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http-shield · 3 months ago

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whatever you say, old man- bucky barnes

~ bucky barnes x fem!reader ~tags/cw: post endgame but no one is dead and life is good, think 2012 Avengers fandom where clint is in the vents yeah that is where I'm at, established friendships, pining, yearning, bucky is not used to new age dating rituals, explicit language, sexual tension ~ wc: 2.6k ~ not proofread

You: Hey, are we still on for tonight? Rita’s at 7?

Him: ye

“So you’re telling me this is normal?” Bucky’s tone is judgemental as he quickly reads over the words on your screen.

You nod, wordlessly confirming that situatuonships are a staple part of the modern dating scene.

Bucky’s brows furrow, eyes flicking from the lack of effort text message to your face as you lean over the bed, phone gripped between expertly manicured fingers. He blinks once, twice, as if taking the time to formulate a response that will rebuke your earlier confirmation without hurting your feelings. This is new for him. A habit he has only recently picked up upon developing his friendship with you. He usually isn't as careful with his words, not caring enough about the recipient's opinion or emotional well-being to warrant enough time and consideration when responding, but with you. It was another ball game entirely. Bucky doesn't want to hurt your feelings, to see you frown because of something he has said; in fact, he wants the opposite. To see you smile and laugh and blush because of him. For you to want to talk to him about anything and everything, share thoughts about your day and how things make you feel. Bucky wants to know everything that happens in that pretty little brain of yours, even if he doesn't necessarily agree with it. Normally he would take the time to sugarcoat his words, sweeten his tone and make it easy for you to swallow but this is a situation where he couldn't, doesn't, want to mince his words.

“There is no world where that is normal.” He stares at you, expression bored and a little annoyed. At you? Never. At the man on the other side of the phone? Incredibly so.

You groan at his very true statement and pull away, slipping the phone into the pocket of your cargos as you turn towards your open closet.

He’s right. You know he is.

There is nothing remotely normal about two grown adults being in a relationship that is defined by the amount of time the other left the first one on read, or how much emotional vulnerability there could be put on the table before the other got too scared and ran. There is nothing normal about being in your late twenties and having a grown man introduce you to his friends as a 'buddy’ despite having an entire draw dedicated to you in his apartment but you can’t admit that, refuse to admit that you know its wrong and desperate and frankly, demeaning. If you can't own up to your own patheticness, how are you supposed to admit it to the man you are secretly interested in. There would be nothing more humiliating than confessing that the only reason you are with and putting up with bullshit efforts from this other guy is to hopefully distract yourself from the desperate need you feel for Bucky. This new guy is mediocre at worst yet attainable at best and that is something you will live with until your crush on the super soldier is dead and gone and you can finally focus on something other than him.

——

You had spoken with Natasha about Bucky last night, her voice a soothing purr over the phone as she encouraged you to disclose your concerns about pushing the boundaries on your friendship with the super soldier.

“The worst thing that can happen is he says no and then you both move on.” She croons, voice laced with comfort and reassurance.

“Wrong.” You shake your head despite being on a voice call. “The worst thing that can happen is he says no, I lose him as a friend and then I’m stuck pining after someone who wants nothing to do with me” You place another dish in the washer before continuing with your point. “Or I push him before he is ready, again losing him as a friend, and now I’m left with the guilt of possibly taking advantage of a war veteran.”

“You take advantage of Steve all the time, how is this any different?”

“I take advantage of Steve to get someone to carry in the groceries. I’m not trying to date Steve.”

Natasha huffs a laugh. “What if he is interested in you as well?”

Your hands stop scrubbing at the pan in the sink.

“I can find out.”

Heat fills your body, your stomach twists at the idea of having that information. It would put an end to the constant yearning you feel, but the thought of finding out he doesn’t like you that way, that he sees you as no more than a friend will destroy you, humiliate you beyond all logical reason and you would be forced to cut off the friendship out of pure self-preservation.

You shake your head again. “I’m good.” And return to scrubbing your pan. “I'll just wait out the crush and then move on.”

——

“This isn’t the 1940’s anymore.” You sigh and completely shift your attention from Bucky to the mess that is staring back at you.

Endless outfit options are strewn about the small closet but so far none of them have come together, just single shirts, skirts, and pants all muddled in a heap of black.

“I know it's not the 40s but I doubt relationships and dating have changed that much." Bucky grumbles from behind you, the bed creaking as he shifts.

Another sigh, this one long and exaggerated as you will the frustration to leave your body. You want to turn to him and explain that you know all this, and are very aware of the fact that nothing about your current predicament is what you want. You want to be wooed with flowers and preplanned dates and soft kisses on hands and longing looks but that’s not the reality of life anymore and having to be reminded of it is getting annoying and your heart is starting to ache at the lack of effort given to you by your current choice of dating partner.

“You know if I was taking..” Bucky starts but you quickly cut him off with a whine of his name.

“James, please.” You don’t turn to face your friend, afraid to even glance at him because you know you will crumble. “I need help picking out an outfit so help me or go back to your room.”

--------

“You know if I was taking…” You don’t let Bucky finish but, God did he want to. His name on your tongue was enough to shut him up, to send a flush rushing to his face in a way that no man his age should blush, but he can’t help it. There is something about the way his name falls from your lips that has his mind racing to thoughts that should not be there, should not appear when the picture of you enters his mind.

“You know if I was taking you on a date, you’d get flowers and chocolates and champagne and those little baby dolls you like” is what he wanted to say before you shut him up with an annoyed grumble.

His intention wasn’t to display how things were different back in his day but to indicate exactly what you’d be getting were you about to go on a date with him, to explain the reason why you should go on a date with him and not some loser who couldn’t even formulate a fully fleshed out text message. How if you were to drop that kid, and say yes to Bucky he would gather the moon on string for you, pick every flower in every field, find every single little Sonny Angel there is and give them to you each and every day for the rest of your life, you would never be sat wondering why he isn’t calling or responding, if you were even going out the next day, if he even liked you. Bucky would make his feelings for you so abundantly clear that even a blind man would be able to see the signs, but you are his best friend and best friends don’t feel that way about each other. It’s all platonic hugs and hair tussles, cheeky jabs at each other over coffee, shared trauma and secrets over whatever dinner you bring to his apartment and he yours. There will be no dates, or long hugs that turn into kisses that turn into you beneath him, whimpering his name as he makes you feel oh so good.

Fuck.

Bucky’s entire body is on fire, and he needs to stop thinking about the way you would feel wrapped around him, his mouth on yours, the taste of you sweet on his tongue.

“Okay, what about this?” you announce as you walk into the bedroom from the ensuite. “Too much?”

You stand in the doorway, dressed in plain jeans and a black shirt.

“Too much?” Bucky is confused. “This is the outfit you wore to breakfast this morning.”

He is right about this too. You had worn a very similar outfit this morning, but tonight isn’t a full-on date, a semi-date, where things shouldn’t be that fancy so why shouldn’t you recycle your outfits. Bucky stands from the bed, readying himself to dig through the mountain of clothes that had formed at the entrance to the bathroom. He crosses the small space and squats before the clothing, fingers expertly rifling through the material, quickly brushing over the lace of bras and panties, before finding purchase on a black dress he thinks he has seen you in before. It might have been the dress you wore to a funeral or press conference, either way, it was not alluring in the slightest, not that you weren’t stunning in everything you wore, hell you could come out wearing a garbage bag and Bucky would be in awe of your beauty. It was just that he didn’t want your date to ogle you, to think of you the same way Bucky does so he is being a little selfish and conniving in his choice of garment.

“Where is he taking you?” His question is disguised as interest in the dress code but his real curiosity is far from an outfit.

There are two reasons why he needs to know where you will be tonight. The first is to judge whether this manchild is even worthy of a date with you, second if he knew the exact location and time, maybe he could show up and show out your date, make you realise what you deserve and how Bucky could be the one who gives it to you.

“We’re meeting at Rita’s down the road and then might see a movie, maybe something else. I’m not sure yet.”

“He hasn’t planned anything?” Bucky whips his head around to you, finding you standing there looking incredibly embarrassed at the lack of effort. What the fuck happened in the years he was gone?

The defeated shake of your head is enough to have Bucky’s chest aching. He sits back on his haunches; the dress discarded back in the pile and gives the outfit another look as he decides on where to go from here. “Yeah, I think it’s too much.” He nods and stands up, brushing his hands as if he had just completed an excavation on some ancient site.

“Go change back into your sweats ‘cause there is no way I’m letting you go on a date with a guy who can’t even plan something.” He nods his chin towards the bathroom, more of an order than a suggestion.

He watches you tilt your head back as you groan in frustration. “I’m not going through this again, old man. This is how it works now.”

Now it’s Bucky’s turn to get frustrated. He takes a step towards you, hulking 6’0 frame rising to tower above you with a somewhat menacing glare, but you know he will never hurt you no matter how much you push his buttons.

“I’m not talking about what it used to be like, little girl.” The jab at your age/generational difference comes out before he can register it, but he notices how your eyes widen. “This is about getting what you deserve.”

He pushes in on the space between your bodies, now chest to chest as you square your shoulders, not ready to back down from an argument despite knowing you will not win.

“And what’s that?” you stare up at him, brows raised in anticipation of his answer. You aren’t sure where this is going. If you are going to receive another lecture or maybe even a verbal beatdown as to why your standards for men are so low, a common topic of conversation between you and Natasha, but instead you are met with a soft smile as his Vibranium hand is raised and brushes against your cheek.

“You deserve flowers and preplanned dates and wine and jewellery and everything you could ever want.” Bucky’s voice drops into a whisper, cold fingers trailing soothing lines against your heating skin. “You deserve a man worshipping you, to be on his hands and knees begging to take you on a date. Not some punk who can barely put together a sentence.”

You hold his gaze, blue eyes staring intently as you shudder in a breath. “Who’s going to do that, huh?” your voice is small, no longer filled with the same bravado you had not a minute ago. “You know anyone who wants to do that for me, you send them my way Bucko.”

His metal hand slips to your cheek to your jaw, fingers pressing into your pulse points so he can feel the speed at which your heart is racing.

“I’d do it.” He states matter-of-factly, eyes dipping to your lips. “I’d do anything for you.”

Breathing becomes a little bit too difficult as his human hand traces up your bare arm.

“Anything?”

Bucky nods and dips his head until his face is mere centimetres from yours. “You didn’t let me finish before, but I'd give you anything you’ve ever wanted.” Fingers move to cup your chin and tilt your head up. “You want flowers, I’m a florist. Moon? Stars? I’m getting Stark to build me a rocket. Anything you want, you’re getting it.”

“And if I want you on your hands and knees barking like a dog for me?” You smirk, the mental image of Bucky on his knees panting like a puppy has your stomach twisting.

“Put a collar on me and call me Spot 'cause I’m yours, doll.”

The confession has your eyes widening.

“I’m all yours, from now until whenever you’re done with me.” Bucky whispers, breathless.

“And what if I want you to kiss me?” you ask, knowing he is waiting for your permission to do just that.

Bucky crumbles, his expression falling from that of teasing into one of pleading.

“I want you to kiss me, James.” You whisper.

His resolve breaks and he presses his lips to yours. Softly and timidly, closed mouth and restrained but as your hands reach out to grip his waist, a delicate gasp slipping past your lips, does he deepen the kiss. His mouth opens over yours, lips slotting against your plush ones, tongue darting out to test to waters only to be met with your slackening jaw. Bucky’s grip on you tightens as he continues to kiss you, afraid to let you go in case this was one of the many, many dreams he had where he woke up alone and confused, but as you bite down on his bottom lip, he is brought back to reality. Your hands on his waist, pull him tighter against you, the softness of your body had Bucky’s mind wandering to places it should not be. You pull back, pupils blown wide and lips parted as you pant. Bucky is just as breathless, hands cupping your face with a gentleness he doesn’t think you’ve ever known from the way you stare up at him.

“You’re not going on that date.”

“Whatever you say, old man.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

a/n: eee this is my first avengers fanfic since like 2018 pls be nice I just need something happy to think about clint living in the airvents, thor eating poptarts era was my happy place

#http shield ♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ #✮⋆˙ bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x oc #avengers oneshot #avengers fanfic #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fluff

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pietropatrol · 5 months ago

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The Love You Want (Part 2/2)

Read Part 1

Pietro Maximoff was a great teammate and a great "friends with benefits." That was, until you fell for him but he started to push you away. Now he was just a teammate with benefits. A charity gala put on by Tony causes tension between you and the speedster. Why is he so upset anyway?

Pairing: Pietro x Reader

Warnings: sexual content, pining idiots, language, angst, past trauma, jealousy

Words: 3,359

The prestigious doctors Tony had wanted you to schmooze were an easy conversation for two reasons.

One being you were a medical professional yourself. You were just a nurse practitioner in terms of your degree, but they were curious about how you used it in the field as an Avenger. Two, you were a walking medical miracle.

The serum had made you not only able to let your body heal itself, but heal others. Though the latter was to a certain extent and you had learned that the hard way.

The rule now was to stabilize with your powers if necessary, then treat medically until out of combat. Your powers could be depleted if you used them extensively on others, to the point your body is unable to heal yourself.

Bucky slid up to your side with another drink after a few minutes. He inclined his head to you and you nodded in return.

You would be okay… eventually. Would your heartache last for a few months? Yes. Pietro had been a fixation in your life for the last 2 years. You had never even entertained the thought of trying to be with someone else, officially or casually.

Why would you? You trusted no one outside of your team. At the rate it took to trust someone, it would be a decade before you’d be able to even try. You’d probably have to up your therapy sessions now too.

When the band started up after their break, Bucky excused the pair of you and pulled you over to the dance floor.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked quietly.

You shrugged, trying to ignore the sting returning to your eyes. “I basically told him I loved him, and then I broke it off.”

“Did he say anything?”

“No, he didn’t seem to know what to say.” Your voice was tight. “And when he did, I kept spewing my feelings at him. Like if I didn’t get it all out it was going to eat me alive.”

“And how do you feel now?” Bucky glanced over your shoulder, face neutral at whoever he made eye contact with.

“Is it pathetic of me to feel empty? How could I become so dependent on him? After everything that’s happened to me?”

Bucky’s gaze softened on you. “Y/N, you’re not pathetic. You love Pietro, and he isn’t your ex. It’s okay that you are attached to him.”

You hummed in response, not knowing what else to say.

“I am going to give you my observation, okay? Pietro loves you too.”

You started to disagree.

Bucky shook his head. “He has been stalking you since the moment you came back out here. His eyes have not left you. I’ve been watching him circle this atrium, ignore his date, and try to approach you multiple times.”

“I told you, he’s possessive.”

“Why would he be if he didn’t love you? Sure, some other men out there may be possessive without love, but I’ve seen how protective he is of you too. On missions, he’s not ever far from you. And, I bet if I start putting the moves on you again he’s going to stop being a scared-cat and finally come over here.”

“I’m just that good in bed is all, he doesn’t want to lose that,” you joked, though the words sounded hollow to your ears.

Bucky rolled his eyes and pulled you in closer as he dipped his heads towards you.

You didn’t even have time to pull your head back as you were swept into the arms of Pietro and on the other side of the dance floor.

Bucky gave you a look that was clearly an ‘I told you so’ and went back to the bar.

“I don’t share, Y/N. I’ve told you this,” Pietro growled and it made your knees weak. Why was him being a possessive asshole hot to you?

“And I thought I told you it was best for us to end whatever this is?” You gave him a pointed look.

“So you jump right on the next available teammate?”

“Sure, that’s what that was,” you spat. “Bucky is my new fuck buddy.”

Pietro paused from leading you around the dance floor and narrowed his eyes in on you, searching for something.

You stuck your chin out at him and didn’t speak a word. He could be the one to determine if that was true or not. If that was what he thought of you, so be it.

“I’m selfish,” he admitted quietly. “I’ve been selfish with you and I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Saying for everything would be an easy out, but you deserve more than that.” His hand delicately curled into your waist. Your instincts screamed to move closer to him, to create more contact.

“You can start with bringing my own personal nemesis to this event, and starving me beforehand. I can’t scarf down the hors d’oeuvres without worrying I am going to end up on the ‘don’t’ section of their ‘Do’s and Don’ts’ column,” you replied, throwing a glare at Sierra who was already glaring at you.

“You may end up in that section anyway for stealing her date.” He grinned teasingly down at you and your heart raced. It felt friendly in a way it hadn’t been for a long time.

“Her date actually stole me from mine, why do they always blame women for men’s actions?” You scowled.

“Are you really here with Barnes officially?”

“I would ask you the same thing about Lineheart, but I saw you physically recoil from her.” You rose your eyebrows at him.

He had the decency to appear a little bit guilty. “I’m sorry for bringing her to get a rise out of you. I now realize what a bad idea that was.”

“Wow, an apology and confession.”

“Are you really here with Barnes?” Pietro insisted on knowing.

“Well considering you made it so I would not remember this event was coming up—”

“I’m only half-sorry for that. The second half that is, when I didn’t remind you. The initial distraction I am quite proud of.” He cocked his head at you, watching the heat spread up your neck and cheeks.

You shook your head to clear your thoughts. “No, I’m not here with Bucky. He found me while I was avoiding you and offered to help make you jealous.”

The flash of relief was apparent in Pietro’s eyes. “Because it looked very convincing.”

“Well, that is part of our jobs some days. Acting convincing. You and I have done it many times before.”

The pair of you had done a few undercover missions that required you to be a couple. It was usually the most fun you had doing a job.

“Yeah, but I like to think it’s because we have something real going on too.” Pietro’s thumb started stroking your side, making it difficult to not melt into him.

“I’m sure it helped for you, as apparently you are terrible at acting. But it was all a show to make you jealous. Which is immature, I know. But fight fire with fire. It got the point across didn’t it?”

“Were you jealous?” Pietro asked, spinning you around again.

“Truthfully, no.” You frowned and he frowned back at you. “I was more hurt than anything, and then I knew you were trying to make me jealous so I was pissed off.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“Why would you even want me to be jealous, Pietro? It’s not like I’ve been the one pushing you away,” you said sharply.

Pietro sighed and pulled you off the dance floor. “Can we go talk somewhere more quiet? I’ve fucked up this all up, and I don’t want to cross our wires wrong anymore.”

“Yeah, I know a place.”

****

“How did you know about this?” Pietro glanced around the rooftop garden, empty and off limits for this event.

“I attended a S.H.I.E.L.D. event here a lifetime ago.” You took a swig from the bottle of champagne you stole from the kitchen on the way.

Last time you had been up here, your parents and ex were in attendance and everything was seemingly perfect. Your ex was still a secret hydra agent the whole time after all.

“I hope it was a happy time.”

“If I forget all that happened after, sure,” you said with a small laugh and handed the bottle to Pietro, who graciously accepted. “Not that I would want too, completely,” you added quietly.

“Y/N,” he started, turning to face you. You still looked out over the city, unsure and scared of what was going to be said. “I wish I could take back this last year.”

You sucked in a sharp breath as an ache started to spread across through your chest.

“After I am almost died for the second time in my life, I got scared for many reasons. And I didn’t handle it well. Do you know why I got hurt?”

You shook your head, not trusting your voice at that moment.

“I hesitated between you and Wanda. It took me a day or two to figure that out. I was going for Wanda but then I saw a gun on you and I changed course.”

“I would have been fine,” you assured him. “I was fine.”

“Which scared me even more. I know you will be fine 99% of the time. But in that moment all I could think about was protecting you. That what if that time it was the 1% of the time you wouldn’t be fine?”

“Unlikely, but I get that.” You turned to him and met his intense gaze. “There is a 75% chance you’ll be fine, but that 25% feels so much bigger.”

Pietro nodded and continued, “In that moment, you became more of a priority than Wanda, and that scared me. It still scares me. She has been my priority since we were children, but you overroad that. It felt like I betrayed her.”

“Is that why she’s been mad at me since then?” You frowned. It had been hard to lose the close relationship with Wanda while Pietro was also pushing you away.

“No. She’s mad at your for not breaking it off with me after I started pushing you away. She thinks you deserved better.”

“The both of you are terrible at communication,” you mused, and turned back to look over the city.

“Which brings me to also why I’ve been ass.” Pietro took a deep breath.

“An astronomical ass,” you agreed.

“Astronomical, yes. What scares me the most is loving you and losing you.” Your gaze snapped back to him, dumbfounded. “I thought that if I just pushed you away enough, I would never have to risk feeling that. I tried to quit you cold turkey, but I’m selfish and can’t go a week without your touch. I’m so selfish that I don’t want—”

“Wait—”

“To see you with any other man. I don’t want another man to even—”

“Pietro, wait—”

“touch or flirt with you. But I realize now, I was going to lose you even more if I pushed you away. I love you and I hurt you, and I’m so—”

You covered his mouth with your hand, stunning him into silence. “You love me?”

