#avengers nick fury

[thewrittenpodcast]

Peter: Grandpa!

Tony: what where

May: you don't have-

Fury, wearing a knitted sweater and scarf: me

Fury: I'm grandpa fury

Tony:

May:

May: I'm not even going to ask how that happened

[intothestacks]

I was flipping through one of the new books I got for the library and I came across this:

Nick Fury canonically owns a guinea pig, y'all.

[thesuperheroesnetwork]

Texts From Superheroes

Facebook | Threads | Patreon | Instagram

[anxietyriddenbutterfly]

Rewatching Captain America: The Winter Soldier just makes me think about how smart Steve is. I feel like he is often overshadowed by other Avengers, such as Bruce, Tony and Nat.

In WS, he has many moments that portray the way his brain thinks. My personal favorites are the elevator scene and when him and Nat arrive at the old army camp. He knows those agents are coming after him due to slight body language, such as a hand on a gun or a couple of beads of sweat while in the elevator. At the old army base, he is able to find the room with Zola with little information. He uses his knowledge on army regulations to find the old SHIELD office. From there, he is just able to notice little things that are off, such as the shelves that reveal the computer.

Sorry for the lil rant, but I just think Steve deserves more intellectual credit than the fandom gives him.

[incorrectquotesmcu]

Fury: Who’s the most annoying one of the Avengers?

Natasha: Everyone’s equally annoying.

Fury: [raises an eyebrow]

Natasha: ... Tony.

[literaryavenger]

Happy Birthday

Summary: It's your birthday and the only person who doesn't seem to be excited about it is you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death. Angst. Fluff. Language probably. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: This story was completely self-indulgent, but I hope someone out there likes it!

Masterlist

You’ve always been very reluctant to celebrate your birthday.

You haven’t had a birthday party since you were 12. The following year your mom died a couple of days before and neither you nor your family were in the mood to celebrate anything.

It wasn’t by any means unexpected, she had been sick for a few years, but it still hit you hard.

You were the youngest and were far too young when she first got sick to really understand everything going on.

You were 8 and all you really remember is watching your mom get more and more sick until eventually there was nothing more the doctors could do.

Her death hit you hard and you closed yourself off, never talking about it or even crying after the day of her funeral. To this day you’ve still never cried, in front of others or even by yourself.

You started exercising to channel all your energy, refusing to do anything more like the therapy your family suggested. 

When you were 15 you discovered SHIELD and decided you wanted to help others, so you signed up for the SHIELD Academy, working your hardest and pushing yourself to your very limit.

You ended up being not only the youngest cadet ever, but the youngest to actually graduate and then the youngest recruit at SHIELD at only 16 years old.

Natasha was very impressed when she heard about you and took a liking to you, convincing Fury to make you part of her team during her missions and teaching you everything she knows.

That’s how you ended up in the Avengers Initiative, not that you felt you didn’t deserve it since you know how hard you worked and everything you gave up to work towards this achievement. 

The team themselves were initially skeptical since you were barely 18 during the battle of New York, but they were quickly proven wrong when they saw how well you handled yourself against the Chitauri. 

You were devastated when SHIELD fell, but carried on as an Avenger, battling Ultron and then moving to the Compound with the team.

You met the actual Bucky for the first time when you were 22, during the whole Civil War thing with Baron Zemo. Like Natasha, you were on Tony’s team, fighting mostly Pietro, but the conflict eventually ended. 

It took Tony some time to get over the whole “Bucky killing his parents while brainwashed” thing, but, as he likes to say, he can’t call himself a genius without admitting that Bucky didn’t have much of a choice. 

Thanks to Tony’s help Shuri was able to find a solution to Bucky’s brainwashing faster than she would’ve alone, meaning Bucky didn’t have to go back into cryo and was pretty quickly cleared to join the team, about a year after the airport battle in Leipzig.

You were warmly accepted by everybody and, the more the team grew the more you felt at home with these people.

And now you wish you could burn down the whole compound because, somehow, Tony convinced you to have a birthday party for the first time in 13 years because, in his words, 'you only turn 25 once'.

Good news is you managed to make him limit the guest list to the team and other people close to you like Maria Hill and Fury. Bad news is you’re still gonna be the center of attention, which you hate.

You couldn’t stop Tony from making everyone dress up for the party, and you couldn’t stop the team from getting you gifts even though you insisted all you wanted was everyone together and to have fun with them since for the longest time nobody ever even knew when your birthday was. 

What you didn’t realize was that the only person more worried than you about your gifts was Bucky.

Since he joined the team the two of you have gotten close, starting with his first training with the team where he very loudly told Steve about his disbelief that someone as young and small as you could actually be an asset to the team.

You quickly put him in his place by taking him down after less than two minutes of sparring, taking full advantage of his underestimating you because he “didn’t want to hurt a pretty little thing like you.”

Admittedly he was impressed and wasn’t shy about letting you know that, while the rest of the team snickered at his initial shock when you pinned him down.

You became friends after that, not as close as you’d like but friends nonetheless.

If you were honest with yourself you’ve been harboring a little crush on the supersoldier, but he’s never shown any interest so you resigned yourself to just being his friend.

Something that you did come to treasure, though, is your and Bucky’s late night talks.

It started with you walking in on him in the kitchen on a late night where you couldn’t sleep, nothing new to you, but the two of you barely talked other than acknowledging each other.

You took a bottle of water and left.

A couple of days later you ran into him again and you stood there in silence while you made yourself a cup of tea and then left for your room.

A few days later again he was just sitting there and said nothing as you made your tea, except this time you put a cup in front of him and silently took a seat next to him at the counter.

Two nights later when you arrived at the kitchen he was already there with a cup of tea in front of him and one in front of the seat next to him.

You didn’t want to assume it was for you, but you took a chance when you noticed it was the cup you always used, a blue mug with Stitch on it that says “Let’s get weird”. Your favorite in fact.

You hesitantly sat down next to him and, without you having to ask or without even looking at you, he told you that the nights you stay up late because you can’t sleep you tend to be more quiet during the team dinners and while you hang out afterwards.

You didn’t say anything in return and just sat there, trying not to overthink how much he seemed to watch you.

But the more nights you spent like that, the more you two talked and you gathered quickly that Bucky is a very observant person, nothing more.

You loved the time you spent together after dark where you’d talk about everything and anything, but come morning it was almost as if it never happened, which you came to accept.

It weirdly made the nights you spent talking even more special, which was almost every night.

But back to the present, you’re currently getting ready with Natasha and Wanda, who know much more than you about hair and makeup and are always happy to help you out with getting ready for Stark parties. 

