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swan-of-sunrise · 3 months ago

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Wandavision (The Scarlet Witch Saga, Part I)

Summary: (Y/N) meets with S.W.O.R.D.’s Director Hayward in an attempt to reclaim Vision’s remains for burial but after Wanda makes an unexpected and hostile appearance at their headquarters, both women uncover far more than they’d originally bargained for…

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Hi guys! Sorry it's been so long between stories, but I've been taking care of my mother post-hip replacement surgery and I haven't had very much free time to write. However, I found the time to finish this little angst-filled one-shot up, so yay! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy!

Wandavision Part I of The Scarlet Witch Saga November 2023 S.W.O.R.D. Headquarters, Florida (Superhero Snapshots Masterlist)

“I’m sorry, Mrs. (Y/L/N), but Director Hayward’s itinerary is completely booked-”

“And yet, I was assured over the phone by his secretary that he would finally be available to meet with me today at eleven o’clock, which is…” (Y/N) made a show of pulling back the sleeve of her blouse to look at her watch. “Right now. I don’t appreciate being given the runaround, so I suggest that you give his office another buzz before I come back with a few Avengers; believe me, they won’t be as friendly and accommodating as I am.”

The security guard gulped, snatching up his phone’s handset and hastily punching in the extension to Director Hayward’s office as (Y/N) leaned against his desk and looked up at the towering screens that lined the lobby’s walls. News footage from all across the world played one after the other, each of them depicting families being reunited and celebrations taking place in the wake of the Battle of Earth, and a wistful smile tugged on the corner of her lip. Although it had been nearly three weeks since they’d completed their Time Heist and Bruce utilized the Infinity Stones to bring the Vanished back, she still couldn’t quite believe that they’d done it; Carina, Sam, Bucky and every other friend and teammate they’d lost that traumatic day five years ago in Wakanda was back. But as the news footage changed to coverage of Tony and Natasha’s deaths and all the memorial services being held across the world in their honor, (Y/N)’s smile fell and she quickly averted her gaze from the screens.

In the wake of Tony and Natasha’s deaths, it had fallen to (Y/N) to pay a visit to S.W.O.R.D.’s headquarters in Florida to retrieve Vision’s body and arrange for his burial. Fury had pulled several strings before departing for space and finally managed to uncover where the android’s body was being held, even going so far as to discover that there were several proposed plans floating around the organization to study his remains for the development of high-tech weapons. Since her fellow Avengers were busy helping to re-stabilize Earth and countless other planets across the galaxy and Steve was at home with Carina – and, as far as the rest of the world was concerned, Steve Rogers was presumed dead after the Battle of Earth – (Y/N) volunteered to represent the Avengers in a meeting with Director Tyler Hayward to discuss the return of the fallen Avenger’s body. Now, why do I get the feeling that S.W.O.R.D. isn’t just going to hand over Vis out of the goodness of their hearts, she thought to herself with a frustrated sigh, mindful of the half-healed cut across her stomach (an aggravating physical memento from her brief clash with Thanos) as she straightened her posture and looked out at the bustling lobby.

“Oh shit…” (Y/N) swore under her breath as she spotted none other than Wanda Maximoff striding towards the security guard’s desk; the younger woman’s expression was nothing short of incensed, with her green eyes blazing and her lips pressed into the thinnest of lines, but her expression subtly softened when her gaze landed on (Y/N). With the memory of Wanda’s near-defeat of the Mad Titan still fresh in her mind, she pushed herself off the desk and stepped forward to deescalate the situation before it began. “Wanda, I tried to call but all I got was your voicemail-”

“I was tracking down a lead when you called, and I came down here the moment I listened to your message,” The younger woman interrupted, and she looked around the busy lobby with an air of suspicion. “So, this Director Hayward has agreed to meet with you?”

(Y/N) nodded. “Yes, but now that I’m here, they’re trying to tell me that I was never penciled in and that his schedule’s fully booked for today.”

Wanda’s eyes briefly glowed scarlet as her lip curled up and without another word, she brushed past (Y/N) and stormed up to the security guard’s desk. “I know you have him.”

“I-I’m sorry, but like I already told Mrs. (Y/L/N)-”

“Please…” She trailed off when she spotted the nearest armed guards tighten their grips on their weapons and while (Y/N) cautiously moved to stand beside her, she took a steadying breath and forced herself to calmly continued. “Please. When I came back, he was gone. His body…” Her voice shook with barely-restrained emotion and her fingers anxiously tugged on the cuff of her jacket’s sleeve. “And I know he’s here. He deserves a funeral, at least. I deserve it.”

The security guard’s growing discomfort was alleviated by the ringing of his desk phone; with a barely-perceptible sigh of relief, he snatched up the receiver and listened to the speaker on the other end of the line. “Yes, sir. Yeah, she’s still here.” Out of the corner of her eye, (Y/N) watched Wanda stare intently at the security camera affixed to the wall behind the desk and a shiver ran down her spine; I’ve got a bad feeling about all this, she thought to herself, her fingers anxiously twisting her wedding ring around and around her finger. “Are you sure? O-Of course…” The security guard’s forehead was beaded with sweat as he set the receiver down and looked back up at (Y/N). “Through the doors, down the hall. Two lefts and a right.” Wanda pushed herself off the desk and started towards the guarded double doors off to the side, forcing (Y/N) to flash him a fleeting smile of thanks and hurry after her. “One moment, I have to buzz you in.”

“I got it, thanks!” Wanda’s voice dripped with sarcasm and before anyone could react, she lobbed a ball of scarlet-hued energy towards the locked double doors that forced them open, the walls shuddering as they slammed against them; ignoring the stares of dozens of security personnel, armed guards and employees and the uncomfortable tugging on her stitches, (Y/N) quickened her pace and fell into step with the younger woman. “You disapprove of my methods, don’t you?”

(Y/N) hummed thoughtfully and followed it up with a half-hearted shrug. “Well, they did try to waste my time back there, time that I’d much rather spend with my husband and newly-returned daughter, so I can’t say that I entirely disapprove. But Wanda…” They turned left and continued walking down the hall. “We’ve got to play this carefully. Do you know what S.W.O.R.D. stands for?”

“Honestly, I don’t care,” Wanda snapped, but quickly grew contrite when she caught sight of (Y/N)’s arched brow. “Sorry. What does it stand for?”

“Sentient Weapon Observation and Response Division. A few years ago, they redirected most of their resources to studying and developing robotics, nanotechnology and A.I.; they essentially stopped studying and began to both design and build their own weaponry.” They turned another corner and (Y/N) carefully weighed her words before continuing. “My point is that this organization might’ve once been dedicated to defending Earth from extra-terrestrial and extra-dimensional threats, but they’ve evolved into quite a formidable agency and one that won’t easily bow to external pressure. We’re Avengers and we just saved the world, but that doesn’t mean that things can’t and won’t go south if we burst into this asshat’s office and start making demands.”

Pursing her lips, Wanda ruminated on her statement and as they turned right into an empty hallway, she shook her head in disbelief. “So, you’re suggesting diplomacy for the organization that’s withholding my lover’s corpse from me?”

(Y/N)’s hand reached out to clasp Wanda’s forearm and she succeeded in halting their momentum for a moment; she looked around for any signs of security cameras or employees before lowering her voice and answering, “I’m suggesting self-preservation, Wanda; you know better than anybody how quickly these organizations can turn on someone the moment their interests stop aligning with theirs.” A lump of emotion formed in her throat and just as she’d done for nearly three weeks, she blinked away her tears and forced herself to smile. “Nat’ll come back from wherever she is and personally kick my ass if I let you end up in the Raft again.”

The younger woman’s green eyes softened, and the air hung heavy around them as they both thought about their fallen friend. “She would, wouldn’t she?” Taking a deep breath, she gently pried (Y/N)’s fingers away from her arm and gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “Self-preservation it is.”

They shared a look of understanding before continuing down the hallway and approaching a metal-plated door near its end; the engraved plaque on the wall beside it read ‘Level 101: Director’ and as they came to a stop, the electronic keycard reader below it blinked green and the lock clicked open. (Y/N) straightened her posture and opened the door, stepping into an impressive office and immediately fixing her gaze upon the salt-and-pepper haired man getting up from his desk to greet them. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Wanda Maximoff. It’s an honor to meet you both, truly.” (Y/N) reluctantly shook Director Hayward’s outstretched hand as he gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’d like to offer you my condolences, Mrs. (Y/L/N); your husband was a personal hero of mine, and his loss is a profound tragedy.”

It took a moment for (Y/N) to remember the lie that Nick Fury had helped to propagate and spread from the shadows for the past several weeks: that Steve Rogers was reported missing in action in the wake of the Battle of Earth and was presumed to have died while fighting Thanos. It was the lie they’d crafted together after he’d returned from his final mission de-serumed and steadfast in his desire to retire from the mantle he’d carried for decades in favor of a quiet life with (Y/N) and Carina, but it was a challenging one to maintain when she knew that he was safe at their home in Brooklyn with their daughter. Rearranging her features into a sorrowful expression with the ease of a trained spy, (Y/N) offered the older man a tight smile and nodded. “Thank you, Director.”

“Who are you?” Wanda demanded, her tone sharp and borderline accusatory as she took a step forward and pointedly refused to shake the director’s hand.

Director Hayward took her hostility in stride, lowering his hand and giving her a polite smile. “Director Tyler Hayward. I understand you’re both here to see the Vision – to recover the body, that is – is that right?”

“Well, I’m his next of kin,” She replied and gestured towards (Y/N). “And she’s here acting as the official representative of the Avengers in this matter.”

“I understand. I’d like to show you both something.”

The alarm bells had already begun to go off in (Y/N)’s head, but there was something about his statement and the glint in his eyes that immediately gave her pause. “And then you’ll give him to us?”

Instead of answering, Director Hayward crossed the room and opened a glass door for them to enter. “Please, just come with me.”

(Y/N) and Wanda exchanged a distrustful look before stepping through the doorway and into what appeared to be an observation room comprised of floor-to-ceiling glass windows and a set of armchairs. The buzzing and whirring of power tools nearby quickly drew (Y/N)’s attention, prompting her to walk up to the wall of glass and look down; the scene below reminded her of a mechanic’s garage, with four floodlights illuminating a handful of S.W.O.R.D. personnel dressed in protective gear, who were working to dismantle five separate sections of machinery as armed agents stood guard. The machinery’s unusual shade of maroon and uniquely-shaped panels of silver instantly drew her suspicion, and it only took her a moment to come to the sickening realization that what they were viewing was Vision’s unceremoniously dismembered corpse.

“Oh my God…” (Y/N) covered her mouth and stared down at the grisly scene below in horror, her stomach churning at the desecration of her friend’s body and her heart sinking when she caught a glimpse of Wanda’s confusion in the reflection of the glass as she took a step closer.

“What is this? Why are you showing us this?”

(Y/N) glanced over her shoulder to see a visibly puzzled Director Hayward’s head tilt to the side as he slowly answered, “Because you asked to see it.”

Tears prickled in (Y/N)’s eyes while Wanda looked back down into the laboratory; the color slowly drained from the younger woman’s face and her lip trembled with emotion when one of the S.W.O.R.D. scientists moved and revealed the decapitated head of her lover. A quiet sob escaped her and her hands came up to press against the glass, seemingly unable to tear her eyes away from the synthezoid’s corpse. “Stop…stop…stop it!” She whirled around to face the director. “What are you doing to him?”

“We’re dismantling the most sophisticated, sentient weapon ever made.”

Wanda’s eyes filled with tears as she insistently shook her head. “But Vision’s not a weapon. You can’t do this!”

Unfazed by her emotional reaction, Director Hayward’s lips pursed together in an obvious attempt to appear sympathetic. “In fact, it is our legal and ethical obligation.”

“You know, I could’ve sworn that Vision was created using stolen vibranium from Wakanda, not America.” A surge of white-hot indignation filled (Y/N) as she faced the director and crossed her arms over her chest. “But what the hell do I know? I was only there the day that Ultron bought that vibranium off of Ulysses Klaue in Johannesburg.”

“The Vision signed the Sokovia Accords in 2016. With it, he established his personhood and shortly thereafter took the necessary steps to becoming a naturalized citizen of the United States of America.”

“Seriously, that’s what you’re going with?! You know as well as I do that the Sokovia Accords are currently in the process of being repealed, and all I have to do is call up the King of Wakanda to-”

“I just wanna bury him,” Wanda forcefully interrupted their escalating face off. “That’s all I want.”

Director Hayward’s hazel-colored eyes narrowed as he studied Wanda’s grief-stricken features. “Are you sure?”

A look of incredulity flashed in Wanda’s eyes and while (Y/N)’s brow furrowed in befuddlement, the younger woman recoiled away from the director. “Excuse me?”

“What exactly are you getting at, Director?” (Y/N) demanded.

“Not everyone has the kind of power that could bring their soulmate back online, Mrs. (Y/L/N).” There was a strange cadence in the older man’s voice that quickly put her on edge; seemingly realizing the strangeness of his statement, Director Hayward rearranged his features into a more apologetic expression. “Forgive me. Back to life.”

Wanda shook her head. “No, I-I can’t do that. It’s…that’s not why I’m here.”

“Okay. But I cannot allow you two to take three-billion dollars’ worth of vibranium just to put it in the ground.” While the younger woman turned back around to look down into the bustling laboratory below, (Y/N) paced the floor and shook her head in incredulity. “So, the best I can do is let you say goodbye to him here.”

Wanda’s hands moved to rest against the window as she softly replied, “He’s all that I have.”

“Well, that’s just it, Wanda. He isn’t yours.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to denounce the director’s callous words, but several things caught her attention all at the same time: the look of almost eager anticipation on Director Hayward’s face, the reflection of Wanda’s grief-stricken expression in the glass and the scarlet-hued energy beginning to emanate from the palms of her hands. With only a split-second advantage, (Y/N) spun away from the windows and shielded her head with her arms just as the glass shattered in a deafening explosion; the S.W.O.R.D. agents screamed and ran for cover as they were pelted with fragmented glass, and she could hear the armed guards collectively ready their weapons. (Y/N) lowered her arms in time to watch Wanda wave her glowing crimson hands and descend into the laboratory, seemingly transfixed by the remains of her deceased lover and unaware of the semi-automatic guns pointed directly at her.

“Wanda, no!” (Y/N) hurried over to the very edge of the floor and, ignoring the surge of fear in her stomach that came from her long-standing fear of heights, leaned forward for a closer vantage point.

“Fall back,” Director Hayward ordered, and the guards exchanged cautious glances with one another. “It’s fine. Let her see for herself.”

After a tense moment, the armed guards reluctantly lowered their weapons and steered clear as Wanda slowly approached the table containing Vision’s severed and lifeless head. Watching the younger woman hesitantly stretch her hand out and hover her glowing palm over the crater in her lover’s forehead, (Y/N)’s heart clenched in sympathy and she found herself once again cursing Thanos; although the Mad Titan was dead and gone, with his quest to destroy the universe successfully thwarted and the Infinity Stones returned to their rightful places, the overwhelming pain he’d caused them all would remain, and none would suffer under the weight of their grief more than Wanda Maximoff. By the time she’d reached her mid-twenties, Wanda had already lost her parents, her brother, her country, her mentor and her lover and while the rest of the Avengers could turn to their loved ones for support, she was entirely alone. It’s not fair, (Y/N) thought to herself as she watched the younger woman leave Vision’s side and walk through one of the laboratory’s emergency exits, she’s lost so much already and now she’s being denied the one thing that could possibly give her closure.

“I truly am sorry for your loss, Mrs. (Y/L/N), but seeing as he was a fully sentient synthezoid, I believe that the Vision would not only understand but fully support our good work here.”

The director’s words caused (Y/N)’s jaw to clench in anger and her carefully crafted control over her emotions to finally slip; whirling around to face him, she stood tall and unflinchingly stared him down, her fury only growing the longer she studied the artificial sympathy written across his face. “His name was Vision, just Vision, and you don’t know a damn thing about him. You’re a cruel, egotistical, half-baked warmonger who’d love nothing more than to bring that body down there back online to use as a weapon against anyone S.W.O.R.D. deems a threat.” She snorted in derision as the older man pursed his lips in irritation. “You’re no better than S.H.I E.L.D., Director, and you know as well as I do what’ll happen to your little chop shop down there when the Avengers find out what you’re up to.”

“What Avengers? A third of your group of circus freaks are off-world and a third are dead, leaving a half a dozen powerless and mentally-unstable vigilantes to burden us with their problems,” Director Hayward shot back, and the carefully-constructed façade he’d worn since they’d burst into his office finally fell away to reveal a snide smirk. “So I suggest that you stick to writing books and let the adults take over the protection of this planet.”

(Y/N) took a calculated step forward and stared unflinchingly into the director’s eyes for a moment before finally speaking, her tone calm and collected in contrast to his clear vindictiveness. “Believe it or not, I know what my limits are; after all, what can a best-selling historical-fiction novelist do besides make a few phone calls and write a scathing op-ed in a prestigious newspaper?” A humorless smile curved her lips upwards. “But you’re wrong about us ‘circus freaks,’ Director. Not only does Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes possess the highest security clearance that this country has to offer and is tasked with investigating those that the executive branch of our government suspects of breaking both national and international laws, the King of Wakanda has made it his personal mission to ensure that not an ounce of vibranium leaves his country’s sovereign borders; I’m sure that both men will be interested to learn all about your so-called legal and ethical obligation to horde stolen vibranium and how to attempted to goad a mourning Avenger into weaponizing it for you.”

Director Hayward visibly paled but still managed an incredulous scoff. “Is that a threat, Mrs. (Y/L/N)?”

“No, it’s a promise.” (Y/N) strode past the fuming director and through the observation room’s doorway, the shattered glass crunching beneath her high heels as she walked towards the office’s closed door; she grasped the door’s handle but paused, glancing over her shoulder to give Director Hayward one final glare. “Good luck, Director. You’re going to need it.”

Opening the door with more force than necessary, (Y/N) exited the director’s office and stormed down the hallways until she located the lobby, ignoring the security guard’s feeble farewell as she blinked away her tears of frustration and hurried to the front doors. She emerged out into the bright Floridian sun and was forced to shield her face with her hand in order to scan the packed parking lot for Wanda; spotting a burgundy Buick turning out onto the street and catching sight of the driver’s bold scarlet-hued hair, her heart sank into her stomach and she mentally kicked herself for not being quicker. Now she can add my name to the lengthy list of people who’ve failed Wanda Maximoff, (Y/N) thought as her shoulders dropped in dejection. While she pulled her cell phone out of her purse and texted Stephen Strange’s number, she tried not to linger on the memory of her friend’s heartbroken expression and the pain that had filled her green eyes while she grappled with the agony of losing Vision for a second time.

(Y/N): All finished here, eagerly anticipating a portal to get me the hell out of this godforsaken state S. Strange/The Wizard: Sounds like it went about as well as I’d anticipated… (Y/N): Oh, you have no idea ☹

A sparking orange portal appeared beside (Y/N) and whirled itself open to reveal her living room. Ignoring the handful of S.W.O.R.D. employees that were gawking from inside the building’s headquarters, she stepped through the portal and breathed a sigh of relief when the portal closed itself behind her, leaving her standing in her unruly but blessedly private home. They’d accepted Nick Fury’s offer of living in a temporary safehouse while they healed from their traumatic ordeals and acclimated themselves to civilian life, which meant that for the past week, their home was steadily piling high with taped-up moving boxes while they waited for Fury to finish making the final necessary arrangements for their new house; they’d still maintain ownership of their Brooklyn home, of course, but for the next several months, the Rogers-(Y/L/N) family would be calling the peaceful town of Rockport, Maine their home.

“We’re in here, sunshine,” Steve’s voice emanated from the kitchen. After tossing her purse onto the nearest armchair and kicking off her high heels, (Y/N) padded into the kitchen but froze halfway through the doorway at the unusual sight that she was met with; her husband was perched on a stool at the kitchen island with the sleeve of his shirt rolled up, his nose wrinkled in displeasure as a floating syringe punctured the skin of his small bicep, and Stephen Strange, dressed in full Master of the Mystic Arts regalia, was carefully manipulating the hovering syringe with magic as his blue-green eyes narrowed in concentration. “Bruce dropped off my last round of vaccinations; today’s Tdap, Varicella, MMR and an annual flu shot, so I’m feeling particularly pin-cushioney.”

“Well, I think you’ve been a very brave pin cushion, sweetheart.” With a sympathetic smile, (Y/N) crossed the room to where Steve was seated and kissed his cheek. “And all of your Band-Aids are very cute.”

Steve huffed in exaggerated dissatisfaction and Stephen’s lip curled up into his signature smirk; the sorcerer willed the empty syringe away and magically applied another Paw Patrol Band-Aid onto the former super-soldier’s bicep. “Just think, Rogers, in two weeks you’ll finally be able to be around your daughter without wearing a surgical mask, and your de-serumed life will officially begin.”

“Definitely something to look forward to,” Steve conceded, biting back a wince as he wrapped an arm around (Y/N)’s waist and looked at her expectantly. “How’d your meeting with Director Hayward go?” She grimaced at his question and his expression fell. “That bad, huh?”

(Y/N) shrugged half-heartedly. “Wanda at least showed up but after seeing S.W.O.R.D.’s work firsthand, I wish she hadn’t come at all.”

While she recalled their contentious meeting with Director Hayward, she looked between both men and was struck by their differing reactions to her story; Steve was rightfully enraged on Wanda’s behalf for being denied a sliver of closure and beyond livid when he learned of the organization’s plans for the remains of his former teammate, but Stephen was primarily focused on Director Hayward’s comments regarding Wanda’s powers and the young woman’s momentary loss of control. (Y/N) arched a brow at the sorcerer’s piqued interest but didn’t address it, drawing the conclusion that as a Master of the Mystic Arts, he was naturally curious about powerful beings and their unique skill sets. They were both disgusted by the director’s callous behavior towards her after Wanda departed, with Steve’s jaw clenching tight and Stephen’s eyes narrowing as she spoke, and they both nodded in approval at her biting response to his cold-heartedness.

“I’ll give T’Challa and Rhodey a call to let them know what Hayward’s up to, but I’m afraid that that’s all I can really do.” (Y/N) let out a defeated sigh and twisted her wedding ring around her finger. “Fury made it clear that we can’t afford to draw any unusual attention to ourselves for the time being.”

Steve looked down at the marble countertop as guilt filled his azure eyes. “Because of me.”

“Steve…” Cupping his cheek, she gently coaxed him to look over at her and offered him a small smile of understanding. “After a lifetime spent prioritizing others, you finally chose to prioritize yourself and that shouldn’t make you feel an ounce of guilt. We may not be able to help Wanda ourselves, but we can pass along some very valuable information to the people who will.”

While the former super-soldier returned her smile with one of his own and gave her a chaste kiss, the sorcerer shrugged and leaned back against the kitchen counter. “All I can say is that it’s a real shame this can’t all be solved with a sling-ring, a portal and a little bit of grand theft.”

A soft whimpering began to emanate from the baby monitor resting atop the microwave, drawing (Y/N) and Steve’s immediate attention. “It must be time for Cari’s bottle; I’ll go get her while you start prepping it?” She hummed in agreement, turning to retrieve a clean bottle and a container of formula from the cabinet while Steve approached Stephen with his hand outstretched. “Thank you again for all your help today, Doc.”

“It’s nothing, really. In fact, I should be the one thanking you.” Stephen shook Steve’s hand and chuckled. “I don’t exactly get many opportunities to put my medical degrees to good use, so thanks for that.” After grabbing the baby monitor and donning a fresh surgical mask, Steve left the kitchen and Stephen turned his attention to (Y/N). “I wouldn’t worry too much about Wanda, (Y/N). I’ll keep an eye on her, check in from time to time and make sure she’s doing all right.”

(Y/N) screwed the cap back onto the full bottle and shook it as she studied the older man standing before her, unable to shake the feeling that there was more to his reasoning than selflessness. “You’re concerned about her powers.”

“…I’m more so intrigued by her powers; after all, reckless experimentation with an Infinity Stone somehow imbued her with enough power to nearly kill Thanos and made her one of the most formidable beings on this planet.” Stephen’s quaking fingers withdrew his sling-ring from his pocket and slipped it on with a half-smile. “As the Master of the New York Sanctum Sanctorum, it’s my responsibility to keep a list of every powerful or supernatural person in my general vicinity and after what you’ve just told me, Wanda Maximoff’s shot to the very top of it.”

Biting her lip, (Y/N) watched as the sorcerer waved his hand and created a sparking orange portal that opened into the sanctum’s foyer, contemplating his words before countering them. “I understand. Just don’t…don’t forget that even with all that power, she’s still just a person, Stephen. Promise me?”

“I won’t,” Stephen solemnly vowed, taking a step into the sanctum and turning to give her a small wave. “See you around, (Y/N).”

She smiled and waved back while he closed the portal and in an instant, she was left alone in her kitchen with her daughter’s bottle of formula clutched in her hand. Taking a deep breath, she worked to ground herself and avoid replaying the memories of Wanda’s losses and heartbreaks in her mind, but her effort was for naught; she recalled Clint carrying Pietro Maximoff’s body onto the helicarrier after evacuating Novi Grad, Wanda huddled in the corner of a tiny prison cell with a collar fastened around her neck, Vision using his last words to reassure his distraught lover as she used her powers to destroy him, the anguished cry that echoed throughout the Wakandan clearing when Thanos used the Time Stone to bring Vision back and rip the Mind Stone out of the android’s forehead, the emptiness that remained in Wanda’s eyes throughout Tony and Natasha’s funerals…

“Everything okay out there, baby?”

Shaken out of her memories, (Y/N) wiped away her tears and took another breath before calling back, “I was just seeing Stephen out; I’ll be right there!”

While she made her way through the house to their daughter’s nursery and beamed down at the cooing infant as she took her into her arms and sat down in the room’s rocking chair to feed her her bottle, (Y/N) took solace in the feeling of Steve’s arm draping around her shoulders and the adoration that illuminated Carina’s face. It isn’t fair, she thought again to herself as she absentmindedly hummed the Sokovian lullaby that had been taught to her by Wanda years before, it isn’t fair that we’ve gotten our happily ever after and Wanda’s all alone. With all she’d seen and done throughout the years, it would be foolish not to believe that there wasn’t some sort of higher power out there, so as she was surrounded by her beloved husband and daughter, (Y/N) sent a silent but earnest wish to that power that while she healed from her past traumas, Wanda Maximoff would finally find her own lasting happiness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: All I want is for Wanda to be happy, but I guess the universe continues to have other plans for her :/ Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ziGMhEsAw833GQ9eV44nR?si=6dfead09c76848d5

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babiebom · 2 years ago

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Welcome!!

Masterlist of all my works!

I'm Babie or bom or any other nickname you want i dont mind as long as its nice!

I used to be thee fanfic fairy but decided to rebrand

I'm 24 my mbti is INFP

She/her but I don't mind they/them

My ult boygroups are nct(prefer dream), seventeen, bts, exo, and super junior

Biases: Ten(wayV), Yuta(127), Jeno/Jisung(dream), Hoshi/Scoups/Woozi, Yoongi, Chanyeol, Donghae

My ult girlgroups are blackswan, twice, girls generation, red velvet, Le Sserafim, Kep1er

Biases are Fatou(I love all of them tho), Jihyo, Tiffany, Joy, Yunjin, Bahiyyih/Yujin

I often play video games!

