#captain america x enhanced!reader

[tldrthor]

The Princess (and the chaos she brings with her) - steve rogers x fem!reader (1/?)

Summary: when Thor asked the avengers to guard a dear friend of his, they didn't think twice before saying yes. What they didn't know was that said friend is the princess of one of the nine realms, and a lost love of one Captain Rogers.

Part 1 // I thought you were dead // word count: 3.5k

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"(y/n), you have to eject, right now!" Steve screamed over the torrents of wind whistling through the ship. Schmidt was dead, gone. So was the tesseract. But it wasn't over yet. "I have to put her in the water!"

The girl behind him widened her eyes, battling against the elements to reach him. "There's no world in which I let you do that, Captain!"

"I'm not asking for permission!"

"Well then, I guess we go down together!" She painstakingly made her way to him, every step a feat of strength. Her previously neatly pinned curls no longer even resembled what they once were as her hair whipped around her face.

As Steve turned to face her, she somehow still looked angelic. He felt that right now, she was more heavenly than ever. He couldn't let her die with him.

"Buckle in." He commanded, as they began their quick descent. He looked at her, the first woman who had ever made him feel seen, the only person he had ever met who was as crazy as he was.

As the ice flew closer, he turned and placed a hand tenderly on her face. Tears welled in his eyes as his mind wandered to the future they could've had. God, they could have been amazing.

"I'm sorry, (y/n)." He whispered. She could only just hear it, even though they were right next to each other.

He pulled the yellow ejection lever on the seat she had just buckled herself into, watching as her eyes widened. "No! Steve, no!" She lifted her hands to stop him, to jam the lever, anything to stay with him. She wasn't quick enough.

Steve closed his eyes as her seat was ejected, hearing her scream his name. There was no world where he allowed her to go down with him, and he trusted that wherever she ended up, Stark and Peggy would find her. He hoped they would be able to find him, too.

He hadn't prayed in a long time, but as he went down, he bargained with God for her safety.

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"It is my honour to introduce the new and improved Captain America and the Howling Commandos exhibit, in honour of the 100th birthday of Captain Steven Grant Rogers." The crowd clapped as the senator stepped off the podium, motioning for Steve to take the mic. Bucky and Sam laughed at how uncomfortable the Captain was as he stood thanking everyone for an exhibit he never wanted. All part of the job, he supposed.

After the handshakes, and the photo ops, and the autographs and the meet and greets, the boys finally got relative peace to wander around the new exhibition.

"I can't believe you used to wear these stupid suits." Sam laughed, standing in front of the main exhibit. Bucky sighed, budging Sam's shoulder. "Says the asshole who wears a bird suit to fight." He retorts.

Steve laughed at his friends antics, but walked away when he noticed an addition to the exhibit he hadn't seen before. He stared, wide eyed at the name in front of him.

(Y/N): THE MISSING HERO?

Steve found himself drinking in every inch of the gorgeous photo underneath the text, her bright smile and barely visible freckles. The lighting highlighted the different hues in her immaculately pinned hair. She looked just like an angel, as she always did in real life.

Steve looked down, forlorn eyes investigating very few artefacts in the glass exhibit. Her folded uniform, found in her room after the plane went down. The blush lipstick you wore every day. Finally, an object that Steve didn't recognise. A golden ring, encrusted in unidentified jewels and a family crest no one knew. He frowned.

He had known her only a short few months, but he regretted never asking about her family. And now, it would haunt him that he never did until his last breath.

"They never found her, huh?" Bucky placed his covered hand on Steve's shoulder, a sadness tinged in his voice. He had only met (y/n) briefly, but he knew even then that Steve's heart rested in the palm of that woman's hand.

He had asked about her, once, but the look on Steve's face when her name was mentioned told him everything he needed to know.

"No. Howard searched for years, found nothing. Turned out that she had lied on her intake forms for the SSR, too. We don't even know if (y/n) was really her name." He took a beat. "We have no idea if she survived or not."

Steve didn't have to make the subtext clear, Bucky knew he worried that he had killed her by ejecting her from that plane. Bucky also knew there was no sense in trying to tell him she would have died either way, that the ice would've killed her.

"You okay?" Bucky asked, after another few moments of silence.

Steve nodded, looking at the photo. "I'm glad she's remembered. I just wish I didn't have so many unanswered questions."

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"So," Tony started. "Thor is arriving with the guest of honour later today, who we have agreed to protect here for the meantime. We don't have a lot of background for this one. The dark elves are the ones we're protecting her against, but Thor said threat could come from many areas. Do we have any questions?"

The team looked nothing short of bored. Well, most of them. Cap always had the good grace to sit up and look interested. Scott was straight up asleep.

"Is she important? How long will she be staying with us?" Steve asked.

"No idea, and uh, no idea. Anything else?"

"Is she single?" Sam asked, earning a laugh from some of the others. Steve shook his head disapprovingly, but smiled at his friend's levity.

As Steve stood up to go back to training, FRIDAY sounded around the room. "Excuse me everyone, my satellites have detected a bifrost signal heading for the compound imminently."

"Speak of the devil!" Tony clapped his hands as everyone headed out to the bifrost landing site (something that had been instituted after Tony's lawn got scorched one too many times).

Bucky smacked Scott upside the head to wake him up with a jolt. "Oh, where are you guys going?" He called behind them, jogging to catch up. Steve waited behind from him, laughing at his groggy friend.

A bright light connected with the grass just beside the landing site. Tony's hands covered his eyes as he mouthed are you fucking kidding me. When the light cleared, Thor stood tall in his usual armour.

"My friends!" His voice boomed, "I present to you, my fellow avengers, the honourable princess of Alfheim, jewel of the Alfar and ambassador to Asgard." Thor's voice boomed through the halls of the compound. "This is my friend, (y/n)."

Beside Thor stood a girl. She was breathtakingly beautiful, with a heavenly stature. She looked like she could have been carved from marble by the hands of God himself.

A light Asgardian pink dress was covered by a golden chest-plate which fit her body like it had been moulded just for her. It was covered in intricate etchings of suns and stars, which caught the light and shone brilliantly. She wore golden jewellery, which was nothing like the avengers had ever seen. Golden ear cuffs covered her pointed ears, with her long hair pulled into an up-do, emphasising the golden, bejewelled tiara on her head.

"Princess?" Sam squeaked. Wanda smacked him, with a look that screamed don't embarrass us.

Tony tilted his head in confusion at the guest, who he could almost swear he recognised from somewhere. "Thor, you did not inform us that we were looking after the ruler of a planet. We would have been more prepared."

"I am not ruler yet, Mr. Stark." The girl cast her eyes up at Tony, as she smiled sweetly. Her voice was honey smooth, and anyone who heard it felt themselves being charmed by it. "I have heard much about you all from Thor."

"Should we bow?" Bruce whispered to Tony, who shrugged his shoulders. Thankfully, (y/n) took the lead and shook each of their hands.

She looked around at each of the gathered avengers. Thor made his introductions to the rest of the group. "Where are the others?" Thor enquired.

"Here!" Steve smiled at the site of his old friend, his view of the princess obscured by the large man. Bucky and Scott tagged behind him, also happily greeting Thor.

"Captain, it is very good to see you. Please, let me introduce you to the Princess (y/n)." Thor stepped aside to introduce them, but his eyebrows knitted together in confusion when neither of them moved, almost frozen in place.

"Uh... hi." Scott side-stepped the Captain and caught the eye of their guest. "My name's Scott Lang."

The girl tore her eyes away from the captain, unsure really on what to do. But her training kicked in, knowing that being rude was one of the worst sins a princess could commit. "Hello, Mr. Lang. I am (y/n)."

"Holy shit." Bucky breathed out.

The rest of the avengers watched the rather silent exchange with confusion. It was very unlike Steve to get so tongue-tied, and he would never be so rude as to not introduce himself.

"Captain Rogers..." The girl spoke first, confusing them further. "I believed you dead." Tears had welled in her eyes, intriguing the observing crowd even more.

"I thought you were dead." He breathed. "What... what is going on?"

Bucky interjected. "Um, hi. I'm Bucky, we met briefly in '45."

She smiled softly at him, but her eyes betrayed her confusion. "Sergeant Barnes, of course! Didn't you... also die?"

"Yeah, we've all got a lot of explaining to do." Bucky laughed as the absurdity of the situation caught up to him.

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Thor's eyes darted between his friend and the captain. When Thor asked the avengers to guard her from the war on Alfheim, he knew some hijinks would ensue. This is not what he expected. He knew you had spent some time on Midgard before and when you returned you were emotionally distraught. He had simply figured the war you had fought with the Midgardians had taken it's toll.

He eyed both the Captain and you, suspiciously. You were his dear friend, but you had never talked to him about any mortal love.

"So, Princess. You've been here before." Tony enquired.

The Princess licked her lips nervously, glancing at Steve, who had barely moved a muscle, his eyebrows furrowed. "Yes, Mr. Stark. I spent some time here during the second world war. I left Midgard when Johann Schmidt was defeated, and haven't returned since."

"Tell us about your world, Princess. I've never heard of it before." Natasha, the red-head in the corner, asked the guest.

"You have heard of it before." The princess smiled, explaining. "I believe we are now known as a fantasy character here - you call us elves." She pointed to her pointed ears as each avenger clung to her words.

Thor smiled at his Midgardian friends' curiosity.

"The Alfar still live amongst you, they are simply unseen. I believe you may know Tolkien?" At the mention of the author's name, everyone's ears pricked. "He was one of my father's greatest friends and many of his book settings were inspired by Alfheim."

"What!" Scott exclaimed. "That's insane."

"Really, Ant Man?" Bucky responded, pointing out that they were all ridiculous, when you thought about it. The world was crazy now.

The princess chuckled, and rose from her seat at the conference table. "Thank you very much for your hospitality, Avengers. I would quite like to rest in my chambers, if you would be so gracious to allow me."

"Um, yeah... consider yourself allowed." Tony stumbled over his words. Very unusual for him, and it did not go unnoticed by the others. "Dinner is at seven."

"Thank you, Mr. Stark. Captain Rogers," She addressed the Captain, who looked up quickly. His face was pale, and he nervously twiddled his thumbs. "Would you be so kind as to show me my rooms?"

He popped up, almost comedically fast. "Yes. Yeah, sure. Um, this way." He walked out quickly, darting his eyes back to make sure the princess was following him.

She followed, gracefully. Her skirts fanned out behind her as she walked. The avengers in the room could scarcely take their eyes off her as she faded from sight.

As soon as the door closed behind them, the room devolved into chaos. People shouting theories and questions left, right and centre. Mostly, everyone was just bewildered. Bucky and Thor discussed how they had both known the couple separately, and whether each had talked about the other.

Natasha watched as Tony sat quietly on his tablet for a few seconds, searching for something she could only assume was relevant to the discussion at hand.

"Bucky, what's the deal there?" Clint asked.

He was interrupted by Tony. "Aha!" Stark called, silencing the room. "I knew I recognised her from somewhere."

He projected a photograph to the wall, and the avengers gasped.

The photograph consisted of Steve and Bucky front and centre. Bucky had his left arm wrapped lazily around Tony's dad, Howard. And Steve was looking directly at the girl next to him, holding her to him by the waist. It was the princess. The gaze he looked at her with... it was like nothing they had ever seen from him.

"They didn't just know each other, they were in love." Bucky replied to Clint's question, a hint of sadness underneath his words.

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(Y/n) followed Steve along the large corridors of the compound, her smaller legs working double time to match his long strides. They walked in silence, for the most part. It wasn't the comfortable kind.

"Captain." She spoke first, again. As she called for him, he stopped walking abruptly, turning slowly. He met her gaze and then cast his eye down.

"(y/n)... I mean, um, Princess." He responded.

"(y/n) is sufficient." She whispered, almost guiltily. "I can't believe you're alive..."

"I can't believe you're alive," He retorted. "I searched for you, when I woke up. They couldn't find any records of you other than your enlistment form, and they found you had lied. People think you're just a ghost story..."

He took a breath. "I can't believe you're here and... an alien princess?"

"I know it's hard to believe, I hope you understand why I couldn't tell you back then." She laughed. "When I found that you and Sergeant Barnes were dead, I couldn't face being here anymore... I returned to Alfheim."

As she thought back on it, a tear sprung to her eye. On seeing her reaction, Steve couldn't help himself but place a friendly hand on her back, rubbing soothing circles. She briefly froze at the contact, but quickly, she moved her own hand down his arm until she was holding onto his hand with both of hers.

So much went unsaid, but the contact confirmed what they had both most desperately wanted to know. Would it be the same?

"If I had known that you and Sergeant Barnes were alive, Captain..." She admitted. "I would have returned in an instant, I give you my word."

He smiled, rubbing a thumb over the back of her hand. A red blush hugged her cheeks as he did so.

It was typical of him that he couldn't concentrate on the moment, "Why are you here?" He asked. "What are we protecting you from?"

She sighed. "The Svartalfar, or the dark elves. You may know them - they attacked Thor in the Midgardian city of London some years ago now." He nodded in recognition.

"They are determined to conquer Alfheim, and have set their sights on my family. They have already managed to get close to killing me."

She pushed the collar of her dress down, showing a large, angry, red scar just above her collarbone. His hands flew up to trace the scar. She gulped at the close contact, her eyes meeting his.

His expression gave away his concern, knowing that Thor had suggested she was in a lot of danger. "Don't worry, Princess. You're safe here." He smiled, softly. "We'll protect you with everything we've got."

"Thank you, Captain."

"It's just Steve." He unhooked their hands, and gave her his arm. She linked her arm in his, and he resumed wandering down the halls to her rooms. "Do you have any bags?"

"No, I fled to Asgard with nothing when I needed healing. The Asgardians were kind enough to offer many gorgeous clothes for me to bring, but I figured they were a bit conspicuous."

Steve laughed, "Yeah, they might be."

They walked for a little while longer, before Steve entered a room to the side. It was rather basic compared to what she was used to, but it would more than suffice for the meantime.

"This is your room." He stood by the door as she entered. "I'm just down the hall if you need anything. I'll get Tony to send you some less conspicuous clothes. See you at dinner."

"Thank you, Steven." He laughed at her inability to be too informal with him. He nodded at her, and turned to walk down the hall to his room.

As he entered, the photograph of her from the Smithsonian caught his eye from the nightstand. He picked it up, tracing her features with his finger - unable to stop the smile spreading across his face. Who would've thought? Not only was his girl alive, she was also alien royalty. Sometimes, just sometimes, he adored his strange, strange world.

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"Sir," The agent walked into the dark room with purpose in her every step. "The Princess has been spotted."

The man in the chair looked up at the mention of his target. "Show me" he ordered. He watched as agent transferred the images on her tablet to the big screen, showing grainy, far away surveillance of the avengers compound.

As low quality as the image was, the woman arriving with Thor in the distinctive Alfar dress and armour was certainly the princess.

"Oh, my dear..." The man's deep voice dragged out. "You have walked right into our sights."

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a/n: let me know what you think! if you can't tell, this is basically the set up for a longer series... i'm really excited to explore this character and get deeper into the relationships!

i've never really written in the third person POV before, so let me know if it's something you like or not, and i can switch for the next part.

please like/reblog if you enjoy! let me know if you would like to be tagged in the next part <3

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Full of Surprises » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Boyfriend/Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend/Enhanced!Reader, Steve Rogers x Sister/Enhanced!Reader with Sam Wilson/Falcon

Summary: As if the day wasn’t filled with enough surprises, Steve finds out his younger sister is alive and she’s dating his best friend.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, language, mention of HYDRA, kissing, pet names

A/N: This takes place during Captain America: Civil War. Also, the reader has the same powers as Wanda, but they’re blue.

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

You were hiding in the same building as Bucky, Steve, and Sam. You were two rooms away from them as they were talking. Bucky was explaining to Steve and Sam everything HYDRA has done over the years. What Steve doesn’t know that his younger sister is alive. Yes, you’re the younger sister of Captain America. You wanted to wait it out for a moment before revealing yourself to your older brother.

“I knew something like this was going to happen. I just didn’t know it would happen like this.” Bucky says apologetically and sincerely.

“None of this is your fault, Buck and you know it.” Steve says softly.

Bucky looked down at the ground. There was something else he had to tell Steve. He just didn’t know how to tell him. How does someone tell anyone that he’s dating his best friend’s younger sister? Especially his best friend.

“Buck, what is it?” Steve asks.

Bucky took a deep breath and looked up at Steve. He was nervous to tell Steve that he’s dating his younger sister. It’s not like it’s the 1930’s or 1940’s where he can straight up tell him that he’s in love with his sister. Steve probably would’ve been more understanding back then, but he’s not too sure about now.

“There’s something else you need to know.” Bucky says.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me.” Steve says.

“It’s about Y/N.” He starts.

“My younger sister Y/N? What about her?” He asks.

“You have a sister?” Sam asks Steve.

“Yes. She died years ago.” He tells him.

“She’s alive.” He tells him.

Steve’s eyes went wide in shock.

“No.” Steve said. “That’s not true. She’s dead. I seen her death certificate.” He says.

“It’s fake.” Bucky said. “HYDRA somehow got their hands on Y/N years ago and experimented on her and made her enhanced.” He explained. “She’s a Super Soldier with powers.” He says.

“As much as I want to believe that, it’s not true.” He says, being in denial.

“It’s true.” Bucky confirms. “I’ve seen her.” He tells him.

“You’ve seen her and you didn’t tell me?” Steve asks.

“She made me promise not to tell anyone. She was scared that HYDRA would come after her.” He says.

“It’s true.” You spoke up.

Steve turned around to see you walking towards him. He looks like he just seen a ghost.

“Hi, Stevie.” You say softly with a smile.

Steve walked up to you and gave you a tight hug, picking you up off of your feet. He never thought he would get the chance to see you and hear your voice again, but here he is.

“I missed you.” Steve whispers.

“I missed you too.” You whispered back. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this.” You say.

“It’s ok. I’m just happy that you’re alive.” He says softly.

Steve gently put you back on your feet and you introduced yourself to Sam. You then walked over to Bucky and gave him a hug.

“Did you tell him?” You asked Bucky.

“Not yet.” Bucky answers.

“Tell me what?” Steve asks, looking from you to Bucky.

You and Bucky nervously looked at Steve. You two weren’t sure how he’s going to like the idea of his younger sister and his best friend dating. If it was the 1940s, Steve would probably be more supportive. You two aren’t sure about that in this very moment.

“Me and Bucky are together.” You tell your older brother.

“What do you mean you and Bucky are together?” Steve asks.

“Y/N and I are dating.” Bucky tells him.

Steve stared at you and Bucky in silence, trying to process what you and Bucky just told him.

“You’re dating your best friend’s sister?” Sam asks Bucky.

“Yes.” Bucky answers.

This came out as a surprise to Steve, but at the same time, it didn’t. When you guys were younger, Bucky was always flirting with you and you had a huge crush on your older brother’s best friend. Steve being the older brother he is, told you not to go out with Bucky cause he was trying to protect you. He also knows Bucky’s track record when it comes to dating and none of those relationships lasted long and didn’t end on not so good terms.

“You didn’t listen to a word I told you, did you?” Steve looks at you. “I told you what would happen if you date Bucky.” He says.

“Steve, I’m not 16 anymore. I can do whatever I want now and what I want is to date Bucky.” You say.

“I know.” He said. “All I’m doing is trying to protect you.” He says.

“So is Bucky!” You say, raising your voice.

Steve rose his eyebrows at you in surprise. So was Bucky. You’ve never raised your voice at your brother. This is first for you and him.

“I’m sorry for raising my voice.” You apologized. “But Bucky has been protecting me too.” You tell him.

Steve silently stared at you for a moment before rubbing his hands on his face and running his fingers through his hair.

“How long have you two been together?” Steve asks.

“Since the day we fought on the bridge when I was under HYDRA’s control.” Bucky answered.

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head back so he was looking up at the ceiling.

“My best friend and my little sister.” Steve says to himself and then looked at you and Bucky. “My best friend and my little sister.” He says again.

Bucky’s arm tightened its grip around your waist. You nervously played with Bucky’s hairs.

“Can you please be supportive and happy for us, Stevie?” You asked in a pleading tone.

Steve looked at you and then Bucky. He did that a couple more times before sighing and putting his hands on his hips and putting his focus on Bucky for a moment.

“I won’t hesitate to beat your ass if you hurt her or break her heart.” Steve says, being the protective older brother he always has been.

“You know I’m not going to hurt her or break her heart, Steve.” Bucky confirms.

“Good. Now that we’re on the same page…” Steve walked closer to you and Bucky. “I will try my best to be supportive and happy for you two.” He says.

You practically squealed and hugged your older brother. Steve chuckles softly and hugs you back. You then turned to Bucky and kissed his lips.

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Steve pulled you and Bucky apart. “That doesn’t mean you two can kiss in front of me.” He says.

You and Bucky laughed when Steve said that.

“This is sweet.” Sam chimes in. “But we need a plan if we’re going to do this.” He says.

“You’re right.” Steve says.

“I know a guy.” Sam says.

“I can help too!” You say.

“I don’t know, Y/N. This is going to be dangerous.” Steve says.

“I have powers.” You enlightened a red ball of energy in your hand. “Just so you know, my powers are very useful in situations like this.” You say.

“She’s not wrong.” Bucky says, agreeing with you.

Steve looked at you for a moment and sighed before saying anything.

“Ok, fine.” He finally says.

“Yes! Let’s do this!” You say, pumping your fist in the air.

“Your sister is cool, man.” Sam says to Steve.

“Too bad she’s mine.” Bucky says, wrapping his arm around your waist and narrowing his eyes at Sam, making you giggle.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[ramp-it-up]

Bucky Barnes and the Summer Soldier- One

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced! Reader

Summary: Bucky has been looking for you for a while. Is he going to destroy you before you complete your mission?

Word Count 2.2K

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. S MUT! Read at your own risk. Curate your own experience. Reader is confined in a mental health faculty, suppressed memories, Pursuit, implied former combat, kidnapping, coercion, mind control, dub con. Raw s ex, hair pulling, rough s ex, cream pie, c um play/oral (m receiving), a ssault. Google translate Hausa and Russian. Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N: This is a result of this ask from @flordeamatista. I have taken great liberties with the MCU cannon and timeline. This is fiction! As always, reblog if you like it!

I don’t have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post!

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

You ran for your life, lungs burning, feet flying.

You looked behind you to see that the one pursuing you was not far off. You ducked down a hallway and into an open door. 

Your chest heaved as you leaned against the wall and looked around for a hiding space.

Fragmented memories were coming back to you during this pursuit, and at this moment, the sense of running barefoot through tall reeds on the banks of a river overwhelmed you. 

You shook it off, although you couldn’t help yourself from looking to the air for your favorite brightly colored water fowl. Your heart dropped when you looked around to register an empty room with a solitary gurney. The fact that you were trapped in a mental hospital and not outside it sucked the air out of you. 

And then you heard his footsteps.

Bucky slowed his pace as his ears perked up, and he opened the same door you did moments before. He’d come for you an hour ago and you’d managed to evade him ever since. Typical for one who’d taken the serum. You were a hard target to acquire, but he was determined.

He scanned the empty room, checking for trap doors or hidden panels. He walked over to the windows, which were sealed shut. He looked down on the courtyard that patients weren’t allowed to use and shook his head, then, he made his way out of the door again.

You waited three minutes after you heard his footsteps retreating before you moved the ceiling tile and dropped down from where you’d been hiding.

For some reason, the man you were hiding from you terrified you. Ever since you saw his face weeks ago when you fought him on a mission, you’d been plagued with strange memories. Which made your Master have to reset you again and again. You resented that. 

Despite the fact that you felt impelled destroy him, you did not want to face the dark-haired man in black with the piercing blue eyes again. You may not know your own name, but you knew that man had some mysterious power over you. Even more so than the Power Broker.

Just as you reached for the doorknob, the door jerked open, the man in black returning your stare with a rueful grin. You’d been too lost in your own thoughts to be fully aware of his presence.

“Daga karshe na sameki masoyiyata.”

Your ears perked up at the language that the man spoke. You understood it, although you’d spoken French for as long as you could remember, which wasn’t long. Maybe this horrible institution wasn’t your home.

“Why did you call me that?”

Your eyes widened when English came out of your mouth. It seemed a natural response to this man. You were very confused, more than you normally were, which was always.

The man was inching closer to you now.

“Because that is who you are, Soyayya ta.”

“No! That’s not true!”

You hurled yourself at the man, climbing up his body and winding up with your legs around his neck. You squeezed,  hoping to choke him out while he grinned up at you.

“Yes it is.” 

His voice was weak, as if he was gasping for breath. For an unknown reason, you let up on his windpipe.

Suddenly, you were sat on the gurney, your right leg in his left hand. You could not get out of his grip and you two stared at each while he held your legs apart. When he licked his lips was when you kicked him in the sternum. Clearly, he was surprised at the force, which caused him to double over, but he quickly recovered and caught you before you moved two feet, grabbing your bicep and bringing your arm behind your back, placing you none too gently against the wall.

You grunted as you felt all of him, including his manhood, pressed hard and insistent upon your back. 

Was he going to violate you? 

Did you want him to?

Yet another language flowed out of his mouth, which was close to the shell of your ear. You suppressed a shiver as you heard his velvet voice. 

“Sygrayem v nashu malen'kuyu igru, kukolka?”

He snaked his left arm around your neck and pressed you back further into him as his gloved hand turned your face to his. He leaned around, as if he was going to kiss you, and opened his mouth. His breath fanned your face as he bared his teeth and bit the pointer finger of the black leather glove he was wearing. He used his mouth to tear the glove off to reveal a black and golden hand. You were mesmerized by it until it was quickly clamped over your mouth.

The sensation was familiar and when you tasted the metal; it was nearly orgasmic. Your eyes rolled baack into your head and you  all but ignored the man’s other hand roaming your body.

“I’m just checking you to see if you’re okay, Doll.”

The hand tasted like home, like warm air and smells of your favorite foods. It tasted like beautiful people and excellence and safety and…Wakanda. Your eyes flew open when you realized.

Vibranium. 

You sobbed as memories came flooding to your mind. The pathetic sounds were muffled by the vibranium hand.

Your mother. Your father. The river that was your home. Your weapons. Your money. The vow you took when you became a Dora Milaje and Shuri’s personal guard. The same vow that you broke when you fell in love with Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier…

“Farar kerkecina.…James…”

“Shhhh Doll. I’m here now.” 

Bucky pulled you into his arms from behind, and you held on to the limbs that were wrapped around you as you cried, one human and one created by the Princess, Shuri.

Finally, you turned around and looked up at the love of your life. He peered back at you, eyes full of concern, but also a mixture of relief, love, and yes, need.

“Are you okay?”

You didn’t answer him, instead, you asked your own question.

“How long, James? How long have we been apart?”

Bucky brought his hand up to your face, thumb tracing your chin and fingers in your dense curls.

“A little over two years.”

You gasped and tears fell again fresh and new. 

“I searched for you every day. I promise, Doll. And you’ve been right under my nose…”

Your heart melted.

“I know you did. The Power Broker is devious. She did horrible things. Made me do…”

And then he kissed you. His lips were the softest and strongest you’d ever tasted. You licked into his mouth and fisted his t shirt between you. 

“You don’t have to tell me. I know. And I’m going to find her and bring her to justice.” 

Bucky was panting as your hand strayed to touch the bare skin and the metal under his shirt. He smirked when you pinched his nipple.

“She is mine to destroy.”

Bucky’s smirk turned into a full fledged grin when you glared up at him and opened his pants. He shivered when you fisted him.

“There’s my girl.”

You separated from him as you pulled your shirt over your head. Next went your pants and underwear as Bucky’s eyes roamed your body. He licked his chops, just as the White Wolf would.

“You sure you don’t wanna leave, Doll? Need to check you out. Need to get you an examination… get you safe…”

You backed away from him toward the gurney.

“I need to have you James. Please. I remember. It’s been so long. I need some control back. Please.”

Bucky couldn’t stop himself from moving toward your upturned ass as you bent over the gurney and looked over your shoulder at him.

“You told me the serum heightened everything. But I didn’t understand before. I need you now, James.”

Bucky was drawn to you as if on a string.

“I get it, Doll. Everything is so much. You sure you alright, Doll?”

You hadn’t said that you were before, but you avoided the topic again.

“See for yourself, farar kerkecina.”

Bucky rubbed your ass, eyes glazed over, lust flowing through his veins. It had been a long 26 months and visions of you clouded not only his dreams, but every spare waking moment. He couldn’t help it.

His metal hand quickly undid his belt and pants while his right, his flesh, dipped into you, feeling the wetness between your legs. You reached back to the arm that shined, incrementally trying to bring him into you. He held you off, but he did slowly start to swipe his cockhead through your neglected folds.

“Oh…”

Bucky watched and drooled as he took in the vision of your mouth and that wide open, perfect O of those perfect lips.

“So gorgeous… Soyayya ta..”

He slowly breached your tight hole, and your mouth widened impossibly even more as the stretch almost took you out. It hurt, but it hurt so good, the only positive sensation you’d had in over two years. 

This time, Bucky let you reach back to grasp the base of him, slowing down as he saw the difficulty with which you were having taking him. You adjusted his aim, and he paused, hand on your hip as you spread your cheeks so that he could get inside you. Your eyes met in surprised sensation as he was finally able to slide all the way home. 

“Feel so damn good, White Wolf!”

You started moving faster on his cock as his hands slid up your wiast to your tits, squeezing, groping, making up for lost time.

He was stroking a slow, steady, deep pace, as his metal fingers made their way into your open mouth, pressing down your throat as your tongue swirled around your native metal. 

“So goood….”

You were gagging around his fingers, partly because of his actions, and partly because he felt so good inside you. You reached back and grabbed his shirt, pulling on it as you took his thick cock inside you, looking back at him stretching your tiny hole with awe. You looked into each other’s eyes as you felt him swelling impossibly.

“Love your bald head, but I like this hair, Doll. I can do this…”

And Bucky grabbed your curls, pulling on your roots deliciously and stretching your neck so that he could engage you in a filthy kiss while he drove into you. You separated, gasping for breath.

“Bast! James, is your cock made of vibranium too?”

He laughed at the old joke, which made the rounds of the Dora until you found out the truth.

“You make me feel like it is, soyayya ta.”

Bucky let you go so that you could hold on to the gurney and fuck yourself on his cock.

He grabbed your breasts again and the look of surprised lust came was mirrored on both of your faces as you felt yourself squeezing him with your impending orgasm.

“C’mon, Soyayya ta. Give it to me.”

“James, oh James. Oh….!”

“Good god!”

You bent fully over the gurney when you came, and Bucky had a clear view of your beautiful cream on his cock. That’s when he started pounding you out properly, using you to reach his end. Your senses were so alive that you felt each stream and splash of his cum inside you, and it caused your sensitive cunt to shudder. You lay there under him as he collapsed on top of you, relishing the feel of him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

Bucky kissed your shoulder and down your back as he looked around for something to clean up with. You looked back at him, and stood up, Bucky’s spend leaking down your legs.

“Let me.”

You gave him that look as you bent over, taking his still semi-hard cock in your hand. You stared at him straight on as you took him in your mouth and cleaned him off.

“That mouth, those eyes… you’re killing me here…”

You smiled around his girth and then opened your mouth to let him see the effects of your handiwork.

 “On my life, Doll. I will never get enough of you.”

He pulled you up to standing and leaned down to give you a filthy kiss.

“So glad to have you back in my arms.”

Bucky turned around and leaned on the gurney as he held you. You leaned into him, tears pricking your eyes as you felt the same emotions, but knowing what you had to do. 

“I love you, farar kerkecina…”

You gave him a tender kiss on the lips before you delivered a blow to his vagus nerve. Bucky went out immediately, and you gently laid him on the gurney before you got dressed again.

“I have to finish this with the Power Broker, and I know you will try to stop me.”

You tucked the underwear that you’d cleaned up with into his jeans pocket, trading them for the keys to this asylum.

“We will be together soon, my love.”

You gave him a kiss on his perfect lips before you quickly made your out of the hospital, on your way to kill Sharon Carter for making you the Summer Soldier and taking the child from your belly.

Daga karshe na sameki masoyiyata (Hausa)– "I finally found you my love"

Soyayya ta (Hausa)— My Love

Sygrayem v nashu malen'kuyu igru, kukolka? (Russian)-- "Shall we play our little game, Doll?"

Farar kerkecina (Hausa).… "My white wolf"

[bookishtheaterlover7]

Hello, Fandom!

Recently I've been making steps to write what is probably the longest one-shot of my life. But I'm not complaining, because I actually enjoy writing it, even if that baby is taking three months and counting 😅

But as a writer, without knowing much, except that it involves Steve and Y/N, and tells the story of how she got her enhanced super soldier abilities (no spoilers, because it was part of an ask), would you like to read it as one GINORMOUS fic, or in two parts?