You put on the black cocktail dress with rhinestones all over the corset and a slit down the left side, then the three of you make your way to the party room and you take a deep breath before entering.

Everyone is already there, all dressed up in fancy clothes as they all shout “Happy Birthday”.

You laugh and say hi to everybody while they all take turns hugging you, there’s not too many people but everyone important to you is there.

Even Laura and Clint’s kids are there, which you consider a second family at this point, since Laura always did treat you like a daughter.

You hate to admit that it's a nice party.

Knowing you, everyone makes an effort to not put you too much at the center of attention and you just go around talking to your friends like every other party.

Eventually time comes for the cake and, the moment you kind of dreaded, opening the gifts.

Since it's the first birthday you allowed the team to celebrate everyone decided to go all in for your gifts, which you picked up on from the very first gift you open.

Pietro got you a first edition of “The Picture Of Dorian Gray” which is your all time favorite book, Wanda and Maria got you a leather jacket and an amazing pair of boots that you knew were expensive because you were all out shopping together when you came across them.

Steve got you a gold heart-shaped locker with a picture of the team inside it, Natasha got you a charm bracelet with a little charm to represent everyone on the team, and Sam got you a cute necklace with your birth stone on it.

When you open Fury’s gift you start laughing since it's a gun, a SIG SAUER P226 to be precise, which is very Fury.

“It was my first gun when I joined SHIELD.” He says with a smile and you smile back, knowing how much thought he put into this gift.

You open Clint’s gift next, a bow and arrow that he already taught you how to use, and Laura got you a pair of diamond earrings.

Your heart melts when you open Lila, Cooper and Nathaniel’s gifts, respectively a friendship bracelet, an Avengers action figure of yourself and a Stitch plushie.

The three of them hug you tightly as you say thank you and now you only have two gifts left, Tony’s and Bucky’s, and they’re both little boxes. 

You open Tony’s next, thinking it’s some fancy necklace or earring but you frown when you see a car key.

“Is this the key to your car?” you ask Tony, knowing full well you’re holding the key to an Audi R8 Spyder, the car Tony’s let you borrow so many times you’re now wondering if he’s gifting you his spare set of keys.

“No.” He says casually “It’s the key to your car.”

You’re even more confused and simply stare at him with your mouth gaped, not really processing the information.

“Y-you… You got me a car?!” You almost yell out of shock and everyone else starts laughing at your antics when you start basically jumping up and down and hugging Tony, squealing like a little girl.

“Well, come on, let’s go see it!” Tony says enthusiastically after you’ve calmed down, and you get up, just as enthusiastic, but are stopped by Steve’s voice.

“Wait, wait. You have one gift left.” He says, picking up the small box and giving it to you. “It’s from Bucky.”

You were so pumped up by the car, you almost forgot about it and completely miss the mischievous look Steve gives Bucky and the murderous glare Bucky gives back.

You also miss Bucky starting to protest before you open his gift, but he instantly shuts up when he sees your face falling the second you open it.

It’s a small necklace with a blue rose in it, it really looks like something you’d give a little girl more than a 25 year old woman.

You look at it for a minute, running your finger on it before you raise your head and look at Bucky.

The whole room goes silent as they all watch you worriedly, everyone noticing immediately that tears are streaming down your face.

Nobody understands what’s happening and nobody knows how to react or what to do, it’s like they’re all frozen by the sight of you being vulnerable for the first time ever. 

Meanwhile Bucky’s heart is beating so loud he’s sure everyone around him can hear it, and he feels himself starting to panic at the thought of having ruined your birthday with that stupid gift.

Everybody else got you expensive gifts and all he did was get you a small, cheap necklace that reminded him of a story you briefly talked about once on one of your late night talks about a necklace you had as a kid.

He saw it at the mall while looking for a gift for you, remembering the sweet smile you had on your face when you mentioned it and the fleeting sad look he thought he saw when you told him you lost it when you were 12.

He was really proud of himself for that gift, but the more he saw the other gifts you got the more he regretted his choice, especially after Tony gave you a fucking car.

And now you were crying, not saying anything while just looking at him.

He doesn’t know what to expect from you at the moment, nobody does, he thinks you might yell, throw his gift back at him, tell him how much you hate it and him.

But you surprise everyone by throwing your arms around Bucky’s neck, hugging him tightly while crying into his shoulder.

You honestly forgot telling Bucky about that story and certainly didn’t expect him to remember it, especially since you always got the feeling that he didn’t care about your talks as much as you.

You just assumed that come morning he deleted everything you told him to make room for more important things, and you didn’t blame him.

But he didn’t.

What you didn’t tell him about the necklace is that your mom gave it to you because blue roses were her favorite, you had that necklace since you were born but you somehow lost it the day of her funeral.

That day you lost the two most important things in your life and cried yourself to sleep, and that was the last time you allowed yourself to be weak and cry.

Until today.

Bucky hesitantly wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back hoping to get you to calm down. He looks around at the rest of the team, panicking a little and not knowing what to do.

Everyone else is as clueless as he is, never having seen you in such a state before.

Bucky starts apologizing, his heart breaking at the sight of you crying, and he feels horrible that it’s because of him.

You shake your head quickly and pull away a little to look at him, wanting to reassure him you’re not sad or angry but incredibly happy, but words refuse to come. You take a deep breath to calm yourself and finally manage to speak.

“Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.” It’s quiet, but it’s something, and it’s enough to make Bucky let out a breath of relief at knowing you don’t hate him or his gift.

He brings you back in for another tight hug, almost forgetting about everyone else in the room as you hug him back without hesitation.

You’re honestly not even embarrassed at crying, all you care about at the moment is Bucky, his arms around you while he lets you bury your face in his neck, like you’ve been wanting to do for years now.

“Happy birthday, doll.” He whispers in your ear and, for the first time in 13 years, you really feel like it is.

[florida3exclamationpoints]

Steve (and friends) + text posts pt. 15/?

Bonus:

[spideyson-stuff]

Clint: When you'r gonna officially adopt Peter, Strak?

Tony: What?

Clint: I wanna be an uncle

Tony: Okay in first place, who said you would be the uncle if I had a child? and in second place... I'M NOT ADOPTING PETER!

Clint: That's not fair! I let you be my children's uncle when you first met them! 😡

Tony: What!? when?- I someday?- YOU'R AVOIDING THE MAIN TOPIC!

Nat: But hey Tony, I wanna be an aunt too

Tony: ???? WT-

Nick: You're putting off this adoption too long, Stark

Tony: Furry, stay out of this, even if I really adopted Peter you wouldn't be his uncle

Steve: Does this apply to me too? :(

Tony: YES

Sam: Me?

