#enhanced reader

[creative-caramel-coffee]

The Spiders Sister - Chapter 1

Summary: Reader gets caught hiding out in the avengers tower. In the end it turns out for the best.

TW: non-sexual nudity, illness, fainting, swearing

Words: 4.1K

A/n: Super long first chapter

маленький паук – Little Spider

It defiantly wasn’t part of your life plan to be living with your bother again in your adulthood.

You had spent an excellent few months on your own having finally moved out of May Parker’s apartment, it had been perfect. Well … as perfect as life could be for a parker.

Then … you guessed it … parker luck struck again. There was a huge fight, one you had been itching to join but your brother, peter parker, had it covered. And since nobody knew that you sometimes wore the spider-man suit when peter wasn’t able to, it would all be over if two Spider-Man’s ended up fighting some of the weird aliens that had invaded New York.

You see, you and your brother had more in common than most siblings did. Peter parker had been bitten by a radioactive spider on a school trip as was known to a few people. But, at the same time, you had been eighteen and chaperoning the field trip.

When peter had snuck off to the side you had gone after him. When he was bitten, so were you.

But for now, you had decided to try and stay away from the superhero lifestyle. But when the itch came, peter lent you his suit so you could scratch it.

You had helped him refine his web-fluid and had your own web shooters as well as one of his old suits just in case. May knew about you and peter after finding out a while ago. However, peter and you had kept everything about your existence from the avengers so you could live a semi-normal life. At least for now.

But the day the avengers were fighting off the aliens, New York had taken some heavy damage. You had been running a small illustration business out of your apartment in queens. Your apartment … which was now levelled in the fight was gone. Along with your business.

Since you had moved out young, May only had one spare bedroom in her apartment which peter was occupying. Leaving the Parker’s with one option.

As peter had a room in the avenger's tower, you could stay there or with aunt may. Peter being Peter didn’t want to ask tony if he could stay in the tower for the unforeseeable future without arousing questions. So, you had been secretly living in the tower for about three days now.

Peter brought you food and had bribed Jarvis to keep your existence a secret. You had his old suit if you wanted to leave the tower, you could swing away instead of walking through the building and getting caught.

It was a pretty solid plan and it had been working pretty well. Until the day you got sick.

Peters' bedroom in the tower was on the floor with the other avengers, meaning you had to be somewhat quiet so Natasha, clint or the others didn’t find you. But it had begun to get colder out, and Peters old suit didn’t have a heater. It had been made before tony had found out spiders, including peter and yourself, can't thermoregulate. And swinging around New York without a heater in the nippy winter air had left you with a pretty nasty cold.

Unlike peter your powers didn’t give you super healing. In fact, your powers differed from peters in more ways than one. For one thing you had small fangs which you could retract, they didn’t do much, but they were cool, and peter was mildly jealous. Another thing was you had taken on aspects of jumping spiders as you could jump higher due to your super strength and some weird spider quality peter lacked.

Like peter the bit had given your excellent eyesight, increased metabolism, a lack of thermoregulation, the weird sticky thing, the spider sense and super strength and the allergy to peppermint. But due to sharing the suit anytime you went out as “Spider-Man” you had to refrain from using your own unique powers, so you didn’t give anything away.

The thermoregulating thing may have finally come back to bite you now that you were in peters old suit. After taking one of his patrols for him so he could finish his assignment and you could get out of his room in the tower, the cold had made you sick. Heres the thing about having a high metabolism when you don’t have an increased healing factor. It went one of two ways. Either you had flash colds which were taken care of quickly and at a much faster rate than the average human, or if it was stronger than your immune system, it was quickly made into a bigger problem than it should have been due to your body processing things faster and speeding up its strength.

Anytime this had happened in the past, due to not being able to go to a regular hospital, you had thanked the gods for May choosing a career in nursing. Though she had been able to treat you superficially with regular medicine and not anything made for super soldiers or spiders as that was a Bruce banner specialty that was unique to the tower's med bay. So, you often just had to ride it out and if things got really bad, peter would try and smuggle you some of his medicine out of the tower for you.

So, this is where you ended up. Curled up in Peters bed in the tower, stifling rough sounding coughs into his pillow and making a mental note to wash his sheets soon. You were doing your best to remain quiet and not alert either of the super spies to your presence or any of the other avengers. You thanked Thor that only you and peter had super hearing which meant you could usually tell if someone was in the halls.

Feeling miserable you buried yourself further into the sheets and shivered, it was so cold but in reality, you probably had a high fever. Your lungs let out a wheezing noise whenever you exhaled, and you were beginning to think maybe your asthma was back. Unlike peter you had not been so lucky as to have had it cured by the bite.

Your asthma puffer was one of the few things that survived your apartment being destroyed. As you laid in bed feeling awful you thought back to that day.

You thanked the gods you had been out at the time. You had gone to a coffee shop downtown with your sketchbook, laptop and usual things you took out, including a range of art supplies and of course your emergency puffer which peter had managed to smuggle out which had doses that worked with your metabolism.

You were broken from your daydreams as another harsh coughing fit wracked your body. From what you could hear nobody was in the halls, but you did your best to keep quiet regardless. The wheezing that trailed after each breath was getting worse and your lungs were feeling tight.

You had been trying to use the puffer sparingly so it didn’t run out because you didn’t know if and or when peter could get you another. But as drawing breath grew harder you made the executive call to use it. You rolled over in the bed and threw an arm down to fish around for your red backpack. Finding it you fiddled with the zip before your fingers wrapped around the cool plastic of the device. Tony being tony had insisted it have a Spiderman case thinking it was peters which ended up being rather ironic as it was fitting for you too.

You tried fruitlessly one last time to draw breath before achieving nothing but a crackling wheeze. Screw it. You uncapped the red lid and held it to your lips, propping yourself up on an elbow in an attempt to sit u straight to take it.

You exhaled and inhaled repeating it once more before drawing in a lungful of the super-medicine. Almost straight away you began to feel better. Your fast metabolism speeding up the medicines process.

Feeling like you could breathe again you replaced the cap and put it on the nightstand before curling up in the sheets again feeling cold still but also slightly damp from the thin layer of sweat that had been forming all morning.

You were dressed in spider-man pjs which had a thin t-shirt and long pants. You had considered getting up to grab one of peters hoodies to get warm or another blanket but the idea of standing up made your head spin.

You nestled back into the sheets and let your eyes fall shut despite it being almost midday. The curtains were drawn and so it didn’t bother you too much. You began to drift off into a semi-peaceful sleep broken by harsh coughing fits which were becoming harder to stifle in your half asleep and fevered state.

Meanwhile the avengers had just finished their morning training session, one which Peter had joined for once. Peter being Peter had barely broken a sweat and as a result had opted to hang out on the communal floor while everyone went o freshen up.

Stark had designed the tower well. With Peter’s bedroom being on the same floor as Natasha’s who was rather protective of her younger spider counterpart as well as Wanda’s, Yelena’s, Kate’s and a few spares. The rest of the avengers were a floor above.

At first peter had been a bit miffed about being on a floor of just girls but he ended up liking it a lot. And he had a second bedroom in the master suite with tony and Pepper which he proffered anyway. The one on the avenger's floor was more for if Tony and Pepper were away, and he wanted to be around the others.

Natasha was headed for her room after waving goodbye to peter who had settled down to watch more star-wars, when she paused in the hallway.

Retracing her steps she found herself stood outside peters bedroom door. Frowning she pressed an ear to the door and froze. Someone was inside and coughing. Knowing it wasn’t peter, nat carefully twisted the door handle.

Peter being peter had prepared for almost anything. As soon as Natasha had set foot inside peters room Jarvis had alerted peter of her presence.

Meanwhile Natasha peered into the dimly lit room. The lump in the bed was wriggling around and coughing. Nat was on high alert by now. She realised this person was ill but how had they managed to get in without Jarvis knowing? And why were they in peters bed?

She crossed the threshold and walked over to the bed. Taking note of the backpack on the floor and puffer on the bedside table as well as your spider-man pjs which had been a gag gift from Peter last Christmas.

Nat stood and observed for a second. Looking down at your flushed face which was burning with fever and the harsh coughs that were wracking your weak form.

Nat watched helplessly for a second unsure of how to deal with a sick intruder.

She hesitated before extending a hand to your forehead and feeling a very high fever. She sucked a breath. Despite being an intruder she had some ideas as to why you may have been here. Your likeness to peter wasn’t hard to spot. Yet. She was unsure.

Peeling of the blankets to get a better look at you, as she did you made a small noise of discontent and curled into a shaking ball still fever addled and half asleep.

Before she could continue the door opened and peter looked in.

“Uhh M-Ms Romanoff…” Peter said looking guilty as he stepped in and closed the door again.

“Peter, do you know who this is?” Natasha asked getting straight to the point. Peter hesitated and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Y-yes.” He said looking at your sick form with a frown.

“Peter.” She said crossing her arms. “Care to share whats going on?” Nat said as she headed for Peter’s bathroom.

“Um… She … she’s,, my sister.” Peter said unsurely. Natasha returned after a second and nodded. Now holding the first aid kit from peters bathroom in her arms.

“Anything else i should know?” She asked walking over to the bed and sitting down to rifle through the first aid kit.

“Petey?” You mumbled hearing his voice.

Peter seemed to break out of his trance and came to your side. “I’m here Y/n.” He said.

“‘S cold.” You mumbled making peter frown.

“Actually, I think she has a fever.” Nat said as she found what she was looking for, pulling out a thermometer from the kit.

Nat gently placed the thermometer under your tongue and turned to look at peter.

“Pete, you’re not in trouble but i need some more information.” Natasha said.

“This is Y/n. She’s, my sister. Her apartment was levelled in the last attack and so she’s been staying here ever since. She’s not a threat I promise.” Peter said almost tripping over his words in order to explain.

Before Nat could respond the thermometer beeped and she removed it to look at the small screen, drawing another round of coughs from you. Natasha rubbed your back with one hand while frowning at the screen.

“Peter… she should be dead. This says 106. There’s more isn’t there.” Nat said with some urgency as she began peeling the rest of the blankets off you in an attempt to cool you down.

“Ahh … yes. She had powers. Like mine. She … she wears the suit sometimes.” Peter said standing nearby and watching with a worried expression.

“Ok. So, she has spider powers? High metabolism, super strength, etc.” Nat said and Peter nodded. “Why hasn’t her healing fixed this?” Nat said feeling your forehead again.

“She doesn’t have it. Her powers differ slightly.” Peter explained as Nat cursed softly in Russian.

“Her fever’s still rising.” Nat said making a decision. “We need to cool her down fast before she gets too hot for her own good. Jarvis?” Natasha said and peter looked panicked for a second worried about more people finding out about you.

“Ms Romanoff-“ he started.

“Pete, we need to cool her down stat. I need some help.” She said and peter nodded still looking nervous. “Jarvis call wanda to Peter’s bedroom.” Nat said and peter relaxed slightly. Wanda was ok. She would be good for the situation.

“What are you going to do?” Peter asked.

“She needs a bath and I doubt you want to do that.” She said with a small smirk and Peter flushed for a second.

“Defiantly not.” He said shaking his head.

“Is there someone we can call? Someone who she’d be ok with dressing her once we cool her down. She may be sick but i don’t want to invade her privacy.” Nat said as she scooped you up from the bed and into her lap while they waited for wanda to arrive. You cough harshly again and wheezed making nat frown and look to peter.

“Asthma.” He said.

“Runs in the family huh?” She joked reaching over for the puffer on the bedside table.

“Uh… about that.” Peter said looking guilty. “Mine was cured by the bite. I need the puffers for her.” He said looking sheepish. Expecting Nat to be mad she grinned.

“You’re a good brother.” She said as she uncapped the device and pressed it to your lips.

“Exhale.” She instructed and by some small miracle you complied. When you went to inhale, she administered the medicine and told you to hold.

Recapping the device, she rubbed a hand up and down your arm. “Good job sweetie.” She said and felt you relax into her arms some more as you let out a breath.

The two sat in silence for another second before the door opened again and wanda slipped inside.

She was freshly showered, her hair damp and she smelt like jasmine and honey. She was dressed in a simple faded black t-shirt and grey track pants.

“Whats-“ she began before pausing, her eyes caught on you laid in Natashas lap half asleep.

“Wanda,” Nat said. “Meet Y/n. Peter’s older sister.” She said.

“Okay…” Wanda said looking lost before her expression morphed to concern as you coughed. “Is she ok?” Wanda asked.

“No. That’s why you’re here. Long story short, peter smuggled her into the tower, and she has spider powers and her fever is really high. We need to cool her down.” Nat said and wanda swallowed and nodded. “Peter?” Nat said turning to the younger parker.

“Yes?” He said looking up from where he had been studying his shoes closely.

“You never answered my question. Is there someone we can call to come and get her dressed after wanda and i bathe her?” Nat asked and peter blushed again and nodded.

“I can call May. It’s her day off.” He said and Nat nodded.

“You do that. Wanda and I will look after Y/n. We promise not to go further than her outer clothes.” She said and scooped you up into her arms. She headed for Peter’s bathroom with wanda trailing behind. You remained limp in her arms snuggled into her chest in an unconscious need for companionship.

Once the two redheads had you in the bathroom wanda looked at nat. “Now what?” She asked and Natasha smirked.

“Now we take her clothes off.” She said and gently she lifted your arms from where you were laid on the floor in her lap and pulled the spider-man t-shirt off over your head. Wanda blushed slightly at the sight of your red sports bra despite having seen Nat and herself train in about the same if not less clothes.

“You wanna help?” Nat asked with a grin that only served to make Wanda’s blush deepen. You squirmed slighting in Nat’s lap but stopped when she gently rubbed your arm after you buried your warm face into her stomach.

Wanda rolled her eyes in an attempt to feign nonchalance despite being way past that point.

She lifted her hands, and the familiar red glow of magic surrounded her hands. Her magic lifted your hips so Nat could slide off your pants. Wanda blushed again at the sight of your Black Widow boxers. Natasha however grinned at them finding it both adorable and very cute.

After a beat Wanda met Nat’s eyes again. “Now what?”

“We get her in the bath. She needs to be cooled down Asap.” Nat said hoisting you into her arms again as you wriggled, turning and grumbling into her chest.

“Not gonna lie she’s pretty cute.” Nat said and Wanda avoided her eyes as she used her magic to fill the bath with tepid water.

Natasha gently lowered you into the tub ignoring your whining protests and running her hands through your hair which seemed to calm you down as you relaxed again.

“So … now we wait?” Wanda guessed and Natasha nodded.

“Yep. Unless you really want to steal May’s job of getting her dressed again.” Nat teased making Wanda splutter slightly. “Im kidding.” Nat said. “I know what hot women do to your brain.” She winked and wanda slouched slightly.

After a second you grumbled and blearily opened your eyes, squinting at the two women.

“Peter is so dead.” You mumbled before letting your eyes drift shut again. There was a pause before wanda and nat both started laughing.

You groaned. “Peter!” You yelled before coughing again making Wanda and Nat frown. But before they could do anything the door opened to show a beat red peter with his hands covering his eyes.

“Yes?” He said in a small voice.

“When I get out of here, you’re dead.” You mumbled with a foggy glare sent in his direction.

“Hey. Peter did the right thing.” Another voice said from behind Peter.

“May?” You called. “Oh, wtf is going on right now.” You mumbled.

“Whats going on kiddo is that, once again, you failed to ask for help which landed you here.” May said entering the bathroom with a change of clothes.

“Nice to see you Ms Parker.” Nat said and wanda echoed.

“Please. Call me May. And thank you for looking after her.” May said and you groaned.

“I hate all of you.” You said hiding your face in your hands.

“Uh huh. Sure, you do.” May teased.

“It was no problem. Ms- May.” Wanda said. “We’ll wait in peters bedroom while you… yeah.” Wanda said before making a hasty retreat. Nat laughed and followed her out.

May gave you a disappointed frown once she had shut the door and turned back to you with a sigh.

“Honey.” She said.

“I know… I know.” You said still feeling like death but slightly less so. “Did the black widow and scarlet witch just really see me in my underpants?” You asked.