Or will you leave it up to my very indecisive ass to decide alone?😅

I'd honestly love to hear from you, guys...🥹

[awkwardauthorwrites]

Know Who You Are

Previously on awkward-author

Word Count: Just under 1k

Warnings: Probable swear words. Angst. Sad reader.

Authors Note: The song that inspired this is from the film Moana and can be found here. 

If the slamming of a door didn’t startle Steve Rogers from of his sleep, then Nat and her incessant prodding definitely managed to rouse the blond super soldier.

“What happened?”

“Its Y/N.”

I have crossed the horizon to find you.

She was in the fireproof training room Tony had designed specifically for her. Balls of flame flew out of her hands, scorching the targets beyond recognition faster than Steve could register. She was a force to be reckoned with in the state she was currently in. He watched from behind the heatproof, one-way mirrored glass as she blasted through every obstacle that popped up. He knew something was wrong, but until she whipped around to take down the final two planks, he didn’t realise just how bad it was.

Tears streamed down her face, or as far as they could go before they evaporated from her skin. It pained him to see such raw, unconcealed anguish on her features. The despair in her usually bright eyes was suffocating to him, and when she finally dropped to her knees, her energy spent, he silently vowed to do whatever it took to help her. 

“I know you’re there,” she said quietly, her voice barely audible over the noise of the sprinklers. He remained quiet, not wanting to attract attention to himself, but when she glanced up at the reflective surface he knew he couldn’t pretend any longer. Not while her eyes were rimmed red like they were. With a step forward and the flick of a switch, the glass in front of him cleared, allowing her to lock eyes with him.

I know your name.

“Y/N.”

“Rogers.” Her voice was rough, almost as if she had been screaming. Steve wouldn’t put it past her, considering the scorch marks in the ceiling. “Did Nat send you?”

“She was worried,” Steve spoke slowly, quietly, so as not to startle her. “So was I.”

“I’m fine.”

“Clearly.”

Nothing more was said for a few minutes, until the sprinklers finally shut themselves off.

“Am I going to boil if I come in?” he asked, hoping she would smile at his pitiful excuse at a joke. She did, barely, and without humour before gesturing to the door with her head as if to say be my guest. He didn’t waste a second, and stepped into the now-drenched room with a towel as she tried to wring out her soaked hair.

He waited patiently as she attempted to dry her body with the towel and used her affinity for heat to deal with her hair. Silently, he lingered, awkwardly waiting for her to decide whether she wanted to talk to him. Finally, after what felt like hours, she looked up at him once more, the agony in her eyes now covered up with a poorly constructed wall.

“I saw my family today.”

They have stolen the heart from inside you.

Steve didn’t know much about Y/N’s life before he met her. In fact, the only person in this tower who seemed to know anything about her at all was Clint. Despite his retirement from the team, he seemed to constantly hang around the compound, sometimes with his infant child, Nathaniel, strapped to him. Unfortunately, the archer wasn’t currently in the building, and was back at his farm with his family. What little Steve did know, however, was more than enough.

But this does not define you.

“They’re in the city, and asked if they could see me.” She was picking at the loose threads on the towel, seemingly unfazed by the puddle she was still sat in. “I figured it had been so long that it would be okay.” She seemed to roll her eyes at herself before dropping the material in her hands. It quickly soaked up the water at her feet, turning the fabric into a darker, blood red colour. “Turns out they only wanted to see me so that they could brag that I was an Avenger and ask for money. When I said no, they called me selfish, amongst other things.”

“Darlin’...”

“They said I was a monster – a freak of nature – and wondered why you guys had picked me, out of everyone else, when I’m nothing but a mistake.” Steve scoffed and tugged her into his arms for a hug before he could process the action.

“The so-called fireproof room you managed to somehow set on fire would beg to differ.”

This is not who you are.

“You’re not a monster,” he continued, pressing his lips to the top of her head gently as he spoke. She shook in his arms, but he didn’t know if that was because she was cold, or still wet, or a mixture of both. He held onto her tighter in response, hoping that some of his body heat would be transferred on to her. Not that she needed it. “No more than Bruce is, or Wanda, or even Bucky. You’re unique, and special, but your differences aren’t what make you who you are.” Steve could feel his shirt grow damp with her tears as she soundlessly started to cry again. He was at a loss of words, seeing one of the strongest people he knew break down like this. So he did the only thing he could think of, and pulled her just a little bit closer as he ducked his head and pressed a kiss to her temple while whispering something against her skin.

You know who you are.

[witchywithwhiskey]

assembling legos in avengers tower

pairing: captain america!steve rogers x shield agent!female reader

summary: you want to spend a night assembling legos with steve rogers, but when he proves to be too good at it, you have to get creative.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), established relationship, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming, teasing, begging, dirty talk, praise kink, captain kink, pet names (buttercup, daisy, sunflower, honeysuckle), lots of kissing, lots of fluff and silliness, avengers tower shenanigans

word count: 4.9k

a/n: this fic is entirely inspired by a conversation i had with my therapist last week where she was helping me think of things to do to disconnect from social media and give myself a break from the world. i mentioned i had a box of lego daffodils i hadn't put together and she encouraged me to do that. however, i finished those in like a couple hours and now i need more... anyway, i hope y'all enjoy this bit of fluff/smut and i hope it's a nice distraction from the world!! ♡

“A daisy for my pretty girl.”

You were focused on assembling a plastic version of a queen anne’s lace when a pretty pink Lego gerbera daisy appeared in your eye line. Steve Rogers’ comfortingly deep voice and the flower he offered dragged your attention from what you’d been doing and you looked up for the first time in half an hour. 

You were curled up on the couch in Steve’s suite, assembling Legos in Avengers Tower on the rare night off he had from his duties as Captain America. He’d been sitting beside you, working away at his own flowers on the coffee table, but had clearly decided to get your attention with the pink daisy he’d finished. 

For a moment after you looked up from your own Lego flower, you were distracted by just how good Steve looked in a simple white t-shirt and gray sweatpants. He always looked good, of course, but there was something especially delightful and attractive about seeing him in casual, cozy clothes. 

It almost made you want to abandon the Lego wildflower bouquet you were assembling together and slide into his lap. Suddenly, all you could think about was burying your fingers in his soft blond hair and having his sparkling blue eyes focused entirely on you for the rest of the night. But instead, you blinked and refocused on the moment. 

“Aw, thank you, captain,” you murmured, a smile curving your lips as you took the plastic flower from Steve and gave it a pretend sniff while batting your lashes at him. “My favorite.” Your words were little more than a purr, and you couldn’t help the way your smile widened when a pink flush dotted Steve’s cheeks.

It was on the tip of your tongue to suggest that you and Steve leave the rest of the Lego bouquet to be assembled another time, but then your gaze fell on the nine already-finished flowers that were neatly lined up on the table in front of the couch. Your smile fell.

Steve had already put together more than half of the flowers that had come in the box, and you still hadn’t finished a single one. Briefly, you were confused about how he’d put them together so fast—until you remembered something that often slipped peoples’ minds when it came to Captain America.

Everyone knew that Steve Rogers’ strength and stamina were enhanced when he’d been given the super-soldier serum in the 1940s, but most folks forgot that his intellect had been heightened as well. It was why he was the trusted leader of the Avengers—Steve had a knack for strategizing in the midst of battle. 

It also made him a wiz at puzzles. 

You should’ve known that Steve would easily zip through his half of the Lego bouquet while you toiled over a single flower. You knew he was smarter than the world—and even some of the other Avengers—gave him credit for, and you were disappointed in yourself for not thinking through the idea of assembling Legos together.

Fortunately (or unfortunately), Steve was also much more perceptive than most gave him credit for, and he noticed your change in mood immediately.

“What’s wrong, daisy?” Steve asked, cupping your cheek in his large palm and turning your face gently to look at him. 

His brows were drawn together, and you knew instantly that he’d caught the slightly crestfallen look on your face. Before you could muster a smile and assure him everything was fine, Steve went on, his thumbs brushing your cheeks in a gesture so achingly soft, a lump of emotion formed in your throat. 

“Did I do something?”

“No, no, no, it’s nothing—really,” you said in a rush, trying to shake your head and show him that you were being silly. But your reaction only had Steve frowning even more.

Gently, he scooped you up off the couch and deposited you on his lap, arranging your body so you sat across his thighs, your legs curled up while he wrapped one arm around your back. Once you were settled, he cupped your chin in his other hand and tilted your face up so he could look into your eyes.

“Tell me, sunflower, please,” Steve rumbled, his final word a rasping plea that tugged so effectively at your heart, you couldn’t help but do as he so sweetly asked. 

“I just thought we’d spend a little more time working on these together, that’s all,” you mumbled, dropping your gaze to the corner of Steve’s mouth, which was turned down in a slight frown. You wanted to reach up and smooth away that unhappy curve with your fingers, but you knew it wouldn’t work. Steve could be stubborn when he wanted. 

“I’m sorry, buttercup,” Steve said in a hushed, regretful voice, ducking his head and pressing an apologetic kiss to your forehead.

You let out a soft, happy sigh as your eyes fluttered closed and you sank into the warmth of Steve’s body, snuggling deeper into his chest. You were wearing one of Steve’s sweatshirts and a pair of leggings, so you weren’t necessarily cold, but you enjoyed the heat that emanated from him all the same.

“It’s ok, Steve, really,” you whispered, meaning the reassuring words more than you had a moment ago. Your thoughts were already straying to what you and Steve could do with the rest of the night alone in his suite…

You tipped your face up toward his, pouting your lips in a wordless plea for a kiss.

A chuckle rumbled deep in Steve’s chest moments before his lips brushed against yours. You could feel the smile in the gentle press of his lips, and your mouth curved in an answering smile, a giggle building in your chest at how silly the two of you must’ve looked—smiling at each other with your lips pressed together. 

But then Steve’s mouth pressed more firmly to yours, kissing you a little harder and a little longer, and the smile slipped off your face, your fingers curling into the soft cotton of his t-shirt. You tugged him closer as he deepened the kiss, his lips sliding slowly against yours like he had all the time in the world and didn’t want to do anything other than kiss you.

The two of you sank deeper into the kiss together, your bodies growing heated and your hands beginning to wander. A hard bulge nudged against your thigh and Steve groaned into your mouth, and you suddenly had an idea.

Pulling away from Steve, you ended the kiss abruptly, a grin spreading across your face as you watched the big, blond man blink his way back into the present. He looked so cute all dazed out from kissing you that you took a moment to appreciate it before voicing your idea.

“I know how to make it more difficult for you to put Legos together so fast,” you said, your voice slightly wheezing as you worked to catch your breath. “We just need some more Lego flowers.”

Steve’s kiss-swollen lips curved into a smile of his own. “I think we can manage that, honeysuckle,” he murmured, his expression filled with affection as he took in the excitement on your face. “Just one more kiss first.” 

He reeled you in for another slow, drugging kiss, his mouth stealing the smile from your lips, though you were happy to give it to him if he kept kissing you like it was all he wanted to do.

A little later in the evening, Steve’s suite in Avengers Tower was piled high with dozens and dozens of boxes filled with Lego botanicals of all sorts. There were boxes for sunflowers and daffodils, two types of flower bouquets, and even a whole heaping pile of cacti and succulents. 

It was more than you’d ever know what to do with, but Steve looked so pleased with himself, all you could do was smile. If he wanted to spend the rest of his nights off with you, assembling Lego flowers, who were you to complain? It sounded like a dream come true.

“Bought out everything from the Botanical Collection at the Lego store over on fifth,” Steve was saying proudly as he opened a couple daffodil sets, pouring out the plastic packages onto the coffee table while you watched him with amusement. Steve cut his eyes to you and smirked as he said, “I put it all on Tony’s card—d’you think he’ll notice, buttercup?”

You couldn’t help yourself, you tossed your head back and cackled at that. You knew, as a member of the Avengers’ SHIELD support team, that Tony Stark had given all the members of the team access to his credit cards “for emergencies only,” and you were frankly surprised no one else had thought to use it to prank him before. 

When you finally got yourself under control and looked back at the mischievous Captain America, you shook your head at him. Your heart gave a little extra thump of delight when you saw the way Steve was looking at you, with so much happiness and affection, it made emotion clog your throat. It took you a full minute to gather your thoughts enough to answer his question. 

“Nah, there’s no way,” you scoffed, but then you tilted your head to the side and really thought about it. Your eyes trailed over the boxes. There were just so many. 

You figured Tony would leave something boring like financial statements to Pepper Potts, but there might be another way for Steve’s late-night Lego shopping spree to be used as a way to prank the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist…

“Y’know, he might notice something when Lego flowers start popping up all around the tower,” you said slowly, cutting your eyes to Steve and offering him your own impish smirk. “Do you wanna see how many we can put in his lab before he says something?”

Steve’s head tipped back and he gave a great, booming laugh that filled all the corners of his suite. When he looked back at you, his blue eyes were sparkling with playfulness and his mouth was spread in a wide grin. 

“You’re diabolical, daisy,” he rumbled, pulling you closer on the couch so he could catch your lips in a kiss. 

It didn’t last long, both of you were too busy laughing to deepen it, but you did throw a leg over Steve’s thighs so you could sit in his lap. When you finally pulled away, you quirked an eyebrow at him.

“You up for the top secret mission, Cap?” you asked in a deceptively serious tone, the corners of your mouth flickering as you tried to hold back your grin. “You gonna help me prank Tony Stark?”

“Gladly,” Steve declared, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you closer. 

All the evil plans that had been brewing in your mind disappeared when your heated core settled against the thick bulge in Steve’s sweatpants, a delighted gasp tumbling from your lips. Your gaze found Steve’s and a thrum of desire pulsed between your thighs when you saw how much his eyes had darkened.

“But first,” he murmured, his hands sliding up your back beneath the sweatshirt you wore, making you tremble deliciously in his lap. “I’d like to hear more about how you’re planning to make it more difficult for me to assemble all these Lego flowers.”

Steve’s mouth captured yours in a searing kiss and it would be another long few minutes before you were able to actually tell him what you had planned for him.

“Hah! Another daisy done,” you crowed, bouncing a little on Steve’s lap and dragging a deep groan from the man beneath you.

The movement of your body had shifted his cock inside you, his thick, sensitive length dragging against your warm, inner walls, which were hugging him tightly while you exulted in your accomplishment. You’d managed to finish seven flowers since you’d put your plan into action, and you had no idea what kind of progress he’d made.

You did, however, know he was enjoying himself, if his deep moans and muffled groans were anything to go by. There was also the way his cock throbbed inside you every so often, like his body was encouraging yours to move, even though the point of your plan had been to sit still on his lap.

It had come to you earlier in the evening when you’d felt his hard bulge against your thigh—the only way to slow down Captain America’s super-soldier-enhanced intellect was to distract him. And you’d come up with the perfect way of distracting him.

Once you’d explained your plan to Steve, he’d been all too eager to enact it, sitting on the floor in front of the couch and pushing down the hem of his sweatpants so his cock had bobbed free. You’d discarded your leggings and panties before lowering yourself down on his lap, taking his thick, hard length deep into your pussy while you straddled his legs.

For the next half hour or so, you’d been assembling Lego wildflowers on the couch cushions behind Steve’s shoulders and he’d been working away at his own box of daffodils on the coffee table—all while trying not to get distracted by the way your pussy was dripping all over his thick cock.

Leaning back so you could catch Steve’s eye, you grinned at the pinkness in his cheeks and the slightly hazy look in his blue eyes. 

“You doing alright, captain?” you asked teasingly, your fingers trailing along Steve’s sharply cut jaw to turn his head so he’d look at you. His blue eyes were dark with lust as he blinked them into focus, a snarl of barely held restraint in the twist of his soft mouth. “It’s been a little while since you gave me any sort of update on how your flowers are coming along.”

You clenched your inner walls around Steve’s cock on the word ‘coming’ as a way to taunt the large blond man, and were satisfied by the way he grunted in pleasure, his eyes sliding closed. Plastic clattered on the coffee table when his hands abandoned the daffodil he’d been assembling to grab your hips, like he couldn’t stop himself from touching you any longer.

Steve huffed a laugh as he opened his eyes again, catching your gaze and groping your soft flesh a little roughly. He smirked when your mouth fell open and your eyes went heavy-lidded, his strong fingers working their way down to your ass as he kneaded your curves the way you liked—possessively.

“When you said you had an idea to make things more difficult for me, I thought you meant a blindfold, or hiding the directions,” Steve rumbled, his smirk turning playful and mischievous. 

His expression was your only warning, but you didn’t have a chance to prepare yourself. 

“Not this.” He thrust up from beneath you, slamming deep into your dripping pussy.

A moan wrenched free from your lips, pleasure bursting through your body at the friction of his cock dragging against your inner walls, the tip bullying against a spot inside you that had you seeing stars. You collapsed against Steve’s broad chest, gasping for air as you recovered from the single, brutal thrust.

It had been difficult to ignore the constant, throbbing perfection of Steve being inside you while you were cockwarming Captain America, but you’d done your best so that you could make headway in assembling your Lego wildflowers.

And, of course, it had become a stubborn stand-off between the two of you, where you both were holding out on giving in to your bodies’ desires. 

That hadn’t stopped you from taunting Steve, though, and you’d told him there was only one thing he could do that would make you forget about the Lego flowers entirely. He just hadn’t been willing to do it—but you smirked into his neck as you caught your breath, thinking he was finally ready to be done with the stand-off.

“If you want to fuck me, captain, you know what you have to do,” you purred in his ear, pulling away and nipping at his jaw, wringing another tortured groan from the super-soldier. “You just have to admit I’m the best Lego flower assembler in the tower.”

Steve had initially chuckled at your silly demand, playfully telling you he’d only admit such a thing when you assembled as many flowers as him. 

But the way his cock throbbed inside you when you called him ‘captain’ and the way his hands were desperately groping your hips, ass and thighs—any soft part of you he could reach beneath your sweatshirt—told you he had reached his limit. So, his next words didn’t come as much of a surprise.

“You are, honeysuckle, you’re the best Lego flower assembler in the whole fucking tower,” Steve rasped, his hips rocking slightly, like he simply couldn’t stop himself from fucking you even a little bit. His fingers were digging deep into the soft flesh of your body, moving you back and forth to grind on his cock. “You’re the best in the whole city—please, just let me fuck you, sunflower.”

Your breaths were catching in your throat as helpless whimpers and moans tumbled from your lips. The way Steve was jerking your body on his cock, like you were little more than a fuck toy for him to play with, was making your mind melt as heat cascaded through your body, settling heavily between your thighs.

It felt so good—Steve’s cock grinding deep in your cunt, your wetness dripping down his hard length to soak his balls, your clit rubbing against the base of him—that it took your mouth a moment to remember how to form more than unintelligible sounds of pleasure. 

“Yes,” you gasped finally, dragging the word from the depths of your desire-drenched mind. And once you started, you couldn’t seem to stop, your hips rocking into Steve’s, meeting his grinding thrusts as you clung to his shoulders, your fingers buried in his soft hair. “Please, captain—please fuck me.”

“Thank fuck,” Steve growled, wrapping you up tightly in his arms and pounding into you from below. He held you pinned to his broad chest and buried his face against you, his lips mouthing at the soft mounds of your tits through your sweatshirt. “You feel so fucking good, buttercup, so warm and soft and fucking perfect wrapped around my cock.”

“Oh god, oh fuck, Steve,” you babbled, spreading your thighs wider and splaying them further open so that Steve could slam deeper and deeper into your pussy, making your head spin with how good it felt, how wildly perfect it felt to be fucked by him. “You fuck me so good, captain—please, ‘m already so close, Steve—please.” 

Your last word was a desperate, begging cry as your body trembled so violently in Steve’s arms that he had to hold you tighter to keep you right where he wanted you. Pleasure was coiled tightly in your core, and you knew you were seconds away from cumming. It was all you could do to gasp for air as you prepared to tip over the edge.

“Cum for me, pretty girl,” Steve rumbled, lifting his head from your tits to drag his mouth along the line of your jaw until he found your lips. His kiss was so all-consuming, you almost missed the way he tilted your hips so your clit was grinding ruthlessly against his pelvic bone while he rocked up into you. “Cum on your captain’s cock like the good girl I know you are.”

His command was rumbled against your lips before his mouth pressed back against you, his tongue plunging into you and swallowing your sounds of ecstasy as you shattered apart. You were undone by his words and the deliciously perfect way he worked your body.

The sheer force of your orgasm stole the breath from your lungs and you screamed, the sound muffled by Steve’s lips as he eagerly drank down the sound like it was his favorite thing in the world. Wave after wave of heated pleasure washed over your body and you moaned helplessly as your pussy clenched hard around Steve’s cock.

A groan ripped free from the depths of his chest and poured between your parted lips as he followed you over the edge, his hips rutting into you with hard thrusts that had you bouncing wildly on his cock. 

If it wasn’t for Steve’s arms still holding you firmly against his chest, you were sure you would’ve lost your balance, but he kept you right where you were meant to be—on his cock while he emptied his balls into your cunt.

As Steve spilled himself inside you, your hands slid from his hair to hold his jaw in your palms. You kissed him through his release, licking his sounds of pleasure off his tongue and groaning at the delicious warmth that filled your body from head to toe. 

Once Steve’s cock had been milked dry of all his cum, he rumbled a satisfied sound and finally loosened his hold on you. His big hands stroked up your spine and back down again, soothing your body as you relaxed against his chest, your mouths still moving together in an endless kiss. 

Eventually, you pulled away from his mouth and let your head fall to his shoulder as your eyes slipped closed. A happy, contented sigh puffed from your lips and gusted against Steve’s neck, making him tremble slightly.

“So,” you started when you’d finally caught your breath, your heart rate back to normal and matching the steady pounding in Steve’s chest where you were pressed together. “How many flowers did you put together after I started cockwarming you, captain?”

Steve was quiet for so long, you half thought he’d fallen asleep against the couch, but then his hand squeezed your hip and he huffed an exasperated laugh. 

“Three.”

Your cackling laugh was so loud, it filled every corner of Steve’s suite, and a moment later, Captain America’s booming chuckle joined the din to make a wonderful cacophony of joy in your little corner of Avengers Tower. 

It seemed you had, in fact, figured out a way to make assembling legos with Captain America much more fair—and much more fun. 

A week later, Tony Stark stormed into the Avengers Tower conference room where he’d gathered all the superheroes and their SHIELD support team for what he’d deemed an “urgent” meeting. 

You sat next to Steve, his hand on your thigh and his fingers twisted with yours as you tried not to look at each other. Both of you suspected you knew what the meeting was about, and you knew you’d both break if you made eye contact.

It didn’t help matters when Tony slammed a small, potted Lego succulent on the glass table of the conference room, hard enough for the whole thing to tremble. A hush fell over the room as everyone stared at the irate Iron Man.

“Where the hell are all these Legos coming from?!” he demanded, his seething gaze roving the room, making eye contact with every single person who sat around the table. When no one spoke, he went on. “They keep popping up in my lab—and they’re starting to crowd my workstation. So who is it?”

You couldn’t help yourself, you cut a sideways glance at Captain America, and had to press your lips even more tightly together to hold back a laugh. 

Steve’s gaze was filled with so much mischievous amusement, you could feel a laugh clawing up your throat. As you looked at him, Steve let the corner of his mouth flicker in a smirk, and it was nearly your undoing. You looked away before you could snort and give yourself away.

Thankfully, Clint Barton piped up, telling the room he’d assumed Tony had been the one assembling the Lego flowers that had been showing up all over the tower. He noted he’d found them in the kitchen, the gym, both locker rooms, and plenty of other places.

Bruce Banner agreed with Clint, asking Tony if he hadn’t picked up the hobby during one of his latest bouts of insomnia. It would make sense, Bruce reasoned, since most of the Legos seemed to be cropping up in Tony’s lab.

Meanwhile, Thor had plucked the Lego succulent from Tony and was playing with the pieces, pulling them apart and putting them back together. He lifted his head with a goofy grin and nudged Phil Coulson, murmuring something about the tiny building toy being quite fun actually.

At the opposite end of the table, Nick Fury and Maria Hill shared an exasperated look, then began having a hushed conversation among themselves. You caught snippets of intel about the next mission the Avengers were set to go on, but that was less interesting to you than the reason for Tony’s “urgent” meeting so your gaze slide away to see how everyone else was reacting.

Across from you, Natasha Romanoff caught your eye. She flicked something tiny and pink across the glass surface of the conference table, so discretely, no one else noticed except Steve. He caught the pink thing in his hand as it tumbled over the edge toward your lap.

When the two of you glanced down at his open palm, you discovered the tiny pink thing was a Lego cherry blossom from one of the sets you’d assembled and left in the kitchen. 

Looking back at Natasha, she was smirking, and there was an unmistakeable knowing glint in her eyes.

As you watched, though, she pinched two fingers together and twisted them near the corner of her mouth, like she was turning a key in a lock. Her message was clear: Nat knew the Legos were coming from you and Steve, but she wasn’t going to say anything.  

Both you and Steve let out silent sighs of relief. 

The meeting went on for a little longer after that, though it didn’t go anywhere. No one admitted to planting the Lego flowers around the tower, and Tony was still furious that he didn’t know who was behind it. 

Fury finally had to call an end to things when it looked like Tony and Thor were about to come to blows, the former convinced Thor was playing dumb about not knowing anything about Legos while the latter was grinning and egging him on.

Another week passed of Lego flowers and succulents appearing around the tower. Nat had taken to helping you and Steve, sneaking into Tony’s lab while the two of you kept him distracted with speculation about who it could be. Clint caught you leaving a Lego cactus on Bruce’s desk, but he promised to keep your secret and even joined in on the fun just like Nat had.

It wasn’t until the end of the month when Tony called another “urgent” meeting that your prank was finally unmasked. 

Tony had a sheaf of papers in one hand and a video disc in the other, claiming that Pepper had discovered the charges made to one of his cards at the Lego store over on fifth. Apparently, he’d talked the manager into giving him a copy of the security tapes from the night when they’d been purchased, so he was about to uncover the culprit.

Once he’d announced all of this, Tony paused for dramatic effect, giving everyone in the room one last chance to come clean.

That time, when Steve cut his eyes to you, his mouth flickering with a smile, you couldn’t keep it together. Steve and you both lost it, laughing so hard, tears began streaming down your faces while Nat and Clint shared a private, knowing chuckle.

Steve came clean about the prank and admitted it had been you and him the whole time. He even explained how you’d roped Clint and Nat into helping once they’d discovered you—and both of them nodded to confirm Steve was telling the truth, grinning unrepentantly.

Tony took it all in stride, seemingly relieved to finally know the source of all the Legos. He did ask how Steve managed to spend so much money at the Lego store though. By his calculations, not even half of the Lego flowers Steve had purchased had popped up around the tower.

At that question, Steve’s cheeks pinkened a little and he admitted there was still a hefty pile of Lego boxes in his suite. You and him had spent plenty of nights assembling Legos—even when you weren’t getting distracted by cockwarming Captain America—but there were still a lot left. 

Squeezing his hand in your lap, you spoke up with a suggestion for a Lego night, where everyone could get together and assemble some Legos. It could be a fun opportunity of team bonding, you said.

Fury liked the idea so much, he approved it immediately, then wasted no time in calling an end to the “urgent” meeting.

And that was how you ended up spending a night assembling Legos in Avengers Tower with Steve Rogers and the rest of team, laughing and talking and taking a much-needed break from the stresses of the world. It was the first of many wonderful nights.

[antiquarianfics]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Jealousy is a green-eyed monster, or so they say. You’d argue that jealousy is actually a blue-eyed, one-armed, super soldier.

A/N: 1989 (Taylor’s Version) announcement led to this. You’re welcome! Pairing: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Warnings: Swearing, sexual innuendo. Note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to repost or copy my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

—

“Boys only want love if it’s torture.” —Taylor Swift

You are incredibly aware of Bucky Barnes’ infatuation with you. You aren’t blind to his gaze; you aren’t deaf to his words. Bucky Barnes is in love with you—and he refuses to admit it.

You are also incredibly aware of Bucky Barnes’ tendency to distance himself from good things. He is a man who believes he deserves the worst; he is a man who does not believe he is worth loving. Bucky Barnes will accept hate all day, every day. He won’t accept love.

So, clearly, he will not act on his feelings unless it’s absolute torture. Right?

This idea you latched onto days before is what got you into your current situation: flirting obnoxiously with John Walker and letting the man put his hands all over you.

“If this isn’t torture for him,” you think, “it’s at least torture for me.”

You chance a glance at Bucky across the room. He is clearly displeased with the development between Walker and yourself.

Ever since Walker was introduced to Sam, Bucky, and yourself, you were all off put by his overconfident, entitled behavior. You all agree he does not deserve to carry Steve’s shield—he does not deserve to be called Captain America. So, flirting with Walker, you know, is absolutely a sure way to get under Bucky’s skin.

You weren’t quite prepared for how uncomfortable it is making you, however.

“So, what do you say, sexy? Want to celebrate when we win this fight?” Walker flashes you what he clearly thinks is a charming smile.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Bucky tense; his enhanced hearing picking up Walker’s innuendo. You take it to mean your plan is working.

—

“For the love of god, Barnes, just go tell her how you feel. It’s the quickest way to get her to stop talking to him!” Sam berates Bucky. Frankly, he’s sick of this will-they-won’t-they game you and Bucky are playing.

“No,” Bucky says simply, clenching his jaw and causing Same to groan.

“Why the hell not?”

Bucky doesn’t respond.

“She’s trying to make you jealous. You know that, right? She is intentionally torturing you so that you’ll man the fuck up and make a move.”

Bucky glares at Sam.

“That’s not what she’s doing.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sam challenges. “You think she looks happy to have Walker touching her and making suggestive comments?”

Bucky purses his lips and turns to stare at you again. He is keenly aware that you tense up every time Walker touches you and that you clench your jaw whenever he insinuates anything.

“Because I don’t think she’d be glancing over here to see your reaction if she was actually interested Walker over there.”

Bucky shoots Sam another annoyed look before returning his gaze to you. That’s when he makes eye contact with you.

You raise an eyebrow. He keeps his face stoic. You smirk. He scrunches his eyebrows. You keep a watchful eye on him while you stand on your tip toes to reach Walker’s ear, whispering something unintelligible to Bucky.

Walker’s eyebrows shoot up before looking at you with shocked, yet excited, eyes.

“Damn. Yeah. I, uh, I’ve got a good 20 minutes before I have to head out. We can go to my car?”

Bucky’s neck turns red as anger creeps through his body when he catches Walker’s words. It’s the straw that broke the camel’s back, so to speak.

Boys only want love if it’s torture.

—

You inwardly cheer when you see Bucky start towards you with a furious look on his face.

You back away from Walker, pretending to mull over his proposition as you let Bucky reach you.

Bucky shoves Walker out of the way and plants himself directly in front of you. His hands reach to your face, holding either side so gently—a direct contrast to the aggressive demeanor he carried on his trek to you. He leans in and kisses you passionately.

Bucky’s lips on yours is everything you hoped it would be: euphoric. His lips feel pillowy against yours, albeit slightly chapped. The force of his lips connecting with yours is gentle enough not to hurt you but aggressive enough to tell you he wants you. His teeth gently pulling your bottom lip between his makes you weak in the knees, and you can’t help but gasp.

It’s perfect. He’s perfect.

Your arms quickly snake around his neck, eyes fluttering shut. You let him keep control of the kiss—you’d tortured him enough—and only pull away when you desperately need to breathe.

As your lips disconnect, he rests his forehead against your own, but he stays silent.

“Well, hey there, Sarge,” you tease. “That was quite the hello.”

Bucky scoffs.

“Don’t be coy, Doll. I know what you were doing.”

“What was I doing?”

“You know.”

“I don’t. You should tell me.”

“You were torturing me.”

“I wasn’t doing anything to you, Bucky. I wasn’t even talking to you!” You allow your tone to remain playful while you deny any scheming that took place.

“You were talking to him,” he says with disgust.

“I can talk to whomever I please,” you point out.

“Not men who want to take what’s mine,” Bucky grumbles before connecting your lips again:

“Yours?”

Bucky nods, “If you want to be.”

“Obviously. Took you long enough. Can’t believe you made me flirt with Walker to get your attention.”

“Shut up.”

[innorogers]

Eclipse

Steve Rogers x Reader (You / OFC)

Summary: Panic clawed up his throat — you were out there, alone, lost in the grip of something he couldn’t fight, couldn’t save you from.

Warning: Angst / Insecure Steve / Protective Steve / Desperate Protective Steve / MINORS DNI / Fight Scene / This one is a action chapter

Characters: OC, John Walker, Sam Wilson, Sharon Carter, Tony Stark, Maria Hill, Bruce Banner.

Also: Thanks in advance for repost or any feedback ❤️ Let me know if you want to be included in the taglist (DM, comment, repost and tag, whatever works)❤️ You don't need to read the previous chapters but it will definitely enhance the experience if you do.

