#because please give me more paranoid steve not just moving on right away from being fuckinh drugged non consensually !!!

[fifthnailinstevesbat]

thinking of a new steddie fic/au hmmm.

It’s just the classic, Steve buys weed from Eddie in season 1 era, he and Tommy meet him at the bench in the woods behind school. Steve and Eddie have some playful banter and clearly get along, but it’s dismissed as just a drug deal and they go on about their lives.

Next time they meet is when a frantic Steve comes and finds Eddie after he’s just fought off the demogorgon for the first time. He’s rattled, and skittish, wearing a nasty black bruise on his eye, and just overall not acting like himself. He snaps at Eddie multiple times to just ‘hurry up’ and ‘get him his stuff’, and sure he’s being an asshole, but more than anything Eddie is just concerned. He has never seen The King Steve Harrington lose his cool like this. So Eddie cautiously gives him the weed, making sure not to give too much, and lets him go about his day, but not before asking if he’s alright. Steve clearly wasn’t expecting this and brushes it off defensively, but that doesn’t mean he’s not thinking about it for the rest of his week. How the hell did Eddie Munson notice something was wrong, when his own parents didn’t? Nor his “friends”?

They cross paths again a year later, the beginning of season two. Steve is still with Nancy and has freshly dumped his old douchebag crew of superficial friends. He is still sitting quite comfortably on the higher ranks of popularity, but there is no denying his status is not what it used to be. He comes to buy weed from Eddie in the first week back at school, and it’s a casual interaction. He’s still as charmingly stuck up as he ever was, but now without Tommy there to judge his every move, he seems a little more at ease when making casual conversation with Eddie. Eddie doesn’t mention the year before and Steve is so glad for it, secretly very embarrassed that he went to Eddie for some refuge after arguably his most traumatic experience to date. He gets his stuff, giving Eddie a smirk when he notices he’s dropped the price significantly for Steve when it’s just him alone. Eddie gives him a challenging smile back, almost daring him to call it out, but he doesn’t. They both just laugh and part ways.

The next run in is tina’s halloween party. They notice eachother when Steve first arrives, making eye contact and giving a polite nod. Maybe Eddie lifts his drink up to Steve in a silly salute. They don’t speak at all or make any effort to hang around eachother. That is, until Steve storms down the stairs in a rage after he’d gone up there with Nancy Wheeler. But then are those- tears? Eddie was standing on the front porch smoking a cigarette, trying to discreetly hide from one Billy Hargrove to avoid having to sell him anything, but staying visible enough that he won’t lose all chances of making any money tonight. Steve storms right past him and hits his shoulder. Eddie whips around and is about to call him a dick before he sees who it is.

Steve tries to quickly wipe his face, he won’t make eye contact with Eddie, and he’s clearly trying to get out as fast as he can. Eddie doesn’t let him, though, since he’s obviously not thinking very clearly and is most likely about to do something emotional and stupid. He asks if Steve’s alright, and his answers are all short and rushed, so he’s definitely not. They’re not really friends, but Eddie’s not an asshole.

— “Did you drive?” Eddie asks

“Yeah”

“Well, you’re drunk, Steve. You can’t get behind a wheel right now. And if I knowingly let you, then that makes me an accomplice. I’ll take you home.”

Steve tries to protest, attempting to push past him, but Eddie interjects. “Yeah, yeah, alright! Don’t thank me yet, Steve’o. This is not for you, see, I’m not trying to get a criminal record, here. I cant go to prison, Steve. Do you know what they’d do to a pretty guy like me in prison? Nope, let’s go hot stuff.” —

Eddie takes Steve home. They don’t talk much. By the time they reach Steve’s drive way and Eddie has put his van in park, Steve is making no attempt to exit the vehicle just yet. Eddie doesn’t know what to do, he didn’t really plan this far, so he’s just tapping away awkwardly at his steering wheel while Harrington stares down the dashboard so clearly lost in thought Eddie fears his head might explode. Steve tells Eddie what happened, says it’s ‘relationship troubles’, and he’s not quite sure what compelled him into being so honest with Eddie Munson, but he’s blaming the alcohol. Eddie wasn’t expecting that. They chat for a bit, Eddie makes Steve laugh and considers the whole night a success after that. Then they start cracking jokes about their shared hatred for Hargrove, and Steve looks and sounds a bit more ok to go inside. He thanks Eddie, quite sincerely actually, and it throws him a bit. He stutters a ‘yeah, for sure. It’s no problem.’ And Steve goes home.

After that, it’s a little different. Steve, doesn’t actually really have anyone, anymore. When they go back to school he’s now greeting Eddie here and there in the hallways, making conversation when they find themselves alone together, in the lunch line or at the bathroom sink. He doesn’t approach Eddie when there’s too many people around, though. As much as he’s grown, Steve Harrington still carry’s some prejudice in him about how certain things may make him look. But it doesn’t bother Eddie too much. It’s not like they are really friends, they’re just like, strange acquaintances. And Steve would never deny that they get along, that really Eddie’s ‘not so bad’. So that’s a win.

Steve finds Eddie again not long after the party to buy some more weed, a plan that sparked purely out of boredom. Eddie says yes, of course, but tells him if he wants it today he will need to wait till after school and meet Eddie at his place, since he was busy. So Steve takes a trip to the Munson trailer to make his deal. Eddie invites him inside and they sit together on the couch as he gets Steve’s bag ready. They end up making quite pleasant conversation, joking around and ultimately finding they are really enjoying each other’s company. They enjoy it so much so, that Steve ends up smoking there, with Eddie. So now they are kind of like, hanging out? And it’s fun, so they do it again. Still they’re not, friends friends, they just get along. Eddie just sells Steve weed sometimes and they keep it civil.

He doesn’t hear from Steve for a while, and the next time he sees him it’s from a distance, in passing. The man has the most roughed up face Eddie has ever seen, bruised and swollen in multiple areas, stitches and bandages all over. It’s really, concerning? completely metal, but alarming. This is the second time Eddie has seen the guy all beaten up like that. He knew that boys fight, but surely not that bad? As worried as he was, Eddie doesn’t approach him to ask questions, because they don’t know eachother like that. So he goes on about his day, and he doesn’t see Steve again after that for quite some time.

Then it’s summer, Eddie isn’t graduating again, and he’s not really sure what to do with himself over the break. The new mall has just opened up, and there’s a cool music store up on the second floor that he likes to visit sometimes with his band friends. And wouldn’t you know, working at the Scoops Ahoy located directly across from his favourite store, is Steve Harrington. The guy hasn’t come to Eddie for any weed since last year, and then there was that sighting where he looked like he’d just fallen face first into a flying fist or two, so it’s been a minute since Eddie’s seen him. And he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a nice surprise. He only goes into scoops once. He’s curious, okay? Sue him. And, he knows the girl who works with him, Robin. So he plays it off like he had no idea he’d see Steve there. And to his surprise, Steve actually acknowledges him. He doesn’t act like Eddie is a total stranger just because they’re not in school anymore. The interaction is quick, they make very casual conversation, Eddie says hi to Robin, grabs his milkshake and goes home. That’s all. He doesn’t go back, and he doesn’t really plan to. Steve’s nice, and he knows Eddie’s around if he needs to buy from him again, and that’s really as far as their relationship goes. That’s all it ever was. It’s been fun getting to know Steve Harrington a little bit better, even if it was just for a short time. Eddie liked having the chance to see in past the quaffed hair and pressed polo shirts to learn that Steve was really just a person under it all. He never thought he’d say it, but Harrington wasn’t so bad. It was a nice little eye opening experience for Eddie.

Eddie was ready to write off his little blips of interaction with Steve Harrington as a thing of the past, no hard feelings, and move on with his life. That is, until he gets a knock at his front door in the middle of the night afew days after the big mall fire. And it’s Steve on the other side. And he looks awful, his face is the worst Eddie’s ever seen it. And he wasn’t really knocking, more like pounding. He says he needs Eddie’s help.

What the fuck?

[mrslilyrogers]

All I have to do is Dream Part 2

Pairing: Steve x Reader, Telepath! Reader (X-men reader)

Summary: It’s been five years since the snap. You and Steve are stuck at an impasse. You want a family, he doesn’t. He says he’s moved on but has he really? With your doubts growing, you consider risking his trust and use your powers on him to get your answers once and for all.

Author’s note: I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before but reader here has studied at the Xavier Institute so she’s basically part of the X-men. You don’t have to read the comics or watch their movies, it is just part of her background. This is based on Endgame and would follow its progression. If you want to be tagged, please send an ask!! Thank you all for reading!!! 

Part 1 

Steve’s jaw twitched, his throat muscles working, eyes never leaving the photo on his phone. He pursed his lips and let out a huge exhale, running a hand on his face. What the hell had you done?

Nat didn’t question when he came back to the compound late last night nor when he didn’t show up the morning after, only learning from F.R.I.D.A.Y, he was up earlier than his usual and left. He came back a few hours ago, sweaty and gruff, immediately rushing to lock himself up at the gym. Wallowing there until now. 

She had known Steve long enough to know he was blowing off steam. She knew better than to pry, letting him keep to himself until he was ready to talk, and Steve was glad for it. Glad he still had one friend who cared. 

What the hell had you done? 

—————————-

You jolted from the bed, Steve’s eyes drilling holes in your direction from where he sat stiffly beside you, his mouth pressed into a thin disapproving line. If only looks could kill. You had never seen him so angry in your life. His breath coming in rapid pants, his fists clenched tight at his sides, the muscles around his neck and arms bulging. You felt naked under his gaze, bared to the soul with nowhere to hide. Ironic when just a few moments ago, you had breached into his mind, violating his privacy to the utmost. 

“Y/N,” he said, deathly low and lethal, a warning. 

“Steve, I’m sorry I didn’t know--” you scrambled to your feet, panic rising up to your throat, cheeks wet with tears. 

“Bullshit!” He roared, not letting you finish, shooting up to his feet like the soldier he was. His tightly coiled temper finally unleashed. “You went inside my head! Don’t you fucking give me any excuses!”

In his anger, he threw the analog clock from his bedside table to the floor, breaking it into tiny pieces instantly, the sound of it cracking and your crying the only things filling the air. You didn’t recognize the sobs coming from you, not even knowing if it was from what you’ve just discovered or the way he looked at you now. As if he didn’t know you, as if he could never trust you again. 

“I’m sorry,” was all you said. And you were. In every sense of the word. Sorry for yourself, sorry for what you’ve learned, sorry for what you’ve done. 

“How could you do this to me?” Steve asked, disbelieving. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just��� I overheard you at grief counseling--”

“You what?” He hissed, eyes incredulous and accusing. “Are you fucking spying on me now?” he pointed his finger at you, circling the bed to stand in front of you, his steps quick and long. He looked like he did on missions. One purpose, ready to attack. It was a miracle he kept his fists at his sides instead of shaking you. 

“NO! No, I was waiting outside and I heard what you said, and it’s made me think…” 

“No, you didn’t think! I told you time and time again, I love you. What more do you fucking need?” His voice grew even louder, exasperation and impatience seeping out of him as if he had been putting up with you for so long.

What more do you need? What more do you need?

“The truth, Steve! I just wanted to know the truth!” You answered back, voice rising in return. The whole time you thought you were only being paranoid, insecure, blaming it on yourself when you weren’t wrong all along. He still wanted her. Yearned for her. 

“And are you happy now? You happy that you’ve forced it out of me?” Steve’s tone turned mocking, his eyes hard and jaw tensed. No denial, no guilt. He baited you and if he had enough presence of mind, he wouldn’t have said that, wouldn’t have deliberately gone out of his way to cut you deep. But right at this moment, all he saw was red. He wanted to hurt you, to punch, to scream. His hands shook, in the need to destroy something, to fight someone. Fists bringing out what he couldn’t put forth into words. He knew he had to leave. 

You flinched from his words as if you’ve been physically slapped. Eyes full of hurt, you were speechless, immobilized to the spot, no other choice but to take it all in and watch him as he bristled past you, heading to the direction of your shared closet, grabbing his duffel bag and stuffing it with whatever he could get his hands on. 

“Wait, where are you going?” your voice was small, hands shaking while you clutched the end of your shirt. 

“I can’t even look at you right now,” 

“So is this it? Is that all you have to say?” You pleaded, a part of you still hoping he’d deny everything you saw. That it was just all it ever was, a dream. A fantasy from another life. That it didn’t mean anything. That he’d pick you, the one who was here, someone he could actually build a future with. Over a dead woman, a woman who belonged to another decade, another lifetime. 

“Since you’re so good at getting into people’s minds, why don’t you tell me?” He taunted, turning his back to you, roughly shoving his toiletries in his bag.

“That’s not fair, Steve!” 

“Fair? You want to talk about being fair when you broke my trust! You promised, Y/N. Does that only mean something when it’s convenient to you?” He turned around this time, nostrils flaring, finger pointing offensively at you again. You were so close to him now, could practically feel the heat radiating off his body. And you were scared. You were scared to lose him. Because you knew whatever happened tonight couldn’t be reversed. The things he said, the things you did, there was no going around it anymore. 

“Do you want me to say I don’t love Peggy anymore, is that it? Is that what you wanna hear? Because I can’t. I still love her!” His voice boomed around you, shaking you to your core. Fresh, hot tears trailed down your cheeks. You were helpless. Broken. 

As soon as the words left him, he knew he’d regret it. At the way you looked, so small and vulnerable, hugging your arms to your chest, his eyes softened,  “Y/N…” he moved towards you, hands out to comfort you but you backed away. 

Shaking your head vehemently, you took another step back. You didn’t want his touch, didn’t want him near you. 

“No, no. Don’t.” you stayed a hand up to stop him. “It’s alright. You’re right,” 

“Y/N, that’s not--” 

“I think you should leave.” you pointed to the bag already in his hand. Your resolve, sure and strong. 

“Y/N, I didn’t--” he tried again, shaking his head. How could he take those words back? Did he not mean them too? God help him but he loved them both. 

“Steve, please stop. Just stop. Don’t make this any harder than it already is,” you pleaded, not knowing what else he wanted from you. You gave him an out; clear and easy. Wasn’t that enough? Did he have to hurt you even more?

“I shouldn’t have said those things,” He let out on a sigh, shaking his head. “But sweetheart, please don’t look at me like that,” You looked like a terrified deer, ready to run at the first sign of danger and he couldn’t bear that it was directed at him. He could handle your tenacity, your fire, anything else but the defeated look on your face. It made his heart ache.

He tried again, speaking gently, “Y/N, if you want me to leave for the night, I will. I think you might be right, we need some space after this, clear our heads,” 

This time, he went near you and you let him, you let his hands hold your arms like he’s done in past arguments. You let him look you straight in the eye like he’s done so many times before. You let him say his piece, already knowing where it was headed like the back of your hand. You operated like this. Clockwork. When one pushed, the other shoved. 

One last time. 

“But promise me you’ll be here in the morning to talk. You went inside my head, Y/N, but I wanna work through this. I love you,” he said it like he meant it, his heart on his sleeve but you weren’t so sure you believed him anymore. 

“You know I love you, right?” He asked just like the last time. Clockwork. 

No. I don’t. 

You nodded your head. 

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

He tossed and turned that night, the look of hurt on your face scarred in his memory. He knew he shouldn’t have left, knew he should’ve fought to stay.

It was true that he was furious but any animosity he felt immediately simmered after the mention of Peggy. He was way out of line. He wanted to apologize, to pull you into his arms and kiss away the bitter words he spoke but he was still so shaken about what you had done, what you had seen, and so he figured he should let it rest first, giving you both time and space to calm down. Everything looked better in the morning, right? 

But your face came unbidden in his mind, he could still remember the exact moment you closed yourself off to him, your eyes hauntingly empty and hollow, shoulders hunched, arms instinctively wrapped to yourself. So small and vulnerable. 

He should’ve stayed, dammit! 

He let out a grunt as he stared up at the ceiling. He still couldn’t believe you used your abilities on him, couldn’t believe you’d go so far when you’d never ever shied away from asking him anything. Heck, you’d basically proposed to him with all your nagging of starting a family.

Why did you have to see that?

He hissed and shook his head, guilt gnawing in his stomach. Your power was able to force out his deepest dreams and desires. But was that the whole truth? If he hadn’t woken up and you’d stuck a little longer then you would’ve known just how scared and confused he was. What you saw was the Steve who still clung to the past, the part of him that wanted to go back, yearned to go back because it was safer, it was where he truly belonged. 

But then again, he wasn’t that same man anymore, was he? Not fully anyway. In more ways than one, he had moved on. For the past couple of years, he did, in fact, envision a future with you. He was going to propose until the snap happened and then, everything changed. He saw his friends, his family, gone to dust. He could still hear Bucky’s echoing words, calling out to him. All those lost souls vanished as if they never existed while he stood, helpless and useless. Why spare him again? Why did he have to go through it all again? Didn’t he have enough pain and loss in one lifetime? 

And so he started thinking of the past. The good ol’ days, if you could even really call it that. It started out as a tiny flicker of curiosity. You both had just found a new apartment in New York, it wasn’t all that hard with the sudden vacancies. You were standing in the middle of the room, hands on your hips while he sat at the edge of the bed his head bowed, elbows resting on his knees. 

“Steve, we need to start thinking of the future. I know it’s hard but they’re not coming back and we can’t keep doing what we’re doing. We can get away from all this, you know, start a new life. Don’t you want that too?”

He swallowed a lump in his throat. He wanted to fight, to try again and again until he got everyone back. He was grieving, angry, and above all, guilty. Why couldn’t he do what he was made for in the first place? How did he let all of this happen? And why, for god’s sake, why did he have to survive while the others vanished?

But you were right. Of course, you were right. The ever practical and optimistic you. He looked at you with tired eyes, not wanting to argue, and nodded his head. He still had you, that was a win. For every shitty thing that happened since, at least you were alive and he wouldn’t trade that for the world but some jaded, cynical part of him questioned how long that would last. The universe clearly had a bone to pick with him and it was only a matter of time before you were taken from him too and that scared the living shit out of him.  

And so he had started to wonder what if?

What if he never had to wake up from the ice? What if he never had to crash the plane in the first place? What if he was where he was really supposed to be? 

All those questions drifted down into one person, the one that got away. Peggy.  She was his link to the past, everything that was sweet and wonderful. The dance he missed, the future he wanted when everything settled down into peace after the war. Peace. As ironic as that sounded, she reminded him of peace. The little dream he had in the back of his head whenever he infiltrated a nazi base camp. Every mission, every fight, he would think one more of this and the war would be over, one more and I get back to her. Peace. 

He craved for that peace so much, he didn’t even realize what he had been doing. He lived in that dream, longing for the time he could never get back. All the while you were hurting, so desperately trying to cling on to him while he slipped into himself. You needed him but he continued to chase the life he lost, for all his talk of moving on. He didn’t even realize how his fear of losing you has led him down to the very verge of it and now, he was anxious and afraid. So so afraid. You wouldn’t leave him, would you? God, he’d do anything, drop everything, to follow you.

That realization just made his head spin, was he really willing to let everything go just like that? Of course, he was. There was no question about it. Nothing else mattered if it meant losing you. It was a damned shame he only realized that now. 

We can work through this, he thought to himself. He couldn’t let you go, wouldn’t let you go. It didn’t even matter what you had done anymore, not right now, not when all he wanted was for you to know everything, that above all, he was choosing you. He loves you. 

I’ll make this work. We’ll make this work. 

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

He stared at his friend’s face, her red hair already outgrowing the blonde curls that framed her frowning face. She couldn’t believe it. Hell, even he didn’t believe it. How could you? 

--

Before the sun had even risen, he was already up, tying his shoelaces with his jittery hands. He had never been so nervous in his life. Not even when he had to crash his own plane, with that came a sense of doom and certainty but this? This was torture. This was hell. 

What was he going to say? How was he going to explain himself? What could he do to make you stay?

What you had done the night before, invading his most private thoughts, had been pushed to the side. In his heart, he had already forgiven you, understood why you had to do what you did. He knew you, the kind of person you were and you would never have done it had you not thought it was necessary. And with everything that he’s done and what you heard, could he really judge you for it? 

He rushed into the apartment, his heart already heavy. He couldn’t find it in himself to wait until you woke up and instead gave a tentative, “Y/N?” as he poked his head into the bedroom door, the sight of it knocking the air right out of him. 

No, no, no, no, no. 

The neatly made up bed greeted him, curtains drawn back to illuminate the empty room. His heart dropped to his stomach, “No, no, no, no, no,” 

“Y/N?” he shouted into the room, somehow hoping he was mistaken, that you were still here, that you’d show up. 

Did you really leave him? Could you really have done that?

He ran to the bathroom, calling out to you, but it was the same as he had left it. Except all of your stuff was gone. Your toiletries by the sink, all the little hair ties you kept lying around. Gone. 

How could you do this to him? How could you leave without saying goodbye? 

All the clothes he had always folded for you after you tossed them in the closet weren’t there anymore. Any trace of you was now gone. He let out a curse, his cold hand fumbling for his phone in his pocket. No messages, no calls.

“Come on, pick up,” He prayed into the phone. Please, please, please. When the monotonous operator answered, he let out a shout,

“Fuck!” 

Throwing his phone unto the bed, he realized even the clock he had thrown in his temper had been cleaned away, a letter laid down on where it was supposed to be. 

He picked it up quickly, his breathing rapid at the two simple words scrawled in your distinct handwriting. 

I’m sorry. 

Crumbling the paper in his fist, he shakily put it to his pale lips. Breathe...

What were you thinking? You couldn’t have even left a number to contact you? How was he supposed to find you now? He felt himself grow weak in the knees. He knew the type of training you had with the X-men, if you didn’t want to found, you wouldn’t. 

Had he lost you forever? 

Hands shaking at the thought, he ran. Ran to get away from his emotions. Lost, angry and hurt. What the hell had you done? 

What the hell had you done?

--

Natasha let out an exhale, bringing him out of his reverie. The look of hurt still evident on her face, she couldn’t believe you’d just leave without saying goodbye.

“If there’s one thing I know is that she loves you. You need to fix this, Steve,” 

Before he could even reply, the front gate’s access flashed before her. Mindlessly swiping it, they both turned to the monitor, their minds still preoccupied on where you could be. The man standing outside, waving his arms about looked eerily familiar but that couldn’t be...

Scott Lang?

Oh god, what now?

[the-bau-quinjet]

Can you please do like a sequel of Shut Up where Bucky and the reader team up against Sam????

Oops...

Warnings: fluff!!

Word Count: 1438

a/n: Sorry this took so long! It took me a while to think of a prank that wasn't too terribly mean...

Shut Up!

Masterlist

"Y/N." Bucky whined, his hands holding tightly to one of your own. "We have to do something to Sam!"

You laughed at his childlike behavior. Ever since your first date with Bucky, which went surprisingly well considering how nervous the both of you were, Bucky has been pestering you about teaming up against Sam.

Rather than responding, you pulled out your phone, quickly playing the video of Steve in his Captain America suit rattling on about patience.

"We need a plan first." You laid back on your bed, pulling Bucky along since he still held your hand.

"One: why do you have that video so readily available? Two: I have a plan." He smiled maniacally. "Turn him into a bird."

You scrunched up your face. "One: for moments like this, duh." You answered his first question.

I am definitely 100% in love with her. Bucky's thoughts ran wild.

"Two: I already made you a cat. You need to be more creative." You laughed at his pouty face.

How is he so perfect?

"Like what?" He bounced on the bed, fully embracing the childlike temper tantrum.

"I don't know. We could make Friday only call him Bird Brain for a day. Or make it so Redwing only responds to being called 'toy plane'." You thought about random prank ideas, trying to think of something that would bother him, but still be funny. Bucky looked at you fondly as you listed ideas.

How is she so perfect.

"I've got it." Bucky grinned smugly earning a raised eyebrow from you. "Can you make it so he can only say song lyrics?"

You thought to yourself for a minute before finally nodding.

"Embarrassing song lyrics?" He added, the mischief clear in his eyes.

"Now you're talking. What are you thinking? Early Jonas Brothers? High School Musical? Hannah Montana?" Your smile grew with each new artist you listed.

"Perfect. Now we just have to think of a way for him to eat something we give him."

Bucky was pacing, clearly deep in thought.

"Actually, I didn't need to make you eat that cookie. I could've just turned you into a cat with the flick of a wrist." You grinned at his wide eyes.

"What? Why then?"

"Because. It was more fun to see how paranoid you were about eating anything I gave you."

Bucky pouted, although he had to admit it made sense.

I am definitely in love with this man. You shook your head, trying to clear the thoughts.

"C'mon. We've got to make a plan."

-

You worked your magic on Sam on a day when you knew everyone would be around the compound. He was minding his own business, trying to watch a movie when you and Bucky suddenly appeared.

"Hey, Sam. How you doing?" You asked with a fake air of innocence.

"I'm hot. You're cold. You go around, like you know-" He instantly burst into song, eyes widening. He threw his hands over his mouth, trying to prevent anything else from coming out.

You played it cool, but the twinkle in Bucky's eye easily gave away your prank.

"What's going on? This can't be happening. Don't tell me it's a song!" Sam switched songs, eyes narrowing. He continued singing, despite his clear protests.

"Oh, it's a song." You grinned, leaning into Bucky who wrapped an arm around you.

I love her so much.

Sam shook his head in response, leaving the common area. He figured it would only last a few hours, so all he had to do was avoid people talking to him.

What he didn't account for was Tony's "impromptu" team building night. In reality, you suggested to Tony that maybe the team needed more time together not fighting anyone, and he ran with the idea.

"Alright party people! What should we play first?" Tony gestured to the massive table filled with various board games.

"I've always loved clue!" You grinned, knowing what would come next.

"Clue it is! Who does everyone want to be?" Tony questioned, laying out the various pieces.

"Who will I be? It's up to me. All the never ending possibilities, that I can see." Sam immediately burst into song, surprising most everyone around the table.

"Oh, I wouldn't say never ending, Sam. I think there's only six!" You patted him on the shoulder, a wide smile on your face.

"What did you do?" Steve asked, eyes narrowing in on you and Bucky.

"Oh, don't worry Cap. It'll only last another..." You glanced at the clock, "four hours." Bucky hid his face in your neck to prevent himself from laughing too obnoxiously.

I love him so much.

"Games and a show. I like it." Nat winked at you, always a fan of your pranks since none were ever directed at her.

"What was he even singing?" Clint stared at you, again unprepared for Sam to answer in song.

"Cause we rock. Camp Rock. We rock, we rock on." Sam glared at you, the expression really not matching the joyous music filling the room.

"He can only sing songs from Disney Channel Original Movies or people who were once on Disney Channel." You smiled to yourself, happy with the limits on the spell. "I do believe the last two were from Camp Rock."

"This should be an interesting night." Bruce shook his head, never one to understand the draw of practical jokes.

"That's an understatement." Steve shook his head. He finally had you and Bucky getting along, so of course you'd do something like this.

-

"Moving on." You pointedly glared at Clint, knowing he was about to bring up Budapest again. "Let's play a team game next."

"Charades?" Bucky suggested, trying to keep it simple enough.

You all split into two teams, Sam being sure to put himself against you and Bucky.

"Sam, you're definitely going down." You goaded, trying to draw out another song.

"Hey now, We no longer wait around. My team's stronger like weights now." He started rapping, or as close to rapping as it gets on Disney.

"Oh my God. That's even better than I expected." You laughed so hard, tears sprung up in your eyes.

"Disney raps now?" Tony questioned, also laughing at Sam's embarrassed face.

"Yes. Lemonade Mouth. An underrated film, honestly." You nodded, completely serious only earning more laughs from the team.

I. Love. You. Bucky's thoughts were written across his face, but somehow went unnoticed by you.

-

"That's okay, Sam." Bucky grinned. "Nobody's perfect."

"Everybody makes mistakes. Everybody has those days. Everybody knows what, what I'm talking 'bout. Everybody gets that way."

You couldn't stop the smile from forming you your face, although rather than laughing at Sam's embarrassment you were now just enjoying Bucky being happy.

I. Love. You.

-

"I hate you both." Sam cleared his throat, no longer used to the sensation of speaking.

"It was Bucky's brilliant idea." You smiled at him. I love you.

"Well, it was Y/N's brilliant execution." He pressed a kiss to your nose. I love you.

"Dear Lord. I can't take this anymore." Wanda erupted, in a similar fashion to the night you turned Bucky into a cat. "I get it. You two love each other. Now, please! Learn how to control your thoughts!"