“Yes, and I serves you right for hiding illness … again!” She said as she came over, rolling up her sleeves and helping you out, practically holding all your weight for you as your head spun.

May frowned and guided you over to the covered toilet seat to dress you again.

Gently she began to towel you off and change you into fresh clothes.

“I can do it myself.” You whined but May shot you a look and you knew better than to challenge the angry Parker and you and peter had called her as kids when she was upset at you for something.

“Now, once you’re dressed you are going to thank those two for their kindness and your coming home with me.” May said.

“But-“ you began.

“No buts.” She said and helped you up, now fully dressed.

She helped you over to the door opening it despite still holding you up. The two of you shuffled into the room where Peter, Nat and Wanda were sat on Peter’s bed talking in hushed voices.

“Pete. I love you but I can hear everything you’re saying dumbass.” You said rolling your eyes and May lightly hit your arm.

“Right.” He said rubbing his neck. “Super hearing.” He nodded.

“I’ll add it to the list.” Nat grinned and you groaned before May jabbed you in the side and looked at the two girls.

You coughed at her actions making her frown but quickly got it under control for the sake of your already fragile image.

“Thank you, Wanda and Natasha, for helping me.” You said still leaning heavily on May. Now you had been standing for a bit the room began to spin. Your face went a shade paler making Natasha frown and stand. It was a split second before you stumbled, almost bringing May down with you in the process. Luckily strong arms wrapped around you, and you looked up into Nat’s pale green and worried eyes.

“Y/n?” You finally registered she was talking to you. “Y/n?” She asked again a little louder.

You let out a soft groan and she huffed. “Right. Up we go.” She said hoisting you into your arms and making the room spin again as you buried your face in her arm.

You felt her gently set you down on the bed and feel your forehead.

Distantly you heard May saying something along the lines of taking you home and the sound of Natasha arguing they were better equipped to help with your powers and sickness. May relented and you went back to dozing.

“What happened?” Peter asked from where he was stood by the door.

“Probably got too dizzy from standing up. Her body’s already trying to fight off sickness.” Natasha said and Wanda nodded.

“Peter? Don’t you have a super high metabolism?” Wanda asked.

“Yeah?” He said looking lost as May seemed to catch on.

“Y/n when did you last eat?” May asked and you groaned and buried your face in the pillow. “Well, that answers that.” May said rolling her eyes.

“Peter, do you have any of those energy bars that steve uses?” Wanda asked and peter nodded and headed for his bedside drawer.

He fished around and pulled out one of them and passed it to nat. She unwrapped it and shoved it into your hands.

“Eat.” She said and you made a groan of protest. “It’ll help.” She said in a softer tone.

“Fine.” You said sitting up against the headboard and nibbling on it slowly.

“Better.” Nat said and you frowned.

“You know you’re cute when you’re mad.” Wanda said looking surprised by her own words and blushing at Natasha’s knowing gaze.

“Get some rest маленький паук” Nat said once you had finished eating, and she begun to shepherd everyone out of the room.

PART 2

[myinconnelly1]

“You dumbass. Don’t do that. Ever again.” With Bob

Distractions

You couldn’t believe that some holodeck shit like this actually existed outside of Star Trek.  Valentina’s connections had outfitted the WatchTower and added this training level, where they could AI simulate real fights.  This had numerous benefits for training, but the drawbacks, however, were that bruising was still a concern.  It was designed to be as realistic as possible without killing you.

Bucky had designed this training for some of the newer enhanced people who just kept seeming to appear since the start of the Avengers.  You were one of them, and this was a chance for you to show off your abilities with the rest of the team that you had been working with.  Teammates like Bob.

You had to physically restrain yourself when you were around him.  You had fallen hard and fast, but he was so quiet you weren’t even sure that he was into you like that.  In your fantasies he was.  And that was most of the time.

You were hiding behind a building, and an illusion of yourself fighting with the rest of the trainees.  Simple illusions like your own body and inanimate objects didn’t really take any of your focus, but large complex illusions left you almost defenseless.  The team split out as you started to focus on the dragon that you intended to conjure.  It wasn’t real but it could hurt things if people didn’t know better.

Your illusory double stood still as you concentrated, seemingly unaware of the bullets that were coming at you.  Bob threw himself from out of nowhere right through your illusion.  It disappeared as he was about to make contact, and your dragon took up residence towering over Bob and breathing fire over the manufactured goons.

“What the fuck are you doing there?!” You screamed at Bob as you allowed your focus to stray now that the dragon was visible.

“Saving you!” He cried back at you before rushing out of harm's way back over to where you were taking cover.

“You dumbass,” You stared at him as you realized he had risked bodily harm to protect you.  “Don’t do that. Ever again!”  You shouted as shots rang out.  He leaned forward and kissed you causing your dragon to wink out of existence as your brain short-circuited.

“Don’t stand in front of bullets,” He whispered against your lips.

“When this is all over, I hope you do that again,” You said.

“Stop playing kissy face and get back to training,” Bucky said in your earpiece.

[falloutwitch2004]

Thunderbolts* Era Bucky Barnes × Enhanced! Wife! Reader Headcanons

TW: mild cursing, mentions of fighting, (not really triggers): domestic Bucky, children

○ you and Bucky get married almost as soon as he comes back from the blip. Neither of you want to chance missing the opportunity again in some tragedy. To his surprise, he also returns to a set of twins: Grant and Rebecca, who are nearing five years old at the time.

○ post marriage pre congressional candidacy, you and Bucky welcome a son: George.

○ Bucky then later would take a step away from the fight and run for a position in congress. You found it a bit of a strange choice at first, but continually supported him. "Mom, Dad's campaign ad is on!" One of the twins would call from their seats in the living room of the house, now tweens.

○ handling two tweens and a toddler was no easy feat. The twins could get a bit rowdy, and George was in constant need of some sort of attentious care. "Give it back!" was how any argument started over any material item. "Rebecca James, Grant Samuel!" You'd scold. They knew they were in trouble when they heard you use their middle names. However, that wouldn't keep them from continuing. Most times, you had to physically pull them away from each other with your powers, since their natually enhanced strength kept you from just stepping between them.

○Bucky knew how hard it was for you to balance mom life and mission life, even if you had managed to do so in his absence. Once he is elected as a congress official, he had more time at home with the kids when he wasn't in a meeting or doing press. That's when Sam was a trusted sitter.

○ you'd walk into the house to find Bucky cooking, a sauce stain sticking out like a sore thumb on his white button down and George giggling in his high chair with a fistful of spaghetti-o's. He was so focused on following the recipe perfectly. "And this, my dear husband, is why i take care of dinner." You say half-jokingly as you walk in after having a long mission debrief. "Just look at your shirt. And I just finished laundry. Hand it over. I'll have to pretreat it so that doesn't stain it forever." Bucky gives you his shirt. "You're on ref duty while I take care of this."

○ yeah, the twins are absolute menaces even for Bucky. And it doesn't get any easier when it's found out that Grant inherited your powers. "Hey, no powers in the house!" Bucky would tell them.

○ you had not an ounce of trust when you saw Valentina stop by with the files. "You're doing this again?" You ask.

○ "yeah doll, you won't believe these kids. And you'll never guess who's here. Fucking Walker." Bucky would tell you over the phone. "Say hi to the kids for me."

[anika-ann]

Back and Forth - Epilogue pt.1

Epilogue 1/2 - Always Forward

Type: series; agent!reader, inhuman!reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word Count: 8700

Chapter summary:  In which you're settling into a new normal... and something beautiful might be blossoming between you and Steve, even as your past experience is holding you back.

Series masterlist

Warnings: mention of dampened senses and vomitting, mentions of unhealthy relationship with pain, mention of PTSD and flashbacks, mentions of bruises and bleeding (brief and no-graphic), Steve being a menace, allusions to messed-up self-image and self-worth, language✨ Please, let me know any time if you think I missed any!

A/N: ALWAYS MIND THE WARNINGS; dividers by @firefly-graphics 💕; moodboard is for the vibes and does not necessarily reflect reader’s appearance

A/N2: hello it's me, bringing this story back from the void. If you follow on AO3, you have seen this posted... in October. My dummy self forgot to post it here. Enjoy and let know if you did? 😇

You were not counting your days of recovery. You weren’t.

You fully understood healing was a process, even if sped up by Steve’s accelerated healing ability still gracing your body and stitching up your cells in the speed of considerably delayed light.

The determination to not count days was most certainly not at all connected to the fact that every day of your enhanced healing meant keeping a stolen miracle from its rightful owner and as a consequence, keeping a hero with capital H from ordinary people, keeping him from saving lives due to his own slowed recovery. However, the delay was not on you only – it had been a mutual decision to which you had come to together.

Healing simply took time; you got that. On a rational level, you understood it all perfectly.

Thus, you weren’t counting days.

You were counting hours instead. And there were too many to your liking.

You wished you had felt better when the switch finally happened, after your tissue had completely healed and you had started physical therapy, but it was not that simple. You did feel better in a way, of course, but you exchanged one little hell for another.

As much as you had tried to prepare for the moment, even talking to Steve about how much of a shock it had been for him to wake up after the first switch, no amount of readiness made you truly ready and it wasn’t just the fear of the Kree artifact possibly having another surprise in stock for you.

It wasn’t just the healing factor either; it was the senses.

You hadn’t had a single doubt you’d feel relieved and grateful later on – and you did now – but suddenly losing the beyond-perfect vision and hearing might have as well render you completely blind and deaf. Even after days, you caught yourself squinting, listening to music that appeared to always play too low even when on max, eating food with enough spice to send Clint – Clint, of all people – running away with tears, because to you it tasted completely bland otherwise. You physically had to stop yourself from spraying yourself with perfume once more because you didn’t seem to smell it at all.

Steve was no better. He was good at rolling with the punches and he did have an experience with suddenly gaining enhanced senses already; but he did admit, with reluctance, that he had thrown up directly after the switch, the assault on his senses too overwhelming; mumbling something about a hangover and Asgardian liquor. Not that you heard him at the time; because you had practically turned deaf.

Yay Kree! said no one, ever.

There were positives too, however; even with dampened senses, the moment you were able to project for the first time again, you were taken by relief so intense you felt tears sting in your eyes, your chest so tight and yet so light you could fly. You were far from a perfect person, from a perfect Inhuman; but god, had you never been happier to be yourself than at that moment.

Steve reached the peak of his recovery not two days after, his range of motion and strength returning as if he had never been injured at all.

And by some karmic blessing, the switch did have one miraculous effect defying one of the most fundamental law of physics; the conservation of energy.

The pain ceased to exist.

 Steve swore to you while looking – squinting still, really, the lights too bright for his enhanced sight – directly into your eyes that there was not a single trace of his spectral wound in his chest. It didn’t hurt. And the pain didn’t transfer to you either. It was just… gone.

You didn’t investigate why, even as you could feel the wheels in Steve’s head turning, his neurons once again firing like mad as he considered using the Leviathan for switches more often, wanting to try if together, you could rid you of the pain completely whenever your Spectre suffered an injury. You didn’t want to know if that was an option; because it was not an option for you, the risks you had listed earlier remaining.

Nevertheless, you were grateful that this one and only time you’d used the artifact, Steve was free of the consequences of your abilities.

And you were beyond grateful that exchanging powers back did not catapult you back into times where you and Steve fought all too often.

In fact, it was the exact opposite.

You did begin to build the foundation Steve had talked about. An invite for a run, for a workout, for a lunch. Sitting next to each other when watching a movie with other Avengers or during the AI movie nights. Lingering when running into each other, exchanging at least a few sincere words or mere small talk. A literal walk in a park, a little hike upstate, a coffee with no expectations beyond a good, safe time with someone whose company you enjoyed very much.

When you granted yourself the permission to let go, you gravitated towards each other, every time, the alluring warmth of his, figurative and literal, always pulling you in, tingles in your belly reaching into your chest and untying the knots of anxiety and doubt and setting you free of their barbaric cage.

You did take it slow. There were no labels, no pressure – at least not from Steve’s side – no deadlines. No official dates, no purely romantic displays of affection.

You did work on building that trust and you were fully aware it was mostly for your own benefit. Even as Steve was clearly putting a lot of effort into making it seem like he didn’t mind, you added the guilt over making him wait and complicating things to the nice pile you had managed to gather all by yourself; but that was not on Steve. Steve was… incredible.

With all this, the feeling you had always felt humming in your chest and which you had been so desperate to fight just to remain a little safer, grew louder. You had always trusted Steve; the trust was now turning steel-solid with every precious minute in his presence.

It was you whom you still didn’t quite trust.

But when you allowed yourself to let go just a tiny bit, to feel Steve’s sincerity in just about anything, when you consciously pushed at least some of your fears to the backburner, you were falling for Steve fast. And hard.

Steve Rogers was a man as close to perfection as you thought it possible. There were almost too many things to admire and appreciate about him. His bravery, sincerity an all-in approach when it came to feeling, were but a few of them.

One of the ways which conveyed his kindness and dare to say affection, was his touch.

There were few fundamental facts about touching and being touched by Steve.

The first one was that before your unfortunate Hydra incident, you two had never touched outside of strictly work-related reasons; and even those, at least to your knowledge, had been very limited. One, Steve fixed some of your moves or stance in training, or assisted you if it was completely necessary. Two, Steve carried you when you inevitably passed out during a mission; being high-up in his arms, pressed to his front as he had easily carried you bridal style, was a memory which you recalled with surprising sharpness and yet maddening haziness that prevented you from fully benefiting from those moments.

The second fact was that even if the touch was limited to work-related occasions, there was a hierarchy in it: you had never initiated the physical contact. You wouldn’t for a while, in the course of work or outside of it.

Third, when it did come to physical contact outside of work, there was something incredibly fragile and beautiful about Steve and touch.

It wasn’t like you had never had another person touch you outside of work before, obviously. That wasn’t it. You had done plenty of gymnastics training, ballet lessons, work-out, martial arts, sparring – all these included a lot of correction by your trainers. You had once had friends too, you had hugged; and god knew Daisy could give, at least by your estimate, among the warmest hugs on Earth and in Space.

When it came to a different kind of touch, when it came to sex, you sure had your fair share of experience of being touched. In fact, there had been a period of your life that included a very high number of sexual encounters, which naturally tended to involve a lot of touching; so much that you’d confidently say the rule at the time was quantity over quality. The habit was objectification over affection. The reality was heated desire to fuck and be fucked over intimacy.

And that was exactly where the overwhelming contrast lied: there was something empoweringly and disarmingly intimate about Steve’s touch, even outside of romance.

It had started back at the Hydra cell, with him tenderly cradling your head, fingertips lingering on your thigh after he had finished taking care of your wound; the very study in intimate, warm touch, that lingered in your mind fondly despite the dreadful circumstance.

And from there, the physical contact came surprisingly easy and frequent to you two.

A tentative brush of a hand on your arm, an offered elbow if the situation called for it, a half-sided hug. Many if not all of these touches were nothing but friendly in their nature, no different from those Steve would give to Natasha or Bucky or Sam – and yet they whispered of tender intimacy. And they lit you on fire; and while on occasion that fire was burning you from inside out, driving you to the point of madness, most of the time, it was a fire that felt gentle and safe.

And while touching seemed easy as it was with Steve, at least where he initiated it, you felt there were two defining moments where the remaining barriers between you cracked with deafening and soothing noise.

One of them was the first true touch you had initiated since being in a hospital bed after the Hydra mess. It was back when you had found Stevefalling apart, a flashback catching him unexpectedly when the fireworks for his own birthday had gone off – or that much had been your guess at the time.

The memory haunted you with heartache and fondness at once; his ass in those nicely fitting slacks planted on the floor in an abandoned remote Tower corridor, back pressed against the wall, fingers in his hair gripping and making sure his palms were covering his ears.

You had approached him slowly that evening – tentative for multiple reasons – making as heavy steps as you could so he could feel you coming. You seated your ass – in a blue summer dress reaching above your knees – next to him, close, but not touching at first. Then, when you could tell he registered your presence – somehow slightly more relaxed and more strung up at once – you scooted over, just resting your bare shoulder against his, your heart having leapt to your throat at the contact.

