few times, frowning. Feeling a slight headache coming on, you signaled for him to continue explaining.

- I don't know who they are, but they're staying in Limpany. - He said, looking back at you.

- You're an idiot. - You grumbled, looking back at the creek. - How many men did you say?

- I played with one of them, and there were two more as security. - He explained, you started planning. - I guess it's a small group, since they're all at the brothel.

You nodded, lifting your knees to rest your arms and head against them. You closed your eyes for a second.

- I imagine that you have no intention of paying off the bets. - You said in an ironic tone.

- Well, I don't have two thousand. - He replied in the same tone, and you let out a surprised exclamation.

- What the hell were you doing at a two thousand table? - you exclaimed, and Pietro shrugged, causing you to roll your eyes. - I told you to only play with what you can cover, idiot.

- And what's the fun in that? - He grinned back, and you grinned back at him, it was true after all. You took one last look at the stream, and sighed wearily.

- Five minutes. I had five minutes of peace. - You grumbled, and Pietro laughed.

- You're getting crankier every day, you know. - He teased, and you gave him the middle finger, which made him laugh. You both stood up, and Pietro pushed his shoulder lightly against yours several times on the way to the horses.

Limpany was so small, you were surprised they even considered it a town. It was in the middle of nowhere, in front of the same river that flowed into the camp. You guessed that the main income from that place came from the town's brothel, which was probably visited by the citizens of Valentine as well as Rhodes, and of course by the many travelers passing through.

You warned Pietro not to attract attention, and he rode silently beside you, following your lead. You left your horses at the entrance to town, and walked together toward the saloon, which was buzzing with the noise of music and voices.

But then the place fell silent the moment you stepped through the door. Even the pianist looked at you angrily. What the hell had Pietro done in this place, you thought. Two tall, stout men stepped out of the crowd, signaling to the bartender that all was well, and the music resumed. The brothel girls laughed again, and everyone focused on their drinks and games. You swallowed dryly as you watched the man approach, and Pietro took a step beside you.

- The little thief decided to show up. - Said the bigger man in an ironic tone - Do you have my money, boy?

- How about I bet the money back?  - You suggest to the man and he looks you up and down, a mischievous smile on his face.

- Sweetie, you can pay me back another way. - He says, and Pietro gets angry enough to push him away. The two men are as quick as you are to draw their revolvers. 

- Hey, Louis, please. No guns in the saloon. - says the bartender in a fearful tone, you imagine it took a lot of courage for him to give some kind of order around here. The taller man laughs lightly and then points his revolver at the bartender, who raises his trembling hands. Seeing the man's desperation, the man named Louis lets out a laugh and lowers his revolver, nudging his friend by the shoulders to do the same. You only holster your gun when he holsters his. - I'm just messing with you, Charles. - Mocks Louis, and then he turns to you.

Pietro continues with a defensive posture around you, and you almost laugh at the thought that it was him in the first place who will ask for your help. But any thoughts of amusement are quickly interrupted when the man suddenly punches Pietro in the face. You widen your eyes in surprise, and hold your friend back from advancing on the man again. You notice the worried and curious looks at you, and you also see two other angry looking men standing up, which suggests that they might be members of the group. You wouldn't stand a chance to fight them all off.

- I suggest you only come back here with my money. - The man grunts and turns to walk toward the bar. 

You raise Pietro's face with both hands, noting the damage from the punch. His nose was bleeding but not broken. He looked irritated. You sighed, and gave him a short smile as you said softly.

- There are five men in total. Two at the bar, one on the stairs, and two more at the back. Can you see them?

- Yes. - mumbled Pietro, running his eyes around the saloon. 

- Can you aim? 

He nodded, and you patted him on the cheek before turning around. Taking a deep breath, you quickly drew your revolver, three shots echoed through the room, and were followed by two more. Screams echoed along with the sound of bodies falling to the ground. The vast majority of the people were too shocked to react, but many ran out of the saloon. You walked over to the body of the man who had punched Pietro.

- If we have any luck, it's just these. - You said checking to see if he had anything of value.

And then you heard shots outside, and someone shouted:

- The bastards are in the saloon! 

- I think you spoke too soon. - joked Pietro, and you ran to use the door frame as cover. 

At this point, the vast majority of the people ran out of the saloon through the back door, desperate with the commotion and afraid of being shot.

- Steve had said that bar fights were forbidden, right? - You joked, and Pietro laughed as he loaded his revolver. Someone shot at the door and you turned your face to the right.

- I think he just said that you were forbidden to fight. - Pietro replied in the same tone, putting his arm out to the side and firing twice. You started exchanging fire with the men outside, but it wasn't easy to aim correctly. - In fact, I am surprised. 

- At what? - you asked as you finally hit someone. You hid your whole body against the doorframe to reload your revolver.

- You still haven't asked where Wanda is. - He teased, and you felt your cheeks heat up, but you laughed. He wasn't lying after all.

You managed to hit two more shots, but they were not accurate, and the men continued to fire, although with less precision. You let out an impatient grunt.

- You know, I think you should give up poker. - you commented, drawing a laugh from Pietro. 

- And I think you should propose to my sister. - He hits back and you almost get shot, stumbling back in surprise. Pietro laughs but looks at you, worried that you've been shot. You assure him that you are fine with a nod. 

- Don't say things like that to me in the middle of a gunfight, please. 

Pietro laughs and then puts the body out, firing three more shots. The noises finally stop.

- Now that this is over, can we talk about it then? - He asked in a provocative tone, you blush and look at the floor as you walk him out of the saloon.

- You're very annoying, you know. - You grumble, and then you look around, but identify no one else wanting to shoot at you. 

Quickly checking the bodies for anything of value, you feel Pietro tap you on the shoulder signaling you to get up, and when you look up you see the town sheriff walking towards you.

- Murder and pillaging is punishable by hanging. - He comments while holding a stick between his teeth. It doesn't sound like a threat.

- Not interfering with the shooting is punishable by what, officer? - Pietro retorts, and the man smiles slightly. 

Ignoring the provocation, he walks toward the body of one of the men you have killed. He kicks the body slightly to the right, showing his face bloodied from the bullet in his forehead.

- See the scar? - He asks and Pietro nods in agreement, you just stare at the body intently. - These bastards are Lemonye's raiders. They took over the town weeks ago. - The sheriff looks around for a moment, observing the curious looks of the inhabitants who were hiding in the few establishments in Limpany. - We have no gunslingers around here, no one strong enough to stop domains like these. And well, the state has no interest in protecting a place that has no cattle, gold or oil.

- We are not gunslingers. - Pietro tried to lie, and the sheriff just let out a laugh.

- Of course. - He spoke in a slightly ironic tone. - Just good friends from the neighborhood. - And then he assumed a serious posture. - Anyway, I have to thank you for what you've done here. 

- Why don't you make a deal with Valentine's sheriff? - you asked after a moment. Neither you nor Pietro felt exactly honored to have helped the town, killing was not exactly something you enjoyed doing, although it was almost always indispensable in the life you led. The sheriff let out a dry laugh at your statement.

- That man is too concerned about the married ladies of his town to help me. - He replied simply. - Don't worry about the bodies, I'll get the boys from the brothel to help me with it. I won't report you to the state either.

Pietro smiled but you just nodded, nudging his arm to let him follow you. You waved your hats lightly in farewell to the sheriff before you left.

You rode off in silence, and you told Pietro that you should ride in the opposite direction, because one should never ride straight back to camp after conflicts like these. He nodded, and you both rode in silence.

- Wanda went to Saint Denis. 

Pietro's voice startled you. Blinking in confusion, you were very distracted and had to look at him to be sure that he had really said something. Noticing his insinuating smile, you confirmed that he had.

- I didn't ask. - You grumbled stubbornly, and Pietro chuckled.

You spent a moment in silence, before you gave in to the urge to know more.

- Not that I have any interest in that. - You started without looking at the man riding beside you. - But why did she go to Saint Denis?

- Work. - He answered, hiding a smile, and you squeezed your hammock slightly at the vague answer. And then Pietro let out a chuckle. - Didn't you just say you have no interest in knowing? - he teased, and you let out a lame laugh.

- Screw you, Pietro. - You mumbled, and you continued in silence for a moment.

- I really can't tell you. - He said after a while, and you frowned. - If you ask me, I think she went to buy you a present.

- What? - you exclaimed in a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. Pietro laughed at your expression.

- Have you forgotten that it's your birthday the day after tomorrow? - he teased. - I already bought your present too, by the way.

- You didn't have to buy anything. - You said, looking forward, your cheeks flushed. - But I'm sure I'll love it.

Pietro smiled, and you were silent. You really had a tendency to forget your birthday, and this was probably because it wasn't really your birthday. The date had been chosen by Steve, as the day he adopted you as part of the gang, but you had no idea if it was even close to your actual birth. You were too small to remember what day it really was, and besides, you didn't have any documents. So you just accepted the chosen date. And in outlaw life, it wasn't really your priority. Almost every year you forgot, and were always pleasantly surprised by the other gang members with cake and music. Unlike the twins' birthdays, where you always took time out of your day to do some activity with them, you didn't feel very comfortable with all the attention, so you always spent your birthdays inside the camp, helping out with chores like a normal day. You were lost in your own thoughts, when you heard Pietro whistle softly for you to stop, and you looked at him confused. He got off his horse, stretching his body.

- You're bleeding, miss. - he warned as if it were obvious. You blinked and then looked down at your shoulder, the cotton bandage completely red. - Come here, I'll clean it for you.

You dismounted the Horseman carefully, and now that the adrenaline had left your body, you felt your shoulder ache. Unbuttoning your shirt, you walked over to Pietro as you took it off. He gave you a playful look and whistled.

- Wanda is going to lose her mind on her wedding night. - he teased, and you felt your face heat up.

- Are you willing to get punched in the face again? - You retorted angrily and awkwardly.

He just laughed and made a motion with his hand to the water in the lake, making you wet. You let out an irritated grunt, feeling the cold liquid against your body.

- I'm really going to punch you, Pietro. 

- Shush, stop being grumpy. Sit here. - He said, pointing to the rock beside the lake.

You sat down and he began to change the bandage in silence. You looked at him while you waited, and he made a few faces that made you laugh.

- There you go. - He announced after a while

- Thank you. 

When you thanked him, he looked at you seriously, and you didn't get up.

- You won't hurt my sister, right? - he asked, looking straight at you. Feeling your heart race a little, you swallowed hard.

- I have no intention of doing that. - You confess sincerely, and Pietro shakes his head.

- I know we are like family, but I won't forgive you if you hurt Wanda. - Pietro says in the same tone, his gaze wavering between you and the lake beside you. You sigh

- I won't forgive myself if I hurt her either. - You confess with your head down, and Pietro puts a hand on your healthy shoulder.

- I think it will be fun to be your brother-in-law. - He jokes and you laugh, pushing him lightly. - I'm hungry, can we stop at a saloon before we head back to the camp?

- Sure, Pietro. - You say, getting up. - Rhodes is closer, and they have great rooms. We can spend the night.

- Any chance we could play poker? - He jokes, and you tell him to shut up, nudging him with your shoulder as he lets out a laugh.

When you finally get back to the camp, it is almost lunchtime for the next day. Pietro sleeps a lot when he drinks, and you saw him with a bottle of beer being escorted by a pretty girl toward his room in the Saloon in Rhodes, both of them stumbling slightly while you laughed and played with your set of cards. Then it took a while for you both to leave town for the camp. 

You nodded to him as you walked toward your own tent, while you unbuckled your belt and holster to throw them on the bed. You were changing into more comfortable clothes when you heard someone calling you.

- Can we talk, kid? - Steve's deep voice came into your tent. You looked away, closing the trunk of clothes on the floor of your bed.

-Sure, Steve. - You said and followed him toward the camp trail, and you walked side by side in silence for a few minutes.

- Do you think I'm putting everyone in danger? - he asked after a while, his tone slightly concerned.

You felt your cheeks heat with guilt.

- I'm sorry I said that. - You mumbled. - It wasn't fair.

- We don't apologize for telling the truth. - He retorted, making you smile.

- The truth is that we all chose this outlaw life, Steve. - You said, stopping walking to look at him. - I guess I was just trying to pin my frustration on someone. Things have been going wrong ever since we left Armadillo. 

Steve lets out a sigh.

- Yes, I had that feeling too. - He confesses, looking away to his surroundings. - But I'm optimistic about everything. We've been through worse, right? We just need to get back to our normal rhythm.

- I think so. - You grumble. - Things will get better when we're all here.

- Oh, sure. - Steve seems to remember something and you look at him curiously. - Maria and Monica came back yesterday while you were away. They must be packing up.

You felt a wave of excitement rush through your body, but then you took on an almost disappointed expression, and Steve added:

- Natasha will show up soon, don't overthink it. - He tried to reassure you, and you looked down at the floor.

- It's been two weeks since she left for Tumbleweed. - You grumbled, and Steve laughed lightly.

- Which happens to be on the other side of the country. - He pointed in a playful tone. - Nat will still have to decipher Peggy's letter to find us. And the trip from Tumbleweed to the Heartlands is not a short one. Relax a bit.

You shrugged, knowing he was right. Steve came over and ruffled your hair after a while, laughing tenderly and earning a grumble from you.

- How's your shoulder? - he asked, watching you try to fix your own hair with a grimace.

- Sore. - you said, and he nodded.

- Do you think you'll be able to shoot it during the robbery?

You chose not to mention that you had been involved in a shooting less than twenty hours ago, so you just nodded. Steve smiled and looked straight ahead. You followed his gaze, feeling your heart race a little as you saw Wanda, at the moment laughing as she helped Bucky carry some wood and he made faces as if he was trying too hard to lift the weight.

- You'll be eighteen tomorrow, won't you? - Steve asked in a gentle tone, and you agreed softly, without looking away from Wanda. - At that age, it is common for young women to be courted.

You almost choked at the insinuation, and turned your head very quickly to the side, watching Steve stare ahead, a playful smile threatening to escape.

- What are you talking about now? - You asked awkwardly, and he let out a little laugh.

- I'm just trying to say that it's perfectly normal at this age...

- God, I'm not talking about this with you. - You grumbled, your cheeks flushed, making him laugh. You looked forward, staring at your feet.

- Now, don't be so grumpy. - He teased, If we were like those families in the city, I'd have married you to some magnate about five years ago.

You let out an indignant sigh.

- If my father had tried to marry me off by force, I would have fled the country. - You started - And then I would have ended up as an outlaw, just like now.

Steve laughed, and you looked around again.

- I'm only saying that because you and Pietro have been riding together a lot. - And ignoring the look of absolute horror on your face, Steve continued. - And he's a decent guy, he'd be a good choice.

- I have to admit that it is brave of you to assume that I would marry any of the guys we met. - You countered, and Steve laughed heartily. - Although Pietro is a good man, we are just friends. I've never seen him like this.

- If none of the guys catch your eye, what about the girls? - Steve asks and you feel your stomach sink with nervousness, he continues talking however, not expecting your answer. - I know you're missing Natasha terribly.

��My dear God. - You grumble with reddened cheeks, bringing your hand to your face to cover it in embarrassment. You laugh nervously. - You really do get everything wrong. - You say, staring at him after a moment, you decide to tease him. - Not everyone is in love with their best friends, you know?

Steve chokes in surprise, but laughs at your teasing. He looks away, and replies:

- I know, I know, especially since Wanda isn't your best friend, is she?

You blush profusely, and mumble something like "mind your own business" before leaving in a huff. Steve laughs as he walks with you, and you walk back to your tent and he says goodbye, ruffling your hair again, making you let out a dissatisfied exclamation.

Back in your tent, you try to fix your hair as you look in the half-broken mirror that hangs from one of the canvas's timbers, and you blush when you see Wanda through the reflection standing at the entrance to your room.

- Hi. - She greeted you with a smile, and you turned around, feeling warm, and smiled back.

- Hi Wanda. - Trying to hide your complete lack of posture, you kept your hands in your pockets, pressing your fingers against the fabric. - I haven't seen you for a while, everything okay?

- I should be the one asking you that. - She comments, stepping closer. You hold your breath when you feel her inches from your face. She shifts her gaze from yours to your shoulder, pulling your shirt aside to see the bandage. - Does it still hurt?

You ignore the uneven beating of your heart as you deny it with your head. She smiles at you, without turning away.

- Knowing you and Pietro, I'm sure he's already told you what I went to Saint Denis for. - She comments with a slight smile, and you think she is going to pull away, but she brings her face closer to your ear. You feel something in your stomach clench as you hear her whisper, her breath tickling your skin. - I went to get your present.

Holy fucking God, you think, closing your eyes for a moment. Your body becomes hypersensitive to Wanda, but she pulls away in the next moment. Her cheeks are slightly reddened, but she has a falsely innocent look on her face that makes you realize she knows exactly the effect she has on you.

- You're not going to tell me what it is, are you? - you ask, relaxing your body slightly, which attracts the attention of Wanda, who looks at you with her pupils slightly dilated. - Not even a hint? 

You joke in a playful tone, pouting, and watch Wanda look down at your mouth. She smiles and grabs your belt and holster from the bed, only to approach you again, causing you to lose all relaxed posture. Without saying anything, she lifts the belt, and to slip it behind your back she comes even closer, her breasts bouncing against yours, making you hold your breath. She closes the belt in front of you and gives you a mischievous smile.

- That's your cue. - She whispers, and you can't think of anything with her so close. 

-R-right. - You say breathlessly, Wanda bites her lips, a smile threatening to escape. She gives you one last look before turning away. You let out a breath you hadn't even realized you were holding.

- Let's get some lunch before Bucky comes to grab us by the hair. - She says in a playful tone, pulling you by the hand out of the tent. 

- I want to hear about what you found along the road, Wands. - You told her, honestly, you just wanted to hear her talk to you, even if it was to say that she had ridden in silence for twelve hours. Wanda smiled in agreement with a nod of her head. She only let go of your hand when she needed to grab the quilt from the soaking, and you tried not to miss the feeling so much.

[anxiousstark]

All that’s left

KO-FI | BIG MASTERLIST | 

I normally only read related to Chris Evans and his characters, but here we are.

Word count: 1909

Warnings: Mentions of  injuries, blood, swearing (always), death, etc.

↪ PLEASE RESPECT MY WORK. DON’T COPY, TRANSLATE OR CLAIM THEM AS YOURS. NOT ON THIS WEBSITE OR ANOTHER. ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED.

All the things you went through could not be compared to the last battle of your life, the one where to save an entire world, numerous people you deeply loved had gradually lost theirs.

It was a terrifying feeling, observing the bright light in their eyes fade away while their eyelids drooped until there was no more energy to keep them open. The guttural voices were stuck in your head as their mouths opened and closed several times. The way they attempted to swallow, believing that the action would let them say their last words. Some got to announce their latest wishes or goodbyes, others weren't so fortunate, gagging on their blood.

Everyone knew that this last war would bring grief, guilt and trauma. And even though everyone knew that some people would inevitably be left behind, they also deeply hoped for them to survive. But perhaps, it was too much to ask for the universe or whoever was up there.

Natasha Romanoff, also known as Black Widow. She was probably one of those people you couldn't help but end up loving like an older sister. She tried to maintain that witty, cold facade to avoid people from deceiving her. Nevertheless, you always thought that she didn't need to maintain an image. Everyone knew how great Natasha Romanoff was.

Deep inside, every one of the Avengers knew that they would lose her. Nat had been a woman with a tough childhood and life. She was someone who believed and claimed not to have a family. Of course, all of this, before she became part of the Avengers. A group of people who would have given their lives for her. However, she was the one who gave up her life.

You sometimes glimpsed at Clint when he was in the compound, staring at the space Nathasa always preferred. It was her seat, her place. An empty one.

You had cried. You had mourned when Clint had come back, swearing he had tried to save her. You knew he had. Everyone knew. But they also knew how Natasha's mind worked. They knew she would sacrifice herself for Clint, one of the closest Avengers to her, and the one who had a wife and children waiting at home.

Notwithstanding, there was a big pain in your heart. You hoped that she felt loved, that she knew that every one of the Avengers had lost a piece of soul and brightness as soon as they understood she was never coming back.

That night, it was Steve Rogers who held you tightly even if his heart was as broken as yours, or even more. His fingers had intertwined with the locks of your hair as he shushed you while his body rocked your own one. If only that was the only sadness you would have to go through.

Not long after Natasha passed away, Tony Stark had sacrificed his life for those he loved. At that time, everything was over. The war with Thanos was over. But, another war invaded everyone. The internal war of dealing with the death of Tony Stark.

How unfair, right? The joker, the one who always tried his best to cheer others up even if it was with sarcastic comments. The one who seemed the brightest was leaving certain darkness in everyone's hearts.

You never expected to see Tony sitting down against ruins as he tried to say his last words to the woman of his life. God, Morgan was just a child and she was back home, of course. Pepper would have to tell the little girl that her dad wouldn't be coming back. Ever.

Tony fought, he fought to stay in this world for a couple of minutes more. He had expressed his everlasting love to Pepper, telling her to remind Morgan of how much he loved her and how she was his salvation. Tony had hugged Peter, repeating over and over again that he believed in him. He was proud of the teenager. Parker would just cry while nodding his head. And then, Tony peeped at you. He wanted to offer you a smile, but the pain was too much for that. The Tony Stark legacy was yours too, and he had pleaded for you to teach Morgan everything you knew. Everything he had taught you.