You and Bucky were wide eyed, stares flitting between Wanda and each other.

"You love me?" Your voice was soft showing how unsure of yourself you were.

Bucky nodded before voicing a similar question. "You love me?"

"Oops..." Wanda hid behind Vision, trying not to draw anymore attention to herself. Thankfully, all eyes were on you and Bucky.

"I really, really do." You whispered, eyes solely focused on Bucky.

Bucky pulled you in for a kiss, heart bursting with joy. He never thought he'd find someone to love him, let alone someone as incredible as you.

"I love you." Bucky whispered against your lips, kissing you between the words.

"I love you too." You kissed him right back, heart fluttering.

"I liked it better when they were constantly fighting." Sam muttered under his breath, earning a punch in the arm from Steve.

"Let them be. They're in love." He sighed with a happy smile. He couldn't help but think about how much Bucky deserved to be happy.

"I don't know if this is the cutest or grossest thing I've ever seen." Nat commented, eyes still focused on you and Bucky's whispered words and soft kisses.

"Grossest. Definitely the grossest." Clint added on, needing to jump out of the way as you and Bucky took off for your room, paying no mind to the many teammates laughing at you as you passed by.

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman @madewithsebstan

[marvels-writings]

Used To

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist

Sequel: World Turned Upside Down

Requested by @trikruismybitch​ : NatxReader, 12,18,19,22,29 <-said by R, angst questions. Nat cheats on R with R’s Bestfriend (Steve or Bucky) Nat saying 44, 23<- angst questions, 26, 49 angst dialogue. Just really angsty maybe include a little confrontation with Nat, R, Steve/Bucky with the avengers witnessing it? I’m in the mood for heartbreak (:</p>

12: “Can’t you see how fucked up this is?”

18: “When did you stop loving me?”

19: “Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”

22: “Which part of me wasn’t enough?”

23: “How do I make you love me again?”

44: “How do we fix this?”

26: “Will you ever forgive me?”

49: “Will I ever see you again?”

Word Count: 6.2k (heartbreakingly good)

A/N: I loved writing this, as tiring and angsty as it was. I think this is one of the drabbles i’ve cried while apologizing and writing it. It’s really good in my opinion, please do me the honor of reading it.

Moonlight blurred with string lights, bringing you into a gradient of golden and white colors. The balcony was set up, the fairy lights adorning the open-air gazebo above you. The light shone through the glass of red wine you held, the blood-like light splattering on your hands as you played with your food.

Natasha’s voice flowed around the small balcony, bringing to light her most recent mission. Her voice the only sound throughout the entire date. It wasn’t like her to ignore your silence, yet here you were. She had spent hours decorating the roof for your date night, even longer learning to make your favorite food and serving it to you, you were almost guilty for not trying to enjoy it.

How could you when your emotions cloud your judgment? The emotions brought from weeks of observing your girlfriend and your best friend. You thought you knew Natasha would never hurt you, you almost wished she wouldn’t.

But everything seemed to be changing around you. Bucky was spending more time with Natasha than before. You could’ve sworn you saw him leave her room just before you came back from a mission. You could’ve sworn you saw the same lovesick smile she wore around you, around him.

You were just being paranoid, you almost hoped you were being paranoid, to the point where you were ignoring the signs she didn’t cover. Today, you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Your girlfriend was wearing an off-shoulder sweatshirt, revealing a hickey on the skin there. You had been on a mission for almost a week, today was the first day you came back. The dark mark was covered heavily in foundation, it showed through the heavy attempt to cover it up.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of it for almost half an hour. Every time you tried to look away or even distract yourself for it, for a few seconds. Your eyes always came back to it.

“What’s wrong?” Natasha asked, a coy smile playing on her lips. “You’ve been quiet lately.”

You tilted your head to the side, considering lying to her, even though it might not work. Taking your eyes off her shoulder to look at her eyes, you set down your fork. The green orbs shone in the soft candlelight, almost distracting you from your turmoil. Almost.

“What?” Nat chuckled, leaning back in her seat, squirming slightly. “I know my cooking isn’t the best, but-”

“When did you stop loving me?” You cut her off, licking your lips nervously.

Your heart hammered against your chest, terrified of her response. What if you were wrong? What if nothing was going on?

Some part of you hoped you were wrong and this would just be another fight. A small voice told you that you were right, you tried desperately to ignore it. You couldn’t, especially when you saw Natasha try to cover up the hickey on her shoulder. It only resulted in smudging the makeup, revealing it more as the cloth slid back.

“I didn’t,” Natasha stated, her brows furrowing in confusion as she leaned forwards into her chair. Her eyes bored into yours, almost asking you why you were upset.

“Then what is this?” You asked, leaning forwards, fingers reaching towards the mark on her shoulder.

 Your hand had barely moved forwards when your girlfriend pulled away. Natasha glanced to the mark before turning towards you. Her face wove itself into a mask, hiding anything she was feeling.

“I, this isn’t.” Natasha stuttered, falling silent when she saw the expression on your face. 

It wasn’t an expression she had seen before. Your lips were pursed tightly, the bags under your eyes seeming more prominent than ever. But your eyes, she wasn’t sure she had ever seen then so despondent.

“How long?” You asked quietly, clearing your throat as your voice trembled. You didn’t want to show how upset you were, not yet. She was barely showing any emotion, you wanted to try to do the same.

“What?” Natasha asked, unsure if she heard you correctly. Her hand inched towards yours on the table, almost flinching when you drew away suddenly.

“How long have you and Bucky been…” You trailed off, you couldn’t say it.

Maybe if you said it, it would become more clear than it is now. Even now, Natasha could deny everything, keeping reality away from you. You weren’t sure if you could handle this reality, starting to prefer if you hadn’t noticed anything.

“Not that long.”

Her mouth opened to speak again, maybe try to make excuses or try to get you to forgive her. You didn’t care, cutting off her lies before she could speak again.

“Don’t lie to me.” You hissed, face morphing into anger as you stared her down. The redhead flinched at your harsh tone, unfamiliar to having it used on her.

Natasha licked her lips, her fingers inching towards the mark to try to cover it up again. It would still be too late, she couldn’t hide the signs once they had been noticed, she couldn’t fix what she broke.

You waited for her to say anything, to tell the truth, to explain why she did this. Nothing, she didn’t speak at all. Her eyes bored into yours as if she was trying to beg you to forgive her with her eyes. You barely noticed when her hand inched towards yours again, her fingers touching yours.

You almost let yourself back into her again.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” Natasha whispered, her thumb drawing patterns on the back of your hand before you quickly drew away. Your thumb rubbed the back of your hand, trying to wipe away the feeling of her touch.

“Sorry?” You scoffed, gesturing vaguely around you. “You think you can just say you’re sorry and that would fix this?”

Natasha hesitated, emotions beginning to leak through her meticulously kept mask. The regret flooding off of her in waves. But underneath it all, you thought you could see a thread of fear. Fear of losing you.

“How do we fix this?” The redhead asked, leaning forwards in her seat. Wincing when she spoke the wrong word. Your eyebrow raised in anger.

“We?” You asked, eyebrow still raised as your arms crossed above your chest. 

Your jaw clenched tightly, muscles tensing as you tried desperately to form some sort of mask. It got harder as you spoke, your voice trembling as tears began to gather in your eyes.

“Natasha, I don’t think you can fix this.” You muttered, hoping you were wrong. 

But there was nothing she could do. The mistake had been made. You had to live with it, even though you wanted to leave it behind.

“You broke everything we had.” You muttered, a tear slipping down your cheek. It looked like liquid gold because of the lighting.

You inhaled sharply when you saw the redhead reach forwards to wipe away your tear. Leaning backward, you almost fell out of your chair when you stood up abruptly. Footsteps neared the door as you tried to leave this mess.

You heard Natasha’s chair clatter to the floor when she stood up to chase after you. Her footsteps barely behind you as she followed you out. More tears began to stream down your face, dropping on the ground below you.

The door slammed shut behind you, leaving Natasha outside. It wasn’t locked, she could follow you if you wanted to. Though, you doubted she would.

You leaned your back against the door, breathing heavily as tears soaked your cheeks. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do. Should you leave? Wait for her in your room? But you couldn’t go back to the same bed where she had forgotten you.

A heavy sigh left your lips as you went in search of someone you could trust.

————

The loud bang of the balcony door was accompanied by rapid footsteps nearing your door. Wanda looked up from her bed, frowning in concern. Pictures were spread out on her bed as she tried to sort through them, wanting to make a photo album.

She expected to hear the sound of your bedroom door slamming shut. It was usually what happened after you fought with Natasha. This time, it didn’t happen.

Waves of anger and despair hit her as the footsteps neared your door. The slam still didn’t sound, she decided you might be waiting for someone. She bit her lip, nervously walking towards her closed door to open it.

The door handle twisted slowly before revealing you. 

You stood in front of her door, your hand raised as if you were just about to knock. Tears stained your face, your eyes still glistening with them. Your hair was messy as if you’d been running your hands through it. Your hand dropped as she opened the door, your fingers wringing together as you glanced down.

“Y/n, what happened?” Wanda asked, opening the door a little wider. Her brows furrowed in concern as you avoided eye contact with her. Your entire body seemed to be shivering despite the warmth inside.

“Can I, can I come in?” You stuttered, shivering a little more. The witch nodded and let go of the door. But you didn’t seem to notice the gesture, your eyes vacant as you watched her.

“Of course.” She stated, stepping back to give you room to step in. The witch glanced around outside, incase Natasha was behind you. She spotted her red hair, glancing towards your girlfriend as she began to close the door.

Green eyes stared at the witch as she closed the door. It shut with a soft click, Wanda licked her lips nervously. Guilt rolled off Natasha in waves, the witch could almost hear her thoughts through the door. 

Shutting her off, she sighed and turned towards you.

You stood near her bed uncomfortably, glancing towards the pictures. Your eyes seemed to linger on the pictures of you with Natasha, more tears beginning to form in your eyes. Your lip slid in between your teeth, watching the images before turning back around to face Wanda.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, gesturing to the bed for you to sit.

Hesitantly, you sat down, not before moving away the pictures laying there. One of the pictures were when you had celebrate your second anniversary with Natasha, Wanda was posing behind both of you as you took a picture.

 Your fingers ran over your happy smiles with an air of nostalgia.

“It’s Nat, she,” You bit your lip harder, willing the tears to stop flowing.

 They spilled forth anyway, a drop of blood staining your lip from where you were biting it so hard. Letting your lip loose, more tears spilled forth. A sob wrenched its way from your throat as you hunched over, eyes stinging.

Wanda sat down in front of you, one of her hands resting on your knee. She tried to look at you, looking up at you to see your face. Your hands covered your face in a hasty attempt to hide your mess. Your back shook sporadically as you shivered, your body wracked with sobs.

Red wisps caught your eye, you glanced towards it before turning to look up at Wanda. Her hand gestured towards your head. She looked at you innocently, hoping you would let her see what had happened.

It wasn’t the first time Wanda had asked. 

You had come to her many times with nightmares or something that left you broken. She helped you with her powers, using them to help you instead of harming others. You trusted her completely, more than Natasha.

You nodded weakly, trying to bring the argument to the front of your mind. The images began to play through, the hickey on her shoulder, Bucky leaving the room once you came back from a mission, the looks they shared. All of it came to the front of your mind.

Wanda looked slightly confused, unsure of what was happening as she probed further. You tried to conjure an image of them in the act. But you couldn’t, more tears began to fall from your eyes as you tried to clear your mind.

But one image kept showing, no matter what. The same smile Natasha always wore when she told you she loved you. Her lies kept coming back to you.

Wanda’s eyes widened as red wisps stopped flowing between her fingers. Her eyes bored into yours, emotions running through her. The main one being shock.

“She, oh my god,” Wanda stuttered, unable to believe it.

Your relationship with Natasha was the strongest she had seen. You had plans for the future, promises to get through everything together. All of it made you what you were. For Natasha to tear that all down for a few nights of sex, she couldn’t wrap her mind around it.

By the looks of it, neither could you.

“y/n, I’m so sorry.” She whispered though a part of her knew it wouldn’t help. Her hand rested on top of yours comfortingly, trying to provide whatever support she could.

You nodded staring down at her hand nervously. Tears fell from your eyes, streaming down to your shirt and soaking it. Your lips pursed together before you drew your hand away from Wanda’s.

The witch let the silence settle over you, waiting for you to speak. There was nothing she could do, nothing she could say to make this go away. She stayed silent, hoping you would speak eventually. Though, a part of her hoped you wouldn’t say anything, instead seeking comfort in the silence.

“Why?” You asked, voice cracking as you spoke. You bit your lip tightly, trying to steady yourself. Taking in a deep breath, you turned to face Wanda.

Her heart broke a little seeing you like this. Your eyes were turning red and puffy, tears still falling from them. You looked at her with so much pain in your eyes, like you’d watched something die.

In a way you had.

“Why the fuck did she do this?” You asked again, your voice steadier than last time. It still broke slightly as you leaned back against the headboard. Your jaw clenched as you waited for the witch to answer.

You didn’t know what you expected her to answer. Maybe she would tell you it was a mistake, or this was just a bad dream you needed to wake up from. 

Part of you hoped for that last reason, almost clinging onto it like a lifeline.

“I don’t know,” Wanda whispered, shattering the last of your hopes.

You licked your lips, tasting the salt from your tears, remembering how Natasha used to wipe them away. You could feel the ghost of her touch her thumbs running over your cheeks as you cried. 

Her comfort after you had a nightmare. 

Her lips on your skin as she drew you out of your mind’s hell.

You wiped your face angrily, trying to wipe away the ghost of her touch. The last thing you wanted was to be seeking comfort from the same woman who broke you. Turning to Wanda, you saw the gears turning in her head as she tried to come up with a solution.

“Maybe you can still work this out?” Wanda suggested timidly, cowering slightly.

You huffed, running one hand through your hair as you stood up. Voice caught in your throat, you coughed before speaking. The witch moved away from you, knowing she had said what you didn’t want to hear.

“Wanda, I don’t think…” You trailed off, palms digging into your eyes to stop the tears from flowing. 

A broken groan escaped you, the pain worsening. Your chest tightening as your arms fell to your sides. You gave up, a sigh leaving your lips as you stared down at her.

“Can’t you see how fucked up this is?” You asked, eyebrows furrowing. It was as if you were begging her to see your point of view. 

Wanda winced as she shook her head, waiting for you to explain. You almost didn’t want to, scared of narrating your worst nightmare.

“I wasn’t enough for the only person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.” You muttered, jaw clenching shut tightly.

Memories came back to you, memories of talking to Natasha about your dreams. Everything you wanted to do later, from the small cabin on the lakeside, to what you wanted to name your children. 

All of your plans, even to the small outdoor wedding you had planned. 

All of the things you wanted to do with her, gone.

“And Bucky, of all people,” You sighed, running one hand through your hair, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Deflating, you sighed as your anger began to leave you. An empty feeling taking it’s place as tears continued to stream once more.

“even if it was a stranger it wouldn’t be that bad.” You said, another heavy sigh leaving your lips as you set your hands onto your lap. You leaned backward, laying down on the bed, fidgeting with your fingers as the witch watched you.

Bucky is, no, was your best friend. He had helped you through your hardest of places, you’d helped him once he came back from HYDRA. He was the person you wanted to go to after a long day to rant about, the person you trusted most.

 It was almost ironic that he did this.

“When, when you and Vision broke up, how did you cope?” You asked, turning to face Wanda. 

Her lips were pursed, she wanted to keep the answer to herself. You had been there when the breakup had happened, you had seen how miserable she was. But she pilled through it in a matter of months.

“Y/n…” Wanda trailed off, not wanting to answer. She wasn’t sure if you were going to break up with Natasha, she almost hoped you wouldn’t.

“Please?” You asked again, watching her carefully. Wanda caved with a heavy sigh, avoiding eye contact with you as she spoke.

“I had a few one night stands.” She confessed, glancing up at your. “Then I left for a month, to take a break from everything.”

You huffed in frustration, her answer wasn’t something you had hoped for. If it was something you wanted to do, you would’ve gone for it. But one night stands, it didn’t make sense. 

Leaving everything, that seemed a better option, even though it shouldn’t.

Wanda watched you carefully, seeing what you were going to do. She could see you weren’t going to do what she did. But you might leave, she couldn’t blame you if you did.

“You’re not the kind of person for one night stands,” Wanda stated, her jaw clenching as she noticed your posture stiffen. You relaxed slightly as you spoke, your words more of a quiet confession than an answer.

“No,”

“But you want to hurt her the same way she hurt you.” She continued, hoping she was wrong. 

The look you gave her confirmed she was right.

Your pain was morphing into anger, wanting Natasha to feel some of the pain she was causing you. The last thing you had wanted to cause her was pain, after this, you weren’t sure what you wanted anymore.

“You didn’t need to read my mind to figure that out.” You scoffed, turning away from her towards the window. The stars shone in the sky, the clouds nearing the slowly to cover the light that remained.

“I didn’t,” Wanda whispered, almost too quietly for you to hear.

Silence filled the room again as you considered what to do next. What options were there, you could stay and try to work things out or break up with Natasha. Or you could leave, away from this giant mess she had created. You had the right to.

“Do you think I should leave? Take a break?” You asked, turning towards the witch. She shrugged, not knowing what to answer. Her knees were curled up to her chest, her chin resting comfortably on top as she watched you.

“I think you should do what’s best for yourself,” Wanda answered, truly thinking so for the first time. 

She didn’t want you to leave, but it was probably what was best for you.

You chuckled sadly, wiping away the tear stains on your face. A hand-wound itself in your hair as you smiled again. Your eyes glazed over as memories continued to filter through your head.

“You know, I used to think that Natasha was the best thing that happened to me, the best thing for me.” You turned to face Wadna, silent tears streaming down your face. 

They rolled off your cheek and into the blanket below you, creating small stains. Your words stung you, a crushing feeling in your chest as you continued speaking.

“That being with her was all I would ever need.” You continued, feeling the air leave your lungs as you remembered the feeling. The feeling of looking at her and thinking, almost knowing that this was all you needed for the rest of your life.

Natasha was all you had needed.

“I used to think she felt the same.” You muttered, turning to face the ceiling. Your arms felt heavier than they should be, too heavy to wipe your face. You let them remain there, licking your lips again. Aware of the pitiful green eyes watching you.

Wanda stayed silent, unsure if you were finished. Even if you were, there wasn’t much she could say. 

You opened your mouth again, closing it as you chose your words carefully. A broken chuckle left your lips as you turned on your side, propping your head on your arm.

“How foolish, I used to think she loved me.”

Your words resounded in the room, circling back to you as you spoke them. They were so tired like you’d already given up on Natasha. You’d given up on everything you had, even your plans.

Wanda watched you turn away from her to sleep. The crying had worn you out, you found some comfort in thinking your mind couldn’t come up with a nightmare worse than your reality.

There wasn’t anything she could do to comfort you. If she tried to reassure you, maybe tell you that Natasha loved you, she would be lying. 

You had already been through enough lies.

She sighed, pulling up her knees and taking a book from the nightstand. Sleep wasn’t something that would come easily to her. Your thoughts were still too loud, she did her best to try to comfort you using her powers.

Eventually, you fell into a dreamless sleep. 

One devoid of lies and Natasha, one almost better than the reality you were in.

————

Noise from the bathroom filled the room as you lay on the bed. Sunlight streamed through the open blinds into your eyes. Wanda was in the bathroom, you were alone in the small bedroom. The pictures which were there last night had been moved.

Treasuring the small moments of the morning, you avoided the events of yesterday as you hoisted yourself of the bed. 

Honestly, you weren’t sure what you were going to do. Natasha was still in the compound, waiting to talk to you. She wasn’t one to run away after fights, you were.

Rapid knocking sounded on the door. Your head snapped to the doorway, waiting for a voice to sound.

“Y/n?” Natasha called, the door muffling her concerned voice. “Please, I know you’re in there.”

You froze at hearing her voice, convincing yourself she would go away if you didn’t do anything. Soft footsteps sounded near the bathroom. Wanda stood in the doorway, hair wet from her shower as she watched you.

It was up to you to let her in. If you talked to her, what good could come out of it? Maybe the apology, maybe a plea, but nothing enough to make you stay. If you didn’t want to talk to her, you knew you could ask Wanda.

 But it wouldn’t make this go away. It would only delay the inevitable.

Licking your lips dryly, you shook your head, deciding not to talk to her. Wanda nodded to you, heading towards the door to tell her off. The lock sounded as the doorknob rattled, along with the sound of a lock being picked.

Your eyes widened slightly as the door opened. Natasha stood behind the half-open doorway. You looked away from her as she came in, jumping to your feet.

“Y/n-” Natasha began, not getting in another word as you whirled to face her.

“NO!” You shouted, finally looking at her. Her eyes were red and swollen, hair messy but she still looked like the same woman who had lied to you. You couldn’t do this, not now.

“Natasha, I don’t want to talk to you.” You stated, keeping your voice level to not scream at her. Wanda glanced at both of you, unsure what to do. You stared her down, waiting for her response.

“Please? Just let me apologize.” Natasha pleaded, wincing under your gaze. Her eyes bore into yours, looking for any sort of response. But you’d shut yourself down, adamant to not give her any reaction. though, you doubted that would last.

“Let me try to fix this.” She asked, hoping to get a response from you, hoping you would let her explain.

But you didn’t, you scoffed and raised an eyebrow. Your arms crossed over your chest confrontationally as you looked at her. Heart hammering in your chest, you tried to stop feeling. Stop feeling everything, the nostalgia of what you were, the pain of this, everything.

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough?” You asked, voice cracking as you spoke.

Natasha paused, the answer clear in itself. She had done enough, there was nothing she could do to fix this. Explaining it could only make it worse. What could she explain anyway? 

Explain why you weren’t enough for her?

You didn’t want to stay near her. It was strange, how her mistake managed to turn everything upside down. You used to think of her as your home, the only place you felt safe and protected. Now, you’d give anything to be away from her.

Shoving past her, you headed out the door. Natasha didn’t hesitate to follow you, arm reaching out when she stopped herself.

You didn’t know where you were going, storming into the common room where the rest of the team was. They glanced up at you coming in, Natasha and Wanda at your heels.

“Y/n, please stay, just-” Natasha began, reaching out for you again. You turned around at her words, close to shoving her away from you before she stepped away.

Bucky looked up at both of you guiltily while the rest of the Avengers observed. None of them knew about your fight yesterday. Natasha had kept it under wraps, hoping she could fix this before they found out.

“Why the fuck should I stay, Natasha?” You asked, voice cracking as tears began to form in your eyes.

 The whirlwind of emotions you were avoiding caught up with you. A sob choked in your throat as you glanced away from her.

“Why should I stay when everything I gave you still wasn’t enough for you?” You demanded, stepping closer to her to look her in the eye.

Natasha avoided looking at you, trying her hardest to mask her emotions. Every question you asked cracked her mask more until it began to break. The weight of her mistake was bearing down on her, nearing like a wrecking ball. She was scared it was too late to fix the wreckage.

“Why should I stay when everything we were,” You said, wiping your face hastily to clear the tears. “everything we could have been didn’t matter to you?”

You clenched your jaw tightly, unexpectant towards answers to your questions. You watched her, thinking she would lie to you again. But she didn’t, she stared down at the ground as her eyes grew watery.

Her mask finally broke.

Tears slipped down her face, dripping onto the floor, landing with the soft patter of raindrops. Showing emotion wasn’t common to her, crying was out of the question. She had rarely let you see her breakdown, let alone the rest of the team.

Silence shrouded the room in an ugly cloud. Natasha’s sobs the only sound in the room. No one dared to move, watching both of you intently. The redhead opened her mouth, closing it after as she weighed her words.

“You should stay because I love you,” Natasha whispered, her voice barely loud enough for you to hear.

You licked your lips slowly, eyes tracing the tears falling down her cheeks. A small part of you wanted to wipe them away, to never hurt her again. It was what you’d promised her after all, to never hurt her or lie to her.

It never occurred to you that she would be the one hurting you. That she would be the one who should have made that promise.

“I don’t love you anymore.” You stated, keeping your voice as flat as you could.

Natasha looked up to you, searching your face for your tell. She couldn’t see it, staring at you, desperately hoping you were lying. It was like she was searching for you, but instead of looking for the truth, she was looking for the lie.

There wasn’t one. 

You were telling her the truth.

“Not after this,” You muttered, facade breaking as you let out a sigh. Your eyes slipped to Bucky, who looked up at you. Shutting your eyes tightly, you looked away from him, unable to look him in the eye.

There wasn’t anything you could say. Your heart thudded dully in your chest, the nervousness of seeing Natasha wearing down. Now, you were just upset and angry. All you wanted was to leave.

But there was a question you needed to ask her.

“How do I make you love me again?” Natasha asked, speaking before you could. 

You sighed again, a despondent sound as you looked back up at her. Your eyes were vacant, sad like you’d given up on her.

“I don’t think you can Nat.” You whispered. A sad smile graced your lips, twisting the corners of your mouth into a broken look.

You turned around, about to leave when you remembered the question you’d been asking yourself the moment all of this began. You didn’t want to ask her, scared of the answer. But you wanted to know.

“Just tell me one thing.” You began, turning back around to face her. Natasha looked up at you hopefully, but your expression was serious, crushing her hopes easily.

“Which part of me wasn’t enough for you?”

Natasha opened her mouth but closed it after. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She should have answered something. Maybe lie to you, tell you that nothing was wrong with you. But she didn’t admit it, staying silent.

“No, I genuinely don’t understand.” You ran one hand through your hair, stepping backward. Your eyes glanced around the room.

Wanda was watching the interaction, looking at you worriedly. Steve’s face showed nothing, but his eyebrows were furrowed in anger as he looked at Natasha. You didn’t look at Bucky, you still couldn’t. He sat in your peripheral, looking from you to Natasha guiltily.

“I don’t understand how I wasn’t enough for you.” You spoke, voice wavering as tears began to form in your eyes. “I don’t understand how you slept in the same bed as me, knowing you had broken us.”

Natasha didn’t say anything.

She slept in the same bed as you, made plans with you about your future, told you she loved you. All in the same day she had cheated on you. All in the same day she decided you weren’t enough for her.

“How, how did you even sleep at night?.” You spoke, stepping forward to look into her eyes.

“In the same bed, we talked about spending the rest of our lives together, you broke us.” 

Natasha opened her mouth to speak, a strangled sound coming out. Her eyes glanced down, staring at the floor instead of you. She had never seen you this hurt. Even after missions, when you were scared and crying after a nightmare.

She hurt you more than anyone before, even though you had given her what no one had.

“Y/n, please, it was a mistake,” Natasha begged you, pleading you with her eyes. You stepped away, betrayal shining in your face as you did so. Her eyes slipped to Bucky who looked almost as guilty as she did.

“Please just,” She reached forwards to take your hand, watching you pull away quickly. 

Her eyes shut tightly in a desperate effort to stop crying. It only irritated her eyes as more tears slipped away. She looked up at you again, staring at your blank face.

“Will, you ever forgive me?” She asked, watching your facade crash into anger.

Forgiveness. After everything, after throwing away everything, she dared to ask for your forgiveness. It was almost funny how naive this situation had made her. Anger shrouded you as you looked at her.

“You don’t deserve to be forgiven.” You stated harshly, clenching your jaw tightly.

The redhead winced at your word, a broken chuckle leaving her lips as she looked up at you. She remembered when you had told her otherwise. When you had told her she deserved to be forgiven for her mistakes. 

What she had ruined would come to haunt her.

“You convinced me I deserved to be forgiven, that I deserved love,” Natasha whispered, fondly remembering your promises to her.

You remembered your reassurances as clearly as she did, maybe even clearer. Her nightmares were always more shattering than the reality. But you were always there for her, convincing her that she deserved your love.

“And you had me convinced that you loved me.” You breathed, watching the fondness fade from her face into heartbreak.

You knew she still loved you. She had told you too many times, making it a tradition more than important words. The first time she said them, it was more difficult than you had thought. After, it was almost like the words were meaningless to her.

“I believed you, I used to think you loved me.” You spoke, heartbreak resonating in your tone as you turned away.

Everyone was still watching you intently. Your entire family was watching you, the rest of the team was in the living room now. Funny, the only time you thought they would be watching you and Natasha talk like this would be at your wedding, the day you promised each other your lives. 

Now, they were watching as you broke apart.