Mainly Stardew, Minecraft, Sims, and Dead by Daylight

Though I do play Apex Legends, GTA, Halo(the old ones its been a while), Valorant(only deathmatch bc people are scary), other simulators

I do like kdramas though I havent seen many recs are appreciated

Same with anime and mangas!!

Remember to press read more for who I write for and my rules!

Who I write for!

📽Tv shows, Movies, and books 📖

MCU

Criminal Minds

Doctor Who

Twilight Saga

Harry Potter

The Walking Dead

The White Lotus

The Outsiders

Once Upon a Time

🖱Games💻

Dead by daylight

Stardew Valley

Mystic Messenger

Five Nights at Freddy's(specifically security breach but others are fine too)

Dream Daddy

Texas Chainsaw Massacre

Mouthwashing(NEW)

🗯Anime🍥

Ouran High School Host Club

Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji

Rules!

Remember these are to keep everything nice and safe!

I currently do not write full on smut, but requesting NSFW things are allowed I do not mind writing suggestive things or mentioning sex it's just writing actual sex scenes as someone who is a virgin seems weird to me

Requests are always open unless stated otherwise, when requesting please do not hound me I am often suffering from writers block but I will get around to it as soon as I possibly can!

No homophobia, transphobia, racism, ableism, or anything of the sort of any kind in comments or tags

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If you have criticism please be polite about it! I accept it but being mean and leaving hateful and mean comments will get you blocked and your comment deleted. No second chances

If you are under the age of 18 please do not interact with my work. Reading it is up to you though I would advise you to be careful with what you ingest online!

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Recommendations are allowed just be kind about opinions and NO SPOILERS PLEASE

I will not write anything nsfw or shipping wise for underage characters

Anything Ouran related is aged up because In my eyes they are adults since I finished the manga

I do not write for Freddy Kreuger. I hate the bitch

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lives-in-midgard · 2 years ago

Text

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 month ago

Text

three times

a/n: some time ago i asked you guys on a poll what dude you wanted in this story and you all chose bucky, so here it is! also, i partly blame you all for how unhinged it turned out... like you get maybe 6,69% of the blame for the push you gave me... the rest is just me being a hoe

summary: a tale of the three times a nurse was kidnapped by new york’s most notorious gang.

warnings: dark!mob boss!bucky barnes x nurse!reader x doctor!peter parker, smut, dark content, noncon/dubcon, mob au, mobsters!steve rogers, clint barton, tony stark, scott lang, bruce banner, the gang is called the avengers, doctor!kate bishop, enemies to lovers, kidnapping, violence, weapons, blood, being drugged, alcohol consumption, possessiveness, kissing, clothed x completely naked, panty sniffing, dirty talk, manhandling, size kink, gaping, belly bulge, oral, fingering, fisting, pussyjob, in bucky's mind it's brat taming, dumbification, impact play, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, somno, bondage, mild knife play, mild gunplay, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cumplay

word count: 11.574

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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You flinched jaggedly as the dark cloth bag was finally ripped off your head. Eyes immediately squinting, they still strained to take in the unfamiliar space you’d been dragged to.

You were no longer in the hospital’s dark parking lot, nor were you in the black van you’d suddenly been tossed into, but instead, you found yourself in a dark living room. It was elegantly decorated, from the Persian rug to the dramatic, antique fireplace flicking behind the cluster of suit-clad criminals glaring down at you.

“This her?” one of them grumbled.

“Yep, one doctor as per your request,” the one who’d abducted you grinned, proudly planting a palm on his hip, “even choose a pretty one just for shits and giggles,” his starkly different mannerisms only made the others seem that much more intimidating.

The broad-figured one with a shock of sandy hair then stepped closer to where you stood, “alright, here’s the thing, doc,” his head tilted slightly to get on your level as he spoke to you directly, “you’re gonna do exactly as we say and then everything will be alright, okay?” he stared in your eyes as you offered him a shaky nod, “okay,” he exhaled, “you got a name?”

“Y/n Y/l/n…” you uttered before hearing yourself try to correct, “but I��…”

“But what?” the same man croaked.

“I-I’m not a doctor…”

“God damn it!” someone rumbled as everyone’s eyes flicked to the man who’d captured you, “we can’t fucking trust the new guy to do anything.”

“Well, she’s wearing scrubs,” he tried, frantically gesturing to your uniform, “I just thought–”

“You fucked up, Lang!” the first man who you’d heard speak barked loudly, “and now we’re not just gonna lose one of our brothers tonight, but also the head of the snake. Great fucking job,” a sharp click then caused your eyes to find the gun he yanked out, “and now she gotta die as well–”

“Wait!” you shrieked as both of your palms shot up in the air, “no! Please don’t kill me! I-I’m a nurse! I’m a nurse! I can help! Whoever’s hurt, I can help!”

Seemingly superior to the others present, the blonde one stared at you intensely for a while before exhaling a verdict, “shit… well, I guess it’s better than nothing…” his polished shoes then began to shuffle before he gestured to you, “come this way.”

Hesitantly, you slowly shadowed him out of the living room, down a dim hallway, and into the chamber that bloomed at the bottom of the corridor. In the centre of the dark room, bathed by two glowing pendants, stood a large pool table, and upon the green felt, with colourful orbs haphazardly scatted all about, there laid a man, unconscious and bleeding.

The brunette’s suit was sodden with crimson, though you couldn’t tell from here how much of it was his own.

The gangster who was standing by the side and watching over the wounded individual glanced up at your arrival and asked his fellow men, “this the doctor?”

“No, it’s a fucking stripper,” you twisted your neck at the sarcastic tone as the guy who’d only moments ago pulled a gun on you waltzed past you and entered the room as well, “yes, of course it is, Tony. How’s the boss?”

“Still alive,” he answered in a sigh and cast his glance back down upon the man on the pool table.

Slowly stepping up, you carefully let your stare wash over the mobster, from the frazzled and blood-soaked attire to the metal-looking hand poking out one of the sleeves.

“What happened?” you asked carefully.

“Miss,” someone grumbled as they set a bag of supplies down beside you on the games table, “just fix him.”

“If you wanna give your friend a better chance, then you give me as much information as possible about what happened to him,” you uttered as you found a pair of gloves and slipped them on.

Letting out a sigh, the blonde fellow then said, “it was a shootout.”

Snatching up a pair of scissors, you began to snip in the man’s clothes, staring at the sleeve closest to you, “how many times was he shot?”

“I don’t know, he–… a lot of rounds went off,” he grunted, the events of the night weighting his broad shoulders down, “I wasn’t exactly counting.”

Two bullets. That’s how many you found when his dress shirt was in tatters on the floor. One was lodged in his right arm four finger widths above his elbow, while the other had strayed a bit further north and buried itself in his bulky bicep. You also found other scrapes and scratches along his torso, assumingly from other bullets that hadn’t been as lucky as those two.

The smallest of relieved sighs flowed from your lungs as you discovered that he wasn’t in a critical enough condition to be in need of a surgeon, at least not from what you could tell with the limited resources currently at your disposal.

As you carefully set to work, first digging the bullets out before cleaning the wounds with saline, your lips slowly parted as you treaded a curved needle, “…so, not that I don’t love the change to my evening plans,” you didn’t dare shift your glance as you asked, “but don’t you have a regular guy for cleaning up these sorts of messes?”

“We did… he died tonight, trying to stop that from happening,” the blonde man gestured to the injuries you began to stitch up.

Blinking up to find his eye, you uttered sincerely, “I’m so sorry for your loss…” feeling yourself, even under such circumstances, uncontrollably slip into those compassionate parts of your profession.

A slight scoff bubbled out of the gangster, taken aback by your unexpected gentleness, “yeah, me too. Banner was one hell of a guy…”

Once each of the wounds were sutured closed and you’d bandaged him up, you pushed yourself back from the pool table.

“Alright,” you exhaled and glanced up at the criminals lurking in the shadows of the chamber, “I’m done.”

“Yeah?” one of them stepped up to get a better look, “he’s alright?”

“No, he’s not alright, he was shot multiple times and should be in a fucking hospital,” your eyes briefly fluttered shut as you heard yourself snap, “now, can I please go home?”

Catching the eye of the blonde one, second in command, you watched as his jaw briefly clenched, the muscles dancing beneath his skin before he breathed, “no, you’re not done.”

“But I did exactly as you asked–”

“Like you said, he should be in a hospital right now, but we can’t have that happen, so instead, you’re gonna stay here till he’s out of the woods.”

“What? I can’t–”

“You’re a nurse, right?” he croaked to shut you up, “so fucking do your job and nurse him back to health.”

Three whole days ended up passing by before Mr Barnes slowly began to regain consciousness.

“Oh, you’re awake!” you snapped back into work mode, springing from your seat and leaning in over the bed which he’d previously been moved into. As the mobster instinctively began to sit up, his eyes barely open yet, you laid a soft palm upon his metal arm and uttered, “sir, please don’t move,” and watched as his clenched jaw almost silenced a groan, “one second, I’ll give you something for the pain,” before you shifted a moment to scavenge through the supplies you’d been given. Once the medicine was found, you exhaled slowly as you injected it, gently pressing down the plunger of the syringe, “there you go…”

You let yourself suck in a deep breath before your sharp eyes washed over him, briefly assessing him as he woke, though as your gaze flickered up to meet his own, initially with the intent of checking his pupillary response, the manner he stared back at you caught you so of guard that a shiver trickled down your spine.

“Sir, do you know what your name is?” you asked in a clear tone.

“Mhm…” he hummed and continued to stare at you as if you were an angel, “Bucky…”

“Bucky, great, that’s good,” you nodded, “and do you know where you are?”

His gaze didn’t shift away from your visage as he then murmured, “heaven…”

“No, I assure you, you’re not dead,” grasping the stethoscope draped around your neck, you shifted it into place to take a quick listen to his heart, “you almost were, a few times, but you aren’t.”

As the steady thumping of his pulse filled your ears and seeped into your soul, his deep voice washed over you once again and layered atop the beat, “I’m guessing you had something to do with that?”

Catching his unwavering eye a moment, you then averted yours and muttered, “I was just doing my job…” before retracting the stethoscope from his chest and casting your glance towards the door, “I should probably go tell the others that you’re awake.”

TWO WEEKS LATER

“…and Mr Jensen in 401 is complaining of a headache, so you might wanna check that out as well.”

“Alright, cool,” the doctor scribbled down the last of your words on the little notepad in his palm before his gaze flickered up to catch yours, “thank you so much, Y/n,” he flashed you a warm smile.

Mirroring his expression, you hugged the charts in your grasp closer to your chest, “any time, Dr Parker.”

“Peter, please,” his thumb extended to click the top of his blue pen before sliding it into the breast pocket of his white coat, “hey, I was gonna go grab a cup of coffee right now, do you wanna join?” he tried to keep his tone casual.

Blinking back at him, your breath couldn’t help but get caught in your throat, “I–, uhm… I’d love to, but I get off in a little bit. Wednesdays are always just morning shifts for me.”

“Oh, alright,” he nodded understandingly, though the gentle rejection still tainted his features slightly.

“But another time,” you offered, successfully brightening his smile once more.

“Yeah?” his elbow curled up to lean against the supportive railing that lined the hospital hallways.

“Sure. I mean, I drink coffee, you drink coffee,” you awkwardly began to dig yourself into a hole, “the chances of us bumping into each other at the coffee cart are pretty high–”

But your sentence was then cut short as Peter’s pager suddenly pinged in his pocket.

Fishing the small device out, his eyes flickered down to the small screen before he croaked, “oh, sorry. I gotta run.”

“Of course,” you swiftly waved a hand and watched as his feet began to shuffle into a run.

“Talk later!” Peter called over his shoulder before he rounded a corner and disappeared into the maze of the hospital.

Twisting around, your feet carried you the remaining distance towards the nurses’ station overlooking the ICU. As you laid the stack of files in your arms down on the counter, a familiar voice found your ears right before her visage popped into your periphery.

“Please tell me that that was what I think it was.”

Your gaze stayed glued on the charts a moment longer as you ignored your friend’s prying, “hello to you too, Kate.”

When your head finally raised and you let her catch your eye, her wide ones questioned you before she expectantly poked once more, “well?”

“Well what?” you shrugged, though your feeble attempts at shutting the pending subject down failed as she shot you a glare, efficiently causing you to crumble with a sigh, “yes, he asked me out again–, or kinda. It was just coffee.”

“And you finally said yes?” she smiled keenly.

Holding back your scoff, you simply uttered, “no,” before spinning on your heel.

“Again?” she shuffled slightly to catch up to the pace you swiftly slipped into, “why not? He’s kind, he’s a doctor, he’s hot,” she listed off, counting on her fingers, “he’s literally perfect for you.”

“I know he is…” you tilted your head, almost with an air of shame, “he’s exactly the type of guy that I should be running after…”

Though you liked him as a person and cared for him enough to call him your friend, those feelings you caught yourself forcing just hadn’t bubbled up yet. He was the kind of man that you deserved, that you should fall for, and certainly not the monster that still haunted you, that for some reason wouldn’t stop popping into your mind, especially at inappropriate times, like very late at night…

“So then why aren’t you?” Kate asked as you entered the employee locker room.

And though thoughts of a gruff gangster caused your heart to swell, you still muttered, “I don’t know…” as an excuse before you popped open your locker and uttered, “hey… what do you know about mobsters here in the city?

“Other than the horror stories I’ve picked up in the ER, not too much,” she leaned against the row of cubbies beside your own as you dug out your bag and began to change out of your scrubs and back into the clothes you’d worn early this morning when the sun was still only a promise waiting to rise, “though I did grow up here, so I probably do know a bit more than you,” she acknowledged your move to the city only a few years prior, “why? Are you suddenly in the mood for a change in careers?”

Though the truth was on the tip of your tongue, you still found yourself obeying the commands the gangsters had sent you home with. Telling the cops was no use because they were all in their pockets, and confiding in a loved one also wasn’t a smart choice as that would only put them in danger.

“Have you ever heard of someone called Bucky Barnes?” you asked, instinctively lowering your voice to a whisper.

The ever light-hearted expression plastered upon Kate’s face fell at the recognition of that name, “yeah…”

“Really?” your brows rose, “what do you know about him?”

“I mean, other than that he’s the supposed leader of the Avengers, not too much.”

“The Avengers?”

“Yeah, one of New York’s most notorious gangs,” she let out a breath, “from what little I know, they get up to a shit ton of stuff straight out of a De Niro movie or something, but their real money maker is cocaine… I mean, that’s why the head of the group is known as the winter soldier.”

“How do you know about all this stuff?” you squinted back at her in slight amazement.

“Went to med school with a few coke heads, might have dated one of them,” she blurted before shaking her head and getting back to the subject at hand, “anyways, Y/n, the point is, you don’t wanna mess with those types, trust me.”

“I know,” you uttered quietly as you shrugged on your coat and pushed your locker closed, “I wasn’t planning on it, I was just curious…”

As you dragged your foaming toothbrush over the last of your teeth, a loud knock suddenly rattled your front door, causing you to jump atop the pink bathmat in your tiny bathroom.

Neck twisted out towards the entryway of your apartment, you briefly leaned over the sink to spit out the toothpaste slowly leaking out of your mouth, before your feet began to carry you towards the exit.

One of your palms momentarily ran over the edge of your pyjama-clad arm as the night chill soaked through the cotton and made you yearn for the warmth of your bed.

Though as you pulled on the handle, the haunting figures on the other side of the door caused your blood to freeze with recognition. Standing tall on the other side of the threshold, there stood two of the Avengers’ henchmen.

“You need to come with us,” the one called Barton ordered coldly. Over the few days the gang had held you captive, you’d picked up on the names of many of the members, including the two that stood before you now.

“What?” your chest rose and fell rapidly, “I–, please, I swear, I haven’t told a soul.”

Having them knock at your door was one thing, but even just the thought of criminals such as them knowing where you lived sent you into a spiral.

“Yeah, we know you haven’t,” Scott put a hand on the doorframe, “that’s not why we’re here.”

“What happened?” you murmured as you were led into one of the many sitting rooms in the mysterious manor they once again brought you to. In an armchair before you, half-empty glass of bourbon in metal hand and the sleeves rolled up on his blood-tainted shirt, there sat the big bad winter soldier himself, panting as he slowly sipped.

Though when the sound of your voice filled the room, Bucky’s eyes only snapped up to yours for a moment before he shot a glare at his men.

“What is she doing here?” he grumbled lowly.

“Boss, you busted your stitches,” Lang gestured tensely to the crimson slowly staining his crisp white shirt, “what else were we–”

Intersecting the conversation, the broad form of Steve stepped into the space between the gangsters and swiftly snuffed the pending argument out, “thank you, Barton, Lang,” he nodded to each of them, “you can go,” and you watched the pair that had brought you back exited the room. Shifting his weight, Bucky’s right hand man turned to you and offered you a polite smile, “Y/n, pleasure to see you again.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, not masking your disdain of the situation you’d been dragged into yet again, “I wish I could say the same…” before you shifted your eyes to the man in the chair, though still directed your question at Steve, “what do you need me to do?”

As you shifted closer to the intimidating leader, ever drinking, surely to dull the pain, Rogers murmured as you kneeled down to assess, “I think it’s just the one on his shoulder that’s–”

“Yeah, I see it,” you cut him off, then glanced back over your shoulder at him, “do you still have that medical bag?”

“Yeah, one second,” he swiftly disappeared to fetch it, leaving you all alone with the feared mob boss.

With the crackling fireplace off to the side as your only source of light, you cautiously raised your hands and asked, “do you mind taking this off?” motioning to the shirt he wore.

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky sighed and sat down his glass before shrugging the item off. Though you’d stared at his bare chest for hours on end before, soaking in his reveal once again for some reason caused your heartbeat to pick up, though you swiftly averted your gaze in an attempt at staying professional.

Not long passed before Rogers had returned with the supplies, and you’d commenced redoing his stitches.

“So,” you murmured though your concentration, weaving his skin back together, “do I even wanna know how this happened?”

Blinking down at you, your face close to your work and therefore his skin, Bucky breathed, “probably not...” and as his stare only intensified over the next few stitches, his low timbre once again washed over you as the corners of his lips tugged into the slightest of smirks, “cute PJs, by the way…”

“Yeah, I didn’t exactly get a chance to change,” you felt your cheeks heat up.

“Oh, I'm not complaining,” his gaze shifted to take in the way the cool night air had caused your nipples to become visible like pebbles beneath the thin stripy fabric, the comment making you shift tensely on your knees.

Once the last of the knots were tied off and you’d snipped the end of the thread, you wrapped the wounds back up with clean bandages before placing the roll of gauze back into the medical bag.

“Alright, uhm,” you shifted back, “you’re good now,” a slight winch shot through you as you watched him briefly test out his arm’s mobility, “just be careful, try not to use it too much.”

Catching your eye, he uttered softly, “thank you,” before shifting his gaze to the gangster by the door, “Rogers?”

“Yes, boss?”

“See to it that she gets home safe.”

ONE MONTH LATER

“I’ve heard the risotto here is really good,” Peter noted as you both skimmed the menus resting on the tablecloth before you, the crystal chandeliers illuminating the restaurant cast a soft glow down upon the choices.

“Yeah?” you briefly glanced up to catch the doctor’s eye, “well, maybe I should get that then,” you shrugged before shifting slightly in your seat, “hey,” you captured his gaze once more, “could you maybe order for me? I just need to–…” you trailed off, letting the thumb you discreetly pointed over your shoulder in the direction of the bathrooms fill out the rest of the sentence.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” he nodded.

“Great, thank you,” you smiled as you rose. The long, cobalt-blue, velvet dress you wore briefly swooshed around your legs before the soft click of your heels against the polished floors carried you through the maze of tables.

It was the third date you’d ventured on with the kind doctor. The third one and yet you still didn’t have any feelings towards him.

Stubbornly trying as you might, you still couldn’t get the poison out of your system and do the right thing.

Once you exited the ladies’ room, and big breath of courage in your lungs as you pushed open the door, it all seeped out as you walked through the small hallway that connected the lavatories with the dining space, and you accidentally bumped into two figures that waited in the space.

Unsure of who was to blame for the collision, you immediately just muttered, “oh, sorry–,” before you glanced up at the pair and your apology crumbled from your lips, your frame immediately freezing up at the recognition.

“Listen to me. You are going to quietly walk back to your little date, tell him that you’re not feeling well and need to go home,” Stark kept his voice hushed as both he and the other gangster slowly cornered you, the other one grasping your arm to keep you in place, “and then you’re gonna come with us.”

Sucking in a breath, you then tilted your chin slightly, “and if I don’t?”

“Then we won’t hesitate to make a scene,” Barton shifted the edge of his jacket out of the way to flash you the gun strapped beneath, “so you can either walk with us and safe a life or you can not only have a dying gangster’s blood on your hands, but also everyone in this fucking restaurant.”

With the clench of your jaw, you glared up at them and murmured, “...fine,” before you ripped your arm free and began to walk back into the dining area and the table where Peter still sat.

Flashing you a smile as you neared, the doctor swiftly said, “so, I ordered this chardonnay that the waiter said was good. You drink wine, right?”

“I–, uhm…” your fingers clutched the back of the chair as you tried to appear as you had before, even though now you felt as if your hammering heart might spring straight out of your ribcage, “Peter, I’m really sorry, but I gotta go,” you briefly scrambled your brain before adding, “the hospital paged me. There was a big accident downtown.”

“Really?” he fished out his own beeper from his pocket and furrowed down at it, “I didn’t get paged, so it probably can’t be that bad.”

“Yeah, but nurses shortage, you know?”

“Right,” he nodded, disappointment slightly polluting his understanding expression.

“I'm really sorry,” you uttered as you picked up your small purse from the chair.

“No, it’s fine,” he shook his head gently, “hey, I get it,” he shrugged before waving a hand, “go.”

“Thank you,” you stood there a moment longer, unsure of how you should depart, “uhm… bye,” before you awkwardly shifted closer to his seat and leaned down to press a brief kiss to his cheek as you offered him a half-hearted hug.

“Who is it this time?” you sighed as you were led into an elegant space, surely intended for parties judging by the long bar that stretched along the back wall. Glaring at the only man seated on one of the barstools, you asked impatiently, “is it you? Did you hurt yourself again?”

Glancing over his shoulder as you halted your stride halfway down the short steps, a smile appeared on Bucky’s face as he leaned a forearm against the bar top and bellowed, “Y/n! Come, have a drink with me,” he waved a hand for you to take the seat beside him.

Standing your ground, you squinted back at him in confusion, “no, I can’t, I–, where’s the patient?”

“The patient?” he echoed as if you were speaking a foreign language.

“Yes,” you huffed, your annoyance simmering into a full-on boil, “the person who’s on death’s door, the reason why I, a medical professional, is here,” you placed your hands on your hips and asked once again, “is it you?”

“No, I’m phenomenal,” he pursed his lips as he snatched up the stout glass waiting for him on the marble counter, “never been better.”

“Okay, so who is it?”

Tearing his gaze away from you, he then uttered, “no one,” before raising the drink up to his lips. As your mouth parted and your glare nearly burned straight through him, the mobster casually added, “you look stunning, by the way,” before twisting in his seat to face you more, “I didn’t know they changed scrubs out with gowns.”

“No, I–, I was on a date–,” you muttered faintly through your confusion, slightly shaking your head in an attempt to clear it before you raised a hand, “wait, excuse me, no one’s injured?”

“No,” Barnes shook his head, “no one’s hurt or dying,” then added as if your reaction was a tad bit too dramatic for his taste, “you can relax, it’s fine.”

But instead, the opposite emotions roiled inside of you as you slowly ascended a single one of the remaining steps, “so you mean to tell me that your men threatened me, my date and a whole restaurant of people, then dragged me all the way out here again, for nothing?” you fumed.

“No, it wasn’t for nothing,” he shrugged, “they brought you back here because I told them to,” he kept his ocean eyes upon you as he once again repeated, “now, come drink with me.”

“No, I don’t want a fucking drink,” you roared.

But then, just as swiftly as you had raised your voice, Bucky’s steely hand dipped beneath his suit jacket and pulled out a gun.

“I asked you nicely,” his stern tone rolled off his tongue slowly as he aimed the weapon upon you, “now sit your ass down and share a drink with me.”

Carefully, you finally followed his orders and sat down at the bar beside him.

“Good girl. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” he uttered as he sat the gun down beside his drink. Raising up a hand to the silent shadow behind the bar, a glass was soon slid across the counter, one Bukcy pushed closer towards you, “here,” he said as you stared down at the orange peel floating at the top. As you lifted up the cocktail, the gangster beside you raised his own to click yours, “cheers.”

You briefly toyed with the thought of just taking a sip, though opted instead to down it all, both out of the desperate hope that the alcohol would aid the strange evening, but also in an attempt to fast forward a tad closer to your longed-for departure, ripping the bandage off instead of nursing it all night long.

Though as you sat the glass back down on the bar, the bottom clanged against the marble much more forcefully than you’d intended as the fingers you clutched it with began to tingle. Blinking heavily a few times, your hand accidentally knocked over the empty drink as a numbing sensation began to bloom within your chest and spread throughout your body.

Trying to get up from your seat, you mumbled foggily, “what the hell?” though quickly stumbled as your legs felt like jelly beneath your velvet gown.

“Whoa, careful now, angel,” Bucky’s calm gaze trailed you chillingly as you tried to steady yourself.

“The fuck did you do?” you panted as your wide eyes watched him raise from his seat.

“It's okay,” he uttered softly, “it’s all gonna be okay,” before your world turned to black and you passed out into his arms.

When you finally stirred, you were no longer at the bar, nor any other room you’d been in before. You were in a bedroom, situated on a spacious mattress and alongside countless fluffy maroon pillows.

As you sat up, a low rustling found your ears and drew your vision down towards the coldness clinging around your ankle. Strung between the bottom corner of the bedframe and your own foot, there shined a chain, one that, try as you instinctively did, you couldn’t snap out of.

But then, as the door to the room creaked open and caused your body to flinch, a plea swiftly flowed out of you as you watched Rogers step inside, balancing a small tray with a glass and a tall decanter of clear water.

“Steve!” you crawled to the bottom of the bed, “I–… help me, please,” you begged, hearing tears thicken up your voice as they rolled down your cheeks, “you’re a good man, deep down I know you don’t wanna stand by and let this happen. Can you unlock me? Please? Help me get out of here.”

But just as you waited for Steve’s lips to part, you instead heard, “shh, don’t waste your breath, honey,” as in strolled Bucky, causing you to swiftly scramble as far back on the bed as the chain would allow.

Sitting down in a chair just out of your reach, the fireplace opposing the bed, directly behind where he sat, clacked and lit up his spine as he settled into the seat and directed his cold gaze upon you.

“Glad to see you awake,” he uttered calmly.

“Fuck you!” you swiftly spat as you hugged your knees tightly to your chest.

“And with all of your charms still intact,” he tilted his head, a light smirk blooming on his lips as your vulgar language hadn’t fazed him one bit.

“Let me go,” you demanded.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen, my angel,” his burly arms folded across his chest, “this is for your own protection,” he briefly gestured to the chain, “we wouldn’t want you to do anything stupid or rash now, would we?” one of his eyebrows twitched, “I can’t let anything happen to you,” he uttered as you continued to stare daggers at him, “you need to be kept as safe as possible so you can keep on helping me the way that you have.”

“What? You want me to be your gang’s personal nurse?” you scoffed, “is this your sick and twisted way of offering me a job, because if so, no thanks!”

