#jamies500writingchallenge

[candy-and-writing]

Siren Song

This is my entry for @mermaidxatxheart challenge #jamies500writingchallenge with the AU Siren/Sailor. I decided to kind of put a twist on it, so I hope it still fits!!!

Summary: You are a Siren. Your voice is an aphrodisiac that lures people into a spell. The only way they can break your spell is if they sleep with you. Steve accidentally hears you singing after a mission.

Warnings: dub-con, smut, drugging, gags, restraints, fingering, oral sex, Steve waiting too long for the woman he loves

A/n: Feedback is welcomed and appreciated! I was a dumbass and waited until the day before this was due to write this, so if there are any error, please let me know :)

I am NOT responsible for your media content consumption. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and/or dark themes. By reading this work you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party app or website; if you are seeing this work anywhere other than tumblr and archiveofourown, it has been reposted without my permission.

"What's your status, Siren?" Tony's voice came through your earpiece. You finished flattening out the line of your dress, taking a sip of your champagne before you answered.

"So far, so good. I have eyes on the target, let me finish my drink and I can engage—"

"No!" Steve spat in your ear, making you flinch. "Y/n, do not engage, do you understand?"

You scoffed. If Steve didn't want you to engage, then what was the point of you being here? At this point, you weren't even batting any eyelashes at anybody—under strict orders from your Captain not to. 

"Come on, Sailor," you purred. "I can help. Let me do my job."

"You use your power on me again, I'm gonna quarantine you," Steve growled. You chuckled at his threat.

"Then what exactly is the reason I'm here, Captain?" you asked, taking another sip of the overtly expensive drink you held. "You want the target incapacitated, I can incapacitate him for you. It'll be easy."

"Incapacitated, not oogling over you."

"You got a problem with my powers, Sailor?"

You heard Steve sigh. "You know that I don't. I got a problem with the men here, especially the man we're trying to catch. He doesn't have a good rep with pretty dames like you, I'm trying to keep you safe."

"You think I'm pretty?" You feigned surprise, bringing your hand to your chest to mimic shock.

"That—" he paused for a moment before letting out an aggravated breath. "That's not the point and you know it. Just keep your distance for now, when we're ready we'll let you know."

You sighed. "Yeah, that's not happening, Cap. Sorry."

"Y/n—"

You turned off your comms, swaying over to your target, a man named Viktor Yakovich. He was a HYDRA lackie known for sex trafficking and importing drugs in and out of the Harbour. You passed him, fingers dragging along the chest of his iron pressed suit, rolling off his shoulder and when you looked back to meet his eyes, you winked.

The wide-eyed, jaw-dropped expression he wore showed you he was enthralled. He watched as you sauntered to an empty seat at the end of the bar. You ordered a drink, a fancy strawberry vanilla tequila cocktail with a misconstructed french name. You watched the bartender make your drink, pouring different liquids into the mixer. He shook the tin almost violently before he poured the drink into a cocktail glass, adding three small strawberry slices into your glass. You thanked him as he handed it to you and took a hefty sip. 

Just as you finished the last of your cocktail, Yakovich stood leaning against the bartop, eyeing you with a level of lust that had chills running down your spine.

"I'll have a double whiskey on the rocks," he said to the bartender, his accent thick, "and another of whatever the lady is having."

"Extra shot of tequila, please," you added. Viktor smirked at you.

"You are quite beautiful," he commented. "What brings you here?"

You made up some story about your father being too sick to attend the luxurious gala himself, so he sent you as his representative. It was a story engraved in your brain, a caring daughter worried about her poor father's health. His liver was failing, you told Yakovich.

Yakovich was quick to give you his sympathies. You thanked him, sipping on your new drink. Gathering your courage, you set your hand on his thigh, rubbing your thumb softly against the fabric of his trousers. You watched his eyes widen, his shoulders raised as his breathing hitched. 

"Why don't we go upstairs?" Your voice lowered several octaves. Yakovich grinned, offering you his arm.

--

Your head pounded as you regained consciousness, groaning. You're vaguely aware of the pain in your body, the heaviness in your legs and how your arms almost felt numb. The dim light above you all too bright as you clenched your eyes shut in protest, grimacing. Your mouth was dry, the corners of your lips ached, and you felt a piece of plastic lodged between your teeth. You tried to bring your hand up, but something was keeping your arms rooted in place. As your mind became clearer, you saw your wrists were tied to the edges of the chair, arms pulled taut at your sides. You were gagged and tied down. Great.

What was the last thing you remembered? Yakovich had taken you to his hotel room above the ballroom. You remembered you had kissed him, he had pushed you against the wall. He moved you to the bed after you felt a sharp prick in your neck and then—and then it went black. The damn bastard had drugged you. But how had he gotten out of your spell? That wasn't supposed to be possible. 

"Well, well, well. . . looks like the little dove is awake." The rich Russian accent sounded oddly humorous, which sent a shudder up your spine. Footsteps echoed against the chipped concrete. Yakovich stepped into view, a wicked grin plastered on his face. You frowned at him, tilting your chin up defiantly. He chuckled at you, roughly grabbing your chin. "I know all about you, little dove. You were HYDRA's most powerful weapon, made the Winter Soldier look like child's play. But. . . you defected. How come?"

You shrugged. Mumbled through your gag some jarbled excuse. Really you were just making noise. Yakovich sighed before backhanding you across the cheek, your head snapping to the side with a sharp crack. You bit down on the plastic wedged between your teeth, a yelp getting stuck in your throat.

"Oh, dove. You make such lovely noises. It is such a shame I won't get to hear more. Kill her now."

A knife was at your throat. You held your head up, glaring at Yakovich. There was a crash, shards of glass shattering on the cement floor. Something flew past your head with a deafening whoosh, Steve's shield striking Yakovich square in the chest, sending him flying. The knife had left your throat, Tony blasting the blade out the man's hand as Sam drop kicked him.

Steve was in front of you, reaching to unbuckle the gag behind your head. He threw it to the ground, his hand cupping your cheek.

"Hey, Sailor," you rasped, your voice hoarse.

His thumb brushed over the red marks at the corner of your mouth. "Are you okay?"

"I had it handled," you smirked. Steve chuckled incredulously, dropping his head. 

"You're unbelievable," he laughed.

He tore the twine that was wrapped tightly around your wrists. He rubbed the dark red marks, trying to get the blood flowing back in your hands. He whispered something that sounded similar to 'oh, baby', looking at the marks surrounding your wrists.

"Let's get you out of here. Okay?" Steve's hand went under your knees, your arm draping the back of his neck. He carried you out of the warehouse, the quinjet parked a few meters away. Steve sat you on the exam table that came up from the floor. "The others will be here soon, okay? They just gotta take care of Yakovich."

You nodded, swallowing. The pain was starting to set in—your head throbbed in sharp pains, your wrists were burning in piercing pulses. You were so dizzy, your world spun around you until you had to hold onto Steve. He looked at you, concern swimming behind his eyes as his hand covered yours over his bicep. 

"I'm fine," you said weakly.

Natasha, Tony, and Sam boarded the quinjet. 

"Hey, kiddo," Tony smiled. "How you doing?"

"Never better," you grinned. "Where's Yakovich?"

"Local police are gonna hold him while we get you back to the Compound," Natasha said, "then Tony and I are going to bring him into S.H.I.E.L.D. . . . What happened?"

You shrugged. "I don't know, I-I thought I had him. We were upstairs, I was—um, you know. . .." you scratched the back of your neck. "And then it just went black."

"I thought people couldn't resist your powers?"

"They're not supposed to be able to." You frowned, rubbing the bridge of your nose. There was so much pressure building up in your head, you just wanted to take some aspirin and sleep for a week. 

"You gonna need medical?" Sam had his arms crossed, a frown on his face. You shook your head.

"I'll be fine."

"Y/n," Steve said sternly. Natasha went to the front of the jet, pressing buttons and flipping a switch. The ramp pulled up and sealed the entrance as the engine roared to life.

You sighed. "I'm fine, Sailor. Seriously. I just need a hot shower and to get out of this dress." 

Steve tried to argue with you. "You might have a concussion."

You reminded Steve about the serum that was coursing through your veins. The same one HYDRA had forced into you, the same one Bucky had coursing through his veins. Except it didn't make you strong like him or Steve. It had done something to your cells, and with a few genetic alterations, HYDRA was able to give you your powers. 

And HYDRA wondered why you left.

--

You let the dress slip off your body, leaving you in a lacy pair of wine red panties and a thigh holster. You discarded the holster, sliding the lace off your legs before stepping into the shower. 

The water was warm, soothing your taut muscles. Your shoulders were so tight they felt like concrete. You sighed, leaning your head back into the water stream.

You left the bathroom clad in a towel, your hair damp. Your head felt better than it had when you arrived at the compound. Your wrists were bruising, the dark red marks encircling your wrists turning a violent purple. You had a bruise forming on your cheek, too, from where Yakovich slapped you.

"Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y?" you called. 

"Yes, Miss L/n?" the A.I responded.

"Can you play some music for me? My 'Calm' playlist, please?"

"Of course, Miss L/n."

A Lana Del Rey song echoed through your room. You thought it was called 'Love song' but honestly, you couldn't be sure. You hummed along, drying your hair with a separate towel.

In the car, in the car, in the backseat, I'm your baby

We go fast, we go so fast, we don't move

"I believe in a place you take me," you sang, eyes closed, scrunching the water out of your locks. "Make you real proud of your baby."

You stood, grabbing a lavender and cedarwood lotion off your dresser. You sat back down on your bed, bringing your leg up.

"Oh, be my once in a lifetime—" You rub lotion up and down your leg, massaging it in. "Lyin' on your chest in my party dress."

You dropped your towel, moving to your drawer chest. You grabbed a pair of white cotton panties that were a size too small and an old Yankees shirt that was too big. It used to be Steve's, but one day he was doing laundry and the shirt shrunk. You snatched it before he could throw it away.

"Dream a dream, here's a scene." You pulled a pair of green fuzzy socks over your feet. "Touch me anywhere 'cause I'm your baby."

You turned around, running into a solid wall of muscle. You yelped, Steve grabbing your arms to steady you. You looked up at him, frowning.

"Hey, Sailor, whatcha doing?" Steve was silent, staring at you intently. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide as they raked up and down your form. "Steve?"

"I've never heard you sing before," he commented, his voice a few octaves lower than you've ever heard it. "Your voice is beautiful."

Your eyes widened, inhaling a sharp breath. You thought you had set F.R.I.D.A.Y up so when you told her to play music it also activated her soundproofing protocol. Tony assured you no one could hear you. 

"O-o-o-o-o-kay." You twisted out of Steve's grasp, holding your hands out in front of you. "I think you should go. Go take a cold shower or something, okay?"

"Oh, but, sweetheart. . . you said I could touch you anywhere."

You slowly stepped around him, Steve stalking you with a dark look. Your knees hit the bed and you crashed down, looking up at him in—in what, fear? Anticipation?

Steve hooked his finger under your chin, tilting your head up. He looked down on you, a crooked grin splitting his lips. You swallowed, looking at his smooth, plump lips. You quickly looked up to meet his gaze, his bright blue eyes swallowed in lust. You called out his name, your voice barely above a whisper. 

And then his lips were on yours. A small whimper died in your throat, his lips soft as they moved against your own. Your eyes fluttered shut, Steve's grip on your chin tightening. His knees came up to rest on either side of you, straddling you. He pushed you down, leaning down to cup your cheeks as he sucked at your bottom lip. His heated length pressed against your center. When his tongue pressed into your mouth, you pushed against his chest again only to have him press your hands against the mattress.

Heat pooled in your core as you felt the effects of his arousal. It was a lot like secondhand smoking, the way it affected you. Steve was hooked, caught in your trap like a fly in a spider's web. 

"Steve. . . Steve, wait." He pulled away, his hot breath hitting your lips, your noses almost touching. "You don't want this—please, snap out it."

"Come on, Siren," Steve smirked. "All that flirting. . . and you didn't see this coming?" His lips met your neck, trailing kisses down the column of your neck. Your lip trembled as he sucked a bruise into your skin, in the juncture between your shoulder and neck. 

"Steve, please. You can fight this."

A hand trailed up past the hem of your shirt. "Oh, I don't wanna fight it, sweetheart. Look at you, all dressed up for me in my shirt, pretty as a picture."

His hand palmed your breast. You pushed against his chest, trying desperately to get him off. He nipped at your collarbone, pinching your nipple until you yelped. He shushed you, pushing the shirt over your head and up your arms. He ripped the fabric apart effortlessly, manhandling you to lay across the bed before he grabbed your wrists. Using the shreds of the old shirt he tied you to the bars of your metal bed frame. You were surprised by the amount of panic that fled through you as you pulled against the makeshift restraints, the cloth digging into the bruises around your wrists.

His lips teased your shoulder while he gently played with your breasts. He added the slightest pressure as he squeezed, your breasts fitting perfectly in his hands as you shuddered out a breath. 

"Oh."

"That feel good, baby?" Steve mumbled into your neck. You helplessly nodded, whimpering as he rubbed his hard length against you in a rhythm that had your traitorous body moving your hips against him. 

You tried to remind yourself that it was the effects of your powers, that both of you were under a spell and this wasn't real. It wasn't intimacy, this wasn't you and Steve so madly in love with each other it drove you insane. It was raw, unadulterated hunger. Nothing more than a spell.

"Steve, please," you whimpered, a particular grind against your core making you gasp. "You know how this is going to end—do you want that?"

"I want you, that's all that matters."

You cried out Steve's name as his lips latched onto your nipple, rolling the other sensitive bud between his fingertips. Steve couldn't mean that—if he wanted this, that meant you couldn't force him out of your spell. He was bewitched until he fucked it out of his system.

Steve's fingertips danced down your torso, hovering over your belly button and stopping at the line of your underwear. He traced the edge of the garments, mouthing at the spot where your neck and shoulder met. His fingers hooked into your waistband and he pulled your panties down your legs, dropping them on the floor. Steve groaned, inhaling your scent.

"Smell so good, baby," he murmured, "bet you taste even better."

Your cheeks flushed. You weren't sure you wanted him to put his mouth on you. It was wrong, Steve wasn't in his right mind. He wasn't thinking straight.

A strangled moan left your lips as Steve plunged two fingers into your slick heat, looking for the spot inside you that could shatter you. That coil inside you was tight, threatening to explode and send you over the edge. You began to babble mindlessly, endless pleas of 'Steve, please' and vulgar curses. You struggled against your restraints, trying desperately to touch him. You wanted to feel him. He pumped his fingers in and out of you slowly, drawing out the stimulation. 

Then his lips were on the little bundle of nerves just above your entrance. You squealed, bucking your hips into his face. You thighs clenched around his head, pushing his face impossibly closer to your center. He removed his fingers from your entrance, leaving you feeling desperate and empty. You whimpered at Steve, gasping when his tongue darted into your entrance. 

He devastated you with his mouth, his tongue teasing your aching clit again and again until the little bundle of nerves was vibrating. As soon as you felt your release forming, he'd move back down to your entrance, teasing it in and out of there just deep enough to have you begging for more.

"Taste so good, baby." He hummed into your flesh, sending vibrations up through your clit, his hips rutting into the mattress. He pushed the pads of his fingers up, still teasing your bundle of nerves and that was all it took. You cried out, the coil snapping like a taut rubber band, your hips involuntarily jerking as you cried out and struggled against your bonds.

Your entire body was buzzing, your limbs boneless as you panted below him. Steve climbed atop you, fervently pressing his lips to yours. You could taste yourself on him. Licking your lips as he mouthed at your jaw, you closed your eyes. Your brow was sweaty as you tried to catch your breath. Powers or not, you hadn't cum like that in a long time.

When you opened your eyes, his knees were wedged between your thighs, the tip of his cockhead at your entrance. Steve hummed, brushing himself against your wet folds. You dug your teeth into your lower lip, trying desperately not to whimper. Steve leaned down to kiss your cheek before he pushed into you slowly, his thick cock stretching your walls.

Your breath left your lungs, a cry breaking in your throat as Steve groaned into your ear, your silky heat clenching him like a vice. You pulled against your restraints, wincing as pain burned your wrists. He shushed you, nibbling at your shoulder as a means of distraction. When he bottomed out, a growl reverberated through his chest.

"Fuck." Steve's hot breath hit your ear. "You feel so good, Y/n. So tight."

You preened as Steve picked up his pace, easily falling into a hard and fast rhythm. You screamed into his chest, Steve pushing your legs up and effectively folding you in half, the new angle allowing him to hit deeper. You were losing circulation to your hands by how hard you were pulling against the strands of fabric but you didn't care. All you felt was Steve and the way the tip of his cock hit the tip of your cervix.

Your orgasm came out of nowhere—rose so quickly and crashed over you like a tidal wave, sending you reeling. You screamed, seizing up and convulsing around Steve's cock. Steve cursed, feeling you pulsate around him. Black dots invaded your vision as Steve slammed into you harder, faster, and then pulled out suddenly, hot spurts of cum shooting onto your lower stomach. With an animalistic groan, Steve fell to the side.

It took several minutes for either of you to gather your bearings. You were still tied to the bed, breathless and coated in cum when Steve rose, the color in his eyes returning. 

"Y/n, I—" Steve faltered. The guilty look in his puppy-dog eyes making your chest flutter.

"Can you just untie me?" you said quietly. "Please?"

"Oh—yeah. Um. . . yeah." He undid the knot, letting you bring your hands down and sit up. He felt his heart skip a beat at the fresh marks around your wrists. He jumped off the bed and for a moment you were worried he was going to run away, but he gently handed you his shirt before pulling his pants over his hips. "Hold on, okay? I'm gonna get you a rag." You watched him disappear into the bathroom. You pulled his shirt over your head, massaging your wrists gently. 

Steve came back into the room with a damp rag. He handed it to you, hesitant to sit down as you wiped yourself off. "Y/n, I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault." You tossed the rag on the floor, looking down at your wrinkled sheets. "Just—I should have been more careful about singing."

"No—no, don't blame yourself, sweetheart." 

"Listen, I'll go to Tony in the morning, tell him what happened." You sighed. "Maybe he can fix F.R.I.D.A.Y's protocol. I'll ask to be removed from missions, too, if that's what you want—"

"No, no. Y/n, I don't want that." Steve groaned. "I'll talk to Tony. I'm the one that invaded your space. I caused this, I'll fix this."

You bit your lip, ringing Steve's shirt in your hands.

"What is it?"

You sighed. "Nothing, it's just. . . I just Siren Song-ed you into sex and—and you're my friend, I don't want this to ruin things."

"It won't ruin things," Steve promised. "I was actually hoping we could. . . maybe go get some—you know, actually, never mind. It was a bad idea."

"Steve," you smirked. "What is it?"

Steve sighed. "Would you want to go get coffee with me? Maybe tomorrow?"

A smile spread across your face. "You wanna get coffee with me?"

"Yeah. I was gonna ask you after the mission, but things went a little. . . sideways."

You breathed out a chuckle. "I'd love to get coffee with you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really."

Steve let out a sigh of relief. "Good, good. I'll pick you up after the briefing tomorrow? We can go to the coffee shop in town with all the books?"

You smiled. "That sounds great."

"Good." Steve flashed you a toothy grin. "I'm—uh—I'm gonna let you get some sleep, okay? You've had a long day."