She opened her mouth to speak. You winced, waving her off.

“Don’t, don’t say anything.” You stuttered, stepping back slightly. You didn’t want to hear her speak, her lies, or her truth. Not that you could tell the difference anymore. She closed her mouth in surprise.

“I can’t tell the difference between your lies and your truth.” You said, licking your lips nervously.

To your surprise, she didn’t say anything. Maybe she had given up on trying to fix this. You had already given up.

Looking down, you decided to leave. If you stayed, all you would get was apologies from your family and Natasha. If you stayed, nothing could come out of it. Wanda was right to take a break after her breakup. She came back stronger after it.

Maybe you would come back stronger after. You didn’t know if you ever planned to come back.

“I’m leaving, away from this mess.” You told her, looking around the rest of the room.

They were shocked, but Wanda looked like she expected it. She gave you a small nod, leaving the room quickly. The rest of them looked up at you in shock, almost stepping up to argue with you when they caught sight of a tear making its way down your cheek.

They couldn’t stop you from leaving. Not even if they wanted to.

Your eyes fell to Bucky. He looked up at you apologetically as you finally looked him in the eye. Everything was gone from your eyes, the affection you used to greet him with. He was sure his mistake would haunt him for the rest of his life. 

This was one of his biggest regrets.

“Will I, will I ever see you again?” Natasha asked timidly, hope underlining her tone. She couldn’t stop you from leaving her with her mistakes. All she could do was hope for your return. Upon seeing your expression, that seemed unlikely.

“If the entire world turns upside down, you might.” You said a halfhearted joke as you turned towards the door.

Leaving your things behind, leaving your entire family behind. There wasn’t anything here for you anymore. Her mistake had taken that away too.

Maybe in a few years, you would come back, turn this into a story to tell your friends. Tell them the story about how Natasha Romanoff loved you. The story about how you used to love her.

World Turned Upside Down

A/N: I actually wove all of them together. And everyone who made it down to here, please tell me how it is, I put a lot of time and effort into it. Comment and reblog!!!

Tag List: @capcarolsdanver​​, @versdan​, @lesbian-girls-wayhaught​, @lovebotlarson​, @dhengkt​, @hstoria​, @natasha-danvers​, @veryfunnyal​, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​ , @ophelias-heart​  , @never-didbefore​ , @justarandomhumanhere​, @the-most-unicorn-of-them-all , @thatssocamryn​ , @lesbian-x-blackwidow​ , @marvelbbyx​ , @wlw-imaginesss​ , @hcartbyheart​​ , @summergeezburr​​ , @imnotasuperhero​  , @a-stressedstudent​ , @aaron-despair​ , @rooskaya-yelena​ , @dynnealberto , @thewitchandtheassassin​ , @wannabe-fic-reader​ , @izalesbean​, @higherfurther-romanova​  , @natalia-quinzel​    let me know if you’d like to be in any of my tag lists!

[lilxberry]

The Guilt Of A Lover - Natasha Romanoff

Synopsis;

You tend to be quite off-put by other women when you’re with the love of your life, even feeling guilty when there truly is no need to for you to feel so. Natasha herself tells you as such.

Warnings: Lil’ bit of language. Jealous Natasha. Oblivious and paranoid reader. Pretty much it tbh.

Words: 2,072

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

_______________

You sat there, admiring your red headed girlfriend as she took down yet another agent in training. You were always in awe of how he body moved when she was up against an opponent. Plus, you had a great view of her ass right now so were as happy as can be during your break from training. 

Natasha looked at you and sent a cheeky, subtle wink towards you. You grinned at her like a fool. She was in every way the perfect woman for you. She’s the woman 

Just as you stood up and took a final gulp of water from your bottle, ending your break, one of the trainees, a young blonde girl, steeping in front of you, blocking your path.

“Hey, I was wondering if you could train with me and help me out with my stance.” Josie-Jessie-Jade, you hadn’t really cared to remember her name, asked as she played with a strand of her hair, twirling it around her slender, manicured finger. A tell-tale sign of flirting which you hadn’t noticed.

But Natasha did.

The girl had been flirting with you non-stop during the training sessions you helped lead. She had always found an issue which you just so happened to be the only one who could fix it. ‘Not like there’s any other superiors she could ask.’ Natasha thought bitterly as she watched on from the corner of her eye.

“Uh-sure. Why don’t you get into position and I’ll see what needs you’re doing wrong.” You instructed the young girl who giggled as she turned to get back on to the matt.

Once there, she plants her feet atop the cool surface, raising her arms out in front of her and bending her knees ever so slightly, sticking her ass further out than nessicary. 

You sighed heavily through your nose as you witness her positioning. ‘How did this girl even get as far as she has with S.H.I.E.L.D..’ You leisurely walked towards her, noting what she should do to make improvements.

“For starters, your knees are bent too much, that can throw you off balance.” You tap her knees until you’re satisfied with the amount they’re straightened. You proceeded to move her feet so they face a more efficient direction. Lastly, you moved to behind her, ready to correct her flimsy, half-arsed positioning of her arms.

“Your arms should be more bent. Bring your elbows towards your body, this will help you protect yourself.” You gripped her elbows with a gentle but firm grip, pulling them back inwards towards her torso. 

As your arms reach around each side of her, she pushes herself back into you, her back being forced to come into contact with your chest. “Like this?” She feigns innocence as she asks in a sickly-sweet voice, puffing her chest out, making them fall into your line of sight. 

You clear your throat and quickly detach yourself from her, making sure you advert your gaze from her eyes as she turns around. “Yeah, just like that. Keep practicing.” With that, you walk out of the training room hastily, leaving Josie-Jess-Jade confused and frustrated.

Natasha notices your quick departure and frowns, concerned about the one she loves. 

She turns her gaze towards the younger girl, a burning anger in her eyes as she stares for a moment. Natasha swore she would find out what was wrong later. 

Oh boy, she sure did. 

_______________

Natasha had yet to see you all day after training had concluded. She could tell something had upset you and had a possible reason as to why you were so quick to exit the room.

Ever since you two had started dating, you had always been mindful and concerned of your girlfriend, putting her before yourself. She knew that you hated the idea of hurting her or betraying her and whenever you thought you had, you would be over cumbered with guilt and then profusely apologize after some time to scold and punish yourself with horrid thoughts.

For as long as Natasha had known you, you had never betrayed her once. The multiple occasions you’ve said you had done so was purely an overreaction on your part. 

--- flashback ---

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to look at her. You know I’d never look at anyone else in the way I look at you. I’m so, so sorry. Please forgive me.” You spoke as you buried your face into the crook of her neck, holding her tightly, afraid that if you loosened your vice like grip around her waist for a millisecond, she’d leave in an instant. You’re breathing was erratic, clearly panicking about whether she’ll leave you ‘cause of your ‘slip up’.

“Y/N, seriously, you’ve done nothing wrong.” Natasha soothed into your ear, stroking your hair gently. “Just because you happened to look up from your phone the same time as that girl bent down, it doesn’t mean you messed up. It’s not like you were actively looking at her tits baby.” She cooed, trying to add humour into the situation but you clearly felt just as guilty as you did before.

“Babe, the fact that you looked away instantly just shows you not only have respect for me and our relationship, but to other women as well is one of the reasons I love you but please stop feeling guilty for something that’s not worth it.” Natasha continued.

You planted a small kiss upon Natasha’s shoulder before fully raising your head to look down at your girlfriend. “I love you.” You spoke quietly, afraid what would happen if your voice raised even a decibel higher.

Natasha looked into your eyes, still seeing the guilt you hold behind them and sighed. “I love you too, Y/N. Now, how about we finally head down to the living room for movie night?” She smiled as a small smile had broken on to your face also.

“Sure.” You grabbed her hand, interlocking your fingers with her before leaving your shared bedroom and heading to the elevator, ready to wrap your arms around your girlfriend on the couch whilst you and the rest of the Avengers watch Short Circuit.

--- end of flashback ---

Natasha has always loved your honestly and dislike towards disloyalty within relationships but sometimes, she felt as though you sometimes overreacted when someone flirts with you. 

She hates how you beat yourself up when you feel guilty about something you couldn’t have done anything about in a situation you were thrown into unwillingly.

As she walked along the hallways of the compound, she noted Steve, Bucky, Sam and Clint further up in the direction she was headed towards talking. Once Natasha got closer to the quartet of men, she asked of your whereabouts. 

“Last I heard, she was down in the lab, sitting quietly with Bruce and Tony.” Clint had answered his friend. The other three men nodded in agreement.

Natasha smiled in thanks before making her way towards the main lab that usually occupies Tony, Bruce and yourself.

finally reaching the lab, she was about to open the door when she heard the voices of the three of you talking clearly.

“I still feel bad, man. Whether something was on accident or not shouldn’t be an excuse for that.” You said in a solemn, guilt-ridden tone. “What makes you think she’ll say yes to marrying me if I’m constantly looking at other people!”

Natasha’s breath hitches at the mention of marriage. You wanted to marry her. A huge grin made its way on to her face, cheeks nearly splitting at how far her lips had upturned. The rest of your conversation was all but muted to her as she thought of being your wife.

Before the three could continue with their conversation, Natasha had opened the door and alerted you and the science bros of her entrance. She smiled widely towards you whilst you looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an on-coming truck. She paced quickly towards you then surged forward to connect her lips to yours.

Your eyes had widen in shock before quickly closing as you melted into the kiss, responding to the affection with just as much emotion. You held on to her hips with a feather-like touch, as if afraid she’ll break whilst her arms snake their way around your neck, pulling you deeper into her kiss. 

Before either of your lungs could collapse in on their selves from lack of oxygen, you broke apart. She grinned up at you as you looked down at her with a dazed expression embedded into your features. You hadn’t even noticed the pair of scientists leave their lab to give you two some much needed alone time.

“So, you wanna marry me, huh?” Natasha whispered in a playful tone. The blissful and content expression was quickly wiped off of your face as she said that and was quickly replaced with a deep red blush and a look of embarrassment at the fact that you had been caught red handed.

“I-uh-I,yeah, I uh-I’ve been meaning to ask you for a month now but I guessed it was never the right time.” You chuckled and smiled sheepishly down at your girlfriend.

“Or is it because whenever you plan to ask, you “mess up” and have to apologize.” Natasha had added air quotes around mess up as she truly believed that you have never done so once. Obviously, you’d beg to differ.

You looked down guiltily, scared to look the red head in the eye. “I’m sorry. I know I messed up again. She asked for my help and then I just kinda saw them. I’m so sorry. I get if you want to bre-”

You were cut off by Natasha gently pressing her soft lips to yours, them moulding together perfectly. She pulled away just as quickly as she had initiated the kiss and leaned her forehead on yours. “Ask me.” She whispers, eyes searching your own for something neither of you knew truly what for.

“What?”

“Ask me. That is, if you still wan to marry me.”

Realisation quickly crossed your features. It was almost comical how your eyes had widened and your mouth drop open into an ‘O’ as you frantically search your pockets for the velvety box.

Soon enough, you found the cuboid container and grasped it into your hand as you retracted it from your pocket in a tight grip. You dropped down on to one knee and cleared your throat at least 20 times before you attempted to speak. 

“Natasha,” The clearing of your throat had apparently not mattered as your voice had still broken into a higher pitch when you spoke her name. Quickly clearing your throat of the dry lump, you attempted your proposal once again. “Natasha, will you marry me? I did have a whole speech about two papers long but I forgot it, sorry.” Your sheepish smile barely concealed your nervousness as you waited for an answer.

“Yes, Y/N, yes I will marry you.” Natasha spoke as she nodded vigorously. You were stunned for a moment before speedily recomposing yourself and pulled the ring from the box to place upon your now fiancé’s finger. 

After you slipped the simple yet elegantly beautiful ring upon her slender, pale finger, she tugged you up with a huge burst of strength before once again plummeting her lips on to yours, kissing you feverishly, conveying both of your love for each other.

The kiss was soon broke and both your eyes had opened to reveal each others beaming smiles towards their loved one. “I think we should tell the others.” Natasha suggested.

“We already know. congratulations. Now, don’t fuck in my lab.” Tony spoke, soon followed by a scalding from Bruce and congratulations from the rest of the Avengers.

“Maybe we should do Banner and Stark a favour and keep their lab sanitary.” You chucked as you spoke. “There are a million places more comfortable that a lab for those kind of activities.”

“Well then, lead the way.” Natasha spoke with a hint of playfulness.

You smirked and grabbed the back of her thighs, signifying her to jump, which she did so gracefully, wrapping her legs around your torso and your hands move to hold her up by her ass. “Yes ma’am.”

And with that, you left with your fiancé to consummate your engagement with the love of your life, leaving behind the guilt of a non-existent issue.

_______________

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Yo I am in love with every female marvel character I swear

My first Natasha fic which I really enjoyed writing

I hope you enjoy

And as always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

[wintervvidow]

apricity pt. three

apricity - the warmth of the sun in winter

warnings: angst, vomit mention, violence

pairing: bucky barnes x female oc

word count: 4,200

A/N: this is a bit of a filler chapter yet still very important! I did have to use google translate for the Russian, so if it is incorrect, please let me know and I'm very sorry if it is! Thank you 💕

MASTERLIST

“Я готов отвечить.” ( Ready to comply.)

The December air was cold as it blew through Florence’s hair, her arms circling Bucky’s waist as they rode down the dark road on Bucky’s motorcycle. The soldier steered with one arm, free hand coming down to rub circles on the redhead’s calf as they pulled behind a cluster of trees, hiding them from onlookers as they waited. The pair of assassins were unthawed and reset only hours ago, immediately given their latest mission.

A car came into view, red tail lights illuminating the air around them. Bucky flipped the bike’s headlight on and pulled onto the road again. The soldier revved the bike, catching up to the side of the vehicle as Florence sunk her butterfly knife into the tire, causing the car to swerve off the road and crash into a building.

Bucky parked the bike ahead of the crash, Florence stepping off the bike, Bucky behind her, and approaching the car. She flipped open the trunk to reveal a large silver briefcase, opening it to see five bags of blue liquid; exactly what they were looking for.

This was the last mission the Winter Soldier and the Winter Widow would ever go on.

Florence bolted up in the cheap hotel bed, Bucky’s screams reverbing in her brain. HYDRA always made her watch when Bucky was reprogrammed, a way to keep Florence in line and remind her who she was; just a puppet.

The last mission was always a common nightmare in the rotation of dreams Florence had, continuously taunting her. She disappeared only two weeks after it, abandoning everything she had grown accustomed to and the only person she had ever loved.

Florence couldn't go back to sleep, instead deciding on making herself coffee, the microwave clock mocking her, 4:34 a.m. She sipped her coffee slowly at the small kitchenette table, patiently waiting to start her day as she watched the clock tick away until it became 6:30 a.m., a reasonable enough hour to be awake for Steve to not worry.

~

The team was in Lagos, following a lead on Brock Rumlow, who had been causing quite the headache in the past few months, this time his target was deadly weapons from the Institute For Infectious Diseases.

Florence and Natasha sat across from each other listening to Steve and Wanda Maximoff converse about their surroundings through their earpieces, doing their best to remain anonymous and still get the intel under the hot noon sun.

“You see that Range Rover halfway up the block?” Steve asked Wanda as she fiddled with the sugar packet in her hand.

“Yeah, the red one? It’s cute.”

“It’s also bulletproof, which means private security, which means more guns...which means more headaches for somebody. Probably us.” Florence smirked at Natasha’s response as she took a sip of her coffee, savoring the caffeine.

Wanda chirped back through her radio, ‘You guys know I can move things with my mind, right?”

Florence glanced at Wanda across the cafe, “Looking over your shoulder needs to become second nature.”

Sam’s voice floated through their earpieces from the rooftop above, “Anybody ever told you two you’re a little paranoid?”

The two redheads shared a knowing look with small smirks adorning their faces, “Not to either of our faces. Why? Did you hear something?” Florence’s tone was light, but both she and Natasha knew the darkness behind it; the Red Room made them that way.

Steve, ever the serious man, refocused the small group, “Eyes on target, folks. This is the best lead we’ve had on Rumlow in six months. I don’t want to lose him.”

Sam scoffed in the mic, “If he sees us coming, that won’t be a problem. He kind of hates us.”

There was a pause in time before Steve spoke, “Sam, see that garbage truck? Tag it.” Sam deployed Redwing, giving Sam and the team the information they needed, “That truck’s loaded for max weight. And the driver’s armed.”

Natasha glanced at Florence, the pair not too thrilled to be dealing with this particular situation, “It’s a battering ram.”

“Go now.”

Wanda questioned Steve into her mic, the tension had just risen significantly.

“He’s not hitting the police.”

The team scattered, Steve, Wanda, and Sam going after Rumlow while Florence and Natasha were both on motorcycles racing down the street.

“Rumlow has a biological weapon.”

Natasha revved her bike, “I’m on it.” The redhead purposely crashed her bike, flinging it into an armed guard. Florence ditched her bike, joining Natasha in the fight.

A guard swung at Florence, missing his target as she ducked and swept his feet from underneath the attacker. Natasha took down two more guards while Florence took down three more, tossing the last guard on the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Florence and Natasha were attacked by Rumlow, neither of the two women able to effectively take him down. The two were shoved into a tank, Rumlow dropping a bomb in before latching the door closed. They surveyed their surroundings quickly; two guards with guns aiming at them. Florence kicked one unconscious while Natasha grabbed the other guard and used him as a human shield when the grenade exploded, grabbing Florence on the way down.

Black smoke filled the air, the smell of fire making it hard to breathe, sending the pair of assassins into a coughing fit on the ground. Looking up, they could see Steve being blown back into the building by an explosion, their ears ringing from the volume. Steve sent Sam after Rumlow, who was in an AFV heading north.

Natasha relocated the ditched bike and got on, pulling Florence behind her. The younger assassin revved the bike as they entered the street, Florence holding onto her.

Sam called out the offenders, clocking four of them splitting up.

Natasha stopped the bike and looked at Florence before splitting up, “I got the two on the left, you take the right.”

Florence sprinted down the busy street, dodging and weaving the crowd. Her targets came into view ahead of her, the girl sent a throwing star their way, effectively knocking him to the ground with no way to run. The girl grabbed the man, searching the bag furiously, trying to locate the weapon, “It’s not here!” Sam replied back, not having the weapon either.

Natasha called over the mic, “I have it.” Florence sighed in relief, moving to meet back up with the team.

She came upon Steve, who had Rumlow on the ground in front of him. She approached the scene cautiously, listening to the exchange.

“You know, he knew you and that redhead, Florence. Your pal, your buddy, your Bucky.” Rumlow whispered tauntingly at Steve.

Florence approached from behind, grabbing Rumlow’s hair and yanking him back, putting a knife to his throat, “What did you say?” The flip switched in Florence’s brain at the mention of Bucky, nothing else mattering anymore. She didn’t care that people were probably filming her with a knife to someone’s throat, and Steve made no move to stop her.

The disfigured man laughed as the knife dug deeper against his neck, staring up at Florence, “He remembered you. I was there. He got all weepy about it. Always screaming about you.” He then looked at Steve, “Till they put his brain back in a blender. He wanted you to know something. He said to me, ‘Please tell Rogers. When you gotta go, you gotta go.’ And you’re coming with me.” Rumlow’s thumb pressed a detonation device, Florence and Steve noticing it at the same time.

Wanda was behind them, containing the explosion of fire with her powers, keeping Steve and Florence from becoming red mist. The newest member sent Rumlow up and into the building in front of them. The building went up in flames, the leftover gasses from Rumlow’s bombs reacting to the fire and exploding. The bystanders screamed and ran as Wanda looked on in horror at what she had just done, hand clamping over her face.

Florence gently guided the girl away from the scene, “Hey, come one. We have to go, this isn’t on you, okay?”

Behind them, Steve called for Sam to request Fire & Rescue before he took off to go save people from the building, leaving Florence to console the distraught brunette.

A month later, the team was back at the Avengers Compound, Florence sitting with Steve as they watched the news.

“Eleven Wakandans were among those killed during a confrontation between the Avengers and a group of mercenaries in Lagos, Nigeria last month. The traditionally reclusive Wakandans were on an outreach mission in Lagos, when the attack occurred.”

The TV switched to show King T’Chacka of Wakanda’s speech:

“Our people’s blood is spilled on foreign soil, not only because of the actions of criminals, ut by the indifference of those pledged to stop them. Victory at the expense of the innocent is no victory at all.”

Steve turned the TV off, the only other sound in the compound coming from Wanda’s TV in her room. Florence got up to go speak to the girl before Steve stopped her, “I’ll go.” Steve and Wanda were taking the Lagos incident the hardest, both blaming themselves. The mention of Bucky had made both Florence and Steve freeze until it was too late, leaving Wanda to deal with the bomb that now plagues her consciousness. Florence watched as Steve walked off until he wasn’t visible anymore for her to turn on her heel to head to the kitchen.

The redhead was in dire need of coffee, the cup she had that morning had worn off. The nightmares amplified after Rumlow’s supposed confession about Bucky, the girl had hardly slept more than two hours a night. When she did sleep it was restless, nightmares of Bucky haunting every corner of her mind. She managed to make it through half her mug before she was called downstairs for a meeting with Tony and the Secretary of State.

Secretary Ross sighed heavily as he stood at the head of the table of Avengers as he mimicked his golf swing, “Five years ago, I had a heart attack and dropped right in the middle of my backswing. Turned out it was the best round of my life because after 13 hours of surgery and a triple bypass, I found something 40 years in the Army had never taught me. Perspective. The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives, but while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some who would prefer the word ‘vigilantes’.”

Next to Florence, Natasha spoke with a smirk adorning her face, “What word would you use, Mr. Secretary?”

Secretary Ross looked up from the table, “How about ‘dangerous’? What would you call a group of US-based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?”

Ross stepped aside from the table, allowing the full view to be on the screen in front of the table, showing various clips of incidents the Avengers were involved in. Everyone at the table grimaced at the screen, not proud of what it was showing. Ross flipped through events of New York, Washington D.C., Sokavia and Lagos before Steve had enough, noting Wanda’s demeanor change and telling Ross to turn it off.

“For the past four years, you’ve operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That’s an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution.” Ross paused, placing a large file on the table in front of Wanda who passed it on to Rhodey, “The Sokovia Accords. Approved by 117 countries, it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they’ll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel only when and if that panel deems it necessary.”

Steve spoke from the end of the table, “The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place. I feel we’ve done that.”

Ross looked down at Steve, “Tell me, Captain, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now? If I misplaced a couple of 30 megaton nukes, you can bet there’d be consequences. Compromise. Reassurance. That’s how the world works. Believe me, this is the middle ground.”

Rhodey gestured to the accords “So, there are contingencies.”

Ross shrugged, “Three days from now, the UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords. Talk it over.”

Ross began to leave until Natasha stopped him, “And if we come to a decision you don’t like?”

“Then you retire.” Ross left after that, leaving the team to discuss.

The team was arguing amongst themselves as Florence stared at the ceiling with her feet on the table, listening to various points being made while Rhodey and Sam debated behind Steve while Tony rolled his eyes.

“Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor, which is one more than you have.”

Sam crossed his arms over his chest, “So let’s say we agree to this thing. How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?”

“117 countries want to sign this. 117, Sam, and you’re just like, ‘No, that’s cool. We got it.’”

Sam cut Rhodey off, “How long are you going to play both sides?”

Vision interrupted from his spot on the couch next to Wanda, “I have an equation.”

Sam moved to stand behind Florence, his voice dripping in sarcasm, “Oh, this will clear it up.”

Vision continued, “In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. During the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate.”

“Are you saying it’s our fault?” Steve spoke with the Accords in hand.

“I’m saying there may be a causality. Our very strength invited challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict,” Vision paused, “breeds catastrophe. Oversight, oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand.”

Rhodey looked to Sam, “Boom.”

Natasha spoke from her spot at the table, “Tony, you are being uncharacteristically non-hyperverbal.” Tony rolled his eyes exaggeratedly.

“It’s because he’s already made up his mind.”

Tony grumbled at Steve’s statement, “Boy, you know me so well.” Tony rose from the couch, cradling his head as he walked over to the kitchen, “Actually, I’m nursing an electromagnetic headache. That’s what’s going on, Cap. It’s just pain. It’s discomfort.” Tony grabbed a coffee mug, looking into the sink, “Who’s putting coffee grounds in the disposal?”

Natasha looked at Florence with a knowing look about her coffee-sleep- problem while Tony continued complaining behind them, “Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?”

Tony placed his phone in the fruit basket, a small hologram emitting from it of a young man, “Oh, that’s Charles Spencer, by the way. He’s a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA, had a floor-level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk, See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn’t want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn’t go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where. Sokovia.” Tony paused, allowing the words to sink in painfully, “He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. We won’t know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass. There’s no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I’m game. If we can’t accept limitations, if we’re boundary-less, we’re no better than the bad guys.”

Steve began speaking, “Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don’t give up.”

“Who said we’re giving up?”

“We are if we’re not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blame.”

Rhodey speaks up, pointing at Steve, “I’m sorry, Steve. This is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations we’re talking about. It’s not the World Security Council, it’s not S.H.I.E.L.D., it’s not HYDRA.”

Florence practically flinched at Rhodey’s mention of HYDRA as Steve cut him off, “No, but it’s run by people with agendas, and agendas change.”

Tony walked towards the group, “That’s good. That’s why I’m here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing.”

Steve interrupted, “Tony, you chose to do that. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don’t think we should go? What if there’s somewhere we need to go and they don’t let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.” The team all shared looks, silently gauging their stances.

Tony looked down at Steve, “If we don’t do this now, it’s gonna be done to us later. That’s the fact. That won’t be pretty.”

Wanda, who had been silent the entire meeting, spoke from her seat next to Vision, “You’re saying they’ll come for me.”

Vision spoke beside her, “We would protect you.”

“Maybe Tony’s right,” All eyes darted to Natasha, “If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off-”

Sam cut her off, “Aren’t you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?”

“I’m just reading the terrain. We have made some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back.” Florence was slightly shocked at Natasha’s statement. She had assumed that she wouldn’t be signing, not wanting to walk back into a potential puppet situation.

Tony leaned against his chair, looking at Natasha baffled, “Focus up. I’m sorry. Did I just mishear you or did you agree with me?”

Natasha shook her head, “I want to take it back now.”

“No, no, no, you can’t retract it. Thank you. Unprecedented. Okay. Case closed. I win.”

Florence noticed Steve’s phone buzzing, watching his face fall as he read the notification, “I have to go.” The team watched as Steve bolted out of the room.

Days later, Florence was seated between Steve and Sam as they attended Peggy Carter’s funeral in London. The girl was never close to Peggy in the ’40s, she only spoke to her briefly, but Florence knew Steve would need support. The trio watched from the pew as Sharon Carter, Peggy’s niece and an ex S.H.I.E.L.D agent, spoke about her aunt. Sharon had grown to be a friend and an ally to the team, helping them out during the Battle of Triskelion.

The funeral ended quickly, Florence standing outside with Sam while Steve remained in the chapel. A familiar redhead passed by, Florence grabbing Natasha’s arm gently, “Nat? What are you doing here?”

“I came to see Steve, then I’m off to Vienna to sign the Accords.”

Florence furrowed her brows, “You’re signing it? Who else signed?”

Natasha shrugged, “Yeah, it’s what seems right. Tony, Rhodey and Vision have signed. Clint says he’s retired and Wanda is TBD. You?”

“I can’t.” Florence wanted to but was immensely torn. She didn’t see a way to function properly under the Accords, and her best bet was to not sign, much to Natasha’s dismay. Florence remained paranoid after the Red Room and HYDRA, even more so than the redhead in front of her. She wanted it to be easy, to sign the Accords without any second thoughts, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Natasha smiled softly at her friend, “I figured. But there’s room on the jet if you change your mind.”

“Thanks, Nat, but I’ll pass. Go see Steve.” The two girls hugged briefly, Natasha pulling away and entering the chapel.

Hours later, both Sam and Florence’s phone vibrated, alerting a notification, the pair taking out their devices and reading ‘UNITED NATIONS COMPLEX BOMBED’

The two looked up from their phones in fear, immediately on the hunt to find Steve.

They found him in the lobby of Sharon’s hotel, having walked her back after Natasha left hours ago. Sam stopped in front of him, “Steve, there’s something you need to see.”

The trio stood in front of the TV of their shared hotel room as the news anchor spoke, “A bomb hidden in news van ripped through the UN building in Vienna.”