And as soon as the last flick of life left his eyes, everyone was kneeling on the ground. Steve was beside you, clutching your hand tightly as you sobbed.

Tony Stark was the one who rescued you a couple of years ago. You were someone lost in life. Too young to have all of those horrible thoughts invading your mind. He had just decided to take you in and show you all the potential you had. That's when you started working alongside Tony and Bruce, after learning everything from them.

Before his funeral, you sat next to Pepper and Morgan as Tony had prepared a hologram. You had chuckled because Tony had to leave in a big way.

He looked so real. He looked as if he was sitting down on that chair. And sometimes, it seemed like he could actually look at all of you. Of course, all of this was just what it looked like.

"Then again, that's the hero gig, right?" His eyes seemed to shift from Pepper to you. "Part of the journey is the end." You felt Morgan getting closer to your body. "What am I even tripping for?" Your hand softly rested on her back as Tony got up from his seat. "Everything is gonna work out," He was standing in front of the three of you. "Exactly like it's supposed to." His eyes seemed to find the ones of the little girl. "I love you 3,000." Then, he just vanished, once again.

The day of the funeral was horrible, everyone cried because Tony Stark was deeply loved. Because everything that happened was proof that Tony Stark had a heart.

However, if we talked about the present, your heart ached as much as your legs. Your heart throbbed because Steve had left a letter on your door, letting you know that he was going to return the stones to the same moment where he got them. Steve was leaving. Perhaps not to come back.

And your legs ached because you were running to the only place where you knew he could be right now. In the distance, you could recognise Bruce, Sam and Bucky. The Captain was getting on the platform, his suit changing from the usual one to red and white. "Steve!" You continued running, not thinking you will arrive on time. Steve made a gesture, begging Bruce to continue with the process. "Steve! Please!" Tears started running down your cheeks.

"Going Quantum," Bruce informed. "Three,"

"Steve, I swear to god I will kill you!" You tried to run faster, but your legs gave up as you fell to the ground. "Steve Rogers, I swear to god!" You screamed once again, getting up and ignoring the mud stuck to your cheeks due to your tears.

"Two..." Sam and Bucky looked between the both of you. The Falcon was pained to see you in that situation as much as Bucky. Both of them were your friends. And both of them had noticed the longing gazes you directed towards their other friend.

"STEVE!" You were now closer to Bruce, quickly stopping the machine. "Don't you dare to turn it on." Your finger accusingly pointed at Banner, who nodded, a little frightened of how angry you were.

"Y/N," A firm voice sounded. "I need to get back and put these stones where they bel-."

"Who are you trying to lie to?" Your voice cracked. "You are going back to the past and you will not return." You shook your head. "And that's not fair on Sam because he had started to like you and he considers you his friend now, right?" I glanced at Sam, who bit his lower lip and nodded. "That's not fair on Bucky! He has always been there for you and you are just going to leave him? You can't just leave him, Steve!" Bucky sighed, glancing at the floor. "We just lost a lot of people we profoundly loved. It is unfair that you make us go through that once again because-."

"Breathe." He interrupted me. "This isn't my place anymore."

You yelled, trying to get rid of some of the anger invading your body. "You, Steve Rogers, are the biggest liar ever!" He furrowed his eyebrows, sighing and letting you go on. "You gotta move on," You repeated those words. The words he had told a group of people who were trying to get through the losses of the blip. "You gotta move on. The world is in our hands. It's left to us, guys. And we gotta do something with it." You were now sobbing harder. "O-otherwise..."

"I'm sorry," He whispered. "But, this life is no longer for me, Y/N." He glanced at Bruce, then back at you. "I wish I didn't have to do this."

"Nothing is making you go back!" You cried. "You can return the stones then come back to us and-." You gasped. "Steve, I know I'm selfish for saying this but please, don't go back to her-."

"Y/N," His voice was firmer this time. "I have nothing to do here, okay? Believe me. Yes, I will have to leave you all, but that's a price I must pay. You knew I always felt like this was not my world. Everything was always too strange for me." He sighed. "Don't get me wrong, I love you all. Especially, you. I love you. But I'm not the one you deserve." Tears fell down his cheeks. "Take care."

Before you could say anything more, he disappeared. You glanced at Bruce, glaring at him for listening to Steve and then, you got on the platform, screaming with all your strength. "That's for me to decide, Steve Rogers! That's for me to decide!" You recovered as soon as possible, running towards Bruce after noticing that Steve wasn't back yet. "Bring him! Bring him back!" Bucky walked closer to you, resting a hand on your shoulder as you continued crying. "How long until he comes back?"

Sam glanced at the other two men, sighing. "He isn't coming back." He coughed. His voice cracking. "Steve isn't coming back."

"He believes he isn't apt for this world." Before you could answer, Bucky interrupted you. "I know, it sounds stupid. But he truly felt like that." He shuffled closer to you. "He didn't go back to Peggy. Believe me."

"Then why?"

"Because he believed he wasn't enough for you." Sam stepped forward. "We tried to let him know that he was. But he said that he was never able to be there for you as much as he wanted to." He was always there. "He went back to safety. To the world, he knew. A world without," He glanced around. "All of this."

"A world without me." There was no reason to justify his actions, even if you wanted to. "So... this is all that's left."

"Not all." Bucky placed a tiny box on your hand. "He would probably kill me if he knew I gave you this. But I think you deserve to know. You deserve to...just...open it."

A ring. There was a ring with both of your names. A wedding ring.

[wkemeup]

Cold, Cold Water

summary: While on a stakeout in the heart of Russia, Bucky learns that touch can bring something more than pain and he will willingly give himself over to the ice if it means keeping you alive. pairing: Bucky x reader word count: 10.5k warnings: SMUT (18+), 🎶stake-me-out tonight🎶, some violence, near drowning, hypothermia, that good ol’ we-gotta-share-body-heat-or-you-might-die trope a/n: this was written for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​‘s follower celebration! My prompt was “have you been crying?” This clearly took on a whole life of its own...

Bucky didn’t care much for the cold. It always seemed to be more of a challenge to his mind than his body. It took him back to darker memories of enclosed spaces and lapses of time, to handlers barking orders and the electricity of the chair. Whenever a chill swept up his spine, he had to remind himself of who he was, had convince himself he was safe and not about to lose another decade under ice.

The serum pumping through his veins aided in keeping the shivers to a minimum and allowed him to tolerate more than most when it came to freezing temperatures but it didn’t make it any easier to sit in an unmarked car, deep into central Russia, watching as his breath left his lungs in small, isolated fogs.

He started to wonder why he ever agreed to take on a reconnaissance mission in a place where the icy cold of the air stung in his nose with each inhale. That was, until he heard the soft rustle of your jacket beside him as you yawned, readjusting your position, and he remembered.

He went for you.

You were curled up against the passenger door, huddled under three layers of t-shirts, sweatshirts, and a heavy woolen jacket, though it didn’t seem to stop your constant shivering. The clicks of your teeth chattering together hadn’t ceased since you’d arrived to the frozen wasteland nearly two weeks prior and while Bucky offered to take the first watch of the night in hopes you’d get some rest, you had yet to even close your eyes.

Forehead pressed against the window, you winced as you tried to get comfortable along the stiff seats of the dated car. Knees tucked up to your chest, arms wrapped tightly around your legs trying to preserve warmth, your breaths were shaky on every exhale.

Bucky swallowed nervously, stealing glances at you from the corner of his eye as he tried to keep focus on the target of the mission.

An arms dealer by the name of Ivanov paced back and forth in front of the window to his apartment, only his shadow visible from Bucky’s position in the car. Every few seconds, Bucky turned and caught a glimpse of you pushing your rosy cheeks into the wrap of your scarf or carefully blowing hot air on your hands, but nothing seemed to help the icy cold of your skin.

It made his stomach turn, watching you try to keep warm despite the freezing temperatures outside. You had reluctantly asked to start the engine of the car after sitting on your hands for nearly two hours and Bucky hated having to tell you no, that any kind of attention drawn to the car could blow the cover. You had nodded, understanding, but your lips were turning blue.

Bucky wanted nothing more than to take your discomfort away, to give you the advantage of the serum so he could suffer through the chills in your place. He’d do just about anything for you, he realized.

He didn’t have a way of quantifying his relationship to you but he knew it sat somewhere beyond friendship and less than what he wanted, needed.

When Steve first brought him to the compound a year earlier after he’d been pardoned, he had been a shell of the man he was in the forties. As much as Steve tried, Bucky couldn’t be the man his friend so desperately wanted him to be. He was something else now, something darker and broken, something irredeemable and lost. He was sure of it.

Until he met you.

Like the first breath of air after his lungs had filled with water, you walked into his life and gave him something he hadn’t known in decades. Hope.

You never walked on eggshells with him, never avoided him when he walked in the room, always sent him the kind of smile that warmed over the ice in his chest even when he could give you nothing but scowls and hardened features in return. You never pushed him beyond what he could handle, but you were determined to get him to open up, to feel safe, to have someone he could call a friend, who appreciated him for the man he was and not for the absence of who he used to be.

Over time, he started to notice himself smile when you walked in the room. He started to give you answers to your questions longer than a few words and started asking questions of his own. He started to seek you out when you didn’t show up in the kitchen for coffee at your usual hour and started asking if you had any suggestions for shows he should catch up on since Parker hooked him up with some streaming site he couldn’t remember the name of. You had smiled so bright, Bucky almost melted.

Through it all, Bucky wished more than anything else that he could forget about his past, that he could start fresh and let himself fall for a woman he so clearly had feelings for. But every time someone came too close to him, his heart skyrocketed so fast he was sure he might pass out.

He hated that it happened even when it was you.

Unsurprisingly, you were incredibly observant and seemed to be the only one who noticed the way he flinched when Steve proudly patted him on the back the day he recalled another memory from their childhood and when Wanda had kindly touched his arm apologetically when she almost knocked him over on her way off the elevator. You noticed that he backed away whenever someone got too close and how he’d jump up off the couch like something had burned him if anyone sat close enough to touch his thigh.

Much like the cold, he didn’t do well with touch either, he supposed.

Add it to the list.

While you never confronted him, you made sure to be cautious of it, always letting him take that step on the days he was comfortable to do so. He wondered if you knew how much your kindness affected him, if you understood that the gentleness you treated him with was more than he’d known in decades and every time you pushed the boundaries and let your hand graze over his, his heart skipped a beat for the right reasons.

He was getting better with the idea of touch and, slowly, he came to find that he wasn’t so afraid of it if it was coming from you.

He started missing the feel of your fingertips ghosted over his arm in such a whisper that they were gone before he even realized they were there. He craved the way your thigh would brush against his as you sunk down onto the couch for movie nights before you realized how close you had sat next to him and scooted away apologetically. He needed the way you reached out to steady him with a close hold on the flesh of his shoulder like he needed air.

You grounded him, brought him back to the surface after decades of swimming underwater, and he wasn't even sure if you knew.

So, as he watched you struggled to keep your arms from shaking, the clouds of your breath forming from your lips, he wondered if maybe he could do something about it after all, if maybe he could push past the accelerating beat of his heart to ease your discomfort.

“You’re shaking,” Bucky said, flatter than he meant to, almost too clinically, like an observation that left out the underlying concern he felt.

You nodded, trying to push out a smile despite the cracks in your lips. “Well, we are in Russia. K-Kinda known for being c-cold.”

Bucky swallowed, turning to check on Ivanov again who hadn’t moved from the window in his living room. He sighed, trying to work up some courage, and pushed the arm rest up between you until the front seat was more of a bench than two separate seats. Old cars had their advantages even if the insulation was shit.

He nodded for you to come closer, reaching out and gently tugging on the shoulder of your jacket. Your eyes darted down to where his hand gripped lightly at your sleeve, surprise clearly written on your features. You narrowed your eyes up at him, confused and Bucky licked his lips.

“Just come here, will ya?” Bucky requested nervously, a slight chuckle in his voice to mask the anxiety he felt. “You’re gonna freeze over there.”

“Are you—Are you sure?” you asked hesitantly, always so cautious with him in a way that made his stomach twist. “You don’t have to do that for me, Buck. I know it’s hard for you when people get too cl--”

“You’re not just ‘people,’” Bucky replied quicker than he meant to. He swallowed thickly, watching as a violent tremor swept up your spine and you grimaced, unable to suppress it for his sake, though you tried. Bucky sighed. “Please, Y/n, you’re turning blue. I need you to not freeze to death on me if we’re gonna get this guy. Let me save your life, doll.”

He pushed out a smile for you and it seemed to ease your reluctance. He knew why you were being so hesitant, though. A few months back, he had been thrown into a full-fledged panic attack in the heart of Brooklyn when an eight-year-old fan had rushed up and hugged him without warning. He kept it together long enough to not scare the poor kid, but you had to drag him down an alleyway away from the busy streets to help ground him again. It took you nearly twenty minutes to calm him down again and Bucky could see that same fear in your eyes now, like you might be the one to put him back in that state.

“I’m okay, Y/n. I can handle it,” he said sincerely before he reached forward and took one of your hands in his.

You were like ice and you practically sighed in relief as warmth radiated from his grip. He’d held your hand before, once, when you found him shaking in the middle of the night and he couldn’t handle more than the soft touch of your hand in his. It felt different now and not because your skin was frozen to the touch.

Bucky smiled as you squeezed his hand, searching for more of his heat. It was working.

“You’re a furnace,” you gasped, pressing the back of his hand to your cheeks and he nearly hissed from how cold you were.

“So come here, then,” he chuckled, pulling you closer by the hand and you laughed under the cold clouds of your breath, crawling closer to him.

It took a moment before you situated yourself, sitting stiffly at his side, still with a few inches between you. He’d spent too long keeping you at a distance that you were practically conditioned not to touch him, even if he was initiating it.

With a surge of confidence, Bucky reached around your lap and tucked his had around your outer thigh, scooting you closer until the length of your leg was pressed against his.

Your eyes were wide and he tried to hide the blush in his cheeks as he avoided your stare. He was thankful you allowed him to move you like a rag doll, letting him set you against his body where he was comfortable until your arm was crossed over his waist, tucked behind the open zipper of his jacket upon the thin fabric of his t-shirt until you could feel the ripple of his stomach muscles, and your head was leaning on his shoulder. Your right leg crossed your left until you were so curled up against him, he could feel your heartbeat from at least four different pulse points.

A sigh left your lips and you squeezed at his waist, nudging your head along his shoulder, almost purring, and it took away any lingering anxiety he felt. For the first time in years, he felt normal, like touch could be something for comfort instead of pain.

You were asleep within a few minutes, the warmth of your breath on his neck, and he couldn’t help but smile to himself.

He watched Ivanov pace for the rest of the night, listening contently to the soft vibrations of your breaths and tired not to focus on the pleasant twists in his stomach when you pulled him closer to you in your sleep.

***

A few more nights of curling up side by side in the front seat in search of shared warmth and Bucky decided he never wanted to be without your arms wrapped around him again.

Ivanov was taking longer to meet up with his supplier than anticipated so you spent more time holed up in that car together than either of you had planned for. Letting himself give into the need he had been suppressing for so long to be close to someone, to be close to you like this, to be held, was the only thing making the aching chill of the cold worth it. He'd submerge himself into ice water if it meant he could still come back to your arms.

You had stopped complaining about the freezing temperatures and you no longer shivered when you were pressed up against his side. It was nearly a week of sharing the warmth of your bodies as you continued the stakeout before you asked him a question that nearly made his heart stop.

“Do you wanna get a drink?”

Bucky stiffened immediately, though you didn’t seem to notice, still curled up against his side with your cheek pressed to his collarbone. He remembered Sam teasing him about this once; that ‘normal people’ went out on weekends and how asking to get a drink with someone was asking for a date.

Was that what you were doing? Did you want that with him? Why was he starting to sweat when there were icicles forming from the condensation on the car windows?

“Buck? You okay?” you asked cautiously, sitting up and he missed your warmth instantly. “If you’re worried about Ivanov, I’ve got a monitoring system set up so we’ll know if he leaves his apartment. He hasn’t left that living room in days. We should be fine for just one drink, at least. It’ll help warm us up. Please?”

The way you were looking at him with pleading eyes and an eager smile brimming on your lips, Bucky didn’t know how he could possibly deny you. Your smile could make him do just about anything.

“Y-yeah okay."

The spark of joy that lit up your features was enough to push aside any concern he had over the mission and bypass the nervous energy consuming his veins. He stopped thinking about Sam’s stupid comment and tried to ignore the jolt in his heart as you grinned at him.

“Great! There’s a bar across the street,” you pointed out and Bucky chuckled, realizing you had been thinking about this for longer than he thought. “Come on!”

You pushed open the car door with a heavy kick to break through the ice that had formed on the creases of the latch and a brush of freezing air swept into the car. Bucky quickly stumbled out after you, tucking his hands into his pockets and nearly fell a few paces back as you collided against him, wrapping your arms around his waist to keep warm in the few steps it took to cross the street.

A few months ago, that might have thrown him into a state of shock or stolen the breath from his lungs, but now, he only started to laugh. He surprised himself as removed his right hand from his pocket and draped it around your shoulders.

He held open the door for you as you walked into the bar to find dim lighting and the clicking of pool balls as two heavy set men with long, unkempt beards paced around the green felt table. There was no music playing and a total of three people inside the bar, including the bar tender, but it was warm enough for you to shrug off your jacket so Bucky was satisfied.

You hovered over the bar, waiting for the bartender to notice you, though he didn’t look up in your direction until Bucky stood by your side. He made eye contact with Bucky and draped the towel over his shoulder as he started to make his way down the bar. You scoffed, muttering something under your breath about the man’s very clear misogynist attitude that made Bucky chuckle quietly.

Considering you didn’t speak Russian, Bucky quickly ordered your favorite drink and a bourbon for himself. He tried not to notice the way you grinned to yourself as the Russian rolled seamlessly off his tongue. Only, the bartender didn’t respond. He stared blankly back at him and Bucky narrowed his eyes, wondering if maybe he had used the wrong dialect, until he took notice of the series of bottles behind the bar, all filled with a clear liquid.

He nodded in understanding and ordered two vodkas, straight.

“This is what we get for agreeing to a mission in Russia,” you muttered, taking the glass as the bartender attempted to hand it to Bucky. The bartender’s eyes trailed down from your face, lower than any decent man would stare without reservation and Bucky quickly paid for the drinks, not wanting this man to look at you with such hunger any more than he already had.

By the time he opened the tab, you had already retreated back to a booth in the far corner of the bar, hidden in shadows and nursing your drink with a sour face. Bucky smiled, noticing the twists in his stomach that came along whenever he seemed to look at you these days, and grabbed his drink from the bar.

He attempted to sit across the table from you but you grabbed onto the sleeve of his jacket, tugging him until he slid into the bench beside you. He didn’t even stop to notice how easily he had grown used to your touch, that your quick grasp onto his jacket didn’t even take him by surprised.

“You still cold?” he asked carefully, moving to run his hand along your arm in hopes to warm you but you shook your head.

“Just like sitting next to you,” you replied casually and it made Bucky’s heart jump. “Is that okay?”

“Y-yeah, ‘course,” he stuttered nervously. For the first time in years it wasn’t because of the close quarters he sat in with you, but because being around you made his stomach twist and his heart skip beats and placed a smile on his lips that hadn’t curved up for such extended periods of time it was started to ache in his cheeks.

You made him nervous for reasons outside of his trauma. You made him nervous because he wanted you to touch him more, because he wanted to spend all of his time with you, because he started to find himself looking at your lips and wondering what they would feel like against his own.

“So how mad do you think Steve would be if he found out we left our post for a drink?” you smirked as you took a sip from your glass, though you couldn’t hold back the grimace that followed. Still, you took another swig before Bucky could answer. You were just so damn endearing he wondered how it was possible he didn’t let himself be close to you like this before Russia.

“What Steve doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Bucky laughed. “Besides, he’s been trying to get me to go out for months. It’s not my fault I decided to do it while in some nowhere town in Russia while on the clock.”

“There’s that rebellious spirit I’ve heard so much about,” you beamed, nudging him in his side until he broke out into laughter. The two men at the pool table turned and glared at the two of you and Bucky waved them off, which only made you laugh harder.

***

Two hours later as Bucky was on his second drink and you on your third, you started to play absentmindedly with his left arm. Delicate fingers traced over the gold shine of the detailing and the dark grey of the plates. Humming quietly to yourself, Bucky wondered how it was possible to have known someone like you, whose touch brought him something other than fear and pain, who only looked at him with kindness and wonder, who saw his arm as something of beauty rather than an instrument of violence.

“Can’t believe you’re letting me do this,” you whispered softly, under your breath, almost as if you were voicing the thoughts in your head aloud without realizing it. You turned his hand over in yours, tracing at what would be the lifeline in his palm.

Bucky parted his lips to say something, anything, but nothing seemed to come out as you carefully moved your hand up his forearm and over his bicep, just exploring. It was different in his left arm, didn’t feel it the way he might have in his right, but it still sent shivers up his spine that had nothing to do with the cold outside the walls of the bar.

“Is it just the alcohol?” you asked quietly, a sliver of disappointment in your voice as your hand brushed over his neck, thumb tracing along the scruff on his jaw and he sighed into you, leaning against your hand as if searching for more, and he was.

You wore a sad smile that broke Bucky’s heart.

“Would you let me do this if you were sober?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, surprised by your questions and the ache in your voice he wasn’t used to. It didn’t seem to occur to you that the alcohol didn’t affect him like it did before the war, not with the serum, but your concern that maybe that was the only reason he would let you near him like this, even after how close he let you in the car, twisted in his heart.

