#steve rodgers/tony stark

[unholyhelbig]

Can we please please PLEASE have part two of Brackish?

Title: Brackish [Part Two] | Read Part One Here

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanov/Romanoff

Word Count: 3454

Warnings: Mentions of torture, mentions of mind control, mentions of ice baths, cannon typical violence, nightmares, physical testing, murder, KGB conditioning, Horrible grammar I don't proofread!

Summary: Agent Romanoff is sent into an interrogation room to break the only prisoner they pull from a Hydra compound, but things don't go exactly as planned.

[A/n: Totally wasn't expecting the response the first part got, thank you so much! Truthfully this ask and the draft was sitting in my inbox for months. This is just a bunch of fluff. I don't know where to take it from here. Hopefully you enjoy!]

You’d woken up screaming, something that never bothered Daniel Whitehall. There were stretching corridors that were damp from broken pipes and water buildup. It smelled thickly of metal and never offered any kind of warmth. It carried your agony like a music box, or a greeting card. It had amused him- his men. So, you did your best to swallow your distress. But sometimes it was impossible to tamp things down in the bridge between sleep and alertness.

It had been three days and you still expected to be jerked back into the reality. A frigid tub of ice and metal under Whitehall’s hand. You must have lost your grip on reality and the Avengers Tower, Agent Romanoff and her rigid kindness, was all a mental tactic, to account for the trauma. You’d finally been broken.

But no: Right now, as you woke up screaming as the hours rolled into the fourth day, she was there. The bed was too soft. You’d learned, and sleep did not come easy. But you drifted off in spurts and woke with air caught in your throat. Never yelling. Never in such a panic.

You didn’t remember what had startled you, but there was a cool hand against your cheek and another one splayed against your chest and worried green eyes peering into yours. You moved to fight back, wanted to push the limbs away until you realized who they belonged to. Until you breathed in that polished scent.

“Sorry, I’m sorry” You whispered, your fingers ghosting over her wrists.

She was a busy woman. You’d realized that over the past 72 hours. Agent Romanoff was in high demand, her signature was required on countless documents and many with downturned eyes stalked up to her with a nervousness that you didn’t quite understand but, you were beginning to.

After some persistent pushing from Natasha on the second day, you’d agreed to blood tests, to EKG’s and other medical trials to make sure you were relatively healthy after years of captivity. She’d promised to stay, and she did. While a certain heat and embarrassment colored your cheeks at the unspoken request, she saved your dignity that morning by not brining it up.

Natasha frowned, didn’t say anything but applied a short pressure to your jaw with her thumb before guiding a glass of water to your hand as she lowered herself to the bed. “Sip this, all of it until it’s gone. Don’t gulp, it’ll hurt your stomach.”

You nodded, doing as you were told. She watched you carefully until you finished the glass. You wanted to cower under her scrutiny, but your heartrate had slowed by the time you’d drained the water and she’d taken it the moment it was empty, her hand on your knee as a grounding source. She was like that, you’d learned, attentive and able to read what you needed though you’d not found your voice to ask.

There wasn’t a clock in the guest room. You didn’t know what time it was, but no morning light seeped through the crack in the door and sleep still clung to you like a heavy blanket. You let out a deep breath and pressed your head against the wall behind you, tempted to let your eyes droop shut, but stopped from the fear of another scream ripping through you.

“The nightmares won’t go away. They’ll come less and less, but they’ll always be there.” She swallowed audibly, ran her fingers over a raised pink scar from a blade, or a bullet, or some type of metal that could easily tear skin against her exposed muscle. “What you went through isn’t easily forgotten. You can manage the symptoms, push it to the back of your mind during your waking hours but it’s hard to fight that kind of thing when you’re asleep. You’re guard can’t always be up.”

You nodded, working your hand through your damp hair. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“You didn’t” Natasha assured “Would you like me to stay?”

More than anything. It felt like crossing a line. There wasn’t a chair in the guest room. It was fairly sparce. A bed and a nightstand and lamp that had bathed you both in a soft golden glow. It would be easier to tell her no, to ask her to leave. But your chest wouldn’t forgive you for that.

So, you scooted over, looked at her expectantly, going as far to peel back the duvet. Natasha huffed out something akin to a laugh and laid in the spot that you had just vacated. You could feel the heat of her skin, the closeness of her as you lowered yourself down next to her. She paid you a mercy by turning the lamp off.

The two of you lay, shoulder to shoulder, breath synchronized. You couldn’t sleep. Wouldn’t. Your entire body was wound up. While Agent Romanoff’s presence was a balm, it also wound you up like a spring. You were conscious of every movement. Every twitch of your finger and tense of a muscle.   

“It scares me that I can’t remember things.”

You could hear Natasha turn her head in the dark, the shift against the pillow. Her breath was warm against the side of your face. Your fingers curled against the fabric of your shirt, a stone on the center of your chest. You couldn’t remember feeling this comfortable- this at ease- in a long time.

“Do things come back when you sleep?”

It was her job, you knew, to pull things from you. In exchange for a bed and warm meal, you’d give her anything. She had quiet eyes and a quietness to her that gave away the fact that she was examining you methodically. But there was something else there that you couldn’t pinpoint. Something caring.

You turned onto your side, facing her, curling up more for your own comfort. “More of a feeling than a memory. Being there, I recall everything. Whitehall, his brainwashing, his tests and his tortures. His why’s and his motives are foggy. It was like he just wanted to inflict pain. But at his core. At Hydra’s core, I know that’s not true.”

Natasha adjusted on the bed, turned to face you. Inches apart. Her nose was close enough in the dark to bump against your own. Neither of you spoke for a moment, hands brushing closely like a bridge uncrossed.

“I worry that they changed me in way’s that can’t be unchanged, but can’t recall who I was before they’ve changed me. That they kept me alive because they were… succeeding in something that they hadn’t before.” You let out a heavy breath, it splayed hotly against Natasha’s chest, warmed her. “That deep down inside, something uncontrollable is there.”

Natasha made a small noise in the back of her throat that could only be described as a whimper. Tentatively, she’d shifted in the quiet, had found the edge of your jaw in the darkness and traced the sharpness of it with her touch. You let your eyes flutter shut, leaned into it.

Soon, her palm was against your cheek, warm from the prospect of sleep. Her hold soft as she pulled you forward, the initial shock of the swift movement replaced by that detergent scent and the instant comfort. An undignified grunt escaped you when you slotted so perfectly against Natasha’s front.

You’d learned rather quickly that she liked to show her protection.

When your blood had been drawn, the tech on the medical floor insisted of her credentials but quickly blanched with a glare from the Black Widow herself and the assured hand at the base of your spine. You’d shown your strength during the physical trials as they monitored your heartrate during a mile run, and Natasha had watched with a warning stare as another tech adjusted the censors.

And now, she wrapped her arms around your center and hooked her leg over your own. She was tense until she felt the coolness of your nose against her pulse point, the way you nuzzled against her, sighed into her comfort instead of tensed, as if she feared of rejection.

“We’ll figure it out.” Her voice was a rumble, your ear this close to her chest. “Get some sleep. I’ve got you.”  

There was a sensor under your collarbone, one on either side of your chest, and another directly under your ribs. Two more that had been stuck to your abdomen. The adhesive was unbearably itchy, and you had half the mind to tear them away. A huff pulled uncomfortably at you. Another huff earned you a sharp glare from the woman wrapping your hands.

Natasha was on her knees for you. Not for you, but certainly in front of you. Either way it made you blush profusely. She worked with intention, making sure that the next trial they were putting you through was safe enough for you to participate in. A tech had offered to do this for her. For you. But she’d refused.

“Stop pouting, sweetheart. This is the last one and then they’ll leave you alone for at least the weekend.”

“Promise?”

Natasha sighed and her exhale was hot against the skin on your chest, forming a valley of goosebumps. You swallowed back a shiver. “No. Now sit back.”

You did as you were told, all the while, another SHIELD tech kept a keen eye on the both of you. Nameless, faceless, dressed in black. You almost preferred them this way. Whitehall was a constant for you, a villain that always signified a form of hurt and anguish. The constant revolving door of men and women made it impossible to link a test with a face.

Natasha was almost the opposite. You were starting to associate that piney, vanilla bergamot scent of hers with safety. It scared you. Her hands were assured and so were her movements. You were very aware that she had been with you nearly all hours of the day since you’d been pulled from the wreckage of all you’d known for possible years. Stockholm syndrome, some would call it.

You approached it with reckless abandon. You didn’t care. She was warmth. She was opposite of ice baths and frigid water that you choked on until you blacked out. She was lean muscle and healed scars and tender green eyes. She made it easier to think. She gave orders that were easy to follow: To sit back. To Stop Pouting. To Get some Sleep. You could do those things. Those things were easy.

“We’ll start at a weight of fifty and steadily increase until you cannot support the bar any further.” The nameless, dark-eyed man said, not looking up from his tablet. “If at any point, you feel uncomfortable during the test, please alert me or Agent Romanoff. Do you have any questions?”

You shook your head, laid back on the cool bench and adjusted yourself until you stared up at the metal ceiling. It looked taller from this angle, impossible to reach. Black weights were saddled on either side. Agent Romanoff’s presence was at your six the entire time. Lingering, watching with careful and apt attention.

“Alright. You may begin. Make sure not to lock your arms.”

The bar was nothing in your hands, a slight nuisance, if anything. Ever-so-slowly the weight was increased: Fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty. All the way to 700 before another huff left your lungs, chin tipping towards Natasha as you stared up at her. Pouting. You were absolutely pouting.

They were being methodical about this, and that also meant it was taking ages. One of Natasha’s brows was quirked and she worried the nail of her thumb between her teeth as they upped the weight to a solid 1,000. You adjusted your hold on the bar. Nothing more, nothing less. There was no strain, no sweat. No spike in heartrate.  

“Okay. I think we know enough.” Natasha finally barked. “Right?”

“But I-“

“Right?”

Sure, it had only been a few days, but you knew that tone and it was enough for the SHIELD agent to snap his jaw shut and for you to replace the bar before sitting back up. The test, you were sure, was far from over. But there was such a finality in the demand.

You knew you had some strength to you, sure. Daniel Whitehall wouldn’t keep you locked up the way he did, in a steel-enforced cell, if that weren’t the case. The binds you’d sometimes recall were much too thick for anyone that had the normal stamina, someone who could survive his trials. You don’t remember being tested like this before, your limits pushed.

The SHIELD agent tapped at his screen, letting out a non-committal noise “Well, your strength is remarkable. You say you don’t remember a thing? I think you could benefit from some memory recovery sensory therapy.”

Natasha rumbled in the back of her throat, snatching the tablet from the man before shoving him roughly from the room. You watched the display with raised brows, the protective edge to her that you knew was there, but hadn’t been privy to at this degree. He protested, but didn’t’ overtly stop her. Not even when she slammed and locked the door with the waggle of her fingers and the lowering of the blinds.

“The know at all’s from logistics get on my nerves.”

She wouldn’t look at you, instead clicking off the screen and throwing the tablet onto the counter. There was a light blush to her cheeks. You peeled off your shirt, almost in habit now, leaving you in nothing but one of the agencies issued sports bras. The adhesive was getting too irritating.

Your eyes lingered on her. “Uh-huh, is that all?”  

“Yes, that’s all.”

But when those deep green eyes snapped up to yours, the way her breath hitched betrayed her. You’d effectively flustered the Black Widow herself and it brought a sort of heady confidence to you that you quite enjoyed. You ripped the sensor from below your ribcage away, the stickiness making an odd noise as it pulled away.

“I don’t know what you’re smirking about, what he was suggesting is out of the question. They’ve run enough tests on you to determine that Hydra didn’t place any type of chip in your brain. They didn’t change your bone density or alter your blood chemistry. With your added strength, your speed.” She closed the distance between you, ripping another sensor off with little abandon, her hands cold against your skin. “We’re looking at an infinity stone.”

You grunted under her touch, fingers soothing over the spot she’d just torn, a silent apology. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Wanda Maximoff, do you know her?”

You shook your head, remaining still as she moved to the next sensor. Agent Romanoff pulled with the same quickness as before, but was softer with her hands, instantly using the coolness of her palm to quiet the sting that soon followed. You’d given up peeling them away yourself. Instead, you peered up with her with watery eyes, blinking and doe-like. They’d melt her if you weren’t careful, and it seemed like you never were.

“Hydra conducted experiments on Wanda and her twin brother Pietro using something called the Mind Stone. A very powerful mineral that ultimately should have killed them, but it didn’t. It changed their DNA and gave them abilities. Pietro super-speed and Wanda the ability to manipulate the world around her.” Natasha’s voice was smooth as she spoke, the final sensor ripped away, you watched her do it, frowning at the red mark it left behind.

After a few moments of labored silence, she dragged her touch feather-light against your jaw and guided your attention back to her own. “They think Whitehall got ahold of the power stone, and they think it was used to torture you for years to replicate the success achieved with the Maximoff’s.”

“I don’t think he was very successful,”

Natasha’s grip tightened on your chin, not enough to wound, never enough, but a soft warning. “Nonsense. You’re more capable than you think.” Her thumb ran over the blush that was suddenly running across the bridge of your nose and your cheek. “Let’s take a break from all these boring trials. I want to show you something.”

There was a basement that resided below the cacophony of spruced up cells in the Avengers tower. You’d stood shoulder to shoulder with Agent Romanoff and watched as the numbers descended. Her scent had soothed you, even as the cold infiltrated the elevator and reminded you too much of a metal tub, safe for the water.

It jolted to a stop before the anxiety swirling in your lower belly could solidify. Natasha led you into another corridor that looked like all the other corridor’s in the tower. She walked with no urgency and you followed with the same pace. Finally, you reached another non-descript door, only accessed by the card on Agent Romanoff’s belt.

You were hit by the sharp scent of decaying paper, quiet leather and dust. There was a coolness here. A dull light that Natasha flicked on. A heaviness that reminded you of a library. There was a history here that told you it hadn’t been accessed in a long time.

Copy boxes lined bookshelves bracketed to the walls, a single table with a few chairs sat pushed in the corner. Natasha seemed to know exactly where she was going, exactly the files she was looking for. “We’re a multi-trillion-dollar organization, yet, all of the incriminating evidence about the Avengers exists in this singular room.”

You flinched, eyes meeting Natasha after she hauled the off-white box to the center of the table. You watched her carefully, not moving from your rooted spot at the edge of the doorway. You blinked at her, mouth slightly agape. She was trusting you with this. She was trusting you with this?

“Natasha you can’t… you don’t have to…”

“I want to. Come, sit.”

The chair was frigid against your skin, the whole room kept tepid to preserve the documents. Natasha sat adjacent to you, your knees brushing in a surge of warmth. Neither of you moved to pull away. She pushed the box to the far end and pulled out the first file, edging her fingers against the manila.

Before she could pry the cover back, you gripped her hand, squeezed it with fervor. “Wait, you can’t do this. Agent Romanoff, if you… if you tell me this, and I’m- if Whitehall did something that fundamentally changed me and I turn around and betray you, then I’d never be able to forgive myself.”

“Mm” She hummed, frowning down at the file. “There’s more to you than that.”

“And if there’s not? I don’t even have a name, and you’re about to trust me with everything from your past, everything you’ve worked so hard to scrub. I can’t let you do that.”

“You’re not letting me do anything, darling. I didn’t scrub anything, I embraced it.”

Her other hand engulfed the one that had covered the one that had grasped her own. You hadn’t realized that you were squeezing so hard for purchase. Goosebumps covered your entire body, and you were trying not to tremble. It felt as if your bones were trying to claw their way from your skin. You ground your teeth together to keep them from clacking.

Natasha’s hand left yours for only a moment, peeling the cover of the file back, moving it in between the both of you. “I was born in Stalingrad Russia, indoctrinated into the Red Room by a man named General Dreykov. The Red Room was a program designed to create sleeper agents utilized by the KGB. Young girls were taken against their wills and molded into perfect killing machines.”

Your thumb moved over her knuckles, scarred from years of strain. She grasped back, grounding herself.  

“For years, I was just that. Ruthless. Cruel. I spilled an impossible amount of blood because that’s what I was trained to do. It was a cycle. Wake up, kill, sleep. Wake up, kill, sleep. Sometimes they’d throw a little torture in there just to spice things up.”

You knit your eyebrows together, a small whimper escaping you.

 “Tough room.” Natasha gave you a sad smile “milaya devochka, eventually, someone saw through the dripping ledger and what Dreykov had done. They saw me. That made a world of difference when the programming I had was all I’d ever known.”

You swallowed thickly, fingers tracing a raised pink scar at the edge of her palm. You let out a shaky breath. “And you… can be that person for me?”

“I’d like to be.”

[Dt: @ima-gi--na-tion, @l0nelyish, @taliiiaasteria, @ahintofchaos, @redhoodte]

[ivy09]

I hate when I’m specifically looking for fluff and the only thing that pops up is smut

[imthebadguyyy]

Iron Hearts

With the same fire and charm that runs in the Stark bloodline, you’ve never been one to fade into the background.

pairing : steve rogers x reader fandom : mcu synopsis : As Tony Stark’s younger sister, you’ve always shared his brilliance and bold personality. Outgoing, witty, and never afraid to speak your mind, you’re just as comfortable stealing the spotlight as your brother is. But when Tony ropes you into joining the Avengers' operations after the Chitauri invasion, the last thing you expect is to clash with Captain America, Steve Rogers—a man so different from the fast-paced world you’re used to. Steve’s stoic, old-fashioned values collide with your free-spirited nature, sparking a connection that’s as electric as it is infuriating. As the Avengers face new threats, you and Steve find yourselves drawn together in unexpected ways, each challenge bringing you closer. The world is always in need of saving—but will the Iron legacy and a shielded heart leave room for something more?

EPISODE 1 : COLLIDE

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The low hum of machinery filled your private lab, a familiar and soothing backdrop to the glow of various monitors and the holographic interface suspended above your desk. You were in your element here—surrounded by sleek gadgets, circuits, and blueprints only you understood. The soft, sterile light of the fluorescent bulbs bathed everything in a cool hue, making the outside world feel distant, almost irrelevant. Your hands moved with practiced precision, making the final tweaks to your latest invention—something sleek, cutting-edge, and powerful. It was not for public eyes, least of all Tony’s. Let him bask in the glory of his Iron Man suits and his public heroism. You preferred working in the shadows, away from the spotlight. After all, the real power came from the things people didn’t see.

Just as you were about to run another test, FRIDAY’s calm, computerized voice broke the silence. “Incoming call—Tony Stark.”

You let out a small, exasperated sigh, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Of course Tony would interrupt now, just when you were getting into the groove. Without breaking your stride, you gestured toward the nearest screen, signaling FRIDAY to patch the call through.

Tony’s face flickered to life on the screen, his usual cocky grin already plastered across his face. He looked annoyingly well-rested for someone who constantly threw himself into world-saving chaos.

“Hey, sis. Got a minute?” His tone was casual, but you could see the mischievous glint in his eyes. Tony always had an ulterior motive.

“Not for you,” you shot back, though your lips twitched with a slight smile. You’d perfected the art of giving Tony a hard time over the years. “What do you need, Tony?”

“Can’t a brother call to check on his favorite sibling?” He leaned back in his chair, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning indifference. “We both know I’m your only sibling.”

“Touché,” he admitted, chuckling softly. "But seriously, I need you."

You froze momentarily, your hand hovering over the interface. Tony rarely outright asked for help, and when he did, you knew it was big. Slowly, you leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest as you gave him your full attention.

“I need my secret weapon,” Tony added, his voice dropping to that tone he used when he really wanted something.

You blinked at him, skeptical. “Secret weapon? Tony, I’m not about to be your backup tech support.”

Tony grinned, undeterred by your resistance. "This isn’t just tech support. It’s big. New team, new mission, bigger stakes. And who better to help me keep this bunch in line than you?"

You hesitated, glancing at the half-finished prototype on your desk. For years, you’d operated under the radar, happy to let Tony soak up the limelight. Being his sister came with a certain level of scrutiny you’d avoided like the plague. You preferred the quiet. The idea of stepping into the Avengers' world—especially now—seemed chaotic at best.

