#captainkelli500fam

[kashimos-hajime]

Far From Home | b.b.

summary: Bucky Barnes hates you. You play music too loud in the morning, you’re cold and closed off, you’re selfishly selfless, you confuse the hell out of him—the list could go on and on. He hates you, but when you go missing, he can’t stop himself from spending every waking hour trying to find you. What was that old saying? A fine line between hate and love? Yeah, Bucky walks that line like a man who’s had three beers too many.

WARNINGS: swearing, mentions of addiction, vomit, angst, y’all HATE each other fr pairing: bucky barnes x stark!sister reader word count: 10.9k

a/n: written for @wkemeup​​​ and @captain-kelli​​​ who both achieved follower milestones!! congratulations, you two! :) both prompts are bolded below. enemies to lovers who are still enemies here we go! song inspo is far from home (the raven) by sam tinnesz

“How long?”

“Seventy three hours since last contact. Fuck, Steve. Where is she?”

“I don’t know. Last I saw of her was the party but for all we know she’s just sleeping in.”

“No. My sister is not a party animal. She would’ve called me. She knows to call me.” Beep. “What am I looking at, F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“Last known footage of Ms. Stark. She signed some autographs in Miami before departing for an unknown location.”

The air is frigid as the room goes quiet.

Steve speaks first. “Tony—”

Who’s gonna tell Barnes?”

A beat.

“We can’t tell him. We don’t even know if she’s missing or not.”

Bucky stops at the edge of the entrance, his ears pricked as he presses himself against the wall. Tilting his head to the door, he waits for someone to say something.

“I’m telling you that she is. I know in my heart that there is something wrong and I say that she has been captured, or injured, and that she might be scared and Barnes…” A bitter, cold, laugh that sounds more like a scoff. “He’s not going to stop until he gets her back. I don’t know about you but I don’t want some brainwashed super soldier killing everyone just because he didn’t have the balls to—”

“You can’t say that, Tony. She’s gonna show up.”

“Shut up, Steve. She would’ve found some way to call me. That girl never has her phone on 0%. She doesn’t go off the grid. This is Y/N, not some bimbo who doesn’t know better than to call her brother.”

“She isn’t a kid.”’

“She is to me! She is a kid. She is the little sister I have failed over and over to protect so why don’t you shove that little righteous speech about how she’s a grown woman up your ass.”

“Except you’re not treating her like the adult she is. You know she can take care of herself.”

Bucky can hear Tony’s soft inhale, feel the intensity of the man’s glare directed at Steve. He shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but a twitch of muscle would be enough to alert both men that he’s here. With the amount of tension crackling in the air, a brush against the wall would be equivalent to a thousand cymbals crashing in cacophony.

“Tony, Afghanistan wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have changed what the Ten Rings did, to you or to her. You’re not responsible for that.”

“Someone has to be. Who put her there, huh?”

“Tony—”

“You know what, I’m gonna try the London center, and go by her cabin.”

“Tony, wait—”

A door slams shut. It rattles Bucky’s bones and he swallows down the bruising in his throat as he closes his eyes, tilting his head back until it knocks into the metal walls. Missing. You, missing, and suddenly his chest is heavier than mountains. He feels like he could drown in his own blood, like every rib in his chest is breaking.

“Buck,” Steve calls, and he opens his eyes to a sting of cold air. Something tastes like iron in his mouth as he pushes off the wall and enters the room. Steve is standing there, his fingers pressed against the table as he continues to stare at the door Bucky assumes Tony left through.

“Who said she’s missing?” Bucky asks roughly in a way he hopes sounds unaffected. Steve’s eyes drag towards him, his blue eyes wide like a puppy and Bucky narrows his own gaze. “You know how she gets when she’s pissed.”

“Yeah. I wish she was more like Tony that way,” Steve sighs, his other hand hooked on his belt. “Buck, I don’t know what to say. You know what’s going on with her?”

“Nope.” His expression twitching, Bucky silently curses as Steve’s eyebrows raise, lips parting. He seems to struggle with what he wants to say and Bucky’s eyes fall to his shoes like a scolded child. Searching the tile, he swallows down the knot in his throat.

“Bucky.”

His head jerks up and he meets his best friend’s gaze defiantly. “Steve.”

“What’d you say to her?”

His lungs feel like they’re about to bust. An urgency tugs at his chest, his gut flipping over as he looks away, at the wall, anywhere except Steve’s curious, insistent gaze.

“Steve, I swear to fucking god I didn’t mean it.” His eyes flutter shut at the memory and he lowers his head in shame, leaning against the table by his hand. Everything inside him lurches and he feels like he’s going to throw up as the sound of you echoes in his head. Fury incarnate, hell freezing over at your voice. “She just told me she was stepping back. I just—” His words catch in his throat, and he can’t continue. Anger and guilt fight within him like starving beasts caged for far too long battling over a juicy flank of deer. The meat of his memory bleeds into his bones. “We had a fight before the party. It just piled up.”

“You couldn’t be coolheaded about this?” Steve asks quietly and Bucky looks at him with a terrible devil lurking in his gaze. No one has ever known—especially Tony, especially Steve. No one knows. “She’s the only person I’ve ever seen you lose your temper on, Buck.”

“You’d be surprised by what she brings out in me,” he muses flatly, that terrible thing melting into his voice. A bitter twitch to his mouth, he looks up and thinks of all the places he thinks you would go to, just to spite him. Pulling out his phone, he half-hopes to see some message from you, even if it is a drunk text. You off the rails is better than you going dead silent.

The cabin in the woods. London. Miami.

Something inside of Bucky aches for release—aches to put a hole in the wall just to feel something other than pain, rage, hate, hate, hate.

“You’re her friend,” his blond, Captain America, broad-shouldered, symbol-of-America, friend Steve says, because despite what some people think that Steve and Captain America are two different personas, there will always be parts of Steve in the Avenger, and parts of the Avenger in Steve. They both want to believe in something good. They are, after all, one in the same.

Just as how Bucky and the Winter Soldier are the same man despite everything. HYDRA simply amplified the hate, fertilized the seeds of rage, curated the quiet thunder within his soul, within James Buchanan Barnes so that the Winter Soldier could thrive.

He has spent more than half his life believing the Starks are the enemy, and half of his waking moments, wondering if it’s true. Whenever he looks at Tony, he sees Howard—the title FRIEND crossed out with violent strokes, ENEMY written in blood. Whenever he looked at you, he felt something that walked a fine line.

“We barely tolerated each other.” Bucky brushes it off, pocketing his phone and turning away. He doesn’t want to think about your damned starlight eyes that sparked with rebellion, the rope of hair you always had pulled back in a ponytail, the smear of oil, the smudge of dirt, the raw scratch of your nails. Something so primal, unadulterated ecstasy.

It was the effect of you on his mind, his body.

“That’s not what Tony thought.” Steve’s words crawl after him as he turns to walk out of the room and Bucky pauses at the silence that follows. He knows Steve well enough to know when he wants to keep going. “What is it?”

“What I said?”

“No. Buck,” Steve sighs, his name echoing coldly against metal walls. Bucky turns to see him, nearly glaring daggers, “what is it between you and her?”

Anger. Grief. Hate. Lust.

“Nothing.” Bucky shrugs despite how much it feels like there’s a thousand pound weights on his shoulders. “If she ran away without telling Stark, he’s gonna be insufferable about it, but that’s not on me.”

“So you think there’s nothing to worry about.” Bucky turns to Steve who crosses his arms, leaning against the edge of the table. His eyebrows are still raised—he wants an honest answer.

If Bucky were an honest man, he would’ve told Steve everything since the beginning, but he hasn’t and he isn’t, and Bucky does not want to hide things from Steve, but he will always make and has always made exceptions for you.

“I’ll worry when there’s something to worry about.” Steve doesn’t believe him, and Bucky chews on his cheek, stepping back into the room. There’s something he has to prove to Steve, something that isn’t even real, and Bucky feels a million pairs of eyes bearing into his back. I will not slip, I will not slip, I will not slip. “Look, she can take care of herself. She’ll show up because someone picked a fight with her and lost, and then she’ll be fine.”

“Bucky. Come on.” Steve’s trying to appeal to the kindness in his heart but Bucky doesn’t have room for it with all the unbridled fear that lurks in his chest. It carves out a home in his ribs, sits on every crevice of his sternum, sinks its teeth into his flesh. He’s terrified even though he doesn’t show it: he can’t. He can’t. “You’re not even a little bit worried?”

“Nope.”

“Well, you can’t act like you don’t care when you care more than anyone.”

“I don’t.”

“Then what was London?” The protesters. “São Paulo?” The earthquake. “Vancouver?” Freezing cold water.

“Look, I care if Stark’s gonna run us over trying to find her. I care enough because she’s part of our team. Come off it, Steve. I know she can take care of herself. I’m gonna take a nap. Dr. Cho said no partying post-Singapore and what do you know, we throw the biggest party ever.” Stiff to the bone, he puts on a smile. “See you in a bit, pal.”

Steve sighs, and the sound follows him like a ghost as Bucky leaves the conference room. His flesh fingers curl into a fist and his nails dig in hard enough he draws blood as he walks the halls, the paths engraved into his head. He takes the longest route to his room, tries to scatter his thoughts of the words shackled with fury.

He walks past your room on the way to his and he does not spare it a glance as he walks into his room and turns on the tap. The water runs copper and the sting bites at his palm as he tries not to think. Tries to focus on the numbing cold that runs over his skin.

Don’t worry. I won’t.

It’s all he does now—worry. It consumes his mind as he stares at his own reflection and curses the way his eyes seem to shimmer from cold predator to docile prey. They are always at war within him. It wasn’t until he met you that he realized it was okay to be both.

.

The first time Bucky meets you, he is unkempt, exhausted, and probably smells of old laundry. Black moons are printed underneath his eyes and he doesn’t remember what the light looks like as he stares blankly at the wall, at the curtains drawn over windows. He hasn’t eaten in the past few days and neither has he spoken. He’s tossed and turned on his bed, his mind still hyper fixated, his blood still congealed in his veins. He’s too exhausted to get out of a room he’s been stuck in for the past seventy two hours.

It’s been two months since Steve brought him back here. Two months and he’s still so fucking tired.

“Buck,” said friend begins and Bucky doesn’t make a sound to give any indication he’s heard. He has a pillow shoved between his head and arm, staring at the analog clock that reads 3:29 PM. “I’m coming in, okay?” He closes his eyes, preparing himself for the inevitable stream of light that’s about to blind the shit out of him and he burrows his face into the pillow. The door slides open.

He can hear Steve take in a sharp breath at the state his room’s in. There are clothes strewn everywhere and the meals that’ve been sent up are lined up on the top of his dresser, untouched, and Bucky wishes he were asleep to avoid a confrontation he knows is coming. It always happens when Steve wants him to suck it up and get out in a gentle way, but this time, Bucky can’t scrub off the blood on his hands long enough to enjoy the fact that he’s alive.

Nah. All he can remember is every bullet fired, every news headline, every pair of eyes that have ever looked at him like he’s a monster. Beast. Feral.

“You gotta get up, Buck. Pull yourself outta this slump.”

“I don’t want to.” His voice is foreign, a terrible, growling thing that pushes out of his throat uncomfortably. “I’m tired.”

“Tony’s sister’s back from Somalia, and he went to the airport to pick her up.” Steve continues, walking around the room to clean up. He begins to fold clothes and throw dirty ones into the basket in the corner of his room before walking into the bathroom. Turning on the lights, he starts rooting around for something. “Gotta make a good first impression.”

“Why should I care?” He rolls over away from the light as Steve flushes the toilet and turns on the vent. It smells musty, the air thick with not enough oxygen and too much old. Bucky lifts his head from his pillow, squinting against the pale light of his bathroom.

“Because Tony loves his sister more than life itself and she’s great. You’re gonna like her.”

“If she’s anything like Stark, I doubt it,” he grumbles, letting his face fall back to the pillow for two more seconds before rolling onto the edge of the bed and sitting up. His head spins and black dots impede his vision as he rubs at his eyes blearily. Blood rushes down his body and he lets out a groan when his muscles stretch in his back.

“That’s the spirit, Buck,” Steve says. Bucky gets up on unsteady legs, his feet strangely stiff against the floor. “We’ve got some leftovers from lunch that you can have but first just get a bit cleaned up. Wash your face, brush your teeth. Promise you’ll feel a lot better.” Bucky’s lips twitch into an almost-smile but it fades just as soon as he realizes he has to look at himself in the mirror in the bathroom.

“Yeah.”

Steve nods, heading for the door. “I’ll heat up those leftovers.”

“Thanks.”

As a parting gift, Steve sets the lights in the room on a dim setting just for him. Bucky lumbers over to the bathroom and switches on the shower, the hiss of the water running white noise for his aching head. When he steps in, he just stands under the pelting hot rain, letting it wash away the oil in his head, the feeling of wearing someone else’s skin melting just a fraction.

He doesn’t know what to expect, but he does figure making a first impression is key.

He runs his fingers through his hair, scrubs the smell of sleep off his skin, and trims his beard until he’s happy enough with how it looks before changing into new clothes. He almost feels like new as he leaves his room. He tucks his hair behind his ears, walking mindlessly, just enjoying the languid stretch and bunch of his muscles.

Eventually he makes it to the kitchen, sliding into one of the stools on the island. Steve’s just taking some glass container out of the microwave when he spots his best friend.

“Hey. Spaghetti and meatballs.” Sliding it over to Bucky, he also hands over a fork and Bucky stabs at the spaghetti. His stomach rumbles at the smell and thought of eating, but he still doesn’t feel hungry enough. He feels weak. Tired. He wants to go back to bed but he also wants to stay out in the sun for a few hours more. The sun kisses his skin through the windows and he squints against the blue sky, wondering.

“Thanks.” Turning his gaze back to the leftovers, he twirls a fork into the spaghetti just as the sound of F.R.I.D.A.Y. overhead catches their attention. He looks to Steve who’s drying a mug with a towel and he shrugs. Bringing a bite into his mouth, Bucky swallows with a relieved sigh as Steve sets down the cup and towel, heading out of the kitchen to meet their visitor.

Biting into a meatball, Bucky feels something uneasy in him coil around him tight. He knows he’s in no shape to meet new people but he’s not going to be rude about it. Practicing a smile, it feels awkward on his lips but he can’t do a thing about it as he tries to think of what to say. He knows about you from what he’s heard Stark say about you and his own digging on his teammates. You have your own Wikipedia page and everything, just like your brother, and he knows it’s an extensive article.

Just be polite. Be yourself. A voice inside him is telling him things he should know but instead, another thought whispers, But what is ‘yourself’? You barely know who you are.

“I’m tired. Guess that’s to be expected but it’s fine.” He hears you before he sees you. Bucky pretends to be as casual as he can as he listens to the four sets of footsteps approach the kitchen. He ducks his head, focusing on the spaghetti and trying to fill up his stomach to stop the uncomfortable growl that’s rumbling inside. “It’s good to see you.”

“A year is too long,” he can hear Steve say and he arches an eyebrow. Miss her that much? Bucky doesn’t want to think about it. He’s only been back two months, and it’s already hard readjusting to his own new life, not to mention Steve’s new one too. “Let me help you with your bags.”

“Thanks. Is Jenny around?”

“Girl misses you.” Stark. “It’s been hard without her sponsor, but we’ve, or more I, kept her on track. God, is this what it’s like to raise a teenage daughter?”

Sponsor. Huh.

“It’s what it’s like to sponsor a teenager who thinks she knows everything, so you’ll have half the challenge.”

“Oh, great. Hopefully, they’ll be more like Pepper.”

“I’m hoping for that, too.” Ms. Potts is here, too. Bucky pauses to listen for the telltale clicks of her heels, and when he does, he resumes eating. He’s seen her once or twice, and it’d been made clear she wouldn’t judge him for his state when she’s seen everything with Tony. That eases some of the burden from his shoulders.

“Thank you, guys. I hate leaving her here alone.”

“She’s a strong kid, Y/N,” Steve says. “Just like you.”

“Don’t suck up to my sister, Rogers. She’s been back for all of two minutes.”

Agreed. If she’s so great, just plant a kiss on her, Steve. God knows you’re the better of us now.

He raises his head just in time to see Steve enter with bags hoisted on his shoulders and a giant smile on his face. Following after is Stark in a pristine suit, not a crease in sight, and the man gives him a quick inspection before he pulls off his sunglasses and folds them, slipping them into his breast coat pocket.

“You want something to eat, G.I. Jane?” Stark asks, pulling aside and that’s when Bucky finally sets his eyes on you. His back goes stiff as he straightens up and Steve barely hides his smile as he sets down your bags. You stand there, holding on to Pepper Potts’ arm when the smile on your face fades as soon as their eyes meet. His eyes rake over your face and your body—black eye, split lip, no sleep, field uniform. They must’ve just pulled you out and by the way you try not to heavily lean onto the woman beside you, it’s medical related. Still, there’s a glint to your eye, a hunger, and he’s not blind enough to not realize you aren’t one of the most attractive people he’s ever seen.

“I’m good,” you reply, your voice no longer as light as it was. Instead, it sounds masked, fake, and Bucky nearly frowns before forcing a smile onto his face. You sound like your brother, and if Bucky wasn’t just as good at lying to oneself as you think you are, maybe he wouldn’t have noticed. It’s like you’ve donned on a façade, a personality the media loves to eat up. He can read it in the eyes. It hasn’t seemed that way but the few times he’s been out with the rest of them, he’s seen the effortless switch Stark can make between Tony Stark and just Tony. “Uh, care to introduce me?”

Right. He’s forgetting himself.

Bucky slides off the kitchen stool, quite sure that there’s no spaghetti sauce on his lip, and you soak in his haggard appearance, an appearance you seem to mirror.

“Hi,” he says, sticking out a hand but you only look at him, unimpressed. His fake smile falters but he still keeps on despite how uncomfortable this situation is getting. “I’m Bucky.”

“Oh, right.�� Your voice is flat, uninterested, cold, as you stare at him. “You killed my parents.”

Shit.

“Right, anyway,” Pepper cuts in before Tony, Steve, or Bucky can say anything. “We should be going to bring her to her room. Tony, would you…” The CEO nudges her head in the way of you and he perks up, sliding into his wife’s place and looping an arm through yours. The two leave the kitchen, heads bowed together and Pepper grabs the bags.

“I’m sorry about that,” she says, eyes focused on Bucky. “It’s been a hard year, and—”

“It’s fine,” Bucky murmurs, turning to sit back down. His stomach growls and he grabs the fork, stabbing a meatball.

“Well, I’m glad to see you, Mr. Barnes,” Pepper adds softly, and she sends a smile his way before hoisting the bags up. “See you later, Steve.”

“Yeah.”

The woman leaves, and Bucky swallows, the lump of meat sitting like rocks in his gut.

“She hates me,” he says flatly and Steve looks at him with a gentle smile—a smile he doesn’t deserve.

“She holds grudges. She’s like Tony that way and he forgave you, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” Bucky sighs, looking down at his spaghetti just as Steve comes around the kitchen island, claps him on the back. “But I don’t think she’s like Tony.”

“Eat up. She’ll come around.”

.

You didn’t come around. Bucky thinks you never did as he leaves his room and stares at the one just across, to the left of his. How often has he tread the few steps needed to cross the hall and walk into that room often full of music or the sounds of frustrated yells?

Your room is quiet, still as the dead.

You never slept there unless it was mission-related and you needed some sleep, or Bucky really pissed you off. Sometimes it was both.

Pressing his flesh hand against the metal door, he clenches his jaw before letting it slide open with a soft swish. The absent smell of clean laundry and your perfume lingers in the air and he walks in, trying to find any difference between now and the last time he was here.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., when was the last time she was here?” he asks aloud.

“Four days ago. The last recorded entry was just before her disappearance but she has asked me to delete all footage concerning her on that night.”

“But you kept it?”

“Mr. Stark implemented a protocol Ms. Stark is unaware of. Should I make a rational call and believe that she is in danger, I am programmed to save any and all evidence that could be vital in securing her.”

“Then why haven’t you brought this to Tony?”

“Ms. Stark has coded in her own loophole in my program that Mr. Stark is unaware of. It prevents me from releasing any information that may compromise Ms. Stark and any of her activities she would rather keep secret. Like you, for example. Because I am unaware of her motives, I am caught in a bind between my two protocols.”

“Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y.” Bucky shakes his head, heading into your bathroom and turning on the lights. All of your skincare and soaps are still there, your toothbrush untouched, and there’s a towel still hanging on the rack. Your first-aid kit is still on the counter by the sink, not clasped shut. Nothing here. Backing out, he switches off the lights and crosses his arms over his chest, frowning deeply.

“Did she take anything?” He spins around, eyes passing over your dresser, your closet. “Clothes, makeup, anything?” Walking by your made bed, he catches sight of your workbench and approaches it.

His hands brush over the screen surface and it lights up at the swipe of his fingers. The text lights up along with a login and password and he frowns thoughtfully, pressing a hand against the screen. A line scans his palm and fingers, and his eyebrows rise when it gives him access.

WELCOME BUCKY BARNES

“Run surveillance.”

The screen burns into his corneas as the feed runs and he leans over, watching as you enter the room. You’re still in that tight dress you wore to the party and you’re stuffing clothes into your bag with no rhythm or reason as you root through your dresser, through your closet. Your head isn’t turned to the camera but by the way you’re constantly wiping at your face, he wonders if you’re crying.

The timestamp tells him you took one of your suits home and he swallows when you finally zip up your bags, glancing around to see if you’ve missed something only you know you’re looking for. When you’re satisfied, you rush to the table Bucky stands at now and brings up a file, a keyboard spreading across the surface.

“What is she doing?”

“Analyzing now.”

You want me to find you, right? he wonders to himself. His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, of why, and how, and I’m sorry, and he’s starting to feel sick as you plug something into the bottom of your workbench.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. makes a soft hum as she reruns the clip.

“A USB was inserted.”

“What was on it?” Automatically, his hand mimics yours and brushes against a slick black thing. Crouching, he spots the USB plugged in, blended into the metal of your workbench. Your initials are carved into the butt, jagged and so you.

“Scanning.”

Standing up again, he enlarges the surveillance feed. He looks down at your interface, at the suit designs you have saved in your files and mission reports you’ve yet to file. Steve was always on your ass about that before his eyes pass over to the feed again. It’s magnetic the way his eyes follow your movements, the dance of your fingers over an interface.

“It’s a collection of surveillance clips strung together. It appears Ms. Stark had a stalker.” The A.I.’s voice weaves into his ears as another voice streams through the workbench and Bucky frowns when a clip plays just as it does in the video.

“Can you play what she’s watching?”

The clip cuts to another and he looks at the time stamp and location. Three hours earlier.

Miami.

Shit. Bucky closes his eyes. He knows what this is. The audio continues to run and he pushes back, stung. He hears the sound of the slamming door and prays it’s the slam of the door when you walked away from him.

He is not so lucky.

“What the fuck was that?”

He stumbles back at the sound of his voice, his legs hitting the mattress. Bucky falls back, sinking into the bed, sucking in a huge breath as he stares up at your ceiling. You used to project stars onto the ceiling because it made your world so much bigger. He remembers, before everything got so fucking complicated, AKA the past week, he would spend hours next to you, pointing out constellations after he’d fucked you into the mattress.

How much simpler it was, then.

“What? You mean the reason I’m throwing a party in the first place?”

“Yeah. Yeah, the reason you’re throwing a party. This is what it’s for? Not because we just pulled off the fucking impossible?”

Your incredulous laugh: bitter, cold. “I’m allowed to choose I don’t want to do this anymore, Barnes. I’m allowed to fuck someone who isn’t you.”

“That’s not what this is about!”

“Isn’t it? That guy had his hands all over me and you couldn’t help but look like you wanted to punch his lights out. You just happened to want to talk to me the instant we started dancing. Just a coincidence, huh?”

“He is bad news.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do! It’s what you do when you’re sad. You latch onto people you think can give you the same high. It’s not healthy, robin.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are trying to control me? My fucking dad? Newsflash, you’re the guy who killed him and newsflash, he didn’t give two shits about who I really was. You think he saw me and thought I was a person? Fucking saw me as more than his perfect little charity case?”

“Y/N—”

“You have some fucking nerve thinking you have any say in what I decide to do with what life I have left. I’ve spent ten years trying to protect innocent people, and keep this together, but I can’t. I am miserable! I am so alone.” The cry in your voice splits Bucky in two as it did the first time he heard you, so weak, so isolated and little. You were cracking at the seams and he watched as you held yourself together in that room, sucking in a breath. “I am so alone except when I’m with you, and you know how much I hate that? I hate you!”

“I know, robin. I’m right here. Talk to me.”

A quivering breath—Bucky can hear your shaking through your voice as you clear your throat. “I just… I can’t, anymore. I can’t stand you. This needs to end, Barnes. I… I need to go after what I want, even if it means stepping away from this.”

“There are people who need you. I can help you—”

“I want a family. Kids, a guy who actually likes me more than my money.” He can imagine the tilt of your head, your ironic smile. His heart wilts at the thought of it. “Can you help me find a guy like that?” Pause. Your chuckle rings bitter. “Knew I wouldn’t be able to find it here.”

“So, this isn’t enough for you.”

Crackle. The audio cuts so quietly that Bucky almost thinks the footage has shorted but then he hears your voice, and he knows it’s not over. He can still replay the scene line by line, block by block in his head: straight out of a fucking movie.

“It isn’t.”

“Then, what was Singapore?” Quiet, remorseful, Bucky has never sounded so pitiful. It had been surprising in the moment, but now he only feels the wave of sorrow that slowly fills his lungs.

A moment, three beats of the heart. Bucky can almost imagine your brain turning in that small pause when everything inside his chest collapsed at the revelation that showed itself so clearly. And grief morphs into rage, if it is given the right rot to sink into.

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You’re lying, because I know you, Y/N. I do know you, and you know me. You know I’m not afraid of you. You want a family? You got one right here.”

“Well, I don’t want this one.”

Ragged breathing. He swore he could hear I don’t want you bouncing off the walls.

Bucky wants to knock himself out to stop himself from hearing this torture, from reliving all the regret that comes down on him in waves but he can’t. He loves the pain that comes with you, the difficulty of knowing you. It has made his every day a welcomed challenge ever since he met you.

“Then what kinda family do you want, huh? Picket fence, apple pie on the weekends?” There is no answer. “Are you so incapable of recognizing what you want that you’ll jump into bed with any guy who shows the slightest bit of decency towards you? Because then you’re just setting yourself up for more hurt when you realize that you are not going to be happy with him.”

“I slept with you, didn’t I?”

In hindsight, Bucky knows it stings more than it did the first time around.

“And you hate me. And you’ll hate whoever you love who isn’t someone like us because he won’t understand the way you want him to. He will never understand you. You’ll hate yourself because you can’t love him the way you want to, the way he will love you, and you don’t deserve your own hate. You deserve better than that.”

“You have no idea what I deserve.”

He has a crystal clear idea of what you deserve. It is more than the world has to offer, it is more than he can ever give you.

“No.” Finality. The swing of a guillotine. Within moments, everything had fractured between you two. “I guess I don’t. I have no idea who you are, or your problems, or anything about your life. I don’t know you at all, so why not let me be honest since we’re complete strangers?” The sarcasm is dripping from his voice and you let out a disbelieving scoff.

“Oh, for the love of—”

“You‘re so terrified of opening yourself up again that the next time a guy hurts you, you’re afraid you’re not gonna make it. But you think you’re so riddled with problems that no one will ever love you. You’re so convinced that you’re unlovable.” Recording-Bucky pauses, watching your reaction. “Even though it’s not true.

“Yes, it is.”

“I don’t want to tell you for the billionth time that any guy would be lucky to have even a scrap of your attention, robin. I don’t want to keep telling you when you don’t even try to believe it. So, tell me, how are you gonna find your ‘dream man’ if you think you’re unlovable? Is he just gonna fly into your lap like a fucking angel? Do you even know what you’re looking for?” He waits, then: “I thought so.”

You exhale sharply, and it’s bitter against the roof of his mouth as delicate, fake niceties wave their way into your words. “You know what? I’ll figure it out without you, and I didn’t throw a party to be attacked by the one person who’s supposed to have my back. You don’t have to be happy for me, but you could’ve at least sucked it up and held yourself back from ruining my night. I’m leaving, whether you like it or not. Good luck with your new partner, Barnes.”

Fading clicks of heels that stop at his words.

“Oh, so now you’re walking away because I’m right?”

“Oh, no, I’m not walking away from your incessant need to be right. I’m walking away from you.” There is a moment of silence, as if to grieve what has come to pass, and when you speak again, you’re so incredibly sad that Bucky’s heart is in shambles in his chest. His lungs weep, his ribs ache, and he rolls onto his side, eyes closed as he lets the sound of words he still remembers wash over him. “You’re ridiculous. You know that right?” You laugh again, except it’s colder, more incredulous and shackled with sadness. He wishes he didn’t know you so well. “You’re fucking transparent.”

Echoing footsteps.

“If you walk away now, don’t bother coming back!”

Silence. Bucky can hear his own strained breathing, your soft sigh as you soaked in his ultimatum.

“Don’t worry. I won’t.”

The door slams shut.

Bucky tells F.R.I.D.A.Y. to shut off the workbench and simply lays there on your bed for he doesn’t know how long.

He thinks he will simply shatter should he put his foot on the ground again.

.

You're cold, arrogant, and smarter than almost everyone in the room and you know it. You own it, and if Bucky didn’t hate that kind of person who thinks she’s better than anyone just because she’s rich, he’d admire both you and your beauty.

But you are rich, and entitled, and absolutely, in some way or another, the worst. You’re worse than your brother, spiteful, and quick to anger, but that might be because you hate Bucky in particular. That’s fine. Bucky doesn’t particularly have an inclination to be your friend either. In fact, he’d rather you stay away to avoid any clashes that have barely been prevented by your off-hand comment of him not being worth the energy and his talent for ignoring you despite how you get his blood boiling.

Unfortunately, your room is right across the hall from his, and what he gets out of you is a passing glance full of spite every morning to really start his day. Sometimes, he sees you and you’re on the phone or in the gym, running drills with Tony in the air, or just flat out ignoring him, but most of the time, you’re not even at the compound, and Bucky prefers this the most.

He supposes passive loathing is better than you, with your unlimited resources, actively trying to ruin his life. He can’t help but match your level of dislike when you blast music in the mornings and your rain noises at night.

He’s woken up to your music to shout at you to turn it down every day you’ve raised it above a decent limit, but you simply ignore him, close the door on his face, and emerge thirty minutes later for your morning jog.

Bucky can’t go back to sleep after, so he has no choice but to socialize with whoever’s awake at six in the morning who turn out to be Steve and Sam Wilson. He joins their gym competition, welcomes the stretch and pull of muscles in the early hours to wake himself up despite how hard it is to get his body to pull itself out of bed. Steve likes that he’s out of his room more often, anyway, so he supposes he should be grateful for small blessings, even if he doesn’t show it.

Whenever Steve brings it up, Bucky shoots back he can’t go back to his room because there is no existence of peace or quiet.

It’s on one such a morning that he’s standing outside, listening to the beginnings of some seventies jam pound through the walls, that he reminds himself of this fact.

“Open up, Stark!” he yells, telling himself if you don’t answer, he’s gonna pound that door down. “I’m not gonna ask again.” Something shuffles inside and he frowns, leaning in closer to try to listen in on the muffled voices before it swings open and he jerks back, face settling in a scowl his muscles are trained to do every time he sees you.

“What?” Your voice is sharper than the sharpest blade as you glower at him and the sight of you burns itself into its irises. He knows you’re put together. That’s the mask you like to put up—you’re a Stark, you have to be. Rarely has he ever seen your brother a mess around people he doesn’t know, but now you appear before him. You’re pale, in the clothes he’d seen you wear the night before, and everything about you reminds him of something fading away as you wait for him to speak.

“Are you alright?” he asks stiffly, and you merely stare at him blankly for a moment as if you were going to answer truthfully before the sound of someone throwing up catches both of their attention. Turning around, you disappear into your room, and Bucky stands outside awkwardly, waiting. The music is still blasting but he realizes it’s one he recognizes. Trouble Man of a soundtrack of the same name. Sam always recommends it to him whenever he mentions something even remotely related to music.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Come on, just get it out.” The sound of your voice, smooth and warm, draws him in and he tentatively walks into your room, eyes scanning his surroundings. Another bout of retching draws him to the bathroom where he sees a pair of legs sprawled over the tile. You hold a girl by her arm, the other scooping her hair behind her head.

“Glad to hear you’ve begun to wake at a decent hour, Barnes,” you comment without turning your head away from the girl hunched over your toilet seat. Finally, she pulls back and collapses against you, and you grab at a rag above your head hanging on the countertop and pat at her forehead. “Get her into bed.”

“No…” the girl moans, legs curling underneath her as she pulls into a ball. Bucky’s eyes widen. She looks so small. “Don’t wanna move.”

“It’s alright, darling. He’s gonna carry you.” Your eyes find his again and he walks in, crouching by her waist. “On three.” Bucky’s hands scoop underneath her knees and the other goes underneath her back as you grab the trashcan and stack of towels.

“One, two, three.” With a gentle yet hasty lift, the girl is hoisted into the air and transported onto the bed. Bucky backs up as soon as she’s down and you rush in beside him. You begin to tuck her into bed, your movements practiced, and Bucky is struck with the realization.

“This is Jenny,” he breathes, and you turn to him, eyes narrowed. “What do you need me to do?”

“Get a basin, fill it with cold water, and more trash bags.” Nodding, he turns back to the bathroom, opening the cabinet beneath the sink to pull out a plastic basin. “Fuck, Jen. It’s okay, let it all out.” Over the stream of water, he pricks his ear to the sound of a sob-wrecked voice.