Tony: Absolutely

Bucky: I'm not even gonna ask

Tony: Smart

Peter: I won't call any of you uncle

Everyone: 😟

Peter: Except Scott

Scott: :D

Peter: Uncle Scott is cool

Scott 😁

[ironspidersblog]

Tony, on one hour of non consecutive sleep, four cups of coffee, no food in two days, fresh out of building a new bot , wear a oil stained band-t, sweatpants and his sunglasses showing up to a meeting with fury: yeah sorry I’m late, I’m only here cause Steve dragged me

Steve: come on I told you not to mention that part

[tldrthor]

Not even death (1) | bucky barnes

// Summary: It's been 70 years of being his widow, and the world had moved on. But she never would. Commiserating on their wedding anniversary, (y/n) Barnes is attacked by an assailant as she visits her husband's grave. There's something just a little too familiar about the whole thing.

// warnings: ws!bucky barnes x avenger!wife!reader, lots of grief, canon-typical violence, angst, f!reader, platonic!steve being a cutie patootie

// word count: 4.5k

enjoyed? please like/reblog! you can find my masterlist here <3

part two | part three

The third best day of her life was her wedding day. 

“Would you switch that off?” She motioned toward the radio in the corner, its incessant drone filling the room. The news blared on—reports of the war, the draft, the daily toll of lives lost. She didn’t need to hear any more. She had already heard it in her head a thousand times, played over and over. Her fiancé was a sergeant, for God’s sake. And she, herself, was getting ready to be shipped off to Europe as a nurse, just another casualty of a war that seemed endless.

Her mother bustled around her, fingers moving with practiced precision as she pinned back her daughter’s hair, spraying the air with the sharp scent of hairspray. She worked on her like a sculptor carving stone, the final touch of a masterpiece. Every movement was deliberate, as if her daughter’s future rested entirely on the perfection of her appearance.

“Sweetheart,” her mother’s voice was soft but laced with concern, “are you sure about this?” The question came between bursts of the toxic spray. “James is a wonderful boy, but this is so rushed. Maybe you should wait until after the war. After everything settles down.”

The girl sitting in front of the mirror understood the hesitation, the fear that gripped her mother’s heart. She saw it in the tightness of her shoulders, in the way her hands shook ever so slightly as she worked. Her mother didn’t understand, couldn’t. How could she? How could anyone? The love she shared with Bucky wasn’t something that could be explained in simple words or the framework of time. It wasn’t about waiting until after the war — it was about the now. It was about carving a life together, even if that life was destined to be brief. It was about this moment. And if the war did its worst, she needed to know the world would remember their love.

“Maybe there won’t be an after,” she whispered, almost to herself, the weight of the words heavier than she intended.

Her mother paused, the hairspray can still in her hand, but didn’t turn to look at her. Instead, she leaned in, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s head, the warmth of the gesture lingering long after she pulled away. She returned to her task, the silence between them thick with unsaid things. Her mother didn’t have to say anything. She knew the question was unanswerable, the truth too raw to put into words.

The memory had been burning its way into her thoughts since the moment she woke up that morning. Over the years, the pain had dulled – god knows it had been long enough. But on days like today it felt like the pain all came flooding back – like she hadn’t moved forward from that day, and all the tragedy that followed, at all. It was her second least favourite day of the year: their wedding anniversary.

“Penny for your thoughts?” A familiar voice interrupted her self-pity from the doorway of her office. He knew what day it was. And she was certain he was here to make sure she wasn’t spiralling into the familiar, unending depths of grief she had been known to inhabit.

She mustered a small smile, relief creeping over her features as he walked in and sat in the chair opposite her. “Just reminiscing.” She typed quickly, finishing the email she absolutely had to send now, before giving her full attention to the Captain.

“Seventy-four years, huh? Hard to believe.” Steve leant back in the chair, his hands clasped neatly over his lap. She could feel him examining her every move, looking for signs of weakness no doubt. He continued; “How’re you holding up?”

She sighed. “I’m doing okay, Steve. Going to visit his grave later… if you want to join?” 

“I wouldn’t want to impose–”

She shook her head at him, cutting him off with a gentle firmness. “Nonsense, Stevie. You’re never imposing. We’ll go to the cemetery and then grab some italian from that place in Brooklyn?” 

He nodded, his features softening. He knew that her insistence was not her being kind – it was an unspoken way of asking him not to leave her alone. “Italian it is.”

A sharp knock on the door interrupted their moment. The agent standing in the doorway straightened, a look of respect on his face. “Sorry to disturb you, Commander. Fury’s requesting your presence in his office.”

Her gaze flicked up from the papers in front of her, her expression shifting from the kind, friendly one that Steve was used to, to the calm professionalism of the former head of SHIELD and current Commander. “I’ll be right there, Agent. Thank you.” 

She stood up from her desk, the movement deliberate, Steve following her lead. “Sorry, Steve. Duty calls.” Her tone softened slightly, but still carried the weight of someone used to giving orders.

“Right you are, Commander.” He smirked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

She rolled her eyes at him but couldn’t suppress a small, fond smile. Her heels clicked down the hall, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet office. Left behind in the silence, Steve reached for the photo frame on her desk, his fingers brushing over the glass as he studied the picture. 

Both of his best friends, looking the happiest they’d ever been. Him, too, standing to the right of Bucky. He still considered it one of the greatest honours of his life, to have been Bucky’s best man -- to stand at the altar as his two best friends committing their lives to one another.

Back when each other was all they had. They always had an extra inhaler on hand for him, just in case, and secret codewords for when he wasn’t feeling well, so he didn’t have to explain his chronic health conditions to anyone else. When she wasn’t commander, she was just (y/n), and when she wasn’t visiting Bucky’s grave instead of celebrating an anniversary they should’ve spent old and grey together.

Back when they were just kids, ready to be shipped off to war. 

The church was full, but it might as well have been empty. It was just the two of them at that moment. Just Bucky and her, standing at the altar in front of their family and friends, yet none of that mattered. Everything else — the wedding guests, the flowers, the music — faded away, leaving only the man in front of her.

Her hands were trembling, but she didn’t think he noticed. She tried to keep her mind away from the next steps, from the inevitable. They had no idea what would happen when they were shipped off to the other side of the world. Neither of them did. This moment was all they had.

Bucky stood tall in his uniform, as handsome as she remembered from their first meeting, when he had looked at her with those wide brown eyes and a grin that made her stomach flip. His strong hands gripped hers tightly, like he was afraid to let go. His jaw was tight, his shoulders squared — he was trying to hold it together, just like she was.

