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writingtoforgetreality · 3 years ago

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Faking To Pretend (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Request: cathy cathy cathy here i am with another request *sigh* i cant help myself your writing is just too good

i was wondering if i might request a steve rogers x reader fic where maybe reader and steve are paired up for a mission and have to pretend to be married (undercover) and some thing happen to kind of force them to admit their feelings for each other (maybe one of them gets injured? or kidnapped idk you do what you want to 😂) anyways LOVE YOU SO MUCH ❤️❤️ (by @msmarvelsmain), [Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: Fake engagements, wedding plans & an undercover mission that jeopardized your well-being in the blink of an eye. Throughout it all, you somehow had to hide the fact that your feelings for Steve were just friendly, nothing more.

Words: 8,610

Warnings: language, angst, fluff, humor, argument, brief mentions of drugs, undercover mission (engagement & wedding plans), female pronouns used, that's pretty much it

[Mimi…this happens when our ideas get mixed up. LOVE YOU TOO!]

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

The familiar sound of a notification emanated from your phone. You deposited the book you had been immersed in onto the mattress & replaced it with the device. It confused you for a second when you noticed Tony being the one to message you. After all, you were literally in the same building.

Stark: meeting in 5.

(Y/N): you do know that you could tell me in person, right? just knock or something.

Stark: you’re too far away.

(Y/N): two doors, stark. TWO!

Stark: meeting in 4.

(Y/N): i hate you.

A loud sigh escaped through your lips. Typical Tony. Two could play that game. You planned on arriving right in time, not earlier. Maybe a few seconds too late. Anything to mess with him. At least he could get a taste of his own medicine that way.

“You’re a minute late.” Tony commented when he watched you walk inside the room. Your arms crossed over your chest as you leaned your shoulder against the door frame.

“You’re lucky I came in the first place.” you remarked. “Besides, I’m the first one here. Mission alone?” you questioned, raising your eyebrows while expectantly waiting for his answer. It was not usual for you to go alone. Except if the mission concerned grabbing pizza from the place down the block. You hoped for him that he did not pull that card, though.

“No but I wanted to discuss it with you before the others- oh, never mind.” Tony stopped talking when three more figures entered the room, brushing past your frame without paying too much attention to you. Sam. Bucky. Steve. What a damn combination. That was your team? Well, good luck. Everyone got seated on the chairs circling the big table but you stood your ground in the doorway. Steve patted the free chair next to his side, eyes flickering up to yours. A silent invitation you politely declined by shaking your head but you made sure that he could detect your small smile. Tony did not seem to mind & went straight ahead into explaining the mission you four had to perform. Most of the time, you zoned off though you really did try your hardest to stay focused. But when you glanced between the men in the room, you already knew the chaos that would come with them.

Basically, the team came across a signal emitting from the back of a small shop. From what you knew so far, it was some sort of a database that saved a whole lot of criminals. Some of them who you had fought in the past & some of them who you had never heard of but they sounded incredibly dangerous nevertheless.

“Question.” one of your hands raised & you waited for them to look at you.

“Go for it.” Tony pointed over to you, letting out a low breath because you were behaving as if you were in class & needed permission before speaking up.

“Why do Steve & I have to be the ones engaged?” normally, you would not care about undercover missions. But when said mission had you teamed up & fake-engaged to Steve? Well, you had a hard time separating work from personal feelings. Not that anything was going on between you guys but you would not lie if you said that you wanted to change it.

“What, do you want Sam & Bucky to be the couple in question?” Stark, in return, asked another question & you rolled your eyes.

“No, of course not.” that earned you disagreements from both, Sam & Bucky. Steve simply sat by, chuckling quietly while observing your conversation quietly.

“And Steve & you are close. It’ll be easier for you guys to pretend.” Tony casually stated & you had to fight the urge to avert your gaze. If you did, they sure as hell would realize something being wrong with you. And you were not about to be embarrassed in front of them. Maybe you already were but at least they did not know about it. After all, you were a fucking great actor.

“Uh-huh.” so you played it cool. As cool as the situation allowed you to be. “But why do we need Laurel & Hardy with us then?”

“Because I said so.” Tony used your most hated phrase & he damn well knew it. After a short pause, he turned a bit more serious again. “They’ll be Steve’s best men.”

“Wait.” your hand raised & you closed your eyes for a second. “Steve has two best men & I’m not allowed a maid of honor?” now everyone inside the meeting room was chuckling. Everyone but you.

“Pretty much, yeah.” Stark shrugged, brushing it off as nothing though he was aware that you were annoyed by his plan already.

“How is that fair?” you could not stop asking questions, somehow hoping that if you continued, you could get out of this successfully. Deep down, it was clear that the mission had been planned & you could not do anything to change it. Not even a single thing.

“It isn’t.” Tony admitted with a brief nod of his head. “But you’ll need Sam & Bucky on this one. So stop bitching around.”

“These are gonna be some long ass days…” you mumbled, putting your face in your hands in frustration.

“Enjoy!” & with that, Tony dismissed you, leaving you behind dumbfounded.

Sam & Bucky exited the room soon after. Steve & you were the only ones left.

“(Y/N)?” Steve’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. Immediately, the frown was replaced by a genuine grin. You found yourself in this state whenever he looked at you like that. Whenever he talked to you, actually. “Everything okay?” his eyes showed concern. They usually did when he noticed you zoning off.

“Huh?” you asked before the words had processed. “Oh, yeah. Of course.”

“I’m sorry about.” his hands gestured wildly, searching for the most suitable words. “The mission being uncomfortable for you.”

“No, it’s not uncomfortable.” you tried to explain yourself. “Just, sometimes I feel like Stark just wants to mess with me.”

“Well, if it helps cheering you up…I’ll behave.” he winked at you playfully & you hated how your body reacted to such simple movements.

“I’m sure you will.” you snickered. “My true worries are your best men.” a sly smirk spread onto your face & Steve could not hold back a chuckle.