His quirked an eyebrow at you and pulled your hand away from his mouth. “Yes, I love you. What little I had of you was the only thing keeping me sane. But it was also driving me insane. It was torture to leave you abruptly every time when all I wanted to do was burrow further into you and never leave.”

A shudder ran up your spine and Pietro smirked. You were simultaneously relieved, joyful, and annoyed at the same time at that look.

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” You smacked his shoulder. “When has pretending not to love someone ever worked? We’ve watched movies together where the hero hurts the love interest to protect them, and it doesn’t work.”

“Well, those love interests weren’t also superheroes,” Pietro defended himself.

“Do superheroes not also have feelings?”

Pietro rolled his eyes. “Like you said, I’m an idiot.”

“A fucking idiot,” you corrected.

“You make me one, honestly,” he chuckled and reached out to caress your cheek. “But it was more than a selfish decision too. Just so you know.” His thumbs brushed your cheek bones, leaving trails of tingling skin. “I got hurt and then you got hurt trying to help me. I thought pulling away would stop whatever we had going on and you would be safe if you were less inclined to save my ass.”

“It was my decision to make!” you said, letting your annoyance penetrate every syllable.

“Yes, but we didn’t know at the time that your powers can be drained. You may have been less likely to jump straight into a line of fire if I got hurt again.”

“You’ve watched too many hero movies now that I think about it. So much so that you think like the hero. Doubting how stubborn the love interest is.” You narrowed your eyes at his amused expression. “Not realizing that as strongly as the hero feels for the love interest, the love interest feels just as much. That she would crawl through broken glass to save the hero.”

“And I ask that you promise me not to, dragoste.” His hand slide onto the back of your neck and he pulled you flush to him. His heat welcome in the cool summer air. “It hurts me more to see you hurt because of me.”

“Well, you’re going to have to learn to live without that promise.” You brushed your lips against his. “Would you make the same promise to me?”

A rumble of disagreement vibrated in his chest and he held you tighter. “I can’t make that promise.”

“Well, it appears we are at an impasse.”

“Can we just agree not to get hurt as much as possible?” Pietro nuzzled into your neck, his hands skating down your spine.

“I think I can try,” you snorted, tilting your head back to give him full access to you neck.

“If you let me, I will love you with my whole being. I’ve been biting—” he nipped as the crook of your neck and you yelped. “—at the bit to do so for so long.”

“I think the phrase is ‘champing at the bit’,” you breathlessly teased. “But I think I can be inclined to let you love me. Would you mind showing me?”

Pietro pulled away momentarily, resulting in an annoyed grunt from you.

“Were you going to let Barnes kiss you?” His eyes were dark and molten on yours.

“If I said yes, you would get even more possessive and it’s kind of hot. But no, I was going to pull away when you intervened to keep me to yourself. Because I love you, Pietro.”

“I can’t believe he was going to kiss you.” Pietro came back to your neck and his hands fiddled with the silk of your dress just above your ass. “And while you are painfully beautiful in your dress, I would much rather see you out of it.”

****

Y/N Y/L/N CAUSING RIFT IN AVENGERS

Tensions were high at last night’s Stark Industries gala. Y/N Y/L/N, a.k.a. Vitality, was seen to be getting extremely cozy with not only Bucky Barnes, a.k.a. Winter Soldier, but also Pietro Maximoff, a.k.a. Quicksilver. Our source says Y/L/N was all over Barnes at the beginning of the night until Maximoff almost came to blows with his teammate over her. How many more teammates has Y/L/N—

Your phone was ripped from your hands and tossed onto the nightstand. You looked up to see Pietro, only wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and holding the morning’s provisions he had just gone in search of.

“Do not read that garbage,” he chided, “She’s going to be up your ass for a bit but she’ll get bored.”

“She is not going to let this go anytime soon, Piet. You poked the proverbial bear by basically ghosting her. And she saw us leave together!”

“Everyone saw us leave together, because I wanted them to,” Pietro admitted and slid the plate over to you. It was an assortment of fruits and a couple of bagels.

“Well you succeeded. I will avoid the internet for the foreseeable future. Your fangirls are going to have a field day with me,” you sighed and stifled a yawn.

Pietro’s eyes tracked your movements and trailed to your bare backside. “I could get used to this.”

“Used to what?” you played dumb, wanting to hear the answer.

“You naked in our bed every morning.”

You paused from grabbing a strawberry. “Our bed?”

“You’re moving into my room,” he stated, sliding up over your back and ghosting his lips over your shoulder before he bit down at the base of your neck.

You did you best not to gurgle in response. That spot always sent every nerve into a frenzy.

“I will not spend another night or morning away from you, if I can help it,” he murmured and gripped your hip bones in his warm, skillful hands.

“Your moving this fast, huh Maximoff?” you tried to keep a level tone, but your voice still came out breathy as he pinned you further to mattress under his weight.

“This,” he emphasized by pressing himself into your backside, letting you feel just what he meant, “has been going on for two years, dragoste. So not fast at all. Besides, some things don’t need to be fast. I can be quite good at taking things slow, as you know.”

His teeth nibbled at you again. “I know all to well, you are torturously slow sometimes,” you panted.

“You love the result though, no?” His lips began to trail down your back.

You bit back a moan as he hiked your hips up, ass in the air. His fingers dancing dangerously over you clit. You tried to push again him, but he quickly held you in place.

“So eager, dragoste? It’s only been an hour.”

You growled in frustration. “Wipe that smirk off your face, Pietro.”

“You can’t even see my face,” he argued.

“Oh, eat me.”

“Gladly,” he grinned, “after you answer my question.”

“Of course,” you whined, aching from the teasing.

“Good girl.”

His mouth was on you before you could even moan from being called a good girl.

****

“Alright, who won?” Tony looked around to the team that had made it to the kitchen that morning.

“Won what?” Nat asked.

“The bet.”

“What bet?”

“For how long it would take Pietro and Y/N to acknowledge their feelings and go public. I had 1 year since we placed the bet, we’re at 10 months since the bet.” Tony looked to Wanda, Steve, and Bruce.

“You guys knew?” Nat gaped at them.

“You didn’t?” Steve was shocked. “Nat, even I could see it.”

“No, Steve knows only because he was unfortunate to walk in on them in the sparing room onetime. They did not notice,” Tony rolled eyes.

“And you Bruce?” Nat asked, she couldn’t believe she’d not seen it.

“I was unfortunate to walk in on them in the med bay once after a missions, they did not notice.” Bruce grimaced. “I just needed a bandaid.”

“All I needed to see was their constant fuck me eyes to know. It sometimes can come off as playful or antagonistic looks, but they may be one and the same for them.” Tony shrugged.

“Well, I lost. I thought it would only take a month for them to work their shit out,” Wanda groaned.

“I had six months, so that puts me four months off,” Steve sighed.

“I had three months, I had more faith in them than I should have,” Bruce conceded.

“Well that makes me the winner. They are both stubborn idiots. What’s our next wager? When to expect a mini-avenger now that they are bound to be stupid-in-love idiots?” Tony teased.

“Not funny, Stark,” Nat grunted.

***

REQUESTED TAGS: @fxllen0stxrs, @littlemarvelstan8, fandomenbylover

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cursedlovesstuff · 4 months ago

Text

Nervous Proposal K.B.

Kate Bishop stood outside the Romanoff's apartment, her heart pounding like she had just finished a marathon.

She nervously adjusted the grip on the bouquet of roses in her hands, her fingers fidgeting with the ribbon tied around the stems.

Clint’s voice echoed in her mind, trying to reassure her. “Come on, Kate, just do it. What’s the worst that could happen? Nat and Yelena like you, right?”

But as she stood at the door, every possible worst-case scenario played through her mind.

Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, was terrifying enough on a good day.

Add in her younger sister Yelena, who was just as deadly and even more unpredictable, and Kate’s nerves skyrocketed.

This wasn’t just about facing the Romanoff sisters,this was about Y/N, the person she’d been crushing on for what felt like forever.

Y/N wasn’t just another person.

She was the one who made Kate’s heart race every time they hung out, the one who made her feel like the world wasn’t as chaotic as it seemed.

Now, standing at the door, Kate was about to take the biggest risk of her life, asking Y/N out on a date.

When Kate finally summoned the courage, she raised her hand and knocked on the door.

The sound echoed in her ears, almost too loud, as if the universe was amplifying her anxiety.

She waited, her mind racing, until she heard the familiar sound of footsteps approaching from inside the apartment.

The door opened, and there stood Natasha Romanoff. “Hi, Kate,” Natasha greeted, her voice neutral but her eyes sharp.

She glanced down at the bouquet in Kate’s hands, then back up at Kate’s face, a small smirk playing on her lips. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Kate swallowed hard, trying to find her voice. “Uh, hi, Nat. I was, um, I was wondering if Y/N is home?”

Natasha tilted her head slightly, considering the question. “Maybe. Why do you ask?” Her tone was teasing, but there was an underlying protectiveness that made Kate’s stomach twist.

“Because I, um... I wanted to talk to her,” Kate managed to say, her voice wavering despite her best efforts to sound confident. “If that’s okay with you, of course.”

Natasha studied Kate for a few moments longer, the silence stretching out until it felt almost unbearable. “Y/N!” she called over her shoulder. “You’ve got a visitor.”

Kate let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding as she heard the sound of another door opening and closing inside the apartment.

A few seconds later, Y/N appeared in the doorway, her eyes lighting up when she saw Kate standing there with the roses.

“Hey, Kate,” Y/N said with a smile, her presence immediately soothing some of Kate’s nerves. “What’s up?”

As Natasha took a step back, giving them space as she walked away.

Kate forced herself to focus on Y/N, who was looking at her with a mix of curiosity and affection.

This was the moment she had been building up to, the one she had spent countless hours thinking about, and now that it was here, the words seemed to catch in her throat.

“I, um, I got roses,” Kate blurted out, holding out the bouquet awkwardly.

As soon as the words left her mouth, she cringed internally. Of course, Y/N could see that. The roses were right there.

Y/N chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “I can see that,” she said, her voice warm.

Kate’s face flushed, and she quickly tried to recover. “I mean, I got these roses for you,” she corrected herself, feeling like her nerves were turning her brain to mush. “I, um, I couldn’t find your favorite flowers, so I got these instead. I hope that’s okay.”

Y/N’s smile widened, and she reached out to take the roses from Kate’s trembling hands.

“They’re perfect, Kate,” she said softly, her fingers brushing against Kate’s as she accepted the flowers.

Kate felt her heart do a flip at the contact, but she forced herself to stay focused. She had come this far—she couldn’t back down now. “So, I was wondering... if you’d like to go out with me?”

"Like on a date?" Y/N asked, a playful glint in her eyes.

“Yes! Can I take you out on a date?” Kate responded quickly, her voice full of hope and nervous energy.

At first, Y/N didn’t respond, and the silence felt like it stretched on forever. But then Y/N’s expression softened, and she nodded. “I’d love to, Kate,” Y/N replied, her voice filled with genuine warmth.

Kate’s heart soared, and she couldn't help the grin spreading across her face. “Great,” she said, barely able to contain her excitement. “Are you free on Friday?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, Friday works for me.”

“Friday at 6?” Kate suggested, trying to sound casual despite the butterflies in her stomach.

“Friday at six sounds perfect.”

“Great! I mean, awesome!” Kate stammered, unable to hide her excitement. “I’ll pick you up then?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Y/N said, her smile brightening even more. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Kate’s grin was so wide it hurt, but she didn’t care. “Me too,” she said, feeling like she was walking on air. “okay, I’ve got to go do something—training. I’ll see you on Friday.”

“Goodnight, Bishop,” Y/N said with a soft smile.

“Goodnight, Romanoff,” Kate replied, turning to leave, her heart racing with a mix of nerves and excitement as she walked away.

As she made her way down the hallway, Kate couldn’t help but glance back over her shoulder, catching one last glimpse of Y/N standing in the doorway, still holding the roses with that same warm smile on her face. It was a sight that would keep Kate smiling all week.

Not my best work but I hope you enjoyed it !

#kate bishop #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x y/n #oneshot #fluffish #avengers #avengers oneshot

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nev3rfound · 2 years ago

Text

anyone but you : b.b

you were Bucky's pocket of sunshine, his sweet girl outside of the avengers. a slice of normality in his less-than lifestyle, but what happens when you're pulled into it in the worst way? (2.6k)

we've got ourselves a good'un today angels, and you have @imagine-all-the-fandoms for the brill idea :)

warnings - graphic descriptions of torture and wounds. (but fluffy ending)

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop

“Mmh, okay. So, our options- wait stop laughing at me!” Throwing the menus in his direction, Bucky stifles the rest of his laugh by trying to play it off as a cough.

Shaking his head, Bucky picks up the menus that had been promptly thrown at him. "I'm not laughing at you doll." Bucky reasons, moving across the sofa to now kneel in front of the coffee table where you're perching opposite him looking through your phone for alternatives.

"Sure sounds like it to me." You chide, glancing up with a mischievous glint in your eyes, one Bucky can't help but get lost in, completely missing the words sounding from your lips. Clicking your fingers in front of him, Bucky snaps from the depths of his mind.

"What did you say?" Bucky asks, only elated as your grin widens into a playful smile. "Right, dinner!" Bucky slaps his hand down on his thigh before rising to his feet and dramatically clasps one hand over his eyes. "How 'bout we do the random selector, huh?"

Chuckling to yourself, you nod along before rising to your feet. "Let's do it, Barnes."

Covering your eyes as well, the pair of you reach down and clutch a menu in your grasp and open your eyes. "I got Chinese!" You announce, and Bucky grunts in disappointment as he holds up the leaflet loosely.

"I got the shitty pizza place a few blocks away." He groans, watching you cheer victoriously. "You won this time, Y/n." He rushes over to your side of the table, wrapping his arms around your waist before lifting you up, hearing you squeal before dropping the menu. "But I'll win next time, mark my words."

With your arms around his neck, Bucky dips you lowly with a smirk. "That so, Barnes?" You tease, leaning closer to his face. "We'll see." You add, closing the distance between you both with a sweet quick kiss. "Now come on, I'm starving!"

"Thirty minutes til we land, guys." Natasha announces from the front of the jet.

Unable to keep his knee from bouncing once the announcement was made, Bucky cannot stop his thoughts from returning to you. It had been a longer mission than anticipated with little to no contact with the outside world. He's so used to sending a text, a quick call to just hear your voice and know you're okay whether it be doing a mundane task or listening to you moan about a colleague.

That's one of the things Bucky loves about you; the normalcy of it all. You couldn't be more of a polar opposite to the former soldier, with a 9-5, a pension scheme, and health benefits included. Whereas he just gets thrown into the unknown more than he cares to admit and comes out slightly more traumatized with each mission.

Noting the nervous actions of his friend, Steve nudges Bucky's arm. "You got plans with Y/n once we get back?" Steve asks, knowing it'll help pass the remaining time until they land.

Within seconds the tension melts from Bucky's body and even Sam catches the barely there smile on the soldier's face.

"Going to this movie theatre she loves, it's kinda run down but she likes to call it 'old school.'" He quotes, picturing the first time you dragged him along to the theatre. "And well, I've got something planned for her, but I don't know." Bucky trails off, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

"Well, sounds great to me, Buck." Steve comments, moving slightly closer, and lowers his head in an attempt to keep the overs from interrupting. "So, you ever gonna bring her to the compound?"

Bucky sighs deeply and Steve backs up, knowing it's useless to even pry further into it.

"It's just so good, Steve." Bucky starts, glancing around at those around him, some looking through reports and others dozing off. "I don't want her to get enveloped in this side of our life." He explains and Steve simply nods. "I love what we have, and, and I don't wanna risk ruining that."

"Understood." Steve pats Bucky's arm. "She really brings out the best in you, you know?"

"Yeah, he's been notably less grumpy since they got together." Sam comments from the other side of the jet, receiving a brief glare from Bucky. "Less grumpy, Barnes. You're no ray of sunshine yet."

The rest of the flight sped by whilst Bucky remained deep in his thoughts which mostly circled around you. He was jolted from his memories once the jet landed and they all began to disembark.

As the team began to walk through the compound, Bucky quickly got his phone out to send you a message. But before he could even start to type one, a series of urgent texts flash up on his screen.

"Bucky?" Steve calls out to his friend who is almost frozen in place, staring down at his phone with panic written across his expression. "Buck?" Walking toward his friend, he looks down at Bucky's phone and feels his heart drop at what he's reading.

With a shaky hand, Bucky forces his head up to meet Steve's eyes. "Steve, I," He can barely form the right words, unsure what to even say. "This, this can't happen." His mind shifts to denial, but upon hearing his name being called urgently up ahead by Tony and Bruce he can feel his whole world crashing down on him.

The first sensation that came back was your smell. In hindsight, you wish it wasn't and that you could've remained senseless, but you weren't so lucky.

It smelt like metal, smoke, and sweat. Little did you know, that was all coming from you.

Your eyesight followed suit and quickly alerted your captures with delight that you were conscious at last. "Help!" You cry out, now noticing your arms shackled to a wall in a dank-looking cell. "Please, help me!" Within seconds the screams tear at your throat, scratching it raw as laughter enters your ears.

Through the shadows, a large figure emerges holding up an old school camcorder whilst he grimaces at you, eyes roaming over the wounds inflicted. "Bout time you woke up darling." The man snarls, moving closer into your enclosed space. "Wanna say hi to your friends?" Forcing the camera to your face, you're quick to turn your head away, only to feel a sweaty hand clench your jaw and force you to look directly into the lens as tears glisten in your eyes. "You know what to do if you want her back." The man comments, further confusing you about the situation before he reveals a small knife in his grasp.

"No, please," You plead, shaking your head at the sight of the knife rising before plowing it down into your thigh.

The last thing Bucky sees is your face contorted in pain, the movement of your lips as you scream in anguish. But all of the sounds have become white noise.

"Do we know who sent this?" Steve is the first to ask, noting Bucky standing too still for his own liking.

Raising his hand, Bruce swipes across and reveals three headshots of so-called reformed criminals. "Jason Donahough, Mark Whitehall, and Edward Polaski." Bruce points to each, pausing at the sound of Bucky's metal arm whirring, the plates sliding as he clenches both fists at the images.

"I know them." Bucky states through gritted teeth.

"A message was delivered with the video, we're trying to locate the source with the help of FRIDAY." Tony explains, revealing the two simple sentences.

Come get your girl, Winter Soldier. It's time to resume the game.

A shudder spreads through Bucky at the second sentence. They still remember what he did, and clearly aren't messing around this time.

"I have to go." Bucky tells himself, too in his own head to notice several pairs of eyes fall on him in alarm.

"Bucky, that's," Steve starts, but Bucky is already walking out the door before he can finish his sentence. "We gotta go, who's in?"

Almost every hand shoots up and Steve nods, everyone starts to file out, knowing what needs to be done.

They came in abruptly, knocking the chains on your ankles to alert you of their presence. Mostly they just wanted to taunt you, sometimes they'd spare you the pain of reminding you that you were alone and no one would come for you. But more often than not, they'd add to your growing list of injuries, conflicting another wound to your skin as more blood stains the tiles.

No one answers the questions you ask when conscious enough to form words. 'Where am I?' 'How long have I been here?' and the one that scares you most of all, 'Why me?'

"You think he'll come?" Your ears perk up at the question, and you force your heavy head up an inch to see two of your attackers conversing outside of your cell.

One of them is holding a phone tightly in his grasp, chewing on his lip at the question. "For her? Hopefully." He scoffs before looking back at you, noticing the corners of your lips rising weakly. "What're you smiling at, bitch?" His voice rises before he marches over to you, grabs a hold of your face with one hand, and stares you dead in the eyes. "Somethin' you wanna say?" He demands, eyes widening awaiting a response.

Instead, you spit in his face, watching him recoil in disgust.

"You'll pay for that," He states, reaching into his pocket for something whilst your eyes grow heavy once again, unaware of a red light flickering through the base and alarms blaring.

The two men exchange a look, one you're oblivious to when your head slumps back down to rest against your chest.

"Showtime." One of the men laughs, clapping his hands before they both exit the cell, leaving your weak body alone-something you can be silently thankful for.

"Bucky," His name passes from your lips before your eyes drop once more.

Leading the mission, Bucky refuses to trail from the plan. Sometimes, he'll swerve from the set motions, but when it comes to you, nothing is to be changed or come as a surprise.