The minister spoke, but her attention was fixed on him. The slight furrow of his brow, the way his mouth turned down in concentration, the way he steadied his breath before every word. She wanted to reach out, pull him into her arms, and whisper that everything would be fine. But she couldn’t lie to him. She couldn’t promise that.

"Do you, James Buchanan Barnes, take (y/n) to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or worse, in war and in peace, as long as you both shall live?" The minister's voice was deep, but it seemed so far away.

Bucky’s grip tightened on her hand. "I do."

The weight of that simple phrase hung in the air between them, pulling at the corners of her heart. The words were not just an affirmation of love, but a promise — one that would either be honoured in the years to come, or one that would be broken by the unforgiving hands of fate.

The minister turned to her, his eyes kind, yet somber. She swallowed hard, forcing the lump in her throat down as her hands shook. "And do you, (y/n), take James Buchanan Barnes to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or worse, in war and in peace, as long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

The minister smiled softly, as though understanding what they were really asking of each other — what they were really saying. This wasn’t just a wedding. It was a promise, forged in the fires of uncertainty, that they would try to carry their love into whatever came next, whether that was days, months, or years.

Bucky squeezed her hands once, then brought them up to his lips, kissing the back of her hand gently. She saw the soft smile on his lips, the one that always made her feel like the luckiest woman in the world. She smiled back, even though the pit in her stomach had only deepened.

"By the power vested in me by the State of New York," the minister continued, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Her heart thudded in her chest as Bucky gently cupped her face in his hands. His eyes searched hers for just a moment, full of a hundred unspoken words. Then, he leaned down, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that tasted like heaven and heartbreak. He kissed her like he was memorising the feel of her, like he wasn’t sure when he’d be able to do it again.

Got held up in a meeting, I’ll meet you at the cemetery? The text blinked on her phone screen. She sighed, slipping her coat on and locking her office door. She hadn’t really wanted to go by herself, but she didn’t mind. She knew he would keep his word.

She stepped into the cool New York air, letting the crisp bite of it settle in her lungs. She could have taken a cab, but today, she decided to walk. The weather, the perfect chill she had once shared with Bucky, should have brought some comfort. They had always loved walking on days like this – finishing with a steaming hot cup of cocoa from Marcels’ street cart. She could almost taste it, even though Marcel and his cart were long gone. Today, it was different. The cold air was suffocating, like a reminder that she would never have that again.

She got there quicker than she intended to, having realised she was marching there. The squeak of the poorly-maintained gate interrupted the eerie silence of the cemetery, even the wind barely stirring the trees. Not even the noise of the traffic dared to encroach on this hallowed ground, as if the outside world was shut out.

Her feet moved on their own, guided by the kind of muscle memory that only comes from years of repetition. She didn’t need to think about where she was going—she had walked these paths so many times, the route was etched into her mind. She had come here hundreds, maybe thousands, of times.

The last slivers of sunlight were fading, casting long, stretching shadows over the gravestones, highlighting the one she was here to see. 

Sgt. James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes Gave his tomorrow for our today. 1917 - 1945

Looking at the familiar stone, she felt the weight of the world pressing into her shoulders. She didn’t cry here these days – she couldn’t bring the tears to fall. It felt more like her heart was being plunged into an ice bath and held until it screamed for air.

“Hi, handsome.” She smiled, touching the top of the stone, ever so lightly. She had noticed, the past few times she had come, that there was a little dip in the stone where she had touched the stone every time she came to visit for the last seventy years. Another reminder of how long she had been alone. 

She remembered him at the altar, standing tall as her father walked her down the aisle. He had been a strapping young man, full of strength and kindness, with an unshakable need to protect those around him. She had adored his Sergeant’s uniform — the way it spoke of everything he had endured, his unwavering dedication, and the spirit that had always driven him. It was that same uniform he wore when he became her husband, in that perfect moment when she thought maybe everything would be okay.

And then, last year, she had seen it again — his uniform — displayed at the Smithsonian exhibition. The sight of it, the memory of him in it, hit her like a punch to the gut. She had barely managed to hold it together long enough to step away, stumbling to the bathroom where she had collapsed in front of the sink, choking back bile.

A sudden shift caught her attention – the crunch of a footstep. There hadn’t been anyone else here. Her instincts kicked in before her mind could process the danger. Her hand dropped to her side where her concealed knife rested, fingers brushing the hilt as she turned on her heel. 

A shadow at the edge of the cemetery. The figure stepped into the rapidly dimming light, revealing a man clad in dark tactical gear, his face obscured by a mask and goggles. A glinting silver arm by his side. It wasn’t the kind of thing you wore to visit a graveyard.

For a moment, as they locked eyes, there was nothing but silence. She thought, just for a second, that there was something familiar about him. There was a stiff hesitance in his actions – his face turned briefly from her to the gravestone she was visiting. It wasn’t the right time to think about it, and she wasn’t one to say no to an advantage in a fight.

In one fluid motion, she drew her blade and without missing a beat, she moved. She sprinted towards him, adrenaline surging in her veins, and threw herself in a roll to the side. The assailant’s reaction was immediate – his metal arm shot out to intercept, but she was quicker. She ducked low and spun around, coming up on his left side and launching a series of precise strikes.

Her knife aimed for his throat, but he blocked it effortlessly with his metal arm, the screech of metal against metal echoing in the still air.

The man moved quickly, the metal arm slashing towards her with terrifying speed. She dodged to the side, her own body moving like a blur but narrowly avoiding the strike. She retaliated immediately, aiming a series of rapid strikes at his torso, testing his defences once again.

His reactions were sharp, almost inhumanly so. Faster than anyone she had ever seen. She managed to keep pace with his dizzying movements, moving with the fluidity of someone who had done this dance many times before.

She threw another jab, hitting his side. It did nothing – she hadn’t managed to land an effective attack yet, and she was one of the best in SHIELD at hand-to-hand. There was something not right here, something she was missing… 

Taking advantage of her failed hit, his boot connected with her chest, sending her crashing against one of the gravestones. She hit the ground hard, but didn’t stay there – she rolled with the momentum, popping back to her feet smoothly, eyes never leaving her opponent.

He lunged forward, slashing upwards with his knife. She screamed as it made contact with her cheekbone, her hand moving up to cover her new wound and wincing at the claret staining it as she pulled away. She tried to ready herself for his next move, but with the distraction, he was too fast. His strikes were brutal, calculating, each one designed to incapacitate. She was no stranger to close combat but she struggled to match him blow for blow, as the fight dragged on.

She began to feel the weight of her exhaustion. The assailant was relentless, she would give him that. Like a force of nature. She couldn’t help but feel more and more that the odds were stacking against her. As she tired, the attacker only seemed to get quicker and stronger.