“Yeah, no, this isn’t a job offering, I’m not interested in those talents of yours,” he leaned further back in the seat before he began to explain, “you see, for the past few years, I’ve had a serious string of bad luck. Deals have fallen through, rats have been found, the feds have been snipping at our heels and countless of my men have lost their lives,” he listed off, “but, then I met you,” his eyes flickered up to capture your own, “and it all turned around,” he uttered, “I tell you, when you’re here, it’s fate herself is on my side and nothing whatsoever could go wrong. Like having you has made me a fucking god or something, that’s the level of power you’ve bestowed in me,” a faint smile tugged at his lips as those words rolled off his tongue, “so no, you can not leave. You have to stay right here where I can make sure you’re safe and sound. Although, just because you get to be kept safe, that doesn’t mean you’re free of any consequences if you step out of line… it also doesn’t mean that I’ll deny anyone of your beauty if it pleases them… so, I guess it’s more along the lines of you just staying alive under my watch.”

In the blind rage his words threw you into, your fingers wrapped around the bedside lamp before you chucked it across the room. Though just before it could strike the gangster’s head, he casually ducked out of the way, the lamp instead smashing on the floor behind him as a chuckle began to rumble within his chest.

“That’s cute,” he laughed lowly, “you’ve got some bite. It’ll get you in trouble, but it’s adorable.”

“I'm not interested in being your good luck charm, you superstitious fuck!” you yelled as he got up from his seat.

Huffing out a condescending grin, “give it some time, angel,” he fastened the button on his dark suit jacket before smoothing a palm down over the front, “the human psyche is much more fragile than you’d think and can get used to some surprising conditions,” he ignored the scream that desperately tore from your lungs and instead turned to Steve standing by the door and asked him calming, “Rogers, would you mind cleaning that up?” gesturing to the broken lamp on the floor, and as he received a small nod in return, he murmured, “thank you,” before exiting the room and leaving you to your fate.

“Seriously?” Steve let out a laugh when he finally coaxed the truth out as to why you hadn’t been touching any of the food they’d brought you, “and here I thought you were just a picky eater.”

“Well, you’ve already drugged me once so what’s stopping you from doing it again,” you explained, glaring down at the plate before you as he attempted to stifle his laughter.

“I swear, cross my heart, your pasta is not poisoned.”

Continuing to squint down at the food, you kissed your teeth, “prove it.”

“Really?” his brows floated up, “alright,” he sighed as he sat down across from you. Dragging your plate closer, he twirled some of the spaghetti onto the fork before slipping it into his mouth, “see?” he chewed, “I’m fine, and so will you be when you get some food in that belly of yours.”

Pushing it back towards you, hesitantly, you picked up the fork and slowly began to eat. It had only been little things you’d consumed the past couple of days being here, things you could be certain weren’t tainted, like the odd apple and such.

Though as you chewed and finally began to settle your stomach’s nauseating rumbling, tears began to stream down your cheeks.

No matter how hard you tried to beg, none of the mobsters would help you, as their loyalty was just too hard for you to crack.

“Hey…” your bloodshot eyes then flickered up to Rogers as he noticed your weeping, “it’ll get easier, I promise,” he attempted in a soft tone.

“How?” you blinked back at him hopelessly, “I am being locked up in a room by a maniac as if I’m just some trinket for him to own.”

Throwing a brief glance over his shoulder, he then leaned in a bit closer to cautiously advise you, “…there might be some things you could do to change your situation…”

“What?” a spark suddenly flickered within you, “I’d do anything.”

“…you might consider trying to get closer to Barnes…” his words remained hesitant, “…if he begins to care for you, then he might treat you differently…”

“Like, he’d let me go?”

“I don’t know,” he exhaled, “but maybe it could get that chain off your ankle,” he gestured to your foot, “baby steps.”

ONE MONTH LATER

“Here,” Steve croaked as he suddenly burst through the doors to your room, a big flat box in his arms which he tossed on the bed beside you. Peeking inside, a folded-up bundle of black fabric met your eye, “put it on,” he ordered hastily, “make yourself presentable.”

“Why?” you blinked up at him, your brows knitting gently together.

“Because the boss requested it,” he answered impatiently.

“What, he wants to play dress up with me now? Treat me like a doll?”

Over the past month, you had gone from being scared out of your mind, barely sleeping at night, horrified of what they might do to you, till the paralysing fear slowly began to melt away as not much happened at all, in fact so little that you grew bored in your imprisonment, thinking that the big bad gangsters were just all bark and no bite. Perhaps that was a dangerous confidence to develop, growing cocky in your restlessness, but you couldn’t help it.

Letting out a low sigh, “just put it on,” Rogers’ head tilted before he said, “I’ll be outside, yell when you’re done.”

Popping the lid off all the way, you then slipped into the black gown waiting within. It was long and simple in its beauty as it hugged all of your curves like a second skin.

Right before you called out to the mobster in the hallway, you leaned in closer to the mirror on the left side of the room. The dark storm clouds visible out the gothic windows that filled up the wall behind you blossomed in the reflection alongside you as you momentarily fussed with your hair to make it match the elegant dress better.

Once Steve had entered the room once again, the very last thing you expected was what he did next.

Walking straight up to you, without a word, he bent down and unlocked the chain binding you to the bedpost. At first, a wave of hope washed over you till it was drowned out by the unsettling notion as to where he would take you and just what plans were on the horizon.

Grabbing you by the arm, he dragged you out of the room and down the dark hallway you’d only seen glimpses of before. You tried to ask him what was going on, though he didn’t offer you any clue in return, only remained silent as he hauled you through the maze-like manor till a wide set of steps found you, leading you down into a garage where a group of the other gangsters already stood beside the black car rolled up by the base of the stairs.

Standing in the middle with an arm resting against the roof of the vehicle, Bucky’s gaze swiftly landed upon you as you ascended the stone steps.

“Well,” the mob boss’ eyes roamed your form, “don’t you look pretty.”

Biting your tongue, you greeted him politely, “Mr Barnes.”

“Shall we go?” he cracked open one of the car doors.

“Where?” you tried, though your question only caused him to breathe out a smile as he ignored it and instead commanded softly.

“Get in the car, angel,” his metal arm rested atop the door.

Riding in a different vehicle than you, it was Clint who slipped in behind the wheel of your car and drove you the silent route towards the mysterious destination.

Though once the car came to a stop, the door to your left cracked open from the outside and there to greet you was an outstretched metal hand to help you exit.

You didn’t recognise the building that loomed before you, though it was grand and opulent with large steps leading you and all the other arrivals up to what sounded like a party already buzzing on.

“So, you needed a date,” you exhaled as Barnes took your arm and began to lead you up the stairs, a cluster of his men shadowing behind you both.

“No,” he cocked his head, “I didn’t need it...”

Casting your glance around at the other guests that passed, you asked, “what kinda party is this anyway? Let me guess, human trafficking auction?” you were completely serious, though still managed to make the gangster laugh gently.

“It’s a wedding,” his chuckle finished billowing out of his lungs, “or a funeral,” he tilted his head, “I'm not quite sure.”

“How could you not be sure?” you shot him a glance as you reached the top of the steps and he dragged you inside the marbled halls, “there’s a pretty significant difference.”

“They all just kinda melt together at this point,” he sighed, “I have at least one of these a week I gotta show my face at, just out of respect.”

Taking a look around, you uttered, “well, do you at least know who this funeral wedding is for?”

“No fucking clue,” he exhaled before following the signs and leading you into the venue’s ballroom.

Turns out it was a wedding for some couple you hadn’t yet spotted, though you’d already read their names a thousand times with all the stuff they were plastered upon.

You stayed quiet and lingered by Bucky’s side as he shook some people’s hands and made some small talk before the two of you found yourselves seated at one of the many round tables in the hall.

Blinking up at the floral centrepiece, your fingers fiddled with the white tablecloth as the hours rolled by. Soon, not only the complementary glass of champagne you’d been handed back when you arrived was sloshing in your belly, but also quite a bit more alcohol as you decided that was a good tool to make the evening more bearable.

It however also came with the hindrance of boosting your cockiness as you eventually found yourself poking the bear.

“You know for a big bad gangster,” you stared over at him, leaned back in the seat next to yours, “you’re actually not that scary up close,” you pursed your lips, causing a chuckle to rumble within his chest because of just how untrue that statement was, “smiling at everyone, being polite. Are you sure you really are the big bad winter solider? The king of New York with no heart and only an imagination for torture…”

“Well…” he huffed out a short laugh as he met your gaze, “don’t you have me just all figured out.”

“Some of your guys may have filled me in a bit,” you tilted your head.

“Have they now?” he continued to look amused.

“Yeah, well, a bit at least,” you seized your glass and took another sip.

As you placed the flute back down on the table and rested your cheek in a propped-up palm, your stare only intensified into a squint as Bucky’s eyes flickered back around the room.

But as his gaze fluttered back to notice your gawking, he muttered, “what?”

“Why aren’t you mean tonight?” you uttered through the haze fuzzing up your mind.

Tongue flicking out to wet his lips, his eyes briefly dipped before he uttered, “do you want me to be mean?” a playful smirk twitched at the corner of his lip in a threat to appear.

“Is it all just a lie?” you asked, the subtext of his previous words flowing directly over your dizzy head.

“What?”

Squinting back at him, you then breathed, “there’s always a part of me that’s still scared, imagining what you might do to me… but now,” you slowly drew out, “I don’t think you’re actually ever gonna do anything,” you blindly decided, “that’s not really who you are, they’re all just empty threats…”

“Hm…” he hummed, a slight smile blooming upon his lips as he stared back at you, “okay…” before he leaned in closer to utter, “and just what makes you think that I haven’t already?” your face immediately dropped as his words caused your frame to freeze up, “tell me, Y/n,” his breath fanned across your cheeks, “did you sleep well last night? Or the night before for that matter, or–, well, just during the time you’ve spent here with me?”

As your shock not only showed in your expression but also in your complete lack of speech, he simply grinned back at your stunned features before grabbing you by the hand and breaking the moment.

“Come on,” he dragged you with him as he then stood up himself, “let’s dance.”

With an argument on the tip of your tongue, the appendage, just as the rest of you, still remained too dumbfounded for it to come to fruition. You didn’t manage to gather your wits once again till he had you on the middle of the floor, wide hand on your waist as you swayed to the music.

As his hold slowly tightened and he brought you closer to his broad frame, your breath suddenly hitched as you blinked up into his eyes, the air between you growing thick. The hand that grasped your own near swallowed your palm in a dizzying contrast. Goosebumps began to erupt across your skin as you felt your heartbeat thump not only in your chest, but also much further south, a mortifying clue to the dark truth you hoped he didn’t somehow notice.

Gliding his palm up the length of your spine, it came to rest between your shoulder blades as he then drew you in closer and your gaze fell to the band strumming over his shoulder.

“Does the thought of me playing with you at night turn you on?” he whispered in your ear and continued to gently sway you to the music, “because if you want me to wake you, all you have to do is ask. Though my attempts so far at rubbing your luck off on me have been rather eventful, I’m still sure it would be better if you gave me a bit of a hand…”

Tilting your head back to blink up at him, you thought you were gonna spit him in the face for making such an accusation, till your stare acted of its own accord and fluttered down to fixate on his lips.

It almost felt as if they were calling for you, begging you closer like a stubborn magnet. But before you could close the short distance that kept you two apart, Barton appeared in your periphery and tapped his boss on the shoulder.

As he leaned in to whisper in his ear, you couldn’t pick up on the words over the music, though watched as Bucky’s face swiftly grew hard.

“What’s going on?” you asked as the secretive message came to an end and the mobster’s wide hands faded from your frame.

Ignoring your question, Bucky instead cast his glance over your head at one of the men behind you and ordered sternly, “Stark? Get her home, now.”

“What’s happening?” you tried again, though without success as Tony dragged you away and the remaining gathered to converse in hushed tones.

Perhaps it was because of the chaos of whatever was happening, perhaps just a simple mistake, but when you returned back to the manor, the shackle wasn’t reunited with your ankle.

Not willing to let that gift slip through your fingers, you soon grasped that opportunity tight and made an attempt at your escape.

Sneaking down the many hallways, you successfully hid from a handful of gruff-looking men before you realised you couldn’t remember the path to the garage or any other way out of the labyrinth of a building that kept you swallowed in the dark.

However, your mission turned into a swiftly sinking ship as soon as you rounded the wrong corner and crossed the threshold of the last room you should have entered.

In the centre of the space stood two chairs, both with individuals strapped to them, though only one of them was still alive. Before the seated pair and with his back turned to your frozen-up form, there stood Bucky. Returned from the party and with both his jacket and tie torn off, his sleeves were rolled up though still tainted in small crimson flecks of the deed he’d just done.

“Come on, Vladimir…” Barnes uttered as he kneeled down in front of the battered man still breathing, neither he nor the other members in the room haven noticed you in the doorway, “just give me what I want and we can wrap this up.”

Wheezing painfully through his broken nose, the man met Bucky’s steely gaze before fulfilling his request, “…I’m sorry…”

“Hm?” he leaned in pettily, “what was that?”

“I’m sorry,” the tied-up man repeated with a laboured huff.

“Okay, getting there,” he nodded, “what are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry for killing Bruce…” the name rolled off Vladimir’s tongue like a crackle to a bonfire.

“And?” Bucky fished.

“For hurting you…”

“See? That wasn’t so bad now,” Barnes straightened back up, “an apology, a life for the one you took from me, and now there’s just one last thing left to do, and then we’re even,” he then took one step back and conjured his gun. Aiming it at the Russian, barely a second passed before a shot deafened everyone’s ears and a bullet blasted through the tied-up man’s arm, mirroring the injuries Bucky himself had sustained. The loud blast and the bloodcurdling scream that tore from Vladimir, however, caught you so off guard that a shriek slipped from you as you flinched, revealing your presence as everybody’s eyes suddenly shifted to train on you. Glancing over his shoulder, Bucky grunted, “what are you doing out? What is she doing out?” he shot his glare in the direction of Steve off to the side, “Rogers? Get her back into bed.”

“Yes, boss,” his right-hand man swiftly nodded before catching up to you in two long steps and seizing your arm.

And as you were dragged back to your doom, your eyes caught the tail end as Barnes let out a sigh and turned back around to face his victim, “now, where were we? Right! I believe the other one was right around here,” another gunshot echoed in the manor as he shot Vladimir’s arm once more, “and now, we can’t forget about the ones that only skimmed me, so get up and don’t fucking flinch, it’s on you if I hit your lung.”

The chain reunited with your ankle jingled as you twisted on the bed to cast your gaze out the window. Heavy rain hammered against the tall panes as the restless city twinkled through the darkness of the night. In the corner of the room, Steve watched up like a hawk as you continuously failed to find rest.

But then, just as you thought you felt your heartbeat return to a normal rhythm, the double doors burst open and in paced Bucky.

“Is she awake?” he huffed, though didn’t wait for an answer before he heatedly went on, “okay, great.”

As his rushed steps halted by the foot of your bed, the look in his eye caused your body to shudder.

“Rogers?” he kept his cold stare glued on you as he uttered, “go wait outside.”

Though you silently pleaded with your eyes for the mobster to stay, it was no use as Steve swiftly shut the doors behind him.

As the man before you then shifted, your wide eyes finally noticed the bundle of rope in his grasp as he began to unravel it. Scrambling back, you didn’t manage to crawl far away before Bucky caught the chain and yanked it hard enough to force your frame down towards him. Though your struggling finally fizzled out when the gangster pulled out his gun, the very gun he’d just ended a life with, and aimed it at your head to get you to comply.

“You know,” he uttered gruffly like a pent-up bull, “I’ve been nice, I’ve been real well behaved, kept my manners intact, been a goddamn gentleman,” the heavy weapon in his hand tilted slightly to emphasise his words, “but evidently, that’s not what you need to learn your fucking place,” he fumed before letting out a low exhale, “that’s alright…”

“Bucky, please,” tears blurred your vision as you held up your palms, “I-I understand, I’m sorry, you don’t have to do this.”

“Oh, but I do…” he sighed almost softly as he then kneeled down closer and let the tip of the cool barrel stroke your cheek, “…if you don’t break a horse, then she’ll never be tamed…” his eyes trailed after the line he drew before it flickered up to find your own, “now give me your hands,” he ordered and hesitantly, you shakily obeyed.

Since you couldn’t stay in your place, he simply had to tie you down better.

Unfurling the rope in his grasp, the mobster then fastened the cord around not only both of your wrists, but also your free ankle. After each of the tight knots were tied off, he yanked each appendage to the nearest corner of the bedframe, spreading your limbs till you looked like a starfish on the mattress.

Taking a step back to admire his handiwork, his fingers then dipped down into his pocket before a slight furrow found his brow as his touch didn’t locate the item he fished for. Placing the heavy gun in his palm down on the fireplace mantel, he then closed the distance towards the exit and cracked open the door just a smidge.

“Rogers?” he extended a hand through the sliver, “give me your knife,” to which a switchblade was swiftly placed in his palm, replacing his own which was still lodged deeply inside the corpse of the Russian in the other room.

Slamming the door behind him, he then crossed the room and silently began to cut your clothes off. The black gown you still wore came off with only a few slices, though your underwear, that he took his time with, slowly grazing the blade over your goosebump-ridden flesh before nicking the cotton clinging tightly to your frame.

Once you were bare before him, his feet shuffled back slightly as he let his stare soak up every millimetre of you.

A hand floated up to tug on his tie and loosen it slightly from around the collar still dappled with the blood of his enemy. Folding closed the knife with a faint flourish, he then sank down into the armchair directly behind him. The tattered panties he’d sliced from you were still clutched tightly in his hand as his eyes stayed glued upon your frame. Bringing the fabric up to his nose, his blue eyes then fluttered closed for a second as he breathed deeply, letting the scent of you flood his senses.

But as he stuffed the cotton down into his pocket and let his palm drift to somewhere else, your eyes grew even wider as you gasped, “what are you–”

“Just shut up, please,” he groaned, sounding like he was at his very last straw as he brashly began to rub himself through his pants, “just for one fucking second, don’t be a brat.”

Your jaw couldn’t help but hit the floor as he shamelessly pulled out his cock, letting the intimidating hardness spring free of its confines before he spit in his palm and enclosed his fist around the fat girth. You wanted to look away, you truly did, but you just couldn’t, a flaw he obviously noticed.

“You’re unbelievable…” he chuckled as his fist silkily stroked up and down his cock, the mixture of his own spit and the precum beading at the tip caused a sloppy melody to fill the room at each and every twist, “I mean, me being into you, that’s one thing, that makes sense, you’re the closest thing to magic that I’ve ever experienced, so of course that’s enough to get me going, but you… you’re the very textbook definition of a good girl and here you are pining after–, how was it again you put it? A superstitious fuck?”

Stunned at his accusation, you tried to tear your stare away, “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Really? Well, I didn’t take you for a fool, but hey,” he tilted his head, “some folks are just that disconnected to their own feelings.”

Blinking back at him, you scoffed faintly, “you’re crazy, I’m not–…” but you couldn’t even say it out loud as you, deep down, knew that it was a lie.

“Oh yeah?” he cocked a brow, finding your flustered state amusing, “then why did you almost kiss me tonight?”

“I–…I was drunk.”

Letting out a dark chuckle, “alright, sure,” he then rose from his seat and crawled up on the bed with you before he buried his face between your parted thighs, “if you despise me so much, then why are you so fucking wet?” his hot breath fanned across your core.

“I’m not–,” you tried, though your attempt then fell short as he proved you wrong, reaching out his touch to tickle at your lightly and let the wet sounds of your arousal slosh into your soul.

“Hm?” the broad pad of his thumb gently brushed over your glistening petals, making them part for him, “if this isn’t because deep down you want me, then why? I’d love to hear you try and explain your way out of this one…”

“I-I–…” your eyes fluttered as you tried to fight the feeling, “I don’t…”

Laughing lightly through the scoff that then bubbled out of him, he averted his gaze and said, “okay, fine. You wanna play that game?” his eyes flickered back up to find yours, “if you need a bit of help in order to admit the truth, then that’s what you’ll get,” he uttered before suddenly stuffing two of his fingers inside of you.

Craning his neck, he tilted down to catch a taste. You tried to hold back your moans as his digits caressed you, but the softness of his velvety tongue came as such a shock that a little squeak managed to slip out past your lips.

“I mean, if it’s any consolation,” his stubbly chin glimmered with your essence as he retracted slightly to smirk, “I personally think it’s kinda cute that you have a crush on me like a little schoolgirl…”

He then sent his palm down upon your pussy in a wet smack, before repeating the action a couple of times to echo the jolt it shot through your body.

“Fuck…” he groaned in a low rumble, “you are so much more pretty awake…” he revealed casually, “sure, you make some cute noises in your sleep, but not like this,” you instinctually tried to stifle the uncontrollable whimpers that flowed from your lungs, “you should really be thanking me for all of the time and effort I’ve put into stretching this little hole of yours out,” his fingers continued to pump in and out of you, “if I hadn’t, well then you might just split in two when I finally get my cock in there.”

And as he leaned down to lap you up once more, you curled your toes as you felt him push you closer to the edge.

“Mr Barnes…” you attempted with an air of respect through your pants, “please don’t–…”

“Why? Because it makes you want to kiss me again?” he teasingly taunted you before continuing his persistent licks, bullying your clit into submission.

And as he kept going, even as you gasped, “stop–, a-ah!” he still kept his lips locked around your puffy pearl long after a gush of squirt wept around his fingers, keeping his efforts up till your hips were bucking back in sensitivity.

But when his kiss finally ceased, he let some of your juices, that had flooded into his mouth, trickle out past his lips and back down onto your pussy, “fuck…” his low groan nearly caused the whole room to rumble, “nasty little cunt…” before he slapped your throbbing core once more, watching as the last little trickle weakly leaked out and soaked the sheets below.

Lifting himself up to hover above your constricted form, you then squirmed as you felt him nudge the bulbous tip of him against you.

“Does the idea of liking, or even loving, someone like me scare you that much?” he uttered as he gathered up your slick and smeared it with his cock, “does it make you feel all wrong and icky inside that I of all people make you feel the way that you do?”

All of the air in your lungs was then suddenly knocked clean out as he, with one long stroke, slipped all the way inside, before pulling right back out to tap the weight of him against your poor clit with the hold he had at his base.

“You won’t spontaneously combust if you admit it out loud, you know…”

He repeated the motion, plugging you up completely before he denied your cunt the chance of getting used to the stretch.

“I just wanna hear you say it…”

And on the next time he filled you up to the brim, this time his hips didn’t retract.

Reeling as you fought to comprehend the manner his girth split you open, you gasped weakly, “I can’t…”

“Hmm…” his eyes above you narrowed slightly before he pointed out, “that’s not a no,” and he began to move, “finally getting somewhere…”

The gangster was in no way gentle as he started to fuck your pussy, the selfish force of it caused your body to jostle every time his heavy balls tapped against your slick skin, thereby conducting a lewd beat each time he slammed into you.

Lowing himself to get even closer to you, his nose ghosted against your own from the proximity. The gesture made you assume that he was about to press his lips to yours, though they never touched, even as your own instincts overwhelmed you and made you dizzily tilt up to try and close the gap, “nah-ah-ah,” he swiftly clicked his tongue and moved out of your reach, “admit the truth and then I’ll kiss you all you want.”

With his length still embedded deep within you, he sat back up. His fingers dented your hips as he grabbed onto them and then began to sink them harshly down against his own, lifting your frame entirely off of the mattress as he used you like a toy.

“Oh god…” you whimpered as your eyes fluttered down to notice the faint bulge that appeared in your lower abdomen, the thrusting imprint of his size visibly showing just how deep he buried himself inside of you.

Once he’d plopped your hips back down onto the bed, his hands then instead floated up to play with your tits, the rhythm he offered you causing them to jiggle in his palms. Though once he’d fiercely pinched your nipples and parted ways in a brief tap, his fingers then drifted further down south till his right hand found your puffy clit.

Casting his glance down as he rubbed your pearl, a smirk appeared on his lip as he spotted the way your cream coated his girth. Sweeping down to smear his touch against it, what he did next caught you so off guard that you jostled wildly in your binds in an attempt to hit him for his audacity.

“Ahh!” you yelped as he stuffed two of his fingers in your pussy alongside his already overwhelming girth, “Buck, no, it’s too much!”

But your squeak only caused him to chuckle as he stared down at the way your little hole struggled to take what he gave it, clinging around him so tightly that loud groans began to billow from him as he soon painted your insides white and pumped you full of his cum.

With heavy breaths, he withdrew his dick, though let his digits stay inside your warmth.

“Maybe in time you could become more than just my good luck charm…” he murmured as he flopped down to curl closer to your core, “would you like that?” he nipped at one of your thighs as his load slowly began to leak around his thick fingers, “does the idea of me falling down to my knees before you and declaring my undying love entice you, angel?”

“You’ll just have to do better,” he continued as his digits began to twist within you, “let me mould you and make you perfect for me,” another one of his fingers was stuffed inside of you, causing your eyes to flutter, “just let go,” he breathed, “shut off your brain and let it become a leaky mess just like your pussy already is for me,” he worked another digit into your creamy cunt before grazing the last one against your stretched out opening, “you don’t need to think, you just need to do exactly as I tell you to and everything will be okay,” his tone was soft as his thumb curled close to the others and sank into your pussy with a pop, “just break for me, it’s okay,” your body was shaking beneath him as his entire fist slowly twisted within you, “you’ll be so much more perfect ruined…”

Tears were streaming down your face as you unravelled once more, trembling violently as your pussy clamped down around his wide hand so tightly that it was forced all the way out, a drizzle of your nectar once again spraying out at the intensity.

“Alright!” you let out a sob, “alright… I–… I don’t understand it… but, I–…” you caught his eye and confessed, “ever since the moment I met you, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you… even when I fall asleep, it’s like you’re haunting me in my dreams…” a faint shake found your head as you blinked up at him through your blurry vision, “I don’t wanna feel this way. But–… I do.”

It seemed as though time stood still as Bucky stared down at you, an unreadable expression tinting his features before he finally shifted, slowly leaning down over you and inching closer before he finally pressed his lips to your own.

A faint whimper was muffled against his kiss as you felt the world crumble around you.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it now…” he breathed as he ended the soft peck, “say it again,” his hand slid over your jaw, “practice makes perfect.”

Blinking up into his eyes, you uttered from the bottom of your heart, “I am yours,” a single tear rolled down your cheek as you still trembled beneath him.

“Damn right you are…” his lips tilted into a smile.

Fishing out the borrowed switchblade that still rested within the gangster’s pocket, he then sliced through the ropes and constricted you.

Tangling your arms around his neck as you sat up, you captured his lips once again and felt his touch slide down under your ass before he scooped you into his lap. Your sore pussy wept against his cock, once again throbbing and hard as a rock against your core. As your tongue danced against his own, you couldn’t help but scramble even closer, pressing your body impossibly close to his own as you grinded down against him.

“You are mine,” he groaned as he manhandled your frame in his hold and sank you back down onto his fat dick, “you are my most prized possession,” your bodies met in sticky claps as the aftermath of the rough round moments before still oozed all over this one where passion crackled behind both of your own desperate efforts, “I will never let you go,” he blinked up into your eyes as you rode him, both of you clinging to each other as the end crept ever nearer, “always need you–,” his sentence was briefly broken up by a moan as you rolled your hips, your pussy gripping around him and squeezing him tightly, “need you by my side…”

Once your synced-up orgasms had both shuddered your senses and you were sharing each other’s breath, your eyes remained locked as his throbbing cock stayed buried deep within you.