Continuing through the dank corridors, Bucky keeps his gun aimed in front of him whilst Steve and Natasha follow behind. So far Bucky has not left a single guard standing, and some without breath.

"You think this is it?" Natasha questions, looking at a series of locked doors, each with a number printed above and the red light flashing.

Bucky remains silent, trying to zone out from the murmurs behind him. His eyes continuously scan over the doors, he homes in on the furthest down the corridor, noting the light flashing white instead of red.

"There." Bucky speaks up, picking up pace toward the door only to be surprised by three guards who start shooting.

Wasting no time, Bucky tears the three down with ease. He ignores their screams whilst he shoots and punches his way through them.

Breathing deeply, Bucky leans forward to see a series of buttons to unlock the door. "Got any idea-" Steve starts, only to be met with Bucky smashing his metal fist into the panel, causing the door to open.

Adjusting their eyes to the dimly lit room, the trio enter apprehensively.

Scanning the room, Bucky's breath catches in his throat at the frail figure in the corner of the room. "Y/n?" His voice croaks, wasting no time to rush to your side, delicately lifting your head up to his lap. Eyeing over your various injuries, Bucky shakes his head and nestles your cheek with his hand. "What've they done to you?"

"Buck, we've got to get her out, now." Steve places his hand on his friend's shoulder, watching his oldest friend help you up and break the chains keeping you cemented in place. "Nat's clearing our exit, we don't have long."

Upon picking you up, Bucky freezes at your loud cry. "I'm sorry, doll, I'm so sorry." He repeatedly mumbles into your neck as he cradles your body in his arms all too aware of you dipping in and out of consciousness.

Much to their surprise, their exit is easier than anticipated. With you lying limp in Bucky's arms breathing heartlessly, Nat starts the jet up.

"It was all just to prove a point." Bucky states quietly, an oxygen mask now covering your nose and mouth. "just to show they could still get back at me, after all this time." His fists begin to clench on the edge of the seat, something Steve quickly picks up on as he moves to sit beside the pair of you.

Looking down at you in daylight, Steve could feel his heart clench in his chest. From what he saw of you briefly in photographs, you were shell of the woman you were physically, let alone mentally when you eventually come to.

"She's safe now, Buck." Steve reminds Bucky, feeling a sense of hope wash over the jet at your eyes open.

"Buck?" You croak, trying to lift your hand up, only for it to be held tightly by Buckys. "You, you found me." Tears start to build in your eyes upon seeing his, only for them to quickly refill with black spots.

"Of course, I'll always find you." Bucky whispers, leaning down to kiss your forehead as a tear glides across your skin.

two months later

"Okay, okay!" Bucky chuckles heartfully, clutching the menu in his grasp above his head whilst you pout up at him. "Just say sorry and it's yours, doll."

Crossing your arms over your chest, you lightly sigh. "Come on, that's not fair. Steve will agree with me on this, right, Steve?" Glancing over your shoulder, Steve doesn't move a muscle from the armchair situated in the compound living area. "Steve?" Waving your hand, you reach for a cushion to throw at him, only for it to be deflected at the last second.

"I think you've got a slight advantage here, Buck." Steve chimes in, much to Bucky's playful dismay.

Lowering his arms back down, Bucky kneels in front of you with the menu in hand. "Here you go, doll." He winks, watching you snatch it from his grasp before wheeling backward toward the coffee table.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Barnes." You salute, reaching across for your crutch to ease you out of the wheelchair.

Upon hearing a quiet wince, Bucky's gaze falls upon you, and starts to walk in your direction to assist. "She's got this." Natasha pipes up, now entering the room to see what all the commotion was.

"Thanks, Nat." You smile, now using the crutch you reach for your phone, revealing the scarring on your forearm which sometimes hurts to see.

With a quick tug, you pull on the sleeve of Bucky's henley you've stolen before dialing for the takeaway and leaving the room.

Now left alone with two old friends, Bucky can practically hear their questions protruding. "She's just taking things a day at a time." Bucky explains, burying his head in his hands at the memories of the past few months.

"I mean, I haven't heard her laugh like this since before," He trails off, not wishing to finish the sentence as images of blood, your screams, and pleads replay.

"It's alright," Natasha comments with a soft smile. "She's tougher than she looks, for a civilian that is." She adds.

"Who're you callin' a civilian?" You speak up, feigning shock at Natasha's remark. "I happen to be a very special person." You add, slowly making your way toward Bucky.

Smiling at the interaction, Steve dares to ask. "And what makes you special, huh, Y/n?" He plays along, thankful to see Bucky's smile growing as you reach him, wrapping your free arm around his middle.

"'Cause this guy gets to date me." You state with a smug grin, feeling Bucky kiss your temple with a smile on his lips. "Nothing more special than that, right?" Looking up at Bucky, his smile only widens as the sparkle in your eye flashes for a moment, slowly making its return.

"Yeah, doll." Bucky tells you. "Luckiest guy around."

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heliads · 5 days ago

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you're going to have to shut this down - steve rogers

You grew up with Steve Rogers in the 1940s and froze with him until the present day, too. When he leaves you after killing Thanos to return to the '40s, it's the biggest betrayal of your life. If there was a way to ever see him again, it would require the crossing of many timelines, something you'd know nothing about. The TVA might, though.

masterlist

a/n: back from the dead! who would have thought (not me). who can say how long. enjoy xoxo

You join the TVA because you have nothing else to do. It’s not a bad gig, all things considered. It makes about as much sense as life normally does for you, which is to say, not at all. You’re getting better about understanding the splashier technology, the speedier cars, the altered accents. Not everything is going to seem like it’s fresh out of the 1940s, because only you are. It’s been several years since they got you out of the ice. By all accounts, you should have settled in a long time ago.

And you have, honestly. You did a good job of learning fast and moving on. Still, all it takes is one odd word of slang you don’t understand or a reference to a world-altering event that you never heard of to shove you two steps back instead of forward. You never expected it to be easy, trying to live in the new century. You just didn’t think you’d have to do it alone, either.

The Avengers helped. Despite the infighting and the many false retirements and the deaths, that job helped put you together more than anything else. Everyone was strange there, so no one was. Even the person out of time.

Maybe that’s why the TVA reached out after it was all over– they knew you needed a fresh start. A new team, too, one that didn’t really care about your understanding of any one particular timeline. It was the perfect fit. Why not risk your life for someone else all over again?

It had made sense at the time. After Thanos was defeated, you’d lost your purpose. The Avengers didn’t technically disband, but enough of the original core had been lost to death and retirement and better things. You could sense a new generation rising up to take the mantle, and, not wanting to go through the same cycle of learning new faces just to lose them again, you stepped aside.

Retirement wasn’t good for you. All that time on your own left you twitchy, waiting for something to do, someone to see. You suppose it wouldn’t have been a problem at all if it weren’t for one specific absence, but that’s just the way it goes sometimes. Maybe you should have learned a long time ago to never bet your happiness on Steve Rogers, because when he left, you felt like you’d lost everything.

Even after all this time, you still can’t fathom why he did it, why he left you behind. You had grown up in the 1940s by his side, next door neighbors and family friends. Your parents knew his, and died around the same time his did, too. You’d been inseparable for as long as you could remember. You thought it was the worst pain in your life when he and Bucky went to war, so you followed, taking on a position as a medic in their regiment.

Steve had been absolutely furious that you’d put yourself into harm’s way like that, but you didn’t care. Everything was good so long as you were still together, and for a while, it was. Sure, it took you a while to remember how to act normally after he underwent his Captain America transformation, but he was still Steve, your Steve. And that was okay.

You were almost starting to believe in fantasies that you’d be able to make it back to Brooklyn one day, and then the cards stopped falling in your favor. First, you were sent to hunt down Zola, which was doomed from the start. You’d lost Bucky from the side of the train, which was the beginning of the end. Steve was spiraling and you knew it. It should have come as no surprise that he’d plunge himself into whatever danger he could find to try and keep his mind off the loss. It should have come as no surprise that you’d go with him.

However, neither of you expected to find yourselves on a plane headed into the ocean. It felt fitting somehow, dying with Steve. Bucky was gone anyway. You might as well join him. It was cold enough that you didn’t feel the water entering your lungs. You knew Steve’s hand was in yours even after you lost the sensation in your fingers. You felt him with you even after you closed your eyes for the final time.

Only, it wasn’t the final time. You woke up after what seemed like a matter of hours and ended up being several decades. The new century was full of trouble, but you and Steve were determined to run headfirst into it. You can still remember listening to the new music with him, quizzing each other on current events, doing everything under the sun together in the name of embracing modernity.

Even if it felt wrong to be so suddenly transplanted out of your normal world and into this bright, fast-paced future, some part of you was glad for it. You’ve had a secret crush on Steve since you were ten years old and starry-eyed for the boy next door. What did you lose by leaving the 1940s, anyway– sickness, the war, significantly worse water quality? Steve needed you here more than he ever needed you there. There was so much more in this modern world that would bring the two of you together, and you were delighted for it.

You were delighted, that is. You had assumed that Steve was, too. He certainly seemed like it, always down to visit a new museum or take a trip out of the city. He’d been happy with you. You were certain about it.

Yet, years after you first woke up together in a strange new world, he traveled back in time to return the Infinity Stones and came back as an old man who had already lived his life back in the 1940s. You weren’t there when it happened. Steve had actually sent you away, back to New York, so you could monitor the sites where the transfer of the Stones would take place to see if anything went wrong in the future. You’ll always wonder if he did that on purpose, to make sure you didn’t come with him, or if he really was worried about something as mundane as the Stones after all.

In the end, you’ll never know. Steve never told you about his plan to go back. You’re certain that Bucky was aware of it, even if he denies it. You saw the look on his face when Bucky returned from the job alone and told you that Steve had made his choice. He wasn’t surprised or shocked like you. He was sad, but accepting, because he already knew.

It was the worst betrayal of your life. You told Steve everything except the fact that you love him, and he left without telling you a single goodbye. Somehow, somewhere along the line you had walked together all your lives, Steve decided that he would rather live and die in the past without you than face the future you’d been building since they took you out of the ice. You’ve tried to remember moments in which he wasn’t happy, when you could have seen the signs and known that Steve was going to leave, but you can’t. Steve never seemed to have a problem with the modern world until he left it. It makes no sense, and so the awful mystery consumes you whole.

It would be one thing to retire from the Avengers with Steve by your side, just like always. Now, though, you’re losing not just your main activity but the last vestige of your heart. Bucky is your friend, close to family, but he’s not Steve and never will be. You’ve tried to spend time with him, but every time you see Bucky, you’re haunted by a third presence that should be there yet isn’t. You haven’t talked in a while. It’s probably better that way, anyway.

Luckily, you weren’t left to your own devices forever. One lonely morning, an orange panel of light opened up in front of you, and out of it stepped Loki, who, according to Thor, should have died when Thanos visited. He’d explained briefly how he was still alive, but focused more on offering you a chance to work with the TVA. Without anything better to do but sit around and mope, you’d agreed.

You and Loki have gotten along well for the most part, surprisingly enough. Barring the part where he’d tried to invade New York, you’ve come in contact with him through Thor several times and gotten along through a shared sarcastic sense of humor and biting wit. You’re probably one of the Avengers Loki tolerates the most, a title you bear with no small semblance of pride. Loki had needed someone to advise him on a variant, and he’d gone to you.

It’s a good job for someone out of time. The timelines all converge and diverge in mysterious ways, so who could truly say what’s current or out-of-date? You help Loki and the other TVA officers in maintaining the timeline. Slowly, you settle in, and you stop thinking about going back to your usual timeline. Why bother, anyway? There’s nothing left for you there. Bucky has moved on. Steve is gone. Your family passed on decades ago, and your friends in the Avengers are dead or busy. It’s not a place for you anymore.

Honestly, it’s decent work, all things considered, until you hear about an errant variant totally destroying not just his universe but every one to cross his path. Loki comes bursting into the main office, which isn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence, but the look in his eyes certainly isn’t. Apparently, there’s some guy who left his universe and started jumping around in many others. He’d stayed in his first place for many years, but made so many major changes that the timeline was all but destroyed. Once this variant took note of the fires he couldn’t put out, he started jumping into other places, doing the same thing in less time.

He’s someone who’ll have to be stopped, to say the least. It’s certainly a cause for concern, but that doesn’t explain the cagey expression on Loki’s face. There’s something he isn’t telling you, to be sure, something big. Something that might make you rethink this assignment entirely.

“Loki,” you say slowly, once the god of mischief has calmed down enough to go from frenetic pacing to merely glaring at the small hologram of Miss Minutes across the room, “What’s really going on here? Who exactly is this variant?”

Loki hesitates, and you know what he’s going to say before he even opens his mouth. This variant isn’t just anyone, is it? No, of course not. That would be too easy, and if you’ve learned anything in your voyages across the timelines, it’s that nothing in any universe is ever easy.

The variant destroying the worlds– it’s Steve. And it’s your Steve specifically, the one who’d decided to leave you to go back in time. It’s the precise version of Steve Rogers from your universe who had abandoned all you’d built to go back and live to old age in the 1940s.

You suck in a harsh breath. “That’s impossible. Steve would never do a thing like that. He saves the universe, he doesn’t destroy it.”

Loki laughs bitterly. “Think again, Y/N. It’s him.”

You shake your head unthinkingly, but as little as you want to even contemplate the idea, you can’t deny that it might be likely. Steve already upset the laws of the multiverse when he went to live his life in the 1940s. Who’s to say what else he might do?

You stand up and join Loki in his pacing. “Don’t go through the usual steps. Bring him here.”

Loki starts to protest, but you silence him with a glance. “Think of it as a favor. You owe me, you know that. I won’t kill him, not yet. Not until I know what’s going on.”

One desk over, Mobius holds up his hands. “Wait, wait. Maybe this Steve is a friend of yours, but he’s still a dangerous variant who is quite literally destroying the fabric of time with every jump he makes. Are you sure that bringing him into the TVA is the best idea?”

You lift a shoulder. “Do you have any other ideas of where to put him?”

Mobius sighs. “No, but I don’t like this.”

“You don’t have to like this,” you tell him, “but I need to talk to Steve. Please.”

You look over at Loki hopefully, and feel a crush of relief when you see him caving. “Fine, but the second Rogers tries anything, we’re all over him. We can’t risk the multiverse for one melodramatic walking flag.”

You chuckle in spite of yourself. It’s not a happy sound. “Just let me see what I can do.”

You have no idea what you’ll do with your errant Steve once he gets here. Before that, though, you’re going to have to solve the problem of bringing him here in the first place. If what Loki says is true, Steve is not going to come quietly.

You’re still having trouble wrapping your mind around the whole concept. Steve– your Steve– destroying timelines? Rampaging through the multiverse? It doesn’t even compute in your mind. After all you’ve seen of him, through every decade, in every incarnation, every uniform, he has still been himself at the core. Even when he just came out of the ice. Even when he lost Bucky after Thanos’ snap. Even when you lost the biggest battle of your lives.

Something must have happened to him when he was going back in time, that’s all you can imagine. It’s certainly a better thing to tell yourself, it makes you believe that there was a reason outside his control that he would have left you in the dust. Yes, this must be the fault of traveling through time, and not the simple fact that Steve didn’t want you anymore.

You suit up with the rest, ready to head out and collect your errant Captain. You deliberate over the helmet when Mobius advises you to hide your face in any way possible. He’s had many bad dealings with variants over the years, he claims. No one knows what Steve would do if he saw you.

Face obscured, you walk through a Timedoor to the latest universe Steve has attempted to conquer. It doesn’t take long to find a disturbance; you’ve hardly stepped through the orange portal before you’re greeted with the sound of screaming, the smell of smoke. Buildings are burning. It’s like the world is on fire, and all you can think about is that somehow, Steve caused this.

“We have to move fast,” Mobius urges. “The timeline is unraveling by the second. Find the variant and drag him through a Timedoor as fast as you can.”

You nod your assent and start moving. The easiest thing to do is to head towards the center of the chaos, and so you do, the other TVA agents not far behind you. The smoke gets thicker, all culminating around one building in the center of the city. With a chill, you realize it’s what should be the old Avengers complex, but the letters on the outside still read Stark Tower. This universe might not have gotten the chance to ever get its Avengers, so there is no one to fight off a corrupted Rogers except the TVA, too little and too late.

“I see him,” Loki shouts suddenly, pointing towards a figure moving through the rubble. “Amazing, his hair shines even in a bonfire.”

You don’t have it in you to laugh, but surge forward recklessly. You have to see, you have to know, is it him? Could it be? As you draw closer, you’re certain that you see him, that Steve is here after all this time. A lump rises in your throat utterly unrelated to the pollutants clogging the air. You’ve missed him for so long, and now he’s right in front of you.

Mobius flings out an arm, stopping you short. “Wait,” he says. “He’s a variant, Y/N. Remember that.”

You come thundering back to reality at his words. When you look again, Steve isn’t standing there harmlessly, but holding an unconscious figure in his arms, the head thudding lifelessly against his bicep. This is the real Steve right now, someone you could never recognize.

Two of the TVA agents hurry forward, attempting to cuff him, but Steve brushes them aside easily, even after Loki and Mobius try to enter the fray. Suddenly, the situation looks like you’ll lose it for good, until a wild, terrible idea occurs to you and you shout out to him, “Steve!”

Instantly, Steve’s whole body goes rigid, and he starts scanning the area frantically. “Y/N?” He calls out.

He sounds like a madman, that’s the first thought that rises to your mind. His eyes are wide, his syllables unsettled. You rip off your helmet and Steve turns to you as if he’s seen a ghost.

“Y/N?” He repeats again, this time far more quietly, the words all but disappearing on the smoke-burnt wind.

Steve starts to reach out a grimy hand to you, but one of the TVA agents surges up behind him, jamming a syringe in his neck and knocking him out cold. Cuffs are tightened around his wrists moments later, and Mobius conjures up the requisite Timedoor straight to a holding cell back in the TVA. Everyone starts filing away, but takes you a few more moments to gather yourself together long enough to follow them.

Once back in the halls of the TVA, lights buzzing cheerfully overhead, Loki turns to you at last. “The move with the helmet was risky,” he chastises.

You can’t focus on the rebuke. “He knew me,” you whisper. “He knew me, and he stopped fighting.”

Loki’s lips thin. “That’s not Steve,” he says. “Not the one you know, at least.”

You steal a glance towards the locked door of the cell anyway. “I have to talk to him.”

Loki’s expression shifts from frustrated to simply tired. “I know.”

Still, you’re not blind to the wishes of the TVA, and you let Mobius go in to talk to Steve first. You decide it’s probably best if you’re not the first face he sees, and if you’re not going, Loki would be an even worse choice, so it’s Mobius alone in there with a few guards for security. He barely makes it ten minutes before he comes storming out again, though, obviously frustrated.

You could hear shouting outside the cell and down the hall, but still, you’re curious enough to ask Mobius, “What happened in there?”

Mobius drags an irritated hand through his hair. “Your little hero isn’t really the talking type.”

You frown. “That’s unlike him.”

“All of this is unlike him,” Loki intercedes. “You really couldn’t get through to him, Mobius? That’s startling. Surely there’s some sort of homegrown charm you could pull on him to twist his mind in your favor.”

“That’s just called manners,” Mobius frowns, “but no, I tried. He refuses to talk to anyone but Y/N.”

Loki swings around to stare at you curiously. “Fascinating. He left you and now he won’t even indulge in a friendly conversation with the authorities. What sort of Captain Rogers is this?”

You roll your eyes to hide your growing discomfort. “Forget that. Are we going to give in so fast? Don’t tell me you’re the type to give up on interrogating a suspect after less than half an hour.”

Mobius shrugs. “We might as well let you in. Might learn something, he doesn’t seem inclined to give us anything else otherwise. Why waste more time?”

You might argue a little harder were it not for the fact that you’ve been dying to see Steve since he got here. Before that, really. You’ve been wanting to talk to him since he left you in the first place. Maybe it’s not the best strategy for dealing with a variant, but in your heart, he’s still Steve, and always will be.

Steve’s head is down when you enter the cell, but it flies up the second you take a seat opposite him. He’s sitting down, hands cuffed behind him, but you have no doubt that he could free himself in a heartbeat if he tried.

Still, he isn’t trying. He’s just looking at you, eyes wide, mouth a little agape, as if he really can’t believe it’s you even after demanding to meet. “Y/N?” He asks quietly.

You nod. “Steve.”

Your voice seems harsh in the hollow stillness of the TVA cell. Steve doesn’t flinch, but he might as well; his eyes gain a thin veneer of hurt you’ve known since the forties.