1: Insomnia | 2: Lucid | 3: Reverie | 4: Nightmare | 5: Awakening | 6: Dusk | 7: Hypnagogia | 8: Lull | 9: Vigil

The fear deep within Steve didn’t go away. Not even with the countless times you made love over the weekend.

He took you so hard, so rough, as if he wanted to take you deep inside him, to bury himself in the depths of your soul and become one with you; or to transform into a protective shield, merged into your skin and flesh, that would emerge whenever you needed him to protect you, guard you, and keep you safe.

But that wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough to wash away his fears to the unknown.

You awoke on Monday to find yourself in a fortress.

The compound had been overridden with the strictest and most exaggerated security protocol the entire campus had ever seen, enforced with military precision.

Steve’s expression turned steely the moment you left home; you could see the shift as he transformed into Captain America the moment he stepped into the command room, returning to Steve Rogers only in private moments with you.

He drove you to the center’s facilities as on a typical day, but this time Sam was waiting at the door to take over and escort you to the lab, where he would only leave if one of his fellow Avengers replaced him, never letting you out of sight. Neither Falcon, nor anyone else left you unguarded. Ever.

“Okay…if I didn’t know better, I’d be seriously freaking out.” Dr. Lin admitted, a little nervous, noticing the continuous Avenger presence. Whether it was Sam, Nat, Clint, even Wanda and Vision—all turned up for shifts. Sometimes, the Captain himself took a shift, posted against a wall or seated on a bench, eyes alert and scrutinizing anyone who might look remotely suspicious.

“Like...What's going on? Is Cap so insecure about that military guy hitting on you that a tracking device isn’t enough? Now we have surveillance?” Robert whispered while working at the station beside you. “Everyone’s kind of freaking out, you know? We don’t usually get this level of attention.” He adjusted a few screws, glancing around. “The R&D nerds being protected by the Avengers themselves? That’s a lot.”

You sighed.

A lot didn’t even come close to describing it.

Steve was so anxious about the whole situation that he even let John Walker hang around you constantly.

“The guy could be an extra pair of eyes,” said Captain America through clenched teeth, his knuckles going white.

As much as he hated to admit it, Steve didn’t detect bad intentions from John Walker—except for the irritating fact that Walker wanted to be the new Steve Rogers, along with all the prestige that came with the title, and to date Captain America’s fiancée.

But Walker’s intentions toward you were genuine, and Steve fully intended to kick his ass once this shitshow was over. So, there was John Walker—a regular in the lab now, much to the nervousness of the white coats. He wasn’t doing much harm, though he did have a habit of touching everything, asking too many questions, and getting even more irritating whenever Steve was near.

John was having a blast testing Steve’s patience, whether by using your mug, leaning in close at your desk, or resting his elbows on the back of your chair, making comments about how good you smelled, if you’d changed your perfume, or saying things like, “Hey, remember the coffee you liked last time?”

All this playful tone, smirking remarks made Steve’s veins practically bulge, ready to burst anytime John came within a meter of you.

And, to add a layer of complexity to the fun, there was Sharon.

The New Era Project was still ongoing, and the Command’s Room had decided to keep things low-key until the UN realized they were on the Avengers’ radar. Diplomatic exchanges would carry on as usual, with Walker playing the role of bodyguard without even knowing it, and Sharon just orbiting Steve and Maria, doing... well, nothing much.

She seemed to sense that the Avengers were only maintaining subtle ties, not actually invested in the project. Still, for her own reasons—personal or moral—she went along with it, and of course, it kept her close to Steve.

So, the results of all these people in your daily life were, besides a few coffee cups broken by Steve and you talking to your plants more than usual due to jealousy and frustration, that your sex life had become, well...better, much better.

Every encounter was charged with tension, jealousy, possessiveness, the urge to claim each other, constant longing, and, on Steve's side, fear and anxiety about a forecasted attack that he didn’t know when it would happen.

And they were…frequent, more than usual.

You already had these crazy weekend sex marathons after Steve discovered your Hydra-given experimented body could bear him, but now…they were happening at any place, any time.

Since that once in the dressing room after the Iron Army attack, the encounters seemed to have upgraded to a whole new level.

He'd take you, in a meeting room from behind, with only pulling down your underwear and unzipping his pants; in the lab’s bathroom when everyone was at their lunchtime; finger fuck you at the parking lot's stairways before leaving the center facilities… and if Walker had joked or played around you that day? Oh boy, you were going to be cumming fast and long. Steve’d drive you crazy, and silencing your cries with his hand so you didn’t scream his name in any public space.

Or the other way around, like that day when he heard you called the guy "John" instead of "Captain Walker" so once you were alone and at home, he made sure that was the only name leaving your lips, and the only one you'd remembered after he fucked you so hard and made you undone beneath, on top, or in whatever position he demanded that day.

And he enjoyed it too.

Sharon’s friendly touches, like her hand on his shoulder or a quick pat? Those would end with you pinning him to the wall as soon as you got home, driving him wild with abandon, letting him lose himself completely with you while cumming in your mouth or anywhere he’d want.

There was once, actually, when Sharon straightened his tie… the night ended with you on top of him, fucking him with such purpose, such intensity, that he swore that was the fastest and most satisfying orgasm he'd had in his life.

But after all the ecstasies and excitements these encounters would bring, there was something deep within Steve that you wanted to soothe, and it was his fear of losing you.

That, was not able to be washed away with any kind of desire and lust.

And you knew, it was only going to be cured with love.

So you were always there.

He woke up to you, his first sight each morning, and his last thought before sleep. You held him close, your fingers weaving through his hair, lips gently pressed to his forehead, your body resting against his, so close it was as though even your fingerprints aligned like two halves of a single puzzle.

You were there, you never made him worry, you never complained about being confined to the limits of the compound, of having surveillance on you 24/7, him shadowing you everywhere, or dealing with John or Sharon.

No. You took it all.

You shared his morning coffee, held his hand through lunch, took his desires whenever, wherever.

You’d look up from your work just to offer him a smile. You’d talk to him, hours and hours, just like the first night you’ve met, sharing with him every part of your life with him—your past, your present, your future. You filled the spaces he feared, quieted the looming dread of the unknown.

You were there.

Just as you promised, together. Always with him, by his side, easing his worries, quieting his fears.

Which is why no one understood how it happened.

It was a normal day, a regular day, actually, like any other.

But it was the beginning of Steve’s nightmare.

One that would haunt him for years. And if…if he had known. If only he’d fucking known.

"I’m making beef stroganoff with baked asparagus tonight.” You announced, sliding some toast into the toaster and flipping through a cookbook. "And your favorite Italian wine.”

"Wow." Steve set aside his iPad. "What’s the occasion?"

"Mmm…” You smirked as you approached with a breakfast tray. "Surprise, surprise.” You kissed his cheek, enjoying the intrigued look in his eyes. "The start of a highly-anticipated weekend?”

"Really?" Steve raised an eyebrow, his gaze steady. He knew you were hinting at something more.

"Um… maybe I’m just in the mood for something romantic, intimate, and… well, that wine was just too good to pass up.”

"I thought wine didn’t have any effect on us.” Steve said, taking a sip of his coffee. "You know, the serum and… your Hydra body. Ugh, I hate saying that...I'm sorry honey.”

"Oh, is that why you drink it all at once?” You didn't even mind the Hydra comment, just teased him, genuinely curious. "Did it even have any effect, at all?”Your eyes brightened. "Woooh, can we test it? Like, let’s grab the strongest bottle we can find and see if we could actually get drunk?”

"Been there, tried that. Didn’t work.” Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "Once Thor brought some Asgardian liquor that really… tickled?”

"Wow… the stuff that aged a thousand years just made you… tickle. Remind me why we’re bothering with the wine, then?”

"Because it tastes good.” Steve let out a laugh and took a bite of toast, winking at you. "Especially with stroganoff. But come on, do tell… what’s the occasion?”

"Nothing." You said with a smile, standing up to clear the table. "Really, just excited about the weekend. It’s finally just… us.”

"Uh-huh.” Steve smiled and got up to help, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your neck. "Babe? You’re a terrible liar.”

You chuckled, not arguing the truth. You really were awful at lying to him. But you knew he’d respect your timing and the little surprise you had in mind for dinner that night. So you just turned around and kissed him back with a smile.

"Do you think beef stroganoff and baked asparagus with cheese would go better with white, rosé, or red?” You asked later in the lab, from your desk.

"White.” Replied Dr. Lin and John in unison, without a second’s hesitation.

"Why does Captain Perfection always get the good stuff?” John grumbled as he picked up random gear from your desk, trying on a glove and aiming it at the wall as if he was about to shoot something. "Aren’t we friends too? Ever consider cooking for us?”

"Amen to that. Captain Perfection gets the special treatment…” Robert hummed, grinning. "Cause he’s the one who can eat without making a scene about his taste buds going wild. Be grateful, John.”He winked at him. "And seriously? I’m her friend; you’re the guy trying to cross the friend zone border and get on Captain America’s nerves.”

"Well, is the horizon close by any chance?” John said as he shot something from the gauntlet. You and Robert ducked instinctively as the rubber pellet bounced off the wall and hit John in the head.

"Yeah, I'll definitely leave my gorgeous, perfect fiancé for the guy who plays with toys and hits himself, Captain Walker.” You laughed, handing him an ice pack. "The horizon is just a step away, soldier.”

"Could you stop that, John? This is a million-dollar development!” Robert complained. "And it’s actually tailor-made for Hawkeye…” but before he could finish, a huge noise came from outside.

The walls trembled, sending deep vibrations through the floor as the lights flickered, casting erratic shadows across the room. Dust and bits of plaster cascaded from the ceiling, catching in the faint, stuttering glow—it felt like the whole building was holding its breath, caught between an earthquake’s shudder and the unmistakable force of an explosion somewhere close.

The air was thick with the scent of singed metal and faintly acrid smoke, adding an edge of urgency to the unnerving silence that followed.

You held your breath.

This is it.

The fear that was haunting Steve. The attack you were all expecting. Your hair rose in alarm, signaling the approaching danger, and a cold dread crept over you.

"Okay… I didn’t do that, did I?” John said as the complete lab was on silence, instinctively moving to shield you behind him. Though he didn’t have the latest updates, he knew the surveillance around this place, and he understood that his role here was to protect you. Something was close—he could sense it.

"Stay close, Illythia.” He said as Dr. Lin also moved behind you.

John looked up. "Yo, little angel with wings? What’s going on?!” He shouted to Sam, who landed near you in a flash.

"Alright, Barn Protocol in R&D001, now.” Falcon spoke into his comms just as the windows and walls transformed into impenetrable steel shields, his gear fully engaged.

The Barn Protocol activated seamlessly, steel panels sliding into place around the lab's perimeter, locking everyone in. Sam and John immediately flanked you, their stances solid and prepared as they followed the Command Room’s orders: Don’t let anything near her, don't let her out of sight, protect and secure, no matter what.

For a brief moment, everything seemed to hold its breath.

Lab equipment hummed softly, the usual chatter and beeping of devices hanging in a strange silence as everyone waited for something unknown.

And then, piercing through the stillness, an alarm—a sharp, almost metallic shriek—sliced through the air, cutting off just as abruptly as it had begun. It was a deafening sound, something that tapped into everyone's senses, as loud as silence.

You winced at the sound, but as it faded, a strange calm settled.

You looked around the lab, about to reassure Sam and John when you noticed… that.

The others.

The usual faces at workstations and benches were all still—too still. Expressions blank, eyes vacant. And then, in a single, eerie motion, they all turned toward you, faces twisted, almost as if possessed by some unseen force.

"Holy shit." Said Sam and John at the same time.

"This is not good." said the Falcon.

"You… you think?! This is not good?!" Robert was panicking. "Should we… I don't know, RUN?"

"We can't. The Barn Protocol is up. These walls are like the Hulk Container; we're in." Replied Sam, as he put an arm before you: “Stay close. Really close.”

Without warning, the rest of people began to move, hands reaching for whatever they could find, beakers, sharp tools, even chairs—anything to use as a weapon. And fuck, this is the R&D 001 Lab, this, was the second advance tools room after The Crib. And here, are the greatest minds of the compound after Stark, Banner, Cho, and You. There was even a fucking lightsaber in hands of some tech guy, like how the fuck does that work?

An unnatural glint filled their eyes as they closed in, their steps synchronized in a way that felt more robotic than human.

Sam and John shifted instantly, bodies tensed, shielding you even closer as Robert ducked behind you, his breathing erratic. You felt the grip of John’s arm as he pulled you slightly back, a low growl escaping him as he sized up the oncoming attackers.

Sam's voice was low and focused. “Alright, Fake Steve, we’re not letting anyone through, got it?”

"You bet your ass we are." said John with his teeth clenched as he pulled out his weapon. "Bring your pretty faces, nerds."

The first swing came fast—a lab tech lunging with a scalpel raised high. Sam deflected the attack with a swift jab to the wrist, disarming the attacker, who didn’t even flinch but came back, jaw clenched, ready to strike again.

As the lab tech lunged again, Sam knocked him back, quickly sidestepping to push you further behind him.

But this was off, way off. These people, most of them, didn’t even pull up weight or go near the gym, but they were quick, swift—they moved like professional assassins trained all their lives, their technique showing black-belt level skill, and they… it was as if they didn't feel pain. Every hit, every punch John or Sam landed back was into a robot with no physical pain.

It soon became a 1 vs 10 scenario, where John and Sam were trying more to survive than defend you.

“What the fuck is going on?!” John hissed, fists clenched as he scanned the room, watching as more people turned toward you and advanced.

“I don't know.” Sam muttered through gritted teeth, blocking another swing. “But whatever it is, it’s messing with their minds.” He shot a look over his shoulder. “Stay close!”

Dr. Lin clutched your arm, his fingers digging in. “They’re like… like they’re under some kind of mind control! Is that even possible?”

John gave a dry laugh without taking his eyes off the attackers. “Oh, so it's a regular Tuesday, right?” He glanced your way. “But you, yo, Lancaster—any ideas here? You usually have something for us in times like this.”

“Give me a second.” You whispered, heart racing as you took in the sight of familiar faces twisted in unnatural rage. “I have no clue what’s causing this or how we stop it…” Your mind was racing, and then you jumped to get your computer.

"I need that sound, the same sound that made them start acting like this. Robert, get yours, come on, get down!" You said as you pulled your laptop and hid under the desk.

Sam caught a thrown chair mid-air, shoving it back toward the approaching crowd, his jaw tight. He threw a quick glance at you, his gaze firm. “Whatever you’re doing, stay safe and don’t move.”

A sharp crash echoed as someone shattered a lab beaker against the wall, sending shards flying. Dr. Lin yelped and crawled to you; he was trying to pull himself together, running the analysis with you. At this point, only your minds and Sam and John's strength working together were the only beacon of hope he had.

“I think… it has something to do with that alarm. Something happened when it sounded.” Robert grabbed his computer too. "I'll run the surveillance sound analysis and make it replay… you think that’d work?"

"I need Jarvis to analyze what happened when… Steve and I were attacked by the Iron Army. I think we were the distraction, and the real security breach happened here." Your fingers were typing faster than usual. "Jarvis, are you there? Get Maria or Steve on the—" Your voice was interrupted by John, who was thrown against the workbench, rolling and falling before you.

"Oh my God!" Robert let out a cry as he continued typing in panic. “Please, someone tell me we’re going to be okay…”

"Any news?!" Captain Walker asked as he struggled to stand up. "Something like your super boyfriend is coming anytime soon?"

"It doesn't matter!" shouted Sam from the other side of the room, he was already opening fire. "Orders are to stay put, protect and secure—even if the world falls apart, we are not leaving this place!”

“It kinda feels like it is!” screamed Robert, covering his ears at the gunshot noises. "Falling apart?!"

"Is that code ready?!" You asked as something exploded nearby, and Sam's wings shielded you all against it. "Robert! Stay with us! Is that code ready?!"

"It can't be! We are blocked!!" Dr. Lin was losing his composure; he was covering his ears and almost crying. "I need to get to the servers and plug my computer in!"

"That's so damn typical!" John replied as another attacker lunged, and he blocked them with an outstretched arm. "Why is it always like that?!"

"Ugh!" The place was chaotic, Sam was covering almost every angle from the air, John was forming the defense line before you and Robert, everything was being used by the geniuses who invented all these weapons and gears. Not to mention, neither the Falcon nor Captain Walker had intentions of really hurting anyone, so it was getting difficult.

You scanned the place, using everything in your power, and suddenly, you spotted something. So you rolled to a nearby desk, quickly opened the under-cabinet as bullets bounced all over the place, and you pulled it out: a prototype of Steve's shield. It was the newest testing unit, but it would have to do.

"Come on!" You grabbed Robert and used the shield to cover him. "John! Cover us!" As you ran with the shield covering you from the rain of bullets, a screaming Robert and his computer into the server's room, John started to fight back whatever was raining on you.

"Come on, come on, come on!" You pushed Dr. Lin inside and locked the door. "Go, go, go, do your magic!" You both rushed into the server's room and looked for the correct one, but out of nowhere, the guard was there, with the same eerie look and stiff action.

“Oh…no, no, no, no…” You and Robert muttered in unison, both instinctively stepping back.

But it was too late—the guy lunged forward, his expression blank and hostile, arms reaching out with surprising speed.

Before you could even think, your body moved on its own: you ducked his first swing, sidestepped his second, and then your hand shot forward, delivering a quick, powerful blow to his chest. In the blink of an eye, you grabbed his wrist, twisted, and swept his legs out from under him with a precision that left him sprawling on the ground in seconds.

You froze, staring down at the guy on the floor, wide-eyed as you tried to catch your breath. Dr. Lin was equally stunned, mouth open as he looked at you with something between awe and excitement.

"Oh my gawd!" You both said at the same time. “I…” Your eyes widened, looking at your hands, still half-raised in a defensive stance. “I could do that?!”

“Dude…” Robert replied, eyes darting from you to the unconscious lab tech at your feet. “…Since when…?”

“I don’t know!” You interrupted, still in shock. “I didn’t even know I could do that! My body just… acted on its own.”

“Well… whatever it was, remind me not to mess with you. And also warn Steve, just in case. Or John,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh god, ok, the code?!" You said, remembering both Sam and John were fighting for their lives out there, and pushed Robert toward the server machines.

"Oh, okokok!" Robert rushed into the server machines.

The moment he plugged in the laptop and entered the code, you had a bad feeling, but the instant he hit enter, the sound that transformed all the people out there echoed through the room.

And everything went black for you.

The chaos took about an hour to subside. Not that John or Sam knew anything about it; they just stuck to the protocol and stayed inside the lab with a floor full of unconscious staff, until Steve kicked the door down (or maybe just made a hole in the wall while breaking in) and arrived, his face a mask of panic that only disappeared when he saw you, still locked in the server room with Dr. Lin, and John guarding the door.

Both Commander Hill and Captain America looked rough—not injured (it would take more than an explosion or an army of aliens to scratch them)—but still, they were covered in ash and dust, with bruised knuckles and fingers, a few burnt hair strands, and the remnants of a room that had exploded in their faces.

Steve was panting; after the containment of the explosion in the Quantum and Space Exploration Division, he had run to where you were, ready to throw himself into battle but unwilling to lose sight of you.

“Containment Operations, Protocol 14 in place.” Commander Hill announced into her comms as the walls of the Barn Protocol lifted. She gasped at the sight: a room full of unconscious techs, the lab littered with bullet holes from Sam and John’s weapons, most of the development prototypes destroyed after being repurposed as attack machinery, an injured Sam with a broken wing, and a bloodied John standing guard at the entrance to the server room.

“Where is she?!” Steve demanded, as the team behind Maria sprang into action. Protocol 14 meant everyone needed medical care, inspection, and interrogation; no one was leaving.

“There, in the server room. John is at the door.” Sam said, nodding toward you. Steve exhaled in relief when he saw you through the glass, sitting on the floor next to Dr. Lin, who was still typing on his computer, with John guarding the locked door behind him.

“Oh, thank God…” Steve murmured, covered in cold sweat, rubbing his face as his heart finally slowed. He steadied himself. “Okay, walk me through it.” What a fucking mess. He began walking around the wreckage with Sam.

“There was a sound just after the Barn Protocol activated,” Sam said, frowning as he surveyed the unconscious staff scattered across the lab. “And these guys…” He sighed. “They just…activated.”

“Activated?” Steve’s expression darkened. “How?” He looked down at one of the techs. “That’s James Farber.” Hesaid, bewildered. “He’s been here all his life. He was with Tony back in Howard’s days. He’s core staff, Level 1. There’s no way he’s a…spy or…” He ran a hand through his hair. “A threat.”

“I don’t know,” Sam replied, his face serious as he crossed his arms and exhaled. “They fought like professionals, swift and precise, like trained killers—or puppets.” He looked at Steve, his expression tense.

“This is fucked up, Cap. All it took was a sound. Dr. Lin and I…we played it back to test…” Sam said as glanced at the server room, his face suddenly paling. “Where is she?”

A chill ran down Steve’s spine as he turned and saw the empty spot where you had been. He ran to the door. “Robert!”

Dr. Lin nearly jumped out of his skin at the shout. “What?”

“Where is…?”

Robert looked around in confusion, fear flashing in his eyes. “She said she was going to look for you…”

Steve didn’t wait for more. He tore out of the lab, scanning frantically, fear and panic flooding his veins, drowning him in limitless dread.

His comm crackled to life, and for the first time, John Walker’s voice, panicked and raw, called him by his name. “Steve?!”

Steve could hear the same background noise in Walker’s comm—he was close, his voice desperate. “I’m following her! But…that’s not her!” John’s voice was frantic as he followed you, watching you move with unsettling speed, every step driven, unwavering.

“She’s too fast, damn it. Get the cameras, the drones, whatever you have, now!”

“I’m on it!” Maria’s voice responded, and in an instant, the entire facility surged into action. Cameras, scans, drones, perimeters, doors, alarms—all the 1287 security protocols she had sprang to life around you.

“She’s at your six! Go straight!” Maria directed Steve, and he broke into a run. Five hundred feet—just ten seconds at top speed, but you were nowhere to be seen. “Where?!” He was loosing his shit.

“What?” Maria’s voice faltered as the red dot tracking you vanished from her display, dread pooling in her stomach. “We’re being overridden…”

“What? Talk to me!” Steve’s voice was almost a shout, his panic unmistakable. “Walker! Where are you?”

“I’m at the parking lot!” John’s voice was breathless as he ran. “Where the hell are those bots?! Why is your girlfriend so fast?!” He weaved between parked cars, his eyes locked on you, but in a blink, you were gone.

“Illythia?!” John’s voice echoed through the empty parking lot, and Steve heard his labored breathing over the comms. Steve had never been so afraid in his life.

"Where are you?!" In the parking lot, John was still looking for you. He took a few steps around, assessing, then abruptly stepped back as his military instincts kicked in.

He moved just in time to avoid your first strike. The hypnotized techs had been fast—but you…you were lethal. Every move of yours was precise, each sweep of your palm and strike of your hand cutting through the air like sharpened blades, aimed directly at Walker with the cold precision of a trained assassin. His arm went numb as he blocked your strike with his elbow, barely deflecting the impact.

Holy shit. So this is what a Hydra assassin looked like. John had heard the rumors, and the realization struck him hard.

Now he was grasping the scale of your abilities, the enormous gap that separated him from you in skill and intent. Fighting you was like fighting a machine designed solely to kill.

He clenched his fists, steadying himself.

"Alright. Whoever the fuck you are…" He growled, bracing against the rush of your next attack.

"You are not taking her, not on my watch…"

You advanced swiftly, not giving him a chance to react. He managed to parry one of your strikes, but the force sent him staggering back. Your movements were relentless, each strike calculated, swift, and brutal. John ducked a sharp jab aimed at his throat and countered with a low sweep of his leg, hoping to unbalance you.

But you were quicker. Twisting mid-movement, you spun out of reach and closed in on him again, your eyes cold, unreadable.

“For someone who didn't want to date me at all…” John panted, trying to find an opening, he tightened his stance, his focus sharpening.

"Looks like we are finally getting our first dance huh…"

You launched a kick toward his chest, but he dodged to the side, finally managing to slip an arm around your waist, trying to pin you down. In a heartbeat, though, you broke free, twisting sharply and catching him with an elbow that left him gasping.

Steve tore down the hallway, his heart hammering like it was about to burst from his chest, each step fueled by the sickening fear curling tighter inside him. His mind screamed with desperation, imagining the worst. The thought of not getting there in time, clawed at him with a panic so raw it drowned out everything else. He pushed himself harder, faster, his breaths ragged, almost choking on the terror that something could already be happening, that he might be too late to stop it.

Deep down in his soul, he knew it.

Someone, something, was taking you away.

The little dance between you and John continued fast.

John steadied himself, swallowing against the sharp sting in his throat.

Shit, you were good, you were so damn good. Your movements were cold, mechanical, each step deliberate, your eyes devoid of any recognition, fixed on him like a target.

He barely had a second to brace before you struck again, faster, more precise, as if every muscle in your body was wired to a single, ruthless command.

John dodged, blocking with his forearm, but the force of your blow sent a painful shock up his arm.

“Come on, wake up!” Heyelled, desperation leaking into his voice, hoping his words might break through whatever had its hold on you. But you were relentless, undeterred. You struck again, a perfectly angled jab aimed for his ribs, which he just barely managed to sidestep, the movement costing him balance.

In a single, fluid motion, you enhanced your powers, layers of the room revealing themselves in sharp detail, peeling away until something glinted in the corner of your vision—something small and dangerously sharp embedded within a cracked console panel nearby. You lunged, grabbing the object, its cold weight steady in your palm.

With swift brutality, you slashed toward him, and John blocked, feeling the sharp edge graze his arm, blood blooming where it sliced through his sleeve. He gritted his teeth, pushing back with all his strength, his eyes searching your face, finding nothing of the person he knew.

And in that hesitation, you moved so fast, he didn't even see you. It was only one ruthless, calculated strike as you slashed across Walker’s throat.

The edge met his skin with precision, blood trickling down his neck. John staggered back, clutching his throat, his face twisted in pain and shock.

“Shit…” He choked out, voice raw as he tried to steady himself, his fingers pressed hard to stem the bleeding. His eyes darted around, frantic, searching for you, but you were gone—melted into the shadows, disappearing as swiftly as you'd struck.

And then Steve was there, his breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps as he rounded the corner, barely taking in the scattered debris and overturned tables before his gaze locked on John.

His heart lurched painfully at the sight. Blood trickled from John’s neck, his hand pressed against the wound, his face pale and strained.

“John!” Steve shouted, rushing over, barely keeping the quiver of fear from his voice.

John could only shake his head, gritting his teeth as he fought through the pain.

"Where is she?!"

“…Gone,” John managed to get out, a grimace tightening his face as he met Steve’s terrified gaze.

The realization struck Steve hard, fear gripping his chest with an icy hand. It shattered his world in an instant.

Everything he’d known, everything he’d fought for, had slipped through his fingers in a single heartbeat. He felt a cold, numbing dread spread through his chest, rooting him to the spot, every breath a struggle against the crushing weight of helplessness.

Panic clawed up his throat — you were out there, alone, lost in the grip of something he couldn’t fight, couldn’t save you from.

It was like watching a part of himself walk into darkness, and he couldn’t follow. For the first time, Steve felt fear not just for you, but for himself—he was in hell now.

The End but TBC

Continue to:

Chapter 11: Veil

And that's a wrap for Chapter 10! I can't believe we are in chapter 10 already! Ugh but this is when the angst starts :3 All i could think when I was writing it was: OMG should I do this?? How could I do this to him...but then, I thought about mix it up a little of action like all MCU movies does ;) I enjoyed writing the fight scene with John so much, hope you liked it reading too!

I'll try to post every friday, but maybe next one will be Chapter 1 of another series, will see, stay tuned! :)

Love.,

Moon

Tag list: @vioplay19 / @jamneuromain / @steviebbboi / @heletsmelovehim / @otterlycanadian / hisredheadedgoddess28

*can you let me know if I've missed anyone in the taglist? thanks <3

[buckyarchives]

Day After Tomorrow

pairing: bucky barnes x sick!neighbor!reader

summary: enhanced hearing is both a blessing and a curse. eavesdropping, loud music, footsteps and when your sweet neighbor has been coughing her pretty head off all day.

author note: i’m sick and binging twilight so blame that for this being created.

w.c: 3.6k

The last time Bucky remembers living on his own was – well never. Romanian doesn't really count in his mind because he definitely was not mentally aware then, not himself, on autopilot, whatever you want to say. Even before hydra and before the army, it was him living under his mom's roof and then a small apartment with Steve before he got shipped off to sleep like sardines in camps.

Then we all know what happened next. Pretty much getting coddled by Captain America, on a leash by the government, or asleep in a cryo chamber in princess Shuri’s lab.

So when Bucky finally got snapped back, a pardon on behalf of Steve Rogers – before he quite literally abandoned him. Sam was there at least, Sam didn't make him feel shitty for not being the old Bucky because Sam first met him when he was literally trying to shoot him in the head. So you can only go up from here.

Sam helped him find an apartment, Brooklyn was the only requirement, and he delivered. They went to IKEA, which is amazing by the way. Bucky thinks it's the best thing to come from the continent of Europe. They bought the necessities, a couch, a bed (it's been 6 months and bucky still hasn't touched it but doesn’t matter), a coffee pot, and one plant. It was a succulent and apparently impossible to kill, Sam said it would liven up his apartment. But it was hard to do that when his curtains were always shut.

The best thing about the apartment complex was it was mostly filled with old people, Bucky got along with old people well. And they were all pretty quiet and nice. There were a few other college students that lived there. Bucky heard they were all medical students and probably picked the cheapest place to live close enough to campus. Their music was loud sometimes and they stayed up late but minded their business for the most part.

Then there was the girl across the hall. He only saw you a few times, the first time he thought you were one of those beautiful girls he'd see in the magazines they smuggled on camp. You left your apartment at the same time as Bucky did, you had a bag slung over your shoulder like you were going to work or school. Bucky watches you intently, Sam would probably call him creepy for staring, but Bucky couldn't shake the fact you were the most beautiful woman he's seen.

And as you turned and gave him a small pursed smile, Bucky tugged his sleeve down. A habit from his anxieties, also the paranoia that everyone knew. “You just moved in?” you asked him, Bucky wasn't expecting a conversation now. But that was part of being a functioning human, so he gulped down the lump in his throat and curled into himself. Making him as small and less intimidating as possible.

“Yeah.” Bucky nodded, god this was awkward but he couldn’t even fathom anything else to say to you. He was horrible at this.

But you were a godsend of a human and gave him the warmest smile, “I'm surprised more people haven't moved in since everyone came back. We’re you– uh, blipped? Is that what people are calling it?”

Bucky wanted to smile, but it just didn’t translate from his brain to his body and he was scared it would look creepy. “Yeah, I was blipped. Were you?”

“No, I wasn't. But I’m sorry that happened to you, if you need any help re-adjusting I’m right here.” you offered, gesturing to your door. Bucky sucked in a hard breath, it was weird being offered help. Weirder for a total stranger to pity him for what happened, if only you knew the full picture. It didn’t stop from pulling at his heartstrings as he stood absolutely dumbfounded in front of you.

You weren't scared off though, despite how utterly awkward and creepy Bucky felt standing in there, shifting on his feet and not responding. He had to rack his brain for the words of gratitude.

“Thank you.” he choked out, and you just fucking smiled again and Bucky felt like he was going to cry. “And I'm uh- I’m James, by the way.”

“Y/N, Don't be a stranger,” you said, before bidding him goodbye and waving him off as you disappeared down the stairs.

Bucky probably stood there for another minute or two just kicking himself for how horrible he was at talking to girls.

Bucky only saw you a few more times after that, some stuck out for than others.

It was way too late to be up, but Bucky was practically nocturnal at this point, a fucking vampire that winced when Sam barged into his apartment to pull back the blinds so he’d get an ounce of vitamin D.

Bucky had a basket of all blacks on his hip, the complex has a laundry room since none of the apartments had one. You would put money in a little machine and it would give coins you could only use on another machine, not to mention they got jammed half the time and stole your money. Bucky thought it was stupid.

He stopped dead in his tracks at the bottom of the stairs. The familiar head of hair threw clothes into the dryer and slotted the coins into the machine, they didn’t get jammed. Bucky tried to ignore your presence, maybe it would have been more polite to greet you.

Throwing his clothes in the machine and followed the usual routine, except Bucky heard the coins trickle down and get stuck. Fuck. Bucky pressed the button with his gloved hand, mostly out of frustration. Nothing happened.

“Hey, let me.” a soft voice spoke from behind him, a light pressure on his shoulder as you touched him. Bucky tensed at the touch, you didn't notice but Bucky moved away from you. “These old things barely work anymore, you just got to give them some tough love.”