Sharon paced behind them while she was on the phone.

“More than 70 people have been injured. At least 12 are dead, including Wakanda’s King T’Chaka. Officials have released a video of a suspect, who they have identified as James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier. The infamous HYDRA agent linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations.”

The screen played a clip of the alleged suspect, Bucky, and Florence felt like she was going to be sick. Her stomach dropped and she could feel Sam’s gaze on her. It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t be him.

Sharon interrupted Steve and Florence’s internal spiral, “I have to go to work.”

Florence remained in front of the TV, trying to talk herself out of believing that Bucky would do this. He would have been acting alone. He wouldn’t have done this, this wasn’t the man she knew. She knew he was out of HYDRA’s clutches and was on his own, it couldn’t be him.

Steve grabbed her wrist gently, turning her away from the TV, “We have to go to Vienna, come on.”

Florence and Steve made it to Vienna along with Sam, both leaning against a tree with hats and sunglasses in an attempt to remain unknown. Steve pulled out his phone, dialing Natasha’s number. Florence ignored their conversation as she stared emotionless at the ground. The air was still heavy with smoke from the bombing as Steve spotted Natasha a few yards away, her ignorant to the fact that Steve and Florence were here.

After Steve hung up, Florence’s phone began to ring, Natasha’s contact lighting up the screen. She shared a look with Steve before answering, “Hey.”

Natasha wasted no time getting to the point, “Look, I know how much Barnes means to you, trust me I get it, but don’t do anything stupid. You need to stay home and regroup.”

Florence sighed into the phone, “Nat, you know I can’t do that.” Florence ended the call before Natasha could respond, quickly pocketing the phone in her black jacket and walking away.

Florence and Steve entered a restaurant, quickly spotting Sam at the bar.

Sam placed his food down, “She tell you to stay out of it?” Steve and Florence’s silence was answer enough for Sam, “Might have a point.”

Steve pursed his lips, “He’d do it for me.”

“1945, maybe.” Florence glared at Sam through her glasses as he continued speaking, “I just want to make sure we consider all our options. The people that shoot at you two usually end up shooting at me.”

Sam didn’t know him. Steve didn’t know the ‘new’ him. Out of the two, she had known Bucky the longest, loving him through the good and the bad. Even when he was the darkest parts of the Winter Soldier, Florence still held love for him in her heart because she knew what HYDRA made him into. And when Florence’s reflection was unfamiliar to herself, whether she was covered in someone else’s blood or she had been reprogrammed, Bucky kept her from falling apart in the Red Room. It couldn’t be him.

Sharon made her way up the bar, standing next to Steve as she updated the group, “Tips have been pouring in since that footage went public. Everybody thinks the Winter Soldier goes to their gym. Most of its noise.” Sharon slid a file over to Steve, “Except for this. My boss expects a briefing, pretty much now, so that’s all the head start you’re gonna get.”

Florence thanked Sharon as she left to leave, “You’re all gonna have to hurry. We have orders to shoot on sight.” Again, the feeling of bile worked its way up Florence’s throat, forcing herself to choke it down. Her hands shook at her sides as she took in Sharon’s words. She wouldn’t let that happen, even if it ended up killing her. She was going to save him.

Steve read over the file quickly, Sam and Florence looking at him expectantly, ”He’s in Romania.”

The location shouldn’t have shocked Florence as much as it did. A lot happened in Romania between herself and Bucky, she shouldn’t be surprised he went there. He probably didn’t even realize why he went to Bucharest, the action must have felt familiar. She should have began their search there two years ago, Florence was angry with herself for missing such an important place to them both. And God, did Romania have painful roots in the soldiers’ and widows’ lives.

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Gin and Paleta

Pairing: Javier Pena x Reader

Summary: When a storm knocks out the power, you ask Javier to spend the night with you to ease your fear of the dark. A few drinks later, you admit more than you ever meant to. 

Warnings: Drunk and emotional reader, a wee bit of angst at one part, anxiety because of the dark, Javier teasing you, mentions of prostitution

Word Count: 5400

A/N: This is my first time writing for Javier and I’m a little nervous about it. Hopefully it’s alright!

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The wind outside howled with an intensity that you hadn’t experienced in a long time. You clutched your hot tea to your chest, allowing it to warm you in the nice cool Bogota night as you watched the rain fall hard and heavy outside your window. Every now and again there was a flash of lightning that crackled across the sky that was followed by a loud rumble. The storm was right over you and the lightning had gotten closer and closer to the apartments the embassy had put you up in when you moved to Columbia. 

It really was quite beautiful, this storm that raged across the city. It had been hot and muggy for days leading up to the storm but now the angry gray clouds that blocked out the stars and the pounding rain brought a blanket of coolness to offer refuge from the constant Columbian summer heat. Your favorite scented candle burned on the table, the smell mixing perfectly with the scent of wet earth, asphalt, and trees overtaking your apartment through the small crack in the window you’d left for exactly that purpose. The TV played mindlessly in the background to create further ambience.

Suddenly, there was a loud flash just outside your apartments that lit up the entire street, sparks flying everywhere out your window. You yelped in shock as the power surged and then cut out completely, leaving you in total darkness aside from the flame of your candle. At the same time, there was a deafening rumble and the whole apartment shook with thunder. 

Your heart raced and you panted as you walked towards the window to see that the power was across the next few blocks. There was a downed wire in the next street down that still sparked occasionally in the rain. Car alarms went off in the street. Lightning must have struck the wires. 

Then the darkness crept in. When you turned to face your apartment, the utter darkness and silence of every corner began to feel suffocating. You reached over to the table and held the candle up as your breathing struggled to stay level. On shaky legs, you made your way over to a set of drawers that held various boxes of matches and a few old lighters before searching the house for every candle and flashlight you could find. After about ten minutes, you had set up candles all across the main room of your apartment but it still wasn’t much light. Small halos of warm yellow light illuminated only a few feet in diameter around each small flame. 

For the final, and perhaps most paranoid move of all, you reached to grab your gun but stopped, fingers flexing and clenching into your palm as you tried to calm yourself down. “It’s just the dark,” you told yourself, breathing deeply, “Just the same things that are here in the day time. Stop being ridiculous.”

It was irrational to have your gun on you. What was gonna happen? The boogeyman was going to jump out of your closet and eat you? Maybe Escobar’s men would come and pick you, Steve, and Javier off now that it was dark. They did know where you all lived and they had already shown they had no problem flexing that fact when they killed Steve’s cat. That also was irrational and you knew it. They had better things to do and plot a whole assassination on three Americans during a power outage when God knows they had many other more menacing enemies. 

And even so, every little creak from the storm that had previously been endearing now became footsteps of intruders or monsters. Here you were, someone literally trained to take down drug lords, who had been in their fair share of gun fights and seen first hand the horrors that men can do to one another, cowered in the couch trying to stave off a full blown panic attack as you sat alone in the dark.

Maybe you could hang out with Steve and Connie for the night, at least until the power returned, you considered. No… they had Olivia now and you were sure they had their hands full without worrying about a whole grown ass woman who was just scared of the dark. You weren’t close with anyone else in the building except for Javier but that idea made you cringe. He would just make fun of you and you knew it. You already knew how dumb it sounded to be an adult who was scared of the dark. You really needed to just grow up and get over it. That was exactly what you’d resolved to do. 

Twenty minutes passed before you gave in. Twenty minutes full of startled gasps when the wind blew some leaves off the tree and into your window, the car alarms were silenced, or the wood floors creaked beneath your feet. Against your initial judgement, you pressed yourself off the couch, scooped up the candle that you’d had placed on the table and made your way downstairs to Javier’s apartment. 

You rubbed your arm nervously while you waited for him to answer the knocks, already foretelling all the shit he was about to give you. He opened the door and you noticed the single flashlight in his hand that seemed to be the only light in his entire abode. “Y/N, you alright?” He asked, noticing right away the way you kept peeking over your shoulder with an anxiety that radiated off of you. 

You nodded, “Uh, yeah. Your power’s out too?” The question was stupid and obvious and you both knew that. No shit the power was out. There wasn’t a single light on in the entire building. 

“Yeah.” He answered simply but there was little intonation in his voice that was certainly mocking you in his typical lowkey asshole way. He leaned against the doorway coolly and if you hadn’t been freaking out so badly, you would have stopped to admire. Maybe it was best that everything but his general outline was concealed in darkness. You’d been pushing down a crush on your friend and partner for months now, knowing it was unprofessional and knowing that he would probably never think of you the same way even if it wasn’t unprofessional. Coming to him like this made you feel like a damsel in distress and you weren’t sure if you liked that analogy, especially considering that you were convinced nothing would ever come of it. 

You rocked back and forth on your heels, “I was wondering if, um, maybe you’d be willing to hang out with me until the power comes back on?” 

A small smirk appeared on his face with a quirked eyebrow, “Are you scared of the dark, L/N?” He asked, using your last name as if to exaggerate the humor in the fact that a DEA agent who’s been shot at before is scared of something as little as the dark, “How old are you? Eight?” 

You rolled your eyes, cheeks burning red but playing it off with a chuckle. “Shut up,” you whined, “Look, I know it sounds stupid but I can offer beer or gin and a few paleta that I need to eat before they melt now.” 

Javier looked you up and down in the low glow of the candle that was held between your hands, almost as if you were using it to keep your hands warm. He couldn’t help the little endearing smile that crept on his lips. In all honesty, he didn’t care much that you were afraid of the dark. He just loved to see the way you got flustered when he made fun of you. His jokes were never meant maliciously, especially when directed towards you, and he was glad you could take the jabs and even throw them back. It was one of the things that made him crazy about you. 

After a moment, he nodded, “Yeah, I can come hang out for a few. Just let me grab my keys.” He disappeared back into his apartment, flashlight illuminating his couch and table as he grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter. Soon, he was following you down the hall and up the stairs to your apartment.

You hadn’t even locked the door in your hurried state to get down to Javier but you knew it wasn’t going to be a long trip. He noticed the various candles burning around your apartment, lowly illuminating the small space. 

“Beer or gin? I got water too if you want that though.” You offered, making your way to the kitchen to hold up your end of the bargain. 

“Uh, gin, please.” He walked in and made himself at home like he practically lived there. He had come over often to go over files sometimes over drinks and food late into the night. He was comfortable in your space and you were in his, with the exception of that hyperawareness of your every move when you’re around the person you like. There was a slightly electric feeling in the air for both of you but neither of you knew that the other felt it too. 

You brought two glasses of gin, probably a little fuller than they should have been, in and handed one to Javier and one for yourself. The pair of you sat on your tan sofa and you quickly inspected the packaged popsicles in your hand, “I have cajeta and chamoy.” 

“Don’t really care.” He shrugged, “sipping” his gin. You looked between the two and picked your favorite, giving him the other one. 

Two hours later, the pair of you were two paleta and three-quarters of a bottle of gin down (most of which you had drunk) and things had gotten personal. Topics had bounced from work stuff, to you teasing him about his well-known rendezvous with his informants, to childhood pets, and more. A silence had settled over the pair of you. Neither of you knew how late it was anymore, just that it was silent out save for the rain and the occasional gunshot. It had become evident early on that Javier held his alcohol better than you did but even he was slipping after this many glasses of hard liquor. 

“Do you ever get tired of being alone?” You asked out of the blue, staring up at the ceiling. 

Javier looked over at you, the way you tapped your nail against the side of the glass with too much focus. He couldn’t tell if you were trying to avoid his gaze after the question or if you really were just that interested in the sound it made in your drunken state. Your partner just shrugged though and deflected the question, “Get a dog or something.” 

Your face twisted in an over exaggerated look of thought. “I thought about it but it makes me sad to-,” you hiccuped, “to think about a puppy being stuck inside all day while we’re out chasing Escobar. No yard or anything for them to run around in.” 

Javier nodded in understanding, “Guess you’re right. Wouldn’t be a good life at all.” 

“See, though, Javi,” You pointed sloppily at him with a lifted finger from your fifth - no sixth - glass of gin, “You and I both know that’s not what I’m asking. But who am I kidding? You’ve always got all those little informants of yours hanging around. You’re probably not too lonely.” 

Your partner sighed, used to Steve giving him crap about it but you didn’t usually say much about it. “Yeah, well we all have ways of dealing with the loneliness.” Seeing the prostitutes in town wasn’t his proudest repeat offense and, if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t just see them for the information they had on Escobar. Even for people who had commitment issues, like himself, being alone got really damn hard sometimes. 

“It’s so unfair that they don’t have male prostitutes like they have women. What about all the lonely and frustrated women of Bogota?” You complained, taking a sip to punctuate your sentence. 

Javier couldn’t help but laugh a little, “You’re telling me you’d really go see a prostitute if there were men out there that did it?” Yeah, right, he thought. 

You shook your head and sighed in defeat, “No… I don’t think I would. I think I actually want someone to love, y’know?” You laughed at your own clicheness, “What about you, Javi? I know you have all your lady friends but have you ever loved someone?” 

If perhaps you’d been sober, maybe you would have noticed the way he sucked a guilty breath in and backstepped, maybe even might have apologized for prying into his personal life. In your drunk state, though, you had no qualms with your personal questions. 

“I, uh, I did. Once.” 

“Yeah? What happened?” 

He scratched his nose and hesitated. Another one of his less proud moments that he didn’t like to share. The only person he’d told that wasn’t family or a friend from back in Texas was Steve. Nevertheless, he swallowed hard and continued, the drinks even making him loose at this point, “We were supposed to get married but…”

“But?” You pressed, the intoxication making you obnoxiously impatient. 

He gave you a vaguely testing look before continuing, “But I never made it to the wedding.” 

You gasped, leaning forward and setting your drink on the table, “You left her at the altar?!” 

Javier flinched back at your sudden lurch towards him and looked at you with a slightly annoyed expression, “I know it was a shitty thing to do!” While he didn’t appreciate the judgement because he already felt shitty enough about the whole incident, he knew it was more the gin than you to blame for your outburst. He leaned forward and pulled your half-full glass of gin back towards him, not to drink for himself, just to get out of your grasp. “What about you? You ever been in love?” 

You bit your lip, “I don’t know. I’ve never really been in love before but there’s this one guy that I know that I think I could be pretty close to it.” 

Javier’s chest tightened at the thought of you loving another man. He knew he had no right to your heart but that didn’t stop the pang of jealousy at the thought. Part of him wanted to pry further, just so he could know you were safe (or maybe to fuel some twisted personal hatred for the man he didn’t know). In typical angsty Javier fashion, though, he opted for the aloof, detached, and slightly annoyed response, “Then why are you complaining about being so lonely? Sounds like you have someone.” 

You pulled your knees into your chest and threw the blanket that was draped over the couch over your now balled up form. You shrugged, glancing up at Javier with a look he might have noticed was longing if he hadn’t been looking anywhere but at you. “I don’t think he likes me the way I like him. I think maybe that’s why it feels so lonely. Knowing you could have someone but still being alone.” 

“If you could have him then get him.” Javier Pena, always the blunt one, especially when his own feelings were in the mix. 

You shook your head, “It’s not that simple.” 

Suddenly, Javier got a little nervous at your tone, “He better not be one of Escobar’s fucking men.” The thought of you loving someone else made him jealous and angry but the thought of you loving a sicario made him lividly angry. There was no way you could possibly love a monster like that but it didn’t stop the thought from crossing his mind. 

Your mouth dropped in offense, “Fuck, Javi, is that how low you think of me?” Your moods had been swinging all night thanks to the gin but you were pretty sure you still would have found the very suggestion just as offensive if you’d been sober. 

“What- wait - no. That’s not what I think of you, I ju-” 

“Well, clearly it is or you wouldn’t have suggested it.” You stood up off the couch, stepping away angrily but tripping over the low coffee table in the dark. Your slowed reflexes weren’t enough to catch you and crashed to the floor, “Shit…” You groaned, rolling over and trying to push yourself up to a sitting position. Your hair hung messily over your face when you looked down at where your hand met the floor. 

Javier jumped up and clumsily made his way to your side, “Shit, Y/N, you alright?” He knelt down and placed a hand on your arm, offering his other one to help you stand. Sparks flew where his skin met yours but you convinced yourself that you were just feeling because of the alcohol. 

You waved him off drunkenly and swiped your hair clumsily out of your face. Instead of sitting up, you leaned back and looked up at him, tears welling up in your eyes for who the hell knows why. Were you angry or offended or desperate or just a drunk mess? You couldn’t tell anymore but you weren’t used to losing your emotions like this and Javier wasn’t used to seeing it either. He halted, uncomfortable at the way your eyes shone in the candlelight with your tears. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have even suggested that you’d be in love with a sicario. I really don’t think you’d do anything like that.” Javier apologized, a rare occurrence for the man but, gosh, would he say anything if it meant that your tears would dry. Drunk or not, he couldn’t stand knowing that made you cry. 

You sniffled, wiping a crocodile tear from your cheek, “Why the hell do we even sit here and make ourselves sad, Javi? Y’know? I mean I sit here every night and pine over a guy who I’ve convinced myself won’t love me. Isn’t that stupid? I convinced myself! How the hell would I even know? So instead of womaning up and actually finding out the truth, I just resign to the thought that there’s no way he could love me. Isn’t that pathetic? I should just learn to be like you. Confident. Women don’t say no to you because… well how could they?” 

Javier shook his head and looked down, “No,” He admitted quietly, “It’s not pathetic. It’s different when you’re talking about love versus lust. I pay for twenty minutes with a poor girl who has to do it to survive. If anything, that’s what’s pathetic. Honestly, I’m scared shitless when it comes to love.” 

He thought about your words and how much sense they actually made. The reason he hadn’t told you about his feelings for you were partly because he thought you’d never feel the same way. He was convinced that his reputation as a womanizer asshole, that he had rightly earned prior to you moving to Bogota, had turned you off entirely. Besides, wouldn’t he just mess it up? He thought he loved Lorraine but look how that turned out. The logical reason he told himself was the relationships amongst partners would be frowned upon but he knew that was a lie. Since when did Javier Pena follow the rules? The only thing holding him back really truly was himself. So why did it feel so impossible to come clean? 

Javier shook the thought from his head. You were drunk and rambling. Even if he were to man up and confess his love for you, this was not the time to do it. He’d be surprised if you remembered anything in the morning. Besides, you were on about some man you loved and he could only imagine who it was. He’d seen your gaze linger a little longer on Carillo than was usual for a colleague. Perhaps that was who it was, the mystery man that you couldn’t have. He was married, after all. It would be a logical road block. 

Part of Javier wanted to probe your brain and know the truth. He couldn’t tell if it was something that would make himself feel better or worse. It would put him out of his misery. Maybe if he heard it straight from your mouth that you didn’t love him, he could finally get over you. It would take a while, certainly many drunken nights and a few visits to Freckles, but he could do it. But if he did know, he also knew himself well enough to know he’d harbor some silent resentment for whoever the man was for taking the girl he loved. 

He shook his head at his thoughts when he saw the way you swayed a little, as if rocking on a boat despite being on solid ground, your eyes drifting shut while you struggled to stay sitting upright. You weren’t in your right state of mind and to ask you such a personal question would be a total breach of trust and respect. He’d be furious if he found out anybody else had done the same to you. 

“C’mon, let’s get you in bed.” Javier swallowed hard before shifting to help pull you up by your arm. 

Your body flopped loosely to your feet and you whined, “Noooo! We were just talking! Besides, you’re just gonna leave me in the dark and go back home.” You pouted, head lulling against his as the full blown weight of the alcohol hit you. Any composure you’d managed to maintain, which admittedly was very little, melted away into Javier’s chest as he hoisted you up and carried you bridal style to your bedroom. 

He glanced down at your made up bed and laid down your body as gently as he could, though you did roll on your own accord more clumsily than he had hoped. Javier flinched when your hands shot up to grab his shoulders, “Javi! Don’t leave me! It’s dark and scary still.” 

He sighed, his hands settling on his hips once he managed to pry your hands off his shoulders, “Just let me grab you some water and you’ll be fine.” 

“What if I wake up in the middle of the night and it’s still completely dark!” 

“I have a feeling you won’t be waking up for a while, hermosa.” He chuckled at the way your face was already half smashed into the pillow, your hair was laying over your cheek, and your eyes were closed shut, surely already halfway asleep. 

You reached up blindly for whatever you could grab, your fingers sliding down his forearm before they managed to hook onto a few of his fingers, “Please, Javi. I gave you popsicles and alcohol! The least you could do is stay the night and keep me company.” 

  Javier reached down and pulled the blanket that was folded at the end of your bed over your body. “I’ll be right back.” With that he left your room, feeling his way to the kitchen to get you a glass of ice water before returning to find you curled up in the blanket with your eyes closed. A small smile grew on his face, astounded by how you could still be so beautiful even when you looked like such a mess. A few strands of hair had fallen over your face and Javier reached down to gently brush them away from your mouth and behind your ear. 

You shifted a little, “You can sleep here.” Your hand stretched out to feel the other half of your queen sized bed. 

Finally, Javier decided to give in. “No, I’ll just make up a bed on the couch.” 

“There’s plenty o’ bed to share!” You giggled, thinking what you said was way funnier than it really was. 

Javier shook his head, “You're drunk, Y/N. I don’t want you waking up in the morning to see me in your bed and you go getting the wrong idea.” 

“You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to wake up to see you in my bed.” You snuggled further into the pillow, your words barely above a murmur. 

“What?” Javier’s whole body seized up and he couldn’t look anywhere but you. He shook the thought away. There was no way you meant that. It was the gin and nothing more. He couldn’t get his hopes up, “Nevermind. You just close your eyes. I’ll be on the couch if you need anything.” 

You shook your head, “This is why I’m in love with you, Javi. Always the perfect gentleman, even when you’re an asshole sometimes.” 

Javier’s breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t deny your words this time. This was different. There was a difference between this is why I love you and this is why I’m in love with you. “In love? With me?” He told himself he wouldn’t pry earlier but the question came out before he could stop it. 

“Oh yeah... I’ve had a big ol’ crush on you for a long time. I don’t know what the hell love is but I think I might have it for you.” The wall that kept back your deepest thoughts came crashing down and your sentiments came flooding out like a semi-coherent tidal wave of admittal. “This is why I didn’t want to say anything because I know you don’t like me like that. You got all these beautiful women at your beck and call and I’m just boring old me who’s scared of the dark, spends more time working than living, and couldn’t dream of looking as beautiful as those ladies do.” 

Javier struggled to figure out what to say that wouldn’t be crossing the line, “There’s nothing boring about you, hermosa, and you are so much more beautiful than any other woman out there.” 

“But you don’t love me.” You insisted, cutting him off. 

He chewed the inside of his cheek. This had to be the worst time to be talking about this. If he said he did now, you probably wouldn’t remember it in the morning. Maybe you’d even write off your feelings as just drunken blubbering and he’d have to play along as if nothing had been meant. If he didn’t say it now, would it lock it in your mind that he couldn’t love you? “That’s not true.” He mumbled the words quietly but sincerely. He looked down at your form that was halfway asleep by now and pat your shoulder comfortingly, “Go to sleep. We can finish talking about this when you’re sober.” 

By the time the words left his mouth, you were already snoring. With a heavy breath, he looked away from you and walked back into the living room. He kicked his shoes off by the table and laid down on the couch, getting comfortable beneath the blanket that you’d left there earlier. Your conversations ran through his head about a mile and minute and he couldn’t slow them down. You actually loved him- nay, were in love with him. His feelings weren’t one sided. He tossed and turned for a while, battling with himself on how to address this (or even if he wanted to). He wasn’t so drunk that he had no control over what he said but he was just drunk enough to fuel a confidence that made him devise a plan to admit his feelings for you in the morning, even if sober him would most likely back out. 

**

When morning rolled around, neither of you were in the mood for admitting feelings. It took several cups of stove brewed coffee before either you were even able to form any more than a groan. The sunlight killed your eyes, even through the grey clouds. Your head pounded and you felt nauseous for the first half of the day. Javier was just slow and a little grumpier than usual. The two of you ate some tortillas that you’d thrown on the stovetop for breakfast in relative silence. 

The power was still out, the constant drizzle outside making it too dangerous for the power lines to be worked on. Thankfully, the sun cast enough light for you to not be freaking out anymore. Around eleven in the morning, you were finally feeling a little better and you looked up at Javier, who still had yet to leave your apartment. “Thanks for staying last night. Sorry for getting wasted.” You laughed a little at your expense. 

He sipped his coffee and rubbed his eyes, “Of course. You’re a mess when you drink, you know that?” 

You buried your face in your hands, feeling your matted hair. Gosh, you needed a shower. “Yeah, I’ve been told that before. That’s why I don’t get that drunk very often.” You sipped your own coffee, reveling in the scent that a few hours ago made you feel sick to your stomach but now smelled like the best thing on this planet. “You can take a shower if you’d like.” 

Javier gestured towards the front door, “I’ll just take one when I get back to my place.” 

“Oh right, you live here,” You groaned and chuckled at your stupidity, “Sorry, my brain is still moving kinda slow.” 

He smiled down at his coffee, fingers playing with the handle of the orange mug. “I, uh, I wanted to ask you about something, actually.” He began, his confidence from the prior night failing him. Javier could be suave as hell when he was trying to pick someone up at a bar but with you, all he could get was radio static in his brain. 

Your face twisted nervously, “Oh gosh, did I say something totally stupid last night?” You were already mentally facepalming. There were about a million things that ran through your mind daily, even sober, that you would be humiliated if drunk you had let slip. Things that ranged from a stupid dream you’d had about strapping bombs to pigeons and flying them into Escobar’s fincas to your unrequited harbored love for Javier ran through your head and you desperately hoped you had dumbly mentioned the former of the two topics. You could handle being teased about pigeon bombs. You didn’t want to lose Javier forever because you had your crush on him slip. 

One of Javier’s hands moved to his thigh and ran up and down the rough fabric of his jeans. “No, it wasn’t stupid at all, actually.” His pause made you nervous, expecting only the worst. “You said that you were in love with me.” 

Oh gosh. This was it. The moment you feared most. 

“I did?” You asked like a deer caught in headlights. You could feel your face visibly pale as you stared at Javier with wide eyes. His eyes flicked from yours down to his coffee and you panicked, “I’m sorry. I didn’t-” 

“I love you too.” He interrupted quickly and bluntly, knowing that if he waited any longer either you’d say it wasn’t true or he’d back out and either way it resulted in him never getting the words out. This was his shot at happiness and he was going to take it. 

Your mouth moved with failed words before finally sputtering out, “I’m sorry, what?” 

“I love you, Y/N. And I’m sorry if you didn’t mean it and I just ruined everything but you said last night that we sit around and make ourselves miserable by convincing ourselves that it could never happen and I just- I just figured I’d try to find a way out of the misery.” Javier wasn’t one for grand gestures or sappy heartfelt speeches but the confidence he’d had last night had returned to him for only a second to give you the closest he’d ever gotten to either. 

His words seemed to snap you right out of your foggy hangover haze and you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off him and the way his brown eyes seemed to bore into yours with a depth that made you almost scared to look away. “I-I love you too, Javi.” 

His eyes lightened up and his mustaches quirked upwards with his lips in a cautious smile, “Really?” 

You nodded, your voice breathy when you whispered out, “Yeah. I just- I never thought you could love me.” 

“Hermosa, I don’t know how anyone couldn’t.” 

[sunmoonandeddie]

and grace, my fears relieved

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2,623

summary: You meet someone new in the most unlikely of ways during the quarantine in New York City.  A hospital isn’t the worst place to meet someone, right?

chapter warnings: swearing, both steve and the reader have covid-19, but neither die

masterlist

a/n: Let me know what you think!

The virus started out inconspicuously enough, with just a few cases here and there that everyone assumed would be quarantined and taken care of, but Steve was paranoid.  How could he not be?

He’d been a sick kid.  Real sick.  And then when he was a teenager, he got some revolutionary kind of treatment for his heart and lungs and it was like his entire body had been kickstarted.  He shot up a foot taller and gained over a hundred pounds.

He had the stretch marks to prove it.

Granted, he had to work a little to gain as much as he did.  After the treatment, the weight gaining workouts and diet plans suddenly worked.  He looked… normal.  And then he buffed up.  Real big.

It came in handy pretty often with his job.  He had become a firefighter, and carrying people out of burning buildings was often part of the job.