“You’re not my Y/N, though,” he decides. “You know, I never really believed in the whole multiverse thing. Strange tried to explain it to me after Thanos, but I just thought it was a bunch of crap. No way there were a million versions of us. But I’ve met enough of you and me to know otherwise now.”

Your heart feels heavy in your chest. “You’re referring to all of the universes you hijacked.”

“Hijacked,” Steve muses. “That’s a strong word.”

You fold your arms across your chest. “You entered universes that were not your own and caused chains of events that led to destruction of that world, every single time.”

It horrified you, looking at the footage. Every single universe was the same: heroes gone or killed, skies full of smoke, thousands of dead. Everywhere Steve went, chaos followed him. It felt impossible, but it was true. Shockingly, awfully, it was true.

Steve’s eyes go dark. “That wasn’t my intention.”

“But it still happened,” you point out. “And you saw it happen but you kept going in more universes anyway. Why? Why didn’t you stop?”

Anger sparks in Steve like a match to gasoline. “I wasn’t trying to tear the universes apart, I was just trying to go back home,” he spits. “I couldn’t find the way back. I didn’t realize how delicate the multiverse was. Maybe that means you guys are bad at your job if a few detours can send the whole thing spiraling.”

The jab doesn’t even land, you’re too distracted by what he said before it. “You– you were trying to go back? Back where?”

A thundercloud of emotion passes over Steve’s face. “Back to the present,” he says softly.

He looks like he wants to keep talking, but he glances sharply back at you again and cuts himself off. “What does it matter to you, anyway? You’re just another version of you. What universe are you from, anyway? One where you leave instead of me?”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” you whisper. “You have no idea who I am, Steve.”

He laughs bitterly and shakes his head. “No. No, I know you’re not my Y/N. My Y/N never would have agreed to go in the same room as me.”

He straightens up suddenly. “Say– you’ve seen all the endings of the timeline, right? Is there any– are there any universes where you forgive me? Where I’m able to go back?”

Your breath feels faint in your chest. “You want to know if you ever go back to the present?”

He nods. “Surely I could do it at least once. Don’t tell me it never happens. And if I do, don’t say you hate me for leaving.”

His face, suddenly pleading, makes you almost sick to your stomach. “I don’t know,” you whisper. “I never looked. I was too afraid that you would have left me for nothing.”

Steve draws back suddenly, looking at you with a fresh wave of curiosity. “You mean– Y/N. You’re the one I left? How did you get here?”

You nod. “I was lonely after you disappeared. I needed something to do. But Steve– I thought you would stay in the forties. Why would you ever go in the first place if you were just going to leave again?”

Steve looks stricken. “I thought I would like it better back then. I wanted to go home, but Y/N, I was wrong. The forties weren't home, you were. I realized it after a few months. Nothing felt right without you. I tried to go to our present day again, but it had been too long since I jumped and I couldn’t figure it out. I tried finding Strange, but of course he hadn’t been born yet, and I was sent into another universe instead of ours.”

You shake your head slowly. “I don’t understand. If you were trying to get back, why destroy all those universes?”

“I wasn’t trying to destroy them,” Steve says lowly, “I was trying to get you back. Only– you’re pivotal to all of this, and you don’t even get it. If the Avengers formed without us, they wouldn’t make the decisions needed to stop the Chitauri, or save the world from Thanos, or anything.”

You comprehend it all at last. “You weren’t destroying the multiverse, you were meddling with the timeline. Of course. The TVA always insisted on the danger of even the smallest variant. I get it now.”

“I made a mistake by leaving, Y/N,” Steve tells you. “I’m trying to make it right. Will you let me?”

And, looking at him in the low fluorescent lights of the TVA, you ask yourself if there’s still a place in your heart for the man you’ve known all your life. It’s been a long time since you saw him. It’ll be longer still before you forgive him for leaving in the first place. However, there’s not many people like you in this world or the next. You have Steve back at last. How could anyone not take a chance like that?

marvel tag list: @mayfieldss, @blondsauduun, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv, @callsign-scully, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @eclliipsed, @23victoria, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @gods-fools-heroes, @w1shes43, @deafsuperhero, @fadedver, @alex-1967s-blog, @crazyhearttragedy, @faerieroyal

all tags list: @wordsarelife, @supervoldejaygent

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juiles · 22 days ago

Text

Christmas with the moms

Requested: no

Summary: christmas with our family

Tags: fluff, christmas

Triggers: one mention of the red room.

Requests here. Masterlist here. Tag list here.

A/N: i’m baaaaaaaaaack.

Y/n POV

I sat staring at the giant green tree in front of me, unsure of what was going on. My moms had mentioned something about Christmas but I had no idea what that was. When they came in carrying a couple of boxes I finally looked up at them in confusion. “What is all this again?” I asked quietly, picking at my finger nails. I hated that i didn’t know what this was because it seemed so normal for everyone else.

“It’s Christmas detka.” Wanda said distracted as she put the box down and opened it up looking through. I simply hummed as Natasha did the same. They started placing little figurines and balls on the tree as well as some lights.

I didn’t know what to say. What to do besides watch them. Natasha put on some music that kept mentioning this Christmas thing. I had a faint smile on my face as i watched the two of them dance around together as they placed things all around the room.

It wasn’t until Wanda spotted me that she paused, looking at me quizzically, her head tilting slightly, confusion all over her face. “Why aren’t you helping detka?”

“I- well i-“ I stuttered out trying to blink back the tears that were forming. “I-“ I picked at my nails as i dropped my gaze, the tears finally breaking through. How could i tell them i have no idea what they are talking about or what’s going on? It seems like such a normal thing. The rest of the team had been talking about it recently as well. I was the only one who didn’t understand.

I felt a pair of hands grab mine as my vision blurred from the tears. One of the hands cupped my chin and pulled my head up to face them, I blinked once allowing the tears to fall and saw the face of my sokovian mother. “Darling. What’s going on? Why the tears?”

We both looked over at Natasha when we heard her whisper. “She doesn’t know what Christmas is… how could I forget?” She sat beside me, and placed an arm over my shoulder. “I am so sorry malyshka. I should have remembered.” I nodded looking back down at my hands that were currently being held by Wanda’s soft hands, her thumb stroking the back of my hand subconsciously.

“In the r- that place where i was raised, we didn’t do christmas. i didn’t have a life before there…” I muttered, more tears falling, sniffling afterwards. Wanda almost fell, barely catching herself as she looked at me. “It looks fun I just… don’t know what to do.” I shrugged.

“Oh detka… i didn’t know… i’m so sorry…” Wanda said cupping my face, her thumb wiping the tears. “It’s alright. We’ll tell you all about it. Hmm?”

I felt Natasha hold me just a little tighter as I nodded looking at my blue eyed mother. “Please momma.” A small smile graced her face as she sat on the other side of me.

They explained the story of how christmas came to be and I was left with more questions. “So… we celebrate for what exactly?” I asked, my brain going a mile a minute.

“We, as your parents, celebrate Christmas for being together, for getting to be our family and be with each other. For love and happiness. This year, we’re celebrating you detka. Your first christmas with us, you being our daughter.” Natasha said tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

I smiled widely at that and looked up at them. “To being together.” I whispered before throwing myself into her arms. “A family mama.”

“A family malyshka.” She responded, kissing my head. Wanda then pulled me over and kissed my head as well.

“For everything you have overcome this year. And your life.” She said smoothing my hair down. I nodded looking over at the tree that they finished. “We’re just missing the star at the top of the tree detka. Would you like to put it on?” Wanda asked walking over to the box. She pulled out a silver star with gold details on it.

Natasha’s POV

Wanda and I were so excited for our first christmas with our daughter. We had brought the tree yesterday and today we brought out the decorations. “What is all this again?” I heard a soft whisper come from the young girl on the couch.

“It’s christmas detka.” Wanda replied as she dug through the box she had brought in. I went over to the radio after hearing a small hum and put on a christmas music playlist. Wanda and I started decoration the tree, we got so caught up with the music and dancing and decorating, neither of us noticed that y/n wasn’t helping.

Wanda stopped and tilted her head making me stop. “Why aren’t you helping Detka?” She asked, I turned to face the young girl and my heart froze as her green eyes teared up.

“I well- I” She looked down and i noticed tears starting to fall. “I-“ My heart stopped as I realized what was happening. She didn’t know. She didn’t know what christmas was or the traditions or anything. Of course she doesn’t. She was raised purely in the red room. Like me, she had no life before and unlike me, she never went on missions that were over a christmas.

“She doesn’t know what Christmas is… how could I forget that?” I muttered, a lump forming in my throat. How could I have forgotten? That was such a rookie move! She must feel awful! I ran over to her and sat beside her, one arm naturally drifting up and holding her shoulders. “I am so sorry malyshka. I should have remembered.”

“In the r- that place where i was raised, we didn’t do christmas. I didn’t have a life before there…” She mumbled, Wanda stumbled when she heard that. “It looks fun I just… don’t know what to do.” She shrugged slightly making my arm go up slightly.

“Oh detka… i didn’t know… i’m so sorry…” Wanda said cupping her face, her thumb wiping the tears. “It’s alright. We’ll tell you all about it. Hmm?”

I pulled our daughter a little closer to me as she stared at my girlfriend with hope in her eyes. “Please momma.” Wanda smiled as she sat next to the girl.

Wanda’s POV

My heart shattered as the sweet girl in front of me told me about not knowing about Christmas.

After we told her about christmas, she naturally had some questions. “So… we celebrate for what exactly?” She asked and i could practically see her brain going a mile a minute.

Y/n smiled widely at that and looked up at us. “To being together.” She whispered before throwing myself into Nat’s arms. “A family mama.”

“A family malyshka.” Nat responded, kissing her head. I then pulled her over and kissed her head as well.

“For everything you have overcome this year. And your life.” I said smoothing her crazy hair down. She nodded looking over at the tree that we had finished. “We’re just missing the star at the top of the tree detka. Would you like to put it on?” I asked walking over to the box. I smiled and pulled out a silver star with gold details on it. A star that reminded me of our beautiful girl.

“We had it specially made for this year.” I said looking at the three initials engraved into the middle. N, W, Y. Our little family.

Y/n looked up at me and cautiously stood, making her way over to me, i held it down so she could see and the biggest smile we had seen in a while graced her face. “That’s my initial there too!” She said, her eyes shining like the star she now held in her hands. She looked excitedly between Natasha and I before she looked up at the tree.

Nat came over and scooped her up, placing her on her shoulder, a squeak coming from the younger girl. She placed the star on top and as Nat put her down, i wrapped my arms around her and pressed a kiss into her hair. “Perfect. Just like our girl.”

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nattyswhore · 2 years ago

Text

“Mommy? Sorry… my other Mommy.”

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

summary: you ran out of gravy in the middle of a dinner with your family and your girlfriend so you decided to ask your mommy to get it for you which quickly turned into an awkward moment for everyone.

warnings: use of term ‘mommy’, thats about it?

***

Natasha’s hand rested on your thigh, holding a glass of red wine with the other as she let out a small laugh at a story your Aunty was telling.

You stared at her dreamily, admiring how peaceful she looked, enjoying how well she got along with your family and as if she noticed a pair of eyes watching her, her head snapped to the right and suddenly her green orbs were staring right back at yours.

She raised an eyebrow before giving you a teasing smile and a quick squeeze on your thigh, “Do I have something on my face, milaya?”

A teasing tone was laced in her voice making you roll your eyes playfully, “Can’t I just admire my sexy girlfriend in peace without needing a reason?”

“You’re such a sweetheart, darling.“ She hummed, a small smile playing on her lips. “Always know how to flatter me.”

“I just love how you get along so well with them already,” You said gently, referring to your family. “I knew they’d like you but I didn’t know they would like you this much. I mean have you seen the way my cousin has been staring at you ever since we got here?” You teased. You noticed how your married cousin was practically drooling over the redhead which you couldn’t blame her for, not when your girlfriend was this gorgeous.

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes, a playful smirk forming on her lips. “I mean what can I say, baby? what’s not to like?”

You giggled at her and slapped her arm softly. She wasn’t wrong, what isn’t there to like? She was a 32 year old successful woman that owned a multimillion dollar company with a personality and green eyes that can capture anyone’s attention, what more can you say? Your girlfriend just had a way with everyone, she was a natural with people.

You turned to your food and grabbed your fork, you were just about to stuff another mouthful of mashed potaoes in your mouth before realizing you had ran out of gravy.

A small frown formed on your lips before looking for the brown sauce. You saw it sat right in front of your mom, who was sitting a few seats to your left on the other side of the table so you figured you could easily ask her for it.

You leaned towards her side, slightly leaning onto Natasha’s arm in the process before asking, “Mommy, can you pass me the gravy please?”

Your mom nodded, quickly reaching out to grab the sauce but right as she grabbed the handle, another hand grabbed the other end as well.

Both hands paused as your brows furrowed for a second before realizing what just happened. Oh shit, you thought as you slowly turned to your left with wide eyes and saw Natasha reaching out for the gravy.

She thought you were talking to her.

You noticed she was already staring back at you with a similar expression before turning back to your mom and back at you again, a blush on your cheeks starting to form when you realized everyone in the table was now staring at you guys.

“I think she meant her actual Mommy, Natasha.” One of your cousins giggled, making your face flush red and the redhead looking like a gaping fish before pulling her hand back quickly and muttering a quick sorry.

Your family seemed to have caught on when your Auntys and Uncles formed O’s with their mouth while your cousins tried not to bust out laughing, making you internally groan already knowing the teasing that’s about to come after dinner.

You turned to your girlfriend and gave her a subtle glare only she would understand that said “You’re dead.” She was about to say something but you cleared your throat and grabbed the gravy from your mom, not daring to look at her and your dad’s eyes.

You knew they were going to have a word with both of you later, you basically just outed a piece of your sex life during a dinner with your whole family for Gods sake. You internally slapped your forehead, already preparing to lecture Natasha when you get home.

Your family was never going to let you live this down.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x you #marvel imagine #black widow imagine #natty #avengers oneshot #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff x you #wlw post #wlw oneshot

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oneshotnewbie · 11 months ago

Note

Can you do a natasha romanoff one shot, where she has a younger sibling and they get injured on a mission?!

ᕚ---ᕘ

The mission took place in a dilapidated warehouse, the rooms of which are filled with dark shadows and wild flames. Natasha moved silently through the dark corridors, followed by you. Your goal: Recover highly explosive information that has the potential to shake the world if Thanos gets his hands on it.

You both move smoothly and nimbly, each step calculated and careful. The tension was heavy in the air as you delved deeper into the dark interior of the abandoned facility. The faint glow from the Fire of Destruction barely illuminated your path as you moved forward amid the eerie danger. "Y/n, stay close to me. We have to be careful."

You nodded and followed her on tiptoe, feeling your way forward carefully, the tension literally palpable. Suddenly a loud crash breaks the silence. "What was that?" you asked and Natasha abruptly slowed her pace. She raised a hand to make you stop and still, listening into the darkness. An ominous silence follows before armed guards dart out of the darkness. A moment of silence is shattered by an intense battle and chaotic gunfire.

The shots echoed through the halls as you reflexively ducked for cover. You use every skill you learn to resist the guards' attacks. But in the confusion you didn't notice the security guard creeping up from behind. Several shots cut through the air and you are hit. You fell to the ground, a pained scream escaping your lips.

“Y/n!” your sister shouted in horror, reacting immediately, but every step seemed to be in slow motion. She desperately fights her way through the enemies to get to you. When she finally reached you, her heart sank as she saw the blood stains and trickling blood on your clothes. The smell of lead and fear mingled in the thick, dust-filled air.

"N-nat, it hurts so much," you gasped in pain and the redhead held your hand tightly as she tried to stay calm, looking for a way to connect back with the others and get you onto the jet to take you to Bruce at the base. "Stay with me, sladost'. Everything will be fine. I promise."

You struggled to breathe as Natasha tried to stop the bleeding, pressing her fingers hard on two of the wounds. Every second felt like an eternity as she struggled to steady you while the battle raged on around her. Her heart was pounding against her chest, anger at hurting you fueling her.

"Y/n, listen to me. You have to stay strong, understand? As soon as the others are finished with the mission, we'll get you out of here together," she spoke firmly and you tried to smile, but the pain was too much. Your sister pressed harder on the wound to stop the bleeding as she screamed desperately through the comms. "I need help here, y/n is seriously injured!"

"Hold on, we'll be with you in a moment," Captain America replied seconds later, but when she finally heard the sounds of helicopters from outside filtering through the walls of the warehouse, she knew that her time was limited and working against her. Worry about you made her tremble inside as she frantically waited for the other Avengers to arrive.

"You can do this. Just stay with me. Please, stay with me," she pressed harder on the wound, her voice a quiet promise of hope for her beloved sister. You, on the other hand, just nodded weakly as your eyelids grew heavier. Natasha fought back tears. "Stay awake, please."

The quinjet lights burst through the windows and Natasha felt a touch of relief. Their team had taken out every guard and other helicopters and were now arriving to take you away for much-needed medical attention. The mission may be completed and the goal achieved, but the worry for you were stronger than the happiness about the outcome of the mission.

ᕚ---ᕘ

Natasha rushed towards the Avengers base with you in her arms and immediately towards Bruce Banner. You were pale, your breathing shallow, and the blood on your suit was a frightening reminder of the danger you had just escaped. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest as she hoped, with racing thoughts and a nagging feeling of fear, for the medical help she knew she could find here.

As she ran in, she saw him already standing ready to take over your treatment. Her steps were rushed and her gaze pierced the young man as he ripped you from her arms and placed you carefully on the table.

Her heart ached with worry, but she forced herself to remain calm so as not to scare you further as she felt your half-open eyes on her. Thoughts raced through her mind, the memory of the scream of pain echoing in her mind. She was caught between the need to be strong and the urgent desire to break down and cry. "Nat, you'd best get out now,"

But she didn't listen to Bruce and just stood there, her eyes fixed on you while he took care of you. The hand at her side clenched into a fist, a desperate attempt to contain the emotions raging wildly within her. Fear, guilt and despair fought for dominance in her mind.

As he begins to cut through your clothes, she is dragged outside by Tony and Steve, reality like a leaden cloak in front of her eyes. The world seemed to stand still as she forced herself to breathe deeper and control her emotions. Her thoughts were with you and with all the things she still wanted to say and share with you. The burden of responsibility weighed heavily on her as the eldest sister and protector. Natasha bit her lip to hold back the tears that stung the edges of her eyes.

But it was the powerlessness that tormented her the most. The feeling of not having done enough to protect you. A feeling of loneliness crept into her thoughts as she waited outside the room for Bruce to give her an update on your condition.

The minutes stretched out like hours, and every second without information about your condition felt like a slap in the face. The insecurity was gnawing at her, and she just wanted reassurance that you were on the mend.

Finally, after long hours, he stepped out, his face neutral, but the seriousness in his eyes told her the gravity of your situation. Natasha's heart stopped as she prepared for the worst, ready to accept any news as long as you were okay.

"She is stable. The bullets didn't hit anything vital, but I had to take out her gallbladder. She lost a lot of blood and is unconscious, but she will recover," he said the words that were like a release for Natasha. Relief flooded through her, followed by an endless feeling of gratitude for Bruce, who had fought for your sister's life. "You can go to her if you want."

Her eyes wandered back to the treatment room and she felt like a statue, caught between the desire to be with you and the need to give you rest so you could get back on your feet.

Natasha's heart continued to beat fast, but now it was the hope that you would make it that influenced her racing heartbeat. "Thanks, Bruce. For everything." She said in a whisper and threw herself into his arms before deciding to go to you and hold your hand until you woke up again.

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justanoasisimagines · 2 months ago

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Going to a Farmer's Market with Bucky Barnes

Hey my lovelies, back with another Headcanon. My requests are open for everything except fics. You can find my request guidelines pinned to the top of the page! Credit to cafekitsune for the banner and the divider!

❀Bucky loves going to the farmers market with you. He loves the normalcy of the situation. He gets to spend quality time with you.

❀Although, if Bucky had one critic he's not overly fond of going when things are crowded. Bucky can imagine too many situations where things go wrong.

❀Bucky notes how different farmers' markets were back in for forties. They weren't as mainstream.

❀Bucky would go around and try all the free tasters. He'd purchase anything he likes. With the super serum, he finds himself hungry frequently.

❀Bucky insists on holding all the bags. He's a gentleman, you're not going to lift a finger if he can help it.

❀Bucky likes to cook, he finds it a way to relax. He uses a way to relax so he would use it to come up with meals for the following week.

❀Bucky keeps his head down because he still gets worried about people recognising him. He'll wear a baseball cap because he likes to keep a low profile.