“I’m not suiting up, if that’s what you’re thinking,” you finally said, narrowing your eyes at him. The last thing you needed was to get dragged into one of his world-saving escapades in some shiny new armor.

“Of course not,” Tony grinned, though there was a playful glimmer in his eyes that told you he wasn’t ruling anything out entirely. “Just come to the Tower, meet the team. If you hate it, you can go back to hiding in your lab and pretending you’re not a genius like me.”

You rolled your eyes, though the thought lingered. A new team? A new mission? Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to check it out. If things went south, you could always disappear back into the shadows. But something in Tony’s tone hinted at urgency, something serious brewing on the horizon. He wasn’t just calling for fun. He needed you.

With a resigned sigh, you pushed off from the desk. “Fine. But this better not be some ploy to get me into an Iron suit.”

Tony’s smirk widened. “No promises.”

The call ended with a flicker of the screen, and you were left standing in the soft hum of your lab, the weight of Tony’s request hanging in the air. You glanced at your half-finished prototype one last time before grabbing your jacket, muttering under your breath, “What have I gotten myself into?”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Later, at Avengers Tower, you stepped into the grand lobby, the space sprawling before you like something out of a futuristic movie. Towering glass walls reflected the sunlight, creating a dazzling effect that made the entire room shimmer. High-tech displays blinked with data and notifications, while sleek metallic accents added to the modernity. It was a world apart from your cozy lab, and you couldn’t help but marvel at how Tony had truly outdone himself with this place. The grandeur was impressive, but you felt a knot tightening in your stomach, a sense of unease settling in as you stepped further inside.

Just as you took another step, a voice sliced through the air behind you, cool and assessing. “So you’re the sister Tony doesn’t like to talk about.”

You turned to face him, your heart pounding slightly at the sight of Steve Rogers, Captain America himself. He stood there, arms crossed over his chest, his muscular frame radiating authority. His expression was carefully neutral, but there was an edge to it—a mix of skepticism and something akin to wariness. He looked you up and down, his gaze critical, and you could already sense the judgment simmering beneath the surface. He thought you were just another Stark, another piece in Tony’s ego-driven game.

“And you’re the soldier out of time,” you replied, matching his coolness with your own. The words felt sharper than you intended, a defensive instinct kicking in. “Nice to meet you.”

Steve offered a tight nod, his lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t smile. “Tony’s told me a lot about you.”

“All bad, I hope,” you shot back, a hint of a smirk dancing on your lips. But Steve’s expression remained unyielding, the weight of his gaze unwavering.

“I’m not here to judge,” he stated, but his eyes bore into you, steady and measuring, as if he were trying to peel back layers of your identity with sheer will alone. “Just here to see if you’re serious.”

“Serious?” You scoffed, your heart racing with indignation. “About what?”

“About helping, about doing what’s right. We’ve got enough egos on this team.”

Your smirk faded, replaced by a flash of frustration. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know your brother.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not Tony,” you retorted, your voice sharper than you intended. The tension between you crackled in the air, palpable and thick. You hated the feeling of being judged before someone even bothered to know you, and clearly, Steve didn’t like the idea of another Stark stepping into the fold.

For a moment, silence engulfed you, and you could almost hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears. The intensity of Steve’s gaze felt like a spotlight, and you wondered if he could see through your facade, exposing the vulnerabilities you kept hidden. You could sense his protective instincts flaring, the weight of responsibility resting on his shoulders, and somehow, you felt like an outsider even though you were family.

Just as the tension threatened to spiral further, Tony strolled into the room, an air of nonchalance enveloping him. “Hey, you two! Getting along already?” His grin was impossibly wide, brightening the atmosphere even as it made the air around you feel heavier with unresolved tension.

You shot Tony a glare that could’ve cut through steel. This was not the time for his usual bravado. Steve merely shook his head, the corners of his mouth twitching in an attempt to contain a smile. “We’ll see,” he replied, his tone light but his eyes still fixed on you, as if he were weighing the likelihood of your success in this new venture. Then, with a final, assessing glance, he turned and walked off, leaving you standing there, frustration simmering just below the surface.

“Great. This is off to a fantastic start,” you muttered under your breath, a mixture of annoyance and apprehension churning inside you. The day had barely begun, and already you could feel the weight of expectation bearing down on you. As the lobby buzzed with the energy of heroes and high-tech innovation, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking a tightrope, teetering between proving yourself and succumbing to the shadows that felt all too familiar.

With a deep breath, you steeled yourself, reminding yourself that you were here to help. No matter what Steve Rogers thought, you had your own strengths, your own path to carve in this world. You just had to figure out how to make them see that.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The air in the war room was thick with tension as Tony briefed you on the mission, his voice crisp and urgent. “So here’s the deal: leftover Chitauri tech has been activated by HYDRA operatives in the city. It’s supposed to be a routine clean-up mission, but we know better than to underestimate anything HYDRA gets their hands on.” His brow furrowed, the usual playful glint in his eyes replaced by a seriousness that made your stomach knot.

You listened intently, nodding as he laid out the plan. But as he insisted you tag along—even if just to observe and assess—you felt a mix of excitement and dread. You weren’t officially part of the team, yet here you were, being dragged into the chaos by your brother’s unwavering belief in your abilities.

When you arrived at the scene, the streets were already in chaos. The sounds of sirens blared, drowning out the shouts of frantic civilians being evacuated. Smoke billowed into the air, curling around toppled cars and shattered glass. You felt a chill run down your spine as you surveyed the destruction.

Amid the chaos, Steve barked orders at the rest of the team, his authoritative voice cutting through the noise like a beacon of hope. You hung back, monitoring the situation from a mobile unit that Tony had rigged up for you—a lifeline of information in a storm of uncertainty.

“Stay behind the lines!” Steve called out to you over his shoulder, his tone firm as he and Natasha led the charge into the fray.

You rolled your eyes, a mixture of annoyance and determination bubbling inside you. "I know what I’m doing, Captain," you shot back, trying to sound more confident than you felt. The last thing you wanted was to be coddled like a helpless child.

Just as the fight erupted, the atmosphere shifted. A crackling energy surged through the air, and before you could process the threat, one of the HYDRA operatives unleashed a pulse from the Chitauri device. The wave of electricity shot toward you, a blinding flash of danger that sent adrenaline coursing through your veins.

In that split second, everything shifted. Time seemed to slow as you braced for impact, your instincts screaming at you to move, to do something—anything. But before you could react, Steve surged forward like a force of nature. He slammed his shield into the ground with a resounding thud, creating a barrier that absorbed the surge of energy before it could reach you.

You stumbled back, wide-eyed, the reality of what had just happened crashing over you like a tidal wave. Steve turned to you, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration. “I said stay behind,” he said, his voice clipped, but there was a hint of protectiveness that made your heart race.

“I had it under control,” you snapped back, though deep down, you knew that wasn’t entirely true. You felt a surge of embarrassment rising within you, the remnants of the adrenaline making you defensive.

Steve didn’t argue further, but his gaze lingered on you, his eyes searching yours as if he were trying to gauge the depths of your resolve. The moment stretched out, thick with unspoken tension, and you could sense a silent acknowledgment between you—this was new territory for both of you, a fragile thread connecting your destinies.

But as quickly as it had come, the moment shattered. With a final look that communicated both concern and determination, Steve charged back into the fray, his shield raised high as he fought against the chaos. You stood there, heart racing, grappling with a whirlwind of emotions—frustration, admiration, and a flicker of fear for what lay ahead.

With a deep breath, you refocused on the task at hand. You weren’t going to let this moment define you. You had to prove to yourself, and to Steve, that you belonged here—among heroes and legends. The fight was just beginning, and you were ready to carve your place in it.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The mission concluded in a flurry of activity and relief, but the tension between you and Steve lingered in the air like an unresolved chord. Back at the Tower, you settled in front of the computer, the glow of the screen casting an almost ethereal light across your face as you replayed footage of the battle. Each frame brought back the chaos—the electricity crackling, the screams of civilians, and Steve’s shield slamming into the ground just in time to save you. The rush of adrenaline from earlier mixed with a more unsettling feeling as you examined the moment you almost lost everything.

As you scrolled through the footage, you felt a presence behind you. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Steve; the weight of his gaze felt palpable, a steady warmth that contrasted sharply with the intensity of the battle you had just fought. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his silhouette framed by the soft light of the hallway, watching you with a quiet intensity.

“You handled yourself well out there,” he finally said, his voice low and sincere, cutting through the silence that surrounded you.

Surprised, you glanced up at him, momentarily meeting his gaze. “Thanks,” you replied, your voice a mix of pride and humility.

“But next time,” he continued, the firmness returning to his tone, “don’t make me have to save you.”

A small, teasing smile tugged at your lips, a spark of your trademark confidence flaring up in response. “Don’t worry, Captain. I won’t,” you shot back, your tone light, though beneath it was a current of seriousness.

Steve didn’t respond immediately, his expression shifting as he studied you. In his blue eyes, you caught a flicker of something deeper—perhaps a grudging respect, maybe even a hint of admiration. It made your heart flutter unexpectedly, a rush of warmth that was both thrilling and confusing. The Captain of America saw you, and for a moment, the weight of expectations from being Tony Stark's sister lifted, replaced by a connection that felt genuine.

He nodded once, a subtle acknowledgment of the moment shared between you, before turning to leave. As he walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just another fleeting exchange. You were carving out your own space in this team, proving that you were more than just Tony’s sister—you were a force to be reckoned with in your own right.

Left alone in the dim light of the lab, you turned back to the screen, but your thoughts were no longer on the footage. Instead, your mind lingered on Steve’s quiet strength, his unwavering resolve. You were beginning to understand that there was more to him than just the Captain—the man behind the shield had his own battles, his own vulnerabilities.

And you felt an undeniable pull towards him, a sense of camaraderie that was slowly transforming into something deeper. The mission had ended, but the journey was just beginning, and you were more determined than ever to prove yourself—not just to Steve, but to the entire team.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The mission had been a success, but the moment Steve saw you—Tony’s sister—standing there, he felt the weight of responsibility tugging at his heart. He knew you had potential; he’d seen you handle yourself with surprising skill, but he wasn’t prepared for how much the little spark in your eyes got under his skin.

Leaning against the doorway, he watched you replay the footage of the battle. You were focused, your brow furrowed in concentration, and it captivated him. You radiated a unique blend of confidence and determination, much like your brother, yet with a warmth that was distinctly your own.

When he finally spoke, telling you that you handled yourself well out there, he truly meant it. But as soon as the words left his mouth, he felt a mix of admiration and wariness wash over him. You were Tony’s sister—his little sister. He recalled the stories Tony had told him about your childhood, the sibling rivalry, and how fiercely protective Tony had always been of you. That instinct felt like a wall between them, even as he felt drawn to you.

“Don’t make me have to save you,” he warned, hoping to impress upon you the importance of caution. He had seen too many people underestimate their enemies, and he didn’t want you to be another victim of that recklessness.

Your response—light and teasing—pulled a small smile from him, but it was quickly overshadowed by concern. “Don’t worry, Captain. I won’t.” It was infuriating how effortlessly you seemed to deflect his concern. You had a spark that reminded him of Tony, but there was something more disarming about you. Something that made it hard for him to maintain his composure.

He nodded, more to himself than to you, before he turned to leave. He didn’t want to admit how much your presence affected him, how he found you attractive in a way that made him question everything he knew about focusing on the mission. But he also understood that getting involved with Tony’s sister could complicate things—complicate his already tangled life.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

As the days turned into weeks, you became a more permanent fixture in the Tower, and Steve couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly you blended into their chaotic team dynamic. Watching you interact with the others was eye-opening. You had Tony’s quick wit, but there was a warmth in your approach that brought out the best in everyone.

He remembered a moment during a team meeting when Clint made a joke at your expense. Without missing a beat, you shot back, “If you’re going to insult me, at least make it clever.” The room erupted in laughter, and Steve found himself chuckling along, secretly impressed by your tenacity.

But the more time he spent with you, the more he struggled with his feelings. You were intelligent, fiercely capable, and incredibly brave—qualities he admired. Yet every time he looked at you, he felt the ghost of Tony’s protective nature hovering over them. He could practically hear Tony warning him to keep his distance, reminding him that you were off-limits. It was a mental tug-of-war, and every glance between them only heightened his awareness of how close they were getting.

One evening, you both worked late in the lab. He caught you watching him as he threw punches at a training dummy, a curious smile dancing on your lips. It was a moment of connection, but it also made his heart race in a way that both thrilled and terrified him. He knew you were trouble, yet there was something about you that drew him in, like a moth to a flame.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n : so this is new series im experimenting with!! not proofread. any comments tips suggestions you have would be highly appreciated. happy reading!!

TAGS

all writing - @roslastyles420 @hopefulinlove@bluesongbird-blog

marvel -

to be added to the taglist send me an ask or a dm specifying which fandom 🩷

[mintyys-blog]

avengers x nurse! reader: Nurse Knows Best

WARNINGS: none

The Avengers were like a group of overgrown kids who happened to have superpowers, and as their designated nurse, it was your job to keep them in one piece—not that they ever made it easy for you.

You’d worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. long enough to know that most agents had a tendency to push themselves too hard, but the Avengers? They were on a whole other level. It didn’t matter if they had a broken rib, a twisted ankle, or a mild concussion; they’d brush it off like it was nothing. And every time, you were there to scold them.

The med bay was bustling after a mission gone sideways. You stood with your hands on your hips, surveying the chaos as various members of the team wandered in, clearly worse for wear.

“Okay,” you said loudly, clapping your hands to get their attention. “Everyone who’s injured, sit down and let me take a look at you. No exceptions.”

Tony Stark was the first to protest, of course. “I’m fine, Nurse Killjoy. It’s just a scratch.”

“A scratch?” You raised an eyebrow, pointing at the deep gash on his arm that was still bleeding. “Sit. Now.”

Tony rolled his eyes but obeyed, muttering under his breath about bossy nurses.

Next up was Clint, who was cradling his wrist. “I don’t need—”

“Don’t even start, Barton. Sit.”

He sighed dramatically but plopped down in the nearest chair.

Steve Rogers walked in next, limping slightly but trying to hide it. You immediately spotted the blood seeping through his suit at his side.

“Captain Rogers,” you said, narrowing your eyes.

“I’m fine,” he said automatically, his voice calm and reassuring.

“Uh-huh. And that’s why you’re leaking blood all over my floor.”

Steve looked down, as if noticing the injury for the first time. “It’s not that bad.”

“Sit down before I make you,” you said firmly, pointing to an empty bed.

His lips twitched like he wanted to argue, but he gave in, sitting with a sheepish smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

Natasha was the only one who didn’t fight you. She sat quietly on the edge of a cot, holding a cold pack to her shoulder.

“Thank you for not arguing,” you said as you passed by.

She smirked. “Why would I? You’re the only one here who scares Steve.”

“Nat!” Steve protested from his bed.

Natasha just laughed, winking at you.

Bruce Banner was next, looking drained but otherwise uninjured. You handed him a bottle of water and told him to sit and rest, which he did without complaint.

“Where’s Thor?” you asked.

Bruce sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Last I saw, he was outside arguing with some agents about carrying Mjölnir into the med bay.”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Of course he is.”

As if on cue, Thor burst through the doors, looking as proud as ever despite the torn sleeve of his armor revealing a nasty gash on his bicep. Mjölnir dangled from his hand as if it were a paperweight.

“Lady Y/N!” Thor greeted you with his usual booming enthusiasm. “Fear not, for I am unscathed!”

You raised an eyebrow, gesturing to his arm. “And what’s that?”

Thor glanced at the wound as if noticing it for the first time. “A mere trifle! This is nothing for the God of Thunder.”

“Thor, sit down before you bleed all over my med bay,” you said, pointing to an open chair.

“But—”

“Now.”

Thor blinked, clearly unused to being bossed around, but when Natasha smirked at him from her cot, he sighed dramatically and sat down. “Very well, Lady Y/N. I shall allow you to tend to this insignificant injury.”

By the time everyone was settled and you’d cleaned, stitched, or bandaged them up, you were exhausted. But that didn’t stop you from giving them your usual lecture.

“You all need to start taking better care of yourselves,” you said, crossing your arms as you stood in the middle of the room. “You’re not invincible, no matter how much you act like it.”

“Technically, I kind of am,” Tony said, waving his hand. “You know, with the suit and all.”

You shot him a glare. “Even you, Stark. You have to rest and recover like everyone else.”

“I do rest,” Tony said defensively.

“Falling asleep at your desk doesn’t count.”

Natasha chuckled quietly while Steve looked at you with an apologetic smile. “You’re right,” he said, surprising everyone by agreeing. “We’ll do better.”

“Speak for yourself,” Clint muttered, earning a sharp look from you.

“You will do better,” you said, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Once the med bay had cleared out and everyone was patched up, Steve lingered behind, watching as you cleaned up your supplies.

“You’re good at what you do,” he said, his voice warm.

You glanced at him, softening slightly. “Thanks. Someone has to keep you all alive.”

He chuckled, leaning against the counter. “We don’t make it easy, do we?”

“No, you don’t,” you said with a smile. “But I guess I can’t blame you. You’re trying to save the world, after all.”

Steve tilted his head, studying you. “Still, we owe you a lot. I don’t think we say that enough.”

Your cheeks warmed at his sincerity. “You just did, so… thank you.”

He gave you a small nod before turning to leave, but not before adding, “Don’t work too hard, Nurse Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Right back at you, Captain.”

A few days later, they were off on another mission. When they returned, battered but victorious, you were there, hands on your hips and ready to scold them all over again.

But this time, as they filed into the med bay, Steve caught your eye and gave you a sheepish smile.

“We tried to take it easy,” he said.

You sighed, shaking your head with a small laugh. “Sure you did.”

And despite their stubbornness, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride for being the one to keep this chaotic, mismatched family in one piece.

The Avengers were many things—heroes, legends, earth’s mightiest—but they were also, without a doubt, the biggest pains in your life. While you loved them (in a professional sense, you often reminded yourself), there were days when they seemed hell-bent on driving you to the brink of insanity.

It started innocently enough. You’d handed Clint an ice pack for his sprained wrist, warning him to use it and not to get into any trouble while waiting for you to finish with Tony.

Apparently, “trouble” was Clint’s middle name.

By the time you turned around, he was using the ice pack as a projectile, aiming it at Thor’s head.

“Barton!” you shouted, but it was too late.

Thor caught the ice pack midair and grinned like a child who’d just been handed a toy. “A fine game, indeed!”

Before you knew it, Thor had launched it back at Clint, narrowly missing your head in the process.

“Guys, stop—”

Steve walked in at the worst possible moment, only to get hit square in the chest by the ice pack. He froze, blinking in confusion, before turning his disapproving gaze on Clint.

“It wasn’t me!” Clint said, pointing at Thor.

“I’m ending this now!” you barked, snatching the ice pack off the floor and holding it like a grenade.

Everyone froze, the room dead silent.

“Good,” you said, your tone clipped. “Now, sit down, or I swear I’ll superglue all of you to the med bay chairs.”

Tony Stark’s caffeine addiction was well-documented. He was rarely seen without a coffee cup in hand, and he had a bad habit of wandering into your office to steal your coffee whenever his ran out.

You’d warned him repeatedly. But today was the day you finally snapped.

“Tony, I swear to everything holy, if you take my coffee one more time—”

“I’m not taking it,” Tony interrupted, already mid-sip.

You glared at him, debating whether it was worth the potential HR complaint to tackle him. “That’s literally my mug, Stark.”

“Is it, though?” he quipped, holding it up to inspect the “World’s Okayest Nurse” lettering you’d bought as a joke.

“Yes, it is!”

Natasha strolled in, took one look at your murderous expression, and immediately turned on her heel. “Nope. Not my problem.”

Later that day, you found a brand-new espresso machine in your office with a note that read, “Bribes work, right? - T”

You should’ve known better than to challenge Thor, but you were running on two hours of sleep, and logic had abandoned you.

“Thor, please stop leaving Mjölnir on the exam tables,” you said for the third time that day. “I can’t move it, and I’m not calling you every five minutes to come and get it.”