He wondered then if maybe you longed for him the way he so desperately longed for you, too.

Bucky thought back to all the times you asked him to watch movies with you late at night and how you’d sit by him with a bowl of popcorn between you, how you’d bring him up to the roof to watch the stars and make sure to sit on a separate lawn chair, though you dragged it close enough to be near. You were so observant with him, so in tune to his needs and offering your hand to him in the moments that touch wasn’t just wanted, it was needed.

He remembered suddenly how bright you’d smile whenever he caught your eye across the room, how your cheeks would flush when Sam teased you about the late-night trips to the roof, and how you defended him with every breath you had to a hoard of freshmen agents who gossiped too loudly about his time as the winter soldier as you walked by.

Lost in his own thoughts, your hand started to fall from Bucky’s face in his absence of an answer and you began to turn away sadly. But then, Bucky’s hand jumped up to yours, holding it steady against him. You looked to him, surprised, lips parting and Bucky swore he could hear your heart beating.

“It’s different with you,” Bucky tried to explain, his voice hoarse, “it’s always been different with you. I didn’t realize how much I needed this, needed someone to just... touch me. But it’s not just someone, it’s you. I need it to be you.”

A breath left you, stunned, and your thumb traced in careful strokes over his jawline enough to draw a gasp from him. Eyes flickering down to his lips, Bucky swore his heart might have stopped. He didn’t want to consider if it was too much too soon because nothing ever felt wrong when he was with you. He started to lean in, watched as you closed your eyes, but his gaze flickered to your drink on the table and he pulled back abruptly.

“What is it?” you asked carefully, concerned, but he didn’t reply right away. Your eyes widened in a realization he didn’t catch onto and you quickly pulled your hand from the side of his face. He already missed the feel of your hand. “Oh God, I shouldn’t have pushed you, Buck, I’m so--”

“You’re drinking,” Bucky stated quietly, nodding to your glass but you were rapidly shaking your head.

“It’s water,” you said in a breath of relief and Bucky narrowed his eyes, “the last two have been water. Need at least a relatively clear head for this job, don’t I?”

“Oh.”

So, this was real?

Bucky’s heart was thumping in his chest, so loud, so painful, he was sure it might explode from the cavity and jump right out into your lap. It belonged to you, anyway, he realized.

The surveillance cam sitting on the table was quiet, the blip on the monitor your signal to Ivanov’s safe location in his apartment. Suddenly, Bucky couldn’t focus on the mission or the sound of the pool balls clicking behind him as the men started their fourth game. He didn’t notice the stale smell of musk or the bartender grumbling under his breath from behind the bar. He couldn’t focus on anything but you, anything but your lips and he’d never wanted to touch anyone so badly in his life.

You called his name carefully, hand settling on his cheek again to draw his attention, and it jolted something within him, enough so that his hands snaked up against your neck and gently pulled you to him until the warmth of his breath ghosted against your lips.

He was breathing fast, shallow, but electricity was in his veins for the right reasons and as he gazed upon the soft look in your eye, he let himself press forward. Impossibly gentle and chaste, he parted his lips to yours, encasing your bottom lip between his own and you tasted of wasted months and longing and something stronger than the desire he felt for you, something like love.

One taste wasn’t enough for him and he kissed you again, not giving himself even a moment for air, and the soft whimper from your lips as your hands raked down his back was enough to make him crave more. He needed to hear more of that, needed to feel you everywhere, needed you to touch him where his clothes were obstructing his body.

“Bucky,” you murmured into his mouth, kissing the corner of his lips, his cheekbone, until you pulled back breathless.

He decided he loved the way your lips had swollen, that he wanted to make sure they looked like that all the time because he didn’t want to spend another moment not kissing you. He pushed forward and kissed at your neck as you tried to speak and giggled as your fingers began to comb through his hair, urging him on.

“Bucky,” you called again and he pulled back reluctantly.

The pout on his face made your smile stretch to touch your ears. You nodded to the bartender who was sending the two of you a death glare. Bucky groaned, grabbing your hand and helping you slide out from the booth. He threw your jacket over your shoulders and quickly led you to the door in the back of the bar as fast as his feet could carry him.

“Where are we going?” you laughed, holding onto the com alerting you to Ivanov’s location. Still in his apartment.

“Upstairs,” Bucky replied, opening the door to find a woman standing at a desk behind it. A whole another room you clearly weren’t expecting. 

Bucky mumbled some Russian and handed her some money before she placed a key in his hand. The grin on your face as you realized what he was doing had Bucky all but restraining himself not to pick you up and carry you the rest of the way.

He led you up the stairs, hand grasped tightly in your own until he reached the door he was looking for. Nervously fumbling with the key, he stole a glance over at you to find you biting back a laugh. The second he got the door open, he hulled you inside and caged you against the wall, kicking the door shut behind him.

His lips were on yours again in an instant, his hands running up and down your sides, touching and caressing over parts of you he kept himself from even imagining the feel of. His hands slid over curves and ridges, ripples and dimples, every part of you and it still wasn’t enough.

You were breathless, your own hands raking over his shoulders, in his hair, on his face, down his abs, and he never wanted you to stop. He started to reach for the hem of your shirt when you pulled away sharply.

Bucky froze, suddenly realizing what he was doing. It was like one touch ignited something within him and everything else became a blur. In all your concern for him, he never stopped to consider if it was too much for you. Panic swept through his chest and he backed away.

“Shit, I-I'm sorry. Do you—do you want to stop?” Bucky stuttered out awkwardly, scratching at the back of his head.

“No, God no, Buck,” you replied quickly, crossing the room to stand against him again. His knees caught on the edge of the bed and he fell against the mattress as you stepped between his legs. You pushed the hair from his eyes, smiling down at him. “This is just a lot for you, so soon, and I want to make sure you’re okay, that this is what you want.”

Bucky swallowed, letting his hands brush around your waist, tracing down the curve of your ass and along your thighs. He looked up at you, a kind of relief in him he hadn’t felt in years.

“Don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more,” he confessed quietly, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand.

Months of pent up emotions were spilling out of him at once. All this time of wanting to be close to you and never allowing himself the chance, too afraid of what might happen, of the possibility of your touch being anything other than the magic he imagined it to be.

You thought quietly for a moment before moving to straddle his waist. “You’ll tell me if it gets to be too much.”

It wasn’t a question, but a demand. Bucky nodded eagerly.

He hadn’t been with a woman since before the war and even then, none of them made him feel in his highest peak even an ounce of what he felt simply kissing you. 

As you leaned back to tug all three layers of your shirts and sweaters over your heat, Bucky was met with awe. Goosebumps prickled along your skin even in the heat of the room and Bucky was quick to run his hands along your exposed skin in aid of warmth.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the hill of your breast as you reached behind you to unclasp the remaining fabric covering your chest. Nipples hardening under the cool air and from the anticipation of Bucky’s thumbs carefully brushing against them, he watched as you closed your eyes in a content sigh.

Though as a shiver raked up your spine, Bucky quickly gathered you in his arms and tossed you under the covers. Your laughter echoed through the room and Bucky swore he never heard a more beautiful sound. 

Crawling in behind you and settling down with the warmth of the sheets over his back, he brushed the hair away from your face, taking just a second longer to memorize the flush of your cheeks and the warm smile upon your lips as you stared up at him.

Anticipation itching in his skin combined with the exhilaration of your hands along the bare of his arms, his back, his chest, and the remainder of clothes were shed, tossed aside until the entirety of him laid against you. He closed his eyes, holding onto the moment that you gave him the chance to feel something other than fear or pain, to maybe feel something of pleasure.

He kissed along your neck, not having the proper words to thank you, and parted your legs as he adjusted himself between them. You reached down between you and as your hand wrapped around his length he gasped, shocked by the sensation.

“You okay?” you asked sweetly, kissing his cheek.

He nodded, lips parting and even though your hand hardly even moved, he was sure he was going to come from your touch on him alone.

“More than okay, doll.”

You grinned as he leaned down to kiss you.

It all happened so fast after that and Bucky couldn’t give himself time to savor and process because all he could think about was your hands and your mouth and the clench of your walls as he sank into you. He tucked his face into the crook of your neck as he rolled his hips, biting back moans and gasping with each pulse inside of you.

All the while, you whispered sweet praises in his ear, told him how much you adored him, let your hands roam down his back, gripped at his shoulders, until you started to rub circles at your clit and Bucky swore he saw stars. The clench of you around him was blinding, sending rushes of heat and waves of a kind of pleasure he hadn’t experienced in years.

It only took a few thrusts before you came around him, holding him tight to your chest as he chased his own release. The whimpers of your moans and the achingly sweet cry in your voice were enough for Bucky to reach his edge and he spilled into you, kissing at your neck as he rolled his hips to prolong the release.

When he finally stilled, he let himself rest on your chest, curling his arms around your shoulders and pressing a chaste kiss to your jawline. He sighed contently, heart pounding and mind a little hazy. Your fingers began to slowly comb through his hair, drawing shivers down his spine simply from your touch.

“How do you feel?” you asked breathily, a slight laugh in your voice that made Bucky’s heart swell.

He lifted himself from your chest just enough to press a kiss to your lips before settling back in, smiling as he could hear the sound of your heart beating under his ear.

“Like I’ve been wasting a lot of time not letting you touch me, doll.”

***

No one could have predicted that Ivanov would spend another two weeks holed up in his apartment, relentlessly pacing back and forth and attending to paperwork at his desk for hours on end. Though, despite Fury’s offer to send agents to relieve you and Bucky from your posts, you both hastily declined. You didn’t inform him it was the frequent trips to the motel above the bar that incentivized you to stay.

Bucky didn’t know how he could have possibly gone so long holding back from you. It was like you brought him back to life and now he simply couldn’t stay away from you. Even sitting in that damn car all day and night when Ivanov was too active to let the two of you escape to the motel for an hour, he kept his hand on your thigh, or circling your knee, or sitting draped over your shoulders as you curled up against his side.

There had been a few times when the nights were too long and you released him from the zipper of his pants and worked him over with your hands or your mouth until he came, gripping onto your hair and the grab handle hanging above the driver’s window.

Your touch was unlike anything else.

It sent fire through him and calmed him and made his heart beat out of his chest. He didn’t once consider that your hands could bring him pain or suffering the way he had been conditioned to believe for decades. You were soft and gentle and beyond anything that he deserved but he gave himself over you to dozens of time because he simply couldn’t get enough.

Even to touch you was like heaven. The trust it took and the willingness to allow his hands, hands that had tortured and killed, to touch you and bring you to the edge of something joyous, something pleasurable, was unparalleled.

He treasured the nights where you’d curl against him and his right hand would slip under the band of your pants, running delicately between your thighs and coaxing you until you were moaning such beautiful sounds Bucky was sure he’d never be able to sit in silence again.

Even now as he sat in the driver’s seat of the car, one hand on the binoculars and the other resting on your thigh, Bucky was sure he’d crumble if he ever lost you. You were his anchor. Your hold on him keeping his mind and body firm on the surface before he sank to the depths of the oceans or floated high above the clouds. You were his lifeline.

“Do you think we’ll be here forever?” you huffed with a teasing smile, arms folded over your chest as you tucked your chin further into your scarf. You glanced up at Ivanov who was pacing in front of his window again.

“Don’t think I’d mind if we were.” Bucky smiled, shrugging, and tugged on your thighs to pull you closer to him. “I could spend an eternity here if I get to keep holding you like this, doll.”

“We can still do that on a side of the world where it’s not this freezing, you know,” you laughed, nudging his side as you scooted closer against him.

Bucky swallowed nervously, stiffening though you didn’t seem to notice.

“You-- you want to still do this back home?” He was afraid suddenly, his chest growing cold.

But the soft glow of your smile saved him from falling into the darkest corners of his mind as your hand gently reached up to cup at the side of his face. Your thumb brushed against the hairs on his beard, bringing his lips tenderly to your own. It was chaste and impossibly short, but as you pulled back, the warmth in your eyes was enough to melt the fear in Bucky’s heart.

“I want every part of you, Buck,” you said. “I want you here and I want you at home.”

Bucky bit on his lip, chewing over dried skin, because he knew what he wanted with you. He wanted everything.

“I want to go on dates and hold your hand in public,” you continued dreamily and Bucky’s heart skipped a beat. “I want to curl up on the couch with you and train with you and take you to all my favorite restaurants and walk with you in Central Park. I want it all, Buck. If you want it, too.”

Bucky could hardly believe what he was hearing. He was dreaming, he was sure of it, because he never imagined those words would ever come from your mouth.

The way you were watching him so eagerly awaiting his response made his stomach flutter. He hadn’t felt like that since he was a teenager pining after a pretty girl at school. You gave him back a kind of innocence he’d lost in his decades under Hydra. You made him human again.

“There is nothing I want more,” he sighed, a relief washing over him and he leaned in to kiss the smile tugging so beautifully across your lips when suddenly, the red blinking light of the monitor caught his attention.

Bucky pulled back abruptly, checking the dash to find it was the perimeter light that was engaged. You pointed at a figure coming down the steps of Ivanov’s apartment and the red sedan's lights that flashed as the doors unlocked.

This was what the two of you had been waiting on for weeks now. Timing wasn’t great, but it never really was. Without another word, Bucky nodded, turning on the ignition of the car and manually disengaging the headlights.

He waited a moment after Ivanov pulled out from his parking space before switching the car into drive and pulling out from the alleyway. You kept a careful watch on the monitors on the dash, checking the GPS and the communicating your route back to Fury.

Bucky followed Ivanov for nearly twenty minutes, keeping a steady distance behind him as to not draw attention. Ivanov led him outside of the town lines, down an abandoned road, and onto the off-road, which didn’t support the surveillance vehicle well. On his left he passed a cabin with the lights off.

“Where the hell is he taking us?” you huffed, pulling your gun from the glove compartment as the car ahead rolled to a stop. Bucky pulled the car over to the side of the dirt path, turning off the ignition and you clenched your jaw. “Do you think we’ve been made?”

“Not sure,” Bucky replied, reaching for his own weapons and strapping them to the holsters on his pants and jacket, “guess we’re about to find out.”

Out ahead, Ivanov stepped out from his car, a hand gun visible in his right hand as he slammed the door shut. From your positioning, he shouldn’t be able to see your car in the dark like this, even as he turned to check his surroundings. He looked straight at the car and didn’t seemed to be alarmed in the slightest. He must have looked right past it.  

Then, Ivanov turned to the forest.

“Looks like we’re following him on foot,” Bucky grumbled as Ivanov started to follow a path into the woods.

You groaned a little dramatically and Bucky couldn’t help but smile as he pushed open his door, offering his hand to help you slide out the seat. The cool air must have hit you like a brick wall because your arms quickly moved to wrap around your waist, face pressing into Bucky’s chest as he closed the door behind you.

“Come on, doll,” Bucky chuckled, starting to walk in Ivanov’s direction with you huddled to his chest.

After a few paces, you reluctantly pulled yourself from Bucky’s embrace and positioned your gun out ahead of you, ready to fire if needed. You were on a mission, after all.

Following Ivanov’s shadow in the distance through the twists and turns of the snow-covered forest, even Bucky started to feel the chill of the cold air. Ice crystals started to form on his beard from his exhales and his right hand was starting to feel numb. He was about to suggest going on the offensive to get this over with before the two of you froze to death just as Ivanov suddenly took off running.

“Shit, we’ve been made,” you cursed and suddenly you were sprinting off after him before Bucky could even warn you to wait.

Weaving in and out of the forest, Bucky followed closely on your heels until the sound of running water replaced the crunching of the snow under his boots and you pulled to a sudden stop at the edge of a bridge after Ivanov’s shadow had long disappeared from view.

You groaned, resting your arms on the crown of your head to find your breath. You winced with every inhale as the cold air burned in your lungs. “Where the hell did he go?!”

Bucky shook his head, just as lost. He narrowed his eyes, trying to get a better view beyond the bridge, but came up empty.

Beside him, you froze suddenly; stiff and rigid and before Bucky could turn and ask what was wrong, a dark voice in a thick accent behind him called out over the rush of river’s current ahead.

“Looking for me, princess?”

Bucky spun around to find Ivanov standing just behind you with the barrel of his gun pressed into the nape of your neck, his hand squeezing your shoulder to keep you still. He grinned at Bucky, yellowed teeth and a gold canine behind a long wiry beard.

You winced as he dug the barrel of the gun harder against your neck and your hands shot up to your sides defensively. He pried the gun from your right hand and tossed it over the bridge and into the river. The same went for the smaller one strapped to your thigh, his hands ghosting over your hip a few seconds too long.

Bucky’s hands were shaking. He was fuming.

“You, stay here,” Ivanov demanded, nodding to Bucky as he pushed you forward.

“Let her go!” Bucky called out, keeping his aim trained on Ivanov but you were obstructing his scope. It was too risky to take a shot. He was helpless as Ivanov lead you out to the center of the bridge.

“Can’t do that!” Ivanov shouted, glancing down at the water as he held you firm in his grip. “Not when the two of you have been watching me for weeks! My supplier won’t appreciate that I’ve had a tail and I think it’s about time I cut it off.”

Bucky readjusted his positioning, his grip on the handle of the gun aching in his right hand. He tried to take a step closer and Ivanov fired a warning shot into the air, causing you to flinch and Bucky stilled immediately.

“You don’t gotta hurt her, Ivanov,” Bucky urged, trying to keep his voice calm despite the rage of panic in his veins, “you can take me. You know who I am, don’t you? Let her go and you can have me. Imagine how much money you could get for the winter soldier.”

Your eyes widened, about to protest, when Ivanov began to laugh; a sound so harsh and cruel it struck an unpleasant nerve in Bucky’s chest.

“You think I’m foolish enough to go near Hydra?” he shouted, shaking his head, almost amused.

“If you want to take this out on someone, use me!” Bucky called out, voice shaking though it wasn’t from the cold. He met your eyes and they were wide and filled with tears, though you struggled to form words. “Let her go. Just take me.”

“Oh, I’ll kill you, too,” Ivanov smirked, “but I’m starting with the girl.”

Bucky only saw red. A snarl ripped through him before he could quite stop it and he fired a single bullet at the only ounce of a clean shot he could find. It clipped at the edge of Ivanov’s shoulder and he let out a yelp, allowing you to stumble away from him in the shock of it.

Bucky sprinted towards you, his feet carrying him as fast as they possibly could, but it wouldn’t be enough. You were unsteady on your feet from the sudden echo of the gunfire and the bullet that whizzed by your arm and plunged into Ivanov.

Ivanov, with one hand gripping onto a bloody shoulder, took your moment of surprise to his advantage and shoved you hard towards the railing. No time to react, you tried to fight back but he knocked you over the head with his gun, dizzying you as your eyes drifted closed. He shoved you, again, enough for your upper body to sway over the railing.

“No!” Bucky howled, desperate to reach you in time but you were already slipping over the edge. He screamed out, firing four shouts straight into Ivanov’s chest and chucked his gun aside as the arms dealer collapsed to the ground, bloody.

He lunged to grab you as you fell backwards, your hand slipping through his for an impossible second and Bucky’s stomach plummeted along with you as you fell into the freezing water.

No time to think, reacting purely on adrenaline, Bucky climbed up onto the railing and dove in after you.

If he had been in any other state of mind, the jolt of the ice-cold water might have thrown him into a panic attack or a violent flashback or rendered him into a version of himself he wouldn’t recognize. It might have ripped him from his body and replaced him with the soldier because it was under ice as cold as this that Hydra kept him alive all those years.

As he used every ounce of his strength to push through the water, fighting against the burning cold encasing around him and numbing his body, he kept his focus on you. The water was too dark but he reached and searched and couldn’t find you anywhere. His lungs were on fire and he breached the surface for a gasp of air before he dove back down.

It was taking too long, you’d been under too long, and Bucky was panicking in a way he never had before. The lump in the back of his throat might have choked him if it wasn’t for the dark figure he spotted floating a few feet to his right. Swimming as fast as he could and grabbing on before the current could pull you away, Bucky felt the heavy weight of your jacket and he lost all of the air in his lungs as he cried out in relief.

Dragging you up the surface, Bucky hulled you onto the frozen beach as fast as he could. Your hair stuck to the sides of your face, skin losing its color and ice to the touch. Through shaking hands, Bucky ripped down the zipper of your jacket until he could get his hands as close to your sternum as he could. Terrified of his own strength but too desperate not to lose you, he started compressions.

Every thirty seconds, he’d carefully bend down and breath into your lungs, lips pressing to yours but they felt nothing like they should, not like the lips he’d come to memorize. They were too cold, frozen, and Bucky had to stifle a cry every time he touched them.

“Come on!” Bucky begged, his voice shaking as he forced your heart to beat for you. “Come back! Don’t do this to me! Don’t-- Don’t do this--”

It took nearly four minutes before you started choking on the water in your lungs. Bucky quickly rushed to help sit you up and turn to the side, rubbing circles on your back to help you cough the water away. His hands were shaking violently as he turned you to face him. The coughing ceased but you were still unconscious, though breathing. Your lips were turning blue.

Gathering you up in his arms, Bucky quickly scrambled back up to the path. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to take you to escape this cold, but he sprinted back to the car anyway. He could blast the hot air and turn the car into a sauna if he had to. It had a tracking unit on it so Fury could send for a jet as soon as he called.