#marvel imagine #marvel imagines #marvel oneshot #marvel one shot #Bucky Barnes imagines #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes one shot #Bucky Barnes oneshot #Avengers imagines #Avengers imagine #Avengers oneshot #Avengers one shot #Headcanons #Requests are open

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kaunis-sielu · 3 months ago

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Garden Witch: 2

Bucky is back in a week. A large smile on his face,

“Hey Doll.”

“Bucky. Welcome back.”

“The plan is going so much better than I expected. He’s been telling everyone he’s got an admirer. So I’m gonna need a new bouquet. Do whatever you want.”

“Okay.” You tell him with a laugh, “how about rhododendron, buttercups and some white cyclamen.”

“Whatever you think is gonna look good Doll.” He says shoving his hands into his pockets.

“So the cyclamen is separation, rhododendron is a warning and buttercups are childishness.”

“Perfect.” He says with a grin and you roll your eyes fondly at him. You gesture for him to follow you back to your flowers then get to work on the bouquet.

“Can I see your magic again?”

“You’d want to?”

“If you don’t mind.” He says shoving his hands into his pockets. It’s oddly sweet that he wants to see your magic again, on purpose this time.

“Why don’t I show you something a little different?” You ask before leading him to the back of your greenhouse. There’s an empty pot, or so it seems, you’d planted some daisy seeds in there earlier because you needed them for an upcoming wedding. You use your magic to pull the flowers gently out of the seeds, growing them in seconds rather than weeks and when you look over at Bucky he has a look of awe on his face.

“Could you weaponize that?”

“Probably. But I don’t see why I would want to.”

“Being connected to me is dangerous. I want to know that you can protect yourself if you need to.”

“Oh.” You’re touched by his concern, but also a little confused. You’re no more connected to Bucky than you are any other customer. “I should be just fine.” You tell him as you begin on the bouquet for him. When it’s finished you hand it off to Bucky and he studies you for a second.

“I think I need another bouquet.”

“Oh, okay for Sam?”

“No, I’d like it to say I like you, I would like to take you on a date.”

“Ah, so romantic feelings?”

“Yes please.”

“How about just different colored roses. I’m assuming you want them to know what the flowers mean?”

“I do.” He agrees so you pull a few red roses, a few pink and a few black for some drama then after putting it together give it to him.

“I won’t take free this time.” He warns as you walk back into your shop and you laugh softly.

“Okay, okay.” You charge him for the flowers, he pays and then with a smile heads out of the shop. You’re about to go back to the greenhouse again when the door opens and Bucky comes stalking back into your shop, bouquet in his hand and determination on his face.

“Is everything okay?”

“These are for you.” He says handing you the rose bouquet, “and I’d like to know if you’d go out with me next Saturday.” You blink at him for a second before a smile crosses your face.

“I’d love to.” You tell him taking the flowers from him, “thank you for the flowers.”

“Of course my little flower witch.” He says with an easy grin and a wink. “I can pick you up here?”

“Perfect. Seven?”

“Six thirty?” He counters and you laugh then nod,

“Six thirty.”

Tag list:

@andahugaroundtheneck @also-fangirlinsweden @pagina16ps @princesssterek @valsworldofcreativity @dumblani @inkedaztec @loving-life-my-way @animegirlgeeky @shinycupcakebaker @eralen @sophham @gh0stgurl @killcomet @wonderlandfandomkingdom @abschaffer2 @sass-masterkittenmama

#witch challenge #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky x witch reader #october #marvel one shots #avengers oneshot #avengers imagine

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http-shield · 17 days ago

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getting matching pyjamas with bucky for christmas that only further fuel the speculation that you two are in fact dating and not just fiends and roommates because “friends don’t have matching couples pyjamas” tony remarks as he watches you wrap the gift box containing bucky’s half of the set.

“you and bruce have matching pyjamas?”

“we have matching t-shirts that we got on a trip to disney world, we don’t have matching silk robes.” Tony takes a bite of his apple to punctuate his point.

“they’re not silk robes.” you rolls your eyes, taping the last flap of paper. “you don’t pay me enough to afford silk robes.”

“so you admit it’s a couples set!” he slams a hand on the table, his brows raised as eyes wide.

“it’s not a couples set. It’s two friends wearing the same pyjamas because we are grown adults who can have a platonic relationship without any implication of something sexual.” you find yourself growing defensive at Tony’s persistence that your relationship to Bucky is anything but innocent but that would only fuel his assumptions so you take a few breath and stand, collecting the tape and scissors and perfectly wrapped gift in your arms and walk away from the situation knowing that your silence and lack of engagement aggravate him more than if you were to snap back.

“i know you two are boning.” he shouts after you, words muffled around another bite of apple. “you can’t hide it from me forever!”

#http shield ♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #avengers fanfic #avengers oneshot #avengers fanfiction #cute lil avengers fic #idk what this is

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pietropatrol · 7 months ago

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The Love You Want (Part 1/2)

A/N: Long time no see.

Pairing: Pietro x Reader

Warnings: Smut right out of the gate, sexual content, pining idiots, idiots who won’t communicate their feelings, language, angst, past trauma, jealousy

Words: 5,582

It was hard to not be bewitched by him. His half-lidded were partially obscured by a mess white-blonde hair, and his lips parted as he panted and tried not to fall apart below you.

But maybe it wasn't exactly him? Maybe the power you had to do this to him was bewitching? It was a slightly comforting thought. It put you in control.

You pushed his hair back, lacing your fingers through and pulling.

Pietro moaned and tightened his grip on your hips making you hum in appreciation. You tugged his head to the side to expose the underside of his sharp jawline.

Your lips latched to the sensitive dip just below his ear and jaw.

A string of curses in his native tongue vibrated in his throat. Something about you and the devil. Your Sokovian was still pretty basic.

Your hips collided at a more frantic pace and you unrelentingly nipped and sucked as you gave a rough tug of his hair for good measure.

"Fuck." English this time. “Fuck!

His hips stuttered and slowed. You continued to roll your hips, repaying the favor of him teasing out your own orgasm just moments earlier. You relished the way his thumps swirled lazily on your hip bones as he caught his breath.

Against your better judgment, you curled into him, chests rising and falling rapidly into one another.

"We have a brief in an hour." Pietro burst the bubble. He was already detangling himself from you, leaving apprehension in his wake as you kept yourself from locking your limbs around him.

"Yeah, I should probably go Shower." You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and looked down to your knees. It was getting harder to ignore the storm of emotion swirling in your chest.

Post-sex tended to end this way now. You need to nuzzle into Pietro afterwards was near desperate.

But he didn't like that. It was clingy. At least for your casual arrangement. Friends with benefits. Snuggling beyond the haze of orgasms was over the friend line. This was just a convenience.

Neither of you had to go out and find a stranger when the urges hit. There was no need for the small talk and making sure the one-night stand wasn't a psycho.

Pietro was here and you were just down the hall. You trusted one another and knew each other’s likes and dislikes. And importantly, unbelievably sexually compatible.

…Aside from your need to be held afterwards.

In a quick breeze, your clothes landed in a pile next to you. Pietro had already retreated into the bathroom by the time you looked up.

Getting dressed was you second least favorite part. Half of your hookups occurred post training or missions. Your clothes were either still damp with sweat or dirty, and sometimes both.

With running Shoes in hand, you padded barefoot down the hall to your own suite. But not without escaping the judging eyes of Wanda. She leaned against her doorframe, as if expecting you to walk by.

"A little extra training, Y/N?" Wanda prodded.

Heat rushed to your face. "Just some extra weight training."

"We were supposed to get showered and get lunch before the brief." Wanda narrowed her eyes at you. "Of which neither you and my brother did.”

“Really needed, uh, a spotter. We lost track of time. But we still had enough time for both."

Wanda rolled her eyes and retreated into her and Vis' room, not wanting to get into an endless argument about Pietro and you again. The last time you had, Wanda ignored you for two weeks.

****

In the end, you did not have time for both a shower and eating lunch. You had wasted too much time overthinking and compartmentalizing in the shower.

With your hair still sopping wet and wearing a pair of mismatching socks, you raced to the conference room.

All eyes went to you. Apparently, you were the last to show and the most unkempt.

"I feel asleep," you said dumbly.

“In the shower?" Tony quirked an eyebrow.

“So, what if I did?" you snapped, surprising yourself and the team. At least three set of eyebrows had crept into hairlines. "Sorry, just tired is all.”

You avoided Pietro's gaze. It was searing into your chest. You rushed to your seat next to Nat.

"Are you going to be okay for tonight?" Steve asked, concern creeping into his voice.

"Tonight?" you echoed, looking to Nat, hoping for some clarity. The look you she gave you was not at all helpful. Her eyes loudly asked why the hell you didn't know.

"The Stark Industry sponsored charity gala with the highlight of all the Avengers showing up. The gala you promised me you'd make it to three months ago." Tony turned to inspect you.

"I did?" You didn't recall even talking to Tony about it.

Pietro covering a laugh with a cough broke your internal scramble. "Sorry, has to clear my throat.”

Your phone buzzed and you looked down to see a text from the culprit himself.

PIETRO: 🤖✊✊✊🚪😜😻😜🐈🥵🤫🥵🫢😫🫨

That made sense, it you vaguely remember with that play by play. Tony had come to talk to you about something when Pietro was short circuiting your mental state.

You had been trying to sound normal as Tony spoke with you through the door. But Pietro was unrelenting with his head burrowed between your legs. It was truly a miracle you could even get a coherent word out.

Your memory was rendered useless as you were on the edge of an Earth-shaking climax. Pietro had to throw his hand over your mouth to muffle your cry.

"I did!” You confirmed with a confidence you did not feel. "Sorry, I have a hard time with my memory."

This earned an eye roll from Wanda. To be fair to yourself, your short-term memory was a bit fuzzy. Some things were worse off after your fall from the helicarrier in DC in 2014. Namely memory, at least not strong memories, and anxiety.

“What are we raising money for again?" Nat interrupted the uncomfortable silence that had crept in when everyone knew enough as to why you memory was not that great.

"Local shelters,” Tony shrugged. "Pepper would be able to put together a more thorough list if you want?"

"And you want us to what exactly?” Steve said, “Since we are the highlight?"

"Schmooze your ass off. You should be good at that, it's your origin story." Tony grinned.

Steve shook his head. "It's at least for a good cause."

"When you say we, does that include Parker? "Bucky asked.

"My dutiful intern Peter Parker, who is not a part of the Avengers, and a very normal college kid. No." Tony played clueless.

" And spiderman?" Bucky added for clarification.

"Out trapezing his neighborhood, looking to stop crime. I don't know what Spiderman has to do with any of us. Sure, he'll help out occasionally, but he's his own separate entity."

"An ally," you mused.

Tony clapped. " Yes, thank you. Ally. Our ally Spiderman will not be in attendance tonight. But my intern Peter Parker and his friends who have no association with said Spiderman will be.”

****

"I can't believe you forgot". Nat rummaged through her closet, trying to find something that would fit you.

"I forget a lot of things these days,” you responded, distracted as you sat on her bed thumbing through a magazine.

"How is that, by the way? You've failed to bring up that it was still a big issue." Nat narrowed her eyes at a cream-colored gown then shook her head. The gown landed on top of a growing mound of rejected dresses.

"How come Clint isn't subjected to this?" You whined, stopping on an absurd article.

"You changed the subject. And Clint has a family and life outside of our shenanigans."

You chewed the inside of your cheek as your eyes involuntarily stung.

"Shit." Nat groaned. "Y/N. I'm so sorry.”

"No, it's fine, really." You swallowed the lump in your throat and tried to shake away the encapsulating grief. "It's been a decade, and you and Clint are my family. And you should be the last person to feel sorry for me." You focused back on the page. Nat had gone through 100 times the hell you had.

Sure, you had lost everything but your own life, barely, that day. But you and your parents had assumed the risk working for S.H.I.E.L.D..

They could have retired early and been professors in their studies. You could have lived nearby working as a nurse at the hospital. Not quiet, but not deadly. Most importantly, they would still be alive.

"They would be happy you survived and your ability—” Nat’s eyes caught on a shimmery, deep ocean blue, silk number and she grinned. "Perfect."

You hardly looked but agreed. Your eyes returned to being unfocused on the article.

"Y/N, what is so interesting?" Nat look over your shoulder. "Thirteen delightfully devious ways to blow his mind! Pique your interest there?” Nat smirked. The gown now hung from the full-length mirror in the corner of her room.

"Yeah right," you snorted. It was both a defense and a disguise. "Just keeping up with my peers.”

"I'm pretty sure your peers are not writing these articles. I cannot see anyone nearly in their 30s recommending to glue rhinestones around their pubic hair."

"Fair." You chucked the magazine and sized up the dress. "You know when I signed up to join the Avengers, I didn't see anything about being paraded around for money."

"You didn't sign shit. So now we're at the will and mercy of Stark because he funds our lifestyles. It can be fun. Though, I guess you don't have a date if you didn't know."

"Why would I need a date? As far as I'm concerned, I'm working." Your brows furrowed as you looked to Nat who was watching you closely.

"To help with conversation.”

"Do you have a date?”

‘No, of course not. Bucky and I are teaming up though. Which I realize may be a mistake now that I remember he is terrible at small talk,” Nat groaned.

You laughed at this. “So why don’t I go with one of the team?” A small voice inside whispered Pietro’s name.

"Thor is off planet."

"Lucky bastard."

"Bruce is tasked with trying to secure some data from a bioengineer."

"I can help Br—”

"No. I don't want you anywhere near Bruce for this. This bioengineer may have ties with Hydra—”

"Steve's gotta be available?” You quickly put the conversation back on the safer side.

"Steve is hitting up the major politicians and defense contractors with Sam. They are great for their PR. This would make you more visible if you joined."

You tensed. "That leaves Pietro and Peter. Platonically and professionally, of course.”

"Parker is not teaming up with any of us. You heard Stark, Parker’s just his intern. We don't want him associated closely to the Avengers,” she reminded you. "Besides, he'll have his girlfriend and friend with him. It'd be weird for you to hang out with college kids you supposedly barely know.”

“So, Pietro can be my date then.” You tried your best not to sound too pleased.

"I think he's taking that woman that writes the articles about him in that gossip magazine."

It was a bucket of ice water over your head. "That bitch?! The one who wrote that article about me being the most boring and clumsy Avenger featuring a picture of me spilling ice coffee on myself after a super sweaty, hot yoga class!?”

"Woah! It was just one article, right?" Nat shook her head, taken aback by your outburst.

"Oh no, far more unflattering pictures and articles. Somehow, it's only me getting the negative press. Why the fuck would he bring her? When he knows—” you cut yourself off to take a calming breath. "It'll be fine. But I swear to god, if a picture of me stuffing my mouth full of shrimp cocktails is featured next week, I will kill him."

"Relax, I don't think they could even get an unflattering photo of you in this if they tried." Nat held out the dress, grinning.

****

Nat may have been right. If Steve did a double take, in a very well-mannered, gentleman way, this dress was something.

The silk accentuated your shape and, in a daring first time move, you ignored the discomfort at having your scars exposed. The dress was backless with silk pooling in a “U” just above your ass. The cut outs at the curves of your hips trailed to just tastefully under your breasts. The slit up one leg reached your upper thigh. A small section of burns was visible if you settled your leg just right.

The large mass of your puckered skin did not see the light of day outside the tower. They were obvious and hard to ignore. The events leading up to the fall, and the fall itself, had imprinted on you in far too many ways.

"You look beautiful," Steve offered.

"Thank you." You graciously accepted for once in your life.

"Handsome as always boys." You included Bucky and Sam in this. Bucky you'd never seen out of sweats and black jeans for years. Him in a suit was quite jarring, in a good way of course.

"This does not look productive,” Tony teased, walking into the group with Pepper and Morgan. “These people aren't going to schmooze themselves."

"If I hear the word Schmooze one more time,” you murmured to Nat.

A low chuckle sounded behind you, and you turned to see the eerily groomed speedster in a tailored suit. The sight made you freeze and thankfully he was as dumbstruck by you. All the heat rose to your cheeks.

"Where's your date?" Pietro cocked his head, biting back a sly grin.

"You're an asshole for many reasons. This being one of them. You very well know—” You hissed, but caught sight of Sierra Lineheart, the damn gossip reporter, heading Pietro's way with two drinks in hand.

This was your queue to bolt in the opposite direction. If she couldn't see you, she couldn't report on you.

****

You were relieved to catch sight of 3 familiar college students standing next to a server with a tray of bruschetta. MJ was the first to notice your presence.

"Oh, hey Y/N. Long time no see."

"Hey, how's college?" You snagged a piece from the tray, wolfing it down in a single bite. God you were hungry. Why were you so hungry? Oh, right, you had let a stupidly sexy man distract you this morning.

This was all Pietro’s fault, he had made you miss lunch and he had basically made you blindsided by this event so you had no time to eat.

If Sierra Lineheart weren’t here, you would probably go to each tray and scarf down a few servings. So, your hunger was even more Pietro’s fault.

"College, you know how it is." Ned shrugged. You actually didn't, but nonetheless. You snuck another piece of bruschetta from the tray.

"Everything good?" Peter looked around suspiciously.

"Why wouldn’t it be?" You breathed, smoothing your free hand down the front of your dress.

"You seem very jumpy. Are you okay?"

"Do I? Yeah? Crowds. People. You know? Ahh! I, uh, need some fresh air." Your hands flailed as you talked, sending some of the tomatoes tumbling off the crostini. Peter snatched it out of your hand before it could do any damage. "Thanks. See you later."

You made a beeline for the balcony. It was thankfully empty as you gasped for air. Why were you upset suddenly? What was there to be emotional about?

You turned to go back inside but saw Sierra on Pietro's arm, a dazzling smile set naturally on her face as Pietro chatted energetically with the couple in front of them.

His gaze moved over to your direction, sending you diving behind a large potted plant.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice called out and footsteps headed your direction. “Did I just see you tactical roll into a shrub?”

You thanked the heavens that it was Bucky. He was the least likely person to mention it to anyone else.

“No,” you groaned from your hiding spot.

“You're avoiding somebody." It wasn't a question. It didn't have to be when you were crouched behind a shrub.

"Yes," you sighed.

Bucky extended his hand out to you. "You shouldn't hide. Especially in that dress.”

If it wasn’t Bucky, you'd think it was flirting. He was just a straightforward guy, and you knew him well enough to call him a friend.

"You're avoiding too." you argued but took his hand. He gently pulled you to your feet and out from behind the shrub.

“Yes, but it's everybody. Not a someone. I’m pretty sure our reasons are quite different." Bucky peered behind you through the glass doors. “Who could be sending our brave YIN into this state?"

"Brave?" you snorted. "Not brave."

Bucky frowned. "I've seen you throw yourself into an active combat zone without a thought, to heal one of us on many occasions.”

"It isn't brave when I know that I'll come out alive 99 percent of the time."

“It still hurts you and it still leaves scars." Bucky nodded to the small bullet wound just under your left clavicle…one of your many. "And I remember… that day… in DC."

You flinched and wrapped your arms around yourself.

"I saw you try to save your parents from him. I heard him offer to spare you and bring him with you if you let him do his mission. I heard that you loved him, but you still fought him. You took the serum and threw yourself—”

"Stop! In the end it didn't matter!” The tears were threatening to spill over. “It didn't save them."

"I'm sorry I didn't do anything to help." Bucky’s eyes were soft and full of regret when they shouldn’t have been.

This caused a hysterical giggle to escape you. "Bucky, that wasn't you. You didn't even remember Steve and he's your best friend. I was a stranger who wasn't on the right side of the mission and actively trying to thwart Hydra. I'm lucky you didn't step in a try to help kill me. I don't accept your apology because you don't owe me one."

"Fair, and I have to accept that," Bucky mused.

"Therapy?"

"My own personal list." He smiled wryly.

"Well thanks for thinking of me though. If you were you, you would have helped, and that's what matters."

"So let me help you now.” Bucky nudged you with his shoulder. “What can I do to make you not hide in a corner, and try and enjoy the night?"

You looked back into the ballroom. You easily caught the bright white hair in crowd. Pietro was looking bored into the distance as his date talked to some benefactor. "I don't know, just keep me—”

Sierra reached over to sensual run her hand up his bicep and he tensed, his face twisting in a brief sneer of disgust. You paused as the gears started to turn in your brain. Pietro recovered and forced on the fakest smile you had ever seen him give.

"That mother fucker!" You threw your hands in the air. "Oh my god, he's an idiot!"

"I'm sorry, who?"

"Pietro. He brought that gossip column woman as his date. He's trying to make me jealous."

"Jealous?" Bucky looked back and forth to the speedster and you, piecing it together. "Are you dating?”