And that was it. You just sat there next to him, silently asking Friday for not letting anyone else into this section of the Tower for the moment.

You sat there, breathing, feeling the warmth radiating off Steve’s bicep and in return you let him feel yours, until the grip on his hair loosened; until part of his weight rested against your shoulder and his hands fell slack on the floor. Only then you spoke to him quietly, laying your hand next to his, a tentative offer he accepted after a while. Moments, long, quiet but not torturous ticked by; and after, he rasped a thank you, rising to his feet, using the hold on your hand to help you up, a shy smile – a little, broken thing –painted his lips before he returned to the party, probably feeling as hungover from the experience as you did.  

The second of the breaking points was your embarrassing breakdown at the animal shelter; that day, Steve’s arms enveloped you fully and firmly against his chest for the first time, a protective embrace trying to shield you from the hurt that was echoing from within you, coaxing you to release that pain as if he could take it and add its weight to his world-wielding shoulders. And in a way, he did.

Accepting the offer of today’s sparring session felt like breaking the third seal.

Steve had corrected your stance or grip or technique before; but sparring with any of the Avengers had been of a short supply, one that started to fill up after the Hydra incident. Yet, sparring with Steve seemed to apply to other Avengers, Bucky most of all, because they were equal in strength and enhanced reflexes.

As with just about anything, Steve gave you the chance to back out, to say no; but you recognized the very offer as one of the olive branches which he seemed to extent more and more frequently. He had arranged your training sessions with other Avengers – or at least nudged them to suggest it, you were nearly sure of it – seeing them as opportunities to bond with your teammates; but so far he had avoided inviting you himself. Not to work out but to actually spar with him.

There was something exhilarating about saying yes, terrifying and tempting at once, a cocktail you found yourself drinking bottoms-up more and more frequently when it came to opening up as well. Especially when it came to Steven Grant Rogers.

And while the first few advances during the session were reluctant, you gradually eased into it.

To ease into sparring with Steve was a thrill, a hum of adrenalin and fun in your very bones. You found yourself panting; you found yourself grinning, Steve’s praise fuelling your nearly successful attempts at taking him down.

The physical effort in trying to take down a supersoldier, even as you knew he wouldn’t purposely hurt you, was not the only reason why your heart was beating so fast; the sight of him grinning, sparkles in his eyes, arms in particular bulging since he had to keep his fists up, all that certainly played a role too.

The air in the gym was charged with something playful; and it crackled of something else too, something electric you wouldn’t dare to give a name to, but you’d gladly let it tickle your skin even if the act whispered of danger that had nothing to do with the size of Steve’s shoulders and body in general, nor his strength. Nor the scent of peak masculine that seemed to wrap around you in welcomed but suffocating manner.

Another of the exciting things – things that made your blood rush fast and heat settle in your belly deeper and hotter than you’d be willing to admit under the threat of death – was Steve’s incredibly varied style of fighting.

To someone who didn’t know better, it would seem that the fight would have had a clear choreography. To someone who would take one single look at Steve and then you, it would seem the fight was about to be about two very different forces of nature. Strength and size on Steve’s side; agility, flexibility and technique on yours. You had seen an advanced mock battle like that before, back when you were only with SHIELD – with Mack and Bobbi. These two were the embodiment of these two apparent opposites, even as they sampled from another. And Mack, the mountain of muscle he was, certainly was far from a slow hunk; but the sheer amount of his muscles did render him less agile than Bobbi.

But that could not be less true where your opponent was concerned – and the main difference between Mack and Steve, much like the reason for it, was clear as day.

Steve Rogers had not been a hunk when he had begun to learn how to fight. When he had begun, he was forced to learn how to use his smaller body with enough wit to try and beat someone almost twice his size.

He still remembered that; and seeing it in action was tantalizing and damn well distracting at times, leading your thoughts astray, down the sinful path of how well he might be able to control and execute his moves in a very different setting. Yet, a little fraction of your mind, one that wasn’t actively participating in guiding you to dodge Steve’s hits and kicks nor was busy with calming your hormones, admired that – and recognized moves from at least eight different martial arts Steve was effortlessly weaving into his advances and defence alike. And he was doing so with an exhilarated smile on his face.

It rang true to his words back in that Hydra base; he did enjoy hand-to-hand even before the serum, but only once he had learned that there were ways to outwit the enemy, a little like David had with Goliath. Except Steve was a bit of both right now and it made him not an easy opponent to beat.

You enjoyed it a little more than you’d be willing to admit, but you suspected Steve knew.

By the look he gave you when you flipped away from his kick aimed to your ribs last second, a look that made something deep within your core tremble with thrilling heat, you also suspected Steve liked it.

He teased you; he pretended to aim punch one way, only to change it last moment to keep you on your toes. He avoided your attacks, sometimes with ease, sometimes barely, because he was not the only one who had learned how to confuse their enemy to gain advantage. Still, sometimes punches and kicks landed – and you’d be bruised tomorrow even as Steve was obviously pulling his punches as not to cause fatal internal bleeding on you.

The thing was, you did no care for bruises; because more often than not, before the pain registered, it was a very different feeling that flickered to life at the point of contact and spread through your veins like a wildfire.

You had a fair amount of experience with sparring, sparring with attractive colleagues too; but never in your life you had found a hold on your fist, a forearm aligned to a forearm, a hold on your ankle, a touch to a thigh so damn intoxicating.

And intoxicating was the right word; because it was messing with your head in both welcomed and unwelcomed ways and it landed you in a trap; your heart and then your body, firmly in Steve’s hold.

You knew exactly how you found yourself in the headlock, but that was no help to you, especially since your first thought, despite the adrenalin coursing through your veins, was that Steve’s front pressed to your back was very warm, very firm and very much appreciated.

You had known you were in trouble a second before Steve’s arm closed around you. But it was too late. He already had you in his grip; and your mind had already steered into gutter, even if for a moment.

Focus.

While you could tell Steve was trying his damnest not to hurt you, his hold on you was unrelenting, not leaving an inch of space for movement besides you possibly tapping out. Which you would do about as soon as the hell would freeze over.

But there were others way of getting out and you would not give up without trying.

Judging by the firm resistance Steve put against your attempts to escape – and good god, how did he just walk around with biceps and forearms this size – he wasn’t completely shying away from his enhancement.

So neither should you.

Closing your eyes a moment, you allowed yourself, albeit with a pang of guilt, another precious moment of feeling Steve’s body enveloping you; then, another moment of indulging in the sight provided by your mind’s eye, of Steve’s large body curled around yours.

And then snapped your eyes open to that very image, your spectre materializing behind him.

There was no time to waste; Steve would soon recognize the change in tension of your actual body. And yet. You couldn’t help but simply feel for another beat of your heart. The heat of his body curled around your back as well as him nearly touching your front now, his t-shirt straining around his broad shoulders and his absurdly narrow waist that called for you to wrap your legs around it.

But you had no right to do that; and admiring his physique and indulging in his presence was not why your spectre was behind him.

Standing on your tiptoes, noticing the slight wince in his posture as he had indeed registered a change in your physical body, even if he clearly hadn’t identified its cause yet, you leaned as close to his left ear as you could, and whispered:

“On your left.”

Visibly startled, he snapped his head to the source of the sudden noise.

You’d swear you heard Bucky laugh at the other end of the gym – but you didn’t let it distract you beyond a ghost of a smile on your lips.

This was your moment; as soon as you felt was the slightest loosening of Steve’s hold, you seized the opportunity, snapping back. And for all Steve’s fast reflexes, he was not quick enough to stop you from escaping the previously perfect headlock when his first instinct was to grab after the new attacker – your spectre – his fingers only brushing air by the time he did so.

He was not quick enough to react to straighten his posture either, to catch you or his wits before you were curling under his empty arms and sweeping his legs from under him, and causing him to land with his back on the mat with a surprised huff and a thud so powerful it nearly shook the floor under your feet.

You knew he let you win when you managed to climb on top of him and pin him down; but it still felt pretty good to outwit him a little. And to straddle him, holding down his hands which he could with no doubt laughable ease free from your ordinary human grasp.

He huffed a chuckle as he let his head hit the mat, before his gaze found yours again.

“You’re playing dirty.”

For but a second, a tiny but loud voice in your head snapped at you to apologize this instant for cheating, to respond appropriately to your superior berating you; but he wasn’t. There was no malice in Steve’s voice. If anything, he seemed amused, lacing his words with the smallest hint of admiration and praise.

Who knew Captain America himself would approve of sneakiness?

You. You did. These days, you knew. But seeing, hearing and feeling was believing; and all your senses registered that it was all kinds of fine and it inflated your chest with a feeling unknown, of which you were beginning to believe equalled what people usually felt when coming home.

It was a feeling pumping up courage straight into your veins.

One corner of your lips lifted in a smirk mirroring Steve’s, even as your chest was rising and falling rapidly after the exertion needed to get him on his back. “Using what I have. What’s your excuse for holding back, Captain?”

He was holding back; despite the fun and valuable lectures you were gaining, you could see as much and feel it every time he landed a hit. Sure, the aim of sparring was not to beat each other senseless; but he was holding back a little too much. He seemed to be enjoying himself too; but he could do a lot better.

“What I have,” he retorted, a serious note lacing his voice, causing you to sober up a fraction. “It’s dangerous not to. You know it is, better than anyone. You felt it.”

You had felt and were feeling all sorts of things indeed; and you understood his point. But as your mind wandered several directions, some less decent than others, it occurred to you just how, professionally speaking, rare your chance to spar with Steve was.

“Well, one might argue about the opposite being true. The numbers of enhanced people and Inhumans keep rising. And if our biggest escapade yet told us anything, it’s that the serum will always be a hot issue,” you reasoned and despite your rather compromising position, you could tell Steve was genuinely considering your words. “It’s a matter of time before I run into someone with enhanced strength and reflexes in the field… they might not have your level of skills, but still. We’re wasting an opportunity for me to learn how to fight them better.”

The shift in atmosphere following your words was almost palpable, filling your lungs with regret; Steve gulped, all humour bleeding off from his face, dark thoughts gathering like clouds over the sunshine that had been in his smile.

It was obvious he saw your point; you just weren’t sure why you had made it, when it meant disrupting the previously perfect flow and playful atmosphere. A moodkiller, were you? You had been having such a good time earlier.

Then again, that was hardly a surprise, was it? Good times didn’t last; not for you. Sooner or later, you’d taint them with your presence, with your past, your lack of finesse and skill or doomsday mindset. Always.

Your felt your body turning rigid, cold despite the sweat running down your back, ribcage tightening, your gaze growing absent as you retreated into the maze of your mind and memories, every step taken backwards leading you deeper and deeper between the walls that knew no escape-

-and the tender touch to your hand pulled you right back, Steve’s face coming back to focus. It was but a brush on your forearm; on a hand you didn’t remember taking off Steve’s forearm.

While you were still on top of him, he was on top of the situation; and while you should be having a firm grip on him, your opponent, you had someone you trusted with your life gently holding you, if by nothing else but his fingertips barely caressing your skin. There was no doom on his face, no scolding, no insult, no mocking; just intent and focus written in his surprisingly softened features.

“I just don’t want to hurt you.”

The words came out quiet, yet you felt their power shake something within you, releasing the suffocating tension in your chest, something in the air shifting towards a wholly new direction.

You didn’t think Bucky and Sam were in the gym anymore; the large room was filled with nothing but faint sounds of your and Steve’s breathing, the space expanding and shrinking at once, a whole world concentrated in the sincerity of Steve’s blue eyes.

If the third seal of touching Steve had broken by accepting the sparring session, the fourth was being broken when you allowed yourself to feel the tenderness of his rough fingertips on your skin and the firmness and stability of his body under yours.

“You won’t,” you whispered back, your faith in those words steady as the foundation of Earth. So steady you mentally propped your hand on it and rose to bravery, reaching a decision that somehow felt like losing the ground under your feet and enjoying doing so. “I trust you, Steve.”

“With your life?” he questioned softly, gaze roaming your face, trapping you in a world of its own.

Distantly and vividly at once, you recalled the conversation you had led in the med bay almost a month back, a shiver running down your spine. And it was not at all unpleasant.

Knowing in your core that the decision you had reached was the right one, you released a shaky breath, throat tight with both anxiety and overwhelming relief.

“That too.”

Then, a beat of silence. You were fully aware of what you were saying; what you were hinting had.

And you knew that Steve, brilliant, brilliant Steve, was too, because even with his ability to appear stoic – ability you could proudly say you had penetrated more than once – his expression changed. A subtle shift in his features; a drastic one.

Transforming with something you were suddenly terrified to read.

For ten frantic beats of your heart, you observed him with dreadful anticipation, before the weight of your own words became too much, panic attempting to seize you as you fought with vigour not to show the crucial realization that had dawned on you.

You just made a mistake.

You had misread the situation, you had misread it all.

You basically told Steve you were ready for a shift in your relationship; but it was too late.

Steve wasn’t interested anymore, even if there was something in his eyes that appeared so damn soft after your admission and you’d swear you had seen a glimmer of want in those widened pupils during the sparring session. But you were wrong.

He had been content with the blooming friendship, the spark needed for romance already gone, rationality overtaking whatever feelings had possessed him earlier, the realization you were too much work, too much to handle and not enough of anything else overweighting his previous courage to try with you.

You had missed your shot; and you just exposed yourself to judgement.

Before the emptiness of losing something you had never actually had could swarm your body completely with pain you wished was only spectral, a loud thud from the other part of the gym – making you realize you were very much not alone – froze the sensation in its progress.

On autopilot, you climbed off Steve swiftly, offering him your hand even as the idea of you lifting the hunk of muscle Steve was was laughable at best.

You did not feel like laughing.

You cleared your throat, forcing a nonchalant smile, nonchalant tone, nonchalant everything.

“Two out of three?” you offered, thanking all gods you ever heard of that Steve accepted your hand with the same amount of nonchalance, his hand warm and firm around yours.

You tried to smile despite feeling like projecting your spectre to damn Australia just so you didn’t have to deal with the brutal confession you had so irresponsibly and stupidly gave out.

And yet. There was something shockingly warm in Steve’s expression as he nodded, giving you hope you hadn’t messed up as cardinally as you thought, his gaze a little absent as if he was just as lost in his own mind as you wanted to retreat into yours and never leave.

Not wanting to give into hope nor the despair, you did what you always had; you shoved the incident and possible consequences deep within where they couldn’t hurt you momentarily, desperately latching onto the workout itself. You tried to tell yourself you should cherish the blessing of spending time with Steve, even if it might be the last time before you’d go back into the shouting matches and two strangers living and working in close quarters mode.

“Sure. Have at it, Spectre.”

He made a little gesture with his hand and he raised his arms for defence, determination that somehow appeared to reach beyond besting you in combat appearing on his face and making your heart tremble with everything but fear.

“I will. But no holding back. Not that much, at least.”

The brief smile passing Steve’s lips felt somewhat meaningful, a warning sending your heart into frenzy; but whenever had it not.

“Don’t worry, Spectre. I won’t.”

If there was one thing Steve could do really well – among many others, because of course he did – it was delivering on his promises.

He was not holding back; or at least he was holding back on holding back, and the results were immediate.

His smile grew wider, his energy practically sparking, his movements faster and considerably more challenging than before. He allowed himself to let go; and he leaned fully into you doing the same, the stakes rising, as much as the fun. And tension.

A very palpable tension you couldn’t deny, air heavy and delicious in your lungs, your heart once again racing from more than the insanely intense workout.

Steve went – almost – all in. And damn, was that a challenge, like a steep hill to climb; quite a literal one, since Steve was a mountain of muscle.

What a sight.

A cheeky smile when you tried to trick him with projecting again; his grip a little firmer, growing even more difficult to escape it when you weren’t sure you wanted to; not when he spared a playful remark, his breath brushing your skin and sending shivers down your back. Huffs of laughter when you squinted at him after every unsuccessful attempt to get him on his back.

His attacks were much more successful; and it wasn’t just the speed and the strength.

It was the stamina.

Which was a thought that sent your mind to the gutter more than once, but you could not let it. Not even when he got you on his back with an embarrassingly loud thud on the mattress.