“Yeah, I can’t control them.” he agreed with you. “I’ll see you around.” he walked past you, turning around one last time. You simply nodded at him, not trusting your own voice. While you handled the situation as best as you could, you wanted to avoid an awkward goodbye. Besides, you would set out first thing in the morning. You needed some alone time before shit started going down. Not that you expected this mission to fail. The exact opposite, actually. The four of you worked incredibly well together. Compensating other’s mistakes & improvising fast if needed. Mostly, though, you ended up straying from the actual plan & that was what had you worried. Because if you did not stick to it, things could turn real uncomfortable real quick.

As if the mission itself was not demanding enough, the car ride to even arrive at your destination was ten times worse. Steve was behind the wheel & you were lucky that you occupied the passenger’s seat & did not have to sit in the back with either Sam or Bucky. They were children, really. Right now, it felt like Steve & you were the parents of two incredibly challenging kids who could not shut their mouths. Not even for a second. Steve succeeded with ignoring them & he was concentrating on the road so that gave him another thing to do. You, on the other hand, were stuck without any distractions except for the bickering that was currently going on in the backseat. But you knew better than to interrupt them because if you did, it would only turn worse. So you took a few deep breaths & settled further into your seat, closing your eyes to maybe rest a bit before your arrival. What you did not notice was Steve glancing over to your figure, a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he recognized you attempting to sleep during the stress inside the car.

At least the hotel Tony checked you in was worth it. Fake-engagements had their perks. Especially if a luxurious suite was a part of it. Sam & Bucky were somewhere in another room but Steve & you, the two of you pretty much occupied an entire floor. That was how huge your room was. You did not even have to carry your own suitcases. There was an employee who helped you with that. What a nice way of living that was. If only you were not pretending. But why were you even thinking that way? You had a mission to perform & more importantly, you could not fail. And you would not if you solely focused on your task. It could not be that hard, right? You had done something similar multiple times before. It should be an easy one for you. But it was not. And the main reason was Steve. It was wrong of you to put the blame on him but how could you not if you literally had to pretend to be his fiancée? It felt like a secret wish you did not dare to voice. And yet he was here right in front of you, in the same room. A place you were supposed to share for the next few days. And you somehow had to play it cool. There was only one outcome. Burying your feelings deep down in order to not jeopardize the mission or your team. No matter how much your heart protested.

“(Y/N)?” you heard Steve’s voice as you were stepping out of the shower. Only a towel was covering your still wet body but you feared that, if you did not open the door right away, you were in danger somehow. That was your mind’s conclusion. Which really did not make any sense if you gave it a second thought. You opened the door a crack, risking a glance outside & eased when you only saw Steve on the other end. It was a natural reaction for you to push the door open wider. But you kind of forgot that you were not wearing any clothes except for that poor excuse of a hotel towel which was way too small for your liking. Steve’s eyes widened & he could not stop from letting them flicker up & down your body. You squirmed under his stare, arms coming to cross over your chest in order to keep the fabric in place. A few moments of awkward silence ticked by & you wanted it to end. So you coughed & gained his attention once more. His eyes were locking with yours & while you usually lost yourself in them, you were way more comfortable than having him eyeing your every part in great detail.

“You needed anything?” you stuttered out, hoping your voice did not sound all too weak but even to yourself, you were aware that you were failing.

“Um, yeah…” his cheeks turned rosy. One of his hands came up to scratch the back of his neck. “But I probably should’ve waited a couple minutes longer.” he should have but it was too late now anyway.

“If it’s nothing too important then I’ll go get dressed real quick, alright? I’ll take like two minutes.” you attempted an honest smile but it was underlined with a hint of embarrassment that was definitely detectable. Steve simply nodded, stepping back a bit so you could close the door once more. Your back rested against the wooden surface & you quietly sighed out with closed eyes. That was not what you expected. Fingers crossed nothing between you two would turn awkward from now on. But then again, he was your best friend & it was not like you were completely naked. Just barely dressed but covered enough so he did not see anything. You would be just fine.

With a decent outfit & regained confidence, you exited the bathroom & found Steve sitting at the edge of the bed, looking down at his hands where he shifted a small package between his fingers. His head snapped up when he heard your footsteps. You two exchanged a smile & it was then when you knew that your shamefaced encounter would not change the bond you shared. It was as if everything was the same old. And it was probably for the better.

“Was that why you needed something from me?” you gestured to the little box & Steve was brought back to reality. Right, there was a reason why he wanted to talk to you in the first place.

“Tony gave it to me right before we left.” he stood up & approached you with long steps. “Said it’d be more believable if you wore one.” Steve stretched out his hand so you could take the black package from him. With curious eyes & delicate fingers, you took it from him. Your eyebrows raised as your eyes met his but he only shrugged at you without giving you an actual explanation. Carefully, you uncapped the box & were shocked when you noticed the small, sparkling ring inside. The colors of the rainbow reflected in the diamond adorning the silver jewelry. It looked way too expensive for it to be a fake one.

“Tony wants me to wear an engagement ring?” you asked even though it was more than obvious. Maybe you just needed reassurance.

“Makes it more believable.” Steve repeated.

“It probably cost more than what I’ll earn in a lifetime.” you chuckled & closed the lid again.

“So you’re not gonna wear it?” he questioned cautiously. For a flicker, he turned insecure because maybe the reason why you refused to wear it was because you did not want people to believe he was your fiancé.

“Of course I’m gonna wear it! It’s stunning. Just…” you paused briefly & bit your bottom lip to contemplate your next words. “It’s expensive. I can’t risk losing it. I’ll put it on whenever we’re outta this room, though. I won’t be the one blowing our cover.” you assured & laughed because you were indirectly blaming Sam or Bucky to mess up. Steve silently agreed with you but did not say anything else as you situated the ring on the nightstand right next to the large bed. It was late, the moon already doing its job with providing a pleasant light that shone through the blinds & illuminated the gloomy suite. For tomorrow’s mission, you needed to be well-rested to fully function.