Bucky just watched as you banged on the machine, if Bucky did this he might have broken it. He heard the metal clink down and you pushed the start cycle and it began to work just fine.

“That's easy, huh? Lost probably a total of 10 dollars and I just needed to punch it.”

You laughed and it felt like heaven in his chest, “you just have to outsmart the machine.” you snarked, lifting yourself onto one of the vacant machines and waiting for your cycle to be done. You wore a small shirt and a small pair of sleep shorts. Bucky felt hot by the amount of skin you were showing. Fuck, what was he? 16 again?

“I’ve had a lot of doing that recently.” Bucky said, almost murmuring to himself but you listened.

“I bet, catching up on what? 90 years of technology – must be hard,” you said so plainly like it didn't make Bucky’s head stop. Popping his head up with a panicked face.

You did know… and you didn't run. Weird.

“You know me?”

You swung your feet innocently, a small grin on your face as you pushed your hair away from your face. Cute. “James, I had to do a paper on the howling commandos in middle school.”

“Really?” he asked, genuinely surprised. He sometimes forgets he’s famous for other reasons than being a world-renowned assassin.

“Yeah, and I keep hearing the two girls that live down on floor 2 gossiping about you.”

Bucky’s face dropped. “Gossip, huh? Bad or good.”

Probably bad, it’s always bad.

You bit your cheek, wondering if you should lie and spare him the horrid memories. “Mostly they were devising a plan to get the falcon– caps number from you. They also think you look like James Dean.”

Bucky knew James Dean. Pop culture wise he started in the 50s, so he knew him enough.

“I think that's the best compliment I've ever gotten,” Bucky said, a slight quirk on his lips. You hadn't realized how blue his eyes were until you started to get trapped in them, only being ripped away when the ding of the machine made you flinch.

“Well, I’ll make sure to relay your gratitude,” you said, throwing the rest of your clothes into the hamper.

Bucky wanted so painfully for you to linger and wait till his cycle was done, to talk to him about your day so he could know more about the mysterious, beautiful girl across the hall. Maybe you could walk back together, Bucky would offer to carry your basket because he does still remember to be a gentleman.

Maybe Bucky was just grasping onto the thought of not being alone.

but you smiled at him so warmly, waved, and turned your back but god- he just wanted to keep you in place. to stay. He wasn’t sure what came over him but he felt empty when you left. so weird.

Bucky finished his laundry in silence and made sure to lightly (light for him) bang on the dryer after he put the coins in.

it surprisingly didn’t take long for you to run into him again, in the lobby. laundry room, again. the halls and weirdly, he saw you ordering an iced americano at the coffee shop across the street.

you two became… acquaintances. That's how Bucky would describe it.

Bucky was not a creep, or a stalker. He was just caring and very curious. it was also kinda unavoidable with his super soldier hearing, but he heard everything. He's pretty much got a pretty good idea of your music taste, always some indie or punk rock playing during the day, softer music during the night. He heard 40s music once and almost went feral trying to hold himself back from knocking on your door.

He heard the television when you watch shows, or when you get into heated conversations with people over the phone (those get very interesting at times). Bucky had heard you having a life crisis as you shoved all your furniture around at 2 am and decorated the walls. He also hears when you have people over, oh how shitty he felt with himself when he realized you had a boy - a date over. jealousy was a newer emotion, maybe it was even envy.

and now as the winter season rolls around and the city gets colder, Bucky sometimes forgot about people getting colds or head flu. serum and all. Recently, Bucky's heard nothing but sneezing and coughing from his next-door neighbor. He was worried, is that creepy?

So much so that he ran down to the local Thai place, and he went there often. They had really good food. Bucky passed the bright red and green lights for Christmas, the snow coated the ground and he gained a few odd looks from passersby at the little amount of clothing he wore.

Bucky Barnes had a plan, you knew he was… enhanced. So the whole hearing you thing wouldn’t be that creepy? maybe. Either way, he was going to “coincidentally bring home leftover food that he will oh-so-graciously let you have while he makes sure you're not dying of a head cold.” because he worries

his hand hovered over the wooden door, a moment contemplating if this was a bad idea. but before he knew it the echoed sound of knocking filled his ears and he heard you padding your feet toward him.

Yeah, you looked horrible. red nose, bedhead, and dark eyes m. you looked incredibly pale too, there looked to be no life in you.

“hey, James!” your voice was raspy but you tried to sound cheery and happy despite how much you felt like dying as you stood up. “what are you doing?”

“I’ve been hearing you cough your head off for the past day, and I brought home some leftovers for you. Can I come in?”

you looked utterly astonished. your eyes glanced up and down and back at the bag of food. Bucky noticed the way you were swaying on your feet and grasping at the door frame. you needed to sit down.

“uh, yeah. I just- I don't want to get you sick.” you worried, but still moved out of the way slightly for Bucky.

“Don’t worry, doll. perks of that serum.” Bucky chuckled, your face relaxed and you showed him to your kitchen.

“Oh, right.”

Bucky followed and set the plastic bag on the counter, going through and grabbing the two containers of soup. He noticed the photos stuck to the fridge, pictures of you with friends and smiling wildly. his heart warmed. Bucky also didn’t miss the messy couch, from the fleece blankets, stray tissues and glass of sprite. you’d been officially camping out there for the last few days.

“Do you want something? tea, water, alcohol if you're in the mood.” Bucky turned around to see you reaching on your tippy toes for the cups. He jumped to grab it out of your hands and push you away.

“Hey, you’re sick. go sit down.” Bucky said, you frowned slightly.

“I don't want to be rude,” you whine.

“you’re not rude, you're sick.” Bucky pressed his hands to your shoulder and sat you down on the island's barstool.

“The lady at the Thai place said this could help with a head cold.” Bucky explained, pushing the soup towards you. He found the silverware drawer on his third guess. “supposably it’s jacked up on chili peppers and ginger, so it’s spicy.”

your hand shakes slightly as you bring it to your lips, “mhmm, good. you try.”

“no, it’s for you.”

“James, grab a spoon and try it,” you state, sliding the bowl over to the brunette.

Reluctantly, Bucky takes another spoon and brings the liquid to his lips. you laugh loudly at his reaction, he winced as the soup goes down his throat. coughing wildly at the spice.

“It’s not that bad!”

Bucky speaks through coughs, “I don't like spice.”

“more like can’t handle it obviously.” you snark, snatching the bowl back from him.

“poor kids in the 40s didn’t have much more than salt and pepper, doll.” Bucky says as if it's the most obvious thing ever. but it was hard to remember when he still looked like an attractive 30-something-year-old. You chuckle under your breath.

“Well, it’s time to build up to your tolerance, Barnes.” you bring the spoon up to his lips, and Bucky flushes a light pink. he hopes - prays that you think it’s just from the chili pepper.

Bucky shakes his head, “I'm not a masochist, eat your food. I spend the army’s good money on that.”

you smile at the light jab, letting the liquid run down your throat. a satisfied hum leaves you, Bucky makes a mental note to get you the dish again.

Bucky let you eat in peace, finding his way around your kitchen after having to reject your offer second to host him, again. he found the tea bags and kettle and started boiling water, as his hand grasped around the handle to pour the water into a “Ohio is for lovers” cup Bucky was hit with a weird distant yet familiar feeling. the feeling of normalcy and comfort he’s so avoided for decades.

it was the closest thing to how he felt in Wakanda, but better. because he was a charity case in Wakanda, this was normal. in a small New York apartment, caring for a sick girl by feeding her Thai food.

Bucky had to snap himself out of it before you started to get creeped by him staring daggers into your tea. his eyes shot up to you, your hand massaging your shoulder with a twisted face.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. just a knot in my shoulder from playing dead on the couch.” you laugh and wave it off, but bucky’s already rounding the island towards you. He motions to your right shoulder, tapping at your fingers where they dig into your skin. “oh no, it’s okay.”

“Just let me. I used to have to get the knots out of a young pre-serum Captain America once." Bucky says, digging his thumb into your shoulder. you instantly tense, Bucky lets off the pressure as you relax into him. slowly building it up. “Little punk had horrible posture, he’d sit on this bench in bridge park and just draw for hours while I did laps.”

Bucky laughs to himself in reference to the distant memory, he left out the part where he hid the fact he was exercising for the army — and hiding it from Steve. you smile warmly with him, “I can't imagine the shock of seeing your 5 '4 childhood best friends look like — like, uhh.”

“like Captain America?”

“yeah, like Captain America.”

Bucky hums, “well, I first saw him like that when he rescued me from the POW camp. was jacked up on hydra drugs and thought I was hallucinating,”

a soft mewl comes from your lips as Bucky gets his thumb around the knot in your shoulder, your head falls down onto his chest lightly and another moan leaves you. Bucky tugged at his bottom lip as he glanced down at you, gulping down his nerves and having to physically tear his eyes from you before he started to get the wrong idea.

too late though. you made a soft noise again and Bucky thought about what it would feel like to have you make more of these noises, but with Bucky's hands elsewhere. anywhere else.

“There, you got it. thank you.” you breathed a harsh breath and push away the half-empty soup.

“done?” Bucky pushed himself away from you.

“mhm.”

Bucky feels a weird sense of deja vu while taking care of you, it’s nice - deja vu - it means he remembers. remembers taking care of Steve like this. Bucky puts the dishes away, he’ll offer to clean them later. you're sipping at the tea he made, bucky's eyes glance to the living room. the television was paused in the middle of a movie, and your shoulder began to sag again.

“What movie were you watching?” Bucky asks.

“uhh,” you smile shyly, glancing from the screen to Bucky. “Twilight.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows, showing no recognition of the name. Once again you forget you’re technically talking to a 100-year-old man that probably was too busy being brainwashed to watch Twilight at the peak of its fame.

“oh! it’s some stupid vampire-werewolf movie, it was really popular like 10-15 years ago. kind of iconic.” you laugh quietly.

“perfect. you need rest and I need to catch up on the 20th century, yeah?”

-

“Where the hell have you been, loca?” you whisper under your breath, laughing to yourself at the stupid line.

Your head lay comfortably on the armrest of your couch, Bucky sat across from you and was currently being used as a footrest. He took the position proudly and traced circles into your calves, you tried to ignore the blush and goosebumps on your skin when he did.

“do you know every line?”

“My niece was obsessed with these movies when she was little, every weekend we had to rewatch one of them.” you scoff, “so yeah, kind of.”

Bucky snorts, scrunching his face up when Jacob shrugs off his t-shirt. “Also, why doesn't Bella just get over Edward and get with Jacob?”

The only women Bucky has genuinely feared in his life were his mother, Steve’s mother, and Natasha. you were suddenly added to the list when your gaze turned to him, mouth gaped open lightly as you looked at Bucky as if you were going to kill him.

“Did I say something wrong?” he asks innocently.

“Please don’t tell me you’re team Jacob.”

“Team Jacob?” Bucky wears his confused face again.

“Team Jacob and Team Edward. Which one are you on?” your eyes shoot daggers at him as he scrambles for an answer.

“I think Jacob.”

you open your mouth wide to argue, explain that their entire relationship dynamic and why Bucky is wrong. but you don’t, you just give him a death glare and slowly gaze back to the television. “you’ll change your mind.”

Bucky smiles. He thinks you’re cute, too cute. “Okay, who would you date?”

without skipping a beat. “easy. Carlisle.”

“Really?”

“mhm, but Jacob with the long hair is really hot.” you smile, “shame he cut it.”

“So you like a guy with long hair?” Bucky teases, ready to exaggeratedly brush his hair behind his ears to tease you more. then remembering he cut it. shame.

“Maybe,” you smile. “didn’t you have long hair?”

“used to.”

you look at him intently, like you were imagining him with the grown-out brunette hair. other than the fleet pictures and videos you saw of him on the news back in 2014, when he wore a dark mask and even darker eye makeup.

you hum contently, like the image pleased you. “You should grow it out again.”

Bucky felt dizzy when his eyes met yours, he couldn’t pull away even if he tried. “maybe.”

nodding, you were content with that answer and gazed back to the screen. by the end of the movie you were dead and passed out and those plans to get him caught up on Twilight would have to resume later.

Bucky thought for a moment. If the first person he grows a normal, non-superhero, 21st-century relationship with was you. He'd be happy ending up here, not grief and trauma filled with Steve leaving and what hydra did. no — maybe, grateful even if it was just moments like this with you.

Gently, Bucky laid another fleece blanket over you and did your dishes, put away the leftovers, and turned the screen off. it was weirdly domestic, it warmed his chest.

if Bucky wanted to be hopeful for once, maybe he would try for something more than just neighbors or acquaintances.

-

feedback and notes make the world go round, thank you for reading <3

tag list: @ivywasmaroon @ozwriterchick @slytherinambitious @wintermischief @silverfire475

[talesofadragon]

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐬

Synopsis: Receiving wind that Hydra has successfully managed to awaken another wave of winter soldiers, Captain America appoints his two best avengers, Bucky Barnes and Y/N Y/L/N, for the job. But aside from Bucky’s trepidation at reliving his worst memories, there’s something else rooting him in his place–the fear of inflicting harm on the woman he loves the most. Between her encouraging words and his violent past, what will happen when Y/N is forced to encounter her boyfriend’s alter ego?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

Warnings: Angst. The Winter Soldier and Bucky existing in one body. Hurt/Comfort

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐬  Masterlist | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 the Soldat’s head. Darker than the cell he had been confined to, denser than the Hydra womb that held him before his birth.

His memories ebbed and flowed like shifting tides, tugging at his subconscious. Sometimes, he overexerted himself, forcing the memory of Y/N’s torture to the forefront of his mind to ensure that whenever Bucky resurfaced, he would never forget his vices.

The shifts happened without warning. His awareness was elusive as he trod the thin line between being an Avenger and a Hydra Asset, time passing around him in cycles he couldn’t track. Bucky didn’t know if he resisted or resigned himself to his punishment. It was all a blur. So, when he blinked back the haze and found himself standing before a door, he grappled with consciousness enough to realize two things:

One, the soldier had been momentarily drowned.

Two, Bucky was no longer in his cell.

Bucky blinked languidly, struggling to raise his lashes enough to dispel his stupor. He scanned the hallway, eyes roving the expanse of a familiar space. There stood a man, he noticed, blond and bulky. A soldier, he thought to himself until his mind whispered a name. Steve.

Steve stood a few feet away, arms crossed, veins protruding. A woman stood beside him, her short stature belying the fierce energy emanating from her fiery red hair. Enigmatic and strong, she was the embodiment of intensity. Red Room, he recalled immediately. Romanoff came after.

“Where am I?” Bucky questioned, the thin thread of his consciousness studying the two for any sign of injuries. Neither sustained more than days-old lacerations, easing his dichotomous mind. They regarded him idly, almost as if they didn’t know how they were supposed to feel.

Bucky’s thoughts weighed on him, visions and discordant memories playing in a loop. He was ready to surrender to the Soldat’s call until he heard Steve say, “Why don’t you go inside and find out?”

There was a spark of recognition or a warning sign at Steve’s words. Whatever it was, it forced Bucky’s focus afloat. His legs moved, crossing the distance between the hall and the door in less than two seconds, leading him into a large room bathed in the smell of antiseptic and medication. A hospital room.

He panicked then. His mind, so distraught, couldn't decide which persona should take control. His once steady hands shook, tremors shooting from his fingertips up his arm. Leave, his mind ordered. But he couldn't even interpret the meaning of that single word.

While his thoughts were in a frenzy and his body in unbridled mania, his eyes were transfixed on the hospital bed, specifically, its occupant, who greeted him with the same warmth she had always dedicated to him.

Inviting Y/E/C eyes and a winsome smile tore through his inhibitions when Y/N whispered one word that threatened to tear his soul apart, “James.”

She was a sorceress, if not in this life then another. Inherited or acquired, her words held a penetrative power, breaking through his mental defenses and compelling him to move closer. His fingers ached for touch, tingling by his sides, begging to reach for her. Stop, something—someone inside him growled. Since when did he itch for physical contact?

Bucky realized he hadn’t spoken to her yet. The past discourse was only a fleeting thought in his mind. He cleared his throat then, though that action was nothing more than a front. Nothing about his demeanor was pristine, not his speech nor his thoughts. But a part of him implored to reach for Y/N in any form possible.

So with all his nonexistent assurance, Bucky braved himself. “You’re still here,” he commented, feeling woeful at his choice of words. God, he was pathetic.

To his surprise, Y/N smiled broadly. “Yes.” Her saccharine voice filled the room. “Thanks to you.”

“No,” Bucky rebutted immediately.

“James—”

“I’m not—” Bucky lost his voice mid-sentence. He looked past Y/N’s small, disheveled figure, eyes raking over the slightly open window. “I’m not James.”

Y/N didn’t question his evasion.

He felt her fidgeting in her bed. His gaze shifted to her, watching as she repositioned the white sheets, letting them settle at her waist. The movement exposed her bandaged arms, the discoloration clear even under the thick cloth. Vulnerable, his thoughts murmured. Weak.

“Who are you then?” she asked earnestly.

Bucky’s mouth went dry, his mind spiraling as he confessed, “I don’t know.”

“Can I tell you who you are?” Y/N asked.

He considered her question, his response wavering with every shift in his stance, fingers drumming against his thighs. Should she? It seemed simple, yet it felt like he was seeking permission. It was absurd. Bucky Barnes was now a rusted war machine, seeking approval from the ghost of his past self. 

Who was he beyond the torment and devastation? And who was the Winter Soldier beyond the atrocities etched in angry red on the remaining flesh of his prosthetic arm?

He found his answer.

“You don’t know me.” 

The finality in Bucky’s tone did little to deter Y/N. She reached out, an oximeter latched onto her forefinger. Back away! the Soldat hissed. Bucky wasn't sure whom the command was directed at.

Delicately, like the gentle caress of a butterfly's wings against his skin, a tingling sensation raced along his pinky. It was a subtle yet electrifying touch, igniting a warmth that seemed to radiate from the very core of his being. As Y/N entwined her fingers with his, the sensation only intensified, enveloping him in a cocoon of unexpected comfort.

“I might just surprise you,” she murmured. When he didn’t respond, he expected her to continue. Instead, she leaned back, her head resting on the pillow. Her breaths were steady, the machines around her beeping rhythmically. Before he could process the sounds, Y/N tugged on his hand. Somehow, he moved closer, his body hovering above hers.

Cynicism darkened Bucky’s features. "What will you explain to me?" he asked. "Beyond what history has already confirmed."

"I’m going to tell you who you really are," Y/N said, her voice firm. And if that alone wasn’t enough to pique his curiosity—his willingness to listen despite his inner turmoil—Y/N added, her thumb gently tracing patterns on his skin, "And what you mean to me."

Monster, his brain hissed, a sharp reminder of his past sins. Years of indoctrination under Hydra taught him to suppress and conceal his discomfort. Yet, he couldn’t suppress the wince that escaped him, the Soldat clawing at his consciousness like a venomous serpent.

“James,” Y/N uttered, her voice barely audible to his ears.

Bucky craved silence again, a part of him recoiling from the truth. He drew a deep breath, his silver-lined irises betraying the turmoil within. “What am I?” he asked rhetorically, the answer already known. At least to him. “What am I if not the cause of your suffering?”

“Perhaps, let’s start with the fact that you’re the reason I’m alive,” Y/N offered.

“No,” Bucky refuted. The hospital bed threatened to collapse under the weight of his tight grip. But the weight of his compunction, the Soldier’s remorse, proved heavier. “Don’t you dare say that!”

“James,” Y/N sighed, her voice gentle yet firm.

Bucky snapped, interrupting her before she could continue, “You are in a hospital room.”

“Yes,” she affirmed, “although I am alive and healing, not on the brink of death.”

“What difference does it make? You’re still here because of my past actions. My volatile mind!”

“Your volatile mind, in case you've forgotten, is also what saved me, us, from the clutches of Hydra.”

“Saved? I endangered you!” Bucky spat, his voice cracking under the weight of the truth. “We endangered you.”

“You and the soldier are one.”

Though her tone was gentle and her demeanor warm, her words ignited a storm within Bucky. He wanted to deny her claim. But to his surprise, he found himself agreeing. “Yes, we are,” he admitted, noting the subtle shift in Y/N’s expression as she silently acknowledged his confession. “He and I are both the villains in your story.”

Y/N shook her head, silently dissenting, but her silence only amplified the turmoil raging within Bucky's mind. Insidious, his thoughts whispered. Monsters like us only bring harm. Our hands are stained with the blood of our victims.

“This is my truth,” Bucky declared, the monotony of his voice betraying the fray within. “The world knows the atrocities I’ve committed. I remember every one of them. Including the ones involving you.”

“James, listen to me,” Y/N urged.

“Your lies once drowned out my admissions. But after what happened to you, even you can’t ignore the dangers lurking within me.”

“Who you are is subjective!” Y/N defended vehemently. “No one sees the other in the same light. You asked me who you were, and you’re not allowing me the decency to explain what you are to me.”

“I shouldn’t mean anything to you!”

“Well, it’s too bad you mean to me more than you’ve accounted for!”

Bucky was beginning to grow frustrated. Nothingness, the reminder swirled in his mind. You mean nothing to her. To anyone. Not even to yourself. The jarring reminder pricked at his sanity, forcing him to lose his grip.

He refused to continue this conversation, finding it a waste of energy and effort. Wordlessly, he turned his back to her, ready to be consumed by his ear-splitting thoughts in his desolate chambers. But something else flared within him, something both docile and menacing.

Y/N had caught his metal arm, her heated touch seeping through the advanced neural simulators. But there was a turning point; a shift where her touch transformed from winsome and appeasing to tumultuous and thundering. 

Bucky bellowed, uncaring whether Steve or Natasha would burst into the room.

He rounded on Y/N, his metal arm pinning her wrist above her head. A gasp escaped her parted lips, hitting Bucky in his face and punching him in his gut. “Hurt,” he articulated his thoughts aloud, saliva dripping from his chin. Metal pierced deeper into Y/N’s skin.

His ears acutely picked up the cacophony of noises surrounding him—from the loud beeping of her heart monitor to Steve and Natasha’s sudden interference. 

“Look at me!” Bucky demanded, his electric blue eyes locking onto Y/N’s. Though he was tormented by his madness, he pressed on, instilling Y/N with dread. “See what cannot be undone. I am the Winter Soldier. A menace, a lethal weapon, Hydra’s enforcer. I am not your hero in metal armor or your misguided redemption project. You can’t fool me or anyone into believing there’s a good side to me. There isn’t.”

“What if it were me?” The question hit Bucky like a freight car, rendering him immobile and halting his thoughts. Y/N’s eyes brimmed with tears that trailed down her cheeks to her lips. “What if it were me?” she asked again, her voice faltering.

Bucky hadn’t noticed his grip on her had slackened until he asked, “What if you were what?”

“What if I was the villain?” She refrained from saying anything more, her silence bathing the entire room. Bucky picked up on Steve and Natasha’s bated breaths. They all remained silent, anticipating the implication behind Y/N’s words. “What if Hydra had used me? Manipulated my powers into hurting you and—”

“Don’t—”

“You have spent the better part of this hour, no, these three days, punishing yourself for something that was beyond your control! You didn’t choose to hurt me.”

“I could have fought it!”

“And you did! You fought tooth and nail till the last second, James. Or else you wouldn’t have saved my life. When your choices were restored, you chose me.”

“At what cost?” Bucky argued, his voice laced with frustration. “You survived today. But what about tomorrow or the day after? What will happen to you then when I fail to control myself?”

“I can ask you the same thing,” Y/N countered, indignance flaring in her tone. Bucky shook his head, the unwillingness to listen explicitly drawn on his face. “What if they didn’t restrain my powers and had exploited them instead? I’ve vowed to never force my powers on you. Even now, when I want to help you, I refuse to use them without your consent. But what if I had to?”

“You can’t hurt me,” Bucky attested.

"Can't I?" Y/N's voice quivered as tears streamed down her cheeks, her lower lip trembling in tandem. “They replicated my powers, James. That’s how they hijacked your neural frame. That’s how they brought out the Soldat.”

“Just because they replicated your powers doesn’t mean you hurt me.”

Y/N cried out, her breath shaky and feeble, “You don’t get it! They planned this whole charade out because they wanted us to hurt each other somehow. But what if the roles were reversed? What if they manipulated me into directly using my powers against you?”

It was a strange twist of fate to see her engaging in the very behavior she had argued against. Manipulating him. Not through her powers, but through his emotions. And Bucky was angry, furious because she couldn’t hurt him. Deep down, he knew that Y/N could do even the most nefarious things to him and he’d see them as nothing more than a measly scrape, easy to heal from.

“Y/N,” Bucky huffed, his fingers threading through his dark hair. Her name made heat spark within his senses and ice run down his spine. “Stop.”

“Don’t you remember what I told you?” Her tears fell in torrents against her cheeks, glistening under the light of the hospital room. It was impossible to ignore them or the way they made Bucky feel. “You’re my home, James.”

“I’m your demise.”

“You’re my lifeline,” Y/N countered. “You understand me more than anyone ever will. When everyone fears what I can do, you trust that I won’t ever hurt you.”

“You cannot hurt me.”

“Because you don’t give me the power to. Just as I've refrained. You cannot hurt me, James. No matter how much you try, deliberately or inadvertently, you can never hurt me.”

A heavy pause veiled the room. Silently but deafeningly, a wave of uncertainty permeated the air. Bucky didn’t know what to say. He wanted to argue and refute all the words that had been uttered and the nonsense that was spewed. But Y/N was right in a way yet wrong in many others. Her love was blinding, to him and her, pulling them both to the abyss of sanity and forcing them to drift away from it all.

He didn't want to waste time arguing, torn between holding on and letting go. But the tingling sensation he had felt before came back, teetering on the edge of his fingers. He looked down then, sensing a force. His fingers were bathed in silver mist, swirls of light dancing across his metal arm.

“I give you the choice,” Y/N stated, pulling his gaze back to hers. He regarded her with wide and curious eyes like a child born into a vast new world. “Isolation is not retribution. Withdrawal is not the answer. You’re good, James. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have fought back.”

Bucky’s mind was a storm, the conflicting emotions clashing violently. He felt the weight of his past, the horrors he had committed, pressing down on him.

“Y/N—”

“The only way you can hurt me is if you let me go. If you distance yourself and leave me to fend for myself with all these fears and thoughts. I need you, James. I believe in you and the goodness that you hold. You’re not a monster, a villain, or anything remotely close to it.”

“What am I?” Bucky asked, his question vastly different in strength and nature than when he had first voiced it aloud.

The tendrils of light were now wrapped around his waist. Like an angel’s breath, they started tantalizing his senses as they climbed up his arms, imbuing them with serenity. He felt them tug at his heart, almost whispering to it in a language he wasn’t privy to but understood nonetheless.

Y/N shuffled in her bed, kicking the sheets further down her body. She hid her winces well, or maybe she was too focused on closing the distance between her and Bucky to acknowledge them.

Get back, the Soldat ordered. Don’t accept sympathy.

“You are James Buchanan Barnes. A melodramatic centenarian with the most mystifying blue eyes that I both love and cherish. You have a very bad habit of second-guessing your actions and striving for perfection in everything that you do because you think that you have something to compensate for when you don’t. Love is given; trust is earned. And I grant you both of them because I know that even in the middle of the tempest, you will never drift too far away from the shore.”

“Y/N. I’m not…” Bucky began, but the words faltered. He wanted to argue, to push her away for her own good, but her light was too strong, too compelling.

“You’re not what?” she asked softly, her eyes searching his. “Not worthy? Not good enough? Because you are, James. You’re more than enough.”

Her words cut through his defenses, leaving him vulnerable and exposed. The Soldat within him snarled in defiance, but Bucky’s heart ached with a different truth. He was tired of fighting, tired of pushing away the one person who saw him for who he truly was.

“I can’t allow myself to hurt you again,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.

“You won’t,” she replied with unwavering conviction. “Not if you stay. Not if you let me in.”

The silver mist enveloped him completely now, soothing the chaos inside. Bucky felt a strange sense of peace wash over him. He took a hesitant step closer to Y/N, then another, until he was right beside her bed.

Y/N reached out, her hand trembling slightly, and touched his cheek. His thoughts quieted at her touch, a tranquil sensation rushing through his mind. It was quaint like a mother’s lullaby and soft like a child’s laugh reverberating in bustling boulevards.

Those silver tendrils caressed his consciousness, seeping through the dark cracks and painting them with a kaleidoscope of colors. The anxiety in him relented, preening at the feel of Y/N in his mind. Even the Soldat bowed his head, snarls and whimpers shushed and eased by the delicate hum of her magic. He heard her voice, whispered promises and beloved attestations, following them as he strolled through forgotten avenues that he had tried to repress.

And there at the precipice, basked in stardust and moonglow, stood Y/N. Her skin was flawless, silky, and luminous with no trace of the unforgiving scars he had inflicted on her. Her pink lips were upturned, a wistful smile decorating her ethereal features. “Come home,” she called for him, like a siren luring a sailor in the tempest, a shooting star carrying a wish across the skies.

“You’re my home,” Bucky swore reverently, worshipping her after God, swearing his devotion and fidelity.

Fingers interlaced with hers, he watched the silver twirl happily against the gold of his metal plates. The colors contrasting yet befitting, something that reflected them in a bejeweled portrait of understanding and individuality. He tightened his hold on her hand, allowing her magic to seep through his veins. His eyes closed, a blinding light casting over him, embracing him with the strength of a thousand twilights.

When his eyes opened, the silver hadn’t waned. Not in Y/N’s wide eyes nor the remnants on his hands and certainly not in his own gaze.

“Angel,” the word slipped past his lips, wistful and solemn.

Y/N’s silver orbs swiftly regained their normal color. Though no trace of her magic remained, her eyes didn’t lose their natural luster. Her gaze rekindled a comforting warmth as she greeted him, “Welcome home, James.”

Truth, his mind preened. He broke down, fingers raking through Y/N’s hair, lips pressing kisses across her face. 

Y/N was his only truth. Her soul the sanctuary he could never—would never forsake.

I know it's been a long while since I updated this story, but I'd like to thank everyone who stuck around this far! It's been hard sitting down, pulling out my laptop, and writing just for fun... to bring those characters and these story arcs to life. But I'm glad Bucky and Angel's story found a befitting and dulcet end.

Check out my Writing Celebration to request your thoughts and ideas, experience fun little writing challenges, and get to know the blog!

My next Tumblr focus will exclusively be on Varicolored Schemes, a mafia!Steve Rogers x Reader series for anyone interested in seeing a new, dangerous side to Captain America! I might take on a few requests or release a few one-shots if motivation permits it, but this series will receive the most of my attention.

Happy reading, witchlings. Enjoy the start/rest of your weekend🩵🦋

All-Works Taglist: @xxrougefangxx

Bucky Barnes Taglist: @ye0nvibezzn @justafangir1

Series Taglist: @msoldier @kandis-mom @nobodycanknoww

[theconstantsidekick]

Captain America: Civil War ft. Static (10)

Pairings: Tony Stark x Stark!Reader (siblings), Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader

Genre: Angst with a sprinkle of happiness?

Summary: Goodbyes are a bitch, aren't they? Especially when you the future better than the people in question.

(These scenes incorporate y/n, codename—Static, into the pre-existing story as a character without making drastic changes to the plot or mythos. All the major plot points from the MCU remain in place with the addition of the reader as Static, who is not only a Stark but also enhanced. Whatever events from the canon aren’t mentioned, take place without much change.)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Past Trauma

a/n: i wrote this before the entire fucking series

Captain America: Civil War ft. Static (9) | Series Masterlist | Age of Ultron (Static Origin Story) | The Avengers (ft. Static) | Captain America: The Winter Soldier (ft. Static) | Static Verse Masterlist

“I have been thinking. I do that these days. I think a lot—all the time. You’ll be surprised to hear that it started long before whatever this shitshow was… I have been thinking a lot and I have to tell you, I hate thinking.” Tony’s sitting in his workshop at the compound as a hologram projection of his sister’s recorded message plays in front of him. He watches as she shakes her head with something akin to sorrow.

“It makes me heavy. It bogs me down with the weight of my thoughts—which inevitably turn into feelings. And you—you, Anthony Edward Stark, know better than any man who’s ever lived that my feelings are so. very. big. Humongous. Ginormous. Brobdingnagian.” Y/n laughs then, a broken small little thing, and shifts in her seat where she’s manspreading like she owns whatever place she recorded this message in.

“I think… I think about friendships. I think about you, and Nat, and Rhodey, and Howie, and Maria, and Peggy. Then I think about Thor off in space somewhere. I think about Bruce too and wish he’s miraculously found Thor and is on his way home, hopefully. I think about Sam, I think about Wanda and Vision and Happy and Pep and—it…it makes my heart heavy. Because sometimes I think about family and somehow all the same names pop right back into my head. It makes me feel warm.” She smiles, and his heart—his cheating, broken, angry heart—takes some solace in knowing that at least that was real.