“‘M sorry, Y/N. Just wanted to feel better.”

“I know.”

“It was so hard.”

“I know. Hey, it’s okay. I’m glad you came to me, okay?” Turning off the sink, he walks back to the bed and sets the basin by your feet before procuring some trash bags and setting them by the trash can as well. You’re leaned over, dotting the girl’s brow as he takes the moment to look around your room. It’s messy, a mess of clothes and bags strewn everywhere, books on tables, forgotten cups, but it’s organized. He can see it. “Get some sleep, okay? You’re gonna feel pretty fucking shitty over the next few weeks.”

“I know.” Bucky’s gaze drags back to you as you pull back on your heels, standing up straight. Your eyebrows are drawn together still as you pull the covers up to the girl’s chin. Wiping at your own forehead with the back of your hand, you nearly back up into him and he holds out his hands to prevent you from bumping into him.

The instant his fingers make contact with your back, you whip around like a startled deer.

“You,” you breathe, sounding strangely spooked and he backs up, hands where you can see them. You swallow and the fear in your eyes washes away when you blink. Clearing your throat, you try to make yourself seem more presentable with a swipe of hair out of your face, a clearing of your throat, but he doesn’t know why it matters.

“Is she going to be okay?” he asks with a quick glance at Jenny who’s slipped away already. You brush past him, turning down the music from your phone, plucking a hoodie from a hook on the wall and jerking your head for him to follow.

“She’ll be fine.” Opening the door, you lean against the wall outside as Bucky steps into the pale, luminescent lights. It’s much cooler outside, the blue making the metal look cold as you pull on the hoodie and cross your arms over your chest.

You’re wearing an AC/DC hoodie, and Bucky counts himself lucky he hasn’t woken up to that yet. He gets enough from Stark blasting it as they take the quinjet on missions.

“Close the door a bit,” you say, but everything that comes out of your mouth sounds like an order. Still, Bucky complies before looking at you blankly. He’s come to expect nothing but hostility from you, and instead, you look almost relieved. “Don’t tell Tony why I brought her here. She texted me last night in the city and I had to pick her up.”

“I thought she was getting better,” Bucky says and you scowl. He knows you don’t like what he’s implying but he keeps his tone cool, even. “Stark took care of her the year you were gone, right?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, but she was lying.”

“To Iron Man?” It takes guts, and a whole lotta skill. Bucky narrows his eyes at you, but you stand upright, unafraid to stare back. Normally, a passing glance causes recruits to scatter, but you merely let the cold slide off of you. “What kinda kid does that?”

“She’s an addict. Addicts are good at lying, Barnes, for whatever reason they have.” You fiddle with your phone in your hand before uncrossing your arms and looking at the screen. “Fuck. It’s seven, already?”

“Miss your morning jog?” he retorts half-heartedly, and you shoot him a glare, pocketing the device and brushing past him.

“Yeah, actually. I had more important things to worry about.” Letting the door click shut behind you, he listens to you shuffle around inside your room, presumably cleaning up and goes back into his room with a slam.

At lunch, you come down to grab an extra bowl of stew for Jenny and Bucky offers to make up your run with one together in the evening as he hands you a bowl he’s ladled with extra beef and carrots. You tell him you’re busy and brush him off without a second look back.

“And Jenny?” he asks lowly, but you merely shoot him a look that tells him to shut up.

“I can take care of her myself,” you growl softly, snatching the bowl and disappearing through the doorway. Tony makes a comment about grudges, Steve doesn’t say a word.

Before he heads to bed, Bucky hears you whispering tired phrases over the sound of Jenny throwing up again and lets himself in. You’re in too big clothes that nearly swallow your frame and you’re exhausted as you run a hand down Jenny’s back who dry heaves until she collapses against the tub. You reek of coffee and Bucky wrinkles his nose at the smell of acid and regurgitated beef stew, watching your limp hand flush the toilet.

“Are you sure I can’t help?” he asks, and you glance up, eyes barely open. Lips curving down, you shake your head and fight to stay awake as Jenny curls into a ball against the tile. Your arms are propped up on your knees and your head dips as you let out a sigh.

“Get out,” you whisper. Bucky frowns, soaking in your words before stepping inside. He ignores your stink eye as he scoops up Jenny again, bringing her to your bed, and he lays her down, pulling the covers to her chin. A stale glass of water and an empty bowl lay on the bed stand while his foot kicks into the first aid kid tucked underneath the bed.

Turning to the bathroom, his feet barely make a sound against the floor as he spots you frozen in your spot, head dipped.

Bucky doesn’t need to be a super soldier to know you’re fast asleep. Crouching, he listens to your steady breathing, the soft mumbles under your breath and he gently pokes your arm.

“Wake up,” he whispers and you jolt awake, your back ramming hard against the cupboard with a painful gasp. Your leg jerks back, your knee to your chest and he flinches back, hands raised just as your foot collides with his solar plexus. The air pushed out of his lungs, he slams back into the tub with a painful slam, and he sucks in a huge breath, clutching his chest. “Fuck—”

“Don’t fucking touch me.” Your breathing is jagged, your chest heaving. Within your eyes, he sees something wild flare behind your irises and he sinks into the floor, slouched against the tub.

“Okay,” he replies, quiet. He doesn’t want to wake Jenny up and the only sound is your desperate breaths, your hiccuping sighs. Your eyes are still wild, and you stare at him with an open fear he has not seen ever reside in your gaze. “Y/N—”

“Get out,” you whisper harshly between your teeth. He can tell it takes all your courage not to scream, your whole body taut with the urge to run. He stands up slowly, hands open so you can see his every movement. “Get out.”

“I’m going.” Leaving the room slowly, he feels your stare burn into your back and there’s a clatter of something against the floor tile. The sound of whales humming ushers him out and the door slams shut behind him as soon as he’s out the door. There’s a ravenous hole inside him, devouring him in bit by bit the longer he stands outside your door, and his judgement gets the better of him as he turns around with the deepest sigh.

Pressing his ear against the door, he closes his eyes and tries to listen past the whale crooning but he can’t. Besides, it settles on his skin uneasily—a thick coat of oil and discomfort that traps him in. He returns back to his room and doesn’t sleep right away as he usually does.

He’s breaking habits around you, whether he likes it or not. Pulling out a notebook Steve bought for him a few days after he found him, he picks a pen from his small collection, and begins to write.

.

“You haven’t seen her?” Bucky asks, running a hand through his hair. On the other end of the phone, Jenny makes a small noise that tells him no.

“Not since the last meeting. She was fine, but she looked tired. That’s all.” Flipping over the sleek USB in his hand, Bucky runs a thumb along your initials and sighs. “You… you don’t think—”

“If she went off the tracks, there would’ve been warning signs,” he assures her quietly. “We know that. No McDonald’s, no spending spree, no random gifts.” Leaning against the rails of the compound, he looks at the crowd of news reporters outside. Tony has a press conference in half an hour.

It’s been two days since the Avengers social media accounts released a statement regarding a mission you’ve gone off to. It’ll buy them time without anyone expecting you, but as always, the media is questioning what mission, where, why, how. They want all the details.

“Completely off the grid operation,” Steve had offered. Tony agreed for lack of a better idea. The man was out of his mind, eye bags Bucky had seen frequently drag at your eyes brushing his face.

“Did she ever tell you anything about a stalker?” He dips his chin to look at his cleaned boots. There’s still a mud scuff on the toe from his walk through the woods earlier to clear his head of you, but it’s nothing a few swipes with a towel can’t fix.

“No, why?” Jenny’s voice twinges and Bucky sighs again. He doesn’t have enough energy to breathe these days when it’s all spent on trying to find clues of what you’ve left behind. “At the last AA meeting, she talked about Afghanistan. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard her talk about it around a bunch of people she doesn’t know.”

“She went into detail?”

“Not too much. Just ended with what she always says.”

“‘You can’t wait for someone to fly underneath you and save your life. I think you have to save yourself.’” As Bucky quotes it, he can hear your voice saying it, cold, dead, ravaged by tears you’ve never stopped unleashing. God, it was one of your go to excuses for ignoring help even when he thought you needed it. It infuriated him—it made him respect you, anyway. “Well, she can fly alright.”

“Yeah. It was her go to thing to say whenever I wallowed in my self-pity, and decided enough was enough. I always thought she was the worst person I’ve ever met.”

“You probably know far worse,” Bucky replies distantly. You know me. “But she did something right. You’re okay, now.”

“I only wish I could’ve helped her somehow,” she says. “Since the day I met her… hah, she was an angry person, Bucky. And lonely, and sad. And she never counted on anyone. Never asked for a thing for herself. Never trusted anyone except herself.” For a moment, Jenny doesn’t say anything despite him knowing she has something on her tongue. Bucky’s flesh hand wraps around the pole, feeling it cool against his hot palm. “That changed when she met you.”

Liked. Was. As if you are dead and he has failed you. As if they’ve ripped off every tooth and claw off of you, drained you of your spirit that has shattered and mended too many times for him to count. As if you are missing, and he has fucked up, and his tongue is heavy in his mouth as he clears his throat and his mind.

“Mhm.”

“I know she never said it, but she did. She trusted you.”

“Yeah, well,” he breathes with a shrug, twisting so he faced the railing. The coil inside of him pulls tighter, “we’ll figure that out after we find out.”

“She talked about her death so often, I feel like it’s real this time. Like she’s really missing and she doesn’t want to be found,” comes the hushed reply. “I don’t want to give up, Bucky, but—”

“I know.”

“Call me if you find anything,” Jenny orders, sounding a lot like you. Bucky agrees, lifeless. As if he wouldn’t.

“I’d feel better if you stayed at the compound.”

“Maybe I’ll come over later tonight. I’m gonna go watch the press junket, see what Tony says, and then go to class. Keep my mind off of it, and the possibilities.”

“Okay. Stay safe, and call me. I’m still here for you.” Jenny hangs up and Bucky groans, tilting his head back and bracing himself against the rail. You are much better at handling her than he is. Always was.

“Hard night?” He cranes his neck to see Natasha walking up to him in a pencil skirt and dress jacket. Huh. Black Widow all dressed up and no place to go.

“Harder day. You going to the junket?” he asks, arching an eyebrow at her outfit and she smiles but there’s nothing to it. He figures. Natasha loved you like a sister. Loved. He needs to not pick up the habit of talking about you like you’re dead. You aren’t.

He would’ve felt it if you were. He knows it.

“Yeah. Tony needs the support, and I’ll be there in case he needs me to take over. He’s losing his mind over this. You?”

“No. Stark’s good at playing the press and he doesn’t need me there when I’m pretty sure he hates me,” Bucky says and Natasha’s smile shrinks, leaning in beside him. “I’m always fucking his family over.” His poor attempt at a joke makes her chuckle wryly, the sound coming out choked and wet. “You okay, Nat?”

“I know we’re trying to be positive here, but… she said someone was following her. I told her it was crazy. That no one would fucking snatch her when we’re there, but…” Pinching the bridge of her nose, she closes her eyes and trails of tears race down her cheeks. “She was so worried about something else that I said I’d keep an eye out for her. If someone did catch her… and that’s why… I fucked up, James.” Her eyes meet his again, wide with fear, open to the softest spots of her. It’s rare and it alarms Bucky to no end. If Natasha’s scared, there’s a reason to be fucking terrified.

“We all did,” he murmurs, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You should probably head down there before they kill you.”

“Ah, yeah. Give me a sec.”

“Okay.” Bucky turns and leans back onto the railing again, letting a gentle silence rest over the two trained killers. He doesn’t say anything when Natasha lets out a soft, shuddering breath and wipes at her face with a tissue from a pack in her pocket. In turn, she offers him one. He declines. Natasha shrugs and wipes away smears of makeup that she somehow knows are there. Bucky never understood the magic of it all—you and Nat had such a talent for seeming so put together it made you both impossible to read.

Bucky likes to think he’s gotten better at it over the past two years, for the both of them.

His throat aches as he blinks, and the stinging in his eyes eases as he sucks in a cold breath. The heel of his flesh hand rubs at his face angrily, swiping away his grief and Natasha pretends not to see it, putting away her pack.

“She’s missing. I know she is,” Natasha says with dreadful confidence. “But I also know she doesn’t want you to give up on her, you know? She liked you more than anyone.”

“Yeah, that’s what people keep telling me,” he snaps, voice rough, grating. She doesn’t want you to give up, some part of his head notes, not doesn’t want ‘us’. Bucky’s gaze meets Natasha’s, and the woman merely smiles softly. She knows he’s caught her. “Funny way of showing it.”

“You know she didn’t hate you,” Nat whispers, a hand on his forearm. Bucky shakes his head, hair curtaining him away from his old student. “You know you didn’t hate her. It isn’t too late to make things right.” A pressure crushes him from the center of his head, a world placed between his shoulders as he struggles to hold up this façade you can wear for months on end.

He doesn’t hate you.

“It’d be much easier if I knew she was dead already. I know how to make peace with ghosts.”

It’d be much easier if he did.

Natasha’s mouth curls into a wry smile. “As if she’d ever make peace with you.”

.

The only time Bucky really is forced to spend time with you is when they run drills, and Bucky likes to think he works well with you if you can hold your tongue for more than two seconds. You’re a snarky little thing who can warn him not to bring up Jenny again with just a single glance and convey your intent to target with just the twitch of your lip. Then again, you’re easy to read on the battlefield. You make your objectives clear.

His knuckles ache wonderfully and he can hear a solid kick land a few ways off. Turning, he watches as you twist to launch a powerful sidekick at a dummy, letting it fly a few feet away before going to grab it.

“Where were you stationed?” he asks wearily as you wipe the sweat off your brow. Half of him yells for even approaching the beast, but he’s not afraid of you. You just piss him off so easily and by your arched brow in surprise that he’s talking to you, you know it. A call over the PA warns them of supper, and Bucky sighs, wiping at sweat with the back of his hand.

His muscle shirt is slick with the evidence of his labour as he hoists the dummies up to carry them back into the warehouse a little ways off. You pick up your own dummy and walk after him. “Before Somalia, I mean?” How did you get your own set of problems, he asks quietly to himself, because they don’t just start overnight and you don’t get help like everyone else. What is it with you? Pride?

“Former navy. Cryptologic linguist, two tours, then Afghanistan. I’m head of the Stark Relief Foundation, so I was touring with my brother at his insistence,” you say flatly. “It went wrong. That’s it.”

He stops along the track, meeting your eyes. You skid to a halt beside him. “Kidnapped?” Like your brother?

Your eyes are piercing but he doesn’t falter. He can tell no one really speaks your mind around you so when your eyes command him to shut up, he doesn’t. It might be pushing you a bit, but he has a feeling no one asks. Maybe they’re too afraid of you like you’re some princess, but he doesn’t care.

Bucky’s never met a princess quite like you before.

“None of your business,” you correct. He scoffs, rolls his eyes and meets your eyes again.

“You got a therapist?”

“Oh, you know what?” You put on a sickly sweet smile, dumping your dummy at his feet. “Put it away for me, won’t you, sarge?” The thing bounces against his shins, and the beginnings of his own smirk drop off his face as you begin to walk away.

“I don’t work for you, Stark. Clean up after yourself.”

He watches as your figure turns around, your lips turned in a mocking pout. “Oh, I do, but seeing as you’re about to become insufferable, I need to take a walk.”

“Can’t take it?”

“You’re the one with a million questions. Why don’t you figure anything out before you ask stupid questions like the paps? The internet exists for a reason.”

“I like to rely on the primary source,” he shoots back and you laugh. It sounds just as mocking as your pout looked and the sound strangles out any air in his lungs. His blood boils at your grin.

“As if the primary source is reliable. Which you should understand by the way.”

Your words work underneath his skin and his lips twist deeply into a scowl. “Thanks for the reminder. At least I’m getting help for my problems. When’s the last time you saw your therapist?”

“Don’t have one. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” Really? Liar. “Who’s the one with the chip, anyway? I think that’s fucking dealing.”

Who’s the one who needs one? Bucky wants to say in kind, but he doesn’t. “You know just as well I do that it isn’t.”

“I hate you,” you tell him plainly. “You have no idea what happened or what I’ve been through and you’re making these assumptions that I need to deal with something. I don’t.”

“Does anyone really know what happened to you?” he snaps, dropping his targets to the grass.

He expects you to jut out your chin, say yes, obviously. Your whole life is plastered on social media—Instagram, Twitter, the occasional Snapchat story—that you’re a book everyone and no one knows how to read.

“No.” Your voice colder than the antifreeze in his blood and his eyebrows rise at the shimmer of doubt in your gaze. “And I don’t want to talk about it with someone like you.”

“Which is?” He keeps his tone even despite the simmering, bitter sensation that cramps up his chest and urges him to throw himself forward and scream.

“A killer—” You walk up to him, eyes unforgiving— “who thinks there’s damage in everyone just ‘cause the world fucked up with you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Your eyebrows rise and fall as you shove your face into his. You’re tantalizingly close, and he frowns at the lick of fire inside his gut when you snarl, “I’m not fucking broken, Barnes. You don’t know shit about me. You don’t need to psychoanalyze me and try to figure out what’s wrong with the rich girl.”

“Something's always wrong with the rich girl,” he retorts, and you laugh. It’s empty, hollow, but still, you laugh and it makes him uneasy, cornered, prey.

“Not me. My life is fucking peachy right now. Hell, I’m talking to the guy who killed my mom and somehow not strangling him despite every thought in my head telling me to wrap my hands around your throat.” You tilt your head, and a saccharine smile somehow splits your face eerily. “Guess I’m the bigger person that way.” You begin to walk away from him and Bucky opens his mouth, his throat cinched shut as he tries to calm the rage inside him. “See you around, sarge.”

He waits until you’re gone before he begins the journey to the warehouse.

He has to make a return trip for the dummy you dropped at his feet, and he’s late for supper. Steve asks why he’s late, and Bucky doesn’t miss your sly smirk as you dig into your burger.

“No reason,” he lies. “Just decided to take my time from the warehouse.”

Two can play at that game.

[avintagekiss24]

If three’s a crowd, then what does that make four? || Steve Rogers. Bucky Barnes.

PAIRING; Steve Rogers x black!avenger!reader x Bucky Barnes

WORD COUNT; 4,712

WARNINGS; Smut, Sex, Oral Sex (male receiving), Slight Praise Kink, Polyamory, Violence (fight scene)

SQUARE FILLED; I1 for @star-spangled-bingo​ SSB2020 ‘people who shoot at you usually wind up shooting at me, too’

CHALLENGE; @captain-kelli​ 500 Fam Writing Challenge ‘who asked you to intervene? You think you have to rescue me? You think I can’t take care of myself?’

NOTE; This is all things humor, smut, super hero fights, and unnecessary drama. Congrats again to Kelli for the followers milestone, and thanks to the Star Spangled Bingo mods for such a fun card! Both prompts are in bold, and I also went crazy with the italics, per usual. Hope you guys enjoy!

You stare at the wall in front of you as you pee on the little white stick between your legs. Your leg bounces out of anxiety as you gnaw on your bottom lip and pray to every God and Deity that you can think of. You stand and flush the toilet before walking out to set the pregnancy test on the counter. You close your eyes as you start to pace back and forth, wringing your hands within on another before you shake them out. 

It’s going to be okay. This is just… it’s a scare, that’s all. You’ve been through this before.  It’s just… it’s fine, you’re fine!

You push a focused breath through your teeth and place your hands on your hips as you wear a path into your carpet. Just keep thinking good thoughts, you’re fine. You’ll be fine. It’s going to be fine… despite being four weeks late. You groan inwardly as you throw your head back and let out another breath. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

A knock comes at your bedroom door, followed by Bucky’s voice, “What’s the hold up?”

Your stomach drops to the floor as his voice floods your ears, “Just give me a minute, will ya?” You call back.

“Steve’s starting to get pissy.” Bucky calls, “Hurry up, huh?”

“Okay, okay. Two minutes.”

You shake out your hands again as you tilt your head back and force more air out of your mouth, “Okay, you can do this. It’s okay. You’re okay.” You mumble to yourself.

You come to a stop in front of the white stick. You slam your eyes closed, sending out one last prayer before you grab it and lift it eye level. You let out one last breath. You got this. You open your eyes and inhale deeply.

Two pink lines.

Pregnant. 

You swear your heart stops beating right at that moment. You swallow harshly as you blink, secretly hoping that the word will change. But, no matter how many times you blink, no matter how many times you pray,  the two pink lines stay the same. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. You’re pregnant. You. Are. Pregnant. 

“Fuck.”

-----

You sit quietly on the quinjet, strapped in next to Bucky as Steve helms the controls. You keep your head down, your eyes focused on your hands as your mind repeats the same thing over, and over, and over again. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant! How in the fuck are you pregnant? Well, not how, you know exactly how you got pregnant and when it happened. 

It was a particularly active time of the month for you. You couldn’t get enough of Bucky… and Steve for that matter. The three of you finally managed to grab a few days off and decided to run off to Wakanda for a long weekend. You remember that night like it was yesterday.

You sway your hips back and forth as you dance to the music, Boss Bitch pounding through the speakers. You’ve been to your fair share of night clubs,, but nothing compares to a Wakandan night club. Bucky’s chest is pressed into your back as you grind and twerk into him, his metal arm slung around your waist protectively. You pluck a shot glass off of the tray in a waiter's hand as he passes by, and throw your head back to down the brown liquid. Your face scrunches as it burns down your throat but you shake your head quickly and push the burn away.

You turn to face Bucky and throw your arms over his shoulders as you roll your hips into his. He smirks back at you as his hands travel up and down your sides before sliding around your hips to grab your ass. He pulls your bottom half into his as you dance and sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as he watches you move. 

You can feel another pair of eyes on you as the two of you, well, you dance, and Bucky just kinda stands there. You cut your eyes back to your booth and find Steve staring at you as he sips on his whiskey. At least you can get Bucky out on the dance floor - Mr. Sourpuss just likes to watch. You can still hear his words from earlier in the evening - I don’t understand how you two can listen to this shit.

You’re drunk, and horny from grinding on Bucky’s semi all night, and both of your boys are looking good. You grab another shot from another roaming waiter and toss it back before licking the sugar off of the rim. You pull on Bucky’s hand and make your way through the crowd and back to your table. 

“You ready to go?” You ask loudly so Steve can hear you over the music.

He squints his eyes at you, “I’m okay baby, have some fun.”

“It’s okay.” You smile at him, your eyes all sparkly from the alcohol, “I’m ready to go.”

“You sure? We don’t have to leave just because of me. I want you to have fun tonight, don’t worry about me.”

Bucky takes the whiskey from Steve’s hand and takes a sip as he pushes his hard chest into your back, “She wants to fuck, Rogers.”

Steve raises his eyebrows as he shifts out of the booth, “You shoulda just said that then, doll.”

Steve finishes off his whiskey before the three of you head out of the club without paying a dime and make your way  towards the brand new Lexus that T’Challa has supplied for your weekend (it’s nice to be friends with the king). Steve ops to drive, and as soon as you’re in the car, you’re all over the two of them. You sit in Bucky’s lap as you kiss him deeply, your tongue sliding along his, before you suck on it lightly. Your hand slithers to Steve’s shoulder as he weaves the sleek black car through the city, and pushes down his chest and stomach. 

You grind your hips down into Bucky’s as you start to rub Steve’s dick through his slim cut, black chinos. His body responds almost immediately, and that’s got to be your favorite part about him - his hunger for you. The car swerves suddenly as Steve loses focus. Bucky grabs onto the door and tightens his grip on you as you dissolve into laughter and Steve’s cheeks flush pink. 

It’s a miracle that the three of you make it back to your hotel in one piece. The two boys walk gingerly, both sporting rigid hard ons from your shenanigans in the car. You take the elevator to the Presidential suite, yet another perk of being a friend of T’Challa’s. One phone call and you’re all treated like royalty. The doors slide open with a soft ding and before you can step into the room, you’re thrown over Bucky’s shoulder. You giggle as he moves through the lavish room, slapping your ass playfully before he drops you onto the bed. 

You sit up on your elbows and watch the two of them disrobe. You smile sweetly, ogling them both as their chiseled chests and abs are displayed for you. You reach out to touch Steve, sitting up on your knees as you run your hand down his stomach and trace his six pack. You kiss his hard tummy before you glance up at him, your teeth buried into your bottom lip as you give him your big, soft, puppy dog eyes. 

Bucky’s dick is thrust in your face and you instantly grab him in your hand, stroking him slowly. Steve follows suit, grabbing your hand and placing it on his dick as the two of them start to pick and pull at your clothing. You let them strip you naked and settle back on your knees as you jerk them both off with your hands. You sweep your thumbs over the tips of their dicks before you take Steve into your mouth. You hear him exhale slowly as you slide your tongue along his shaft, keeping your eyes on his. 

You moan as your bob your head a few times before releasing him with a pop. You move to Bucky, sucking his cock with the same fervor, relishing in his deep moans. You continue to pump Steve in your hand as you flick the tip of your tongue along Bucky’s slit. Bucky holds your head in his hands, pushing you forward as his hips buck into your face. Steve palms your breast, squeezing and groping gently as he starts to leak onto your hand. 

Steve pushes you back onto the mattress once he’s had enough of just your hand. He climbs onto top of you, spreading your legs with his knees. He teases your cunt, pushing his dick through your wet, sticky folds and pressing at your opening. He slides into you with ease, your muscles spreading as you suck him in. 

Bucky watches from the side of the bed as Steve starts to fuck you, his eyes hooded as he strokes his dick. You hiss as your body bobs up and down with Steve’s strokes and your breasts bounce with the movement. You moan loudly as you reach for Bucky, digging your fingers into his hip as you roll your head towards him to watch him. 

He pulls on his balls gently as his hand glides up and down his shaft at the scene before him. His eyes are slits, his chest tight as his muscles tense and flex with his movements. It’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. 

Steve grips the sheets in his hands as his pace quickens. He mumbles something about how sweet your pussy is, how it drives him crazy, how you fit him so perfectly. Bucky joins in with the praise, whispering how beautiful you are when you take Steve’s dick. How pretty your tits are as the bounce with his steady, hard pace. It’s music to your ears. 

You feel the hitch in Steve’s hips as he pounds into you. You tighten your muscles around him, arching your hips - wanting him to fill you up. You crave them - their seed. You want every drop, every spurt, every ribbon of cum that they can muster inside of you. You want them to make a mess of you. You want them to fill you up until their spunk overflows and leaks right back out of you.

“Give it to me baby,” You groan as Steve bucks into you, “You give me all that dick Stevie baby. Fill me up.”

Your coaxing works wonders. Steve fucks into you one more time and you can feel the heat of his spunk as he explodes. His seed coats your walls as he spills into you, his hips still pumping as he spurts over and over. He gets loud, and so does Bucky as he fucks himself to the sight of the two of you, sending you right over the edge. 

You cum hard. Your clit jumps as your muscles around him contract, tightening and then relaxing as your orgasm washes over you. Your eyes flutter as the adrenaline courses through your veins and sweat pops up on your brow.

Bucky can’t wait any longer. He taps Steve and barely gives him enough time to pull out of you before he slips into you. Steve crawls up to the headboard and rests his back against it as he tries to catch his breath. He watches through hooded eyes as Bucky fucks you into the mattress, hard and fast. Steve reaches for you and palms your tit again, pulling at your nipple as he starts to stoke his dick slowly. 

You shriek as you wrap your legs around Bucky’s waist. Your body is shaky and warm, your pussy achy and wet as the sounds of Bucky’s skin slapping against yours fills the room. You can hear just how wet you are - the sound of his thick cock sliding in and out of your sex adding to your arousal. His metal fingers press into your clit, the pressure pushing you closer and closer to another orgasm. 

You start to quake - your body shivering as another release starts to take hold of you. You cum again within minutes of Bucky entering you, your howls bouncing off of the walls. He cums inside of you, ribbon after ribbon of his seed spurting into you. He collapses onto top of you and presses his hot lips to the side of your face as his hard, ragged breath washes over your skin. 

They took turn after turn after turn with you. They fucked your ass and pussy at the same time before Steve shoved into your mouth as Bucky fucked you from behind. Steve watched as Bucky ate your pussy and you sucked his cock. Steve fingered your pussy, curling his fingers inside of you to stroke your spot as Bucky sucked on your nipple into his mouth and played with the other with his fingers. They even got a little frisky with each other as you pressed your back against the headboard and rubbed yourself into another climax. 

They fucked you stupid. They fucked you until the sun rose the next day. They fucked you until you couldn’t see straight. Wanda and Nat teased you endlessly as you hobbled around the compound for the next week and a half, your pussy sore from the thorough fuckfest. You groan and drop your head into your hands as you replay the glorious weekend, remembering how you thought that your life couldn’t get any better than that. 

You didn’t think about your birth control sitting in the top drawer of your dresser back at Stark Tower the entire weekend the three of you were gone. It completely slipped your mind that you would most definitely be ovulating that exact weekend. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Bucky asks as he nudges you.

“Nothing,” you moan, rubbing your forehead, “I just um, I have a headache.” You feel his blue eyes on you and can’t help but grow irritated. You cut your eyes towards him as you lean back into your seat, “What?”

He widens his eyes as you snap at him, “Nothing. Just checking on you, is all. You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” You unbuckle the straps around your chest and waist and stand as Steve lands the quinjet.

Before either one of them can stop you, you’re off the jet and heading inside of the building before you. You pull your gun from your leg holster and let it lead the way as you listen intently for any movement within the building. You squint your eyes as you move up the stairs, your mind racing. 

You don’t even know who the baby belongs to. What are you gonna name it? How are you going to take care of a baby and keep the world safe? What if some creep finds out about the baby? Worse, what if someone kidnaps him or her to sabotage the three of you or the rest of the team? Where will he or she go to school? Do you want a boy or a girl? God, you are going to gain so much weight. 

You slam your eyes shut, cursing lightly as you try to quiet your mind. Focus, Agent. Before you can center yourself, two operatives push through the door at the landing in front of you. You fire your weapon, striking one in the arm before you scissor kick the second man. You spin the second man around, locking your arm around his neck before you fire more shots at the first. Your bullets strike him four or five more times, emptying your clip as he falls dead. 

You drop your empty weapon and slam your elbow into the second man’s chest. He stumbles backward, but you’re on him before he can fully recover. You punch him in the face before flipping him over your shoulder and slamming him to the ground. You snap your head up to peer up the sets of stairs as more men pour out of the rooms above. 

You take them on one by one, punching and kicking your way through them, taking out all of your anxiety and stress about your newfound condition on them. You use one as a shield and grab his wrist, pointing his weapon towards one of his own. You push your finger into his, shooting his cohort four, five, six times with his weapon before you throw him to the ground and the other man drops. 

They drop like flies as you pick through them. Bullets fly all around you but your vision is so tunneled that you don’t even notice, or care. You run straight at one of them, lowering your shoulder into his chest as you run him over. You bash your elbow into his face over and over, knocking him unconscious as you grab for his gun. You lift it, about to fire again, when Steve’s shield whips through the air. It crashes into the men at the far end of the hallway before sticking in the wall. 

Bucky approaches from behind the men, snapping one’s neck like a twig before he grabs and breaks another man’s arm. Steve flips over you as he and Bucky take care of your light weight. You roll your eyes as you stand, angry dusting off your legs with your hands as they swiftly dismantle the rest of the men. You’re fuming as you stand there, hands on your hips as your chest rises and falls. You’re sure that steam is piping out of your ears. 

Steve pulls his shield from the wall and slides his hands through the small, square handles on the inside. He turns back towards you, his lips parting and his eyes going wide as you glare back at him. He taps Bucky, who faces in the opposite direction, surveying the hallway through the sight of his assault rifle. He glances back at you over his shoulder before he turns and eyes you cautiously. 

Bucky slides his eyes to Steve slowly before returning them to you, “Why are you looking at us like that?”

“Who asked you to intervene?” You hiss, as you push your hands down your cat suit, “You think you have to rescue me? You think I can’t take care of myself?”

“What?” Steve asks, squinting his eyes at you, “Where is this coming from? We’re a team.”

You push past them angrily, bumping shoulders with Bucky as you move down the hallway, “Hey,” Bucky calls as he whips around to stare at you, “People who shoot at you usually wind up shooting at me, too. You might wanna stow that attitude, Agent.”

“Why don’t you cram it, Barnes!”

“What in the hell is wrong with you?” Steve asks as concern fills his face and eyes. 

You start to feel bad as you stare back at them, after all, being an asshole isn’t going to cure you of your current disposition. Your chest heaves as your mind starts to race again, buzzing through all of the questions of parenthood. Your stomach starts to churn as the anxiety and fear and adrenaline from your fight starts to flood through you. You are so irresponsible, your brain hisses, you could have gotten yourself killed. You have to start thinking about the baby! 

You swallow hard and immediately take a deep breath as you rest your hands on your hips again. You bend over suddenly, dragging in deep breaths as your stomach twists and turns. You feel a hand on your back and feel Steve and Bucky’s bodies huddling around you. You push away from them and turn away just as the bile rises in your throat. 

Bucky holds your ponytail as you puke your guts up. Steve rubs your back slowly - neither one leaving your side until you’re finished. Tears flood your eyes as you spit before standing up straight, placing your hands on your hips again. How in the fuck could you be so stupid! 

Steve and Bucky follow you with their eyes as you start to pace back and forth, wiping at your face angrily, “Babe, what is going on?” Bucky finally asks.

You shake your head as you finally let out a quick sob, “I’m -” God, you can’t even say it. 

“What?” Steve asks softly as he moves up beside you again, “You’re what?”

You cover your face with your hands, shaking your head slowly before you close your eyes and tilt your head towards the ceiling, “I’m pregnant.”

The words ring in your ears. Complete silence falls over the three of you as you stand in the body riddled hallway. Now’s probably not the best time, considering that you’re in a building infested with the opposition, but what-the-fuck-ever. Your life as you know it is over anyway. 