Steve insisted that you should occupy the bed on your own. He would be perfectly fine on the couch. The cushions of it were incredibly soft, Tony had paid a fortune after all, you still felt poorly for sleeping in the bed alone. Tomorrow would most likely bring him back pain. He was not the youngest soul, after all. Not that you would ever tell him. It was not meant as offending, though. If you were the one on the couch, your back would kill you as well. But you were too much of a coward to suggest that there was enough space for two people. That & you were scared that he did not even want to share in the first place. That could be an intelligible possibility. Your overthinking consumed quite a bit of time because when you heard Steve’s soft & even breaths, you knew that you were too late already. Maybe tomorrow? Maybe you could gain enough courage to ask him tomorrow. Why were you even so eager to have him beside you? What kind of question was that? You were very well aware why. The conversation you held with yourself in your mind came to an abrupt stop as exhaustion overcame & lulled you into a dreamless night.

Constant knocking stirred you awake. You groaned into your pillow because you were still tired but someone decided to shorten your rest. Assuming Steve was already up, you peeked over the blankets covering your body. You were right, he was opening the door. Appearing like he had not just got out of bed. Or off of the couch, in his case. Steve tried to be as quiet as possible, thinking that you were still passed out on the bed.

“G’morning.” you mumbled out & wiped your eyes with the back of your hands. Steve smiled at you. Right now, you looked cute. Pissed off because it was too early but that did not matter when you were all wrapped up in the blankets.

“Coffee?” he suggested & you immediately got into a sitting position at the mention of it. He had his answer then.

“Wait. What is this?” you gestured to the serving trolley Steve was pushing over to the bed. It was obvious what it was but you were bewildered because you did not expect him to order breakfast.

“Tony took our undercover mission very serious.” he shrugged, leaving the food next to you & wanting to grab a few things to eat by the table.

“No.” you shook your head & halted his movements. “I mean, come on. When was the last time you had breakfast in bed?” you patted the spot next to you. Steve paused for a second but after a short while of contemplation, he agreed & got seated on the mattress. Breakfast in bed. That itself would have been amazing but with Steve? It was almost as if a dream of yours got fulfilled. You needed to stop thinking that way. Undercover missions meant faking, pretending. Why were you struggling so much this time?

“I look like a bitch.” you commented once you got into your undercover outfit. Sam & Bucky were already in your suite & they complained about what a poor excuse their room was compared to yours.

“So what’s different?” Sam joked & earned a slap from you.

“First of all, if we don’t wear what Tony prepared for us, people will notice. And (Y/N)? You don’t look like a bitch, you’re good.” Steve commented & even though his words were not necessarily cute, they still did things to you.

“Woah, Steve. Nice ring you picked out there, pal.” Bucky spotted the diamond on your finger & could not help himself but tease you two about it.

“Could we all just focus on the mission?” funny thing that you were the one saying that. Considering that you probably struggled the most out of the four of you.

“Okay, got it. (Y/N) doesn’t look like a bitch but she acts like one.” Sam smirked & started sprinting through the suite when you took off to catch him. Steve & Bucky shook their heads & chuckled at your childish behavior. None of this was new, though. Things usually went that way when you were sent on a mission together.

“The signal comes from the back of this shop.” Steve whispered, all of you trying to stay undetected for the time being so you could discuss the plan further.

“It’s a pastry shop?” you pointed out & suddenly, three men were rolling their eyes at you. “What?”

“You expected something that sold knives?” Sam teased.

“Maybe, I don’t know.” you whisper-yelled.

“Sam, Bucky. You two enter the back while (Y/N) & I distract the guy.” Steve described your plan once more & you all nodded, each understanding their task. While you did not exactly know what you would do to grab the clerk’s attention, you were certain that you could think of something. Improvising was something you were skilled at, you simply hoped that Steve would not stand in the way.

“Welcome! What can I help y’all with?” the almost sweet voice of the man behind the counter was not what you would expect when you looked him up & down. At the same time, he really appeared out of place in a shop like that.

“Yes!” your enthusiasm, well fake-enthusiasm, was more than obvious & you wrapped your arms around Steve’s torso to get into character. “My fiancé & I are looking for some pies for our upcoming wedding.” Steve let you do the talking, his only response being a nod, underlined with a genuine smile.

“Ah, young love.” the guy clicked his tongue & shook his head slightly. “We have a variety of our best wedding cakes right here.” he pointed to a selection behind a class cabinet.

“No, no, no.” you contradicted. “We’d love to have pie at our wedding. I saw you have some delicious looking options over there.” you gestured to the other side of the shop.

“Pie at a wedding? Isn’t that a little unconventional?” the seller raised his eyebrows, seemingly suspicious & it looked like Steve noticed that as well.

“I think we’ll do fine with cak-“ but before he had the chance to finish, you nudged him with your elbow & shot him a look. “I’m sure your cake is great but pie reflects us better.” Steve corrected himself quickly once he realized what you were planning to do.

“Alrighty, then please follow me over there.” the place behind the counter was now free so Sam & Bucky had a clear path to enter. “Any preferences?”

“Anything, really.” you encouraged the man who opened the showcase. He was so busy with his task, Sam & Bucky had it easy to break in. The corners of your eyes spotted their figures. Now they just needed more time to successfully get the information you all needed.

“Can I ask y’all something?” the clerk spoke up after handing you yet another sample of pie. Truthfully, it was a dream come true. Spending time with Steve while eating pie after pie? If only you did not have to pretend. Did you pretend? Or did you fake to pretend? Your brain did not make sense anymore.

“Go for it.” Steve encouraged.

“You’re the first couple to ask for pie samples. What’s up with that?” the man asked curiously, no longer looking at you like you were suspicious but genuinely interested.

“Well.” Steve chuckled & you could not help but let your gaze flicker up to his face. “We are a very unusual couple. Pie at a wedding is unusual. It’s perfect.” while he spoke those last words, his eyes locked with yours & you could have sworn that time halted right then & there. But you had to snap out of it. For the sake of this mission. A look over the shop owner’s shoulder confirmed that you did not have to pretend too much longer. Sam & Bucky were already on their way out again, turning their heads in your direction to silently confirm that they were done. Successful? That you could not tell just yet.