“So, what now?” your chest rose and fell as you whispered into the night, the pitter-patter of rain splashing against your windows once again catching your attention as it swept over and mingled with your laboured pants of breath.

Not shifting his gaze, his eyes briefly scanned your own in search of any ounce of deception, before his fingers dipped down into his pocket and conjured a tiny key, “now,” and he stretched down to undo the chain at your ankle. The click of the lock felt like a gasp of real air was finally filling your depraved lungs, “I take you to my room,” and he manoeuvred you around to slink one arm in behind your knees while the other stayed fast at your spine. As he rose from the bed, he plucked you up with him as well, carrying you in his hold as he exited the bedroom.

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holylulusworld · 10 days ago

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Roll the dice (Prologue)

Summary: You’re in trouble, and it’s all your fault.

Pairing: Mobster!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Warnings: mafia au, angst, mentions of criminal activities, mentions of sickness, mentions of stealing, scared reader, bruises

You’re in trouble, and it’s all your fault.

Stealing from your boss wasn’t the smartest move. Even though you had no other choice.

If you hadn’t taken the money from him, your grandmother would’ve died.

She doesn’t have insurance and needed a life-saving surgery. You worked your ass off, juggling three jobs a day, only to not make ends meet.

When the doctor told you they were going to release your grandmother from the hospital to die, you had to do something—anything.

For only a moment, you lost your mind and did something you’d never have done if not for your grandmother. The woman raising you.

“Ah, there she is,” your boss chuckles when his right-hand man, the one everyone calls executioner, drags you inside his office. The man leans back in his expensive chair, legs spread wide as he runs his hands up and down his thighs. “Where did you hide, little runaway?”

You whimper, feeling another bruise form on your arm, joining the ones the executioner painted your body with. His hands are still covered in the blood of the poor motel owner who dared to try to stop him.

“Got her, Steve,” the man chasing you like feral dogs says as he pushes you toward your boss. Steven Grant Rogers. Stone-cold businessman in public, and merciless mafia boss in the shadows. “Tell me if you want me to get rid of the remnants.”

Sniffling, you surrender to faith. They don’t know about the reasons for your betrayal, and your grandmother is safe. An old friend agreed to take her in and care for her. She was always more than a good friend to your granny, and you know, she’ll keep her word.

Rogers rises from his seat to tower over you. He lifts your chin with his index finger to force you to look into your executioner’s eyes. “So, tell me, was it worth it stealing from me? Did you buy shiny things, a car maybe?”

“She didn’t have anything of value with her. Her car is a wreck, and she got kicked out of her apartment. The rat was hiding at the shadiest motel you can imagine.”

“Buck,” your boss nods. “Thank you for the input. Please bring me the box over there.” Steve says, still holding your gaze. He searches your face, enjoying the fear in your eyes and how your lips tremble.

“Got it,” Bucky gets a little black box. Instead of handing it to your boss, he places it in front of you. “I hope you enjoy the last moments of your life, little rat.” He chuckles before leaving the room.

“You know, I’m a player.” Steve flashes you a smile, but it doesn’t reach his cold blue eyes. “Rats like you have two options. You can accept your fate, and I’ll kill you fast, or you can open the box and take whatever punishment you’ll find inside.”

“What?” You furrow your brows. Steve Rogers will kill you either way. There is not a chance he’ll show mercy and let you go.

“I like to play,” he repeats. “I only play with people who didn’t steal from me for themselves or selfish reasons,” Steve smirks when you whimper again. “I know about your grandmother and where I can find her.”

You suck in a breath. “Please, I’ll do anything. Torture me, kill me. I don’t care.” You cry. “She didn’t know. I swear, Granny believes I got a promotion. Please…” You beg and plead.

“Well then, choose the box, and I’ll shelter your grandmother’s life,” he snarls. “If not, she’ll die with you tonight.”

Steve hides that he doesn’t kill grannies. He has standards and rules.

With trembling fingers, you open the box. All that you find is a red dice. It doesn’t look different from the ones you handled at the casino, though.

“Oh, the dice?” He smirks darkly and crouches down to cup your face. “You got lucky, doll. If you get a six, you are free to go.”

“What about the other numbers?” You whisper, afraid to speak louder. “Sir?”

“Every other number means fun for me,” he laughs as you make a face. “Go ahead, doll. Roll the dice.”

You grab the dice and roll it without thinking twice. Holding your breath, you watch it land on…

If you want to read more, we see us in 2025…

Read more here: Part 1

Tags in reblog.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #x reader #mafia au #Roll the dice #mobster!steve rogers

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ussgallifrey · 7 months ago

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Meeting Point

✦ Summary: In a world full of soulmates with destined meeting points, Steve Rogers' mark had always been a point of heartbreak. Until he woke up in the 21st Century; that's when his hope was rekindled.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Word Count: 1,815

✦ Author's Note: Do you ever have a dream that just fully re-alters your brain chemistry? Yeah, I had a killer dream last night that sparked my love for the Soulmate AU to return. Prepare to be bombarded by soulmate stories over the next few weeks.

The mark on Steve Rogers’ wrist starts to make a lot more sense when he wakes up in the 21st century.

It came back to him, slowly at first, after he was returned to SHIELD’s headquarters. After he was subjected to a myriad of tests from doctors and a few uncomfortable conversations with an in-house counselor. When, only after Director Fury sent him upstate to a place called The Retreat - until the media attention dies down, Captain. I’m sure you understand - that Steve even had a second to think about that silly old mark on his wrist.

For the first time in five days and some technical sixty-seven years, Steve is alone. Not surrounded by agents or doctors or scientists. Not a single camera or reporter in sight. It’s just him and the cabin he was delivered to.

When he pulls off his jacket and finally catches a glimpse at the familiar black marking there. That’s when he allows himself a second to actually slow down and think about it. The chaotic world of the twenty-first century finally fades away from the edges of his peripheral, and he sees the one grounding thing that still remains in his life.

There, in elegant script reads a simple date:

06. 29. 2019

And for the first time in hours, days, years, Steve can feel the hint of a smile trying to turn up his chapped lips.

He could have never imagined. Not all those years ago, back in Brooklyn. There was an honest-to-God chance now.

So, he draws his fingers along the familiar trace of numbers and sets to work.

Back when those numbers first appeared, Steve had only felt immediate heartbreak. His Ma’s pitying eyes had been the only thing keeping his chin up at that point. At least he had someone out there, even if he would only get to spend a short time with them. And maybe that was what kept his head above water through all of his childhood illnesses and bouts. The fact that he would survive this hell because it was literally destined that he would live to 100.

Oh sure, the other kids on his street had the normal marks.

Six years more, three weeks, two days. That was the typical lay of the land. So, when kids started asking about his date, his numbers, Steve would just curl up his wrist and clamp his right hand down over the text. It was no one’s business but his own.

But now that date finally made sense. He was only twenty-six, no matter what his actual birthdate was. He was physically still just a young man. He wasn’t going to meet the love of his life on his deathbed. Maybe this was just the universe’s way of apologizing to him; for making him lose everything else, but in return he would get the one thing anyone ever really wanted.

Seven years. He could wait seven years.

It’s a sick sort of relief when he sees those numbers still engraved on his wrist after the Snap. He’s not entirely sure if he expected them to fade away when half of the universe was turned to dust, but it’s probably the only bit of hope that’s keeping him from drowning under the guilt and sorrow that the rest of the team is.

Never one to stand down, to give up the fight, Steve keeps himself going in whatever way he can. Whether the people still want Captain America’s help is another story. But he finds different ways to assist, to be a help, to make up for the wrongs.

And soon the calendar months are passing by and life continues on within the aftermath of near-total destruction.

Only Natasha and him remain behind in the old compound. The others have moved to make their own paths in the new world marred by their own collective failures. He stares at the desktop calendar in front of him as Nat wraps up another weekly virtual conference with the team outside of New York.

Okoye, Rhodes, and Danvers disappear in a shimmer of cascading blue light. Nat’s too focused on writing down notes to notice that Nebula remains silent, stoic, observing them both.

Steve sits up, “Was there something else?”

The assassin beside him looks up, finally noticing the alien.

She raises her chin, “We’ll be returning soon. Within the week. He says he found something of value, worth looking into anyway.”

He glances over at Nat, who merely nods, “Okay. We’ll plan for that then.”

And then she’s gone, stepping away from the camera as the lights dim and the two are drenched back into the light of the otherwise empty compound.

Natasha clicks the pen against the table a few times before she merely rolls it away from her notebook, settling back into her chair with crossed arms.

Steve rubs at his left wrist.

Nebula and Rocket arrive late Friday night. Steve’s only just gotten back to the compound - fresh out of a shower after removing shards of glass from his bicep. While half of the population had disappeared a year ago, crime hadn’t gone away. Hell, it probably got worse, in all honesty. And Steve had the nasty habit of throwing himself into everything and anything without backup around these days.

Tonight had been no different. Another wannabe small-time crime lord in the making, building an empire through the streets of New York. Steve liked to remind them that there was still at least one person on the planet who noticed.

He should have taken it a little easier on himself though, with tomorrow drawing near. That was the day, the destined date of his meeting. And he probably shouldn’t look like a complete mess on the day he’s set to meet his soulmate. His other half.

As he flexes his knuckles, peering down at the bits of dried blood under his nail beds that hadn’t come clean in the shower, the entire compound begins to quake. He looks at his reflection in the mirror above the sink, a familiar sinking feeling settling deep into his stomach as he recalls the night Tony and Nebula came to Earth.

Without a second thought, he nabs his shirt from the edge of the sink and takes off toward the courtyard. Their ship is already parked there, with Rocket on the ramp and Nebla looking up toward the stars with Nat. Steve slows his pace as he moves to join them, staring up in slight wonder at the yellow and blue ship descending above them.

The seven wings of the ship spread out in a pattern that looks almost star-like against the deep black background of the night sky. The wheels settle into the grass as the engines hum into powering down.

“ - in the Draconis Sector,” Nebula continues whatever it was she was previously saying to Nat. “Only Star Blaster in sight.”

Steve stares up at the impressive ship. The wings give it an added height over the Benatar that’s parked next to it. It takes a minute for the pilot, the person they told them would be coming along with them, the person that could be of use, to exit the ship.

He straightens up as the armored figure comes into view. Royal blue and gold metal, with radiant lights that remind him of the Arc Reactor, light up the space around them all as the person draws near.

“Hey, pipsqueak,” comes the slightly muffled voice.

Rocket sneers in return, Nebula looks surprisingly amused as the woman moves to grab hold of the alien’s hand.

“Not a bad place,” she then addresses Natasha.

And then her helmeted face turns to assess the supersoldier. She takes a step forward, then another while Steve settles his hands on his belt.

Grabbing hold of her matching blue and gold helmet, she pulls it free from her head. Steve can feel an actual breath escape his lips.

“And you must be…?”

He swallows, extends his hand, “Steve.”

Her smile wanes and her grasp on his hand loosens to the point that she merely drops her hand back to her side. Steve wonders if he’s made some kind of faux pas as she tucks her helmet against her left hip.

“You know…” she shakes her head, a smile beginning to reform, “I was really wondering when I’d get around to meeting you.”

She looks up at him with playful eyes as she begins pulling back the sleeve on her left hand.

“Rogers, right? Steven Grant Rogers?”

He kind of gapes before forcing himself to nod as his eyes travel down to her now-exposed wrist. She twists it around for him to see, and sure enough, there in a familiar scrawl of handwriting sits his name.

His own left wrist itches in anticipation as he wordlessly lifts it up for her to see the date of their meeting - now sometime after midnight on the 29th.

“Huh,” she quips, dropping her hand in favor of taking hold of his as she peers at the numbers. “Must be a fluke - different world, different systems. Alien names.”

He just nods, again, as all words have seemingly escaped his reach. And then he looks over at the others, Rocket with a tilted head and Nat with her knowing smirk.

But you’re not plexed, as you continue to investigate the date - your fingers tracing the lines of each number, “When you grow up on a world full of Kerlaans and Vastalls, Steven’s kind of out there, you know?”

Then you drop your hand after suddenly taking stock of the captive audience around you. Steve craves the ghost of your touch as soon as it’s gone.

“Sorry,” you sheepishly smile, rubbing at the back of your neck with your free hand. “I’m Velariun Kaal, ex-Centurion of the Nova Corps. And… I’m just here to help in whatever way I can really. Meeting you was just the bonus,” you finish with a wink.

“It’s good to finally meet you too,” he finally says at last, eyes drifting across the soft features of your face.

“So,” you smile, gently moving away from the others - toward the compound. Steve’s in step with you just a beat later. “How long have you had those numbers there?”

He can’t help but chuckle, the first real laugh in nearly a year. “You honestly don’t even want to know.”

“There’s a story there,” your eyes find his in the darkness of night. Glistening starlight illuminates your irises, like swirling galaxies.

He nods, “There is.”

“Worth the wait though?” you ask, with a clinch of hope in your voice.

Steve stops where he is.

You fall back a step to meet him.

He reaches his hand down, slowly entwining your hands together. He can feel the warmth of your skin, the slow and steady pulse of your beating heart.

“Definitely worth the wait,” he murmurs.

#steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers oneshot #marvel fan fic #my fic

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ozwriterchick · 2 months ago

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Back to Us - Chapter 1

Summary: Y'/n wakes after an accident to her Avengers team-mates. But something isn't quite right and only Steve and Tony can see it.

Characters/Relationships: Steve Rogers x Reader; Tony Stark; Natasha Romanoff; Other Avengers Characters

Content warnings: Mentions of an accident (no details yet); If I missed any, let me know

Back to Us Masterlist

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Word count: 1030 (approx.)

Present Day, Stark County Hospital

The monitor beep droned on and on. 10 days they’d been waiting for you to wake up.

The Avengers were there as well, in the - thanks to Tony Stark - not so small hospital room which still seemed too crowded. They were all praying that you would wake up soon. Some were re-living their part in what had occurred and trying to work out if they could have done anything differently.

Others were thinking back over the last few years they had known you and re-visiting all the wonderful memories you’d made together.

Steve sat in the chair closest to the bed, his head in his hands as he tried to reconcile what was happening. He was hoping that you would wake up soon. The doctor had told them that your brain and body needed the rest and the longer it let you do that, the better it was all round. Steve wasn’t sure he believed that but he put his faith in the medical experts that were looking after you 24/7.

All of a sudden Steve’s head shot up. He was sure he’d just felt you move your hand. Your hand that had been still for the last 10 days. He watched and waited for it to happen again. Just as he was about to give up in despair, your hand moved on the bed.

He called out your name, leading the rest of the Avengers to look up and also see your hand moving. Next you gingerly opened your eyes, a little at a time, the lights glaring down on you making you squint after having them closed for so long.

“She’s awake, I’ll go get the doctor” Steve almost yelled, leaping out of his chair and heading out the door of your room.

You winced as he did so, your head hurting just a bit, you imagined from being asleep for so long. You wondered how long you had been asleep and moreso, how you got here in the first place.

“Hey kid, how do you feel?” Tony asked.

“Like I got hit by a truck. What happened?” you asked, looking around the room at all the expectant faces around you. “And what are you all doing here?”

Tony levelled his gaze at you, as if trying to decide how much to share right now. His decision was easy really – you’d just woken up, you didn’t need to hear a lot of the gory details of what happened.

“Never mind that right now, we’ll de-brief once you’re back at the compound. You need to concentrate on getting back to 100%” he said.

The door to your room opened and you looked up to see Nat wandering in with a cup of coffee in her hand. Your mouth salivated and you hoped she’d brought it for you but that hope deflated when you saw her raise the cup to her lips.

“Hey Y/n” she said. “It’s good to see you awake. Oh and sorry, doc says no coffee for you just yet” and with that, she downed the rest of the black liquid. “Don’t worry, when you can have coffee, I’ll get you a proper one, not this hospital stuff.”

You chuckled at her, your head still hurting just a smidge. “How long was I out?” you asked?

Before she had a chance to respond, Steve returned with the Doctor, who greeted you with a smile on his face, and in his voice. “Well, good morning sleepy head. So, you’ve been in a coma since the accident. It’s been about 10 days so far.”

You looked around at your team-mates in the room. “Accident? Tony, what happened?”

“Let’s not worry about that right now” the Doctor said. Turning to the others, “Ok, now that she’s awake, you all have to leave so we can run some more tests.”

Steve looked back at the Doctor and responded. “I’m staying.”

“Me too” came from Tony.

The Doctor shook his head and told them all again that Y/n needed some rest and that they could all come back later, once all the tests were run and that maybe he’d have some more information about her progress.

Tony rolled his eyes and said “If you insist Doc. Y/n, we’ll be back.”

She looked back at him, with fondness in her eyes. “Yes, please go, do something productive. I’m sure you all have better things to do than baby-sit me.”

Steve looked at you softly. “At least one of us has been here 24/7 since the accident.”

Noticing the change in his expression and voice, Y/n replied “Wow, I thought you all had other things going on in your lives. I’ll be fine, right Doc?”

The Doctor nodded. “Besides, sitting around here while I’m in and out of the room, having who knows what tests and being poked and prodded will be no fun for anyone, including me. And if I know I’m keeping you from the important things in your life, I’d be very annoyed.” Y/n continued.

Tony’s eyes narrowed as he listened to what you were saying and something clicked in his brain.

Steve started to protest “But Y/n, you are…”

“Ok Avengers, let’s go” he interrupted Steve. “You too Cap.”

The rest of the Avengers say goodbye one by one and walk out, leaving just you, Tony & Steve in the room with the Doctor.

You could see Steve’s reluctance to leave, which was so like him, he really looked after his team in all areas of their lives. “Captain Rogers, your watch here has ended, you can go too. I’m sure you have some hot date to get to” she teased.

Steve exchanged a concerned glance with Tony who nodded slightly. Kissing you on the forehead, he left the room.

“I’m glad you’re awake Y/n” Steve began. “We’ll talk more once you’ve had your tests.” With that, he leaned in and you noticed a moment’s hesitation from him before he landed a kiss on your cheek and walked out the door.

You were left a little confused because that was a very personal gesture that you'd expect from Tony, but that was not like Steve at all.

Chapter 2

Tag List: @wolfbeanpotion

#steve rogers #ozwriterchick #angst #marvel #Reader #Steve Rogers x Y/n #Fluff #Tony Stark #Natasha Romanoff #James Bucky Barnes #back to us

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softspace-fics · 6 months ago

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Masterlist!

Will be updated as i post new stories!

Requests can be made on my page. Fandoms you can request for are in my introduction.

Agere - 🍼

Romance - 🥰

Angst - 🥀

Fluff - 💖

Other - 👀

Marvel Loki Laufeyson 🐍 Its okay, Dada's here 🍼 🥀

It's hard. 🍼🥀 Loki helps his disabled little take a shower Thor Odinson ⚡ Doctor Strange🧿 Iron Man (Tony Stark) 💸 Heimdall 👁️ Captain America (Steve Rogers) 🗽 The Falcon (Sam Wilson)🦅 Winter Soldier (Bucky Barnes)🦾

No princess, your perfect. 🍼🥀 - Reader feels as if theyre not right for bucky (Plus sized reader!)

You mean to much.🍼🥀 - Reader feels embarrassed about their bad thoughts. Vision🤖 Wanda✨ Hawkeye (Clint Barton)🏹

Bath time! 🍼💖 - Your baba and you have a fun time as you get your bath for the night. Rhodes🦿 Star Lord (Peter Quill)🔫

Never gone 🥀🍼 Black Widow (Natasha Romanoff)🕷️ The Hulk (Bruce Banner)💚 Spider-Man (Peter Parker *Tom, Andrew or Tobey!*)🕸️ Multi-Character fics Stucky💞 Wind down 🍼 Stucky x reader Movie Night! 🍼 💖Stucky x Reader

Knowing 🥀 Steve Rogers x James "Bucky" Barnes

Shopping! 🍼💖 Asgardian brothers (Loki + Thor) x Little!plus sized reader

His to cherish 🍼💖 - Stucky x baby-toddler space gn!littler

Senses 🍼💖🥀🥰 - Stucky, but mainly bucky. Bucky learns to fully trust gn!reader

Cabin time! 🍼💖 - Who doesn't love some tea and cabin time?

Hurts. 🍼🥀 - Stucky lets disabled!little reader know that they'll be there even though reader has bad health.

Homework🍼🥀- Reader invoulintarily regresses due to homework stress.

Butterfly kisses 🍼💖🥰 - Stucky loves to give you and eachother butterfly kisses as your morning begins

Nightmares 🍼🥀 -Steve x Little!bucky, bucky had a nightmare and Steve helps him through it.

Pumpkin patch 🍼💖 - Dada and Papa take baby to the pumpkin patch!

Cookies! 🍼💖 - Baby and Dada bucky make cookies for Papa Steve when he gets home!

Christmas morning 🍼💖🌲 - What awaits you as the most magical day arrives?

Strangetony❤️💛

Safe place 🍼💖 - Some never get a safe place, but you have yours.

Other mixes

Steve Rogers + Peter Parker + gn!little reader

Sickie🍼🥀 - Reader falls ill and their two cgs worry. (Platonic CGS!)

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galatially · 2 years ago

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❝𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐨�� 𝐲𝐨𝐮❞

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 / 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐈: truthfully

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 x 𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫!𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 — and if i could say anything, i would say that it will always be you; it's hard being in love with your coworkers

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 — 560

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — strong language, pining, general fluff

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — this was, at one point, just gonna be one part but it's far too much story for just one part lol

Steve Rogers was a menace — and he didn’t even know it.

When you’d met the First Avenger, as expected, you’d been taken aback at just how…bright he was. Everything about him was bright and warm and nestled between your ribcage like a kitten cuddled into its mother. He was always sweet and polite, never without a smile on his face when you spoke, completely different from the kind of men you’d come across in your lifetime.

And damn you for being so aware of him. Whether he came into the med bay or popped his head into you and Dr. Helen Cho’s shared office, your senses heightened. You noticed the lilt of his words or the one stray hair that was always hanging between his brows in a boy-next-door kind of way. Only people that didn’t realize their effects on others spoke like that, unfazed.

You’d intellectualized your feelings as normal chemical reactions in the brain: the muscle simply going through the machinations of being around someone attractive. Dopamine, norepinephrine cortisol, and the serotinergic system working in tandem. Simple explanations for simple reactions.

You’re a woman of science, after all.

“Bitch, just fuck him and move on,” your best friend, Serena, said, her eye roll coloring her tone.

You cradled your cell phone between your cheek and your ear as your grabbed a bottle of wine from your fridge. “I like my job, Rena.”

“And what does that have to do with letting that fine specimen of man break your back into next year?”

An airy laugh left your chest. “He doesn’t see me in that way and I’m not some lovesick teenager.”

“Nat says that he asks about you all the time.”

“Your girlfriend also took six months to ask you out,” you countered. You worked the cork out of the mouth of the bottle and poured a hefty glass.

Serena let out a dreamy sigh. “I know, right? She’s so precious.”

“I’m telling her you said that.”

“And I’m telling you that you need to make your move and ride that — ”

“Good night, Serena,” you said, disconnecting the call. You took a sip of wine, mulling over your best friend’s words. As embarrassing as it was to admit, your crush on Steve — obvious or not — could never be. You both worked together and he was…well, him. If the two of you were to break up, it’d be the only thing people talked about. No longer would you be a decorated private physician, you’d be the woman that got dumped by Captain America.

Your phone buzzed again; a text from the golden man in question.

I hope you had a good day today :)

One day, when you were bold enough, you’d get Natasha Romanoff right in the jaw for giving Steve your number. He’d only recently started messaging you and every notification made your stomach flip in a way that you could only describe as violent.

You chewed the inside of your cheek as your fingers slowly typed out a response.

I did! How was —

No, too eager.

Oh, you know, just another day in the bay! :):)

You almost threw your phone at that one. What was this, fourth grade?

I hope you had a good day, too, Captain :)

You turned your phone on its face and groaned out loud.

You really fucking hated liking Steve Rogers.

𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — are y'all ready for my interpretation on "they only shared one bed"?

#galatially #painting every color for you #painting every color for you series #truthfully #steve rogers #steve rogers x black!reader #doctor!black!reader #captain america #captain america x black!reader #captain america x doctor!black!reader

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anika-ann · 9 months ago

Text

Back and Forth - part 6.2

Part 6 - Back-Up 2/2

Type: series; agent!reader, inhuman!reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 14500 (cough-)

Chapter summary: In which it's your turn to look back at the events at the Hydra base and have a revelation or two. And some of these involve a certain Captain.

Series masterlist

Warnings: blood, mentions of canon-typical violence and injuries and possible death, unhealthy relationship with pain, mentions of chronic illness, issues with self-worth as a courtesy of a completely shitty parenting, language, feels and fluff ✨ Please, let me know any time if you think I missed any!

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

A/N2: hello, loves, thank you for your patience and enjoy nearly 15k worth of words. Ehm. If you want to break it into two parts, I recommend you to do so at the change in POV (but know that it's in like 2/3 of this part 🥲) Enjoy ✨

The swirl of delicate fabric around your ankles came with a soft swooshing sound, a faint glimmer catching your eye as the light reflected off the sparkles peppering your dress. Warm hand between your shoulder blades holding you securely to a firm body, the other cradling your hand gently. Gaze trailing from the bowtie over the faintest hint of stubble and plush lips curled in a barely-there warm smile, bright eyes soft with affection that still sent butterflies flipping their wings like mad in your stomach. The subtle caress of his thumb over the silver of skin revealed by the tiny opening of the dress on your back causing you to shudder, heat pooling in your abdomen.

He noticed the effect his minute touch had on you. He must have, the loveable bastard, because his smile earned the familiar innocently wicked edge, his pupils dilating just a fraction, his thigh slipping between yours further with the next step, firm muscle feeling like a teasing taste of heaven against your centre.

“Steve-“

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” he whispered, lips at your ear, brushing down the sensitive skin of the column of your throat, the masculine scent of him enveloping your senses, your head tipping back to make space for his demanding lips. The graze of his teeth had you whimper, hips rocking against him, a soft menacing ‘oh doll’ rolling off his tongue before all pretence of what used to be a dance was gone, hand slipping to your lower back, encouraging you to press into him further, his other hand releasing yours in favour of cradling your jaw and leading your parted lips to his hungry ones. “My beautiful doll… I’ve got you.”

You sighed as you could already almost taste his lips, a tingle burning on your own, instinctively chasing after the pleasure they could provide when you felt their warmth retreat.

You winced when the touch of his hands disappeared too, all but a brush of fingertips remaining, wet and sticky; flash of crimson on his skin, startled gaze, sharp orders followed by words of soft reassurance whispered between heavy breaths, intrusive acrid smell of copper and chemicals causing you to scrunch your nose. Blue and purple of your gown turning black, pristine white shirt torn and drowned in terrifying red; a flash of glowing symbols, an absurdly evil smile replacing Steve’s face in your vision. Gunshot. Body flying backwards. Gun going off twice more. The world tilting to side. Heavy, painless crash. Beeping. That goddamn fluorescent lamp.

A gasp.

You blinked your eyes open, acutely aware of the twitch of your fingers feeling uncertain and heavy.

A dimly-lit room with a few bright points.

A flicker of grey and rust-like red on your right, flash of white on your left. A lab coat.