With one miscalculation, she found herself pinned to the ground, his boot pressing into her chest, the cold metal of his arm looming over her. She desperately gasped for breath, struggling beneath his weight as she began to feel her ribs crack – the harder she struggled, the tighter his grip seemed to get.

“Get off!” She shouted, desperate to break free. Her words only seemed to fuel his determination. Maybe this is it, she thought. She took a glance at Bucky’s grave – maybe they would finally be together again. 

As her struggles became weaker and weaker, a haze reached around the edge of her vision. A red, white and blue blur collided with the attacker’s side, sending him stumbling back off of her chest.

“HEY!” Steve’s voice was like the heralding of an angel. She gasped in a breath of relief as the pressure on her chest finally released.

She scrambled up, her heart still hammering – her chest in immeasurable pain. Steve stood between her and the assailant as she felt like she was hacking up half a lung and at least part of her heart. 

“You good?” He called back to her, his eyes unmoving from the man in front of them. The man who previously had been ready to kill her, but now seemed to be showing hesitation once again. She could only cough and splutter in return, but it meant she was breathing at least.

The moment of hesitation passed. 

With a growl, the attacker lunged again, attacking Steve with a fury that made her blood run cold. But Steve was ready. He met the assault with precision, using his shield to parry each blow, his movements fluid and practiced.

The attacker didn’t manage to get through Steve’s defences in the way he had hers, no longer able to use physical strength as an advantage. With a sickening crack, Steve’s shield slammed into the side of his head.

It was a move that would’ve knocked an ordinary man out cold, at the very least. But their assailant simply shook his head, as if trying to clear it. His eyes seemed to lock onto her for a brief moment, and then, in the blink of an eye, he darted back, disappearing into the shadows.

Steve and her both froze, staring at the empty space where he had been.

“What the hell was that?” She muttered, trying desperately to catch her breath. Her legs shook from the adrenaline, and Steve finally tore his eyes away to look at his friend. 

His jaw tightened as he scanned the area. “I don’t know, I’ve never seen anyone move like that.” He turned to her, “Are you hurt?”

“Cut to the face, at least a couple of broken ribs.” She wheezed. “Who the hell was that, and what did they want from me? Why did he run?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, but it definitely wasn’t a random thug. That was a highly trained killer. And whoever he is or whatever he works for, they clearly want you gone.”

She shook her head. “If they wanted me gone, why wouldn’t they have just positioned a sniper above the cemetery. This felt personal, Steve.”

He grimaced. There was something deeply troubling about the whole affair. Attacking a widow at her husband’s grave, that wasn’t a coincidence, it was a message. Nothing was sacred, and nowhere is safe.

“We need to go.” He put his arms around her, helping her along as she continued to splutter and cough. She threw one last look back at Bucky’s grave, her own blood splashed across it. Something about the imagery made her shudder.

“You’re not going back to your own apartment, (y/n). You can stay with me.” Steve’s voice was firm, with a strong undercurrent of concern – it was clear that he wasn’t asking, just telling. Normally, she would protect, argue that she needed her space. But after the terrifying encounter in the cemetery, the weight of everything – the fight, the fear, the haunting glimpse of the man sent to kill her – maybe it was for the best that she wasn’t alone.

She tilted her head, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I’m technically your superior, Captain. You can’t give me orders.” The teasing edge was there, but it was tired, the last remnants of her usual strength finally slipping away.

Steve chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. But there was something in his eyes that told her he wasn’t going to let her play that game tonight.

“Unfortunately, Commander,” he replied, his tone playful but insistent. “I promised my best friend I would look after his wife for the rest of my days before he left for Europe. And that trumps any kind of hierarchy said wife finds herself at the top of.”

She smirked, recalling the days before – before everything went wrong, before there was a permanent hole in her life that took the shape of Bucky Barnes. Before the war. Before everything.

Her smile faltered just slightly as she shifted on the couch, wincing from the pain in her chest. Steve was quick to step closer, his hands hovering near her, ready to help.

“You’re sure you don’t need a doctor?” He asked, his voice quieter now, more like the Steve she had once known – concerned and kind, but with an edge of the stoic man who had seen too much and lost too many.

She shook her head, closing her eyes for a moment. “I’ve broken my ribs a thousand times, Stevie. They can’t do anything but pain management.”

There was no bitterness in her voice, just a simple fact. Her body had carried the marks of war for longer than she cared to count – bruises, scars and the slow, agonising wear of decades spent in battle. They say time heals all wounds, but she had enough marks – physical and mental – to prove that wrong.

He sat down beside her, his frown deepening. “What about the cut on your face?” He asked gently, his eyes scanning the healing wound on her cheek. “Looks like it’s going to scar.”

She reached up slowly, brushing her fingers over the cut, the jagged line that would probably never fade. “Just add it to the list, I guess.” she said quietly. Her voice was light, but there was a hardness in it. She was weary after fighting for so long – fighting to survive, fighting for what’s right, fighting to honour a love that was taken from her before it had a chance to bloom.

Seventy years. And yet, in some ways, she still felt like that woman in the secondhand dress marrying Sergeant Barnes, praying that her husband would come back to her. 

He didn’t. But she had kept going regardless.

A quiet silence filled the room as Steve stood up, moving around his small Brooklyn apartment. The soft clinking of dishes and the rhythmic sounds of him making tea or coffee or whatever else he could find to busy his hands was soothing, almost like a lullaby. 

She sank back into the cushions, closing her eyes as the pain in her side and the exhaustion in her bones began to catch up with her. She had barely slept the night before, and today had been a nightmare in every definition of the word — a fight with some kind of enhanced being, a near-death experience, and now, Steve was here, keeping her from falling into a darkness she wasn’t sure she could crawl out of alone.

“I’m exhausted,” she murmured, her voice catching slightly. She didn’t need to pretend in front of Steve, not after everything they’d been through.

Steve moved quickly to her side, adjusting the blanket around her, his eyes never leaving her face. He didn’t need to say anything. He simply nodded, a small, concerned smile on his lips as he tucked the blanket around her tighter.

“I’ll stay up,” he said softly, his voice steady and comforting. “Keep an eye out. Sweet dreams, (y/n).”

“Thanks, Stevie.” she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut as the exhaustion overwhelmed her.

Her dreams, as they always did, were filled with memories of Bucky. The sound of his laugh, the way he held her hand on their wedding day, the way his arms had felt around her when they said goodbye. And then, the last time she had seen him — the last moment, frozen in time, before everything changed.

“Guess this is it, huh?” His voice was low, filled with both sorrow and resolve.