A few minutes & another pie later, you looked at your watch on your wrist & gasped exaggeratingly.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Steve asked & you almost gasped again, though this time, it would have been for an entirely different reason.

“Um, it’s late, we need to head to the thing.” you were doing so well & now, at the end, you managed to slip.

“The thing?” Steve inquired & by the look on your face he could tell that you were overwhelmed & could not think of a proper excuse. “Oh, the fitting.” he quickly added, hoping nobody would ask which kind of fitting. Seemed like you two were lucky today.

“In that case…I’ll let y’all go. Do you want me to put the rest of the samples in a box for you to take home? That way you have more time to figure out which one to choose.” he reasoned & Steve & you nodded gratefully. Behind the counter, he worked quickly & handed you a paper bag in no time.

“Thanks, man. We’ll get back to you.” Steve waved, putting an arm over your shoulder as you exited the shop. The moment you were out, you could finally breathe again. Missions made you extremely nervous. Undercover missions such as this one, actually. During the others you were perfectly fine.

“Thanks for helping me out back in there.” you chuckled once you were out of sight.

“Pie? Really? Wouldn’t have surprised me if he just saw through us right away.” Steve said with a smile on his face. Good, so he was not mad at you.

“In my defense…The pies were at the other end of the shop so I helped Sam & Bucky.” you finished your sentence but it sounded as if you wanted to add something.

“And you love pie?” Steve did not even have to ask, he knew you well enough.

“And I love pie.” you repeated & laughed. Steve still had not let go of you, hugging you to the side of his body. You did not seem to mind so he kept continuing to hold you close.

Steve placed the paper bag on the small table right in the entrance area. Immediately, you went to the bathroom to rid yourself of that stupid outfit you had to wear & threw on something more comfortable. Once you exited, Sam was already in your suite. The four of you decided to have the meeting in your room because it was bigger & the others kind of wanted to move in with you.

“What’s in there?” Sam asked, pointing to the brown paper bag.

“Pie.” you simply answered without much thought. Sam hummed but did not say anything else. Steve & you were in the living room area, waiting for Bucky to show up so you could start discussing more about this mission. Specifically what they found out during their inspection. The creak of the door gained your attention & you looked up only to find Bucky entering. Your gaze then flickered to Sam who was hiding behind the door, pie in one hand, his free hand came to his mouth, telling you to be quiet. It all happened too fast, Bucky was in Sam’s sight & in an instant, there was a pie right in the super soldier’s face. Steve came right in time to watch the scene, his previous intention to greet his best friend completely forgotten now.

“Sam.” Bucky growled, way too quiet for your liking. But you could not focus on his warning right now. You glanced over your shoulder & noticed Steve’s almost sad expression. The only one who could not control his laughter was Sam. He was practically on the floor because he was laughing so hard. The only emotion running through you was anger.

“I. WANTED. TO. EAT. THAT.” you were seething & all three men turned their heads at your tone.

“Sorry?” Sam tried but you were having none of it.

“NO YOU’RE NOT!” you pretty much yelled.

“I’m gonna kill you.” Bucky whispered & Sam took that as his cue to run away, through that labyrinth of your suite. Bucky sprinted after him, leaving Steve to shake his head at their childish behavior.

“(Y/N)?” Steve’s voice was soft & yet it did nothing to calm you down. You really did love pie & you had been excited to eat the rest of it in bed tonight ever since you left that shop.

“WHAT?” you snapped back, only now realizing that it was not Steve’s fault. “I’m sorry.” you added almost inaudible.

“It’s fine.” he raised his eyebrows & opened his arms. You were not sure why but Steve wanted to hug you & you never declined one of his hugs. So you fell into his embrace, both of you silently knowing that this action was not because of a stupid pie. Though you had to admit that you were mad at Sam that you could not eat the rest anymore. This hug held a deeper meaning & for a few seconds, you let yourself enjoy it. Until a loud screech from the other room snapped you back into the present. Steve & you parted unwillingly. You had to, before Sam & Bucky ended up killing each other.

The four of you sat around the coffee table, you occupying the floor while the others each took a seat on the oversized couch. A pout was still very much present on your face. Yes, you were mad at Sam but you had other things, more important things, to deal with right now. Revenge could come later.

“So?” Steve was the one to speak up after nobody else made a move to do so.

“Sam & I managed to break in.” Bucky casually said as if you did not see that to begin with. That was the plan after all.

“But?” your tone was still harsh but you tried your hardest to push that aside.

“We couldn’t hack the system.” Sam finished. “That’s your specialty.”

“Okay, wait.” you closed your eyes briefly. “You wanna tell me that it took you what felt like an eternity to check out the back room only to sit here now & tell us that you couldn’t get the information?” you concluded with a loud sigh.

“In our defense…We know that we’re definitely looking at the right place.” Bucky commented, careful to not anger you any further.

“So what do you suggest?” Steve asked the two men.

“We’ll go there again tonight. All of us. (Y/N) here hacks the system & we’ll see what we can do after that.” Sam established the new plan & you nodded in understanding.

“I still hate you for wasting the pie on Bucky.” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Sam chuckled though you knew he was not planning on keeping his promise.

“Alright, please go back to your room before I do something I might regret later.” you motioned for Sam & Bucky to leave & they did after arranging a time to meet again.

Since you had the brains in this group, it was an easy one for you to deactivate the security cameras without being seen. After that, you went on to the alarm system & turned it off as well. Which meant that you were free to go. It was the dead of the night, nobody was around. You could enter without a single soul watching you. Steve pushed his body weight against the back door. Once, twice. Until it opened.

“You do know that I could’ve picked the lock, right?” your voice made him spin around. It looked like he only now thought of that but he brushed it off, pretending that this was his plan & it worked out the way he wanted to. The room appeared rather normal. Nothing that caught your eye, nothing that was out of place. An office like you had seen multiple times. The computer was turned off so you changed that real quick, waiting for the screens to light up.

“Earlier today, it wasn’t protected by a password.” Sam furrowed his eyebrows.