"Exclusively casual,” you seethed, "for a while. But right now, it appears he’s messing that up by thinking it'd be a good idea to make me jealous. Especially with her. Wanting me to believe he would choose her over me?"

"That is stupid and highly childish,” Bucky observed.

You scoffed in agreement.

"Want to return the favor?" He tilted his head in Pietro's direction.

"How so?"

Bucky gave you a mischievous grin.

"A taste of his own medicine."

****

Bucky guided you to the bar, his hand resting on the small of your bare back. Your path happened to be directly in front of Pietro.

It was innocent to Pietro's sight at first. He immediately fixed his gaze on you when you'd come back in. He was drinking you in, while attempting to put in more of an effort not to not look annoyed by his date.

But then Pietro’s eyes noticed Bucky's hand placement and your proximity, and his lips twisted into a sneer. You gave a relaxed smile and leaned into Bucky's touch.

"This may be too easy. He's ridiculously possessive,” you murmured.

"And you’re only being casual, why?"

"It was hard for me to trust men in that sense. Pietro was my friend. I trusted him enough. But not enough to consider a relationship. Pietro also has trust issues. It was a mutual attraction and it just made sense.”

"And now? What's changed?" Bucky helped you into the bar stool, quietly ordering two Manhattans.

"We’ve been in this, whatever this is, for almost two years. One day he just started being distant. Like I was just a one night stand each time. I don't think I can call us friends anymore. Our interactions are limited to work, antagonizing each other, and sex with no intimacy. I don't even know if there is a point anymore—” You took a deep breath and caught Bucky's frown. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I just vomited all that information on you. I should keep that to my therapist or finally get the courage to talk to Nat about it. You don't want to hear my ridic—”

"Y/N, " Bucky interrupted, placing your drink in your hand and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. He had to pointedly ignore the glare starting to burn holes in his skull. "It is okay. It's definitely my 100-year-old man energy that makes you open up. And I'd like to think we're friends."

"I think we are."

"So, let me just put something out there, if you'll let me?” Bucky said softly.

“I'll allow it."

"You love Pietro."

You nearly choked on your drink. "What?"

"You've been exclusive for so long and even though he's been emotionally distant, you still stayed. If you didn't love him, you'd stop the arrangement because you're fed up."

"I-I, no, I don't think, I'm able to—" you scrambled to try and dissuade him from making any sense of your inner turmoil.

"You're scared, but not for the reasons you think. For once it's not because of your past. It's just normal. You're scared he may not feel the same, and that's okay. But maybe it's time you tell him?”

You rose an eyebrow at him, preparing to deflect. "You sound like a therapist.”

"You'd rather just his game than? Play jealously chicken until you obliterate your arrangement?" Bucky's tone was a warning.

"Yes,” you sniffed, feigning indifference.

"Okay." He watched you for a moment before giving you a warm smile. "As long as that's what you want. I won't mind pissing off Speedy."

You turned your body towards him, letting your thigh touch the inside of his.

"He started it," you breezed. "And with the worst person."

"Just remember that he is also going to be angry with you once this is all over,” Bucky grabbed your hand a placed a kiss on your palm.

"I'm already angry. So good. At least you're in on this. She thinks Pietro likes her. And I'm going to be the victim of the wrath if she finds out he used her for me."

You twirled Bucky's hand in your own, lacing your fingers together on top of the bar.

"He is ready to murder me," Bucky whispered in your ear. It looked pretty damning to anyone watching.

His hand trailed to touch the brush your hair from the back of your neck. One would think it would cause a rush of excitement being touched this way by Bucky. But it was not at all what you wanted. You would have been a puddle if it were Pietro. You leaned into Bucky’s touch to put on a show and looked up at him through your lashes.

“Not surprised, he does not like to share,” you smirked.

"You're good. But what are the odds he takes a swing at me?" Bucky’s thumb brushed your jawline.

"If you keep this up, highly likely. Though he has no right. He's made it abundantly clear tonight that it is nothing more than casual."

"What is going on here?" Nat saddled up the pair of you, looking back and forth.

"Act supportive," you said through a smile, placing a hand on Bucky's chest. "I'll explain later."

Shit, Nat was going to be pissed when she knew. But only because you kept it from her for a whole two years. Nat mimicked your bright smile and embraced the pair of you. "Why do I have a feeling I am going to want to kick your ass, Y/N?" she hissed.

"It'll be a funny story, so long as nobody else gets their asses kicked tonight."

"I make no promises. If he swings, I am going to swing back. I'm not going to let him get a hit in. He’ll become even more cocky,” Bucky said into your hair.

"I know, I wouldn't expect anything else of you Bucky. It'll be his fault. He brought her.”

Nat leaned casually against the bar, trying to glean something to clue her in to the conversation. She clocked the glare of a speedster with the conniving, piss poor example of a journalist in his company. Sierra was currently oblivious to Pietro's fixation.

"Y/N," Nat said through gritted teeth, "please, for the love of god, do not tell me you trying to make Pietro Maximoff jealous. Of all the people."

"I don't have to tell you. You just said it,” you mumbled into your drink.

"It's definitely working, he is eyeing me up." Bucky's hand went down to rest on your bare skin above your hip.

"He’s probably trying to remember which of your arms detaches.”

Bucky put on a good show of a real laugh, but it cut off abruptly. "If he tries that, Y/N, I will beat the shit out of him.”

You grimaced, maybe employing Bucky as your fake date was not a great idea. Pietro while improving, was still impulsive.

And he had been adamant that he didn't share…

Inserting Bucky may have been an explosive detonating in your face.

"Why would he even be jealous? It's not like you two—wait, are you two dating?" Nat glared at you.

"No."

"Exclusively casual is how she explained to me,” Bucky offered.

"That's honestly worse. You're fuck buddies? Since when?"

You tensed under your friend’s judgment. “Awhile."

"Y/N!”

"2 years,” Bucky added.

"I told you that in confidence!" You gaped at him.

"2 years?" Nat's voice rose. "All this time I've been trying to get you to hook up with anyone. But you've been with him, without any of us knowing?"

"Wanda does,” you grumbled.

"So, she's so cold with you because of this? You used to be friends, then you weren't?"

“She hasn't been too keen on the arrangement, no. Not sure—”

"Speedy is on the move," Bucky warned.

Pietro was nearly vibrating with rage as he approached. Sierra had to power walk to keep up with him. His eyes slid over Nat, to Bucky, and landed on you. His jaw clenched when he noted Bucky's hand still on your bare skin.

"Y/N, I'm sure you remember Sierra Lineheart. She does the Avengers articles. Sierra you know the team." Pietro never took his eyes off you.

"I'm very familiar. Good to see you all. Don’t worry, everything is off the record I am not here as press today." Sierra gave a giggle, leaning heavily into Pietro's side. He tensed and a wave of satisfaction crashed through you. That idiot.

He really was trying to make you jealous. But he was not comfortable with her. She wasn't a good option because she wasn't in on it. And he didn't trust her. He'd made the wrong move.

"You two look like absolute lovebirds. A romance in the team?" Sierra was far too jovial.

"How did this happen?" Pietro turned his icy glare on Bucky who gave a lazy smile in return.

"Yeah, you and Y/N? How could that happen?” It should have been an innocent question, but it felt like there was malicious intent behind it. Sierra had it out for you for one reason or another.

"Y/N is beautiful, smart, and she really cares about people. What is there to happen?" Bucky twirled a lock of your hair absentmindedly and gave a pointed look at Pietro. "Remember that time she healed you in the—”

Pietro paled a little as you felt the air rush out of your lungs at the mention of Pietro’s brush with death. Nat gripped your elbow, steadying the sway of your body. Bucky noticed and adjusted his hand further down your hip, squeezing to hold you in place.

A low growl rumbled in Pietro's chest; his trauma momentarily forgotten. That was his spot.

Had he not just been holding you there 8 hours ago? He would bet a month’s salary that small bruises had started to form. You loved that.

“So, Y/N, what battle are those scars from? From what I 've heard, you're more of a medic. Like the team nurse?" Sierra nodded to the prominent scarring just above Bucky's grip.

Pietro whipped his head to Sierra, incredulous.

"What? She put them on display. She wants people to ask." Sierra rolled her eyes.

Your jaw clicked. “Care to—”

“Yeah, we're going to go.” Bucky tried to steer you away from Pietro and Sierra, but Pietro‘s hand was around your wrist in a blink. Bucky was now two feet back from you.

"Can I speak to you?" Pietro growled and cast a glance at Nat and Bucky standing offensively. "Privately.”

You pulled your hand from his grasp and looked over his shoulder. Bucky made a hand gesture you interpreted as "go."

"Sure,” you acquiesced, letting Pietro lead the way.

His private place was an empty coat check. A sign on the counter stated they would be back in ten minutes. Pietro closed the shutters and whirled on you.

"What was that?" His nostrils flared. "You can't seriously be here with Bucky?"

"And why not? He's a perfectly respectable man," you defended your fake relationship. You weren't going to be the first to fess up.

"He's old enough to be your great-grandpa!"

You rose an eyebrow. “On paper? Sure. Physically? No. Is that your only concern? If so—” You made to move for the door.

Pietro appeared in front of you, pinning you to door.

You sighed and let your head fall back against the door. "I'm tired, Pietro. I'm tired of feeling like I’m just a warm body for you. I can't even call you a friend with benefits because we haven't been friends for a year."

Pietro looked at you sharply and opened his mouth to protest.

"When was the last we hung out outside of work or sex?” you interrupted. His answer was silence. “The day after you—” your voice got stuck in your throat. You cleared it and started over.

“The day after you almost died and I saved you, we were so close. Then the following morning—” An exasperated laugh came out of you as you shook your head. “it—it was like I was nothing to you. Like I was a stranger after a one-night stand."

The tears began to prick the corner of your eyes. "And then you kept pushing me away. Then you’d pull me right back to get off. Then poof, get out. I'm an idiot for letting you. But I was fucking desperate for any piece of you, so I always did. And every time I convinced myself that you won’t just toss me aside like the last time."

The tears were spilling over now. "Then you brought HER here! When you very well know she has some weird vendetta against me."

Pietro’s eyes were wide, but he still did not speak.

"Why?" You croaked. "Isn't what you're doing already enough? What do you think you have to do to me?" You wrapped your arms around yourself. “I told you I loved you that night. Which is a bit unfair because I said it while you were sleeping. But I said it out loud. Which was a big step for me.”

“Draga,” his said, his voice cracking. “I didn’t—”

The door to the coat room shoved open behind you and Nat’s head peaked in.

“Y/N? Tony’s looking for you. Something about some fancy doctor’s needing to be schmoozed with your medical knowledge.”

“Great.” You looked up at the ceiling, willing the waterworks to stop. “Thanks Nat.” You quickly made your escape. The room had started to feel like it was closing in around you.

“Y/N,” Pietro whispered. “I—”

“Don’t worry about it, Pietro. I understand okay. Best we just stop, right?”

You let go and walked away to do some goddamn schmoozing.

****

Read Part 2

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writtenfangirl · 2 years ago

Text

Tomorrow

Steve Rogers Fic

I wrote this fic because Chris Evans was declared People's Magazine World's Sexiest Man and it's been a year. I can't believe I only got around to finishing it now.

Y/N’s home could only really be called a villains lair.

It’s high cavernous walls; the gothic spires that towered over the lot; the human-sized gargoyles that lined the dark roof; and the dark exterior cut an imposing figure against the backdrop of the grey sky meeting the even greyer sea. It was perched high above a cliff, carved into the very stone of the mountain.

The frigid salty wind that bellowed from the sea had rain slapping against Steve’s suit, darkening it’s blue leather. He hated the miserable weather, the dark grey sky and the pelting rain reminded Steve of memories of the war that he would rather sooner forget.

But right now, he couldn’t care less.

His feet slapped against the gravel, taking him up to the foyer of Y/N’s home. The large oak doors of her home were slammed shut and Steve found his hands rapping against the wood. He could almost imagine the sound echoing around the cavernous house, up towards Y/N’s room.

Steve knew Y/N didn’t get many visitors and so his presence was an anomaly to her.

She had a sordid reputation after all, one that had her painted as an enemy of the Avengers.

But right now, Steve didn’t care about that.

In fact, all Steve could care about right now was Y/N.

“Y/N, open up!” He banged against the solid doors once again, his body a live wire of buzzing energy and adrenaline begging to be released.

He was met with silence.

The rain was beginning to pelt harder against his body, the wind howling in the distance. The storm was a big one, the biggest of the year if the news was right. Worry and panic seized Steve the moment he heard, his heart thrumming loudly in his throat. Y/N didn’t live in the friendliest of environments and though he knew she would loathe Steve for caring about her, he couldn’t help it.

“Y/N!”

Still no response.

He could break down the door. She’d hate him for sure but she’d always hated him. At least this way, he knew she was okay.

“Y/N, I swear—“

“Rogers?”

Her voice had been swallowed by the wind and if it wasn’t for his exceptional hearing, Steve wouldn’t have heard her lovely voice.

The relief that seized him nearly had his knees buckling to the ground. He spun, meeting Y/N’s E/C eyes, wide with surprised and confusion. Despite the hard sleets of rain that continued to rain down, she was perfectly dry, not a strand of hair out of place. Her face was perfectly made up, her lips painted a beautiful red, rouge streaking her cheeks. She looked wonderful and alive.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Y/N didn’t sound as furious as she usually did, simply confused. As if seeing Steve standing in her front door had stunned her to silence.

Steve didn’t care. He reached for her, relieved to find her hard and solid beneath her hands and not some ghostly apparition.

“There’s a storm,” Steve panted, eyes locking to Y/N’s own E/C ones, “biggest of the year. I-I thought… I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Her eyes fluttered in surprise. “You… you wanted to see if I was okay?”

Steve nodded, unabashed. He was glad to see that she was fine and there was no hiding the relief that had him straightening.

He knew he wasn’t suppose to care about her. She was the villain and he was a hero. He was suppose to hate her, capture her right now for whatever nefarious scheme she was no doubt plotting to take down the Avengers.

But he didn’t care about that right now.

He didn’t care about their roles and he certainly didn’t care about what his teammates would say or what other people would say. Right now, all he cared about was her.

Y/N seemed to hesitate before she pushed past him and opened her heavy front door as easily as if it was made of plastic.

A roaring fire was raging in the hearth of her living room, the smell of cookies baking in the oven like an invitation to Steve, begging him to enter through the threshold.

“Why don’t you come in?” Y/N said softly, waiting by the opened door. “Maybe wait for the storm to settle before you leave?”

Steve looked down at his sodden clothes, at the fat drops of water that dripped to the floor. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I might ruin your furniture.”

Y/N stretched out her hand towards him, her fingers hovering above his face. A strange warm sensation enveloped Steve, like a blanket had suddenly been wrapped around his shoulders. Steve looked down, his clothes suddenly dried. His hair, that was once plastered on his forehead, was now dry and fluffy and not a drop of water splashed on his shoes. In fact, even the puddle that had steadily gathered around his feet had been wiped cleaned, lightening the once dark wood. Magic was strange but there was no denying its benefits.

“Come on in.” Y/N stepped aside, her face impassive.

Despite racing here upon learning of the raging storm, Steve hesitated now. He’d never been inside of Y/N’s home and though their relationship was more or less antagonistic, it felt strange to have her invite him to her sanctuary. He felt like an intruder, rifling through Y/N’s innermost secrets in the hope of gleaning information to use against her in their next confrontation.

Thunder rumbled loudly above their heads followed by a flash of lightning that briefly illuminated Y/N’s features. She was peering at him through her lashes, her lips pursed as if she herself was unsure she should let Steve in. He wondered if she’d turn him away now.

Instead, she further leaned into the door, opening the entrance even wider. “I don’t bite. Well, I don’t bite hard. So come on in before I magic you into a deep sleep and you can have Stark kiss you awake.”

The smell of cookies continued to waft through the opened door and that was enough to convince Steve to get in.

He felt warm almost immediately, the chill that had previously gripped him suddenly chased away by the magic in the atmosphere. The smell of melted butter further saturated his nose, the warm fire raging in the living room permanently removing the chill of the outside world.

“Shoes off,” Y/N said as she removed her own shoes, placing it neatly on the shoe rack by the door.

Steve followed suit, desperately trying to remove the feeling of awkwardness that seized him.

Y/N walked into her home, not bothering to wait for Steve to follow her.

Despite the imposing exterior of Y/N’s home, the interior told a different story. It was warm and inviting, the walls painted a rich green and covered with beautiful paintings. Red velvet furniture was scattered all about the space, the most notable being the large floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that covered the right side of the room. It was filled with books and different sculptures decorated the empty spaces. There was even a medieval suit of armor between the shelves. There was a staircase to the left, leading to what Steve could only assume was the bedrooms. A lush carpet was laid before him, covering the whole expanse of the room.

Steve followed Y/N, who’d walked through the a door next to the fireplace.

The smell of baking cookies intensified, causing Steve’s mouth to water. He’d always had a bit of a sweet tooth and even now, in the presence of his enemy, he couldn’t deny the pang of cravings.

Y/N led them to a modern kitchen, one that was vastly different from the living room they’d just left. There was a kitchen island in middle with white leather seats lining the side and even a breakfast nook big enough for eight people towards the right. There was a TV on the farthest wall of the nook, turned off and quiet. The panels of the countertops were a gleaming marble, the walls painted a pretty light blue. There were two refrigerators, wide enough to fit at least two people inside and no doubt fully stocked with cooking ingredients and snacks. One of the counters was occupied by an espresso machine, as fully stocked as a busy cafe with equipment Steve didn’t know the name of scattered around the side. The stove was set on the other side, with eight burners set against shiny metal. There were two ovens below it, one of it lit and where no doubt the smell of baking cookies came from. There was a bookshelf to the side below the TV, filled with different cookbooks and some in languages Steve couldn’t understand. While the living room was warm and slightly dark, the kitchen was all light, the walls covered in windows that let in plenty of light even with the dark grey sky.

“I’m sorry for the mess. I wasn’t expecting guests,” Y/N said, the words coming out almost stiffly. An apron magically appeared around her waist and she got around to continuing whatever it was she was doing before Steve got here.

In truth, Steve wasn’t sure where the mess was. The kitchen was clean and pristine without even a speck of dust floating in the air. He wasn’t sure what to say so he stayed silent, his eyes roving around the space.

“Anything you prefer to drink?” Y/N said just as the oven dinged. She pulled open the door of the oven and with the use of her powers, telekinetically moved the hot tray of cookies towards the kitchen isle. “I make a mean cup of coffee. Or if you want some chocolate or tea, I can make those for you too.”

“Coffee sounds great,” Steve said with a slight smile, pushing aside the awkwardness. It was strange, he thought, that the only pieces of conversation Steve ever had with Y/N was when he’d captured her or when she was monologuing her villainous plans or when she was behind bars and was too tired to escape, choosing instead to make idle conversation with Steve.

“You can take a seat, you know,” Y/N gestured at one of the stool in the kitchen island and Steve watched in wonder as what seemed like invisible hands pulled the stool, giving him space to take a seat.

Steve didn’t even hesitate. He took a seat on the stool and silently watched as Y/N used her powers to move the cookies to a cooling rack. An almost white glow seemed to envelop the cookies as they slowly moved from one tray to the next. She moved assuredly, her eyes trained in concentration in the task before her. “How do you like your coffee, Rogers?”

Steve paused, a little surprised by the question but he wasn’t really sure why. She’d already offered to make it for him. Why should he be surprised that she would make it to his liking? “To be honest, I’m not sure.”

At that, she stopped. Her eyes snapped to his face, her brows furrowing in confusion. “You don’t know what kind of coffee you like?”

“Well back then our only option was black. No cream or sugar because of the war. There’s all these options now and I’ve never really got around to exploring them before.”

With the way Y/N stared at him, it was a miracle a hole hadn’t burned through his forehead.

“Why don’t I make you my go to coffee order so you can give it a try? You aren’t allergic to anything, right?”

“I’ll have whatever you’ll have. I was allergic to whole bunch of things before the serum but I’m not anymore.”

Y/N simply nodded silently before walking towards the espresso machine and grabbing ingredients from one of the massive fridges. Cartons of milks and bottles of syrups flying out of the fridge in a neat conga line, swaying this way and that.

“I’m a little surprised you didn’t know that I wasn’t allergic to anything,” Steve said, his words trailing off. Y/N was smart, a certifiable genius who could wield magic more effectively than Steven Strange. She wasn’t nearly as powerful as Wanda but there was no denying that she’d give the Scarlet Witch a run for her money if the situation called for it. Steve had expected that Y/N would learn everything there was to know about the Avengers, especially since they were her enemy.