Fires still happened in a quarantine.  If anything, they happened more frequently because people were home and the number one cause of house fires was unattended cooking.  A parent could be cooking any meal of the day and then their kid distracts them and boom.  Fire.

So he worked overtime, day in and day out.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t scared.  He was scared shitless.

It was like his ma used to say, back when she was alive, “Just because you’re scared doesn’t mean you run away.  You fight back for what’s right.”

Sarah Rogers had been a lot smarter than people assumed.  She was a former socialite, and an Irish Catholic one at that.  Her parents had an absolute conniption when she’d fallen in love with a former convict.  His dad had been in and out of jail for petty things.

It certainly hadn’t been her choice to fall in love with him.  But she had told him that if he didn’t get his act together, she wasn’t going to be with him.

He’d straightened himself up and become an outstanding citizen.

But that hadn’t stopped her family from disowning her.  Once she refused to break up with him, she was out.  Out of their house, out of their wills, everything.

She went from wearing Valentino and Chanel to items picked out at Goodwill.

But Steve’s parents had loved him more than anything.

He’d become a firefighter just like his dad.  He wanted to help people just like him, and well… That’s what he was doing now.

Or had been, until his throat had started to hurt.  And when it hadn’t let up three days later, even after a plethora of cough drops and teas, he went to the hospital.

It had only been about a month since it really started and the first dozen cases showed up in New York City.  He’d been cautious—overly cautious, some might say—but he still had to go to work.  And who knows how many people he’d come into contact with that had the virus?

It was still early days.  He was able to get the test, and for that, he was lucky.

But then he had to go home and wait.

And then he got the call.  He had to immediately go back to the hospital to be quarantined.  He’d been put in a hospital room that was usually used as a private room in the Emergency Room—a trauma room, they called it.  Trauma Room 2.

All of their other hospital rooms were taken.  It was a lot worse than anyone had let on.

He was there for about twenty minutes before you got there, clearly terrified and holding a duffel bag full of clothes so you wouldn’t just have to wear the scratchy ass hospital gowns.

He’d only thought to bring two different pairs of sweatpants and a few sweatshirts, as well as his usual pairs of jeans.

But he was quickly finding that those weren’t too comfortable to wear while being quarantined.

Maybe he’d be able to convince someone to run down to the hospital gift shop to grab him something to wear.  Some Brooklyn Hospital sweats or something.

“Hey.”

He looked up from his tablet, looking for the source of the voice.  God, he was so tired.  And everything hurt.  There was only so much that honey could do for his voice.

“Hey!  Over here!”  The voice broke off into a coughing fit, and it sounded nasty.  Real nasty.  The kind of coughing that hacks up a lung.

He gets up out of his bed with a grunt, feeling like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.  And not the big, strong shoulders he had no.  The weak little skinny ones he had before.  The ones where he could barely lift a gallon of milk in each hand without getting overworked.

You’re sitting on the ground, taking deep breaths as you try to catch your breath.  “Hey,” you said with a weak smile.  “You got any cough drops?  I ran out and my nurse said she was gonna try to find me more two hours ago.”

There’s no medicine available to treat the virus.  So they just treat the symptoms.

And there’s a severe shortage of cough medicine amongst the patients, but no one really mentioned that.

“Yeah,” he said as he walked over to his little bedside table.  He opened the drawer, pushing the Bible left inside to the side and grabbing the cough drops.  He grabbed four little individually wrapped pieces before dragging his feet back to the doorway.

He couldn’t lie, sitting down looked really nice right at that moment.  His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest just from walking that short distance.  So he sunk to his knees and leaned back against the doorframe, on the opposite side that you were.

Even though he’d become a firefighter like his dad, he didn’t understand how he could have such a strong faith in God when things like this happened.  Sitting across from you, seeing how tired and run down you looked, he wasn’t sure he believed at all.  How could a God that claimed to be so benevolent and loving do this?  Or at least not step in and do something to stop it?

“Did you bring the goods?” You asked with a bit of a laugh, before breaking off into a deep cough.  “Fuck…”

“Me, too,” he said softly as he grabbed one of the cough drops and tossed it in your direction.

You groaned as it landed behind you, shooting him a glare.  “Do I look like a basketball player to you?”

Steve let out a snort as he grabbed another one.  “Okay, are you ready this time?” He asked, raising a single blonde brow.

“Oh, my god, yes.  Please, just throw it,” you said, but there was a slight grin toying at the corner of your mouth.

“What’s the magic word?” He asked.  This was, quite honestly, the most fun he’d had in ages.

You gave him a look that said you’d kill him if he didn’t give you a cough drop.  “Give me a cough drop before I break down sobbing because it hurts so bad?” You deadpanned.

“Okay, okay.  No need to get dramatic,” he said before he tossed another one.  This one hit your forehead before falling into your lap.

“If you want dramatic, I can turn into a Disney princess right now,” you giggled.  Your voice was weak, but it was hard to muster up the energy to talk sometimes.  Actually, not even sometimes.  Most times.

He watched you for a minute as you worked the wrapper of the cough drop off and popped it into your mouth.  “I’m Steve.  Steve Rogers.”

“Well, hello, Steve.  Steve Rogers,” you said with a giggle, your words slightly distorted from the hard candy in your mouth.  You gave him your name as he tossed you the other two cough drops.

It was nice to have someone to talk to.  It had been four days since the two of you entered the hospital before you had called out to him.  And yeah, he still had his phone.  He texted and called Bucky everyday, but it wasn’t the same as having a face-to-face conversation.

It also kinda helped that you were really, really pretty, even when you were sick and exhausted.

In fact, he couldn’t remember anyone that he thought was as pretty as you.

“Stevie?” You said a week and a half later.  It had gotten worse.  So much worse.  You had breathing tubes in, as well as an IV.  His wasn’t as bad.  He just required the IV.

Your nurses tried to get you to stay in your beds, but they soon gave up the fight, choosing instead to help the both of you move your chairs so you could talk to each other, separated by a hallway.

“Yeah, doll face?”  Steve’s heart was hurting as he watched you with sad blue eyes. You were wrapped up in one of his hoodies, drowning in the fabric.  He’d gotten Bucky to run by his apartment and grab him some more comfortable clothes, though he’d had to leave it with a doctor and wasn’t allowed to see him.

They couldn’t risk it. “They’re talking about a second wave,” you said as you wrapped your blanket tighter around you, pulling your knees up to your chest.  “They wanna start opening things in late May…  But it’s too early…  I…”  You swallowed thickly, your heart pounding against your rib cage.  “I’m so scared, Stevie.”

“Hey…”  There was nothing he wanted more than to be able to walk across the hall and take you into his arms.  “Whatever happens, you’ve got me.  You hear me?  We’re in this together, okay?  And we’re gonna make it.  We’re gonna make it because we gotta.”

That night, he waited for the lights to go out and for the nurses to switch over to the night shift.  A lot of the nurses weren’t as vigilant about taking care of them as the day shift, and he knew he could use that to his advantage.

He knew this was risky, but he had to do it.

Steve carefully got out of bed and dragged his monitor behind him, taking slow measured steps.  He’d waited about an hour after rounds, knowing that they wouldn’t be coming for another three.  It gave him plenty of time.  He tiptoed across the hall after ensuring that the coast was clear, slipping into your room.

The room was bathed in a soft blue light coming from the open curtains, a billboard outside flashing.  You looked so peaceful, finally asleep after tossing back and forth for hours.  The blue tones glistened against your soft skin.  You were so quiet that his eyes instinctively flickered over to the heart monitor, listening to the quiet beeping that reassured him that you were alive.

He wobbled the chair over to the side of your bed, being careful not to drag it so it didn’t squeak and alert a nurse or doctor.  When it was finally in place, he sunk into it with a relieved sigh.

Your nose scrunched up at the faint noise.

“Dollface,” he whispered as he gently caressed your cheek, his heart pounding.  This was the first time he’d ever gotten to touch you.  This was the first time he’d been close enough to even attempt it.

Your eyes fluttered open, blinking sleepily at him.  “Stevie?”

“Hey…,” he said softly as he traced the patterns of her face.  “It’s me…  Don’t worry…”

“What are you doing here?” You asked, her voice a hoarse whisper.  “We’re supposed to be—”

“I know,” he said as he gently scratched your scalp.  “But I’m worried…  And you need me.”

You slowly relaxed back against your pillow as your eyes searched his face.  He liked when you were soft like this.

Well, he liked you all the time, but still.  He liked you most when you were sleepy and relaxed.

“How are you feeling?”

With a shrug, you let your eyes close again.  “I don’t know…  I’ve been better.”  A sigh escaped your lips as you opened your eyes again, trying your best to not melt too far into him.  You didn’t want to fall asleep when this was the first time you’d gotten to feel him near.  “We’re lucky… Our cases aren’t as bad as what others are going through…”

That was true.  Others were on respirators, going into comas.  You two were lucky.

And he was so grateful for that.

“I was thinking…,” he murmured.

A snort.  “That’s never good.”

He gave you a look, raising his brows.  “Apparently people aren’t… completely better even after they’re cleared of the virus…,” he said.  He was watching your face carefully for any sign of a reaction.  “And I live alone.  And you said you have roommates but two of them are considered essential workers, which means there’s a risk of you getting it again…  And I was just thinking…”

“Yeah?...” You probed, sitting up a little.

“We’re gonna need someone to help us… without risking the others that we love, and I just…”  He coughed to clear his throat, his cheeks red.  “I was thinking maybe you could move in for a little while?  Maybe until all this has passed?  And we can… we can…”

Your eyes flickered over his face.  “We can take care of each other?”

Steve nodded, swallowing around the lump that had formed in his throat.  “Yeah.  We can take care of each other…  I’ll have your back and you’ll have mine.  And maybe it’s quick, but... ”

Can’t you feel it? He wanted to ask.  Can’t you feel this thing between us?  This connection that was found and fostered in possibly the darkest time of this generation’s existence?  This love that made me think that maybe there is a Grace in the world?  Because otherwise, how the hell would I have been able to find you?

But he knew that was probably a lot, even if the feeling he had when he looked at her was a little bit more than like.

“But… you barely know me.”

“That’s not true,” he breathed out quietly, a finger running down your jaw.  “I know about your family.  I know your first pet’s name and where it’s buried.  I know that you like white Christmas lights over rainbow because you like how it can look like snow if it’s done right.”

Tears were in your eyes, your cheeks flushed as you listened to him.

A smile crept up on his lips.  “I know you like the citrus flavored cough drops, and you have to sleep with a blanket on, even if it’s eighty degrees outside.  I know how much you love cheesy rom-coms and you can only watch horror movies at night because otherwise you’ll have nightmares.”  His forehead rested against hers, your noses brushing.  “I know you.  And I wanna take care of you.  When we get out of here, I don’t want to forget you.  I want to spend my life with you.  And maybe that’s too much too soon and more than a little cheesy, but—”

“Stevie…”  You were the one who leaned in first and pressed your lips to his, the salty taste of your tears mixing in with your peppermint chapstick.  “I’m not easy to take care of.  I’m even more stubborn when I’m feeling helpless like I am now…”

“That’s okay,” he said as he pecked your lips again, letting it linger.  The two of you knew that a nurse could come down the hall any second and catch you, but it didn’t matter.  You were together and you were alive.  “I don’t need easy.  I just need you.”

[anika-ann]

WINSoD - Pt.4

What You Need (Is What I’m About)

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2, part 3)  

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader, one more ;)  Word count: 3400

Summary: In which fate has a strange sense of humour, the Maximoffs appear and... well. 

Warnings: brief violence, mention of death, messing around in one’s brain, language, cutesy and fluff (yep, it’s all there)

Part 3

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

You watched the kettle quiver as the temperature of the water climbed towards the boiling point. You’d like to say your blood was reaching it too, but despite the warm hoodie (Steve’s, naturally), you were feeling coldness seeping into your very core.

You hated waiting for him. You had never been a fan of it, sitting on your ass and stressing until he returned from a mission, bruised and usually bloody, but this time it was something else. This time, you had more than just a vague idea of what he was fighting; you had witnessed it first-hand. An army of fucking robots.

The team had left 43 hours ago, but who the hell was counting, right? Certainly not you. And you had certainly not been feeling the urge to ask Jarvis (R.I.P., my beloved A.I.) like every half an hour for any updates. You weren’t that desperate. You weren’t that scared-

Yeah, not even you were having your bullshit anymore.

You were shivering in cold from losing sleep, terrified and over all out of your mind. Nothing helped to ease your worries. Definitely not the fact they hadn’t made any contact ever since they had left.

They consisted of the usual Avengers team; Nat, Clint, Tony, Bruce and Thor, plus Bucky. All of them under Steve’s attentive command.

Surprisingly, Matt Murdock – also known as a freaking vigilante (a blind lawyer!!) – did not join the quest. He had said that robots were way outside his territory. You would beg to differ, because he punched the robot like a champ, yet you didn’t quite blame him for refusing. Bottomline, you still thought he was pretty swell (not to mention easy on the eyes, but that was beside the point). He had saved your life though, so you might be a bit biased. A lot biased.

Sam Wilson might have fought once too, but he would sit this one out as well. It was not helping your anxiety.

The soft click of the kettle brought you back to reality and you grabbed the handle to pour water into your mug, only to see you failed to actually put a teabag in it.

To be fair, you would have sworn you had done it, but that was just another prove of you losing your mind. At this rate you were about to burn the kitchen down – not that you felt like cooking… or eating for that matter. Steve was out there, in his own sci-fi movie that had somehow become reality and-

You sighed and set the kettle down, reaching for the box with chamomile tea. Taking one bag, you felt a strange gust of wind and curled into the hoodie as a shiver ran down your spine. Was the air-conditioning misbehaving…? Perhaps it was an aftermath of what they called the Ultron mess-

You shook your head, scolding yourself for getting paranoid and went to finally finish the simplest task of making yourself tea.

Only for your blood turning to ice when you noticed the teabag was missing. You had just put it there half a minute ago, you were sure of it. Your heart started hammering in your chest as you spun on your heels, your eyes scanning the room.

The cupboard behind your head clacked and your head swiftly snapped back to it. Feeling your own pulse pounding in your temples, you forced your brain to come up with a rational explanation.

You were losing your mind, you were imagining things, you hadn’t slept in almost two days, your mind was playing tricks on you-

Another gust of wind and the kettle disappeared from your hands, a shriek escaping your lips. On instinct, you opened the drawer and pulled out a knife. You were probably useless with it, basically offering it the potential attacker as a weapon, because they would be able to disarm you and use it to their advantage, but you didn’t give a shit. You felt better being armed.

What the fuck was happening?!

A man suddenly appeared by your left hip, like a hurricane inside of the room, and your body acted on its own, driving the knife in his side.

Or you attempted to; the knife met something solid that could not have been a body and the blond – he was a blond man, younger, hell, looking younger than you, dressed in a jumpsuit – stared at you with his mouth hanging open.

It was only then when you registered a strange red matter--- no, something unsubstantial, like an energy, swirling and changing, hovering around the blade that had stopped an inch from the man’s torso.

“Taka se ubivate, kolibri,” a female voice sounded from the other side of the room, nearly sending you into a cardiac arrest.

Yet, you couldn’t tear you gaze away from the strange man, whose face was now twisted in annoyed grimace as the woman seemed to be scolding him.

What kind of a language was that anyway?

Really not relevant.

There were two strangers in the Tower, in the very same room as you, they could be talking about how to kill you the most painful way and you wouldn’t even know, and for fuck’s sake, why couldn’t you catch a break-

“Ne ti e zabavno, foĭerverk,” he hummed back, his lips spreading in a smile, baffling you to no end. “Zdraveĭ, krasavitse.”

Your hand still on the handle of the knife that was no longer under your control, of which you refused to let go though because you were not a complete idiot, you had no idea what to do.

The man sounded almost friendly, but then again, villains often did. Sleazy. You would know.

A tremble ran through your body and out of nowhere, you made a lightning-fast decision of kicking the man in the crotch.

Your knee only brushed his manhood when your leg was no longer yours. With horror filling every cell in your body, you realized it was caught in the freaky red spiderweb of energy and you couldn’t move it no matter how much you tried.

Tears filled your eyes and suddenly you were free, the man several feet from you. A gorgeous young woman, dressed even more strangely than him – crimson leather jacket, black and half-torn leather leggings with high boots with way too many straps, her outfit completed by sleeves peeking from under her jacket –, stood next to him, cuffing him in the back of his head.

“Idiot!” she hissed and in the back of your mind, the one tiny corner that was not occupied with the fact you might die in the next second, you thanked god for some words being international.

Then, the girl with long wild red hair smiled at you apologetically, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

“Hello. Sorry for startling you,” she spoke with thick accent which you identified as Eastern-European and shot her companion a murderous look. “My brother is an ass and doesn’t know the difference between being funny and scaring people.”

She didn’t sound menacing at all; in fact, you saw every responsible older sibling annoyed at their younger family member in her. You blinked away the sting in your eyes and attempted to focus despite the ringing in your ears.

“Huh?” slipped from your lips intelligently, utter confusion gradually replacing your despair.

The blond rolled his eyes, which only earned him another clip round his ear.

“See what you’ve done? This is all your fault!”

“I was just messing around!”

“Do you have any idea what she’s been through? You scared her to death!” the woman hissed, effectively sending you back to the spiral of dismay, your slowly calming heartbeat skyrocketing again.

What did she know about what you had been through?!

With your knees wobbly and not to be trusted to keep you upright on their own anymore, you gripped the counter behind you with such force your muscles cramped.

“Who- who are you?” you breathed out shakily, catching the attention of the supposed sibling duo once more.

The woman smiled warmly, patronizingly almost.

“My name is Wanda and this is my brother, Pietro. We are of Sokovia. Your Captain and the other Avengers found us, showing us that we were fighting on the wrong side of things. Would you like to see?”

Her words echoed in your suddenly dull skull, the meaning escaping you.

And because her last sentence was what made sense the most and yet the least, you nodded.

Later, you would realize just how stupid and trusting you had been when agreeing, mostly because Steve gave you his look of disappointment and horror, but at the moment, it seemed right.

Somehow, on a level you couldn’t quite comprehend, you already understood they weren’t a threat to you.

“See how?”

Wanda smiled.

*Like this,* a ghost of her voice sounded somewhere deep in your mind, making you dizzy. What the hell-? *Please, don’t judge me. I thought I was doing the right thing.*

Before you could question such statement or the fact her lips were not moving while you heard her voice crystal clear, you were thrown into a vortex.

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Ultron had been sure they were coming; he left a bait for them, an easy track to follow. The track they could follow towards their end.

Wanda wasn’t one to enjoy killing or hurting people in general, no. She hadn’t even considered herself a strong person once, but that had all changed with their parent’s deaths. She had had to rely on herself – on herself and on her brother. Where an opportunity had risen, to step up their game and possibly to get revenge on the name still haunting them in their worst nightmares, they hadn’t even hesitated.

Wanda had once been a weakling. It had been the tempering in fire, in a burning pain of experimentation with the sceptre that had made her the woman who she was now.

And she had a mission; she and Pietro had a mission, their chance at revenge finally gaining a shape.

She had already played with Stark’s mind, with the scum only interested in money and destruction; now she could do the same to all of them.

Bursting in with a crash, they clearly hadn’t expected such livid counterattack. A response so… nightmare-like.

Just a flick of wrist and a little concentration on Wanda’s part and they were dropping like dead, trapped in their own minds.

Black Widow, locked in a scary base, ballet dancers, martial art training and merciless killing, her fresh fears creating a horror picture of aiming her gun at her current lover’s head, at her soulmate.

“I should have known you’d never change. You’re nothing but human reduced to a murder machine…”

Thor, oh so mighty God, travelling back to his home planet to a feast, legends messing with his headspace, confusion and helplessness, thunder and lightning all around and out of his control.

“You’ll kill us all! See, son of Odin, close your eyes and see!”

The righteous captain, trapped in his own mind, folded like a house of cards under his soulmate’s dead eyes, anger and accusation blossoming into hate and finally indifference.

“You cared about your 40’s sweetheart more, anyway, didn’t you? If it was her in my place, you would have chosen her before the thousands. You wouldn’t let her blow up… but if I’m nothing to you, then you are nothing to me…”

Satisfied with her work, with only a nudge to their consciousness and their own brains doing the work for her, Wanda smirked as she noticed the busy archer. Now what tricks his could mind come up with? What hardship would he get caught in?

As she slowly sneaked behind his back, a voice snarled behind her, causing her heart to stop from more than a simple fright.

“Kak mozhe neshto tolkova malko da prichini tolkova nepriyatnosti?”

Her first reaction to her blood crystallizing in her veins with horror and rage towards the whole fucking universe, was a snarky reply.

How dared he to call her small? Implying she was weak? Underestimating her and saying that she couldn’t cause any real trouble? Oh, she would show him… that arrogant bastard! She would show him trouble-

“Laĭna…ti mi narichash nepriyatnosti?” she hissed back, carelessly losing the sight of the archer, not interested in him in the slightest all of sudden. “Vie ste strana s greshni khora!”

This stranger, this—this man-machine radiating pain as her powers barely brushed the surface of his mind on instinct… he was the real trouble as she didn’t hesitate to tell him. He was on the wrong side of things! Fraternizing with a mass murderer, with her parent’s killer-

“Pone te sa kho—” he wanted to argue, but they his mind stopped before it started screaming, punching her telepathic powers she seemed suddenly unable to turn off.

Memories, a dozen of his own memories, the way he looked at his soulmark in a mirror, the pain, the sorrow, the torture… his encounter with the Avengers, living with them; with the band of heroes she just put down, one by one, teasing and laughter, compassion and acceptance, even from the man who was supposed to be nothing but a cocky heartless bastard-

“What the hell did you just say?” Bucky rasped, astonished and horrified.

He realized it too then. Everyone always did, didn’t they? Because every person with a soulmark awaited a moment like this; the moment someone would finally say the words matching the ones on their skin, met their expectations or not…

But Bucky Burnes was the farthest from Wanda’s dream when it came to a life-long partner.

Strength is tempered in fire, she remembered reading once. She had once found a special irony in the fact that the treatment by the sceptre felt exactly like that. Wanda’s soul turned to steel with the games the fate had played with her.

So why did her hands fell from their defensive position to her side, limp and drained of all strength and determination they had known, tears stinging her eyes.

Her life was shit and she thought she had made her peace with that. But judging by the deep ache in her chest, she had been holding out for her soulmate more than she had thought. Because why else would it hurt so bad when she found out he was an enemy?

“And I thought Romeo and Juliet was just a lot of crap,” she chuckled bitterly, switching to English when he did.

His thoughts scream at her, disbelief, caution, pain, confusion, regret and hope— ambivalence. He had no idea what to do and he hated her for what she had done to his friends, but the knowledge of her being his, supposedly, it torn him in half, reaching out with willingness to forgive her if she fixed it, because if anyone understood fighting at the wrong side it was him--

Unable to resist, she dug deeper into his mind, baring his very soul, fascinated.

Pietro was still fighting with the archer and Stark, dodging the lame attempts at attack of the Avengers lost in their minds, but for two people, the time stopped.

They stood against each other, staring and motionless, and Wanda was confident she saw more than him. His mind was a tangled mess of emotions and desperate desire to get a hold of them and think rationally, bundle of memories and hopes colliding with reality and rock-solid facts and Wanda felt a pang at her heart, a crushing sensation in her chest when she finally embraced everything his headspace had to offer, getting lost in it.

Lost in him.

James Buchannan Barnes had a beautiful soul. Torn and glued together with little kind gestures from his friends, sweet memories of his sister and everlasting friendship with Steve, his no-longer-little-but-equally-stubborn Steve, Steve’s soulmate, his teammates that accepted Bucky with surprising ease and less judgement anyone would deserve… and the careful way he was giving away the pieces of the very same heart that was barely together, in gentle smiles and good-natured teasing, silent self-declaration of giving his whole life for every single one member of his new-found family.

And Wanda understood. In a fraction of second she looked under the illusions she had helped to build in the Avengers’ minds and saw the truth.

*Pietro, spri!* she cried out straight into his mind, begging him to stop fighting. With another flick of her wrist, her enemies were free of her handiwork, shell-shocked from the experience, too lost to find their footing. “Brat, spri! Pietro… greshim. They are right.”

The battle froze as if the time did and for a second, Wanda felt like she was in her brother’s skin, moving so fast that the world around her stopped turning. The stunned silence was only broken by a soft gush of wind when Pietro appeared by her side.

The Avengers seemed so baffled at her admission they didn’t try to attack them.

She exchanged a look with her twin, hoping her face spoke volumes as tears gathered in her eyes. She was far from convinced that Anthony Stark was a good man; but she knew he was better than the creature they had sworn to assist. And her mother always used to say that a man should be judged by the company he kept. From what she had seen in Bucky Barnes’ head, Stark had one bunch of fine people around; and their imperfections seemed to be balanced by the good they all wished to do.

Pietro understood. Of course he would. More than he could read her expression, he must have felt the change in Wanda’s aura, the transformation touching their bond as well.

He graced her with a reluctant nod of agreement. Via their mental connection, he whispered he trusted her. Her lips curled up in a tender smile.

“Are we just gonna stand here? Are we fighting together or against each other or what?!”

No, Tony Stark was by no means a man she would call good. In fact, she already found out he was an ass. But now, he had become her ally.

From all the eyes on their duo, she chose to meet her soulmate’s.

“Together, Anthony. Because there’s bigger malice in this world than you are.”

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Wanda nearly cut you off right then. The rest of what she showed was a blur of images, fear, pain and determination, destruction and cooperation, all of that leading to this very moment. It all resembled waking up from a very intense confusing dream, being pulled away into consciousness by the first sunrays of the dawn.

You blinked heavily as the world swayed off its place, the counter seemingly in a peculiar angle from your point of view.

Why was the lamp not up, but on the side? Why was it spinning?

“Oops. Sorry. Never made the connection for such a long period of time-“ a voice reached you, breaking through the hush of blood and your own heartbeat in your ears.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to get a fucking grip on both your body and thoughts.

Bucky had a soulmate?

No, not relevant, the images were too unclear for you to be sure everyone made it out alright, you needed to see Steve first, you had to-

By the time Steve’s figure appeared in your field of vision, you were certain you were steady on your feet and finally managed to control your mouth.

“Steve!” you cried out excitedly as you sprang his direction, relief mixing with delight, because he was alive, he was not bleeding visibly, he-

-was suddenly graced with an identical twin, two loving tired smiles blending into one and splitting into two the next moment, swimming in your vision and you felt something solid grabbing your body and positioning it right into his strong arms.

You gazed at him in haze, melting into his warm and firm embrace, spotting a swirl of red energy flow around you.

Oh. Wanda’s work, no doubt. Sweet.

“Are you okay, doll? Are you sick? What happened?”

Wanda’s guilt was nearly solid in your reach, but you only let your head lull onto Steve’s shoulder, plunging into the fluff of love that his presence provided.

“Nah. I’m fine… just drunk on you…” you mumbled.

The girl’s bubbly relieved laughter rang in the room, bringing a satisfied smile on your face.

Steve’s kiss landed on your forehead, corners of his own lips upright despite the concern in his voice.

“Alright, sweetheart. Let’s just get you to bed…”

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Part 5

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Thank you for reading!

I chose Bulgarian, just to avoid traditional Russian this once. Bucky is a Winter Soldier after all and he should know how to speak 30 languages or so :D just thought this would work. Google translator used; apologize for any mistakes.

I hope you had an okay start to 2021 :-*

[hainethehero]

The HARRINGROVE War AU that no one asked for...

"Jetty!"

"Oh fuck!"

"Fucking hell man! We're fucking dead-"

"Shut the fuck up Meyers!"

"Andrews! Get the medic!"

"Fuck- my goddamn arm!"

"Tommy-!"

The sounds are still in his head, knocking around his brain inside his skull. His eyes haven't closed in days and he's pretty sure his skin is falling off his bones. He feels sick and dirty and his hair feels dirty and unkempt. It had grown back so fast in the short period of time he'd been here... in Hell.

His body hurts, bones jarring and scraping against each other with every movement. There's a throbbing on the left side of his ribs, and the stinging pain of a festering wound on his right. It's been burning for days. His legs are sore, right leg wrapped up to the knee and oozing thick, dark red. The bandages around his head have started getting sticky with sickening ointment and congealed blood. His lips sting painfully every time he passes his tongue over them. They're cracked and busted in several places, red and raw where the skin's been opened.

God, what had they done to him?