“Yeah, dumbass. Because the computer was on already. Give me a second.” you opened various drawers to look for a sign as to what the password could possibly be. The others let you do your work, not daring to speak up to interrupt you. “There we go.” you found a small paper in between some notebooks. Not necessarily the safest place to keep secret things but you would not judge. The home screen showed up. Again, nothing special. Simply a picture of flowers. Weird for the guy who worked here but that was none of your concerns.

“And?” Steve broke the silence.

“There are some decrypted files…” you mumbled, sitting down on the office chair. This would take a bit longer, you assumed.

“Can you get access?” another question from Steve. At least the children were quiet for now.

“Of course I can.” you smiled triumphantly. “Give me a few minutes, though.” you were so focused on the screen, you did not see the others nodding. It was tough, you were not going to lie, but it was you who hacked into the system. You never failed with that.

“Huh.” you breathed out. Truthfully, you were overwhelmed with all the information you were receiving with one look only. Steve, Sam & Bucky each took a place behind you, staring at the screen curiously. “Guys? That’s…scary.” you chuckled uncomfortably.

“What is this?” Bucky mumbled quietly but since it was so silent in this room, everyone heard. This was way bigger than you initially thought. Once you made it back to your hotel, you needed to call Tony.

“(Y/N).” Steve shoved you away gently, taking the mouse in his hand to enlarge what caught his attention. You had to gulp at what you saw. What the hell were you doing on there? Steve’s muscles tensed, you could tell by one single look at him. It took a few deep breaths from your side until you started the process of transferring the information on your little flash drive. ”(Y/N).” Steve tried again, this time a bit louder.

“Yeah, I know.” you answered, ignoring your fast beating heart as much as it was possible. “I got everything, let’s head back.” it was clear that you wanted to leave this place behind & you were the first who made it out into the cool night air. Breathing worked easier out here.

“Hey, Tony.” by now, you were back in your hotel room, picking up your phone to call Tony once Steve went into the bathroom.

“(Y/N)! Successful?” he asked, already thinking that you finished this mission & started heading home.

“Not yet. Seems like this is bigger than we thought…” you trailed off at the end, not really wanting to explain what you found out.

“Bigger how? (Y/L/N), come on.” Tony urged & heard you sigh over the phone.

“It was at the back of the shop, that was correct. I hacked into the system & …it looks like it’s some sort of website where people can pay beforehand, assigning criminals for certain acts. It’s huge, Tony. Tons of people have an account & there are so many new assignments every minute…I’ll send you the data in a second, okay? We’ll check out the coordinates we found tomorrow. We think it could lead us to a very important member of this website. And maybe the guy from the shop has something to do with it, though I’m not sure which part he plays in all of that.” you left out a very significant detail & hoped he would not ask more questions.

“There’s something else.” he stated, knowing you better even though he could not read your body language like he usually did.

“That’s all. I promise we’ll finish this missi-“ your phone was taken from you but before you could complain about it, Steve continued the call with Tony.

“Someone instructed to eliminate (Y/N) because, & I quote, “She’s too pretty to be part of the Avengers”. That assignment was where we got the coordinates from. Means the guy from the shop probably manages all of that but he isn’t the one we’re looking for.” silence enveloped you two & you figured that Tony was talking on the other end. “Yeah, sure. That’s the top priority. We’ll work on that & you start looking into the website.” Steve ended the call & threw your phone on the mattress next to where you were sitting.

“What the hell, Steve?” you were furious because he acted differently. And not in a good way. The only response from him was a cold look. He then moved out to the balcony that was attached to your suite. It was unusual for him to be so distanced, especially when it came to you. And you were hesitant to follow him. Considering his body language, he was mad at you. Why? You had no idea. Did you do anything to piss him off? Your gaze fell to your hands in your lap. The diamond on your ring finger sparkled beautifully. You recalled how it felt to be next to Steve, in that small pastry shop where you ate pie after pie to pick the perfect one for your wedding. This was something that could never be. It was all pretending but why did it feel so real to you? Steve probably was not struggling as much as you were & you hated yourself for it.

A hand on his shoulder startled him. Steve eased when he found you standing next to him. The sun would begin rising soon but the both of you were not tired at all. Though the reasons were different. Steve’s mind was still occupied with the information that there was someone out there who paid an awful lot of money to have you eliminated. You, on the other hand, struggled with keeping your feelings buried. Your hands held onto the railing. The movement made Steve look down where the engagement ring was still adorning your hand. You had not taken it off yet. In fact, he only realized that now, you even wore it during your mission of breaking into the shop. Sam & Bucky did not comment on it & to Steve, it was almost…normal. But you did say you would not keep it on you unless you were outside, pretending to be engaged to him.

“What did I do?” your voice interrupted his racing thoughts.

“What?” Steve was confused that you believed you did something wrong.

“Ever since we got outta that shop, you’ve been distant & cold. Was it something I did?” you kept looking straight forward, not wanting to hold eye contact because you feared the worst. That you managed to mess up somehow & Steve was angry at you.

“You didn’t do anything.” his body faced yours & you could practically feel his eyes on you. His intense stare made your breath hitch up.

“You sure about that?” finally, you turned around. Your bodies were almost touching, you underestimated the distance between you two.

“You act as if you don’t care.” his statement had you furrow your eyebrows. He rolled his eyes but continued anyway. “Someone paid a huge amount of money. To have you killed. And here you are, pretending that it doesn’t matter. It’s something you’re really good at, huh? Pretending.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” your voice raised slightly but you still wanted to keep it down, you were outside, everyone could hear your conversation.

“See? You’re doing it again.” Steve called you out. “We found that piece of information by accident.”

“I’m aware.” you arms went to hug yourself. A distraction that barely did its job.

“So your life means nothing to you.” his words were harsh. And if you were honest, they hurt. A lot.

“I never said that.” you hated how your voice wavered. How you could not appear to be the strong woman right now.

“You act like it, though.” with each word he said, your heart broke a little more. If only he knew. “I understand. This whole pretending thing is something you’re good at. This mission showed that much. But this is real, (Y/N). So, for a second, stop pretending & act like you care!”