He had tired you out; that was what had had you done. So much that you remained lying flat on your back for several seconds, blinking and catching your breath.

Steve’s panting form appeared in your field of vision, his cheekiness and thrill of a friendly and surprisingly challenging fight erased and quickly replaced by concern.

“Did I hurt you? Are you okay?”

It was sweet. Almost.

You huffed, unable to hold back the stink eye when the concern disappeared from his features, replaced by mischief.

“What do you think? … I’m fine. Completely fine.”

As he offered you a hand, one corner of his lips quirked up in painfully contagious amusement.

“Then stop napping. Come on.”

And you did.

By the third time he bested you, you felt like you were supposed to take that nap; because hadn’t it been for him, you might have sprained something, if not broken.

If there was one thing you were better at than Steve, even if it still was an annoyingly close call, it was gymnastics. You moved a little faster, was able to stretch a bit further, flip over to avoid hits more effectively.

Until you didn’t.

With your movements growing sluggish, the power behind your punches less explosive, your jumps reaching lower, you missed a step; you failed to put enough strength into your take-off. Like a lightning, the realization hit you mid-flip that the landing would not be pleasant, let alone graceful – and your body had no chance to react properly in time, not with how slow your motions had turned.

Squeezing your eyes shut, muscles strung for the impact you braced yourself for, you swore to yourself you would not cry out in pain, clenching your jaw for a good measure.

And then you were landing in something solid and warm and safe and the world was tumbling and spinning until it stood still except for the two sets of frantic heartbeats and laboured breaths, everything coming back to focus.

The everything being Steve securely holding you to his chest as you sat your ass on the ground, your legs bend over his outstretched thighs.

Snapping your eyes open, you met his worried blues roaming as he was already taking count of your possible injuries – which were zero thanks to his save. Ears ringing from the unexpected tumble, warm proximity and the intensity of Steve’s gaze, it flashed through your mind that had Steve ever decided to quit his job, he would probably make good money as a top spotter in gymnastic due to his reflexes and quick thinking like that.

And you’d love to return to professional gymnastics if he had, because landing in his arms did things to your heart that might not be healthy, but were certainly entirely pleasant, every single of your senses sinking into him. The heat radiating off his skin, the musk mixed with his cologne, the taste of his breath on your lips, his beauty still so startling from up close, and finally his voice, husky with worry.

“Are you alright?”

Very much so, you wanted to reply, lost in the deep sea of blue with sweet green speckles; lost until you realized he was asking because you might have nearly broken your neck with the awkward flip.

You cleared your throat, trying to blink away the haze.

“Uhm, yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Thanks to you,” you mumbled, licking your lips as your gaze flickered to Steve’s mouth, the heat surrounding your body suddenly unbearable with the improper thoughts it awoken.

He had caught you because he was your superior. He was responsible for you and he was your friend and he cared, and he would feel awful if you got hurt, because he had been the one to suggest the sparring. It would be completely unprofessional and low of you to use the position it had landed you in as an excuse to taste those lips for real-

You shifted in his embrace, a clear signal you wanted him to release you – even if you didn’t – his hold on you instantly easing, causing you to release the breath that caught in your chest when he had so sincerely asked you if you weren’t hurt.

He smiled at you as he let you to climb to your feet first, joining you swiftly once you weren’t in his way.

“Are you sure you’re-”

“I’m fine, Steve. Really… “ you reassured him, even as you felt your stance being a little shaky from exertion. “And thank you. Really.”

“Happy to help. Should we take a break?”

You looked at him incredulously, trying and failing to asses if he was being serious or teasing you; the way one corner of his lips quirked in a smile did not help your assessing process.

But for once, you were done. Any further sparring would probably ended up in you truly hurting yourself.

Not to mention it wouldn’t be fair.

“Steve if you haven’t caught me, I’d be on my back, probably with something broken. I think it’s safe to say this counts like the third point for you… and even if it didn’t, you’d get me on the ground within a minute. This,” you gestured vaguely on the mat where you had been sitting, in his arms, across his lap, FOCUS, “just proves I stand no chance anymore. You won. Fair and square. Congrats. And thanks for not letting me win just because.”

“Just because?” he questioned, the other corner of his lips turning higher too, his eyes sparkling with something that made your stomach flutter.

Just because I like you? his smile seemed to say, but that might be your fatigue and slight dehydration putting ideas in your head and it was not what you meant. Entirely. You weren’t that confident.

You cleared your throat as you reached for your water bottle. “Just because you’re a gentleman.”

You took a generous sip, eyeing Steve as he shrugged.

“I try. But I wouldn’t-“ You raised your eyebrow at him, making him chuckle self-deprecatingly. “Okay, that’s fair.”

You smiled too. “I’d say. Now, I made a fatal mistake – I didn’t agree on the wager before losing. So, what’s it gonna be, winner?”

Your own question, the admission of losing, took you by surprise; it felt so much lighter than you’d expect. Looking back at how you and Steve interacted in the past few weeks, it shouldn’t have. But it did.

Had this happened two months ago, you’d try to bury yourself six feet under for the humiliation alone. But a lot had changed since then; and you might still be learning, but you were trying your best to see things without actively assuming everyone thought low of you just because you weren’t perfect.

And right now, the thing was that Steve would not mock you for losing against him. He would not throw it to your face that you had asked him not to hold back and he wouldn’t automatically assume you had done so because you were being cocky and that led to him beating you; if anything, the look on Steve’s face whispered of respect. He might have won, but he had seemed almost impressed every time he got a point on you, as if he admired you for holding your own against him for so long. Whenever he had offered you a hand to get up, firm and gentle at once, a combination that you read in his actions in him more and more often, it wasn’t a superior offering a hand to a weak member of his team; as absurd as it sounded, it was almost as if an equal was offering a hand to an equal.

As if a friend was genuinely offering help to their friend.

And with something in his gaze speaking louder than words, the line of friendship was blurring with each passing moment.

But friends or not, you owed him; and unlike what you’d be two months ago, you weren’t afraid of being at his mercy. In fact, there were scenarios flowing in your mind where the idea of being at his mercy appeared more than appealing.

But this was not the time; as far as you knew, it might never be the time.

You shook off the thought for your own wellbeing and as not to be a downer, again.

“Come on, Steve. You’ve earned it. What’s the pay up? Publicly stepping up during training and declaring you’re a better fighter which everyone already knows, or wearing a ridiculous costume to a meeting?” you suggested, chuckling nervously under his intent gaze, not sure what to make of it. Had you been wrong and had he planned some diabolical task? Surely, he wouldn’t… right? “Or buying you coffee for a month, doing your laundry, vacuum cleaning and cleaning up, being stuck on rewriting mission logs duty-”

“Have dinner with me.”

You almost dropped your bottle at the soft offer, your heart skipping a startled and unfairly excited beat. His voice was so quiet and tender you were half-convinced you had suffered a blow to the head which you couldn’t remember and you were now hallucinating.

Except Steve continued, a little more firmly and steadily as he took a reluctant step closer, his gaze never leaving your face.

“Have dinner with me,” he repeated. “Not because I won, I don’t care for that. I’d never use that or anything else to force you, I hope you know that. But… have dinner with me… as a date. If you still want to.” He licked his lips, the motion drawing your gaze like a magnet, almost distracting you from how nervous his smile appeared all of sudden. “Earlier… you said you trusted me. Did I misread it?”

Of course.

Of course he had understood immediately and of course that his determination, one that had seemed to encompass more than met the eye, had been about more than winning. Now you knew what; and not for a second you’d think he was trying to force you into anything, had been plotting ever since you had told him not to hold back. You knew in your very core this was not something Steve did, because he had been so wonderfully patient and kind and maybe a little bit flirty and every single touch seemed to carry meaning and you had grown closer, you had learned things about him that kept revealing him as even more of a beautiful person that you had ever imagined, but if there was any doubt that all, it was that perhaps with his out-of-charts reading skills, you had forced him to act when you had suggested you might be ready for more.

You didn’t really believe Steve could be pushed into something he didn’t want to do, but the worm of insecurity was nestled deep. What if… what if?

“You’re not wrong, Steve. You’re… an attentive reader. I just…” You shook your head, an unsure smile playing on your lips, causing him to frown, an expression you were quick to avoid by casting your gaze downwards. “You don’t have to… you know, just because I said that, you don’t have to-“

His sneakers entered your field of vision, causing you to gulp, your eyes briefly flickering up; before you could escape the weight of his gaze again, his index finger slid under your chin and pushed up in a gentle touch that had you shiver, butterflies swarming your belly as you lost yourself in the blue of his eyes like many times before.

His damn touch; so soft and meaningful, barely there and yet leaving a brand you’d proudly wear any day-

“No, doll, I really do have to, because if I read it right and if you’re ready to try… I’m not letting this chance slip through my fingers. I think you are beautiful, brilliant, incredibly driven and strong. You make me laugh, you make me question everything I know, you keep me on my toes and I enjoy every single minute of getting to know you, of being with you, in any capacity, and… I’d like it to continue, preferably over a dinner,” he said, a little innocently teasing smile in the corner of his plush lips as if his thumb wasn’t mere inches from your mouth, as if his fingertips hadn’t brushed along your jaw while he had been talking, almost subconscious movement it seemed, as if your heart wasn’t beating its way out of your chest because he had easily weaved a year worth of compliments into asking you out on a date, as if something within you wasn’t trembling and he hadn’t laid something beautiful and terrifying and delightful at your fingertips, as if he wasn’t at your fingertips, the most breathtaking mirage that made your lips tingle with the need to meet his.

At your stunned silence, a shadow of self-doubt masked as the lightest chuckle, his hand dropped from your face. Much to your regret.

“It… it doesn’t have to be a dinner, it can definitely be different kind of meal. Or… not a meal, it can be something different, maybe a museum or a picnic in a park or… anything you’d like, I’d just… I’d like it to be something where I get to treat you right.”

Your urge to kiss him senseless and your body’s need to melt where you stood grew exponentially with every word, something acutely warm and suffocating and overwhelmingly good blooming in your chest, the nerves now lacing Steve’s voice only fuelling the sensation; because it seemed even Steve Rogers could be in a situation where he needed to gather a little courage and was willing to show it to you, because he trusted you and shared with you.

There was no saying no to this, especially since he was still standing so damn close to you, looking at you like he had meant every damn word he said, as if that truly was how he saw you despite everything.  

“Well… uhm, I’d really love that,” you choked out, his smile making its return with brightness, causing you to feel giddiness you didn’t know you could feel, your lips curling up in a smile before you could stop it. “But it hardly seems fair, does it?”

Steve’s eyebrows rose a bit, his expression telling you he understood you were only teasing him now. A little. The majority of you was just you trying to distract him while you processed the fact he seemed taken by you for some reason – the reasons he had listed to make his case – and just asked you out and you had basically already said yes and he was still so close and tall that you could just stand on your tiptoes and-

“Hm, what does?”

What had you been talking about? Oh.

“Well, I lost the match… and this makes me feel like a winner.”

The flicker of something tender was brief, but it was certainly there before a brilliant grin took over, his hand enveloping yours, thumb brushing over your inner wrist just above your sparring glove. The simple touch sent an outrageously intense electrifying feeling up through your body. You weren’t sure you could survive a date with Steve, but damn would you try; for all the touches you had exchanged before, this one was charged with something deliciously new and expectant, the air in the room almost crackling as Steve took your other wrist into a gentle hold as well.

“I don’t see the issue with that… and since I am the winner, I make the rules. So… that’s a yes, right?” he asked once more for confirmation, the thinnest thread of uncertainty among the delight making your body act before your brain caught up.

You simply couldn’t resist. Well-aware the room was already empty, feeling like million bucks despite losing – and truly, losing had never felt and would never again feel so good – you quickly stood on your tiptoes, using Steve’s hip as a support, and pressed a feather-light kiss to his cheek, retreating just as fast.

You didn’t miss the fact his gaze flickered down to your lips as you stepped back and unwittingly escaped his hold, your lips still burning from the brief touch to his skin.

“It’s a yes,” you assured him, voice a little shaky from the adrenalin coursing your veins. You couldn’t believe you just kissed him; on a cheek, yes, and it should not affect you like you were a blushing girl in a kindergarten, but the warmth in Steve’s eyes and the new hint of pink to his cheeks told you perhaps you were not alone in your giddiness and nerves. It felt empowering and silly all at once; and sweet and beautiful. Almost as beautiful as Steve’s smile shining with the power of thousands suns after receiving the simplest of affections. “Let me know when and where.”

“I will. …stretch with me?”

For the second time, you couldn’t quite help your reaction; but this time, your brain was much faster than it should have, the – given the environment innocent – suggestion somehow connecting with planning the date in your mind in the most inappropriate manner.

You sputtered, glad for not having taken another sip of water just yet, and burst out laughing despite there being nothing laughable about Steve helping you stretch or helping you stretch.

The tips of Steve’s ears turned bright red with fascinating speed, his face a hilarious image of pure horror.

“Oh no, I did not mean-“

“Sure you didn’t, Steve,” you choked out between laughter, his embarrassment turning into exasperation at your childishness. And you’d believe it if the laughter wasn’t already glimmering in his eyes. “Sorry, sorry, yeah. Sure, let’s… stretch.”

“Great, let’s-”

“I could use a partner for stretching, haven’t had one for a while,” you hummed nonchalantly, a smirk threatening to break as something exhilarating flashed in Steve’s irises at your – given the environment innocent – confession. Whether his pupils dilated from surprise or something dangerously resembling desire, you weren’t sure – but it made you want to giggle and laugh and cry, your cheeks beginning to hurt as well as the rest of your body.

Your grin only widened when Steve opened his mouth without a sound coming out, before resigning to reaching for his own bottle, using it as a pointer.

“…I didn’t mean that. You know that I didn’t--- of course, you do,” he stumbled over his words a bit, sighing when he could see your amusement only growing, shaking his head with a lopsided and slightly incredulous smile. “You’re trouble… I think I like it.”

He only thinks? He isn’t sure? echoed in your head, but you didn’t let the flicker of insecurity get to you. Not now. Not after this lovely incident that shot up your confidence all the way to the high ceiling of the gym.

“Maybe I should cause trouble more often then, Captain.”

Identifying the spark in Steve’s eyes as want, you smiled to yourself, not quite sure what to do with yourself, but knowing this must have been what being happy and in love felt like.

“Yeah. Maybe you should.”

Second part of epilogue

Series masterlist // S.R. masterlist

Thank you for your patience and for reading 💕

The second part of the fluffy epilogue should come soon enough, since it's already written (...it's how I found out this one hasn't been posted 🥲)

May the endless January begone, welcome February - may it be kind to you 💕

[ktrivia]

Dream a Little Dream of Me

Summary: A dreamwalker who has been in the heads of everyone from the most famous to world-leaders finds herself in Steve Roger’s dreams more than once. The Avengers don’t take kindly to people walking through their minds un-guarded, so what happens when Steve discovers her antics and takes her back to Avenger’s Compound for information?

Chapter Notes: Welcome to the rewrite of a fic I started writing years ago called “All Men Dream” This story will be a Bucky/Reader story, but we need some world building first before he can come in. Stay tuned for him starting in the next chapter! Hope you enjoy!

Next Chapter ->

Chapter 1:

“Move Meatball!” I yelled as I tried to forcibly remove the petulant fluff ball from the sink he occupied.

“I’m trying to brush my teeth dammit,” I muttered as the cat finally moved, white face scrunched in indignation.

“It’s bedtime! You know he goes to sleep early.” I rationalized, hoping the feline understood my plight. He meowed indignantly before hopping onto the toilet lid and staring at me. I wet the toothbrush, coated it in toothpaste, and began brushing as I looked over at Meatball.

“Stop judging me,” I demanded weakly as I brushed. “I have fun with him. It’s not hurting anyone, and besides he has no idea I’m there anyway.” The cat’s head tilted to the side.

“It’s not like I planned to stick with him for long,” I stated after another moment. I couldn’t help but feel like he was judging me. After spitting in the sink and rinsing my mouth, I picked up the judgy fluffball and carried him with me to the bedroom. As I walked, I kept rationalizing my decision to him, as I had done now every night for the past month.