Lungs aching from the cold and your unconscious body limp in his arms, Bucky could barely keep his thoughts straight. He passed through the edge of the forest and finally spotted the car in the distance, only a fire was burning from the engine.

“Fuck,” he gaped, realizing one of Ivanov’s men must have covered his tracks.

Standing at the edge of the forest, shivering, and holding you as tight to his chest as he could manage, Bucky nearly let out a scream in frustration before he remembered the cabin he had spotted just half a mile back. It was his last hope. He needed to get you out of the cold before it consumed you whole.

His legs were aching by the time he reached the front door but he managed to kick it in anyway, not bothering to knock or check if anyone was home. The driveway was absent of cars and there wasn’t a single light illuminated in the windows, anyway. Kicking the door shut behind him, Bucky quickly brought you over to the living room and laid you on the couch.

Scrambling around him for blankets, he realized there was a fireplace in the center of the room; his first bit of good luck in nearly a century. It took only a few moments before he got a spark to ignite on the logs and Bucky’s face broke out into a smile that cracked his lips.

As the fire started to grow and illuminate the room in warm shades of golds and reds, he set a blanket on the ground by the fireplace, patting it down a few times and trying to layer it enough to find some cushioning. Once satisfied, he paused, looking up to you to find your arm hanging limply over the edge of the couch and a ghostly look about you that set a dread back in his stomach.

He rushed to you, gathering you in his arms and brought you down by the fire. Your skin was ice cold and Bucky nearly hissed at the feeling of it as he helped ease you along the blankets. The heat of the flames wasn’t enough though, not with the damp layers of clothing sticking to your skin and preventing the fire from warming your body.

“Okay, okay, I can do this. I’ve got you, doll,” Bucky started mumbling to himself, nodding, knowing what he had to do.

There was no time to preserve modesty and he’d seen you naked enough times on this trip to hope that you’d forgive him for removing your clothing when this was all over, when you survived this and he could hear the sweet tone of your voice again, even if you were angry with him.

He pulled the knife from his boot and cut straight through your clothes, terrified to wait even a second longer. He peeled the sopping wet material from your skin only to find it covered in goosebumps and several shades too close to transparency. You weren’t shaking, weren’t shivering, and it wasn’t a good sign. It meant your body was too far gone to even attempt to warm itself with muscle spasms.

Once the rest of your clothing was tossed away, he threw a separate blanket on top of you while he started to strip his own clothes. Water dripped onto the carpet below as he tossed his shirt aside. Shivers swept up his spine as he started to remove his pants, then his boxers, until he was bare. He quickly rung out his hair a few paces away from you to keep the excess water away and crawled in under the blanket beside you.

Body heat. Skin to skin. It was the quickest way to share body heat and if you didn’t warm up soon, your internal organs would start failing, your heart would give out again, and Bucky might lose you for good. It wasn’t an option. He couldn’t even begin to stand the idea of it.

So, he pulled you onto his chest, leaning you heavily on his right side and keeping the cold of his left arm as far from you as he could manage. He winced as he pressed your body tight to his, like holding a block of ice straight to the bare of his skin.

“Okay, love, come on now,” he whispered, squeezing your hair out onto a cloth and throwing it over with the rest of his clothes once it wasn’t sopping wet with ice water from the river. He wrapped his right arm around you, intertwining his legs in yours and doing everything he could to warm you.

“It’s time to wake up, sweetheart,” he begged, feeling the lump burning in the back of his throat again. 

He cupped at the side of your face but your skin was still frozen, the color drained from the flush in your cheeks he adored so much. Your breaths were shallow and he tried to focus on the beat of your heart but it was faint and getting weaker.

“Don’t leave me,” Bucky gasped, kissing at your forehead and holding you so tight against him he thought he might hurt you. Tears slipped down his cheeks before he even realized he was crying.

“Please, Y/n. You can’t leave me now. Not after all this. Please, love, come back to me. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.”

***

An hour later as your skin returned to its natural hue and the ice left your veins, you still hadn’t woken up. Bucky kept you firm on his chest, rocking you slightly, and finally allowing his left hand to hold you from over the blanket as it had absorbed the heat of the fire the same way it had taken on the chill of the ice.

“I’m so sorry,” he cried in a hushed whispered, voice broken and aching because he’d been saying for twenty minutes straight, “I’m so sorry, love. I’m sorry. I’m--”

A soft rustle in his arms and Bucky’s heart nearly stopped. You moaned softly, curling up against him like you were readjusting your position in your sleep and wrapped your arm over his waist; slight movement of your arms, the curl of your legs pushing between his is search of his warmth.

“Y/n?”

You swallowed, scrunching your nose as your eyes fluttered open as if from a long nap. Bucky swore he’d never seen a more beautiful shade in his life as you took in your surroundings through narrowed eyes, confused. You licked at your dried lips and Bucky could see a thousand questions formulating in your mind but a shiver swept up your spine and caused you to bite your tongue.

“Cold,” you muttered, gripping onto Bucky tighter and he nearly cried in relief.

“I know, doll, I’ve got you,” he replied, biting on his lip to suppress the sob etching its way to the surface. You must have noticed the strain in his voice because you lifted your head from his chest to gaze down at him, tilting your head slightly at what you saw.

"Have you been crying?” you asked carefully, reaching up to brush the tracks of tears from his cheeks. He clenched his jaw, embarrassed and ashamed, until you pressed a kiss to his cheek and your lips felt like they should again, soft and pillowy and warm. “Bucky, what happened? What’s wrong?”

“How much do you remember?” he gritted out, unable to stop a tear as it spilled from the corner of his eye, though you wiped it away before it could get very far.

“Ivanov. The bridge. Falling.” You sighed, eyes closing and realizing what happened before Bucky could explain. “You jumped in after me, didn’t you?”

He nodded.

“You saved my life.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. “You could have died, Bucky.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, trying to hold back the lump in his throat and the flood of emotion surging through him but as you gently cupped the side of his face, urging him to meet your eye and he found nothing but warm and love behind them, he broke.

“I- I couldn’t let you drown,” he stammered out, tears welling in his eyes again, “and—and that water was so cold, Y/n, even when I revived you, you-- you wouldn’t wake up. I thought—I thought you were— You almost—”

“I’m here,” you whispered soothingly, cutting him off before he could spiral. You smiled at him, a flush of warmth in your cheeks and color renewed to your lips. You leaned in and kissed him softly, drawing a breath from him and easing the racing beat in his heart.

As you pulled away, you kissed his nose, his cheekbones, his jawline, until you settled back in against his chest. “I’m right here, Buck. I’m not going anywhere.”

He nodded, trying to convince himself and he held you tight against him.

“We should try to get word to Fury that we’ve been compromised,” Bucky said reluctantly after some time. You hummed in agreement, though you made no effort to move away from him.

“Just stay here a little while longer,” you asked in a voice so sweet Bucky didn’t even have to think twice about it. “It’s the middle of the night back home. Fury can wait until morning. Let me lay with you.”

Bucky smiled softly, tugging you close to him and kissing the crown of your head.

Touch became a kind of anchor he never even considered before you. There would have been a time a few months back where the idea of lying this close to someone, so exposed and vulnerable, would have terrified him. But now, as he held you in his embrace, Bucky relished in a security and peace he hadn’t known in decades.

Your arms wove around his waist, clinging onto him as the entirety of your body pulled flesh against him. You tucked your nose into the crook of his neck and he could feel the smile on your lips, the warmth of your breath on his skin, the gentle vibration of your hums.

The wood crackled in the fireplace beside him, soft hues of the light illuminating the room and casting a glow along the bare of your back as the blanket hung down by your waist, the heat of his body and the fire enough to sustain you, and Bucky was sure he’d never seen a more beautiful sight in his life.

“Sleep, Buck,” you urged in a tired yawn before you pressed a kiss to his neck and snuggled in tighter.

Bucky nodded, feeling the exhaustion starting to pull him under and he let his eyes flutter closed. Lost in nothing but the heat of the flames and the feel of your body against him, encasing him, holding him, he drifted off to sleep.

Warm and soft, safe.

Cold, cold water surrounds me now And all I've got is your hand Lord, can you hear me now? Or am I lost? -- Damien Rice

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

[etherealwaifgoddess]

Tea For Two

Characters: dad!Bucky x reader

Summary: You come home from grocery shopping to find Bucky having a tea party with your daughter.

Content Warning: tooth rotting fluff, a smidge of first base at the very end.

Word Count: 1.4k

Author’s Note: Hi lovelies. I know I have my Loki fic going on right now but I couldn’t wait to share this with ya’ll. This little fic popped into my head earlier today and I just couldn’t shake it loose. And honestly, we all need a little extra sweet fluff in our lives right now. XOXO - Ash

Tea For Two

The house is quiet as you lug your groceries in from the car. It’s suspicious at first, but short lived. Peals of laughter echo down the backstairs and into the kitchen. 

“No, daddy! Bubby-bear can’t drink tea!” you hear your four year old daughter shrieking with laughter. 

“What?!” your husband gasps dramatically, “Are you sure? ‘Cause I think he would love his own cup.” 

“No, daddy. It’s tea for TWO.” 

“Okay, princess. Tea for two.” 

You put the groceries away quickly, wanting to get a glimpse of the tea party before it’s over. Your daughter usually cons her daddy into wearing his own tiara and sometimes even some glitter. It’s worth shoving everything in the fridge to deal with later to see what was once the world's deadliest assassin sporting purple glitter and an Elsa crown. Even after four and a half years of parenthood, it still melts your heart to see Bucky be so soft with your daughter. 

Bucky had been terrified for most of your pregnancy. Scared he would lose you or the baby. Scared one of his old enemies would resurface and come after you. Scared he wouldn’t be a good father. It was a very long nine months but you had managed with lots of patience, love, and therapy. Bucky had taken to parenthood like a fish to water. He loved Rebecca Sara Barnes more than anything else in the world from the moment she took her first breath. It was almost annoying some days how all the little things that should have been annoying he seemed to love. He didn’t get upset when she woke up in the middle of the night, or when she got super whiny when she was tired. Those were the times Bucky shined. He was endlessly patient and loving, swooping in to fix whatever was wrong. You didn’t think you could love him more when you had married him, but after Becca, you learned your love for him was infinite. 

You slip upstairs quietly, padding down the carpeted hall without a sound. Well, at least none that your daughter would hear. There was no way to out-stealth a former assassin. You peek around the door frame to see your daughter’s back, your husband facing you from across the Disney Princess table. He dwarfs the pink chair he’s sitting on but he’s perched on it all the same. As expected, Becca had conned him into wearing a crown and there’s a smear of glitter on each of his cheeks. He hates getting the glitter out of his beard and long hair, but he loves his little girl more. A small shiny blue cape is hanging from his neck, barely draping down past his broad shoulders. A matching pink cape hangs from your daughter’s shoulders, fitting her like it should. Her little Anna crown is lopsided and she pushes it back with a huff of exasperation. It’s hard not to laugh, that expression is one she definitely gets from you. 

Bucky looks up at you, giving you a lopsided smile and a shrug. He should have started her bedtime routine fifteen minutes ago and he knows it. You can’t be upset though. It’s a weekend and they both live for these little quiet moments together. You shoot him a smile and lean back against the door frame to watch their party. It’s quite a spread tonight. Bucky had set up her Frozen tea set and they’re drinking strawberry tea and have plates of goldfish and fruit gummies on the table too. Becca’s stuffed bunny is one chair, and her favorite bear is in the other, both with their own empty cups in front of them. The bear was a gift from Steve when you’d announced your pregnancy. It was weird how the world had monetized the likenesses of the Avengers. Some things the team agreed they wished they’d never seen, but when Steve found a Bucky Barnes teddy bear, complete with a silver arm, he couldn’t resist. It had ended up being Becca’s favorite toy and she never slept without it. As she learned to speak, the Bucky-bear became her Bubby-bear and the name had stuck. 

Your daughter is chattering happily to her bear and bunny, making sure they’re having a nice time at her party. You know what’s coming next when she asks Mr. Flopsy if he would like to listen to some music. It’s not a tea party if she doesn’t get Bucky to sing. You had stopped dead in your tracks the first time you’d heard Bucky sing. It was shortly after Becca was born and he was lulling her to sleep, crooning some old song from his childhood. His voice was dark and smooth like good whiskey, and you’d thanked god for bringing this amazing man into your life. 

“Daddy, can you sing us the song?” Becca asks, looking sweet as can be.

Bucky smiles at her indulgently, but mischief sparks in his grey-blue eyes, “What song, princess?” 

“Daddy!” she scolds him, her chocolate brown curls flying as she shakes her head, “The tea party song!” 

“Oh!” Bucky acts surprised, “Of course I can sing the tea party song.” he takes a sip of his tea and then the old song spills from his lips, “Tea for two, and two for tea. Me for you, and you for me…” 

You head down the hall, giving them their peace. The parties normally wrap up soon after she gets Bucky to sing. You’re still tired from chasing her around all day, Friday is playgroup meetup after preschool, and then running errands once Bucky got home from work. You never expected Bucky to be able to work a nine to five job, not even when you’d found out you were pregnant. It was a bombshell on everyone when Bucky had handed in a formal resignation letter, apologizing to the team but making it crystal clear where his priorities lied. They had compromised with him working normal business hours, helping to chase leads and decrypt files from the office instead of the field. It had worked out for everyone and while you sometimes wondered if Bucky missed being in the field with the team, he insisted he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

An hour later you were relaxing in bed with your newest Nora Roberts book when Bucky appeared in your doorway. “Hey mama.” he called to you.

“Hey you.” you set your book down on the nightstand when you see he’s carrying two cups. They’re the oversized china teacups you had bought a few years ago at an estate sale. You love them despite how completely over the top they are.

“You up to an adult tea party?” he motions with the cups in his hands.

“What kind of tea do we have?” 

Bucky hands you a cup, “I managed to snag a bottle of the good champagne they had for that diplomats dinner going on tonight.” 

“Champagne in tea cups?” you giggle, sipping the bubbly golden drink. It was the good kind; slightly sweet with sharp bubbles bursting on your tongue. 

“Gotta take care of both my girls, don’t I?” Bucky presses a kiss to your forehead before going around to his side of the bed. 

“You do.” you agree, knowing full well Bucky is the best partner anyone could ever ask for. “But the real question is, will you sing the tea party song?” You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, feeling playful and wanting to be a little needy like you know Bucky loves.

“Oh darlin’,” Bucky sets his cup down and slides over so he can lean over you, “All you had to do was ask.” he kisses you firmly for a moment before his lips slide to the edge of your jaw by your ear, “Tea for two” he sings in a low whisper, “Two for tea.” he trails kisses in between notes along your jaw and down the column of your neck “Me for you.” Bucky grinds gently against you as his kisses trail further down your chest, “And you for me.” Bucky stops singing as he buries his face between your breasts. You never do get to hear him sing the whole song, but in that moment you can’t seem to mind at all. 

[transientwordsmith]

Stuck in My Mind | Part 1

Hello all! So I know that I’m in the middle of a series right now and also that I don’t get much support on my tumblr but that’s okay! I’m going to keep going anyway! This one is called Stuck in My Mind (to be explained in the summary). I am going to post in in a few parts but it’s divided differently on ao3 if you decide to read it there. I will also be uploading all of the parts within 15 minutes of each other so you will not have to wait! Summary: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, and Peter Parker (aka Captain America, Iron Man, and Spiderman) get hit with a spell that causes them to relive memories of good times with friends and potential romantic partners. | Word Count: ~1500 | Characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Peter Parker, May Parker, James “Bucky” Barnes, James “Rhodey” Rhodes, Original Characters | Link to ao3!

“I need backup over by the 7-11.” Peter heard Tony’s voice come through the coms. Peter started making his way over to him.

“On it,” Peter and Steve said in unison. They made eye contact as they both arrived at the same time.

“Watch yourself, Spiderman,” Steve warned Peter as they rounded the corner.

“Right back at you,” Peter replied.

Peter only caught a glimpse of Tony before he was knocked off his feet by some kind of explosion.

He blacked out.

When Peter woke up, he was alone. He was wearing different clothes and in an unfamiliar place. Peter was sitting on the edge of a field; and was wearing a light blue tshirt and jeans instead of his Suit.

Wait a second. No he wasn’t. He did recognize this place. This field was near Albany, where Ben’s parents lived. Peter looked to his left and saw a small playground a little ways away. There were some children playing there with their adults watching them. Peter made his way over.

As he approached the park, he noticed a little girl with black hair and a pink shirt. She looked sort of familiar…

“Did you find a good stick?” she asked Peter.

“What?” Peter was confused.

“A stick. For mixing our potion?” The girl said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Peter realized he knew her name; a fluke, really. Her name was Chloe. Peter had only met her twice, and both times were at this exact park. He remembered this day now.

“A stick…” Peter looked down at his hands and there he saw a rather large twig in his right hand. “Here’s one.” He offered the stick to Chloe.

“Perfect,” Chloe said. She took the stick from Peter and led him over to a small hole in the ground filled with water, leaves, and rocks. She shoved the twig in and began to mix the sludge around.

“Peter!” Peter heard someone yell from behind him. He turned to see Aunt May standing at the edge of the park. She looked a lot younger than he remembered. “Peter, it’s time to go, sweetheart.”

Peter sighed. “But I don’t wanna go!” he called back.

“Don’t make me come over there!” May told him. Peter put his hands up in surrender. He turned back to Chloe.

“I have to go,” he explained. “I’ll see you next time.” Peter realized he had said that without thinking--it’s what he had said when this event had really happened. He hadn’t had any idea that there would be no next time. The next time Peter came up to Albany, Chloe’s family had moved away.

Peter gave Chloe a quick hug anyway (sort of awkward from his perspective as he was very tall now and she was not) and ran to join Aunt May at the curb. They started walking back to the car which was a little ways down the road. There was a line of bricks laid on the ground which Peter decided to walk on (while holding May’s hand, of course).

“Hey, Peter, what do you say we pick Ben up from Gramma and Grampa’s house and then we go out for dinner?” May suggested. Peter was more focused on his footing than what May had said, but he vaguely registered it.

“That sounds like a great idea,” he said and jumped off the last brick. But when he looked up again, May was gone. He was not in the field any longer. He was somewhere new. Somewhere he didn’t recognize at all, no matter how hard he tried.

---

“I need backup over by the 7-11.” Tony’s voice came through the coms. Steve finished tying up one of the little thugs he was fighting and tried to figure out where the 7-11 was.

“On it,” Steve and Peter said in unison. Steve saw Peter swinging on lamposts and decided to follow him. They made eye contact as they both arrived at the same time.

“Watch yourself, Spiderman,” Steve warned Peter as they rounded the corner.

“Right back at you,” Peter replied.

Steve saw Tony backed up against a wall for just a moment before he was blasted backward by an explosion. He hit something hard.

He blacked out.

Steve awoke to find himself sleeping on a bench. He sat up and looked down at himself. He was no longer wearing his Suit, but instead a light green button down shirt and gray slacks. His top 2 buttons were open and his sleeves were rolled up--for a good reason. It was too damn hot for anyone to be able to function.

Steve surveyed his surroundings. They looked familiar. He just couldn’t put his finger on it…

“Steve!” Steve looked toward the sound of the noise. There he saw Bucky (looking considerably younger than he remembered) wearing a similar outfit to his, holding two popsicles. He was walking away from an ice cream truck.

“Steve,” Bucky said again once he got closer. “Here, I got you a cherry flavored one.” He handed Steve a red popsicle.

“Thanks…” Steve said hesitantly. Then it dawned on him where he was: a block away from his old apartment. He remembered this day. It was two weeks before Bucky signed up to fight in the war.

“Scoot over,” Bucky all but pushed Steve over on the bench.

“Okay, Okay!” Steve scooted over to the edge of the bench.

The two of them sat there, enjoying their popsicles for a little while, the sugary water dripping down their hands and staining their lips. When they were both done, Bucky took his and Steve’s popsicle sticks and pocketed them.

“What are you going to do with those?” Steve asked.

“I’m gonna add them to my popsicle stick model of the White House,” Bucky explained. Steve could see it in his mind’s eye: a small model of the White House in Washington D.C. made of popsicle sticks, painted white with dried paste sticking out between the sticks.

The two of them stood and began making their way back to their apartment. They passed by an empty lot where some children were playing, a bird’s nest on some low hanging branches, and a brick wall. Steve ran his hand along the brick wall. He watched as his hand caressed the rough clay and mortar.

When there was no more wall to touch, Steve looked back at Bucky, but he was gone. Steve behind him, expecting to see Bucky a bit farther down the road, but he was not there either. In fact, nothing that had been there a moment ago was there anymore. Not even the brick wall.

---

Left, right, left, right, left--Tony blocked attack after attack from this space-wizard dude. They both kept moving backward, and Tony knew that eventually he would be cornered with nowhere left to go.

“I need backup over by the 7-11” he called into the coms. Right, right, down.

“On it,” he heard Peter and Steve say together. Down, up, left.

He kept taking small steps backward, trying to give himself more time before he was completely cornered, but it didn’t work. He felt his back hit the wall.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Steve and Peter turn the corner. At the same time, he watched as the space-wizard dude created a glowing orange ball and threw it at the ground. It exploded and Tony’s head snapped back against the wall.

He blacked out.

When he came to, he was outside. And he was wet. What? Tony looked down at himself. In place of his Suit was a pair of blue and green boardshorts and a grey tank top. He looked around at his surroundings and found that he was at a pool. Whose pool? His father’s pool at his childhood home.