You drew in another sharp breath, startled, pulse hammering in your temples in fright; Doctor Barret. You were still-

“Well good afternoon, Spectre. You with us for a while this time?” a familiar voice asked, causing you to snap your head from the white coat worn by a doctor who was most definitely not Doctor Barret when you actually looked at him. Even as the menacing glint in Hydra’s doctor eye still flickered in your mind, your brain registered you got a glimpse the pleasant neutral face of a man you vaguely recognized as one belonging to the AI medical team, before you turned your eye to the right.

There, you were met with a subtle smirk on the face of a redhead; Natasha Romanoff, the world’s deadliest spy, a title she was perhaps sharing with Agent May.

Uncomfortably vivid flashes of memories flooded your brain as you were coming to, your heart racing; but upon seeing Natasha, you felt your body relax into the bed. Because you were in a bed – and you were most definitely not in a Hydra facility, but at the Tower’s med bay.

They had come to the rescue. Daisy had come. And probably many other too; you recalled voices, shouting, hissing, whimpering, a glow behind your closed eyelids-

You shot up on your bed, biting back the dull but very intense tug of pain in your thighs as you sat up with a startle. The glow.

“The artifact! Natasha, they can’t touch it, we don’t know-“

A gentle hand landed on your arm; you didn’t realize how close she was standing until she touched you, your heart, having jumped in fright at the mere idea of someone else getting tangled in the mess Kree artifacts tended to stir, pounding wildly at what was probably meant to be a soothing gesture.

Was that even safe, touching you? What if she got involved by merely doing that? What if the power somehow transferred---

--alright, that didn’t make any sense, because the brainless sadistic Hydra jerks had touched you as well, probably with no consequence, but-

“Relax. Breathe. The artifact is taken care off, locked up as of now,” Natasha stated calmly, her eyes roaming your face with what you were pretty certain was concern, even as she retreated her hand. “Doc, could you-“

The doctor – you were quite sure his name was Doctor Cuesta – excused himself in an instant, promising to check on you later and left without protest. Such was the power of Natasha Romanoff’s words; no questioning an order or even a request, just following it.

Some might find it odd, but to you, such behaviour was nothing new – you’d expect nothing less.

The baffling part of the scene would be the presence of Natasha by your bedside. That itself made for a peculiar but warm feeling in your gut, the only plausible reason for that being that she had come to check up on you; but it was another thing entirely to allow yourself to realize that the probability of you waking up the one moment she was here before she’d move on to tend to other things was almost absurdly low.

Which meant she wasn’t only checking up on you, but actually was spending some time here. And that was a hard thing to swallow, even as it tasted a little sweet.

The rational part of you was very firm in its reasoning that perhaps she and other Avengers took turns in your room just in case a new side effect of the power switch appeared and needed to be tackled, and now it was simply Natasha’s time.

The reckless part of you, the sentimental fraction of that part of you, shyly suggested that she was simply here because she cared. It wasn’t entirely unheard of that she was capable of feeling, naturally. Ater all, she had let a few people peek behind the hard shell of the Black Widow, Bucky Barnes making the top of the list.

It was just rather strange that you were included in that group of people at all.

And yet.

It still wasn’t the strangest thing about the whole scene.

As relief flooded your veins, the most acute fear having been soothed for the moment since you were no longer in Hydra’s clutches, you noticed that the already surreal scene – with all your senses in overdrive and dulled at once, probably due to whatever meds they were pumping into you through the i.v., which you had only just noticed – was a full fever dream. Because as the doctor left, your gaze caught on another person in the room. One that had had to been there the whole time, silent, only an echo of his harsher breaths having been reaching your ears, too quiet for you to notice before. And his cerulean eyes were firmly set on you, a tired minute smile on his lips.

The one person whom your very next words would have concerned, because your thoughts were consumed by him as well.

He was wearing a sling on his right arm and shoulder, a butterfly band-aid over what was probably a cut over his brow, a dark shiner on his cheek. Dressed in a simple grey hoodie and black sweats, he seemed as hulk-like as usual, even if worn to a bone and slightly hunched in his chair; but intent as he rose to his feet, stepping closer to your bed.

Now his presence was truly puzzling, even as it shouldn’t be, you supposed. Despite that, however, confusion was a feeling firmly pushed out by a very different sentiment, a whole sea of it.

Your shoulders sagged as you felt tension you hadn’t been aware of melt off your body; because he was okay. Well, as okay as one could be after what you had been through.

Steve was okay.

You were alive. Both of you.

And you were home.

Safe.

Despite the raging storm of sensations and emotions that seeing him stirred, it was relief that crashed into you with enough force to turn your eyes uncomfortably glassy.

It was over. It really was over.

There must have been so much mess to sort through; you had no idea where you stood with the powers exchange, had even less of an idea about where you stood with Steve, Captain Rogers, The Mighty Captain, the jerk, the kindest soul – but the horror was over.

Hydra would not shoot you in the head; Hydra would not cut you open and dig around in your body with glee, discovery that required experimentation. Not today.

And Steve was okay.

“Hey,” you whispered, the single word slipping off your lips unwittingly, causing his smile to widen, his eyes lighting up with life – and with a speckle of concern. Because of course he had noticed your tears welling up a bit.

The flash of a memory of his eyes, truly glowing with something, affection and desire, had your cheeks burn and your stomach flip in as much excitement as shame; that had been just a dream. A very, very nice dream that you could surely blame on medication just in case you had been making any embarrassing noises.

However, if you had, Steve didn’t mention it. Instead, he greeted you with a ‘hey’ in return, with a gentle sound of your name.

The feeling in your belly stirred by that had nothing to do with shame this time; the corners of your lips turned upwards without conscious effort. You felt fresh wave of heat rise to your cheeks; it was no doll or sweetheart, but it wasn’t Spectre either, nor Agent.

Wherever you stood with him now, it wasn’t at a distance; and it wasn’t on a battlefield where you’d face each other either.

The sound of someone clearing their throat snapped you from what probably looked like embarrassing gazing, Natasha’s lips curling up further in concerningly knowing amusement.

“As I was saying. No need to worry about the artifact now. Between the glowing, live feed, Steve telling us and Johnson being able to recover the draft of the message you were trying to send from the auction, we knew enough to keep our hands off,” she explained. “And if that wouldn’t have done it, Johnson had a few colourful curses for us when she saw the symbols, mostly about all things Kree, so that was quite a dead giveaway.”

For all the new information, the corners of your lips twitched at the last piece of it. Of course. You could imagine that after everything that happened especially to Daisy, she would have had a plethora of swearwords at her disposal for such situations.

It wasn’t like your last shared Kree escapade had been kind to you either; you might have not been mind-controlled by an ancient Inhuman named Hive to turn against your team like she had been, but you had sort of been the person who turned out to be the SHIELD agent from a vision of the future Daisy had once been offered; stuck on a quinjet aimlessly flowing through space right before the craft exploded. The memory of body-wrenching invasion, Hive’s clutches having been slowly seeping into your spectre even as you had been snapping back from the quinjet so your spectre wouldn’t end scattered all over the Milky Way, still made you shudder and had made for recurring nightmares.

For a single alien race, Kree sure had messed with your life enough for ten lifetimes already.

Chasing away the dark memories, you latched onto another piece of information; Steve had told them about the artifact. That meant he had been conscious when they had picked him up, or at least hadn’t been unconscious for long. Certainly not longer than you. Which meant that even though he looked a little worse for wear – he was beautiful still, it truly was unfair, you’d bet you looked like an utter mess, while he looked like a warrior demi-god who needed a little nap – he truly was mostly fine.

You couldn’t but wonder if the serum was the reason for that.

“Fair enough,” you hummed absently before your gaze turned back to Steve, drawn to him like a magnet.

He was still smiling a bit, the concern evident on his face; it reminded you of the way he had watched you back in the cell and despite the cold fear that had gripped you several times back there, all you felt now was warmth; because the flash of dreadful memory of blood and pain digging into your mind came with a soft memory of his tender touch. Unfairly, beautifully tender touch of his hands that had not been strictly limited to treating your wounds.

You cleared your throat, attempting to snap your mind back to the present and much more business-like reality. “So… the artifact is safe, locked away. Does that mean we’re back to normal? We’ve got our abilities back?”

You should probably be able to tell on your own; but with no doubt generous dose of medication in your system, evaluating the intensity of stimuli to your senses was… rather difficult.

Steve’s smile grew an even more tired note when Natasha shot him a meaningful look at your question and he shook his head, causing your lips to part in surprise.

“Not yet,” he said simply, returning Natasha’s glare before he fully turned his attention to you, moving to the left side of your bed. It felt like you had an angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other; and despite their looks, Steve’s hair always resembling a halo and Natasha’s being distinctly devilish red, you weren’t sure who was which. Why weren’t you back to normal? Why- “First, we’re not sure how exactly the artifact works and we’re not risking anything before Agent Campbell goes through the archives and Jiaying’s notes. Secondly… frankly, we think we should stay like this a little longer. We agreed you could definitely benefit from more time with accelerated healing. What do you say?”

You opened your mouth and then closed it again, no sound coming out. Your gaze flickered back to Natasha – it seemed she had quite a lot to say about that, but she didn’t make a sound. At least not here, not in front of you.

Guilt instantly bit into your stomach.

The longer you benefited from the effects of the serum, free of pain, the longer Steve suffered, caught in completely unnecessary pain. The latter was simply unacceptable and the former… well. That was always a dangerous thing for you to trifle with. Painless days – even as you were not completely pain-free now – were a thing of dreams you’d easily grow used to. You never had tried heavy drugs for the fear of having your performance messed up, but ever since you had gained your powers and discovered what they entailed, you imagined painless days as a mixture of heroin and morphine; euphoria and relief.

You’d soon start craving that cocktail once you wouldn’t be able to get your hands on it. The sudden absence would cause absolute havoc in your life.

But even if you accepted that; it wasn’t fair at all. It wasn’t fair at all that Steve should suffer consequences of your abilities and its faults. You understood the concerns about unpredictability of using the artifact, but besides that, it shouldn’t even be a subject to discussion.

So you couldn’t say you didn’t understand Natasha’s meaningful look at Steve or her stance; except perhaps you didn’t. Because when you dared to meet her gaze, fully expecting reproach, she was smiling instead, perhaps a little exasperatedly; and while you had misjudged her behaviour before, she appeared genuine in her concern. She might not like seeing her friend in pain in the slightest, but she heard the argument loud and clear. And perhaps, whether one could call you something akin to friendly colleagues or not, she didn’t revel in seeing you in pain either.

Yet, Steve saying they had agreed, whoever the ‘we’ was supposed entail, felt like a farce.

You might be on pain medication, the world slightly hazier than normal, but it was abundantly clear that Stevewas the one who had decided and accepted no counter-arguments. He could get like that sometimes. The infamous ‘everyone’s input counts, don’t be afraid to say your piece, we are a team’ of his flew out of the window if he felt strongly about something.

And he apparently felt very strongly about this.

You gulped as you gathered courage to look at him again, a not-so-quiet voice whispering sleazily about how pathetic you were and about that being the reason why he wanted to wait with the exchange. About how he had seen you at such a low point he could never believe you were good enough for any mission ever again, deciding that you were weak and needed all the support you could get to even survive, to even-

-but the emotions playing on his face, even as you couldn’t decipher them all, didn’t speak of contempt or pity. His smile remained nothing but soft, without a single hint of perceived or believed superiority of his own being. And without as much as a hint of him minding being in pain and taking longer to heal, not when it helped someone else, not when-

God, how that lit up fire in you, how that drove you up the wall. That stupid perfect ultimate good guy with a hero complex, his absurdly big heart larger than his already impressive body, so irritatingly kind, wrapped in a flag of self-sacrifice for good of others--- god, how you despised him for being that good. How you admired him for the very same reasons.

“But you-“

“I have one fully patched-up gunshot wound, mostly just a scratch, a few cuts and bruises, and a transfusion and some quality painkillers in my system,” Steve listed evenly, clearly having expecting your protest.

Those don’t work on the chest however, you reminded yourself, your gaze probably conveying the message even as you hadn’t said it, because Steve’s eyebrow arched slightly. “I’ll sleep it off. And I will heal the rest once I have my abilities back… we think. So truly. Your body needs the serum a lot more than mine.”

The lump that had started growing in your throat under Steve’s watchful gaze expanded further, suffocating and warming at once.

His choice of words felt like everything but accidental: your body. Not ‘you’.

Because that bastard, that infuriatingly observant sweet bastard, even without his serum momentarily but with about a hundred of injuries big and small, remembered and understood that feeling like less, being called less especiallyby someone like him andhim in particular, even if not intentionally, set off your attitude. He knew that now; because you had put almost all your cards on the table back in the Hydra facility. The fact it hadn’t been all cards clearly meant nothing; because when Steve had chosen the words, when he had seen, you might have been under at least two covers and in a hospital gown, but you’d be damned if you didn’t feel completely naked and exposed.

And the absolutely scariest part was… that it wasn’t as scary as you’d have expected it to be.

Not in front of him. Not when he had seen you at the bottom of the pit already. If anything, this was progress; after all, you were fully conscious and he wasn’t tearing your thigh-highs to shreds for the sole reason of treating two bullet wounds. But still. He was watching you with such a knowing gaze and yet, you weren’t bolting and it had nothing to do with your momentary inability to do about a single step. The tidal wave of emotions washing over you at that realization was… baffling and disconcerting to say at least. And rather difficult to process.

And his eyes… that gaze, so damn inquiring, caring and soft. It made your skin prickle and your fingers tingle and not all of it was entirely unpleasant.

“And before you ask, I admit I don’t like it, seeing either of you in pain, but I second that,” Natasha said, snapping you from your thoughts even as her voice was quiet, no doubt sensing this was a lot. And perhaps she was feeling a bit like an intruder. An intruder to what exactly? You would not dare to give it a name or ponder about it too much; it would only bring you a headache. Worse, a heartache. “You need to heal and we have no clue about the risks yet. So. I’m going to call Agent Campbell to check on his progress… Excuse me. And in the meantime, rest. Both of you. Feel better.”

She sweetened her last words with a smile and another meaningful look at Steve, whatever that was about; your best guess was that she was calling him out on not resting properly and being here in your room instead. Then, she cleared the space, the door sliding close behind her quietly.

Why was Steve here in your room instead of resting?

The question was silly really – you already had your answer. You would have known even before he had admitted to you back in the cell just how profoundly responsible he felt for his team and their wellbeing. He felt responsible for his subordinates and equals alike. He cared; though depriving himself of accelerating healing for your benefit seemed like an overkill.

And it certainly felt like a lot more than should be done for you.

You already had the best medical team in the country if not in the world at your disposal, one that could accommodate you and your Inhuman mutation, more than well-equipped to deal with the fact that it now somehow combined with the effects of Steve’s serum. It was already a lot more privilege than an average agent should have. Using the accelerating healing felt like an unfair profit and you wanted to protest despite being grateful and despite the valid argument Steve made.

But one single look at Steve told you arguing was useless. One look at the faint flame of determination in his eye and you heard the echo of his words from the cell clear as day.

You’re a person first, an asset to the team next.

You deserve to rest, you deserve having your needs met, you deserve to be treated like a damn human being.

You deserve better than that. And you are sure as hell going to get that when you’re with us.

The lump in your throat grew another three times bigger, the burn of tears in your eyes intensified; but you spilled none, swallowing heavily instead. There was a faint buzzing in your temples, but you tried to ignore that. Because this was important. If you weren’t about to try and argue Steve out of doing something stupid as you usually did and should, because you’d have about as much success as trying to move a mountain, you might as well express your gratitude at least.

“Thank you for checking up on me,” you rasped, clearing your throat; your tongue felt a little heavy too, especially when he smiled and you did not want to think about why. “For agreeing… for deciding about the… postponing the switch. I’m sorry, I don’t—it’s hard to form words, I-...”

It’s hard to say ‘thank you’ when you look at me like there’s no reason for that gratitude.

When you look like it’s all as easy and matter-of-course courtesy as holding a door open for a woman.

When you look at me, now, without an imminent threat to our lives, and the things we talked about still hang in the air, exposing so many things that I never wanted to see the light of the day.

When you’re doing me an enormous favour and you look like it’s not just because of believing it’s the right thing to do, but maybe, just a little, because it’s for me.

“Of course. And don’t worry, they did mention they have a bit of trouble to balance our dosages of medication, unsure about the serum effects or the lack of it,” he said, so casually kindly again.

“Right,” was all you managed to muster.

Medication miscalculation was most definitely not the only reason why you had trouble speaking; if Steve realized that and he was giving you an out, you couldn’t tell, but didn’t want to investigate. You were simply grateful for not having to explain what might have been written all over your face despite trying your damnest to look mostly neutral and probably failing epically.

The silence that settled tasted a little awkward; as you tried, in the subtlest way possible, to assess Steve’s body language, mulling over his words again, you felt a fresh stab of guilt. He was hunched over a little – and he had mentioned that the med team had issues managing his pain too. They didn’t know how to deal with his natural pain, because his metabolism changed too; as if it wasn’t enough there was nothing they could do for the extra pain in his chest.

And you could easily rid of that, probably of both.

He'd deserve that. More than anyone you had ever met.

What kind of a person were you to deny him that? You shouldn’t. You couldn’t. You didn’t ant to argue with him, not when whatever progress you had made in your relationship was so fragile, but… you couldn’t let him do that.

“Steve, about that switching, I don’t think it’s the best idea to wa-“

“I do,” he said firmly, straightening his posture a bit. Whether that was to establish dominance – as if he wasn’t already standing while you were semi-lying – or to cover up for the fact his chest was no doubt hurting like son of a bitch still, you weren’t sure. But he did; and when he spoke again, you had to admit it was probably the latter. “I’m fine. How are you feeling?”

God, that stubborn son of a-

You bit down the curse, mildly, very mildly mollified by the warm smile – with the subtlesthint of mischief – he charmed up as he tilted his head, waiting.

So you sighed instead.

He gave you time as you allowed yourself to feel your body, the muscles of your legs stiff and relaxed at once, a significantly duller ache than you’d expect, exhaustion seeping deep in your bones despite having barely just woken up. As you kept assessing, pondering about the right balance of honesty and propriety, Steve’s eyes flickered to a nearby chair standing barely a few feet from him, then back to you with an unspoken but clear question.

Despite your better judgement, you nodded, belly warm at the idea of him staying a little longer when you were indeed not in imminent danger and he was still being amicable with you.

He wanted to stay.

He wanted to know how you felt; he considered you a one of the people he felt truly responsible for.

He cared.

You shouldn’t be so content, shouldn’t give in, certainly shouldn’t be feeling like you were slowly melting on the inside. Your heart shouldn’t be fluttering. But you had already established your judgement was impaired at best, didn’t you?

And again, despite your better judgement, you also told Steve the truth. There was simply something in his eyes as he watched you with concern but a small smile, clearly content you had granted him his wish to sit down and stay a little longer instead of screaming your disagreement to his face, that just made you actually want to tell the truth. To be on honest terms.

“I’m… a little less than fine, I guess,” you admitted reluctantly, only to see his smile slip, gaze instantly drawn to the nurse button by your bed. But a nurse would not help you with this; not with feeling rather lost in all the sensations and emotions and feeling like you were losing your last defences to the all-kinds-of-gorgeous man by your bedside. “But I… I would have been dead without you.”

Steve shook his head in dismissal.

The sudden urge – to make him seethat dismissing all he had done as if it was some kind of a common courtesy was utter nonsense –flared up in your chest with intensity, shooting straight into your veins even before he spoke up.

“You removed the bullets yourself-“

“And you took care of me. You--- you protected me. With everything you had and caught a bullet for that, because I needed-“

“I needed to do at least something,” he interrupted you in turn, your mouth falling shut at the urgency of his tone, the atmosphere suddenly heavier and thicker than just a moment ago with something you couldn’t quite grasp except for feeling the gravity and passion behind Steve’s words. “The fact that I, at least partly, got us into that situation was just one of many reasons why. And you, you warned us that that might happen, and yet when it came, you didn’t throw it in my face, not really, but instead fought tooth and nail, suffering the consequences of a mistake that was not your own and tried you damnest to help even when you were fighting for your life. Healing a little faster than usual is the least you deserve and me having done what I did and enabling that healing now is the least I can do.”

You swallowed heavily, not daring to move otherwise, not ready to make a sound; too stunned. His words were heavy with guilt, bright with sincerity and laced with the echo of those in the cell again.

You deserve better than that. And you are sure as hell going to get that when you’re with us.

And you understood. You understood that the guilt he had revealed might have been a strong motivator of his, but not the only one. He wanted to do that for you. Because he cared.

The thought was dizzying still, but with that, you supposed you could live. You could live, even though with heavy conscience, with him choosing to wait if it eased his conscience. It wasn’t written anywhere that the switch couldn’t happen right tomorrow – just not right now. Whenever that might occur, however, the delay was still an enormous sacrifice; one worthy of Captain America. One worthy of Steve Rogers.

It would enrage you to no end that he was willing to do that, if it only didn’t make your heart flutter.

You licked your lips, mouth having gone dry as you found yourself under his burning gaze the whole time you pondered your answer.

“I--- thank you, Steve. And not just for that. I am still grateful for what you did for me back there too… and how.”

And you meant that too.

Because you did remember with painful and startling quality. Remembered how tender and careful his hands had been, how soothing his voice had sounded, how sincere his words had been. You hadn’t really deserved such softness; and certainly, when looking back, hadn’t expected it either – used to a cold shoulder, drills and words that couldn’t be farther from the endearments Steve’s lips spilled – even as you had known Steve was simply a unique kind of man.

You’d always be grateful for all of it, even as his actions had been a double-edged sword.

Thank you for what you did and how; even if it ruined me forever. Even if it crushed most if not all the walls I had built so meticulously so I wouldn’t jump into the void of allowing myself to feel anything but caution, irritation and insanely bothersome admiration when it came to you.

The memory of his soft touch would haunt you forever; it had already haunted your dream, after all, the endearments whispered by his lips in a context and situation imagined, but fed by a real memory.

At your words, Steve smiled a bit, concern and determination replaced by sheer warmth that felt like a fluffy blanket caressing your skin, inviting you to sink into its softness.

“Anytime, doll.”

The conviction in the single word strummed your heartstrings gently; the endearment, falling from his lips so effortlessly again, tugged at them violently and made you shiver.

Your chuckle sounded foreign and nervous, the heat blooming in your chest a little heavy.

“Is that going to be a thing now?”

Steve sat up straighter in an instant, only reminding you of how close he had leaned forward to you before; he appeared a little flushed, a tinge of pink in his cheeks, expression one of a boy caught with a hand in the cookie jar. It took away five years of his handsome face and it was beautiful.

It was such an awfully sweet picture that the nerves melted away, giving into the gentle fire instead.

“Oh. Sorry, I-“

“No, I-… I like it…” you admitted unwittingly, slowly, feeling your cheeks burn with heat and your lungs with panic, because what were you doing? What were you thinking, not only feeling it, but confessing to that, no matter how true it was. You couldn’t--- you shouldn’t- “I think,” you added quickly.

You fooled no one.

But oh, that brilliant smile Steve’s lips split into and his fingertips brushing over your hand laxly laid on the bed, before his hand gently enveloped yours, made that admission damn well worth it. Even if your chest felt paper-thin, with your pounding heart threatening to burst right through.

God, you were glad you only had the oximeter on your other hand and were not attached to the kind of ECG that was hooked to a beeping monitor. You’d die of embarrassment if Steve could actually hear the somersaults your heart was doing; you were set on the course of committing ritualistic suicide by allowing yourself to feel that way already, there was no need to add to it, really, no need to let him hear-

And yet you couldn’t imagine you truly would care if he heard. Not when his warm hand carefully squeezed yours, a flicker of apprehension in his gaze when he did so, almost as if he was – arguably rightfully – worried it would make you pull your hand back.

But you did no such thing; like a fool. Like a fool in lo- no. That was so not a wise direction for your thoughts.

“Yeah,” Steve hummed, his shoulders sagging a bit when you not only hadn’t yanked your hand free, but instinctively – yes, certainly, it was pure reflex, not a conscious decision at all, right? – briefly squeezed back. “Me too.”

There was something setting off all alarm bells inside you at the direction you were both steering towards; but there was also something chasing tears of relief and affection into your eyes.

Because what you were experiencing, what you were seeing, was precious on so many levels.

Sweet. Vulnerable. Less than confident.

Stubborn. In pain not entirely hidden. Slipping. Soft.

New layers of Steve uncovered, revealed voluntarily for you to see. You had willed yourself to be a little more honest and accept, however reluctantly, his kindness; and in return, he took your words to heart too, letting you see more of him than what he was used to showing.

He had admitted back in the cell that what the agents could of him, a drastically uncomplete image with virtues having painted all of it, was what he believed was necessary. Ironically, you had never found yourself admiring him more – steering faster towards the very dangerous territory of liking him and allowing yourself to feel it and giving into it – than right now.

You were not blind to the opportunity; you were not blind to the fact it cost him something too, because letting go of masks and tearing down walls was a painful and often impossible process. You appreciated it; and he deserved know that.

“And, I-“

His smile grew a little curious, intent, so genuinely interested in whatever you wanted to say that you couldn’t bear his gaze anymore, your eyes focusing on his hand on yours instead; it only stirred emotion in you further, because the sight was all kinds of peculiar. Not only because of the simple insane fact that he was holding your hand – Jesus, you needed to get a grip and not on his hand, no matter how nice that would have felt – but because of his scraped knuckles and two tiny cuts. An image unparalleled; you had never seen that. Either you weren’t shown, obviously, or the small injuries hadn’t stuck for long enough, the serum coursing his veins working its miracles and healing.

And he wanted you to have that kind of miraculous luxury for now, giving it up for your benefit. For you. It might be unfathomable, but that made it no less touching, the feeling blooming in your chest no less consuming.

That large warm pawn of his might have as well be pulling directly at your heartstrings with every second he spent in your company, with every step forward you felt he was taking.

“I… it might be just painkillers talking, but I like you better like this. I mean-- better than the perfect Captain America. Not hurt, obviously,” you said, mentally cursing your choice of words.

And cursing the confession itself. The moment you said it out loud, you realized it revealed too much. You didn’t dare to look up for the very reason; but it felt like Steve’s smile widened, your mind supplying you with an image of his eyes crinkling for some reason.

The barely-there twitch of his hand felt self-deprecating, looking back at his own behaviour critically; that made you feel a touch braver. And a bit more confident that he truly wondered what was on your mind and wanted to hear and see what you thought and who you were; bad humour included.

It only felt right to show it.

“I also liked it when you told me to tell you what to do for a change.”

You were rewarded for speaking up; with a gorgeous sound of his chuckle sending tingles down your veins, a sight of his absurdly handsome face lighting up and him leaning a bit closer, brighter, but with serious note to his cerulean eyes, the faintest hint of hesitance as his laugh faded out, only his smile remaining

“Well. I’ll deny it and will never speak of it again if you just say the word, but I just… I just like you.”

Lightning.

It struck you like a lightning, electrifying, burning and icy cold all at once. Paralysing.

If holding his hand had seemed like a risk, now he figuratively took your other hand too and led you straight into the minefield. And you might have trusted him to do that, but reached for even more humour anyway, because the feeling coiling inside you expanded with the first breath you dared to take and then further with every other and you had no clue how to contain it.

He liked you.

“Such flattery.”