“It is perfectly safe where it lies,” Thor said proudly, arms crossed.

“It’s not safe for me,” you shot back. “I’m not worthy, remember?”

Thor grinned. “Perhaps you underestimate yourself, Lady Y/N. You should try lifting it.”

Your eye twitched. “Thor, I don’t have time for this.”

He ignored you, stepping back and gesturing dramatically. “Go on. Prove yourself worthy.”

With a deep sigh, you grabbed the handle and pulled with all your might. Nothing happened, of course.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, grabbing a clipboard and swatting his arm with it.

Thor just laughed, retrieving Mjölnir like it weighed nothing and promising, “I shall endeavor to do better.”

He didn’t.

Bucky had a habit of sneaking up on people, but today, he outdid himself.

You were focused on updating patient files when a voice spoke from directly behind you:

“Whatcha doing?”

You screamed loud enough to send papers flying everywhere.

“BUCKY!”

“Sorry,” he said, though he didn’t sound remotely sorry. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Like hell you didn’t!” you snapped, clutching your chest. “Do you even know how jumpy I am?”

“Natasha bet me ten bucks I couldn’t make you scream,” he admitted with a shrug.

From the hallway, Natasha’s voice called out, “Worth every penny!”

The final straw came when you found Steve Rogers—America’s golden boy—eating chocolate pudding out of a biohazard container in the lab.

“Steve. What are you doing?” you asked, your voice unnervingly calm.

He froze, spoon halfway to his mouth. “Uh… eating pudding?”

“In a biohazard container?”

Steve frowned, staring at the container like it had betrayed him. “It was in the fridge. I thought it was clean.”

You closed your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Steve, that’s for medical samples. It literally says ‘Biohazard’ on the side.”

He looked so horrified and embarrassed that you almost felt bad for yelling at him. Almost.

“I… should probably stop eating this,” he said quietly, setting the container down.

“Ya think?” you muttered.

By the end of the week, you were exhausted. You collapsed into your chair in the break room, head in your hands, wondering how you were still sane.

Natasha walked in, holding a cup of coffee. She placed it in front of you without a word.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, sipping it gratefully.

“Don’t let them get to you,” she said with a smirk. “They’re idiots, but they’re our idiots.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “That’s the only reason I haven’t quit yet.”

From the hallway, you heard Tony shout, “Who used my arc reactor as a paperweight?”

You groaned, already bracing yourself for the next round of chaos.

[writersblockedx]

Wedded Under War

You can now read Part Two Here

Pairing - Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, slight Bestfriend!Steve Rodgers x Reader Summary - New York is plagued by a war between the White Wolves and SHIELD. Your older brother comes up with a solution: Wed you to their leader, Bucky Barnes. Warnings - Violence, arranged marriage Words - 2K

Masterlist

The first time you met James Buchanan Barnes, it was tainted in blood. It was a plan, to gather information without the man having any idea what he was doing, nor who he was talking to. Steve Rodgers and your older brother, Tony, had hatched the plan when you just turned twenty-one. For you to waltz in there, flirt enough and get him drunk enough that his tongue would slip. It should have been easy. In and out without the need for violence. Something so sparse in your line of work.

Natasha had picked out a dress for you. One that matched the formality of your old prom dress. Silk and tight, with barely any room for you to breathe. Tucked underneath, in case of emergency, were your weapons: A pistol, and a couple of knives. "Just in case." Natasha had assured as she strapped the last switchblade around your ankle.

And like that, you slipped out from the van where Steve and Natasha would be monitoring you. Flashing some fake confidence as you wandered towards a cocktail bar you had never stepped foot in before. It was for the rich kids of New York. The trust fund babies, the future lawyers and, most importantly, Bucky Barnes' favourite spot after a long week of causing havoc.

You ignored the rest of the crowd, heading towards the marble bar where you ordered a martini for the nerves. You cared little for what you were doing, your intention more than anything was to impress your brother in hopes of gaining more involvement with the job. If that meant looking pretty and flirting aimlessly with Bucky Barnes then so be it.

The moment your lips hit the drink, your eyes finally scanned the room. You gazed across the drunken Ivy League types who were trying to impress people with their knowledge of the stock market. It didn't take long to find the man who didn't fit with the rest of the crowd: nestled in the corner, in a leather booth seated the leader of the White Wolves. He wore a clean shirt and blazer, ensuring you could still see his bulging biceps through the material. 

Within seconds, his eyes finally caught your obvious flirty gaze. It was a silent invitation for him to come over and join you. He was desperate, hungry from the get-go. He whispered something in his right man's ear before standing and waltzing over to you like he owned the place - which he probably actually did. "What are you drinking?" He questioned, smoothly.

You forced a smirk to your lips, "Why?" Your head tilted. "You buying?"

"Only if you say please." Had he been any other man, had this not been the job, you might have smacked him there and then.

Instead, you kept your expression stable and said, "I'll have a martini, please."

He nodded and returned his attention to the bartender, "An old fashioned and a martini." He requested. When the bartender had his back turned, Bucky gazed back at the pretty thing of interest. "I've never seen you here before."

"I'm meeting a friend." You lied before staring down at your watch. "At least I'm meant to be, they're late."

"Well, if you don't mind, I can keep you company." He didn't wait for your answer before slipping into the bar stool beside you.

"Of course, I don't."

Two drinks landed in front of you. Bucky thanked the man and tipped him ten times the amount any normal person would. But Bucky Barnes wasn't just anyone. He was rich with dirty money and had half of New York at his beck and call. "Cheers," He raised his glass, clinking it with your own.

Your brother always taught you to be careful around your drinks. He showed you how easy the enemies of the job could slip something in, to take advantage. And that worry laid heavy on your mind as you watched Bucky take his first sip. You barely let your lips touch the glass before placing it back on the bar. "So what do I call you?"

Another thing Tony had taught you was to never give your real name. "Natalie." Was the first thing you thought of; the same alias Natasha used. "And you?"

Bucky wasn't quite as smart. Or maybe he was just egotistical and liked the idea of the pretty girl calling his name. "Bucky." He nodded.

Your eyes flickered back over to his men who were still situated in the booth, throwing back neat whisky like it went down the same as water. They wouldn't be able to do much in that state. "You sure your friends don't mind you spending your time over here with me?" You queried.

Bucky smiled at the thought, "Please, they're too busy fighting over what gun has the best range." You doubted that was a lie. Maybe most other girls would have thought so, some maybe even laughed, but not you. "We can always join them if you'd like."

At that, you jumped, your hand practically crawling at his forearm for him to stay. "No," You spoke, almost too stern. "I like being here." You plastered that smirk back onto your face.

Bucky sank into his seat, not hiding the way his eyes followed your nails toward your body in that dress. "Good," He whispered.

You slowly let your hand slide away from his skin, "So what is that you do? Other than argue over other weapons?" You let the conversation change to something you might be able to get information on.

"Business."

"A bit vague, isn't it?" You jabbed for him to speak more. But, the best way to do that, was to put him at ease. For him to be far more interested in something else other than what he was saying. So your hand returned to his forearm, gently caressing against his skin. "I mean, you look like you must do something important." You smiled his way, not letting your eyes drop from his body.

"Importing." He finally answered and you realised you were getting somewhere.

So you let your hand slowly drag down his biceps which, while any other girl might have found hot, you were already calculating how hard his punch would hit against your face. "Hm, and what is it you import?" You questioned.

To your expectation, he was watching your movement carefully, a smirk plastered at his lips. "You ask a lot of questions."

You shrugged, moving your hand further and further down till it reached his finger tips, grazing across them. "You seem like an interesting man." You muttered.

"Maybe I want to know about you." He returned, leaning forward enough to put a hand to your thigh. But rather than finding your skin, his fingers hit something hard and metallic. The very weapon you had there, just in case. Your hand fell from his entirely, feeling his body tense at the touch of betrayal. You didn't move. "You should have known better than to come into my bar, in my city, with a silly little weapon like that." 

He was still. The man made no move for his own weapon that you were certain he was hiding under his blazer jacket. So, instead, you moved first. Your hand reached out, gripping at his brunette locks before forcing his head onto the marble bar side. A clash sounded at the impact. Enough to alert the rest of the customers who started screeching for help.

You rushed backwards, hand gripping at the gun that had outed you. Bucky stood from the bar stool, his hand wiping away at the blood which dripped from his forehead. Anger seethed in his pupils. Enough to make you search for cover as you caught the way his hand reached into his jacket pocket as you expected. "Move!" You ordered a group of college students.

Bullets whipped passed your head as you watched the rest of Bucky's men join in. Luckily, all the neat whiskeys had made their aim lazy. In the nick of time, you threw a table over onto its side and you covered your body against it, feeling every bullet which hit the wooden surface. The only thing protecting you from life and death.

Your hand pressed against the earpiece Natasha had given you, "Hey, you guys hearing this?"

"What the hell did you do?" The woman chimed in first as you leaned slightly over the top of the table to get a shot. One of which you assumed you missed as the bullets continued.

"Are you okay?" Asked Steve.

"Just one of you get in here please!" You begged.

You didn't understand the reply, but you liked to assume one of your friends were on their way. By now, most of the other customers had rushed out from the bar, the staff hidden in the back as the firing continued until the men started to run out of bullets. Despite their array of weapons, they weren't prepared for one girl to ruin their Friday night drinks. So without any extra ammo, they were left with one option: hand-to-hand combat.

When the firing stopped, your head looked above the wood once again, watching as Rumlow handed Barnes one of his daggers. You stood, kicking the table back in the way of Barnes. You raised your gun, an easy shot if you dared to take it. "You, silly little girl." Bucky spat.

Your head tilted at him and the rest of the men who had no way of hurting her anymore. Not when she was the only one with any ammo left. "Really? Looks to me that I'm the one with the upper hand." You pointed out.

The front door to the bar swung open. Out of instinct, they each held up their guns, without the ability to shoot at the red-headed Russian. "Let's go!" She ordered.

You gave Bucky one last victory glance before running back over to Natasha and exiting the bar unscathed. It had certainly been one way to welcome you to the job. 

---

"This has got to be a fucking joke?"

The stern expressions that faced you suggested they were all in fact serious. After years of war and bloodshed, this was their only solution for peace. "You want me- me to marry Barnes? That's-" You laughed at the idea of a domestic life alongside Bucky Barnes. It was such a stupid idea, you seriously couldn't imagine it. "That's obscene."

"It's tactical." Natasha offered.

To which, you gazed over at her as she stood beside the desk where Tony sat. His office was always filled by henchmen and paperwork. "Why aren't you the one marrying him then? Why do I get the short straw?"

"Because I'm not a Stark." She made a good point; a Stark marrying a Barnes would be more of a statement. The two names which battled over New York coming together through a marriage.

"It's the only way to keep everyone safe." Tony reasoned, making your eyes roll.

You scoffed, "Safe? Are you kidding me?" You couldn't image anything more dangerous than sleeping beside Bucky Barnes. "I would rather have that man stab me through the heart than put a flashy ring on his finger and call him mine!"

Steve, who had been quiet ever since the news dropped, finally met your eyes. "You don't have a choice."

Your breath fell hot when it left your tongue. These people, your family, your closest friends, suddenly taking control of your life for the sake of business. With no thought on how you would take it. Even now, despite your obvious distaste for the idea, they were pushing it. So it should have been expected when you faced the blonde man only to raise your hand, letting a slap fall firm against his cheek. 

You hated the sting on your palm as you faced Steve's huff as he settled in the pain. But maybe it was deserved. To have been used for years to do nothing but the small jobs, arranging staff, but never being at the forefront of the job. Suddenly, they were throwing you in the deep end. The worse of the worse: to marry Bucky Barnes. You left them with one thought, "I won't do it."

[florabellalove]

LET ME SPEAK MY TRUTH 🦢🫶🏼

sometimes I just want to read a reverse comfort fic about some big burly character absolutely breaking down, call it a saviour kink or whatever but there seems to be an absence in this world

[angelremnants]

American Wedding | S. Rogers

summary : Steve Rogers is throwing himself into mission after mission, trying to outrun the weight of his past—his unresolved feelings for Sharon and the lingering memories of Peggy. But when his commanding officers force him to take a break, Steve ends up on a staycation in Barbados. What begins as a forced respite soon becomes a much-needed escape as he unexpectedly finds healing, peace, and even a connection in the warmth of the Caribbean sun. Steve learns to let go of the past and finally breathe again, even if it’s just for a short while. Inspired by American Wedding (unreleased) by Frank Ocean.

pairing : Steve Rogers x f!reader

warnings : Fluff to angst, imposed traits on the reader such as an origin, emotional healing, mention of past relationships, themes of healing and self-discovery, themes of arranged marriages and family pressure, mentions of emotional and familial abuse, a bit of hurt/comfort, bittersweet ending, mentions of past trauma, mild language. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 12.1k

author's notes : I don't know what's wrong with me and writing long fics with major angst. I think I might have a problem.

If you're still as hooked in the MCU fandom as I am, then it shouldn't be a surprise for you that I stumbled upon the infamous Steve edit on American Wedding. Steve was my first little crush when I started getting into the MCU; he might not be my number one anymore, but I couldn't help but be mesmerized by the work and how well it could somehow fit the vibe of our golden boy.

Side note, I chose Barbados just because I love Rihanna (plus, the country is as gorgeous as she is). I tried to respect the culture as much as I could, but please do let me know if something is amiss. Anyways, here's my take on what this song could mean if associated with America's Ass greatest soldier.

(ao3 version)

The mission was over.

Steve Rogers had traded his usual Captain America tight suit for average civilian clothes and now stood just outside a bustling café in Bridgetown, the late afternoon sun casting a golden hue over the vibrant streets of Barbados. He should’ve been relieved. The intel was secured, the rogue operation dismantled, and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were already working to extract the rest of the loose ends. But instead, Steve felt a familiar weight settle on his shoulders, one he couldn’t quite shake.

The air was heavy with the scent of fried fish and spices, and the sound of calypso music drifted from a nearby street performer. Locals walked by, some glancing curiously at the tall, broad-shouldered man who looked distinctly out of place. Steve’s fingers hovered over his phone, debating whether to call in and request another assignment.

Then, his phone buzzed in his hand, and the name Tony Stark lit up the screen.

Steve answered with a sigh, already bracing himself. “Stark.”

“Capsicle! How’s my favorite star-spangled soldier doing?” Tony’s voice was chipper, the sound of clinking glasses and faint jazz music in the background.

“I’m fine,” Steve replied, scanning the street as though someone might overhear. “Why are you calling?”

“Well, it’s not to remind you to update your playlist based on what I’m hearing in the background—though, seriously, we need to talk about that at some point.” Tony didn’t wait for a response. “No, I’m calling to let you know that for the first time in, oh, forever, we’re at a lull. No alien invasions. No rogue A.I.s. No infinity stones threatening to wipe out half the universe. You know what that means?”

Steve frowned. “That it’s time to prepare for the next crisis?”

Tony let out a dramatic groan. “And people say I’m the workaholic. No, Cap. It means you get a break.”

Steve rolled his eyes, leaning against the café’s wooden railing. “I don’t need a break, Tony. There’s always something that needs to be done—”

“Yeah, no. I’m gonna stop you right there.” Tony’s voice turned pointed, though there was still a hint of his trademark sarcasm. “I talked to Fury, and even he thinks you’ve been overdoing it. And considering the guy’s idea of a vacation involves a bunker and a bottle of bourbon, that’s saying something.”

“I’m fine,” Steve insisted, his tone tightening.

“Fine? Really? I mean, do you even know what day it is? Look, pretty much everyone’s off the grid—Sam, Natasha, even Clint’s in retirement mode. And I’m finally getting around to that honeymoon thing with Pepper because, you know, saving the world isn’t as good for a marriage as you’d think. So you? You need to chill.”

“Tony, I’m fine,” Steve had insisted, though even he didn’t sound convincing.

“Yeah, sure. That’s why you’ve been taking back-to-back missions for the past three months. What’s next? Fighting a volcano?”

Steve opened his mouth to respond, then realized he didn’t.

Tony took his silence as confirmation. “Listen, you’re not a machine, Cap. Even super-soldiers need to decompress. Which is why I, in all my infinite wisdom, am forcing you to take some time off.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tony—”

“Ah-ah! No arguments. Fury’s covering part of the bill, and I’m picking up the rest because I’m such a generous friend. You pick the place—anywhere in the world—and I’ll make it happen. You’re welcome.”

Steve glanced around, his eyes lingering on the vibrant life of the island. The azure waters sparkled in the distance, and the rhythmic sway of the palm trees seemed to beckon him. He hadn’t allowed himself a moment to breathe in months, maybe years.

“I don’t know,” Steve said slowly.

Tony groaned again, louder this time. “Come on, Cap. It’s not like I’m asking you to take a yoga class in Malibu. Though, honestly, you’d kill it in downward dog. No, I’m telling you to pick a nice spot, kick back, and—God forbid—relax for once in your life.”

“Tony—”

“Let me paint you a picture,” Tony interrupted, his tone turning theatrical. “A beachfront villa. Sunsets so pretty they’ll make you cry. Maybe a fruity drink with one of those little umbrellas—wait, scratch that, you’re more of a ‘beer and brooding’ guy. The point is, take the damn vacation, Steve. Doctor’s orders.”

Steve sighed, looking out the window of the outpost at the vibrant streets of Bridgetown. “I’ll stay here,” he said finally. “Barbados seems… peaceful.”

“Atta boy!” Tony cheered. “I’ll wire the funds. And hey, if you don’t send me at least one picture of you in a Hawaiian shirt, I’m gonna be very disappointed.”

Steve couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, Tony.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously, don’t. I have a reputation to maintain.”

The line went dead, leaving Steve alone with the sounds of the island.

⠀⠀

The first few days in Barbados passed in a blur of quiet solitude. Steve spent most of his time walking along the beach or sitting on the villa’s small porch, nursing a cold drink while the sun dipped below the horizon. For someone used to the constant hum of battlefields, strategy meetings, and high-stakes missions, the stillness was almost unnerving.

But it wasn’t just the quiet that unsettled him—it was the thoughts he’d been pushing aside for months. Thoughts of Sharon.

He’d tried not to dwell on their break-up, but here, surrounded by the warmth and beauty of the island, the memories crept in uninvited. Their relationship had ended just weeks ago, though the cracks had been there for far longer. She had been kind, understanding, and steadfast—everything Steve thought he should want. But every time he looked at her, a small, nagging voice whispered the truth he didn’t want to face.

She was Peggy’s niece.

No matter how much he tried to compartmentalize it, the connection was impossible to ignore. Every time Sharon smiled, there was a flicker of something familiar—her determination, her poise, even the way she carried herself. It wasn’t fair to either of them, but Steve couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been chasing a shadow of the past. Sharon deserved more than that, and so did he.

When they’d finally called it quits, Sharon had been the one to speak the words he couldn’t bring himself to say.

“You’re still carrying her with you, Steve,” she’d said, her voice calm but heavy with resignation. “And maybe you always will. But I can’t be her for you. I don’t want to be.”

The guilt had followed him ever since. Sharon had been right. For all the years that had passed, Peggy still lingered in the corners of his mind—her voice, her laugh, the way she’d believed in him when no one else did. He hadn’t just been grieving Sharon’s absence; he was grieving Peggy all over again.

By the third day, Steve found himself wandering into a bustling part of Bridgetown, hoping the sights and sounds of the island might distract him. The streets were alive with energy—locals bartering at colorful market stalls, tourists snapping photos of historic buildings, and the rhythmic beat of soca music weaving through it all.

“Yuh lookin’ lost, boss,” a young man called out from behind a coconut cart. He was grinning, a machete in hand as he expertly cracked open a coconut.

Steve glanced back at him. “Just exploring.” 

“Ah, well, yuh gotta try dis,” the man said, handing him a freshly cut coconut. “Yuh look like yuh could use a lil’ taste of Bajan life. Fresh coconut water! Or yuh scared of a lil’ machete work?”

Steve smirked politely but didn’t respond, unsure if he was being teased or seriously invited. Before he could decide, you appeared, carrying a basket of fruits and shaking your head with a laugh.