“Wow, a little bit of water and the great Tony Stark is speechless!” came a voice from the pool. Tony looked and there was Rhodey--with hair?--standing in the pool, arms akimbo.

Tony suddenly remembered this day. It was an unusually warm day in April, so Rhodey and Tony had decided to swim for a bit, seeing as they had the week off and they had nothing better to do.

“You wish,” Tony echoed himself from his memory and jumped in the pool, effectively spraying Rhodey and everything in a 10 foot radius of the pool.

The two young men (they had been young at the time) splashed around for about a half hour longer, having the time of their lives. When they were all tuckered out, they laid on the side of the pool, heads in the grass, feet in the water. They soaked up the sun, hoping they wouldn’t burn in this extreme heat.

“D’you want some ice cream?” Tony asked.

“Is the sun made of hydrogen and helium?” Rhodey responded. Tony shoved him.

“No need to be rude. I’ll be right back.”

Tony stood and turned back toward the house. He followed the brick path from the pool area to the back door. Tony crossed the threshold and glanced back at Rhodey only to find that he wasn’t there anymore. Neither was the pool. He was standing in the doorway, but now he wasn’t sure which out of the millions of doorways in the world it was. He had no idea where he was.

Part 2 | 3 | 4

[levi-inthesun]

You and Me, Together - Chapter 3

Background: You and your brother Peter were adopted by Tony and Pepper Potts-Stark when you were both teenagers. You’ve been dating Quentin Beck since your sophomore year of college and things (seem) to be looking up… until they aren’t.

Pairing: Quentin Beck x Parker!Reader eventual!someone x Parker!Reader

Social Media AU/mix, College AU, Friends to Lovers

Title/plot inspo: You & Me Together by the 1975

General Warnings: Swearing, angst, cheating

“Fuck,” you breathed as you forced your eyes open and stretched. Something didn’t seem right. You looked around the room and realized it wasn’t your room and panic began to build inside you. You looked down to see you were dressed in a familiar t-shirt that was too big for you and a pair of similarly too big sweat pants. You glanced around the room again and recognized the posters on the wall and the large bookcase filled to the bring. “Bucky?” You called out, voice raspy.

A voice came from the floor to your left, “Keep your voice fucking down,” he whined. 

“Oh thank god!” you sighed in relief as you flopped off the bed and onto one of your closest friends. “I was terrified I went home with some random dude, because.... you know.”

Bucky let out an annoyed huff as your body weight landed on him but was quick to wrap his arms around you reassuringly. “Trust me, even drunk you isn’t capable of even minutely breaking trust, let alone cheating.”

You nodded as tears of relief prickled at your eyes. “Okay, good. Thank you.” You rolled to the side so you were facing your friend. “So are you going to fill me in on what happened last night?” 

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah. But let's not waste a perfectly comfy bed by staying on the floor?”

Once you two were settled and had drunk some water, Bucky began to fill you in.

After you and Carol had had your fill of Joe’s delicious, orgasmic pizza, you both skipped over to the bar where most of your friends were waiting. You had spotted Steve and Sam first, flirting with each other at the bar while they ordered drinks, everyone else was at your normal booth.

Carol decided she’d grab drinks for the two of you since you had insisted on paying for pizza and you continued on to the booth. 

“Hey guys,” you greeted and Bucky scooted towards the wall so you could sit.

“Y/N!” Pietro yelled a bit too loudly, “You are here!” Pietro then basically climbed over the table to leave a wet kiss on your forehead. “I was getting bored without you!” he pouted. Wanda, Bucky, and Nat all rolled their eyes.

“Whatever,” you retorted, “You are just going to go home with that hot redhead sitting by the bar anyways in about an hour, I think you’d have lived.” 

Pietro eyed the bar, catching a glimpse of the redhead you had mentioned.

“Fuck, why do you have to know me so well?” he asked and you just shrugged in response. 

Then Carol, Steve, and Sam showed up with drinks and french fries, Carol sitting next to you, sliding your rum and coke over.

Conversation flowed throughout the evening and once you were another drink or so in, you turned to Bucky with an eyebrow raised.

“No,” he said, knowing exactly what you were about to propose. “No way, Y/N.”

“Whatever, Bucky,” you scoffed, “You’re just afraid to lose to me again.”

“Uh, pretty sure your memory is mistaken,” Nat piped up. “You have never won a drinking contest... like ever.”

“Uh, please keep the facts to yourself, Natalia, I almost had him,” you said, voice hushed.

Bucky just laughed, full and hearty. The kind of laugh that only came out after he’d had a few drinks and could relax. “Not doing it,” he reiterated.

“How about this,” you countered. “Whoever wins gets to have the sleepover at their place and the loser has to buy the winner coffee for a week.”

Bucky eyed you suspiciously, “I know you think you have something up your sleeve because you LOVE having sleepovers at your place and not mine. But I am not going to do this because I would feel like I am taking advantage of you because of the fact that you are a  lightweight.” 

“Does that mean you concede?” You asked with an eyebrow raised. “You know the rules, either participate or concede.”

“Fuck.” Bucky sighed.

That is how he found a line of shots in front of him, you across the table with the same, despite the fact that literally, everyone tried to talk you out of this.

And then, just as everyone (except you) anticipated, Bucky won (yet again) and you got pouty, taking your phone out to text your boyfriend.

Quentin looked up from his phone sighing before he noticed he had missed a voicemail from last night. He moved out of the walkway and sat down on a bench, having just gotten out of class and he hit play.

“Quennnnnnntiiiiiiiiin,” your voice sang. “I am soooo sad we c-couldn’t get pizza together, but I went w-with Carol and then the bar with everyone and I wish you would hang out with all of us again BUT ANYWAYS I lost the drinking c-contest and am gonna get dropped off and Bucket’s house CAUSE WE ARE HAVING A SLEEEEEPOOOOOOVEEERRRRRRR.” In the background, he could hear Bucky laughing and calling to you. “Anyways I looooooooove youuuuuuuu!” and then the voicemail ended.

Frustration began to build inside Quentin as his fists clenched at his side. All the looks you and inside jokes you and Bucky shared flashed behind his eyes and soon he found himself losing control and in a jealous rage. He stood up quickly and made his way to his motorbike, throwing on his helmet before zooming off of campus and to Bucky’s apartment. 

As he weaved through minimal afternoon traffic and before he knew it he was at Bucky’s door.

You and Bucky were sitting on the floor in the living room eating pancakes when someone began pounding on the door. Bucky quickly got up and opened it. 

“Is my girlfriend here?” he demanded.

Bucky looked at him, a puzzled expression on his features, “Yeah, man, she’s in the living room,” he said as he opened the door wider and moved out of the way for Quentin to enter.

“Quentin!” You greeted him, mid-bite of Bucky’s famous, hangover-curing, pancakes.”What are you doing here?” You set your plate down and stood up to go hug your boyfriend.

“Did you sleep with him?” Quentin asked voice low and dangerous.

You stared at him as if hed struck you in response for a moment. “Quentin, do you fucking realize who you’re talking to?”

Something in the back of his mind itched and he struggled through memories to remember why you liked like he had just slapped you across the face. He watched as you scrubbed your hands over your eyes and wrapped your arms around your middle.

Fuck.

“Fuck,” Quentin breathed as he took a tentative step forward, testing the waters before he closed the distance and wrapped his arms around you. “I am so sorry baby,” he whispered into your hair. “I was being dumb and jealous and I can’t believe I had forgotten.” 

You and Quentin had met in the dorms freshman year. You were dating your high school boyfriend, Brock and you were excited about life and still a bit naive. Brock was in one of the fraternities, but you could never remember which one. Your friendship with Quentin began to grow and you knew you could count on him and he could count on you. You shared late-night study sessions with Wanda and her twin brother Pietro, game nights with this new group of friends that was quickly forming, adding in some of your friends you’d had since childhood, including Bucky, Steve, Carol, and Natalia. Brock would make appearances whenever he didn’t have commitments to the frat and would spend the night at your dorm as often as he could. 

Brock had been your first kiss, your first love, your first everything, and you could imagine him being a part of the rest of your life. 

Except one day he stopped picking up the phone and he stopped coming over. He offered no explanation and figured you wouldn’t get one until one day, you saw him making out with one of the girls from the sorority his frat did events with, you think her name is Sharon.

You walked over to them calmly, “Brock,” you called, voice clipped and authoritative, much to your surprise. Brock turned to you, one hand holding her face, the other on her ass. 

“What,” he asked, rolling his eyes when he saw you.

“I’m guessing this is why you dropped out of my life?” You spat, desperately trying to hold yourself together.  

“Yep.” “FUCK JUST WHY?” You yelled, drawing more attention than you would have liked. 

“Because I have been bored with you since senior year of high school, Y/N. The only reason I stuck around after that was because you finally let me fuck you. I’ve been seeing Sharon since freshman orientation,” he said with an eye roll, and Sharon looked at you like you were gum stuck to her shoe. 

You felt the tears finally fall and you began to run away as fast as you could. You stopped when your lungs began to burn and the world began to cave in around you. 

Quentin ran faster than he thought possible across campus, not noticing when he bumped into people. The weird hand statue came into view and then he saw you, huddled into yourself on the ground, sobs rippling through you and other students near you tried to figure out what to do. 

“Y/n,” he called to you softly, desperately trying to pull you out of yourself. “Hey, you are going to be okay, I just need you to look at me.” 

You finally forced your head to look up into his blue eyes and listened as he helped you out of your panic attack. “Just breath with me, alright?” he asked, placing one of your hands on his chest, the other on your own. You nodded and forced your lungs to breathe deeper, slower. 

Soon, the edges of your world went from black and suffocating to soft and filled with his eyes and his smile and his voice. He helped you up from the ground and helped you get to your dorm where you finally told him everything. He spent the next few months helping you put yourself back together with the help of your other friends.

“Y/N, will you forgive me?” Quentin asked, his eyes begging, tinged with something you couldn’t place.

“I just...” you broke away from him. “I need a bit of time. You know how badly Brock hurt me, you were there and you know.” 

Quentin nodded and placed a soft kiss on your cheek before exiting Bucky’s apartment.

[an-unknown-writers-world]

Christmas Cookies

Day One: Snowflake

Part of @panicfob​ 25 Days of Christmas Challenge

Warnings: Angst, First attempt at writing child dialogue (be kind), Bucky and little kid (it’s a warning for your ovaries).

Word Count: 1789

Paring:  Bucky Barnes x Reader(First Person-nameless)

A/N: I’m so excited about this writing series. Christmas is my favorite time of year. This is my first attempt at a series, well anything beyond a one-shot. I will be adding a section to my Masterlist for this series.

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

Baking supplies were thrown about the kitchen counters, as I arranged all the cookie cutters for easy selection. The oven preheated while two batches of rolled out sugar cookie dough sat on the counter. I was excited to spend the afternoon with Morgan baking and decorating cookies, at first, I wasn’t sure how Pepper would respond when I asked to have her little girl over to bake for Christmas; surprisingly she was enthusiastic about the whole situation. Saying something about it’d be good for Morgan to spend time with the people she’d heard so many stories about.

“You’re gonna share, right?” Sam asked rounding the corner.

“If you wanna eat them, you’re gonna have to help decorate them,” I replied with a smile.

“I thought that was what the kid was for?” He pointed at Morgan.

“They call that child labor.” Bucky joked entering the room behind Sam. “And they passed laws banning that in 1938.”

“Does that mean you’re going to help?”  Sam glowered.

Bucky stole a spoon full of dough before smiling at Morgan.

“You’re not ‘posed to do that.” She smiled back at him.

A laugh escaped as I observed the sight in front of me. Oh lord was it a sight too. Both men dressed in sweats but looking like they are partaking in two different events; Sam looked as if he just got home from a run while Bucky looked like he no plans beyond laying on the couch for the day. I was convinced from the day I moved into the compound that Bucky was trying to kill me with just his looks; the way his gray sweatpants hung low on his hips, dangerously low, and a black t-shirt clung to his chest in all the right places. Looks like that, no matter how much I tried to resist, it did things to me.

“How long have you been here munchkin?” Bucky asked kneeling down.

It warmed my heart to see this person the world knew as an elite assassin be pure putty in the hands of a six-year-old little girl.

Morgan shrugged, “Forever.”

Bucky smiled, “C’mere,”

Morgan wiggled her way into his arms as he scooped her up into a big bear hug and kissed her hair.

“I know when I’m not wanted,” Sam muttered opening the fridge.

“Sam, stay,” I called out, “Decorate cookies, eat frosting. It’s the holidays, it’s supposed to be fun.”

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll come steal them when they’re done.” He said disappearing with a water bottle.

Bucky sat Morgan on the counter to look at all the different cookie cutters.

“Unc Buck?” Morgan said look up at him.

I knew those eyes before she even spoke, she was going to ask him for something.

“Yeah, pumpkin?” He was looking at the cutters.

Morgan pulled on his shirt taking back his attention causing Bucky to laugh.

“Decorate cookies with us.” It sounded like a question but more of a demand.

Bucky looked between me and Morgan; we’ve lived under the same roof for three months now and were far from friends. He was polite when he was forced to interact with me; he didn’t run out of the room if I came in, but he never seemed to go out of his way to talk to me either.

“I don’t know baby, I think this was supposed to be a date with your Auntie,”

“Bucky, you are welcome to join.” I interjected, “Really, the more the merrier.”

“I hate to break it to both of you kids, but I’m a terrible baker.”

Morgan and I both laughed.

“How about you help us cut them out, then you can play with her while I bake them and then we can all decorate together?” I purposed.

“What do you think, munchkin?” Bucky asked tickling her sides.

She giggled nodding her head.

“I guess I’m helping with cookies then.”

I smiled at him and mouthed the words ‘thank you’ to him; it was pretty clear that Morgan wasn’t about to let Bucky escape her grasp.

“Whatcha thinkin’ maybe some Santa and Snowmen?” I asked Morgan.

She shook her head no.

“No”

“How about candy canes?” Bucky asked picking up the cutter.

She shook her head again.

“But candy canes are the best.” I agreed.

Morgan picked up a cutter and showed it to us.

“Snowflake,” Bucky and I said in unison with smiles.

“Yeah,”

“Snowflakes and snowmen?” I asked.

She shook her head; she was definitely a Stark – bossy and knows exactly what she wants. “Just this.”

Bucky laughed at my pout. “But sugar bean you can have more than one shape.”

“I know.” She smiled.

“Maybe some people like snow,” Bucky said softly elbowing me.

I refrained from asking questions or making jokes about Bucky and snow; the only thing that came to mind was Siberia.

“Guess we’re making a snowstorm,” I said bumping Morgan’s nose with my finger. “I’ll grab the dough.”

The next half hour the three of us spent arranging snowflakes on the dough and moving them to the cookie sheets, Bucky was sure to show Morgan how to push the cutter just right so there would be little bits of cookie dough that couldn’t be used and would need to be eaten. I smiled each time she tried to do it on her own, I couldn’t help but wonder how this would play out if Tony and Steve were still around. No one in the house seemed to be in the Christmas spirit beside me, but Tony always knew how to throw a good party; maybe he could have gotten everyone else in the spirit?

“Wanna play a game?” Bucky asked Morgan as she put the last cookie on the tray.

She nodded, “Yeah.”

“You go hide and I’ll count to 100 and come find you.”

Her eyes lit up, “I can hide anywhere?”

Both of us smiled at her.

“Anywhere inside.” Bucky clarified.

Before we could blink, she was down from the chair and long out of sight. I picked up two of the tray’s and walked towards the oven; Bucky was close behind with the last two, he set them on the counter.

“Thank you,” I said as he set them down.

He smiled up at me, “Call us when they’re ready to frost?”

“Sure thing.”

With that he disappeared into the rest of the compound, undoubtedly, to exhaust Morgan with childhood games. Selfishly I wished to play with them and leave the cookies behind, but I knew it was best to stay away. I told myself repeatedly to not get too comfortable with this version of Bucky; I had seen glimpses of it before and it always disappeared when Morgan would go home. I wanted to believe it was just an act for her, but not a single Oscar award-winning actor could pull off this good of a show; it had to be authentic.  

When the cookies were baked and cooled, I called Morgan and Bucky back to the kitchen. The three of us frosted and decorated the snowflakes, it was easy to tell the difference between the cookies; excessive sprinkles were Morgan, the plain frosting was Bucky’s and mine were elaborately painted with a mix of colors and sprinkles.

Morgan held a cookie up that was covered in red white and blue sprinkles.

“It’s beautiful, baby girl.” I smiled.

“Uncle Steve would approve,” Bucky commented.

“Capsicle,” Morgan smiled.

Bucky and I both laughed.

“Knock, Knock,” Pepper said rounding the kitchen wall.

“Mommy!” Morgan shouted with a smile.

“Hey Pep,” I smiled.

“Hi, baby girl,” Pepper said coming to stand behind her daughter. “Did you have fun with your aunt and uncle?”

“Look wha' I made,” Morgan said holding up a cookie.

“Oh, it’s beautiful.”

“Glad you think so, we’re sending them all with you for Happy and Peter.”

Pepper laughed, “Too much sugar for you?”

“They will go to waste here,” I replied.

“Won’t you eat any of them?” Pepper asked Bucky.

“One or two. I’m not a sugar cookie fan.” He replied honestly. “And Sam doesn’t deserve any.”

I laughed, “He was told he had to help if he wanted any.”

I got up to grab Tupperware for the cookies while Pepper and Bucky talked about the games he played with Morgan. She thanked him for always being so attentive to the little girl, explaining that the relationship between the two meant so much to her. I hated to interrupt with the cookies when I did.

“Let’s go, baby, we’re gonna go see Peter on the way home.”

“Yay!” Morgan exclaimed,

“Thanks for coming over today,” Bucky said leaning down to the girl.

She smiled up at him, “Love you.”

He kissed her cheek, “I love you too munchkin.”

“I’ll walk you guys out,” I said.

Morgan held my hand as we walked through the kitchen and down the hall to the double doors in the foyer. Pepper carried the container of cookies as we made our way out to the car, a driver I didn’t recognize opened the back door of the Escalade and took the cookies.

I bent down to Morgan, “I had a good day today, thank you for helping make it so special.”

“Me too,”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Morgan replied.

I kissed her cheek before the driver helped her up into the car.

“Thanks again for letting me take her for the afternoon,” I said hugging Pepper.

“It was a great idea, I’m glad she has you both.” She smiled, “Seems he’s pretty happy to have you too.”

“Pepper, no, nothing is going on there. The only time he’s around me willingly is when she’s around.” I nodded towards Morgan.

“If you want to tell yourself that be my guest, but I saw the way he looks at you.”

I rolled my eyes with a smile, “Give Peter a big hug for me, okay?”

She laughed, “I will, I’ll see you at the Christmas Party, right?” She asked climbing in the car.

“Of course. It’s the one day a year that I actually get to dress up.”

She closed the door with a smile and turned to go into the house. It was deathly quiet without Morgan. Smiling to myself I walked back to the kitchen to start to clean up. My mind wandered at the topic Pepper mentioned about Bucky and me, but that thought process was cut short when I found the kitchen empty. The dishes had been arranged nicely by the sink and the majority of the mess had been cleaned up, but Bucky was nowhere in sight. Guess it didn’t take him long to snap out of his mood.

It was going to be a long December.

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

Harvet Moon, pt. 2

Steve Rogers x Reader, Summer AU

A/N: Every chapter will have a designated song to it, so please take a listen! Will be linked below. I don’t own any Marvel characters.

Summary: For five summers, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes and you had been a trio; spending the summer at a lake with your families. While Bucky tagged along, there had always been a special bond between Steve and you. Every summer the lake had been something to look forward to until you stopped going and life moved on. Now as adults, Steve and you return at the same time, for different reasons. Can you rekindle that friendship or was it just youthful summer magic?

masterlist

Chapter Two: You’ve Haunted Me All My Life – Death Cab for Cutie

The lake was just as beautiful as you remembered, the cabins aligned just as they always had. When you booked a week stay, you requested the same cabin your parents had rented each summer and wasn’t shocked to see that it had changed. It was more modern, but you could still recognize the general layout of the place. Leaving the cabin door open, you walked down the porch stairs and walked over to your car. The weather was great, sunny but not entirely blazing hot but still the jeans and jacket you were wearing needed to go. First, you wanted to bring everything in; especially the box in the back seat. Feeling a bit at ease, you grabbed the box and walked it up the stairs, and when you got inside, you placed it on the kitchen counter.

“We’re here,” you announced, picking up the walnut wooden urn from the box. Placing it on the counter, you sighed and stepped away from the kitchen, glancing around the entire cabin. It brought back memories, mostly good. Your parents had been going through a dry spell in their marriage and your dad came up with the idea of going to the lake for the summer; it had been a place he had gone to as a child, and he thought it was a chance to kindle something in their marriage again. He had told you about his plan, you remembered him being so hopeful and it made you hopeful. So when the three of you arrived, you made sure to leave them alone as much as possible – that’s why you were glad to make friends with two boys; Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes.

Those two were your best friends that summer and had been for many summers after, the three of you swam all morning in the lake, went fishing, and hiking every chance you had. Steve had been this lanky little fella, but was so sweet and funny, and Bucky had the looks with the charm – the three of you would roam around for hours and often get lost in childhood mishaps. It was fun and you had looked forward to the lake every summer, until your parents finally divorced and it felt tainted. You had missed the boys, especially Steve; the two of you had bonded more than Bucky, who often found some girl to follow around. Steve and you could spend hours just talking, sometimes you’d read while he drew and it was great, the lake in the view as you lounged on the deck of your cabin. You never forgot him, but those memories had become painful because of what was happening in the background; your family falling apart.