You scoffed, slipping your legs under your covers. "Yeah. Goodnight, Sailor."

Steve stood in the threshold, shirtless and sweaty, his hair messy as he peaked past the door. "Goodnight, Siren."

[wkemeup]

Take My Hand (Take My Whole Life, Too)

summary: Bucky waits at the end of the aisle for the love of his life (heavily inspired by that scene in Crazy Rich Asians) pairing: bucky x reader warnings: a ridiculous amount of fluff  a/n: This was written for @mermaidxatxheart​​‘s 500 follower challenge! I had the song prompt of Falling in Love with You by Elvis Presley, though I was really drawing off the cover by Kina Grannis in the link in the summary. Congrats on 500(+) Jamie!! 🌸

Bucky’s hands were stuffed into his pockets, pulling at the seams of expensive threads as if the unraveling string could release a piece of tension in his chest, let him breathe a little easier, let his head feel a little less numb. Leather wingtips of his shoes were tight around his toes, the tie draped around his neck a little too snug, sweat beading at his temples. His breaths were heavy in his chest, thick like anvils on his lungs as he swayed from one foot to the other.

It smelled faintly of lavender and incense as he managed to take in a shallow breath; memories of Sunday mornings with his Ma and sister traveling into the city adorned in baggy suits and frilly dresses, a pout on his face through his teenage years. Stained glass windows to his left, marble statues to his right; colorful light filtered through the room and touched against the faces of stone, sun kissed, heaven sent.

His hands gripped to fists in his pockets and Bucky gazed out to the rows of old, wooden pews. It was filling up quickly with women dressed in beautiful gowns and men in black ties, talking quietly amongst themselves, stealing looks to the back of the room and then up to Bucky. Nervous excitement, joyful smiles he wasn’t used to be on the receiving end of.

“You alright there, man?” Steve asked to his left, nudging his shoulder teasingly. Bucky nodded quickly, maybe a little too quickly, because Steve started to chuckle under his breath. “There’s still time to run for it if you want? I can get the car started.”

“Not a chance,” Bucky replied without hesitation, his voice rough and raw like stone, unused all morning. He nodded to himself, pulling in a deep breath as he stared down at the double doors at the end of the aisle. “I’m marrying the love of my life today.”

“Yes, you are,” Steve nodded, smiling to himself as Bucky kept his gaze focused on the wooden doors. He patted Bucky gently on the shoulder. “Take in all in, buddy. You deserve it. After everything you’ve been through, to come out of all of it and find this? Love and happiness and all those things you never thought you’d see again? Who would’ve thought, huh?”

Certainly not Bucky.

But Steve nudged Bucky’s side because he believed from the very start, from the moment he’d introduced the two of you the day you moved into the tower nearly a year prior and he saw the slight part of Buckt’s lips, the rendered shock on his face as he stood frozen, staring at you as you extended your hand to him. Something had changed in him that day, like a spark igniting a flame, a drop to a desert, the cry in a first breath. 

Your hand slipped into his, a shy smile on your face as you met his eye, and Bucky didn’t know what to say. His voice was sandpaper in his throat and Steve was the one who told you his name, though Bucky was almost certain you already knew. Your eyes only flashed to the reflective panels of his left arm once upon walking up to him and even then, it had been in admiration, never fear, never disgust.

Your name was honey on his tongue and he repeated it a few times after you left, as he held his hand close to his chest where you’d touched him, like velvet and silk, and he wondered how something so tender and kind could stand to touch the flesh of a monster.

You turned over your shoulder as Steve guided you around the floor, introducing you to the team, and your eyes kept returning to Bucky from the distance, even as you met Sam and Wanda, then Tony and Natasha.

He’d met your eye from across the room and for the first time in years, he felt the corner of his lips push to his cheeks; aching in their disuse, a little worn for wear, but it made you smile even wider, crinkling up by your eyes, chewing on the edge of your lip. It warmed like the heat of a gentle fire to his chest, a relief sweeping through the tension he carried. It was your smile that started to pull him from the darkest parts of himself.

He wasn’t quite sure how it happened, how you managed to start peeling away at the wall he kept built carefully around himself, fortified under brick and stone and standing so tall he no longer could see sunlight around him.

Brick by brick, they started to disappear with the smell of coffee filtering through the kitchen as the sun rose and he’d stumble out of his room after a night of restless sleep to find you waiting at the table with two cups of freshly brewed coffee, tapping your fingers against the wood anxiously, a bounce of your knee underneath. So sweetly nervous until the moment you saw him and everything in your body seemed to relax.

He lost a brick from the walls around him as he sat down beside you each morning, first under comfortable silence, until enough mornings passed and soon, the kitchen was filled with laughter before the sky had filtered to an even blue. 

The bricks disappeared every time you laughed, every time you smiled at him from across the room when you thought he wasn’t paying attention, every time a flush would touch your skin as he’d catch you staring and you’d look away bashfully, only to return home to ocean blue and he’d smile back for you.

They disappeared as your hip pressed up close to his on the couch and you fell asleep against his shoulder on movie nights, a bowl of popcorn slipping from your fingers. They crumbled with every soft snore, every time you curled against him, finding comfort in the cool embrace of his left arm as he brushed the hairs from your eyes.

Brick by brick, you managed to dig through the cement under brittle nails and calloused hands, tearing away another piece of the protective guard he’d mounted in his decades under Hydra until suddenly, steady streams of light started to peak their way into the darkness, until the touch of it warmed his skin, stung a little in his eyes, until the shadows no longer had a home around him.

The first time you’d kissed him had been an accident.

Something so innocent, so familiar as you pulled back from the warm hold of his embrace under fuzzy blankets and movie marathons, and touched the sides of his face. Lost in the way he was watching you, caught up in the dim lighting of the kitchen, the haze of sleepiness, you’d kissed him. 

Short and gone in an instant once you realized what you’d done and you raced off to your room with frantic apologies under your breath. He tried to go after you, tell you how badly he wanted you to kiss him again like that, but there wasn’t time. He had a mission in the morning and you’d boarded yourself up behind the walls of your room.

By the time he returned a week later, the line bordering between friendship and something more was all but shattered as he stumbled off the quinjet with a limp on his right side, a nasty scar over his forehead and an exhaustion dragging him under after four days of no contact, no reassurance, and complete radio silence. 

You had raced into his arms in tears and threw yourself to his embrace, holding onto him like he was your only lifeline. He had stumbled back a bit at the impact of it, surprised, and you didn’t give him a chance to question it before your lips were on his.  

The start of it all, the tailspin into the unknown.

It all happened so quickly after that. The nervous dates with pretty red dresses and disheveled ties, the hands intertwining as you walked together for hours through Brooklyn under starlit skies, the kisses outside your bedroom, the cozy embrace on the couches.

The ‘I love you’s. The falling between sheets, bare and desperate for one another. The question that scared him more than any mission ever could. The ‘yes’ that changed his life forever.  

He fell in love with you faster than he knew how to catch himself.

It was a freefall through the heart of an open abyss. It was stepping off the ledge knowing there was nothing securing you to the surface. It was a leap of faith, an instinct of trust, a determination of love. When he fell for you, there was no fear, no panic. There was only absolute certainty.

He loved you. You loved him.

There was nothing else. No amount of time that could make his love for you more real, more acceptable to what others deemed appropriate for this level of commitment. He spent too much of his life not being able to make decisions for himself, too much of his life without the autonomy to say ‘no’ or ‘yes’, his freewill stripped from him like a piece of his soul.

So, this was his choice, every day. Every morning, every night, every hour. He chose you.

“Anyone check on Y/n yet?” Sam quipped up from beside Steve, tugging at the neck of his tie.  “We sure she didn’t make a run for it?”

“Sam,” Steve warned, but Bucky started to laugh, feeling the tension slip away.

“I’m just saying,” Sam shrugged with that teasing grin of his, “I’m pretty sure we were all shocked she agreed to a lifetime with this nutjob. I wouldn’t blame the girl for jumping ship.”

“She’s coming,” Bucky replied evenly, a soft smile on his face as he kept his eyes on the back doors. “She’ll be here.”

There was no doubt, not a single trace of it running through his bloodstream. The tension faded from his shoulders and he realized with a quick look in Sam’s direction, that he’d done it on purpose, reminded Bucky exactly why he was standing where he was to begin with, reminded him of the unbreakable trust he had in you.

A moment of peace, of ease, and then—

The soft strumming of a guitar began to filter through the church, high up into the arches as a hush fell over the crowd. Bucky’s stomach fell, like at the highest peak of a free fall, and he straightened his back, tried to fix his already perfectly straightened tie, hands shaking just a little. The guests all turned to the doors as wooden archways slowly parted and Bucky exhaled a shaky breath.

“You’ve got this,” Steve whispered beside him. “Best day of your life, right?”

Bucky nodded, turning to find Steve smiling at him, Sam giving him a short thumbs up with that cheeky grin of his. His brothers, his family. He exhaled again, this time more even, like a weight of release on his chest, and turned to the parted doors.

A gentle voice carried over the hushed whispers of the crowd, light and breathy, heavenly, as Peter took his first step into the church.

Wise men say only fools rush in But I can't help falling in love with you

Awkward smile as he tried to make eye contact with every phone in the crowd, a slight flush of pink in his cheeks as he walked a little too quickly down the aisle. He wore a tie that matched the color of the flowers pinned to Bucky’s suit jacket and he paused for a moment by Tony and Pepper’s aisle as she begged him for a picture.

Shall I stay? Would it be a sin? If I can't help falling in love with you

Wanda stepped out into the open doors. Long, flowing brunette hair over her shoulders, braided in a crown from her face, she carried light pink roses and white dahlias in her hands. Dressed in a beautiful shade that reminded Bucky of cherry blossoms, she gave a soft glance to the crowd before she took her place beside Peter leading up to the alter.

Like a river flows surely to the sea Darling, so it goes some things are meant to be

Then, Natasha. Lethal and cunning, dressed in soft pinks and a subtle smile on plump lips, an enigma within herself. She looked up to the woman sitting on the edge of a stool at the corner of the room, the one singing the beautiful song that had Bucky’s heart stammering so fast in his chest, he wasn’t quite sure how he was still on his feet.

She began to make her way down the aisle, a subtle glance to Steve from the corner of her eye before she found her place beside Wanda, leaving him to cough back a blush rising on his cheeks.

Then, a silence came over the crowd, the music lingering up into the highest peaks of the church as Bucky held his breath. A soft echo of the guitar nestling into his chest and falling into a pristine silence, Bucky watched as the crowd stood from their pews, turning to the back door, his heart pounding like thunder, loud enough that even the furthest row could hear it.

You stepped out into the opening and everything just... stopped. Time dissolving around him, the gasps of the crowd numb to his ears, and you paused under elaborate archways, framing you like a portrait to be admired amongst masterpieces. Dressed in a gown that touched your skin, floated along your curves, your body, the way his hands had; with a carefulness, a tenderness, unlike he’d ever seen.

Then, you smiled at him; something soft, subtle, filled with every rush of emotion swimming in his own chest. Stunning. Magical. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life.

A calmness swept over him, the nervous stuttering of his heart falling back into a gentle rhythm, his breaths even and full in his lungs. This was where he was meant to be.

You took your first step into the aisle.

So take my hand

Tears welled in Bucky’s eyes, blurry as he tried to take in as much of this moment as he could. You chewed on the edge of rouge stained lips, disregarding the room full of people, of family and friends, as you kept your focus on Bucky in every step. He was the one you always ran to, his arms you sought out in a crowded room, his watchful smile to calm your nerves, and he was waiting for you. He was always there waiting for you.

Take my whole life, too

In every step, he saw the days he spent curled up on the couch beside you, the nights pressed against you under sweat damped sheets from the demons in his sleep. He saw the dates at the sub shop in Queens and the coffee joint in Brooklyn. He saw the trust he put in you, the instant devotion, the internal instinct to give every piece of himself to you. He saw the free fall.

He saw the bricks you dismantled from the walls around his heart, the way you so carefully nurtured the most vulnerable pieces of him to something stronger, something protected and adored until he believed it himself.

For I can't help falling in love with you

You were within reach now and he extended a hand to you. Your fingers slipped into his palm, warm and soft and everything that every grounded him to this earth by a tether, and he guided you up the stairs to the alter beside him.

He let out a heavy breath, smiling through the tears in his eyes as he chuckled quietly, still unable to process how quickly you’d fallen into his life, how easily you turned him upside down and brought forth the pieces of himself he’d lost over the years.

Your hand touched the side of his face, gently wiping away his tears with a smile that must have ached from how constant it was, how all-encompassing and infectious, full of unbridled joy and love. This was where he was supposed to be, where everything in his life led to – this moment – where you mouthed ‘I love you’ because you couldn’t stand to hold it back another second.

He kissed the palm of your hand, an intimate gesture shared between you witnessed by friends and family in the crowd, and he whispered, “I love you, too.”

His home. His sweet girl who reminded him who he was under years of fortified walls caging him from sunlight. His whole heart.

A new start. A new life.

For I can't help falling in love with you

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

[anika-ann]

Challenge Accepted...?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader                Word count: 4468

Summary: Steve’s never been good at quick decision-making when it came to his own safety. After one particularly horrible experience, you find a way to remind him every day to think twice the next time he’s faced with a tough choice. He is not amused. 

A/N: For @mermaidxatxheart​ 500 writing challenge; congratulations! I’m happy to be part of what could be 750 in building ;)

Prompt: “I thought you were dead.” “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?” (bold in text)

Warnings: angst, fluff, attempt at humour and action; swearing, vomiting, sort-of a panic attack, mentions of death (which you probably figured from the prompt, but hey, I didn’t have to take that literally… I did)

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“Good morning, sweetheart.”

You had been awake for about half an hour, sneaking from your bed – and how painful it had been, leaving the other occupant there – in search for caffeine; and more importantly to pick up the package that arrived for you that day. A package you had been waiting for to arrive for three days now despite requesting your order to be express.

You had been gracing your boyfriend with silent treatment the whole time and it was getting old, so you couldn’t wait for it to end your misery. Naturally, it wasn’t as simple as that, a package magically resolving your problems, it was nothing but an object, but you had been left with three days to deal with your feelings and dark thoughts until it was delivered and you appreciated it.

Symbols were important; and the package was a symbol for you, a symbol of acceptance.  

Raising your gaze from the floor at the voice, you couldn’t but smile over your cup of coffee at how reluctant Steve sounded, the great Captain America himself afraid and hesitantly wavering at the door to the communal kitchen of the Avengers’ compound.

You loved him to bits, which was why you hadn’t enjoyed torturing him (and yourself) by keeping him at arm’s length, but fuck it, he deserved every single second of it and more.

Jerk.

“Morning, honey,” you replied warmly, barely holding your laughter at bay when an utterly baffled expression settled on his face at your sudden inviting tone. It was a complete U-turn from how you had been treating him the past days. “Slept well?”

It was a tricky question and you knew that he knew. Your time in bed – reduced to very chaste displays of affection, not lovers’ ones at all – was the only time he had been allowed to touch you, because the very first time you had spent night together after the event, your body had followed its instincts and gravitated towards Steve no matter how pissed you had been. So, cuddling in your sleep was the most contact you had.

“…yes. Always do with you,” he whispered, his steps towards the kitchen slow but firm, apparently encouraged by your inviting tone.

“I’m glad. Any residual pain?”

He gulped, but his face brightened a bit at your care; you, of course, had cared the whole time, but you wouldn’t let him know too explicitly, your conversations rather clipped. When he had confronted you about it, about the way you kept treating him – with flames in your eyes –, your glare discouraged him from pressing further, his mouth opening only to fall shut again as you had stridden away.

“No. No pain at all anymore.”

You nodded thoughtfully, finishing your cup. “Good. That’s good. Coffee?”

Not needing his answer, because it was always bound to be the same, you poured him a cup.

The moment you returned the pot to its place, Steve’s large hand covered yours, the radiating heat of his body warming your back even with the slight distance between you remaining.

Turning your head to side, glancing up to his face, you saw his eyes searching in your expression, looking for an answer; did you decide to grant him a pardon?

You charmed a tight smile for him, ignoring the tug at your stomach when you remembered you had every reason not to forgive him and tell him you were done with his bullshit – and with him.

With your face still under scrutiny, his other hand landed on your shoulder, squeezing with a tinniest strength. When your gaze involuntarily flickered to his lips in response to his proximity, he knew; manoeuvring your body as if it was nothing but a puppet, he pulled you into his embrace, his cheek resting on the top of your head, his chest expanding with deep inhale.

Your shoulders fell and you felt yourself melt into his frame, your rapidly beating heart in sync with his. His own raced because he was afraid you’d push him away, just like you had been doing it for the past few days; yours did, because it recalled with paralysing precision every single painful second in which you believed you would never feel his arms around you again.

He swayed your bodies a bit from side to side, cradling you in his arms, nuzzling your hair, tightening his hold on you.

Tears stung in your eyes at the display of his guttural need to keep you close. God knew you felt the same way, craving the reassurance of his embrace.

“I love you,” he whispered to your hair and you squeezed your eyes shut so the tears wouldn’t escape. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“You’re an idiot. The biggest idiot I know, but I guess I never liked them particularly bright,” you muttered into his sleepshirt and his chest shook with hushed laughter as he took no offence. You even received a kiss to the top of your head, firm and lingering, filling every cell of your body with content and feeling of security.

Standing in the kitchen, the walls, which you had built up to be able to punish him for his crimes and to let him realize what he could lose, crumbled to dust.

It had taken a lot of strength to get to this point, leaving you drained both mentally and physically, but the package arrived today to seal the deal, as if confirming the victory of tolerance over emotions. You felt much better now, mostly because you couldn’t wait for Steve to see what you ordered for him – and for you.

“Oh. Good, you two made up. We can stop walking on eggshells around you now,” Sam’s voice interrupted your blissful bubble and you nearly jumped out of your skin at his voice. You never heard him coming.

And then he burst out laughing and you just knew he noticed the change in the kitchen decorations. It caused your lips to curl up in a smirk before you kissed Steve’s clavicle over the fabric of his shirt and withdrew.

“What’s so funny?” Steve mumbled, slightly dazed, apparently still overwhelmed with the sudden drop of cold-shoulder attitude of yours.

Sam simply grinned, pointing at the sign sitting on the top of one the fridges as he opened it in search for breakfast.

“What the-“ Steve questioned incredulously, his eyes wide as he spun to you when you snorted at his reaction. “Was this you?!”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re not being serious,” he stated, his glare flickering between you and the small black table with caption and large number written with a chalk.

You frowned at him, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “But I am. Very.”

Steve eyed the small blackboard-styled sign in a wooden frame with an obvious distaste and a pout to his lips, but he remained silent; either he couldn’t find the words or didn’t dare to speak them.

Served him right.

Stupid risk-taking dumbass.

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“Surveillance room secure. No sign of activity,” Natasha’s voice informed you through the comm in your ear.

You peeked from behind the door opened for a crack, scanning the level of the stairwell before moving from your hideout, arms stretched with your gun raised, ready to shoot. Soundlessly approaching the middle where the handrails of opposite stairwells nearly met, only leaving a slit in between to glance through, you did a quick once-over above and below you, ears pricked up to catch the tinniest of sounds that would alert you on having any hostiles present.