“Jamal, stop tormenting de tourists!” you scolded lightheartedly. “Poor man just tryna enjoy ‘e day without you harassing him.”

Jamal shrugged with a grin, chopping open another coconut. “Ah, just showin’ him how we do it here, yuh know? He look like he need it.”

You turned to Steve, flashing a warm smile. “Ignore him, he does this to everyone. But,” you added, your tone playful, “he’s not wrong. Coconut water will fix whatever ails you. You should try one.”

Steve chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing. “If you say so,” he said, stepping closer.

You nodded approvingly as Jamal handed him the coconut. “See? That wasn’t so hard,” you teased.

Taking a sip, Steve found the cool water surprisingly refreshing. “This is good,” he admitted, glancing at you.

“Good?” you repeated with mock offense. “It’s de best on de island. You’ve got a lot to learn.”

Steve smiled, feeling more at ease than he had in days. “Guess I’ll need a guide, then,” he said, the words slipping out before he could overthink them.

You tilted your head, amusement sparkling in your eyes. “Lucky for you, I know everyone ‘round here. Stick with me, Captain America, and I’ll show you the real Barbados.”

He blinked, surprised you knew who he was.

“Relax,” you said with a wink. “We don’t make a big deal of celebrities' ‘round here. Besides, the way I see it, everybody needs a break—even heroes.”

He guessed he really did well in choosing his destination. 

Steve walked beside you through the busy streets, his coconut still in hand. The initial awkwardness of being recognized faded quickly as you carried the conversation effortlessly, your teasing making him smile more than he had in weeks.

“So, Captain America,” you said, throwing a glance over your shoulder with a grin. “What’s a hero like you doin’ walking ‘round alone in Barbados? Not enough trouble to save us from?”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Actually, I’m here because I was told to take a break. Guess I've been working a little too hard lately.”

“Working too hard? You? Never would’ve guessed,” you teased, your tone playful.

Steve shook his head, grinning. “What about you? You seem to know everyone here.”

“I do. Born and raised. And the people here? They’re my family—even Jamal, with his coconut antics,” you said with a laugh. “You stick wit’ me, and I’ll teach you all de secrets of the island.”

“Secrets, huh?” Steve said, his tone tinged with curiosity. “What kind of secrets?”

You stopped suddenly and gestured toward a small, colorful shack by the road. “For starters, the best fish cutters on the island are right here. Come, you can’t visit Barbados and not try one.”

Steve followed you to the shack, where an older man greeted you like an old friend. As you chatted easily with him, ordering food, Steve found himself watching you with a kind of quiet admiration. You were easygoing, quick to laugh, and had a warmth about you that was magnetic.

When the fish cutters arrived, you handed one to Steve. “Here. And don’t even think of saying it’s just ‘good.’ Dis is heaven in bread.”

He took a bite, his eyes widening. “Wow. Okay, you’re right—this is incredible.”

You smirked. “Told you. The locals always know best.”

As the two of you walked along the beach, the conversation grew more personal. You asked about his life back home, and he answered honestly, even about the heartbreak he was still trying to shake.

“So, this Sharon,” you said carefully, “she’s Peggy’s niece?”

Steve nodded, looking sheepish. “Yeah. It’s… complicated.”

“You think?” you teased gently, bumping your shoulder against his. “Sounds messy. But you know what? Sometimes you just need to let go of what’s complicated and hold on to what’s simple.”

“And what’s simple?” Steve asked, curious.

You stopped walking and turned to face him, your expression soft but playful. “This,” you said, gesturing to the ocean. “Good food, good company, and a little bit of adventure.” He smiled, the sincerity in your voice hitting him in a way he didn’t expect. “I think I’m starting to see your point.”

⠀⠀

Over the next few days, you made good on your promise to show Steve the best of Barbados. True to your word, you showed Steve places that weren’t in any guidebook, sharing bits of history and culture along the way.

“This,” you said one morning, gesturing to a vibrant, bustling market, “is where you get the freshest fruit on the island. And where you learn to bargain.”

Steve watched in awe as you haggled with a vendor, the two of you laughing and bantering in a mix of Bajan dialect and English. When you returned with a bag of mangos and papayas, he raised a brow.

“You just got all that for half the price,” he said.

“Yup,” you said with a grin, popping a slice of mango into your mouth. “You're lucky you've got me, Captain. Otherwise, they’d have charged you double for being a tourist.”

“Good thing I’ve got you,” he said, his tone warm.

Later, you took him to a rum distillery, where you explained the process of making Barbados’ world-famous rum, teasing him as he tried a sample and coughed slightly at the burn.

“That strong for you, Cap?”

“Not strong enough to knock me out,” he replied, his voice laced with humor.

You then took him to the lively Oistins Fish Fry, where he tried grilled marlin and danced awkwardly but earnestly to soca music. You dragged him to Harrison’s Cave, laughing as he marveled at the limestone formations.

“You look like a kid seeing snow for de first time,” you teased.

“I’ve been frozen in snow for seventy years,” he replied, deadpan.

You burst out laughing, and even he cracked a smile at his own joke.

One afternoon, you led him on a hike up to Cherry Tree Hill, where the view of the rolling hills and turquoise ocean was breathtaking. As you stood beside him, the wind tugging at your dress, you glanced at him with a smile.

“You're not bad company, you know,” you said.

“Neither are you,” he replied, the corner of his mouth lifting in that signature half-smile.

“You keep looking at me like that, and I might think you’re sweet on me, Captain.”

Steve’s cheeks flushed faintly, but he held your gaze. “And what if I am?”

Your eyebrows shot up, surprised but delighted. “Well, then,” you said, stepping closer, “I hope you know you’re in for one hell of a ride.”

As the two of you strolled along a quieter path near the beach, the sunlight danced through the palm trees, and Steve couldn’t help but feel a sense of calm he hadn’t experienced in months. He looked over at you, smiling at how animatedly you were explaining the significance of the bright kites dotting the sky—something about “kite season” and friendly neighborhood competitions.

“You know,” Steve said after a moment, “your accent isn’t quite like everyone else’s around here. It’s still got that lilt, but… it’s different.”

You glanced at him, a little surprised. “You noticed that, huh?”

He nodded. “I guess I’ve got an ear for detail. What’s the story there?”

You smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “Well, I went abroad for a few years—took my undergrad in the U.S. and just came back home recently.”

“Really?” Steve asked, intrigued. “What’d you study?”

As you walked beside Steve, your voice became more animated as you shared the kind of work you had done during your studies. “Well, when I was in the States for my undergrad, I did my thesis on cultural practices, specifically exploring the dynamics between traditional marriage structures and modern society.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Really? That sounds… complex. What kind of structures?”

“Yuh know, I looked into things like arranged marriages and how they vary across different cultures,” you explained, eyes sparkling with passion. “One part of my research focused on Islamic marriage traditions, particularly around the roles of brides and how modern perspectives are influencing those practices. It wasn’t about judging or anything, just trying to understand how people make it work, despite some of the harsh stereotypes.”

“Wow,” Steve said thoughtfully, clearly impressed. “Sounds like you dove deep into it. You didn’t go for the easy topics, huh?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “No, not really. I wanted to tackle something meaningful. And, for me, it was important to explore how even with things like hijabs or polygamy, those traditions have layers, especially when it comes to women’s agency. It’s all about perspective.”

Steve nodded, clearly fascinated by your work. “It’s amazing how much you can learn when you dig into a topic. I guess that’s why you came back here, huh? To work on making a difference in your community.”

You smiled softly, thinking back on your time abroad. “Yeah. I learned a lot, but I always knew I’d come home. There’s so much to do here, and I want to make sure we’re not losing our identity as we modernize. Barbados is home, and I want to help make sure it stays that way.”

You laughed at the thought, shrugging. “Guess it’s de island girl in me. This place is part of who I am. But,” you added with a sheepish grin, “spendin’ so much time abroad, I guess I picked up a bit of de American accent. It slips in sometimes when I talk.”

“I think it’s kind of charming,” Steve said, surprising even himself with the comment.

You raised a brow at him, a slow smile spreading across your lips. “Careful, Captain, or I might think you’re tryin’ to sweet-talk me.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish but amused. “Maybe I am.”

Your laugh rang out, light and melodic. “Well, you’re not too bad at it.”

At one point, while they were sitting on a beachside bench, a gentle breeze tugging at their clothes, Steve caught her eye, and she smiled. That smile. He swore it was the brightest thing in the world, even more stunning than the sun hanging low in the sky behind her.

The conversation continued, with Steve steering it back toward you. He asked about your time abroad, what it was like living away from home, and what made you choose environmental science in the first place.

“And what about you?” you countered, tilting your head as you studied him. “You’ve been saving the world for what—over a century now?”

He chuckled. “Not quite that long, but close.”

“Doesn’t seem like you’re slowin’ down anytime soon,” you said, your voice softer now. “But, Steve… don’t you ever just want to stop for a bit? Live a little for yourself?”

Your question caught him off guard. For a moment, he was quiet, the only sounds around you were the gentle crash of waves and the rustle of the wind in the trees.

“I guess I don’t know how to do that,” he admitted.

As you sat on the beach watching the sun dip below the horizon, you turned to Steve with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“So,” you began, “how do you feel about weddings?”

He looked at you warily. “Weddings?”

“Yeah. My… um, distant relative—you probably need a map to figure out how we’re related—is getting married this weekend. It’s a small thing,” you said, “But it’s a family event. You know how it is—everyone wants to show up and make it ‘extra’ for the aunties.”

Steve chuckled. “I’m guessing it’s not going to be your average wedding then?”

“Oh, no,” you grinned, “Think small chapel, a few too many drinks, maybe a bit of dancing, and a lot of awkward family members trying to act like they haven’t been feuding for the past ten years. But, you know, in the best way possible.”

Steve found himself laughing along with you, the ease between you two growing stronger by the minute.

“Actually,” you said with a mischievous grin, “It’s going to be kind of hilarious. I was thinking…” You paused, glancing over at him. “You wanna come with me? As my… plus one?”

Steve blinked in surprise, but there was something about the way you said it, as if you didn’t mind the idea of being together at such a personal family event. “I mean, are you sure? I’m probably not what your family had in mind when they thought ‘plus one,’” he joked, a smile tugging at his lips.

You shrugged, the motion casual, but your gaze was intense. “Honestly, I don’t think anyone really knows what they’re getting when they invite me. And trust me, you’ll be far more interesting than the rest of my relatives.” You glanced at him sideways with a grin. “Besides, maybe they’ll like you more than me.”

“Are you trying to get me to go to your wedding as an act of charity?” he teased.

You laughed. “No, I’m offering you a chance to be part of something completely ridiculous, and trust me, you’ll be talking about it for years.”

“Well, in that case,” Steve said, pretending to think it over, “I guess I’ll be there. But you’ve got to warn me beforehand if there’s any kind of dancing involved. I’m not exactly a pro.”

Your grin widened. “Deal.”

⠀⠀

You had parted your ways when it was well into the night, and soon enough, Steve found himself back in his quaint hotel room, listening to the peaceful waves of the ocean. He laid on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind drifting back to the hours he’d spent with you earlier.

He couldn’t help but replay the way you looked again and again in his mind. The first thing that struck him was how effortlessly beautiful you were. Your skin had looked golden when it caught the sunlight, in a way that made everything around you seem brighter, like you were glowing from within. Your hair had framed your face in soft waves, a contrast to your sun-kissed skin that made you seem like you belonged to the island itself. It hadn’t just been the way you looked, though; it had been the way you carried yourself. You had moved with such ease, like you were perfectly in tune with the world around you, as though every step was measured but never forced.

Your eyes—those eyes—were a shade that had seemed almost impossible, warm and deep, with a spark that made it clear you were fully present, fully alive in every conversation. When you spoke, it had been with an accent that was distinctly Barbadian, but there was a softness to it, a hint of something else—like you’d been somewhere far from home and had returned with more layers than when you left. Your smile had been what had undone him, though. It hadn’t just been the way it lit up your face, but the way it had made him feel like he was the only one in the world you were focusing on, even if it had been just for a moment.

And it hadn’t just been your looks—Steve knew he hadn’t felt this way about someone in years, the way his heart had seemed to skip when you caught his gaze, the way the mere thought of you had made him feel like a teenager again, nervous and unsure but eager all the same. The more he thought about you, the more the feeling had intensified, like a slow burn in his chest. He had tried to push it down, telling himself it had just been the heat, just the newness of it all, but deep down, he had known it wasn’t that simple. He had found something in you, something that had made the weight of everything else just… fade away.

The way you had laughed, your smile so effortless, like you were a living embodiment of the sun that bathed the island in warmth. There had been something about you that had made his chest tighten—something magnetic, yet disarmingly genuine. He had expected a brief distraction on this trip, maybe a drink with a stranger. Instead, you had effortlessly captivated him. Your energy had been infectious, and even in the quiet moments, you had a way of drawing him in. The little quirks of your accent, the way you’d pause mid-sentence to correct yourself, as if speaking a second language you hadn’t used in too long—there had been a vulnerability in it that had made you all the more endearing.

And then there had been the tattoo. That damn tattoo. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. He had barely even paid attention to it at first, but after spending hours with you, it had stood out more, like a proud branding. A temporary tattoo you had convinced him to get while you were strolling around. It had been a simple design, a swirling wave pattern across his left hand, something that had matched the feeling of freedom he’d had with you that day. He had looked down at his hand now, the ink still vivid, but with a hint of purple-ish blue where it was starting to fade. You had laughed when he’d rolled up his sleeve to show you, clearly impressed by how well it had suited him. He had never thought he’d have fun getting a tattoo, temporary or not, but the experience had been entirely different with you. Everything had felt light, effortless, fun.

As his mind had wandered further, Steve had found himself imagining something he hadn’t thought about in a long time: the future. The thought of you in a wedding gown, walking down the aisle toward him, had made his heart race. He couldn’t help but picture it, absurdly vivid—you, laughing under the lights, your eyes sparkling as you smiled at him in that way only you could. He’d be there, in a tux, grinning like a fool, probably fumbling over his vows. He could almost hear the judge’s voice, telling them to kiss, and there you’d be—his wife, laughing with him as you made it official in a courthouse with nothing but your hearts and a rush of love propelling you forward. The thought had made him shake his head in surprise, crimson adorning his cheeks. It had been ridiculous, yet it had felt so very real. He had been falling for you in ways he never thought possible.

He had tried to focus on other things—his next move, the mission he had just completed—but as much as he had tried, the tattoo had kept pulling his attention back to you. It hadn’t just been the design; it had been the way it had been something shared between you. A small, playful gesture, but one that had made the whole day feel… connected. He had smiled to himself, the thought of you making his heart race again. He had shifted uncomfortably under the covers, trying to shake off the sudden rush of warmth that had pooled in his stomach.

But as much as he had tried to focus on other things, your laugh had kept echoing in his mind, and the image of you running after his vehicle earlier that day had kept replaying, like something out of a dream he didn’t want to wake from. It had been a feeling he hadn’t realized he’d missed—the easy excitement of getting to know someone new. He had rolled over onto his side, trying to get some rest, but his mind wouldn’t quiet. No, he had thought to himself, he wasn’t about to start feeling this way about you. Not now, not when he had so much left unsaid, so many wounds still open. But as sleep had slowly begun to pull him under, that feeling—warm and electric—had lingered in the back of his mind, making it hard to ignore the undeniable pull he had felt toward you.

⠀⠀

The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the streets as Steve revved the engine of the bright red 5.0 Mustang he’d rented for his trip. He’d opted for the car, not just for the joy of driving it, but because he thought it might impress you. Plus, he couldn’t deny that he wanted to show off a little, especially when he’d be picking you up from university. He’d learned from your conversations how much effort you’d put into your education and your dedication to your work, and he was eager to see where you spent your days.

He parked the Mustang in front of the university building, its polished surface gleaming under the late afternoon sun. His eyes scanned the steps, waiting for you to appear. He’d offered to take you to the wedding, knowing how much it meant to you. He’d also taken the time to ensure he had the right attire, knowing it would be expected of him. He wanted to be the gentleman. But it wasn’t just about impressing your family; it was about showing you that he respected you, that he was willing to step into your world, no matter how different it might be from his.

Soon, you appeared on the steps, a bundle of papers clutched in your hand—ones you needed to submit for your master’s application—as you hurried down toward him. You wore a light sundress that floated around your figure as you walked toward him, and Steve couldn’t help but notice the way the late afternoon sun made you glow. As you approached the car, you glanced at him with a playful grin, your eyes lighting up when you saw the Mustang.

“You sure know how to make an entrance, huh?” you teased, your voice laced with amusement as you slid into the passenger seat.

Steve chuckled, feeling a slight rush of pride. “Figured I’d try to keep up with you,” he said, glancing at you as he started the engine. “Ready for this?”

You nodded, still smiling. “I’ve never been more ready. Just a heads-up, though—my parents might give you the look. You know, the ‘who is this American?’ look.” You winked, but there was an apprehension in your gaze that made Steve feel like maybe you weren’t entirely at ease either.

“Yeah, I’m used to ‘the look.’” He grinned, determined to be charming despite the tension in the air. After all, he wanted to make you feel at ease.

As the two of you drove toward the wedding venue, Steve kept the conversation light, asking about your studies, your thoughts on the wedding, and what your family was like. You talked about your work with passion, but he couldn’t help but notice the slight apprehension in your tone when you mentioned your parents.

When you arrived, Steve was introduced to your family, his hand shaking politely as he greeted your parents with a well-practiced smile. They weren’t unfriendly, but there was a certain coldness to their demeanor, like they were sizing him up, unsure of what to make of him. Steve, ever the gentleman, took it in stride, asking questions and trying his best to blend in. But as the evening wore on, it became clear that you were not quite as comfortable as you let on.

You were whisked away by your family to change into something more formal, leaving Steve to fend for himself in a crowd of unfamiliar faces. He quietly took a seat, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of you.

As the evening wore on, one of your relatives gently but firmly ushered Steve away from the crowd, leading him to a room at the back of the venue where an array of Barjan formal attire awaited him. The family had been insistent on ensuring he was properly dressed for the occasion, a tradition that Steve hadn’t anticipated.

“I guess I’ll have to dress the part,” Steve muttered to himself, his voice carrying a hint of amusement as the servant handed him a traditional Barjan tuxedo. It wasn’t quite what he’d expected, but he knew better than to argue—you had asked for him to be taken care of, and he wanted to honor that.

The outfit was stunning: a sharply tailored jacket with intricate gold embroidery at the collar and cuffs, paired with sleek trousers that tapered perfectly at the ankle. The fabric was a rich, deep shade of midnight blue that shimmered under the light, and the shirt underneath was a crisp white with a soft sheen. He looked at himself in the mirror, admiring the polished shoes and the way the suit fit him perfectly, as though he’d been born to wear it.

Once dressed, Steve rejoined the others in the main hall, where he was greeted by your family, all clad in their formal Barjan attire. The women wore elegant, flowing gowns with intricate beadwork and colorful patterns that reflected the island’s natural beauty. The men wore similarly rich outfits, with patterned vests and gold-accented details that gave them an air of authority and elegance. Steve felt like he’d been transported to another world, one full of tradition, culture, and beauty.

Then, finally, you entered, and Steve’s breath caught in his throat. You looked radiant. Your dress was everything he’d imagined and more: a delicate, embroidered gown with a soft blush hue, its flowing fabric catching the light with every step. The intricate patterns on your dress mirrored the ones in your family’s attire, as though you were all part of one elaborate, elegant tapestry. Your hair was let loose in its natural soft waves, and the sparkle in your eyes made you seem even more ethereal.

You smiled when you saw him, and Steve felt his chest tighten with something he couldn’t quite put into words. “You look… incredible,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your grin widened at the compliment, your eyes twinkling. “Thank you,” you replied, your tone light but warm. 

They shared a quiet moment, their connection palpable. The formal attire, the elegance of the night—it all felt surreal, yet right at the same time.

You shared a quiet moment, the connection between you palpable. The formal attire, the elegance of the night—it all felt surreal, yet right at the same time.