“I did know you weren’t currently allergic to anything,” Y/N said, her words almost indecipherable over the loud din of the brewing espresso. “It would have been rude of me not to ask so I did.”

Oh.

Well, Y/N was nothing if not impeccably well mannered.

She turned to him then, her gaze pure unbendable steel as her eyes locked to his. “Steve, what are you really doing here? I haven’t done anything remotely villainous for the past few months.”

“I told you, the storm.” Even his words sounded feeble in his ears.

“You expect me to believe that you came all this way to, what, protect me from the hurricane? My house is reinforced by magic, Rogers. Nothing can harm me while I’m in here. Not rain, snow, tsunamis, earthquakes or hellfire. And I know you know that. And if what your saying is true and you wanted to warn me about the storm, I’m suppose to suddenly believe that you, what, care about me? So why are you really here?”

The urge to tell her that he really did care about her fought its way out of his throat, scratching and biting and screaming as he struggled to push it back to whatever box it crawled out of. Feeling anything but antagonism for Y/N was a recipe for disaster, one that had the word DOOM spelled out all over it.

The truth is, they were two very different people. Or, at least, Steve desperately hoped that they were different.

He was a good person. He didn’t need a super soldier serum to tell him that he was a good person.

But calling Y/N a villain wouldn’t have been fair to her.

She was so much more.

When it came to Y/N, the lines were always blurred. Even when she did terrible things like murder people, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel bad for any of the people she’d killed because they themselves were monsters. And when she did good, it was far better than any goodness Steve had done in his life. Y/N had been known to heal children sick with cancer, permanently purging their diseases from their bodies. She’d helped protect rape victims and domestic abuse survivors by giving them protective charms.

But because of her methods, because she’d never been afraid to kill and hurt in order to achieve her goals, she’d been labeled a villain.

Her personality changes were enough to give Steve whiplash.

Still, Steve couldn’t deny the obvious attraction between them.

The first time the Avengers had captured her, she had been in a gleeful mood. Almost manic. She’d succeeded in assassinating a high profile senator who was running for the presidency and while his profile was clean cut on the outside, his assassination broke the news that he wasn’t as good as he claimed to be. He’d profited off of a sex-trafficking ring, selling girls as young as 4 to shady buyers looking for slaves. There’d been signs of torture and mutilation on his body and with the way his blood drenched Y/N from head to toe, it was clear she’d felt no remorse for what she’d done.

Steve almost didn’t want to arrest Y/N then and in truth, a part of him had been relieved when she’d escaped her cell. The whole team had silently agreed to not answer any of their phones when she’d initially escaped. Even Nick Fury had agreed to put his phone on silent.

After a week, Y/N was sighted in Madripoor freeing the captured women. The lives of a thousand women in exchange for one horrible, greedy man didn’t seem like a hard exchange in Steve’s eyes. When the Avengers finally arrived on the scene after several pitstops involving coffee, donuts and ice cream, Y/N went with them willingly only after she confirmed that the women would be fine, giving each of them a protective charm that helped them sleep better at night despite the traumas they’d endured.

After that, she’d stretched out her arms, ready for the power-dampening handcuffs that Tony had designed specifically for her. She’d done with an almost gleeful smile on her face, humming an unfamiliar song. Despite the soot, the blood and bruises that marred her pretty face, she was the image of pure contentment.

“Don’t even think of escaping, Y/L/N,” Tony had said as she clasped the manacles around her wrist, the technology whirring to life with a little beep. “With these little guys around your wrist, you can’t use a single iota of your powers.”

She’d smirked at Tony then. “Very bold of you to assume I need magic to escape.”

Steve and Natasha had taken it upon themselves to escort her to her prison cell with the rest of the team staying behind to ensure that all the freed women would be okay.

“You know, I’m almost rooting for you,” Natasha said with a wry smile.

“Almost?” Y/N asked incredulously.

“Scratch that. I am rooting for you.”

Y/N smirked. “I’m a huge fan of yours, too you know. It’s not everyone who can defeat a giant purple alien hellbent on destroying half the universe’s population.”

“What can we say? All in a day’s work.”

“I hope there isn’t any hard feelings between us when I do eventually escape from these restraints.”

“That’s going to depend on how hard you hit us.”

“I’ll try not to throw a punch.”

Y/N eyed Steve on her right, who had been quiet during the whole exchange. “He looks sturdy though. I’m sure I can take both of you in a fight even with my hands tied behind my back. Well, with my hands tied in my front, rather.”

She did manage to escape that time.

One moment she was sitting at the back of the Quinjet, the very image of regality and the next, the manacles were off her hands, with the Quinjet’s hangar opened as she jumped out of it, the whole interaction happening before either Steve or Natasha had even unbuckled their seat belts.

Neither Steve nor Natasha were eager to run after her.

The second time the Avengers captured her, Y/N had paid a visit to a suave businessman who’s whole appeal was his efforts to Go Green!

As it turns out, the only green he was after was money.

Y/N had leaked the news, telling the world about how the businessman’s green message had been nothing but a sham. He’d burned down whole forests to cultivate land in order to create cocaine that he could serve to the masses, exploiting young boys by turning them into dealers and addicts.

Y/N had leaked the story to the press, telling the world about how the businessman’s whole green message was nothing but a lie. Not only was he burning whole forests down to fuel his greed, he’d been doing it to plant cocaine plants, enough to get the whole northern hemisphere high on his supply. It was lucrative business and he’d exploited young boys by forcing them to work in the factory, forcing them to get high to keep them subservient to him.

She’d gone after the businessman first, sending a message to the world that his hypocrisy wouldn’t be tolerated. She hanged him, dangled his body over the side of his company’s skyscraper in New York then proceeded to free the boys stuck in his factories around the world before cutting down the cocaine farms and replanting new trees.

With the businessman’s shady dealings all over the world, it had been difficult to track down where she’d strike next. Not that the Avengers were actually eager to capture her.

Strangely enough, Bruce would find himself immensely hungry before they had to fly to wherever in the world Y/N was in and it didn’t do well not to feed the Hulk.

They’d finally captured her in a tiny island off the coast of Mexico, the last of the businessman’s strongholds. She’d freed the boys, cured them for their addiction then cut down the cocaine plants. Then she sat down and waited for the Avengers to arrive.

“Took you guys long enough,” Y/N had said as Steve and Natasha walked towards her. She stood up, dusting off her pants.

“Scott drank a lot of orange juice on the way here. We had to make a lot of pitstops.”

Y/N frowned at them. “I distinctly remember that your jet had a restroom.”

“Plumbing was broken according to Tony,” Steve said with a shrug.

She made a noise of assent before she put up her arms. “Alright, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“Put your hands down. We aren’t going to cuff you.” Natasha led the way to the Quinjet where Scott Lang and Bruce Banner waited.

“Oh, pulling out the red carpet for me?” Y/N batted her eyelashes, almost flirtatiously. “You shouldn’t have.”

“If I had my way, you’d be in cuffs,” Steve huffed under his breath.

Y/N raised a challenging brow. “Not a fan of me, Steven?”

“I’m not a fan of anarchists,” Steve retorted.

“Anarchist,” she repeated with a pleased grin. “I like that. Never been called that one before.”

“Steve,” Nat said in a warning tone.

The group had already discussed the whole Y/N situation. While majority of the Avengers thought that while Y/N’s actions were brutal, ultimately, the end results and her intention was good. Even if it resulted in the death of one evil soul, none of the could deny that her actions ended up saving hundreds, if not thousands, of lives.

She may not have taken down a giant purple alien hell-bent on wiping out half of all living beings, no one could deny that her actions saved others.

Still, Steve didn’t exactly approve of her methods.

“Listen, I get it,” Y/N said as their group ascended up the Quinjet, occupying one of the empty seats and giving Bruce and Scott a greeting nod. “I’m not exactly conventional but sometimes, it takes breaking the system to help others. You can’t help the survivors if they were victimized by the very system created to protect them.”

“I’m just saying there are proper channels—“

“No there aren’t. There are no proper channels for people like them.”

Steve frowned. “Who, the oppressed?”

“No. Them. The rich and powerful bastards who constantly use their money and resources to take advantage of people. There is no justice when it comes to them.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” Y/N turned to Scott, who watching the exchange between her and Steve with rapt attention. “Lang, weren’t you imprisoned for grand larceny?”

“It was one time,” Scott sighed, “and I didn’t steal that money for myself. I gave it to the people most in need.”

“Right, and how many years did the CEO you stole from spend in jail for stealing from his employees?”

“None,” Scott replied, almost quietly.

She turned back to Steve. “See? The system is broken and sometimes the only way to make it work is to smash it completely to bits.”

He’d ignored her then and it didn’t take much effort for her to escape them.

“Oh daaarn,” Natasha said sarcastically as her hands pulled at the accelerator, taking them further and further away from where Y/N landed, “we can’t exactly turn back now. Might as well go get some ice cream while we’re at it.”

They met again after the death of a high-profile serial killer. Because the serial killer work in law enforcement, he got off easy and he was released after 10 years in prison despite the fact that he’d killed 23 families, roughly 100 or so people. No one was spared, not women or children or even babies.

When he got off, Y/N was there to make sure he never hurt anyone again.

“He could have changed!” Steve yelled, his voice bouncing around the Quinjet. He was alone with her this time, having rushed to the scene of the crime. “He could have become a better person.”

“He could have,” Y/N said quietly, her unblinking eyes trained on open sea in front of them. Steve wasn’t sure where he was flying the Quinjet but he’d be damned if he brought Y/N back to US soil. She’d be met with handcuffs as soon as she lands and it wasn’t Y/N he was worried about. Anyone who tries to arrest Y/N would end up in the hospital. “I’m not willing to take that chance.”

He glanced at her. Y/N’s face was passive, a stoic facade as hard as stone but her eyes were soft, the sadness and pain in her eyes unmistakable.

“When you can do the things I can,” she whispered, her voice so low, Steve strained to hear, “when you’re cursed with powers like I have, you have two choices. You can either lash out at the world or you can do something to fix it. Any person that man would have killed after he was released, their blood would have been on my hands.”

“You are not responsible for other people’s actions,” Steve said, his previous anger leaching from him.

“You’re right. But I am responsible for my own. Now where are you taking me? If you’re not entirely sure, you can drop me off in Australia. I have some business to attend to.”

“What business?”

“Not that you care but the leader of the Russian mafia is staying there for vacation. That man and his operation has killed hundreds of people. I’d like to pay him a visit. I can portal my way there but using the Quinjet means I have a few minutes to rest my eyes.”

The right thing to do would have been to bring Y/N back to the States to answer for her crimes. Instead, Steve turned the plane around and headed to Australia. And as Y/N slept soundly, he ignored the vice-like grip of the anaconda that constricted itself around his heart.

They landed in Australia after a few hours and he watched as Y/N stretched her body against the seat. “That has to be the best sleep I’ve had since… well I hardly remember.”

“Go,” Steve said, his voice harsh. “Before I change my mind.”

But Y/N did no such thing. Instead she lounged against the seat as if it was her throne and she its lazy queen. “You know, when Natasha or even Tony let me go, I understand their motives. Tony doesn’t trust the legal system and Natasha could have been one of the women I saved in another life. But you? Don’t you have a stick up your ass the length of a stripper pole?”

Steve bristled at her words but kept his mouth shut. His eyes were narrowed into slits as he watched a wry smile pull her lips.

“So, what, Steve? What’s the play here? You really want me to kill this guy? Why are you letting me go?”

“There are a lot of people who deserve to go to jail. You aren’t one of them. What you do with your freedom, that’s up to you.” His words were the truth. She looked at him with an expression he couldn’t really place and for a single second, it was as if a silent agreement passed between them. But the moment was gone and Y/N conjured up a portal and sashayed away.

That was three months ago and any and calls Steve heard regarding Y/N, he’d ignored. He ignored her when Y/N went on a prison break binge, releasing small time drug offenders and helping cure them of their addiction; he’d ignored her when she’d leaked the financials of big pharmaceutical companies, causing their sales to tank and for the price of insulin to go down; he’d ignored her when she’d saved hundreds of women in another sex trafficking ring.

Except now, today. He’d heard reports from Nat, who decided to keep in touch with Y/N on the down low, on Y/N’s location and he ran here. Now she was looking at him with the most perplexed look on her face.

She turned, once again busying herself with making his coffee.

“I’m surprised you aren’t using magic to make the coffee,” Steve said.

She shrugged. “I like making it by hand. Reminds me of simpler times.”

She set the steaming mug of coffee in front of him before grabbing a small plate and setting a few pieces of the freshly baked cookie in front of him. The coffee was still hot enough to hurt his mouth but Steve didn’t hesitate to take a sip. He’d had worse injuries than a burnt tongue.

The coffee was delicious. It was sweet, sweeter than he was used to but still delicious. The cookie, on the other hand, was something else entirely. He half suspected that maybe Y/N had sprinkled some kind of magic potion on the cookie because it was the best damn cookie he’d had in his life. The outside of the cookie was soft but the inside was gooey, the butter saturating through every nook and cranny. It melted on his tongue, the dark bitter chocolate and sweet butterscotch encased in a tango of flavor that danced on his tongue.

He briefly wondered if it would be polite to ask Y/N if he could bring home the entire tray.

“Good?” She asked, taking a sip of her own cup.

“This is the best cookie I’ve had in my life.”

She smiled at that. “Thanks. It’s an old recipe.”

Mundanity with Y/N was weird but strangely nice.

“So what are you really doing here, Steve?” Y/N asked as she took a seat in the stool next to him.

He took another sip of the coffee, buying himself some time. “To be honest, I’m not sure.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re not sure why you’re here? Radio silence from the Avengers for three months despite the crimes I committed and then all of a sudden, Steve Rogers grants me a house call.“

When she put it that way, he sounded ridiculous. But the words he’d spoken were the truth.

Instead, he shifted the subject. It was all he could to escape from Y/N’s scrutinizing gaze anyway.

“Right before we got to Australia, you said something,” Steve said the words slowly, hoping not to scare Y/N off by his line of questioning, “you said you were cursed by your powers?”

Steve had been mulling over her words for the better part of three months, taking it out like a precious pearl to examine on his quiet days. He couldn’t make heads or tails of it. All he knew was that her words were strange. Y/N was a gifted magic user and Stephen Strange had often commented at her adept ability at it. It took people years, centuries even, to gain the level of mastery Y/N had when it came to magic and yet she used as surely as she breathed.

Why would she refer to it as a curse?

Y/N raised a brow, almost in challenge. “You’re telling me the Avengers haven’t figured it out?”

Y/N usually spoke in riddles and though it always frustrated Steve, he was also incredibly patient and so his next words came out even. “Figured what out?”

“My powers. I thought Steven Strange would try to figure me out the moment I came on to the scene.”

“He tried. Well, still trying. It frustrates him, y’know. How he can’t find answers to you.”

She grinned at that. “Alright then, I’ll give you the answers to me. Then it’s up to you if you want to tell him or not.”

“Why do you think I’ll keep everything you say to myself?”

“Because you’re Steve Rogers. And you came here, to me, in the middle of the biggest storm of the year, to see if I was okay. I doubt the others know and I’m pretty positive you wouldn’t tell them. So whatever information I say here, right now, you’ll keep to yourself.”

She was right. Of course she was. Steve figured Y/N was rarely wrong about anything.

“Alright. Go ahead. How’d you get your powers?”

“I was cursed with it by a god.”

She said it so seriously, Steve struggled to figure out if she was telling the truth.

“Why do you say it’s a curse?”

“Well the god who cursed me said that as the years past, I will become the most powerful magic wielder to exist. My powers will magnify tenfold, twentyfold and one day, I will become so powerful, I’ll have the ability to take over entire universes. Problem with that is magic always comes with a price and mine is my conscience. Every time I use my powers, my conscience becomes blacker until finally, it becomes a void inside of me.”

“So when you use your powers—“

“A piece of me dies with it and is reborn into something I don’t recognize. It’s why I do what I do.”

Realization dawns on Steve. “You do your own twisted version of good to remind yourself you can be good.”

She gave him a wry smirk tinged with bitterness. “There’s no place for me in Heaven, Steve. Only Hell. But when I get down there, I’m taking as many as I can down with me. Assuming I can die, that is.”

“You’re immortal?” Steve said with a frown.

“Well, according to the god that cursed me, I will not age and I will never get sick. Though, I imagine that if I was stabbed through the heart and someone finds a way to stop me from using my powers to heal myself, I’d die just like any other human.”

She gave him a pointed look, one that Steve shifting in his seat uncomfortably.

“If you want to use my weaknesses against me, go right ahead, Rogers,” Y/N said nonchalantly before taking a slow sip of her coffee. “I’ll even stand still while you plunge a knife through my heart.”

“I don’t have any intention of killing you.” And it chilled Steve to the bone to find out how much he meant those words.

“Bummer.” And Y/N looked genuinely disappointed.

“Hey,” Steve said sharply. “Life is a gift. You shouldn’t—“

“Can it, Rogers. I don’t want to hear that right now,” Y/N said but there was no malice in her voice. She just sounded tired.

Fine. If she didn’t want to discuss it, Steve was more than willing to change the subject. “You never said why the god gave you your magic.”

Y/N let out a cynical chuckle. “He was in love with me.”

“What?” Steve asked, not quite believing her words.

“The god. He was in love with me. I turned him down. Repeatedly, might I add. He got so fed up by my rejection, he decided to curse me with immortality and power. He said that one day, when I get bored with my life, it will drive me to his arms. I intend to live forever without ever thinking of him again just to spite him. And when I gather enough power, I’ll kill him myself. He can take away my humanity but he can’t take away my hatred of him.”

Steve couldn’t stop his smile. Y/N’s story was sad, incredibly so. He couldn’t imagine the profound loneliness that stretched before her. Centuries, maybe even a millennia of isolation and solitariness to spite a vengeful god. But she’d succeed, Steve had no doubts about that. He couldn’t picture anyone squaring up with Y/N and coming out of it victorious on the other side.

“So, what do we do now, Steve?” Y/N said with a slight sigh.

“What do you mean?”

“Well you broke a boundary. We never explicitly said it but I think we both decided to keep each other at arms length. I’ve been chummy with Nat and Yelena up to a point but not you. Back in Australia, I think we both agreed that our relationship will be strictly professional, even if we never really said the words out loud. But now, you’re here. What do we do about that?”

“I don’t know.”

Y/N simply sighed before taking a sip of her coffee. “Every morning, when I wake up, I find myself looking for reasons to get out of bed.”

“What are you doing?” Steve said with a frown.

“I celebrated my 100th birthday last (birthday month). I love to read. When I get bored, I write poetry. I love music though I was never talented enough with it but I do have centuries to learn now so who, knows, I might start. I love art too. I’ve been everywhere in the world and yet I never fail to visit a museum to see their art. I like sad paintings. The kind that can bring people to tears.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

She looked at him like he was the biggest idiot in the world and the answer should have been obvious by now. But Steve knew how to look past the arrogant veneer and see the vulnerability that swam in her eyes. “I’m going to live forever, Steve. And even if I’ll always remember other people, I won’t always be remembered. I figured, it’d be nice if someone knew some things about me. The last person I knew from my old life, she recently died. As humans, we are the people we know. I want someone to know me, even a little.”

“I miss music from the 1940s,” Steve said, not even thinking about the words. “Sam and Nat have both been trying to update me about the music of the decade but nothing beats my music. I like wearing converse because it’s one of the few things that never changed since I woke from the ice. I don’t like the rain. It reminds me too much of the war. There’s a boxing gym I use to go to back in New York. I never had a chance to box before because I was always too sick but I use to accompany Bucky whenever he had a match. When I was injected by the serum, I never had a chance to go back and so when I woke up from the ice it was one of the first places I went to.”

“Was the gym still operational?”

“It’s a little run down but I make it work.”

She smiled at him and Steve tried to ignore the jolt of warmth that shot down his spine.

“Why are you telling me these things?” She asked, an eyebrow raised in question, a playful expression beginning to bloom from her face.

“Friends know things about each other.”

And then Y/N’s face lightened like the sun peeking from the clouds after a storm, all warmth and joy.

The rain. Steve hadn’t even realized it had stopped. He glanced at the window behind Y/N and saw that the day looked almost as bright as Y/N’s smile.

“You need to go, don’t you,” Y/B said a little wistfully.

“Yeah,” Steve said, a little wistful too. He finished the cup to the dregs letting its sweet flavor fill him up til he was sure he’d be able to taste it until he got home.

Y/N led them out of the kitchen and back to the living room before she opened the front door and let him out.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N,” Steve said as he pushed his sweaty hands into his pocket.