He feels a presence near him and freezes, even though the bombs ringing in his head don't quite stop exploding.

"Hi Ms. Nancy, how's he been?"

"You're always right on time Soldier."

The woman's voice sounds familiar but he can't place it in his hazed state.

"I made him a promise." The man responds, a dark, echoing loneliness in his voice.

"Of course," Ms. Nancy replies, walking closer to fix something very near to his left side.

And somehow, his body fails him and goes stiff, sitting upright with his eyes wide and frightened. His jaw is locked tight and his fists are clenched, knuckles white. Every instinct in his body is warning him to get away- to run away from the danger, as if he'd be torn apart by the bomb Ms. Nancy was currently setting atop the bed. A terrified whine escapes his throat and a solitary tear runs down his pale cheek.

"He's been getting worse huh?" The Soldier asks, not unkindly, just kind of sad.

"So far, we've only seen nine cases of men recovering from shell-shock. It's not promising... one of them died last night."

"Died? Did it spread?"

"No Soldier. He put a gun in his mouth."

There's a sudden silence that falls over them, cold breeze billowing through the over-arching windows of the stone Catholic church they'd set up the triage in. Even the pained and terrified moans and cries of grown men had fallen into the hush, as if God himself were present.

Then Ms. Nancy speaks again:

"There's been a new shipment of iodine and sodium hydroxide today. From the French. We've been ordered to ration it but I think he needs his wounds cleaned again."

"Thank you."

........................

He hates when the nurse bathes him.

Hates how useless it makes him feel. Hates that he'd become so cowardly, like a child afraid of the dark. Her thin but gentle hands wash over him, soothingly passing the clean water over his skin, careful not to disturb the wounds. But he feels so wounded all over.

By the time he's back in bed, the night has taken over for the day, and hundreds of his comrades have already conceded to sleep. But he stays wide awake, terrified and paranoid that a bomb's going to go off in the middle of the night and kill everyone while they rest peacefully. So he keeps his rifle by his bedside, ready for a fight.

"Goodnight Soldier." Ms. Nancy says softly, not to him, but to the man sitting beside him.

The Soldier's been with him since the trenches. He was a good man, and a steady presence of stability in these crazy days. He could recall some kind of kinship between them, comprised of half-hearted banter, terrible jokes and early morning conversations that were for their ears only. Talking to him had made being in those vile and unsanitary trenches a little better. They often talked about being back home, safe and surrounded by friends who loved them. Their families were another story but that was beside the point.

"Got a letter today," the Soldier tells him, drinking out of an aluminium canteen. His finger twitches, almost as if he's fighting to respond but is paralyzed to do so.

"From Maxine."

Maxine was Soldier's sister...

She told me that my Dad and Susan were planning to move out of California. Stupid, right? She said something about Indiana, and starting over in a small town. Who knows pretty boy? They might even move to that good ol' Hawkins you keep telling me about."

Pretty Boy... that's Soldier's pet name for him.

"A letter came for you too. From your father."

He must've gasped in shock because suddenly the Soldier is staring up at him with those unreal blue eyes, lips slightly parted in surprise. He feels the Soldier's hand on his shoulder and it's warm and comforting. It beds down the shock a little bit; shock at the fact that his father had written a letter to him. He may have been in shell-shock but even his mind could recall the time when John Harrington said that he was dead to him. That until he'd made something of himself, he would never be accepted- would never be his son.

"Steve? You with me kid?"

Kid.

The Soldier always called him that, despite being not much older himself. He preferred that nickname to rookie though, since he'd only just started while the Soldier had been on this tour since late last year. He remembers the absolute feeling of dread that had filled his body when the draft had come around and his name was on that godforsaken piece of paper. His parents had been all too ecstatic to ship him off on his merry way. He'd been writing to them, feverishly begging for their mercy. Hadn't gotten a letter back since he'd started writing to them.

"Wh- ...what d...does it say?" he hears himself ask softly, throat shaking with emotion. "Can- ...um, can you read it to me Bill?"

Billy- no longer the abstract Soldier in his mind- sighs and leans over in the chair, elbows resting on his knees. He's holding a piece of paper in his hands, fists closed tight, his knuckles white.

"Please Bill..."

"Hold on pretty boy," Billy whispers as gently as he can, blue eyes staring hard at the neat, professional penmanship of who must've been John Harrington, Steve's father. It was concise and void of any kind of human emotion.

"Steve,

Stop sending us letters. It upsets your mother and I'm much too busy to sit down and write replies."

Billy feels his heart break into pieces for the poor kid and he doesn't have the heart to put him through such harsh words. He folds it up quickly and clears his throat.

"Y'know what? I brought Max's letter by accident."

"W- what?"

"Must've left it in the command wing. It's fine, we can always get it some other time."

Steve looks at him, big brown doe-eyes confused and sad at the same time. "What if it's an emergency?"

Billy scoffs. "Trust me, they ain't fighting a war back in ol' Hawkins. Your folks can wait. You on the other hand, need to get some sleep."

A soft smile creeps up on Steve's pretty face and he blushes soft pink. "Well at least tell me what's been going on Boss."

That was his pet name for Billy.

"Where's Tommy?"

Billy's expression suddenly changes and he's no longer pained. Just angry. And lost and so fucking confused. War brought out the worst in men, and it was always hard to fight alongside the corpses of men he'd spent weeks, months in the trenches with. They were all family, and losing even one of them was the worst pains Billy had ever faced.

Steve's hopeful expression turns ever so slightly and now he looks awfully worried.

"Bill? Billy where's Tommy?"

Billy glances up into the kid's eyes and sees nothing but hopelessness there as realization dawns upon him. Steve bursts into wailing tears and crashes back onto the pillows, hands covering his face. His wails trigger some of the sleeping men and they wake up in a shock, disgruntled yells and curses filling the large hall.

"Settle down Soldier," a tired looking nurse hisses, looking more panicked than mad. She gives Billy a pointed glare and goes about on her way to putting the terrified men back to sleep.

Billy sighs and shushes Steve as gently as he can, petting the boy's soft hair until he quiets. He feels a weariness wash over him and crawls into the bed to lay down next to the kid. Steve wastes no time in burying his face in Billy's neck, silent sobs wracking through his frail body. Billy wraps him up in his arms, a scalding hot wave of protectiveness flaring inside his chest.

"It's okay kid, I've got you. I promise," he whispers in Steve's ear, stroking his back in slow, deliberate motions. The pretty brunette cries and cries until he cries himself to sleep, snuggled into the larger soldier, as if he was the only protection he needed.

Billy just holds him through the night.

[banashee]

Part 2/2 of Tony setting the kitchen on fire for @hopelessly-me :D ♥

Enjoy ♥

...Honey, it’s still fucking frozen.

 One day, Clint finally caves.

 “Tony. You know I love you, but       please     - let me show you how to cook. I can’t take it anymore.” he tells him over ice cold dinner. The archer pokes a piece of meat with his fork to prove his point.

 Tony nods slowly, but he also says,

 “Last time it was burned. So now I cooked it for less time.”

 Clint blinks at him, knocking on his plate with the meat, which results in a solid noise.

 “...Honey, it’s still fucking frozen.”

 “...Okay, yeah.” Tony sighs, shoving the plate away from himself.

 “Sorry, I know the last few months of my cooking haven’t been pleasant. At least I didn’t burn the house down yet.” he adds, with a small smile to lighten the mood, but it is clear he is not happy with his results.

 “The alarm didn’t go off in a while, that’s progress, right?” Clint shoots back a lopsided smile, before he continues,

 “Honestly though, I don’t mean to be condescending because that’s probably how I sound, and I’m really sorry for that, but… I know you’re trying, and I know you don’t like help with things… In general, and I get that. But don’t you think that it would be better in the long run?”

 Their hands meet over the table, warm and solid as they squeeze and hold on, thumbs caressing each other. Clint and Tony have been home to one another for a long time now, and they know with a bone deep certainty that they can talk about things without making a personal vendetta of it, no matter how small or big the issue is. It’s just not how they work - what they have is easy going and it always has been.

 A casual friendship with benefits quickly turned into more, and after months of pining and awkwardness, they finally got a move on and figured out their feelings for each other. That talk had been halting and even more awkward than the weeks before, but it led to mutual three-word-sentences and a future full of happiness.

 Tony smiles, squeezing the other man’s hand as he asks,

 “So, you don’t mind having to show me basic shit like cooking eggs without burning them to a crisp?”

 “No, of course not. I love you and I love cooking - there really is no downside here if you ask me.”

 “Alright, then. Thanks, Babe.” Tony leans forward for a kiss, which Clint is all too happy to give him. The cold dinner on the table is almost forgotten in the next few minutes, but as it turns out, it is the perfect opportunity to start.

 “Okay, so, let’s put this back into the pan and crank the heat up. You want this to be warm and cooked through entirely. Then you - Tony… Please put down the salt shaker.”

 “I have salt and I am not afraid to use it!”

 “Yes I know, and that’s a problem! No, go away with that!” Laughing, the two of them tackle each other through the kitchen, until they end up pushed against the counter, foreheads touching and giggling like lovesick teenagers.

 “Will you give up on any harsh decisions regarding the salt?” Clint asks, in a mock-serious tone that is actually a pretty good impression of what Phil Coulson sounds like, and Tony grins at him, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief.

 “I      am     small and salty. Never.” he tries to snatch back the salt shaker, attempting to distract Clint with more makeout opportunities. He leans in, pulling Tony close with one arm and holding the salt shaker up over his head with the other - it’s a dick move, but it works. His boyfriends sputtering at the offensive act only makes Clint  laugh more, but they need to flip the meat in the pan before their dinner burns once again, so their bickering is interrupted.

 A little while later, their dinner is actually warm and not only edible, but really, really good at that. Tony is still surprised that they managed to save it, especially since there have been instances where this would have been simply impossible. But then again, he is lucky enough to have a partner who knows how to save messed up food, given there is a way left to salvage it in the first place.

 “What’s the worst that ever happened to you while cooking?” Tony casually asks another night, while he is chopping vegetables into accurate cubes - they’re making stir fry, and the task at hand is easy and repetitive enough to chat away. Besides, he is used to handiwork, so this is totally doable.

 Clint shoots him a knowing, amused look.

 “...I almost set my kitchen in the SHIELD bunk on fire. It was like three in the morning and I couldn’t sleep, so I wanted to make a dessert with flambé bananas. Well, let’s just say it didn’t go as planned and my neighbours fucking hated my guts for setting off the fire alarm in the middle of the night… That was about 15 years ago, and goddammit, some people      still    bring it up.”

 Tony laughs, loudly.

 “Well, thank fuck you know what you’re doing now - imagine the two of us being Fire Hazards together, the tower would have burned to the ground ages ago. Imagine SHIELD on our asses for it. Or worse, Cap.”

 Slowly, he shakes his head. No one wants to see Steve’s “I am very disappointed in you”-face if they can help it. To be fair, when it doesn’t come to cooking, and more like, battles or developing weapons, the two of them combined are still a fire hazard. But that’s different, really.

 Clint, however, stops chopping with his knife mid air, head crooked to the side as he gently lowers it onto the cutting board. Then, he asks, completely straight faced,

 “...Did I ever tell you that Fury has backup-plans, just in case the two of us should be going rogue?”

 Putting down his knife as well, Tony fixes his partner in a suspicious stare. Despite everything, this is news to him, and he is about 90% sure that at least on this occasion, Clint isn’t fucking with him. Also, this is totally something he’d expect Fury to do. The man is paranoid, and Tony definitely wouldn’t put such a thing past him.

 “Wait what? No, you didn’t. Spill.”

 With a laugh, Clint tells him,

 “Ever since Nat went undercover as your PA and it was clear that both of us would be part of the Avengers, Fury put protocols in place - covered a lot of hypothetical situations, actually, it was quite funny to read. I think the short version is he knows both of us and our, dare I say, slightly chaotic tendencies…”

 With a snort of laughter, Tony collapses against the counter. This is putting it lightly and they both know it, but he enjoys hearing the story.

 Clint continues,

 “Technically I’m not supposed to know that, but Tasha told me about it. She laughed for like, 10 minutes straight. Me, too, by the way.”

 “I bet - heh, sorry i can’t” it takes a bit for Tony to calm down enough to say,

 “I bet he put a lot more protocols in place ever since he got wind of us being an item. Honestly I’d love to see that list.”

 The corners of his mouth are still twitching, and he wipes amused tears out of his eyes as he keeps cackling away.

 “Oh hey, we should do a dramatic reading of that form!” he says then, and Clint is laughing too hard to answer, but he nods, vegetables forgotten on the counter for several minutes.

 He only barely manages to stop Lucky from stealing the chicken right off of the counter, which only makes him laugh harder as he tries to hold his dog back by the collar. Once again, Lucky looks like he is judging his humans - even his one remaining eye is pretty expressive.  

 Once they have calmed down a bit, they continue. Tony is about to put the vegetables into the frying pan, but Clint stops him.

 “Wait. Put in the onions and garlic first, let them get glassy and then add the rest of it in. One after the other. Hardest stuff first, softest last. That way you have everything cooked through without having some parts mushy in the end.” he explains, which is met with a surprised noise from his boyfriend.

 “Huh, that makes sense. Cooking       is     logical, after all.” Tony says, as if that’s news to him - truth be told, it probably is.

 “Of course it’s logical. What did you think?” Clint asks, even though he already knows the answer.

 “Magic? I don’t fucking know” Tony shrugs, but he looks very much satisfied. Even more so once everything is done. The stir fry turned out perfect, and the pasta only boiled over once - the kitchen is a mess, but the food is amazing, so it comes to no surprise that one after one, the other Avengers show up in the kitchen like a bunch of hungry sharks. Food always brings them together, especially if the delicious smells are wafting through the tower.

 Apart from the obvious - having to eat, having to help out and later on, hating the SHIELD cafeteria with a burning passion - this is why Clint learned how to cook in the first place. Food brings people together, brings in company.

 As someone who spent most of his life either lonely or socially awkward or both, Clint learned early on that if he feeds people, they will stick around - at least for a bit.  It is a long standing habit, and although he genuinely loves cooking and baking, because it’s fun and relaxing, the people aspect is a big motivation as well.

 Feeding people keeps them around and Clint recognizes that this might be a little sad. But he can’t deny that he likes doing it, one of the reasons being that, making food for someone shows that you care. As much as his social skills suck sometimes, Clint likes to take care of the people around him, especially loved ones.

 Lucky for him, there is almost always someone around, here in the tower, to enjoy whatever he spent the day cooking or baking. Especially if either Steve or Thor are home, he knows nothing will stay untouched for long. While those two will eat anything and everything that isn’t nailed down, Clint knows that Tony is usually a bit of a picky eater, but he will try everything Clint makes, because he knows from experience that it’s always good. He does have a bit of a sweet tooth though. Bruce on the other hand prefers savory things, which is why he himself is cooking a lot of spicy, indian food, but he will also happily go to town on a loaf of bread fresh out of the oven.

 Natasha, much like Phil and Pepper whenever they’re around, has a huge sweet tooth - whenever there are cookies or cake or anything else, she is the first to creep into the kitchen. Oftentimes, she steals balls of cookie dough and bowls with batter remaining in them. It gets even worse when Phil is around, because the two of them will team up to get all the sweet things - It’s highly classified, but you can totally buy Agent Coulson with sweet things.

 Clint knows all of this, especially since he’s known Phil and Nat for many many years. Therefore, he counts in whatever they are likely going to steal whenever he is baking - he’s known their systematic approach for ages now, but he doesn’t mind it. Not at all.

 Later that same night, Clint is sprawled out in bed, legs tangled with Tony’s and one arm wrapped around him. His head is pillowed on the other man's shoulder, face pressed into his favourite spot - the crook of Tony’s neck.  Restless fingers are lightly scratching his scalp, and the even breathing of his dog by their feet are almost lulling him to sleep. His other hand is lazily tracing invisible patterns on Tony’s back, fingers creeping under his shirt and against warm, smooth skin. The happy hum he gets in response causes small vibrations to travel through his entire body, even when he can’t hear it.

 They drift off to sleep like this, and when they are in the kitchen the next morning, Clint asks, as Tony keeps an suspicious eye on the scrambled eggs,

 “Do you want to bake bread with me later? We can use it tomorrow for french toast.”

 “...I’ll have to touch wet dough, do I?”

 “...Ideally, yes. But it’s fun, I promise. Careful, your eggs.” he adds, and Tony jumps to flip them - just in time - no harm done. He lets out a sigh of relief.  As it turns out, having someone close to help him get a hang of this really helps. Besides, Clint is a good teacher, and the whole love thing helps a lot. Just spending time together, really - and the compliments from their other teammates for last night’s dinner for example. All of it makes him want to keep going.

 “Okay, let’s do it” Tony says, and the happy smile on his boyfriend's face is more than enough motivation to say “yes” again the next time he asks if he wants to bake.

 As it turns out, baking is a whole different thing than cooking, which takes him by surprise. Especially since he needs to be a lot more accurate for this, while with cooking, there is at least a little bit of freestyling allowed. With baking? Not so much.

 “It’s sticky. Ew. Babe, why? Why did you do this to me?” Tony complains, making a face as he holds up his hands that are covered in admittedly clingy bread dough - he’s not quite sure he actually likes doing this.

 “It needs more flour - hold on.” Clint scrapes off as much dough from his hands as he can, carefully grabs the paper bag with two fingers and sprinkles a little bit more flour in both mixing bowls.

 “Try again, it should work itself out. If it cleans out the bowl we’re good.”

 “You said this was fun… Oh hey, that’s actually better now!” Tony exclaims in surprise, relieved that his bread dough isn’t nearly as sticky anymore - now, he can knead it with his hands without thinking of hacking them off right after. Truth be told, he is starting to see the fun part of this whole thing now.

 “See? You’re doing great by the way.” Clint tells him, a warm and happy feeling spreading out in his chest. He is incredibly happy to be able to have this - to have Tony by his side in the first place. Words can’t express how much he loves this man, and he hopes that Tony knows nonetheless.

 “I’ve got a pretty good teacher - you should meet him some time. He’s got amazing arms and an even better ass.” Tony is grinning over at Clint, absolutely not checking out those very much appreciated body parts while he does so. They have been together for quite some time, but the attraction to one another has not died down - not at all.

 “Oh, does he now?”

 “Very much so.”

 Cheesy flirting and easy banter is what they do best, and by the time their dough is covered and resting, Clint and Tony disappear upstairs and into the bedroom. They lose their clothes on the way, leaving a trail through the entire apartment until they fall into bed, wrapped tightly around one another and laughing in between kisses and wandering hands.

 There is plenty of time to pass until the bread is ready to be baked, after all.

*+~

Prompt 10: Teaching

[themusicplayedherlife]

Some Sugar

Part 4: I Need Something Fake

pairing: sugar daddy!steve rogers x reader characters: reader, steve rogers, others word count: 5k+ warnings: angst, fluff summary: things are looking up and you’re flying high a/n: ive broken i need something fake//it’s just manners to pretend into two parts after last chapters mishap. it was starting to get unnecessarily long lol

prev || all || next

Your mom is finally home. 

She still has to go back to the hospital for a final check of her arm and the chemotherapy treatments she has left, but you can finally breathe with relief that she’s home.

Esmeralda seems to be more at ease now that she’s back, too, less reluctant to stay at home while you’re at work. Not that she had to worry about that anymore. With what you’re getting from Steve, you’ve been going back and forth with the idea of turning in your two weeks notice at the restaurant or cutting back your hours at least. But you still can’t completely decide. Selena says you should quit, and you haven’t been able to get Steve's input with him currently being away on a mission. But you have a feeling you know what his answer is going to be.

“You cleaned,” she says softly and you smile.

You shrug. “I did what I could.”

Esmeralda throws a pillow in your direction and you dodge out of the way, laughter bubbling from your chest. “I helped too!”

“Did you?” you tease, passing by her with a ruffle of her hair. “If I remember correctly, you were just throwing shit at me instead of cleaning.”

“I was not!” she shoots back, curling herself into your mom’s good side, legs over her lap and her arms around her shoulder and stomach. “I really wasn’t, mom.” She really is the baby of the family.

Before your mom or you can say anything, a loud banging from your neighbor causes you to jump. It’s soon followed by muffled yelling from Mr and Mrs Pallomari, the two trying to outmatch one another’s voices—nothing new.

Your sister sighs heavily and your mom shakes her head. A loud, “Fuck you!” resounds through the hallway and into your apartment as the door is slammed hard enough to shake the walls.

“Straight couples,” Esmeralda says in a serious tone with a deadpan expression she throws in your direction as if she were in the Office, after a moment of silence she breaks it with a giggle and you and your mom can’t help but laugh with her.

However, your laughter is cut short when there’s a bang on your door, the hinge making a horrible screech as if ready to fall over followed by a loud, “Fuck everyone!” 

Esmeralda sighs and stands up, moving towards your tool box. “I’ll check the door.”

You send her a gracious smile tinged with nervousness. “And I’ll get started on dinner.”

You can’t sleep, body jerking awake with every sound you hear coming from the main hallway. Any little or loud sound could be Mr. Pallomari ready to fight with his wife and drag all of you into it, as he usually does. Their fighting hasn’t escalated in a while, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t again. 

It’s exhausting having to deal with them and all the shitty people that live in the building.

Not much you can do about that except move out. Maybe eventually you’ll have enough to do so. It’s plausible, but you don’t want to splurge, not yet anyway. Not until you’re more secure.

And besides, not everyone in this building is like them.

There’s Doña Garcia and her son Benito, who live across the hall from you. Sweet woman. And her son? A college student that your sister looks up to, having found a kindred spirit in him when she started questioning her sexuality. Both of them check in on your family whenever they have the chance, dropping off food when Doña Garcia cooks too much (but you have suspicions that she actually does it on purpose).

Then there’s Mayra, the sex worker who lives a floor below you, along with her five year old daughter, who you’ve fondly dubbed Juju; and her grandmother Marsha, who loves to gossip with Doña Garcia and your mother. You used to babysit Juju when you had the time, but now it’s Esmeralda who offers her assistance when she has the chance, which is rare since Marsha loves taking care of her granddaughter, but sometimes the older woman needs a break too.

Because of them, because there are good people, you’re not in any hurry to move out, but maybe you should start keeping your options open, especially if you’re lying awake late at night in fear of your neighbor and his tantrums.

You sigh, throwing your arm over your eyes, the faint sounds of people yelling out in the streets and sirens wailing filtering in through the closed windows. Should you make yourself a cup of tea? No. The pot makes a lot of noise and you don’t want to risk waking your sister up. 

You reach for your phone resting on the coffee table and quickly unlock it to scroll through your Instagram feed. You would text Steve or Selena, but you’re afraid of messaging him in fear of getting him in trouble or waking up Selena, who is guaranteed to be asleep by now. For now, you settle on liking pictures from old classmates you no longer keep in contact with.

So many old faces getting married or having kids, graduating and getting their masters, or just having the time of their lives.

It’s amazing how easy it is to lose contact with people who were once your friends. Everyone got so busy, including you, to make ends meet that you were no longer able to keep up with one another. You wonder what life would’ve been like if you didn’t live like this, if you had actually finished school—would you be in grad school? Married maybe? Thinking about kids?

Fuck. This is why you usually stay away from Instagram. You hate yourself for ever allowing yourself to think “what if?” when all you can do is work towards a better future, not a different past.

Your breath stutters and just as you’re about to place your phone back down after liking another picture of someone partying, it comes to life with Steve’s name. With your heart racing, you quickly answer.

“Steve! You’re back!”

He’s quiet for a moment and you suck in your bottom lip. “I’m back,” he finally says, soft and followed by a chuckle. “What are you doing up, sweetheart?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Did something happen?” He asks, worry ringing in his voice.

You stare up at your ceiling, not sure how to tell him about your neighbor. But it’s not important, and you’re most likely being paranoid anyway. “Not really, I just—mom is home and I've been kicked out to the living room. The couch isn’t very comfortable.”

There’s rustling on his end and you wonder if he’s getting ready for the night. “That’s great! Not you having to sleep on the couch, but your mom being home. How is she doing?”

“Fine. I think. Tired, but that’s nothing new.” He hums and you readjust yourself, pressing your back against the length of the couch's backrest as you turn on your side. “How was your mission?”

“Tiring,” he admits immediately, letting out a sigh—and he definitely sounds it. Frustrated too if that grunt he lets out absentmindedly as he moves around is of any indication. “Recon was a bust. Complete waste of time.”

“Is it okay for you to be telling me this?” 

He chuckles at your haste words and heat crawls up your neck. “Can’t give you details, but yeah, yeah I can. I want to.”

Your grip on your phone laxes, and you hadn’t even realized how tightly you were holding it. “Okay, then vent away.” You wonder if he can hear the smile in your voice.

“I wasn’t expecting you to answer.” He pauses. “At best, I thought I’d hear your voice through your voicemail and that would’ve been enough for me. But being able to talk to you right now… it makes me forget how stressful this mission has been.”

A soft kind of heat envelops you, taking hold of your heart with every sincere word he speaks. “Steve…”

“So, there isn’t any need to vent about. Really,” he adds softly.

You cover your chin with your blanket as if to hide your ever growing smile from him, dumb really. Not as if he could see you right now. “I get it.” And you do. You really do. “I think… I think I’ll be able to fall asleep now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The conversation lulls, his relaxed breathing filtering through the phone. And you can almost picture him sitting on the arm chair, head against the backrest, eyes closed as he breathes through his nose. Even when you close your eyes, you can feel his presence next to you.

Is this what it feels like to have someone to rely on? Someone who makes you feel safe and protected?

But your relaxation is short lived—loud noises and a male yelling fills the hallway, causing you to let out a gasp and to jerk up. On the other end of the line you hear Steve slur, asking you if you’re okay, but the noise drowns him out and a loud bang on your door causes you to drop your phone and to stand.

“Sis?” Esmeralda’s alarmed voice reaches your ears, and you quickly spare her a glance over your shoulder as she comes closer.

“It’s fine, Esme, go back to bed.”

“But—“

Another bang and the door makes a loud creaking sound. “Open the door, you dumb bitch!” 

Your heart tightens at Esmeralda’s wide eyes, fear slipping into them as they drift between you and the door. “Esme! Go back to bed, please. I’ll handle it!”

“He’s going to break the door!”

Before you can yell at her again, your door is thrown open and Mr. Pallomari stands in front of you, ragged and a complete mess. His eyes hazy and misted over—drunk. 

Fuck.

“Where is she?” He demands, face blotchy as he staggers forward.

You quickly stand in front of Esme, pushing her behind you, ignoring the way your heart races and breath picks up. “You have the wrong apartment, Mr. Pallomari! Your wife is not here.”

“Don’t lie to me!”

You need to get Esmeralda away from here. “Mr. Pallomari—“

“Where’s my wife?! Where is that bitch?!”

You push Esme further back and bend your neck to talk to her, doing your best to keep the drunk man in your peripherals, “Go. Call the police.”

“But—“

For fucksakes! Why doesn’t she ever listen to you? “Esme—“

“I’m going to kill her when I find her!”

It all happens so quickly that it almost feels like you’re dreaming—Esme lets out a loud shout and you turn just in time to watch Mr. Pallomari surge forward, his hands reaching for you. There isn’t enough time for you to push Esmeralda and yourself out of the way, not with your feet rooted to the ground—and before he can even grab an inch of you, his round body is tackled to the ground by a smaller, thin body.

“Benito?”

Benito has him by the arms, face pressed down to the ground, but he’s struggling to keep the older man's pudgy body down with his petite frame. It’s the concerned call of your name by Esme’s small voice that has you moving, dropping down to your knees and keeping a part of your weight on the buckling, drunk man to keep him down.

“Ay, dios mio!” Doña Garcia exclaims and Benito lets out a frustrated huff as he asks his mother to call the police just as you do the same with your sister.

“Thank you, officer.”

She nods and moves away from you to walk over to her partner as he pushes Mr. Pallomari into the back of the cop car.

“Good for Alicia for finally leaving her good for nothing husband,” Esme says, leveling a glare in the direction of the cop car flashing red and blue. “Poor woman needed a break.”

You crack a tired smile and wrap an arm around Esme, who leans into you. “She sure did. You okay, Bennie?”

Benito looks up from his phone, most likely texting his boyfriend about what transpired tonight, and nods. “Fine. A little sore,” he says as he circles his arm and holds his shoulder. “But I’ll live. What about you?”