Steve couldn’t keep his eyes off you as the wedding celebration rolled on. You were radiant, your smile lighting up the room, but it wasn’t just your looks that had him captivated. It was the way you carried yourself, effortlessly blending into the crowd while still standing out. He wasn’t used to feeling this way—not amid all the military stuff he had been through, not after everything he’d seen. But with you, it was different.

As you stood by the drinks table, Steve couldn’t resist a smile. “You clean up pretty well,” he said, the words coming out more smoothly than he intended, but it was true. You looked stunning in that dress, your laughter echoing in his chest like a warm melody.

You looked over at him with teasing eyes. “For a guy who usually wears a uniform, you look pretty good in that suit yourself.”

“Well, I’m trying to keep up with you,” he replied, giving you a half-smirk. “You know, trying to make a good impression.”

You leaned closer, your voice dropping just slightly, playful but with that edge of seriousness Steve had come to recognize. “You don’t need to try so hard,” you said, your words almost sounding like a challenge. “You’ve already impressed me.”

Steve’s heart skipped a beat. He didn’t know what it was about you that got under his skin like this, but the way you made him feel was disorienting, like the ground wasn’t quite steady beneath him. It had been a long time since he’d felt this much—anything, really.

“So,” he said, trying to keep his composure, “what’s next? You’ve already got my attention, and I’m starting to think that’s the only thing I’m focused on tonight.”

Your lips curved into a smile, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, I guess maybe you should focus on me a little more,” you hinted, but there was something deeper in your voice, a subtle invitation that made Steve want to step closer. “After all, there’s still plenty of weddings left, Captain.”

Steve blinked at the title, his face softening into a grin. “I’m not used to being called that at a party,” he joked, though his mind was already on the edge, keeping himself from crossing the line. He wasn’t used to this kind of playful banter. In the military, things were direct, and to the point. But with you, it was different. You made him feel… lighter. He’d never thought he’d feel this way, especially not in the middle of something so unfamiliar, like a wedding halfway around the world.

He leaned in slightly, just enough to get your attention. “But I’ll insist, you’ve got me distracted, more than I thought possible.”

You laughed softly, as though you were enjoying the chase, but you stayed close enough that their words felt like a secret between the two of them. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” you replied, your voice carrying the slightest hint of playfulness. “Though, maybe I should keep you on your toes a little longer. Can’t make it too easy for you, Captain.”

Before Steve could respond, your parents arrived, their presence immediately cooling the warm atmosphere between them. The formalities kicked back in, and Steve felt a slight shift in your demeanor. You seemed to retreat into yourself a bit, your expression faltering. Steve’s protective instincts flared, but he knew better than to interrupt family matters.

You tried to give him a reassuring smile as you spoke, but it wasn’t enough. Your parents were speaking to you in hushed tones, their words sharp, but Steve managed to catch bits and pieces with his super-soldier hearing. “You’ll marry him soon. It’s already arranged,” your mother’s voice was firm, but there was an undeniable sense of finality in it.

Your expression darkened as you listened, your hands gripping the fabric of your dress as if trying to hold yourself together. Steve’s heart ached for you. He didn’t know what was entirely being said, but he could see the pain in you eyes. He wasn’t about to let this go unnoticed, not when it was clear you needed support.

Without a second thought, he moved toward you, gently pushing through the crowd to reach your side. As soon as you saw him, you turned away from your parents, your face clearly harboring a mix of frustration and sadness.

“[Y/N]?” Steve called out softly, his voice full of concern as he reached out to you.

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you hurried toward the back of the venue, away from the eyes of your family, with Steve following close behind.

“Hey, hey,” he said, catching up with you and gently taking your arm. “What’s going on?”

You looked at him, your eyes wide with emotion. “They… they’ve already arranged my marriage, Steve,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “To someone I don’t even know.”

⠀⠀

The drive back to the beach was quiet. The low rumble of the engine was the only sound between you as Steve kept his eyes on the road, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. The Mustang purred beneath you, but it felt hollow in the silence that stretched out like the ocean you were heading toward. Steve was trying to give you space, but the tension between you was palpable. He knew you were struggling, knew that what had happened at the wedding had cracked something wide open. The weight of it all hung heavily in the air, thick and suffocating.

The soft hum of the ocean was the only sound that accompanied you as you walked along the shore. The sand beneath your feet was cool from the night air, and the sky was dotted with stars, but the world felt heavy around you. You stayed quiet, your steps slow, your mind racing with the events that had just unfolded. Steve kept a careful distance, giving you space, but his mind was working overtime—trying to make sense of everything that had happened.

You reached the spot where you had stood together the day before, where the horizon stretched out before you, untouched and endless. The contrast between that peaceful moment and this was sharp. He could still see the laughter in your eyes, the carefree joy you had shared—but now, your face was clouded with doubt and fear.

Steve paused for a moment, looking at you as you stared out into the dark expanse of the ocean. He wanted to fix this, to do something, anything, to take away the pain that had suddenly overwhelmed you, but he knew this was something only you could express. He was here to listen, to be present, and that was what mattered right now.

You broke the silence, your voice barely audible over the crashing waves. “I thought I had more time, Steve. I thought I had figured things out. I worked so hard for this freedom.” Your voice cracked as you looked at him, tears welling in your eyes. “I thought that if I could prove myself, if I could show them that I could make something of my life… they’d let me go. But now, they’ve taken everything. They hid my passport. They took my money. And now, I have nothing.”

The raw vulnerability in your voice hit him harder than he expected. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out instinctively, resting on your shoulder. You flinched at the touch but didn’t pull away. You needed comfort—he could feel it, even if you weren’t sure you wanted to accept it.

“[Y/N]…” he whispered, his voice full of empathy. He didn’t know what to say, not really. What could he say to make this better? But you kept going, your words tumbling out like a dam had broken.

“I came back thinking everything would be different,” you continued, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “I thought if I came back successful, I could change their minds. But they’ve already planned everything. They’ve arranged my marriage to someone I’ve never met… and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Steve’s heart sank as he heard the desperation in your voice. He wanted to scream, wanted to fight, to tell you that you didn’t deserve this, that you didn’t have to go through this alone. But instead, he just wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, offering you the one thing he could give—comfort.

“You’re not alone, sweetheart,” he said quietly, his voice soft but firm. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You pressed your face against his chest, your tears soaking through his shirt. “You don’t understand. You don’t know what it’s like… to be trapped like this, with no way out. I can’t even run anymore.”

Steve tightened his hold on you, feeling the weight of your pain in his bones. He had faced his fair share of burdens, of being trapped by duty, but this—this was different. You weren’t bound by a war or a mission. You were bound by a life you hadn’t chosen, a future your parents had decided for you.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he said again, his voice hoarse. “We’ll figure this out. I don’t know how, but I’m not going to let them take you from your life.”

You pulled back slightly, your face streaked with tears, your breath ragged. Your eyes searched his, looking for any sign that he truly meant it. That he wasn’t just saying what he thought you wanted to hear.

“I don’t even know how to fight this anymore,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “They have everything… They control everything. And I just wanted to live my life. I just wanted a chance to choose.”

Steve cupped your face gently in his hands, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. “And you will. We’ll find a way. You’re not stuck. I promise you that.”

The tension between you was thick, raw, and emotional. It wasn’t just about the fight against your parents. It was about everything that had been left unsaid, everything that had been building between you. The air between you crackled with unspoken words, a connection that had been forged over the past couple of days but hadn’t fully been explored until now.

“I can’t let you go through this alone,” Steve said, his voice low and steady. “Not now. Not ever.”

You searched his eyes, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. There was a tension in the air—an unspoken connection that hung between you like a spark, waiting for someone to ignite it. Steve wasn’t sure who moved first, but before he could think twice, you closed the distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was both tender and urgent. The world seemed to fall away in that instant, leaving just the two of you in the quiet of the night, where nothing else mattered.

When you finally pulled apart, your breaths shallow, you looked at him, your eyes searching his face. “I never wanted to drag you into this, Steve,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m scared.”

Steve cupped your face gently, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. “You’re not dragging me into anything, [Y/N]. I want to be here. With you.” His voice was steady, but the emotion behind it was raw and real. “Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

You nodded, your lips trembling as you tried to hold back more tears. “But it’s too much. This wedding, this whole thing… it was supposed to be my escape, and now it feels like my worst nightmare.”

Steve leaned his forehead against yours, the cool air of the night brushing against you. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady the turmoil inside of him. “Look, maybe this doesn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “But you’ve got me, sweetheart. You don’t have to pretend like it doesn’t matter to me. It means something. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Your eyes softened at his words, and despite the storm of emotions, you found comfort in his touch, in the sincerity in his eyes. The tension between you was palpable, but in that moment, it wasn’t just about what you had, or the mess of your circumstances. It was about a promise—unspoken but understood—that you would face this together, no matter what it took.

“I can’t promise things will be easy,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But… maybe if you stay, if we try, we could figure this out. Together.”

Steve kissed your forehead softly, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “We’ll figure it out,” he promised. “You’re not alone in this. Not anymore.”

And as you stood there, under the stars, in a moment that felt timeless, Steve knew one thing for sure—whatever came next, he wasn’t going to let you face it without him.

⠀⠀

The air in Steve’s hotel room hit you differently now—quieter, heavier. The events of the day loomed between you both: the wedding and the weight of your revelation. After the drive back to the beach, you couldn’t bring yourself to return home, unwilling to face the reality waiting for you there. Steve had insisted you stay with him for the night—he couldn’t bear the thought of you facing it all alone, especially not now. He didn’t have all the answers, but he knew he couldn’t just do nothing.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, Steve rubbed a hand over his face, the lines of his brow furrowed with thought. His mind raced, trying to conjure solutions, ways to help you. He wanted to be your knight in shining armor, but he knew this wasn’t something he could fix with a few comforting words. You were trapped—your passport, your freedom, your entire future—locked away by the very people meant to love and protect you.

“[Y/N], I…” He faltered, his voice low and uncertain. “I’ll figure something out.”

You sat curled up in the armchair by the window, your gaze fixed on the city lights outside, your expression distant and unreadable. For a long time, you didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. Your silence spoke volumes—he could see the pain etched across your face, the hopelessness lingering in your eyes. It wasn’t just exhaustion; it was the crushing realization that this wasn’t merely a fight for freedom. It was a battle for your entire life.

Steve’s eyes lit with sudden resolve, and he turned to face you, an idea solidifying in his mind. “What if I could help you get out of here?” he asked, his voice urgent but careful.

Your gaze shifted to him, and though curiosity flickered across your face, the sadness in your eyes didn’t waver. “What do you mean?”

He ran a hand through his hair, searching for the words. “I can pull some strings. There are people—resources—that could help you. Maybe we can figure out a way to get your passport or get you somewhere safe. You don’t have to stay here. You don’t have to stay trapped.”

You shook your head, the weight of it all settling over you again. “They’ll come for me, Steve. My family…” You trailed off, biting your lip, your voice tinged with despair. “I don’t think I can escape them.”

Steve moved closer, his eyes locking onto yours with unwavering determination. “You’re not going through this alone,” he said firmly. “You have more options than you think.”

He hesitated for a moment, glancing at the table where a stack of papers sat, before another idea struck him. “The Mustang,” he said suddenly. “I rented it for this trip, but… I can buy it outright. Sell it after. Use the money to help you get started, to give you a chance until we figure out the rest.”

Your eyes widened as you sat up straighter, shaking your head in protest. “I can’t accept that, Steve. It’s too much. It’s your car. It’s… expensive.”

“It’s just a car,” he said, cutting you off before you could finish. His voice softened as his gaze bore into yours, filled with something raw and unguarded. “You mean so much more to me than a car, sweetheart.”

The words caught in the air between you, and his chest tightened at his own vulnerability. You stared back at him, your expression wavering between gratitude and heartbreak. “I don’t think I can go back to my family,” you whispered. “I don’t think I can survive that again.”

A fierce protectiveness surged through Steve as he stepped closer to you. His hand hovered just above your shoulder before finally resting there gently. “I won’t let them take you,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I swear.”

You lowered your gaze for a moment, overwhelmed, before meeting his eyes once more. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you said softly.

Without hesitation, Steve reached out, his hands cupping your face with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. He tilted your head up, your eyes locking with his. And in that suspended moment, he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss started soft, tentative—a quiet promise in the midst of the chaos surrounding you both. But as it deepened, it carried with it the weight of everything unsaid: the fear, the hope, the connection you had both been too scared to acknowledge until now.

When you finally pulled back, Steve reached into his pocket, his expression momentarily distant. His fingers brushed against the smooth surface of the simple ring he’d carried for years. It had once been meant for Peggy—a relic of a life that never came to be. He had held onto it as a reminder of the past, but now, as he looked at you, he realized something.

Maybe it was time to let go. To stop clinging to a ghost and make space for something new, something real.

You looked up at him, your lips trembling with the beginnings of a smile—a real one, the first he’d seen from you since the day began. “Thank you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what’s coming next, but… I trust you.”

Steve nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips as he sat beside you on the bed. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, holding you close as the city lights shimmered in the distance. For a moment, the world outside didn’t matter. The only thing that did was the quiet understanding between you—an unspoken promise to face whatever came next together.

⠀⠀

The following morning, you awoke to the soft sound of ocean waves crashing against the shore. The room was dim, the early light creeping in through the windows. Steve lay beside you, turning his head to look at you still asleep, curled up next to him. Your breathing was steady, peaceful—a stark contrast to the chaos of the night before.

Today was his last day in Barbados.

You hadn’t solved everything, not yet, but you had taken the first step. You had found each other in a moment of vulnerability, and for once, the world outside felt a little less pressing. He smiled softly as he brushed a few strands of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your skin.

As he watched you, his thoughts turned to Peggy—her memory, her spirit—but now it felt like a distant ache, not a tether keeping him bound to the past. Peggy had been a part of his journey, but he had learned it was okay to move on, to let go. The future, whatever it held, didn’t need to be defined by what was lost. It could be shaped by what was right in front of him—you, a new beginning, a chance to build something of your own.

You stirred and slowly opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. A soft smile appeared on your lips as you stretched, still half-asleep.

“Morning,” you whispered, your voice thick with the remnants of sleep.

“Morning,” he replied, his heart light despite everything you both still had to face. “How are you feeling?”

Your eyes searched his for a moment, as if weighing the sincerity in his words. You glanced down, lost in thought, before meeting his gaze again. “I’m… okay,” you said quietly. “It’s a long road ahead, Steve. But I don’t feel so lost anymore.”

He nodded, his hand gently caressing your arm. “We’ll take it one step at a time. I’ll help you with whatever comes next. We’ll figure it out together.”

Your eyes softened, and you gave a small nod. You weren’t fully healed, and there was still a long way to go, but there was hope now. And that was enough.

The sun had fully risen by the time you and Steve were ready to face the world again. After the heartfelt conversation the night before, it felt like progress had been made, but the morning light brought a sobering clarity.

Steve stood at the window of the hotel room, staring out at the endless horizon, the weight of his duty pressing down on him. He had known this moment would come. He had always known that being with you was fleeting—a brief escape from the responsibilities he could never quite shake off. There was a sense of urgency in his chest, a reminder of the mission waiting for him, the world that still needed saving.

You had showered and dressed in silence, your face still pale from the weight of everything you’d gone through. You moved quietly around the room, packing your things as if trying to avoid the inevitable. You hadn’t said it, but Steve could feel your resistance. The distance between you had already started to stretch.

He turned away from the window as you sat on the edge of the bed, looking small in the oversized hotel robe. You weren’t meeting his gaze, and he couldn’t blame you. You had put everything on the line to be with him, only to have to face the reality that a future together wasn’t possible—not now, at least.

“I’ve been thinking,” Steve began, his voice steady but tinged with regret. “I might be able to help you get out of here, help you get your life back. Maybe through SHIELD… I’ll make sure you’re safe, that you have a way out of this. I’ll talk to the director.”

You didn’t respond immediately. You just stared at your hands in your lap, your fingers trembling ever so slightly.

“I don’t want you to do this for me, Steve,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You have a life… your duty. You don’t have to fix this for me. I’ll find a way out, one way or another. I’ve been running from this for years. I can handle it.”

Steve clenched his jaw, fighting the frustration bubbling up. “You shouldn’t have to,” he said quietly, walking over to where you sat. He crouched in front of you, his hands resting gently on your knees. “You deserve better than this. You deserve more than a life of being pushed around by other people’s choices.”

Your eyes finally met his, and for a moment, you just looked at each other, the weight of the world between you. “I thought… I thought I could have a different life,” you said softly, your voice breaking as tears filled your eyes. “But I don’t know how to get away from this. I don’t know how to get out.”

Steve took a deep breath, his heart aching for you. The situation wasn’t fair, and he couldn’t give you the kind of life you deserved. Not right now.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wedding ring. It was strange how something so tied to the past had suddenly become a symbol of hope for the future. He had carried it for too long, unsure of whether he would ever move on, but now it felt right.

He placed the ring in your hand, his fingers lingering on yours for a moment. “I can’t stay, sweetheart. You know that,” he said softly. “But this… this is for you. It meant a lot to me for a while, and now I want you to have it so you remember that you’re not alone. You’re stronger than you know, and one day, you’ll find your way out of all this. I believe that.”

You held the ring in your hand, your fingers wrapping around it as if it were the last thing tethering you to a future you weren’t sure you could have. Your tears finally spilled over, and you let out a shaky breath.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” you asked, your voice breaking.

Steve nodded, standing up and giving you one last, lingering look. “I have to. There’s a world that still needs saving, and I can’t turn my back on it. But you’ll be okay. I know you will.”

You nodded slowly, wiping your eyes as you looked at him one last time. “I’ll find a way… to make things right. I will.”

The two of you stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of what you couldn’t have settling between you. Steve reached down and gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear.

“I’ll never forget you,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “And maybe one day… if the world isn’t too broken, we’ll find a way back to each other.”

You nodded, your heart torn, but you knew the truth of his words. You were both tied to duty, to the things that had shaped your lives. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t remember the good, the fleeting moments of peace you had shared. You would always have those.

“I’ll keep this,” you whispered, holding up the ring. “It’s all I’ll have left of us.”

⠀⠀

You spent your final hours with Steve, the air between you thick with the bittersweetness of time slipping away. Neither of you wanted to waste a single moment.

The day was filled with small, meaningful acts that made it feel as though time had slowed. A quiet breakfast by the beach, just the two of you, the waves gently crashing against the shore. You walked along the sand, hand in hand, the sound of the ocean almost drowning out the rest of the world. Together, you shared memories, laughter, and stories, pretending, if only for a while, that the weight of the world wasn’t pressing down on you.

But no matter how much you tried to savor each second, reality couldn’t be ignored. Time continued to slip through your fingers.

In the afternoon, the two of you returned to the same spot where you had spent your first evening. The sunset painted the sky in vibrant shades of pink, orange, and gold. Steve leaned against a large rock, his arm wrapped around you as you rested your head on his shoulder. Both of you watched the fading light in silence—a silence that was comfortable but heavy with unspoken words.

“I wish we had more time,” you murmured, breaking the stillness. Turning your face toward him, your eyes met his, reflecting the same sorrow you knew he felt.

“I wish I could give it to you,” he replied, his voice low and steady. He reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing against your skin as if memorizing the sensation, knowing it might be the last time. “But you’re strong. You’ll be okay. You’ve already come so far.”

You gave him a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “What about you, Steve? Will you be okay?”

He hesitated, his answer caught somewhere between honesty and reassurance. He couldn’t promise you he’d be okay, not with everything pulling him in so many directions. But he knew one thing for certain: this day, this moment, would stay with him forever. “I think I will,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You sat together in silence again, watching the sunset, neither of you ready to let the moment go.

As the evening deepened, you returned to the hotel together. Your movements were slower now, reluctant, each step bringing you closer to the inevitable parting. Steve could feel it too, the ache of what was to come. It hurt more than either of you had expected.

Before he left the room, you handed him something—a small, folded piece of paper. He opened it, revealing a drawing of a Mustang, your version of the car he had rented. At the bottom, you had written, “For when you’re far away.”