It did not come out as snarky as intended; in fact, it came out just as touched as you felt, the echo of his words resonating in your very bones, the marrow crumbling and rebuilding anew. You suspected your expression revealed a little too much of how profoundly that single statement seemed to change what might be a little piece of you, but changed you fundamentally. Your voice came out a touch too vulnerable – but you supposed that was only fair. He had been vulnerable first. Right?

So why did it feel like so much? Too much.

You half-expected Steve to take it back, if not for anything, than for the very magnitude of such statement; but he kept watching you, painfully gentle and unable to take it anymore, your gaze slid lower to his chest.

The flash of a terrifying image – a ghastly memory – had you wince, the bubble Steve had seemed to create bursting, reality crashing in.

“How’s… how bad is the chest pain?”

Steve didn’t call you out on the change of topic; but his smile earned a tense edge, the briefest flash of a grimace telling you the pain was, unsurprisingly and unfortunately, barely bearable. As it tended to be when a person got shot.

But he didn’t say a word about that pain, stubborn; and perhaps he was purposely letting you get a taste your own medicine, showing you another piece of the only almost-perfect puzzle he was – a tiny bit vindictive, proving a point when given the chance. You supposed you couldn’t exactly argue that you didn’t deserve that behaviour.

Or maybe he simply didn’t want to fight, didn’t want to disturb the nice warm moment by digging into a very painful spot. Literally.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said simply.

And yet, there was an undertone to his voice, one that had your breath catch and took you all too long to figure out, only knocking the remnants of air from your lungs when you did realize what his patient gaze spoke of as well.

This was not only his answer to you.

This was his answer to anyone who asked.

And you wanted to be mad at him, for being a hypocrite, for hiding pain, no doubt telling people he was fine, as he had told you too-

-but the motivation behind that action was not as simple and straightforward as him putting on the face he always believed was necessary. Because it was so much more complicated than. Because it was about you too.

That was what he was telling you.

You did not believe that it would last. There was no universe in which Steve Rogers would make a discovery of such nature and kept it for himself, or would keep it but let it slide without any consequence, good or bad; but for now, he did. He hadn’t revealed your secret to anyone.

Your choked ‘thank you’, when you finally gathered enough air and wits to speak, was barely audible.

And that infuriatingly good bastard just smiled, a little conspiratory, as if he had a secret you now knew, even if it was the other way around.

“I should let you rest,” he said lowly, brushing over your gratitude – because of course he did. “Rest well. Feel better.”

Despite his words, he did not move an inch away from you; he didn’t let go either, the only movement being a painfully soft sweep of his thumb over the back of your hand, over your wrist.

The minuscule, seemingly instinctual caress made something warm hum in your chest, loud.

So unlike two weeks ago with the parting words after your fight – god, did it feel like a lifetime ago, and maybe it was, the experience of the past hours changing you, leaving you alive but reborn – you allowed yourself to respond in kind, consciously letting sincerity slip into your voice.

“You too.”

Steve smiled wide, eyes crinkling – and this time, you did see it, the image much prettier and vivid than your mind had conjured before. The feeling in your chest hummed even louder and fluttered its wings, an echo of a sweet melody and his words in your head.

I just like you.

He had exposed his heart, shared a good thing with you. That was another thing you should reciprocate, for it might be a dangerous truth, but one Steve would deserve to hear. Yet, you found yourself unable to do it.

You were no hero – not like him. There was not enough courage left to say those words – but that didn’t mean you weren’t willing to put in an effort, to hint at least. Because one thing needed to be made crystal clear; that reckless, beautiful thing, blossoming around your heart, pulling at the seams of your ribcage.

“And I… think I will want you to speak of… that again. Later?” you suggested quietly, half-expecting him to burst out with a laughter, a ‘ha gotcha!’ coming at last,; half-hoping he would do no such thing.

Sure, men being interested in your person might not be a foreign concept to you, be it your status, skills or abilities, but neither were the bets and conquests of the one with higher status and skills than their own – which for sure would not be Steve’s case. It couldn’t be. He would never.

Yet, you felt apprehension creep up your spine as you confessed; one quickly dissolved in his velvety voice.

“I’d like that too.”

You squeezed his hand back at that, vainly shushing the overly giddy sensation awoken. You really, really needed to get a grip on yourself. But you didn’t take your indirect confession back – which meant your judgement was most definitely impaired. And funnily enough, you didn’t mind one bit.

For a long moment, neither of you said a word; neither of you commented on the minute physical affection you showed, this time entirely consciously. Steve didn’t tease you about it, didn’t turn it against you in any way, nor exploited it, his smile only turning a tad warmer, without pressure.

It occurred to you it was no wonder you had been unable to say ‘I like you’ back to him; it would have been a lie. ‘Liking’ him just might be too weak of a word at the moment.

“Good,” you whispered simply, earning another caress on your hand, this time surer, firmer, but no less gentle.

Then, one last squeeze of a hand and Steve was rising to his feet at last. The way you missed the warmth of his touch instantly was downright criminal; you just weren’t sure whether it was you or him who should get arrested.

“See you soon, doll.”

Him. He was the one who should be locked up and with a warning.

Over the power of his words, a very faint sound of the door sliding open reached your ears but not your brain – so you responded in kind again.

“See you soon, stranger.”

He grinned – that criminal grinned – as if he could remember you calling him that back at the charity auction, and made his way to the door where he turned back to you just to spare you one more smile. As a consequence, he nearly collided with one Daisy Johnson before he disappeared from your sight completely.

But not before you witnessed Daisy’s appreciative onceover, a firm dutiful ‘Captain Rogers’ on her lips. Once the door slid shut, her gaze found yours, mutely, but very exaggeratingly mouthing a ‘wow’.

And you kinda wished she would have stayed in the mute mode when she actually spoke.

“Well, lucky you, doll.”

“Shut up.”

Despite your harsh words, you were smiling, feeling heat rising in your cheeks – and realizing there was a dull ache in them too. Given the fact you hadn’t been punched there, as far as you knew, it meant that your cheeks hurt from smiling too long. And you couldn’t seem to make it stop, trying, but failing as your lips instantly curled up again.

Daisy’s unoffended chuckle sounded like it was coming from an enormous distance.

What was wrong with you? What were you, a teenager? A kid?So Steve had said he liked you and held you hand for a bit, gee, yeah, a big deal. Except it was. And definitely not just because you couldn’t have stood each other – or acted like it – barely two weeks ago, which was just another thing that should make you freak out and in a way it did, because this was insane and dangerous, but--- god. The way he just casually swept his thumb over the back of your hand was doing visceral things to you; and your brain might have been screaming at you because of that, but heaven help you, you still liked it.

It was a good thing that Daisy, the closest thing you had to a friend, was here now, to bring your feet back to Earth.

Except she was about to do no such thing, naturally – damn her pure hopeful heart and dirty mouth.

“You know, I know I once said I’d like to get my hands on Thor,” she hummed, grinning, spying the chair by your bed and plopped down into it without bothering asking permission, “but I’m not picky about my Avengers… like, at all.”

You couldn’t help it; you snorted, even as an irrational growl of mine seemed to echo in your skull.

“Yeah, right, tell that to Lincoln.”

“What? I can appreciate a handsome beefcake of a man still, I have eyes!”

“Yeah, for Lincoln Campbell, your boyfriend,” you reminded her with amusement, even as she most definitely needed no reminder; the two were sickeningly, beautifully in love.

Only when she raised her eyebrow, you noticed the butterfly band aid on her forehead – it truly spoke of how out of it you were to notice it only now despite the injury literally staring into your face.

You sat up straighter, frowning. “Hey, what happened? How are you doing?”

Daisy’s right eyebrow joined the left one, her hand subtly pointing towards her – and then you.

“Me? I’m fine. You, however, have two gunshot wounds, Ms. Avenger. What the hell?”

Your smile slipped at the addressing making a return, instinct taking over. “I’m not… that, not really.”

Daisy tilted her head, her face speaking volumes.

Here was a thing about Daisy Johnson; even long before she was an agent, from what you heard, she could show very clearly when she was done with someone’s bullshit. And she was clearly expressing that she thought you were sprawling nonsense now.

You spoke quickly before she could, forcing your smile back as you remembered: “I met a girl recently, she was a fan of yours.”

“Oh? Cool! Tell me all about that,” Daisy took the bait easily, grinning with a mischief that should have clued you on something, but didn’t. “When was that? Was that during the Avengers’ Day, Ms. Avenger?”

You shot her an unimpressed glare; but the corners of your lips twitched up involuntarily at her shenanigans. Damn her. This woman. She was on a roll.

“And then, you’d better tell me all the juicy and mundane details you can about the blond beefcake… that calls you doll, apparently? You know, Coulson’s either gonna fistfight you for him or dry his tears of pride and joy for like a week.”

There was absolutely no containing the snort of laughter this time. Your cheeks burned; your belly tingled, warmth and nausea at once – but you snorted again, because that was a visual that should not be so plausible. Bless Phil Coulson and his heart. You admired him greatly, but the imagery Daisy painted should have felt much more absurd.

“You’re awful,” you accused her, giggling, not blind to her pride at her joke.

“Please, you love me.”

God help you, you did indeed. The insistent tug on the corners of your lips gave it away, as did the incredibly soothing bright feeling in your chest. Your giggles turned into a gentle smile, the gratitude you felt hopefully seeping into every word.

Because you were grateful to her – for a lot of things. You didn’t think you could put it into words; you didn’t think you truly wanted to put it into words. You just hoped that she understood. She always had.

“Thank you for checking up on me, Daisy. And for coming to the rescue in the first place,” you said, the sudden hoarseness of your voice and the burn in your eyes taking you by surprise – and with shame.

But she just smiled; because of course she did. She was a lot more than a kickass hero with a sense of humour. Most of all, she was a kind precious soul fighting the odds no one would have guessed she had to face.

She leaned closer, her expression speaking of sincerity you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to.

“Hey. Always. But please, do not test that again. You scared me… scared us. If it weren’t for another three fires that needed to be put out around the world, you’d have the full cavalry here, and I don’t mean just May,” she informed you, not giving you time to process the bombshell she just dropped and caused absolute havoc in your head. Surely, she was exaggerating- “Next gala, just get drunk and do something embarrassing, yeah? Nothing life-threatening.”

You just smiled weakly, latching onto the mischief appearing in her face again, the air feeling considerably lighter in your lungs at that.

“Now. What’s the word? Who was the girl? And… how’s the guy?”

She wiggled her eyebrows – actually wiggled her eyebrows – and you opened your mouth mutely, barely containing your smile at the sheer force of her enthusiasm. It had nothing to do that the memory of Steve’s hand on yours made you melt into the pillow again. Nothing.

Get a grip-

“He’s… it’s—complicated,” you stammered, having to admit that it was actually be the most accurate word ever to describe whatever you and Steve were. Were trying to be. Could be in some utopia land. Whatever.

Daisy grinned in return. “Riiiight, so right up your alley then, eh?”

Mentally, you scoffed. Figures, you supposed. And still – you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face.

I just like you.

Steve Rogers was most definitely entirely out of your league – a war hero who had literally fought the original Nazis, a hero of today, a demi-god in a barely human form, the gentlest man with a heart of gold and mind sharp like a knife that he only used to protect others – but as far as types of men went, he was certainly up there for you. You knew you shouldn’t reach so high, because you weren’t able to, but damn him, he made you want to try, even as the fall would hurt like son of a bitch.

“Yeah... I suppose it is.”

“Well, just so you know, there was not a single complicated thing about the way that guy was looking at ya’,” Daisy drawled confidently, crossing hr arms on her chest, watching you expectantly.

Your heart fluttered and started racing, stomach doing a funny flip-flop.

Get a grip, get a grip, he’s just--- he’s just a guy, just a guy, and you shouldn’t get your hopes up so much, you---

You pushed the burning giddy feeling away, catching yourself before you could grin and giggle and scream like a lunatic, and cleared your throat.

Daisy’s face told you that you fooled no one – or at least not her. Oh for god’s sake-

“Ehm… thanks. Duly noted. Now, about Daisy…”

“Oooh I like this girl already. Spill!”

And so you did, eternally grateful your Daisy didn’t push further. At least for now.

And if the ache in your cheeks persisted, maybe, just maybe, you only welcomed it with a wider smile.

As Steve walked down the hall, he felt the tips of his ears burning, even as what had happened between you to in your hospital room was hardly scandalous.

What was rather scandalous was the look Agent Johnson gave him when he nearly collided with her in the doorway. That woman conveyed a plethora of emotion in a single gaze; respect, curiosity, a wordless threat not to hurt her friend and somewhat platonic objectification, the reason for the flush to his skin.

True, the last part was significantly aided by his interaction with you – entirely pleasant, sweet, warm even, your hand in his certainly had been, and you had said you would like to talk about that. ‘That’ being Steve liking you. And while his choice of words was a little too simple, it clearly didn’t affect the result – and the warmth remained both on his face and in his chest.

Unfortunately, the droplets of sweat he could feel in his hairline and the rest of the flush to his face had much more to do with pain. Brutal, unrelenting pain which didn’t react to medication unlike the one coming from his actual injuries.

Now that he felt but a slight dull ache in his shoulder and arm and face, and he didn’t have other sensations to focus on, no little smiles, surprising honesty, no touch, no ‘I like you better like this’, the pain in his ribcage was nothing short of stabbing. He slouched a bit, allowing himself a few moments of reprieve since there were no witnesses momentarily; but as the ache didn’t subdue, Steve seriously questioned his decision to not bring it up not only with you, but no one at all.

The Avengers didn’t know about the issue yet – he had requested to postpone anyone watching the rest of the records from the Hydra facility until he’d review it, not even having to make up the worry he expressed about revealing too personal information or his concern about the action of showing the video to others appearing like dangling the less-than-completely-stellar moments you had shared in front of the team. While Steve held nothing but admiration for you and your strength in those moments and he was sure anyone would feel the same, he’d rather if you decided about what you wanted the team to see; the majority of what had happened at the two cells brought no useful intel anyway. However, the issue of your abilities, now that was something that needed to be shared with at least a few other people, but should be done so completely on your terms.

Which was also the reason why Steve hadn’t been interrogating and hurting the bastards who had tortured you – and it had been torture, inflicting not only pain, but fear, all for the goal of breaking you and him alike – leaving that to Natasha and Bucky instead. The Hydra operatives who were still able to speak – Steve admittedly found a little too much gratification in the fact not all of them could – might try to get a rise out of him. Or directly ask about how his chest was doing and thus steering attention to questions Steve did not want to answer since you didn’t either.

That was why he had opted for siting in your room, watching Natasha’s and Bucky’s impeccable and incredibly satisfactory work on his tablet, alternating with watching over the steadily drawn lines on your heart monitor and your calm breaths; an acceptable compromise of keeping your secret safer, keeping an eye on you, technically resting as he the doctor had ordered, and witnessing the men who revelled in hurting others metaphorically weave the rope to hang themselves on as either of Steve’s closest friends got them worked up.

Admittedly, Steve had nodded off at some point between all this, probably due to the amount of pain medication he was on and exhaustion from the pain that never left, but that wasn’t the point.

And sure – Steve didn’t plan on sitting on the information about your lingering pain forever, chest almost bursting at the seams with the need to discuss it with someone already and put a plan in motion so you’d suffer less in the future, preferably not at all, but he needed to be careful about it. Strategic. Take his time.

And process it fully himself first.

Because that was a hard, bitter pill to swallow and Steve wasn’t sure he ever would. Not the part about him not having known. Not the part about him having assumed. Not the part about feeling the extent of it on his own body. And most definitely not the part that this was how your powers worked and always had. His blood was boiling at not having known, but anger was not the only emotion stirred.

The mere idea you had suffered a pain like this, multiple times without a single soul knowing – or a single person who could have decided you wouldn’t be going on mission or even to training in such state – was horrifying and almost as paralyzing as the pain itself. And it wasn’t that Steve didn’t understand the need to push one’s self, swallow pain in order to function, to help, or didn’t admire those who could do it. He himself had bit through a fair amount of pain, more than he’d care for. But he had suffered through it only when it was absolutely necessary and lives were at stake, and you’d just--

…alright, perhaps that was a lie and he was a damn hypocrite, but that was different. You must have been suffering constantly and that was wrong and simply inacceptable.

Steve’s brain was in a slight haze, both physical and mental exhaustion catching up with him as did the suddenly lacking effects of the serum he had got used to, but he tried to strain his memory anyway. How many missions had you handled with pain not unlike the one he was feeling now? Without a single complaint, because you apparently believed complaining was notwithin your rights, because you were an agent, and pain was a part of life? Occupational hazard, easier on you than on other agents, because it was ‘only’ pain? How many of your missions had you taken on after having got hurt in your spectral form? A quarter of them? A third? He’d have to go through the records. He was going to read on every single one of them, remind you of all of them and make sure you’d never do that again. Because goddamnit you mattered.

He really thought you had believed him back at the base, but he was not so certain you’d stay in that headspace after you’d heal; he might be a hypocrite, but he was beginning to see similarities he was not appreciative of and he was more than aware that that was what he would have probably done too. But that was a problem for the future you and him and whoever would get involved.

Athe door to the communal kitchen came into focus, Steve sighed, trying to concentrate on the insistent twitch in the corners of his lips instead; because besides the persistent agony and burning, there a sweet warmth that lingered in his chest as well. A distraction, a soft painkiller that didn’t do much, but was still doing plenty.

He grasped at that straw, gripping hard as he reached the door, back straightening. He could handle the pain like this too; it wasn’t completely unbearable. It only hurt when he moved.

Or breathed.

And keeping your secret for now, keeping it safe, mattered. Because no matter whether he agreed or not, you hadconsidered your circumstance as one not allowing you to share how your abilities worked; not with him or any other Avenger, or even Coulson, since Steve hadn’t got any information of that kind when they had recruited you. Your heartbreaking ‘thank you’ back in the room had spoken volumes, nails of an invisible hand digging into Steve’s heart.

For that, hiding his momentary pain and not saying anything was worth it. For the trust you had showed him when you had confessed, it was worth it, because he couldn’t afford to break that. Not only it would feel like an utter betrayal even to him, let alone you, but because they’d lose you. Already having been so reluctant to fully lean into being an Avenger in any other but professional – and bleeding – capacity, caring but keeping your distance, you’d cut them off completely. Or left the team; even as in the past few minutes, Steve had not got the impression of you planning on that.

Hopefully.

Right before he entered, Steve took a deep agonizing breath. It reminded him of his asthma, only with the pain dialled up to eleven, the kind of hurting he was no longer used to fighting, not when not running on more adrenalin than blood. He granted himself the luxury of not straitening to his full height – he was about to meet friends, after all. He did not have to hide everything.

He could afford showing just a bit more, blaming it on bruised ribs he hadn’t want to admit to – if anything, that would make his charade more believable.

He allowed for the smile tugging on his lips to spread fully.

You had said yes. You hadn’t exactly said you liked him too, he wasn’t blind to that fact, but it was implied for certain that you did – and he’d take it, because he wasn’t blind to the enormous progress you had gone through compared to what you two had been two weeks ago when the major fight had occurred.

I’d like to talk about that…. Later?

Steve could wait. It wasn’t like he didn’t have other things to sort through, some pleasant, some less so.

Three faces with various levels of amusement and concern welcomed him as he walked in, Bucky, Natasha and Sam sitting at the table, taking a break in between digging into the sick minds of Hydra operatives.

They all watched him expectantly, no doubt having spied the smile on his face – but it was Bucky who spoke, the one teasingly prolonged word only causing Steve’s smile to widen.

“Soooo…?”

“Not a word.”

“Oh I think a lot of words probably happened, punk. Communication, huh? The wonders of simply talking...” Bucky continued, earning an unimpressed glare as Steve moved to the still fresh pot of coffee. He had a mission report to write, then another report as two AI high-ranking operatives had been hurt, he had the videos to review, a therapy session planned… he needed the caffeine.

Especially since he was to deal with his friends first; the snicker that escaped Sam and the smirk settling on Natasha’s face spoke volumes.

Clearly, Steve was friends with children. And as children he should treat them.

“I hate you all,” he uttered, his grin somehow only widening.

“Oooooh, careful! Careful, you guys,” Sam teased, extending his hand in front of Bucky and Natasha as if to protect them from Steve. “He might have caught more than her powers. He’s cranky now.”

A bit of indignation lit up in Steve’s chest at that mocking remark – you weren’t that cranky. In fact, you could be quite doting on others when you weren’t isolating yourself. Which, now that he looked back, might have been for a large part caused by the fact that when you were alone, it was your reprieve from pretending you were not in pain. For another, he was staring to understand that you felt like you didn’t belong – and so your exits could have seemed harsher than intended.

He wasn’t sure which was worse; but either way, making fun of you for it was incredibly unfair.

But before he could rise to our defence, Bucky was pushing Sam’s hand away with a shit-eating grin.

“Nah, he could always be cranky, especially when he knew others had been right the whole time. He’s just finally embraced the fact they are two peas in the pod with our resident lady Spectre. Didn’t you?”

“Har-har, jerk,” Steve commented, unimpressed.

But yes, that was true. The fact he had refused to admit that your similarities were one of the reasons why you occasionally clashed so hard was certainly among the list of his recent revelations, of which most sucked, but he was still glad for having made them.

Something must have shown in his face, or perhaps his voice had earned a bitterer note as his thoughts had, because Sam’s features lost a fair share of humour, sincerity shining through instead, as he made more space for him at the table, letting him sit among them.

“No, Steve, seriously… we’re glad to have you back. Both of you… cranky or smiling.”

Steve’s lips automatically mimicked the latter, especially when Sam very carefully reached out to briefly squeeze his unharmed shoulder.

“Thanks, Sam.”

“And happy to see you two idiots are making progress…” Bucky added, hiding his ever-present grin behind his cup as he sipped his coffee.

“…even if it took an alien artifact, a kidnapping, three gunshot wounds and walking a mile in each other’s’ shoes,” Natasha finished, causing Steve to sigh, the creeping unease they had called crankiness growing as she listed it all.

Natasha certainly had a point, because it had taken a lot indeed – and they didn’t even know half of it… or at least about one gunshot wound. And as much as Steve shared their sentiment, grateful – delighted, in fact – that your relationship with him was beginning not only to settle, but might actually grow into something more than pleasant collegiality or friendship, he couldn’t help feeling that the price for that was a little too high.

“Sure, laugh it up.”

“Oh, we will,” Sam agreed instantly, showing his pearly whites in a wide grin, the very moment Natasha’s quiet hum told Steve that he was never going to live that down and Bucky blurted out “Absolutely, we will, yeah.”

Yeah, I don’t think I will, Steve thought darkly, biting his tongue and resolving to drown the words in the hot drink instead, gaze lowering to the counter as not to reveal his musings, hoping to come across as flustered if not embarrassed a bit.

But he should have known better.

Between two deadly spies and a man who knew a human soul and trauma well-enough to volunteer at a VA, and with all of those being his close friends, there was no hiding.

He could feel the humour melt away from the room completely as concern filled the space instead.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked, setting his cup down; and at that, Steve almost laughed, but sighed instead, reluctantly looking up.

A whole lot is wrong.

“Besides the obvious, he means,” Sam added quickly.

What was Steve supposed to say to that? He knew about the one thing he couldn’t reveal, but the rest… that he hated what had happened, that to a large point, he did hate learning all the things about you and revealing his own fears and insecurities, some of them healed and soothed, loving it all the same? That he wasn’t sure that if given the chance to come back and undo all the pain, not only the one you were put through in the past days, but all of it, there was a part of him, significant one, that would not have taken that chance, because it let you right here and may lead to something beautiful? How selfish was that? For the paragon of virtue you considered him, he sure felt like the opposite. And the fact you likely still thought you weren’t enough, hadn’t been enough, didn’t—

He cherished all he learned about you, but there was a part of him that simply wanted to scream and now he couldn’t. And he had no idea at all what he was going to tell not only to his friends, but to his therapist; because not telling anyone as he had promised himself and indirectly to you for now, surely included her as well.

So much for a fearless reckless leader, eh?

“It’s not… it is just that a lot has happened, that’s all,” Steve said at least, carefully choosing his words. It was the farthest thing from a lie. It just wasn’t a complete truth; and it wasn’t enough. His friends could tell; he could feel all of their gazes burning through his skull, even as they remained silent, waiting patiently. There was no doubt telling them would make his breathing easier, shared burden and shared indignation lifting some of the weight from his chest; but he bit his cheek, gripping the weight tighter, because he couldn’t. Not yet. “I just-“

“I swear to god, punk, if you’re gonna say again that it was your fault…”

Steve huffed a humourless chuckle, regretting it instantly as his ribcage protested with a sharp stab of pain. Okay, fuck, how did you even-

“It’s not that. Not only. I just… I wish that sudden understanding of each other’s perspective came in a different circumstance than getting hurt and nearly getting killed, that’s all.”

He forced a tight smile, rewarded with Sam’s compassionate gaze.

“That’s pretty understandable. Just like wishing we somehow did better despite having done our best and doing everything right,” Sam said, one corner of his lips rising as he knew he hit the one nail sticking out directly on the head, self-deprecating leading Steve’s brows to rise briefly – as did his satisfaction for getting them off his back without being insincere and revealing too much.

However, as soon as he glanced at Bucky and Natasha, he realized he hadn’t fooled them. Not all of them.

Natasha in particular was watching him like a hawk, not even trying to be subtle about it.

Seconds ticked by. Bucky cocked his head to side, suspicious, but resigning.

Natsha’s eyes, on the other hand, lit up with recognition.

With recognition that was not supposed to be there.

The flash of hurt burned hotter than his invisible bullet wound; and it ignited the same rage Steve had felt when you had confessed to him; the same rage that consumed him upon hearing your whisper of ‘not where I come from’; the same rage that whited his vision out back in the cell when he heard you scream in agony and he could do nothing.

Natasha knew.

Whether you had told her – and dammit did that made him feel inadequate and downright useless as the Captain that was supposed to protect his team, because you were supposed to trust him with that – or whether she had figured it out, his blood might have as well burst in flames at the mere fact she had kept it to herself.

How could have she just let you suffer, standing by watching him assign you to mission after mission when you were supposed to rest and heal, when-

The wave of nausea swinging his stomach and the new suffocating pressure in his ribcage made him doubt whether he wanted to yell or throw up; but either way, he was going to have a very strict and possibly very loud conversation with Natasha.

Right fucking now.

And she knew that – Steve could tell, because she still held his gaze, unrelenting, not appearing intimidated a fraction by the anger that must have shown on his face. Clearly, for some sick reason, she didn’t regret her actions – or the lack of it – one bit. Of course she didn’t.

But she should.

Steve didn’t look away from her face when he spoke into the suddenly chilling silence.

“Guys… can we have a minute?”

Steve asked, but he didn’t.

It wasn’t even a request.

His voice slipped into the mode of a Captain, one that despite valuing his comrades’ opinions, permitted no protests; he gave an order and they almost automatically followed, because they trusted him.

Now, Steve could feel their startled and baffled eyes flickering between Natasha and him, trying to decipher what on Earth had caused the sudden shift in atmosphere. Steve noticed from the corner of his eye that Bucky looked at Natasha questioningly, but she simply nodded minutely, causing Steve’s jaw to tense further. If Bucky knew as well-

When Steve’s gaze snapped to him, however, he appeared reigned but no less confused than before.

Good. Had Natasha told Bucky but had kept it secret from him, both of them, Steve would throw fucking hands – they would be balled in fists.

“…sure?” Sam hummed uncertainly, grabbing his coffee and walking away alongside Bucky, gaze flickering between the trio with an almost laughably puzzled expression.