“You will?” She said, surprise laced in her voice.

“You said you struggle to find reasons to wake up in the morning. I’ll be a reason to. Friends do that, you know.”

“I know,” Y/N said but without her usual bravado. She looked almost roseate and Steve suddenly realized how strange it is that despite the fact that he’s seen her many times before, he never realized how pretty she was. As if a sudden burden had been lifted from her shoulders, making her look younger than actually was. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Steve.”

“See you tomorrow.”

And she closed the door.

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nev3rfound · 2 years ago

Text

in your own time: b.b

it's supposed to be easy, just be a lookout, bucky said. yet, here you are, lying on the concrete slowly watching the grey darken with crimson. (2k)

warnings - graphic descriptions of bullet wounds, violence, blood, angst, but a fluffy ending.

thank you to @tieddown-withbattleshipchains for the request, hope you all enjoy!

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop

This sort of thing was bound to happen, hell, it comes with the profession. Though you never did sign that waiver stating you'd take a bullet for someone, that just came from your own slightly messed up instincts.

It was supposed to be easy, a simple lookout position. You should've known better by now that no lookout remains on the sidelines, everyone ends up front and centre somehow even if it's not planned. And sadly, most of the plan went to shit the moment John Walker barged into the place.

"Shit." Breathing out, you quickly move away from the balcony as John marches in past Sam, tailing Bucky.

Reaching the ground floor, your focus fixates on finding Bucky. Zemo starts talking but your tunnel vision blanks his reasonings to be released as you cautiously enter the next section of the derelict building.

"-it's all your fault, none of this should be allowed." Your ears start to perk up at the aggression in Walker's tone. Turning the corner you can see him standing above Karli, Bucky in close range behind her holding his hands out in surrender.

"John, just take a step back, yeah? You don't wanna do this." Bucky dares to step closer, only for John's attention to shift and point a gun at Bucky, removing the safety swiftly.

Bucky's gaze flickers at the sound of rubble being trodden on, and his eyes find you with a heavy heart. He tries to convey his desperation for you to leave, but as always, you persist.

"I don't have a choice, Barnes." John's voice trembles with fury, and you can faintly see the gun shaking in his grasp.

"There's always a choice." Bucky retorts, trying to mentally configure a way out to ensure your safety. But before he can finalize the mental details, everything happens at once.

The sound of your yell, John falling to the ground with a thud and the gun going off almost too quietly before your body falling limp on the ground whilst clutching your stomach.

Sam rushes into the room at the commotion, noticing you before Bucky has a chance to adjust.

"No, no, no." Sam cradles your body in his arms, watching your skin begin to lose its brightness, fading away as your lips start to quiver and tears fall freely down your face.

"Knew it'd happen sometime." You wheezily joke, barely feeling Sam's fingers glide across your cheeks before he looks up to Bucky who mirrors his fear.

With slow movements, your head falls to the side to see Bucky staring at you in disbelief, waves washing over his eyes as he starts shaking his head rapidly. "No!" He screams at Walker, still breathing heavily on the ground, seemingly oblivious to what he's done.

Yet, Bucky simply clenches his fists and stands over John, noticing some blood dripping down his face. Good, Bucky thinks to himself. But not good enough.

Your eyes begin to blur when Bucky starts punching John. His fists collide with his cheeks first, rolling his head side to side as if he were a doll. John's face is becoming unrecognizable, but so is Bucky's. It's a horrible ordeal, yet one you can't help but tear your eyes from.

Bucky continues with his punches, his fists now slamming down together on John's chest, his face already having sustained more than enough to be bloody for now. John's coughing blood, dripping from his nose, ears, and mouth, but Bucky prevails, muttering your name before he strikes John square in the jaw, watching his eyes roll back into unconsciousness.

Breathing heavily, Bucky slides off America's new hero and struggles toward you. With bloodied fists, his hand reaches for yours now coated in crimson.

"He got me good, Buck." You weakly chuckle, trying, fighting against every fibre in your body telling you to just let go, close your eyes, and the pain will be over. "But you got him beat there." The words leave your lips in a whisper, feeling your body almost sinking into the ground despite Sam holding onto you tightly whilst Bucky raises your hand to his lips, muttering pleas and his love for you.

"Don't go, doll. Not now, not like this." Bucky hates how vulnerable he feels, and how he let this happen. It shouldn't be like this, it never should've been an option in the first place. "There's gotta be something, right?" Bucky's desperation drips with every word.

Defeated, Sam just lowers his head. "She's lost too much blood, Bucky." Sam hates to say it but knows Bucky will never admit it aloud.

"We can get her help." A new voice pipes up, and Bucky points his gun in their direction, not caring who it is.

Moving closer despite the gun aimed at him, Zemo sighs at the sight. Your eyes now glossing over, lips parted, and not enough blood in your system to keep your heart beating. "There's help outside, they had been notified the moment a gunshot was heard, come on." Zemo explains, but neither of the men seems to be able to move.

"Come on!" Zemo insists, raising his voice and bending down to help, only to be met by the barrel of the gun at his forehead.

"Do not touch her." Bucky spits every word at the man. "It'll be okay, Y/n." Bucky's voice softens as he cradles your cheek, looking up to Sam who nods. "We're gonna get you help, and you'll pull through, yeah?"

The three of them know you're past being able to hear them. Your blinks become fleeting, but your lips start to move when the three try and lift you off the ground.

Bucky knows he'll have nightmares about the cries and screams flooding his eardrums as he holds you close to his chest. He tries to overrule them with comfort, but it's no use. Your screams of agony start to die down once sunlight casts across your face and you're forced onto a gurney, then everything simply fades.

"Ugh." You groan loudly, hitting the button above you repeatedly just to see the same nurse stroll on in with their arms crossed.

"Miss Y/l/n, we've told you before, you can't just ring for us if you're bored." The Nurse sighs, having lost count now of how many times you've clicked the bell either purposefully or accidentally.

Rolling your eyes, you start to push your body up only to be met with a coursing pain through your abdomen. The nurse paces towards you, resting her hand on your shoulder with a sympathetic glance crossing her eyes briefly.

"It's still too soon for you to be making any sudden movements like that, your stitches are still fresh." She reminds you, only to be met back with a huff.

"Can I at least have some more painkillers? This thing hurts like a bitch, Van." You half chuckle, meaning every word.

Van looks down at her watch and shakes her head. "Not for another few hours, but it's almost lunchtime." She tries to cheer you up with that knowledge, but it's little to no use. Holding her hands up in defense at your scowl, she reminds you of the same thing. "We're under strict orders here from Mr Barnes, I don't make the rules here!"

Returning to solitude, you pick up the notes that sit by your bedside, recording all of your injuries sustained by the asshole known as John Walker.

Your eyes have scanned over the list numerous times now. Lodged bullet in the abdomen, inches from the liver. Sustained severe head trauma. Significant blood loss.

"Just great." You repeat yourself out of boredom, you've never been good at patiently healing after a mission.

Usually, Bucky cheers you on, knowing you'll bounce back and mess about with Sam in no time. But this is different, you knew it the moment you woke up from surgery to see Bucky clinging to your hand so tight he was afraid if he let go, you'd slip from his grasp forevermore.

That was two weeks ago, and you're still in the private ward. The same four walls have been permanently embedded into your brain whenever you close your eyes along with the repetitive bleeping of machines.

A gentle knock on the door frame averts your attention from the white wall, and instead, a handsome smile adorns Bucky's face. "Hey, pretty boy." You tease. "Here to sweep me off my feet? Though I'd advise against that, maybe just sweep me off this godforsaken bed and into that wheelchair, huh?" Motioning to the barely used wheelchair, Bucky sits on the vacant chair next to you.

"Do I dare ask how you're feeling?" Bucky teases, a half smile forming on his lips. "Or do you wanna tip toe 'round it?"

Humming to yourself, you reach for his hand and squeeze it tightly. "I'm just so tired, Buck." You exhale deeply. "I think the nurses and doctors are almost wishing for a faster recovery than this just to get rid of me."

Bucky chuckles at that, knowing it to be true. From the moment you were wheeled into the hospital, they took you away before he could say anything to you. Ever since you woke up, he's made sure to keep a watchful eye on everything that is going on internally and externally in your recovery.

"Well," Bucky starts, leaning on his left side as he turns to face the door, greeting Sam.

"No way," The smile on your face widens in delight, a sight Bucky can't help but wish to etch into his mind, to ensure it never fades. "two in one day? Man, I must be special." You joke, feeling Bucky squeeze your hand lightly.

Taking the seat on the opposite side of the bed, Sam pats your shoulder gently. "Today is your lucky day, Y/n I'll give you that." He jests, watching your expression quickly change to one of confusion as the duo exchange knowing glances.

"Am I missing something here?" You dare to question, only to be met with something that couldn't be more blissful.

"We're gonna take you out to Louisiana to recover. Somewhere quiet, relaxing, and stress-free." Bucky explains, relieved to see all the tension in your body almost melt away.

"So, when we goin'?"

With your eyes closed, the warmth of the sun comforts you like a blanket, wrapping you tightly to ensure the cold cannot break in. You listen intently to the gentle waves crashing against the pier, the hum of conversation on the water from those in boats. And the sense of tranquility, something you haven't felt in a very long time.

Footsteps bounce off the deck behind you, coming to a halt by your side. A hand rests on your shoulder, making its way toward your cheek. Moving your head to the side, you embrace the gentle touch, kissing his palm before he kneels down to sit alongside you.

"Thought I'd find you here." Bucky comments, resting his arm on your lap, noting the golden glow enveloping you. "Sarah's been asking if you're ready to join everyone for dinner."

Humming, you reach down and remove the brakes from your wheelchair. Bucky moves to stand, but you quickly take hold of his hand, keeping him level with you.

"Thank you, Bucky." You lean closer toward him, ignoring the twinge in your abdomen. Resting your forehead against his, you can hear his breath tremble. Before he can ask, you kiss him softly, feeling the warmth on his lips as he can for you; a reminder that you're alive.

"I'll never let you do somethin' so reckless again, I swear doll." Bucky promises, but you shake your head much to his annoyance.

"Comes with the job, Bucky, and like I said, was gonna happen sooner or later." You chuckle, kissing his cheek before leaning back and begin to push on your wheels.

Shaking his head for a moment, Bucky catches up to walk alongside you, knowing everything would be okay after all.

398 notes · View notes

heliads · 9 months ago

Note

I’d like to request a Pietro imagine. Pietro survived and became an Avenger. The female reader doesn’t have powers and isn’t an Avenger. She’s really smart and works with Tony and Bruce in the lab. She was hired after the whole Ultron fiasco. People underestimated her intelligence in high school and college because she’s a girly girl and loves the colour pink, but the Avengers aren’t like that. Pietro likes her and wants to date her.

'waiting around' - pietro maximoff

masterlist

When they tell Pietro he has to go to the labs, his first thought is to run.

He knows it’s silly. These are not the same doctors who made the Maximoff twins strong and fast and utterly alone in this world, these are the scientists with the Avengers. They’re the good guys. Apparently. But Pietro has learned fairly quickly that people calling themselves good aren’t always good in the end.

Pietro has a lot of learning to do since he and Wanda escaped Ultron a few months back. He’s doing his best to be patient and take things ‘one step at a time,’ as the Americans keep telling him. Mainly, he would like their steps to be faster. Pietro has things to do, and they don’t usually involve waiting in line for someone else to decide if he’s worthy of their loyalty or not. The Avengers are trying, he knows that. It’s just hard sometimes.

Especially when Pietro is still trying to shake off the feeling that he should have died back in Sokovia. He came away with his share of narrow escapes, but there was one moment towards the end, when the ships were firing at him, when Clint needed his help, that Pietro thought would be his last. Luckily, he was faster than a few bullets, but there’s still this nagging voice in the back of Pietro’s subconscious that whispers to him late at night: what if you hadn’t been fast enough?

So he’s been uneasy as of late. What about it? Stress is common in inhumans and Avengers, one glance around this coffee-dependent complex could tell him that. Still, it’s a good thing to get checked out. That’s part of the reason Pietro is being directed to the labs, along with a need for a good annual physical.

It sounds good, too, were it not for the fact that Pietro has had plenty of experience with laboratories in the past few years and none of it was good. The Hydra labs made him strong, in a sense, but they were torturous. He can still remember the pile of corpses ushered out every day, the experiments that failed. He remembers curling up in a corner of his cell, begging his body not to give out, not to make him another body in a bag. He lived, but he remembers.

This is not Hydra. Pietro knows that. He left them behind. Still, there will always be some part of him that shrinks away from every syringe, that distrusts every doctor who comes poking and prodding at the bizarre novelty that is an inhuman. That will never go away, no matter who’s side he’s on.

Still, the lab remains. He has to go in, the others will know if he doesn’t. At first, Pietro hesitates just outside the door, afraid to knock, afraid to listen. There was always a chill in the air throughout the Hydra complex, he remembers the gooseflesh forever on his skin. Signs that nothing good happened within the walls. Or maybe it was just because of the stone buildings in cold climates. Everything has an explanation.

He can’t back out now. Pietro grits his teeth and swings the door open in one broad movement. For a moment, he stands there, waiting to walk back into his old cell, his old life, and then he looks around and realizes with a grin that he’s going to be fine. This isn’t a Hydra ploy to get him back under their thumb. For one thing, Hydra never used this much pink. Just barren walls and gloomy, monstrous skull logos. In retrospect, that should have been a bad sign. Pietro has a problem with ignoring details, though, and it tends to get him in trouble.

These details, however, are quite difficult to be ignored. Everywhere Pietro looks, he sees pinpricks of pink– the handle of a pipette, labels on equipment, notebooks full of scrawled data points, hair ties in a carefully organized container. No, Hydra never had this much fun, and Pietro is starting to think that this is going to be very fun indeed.

Smirking to himself, Pietro weaves further through the lab. He sees a few assistants scurrying around in the back, but they pay him no mind so he does the same. Pietro almost reaches the end of the room when a sudden voice calls out to him: “Don’t take another step.”

Instantly, Pietro freezes. The owner of the voice walks towards him, a young woman about his age in a lab coat. She must be the owner of the lab, too, because he spots a pink tie in her hair matching the others near the door. The name stitched onto the left breast pocket of her lab coat reads Dr. Y/N L/N, so Pietro knows she’s the one he was supposed to find.

She points to Pietro’s feet, where he notices are just touching a line of caution tape on the ground. “If you went any further, you’d be at risk of getting your eyes blinded by the lasers,” she informs him cheerfully.

Pietro’s face drops. Only now does he notice the hazard signs. “Huh. Guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

Y/N arches a brow. “Do you always wander around lab space without watching where you’re going? Seems like an awfully dangerous habit for me.”

Pietro grins. “Well, I usually rely on my reflexes to get me out of trouble. I’m pretty quick.”

To prove it, he uses his speed to instantly move right behind the woman. She spins around, donning an indignant look that Pietro decides is very cute. “Don’t do that,” she scolds him.

Pietro folds his arms across his chest, grin broadening. “Why not?”

“I’ll tell Steve you’d like to do some weight training with him in the gym, and you think you can outlift him,” she threatens.

Pietro feigns surrender. “Anything but that, please.”

At last, Y/N’s lips twitch up into a smile. “That’s what I thought you’d say. Now, let’s focus. Tony sent you in to get a checkup, right?”

Pietro nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Wrong,” she tells him. “Tony actually sent you in here to get on my nerves. He does that a lot. I’m busy and he likes distracting me. We’re going to get through this as quickly as possible, alright?”

Pietro has to fight not to laugh. “And here I thought everyone in the labs gets along.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Most of the time, yes. Except when he sticks me with babysitting duty.”

“This isn’t babysitting,” Pietro protests, “I’m getting to know you. I already feel like we’re the best of friends.”

Something that might be a smile flits across Y/N’s face, but she takes great pains to hide it to him. Pietro, who has always cared a little too much about getting people to laugh at his jokes, follows her like a dog as she walks through her lab. “You can laugh, you know. It won’t kill you.”

The smile is gone as quickly as it appeared, and Pietro instantly wishes he hadn’t said a word. “I’m working right now,” she tells him abruptly. “That means I’m focused. Don’t get in my way.”

Surprised and somewhat hurt by her shift in mood, Pietro goes quiet, but he can’t resist asking a second later, “I’m not trying to interfere with your work, I promise. Does that often happen?”

Y/N goes still. Pietro is half expecting her to just ignore him when she finally speaks at last, very quiet and very unlike the fiery personality he’d seen before. “Every time someone new comes in here. And with half the people I’ve already met, anyway. You’d be surprised what a few pink accessories can do to someone’s reputation, and their credibility in a lab.”

Pietro grimaces. “I’m sorry about that, honest. That’s not what I was going for, by the way. I joke with everyone.”

At last, Y/N meets his eyes. There’s a faint tint of humor swimming in her gaze. “I think I got that.”

She��s smiling, though, so he takes that as a good sign. Once that initial barrier was crossed, Y/N opens up a little more, and then Pietro finds himself stopping by her lab almost every day when he’s not off on a mission. He sees her thrilled with success after an experiment worked, and desolate when they don’t. He sees her consumed with stress. He sees her brow knit with careful concern as she patches him up after a mission. Through all of it, Pietro is increasingly risky with his heart, and then one day, he knows he loves her.

It’s a foolish thing to do. Y/N has confided in him many times that she’s afraid people only will see her as a girl first and a researcher second, someone who can be taken out for drinks but never a valid source of knowledge. If he makes his move now, she’ll never forgive him for being just like the others.

So he doesn’t say a thing, and descends further and further into hopelessness. Wanda says he’s ridiculously obvious, but Y/N still doesn’t seem to have noticed a thing, so maybe the only person more oblivious than Pietro is Y/N, and that’s saying something. Pietro doesn’t want to ruin their friendship, but as the days slip by and Pietro only falls more in love with her, he wonders if he hasn’t already ruined it by always wanting more than he can have.

He’s starting to wonder if he is simply going to carry this secret with him forever, until Y/N catches him at it one evening. The night is growing late, and Pietro has retreated to one of his favorite hiding places in the Avengers complex, Y/N’s lab, to watch her conduct her experiments and indulge in some idle chatter. They’ve grown quiet, and Pietro is leaning against a benchtop, doing nothing but watch her. Some of the motion-sensor lights in the corners of the lab have gone off from inactivity, giving the lights above them an extra glow. The light plays upon Y/N’s face and makes her eyes shine.

Pietro is just thinking that he’s never seen someone more beautiful in his entire life when Y/N looks up and catches him in the act. Instantly, Pietro pretends as if he’d simply been watching her pipette some samples into the well plates in front of her, but her brow is already furrowing and she’s asking him what’s wrong.

Pietro shrugs elaborately. “Nothing, nothing. Just thinking.”

“Really?” She asks, grinning slightly. “I didn’t think that was a normal thing to you.”

Pietro rolls his eyes. “Very funny.”

“I thought so,” Y/N hums. “What were you thinking about? You seemed very preoccupied.”

“Nothing,” Pietro repeats, but Y/N doesn’t seem convinced.

“Come on, I didn’t think we were the type to keep secrets from each other. What are you trying to hide?” Y/N asks.

Pietro scratches the back of his head, suddenly awkward. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Even better,” she says, laughing slightly. “What is it?”

Pietro should stay silent, but he can feel the secret rising up his lungs and forcing itself out before he gets the chance. “I’m in love with you,” he blurts out.

Y/N’s eyes widen. Whatever she was expecting him to say, it obviously wasn’t that. “Oh,” she says quietly.

“Yeah,” Pietro says, wanting to stab himself in the eye with a nearby multitool. “Oh.”

He eyes the door, and has just decided that a strategic retreat is the best move when Y/N interjects, “I love you too, you know.”

Pietro turns around so hastily that he almost upsets a nearby rack of micropipettes. “What? You do?”

She’s glancing at her work, but he can tell that she’s embarrassed. “Yeah. Thought you knew.”

“Obviously I didn’t, or I would have done something about it,” Pietro blurts out.

Y/N glances up again, smiling again. “Like what?”

“Like take you out on a date,” Pietro returns. “How about it? This Friday. Seven. I’ll pick you up.”

Y/N laughs. “That sounds good to me.”

It sounds good to Pietro, too. When he leaves Y/N’s lab at the end of the day, he’s practically giddy. All this time, he was afraid of telling her, and now he’s wishing he spilled his guts much earlier. Regardless, he has what he wants. They’ll have their date, and Pietro is going to feel like he’s on top of the world.

requested by @thornyrose463, i hope you enjoy!

all tags list: @wordsarelife

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