“STOP!” you yelled out of breath. Instinctively, Steve took a step back, eyes wide by your sudden outburst. “Just stop.” this time, you spoke it much softer. Your gaze flickered to the ground, head hanging low.

“I’m sorr-“ Steve was interrupted.

“I said stop.” you repeated. “Steve, we’re on a mission. We’re supposed to put a stop to this shit. None of this has anything to do with me pretending to be your fiancée or me pretending that I don’t give a damn about my life.”

“Are you sure about that?” he emphasized. One hand went to the diamond on your finger & slipped it off. You made a fist around it, though it was not with a lot of pressure. You did not intend to damage the ring.

“I might be good at pretending but I’m no professional.” you admitted. Steve grew more & more confused. He did not know you were talking about the fact that you were not pretending to be engaged to him. To you, it felt natural, it felt good. Right now, though, you did pretend that none of this faced you. But Steve could not tell the difference.

“Can I be honest with you?” he waited until your eyes met his.

“Go ahead.” you waved your hand for him to continue.

“I was cold towards you because once we found out about that, you didn’t say anything about it. And I can’t believe that you just don’t care about it. About your life. I can’t. You don’t have to pretend when you’re with me, you know that. We’re not engaged right now. No undercover mission. You & me. So please be honest with me.” he took your hands into his & you did not flinch back. The touch grounded you but it was no lie that you were having a hard time to be completely honest with him.

“Why do you care so much?” maybe not the smartest thing to ask. Steve’s reaction was proof enough. He let go of your hands, turned his back towards you & let out a breathless laugh. His hands raised to his hair, messing it up in the slightest. Seconds ticked by but it felt like hours until he spun around once more.

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!” it seemed like that confession made the both of you stop dead in your tracks. It was not the first time Steve said those words but his tone differed from the previous ones. Still, chances were high he addressed your friendship with that. Because you were friends. Simple friends. “Say something.” he grew desperate when you did not reply.

“I-I don’t know what you want me to say. That I love you, too? You know that, Steve.” your words were steady, calculated. It was too soon to get your hopes up.

“How far do I have to go for you to realize that I want you?” he approached you, hesitancy in his steps. “Didn’t it feel natural to you when we acted like a couple? Because, I can’t keep that up anymore, I can’t. Tell me you don’t feel the same & I’ll back off. We can forget this right now, we don’t have to talk about it anymore. But if you-“ his speech was cute but you had to be close to him now that he finally confessed that there was more between you two. You cupped his cheeks & pulled him in to kiss him. Steve was shocked at first but it did not take him too long until his hands rested on your waist, tightening his grip on you. After parting, Steve kept his forehead against yours. Both of you had your eyes closed, breathing the same air. You imagined this exact moment more than once. But never before had it played out like that. Not that you were complaining, your feelings were finally out there.

“You were wrong, you know?” as much as you enjoyed the silence, there was still something you wanted him to know.

“Wrong about what?” he opened his eyes to look at every feature of you. Because it was no longer forbidden, he was allowed to do that now.

“I didn’t pretend while we were in the shop pie tasting.” you admitted, a small smile playing at the corner of your lips. “I faked pretending, if that makes sense…But, after I saw the bounty on my head, I started pretending.” he nodded at you, squeezing your waist once to encourage you to keep talking. “Steve? I’m scared.”

“It’s okay.” Steve’s arms went around your shoulders, pulling you close once again. His chin on your head. If only that could dispose of all of your worries. The only thing he could do was letting you hold onto him.

Steve did not sleep on the couch that night. Not because he did not want to but because you insisted to have him close. It was not the first time you two shared a bed. Sometimes, when missions did not allow you anything else, you ended up next to each other. Tonight felt different, better. Because there was no longer a weight on your heart. Were you two in a relationship already? Maybe you had been for some time but the two of you were too oblivious to notice. There was enough time to label whatever this was as soon as this mission was over. Your focus should solely be on this mission. Tons of lives depended on it. Yours included.

“You’re stubborn. Do you know that?” the next morning came sooner than you would have liked. No time for cuddling in bed, no time for breakfast. Two hours of sleep was all you got. But you had never felt this rested in your entire life. The reason was a certain super soldier. Not that you would ever admit that.

“Would I have chickened out if I didn’t know they were after me? No. I can handle myself.” Steve suggested for you to stay behind because they were looking for you. It could bring on unnecessary danger & he obviously needed you to be safe.

“But we know now.” Steve tried reasoning but it was useless, you already made your decision.

“Right. So it’s time to put a stop to it. Come on, Sam & Bucky are waiting for us.” you were out of the door before Steve found enough time to argue with you.

The drive to the coordinates was tense. Not even the kids in the back were joking around. Possibly because this mission turned into something way more hazardous. The situation between Steve & you was the same. Hence why nobody commented on it. After all, you pretty much confessed before there was an actual confession. Therefore, it was the same old. The only difference was your gut feeling that did not give you a hard time anymore. That was not entirely true. You had a bad gut feeling but for another reason.

“That’s the house?” you gestured to the building after the car came to a stop.

“This is it.” Steve confirmed.

“I don’t know why I expected some sort of villa.” Bucky commented while glancing out of the window.

“Maybe that would be too obvious. I mean, we do know that they receive the money beforehand, right? And I’m sure that the order to eliminate me wasn’t his first one.” you spotted Steve tensing up when you talked about that assignment. Your hand squeezed his shoulder & you hoped that your smile was convincing enough. You were alright & you would be after this mission. With Steve, Sam & Bucky on your side, you had nothing to fear. If push came to shove, they would go out of their ways to keep you safe.

“Steve?” Sam spoke up. “You know we need him alive, right?”

“Of course.” Steve nodded though his mind was contemplating going further than that. Unfortunately, you still had to figure out who was the one to assign this to the criminal. Tony was onto that, checking if there was more to find out about that anonymous account who paid the money. “A few punches won’t kill him.”