“Pregnant?” Bucky asks as if he’s unfamiliar with the term, “How did you-”

“Oh, so it’s my fault?” You snap at him, cutting him off before he can finish.

“Buck,” Steve starts, “Not now.”

“Let me finish!” He yells, “How did you think it was a good idea to come on this mission?” He asks angrily, “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Bucky -” Steve starts.

“No, that’s idiotic!”

You stare at them like each one has two heads as they start to squabble back and forth. You squint your eyes as your mouth falls open. You literally just told them that you’re pregnant - you are with child - and this fool is worried about why you came on the mission? Really?

“I’m sorry,” You start, closing your eyes as you hold out your hands, “Did you hear me? Did you hear what I said?” You shout at them, quieting them instantly, “I’m pregnant!”

“Yeah, we heard you the first time.” Steve says.

You widen your eyes as you throw your hands into the air, “And that’s all you have to say? Why did you come on the mission?”

“What else do you want us to say?” Bucky quips, “You’re putting my baby in harm's way! Get your ass back in the quinjet!”

“Your baby?” Steve asks incredulously, “What makes you think it’s your baby?”

The two start to bicker again, leaving you completely baffled, but then suddenly angry again, “Guys! Focus, will you! How in the hell am I going to raise a baby? I’m an avenger! I fight crime for a living!” They both stop and look back at you as you continue to ramble, “I don’t even know which one of you is the father… I can’t remember where I leave my goddamn phone is half the time, how am I going to be responsible enough to raise a kid? And you two goons are arguing about whether or not I should be here!”

Steve glances over at Bucky before he places his eyes on you again, “Are you serious? You’re going to be a great mom.” He says confidently and slightly confused as to why you think you won’t be.

“What are you going on about? You’ll be great.” Bucky adds, “To be honest, I’m a little surprised that you didn’t think this was going to happen eventually. We all know that you aren’t the best at taking your pills.”

Steve nods slowly as he shrugs in agreement, “He’s got a point.”

You cut your eyes towards them and set your lips in a hard line as you squint, “Wow.”

“I’m just saying,” Bucky huffs as he rests his hands on his hips, “Your phone isn’t the only thing you lose track of.”

“Guys,” You whine, “You’re not taking this seriously.”

“We are taking this seriously.” Steve says as he pulls your side into his, “We love you, doll. You’re not going to go through this alone.”

“What if somebody finds out? What if this baby puts everyone in jeopardy?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky circles your waist with his arm and places a kiss to your temple, “That’s not going to happen, we won’t let that happen. Don’t you worry about that.”

“Look at Scott and Clint,” Steve shrugs, “They both have families that are perfectly healthy and safe. Fury can get us a safe house if we need one.”

“Or, I’m sure we could go to Wakanda. T’Challa loves us, “Bucky laughs softly, “Nobody would find us there.”

Steve turns you to face him and grabs your face in his hands, “We are going to be here every step of the way. You just let us do all of the worrying. You need to stay calm. Okay?”

You don’t know why, but you do feel a little better, “Okay.” You nod.

“We’ll take care of you,” Bucky says as he rests his chin on your shoulder and flattens his palm to your stomach, “Plus, Bucky Jr. is going to be the coolest kid around.”

“Bucky Jr?” Steve rolls his eyes, “That’s an awful name. Now Steven Grant Rogers II,” he nods slowly, “That is a strong name.”

Bucky scoffs as he lets you go, “You’re kidding yourself. James Buchanan is plenty solid.”

“They used to call you fucky Bucky. My kid isn’t going through that.”

“Please. The ladies called me fucky Bucky for a reason, Steve.” The two men start to walk off, before Bucky turns back to face you, “Babe, please get back on the jet, okay? We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“I can still help.” You huff.

They both point in unison towards the front entrance, “Quinjet. Now.” Steve orders.

You roll your eyes and turn, mumbling as you head back out towards the stealth jet. You turn on your heel just as you reach the door, “Don’t think you can start bossing me around, either! I ain’t got no time for that shit!”

“Get your ass on that jet!” You hear Bucky shout back, “Before I put you there!”

“Whatever.” You mumble as you walk your ass right back to the jet.

-------

You hold your sweet little bundle of joy in your hands, a silly smile on your face as Bucky and Steve huddle around you. Steve sniffs back tears as Bucky rubs the hours old baby’s cheek as she suckles on your breast.

“She has your eyes, bud.” Bucky says softly as he glances over at Steve.

Steve shrugs, “Nah, that’s all you. Look at that nose.”

“Don’t fight, boys.” You smile, not able to take your eyes off of her, “She’s perfect, and she looks like me anyway.”

“She is.” Bucky answers, grabbing her little hand in his to rub the back of her hand, “And she does.”

“She absolutely is. You did good, babe.” Steve whispers, kissing your cheek.

You smile widely as you finally tear your eyes from her to look up at your six foot one, two hundred pound ball of emotion, “I love you guys,” You whisper, tossing your eyes to Bucky, “I couldn’t have done this without you two.”

They both press their noses into your hair and kiss your head before they do their best to envelope you and the precious little cargo in their arms, “We need a name for her. I don’t think Bucky Jr. or Steven Grant Rogers II is going to work.” You laugh.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Bucky starts, “What about Sarah Rebecca Barnes-Rogers? For my sister and Steve’s mom.”

“Awww,” You coo, cupping his chin in your palm, “I love that.”

“I like it too,” Steve nods, “But I think Rogers-Barnes sounds better.”

Bucky scrunches his face, “No it doesn’t.”

“It kinda does, yeah.” Steve counters, shrugging slightly.

“Not really, no. Barnes-Rogers flows a lot better than Rogers-Barnes.”

“Bucky-” Steve sighs.

“Steve.”

You roll your eyes as they start to argue again, shaking your head before you place your lips to the little girl’s head, “Thank God you’re here.” You whisper to her, “I’m gonna need all the help I can get with these two, baby girl.”

“Rogers-Barnes.” Steve huffs.

“Barnes-Rogers.” Bucky counters quickly, shrugging defiantly.

You sigh happily as they go back and forth behind you, neither one knowing that little Sarah Rebecca will be taking your last name. It’s not 1950 anymore; you ain’t got no time for that bullshit.

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

Enough is Enough

Steve Rogers x Reader

Chapter Summary: Dating Steve Rogers isn’t as easy as it may seem.

Warning: Angst, Swear words.

A/N: I am on fire! Another late (I’m sorry) challenger, this time for the amazing @captain-kelli​ and her “Stories about strong women” challenge <3 My propmt was: I am not the girl the guy gets at the end of the movie. I am not a fantasy. If you want me, earn me! Until then, we are done.

AN 2: Decided to re-write it a bit, hope you like it ;) 

GIF not mine! <3

You weren’t the jealous type. Not the sort who simmered in resentment or let petty slights fester. No, you prided yourself on fairness—always striving to hear both sides of a story before letting anger cloud your judgment. And in truth, it rarely did. You were, by nature, a calm person, one who preferred diplomacy over drama, whether at work or in your private life.

Your friends admired your patience. Your family leaned on it. And to those closest to you, you hoped it was obvious—how much you cared. All you ever asked in return was proof of their affection, no grand declarations required. Just small gestures, little signs to show they noticed you, cherished you. A cup of coffee brought unexpectedly, a lingering touch. That was enough.

When Steve Rogers asked you out, you weren’t entirely sure if he meant it. The idea seemed absurd. You—a humble coffee shop owner with ink-stained fingers and a penchant for old books—and him, a living legend, the man out of time. But then he smiled, shy and boyish in a way that made you want to bottle the moment. “Maybe I could make you coffee sometime,” he’d said, his voice low, almost nervous.

You couldn’t help but grin. “You? Making me coffee?”

“Well,” he stammered, his cheeks coloring. “Only if you don’t mind teaching me.”

You laughed, light and easy, before agreeing. How could you not? The idea of Steve Rogers fumbling with a French press was too endearing to resist.

Your first date felt like stepping into a romance novel. Steve had the manners of a man from the 1940s—opening doors, pulling out chairs, hanging on your every word as though you were unveiling some great mystery of the universe. He even brought flowers. He was nervous too, though he did his best to hide it, and that only made him more charming. When he asked if he could see you again, his voice trembling ever so slightly, you didn’t hesitate.

A year later, you still remembered that first date with a kind of wistful fondness. The first six months together had been everything you could have hoped for. Steve was as attentive as he was affectionate, the kind of partner who made you breakfast when you stayed the night and always seemed to know when you needed a warm embrace. You, in turn, found joy in cooking him dinner, in creating a space where he could relax and simply be.

Sure, you had your arguments. Everyone does. But you were both mature enough to work through them, to let love outweigh pride. And sometimes, those fights led to the kind of reconciliation that left your pulse racing and your cheeks flushed.

For all his buttoned-up charm, Steve Rogers knew how to unravel you. He wasn’t the bland, vanilla figure people assumed he might be. Oh no. Behind closed doors, he was every bit as commanding as you’d secretly hoped. He knew how to make you beg, how to tease until you were trembling. And the way he’d smirk afterward, that wicked glint in his blue eyes—it was enough to make your knees weak.

Yes, Steve Rogers was amazing. Until he wasn’t.

Something changed after the six-month mark. The shift was subtle at first, like a hairline crack in glass, but it grew. It happened about a month after his birthday. You’d gone out of your way to make the day special—baking his favorite apple pie from scratch and renting old movies you figured he might have seen in his youth. He’d smiled that boyish smile, kissed you sweetly, and the day ended with whispered promises in the quiet glow of candlelight.

But then, the distance crept in. Slowly, insidiously.

He started coming home less often after missions, sending terse texts about how tired he was. When he did show up, it was like the Steve you’d known was only half-there. The conversations that once flowed so naturally became stilted, reduced to logistics and small talk. The dreams you’d shared—the cozy house in Brooklyn, the life you’d imagined together—now felt like relics of a different time.

And when he touched you, it wasn’t with the same tenderness. It felt mechanical, as though he were working through some unspoken frustration. What once felt like love now felt… hollow. Forced.

You couldn’t help but wonder: Was it you? Had you done something wrong? Or was this just who Steve Rogers really was—underneath the charm, the heroics, the pedestal everyone placed him on?

Whatever it was, you could feel the fabric of your relationship unraveling. And no matter how tightly you tried to hold on, the threads kept slipping through your fingers.

The question haunted you: What did I do wrong? You replayed every moment, every conversation, every fleeting glance, trying to pinpoint the moment Steve began slipping away. Was it something you said? Something you didn’t say? The thought consumed you, gnawing at the edges of your mind like an unresolved chord in a sad song.

You loved him. You needed him. Him, and the warmth of his love.

It was during one of your lunch breaks, after yet another restless night of overthinking, that you finally spilled your thoughts to your coworker. She’d become your unwitting confidant, listening patiently as you unraveled in a stream of anxious monologues.

“I just don’t understand,” you said, the words tumbling out faster than you could stop them. “Why is he pulling away? He used to be so… present, you know? And now it’s like he’s not even there. Like I don’t even matter anymore.”

Your coworker, a practical woman with a knack for cutting through emotional clutter, took a long sip of her coffee before answering. “He got used to you,” she said simply, her tone more matter-of-fact than comforting.

Her words stung. “What does that even mean?”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s Captain America or some guy working nine-to-five,” she continued, setting her mug down. “He’s still a man. And men… men get used to things. To having you there, to you being part of their lives. After a while, they stop trying because they don’t think they have to anymore.”

You felt the air leave your lungs, the weight of her words settling like lead in your chest. “So, what? He got tired of me?”

“No, sweetheart.” She laughed softly, her eyes kind despite the bluntness of her tone. “Not tired. Just… comfortable. He doesn’t think he has to try anymore because he’s got you. You’re there. You’re his. And that’s enough for him—at least, for now.”

The truth in her words froze you in place. You wanted to argue, to tell her that Steve wasn’t like that, that your Steve Rogers wasn’t some man who took things for granted. But deep down, a part of you—a part you hated—couldn’t entirely disagree.

She reached across the table, patting your hand with a warm smile. “Enough about him. It’s your birthday. How about we go out tonight? Have some drinks, celebrate you for a change?”

You mustered a smile, though it felt hollow. “Thanks, but Steve’s supposed to get off work early tonight. I think… I think he’s planning something.”

Her smile faltered, just for a moment, before she recovered. “Alright. But if he doesn’t, call me. We’ll go dancing, and I’ll make sure you forget all about Captain America for a night.”

You nodded, grateful for her warmth even as your heart weighed heavy with doubt. As you returned to work, her words lingered, circling your mind like a storm.

He got used to you.

You hated how much sense it made.

***

The day had been relentless. The coffee shop was bustling from open to close, and by the time you flagged down a cab, exhaustion clung to you like a second skin. All you wanted was to go home, sink into a warm bath, and lose yourself in the quiet comfort of a book. But more than anything, you wanted to see Steve.

It wasn’t a grand hope—you weren’t expecting flowers or a candlelit dinner. Just him. Just the two of you sharing the kind of quiet moments you’d been missing for so long. The thought of it carried you through the ride home, your fatigue momentarily replaced by excitement.

When the cab pulled up to your building, you tossed the driver some cash and practically ran to the door. Your heart was beating faster, your chest alight with the kind of hopeful anticipation that only love could conjure.

But the moment you stepped inside, that light flickered and dimmed.

The house was dark. Quiet.

“Steve?” you called, your voice bouncing hollowly off the walls. You stepped further in, flicking on a light, your heart sinking with each empty room you passed.

Nothing. No footsteps, no warm smile waiting for you, no arms to pull you into a hug.

It was just you. Alone with the cruel echo of your friend’s words: He got used to you.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you swallowed them back, refusing to break. Not tonight. Not on your birthday. Your trembling hands pulled out your phone, desperate for a message, a call, something—but the screen stared back blankly. Steve’s name wasn’t there. No “Happy Birthday,” no “Running late,” no anything.

There were texts from others—his friends, your coworkers—but not from him. Never from him.

You stood there for a moment, holding your breath as if that might somehow hold back the flood of hurt. And then, slowly, you did what you’d been dreaming about all day. You lit some candles, poured yourself a glass of wine, drew a bath, and settled in with a book.

You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry. Not tonight. Not for him. This was your birthday, and no man—not even one you’d given your heart to—was going to ruin it.

***

Steve was tired. Bone-deep, soul-weary tired.

He was supposed to leave early that evening, to finally have a moment to breathe after months of relentless missions and paperwork. But when a group of rookies botched their reports, it fell on him to clean up their mess. Now it was well past midnight, and the only thing he wanted was a hot shower and his bed.

“Captain Rogers, have a good night,” the AI announced as the building’s doors slid shut behind him. Steve glanced at his phone and winced at the time. No chance he was coming in tomorrow—not if he wanted to keep what little sanity he had left.

“What the hell are you doing here, punk?”

The voice startled him, and he turned to see Bucky stepping out of the gym, towel slung over his shoulder. His best friend had made a habit of using the compound’s facilities late at night when no one else was around.

“Finished those stupid reports,” Steve grumbled. “Gonna grab a shower and hit the hay.”

Bucky’s expression shifted, surprise flickering across his face. “What?” Steve asked, his brow furrowing.

“Please tell me you remembered.”

Steve’s stomach twisted at the tone in Bucky’s voice. “Remembered what?”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening, saying your name, “It’s her birthday. Today. Well… for the next three minutes, anyway.”

The words hit Steve like a punch to the gut. He froze, his brain scrambling to process them. Her birthday. He’d forgotten.

Completely, utterly forgotten.

“Shit,” he muttered, pulling out his phone to double-check the date. The sight of it confirmed what Bucky had said, and he cursed again under his breath.

“Jesus, Steve,” Bucky hissed, his voice low but laced with anger. “She was already feeling left behind because of how you’ve been acting.”

Steve’s head snapped up. “What? Feeling left behind? What are you talking about?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “You think she doesn’t talk to me? You think I don’t notice? She’s been bending over backward to make this work while you’re too busy treating her like she’s part of the furniture.”

Steve’s jaw tightened, shame coiling in his chest. He hadn’t realized. He hadn’t meant to make you feel that way.

“She loves you, man,” Bucky continued, his voice softer now but no less serious. “But if you keep this up, you’re gonna lose her. And trust me, you don’t want to do that.”

Steve didn’t need to hear anything more. He turned on his heel, heading straight for his bike. Every muscle in his body screamed with exhaustion, but it didn’t matter. He had to see you. Had to fix this.

Because no matter how tired he was, no matter how tangled his life had become, there was one thing he couldn’t afford to lose.

You.

***

The sharp rattle of the door startled you. You jumped, the noise breaking through the delicate cocoon of your bath’s fading warmth. Your heart thudded, instinctively recognizing who it was even before his voice followed.

“Baby, please open up!”

Steve’s voice was raw, strained with emotion. He sounded scared, broken even, but also so very tired. For a brief moment, your heart wavered, urging you to unlock the door, to console him as you always had. But the anger inside you surged back with a vengeance. No. Not this time.

“Sweetheart, it’s after midnight,” he continued, his voice rising with desperation. “You don’t want me waking your neighbors, right?”

“Go away, Steve!” you yelled back, hating how your voice trembled, how it betrayed the fragile strength you were trying so hard to hold onto.

“I know you’re angry… baby, I know,” he said softly.

That did it. The words, the tone, the assumption that he understood—it ignited something inside you. You strode to the door, throwing it open with a force that startled even him. He stood there, his face shadowed by guilt, exhaustion etched into every line. His eyes, so soft and full of hurt, searched yours.

“You have no fucking clue!” you shouted, your voice slicing through the silence of the night. The neighbors be damned. “So don’t you dare stand there and tell me you do!”

You didn’t wait for his response, turning away sharply to face the window. You couldn’t look at him, not with all that pain boiling inside you. Your hands gripped the windowsill as you tried to steady your breathing, your words spilling out like a dam breaking.

“Tell me, Steve. What did I do? What did I do for you to treat me like this?” you demanded, your voice cracking as the anger gave way to the hurt buried beneath it. “Jesus, Steve! Are you just used to me? Is that it?”

“What? No—”

“Was I just too boring? Did I stop being enough?” you interrupted, spinning around to face him. “I get that your job is important, Steve. I get that. I always have. But you promised me—so many times—you promised this wouldn’t happen. That you wouldn’t let it come between us. And yet here we are.”

His mouth opened as if to speak, but no words came.

“For six months now,” you continued, your voice trembling with the weight of suppressed tears, “I’ve been here. Waiting. Wondering. And all I’ve been to you is someone to feed you, to listen to you, to deal with your shit, and—what?—to help you ‘relieve stress’ when it suits you?”

“Please, stop,” Steve pleaded, his voice breaking. He stepped closer, but you stepped back, refusing to let him close the distance.

“I am so sorry,” he said finally, his tone desperate. “I never thought… I never realized this is how you’ve been feeling.” He took a breath, his hand running through his hair in frustration. “I’ve been a mess. This job… it’s been killing me inside, and I didn’t even see what I was doing to you. I’m so sorry for breaking my promise, for being so distant. But I swear, I never meant to make you feel this way.”

His words hit like a blow, but they weren’t enough. Not anymore.

“It was my birthday today, Steve.”

The way his face fell, the sharp flinch that wracked his body—it was all the confirmation you needed.

“Oh God,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “You forgot.”

“Baby, please…” he started, his hands reaching for you.

“No,” you snapped, stepping out of his reach. “Don’t call me that. Don’t—just don’t.” You looked him square in the eyes, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilling over. “I can’t do this anymore, Steve. I just can’t. I told you about my insecurities. We talked about this—us—and you promised. And yet, here we are.”

“Sweetheart, don’t,” he begged, his voice cracking under the weight of his own emotions.

“No!” you shouted, the word bursting from you with a finality that made him freeze. “I don’t know if you’ve just stopped caring, or if you’re too busy to even notice what this has done to me. But right here, right now, I’m done. I’ve had enough, Steve. Enough of loving you without feeling loved back. Enough of sleepless nights wondering what I did wrong. If you want me… if you really want me, then you’re going to have to earn me. Because until then, we are done.”

You saw the tears welling in his eyes, saw the way his shoulders slumped under the weight of your words.

“No,” he said softly, shaking his head. “No, we’re not done. I’m not letting you go.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” you said, your voice quieter now but no less firm. “If you want me, you’ll have to prove it. Until then, I’m done waiting.”

“I’m not leaving,” he said, stepping forward as if sheer determination could fix what was broken between you.

“Fine,” you replied, brushing past him. “Then I will.”

You grabbed your coat, your movements sharp and decisive as you made your way to the door. “Just… close it behind you,” you said, your voice heavy with finality.

And with that, you walked out, leaving behind the man you’d once believed would be your forever.

[ussgallifrey]

Truth Hurts

✦ Summary: Why are men great till they gotta be great? Steve Rogers was great, until he decided to do a solo trip to return the time stones. ✦ Pairings: Steve Rogers x Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Female Reader ✦ Warnings: Endgame Steve bashing, little bit of angst, language ✦ Word Count: 1.3k ✦ Author’s Note: Written for @captain-kelli​'s 500 follower challenge with the prompt - "Truth Hurts" by Lizzo. Version 2.0 here

Bucky cautiously approaches the bench as the sun glitters off the lakeshore, a hesitancy to his posture and words. Hands stuffed into his coat pockets as he breathes out slowly, feeling the weight of the afternoon settling. You can feel the concern literally rolling off him.

"You okay?"

Okay?

Was that even a possibility in this moment?

That feeling must have disappeared sometime between thinking the love of your life was lost in the quantum realm and seeing the aged man with a wedding ring only moments later. Okay died there, buried in the wrinkles and graying hair of an apparent stranger.

Because whoever this man was, claiming to be Steven Rogers, he was heartless. Absolutely devastatingly heartless. As he smiled and handed the title over to Sam and barely spared you or Bucky a second glance. You watched the future that never was walk away from view.

There's a sharp cut in your throat as you force the tears down, turning to your companion with a smile, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm great."

Dating Captain America was a fantasy. An unbelievable how is this actually happening to me fantasy. Lost in the warmth of blue eyes and a shy smile, golden hair and a sarcastic wit that slid through the cracks of the statuesque all-American icon. He was too good to be true and he wanted you. That was the craziest part about it. He. Wanted. You.

Oblivious to the heated glances and the sudden presence of super-soldier whenever you entered a public place in the tower. He found a reason to brush past in the kitchen, to station himself near you in the gym, and so on.

It took one failing mission for it all to come blazing to a tumultuous head. Pressed against each other in the walk-in freezer of a swanky hotel to evade the wannabe supervillain's henchmen. Happening in slow motion and lightspeed all at once as lips connected with something similar to Thor's lightning.

From there, it was just the rolling thunder that led to the storm. The supposed shy and timid man from a different time had no control when it came to you. And he was damn near intoxicating - a personal drug fully at your disposal.

It was good. So damn good.

And then the Accords hit. And then he was on the run. And then Wakanda. And then waking up in a jungle with Bucky and Sam and having no idea what had transpired since the battle.

It was good.

Was.

And then he left without a real goodbye because he was supposed to be right back. But he didn't come back, not really.

Boys hadn't been a strong point in your history, so the fact that Mr. Golden Boy was hanging onto your every word, unfortunately, let your guard finally slip. The purposefully placed blocks that made up the wall around your heart were slowly and deliberately broken down over the years as your relationship blossomed.

And it came to bite you right in the ass, didn't it?

Stupid stupid girl should've known better. Who could compare with his original sweetheart and the man had a damn time machine at his disposal? Did you really think he'd stay with you?

It's been two weeks and you still can't wrap your head around it.

Bucky wordlessly passes his container of Lo Mein your way with a barely suppressed frown on his face.

Steve used to destroy the punching bags in the gym until he had the chance to take his aggression out on a literal God, a suit of armor, and his serum-enhanced best friend. The punching bag doesn't fly off the hook with each jab you deliver, but you still like to pretend it's his dumb puppy dog face anyway. 

You're honestly the best, you know that?

The tape around your fingers strains and tears as you focus on the middle of the bag.

God, I love you.

Liar liar liar. Stupid stupid girl, falling for such a liar.

This is it for me, sweetheart. You're all I need.

Noble bastard with the heart of gold and winning smile and dumb dumb hair. 

Collapsing on the mat, angry tears fall as you quickly unwrap your knuckles. Angry at yourself for the breakdown, angrier at him for… well… everything else.

Bucky cleans up the cuts and bruises, holds an ice pack down with a soft apology on his lips. You're not sure if it's for the ice or what his idiot best friend did to your heart. You don't ask.

You wake to the fading sensation of his arms around your waist, only to be faced with the reality of an empty bed. 

A part of you still held out hope - disgusting hope - that he would return. That it was just a fluke of time travel. But the days passed and no one ever appeared outside your door to kiss away the aches and pains of a broken heart.

You ignore the unread messages on your phone, finding solace under the covers of a too-big bed.

It's only after a restless night, when you're faced with your reflection in the mirror, that a little bell goes off in your head.

I need a change.

Was it a universal desire to chop off all your hair after a broken heart? Or was it just a cliche that fell in line with crying at romcoms and eating actual tubs of ice cream?

Either way, you clean up and make an appointment with your salon.

It feels amazing.

Having someone else shampoo your head is at the top of the list for best touches ever - especially after becoming a touch-starved hermit for longer than you'd like to admit. And you felt like a big change, so you go for a totally out of the box color while you're at it.

One that the girlfriend of image-heavy Captain America would never have.

And then a pedicure. And manicure. And champagne and when was the last time you did even the smallest bit of self-care? That shit needs to change. Now.

It's more therapeutic than any session could ever hope to be.

You laugh when Bucky does a double-take in the kitchen. Having walked right past you, only to slowly back up and ogle your new hair.

"It looks good."

There's a hint of relief that floods your senses to know it doesn't look like a crazy mess.

"Suits you," he offers, seemingly transfixed on the new hues framing your face.

The triumph of taking down the Winter Soldier, even if he may have been going a little easy on you, is a blast of adrenaline. Bouncing up on the mat with an exuberant whoop! You feel invincible.

Bucky just chuckles as he sits up.

"Not bad, sweetheart."

There's a hint of a familiar phrase that has you doing a slow turn. He's already moving back over to his bag to swig some water. But it doesn't sting, doesn't pull a sour taste in your mouth at the thought of the other guy who used to call you all the pet names. Maybe it was just a slip of the hundred-year-old tongue. 

You were never great at catching onto obvious flirtations anyway.

"Think you're up for another round?" a hint of nerves threading around your voice.

Bucky watches carefully for one long moment, setting his water bottle down and wiping his mouth with his arm.

"Sure, darlin'."

He stalks back to the mat, keeping a good distance between you as he watches you sizing him up.

"Think you can handle this, Barnes?"

You watch the lazy smirk tugging at his lips while feeling a burst of confidence radiating from your body. It felt good, like things were actually turning in your favor - the storm cloud was dissipating. Maybe it was finally time to focus on you.

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[sunlightdances]

Public Relations (Bucky x Reader Oneshot)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Prompt: “I’m a woman with a brain and reasonable ability” Author’s Note: Written for @captain-kelli​’s 500 Fam Writing Challenge! Congrats, Kelli, and thank you for hosting! Takes place post-Endgame, but with some adjustments to canon (Tony and Nat are alive, Steve stayed). This has a lot more dialogue than I initially planned! Hope it’s not too choppy. My love of commas is also evident in this piece. *shrug emoji* Disclaimer: I don’t own Bucky, Marvel, or any other related characters or events. The other details of the plot are mine, including the characterization of the “reader”. Please don’t post my work on any other sites without my permission! If you liked what you read, please consider reblogging to help my work be seen. I would love you forever!

Let’s clear one thing up straight away: Bucky Barnes is not an asshole. He has a chip on his shoulder, sure, and it’s also true that he can be grumpy from time to time.

But can you blame him, really?

His life after age 26 has been one giant shit show that he’s just starting to get back on track, so he thinks the world at large could forgive him if he’s not super nice to the reporter hanging around outside the coffee shop or if his resting face sometimes looks like he wants to punch someone.

Still - he’s working on it. Trying to appear a little softer around the edges, trying to remember how to be the person he once was, not because he thinks it’s healthy to try to go back to that time, but because that’s the last time he actually remembers liking himself.

But, again, he’s not an asshole. Or, he tries really hard not to be. A fact he has to keep reminding his friends of (and he uses that word loosely, sometimes), especially when you’re around.

Everything just comes out of his mouth wrong when you’re there.

Probably because you’re around all the time, and you’re smart, and funny, and pretty, and-- nope. He’s not going there. Because reminding himself all the reasons why he likes you just makes him feel more guilty about the way he acts around you. He’s just too chickenshit to admit that he likes you, and ends up being a dick.

As soon as he walks into the Tower, you’re there.

After Thanos, the Avengers returned to New York City. There’s not much left of the Compound upstate to live in right now until the rebuild is done, and he’d been thinking about Brooklyn anyway. Manhattan is different, but he feels better in the city. He thinks the rest of the team likes it here too - it reminds them of the old days, or whatever.

“Sergeant Barnes,” you greet him coolly, matching his stride as he heads towards the elevator. “There’s a meeting in fifteen minutes in the main conference room.”

Bucky makes a noise of acknowledgement, stepping into the elevator and hitting the button for the tenth floor. “Do I have a choice to attend?”

“No you do not.”

“Great.”

He thinks you’re trying not to smile. He grinds his teeth.

“Good afternoon, Sergeant Barnes,” FRIDAY’s voice comes through the overhead speaker. “Captain Rogers requests that you, and I quote, don’t even think about it.”

You snort, and Bucky rolls his eyes. “Punk,” he whispers. “Thanks, FRIDAY. Tell Captain Rogers I said, and I quote, to shove it--”

“Thanks, FRIDAY,” you interrupt, “Thank you so much.”

The few remaining minutes in the elevator are in silence, and you push your way out of the elevator before he can even take a step when it stops. Bucky follows you reluctantly to the conference room where some of the rest of the team is waiting.

Nat looks barely awake (she has trouble sleeping after literally coming back from the dead when Steve returned the stones, what a shocker), Sam is spinning in his chair, and Steve is patiently listening to Peter prattle on about some project he’s working on for biology.

“We’re just waiting on Tony, Bruce, and Scott,” you say, heading towards the head of the table. “Wanda is on a mission with Clint, and Thor is off world. No word from Carol in a few days, either.”

Steve waves you off. “Don’t worry about it. We can fill them in later.”

Bucky’s brow furrows. “Wait, this is your meeting?” He asks you. “What was the point of the AI-assisted lecture from you--” he pointedly glares at Steve.

“Because I knew you’d try to get out of it, so I asked for some help.” You smile sweetly at him.

The rest of the team files in over the next few minutes, and Bucky watches as you shuffle through a few papers before turning on the overhead projector. He has to admit, while he absolutely despises public relations, he has a lot of respect for what you do.

He knows it’s not easy wrangling Tony’s ambitions plus whatever manic situations the team get themselves in on a daily basis. Trying to do press for the Avengers is probably akin to wrangling cats, he supposes.

“So,” you clap your hands together, “the event at Children’s Hospital is in two weeks. Can we please, please avoid any earth-threatening situations that might take precedence over this? We missed it the last few years, obviously, so we need to get out there and make some kids happy.”

A murmured agreement goes throughout the room, and Bucky tips back in his chair, counting down the minutes until he can go literally anywhere else. It’s not you, really. It’s the idea of public appearances. He hates them. People still think of him based on who he was, not who he is now. Despite the fact that Steve and the rest of the team have publicly vouched for him and are working on clearing his name, he sees how people look at him.

You’re tied to that feeling, even though he knows that isn’t fair. He has a hard time separating you from your job.

“The next thing -- and I don’t want to hear about it --” You look around, eyes landing on him meaningfully, “-- there’s a magazine feature for the anniversary of the Battle of New York.”

“Well, that’s me off the hook,” Bucky says flippantly, grinning smugly at Sam, who high fives him.

“No, it absolutely doesn’t,” you argue.

“I wasn’t there, in case you forgot.”

You glare. “Thank you for the reminder.”

“Guys--” Steve tries to interrupt.

“You have to participate, because this article is about the team and how it’s grown since the inception of the Avengers.” You say, almost sounding bored. Probably because you and Bucky have this argument at least once a week.

“Bucky, it’s an hour.” Steve says gently, trying to barter.

“Whatever.” Bucky grumbles, “You know what they’re going to ask,” he says, suddenly angry. “Where was the elusive Winter Soldier during the Battle of New York? Do I remember it happening, or was I in the middle of being frozen or wiped for the thousandth time?”

You shift your weight, looking down at the floor. He feels guilty for a half second. “I won’t let them ask.”

His heart thuds weirdly in his chest at how earnest you sound, but he just can’t help himself, apparently. “Because you’re so sure they’re going to listen to you.”

Hurt flashes across your face so quickly he thinks he’s imagined it, but he knows he hasn’t. Again - he’s not usually an asshole. He still hates himself for it, though.

“Alright, we’re done here.” You say quietly, gathering your paperwork. “I’ll email you all the details.”

Sam elbows him, and across the table, Steve is giving Bucky a look that he’s come to associate with a lecture.

He sighs and rolls his eyes before getting up and heading out of the room, his friends at his heels.

“Wow, a five minute meeting,” Sam is saying, sarcastically. “Gotta be a new record, don’t you think, Rogers?”

Bucky’s new plan is to ignore Sam at all costs. It’s not a plan he thinks is going to work out in his favor, but it’s what he’s sticking with.

“You can’t ignore me forever.”

“Are you a mind reader?” Bucky asks, hitting the button in the elevator for the residential floors.

“It’s two events, Buck.” Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can handle it.”

“Yeah? Why don’t I let you field the questions I normally get, and we’ll see how you like it.”