“Captain America just has the best dreams. Classic 1930s fun. He goes off to the dance hall and I get ice cream. It’s a win-win,” The cat laid down on the foot of the bed, ignoring my rambling. After moving to turn off the light, I crawled under the covers. As I shut my eyes, I thought of the face of Steve Rogers.

When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in the middle of a hustling New York City street, but rather than the modern cars rushing by me, Hudson’s and Packard’s scooted past. A grin pulled at my lips as I took in the bustling sidewalk full of people in outfits that seemed like they were from a different world. As one woman passed, I flicked my fingers, changing what I wore to match her. Instead of the pajamas I fell asleep in, I now donned a loose frilly day dress.

I took a cursory glance around, searching for Steve Rogers himself, and saw him stalking towards a darkened alley. What the exhibit in the Smithsonian said was true, Steve Rogers always stood up for the little guy and that included in his dreams. Every so often he’d disappear down a Brooklyn alleyway to recreate a fight from when he was a kid. He could go pummel every bully in Brooklyn for all I cared, because I was off the dance hall. His distraction was simply my gain.

I did my best to stay out of Steve’s way while I was in his head. Science says we only dream of faces we’ve seen before, and while that counts the people we’ve seen in passing, I didn’t want to risk Steve one day realizing that a certain face was appearing every time he slept.

Moving with the crowd, I worked my way down the street towards the Dana eh all glancing down the alley Steve had disappeared into as I passed it. I may not interact with him directly, but I also wasn’t going to let the guy have a nightmare. The last time I’d crashed one of those had been a doozy and I didn’t want a redo. I squinted into the darkness, lingering for just a moment, but didn’t see Steve. Dammit. He must have already fought the bully, which meant he’d be off to dance with some dames.

With a disappointed sigh, I pivoted on my chunky heel determined to head to the soda shop instead. A root beer float would cheer me up.

I felt a prickle on the back of my neck, like someone’s eyes were on me. No, no, no, no…

Turning slowly, I saw Steve Rogers standing across the street, stare drilling into me.

Fuck.

Hiding my panic, I gave him a soft smile, hoping to convince him I was just some woman happy to be acknowledged. I swiftly turned down the alley, bending the surrounding shadows to cover me. My mind was racing, trying to think of every possibility and option.

I could jump out of the dream, but then I’d never be able to come back and this little place had become my happy place. Sure, I could recreate it in someone else’s head but it wouldn’t be the same. Besides, planting false dreams into others mind’s wasn’t really my style. Steve could have thought I was just a pretty damn who he wanted to speak to. A snort left me as that thought came and went. No one glared at someone they thought was hot with that much anger.

That left the final and worst option: Lucid Dreaming. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, the dreamer could alter their own dream and had awareness of their actions. If Steve was lucid dreaming then all bets were off to what he could do. How did I miss the damn trigger though? Normally lucid dreams had some kind of barrier for the dreamer to cross, some kind of force they had to beat before they gained control. After a lifetime of doing this, I was quick to catch when a lucid dream was coming and bail before shit hit the fan.

Any planning was in vain, as a large hand harshly grabbed my shoulder, turning me quickly towards them. That would leave a fucking bruise.

“Who the hell are you?” The Captain demanded as he glared down at me.

“Oh, hello sir. I was just trying to get home, but I think I made a wrong turn,” I said sweetly, playing dumb.

“Who. Are. You?” He asked again, eyes burning. Looking around, I tried to find something I could use to distract him but the alley was empty. Blood dripping from his knuckles caught my eye. Damn. The bully or whoever he fought in this alley must have been the trigger for his lucidity.

“You have about ten seconds to tell me why you’re in my dream before this gets nasty,” he warned at my lack of an answer.

“A dream? Darling are you saying you dream of me?” I asked, batting my eyelashes in one last ditch effort. I really didn’t want to give up this slice of paradise.

“You’re coming with me…” Was all I heard before I cut connection.

“Fuck!” I yelled as I shot upright in bed, gasping for air. Movement at the end of my bed had me panicked before I realized it was Meatball attacking my feet under the covers.

“Well Meatball, you were right. Shouldn’t have hopped into the Captain’s dream tonight.”

After a night of fading in and out of a dreamless sleep, I got up to get ready for work. Losing my new happy place made for a depressing morning, especially as I was about to go into my unhappy place aka my job. Greg was a dick and could go fuck himself with a cactus if he tried to het me to make his marketing plan for him again.

I went through the motions of eating breakfast, getting dressed and saying goodbye to Meatball. I locked the door of the walk-up with a sigh, heading down the stairs into the streets of modern day Brooklyn. Glancing around, I couldn’t help but note how boring this was compared to Steve’s dream world, but it was what it was. The stifling heat of the city blasted into me and I could feel myself already starting to sweat through my work blouse. At least the office was only a couple blocks down the road, or else I really might have quit by now. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I checked the screen, noting no notifications.

“Shit!” I yelled as I stumbled backwards after running into what felt like a brick wall. A hand shot out to catch my forearm, keeping me steady. After a deep breath to steady myself, I looked up to thank the person for catching me and then chew them out for not watching where they were going. Looking down at me was a familiar pair of rage filled blue eyes.

“Shit,” I muttered again, this time for a totally different reason. Falling on my ass would have been much better than this.

“It’s you.”

[skyfallslayer]

The Darkness In Me - Masterlist

-Kingpin!Matt Murdock x Vigilante!Reader-

Main Masterlist

🖤 Summary: You were shocked to find out your childhood friend turned out to be the Kingpin of the underworld, but you had to put those thoughts aside to bring him down. You were Hell’s Kitchen vigilante, its protector. There's no valid reason not to stop him. However, when your hidden feelings for him start to surface once more, how will you be able to even think about bringing him down?

🖤 Pairings: Kingpin!Matt Murdock x Vigilante!Fem.Reader

🖤 Rating: Mature - Explicit

🖤 Warnings: At the beginning of each chapter (This series will contain 18+ themes)

🖤 Word Count: 25,966

🖤 Start Date: 8/8/23

🖤 End Date: N/A

🖤A/N: For those who aren't the biggest Marvel fans, I'm going to give you a little backstory behind this fic. This story is based on the "Spider-Gwen" comics where in this universe, Earth-65, Matt's origin story is very similar to the one where we already know, except Stick was killed by the Hand and takes Matt under their wing. He's turned into an assassin, but still goes to law school and eventually becomes Wilson Fisk's defense lawyer. Somewhere along the line, Matt cuts ties with Fisk and becomes Kingpin himself. This story was kind of a 'A-ha!' moment, and I decided it would be interesting to see this take on Matt with a reader insert. Don't know how many stories I'll do, but if you readers seemed to like it I'll keep going :) Enjoy!

-INDEX-

🖤 Story 1: The (Wo)Man Without Fear

Summary: After all these years away, you’re finally relocated back to Hell’s Kitchen, the place where you were born, a place filled with happy memories. However, the city is not what you remembered, and when your job as a detective is not enough to save it, you might have to become something more.

🖤 Story 2: Auld Acquaintances

Summary: Deciding you have no choice anymore, especially how your new partner scares you half to death, and the police in this city seemed not to care, your hundred percent committed to becoming a vigilante. But before you could do this, you run into an old childhood friend and his business partner. But unknowingly to you, he’s not the same little boy you remembered hanging out with. He’s… something else entirely.

🖤 Story 3: Kingpin & Daredevil

Summary: Your night trying to save a kid takes a dangerous turn. Now fighting to stay alive after a possible life threatening injury, you soon find yourself face-to-face with the man that runs this city’s underworld: The Kingpin. Aka… your childhood friend.

🖤 Story 4: Snapdragon (Coming Soon)

Summary: Your world is officially upside down. Your small taste of nostalgia has been ruined by what you discovered. Now, you’re out on investigations with Frank, and decide to dig deeper on other cases to take your mind off things. But of course, you always had the worst luck, and nothing can make your heart stop when you find the King of Darkness in your living room.

🖤 Story 5: A Euphoric Misery (Coming Soon)

-Taglist Is Open-

@utterlynuts @etanordoesbullsh1t @mattmurdocksstarlight @l3xiluve @lunaticgurly @margoo0 @swift-enchanted @athenniene

@up-in-space-reading @itwasthereaminuteago @lazyxsquirrel @yeonalie @scoliobean @kayden666

@nkmblackhyuuga @nk1023 @queenofnigthdarkness @badbishsblog @nornawerdandi @lov3vivian @mixedfandomthings @crispyfunstarlight

[callalillywrites]

Accidental Switch

Created for @steverogersbingo. D5 - Body Swap

I had every intention of writing this as a vignette of a fuller story, but I couldn't figure out what I wanted to portray. I didn't necessarily want to start at the beginning of it, but I also knew that starting anywhere else would require some (and even possibly extensive) back story to make it make sense.

So, you're getting a moodboard/storyboard of it instead for the moment. It'll also be the image that I'll use when I get the chance to sit down and write this into a fuller story.

Basic Gist: An accident in Tony's lab has you switching bodies with Steve Rogers. Not necessarily a big deal, right? Wrong! You have the biggest crush on the super soldier (and he you though you don't know that). Plus, you have -- had -- powers that stayed with your body while you're now having to deal with handling everything that comes with his body. Strength, heightened senses, big. So very big body compared to yours. It's going to take some time to get you both back to rights, but Tony and Bruce are on it. In the meantime, you and Steve are just kinda stuck with having to adapt and deal with the differences in each other's bodies and all the shenanigans that can come with that.

Yep, that's what I've got so far as I'm still planning this one out, but I do hope to have at least a basic outline and possibly a couple of parts out before the end of the year. (Along with all my other stories I need to work on.)

[pixiesbored]

chat I'm clawing at my enclosure.

I'm trying to find a fan fiction and it has bucky as the love interest x a older poc reader who has like earth/nature based super powers. the eternal were also in it, more so druig, but I cannot for the life of me find it or the creator.

someone please 🙏🏽

please please please please please please please please help me find it 💀🙏🏽

[theconstantsidekick]

I’m sorry to his might just be a dumb question but I started your stark verse series and why can’t y/n age?

not stupid at all. i have written a very overly complicated story because i am a complete asshole lmao. i'm constantly surprised that people are still interested in this fic verse. but coming back to your question, even though it's not clear what her parentage is, y/n stark is definitely not completely human. one of her parents was an alien, the other was human. her alien parent is responsible for the powers that she has.

she hasn't yet discovered which was which but if anyone is curious about it i do have a backstory for that too.

for a little more insight into her origin, you could read the Age of Ultron flashback or the Himbo and the Gnist.

[creative-caramel-coffee]

The Bear || Chapter 2

Pairings: Wanda x R || avengers (platonic) x R

Word count: 3K

TW: swearing, violence, hangover, injury, fainting (more like getting knocked out but ok), implied trauma, vomiting, medical inaccuracies (maybe maybe not), concussion (+ adjoining symptoms)

Summary: You join your uncle tony in the avengers, it wasn’t your original plan but you never planned for your powers either so here you are. Now your at the avengers tower and falling for the girl of your dreams. With a haunting past and interesting abilities can you navigate your way through the challenges of being a hero? After a mission gone wrong and a cruel twist of fate the team starts digging for answers. Can tony keep them from finding out the truth?

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7

A/n so far i have four chapters planned out for this series so i hope you guys like it lol

The next morning when you woke you were grateful for nat making sure you hadn’t made a complete fool of yourself. Your splitting headache subsided slightly with the pain medicine and still in your pjs you slipped on your fluffy triceratops slippers and shuffled out into the kitchen. Wanda’s breath caught in her throat when she saw you. You were so cute with your bed head and pj’s with the cutest slippers she had ever seen.

“Ahh theres the party animal.” Tony said slapping you on the back.

“Too loud.” You groaned “need coffee.” After nudging tony away nat pressed a warm mug of coffee into your hands.

“Im not sure how how you like it but its better than nothing.”

You took a sip humming at the taste as your shoulder slumped in satisfaction. “Perfect nat thank you.” You said shuffling over to the table and sitting next to Wanda.

“It’s Clint’s morning to cook so we’re having pancakes. I hope thats ok.” Nat said sitting on your other side.

“Sounds perfect.” You grinned.

“You obviously don’t know Clint very well then.” Nat teased and laughed when she felt a burnt pancake hit her in the back of the head thanks to Clint.

“Shuddup” he huffed and went back to cooking pancakes.

About half an hour later the team was sat munching on the pancakes Wanda had cooked after Clint nearly set the tea towel on fire trying to fan the pancakes which were also on fire.

“Damn these are really good thanks Clint.” You teased and Wanda rolled her eyes zapping you with a small flick of red magic. You burst out laughing and nearly choked on the pancakes but nat started smacking your back hard enough that you stopped. She handed you some water and you shot her a grateful look as you took small sips.

You were about to make another comment when Jarvis piped up.

“Ms Maximoff, Ms Romanoff and Ms L/n director fury is requesting your presence in the meeting room.” Jarvis said and you groaned in sync with Wanda as nat stood up.

“Duty calls.” Nat winked and dragged you and Wanda out of the kitchen.

It was a simple mission really. Nothing you hadn’t done before with tony before … well … before everything. So far nobody had seemed to question your ability to fight like a pro or the way you naturally seemed to have all the experience to match some of the older team members like Natasha or Steve even. But they had just assumed tony had trained you or more likely paid someone else to train you. They could not have been more wrong. But you preferred it that way.

You threw a few things in a bag before stripping down and changing into your new suit tony had designed. By spinning your ring on your left pointer finger left then right then left again the suit appeared starting at your finger tips and then melded over the rest of your body. It was red and black. Kind of like peters suit but the mask was a skull mask. You weren’t ready for the world to know who you were and you had valid reasons for it. Throwing a few knives onto your belt and a gun on your waist you stepped onto the jet a few minutes before Wanda. Wanda did a double take at your outfit. She had to admit you looked pretty badass. Black combat boots, your mask, your suit and an old tactical jacket with the logo ripped off the sleeve and chest made you look awesome.

As you stepped off the jet you walked up to Wanda deciding to take a chance and get some adrenaline running. You whispered in here ear your lips almost touching her neck. “I love the outfit, but I’d love it more on the floor of my room later tonight.” With that you went on your tiptoes and kissed her cheek. Wanda flushed, the two of you had been flirting for a while but nothing so outright as of yet. Until now. Wanda couldn’t wait until the mission was over. Carefully she tried to retrain her mind trying to focus on the mission.

The mission was going well, good even. Nat had taken the floor above and Wanda the floor below. You were in the middle. Te hydra base was nearly empty on a skeleton crew. Things were going too well and you knew your luck would run out soon. Rounding the corner and walking down a long hallway you stopped and pressed against the wall hearing voices in the room beyond the door.

“Nat” you whispered into the earpiece. “I’ve got company.”

“Ok I’m coming, Wanda meet me at y/n’s location. Do not engage until we get there.”

Your luck however had finally run out as the door opened and the men saw you.

“Shit” you swore and pulled out your gun. Dodging the bullets and taking out the guards was second nature although you were a bit rusty. Once most of the men had fallen or run you entered the room cautiously. When suddenly a guard appeared from nowhere and punched you in the face. Your mask cracked and fell to the floor. Your cheek bled from where it had cut you. Quickly you took the man down. After taking a minute to breathe you heard a slow clap. Your body stilled, swivelling on your heals you pulled you gun on the man and froze. It was him. The man who had haunted every night terror you had since you escaped. Your blood ran cold. Ice stilled in your veins and you were afraid your heart would stop beating. Hell it felt like it had. Your breathing stuttered and you didn’t register Wanda and Natasha arriving still frozen in place.

“Guards.” The man said and before any of you could react a burly man threw you into the wall. Your head collided with a sickening crack and you fell slumped on the floor, back still against the wall, out cold. “Y/N!” Nat yelled and ran over to you while Wanda jumped into action and fought off the two men who escaped.

Nat held you close to her in her lap and check you over. She knew you would have a nasty concussion and a hell of a headache when you woke up. But what concerned her most was that you froze. She had never seen you so afraid before. And it puzzled her why this seemingly random hydra scientist had such an impact on you.