“I remember when Maria handed you to me after she had spent hours screaming for you to just get the hell out of her in that hospital room. I wasn’t in there—in the room, I mean… I was too scared to go in—private moment and all that… Until your father came barging out, all sweaty and scared, like he was about to shit a brick. He walked past me at first but when he did, I got up on my feet and he turned and looked at me and his face went slack. I have never felt that kind of fear. But it was gone as quick as it came cause Howie was shouting at me, asking me where the fuck had I been this entire time while shoving me inside the delivery room. The moment I went in, your mother fucking screamed ‘thank fuck you’re here’! And that was that. If there was a doubt about it before, it was gone now. I was a Stark, through and through. Alien blood be damned. This was my little family.” Her eyes seem misty, Tony notes. She’s all dressed up in a spectacular all-white three-piece suit, with her blazer laid carefully on the back of her seat.

“I held your mother’s hand and watched as the most important person of my life came into existence. We were all crying by then, tears of joy. 

“After it was over, she wanted to get some rest. Howard had apparently shat that brick he was so desperately holding onto by his perky asshole and was therefore already deep in slumber… which by the way—typical Howard. So anyway, Maria wanted a well-deserved nap so she handed you off to me. And I will never forget what she said. ‘Look after him, will you?’ It might have been framed as a question, but a question it was not. It was an order, as clear as day, written in blood and tears and leftover placenta liquid.” It makes Tony wonder how many more stories he has yet to hear. He’s known this woman his entire life, quite fucking literally and yet, in moments like these, the moments that matter the most, she always has a new story for him. 

“I held you in my arms and I had a purpose. From that point on, I would have a purpose for the rest of my cunty god-forsakenly long life—watch out for you. To have your back, no matter what…” She exhales as her head falls, seemingly too heavy with thoughts for her to carry with any ease at all. “I had a duty of care.”

He watches as she brings her palms over her eyes, pressing them in to try to relieve whatever pain she can… None of it lifts, he knows. He’s speaking from experience.

With a deep breath in, she sits up once again. “I am not telling you all this to say that I would have chosen differently. I wouldn’t have. I never could have, I hope—I just hope one day you can understand why that was. I am, however, telling you all this in some twisted way to explain perhaps? All your life you have been used to the idea of me having your back no matter what happened, and this—this fucking cock boggling mess was the first fucking time I ever faltered. And for that… For that, I am deeply sorry, Anthony. My intention has never been to hurt you, ever. I said a lot of things. Really shitty stuff. I said those things in the heat of the moment—I couldn’t fucking stop it, Stark. I just couldn’t. Try as I might, they kept spilling. Th—there was a fucking hole in my chest, burning and itching and drilling deeper still. I couldn’t control it, it ached and hurt and burnt and I just… I couldn’t stop. Because it was fear. Because I was scared. I was—I still am. I am so fucking scared, Tony. I am always so goddamn scared, you know?” She’s a mumbling crying mess now, and Tony feels like absolute fucking shit. 

“The life I had before all this, before you—it was horrid, Tony. It was so bad. I woke up every day hoping it would finally be the day I’d meet the bullet with my name on it and it would be my last. And every fucking day it wasn’t. Which was worse… but it was also better because I didn’t want to die, you know? I didn’t want to die without knowing what it—what it fe—felt like to be happy.

“I kept living in that filth.” There is so much fucking disdain in her voice as she speaks, his own blood starts curdling. “I kept going, kept doing The Orphanage’s dirty work, then I did HYDRA’s dirty work, then I did S.H.I.E.L.D.’s. Because I was scared. And as badly as I wanted to die, I wanted to live way more. I wanted—” She’s out of breath and she looks so fucking distraught, he doesn’t even know how to fucking react. He has never seen her like this. Years and years of living with his sister, an entire life’s worth of memories, and never did he know she was hurting this badly… How the fuck did he not know?

“I just wanted to live. I wanted to escape… one day. And back then, when I was in the fucking thick of it, it never felt like I could. You have to understand, up to that point, I had lived my entire life in what was the equivalent of one fucking jail cell after another. Never in my wildest dreams did I even think of having a room with a window, let alone a view. Even when I thought of it all ending—when I thought of my freedom, I thought of the ways I could hide, of where I could get passports, of what supplies I would need while being on the run from whatever organization had control of me at that time. I just wanted to own myself—and that would have been freedom enough.” 

She composes herself.

“So, when you came to me with all your, honestly, very good intentions of getting us to sign the accords I was—” Her composer slacks, “I was back there again! I was back in a small tiny room, with an open fucking toilet and a bed that made you want to sleep on the floor. I was back to being controlled and tortured and experimented upon and I was back to being played with like a goddamn machine!” She’s almost pleading now, tears running down her face. 

“I would do anything for you, Tony. You have to know that.” There is a seriousness in her words that scare the shit out of him, cause she says, “I would do anything for you. You want the world? It’s yours. I will burn it to the ground if you asked me to, not even question it. You want it whole and pure? I will conquer it for you in a fortnight. But–but,” she breaks once again, “But I couldn’t—I cannot do this. I cannot go back.” She wipes away her tears.

“I have tasted freedom now. I didn’t know how sweet it was before. I didn’t know what it felt like to have a family, to have friends who love me. I didn’t know what it was like to have a room with a view… I didn’t know what it felt like to have a choice. I can’t give it up now, Tony. Please, you have to understand, I can’t. I can’t go back. Please.” She’s fucking begging him now, she’s so desperate that it rips him apart. Is this what went on in her head when he talked about it all? She seems so fragile and afraid… he did this to her? He wasn’t aiming for this. He was never aiming for this. He just wanted to make up for his sins but… at this cost? At her cost?

“You know why I got the cruelest fucking missions they had? The ones that would rot you from the inside out? Cause they knew my past. They’d see my record, and they’d send me off to missions that were soul-sucking, motherfucking shit that made me puke my guts out the moment I was in the clear. Because jobs that filthy belong to people of filth. I got the jobs that couldn’t be done by someone with a soul, done by a man who was whole. It didn’t matter if it was The Orphanage, HYDRA, or even S.H.I.E.L.D. I got the soulless job because they knew I never had one, to begin with…” 

Fuck him.

He’s the most selfish asshole out there.

She exhales then… a pause, a beat, and a moment of soft introspection. He can practically pinpoint the moment she decides to compose herself. It happens between the nervous bite of her lip and her jaw clicking in place. He knows her at least that well…

She sits up straight. “But that was then, and this is now. Now I have. Now I want. I won’t even let anyone touch my freedom, not even in death.” She clicks her tongue. “So it just makes me think, you know? I think about things like this. About you and your parents, and my friends—my family. I think about them. I think about these things when I wake up, when I fight, when I dream. All that is to say… I’m not callous about this life. I am not callous about the decision I made. It weighs on me heavier than you know. It wretches me apart, with every breath…”

He doesn’t want to hear the part that comes next.

“But—but I can’t stay, Tony. You know I can’t… and for that too, I am sorry.” 

He’s never really spent a day in his life when he couldn’t reach out to his sister. He’s a fairly old dude, so you have to pardon him if he’s quite scared of it. He doesn’t know how to do it. He just doesn’t.

“I didn’t know about Barnes. Fuck, I didn’t have the faintest clue. And I absolutely did not know about that traitorous bastard who I won’t even dignify by naming. I—” Her fist clenches as she brings it up to cover her mouth. Her anger is so fucking palpable that Tony thinks he might just be able to sense it, that is until the footage starts glitching and he realizes, it’s cause her anger is making her emanate power. He thought he could hear static because there is fucking static, it is coming from her. She’s trying to calm herself down.

She breathes in, the footage settling. “He doesn’t matter,” She says with cold unfocused eyes and he can see how deep that secret has dung into her. “This isn’t about him. This is… this is about me, pleading with you, urging you to—to” she pauses, long and hard, with a small smile on her face. It’s the same one she wears when she knows she’s about to do something profoundly fucking stupid. Consider Tony terri-fucking-fied. “This is me urging you to, at a much later date in life—try and forgive Sergeant Barnes.”

“Woman, have you gone fucking crazy?!?!! Did you hit your fucking head when you decided TO DROP A BUILDING ON US?!” Tony knows he’s screaming at a holographic projection but it’s not for naught.

Because his sister is waving away his screams with an annoyed face, “Don’t fucking freak the fuck out. Just like, listen to me! TONY!” His tirade stops. She—her recording, somehow just knows. Cause then she exhales. “I am not saying now, and I am certainly not saying you have to. I am just pleading with you to consider it… Because—well because there are countless people out there in the world who…” she bites her lip. “I am to them what Barnes is to you. Except, unlike me, Sergeant Barnes never even had the chance to rebel, he was brainwashed and tortured, and broken down to be used.” And before Tony can begin to protest, her hands fly up to stop him. “That was all I wanted to say about that. I am done, the decision is completely up to you. Just you, and there is absolutely no right answer, just the one you choose. This was just…” she smiles, “something for you to think about.” 

He can’t help the corner of his mouth from curling a little as well.

She kicks back then, hands crossed in front of her as she looks around wherever she is. “That, yeah. I think that was my grand speech. I know it feels like I’m leaving you behind somehow, but I promise you I am not. I’m just a… actively hunted fugitive of the state.” She shakes her head from side to side in consideration before adding, “And I have a few dues to pay… I’ll be back once they are cleared.” 

She looks up at him then. It almost feels like she’s in the room with him.

“But no matter what happens, I’m here, Tony. You know how to reach me. And I will always come when you call. I will always be there for you. Even if you don’t see me there, trust me. I am there. I will always have your back.”

Something catches her eye, she pulls out her phone and checks it.

Rolling her eyes, she pockets the device and looks back up at the camera.

“Ugh, yeah. I think our time here is up…” She finally smiles, happy and true. “You just pulled in, so I gotta run.”

WAIT, WHAT??

HE JUST PULLED IN? 

TO WHERE?!!

He runs back to his station, “F.R.I.D.A.Y. run diagnostics on the recording, analyze it top to bottom, tell me where it was taken.”

Meanwhile, he watches as his sister stands up. 

“I love you, kiddo. And I’m always right behind you.”

More commotion on the recording as F.R.I.D.A.Y. responds, “Sir, the footage was taken here, at the Avenger’s compound.”

“That cocky bitch,” Tony curses, almost in awe of her. Cause fuck! Even Rogers had the good sense to courier his fucking apology. What was this woman thinking? “Tell me when F.R.I.D.A.Y.!”

He watches as his sister puts on her blazer and fixes up her suit.

“17 minutes ago, sir,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. answers.

“WHAT?!”

“There was a gap in the security footage, it was cloned to play in a loop. It’s almost seamless sir, except this,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. presents the footage on the screen in front of him.

Meanwhile, the hologram of his sister walks up close to the camera and leans down to look at it face-to-face. She presses a kiss to her fingers and presses the fingers to the camera.

“See you, space cowboy.” With that, the holograph is gone.

Tony falls onto his chair in complete surprise and an unwitting smile on his face, as he watches his sister on the CCTV footage waving at him with a wink.

“That fucking—”

Find the series masterlist here. Find other Static Verse works here.

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[tldrthor]

Part II: The Princess (and the chaos she brings with her) - steve rogers x princess!reader

summary: the princess gets to grips with life in the avengers tower, the captain does his best to not allow his feelings to get in the way of acting normal. everything is nice... but for how long?

part 2 // it was an honour and a privilege, for his words to reach only her ear // word count 2k

you can find part one here and here's my masterlist <3

a/n: nothing much happens in this one but i needed to set the scene! hope you enjoy this short and fluffy fic x

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Steve felt a kind of giddiness he had never felt before. It was almost nauseating; somewhere between the greatest euphoria and the deepest of depressions. He felt himself unable to bring words to his lips, when Bucky knocked on his room door to ask him how he was holding up.

“This is fucking crazy, man.” Bucky had breathed out. It seemed the same cat had got his tongue.

Steve had breathed out a half-laugh. “Yeah, it’s definitely crazy.”

He felt delirious. Dizzy with every emotion he had ever, and will ever feel. He found himself staring at the clock as time ticked by, agonisingly slowly. He fought against every instinct he had to run to her, make sure she never left his sight again.

It had been nearly 80 years since they had last seen each other. What if she had moved on? What if he was too different for her now? What if she was different?

As they had talked, it felt the same. But the talk they had had wasn't quite enough for the captain. He fought against every instinct he had to charge into her room and demand answers to the thousand questions running through his head.

His best bet would be going for a run, clear his head, work off some energy. It was a nice day outside, and a weekend so most of the agents and personnel were off-base. He shrugged on some gym clothes and headed out. He found himself lingering, as he walked past her door, trying to fend off thoughts of charging in and blurting his deepest thoughts to her.

The sound of... struggling? He could hear her, with ragged breath and the sound of what he thought was someone bumping into furniture. His eyebrows furrowed as he went into avenger mode.

"Princess?" He knocked quickly on the door, listening as he did for further sounds. As he knocked, the noises stopped. It was only through his supersoldier hearing that he could still hear her ragged breaths.

A small, breathless voice came from behind the door. "I'm okay, I'm alright!"

The captain wasn't entirely sure what to do. "Do you need help with anything?"

There was silence for a moment. And then, the lock on the door turned and she stood, once more, in front of him. Now, she was more flushed, and her hair had fallen ever so slightly out of place. The captain still thought she was the most radiant being he had ever seen.

"I... I am sorry to ask, captain. I am so used to having handmaidens that I can't get my armour off by myself." She looked away as she said it, and Steve cursed himself as a blush spread it's way over his cheeks.

"I'll help!" He said, perhaps a little too much enthusiasm behind his words. He immediately pulled it back, "or I could get Natasha, if you want."

The princess smiled at him. "It's okay, I wouldn't want to bother Miss Romanoff, if you don't mind helping?" She held the door for him and he entered her chambers. If she had been on Alfheim, or Asgard for that matter, this would have caused great scandal. For a brief moment, regardless of the circumstances, she was grateful to be back on Midgard.

She lifted her arms to show him how the chestplate connected around her torso, and he began to undo the intricate mechanism stitching it together. They were both hyper-aware of their closeness in that moment, each fighting not to think about it too much.

"It's beautiful." Steve tried to cut the silence, but his voice came out as more of a whisper. "Your armour, I mean. The carvings." He cleared his throat.

She made eye contact with him, and he nearly audibly gulped. "Thank you." As the mechanisms finally gave way, she pulled the piece over her head, holding it in front of her. "It belonged to my grandmother, the last Queen of Alfheim. They say even the stars themselves bowed to her."

Steve didn't miss the sadness layered in her voice.

"I never knew anything about your family before. It's crazy that they're kings and queens." Steve confessed.

She placed a hand, lightly on his arm. She couldn't think of what to say in response to that, but the gesture was enough. She hung the armour in the wardrobe, then began to take off her jewelry starting with her jeweled tiara. As she pulled it from her hair, he audibly gasped.

With the way her tresses fell, and covered her ears, it was like the princess disappeared and was replaced with (y/n). His (y/n). The one he ejected from the plane to save, all those years ago. The one he had mourned since he came out of the ice.

She turned to him, smiling. "You look the same, you know." She continued, "As when we last saw each other."

Steve caught a glimpse of himself in her mirror. He didn't feel the same as back then. He had been so full of hope, so naïve. The modern world made it hard to be optimistic.

"I'm older, now. You haven't aged a day." He responded.

She chuckled. "Steven, you are the same boy who jumped on the grenade at Camp Lehigh, it doesn't matter how you've aged." The kindness of her words as she said his name moved him in a way that no one had in a long time. "My people age far slower than Midgardians, so physically aging is an honour. I hope that one day, I experience the blessings of the years."

"What... what age are you?"

"Are you quite certain you want to know?" She asked, a hint of a smirk on her lips. When he nodded after a moment's hesitation, she continued; "I am 578 years old."

His jaw nearly hit the floor in shock. He looked at her features intently, his mind clawing desperately for anything to say. She didn't look a day over 25, and hadn't since the 40's.

"That's... um, pretty old." He stuttered out. Well, that was not what he had meant to say.

Her melodic laugh reached his ears and he had to admit, he breathed out a sigh of relief. "Captain, that is not a very becoming thing to say to a lady," She giggled. "I am barely a quarter of the way through my life span."

"God, sorry I didn't mean it like that, just... It's all so strange."

"I know, Captain. It is a long time in comparisons to a Midgardians life. I hope that it does not disturb you too much."

In the silence of the room, Steve suddenly became aware of the distance between them, or rather, the lack thereof. She was so close he could almost feel her breath on her face, as her eyelashes fluttered, looking up at him.

Her irresistible eyes.

He could reach out and grab her, right now. It would be easy, romantic, passionate, wonderful. He wanted to do it, badly. To feel his hands on her waist, to wrap her in his arms. He wondered, briefly, if she would tangle her hands in his hair.

In the real world, he couldn't do it. They had been apart for nearly a century, and even when they knew each other, they hadn't gotten that far. He didn't know if she still... felt that way.

His head was spinning, everything seemed to be moving too quickly and too slowly at the same time. Mayday, mayday, mayday.

He cleared his throat and moved away. Well, it was more of a jump. So much for looking normal, he thought to himself.

"We should go for dinner, uh... people will be waiting." He examined her features. She smiled politely, but her eyes betrayed something else. Was that... disappointment he detected? He was probably wishful thinking.

"Of course, Captain. I will get changed into the clothes Natasha brought for me, and then we shall go." She elegantly picked up some clothes, and wandered to the bathroom.

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Dinner was lively as ever. At Thor's request, everyone had joined the team in the dining room for some pizza. Steve and the Princess wandered in later than everybody else, but were welcomed with cheers and laughter. It was nice.

"Princess (y/n)!" Thor boomed, motioning his friends over to two empty seats beside him. "I believe you have met everyone bar the young master Parker, over here." He pointed towards a young brunet boy, sitting rather awkwardly at the corner of the large table.

He waved, whispering a barely audible "Hi."

"Hello, Master Parker. I am (y/n) of Alfheim."

"Yeah, I heard, um. It's Peter, not Master Parker. My name I mean. If you want to- if it's your tradition or whatever you can call me that too I just... um, most of the uh avengers call me Peter, I mean." He placed a hand over his face in what even the princess understood was teen angst.

"Peter, then." She smiled politely at the young, flailing boy.

"I call him bugboy, if that's any more appeasing to you." A familiar voice parted through the din of the many, many conversations being had around the table. The princess looked to see Bucky sitting across from them, next to the man called Sam.

She laughed politely, at his joke, understanding immediately that the young avenger certainly experienced a lot of jokes at his expense.

Her attention was diverted, once again, by Mr. Stark. "Have you ever had the Midgardian delicacy of pizza, your highness?" There was a hint of sarcasm to his deference, that was not unnoticed by (y/n).

"Tony, she lived in Brooklyn in the 40s. Of course she's had pizza." Steve spoke up for her, also noticing the way Tony laced disquiet with her titles. He was being overprotective over pizza, and even though he was aware of the fact, he couldn't stop himself.

"Actually, Captain, I never got around to trying it during my time here."

A silence befell the dining room.

"What?" The harsh words came from Bucky, but it was a sentiment echoed quickly by Cap, and then young Peter.

"How could you have lived in New York for several years, and not had pizza?" Steve laughed at the Princess, who sheepishly smiled.

"I honestly did not realise it was a food, and I lived mostly on army rations anyway..." She explained.

"Oh my god, she's never lived." Sam spoke, dead-pan.

Tony finally interrupted the cacophony. "Well then, ma'am, consider this evening an education."

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The evening was lovely. The conversation (and wine) flowed, never a dull moment. Thor and the Princess dazzled with tales of their worlds and the many battles they had faced. Steve and Bucky reminisced with the Princess about the times they had shared together.

As the evening grew quieter, the Princess found herself feeling safe, for the first time in a while. She was all too aware of Cap's arm slung over the back of her chair, dangerously close to being around her shoulders. Her heart skipped a beat every time he leant down to her ear, to share something only with her. It was an honour and a privilege, for his words to reach only her ear.

For the last 80 years, she had felt like she was spinning out of control. With the war, and especially the last attack, things had been worse than ever. But now, she could get used to this.

She dared, as she laughed at one of Tony's jokes, to put her head on the Captain's shoulder. As she did, she happened to catch Bucky's eye - he smiled and winked.

Yeah, she could definitely get used to this.

Unfortunately, she wouldn't get the chance to.

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== TAGLIST ==

@vicmc624 @jvdgement @capswife @megluv1 @moviegurl2002 @aliciaasky @yiiiikesmish

i tagged everyone who said they wanted part 2, but let me know if you want to be removed from the taglist at any point! thanks so much for your support on the first part x

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Got My Doll Back » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Wife/Enhanced!Reader with Steve Rogers/Captain America, Sam Wilson/Falcon, and Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow

Summary: Bucky gets his wife back after thinking that she was dead for years.

Warnings: Fluff, language, mentions of past memories & trauma, fighting, crying, kissing, pet names (doll)

A/N: Y/N has the same powers as Wanda.

A/N #2: Thank you to @buckys-wintersoldier for helping find the first aesthetic picture🩵

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes and typos.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

“These 4 people are your mission. Get these 3 out of the way.” Pierce shows you pictures of Captain America, the Falcon, and Black Widow. “And bring the Winter Soldier back to us alive. Understand?” He says, showing you a picture of the Winter Soldier.

“I understand, sir.” You reply.

Alarms at the base you’re at went off, along with a flashing red light in the room. Pierce went to the security system to see four people walking through the hallways of the base separately. Pierce chuckles and smirks before turning to face you.

“This mission may be easier than we thought. Go to the south end of the base and bring the Winter Soldier to the room.” He tells you.

You nodded and headed towards the door. An agent opened it for you. You headed to the south side of the base. Your walk was cut short when you heard a woman’s voice. You turned around to see a woman with red hair and wearing a black mission suit, one of your targets. She rose one of her arms, getting ready to shoot one of her widow bites at you. Your powers glowed red in your right hand, along with your eyes glowing red. She began to walk towards you, but you used your powers to throw her against the wall, making her groan in pain when she landed on the floor. You ran away from her before she could get up and get you.

“Rogers, Barnes, Wilson. There’s a woman wearing all black with a red jacket is going to the south side of the base. She’s enhanced.” Natasha says into her ear piece.

“I’m on it!” Sam replies, running to the south side.

You rounded the corner to see your second target causing you to stop in your tracks, seeing a man standing across from you.

“I’m not about to fight a woman so let’s do this the easy way.” Sam says.

“That’s a shame.” You say, slightly tilting your head.

Your eyes turned red, along with a ball of red appearing in your hand. You threw it at him causing him to fall to the floor. You ran past him to find your other two targets.

“She’s going east now!” Sam says into his ear piece.

“I see her!” Bucky replies.

Bucky shoots at you. You quickly ducked to the floor to avoid the bullet. You chuckled and stood up with your back facing him.

“Got outsmarted by a woman, didn’t you, Soldat?” You say.

Bucky froze and his eyes went wide. The voice sounds all too familiar. It sounds like someone he knows. Someone from his past.

Steve rounded the corner and caught up to Bucky. He waved his hand in front of his face to snap him out of his thoughts.

“Bucky!” Steve shook him. “Did she do something to you?” He asks.

“N-No.” Bucky stutters.

Steve looks at you to see you facing away from him and Bucky.

“Turn around.” Steve orders.

Steve got his shield ready as you chuckled and turned around.

“You know, the last man who ordered me around, got thrown off of a building. I’m sure you don’t want that to happen to you, Captain.” You say, slowly turning around.

You looked up to see the two men with surprised looks on their faces. Bucky put his gun in the hostler and Steve lowered his shield.

“Oh my god.” Steve says, completely speechless.

“Y/N?” Bucky says with hopefulness in his voice.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, tilting your head to the side.

“Who the hell is Y/N?” You say.

Bucky couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His wife from the 40s was standing a few feet away from him. He slowly approached you which was a mistake on his part cause the next thing he knew was being thrown into the wall. Steve threw his shield at you, but you stopped it with your powers. It fell to the floor in front of you.

“Listen here, Captain and Soldat, but I’m not who you guys think I am.” You say.

Bucky stood up from the ground in time to see your eyes glowing red and a red light glow in your hands, making his eyes to widen.

“I was given a mission and I need to finish it. I’m sure you can relate to that, Soldat.” You say.

Before you could use your powers on them, you felt shocks to the back of your neck causing your body to tense up and lose consciousness. Bucky was quick to catch you before you hit the floor.

“While you two were busy dilly dallying with her, me and Sam got the file.” Natasha says, holding up the file.

Bucky moved your hair from your face to get a closer look at your face causing his breath to hitch in his throat and his eyes to tear up.

“What did they do to you, doll?” Bucky asks, talking more to himself.

Sam and Natasha furrowed their eyebrows in confusion as they looked down at Bucky.

“Doll? Barnes, do you know this woman?” Natasha asks.

“He’ll explain later. We need to get out of here.” Steve says.

Bucky stood up with you in his arms and carried you to the quinjet, holding you like his life depends on it.

A couple hours later, you woke up in a room that you didn’t recognize. You looked around the room, gathering your surroundings. Your eyes landed on a man sleeping in a chair next to the bed you’re in.

“Hello?” You say, raising an eyebrow.

Bucky woke up immediately. A smile grew on his face when he seen that you’re awake.

“Thank god you’re awake.” Bucky says relieved.

He reaches to grab your hand, but you backed away from him. You felt yourself beginning to panic.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He says in a reassuring voice.

You took a moment to yourself to think. You felt yourself starting to become overwhelmed, your breathing became uneven.

“Wh-Where am I?” You asked, looking around the room again.

“My apartment.” He tells you.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to calm yourself down. That’s when memories flooded your brain. Visions of a man appeared in your mind. The man looks exactly like the man sitting next to you. You opened your eyes and looked at the man. There was a few different features about this man compared to the man in your vision. He has long hair, stubble, and a metal arm.

“I know you from somewhere, but I don’t know where.” You say.

“Take your time. It’ll come to you.” He says softly.

You took your time and thought. You kept thinking until your head started pounding by more memories flowing back into your mind. You put your hands on the sides of your head and squeezed your eyes shut. You jumped slightly when you felt a hand on your back, but you didn’t move away. When your head stopped pounding, you opened your eyes and looked up at the man with tears in your eyes. It didn’t take long for you to realize that the man next to you is your husband.

“Bucky?” You say in almost a whisper.

“It’s me, doll. It’s your Bucky.” He says with a smile.

Tears spilled from your eyes as you hugs him. Bucky pulled you onto his lap, holding you close to him. His eyes teared up. Bucky never thought he would get the chance to see or hold his wife again.

“I missed you so much.” You cried against his chest.

“I missed you too, doll.” Bucky says, tears rolled down his cheeks.

You sniffled and looked up at your husband, looking into his beautiful blue eyes.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was told to—” Bucky silenced you with a kiss.

“You didn’t hurt me.” Bucky says, looking into your eyes.

“I-I blasted you with my powers.” You say.

“It wasn’t you, doll.” He says, cupping your cheeks.

You shivered when you felt cool metal against your skin.

“What happened to your left arm?” You asked with concern in your voice while looking at his metal arm.

Bucky didn’t want to upset with the details of how he really lost his left arm so he came up with a different way to tell you what happened.

“I got hurt years ago and when I woke up, I had this.” He explains, showing you his metal arm.

Bucky watched as you carefully touched it, watching as your fingers traced the plates of it.

“I’m sorry for hurting your friends with my powers.” You say, feeling ashamed for your actions.

“They’ll understand that it wasn’t you, doll.” Bucky says.

“I didn’t hurt Steve, did I?” You asked.

“No you didn’t.” He says.

You smiled to yourself, knowing that you didn’t hurt your best friend.

“Is it ok if I see Steve and meet your friends?” You asked.

“Of course.” He smiles.

You got off the bed and followed closely behind Bucky while holding his hand as he led you to the living room where Steve, Sam, and Natasha are.

“Someone would like to see you guys.” Bucky says to them.

You slowly stepped out from behind Bucky and looked at everyone.

“Do you remember me?” Steve asks, trying his best not to overstep.

“How could I forget my best friend?” You say.

Steve smiles as you approached him to give him a hug. You looked at the two people standing next to him.

“I’m sorry for hurting you guys.” You tell them.

“It’s ok. We understand.” Sam says.

“Don’t worry about it.” Natasha says.

All of you talked for a while until you got tired and wanted to go to bed.

“I’m happy that I got my doll back.” Bucky says, making you smile.

You smiled and laid your head on his chest and played with his dog tags.

“I love you, Bucky.” You say sleepily.

“I love you too, doll.” He almost whispers. “Get some rest.” He says.

“Will you be here when I wake up?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Of course I will. I’m never leaving you out of my sight again.” He says, leaning down and kissed you passionately.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[anika-ann]

Back and Forth - part 7

Part 7 - Step Forward

Type: series; agent!reader, inhuman!reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word Count: 15000 (cough-)

Chapter summary:  In which the heaviness of the past fall on you harder than before - but there might be someone more than willing to help you carry the weight.

Series masterlist

Warnings: deep-rooted issues with self-worth (result of shitty ‘parenting’), mentions of canon-typical violence and blood, unhealthy relationship with pain and one's self, language  feels and fluff ✨ Please, let me know any time if you think I missed any!

A/N: ALWAYS MIND THE WARNINGS; dividers by @firefly-graphics 💕; moodboard is for the vibes and does not necessarily reflect reader’s appearance

A/N2: hello, loves, thank you for your patience and enjoy the 15k worth of words. I'm afraid I have no advice as where to take break from reading. But stay hydrated and keep the tissues close. Enjoy ✨

Yesterday was a good day, you decided.

Hours had blended together and so it was rather difficult to draw sharp lines between days, even as there was no blessing such as forgetting a single minute of time spent in captivity due to your momentarily enhanced memory; but you had drawn a sharp line.

The gala, the kidnapping, the captivity and the rescue, that all had happened the day before; it might have as well happened in another dimension entirely.

On the other hand, waking up to Natasha and Steve, being visited by Daisy, who was picked up by Mack and May along with their greetings, a brief hello from Coulson, these happened yesterday. Way too much sleep, numerous check-ups and attempts at balancing your meds, finding out about the impending investigation of your mother, a therapy session, report writing and way too much sleep –those happened yesterday, but weren’t important.

Because yesterday was a good day.

Yesterday, giddiness filled you any moment you remembered Steve’s words: I just like you.

His warm smile.

The gentle touch of his hand.

Yesterday, a smile attacked your lips whenever you recalled his large hands holding up your face, tucking loose strands behind your ear, even if that memory was associated with pain and sweat and blood.

You’re being very brave, doll. I’m sorry, sweetheart.

I just like you.

See you soon, doll.

Yesterday, you giggled. You damn well giggled when the echo of his soft voice whispered the endearments to you so sweetly.

Sure, Daisy had a hand in that – she was just as giddy as you, probably even more so, with her eyes shining, so excited and happy for you. Her enthusiasm, despite carrying an air of naivety, was nothing short of contagious. You deserved a win, she said, and you believed her, accepted it as a fact for more than just a moment; and basking in the genuine warmth of hers, you didn’t feel guilty for being greedy, for thinking you deserved such a good thing to happen to you.

You didn’t feel bad for wanting, you didn’t feel bad for being so arrogant as to think you had a chance at not only happiness, but excellence, no matter how out of reach it usually appeared.

Yesterday, you were excited, because Steve said he would see you soon and he might as well have been saying ‘I’ll see you tomorrow’.

Today was the ‘tomorrow’.

And the feeling of glee and the butterflies in your stomach was replaced by a gaping hole filled with a cold coil of doubt, dread and, eventually, panic, as the sense of reality crept in and dug its nails straight into the edge of that hole and climbed out through your still open wounds.

The whole concept of yesterday was utter nonsense, which you should have known right away.

You had been taught better than to believe something as unplausible as this to be possible.

You felt like the stupidest person on Earth for entertaining the thought of this chance at happiness even for a moment.

Steve Rogers had said he liked you. Right.

Steve Rogers, Captain America, drop-dead gorgeous, annoyingly kind, utterly brilliant, absurdly stubborn and righteous and as close as humanly possible to perfect, had said he liked you. In romantic sense, unless your perception of other people’s emotion was entirely off; which surely was the case at times, but you did not believe that it was now.

The thing was, you did not have a single doubt in your mind that Steve had spoken the truth. He was one of those people who told no lie unless their life depended on it and maybe not even then, and he seemed so genuine in his care and interest in your well-being and youthat you would not only giggle with giddiness, but might actually weep.

However, the sudden source of anxiety curling in your stomach might as well be a gut feeling – an instinct you had been relying on ever since you had started at the academy and been told to listen to it at all times, because it was the most reliable tool an agent could ever gain, only improving with every single bit of experience gained. And it was very true, that; this very gut feeling had saved your life and the lives of others a hundred times.