“I’m not doubting you. I just don’t understand why you always have to take it out on her.” Steve’s voice is so disappointed, Bucky almost wants to laugh. When his best friend turned into such a mother hen, he’ll never know.

“Don’t be late!” Sam calls as Bucky gets off on his floor, leaving the other men in the elevator.

Flipping him off over his shoulder, he hears Sam’s chuckle and Steve’s sigh before the doors close, and finally he’s alone with his thoughts.

.

.

.

Turns out the interview happens before the hospital visit.

Bucky is in an uncomfortable chair, a reporter across from him, and you behind the reporter, fidgeting slightly. He feels almost relieved that you seem to be as nervous as he is.

“Mr. Barnes,” the reporter begins, a smile Bucky already hates on his face.

“It’s Sergeant.” You say quietly from behind him, and Bucky meets your eyes briefly, seeing the resolve there.

“Of course.” The reporter says smoothly, offering another smile to Bucky. “Sergeant Barnes, you weren’t in New York for the Chitauri invasion, were you.”

“No.”

If the reporter thought he’d elaborate, he doesn’t let on. Bucky saw these questions coming a mile away, and isn’t going to give anyone the satisfaction of saying something he’ll regret. Well, he won’t regret it. But it’ll be a pain in the ass for everyone if he can’t keep his cool.

“This was the first official Avengers event. Do you remember hearing about it?”

Bucky wants to laugh. “Do I remember-- no. I don’t think I was awake for much of 2012.” You fidget again, shifting your weight, and Bucky sighs, grinding his teeth. “I’ve been fully briefed on the invasion and know that what the Avengers did that day saved the world.”

The reporter looks at him for a long moment before shifting the papers on his lap around a bit. “The Avengers have changed a lot in all those years since that first mission. Can you tell me a bit more about your role with the team?”

Bucky relaxes a bit. This is the part he prepped for, the part he could recite in his sleep if he had to. Whatever instinct he had back in the day that allowed him to lead a unit and report to his CO is still there, especially for questions like this. “I work mainly with Captain Rogers and Sam Wilson to coordinate missions and do strategic planning. Recon and research are my main areas of focus, but I go on missions too if needed as backup, or if it’s an all hands on deck situation.”

“So you’re not handling any weapons?”

Bucky blinks. Over the reporter’s shoulder, you frown.

“All Avengers team members undergo weapons training.”

“During the War, you were a sniper with the 107th, correct?”

“Yes.”

“So you’d say that you’re pretty proficient with a gun?”

Your eyes are flashing now. “I’m sorry - none of this was on the list of pre-approved questions.” You interrupt, and the reporter holds up a hand to stop you, causing you to make an affronted face.

Bucky would laugh if he wasn’t feeling so sick at this turn of questioning. Every time. No matter who they vet, no matter how many times reporters insist they aren’t trying to catch him in a question he can’t or doesn’t want to answer… this is why he hates interviews.

“I’m just saying -- you’re one of the world’s most accomplished assassins. I guess I wanted to know why you’re doing research and recon when you could be on the front lines with the team? Are they worried you’ll have a setback?”

Bucky barks out a laugh.

You start, taking a few steps forward. “That’s enough. We’re done here.”

Bucky’s already standing, pulling out the chair from behind him as you come around to follow him out, until the reporter stops you, a hand firm on your elbow. You freeze, and Bucky’s eyes narrow on the point of contact, an unfamiliar feeling surging through him.

“Do you know who I work for?” The reporter hisses. “You told me I’d have a half hour.”

“That was before I knew you were going to ask questions that have nothing to do with your article.” You reply, face darkening when he still hasn’t let go.

Bucky waits, waits for one more sign that you’re uncomfortable before he steps in.

“If you ever want to get another high profile piece done on your team you’ll let me finish here.” He threatens, hand tightening.

You sigh, almost looking bored, and in one swift move, you’ve shifted enough of your weight to turn, pulled the elbow he was holding out of his grasp, and driven it into his ribs, simultaneously kneeing him in the groin.

Bucky’s eyebrows raise, and you look at him, rolling your eyes. “What?”

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” he says, letting a smile slip out so you know he’s kidding.

The reporter is doubled over, still making threats, but neither of you pay him much attention as you walk out the double doors of the conference room in the unfamiliar magazine office, heading towards the lobby.

In the car that’s waiting for you outside, Bucky watches you carefully as you roll your shoulders a bit, clearly smarting from the move you pulled back there.

“If I would have known you could do that, I would have been a little nicer,” he teases, but there’s an undercurrent of truth to his words. Not that he thought he’d ever piss you off enough for you to hurt him, but that he wishes he was nicer to you in general.

You glance at him, face neutral. “It wasn’t that hard. Everyone who works for the Avengers goes through basic self defense training, and I’m a woman with a brain and reasonable ability.”

Bucky nods. “Still. Thank you, by the way, for putting an end to that.”

You sigh, sitting back in your seat, all the fight leaving you. “It’s nothing.” You dig your phone out of your pocket and he watches as your thumbs fly across the screen before you hold it to your ear. “Hi, Steve.” A pause, “No, that’s cancelled. You’re not doing it. Tell Tony I’m cancelling the rest of the interviews. We’ll find some other place to get it published.”

He knows he’s staring and he knows he should stop before you notice, but he just… can’t take his eyes off you. The way you stood up for him, the way you promised him you would even when he was being a total asshole… he has no idea what he did to deserve it, but he’s damn grateful.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, your tone softer than he’s ever heard it.”

He shakes his head, looking down at his feet. “No reason. Just-- sorry I’m such a dick sometimes.”

You laugh, and he immediately wants to hear it again.

“I mean it,” he continues, “I don’t mean to be. You don’t deserve it.”

“Bucky.” Your voice is even softer, quiet, and he struggles to think if you’ve ever called him by his name before. You wait until he meets your eyes. “It’s fine. We’re all-- just trying to get through this.” You shrug. “I know it’s not easy for you. Just… Trust me sometimes, will you?”

“I do trust you.” He replies immediately, absolutely sure of himself for once.

It’s your turn to be a little surprised.

He rubs his hands together, a nervous tick he’s never gotten rid of. “I’ve been trying to distance myself because I like you. And that honestly scares the shit out of me. I don’t know--” He stops, frustrated. “I don’t know how to do this anymore. And all I keep thinking about is what could go wrong.” He takes a chance and glances up at you, and the look in your eyes… it’s more than he expected. He feels his heart take off in his chest.

“We’re both so stupid, Bucky.” You tell him, but your words are light. “You should have said something.”

He rolls his eyes. “People always say that. But when has a conversation like this one ever been one that someone wants to have?”

“Maybe when the other person feels the same way?”

Bucky can’t breathe. He never even considered it. It was always a forgone conclusion in his mind. He thinks you’re beautiful, and you never think about him at all. That was always the truth that he thought he knew. “Go out with me.” He blurts, and then feels his face redden. “I mean-- let me-- will you let me take you to dinner?”

The car stops in front of the tower and you’re opening the door before you say anything, making him panic a little. A look over your shoulder, “I’ll see if I can pencil you in somewhere.” You say, and then with a wink, you’re gone, leaving him scrambling to get out of the car to catch up to you.

Before you can, Steve is there, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Not now--”

“Can’t help it. She called a meeting.”

Bucky stops in his tracks, and laughs. “Did she.”

“She must know how much you love them. Come on.”

Upstairs he finds his usual seat next to Sam and across from Steve, but when you gather your notes and meet his eyes, yours absolutely sparkling, he finds he’s not dreading this one at all. He still wants to take you to dinner though, so he might have to try to break his own record.

A 5 minute meeting so he can convince you to go on a date with him? He thinks he can swing it.

End

[captain-kelli]

When I started this challenge, all I knew is that I wanted to see more strong women in fanfiction - whatever that happened to look like. 

Y’all. These writers delivered. Their characters are complex and capable and fierce. I know we all love our Marvel men, but these women shine! It’s everything I ever needed. Maybe you need it, too?

Read them:

As of May 2nd, these are the stories I’ve read that have been submitted. If I’ve missed yours, shoot me a note!!

Dialogue Prompts:

“I could do it better! And in heels!”

Mother’s Love by @justlexia​ (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Women Do It Better by @sebbbystaaan​ (Sam Wilson x Reader)

“I do not need a damn man by my side to do this.”

Killer Queen by @stuckonjbbarnes​​​ (Stucky x Reader)

“If there’s one thing I’m willing to bet on, it’s myself.”

I Know My Worth by @danijimenezv​ (Clint Barton x Reader)

“Oh, screw beautiful. I’m brilliant. If you want to appease me, compliment my brain.”

It’s a Beautiful Day to Save Lives by @xetoilerouge​​​ (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

"I think you can't wait for someone to fly underneath you and save your life. I think you have to save yourself."

NYC | Far From Home by @whistlingwillows​​​ (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

“I’m a woman with a brain and reasonable ability”

Public Relations by @sunlightdances​ (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

A Drunk Mind Speaks a Sober Heart by @heartopen-testify​ (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

"Who asked you to intervene? You think you have to rescue me? You think I can’t take care of myself?”

Stronger by @tarithenurse​ (Thor x Reader)

If Three’s a Crowd, Then What Does That Make Four? by @avintagekiss24​​ (Stucky x Reader)

“I am not the girl the guy gets at the end of the movie. I am not a fantasy. If you want me, earn me! Until then, we are done.”

Someone to Love by @saiyanprincessswanie​ (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

“When the door you have been knocking at finally swings open, you don’t ask why. You run through.”

Do Better by @wintersoldierissucharide​ (Steve Rogers x Sam Wilson x Reader - platonic)

Quote Prompts:

She has been through hell. So believe me when I say, fear her when she looks into fire and smiles.

Looking Into the Fire by @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ (Thor x Reader)

The Fires of Hell by @captain-rogers-beard​ (Wanda Maximoff)

Empowered women empower women.

Sisterhood by @the-unspoken-rule​ (Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff x Reader - platonic)

There is no limit to what we, as women, can accomplish.

Mission Turn It Up in the Club by @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ (Loki x Reader)

Song Prompts:

You Don’t Own Me (Lesley Gore / SAYGRACE)

Courage and Kindness by @softhairbarnes​ (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Formation (Beyoncé)

I See It, I Want It by @allaboardthereadingrailroad​ (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Salute (Little Mix)

No Need to Fear, the Ladies Are Here by @avengerskeeper​ (Sam Wilson x Reader)

Truth Hurts (Lizzo)

Truth Hurts by @ussgallifreyfics​ (Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Nightmare (Halsey)

Did the Right Thing by @jbbuckybarnes​ (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

No Sweet Dream by @jbbarnesnnoble​ (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Fighter (Christina Aguilera)

A Smile Is Worth Fighting For by @lesqui​ (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Fighter - Kill Them All by @sirenaurelix​ (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Woman (Ke$ha)

Woman by @kellyn1604​ (Steve Rogers x Reader)

You Should See Me in a Crown (Billie Eilish)

These Fractured Places by @nacho-bucky​ (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

[danijimenezv]

I Know My Worth

Prompt: “If there’s one thing I’m willing to bet on, it’s myself.”

Pairing: Clint Barton x reader

Warnings: Sexism, misogyny, slight abuse of power, low self-esteem, confidence problems, insults and mean remarks, medical emergencies, a few gross descriptions, swear words.

Word Count: 7968 words (oops, I got a bit carried away, sorry!)

A/N: Happy late International Women’s Day to all my fellow females out there! This was my entry for @captain-kelli’s Strong Women-themed 500 Fam Writing Challenge. It’s set prior to the first Avengers movie, when S.H.I.E.L.D. was still a thing. This turned out to be personal for me because it shows my own experience at becoming a veterinary doctor, most of them are examples I had to live myself, so please be kind with it. Also, everything in here is from what I know about medicine in animals, but I can’t be completely sure it also applies to people, so excuse my mistakes!

Being a medical student wasn’t easy, that was something you learned the hard way. It was late nights, crappy eating habits and stressful situations; your time stops being your own, having to prioritize most of your life, and most times you have to give up a lot. It was a marathon, not a sprint. All of that added to the fact that the whole environment was toxic, where egos clashed constantly, everything turned into a competition and asking for help was seen as a weakness. Now, as if that didn’t sound awful enough, being a medical student as a female was even harder. In a man’s world, medicine was no exception to sexism. Male students were praised, while female students were constantly doubted and made fun of, with remarks that ranged from their physical appearance to their capacities. For instance, girls were usually questioned about being able to take critical decisions in the ER when required, while no one ever implied that a guy was incapable of that.

Things didn’t change much once you graduated. It was difficult for most doctors to gain visibility and recognition once out of medical school, but it was even harder and more complex for women. Male doctors were constantly recognized worldwide for their feats, while female doctors mostly remained in the dark. Even as doctors, women have been known to have to fight for everyone around to take them seriously, having to work extra hard, go the extra mile, to be heard and recognized as they should.

Y/N Y/L/N was one of them. She had a love for medicine and a passion for helping people that made her great for a doctor. She had worked really hard throughout college and afterwards, which landed her a great position at the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division, as one of their field medics. The problem? She was the only woman in the medical team, and the head doctor didn’t take well to that change.

Her nightmare began the very first moment she arrived at the facility. She had just gotten there when she saw a man on the floor, and she hurried to get to his side, immediately getting into doctor mode. She dropped her bag open by her side in case she needed her instruments, and proceeded to determine what was wrong with him.

“What’s going on here?” another doctor rushed forward, ignoring the small group of people already gathering around them.

“I don’t know, he was already on the floor when I arrived.” she explained, “Pulse is weak, he’s hypotensive. He also shows signs of low blood oxygen saturation, cyanosis and acute dyspnea.”

“What else, newbie?” he demanded in a harsh tone.

Y/N examined the man one more time to see if she had overlooked an important detail, before deciding to take out her stethoscope to auscultate, “No lung expansion on his left side.”

“Bring me the bag mask.” he ordered to someone else and they rushed away.

“Could be a hemothorax.” Y/N responded confidently, “He could have an internal hemorrhage in the pleural cavity. He needs a thoracentesis right now to drain the thorax or he’ll suffocate.”

“Then get out of the way and let the real doctors do the work.”

“I have what I need here with me, you can’t afford to wait until they bring you a scalpel and a chest tube, it has to be now.”

“If you fail, this agent’s life is on you.” the doctor barked angrily.

Y/N took a scalpel out of her bag and exposed the man’s side of his ribcage. She made a clean incision and pushed the tube inside. A second later, the liquid started to drain out of the man’s chest. Slowly, the agent’s respiration began to normalize, allowing him to breathe and get some much needed oxygen into his lungs.

“Doctor Rivera, Doctor Tate, get Agent Hall ready for surgery. He won’t be stable for long.”

“Yes, boss.” the other two responded and sprung into action.

The senior doctor then turned to Y/N, “Clear liquid, obviously not a hemothorax.”

“Pleural effusion. But it was still liquid compressing the lungs and he still needed the thoracentesis, whether the liquid was bloody, purulent or clear.”

“I still don’t trust your examination because I wasn’t there to see it, but your incision was horrible. You do know you have to make the incision at the fifth intercostal space anterior to the mid axillary line, right? Not the sixth nor the fourth. And you have to make a clean cut, not slice every layer individually.”

“Wait, I’m pretty sure I did make the single cut at the fifth space.” she defended herself.

“And to top it all, you seem to have a knack for talking back to your new boss.”

That made her freeze in her place, as Y/N finally realize who she was talking to, “You’re Doctor Blaine Fowler. I’m so sorry, sir.”

“I knew we shouldn’t have admitted you in here, a girl straight out of med school, but Fury insisted. Your recommendation letters were remarkable.”

“Thank you, sir-”

“It wasn’t a compliment, those mean nothing to me. See, you might’ve been a decent enough student, but let’s get something clear, you are not a decent doctor, got it?”

It was the first low blow in a long line of insults to come, to which she simply hung her head low and muttered a soft “Sorry, sir…”

“Listen here, newbie, you have been here all of half an hour, I’ve been in charge here for longer than you’ve been studying, so don’t get any ideas. Things here are done the way I deem it correctly. And I won’t have a young, barely-doctor girl disrupting my work, okay? You work under my mandate now, be sure to behave as such.”

“Yes, sir…”

That first day was the start of a complicated work relationship that only seemed to worsen for her.

*****

A couple of months into the job, things hadn’t changed much. When she was on duty alone, things weren’t as difficult. Y/N could make the decisions she thought right with no one criticizing her every move, without her boss breathing down her neck, waiting for her to make a mistake. However, Fowler was still her boss, which meant he controlled what procedures she could be included in, which weren’t many. He preferred to pick any of the other male doctors before her, and he usually had her do easy tasks, as if she wasn’t capable of doing more than that.

It happened when Fowler wasn’t around, which considerably lessened her anxiety levels. It was while she was processing a few blood samples that she heard a commotion approaching. She exited the lab just in time to see two agents practically dragging a third one. They left a blood trail on the floor while they looked around desperately.

“What happened?” Y/N made her way to them.

“Where are the real doctors?” the one on the left spoke harshly.

Translation: the male doctors.

“Shut up, asshole. She’s a real doctor.” the one in the middle, the injured one, groaned out, focusing his blue eyes on her.

Y/N had seen him around, but she had never really interacted with him before until that moment. His remark, while quite simple, still surprised her. After all, she didn’t only fight for her boss and colleagues to take her seriously, but also with some of the patients that for some reason felt safer with other doctors. She smiled at him gratefully, before examining him slowly. His dirty blonde hair was glued to his sweaty forehead, his breathing hard and labored as he clearly tried to ignore the pain, while one of his hands was pressing on his bloodied torso.

“He was near an explosion, and some of the shards hit him.” the man on the right informed, casting her an uncertain look but not quite as against her as the first man had been.

“We have to get you to a room. I’ll have to pull out the shards with tweezers and then evaluate if you need stitches and then bandage.”

“Where’s Dr. Fowler?”

“Not here. I’m the doctor on call today.”

“Think you can help me, Doc?” the guy smirked cheekily despite being in obvious pain.

“Come on.” she tried him from the other two agents, to get him to a room quickly, but the other two took a few steps away, “Agents, I need to take him in order to fix him up.”

“We’ll take him and go with you.”

“With all due respect, I work better without an audience.”

“Why? Otherwise you can’t concentrate? A few stitches that hard for you?”

“No, but just so I don’t have to listen to your idiotic comments.” Y/N snapped, getting irritated, “Agent…?”

“Barton.” the dirty blonde man offered.

“Agent Barton has to be treated quickly, and you’re not letting me do my job.”

“You heard the lady, Rodríguez.” Agent Barton said, “I’m going with her.”

“Barton, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Get your head out of your ass, Carson.” he let out a growl, “She’s the doctor here, she’s the boss. What she says, goes. It’s not that hard to understand, idiots.”

“Don’t you want to wait until another doctor arrives? Another one must be around.”

“No, I’m fine with her. And honestly, you’re lucky I’m bleeding out here on the floor, because I’d be a few seconds away from kicking your ass.”

The two agents left him with Y/N hesitantly, and it was clear they still didn’t trust she was capable of stitching him up, but Y/N didn’t stay to fight with them any longer. She wasn’t going to be able to change their minds anyway, and she was losing important seconds that she could use on her patient, so she turned around and lead Barton to the consultory. As soon as he laid down on the cot, she got to work, putting gloves on and getting everything she needed.

“Please tell me you have your tetanus vaccine up to date.”

“I think so.” Clint shrugged.

“Okay, good.”

Barton reclined back, letting his head rest tiredly, and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pain, but opened them once again when he felt her looming over him. Y/N worked silently but efficiently, having everything ready in barely a minute. She proceeded to create a tourniquet above his wound with a belt, trying to lessen the bleeding.

“Agent Barton, this might hurt.” she warned him kindly, holding the antiseptic up so he could see what she meant.

“You can call me Clint.” he tried to smile at her, but probably ended up wincing, judging by her answer.

“It’s okay, you’ll be alright soon, I promise.”

Clint hissed as soon as he felt the stinging sensation on his torso and clenched his jaw a few times. The doctor cleaned the wound, gently so she wouldn’t get any of the shards deeper than they already were, and wiped away the blood so she could see what she was dealing with.

“How much does it hurt?” she asked gently as she took the injection of lidocaine in her hand.

“A lot. I might die.”

“You won’t die, Agent Barton.” she rolled her eyes in amusement, “It doesn’t look like any of the shrapnel hit anything vital. It looks superficial. Though, I’ll conduct an ultrasound afterwards to make sure.”

“I told you, you can call me Clint.”

“Clint.” Y/N tried out the nickname and changed the subject, trying to distract him from what she was about to do, “Um, thank you, for standing up for me.”

“I shouldn’t have to. I’ve seen the way they treat you, and it’s unfair.”

“You’ve seen it? How?”

“I’m just really observant.” Clint shrugged in dismissal and looked at her seriously, “Why don’t you say anything?”

“Because it’s pointless. And if I talk back to Fowler, he’ll have me on cleaning duty instead of doing medical procedures.”

“You’ll have to face him eventually.”

“I can’t, Clint. Even if I want to, I can’t. My job is on the line.”

Y/N took the tweezers and began taking out piece by piece, starting with the smallest ones so there wouldn't be additional blood covering her view. She tugged at the shards with precise movements, trying to be as gentle as possible with him. Clint closed his eyes and waited for her to be done, prepared for the pain, though it never came.

“Fury wouldn’t let that happen.”

“Fury isn’t my boss, Fowler is. And I know Fowler answers to Fury, but Fury doesn’t usually get involved in the medical area.” she sighed, working the needle through the wounds, stitching him up, “Believe me, if there was something I could do, I already would’ve.”

“It’s not right.” he mumbled, “Doc, don’t let them walk all over you.”

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“My name is Y/N.” she smiled at him, bandaging him quickly, “Ready.”

“You’re done?!” Clint opened his blue eyes and looked at her in bewilderment, and then down at his bandaged torso, “I didn’t even feel anything.”

“Because I gave you a local anesthetic.”

“Well, that’s new.” he commented, “They usually don’t use that on us.”

“The point of an anesthetic is to reduce the patient’s pain.” Y/N said obviously, “If I can help with that, then I’m sure as hell going to use it. I really don’t get why they wouldn’t.”

“And that alone makes you a graeter doctor than all of them together.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“You are. Not because you used the anesthetic on me, but because you care about the patient above anything else.”

Y/N didn’t answer him, but instead smiled at him gratefully. He had just met her, and still, Clint had been about the only one who had trusted her, who had believed in her.

*****

Since then, a beautiful friendship started to form between Y/N and Clint. He didn’t come back as a patient, but as a friend instead. When he wasn’t busy on missions, he dropped by the medical bay constantly, either to check up on her or simply to keep her company. He made sure she was eating at the right hours, drinking the necessary amount of water and taking breaks so she wouldn’t bury herself in work. He also was a welcoming distraction from the nightmare that was having to deal with her boss and colleagues.

That day, though, Clint hadn’t dropped by. She was in her office alone, catching up on some reading she needed to do, when another emergency hit. She rushed out of her office and ran through the place until she found her colleagues, who were rolling a gurney and probably heading to the OR for an emergency surgery.

“Out of the way, Y/L/N.” Fowler snapped, pushing her aside.

“What happened to her?”

“Acute liver failure, she needs to be admitted into surgery.” another doctor informed.

“Wait a second, you can’t operate on her!”

Fowler and the rest of the doctors stopped the gurney and stared at her mockingly, causing her to look down with her cheeks heating up.

“And why on Earth do you think we shouldn’t operate on her?”

“She’s decompensated-”

“Because of the liver failure, keep up, Doctor Y/L/N.”

“I get that, but did you stop to look at her medical records?”

“That’s the last thing you should be thinking in such a critical-”

“She’s hemophiliac!” Y/N shouted in frustration, “If you operate on her right now, in her state, she’ll bleed out on your operations table.”

“And if we don’t operate on her she’ll die anyway.”

“Fowler, think about it.” Y/N begged him, “You’re operating for a liver failure. If you by proximity happen to touch her spleen, you can cause an erythrocyte sequestration, and with her hemophilia, it could be critical and she’ll end up dead in record time.”

“Y/L/N, are you that incapable of making critical decisions that you even question our decisions?”

“That’s not it…” she sighed softly.

“I have a team of very capable doctors with me, we can handle it.”

“Her body can’t.”

“I want you out of here, Y/L/N. I won’t let you interfere with this.”

With a frown but firm determination, she stormed out of there and ran through the whole division, looking for that specific person. Y/N found him in the middle of training with Natasha Romanoff, but she didn’t care, she still barged into the room, making both of them stop and look up at her.

“Agent Romanoff.” she nodded respectfully before turning to Clint, “Clint, I need you.”

“What’s up, sweetheart?”

“You’re an O negative, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s an emergency. Agent Levi is being rolled into surgery right now for acute liver failure. But she’s hemophiliac, she’s an O negative as well, and she can only receive blood from another O negative. Fowler is just focusing on the emergency surgery, not the critical cares he needs to have for her condition.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Can you donate blood to her?”

“Lead the way.” Clint nodded decisively.

“I’m so sorry for the interruption, Agent Romanoff.” Y/N started to say, but Natasha raised a hand in dismissal.

“Don’t sweat it, Doctor Y/L/N. Go save lives.”

Y/N urged Clint into her office, getting the bags for the blood and the needle. She made a tourniquet on his arms and touched his arm gently, assessing his vein.

“I’m really sorry, I wouldn’t be asking this of you if I didn’t think it was an emergency.”

“Y/N, you’re the doctor here.” he reassured her, “You do what you have to do.”

“Okay.” she took a deep breath, trying to calm her shaking hands, “Agent Barton, have you eaten something in the last four hours?”

“No.”

“Do you have a disease of any kind?”

“No.”

“Have you suffered from Hepatitis B, Hepatitis C, HIV-AIDS, Syphilis or another chronic illness that should be taken into account?”

“Nope.”

“Do you have multiple sexual partners?”

“Why do you want to know, sweetheart?” he smirked at her, and Y/N’s cheeks heated up in betraying as she finally realized what she had just asked him, “If you wanted a piece of this, you only had to ask.”

“I swear, it’s a routinary question for blood donors.” Y/N defended, looking around awkwardly as her heart raced with the incredibly pleasing image he had just put in her mind.

“The answer is no, in case you also wanted to know for yourself.” he chuckled, seeing her fluster, “I already have my eye on a single someone.”

However, Y/N tried to not let herself dwell on that bit of information. She already attributed her crush on him to the fact that Clint seemed to be the only one around who believed in her, who didn’t try to diminish her. She didn’t want to make it worse by focusing on it.

“Okay…” she drawled out, trying to place her attention again on the matter at hand instead of her feelings, “Have you received any organ transplants?” he shook his head, “Suffered from epilepsy, tuberculosis, severe cardiac disease or cancer?” he signalled no again, “Have you consumed alcoholic beverages, narcotics, or any intravenous or inhaled drugs in the last 12 hours?”

“Also no.” Clint raised an eyebrow, “Did I pass your test?”

“Yes, you can officially be a blood donor.”

Y/N extracted his blood as quickly and efficiently as possible, and once done, placed the bags in a small icebox. Then she went to the storage room and got all the medications she thought were needed. After telling Clint to wait for her in her office, she headed to the operating room. Fowler had already gone inside, but another doctor was just outside getting ready to assist him.

“Rivera.” Y/N called for his attention.

“What do you want, Y/L/N? I thought Fowler told you to get lost.” she pushed the icebox in his face, “What is this?”

“Agent Barton’s O negative blood. Agent Levi will need a continuous blood transfusion during the surgery. I also took, from another sample, adequate quantities of clotting factor concentrates, it should also be enough for the post-operative coverage.” she then took a few syringes from her pocket, “This is desmopressin, it can raise the coagulation factors levels to control the bleeding in case you need it. Only use it if Agent Levi gets hypotensive. If you decide to use the desmopressin, do not give her any NSAIDS or opioids. The pain should be managed with celecoxib or meloxicam, or you can use a combination of paracetamol with codeine or tramadol.”

“Why are you giving me the credit for this?”

“I don’t care about the credit.” Y/N huffed indignantly, “The patient’s life is more important than being right, even if I want to rub it in Fowler’s face.”

And it was true. Even if she later had to bear with Fowler praising Rivera for his quick thinking and precaution, if the patient was okay, she didn’t care much.

Rivera chuckled softly, “That’s impressive, Y/L/N.”

She rolled her eyes at him, “Just make sure Fowler doesn’t kill Agent Levi, make sure she survives.”

Doctor Rivera nodded respectfully at her for the first time and headed into the OR. Y/N smiled in relief and finally slowed down her pace as she made it back to her office, where Clint was patiently waiting for her.

“Why aren’t you in surgery?”

“Because Fowler wasn’t gonna let me inside, even if I were the only doctor available.”

“Then who is giving Agent Levi my blood?”

“Doctor Rivera.”

“Why did you give him the credit for your quick thinking?” Clint huffed in annoyance.

“Because no matter who assisted Fowler in that surgery, Agent Levi needed the blood. I know I was right, I know I did the right thing. But as long as Agent Levi gets well, that’s all that matters.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, I get that. But they won’t see you for the doctor you are unless you let them know.”

“You know I can’t do that.” she sighed, plopping down on the chair next to him, “I could find the cure for cancer, and they would never see it.”

Clint extended his arm to take her hand in his, squeezing it gently and rubbing soft circles on her skin, “They all will see it soon, I promise. You deserve that.”

“Clint.” Y/N calmed him, squeezing his hand back, “As long as the patients are getting what they need, I don’t need it. Yeah, it would be nice, but I care more about the patients. And if I have to let another doctor take credit for a win, then I will, as long as the patient is okay.”

Clint stared at her in pure amazement, his chest blooming with pride.

“Come on, Barton. Let’s get some glucose into your body.” she winked at him, “Doctor’s orders.”

He was definitely in trouble; he was falling for her, and he was falling hard and fast.

*****

Another day, another commotion. They were simply eating sushi in her office, hanging out, when they heard it outside. Y/N immediately sprung from her seat, offering Clint an apologetic smile, before heading out, and Clint followed after her, but they didn’t get too far, before they came face to face with two agents. Instead, they cleared the path for them and lead them into her office.

“What happened?” she asked as one agent dragged another one into the room. Both of them looked like hell; the more stable one had a few cuts down his arms and dried blood on his uniform, while the other one seemed to be in a worse condition, barely responsive.

“He was poisoned.” the agent dropped his partner on the cot, letting Y/N examine him as quickly as possible.

“He’s got dyspnea, mydriasis and ptyalism. I don’t see any visible rash or irritation around the mouth. Was it injected or ingested?”

“Either way, be prepared to induce vomiting.” Fowler walked into the room, focusing his piercing gaze on her, “Quick, Y/L/N, which emetic would you use for that purpose?”

“Apomorphine or emetine, but I wouldn’t use an emetic, sir.” she was quick to say.

“Why not?”

“We don’t know which poison was, it could be caustic and with an emetic it could burn down his anterior digestive tract. Also, he hasn’t displayed tremors nor seizures, so I think it’d be better to proceed with a gastric lavage.”

“And I suppose you have the exact antidote, don’t you?” he mocked.

“Well, no, but-”

“Get the emetic ready, Doctor Tate.”

“But sir, the induction of vomiting could be counterproductive.” Y/N added, “It could cause seizures, hypoxia, and severe depression or even induce coma.”

“Y/L/N!” Fowler yelled in anger, making her jump startled, “I don’t need you here to recite the textbook. Practicing medicine isn’t just evaluating symptoms, it’s a whole.”

“I know, but it could be more dangerous-”

“Don’t interrupt me. It’s very rare that the actual cases align perfectly with what you have memorized. And no matter how much time you spent preparing to become a doctor, you’re likely to encounter some things you never anticipated on the job. That’s what being a doctor is. If you’re not ready for that, the door is right there.”

Y/N was left standing there, opening and closing her mouth like a gaping fish.

“Fowler.” Clint growled in warning.

“No, he’s right.” Y/N mumbled like an scolded child.

She retreated to the back of the room, letting the other doctors conduct the procedures Fowler ordered. Clint immediately went after her and pulled her in a huge hug. He felt a few tears soaking through his shirt, but he knew better than to comment on it.

Clint hated everything about her situation. He had been close to shooting Fowler every time he had seen him bring her down like that, and he felt compelled to do it right at that moment. But Fowler could be dealt with, the other doctors could be dealt with. The worst part was that Y/N had started to believe what they told her. She tried not to let it show, but it was obvious it affected her.

“Maybe I’m not cut out for this…”

“Like hell you aren’t.” Clint pulled back so he could stare into her eyes, “Not all doctors can agree on a single course of action. You had your reasoning behind your suggestion, and it sounded damn good to me.” she didn’t seem to be listening to his words, “Y/N, you’re a fucking amazing doctor. I’m proof of that. I’m still here, aren’t I? And that’s thanks to you.”

“I don’t know, Clint…”

“Well, I do know.” he insisted.

“Thanks…” she whispered shyly, before hastily wiping away the few tears that had managed to escape from her eyes, “I hope you’re right…”

*****

Much to Clint’s anger, it kept happening more frequently. He watched as her voice got silenced time and time again, how her intellect was downplayed, how her confidence in her abilities was burned to the ground.

“Y/N?” he called yet again; he had been looking for her for the previous half an hour, not having found her in her office or around, “Where are you?”

Another half an hour passed before he finally found her. She was seating on the floor, in the less known part of the Division, probably so she wouldn’t be bothered, as not many people were around there.

“There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you.” he started, before noticing that she didn’t move an inch, not even when she heard him, “Sweetheart?”

Clint crouched in front of her, placing two fingers below her chin and raising her face so he could look at her. Her cheeks were tear-stained, and her usually bright eyes were red and puffy, with more fresh tears making her way down her face.