Except laughing was the last thing on Steve’s mind, and the pain in his chest had nothing and everything to do with that.

Before he could as much as gather his thoughts and figure out where to even start with giving Natasha a piece of his mind, she propped her hip on the counter leisurely, lowly but very firmly requesting a privacy protocol from FRIDAY with her authorisation code. Only then, she looked at Steve, compassionate but no less apologetic.

“You got hurt when you managed to project, didn’t you?” she stated rather than asked and Steve could scoff. Because of course she knew. She knew everything.

“Yeah. Shot in the chest. Snapped back right away. Imagine my surprise,” he said, by some miracle keeping his voice even and matter-of-fact despite the explosive cocktail of emotions threatened to burst any second.

“I’m sorry.”

“And you should be,” Steve said, all too aware it was not the sorry he wanted to hear and his anger only spiked further. She was sorry he had got hurt. She was sorry he had not been prepared for the pain lingering. Sorry about him learning about it this way. But she was not at all regretting standing idly why you had suffered. And to think she called herself your friend. “What were you thinking? How could you-“

“It was not my secret to tell-”

“The hell it wasn’t!” Steve exploded at last, rising to his feet so fast he nearly knocked over the chair he had been sitting on. And Natasha, goddamn her, watched him steadily, not even flinching. How the hell was she so calm?! So indifferent? Did she not give a single damn- “Natasha, she’s in enormous amount of pain on daily basis! How the hell could you not share that?!”

Natasha only arched her eyebrow, a wordless comeback: so you are admitting to being in ‘an enormous amount of pain’ despite having told the doctor your pain was at 2 after the meds you had got?

Steve just scowled, heart thundering in his ribcage as his blood felt so hot it might actually start evaporating. What the-

“I’m pretty sure it’s not daily, but even if it was, it still wouldn’t be my secret to tell,” she said evenly, crossing her arms on her chest. “How did you feel back in the day when you still had chronic health issues? When they took one look at you, they knewsomething wasn’t quite right, and so they immediately started underestimating you?”

Steve just gritted his teeth, glaring. What the hell did that have got to do with that?

“And I’m sorry, what is it that you’re doing now?” she asked, a tinge of sarcasm to her voice. “I don’t hear you telling the team-“

Steve felt his hands curl into fists, the arm in his sling protesting against the move – but honestly, the flame of spite burned it away, taking over any sign of pain at the moment.

Was she serious?!

“The team isn’t assigning her to missions! They don’t need to know everything, they aren’t the ones unknowingly sending her to the field injured and it pain-“

“Oh, so it’s not the fact I didn’t tell you, it’s that you’re feeling guilty-“

“She could get herself killed, Natasha!” Steve snapped, fist hitting the table, droplets of coffee staining the surface just like the breathiness stained his voice, the nausea hitting him anew, his head spinning. “Did you think of that?! I can’t protect her—I can’t protect this team if I don’t have all the information! The pain doesn’t seem to affect functionality, but what do I know? I’m safe, not being hunted for sport. It might affect her range one of those days and it can get her hurt and killed! A second of hesitation, a second of not being at absolute best and she can catch a knife, a bullet, be kicked down the stairs or off a damn cliff, too weakened to hold on a railing and fall to her damn death, she can be taken and tortured-"

He didn’t register the burn in his chest intensifying until it was too late; images flickering in his mind, the blood staining his shirt and his hands dripping with it and yours, the stupid thigh-highs that would have driven him mad except they were soaked with your blood, your voice feeble, your shaking slippery hands suddenly appearing around a metal bar, cold wind slapping his face, biting into his skin, hand reaching out just a second too late, your screams, Bucky’s scream, like a hive in his skull-

Small warm hands on his shoulders, one barely laid there, the other squeezing hard, a harsh inhale through his burning windpipe.

“Steve. Look at me.”

Steve obliged, blinking the images away even as they persisted stubbornly, Natasha’s face, now softer, filling his vision, his chest rising and falling a little too fast, a stab of pain with every breath, dark spots dancing around Natasha’s concerned features.

Great.

Just great.

Fuck.

“Sorry.”

She just smiled, shaking her head and slowly letting go, stepping back to the counter and leaning on it, propping up on both palms. Steve’s face burned with embarrassment and too much oxygen, but he could not let that distract him from his point. And apparently, neither could Natasha.

“I hear you, Steve. I do. But you know me better than to think that I haven’t consider that,” she reminded him softly, and as much as Steve hated it, he had to admit that it was the truth. She did care about you too. She wouldn’t willingly gamble with your life.

God his chest and his throat was on fire.

“But she’s an adult, Steve. She’s an agent, a damn near perfect one. She knows best what she can and cannot handle. Whatever she’s facing… she’s working through it the best way she can at any given moment and she is at her best. We might not approve of her methods, but as long as it doesn’t affect her performance during missions, not approving and trying to convince her to change her ways is all we can do, especially if we don’t want to lose her – professionally or otherwise.”

Steve gulped, pointedly choosing to ignore the last bit as he considered Natasha’s words, however reluctantly. “We sure as well do not approve-“

“Shocking,” Natasha uttered dryly, one corner of her lips rising in a smirk despite her sincerity, as she kept advocating for her decisions as much as yours, now that Steve thought about it, remaining. “But it’s still her choice. Her body – her choice. Her methods. Careful, Steve, or you might end up sounding patronizing and controlling.”

Now against that, Steve had to protest.

“Hey, I don’t—”

Natasha only arched her eyebrows, lifting one hand to demonstrate a tiny space between her thumb and forefinger.

Steve’s shoulders sagged as he ran his hand down his face, the pain in his cheek at the action, and the insistent pain in his chest reminding him mockingly he was being a bit of a hypocrite and not being controlling and patronizing was exactly what he had been trying to do until he found out that Natasha… knew.

He sighed, glancing at her again, met with her smile, surprisingly inviting, considering he was practically yelling just a moment ago. It was a smile that felt familiar; laced with affection for her dumbass overbearing friend. Because she was his friend – and yours too. Perhaps better than he had thought.

“Did… did she tell you?”

“Does it matter?”

He remained silent, knowing she’d understand without him saying a single word.

It does to me.

And he wanted to know. Needed it. Even if the answer being yes was just going to hurt him more – not because you trusting Natasha with this wasn’t a good thing, but because that would mean you had trusted Natasha and not him. Which would be completely understandable, given your track record with him until recently, but it still stung like son of a bitch, because goddamnit he should have known.

“She didn’t. I’m not that special,” Natasha stated, her smile turning a tad sad and ironic. “Her methods are pretty universal, keeping it secret from the whole team. No exceptions.”

It might have been rather mean of him – and he did not like how isolated you truly were and had been – but that actually made him feel a little better.

Especially since after today, it seemed that might change.

“Well, hopefully those methods will change,” Steve hinted, feeing tension melting off his body, lips once again spreading into a smile, even if a little shy one, warmth blossoming again where the rage had been turning his insides into a wasteland.

Natasha smirked a bit, mischief and amusement glimmering in her irises. “Got the Cap speech, did she?”

“…something like that, yeah.”

At that, she smiled wider; way too knowing to Steve’s liking. And yet, he felt his cheeks ache with how wide he was smiling now, a ghost of your touch caressing his hand.

“I see. Well. A piece of advice?” Natasha offered, not waiting for a confirmation of Steve actually wanting it. “Do try to remember she is a big girl – ties her own shoes, does her taxes and all that, okay? Do not screw it up by acting like you need to sweep in and save her from everything including herself. Please. You both deserve a win.”

At that, Steve sighed, but genuinely tried to etch her words into his brain, because he had been told before – and had to admit it was not an incorrect assessment – he could get rather overbearing, even as his intentions were good.

So yes, he’d try. If there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that as fragile as the bond you had begun to build was, you were everything but. He fully agreed with Natasha’s point; he had even told you so. You were meeting his perhaps too high standard a little too well. That was one of the reasons why you captivated him. He just needed to remember that when he’d feel like locking you in the tower and never sending you to another mission again in order to keep you safe.

Not that you wouldn’t be able to escape, be in in physical or spectral form, because you were simple that capable.

“Duly noted,” he grumbled.

Natasha grinned, lightly tapping his shoulder.

“Good boy. Now, this had better be the only cup of coffee you get,” she pointed at the half-drunk cup, her voice allowing protests. “You need to rest for god’s sake. You’ve got shot. Twice, apparently. Jesus, Steve. Talk about hypocrisy.”

“Alright, alright. Quit being bossy. I’m still the Captain, you know.”

“Oh boooo. Trembling in my shoes, Captain,” she retorted cheekily.

Steve mirrored her smirk, knowing she wasn’t actually undermining his authority. Only calling him out… which was rather fair. And he needed that sort of people in his life, he had enough self-awareness to know that.

And he’d listen to her too. Once he’d complete all the tasks he had planned, especially the report; because while there were things he wished to remember, there was still the majority of the mission that he’d rather put it behind him forever.

But since his watch just vibrated with a high-priority message from an operative of the highest-level, he had to add meeting them to the list.

The fact that operative was Coulson – the current director of SHIELD and your former boss – was both rather soothing, and worrisome.

Next chapter

Series masterlist // S.R. masterlist

HA. Not me having to pokerface hard when some of you told me that Daisy would be the number one shipper or that Coulson would weep and I already had a line about it three full chapters ahead (so like five chapters ahead) 🤭

Thank you for reading! Feedback, as always, is appreciated, and keep me inspired when I'm in the pit of despair, thinking I will never finish another chapter (which is shocking right, when I write them 15k long... well). May your days be sweet to you as Steve was to Spectre 💗

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #captain america x you #captain america #agent reader #inhuman reader #avenger reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #back and forth #anika ann

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gatorbites-imagines · 2 years ago

Text

Masterlist 2

Emoji Guide

Dark themes = 🖤

Smut = ❤️

Find Masterlist 1 here

Marvel

-Steve Rogers

Steve Rogers and his 200 year old partner who he calls daddy (mild ❤️ mentions)

Steve Rogers and his 200 year old partner, ft Logan Howlett, threesome( ❤️)

Steve Rogers x male reader with a choking kink (mild ❤️)

-Moon knight

The moonboys with a male reader whos a stoic tall history teacher

The moonboys (mainly Steven) watching horror movies with alien male reader

The moonboys with a lover who has C-PTSD

The moonboys with omegaverse, with a beta reader.

Moonboys and Khonshu with a touch starved reader

Moonboys with a summer-like reader

-Namor/kukulkan

“Clipped wings” Part 1 Namor x mutant reader

-Eddie Brock(and venom)

Eddie and Venom with a ftm reader

-Andrew Garfield (tasm) Peter Parker

Peter Parker x deadpool male reader

tasm Peter Parker nsfw alphabet❤️

-Scott Summers/Cyclops

Scott Summers x Mutant male reader where theyre best friends but pine for years (❤️)

-Logan Howlett/Wolverine

Logan x cyclops variant male reader, post deadpool 3

Logan x Gambit variant male reader, with daddy kink (mild ❤️)

Logan being desperate for male reader, ft some consensual somno❤️

Sub Logan being desperate for praise and affection

-Remy Lebeau/The Gambit

Remy Lebeau x sea monster mutant male reader

Remy Lebeau x sea monster mutant male reader part 2 (mild ❤️ mentions)

Remy Lebeau and his Cajun childhood sweetheart.

-Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler

Kurt Wagner x actual demon prince of hell male reader

-Victor Creed/Sabretooth

Victor Creed random relationship headcanons

-Multiple

Logan and Wade having a brat off and sub bottoming for a cable variant male reader ❤️

Scott, Kurt, Remy, Bobby and Logan with a reader that likes to crochet

Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes x FTM reader during the 40s (mild ❤️)

Spiderverse

-Miguel O’Hara

Miguel O’Hara scent/sweat smut drabble❤️

-Peter B Parker

Peter B Parker with a narcoleptic boyfriend

-Hobie Brown

Hobie Brown with a boyfriend whos a juggalo and a fellow spiderman

Hobie Brown sfw alphabet

Hobie Brown nsfw alphabet ❤️

Hobie Brown x deadpool male reader

Hobie brown x lead guitarist male reader

Hobie Brown x Male reader whos spiderman and the son of Miguel from another dimension

Hobie Brown x insecure male reader

-Pavitr Prabhakar

Pavitr Prabhakar sfw alphabet

-Peter Benjamin Parker/Spidernoir

Spidernoir with a ftm reader

Spidernoir with a lover who keeps touching his web slit/spinnerette ❤️(a little bit)

-Ben Reilly

Ben Reilly is in spider heat and wants nothing more than for you to dominate him ❤️

-Multiple

Miles and Prowler Miles with a black cat reader whos in love with miles, and is dead in earth-42.

Relationship headcanons for Miles Morales, Miguel O'hara and Hobie Brown.

Platonic/parental headcanons for Peter B and Miguel with a spiderman male reader whos very protective

-Bruce Wayne

Bruce Wayne x male reader cuddling and edging, drabble ❤️

Bruce Wayne x male reader, meeting the family

-Dick Grayson

Dick Grayson x male reader whos a dancer and hero

Dick Grayson x powered male reader whos the son of oliver queen

Dick Grayson x clarks son reader, who are hopelessly in love.

Dick Grayson x Rogue doctor male reader

Dick Grayson x Plastic man clone male reader

-Jason Todd

Jason having a depressive episode and the reader takes care of him, so he goes into subspace ❤️

Jason todd x older vigilante male reader, part two (little bit of ❤️)

Jason Todd x snobby rich male reader with brat taming ❤️

Jason Todd x ftm reader, going to pride, and Jason beating up a transphobe

Jason Todd x ftm reader, slow mornings with their two cats

-Tim Drake

Tim Drake x ftm reader, ft cuddling and homemade coffee

Tim Drake x flirty son of Trigon male reader, whos a sorcerer vigilante

Tim Drake x autistic male reader, where they mirror eachother, ft the batfams reaction to that

Being Tim Drakes boyfriend and his family is protective of him

Tim Drake x male reader, pulling all nighters and falling asleep

Tim Drake x older male reader

Tim Drake x iceman male reader, christmas fluff

-Damian Wayne

Platonic Damian with a Alien reader who pretty much adopts him

-Wally West

Wally West with an autistic male reader

FTM Wally West x Male reader with Wally being eaten out drabble❤️

Wally West x FTM daredevil reader whos dysphoric (mild ❤️)

-Barry Allen

Barry Allen x cat burglar male reader

Barry Allen x alien male reader whos culture roughhouses

-Eobard Thawne

Eobard Thawne with a male reader whos just a normal guy.

-Roy Harper

Roy Harper with a villain male reader

-Clark Kent/Kal-el

Clark Kent being flirted with by a rich male reader, instead of reader flirting with Lois

Clark Kent with a kryptonian partner, featuring scent kink and kryptonian words ❤️

Clark Kent just needing a good cuddle after a long day

-Conner Kent/Kon-El

Conner Kent with a male reader, featuring kryptonian headcanons ❤️(a little)

Conner Kent with a male reader whos culture is similar to kryptonians and who purrs

Conner Kent with a male reader whos stoic around everyone, but cocky and smug with him

Conner Kent with a male reader whos a clone of plastic man.

Conner Kent discovering his kryptonian biology (very mild ❤️)

-Hal Jordan

Hal Jordan x Red Lantern Czarnian male reader (slight ❤️)

Hal Jordan x male reader, with a scent/musk kink ❤️

-Guy Gardner

Guy Gardner relationship headcanons

Guy Gardner nsfw alphabet ❤️

Guy Gardner trying to top fellow lantern reader, but being dominated ❤️

Guy Gardner being put in subspace by his star sapphire lover, with sounding ❤️

-John Constantine

Constantine nsfw alphabet ❤️

Constantine with a male reader whos like Dean Winchester from Supernatural

Constantine x tattoo artist male reader (mild ❤️)

Constantine x Angel male reader

- Patrick “Eel” O’Brian

Patrick “Eel” O’Brian sfw alphabet

-Lawrence “Larry” Trainor

Larry and his victorian invisible man scientist lover who also wears bandages

-Harvey Dent/Two-Face

Harvey Dent with a male reader who distracts him during work

Harvey Dent/Two-Face cuddle fluff

-Bane

Bane x FTM reader general headcanons

More Bane x FTM reader fluffy headcanons

-Waylon Jones/Killer Croc

Waylon Jones with his Jessica Rabbit level hot partner (some ❤️)

-Minhkhoa Khan/Ghostmaker

Minhkhoa Khan relationship headcanons

-Multiple

Yandere Jason x speedster male reader x Yandere Dick

Yandere Jason x speedster male reader x Yandere Dick part 2 🖤

Batboys with a villain reader who constantly flirts with them

DC characters and my personal headcanons for them (ethnicity, gender, etc)

Martian Headcanons

Kryptonian Headcanons

Dick grayson x Wally West x male reader

Platonic batfam with a kid reader whos a clone of jason, raised by the Joker

Platonic Batfam with a sick vigilante male reader who wont rest

Hal Jordan and Conner Kent with a reader who fakes an orgasm (mild ❤️)

Invincible

-Nolan Grayson/Omni-man

Nolan Grayson nsfw alphabet ❤️

-Mark Grayson/Invincible

Mark Grayson Yandere Alphabet 🖤

Mark Grayson nsfw Alphabet ❤️

Mark Grayson x constantine-like male reader

Mark Grayson in subspace with his Kryptonian lover ❤️

-Rex Sloan/Rex Splode

Rex x gcn ftm reader and defending them when they get misgendered

-The Immortal

The Immortal x immortal reader who isnt a hero

-Flaxan leader

Flaxan leader with an anti-hero male reader

-Damien Darkblood

Damien Darkblood x detective male reader, wholesome fluff

-Multiple

Nolan and Allen x small but strong ftm reader

Star Wars

-Anakin Skywalker

Padawan Anakin Skywalker x dark side leaning male reader

Anakin Skywalker x mandalorian reader with cockwarming ❤️

Anakin Skywalker flirting with the reader and making out

-Paz Vizsla

Paz Vizsla x sith male reader, ft Darth Revan and lots of headcanons

Paz Vizsla x ftm reader headcanons

-Din Djarin

Din Djarin adopting a foundling pantoran reader and being a father figure.

FTM Din Djarin getting eaten out in his pilot seat with his armor on ❤️

-Boba Fett

Boba Fett x male reader with gunplay❤️

The Boys

-Billy Butcher

Billy Butcher x male reader whos Homelanders brother

DomBot Billy Butcher x SubTop supe reader ❤️

-Homelander/John Gillman

Homelander x supe male reader whos much more powerful than him ❤️

Homelander dating a ftm reader

Homelander with a partner with self harm scars

-The Deep/Kevin Moskowitz

The Deep x male reader where he gets off just having his gills played with ❤️

-Multiple

A-Train, MM, Frenchie and Hughie as boyfriends, headcanons

Yautja

-Ge'jaar (OC)

Elder yautja OC (Ge'jaar) x retired hunter male reader whos got pet xenomorphs

Slashers

-Jason Voorhees

Jason with a male reader whos childhood friends who meet again years later

Jason Voorhees nsfw alphabet ❤️

-Michael Myers

Michael Myers and a male reader whos his doctor

-Chad Martin-Meeks

Chad with a male reader who grew up together and fell in love.

-Billy Lenz

Billy Lenz with somnophilia ❤️(🖤 cuz theres no explicit consent)

-Poly Ghostface

Billy and Stu with a male reader who has anger issues whos tired of being angry

Billy and Stu comforting their lover who has body dysmorphia

-Multiple

Norman, Patrick, Michael, Jason, Brahms, Billy and Stu with an S/O whos as crazy as them without realizing

One Piece

-Donquixote Doflamingo

Doflamingo with a lover whos shorter than him

Yandere Doflamingo with a male reader who gets stockholm syndrome ❤️(🖤 a bit, cuz yandere)

Doflamingo x young adult male reader with back pains

-Sir Crocodile

Ftm Sir Crocodile being fucked into submission by the reader ❤️

-Dracule Mihawk

FTM dracule mihawk x service top male reader ❤️

-Red Haired Shanks

Shanks x martial artist male reader whos love language is physical affection and words of affirmation

-Trafalgar D Water Law

Law being Bratty and being punished by a bigger Zoan fruit male reader ❤️

Law with a tall intimidating male reader who everyone thinks is the top (mild ❤️)

-Vinsmoke/Black Leg Sanji

Sanji being tied up and desperate to touch the reader ❤️

Reader spanking Sanji to let off some steam ❤️

-Roronoa Zoro

Reader punishing/spanking Zoro, but it ends up with them arguing, but making up❤️

-Edward “Whitebeard” Newgate

Whitebeard with a tall male reader whos never been shorter than anyone before ❤️

-Smoker the white hunter

Smoker SFW alphabet

-multiple

Roronoa Zoro and Portgas D Ace and sounding ❤️

Teen Wolf

-Jackson Whittmore

overall Jackson Whittmore nsfw headcanons ❤️

-Scott McCall

Bottom Scott McCall x kanima-werewolf male reader, ft some tailplay ❤️

Rick and Morty

-Rick Sanchez

Yandere Rick Prime headcanons 🖤

Ovetime

-Josiah Nguyen

Yandere Josiah headcanons 🖤

Call of Duty

-Simon “Ghost” Riley

Ghost being secretly married to Soaps brother

Ftm Ghost x male reader smut drabble ❤️

-Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Ftm Gaz x male reader, pussydrunk reader with overstim, drabble ❤️

-Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra

Dom rudy headcanons along with a few cute ones ❤️

-Phillip Graves

Graves with a male reader whos gone through a near death experience

Graves with a vampire boyfriend

-Multiple

141 with a male reader who wears a lot of dog tags

Poly Alerudy with a male reader whos childhood best friends and post lovers with Soap

Cod boys with a male reader who wears a mask and has a huge burn scar

Cod boys with a reader who repeats words or phrases they say

Poly alerudy with a short male reader

Alejandro and Graves with a reader who rubs their face against their stubble

Poly alerudy with a tall male reader who is basically a giant cat

Alejandro, Rudy, Graves and Soap with a reader whos create as copying noises

Ghost, Soap, Alejandro, Rudy, and König with a reader whos a famous volleyball player

Alejandro and Rudy with a mute s/o

141 with an autistic reader who makes noises, like meowing and hissing

Soap, Gaz, Ghost, Roach and Graves as pups with petplay❤️

Alejandro and Rudy taking care of their sick and hurt lover

Lookism

-Multiple

Lookism characters with a male reader who has a squishable chest and butt

Barbie (2023)

-Kenneth “Ken” Sean Carson

Ken x male reader drabble, where Ken gives the reader head and has a praise kink ❤️

Stereotypical Ken x Male reader x Pompadour Ken where they compete whos best ❤️

Baldurs Gate 3

-Astarion Ancunín

Astarion with a Bard Tiefling male reader, random headcanons

Fight Club

-Jack/The Narrator

Jack x medical staff male reader (drabble, from jacks pov)

-multiple

Tyler Durden and Jack “The narrator” throuple relationship headcanons

Scott Pilgrim Takes off

-Todd Ingram

Helping Todd Ingram get over his crush on Wallace and it leads to make outs.

-Stephen Stills

Stephen Stills x male reader meeting in a club ❤️

My Hero Academia

-Enji Todoroki/Endeavor

Reformed Enji with a hero male reader whos very flirty when they are on patrol

-Katsuki Bakugou

Katsuki being self-conscious about wearing lingerie (mild ❤️)

Omega Katsuki helping his ace Alpha partner through their rut

-Tomura Shigaraki

Pre-war Shigaraki with his lover whos vaguely based off Yaga from JJK and their relationship.

Jujutsu Kaisen

-Nanami Kento

Nanami giving dom/top reader aftercare (mild ❤️)

-Ryomen Sukuna

Chubby heian era/true form sukuna x chubby ftm reader, sweet and cuddly hc

Nosferatu 2024

-Count Byron Orlok

Count Byron Orlok x werewolf male reader, with lotsa worldbuilding (some 🖤)

-Friedrich Harding

Friedrich Harding x Dhampir male reader (some mild ❤️)

697 notes · View notes

crazyunsexycool · 1 year ago

Text

Heart’s Munition

Chapter 4

Pairing: Mob boss!Steve Rogers x Maid single mom!reader

Word count: 6.9k

Warnings: mentions of blood, hospital visits, mentions of a seizure, Elijah being a lil shit (in a cute way of course),

Series Masterlist

“Where is she?” Steve demanded an answer through gritted teeth.

“She’s resting in her room.”

“Why didn’t anyone call me sooner?”

Steve took the stairs two at a time. He was furious and someone would be paying for this soon enough.

“You had that meeting with Hansen. If I remember correctly you said to not disturb you because you wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. Also the doctor was with her anyway.” Bucky said as he followed Steve up the stairs.

Steve didn’t knock, he just slammed the door open. Peter sat at the foot of the bed and jumped at the sound.

“What the fuck?” You said as you walked out of the bathroom. “Can you be more careful?”

“Who did this?” Steve ignored your question and looked from Peter to Nat, who was reluctantly laying in bed.

She had been cornered while she was alone. Now Nat was a good fighter, even one of Steve’s best. She also had gained his trust a long time ago, along with Bucky and Sam. So whoever did this knew her abilities to defend herself and still managed to get the upper hand. That wasn’t good, it meant his people were being watched.

“You know who it was. They were sending a message. If they can get to us, they can get to you.” Nat said between pained breaths. She looked bad. Black and blue bruises all over her face and chest. She had a cut lip and a few scratches as well as one eye shut due to the swelling.

“We’re going to send a message back. Do you know who actually did it?”

“It was Quentin Beck.” That was all Steve needed to hear before he was out the door. Bucky again followed closely behind.

“Do you need anything else Nat?”

“I’d like to sit up a bit more.”

“Sure thing. Peter, come help me.” You moved around the bed and helped her sit up while Peter added some pillows behind her.

“Thanks. Peter, could you get me my gym bag, it’s in the trunk of my car.”

“Sure thing.”

Peter hurried out of the room and Nat looked over at the nightstand and then around the room.

“Have you seen my phone?”

“You didn’t have a phone on you when you were brought in.”

“Fuck. Ok, you need to tell Steve they probably have my phone. Go.”

You say a quick ok as you hurry down the stairs and into the hallway that leads to Steve’s office. He’s yelling orders, you can hear his voice by the stairs. It takes you knocking a few times before Sam opens the door. The tension in the room is palpable.

“What?” Steve snaps.

“Nat wanted me to tell you that she thinks they have her phone.”

“Fuck. We have to go now. Someone call Jensen and Stark, let them know they need to burn the phone.”

Everyone starts walking out and you ask them to be safe. You close the door before Steve can walk out and the glare he sends your way would make anyone flinch but you don’t.

“Get out of my way.”

“Listen I know you’re angry but you need to calm down.”

“Calm down? Are you serious? One of the people I swore to protect almost died and you’re asking me to calm down?”

“Yes.” You say in a soft and almost sweet voice. “If you go out there blinded by rage how many more people will end up hurt? They’re already pissed enough as it is, you can’t afford to lose anyone else.”

You see his demeanor change slightly. He’s still angry but he’s reigning it in.

“Also if anyone else ends up hurt I’m going to be pissed as fuck.”

The corner of his mouth lifts a little. The smile is barely there but you’ll take it.

“Even if it's me?” He asks.

“Meh- depends on how injured you are.”

He smiles this time but it’s gone just as quickly.

“Be safe out there and make sure you kick some ass.”

“You’ll take care of her for me?”

“You know it.”