The gut feeling was never wrong; even if it sometimes went against everything your purely rational thoughts whispered you to believe.

Today, the two – rationality and your gut feeling – came to a rare agreement.

Steve Rogers might have said he liked you, but there was no world in this universe in which that would be enough for him not to break your heart eventually. He wouldn’t want to and perhaps he would break his own in the process, because there was no world in which he’d intentionally harm another human being beyond actual physical fight with an enemy agent – but he would still do it.

And the reason for that was simple: Steve Rogers was too good to be true and despite that fact and against all laws of nature, he was true.

A guy like that was one in a million, if not in a billion. He was the impossible combination of kind, caring, fierce and handsome and had shoulders wide-enough to carry the weight of the world; but not even his shoulders were wide enough to carry a relationship based on mere, albeit genuine, care. Because that was what this was; care and lingering sense of compassion and belonging. You two had been through an extreme situation where the essential part of him, driving him to protect others, had been pushed into an overdrive and naturally, he had given in, dotting on you with utmost care and all gentleness he possessed.

And from his position as your superior, he might have approved of how you two had handled the situation. He might be riding on the sweet feeling of victory, even as you two hadn’t truly been the ones to deliver it. He might have been happy with your performance as an agent, as a colleague, even as it had been less than stellar. And there was no denying that you two had found a momentary understanding for each other in a situation that had left no other option, and it had served you as the sweetest relief, a calm shore in the raging sea of pain, fear and despair.

All that was true. And all that was bound to be temporary.

You had cared for him a long time before that, harboured feelings you shouldn’t have long before that. For him, it was much less than that: a feeling of affection having stemmed from crisis, lingering. A feeling that was about to run out of fuel soon enough.

And even if by some cosmic error it hadn’t been, you’d disappoint him eventually; an inevitable failure or even a mere misstep.

And a guy like him, almost the perfection incarnated, who could do so much better than that? He would turn his back to you then. He would get bored. He would have had explored the flare of passion, should you care for that term, and he’d realize that the spark had evaporated a long time ago. You’d be back to yelling and grunting and growling whenever you’d appear in each other’s immediate vicinity. Or maybe there’d be less of that; he’d be perfectly civil, but indifferent, acting like you two had never happened. Or, despite being the paragon of virtue he was, he’d push you away; probably into such elite position in SHIELD which would include zero interaction with him, making it look like an honour to you, while it would only serve to cover up for the fact he was simply looking for a way to kick you off the team to avoid you. Or perhaps the worst possibility of all – he’d stay with you out of pity despite not being happy, because Steve Rogers would never intentionally harm another human being beyond actual physical fight with an enemy agent.

And either of these scenarios would crush you.

When your therapist, whom you had had an appointment due to protocol, pried this information out of you long after you had exhausted the events of the mission, she expressed her compassion, confirmed your fears were valid and understandable, because she loved to do that, and warned you that you could become a self-fulfilling prophecy. To prevent that, she suggested more frequent sessions to help you deal and an extension of the session you were to share with Steve, because of course she did, and more importantly, she recommended you to talk about your feelings to Steve himself.

You nearly leaped for the door and ran despite the bullet holes in your thighs still closing.

Because that, that was not going to happen.

You weren’t sure how to handle with your predicament, but you knew that doing what she had suggested was not going to be it. You were not going to expose yourself even further than you already had, you were not going to show anyone, let alone Steve Rogers, any more of the mess you were; God knew he had seen more than enough for a lifetime and you were humiliated for just as long.

No.Telling him about these fears and doubts was certainly not an option. You would have to work out how to deal with what had happened yesterday and the day before and the night before, but revealing your raging emotions was not going to be the way – not if you wished to stay an Avenger and wanted to avoid pity and being labelled as insane and weak.

Yesterday was a good day.

Today was not.

And then Captain America strolled into your room with a cute bouquet of pink tulips, because of course he would guess you had a beef with roses, and with a slightly nervous smile on his lips, his arm still in a sling, because he healed on normal rate now since you had become the involuntary thief of his enhanced healing and--- your heart leaped to your throat, something ugly digging its nails into your stomach.

You smiled at him tightly, touched and irritated, because he was being his perfect self again, asking about how you felt and whether you had had a good time with Daisy and he smiled warmly when he said Coulson had talked to him; allegedly, he had been slightly star-struck still, wishing Steve an easy and early recovery, but had also warned him to take better care of one of his best agents and people he knew or else.

And you sat there, propped up on the bed, fisting the sheets and swallowing hard against the lump in your throat, painfully aware that you were staring at him, pretending that you didn’t feel the flutters of your heart over the gaping hole in your chest growing in size with every passing second. You should be able to appear calm and indifferent and goddamnit get a grip on your emotions or at least your reactions, but you seemed to lose all control over your body.

Because it was too much to handle even as it shouldn’t have been.

Because you could have this.

You could have this man for a while, this demi-god who, with only one fully functioning arm and actual gaping pain in his chest of his own, placed the flowers on your nightstand, moving effortlessly around the room and looked like he could lean to your face and kiss your cheek or forehead or do something else equally sweet any second.

But you were all to aware; you could only have this in some fever dream.

This scene didn’t only appear wrong because you had stolen his healing ability; this was you stealing someone else’s life.

This wasn’t how your life went.

You strived for excellence, but never succeeded. You didn’t catch an eye of people like him; and when you had, by some miracle, they didn’t stay. And Steve made for such an absurd sight; his beauty alone was blinding, and that was with a ghost of a prominent purple shiner on his right cheek, a cut above his brow and him otherwise injured, dressed in simple comfortable clothes; he had exchanged his hoodie and sweats for a henley and jeans. He was so infinitely good and handsome in his hesitance when he reached for a chair to pull up to your bed, stilling for a moment, his eyes finding yours.

“Can I?” he asked softly, a gentle furrow to his eyebrows, effectively confusing you by asking instead of questioning your silence.

“Of course,” you replied automatically, realizing that you had been, in fact, responding to whatever he had said, even if with a strained voice and in short.

Yeah, I’m better, thanks, the serum works wonders. How are you feeling? Is it time to switch?

Yeah, it was good to see her again.

Really? That’s nice of him…even if kinda rude.

Steve sat down, hands resting in his lap, observant gaze roaming your face, flickering to your own hands, following your line of sight as your own travelled to the flowers again and then reluctantly back to him.

He even brought you flowers. Really pretty flowers, one of your favourites, and he somehow managed to pick the right size of a bouquet for not seeming overbearing nor careless. Who the heck did that?

You noticed, however, that the blue of his irises lost some of its spark since the moment he had entered – and you hated it.

But that was barely a surprise, wasn’t it? You were acting strange, perhaps came off as hostile even. You were the kind of person who’d only dim him light more the longer he’d stay. It was no surprise he noticed your peculiar behaviour, and perhaps even the negative effect you had on his usual greatness. Of course he had noticed; he was a lot smarter than people gave him credit for, an unfortunate consequence of keeping people like Tony Stark, Bruce Banner or Natasha Romanoff for company.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said lowly, a sincere apology as he lightly beckoned with his chin to the vase of tulips – and you felt even worse than before for making him doubt his lovely gesture.

You gulped. “You didn’t.”

His creased eyebrows rose a fraction, along with one corner of his lips, an uncertain but telling smile, wordlessly calling your bluff.

It was a sweet image; your chest ached all the more for it, along with a flash of indignation and – as ashamed as you were for such an intense emotion – despair.

Just… why?

Why did he have to be like this? Why did he have to be so devastatingly handsome? Why did he have to be just so… perfect? You didn’t belong with perfect, you never could. You could have belonged with him in some alternate universe in which he was a handsome scumbag perhaps. Or an average-looking good guy. Or a handsome good guy, but at least dumb. Or even a handsome, smart and relatively-good guy, but completely unavailable; not looking at you like he wanted to tell you that you could tell him anything and he’d listen and he’d make everything right.

Your heart hammered in your ribcage almost painfully, pulse throbbing in your temples as your lips acted of their own volition.

“I’m just… I’m scared.”

Steve’s brows arched higher, but much to your surprise, he didn’t laugh; if anything, he pulled back a bit, as if he wanted to give you space.

That ass. He just had to be so scandalously considerate too, didn’t he?

Damn him. Damn him and his pretty eyes, wide with bewilderment, and that barely visible flash of hurt, which made you want to explain yourself even as admitting you were afraid in the first place was an insanity which you had not planned on participating in. What the hell was it with him and that anyway? You had never had a case of a loose tongue with anyone else, not even with him, not before that… stupid charity auction and all that followed it.

“…of me?”

Are you scared… of me?

“What—No!” you blurted out instantly, almost laughing at the absurdity of that idea. “No! Not at all, that’s-- I just-”

You physically bit your tongue, forcing your mouth shut with jaw so tight it ached, but it was for a good cause. Telling him was a terrible idea – you had concluded that already.

But then Steven Grant Rogers was a rare bird and he was also an incredibly annoying one; because once you had mentioned being afraid, you could almost see the metaphorical grip he had got on your words, unrelenting. He was not going to let an admission like that go. The unfairly soft but expectant look in his eyes told you so.

Oh damn you, Steven Grant.

Damn you, damn you, damn you.

Your thoughts were running hundred miles a minute and still, you had no idea what to say and how, not without sounding completely deranged.

“I just… you said you liked me.”

Even as you spoke the words, you wished you could somehow take them back and choose different ones; in a barely visible movement, Steve cocked his head to side, curious.

“Yes, I did,” he said, voice puzzled as much as his expression. “I do.”

You gulped, unsure how to respond to that, vainly searching in your mind once again.

There was no safe way out. Whatever you’d say, you’d only make it worse. If you hadn’t mentioned it at all, had you made literally anything up – though you doubted telling him you were afraid of the HYDRA doctor returning or another plausible thing would have made you look any less unstable – the words spoken yesterday might have been forgotten. But it was too late for that now; you couldn’t take it back. And you had no idea how to move forward.

And the flowers were so pretty.

Silence stretched for a few moments as you kept wondering, kept looking for the right words; but as it turned out, you didn’t have to.

A brief disappointment flashed on Steve’s face as he caught on – or caught on on enough – and then his expression returned to pleasant neutral.

It made you want to scream.

“I see. Well, I also said I’d never bring it up again if you just said the word,” he reminded you, voice absurdly, maddeningly soft.

It pissed you beyond belief; flames of undiluted rage and frustration licked up your fingers, gripping onto the already rumpled sheets.

Nothing but the tinniest hurt had showed in Steve’s expression and then it was gone. A mask, no matter how pleasant, was in its place, compassion almost, tender understanding even as he could understand nothing at all.

Fucking why? Why wasn’t he angry instead? Why wasn’t he letting you see it?

“I… meant that. I mean that,” he continued, the cerulean blue of his irises just a tinge sad, but kind. So irritatingly kind – because of course it was. He was a good guy, hell, he was the ultimate good guy, he couldn’t afford to look offended, or god forbid wounded. He had to keep face, because that who he was, people need someone strong to look up to, need a strong leader – he even told you that for god’s sake. No, nothing could touch him, because the troops needed someone to lean onto. Of course.

Then, naturally, there was another explanation.

An explanation that stung much worse than the idea that he simply wouldn’t let anyone see his true emotion: he had no hurt to hide whatsoever. You had been right about his past words being but a lingering flare of sentiment. And now, with you backing off, you actually offered him the out he needed, the out he perhaps wouldn’t have found the will to create himself in fear of hurting you. He had realized what you knew too – that his interest was a simple consequence of a stressful situation you had handled together.

But that was what you wanted, wasn’t it? You predicted it and you got it. Not a self-fulfilling prophecy – just a prophecy. Maybe the artifact had given you the gift of divine foresight as a bonus. You wished that it hadn’t; because for some stupid reason, having those silly hopes of having him – hopes you hadn’t suffocated soon enough – crushed, that really fucking hurt.

“I promise it doesn’t change anything. You won’t bear any consequences. I won’t treat you any worse for it,” Steve added, reassuringly – or at least he had probably meant for it to sound as such.

It had the opposite effect.

Treat you any worse?

Of course he wouldn’t. He would never. And you were such great friends to begin with, weren’t you?

The sardonic chuckle escaped you before you could stop it, causing Steve’s gaze to snap up from where your hands were gripping the sheets, confusion and slight offence – at last – lacing his expression. Your satisfaction at seeing that however, mixed with guilt for making it so.

“Sorry. I mean… I just--- that’s it, isn’t it? There’s not that much potential for it to get worse,”you spat that word, malice slipping into your voice even as you tried to swallow as soon as you tasted its bitterness on your tongue. He didn’t deserve that; this was your hurt and your problem. All he had done wrong was having a little unfortunate hand when choosing his words. And looking utterly perplexed now. “We don’t really know each other, never talked much. When we did, we argued, pretty much every time, so… you know. Not much potential. Going separate ways is probably for the best.”

A beat of silence. Second ticking by without as much as an exhale.

Yet, the air shifted ever so subtly, but dramatically.

That.

That was it.

Whatever you had mentioned did it and despite the punch to your stomach that seeing Steve’s face distorted with distress felt like, it also hummed of satisfaction. Anger. He was finally angry with you, like he was supposed to.

His jaw tensed, eyes hardening, as did his voice, even if it spoke of an insult you didn’t quite understand.

“I like to think that at least some of those fights stemmed from misunderstandings and lack of will to see each other’s perspective. Which, I believe, is something we started to work on yesterday, and the day before. I think we were communicating just fine during the auction too, and we handled what followed just as well, don’t you?” he argued, a hint of what was a distinctly Captain voice – one you knew all too well, because he had been using it when talking to you more often than with anyone else – taking over.

Your next words – and frankly, you were unsure what they would be – died on your lips.

Well.

It was safe to say you hadn’t expected this when seeing his indignation rise.

Obviously, you hadn’t planned on telling him any of this in the first place, but a part of you knew that had you imagined telling him this, in your mind he wouldn’t have… protested against you parting ways being for the better. He would have rather agreed in a hard collected voice, if for nothing else, than for keeping the stability of team.

But he did protest.

Of course he did.

After all, you two were in opposition more than often, weren’t you?

You swallowed against the large lump that had grown in your throat, your pulse thundering in your ears. Steve’s frown was far from concerned now and you instantly kicked the fraction of your heart that whispered of missing his tenderness to shut the hell up.

Steve appeared as if he was hiding the fact that he was beyond angry and Captain-level disappointed in you.

That was supposed to be a victory of yours of sorts – proving your point.

Because you had known that was coming eventually, hadn’t you? It just came a lot sooner; you had sped it up by slipping and made for it to arrive right away. And that was a good thing, wasn’t it? Because now, it came before you could actually tangle with him enough to make it hurt more later, when he’d leave after having you truly believe that you could somehow, by some cosmic flaw, be worthy of him.

So why did you feel nauseous and weak and like you might start crying? You were a grown-ass woman and you were one of the top agents this country had, an agent who had, no matter how barely, made it to the Avengers Initiative. This shouldn’t affect you, especially since you had known it was coming.

But here you were, desperately trying to gather your scattered thoughts and rendered mute. And your boss, Captain Steven Grant Rogers, was waiting for your response, challenge written all over his expression.

You gulped, sticking your chin up to regain some resemblance of posture and scraps of dignity. You even managed to make your lips not tremble, perhaps even smile a polite and pleasantly neutral smile, as you set off to explain your perspective.

Because this was a rational discussion, an exchange of perspectives Steve had mentioned. This was what your purely rational thoughts and your field-experience gut feeling told you and you should stand by it. Right?

“I suppose. But… well, it’s been pretty intense, hasn’t it? It was… what happened was a forced bonding experience, emotions flew high. I just… know from experience that those tend to settle sooner or later, tend to revert… to its original state.”

It would be almost comical, the perplexion on your Captain’s – just Captain’s – face, if it wasn’t accompanied by his frown hardening, him straightening in the chair, shoulders squaring despite his injuries, his gaze turning piercing.

It would be comical if it only didn’t feel like a stab straight between your ribs, because you had seen expressions so much softer on his stupidly handsome face and they had even been directed at you. Before; and that was long, long gone.

“What are you talking about?” he demanded stiffly, shaking your wobbly mask of confidence.

“I- I mean-…“

He watched you as you found yourself at loss for words all of sudden; expectant, eyes practically drilling into your skull now as you scrambled for words.

“What did you mean by that?” he repeated, defensive.

He wasn’t shouting, didn’t even raise his voice; but the lump in your throat grew suffocating anyway, all alarm bells ringing in your head as that one single emotion of his had crystalized so clear in his expression. Disappointment.

You could not afford having the Captain, your direct superior, so thoroughly disappointed in you.

Fix that. You had to fix that right now, had to get your head down and keep it there, crawl if necessary, because you were toeing the line. The line of being dismissed. The line of getting fired.

And that was not an option.

“I mean… what I mean by that is that I understand people are influenced by intense emotions and… when the dust settles, they can… change their mind,” you explained clumsily, ashamed of how meek your voice had suddenly become – but you couldn’t help it. You had to show remorse. Not for earning pity, but to show willingness to learn from your apparent mistake; it would not save you, but it might salvage a faint image of your determination and skill.

You looked up from your lap carefully; and instantly snapped your gaze back. Steve’s frown disappeared as if you had snapped your fingers, sudden understanding written all over his face instead, clear as day.

But it brought you no relief.

“You think that I said I liked you only… out of some adrenalin-fuelled impulse? Is that it?”

A layer of ice ten inches thick covered his deceivingly calm voice and yet, this time you could hear the hurt in it; the bitter chuckle that followed his words cut into your stomach, screaming how absurd he thought that your idea of what his motivations were was.

Absurd. Stupid. He thought you were stup-

“No!” you blurted out, despite thinking, knowing, meaning, exactly that. “I mean… yes--- I-- don’t know, I just-“

Steve scoffed. Peripherally, you saw him shaking his head, running his fingers through his hair and shaking his head again.

You had never felt so small, not in any of your previous fights – and that was saying something, an ice-cold shiver running down your spine, sweat beading on your burning skin.

Fix that.

“I’m so sorry, St— I’m sorry, Captain Rogers.”

He winced. He actually winced, you saw as much when your gaze flickered up to show the sincerity of your apology. The smile he gave you in return was tight, hard and unforgiving.

Not that you’d deserve forgiveness, would you?

“Well, so am I.”

He spoke the words just as he rose to his feet, his gaze betraying him and flickering to the vase with the gorgeous tulips he had set up. They now felt like an insult on their own.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated pathetically, feeling the tell-tale burn of tears in your eyes.

And god, were you pathetic. Steve had just shown a flicker of emotions he actually felt, just as you had asked him back at the HYDRA base; and now that he had, you wished he hadn’t. Because he was hurt by your assumptions, hell, perhaps by your rejection as well, at least to a point.

He was hurt and you were the one to blame it on.

You hadn’t meant to hurt him. You just didn’t want to get hurt either. You wanted to save you both from inevitable heartache that was to come. Was that really so wrong of you?

Steve took a deep breath, releasing it slowly; you remembered the terrible pain he had to suffer from his spectral injury and you felt like you might actually throw up. That was on you too. Because that was your messy powers to deal with, not his.

“I should go, let you rest. I do hope you’ll feel better soon,” Steve said, almost on autopilot, but once again, so annoyingly sincere in his well-wishes you wanted to yell at him and shake his shoulders. Why couldn’t he just really be angry with you? It was clear you had touched a nerve, you very obviously wounded him, but there he was, as close to stoic as possible, and generously wishing you well.

A part of you – one that you were deeply ashamed of – quite literally wanted to crawl from the bed to grip at whatever part of his body and beg him to snap at you again even as it was simultaneously the last thing you wanted him to do.

Tell me you hate me. Tell me you think I’m stupid, that I’m evil, a bitch. Show me you are fucking angry, show me you feel something, even if it’s hate, you wanted to shout or whisper or rasp. Anything.

But you had some remnants of dignity left and a position on the team to maintain. So you didn’t do any of that.

Instead, you reciprocated in a whisper: “You too. And I… I really am sorry.”

Steve’s smile, while still tight-lipped, turned softer despite his jaw strung so tight it might cut glass.

“Don’t be. I am glad we cleared it up. I made a promise and I will keep it,” he declared lowly before he sighed and turned to the door, adding in a barely audible voice: “I hope you can trust me to do that at least.”

It was always that last straw that broke camel’s back, wasn’t it?

His barely-there whisper, one you likely weren’t meant to hear, because normal human ears probably wouldn’t – and it broke the dam you had so feebly tried to keep together. The tears sprung from your eyes, a rush of shame, desperation and anger bubbling to the surface, making your voice creak as your cried out.

“Goddammit, Steve, I trust you with my LIFE!”

At the sound of your distress, his head snapped back at you – because of course it fucking did, the caring asshole of a Captain – looking over his shoulder. His carefully crafted facade crumbled a fraction at the sight of your tears, his words slow and quiet.

“But not that I know how I feel?” he asked lowly. “Don’t trust me enough to-”

“I don’t trust myself, okay?!” you cried out, spilling the one truth that no one, no one was supposed to know. He turned to you fully, two surprised blinks of the sea of blue you could drown in; but you were drowning in your own tears instead, words spilling from your lips before you could stop them in between your heavy hitchy breaths, someone seemingly having sucked all air from the room. “I don’t trust myself to--- to keep you interested, not to bore you—to disappoint you somehow within a goddamn month! Because I never can-- I can never keep it up! I don’t trust myself to--  They always leave, everyone does--- sooner or later, because I’m never enough for any-- fuck.”

You choked on the last word, hand slapping over your mouth, forcefully suffocating any other words that might spill out at any cost. You had to stop this very fucking second.

Because Steve stared at you, rendered speechless.

You could only withstand the intensity of his gaze for few moments, before you buried your face in your hands, embarrassment enveloping you like a straitjacket filled with itchy powder; a fabric that trapped you without a chance of escape, but with tears drenching your face, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to judgement. An acute sensation of needing to crawl out of your skin tied your hands and your tongue alike.

You bit your tongue to keep the sob bubbling in your throat inside, humiliated enough for a hundred lifetimes; and all the more when it struck you over and over that hiding your face was so incredibly childish – your companion, your superior, had already witnessed your hysteria and could still see you.

And boy had he seen more than enough.

God, what you had been thinking – you hadn’t been,that was the problem – springing all that on him, crying in front of him--- You needed to pull yourself together, you had to do that right this goddamn second, or he really was going to mark you as mentally unstable and kick you out of the team. And hey, Coulson was still nearby perhaps, they could just seat you on a plane and-

“It’s not fair to judge me based on your past experience, no matter how bad,” Steve whispered tightly, interrupting your train of thought, and the sob you had tried to stifle so hard clawed its way out pathetically, a lovechild of a sardonic laugh and a wail.

He was right. Of course he was right. But that wasn’t what you were doing. It wasn’t that, it wasn’t--- alright, it was that too, but mainly it was your gut feeling, it was what kept you alive-

“I know. I know. I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m scared. I know it’s not fair, but… what you said, I--- you like me? It’s--- it’s too unreal. It’s too fast. It’s-“ you were mumbling, probably incomprehensible, so you dropped your hands, daring to glance at him through your tears, glad you couldn’t quite decipher his expression. You chuckled bitterly – why were you still talking, what was it about this damn man that made you so unacceptably, unforgivingly and most of all brutally honest? He had already heard more than enough and yet you seemed unable to shut the hell up. “Come on, you gotta know that half of the reason why I always react to you the way I do is ‘cause you’re pretty much perfect-“

Did he just grind his teeth loud enough for you to hear-?

“-and I’m not. I know that in my goddamn bones. I always fuck up. I try my best, but my best is so damn far from perfect, case on fucking point- and I’m just scared even though I know I shouldn’t be scared of anything. I’m scared that as fast as we went from--- from yelling at each other and clashing to… to you bringing one of my favourite if not the most favourite flowers and all your damn sweetness and more respect than I deserve, your goddamn thoughtfulness-“

You gestured to the tulips and him, respectively, with both hands, because damn was he too large to encompass with a gesture of a single hand.

“And we’ll switch back to that--- that antagonism again, or dull indifference just as fast and-“ You gulped, catching your breath, staring at your comforter because you couldn’t admit that when facing him, not even with whatever magical truth serum his presence was, your voice falling quiet-

“-and it will devastate me.”

It will devastate me, because getting a taste of true happiness beyond the one born out of solid work and then losing it… it will kill me. It’s addictive – I know it is. Just like life without pain. And going back to normal will truly, irreparably devastate me.

Heavy silence settled over the room. Even without looking at Steve, you could feel the weight of his judgement and shock. With a wavering sigh, you hid your face in your hands again, squeezing your eyes shut, licking your lips; they seemed dry as sandpaper in contrast to your drenched cheeks.

“I’m truly sorry. About… that, springing all that on you and this—whatever pathetic shit it is,” you croaked, chuckling humourlessly, finding yourself actually too drained to feel as horrified as you should. Polite. You had to gather strength to be politeat least. “Could you--- could you please leave me alone? You should rest too. You’re more like a normal human now, you need time to hea-- that’s--- I’m sorry, that’s none of my business, I-- Captain.”

The lump in your throat had grown to such size there was no space for air to go in and out. Your throat working against it as you swallowed was the only movement of the statue you had become – hoping and praying your Captain to take the hint, pricking up your hearing to know the exact second the door would shut behind him so you could break further, alone.

A shaky inhale. A wavering exhale.

Silence.

A sigh.

Two steps; approaching, not retreating.

A scrape of the chair.

A gentle whisper of your name.

Your hands dropped, a feeble flicker of anger in your chest. You had literally just asked him to leave.

Yes, you had hurt him; yes, you had thrown a fit that would have probably had you hospitalized in a mental institution had you not had medication to blame it on, but did this have to the part where Steven Grant goddamn Rogers decided to be defiant? Couldn’t he have been considerate now, considerate enough to oblige you request to leave you in your laughable state of disintegration?

You attempted to shoot him an unimpressed glare, an uncompromising expression telling him to get the hell out.

It crumbled the second you saw him leaning forward on his healthy elbow propped on his thigh, soft, soft gaze roaming your damp blotchy face and no doubt red eyes. God, you had to look like a mess and he should not see you like this, no one should ever, ever see you like this—

Evading his painfully seeing gaze, you searched for the box of tissues; only to be handed it by him as if to accentuate your humiliation.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry-“

Steve repeated your name calmly, no doubt grimacing when you blew your nose loud and tried to clean your face a bit, probably failing. You inhaled shakily, then exhaled, in and out, licking your lips before you gathered enough courage to look up for at least for a moment.

Why the hell was he still here? Had he texted a mental hospital when you hadn’t been looking, making it his mission to guard you until they arrived? That would have been entirely legitimate thing to do, you were aware of that.

Once you met his eye, he held your gaze firmly, leaving no escape; you had no idea how he did that or how to free yourself. There was just something about this man, you swore-

“Let me clear one thing up. You are everything but pathetic,” Steve said slowly, emphasis on every syllable, practically spitting the last word.

“Really fucking debatable,” you muttered under your breath, wiping your nose again as if to unintentionally prove your point.

But thank god, at least you managed to stop more tears from spilling.

“No, it’s really fucking not,” Steve mimicked your words and it should feel insulting, but for some reason, it made your belly flutter a bit and your heart do a funny flipflop, because you were quite sure you had heard him drop but one F-bomb before despite the fact he had earned the right to curse incessantly with everything he had been through. “Captain’s orders. But now, I need you to clear one thing for me. Really clear it up this time, please.”

You felt bone tired all of sudden; which meant you felt like clearing up nothing. But he was your Captain. And he was, for some inexplicable reason, endlessly patient and even said ‘please’, so you’d answer anything, because there was nothing left to hide anymore. You had already revealed the darkest, ugliest parts of you, leaving you completely naked even as you sat here dressed in a hospital gown and under a thick comforter,.

You sighed, folding your hands in your lap, reciprocating his gaze in a lame attempt at bravery.

“And what’s that, CaptainRogers?”

To his credit, this time he barely moved at you addressing him in that manner; the intense sincere gaze on your tear-soaked face didn’t falter, his irises the most beautiful blue with a light speckle of green you had ever seen; a safe calm sea enveloping you sweetly and seeing right through you clearer and clearer the deeper you sank into it.

“Do you like me?”

All feigned bravery gone, you closed your eyes.

It figured he would ask that; it made sense. You didn’t remember every word of your outburst – well, you probably did, but didn’t wantto look back at it – but you assumed it was painfully clear from what you had word-vomited all over him that that might be the case. That you did very much liked him indeed.

There was no point in denying how you felt, was it? Steve was a smart man, brilliant even; even with the ambiguity of your behaviour, he had figured out the truth already. He was truly only asking for clarification; which was fair, because god knew that besides being hysterical, you had also been sending quite mixed signals.

His question was ridiculously worded, too, like one of a first grader to another, but you assumed that was what you deserved after having thrown a tantrum like a child indeed; and simplicity often carried the most power of all. A single word could break hearts or mend them; it could decide the fate of empires, have them burn to the ground or forge alliances to rebuild them.

A single word could mean the difference between life and death; a single word, and the course of a life could drastically change.

You didn’t dare to open your eyes when you whispered one word just like that, knowing it might change everything.

“…yes.”

A hitch of a breath.

A beat of silence.

A rustle of fabric and faint creak of a chair; he must have shifted in his position, but you refused to check.

“Well… as far as rapid changes go, that’s one for me. A really fast U-turn at that,” Steve said, contemplative – with the faintest hints of non-ill-intended teasing.

You opened your eyes slowly, fully aware of him not having said that he liked you back – but you did not think you’d deserve as much. Not to mention that he had already said so yesterday. Yesterday had been a good day.

Gulping, with your heart racing, you met his gaze again, moved by what you found; his gaze was warm and open and generously nonjudgemental. Hopeful even – and perhaps a little teary too.

Drowning in the sea of blue again, the words were slipping from your lips before you could think twice.

“Not to me.”

There’s nothing new to me about that.

I told myself I hate you. I often acted like I did, but I don’t. I like you. I’ve always liked you. I’ve always liked you and knew I could never compare. I admire you for all you are, I… like you for it. So much that it’s suffocating me.

As your admission brought a lovely smile to Steve’s lips, you were glad you didn’t share the rest of your thoughts.

“Good. I’m glad to hear that, since I feel the same,” he whispered tenderly, almost shyly, before his voice gained its firmness again – one of a leader, a fair one, a kind one. I just like you. “So… to sum up, despite what we believed we thought about each other, we discovered that we actually like each other. That… makes me very happy, but it doesn’t mean we have to-- it doesn’t mean we can’t take it slow.”

Your heart skipped a beat, painfully so, as if it got punched, and then broke into a mad race; your breath hitched, a single stunned word escaping you.

“What?”

The way your voice wavered was incredibly awkward, you were aware – but what?!

“If your concern is about things going too fast and burning out just as fast… then we can make sure to start by building a stronger foundation and take it slow. With no schedule or expectations,” Steve continued with patience you were sure you did not deserve, but with every word, you were only growing more and more confused.

You blinked, trying and failing to process his words. Words that made something very, very warm and fuzzy grow in your chest, your eyes beginning to burn with fresh tears.

It was safe to say that going too fast was not your only concern – but it was the one you admitted to and damn well meant it. And Steve, bless his heart, instantly rolled with the punch, taking it into consideration, because he--- he genuinely seemed to want to make this, whatever it was, work.

It was certainly true that if you walked into the relationship, so to speak, instead of rushing in like fools – if you got the feel of each other in immediate proximity, saw how you worked first, instead of jumping in head first only to find out that you didn’t work all that well – you might end up landing softer instead of meeting a brutal crash and burn. You knew you’d fall for Steve deeper either way, the occupational hazard of being in his vicinity with no intentionally built wall of forced contempt, but it would feel safer.

It was something you’d be much more willing to risk; there was absolutely no denying that and you had to bite your tongue as not to yell an immediate naïve yes.

Because it sounded like a whole lot of work. A lot more effort than Steve should have to put in, with women quite literally lining up to win over his heart, all of them offering him to share love a hundred times easier than this.

And yet, this infuriatingly gorgeous man was watching you patiently, appearing as if putting in that work didn’t bother him at all – and you wouldn’t be as crass as to question whether he realized his options, because you knew he was too intelligent not to. It felt like a conscious and entirely informed decision.

Which made no damn sense.

“You… wouldn’t mind that,” you stated more than asked, internally cringing at your choice of words.

“No. In fact, it might be a good idea, because I do see your point. We don’t know each other that well even as I feel I know quite enough, we didn’t interact outside of our job, so… let’s start there,” Steve suggested as if it was. Not. A. Big. Deal.

As if you weren’t negotiating term of a potential relationship but talked about where to go for lunch.

Except his intent and tender gaze told you he was all too aware of the gravity of his proposal – and that it mattered to him.  And it sure as hell mattered to you.  The fact he was still sitting there instead of shutting the door behind him as he would have stormed off mattered most of it all, telling you already that if there would be an eventual crash and burn, it certainly wouldn’t be on him. He had to know that too.