She took in a shaky breath as she turned her head to free herself of his grip, “Go away, Clint.”

He knew what she was doing; she was pushing him away because she felt vulnerable, but he wasn’t going to allow her to do that, he wanted to be there, and he sure as hell was going to stay there with her.

“That’s not an option.” he took a seat by her side, “What happened?”

She stayed quiet for several seconds, ignoring his question. Or maybe pondering whether to tell him or not. Either way, Clint felt the need to repeat it. He hated seeing her like that, and he wanted to do everything in his power to make it better for her. Just as he opened his mouth, she beat him to it.

“A patient died. They couldn’t save him.”

Clint shut his eyes and winced, finally understanding. Every death was hard, he knew that, he had dealt with that ugly aspect of being a part of S.H.I.E.L.D., but he had never really stopped to think how it was for a doctor. They knew their patients, they saw everything happening, they had human lives on their hands. Losing them had to be like losing a part of themselves, Clint thought.

“He died of anaphylaxis.” she scoffed as if she couldn’t believe the situation, “He said he was allergic to diclofenac. I tried to suggest the use of a glucocorticoid like beclometasone, but Fowler said to administer instead a combination of indomethacin and ketorolac at the right doses.”

“Sweetheart, I wish I could understand what you’re saying…” he wiped a few tears away delicately and pressed a kiss on the top of her head.

“All of them are NSAIDs.” she explained bitterly, “The patient was allergic to NSAIDs in general, not only diclofenac.”

“But that’s not your fault.”

“I got the injection ready for them to administer it, Clint. I should’ve changed the medications, but I didn’t. And because of that, he died of an anaphylactic shock.”

“You can’t save everyone, Y/N.”

“You know, everybody keeps repeating that to me, ever since medical school; I’ve had enough of that. I have to at least try to save everyone. But here, they’re not even letting me try.” she complained, “I can’t do anything here. I feel so impotent…”

Clint didn’t know what else to say. Probably because he knew that there was nothing he could say to make it better. That situation was hard enough, and it added to the fact that Fowler already had her doubting if she was cut out to be a doctor. So instead of talking, he just held her for what felt like hours, he held her while she sobbed for as long as she needed. He kept whispering sweet nothings and encouraging words in her ear, holding her close to him. When she finally managed to calm herself down, she snuggled even closer to Clint, feeling clingy, but knowing he wouldn’t mind.

“Sweetheart, I need you to listen to me.” Clint said seriously, cupping her cheeks gently, “I know you don’t feel like you’re cut out for this, but you’re so wrong. You always feel the need to justify why you’re here and how you got here, and you don’t have to. You just need to learn how to own up to your talent. You need to see yourself for the doctor you are, not the doctor Fowler is making you out to be.”

“I just…”

“I know it’s gonna be hard.” Clint added, “But please, do it for me. I need you to see yourself the way I see you.”

Y/N nodded timidly, first with hesitation and then more firmly, though before she could say anything, she found herself getting lost in his blue eyes. Words got stuck in her throat as he returned her stare with the same electric energy, looking down from her eyes to her lips and back again. They had no idea who leaned in first, but it was obvious both of them felt the exact same pull towards the other. Y/N felt Clint’s breath over her lips, causing shivers to run down her spine in anticipation. Clint wasn’t as unaffected as he later tried to tell Natasha, feeling goosebumps all over his skin at her closeness. Though, before either of them could make the decisive move, they heard a clattering noise somewhere nearby, causing them to jump apart from each other. Clint groaned in frustration while Y/N smiled with blazing cheeks, chuckling to ease the tension.

“We better get going, before we both get in trouble for not being at work.”

“Technically we’re still at work.” he answered cheekily.

“At work but not working.” Y/N pointed out.

“Fine.” he drawled out dramatically, “Let’s go.”

“Thank you.”

“But first, let’s get some food in you. Doctor’s orders.” he teased.

“You’re not a doctor.” she complained playfully, smacking his arm but still following after him.

*****

Y/N finally snapped a few months later.

It was long overdue, and yet, most of them didn’t see it coming; she had let them walk all over her so much that they never expected her to explode like that. But this time, it was personal.

She was late, which usually wasn’t a big deal for her since her involvement in the medical procedures was limited to whatever her boss wanted at the moment. Though, instead of being welcomed by the usually empty halls, the place was swarmed with people. Frowning, she picked up her pace and followed the sounds until she saw her colleagues arguing with someone else, while the rest of people limited themselves to watch the conflict. As she got closer and made her way through the crowd she noticed it was Natasha. For any stranger, it would’ve looked as if she was keeping her calm, but all of them knew better; she wasn’t yelling but she had that dangerous glint in her eyes.

“Miss Romanoff, with all due respect, you should let the experts make that decision. What you’re asking for, we simply can’t indulge you in that. It wouldn’t be right.”

Their statement showed the truth of the situation; it wasn’t really respect, it was fear. They were afraid of her, and with good reason, but they still didn’t take what she was saying into consideration. Natasha noticed all of that, and she was close to losing it.

“Fowler, I told you. I won’t hand over my best friend unless it is to Doctor Y/L/N, and only her.”

“Then you’re letting your best friend bleed out.”

“What’s going on here?” Y/N asked cautiously, looking between Natasha and her boss.

“Finally.” she muttered.

“Ah, Doctor Y/L/N, nice of you to finally join us.” Fowler scoffed, “Maybe you could deal with Romanoff’s wound while we do the heavy work.”

“Nat, you’re hurt.” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows as her eyes posed on her bleeding shoulder, but the redhead stopped her before she could get to her.

“Clint’s worse.” Natasha informed, “He needs you.”

She felt a sickening, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach at those words, “Where is he?”

“Still in the Quinjet.”

“What happened?”

“We were ambushed. He got two shots to his abdomen, but they were too deep, so I couldn’t get the bullets out. He’s unconscious, he’s lost a lot of blood. It’s not good, Y/N.”

“Then why the hell hasn’t he been admitted into surgery?!”

“Because it has to be you.” Natasha looked at her seriously, “I only trust you to do it, and Clint asked for you. It has to be you.”

Y/N squared her shoulders, pushing aside her own panic and desperation. For the moment, she needed her focus. Clint couldn’t be her Clint, he had to be just another patient for her to follow through as she needed.

“You.” she pointed to a few nurses who had been watching everything, “Get the operating room and everything else ready.”

“Yes, Doctor Y/L/N.”

“Natasha, bring him in.”

Natasha nodded, smirking arrogantly over at Fowler before leaving to get Clint. Y/N started walking decisively towards the OR, trusting Natasha to bring Clint along soon. The crowd dispersed to let her through, not being used to see her in command. Fowler and a few others followed her.

“I hope you only said that to get rid of her.” Fowler scoffed.

“I didn’t.” she stated firmly.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“You don’t have permission to perform surgery on a high-level agent like Barton.”

“Watch me.” she stopped to look at him defiantly, making him take a step back in surprise, “You heard what Natasha said. It’s a critical condition that requires immediate action, and yet you stood there arguing with her like the five-year old you are, Fowler, when the patient was dying.”

“You’re not operating on Barton, and that’s final.”

“Yes, I am.”

“I haven’t given you the clearance for that, and I won’t do it, so you simply can’t.”

“I don’t need your permission. The patient gave his oral consent, and so did the agent responding for him.”

“You’re not qualified for this.”

“The hell I’m not.” she raised her voice, getting agitated, “Fowler, I’ve had it with you, it’s been enough. I’ve caved in every time you criticize me, I’ve stood back every time you’ve decided something that has been less than ideal for the patient; I even had to watch impotently as a patient died because of your poor decisions. But I’m done with this, I’m done bearing with your stupid ego, thinking that you’re the only one that knows any shit around here, when you don’t. Enough is enough, Fowler. I won’t stand by your incompetence any longer. So either help the nurses prepare the OR or stay out of my way.”

She’d had it. Not only was she tired of everything that had been happening for months, but at that moment, Fowler had struck a nerve: Clint, who was one of the most important people for her. He had overstepped into a sensitive topic. She had seen the way he was with his patients, she wasn’t going to leave Clint in his hands, even if it was the last thing she did at S.H.I.E.L.D. before she got fired.

“A laparotomy is a complicated procedure.” it took him a few moments to overcome the shock of her talking back to him, but after he had recovered, Fowler mocked with a sneer, “And you think you can do it?”

“I know I can.” Y/N replied calmly, “If there’s one thing I’m willing to bet on, it’s myself.”

When Natasha finally arrived with Clint, Fowler put a hand on the gurney, effectively stopping it. Nat glared at him, and she was about to knock him off his ass, but Y/N raised a single hand to appease her, silently telling her friend to let her deal with him.

“Just who do you think you are?!” he barked angrily, “I’m only going to say this once, Y/L/N: step out of the way before you inevitably fuck it up and kill Barton.”

“And I’m only going to say this once: no, I’ll conduct this surgery. You’re wasting my time, and precious time for the patient, so make yourself useful and disappear.” she snapped, “I won’t let you operate on him, and if I have a say, on any other patient here.”

“Well, you don’t have a say.”

“We’ll see about that.” she promised dangerously.

“You’ll regret this!”

“I regret letting you get this far.”

“You’ll be out of a job first thing tomorrow morning.” Fowler threatened her, “And you think anyone’s gonna take you any seriously without a recommendation from your previous boss? You’ll be no one.”

“That’s it.” Natasha hissed in outrage.

“You speak as if you were the greatest mentor ever, as if working for you hasn’t been a nightmare. But guess what, Fowler? I don’t need to rely on you or anyone else. I know the doctor I am, and the doctor I can be, and none of them have anything to do with you. So, go ahead, do your worst. I don’t need your approval, and I definitely don’t need your validation. I don’t need a man to help me achieve anything. I know what I can do. I’m amazing, and I should’ve seen it sooner.” Fowler opened and closed his mouth several times, unable to come up with a reply, “So get lost, Fowler. I have a surgical procedure to perform.”

“What’s going on here?” a deeper voice interrupted, and everyone around stepped back out of respect, letting Nick Fury walk forward.

Y/N hadn’t interacted much with Fury, so she bowed her head respectfully and stayed quiet, letting someone else explain the situation but ready to jump at the chance to explain herself in case anyone decided to lie.

However, Natasha trusted Fury enough to let out just about anything that had been said and done, not only that day, but also before. Though, she recognized that roasting had to wait. The vital thing right then was getting Clint into surgery.

“Clint is in a critical condition, and Doctor Fowler here won’t let Doctor Y/L/N operate on him, when Clint clearly asked for her.”

“And you trust her?”

“I do, Nick.” she nodded solemnly, “So does Clint.”

“And can you do it?” he asked Y/N.

“I can.” she replied with certainty, earning a glare from Fowler.

“Then get to it, Doctor.” Fury ordered.

“Yes, sir.”

“Go, I’ll inform him of everything.” Natasha promised.

With a last nod in their direction, Y/N turned and took the gurney with her, taking an unconscious and barely alive Clint towards the operating room the nurses had gotten ready.

*****

The first thing that Clint recognized as he started regaining consciousness was the brightness behind his eyelids. He kept his eyes closed for a few more seconds, not ready for the intense light. Once he did, he blinked several times to get adjusted to his surroundings. He was in what appeared to be an internment room, connected to multiple machines.

“You’re awake, finally.” a voice called, and he chuckled as he noticed his best friend perked on a seat in front of his bed, “About time.”

“How’s your shoulder?” he asked, his throat feeling the soreness of not being used for who knew how long.

“Better than most of your body, I’d say.” she smirked, “You gave us quite the scare.”

“‘Us’?” Clint frowned, and Natasha signalled to his side, prompting him to turn as well.

That’s when he noticed the other person on the room. Y/N was on the other chair, fast asleep, with her hand entwined delicately with his, as if she had been afraid to even touch him.

“She hasn’t left your side.” Natasha informed him, “And not exactly as your doctor.”

“Did she-”

“Perform the surgery? Yes.” she said triumphantly, “You should’ve seen it, it was epic.”

“I should’ve seen it.” he agreed with her.

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay. Don’t do that to me again.” Natasha smiled at him, “But I think I better leave you two alone.”

As the great spy she was, she slipped out of the room practically without a sound, and just in time for Y/N to stir awake.

“Clint?” she gasped as her brain processed what she was seeing, “You’re awake.”

Y/N hastily turned to check at the screens, to make sure everything was as it should be, eliciting a soft laugh out of him.

“How are you feeling? Are you in pain? Are you comfortable?”

“Doc.” Clint stopped her, “I’m fine, and I learned it was thanks to you.”

“Don’t thank me, you could’ve died.” her expression darkened, “You were on the table for six hours. It was pretty touch and go for a while. I was so scared I was losing you.”

“You’re gonna need more than a couple of bullets to get rid of me.” he promised light-heartedly.

They talked about everything and nothing at all for a while, just sharing and enjoying their time together. Clint couldn’t help but notice just how right it felt. Being with her came easy to him.

“Fury fired Fowler.” she suddenly said, making him perk up in interest.

“Did he now?”

“Fowler kinda jeopardized your life by not letting me do the surgery. All because the patient was too stubborn and expressed that I was the only one to do it.” she teased, smiling at him.

“I wouldn’t say stubborn.” Clint smiled, “At least it worked. I knew you could do it.”

“And that’s how I knew too.” Y/N stated confidently, “Because you believed in me. You’ve always believed in me, even when no one else did, even when I didn’t believe in myself.”

“And I’ll always be around to believe in you, even if I have to remind you any other time.” he promised, entwining her hand with his and pulling her closer to the bed, “But tell me more about how it happened.”

“I gave him a piece of my mind.”

“Did you, now?”

“Yeah.” she breathed out a laugh, “Full theatrics and all, you would’ve been proud. Maybe I overstepped just a little bit, but I can’t find it in me to regret it. And Nat filled Fury in about everything else that had already happened.”

“It was about time you stood up for yourself, Y/N. And for you to truly believe it, only you could do that.”

“And I have to thank you for that.” Y/N nodded, “You helped me realize that I’m not someone’s puppet, that I’m great on my own. Though, I would’ve preferred if you hadn’t put your life on the line for that.”

“I’d say it was worth it.”

“Not to me. I can’t lose you.”

“And you won’t. But please don’t let anyone else walk all over you. You don’t deserve that.”

“I won’t, never again.” she promised, sounding the more confident he had heard her ever since he met her, “I know my worth now.”

At those words, Clint couldn’t contain himself and pulled her towards him, finally crashing his lips to hers. He had been containing himself for months, but now he didn’t see why. Y/N smiled over his lips before returning the gesture and kissing him back just as fervently. Though, she stopped him before they could get carried away.

“You still have stitches, mister.” she scolded him, “I don’t want you to bust them open.”

“I have you to take care of me for that.” Clint joked, earning a roll of her eyes.

“At least buy me a coffee first.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing for months?” he huffed, “Coffee, burgers, sushi. I’ve tried everything.”

“Well, you’re not very good at asking out on an actual date, then.” Y/N remarked, “I would’ve said yes, you know.”

“You would’ve?”

“Yes. If it wasn’t painfully obvious already, I like you, Clint. I’ve had these feelings for you for a while now.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you, Hawk?”

“Because I didn’t think you returned my feelings, woman.”

“Well, I do, and now you know.”

“Is that an insinuation that I have to ask you out?”

“It would be a good start, yes.” then her voice turned shy, uncertain, “If that’s what you want.”

“If that’s what I-” he scoffed, “Of course it’s what I want.”

“Okay.” she smiled widely, taking his hand in hers, loving the feeling of it.

“What happens now?” Clint changed the subject, “Without Fowler around, I mean. I hated the guy and I hated what he put you through, but he was still the head doctor here.”

“I don’t know, I still have to talk to Fury about what’s to come, but for now, I really don’t care about that. I just want to spend some time with you.”

“Aw, you were worried.” he teased.

“And you’re an idiot.” she rolled her eyes, “But I guess you’re my idiot.”

“Always.” Clint grinned before pulling her to him once again.

*****

Tags:  @captain-kelli, @until-theend-oftheline, @thinkwritexpress-official, @missflashgeek, @sebbytrash, @captainrogerss, @beccaanne814, @higherfurtherfasterbby​, @peculiar-persephone​, @avengerofyourheart, @avengersandchill​, @avengers-x-reader​, @percywinchester27, @buckysberrie, @docharleythegeekqueen, @becs-bunker, @jadalecki-jackles, @scarlettsoldier, @feelmyroarrrr, @hellaqueerangelofthelord, @smoothdogsgirl, @mizzezm, @girl-next-door-writes, @sorenmarie87, @dottirose, @miraclesoflove, @rinthehufflepuff

[stuckonjbbarnes]

Killer Queen {Chapter 1/?}

Pairings: Stucky x Reader

Warnings: Cursing?

Prompt: “I don't need a damn man by my side to do this.”

A/N: This is for Kelli’s 500 Fam Writing Challenge! I’m so glad we’re friends and I love you babes!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

“With all due respect Miss Potts, if Stark thinks he can bully me into a merger where he effectively controls my company and demotes me into a secretarial position, he’s got me fucked up.” Twirling the phone chord, you position the phone on your other ear and watch your assistant get up from his desk to approach your office.

“Now Ms. Karrigan–

“You can quote me on that.” You cut off the woman, setting the phone back on the receiver and take in the blonde man now filling the doorframe. A gentle giant in a nicely tailored suit.

"Miss Karrigan–

"Savannah." You smile up at Steve before taking a sip of the coffee he had brought you this morning.

"S–Savannah, your sisters are on line 2." His face flushes as your eyes trail up and down his torso.

"Thanks, Stan." When he doesn't move you add,"Was there something else?"

"It's Steve." He amends before walking back out to his desk.

"That's what I said." You call after him, watching his ass in the tight fitted slacks.

When he's back at his desk, you get up from your desk and shut the door tightly, taking a few deep breaths in order to brace yourself for the conversation. You love your sisters, really you do, but they're a bit chaotic and bless their hearts don't know how to not meddle. Doing a quick stretch, you go back behind your desk and stare at the blinking red light. Here goes nothing.

"SASSY!" The pair scream.

"Please..." You whine a little, "I'm at work...could you, for the love of god, not scream my childhood nickname for the entire building to hear?! It really belittles the whole "I'm about to be your new CEO, fear me" vibe that I've worked so hard on."

"Oh god forbid, we make you look as soft and gooey as you actually are." Brittany giggles.

"You may be the youngest and mom's favorite...but I'll still kill you."

"Stop trying to kill baby! Savannah we miss you. I wish you weren't stuck in Seattle. Not now. Not with my wedding happening in less than a week! You are coming right?! You RSVPED but I can never tell with you." Gracie, the middle child extraordinaire, calls over Britt.

"You better have a plus one! I can get Sam to invite Bucky if you want. How long has it been since you've seen him last?" 

"Yes, I'll be at your wedding Gracie. Can't wait to see the look on Loki's face when you walk down the aisle. No Britt, I don't need a date, I didn't make a plus one on purpose. Val is already trying to hook me up with someone. I haven't seen Bucky in a few months..." A lie, as he had just come up to Washington to go over business contracts last week, "I don't need a damn man by my side to do this. I don't need a date to have fun at my sister's wedding!"

"As the bride. I'm insisting you bring someone. What about Steve?" Gracie suggests.

"Steve?"

"Your assistant...we all know he's a total babe." Brittany agrees.

"Should I warn Sam that you're eyeing other men?" You joke, accidentally making eye contact with your assistant and noting a weird expression on his face. What? you mouth but he just shakes his head.

"Sassy...come on. As your little sister, who looks up to you and loves you...bring a date." You can hear the pleading in Gracie’s tone.

"Maybe."

"Great! Britt, call the planner! Tell her the extra chair at the family table is a-go!"

"I have to go...I have a meeting in 10."

"Ugh fine. Have fun becoming a photocopy of dad." Britt jokes.

"Ugh fine." You mimic. "Have fun being a sugar baby!"

"HE'S NOT EVEN THAT MUCH OLDER THAN ME!" You hear as you set the phone back down.Holding down the intercom button, you call Steve to your office, running a hand through your hair to smooth the flyaways. 

Less than a minute later, he's seated in front of you, looking pensively and holding a planner, your planner. You watch him for a moment as he flips it open and goes to rattle off your various meetings for the day.

"Steve."

"At 5:30 you– Huh?" He cuts himself off looking up.

"What are you doing this week?"

"What do you mean? I'm working. You've got all of your meetings today and tomorrow you've got a car picking you up for your sister's wedding. You're still going to that, aren't you?"

"Why does everyone keep acting like I'm gonna bail out?" You roll your eyes, relaxing your posture.

"You've got a track record of skipping family events, Ms. Karr– Savannah." He smiles in a friendly, conspiratorial way. "In the last 3 months of working for you, I've sent out more gift baskets and flowers than I can count on my hands."

"Fine! I'm a flake...I get it." 

"I'm proud of you for sticking to this."

"Well I'm not doing it alone."

"What do you mean?" Steve asks, pen stopped mid-writing.

"I mean. You're going too."

"I can't go to a wedding."

"If I can go, you can go too." You clarify.

"I'm sure your father won't–

"Do you work for me or my father?"

"...you?" He frowns, "Listen Savannah.."

"Steve, what do you have planned while I'm gone?"

"Just some paper work...I was going to re-organize my desk."

"Boring. You're coming with me."

"Savannah I don't think–

"Good, don't think...just do."

"What happened to I don't need a damn man by my side to do this?"

"Were you listening in on my phone call?!" A chill runs through your body when he doesn't respond."How dare you?!"

"It..your father. He told me to monitor your calls."

"Of course he did," You groan, knowing full well just how nosey your father is. "Listen...I already told them, well you heard. You don't have to go. But I want you to."

"Why?"

"Wouldn't you rather drink and have fun than re-organize your desk?" You ask, willing him to look you in the eyes so you can sucker him in.

"Don't look at me like that."

"I'm not looking at you like anything."

"At least you're not threatening to fire me."

"As if Mr. Karrigan would allow me to fire his precious spy."

"I'm not–

"We're leaving at 8 am. If you're late I'm going to be very disappointed." You dismiss him, adding "I want steak for lunch."

"As you wish." He mock-bows, throwing your door open.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

KQ Taglist: @wandascarlett @wxstedhexrt @kitkatd7 @angryknightstatesmantrash @urbanbts

Permanent Taglist: @bitchassbucky @mermaidxatxheart @sebbbystaaan @valkyriesryde @stibbsx @donnaintx @geeksareunique @mypassionsarenysins @buckysmischief @my-drowning-in-time @mushyjellybeans @honeyvbarnes @stateoflovinged @captain-kelli @babblingbonky @pinknerdpanda @supernaturaldean67 @impalaimages @piper-koko-barnes-rogers @this-kitten-is-smitten​

[lorenzodemedisi]

Mother’s Love.

PAIRING. 

Steve Rogers x Enhanced!Reader; Stephen Strange x Enhanced!Reader (enemy?); Avengers x Enhanced!Reader. 

SUMMARY.

After the battle in Wakanda, Thanos didn’t use the stones. No him and his army just disappeared and now he awaits, hidden in the shadows. 

The Avengers and others heroes decide to re-group at the compound, and think of a new strategy to finally defeat their enemy. Dr. Strange had a plan but is something that you might not like...at all. 

A/N.

Angst and Fluff. 

This is my entry for @captain-kelli, Captain Kelli’s 500 Fam Writing Challenge. Congratulation on your milestones girl! Prompt;  “I could do it better! And in heels.”. The theme is Strong Women, and today I really wanted to put a light on strong Mothers; their power and love. Don’t hesitate to give me your thoughts, message, and comments. Hope you will like it and thank you for reading!

Gifs are not mine, credits to the owner and maker. 

A lots of love. Lex!xxx

WORDS.3020ish. 

°°°

You felt your heart beating hard inside your chest, hurt, confusion and anger pressing your from inside out, making your body shaken hard, standing beside your husband. You felt his hand taking yours, his skin pressing your fingers together, reminding you that he was here with you but you couldn't acknowledge him right now. Not after what Strange just announced to everyone.

" You must be mistaken, Stephen. " You took a step forward, breaking the contact you had with Steve, your eyes only on the face of the man who just turned inside out your world. " Unfortunately, no. I wish we would not come to this - " " You wish! " You hissed your fuming gaze inside his regretful blue eyes, you make a fist of your hands, already feeling the energy gathering under your skin. " I will make you wish to never cross me. " You argued, your voice hard as steel, your breath ragged, but determinate to beat his ass. " Alright let's put everyone on a time out and tried to consider for a bit. " Tony interjected the little fight between the wizard and yourself putting his body in front of you. " I think we all need time to re-group and think of this new strategy-" " There is no " new " strategy to think of. " You interrupted the billionaire frowning at him before glaring toward the doctor once again. " Besides, a hard and final; no. " You snarled between your teeth, unfazed by the different gaze of other superheroes coming from other galaxies or planets.

You turned around on your heels, and quickly started to walk out of the room, leaving the other in shock, surprise but also understanding your reaction. The click of your heels echoed inside the hallway as you distance yourself from doing something stupid to the wizard or anyone else. Actually, you didn't care what they were all thinking back there, your only preoccupation was on the only person who mattered inside your eyes right now. 

"Y/N?" Steve called behind you, following you through the corridor of the compound. " What didn't you say anything? " You sharply turned around, surprising him as the blond-man froze dead in his tracks. " Y/N…" Steve sighed, his voice full of sadness and exhaustion. " This is a delicate situation and-" " No. It's not, Steve! " You cried out, furious with the lack of his reaction. "There is no need to think about it or even discuss the fact with the other. " You vaguely pointed the door behind him, where were gathered a high amount of heroes. "The answer is no. A hard no. " You declared loudly, panting. Your hands starting to shake more from anger and frustration. Why everyone acted like it was normal to consider this sacrifice and you were the only one seeing the truth? " I know that. We have to consider another alternative…" Steve tired voice told you while making a step toward your angry frame. " So why, I felt like the only one in there being alone against everyone? Why don't you had my back? " You continued to shout, interrupting him once again, tears threatening to fall on your cheeks. " I have your back, Y/N. " The Captain also yelled at your face, outraged of your accusation. He took a deep breath, calming his emotions looking down on his shoes, for a minute. " I have your back. " He repeated calmer, rising his head to look at your face. " And I already told you, this fight his a delicate one. We all need to be on the same page and threatening an ally is not how we need to handle this. " He explained, making another step and gently took your hand inside his big one.

You let your blurry sight looking away from his blue eyes, and watched the compound's ground behind the huge glass windows. The sun was almost up, and you realized that you've been locked inside the room at the end of the hall for almost all night. Exhausted you closed your eyes, and bit your lips while Steve pushed on your hand to make you take the one last step that separated both of your bodies apart. You face collied on his tone chest, and his protective arms enlaced your trembling figure inside a thigh hug.

" I will never let anything happen to our baby girl or you. " He murmured leaning his head inside the crook of your neck, his lips brushing your ear. " I promise you with all my heart that I will be long dead before someone touches her head." He added, pressing a soft skin on your skin.

You sniffed against the fabric of his shirt, holding on your tears as hard as you could, the reassuring words of your husband playing inside your brain and appeasing your worries inside your mind.

" Let's go join them. " Steve whispered, pulling his figure away from you. " We have to take a decision, together. Something which will suit everybody. " Steve declared, in his deep and firm leader voice.

It was easier to say that to accomplish.

°°°

Because of your different personalities, different historical backgrounds and also deep and true nature, it was difficult to make a conclusion of what would be the best approach to win against Thanos and his army.

" So, after hours of deliberation, we all conclude that we can't take him by force, surprise or with subtlety. " James Rhodes enumerated reminding everyone of what you haven't decided to do within these thirteen hours of searching. " So, we all going to die. That's fun. " He nodded, taking a seat next to an annoyed Clint at the huge table inside the room. " Maybe if we go with my idea…" Dr. Strange mumbled under his breath not looking at anyone in particular, standing a little bit at the edge of the group.

You snarled and glared at him, ready to cut his irritating head from his irritating body if he mentioned his horrible idea once again.

" Maybe the wizard had a point. " The One who names himself Star-Lord, winced crossing his arms on his chest. " Excuse me? " You sneered, turning your dark eyes toward the brown-haired man. " All I'm saying is that maybe it worth a shot. " He shrugged his shoulders, grimacing, even more, feeling all the eyes of the room were on him. " No, it's not. " You firmly replied to him, before Steve could defuse the situation. You raised yourself from your seat, your angriness growing once again inside your core. " Come on, Y/N. I'm sure your daughter could do it. " The wizard remarked striding toward the table, purpose inside his eyes. " She's only three, Stephen. Stop this nonsense and lets us think of something more conclusive who doesn't involve my daughter's safety. " Steve raised his voice inside the room covering the little chats amongst the different groups seating at the table.

His features resolved and set, showing no discussion could change his or your mind, but when the magician had something in mind he was ready for anything to accomplish his purpose.

" I don't agree. " Stephen grinned eying you, and only you. " She would be fine." " And I would be better. " You affirmed him, blowing your fists covering in brigh force field against the wooden table in front of you making everyone jolted inside their seats. " Good. " The wizard concluded, taking his hands away from his pockets. "Because he's here." He announced taking a deep breath.

Nobody had the time to fully understand the meaning of his words before the ground shook and devastated started to wreck everything on the building.

°°°

Dark smoke everywhere made you coughed inside your hand, while walls shooke the grounds by falling down on everything and everyone. You couldn't see anything only heard cries, here and there from people trying to free themselves from this nightmare. You closed your eyes, feeling a headache beginning to ponder inside your skull, but suddenly you felt a hand griping your arm hard and raised your body from the holes you were lied on to the surface. You gasped for air, your eyes opening wide as you felt warm hands on your face and a distinct familiar voice calling you.

" Y/N? Y/N? Can you hear me? "

You shifted your eyes toward the voice, your eyes catching Steve's blue one. He sighed seeing you alive, a faint smile creeping on his face but quickly the sharp sound of weapons clashing against one and other, guns and other powers drowned toward the enemy made him looked away. Toward the battlefield. 

" He's here. " You moaned, putting yourself into a seating position, crunching your nose when you felt the injuries inside your rib cage and thighs burning you. " Yeah…" Steve nodded faintly, raising his eyes on the battle ahead of you, looking through for the Titan. " Great. " You sighed, biting your lips hard realizing that the final battle had knocked hard on your doorstep. All of sudden you realized something, that made your blood boiled with madness. " Where's Strange? " You demanded, turning your eyes toward the battle scolding your eyes at all the individuals.

You didn't wait for an answer from your husband to raise your body from the destroyed ground and started to run. You felt all your limbs were heavy with exhaustion and injuries but you continued to run, without thinking about anything but about the teleportation abilities of the wizard and his knowledge of the location of your daughter. You passed by many Dora Milaje fighting aliens, quickly your eyes caught Tony in his suit flying above your head, followed closely by Sam and the Valkyrie. Your eyes were everywhere but you couldn't find the wizard anywhere. You groaned frustrated, unaware of being the target of aliens weapons, you heard the sharp cries coming closer, and your eyes caught sight of them, but it was too late. They were upon you a second and being thrown away from a large hammer, the next. You pushed the next wave of monsters with a wave of your hand, craning your neck to look at Thor behind you.

" Where's Strange? " You asked him, yelling over the battle shout around you. " A thank you would also be nice. " He raised an eyebrow, his hand opened in front of him to get a hold of his hammer coming back toward him, knocking a few aliens along the way. " He's over the barricade, holding down the water. Why? " The God of Thunder asked, making out a bolt of lightning with the tip of his fingers and hit with it another bunch of your enemies.

You quickly searched for him, behind your back but found yourself blown away by a huge amount of power. And this time no one was there to save your ass as your body got thrown on the ground, hard. You felt bone-breaking because of the blow you received, colliding against the rough soil.

" I heard quite a tale Miss Y/N. " A deep and mocking voice told you reaching your ears even if multiple battles screams were all around you. You groaned, feeling your injuries tearing you apart all your frame, and rose your head opening your eyes to watch the dark purple head of the Titan smirking at you. " Here we meet again. " He smiled, his dark eyes filled with mischief and darkness.

You groaned, even more, feeling the copper taste of blood on your tongue, your wobbling legs getting your body up. You stood awkwardly, patches of dirt and dry blood on your skin, your hair all messed up. It was only you and him, apparently. Good.

" Maybe I should pay a little visit to your dear daughter of yours. The wizard thinks highly of her. " He started advancing on you, still smiling. 

Oh no he didn't. At the mention of her, your eyes widen in shock but also anger and hatred. Rage started to grow inside of your body erupting inside your heart.

" She's three right? " Thanos asked, still grinning. You felt the hot flame of outraged growing inside your stomach, your legs started to shake feeling warm wrath emanating all over you. " And he really thinks she can be the key to beat me and this. " He chuckled raising his arm strapped into the gold gauntlet, all the Infinity Stones bright with glow and colors. " That's a bit…too much, don't you think?" " H-He w-wanted to make an s-s-sac-crifice of her or s-somethin'. " You stuttered, your voice trembling from the boiling emotions that were exploding inside of you. You watched him stop into his tracks, just a few meters away from you, looking at you from up-down. " That's funny. Maybe I should start by killing you and then go make a little visit to her. " He suggested, starting to make a fist of his hand wearing the most powerful weapon in the world. " And, I would get to see if she's actually good enough to… destroyed me. " He shrugged his shoulders, his eyes catching the magic trick of Dr. Strange was making with his hands, standing a few feet away from you. Gold lines were appearing everywhere between his fingers.

Your eyes were only on the man who had utterly threaten your daughter's life. You couldn't feel anything, nor the ground under your heels, nor the floating glow around you but only the anger. The fury coming from you was unyielding love of a mother, that would do anything to protect her little one from this sick monster. Stephen Strange tried to hold on the Titan for a long time but with a flick of a gem, he got knocked out on the ground.  