Still ready to fire any second if needed, you raised your hand covered in fingerless glove to your left ear. The ampullas of tranquillizers covered in black metal reflected subtly in the flickering light of the fluorescent lamp. It was no coincidence your codename was Robin; you could easily put your enemies to sleep, bringing them the night much like the bird, Tony’s invention making your job easier.

“Looks like east stairwell is clear,” you announced lowly to the rest of the team.

Similar message arrived from Sam on the roof and surprisingly, it sent a chill down your spine rather than a relief to the tension in your battle-ready body.

This was not okay. A S.H.I.E.L.D. undercover operative had reported activity only few hours ago; admittedly, it had taken you some time to get here, the distance New York – middle-of-nowhere Latvia posing a tiny problem to your time management, but the team consisting of you, Sam, Steve, Nat, Tony and Clint had been on the way with minimal delay after receiving the report.

You didn’t like this base empty. It tickled your spy-sense and not in a good way.

“West stairwell clear, heading to lower levels.”

“Starting the extraction of files. Last log-in was 6 hours ego. It’s hard to tell how much of their actual intel has been left for us,” Steve announced from the server room and if your gut wasn’t screaming at you that this was messed up, you would have smirked proudly at Steve’s skills with technology and rubbed it in face of anyone who had ever called him a grandpa.

“Feels sloppy to leave anything behind at all. The only heat signatures I’m reading are yours. Am I the only one who find this sketchy as fuck?” Tony’s voice rang from your ear and you muttered a silent ‘not at all’ under your breath.

“Heading to upper levels, since Clint is on his way down.”

“Roger that, future Mrs. Rogers,” Sam hummed over the comms and you rolled your eyes.

Poor Steve. You had been together for only few months; you were most definitely not engaged, but the rest of the Avengers kept giving Steve shit about your relationship, because a) he apparently spent months working up the courage to actually ask you out and b) you were the first girl whom he in fact was interested in to begin with after refusing like thirty different candidates from Nat (and occasionally Sam); to be fair, you couldn’t but feel incredibly flattered, learning these things, but Christ, your team was full of little shits.

Must have got it from their captain then.

“Har, har. You’re hilarious, Wilson,” you hissed quietly and mentally slapped yourself to return your full attention to the mission. Hundred percent concentration was the key to survival.

“Cut it, Sam. Focus. Twenty percent downloaded.”

“And we’re hundred percent in deep shit,” Clint announced, his words coming out strangled.

Your heart pounding due to adrenalin stopped as you awaited an explanation in dreadful silence. What?

“Get your asses out of the building! RIGHT NOW!” the archer yelled over the comms, paradoxically freezing you on spot for a moment, leaving you with thousands of question marks in your head.

“Explosives. Shit ton of them and the timer shows two minutes and change, counting down as I speak,” he added and that got you moving.

“My route’s shorter to the roof. Sam?” you demanded, index finger pressed to you ear, already heading up, hoping he would respond in affirmative.

“I got ya’, Robin.”

Speeding up despite every single muscle in your legs burning, you focused on your breathing, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Suddenly, you were very grateful for all the cardio you had been forced to do. For every single morning run-

“Steve?” your hand shot up to your comms once more.

“I’m nearly at the exit,” Clint announced instead.

“Me too,” came Nat’s voice.

You growled in frustration; Steve’s voice probably couldn’t come through as the legendary spy duo spoke practically at the same time.

As far as you knew, the servers were at the basement and the fact Steve didn’t report made your spine tingle in horrible premonition.

“Cap? Need a lift from anywhere?” Tony’s voice broke through this time and you faltered in your step. “One minute, thirty seconds.”

You finally saw the last two sets of stairs. You were sure you must have left your lungs about five floors below, but that was not why you felt your chest constricting.

“Nearly at ninety percent,” Steve hissed and this time your feet tangled enough to send you flying headfirst, only years of practice in falling saving your skull from cracking as you curled up, landing on your side.

The edges of the stairs dug into your arm and ribs, but you couldn’t care less for that, air knocked out of you altogether at the exclaim.

What the FUCK-

“Rogers, get your ass out of there!” Natasha yelled at him, out of breath herself and honestly you loved her at that moment.

You couldn’t make yourself to get up from the floor, paralyzed, panic squeezing your heart. He was not going to make it!

“Ninety-three-“

“And only a minute left, you idiot!” Tony spitted out. “Get out!”

“Robin, still on your way?”

“Ninety-six.”

“For fuck’s sake, Rogers!” Clint panted to the comms.

You only managed to blindly stare ahead, forcing your brain to imagine the blueprints of the building, calculating the route Steve might use to get out, your mind sinking into dark waters of horror as you realized there was no fucking way he would-

A crash sounded from above on your left, your head snapping that way on instinct just in time to see Sam burst in and the door hit the wall.

“Robin! Can you get up? We really need to-“

Strong hands pulled you to your feet as Steve’s voice, impatient, rang in your ears.

“Done. Heading out.”

Unfreezing, you pushed yourself and ran alongside Sam, but a bitchy sneer in your head informed you that Steve didn’t have enough time to escape the explosion at that point.

You shushed the prophet-of-doom voice with all you had and sped up.

“Don’t get seasick on me,” Sam warned you, buckling you to him via the straps on your suit and the snap-links on his, his palms sliding to your armpits. “3, 2-“

The sudden jerk and void opening beneath your feet made you dizzy and you stupidly closed your eyes in hope to make it better.

It didn’t work, your stomach somersaulting.

And then… then you were flying, speeding away from the building, two figures running tens of feet under you; Clint and Nat.

Your pair approached the ground quickly, not landing exactly gracefully, but your first instinct was to snap your head back to the enemy base, eyes hypnotizing the exit.

You found it just in time to see it swallowed up in flames, the ground shaking beneath your feet with the force of the explosion. Glass blew to shards, smoke poured through the suddenly free space of the windows.

Despite the deafening noise shaking you to your core, the world seemed to fall silent, just like your heart.

A second later, your instincts kicked in and you sprung towards the building.

“Hey!” someone shouted from a seemingly endless distance, just a dull scream in your ears; out of nowhere, you were falling, tackled to the ground. “Not happening. You’re staying right here.”

Jerking your body to get rid of the weight on you, you achieved nothing, tears of despair welling up in your eyes as you repeated the motion in vain. The void that had opened under you when Sam had carried you away seemed like nothing in comparison to the sudden rip that cracked opened in your ribcage at the image of- of Steve-- he-

You sobbed and trashed around once more, a Kevlar-clad silhouette shielding you from the view of terror. Your eyes travelled up, your gaze swimming in tears, meeting worried yet piercing green eyes of your fellow spy.

“Steve? Report! Rogers?”

Your body turned limp at the sound of his name, your eyelids sliding shut, ice crystalizing in your veins. Your whole world swayed, vertigo overtaking all of your senses so intensely you tasted gastric juices.

No one responded.

The moment the weight shifted from you, you doubled over and spitted the contents of your stomach, nearly choking on the vomit, a pit growing in your stomach.

A hand landed on your shoulder, possibly with an attempt to soothe you; with zero effect as you couldn’t breathe in properly.

“I’m scanning the building, but the heat everywhere is making it a bit difficult,” Tony informed you mechanically, no emotion in his statement.  

You had barely realized in your haze that you hadn’t seen his figure either, but you assumed the suit would protect him, more so since he had been mostly flying around the building rather than bursting in.

A violent tremble took a hold of your body, blackness edging your vision even with your eyes closed. Ashes danced behind your eyelids, fire and dust, white roses, black wood covered in fabric, red and white stripes, stars scattered over the blue, hiding the ugly truth of a fallen soldier.

A fallen soldier.

An irreplaceable leader.

A loyal friend.

Your partner.

Your lover.

Your love.

All gone.

Your hand was pressed against something solid, moving periodically and your breath instinctively attempted to match the tempo. It was really fucking hard, because your ribcage ached, your mouth felt disgusting, your heart pounded in both your chest and temples and pictures of Steve’s smile haunted you.

‘There must be some hope left for him, come on-‘

‘It blew up, you nitwit-‘

“Any-- -py? L-- help? West-- under-“ fractions of words reached your ear and you laughed hysterically, your palms instantly covering your mouth in disbelief, tears rolling down your face.

“Son of a bitch,” Clint commented behind you and you chuckled, the sound hurting you and yet relieving your tension that had been crushing you for god knew how long.

You found yourself gasping for air again, this time because you couldn’t stop laughing– and crying-- and cursing in every language you had ever tried to learn.

“Yes, we copy,” Tony announced wryly, but clearly flied to lend a helping hand to the dumbass of a captain.

Scrambling to your feet with difficulty as your legs felt strangely wobbly, Sam’s arms appeared on your sides to support your stance. You head spun with adrenalin and residual terror, endless relief slowly creeping in; you needed to see him. You needed to see him and hear his voice clearly, touching him, tasting him, soothing all of your senses with the reality of him not being blown to hell.

And then, you might kill him yourself.

But god, first you needed him to prove any way imaginable that he was still breathing.

Rationally, you knew it couldn’t take that long, but the moments of no report from Tony was tugging at your stomach, impatience filling every cell in your body as the time stretched to eternity. When Sam hesitantly let go of you, you started making your way, one shaky step after another, towards the still burning building; in hope to shorten the torturous period of not being quite sure Steve would be alright.

Eventually, the heat and smoke became too much, the danger too imminent for you to come any closer; you, unlike some other people on your team, one in particular, had some self-preservation left.

“Well and I thought you were born in the first half of the past century, not in the stone age… Gee, Rogers, that’s a lot of rubble…” Tony complained over the channel and you instinctively winced.

Perhaps Steve wasn’t burn to a crisp, but… trapped under the stones and concrete? That did not sound any better.

Minutes were ticking by and as the adrenalin gradually left your body, you started shivering despite the heat which the flames provided.

The sudden flash of red and gold was your salvation. Like an angel of mercy, Tony flew up with a man supported only by his iron palms, carried much like you had been from the roof, and descended to your level, Steve’s feet touching the ground with barely visible stumble. The dried paths of salt on your cheeks were watered again, fresh tears rolling down in endless waterfalls, your mouth once more covered with the back of your hand; your teeth sunk into the leather of your gloves on instinct.

Steve simply stood there, ribcage expanding widely, favouring his left leg, his arm curled around his ribs as if he had been in a fight with a hostile agent who landed a few lucky hits and not with a building that had fallen on him, apparently.

Your feet acted on their own account as they brought you to him, your body crashing into his chest with ferocity, arms thrown around his middle, face buried in his shoulder. He grunted at the brutal impact of your weight, but his hand reluctantly let go of the shield and had it hit the ground, his arms sneaking around your body instead.

‘Don’t squeeze too tight,’ you scolded yourself. ‘He might be bleeding internally. Don’t squeeze him too tight, he’s hurt, because-‘

‘-because he’s a fucking idiot!’

Just as he buried his face in your hair, you jerked away, staring him down with a murderous glare.

‘He’s injured,’ you reminded yourself, but that didn’t stop you.

Balling your hand in a weak fist, you punched his chest with vigour, flaring rage replacing the dread in your veins, searingly hot and destructive.

“I thought you were dead, you—you stupid piece of-- jerk!” you spitted out venomously, your impression of a harpy ruined by your voice breaking as you choked on a sob.

His blue eyes shone bright yet tired through the smudges of dirt on his face, dust and trickle of blood on the side of his neck, seeping into the high collar of his uniform. He was a picture of misery and exhaustion, but you were torn between pity, relief and anger as he reached out for you, offering you something small in his palm.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” he rasped, voice rough from the smoke he doubtlessly inhaled. “But I got the drive-“

Snatching the stupid device from his hand, you threw it away – peripherally checking where it landed – and stretched your arm to hit him again.

Weary hand caught your blow before it could collide with its target and with a strength that surprised you he could still possess after nearly getting buried alive, he pulled you into his embrace again, wrapping you in his arms and breathing you in as if he needed to assure himself you were still in the land of living. Or perhaps he felt the urge to confirm that he was still breathing?

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he creaked lowly, his fingers flexing on the flash of your sides. “I’m okay…”

You shook your head wildly, but didn’t try to escape the cage of his arms, melting into his frame instead.

The truth was though, you fundamentally disagreed with him.

He was not okay. And you most definitely weren’t either.

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You, in contrary, adored the board. Not because it reminded you of the faults your beloved boyfriend had, but because you were hopeful that the whole team giving him shit about it would cause him to be less impulsive and more considerate of the consequences of his actions.

The sign read: ‘______ without Steve doing stupid life-threatening shit’

You had proudly written down number 3 and the word days. You prayed the number would climb (and that you might possibly write down ‘months’ instead of just days), even after Steve healed completely and returned to active duty; which was apparently about to happen very soon.

“Sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh? Nope. It’s staying right here and you better be getting to higher numbers than that.”

“But-“

“When did you ever back away from a challenge, Cap?” Sam entered your discussion subtly and you sent him a grateful wink, while Steve shot him a glare that would have had him lying in a pool of blood if a glare could kill.

“That is awfully accurate,” you noted with a tired sigh, torn between enjoying Steve’s discomfort and fighting with the anxiety caused by the fact that what Sam said was uncomfortably on point. “I can’t believe it took me so long to see the extends of your lacking self-preservation. I didn’t believe them when I first joined, you know? When they told me you were reckless…? God, I should have known better…”

“He did crash a plane before-“ “I’m not that bad-“ Sam and Steve spoke at the same time and you rolled your eyes at the former, locking your gaze with the latter.

“1 minute and 19 seconds,” you protested, not offering any context.

Both Sam and Steve seemed flabbergasted at your statement.

“Huh?”

“I asked Tony about the time,” you elaborated, voice dangerously low. “For 1 minute and 19 seconds after the explosion, there was nothing but silence from you. I thought you were dead,” you repeated your words from that day to remind him.

A flare of fury ignited in your chest again and Steve must have recognized the expression on your face, because he instantly took a step back, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.

You huffed, running your hand down your face, forcing your breathing to return to normal as your glances met and you exchanged a wordless conversation.

His ‘I’m sorry,’ followed by a perfect set of kicked-puppy eyes he excelled at performing.

Your raised eyebrow in return and ‘I’m sure you are. And?’

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?” Steve resigned and it brought a victorious smirk back to your face. The victory tasted bittersweet, the fact you were still discussing his near-death experience kinda taking the satisfaction of overpowering him away.

“No.”

“And you’re gonna remind me at every occasion, aren’t you?”

“Yep,” you chipped and crossed the distance that had somehow managed to grow between the two of you. You raised your hand and repeatedly poked at his chest with your index finger; cheekily, yet deadly serious. “Until it gets through your thick skull that your life matters too much to me, to all of us, you idiotic. Piece. Of dumb-”

You never got the chance to finish your outraged clipped sentence. Steve shut you up the most effective way known to lovers of humankind.

His fingers sunk into your hair in one swift movement, pulling you in for a dramatic kiss.

And after the days of torturous distance, you gave in, convincing yourself that you’d get plenty of opportunities to give him shit about his recklessness later.

After all, you had the sign to help you with that.

Judging by the burst of laughter as the rest of the team entered the kitchen, you bet they would have your back as well.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in conciliatory manner once more, his words brushing your lips. “I love you.”

“Hpmf. I love you too. But the sign stays.”

“…dammit.”

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Sooo, I possibly made it too long? *sigh* I also hope I didn’t like… broke some rule or something, my first prompt fic and all. If I did, I’m really sorry.

Anyway, I wanted to thank @mermaidxatxheart​ for letting me be a part of this challenge. I enjoyed participating and hopefully, you people, enjoyed reading :))

[shakespeareanqueer]

Back Off (One-Shot) (Omegaverse)

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Summary: Bucky is very good at warding off creepy alphas who may try to make a move on Y/n. Maybe too good. 

Word count: 3,161 words || Masterlist || Masterpost of my Omegaverse fics

Contents: Omegaverse, intimate contact but no explicit sexual content

A/N: This is my entry for @mermaidxatxheart​‘s Jamie’s 500 Followers Writing Challenge! Thank you for hosting! My prompt was friends to lovers.

Photo by Jens Theeß on Unsplash

Another one of Tony Stark’s famous parties. They always got Bucky on edge—too many people in one room, the pungent odor of the excessive amount of alphas, betas and omegas in the room all swirling around together in a frankly toxic manner. Only by seeking out Y/n’s calming scent—lavender and chamomile and something distinctly her—could Bucky even begin to ground himself. Luckily, Bucky could always find her scent, wherever in the room she was, wherever he was.

Nevertheless, he typically tried to keep his friend in his line of sight—something else to keep him calm. She wasn’t much of a dancer and tended to stay at the bar; he wasn’t much of a drinker and would stand near the door.

Between her and any threat that might come through the door.

But right now, the threat was approaching from the other side of the room, from the dance floor. A tall, lean alpha with gross pit stains from vigorous dancing and pants far too tight for any era’s fashion standards, Bucky’s sure of it.

Something about the way this alpha was looking at Y/n made Bucky uneasy, so he began to inch closer to the bar, his ears perked up and his eyes zoned in on the creep.

Y/n was minding her own business, elegantly sipping her pink house-special martini and chatting with the bartender. Y/n was always making friends with servers and bartenders and custodial staff; she was friendly to everyone and everyone liked her. Bucky could easily understand why people gravitate toward her endearing manner, her sweet smile, her pure, radiating kindness.

The alpha was hovering, waiting for his opening like a circling vulture. The moment the bartender was called away to refill an order on the other side of the bar, the vulture swooped and descended. He leaned against the bar near Y/n’s stool, a cocky grin on his face.

“Hey, baby girl,” he drawled. The intimate and demeaning nickname from a complete stranger made Bucky’s skin crawl. “Why ain’t a pretty thing like you up there dancing?”

Hearing the jerk refer to Y/n merely as a ‘thing’ set Bucky over the edge. He made the firm decision to march over there and stop him.

He found the distance shorter than he anticipated. He must have been slowly drifting towards the scene unawares the entire time. So in only two determined strides, he was by Y/n’s side, just in time to hear her say, simply,

“Because I don’t want to be.”

The alpha had barely opened his mouth to make a sexist retort before Bucky put a protective hand on Y/n’s shoulder and snarled, “The lady said she’s not interested. So back off.”

Bucky was a particularly strong and alpha-y alpha; when he wanted to (and sometimes when he didn’t intend it) he could emit extremely powerful pheromones that would ward off just about anyone. And he was rather talented at warding handsy alphas away from Y/n in particular.

The alpha frowned at Bucky, but walked away.

Y/n beamed up at Bucky in that brilliant way she could that never failed to make the object of her attention feel special and wanted.

“Thank you, Bucky,” she said, laying a small hand on the larger, metal hand still laid upon her shoulder (even though the creep had gone), not so much securing it there as making a grateful gesture.

“No problem, doll.” Bucky hoped his face was soft as he gazed down upon Y/n. He had often been accused of having a perpetually and unintentionally angry countenance—what Sam called ‘resting bitch face.’ It usually served to ward off more than just overstepping alphas; it tended to cause everyone to keep a healthy distance, including any potential romantic interests or friends.

But that was what made Y/n so special. She never let the grumpy facade deter her from trying to get close to Bucky and be his friend. As cheesy as it may sound, her warmth managed to melt the icy exterior of the Winter Soldier, and she wormed her way into his heart to become, in addition to Steve and Nat, one of his closest friends.