“Rug burn—“ you kick your leg out to show off the wicked pattern on your knee from where you practically slid to help Benito—“but I’ll live too.”

He snorts. “I’m going to check up on our moms.” 

You nod as Esme pulls away and she looks up at you. “I’ll go with him and get started on the door.”

“Okay, I’ll be up in a minute.”

She squeezes your hand and follows after Benito, looking back at you once before disappearing behind the heavy metal door leading into the building.

Sighing, you cross your arms over your chest, gripping your forearms tightly as you watch the cops fill out some paperwork; Mr. Pallomari in the backseat with his eyes closed and teetering between the space of a drunken haze and sleep. Will he regret his decisions tomorrow? Or will he act like nothing happened?

Frowning, you’re not sure which one you’d like better.

You knew of people like Mr. Pallomari, regretting it for one night and then going back to the same old bullshit, pretending as if nothing ever happened. 

That kind of person isn’t  safe to live with or be around, and—you hate thinking it, but—you’re not sure if all the good people you live around is enough to keep you rooted here anymore.

A frantic call of your name causes you to jump in your skin, hands falling to your side as your eyes widen when you spot Steve jogging in your direction with only a cap to conceal his identity. 

“Steve?”

You don’t get the chance to meet him halfway because he closes the distances between you two in record time, engulfing you in his strong, sweaty arms. His chest heaves under your ear and you stand there dumbfounded, not returning his hug.

How?

He pulls away from you to check you over, hands on your shoulder as his eyes rake up and down your tired form. For a moment relief fills his eyes but then they sharpen at the sight of your forearms—crescent shapes digging into your skin. “What the—”

“I did it,” you hastily mumble, returning your arms to where they were before, easily slipping your nails into the shapes they left behind. “Bad habit.” He sighs softly and removes your hands from your forearms, gently rubbing at the spots with his thumbs, and you relax at the touch. “What are—what are you doing here?” 

“I got worried,” he says, lowering his head as if to get a better view of your eyes under the bill of his hat. “I heard the yelling and—“ Shit! 

You tightly clench your eyes and hang your head, berating yourself for allowing him to worry. “I’m so sorry! I completely forgot to call you back!”

He breathes in and smiles lopsidedly as you meet his gaze, warily and sheepishly. “It’s fine. I’m just glad you’re okay.” His warmth leaves your arms, gaze moving from you to the cop car. A frown replaces his smile as he glares in that direction. “Is he—“

There’s a bubbling in your stomach, breath catching in your throat and a deep fear beginning to surface as Steve takes a step away from you. Without thinking, without realizing it, you’ve latched onto the hem of his grey v-neck, immobilizing him completely as he turns to look at you. “Don’t leave. Please.”

You can’t meet his gaze, you try; lifting it, but immediately hanging your head once more when they come to a stop at his chin. “Please.”

His chest rises and falls deeply. “Hey,” he starts softly, his warm, heavy hands falling onto your shoulder and pulling you into him. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here, sweetheart. I’m right here.”

You press your face against his chest and quiet down the sob that escapes your lips.

“I’m right here,” he repeats softly, an arm wrapping around your back and the other slipping behind your neck, pressing you closer to him—and god you’ve never felt more thankful to have someone like him in your life. Someone who can hold you and look after you. “You did so good, baby. You were so brave. ‘M so proud of you,” he whispers into your hair, and you sniffle in response. “It’s okay to let it all out now. I’m right here for you.”

Your hold on his shirt tightens and you breathe him in, the smell of sandalwood, detergent and clean clothes filling your senses. “I just need a minute,” you mumble.

Something soft pressed against your head—a kiss, a soft kiss. “Take all the time you need.”

Frustration is all you can feel as you walk around Queens looking for an affordable, vacant apartment. 

Esmeralda follows behind you dutifully, hands shoved into her pockets and barely holding back a grimace. Maybe you should’ve asked her to stay home, invite over Peter and the others to distract her. 

You both had tried fixing the door, changed the hinges, but the actual door? With another attack, the chance of the door breaking in half is highly likely. Your landlord doesn’t exactly use thick, sturdy doors, preferring the thinner less reliable models because it’s more cost efficient. And you’d think because it was cheaper, he’d get off his ass and replace the damn door, but getting him to do anything is like trying to tame a bull. And you can’t even buy the damn door yourself because then your stupid landlord will throw a fit and try to kick you out for fixing his damn apartment!

When you brought up the prospect of moving, Esmeralda had jumped at the chance, agreeing that there had to be someplace in Queens you can afford! Your mom was more reluctant, and unsure, but after a wave of optimism from Esmeralda, she had relented.

And that’s how you and Esmeralda find yourselves outside of another building with high rent. What was this? The tenth place you couldn’t afford? Another place that wasn’t even sure running your credit was worth it?

“Why is everything so expensive?” She finally breaks her silence and you pause in your steps to look at her.

“Hey, we just gotta keep looking. I’m sure there’s a place out there that we can afford.”

“Yeah,” she says with a snort. “With the same shit heads we’re already surrounded by.”

You can’t bring yourself to scold her. You’ve had those thoughts, too, but you’ve always caught yourself before your thoughts could get worse. Because it isn’t fair, not to the people who have been nothing but good and kind to you, and not to your mother who has tried her best to give you everything she could. “Esme,” you start slowly and she grimaces.

“I—I didn’t mean it like that. I meant—I’m just tired.”

“I know, baby.” You approach her slowly, like one would with a small, frightened kitty, and take her hand in yours. ”Let's call it quits today and go home. We can stop by a bodega and get ingredients for those chicken enchiladas you love so much?”

“With queso fresco?” she shyly asks, her earlier frustration melting and showcasing that joyful youth that is rare to see in her.

“With queso fresco,” you promise, the two of you walking with your hands laced together like when you were children walking home from school.

The three of you stuff yourselves until you can’t eat anymore and even make sure to feed Doña Garcia and Benito as a thank you.

When you pack yourself a lunch for your break, your sister whines that you’re stealing her leftovers, but you only stick out your tongue and place it into your bag—all the while hoping Steve will like it.

The bar is alive with soft chatter and noise; Cassandra is behind the bar with a coworker and new hire you’ve been helping train. You clocked out five minutes ago, but you find yourself occupying the booth in the dark corner, watching Steve as he takes a forkful of the enchiladas you made earlier with Esme straight out of the Tupperware.

His mouth closes around the fork and his eyes close, letting out a sinful moan as he slowly pulls the fork out of his mouth and chews.

“Good?” you ask when his eyes flutter open to reveal brilliant blue eyes.

“So good,” he affirms. “Really good.” His lips form into a teasing smirk. “You sure you made these, sweetheart?”

“Hey!” Reaching over the table, you smack his arm with a pout and he bubbles in laughter. “Gimme that, you don’t deserve the rest of these—“

With the quickest reflexes you’ve ever seen, Steve pulls the plastic container away from your reach and beside his being where you can’t grab it unless you round the table. “It was a joke, sweetheart. Promise.”

You let out a mock of a huff, fighting off the smile that’s trying to work it’s way to your lips. “It better be.”

He chuckles and takes another bite, moaning and humming as he goes, practically cleaning out the dish. Watching him devour the whole thing causes pride to swell in your chest.

Resting your elbow on the table, you cradle your cheek. “I probably should’ve brought you more, huh?”

“I’d probably be able to eat a whole tray of these.” You believe him.

“You’d probably have to fight Esme for it.” He laughs and you grin. “But I’ll keep that in mind.” For next time, are the unspoken words. Because there will be a next time and you’re looking forward to it. Is he?

He pauses, eyes skipping up at you and softening as they roam your face for a moment too long, your breaths stalling until he finally says: “I’d like that.”

You breathe out and smile. “Good.”

He flashes you a toothy grin. “How has the apartment hunting been?” Whatever Steve sees in your face causes him to place down the fork and reach for your unoccupied hand. “That bad?”

“Yeah,” you say with a sigh. “Rent has really skyrocketed over the years. I’ll probably have to rescind my resignation from the restaurant at this point.”

“Let me help you,” he says with a  squeeze of your hand. 

“Steve—“

Before you can tell him he’s done enough, he interrupts you, thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand. “My job is to make your life easier, remember? If helping you find an apartment and helping pay rent does that, then I’m willing to do just that.”

You purse your lips, eyebrows drawing together as you think about it. “You really have done too much, Steve. I feel like I haven’t done enough—“

“Are you kidding me? Just knowing I have you, that I can be able to call you after a mission—all of that has done wonders for me sweetheart.” Your breath hitches at his confession and you can’t help the heart that crawls up your neck. “If it really bothers you that much, why won’t you be my date for the upcoming charity gala Pepper and Tony are hosting at the tower?”

He knows that’s part of your agreement! If he needs a date, you’ll be there. Why is he giving you more than you can give? “That’s a given, Steve.” You bite your lip. “Just promise me you won’t go over the top? Even if it’s just a one bedroom apartment in a moderately safe area, I’d be okay.”

He didn’t go over the top, but my god did he almost. 

The place he found, not only is it close to May and Peter’s place, but it’s also close to your mom’s clinic. No more having to pay ridiculous prices during rush hour for an uber or cab, no more having to worry about something happening to Esme or your mom on the subways or walking home.

No more.

Your eyes scan the front of the house; it’s light blue, cute with a small patio where a lemon tree is growing, a few specks of yellow showing on the top of it and your heart drops to your stomach only to fly back up and smack itself against your rib cage—it reminds you so much of your childhood home. Your small little home with blue coated walls and yellow window panes that you and JC hated so much because it clashed with the dark blue exterior—“it gives the house personality” your parents would say.

“Steve…”

He smiles down at you, taking your hand in his and pulling you with him. “Come with me.” Pushing open the small white gate, he gently tugs you along with him up the three steps leading you to the front door. He slowly inserts the key and opens the door, and moves aside, allowing you to enter first.

Your hand never leaves his as you enter and he follows after you, not allowing his fingers to slip away from yours. 

“Welcome home,” he murmurs, and you don’t have to look at him to know he’s smiling.

You stifle a sob trying to push through your throat, eyes taking in the beautiful, newly renovated home—wooden flooring, fresh painted walls, gorgeous L shaped stairs leading upstairs—and you have to blink to will the tears away. You turn to Steve and find him already looking at you, gauging your reaction, and he looks so soft and proud and happy and—and, god you want to kiss him. 

So you do.

You kiss him softly, slowly, tentatively and unsure, and every other synonym of those words. He’s frozen under your touch, completely unaware of what to do, and your heart stutters. Too soon? As you begin pulling away, his hand leaves yours to wrap around your waist and tug you impossibly snug against him, his lips landing on yours for another take—one you gladly accept.

Your arms wrap around his neck, bringing him down closer to you and one of his hands cradle the back of your neck, fingers digging into your skin

He tastes so so sweet—sweet like juicy strawberries straight from their bush during a warm, Spring day.

And you don’t think you’ll ever get enough. God, why did you take so long to do this?

His forehead rests against yours and one corner of his mouth lifts into a confident, boyish smile. “I guess that means you like it?”

Laughter bubbles out of your throat and you nod. “Like it? I love it. More than you can ever know. Thank you.”

The hand on the back of your neck, smoothly cups your jaw as he lets out a sweet sigh. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

His lips dance against yours and his warmth wraps around you, and you know you’ve found something with Steve, something that you can’t quite put into words, something you don’t know if you want to put into words.

Not yet.

A couple of days later, you’re settling everything with your old landlord and moving into your new home. Your mother couldn’t believe it and neither could Esmeralda, but once you told—lied to, really—them that Selena found an old friend of hers that was renting their home because they were leaving out of state, your mother and sister accepted the keys you dangled in front of them.

May and Peter immediately offered their help; Doña Garcia and Benito did too; and so did Cassandra and a few of your coworkers from the bar. Steve tried to offer his help, too, but you waved him off, promising to let him know when you were completely moved in. He begrudgingly accepted, not like he had a choice. He was sent on another mission during that period of time. You miss him, and even though you know he couldn’t check his phone, you send a message everyday with your move-in progress.

Esmeralda throws herself onto the sofa as your mom hums in the kitchen, and you can’t help but send Steve the selfie you took with Esme and your mom when the living room was completely furnished.

A smile blooms on your face as a text bubble appears and your finger smooths over your lips, strawberry lingers on your lips and as you read his message, you want to taste him again.

You look beautiful, sweetheart—all three of you do.

Can’t wait to see that beautiful smile of yours in person soon xx

next

[lemonsandstrawberries]

A (not) Special Day

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony), MCU, imagine Avengers 2012

summary: Tony and Steve became a couple not so long ago and came a day, that started as every day in Steve's dating life with Tony Stark, but the more it progressed, the weirder it became, almost as if the universe was hiding something from him... Meaning, it is Tony's birthday and everyone knows except Steve.

length: 2 513

a/n:  yes, I posted yesterday already a happy birthday fic for Tony, but felt inspired and wrote another one. so, once again, Happy Birthday, Tony! Hope you will like the fic and as always, feedback, reblogs and likes are appreciated and needed!

——————–

A (not) Special Day

"Sooo... Any plans for today?"

Steve looked over his shoulder, hearing the question. It was a regular question but said in that sing a song way as if suggesting something and the way Clint had put his elbows on the table and leaned in, eyebrows raised expectantly just added to the mystery. And Steve had no clue what that was about.

"Uh. No, not really," Steve answered, cracking some eggs into a bowl and adding milk, not measuring it, just eyeballing. Pancakes for breakfast. That was his nearest plan.

"Wait... You didn't make any plans?"

"Why should I make any plans?" Steve asked back, adding melted butter into the mix, before leaving the bowl on the counter and taking flour from the cabinet, digging through boxes of cereals and pop tarts. There was not a single kid in the Avengers Tower, but the content of the cabinet told a different story.

"So, you don't know that-"

"Morning, handsome!"

Clint immediately zipped his mouth shut, when Tony waltzed into the kitchen. In black tank top, drawstrings pants, still ruffled from sleep. Tony Stark in his most natural state. Steve puffed out his cheek for a good morning kiss, and Tony pressed his lips into the soft skin, his stubble leaving a light scratch behind.

"Hi, babe. Clint, you were saying?" Steve turned his head to look at the archer, just in time to see the stumped expression on Clint's face, and Tony's gentle bewilderment. Something didn't add up.

"Uh, nothing," Clint said quickly, focusing on his bowl of multicolored cereals and small marshmallows. A perfectly balanced breakfast.

"You are making breakfast for me?" Tony turned to Steve, smiling brightly.

Steve felt suspicious for a second longer but decided to let the topic go, seeing that Tony didn't dwell on it either. Oh, well, probably it wasn't anything important.

"Actually, I am making it just for myself," Steve teased, adding flour into the mix of eggs and milk.

"Ouch, harsh," Tony narrowed his eyes, scoffing playfully. "Didn't know you were so selfish."

"That's not what you said last night," Steve pointed out with a smile, going on with the banter. Behind their backs, Clint made some gagging sound.

"And that's my cue to go," Clint said, taking his empty bowl and spoon, and put it into the dishwasher. Before he could walk out of the kitchen, his eyes lingered on Tony, and after some hesitation, he reached his hand in brunet's direction as if to pat him on the arm, but instead pulled him into a hug in the last second.

"Uhhh," Tony smiled awkwardly, hugging Clint back and patting his back, "thanks," he said. Clint moved away from the hug and nodded to Tony doing some thoughtful face, and walked out of the kitchen.

Okay, that definitely was suspicious.

"What was that about?" Steve asked when he and Tony were left alone.

"Jealous?" Tony asked, smiling happily. One look at Steve's face and it was clear that it wasn't jealousy, just a heck lot of confusion. "I don't know. Maybe he fell into a dumpster again and bashed his head?"

Steve thinned his lips, muttering a concerned 'hmph'. Seemed that the whole team needed another 'safety during world saving' kind of talk.

"Coming back to that breakfast... You are seriously not going to include me?"

Steve blinked, hearing the complaint. He looked at his boyfriend and saw Tony giving him an extra pleading look as if he didn't eat for days. Which for sure wasn't the case, because Steve made sure that Tony ate regularly, and on most of the days, Tony was pretty good of keeping track of his meals. Food was too good to skip.

"You mix, I fry?" Steve smiled, handing Tony a whisk. Teamwork at its finest.

Tony groaned in disappointment, finding the hour too early to be useful. But fine, he would comply. "I am adding chocolate chips though," Tony said, dipping the whisk in and carefully mixing before he would go faster and try not to splatter the batter everywhere.

"Fine with me," Steve took a step back, and sat at the table, just appreciating the view, because the faster Tony mixed, the more he wiggled his butt, something Tony wasn't aware of, but Steve knew and found very attractive.

***

"Steve, let's get hot-dogs!"

"Sure," Steve agreed, taking a stroll with Tony around the park, seeing the cart in the distance. It was a calm, sunny day, the air was crisp and Tony looked very elegant in navy blue coat paired with some slacks and sport shoes, giving it a casual look. Steve didn't look too shabby either, in a faux leather jacket in brown color, jeans, and a white shirt. Wherever they went, the superhusbands couple, as the press named them, was always attracting attention, but this day differed from others. Meaning, they attracted even more attention. Especially Tony. During their walk, Tony already heard a couple of 'yeah, Iron Man!' which made him smile and wave to whoever shouted it, and while it was sweet, Steve couldn't help to think that everyone around him knew something he didn't.

"Steve, what topping you want?"

"Oh," Steve blinked, too deep in his thoughts to notice that they reached the hot-dog cart, "um, mustard and ketchup, please," he said to the mustached man running the cart.

"Traditionalist," Tony complained about Steve's basic choice and started placing his order, enlisting almost every topping and sauce available.

"Please give him extra napkins. Or a bib," Steve said to the seller, and the guy laughed friendly, while Tony scoffed and playfully pushed at Steve's shoulder.

Maybe he was just being paranoid. People always talked about him and Tony and today was no different. Tony thanked for the hot-dogs and paid, and they resumed walking. Steve held his regular looking hot-dog, while Tony measured every bite, trying to get all the avocado, salsa and sliced jalapeños in his mouth, without getting it all over his clothes, while still holding hands with Steve and watching it, Steve felt somehow calm and happy. Being with Tony really made him happy.

"You seriously need a bib," Steve pointed out in good humor, biting his hot-dog and observing Tony struggle with his food and failed attempts to eat neatly.

***

"Babe..."

"Hm?"

"Don't you think it was kinda weird today?"

"What, why?" Tony leaned against Steve's bare chest, rubbing hand cream over his hands. All the work with heavy machinery and different machine oils and greases was drying his skin and Tony used to rub a ridiculous amount of moisturizing cream into his hands each time before going to sleep.

"I don't know," Steve frowned, lifting his arm so Tony could fit better into him. He pulled the covers over them and sunk into the bed, making himself more comfortable. Overall, it was a nice day, just something felt odd. "People kept staring at us."

"People always stare at us," Tony smiled patiently. That wasn't anything new, and Tony thought that Steve already got used to their public status.

"Yeah, but - it was different today," Steve thought out loud, stroking Tony's arm with his thumb. Usually, people flocked to them, trying to initiate small talk, ask for autographs. Today, it was only staring. As if everyone made some silent agreement to give them some privacy, while just observing. It was eerier than openly going crazy over them. "You even got donuts for free," Steve pointed out.

"Yeah," Tony laughed, sounding embarrassed. After they had eaten hot-dogs, Tony had a craving for something sweet and talked Steve into visiting his favorite donut place. He was a regular and usually his order was prepared even before he had placed it and today a smiley girl handed him a box, saying that it was on the house. Tony had a rule of not accepting free stuff, but the smiley girl, who turned out to be the manager, insisted. Begrudgingly, Tony had agreed, not to cause a scene, but had left a generous tip, which was more than enough to cover three boxes of donuts. "I kinda feel bad about it. But the donuts were good, right?"

"Yeah, they were," Steve agreed, not quite satisfied with the answer. The day was ending, and he still had more questions than answers.

"Alright, I see that's something is bothering you. And you know what is good for that?"

If Steve had hope for some explanations, he was quickly proven wrong, once Tony rolled on his side and put a leg over Steve's thighs, straddling him. Warm hands resting on his chest and Tony moved in closer, evoking some heat in lower parts of Steve's body.

If he couldn't get any answers, it was the best way to silence his brain.

Until Tony's overly moisturized hands slipped on his skin, and Tony instead of leaning in intimately, fell forward, headbonking their foreheads and temporarily blinding Steve with pain, while both screamed.

"Ow," Tony rolled down, massaging his forehead, "okay, that wasn't how I planned it," he admitted, hissing the words out.

Steve shook his head, getting the shocked feeling out of his system. He growled and threw himself over Tony, who squeaked in self-defense and started laughing, laughing some more until Steve kissed him quiet, planning to make his boyfriend loud again later.

And it was sweet again.

***

The mystery resolved itself the next day when a colorful cover of a magazine got in Steve's line of sight while he had been standing in a queue to the cash register in his regular supermarket. It was one of those gossiping magazines, ones Steve usually paid no mind, but the photo on the cover was of him and Tony and it was a recent one, snapped yesterday. The headline, written in bold letters, sounded absurd at first, but the more Steve focused on it, the more it made sense and he felt as if someone dumped a bucket of ice-cold water on him. He had grabbed the magazine, paid for the groceries, and hurried out, different feelings brewing in him and making his steps heavier.

Shock. Anger. Betrayal.

"Why didn't you tell me?!"

Tony's shoulders jumped when a colorful magazine fell on his lap, covering his tablet and interrupting his work time back in the Avengers Tower. He quickly scanned the covers, seeing himself and Steve, holding hands and walking down the sidewalk, chatting and smiling at each other, Tony holding a paper bag with the box of free donuts. It wasn't the worst picture, they both looked happy and in love, but it was when Tony saw the headline and understood the snappy tone.

'Tony Stark celebrating his birthday with Captain America on the streets of New York'.

Exclusive material. Of course.

Tony carefully lifted his eyes, meeting Steve's judging look. The way Steve crossed his arms below his chest and furrowed his eyebrows made him look intimidating but also pronounced his biceps and chest and the clenched teeth gave nice definition to his jawline. Unfairly attractive.

"I didn't think it was a big deal," Tony blurted out, feeling only minimally sorry. For him, birthday wasn't that grand. True, back in the days, he liked to throw big parties, but since he joined the Avengers, calm days were rare, and he was happy to spent his birthday calmly, just with Steve.

"Not a big -" Steve raised his voice, stopping himself on time, when Tony cocked his head to the side, sending his boyfriend a quizzical look. With a sigh, Steve closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I wish you had told me," Steve admitted, more mad at himself than at Tony. Definitely more mad at himself. How he could not know that it had been his boyfriend's birthday? He saw Tony's SHIELD file and his birth date was right there, in front of his nose, how he could skip it? He was supposed to have a photographic memory and even memorized Tony's social security number, which was the easiest combination of numbers in the world and it was a true puzzle how someone as intelligent as Tony couldn't remember the combination of nine digits.

"Baby, it's fine-"

"No, Tony it's - It was your first birthday since we started dating and we didn't even do anything special," Steve continued, frustration and embarrassment clear in his voice.

"Well, if that counts, I think yesterday was pretty great."

"You do?" Steve opened his eyes, seeing Tony smiling warmly at him.

"Yeah. We ate breakfast together, went for a walk, got hot-dogs and donuts, and had sex," Tony listed, counting on his fingers and showing five of them, "that hits every mark of great birthday in my notebook."

Steve's eyes softened. It was a relief to hear that Tony saw yesterday like that, but Steve still felt that they could do something better and more memorable. But as long as his boyfriend was happy...

"You just didn't tell me, because you didn't want me to have my revenge," Steve pointed out in humor, feeling relieved about his screw up and sat on the couch next to his boyfriend.

"Revenge?"

"For my birthday. You hired two girls in Captain America USO girl's costumes to follow me around and sing 'The Star-Spangled Man with a Plan' for the whole day."

Tony laughed, remembering that day well and how embarrassed Steve had tried to lose the girls, who were surprisingly fast on their high heels. They had even followed Steve to the bathroom, singing their hearts out in front of the closed door, something Tony had to pay extra for.

"They were two actresses in training and did a great job. I am sure that it boosted their CVs," Tony giggled, unbothered by Steve's unamused look. "Besides, what revenge? We were not dating back then!"

"Oh, so you think that I forgave you all the things you did to me just because we are dating now?" Steve asked, lips curling into a smile.

"I thought that since you started to find me pretty, I got a clean slate," Tony smiled, sounding smug.

"I found you pretty back then too. Pretty annoying!" Steve summed up before Tony could get too smug. There were no hurt feelings, just Tony bursting into laughter again. One of the prettiest sounds in Steve's opinion. "Hey," Steve took his boyfriend's hand, trying to get Tony's attention and end the laughing fit. "Can I at least wish you a happy birthday now?" he asked. It was delayed, but Steve really would like to do that.

"Sure," Tony smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. To make it sweeter, Steve moved in closer and cupped Tony's chin, locking their lips in a delicate kiss. Sweet and simple and full of love.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart," Steve whispered when the kiss ended, looking into Tony's brown eyes with all adoration he had for his man.

Tony smiled, eyes and nose scrunching with the movement, his face having that happy, soft glow that showed on Tony's face only during special moments. "Thank you," Tony said, going in for more kisses.

[et-lesailes]

wildest dreams // rhee’s 1k celebration

details on rhee’s 1k celebration ! SPOTS STILL OPEN !

pairing: steve rogers x ghost!reader (? kind of?)

word count: 2010

summary: the battle with thanos has ended and all the long lost loved ones have returned to their respectful homes; however, steve has lost you, his beloved girlfriend, in the process. throughout his months of mourning, you still show up in his dreams, though this particular one seems the most eerie.

themes: mentions of death, sad boi hours to the max.

taglist: @viarogers , @evanstush , @chibi-crazy ,  @pining-and-tired , @songforhema, @sebabestianstan101 , @tanyam93 , @bval-1, @wonderwinchester , @little-miss-exo, @poerebel , @gogomez-509 , @patzammit, @a-distantdreamer, @malthestorytellerblog, @rainbowkisses31, @jbug491writinghelp, @melannie77, @gigistorm, @lille-kattunge, @teller258316, @rohaintahquil, @deidrashouseofpain, @firstangeldragonranch, @peach-acid, @allsortsofinterests​, @xoxabs88xox​, @heyiamthatbitch, @cptn-sgrogers, @heyyouwiththeassbutt​, @bangtan-serendipity​, @troublermalik​, @beardburnsupersoldiers​, @captainscanadian​, @rumoured-whispers​, @lemonster120​, @puddlejoy​

** if you have asked to be on my taglist and don’t see your name here, please let me know! i lost the note i had with all the urls and so everything’s been a bit messed up lately, my apologies!

note: submitted by @navispalace​. tbh this one was a challenge for me because i usually avoid writing sad things but it was a good challenge at the same time. i’ve never written something like this before so i hope it’s okay!

GIF:

It had been nearly five months now.

Five months since Steve had lost you, the love of his life, the woman he was supposed to marry and have kids with one day. Everyone was enjoying their time with their newly returned loved ones now that Thanos’ snap had been reversed for good, but Steve could never be reunited with you--- no, you had sacrificed yourself in order to save the world, and you were gone. Permanently.

He had been tempted to use the Pym particles to go back to a timeline where you were still alive. Before everything happened, before Thanos happened. But Bruce had warned him that it was too complicated, too risky. Natasha had reminded him of everything he had preached after the snap. He had held group sessions for God’s sake, telling people that they needed to learn to move on. He knew he would be a hypocrite and unfair if he simply ran away back to the past to be with you, especially when other people did not get such a luxury. But God, it was difficult. Life was difficult. Waking up to no familiar body beside him, the other side of the bed completely untouched. Seeing something that reminded him of you, making him smile and immediately pull his phone out to tell you-- and then remembering you were not there. The apartment being so damn quiet, no longer filled with your contagious laughter or cheesy jokes. No one to sit in comfortable silence with, no one to talk to about his day, no one to touch. No one to care for. Sure, he had the other Avengers as his friends, but obviously, this was not the same as a girlfriend.

The simultaneous best and worst part was that he still saw you in his dreams. Very vividly. He had literal conversations with you in these dreams, ones so real and eerie that he woke up wondering if you were actually dead. Loki had resurrected God knows how many times-- could there be hope for you, in this messed up world of magical stones and alternate timelines? Though the second he’d have these thoughts, he’d force himself to push them away. He couldn’t live with this much hope. It would only crush him even more. 