" You really think you could have a shot to defeat me, you lower rank magician," Thanos chuckled, shaking his head at the man lying. " No…" The dark-haired man shook his head looking up at the figure in the sky. " I could do it better! And in heels. " You declared high in the sky, your eyes glowing like flame ready to destroyed and burned everything on his way. "Goodbye, you freak. "

Quickly you rose both of your hands and let the anger pondering inside of you for hours wreak havoc on the battlefield. Time stop, body froze, some felt on the ground, some raised their head to look at the firebird bright in the dark sky. You were nothing but, power. Raw power, destroying, ruining and killing the opponents by shattering their body in pieces. Your eyes were only on the man who had menaced your child, feeling the deep pool of your power breaking the smirk of his face made you pulled inside of it, again and again, your rage, protectiveness and love never-ending if it meant the safety of your child. You continued to ruin everything until nothing was left of his body, his army and his ships in the sky. Until you felt no more pain, anger or any feelings at all.

°°°

Something smooth was stroking you. Light and as soft as a feather. You slowly opened your eyes, feeling the caress trying to pry on your neck and tickled you. Bright light through the windows made you close your eyes quickly but the little sensation on your skin put a faint smile on your lips. You were awake, alive and... well had some company. You tried again to open your eyes once again, slowly this time and turned your face toward the little disturbance. The little girl opened her blue eyes wide seeing you smile at her.

" Awake! Mommy is awake." She cried out in a delicious laugh, her face lightened up. She rushed her small body against yours her little arms enlacing your neck.

You chuckled, your nose brushing her little head. You raised with difficulty your arm to stroke her back. You rose your head and caught the sight of your husband smiling at you. You licked your lips, feeling a little bit sore, your injury not completely healed and winced a bit as you pushed yourself into a seating position, your back against the bed headboard.

" Hi, baby. " You whispered, your voice hoarse and dry. " How's my baby girl? " You murmured as she pulled away from your neck and put a gentle kiss on your cheek. " Alright, Audrey let mummy breathe a little bit. " Steve announced walking toward the bed you were resting, before stroking the hair of his girl. " No, it's ok." You murmured smiling at the blond-man. " Mummy wants another cuddle, come here. " You proposed opening your arm the other still numb. " Yeah, cuddle! " Audrey exclaimed, pushing her body against your collarbone, her hand enlacing your neck once again. She closed her eyes, her head resting on your shoulder.

You put another kiss on her head, and breath, your nose pressed against her skin, reassured that she was here, with you. You opened your eyes and slid your face to look at Steve.

" What happened? " You inquired shifting your eyes toward your husband while holding on your breath waiting for his reply. One hand protectively on your Audrey's back. " Everything and everyone is fine. " Steve smiled, before pushing his body to hover yours and your little one. " Thanks to you, mama bear. " He murmured, his clear eyes bright in the natural light of the room.

Steve put a soft kiss on your lips and sat on the edge of your bed, reaching for his daughter to put her little body on his lap. The little family was reunited and started to enjoy their moment after complicate and dark times.  However, the wandering eyes spying on them through the clinic window was a colorful addition to the mix.

" Don't look like me like this. " The dark-haired man scoffed, arranging the collar of his cap. " I do what I had to do for us to win. Mother's love is the most powerful and dangerous thing out there." He shrugged his shoulders at the two soldiers glaring at him. " I had to make her angry, and that was the only way. " He continued to justify himself, as he started to walk outside the room, following by the desperate look of Sam and angry stares of Bucky. "Desperate times need desperate measures, soldiers. " Stephen Strange told them still striding to the exit, his back to them.

°°° Tag List; @jtargaryen18 @princessdancingonthesunshine @captain-kelli​ @fckdeusername​

[jbbarnesnnoble]

No Sweet Dream

Summary: Sometimes running leads to finding the family you never knew you needed. 

Features: Implied violence, canon typical violence (however, not heavily detailed), mentions of blood/injuries

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader, Natasha Romanoff/Steve Rogers (mentioned) 

Notes: Written for @captain-kelli‘s 500 Fam Writing Challenge. Inspired (loosely) by Halsey’s Nightmare. 

Fun fact, I wrote a different fic originally but it went so far off the rails I shelved it to turn it into a series (releasing starting tomorrow!) that’s a Far Cry 5 crossover.

There’s also some ahem elements of Avatar the Last Airbender  

Word Count: 3458

Blood ran down your arm as you stood, staring at the shattered pieces of the mirror in the sink of the crappy motel you were in. You thought of how you had ended up there. You were running, always running. Never stopping. Not since it happened, not since she told you to run and never look back. You hadn’t stopped since. 

Looking in the mirror, you had just seen his eyes staring back at you. It was too much to take and your fist had met the glass before you could stop yourself. It likely wasn’t the first time the motel had seen broken furniture and it wouldn’t be the last. 

Your father had been a piece of work. A religious fanatic turned HYDRA operative. At the center of it all was you and your powers. From the time you had hit puberty, you had displayed an innate ability to take control of elements. It had started with earth. You had kept it to yourself as a young child, afraid of your father. Your father was strongly anti-mutant, unless they were being used as weapons. He had joined HYDRA by the time he discovered you had been hiding your abilities. You were sixteen at the time. For him, it meant he had a bargaining chip to gain power. There was no telling what HYDRA could do with someone like you. 

You were a tool, an asset. No longer your own person. Not there. Not with them. A means to an end, the end being the destruction of those who stood in the way of HYDRA. When they lost the Winter Soldier, you became their next best asset, regardless of the other soldiers they had. No, you were special. You had abilities that could be used, be manipulated. Abilities you fought against using at every turn. Your skin crawled with discomfort as you thought of your time with them, under the thumb of Alexander Pierce, of Brock Rumlow. With the fall of SHIELD and the exposure of HYDRA, you had been at his mercy. Until she found you and told you to run. You knew of her. The Black Widow, an Avenger, one of the ones Brock had wanted you to take out. You didn't stop running.

You knew he'd died that day, suicide bomb. But so had innocent people. The world blamed the Avengers, called for them to be reigned in, for the UN to have control. You couldn't see how that would end well, but somehow, it did. You were in the middle of Iowa when the news broke about Captain America returning, no longer a fugitive, and Sergeant Barnes being cleared of charges. He was being treated in an undisclosed location. 

Months later found you in upstate New York, the middle of winter. You had found work at a diner. You hadn't found an apartment, you rarely stuck around long enough to require one. Keep moving. Keep running. Don’t give anyone a chance to get the drop on you. You refused to allow yourself to be used again. You were not a weapon. You were not a killer. You were not what HYDRA made you. You repeated that to yourself, over and over. 

The bell above the door jingled, your head snapping to the door out of reflex. You never could relax enough, no matter how long you spent in one place or how many diners or mom and pop shops you worked in. You tripped backwards over your feet when you saw her. Her eyes met yours, recognition on her face. Your heart rate jumped, sweat beaded on your forehead, and your breathing was unsteady. Run. Run. RUN. It was all you could think in that moment. Never stop running, even from her, even from an Avenger. Your safety depended on never being found. Your shift was up, and you couldn’t rip the apron your wore off fast enough, the back door clattering behind you as you took off for your car. You knew you couldn’t outrun the Avengers, couldn’t hide from them. As you drove, your panic lessened as more distance was put between you and the diner. It led to where you were now. Staring at the shattered mirror, ignoring the pain, and wondering if you’d ever know normal. 

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Natasha sighed as she watched you tense when you saw her. She had been keeping tabs on you for months since Rumlow’s demise and the fallout from it all. She knew you weren’t a threat. You were scared. HYDRA had had a hold on you since you were a teenager. The events leading to HYDRA being exposed only caused you more trouble.

“That was her?” Steve asked. Both Natasha and Bucky nodded.

“They called her the Elemental. HYDRA isn’t exactly creative with what they call their assets,” Bucky said. 

“Her fear is strong, but her desire to survive is stronger,” Wanda said, her voice low. You had been projecting both things strongly enough that it had hit her the second they walked into the diner. 

“What’s our plan here?” Sam asked.

“Wanda and I will go find her,” Natasha said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

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You were startled by the knock on your door. You were in the middle of tending to the cuts caused by the mirror. You looked out the peep hole and saw Natasha Romanoff standing on the other side with Wanda Maximoff. You had choices, but none of them saw you evading the two women. You could fight your way out, but it was two on one and even with your abilities, you knew Maximoff’s powers were stronger. 

You sighed as you opened the door, your shoulders squared and your hands kept in loose fists. 

“You know, you’re a hard person to find,” the Black Widow said as she entered your room. Your eyes narrowed, taking in the two women as they invited themselves in.

“I never said you could come in,” you quipped. 

“No, you didn’t. But we both know why I’m here,” she said. Your eyes met hers. She didn’t seem hostile. 

“To arrest me? Kill me? Which is it, Romanoff?” you asked.

“If I was here to kill you, you’d already be dead. You know, when I told you to run, I didn’t mean forever,” she said. You scoffed.

“What choice was there? HYDRA’s still out there. It didn’t die with Pierce and Rumlow,” you snapped. 

“You could have come to us,” she said. You shook your head.

“I’m tired of being used as a weapon. I’m tired of being used, period. I was used by my father to get ahead in HYDRA. I was used by HYDRA to kill, to threaten. Does that end if I join the Avengers or is it just the same thing with a different name?” you asked. 

“We can protect you,” she said. You took a breath, keeping yourself in check. If you let your emotions get the best of you, there was no telling what could happen. 

“I can do that just fine myself, thanks. I hear what you’re offering and I don’t want it. I’m done fighting,” you said.

“Then you don’t have to fight, but what is constantly running doing for you? Can you honestly say you’re living? Or are you just surviving?” Wanda asked you. You leaned against the wall, lost in thought for a moment. What was living when you were running for your life? What was living when you weren’t sure what monsters lurked in the dark, waiting for you to slip up? When was the last time you listened to music or watched a movie? You couldn’t remember. 

“I...what do I do?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper. Your shoulders sagged and the weight of the past months, no the past years, collapsed in on you. You couldn’t remember the last time you let yourself cry. You thought you’d forgotten how to. Never show weakness you remembered being told. You felt two arms wrap around you and you tensed. When was the last time anyone had hugged you? Touched you with intent to comfort, not to hurt? You couldn’t remember that either. Kindness, after all, was yet another weakness. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” a soft voice said. Another set of arms wrapped around you, a hand rubbing soothing circles on your back as you buried your face in one of their shoulders, a soothing scent of lavender and honeysuckle filling your senses. 

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Three months later found you training with Natasha and Wanda frequently. You refused to fight, to be part of the team. They refused to let you depend only on your powers to protect you. You had a constant onlooker in the form of Bucky Barnes. 

When you’d first met the man, you had been terrified. You had hid behind Natasha, feeling true fear for the first time in months. His expression had changed from a welcoming smile to one that showed the unusual, yet heartbreaking, combination of understanding and hurt. 

“For what its worth, I’m not him anymore,” he said. You peeked out from behind Natasha, really taking a moment to take him in. His stance was open and relaxed. His arm was different than you remembered, his hair shorter. You knew now that he was Bucky Barnes. He was more than the Asset that had plagued your nightmares. You had seen what he could do and it had terrified you. He was your constant reminder of what HYDRA could do while you were both under their control. His eyes were blue, something you had never noticed before. You moved out from behind Natasha, taking slow steps toward him. You extended your hand to him, a peace offering or an introduction you weren’t sure, and gave him your name. He smiled at you, a genuine smile, not the tight lipped one that had graced his face when Natasha had brought you into the room.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman,” he said. You felt your cheeks heat up from the compliment. It had been ages since you’d felt any kind of spark. 

“You certainly are a charmer,” you replied, a smile settling on your face. 

Since then, he had become part of your daily routine. He’d watch as you sparred with Nat or Wanda, giving advice when needed, small corrections to your form, new ways to see things. Never condescending or demanding, he took his role as a mentor seriously. Your trust and your friendship was a gift he never wanted to lose. You trusted him to be upfront with you about where your technique could use work. You trusted him to do that without treating you like a child. You may not have wanted to be an Avenger, something they all respected, but he knew it was something you’d excel at. 

“Still haven’t changed you mind?” Natasha asked as you took a break. You shook your head.

“I like what I’m doing now, Nat. The intel, the research. It’s nice. It’s peaceful. I’m tired of fighting. I spent too long under someone’s thumb. And then all that time running...it’s nice to be home, to have a family, to finally live,” you said. She was quiet for a moment. 

“Family,” she said, a smile forming on her lips. 

“Well, there is one person I wouldn’t necessarily call family,” you said quietly, your eyes flicking to where Bucky stood, in deep conversation with Steve and Sam who had entered the room. Natasha let out a small laugh before raising her eyebrows, a hint of suggestion in her expression. 

“So you want to bone the Winter Soldier,” she said, turning her chair around and sitting on it backwards. You and Wanda shared a look before bursting out laughing.

“Alright Captain America,” you teased. Natasha threw her empty water bottle at you, which you caught with ease before it hit your face. 

“That reminds me. Have you gotten an update from Peter on Operation Payback?” Wanda asked. You nodded. Operation Payback was the plan you, Peter, Wanda, and Sam had come up with after a particularly heinous day of training where Steve showed no mercy. Peter had just been forced to watch one of the PSAs in gym class, PSAs the rest of you had no idea existed until that moment. 

“Operation Payback?” Natasha asked curiously. 

“Nope. Not telling you a thing. You’re sleeping with the enemy,” you said. She sent a playful glare your way. 

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You stared at Steve in disbelief, shaking your head as he spoke. He couldn’t be serious. He had promised you it would never come to this. 

“We need you out there. I know we made a promise but…,” his voice trailed off. Anger radiated off you in waves. 

“You made a promise now keep it,” you snapped. He ran a hand through his hair. 

“I wouldn’t be asking this if it wasn’t important. We sent a team in earlier this week,” he said. You froze. Bucky, Sam, Nat, and Wanda had left on a mission earlier in the week. Classified. 

“Steve?” you asked, your voice a whisper. He nodded, his expression grim.

“We lost contact an hour ago. They’re somewhere in the north of Finland. Storm’s rolling in,” he said. You took a breath. 

“What’s in Finland, Captain?” you asked, shifting from being staunchly against being sent out on a mission into preparing yourself for something you swore you’d never do. Your friends were in danger, and that was that only thing that mattered to you. 

“One of the few active HYDRA bases remaining. After everything that’s happened, they’re still here. Decimated, but surviving,” he said. 

“What’s our plan here, Cap? We can’t just go in guns blazing,” you said. He looked at you, eyes locked on yours. 

“So you’re in?” he asked.

“If it means saving our friends? I’ve lost enough already. I’m not losing them too. HYDRA’s been in my nightmares since the day Nat told me to run. Maybe it’s time for me to become their nightmare,” you told him. He nodded. 

“Alright. We’ve got a briefing with the rest of the team in ten,” he said. 

That was how you found yourself on a quinjet with Tony, Bruce, Steve, Thor, Clint, and Peter. You didn’t want to think about what would happen to your friends, about what HYDRA would do to them. By the time you were touching down, you had been up for over twenty four hours. You had been getting ready for bed when Steve had called for you. 

It hadn’t surprised you that Tony had a suit ready for you. “Just in case we ever needed to break that glass, kid”  he had told you when he showed you. Fireproof, because sometimes you ended up accidentally setting your clothes on fire when using your powers. 

Bruce was hanging back. If push came to shove and you needed Hulk, it would take him almost no time at all to reach the base. You were paired off with Steve. 

As you entered, there was an eerie silence. There were bodies strewn about, proof that a fight had happened. But what happened to the team? You and Steve shared looks of confusion as you moved deeper into the base. It was on the third level down, the bottom floor that you heard it. Wanda’s scream. Your instinct was to run toward the sound, but Steve held you back.

“We can’t just run in guns blazing,” he reminded you. You nodded. You focused in. You weren’t sure how to describe it, but with the vibrations, you could get a rough idea of how many people were around. You had been inspired to try that after a weekend binge of Avatar: The Last Airbender with Peter and Wanda. You were starting to wonder if your mutation had been influenced by the show. 

“What is it?” Steve asked. 

“You know that new talent I figured out? I think we’re looking at six people, not including the team. Hard to tell...haven’t exactly perfected it,” you murmured. 

“Can you get a sense of weapons?” he asked. You glared at him.

“No. Cap, we have limited choices here,” you said as Wanda’s scream pierced the air once more. 

The two of you shared a look. You nodded toward the door. It didn’t take long for it to kick off once you and Steve breached the door. You couldn’t let yourself be distracted by your friends. You had to focus on the fight.

“It’s the Elemental,” one of the men said as your fist connected with the face of another. You just smirked.

“I’d prefer to be called your worst nightmare,” you quipped. If the situation wasn’t so dire, you were certain you’d have heard a chorus of groans from that one. Somehow, they had gotten the upper hand, Steve knocked down and knocked out, leaving you to face the three men left standing.

“You’ve had your fun. It’s time to come home,” the one said. You recognized his voice. Aleksi was one of Pierce’s closest allies. You froze. Pierce was a horrible man, Rumlow no better. But Aleksi was worse. You took a breath.

“No,” was all you said. When all was said and done, Aleksi was the only one still breathing of the men who were holding your friends captive, and if you had it your way, it wouldn’t be for long. 

“You think...if you kill me that’s the end? It will never end,” he said, his breathing ragged. You ignored him, focusing on your friends. The others had arrived just as the fight had ended. Bucky was out cold, along with Steve. Wanda, Nat, and Sam were injured. But they were alive. And that was what mattered. 

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

You hadn’t left Bucky’s side since you landed back at the compound, except to let Dr. Cho check him over. He was still out, seventeen hours after arriving back, not that you had been counting. If you had been counting, you would have noted that it had been seventeen hours, nineteen minutes, and seven seconds since you had stepped off the quinjet. But you weren’t counting. Steve had woken up on the plane and the others were well on their way to making a recovery. 

Someone cleared their throat from the doorway. You looked up to see Natasha standing there, arm in a sling.

“You put up a hell of a fight,” she said. 

“You’re not here to talk me into joining full time, are you?” you asked her. She shook her head. 

“If how things stand makes you happy, there’s no reason for it to change. Though, your skills would be useful in the field,” she said.

“So why are you here?” you asked.

“You need to eat. And sleep on something that isn’t that chair. And maybe admit that you want to bone the Winter Soldier,” she said. You groaned.

“When you put it that way it sounds so crude. I don’t want to ‘bone’ him, Nat. I mean, I do, but I want more than that,” you said. She smirked. 

“You like him,” she said. You shook your head.

“I think I love him,” you said, unaware of the supersoldier waking up in the hospital bed beside you. 

“Is that why you went on the mission?” she asked.

“No,” you said, earning a glare from her, “partly. But. You guys were in danger. I had the ability to help. You’re my family, Nat. If any of you had died...and I could have prevented it?” you said, your voice breaking. 

“But we didn’t, and you were there. Don’t dwell on the what ifs,” she said. You heard movement beside you and saw Bucky sitting up. When you looked back to Nat, she was gone. 

“You love me,” Bucky said, a teasing smirk on his face. 

“But, you already knew that,” you told him. 

“I’ve had my suspicions. But I’ll let you in on a secret, doll. I think I love you too,” he said. Dr. Cho chose that moment to enter the room, running some quick tests before clearing Bucky to leave medical. You walked with him to his door.

“How about a date? Tonight? We can go to that Italian place you like,” he said. You shook your head and watched as the smile fell from his face.

“I want to go on a date, but we’ve had an exhausting few days, don’t you think? How about a movie night?” you asked him. 

Life had been a nightmare. But that nightmare led to family. You didn’t need to be afraid anymore. You could stand on your own just fine, but life was much better when you had others to stand with you. You didn’t have to run anymore.

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Mission Turn It Up In The Club (It’s The Avengers)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

ONE SHOT

Warnings: fluff, dirty brains, drunk babbies, cutest allies, shocked fathers, confused jocks.

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline   Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

One Shot: When Thor indirectly challenges you- a complete noob with zero knowledge of espionage- to go on a relatively easy mission and get some intel, you accept it, never really ready for what's about to happen. And the camera crew records it all.

Word Count: Never underestimate the power of your inner voice because boy does it make you feel amazing about yourself sometimes!

Written for @captain-kelli 500 Fam Writing Challenge. Thank you so much for letting me participate! I picked the Quote (not a dialogue) : There is no limit to what we, as women, can accomplish.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

You come with your shades over your eyes and a yoghurt smoothie in your hand, and sit down on the chair in the recording room, adjusting your 'noice and toit' t-shirt before looking in the direction of the equipment. Clearing your throat and shifting back in the chair- going as back as you possibly can- you nod at Javier and get ready for the camera to roll, never taking off the shades.

You: *sighs* *rests face on your palm* *in a coarse incomprehensible voice* It all star- *tries to clear the coarseness of the throat* ahem ahem *makes bleching noises before groaning* *stops* *sighs* Hmm...where were we? *looks straight past the camera at Javier with half-open lips* Right...right. *looks back at the camera* *lips still half-open* It all started yesterday when a stupid b**** tried to become over smart.

Twenty-Four Hours Earlier

Everyone sat in the lounge of the Avengers Compound reading the reports that had just come in from Fury about a cartel trying to traffic alien wreckage- mostly weapons- to the black market. That 'everyone' excluded you, your adopted dog Zuko, and a very unamused and unbothered Loki sitting on the raised platform by the french windows with a copy of Sapiens and your favourite mug filled with hot tea.

The camera zoomed in on you concentrated on writing something on your laptop; so engrossed you were that you never noticed when Clint quietly gorged on your choco-chip cookies and drank your orange juice.

"But we only have to gather intel from a couple of guys meeting in the city today?"

Thor- who was finally at an Avengers meet after getting things in order for his Asgardians somewhere in Norway in their 'new Asgard'- pshd at the tablet in his hands and chuckled.

"Gather intel. Is that the human way to say drink some beer with these filthy humans and let them talk everything about their plan?"

"Damn right," everyone around him muttered.

"So easy even Y/N could do it," he chortled, catching your ears and a long sigh from the God sitting by the window enjoying the sun.

"Woah, now," Tony interjected, slapping Thor's shoulder with the back of his hand, "don't give her any ideas."

You narrowed your eyes at Tony. "I'm sure if Thor says I can do it-"

"Thor also said none of you ladies can process Asgardian mead," Clint added, buried in the sofa next to you, his tablet acting as a shield against the warm early afternoon sun.

Flashback to a party at the compound

Sam wobbled, trying to stand with the support of the bar while Clint kept muttering ‘I think I can see inside you guys. Like, really see.’ Bruce was being consoled by Thor in one corner. “The big guy hates me, Thor. He doesn’t-he doesn’t love me at aaaalllllll.” Scott and Bucky tried to wager who pin the donkey. The former didn’t even get to hold the tail in his hand. While all this mayhem unfurled, Natasha and Wanda sat by the bar recording everything on their phone while sipping their third Asgardian mead cocktail. “We should do this more often,” Natasha had suggested at one point during at night.

"I don’t get how you can't process it after the first buzz," Natasha called out from the dining table, never looking away from her tablet but still smiling.

"I'll sit this one out," Thor declared, sitting next to you, "I'm sure the Black Widow or Wanda can handle that."

You looked at him with an unwavering gaze for quite some time, making Thor uncomfortable after a certain point. Loki, who had caught you through the whole shebang, had a soft smile creeping on his face on watching you make his brother so uncomfortable.

"Wow," you finally spoke, letting your head move with the exclamation, "you are such a jock, aren't you?"

"A what?"

Loki: *smirks**snickers**snickers turn into uncontrollable laughter**continues laughing**stops midway with a serious look to shout* FINALLY!

"You don't want to go because there won't be any fighting and show of power," you state, turning yourself towards him, "and having conversations with guys seems too boring. Mostly because of your hate for bad guys. You know they won't give you answers straight away if you ask them politely, which I know you hate. So the next step is- 'why can't we just beat the shit out of them after they gave up on my offer to tell everything like good boys?'."

Thor: *crinkled brows* ...we can't? *looks behind the camera* why can't we? 

Tony and Steve stood next to each other- former's brows creased, latter's raised, both in a bit of admiration shock- taking in your breakdown. Finally, Steve leaned a little towards Tony to whisper, "did she just profile Thor?"

"Oh, yeah," Tony answered on the same wavelength before Steve could even finish his question, "she definitely did." He concluded with a smile filled with soft pride.

 "You know what, I'll take it," you casually declared to the lounge while leaning on the coffee table next to you. "Take what?" Steve asked, wanting to find out more of whatever was coming from your mouth. "The challenge," you shrugged, "I'll take up the part of getting some men to blabber about the locations. And while I'm at it, I'll get them to tell me about their boss' headquarters as well. Hmm?"

"Of course, you will," Tony chuckled softly in a trance for one second and furrowed his brows in confusion the next. "Wait, what?"

"You heard me," you announced in his direction before going back to whatever it is you were so busy doing on your laptop, leaving Tony to let his mouth open in displeasure.

"Young lady, you're not going anywhere near those sons of bitches."

Steve looked at the camera with a raised brow.

Steve: You know that moment when you see one of your best friends do everything reckless in this goddamn world, wanting you to curse him with having to once step in your shoes and see what it's like to keep him in check? *smiles with satisfaction* This is one of those days when you see it coming true. When God finally heard your prayers and sends that very friend's kid to make every one of your wishes come true. *nods* *gets serious* Though I'm against putting Y/N in danger. *shakes head* Would never let her do something as reckless as her biological father. *smirks* But damn it feels good.

 Tony: *narrows eyes at the camera* Is that what Captain Star-spangled underwear thinks? *Nods* Hm. *clicks tongue* Well, that day isn't far when I fund research led by Bruce to make super babies with Steve's *makes air quotes* super semen and make him go through the fate of a father and the burdens that come with it.

*Silence*

*camera pans out to show a very pregnant and a very weirded out Pepper sitting next to him with her head resting in her palm as she hears her husband talk*

Pepper: *looks into the void* *inhales* Or you could just make him the mentor for the young heroes in the compound and watch him struggle to get them in line. *shrugs* Better yet, let him be in charge of showing Loki the ropes.

Tony: *still silent* *looks into his void* *blinks* *tilts his head* *looks back at the camera* *smirks* Pepper?

Pepper: Hmm?

Tony: *turns to face her* Have I told you how much I admire your genius?

Pepper: *making circles on Tony's arm* *whispers suggestively* You have but I won't mind you saying it again.

Tony: Well, you are genius, darling. A genius with the power to create countries and throw dictators off their high horses.

Pepper: *raises her head from her palm with a glint in her eyes* *softly announces* Anthony Stark, we're going to your office and you won't stop saying all of it till I tell you to.

Tony: *feels a visible shudder go down his spine as Pepper gets up and walks away* Y-yes ma'am. *looks at the camera with a hint of disbelief*

Pepper: *from outside the room* Now!

*Tony rushes out*

.

The Confidential Club

The camera went from black to a few neon lights flickering in the distance. A heavy base song faded in when everything started coming into focus.

Don't get sick

Don't get strep

Don't get bronchitis

Aye

A soothing glow of blue lit up the walls, which the camera did a slow three-sixty, through which two figures- both tall, one slender and the other jacked up- walked in a sexy slo-mo as the club started another track.

So this money shit, yeah it's been on my mind

Fuck ya possy bitch

I'ma pop off a tonne with the tummy miss

Yea this how I slum I'm bout' to see some tits

Yea ya mummy is fine

Aye

The boys walked into the neon-grazed club glowing with a hue of red, their freshly shampooed hair bouncing with every step till these two stopped right when they entered the floor, scanning the club and the club doing the same to them, but with lost breaths, increased temperatures and some very dirty thoughts and very dirty moans.

I'm a good boy I don't hit no licks yeah

I'm a bad boy flexing with some chicks yuh

I'm a weird boy smokin' on some Brits yuh

Who dat boi

I'm that boy yuh

The slo-mo continued, recording every pair of eyes that turned to get a look at the brothers whose presence was electrifying the entire building. Ladies forgot their drinks and men, men forgot their dates and- with a swift internal jolt- their toxic masculinity and the genderless seemed to have found Gods in the club tonight.

We them bad boy come give baby kiss

We just dropped it now

Now the swallow kiss

Have to beg these ladies try to do the splits

Tryna get the boy to do the coochie little

People moved as if these Gods were gravity, walking under those flickering club lights and smoked room, hands trying to get a touch, eyes wanting to get just one sweet stare, legs wanting to get a little brush, the heat pooling inside them looking for just a little satisfaction.

Yea I'm Neo watch me on the Matrix

All these sussy boy I just implore I do not play with

Baby (Baby) sure you're crazy

Boy that gave me 8 bars and some new restraint

Who that boi

I'm that boi yuh

The blond locks seemed to find suggestive fingers in them, while some other stray ones roamed on Thor's chest. Loki watched his brother being surrounded with the crowd of thirsty thots, his face dripping with pure displeasure, letting the camera catch it frame by frame, with brilliant tilts, doing it till Loki was looking right at the lens.

Who that boi

I'm that boi yuh

Another camera standing a little further recorded Javier on his knees trying to catch Loki's displeasure and piercing eyes- at anyone who even suggested that they wanted to touch him- before he looked at Javier. "What are you doing?" Loki judged Javiers' slow camera tilts.

Javier raised his index finger for a few moments, still recording those sour expressions before giving a thumbs up, getting up and walking towards the crowd that had surrounded a quite flattered Thor.

With an eye roll in his brother's direction, Loki turned to find the other camera looking at him, quite possibly directing him somewhere else because the next moment he was looking away. The camera turned in the same direction to show- behind the crowd of mellow, drunk and horny people- you laughing with your head tilted backwards, sitting with a group of men he had seen in the report when he was forced by Thor to come on this stupid so-called mission with him.

You sat between four men, enthusiastically narrating something to your small audience with wide eyes and wildly moving arms, entertaining the viewers with intention known to them and these green eyes who could see right through every one of those scums.

The camera- swivelling between you and Loki- caught him walking towards you only to be stopped by a pale hand- carrying beautifully manicured nails in blood-red- landing on his chest.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Natasha suggested to the God with a bare hint of a smile on her lips.

Loki looked down at the Black Widow dressed in a body-hugging black dress. "Oh, I wasn't going to stop her from having some fun, I assure you," he implored.

Natasha brought her hand forward for Loki to take the earpiece in her hand. "She's got this. But you're welcome to listen in on the conversation," Natasha offered.

"My brother can fill in for me considering Y/N is already doing his job," he mentioned, pointing towards the crowd taking selfies with a giddy Thor making girls swoon all around him.

"Hot molten chocolate cake!" came a voice from the earpiece, loud enough for Loki sensitive ears and the recorders in all the devices to catch before the God could walk away.

"That's the safe word," Natasha declared into the earpiece, before turning to look at the table where you were.

"I really should go," you colourfully begged the man who had his hand wrapped around your arm, never letting go, "my girls must be waiting for me."

"Call your girls," the man holding you said, "we can all party in the private room upstairs."

"Call my girls?" you said a little louder as if asking Natasha what to do.

"On it." Loki heard another voice come through the comms, making Natasha's tensed back go straight.

"It's okay, Y/N," she confirmed into your earpiece, "go ahead. Tell them the girls can't wait."

The camera caught Natasha turning with a smirk that sent a cold shiver over the glowing dance floor, making Loki mirror that smirk, looking forward to it all.

The enthusiasm in Natasha's face was disturbed by some invisible ripple. "Where's Thor?"

 Other Side of the Club

Javier's camera showed the blond God sitting at the bar with at least twenty ladies huddled with him, handing him drinks.

"Now this one," a petite little girl stated, handing him a tall glass of Long Island Iced Tea. Thor happily took the glass, had a decent sip, gulped it down, furrowed his brows and smacked his lips.

"No," he finally declared, earning a cheer from the girls. "Not laced!" they shouted before handing him another girl's drink.

.

Upstairs

The camera stuck to the corners as it followed the men violating your private space, their arms around you, walking in front of and behind you, leaving no space whatsoever to look for any signs of the cavalry.

"Woah, guys, how about you go in and I'll go look for my sisters-"

"Oh, no," the one with a stubble and a nice jawline declared, "you're coming with us and your friends can follow. Come on, let's get some more alcohol in you!"

"Haha, yeah!" you pretended to cheer, stepping inside the room behind the guy with a ponytail, who stood in the middle of the living room like a statue for a good second.

"What the hell is this?" He announced more than he asked, pointing to Anna- the camera girl- sitting at the other end of the room, recording the entrance.

"Oh," you exclaimed in realisation, making all four men turn towards you, never noticing the door be closed by another figure in the room, "that's my camera gal. She follows me everywhere. My dad kinda got into this idea of making a documentary out of our lives so one of them is always around me except for when I'm studying or in the bathroom. But I have seen them recording me once or twice when I was in the librar-"

"Shut up!" The jawline guy roared, taking out a gun from his back, "Shut the f*** up! Rory, I told you she was a student. She'll fetch a good price on the market."

You wanted to be frightened by that gun but the camera caught you more in offended disbelief than in fearful shock. "Excuse me? How old do you think I am? Just because I'm studying, you little-minded bitch?! Learning has no age limit, you arrogant paedophiles!"

"Oh well," Jaw-guy shrugged, taking off his jacket, "you're no use to the bosses then. Looks like we'll have to make use of you. And your pretty friend there can record us doing it." He grinned, both at you and then at the camera.

Ponytails looked at you with a wrinkled forehead. "Something's wrong," he stated, taking a step close to you.

"What do you mean?" The guy in the brown leather jacket asked.

"Look at her," he answered, pointing towards you, "she isn't even sweating right now."

You looked at Ponytails with furrowed brows. "You've set the temperature quite low, dude. I'm practically shivering in here."