And yet he was still here, suggesting this.

That feeling in your chest was rapidly expanding and you had no idea how to stop it and whether you wanted to stop it in the first place.

“…as in, let’s try to become… friends, is what you’re saying.”

Steve shrugged lightly, one corner of his lips rising a tad higher; adorably so. “Sure, we can call it that. Or something else, or nothing at all. Just… let’s try get to know each other better.”

“Just like that?” you questioned, still stunned.

“Yes.”

“You-… you’d want that.”

“Yes.”

“But-” He tilted his head, almost looking as if he wanted to scold you for your continued protests which only undermined you, but he stopped himself last minute, giving you a gentle teasing smile instead, as to encourage you to talk about what you genuinely could not wrap your mind around. “I just—I mean… I disappointed you already. You’re rightfully angry – or were at least. I hurt you, just now.”

You felt like a child learning about adult matters for the first time and probably looked that too – but it was simply such an ungraspable concept you couldn’t seem to help it. Especially since Steve was everything but condescending about it and you would be worse than a half-wit not to use that opportunity.

“True. A little,” he admitted and while it stung to hear it, you couldn’t say you weren’t grateful for him not denying it and thus not making you feel like an idiot any more than necessary. “But like I said, I do see your point. I might not entirely agree, but you’re right in one thing for sure. You might trust me with your life – your words not mine, as much as I cherish them –, and I trust you with mine, but this… this requires a different kind of trust. So let’s try to build it and see how it turns out.”

Let’s try to build it and see how it turns out.

Just like that.

You were rendered entirely speechless.

Your lower lip was a second from wobbling and you bit your cheek in hopes to stop it, but there was no stopping the rapid acceleration of your heart; at this point, it galloped faster than in a middle of a taxing mission.

Because you might need to have Steve’s suggestions explained to you as if you were a child, but you had more wits than that. By offering to do this, Steve was putting his own feelings into jeopardy too; to offer this, he really had to have some feelings for you – for some insane reason – and he was risking them growing when entering this arrangement. He was risking he’d get burned too.

And to do that, he had to believe you were worth it.

And goddamn if that didn’t make you barely swallow your tears as it became harder and harder to breathe. It shouldn’t have stunned you, you supposed – not with the words he had spoken before, even if back in the cell, it would have been easy to dismiss the words as a soothing lie instead of the truth.

‘It was never my intention to make you feel like anything less than absolutely incredible. What I actually believe is that you are that and more,’ he had said.

He meant it. He truly did.

Now, he must have mistaken your silence for hesitance, because he carefully spoke up again.

“That is, of course, if that’s something you’d li-“

“Yes! …yes,” you repeated, softer this time. Still, your mind was racing as fast as your heart, in uncontrollable overdrive. “I’d really like that, but… but that doesn’t seem fair to you.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged, features relaxing; he understood he had convinced you to try. He understood you agreed, but he was, as it seemed to be a constant in the past two days, interested in your perspective still.

“How so?”

“What if-” you started off, instantly earning a raised eyebrow. And you got his point, seeing no point in wallowing in what ifs – but he hadn’t heard what you had to say yet. “What if it doesn’t work out? What if we start… building that trust, be--- friends, and it turns out there’s nothing else waiting down the line? You’d waste your time and energy for nothing.”

Worse; you’d waste it on me.

It seemed Steve heard the unspoken too, judging by a small frown appearing on his face, not approving.  But he was prepared – probably because it had taken you forever to put your thoughts into words.

“How is that a waste?” he questioned, not expecting an answer. “Do you consider getting to know me and becoming friends a waste of time then?”

You shot him an ugly, ugly look for hitting the nail on the head, because well, of course you didn’t – and he grinned boyishly, clearly having received your answer loud and clear.

You wished you were as brave and as strong as him – as big of a person. It felt like such a stark contrast, his behaviour and composition and yours. You had made a scene, you had insulted him and made him angry, you had hurt him.

And yet here he was, not only offering an alternative, genuine care and compassion and understanding, but himself too. He was willing to go slow for you. Build a friendship, build trust. For you. And it didn’t feel like the dynamics of the team was the thing he cared about the most. For some reason, it truly seemed to be about you. And him.

How could you measure up to that? a voice in the back of your head asked, a nasty bite to your conscience; but Steve was looking at you as if you already had. And you wanted to prove him right. For him and yourself.

You allowed yourself a brief reprieve before composing yourself, and let all your feelings wash over you, allowing yourself to feel them.

You granted yourself the dangerous luxury of fully entertaining the thought, of believing Steve didn’t give a damn about those women lining up, because he was genuinely interested in you, even if it meant putting in the work from the start. And that while the past two days have contributed to that, it seemed he had harboured certain feeling for longer.

And when you tried your damnest to apply that optics on his past actions, it was nothing short of mind-blowing how it could all actually make sense.

The fact he worried about your safety and well-being possibly being the reason why he had had trouble controlling his frustration around you, when you massively prioritized the mission objective to considering your own safety. He simply wouldn’t want you to get hurt.

The fact you had called him out on being a hypocrite only fuelling his anger, but the feelings he might have struggled with being the match to gasoline, contradiction of, on one hand agreeing, with you – he was barely someone not risking his life in name of protecting others – and on the other hand, utterly hating seeing you do the same. The feelings that got in the way, leading him to yell at you, even when you did what many of his friends did on daily basis and him seemingly appreciating it in them.

The way his eyes had lingered on you in the quinjet the night of the charity auction. The bold thought it might have not been strictly mission-related, might not have been memorising the dress which would have taken him a split second to do with his enhanced memory. Just maybe, maybe appreciating the sight of you, his compliment reaching beyond professional courtesy.

His behaviour the whole night perhaps being beyond what he considered being civil, being a gentleman, beyond trying to put out the dumpster fire the team dynamics became when you clashed with him. That it might, just might be him taking the opportunity to smoothen things out and make the most of the night in the sense of building a base for something not only much more amicable, but even something beautiful and fragile.

His soft, careful touch, a little tremble to his hands when he had taken care of you back in that base, nerves and fear and reassuring, affectionate and entirely unnecessary touches to comfort you rather than treat your wounds.

Entertaining all these thoughts was dizzying. It felt like walking on the ledge twenty stories high. And you were terrified of the fall.

It wasn't that the idea of a man being interested in you was a foreign concept; Steve would hardly be the first one. You weren't stupid enough to believe men never found your line of work or your appearance attractive; but entertaining the idea of Steve being that man to truly want you, even as it seemed more plausible by the minute... that did feel like you were balancing on your tiptoes on that ledge, just to tempt fate.

But what you had agreed to try, that felt like Steve standing on that ledge with you, just as prone to slipping and falling as you. He had given you power. You could easily push him off that ledge, throw it back to his face, try to turn that vulnerability he had shown against him, through HR if nothing else, twist it into some sort of unwanted advances, even as it was the farthest things from what he was doing or what you wanted to do.

And as he stood all the way up there with you, he was holding your hand. He was there and you knew he would strap you into a parachute himself to keep you safe even if he didn’t have one himself in case you were to fall; he'd dive right after you to save you without wearing any protective gear himself, just to take the brunt of impact, because that was who he was, on the battlefield or outside of it, because that was the standard he held himself against. This was how he lived and already died once.

You two were talking about building trust; but the truth was that deep down, maybe you knew you could put that trust in him already, and it wasn’t just about keeping you safe during missions.

You were kidding yourself when you spoke of nothing waiting down the line; whether you liked it or not, you were already falling for him, already had, because there was no other way with this gorgeous bastard.  

“Well… I’d like that very much then,” you choked out at last, Steve’s smile shining all the brighter for that.  “But I really am sorry I hurt you.”

He made a noncommittal sound. “I’ve had worse.”

Like getting shot in the chest?

Being leaned forward to you like that had to hurt like hell – but you hadn’t realized it until now. He was very good at hiding his pain, but you supposed that didn’t really surprise you.

He had been good at hiding a lot of things, apparently.

“Still sorry.”

“And I appreciate it.”

His smile remained genuine and warm as he said so, even as comfortable silence settled after that. It reminded you of the way he had introduced you during the function – and damn if that didn’t feel like it had happened at least a week ago – full of pride and faith. Like he believed without an ounce of doubt that you were able to do anything you’d put your mind to. And it helped you remind yourself that there had been rare times when you had believed that to.

The sudden urge to repay him, to reciprocate the kindness he was more than worthy of, to be as good as he was – the best possible version of yourself at least – had you blurting out the words before you could think twice.

“Is there anything I can do to make up for it?” you asked, instantly wincing at the overenthusiastic tone, the stupidity of the question and its – genuinely unintended – sexual subtext. “Sorry, that was a stupid question, I don’t know what I was-”

“Actually, there is,” he interjected, your eyebrows arching in surprise, heart skipping a startled beat. “You could finally join us for a board game night for once. Sam is in, Pepper and Tony too, Natasha should be back from her recon mission later. I’m sure Wanda will join in too and Bucky never misses an opportunity to show off.”

Oh.

Even as the last remark had the corners of your mouth twitch, you worried your teeth over your lower lip.

A board game night sounded… overwhelming, to say at least. But also rather fun. There had been maybe one or two nights together like that since you had joined the team, events you hadn’t participated in; but the laughter could be heard all over the Tower to your rooms. It had always made you question whether you shouldn’t try to join, feeling out of place in your room as much as you feared you would have felt out of place with them.

Perhaps joining this little event would be a nice, safe first step into the ‘friendship’ you and Steve had agreed on entering; with other Avengers around, you would still be spending time together, but there there would be less pressure to interact only with exclusively.

“No pressure. Honest,” Steve added quickly, clearly noticing your hesitation. “Just a night in with friends – if you want.”

Because that is what they are to you too – your friends, you heard unspoken.

And maybe it was the serum coursing your veins still, maybe it was the hint of uncertainly in Steve’s voice as he suggested it, the quiet hope – the olive branch extended even if you didn’t quite deserve it. Affection wrapped in a simple offer of spending time together. He believed you were worthy of it; whether this view of his would last or not, you’d take the chance. Because he deserved it.

And perhaps so did you.

Steve watched you, expectant but careful, truly trying his best to show there was no obligation. Too good; too kind.

It felt like you needed to remind him that despite what he had witnessed a few moments ago, you were not entirely made of glass. That beyond being an utter mess, you could hold your own at times too.

“I don’t know, Steve…”

He breathed in, a quick flash of disappointment in his expression, one he was just as quick to hide. Your gaze fell to the covers as you bit back a smirk. You almost, almost felt bad when he rushed to assure you.

“That’s perfectly fine. I understand. You-“

“I just don’t see how kicking your ass in a board game could make up for anything, you know?” you interrupted him quietly, peeking up at him from under your eyelashes, just in time to see his jaw fall slack a fraction, his back falling back to the chair with a barely-there astonished chuckle.

Laughter danced in his irises now, one corner of his lips lifting in a smirk.

“Oh, is that how it is, huh?”

“Yup,” you popped the p, a grin shyly tugging at the corners of your lips when you saw his amusement. Amusement you brought there.

“That’s quite the confidence, Agent Spectre. You don’t even know what games we play.”

You shrugged, the smile tugging insistently on your lips now; you caught yourself leaning forward, closer to him – and for some reason, an unexpected surge of confidence told you it was okay. More than okay.

“True. Then again, I never really played any, so I’ll be lost anyway. But… I’m a fast learner when I want to be.”

Something flashed in Steve’s eyes, be it at your words or your posture; something that made your stomach somersault a bit, pleasantly so.

“I bet you are, doll. I know you are.”

You had not been prepared for the shot of heat flooding your veins, but you certainly didn’t find it unwelcomed. If anything, you drank from with vigour it like from a glass of a fine sweet wine, going into your head just as fast, your gaze involuntarily flickering to Steve’s  lips, the sight of them making your stomach do a funny flip-flop.

“Oh? And what else do you know?”

“A thing or two. Like that I’d rather have you on my team.”

You could melt at him saying that, both painfully sincere and playful. That was an awfully sweet sentiment, wasn’t it? You swallowed the brief hysteria that tried to overtake over your brain at the idea of him talking about your place in the Avengers instead of simply joining him in a team-up in a boardgame, sinking into his gaze instead, growing more intense by the second, feeding your confidence further.

“Is that right? Don’t want to play against me? Am I that intimidating to our mighty Captain?” you teased him lightly in a low voice.

And once again, you found yourself entirely unprepared for his reaction. Thoroughly unprepared.

God, his eyes darkened so prettily, pupils dilating a fraction, gaze flickering down to your lips and lingering for a moment, body leaning forward, the predator and the prey caught in a trap at once.

Challenging. Teasing. The mighty Captain. He liked that.He had asked you multiple times not to call him that; now with what he had confessed to before, it dawned to you that maybe, just maybe, there had been more to that request than he had felt mocked. You saved that important observation for later use.

“Maybe you are,” he whispered, his voice earning a huskier quality that spoke of that not quite being the case – and spoke of an entirely different emotion. “Or maybe I just know what I want.”

Fresh surge of burning heat spread all over you, your stomach making another mad flip. Your heart reached its speed limit, every beat painful with its ferocity, but oh so thrilling.

You were in a process of quite literally melting from inside out, searing hot sensation in your belly, when Steve suddenly winced and backed away into his chair, his intrigued expression rapidly shifting into an apologetic one.

“I’m sorry, that was--- I wasn’t—I meant that when I said there was no pressure, of any kind. I said we should—and you agreed and I’m more than fine with it, I just got carried--- which isn’t an excuse-“

You rushed to lean in further, ignoring the stab of pain in your legs as you did so and placed your hand over the fist curled on his thigh, effectively shutting him up as the warmth in your chest bloomed. You couldn’t seem to stop your smile from turning softer and wider, as Steve had stumbled over his words, so mindful of not coming off as forceful. Considerate. Kind. Sweet. But goddamn also so insanely attractive, his words having whispered of passion humming under that composed gentle exterior, passion you’d like to explore thoroughly… and repeatedly.

What did it matter your cheeks burned at initiating the touch when in reality you wanted to do much more? Preferably to smack your mouth on his to shut him up for real and show how you felt about his flirting and consideration alike, how the look in his eyes had almost literally set you on fire? How you had to remind yourself that going slow was a reasonable idea you appreciated, because that flicker of something in his expression had nearly made you want to forget all about reason?

He deserved to know; but you searched for gentler words, less rushed. Because building that firmer foundation he had talked about was worth it.

“Steve. It’s fine. You did not exactly hear me protest, did you? …thought so. If anything, I’m… flattered. And I’m not entirely made of glass,” you added self-deprecatingly, earning a quiet but decisive ‘I’m well-aware.’ “Now, if you want me on your team… I’ve got your six. Like I know you’ve got mine. Plus… someone has to protect our fearless leader, right?”

Your words echoing the ones back from the Hydra base had not been an accident; and Steve recognized them even in a vastly different context. He had to, because his tensed shoulders sagged a bit, torso leaning closer again; his fist relaxed too, turning palm up, opening for your hand to slip into his. The firm yet careful squeeze to your hand was only the warmer as it was joined by his smile.

“Well. I can’t say I have ever felt safer then.”

The flutter of your heart at the sincerity of his words was unexpected, but all the sweeter. Because once again, he seemed to mean it; and you had never realized not only how true these words were for you too, but also how insanely the idea of Steven Grant Rogers, the kindest and strongest human you had met, feeling safe with you, would take your breath away.

“Good. Me too,” you agreed softly. In the back of your mind, a familiar tune hummed tenderly, your heart fluttering again at the sheer warmth in Steve’s gaze. “I think we’ll make a good team, stranger.”

His thumb swept over the back of your hand as if there was nothing more natural in this world. And perhaps there wasn’t.

“Yeah. I think we will.”

The evening found you in the common room indeed, the space already buzzing with low chatter and clinking of glasses and mugs, nondescript radio music playing in the background.

Scattered around the living room adjoined to the communal kitchen, Tony, Pepper, Natasha, Sam, Bucky and Wanda were distributing drinks and plates with various snacks, mock-fighting for what they believed to be the best spot on the couch or this armchair or that one, or simply talking, giving the room an air of a venue of a nuclear family gathering rather than one of the couple of colleagues. As you and Steve walked in together – well, he walked, you rolled in on an electric wheelchair for the time being – it gave you a brief pause, an unpleasant feeling of being an intruder crawling up your spine, an instinct to turn on your wheels and roll away tugging at your mind even though you had once or twice reluctantly joined a very similar family back at the main SHIELD base.

Back then, you’d have Skye to nudge you in, even going to such lengths as loudly announcing your presence in various ways so it would be more embarrassing for you to flee; a sneaky, evil way of making you stay she’d pull every single time she believed you had had even the faintest desire to be there and socialize with other people than her.

Now, you had Steve by your side; and he didn’t push, not even when you caught Wanda’s encouraging smile, her lips curling up just a bit when she spotted you; just as warmly as when she had brought you a few essentials and outfits from your rooms at the Tower. Apparently, the system only permitted another Avenger to enter your quarters upon your request unless you were present at your door – which was a regulation you’d complain about since you had needed to get your things and you had been on a strict bedrest for at least a few more hours, which had forced you to bother an Avenger. You had a creeping suspicion it was a regulation Tony had made on spot when you had been bedridden, to make you socialize – it wouldn’t be the first time now, would it – but there was nothing you could have done about that. Wanda had been kind enough to answer your awkward plea, entering your mind as respectfully and briefly to find out what you wanted as she did with your private space.

You reluctantly reciprocated her smile, hearing Steve shift behind you; yet, he didn’t rush you to take the final step.

He had picked you up in your hospital room just as one of the nurses was helping you settle in the wheelchair, a concerned scowl on his face as if he was scolding you for not waiting for him to help you instead; and while you tried not to let it show, you did have to admit that even without the serum coursing his veins, he would have probably been able to help you avoid putting so much weight on your legs better. That was, had he not still had his arm in a sling which he conveniently seemed to forget. You were willing to forgive his hypocrisy this time only because it truly hadhurt and because his scowl gave way to a smile after your simple “shall we?”

“Of course. It’s good to see you out of the bed,” he had said, his eyes lighting up a bit indeed as his gaze roamed your body. “Anything I can help with?”

‘Clear the way if I decided to run – roll away – at the last moment,’ you wanted to retort, swallowing the remark and shaking your head instead with a silent “thanks”, deciding to focus on little joys offered instead – like Steve’s soft smile or the way the blue of his henley brought out the cerulean of his eyes or the faintest traces of smile lines framing them.

“Then into the lion’s den we go.”

Back then, you could hear the hints of humour in his voice; but as you took a deep breath before finally taking the figurative last step, your ribcage tight, it felt like you were entering exactly that.

“Heeey, look what the Cap dragged in!” Bucky greeted you loudly, causing you to jump at the noise and mainly at all heads snapping to you and Steve.

Starting just stellar, you thought to yourself darkly, arranging a polite smile despite your heart thundering and screaming at you to run with every rapid beat. 

“Har har, Buchanan. Mind your own business,” Steve snapped from behind you, his voice carrying tension, but no malice. If anything, there was a light humour laced between his protective words.

“Ouch, full name, you’re in trouble, James Buchannan Barnes,” Sam commented with a grin, earning an eyeroll from the supersoldier – and a second later, Bucky was staring at you and Steve again, grinning as well.

“I think he’d much rather mind yours,” Natasha hummed as she set down her cocktail, beckoning at your pair in greeting. “Hey you guys.”

“Well too bad for him,” Steve said, stepping further into the room, a wordless prompt for you to do the same.

Into the lion’s den indeed. But at least they were friendly lions. Right? Why did it still feel like it would be safer to jump into the literal snake pit with no weapon but your own fists?

“Do you need any help?” Wanda asked sweetly, practically rushing to your side.

It reminded you of her earlier enthusiasm; your smile automatically grew, genuine. You simply shook your head with a low but heartfelt ‘no, thank you’.

“Is she here voluntarily?” Tony questioned, stealing your attention. “Casper, if you want to get out of here, blink twice, I’ll save you. Blink thrice if he threatened to shoot you to get you here.”

“Stark!”

“Tony!”

Despite all the heads snapping back at the man, it was Steve and Pepper who cried out; and you couldn’t but snort undignifiedly when Tony’s head whipped to Steve on instinct, and only then slowly, oh so slowly as if he was terrified, he turned his head from the hulking form of a semi-supersoldier to the petite woman that was his wife, clearly indicating who was the one inspiring more fear in him.

“What? It is too soon?”

Pepper just kept glaring at him, without a word – an answer in its own right.

It only now dawned to you why they had snapped at him, why Tony had asked if it was too soon. They were worried. About you. About how you’d react, about whether you’d fold down like a house of cards at a mention of a gun, whether you’d break like a weakling, like—

Except it wasn’t that, was it? the kinder voice in your mind questioned, growing stronger when you felt Steve step closer, your enhanced senses picking up on the warmth of his hand nearing your shoulder, even if not touching. They weren’t worried because they thought you were useless; they were worried and considerate, because that was what friends did for each other.

“I’m pretty sure that about thirty hours after is still rather soon, yes,” Natasha hummed, breaking the silence with light amusement in her voice, eyeing the billionaire who was smiling at Pepper with clueless innocence. “You’re lucky you’re tech-smart at least, Stark, even if Johnson keeps giving you run for your money.”

“Oh gimme a break!” Tony cried out, abandoning his post of a scolded child, turning to Natasha fully. “She basically grew up in the Rising Tide, that’s like… that’s like she’d been to Hogwarts of hacking and became Dumbledore’s protégé, or something, okay-!”

The corner of your lips twitched up, a feeling of unjustified pride swelling in your chest at the mention of whom you certainly considered a friend of yours; and at the rather accurate description, even if wrapped in a literary reference.

You fought the urge to grin fully when you heard Sam tease Tony further.

“Ooooooh, look at the well-read man with such apt metaphors!”

“Please, I’m pretty sure he only watched the movies, like you lots with The Hobbit,” Bucky added, a look of mutual respect for roasting a friend exchanged between the two men, until indignation coloured Sam’s expression when he realized he was being teased as well.

It was the most surreal scene to watch; but it was even more surreal scene to feel.

Feeling of knowing Daisy, knowing someone so capable and knowing you belong among her favourite people somehow, was one thing – but it was a whole another thing to realize that watching the Avengers, literally the mightiest heroes on Earth, poke fun one on another, didn’t make you feel out of place. In fact, it made you feel quite welcomed. As if you… as if you could almost, almost belong one day, if not as one of them, then at least alongside them without sticking out.

And it was that dizzying feeling, that traitorous feeling, that made you speak up too.

“Hmm… I don’t know, Tony. I’m pretty sure it was more like the Hogwarts sent her an encrypted message begging her to join so Dumbledore could learn a few new tricks,” you corrected him with a gentle humour; or at least you believed so.

Until you found the whole room suddenly staring at you, Tony even mutely pointing his index finger at you, unable to retort.

The image he made for should be preciously hilarious; you had a feeling that now you truly should be proud, because you had managed to render him speechless. He had to be utterly shocked to be at loss for words. But he wasn’t the only one – and that was the thing that stunned the warm feeling blossoming in your chest, the air in your lungs freezing, a cold coil of anxiety settling in your ribcage instead.

Alongside them. Not one of them. In fact, not even close to the latter, forever stuck in the former.

It wasn’t your place to join the teasing; that was a gross overstep.

You had said too much. You had overstepped by miles. Tony’s face was pure shock. Bucky’s and Sam’s and Wanda’s, when you checked subtly, were unreadable. You had missed by thousand miles. Steve behind you remained quiet and you didn’t dare to turn to him. Pepper appeared somewhat scandalized, even as she was still looking as perfectly put-together as ever, not a hair out of place in her elegant overall and a loose ponytail. You messed up. You had to apologize-

A levelled voice, warm with amusement, interrupted the noise of your mind and the quiet that had settled in the room alike.

“Not wrong, from what I read up on her,” Natasha said.

Tony, still pointing an index on you still, opened his mouth. “How dare you, Casper. I’m always in your corner and that’s what I get? Jail, I say!”

Your shoulders sagged in relief, lungs expanding again with a generous inhale; you felt yourself grin and letyourself do so, lifting your hands in surrender. That was very true, he had been in your corner – and you were grateful for it. Yes, Tony did whatever Tony wanted and you had no doubt he had pushed you and manipulated you into that charity gala, but much like in the case of Steve, you realized now, as reluctantly as it was, that his behaviour was coming from a good place. From a place of a wanting to be helpful and useful and good and supportive… an ally. A reluctant friend, perhaps.

He deserved the same from you. Your grin widened, heart stumbling even as your voice carried confidence.

“Hey, just saying what I know... Don’t shoot the messenger.”

A distinct sound of someone choking on their drink had you snap your head to the couch, taking note of Bucky doubling over as he coughed; several snickers sounded around, causing satisfaction fill your gut – and warmth your cheeks.

“Hey, hey, hold on, how come she gets to joke about it?!” Tony complained loudly, taking steps closer to you as he gestured in – hopefully mocked – accusation.

“I think that for starters, she’s the one who got shot-“

“So did he!” Tony cut Sam off, pointing at Steve this time. “What if he’s uncomfortable with it?”

You finally dared to look up at Steve, who was still by your side, now silent for a while – and whose stare you felt for just as long. There was a mischievous grin on his face and if you looked further, a speckle of what looked like a little bit like pride.

They are your friends too, you know.

He glanced up at Tony, shrugging with his healthy shoulder without care for the world.

“I mean… I don’t mind at all-”

“Ooooof course you don’t,” Tony stated, grimacing and looking at Steve somehow both with indignation and uncomfortably knowing look. “When it comes to her, you’re already whi-“

Pepper shot Tony another warning glare and he hesitated as he glanced at you in the least subtle way, causing heat rise to your cheeks, a small swell of panic swirling in your chest at his implication – panic and bottomless source of warmth.

“-spering behind my back, like the whole team,” Tony finished, clearly entirely differently than he had intended. “You know what? Just for that, Rogers, I’m gonna crush you in Monopoly.”

A collective groan sounded around the table, various protests against the game rising, incomprehensible words with a very comprehensible message.

You used the momentary chaos to move, glad to have a second of reprieve at attention was no longer on you.

You had been childishly naïve. Sam’s eyes instantly turned to you as he stood up and offered to take care of your drinks.

“Oh- uhm, thank you. Can I… can I have a cup of tea?”

“Coming right-“

“Tea?!” The exasperated cry genuinely made your heart skip a startled beat, upper body whipping the direction of its origin. “Did she just ask for TEA? It’s a party, Casper, for the love of god. Live a little.”

You could hear Steve, who magically appeared by your side just as Sam had disappeared to the kitchen area, breathe in to protest – but there was no need. This, you got.

“I’m on pain meds, Tony. Not to mention I literally can’t get drunk now. I mean… probably.”

At that, Tony’s eyes snapped to Steve, bright and mischievous. “We can get you drunk now, even without Thor’s help. Wilson, get some tequila in here while you’re at it!”

“You… do know he’s on pain meds too, right?” Bucky deadpanned, voicing the very protest you would have – as amusing as seeing drunk Steve might turn out. It would be quite an experience to see him without a filter, wouldn’t it?

“So? He’ll live!” Tony called out, waving the concern off with a theatrical swipe off his hand. “And I’m sure his liver will recover once they switch again.”

You froze.

Just a joke. A simple sidenote – and yet, you found yourself going rigid, anticipating pain, the kind that had no relief no matter the amount of medication; as if it was going to return any second. And then, cold creeping up your spine, dreadful anticipation of justified judging gazes turning to you; because you were the cause of Steve’s momentary lacking healing factor, the cause of his condition – a condition they didn’t even know the worst part of, from what you understood.

You were the reason; you were the thief. You were the sole reason why Steve wasn’t healed yet, even if that was his very own choice, one you hated him for as much as… appreciated him.

And then you noticed.

No one was looking at you.

There were no glares filled with contempt. If anything, the company seemed both amused and slightly annoyed at Tony’s half-serious suggestion.

Breathing in and out, you forced yourself to relax, consciously lifting the corners of your lips when Bucky seemed highly unimpressed, his voice dripping sarcasm.

“Will it now, Doctor Stark? I mean… we didn’t try any antiserum yet. Switching powers, or bullets weren’t enough. So let’s try if a cocktail of alcohol, salt, citrus and fentanyl does the job, shall we? Come on, Stark. It’s like you don’t know him, he does enough reckless shit on his own… please don’t encourage him.”

Several things happened at once.

Natasha hummed in agreement, her face speaking volumes about how truthful she found the statement.

Next to you, Steve made a small offended noise.

Tony rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “buzzkill.”

You barely stifled a snort of laughter, managing to mask it as a cough; yet, Bucky’s gaze flickered to you, something pleased flashing in his eye.

“Honestly, I think I could beat you even in that state, but Bucky’s right. Let’s leave that to another time,” Steve offered in a conciliatory manner, causing Tony to arch his left eyebrow.

“Is that a challenge--?”

“Maybe-”

Bucky flung his hand towards Steve with what could only be read as mute despair, leaving no hopes for your snort to stay silent this time; but also earning much of your sympathies, as you immediately marked him as your ally. He got it. He agreed with you on Steve being a hypocrite when calling you out. He was, as you had assumed before, the one keeping Steve in check – or to least was trying to do so. Good.

At the sound you failed to stifle this time, Bucky’s gaze found yours again, even if briefly. What you found was warm understanding.

“Aaaalright,” Natasha interrupted the playful – but not quite so – exchange between Steve and Tony, a gentle gesture of stepping between the two. “Down, boys. Let’s get back on track, some of us had an early morning, some of us are on painkillers indeed. What are we playing? Not Monopoly, so…”

At that, you proceeded to tune the noise out, unable to help them decide anyway. When you glanced Steve’s direction again, he charmed an easy smile for you, gently brushing your arm with his fingertips before he sat down, sending both shivers and pleasant tingles through your body, your heart making a funny little flip in your chest at the tender subtle touch.

When you smiled back, genuinely unable to help it, his smile turned blinding and he leaned in, whispering only for your ears – and probably Bucky’s.

“Thank you for joining me in the madness. I’m sure you already see why I needed some strong and reliable back-up.”

It was an easy compliment, a barely-there acknowledgement wrapped in a joke; and yet, you felt yourself smile wider, meeting Steve’s gentle blues, something deep within your stirring.

“I’ve got your six, Captain,” you reminded him. “And thank you for inviting me.”

“My absolute pleasure… but if we end up in different teams, just don’t win with too many points over me, will you?”

You smirked, even as you had a lot less faith in your board game skills than he apparently did; it gave you a confidence boost you weren’t aware you needed. It seemed so effortless to let the playful competitive atmosphere of the night affect you, when Steve’s literal and figurative warmth radiated off of him, caressing your skin even as he was no longer touching you. 

“Well… no promises.”

“Hmpf… a wolf in sheep’s clothing...” he muttered, suddenly turning to Tony with a stern look on his face as the billionaire held one of the board games. “No, we will not play Twister, that had better be a joke, you have two people who got shot and one with a sprained wrist-”

You hadn’t noticed, but since the only conclusion of the other injured person was Natasha, you were not surprised she was able to hide it, especially with her sweatshirt sleeves having a thumb hole, easily disguising a splint. And perhaps you had been a little distracted; by your pain medication, of course. There was nothing else to draw your enhanced senses to itself with the force of gravity. Nothing at all.

Even as your heart raced at the turn your thoughts seemed to be running to, you accepted your tea from Sam’s hands with a silent thank you, missing the wordless exchange of meaningful look between Natasha and Bucky, who in turn had not missed how close Steve had leaned in to whisper in your ear even though you were momentarily an owner of enhanced hearing indeed.

But even without seeing that, it felt like what you were doing – something as trivial as being present at a little party in with your colleagues – was moving forward.

And no matter where you’d end up, it felt like it would be a good place; and you’d have a good person by your side, always, be it Steve, or one of his – and one day perhaps yours as well – friends. You’d count your blessings, even as Wanda pulled out the box with the chosen game at last, the number of rules she started to list already making your head spin.  

Being surrounded by so many voices had rarely ever felt better; and rarely quieted the ones in your mind. It had rarely felt safe. And as a sweet cherry on top, Steve’s fingers brushed your elbow, his reassuring smile feeling soft even as you didn’t turn your head to see it.

Yes, it was slow; but you were moving forward. And it felt really, really good.

Next chapter

Series masterlist // S.R. masterlist

Dear reader, apologies for the long wait on a long chapter. Life got busy, specifically work did, draining all my (creative) energy. And frankly, a part of this chapter fought me tooth and nail – I can only hope you, too, will think I won the battle eventually. But oh, did you think only pure fluff was coming? Well. Sorry to disappoint 🤭 ehm. Anyway.

As always, many thank you for your support – and a gentle reminder I’m always happy to hear your thoughts if you’re willing to share them.