“I’ll, uh—” Bucky could feel his face heating up under her eye, unwittingly intense with her unwavering attention. “I’ll let you get back to your drink,” he mumbled, and shuffled back to his post against the wall, between Y/n and the door.

With his back turned, he missed the flash of disappointment in Y/n’s eyes at his hasty retreat.

All he saw was her quick bounce back, turning to Wanda who settled on the stool next to her with a bright smile and beginning to chat. There was, of course, no reason whatsoever to be wary of Wanda, good friend and fellow Avenger, so it was not his watchful eye but his longing gaze that lingered on the back of Y/n’s head and her perfect hair.

His focus was so singular that he did not notice Natasha sidling up to stand beside him. Of course, that may also be partially attributed to the super-spy’s natural stealth.

“You could have stayed and had an actual conversation you know,” she said, jarring him out of his reverie. “The opportunity was right there.”

Bucky tried to appear casual and cool, leaning back against the wall and shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m not a great conversationalist,” he muttered.

“Luckily, Y/n’s got enough social aptitude for the both of you,” Natasha countered.

Another alpha began to walk up to the bar near Y/n’s spot, and Bucky straightened up against the wall, once again focusing his view in that direction instead of just making furtive glances.

Natasha’s respondent chuckle was fairly soft and fairly low, but due to her typical stoic nature, Sam still leaned beside her and teased, “What’s got you laughing so uproariously?”

“Bucky’s on the defensive again,” Natasha replied.

Bucky hardly seemed to notice his friends making fun of him, at least until the strange alpha leaned up against the bar and tried to hail the bartender, ignoring Y/n entirely and Bucky finally lowered his hackles.

“Hm?” he asked.

“You know she’s not some helpless damsel omega in distress. She may not be an Avenger, but anyone assigned to work in this building has to have an extensive amount of self-defense training. Even to manage our busy schedules and answer the phones,” said Natasha.

“Oh you’re talking about Y/n?” Bucky tried to play dumb, but Nat and Sam were not buying it. They both fixed him with a glare that could level a mountain. “Yeah I know she’s not—I’m not trying to—”

“Not trying to what? Scare off every single potential partner from an eligible and perfectly capable young omega?” Nat crossed her arms across her chest, popped a hip and arched her brow, in full judgmental Russian spy mode.

“Give him a break Nat,” said Sam, nudging Natasha’s hip with his own. “She’s an unmated omega and he’s a supercharged alpha. It’s all instinct.”

“Lillian in accounting is an unmated omega, and Bucky doesn’t go all guard-dog on her,” Natasha proffered.

“I do not—” Bucky began to defend himself, but the Falcon and the Black Widow continued speaking over him like he wasn’t even there.

“Yeah but she’s got a nose ring,” Sam countered Nat.

“That is not a sign that she has any more ability to defend herself against unwanted attention,” Nat rebutted. Sam went to open his mouth, “Nor does it make her less desirable or attractive to alphas. She is flirted with just as often as Y/n would be, if anyone could ever make it past her personal body guard over here.” Natasha jammed a thumb into Bucky’s hard chest.

She turned to face him and he was glaring down at her, his nostrils flaring as he expelled air through them forcefully, trying to keep himself calm. This demeanor would make most people cower, but Natasha was completely unperturbed. They stayed like that for several moments, Bucky glaring down at Nat and her gazing up at him.

Finally, Bucky averted his eyes and murmured, “Fine, I’ll back off her a little.”

Nat patted him on the bicep and gave him a sympathetic look that bordered on pity. “You’re a good friend, but I’m sure she’ll appreciate getting the opportunity to meet some new alphas, maybe find a mate.”

Something about that sentence made Bucky feel like crying, or vomiting, or tackling Natasha to the ground. But instead, he simply stormed out of the room.

When he was gone, Sam turned to Nat. “Why did you do that? Everyone knows he wants to bond with Y/n, even if he won’t admit it to himself. I thought you wanted them to get together as bad as the rest of us.”

“I do,” she answered. “But they weren’t going to get anywhere just keeping on as they were. Now, the window is open for a few opportunities: first, Bucky could go completely crazy not being able to be around Y/n without having to watch helplessly as alphas make a move on her and finally ask. Second, Y/n could get hit on one too many times and realize she misses Bucky’s ‘protection,’ and attention. Or, my prediction…”

A beat passed. Sam watched Nat, waiting for the continuation of her sentence, but she was watching Y/n, who was already looking around the room for Bucky.

“Which is?” Sam asked, waving his hand in front of Nat’s face, who seemed to him to have spaced out. “Nat? Your prediction is?

A sly smile turned the corner of her lip up as Y/n hopped off her stool. “Coming true.” She nodded towards Y/n’s form retreating through the main doors. “Y/n already missing Bucky, not even needing the push of another alpha hitting on her without Bucky around.”

Sam shook his head and smiled, putting his famous, adorable gap teeth on display. “Damn, you’re good.”

Of course Y/n had noticed the second Bucky’s scent disappeared. The bathroom on this floor was accessible through the ballroom itself, so it wasn’t necessary to exit entirely unless one was departing for the evening. And Y/n had no interest in being at a party Bucky wasn’t at.

She traveled through the elevator, nervously tapping her recently-manicured nails against her leg where the slit in her elegant maroon ballgown exposed her thigh. She had considered putting little silver stars on her nails, but ultimately decided that would be too on the nose.

When Y/n reached Bucky’s floor, he perked up immediately, smelling her through the door. For a moment, he thought he was hallucinating—that driving himself crazy by thinking about other alphas touching her and dancing with her and holding her was making him lose his mind. But then the soft, shy knock came. He leaped out of bed. Then, not wanting to seem too eager, he stood in front of the door for a moment calming himself down, preparing himself.

But it was naive to think he could ever be prepared for her innocent, heart-melting gaze up at him. It would always knock the air out of his lungs, for the rest of time, no matter how often he had the privilege of experiencing her attention.

“What are you doing here?” Bucky finally asked, after staring for a beat too long.

“You left the party,” Y/n replied.

“Yeah? So?” Bucky stepped to the side so she could walk in.

“So I have no interest in being at a party you’re not at,” she stated matter-of-factly.

He closed the door slowly and turned to look at her, slightly agog. “But now I’m not in the way of an alpha who may try and flirt with you.”

Y/n took a step closer to him. “And what if I don’t want the alpha to flirt with me?”

Bucky crossed his arms. “Then you’re perfectly capable of warding them off yourself. Or one of your other friends can help.” He turned away from her and ran a hand through his beard. “But only once you decide you don’t want that alpha. I never let you give them a chance.”

“What if I don’t want to give them a chance?” Y/n took another step closer to him, and without turning, he could feel her presence just behind him, her gaze searing into his back. “Any of them?”

He somehow still wasn’t prepared for just how close she was when he turned around. He barely needed to do more than whisper, and his breath fanned her face as he said, “And how could you possibly know that you don’t want any of them?”

She brought one hand up to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing across his beard. The feel of her touching him, even just that small amount of contact, was almost too much, and he had to close his eyes.

“By knowing who I do want.”

Suddenly her lips were on his, soft, gentle, cautious. When he didn’t move, frozen out of fear of waking up from this dream, she slipped back down from her tip-toe position and went to retract her hand, misinterpreting his inaction as disinterest.

His cerulean eyes shot open at the loss of contact and he grabbed her wrist— not harshly, just to keep her from pulling away.

“You’re sure?” he asked softly, searching her eyes for the sincerity of her answer.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Y/n replied breathily. “Bucky, I don’t want to be anyone’s omega if I can’t be yours.”

He smiled softly and turned her wrist so he could place a gentle kiss to her palm. Then he brought her hand to his neck, placing his hand over hers on his bonding gland. She could feel the blood rushing just under the surface of the skin, the pulse beating out a rhythm in tune with her own heart. “And I don’t want anyone to be your alpha if it can’t be me.”

A wicked smile came over Y/n’s features as she bridged the tiny gap between their bodies, bringing her other hand up to rest on his chest. “Yeah, you’ve made that pretty clear.”

Bucky’s confidence wavered for a moment, and she could tell. Even without being bonded, they were remarkably in tune with one another. He could no longer meet her gaze, and his glance averted to the side.

“Hey,” she cooed, bringing his attention back to her. “If I wanted you to stop— stop being so protective or scaring away the other alphas, I would have asked you to stop. But I liked it. I liked feeling safe and wanted.” Now it was her turn to avert her eyes, to her sparkly silver heels. “Made me feel a bit like your omega.”

Now it was his turn for a wicked grin. “Oh sweetheart.” He brought a single finger under her chin to draw her gaze up to him, so she could see the pure love and desire in his eyes. “Being my omega would be a totally different experience.”

“How so?” she breathed.

“I wouldn’t have to scare off any alphas, because none would even think of approaching you,” he stated.

In one smooth movement, Bucky spun her around and wrapped his arms around her middle. “You’d be in my arms the entire time.”

He began butting his nose and face up against her neck, her shoulder, the side of her face, making her giggle with how his beard tickled her soft skin. “You’d be drowning in my scent.”

Then he slowed and stilled, his face hovering over the right side of her neck so she could feel his hot breath on the spot pumping her sweet scent into his nose and just screaming out for him to sink his teeth into. “And,” he murmured. He pressed a single, feather-light kiss to her bonding gland. “You’d have my mark.” Another kiss, a little firmer. “On display, for everyone to see.”

The final time he brought his lips down, he parted them slightly, letting his tongue dart out to taste her ethereal flavor. She let out a moan and he tightened his grip around her middle, pulling her back into him so she could feel his erection against her back.

“Is that what you want, sweet ‘mega?” he asked. “Want me to mark you, make you mine?”

Reaching behind her to run her fingers through her hair, she gasped out, “Please.”

The next morning, Peter stepped through the elevators and walked into the Avengers common floor, eager to start his day. Tony always insisted on meeting him there for breakfast before allowing him to come down and assist him in the lab for his internship. He was surprised to see Y/n puttering around the kitchen in only an oversized SHIELD sweatshirt that came all the way down to her knees. He was familiar with her of course, and often saw her in the tower cafeteria for lunch or dinner, or in the living room or home cinema at group bonding events. She worked for the team, after all, and was friends with most of them, especially Bucky. But he had never seen her this early in the morning, and rarely on the weekends.

He approached and put his backpack on a stool. “Good morning, y/n,” he said slowly.

She turned from the coffee maker and he was treated to a bright smile. “Good morning, Peter.”

“Didn’t expect to see you here this morning,” Peter commented, hoping he sounded casual, as he reached into the cupboard for the Frosted Flakes.

“You’ll probably be seeing a lot more of her now.” Tony announced his arrival by answering Peter’s unasked question. “Now that she’s bonded to Old Fogey Number Two.”

That was when Peter caught sight of it: the still fresh and angry tooth marks on her neck. It looked painful, but she was humming as she poured creamer into her mug, and 2% milk into Bucky’s.

“I thought they were just friends,” Peter whispered to Tony, thoroughly confused.

“Not anymore, thank goodness,” he replied.

Just then, Bucky walked into the kitchen in just the matching SHIELD sweatpants to Y/n’s sweatshirt, hung low on his hips. There was an actual smile on his face, which Peter wasn’t sure he’d seen on Bucky without a joke having been cracked or a prank played on Sam. He wrapped his arms around his mate, trapping her between him and the counter.

“Thank you for making me coffee, omega” he murmured.

“You’re welcome, alpha” she replied.

Before releasing her, he pressed a sweet kiss to her lips, then to her bonding mark, making sure to take a deep inhale of her heavenly aroma.

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

Nothings ever what it seems

Bucky Barnes x Reader AU

Summary: Sometimes how we see things by our own eyes are not how things really are. This a journey of how you should never judge people by what you see.

Warnings: Swearing, bullies, parent’s death, mention of death, depression, lots of angst, but a happy ending.

A/N: This is my little entry for @mermaidxatxheart​ 500 followers challenge, but I’m pretty sure it doubled by now ;) It’s really emotional and kind of triggering stuff so if you do not feel like reading PLEASE DON’T. But I am very happy about this piece as I always wanted to write something about bullies, as it’s a personal thing for me. I hope you will enjoy it <3

oh and let me tag @idjitmonkey​, I hope you don’t mind, but you wanted to have a read at that, so here it is <3

Word Count: 4300+ (wow, sorry)

There are people who loved high school. All the sports teams, cheerleading, friendships that would pathetically last forever. First ‘real’ relationships, sex drive and partying. Oh, and the prom, homecoming and all the shitty things all the girl were so happy about. All those people loved High School. But you were not one of them. 

You hated it so much. Every memory you had about this time of your life was filled with sadness, anger or anxiety. You hated everything associated with High School. You never went to any sports events, didn’t care about cheerleading or who is dating who. You couldn’t give less of a shit about fashion, make-up or the parties. Those years were a nightmare for you. 

As a shy girl that focused her attention on studying, books and all the ‘lame’ clubs (like history and literature) you were one of the first to be bullied. You tried your best not to show that it affected you, hoping that they would give up eventually. Of course, being a poor kid in a school fool of rich assholes wasn’t helping. You weren’t dressing like them, weren’t talking the same language. You never went out, not to mention that you never had a taste of alcohol or went on a date. 

All you ever cared about was your education and all those part-time jobs you started to get when you finally turned 16. You needed the money more than all those stupid parties. Despite having a full-paid scholarship for your school there were still expenses that needed to be covered. Like your dad chemotherapy. Despite him trying to hide all the expenses from you, you knew how much money went into that and how little savings he had. All the money went on you, and you decided that as soon as you turn 16 you will work for yourself. And so you did. After the first year of high school, you gave up on all the clubs and took three part-time jobs. You slept around 4 hours with an extra two on Sundays, but you managed somehow. 

Your dad was pissed when he found out that you gave up your young, high school life for him, but he was never more proud of you. You cherished those little moments you had with him. You always gave him the stories you wrote and he gave you the best feedback. You told him some made-up stories of your amazing highschool and friends you had. He didn’t need to know how lonely you were. Nor about the bullies, that seemed to love making your life even a more of a living hell. 

HYDRA. That’s what they called themselves. Bunch of guys (and girls) that would start their life by taking all the lunch money from the kids. When they found out you had no actual money they made sure to destroy you mentally. During lunches they would always accidentally tipped their drinks on you, leaving you with dirty and soaked clothes until the end of the day. 

But this you could survive. From time to time Steve Rogers and his gang would step up and defend the weak. A captain of the football team and the smartest guy in school has never looked down on you. But he was also from a rich family, that should ‘keep their level’ which means he would never even consider being friends with someone like you. 

But there was him. James Buchanan ‘call me Bucky’ Barnes. From what the rumours said he was friends with Rumlow - the head of HYDRA gang - since primary school, but before high school they got into a huge fight. And now became the biggest enemies. 

“You ok?” He once asked you, those grey-ish eyes that would hunt you till your last breath - gazed at you. He was the first person that treated you like a human being in this school and your stupid teenage heart decided to fall for him. For someone, you could never have. Someone that was from an entire world. A place where he could happily be a high schooler, a playboy and the most charming boy you ever met. All he needed was just a simple smile and all the girls would give themselves to him. The bad boy looks mixed with a kind heart. 

If you wouldn’t be so tired and focused on school and work, you would probably be apart of this group of girls secretly hoping he would ask them out. But you weren’t. So despite trying to make things better, you - the world's biggest disaster - just growled, took your backpack and left with no words spoken to anyone. 

The Avengers, as HYDRA called them, weren’t too happy about how you treated their kindness. Natasha Romanoff, a daughter of ahead of the police, cornered you in the bathroom once and made very clear that next time someone saves your sorry ass you thank them. 

And that’s how you went on with your life. Having two biggest, most influential gangs in high school hating you. Sometimes you would catch Barnes (you would never call him any other than his last name) glancing at you, smirk under his nose. 

So your life continued. It was cruel and tiring but a least you had your dad to make it work. It was him to beg you to go to at least your prom if you missed the homecoming. (you told him you weren’t feeling good). He even bought you a dress online. So when the day came you got yourself ready and was about to head to show yourself all fancy looking to your dad, when you got a phone call from a doctor to come to the hospital as your father was feeling worse. 

And this was when your life changed completely. There you were in this ridiculously beautiful dress, watching your dad’s heart stop beating before you were able to show yourself to him. Your world ended that day. At the age of 18, you were left alone in this world. With an enormous bill to pay and an acceptance letter for the NY University. On this day, you closed yourself even more. You didn’t even care about all those mean words from Rumlow or the little smirks and looks from Barnes. You focused completely on studying and surviving. You sold the house your dad still had hoped to keep and with the money you had from it you rented a small apartment outside of NY. An hour and a half drive altogether, but at least something you were able to afford. 

When you got that acceptance letter, you promised yourself that your life will change. You will be a better person and actually enjoy uni, even if you would have to work twice as much. You wanted to do it for him. Your dad. But now that he was gone, you had no reason. So before the Uni started you were able to find yourself two surprisingly well-paid jobs.

**

Journalism was always something you wanted to do. A little dream in the back of your head. Something your dad always encouraged you to do. And now that you were finally about to start your year at your dream Uni, there was nothing that would stop you. At least that’s what you thought. Until your first introduction class to WW2 you decided to take, as you always loved history. 

“Well isn’t this Mrs Trouble-maker?” You froze hearing the familiar voice of the man who once helped you. You looked up from the book you were reading while waiting for the class to start. “Of course front table.” He chuckled and smirked at you. The same damn smirk that was hunting you since that day. His hair was a bit longer and he seemed to spend a bit of time at the gym during summer. His eyes, however, were as beautiful as they have always been. 

“Barnes…” You whispered, closing your book and looking up at him. “I didn’t know you were going to NY.” 

“She speaks!” He laughed, turning towards Steve who just walked in. He nodded his head as a way to say hi and sighed at his best friend. “Year of having classes together and you never spoke to me directly.”  

“Buck”, Rogers growled, when the room started to fill. 

“You ok, if I sit here?” Your frowned, when he showed to the seat next to you. You shrugged and turned towards the front of the class when the professor walked in. You tried to focus on the class, ignoring the little glances Barnes was sending towards you. 

*

You were more than relieved not to see him in any of your journalism classes. Apparently, it was just this one you both shared. Through the whole summer, you hoped you will never see the people from high school ever again. You hoped this part of your life was over. You could move on. As pathetically as you do it, just move on. 

“Miss Trouble-maker!” You cursed under your nose, wondering why gods hate you. “I didn’t know you work here.” A small cafe place was paying quite good money as it was normally visited by rich folks that didn’t mind spending 24 dollars on a stupid latte. 

“What can I get you?” You asked trying to stay as professional as possible. You even gave him one of your fake smiles. 

“Oi, Stevie, Natasha, look who I found!” You felt shivers down your spine hearing her name. Oh, Barnes was annoying, while Romanoff was just frightening. And of course, she looked even more beautiful after summer. Her always short hair grew longer. And not to mention that she has probably lost some kilos as well. If that was even physically possible. 

“Y/L/N”, she greeted you with a grin and you welcomed them as they would be every other customer. “I heard you got into NYU…” Oh, how you hated small talk, especially when there was a line of customers started to appear. 

“I’m sorry but the line is getting bigger. Can I help you with your choice today?” You really tried to sound as nice and polite as possible. 

“It’s not very polite to not answer someone’s question”, she hissed and narrowed her eyes at you. 