“Wanda can you cover us?” Nat said into coms “we need to get her out of here she’s out cold.” Nat said and Wanda agreed.

Careful not to jostle your head nat scooped you up and carried you bridal style in her arms out the room. Carefully she jogged slowly making sure the action wasn’t moving your head too much until you could be properly assessed by Bruce back at the compound. Wanda stayed close behind making sure to cover the three of you and taking out any of the guards along the way. Nat had actually just gotten what they came for moments before you ran into trouble so at least the mission was a success in some senses.

When the three of you finally reached the jet Wanda carefully took you from Nat’s arms who gave a tight nod before going to pilot the jet. She would be back once they were up in the sky and she could put Jarvis in control.

Wanda laid you down on the floor with your head in her lap. The jet didn’t really have anywhere else for you to lie down so the floor was the best option. She carefully stroked the hair from your eyes and inspected the cut on your cheek. It wasn’t deep but it was bleeding. Reaching for the first aid kit without standing up she used her magic to bring it over. Carefully she cleaned the cut with some anti sceptic before putting on a plaster to keep it clean. And because you wouldn’t know any better she pressed a small kiss to the bandaid and stared lovingly down at you. Sure she was worried you hadn’t woken up yet but you looked so peaceful lying there. Carefully she checked your pulse and was glad to feel it strong adjacent her finger tips. She hummed and went back to running her hands through your hair. She paused momentarily as your eyes fluttered but stayed shut. Carefully you opened them winced and then closed them again.

“Don’t stop” you murmured and Wanda smiled softly before running her hands through your locks again. “‘S too bright” you mumbled and used your arm to cover your face. Wanda carefully pulled your arm away.

“No none of that. You need to be carefully y/n/n you probably have a nasty concussion and we need to get you to Bruce before you start touching your head.” She said and pulled you closer to her front as you were now fully curled up in her lap. Tears pricked your eyes as the headache hit you in full swing.

“Aww bubs come here.” She said hating to see you in pain. she pulled you closer again and you hummed into her stomach as she still was carefully stabilising your head. Wanda giggled slightly at the vibrations on her skin and hummed in content. Soon after Natasha returned and sat beside Wanda.

“You two look comfy.” She smiled.

“Shhh too loud.” You whimpered and both girls hearts broke for you. Nat hadn’t been speaking loud at all you simply had one of the worst headaches you had ever felt in your life. You buried your face into Wanda’s stomach again and missed the concerned looks the girls exchanged before looking back at you. They smiled slightly at the soft snores they heard coming from you a few moments later.

“Should we wake her up?” Wanda asked concerned

“No she probably needs all the rest she can get its a long flight home anyway. Also here take this you never know if she’ll need it.” Nat said handing Wanda a plastic sick bag.

“She might be sick?” Wanda asked raising a brow and badly hiding her concern. Nat simply shrugged.

“It can happen with bad concussions so its better to be ready than be covered in it.” She said masking her own worry better than Wanda could.

You slept for a few hours before you felt the plane start to descend. Without opening your eyes you felt yourself being lifted from the floor and the warm tingling of Wanda’s magic surround your head as she carried you inside keeping your head stable with her magic. You turned you face into her chest and she chuckled slightly.

“You sure are cuddly aren’t you.” She said smiling softly and you simply gave a sleepy hum of agreement.

“Come on cuddle bunny lets get you to Bruce baby girl” she said mind running back to the way you had kissed her on the jet before the mission. She wanted more but knew you needed help first. She would ask you to be her girlfriend later your head was more important right now anyways.

Nat’s silent footsteps followed Wanda as the three of you headed towards the med bay, nat had alerted Bruce already that you were coming. They were almost in the clear, nat still had the sick-bag in her hand as you stepping into the lift. However your stomach and head did not like the jolt as the lift began to move and nat noticed your face pale as the nausea peaked.

“Y/n/n? Are you ok?” She said carefully. You shook your head as a spike of pain hit and a slight green tinge took your skin.

“Gimme that.” Wanda said urgently as she used her magic to put the sick bag under your chin. Because she didn’t have any hands free nat quickly went to help Wanda. Guiding the sickbag to your chin and holding it there with her nimble fingers. A second later you threw up into the plastic sick bag and sobbed slightly as it made the pain in your head worse.

“Shhh shh shh” Wanda shushed whispering encouragement and sweet nothings in your ear as you heaved again. Nat frowned at you feeling bad you were sick and she couldn’t help. Nat held the hair from your face as you finished and went limp in Wanda’s arms. Body no longer tense as you stopped throwing up. Nat brushed the hair from your face and e your eyes fluttered they knew you were awake ad hadn’t passed out again, you were simply exhausted.

“Are you done y/n/n? Not got any more?” Nat said carefully

You weakly hummed a no snuggling further into Wanda’s chest. Nat took the bag away deciding to believe you. She wasn’t grossed out she and Wanda had seen much worse. She tied off the bag and as the lift opened the two of them stepped out, you still in Wanda’s arms as nat went to find Bruce and discard of the bag.

Wanda went to set you down on the bed, freezing when you began to whine as she was concerned she had hurt you.

“Y/n?” She said sounding alarmed, if you were sick again she didn’t have anything else to give you. “Whats wrong sweetheart?” She asked carefully.

“Stay” you said in a small voice as you tugged the collar of her shirt. She was pleasantly surprised and sat on the medical bed with you laid on-top of her. A moment later nat and Bruce arrive and nat raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything but Wanda’s cheeks heat regardless. Bruce hurries to your side gently positioning you so he could see your face and he began to feel the back of your head. After hearing you were thrown into a wall he wanted to first check the site to make sure there was no bleeding.

Satisfied there was just a large bump he laid you against Wanda again. Wanda hummed and noticed nat was holding another sick bag, she raised a brow at her and nat mouthed ‘just in case’. Wanda nodded and drew circles on your back and Bruce shone a light in your eyes to check the pupils reaction. After a few more tests and a scan, Bruce determined that you had a bad concussion which made nat scoff as she predicted it from the start.

He said you were free to go back to your room but to stay away from screens, bright lights, loud sounds and to rest for a bit. He then turned to nat and Wanda and told them they would need to monitor you just in case due to the severity of the concussion. Bruce said that if you got worse or they grew concerned to check in with him and if needed bring you back to a reevaluation. He rattled off a short but concerning list of possible symptoms to expect but reiterated concussions were different case by case. He handed nat a couple more sick bags before discharging you with some pain medicine. Wanda sighed as she realised you still weren’t going to let go. She stood with you in her arms still. Its not that she didn’t want to spend time with you but she did simply want a shower. This time the lift didn’t seem to set you off but nat was ready regardless. As Wanda walked into the room you were glad you had put your drawings of her and nat away before you left. Your sketchbook was on the bedside table along with your pencil-case of essential supplies. You clung to Wanda who sat on your bed.

“You take a shower I’ll take the first shift.” Nat said peeling you out of Wanda’s arms and taking her place on the bed.

You nuzzled into her still only half understanding what was going on.

“Thank you i wont be long.” Wanda said shooting nat a grateful look as she headed for the door.

“Take as long as you need we’re gonna have our hands full with this one.” She said jabbing a thumb at you while you began to snore softly in her arms. Wanda held back her desire to coo at your cute form, instead she settled for a shower and slipped out the door.

You barely remember nat feeding you the pain medicine but you do remember it tasted like burnt cardboard and paint. As an artsiest you had eaten your fair share of paint, accidentally of course. Painting before lunch and then it getting in your food. Only small amounts though nothing harmful.

Wanda returned a while later and swapped spots with nat who carefully handed you to her and by some small miracle you stayed asleep. Wanda prayed you would stay that way until nat returned from her shower, she knew how to care for people and despite being experienced she felt out of her depth with you, she didn’t want to make a mistake and hurt you in anyway. But she knew she wouldn’t.

MASTERLIST

[myinconnelly1]

All the Luck in the World pt 1

Masterlist

Warnings: Canon Violence, Character injury, canon gore, needles,

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds x OFC

Word Count: 805

Summary: With all her luck, Jinx has to wonder if it's good or bad. When she meets Bob, she starts to get her hopes up.

Having reclaimed the watchtower, and saved everyone from the Void, the Thunderbolts felt comfortable letting Bob stay in his room.  After all, they had missions now.  They had come out of the whole trauma as heroes – the New Avengers.

“You sure you’ll be alright?”  Yelena asked as the team prepped to leave.

“I’ll be fine,” Bob responded.  He looked around the watchtower uncomfortably.  It had only been a few days, and he still wasn’t completely sure where he stood with the team.  Yelena patted his cheek in a comforting way.

“Stay up here, Bob,” Walker said almost patronizingly.  Bob hadn’t explored much of the watchtower but agreed that was for the best.

It had been hours when he heard the doors slam and saw the team heading for medbay.  Alexi was carrying Ava and John had another woman in his arms that Bob didn’t recognize.

“What happened?”  Bob asked as he raced to them but stayed out of the way.

“Ava tried to save her from some crossfire, but she phased at a bad time and caught some strafing.  She’s going to be okay,” Yelena said seeing some of the panic on Bob’s face start to fade.

They set about seeing how bad the damage was.  Luckily, Ava was going to make a full and speedy recovery.  The damage from the bullets was all superficial due to her gift.

“What about the civilian?”  Alexi asked as he put some bandages on Ava and she sat up.

“She’s bleeding pretty bad,”  Bob said quietly and to no one in particular.  He had recently decided he didn’t care for the sight of blood.

“She’s been shot,” Yelena said holding gauze to the woman’s chest.  “Walker?!” She groaned as the Agent reached past her and yanked something from around her neck.

“What’s that?”  Bob asked.

“Dog tags,”  Walker said inspecting the metal necklace.

“What?”  Yelena asked as she reached for a sewing kit.  “She’s gonna need blood,” Yelena signed as she grabbed more cloth.

“O Negative,”  John said as he looked up from the tags and around the group.

“Of course, she would have the rarest blood type,” Ava groaned.  She put her hand on the bandage that Alexi had put on her.

I’m A positive,” John said, looking to Yelena and Alexi as they both shook their heads.

“Maybe Bucky?”  Ava said, but Yelena shook her head.

“She doesn’t have that much time.  I have to pull this bullet now before this gets worse.

“Me,”  Bob said it so faintly, that no one really heard him.  “I mean, I-I’m O Neg,” he said louder.

“That’s a bad idea,”  Ava said looking to the rest of the team.

“Oh well,”  John shrugged as he grabbed Bob by the collar of his sweater and pulled him over.  “Unless you want to rob a blood bank, we don’t have other options.  Let’s just consider ourselves lucky.”

“Easy for you to say,” Ava muttered pointedly.

“What the hell is happening?”  Bucky asked as he locked the door to the watchtower.  Yelena had a scalpel and tweezers while she leaned over their civilian, and John was preparing to tap the IV line between her and Bob.  Alexi was bringing a bigger light source over to help Yelena and Ava was gathering disinfectants and other supplies.

“We didn’t have time to wait,” Yelena grunted as she pulled the bullet from the woman’s shoulder.

“Here,”  John said, as he threw the dog tags to Bucky.  Something about the woman’s face had caught Bob’s attention and he had completely zoned out to everything else.

“You’re gonna kill her,” Bucky said looking from the IV line to John and to the woman.  These are obviously not her dog tags.  The date of birth on here is for a ten year old!”

“I don’t think it’s a date of birth. It also doesn’t have a name on there.  Just JINX, whatever that means.”  John said shrugging.  He wasn’t about to start double-guessing himself now.

“O neg is a universal donor,” Bob whispered.  He turned away and looked at the team, before wringing his hands and shrugging from where he sat.

“If it kills her, we will know pretty quickly,” Ava said looking over to Bucky.

“How did this even happen?  You glitch out and a civilian gets shot.  Why was she even in the line of fire?  Some of the worst luck I have ever seen.”  Bucky sighed.  “You guys should have taken her to a hospital.”

“The watchtower was closer,” Alexi said shrugging.

“She seems stable,” Yelena sighed.  She took the IV from the civilian’s arm and attached it to a blood bag.  “You should try to get this full, but don’t go too long.  We don’t want you to pass out.”  Bob nodded, taking the plastic container that was now holding some of his blood.

Next

[purifiedclitoris69]

Cool Off

Natasha Romanoff x Enhanced!Reader

Summary: A hot-headed, cocky pyrokinetic Avenger struggles to control their powers—and the growing tension with Natasha Romanoff.

You weren’t born a hero. Hell, you’re still not sure you want to be one. But somewhere between the burning buildings and the broken bones, you became something they couldn’t ignore.

Your powers showed up early—violent, untamed, and triggered by rage. One minute you were a kid being cornered by people who thought they could hurt you, the next you were standing in the middle of an inferno, untouched, heart pounding, hands still glowing. You didn’t cry. You didn’t apologize. You liked the power.

As you grew, so did the fire. So did the attitude. You learned to own it—your temper, your heat, the way flames lick at your skin like they know you. People called you dangerous, reckless, impulsive. You called it survival. Eventually, you stopped flinching when they whispered “monster.” You started smirking instead.

Now you’re the walking wildfire of the team—hot-headed, loud-mouthed, and impossible to ignore. You talk big because you can back it up. No one wants to spar with you in the training room. You’ve melted more than one combat dummy and set off multiple fire alarms just breathing too hard.

And yeah, you’re cocky. Arrogant, even. But beneath the fire and the biting sarcasm, there’s something else. A need to protect. A need to matter. You’ll never admit it out loud, but these people—this dysfunctional team of weirdos and warriors—they’re the closest thing you’ve ever had to a family.

You’d burn the world down for them.

All they had to do was light the match.

Being part of the Avengers means being part of a dysfunctional family—emphasis on dysfunction. You’re the chaos in the calm, the match everyone forgot was lit until the whole room’s up in smoke. The team keeps calling you a “loose cannon”, which is ironic considering you’re also the one they call when things go really sideways.

You get on everyone’s nerves, but they’d be lying if they said they didn’t love you.

Steve tries to keep you in check. Keyword: tries. He’s constantly telling you to “watch your temper” or “think before you act,” and you just grin and ask if he wants you to knit a sweater and write in cursive next. He lectures, you roast him, but there’s a weird father-figure comfort in the way he never gives up on you—even when you’re blowing holes through the training room walls.

Sam? He’s your sparring partner and your verbal sparring partner. The two of you bicker like siblings on a long car ride. You steal his food, call him Birdbrain, and he threatens to throw you off the Quinjet every time. But if anyone outside the team ever looked at you the wrong way, Sam would be the first to step between you and danger

Clint is your partner-in-crime. You once dared him to shoot an arrow through a flaming hoop you made mid-air. He did it. You high-fived. Nat screamed. It was a great day.

Bruce is wary of you. Understandably. He says you “remind him of a bad day.” But he respects your strength and sometimes lets you hang around when he’s working in the lab. You don’t push him, and in return, he gives you space when the fire under your skin starts burning too hot.

Wanda gets it. She sees the fire in your head as well as the one in your fists. You two share a quiet understanding beneath all the sarcasm. She’s the one who talks you down when your temper edges toward dangerous. You never admit it out loud, but sometimes when the nightmares come, it’s her voice that helps you breathe.

Tony loves the fire. It’s entertaining to him, he can’t comprehend how dangerous it is to fuel. Always matching your sarcastic remarks or commenting on the guests that leave your room. Sometimes you think he lives to see you react—burn.

And then there’s Natasha.

Your dynamic with Natasha is… complicated.

From day one, the two of you clashed. She’s ice; you’re fire. She’s calculated; you’re impulsive. She walks into a room and sizes it up like a chessboard. You? You kick the door open and set the board on fire just to see how the pieces scatter.

She says you’re a headache. You call her uptight. She rolls her eyes when you flirt, and you flirt harder. It’s almost a game now—this push and pull, this unspoken dare between you.

You call her Natty, just to get under her skin. You wink at her in briefings, lean too close when you’re teasing, whisper “You love me, admit it,” like it’s a joke. She scoffs, mutters something sharp, and walks away before anyone sees the corner of her mouth twitching up.