"That's actually true," Jacket acknowledged, nodding at you.

"No, you dumb fuckers! She isn't scared!"

Jaw had a moment of realisation at Pony's words, taking hurried steps towards you, grabbing you by your throat and pushing you into the wall behind you.

"Oh my Gaahd," you tried to exclaim through whatever air was able to pass through your lungs, as you felt your hand automatically go grab the one that was causing you pain.

"Who are you?" Jaw hissed through his teeth close to your face. "Who do you work for?"

Your brows lifted. An aching moan left your lungs. You took in a little gulp of air. "I never thought this is how it goes down."

"That's because you picked the wrong men to mess with, darlin'."

Your raised brows crinkled at Jaw's statement. "What?"

You: Oh, I was thinking about the horny wave I got when he tried to choke me. *stretches the corner of her mouth in embarrassment* Yeah, turns out not the first thought that should come to your mind when someone's trying to kill you. But on the bright side I discovered a kink so *does a thumb up with both hands with a big grin.*

"But we haven't even started messing with you boys yet."

The camera swirled from your agitated, flushed face to the doorway leading to the bedroom, catching a very disinterested Wanda leaning on the wall as she checked out her nails.

"Wow," you choked, "were you always this hot, Wanda?"

"Who the fuck is this? Who the fuck are you?" Ponytails pointed his gun at the Scarlet Witch in haste, bringing forth a plasmic red spark in between her fingers, which, with a little twist, made the man point his gun at his buddy.

Another camera entered through the door to catch Jaw pulling you away from the wall to hold you in a lock with his gun pointed to your head. "One wrong move and I blow her brains out, bitch."

"One wrong move and I'll be doing the same to you, bitch."

Natasha stood behind Jaw with a gun. "Let go of her before my friend and I paint these walls with your insides."

Jaw cursed her under his breath, taking a few moments before releasing you. You quickly walked to a safer corner of the room, next to the fireplace, breathing with ease now.

"Y/N," she called out, "you okay, sweetie?"

"Uhh...just a little light-headed. Otherwise, I'm good," you responded, finding yourself lowering your voice, "though I wish someone else was choking me right now." You looked at the camera and narrowed your eyes. "Don't you judge me," you criticised in a whisper at it, feeling yourself tilt to one side, losing your balance, already fearing to hit the floor before being caught by strong hands.

"Oh," you sang while the camera panned out from you and those pale hands to show Loki very gracefully breaking your fall, "Hey, handsome!"

Loki didn't even blink as he tried to bring you back on your feet. "Drinking on a mission? Really? I thought you were better than this."

"Ugh," you bleched at him, "shush! I was in my form with those gin shots, okay. These whiney thirsty boys were blabbering the moment I sat down. Let's see your brother pull that off-wait. Why are you here?"

The two of you were oblivious to the fight going in the background being recorded by the other camera; the Black Widow breaking bones like twigs while the Scarlet Witch was making them vomit on their fears.

"Oh, I wanted to see what petty excuse do you humans use to enjoy and forget this pathetic world-"

The camera panned in on you while someone outside the frame screamed and was thrown into a wall. You smiled with pure emotion in your eyes while looking at Loki.

"You didn't know we were here, did you?" you asked with that smile still stuck on your face.

"No."

"Thor dragged you here, didn't he?"

"I came here by my own accord."

"What did he blackmail you with this time?"

"...I wasn't blackmailed! No one can blackmail m-"

Loki: Tony said he'd block my access to his library. *clenches his teeth* That old rusty metalhead.

"Fine if you don't wanna tell me. I'm just glad you came," you pointed, patting him on his chest, completely missing the knife flying towards you being blocked by his reflexes- nothing having been displaced but for his arm.

"Wow," you gasped, letting your hand touch his chest again, "what do you have under there? Rocks? How the heck is your chest so hard?"

"I'm a frost giant darling," he asserted, twirling the knife in his hand before throwing it forward without looking, landing right on Leather Jacket's hand about to pull the trigger and shoot Wanda.

"And I'm a human. What's your point? Why are your boobies so hard and mine so squishy? Look!"

You took his hand to make him feel your chest. "Okay," he cut you short before you could forcibly make him grope you.

"You are clearly running on alcohol right now."

You snorted. "No, dummy. I'm standing. Are you sure you're not the drunk one?"

Loki looked at the camera.

.

"I'm sorry," you whined.

The camera caught your figure partially as you hid behind Loki in the compound elevator while Wanda and Natasha stood on either side.

"Don't worry," Natasha reiterated, "we'll take care of it. Just don't tell Tony about the..." she waved her hand in the air like it meant something to you.

The ding announced your arrival to the lounge. Elevator doors opened to see Tony standing at the entrance with crossed arms, his eyes boring straight into everyone in front of him, not even bothering to blink.

Behind him Scott and Bucky sat on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn and Home Alone on the big screen, their eyes and ears focused on all of you rather than the movie.

An everlasting moment of silence passed and you managed to get a look of those eyes of judgement over Loki's shoulder before quickly curling back into your hiding spot.

"Where were you?"

The room didn't even have time to register the chill when you heard Natasha speaking. "Wanda and I were out shopping. I don't know about these two," she announced with her hands raised, walking out while mouthing 'sorry' at your face that had just experienced third-tier betrayal.

"I suggest you come out from behind Aro here," Tony digressed, "he's not gonna hide you for the rest of your life."

Loki took a step out of the elevator, getting a little closer to Stark, towering him just a little, his hands resting in his pockets. Stark was visibly hating the suave play from the God.

You were stuck there for a few more seconds before stepping beside Loki, letting the camera capture the wide eyes, a gasp of shattering shock and the fumes dissipating to give place to something new.

Panning in on you, the camera caught the bruise growing on your cheek, the size of a pear.

"Y/N-" Stark had barely begun to address his horror when Loki cut him short.

"She’s fine, Stark. Just a little-"

"Who did this?!"

That erupting gaze was meant for you to answer the question and so the entire surrounding went silent for you to answer him. Even Home Alone was muted to hear what you had to say for this bruise.

"Mr Stark, I can explain." Your voice was a quarter of what it was half an hour ago, barely coming out in front of your father. "Please don't be mad. And please keep an open mind about it."

None of you could gather what rushed into Tony's mind because the next thing you knew, he felt himself shift back a little. Curse words flew under his breath as his hands tried to run over the tensed muscles in his face.

"Oh, my G-is this some sort of new...new thing you kids are into?"

Now it was your turn to be confused. "What?"

You: *cringe* Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew! Get it out of my head! Ew!!

"N-No! I-what?! Nooooooo!" you stressed at the word as much as possible. The God stood there seemingly trying to make sense of this conversation.

"Loki and I were out on a date. We were karaoke-ing and I was dancing on the bar counter when I slipped and hit myself."

Loki did not miss even a second to look at the camera with pursed lips.

Loki: That's not what happened.

 Flashback to the club

You forced Loki on the dancefloor while Natasha took care of the goons.

"Come on, show me your mooooves, Loki," you shouted over the music before giddily jumping and taking a step back, colliding with a guy.

"Oh, I'm so-"

"What the f***!" The pasty blond guy cursed at you before looking at Loki. "Take care of your bitch, asshole."

Before Loki could take a stance between the two of you, he felt your hand block him, your eyes glowing at that rude stranger.

"Who the f*** are you calling, asshole, you dried pulp-less raisin!"

The guy twisted his jaw before stepping very close to you.

Loki- clearly uncomfortable by the distance- tried to pull you towards him and away from that pathetic excuse of a human

"Alright," the God announced, "you better watch-"

The camera caught the full-blown emotion of offence on Loki's face as you swatted his hands away.

"I called. Your boyfriend. An asshole. You c***."

Loki blinked in a sense of amusement at the audacity of that man, the ripples of tensed muscles under his black t-shirt quite visible for the ones who watched.

"At least I can take a pounding unlike your ego, you smelly ballsack," you spat back. "Now walk away before I bring a mirror and show you what a real asshole looks like." The infant rage that Loki was carrying in his entire body suddenly screeched to a halt as he looked at the back of your head with shocked confusion. "What kind of insult was that?"

The pasty guy was fuming now. Your words clearly rubbing him the wrong way.

"Oh, what happened?" you sang in a sarcasm filled tone. "Did your boring comebacks turn flaccid? Just like your virgin d-"

He pushed you back. "Shut the fuck up before I make you shut up."

Loki body stood as a shield- only behind you- wanting to go ahead and do something to that guy but you were not giving him a chance to do so.

You gasped. "The audacity of this bitch!" And pushed him back. "What're gonna do, fight me?"

No one saw it coming. The punch landed on your face within seconds, pushing your back into Loki's chest, the latter having to grab you to stop you from falling.

"Okay, that's it," Loki pulled you up, his eyes on fire glaring right at the man with the intention to kill. And as his luck for the night would have it, you used him as a support to gather a bit potential, scream "Son of a-" while charging at the guy. By now the rest of the ladies on the dancefloor had witnessed enough to come to your aid and beat the living hell out of that man. Pure, chaotic energy spreading over the floor that reflected in the pleasant amusement in Loki's eyes.

"By the Norns," Loki whispered, looking at the scene unfolding in front of him before looking at the camera, "remind me never to get on Y/N's bad side."

The pasty guy screamed out of the frame, making Loki turn at him with a layer of disappointment.

"Oh, you asked for it," he shouted at the man screaming for help before being swallowed whole by the river of women.

 You: *sighs* Of course, I can't tell Mr Stark I got punched while defending your honour.

Loki: *giggle snorts*

You: *turns to look at him* what?

Loki: You're right. I can see him never believing that.

You: *nodding in agreement* right?

Loki: Because he would cut my head off the day he does. *stops smiling*

You: Aw! I won't let him, buddy.

Loki: Oh, I doubt it. He is still in shock about the whole 'date' thing.

The camera flips to the lounge showing Stark sitting in between Scott and Bucky, looking in the distance- still in shock- while those two munched on their popcorns from the popcorn bowl kept in Tony's lap.

"Nah." he finally says out of the blue, almost making Scott jump, "Y/N can't date Loki? I'm sure she's just pulling my leg for not letting her go on that stupid interrogation mission."

Scott and Bucky exchanged glances before nodding and patting him on the back, resuming their movie with a 'sure buddy'.

You: *sheepishly* Yeah, I think we broke him.

Loki: At least he's behaving like he's supposed to, unlike my brother in such situations.

You: Huh...*nods* *furrows brows* speaking of Thor...where is he?

Loki:

You:

 The Club-a-Dub-Dub

The camera captured a face covered by flickering neon pink shades looking down at a laptop in those big hands while glowing neon party necklaces adorned his neck.

"All right let's do this," Thor stated in all seriousness, using a pink tic-tac to pull his hair up above his ear. The camera zoomed out a little to show him looking at a laptop placed in front of him on a pedestal.

"We are gathered here for a task that is too important for this world to be left to another time. A task so huge that my heart feels both burdened and honoured to be able to put it to fruition. A task so pure in its being that anyone who stands up against it in this club shall face my wrath. But not before I try to make them change their mind with love. Rosa and Gina, I ask you to step forward and be the blessed lot of this sacred ceremony."

The slow panning out of the frame showed two beautiful women step forward and face each other with pure smiles.

"By the power vested in me by becomeaminister.com, I am honoured to announce you wife and wife. You may now kiss."

An uproar of elated excitement filled the club just as Thor finished; the brides kissing and their friends celebrating. Everyone toasted to the newlywed couple before someone shouted to do the cha-cha slide.

The next thing you know, Thor and the rest of the people in the house were sliding left and right.

"THIS IS SO MUCH FUN!!!!" Thor shouted with the jumps and twists, "I DON'T EVEN REMEMBER WHY I'D COME HERE!!"

[jbbuckybarnes]

Did the right thing

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Desc: This is for @captain-kelli​‘s #captainkelli500fam writing challenge. Prompt: Nightmare - Halsey Warnings: ANGST, bad ending, emotional abuse, body image issues

M A S T E R L I S T

“She’s fighting with that knife like she’s a four year old with a butterknife.” you heard behind you. “I’d rather be average than fuck up the entirety of the US history by being a weak little bitch for Hydra.” you hissed back and that hit. And not softly. Just like his words.

I gotta recognize the weapon in my mind They talk shit, but I love it every time

It just looked shitty. Everything looked shitty. Why was this damn suit making you feel like you weren’t working out over an hour every single day? Why did Natasha and Sharon always look so good in their suits and you just ended up feeling like you didn’t even belong in your line of work? The suit landed in the closet and you silently crying on your bed.

Stared in the mirror and punched it to shatters Collected the pieces and picked out a dagger I've pinched my skin in between my two fingers And wished I could cut some parts off with some scissors

“Why so monotone? Smile a little.” you heard for the fivehundredth time that month at an event. “How about you fucking off and letting me smile whenever I want, which is not now cause I have to keep up with your bullshit.” you growled. “Oh, c’mon.” “I don’t owe you a goddamn thing!” you punched him against his sternum, the only sure fire way to shut him up.

"Come on, little lady, give us a smile" No, I ain't got nothin' to smile about I got no one to smile for, I waited a while for A moment to say I don't owe you a goddamn thing

“I let you speak once you give me a damn break with your emasculated bullshit. Drop it, Barnes!” you hissed. “You wanna fight me so you can get all that aggression out or does little miss need to be put through the mattress to get her senses back?” he mocked you. You grabbed his throat, “Listen up, asshole. You either stop being the human version of shit or I’ll make your life here a nightmare.”

No, I won't smile, but I'll show you my teeth And I'ma let you speak if you just let me breathe I've been polite, but won't be caught dead Lettin' a man tell me what I should do with my bed

“How does this feel? What was that about me being bad at this?” you panted into his ear with a knife to his throat in fighting practice. “Not gonna lie, kinda hot, kinda hot. I only say that to push you on. I hope you know that” “It doesn’t push me on, it’s just you living out some toxic masculinity you can’t hold back.”

But I'd rather be a real nightmare, than die unaware

“Listen, I’m sorry. I’ll do better. I will, I promise, please don’t leave the team.” “You should’ve made that decision before I made mine.” you eyed him indifferent. “C’mon, please,” he frowned, “It wouldn’t be the same without you.” “Yeah, it wouldn’t,” you handed him half of the knives you got while being with the team.

“I’d literally do anything for you to stay.” he pleaded losing his hard shell. “No, thanks.” you went on about packing your things. “You want me begging on my knees? I will. I’m not kidding, I’m gonna do it right now if it’s necessary.” “Nope.” you handed him your SHIELD and Avengers batch. “Fuck, no no no, please-” he held the door close. “Bucky, the damage is done, you can’t reverse that.” “You didn’t give me the-” “I gave you a chance for the last three months by calling you out repeatedly. Some actions have consequences. Good. Bye.” you ripped open the door and left with your duffle bag of important things. Not planning on coming back.

I'm no sweet dream, but I'm a hell of a night

“Fuck!” // “You did the right thing.” “What have I done?” // “You did the right thing.” “I love her.” // “And I loved him.”

[tarithenurse]

Girl Power Challenge

Pairing: Thor x fem!reader Content: Heavy on the tropes (haters to lovers, denial); mission; cursing; sass; humour; degrading comments; mentions of drinking; pure, filthy smut with dom/sub-inclinations. A/N: My one-shot contribution to @captain-kelli​ ‘s 500 challenge, based on a dialog prompt (bold) and a sprinkling of Thor. I hope it’s alright ;) Huge thanks to my lovely friend maladaptive-ninja-returns for betaing this one.

Stronger

No vocabulary contained the swear words you needed so desperately at that moment. A few interesting options had already passed your lips as you worked through the crumbling building, using your skill to move aside blocks of concrete as though they were tumbleweed to get to survivors. One by one, you had tunneled towards the poor victims, shaping the earth and debris to prevent any collapses, and you had actually been thrilled when you sensed the vibrations of Iron Man landing to take a dirty, shaking body from your arms.

Despair diffused into hope while you worked side by side with the Avengers.

Then the oaf showed up, tossing slabs off concrete out of the way without any consideration to the balance of the ruins.

It happened fast, almost too fast for the movement to register through your feet into your legs. Lunging forward, you managed to grab the kid you had been working towards with one hand while maintaining a thin, wobbly pillar (once the corner of the building) beneath yourself while the rest fell away. Dust and embers billowed. Your heart hammered in the throat. The rumble managed to drown out the kid’s frightened scream. Out of the raging darkness, Stark appeared just in time to grab the poor child as the dirty fingers started to slip through the strained grip – then they were gone and you could focus on your own predicament. Tired and pissed off, you would have a hard time shaping the concrete according to your will (earth would have been preferable due to the malleability).

Then the air crackled, making the little hairs stand on end. Or maybe it was simply the anger simmering from the anticipation of what was to come: a big, strong, blond oaf in a red cloak propelling himself upwards and past you yet somehow still managing to snare an arm around your waist and swish you away.

No language in the universe held the curses you needed. It might have been a hint for Thor if he had noticed how the remainder of the building crushed into itself, becoming no more than dust. He didn’t. He was too busy looking smug, a beaming smile aimed towards you even before he landed with a tooth rattling jolt.

“Fear not, fair lady,” he rumbled with more pride than you could stand, “nothing shall harm you now.”

No restraint could contain the cold words slithering off your lips. “Who asked you to intervene?”

“I…beg you pardon?” Oh, the confusion in those electric-blue eyes was perfect.

“You think you have to rescue me?!” Forcibly wriggling out of his arms, it was wonderful to have steady ground beneath your feet. “You think I can’t take care of myself?!”

He was not off the hook yet, oh no. Not once did the Asgardian God of Thunder get a proper word in as defense while you chewed him out. The only reason you eventually stopped was because Stark came over, dragging you away with the promise of a spa treatment and a party – who in their right mind would say no to that?

…   …

The party had been a small celebration with those involved in the day’s heroing: dinner at a local diner followed by drinks at a bar that Stark rented for the evening, but despite the “free” drinks and cute bartenders the Avengers eventually went back to the Tower, dragging you along with them. Were you supposed to have said no? Maybe. But of course you didn’t.

Staying away from Thor, you still managed to have a great time and had no issues ignoring the sulking glances the blond brute sent you from across the room. Drink in hand, you allowed yourself to be sweettalked into some fun and games by Natasha.

…

Who knew that superheroes amuse themselves by something as simple as “Truth or Dare”? To be honest, so far it has been hilarious (especially when Sam tried to minimize the damage he’d done to his reputation after a truth-question).

“Dare,” Thor proclaims with confidence as he stares down the redhead next to you.

A smile curls Natasha’s lips and if you had been on the receiving end then you would be scared. Thor, of course, is not.

“Kiss the person you’ve known the longest and the one you’ve known the shortest.”

There’s a beat of silence where Thor’s eyes flicker in your direction, but the tension is averted by Stark practically throwing himself at the Asgardian in anticipation of what’s to come. Two people don’t participate in the ruckus cheering filling the room: Natasha, who is leering at you…and you, who leans comfortably into the plush pillows, a leg dangling over the other to allow the foot to wiggle along to the beat of the music. Think murder, you tell yourself before meeting her gaze. Steady. Unwavering.

“So…” Your face is a perfect mask of calm innocence. “What’s the punishment when he fails?” Not if.

Although the words have been quiet, they manage to silence the room. Already, people are getting ideas as Thor recover from the first part of the Dare, his mind now also struggling with the suggestion that he, the Mighty Prince Thor of Asgard, should possibly fail.

“Oh! I know!” It might be Bruce piping up for once…or Stark if he has returned from his private heaven. “Thor’ll have to leave Mjølnir behind for research when he returns to Asgard.”

A collective “oooh” rushes through the group, undoubtedly fueled further by the blond idiot’s reaction. Perfect. He’s struggling to keep composure, nerves thrumming through his body - only finding an outlet through the punishing grasp that is threatening to tear off the armrest of the chair, and the curling of toes inside the big boots. But you? A tiny smirk tickles the corner of your mouth as you wait for the inevitable.

“Well, what a-are we waiting for?” Thor smiles falter when you do nothing but sip from the drink. “Surely, you cannot truly detest me…”

Oh, no? The slowest of looks from under your lashes tells him otherwise. Whether he has understood what he did wrong or not, it’s evident he realizes what is at stake at this moment while you have the perfect opportunity to teach him a lesson for making a situation worse by running in like a driverless bulldozer.

“What’s this?” you drawl playfully, “need me to…save…you?”

Electricity sparkles in his eyes and you know the words hit the right spot, but then he blinks and it is gone, leaving behind a man in the place of a god. “Yes. Please…save me.”

You know the others must be confused, unsure of what to make of the untamed rivalry between the two of you. Frankly, the scene has taken a turn you didn’t expect either. It’s just that…backing down isn’t an option anymore. Pushing away the knowledge of their presence, you focus on Thor and your nails.

“Funny thing, knowin’ someone wants to be rescued. Really enables a certain drive, y’know? A need to do it right and not endanger other people by rushing in like a bumbling oaf…dontcha agree?”

“Uhm…”

“Soooo…the plan’s to save you…or Mjølnir…by kissing you?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve seen rocks I’d rather kiss.”

Somewhere, in the world you’ve chosen to ignore for the moment, there are shouts and jeering. Right in front of you is a tall, muscly god with arms crossed as he towers above you. Glaring. Finally letting go of the confusion as your last insult chips away the patience he has cultivated. He doesn’t budge when you stand, chest brushing against his wiry lower arms, and the temptation to stand on the couch becomes nearly overwhelming.

“I’m no rock,” he growls, “unlike your heart.” There’s a gasp from somewhere behind the Asgardian (it distinctly sounds like the word “burn”), quickly followed by shushing. “Though…mayhaps your cold façade serves to keep yourself protected from feeling any love?”

“Nice try…but no.” The last dredges of your drink flows easily over your tongue. Time for a refill. “Now, excuse me.”

Thor allows you to pass and get all the way to the bar counter where you deposit the empty glass before he calls out to you. “I did not take you for a coward, lady [Y/N].”

“I’m not.”

“Yet you dare not share a kiss.”

You’ve frozen to the spot, back still turned to the group and hand on the fridge. I can say no…I can say no…I can…not. Nope. Not gonna chicken out. Slowly turning, it’s all too evident that everyone is holding their breath in anticipation. Some are praying for a chance to study the bloody hammer while others just want some ammunition to pester either Thor or maybe you with for at least the rest of the night.

“Now that’s a low blow, mister.” He is in trouble and the way you walk back to face him shows it. “Let’s see what you got, then.”

He delivers.

A hand cradling your neck, and arm around your waist pulling you flush up against him. There’s a brief second where your entire vision is filled by the electricity crackling in his blue eyes before his lips are upon you. Surprisingly gentle, they slot onto your mouth with ease and you’re done for. The combination of his beard prickling your upper lip and chin is the perfect contrast to the molten heat parting your lips with a sweep of his tongue to deepen the kiss. You forget to breathe, forget to hold your eyes open and your legs steady. Instead you lean into his embrace and allow your instincts to engage in a dance you hadn’t intended to perform but don’t want out of.

You are breathless when he pulls away, hands supporting you until you have got your bearings again. Want.

“See?” By some sort of miracle, your voice isn’t reduced to a gasp. “Rocks could do better.”

Thankfully, the scientific part of the group are complaining loudly enough about the missed opportunity to move the attention from you and eventually the game continues for a few rounds. It gives you time - time where you keep pulling your gaze away from the blond god repeatedly. Sometimes, you imagine feeling the electric fire of his eyes scalding your skin, each time making you check to find him studying you unabashedly.

…

By the time the party ends, you’ve been offered to sleep over rather than make your way home. Tony has already staggered off to his room, leaving Natasha in charge of finding a bed for you a few floors below the lounge and instruct you on the little stash of spare clothes hidden behind a panel in the wall.

“Most are gonna sleep in t’morrow, so don’t worry ‘bout getting up early,” she yawns. Just before the door closes behind her, she adds, “Oh, and if you hear snoring it’s just Thor…his room’s across from this.”

I didn’t hear that.

Snooping around the room and en suite bathroom entertains you for a while and even yields rather luxurious results – the hottest shower you have ever indulged in as well as overly fluffy towels and a dark blue, silk nightshirt that reaches the middle of your thighs. The place is fit for a princess. A highly modern one, but royalty, nonetheless. Even a Prince of Asgard.

Just the thought makes a delicate sweat break out on your skin. Logic and lust battles within you, painting pictures in your mind of a strong body displayed naked before you, muscles moving like sand beneath the tan skin and a stone-grip on your thighs.

I’d be weak if I give in, you pout as you toss and turn in the enormous bed…and regret it if I don’t. Caught between a rock and a hard place there’s no rest to be found while the fire burns within. The problem is not the risk of love or hurt feelings but rather to become “just another of those girls”. The kind of chicks that sigh while waiting for Mr. Right to find them; the type of female who needs a provider and protector for whatever reason. None of those are you. Strong and independent, no one is above you. Sure, you got morals (the wish to help people and not hurt them intentionally is there), but all your life you’ve followed your dreams and aspirations, ensuring you got what you wanted.

“Why not this time?”

The darkness doesn’t answer the whisper, but perhaps that is a reply in its own right.

Yeah…I want him. I’ll have him. Slipping from under the duvet, bare feet listen to the information carried like a mumble through the concrete to guide you out of the room and across the hall where a sliver of light cuts below the door. You can feel his footsteps pacing back and forth. Is he waiting? Considering his own options?

A deep breath finds its way into your lungs in an attempt to steady your nerves. Rather than knocking, you open the door resolutely, finding the god at the far end of the room in all his naked glory including a semi-hard cock. The once-over becomes a twice-over as the door closes behind you.

“Might wanna lock when walking ‘round in your birthday suit.”

The specimen of a man doesn’t seem bothered by the intrusion or nudity but minimizes the distance between the two of you with all but a yard. “My own door was of little concern,” he rumbles, “while yours became an insurmountable obstacle from which I’ve retreated numerous times…afraid my sins were irredeemable.”

Oh really? “I…could forgive you, I guess…”

“Tell me how!” The tall man literally drops to his knees before you, large hands reaching for your hips but not daring to touch. “Your wish is my command, m’lady.”

It’s a rush to be in charge of Thor, not just due to his natural alpha-vibes or his royal title but rather because he doesn’t begrudgingly follow your instruction as you order him to get up and turn to display himself. He moves with a slow purpose, flexing his limbs lazily as you carve the sight into a memory that time never will erode. Sandy skin glistens in the dimmed light while shadows shimmy across the mountains and valleys of his muscles.

“Undress me.”

There’s not a lot of clothing to remove. Nonetheless, he extends each part of the task to the infinite, making sure not to touch your skin as each button of the silk shirt is popped to allow the cool fabric to slide off your shoulders and pool at your feet. Once more, he kneels. Calloused fingers reaching for the hem of your panties.

“Wait.” His hands stop mere millimeters away. “Before you remove them, feel free to touch me as you wish.”

Even without direct eye contact, you can sense the flicker of lightning playing in the blue of his irises – a convenient explanation to why every hair on your body stands on end when you still don’t want to admit it’s pure excitement.

His first touches are featherlight strokes up and down your thighs, curving to the back where the large palms fit so well under the ass. Fingertips tug at the thin fabric of your undies, pulling them partially below the hips so only your mound remains hidden, baring sensitive skin for Thor to lavish with subtle kisses. The first tremors dance deep within you, early warnings of an earthquake only he can set off.

The grip is much stronger, needier, when his hands frame your waist to pull you flush against his chest. Nose in navel, deep breaths inhale your scent. The smile of his lips can be felt against your abdomen, growing wider as he cups one of the breasts where his fingers stroke the peak and tweak the hardening pebble to make you gasp.

“M’lady,” he murmurs against your hip, tongue tracing the shift in your flesh to where the bundled undies hinder further advances, “please allow me…?”

“Alright.”

Barely have the words left your lips before you feel the fabric slip down, reluctantly letting go where they have soaked up the wetness between your legs already. He knows. A deep sigh escapes him, immediately followed by kisses claiming the path towards your sex.

A few inches and his lips will be on your clit.

One inch.

“Enough.” The words are more ragged than sharp as intended, but Thor accepts the command. “Get on the bed.”

You follow him closely as he scoots backwards until his head rests on the pillow. Damn. Every tensed muscle you touch could be carved from sun-heated marble. Shivers erupt from where you hands glide over his skin – all running towards the proudly erect cock which in itself is a godly masterpiece that twitches in anticipation as you straddle his thighs.

It’s so obvious, the craving in those electric eyes devouring you whole, the tremble caused by self-restraint. Waiting for the order, huh? Reaching for his hands, allowing fingers to entwine as you lean down to nibble at his throat. Sensitive nipples sweep over his chest. Each stuttering breath escaping Thor tickles your ear as your lips find their way towards his until the connection finally is made and he can steal your breath away, drinking it straight from your mouth. Hips roll, his or yours – it barely matters – but you won’t let go and allow his hands to roam. Not yet at least. Tearing away, a smile plays on your lips at the whine he utters at the lack of contact.

“So eager,” you purr, “for this?”

Not once do your eyes stray from him. Your own hands are much smaller, doing little to imitate what Thor might be able to do if he was the one to cup your breasts before a hand slides to the apex of your thighs to splay the folds and spread the glistening wetness there. Blatantly taunting him, moaning and rocking against your own touch as you expertly swirl the clit. Beneath you, the man groans and you do the same when you tweak the nipples, one after the other as the hand works. There’s a distinct sound of fabric ripping when a few of your digits enter the core.

“Please. Goddess,” the desperate man gasps, “please.”

Rolling the pelvis (and shuffling slightly forward on the knees) you drag your sobbing cunt along Thor’s shaft, the tip teasing the entrance enough for him to pout as you repeat the maneuver. So tempting. All it would take is a little lift and then a slow, breathtaking slide to bring his cock inside. To feel the width and length press ever right spot as the walls of your cunt would stretch and quiver to accommodate him.

“Show me how to treat a goddess, then.”

The mask of meek desperation crumbles in seconds, revealing a predatorial greed gleaming like sharp crystals. Rather than grab your hips and guide you until you are impaled on his cock, however, he surges up to embrace you tightly. A demanding mouth captures your lips, stealing your senses by the flexing sweeps of a tongue matched by bites. When Thor’s hands begin to roam, you find yourself unable to do anything but hold on to him, nails digging into the muscly back, as your body grinds against him with a will of its own.

You’re vaguely aware of the room turning around you and the firm softness of a mattress against your back, but nothing truly stands clear until the nibbling kisses and licks travel down your body. Clavicle and shoulders, breasts where each hypersensitive nipple is treated heavenly before Thor proceeds across the expanse of your stomach.

He uses every part of his body to tease you: his voice sends vibrations into your very soul, the press of him is deliciously insistent between your legs, his reddish beard a devilish contrast to the sweetness of his lips, and his hands…oh god…his hands are everywhere. Pinching, massaging, stroking.

“O-ah!” The sound slips out of you in whimper.

Thor is paying full attention to your clit, licking broad stripes all along the folds before spelling out the alphab- wait. Each flick of his tongue does trace a letter around the tight bundle of nerves, but they aren’t random instead spelling out your name before a broad lick starts it all over until your toes curl and legs shake from the approaching orgasm and your moans have changed to keening cries for more.

In a flurry, the strong man sits back, hauling you along to ensure your legs are clenching his flanks firmly and his cock breaching the entrance to your core. Strong hands under your ass is holding you steady, allowing you to look down upon his face where your juices glisten in the beard.

“A word from your…lips is a law…in my…life,” he gasps just as eager as you.

“Give me ev’rything.”

The muscles shiver under the Asgardian’s skin from holding back as he impales you slowly. Your back arches. Your walls flutter and squeeze in a pulsating rhythm, soon matched by Thor’s thrusts and pulls at your hips the moment he shifts the hold on you. Deep, dragged out movements hitting all the right spots within and outside of your core.

No metaphor covers the sensation as you cum, riding Thor’s cock as you sit in his lap. Maybe an earthquake, a landslide that sends you flying into a void containing nothing but the two of you, his arms holding you while your body relents control in favour of unbridled euphoria. And just as it feels as though the orgasm wanes, the man’s thrusts stutter and a tingle of electricity runs through your core bringing you to a new peak together with Thor.

Breath by shuddering breath, you descend from the high wrapped in each others’ arms while foreheads rest against each other. Eventually you reach between your bodies, holding in his cum as he slips out and lies you down on the bed.

“Don’t leave, [Y/N],” he asks from the place beside you.

How could I? “Just let me freshen up.”

…

Cleaned up and watered, you’re back in Thor’s bed, allowing him to tug you closer.

“My lady…if this be the punishment for my wrongs then I may have to interfere more often…”

Hmmm…potential. “I’m imaginative,” you laugh, “so stay sharp.”

“As you wish, my queen.”

[marvel-redemption-omega]

No Need To Fear, The Ladies Are Here

A/N: This is my submission for @captain-kelli ’s 500 Fam Writing Challenge! I had so much fun writing this despite the mini panic attack I had when I thought it was due on the 1st…. and it varies greatly from my usual song prompt stories! I love doing song fics but I usually get too far gone with writing. It was nice to be able to step back and try a different style of writing. I hope you enjoy hun! Everyone else, please enjoy and remember that feedback and reblogs are much appreciated! And as always, this is beta’d by my babe: @kelseydactyl --Thank you for putting up with my delays and bouncing from story to story! I love you bby! <3

My Prompt: Salute by Little Mix (used in a couple parts, bolded and italicized for main use, italicized for the rest)

Word Count: 6158

Warnings: Cursing, mild violence, mentions of death/dead bodies

Pairing: Sam x F!Reader; Everyone x F!Reader (platonic)

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrat!

Rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-ta-tat!

Zpppfting! Ziow!

Zpppfftiiiiing! Ziow ziow!

Brrrrrrrrrating!