It was the break of dawn & the neighborhood was completely empty. The silence inside the car was interrupted by Steve’s sign to make a move. All of you stayed close together, you were not about to make the same mistake people did in horror movies. Besides, you felt safer with them around. A noise made you spin around. It was coming from down the hallway. Steve took the lead, you right behind him. Sam & Bucky trailing behind after you. A gun was clutched in your hand but you were not intending to use it today. Hopefully there was no need to. Steve shot you a look over his shoulder, silently telling you to be prepared. When he pushed the door open with his body weight this time, you did not tease him about it like you did when you broke into the back of the pastry shop the other night. The sight you were met with was…unexpected. There was a man sitting behind his computer. The room smelled like drugs. A mixture of multiple things you could not identify & did not even want to.

“Woah, you’re the Avengers.” he slurred his words. So he was drunk as well. “Hey, I’m supposed to kill you.” he pointed at your figure & instinctively, Steve stepped in front of you. Shielding your body with his.

“You sure that’s our guy?” Sam leaned closer to you & whispered. Your shoulders shrugged & you pointed over to the desk where a name tag was proudly displayed. Seemed like he was not the smartest guy if he used the same name for his account on that website. Your heartrate slowed down because you knew you were not in danger. Not right now. Steve approached the man, coming to a halt mere inches away from him. His hand balled into a fist & after one punch in the guy’s face, he was on the floor, unconscious.

“Huh.” you breathed out. “That was almost too easy.”

“Yeah, if we forget about the website where thousands of people assign offenders every single day.” Bucky was right, of course. You stumbled across something way bigger. Hopefully Tony had good news once you returned.

The police was called. They inspected the room & that guy really was everything but intelligent. He horded a file full of his assignments. He would not see the sunlight again, that much was sure. Steve & you waited outside, leaning on the hood of the car. Sam & Bucky were busy talking to the officers.

“Hey.” you started & nudged Steve with your elbow. “Is it appropriate to thank that asshole?”

“What for? For wanting to kill you?” he answered with furrowed eyebrows.

“No.” you chuckled. “But…if it were not for him, we wouldn’t have confessed.”

“There was a possibility that he was dangerous. Maybe we just caught him at a bad time.” Steve mumbled the last part.

“Let’s not worry about that, alright? I’m fine. See?” you gestured to your body, a big smile adorning your features.

“I know.” he nodded but it was obvious that he was still careful about this entire situation.

“I love you.” that seemed to do the job. His eyes met yours, his expression less tense & softer.

“I know that, too.” he smirked when you playfully slapped his chest.

“Steve, you ruined a very roman-“ his lips were on yours before you could finish your complaint. Steve was aware what he was doing, because he smiled into the kiss which caused you to giggle.

“I love you, too.” his lips still ghosted over yours. You could feel as his words left them. “Romantic enough?”

“I’m sure you can do better.” you pulled away & winked at him, moving away to join Sam & Bucky. Steve’s eyes followed your body & he shook his head at you. Yes, he did love you. A lot. And he was already planning how to make his next move even more romantic.

Published (05/18/2021) by Cathy

✨MY Ko-fi PAGE✨

Tags: @zestyemby, @captainxholmes, @met4no1a, @bibliophilewednesday, @weareironmanbitches, @n3ssm0nique, @2bornot2b, @iaalien, @bibliophilewednesday (thanks for your support <3)

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babygirl-diaz · 3 years ago

Note

Prompt: SamBucky are /not/ together but it's getting there. So something wild happens idk magic or some shit and 1940s Bucky gets plucked from his timelime and thrown into theirs. 40s Bucky doesn't pull any punches, and goes for what he wants and that's Sam.

(Sorry it took me almost a month to write this anon. I didn't know how to go about it until today. I wrote this as crack. I hope you still like it! This is pretty similar to my other fic)

Sam was taking the trash out when it happened. Now, you have to understand, Sam has seen some weird shit in his time. He was erased out of existence, for fuck's sake. But this one still took the cake. So yeah, as he took the trash out. The sky, THE FUCKING SKY, suddenly opened and something shot out of it dropping right into Sam's dumpster. Sam was thrown back from the impact, his trash landing elsewhere.

Sam's ribs hurt like hell as he got up from the ground. "Shit," he groaned.

A pained moan came from the dumpster and as if on reflex, Sam's hand went into his back pocket. "Who's in there?!" He asked, panicked.

He slowly took a step towards the dumpster and stopped in his tracks when he heard another pained sound. "Get out of there," Sam warned the person. "Come on. I'm not playing."

Hands grabbed at the edge of the dumpster and someone slowly hauled themself up and tried to get out of the dumpster but they lost their balance and fell to the ground.

"Shit," Sam hissed, before rushing over to help them. "Hey, man, you o-" Sam's voice died in his throat when he finally saw the face of the person before him. "Bucky?!" It was Bucky alright. But not the Bucky Sam knew. This Bucky was young, clean-shaven... dressed in military uniform... if it weren't for those blue hues, Sam wouldn't even have recognized him. This wasn't the Bucky who was in their shared apartment right now. "What the hell is happening?" Sam asked, more to himself than the guy in front of him, who was staring up at him in somehow both fear and awe.

Sam was definitely dead. This was either heaven or hell and Bucky was here as his younger self... Well, if Bucky was here, then it had to be hell. But it didn't feel any different. It still felt like D.C. cold and smelling of corruption. Or maybe that's what hell was...

"Where am I?" The man-- Bucky?-- asked.

"Hell," Sam replied without thinking.

"What?!" That got young Bucky's attention, and he sat on the ground. "I'm dead?"

"Well, I'm guessing you and I both are... because that's the only explanation I can come up with. Where the hell did you come from?"

"I don't know..." Young Bucky almost looked like he was on the verge of tears. "What is happening? Where is Steve? We were at the exhibition... we were talking... and now I'm..." The man swayed and fainted.

SHIT.