But beneath her cold exterior and your loud bravado, there’s something simmering—something that neither of you touches directly. You feel it when her eyes linger too long after a mission, when she patches you up in silence and her fingers hover just a second longer than they need to. You feel it in the rare moments she lets you see behind her walls, and it terrifies you more than any fire ever could.

She gets on your nerves. You get under her skin. And yet, when everything’s falling apart, she’s the one you find standing beside you—silent, steady, and always watching your back.

Maybe it’s love. Maybe it’s danger. Maybe it’s both.

But whatever it is, it burns.

———

You weren’t exactly recruited—you were contained.

After your powers triggered a four-alarm inferno in downtown Berlin during a run-in with a mercenary crew, SHIELD made a call. Fury showed up, grim as ever, and gave you two options: be a weapon for someone else, or learn how to control your fire with people who won’t flinch when you burn.

You chose the Avengers.

It’s been six months. Six long months of testing your limits, pissing off Rogers, burning through reinforced training mats, and learning that your powers don’t just react to anger—they thrive in it.

And Tony? God, Tony’s made it his life mission to poke the metaphorical bear.

———

You’re in the hangar, fresh out of a debrief that felt more like a public execution. Tony wouldn’t shut up about the “scorch marks” you left on the Quinjet floor, and Fury went off about “restraint, discipline, collateral damage, Wildfire, damn it!”

Your fists are clenched. Smoke rises off your skin in thin wisps, heat radiating off you in thick waves. The air itself wavers around you.

Everyone else had the sense to leave, but Natasha?

She leans against a crate a few feet away, arms crossed, like she’s watching a particularly unimpressive fireworks display.

“You done throwing your tantrum?” she asks, arching a brow.

You whip around. “Back off, Romanoff.”

“Original,” she mutters. “You burn a hole in the floor again and Fury’s going to tan your ass.”

“I said back off,” you growl, eyes flickering orange. The fire is crawling up your arms now, licking your shoulders. You’re shaking. The control you’ve spent months building is crumbling fast.

Natasha doesn’t move.

“Breathe,” she says, quietly now. “Unless you want to turn this place into a kiln.”

“Don’t pretend you care,” you snap, voice cracked with heat. “You’re just waiting for me to slip up so you can say I told you so.”

“Oh yeah,” she says dryly, pushing off the crate and walking toward you, unbothered by the scorched floor or the way your body temperature is climbing. “I live for watching your emotional meltdowns. Better than Netflix.”

You laugh once, sharp and bitter. “God, you’re such a—”

But then she’s closer. Her voice drops, no longer playful, but not unkind either.

“Look. I know what it’s like to feel like you’re about to come apart. To be the weapon everyone expects to misfire.”

Her eyes search yours—calm, sharp, unsettlingly gentle.

“You don’t have to prove anything. Not to Stark. Not to Fury. And sure as hell not to me.”

Your breath hitches. The fire falters, sputters, confused. You blink and realize you’ve been trembling. Not with rage. With fear.

You don’t even notice your knees give out until she catches you.

Not gently, but not coldly either—just… present. Strong. Real. Her arms steady you, her touch cooler than your skin, grounding like ice on a burn.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, your voice cracking.

“No, you’re boiling over.” She smirks faintly. “Shocking, I know.”

You snort, half-laughing through a breathless exhale. “You really know how to comfort someone.”

“It’s a talent,” she says. “Now come on. Let’s get you cooled off before you burn off your eyebrows again.”

You look at her—really look. And in her expression, under the teasing and the sarcasm, there’s something soft. Something vulnerable. Something that mirrors the mess inside you.

You’ve always flirted with her, joked and prodded and pushed—but this is the first time it feels dangerously real

And maybe, just maybe, you’re not the only one who’s afraid of what happens if that fire ever turns inward—if the two of you stop fighting it.

You’re still shaking, the fire inside you reduced to embers that stubbornly cling to your skin like static. Natasha doesn’t say much as she guides you through the compound—hand on your arm, firm and warm, a silent anchor.

You expect her to take you to medical, or maybe one of the training rooms. But instead, she wordlessly leads you down the hall toward the Avengers’ private lap pool, tucked away behind reinforced glass and sterile white tile.

She flicks the lights on. They hum softly as the water glows a cool, blue-green.

“Strip,” she says, already kicking off her boots.

You blink. “Wow. Should’ve lost control sooner.”

She glares. “Don’t flatter yourself, Wildfire. You’re a human flamethrower and you need to cool off.”

Still, there’s a twitch at the corner of her mouth—half-smirk, half-internal war. You mutter something about bossy redheads and peel off your shirt. Your skin’s flushed, your chest still rising too fast. The moment your feet touch the water, your body sighs—like the fire inside you exhales all at once.

Natasha doesn’t cannonball or dive. Of course not. She slips into the water like it’s part of her, all grace and calculated movements. She ends up floating beside you, eyes half-lidded, arms spread over the surface like she’s waiting for the silence to say what neither of you has.

“So,” she finally says, voice softer than you expect, “you wanna tell me what that was about?”

You shrug, eyes trained on the pool tiles. “Tony pushed. Fury barked. I snapped. What else is new?”

“That’s not all of it.”

Your jaw tightens. “I’ve spent most of my life being afraid of what I am. People flinch when they look at me. I get too angry and I become this… thing.” You swallow. “And part of me likes it. The heat, the power. It scares me, and I think it scares them too. I’m not like you, Nat. I can’t hide what I am.”

She watches you for a long moment before speaking.

“You think I don’t know what it feels like to be turned into something you didn’t ask to be?” Her voice is low. “I spent years being shaped into a weapon. Made to bury who I was. Smile when ordered. Kill when told.”

You turn your head, meet her eyes. She’s close now—close enough to feel the ripple of her breath across the water.

“I see the way you fight it,” she continues. “The way you laugh and push people away before they can do it first. It’s not just heat you’re holding back.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Not yet. But something softens in you.

“I didn’t think you noticed,” you finally say.

Natasha tilts her head. “I notice everything.”

You chuckle under your breath. “Of course you do.”

There’s a long pause. The water moves between you in gentle waves.

Then you say it, quieter than anything you’ve said during your time with the team.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

She blinks. That cool composure falters for half a second—cracked, not shattered. She glances away like the admission struck something unguarded in her.

“That’s dangerous talk,” she says, voice a little too even. “Especially from someone who lights up like a damn matchstick.”

You smirk. “Maybe. But it’s true.”

Silence again. This time, heavier. More charged.

She shifts closer, and now you’re inches apart—warmth meeting warmth, though the pool should be cooling you both. Her eyes flick down to your lips, just once, before she glances away, guarded again.

“You don’t scare me,” she murmurs.

You blink. “Why not?”

She looks at you, expression unreadable. “Because I’ve danced with fire before.”

Your breath hitches. But neither of you leans in. Not yet.

Instead, you float there in the quiet tension—words unspoken, feelings barely contained—letting the water carry what the fire left behind.

For once, you don’t feel like you’re about to burn the world down.

You just feel seen. The silence between you stretches on, taut and electric.

She’s still watching you from beneath those long lashes, eyes dark in the soft shimmer of the pool lights. That unreadable expression—cool, controlled, calculating—is starting to crack. You see it in the way her fingers twitch in the water, in how her mouth parts like she wants to say something but won’t.

You move first.

Not because you’re bold—but because you’re done pretending.

Your hand brushes her arm under the water. Testing. She doesn’t move.

Then you shift closer, and your voice is nothing but a whisper:

“Say something, Romanoff.”

She meets your eyes. Her voice is low, rough. “Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I say what I want to say…” Her pupils flare with something raw. “I’m not going to be able to stop.”

You inhale sharply. “Then don’t stop.”

And just like that, the match ignites.

She surges forward, closing the space between you with a force you don’t expect—but crave. Her hand grips the back of your neck, the other splashing up water as it finds your jaw, tilting your face toward hers. And then—

She kisses you.

It’s not soft. It’s not slow. It’s not hesitant.

It’s devastating.

Mouths colliding in a desperate tangle of months of tension and biting sarcasm and flirtation that meant too much. Her lips are hot against yours, her body pressed to yours like she’s trying to erase the space that ever existed between you.

You groan into her mouth, hands gripping her waist, pulling her flush against you in the water. She lets you. She wants it. You can feel the shiver roll through her as your fingers splay across the small of her back.

Her legs wrap around you before you even register it, and the heat between you has nothing to do with your powers now. Your heart is pounding. You feel like you’re burning alive again, but this time it’s not dangerous—it’s hers.

When she finally pulls back, your foreheads rest together, breath ragged, water rippling wildly around you both.

You whisper, “So, uh… that was…”

“Shut up,” she breathes, lips brushing yours again.

And then she kisses you again—slower this time, but no less intense. A confession written in the way she leans into you. A vow hidden in the way her thumb traces your cheek under the water.

For the first time in a long time, you don’t feel like a weapon.

You just feel wanted.

And when she finally whispers your name against your lips like it’s a secret—barely audible, almost reverent—you realize you’re already undone.

[controld3vil]

IF YOU CARE

pairing(s): lensless!invincible x reader

synopsis: In this version, where Mark only ever saw you as a comrade, you were spared the worst. You escaped the fate that awaited you in every other reality.

notes -> dare i say he's my fav variant.... reader has hellfire powers (backstory inspired by raven from teen titans) cw: slight angst, canon typical violence

The Invincible War erupted, and everything shattered. Entire cities fell, crumbling under the weight of unrelenting destruction. Thousands of lives are snuffed out with every passing hour. The world seemed to spin out of control, and every known superhero and villain on Earth rushed to its defense. But why? Why Earth? Why this planet? Day by day, the world weakened, a hollow shell as the Invincible doppelgangers tore through everything in their path, leaving nothing but ruin in their wake.

Not even the GDA could stand in their way, and they couldn’t reach you until hours after cities like Chicago and New York had been obliterated. 

Cecil, the head of the GDA, was the first to contact you as you sat in the quiet of your living room, watching the television blare with the devastating news. Headlines flashed – each more grim than the last. The damage was escalating by the minute, and with every rescue team sent to save the lives of the innocent, more lives were lost. The world felt like it was coming apart at the seams. 

“You seeing this?!” Cecil’s voice crackled through the phone, sharp and frantic, sending an uncomfortable twist through your gut. You’d never heard him like this before – not once, not since… Since everything fell apart. You grabbed the remote, silencing the TV as the sound of chaos from the broadcast still hung in the air. Your eyes shifted to the window, watching the dark sky stretch over the city, a subtle sense of dread creeping up your spine.

“These fucking Invincible variants are everywhere,” Cecil snapped, his irritation thick with something darker, something bordering panic. 

“Where do you need me?” It wasn’t concern that pushed the words from your mouth, nor worry about yourself. It was the promise you had made to the GDA months ago, after Omni-Man’s destruction of Earth. Cecil had worn you down, tried to convince you over and over to join the fight, but you’d always refused. You’d never been interested in joining some cheesy, pretentious superhero team. But now? Now the world was burning. Now, there were no more excuses. No more questions. You didn’t need to ask how you’d deal with it. Cecil will give you the coordinates.

A heavy sigh echoed through the line, exhaustion weighing down on Cecil’s voice. “The Guardian’s headquarters. One variant’s tangled up with them, and I need someone to make sure he doesn’t walk away from this fight.” 

It wasn’t that Cecil didn’t believe in Immortal and the others – they could handle powerful foes, sure. But this wasn’t just any enemy. This was Invincible. The strongest person on Earth, now multiplied. Eighteen versions of him, each with the same terrifying strength. Cecil needed someone who could match that raw power, someone who wasn’t afraid to step in when things were beyond even the Guardian’s reach.

The gravity of it all settled in. You didn’t have to say anything more. 

“You got it.” You didn’t waste a second, immediately dialing your watch to set your coordinates for the Guardian’s headquarters. The familiar ding echoed in your ear, confirming your destination. You paused for a moment, the weight of the situation creeping up on you. 

“How long do you think this will last?” The question slipped from your mouth, though you already knew the answer would be a hollow one. 

“God, I don’t know.” Cecil’s voice was tight, raw with the tension of the situation. “But the numbers don’t lie. We’re looking at a catastrophe, with lives on the line by the second. You need to go – now– before it’s too late. “ 

The finality in his voice made your stomach twist, a cold sense of urgency washing over you. No more hesitation, no more questions. You were already moving. 

In the next breath, the world around you warped and shifted, the familiar comfort of your home replaced by the stark, sterile walls of the Guardian’s headquarters. The air was heavy with tension, filled with the metallic tang of battle and the distant sounds of chaos outside. You’d prepared for this moment, tucked away your emotions, and steeled yourself for the inevitable. But nothing could have prepared you for what you were about to witness. 

As you made your way through the facility, the reality of the destruction that had already been wrought and the carnage still unfolding hit you like a wave. This wasn’t some distant theory anymore. This was real.

As you drew closer to the barricade, the air was thick with the piercing, frantic screams of those caught in the confusion. Hang in there, Immortal. The words resonated in your mind as you steadied yourself, fingers brushing the switch hidden at your waist. Every step brought you closer, but you could feel the weight of what was pressing down on you. You never imagined it would come to this – not in a million years. Never would you have thought you’d be the one forced to end Invincible’s life. He and Cecil had never seen eye to eye – his opposition to the GDA was clear, but you always respected him. Hell, you admired him. He fought for his family, for the ones he loved with a determination that you could claim for yourself.

You didn’t have that kind of bond. Not the way he did. When the GDA took you in, they gave you something to fight for, but not like that. You couldn’t help but wonder how different your life might have been if someone had fought so fiercely for you as he did for them. 

“Man, you guys are great! Has anyone told you that?” The alternate Invincible’s voice was filled with gleeful excitement, completely devoid of remorse for the destruction he was wreaking. It was as if he was savoring every moment of it like he was enjoying playing the lives of others for sport. “I wish I could’ve fought you all in my world!” 

“You monster!” Immortal shouted, his body surging toward the doppelganger, fists flying with explosive force. “You’re nothing but a pale imitation of Invincible!” 

But the variant barely flinched, almost as if Immortal’s rage was beneath him. His eyes glinted with dark amusement, a twisted smile creeping across his face as he weaved through his punches, savoring the power he held over the Guardians. It wasn’t just a battle to him – it was a performance. And he was relishing every brutal second of it. 

It was unnerving how effortlessly this Invincible absorbed the blows. He looked identical to the one you knew – same yellow, black, and blue suit – but the absence of the familiar goggles left the mask slightly askew, offering a glance at his face. That small glimpse, however, was enough to send a chill down your spine. The eyes that stared back weren’t the eyes of a hero. 

“I mean – I don’t need any more motivation to kill you. But sure, insult me.” There was something deeply unsettling in his words and smile, a twisted satisfaction that lingered like poison in the air. He delivers a sucker punch right beneath Immortal, propelling him straight up. 

But he didn’t expect the searing, agonizing heat of fire. Not just any fire – hellfire. It burned through his suit, sharp and relentless, as the flames pricked at his skin. He spun in mid-air, his expression shifting from cocky amusement to genuine surprise as he locked eyes with you. Hovering a few feet above, he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“Well look who it is!” His grin stretched wider, and you noticed the blood dripping from his mouth, the unsettling detail sending a jolt of tension through your chest. Instinctive fear gripped you, cold and unrelenting. “Nice to see you, babe!”

You hummed, taking slow, deliberate steps toward him. “Hey, how’s it going?” Your voice was a perfect mask of indifference, deadpan and steady, your gaze unwavering. Every fiber in your body was focused on him, eyes locked onto his every movement. You could feel Immortal somewhere nearby, floating in a daze with a shattered jaw. But for now, you’d play along with his twisted game – wait for the right moment to close the distance.  

Invincible’s eyes raked over your figure, utterly unfazed by the absurdity of the situation. It was a chilling thing – how easily he could make this moment feel like something else entirely. “God, you look good!” he smirked. “Say, why don’t we do a little one-on-one, huh? For old time’s sake?” His feet lowered slowly, hovering just above the ground, but not enough for you to act – yet. “Actually, did the me from this world ever get to–” His voice trailed off, curiosity glinting in his eyes, but you felt his confidence faltering just enough for you to know that the game was far from over. 