Bullets rained around everyone; ricocheting off the metal sheets lining the sides of the walkways overhead, metal walls, and large, metal shipping crates scattered around the lower level.

Muffled swearing came across the comms. You quickly ducked behind a corner and glanced up to where Nat and Sharon were above on the walkway; meeting the red-head’s gaze, she nodded and took out the guy standing between you and the doorway. Sharon had her back to Natasha’s and stepped away from her as she pulled the trigger, dropping another agent.

“Y/n, take Loki and go as far as you can. We’ll meet you two once we finish cleaning up here,” Wanda’s calm voice came over the earpiece. Adjusting the M4A1 to a more comfortable grip, you nodded knowing full well she couldn’t see you.

“Copy that. Moving in with Lady Loki,” you shouted back over comms and moved towards the entryway, not bothering to spare a glance when you felt someone behind you. “Ready to kick some Hydra ass?”

“Always ready to torture those who aren’t me who do harm to my dumb brother,” Loki replied with a devious smirk. You snorted a scoff and motioned for her to cover you. Loki snapped and a force field materialized around you as you moved back out into the bullet shower. She tossed knives at two snipers when they popped their heads from behind their cover to survey the area. You nodded your thanks and gave her a smile.

“Do you think anyone’s coming?”

“Do you think anyone’s coming?” Mocked Tony, voice a pitch too high and snarky as ever. “Don’t be stupid, Steve. Pepper knows I wouldn’t miss date night. Not to mention Peter was supposed to come by but he’s here too. Pep probably has Nat and Y/n looking for us if they aren’t already here.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and leveled a glare at Tony. The billionaire matched his pose and raised his brows, waiting for a challenge. Steve sighed and relaxed his posture after a moment, though he kept his arms crossed.

He leaned against the wall, chin resting on his chest. The cells were silent amongst the men after the brief exchange, sighs and groans of frustration and irritation being the only sounds heard aside from leaking pipes and constant dripping water.

“Pepper, what’s the status of the entrance?”

“Looks like Wanda, Okoye, Carol and I took care of everyone. Wanda’s coming in to help you and do an interior sweep. I’ll stay out here with Okoye and Carol to make sure everything stays secure,” came the reply.

“Mrs. Stark, the Van Dyne woman has reached the central control room and secured it, though she reports she could use some back up,” Friday relayed to Pepper.

“Gamora, Nebula, you guys get that from Friday?” Pepper called and lowered herself by the only accessible entrance to the abandoned warehouse. The facepiece separated and folded back as she made eye contact with the Wakandan warrior and blessed-by-an-Infinity-Stone pilot, giving a small nod of appreciation.

“Yeah, en route,” Gamora answered.

“Are we sure the girls are looking for us? I mean, what if they are finally relieved not to have to put up with us anymore?” Peter paced his cell and smacked the heel of his hand to his forehead. “I haven’t wooed this Gamora to fall for me yet!”

“Quit your whining would you? It’s annoying,” Bucky grumbled, shifting on the cell floor, glancing at his left shoulder. A sigh left him and he closed his eyes. “How the hell did we get in this situation?”

“Because you weren’t paying attention and were the first to get knocked out,” Sam snarked at him. When kicked-puppy blue eyes met his brown ones, he swallowed thickly and nodded. “Right, sorry, Buck. Look,” he lowered his voice and moved to sit with his back to Bucky’s, despite the cell bars separating them, “this is on all of us. We all rushed in without having the proper knowledge on what we were getting into. It’s not any one person’s fault. We’re all to blame here, alright?” Bucky glanced over his shoulder and smiled at Sam, nudging him with his right shoulder.

“I am Groot.”

“I know, Buddy. I’m sure they’re on their way to save us,” Rocket reassured Groot, paw on the adolescent tree’s shoulder. Thor looked at Groot and smiled, kneeling down beside him.

“Hey, don’t worry. I promise you Loki won’t let us sit here long. She’s got quite the temperament when it’s others picking on and being mean to those she loves and cares about,” he explained. Groot looked up at the Norse God and nodded, giving a soft “I am Groot” in reply.

“She? I thought Loki was your brother?” Drax inquired, head leaning back on the wall he sat against.

“Yes and no. Loki is gender-fluid.”

“I thought he was a God-human thing?”

“N-what? No. Gender-fluid means that when Loki feels more masculine, she’ll use he/him pronouns, but when she feels more feminine she will use she/her pronouns. So she doesn’t really feel solidly one gender but sometimes both or somewhere in between, in limbo kind of,” Thor tried his best to explain what Loki had once -a long time ago- explained to him. Everyone glanced at the powerless God before nodding and settling back into the uncomfortable silence.

“They have comms too, don’t they, Y/n?” Loki asked, eyes scanning the hall for anyone they might have missed. She ran her hand along the wall, pausing in wait for your answer.

“I think so, but I couldn’t tell you what channel they’re on,” you replied, M9 crossed with your flashlight as you lead her down an empty corridor that smelled of mildew. A glance to the corners where the wall meets the ceiling confirmed your suspicions of mold. You pulled a face and glanced back at Loki, admiring the black and green velvet battle dress she wore. “Why?”

“Just wondering if we could possibly find the right one and let them know we’re on our way with a plan,” her tone masked a deeper meaning but you didn’t want to push. Best to let her do what she wants and be done. She’s not hurting anyone, you reasoned with yourself.

You continued on down the seemingly endless hall until a cool hand on your shoulder stopped you. You turned to Loki, the force field dissolving from around you and appeared to dissipate at her hand.

“What? Did you find something? Someone?” You couldn’t help the hopefulness that leaked into your tone, you just wanted everyone back. She shook her head no but had a smile plastered to her face. She reached to you and fiddled with your ear piece a moment before many familiar voices came over the comms.

“Hey, Mr. Stark, Sir, do you really think they’re coming to get us? What if Mr. Quill is right? What if they are finally fed up with us and just leave us here?” The spider-boy’s anxious voice filtered in through the comms link. You breathed a sigh of relief, thankful at least one of the guys were safe, probably two if he was actually talking to Tony.

“Hey, Kid, come on. Breathe. Easy. Alright, settle down. I have no doubts that they’re coming for us. Much as we might annoy them, they love us, otherwise they wouldn’t put up with us,” Tony’s voice rang loud and clear over the ear piece. You exchanged smirks with Loki.

“Alpha, Wolf Strike, we have one way comms with our lost little soldiers. Not sure what Loki did but we’re gonna see if we can establish two way comms. Until then, switch to 7-Delta to hear them.” You called in over the comms to the rest of the team. Murmurs and whoops and cheers all deafened you for a moment and you couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled it’s way from your chest at your team.

“Wolf Strike, Command, I’ll try and hack the disabling system that’s bugging their equipment. It appears to be a simple jammer, should be simple enough. Give me 5 Mikes-10 tops,” Shuri called to you one way.

“Copy that, Command. Let me know when you get it. You have my location right?”

“Negative. Seems that whatever is jamming their comms is just in range enough to reach your tracker,” it was Hill who responded this time, furious clacking of a keyboard sounded in the background.

“I’ve got it. You go ahead and look for them. I won’t be long and you’re not alone,” Loki waved then was gone. You startled slightly at her magic display, suddenly questioning if she had ever even been there.

“Ahh, Brother. What a fine mess you seem to be in. Such a pity that it wasn't my doing though. Fortunately the craftsmanship is poor, the intellect weak, and the numbers few,” Loki walked down the cell block, tsk-ing at the use of old iron and aged cement.

“Loki! By Gods, you are here! You haven’t the faintest idea how pleased I am to see you!” Thor yelped in shock, moving to the cell door. “Our comms are shot, we’ve all lost what makes us each individuals, and we were all so worried you wouldn’t be able to find us!”

“That was your first mistake. Your second was doubting us. Now!” Your voice rang out through the men’s earpieces and their eyes lit up. Music started drifting into your ears via your comms and you couldn’t help but laugh. Leave it to Shuri to bring the music during a rescue mission. “Ladies all across the world, listen up we’re looking for recruits! If you’re with me, lemme see your hands, stand up, and salute!” you sang along softly and darted back to the corner hallway where Loki stood waiting; her apparition faded from Thor’s view on the other side of the locked metal door. His face twisted from happy to annoyed that Loki hadn’t actually been in the room.

Curse her and her stupid magic tricks, he thought with a huff.

Ba-boom!

Bucky and Sam jumped to their feet at the explosion. Bucky’s eyes wild with fear for a brief moment as memories flashed before his eyes. He shook his head and with the help of Peter, who had gotten tossed in his cell, pulled himself from his mind and readied himself for a fight. Everyone stood tense and on edge as the dust cleared.

“Miss me, Boys?” You tilted your head to the left and beamed at them, Loki walking up behind you. She rolled her eyes at your antics but slipped a key into your hand nonetheless.

“Let’s hurry. I didn’t see anyone but that doesn’t mean that they aren’t hiding out somewhere waiting to ambush us,” she hissed.

“Right. Alright, well, be prepared for the death of the king!” T’Challa raised a brow at you and crossed his arms.

“Did you just quote Scar from The Lion King?” Peter inquired as you open his and Bucky’s cell first. With a shrug and a lopsided grin you moved on to Cap and Tony while Loki broke out Thor, Strange, Vision, and the Guardians. The Wakandan King seemed to relax at the realization of your quote, courtesy of Parker, and shook his head.

“Purgatory maybe,” you sniggered and stepped up to the cell with people in it and curtly bowed your head. There were groans of protest from behind you at your reference to the Supernatural post you had shown everyone when it crossed your Tumblr dash. “King Panther,” you hummed and opened the door. T’Challa stepped out holding an unconscious Bruce, with Scott and Clint following him.

“They’ve sedated him to keep the Hulk at bay,” Clint answered your silent question, absentmindedly signing as well. “I also think some of the others have a similar serum. I saw them administering shots of a green-ish liquid into them.” He continued to sign as he spoke. You nodded and signed “thank you” back before ushering them towards Loki and continuing your investigation of the room. When you gave the all clear, Loki projected a malleable forcefield around the group as she led them back the way you two had come.

The guys all filed in line behind Loki, Thor taking over carrying Bruce, and you brought up the rear with Bucky and Sam in front of you. Between you and Loki, and the sassy comments from the rest on comms, you had given the basic escape plan to them and told them not to worry about their losses for now. It took about five minutes of reassurances from everyone that the others were fine aside from Bucky’s missing limb and some scratches, and nothing needing urgent care. Once that was done, everyone fell into a content silence, at least over comms.

“But how will you bring me Mjolnir if you cannot pick it up? Only those worthy can, and I cannot call it to me,” Thor questioned as he followed close behind Loki. She glanced at him over her shoulder and nodded to you and Peter, with whom you were in conversation with.

“Surely one of those two can do it, yeah? We’ll figure it out or you can come get it, but not until we’ve covered the grounds and cleared it out. You’re pretty useless right now,” she grinned and continued to backtrack through the halls leading back to the main entry point. It was quiet for a little longer.

“So tell me dear Brother, how did the mighty Black Panther get captured? Wakanda nonsense is that?!” Shuri chided T’Challa over comms after about ten minutes of silence. Laughter broke out from all ends at her pun and the King just groaned at his sister.

“Not right now, Shuri. Can’t this wait?” He pleaded, exhaustion seeping into his voice. “It’s bad enough I don’t have the necklace you gave me for the suit, I don’t need your chastising too. Don’t add insult to injury,” he sighed, defeated.

“You lost the necklace that contains the suit? Brother! What the hell were you thinking? It’s a good thing that not only did I program it specifically to you, but that no one else can get ahold of the Black Panther’s gifted flower!” Shuri yelled at him.

The laughter ceased and the line went silent at the berating of the King by the Princess. Everyone seemed to have the same thought, staying out of that, as they all lowered the volume or turned off their earpieces completely. It wasn’t their business what the Wakandans argued over nor was it their right to take sides. Especially not after the last time when Steve and Tony fought. Everyone remembered that.

“Hey, Loki, hold up. I think I heard something down this hall. I’m gonna go check it out. I still have that personal force field right?” You called and backtracked about three steps.

“Yes it’s still good, but don’t go alone. We haven’t scoped out anywhere else. Take someone else or wait and come back with Natasha and Pepper or something,” she suggested and halted, turning to look at you. The sound of metal buttons snapping was heard and you nodded to Sam, Bucky, and Steve.

“Come with me. You can shoot, right?” You rhetorically asked and passed them each a gun; Bucky your M9 pistol, Steve your .44 revolver, and Sam your M4A1 from your right shoulder, while you swung the Remington R4 from your left shoulder around to your hands. “I think I’m covered,” you beamed and lead the trio of soldiers down the damp hall.

“Come on, let's get out so we can get you lot patched up,” Loki heaved a sigh and touched the wall. It lit up in a bright green rune before disappearing as if nothing happened. Thor raised a brow but didn’t ask his sister why she had been marking the path with ancient Nordic runes.

“Everyone step back. I’m gonna blow the lock,” you ordered and pulled a small electronic gadget from your cargo pants pocket after shouldering her gun. Sam raised a brow and shook his head with a laugh. You pressed a couple buttons on the side and set it snug against the iron lock before pressing one more button and backing away quickly.

“Is that a variant of Tony’s repulsor from his suits?” He asked as you joined the group at the far end of the room, where you had blown off yet another door. You grinned and gave a subtle nod in his direction before covering your ears. They all followed suit.

“If it’s what I think Y/n is using, then yes it is. It’s similar, except that is a small bomb. Small and handy like a grenade but can be as explosive as ten C4 bombs if the setting is changed,” Shuri’s voice explained over the comms, music still played in the background, though it couldn’t be made out anymore.

Ba-BOOM!

You waved your hand in front of your face at the dirt and dust kicked up from the explosion. It took the guys a little longer to get reoriented with their senses, and by the time they had, you were on them with your arms full. You passed Steve his shield, Sam his wing pack, and you tugged Bucky towards the table where the rest of everyone else’s gear lay.

“Sit,” you ordered gently and waited until he was situated on it before you helped him remove the top half of his tactical gear so you could reattach his Vibranium arm. Sam and Steve collected the remaining gear while you worked silently. It took you all of five minutes to get Bucky back to being fully functional again.

“Arm up. Wiggle your fingers. Roll it. Twist it, does it feel off?” You instructed and watched to make sure nothing stuck or had been damaged.

“Thanks.” He smiled and shook his head no as he slid from the table, redressing himself while you hummed and busied yourself in double checking that Steve and Sam had collected everything. A flash of red caught your eye and you rounded to where you thought you saw it.

“What was that?” You pulled your flashlight out and shined it along the wall until the light landed on the -very dirty and wet- cloak. You recognized it immediately as Strange’s. “Oh no. You poor thing,” you cooed, as it seemed to flap anxiously, and you immediately began trying to pull the iron railway spike from the wall without ripping the cloak.

“Here. Allow me?” Steve offered and raised his shield. After a moment you nodded and stepped back, watching as the Captain wedged the shield between the wall and the spike and used it as a lever to pry the spike out. Bucky grabbed the spike as it came loose and gently pulled the cloak from the end. He tossed the spike to the side and held the soggy clump of cloth to you.

“You poor dear, let’s get you to Strange and then we’ll get you home and all cleaned up, ok?” You murmured softly to the cape and cradled it in one hand and grabbed the bag with everything else in your other. You slung the bag onto your shoulder and glanced around one last time. “Alright, looks like that’s everything. Let’s head back to the others.”

The trio had given you back your guns, Sam threatening to put them back in their holsters himself if you didn’t take them. You conceded to prevent that, at least under the circumstances, otherwise they knew you’d have taken off for them to play catch up. It was a silent walk back, though the happiness that radiated from the men was contagious and you couldn’t stop smiling if you wanted to. They seemed more relaxed and content now they had their belongings back.

It wasn’t long before you were stepping over downed soldiers and rubble and debris. You were trying to squeeze through a pile of -probably dead- Hydra agents and the wall when your knee connected with something sturdy. You let out a yelp and stumbled forward into more bodies. Sam rushed to you and helped you back to your feet as Steve and Bucky moved the pile to find what you had tripped on, or to see if it had been a survivor in hiding.

The blonde huffed and shook his head at the sight of Mjolnir resting on a guard’s chest at the bottom of the pile. Of course it wouldn’t have been knocked over or moved even with all the bodies piled on top. “Y/n,” Steve called to get your attention.

“Shit. How are we supposed to get Mjolnir back? We can’t pick it up,” you groaned inwardly at the conundrum as you glanced back over your shoulder. Steve stayed quiet as the realization of what hammer it was didn’t register with the other two.

“What do you mean? It’s just a hammer isn’t it?” Sam and Bucky asked in unison. They shot glares at the other before turning back to you and Steve. Steve chuckled and gestured to the God’s hammer.

“If you think you are worthy, then wield it,” he suggested and took a step back to watch the events unfold. You pursed your lips and joined the Captain while Sam and Bucky played Ro-Sham-Bo to see who would try to pick it up first.

“Hah!” Sam smirked, “Paper beats Rock!” With a minor adjustment of his wing pack on his back, he strutted to the table and grabbed the handle, “Watch and learn, Barnes.”

You rolled your eyes at their egos but hummed in contentment anyway. It was going to be fun watching Sam and Bucky fail to lift Thor’s hammer. There were only three people you knew could do so; Thor, himself, and Peter Parker, the Spiderling. You had opted to not embarrass yourself when everyone else was having a go at after Thanos’ end. Your eyes widened and jaw went slack as you remembered something. You turned to Steve.

“You!” you cried hysterically and pointed at him, realization dawning on you. You watched his face tinge pink and he laughed with a nod. “You just wanna see them try and fail, don’t you?” you hiss at him as Sam struggles -and fails- to even get the hammer to budge. Bucky almost doubled over in laughter.

“Maybe. Sometimes they both need to be taken down a peg or two,” he shrugged nonchalantly and watched as Bucky and Sam switched places. The second super soldier slipped his Vibranium hand through the holding strap so it rested on his wrist and gripped the handle. He flashed a smile before giving a tug to the hammer. It didn’t lift, but it did shift slightly as it had done once before with Steve. He tried again with the same results.

“Fuck, man, I don’t think we’ll be able to bring this back,” Bucky sighed and retreated to the group with a hit to his ego and his pride bruised. Sam nodded in agreement while you giggled at them. Steve sauntered up to Mjolnir and grabbed the handle.

“Or maybe,” he tugged and it moved as though it weighed nothing, “you’re just not worthy.” You groaned aloud as he quoted Thor from several years ago. He winked at you and nodded. “Let’s go, shall we?” He took the lead as you fell back into step behind him, leaving Sam and Bucky to fall in and follow. Bright green Nordic symbols lined the way and it wasn’t long before you regrouped with the whole team.

“Ladies all across the world, listen up we’re looking for recruits! If you’re with me, lemme see your hands, stand up, and salute! Get your killer heels, sneakers, pumps, or lace up your boots! Representing all the women, salute, salute!”

Steve trudges down the hall to the common room and kitchen in a worn out white tee and a pair of sweatpants. He tilts his head as the lyrics meet his ears. He hesitates before continuing into the kitchen for breakfast, deciding to skip his usual morning run.

“I’ve heard this song before, but I can’t place where?” He scrunches his face, brows furrowed as he tried his best to remember.

“Yeah. Y/n plays it all the time. It’s kind of her theme song. She always has it in her workout playlist and Shuri played it over our comms when we saved your ass just a couple weeks ago,” Nat smirks smugly from the island bar with a plate of bacon, eggs, sausage, hash browns, toast, and waffles.

“Language,” Steve startles at her voice, having not noticed her when he walked in. He gives a friendly wave and small smile before what she said registers and he scowls at her. His eyes scan the room and land on Wanda who is fixing a plate at the table, also smirking. “And you know that wasn’t our fault right?”

“Oh yeah. EVERYONE gets bad intel from time to time. Just, yanno, usually it’s not like over half the team,” your voice cuts through the song and Steve glances over to see you -making more waffles and bacon- swaying and shuffling to the song, stomping when the lyrics “lace up your boots” is said and mock saluting when “salute” is said. He shakes his head at you.

“That’s not funny. We thought the emails and intel came from Fury,” he counters and grabs a plate from the stack beside you. You raise a brow and cock your head to the side, smirk on your face.

“That is funny. I don’t recall Nick getting a gmail account,” You giggle and flip the waffle maker to evenly cook the batter through. “Or better yet, I didn’t know he was doing it differently by not making an appearance and scaring the ever-loving shit out of everyone,” you smile at the way Steve shifts uncomfortably at your cursing.

“Hey, stop making the Cap feel old, well older than he is. You know how much a lady swearing makes him feel even more out of place,” a teasing voice calls from the entrance. Natasha and Wanda smile while you try to ignore the male, but you can’t help but smile as you take out the waffle and start making another. You sense him before you feel his arms around your waist and his lips on your neck with a hushed “good morning, Beautiful” against your skin.

“Go shower then you can have waffles,” you ignore the almost inaudible cries from Sam but you only shoo him from you. “Shower or no waffles, Samuel,” you grab the hand towel from the counter, wind it up, and pop his backside with it as he finally concedes defeat. He yelps in surprise and turns to see you with the towel over your shoulder, swaying to the last few lines of “Salute”. Nat and Wanda laugh behind their hands while Steve stared in bewilderment at what just took place. Sam rolls his eyes and heads to the bathroom to shower. He passes Tony with a “good morning” said between them.

“I think you’ve managed to confuse and startle everyone with not only your cunning wit, rivaling sass, but your knack for going Captain on them,” Tony teases and grabs a plate. You glance at him and shrug, offering him the just-done waffle.

“I learned a lot in the Navy. It’s how you survive,” you respond and set everything aside and get a plate to make for Sam. “Besides, the best way to prevent someone from being condescending is to establish dominance. I do that by going Drill Sergeant,” you explain and set the plate on the table.

“Ahh yes. I remember when you first met everyone. You had them all scared out of their pants! They all snapped to attention and looked ready to salute,” the billionaire laughs at the memory. “If I recall right, that was your theme song too, the one that was just playing? I remember Happy telling F.R.I.D.A.Y. to play it when you went to spar with Natasha.”

“Oh, yeah, that reminds me--how did y’all know we were all captured?” Steve pipes up from the table. Tony raises a brow while the other females smile. You busy yourself making your own plate before answering.

“Honestly? I just knew you, Sam, and Buck were out on a mission together. Then Nick dropped in and asked where Tony was, which sparked interest in Bruce, Scott, and Strange’s whereabouts. When I didn’t have an answer, we tried to look up any info we could manage. We didn’t think anything like a hostage situation until Shuri called to see if T’Challa was here. She said that she hadn’t heard from him in a few days and the last thing she got was a notification on her Kimoyo bead bracelet for T’Challa saying he lost signal about two hours prior. She thought maybe some Stark tech was jamming it but then when it didn’t come back on she decided to make some calls,” you recall and bring the orange juice jug to the table with your plate of food.

“That’s right. After Y/n got off the phone with Shuri I found Pepper to see if she knew where you were, Tony. That’s how we knew you were gone. She said you had promised to be here for dinner and when you didn’t show she got worried, then Parker called and said you had missed coming to his school and we knew we had to start looking. Then May showed up her that night saying he never came home from school and the school was saying he left around lunch,” Wanda adds as she moves to the table with Nat. Sam slides into the seat beside you, freshly showered.

“Then Loki showed up and she went off about Thor and we knew that something big had happened. When we called Nick to verify the missions he supposedly gave out he just gave us his bitch face and we knew something was very wrong,” you pour syrup over your strawberries and waffle. “You’re just lucky we got there when we did. Y’all owe Dr. Cho, Shuri, Hill, MJ, and May big time. They were holding it down here and giving us anything and everything we needed to know. Oh and for future reference? Nick will never email or send someone else in his place when giving orders. It’s proven to be too much of a security issue,” you state and dig into your breakfast so they won’t continue pestering you about the day you saved them.

It had been nonstop questions about how you had planned the rescue, who had been team leader in Cap’s place, who decided who went and who stayed, and so on and so forth. You were over it and your answer seemed sufficient enough for Steve and Tony as they began to eat their food, a comfortable silence settling over the compound for the first time since everyone got back.

“Hey, don’t forget we have some new S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to whip into shape,” Sam nudges your arm, making you pause with a piece of waffle halfway to your mouth.

“I completely forgot. Let’s hurry then,” you perk up and finish your bite.

“How is she not tired of this playlist yet?” Rhodey crosses his arm, standing beside Tony on the upstairs overhang in the gym. The same playlist you turn on every time you train loops through F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s speaker system.

“She’s crazy, that’s why,” Tony sasses and chuckles.

You and Wanda are grappling while you wait for Steve, Sam, and Bucky to get back from taking the new agents on a mile and a half run. Natasha watches from the sidelines, yelling pointers and reminders for certain techniques the two of you are trying to smooth and perfect. It’s when Wanda pins you to the mat, red encircling from her hands up her forearms, that you tap out with a huffed laugh.

“Using your powers is cheating. This is a spar for hand to hand only, no powers,” you tease and buck your hips so high that she rolls off you, over your shoulder. You both sit up and she gives you a large smile, wiping the sweat from her brow as the red dissipates.

“I’m working on it,” she shoots back. She nudges her shoulder against yours and nods to the door. “Looks like the kids are here. Want me to get them ready with stretches?”

“I think they need cool down stretches and a water break from the looks of their run. I think Steve and Buck went overboard again. Damn super soldiers,” you laugh and push yourself to your feet, offering Wanda a hand up. She accepts it and heads over to the group of barely standing recruits.

“Everyone go get some water and line back up. We’ll do some cool downs since our soldiers like to overwork you first thing in the morning,” Wanda jabs at the old soldiers before shooting them a wink. They both flush pink and duck their heads as they retreat to the boxing ring. Sam laughs and snatches his water bottle from the bleachers and gives the witch a questioning look. She tips her head to you on the far side of the gym, talking in quick, hush tones with Natasha.

“Look, it’ll be funny. You saw the video of when I first, officially, met the guys right? It’ll be kinda like that,” you grin and bump her hip with yours. Her eyes narrow slightly, a playful glint in them, and she nods.

“Fine. You can have this group. I’ll get the next ones. I’m recording this though,” the Russian quips and grabs her jacket and water bottle. She nods at Sam in passing, heading straight for Tony and Rhodey upstairs.

“What was that about?” Sam inquires and leans against you. You raise a brow at him, swipe his bottle, and take a sip. He pouts for a split second before you hand it back to him.

“Just some good ole’ pranks on the unsuspecting newbies,” you chuckle and lean away from him. He follows so half of his upper body weight is leaning on your left side. You give him a fake sigh. He pulls back slightly and goes to lean back once you give him a smile, but you side step just out of his reach and he stumbles.

“Hey!” He yelps and grabs your wrist, pulling you close once he has his balance back. His dark eyes are bright with mirth and mischief. “I thought the pranks were for the kids?”

You lean towards him, noses brushing. For a moment you both just stare into the others eyes, lost in contention. You break eye contact and giggle.

“I mean, aren’t you a kid?”

“Oh har har har. Very funny, Y/n.”

“Thanks! I was thinking of quitting the Avengers to do my dream job; be a comedian!” You cheer and give his shoulder a nudge. “You know I’m just playing. Anyway, time to go scare some new agents into shape! Oh, and tell the Soldiers to slow the pace or I’ll have them supervise the kids on treadmills instead.”

“Aye aye, Ma’am!” He salutes and takes a seat on the edge of the boxing ring where Steve and Bucky are stretching. “You two heard the lady.”

“Ladies all across the world, listen up we’re looking for recruits! If you’re with me, lemme see your hands, stand up, and salute! Get your killer heels, sneakers, pumps, or lace up your boots! Representing all the women, salute, salute!”

The music slowly fades in as Wanda addresses the recruits to get back in some formation. You slink up behind them, waiting for one of them to notice you and say something. When they don’t, you have F.R.I.D.A.Y. turn up the volume of the music just a little, waiting for the right moment, timing it with the lyrics of the song.

“ATTENTION!” You call, using your diaphragm and startling every single one of the new recruits. They all jump, stumble, and trip over each other in an attempt to turn and cower or push their way to the front. You grin at them, eyes brimming mischievously. The ones with previous military and junior ROTC are standing at attention but slowly stand easy again when they realize it was a joke. A Cheshire grin spreads across your face as you make eye contact with each and every one of them. “Time for the real training to begin. You will start by sparring with Natasha, Sam, Clint, and myself. Break up into even groups. Move it!”

[jobean12-blog]

I love it. Every word. Bucky did his work and I’m so happy for them. The soft romantic love just melts me! ❤️🥰❤️

Someone To Love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Word Count: 6,600

Warnings: Eventual Smut, Friends to lovers, I think some cussing, Fluff at times

Summary: Reader is an Avenger. She doesn’t do relationships because of past experiences. When Bucky confronts the reader about her ways, he tells her he likes her causing the reader to tell him to earn her. Bucky who is always up the challenge and is head over heels for her does just that. Will she give him a fair shot? Can you really fall for your best friend?

Thank you to my beta reader @music-culture-mythology​ & @whimsicalrogers​ for the divider

All photos are from Pinterest. Any female pictures do not represent what my reader looks like. I use them to show what she is wearing or set a mood.

Reblogs & Comments on Tumblr are welcomed and encouraged. 😊💜

Reposts or Translations on other social media pages or apps are NOT allowed. If you see my work anywhere else besides Tumblr & AO3 under this user name then it has been stolen. 🚫🚫 

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[captain-kelli]

Captain Kelli’s 500 Fam Writing Challenge

What is UP, fam? Somehow, I have managed to hit a milestone of 500 followers in 41 days and I am in utter and total shock. I could think of no better way to celebrate than by reading works by all of you.

The master list of works submitted

The details:

The theme: strong women (because I’m a sucker for them)

Due date: March 8, 2020 (International Women’s Day!!)

The tag: #captainkelli500fam

The rules:

You don’t have to be following me, but I’d love to have ya

Send me an ask with the prompt and character. Only two entries per prompt, first come first served. If we run out of prompts (which I doubt will happen), I’ll add more.

You are free to write for any Marvel character with a reader-insert, OC or just canon characters

Tag me when you’re done and use the challenge tag 

It can be a one-shot or a series, but it has to be the first chapter in the series.

Minimum of 500 words.

For the love of all that is holy, use the “Keep Reading” feature

Song and quote prompts don’t have to be written into the story, but the dialogue prompts (obviously) do

Please use warnings as they apply. If there are any triggers that are not in the warnings, I will not reblog, or include in the master list.

No underage/non-con. Everything else is fine.

Strikeout means it’s no longer available

Have fun! Share each other’s work! Be kind to one another!!

Prompts below the cut!

Dialogue Prompts:

“I could do it better! And in heels!” // @sebbbystaaan (Bucky Barnes) + @justlexia (Steve Rogers)

“I do not need a damn man by my side to do this.” // @stuckonjbbarnes (Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes x OC) + @rogrsnbarnes

“If there’s one thing I’m willing to bet on, it’s myself.” // @brooklynbarrnes (Bucky Barnes) + @danijimenezv

“Oh, screw beautiful. I’m brilliant. If you want to appease me, compliment my brain.” // @xetoilerouge + @moonstruckbucky

"I think you can't wait for someone to fly underneath you and save your life. I think you have to save yourself." // @valkyriesryde (Steve Rogers) + @whistlingwillows​

“I’m a woman with a brain and reasonable ability.” // @heartopen-testify​ (Bucky Barnes) + @sunlightdances​ (Bucky Barnes)

"Who asked you to intervene? You think you have to rescue me? You think I can’t take care of myself?” // @tarithenurse​ (Thor) + @avintagekiss24​ (Stucky)

“I’m very prepared to live with the consequences of my actions. What I couldn’t live with were the consequences of my inactions.” // @justkending​ (Steve Rogers) + @redfoxwritesstuff​ (Loki)

“I am not the girl the guy gets at the end of the movie. I am not a fantasy. If you want me, earn me! Until then, we are done." // @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall​ (Steve Rogers) + @saiyanprincessswanie​ (Bucky Barnes)

“When the door you have been knocking at finally swings open, you don’t ask why. You run through.” // @livyourextralife​ + @socie 

Quote Prompts:

She who is brave is free. // @capsized-heart​ + @crushedbyhyperbole​ (Thor)

She has been through hell. So believe me when I say, fear her when she looks into a fire and smiles. // @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ + @captain-rogers-beard​ (Wanda Maximoff)

Empowered women empower women. // @heli0s-writes​ + @the-unspoken-rule​

A well-read woman is a dangerous creature // @sugarfreecapsicle​ + @eyesfixedonthesun22​

There is no limit to what we, as women, can accomplish. // @panicfob​ (Bucky Barnes) + @maladaptive-ninja-returns​

Song Prompts:

You Don’t Own Me (Lesley Gore / SAYGRACE) // @softhairbarnes + @stopitchris

Formation (Beyoncé) // @allaboardthereadingrailroad

Girl on Fire (Alicia Keys) // @marquiswrites (Peter Parker) + @trashmenofmarvel (OC x Bucky Barnes)

Salute (Little Mix) // @avengerskeeper + @queens-n-roses (Bucky Barnes)

Truth Hurts (Lizzo) // @fic-for-fic-sake + @ussgallifreyfics (Steve Rogers)

Nightmare (Halsey) // @jbbarnesnnoble + @jbbuckybarnes​

Fighter (Christina Aguilera) // @sirenaurelix​ (Stucky) + @lesqui​ (Bucky Barnes)

So What (Pink) // @bitchassbucky (OC x platonic!Avengers) + @samsgoddess (OC x BFF!Natasha)

Woman (Ke$ha) // @blueberrybuchanan (Thor) + @kellyn1604

You Should See Me in a Crown (Billie Eilish) // @nacho-bucky + @perpetually-tuned-out