Steve nods in your direction before walking out and you sigh. It was barely morning and the chaos of it all was already giving you a headache. But you marched up the stairs again and checked up on Nat one more time before starting on your regular duties.

When your work day ended you waited about half an hour and no sign of Steve or his men. Dom and Coulson both nagged until you left.

You had been asleep for maybe half an hour when your phone rang. With Eli getting worse you were sleeping less. So you were in a bad mood as you answered the phone.

“What?” You didn’t even know who you snapped at.

“I’m sorry for calling at this time but we need you at the house.”

“Coulson? What happened?”

“I’ll tell you when you get here. You’ll be getting paid four times your regular pay.”

“Uh- I need… I need a few minutes.”

“That’s fine. Dom will pick you up.” He didn’t wait for you to reply.

“Fuck.” You mutter as you dial Mrs. Fields number and ask her to stay with Elijah.

****

“What the fuck happened?” Your eyes grew wide as you took in the living space. There was blood everywhere. The floor, the walls and the furniture. It’s like the fight had happened right there.

“They just got back not too long ago. No one is seriously injured but we need to get rid of the blood. Boss only trusts you and that you won’t say anything.”

“Of course not. Before I start with the cleaning, does anyone need anything?”

“Probably some steady hands. The adrenaline is wearing off by now. They’re taking care of their wounds.” Coulson informs you as he nods towards Steve’s office.

****

“It’s gonna hurt baby but I’ll be quick.”

“I’ve heard that before.” You hear Bucky say with a chuckle.

“You guys are together?” You ask from the door.

Both Sam and Bucky turn to the door, the latter turning red immediately. Sam just gives you a small smile.

“You didn’t know?” Sam asks.

“Didn’t have a clue, you guys are cute together.”

“You hear that babe, we’re cute together.”

“I knew that already Samuel.” Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Anyways, what are you doing here?”

“Doing what I always do, cleaning up your messes. But I wanted to check in to see if anyone needed anything.”

“We’re good here but maybe check in on Steve. He’s up in his room. The other guys are in the kitchen.” Sam says and you just nod and leave them be. You can hear them saying sweet nothings to each other and can’t help but smile.

As you walk back out toward the living room you see Clint and Scott on one of the couches. They were beaten and bloodied too and they were getting the couch dirty. You sent a worried glance in their direction but they just waved you off as they rummaged through the first aid kit. On the stairs there were drops of blood everywhere and they led all the way to the third floor, Steve’s floor. It made you wonder how bad it had been and if this was a win or a loss for him.

You knocked at the door, where you could see a smudge of blood on the doorknob. There was no answer so you knocked again and still nothing. Worry settled into the pit of your stomach at the thought that he may be passed out on the floor. You open the door and call out his name but nothing. His clothes are on the floor by the bathroom and you hurry over and knock but don’t really wait for a response.

“Steve, are you o-oh my god! I’m so sorry.” You turn around and cover your eyes when you realize his state of undress.

“Y/N, It’s ok I have sweats on.”

“Still I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to barge in on you like this. It’s just you didn’t respond and I saw the blood so I thought you needed help.” You rushed out.

“It’s really ok, you can turn around now.”

You drop your hand and turn around, he does in fact have sweats on. How had you not noticed? More importantly, how had you not noticed the injuries he had? The longer you stare the more you realize he has tattoos all over.

“What the hell happened?” You rushed over, completely forgetting the embarrassing moment just seconds ago.

“A fight.”

“Yeah but everyone looks like shit. Did you lose?”

“Not really.”

“Well if this is you winning I don’t want to see you losing.” You say as you look up at him. “Let me get the first aid kit.” You turn and head to where Steve keeps the first aid kit. “Sit.” You motion for him to sit on the countertop.

“Why here?”

“Because my back hurts and this will be easier to reach the cuts.”

He just nods and sits where you told him to. Steve’s breathing is even until you touch him around his ribs. You think it’s because there’s pain but he knows better. The light touch of your fingers on his skin sends shivers down his spine and although he’s imagined your hands on him it was never like this.

“Steve?”

“Sorry what?” He looks down at you.

“I think you might have a concussion or some type of head injury.”

“No, I was just thinking about what needs to happen next. I’m fine.” He says but really he was thinking about how your touch would feel everywhere else on his body.

“Ok well this is going to hurt.”

You work silently the next few minutes, cleaning and bandaging him up. During the whole process you feel his eyes on you. Every move you make he watches silently.

“Ok, all done.” You put away all of the supplies and make a mental note to have Coulson refill it. “I should go and get started.”

“Thank you, for everything.”

“Of course. Call me if you need anything and please rest.”

“Doctor’s orders?” He teases and you level him with your best mom glare. “Fine. I’ll rest. Maybe I should have put you out there to interrogate people.”

“The house would be less bloodied.” You murmur before pointing at the bed. “In bed, now.”

“Ok mom.”

You laughed because he sounded so childish but you noticed the way his eyes softened as you did. Like you instructed Steve laid in bed but grabbed his phone and made some calls. There was more to be done and Quentin Beck still needed to answer for what he did.

You made it home right around noon and were beyond exhausted. You dismissed Mrs. Fields and took a quick shower, thankful that Elijah was taking a nap. Instead of going to your couch you scooped him up and cuddled with him as you took a nap of your own.

The afternoon was spent in a daze. Some sleep, some tv and some food while you stayed close to Elijah. At around nine at night you get a text from Coulson telling you to sleep tight. It was code for don't leave your apartment, which meant that whatever was going on with Steve and his enemies was close to where you were.

For most of the night it was fine. You were watching a movie with Elijah but when you turned to tell him something he was slumped to the side. His breathing was shallow and he was non responsive. You panicked and dressed in your pajamas you grabbed him and your purse in order to get to the hospital.

*****

Steve and the rest of his men had taken up residence in the waiting room of the hospital. Everything had gone sideways in a heartbeat and now they were waiting for news for one of their own. He was already anxious enough but the next few minutes would leave him utterly confused.

“Help! Someone please… he’s not breathing.” Steve heard your voice, frantic and desperate as you walked in through the emergency room doors.

Bucky and Sam immediately got up and stood next to him to see what was going on. The last thing they expected was that you were carrying a child.

“Please, help him! He’s not fucking breathing.”

Your second cry for help snapped Steve into action.

“You,” he pointed at a nurse that was taking his sweet time on the phone. “Get your ass up and help her.” He got in the nurse’s face, his voice low and menacing. “If something happens to him I will end you.”

The nurse looked like he was going to shit himself. He rushed over to you as he called out for a stretcher. He asked you a few things before rushing him in to get Elijah breathing again. Steve had to hold you back from running after them.

“It’s ok, He’s getting help. You need to calm down, sweetheart.” He whispered but you still tried to free yourself from him embrace.

“Please he has to be ok.”

“Hey,” Bucky cups your face and wipes away the tears. “He’s going to be just fine.”

“You don’t know that.”

“They’re going to do everything they can, Doll. But we need you to breathe. You have to be ok when he wakes up.”

Bucky grabs your hand and places it on his chest and he takes a quick look at Steve who is still holding you. Both of them match their breathing as Steve softly asks you to do the same and eventually you calm down.

“Sweetheart,” Steve turns you around so that he can look at you. Your eyes are red and your cheeks are tear strained. It breaks his heart to see you like this. “Who is that? Is he your little brother or something.”

By now he had pulled you into the waiting room the rest of his men were at. They all knew you so they were concerned at seeing you so distraught.

“He’s my son.” You say in a low sad voice.

Steve was left speechless and so was everyone else. Never in his life did he imagine you to be a mother but a lot of things clicked into place. He silently told two of his men to move to allow you a seat and of course one next to you for himself. Steve never lets you go though, he keeps you tucked into his side but you’re too upset to notice the closeness.

“You have a son? Since when?” Sam asks.

“Since eight years ago.”

“This isn’t one of those situations where your parents died and you had to take care of your little brother so now you’re technically his mom but not really?” Scott asked really fast. Steve shot him a glare over your head.

“He’s my son, my baby ok. I carried him for nine months in my belly. I have the pictures to prove it or I can show you the video of me pushing him out of my vagina if you want. ” You snapped.

“Sorry, it’s just, you’re so young.”

You rolled your eyes.

“It’s called a teen pregnancy, look it up.” Then you look at him and frown. “I’m sorry Scott I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“Ok that’s enough, everyone out. Except for Bucky and Sam.” Steve ordered, reluctantly the men left.

“Thanks.”

“No problem, sweetheart.”

He’s called you sweetheart three times in the last few minutes but you don’t say anything. Right now you relish having someone at your side. Sitting alone in the waiting room was always the second hardest thing for you to do.

“Do you need us to call someone?” Steve asks and pulls out his phone.

“No.”

“No? Your parents or your son’s father?”

You give him a humorless laugh.

“The latter broke up with me the minute I told him I was pregnant and the former kicked me out when they found out. So no, there’s no one to call.” You sighed, “Wait, maybe Peter? He knows about Eli. So does Coulson and Dom by the way.”

“I’ll call Dom, I’m sure he won’t mind coming in.”

“Wait, where is Peter? I haven’t heard from him all day.” You look from Bucky and Sam to Steve. None of them would look you in the eyes and you sat up straighter. “Why are you even at the hospital?”

“Sweet-“

“Don’t sweetheart me. Why are you here?” You ask again, cutting Steve off.

“He was shot. He’s currently in surgery, that's why we’re here.”

“Bucky what the fuck.”

“Thanks Bucky, at least you had the decency to tell me.” You glare up at Steve.

“I didn’t want to stress you out more than you already were.”

“Family of Elijah Y/L/N?” A nurse calls out from the doorway. Immediately all four of you get up.

“Is he ok?”

“Yes, we got him stabilized and we’ll be moving him to a room. Why don’t you follow me and I’ll take you to him. Only two people at a time though.”

“It’s just me.” You give the nurse a sad smile. You’ve only taken one step when someone grabs your hand.

“And me. Call me when you hear about Peter.”

Steve squeezes your hand to reassure you that he’s there for you. Both of you silently follow the nurse as she brings you to the small room Elijah is in until he’s moved upstairs. The moment you’re behind the closed curtain you rush over to his side. You take his hand and lean down to press a few kisses on his forehead before whispering that you’re there with him. Steve just stands back and watches the scene unfold. His heart aches for you and he wants nothing more than to give you some sort of comfort.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what does he have?” Steve asks after a few minutes of silence.

“The doctors don’t know what’s wrong with him or how to help. He’s been sick for about a year. We’ve tried different medicines but nothing seems to really work. He has his good days but recently it’s been all bad days. ”

You struggle to hold back a sob. Elijah’s health has been declining so quickly that you fear it’s only a matter of weeks or even days before you lose him. Steve gets closer to you and pulls you into a hug. You cling to him like your life depended on it. Even with Mrs. Fields there to help you, you’ve always felt truly alone in life. Somehow it felt different with Steve there.

Steve excuses himself for a moment and disappears outside of the curtain. Just as quickly as he left he comes back and wraps you in another hug.

The sound of the curtain being pulled back has you moving away from him. A young man walks in with a tired smile on his face and lets you know he’ll be moving Elijah. He moves around the space efficiently and soon enough he starts pushing the hospital bed down the hallway. Steve places a hand on your lower back and guides you. He doesn’t stop you from leaning into him while the elevator goes up. Your eyes are half closed when Eli is finally set up in a private room. That wakes you up and you’re quick to protest that you can’t afford a private room.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of it.” Steve tells you.

“What? No way. He’ll be fine in a shared room. There’s no way my insurance will cover this.”

Steve cups your face so that you have to look at him. His expression is stern as he looks at you.

“I don’t like repeating myself, sweetheart. But I will right now. Don’t worry about it, you focus on Elijah. That’s all you have to do, try to rest so that when he wakes up you can be there for him.”

“Fine,” you murmur before looking at the clock on the wall. “I can squeeze in two hours of sleep before I have to be in.”

“Be in where?”

“For work?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Steve mutters, looking st you completely dumbfounded. He has never met anyone that has made him go through so many emotions in such a small time frame.

“No, I have to work. I need the money.”

“Fuck the money, Y/N. As of this moment you are on paid leave and you don’t come back until he’s out of this hospital.”

You shake your head. “I can’t accept that.”

“Well you don’t have a choice.”

You both start whisper yelling at each other now. Steve grabs you by your arm and pulls you outside of the room.

“I do and I’m going into work.”

“And who is going to be here when he wakes up?”

“My neighbor, she’s his sitter when I’m at work.”

Steve rubs a hand over his face. The situation hits way too close to home. The only difference is that now he has the power to do something and he won’t take no for an answer, even if he knows you’re stubborn as hell.

“If you had to choose between you being here or the sitter being here if money wasn’t an issue, which one would it be?”

“Me obviously.”

“And I’m giving you that opportunity. Please, don’t think about work or about your paycheck. I will pay you, I promise. Just be here for him. I promise you there won’t be anything that will make your kid happier than you being the first person he sees.”

Your eyes well up with tears again as you look from Steve to Elijah’s frail form on the bed.

“Ok, but only for a few days and then I’m back at work. I don’t like just taking money, I have to earn it.”

“For fucks sake woman. How about you take a week and then we’ll talk about it.”

“One.”

“This isn’t a negotiation.”

“One day and I’m back at work.”

“Five.”

“Two.”

“Three,” he gives an exasperated sigh before shaking his head. “Three days and we will talk before you even think about working again.”

“Fine. Also you have to let me know how Pete is doing.”

“Deal. So is this what Peter found out when I had him follow you.”

You nod as you walk into the room. At the other end there was a window seat that doubled as a bed. There was a pillow and a blanket already folded and ready for use.

“I begged him not to tell you.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want anyone to threaten Eli so that they could use me against you. I don’t want to put him at risk, I take a long way home just to make sure I’m not being followed.”

Steve’s hands were on his hips as he listened to you. That wasn’t something you should have to worry about when all you were doing was working to try and give your son a chance to live.

“Why not work somewhere else?”

“Because people don’t like to hire single mothers. Before I started working for you I had to work two to three jobs and I barely ever saw him. When I found the job posting as a maid I just went for it. It was enough that I could quit the other jobs and even get an apartment. But then he started getting sick and well here I am.”

He just nodded. It felt like he was watching memories from his childhood replaying right in front of him.

“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me or anything. I’ve managed just fine.”

“I don’t feel sorry for you. I admire you even more now.” Steve says. “Get some rest, I’m gonna head back to wait for news on Peter and Dom will be here in the morning. Anything you need he’ll get it for you.”

“Thank you.”

Steve just offers a small smile and walks out.

By day break Steve was already back on his way to the room Elijah had been set up in. He had some coffee and breakfast for you, as well as good news about Peter. Thinking you’d be awake he was already calling your name as he walked in.

“Y/N, the surgery was a success.” He stopped in the middle of the room when he realized you were asleep beside Eli’s bed. He frowned when he saw you hunched over sitting on a chair while holding your son’s hand.

Steve was surprised to find your son looking back at him. He placed the coffee and breakfast down on a table and moved the other side of the bed.

“Hi Elijah, how are you feeling kid?”

“Are you my doctor? You don’t look like one.” Eli asked in a hushed voice as he sized up Steve. He looked frail but tough.

“No, I’m your mom’s friend.”

“Wrong.” Elijah furrowed his brows. “My mom doesn’t have friends. And she doesn’t have a boyfriend either, so you’re not that.”

Steve chuckled but then cleared his throat when he saw Elijah was glowering at him.

“Well I’m sure she does have friends. But anyways, you can call me Steve and I'm your mom’s boss.”

“Oh, and you brought her breakfast?”

“Yeah. Is that bad?”

Eli shook his head. “No, but I’ve heard mom tell Mrs. Fields you’re an ass. So that was nice of you.”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh at that. Elijah was a little copy of you, especially that mouth of his.

“So how are you feeling bub?” Steve sat down as he waited for an answer.

Elijah looked from Steve to you and back. A certain kind of sorrow that no eight year old should ever experience crossed his eyes.

“My tummy hurts and so does my head. But really I’m worried about ma.”

Steve’s eyes softened as they looked your way.

“She’s barely been sleeping. I know she checks in on me while I sleep. And I know that she was probably really scared last night.” His lower lips trembled. “And I’m scared too.”

Steve’s heart ached for this kid. He knew exactly how he felt, having to spend so many nights in the emergency room with his own mother.

“Scared of what?”

“That I won’t get better and then ma is gonna be all alone.”

If mob bosses cried this is where it would happen. Steve had to look away for a moment and compose himself.

“Well, I’m not going to let that happen. I’m gonna make sure you see the best doctors available. But I need you to promise me something.”

“What?”

“That you’re not gonna give up. Even when you’re in pain or extra sick, you’re gonna keep fighting.”

“I promise.”

“Good.” Steve smiles. “Now, how about you wake her up and I’ll have the food reheated.”

“Ok.”

Steve stood up and grabbed everything. Just as he headed toward the door he could hear Elijah calling you softly. With a look over his shoulder he could see him gently caressing your face.

****

You stirred from your very uncomfortable sleeping position and were greeted with a very happy Elijah.

“Eli.” You smiled as you sat up and stretched. Immediately you felt the ache in your body from having fallen asleep the way you did. It didn’t matter though, your sweet boy was awake and that’s all you could ask for. “How long have you been awake?”

“A while.”

“Then let me get a nurse.”

“One already came by. I asked her not to wake you up. She didn’t say much, just that everything looked fine.”

“Ok, well I’ll ask when someone comes back. Did they say you can have breakfast?”

“Yeah, it will get delivered at the regular time.” Eli nods.

“Ok good.”

You smile again at him and stand to kiss his forehead. As you pull back you hear footsteps and assume it’s a nurse.

“Good you’re up.” Steve says as he stroll in. “Got you breakfast.”

You just looked at him for a moment. Surprised by the kind gesture you give him a quick thank you before taking what was in his hand.

“Elijah, this is my boss.”

“Steve, I know.”

“It’s Mr. Rogers to you.” You corrected.

“I told him he could call me Steve.”

“When did this conversation happen?”

“While you were drooling on your arm.” Steve teases. You send a playful glare, the exchange making Elijah giggle.

“How is he?”

“The surgery was a success.”

“Oh good.” You breathe a sigh of relief.

“What surgery?”

You looked over at Elijah wondering if you should tell him or not. “Peter got hurt. He had to have surgery but he’s ok now.”

“Oh, can we visit him?”

“I’ll see what we can do.”

There was a little knock on the doorframe and you all turned to see Bucky and Sam. They both had their arms full of bags and smiles on their faces.

“Good morning.” Bucky said as he walked in and proceeded to dump all of his bags on the window seat. “Hey kid.”

Elijah just looked at you waiting for an explanation.

“Eli, this is Bucky. My friend.”

“But-“

“If you finish that sentence you’re gonna be grounded until you’re 30.”

“You never told me you had friends. Why haven’t I met him before?”

“Because we’re new friends, kid. I also work with Steve and we’re best friends.”

“And him?” Eli motions to Sam who was also placing bags on the seat.

“I’m Sam. I’m also friends with your mom and with Steve.”

“What about Bucky?”

Sam and Bucky look at you to see if you were ok with Elijah knowing.

“Sam and Bucky are partners, baby.”

“Like cops or like boyfriends?” Eli asks.

“Like boyfriends.”

“Ma?”

The tone of his voice let you know he was about to destroy you with whatever he was going to say next. You frowned by m but answered anyway.

“Yeah?”

“If guys can have boyfriends now, you’re never gonna get one.”

Sam, Steve and Bucky started laughing and Elijah seemed very happy about it. Even if it was at your expense.

“Do you want your mom to have a boyfriend?” Bucky asks as he looks at Steve with a smirk.

“Maybe, but he’d have to go through me first. And I’m not gonna make it easy for him.”

“And now you have us and we’ll help you.” Sam adds.

“Ok, I think that’s enough about me. What did you guys bring?”

“Gifts.” Bucky announces with a smile. He moves over to the pile of bags and starts to walk some over to the bed. “These are ‘get well soon’ gifts. From your new uncles, kid.”

Elijah’s eyes were wide as he looked through the bags to find legos, remote controlled cars, a drone, another video game console, more video games and gift cards. He was so excited the nurse had to come in and check on him because his heart monitor was showing an increase in his heart beat.

“Can I keep it?” The question had been directed at you.

All eyes were on you. It wasn’t that you necessarily wanted to take these things away, you just wanted Eli to learn that not everyone would be as giving. To not expect everyone to just give him stuff, that sometimes he would have to work for what he wanted. Before you could say anything Steve caught your eye. He nodded with a small smile, silently telling you to let Eli keep everything.

“Of course you can, baby. You heard uncle Bucky. They’re ‘get well soon’ gifts. Now what do we say?”

“Thank you.” Eli beams.

“You’re welcome.”

Bucky and Sam move to sit beside him and the three of them start playing with some of the toys that are already on the bed.

“We’ve lost them.” Steve says jokingly as you walk to stand beside him.

“They’re gonna teach Eli everything I don’t want him to know aren’t they?”

“Yup.”

“I'm going to completely blame this on you.” You quip.

“I’ll take full responsibility. But while we’re here, I had them bring you some things too, so that you can freshen up if you want.”

Steve had started motioning for the other bags on the seat across the room when the monitors attached to Elijah started beeping erratically. He slumped backwards and he was unconscious on the bed.

“Get the toys off the bed.” You tell Sam and Bucky. The four of you move quickly and remove the last toy just as the nurses and a doctor walk in.

“Get them out of here.” A doctor instructs, referring to you and the guys.

Steve puts his arm around your waist and pulls you out of the room while you fight to stay beside Elijah.

“They need their space to work.” He mutters in your ear.

You stop trying to get out of his hold, it’s the only thing that’s keeping you up at the moment. Steve turns you away from the hospital room and into himself. Your silent tears make their way onto his dress shirt but neither you nor him seem to care.

“Ms. Y/L/N.” A doctor calls out as someone wheels out Elijah. “We are taking him to have some scans done but at the moment we think he may have suffered a seizure.”

“A seizure? But why is it happening?”

“It's only a possibility that it’s a seizure. We’ll do our best to find out what’s going on. We’ll bring Elijah back in about an hour or so.” He says before he walks away.

You just stood there, trying to process what you’ve just been told. This was just another symptom in a long list of things that had been happening to your son.

The men looked at each other unsure of what they should do. It was heartbreaking on so many levels. First, seeing a child so sick and with no answers was enough to soften the heart of most. Second, you yourself were fairly young and having to go through something like this wasn’t easy. Add to it that you were working for a very dangerous man and it added to your stress. Third, you were all alone from what they had learned. Well not anymore, I’m that moment Steve had decided that he was going to be there for you no matter what. He didn’t know that Sam and Bucky had spoken about the matter as well and they were willing to provide you support in whatever capacity you needed it. Whether it be emotional, physical or financial. Right now it was emotional and Bucky was the first to move and bring you into a hug and let you cry into his chest.

3 days.

That’s how long you had been in the hospital. 3 days and still no closer to any answers. Elijah was stable enough to be discharged and around noon Sam was waiting in front of the hospital in an SUV to take you home. He had already packed up everything for you the night before and taken it down to the house, all you had to do was walk down with Elijah and the nurse that was pushing the wheelchair he was in.

��There he is.” Sam smiled as you walked out the main glass doors. “Ready to leave this place little man?”

“Yeah, I just want to go home.”

Sam looks at you confused. The plan was to stop at your place to grab some things and then stay at Steve’s place for a while.

“Baby, we’re only only going to stop by the apartment so that I can get a few things. We’re staying at Steve’s place for a few days so that I can work.” You remind him.

“Oh ok.”

Sam gives you a sympathetic smile and helps get Elijah in the car before opening the door for you to get in. The drive is quick and before you know it you’re in your apartment grabbing a duffel bag and placing some clothes in there for yourself and Eli.

“Y/N?” You hear from the front door.

“In Eli’s room.”

“There you are child. Who is that man that has Elijah? He didn’t let me get close enough to say hello.”

“That’s Sam, he’s a friend from work.”

“My dear, where are you going? Did something happen to Eli?” She watches as you move around the room.

“Nothing new. My boss said I could stay at the house for a few days and keep Eli with me so I’m just packing a few things.”

“What, couldn't he give you the time off?”

“Yes, he was more than willing to give me the days off but I didn’t want to. So we compromised. I’ll see you in a few days ok. Could you lock the door on your way out? And call me if you need anything.” You say over your shoulder as you walk out and head back to the SUV.

****

Eli fell asleep on the ride to Steve’s place. So when you got there you grabbed him while Sam and Bucky grabbed your things. At the sound of Dom’s voice Steve steps out of his office and heads to the living room to find you with Elijah in your arms. God, you looked exhausted.

“Let me take him.” Steve says in a quiet voice as he grabs Elijah from you.

He nods his head in the direction of the stairs and you follow him up. You had agreed to stay on the second floor but he just walked past the hallways and up another flight of stairs, his floor.

“Steve. I thought we agreed that we would stay on the second floor.” You whisper.

“I changed my mind. I want you close in case you need me.”

He gets to the top of the stairs and heads to the left hallway. It’s still on his floor but there’s some distance. Steve nods towards one of the doors and you open it so that he can walk in. The room is huge as most of the other rooms are. This one has been prepared especially for you though. Elijah’s new gaming systems have been hooked up to the tv. There’s a basket with some self care products in it for you. Some new pajamas for both of you and the other things that Sam and Bucky had bought and taken to the hospital. Everything was neatly arranged and all you had to do was rest. This was a dream and it was why you were against it.

Going back to your small one bedroom apartment is going to be difficult. Especially for Eli since you know everyone will want to come by and spend some time with him. Bucky had even started a schedule so that everyone had time to hang out and not overwhelm him. The only type of support you’ve had since he was born was Mrs. Fields and you weren’t sure if it was that you were tired or your honest gratitude or a mixture of both but you wanted to cry. Actually you did cry, silent tears as you watched Steve lay Eli down and tuck him in. You had never seen him be so gentle and you asked yourself why couldn’t he be Eli’s dad. He would be a great father, you just know it.

“C’mere.” Steve startled you out of your daydream as he hugged you. You leaned into it, desperate for any kind of comforting touch. “It’s ok, just let it all out.” He rested his hand on your back and moved it up and down soothingly.

“I’m such a mess, I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. Why don’t you take a bath and then a nap. It might help you relax. I’ll have Dom send dinner for you both.”

“Oh it’s ok, I can go down and get it.” You say quickly but Steve just shuts the idea down.

“Nonsense. He already volunteered to do it.”

“Ok.”

Steve smiles and turns you toward the bathroom. “Go relax, you deserve it.”

“Thank you, for everything.” You say over your shoulder.

“It’s the least I can do.”

****

Later that night, before Steve goes into his room he can’t help but check in on you. He knocks softly but with no answer he decides to just open the door. The sight causes his chest to tighten. With the light of the hallway he can just make out your form on the bed fast asleep. Elijah clings to you like a koala with his head on your chest and your arms wrapped around him tight. As if he would disappear if you let him go.

Steve has decided then and there that he will do everything in his power to give you the answers that you so desperately need. The best medical team and treatment to make Elijah better and if you let him he’d give you so much more. But he knows you’re stubborn. He also knows that the way to get you to agree to anything is to include Elijah in it. Steve would be lying if he said that little boy hasn’t already stolen a piece of what he thought was his cold dead heart. But like mother like son and you’d both weaseled your way in there even when he promised himself he wouldn’t let something like that happen again.

Ch 5