“Shit,” you sighed again, trying to push away everything sad. You had come here for a reason and it wouldn’t hurt to enjoy yourself some; so you decided to change and take a walk around the lake.

….

“Man, this place hasn’t changed much.” Bucky whistled as he closed the trunk, tossing the cabin keys to Steve. “Go open up, I got the rest of the bags.”

Holding a case of beer and his bag, Steve did as he was told, walking up the stairs; each step a memory came back to him, they were lucky Bucky was able to book the same cabin the Barnes use to stay in. Those summers had meant so much to him, his mother always urging him to go, because he knew she could never afford to send him to camp or rent her own cabin. He hated leaving her behind, even at such a young age, but she was always encouraging, and he was grateful that she had let him go. The late nights spent on the deck with Bucky and his family, cookouts and game boards. Often, he’d make sure to sit facing the cabin your family had occupied, a direct view if he sat in the right spot. All night as they played and ate, he’d find himself hoping to catch a glimpse of you; sometimes you’d be on your own deck and wave at him, motioning for him to get the walkie you had loaned him out. He’d turn it on and ask if you wanted to come over to play games, most of the time you would, and it would make the night better. When board games became less appealing at the age of 14, you’d asked him to come over to listen to music on the new CD player your dad had gotten you. Bucky would tease him but tell him to go, and Steve never felt bad because he figured he’d leave the Barnes for a while so they could be a proper family.

Those nights, you sat shoulder to shoulder as the music came out a bit muffled from the headphones you had around your neck. Usually it was new stuff that Steve wasn’t a fan of, but sometimes you'd surprise him with a much older artist; Patsy Cline was a favorite of yours.

“When I’m older I’ll be heartbroken and drinking in a bar while this plays,” you said and Steve had laughed, because it seemed stupid. Now, as he opened the door and turned around to get a look at the lake, it didn’t seem so stupid. Maybe you were going through something at the time or were just a hopeless romantic, but fourteen was such a young age to long for heartbreak – what did he know? At that age he wanted to marry Peyton from One Tree Hill.

“Let’s get settled, I should call Nat to let her know we got here,” Bucky said, passing him as he walked into the cabin. Steve stared for a few more seconds at the lake, watched as a few children played together at the edge and he smiled; he wished he could be a child again, life had been sweeter when the only thing he worried about was getting home before dark. 

He thought of you, could almost picture you standing by the lake that first day, cursing under your breath – you always had a foul mouth, got you in trouble with all the adults. You were fun like that, braver than he could ever be and he hoped you were happy where you were.

Steve smiled as the children shouted and felt the sun bearing down on his skin. Bucky called to him from somewhere in the cabin, so he followed his voice into the cabin and closed the door.

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[essayofthoughts]

Sleep, friendship and childhood headcanons for Wanda and... Loki? Maybe?

☾ - sleep headcanon

Wanda, I think, has long been used to sleeping in close proximity to her brother - they were twins, orphaned in a war zone, we see how close they are in AOU and in the comics they’re not much different. I honestly get the sense that Wanda is used to sleeping with family close by, in the same bed (due to lack of beds or space) or not. I think she tends to start sleeping curled up in a ball and slowly stretches out in her sleep, at least at first after Pietro dies. I think she often almost rolled off her bed trying to find the sense of where her brother was in proximity to her - to share warmth, to hold his hand, to hear his breathing across the room. They’re used to being together, for him not to be there probably fucked with her sleep a lot. With time, I think she slowly eased out of those habits, though when shaken or upset I think she goes back to them and that it sometimes makes matters worse to be so reminded of his loss. I also think that when Wanda is sleeping her eyes glow red through her eyelids if she’s dreaming particularly intensely, or her dreams are sparking intense emotions. Pietro, always close to her and standing guard for her, knew this. Other people get scared shitless...

Except Loki. I think Loki is someone who has trouble sleeping. Wanda is always thinking and considering, but she knows when to set it aside and that she needs rest. Pietro had constant energy, but he had a purpose to tame it. Loki has both energy and a constantly active brain, and I think he’s someone who dwells on his mistakes, not to self-flagellate and feel bad necessarily, but in order to see if he can figure out where he went wrong and what he can do to rectify it. Wanda learns from what Steve says: you can acknowledge you made a mistake, but you have to move on from it and just try harder next time otherwise the losses may be worse. Loki doesn’t really have that same kind of mentorship, especially as Odin and Thor both fell into a very traditional kind masculine heroism. Loki was always more the trickster and was taught magic by Frigga... who died. I think Loki either sleeps fitfully or like the dead, alternating severely depending on recent events, and that when he can’t sleep, he wanders.

And he’s not spooked by Wanda’s glowing eyes in sleep, because he remembers that his mother would cast some magics asleep, spells to See at a distance or to See the future or the paths of probability, or, sometimes, to See the past in order to understand what happened, and maybe Frigga’s eyes glowed gold and Wanda’s eyes glow red and maybe Frigga cast magic and Wanda simply works with the power in her veins, but it is a particular kind of familiarity that he doesn’t much mind and that, sometimes, eases his anxious and energetic brain into something that can get some damn rest. 

☮ - friendship headcanon

So, at first, they don’t get on. I mean, Loki can be a little shit, and I think he’d tease Wanda and while he’s no Tony, I think there’s definitely times he would, rather as he did with Valkyrie, pull up things she didn’t want to think about, either by needling her about the loss of her home to try to antagonise her into fighting alongside them, or by explicitly drawing up memories of the loss of her parents and her brother. 

And Wanda would not like that, and retaliate in kind with an instinctive lashing out of her magic. Loki summoning up her worst memories with a spell and catching a glimpse and Wanda’s mind seeing him on the edge of her thoughts and sensing the enchantment he’s used to do so and casting it back on him.

And Wanda sees all of Loki’s mistakes, and all the things that eat at him and she withdraws. She lets it be. She’ll lash out at him if he tries to needle again - he’s shown he has no compunctions about doing it to her - but otherwise she’s content to just ignore him.

But, that she lashed out at him and in that specific way - turning back what he did to her onto him - and seeing those things in his mind but choosing not to do anything, not to needle, just to ignore and let it be, I think would get her some respect from Loki. I don’t think he’d apologise. Loki is too slippery a creature to ever truly apologise and admit an utter wrongdoing in absolute terms except in extenuating circumstances, but I do think he might try to make some kind of amends.

Such as by offering to teach her true magic.

That, I think, could spark some friendship. Loki knowing that Wanda has power enough to stop him at almost any moment, that Wanda could wreck most people and chooses not to, thats he has power but won’t lord it over others and knowing why and so not fearing she’s suddenly going to become a false friend, and Wanda knowing Loki’s issues well enough to see what he means between the words he speaks and taking the chance to learn. I think it’d take them some time, but I think they could have a very strange friendship that’d seemingly come out of nowhere to a lot of people. 

▼ - childhood headcanon

I have no childhood headcanons for Loki, I’m afraid, but I have many for Wanda.

Wanda’s childhood was... it was good, when she was little. She had Pietro at her side, so she never feared. She had parents who loved her, so she never felt unprotected. She had a modicum of security and a sense of fairness and some idea of the conflicts going on in her city even from a young age. She played and she laughed and Pietro was ever her shadow, close by in her wake, and things were good.

And then the bombs hit.

I don’t think Wanda really considered herself a child after that. After that, her safety and wellbeing became Pietro’s all-consuming obsession. After that, she had to keep herself and Pietro out of trouble, safe and fed and away from the riots. As she got older, she had to decide which protests they went to because Pietro needed an outlet and she needed an outlet and it was not fair how this world was, and no, there is no fairness inherent to the universe, she learned that when she was ten, but she knows the pain of that, too, and she knows that just because things aren’t fair doesn’t mean you can’t wish that they were and seek to make them as such. 

Wanda retained some childlike aspects. She likes to dream. She likes to daydream. She likes to hope and imagine and she likes stories. She likes songs. She likes poems.

She just knows that none of them are true.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Heart of Steel - VI

Description: Sir James is known throughout the lands as the most fearsome and honorable warrior. Ballads have been written about him. Men fear him. He is the most trusted knight of the King Henry. So why has he given up the glories of war and pledged his loyalty to Princess Y/N?

Pairing: Medieval AU -Knight!Bucky x Princess!Reader

Word Count: 3,400

Series Masterlist

Y/N thought she was late enough to breakfast to miss her family and any lingering guests from the ball.

She was sadly mistaken.

Her plan was to sneak out with Bucky. She was dressed in plain clothes, clothes plain enough to have her mistaken for a peasant. Bucky became uneasy when she tried to pull stunts such as this. But, as always, he would rather accompany her than refuse Y/N and have her alone and unprotected.

“Peter fetch our horses. Run along.” Bucky instructed the boy. Peter nodded and rushed ahead of them. 

But just as Y/N and Bucky turned the corner, they found King Steven in a polite conversation with Y/N’s mother.

The Queen instantly spotted her and daughter.

Y/N’s plan to sneak out of the castle was destroyed. Slowly, and with an obvious disappointment, she walked over to them.

“Y/N, we missed you at breakfast.” The Queen pointed out. But really she was giving Y/N a preview of the scolding that would come.

“I was not hungry, mother.” Y/N replied.

“Why on earth are you dressed like that?” Her mother looked her up and down, utterly disgusted with the cheap, brown dress on the princess.

Y/N knew she must lie and she had become very good at it. But before she could manipulate the words, King Steven interrupted.

“I apologize, Your Majesty. I had requested that Y/N go for a ride with me. Prince Anthony had mentioned her love for it.” Steve explained politely.

The Queen eyed him for a moment. “I see. Well, that is still no excuse for that dreadful outfit, Y/N. I agree, you should show the kingdom to our visitor. But the people cannot see their princess in such a manner. Go change and then rejoin King Steven.”

Without giving her time to argue, the Queen was leaving them, a handful of servants scurrying after her.

It left Y/N, Bucky, and Steve alone.

“You did not have to lie on my behalf, King Steven.” Y/N muttered lowly.

“A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice, Your Highness.” Steve bowed his head with an amused smirk.

It earned him a glare from Y/N. “I assure you, King Steven, I need no aid in deception. I became a master of deceit long ago.”

Steve’s face fell slightly. “I shall keep that in mind, princess.”

“Best you do,” Y/N warned. “Now if you are done with your wasted chivalry, I must bid you ado.” She tried brushing past him, but Steve gently grabbed her upper arm to stop her.

Bucky did not appreciate that at all. Though he did not unsheathe his sword or a knife, he pressed a hand to Steve’s chest and pushed him a good foot away from the princess.

“Sir James, calm yourself,” Y/N warned him cooly.

But Steve only looked mildly annoyed. He glared at Bucky’s hand, but made no move to retaliate.

“It was my mistake,” Steve claimed, as he held his hands in surrender. Then he eyed Bucky. Y/N swore she saw a smirk hidden on his lips. Steve noted how Bucky didn’t move from his place between him and Y/N. 

“I see I need not worry about you, Princess Y/N. You are well looked after,” Steve thought aloud.  

Bucky did not acknowledge the backhanded compliment.   “I find it curious that you should worry about me at all.” Y/N countered.

Steve laughed lightly at her comment. Then he looked past Bucky and to Y/N. “Forgive me. I only wished to prolong our time together. Perhaps you really could be my guide. Then it would not be a lie.”

Y/N looked unamused with his offer and wit. She glanced at Bucky for a moment before finally nodding her head. “I cannot decide if your persistence is admirable or a nuisance, King Steven,” she sighed. “Allow me to change. I will only be a moment.”

Bucky started to follow her, but Y/N held up a hand.

“Wait here, Sir James.” She ordered harshly. “Perhaps a moment alone will give you two a much needed reunion.”

Bucky eyed her, wondering what game she was playing. But she quickly escaped to her room, leaving the two men alone.

Silence settled between them. But their ears caught echoes of the hustle and bustle of the castle: footsteps on the marble floor, servants’ hushed whispers, laughter from the royal court.

“Why did you leave?” Steve finally spoke.

Bucky shifted his weight uncomfortably, but did not answer.

“Do you feel you cannot talk to me as you once did, now that you know my birthright?” Steve pushed.

“You are a king. I am but a mere knight, Your Majesty.”

Steve sighed, “Those beliefs are exactly why I never told you when we were children. You were my best friend, Buck. King or not, I still see you as such… the time that has passed means nothing to me.”

“It does not matter how much you wish it, we will never be equals.” Bucky replied harshly.

“I thought you had died. There was an attack on your village. When I never found you again, I thought you were one of the innocent who were murdered.” Steve told him quietly.

Bucky stared at him a moment, finally catching the sadness in his old friend’s eyes. The King truly was relieved to find Bucky alive and well. But their lives were different now. They couldn’t just go back to how things were when they were boys.

Bucky took in a deep breath, “For the sake of Her Highness, I think it is best we forget our past.”

————

Steve helped Y/N down the stones steps at the entrance of the castle. Now she wore a dress that was much more fitting for a princess. There was a covered carriage waiting for them.

But Y/N caught sight of a female knight wearing the emblem of Midgard. She was shorter than the men surrounding them. But she had bright red hair tied back in a tight ponytail. And she had the beauty that any princess or queen would envy.

Steve saw Y/N watching his knight.

“Y/N, this is my personal guard, Natasha.”

The knight bowed her head. “It is an honor, Your Highness.”

“It is rare to see a woman knight in these parts. The honor is all mine.” Y/N curtsied.

With the introductions over, Natasha and Bucky both mounted horses to follow the carriage, along with the royal guard. Meanwhile, Steve offered Y/N his hand as she climbed into the covered carriage.

“You do not seem like a royal who requires a personal guard, King Steven.” Y/N thought aloud as they rode towards the town’s square.

“She is more the hand of the king, my most trusted advisor. Dame Natasha sees and hears all. I trust her with my life. The bodyguard title is more for show and to calm the worries of my people.”

Y/N smiled at that, “The people only wish to see you safe.”

“Would it be too much to ask if you simply called me Steve?” He asked her quietly.

When she turned away from the window of the carriage, she was met with Steve’s pleading blue eyes. They made her weak.

“You are very forward, King Steven.” Then she sighed. “I will... only if you simply call me Y/N in return.”

Eventually their carriage stopped in the square. Commoners were already gathered around, happily waiting to catch a glimpse of a royal.

Steve helped Y/N out of the carriage. People gawked at the couple. Surely rumors would now be spreading of their engagement soon. The thought should’ve bothered Y/N more.

She started leading them towards a market, filled with foods and crafts of all sort. Bucky and Natasha were just a few steps behind. The royal guard followed their lead.

“May I ask,” Steve began, “if your mother and I had not intercepted you, where were headed?”

Y/N smiled at his nosiness, but said nothing. Instead, she bent down to smell some fresh lavender at a tent selling flowers.

Steve watched her for a moment, realizing she had no intention of telling him. “You do not trust me yet, do you, Y/N?” He finally asked her, with a sad voice.

She looked at him. “You have given me no reason to.” Her tone was cold. “I do not give trust easily, Your Majesty. Have you already forgotten that we only just met last night?”

“It is Steve… I beg you.” He instantly corrected. It seemed his title and throne embarrassed him. 

Once again, he wore simply clothes of brown and black. They were well-made, but nothing extravagant. Y/N wanted to give him the moniker of The Modest King. His mind was not poisoned with ego like so many kings before him. 

“Yes, it was only last night that we met,” Steve agreed. “Yet you have already made me lie to the Queen on your behalf. Have you put me under a spell, Y/N?”

Her heart beat a little heavier at the sound of just her name on his tongue. Y/N giggled at his question. “I am no witch. I suppose I have a way of bringing the mischief out of even the most well-behaved kings.”

Steve stared at her. It was obvious he was utterly smitten with her.

“Come with me back to Midgard,” He blurted out.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“I apologize…” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose out of frustration for himself. “I only meant that I have matters to attend to. I must return sooner than expected. I was only hoping you would accompany me. Your father said you have not been to Midgard since you were a child.”

“Yes, I was just a little girl.” Y/N admitted. Then a thought suddenly occurred to her. “Why did I never meet you when I was there? And why do I have no memories of you visiting Zamora as a boy?”

Steve frowned. “I was a very sickly child. They kept me locked in my bedchambers for most of my youth. My mother feared I would not make it past childhood. My ailments started to disappear the older I got… until they disappeared completely. I could not travel nor receive guests. That is why you and I have never met.”

Y/N eyes softened at his story. It only added to Steve’s terrible and heartbreaking past.

“You would not know it from the looks of you now,” She admitted as her eyes took in his height and wide shoulders. Even his thick clothes couldn’t hide the strong muscles that covered his bones.

“Yes,” Steve chuckled. “Well, I always hated the feeling of weakness that trapped me as a child. The moment I could fight it, I promised to rid myself of it forever.”

Y/N’s stomach flipped at his words. It sounded eerily similar to her conversation with Peter when he asked why she was so adamant to learn sword wielding.

Steve caught her expression drop. “Have I said something wrong?” He asked with worry.

“No.” Y/N gasped. “No, you have not. Quite the opposite, actually.”

“So you will not join me on my journey home?” Steve asked sadly. He figured her change of subject was her polite way of declining his offer.

Y/N looked uncomfortable at being put on the spot. She had trained all of her life for conversations with fellow royals and nobles. Yet Steve seemed to make her incapable of using her tricks and manipulation.

“I feel I must emphasize the invitation is without any underlying motives or false pretenses. Our kingdoms have been allies for centuries. It has been too long since a royal member of Zamora visited.” Steve seemed to become more nervous with Y/N’s silence and started rambling. “I only wish to show you my home and my people. I think you would love Midgard.”

Y/N looked back at Bucky for some reason.

Steve caught it. “You can bring whomever you wish, as well. Your guards, your ladies or servants…whomever you want. If it shall make you more comfortable, then I insist.”

“I must consult my father first…” Y/N stalled.

Steve smirked cheekily. “There is no need. I already spoke with him and your mother on the matter.”

That would explain the conversation Y/N and Bucky had interrupted with Steve and the queen earlier. 

She tilted her head at his antics. Then she bent down and smelled more of the flowers at the market tent.

“Yes,” Y/N replied without looking at him. “I shall accompany you back to Midgard.”

When she finally looked at him, Steve was struggling to control his happiness.

“We will leave in two days,” he announced. Then he reached into a leather pouch that was attached to his belt and pulled out a few coins. He handed them to the trader and pointed to a bouquet of lavender.

Steve handed them to Y/N as if it was nothing. They kept walking through the market. Bucky watched on as little girls greeted their princess with giggles and little boys handed her more flowers as they passed. Women looked at her with envy and men with desire.

Y/N pointed out things to Steve here and there, explaining their history or relevance. Steve listened closely and asked many questions, proving his genuine interest in what she had to tell him.  

Bucky never imagined Y/N ever being in danger when they were amongst her people. Zamora loved their princess. She had never failed them. If they had their way, she would stay in the kingdom forever, never being taken away by another king or prince due to marriage.

They strolled the streets for an hour or so before Steve suggested they head back.

Y/N remained quiet once again as she stared out the windows of the carriage.

“Y/N?” Steve asked with obvious nerves.

She turned to him.

“What happened to Bucky? Why did he ever leave Midgard and come here?”

Her eyes immediately went sad. “I believe that is a story only Sir James should tell.”

“He will not speak with me as he once did. It seems he sees my title as a betrayal. I do not believe he will ever view me as a friend again.” Steve confessed.

Y/N stared out the window, giving herself time to figure out if she wanted to share Bucky’s history with this man.

“He only told me once and then he never spoke of it again. There was a sickness traveling through the kingdom. I was bedridden and almost all of the servants were ill as well. Sir James watched over me, stayed by my bed for days. He filled the silence, my only entertainment being his stories. I do not think he believes I even remember, that my fever would have made me forget.”

Y/N stared off, “Your kingdom was at war. It was before Hydra. Sir James wanted to fight alongside his father, who was but a mere footman in the army. But his father refused it, instead he insisted Sir James stay with his mother and baby sister to look after them. The war was coming far too close to their home. However, Sir James was a stubborn thing, he tried to sneak out in the night and catch up with his father and the other soldiers.” 

Y/N paused, trying to control her emotions. “But just after he left, his village was attacked by a war party of savages. Bucky saw the smoke from a distance and rode back as fast as he could. But it was too late. Half of the village was slaughtered… his mother and little sister just two of the innocent lives that were taken that day.”

“And what of his father?” Steve whispered.

“His father died in battle the next day.” Y/N took in a deep breath. “He blames himself for what happened that day... convinced he could have saved his mother and sister if he had just done what his father asked. But he was just a boy,” Y/N defended. “He would have died with them. His guilt destroyed him. It haunts him still, I know.”

“I remember that attack.” Steve admitted. “It was the reason I thought Bucky had been dead all these years. I believed he was killed with his village.”

Y/N nodded. “He said he could not bare living there any longer. Everything reminded him of his family and he no longer had a home. So he left. The poor thing almost starved to death. He had no choice but to become a mercenary. So he fought for Hydra, until he could live independently.”

“It explains the changes in him.” Steve pointed out.

“What do you mean?”