Also, I feel like there might be one more chapter before something I can actually call an epilogue, so stay tuned.

May June be kind to you and your loved ones 💕

[steviebbboi]

Steve Rogers Masterlist

🌶️ = smut; 🥹 = fluff; 🩹 = angst

Red 🌶️🩹(Captain America/Steve Rogers x Original Female Character)

Summary: Ongoing series, 4/10; Eleana Harlow (Ellie) is an Enhanced Individual turned Avenger. She's also Steve's everything. She just doesn't really know it yet.

Ordinary is Ordinary 🥹 (Captain America/Steve Rogers x F!Reader)

Summary: Mini-Series (2/2); You viewed life as it was: ordinary. To you, life was an endless cycle of simply trying to make ends meet. People work, sleep and wake up to do it all over again. A chance encounter with a certain captain challenges your philosophy of what is considered to be ordinary.

It's That Steve - Espresso 🌶️🥹 (Captain America/Steve Rogers x F!Reader)

Summary: On your getaway from the city, Steve asks you to define 'myespresso.'

Once Upon A Friendship 🩹🥹 (Childhood Bestie!Steve Rogers x F!Reader)

Summary: Growing up together, you and Steve were inseparable. Where did it all go wrong?

Drabbles:

OUAF: Bittersweet Symphony: Steve and Reader see each other after the 'incident' 🩹 Headcanon sneak peak into future drabbles

Coming up:

Lessons in Power 🌶️ (Tutor!SoftDom!Steve x F!Reader)

Summary: Nerdy, tutor Steve Rogers isn't all that innocent.

Random Drabbles (not connected/chronological):

Steve wakes you up after having a hot dream 🌶️ Don't look back // five-lines of an imaginary title fic 🩹 Like you know I do // five-lines of an imaginary title fic 🥹

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Late Bloomer" (pt 1 of 2)

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x female reader

Tags: human trafficking, dark!Lloyd, significant undefined age gap, older man/younger reader, daddy/girl, dub con with significant non con elements, first time, innocence kink, loss of virginity, exploitation, dacryphilia, size kink, dumbification, misogyny, squirting, forced orgasm, p in v sex, light degradation, pet names, oral sex: m! and f! receiving, sexual awakening, age play vibes, little!reader, but not really: she's just drugged and really really dumb.

Word Count: 5754

Summary: She’s the purest thing he’s ever touched, this soft, tearful, quivering creature in his hands. He’s never felt such lust and violence at the same time. He desperately needs to ruin her. And yet somehow, also desperately, he needs to make sure she doesn’t get hurt.

A.N.: The age gap is left undefined. The OF is not the girl from the movie, which I haven't seen. I don't write characters as explicitly younger than 18 on Tumblr, after having a foul staff member equate any and all teenage pairings with CSAM.

That said, this fic is dark. It was started as a way to check off some of my hardest Bingo squares without actually going there, with the themes that were outside my wheelhouse or too ick for me to write. My MCU Kink Bingo card in particular, has a few of these whammies.

He imagines her as a rose: fragrant and velvet-soft. Imagines crushing her in his hand, plucking her petals off one by one, until there's nothing left.

Lloyd's always loved ruining pretty things.

The job doesn't go quite as planned, but Lloyd can be a go-with-the-flow, adapt-to-the-demands-of-the-moment type guy when he needs to be, he gets creative, and in the end it all works out alright.

The not-insubstantial bounty for the Russian perverts is regrettably forfeited when he loses his temper and gives them the brutal executions that they deserve. But that money can be made back if he finds a buyer for the yacht, he's managed to eliminate a few deplorables, and he's gained himself an unexpected prize, to boot.

Not a bad day for doing crime.

They shove the bodies overboard and retire for the night, headed for their rendezvous with the Powerbroker in Madripoor. Lloyd's men handle the cargo, already under strict orders not to touch the younger ones, whom Lloyd figures he'll arrange to have dumped off at an embassy once they dock in Jakarta.

Maybe he'll call up The Nomad Formally Known as Captain America and tip him off. Asshole has been on his tail annoyingly much, these past few months. Lloyd should send the righteous old fossil a reminder that there are way bigger scumbags plaguing the planet than his little band of hired guns.

The older girls seem relieved to have been liberated and they don't put up much of a fuss when they're divvied up amongst Lloyd's crew for the evening. Lloyd's personal pick, the poor thing whom he'd had to physically wrestle away from Yuri with a flare gun pressed right to her head, has been locked down in a stateroom to try and calm her down.

Despite what some people say, Lloyd's not an inconsiderate monster, so he does freshen up first, showering all the blowback off his face and changing into something comfortable before heading below deck. He keys in the code for the room, which is large and lavish and looks exactly like something a Russian billionaire would design. All money, no taste.

The girl's on the bed. She's still crying, but it's a pretty type of crying, rather than hysterical or snotty; tears that enhance rather than detract; the type of thing a man can really appreciate, if so inclined.

Lloyd steps into the room, takes a deep breath and reminds himself to take his time with this. No sense rushing it and wasting a good thing. He's going to savor every moment.

She squeaks when she sees him there. "Oh!"

"Shh, sh sh," he soothes. "There there now. Why're you crying, Buttercup? There's nothing to cry about. Not anymore."

He shuts the door behind himself with a gentle sound, but even though he's cooing a slew of placating nonsense at her, she still cries out in a desperate little, "No!"

"Hey, it's okay."

"Nnngh ... s-stay back!"

Lloyd's cleaned himself up since their encounter above deck, but the poor thing did just watch him collapse Yuri's face in with a pipe, so he shouldn't be surprised that she's scared. "I'm not here to hurt you," he says, then pauses when he sees that it's the gun in his hand that she's staring fearfully at.

Oh. Right. That makes sense. He'd had the muzzle of the thing pressed against her temple not too long ago, after all. Maybe he should've left that out of sight. 

It's not like he'll need it to subdue her. Moving slowly and pointedly, he sets it down and holds up his empty hands. "There. It's not even a real gun, see? It was all for show, just a flare gun. It can't hurt you."

(Eh. True, it had been for show, but not so true that it couldn't have rearranged her face if he'd wanted it to. Whatever. Details.)

"It was just a little bit of drama, you understand? To make things go the way I needed them to up there. Men like that only respond to one thing." She blinks at him and he offers her a gentle smile. "L. Hansen. Freelance contractor, or rescuer, in your case. You're welcome."

"And ... those guys?"

He tuts. "Fish food, now. They've been taken care of." He takes a step closer, keeping an eye on her in case she's thinking of bolting. She still isn't here by choice, after all. As far as she knows, Lloyd is just the least bad of all the bad guys.

(Which isn't un-true).

He joins her on the bed, where she's still curled on her side, the odd sniffle and overwhelmed hiccup escaping her here and there. "Hey, hey, hey now." He crawls up beside her and forces her onto her back, which isn't hard to do with the fragile state she's already got herself worked up into. He shushes her fearful whimpers and tucks her hair behind her ear with a tender look. "You're real pretty when you cry, Angel, but I promise there's no need. Not anymore. That's all over, okay? I've got you now. You're safe."

The sweet thing sniffles and blinks up at him through clumped lashes. "I am?" she asks, the instinctive trust in her voice making Lloyd's cock thicken in his pants as he realizes that she's got about two brain cells to rub together. "Y-you promise?"

Oh, this is gonna be so fun.

He smiles down at her. "Yeah, Cupcake. I promise. You're completely safe with me." He taps her dainty little ski slope nose with a finger. "I bought you, remember? So that none of those nasty men can ever touch you again, only me. That's the rules."

For a second, the girl's chin wobbles, her eyes welling with uncertainty and the threat of more tears. But Lloyd's had enough of her being upset, doesn't have the patience to spend half the night calming her down when he's already exerted himself so much for her benefit already. Five guys are dead, his bank account is a couple hundred grand lighter (at least temporarily), he's lost the bounty he came for in the first place, and there are going to be a fascinating array of bruises on his body by morning. All this trouble, all this work for her. He's tired now, his day is over, he wants his payoff.

"Hey," he says firmly, holding her chin between two fingers. "I said: calm down. You're safe with me. Nobody's gonna hurt you anymore. You're just going to have nice things and feel good from now on. I'll take care of you."

She sniffles. "You will?"

Wow. She really is as dumb as advertised. Lloyd hums. "Sure will, Cupcake. Only nice things. Just so long as you be my good girl and do what I want. And that'll be easy as pie, because I'll always tell you what I want."

She bites her lip and lets it slip back out slowly between the grasp of her teeth. And the best part about it is that she's not even trying to be coy: she's literally just this clueless. "But," she hedges. "... what do you want?"

He smiles down at her and palms the side of her face. "Just you, Buttercup," he purrs, arousal and anticipation making his pants tight as he takes in just how beautiful she really is, with her porcelain-smooth skin and soft jaw, her baby-fat cheeks and wide, watery eyes. She really is like a doll come to life. 

Lloyd can't wait to wreck her. 

"What's your name, Princess?" he asks, coaxing her with a kind expression that she gravitates towards. "Hm? You can tell me. I'm Lloyd."

She giggles and looks away. "That's a funny name."

"Is it?" He laughs along with her and nods. "Yeah I suppose it is. I didn't pick it, unfortunately. But I'm going to pick your name. Something real beautiful and delicate, just like you. I'm thinking some kind of flower. How bout that?"

An adorable little frown pinches in the space between her eyebrows. "What? But, my name is - "

"I know, I know," he cuts her off, already knowing what she's going to say. He sticks his bottom lip out at her in a playful pout. "But that's such a little girl's name, don't you think? We should pick something new, since you're starting over new with me. Something more ... fitting."

He lets his eyes drag up and down her faintly curved form, the body that somebody above deck decided would be best appreciated in a tiny cotton top and pair of pink panties. If it wasn't so cute, it'd piss him off: those creeps dressing her in little girl undies in their effort to hock her along with the rest of the wares. But anyone with eyes can see she's not like the other merchandise.

Lloyd trails one finger over her hip and into the valley of her waist, appreciating the particular season of life she's in. She's limber and nubile, body almost grown into itself. A still-green sapling that's not quite done taking shape, with branches that are still soft enough to be trained this way or that as she approaches womanhood. She's malleable, moldable. Ripe for the picking.

The night above deck may have ended up in violence, but Lloyd came on-board peaceably, under the guise of a buyer, and it hadn't slipped his notice that her age was pointedly left off the dossier. It means she's quite a bit older than she looks, and the sellers hadn't wanted to lead with that.

Despite the pleasure Lloyd got out of ripping those perverts' nuts off, he still knows the business, understands the concept of maximizing one's buyer pool. Sex traffickers gonna sex traffic, and all that. But even still, there's a reason he didn't mind forfeiting that bounty. He's no hero, but he's done his bit to help. Now he fully intends to reap the benefits that've fallen into his lap as a direct result of a bunch of Russian perverts also happening to be lying salesmen.

"I'm keeping you for myself," he tells her, with another affectionate tap on the nose. "You're a very special, beautiful girl."

Her eyes widen at what she clearly perceives as a compliment, and she leans closer in a way that's so honestly naive, it makes Lloyd wonder if the dealers "enhanced" her with anything, pre-sale. He won't complain if they did, he doesn't mind a braindead bimbo, but it'd be nice to know if this is all chemically assisted, or just a natural gift. The thought nearly makes him snicker when he has it: Maybe she's born with it, maybe it's Maybelline lobotomy.

"You're special," he tells her again, trailing his fingers over her bare shoulder. "A real natural beauty."

She shakes her head bashfully. "No, m' not. I'm ... plain."

He scoffs, though privately he's thrilled (girls with low self esteem always give the best head.) "Honey, you wouldn't be in this room with me if you were 'plain'," he deadpans, not missing how she shifts and glances down at her body self-consciously. "Trust me, Sweetcheeks: men don't spend the kind of money that I just did, if what they're buying isn't astoundingly precious."

She squirms and her lashes lower onto heat-stained cheeks. "I dunno," she mumbles, embarrassed as she obviously recites someone else's words: "M' a late bloomer."

Lloyd laughs. "Well hey, that's okay. Nothing to be embarrassed about, you know. I'm glad."

"You ... are?" She peeks up at him and Lloyd smiles.

"Yeah, Baby. I am. Don't you know the best part about having a flower is getting to watch it bloom?" He thumbs at the little Botticelli cleft she's got in her chin and savors the shudder that travels through her body at that, enjoying the reaction, how hopelessly vulnerable she is. "You know," he muses, turning into her more and pressing her into the blankets. "I think that's going to be your name: Blossom. Would you like that?"

"oh—"

He cuts off that small, surprised sound by kissing her—slowly. He doesn't do much with it at first, because he wants to soak up her inexperienced reactions; wants to feel her hot little gasp of surprise and the softness of her lips pressed to his, her body stiffening and then liquifying underneath the foreign touch of a man. She doesn't know how to handle it, squeaking against his mouth and pushing up against him as his body presses her down.

"It's okay," he whispers. "You're just perfect, Little one. A perfect, tender blossom." His hand migrates to her waist and digs into all of that give, violence and lust bubbling to the forefront of his mind at how fucking delicate she is. He imagines her as a rose: fragrant and velvet-soft. Imagines crushing her in his hand, plucking her petals off one by one, until there's nothing left.

He's always liked ruining pretty things.

"Please," she whispers, trembling. Fuck.

He licks at the seam of her lips and lets his hand drag over her belly while he whispers: "I can't wait to see you bloom, Little flower." Dips inside with the tip of his tongue: "Watch you open up for me." Cups her over the front of her panties: "Watch you unfurl."

"Oh." She sighs, hips juddering reactively up against his palm and then squeaking at the jolt of pleasure it sends through her. Lloyd gives her more pressure and smiles right in her face as she gasps.

"That feels nice, doesn't it?"

"Yy-yeah, but—oh! n-no ... wait, wait, I can't." Her hips kick up again and she whines at her own body's reactions. "Nnn, wait ..." Her hands grab at Lloyd's wrist where he's cupping her, but when he doesn't stop rocking his palm she grapples up at his shoulders instead, giving adorable little pushes that do absolutely nothing other than spur him on.

"C'mon Angel, none of that," he chides, slotting his leg forward in place of his hand so that he can reach up and coax her hands away from fighting him. He envelops her wrists and gently presses them into the blankets at either side of her head. And Jesus fuck, her wrists are tiny. He could hold both of them in one of his, easily. "Relax, Baby. I'm not gonna hurt you. Just want to make you feel good."

She whimpers when his clothed thigh grinds up against her core, her eyes getting watery again. "Ooh ..."

"Yeah. It's okay," he soothes, giving her another kiss, this time a little deeper, guiding her a little more while she writhes against the pressure of his thigh. "There you go," he praises, pretending that he doesn't know that her writhing is still part struggle. "See? Doesn't that feel nice?"

"P-please," she says, "I-I can't."

"Sure you can." He releases one of her wrists and laces their fingers together. "Just relax. I've got you."

"But, I've never," she cries. "Please, I don't ... I've never ... "

"Oh, Sweetheart." Though he'd figured she was a virgin, hearing her whimper it up at him so sweetly has his cock throbbing against the seam of his joggers. He nuzzles her cheek and coos, "You trying to tell me you've never been with a man, is that it?" She keens in embarrassment and he shushes her. "Hey, that's okay. That's perfectly okay."

She sniffles and squirms against him. "Nnn. But I'm not ... I-I don't know how. And you're a ... a ..."

He chuckles. "I'm a what?"

"... a man," she whispers, face flaming.

"Yeah, I am. But that's good, Honey. Dont'cha think? Every girl needs a man to teach her things, at some point. And it's that time for you."

She mewls helplessly in her throat and shakes her head, not noticing that her crotch is still grinding up on him as she does. "But what if I ... what if I can't ..."

"Don't worry," he tuts. He thumbs fondly at the damp corner of an eye until she peeks up at him. "I told you, Petal: I want to see you bloom." She colors beautifully at that and ducks her chin, and Lloyd dips down to kiss her again, not letting up until he feels her body soften to it a little bit more. She seems to realize what her hips are doing and freezes, but he just grabs her and guides her back into the rhythm, groaning when she starts up again. "There you go. Good girl."

"Lloyd ..."

"Don't be afraid. We'll take it slow, okay? I'll guide you, show you everything you need to know."

She sniffles and shivers, still teary-eyed, but she isn't pushing against him anymore. "Will it hurt?" she whispers.

Lloyd's cock gives a mighty throb and his eyes darken. "No, Blossom," he promises. "It won't hurt. Cause I'm gonna open you up real gentle and slow, show you how it can feel so, so good, okay?" He nudges her nose with his when she doesn't answer. "Tell me you understand, Little flower."

"Mmm." She's so shy, so reluctant and sweet. It makes Lloyd's cock ache worse than anything. "... Okay," she eventually whispers.

He hums knowingly and gives her one last peck on the lips before pulling back to undress. He goes slow enough not to spook her, but fast enough that he isn't drawing it out needlessly and scaring her any worse. He's prepared to hold her down if she starts struggling again, but that's not how he wants this to go. He really does want to watch her unfurl.

Her eyes widen and she stares at him with parted lips as he strips out of his clothes and his body is revealed. She seems stuck in place; a deer in headlights, fascinated and terrified—even more so, once he gets his cock out.

He angles it downward and gives himself a slow, tight tug, watching her watch him, soaking up the look of a girl who's having her first real sexual experience. She bites her lip and stares at his hand on his cock, eyes flitting between the weeping tip and his fist, his heavy sac and powerful thighs and back up again. Her brow is pinched and she keeps dragging her lip through her teeth, and Lloyd's balls ache at how tender it is to get to see her appreciating a man's body for the first time; losing this one, innocent part of herself. The very first petal to fall.

Still, he feigns ignorance with a coaxing, "You ever been naked with a man like this, Baby?" He knows that she hasn't, knows what a frightened and turned on virgin looks like. The poor thing is trembling in her skin, completely lost for what to do. Her mouth works like she'll answer verbally, but when she can't seem to make that happen, she just shakes her head a little instead.

"Mmn. Mm mn."

He nods in understanding. "Okay, Blossom. That's just fine." He lies over her again, abandoning his cock and touching the bottom hem of her little top. Fittingly, there are tiny, pale pink rosebuds printed on it. "Can I take this off?" he asks, tracing up to her ribcage and back down from over the cotton. "Hm?" He holds her gaze as he starts gently edging up the fabric. Her belly quakes and she whines nervously, but she lifts her arms for him when it's time, and he praises her with another quiet 'good girl'.

She's wearing a little bralette under the top, with lace edges and a delicate material that provides absolutely no structure. It doesn't even quite conceal the soft shade of her nipples peeking through. Lloyd groans lowly and skims his hands over them. "Fuck, Petal." She inhales noticeably at that, and he shoots her a grin. "Aw, you like that one, huh?" he teases. "My little flower Petal." he ghosts his fingers over her breasts, back and forth, until her nipples are fully pebbled and poking against the thin fabric. "So pretty," he murmurs.

She squirms, flustered, arms pressing in against her sides like she's fighting the urge to cover herself. "They're not ..." she starts, biting her lip and not finishing what she was going to say as her face flames.

"What?" Lloyd coaxes.

"Just ... they're not ... very big."

He doesn't bother to school the displeasure from his face, his eyes darkening as he growls in disapproval. It works in that her eyes pop up to him, wide and questioning. He shakes his head and lets his weight come down more, holding her down with his body and palming greedily at her little breasts. "No," he agrees roughly, rubbing and groping her. "They're not very big, are they?" He leers and pushes the little excuse for a bra up over them. "Sweet little mountain peaks," he teases. She squeaks and tries to cover herself, but Lloyd isn't having it. He knocks her hands away with a warning look. "Don't do that. I want to see you. All of you." He helps her slip the bralette over her head, tossing it aside and returning to take both of those chubby little swells in his palms, cupping and pressing them together as much as they'll go. "Jesus," he curses softly.

They're small and underdeveloped, more mound than slope, jutting out from her chest in youthful defiance. They're so innocent, so cheeky and plump. The sight of them makes that base, destructive desire surface in him again; the urge he sometimes gets to devour and claim and take, to ruin something that's so pretty and good. Lloyd wonders if that's what makes him a sociopath. "Such pretty tits," he praises, then lowers his face to seal his mouth over one, puffy nipple.

She squeaks, frightened at first, but she must be sensitive there because all it takes is one or two firm sucks and she's loosing the most gorgeous, helpless moans. Her hips kick up and Lloyd hums around his mouthful. He gives her more pressure through his thigh, pleased when she grinds up with real purpose.

"Yeah," he encourages. He pulls away and glances up from the level of her chest to find her staring at him with that same, pinched expression, but sloe-eyed instead of wide-eyed, now. Cupping the swollen tip of her breast and swiping out with his tongue, he watches as it makes her face absolutely crumple in desire.

"Ohn, god."

"See?" he says, nodding at the next uncoordinated roll of her hips. "It's all gonna be okay. Just gotta let me show you."

As turned on as she is, she still sniffles, her eyes flitting over him, afraid of what she doesn't know, unable to conceal her nervous interest. He can see her trying to look down and catch sight of his cock again, and he rumbles in approval and lets it drag against her hip. "You want to touch it?" he teases, then chuckles when she clamps her eyes shut and shakes her head with a stubborn little, uh uh. "Aw, that's okay, Sweetheart. You're shy. That's to be expected."

"M'not."

He laughs at her and gives her breast one last, affectionate kiss. "Don't lie, Buttercup. It's fine. Lots of girls are like that, you know. Nervous about touching, unsure, need to feel good before they can really let go enough and explore the way they want to. So how about ... I help you relax first?"

"Mmn." She whines and refuses to look at him. "... How?"

He sinks down her body, hands dragging over her waist and hips, holding her down with a chiding little tut when she squirms a little too much. "Shh. There's a girl." He forces her legs open and shoulders his way in there, and that's what seems to get her to still. He kisses her belly with a pleased hum, right at the top edge of the panties, where there's a tiny silk bow and green peapod detail. Lloyd groans at the sight of it and gives it a little kiss. "Have you ever had an orgasm, Sweetpea?"

"What?!" She huffs in embarrassment and tosses her head. "Noo. I, I don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” he teases.

“That."

"No?" He smirks and looks down to where there's a telling wet patch on the gusset of her panties. "Hm. You mean you don't touch yourself?" As inexperienced as she is, he still finds it hard to believe that a girl could get to her age without exploring. He places a coaxing line of kisses down the inner crease of her thigh. "Not even a little bit? Maybe sometimes at night?” 

“I … I don’t …”

“Don’t what?" He blows gently against her. "Don’t ever wake up from a dream with that tight and achy feeling deep inside your tummy?”

“Ohh.”

“Don’t let your hands start to creep down here? Don’t rub a little to try and make it feel better?"

She whines again and squirms, though it's not a fight to get away so much as it is pure nerves and embarrassment. She even seems a little mad at him for teasing her so much. It makes him chuckle and push her thighs wider so he can really get his face down there. "Oh, no. Don't pretend you haven't touched this little flower. You've closed your eyes and let your hands wander." He takes one of her hands in his and brings it down, ignoring her grunt of protest and guiding her to cup herself. Instantly, her fingers go to her clit, and Lloyd snickers. "Yes, you’ve touched. But you haven’t made yourself cum?" 

“Please,” she begs. “It doesn't work. I just … I can’t.”

“Aw, you can’t?” He pouts along with her in mock sympathy. “Well what've you tried, babygirl? Maybe you're just not doin' it right."

"Nnngh." She bites her lip and stares down at their joined hands with flushed cheeks. "I don't ... I dunno, please."

He releases her hand and pushes it out of the way. "See, that's what you need a man like me for. Too desperate to figure out how to make that itch go away by yourself. Poor, confused little thing." She makes an angry sound in protest, but it's easily subdued by another firm grab and press of her hips down into the blankets. He snickers at her token outrage. "Shh. That's alright, Blossom, that's alright. Just one more first I get to give you. I’m looking forward to it." He gives the waistband of her panties another kiss. "Girls aren't like boys, you know. You don't just wake up one morning, pulling at your pud. It's more complicated than that. You have to learn what feels good, learn how to get yourself worked up." He looks up her body and offers her a tender smile. "That's why it's important to have a teacher, Sweetpea. Someone who knows these things, someone who can guide you."

She sniffles. "You can?"

"Sure I can. Here, let's try a few things, why don't we? See what sorts of touches you like." He wants to rip her panties off yesterday, but forces himself to remember the plan of taking things slow and savoring every moment. He's only going to get to do this once, after all. So he waits for her barely-there nod, and then grasps the top edge of the panties right over that obscene little fucking peapod, and gives a jostle, gently tug-tug-tugging the fabric up against her mound, pulling it just enough to get the seam angled over her clit. 

She gasps at the sensation, a surprised little "oh!" escaping her lips.

Lloyd hums. “S'that feel good, Sweetheart?"

"Nnnh."

"Hmm. Yeah. You like a little gentle pressure like that? Are you a glancing touch kind of gal?" A few more exploratory, barely-there tugs and he can tell that she is, even though she clearly has no concept of what that means. He drops the panties and lets his fingers trail along the crease of her thigh, relishing every twitch and shiver he gets from her.

Somebody has waxed her bare beneath the fabric, and Lloyd sneers in distaste and purposefully doesn’t let himself think about why that is. "Oh, yes," he says when he sees that the wet spot on her panties has grown. "You like to be teased." She keens in protest, though she's thankfully past the point of outright denying the obvious. Lloyd rewards her with a press of his face against her crotch, inhaling and letting his nose dig into her clit from over the fabric. “Mmhm. Slickin’ right through your panties.”

"Oh!" Her hands suddenly appear in his hair, scrabbling, clutching. “Oh, oh no …”

He laughs a hot breath right against her cunt. "That's okay, Princess. That's good. I like that you’re sensitive.” He gives her one last kiss from over the underwear and then curls his fingers into the waistband. “Wanna take these off?"

"Nnoo," she moans, while doing absolutely nothing to stop him as he pulls them off her.

He eases them down her legs, gently shushing and praising her for her obedience when she lets him settle his shoulders back in between her legs after tossing the panties aside.

"Such a good girl," he murmurs, hooking one hand under her thigh to push and make room, the other sliding over her soft belly. He tugs her closer to his face, inhaling her scent and groaning at finally getting to see her.

One good thing about a bare pussy: there’s no hiding the state of it.

"Blossom," he breathes. "Look at you. You're soaked." 

She is. The delicate petals of her sex are already spread and slicked, puffy and swollen with arousal. He groans and lets his tongue dart out for a quick taste, reveling in the sweet tang of her, the way that she gasps and her belly tenses underneath his hand. She’s trembling, squirming, trying so hard not to hump up against his face, not to make noise even though it’s obviously what she wants to do. “It’s okay,” he tells her, dipping down for another long lick through her folds, nudging her clit with his nose, his mustache.

“Ohn!” she cries, but the sound cuts off into a desperate yelp at the end as she tries to silence herself. "Nnnh!" 

He makes an admonishing grunt where he’s got his face buried against her. “Hey,” he snaps, when he glances up and sees her fingers in her mouth. He knocks her hand away. “Quit it.”

“I’m not! I’m—” 

He hauls her in harshly and sucks her clit into his mouth until it elicits the squeal he was looking for, a tortured little ‘ognfuck!’ that comes from deep in her belly. He pops off with a satisfied growl. “There. Like that. That’s better.” He softens his tone when she whimpers and kisses the hood of her clit. “It’s okay to enjoy it, Petal. I know it feels good. So stop trying to hold it in, okay? You gotta let me hear you.”

“Please,” she whispers, eyes shining down at him. Fuck, the tears are back. “Please, please,”

“Please what, Princess?”

“Nnn! I – I need …”

Aaand her voice is back to warbling and overwhelmed, prompting Lloyd to grind his dick against the mattress just for a little fucking relief. This girl is sweet in every fucking way imaginable, and now she’s trembling and welling up with tears again, just the way he loves to see. Only this time it’s not in fear. She’s finally losing control of herself enough to let go and open up—unfurling for him, just like the flower he knew she was.

“Tell me, Petal,” he murmurs, tickling her with his mustache again. “C’mon. Tell me. Tell me what you need to cum. Do you even know?”

“Please, nngh, please …” 

He nuzzles her clit and laps languorously at her drenched slit, over and over, proactively tightening his hold on her hips so that he doesn’t get his nose broken when she inevitably starts bucking. “Ohn … god!”

“Mmm hmph,” he hums, having ventured out to start giving her jabs with his tongue, forcing the muscle into her quivering little gash, over and over, teaching her what a good tongue fucking really feels like. “Mmm, mmmph.” 

“Oh, please, ohn!” Her hands clamor through his hair, messing it up as she sobs and jerks, trying to get more of his tongue in her cunt. Lloyd can’t help laughing a little bit over it, breathless and turned on by how easy she is. He goes back to suckling on her clit for a moment or two, before easing off and peering up her heaving belly with a smug grin. “So sensitive,” he coos, holding her down when she thrashes in embarrassment. “Stop, stop,” he chides, laughing, climbing back up her body and pinning her beneath his full weight. 

Her legs spread for him without conscious thought, welcoming him in even as she’s still making her angry little huffs and puffs for being teased. He kisses her, amused, forcing his tongue inside to give her a taste of her own arousal. “And that was just my mouth,” he purrs, bringing a hand up to grope at one of those fat little breasts. “Was barely even inside you. Just think about what it’ll feel like with my fingers, my cock. You want that?” 

She cries out when he plucks her nipple. She shakes her head. “Nnn.”

“What? 'Nnn'? S’that s’posed to be a no?”

“Nnnh. Yes.”

He laughs. “Aw, Cupcake. I already told you I’m gonna treat you real nice, make you feel good. Now why you gotta lie to me?” He lets his hand slip down between them, cupping her between her legs. “Does this feel like a no? Hmm?” She whimpers and he smiles and shakes his head. “No, it doesn’t, does it? Mm mn.”

She’s mewling and grinding up against the pressure of his hand despite her stupid little protests, so he hums and slips a finger down through her folds, lets the tip of it tease at her entrance. Fuck, she’s wet. “Never had anything in here?” he asks, already knowing the answer before she gives another pathetic whimper and shakes her head.

“Just … just tampons.”

“Tampons, huh?” He dips the tip of his finger, in and out, gut clenching as he feels it mouthing at him, feels all that slick. “When’s the last time you bled?” he asks. He’ll grab a condom if he needs to, but he’d rather not need to. “Hm? Come on now, don’t lie to me.”

She won’t meet his eyes, but after enough coaxing she admits that she had her period just a day ago. Lloyd nods, glad that he doesn’t have to worry about protection. Not that it isn’t fun to fantasize about knocking such a sweet little thing up, but that’s not the itch he’s scratching right now. It'll be a treat just getting to watch her bloat with his seed, before that creampie slides right back out. “Okay, then, Sweetheart,” he murmurs, finger still teasing softly right at the edge of her entrance. “I want you to look at me, girl. Want you to look right in my eyes, and relax for it.” He brushes his lips across hers. “I promise this isn’t gonna hurt.”

He eases his finger in, and the tiny little ‘oh’ and relieved sigh she gives up as he does it, is everything. Her wide eyes meet his, blinking. “Lloyd.”

“Yeah.”

“I … I …” 

“Relax, Blossom.” Lloyd’s got big fingers, and she’s clamped down tight as fuck from her nerves, but she’s so fucking wet that it doesn’t even matter, his finger slipping in past the knuckle until it’s all the way seated. Her searing heat envelops him and presses onto his palm, bringing that destructive, sexual urge bubbling right back up to the surface of his mind. 

She’s the purest thing he’s ever touched, this soft, tearful, quivering creature in his hands. He’s never felt such lust and violence at the same time. He desperately needs to ruin her … and yet somehow, also desperately, he needs to make sure he doesn’t hurt her. 

A single, overwhelmed tear breaks from her eye and tracks down her temple, disappearing into her hair. Lloyd’s mouth all but waters at the sight of it, but she doesn’t seem to notice it, too preoccupied with the feeling of him inside of her body. She’s teetering right on the precipice between terrified and fascinated as she learns this new touch, and Lloyd could bust a nut just watching it.

“Good girl,” he praises, letting his palm cup her sex as he keeps his finger buried and starts to give her gentle, gentle pulses. “See? Didn’t I tell you?”

To his utter delight, she exhales shakily and nods. “Yeah,” she whispers, biting her lip and looking down her own body to where he’s touching her. “Yeah. I … it's ... you’re …" Her eyes slam shut as his finger curls. "Oh god.”

“You’re okay. Look at me.” He rocks his hand more, giving her pressure through the heel of his hand and dragging over that soft spot inside. "Look at me, Petal."

It takes her a moment, but she manages, peeking up at him with her brow pinched and moaning softly, her hips juddering up into it. 

Lloyd smiles, lines up another finger, and soaks up her expression as he plucks off that next petal.

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