He took sleeping pills every night. Even if he was already dead tired. The thought of having to lie awake for even a minute, stuck with nothing but thoughts of you would send him into chronic depression. Bruce had quite literally made these pills for him in his lab, due to the fact that normal ones would not work because of the serum. Perhaps these pills had to do with the reason he had these dreams, but he was too scared to stop taking them. He just wanted this pain gone, and yet dreamland only seemed to make it worse in the long run.

Tonight’s dream took place in quite a random location. A diner. A very familiar one, Steve realized, as he looked around. He suddenly felt a presence directly behind him. Upon turning around, he saw you there, adorned in a beautiful lacy white dress. Steve now remembered why he knew this place. But why were you here? You hadn’t even been born yet, your parents probably hadn’t even been born yet. 

“Y/N. What are we doing here?” he asked quietly. As if you controlled this. He had no idea who controlled this, but he wished they would give him a moment of peace. You gave him a smile, a beautiful one he remembered so well-- one he was paranoid would eventually slip from his mind as each day went on. “I only got to meet you after you were melted from the ice.” You murmured, stepping closer to him, the white dress and light aura about you making you seem almost like some type of angel. “But I know I would have fallen in love with this Steve too, and I wanted you to know that.”

You lifted a delicate hand, gesturing to the nearest booth. Steve swore nobody had been sitting there moments ago, but as he looked now, he saw a figure he would never imagine he’d see again, unless in a very old photo. There sat a scrawny, pre-serum Steve Rogers, with his best friend Bucky Barnes sitting directly across. “Oh, these ladies, Steve, they’re somethin’ else. This one’s perfect for you, she’ll love ya, buddy. You got nothin’ to worry about.” Present day Steve couldn’t help but roll his eyes, though unable to help but feel a nostalgic fondness for Bucky’s obsession with double dating during this time period. He remembered this date, and he very much remembered that this girl certainly did not love him. Like all of the other double dates, the one meant to be Steve’s girl simply had her eyes on Bucky the whole time. It appeared the duo could not see you or him, though, and that was probably for the best. He could only imagine how pre-serum Steve would react seeing a girl as beautiful and ethereal as you. 

“Do we have to be watching this right now? Because you’re only going to feel secondhand embarrassment the whole time.” He told you with a flicker of amusement in his eyes, and you let out a laugh that made him want to smile and cry at the same time. “You know why I love you so much, Steve?” you questioned, turning to face him and stepping closer. “Because you’ve always been so confident about who you are, even before you became Captain America. Even now, you may be making fun of your past self but I can see that you still see him as a part of you. That kind heart, that determination, that loyalty…” you paused, looking to past Steve with a smile before looking to present day Steve, standing on tiptoes to give his cheek a light kiss. It felt like something light and feathery, not completely tangible yet just tangible enough for his heart to leap out of his chest. “You don’t change for anyone. You’re unapologetically you.” 

He gulped, tears beginning to sting at his eyes. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t have anyone to be me with. I could only be me when I was with you.” You frowned and gently held his face, and he couldn’t help but let a tear slip. “That’s not true, Steve, and you know it. I’m not the reason for the wonderful man you are. You were always that by yourself. And that’s why I fell in love.” He was crying now, arms suddenly wrapping around you to pull you close to him. “Come back to me,” he muttered pathetically through his tears, fully aware that this was much more embarrassing than the diner scene, but he didn’t care. He felt your arms around him in return, the aromatic smell of your soft hair under his nose. “I’m with you, Steve. I promise.” 

When he pulled back, he looked around in confusion. The two of you were standing on the battlefield, the very one where you had been killed. This time, however, there was no Thanos, no merciless army, no Avengers, even. It was simply the two of you, surrounded by destruction and flames. He looked to you and you were wearing your battle gear, suited up with not a single flaw or blemish. If only you had stayed that way on that fateful day. 

“This was the only way, my love,” you whispered, stepping closer to him again. “But I promise you’ll move on. You’ll be happy. Please don’t ever give up on being happy.” He frowned, slowly reaching out to caress your cheek. “I… I’ll try.” He spoke deeply, his cheeks damp from his tears. “But…” he trailed off, looking down at the ground for a few moments before looking up at you. “I can’t keep seeing you. It’s too hard for me. I-- please, Y/N, you have to stop.” 

You blinked in shock before your face fell, and he immediately felt bad. “You’re right. I understand,” you whispered, and you sounded so heartbroken, he wanted to take it all back. Before he could say anything else, however, the scenery around him changed. His heart hurt even more than before as he recognized the small cafe nestled in the boroughs of New York City; the location of your first date. As he looked to the very same table the two of you had sat at, there you were, adorned in the same outfit. Pretty floral dress, sandals, nothing too extravagant and yet you looked like a goddess. He slowly came to sit in front of you. 

“Our first and last date,” you murmured, and his eyes widened slightly, more tears sliding down his slightly flushed cheeks. “Why.. why are you doing this, Y/N? It’s torture, I can’t take it.” You reached out and held his hands, smiling sadly. “I’m not the one doing this, baby. You are. You keep bringing me here. This is your dream, these are all the places and conversations you keep thinking about.” You brought his hand to your lips, kissing it lovingly. “You keep thinking about the past, Steve. It’s time to think about your future. I love you so, so much, and that’s why I want you to move on. It won’t be easy, but I believe you can do it.” He sniffed, unable to help it. “The diner…? I don’t get it, why am I dreaming of that?” he asked, perhaps trying to stall, getting an eerie sense that this moment would be over soon. You smiled and leaned forward, pressing another soft kiss to his cheek. “You’ll figure it out.” You whispered, looking up into his eyes for a few moments before standing up.

“I had a great time, Steve.” You spoke as if it was your first date, sending chills up his spine. “Thank you. For everything.” 

He woke up with a start. His face was practically soaked from all of his tears. As he looked towards your side of the bed, he only started to cry more upon seeing the untouched sheets. He got up from bed, grabbing his leather jacket and tossing it on along with a pair of jeans and his favorite baseball cap. It was around five in the morning, still well before sunrise. He ran outside and jumped onto his motorcycle, heading straight for the diner. He hadn’t been to that part of New York in God knows how long, he had no idea what to expect. He wasn’t even sure why he was doing this. It was a dream, for all he knew, it was all nonsensical and pointless. But as he thought about how vivid and real you and your kisses felt, he decided this was worth looking into. 

When he got there, he almost crashed into a damn lamppost from how shocked he was.

He hadn’t remembered the original name of the diner, but now, in big letters, a sign hanging overhead proudly stated, “Y/N’s.” He abruptly parked and dashed inside, staring at the menus and napkins on the counter personalized with the same label, the name of the love of his life. As he adjusted his cap to hide his face more, the lady behind the counter arched an eyebrow, looking to him. “Just one, sir?”

He stared at her for a few moments, a million questions running through his mind. He wanted to ask all of them, but for some reason, his instinct told him to go with it. To accept it, to have peace with it, to have somewhere to celebrate and cherish your memory. Perhaps it was you telling him all of this.

“Y-Yes. Just one. Outside, please.”

She guided him to a table outside, leaving him with a menu before returning inside. As he looked out into the distance, the sun now up and the morning just beginning, he felt the tears run down again, unable to help but think of how much you would like this place.

[thatfanficstuff]

The Light in my Darkness - 19

Pairing: Clint Barton x Reader

Warnings: um...nope

***

Despite Clint’s concerns about the amount of time the two of you were spending together, nothing changed. If anything, you only became more inseparable. Granted, the two of you were busy in your own lives. You were preparing for your show and Clint was working on his project with Nick so you had less time than before, but what you did have was spent together.

One day a few weeks after your midterm, the weather had taken a warm turn. It felt like spring and everyone was taking full advantage of the change to soak up the sun and the warmth while they could. It had been a few days since Clint had any contact with you apart from texts and phone calls and he grew restless sitting at his desk watching the time pass.

Deciding he wasn’t getting anything done anyway, he left the office and headed home to grab his bike. By his calculations, he had just enough time to change and get to the school to pick you up after your last class.

Arriving with a couple of minutes to spare, he pulled up to the curb and turned off the bike while he waited for you to emerge. The day was cool enough he could leave his helmet and gloves in place since the two of you would be taking off soon enough. It wasn’t much later when he saw you come out in a group with several other students. 

You were walking arm and arm with a girl he’d never seen before. The two of you were apparently in deep conversation if the way your heads were tilted together was any indication. One of the guys in the group grabbed your arm to get your attention. Clint straightened as you shoved the guy away from you without even glancing in his direction.

Undeterred, the asshole slid closer and placed his arm around your shoulder. Clint started to climb off the bike but stopped when your head snapped over to glare at the kid in question. He had no idea what you were saying, but he chuckled as the interloper put his hands up in a placating gesture and backed away from you. He grabbed the rest of his little friends and they headed in a different direction. Good. The more distance between him and you the better.

Once Clint was certain the boys were going to continue to leave you alone, he turned his attention back to you. You waved at your friend as you finished your conversation and then headed straight for him with a wide smile.

“Hello, handsome,” you greeted and flipped the visor up so you could steal a kiss.

Clint frowned. “How did you know it was me?”

You rolled your eyes and moved behind him to pull your helmet out of the back. “You on this bike in your gear is a sight I’m not likely to forget anytime soon. Trust me. It’s been implanted in my brain since the first time I saw it in 9th grade.”

The corner of his mouth curled up in a satisfied smirk. You took your seat behind him and he looked over his shoulder. “You make me feel like a dirty old man when you say stuff like that.”

You laughed as you wrapped your arms around him. “You are a dirty old man, Mr. Barton.”

He growled and started the bike. You laid your head against his back and tightened your grip as he pulled away from the curb.

***

Unfortunately, you and Clint hadn’t gotten to spend much time together despite him taking off work early. You had a meeting with Steve that evening to go over your pieces for the show. You’d asked him if he wanted to come with you but that was your accomplishment and you could damn sure take care of it without him.

He’d settled for having dinner with you and left just as Scott arrived to drive you to the gallery. His mind wandered as he rode and he soon found himself driving the opposite direction of his home. The house he pulled up in front of was simple but stylish. Just like the woman that owned it.

Clint knocked on the red front door and was not the least surprised when it was answered by Bucky Barnes. Clint smiled and held out a hand. “Hey, Buck. How’s things?”

“Better than ever, Barton. Come on in.”

Clint knew his way around the house but waited for Bucky to shut and lock the door so he could follow him. This was as much Bucky’s house now as it was Nat’s and Clint wasn’t comfortable enough to make himself at home in Bucky’s house.

“Nat didn’t mention you were stopping by.” There was no condemnation in the other man’s tone. Just a simple statement of fact.

“It wasn’t exactly planned.”

Bucky hummed and opened a door to the left. “In that case, why don’t you make yourself at home in the library. Nat keeps your liquor in the bottom right drawer of the desk now. Stark drank it all last time he was here.”

Clint laughed and made a beeline for that drawer. He poured a glass for himself and one for Nat. After a brief hesitation, he poured one for Bucky as well. Maybe he should get his opinion on all this as well. Nat had already told him she had no secrets from Bucky so he probably already knew all about Clint’s fucked up dating life.

It wasn’t long before Nat came into the room drying her hair with a towel. “Something wrong, Clint?”

He shook his head. “Not like you’re thinking.”

Bucky nodded once at that and started to leave after deciding his presence wasn’t required.

“I’d appreciate your input on this as well, Bucky,” Clint called, stopping him.

The other man looked between Clint and Nat in surprise before shrugging one shoulder and moving into the room. He grinned at the already prepared drink and took a seat in an empty chair.

“All right, what’s going on?” Nat prodded when he’d been quiet for too long. She never had the patience for delaying what needed to be said.

Clint licked his lips. “Y/N.”

She leaned forward. “You didn’t dump her, did you?”

He frowned. “No.”

“Thank fuck.” She slumped back in her chair. “Then what’s the problem?”

“I’m starting to think maybe I should end this.”

Bucky’s eyes went wide and he slid over to put a bit more space between him and Nat.

“Why are you cowering away?” Clint asked.

“I’m not cowering. I’m just making some room in case she explodes. She likes this one.”

Clint’s gaze found Natasha’s. “What do you mean you like her? You know that’s not what this is. You know how this works.”

She pursed her lips and took a deep breath. Finally, she nodded once as if coming to a decision. “No, Clint. I know how this used to work. But this, what you have with Y/N, is nothing like what you’ve had before and you know it.”

He shook his head. “That’s not true.”

She huffed a laugh. “You have always gone out of your way to pick women you have no interest in. I would call them eye candy, but I don’t think you were even attracted to them on that level. They were just a body to fill a position. But you’ve liked Y/N for years.” He started to protest and Nat held up a finger to cut him off. “You can deny all you want, Barton, but you talk about her almost as much as Wanda. And the comments you made about her appearance at the few events she would attend were not fatherly so don’t give me that either.”

He sighed, knowing she was right. “Fine. So, I took advantage of an opportunity to make the relationship more intimate. You’ve got me there. That’s not the problem.”

Her gaze narrowed. “Then what is?”

After closing his eyes and running a hand through his hair, Clint sat his drink on the table in front of him. “It’s no good this thing her and I have. For either of us. I can’t help but think it will ruin us when it’s over.”

“I think you better explain that,” Bucky said. “Nat said you’ve been more laid back than she’s seen you in years. She thinks Y/N is responsible for that.”

God, they were never going to understand this. “Look, for years I’ve had a routine. My life has had a certain order to it. There are few surprises and I like it that way. With Y/N, everything is a surprise. I never know exactly what will happen in any given situation. I spend half my time with her and when I’m not with her, I want to be with her. Believe it or not, I’ve got shit to do. I can’t be spending all my time thinking about a woman the same age as my daughter.”

“First of all, you and I both know you couldn’t care less about the age thing. Secondly, what you’re describing is exactly what a relationship is supposed to be like, Barton. I know it’s been awhile, but I didn’t think you were that clueless.” Nat arched a brow looking entirely too pleased with herself.

“Thanks, Nat. That’s helpful and would be fantastic if I was looking for a real relationship.”

Nat rolled her eyes but before Clint could call her out for it, Bucky spoke up. “What’s bringing this on all of a sudden?”

Clint chewed at his bottom lip. “Some boy was hitting on her this afternoon. I didn’t like it.”

“Okay, so you were possessive. You’re always like that. Even when you don’t much like the woman you’re with.”

It was true that Clint had an exclusivity clause in the contracts but that was to keep up appearances and to keep from being bothered by jealous boyfriends. It certainly wasn’t because he didn’t want them speaking to other men. Hell, he rarely cared.

Apparently seeing Clint wasn’t convinced, Bucky continued. “Has she said anything to you about feelings? Made any declarations of love or the like?”

“No.” That was true enough.

“Personally, I think that you just aren’t used to spending time with someone whose company you enjoy. You’ve forgotten how nice it can be. If she’s not saying she’s in love with you I don’t see why anything would be ruined when it’s over. I mean it’s not as if you love her or anything so you should be good.” Bucky sipped his drink while Clint stewed over his words.

“You’re right, Bucky. I think I’m just paranoid because things have been going so well. Thanks.” He stood and glanced at Nat. “He might even give better advice than you.”

She huffed and arched a brow but said nothing. They followed him to the door. Once he was on his bike and ready to take off, he turned back to wave and found Barnes speaking into Nat’s ear. The grin on his best friend’s face grew with every word. Something about both of their expressions told him he’d just missed out on a fantastic joke.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Happy Together : 2

Small World

Character(s): (deceptively) dark!Steve

Warnings: this is a dark!fic, it contains non/dubious-consent elements. It goes without (and with) saying that this is 18+.

Series Synopsis: The reader is stood up while awaiting a blind date, instead finding herself keeping company with the restaurant’s famous owner; Steve Rogers. After that night, she tries to forget her humiliation but she just can’t shake one thing about that night: him.

Chapter Summary: The reader sees a familiar face.

Notes: For reference to setting, see the previous chapter. As for this one, I hope you have patience. Now, Witness kinda took a few chapters to get to the crux, but this one might take a little longer. ;) But I promise, it’s going to be some very fucked up Steve eventually. In advance, I thank everyone for following along and soon I will start adding to other WIPs one Witness is finished (maybe finally start that Medieval AU lol) <3

Thanks to everyone who reads and as always, I looked forward to hearing from you in the replies/reblogs/tags/asks. <3

You were annoyed that you had wasted time at that restaurant waiting on yet another unreliable and selfish man. You could’ve used the hour finishing your latest commission but instead you spent your Saturday morning on the project. You usually tried to save that day for yourself. Self-employed, you made it a priority to work at least six days a week. You were paid well enough, quite successful as it was, but you liked the security of having a little extra under your belt. Besides, it always made you anxious to think that you could be actually doing something instead of lazing around on your couch watching Netflix.

Plus, you needed the distraction from your self-pity. The humiliation lingered for a few days after and even your work couldn’t erase it entirely. Why hadn’t he come? Was it an innocent case of forgetfulness? Or maybe he had changed his mind after seeing you. Tandi had exchanged your information via Facebook and he had seen your photo the same as you had his. Perhaps he hadn’t been as pleased at the prospect. Ugh, you didn’t even know him. Just forget it!

It was Wednesday and the disappointment was still a speck at the edge of your mind. It was sunny for once, a light jacket over your blouse and jeans as you basked in the warming spring air. You walked merrily to the park, happy to be outside, refreshed almost. You found a place on one of the bench, the melody of birds and interspersed voices of people filling the flowery air. You pulled your tablet and pen from your leather tote and opened up your program, working on the outline of the geometric logo you had started the night before.

Every now and then you looked up from your work and admired the serenity nestled amidst the chaotic city. You crossed your legs, resting your tablet against your knee and continued to draw, the sunlight hugging you. A blur moved across the top of your vision and paused, looming closer and you slowly looked up. The tablet nearly slid off your knee as you spotted the man approaching you. It couldn’t be.

“Hey, it’s you,” Steve greeted, his perfect smile shining brighter than the sky. “Sorry, I didn’t get your name the other night.”

“Um, Y/N,” You answer, shading your eyes from the sun beaming over his shoulder, “You remember me?”

“A face like yours is easy to remember,” He replied coyly, “I’m Steve, by the way.”

“Yeah, I uh...know,” You admitted shyly, “Thanks again…”

“Oh, it was nothing,” He waved away the gratuity, “Do you mind if I sit?”

“Go ahead,” You shrugged, steadying your tablet across your knee.

“Are you drawing something?” He asked, your tablet half-dimmed as it threatened to lock.

“Yeah. Working actually,” You explained, clicking the sleep button and shifting the screen against your thigh. “I’m a graphic artist.”

“Ah,” He nodded, “Makes sense. It must be fun. Doing something creative like that.”

“It can be,” You answered, “I…” You paused, his eyes never leaving yours. He was so intent on you, as if no one else was in the park. How had he picked you out among the crowd? Half of New York had probably been in his restaurant. You shook away the overly paranoid questions and continued. “Depends on the job, really. I mostly just do corporate logos and designs. Can’t really get paid for what I want to draw.”

“Well, what do you like to draw?” He stretched his arm over the back of the bench, you almost didn’t notice as it slid behind you. You were sure it was just a casual gesture, a habit he didn’t give much thought to, but it felt entirely too intimate.

“Life, I guess. People, animals, trees. I just like to create scenes, not just...symbols,” You said, nervously twirling the pen between your fingers. “I prefer to paint, really.”

“Oh, yeah? Do have any of them on that thing?” He pointed to the tablet, “Anything you’re willing to show me?” You blinked as his tone caught you off-guard. He was talking about your art and yet it seemed like he meant something more. You could’ve sworn his eyes had strayed from your face for just a second. God, you were crazy. After being stood up and nearly two years by yourself, you were growing delusional.

“I might, I, um...one second,” You unlocked your tablet and saved your work. You opened your gallery and flipped through your files, settling on a quick sketch you had done of a sparrow that had built a nest outside your building. “It’s just a drawing, but, um, here.”

You handed over the tablet and he tilted it so he could see the screen, his brows lifting as his eyes ran over the lines and shadows done in monochrome, splashes of auburn here and there to give a hint of life to the sketch. “Wow, that’s really good.” He looked up, holding the tablet out to you, “You’re very talented.”

“Thanks,” You looked away shyly, “Really, it’s just a sketch. I’ve seen way better.”

“No, no, what you do is amazing. You shouldn’t compare yourself to others,” He smiled as you took the tablet, your fingers brushing his by accident. “You’re you and that makes it more than a sketch. It’s art.”

You allowed yourself a small smile. “Thank you,” You locked your tablet again and set it on your lap, resting your pen beside it.

“Well,” He slowly pulled his arm out from behind you, his warmth releasing you as he stood. “I’ll leave you to it. I’d hate to keep you from you work.” He checked his watch as he spoke, “And I’ve got to get to the restaurant for dinner service.” He looked back to you, his blue eyes searching you, considering you closely as he measured his next words, “You should definitely come back some time. You know, no date required.”

“Yeah, uh, sure,” You nodded evasively. You didn’t really want to admit that you couldn’t go back not because you were dateless but because you had bills. “It was, uh, surprising to run into you.”

“You, too,” He grinned, his golden brows twitching, “The special tonight is salmon. You should give it a try….have a good one.”

He turned away, strolling across the park and onto the street. You drew your brows together as you saw a silver car pull up and he got inside. Why would he be walking through the park if he had a town car? You shook your head and readjusted your tablet across your knee. Maybe he had just gotten out to stretch. You doubted he had gone out of his way to bug you.

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

You balanced the mugs, careful not to spill any of the foam as you walked between tables and found your seat by the window. Tandi was sat with her phone out, grinning at the screen like an idiot. You set her latte in front of her and cupped your own warm mug as you sat down. She finished typing and relinquished her phone on the table. She looked up at you, starry-eyed over her latest fling. Well, they’d been seeing each other for a couple months so maybe it was getting serious.

“I’m real sorry about Danny,” She said. She had arrived as you were waiting in line, grabbing a seat as you bided your time in the queue. Your mouth twitched and you looked away. The heat still rose in your cheeks whenever you thought of the painful hour spent in the restaurant. It had been more than a week.

“It’s not your fault,” You grumbled, “It was just embarrassing...I can’t believe I sat there that long. It was like everyone was staring at me.”

“I’m sure they weren’t, but it was a dick thing to do. I’ve blocked him on Snap, Facebook, and Twitter.” She smirked, “So yeah, fuck him.”

“Ha, thanks,” You scoffed, raising your mug to sip from it, the foam cooling the espresso. Your eyes wandered out the window as you leaned back in your chair.

“You know, not all guys are like that, Y/N,” She trilled, “Carson’s a nice guy and he has lots of friends.”

“I don’t want to date any of your boyfriend’s bros,” You protested, watching the passerbys through the glass. “Carson’s nice but not my type and I can’t imagine his friends are of a different cut.”

“Well, you should at least consider someone. Anyone!” She said dramatically, but before you could chuckle it caught in your throat. You swore you recognized that blonde head across the street. You couldn’t say for sure as it quickly ducked into the suit shop and you blinked as the mug in your hand wobbled. You steadied your grip and turned back to Tandi. Right, you were going crazy.

“I will. One day. But I’m fine right now. Work’s good and steady and I feel pretty good. I can do what I want when I want...Living with Mike was difficult and I didn’t even realize how much I hated it til he was gone.” You stopped yourself before you could get too emotional. “I know it’s been a long time, but I’m working on it, a little at a time.”

“I know…” She reached over and touched the back of your hand, “I just want you to be happy; healthy.”

You smiled. A genuine smile. Not the one you put on for strangers or when you were anxious. A real one and it felt good. You took another gulp and waited for Tandi to begin her usual train of gossip. She always had the messiest stories about her workplace; she was an actor and had garnered many a theatre job, enough at least to keep her studio apartment. Once she began, it was hard to stop her and your latte was drained by the time she finished.

Her phone shook the table. She flipped it over and checked the notification, her face shone. “Carson’s back from his trip,” She almost sang. You stared at her and sighed as her eyes rounded brightly.

“Go on,” You relented, “You’re free to go. I won’t keep you. Just call me when you get a chance...if you get a chance.”

“Thank you,” She stood so quickly she hit the table with her hip. She pulled on her thin trench, pulling taught the belt around her thin waist. “I love you, you know that?”

“I know. That’s why I’m letting you go,” You crossed your arm, “Just let me know you’ve arrived safely. You know I’m paranoid.”

“Sure, sure,” She leaned down to give you half-hug, “I’ll see you.”

“See you,” You patted her lower back in return, “Bye.”

You watched her go, content at least with the hour shared with her. You couldn’t expect her to put her life on hold because you had. You weren’t bitter but you mulled her words. Just because one jerk had stood you up didn’t mean they all would. Maybe not today or tomorrow or the next day, but you’d be ready to start again one day. For now, you wanted to pop into the used bookstore just across the street. You always found something interesting there.

You stepped out into the cool spring afternoon, the evening looming as a hint of rain floated in the air. You ran across the street and hopped up onto the curb, your focus solely on the book shop. You entered with a ring, the small bell above the door announcing your entrance. The storekeeper was sat at a desk stacked with book, the daily newspaper held aloft like a shield. You headed for the back shelves where vintage magazines were kept in old filing crates. You liked to use them for inspiration.

As you picked out decades-old issues, the bell jingled again but you didn’t pay much heed to the arrival of another. You continued to thumb through the magazines until you had half a dozen, content that they would last you a while. You stood and looked along the shelf, walking parallel to it slowly as you read the titles of ancient odes and medieval limericks. You stopped to pull out a collection of Wordsworth, the spine thin and worn, easily falling open in your hand.

“Excuse me,” The voice interrupted you before you could finish reading the title of the first poem. It was oddly familiar. Your lashes fluttered in disbelief, “You dropped…” Steve’s voice died and he chuckled as you turned to him slowly, “You again.”

“Uh-huh,” You mumbled warily. It had been him on the street retreating into the suit shop. That would prove he had been in the area for more than an hour but why? He held no wares from his visit to the tailor’s. Another coincidence? Surely, you weren’t that special.

“As I was saying, you dropped this,” He held up the white pen you used with your tablet. It had likely slipped out as you knelt at the crates.

“Thanks,” You accepted it and tucked it snuggly in the side pocket.

“What’s that you got there?” He asked, nodding at the book in your hand.

“Nothing,” You closed it and placed it back on the shelf. “I was just wasting time.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiled, resting his hand on the shelf as he leaned on it casually. “I just kinda stumbled in. Saw this copy of Dante’s Inferno,” He held up the painted cover which depicted an eerie cave spiralling ever downward, “My mother used to keep a copy but I never read it. Thought maybe I could give it a try.”

“Cool,” You hugged the magazines to you chest. Something about him being there at that exact moment was off. The unease was stronger than it had been at the park; his spontaneous visit had been more believable then. You tried to smile. You were being dumb. And what were you even afraid of? He used to be an Avenger. He was good guy. “I was actually just about to head--”

A clap of thunder shrouded your next words. You looked past the bookshelves as the light rain you had failed to notice through the window began to pour down in sheets. Your distress must have been plain as your lips parted slightly.

“Do you need a ride?” He asked, shaking you from your despair. You looked back to him and tried to think of something. Anything.

“I’ll catch a cab,” You shrugged him off, trying to seem unperturbed. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Don’t waste your money. You can share my town car. He’s just outside. I’m sure you don’t live too far out of the way.” He smirked, his hand shifting along the shelf as he edged closer. You almost didn’t notice the subtle movement.

“Really, I can’t. You’ve already done enough. I really should, um, go.” You back away only to find the corner at your back.

“I won’t let you say no,” He asserted, “Come on. Just a car ride. That’s it. I mean, do you really wanna stand out in this and hail a cab?”

You stared up at him as you considered the invitation. Why were you so reluctant? He had done nothing to earn your distrust. If anything, he had only done you favours. But why? Oh, shut up brain, he wasn’t Mike. Or Danny. He actually seemed like a decent human being so why were you being so dumb?

“Okay,” You relented, “Sure. Why not.”

****

tags:  @ruff-m3rc @alexakeyloveloki @lanabanana-86 @sathlens @jessieray98 @kellyn1604 @ahideousthinginside @ironlady1993 @kloe-iel @grayxswan @iheartsebastianstan @myboyfriendgiriboy @tanelle83 @patzammit @phoenix21love @they-call-me-le @iheartsebastianstan