“Is something wrong.” You froze hearing the voice of your boss. The biggest chauvinistic, rich boy of an asshole you ever met. He was not much older than you, but because he got rich daddy he became a manager of his own coffee place right after uni. “Y/N the line is getting bigger.” He growled at you angrily. Oh, and of course he hated you. Especially after you declined his offer for a date about four times already. He was just waiting for an excuse to hire you. 

“You should teach your workers to answer questions, Jack.” Your widened hearing Romanoffs remark. 

“Natasha! It’s so good to see you.” He smiled and went there to give her a hug. 

“Come on Nat, it’s our fault!” Bucky chimed in, giving you an apologetic look, which you tried to ignore. “Sorry, man. I was trying to catch up with a friend from school.” You did everything you could not roll your eyes at it. A friend from school. That was a good one. 

“Doesn’t justify why the line is getting bigger.”

“Maybe if you helped your workers a bit, it wouldn’t be that bad?” Bucky hissed. Apparently, they both didn’t like each other much. 

“I’m the manager, Barnes. I hire people to do their damn job and if someone can’t they probably shouldn’t be here…” As you were about to just ignore them and take another customer in, you froze hearing his words. “Sorry guys for the inconvenience your coffee on me.” He then smiled and turned towards you. “Well on her, as she seems not to be able to do her job!” Your eyes widen. No, no, that was not happening. Why did the world hate you so much? 

“Sorry doll, I...:” 

“Have you decided on your choice of beverage, sir?” You asked, trying to stop the angry tears from flowing. You were sure that when the day is over you will lose that job. And what’s worse getting a job in the middle of the academic year was a nightmare. Almost impossible. 

“Come on, Buck…” Steve murmured and ordered three cappuccinos for himself and his friends. “And we’ll pay.” He smiled and took his card from the pocket of his jacket. “Sorry about it, Y/N.” You nodded and turned around, preparing yourself for the end of the day. 

*

It was supposed to be your time. Journalism was what you loved since you were a kid. An idea of telling someone’s story was so appealing to you. So beautiful and romantic. But now when the end of the year came and you got a yearly reminder of how much you own to different institutions you were sick. The bill for your dad’s treatment wasn’t getting any better. not to mention the still growing rates of your student loan and all the postponed bill were growing as well. You were completely broke and after losing the job at the cafe you didn’t get to find another one. Not a part-time, who would expect students or something which was remotely near uni or your flat. Not to mention that your landlord needed to raise the rent, which only made you realise how fucked up you were. You were able to get extra shifts at the shop but it still didn’t pay the expenses. You needed to make life decisions and this one, to end your childhood dream was one of it. 

A year of expenses from University was still better than a future 5 years (mixed Master course)  and as much as it pained you to send the letter to the dean you needed to do it. You cried the whole week prior to this decision. You felt even worse when the amazing guy tried to make you stay, promising to try and help you with the loan. But even with the extra scholarship, you wouldn’t be able to make it. So with as much spirit and power you had in you, you thanked him and left his office ending your student career. 

“Miss Trouble-maker!” You have got to be fucking me! Since the cafe incident, he tried to talk to you. Even invited to a 4th of July (and Steve’s birthday) frill and theirs. But you ignored him. You didn’t care you were impolite but you hated him. And as much as you knew he wasn’t really at fault for your shitty situation but now you really needed to put a blame on someone. “I missed you at the hist…” He got quiet when he noticed the tears that you had enough of hiding. “What happened?” His voice serious, and there some softness in his feature. 

“Leave me alone, Barnes!” You hissed, and walked past him, to the end of the building, really not wanting to make a scene at the corridor. “Just once in your life, leave me the fuck alone”, he was taken back by the curse. For all the years he’s been observing you, you never once cursed. Never. You were a goodie girl. 

“No. You’re crying. Come on, tell me what’s happening? Did someone hurt you?” The sincerity in his voice was so annoying. Why was he so nice to you. Why did he even care? 

“Why would you care heh?” You growled, not caring about making a scene anymore. He wanted to know. Then fuck it. He will know. “Why would someone like you care? Your whole life is nothing but open doors waiting for you to cross. Why would you give a fluffing fuck about someone like me? You never cared about making my high school life a living hell beside that damn Romanoff and Rumflow. The never leaving smirk on your face haunts me till this day. The way you look down at people who weren’t so lucky to be born rich.” You sniffed and pushed him away from you when he tried to take a step closer. “And when I thought I was finally free from this damn school, you and Romanoff happened again. You walked into my life, making it a living hell again. This one time after this damn prom night, I wanted to start living again, but no, you were always there, with this annoying smirk of yours!” You didn't care that there were people watching the two of you. You were sure you heard Rogers and Romanoff from the crowd, but Barnes stopped them with a shove of his hand. “But I didn’t care. I learned to have my life a living hell, but then you had to come to my work and destroy all of it, with your damn friends!” You shouted, showing at surprised Natasha. “You with your high status, rich kids behaviour cost me my job!” His eyes widen and when he was about to open his mouth to speak, you stopped him. “You have no clue about my life. No idea how hard it is for me to survive every passing hour. Not to break down and just fucking give up.” You shook your head, wiped the tears with your sleeve and turned around. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Whatever game you were playing, you won, Bucky. Congratulations.” It was the first time you called him that and it burnt your lips. “Damn it, everyone is watching… At least I will never come back to this place…”

“What are you talking about, Y/N?”

“I quit. Are you happy now? huh? DOES THIS MAKE YOU HAPPY?!” You shouted, turning back to him. “Life isn’t always as happy and under control, as yours is. Life is shit, Barnes. I hope you will never have to find it out!” And with no words left you run towards the exit, pumping at Romanoff, who had the decency to look sad. 

*

“I miss you, daddy!” You whispered, putting a simple sunflower on his grave. “I… I can’t do this any longer. My life is a mess, really. I'm a mess. You know… I left uni…” it was a month after you shouted at Barnes and left NYU and the first time you came to your dad’s grave. “I could not afford it. All the expenses. The bills, the loans… Everything just kept crashing down. But hey I got two jobs back. Damn it, daddy… I don’t blame you don’t get me wrong, it’s just. It’s hard. And I made a fool of myself and blamed a poor guy for all my problems. He didn't deserve my bitchy attitude, but… It was Barnes.” you chuckled remembering the time you told your dad about a guy you had a crush on. “He really didn’t deserve it. Now that I think about it, he was always nice to me. A bit cheeky and annoying but nice. Well, I guess it was harder not to have a crush on him, right?” You chuckled through the tears. “I think I will leave NY. I may go and live in a small town. You would be so disappointed at me, daddy. I really wanted you to see me happy. I was ready to come to the hospital and show you this damn prom dress, but… I’m sorry daddy.” You sat on the ground and hid your face in your knees. 

“I’m sorry.” You jumped on your feet hearing a familiar voice behind you. There was Barnes, with tears in his eyes, and a flower bouquet in his hand. “I didn’t know… No one knew…” 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, pretending to start cleaning, the already cleaned grave. 

“Please don’t hate me for that.” You frowned hearing his defeated voice. “Nat looked you up using her dad’s access.” You froze, but then you shrugged. No, you didn't care anymore. “Jesus, Y/N, did anyone from school knew? Teachers? Anyone?” 

“It doesn’t matter, Barnes.” You shook your head and put your small backpack on, and got yourself ready to leave. “Thank you for the flowers. If you wish you can put them next to mine. He would be happy.” 

“Y/N, please.” He cried, stopping you by your wrist. “Please… I… I really didn’t know about your situation. I didn’t know your dad was sick, not that he died… Please.”

“What do you wanna know Barnes? What’s more important, why do you need to know? It won’t change anything.”

“I always looked at you.” He smiled softly. “You were this smart, quiet, beautiful girl who caught my eyes. Damn, I was obsessed with you. I was hoping to see you at the prom, I wanted to ask you out. But you never came, now I know why...“ His gaze shifted at the grave behind you. “I cannot even imagine what you went through… But maybe we can start from the start and I can take you out for a coffee or something?” You looked at him and there was something shifting in your heart. This always confident guy was now all shy and nervous, all because of you. You put your hand on his cheek and smiled. 

“I will start everything from the beginning. This is why I’m leaving. Have a great life, Bucky.” He wanted to stop you, convince you to not leave but he knew that he was being selfish. So he watched you go. He left the flowers on the grave and promised to come here every year from now on. And maybe he would be able to see you again. 

*

It has been years since you came to this place. Ten years since you moved away and started a new, better life. You moved to Carlisle and worked in the little library there with some extra job in the small coffee shop. You got your degree in teaching and not journalism and you schooled kids in the little military school there, while you found yourself writing books, one after the other and before you were able to blink you were one of the most established writers. Your books were selling quicker than the freshly baked bread and you were finally happy. You were sending flowers to your dads grave unable to come back there. Until this year. After years you decided to move back to NY. A city you found yourself to actually love. You bought an actual flat in Brooklyn and got a small teaching job at the school there. Despite not having to work, thanks to your books, you still loved doing it. 

And when the anniversary of his death came, you finally went there, only to be met with a figure cleaning the grave. You frowned, knowing that you have cancelled the yearly grave caring. 

“Hello?” You froze when the man turned around. Despite those ten years, he hasn’t changed much. He has cut his hair from what he had in college. He has become a bit bigger, especially around shoulders. His jaw seemed sharper than before. He changed. From a boy, he transformed to even a more handsome man. But his eyes stayed the same. Beautiful greyish once that always melted your heart. You didn’t remember him being so tall, but when he straightened up he was a good head taller than you. “Barnes?” 

“Y/N?” His expression softened, hearing your voice. It was visible on his face that he had not recognized you. Of course not. You weren’t this poor kid anymore. You were good clothes and a bit of makeup. Your hair was well done, and not kept in a loose ponytail. Just like he has become a man, you have become a woman. “Wow… You... “ He coughed awkwardly, which made you giggle quietly. “You look great, Y/n.” He finally said, his voice a bit distant, almost unsure what this compliment would make you do. 

“You don’t look bad yourself.” You complimented himself, and you swore you could see a faint blush on his cheeks. “What are you doing here?” You asked, softer now. You noticed the already cleaned grave and some fresh flowers. 

“I…” He hanged his head and took a deep breath. “Don’t be mad at me, ok?” You frowned and nodded, letting him continue. “I… Since you left I came here every year and took care of your father’s grave. I felt so bad for how I treated you, and everything, and… Well when you left, this was the only reminder of you.” You felt your heartache at this shy, lost man standing opposite you. He was this confident, smirking and annoying kid anymore. You could see it in his eyes. He went through ups and downs in his life, which made him a different man. “I… Can stop if you want. I’m sorry, now that I think about it, it was invasion of your privacy… Shit, I…” You stopped him putting an arm on his forearm, to stop him from mumbling. 

“Thank you, Bucky.” His eyes widen, when his nickname sounded so soft. He swallowed and smiled shyly. “It means a lot to me, really. I… I think I should apologise to you as well. I was unfair to put all my failures on you. you were always nice to me, and I… I think it all just was just too much for me. I’m sorry Bucky for being such a bitch.” He chuckled and you couldn’t help but admit that this made him look even more handsome. So you decided to be a bit bolt. “What do you do after this?” 

“Nothing planned, why?” He asked, brows raised, when you smirked at him, trying to mimic his smirk from high school. 

“How about I go apologise and say hi to my dad and then we can grab that coffee you promised me those ten years ago?” He gaped at you like you were crazy for a second, but then his face lit up and the most beautiful smile appeared on his face. 

“I’d love that doll.”

[bucky-of-the-opera]

Just Desserts

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: A dessert thief brings about the unlikely duo of Bucky Barnes and Y/N

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,800ish

A/N: This is for mermaidxatxheart’s 500 Followers Writing Challenge! This takes place at the Avengers Compound in an alternate universe where they all live together. My prompt is “They told me you’re the guy to see.” “For what?” “Murder.”

The beeping from your alarm woke you from your slumber. And the warmth of your bed was so soothing that you almost turned the thing off and went back to sleep. Almost. But skipping one of Captain America’s mandatory training sessions was like signing your own death warrant. One of the other recruits had once made the mistake of arriving late for training, and was asked to stay behind afterwards. To this day, no one knows what Captain America said or did to the recruit, but that was the last day he was seen at the compound. So, you begrudgingly rolled out of bed. 

The day consisted of intense endurance training that had your body aching by the end of it. One hot bath later, and you were back in your comfortable pajamas, walking to the kitchen designated for the recruits. There was a slice of pie sitting in the refrigerator that you had been saving, and it was calling your name. 

You pulled the door open and grabbed the container. It felt lighter than you remembered. You removed the lid to find a note in place of the pie. 

Pie will interfere with your training regimen.

— S. Wilson

P.S. It was delicious

You crumpled up the paper, shoved it in your pocket, and stormed back to your room. There was no way Wilson was getting away with this, even if he was an Avenger. He was going to pay, and you were going to get help from the best to make sure of it.

The next morning, you marched into the main kitchen where you found the man you had been searching for: Bucky Barnes.

He was sitting at the table alone, reading a newspaper. You marched over toward the table and pulled out the chair across from him; it screeched to announce your presence.

Bucky lowered the paper just enough so that he could watch you as you plopped down in front him. He was intrigued; the recruits were usually too intimidated by him to even glance in his direction. And yet, here you were.

“Can I help you?” he asked, looking back at the paper.  

“I believe you can, Sergeant Barnes. I’m Y/N; a new recruit.” You rested your hands on the table, interlocking your fingers. “They told me you’re the guy to see.” 

He flipped to another page. “For what?” 

“Murder.”

That caught his attention. Bucky set down the newspaper and looked fully at you. 

“You know I’m not a mercenary anymore, right? I’m an Avenger; which means I’m only allowed to kill someone if I have permission from people who hold important positions. And you…” he trailed off, looking you up and down before meeting your eyes. “You are not one of those people.”

He leaned back in his chair and resumed his reading. 

You took a moment to compose yourself after his harsh, albeit honest, statement. “Okay,” you said as you cleared your throat, “maybe ‘murder’ was the wrong word. What about something a little less permanent?”

Bucky glanced at you. “Like what?”

You tapped your knuckles on the table. “I don’t know; something that sends a message.”

He huffed. “Why not send a strongly worded email instead?”

The man was infuriating, you thought. No wonder people tend to avoid him. Before you could respond, he spoke again. 

“Out of curiosity,” Bucky began, “who’s the target?”

You paused before announcing his name. “Sam Wilson.”

The corners of Bucky’s mouth twitched upwards at the mention of his teammate’s name. Dare you say it was a smile? But just as fast as it appeared, it had already vanished. “Birdbrain, huh? What did he do to get on your bad side?”

“He stole my pie.”

“Your pie?” he asked, incredulously.

You nodded. “And I have proof.” You pulled the slightly crumpled paper out from your pocket and slid it across the table toward Bucky. “He left this note in the container.”

“That’s his chicken scratch,” Bucky confirmed. “But why don’t you just take it up with him? I’m sure he’d buy you another pie if you asked nicely.”

“You don’t understand; my uncle baked it. There’s people who wait all year for his pies.” You leaned forward. “Sergeant Barnes, I wait all year for his pies. The man has perfected the pumpkin pie and the apple pie. Any other bakery or store bought replacement would be an insult–”

“All right, all right,” he interrupted, rubbing his face. “Forget I asked. But why do you need my help? Can’t you come up with some brilliant plan all on your own?”

You rubbed your arm, glancing down. “Well, I could. It’s just… he’s an Avenger. And I’m a recruit…”

“You think you’ll get fired if you retaliate?”

“That, or I’ll mysteriously disappear. Never to be heard from again.”

Bucky chuckled. “You recruits have been listening to too many rumors.” He considered you carefully before saying, “Okay.”

“Okay?” you repeated. 

He nodded. “I’ll help you.”

You sighed in relief. “Thank you so much, Sergeant Barnes!”

“Bucky,” he corrected you.

You smiled. “Thank you, Bucky.”

He gave you a tight-lipped smile in return. “So, now we have to figure out how to hit Wilson where it hurts. Lucky for you, I may already have an idea or two in mind.”

***

After much consideration, you and Bucky had opted for the “eye for an eye” route. He told you that the plan was simple enough that he would take care of everything. You just had to act normal and not draw any unnecessary attention toward yourself. Which hopefully wouldn’t be too hard. 

A few days later, you were back in the gym with the rest of the recruits. Steve had split the group up into sparring pairs and had asked Bucky to help him oversee the day’s training. You had begun the match with your opponent when Sam entered the gym and made a beeline for Bucky who had stopped his rounds to observe you. 

“Have you seen Redwing anywhere? He’s not with any of my gear,” Sam said.

His presence had distracted you and caused you to lose your footing. Which allowed your opponent to pin you onto the mat. 

“Mind your footing, Y/L/N.” Without tearing his eyes away from where you lie on the ground, he responded to Sam. “I haven’t seen your pet anywhere, Wilson. You should really take better care of your belongings.”

You were struggling to break free of your opponent’s grip while simultaneously trying to eavesdrop on the conversation. You snuck a glance toward the two men. Bucky looked calm, almost bored. Meanwhile, Sam was irate. He opened his mouth to speak just as Bucky cut him off.

“Now if you don’t mind, I’m trying to teach here.”

Sam huffed. “I know you’ve got something to do with this. You don’t fool me.” He spun around and marched out of the room, in search of his missing drone. 

Bucky watched him leave before turning back to face you. He gave you a wink before finally moving on to observe the next pair. 

When your training session had ended, the recruits were dismissed. You hung back until just you and Bucky remained in the gym. He was staring at you with his arms folded.

“You’re gonna blow our cover from the get-go.”

“Sorry. I’ll be more cautious next time.” You rubbed your arm, staring at the ground.

He sighed. “What’s the matter?”

You hesitated before finally responding. “What’s going to happen when he finds out I was responsible for the kidnapping?”

“First of all, you can’t kidnap a drone. We’re simply borrowing it.”

You let out a chuckle, and he gave you a rare smile in return. 

“You’ve got nothing to worry about; Wilson will never know you were involved. As long as you don’t give us away,” he added.

You grinned at him. “Ya know, you’re not as scary as people say you are.”

“Yeah, well, don’t go spreading that around. I don’t need more recruits coming up to me and asking for favors.”

“Your secret is safe with me, Bucky.”

***

Several days had passed, and tensions between Sam and Bucky were still running high. The two sat on opposite sides of the couch in the common area, with Steve between them. Sam had grabbed the remote, flipping through the channels until he finally landed on a cake baking competition. 

“Man, a cake sounds so good right now,” Sam said. 

“Thought you’d be more of a pie guy,” Bucky mumbled.

“What was that, Tin Man?”

“I said that you seem more like a pie guy.”

“Hey, I don’t discriminate. I’m down for any kind of dessert.”

Bucky smirked. “Especially if it’s free, right?”

Sam narrowed his eyes at Bucky. “What are you talking about?”

“I may have heard from a little bird that you stole a pie from the recruits’ fridge. And before you deny it, I saw the note.”

Steve turned to Sam. “You stole a pie? And left a note?”

“It was in there for days, and there was no name on it! I figured whoever it belonged to had forgotten about it. And it would’ve been a shame for such a delicious pie to go to waste.”

Steve and Bucky both stared at Sam. 

“Ugh. Why are we even talking about pie when we should be talking about how you stole my drone?” He pointed at Bucky. 

“Did you steal Redwing?” Steve asked. 