“So much for a honeymoon.” She smiled, sadly, her fingers brushing over the collar of his uniform. “I just wish I could come with you.”

Bucky let out a heavy sigh, his hands still resting on her face, his thumbs gently stroking her cheeks. “You will. In your own way. You’re going to make a difference, (y/n). You’re gonna help save lives.” His voice cracked slightly as he spoke, and she felt it deep in her bones.

"And you��ll be back," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself. "You’ll come back to me."

Bucky gave a faint smile, though it was bittersweet. "I’m coming back," he promised, but the weight of it hung between them. "I swear it."

All she could focus on was the warmth of his touch, the strength of his hand holding hers, the slight tremble in his fingertips that betrayed the fear he wasn’t letting anyone see. The two of them stood there, hand in hand, while the world around them celebrated a union that felt both like the beginning of something beautiful and the end of something they couldn’t protect from the violence of war.

I promised, didn't I! Thank you to everyone who voted on my WIP poll, it was super informative!

Reminder you can join my taglist via the google form here <3 Special thank you to @ironwinnerwonderland who specifically requested Bucky Barnes on the form!

PART TWO HERE

-> Masterlist

[incorrect-marvel-because-why-not]

Tony: Why do you act like we’re three year olds? Fury, exasperated: WHY?!? Fury points at Clint: YOU TRIED TO HIJACK A CAR! Fury points at Steve: YOU NEARLY JUMPED 20 FEET OFF A CAR PARK! Fury points at Tony: AND YOU ATE MULTIPLE DRIED LEAVES AND ROCKS OFF THE GROUND! Fury: AND YOU ASK ME WHY????

[waltermis]

Drive

*Natasha, Y/N and the team talking about driving with Peter to Fury*

Y/N: So... Peter got his learner's permit this week and some of us on the team have been taking turns driving with him...

*flashback to Steve, Bucky, Sam and Peter*

Steve: One of the really standard rules of the road is we want to keep a safe distance between us and the car in front of it.

Bucky *mildly panicking*: *through gritted teeth* That is not safe, right there. Not safe.

Sam: *puts on another seatbelt over his other seatbelt*

*flash to Natasha and Peter*

Natasha: Okay, merge.

Peter: Wait- I--

Natasha: Merge.

Peter: Na-

Natasha: Merge. Merge! Merge! Merge! Merge! Merge! Merge!

Peter and Natasha: FJJFIEAFJKEJFI AEJFKDXIEAKJFFKX

*flash to Y/N, Clint and Peter*

Clint: This navigation system's all messed up. It thinks we're in a park.

Y/N: OH MY GOD! IT IS A PARK!!

Clint: AWAY FROM THE KIDS!!!!!

Y/N: AIM FOR THE LAKE!

Peter *shrieking*: OH MY GOD!!!!

*flash to present time*

*Pepper and Tony coming back from a jog*

Tony *arriving at the compound's driveway*: I win!!!

Pepper: It wasn't a race...

Tony: That's what a loser would sa--

*Tony gets run over*

*Peter in the car*

Peter: Oh my-. What was that? Was that a person?

Tony: I'm good!

Pepper: Tony!

Peter: Mr. Stark?!

Tony: I'm good! I'm good! You're getting better, kid! Whoo!

*Natasha and Y/N looking from the window*

Y/N: We're all gonna die...

[haydenthewitch]

I FORGOT HOW MUCH OF A BANGER AVENGERS (2012) IS. lIKE HOLY SHIT IT IS SO GOOD. MARVEL REALY HAS GONE DOWN. THE QUIPS, THE SHAKSPERIAN/AGARDIAN DIALOG, THE TESSERACT, THE FIGHT SCENES, HOLY SHIT THE FIGHT SCENES DID I MENTION THE FIGHT SCENES????? LIKE FIVE MINUTES IN WE GET "Untill such time as the world ends, we will continue as if it intends to keep spinning." WHAT THE FUCK, FURY?????

I DIDN'T NOTICE HOW LITTLE QUIPS WE HAVE IN MODERN MARVEL. THIS MOVIE HAS SO MANY QUIPS I LOVE IT SO MUCH

ILY CLASSIC MARVEL I'M SORRY I EVER FORGOT HOW AMAZING YOU ARE

[textsfromsuperheroes]

Texts From Superheroes

Facebook | Threads | Patreon | Instagram

[incorrectquotesmcu]

Fury: I can’t tell any of the Avengers apart half the time because I don’t go by height, age, or appearance. I go by who’s a pain in my ass. Which makes them all identical.

Tony: Hey! Fuck you!

Fury: Except for Stark.

Tony: Thank you.

Fury: He’s the fucking worst of them all.

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Medusa

Summary: When Fury calls you into his office, you expected to be in trouble not to be offered a spot on the team with the Avengers. Unfortunately, you have a secret you want no one to know about.

Relationships: Avenger x reader (platonic)

Warnings: implied sexual assault, reader is a mutant (similar powers to Mystic), memory loss, mention of death, protective Avengers, fluff, small amount of angst

Medusa tattoo is often interpreted as representing strength, power, and female empowerment. More specifically, some people get a medusa tattoo to indicate that they are a survivor of sexual violence and to symbolize their own empowerment

You thought you were getting fired when Fury called you into his office. You racked your brain for any possibilities that could have led you here. All your mission reports were completed and handed in. You passed your certifications with flying colors. Maybe that dipshit agent reported you. What was his name? Tom? His hand drifted a little too low for your liking during training, and you punched him in the dick. Maria didn’t even bat an eye as he rolled around the ground in pain. “Why do you look nervous?” The director asked.

“Am I in trouble, sir?” You questioned. He folded his hands and rested them on his desk.

“Did you do something that would warrant you being in trouble?” You shrugged. The man rolled his one good eye and pointed to the chair. You sat down, a knot still formed in your stomach. “The Avengers have a mission, and I think your skill sets would be helpful.” He handed you a mission report. You opened it and glanced at it. There wasn’t a lot to go on. The Avengers were looking to get into a HYDRA base that was continuing experiments on misguided individuals. The problem was they needed to find out where the facility was located.

“In 3 days, there will be a party in DC where a few suspected HYDRA personnel will be there,” Fury explained. You looked at the man, still confused about why he believed you were the right agent for the job. “The team has someone in custody invited to the party.” There it was. You closed the file and handed it back to him.

“Do they know?” The question was burning on your tongue since he said you would be joining the team.

“Do you think I’d tell them?” The man looked offended. He was the only one that knew of the scars that covered your body. “No, they only know of your skills as an agent.”