He looked at you, his chest tightening with emotion. The words he wanted to say caught in his throat. Instead, he stepped forward and pulled you into a tight embrace. His arms wrapped around you as if he could hold on forever. He kissed the top of your head, breathing in the scent of your hair, committing it to memory.

“You’ll always have me in your heart,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. You nodded against him, your tears threatening to fall as you held onto him, unwilling to let go.

“And you’ll always have me, Steve. No matter where you are.”

⠀⠀

Steve’s boots clicked against the cold floor of the Avengers compound as he entered, the familiar hum of the place only adds to the weight in his chest. He’d just come back from his brief time away, a time he wasn’t sure how to summarize. It had been a whirlwind, a mixture of emotions he hadn’t expected to feel so deeply. But this sudden vacation had successfully changed him.

As he stepped into the common room, he saw Tony lounging on the couch, his eyes glued to a screen. The moment Steve walked in, Tony looked up with a grin, clearly expecting the usual sarcastic quip.

“So, Cap, how was your vacation?” Tony asked, casually tossing a glance at him.

Steve set down his duffel bag and leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t quite know how to explain what he’d experienced, what he’d left behind. The memories of you lingered in his mind, and they felt like a weight he wasn’t sure how to carry.

“It was… well, it really helped me, Tony,” Steve said quietly, his voice steady, though there was an undercurrent of something deeper there, something he hadn’t figured out how to unpack yet. He glanced out the window for a moment, as though the ocean and the memories of the beach could somehow soothe him. “I didn’t realize how much I needed that time until it was over.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, always quick to read between the lines. But he didn’t push; instead, he took a sip from his glass and leaned back, knowing when not to ask further questions. “Good to hear, Cap. We all need a break now and then.”

Steve nodded, though he didn’t answer immediately. His thoughts drifted back to the last day he had spent with you—how the two of you had spent hours walking along the beach, hand in hand, knowing it was the end of something beautiful but fleeting. He remembered the warmth of the sun on his face, the way your smile had both broken his heart and healed it at the same time. What hit him hardest, though, was the way you had parted. There had been no easy goodbye, no promise that somehow, someway, you would find a way to be together. Just the certainty that life, as it always did, would pull you both in different directions.

He couldn’t shake the thought of that damn Mustang. The one he had rented for you, the symbol of the escape you had needed so badly. You had drawn it for him—your version of it, something small, something tender, that he would hold onto forever. The image of your face, so full of determination and quiet sorrow, was etched in his mind, a constant reminder.

And yet, he knew he had to leave. He couldn’t stay. Duty was calling, and no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t just throw everything away. You had your own future now, one you had fought so hard to build. And he had his—one that couldn’t afford distractions, no matter how deep the feelings had run.

Tony watched Steve, noticing the faraway look in his eyes. “You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” he asked casually.

Steve blinked, shaking himself from his thoughts. He hadn’t expected Tony to guess it so quickly, but then again, Tony always had a way of cutting through the bullshit. He didn’t know how to explain what had happened with you, what it had meant to each other. And he didn’t want to, not yet.

“I am,” Steve admitted softly. “But it doesn’t matter. She’s going to be okay, Tony. I made sure of it.” His voice was low, steady with conviction, but there was something else there—a tinge of regret that he couldn’t quite shake.

Tony studied him for a moment. “That’s good, Cap. But you don’t have to keep it all together all the time, you know? It’s okay to feel like you don’t have all the answers.”

Steve chuckled softly, the humor in his voice tinged with melancholy. “I’m still figuring that out.”

Steve had made sure you left before him and was taken care of before his departure. He had called in every favor, using his influence and SHIELD’s resources to ensure you could leave your old life behind and start fresh. After everything that happened, you deserved a chance at freedom. The control your parents had over your life, the arranged marriage—they had weighed so heavily on your shoulders for so long. But now, with Steve’s help, you were free.

With your new identity, a fresh passport, and a financial cushion, you had the chance to build your future on your own terms. Steve knew you had the strength to make something of yourself, but it wouldn’t be easy. He’d made sure you had the right people backing you, a network of allies who could help you navigate your new life, far from the constraints of your family’s expectations.

You were enrolling in a prestigious university overseas, something you had always dreamed of but never had the opportunity to do before. The freedom you had fought for was finally within reach. Your family would never understand, but you didn’t care anymore. You weren’t the person they had tried to mold you into. You had become your own woman.

But leaving wasn’t simple. The scars of your past, your family’s rejection, and the haunting memories of the arranged marriage still lingered. You had to rebuild yourself from the ground up, and Steve had been there for you every step of the way, even from afar, even if you didn’t directly know it. He had given up a part of himself—his heart, his peace of mind—just to make sure you were safe and had a future. He had set things in motion to ensure you had a chance to be the person you wanted to be, even if it meant not being able to stay in your life.

He had watched you go, knowing that despite everything you shared, you could never be together. You were on your own now, and Steve had to let you go. His duty, his responsibilities, and the life he led as Captain America had always come first. But that didn’t stop him from caring for you, or from wondering what might have been, if only circumstances were different.

As the plane took off, you looked out the window, leaving behind the life that had almost consumed you. Steve’s name echoed in your heart, but you knew you couldn’t look back. You had to keep moving forward. You had your own life to live now, and you would make it count. For him.

You were heading down a different path now, one of independence, of freedom. He had made sure you had the support you needed, and as much as he wished things had turned out differently, he knew he had to let you go.

⠀⠀

Later, as Steve stood in the hallway, his hand on the door to his room, he took one last deep breath. He thought of you, of the way your eyes had sparkled in the fading light of the sun, of the way your smile had broken his heart. He thought of the fading tattoo, the Mustang, and the promise of freedom you now had, and the one thing he had given you—something simple but meaningful: a wedding ring.

It wasn’t his first choice. It wasn’t even his second. It was the one he should’ve given Peggy, the one he carried with him for years as a reminder of what could have been. But now, it had found its way to you—the woman who had made him feel something more than duty, more than responsibility. He couldn’t keep carrying it, couldn’t keep living in the shadow of his past. He had to let go.

The ring was a relic. It didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that, for once, he had lived in the moment.

For Steve, it was the kind of love that burned brightly—intense, fleeting, and beautiful. Like an American wedding, it brimmed with promise, a celebration of what could have been. But some things, no matter how luminous, weren’t meant to endure. And maybe that was okay. Because even in its brevity, it left something lasting—a healing fragment of you, etched into his once broken heart, immune to the passage of time.

And like an American divorce, it became a love story confined to memories—bittersweet and unfinished. You both knew it could never be more, but the echoes of it lingered, quietly shaping the man he would become.

⠀⠀

⠀⠀

Want to read more of my works? Check out my masterlist !

dividers ©️ @k1ssyoursister + @cyberbeat + @atinystaypixie .

angelremnants ©️ 2024. All rights reserved. Do not repost, reproduce, or distribute without explicit permission.

[movienerd22]

Steve: so Tony.. where’s the flying cars huh

Tony: what ? what flying cars, that’s not a thing

Steve: mhm sureee I bet your just keeping them for yourself

Tony: what are you even talking about.. flying cars did you hit your head coming out of the ice

Bucky: *walking in* Howard promised the world flying cars

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Helpless ~ Steve's Version

MAIN MASTERLIST / MARVEL MASTERLIST / MUSICAL INSPIRED FIC MASTERLIST

Steve Rogers x Female!Stark!Reader

Word Count: 2,250ish

Request: song request: helpless (hamilton) for steve where f!reader is pining for him (and ofc he pines back)  and the 'sister' in the song is just best friend!tony 😼😼 (but none of the angelica/hamilton parallels! just tony noticing reader's crush and introducing them) love your work!

Notes: I changed the request a bit, but I hope everyone enjoys it!

“Ooh (hey, hey)

I do, I do, I do, I do (hey, hey, hey, hey)

Hey (hey, hey)

Ooh (hey, hey)

I do, I do, I do, I do (hey, hey, hey, hey, hey)”

The Stark Tower was now The Avengers Tower and tonight Tony was hosting the grand opening gala. He was currently following you around your small New York apartment, begging you to attend.

“Come on, sis,” Tony begged. “For me. You haven’t stepped foot in the Tower once and I want to get your thoughts.”

“Tony,” you sighed with a shake of your head. “I thought we agreed that I’m not meant for the spot light, that’s you.”

“This isn’t the spot light. I have a dress for you. Pepper’s going to be there. You don’t have to hit the red carpet or anything.”

“I don’t know, Tony—“

“Please, Y/N.” He reached over and grabbed your hands. “I almost died, remember?”

You rolled your eyes. “Really? You’re playing that card?”

“Come on! I just want my baby sis to have fun with me for once. Please.”

You new that when your brother was looking at you with this big brown eyes, it was hard for you not to cave. “Fine.”