“There’s no proof that it was me. And besides, even if I did steal it, I’d say it would make us even for the time you stole my arm.”

Sam chuckled. “You gotta admit, that was pretty funny though.”

“For you, maybe,” Bucky muttered.

“Bucky, give Sam his drone back. And Sam, stop eating the recruits’ food.” Steve shook his head. “Unbelievable. I train these rookies all day, and then I have to parent the two of you.”

“Whatever,” Bucky groaned before leaving the room. 

He was headed back to his bedroom when he crossed your path in the hallway. He stopped in his tracks.

“So, uh, Steve is making me give the drone back. But we drove Sam crazy for a few days, so I’d say we still accomplished our mission.”

“I’d say so too.” You smiled at him. “I know you’re busy and probably find recruits annoying, so, um, thank you for helping me.”

“Most recruits are annoying. But you’re…” his eyes met yours as he searched for the words to say. “... tolerable.”

“Bucky Barnes, you’re an actual teddy bear, aren’t you?”

A blush dusted his cheeks; he was at a loss for words. 

You laughed and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, maybe we can mess with Sam again sometime.”

“I look forward to it,” he said, smiling back at you. “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

“See you, Bucky.”

[peterman-spideyparker]

Eternally (Bucky Barnes x Reader) Part 1/?

Author’s Note: Hey guys! I’m really excited for this fic, it’s been a while since I’ve written for Bucky! This series is for @mermaidxatxheart​ ’s follower celebration, and it takes inspiration from the Jonas Brothers’ song Lovebug. This fic has flashbacks, which appear in italics, and they don’t always appear in chronological order. Everything that’s typed in normal font, though, is chronological. I don’t know how much this description makes sense, but it will when you read it! I really hope you guys enjoy, and let me know if you want to be tagged! :)

Summary: Adjusting to life in 1940s Brooklyn, you hope that everything will go smoothly. However, that’s not how life works. And according to that logic, it makes sense that you forgot your lunch on the first day of your new job.

Warnings: Fluff

Other Characters: Skinny!Steve

Word Count: 1,336

“Just perfect,” you sigh. You rummage through your purse looking for your lunch, only to remember that you left it on the counter at home. Just how you want your first day of work to go.

“Minnie, I’m going to take my lunch break,” you tell one of the nurses. “Any suggestions where to go? I forgot my lunch, and I don’t really have a hankering for hospital food.”

“There is an amazing diner a half block down,” she tells you. “Delicious burgers and a delicious busboy.”

“Good to know, Minnie,” you tell her as you grab the coat off the back of your chair. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

You take a quick stroll down the sidewalk and easily find Sharona’s Diner. As you enter, you see all different groups of people. There are teenagers by the jukebox, elderly couples in booths, businessmen at the front counter, and everything else sitting at the tables. You find an empty seat at the end of the counter and pick up the menu.

“First time here, huh?” you hear a rich, raspy voice say to your left.

“Is it that obvious?” you shyly chuckle, turning your attention from the menu to the voice. He’s wearing a tight off-color t-shirt, grey slacks, and is resting a dish tray on his hip. This must be the busboy that Minnie told me about. She was right, he is very delicious.

“Well, if you want my opinion,” he says, “you can’t go wrong with the All-Star Burger. Tell you what, if you get it and don’t like it, I’ll buy you a chocolate shake.”

“You’re on,” you smirk.

You do as he suggests and order the burger, and you am not let down. It has to be the best burger you’ve ever had. When you’re halfway through lunch, he passes by again.

“So?” he asks. 

You swallow before speaking. “Amazing,” you tell him.

“Told ya,” he smirks. “How ‘bout I still get you that chocolate shake? Gotta have something to push it down.”

“No, no. It’s alright, I—.”

“No, I insist. Give me one second.”

You are about to protest further as he walks away, and you feel a small blush rise to your cheeks. Soon enough, he brings you a milkshake and a basket of fries.

“What’s with the fries?” you ask.

“I figured you seem l like a girl willing to take a risk. My friend Steve can’t get past the idea of dipping fries in a chocolate shake. Now me on the other hand, I think it’s delicious. I want you to be the tiebreaker.”

“Oh?”

“Well, you have good taste. You listened to me, after all.”

“Alright,” you say, picking up a french fry. He follows suit and dips a fry in with you, and you put it into your mouths at the same time.

“So?” he asks again.

“You’re right once again,” you chuckle. “It’s quite good.”

He breaks into a large smile and chuckles, looking down at the counter. “I, uh, guess I should get back to work.”

“I guess I should, too,” you say, looking down at your watch. “My lunch break is just about over. Can I get the rest of the shake and fries to go?”

“Of course.”

He takes care of the rest of your lunch while you pay the bill.

“There you go, doll,” he smiles.

“Thank you—,” you start, but are promptly cut off.

“Barnes!” a loud man shouts from the kitchen, and you can only assume it’s his boss. “Stop flirting with the customers and do your job!”

His smiles slowly fades and he looks down and sighs. “Yes, sir!” he responds. But before he leaves he turns back to you. “Meet me back here when my shift is over?”

“When’s that?”

“4:00.”

You bite your lip and hesitate. “We’ll see,” you tell him, taking the rest of your lunch and walking out the diner.

“You seem extra happy,” Minnie says as you hand my coat on my chair. “I’m guessing you went to the diner?”

“Yes I did,” you tell her. “Everything was delicious.”

“And the busboy? I’m assuming he’s the reason for your leftovers.”

“He was very sweet.”

“Sweet? He’s a dreamboat. Every girl in Brooklyn wants to be on his arm.”

“Not this one,” you tell her.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Did you not see his face?”

“Yes I did, Minnie. I just can’t let myself get involved with anyone.”

You can tell that she wants to say more, but she lets the subject drop as you both go back to work. Throughout the day, you find yourself looking at the clock, waiting for 4 o’clock to come. The thing is, you couldn’t meet the man from the diner even if you wanted too—your shift ends at 5:00. But whatever you’re feeling for him, it needs to stop. You don’t care if it’s a feeling for friendship, romance, even a food guide, you cannot get connected in any way. If you stay in one place too long, the consequences will not work out in your favor.

“Dot?” you hear Minnie say as if she’s been trying to catch your attention for a long time.

“I’m sorry,” you say, shaking your head. “L-Lost in my thoughts, that’s all.”

“Time to go home,” she smiles, adjusting her scarf. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Minnie,” you tell her. 

You put all your files in order and hand them off to the next round of nurses on shift before grabbing your things and making your way out of the hospital and into the crisp Brooklyn air. You make your way down the busy New York streets, trying to not get too jostled around.

“I’m telling you, Stevie, it’ll be fun,” you hear a familiar voice say.

You look up and see the busybody from the diner and a suit and tie, his hair quaffed up as he talks to a shorter blond friend of his. At that moment, he looks up and locks eyes with you, a large smile quickly spreading on his face.

“Well hello again,” he smiles.

“Hello,” you greet.

“I thought you stood me up on my offer.”

“I didn’t get out of work until just now.”

“I’m afraid I never properly introduced myself back at the diner. I’m Bucky.”

He extends his hand for you to shake it, and you do something you swore you’d never do: “(Y/N).” You look between him and Steve. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening—.”

“No, no, you’re not interrupting,” Bucky says with a smile.

“Believe me, you’re not,” Steve says. “Tell you what, Buck. I’ll go back to our place and you can hit the town with (Y/N) instead.”

“But I promised you—.”

“I don’t need a girlfriend, Buck. Honestly. I’ll see you around. It was very nice to meet you, (Y?N).”

Before you can protest, Steve pats Bucky on the back and disappears in the busy sidewalk.

“That man is so stubborn,” Bucky sighs.

“He seems like a good friend,” you smile. 

“He’s the best. He’s like my brother.”

“So where were you going before I so rudely interrupted?”

“Lil’ Mo and Kiki’s Jazz Club. The poor guy doesn’t know how to dance. I was hoping I could find someone there to teach him.”

“Aren’t you sweet,” you tease.

“Have you had dinner yet?” he asks, changing the subject.

“I was on my way home to make something.”

“How about I take you out for a bite,” he smiles.

“Two meals in one day?”

“Well, whatdya say?”

You hesitate and sigh. “I really shouldn’t, Bucky. I’ve got to get home.”

“Are you expecting company?”

“Well, no—.”

“Is there someone waiting at home for you?”

“No—.”

“No special fella?”

“No—.”

“Then I say we go out.”

“You’re not going to stop until I say yes, are you?”

“I’ve been told from time to time that I’m stubborn,” he smirks impishly.

“Fine,” you smile. “So, you were going dancing?”

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[nekoannie-chan]

Illusions Masterlist

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don’t steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other’s people. The only exception is the ones I gifted ‘cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Marvel’s characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Main masterlist.

Steve Rogers masterlist.

Steve Rogers X Reader masterlist.

Steve Rogers X Reader series masterlist.

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𝘐𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

(𝖤𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇/𝖵𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗈́𝗇 𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾́𝗌)

Summary: From the first moment that Steve saw you, he felt something different, but your brother Brock knew the dangers if you had a relationship with Steve

 Part I

Part II

The following parts will be published in 2022-2023:

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

Part VIII

Part IX

Part X

[nekoannie-chan]

Illusions part I

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader.

Word count: 2685 words.

Summary: From the first moment that Steve saw you, he felt something different, but your brother Brock knew the dangers if you had a relationship with Steve

Warnings: Bad words, typical canon violence

A/N: My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English, if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.

This is my entry to the @mermaidxatxheart ‘s Jamie’s 500 followers Writing Challenge with the quote prompt:

“I want an answer, damnit!”

“I don’t owe you an explanation”.

Also is my entry to the @coffee-with-bucky ‘s Lyn’s 2K followers Writing Challenge with the prompt #17:

“I’m fine”

“We both know that isn’t true”

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don’t steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other’s people. The only exception is the ones I gifted ‘cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Marvel’s characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Main masterlist.

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If you like it please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Part II  Part III  Part IV  Part V   Part VI  Part VII  Part VIII  Part IX  ParT X

The news that S.H.I.E.L.D. had found Captain America had been quickly spaced in the Triskelion’s halls, everywhere there were talks about the subject, it was something incredible, of course, they were aware of the problems involved in having found him alive.

“Are you excited about the news, bro’?” you asked Brock after training.

“Yes, of course,” he murmured without enthusiasm.

You smiled, Brock didn’t use to show his emotions in public, he had always been like that since childhood, but with you, he was always different.

Like him, you also worked in SHIELD, actually, you belonged to the STRIKE team like him, and some people believed that you had obtained your position thanks to your big brother since he was commander of the team, but it had not been so, it was with your own merits.

As soon as the Captain woke up, many members of the Agency were summoned to an emergency meeting about what was going on, after a long dissertation they had chosen you to be the one who helped Steve adapt to this century.

“Are you sure? We can still go and ask them to assign someone else, "said your worried brother on his way home.

"You always exaggerate, I don’t think will be difficult or dangerous,” you replied.

It had been a great shock for Steve to have woken up at this time, everything was completely different from his time, he had too many doubts, and he did not find any logic to what had happened to him.

How had he survived? The last thing he remembered was coldness.

After a long conversation with Fury, Steve had decided to stay at S.H.I.E.L.D., the Agency had informed him that the next day he would meet the person who would be his guide at this time.

You entered the room where Steve was.

“Awake looks more handsome,” you thought.

“Ma'am,” Steve greeted.

When you heard it, you left your self-absorption, for a moment you had run out of words when you saw him.

“Captain, I am the agent Y/N, I will be in charge of helping you in your adaptation process "you introduced yourself regaining your composure.

You usually avoided using your last name, sometimes people confused you with your brother or thought they were married, in short people were stupid.

From that day on you started teaching him how technology works, as well as his new department, at first, Steve didn’t seem very comfortable with the situation, there were many things so different and others that in his time had not even imagined that they were possible. You also updated him with the historical events that happened after he was frozen.

"How are you doing with Rogers?” your brother asked as you helped him with the paperwork of his last mission.

“Fine, learn fast,” you replied.

You were joking with your brother as usual when Steve came in and saw the situation, he didn’t like the way you behaved with Brock.

“Y/N,” Steve called. “Do you think we can go to the exhibition you told me the other day?”

“Oh … I don’t think it’s possible, today we have to go with the new STRIKE recruits,” you apologized.

“Ah… good luck,” said Steve.

He seemed disappointed.

“That also includes you, Cap,” Brock said.

This fact did not seem to please Rogers at all, in fact, your brother either, neither of them liked the idea of ​​being on the same team, but they were orders from the superiors, even Pierce had ordered the entire STRIKE team that belonged to HYDRA keeping the Captain under surveillance.

Steve decided to wait for you when the training was over, he wanted to remove all doubts once and for all, he had developed feelings for you, but he thought you were in a relationship, if that was true, you would be nothing more than a coworker for him and I would never mention the subject.

Once the others left and you were alone, he approached you.

“How long have you been together?” Steve asked out of nowhere.

You looked at him confused, you didn’t know who he meant or what.

“Who? “you asked.

"Rumlow and you,” he replied completely seriously.

You saw him and then started laughing, you couldn’t believe he was asking you that, Steve was baffled.

“I’ve known him my whole life because Brock is my eldest brother,” you informed him.

Within a few seconds, you received a message that was required in Fury’s office, so you left Steve completely confused.

The next day Steve entered Brock’s office ready to dispel the new concern that had arisen with your response.

“Y/N and you are siblings?” He asked abruptly.

“Yes,” he replied coldly.

Brock assumed everyone knew that in the organization, but he was perplexed to see Steve leaving the place without saying anything else, so he didn’t give it any importance.

Steve felt like stupid, now I thought you were mad at him for what had happened he went looking for you but he didn’t find you because after a short time he was gone, you came to see your brother.

“What happened between you and Rogers?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you replied.

“Y/N”

“Brock”

You stared at each other for a while, you didn’t want him to know about your feelings for Steve because you didn’t feel like telling him the “risks” of going out with someone from work.

“Steve asked you something?”

Your brother saw you again.

“He did it,” he replied, making it obvious,

“Well, I don’t know, that’s why I ask you, genius, it was a funny thing, I supposed he read my file but he thought you and I are dating

"He’s stupid,” he muttered intelligibly.

“What did you say?” you asked.

You didn’t understand what he said.

"Nothing, we have a meeting with the recruits”.

You rolled your eyes, since that accident your brother had become overprotective of you, so much so that you had a great fight when you told him that you wanted to be part of SHIELD, in the end, you did what you wanted and he had no other choice more than accept it.

You understood why he was like that with you, for almost eleven years you were his only family or what was left, not to mention that the other relatives of your parents had turned their backs leaving them completely alone, you never knew exactly how Brock had paid all those hospital expenses, the funeral and so on, the only answer you always got from him was that he had gotten a job at SHIELD

In the gym of the agency the recruits were already waiting for you, you went for a bit of the equipment they would use for the practices.

“Have you seen her? She is very pretty "one of the new members told another.

"I didn’t think there were women like that here,” said the other.

“The first one to conquer her is going to fu…”

Brock had heard that he can’t stand to express himself that way about you, he hit him hard enough to make him unconscious.

“What happened?” You asked when you saw the recruit on the floor.

“They weren’t following the rules,” Brock lied.

Since that day those boys didn’t even dare to see you, they ended up resigning, without you knowing your brother had threats. The rest of the workouts there was no setback.

Steve was trying to be more and more in love with you, he was looking for any excuse to talk to you or meet “casually” in the corridors of the Agency, other times he brought you some small and innocent detail like chocolates. Not counting that you were spending much more time than normal together. You liked Steve’s company although neither dared to talk about his feelings.

Brock realized the situation even if you didn’t tell him anything, it wasn’t something he liked at all, first because he didn’t want you to get hurt, secondly because surely if someone else noticed what was going on between Rogers and you probably he would inform Pierce and he would make some plan in favor of HYDRA, he was definitely against getting involved in all that, you weren’t HYDRA and you didn’t even know that your brother was part of that association.

“Does your sister have a relationship with Rogers?��� Rollins asked.

Brock almost drowned in the coffee he was drinking, if that was true, there would be serious problems.

“No, it’s just for work, you know she’s helping Rogers,” he replied.

If Rollins had already noticed it, it was probably true, he had to find out the truth as soon as possible.

He went to look for you, he saw you talking to Steve, and he walked faster to get closer to where you two were.

“So, are you free on Saturday?” Steve asked.

All-day he had been gathering the courage to invite you.

“No, Y/N has things to do,” Brock replied in your place.

You looked surprised, you hadn’t even noticed his presence.

“Brock!”

The men looked challenging.

“Remember what day is Saturday,” he told you.

It was the anniversary of your parents, that day they usually went to their grave to visit them.

“You’re right…”

“Your friend is looking for you,” your brother informed you.

You saw him, you knew that look in his eyes, and then you would talk to Steve.

“Y/N, she said is urgent to see you”

You made a face and went out to Natasha’s office, she had become your best friend since you entered the agency (Brock didn’t like her very much either), you entered the office.

“Are you looking for me?”

“No,” Nat replied.

“My brother said …”

Then you understood everything that happened, it seemed that one of Brock’s hobbies was to ruin your attempts to date.

“That idiot,” you said through your teeth.

Nat raised his eyebrow.

“Is he being overprotective again? How are you doing with Rogers?”

“I… why do you ask that?” You questioned, blushing.

“I’ve known you for years, you like him, you can’t deny it, invite him on a date, wear a short dress and sexy underwear, I guarantee the results,” Natasha suggested winking.

“Nat!”

“I can distract your brother,” he said mischievously.

“You know he hates you, right?”

“I can figure it out,” he said without giving it any importance.

“You are hateful sometimes.”

“You lie, you love me,” the redhead corrected.

The way back home was silent, as soon as you reached the apartment you were going to go straight to your bedroom when Brock stopped you, he had to know the truth once and for all.

“What’s going on between you and Rogers?” He asked with some discomfort.

“Nothing that matters to you,” you replied.

“I want an answer, dammit,” he raised his voice.

“I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“I’m your brother,” he said authoritatively.

“Fuck you, I’m an adult, I don’t have to explain anything to you.”

You went to your room before he could say anything else. Brock clenched his frustrated fist, he couldn’t explain the situation, he just wanted to get you away from any danger, and the worst thing is that he knew that you felt something for the Cap that meant HYDRA would pay attention to you.

Sometimes you had nightmares, it was always the same, the accident in which your parents died and miraculously you had survived.

That night the same dream was repeated, terror took hold of you, your breathing was too agitated, you were afraid to open your eyes and again be in that hospital bed.

“Hey calm down, I’m here, you’re in our home, safe,” said your brother trying to calm you down.

You opened your eyes to hear his voice, it had only been a dream as in the past.

“Are you ok?” he asked you.

“I’m fine”.

“We both know that isn’t true”.

“I’m really fine,” you tried to sound convincing.

“Again you have those nightmares Y/N, you should go back to therapy …”

“No, I already told you I’m fine,” you interrupted him.

Your brother saw you with concern.

“I’m really fine, you can go back to sleep,” you said hoping your voice sound calm.

It had worked, he returned to his bedroom, you lay in the dark, you stayed up the rest of the night, and the only bad thing about when the nightmares came back was that you were probably going to have them for a whole week.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked.

“Yes”

“Sure?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You look tired,” he said.