Steve stared deeply into her y/e/c eyes. “Bucky was happy and careless as a boy,” then Steve chuckled at the past. “He flirted with every pretty lady he found. All the village girls were smitten with him. He was always smiling and laughing. He had the charm of a prince that I did not.”

Y/N’s heart broke. The man Steve was describing sounded like a stranger.

“But there are still whispers of his old self,” Steve assured her. “I was teased for how little and sickly I was then. Bucky always defended me. He picked fights and dragged me out of the ones I was not strong enough to win. He was protective and fiercely loyal.”

Y/N smirked, recognizing those features. “He still is,” she hummed.

When they returned to the castle, the stiffness of royalty consumed them once again.

Steve helped Y/N out of the carriage, but he held onto her hand longer than necessary. Y/N looked up at him, hypnotized by his bright blue eyes.

“Thank you for humoring me today and being my guide. I very much enjoyed it.” He dipped his head with bashfulness.

Y/N curtsied. “I shall see you at dinner tonight… Steve.”

She smirked at how his eyes lit up from her finally using his first name and leaving out the title of ‘king’.

He nodded excitedly and watched her walk into the castle, Bucky close behind.

Steve felt Natasha’s presence at his side as his eyes stayed glued on Y/N’s retreating form.

“You are dangerously smitten, Your Majesty.” Her voice was low, yet playful.

“She is a rare beauty, Natasha.” He stated quietly.

“That she is… but she will not be easy to woo.”

Steve turned to his guard, “I know.” 

Natasha nodded slowly. “Careful, Your Majesty. Make sure you are after the prize and not the challenge.”

—————

Bucky could practically feel the chaos in Y/N’s head as he escorted her back to her wing of the castle. She was caught inside her mind and Bucky wanted to know why.

When they reached her door, she stopped and her hand hovered over the handle.

Then she slowly turned around and stared at him. By some miracle, the halls were empty and there was no servants or guards around.

Bucky squinted, trying to figure out what she was thinking or why she was looking at him with such agony.

Y/N cupped his cheek with her right hand and traced his cheekbone, then moving down to do the same to his jawline.

Bucky couldn’t help but melt into her touch. As much as he tried to fight it, he couldn’t resist leaning into her palm.

“You are not alone, Bucky. No matter where I go, you will always have a piece of me. Do you understand?” Her words were in a slow whisper.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed slightly in confusion. But he covered her hand that was on his cheek with his own and nodded. It didn’t take him long to guess that Steve had told her something about his childhood.

Then Y/N stepped away, bringing them back to reality.

“King Steven has asked me to accompany him on his journey back to Midgard. He wishes to show me his kingdom. Will you join me?” Her voice had returned to her curt princess tone.

“Where you go, I will always follow, Your Highness.” Bucky answered.

“I would not hold it against you if you refused. Will it not be painful to return to your homeland, Sir James?”

Bucky shifted his weight awkwardly and refused to me her gaze.

“What is it?” She persisted.

“I…I do not like to be away from you. It makes me restless.” He admitted with slight embarrassment. It was a rarity to see Sir James lose his confidence and calm demeanor.

“Perhaps it is time for me to finally return home,” he added quietly.

Part VII

Write me a lovely book review ❤️

[crimes-and-gelato]

Only Half a Blue Sky (Chapter Three)

Rating: M Pairings: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes

Chapter Title: Hooked on a Feeling

A/N: First and foremost, thank you to aoifelaufeyson for beta reading this at the last minute. Thanks a massive, dear. :) And of course, all remaining mistakes are still mine.It was Leez's idea actually for the plot to go like this: with Bucky learning that he's Tony's soulmate before Tony learning that he's Bucky's soulmate, too. Because she's brilliant. So, it's all thanks to her.We change POV on this chapter. Two new POVs: Nat and Bucky's. Since, we're gonna deal with a Bucky POV, you should be warned that he's going to go through some depressing thought about his Winter Soldier days. And as for Nat's part, it's going to have some mentions of Howard's A+ parenting, which I will probably add in the tag as well.Okay, I talked waaaay too much. Thank you for being here, if you're still here. Let's get on with the show. :))

**

**

“Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red.” -Kait Rokowski

**

**

It’s been two weeks. Two weeks of these awkward evasive dance from James and Tony. Natasha’s sure Steve hasn’t noticed yet, he’s too busy focusing on James’ rehabilitation and Avenger business to have detected this game of avoidance between his two best friends. But she saw it.

The two didn’t start up great with how they have Maria’s death between them. And she was sure there won’t be anything more between them besides trying to be civil with each other for Steve’s sake. But of course, he’s Tony Stark and he plans to prove her wrong with how generous he can be with his kindness and forgiveness to those who deserve it.

Natasha’s a testament to Tony’s generosity even after she betrayed his trust, and wrote down words about him that she can never take back all because Fury wanted her to push Tony’s button. The evaluation was all scripted because she somehow got a glimpse of the real Tony Stark in the days she acted as his secretary.

Yes, he’s egotistical but only when he’s trying to annoy people and push their buttons, or when he’s trying to hide the fact that he has a heart and cares too much about how others perceive him. Howard Stark might have been the main root of all the self-doubt he covers up with dramatic performances as he’d heard snippets of Tony’s childhood from the man himself.

Unfortunately, the senior Stark wanted Tony to be a man who should only focus on important things like creating an outstanding future with robotics and science, anything that’s unrelated to both are considered unnecessary. Feelings for example will only get in the way of progress and brilliance, Howard said. And Tony, being the sensitive person that he truly is despite all the hard layers he hides under, had a hard time trying to fulfill his father’s wishes.

And Tony never has, he tells Natasha so. That’s why everything he does will never be good enough, because all his life all he had heard from Howard was how he was never good enough. Stark men are made of iron and Tony’s not there yet, his father implied constantly when he was still alive.

Even when Howard’s rotting in his grave for more than two decades now, Tony continues to carry around the man’s expectation. If Natasha could bring Howard back from the dead, she’d stab him a couple times for all the pain he brought on his son. But she can’t do that, all she can do is help Tony see that he’s a far greater man than his father ever will.

Both she and Tony had started on the wrong foot, but they have come far away from that awful beginning of lies and manipulations. Now that they have both come clean of their masks and bluffs, they’ve discovered how much they have in common and they draw strength in that as they rely on each other.

By far Tony’s one of the three people she will trust with her life. First has to be Clint, then Pepper, and then the genius. Maybe Coulson too and Steve. It’s a very short list because it’s hard to get on it. They all need to pass by several tests and personal issues first.

Now, Tony’s acting all weird around James. She’s curious and concerned about this sudden change in their dynamic when a few weeks ago Tony couldn't  stop talking about James’ arm and all he planned to do with it, and sometimes when he forgets himself he gushes over the super soldier’s strength and physique. And it’s cute. She can tell he has a crush that he tries to hide but he fails at times when he has this fond and nostalgic smile on his lips when he talks about the James he saw on the old reels.

What’s not cute is the fact that Tony shouldn’t go on with  this infatuation because it’s only set on heartaches. She doesn’t want that for him. Never. He’s been hurt too much and deserved better.

She observes  from a distance and tries  to figure out if Tony had suddenly realised that he had feelings for James that will never be reciprocated and is now doing his very best to keep away from the super soldier.

But then, James is also acting bizarre. The ex-assassin keeps glancing at the genius when Tony isn’t looking. And there’s something about the gaze that’s somehow translates to longing. The why is still blank. She needs to investigate further.

It’s one thing for Tony to avoid James. But it’s another for James to avoid Tony as well but still look at the engineer like he’s itching to touch him and be near him.

Bizarre. Her family is confusing. It’s actually interesting as well. Better than all the spy mission that Fury sends her these days.

Natasha sits down on her usual breakfast chair in the kitchen and watches quietly as James digs holes behind Tony’s back in the living room. The billionaire has his back on the sofa, facing the window that looks out over Manhattan as he talks to someone on the phone in French. Even from this view she can appreciate his form that's perfectly fitted into a charcoal grey suit. She wonders if that’s also the reason why James’ is looking far too many times than should be normal.

What’s it with these super soldiers and Tony? She’s not even going to mention how Steve has the same look towards the resident engineer. Really interesting.

She sips her coffee and formulates a plan to get answers. She might not be a scientist, but she’s not against experiments is all.

**

**

Tony is a very tactile person, and even more so when he’s exhausted or when he’s lost in his science thoughts. These are the perfect moments to cuddle with him without him being so damn defensive about being snuggled because ‘I’m a grown ass man, Natasha .’

And yes, she had mentioned a lot of times that she doesn’t like to be embraced as well. Especially in public, and how any show of emotion or affection makes her defensive, too. But she gives an exception to Tony. Because he’s Tony.

At first, she was wary of Tony. Of anyone for that matter. She doesn’t want to get attached because she’s a spy, an assassin, a seductress. In short, someone who’s not made — the Red Room guaranteed that — for permanent domesticity because they’re weapons first, and people last.

They’re only people when the work needed them to be. But it’s all a façade in the end because they will always come back to their original role: a weapon. It’s their function. It’s how they were brought up to think.

Not anymore for her. Thanks to SHIELD. But habits stick and so does the brainwashing, and everything else that’s been fed to her from the moment she was able to understand words and orders.

So, she’s always cautious. She doesn’t want to get attached.

But she did, because it’s Tony. The genius is an idiot who has sacrificial tendencies engraved into his bone that’s borderline —nine out of ten — exasperating. And also, because he’s funny and different.

And as time moved  further they grew to gravitate towards each other for comfort often enough that it became a habit. One she doesn’t want to depart with because she likes being close to Tony. He feels safe. And safe in their line of work is scarce. And what’s rarer is her finding someone she can trust like she trust him. So that’s that.

‘Now, that Tony’s here we have to start with the whole Star Wars saga,’ Clint announces. ‘Since Barnes hasn’t seen them yet.’

It’s the first team movie night that Tony is attending since James arrived. And she already made sure that the seat next to her will be empty so the engineer can have it. She usually sits with Clint, but he’s sitting next to Sam, Steve’s veteran friend.

Before James’ arrival, Steve and Tony have always sat together because Cap’s the only one who can tolerate the genius’ unnecessary — and most of the time, funny — commentary. Cap always smiles on Tony’s jokes during movie nights.

It’s ridiculous and silly how they both get along so well — although they do tend to rile each other up at times. Still, they work together in perfect synchronization that at one point she believed that they must be soulmates or something. But Cap is bonded to James (who was believed to be dead at the time). So, is it possible for him to have another soulmate? Because that’s the only explanation she can come up with with how much Steve and Tony complement each other.

Their science hasn’t explained much about soulmates and the other mysteries about it. By far, the only law about it is someone mentioning your name or your preferred name and then your bonded.

Thinking back now, she’s still curious on whether Steve and Tony could have been soulmates? Is that even possible? They both continue to steal glimpses of each other, only now it’s more like of the glances that James is throwing at Tony.

What is up with these three?

‘I don’t know,’ Bruce inserts, taking his place next to Thor, who’s currently eating pop tarts. ‘Do we really want to start another long discussion about Luke Skywalker?’

‘The new Star Wars then?’ Clint offers.

Bruce shakes his head with a soft smile. ‘Clint, you’re not the one who’s going to have to listen to him soliloquy about Poe.’

‘Fine.’ He rolls his eyes sarcastically. ‘What do we watch then?’

‘ Mamma Mia !’ Thor bellows excitedly. ‘I have great likeness when Friend Anthony sings along to the hymns. It reminds me of home after winning a battle when me and my companions feast and the bards plays a tune we can all carol to.’

‘This is absurd,’ Tony exclaims as he enters the room. ‘That was one time, Point Break.’ He sternly glares at Thor, mockingly. ‘I trusted that you’d keep that secret close to heart and guard it with your life. But no, you have to unravel these happenings behind my back where I cannot defend my honour.’

‘I apologise, my good friend,’ Thor amends, smiling and looking far from apologetic. ‘You have a fantastic voice that needs to be shared and heard by our friends.’

Tony’s gaze wanders for two seconds on the seat next to Cap that James occupies. But the engineer immediately darts his eyes away and proceeds to the empty one next to Natasha.

She wants to say it’s not hurt she saw in Tony’s eyes when he surreptitiously glances at the two super soldiers. But clearly it’s a little bit of that because he’s suddenly all stiff and talkative as he sits down next to her.

‘And no, we cannot watch Mamma Mia just to please Point Break,’ he announces. ‘That was only a one time occasion because he was homesick and moping around.’ He leans further into Natasha’s side. ‘If it’s all the same to you guys, we should go with Twilight .’

Everyone makes an exasperated groan, except for James, who doesn’t have any idea about the turmoil ahead of them.

‘Oh please, at least they had great casting,’ Tony chides. ‘Not like you-know-who creator.’

‘You only like it because you think Dr. Cullen is hot,’ Clint retorts back and throws a popcorn at Tony.

‘Wait, I thought you said you watch it because of Alice?’ Steve interjects, turning to the genius.

Tony only shrugs at the blond and stares ahead on the wide TV screen. ‘J, put on some Twilight , please.’

There’s another series of displease voices as the room darkens further and the screen bursts into life. And as on cue, Tony curls more into Natasha’s side when the lights dim.

Solely on instinct, she wraps her arm on his shoulder to pull him closer to her as he lets out a quiet, satisfied sigh. Their whole side glued together as they get comfortable in their position.

Bella’s narrating the opening scene when Natasha feels being watched. And she knows she is because her instincts tells her so, and her instincts are always ninety-eight percent correct. So, she looks around subtly to investigate.

Viola! It’s James.

The two super soldiers are across them, just on the other end of the U-shape couch. She and Tony are on the other end with Sam and Clint in the middle.

And yes, that’s James secretly throwing a glare at her and Tony. The engineer on the other hand seems to be oblivious, concentrating on the movie. Steve is also watching the screen along with everyone else that is not her or James.

Why is James so mad at Tony?

She meets his eyes because she won’t stand it that he’s trying to threaten the engineer. James have to go through her first. Or her through him. She’s opting for the latter.

When James is caught, he looks away immediately. He didn’t seem chastise that she scowls back at him. He looks away, but there’s that annoyance in his features as he turns his eyes back towards the screen.

She’s going to ask Tony later if James is threatening him. She’s not going to let James bully Tony in his own household. She doesn’t care what Steve says.

Appeased with her decision to talk to James later about his attitude towards their resident genius, she also begins to watch the movie and pulls Tony even closer into her side.

And just as expected, Tony made a running commentary about the movie. But halfway through he’s out like a light and is leaning peacefully into Natasha’s chest, where he snores slightly. She’d had a mission these last two days and he made sure to snatch the opportunity to defy his regulated sleeping schedule. Even Bruce couldn’t drag him out of his workshop.

So, it’s no surprise at all to have him exhausted and asleep at any given time of stillness.

She’s petting his hair softly, loving how it curls at the end. She also likes the low mewls he makes when she cards her fingers through his hair. She’ll say he sounds like a cat, but she won’t tell him that because he’s going to pout and will only make him more adorable.

How she loves these few moments of vulnerability from him. He looks so peaceful like this, younger than when he’s awake and ready to fight anything that he thought was wrong.

Somehow, having him like this in her arms kicks off a bit of her maternal instincts. It’s a part of her that she doesn’t show often, that she refuses to. Only in times like this when it’s dark, when she it’s just them.

She looks up to the screen again to where Bella’s on Edward’s back and jumping from tree to tree like a couple of idiots. That’s when she senses it again; the presence of someone watching her.

She turns and there’s James again: staring. He doesn’t glare this time. His feature is cross between incredulity and hurt. He also seems to have not notice her watching him because his eyes aren’t fix on her. No, those blue grey eyes are laser focus on Tony.

James whole face is a picture of longing. And she’s not sure why is that. Why does he keep looking at Tony like that? It doesn’t add up to the theory she has in her head.

**

**

Taking himself back into sanity has not been an easy journey, just ask his therapist and the amount of tea he has at 2am when he doesn’t want to go back to sleep because the nightmares continue to unravel — one after another — once he closes his eyes. Not that being awake helps him forget the faces of the people he killed, but he’s trying to humour himself.

And his conscience doesn’t take it too well when he wakes Steve up when he starts screaming in his sleep. They’ve decided to sleep in separate rooms before when Bucky’s just healing up. Now they sleep in the same room, but still on different beds.

He wants to think that it’s Steve’s presence that keeps most his nightmares away. It might be the whole soulmate thing. Only that, it’s still difficult for them both when it comes to waking Bucky from his nightmares. Five times had he managed to punch Steve in the face. Twice had he choked his lover. And there are a few more instances that he wants to forget.

His therapist tells him it’s normal. That he should not worry too much. That he’s doing his best. And that he’s getting better.

On the first few weeks he wanted to ask his therapist, Sasha, about the last one. He’s getting better. But when? When is he going to fully recover? When will he stop sleeping under the bed at times he doesn’t feel safe to sleep on his mattress even when he had checked the door four times to know that it is completely locked, with JARVIS assuring him that he is safe.

He screamed at her a few times on days he can’t help himself. Those were during the first few weeks of therapy. They were the toughest days. The longest days, too.

He had long accepted now that healing takes time. He knows it before but he doesn’t have the right presence of mind to learn to accept it. He’s still trying to do so on his bad days. And Christ, there will always be bad days.

The bad days are fewer now. He’s glad they are. But they are still there, there’s no way he’s going to forget, or that his demons will ever not remind him. At least it isn’t always going to be bad days even when he's constantly awake at the wee hours of the morning.

But these last weeks he’s been awake at some forsaken early hour for a different reason. The nightmares still come but with the help of therapy they’re scarcer than they were before.

The reason why he’s drinking tea at 2am this time around is because of Tony. Who knew such a harmless looking man could contest his nightmares at keeping him up. He wants to complain but he prefers this over his usual turmoil.

At the back of his head he can hear Sasha’s voice telling him to talk to someone. Communication is a key in fixing Bucky’s usual problems. And he should probably listen to that small voice.

It’s not like he hasn’t tried. God, for the last two weeks — blending into three now — he had tried to say something to Steve. He can tell that Steve knows he’s anxious about something. But well, Bucky’s constantly troubled about everything — thank you very much, HYDRA assholes — so Steve won’t push him to open up unless Bucky wants to.

He really needs to talk to Steve about it because it’s eating him up. It makes him feel guilty and he’s actually surprise there’s still room in him to feel guilty about something else other than taking the lives of those innocent people HYDRA had told him to eliminate.

Natasha already noticed him acting weird. And it’s going to take a spy of her calibre to find out his dirty little secret. And when she does, she’s going to tell Tony and Steve. Steve will be heartbroken. And Tony? Well, the engineer’s probably going to kick him out of his home.

Just two nights ago Natasha had warned him to stay away from Tony — and he’s trying isn’t he? — or else she’s going to do some very interesting things with his anatomy that would put HYDRA’s torture to shame. And he believes her. She had been his pupil before, one of the best he’d taught by far.

His mental health is once again in jeopardy all because of one single man. One beautiful, smart, kind man.

‘I’m starting to think I should keep a tracking device on you,’ a voice states, startling Bucky from his internal tumult.

He looks up and finds the very man that’s adding to his insomnia: Tony Stark.

The man yawns reluctantly and hides it at the back of his hand. He’s all sleepy eyes and bedhead hair, all soft and at ease. It makes Bucky want to reach out and touch his warm skin because he feels so cold all of the sudden. Tony looks very warm.

‘Why you up, Robocop?’ the engineer asks. He walks tiredly towards the coffee machine and turns it on. ‘Do you want some coffee?’

‘No,’ he answers and continues on staring at his now empty cup of tea.

The silence blankets around them with only the coffee machine breaking its wake. It’s awkward, he’s not sure if Tony notices or if he minds. But Bucky wants to fill it with something. A question that’s been bugging him since his last few days of observation, and especially after the team movie night.

Although, he isn’t in the right place to ask anything — especially not personal — he’s itching to do so. There’s no settling in peace unless he can voice out his query because it’s digging deep into his bones, his mind, his soul. He needs answers.

The problem is: he’s afraid to ask. Afraid to have his hunch confirm. Afraid of the truth that lies ahead.

Jesus Christ, his life is hard.

‘Are you okay?’ Tony inquires worriedly that brings Bucky out of his headspace.

‘What?’ he asks dumbly, confuse as to why all the sudden concern.

‘Shit!’ The engineer grabs something and dabs it softly on Bucky’s hand. On Bucky’s flesh hand that is, which at the moment is bleeding. ‘Oh shit!’

It’s not that painful, is what Bucky thinks as he sees the blood on the light grey breakfast bar from where he had broken the cup he was holding. He only glances it for a few seconds knowing that it will heal in a while. Super soldier serum benefits. His eyes fleet to Tony though, who is more awake now with how he’s panicking at the sight of Bucky’s blood.

‘I’m sorry for running your table,’ he mumbles weakly, feeling guilty for the bloody table and Tony’s concern for cleanliness.

‘What?’ Now, it’s Tony who’s in disbelief. ‘Are you seriously apologising for bleeding?’

Bucky looks away from those brown eyes, not wanting to see them morphing from disbelief to disgust or anger. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll clean it up.’

There’s a short pause. A short time where Bucky expects Tony to say sarcastically ‘Well, I certainly hope so.’ But instead, there’s a warm finger on his jaw making him face Tony.

And how on earth was Tony so close to him. He’s so near that Bucky can count the genius’ long lashes that frames those beautiful hazel eyes, now burning with concern. Why should Tony be concern about him? The genius should be disgusted to touch him; the skin of his parents' murderer.