“Yes!” He pulled you into a hug and kissed your cheek. “Let’s go! I can give you a tour and then you and Pepper can get ready together.”

~~~

You were Tony Stark’s half-sister, having been conceived by Howard Stark having an affair with one of this secretaries. Tony was twelve when you were born and immediately was attached to you. The Starks had kept you a secret to the world and Tony continued to do so at your request. Though you could tell that it was beginning to hurt him more and more. He loved you so much and was so proud of you, and he just wanted to share that with the world.

“The Tower is amazing, Tony,” you told him as the two of you waited in the elevator.

“I’m glad you think so,” he smiled as the elevator stopped and opened up, “because this is your floor.”

“Wh—What?”

Tony grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the elevator. “This is all for you. It has an office for your work, three bedrooms, three and a half bathrooms, a kitchen, a dinning room, and a living room. JARVIS has it set up so that only people you approve can access your floor.”

“Tony… I…”

“Y/N, I almost died. You could have died. I can’t protect my baby sis if you’re out there on your own. Please, do this, for me? No one has to know about the floor or you. I promise. But this way, I know that you’re safe and we can even spend more time together and—“

“Yes, Tony. I’ll move in.”

“Yay!” He kissed your forehead. “Also, the movers are already on their way with you things.”

“Tony!” 

He moved away from your playful swat. “Hey! You know that I just love you, right kid?”

“I know. I love you, too. I’ll always be grateful for what you do for me, Tones.”

“Okay!” He clapped, rubbing his hands together. “Your dress for the gala is in your closet and Pepper and I will swing by to pick you up at 7.”

“Boy, you got me helpless

Look into your eyes, and the sky's the limit

I'm helpless

Down for the count, and I'm drownin' in ‘em”

“I have never been the type to try and grab the spotlight

We were at a revel with some rebels on a hot night

Laughin' at my sister as she's dazzling the room

Then you walked in, and my heart went “boom””

The Tower ballroom as full of celebrities and government officials. There were groups dancing to the music and groups chatting while drinking and eating the hors d’oeuvres.  You had never felt more out of place. You were hiding against the wall with a drink in your hand, watching Tony charm everyone who wished to talk to him.

The soft ding of the elevator caught your attention. You lost your breath as a tall, blonde man where black slacks and a navy button down dress shirt stepped out. He looked just as out of place as you felt. His eyes somehow found your gaze and for a moment, no one else was in the ballroom but the two of you. But before either of you could make a move towards each other, the man was pulled in the direction of a group of government officials. 

“Tryin' to catch your eye from the side of the ballroom

Everybody's dancin' and the band's top volume

Grind to the rhythm as we wine and dine

Grab a sister and whisper, "Yo, this one's mine" (ooh)”

You walked along the side of the ballroom, tracking the man. He kept being pulled into different conversations like he was important. He did seem familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Tony eventually made his way over to you, needing to check on you.

“You holding up, sis?” He asked softly as he handed you a new drink.

“Yeah, fine,” you mumbled, still focused on the man. “Uh, who is that?” You slightly pointed.

Tony’s brows furrowed as he looked over to where you were pointing. “Oh, that’s Capsicle. You know? Captain America?”

“That’s Steve Rogers?”

“The one and only. And annoyingly righteous as I always thought he would be.”

You shrugged. “He’s… cute.”

Tony’s eyes widened as his head snapped in your direction. He quickly studied your face. He had never seen that look on you before. In fact, you had never openly admitted to finding someone cute before. Most likely because you were too scared of what Tony might do. He looked back at Steve. There could definitely be worse people for you to find cute. He sighed and began to head towards Steve.

“Wait, Tony!” You quietly called. “What are you doing?”

“My sister made her way across the room to you (ooh)

And I got nervous, thinking, what's she gonna do? (Ooh)

She grabs you by the arm, I'm thinking I'm through (ooh)

Then you look back at me, and suddenly”

“I'm helpless

Oh, look at those eyes, oh (look into your eyes, and the sky's the limit)

I'm helpless, I know

Down for the count, and I'm drowning in 'em

(Helpless) I am so into you

(Look into your eyes and the sky's the limit) I am so into you

I'm helpless (I know)

I'm down for the count, and I'm drownin' in ‘em”

You watched anxiously as Tony made his way across the ballroom to Steve. Tony greeted him with a hand to his upper arm and the two began chatting. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you watched. Suddenly, both of them were looking at you and you met Steve’s eyes once again. They were the most beautiful shade of blue, you could have drowned in them. Right then and there you knew that you were screwed.

“Where are you taking me?

I'm about to change your life

Then by all means, lead the way”

“Elizabeth Schuyler, it's a pleasure to meet you

Schuyler? (My sister)

Thank you for all your service

If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it

I'll leave you to it”

“Where you are leading me to?” Steve questioned as he followed Tony across the ballroom.

“To the most beautiful girl across the ballroom,” Tony commented. “And trust me, I don’t introduce anyone to her.” They stopped in front of you and you were trying not to freakout. “Steve Rogers, meet Y/N Stark.”

“Stark?” Steve was genuinely surprised.

“My sister.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Steve,” you said, shyly, offering your hand.

He took it, shaking it gently. “Nice to meet you, too,” he replied.

“I’m going to leave you two to it,” Tony smirked. “But don’t do anything stupid. That’s my baby sister you’re dealing with.” Then he slipped off to rejoin Pepper.

“I’m sorry about him,” you apologized for your brother. “He’s really protective.”

“I didn’t even know he had a sister,” Steve said. “It’s not in any of the files.”

“Yeah, it’s a family secret. Fury won’t allow it to leak because Tony and I asked him to.”

Steve nodded and then nervously looked around. “Uh… I don’t… well… I can’t dance, but do you want to?”

You giggled. “You can’t dance and you just asked me?”

“Yeah, only if you want to—“

“I’d love to.”

“One week later, I'm writin' a letter nightly

Now my life gets better every letter that you write me

Laughin' at my sister 'cause she wants to form a harem

I'm just sayin', if you really loved me, you would share him (ha)”

You and Steve quickly became inseparable. You would meet for coffee in the Tower and go on walks around the block. The two of you talked about your lives: his before the ice and how he was handling the new century and yours being the bastard Stark. 

Feelings were growing quickly between the two of you but neither of you were confident enough to act on them.

“Two weeks later, in the living room stressin'

My father's stone-faced while you ask him for his blessin'

I'm dying inside as you wine and dine

And I'm tryin' not to cry, 'cause there's nothing that your mind can't do (ooh)”

“My father makes his way across the room to you (ooh)

I panic for a second, thinking we're through (ooh)

But then he shakes your hand and says, "Be true" (ooh)

And you turn back to me smiling”

Steve was nervous, more nervous than he had ever been. He had seen the way Tony protected you in just the little time he had known about you. So Steve felt like he needed to check with Tony before he asked you out. He found Tony in the lab.

“Hey, Tony, can we talk?” Steve hoped that his voice didn’t give off the nerves he was feeling.

“Sure,” Tony mumbled, focused on his suit. “What’s up, Cap?”

“I… Well, I was wondering if it would be okay if I asked Y/N out on a date?” Tony dropped everything he was working on and slowly turned to face Steve. “I— I know that we haven’t know each other very long but I have really enjoyed getting to know her more and I—“

“Stop right there, Rogers.” Tony moved his jaw around as he put his thoughts together. “I need to be honest with you. Y/N doesn’t go on dates. Some of it’s my fault. I’m always worried about her safety and people finding out the truth of who she is.”

“I would never do anything to hurt her, Tony.”

Tony scoffed. “That's what they all say. But… I know that you mean well, Rogers. And I know that I monitor everything that happens in the Tower so I will know if you do, do anything. And I mean, anything! Got that?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Just… treat her good, Steve. She deserves everything.”

“I will.”

“I'm helpless

(Look into your eyes, and the sky's the limit)

I'm helpless (helpless)

Down for the count, and I'm drownin' in 'em (whoo!)

Helpless (that boy is mine, that boy is mine, ooh)

Look into your eyes, and the sky's the limit

I'm helpless (helpless) (whoo)

Down for the count (yeah), and I'm drownin' in ‘em”

“Eliza, I don't have a dollar to my name

An acre of land, a troop to command, a dollop of fame

All I have is my honor, a tolerance for pain

A couple of college credits and my top-notch brain”

“Insane, your family brings out a different side of me

Peggy confides in me, Angelica tried to take a bite of me

No stress, my love for you was never in doubt

We'll get a little place in Harlem and we'll figure it out”

“I've been livin' without a family since I was a child

My father left, my mother died, I grew up buck wild

But, I'll never forget my mother's face, that was real

As long as I'm alive, Eliza, swear to god you'll never feel so”

You could tell that Steve was nervous about something as the two of you headed back to your floor after meeting for coffee. When the two of you reached the elevator, Steve paused.

“Uh, Y/N, I, um… I have a question to ask you,” Steve stammered.

“Yeah, Steve?” You asked.

“Would you… Would you like to go on a date with me?”

You smiled as you inhaled sharply. “Yes, Steve, I would love to go on a date with you.”

“Really?” Steve grinned, so giddy that you said yes. “You want to?”

“I do…. I really do.”

“I do, I do, I do

Eliza (helpless) (I do, I do, I do)

I never felt so (helpless)

Yeah, yeah

Down for the count, and I'm drownin' in 'em (down for a count, and I’m-)”

“Helpless (yo, my life is gon' be fine 'cause Eliza's in it)

Helpless (I look into your eyes, and the sky's the limit, I'm)

Helpless

(Down for the count, and I'm drownin' in ‘em)”

“In New York, you can be a new man

In New York, you can be a new man

In New York, you can be a new man (helpless)”

[gender-thief2]

iron man incorrect quotes in the year of our lord 2025 because i have brain rot and you all will suffer for it

[galaxygurlll]

Avengers Age of Ultron x Reader - Part 1

You were taken at the age of 2 to a HYDRA base. You get the powers of air, water, fire, nature, metal manipulation and teleportation.

When twins, Pietro and Wanda show up, you form a brother-sister-sister-like connection with them. They are also protective of you.

Once the Avengers show up, things start to change...

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

-3rd person perspective- 

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

“Report to your stations immediately. This is not a drill. We are under attack. We are under attack,” The announcer calls out as all soldiers rush around, getting to their stations as three mysterious figures stand in the doorway, two tall and one smaller. A white-blonde-haired and brown-eyed male in the middle, Pietro Maxamoff and on either side, two women. One, with long brown hair and matching brown eyes on his left, his twin sister, Wanda Maxamoff. But, on Pietro’s right, another girl, but, a young girl. The girl is only 13. She has y/h/l y/h/c with y/e/c that have bags under them. Her name, is y/n. Doesn’t know or even remember her last name as she was taken at the age of two. 

She’s the longest survivor here at this Hydra base. She gained the power of air, water, fire, nature, metal manipulation and teleportation. Strange, right? Well, Pietro, her honorary older brother, has super speed whilst Wanda, her honorary older sister, has telekinesis, energy manipulation, and some form of neuroelectric interfacing that allows her to both read thoughts and also give her targets waking nightmares. They’re like three strange related and non-related siblings. Anywho, back to the story. 

Pietro takes both girls' hands in his fingerless gloved ones and reassuringly squeezes them as panic erupts around them. 

We go back over to the leader, Strucker, who is talking with a Fortress Soldier. “Who gave the order to attack?” He asks, “Herr Strucker, it’s the Avengers. They landed in the far woods, the perimeter guard panicked,” The Soldier informs the leader. Strucker turns to Dr. List, “They have to be after the sceptre,” He says then turns back to the Soldier, “Can we hold them?” Strucker asks impatiently, “They’re the Avengers…” The Soldier answers with concern and worry, “Deploy the rest of the tanks,” Strucker tells him, “Yes, sir,” he replies. 

Back to the twins, we see y/n looking around the room with blank glances as she scratches around the metal bracelet on her wrist which holds her powers still, but Pietro grabs her hand again, forcefully, yet gently and when the girl looks up to him, he looks at her with a worried glance, but sees in her eyes that she’s sorry and they both look forward again as Wanda worries more for the girl of 13. You see, y/n has lost her capability of forming true human emotions over the years. She’s basically emotionless, well, she is. She’s also gone mute over the years as she never had someone to properly teach her how to speak though the twins have tried and failed.. Her eyes, as Pietro and Wanda say, tell them everything they need to know. 

The three spot Strucker and the the doctor, Dr. List, look their way for a brief moment, then they go back to their conversation. 

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

-Slight time skip, 3rd person still- 

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

“We will not yield! The Americans sent their circus freaks to test us. We will send them back, in bags. No surrender,” Strucker announces to the soldiers in the room who reply back with, “No surrender!” Then get back to work. Strucker turns to Dr. List and whispers, “I’m going to surrender. You will delete everything. If we give the Avengers the weapons, they may not look too far into what we’ve been…-” Dr. List cuts him off, “The twins and the girl,” He says whilst looking to the doorway, “They’re not ready to take on-“ Strucker begins to say but is then cut off again, “No, no. I mean…” Dr. List trails off as he points to the doorway and says, “The twins and the girl.” 

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

-Pietro pov- 

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

I didn’t want to leave the girls. But they convinced me. 

As I’m spreading through the forest, I spot a guy with a bow and arrow and, casually, I speed up to him and knock a bullet into him. Slowing down, I look down to the guy in pain and say, “You didn’t see that coming?” Then I speed off again and, once again, spot another dude who I knock off a bike causing me to chuckle as I continue running. 

I reach back to where I was before, and see only y/n there. I walk over to her and ask, “Where’s Wanda?” I wrap an arm around her shoulders as she shrugs them and I sigh. Wanda doesn’t like to listen much. 

Y/n suddenly pushes my arm off her shoulders and heads off somewhere. “Do you feel her?” I call out and she nods whilst starting to jog. I just stand where I am, staying hidden as well. 

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

-Y/n pov- 

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

I jog to where I now hide behind a corner. Why? Well because there is a man with a big shield around the corner. Whilst hiding, I hear him talk, “Baron Strucker. Hydra’s number one thing,” Big shield man says, “Technically, I’m a thug for SHIELD,” Strucker tells big shield man, “Well then technically you’re unemployed. Where’s Loki’s sceptre?” Big shield man asks and I start start to wonder who this Loki guy is. 

Though, my thoughts are cut off, “Don’t worry, I know when I’m beat. You’ll mention how I cooperated, I hope,” Strucker says as I roll my eyes at this, “I’ll put it right under illegal human experimentation,” I look to the ground at what big shield man said, but I sense Wanda more and emerge around the corner slightly. 

“How many are there?” Big shield man asks and I see Wanda knock him down the stairs with he telekinetic power, then quickly leaves. Luckily for me; sense the sarcasm? He lands right in front of me. He looks up at me and I look down at him and we both stay still for around three seconds, then, without thinking, I speak and say, though my voice is cold, rough and static-like because I don’t speak, I get something out, “Help.” 

That’s all I can produce and he quickly stands up and continues to look at me, “I have two more enhanced. Both female. One very young. Do not engage,” Big shield man says, “Stay here,” He tells me in a soft tone and I nod my head slightly as he turns his attention back to Strucker as he speaks, “You’ll have to be faster than…-“ But Strucker is cut off by the big shield guy throwing his shield at him, and, which I see, knocks him out. 

“Y/n, come on,” I hear Wanda say in my mind, “We can get out, come on,” She says but I stay put, I don’t want this guy to get mad at me. I must have been staring off into space because the next thing I hear is, “Kid, you alright?” I blink and I see big shield guy kneeling at my height in front of me. As we look into each other’s eyes, I shake my head slightly as big shield man sighs and shakes his head lightly, “What have they done to you?” He mutters as he puts a hand on my cheek, making me flinch back slightly. 

“I’m not going to hurt you kid, I just want to help you,” He tells me softly and I stare at him, “I’m Steve. Steve Rogers,” He tells me, still in a soft tone, “And you are?” He asks, “Y-Y-Y/n,” I tell him with the same tone of voice as before and he nods, “Last name?” He asks kindly and I shake my head and, though painful to speak, I do speak, “C-can’t r-rem-em-ber,” I stutter and see his face fall, “You poor thing…” He says as he stands up to his full height now and looks down at me and holds out his hand, “Come with me. The others and I can help you. I promise,” Steve tells me in a reassuring tone and I look at him with no emotion. 

His eyes show many emotions. Sadness, hope, anger and more. I look to his hand, then back to his eyes and see him nod so, I take a deep breath, then take his hand. He gives it a reassuring squeeze as he picks up Strucker with one arm and over one shoulder as he leads me out, the silence being comfortable.

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

Next chapter

Part 2: Will write for soon!

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

A/n: Only part to bring over for this one

[unholyhelbig]

I have a whump prompt I found on pintrest: "Baths were used as a form of torture against reader. They were forced to sit in icy water for hours on end or they were repeatedly held under until they blacked out. When they get rescued, and then are given a bath, they freak out and try to stay away from the water."

Title: Brackish | [read part two]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanov/Romanoff

Word Count: 3280

Warnings: Mentions of torture, mentions of mind control, ice baths, abuse, starvation, drowning, panic attacks, imprisonment, vomiting, blackouts, Canon-typical violence, horrible grammar. I stuck with the request, please respect your triggers!!!

Summary: Agent Romanoff is sent into an interrogation room to break the only prisoner they pull from a Hydra compound, but things don't go exactly as planned.

[A/n: God damn, I haven't written about Romanoff in so long, it truly does feel so good to write about her again and it seems like Tumblr is seriously lacking in fics lately! I miss my bby girl!]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Natasha Romanoff’s eyes were something cold and calculated that reminded you too much of the cell that the unnamed agency had pulled you from twenty-four hours before. They’d seated her across from you in the darkened room, the cold metal chair digging into your spine uncomfortably, but comparatively comfortable compared to the floor you’d slept on for an indiscernible amount of time.

She regarded you with discontent, an icy type of green that you were sure would give way to a critical glare in a matter of moments. Still, you didn’t waver. Something she wasn’t used to. They’d sent her in after the overly-muscled-man with a soft blue stare and another one with a goatee from the early 2000’s and an attitude that matched.

You hadn’t broken for either of them. It was the classic good cop, annoying cop routine. Natasha Romanoff was clearly the bad cop. They hadn’t pulled her at first and you knew it was because of where they had pulled you from. A facility that was filled with nothing but bad cops. Worse than bad cops. Cops that had dissected you, pulled out all of your organs and stitched you back up incorrectly just for the hell of it.

“Do you speak?”

Natahsa’s own voice was raspy from disuse. She’d given up on the silent game now that it had been over an hour. Her manicured fingers had fallen onto the metal table and left rings of warmth on the surface. You watched as the disappeared.

She reached across the length of the table, movements assured. You tracked her with your stare but still flinched when she placed her warm fingers under her chin and lifted it, eyebrows furrowing. “There’s a scar over your larynx. Did they cut deep enough?”

You leveled her with a glare of your own and wrenched away from her touch. Yes, you could talk. They’d spared your vocal chords. You just didn’t want to speak with her. With any of them, for that matter. They’d taken you from one cage and thrown you right into another. Even if this one had heating and a plush bed it was a cage all the same.

A huff left you, instead. You crossed your arms over your chest and sat back in your seat, lifting a sculpted eyebrow. If you looked hard enough you swore that there was the slightest curve of a smile on Natasha’s lips. You wondered if they were interrogating the others that they pulled from the wreckage of the Hydra base, or if they only had eyes on you. If she only had eyes on you.

“Family, then?” She tapped her fingers impatiently. “Anyone we can notify?”

You tilted your head to the side, keeping your expression neutral. Though the subject matter was a sore spot, something raw like sunburn after a long day at the beach, it was something that your brain had forced itself to forget for your own good. Her tactics were useless.

Truthfully, you could feel exhaustion tugging at the back of your eyes. It would be easy to give up now, to slump forward and lay your head on the cool exterior of the table. Would it be so bad to give up to an agency such as this one?

When muscle-man was in here earlier, you could smell the sweetness of coffee on his breath. It was laced with hazelnut, and it was oh so different than the sour stench of alcohol that often joined the spit that coated your face when Hydra agents swished saliva around their mouths and flung the viscus at you.

Goatee was well groomed and slicked his hair back with a beautifully scented hair gel that carried an evergreen odor. It was the closest you had gotten to the outdoors in decades. You had nearly folded then, for the simple fact that you wanted to close your eyes and imagine what it would feel like to brush the tips of your fingers against the sappy needles.

Agent Romanoff flicked her gaze past your unmoving form to the reflective glass behind you. A two-way mirror, you knew. They’d been watching you for ticks this entire time, some indication that you would break and then shatter so they could pick you back up in your moment of need. They were talking to her through an earpiece that was miniscule enough that you couldn’t see it. Impressive.

“Okay,” She leaned back in her own chair, defensive demeanor seeming to soften in the slightest. Her jaw unclenched and her eyebrows unfurrow. There was a beauty to her that was unassuming even in the blaring lights above. This time her voice was lower. “Alright. Well, if you’re going to be stubborn, we might as well clean you up, get some food in you. We can’t have you rotting away in an interrogation room, can we?”

No- you supposed they couldn’t. Hydra would do the exact opposite. They’d haul you into a cell that was soaked with the scent of urine and cold and desolate and scattered with the blood of others. Already, this was an improvement.

You wouldn’t let them know that. You wouldn’t let Agent Romanoff know that.

There were cuffs around your wrists, bound tightly, but not uncomfortably. The metal was heavy, and your arms hung at your front. You allowed yourself to be hauled to your feet with dizzying deftness. Unsteady, nauseous. Natasha smelled nice and clean, and her body was warm just from its proximity to you. Base instincts told you to flinch away. Baser instincts told you to crash into her. You fought both valiantly and allowed her to lead you into a plain looking hallway.

Neither of you spoke and you were thankful for Agent Romanoff letting you set the pace. It was hard to walk. Whitehall would bark out orders and you were often hauled to your feet, dragged with a quickness that would give you no choice but to fight until layers of tissue ripped from your fingers as you fought. And fight you did. Teeth and nails until everything was raw and bloodied.

Now that you were alone, mostly alone, away from the prying eyes of the men behind the two-way glass, you relaxed your shoulders and felt the breath in your lungs leave with a little less tension. Unlabeled rooms were on either sides of the corridor, yellowed light spilling from select ones, your stare tracing the golden color.

Eventually, Natasha stopped at one that looked like all the others. She used a keycard on her belt until a magnetic click sounded. When she pushed it open it reveled something of a hotel room. Windowless, but cozy: a queen-sized bed, a television with a screensaver of a beach with flowing water, a desk and a closet, a bathroom that was larger than the cell Hydra had kept you in for an indefinite amount of time.

 It was a hell of a prison, but the door locking with a mechanical click reminded you that it was a prison all the same, your gaze hardening against the outline of the entrance at the noise. Agent Romanoff watched you carefully. Tenderly. It squeezed at your chest.

“I’m going to take these off now.”

Natasha edged her fingers against the cuffs, pressing the right combinations that released them. Instinctively, you rubbed your hands against the raw skin. They weren’t too tight. Just phantoms of the metal and the freedom that you were craving.  She tossed them on the bed with little regard.

You tracked her as she walked into the bathroom, flicked on the lights. “I’m sure you want some privacy right now. I’ll stay in the room but you have to crack the door. Standard precautions and all that. I’m sure you understand. We can’t leave you alone just yet.”

Natasha turned to you, green eyes still filled with a tepid worry. “Bathtub is just through there, already run. Towels and a fresh set of clothes are set out.”

Your fingers tightened around your stomach with fervor. It was an involuntary motion. The fabric that was stained and crusted in your own blood and sweat crinkled under the motion. It would be noticeable to a blind man and it was certainly noticeable to a trained agent. You must have paled. Must have shown some form of trembling panic. Your façade had cracked in the slightest form that piqued Natasha’s interest.

“I can sit with you, if you’d like.” Natasha sounded out.

No, no, no. That would make it worse. She could easily put her hands on your shoulders and dunk you under the water. The second you let your guard down, nothing was stopping her from holding you against the basin until you lost consciousness.

“Bathtub,” The whimper left you. The first word that you’d said since being taken from the Hydra compound. More of a whispered plea than anything. Your nails were digging so heavy into your ribs that they were drawing blood, such a small pinprick.

“Can’t”

Another punctuated word. Your throat was closing. It felt like it was closing, skin cold. They would use bags upon bags of ice in a metal tub. Whitehall claimed the practice taught patience. That sitting until your lips were blue and your skin was numb kept you vigilant. Unfeeling. Trained well and good.

When you did something against his diligent conditioning, he’d shove you under. Wait until the shock of cold made you black out, steal the air from your lungs and make you choke on the icy cold before pulling you back up and forcing you to sit in your own trembling mess for hours on end, just to start the process all over again. Hours morphing into days.

“Bathtub”

You were clawing at your throat now, trying to force air into it, like your nails would slash into the soft skin of your throat and allow the breath to flow freely. You were cold everywhere, nearly numb in the extremities. The stinging had moved from your sides to your collarbone. You were scratching at yourself. Had to make sure you were real, not submerged. Not drowning.

Agent Romanoff, at some point, had moved closer to you. That clean scent pulled into your lungs frantically. You were breathing, you knew logically that you were. Her warm hands gripped yours and pulled them away from your chest as she pressed your back to the coolness of the wall.

“Hey… Easy, easy”

Your arms were crossed over your chest, Natasha applying pressure to the center of the ‘x’ she had formed naturally. She pressed her whole body close to yours. Warmth. Security. The exact opposite of the ice bath that Whitehall would constantly dunk you into.

Tears streaked down your face, small cries escaping you as you let your head drop back against the wall. Natasha held you steady. Her eyes search your expression. She applies just the right amount of weight to you to help you breathe. You sniff hard. Swallow harder.

Soon it’s just the sound of your breath mingling with hers, of the air pumping into the room through the vent in the corner. You’re thankful that the room is fortified for sound. Much unlike the cells at the Hydra compound. Suddenly, and not for the first time today, you’re thankful for a lot of differences between the place you’d been pulled from the and place you’d been pushed into.

“Don’t suppose you have a room with a shower,” You huffed out.

Agent Romanoff scoffed, let her head fall just above your shoulder with a thump. “Yeah. I think I can figure something out.”

‘Figuring something out’ to Natasha meant taking you from the generic room on the basement level of the Avengers tower and moving you without consequence up to what you assumed was her floor. Something of a penthouse that overlooked the city.

A blanket of stars that rivaled the real nighttime sky. It was dizzying to you. You didn’t want to linger on the gesture for too long. She was being kind and had brought you down from a panic attack with the swiftness of a trained hero. You were sure that they made her take a course in that.

It was decorated smartly and smelled of vanilla. The elevator opened directly into her living area, large and stretching and chrome in a way that was not too garish. Agent Romanoff did not seem guarded about allowing you into her home. This was her home.