“I haven’t slept well, that’s all,” you replied.

You didn’t want to explain, at least not for the moment, you didn’t usually talk about that fact.

“Are you busy on Saturday?”

“Yes, family reunion,” you explained.

You couldn’t find another way to call what you would do.

“Do you have Sunday free?” He asked you, trying not to sound nervous.

“I’m free.”

“Would you like to go to the movies with me?”

You saw him directly in the eyes, his face was completely flushed, and in fact, you thought he held his breath.

“Yes, of course,” you replied.

“See you, then”.

You smiled, now you had to get an idea so Brock wouldn’t find out and ruin your date.

Your day off finally arrived, you had decided to go to your favorite cafeteria, the cakes and milkshakes from that place were delicious and nowhere else did they do so.

You were thinking about what clothes to wear for the date, in addition to how to leave without your brother finding out when you began to hear a great commotion in the street, you saw through the window of the place, what were those monsters that attacked the city?

There was no time to look for answers, you started helping to evacuate people, you had no idea what was happening, your weapon had run out of munitions, trying to fight them was a bit difficult without the necessary weapons, and you hoped that The Agency would have taken action on the matter.

You could not return home for your other weapons, it was far from the place and you did not know the magnitude of the affectations, you checked the area a bit, it seemed that there was no longer any civilian that could be damaged.

“Y/N!”

When you heard your name, you turned around and saw your brother, you felt calmer knowing that the Agency had intervened.

“What are you doing here? I was calling you…”

“What is going on?”

“I don’t know, I think a mission went wrong, they sent me for something else,” he replied.

You looked surprised, usually, they gave them information on the missions, something like that needed a lot of agents, surely they had called you too, you started looking for your cell phone in the pockets of your jacket, you couldn’t find the device, you remembered taking it, you probably had lost or you had dropped while helping people.

“What happens?”

“I think I lost my cell phone,” you said.

“No wonder you didn’t answer my calls, I was worried.”

“I’m fine, I just don’t understand what happened.”

“Your weapons? Do you have enough munitions? "He asked you.

You shook your head.

"This is the only one I bring and I don’t have bullets anymore,” you replied as you showed him your gun.

“I need you to go home then, as soon as this is over I will reach you,” Brock ordered.

Suddenly someone pulled you in the back before either of you could react, you immediately recognized Steve’s arms.

“I’m glad you’re well,” he said.

“What are you doing here?“ he asked you

"I was enjoying my day off”

Your brother was trying to process what happened, he could not believe it, it was as if his nightmares were coming true and again he could not do anything to avoid it, at any moment Pierce would find out and was able to do anything to have the Captain in your power

“What the hell does this mean!?” Brock exclaimed.

[nekoannie-chan]

Ilusiones parte I

Pareja: Steve Rogers x Lectora

Palabras: 2532 palabras

Sinopsis: Desde el primer momento en el que Steve te vio sintió algo diferente, pero tu hermano Brock sabía los peligros que podria conllevar el que tuvieras una relación con Steve

Advertencias: Palabras malsonantes, violencia típica.

N/A: Es mi entrada para Jamie’s 500 followers Writing Challenge con la frase:

“¡Quiero una respuesta, maldita sea!”

“No te debo ninguna explicación”.

Y también es mi entrada para Lyn’s 2K followers Writing Challenge con la frase #17:

“Estoy bien”

“Los dos sabemos que eso no es verdad”

No doy ningún permiso para que mis fics sean publicados en otra plataforma o idioma (yo traduzco mi propio trabajo) o el uso de mis gráficos (mis separadores de texto también están incluidos), los cuales hice exclusivamente para mis fics, por favor respeta mi trabajo y no lo robes. Aquí en la plataforma hay personas que hacen separadores de texto para que cualquiera los pueda usar, los míos no son públicos, por favor busca los de dichas personas. La única excepción serían los regalos que he hecho ya que ahora pertenecen a alguien más. Si encuentras alguno de mis trabajos en una plataforma diferente y no es alguna de mis cuentas, por favor avísame. Los reblogs y comentarios están bien. DISCLAIMER:Los personajes de Marvel no me pertenecen (desafortunadamente), exceptuando por los personajes originales y la historia.

Otros lugares donde publico: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

Si te gusto por favor vota, comenta y rebloguea.

Parte II   Parte III   Parte IV   Parte V   Parte VI   Parte VII   Parte VIII   Parte IX   Parte X

La noticia de que habían encontrado al Capitán América se había espaciado rápidamente en los pasillos de S.H.I.E.L.D., en todas partes se escuchaban pláticas acerca del tema, era algo increíble, claro que estaban conscientes de los problemas que conllevaba el haberlo encontrado con vida.

— ¿No estas emocionado con la noticia, hermano?—le preguntaste a Brock después del entrenamiento.

—Sí, claro—murmuró sin entusiasmo.

Sonreíste, Brock no solía mostrar sus emociones en público, así había sido siempre desde niños, pero contigo siempre era diferente.

Al igual que él, también trabajabas en S.H.I.E.L.D., para ser exactos pertenecías al equipo STRIKE como él, muchos creían que habías obtenido tu puesto gracias a tu hermano, ya que él era comandante del equipo, pero no había sido así, fue con tus propios méritos.

En cuanto el Capitán despertó, muchos miembros de la Agencia fueron convocados a una junta de emergencia sobre lo que estaba pasando, después de una larga disertación te habían elegido a ti para ser quien ayudaras a Steve a adaptarse a este siglo.

— ¿Estás segura? Aún podemos ir y pedir que asignen a otra persona —dijo tu hermano preocupado camino a casa.

—Exageras como siempre, no creo que sea difícil ni peligroso—respondiste.

Había sido un gran shock para Steve el hecho de haber despertado en esta época, todo era completamente diferente a su época, tenía demasiadas dudas, no encontraba lógica alguna a lo que había ocurrido, ¿cómo había sobrevivido?, lo último que recordaba era la sensación de resbalarse.

Después de una larga conversación con Fury, Steve había decidido quedarse en S.H.I.E.L.D., le habían informado que al día siguiente conocería a la persona que sería su guía en esta época.

Entraste a la sala donde Steve se encontraba.

“Despierto se ve más guapo” pensaste.

—Señorita—saludó Steve.

Al escucharla saliste de tu ensimismamiento, por un momento te habías quedado sin palabras al verlo-

—Capitán, soy la agente T/N, seré la encargada de ayudarle en su proceso de adaptación—te presentaste recobrando la compostura.

Usualmente evitabas usar tu apellido, a veces te confundían con tu hermano o creían que estaban casados, en definitiva la gente era estúpida.

A partir de ese día le comenzaste a enseñar el funcionamiento de la tecnología, así como su nuevo departamento, al principio Steve no parecía muy cómodo con la situación, había muchas cosas tan diferentes y otras que en su época ni siquiera habían imaginado que fuesen posibles. También lo pusiste al corriente con los hechos históricos que sucedieron en el tiempo que él estuvo congelado.

— ¿Qué tal te está yendo con Rogers?—preguntó tu hermano mientras le ayudabas con el papeleo de su última misión.

—Bien, aprende rápido—respondiste.

Tú estabas bromeando como siempre con tu hermano como solían hacerlo, cuando Steve entró y vio la situación, no le gustó la forma en la que te portabas con Brock.

—T/N—llamó Steve— ¿Crees que hoy podemos ir a la exposición que me dijiste el otro día?

—Oh...no creo que sea posible, hoy tenemos que ir con los nuevos reclutas de STRIKE—te disculpaste.

—Ah…buena suerte—dijo Steve, parecía decepcionado.

—Eso también te incluye a ti, Cap—aclaró Brock.

Dicho hecho no pareció agradarle del todo a Rogers, de hecho tampoco a tu hermano, a ninguno de los dos les gustaba la idea de estar en el mismo equipo, pero eran órdenes de los superiores, incluso Pierce le había ordenado a todo el equipo STRIKE que pertenecía a HYDRA mantener bajo vigilancia al Capitán.

Steve decidió esperarte cuando el entrenamiento terminó, quería quitarse todas las dudas de una vez por todas, él había desarrollado sentimientos hacia ti, pero creía que estabas en una relación, si eso era cierto, no serías más que una compañera más de trabajo para él y nunca mencionaría el tema.

Una vez que los demás se fueron y estabas sola, te abordó.

— ¿Cuánto tiempo llevan juntos?—preguntó de la nada Steve.

Lo miraste confundida, no sabías a quien se refería o a que.

— ¿Quién?—preguntaste.

—Rumlow y tú—contestó completamente serio.

Lo viste y comenzaste a reír, no podías creer que en verdad te estuviera preguntando eso, Steve estaba desconcertado.

—Lo conozco de toda la vida porque Brock es mi hermano mayor—le informaste.

A los pocos segundos recibiste un mensaje que te requerían en la oficina de Fury, por lo que te fuiste dejándolo completamente confundido.

Al día siguiente Steve entró a la oficina de Brock dispuesto a disipar la nueva inquietud que había surgido con tu respuesta.

— ¿T/N y tú son hermanos?—cuestionó abruptamente.

—Si—contestó fríamente.

Brock suponía que todos sabían eso en la organización, pero se quedó perplejo al ver que Steve salía del lugar sin decir nada más, así que no le dio importancia.

Steve se sentía como estúpido, ahora creía que estabas enojada con él por lo que había pasado fue a buscarte pero no te encontró porque al poco tiempo que él se había ido tú entraste a ver a tu hermano.

— ¿Qué pasó entre Rogers y tú?—te cuestionó.

—Nada—respondiste.

—T/N

—Brock

Se miraron fijamente por un rato, no querías que él supiera de tus sentimientos hacia Steve porque no tenías ganas de que te dijera los “riesgos” de salir con alguien del trabajo.

— ¿Steve te preguntó algo?—preguntaste finalmente

Tu hermano te volvió a ver.

—Tú que crees—respondió haciéndolo obvio,

—Pues no sé, por eso te pregunto, genio, es que fue algo gracioso, se suponía que tenía que haber leído mi expediente pero creyó que tú y yo salimos.

—Es un estúpido—farfulló inteligiblemente.

— ¿Que dijiste?—inquiriste, no habías entendido.

—Nada, tenemos junta con los reclutas.

Pusiste los ojos en blanco, desde aquel accidente tu hermano se había vuelto muy sobre protector contigo, tanto así que habían tenido una gran pelea cuando le dijiste que querías formar parte de S.H.I.E.L.D., al final hiciste lo que quisiste y a él no le quedó otra opción más que aceptarlo.

Entendías porque era así contigo, desde hacía casi once años eras su única familia o lo que quedaba de ella, sin contar que los otros familiares de sus padres les habían dado la espalda dejándolos completamente solos cuando se quedaron huérfanos, nunca supiste exactamente como Brock había pagado todos esos gastos del hospital, el funeral y demás, la única respuesta que siempre obtenías de él era que había conseguido un trabajo en S.H.I.E.L.D.

En el gimnasio de la agencia los nuevos reclutas ya los esperaban, fuiste por un poco del equipo que usarían para las prácticas.

— ¿La has visto? Es muy guapa—le comentó uno de los nuevos integrantes a otro.

—No creí que hubiera mujeres así aquí—respondió el otro.

—El primero que la conquiste se la co...

Brock había escuchado eso, no soporta que se expresaran así de ti, lo golpeó lo suficientemente fuerte como para dejarlo inconsciente.

— ¿Qué pasó?—preguntaste al ver al recluta en el piso.

—No estaban siguiendo las reglas—mintió Brock.

Desde ese día esos chicos ni siquiera se atrevían a verte, de hecho terminaron renunciando, sin que te enteraras tu hermano los había amenazas. El resto de los entrenamientos no hubo ningún contratiempo.

Steve trataba cada vez estar más car a de ti, buscaba cualquier pretexto para hablar contigo o encontrarse “casualmente “en los pasillos de la Agencia, otras veces te llevaba algún pequeño e inocente detalle como chocolates o dulces. Sin contar que estaban pasando mucho más tiempo del normal juntos. Te agradaba la compañía de Steve aunque ninguno de los dos se atrevía a hablar de sus sentimientos.

Brock se dio cuenta de la situación aunque tú no le dijeras nada, tampoco era algo que le agradara del todo, en primera porque no quería que salieras herida, en segunda porque seguramente si alguien más notaba lo que estaba pasando entre Rogers y tú probablemente le informaría a Pierce y él haría algún plan a favor de HYDRA, definitivamente estaba en contra de que te involucraran en todo eso, tú no eras HYDRA y ni siquiera sabías que tu hermano era parte de dicha asociación.

— ¿Tu hermana sale con Rogers?—preguntó Rollins.

Brock casi se ahogó con el café que estaba tomando, si eso era cierto, habría serios problemas.

—No, solo es por trabajo, ya sabes ella es la encargada de Rogers—contestó.

Si Rollins ya lo había notado significaba que probablemente era cierto, debía averiguar la verdad cuanto antes.

Fue a buscarte, te vio hablando con Steve, caminó más rápido para acercarse hasta donde ustedes dos estaban.

—Entonces, ¿estás libre el sábado?—te preguntó Steve.

Todo el día había estado reuniendo el valor para invitarte.

—No, T/N tiene cosas que hacer—contestó Brock en tu lugar.

Lo miraste sorprendida, ni siquiera habías notado su presencia.

— ¡Brock!

Los hombres se vieron desafiantes.

—Recuerda que día es el sábado—te dijo.

Era el aniversario de tus padres, ese día usualmente iban a su tumba a visitarlos.

—Cierto…

—Tu amiga te está buscando—te informó tu hermano.

Lo viste, conocías esa mirada en sus ojos, después hablarías con Steve.

—T/N dijo que le urgía verte—

Hiciste una mueca y saliste hacia la oficina de Natasha, ella se había convertido en tu mejor amiga desde que entraste a la agencia (tampoco le agradaba mucho a Brock), entraste a la oficina.

— ¿Me buscabas?

—No—respondió Nat.

—Mi hermano dijo...

Entonces entendiste todo lo que pasaba, parecía que uno de los pasatiempos de Brock era arruinar tus intentos de tener citas.

—Ese idiota—dijiste entre dientes.

Nat alzó la ceja

— ¿De nuevo se está portando sobreprotector? ¿Cómo vas con Rogers?

—Yo... ¿por qué preguntas eso?—cuestionaste sonrojándote.

—Te conozco desde hace años, él te gusta, no puedes negarlo, invítalo a una cita, usa un vestido corto y ropa interior sexy, te garantizo los resultados—sugirió Natasha guiñándote un ojo.

— ¡Nat!

—Yo puedo distraer a tu hermano—expresó de forma traviesa.

—Sabes que te odia ¿verdad?—aclaraste.

—Puedo ingeniármelas—dijo sin darle importancia.

—Eres realmente odiosa a veces.

—Mientes, me adoras—corrigió la pelirroja.

El camino de regreso a casa fue en silencio, en cuanto llegaron al departamento te ibas a ir directamente a tu recámara cuando Brock te detuvo, tenía que saber la verdad de una vez por todas.

— ¿Qué es lo que pasa entre tú y Rogers?—preguntó con algo de molestia.

—Nada que te importe—contestaste.

— ¡Quiero una respuesta, maldita sea!—alzó la voz.

—No te debo ninguna explicación.

—Soy tu hermano mayor—dijo con autoridad.

—Jódete, ya soy una adulta, no tengo porque explicarte nada.

Te fuiste a tu habitación antes de que él pudiera decir algo más. Brock apretó el puño frustrado, no podía explicarte la situación, simplemente quería alejarte de cualquier peligro, lo peor es que sabía que sentías algo por el Cap, eso significaba que HYDRA pondría la atención en ti.

A veces tenías pesadillas, siempre era lo mismo, el accidente en el que murieron tus padres y milagrosamente habías sobrevivido.

Esa noche el mismo sueño se repitió, el terror se apoderaba de ti, tu respiración estaba demasiado agitada, tenías miedo de abrir los ojos y de nuevo estar en esa cama de hospital.

—Hey tranquila, estoy aquí, estás en casa segura—dijo tu hermano tratando de tranquilizarte.

Abriste los ojos al escuchar su voz, solo había sido un sueño como en las veces pasadas.

— ¿Estás bien?

—Estoy bien—respondiste.

—Los dos sabemos que eso no es verdad—aseguró.

—Estoy bien—trataste de sonar convincente.                                      

—De nuevo tienes esas pesadillas T/N, deberías volver a ir a la terapia...

—No, ya te dije que estoy bien—aseveraste.

Tu hermano te vio con preocupación.

—En serio estoy bien, puedes regresar a dormir—dijiste esperando que tu voz fuera tranquila.

Había funcionado, él regresó a su recámara, permaneciste acostada en la oscuridad, te quedaste despierta el resto de la noche, lo único malo de cuando las pesadillas volvían era que probamente las ibas a tener por una semana entera.

— ¿Estás bien?—te preguntó Steve.

—Si

— ¿Segura?

— ¿De qué hablas?—cuestionaste.

—Te ves cansada—aseguró.

—No he dormido bien, eso es todo—respondiste.

No querías darle explicaciones, al menos no por el momento, no solías hablar sobre ese hecho realmente.

— ¿En verdad tienes ocupado el sábado?

—Sí, reunión familiar—explicaste.

No encontrabas otra forma de llamar a lo que haría.

— ¿T-Tienes libre el domingo?—preguntó tratando de no sonar nervioso.

—Lo tengo libre.

— ¿Quieres ir al cine conmigo?

Lo viste directamente a los ojos, su rostro estaba completamente sonrojado, de hecho te pareció que contenía la respiración.

—Sí, claro—contestaste.

—Te veo entonces.

Sonreíste, ahora debías de ingeniártelas para que Brock no se enterara y arruinara tu cita.

Llegó tu día libre finalmente, habías decidido ir a tu cafetería favorita, los pasteles y malteadas de ese lugar eran deliciosos y en ningún otro lugar los hacían así.

Estabas pensando en que ropa usar para la cita, además de cómo irte sin que tu hermano se enterara cuando empezaste a escuchar una gran conmoción en la calle, viste por la ventana del lugar, ¿qué eran esos monstruos que atacaban la ciudad?

No había tiempo para buscar respuestas, empezaste a ayudar a evacuar a la gente, no tenías ni la mínima idea de lo que ocurría, tu arma se había ya quedado sin municiones, tratar de combatirlos era un poco difícil sin las armas necesarias, esperabas que la Agencia hubiera tomado cartas en el asunto.

No podías regresar a casa por tus otras armas, quedaba lejos del lugar y no sabías la magnitud de las afectaciones, revisaste un poco la zona, parecía que ya no había ningún civil que pudiera ser dañado.

— ¡T/N!

Al escuchar tu nombre volteaste y viste a tu hermano, te sentiste más tranquila al saber que la Agencia había intervenido.

— ¿Qué haces aquí? Te estuve llamando

— ¿Qué es lo que está pasando?—inquiriste.

—No sé, creo que una misión salió mal, a mí me mandaron por otra cosa—contestó.

Lo miraste sorprendida, usualmente les daban información en las misiones, algo así necesitaba muchos agentes, seguramente te habían llamado a ti también, comenzaste a buscar tu celular en los bolsillos de tu chamarra, no encontrabas el aparato, recordabas haberlo llevado, probablemente lo habías perdido o se te había caído mientras ayudabas a las personas.

— ¿Pasa algo?