“No,” You remarked, your tone casual. “We’re not exactly close.” But there was something in his intense stare that unsettled you – something that told you he wasn’t sharing everything, that there was more beneath the surface. “But I’m guessing in your world, that’s not the case.” 

“Sharp as ever,” he commented, a slight admiration in his voice. You could see his defenses lowering, just for a moment – a crack in his composure. You knew you needed to seize that opening. “God, I’ve missed you.” 

You raised an eyebrow, the faintest trace of surprise crossing your face. “Really?” you asked, voice steady, trying to mask any hint of emotion. Knowing how highly sensitive Invincible’s ears were, you fought to keep your cool, burying whatever reaction threatened to surface. 

But it was difficult. The entire situation was absurd, like some twisted dream, a distorted reality you couldn’t fully understand. Because the truth was, you’d never been close to Invincible – not even in the slightest. If anything, you were only acquaintances, by virtue of Cecil’s influence, a fact that had always kept the distance between you two. And that was probably the biggest barrier to any kind of connection – his life, his choices compared to yours were completely separate paths, never intersecting.

You worked for Cecil, and despite all his moral wrongdoings, you empathized with it. He had often justified his actions with the words, the greater good, in that you knew the cost of it would do. And yet, you stayed. You were bound to him, just as your parents had bound you, long before you could even understand the gravity of the pact. You were the result of a deal made in the shadows, your very existence tied to secrecy that shaped your role in this world – the dark passenger, the one who stalked the dead, the agent of the sacrilegious world. Damien Darkblood would’ve been the first to concur that you were always the outsider, never belonging to either side.

Invincible, on the other hand, had lived a life before all this. He’d had the luxury of freedom – to grow, to experience what it meant to be human before the weight of the world fell onto his shoulder. The weight you, on the other hand, were born into. The fabric of your very existence already sealed your fate long before you could even question it. Your paths were never meant to cross, and yet here you were – confronting a man you barely knew, who now stood before you as an echo of the person he used to be. 

“Yeah, it was a shame we didn’t spend much time together,” Invincible said with a tone that straddled the line between genuine and condescension. “You know before I had to kill you.” 

“Huh.” It was all you could muster, a single syllable to mask the disbelief rolling through your mind. Was this really happening? Was this how it was going to play out?

“But,” he continued, his voice softening, the edges of it pulling in something like sorrow or even remnants of a past he wasn’t sure how to navigate anymore. Finally, his feet touched the ground, and he took a slow, purposeful step toward you. His dark brown eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that was all too much to bear – something in that gaze that reminded you of the inferno you had long buried inside. It was raw, it was fierce, and it was just as dangerous as the man standing before you. “Believe me when I say this… I did care about you.” 

A bitter laugh bubbled up in your throat, but you swallowed it down. You raised a brow, your gaze was firm and unwavering as you studied him. Was this some kind of joke? “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Your voice was laced with venom, each word cutting sharper than the last. You couldn’t even begin to understand what he was trying to do – what he was hoping to achieve with these sorrowful words. His confession, if that’s what you could call it, fell flat, if anything, it only stoked the flames of your frustration. 

You looked at him with wicked disdain, your expression indifferent, though behind it, a storm was brewing. His words weren’t enough to make you falter – not even close. The audacity of him to think that now, of all times, he could manipulate you with some half-hearted attempt at remorse was laughable. It didn’t stir anything in you. It only made you sick, as the man standing before you was a hollow version of what he was supposed to be. 

You had no time for his games. Not now. Not after everything. 

With a quick motion, the air around you began to warp, thick with the heat of something far more ancient and menacing than anything in the room. The flames that burned inside you, that had always burned inside you, began to flare to life. Heat prickled against your skin, and your fists clenched as a surge of power thrummed through your veins. 

Hellfire. 

It erupted from your palms into a burst of molten energy, crackling with an intensity that could melt stone. Invincible’s eyes widened as he barely managed to block the first wave of fire. The flames scorched his skin, blackening his suit, but he did not back down, Instead, he grinned – a wide, maddening smile that only angered your temper further.

“Impressive,” he said, his voice tinged with admiration. But it was also laced with mockery too. “You think that’ll stop me?”

You didn’t respond. 

With a roar, you threw another wave of hellfire at him, more intense this. The green flames surged toward him like a tidal wave, hot enough to sear through everything in its path. He dove sideways, just narrowly escaping the inferno as it roared past him, setting the ground ablaze where he had been standing. 

You summoned more, your body surging with an overwhelming heat and anger. It radiated off you in pulses, making the air itself shimmer. Invincible hesitated for a split second, and that was all you needed.

[frownyalfred]

Just re-read your fic about Clark discovering that Bruce wears glasses, and now my brain is stuck rotisserie-chickening the thought of Clark starting to wear Bruce’s prescription for the “just in case” moment where B needs his glasses for something and doesn’t have them or they get broken. And B absolutely knowing about this, because of course he does, and just casually stealing Clark’s glasses off of his face and going on with what he’s doing while Clark bluescreens off to the side. It’s the utilitarian-enough-for-Batman version of the boyfriend sweater.

Imagine a frustrated Batman barging into a Justice League meeting, yanking a pair of prescription glasses out of Superman's belt where he keeps his secret identity clothes, and stomping back out to his office where he most definitely didn't accidentally just get his glasses broken by an over-eager Flash (sorry, Bruce) trying to look at his case files. No one knows exactly what just happened except for Clark, who can hear the continued apologies from three Watchtower levels down (I am so sorry, Bruce!) and didn't even know that Bruce knew where he kept his secret identity clothes (it's obvious) but is pleased because now he knows Bruce knows about the glasses, too.

[iwudbutnah]

Can’t wait, this is such a great series. With her being enhanced and also an omega it throws other dynamics into the mix. Pissed about her being assaulted but that person will get their comeuppance with the avengers behind her. Giving her the friendship, love and respect she deserves.

Angel

Marvel AU

Pairing: Alpha Steve Rogers x Enhanced Omega Reader x Alpha Bucky Barnes

Theme: A/B/O / True Mates

Summary: It's different when you're enhanced. Everything is different, every smell, every sound, touch, feelings. The way it's different doesn't make sense unless you are enhanced. Throw in what comes with Alpha and Omega instincts, and the intensity of your presentation is even more than any other. When you find yourself in need of help you can call on the alpha you trust the most, Natasha Romanoff. You just don't expect to find your alphas at the same time. Are you really enough for them? And can you really be the Luna to the Avengers.

"To be loved, to be loved by your mate is everything." - Wanda Maximoff

Warnings will be per chapter

Sneak peek

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Okay, uhm *kinda thunderbolts spoilers ahead*

Can I please request something with (beefy thunderbolts) Bucky Barnes and a shy sweet female reader (maybe grumpy x sunshine)

With the prompts: “hell, okay shit that actually really fucking hurts.”, “just let me help you... please”

Valentina brought the reader to the tower as a new team member. The reader has healing powers and is so shy but kind and polite, everyone likes her. Bucky and the reader are falling for each other but of course they are not admitting it. Like glances from the other side of the room and the reader is so flustered. Somehow Bucky gets her to talk more and more (when the reader feels safe and trusts him, she talks like a waterfall) and they become friends.

Later the team is send to a mission and the enemies attacking the reader and Bucky runs infront of her to protect her and gets shot, then he fights with one of the the enemy. When he turns around to the reader (to check if she is okay) he gets distracted and Bucky gets stabbed. He fell to his knees and Alexei brings Bucky and the reader to the tower and went back to the others.

The reader brings Bucky to her room and is cleaning his wounds at first and takes care of him. Bucky notices that her hands are shaking and her eyes are full with tears (the reader thinks it's her fault but it's really not). He is comforting her and soothes her and she starts to heal him.

A moment later he is so caring and soft and they confess their feelings to each other 🥺❤️

I'm so sorry I got carried away, tell me if it’s too detailed or if you want an other scenario

Thank you so much 😌❤️

Not Your Fault » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Female Reader with the Thunderbolts

Summary: Bucky gets injured while he’s trying to protect you during a mission and you feel like it’s your fault and he assures you that it’s not your fault.

Warnings: Fluff, language, flirting, blood, crying, kissing, pet names

A/N: @jackys-stuff-blog thank you for the lovely request🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckyys-babydoll / divider made by me

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

You nervously fidgeted with your fingers as you rode the elevator to the main room of the tower with Valentina. You got startled a little bit by the ding of the elevator when the doors opened. You followed Valentina out of the elevator and into the main room where there was a small group of people. The Thunderbolts gathered around when they seen Valentina.

“What do you want, Valentina?” Yelena asks with annoyance in her voice.

“I have a new team member for you guys.” Valentina says.

They looked over at you. You gave them a shy smile and a small wave. Valentina nudged you with her shoulder as a way of telling you to introduce yourself to them.

“I’m Y/N.” You finally introduced yourself to them.

“Enjoy your new team member.” Valentina says.

The Thunderbolts watched Valentina leave before turning their attention back to you. They all introduced themselves to you. They’re all really nice to you, but you still feel shy around them, which they don’t mind.

“Do you have powers or abilities we need to know about?” Yelena asks.

“I have healing powers.” You tell them.

“So you can heal cuts and stuff like that?” John asks.

“That’s what healing powers do, Walker.” Ava says.

Bucky was staring at you with heart eyes as you shyly talked to everyone. He thinks your shyness is cute.

“Would you like a tour of the place?” Bucky asks.

You nodded and smiled. Bucky showed you all around the tower, showing you to your bedroom last.

“And this is your room.” Bucky says as you followed him in the room.

“Where’s your room?” You curiously asked.

“My room is right next door.” He says, pointing to the right.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to sound weird or creepy. I was just curious.” You nervously rambled.

“It’s ok. I don’t think it’s weird or creepy at all. You’re welcome to come to my room at anytime of the night if you need anything late at night.” He says.

“Ok.” You replied softly and shyly.

“Do you have any questions?” He asks.

“Not right now, but I’ll let you know if I do.” You answered.

———

It didn’t take you long to adjust to living in the tower. Bucky made it easier for you to adjust too. Everyone loves you, especially Bucky. You hangout and talk to him more than the rest of the team. You and him have become best friends with the short amount of time you’ve been living there. He has gotten you to come out of your shell a little bit. Once he gets you talking, you don’t stop talking. Bucky listens to every word you say with the look of adoration on his face. Also, you have a huge crush on Bucky and he feels the same way about you, but neither of you have admitted to it yet. The team has noticed it too.

Right now, you and Bucky are watching movies. Actually, you fell asleep in the middle of the third movie. So did Bucky. Bucky woke up to the TV lighting up the living room and you snuggled up against him. He smiles at you before checking the time on his watch. It’s later than either of you expected. Bucky shut the TV off and picked you up bridal style, carrying you to your bedroom. He gently laid you down on your bed and covered you up with a blanket. In your sleep, you reached a hand out and grabbed Bucky’s arm before he could walk away. He decided to stay in your room for the night. There’s no harm in that, right? It’s just for one night. Bucky got in bed next to you and protectively wrapped his arms around you.

“Goodnight, doll.” Bucky whispers softly and kisses your cheek.

———

A few days later, you, Bucky, and the team had to go on a mission. You guys had a meeting before it and then suited up. During the mission, Bucky tried his best to protect you and do his part of the mission at the same time. While you were doing your part of the mission, Bucky sees someone aiming their gun at you. His eyes went wide and he ran over to you, shielding you from the bullet. Bucky got shot while he was shielding you from the bullet. Then he turned around to check on you. You had a look on your face like you were about to start freaking out.

“Are you ok, doll?” Bucky asks softly.

“I-I am now.” You stuttered in a shaky voice. “I didn’t see that guy.” You say.

“It’s ok. It happens.” He says.

You nodded. While Bucky was making sure you were ok, he wasn’t paying attention to anything around him. The guy who tried to shoot you, walked over to you and Bucky, stabbing him next to where he was shot. Your eyes widened in horror as he fell to his knees in pain.

“Bucky!” You screamed.

You dropped to your knees to check on him. You looked down to see his hand on his lower abdomen. You seen blood seeping behind his fingers. Your eyes teared up. Bucky noticed.

“Don’t cry, babydoll. I’m fine.” Bucky manages to say and then winces in pain.

“You’re bleeding.” Is all you say.

Alexei wasn’t too far from where you and Bucky are when he saw Bucky on his knees and in pain. He ran over to you guys. Without asking what happened, Alexei helped Bucky up and took him back to the tower. You followed beside them. Alexei took Bucky to your bedroom and helped him in your bed.

“Thank you, Alexei.” You say.

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” Alexei replies.

Alexei left your bedroom, making sure to close the door behind him. You got the first aid kit from your bathroom and sat down on the bed next to Bucky. Normally, Bucky can tolerate pain, but it hurts a lot more this time than it did in the past.

“Hell, ok, shit. That actually fucking hurts.” Bucky groans in pain, his hand still on his abdomen where he got shot and stabbed.

“Just let me help you… please?” You say softly.

Bucky nods and takes his hand off his abdomen. He leans up just enough to take his shirt off, wincing in pain as he did so. Your eyes teared up again when you see where he was shot and stabbed. You started with wiping the excess blood from his wounds and then put alcohol on both wounds so they didn’t get infected.

“Fuck!” He winces at the sting of the alcohol.

As you continued to clean his wounds, you couldn’t help but feel like this is your fault. If you have seen that guy who did this to Bucky, he wouldn’t be in this position right now. Bucky looks down, watching you clean his wounds, noticing that your hands are shaking. He also seen tears in your eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong, babydoll?” Bucky asks softly, putting his hand on your arm.

“I’m sorry, Bucky. I’m so sorry.” You apologized profusely, your voice cracking and tears rolling down your cheeks.

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, doll.” He says.

“Yes I do. This is my fault. This shouldn’t have happened to you. I should’ve been paying attention.” You say.

Bucky props himself up on his vibranium elbow and cups your cheek with his right hand, wincing in pain as he sat up.

“I want you to listen to me when I say this, ok?” He begins. “This is not in any way your fault.” He assures softly.

“It feels like it.” You say.

“It could’ve happened to any one of us. If this happened to you, I would’ve dropped everything to patch you up.” He says softly. “I want you to understand that this is not your fault, ok?” He assures softly again.

“Ok.” You replied in a whisper.

Bucky wiped your tears away while looking deep in your eyes. Something about staring in Bucky’s blue eyes felt calming to you. He leaned up more and kissed you passionately. Now you definitely feel calmer. It’s like every worry you had in you left your body the second you felt Bucky’s soft lips on yours.

“How do you feel now?” Bucky asks softly.

“Calmer.” You answered softly.

“Good.” He replies softly.

Bucky lays back on the bed so you can finish cleaning up his wounds.

“I’m going to heal you now, ok?” You say softly.

“Ok.” Bucky replies.

“It shouldn’t hurt.” You say.

Bucky nods and looks down, watching as you hovered your hands over his wounds. A bright light shines in your hands as you healed his wounds. It took a few seconds to heal his wounds and then he was good as new and not in pain anymore. You moved your hands away to check the area of his abdomen where his wounds were. The wounds weren’t there anymore. He’s healed.

“How do you feel?” You asked.

“I’m not in pain anymore.” Bucky says.

“Good. That’s good.” You say softly.

You cleaned up everything and put away the first aid kit. Bucky noticed your hands were shaking again and your eyes were tearing up.

“Hey, look at me.” Bucky whispers. “I’m fine now.” He whispers again.

“I thought you were going to die before I got the chance to tell you that I love you.” You say, your voice cracking and your eyes tearing up again.

“You love me?” He asks, making sure he heard you right.

You nodded and sniffled.

“I love you too, doll.” Bucky says softly, cupping your cheeks.

You smiled when he said that. Bucky dips his head down to kiss you. This kiss had more passion in it than the first kiss.

“Be mine?” He asks in almost a whisper.

“I would love to be yours, Bucky.” You say softly.

Bucky smiles and kisses you once more.

“Thank you for healing me.” He says softly.

“You don’t have to thank me, Bucky. I would’ve healed you no matter what.” You say with a smile.

-Bucky’s Doll