‘It’s okay,’ Tony soothes, his other hand on Bucky’s good shoulder, touching Bucky instead of being mad because he's Tony. Kind and generous Tony who forgives, and sees everyone else's redeeming qualities rather than their flaws. ‘You shouldn’t apologise for something you can’t help.’

Bucky’s not sure anymore if this is still about the cup or something else. Something else like the death of Tony’s parents which he had a hand with.

‘But I should,’ he whispers weakly. ‘Right?’ He meets those conflicting brown eyes.

Tony removes his finger on Bucky’s face like he’s remembering that he’s not suppose to touch. Then the other hand goes as well — awkwardly.

And he suddenly misses Tony’s warmth.

‘Yes,’ he answers firmly. ‘But not forever.’ There’s resolve in his eyes now as if he’s trying to convince someone. Maybe Bucky? Maybe himself? Bucky doesn’t have the courage to ask.

Except. He has the audacity to ask, ‘So, you and Natasha, huh?’

‘What?’ Tony’s so surprise by the question he takes a step back away from Bucky like he’s been physically threatened by the simple query. ‘What do you mean me and Natasha?’ His eyes narrow, meaning he’s suspicious and about to be defensive.

Huh, when did he start to learn these little Tony quirks? Bucky tells himself that it’s because he’s a trained spy and old habits are hard to shake off. But also, a smaller part of him knows that that is a fucking huge lie because he’s been following and observing Tony these last two weeks after the whole incident .

‘Nothing,’ he replies. ‘Just wanna know since when? And how?’ He cleans the table top with the piece of cloth he’s been handed. The laceration is closing and looking like it's a week old.

Tony lets out an exasperated sigh and runs a hand over his face. ‘Where do these sudden questions come from?’ He’s got two hands on his hips now, sounding defensive as expected.

He shrugs. ‘Just curious.’ He turns on the faucet and rinses the cloth with blood, running the water red. He deliberately avoids meeting Tony’s eyes, playing nonchalant when he’s actually burning with curiosity as to Tony’s relationship with the other spy.

‘Curious of what, Barnes?’ Natasha asks, emerging from the shadows unexpectedly. She’s giving him that threatening look again. The one that could make a lesser person cower. And Bucky’s not immune to it either.

Bucky doesn’t cower though, even when he knows he should because only fools rush in. But he needs answers once and for all. He can’t take another second not knowing what exactly is the relationship between Natasha and Tony.

‘Curious as to when and how did you know that Stark is your soulmate,’ he replies, taking on those dangerous green eyes.

Tony ungracefully chokes on his coffee. And within a flash Natasha’s there beside the genius to help him out, rubbing a sympathetic hand on his back as he wheezes air back into his wind pipes.

She’s so careful with the engineer; Bucky can see that. And Tony’s calm with her; Bucky’s jealous of that.

He looks away, afraid he’ll break something else with how much annoyed he is with the current predicament. Because why is he jealous? He shouldn’t be jealous. He has Steve, whom he needs to talk to, or else he’ll go crazy with this insane secret he’s been hiding for two weeks now.

He can probably keep his mouth shut for a longer amount of time. But that won’t do great with his mental health, which is one of his top priorities right now.

Besides, it’s getting harder and harder to hide his secret with Tony around, all kind and generous and soft and beautiful, and everything Bucky should not crave for. He shouldn’t because he has Steve. And he needs to mend his relationship with Steve.

Steve who is his soulmate. Steve whom he was willing to die for — had died for. Steve who’s willing to die for him, and go through hell and back. Steve whom he loves so much.

And Tony whom he loves almost just the same.

His gone crazy, he thinks, if he’s reached this insane conclusion. He loves Tony? It can’t be. Right? He can’t. He shouldn’t because he loves Steve. He’s bonded to Steve. And he doesn’t know Tony like he knows Steve.

Right?

But he does know Tony. Or is getting to know him.

Tony who would choose to save someone else over himself. Tony’s who’s always showing off to mask his insecurities. Tony who keeps all the Iron Man drawing he receives from his fans. Tony who makes time to go to children’s hospital and secretly pay off the bills of those who can’t. Tony who’s not flawless but tries to make amends when he can.

So, maybe he does know Tony. A little.

Also, he already knows Tony is kind, generous, smart, snarky, brave and gorgeous. And when he laughs — truly laughs, not like the ones he does for show— it’s small but deep and hearty like nothing in the world had ever been wrong. It’s beautiful, just like the man himself. Bucky wants to hear Tony laugh some more.

There’s so much more about the genius that he wants to uncover. And he wants, too. Very much.

So, yes, he’s fucked.

[ridiculousn3sswrites]

Christmas Eve - Pretend Pt. 2

*Loki x Reader

*Summary: Reader and Loki begin their fake relationship for the holidays.

*Warnings: None, I think. Let me know if I missed anything.

Part One

Day One || Day Two || Day Three || Day Four || Day Five || Day Six || Day Seven || Day Eight || Day Nine || Day Ten || Day Eleven || Day Twelve

Your family’s house wasn’t too far from the Tower, so you and Loki had even less time to go over your stories. Loki was driving, the holiday traffic combined with regular New York traffic making things even more slow going, which wasn’t helping your racing heart at all. You were bouncing your leg, thinking of all of the ways this could go wrong. When you did this with Bucky and Clint, they knew everything because of years of close friendship. You never had to do the whole ‘let’s make sure you actually know the things you should know about me if we’re in a relationship’ thing with them. This entire thing was nerve wracking for you, and you were convinced you were going to be the one to blow your cover.

“Considering the fact that you’re a spy, you seem overly nervous about this entire thing,” Loki commented, looking over at you. You had no idea how he was so calm about this. Right, it’s because if he gets caught in the lie he doesn’t actually have to face any consequences.

“If my mom finds out this is fake, then she’s gonna tell everyone and all of a sudden it becomes a race for everyone in my family to find me a date,” you explained. After the ‘break up’ with Bucky, you managed to convince your mom to not try to set you up with anyone, but it had been nearly a year and she or someone else in your family was definitely going to try to find someone for you soon. “I’m an adult, I really don’t need my mom’s help finding a date.”

“So, your parents liked Bucky?” Loki asked.

“Yeah, they were head over heels for him. They were iffy about him because they knew he was Steve’s friend since childhood and they were thinking about the age difference,” you replied. “But my mom liked him because of like the old-fashioned gentleman stuff that he holds on to. Well, at least he held onto it in front of my family.”

“And you thought that bringing someone who’s over a millennium old was better?” Loki asked. You rolled your eyes before giving a small laugh.

“You’re the one who offered. Plus, it’s not like my parents would immediately know that you’re over a millennium old. Hell, I didn’t even know that until you told me yesterday,” you replied. “You’re trying to get my mind off of the whole thing, aren’t you?”

“That depends, is it working?” Loki asked, looking over at you with a little smile. You nodded, giving him a small smile of your own.

“Yeah, I’d say it’s working,” you told him. Loki reached over and turned on the radio, Christmas music washing over the car. You immediately recognized the song, feeling a small sense of happiness spreading through you. Loki was about to change the station, but you swatted his hand away from the sound system.

“What’d you do that for?” Loki asked, pulling his hand back.

“I like this song. C’mon, you should know this as my boyfriend,” you teased. Loki laughed, easing back into his driving as you hummed along with the song. Your anxiety was starting to calm down, and you were now convinced that you could survive one night and one full day with your family. You didn’t know how Loki would be around your family, but you were sure that his princely training would help him seem like the perfect replacement for Bucky.

When you finally got to your parent’s house, the sun had already set. Loki grabbed your overnight bags from the back of the car, carrying them as you led the way up the driveway. “Alright, showtime,” you told Loki as you knocked on the door. After a minute, the door opened to reveal your brother and niece.

“Hey! Mom, (Y/n)’s here and she brought someone,” your brother called over his shoulder before turning back to you. “Come in, mom and dad are making dinner. I’m Alex, (y/n)’s brother.” With that, your brother held out his hand for Loki to shake.

“I’m Loki, (y/n)’s boyfriend,” Loki told him.

“Isabelle, you’ve been quiet,” you said, kneeling down so you were eye-level with your niece. “Aren’t you gonna say hi?”

Your niece came up to you and gave you a hug before turning bashful once more as she looked up to Loki. “Hi,” she said before going back to hide behind your brother.

“Hello there, little one,” Loki said, using a tone you’d never heard him use before. It clicked that it was his ‘dealing with little kids’ voice, and you had to say that it was endearing. You straightened back up, turning to look between your brother and Loki.

“Alright, should we head in then?”

You went to put your bags in your old room, leaving Loki to interact with your brother’s family. You weren’t too worried about them, Isabelle was pretty quiet and Alex and his wife were definitely too polite to question Loki about him actually being your boyfriend or not. When you finally got back downstairs, you saw Loki sitting on the couch with Isabelle, her showing him something while he seemed completely invested in whatever she was showing.

Before you could fully react to the scene in front of you, your attention was drawn away by your mother calling your name and going to hug you. “Hey, mom,” you laughed as you hugged her back.

“And who’s the guy sitting next to Isabelle?” your mom asked, keeping her voice down.

“That’s my boyfriend, Loki,” you told her. Almost immediately your mom’s face lit up with a bright smile.

“That’s great! I just wish you would’ve told us sooner,” your mom said before turning to face the living room. “Dinner’s ready!”

“Okay, dinner went by fine,” you said as you and Loki went to settle into your room for the night. You were surprised that your parents were letting you stay in the same room considering your ‘relationship’ was only a month old. You’d been banking on your parents putting Loki into your brother’s old room while your brother and his family were staying in the guest room. “The parents seemed to like you and no one really questioned anything. Isabelle seemed to take to you, and she’s pretty shy normally.”

“She’s a sweetheart,” Loki said with a smile. He started going through his bag as you laid back on your bed, looking up at the ceiling. “So, we just have to go through one more day and then you’re free of me.”

You sat up, seeing Loki pulling on a t-shirt. You caught a brief glimpse of his lean torso, unable to stop the heat that was currently rising in your face. When you looked back up to Loki’s face, you saw his little amused smirk and knew that you’d been caught. “Who says I’m free of you? We still work together,” you joked instead, wanting to draw attention away from yourself.

“That we do,” Loki said, going to lay on the bed beside you. “You know, your family is actually very welcoming. You had me thinking that this would be some sort of interrogation when you were preparing me for this.”

“They mean well, but sometimes they can be a bit much. I just didn’t want you to get caught off guard if they were a bit much. I think they went easy on you just because they think the wounds from my ‘breakup’ with Bucky are still kinda fresh,” you explained as well as you could. You honestly didn’t know why your family had been so open to you randomly bringing Loki and saying he was your boyfriend. “Isabelle’s going to wake us up really early, we should probably go to sleep if we don’t want to be dead when she does.”

“Alright. I will see you in the morning then,” Loki said. With that, both of you got underneath the blankets and Loki turned out the light. You laid in the dark, staring at the wall and trying to process everything. You were here, in bed with Loki, who was currently pretending to be your boyfriend. He got along great with your family, your niece seemed to adore him already, and you were just seeing a different side to him that you hadn’t gotten the chance to see before. You couldn’t let yourself read too deep into this, you’d only be Loki’s ‘girlfriend’ for one more day, and then everything would go back to how it was before. You don’t know how long you laid there, but eventually sleep came for you.

[vivasharkart]

Cardinal Attraction (Part 2 of 2)

Part 1

Pairing: Steve/Tony

Rating: T, probably

Soulmate AU: Every person is born wearing a compass around their neck that points to wherever their soulmate is. A twist on The Avengers. I found a rough draft for this fic that I’d written THREE YEARS AGO and I needed a reason to procrastinate, so here’s the finished version! Enjoy :)

Word count: 1,959

A/N: I didn’t think Part 2 was going to take this long, but I hope it was worth the wait! So grateful for all the love the first part of this fic received, thank you so much <3

Steve

Steve couldn’t sleep.

After a full hour of tossing and turning, he gave up and decided to head down to the gym to blow off some steam. He’d been having a lot of troubled thoughts lately. His mind was a jumbled mix of past and future, with no in-between. It had been several weeks since he’d “woken up”, but even his enhanced brainpower wasn’t enough for him to get his head around this particular situation just yet. His therapist called it PTSD. At least that was one down on the extensive list of things he didn’t know. He had too many questions and not enough answers, and it was surprisingly infuriating.

The newly formed compass nestled comfortably under his shirt was probably the only thing keeping Steve grounded to sanity. The scientists at S.H.I.E.L.D. were particularly intrigued about it, especially since it was the most notable change that had occurred to his body during his sleep, but no one was sure how or why it had happened. But whatever the cause, it was helping Steve cope with the 21st century in a way that nothing else could- it gave him a sense of purpose. Right now, somewhere, somebody’s compass was pointing straight at him. It was almost as if his time under the ice was meant to be- kind of like how Sleeping Beauty needed to wait for her prince. Steve let out a wry chuckle. Grimm’s Fairy Tales references? He really needed to get in touch with the times.

But as much as his compass gave him some form of solace, it wasn’t like it didn’t raise an entirely new set of worries. What kind of person would his soulmate be? Were they as anxious to find him as he was? How was he going to find them in the first place when he knew he was constantly being watched per Fury’s orders? He’d briefly considered asking S.H.I.E.L.D. for help, what with all the state-of-the-art technology and resources they had at their disposal, but he had his reservations about getting a federal organization so intimately involved in his private life. He was already under enough scrutiny as it is, so why give them another excuse? Plus, it was kind of embarrassing.

And most importantly, why now? How was he supposed to keep up with his modern soulmate when he still had trouble operating a smartphone? How would his soulmate react when they realized he was… what he was? For one, he was supposed to be 94 years old this year. Nothing about him was natural. What if they couldn’t handle it? The word freak suddenly rang inside his head, loud and clear, a disembodied voice from a long time ago that had stuck with him through the ice, forever haunting.

Would it be better off if he never found them at all?

SLAM.

Steve blinked. He’d been so lost inside his own head that he hadn’t realized how much force he’d been putting into his punches. The last blow had taken the sandbag clean off its chain and sent it flying toward the other side of the room. He let out a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding, and was just about to set up a second sandbag when he heard footsteps enter the empty gym.

“Trouble sleeping?”

Steve looked over to find Nick Fury at the doorway. “I slept for 70 years, I think I’ve had my fill.” His eyes landed on the thick paper file he was holding. “You here with a mission, sir?”

“I am.”

“Trying to get me back in the world?”

“Trying to save it,” Nick corrected, handing him the file. Cautiously, Steve flipped it open, his gaze immediately drawn to a photo of a very familiar blue cube. His heart sank, the face of the Red Skull momentarily flashing before his eyes. “Hydra’s secret weapon,” he remembered.

“Howard Stark fished that out of the ocean when he was looking for you. He thought what we think; the Tesseract could be the key to unlimited sustainable energy. That's something the world sorely needs, but in a recent turn of events, it got stolen.”

“Who took it from you?”

“He’s called Loki. He’s not from around here. There’s a lot we’ll have to bring you up to speed on if you’re in. The world has gotten even stranger than you already know.”

You don’t say, Steve thought, absentmindedly fingering his compass. It still felt strangely new to him. “At this point, I doubt anything would surprise me.”

Nick cocked his head almost amusedly. “Ten bucks says you’re wrong,” he said, before making his way out of the gym. Steve stood there silently for a moment before turning his attention back to the file in his hands.

For whatever reason, the world needed Captain America again. His soulmate would have to wait.

Tony

“Stark, we have a situation.”

Nick Fury’s voice rang out from Tony’s Starkphone the moment he reached his hotel room. “You always have a situation,” he replied a little breathlessly, unlocking the door.

Nick ignored his remark. “We need you to come in.”

“Thought you sent Spangles to take care of the guy?”

“Loki’s stronger than we thought. Cap’s barely holding up.”

Tony let out a dramatic sigh. “Must I always swoop in to save the day?”

He could almost hear Fury rolling his eyes on the other end. “Sending coordinates now.”

“You’re lucky I’m even in Germany,” Tony grumbled as the call disconnected. Pulling off his tie and jacket, he swiftly activated the Mark VI and clambered into the suit. The Iron Man armor whirred to life around him, familiar holograms blinking into existence before his eyes, as Tony pulled up Fury’s coordinates and set a course for Stuttgart. A quick search loaded multiple videos that confirmed Fury’s words: they really had a situation. A major wardrobe situation. Seriously, what was with those antlers?

Guess it’s my job to bring some real life to the party. “J.A.R.V.I.S., back me up with a little… thrill, will you?”

“As you wish, sir.”

Tony launched himself into the air, and wasted no time flying to Stuttgart. The quinjet hovering above Cap and Loki’s ongoing battle came into view just as J.A.R.V.I.S. finished hacking into the S.H.I.E.L.D. PA system. He glimpsed Natasha behind the wheel, a look of mild confusion on her face, as AC/DC’s Shoot to Thrill pierced the thick tension of the small public square.

Showtime.

“Agent Romanoff, you miss me?”

Tony dived down, blasting Loki with a powerful shot from both his repulsors, knocking him backwards into the stone steps. Executing a flawless landing- god, he hoped someone caught that on camera- Tony brought out all his guns, training them on the dazed figure propped up on the ground.

“Make your move, reindeer games.”

Tony fully expected Loki to retaliate somehow, and was already suspiciously eyeing the weird glowing stick thing lying a few feet away, but was completely taken aback to see him slowly raise both hands into the air. Well, that was easy.

“Good move.”

He sensed movement on his left, and out of the corner of his eye saw Captain America making his way over. He looked a little battered, which was surprising considering how quickly Loki had surrendered. Maybe the hero was a little too out of time to live up to his legend. But, as peculiar as the circumstances were, Steve Rogers was his childhood hero, and after all these years of assuming he was dead, it was Tony’s first time meeting him in person. Needless to say, a part of him was kind of jittery in excitement. But only a bit.

Captain America braced his shield and gave him a slight nod. “Mr. Stark.”

Tony’s insides squirmed slightly. Be cool, be cool, I need to be cool.

Luckily, being cool was second nature to Tony Stark.

“Captain,” he replied smoothly, retracting his helmet, and turned to face Steve Rogers for the first time.

As soon as brown eyes met blue, Tony felt hot- like, really hot. As in, his-compass-felt-like-it-was-burning-a-hole-through-his-chest kind of hot. Gasping, he clutched at his chest, and out of the corner of his eye, it looked like Captain America was suddenly in pain as well, because he’d dropped his shield and had collapsed to the ground.

“J.A.R.V.I.S, what’s happening?”

“Running diagnostics now, sir.”

“No time for diagnostics, disengage breastplate now!”

“What’s going on down there?” Natasha’s voice blared from the copter speakers. Loki chose that moment to disappear into thin air, but for once nothing mattered more to Tony than the searing hot pain in his chest. J.A.R.V.I.S. came through and his chest plate flew clean off the rest of his suit just as Steve tore through the fabric of his shirt. The sight that met them both was something neither of them were prepared for, and they both gaped. Their compasses were glowing, burning.

Changing color.

It felt like the world was at a standstill, holding its breath for what came next. For a single moment, there was no one else in the infinite continuum of time and space but Steve Rogers and Tony Stark, as pure gold bled into the silver of their compasses and the fire slowly subsided. Everything felt hazy and yet so clear as they looked into each other’s eyes, the feeling of something hollow and missing finally clicking into place. For a while, they could only stare at each other, struggling to make sense of this seemingly impossible situation. Tony was the first to break the silence.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Epilogue

“Daaad, my compass is spinning again!”

Tony looked up from his Starkpad to see his son, Peter, rush into the dining room, compass in hand. Sure enough, the needle was whizzing around inside the silver pendulum, a sign that one’s soulmate had passed away. A sight that would usually be met with a solemn, tragic silence, except the Rogers-Stark family was getting a little too familiar with such occasions.

Steve strolled over, his eyebrows knitted in fatherly concern. “What is this, the 24th time?”

Tony took a sip of his coffee. “25th. That we know of.”

“And we still haven’t found the reason why?”

Tony shook his head. “I’ve looked into it and it’s not unprecedented. Cases of compasses spinning and then coming back to life- it’s uncommon, but it happens. You know, people whose hearts stop beating for a few minutes before doctors manage to revive them again… But Pete’s soulmate, whoever they are, is way past ridiculous at this point. Who has the kind of endurance to go through a near-death experience 25 times?”

“At this point, it’s like fate is messing with me,” Peter grumbled.

“I don’t know, son, fate works in mysterious ways.” Steve pat his son’s back.

“Who knows, maybe this time he’s actually dead.”

“DAD!” Peter yelled at the same time Steve let out a stern “Tony!” Tony held his hands up in defeat.

“Okay, okay, I’m just- oh, look, it’s working again. The magnetism is back on.”

Peter quickly brought his compass up to his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. “Dad, remind me why you can’t lend me one of your jets so I can go find this guy before they go and get themselves killed for good?”

“Absolutely not, you have school. Also, we have no idea what we’re dealing with here.”

“You flew twice around the world to find Papa!”

“That was after I finished school. Also, it didn’t work.”

“You finished school at 17,” Steve raised an eyebrow.

“Honey, let’s stick to the point here…”

Unbeknownst to the squabbling family, a couple hundred miles away, Wade Wilson let out a maniacal laugh as his lungs finished regenerating.

The end?