She removed her earpiece and set it on the table by the elevator as if it were car keys and not her lifeline to the man with the goatee and the muscle-man. There was an ease to her shoulders that showed she trusted you. Or at the very least, that she could take you.

You followed her like a lost puppy, taking stock of the modern art on the walls as she led you to a bathroom. The primary objective. This time, there was no bathtub, an obvious relief. Just a frosted shower that was as elegant as the rest of the residence.

“I can sit with you.” She offered again, this time, less cautious.

“Please.”

It wasn’t so much as begging as a simple answer to her simple question. Natasha was a gentleman and sat down on the closed lid of the toilet, making a show of clamping her hand over her eyes and crossing her legs at the knee. You scoffed and stripped and closed yourself into the shower before turning on the water, flinching under the cold spray for just a moment.

There was relief there, in the growing warmth of the water and the way the dirt and blood and grime washed down the drain. Your muscles trembled under the heat as they began to loosen. You breathed. You clenched your eyes shut, letting the drops of water fall from the curve of your nose. It felt safe to close your eyes with Agent Romanoff right outside the glass plating.

Her shampoo smelled like her. Clean. Comforting. Soon the water ran clear, and you accepted the clothes that she gave you with gratitude unmatched. Still guarded but less-so. There was a pinkness on Agent Romanoff’s cheeks, as you dressed in a labored silence that you easily attributed to the thick steam the two of you breathed in. It crept silently past the hand that hid her eyes from the world.

Instead of leading you back down to the cell, to the room, she’d taken you to her kitchen. Told you to sit down. Now that you had a change of clothes, a t-shirt that was soft as if it’d been worn a million times before, and a pair of gray sweatpants that you had to cuff at the ankles, you felt better. Well enough not to curl into yourself as much. Less of a stranger in your own body but still a passenger waiting for instructions that Natasha was happy to provide.

“I don’t have much. It’s pretty late, so if you’re willing to forgive microwave pizza, so am I.” She turned from the fridge and you gave her the smallest bit of a nod that she found endearing. “Perfect. I’m afraid I’m no chef.”

You watched her curiously as she loaded up the plate with cold slices of New York style pizza. Even now, the scent hit you and made your mouth water. It was simple, probably a few days old and certainly not as good as it would have been fresh, but your stomach clenched in want all the same.

At the Hydra compound, it had been the same thing when they decided to grant you food. A slathering of white rice and tasteless gravy. Sometimes a chunk of stale white bread to soak up the soupy gruel if you were lucky. You often weren’t but by the time they’d slide the frothy tray through the bottom of the latch in the darkness you were too starved to care.

The first time you’d eaten too quickly to digest it properly and promptly vomited it back up. Whitehall was not pleased. He’d dug his boot into the tenderness of your ribs as a punishment for being ungrateful for what he’d provided you. You weren’t permitted food again for another three days after that.

Natasha slid the plate in front of you now, watched as you shrunk in front of her, lifted your eyes to her own as if waiting for permission to touch the food. Her eyebrows knit together. She attempted to lighten the mood “Lactose intolerant?”  

“No,” You whispered with a laugh, “No, I don’t know. I… why are you doing this?”

The chair creaked as she sat back, a baffled expression on her face. “It’s my job.”

“There’s more than that. You could have left me downstairs to fight off that panic attack on my own, but you didn’t. You walked me through it and then brought me into your own space and let me shower and gave me your own clothes and your own food. I don’t… that’s not part of the job descriptions, I don’t think. I don’t deserve any of it.”

“And who told you that?” Natasha huffed out a breath, lifted her chin towards the plate. “Eat. I know you’re starved.”

She hadn’t answered your question. Not really. But an order was what you needed right now and it was enough to get you to give in to the hunger clawing at the base of your stomach. After the first bite- the first time you had flavor in god knows how long, you gave in and started taking larger portions. The desire for something human swallowed you whole, and happy hums of satisfaction brought a small smile to Agent Romanoff’s face.

Natasha ate slower than you did. With the poise of someone who had once been starved, but had pushed through that haze. When you’d both finished, she moved the plates to the sink, turned to you and rested her palms against the edges of the counter with a question on tip of her tongue.

“I don’t feel comfortable sending you back down there. I have a guest room, more than one, actually. I know that you’ve been through a lot. Too much for any one person to go through in a lifetime. Logically, it’s not safe to have you in my home. I know that and you know that.”

She paused, as if she were waiting for you to object. But you didn’t. She was right. Agent Romanoff was trained. There was good reason to have you locked up downstairs and you were perfectly fit to move back to that room. The idea of the bathtub being just behind a door made your spine stiffen, but it was manageable. It had to be manageable.

You swallowed the dryness in your throat at the thought. Something that the agent again noticed in the quietness of her own home.

“You are the only one we pulled from that compound who was not there willingly, but I assume you know that.” She hugged herself, something subtle. Something grounding. “If you are to stay here… with me. I’d like to know what to call you.”

You squeezed your fingers into the palms of your hands, letting the pressure soothe you for a moment, and then released the hold. A weighted warmth falling heavy on your shoulders, almost as if Agent Romanoff’s body was still pressed against yours like it had been downstairs to quell the anxieties that bubbled up.

“I don’t know,” You shook your head, a small pout forming against your lips. “I don’t think I’m supposed to remember.”  

[chwrrylace]

─── ❝ I LOVE YOU 3000 ❞

SUMMARY ; avengers confession hcs

AVENGERS x gn!reader.

CONTENT ; pinning, confessions, fluffy, use of y/n

WORD COUNT ;

A/N ; just rewatched avengers and fell in love w them again

── .✦ 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐊

𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 smooth about it, cracking jokes to hide how nervous he actually is. He’s used to having confidence, but when it comes to you, it’s different.

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐄 𝐈𝐍 a grand yet casual way—maybe over dinner at one of his penthouses, or while working in the lab together. “So, hypothetically speaking… if a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist had feelings for you, would you entertain the idea? Asking for a friend.”

𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐎𝐑 push for a serious answer, he’ll drop the act for a second. “I mean it, y/n. I want you. No games, no distractions. Just us.”

── .✦ 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐋𝐃-𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 it comes to romance. He’d take his time, making sure he’s certain about his feelings before confessing.

𝐇𝐄'𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐘 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐓—like a walk in the park, a quiet dinner, or even a handwritten letter if he’s too nervous.

“𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 you something, but I didn’t want to rush it. You mean a lot to me, and I…I care about you more than I should as just a friend.”

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 for any sign of rejection, but once he sees you feel the same, his signature soft smile appears.

── .✦ 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍

𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐓𝐋𝐄. 𝐀𝐓 all. He’d make his feelings clear through grand gestures—bringing you rare Asgardian gifts, calling you his beloved even before confessing, and just showering you with affection.

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒, 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 with absolute certainty. There’s no hesitation in his voice.

“𝐘/𝐍, 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐘 battles, faced great foes, and yet none have left me as breathless as you do. You hold my heart, and I would be honored if you allowed me to cherish you.”

𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐎𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 the confession, lifting his drink and demanding the others in the room celebrate this glorious revelation.

── .✦ 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑

𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 with confessing. He’d second-guess himself, thinking he’s too dangerous or not good enough for you.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐏 out in an unguarded moment—maybe after a near-death experience where he realizes he can’t keep bottling it up.

“𝐈…𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐈𝐅 this is the right time to say it, but I need you to know. You’re the only person who makes me feel like I’m more than just… a mess. I—God, I really care about you, y/n.”

𝐇𝐄'𝐃 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊 away, but if you accept his feelings, the relief in his eyes would be overwhelming.

── .✦ 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍

𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐅𝐔𝐋 at first, throwing in flirtatious quips and seeing how you react. But when he gets serious, he’s serious.

𝐇𝐄'𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀 mission, still riding the adrenaline high, realizing that life is too short to keep things bottled up.

“𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊, 𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 tomorrow brings, but I know I want you in it. I’ve been falling for you for a while now, and if there’s even a chance you feel the same, I’d be the luckiest guy alive.”

𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄, 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐀 smirk, a relieved sigh, and probably a terrible joke to lighten the mood.

── .✦ 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐅𝐅

𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐀 𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 emotions, so her confession would be subtle at first—lingering touches, deeper conversations, protective instincts kicking in more than usual.

𝐒𝐇𝐄'𝐃 𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐓 casual, not wanting to make a big deal out of it, but her words would carry weight.

“𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐃𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 whole… feelings thing. But if I did, I’d probably say that I want you. That you mean something to me. More than I let on.”

𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐉𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 getting soft, she’ll roll her eyes, but you’ll catch the faintest blush on her cheeks.

© chwrrylace — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

[pixiexdusts-world]

Incorrect quote

Bucky: Dumbest scar stories, go!

Y/n: I burned my tongue once drinking tea.

Natasha: I dropped a hair dryer on my leg once and burned it.

Steve: I have a piece of graphite in my leg for accidentally stabbing myself with a pencil in the first grade.

Tony: I was taking a cup of noodles out of the microwave and spilled it on my hand and got a really bad burn.

Peter: …

Peter: I have emotional scars.

[lacy-oh-lacy]

Coming out to Marvel Characters

A/N: Happy Pride! Reader's orientation/identity is ambiguous, as is your relationship with the characters :) Masterlist

Steve: Telling him is a little intimidating considering the time he’s from, but truthfully you could of told him back in the 30s and even then he would of accepted you -albeit with more anxiety over your safety. He’s open minded for his time, and he has in spades the kind of compassion you need after bearing your heart and soul like that. 

Tony: He’s a dickhead more often than not, but he gets that this is a rare time not to be. He’s quiet for a moment, processing, and then he’s nonchalant. He acknowledges what you said as sensitively as he can but he also doesn’t linger on it. He accepts who you are, but to him it’s not a moment to get sappy over, it’s as casual as he thinks lending someone basic human decency should be.

Thor: He forgets for a minute that this can be a big deal to earthlings, queerness as you call it is a lot more normalised on Asguard.Then he remembers, and trying to be supportive -albeit a little clumsily- he pats your back and commends the courage it must of taken to tell him, assuring you you have his wholehearted acceptance.

Natasha: Look, as perceptive as she is, there’s no way she hasn’t already known for months. She’s just been too respectful to say anything. When you do finally tell her she feigns just a bit of surprise for your benefit, then she’s very casual about the whole thing. She’s accepting but in a quiet way, she’s one to show her support subtly as it naturally comes up.

Wanda: She doesn’t have the most in depth lgbtqia+ education or anything but she wholeheartedly supports the community. So, between that and her being the compassionate person she is, she’s very easy to tell. She’s so understanding and sensitive to your feelings, and honestly she’s just really touched that you trusted her enough to tell her.

Peter P: It really does come as a surprise, just because he’s usually so preoccupied with his own secret that he doesn’t often think about what other people might be hiding. He adjusts right away though, he’s always considerate to your comfort and now is no exception. He’s so sweet, he’s just happy you told him and asking the most thoughtful questions.

Carol: Though she’s also from a more close-minded time, she’s a little less intimidating to tell. For one thing, she’s spent her life since then around a diverse range of space cultures, and for another, she kind of has her own… vibe. And yeah, you were right not to worry, she doesn’t exactly overreact but she’s very obvious in her support.

Bucky: He is surprised, but also curious. When you spend most your life in the 30s and the rest in captivity you don’t learn how to respond to someone coming out to you (at least not in a way he ever would) but he doesn’t do too bad, he clearly isn’t bothered. Actually you coming out sparks his interest in the matter and inspires him to educate himself on queerness in the 21st century.

Yelena: As another queer person, she thinks it’s great, her eyes actually light up as you tell her. Honestly, she’s kind of hoping that you have more experience with things like pride and community than she does because she could really use some guidance, but even if not it’s still nice just to know she has someone who’s like her in her life and hopes that you feel the same way.

Loki: He couldn’t be less fazed if you told him your star sign, frankly. He is quick though, he can see this is important to you. So, wanting you to feel validated he asks some polite follow up questions, he’s happy to let you vent if you want, he’ll even offer some insight as someone a lot more at home in his queer identity if you need it. Plus, the best thing about telling him is that he’s definitely down to …handle… any bigots you’re dealing with.

Valkyrie: She’ll drink to that. Really, she thinks it’s nice, she’s supportive without making a big deal out of it. Though she’s queer herself, she wouldn’t think to offer any advice on the matter because well… she’s kind of a mess, but if you need someone to talk to she’s not a bad listener.

Kate: Despite what an adorably awkward motormouth she can be at times, she’s actually pretty chill about this. She does rush to reassure you that she’s fine with it, especially if you seem nervous, but she’s otherwise relaxed and lets you do most of the talking. It’s not that big of a shock to her really, it’s not like she’s never met other queer people before.

Peter Q: To be for real, most of what her knows about queer people comes from outdated stereotypes, relics from his childhood, and there was probably a time when coming out to him really would of sucked because of that, but he’s matured a lot since then so he takes this in with an open mind and responds with surprising sensitivity and kindness, at least by his standards.

Gamora: She’s been through planets more or less accepting of queerness so she gets the gist, but with how shut-off she’s been you’re still the first (out) queer person she’s known well. You wouldn’t know that though, because she responds very calmly to you coming out and she’s very easy to talk to about it.

Drax: He does not get the big deal. He doesn’t even get what homophobia / transphobia is really, and yet he still manages to say something totally offensive (albeit completely unintentionally) when you come out to him -which he later apologises for. Of course he accepts you, it’s not even a question, and after that first slip up he does make it a point to try and be more respectful …to mixed results.

Groot: He is Groot.

Rocket: He’s not respectful per se, because he never is, but he takes it fine. With all the crazy stuff he’s seen, you’re really not making headlines. He doesn’t know how to communicate it, but he’s sympathetic to the more alienating parts of your experience, especially to bigotry you faced, and he’s the quickest to defend you if ever needed.

[writersblockedx]

Wedded Under War: Chapter Two

Pairing - Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, slight Bestfriend!Steve Rodgers x Reader Summary - When learning you're being pawned of to marry Bucky Barnes, you demand to join the latest meeting. Warnings - Mentions of violence, alcohol use Words - 2.4K

A/n - If anyone would like to be added to a taglist for this series, I'm happy to make one, just let me know :)

< Previous Chapter // Next Chapter > Masterlist

It hadn't taken you long for you to storm out of the office; what else had they expected from you? Your life had suddenly taken a 180. Before now, you were desperate to be a part of the real team, to fight alongside your two closest friends and brother. Instead of that, you got a marriage offer.

You wandered into Tony's living space for one thing only: his bar. One of which consisted of the most expensive aged whiskeys he could get his hands on. And while it may have only been lunch time, you found yourself severing an on the rocks rather than a sandwich. It went down much easier when you were faced with what your future could now hold.

You always liked coming to Tony's. It was spacious and modern. Despite it only made for him and Pepper, it must have had at least three other guest rooms, a party room with pool tables and a dart board. Expensive bottles of alcohol dotted in each room. The perfect place for his many extravagant parties.

"Should have known I'd find you here." A voice broke out. You spun around from the back of the bar, facing Steve as he wandered around the leather sofa to meet you. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way."

You shrugged, "Better than Barnes getting down on one knee." You were certain that would have ended in blood. Instead, you were forced to gaze upon the red mark which still littered Steve's cheek. "Sorry about slapping you."

He too shrugged before taking a seat at one of the barstools, "I deserved it. I should have told you what Tony was thinking." That you couldn't disagree with.

You reached for a clean glass, mixing together another whiskey for Steve. "You're my best friend. I trust you to tell me things my brother is too stupid to." You poured the drink in front of him, sliding it across the copper surface.

"Tony's not stupid," His blue pupils gazed up to your own. "He's protective."

To such, you scoffed. "Protective? Really? That's why he's pawning me off to Barnes like I'm some object."

"No, it's not like that-"

"Really?" You always admired the way Steve was able to keep the peace from within SHIELD. But, now it just seemed frustrating the way he wouldn't see your anger. "I've been begging for him to let me be involved. Instead of handing me a gun, he's handed me a ring and married me off without even asking. It feels like I'm stuck in some 1920s, sexist bullshit!" Quite frankly, you needed to get that out.

Steve practically sighed into his drink before taking a gulp. "If it's any consolation, I don't like the idea either." He offered. "But this is the way we have peace."

"Yeah, and I just have to give up my future." A price that no one else had to pay.

"Not necessarily." He hesitated with his next words, "It might open more opportunities for the job."

While that sounded enticing, you didn't believe it. "You think Barnes is gonna have me helping him out?" You may about to be his wife, but he wouldn't trust a Stark. No matter what legal name connected you.

"We can suggest it." Steve attempted to baragan. "We have a meeting later today at his manor downtown."

"Tony didn't mention that." You commented, taking another sip from your glass.

"Tony didn't want you there." Of course, he didn't. "I think you should be there."

You shook your head, "Tony doesn't want me at a meeting about how my own future." To them, this wasn't your future. It was the future of New York. It was about how they were finally going to bring peace to a city which had been at war with itself for years now. "I'll be there." You decided, chugging the rest of your drink and began to head for your own guest room.

"Y/n!" Steve yelled after you, not moving from the bar. "Don't make a scene."

You felt like if there were any time for scene, it was today.

--

Without another word to your brother or Steve, or even Natasha, you got ready for the meeting you hadn't been invited to. But was certainly one you were determined to pretend. You should have been used to it. No matter the severity of the situation, Tony never left the office door open for you to join during the most important meetings. It seemed your only way to get there was to force your foot in the door.

You exited the guest room, preparing for the argument you were sure to ignite simply by your presence. Instead, you seemed to walk right in on it. The distant sound of Steve and your brother battling against one another. "Tony, this is her future. She's right." You overheard Steve backing your corner.

You kept your figure hidden as your back pressed against the hallway wall which led out into the living area. "You saw her earlier. She's gonna waltz in there with no intention for peace. This entire solution is gonna be tarnished because she can't keep her head." Quite frankly, your definition of peace wasn't marrying Bucky Barnes.

"She deserves to be there." Steve attempted to reason.

"Not yet," You heard Tony reply, causing your eyes to roll. "Not until she's accepted this."

"You know that's never gonna happen."

You chose that as your cue to enter. The sound of your shoes hitting the wooden floors, prompting the men to gaze over at you, the words suddenly falling silent. "He's right." You finally spoke up to break their silence. "I'm not going to accept that the only reasonable solution to all of this was to pawn me off. But I want to be there."

Tony took a cautious step forward, "You can't-"

You cut him off, "No I can. You just just don't trust me to not make a scene." If you were honest, you wouldn't trust yourself either. "Look, I promise not to slap anyone." You gazed over at Steve with your words. "Even if they deserve it."

The two men glanced over at one another. A silent conversation relaying between them; one of which you still weren't a part of. "Wel,l I believe her." Came another voice from the doorway: Natasha. "We don't have time for a debate, Barnes is expecting us."

You smiled towards Natasha; at least she wanted you there. However, it still left the two men who had yet to speak. Tony finally let out a sigh and you knew you had won. He took a step forward, a finger pointed right at you. "Don't make a scene." He warned before leading the way out of his penthouse.

You were left smirking to yourself before Steve offered out his arm for you. "Happy now?" You linked your arm with his own, following Tony out with nothing but a smirk planted on your lips.

The four of you headed into the car, ready for the 30-minute drive to a place you had never been: The Barnes Manor. You'd heard about it from Natasha. Something big and fancy to fill Bucky's ego while still being close to the city - despite the fact he had several properties in the city. You watched as the metropolis skylines swiftly started to change into gated communities and suburban homes. It didn't take you long to spot Barnes' house.

At the end of the street, the biggest house there. A gate which soon opened, revealing the two henchmen stood outside the front door. A garage big enough for at least five cars with a vintage, black chevy parked out front. It was everything you expected it to be: luxury, modern, pristine.

You followed Steve out of the back seat of the car as your head gazed up at the three stories the house contained. You tried your best to act natural, to pretend this was normal to you and your rustic apartment back in the city. The truth was, you'd die for a house this big. To have the ability to have such a luxury.

Tony faced the henchmen first. He nodded and awaited the door to open. Instead, they began patting him down, searching for weapons. They pulled a gun from his inner blazer pocket, "Seriously?" Tony complained.

The henchman straighten his back, "No weapons today."

Natasha and Steve stared and looked before the woman responded. "Will Barnes and his men be following the same rules?"

Their reply was silent. You leaned over to Steve, "We're not really going in unarmed, are we?" You had to check.

Steve simply grasped his own gun and handed it over with a smile. When Natasha did the same, Steve took that as an opportunity to respond, "Just make them think we are." He answered.

So you pulled out your gun from the hem of your jeans and you too handed it over while leaving your dagger safely tucked under your sock. But the man didn't take it. Instead, he turned to look at Tony. "Who is she?"

You could have laughed; even Barnes' men hadn't expected you to be there. "I might be your boss's future wife." You answered ever so sternly before Tony had the chance.

At that, the man took the gun, gazing you up and down. He gave a nod to the other man who opened the door to the house. You barely had a chance to take in the marble floors and the floor-to-ceiling windows before Rumlow was facing you all. "This way," He started before his eyes found your own. "She's here."

You truly were getting tired of how surprised people were at your entrance. "She is." You replied.

"Not a problem is it?" Tony questioned.

Rumlow waited a moment as his gaze lingered. "Not today."

With that, the group of you followed behind Rumlow, passing the grand stairs towards the back of the house. You caught a glimpse of the outside where there was a pool situated, sunbeds and even a bar. This was a level of rich even you hadn't seen. The closest you came to it was Tony's penthouse.

When you entered the meeting room, you spotted Bucky waiting at the head chair, Sam Wilson beside him. Inside this room was different. A slick wooden table and matching chairs. Classic paintings dotted around that you wouldn't be too shocked to know were the authentic. "What took you so long?" Was the first thing you heard Barnes say as he stood from his chair.

He got his answer when his stare finally locked on to you. He had changed a little since you last saw him. His hair was longer, coming down to his neck. His face was now painted with a clean-shaved beard and a scar on his forehead that never fully healed. "Y/n," He stated as he moved closer, offering his hand for you to shake.

You stared between such an offer and Tony's expression. He was silently reminding you to be nice. So you took it, feeling his firm grip grasp your skin once again. "Barnes," You greeted.

When his touch left your own he returned to his seat, "Sit. Let's get to business."

Of course, Tony took the opposite seat to Bucky. Steve and Natasha at either side and you next to Steve. All while Rumlow slipped into the right side of Bucky.  "While the details of the wedding can be sorted out at a later date, we should begin to plan engagement dates, press releases etc-"

"Who said I agreed?" Your words cut through his like a knife. There was silence. Even from Bucky. He wasn't used to people cutting him off so ruthlessly. "I get that you all think it's the best idea, but no one's stopped to tell me what I'm gonna get out of this...partnership." You hated the word marriage. Especially when it was attached to the Barnes name.

Bucky leaned back in his chair, holding his fountain pen between his two fingers. "Look around you, little Stark. Properties, money, travel. What more do you want from this?" The nickname made you tense. It was a common one that had spread around the mobs. And God you hated it.

"Funnily enough, money isn't everything to me."

You felt Steve's knee hit yours at that. A warning for you to choose your next words wisely otherwise either Bucky or Tony might just flip; you weren't sure which was worse. "For once, this isn't about you. This isn't about us. It's about safety." Bucky snapped. "If money isn't enough for you, I should hope your life is. Because if we don't do this, you won't keep that either." He threatened and it should have scared you, but you had the Stark name. That made you untouchable at times.

His words should have stopped you from arguing, "Can't the two of you just sit here, put your egos aside and decide to have peace? Why do we have to have a wedding?"

You heard Sam laughed to himself at such. The room was quiet for a moment. All you could was watch Tony's eyes as they avoided your own, stuck facing the table. "You haven't told her, have you?" Barnes realised. "You're too protective of her, Stark." He commented.

"Told me what?" You pushed.

You felt Steve's hand fall onto your own, "Y/n-"

You snatched away from his touch, leaning your elbows against the wood of the table as you stared across at Bucky. "What?" Your tone was stern, demanding to know what your brother had hidden from you.

"We're not getting married for peace, we're getting married so we look united." He explained.

However, it did little to fill in the gaps. "What-?" You looked between Natasha and Tony who had yet to speak a word. "One of you tell me what's going on!"

Tony sighed before finally daring to meet your pupils. His next words put a shiver through your spine like nothing else ever had. "Tracksuit Mafia are back in town."

And that could only mean, "Kingpin?"

Steve nodded, "Nothing's been confirmed but we'd be stupid to assume he isn't right behind them."

The boss who slayed through cities like a sword. Taking down anything, anyone until he gained the power, leaving nothing but destruction and death. The same man who had taken the life of your parents like it was nothing. And he was on his way. Suddenly, you found that Bucky was right; this wasn't about you anymore. It was about the safety of everyone you had ever cared for.