“Nick,” you sighed, sinking deeper into the chair. You were the only one that called him that. He took on a father role when he found you. Instead of turning you in, he adopted you.

“Jr,” he rounded his desk to stand before you. “I wouldn’t have suggested you if you weren’t ready.” You looked at him. His one good eye softened slightly.

“When do I leave?” A smile formed on the man’s usually stoic face.

“As soon as possible. Maria is waiting for you at the compound.” You smiled; at least you would have a familiar face there. “You got this kid.”

*

“There she is!” Maria was quick to rush over to you and bring you into a hug. You saw Natasha walk over to you behind her shoulder. “The big man finally let you join the big leagues, uh, jr?” You rolled your eyes. Maria always liked to tease that you were Fury’s only soft spot. Hell, you were her soft spot, too. Once the agent released you from the bone-crushing hug, you faced the Black Widow.

“Natasha,” she offered her hand, and you shook it. Of course, you knew who she was. “Maria has not stopped talking about you.” You glanced at the agent, but she shrugged her shoulders. “She called you, Jr.,” the Black Widow slowly said. Are your parents agents?” Maria snorted but covered it up with a cough.

“Technically, yes,” you said. The redhead gave you a look for you to continue. “The director adopted me when I was 14.” Natasha’s eyes widened, and her head snapped to look at Maria. The agent cringed slightly. You knew the duo were dancing around being in a relationship- many SHIELD agents talked about it. “It was need to know,” you said. “He didn’t want certain people to find out.” It was understandable. The man had a long list of enemies. Maria put her arm around your shoulders.

“The team is waiting to meet you,” she said. “Are you ready to show them what you can do?” You weren’t 100% sure if you were.

*

“This is the agent the pirate wanted us to bring onto the team,” Tony said as you entered the meeting room. There was an empty seat next to Wanda; you took it with a smile. “She’s a kid.”

“So is Peter, and you let him on the team,” Maria defended.

“I’d be carefully talking about Fury,” Natasha smirked. “You are looking at his kid.” The billionaire’s jaw dropped. You shrugged.

“I didn’t know he had it in him to reproduce,” the comment got him a quick smack to the back of the head by Rhodey. You cringed even though he adopted you, the idea- Nope. Not happening.

“Ignore him,” Steve said. “We are excited to have you on the team.” You smiled at the blonde super-solider.

“Director Fury was unclear on what you could provide for this mission,” Vision said. You made eye contact with Maria, who winked at you. “Can you provide some insight?”

“I’m enhanced,” you said. “I spent time with Charles Xavier to get it under control.”

“Can you show us what you can do?” Sam questioned. You smiled and nodded.

“Maria, pick one of them,” the agent smirked and pointed to Steve. Sighing, you stood up and walked over to the super soldier. He rolled back in his chair away from the table. All you did was hold out your hand. “It won’t hurt.”

“Will it hurt you?” he countered. His statement made you frown. That was different. No one ever asked how your abilities affected you. You shook your head. It never hurt, but it left you disoriented. Steve hesitated but connected his hand with yours. Nothing happened, and you dropped his hand. Then you changed.

You remembered a time before Fury sent you off to Xavier. Every time you grabbed onto someone’s hand, you changed. Now, you can control it and only use your powers when you want to.

No matter how many times you did this, you found it fascinating. You saw the world differently each time. Now, with the super soldier senses, the world seemed sharper. Steve was taller and stronger than you. It felt strange being him.

“Holy fuck.”

“Language,” you said in Steve’s voice. The color was drained from the man’s face as he saw himself in front of him. You looked at Maria with a slight nod, and she knew what you were asking for. She’s seen your powers with Fury.

“Jr, what program did Steve enter to receive the serum?”

“Project Rebirth. I was the only recipient of the serum developed by Abraham Erskine,” you answered. That was an easy question. An answer was easily found in his file or at the museum.

“What are we looking at here?” Rhodey asked. You looked back at Steve.

“Ask me something personal,” you spoke in your voice. He stared at you before his eyes landed on the soldier across from him.

“The fight where I first met Bucky, why did I pick a fight with them?” You smiled.

“They demanded a fee for crossing Tenth Avenue,” you wink before changing back. You watched as your skin bubbled, and then it stopped. “The director said you have someone in custody attending a party you need information from. I can get you that information.” Watching people learn what you could do was always interesting—a range of emotions passed through their faces- amazement, fear, worry.

“How long does it last?” Natasha questioned. She was looking at you with fear even though she masked it well.

“As long as I want it to,” you sat back down. “In 15 minutes, once I stop using it, all your thoughts, memories, and secrets leave my head.” You saw everyone relax.

“How did you get this ability?” You shrugged at Wanda’s question.

“I don’t know,” you traced the groves off the wood. “Not even the director knows. I guess it will forever be a mystery.”

Living and training with the Avengers challenged you. They pushed you harder in training, and you felt yourself growing stronger every day. However, they challenged you to be more social. You were an introvert by nature, afraid to gain the trust of those around you. Your mind might not remember what you were put through, but your body told a different story. Scars covered your body, which was then covered with tattoos.

The team was used to seeing you train in a long-sleeve shirt, never a tank top or sports bra like Natasha or Wanda. No matter how much sweat dripped down your back, you stayed in the long-sleeve shirt. It only came off when you were in the shower or the comfort of your room. They never asked, never forced you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with. They provided you with an extra bottle of water or a hug if you wanted one.

Early on, you also learned they were highly protective over you since you were the youngest full-time member. Even at the HYDRA party, that went well, and you retrieved the information they fused over you. To your surprise, they kept you on the team and didn’t send you back to SHIELD with Fury’s permission. You were enjoying your time with them, your secrets trapped away until they came tumbling out.

*

You thought you were in the clear. The rest of the team watched a movie, and you told everyone you were too tired. However, you left your room and headed to the training area. All you wanted to do was work up a sweat and then go to bed. So you punched at the sandbag, only wearing a sports bra and sweatpants—the rock music you played in your ears blocked out the world around you. You focused on how your knuckles ached at each punch and the beating of your heart behind your ribs. You loved training. It was a simple reminder that you were alive.

It happens on instinct. You felt a hand on your shoulder and grabbed it, flipping whoever it was over and onto their back. The culprit was Sam. You pulled your headphones out of your ears and heard the pained groan the man let out. “Fuck, Sam, you can’t sneak up on me.” You knelt in front of him. “What hurts? Do you want me to get Bruce? How many fingers am I holding up?” He groaned again.

“The only thing that hurts is my pride,” he sat up and rubbed the back of his head. “I like your tattoos. I didn’t know you had any.” You sat down as your hand shook. You were so caught up on making sure he was okay that you forgot about the little clothes you were wearing. He saw them, all of them. Did he know what they meant? “Hey, jr, are you okay? You’re shaking.” You snapped out of it.