—Creo que perdí mi celular—le dijiste.

—Con razón no respondías mis llamadas, estaba preocupado.

—Estoy bien, simplemente no entiendo que es lo que pasó.

— ¿Tus armas? ¿Tienes munición suficiente?—preguntó.

Negaste con la cabeza.

—Esta es la única que traigo y ya no tengo balas—respondiste a la vez que le enseñabas tu arma.

—Necesito que regreses a casa entonces, en cuanto esto acabe te alcanzaré—ordenó Brock.

De pronto alguien te jaló por la espalda antes de que alguno de los dos pudiera reaccionar, de inmediato reconociste los brazos de Steve.

—Me alegra que estés bien—dijo sin soltarte— ¿Qué haces aquí?

—Disfrutaba de mi día libre

Tu hermano estaba tratando de procesar lo ocurrido, no podía creerlo, era como si sus pesadillas volvieran a hacerse realidad y de nuevo no pudiera hacer nada para evitarlo, en cualquier momento Pierce se enteraría y era capaz de hacer cualquier cosa para tener al Capitán en su poder.

— ¿!Qué diablos significa esto!?—exclamó Brock.

[nekoannie-chan]

Ilusiones parte II

Pareja: Steve Rogers x Rumlow! Lectora

Palabras: 2064 palabras

Resumen: Desde el primer momento en el que Steve te vio sintió algo diferente, pero tu hermano Brock sabía los peligros que podría conllevar el que tuvieras una relación con Steve

Advertencias: Palabras malsonantes, violencia típica, muerte de un personaje, accidente automovilístico, sangre.

N/A: El accidente automovilístico está basado en uno que tuve hace muchos años.

Es mi entrada para Jamie’s 500 followers Writing Challenge .

Y también es mi entrada para Lyn’s 2K followers Writing Challenge.

No doy ningún permiso para que mis fics sean publicados en otra plataforma o idioma (yo traduzco mi propio trabajo) o el uso de mis gráficos (mis separadores de texto también están incluidos), los cuales hice exclusivamente para mis fics, por favor respeta mi trabajo y no lo robes. Aquí en la plataforma hay personas que hacen separadores de texto para que cualquiera los pueda usar, los míos no son públicos, por favor busca los de dichas personas. La única excepción serían los regalos que he hecho ya que ahora pertenecen a alguien más. Si encuentras alguno de mis trabajos en una plataforma diferente y no es alguna de mis cuentas, por favor avísame. Los reblogs y comentarios están bien. DISCLAIMER:Los personajes de Marvel no me pertenecen (desafortunadamente), exceptuando por los personajes originales y la historia.

Otros lugares donde publico: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

Si te gusto por favor vota, comenta y rebloguea.

Parte I   Parte III   Parte IV   Parte V   Parte VI   Parte VII   Parte VIII   Parte IX   Parte X

— ¿! Qué diablos significa esto!?—exclamó Brock.

Steve te soltó de inmediato al escuchar su voz y bajo la mirada apenado.

— ¿Por qué gritas Brock?—preguntaste.

—Quiero una explicación ahora mismo T/N—exigió tu hermano.

—Somos amigos y se preocupa por mí, me imagino que harías lo mismo con tus amigas—respondiste.

—Hmm.

Brock no parecía muy convencido, pero ese no era el momento para una discusión, tenía que sacarte de ahí antes de que resultaras herida, aún faltaban partes del plan de la misión que HYDRA les había dado de último momento.

— ¿Segura que estas bien?—te preguntó.

—Sí, solo estoy un poco sorprendida, no entiendo esas cosas…

—Tengo que llevarte a un lugar seguro—dijo Brock.

Se cruzó de brazos, aún tenía que llevar a Sitwell con el cetro, no te podía llevar con él, eso implicaría que te involucraras o que hicieras alguna pregunta que podía terminar mal, sabía que Sitwell era un boquiflojo y seguramente le avisaría a Pierce, no quería que pasara otra cosa si Steve te llevaba, solo confiaba en una persona.

—Rollins te llevará a la casa, solo necesito comunicarme con él—te informó.

— ¿No puede ser Steve?—preguntaste tratando de sonar inocente.

—Rogers tiene otros asuntos que atender o ¿me equivoco?—dijo Brock entre dientes mirando con severidad a Steve.

Frunciste los labios, no te agradaba la idea.

—Pues ya que—dijiste.

Brock se comunicó con Rollins para que fuera hasta donde estaban, te acercaste a Steve antes de que se fuera.

—Sigue en pie la cita—le susurraste al oído para que tu hermano no escuchara.

Steve asintió antes de irse.

—Sabes que puedes contarme lo que sea, ¿verdad?—te recordó Brock.

—Lo sé, pero en serio Steve y yo solo somos amigos, no creo que sea fácil despertar un día y que el mundo sea diferente…lo sé bien…tú lo sabes también—explicaste.

Brock no sabía que contestar, tenías razón, antes de que pudiera decir algo más Jack llegó.

—Llévala a casa—le ordenó a su amigo.

—Pero Sitwell…

—Yo me encargo de eso—interrumpió Brock.

Brock te dio un beso en la frente antes de irse, de mala gana te subiste a la camioneta que manejaba Jack.

— ¿Hay algo entre tú y Rogers?—te preguntó Rollins sin quitar la vita del camino.

—Nada que sea de tu incumbencia—respondiste malhumorada, cruzando los brazos.

—Tu hermano se preocupa…

—Lo sé, pero ya soy una adulta, sé lo que hago con mi vida.

—T/N hay muchas cosas que no entenderías, Brock solo quiere lo mejor para  ti…

—Steve solo es un amigo, no entiendo por qué tanto alboroto y deja de actuar como si fueras mi papá y se acabó esta plática—sentenciaste.

Jack hizo una mueca, a veces actuabas como Brock, entonces sabía que no le ibas a dirigir el resto del camino la palabra si insistía, así que optó por subir el volumen a la música.

— ¿Segura que no quieres que me quede?—preguntó Jack cuando llegaron a tu casa.

—Brock dijo que solo me trajeras, no que necesitaba una niñera—respondiste bajándote del automóvil y cerrando la puerta de un portazo.

—No cabe duda que son hermanos—murmuró Jack al ver que entrabas al edificio.

Brock llegó tarde esa noche, después de que te habías dormido, en cuanto llegó se asomó a tu recamara para comprobar que estabas ahí, luego se fue a dormir.

Te levantaste temprano, debías irte antes de que Brock se despertará, de la manera más silenciosa saliste de tu habitación, no querías otra discusión, te aseguraste de tener la nota que habías escrito contigo.

 Salí con Nat

 Dejaste la nota en la mesa de la cocina, aunque no era una mentira del todo, si ibas a ir con tu amiga.

Llegaste al departamento de Nat, quien ya te esperaba ansiosa, le encantaba que la dejaras arreglarte.

—Insisto en que la falda es muy larga—comentó Nat observándote.

—Nat…

—Tengo vestidos o faldas más cortas, sé que le va a gustar—te interrumpió guiñando un ojo.

—Así está bien, solo iremos al cine—aseguraste.

—“Van a ver una película “—se mofó Natasha.

—No me gusta tu tono—dijiste.

—No lo niegues.

—Natasha sabes ya cállate, Steve no es como los chicos de esta época, ¿de acuerdo?

Nat río, sabia como eras, sin contar las innumerables veces que te había ayudado a escaparte a citas.

—Eres tan inocente, el que Brock te protegiera solo te dañó, todos los hombres son iguales sin importar de que época vengan.

Pusiste los ojos en blanco, Nat siempre había sido más extrovertida que tú, de hecho recordabas la vez que intentó que tuvieran una cita doble, la cual fue un total D-E-S-A-S-T-R-E.

—Más bien tú quieres que le dé un infarto si me ve con algo tan corto—respondiste.

—Ven, deja término de arreglarte el cabello.

Te acercaste, una vez que estabas lista te dirigiste a la salida.

—Me avisas cómo te fue—te pidió.

—Si llama mi hermano...

—Estamos en un día de chicas, que deje de molestar—Nat completó tu frase.

—Gracias—agradeciste sonriendo.

—Te ves muy bien, quiero decir hermosa…

—Gracias, ¿vamos?

Llegaron al cine, tu corazón latía con rapidez, los nervios crecían, tenía tiempo que no te sentías así.

— ¿Qué película quieres ver?—te preguntó Steve.

—No sé cuál te guste, a mí las de terror—respondiste tratando de no sonar nerviosa.

—Vi muy pocas en mi época…

—Bueno...no me gustan mucho las de romance, pero no sé si te vayan a gusta…

—Me encantaría, si tú la eliges seguro será divertido—aseguró Steve.

Eligieron ver REC 3 génesis, Steve estaba muy sorprendido, había una gran diferencia en comparación con las de su época.

—No entendí, son zombis o ¿qué?—te preguntó mientras iban camino a tu casa.

—Yo digo que estaban poseídos—respondiste.

—Son muy raras y complejas las películas ahora—comentó.

—Hasta aquí está bien—dijiste.

— ¿Segura?

—Mi hermano no sabe que salimos hoy, ya viste como es, no me gustaría que hiciera un escándalo—explicaste.

Steve alzó las cejas.

—Bueno, me divertí mucho —dijo Steve.

Steve se fue y tú te habías quedado ahí parada esperando un beso.

—Ahhhh supongo que antes no era así—te quejaste al darte cuenta que ya se había ido.

Entraste al edificio y en cuanto abriste la puerta del departamento ahí estaba tu hermano esperándote.

— ¿Dónde estabas?—te preguntó.

—Te dejé una nota que iba a estar con Nat—respondiste entrando.

Brock te miró con detenimiento.

— ¿Qué?—cuestionaste al darte cuenta.

—Estás muy arreglada.

—Sabes que soy como su muñeca, no evitar querer maquillarme y demás cada vez que salimos—explicaste.

Brock asintió, Nat siempre hacia eso contigo, viste su brazo con unos moretones.

— ¿Duele?—le preguntaste.

— ¿Qué?

—Tienes unos moretones—señalaste su brazo.

Él no se había dado cuenta.

—No, ya sabes es lo usual de las misiones.

Brock estaba inquieto o quizás nervioso por las circunstancia, podía asegurar que las miradas raras y todo esos saludos en los pasillos eran sospechosos, iba a tener que vigilarlos más.

Steve veía atento tu práctica, una vez que la terminaste te acercaste a él.

— ¿Qué tal estuve?—le preguntaste.

—Bien, solo tengo una duda…

— ¿Cual?

— ¿Por qué siempre vas a la derecha?—cuestionó.

— ¿Qué?

—Sí, cuando tratas de huir lo haces a la derecha, igual cuando atacas.

—No sé, si voy a la izquierda pasan cosas mala—respondiste.

Alzaste los hombros no querías dar más detalles.

—Tengo que irme—te dijo Brock entrando a la cocina.

— ¿Por qué?—preguntaste dejando el cuchillo con el que cortabas el jitomate.

—Junta—respondió secamente.

—Espérame.

—No solo me llamaron a mí, a Rollins también por nuestros puestos—te detuvo.

—Suerte entonces—le dijiste.

Te dio un beso en la frente, no solían llamarte en esas juntas.

—Tu hermana no anda con cualquiera—comentó Mackenzie.

— ¿Qué dijiste idiota?—cuestionó Brock.

—Sale con Rogers—respondió Mackenzie asustado.

Brock le soltó un derechazo.

—Solo son amigos—gruño Brock.

Pondría más atención, si llegaba a oídos de Pierce...

HYDRA era una relación de amor-odio la que tenía hacía ésta, cuando no tenían nada y habían perdido a sus padres, HYDRA les tendió la mano, con eso pudo pagar los gastos de tu hospitalización y podían vivir sin preocuparse por nada.

Steve y tú seguían teniendo citas, él no se atrevía a besarte, cada vez que tú lo ibas a hacer, algo los interrumpía y eso te frustraba. Ese día Steve había decidido que confesaría sus sentimientos por ti.

—Steve—lo llamaste.

Él volteo a verte, le tomaste el brazo para acercarlo, pusiste la otra mano en su rostro y te acercaste más para poder besarlo, estabas tan cerca hasta que sus celulares comenzaron a sonar, tenían una nueva misión.

—Ughh misión—te quejaste.

—Tenemos que irnos.

La llamada de Brock entró a los pocos minutos.

— ¿Dónde estás? Tenemos una misión.

—En el centro comercial, si ya sé, voy para allá—respondiste tratando de que tu voz no temblara.

Llegaron a la zona de despegue donde ya los estaban esperando, al momento en el que entraron atrajeron la atención de todos porque eran los únicos que faltaban

— ¿Por qué llegaron juntos?—te preguntó Brock.

—Me lo encontré en el camino, ¿cuál es el estatus?—respondiste.

—Tienen un proyecto importante de S.H.I.E.L.D., les daré más detalles arriba, tenemos que irnos ya.

Todos comenzaron a subir a la nave, Brock te detuvo.

—Dime la verdad, ¿por qué llegaron juntos?—te preguntó de nuevo.

—Me lo encontré cuando llegué al Triskelion.

— ¿Y lo que compraste?

—Ya no compré nada, justo iba a entrar a una tienda cuando recibí el mensaje—explicaste.

Brock te vio unos segundos, antes de hacerte una seña para que subieras.

— ¿Algún rehén?—preguntó Steve.

—No, solo el proyecto—contestó Brock.

Comenzaron a trazar el plan para recuperarlo.

 2001

 Brock llegó temprano a casa, las clases de la preparatoria ya habían terminado, ahora sólo tenía que esperas los resultados de las universidades

Habías pedido a tus padres que fueran temprano por ti a la escuela, no te sentías bien.

— ¿Quieres que vayamos por una hamburguesa?—propuso tu papá.

—Eso te va subir los ánimos—dijo tu mamá.

—Hmm.

—Nuestros dos hijos dan las mismas respuestas—bromeó tu papá.

Tu mamá rio, ella había notado lo diferente que eran sus dos hijos, pero también lo mucho que se parecían en varios sentidos.

—Vamos T/N a todas las chicas nos pasa, es normal, te aseguro que la hamburguesa te hará sentir mejor, te lo prometo pelusita—aseguró tu mamá.

—Pero comimos el fin de semana pasado y no viene Brock...

—Las compramos para llevar y las comemos en casa todos juntos—dijo tu papá.

—Está bien—aceptaste.

—Entonces en la siguiente desviación a la izquierda—le indicó tu mamá.

Veías por la ventana el paisaje mientras avanzaban, tu padre tomó la desviación, luego bromeó otro poco con tu mamá, tu vientre te seguía doliendo, lo siguiente que ocurrió fue confuso y muy rápido como para comprender detalladamente lo que había pasado, escuchaste un claxon, los gritos de tu madre y unos golpes.

Parpadeaste varias veces, te sentías aturdida, querías llamar a tus papás, pero era como si tú cuerpo no reaccionara, todo daba vueltas, ¿qué había pasado exactamente?

Viste unas manos cerca de ti tratando de agarraste, era tu mamá tratando de sacarte, ni entendías lo que estaba pasando, ¿por qué tenía sangre en su cara?, no lograbas comprender lo que te quería decir, te pareció escuchar sirenas, tus párpados pesaban, cerrarlos parecía buena idea así que eso hiciste.

El timbre sonó en la casa de los Rumlow, Brock por un momento creyó que se le había olvidado las llaves a su mamá, aunque era un poco extraño no escuchar tus gritos apurándolo.

Abrió y su cara cambió cuando vio al oficial ahí, ¿acaso las habían arrestado?

— ¿Brock Rumlow?—preguntó el oficial.

—Soy yo—respondió un poco escéptico.

—Tu familia tuvo un accidente—informó el más joven.

— ¿Qué?

Brock se abalanzó sobre oficial joven, necesitaba respuestas, el otro oficial lo detuvo.

Miles de preguntas pasaron por la cabeza de Brock, ¿solo había sido su mamá y su papá? ¿O eran su mamá y su hermana? ¿O los tres juntos? ¿Qué había pasado exactamente?

—Calma, te llevaremos al hospital donde están—le aseguró.

Los oficiales se vieron el uno al otro, quizás aún no era buena idea decirle todo lo que había pasado   

[mermaidxatxheart]

This was amazing!!!! I loved it. And I loved the sign! That was genius. I’m so sorry I didn’t see this before. I didn’t get the tag. You didn’t break any rules 😍😍 poor Steve everyone loves to gang up on him 😂😂

Challenge Accepted...?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader                Word count: 4468

Summary: Steve’s never been good at quick decision-making when it came to his own safety. After one particularly horrible experience, you find a way to remind him every day to think twice the next time he’s faced with a tough choice. He is not amused. 

A/N: For @mermaidxatxheart​ 500 writing challenge; congratulations! I’m happy to be part of what could be 750 in building ;)

Prompt: “I thought you were dead.” “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?” (bold in text)

Warnings: angst, fluff, attempt at humour and action; swearing, vomiting, sort-of a panic attack, mentions of death (which you probably figured from the prompt, but hey, I didn’t have to take that literally… I did)

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[mermaidxatxheart]

That was amazing and beautiful and so poetically written. What a way to wake up in the morning. Girl it wasn’t even half started and I was tearing up. I loved the way you worked in the background of how they met and fell in love so easily. Sam’s comment made me chuckle and then love him even more because he gave Bucky exactly what he needed 😫 my heart can’t take this kind of emotion, Kas!!! Thank you so much for joining my challenge.

Take My Hand (Take My Whole Life, Too)

summary: Bucky waits at the end of the aisle for the love of his life (heavily inspired by that scene in Crazy Rich Asians) pairing: bucky x reader warnings: a ridiculous amount of fluff  a/n: This was written for @mermaidxatxheart​​‘s 500 follower challenge! I had the song prompt of Falling in Love with You by Elvis Presley, though I was really drawing off the cover by Kina Grannis in the link in the summary. Congrats on 500(+) Jamie!! 🌸

Bucky’s hands were stuffed into his pockets, pulling at the seams of expensive threads as if the unraveling string could release a piece of tension in his chest, let him breathe a little easier, let his head feel a little less numb. Leather wingtips of his shoes were tight around his toes, the tie draped around his neck a little too snug, sweat beading at his temples. His breaths were heavy in his chest, thick like anvils on his lungs as he swayed from one foot to the other.

It smelled faintly of lavender and incense as he managed to take in a shallow breath; memories of Sunday mornings with his Ma and sister traveling into the city adorned in baggy suits and frilly dresses, a pout on his face through his teenage years. Stained glass windows to his left, marble statues to his right; colorful light filtered through the room and touched against the faces of stone, sun kissed, heaven sent.

His hands gripped to fists in his pockets and Bucky gazed out to the rows of old, wooden pews. It was filling up quickly with women dressed in beautiful gowns and men in black ties, talking quietly amongst themselves, stealing looks to the back of the room and then up to Bucky. Nervous excitement, joyful smiles he wasn’t used to be on the receiving end of.

“You alright there, man?” Steve asked to his left, nudging his shoulder teasingly. Bucky nodded quickly, maybe a little too quickly, because Steve started to chuckle under his breath. “There’s still time to run for it if you want? I can get the car started.”

“Not a chance,” Bucky replied without hesitation, his voice rough and raw like stone, unused all morning. He nodded to himself, pulling in a deep breath as he stared down at the double doors at the end of the aisle. “I’m marrying the love of my life today.”

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