“I feel like I should be asking you that question,” you chuckled. He rolled his eyes and reassured you that he was fine. “But wait, aren’t you guys watching a movie? Why are you here?”

“We are watching a movie, and I suggested we have ice cream,” which was no surprise. The world’s mightiest heroes had the worst diets and the craziest sweet tooth. “I drew the short stick of finding you to see if you want any.” Sam stood up and rubbed his butt. “And my ass took one for the team.” You took his outstretched hand he offered you and helped you up. “So, do you want ice cream?”

“No, I’m good.” You wanted to get some air. He frowned.

“Are you sure? You never say no to ice cream. I’m not upset about what happened. We can keep it between us. Please.” You hated how easily it was for him to make you smile.

“I’m okay, I promise,” you began to unwrap your hands. “Have a good night, Sam.” You threw the tap in the trash can on your way out.

*

“Did she want any?” Natasha looked away from her bowl to see Sam without you. He shook his head. “The more of us!” Tony cheered. Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Did you know Jr. has tattoos?” She heard Maria drop her spoon in the bowl, and the agent looked confused.

“How many?” Bucky asked. Sam was constructing his ice cream bowl. He topped it with whipped cream before he answered.

“Her entire right arm is covered. I couldn’t figure out what they were, but on her back was a portrait of Medusa.” Natasha’s stomach dropped. The ice cream she was eating no longer tasted sweet. It was bitter, and it made her stomach turn.

“Medusa?” Wanda questioned. “Are you sure?” Sam chuckled.

“Kind of hard to miss. It’s massive with all the snakes and shit. A little creepy if you ask me.”

“Why would she get a Medusa tattoo?” Rhodey asked. But Natasha knew. It seemed Wanda and Maria knew as well. The three girls dropped their bowls on the nearest surface and left the group. Each one ignored the shots of their names.

“FRIDAY, where is Jr?”

*

Your feet skimmed the water below. The cold summer air caused goosebumps to form on your arm. You had no reason to wear a jacket once you left the training area. If Sam knew everyone else was going to find out. “Hey, Jr,” Maria’s voice made you smile. “Can we join you?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. Maria sat on your right and Wanda on your left. Natasha took the empty spot next to Maria. “They guys didn’t want to join you on a midnight walk.” You tried to joke.

“They are eating their weight in ice cream,” you heard the smile in Natasha’s voice. “I also don’t think they know what it means.” Right. The tattoo of Medusa is on your back, and her Roman story is detailed on your arm. Medusa was a devoted follower of Minerva. She left offerings and offerings to the goddess but was never acknowledged by her. Then, another god wanted her attention: Neptune. The god rapped Medusa in Minerva’s temple, and in revenge, the goddess turned Medusa’s beautiful head of hair into snakes.

“I don’t remember getting the tattoos,” you broke the silence. “I don’t remember much of my life before Nick found me.”

“He found you when you were 14, right?” Wanda questioned. You nodded.

“He says I had them when he found me,” you shivered and soon felt the jacket Maria was wearing around your shoulders. “He was in Ukraine, outside of Lviv, for a mission or something, when he found me in a field surrounded by dead bodies,” you played with the sleeves of the jacket. “We think they are the ones that hurt me. Nick took me in without hesitation. He saved my life,” you sighed, placing your head on Wanda’s shoulder. “I kept them hidden, not wanting people to question or bring attention to them.”

“You don’t have to hide them around us,” Maria said, slowly taking your hand in hers. “You can if you want, but we will never judge or hurt you like they did.”

“I could help you find answers if you ever want to know the truth,” Honestly, the truth scared you. You were already so broken. What if it broke you even more? “You are not broken,” Wanda whispered. It was hard for you to believe that.

“Sometimes I get flashes of what happened to me. Mostly in the form of nightmares. I’m not sure what’s worse than my body knows something bad happened to me, but my mind doesn’t remember it.”

“I think that you had to endure the pain, which is the worst,” Natasha spoke softly. You looked at the Black Widow, who was staring at the water. It was rare that her voice was that soft.

“Do you ever wonder why it was you?” you asked her. You watched her body shake as she exhaled. Maria placed her hand on Natasha’s thigh.

“All the time, but you’ll go mad thinking about the what ifs,” she glanced at you with a smile. “I’ve learned rather painfully that hiding away what happened or pretending it never happened hurts more in the long run.” The redhead placed her hand on top of Maria’s. “You aren’t broken, weak, or lesser because of what they did to you. You are stronger because you are still here despite all of it.” It was like she was telling you these things but reminding herself. You nodded and found yourself looking back at the water. The world was unfair, cruel, and twisted. These women, whom you grew to admire, knew the pain you experienced in some way and the story behind the tattoos that covered your body. How many others experienced it as well?

Hurried footsteps forced you to stand up and turn around. It was Bucky, and you were surprised by the force that he had hugged you, almost sending you into the water. Bucky was never known for his physical affection. He showed that he cared in much smaller ways, with a small smile and a cup of hot chocolate when you had nightmares. Even in training, he ensured your stance was correct and that you were training at your best. Now you weren’t sure if you could go a day without a hug from him. He was warm and strong, and you felt safe. “Do you know who did it?” Your body tensed.

“They are dead, Buck.”

“Good,” he kissed the top of your head. “I’d go Winter Solider on their asses for you, doll.” You laughed and shook your head. “Also, sorry about this.” Before you could question his meaning, he picked you up and threw you into the water. You breached the surface with a gasp.

“What the-”

“Cannonball,” you heard Tony yell. It was the only warning you got as the billionaire ran down the dock and jumped into the water. The splash wet those on the edge, and you heard Natasha yell at him. He resurfaced and shook the water.

“I am sorry, darling,” you watched Vision pick up Wanda.

“Vis, no! No!” But it was useless. The android dropped her into the water next. You laughed, the sound echoing into the night. Bucky smiled, gave you a salute, and jumped in. One by one, the team entered the water by either being thrown in or jumping themselves.

A massive water fight broke out, and FRIDAY brightened the surrounding area so everyone could see. You weren’t sure how long the team was in the water, but you were the last one floating on your back. “Hey, Jr,” you looked at Natasha. A towel was wrapped around her shoulders. “We are having smores. Are you coming?”

“Yeah,” you swam over to the dock and pulled yourself up. Natasha put her arm around you.

“I’m proud of you.” You smiled.

“I’m proud of you too.” Yes, the world was evil, cruel, and dark, but your family made it a little brighter.