Despite his own broken ribs (yes, Sam had decided this wasn't hell and he wasn't dead), Sam hauled young Bucky up from the ground and threw young Bucky's arm around his own shoulder before wrapping his arm around young Bucky's waist (he should really stop calling him young Bucky). This Bucky was light. He wasn't built like a damn truck like his own Bucky (okay, no he wasn't Sam's Bucky but he was Sam's friend so he was technically Sam's? FOCUS Sam. Bigger problems).

Sam somehow got young Bucky (Okay, he was going to start calling him Sergeant Barnes. He was dressed in his uniform after all) into the elevator. Thankfully, no one saw him with Sergeant Barnes. He practically carried Sergeant Barnes to his apartment and used his keys to open the door.

"Wow, took you long enough. What were you doing? Taking the trash all the way to the landfill?" Bucky was sitting in front of the TV, browsing through Netflix.

"Bucky-- we have a problem. I found something-- or rather someone, downstairs"

"Did you go dumpster diving, Sam? I swear to god, Sam, if this is another one of your attempts to adopt a cat--" Bucky stopped talking and turned around and his eyes widened. "WHAT THE FUCK?!" He flew out of the seat and stumbled back.

"Surprise?" Sam said awkwardly. He helped Sergeant Barnes to the sofa and dropped him on it.

Sam's ribs protested, and he doubled over in pain. "Fuck," he groaned.

"What the fuck is that, Sam?"

Sam looked up at Bucky to find him looking at his younger self, horrified.

"That is you," Sam replied.

"No, it's not."

"Yeah, it is," Sam insisted. "He dropped from the sky."

"He what?" Bucky laughed hysterically

"You're freaking out. Stop freaking out," Sam tried to touch Bucky's shoulder, who stepped away from him.

"OF COURSE I'M FREAKING OUT! I mean, LOOK AT HIM... That's me... That's me from 1942."

"How do you know what exact year he's from?"

"I was dressed like that... like a damn dweeb right before they shipped me out."

A groan got Sam's attention, and he looked over at the sofa to see Sergeant Barnes waking up.

The sergeant's eyes widened when looked from Sam to Bucky. "What the-- WHAT IS HAPPENING?!" He screeched. "WHO ARE YOU?!"

"I am you," Bucky replied. "Look, there is no easy way to say this but It seems you have somehow ended up in the future."

"The future?" Now it was Sergeant Barnes's turn to laugh hysterically. "You're saying I've ended up in the future?! That's the funniest thing I've heard all day, pal. Is this a prank? Is Steve getting back at me?"

Sam went over to Sergeant Barnes and crouched in front of him on the floor. "Listen, Sergeant Barnes-"

"You can call me Bucky." Young Bucky offered him a sweet smile.

"Actually, I can't," Sam replied. "He's Bucky to me--" he said pointing at Bucky "--so I have to call you something else."

The smile fell off Sergeant Barnes's face and Sam felt kinda bad.

"--Bucky is telling the truth. You've somehow ended up in the future. What do you remember last?"

"I remember meeting you, doll," Sergeant Barnes replied.

"Doll?!" Bucky said in surprise.

"Shut up, Bucky," Sam told him before going back to Sergeant Barnes. "Before that. What do you remember before that?"

"I remember we were at the exhibition of future technologies... Steve and I were talking and then--- and then I woke up in that garbage."

"Do you remember this happening to you?" Sam asked Bucky.

"No, of course, I don- wait- I do now. How is that possible?!"

"Looks like you're forming new memories, Buck," Sam suggested.

"I am really confused," Sergeant Barnes said desperately, and grabbed Sam's hands.

"Sorry, I just-- I need something to ground me. I am terrified."

"Oh yeah, of course," Sam replied. "That's okay." He squeezed Sergeant Barnes's hands.

Bucky cleared his throat behind them and Sam turned around to find him frowning. Sam just shrugged and turned back to Sergeant Barnes.

"We'll figure it out," Sam assured the young man. "And we'll get you back home."

"Well, we better because who knows what could happen the longer he's here. He could erase my existence."

Just the thought churned Sam's stomach.

"First, let's get you out of these clothes," Sam suggested, looking at Sergeant Barnes. "You smell like garbage."

"Sorry about that, sweetheart," Sergeant Barnes said with a small smile.

"Come on, I'll show you the shower. You can have some of my clothes, they should fit you."

"Why not mine?" Bucky asked. "He's literally me."

"No!" Sergeant Barnes said a little too loudly. "His clothes are fine. I didn't catch your name, by the way."

"OH! I'm Sam," Sam led him to his bedroom and found him a pair of t-shirt and sweats.

"Thank you, Sam," Sergeant Barnes said appreciatively. "I don't know what's going on here but I am glad you're here to help me through it."

Sam offered him a smile in return. "Well, I'm glad you think that. Now come on, I'll show you the shower."

"The future still has a phonograph?" Sergeant Barnes asked before following Sam out of the bedroom.

Sam nodded, "Yeah it does." He showed Sergeant Barnes to the shower and turned it on for him, adjusting the water to the right temperature. When he turned around, he found the Sergeant standing there fully naked.

"Whoa, okay," Sam immediately averted his eyes. He tried not to trail his eyes to Sergeant Barnes's nether regions. "Let me know if you need anything else. Just press that knob when you're done showering and it should turn off the water." (Okay, talking about pressing knobs right now was probably not the best idea).

Sam quickly ran out of the bathroom and he's pretty sure he heard Sergeant Barnes say, "So cute," on his way out.

"What's up with you?"

Sam jumped when he heard Bucky's voice. It almost felt like he had been caught cheating on Bucky with Bucky. Which was ridiculous because Bucky wasn't his boyfriend and he wasn't doing anything with Sergeant Barnes.

"Nothing," Sam blurted. "We should really figure out how to get him back home."

A dark look fell over Bucky's face, and Sam reached out to rest his hand on the other man's shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"We send him back and he gets taken hostage by Hydra and then eventually turned into The Winter Soldier."

"Bucky, everything needs to happen exactly how it happened or your whole present and future will change."

"Would that really be such a bad thing? I mean, look at all the things I've done. If there is a chance I could erase all of that--"

"And what if you end up erasing yourself?" Sam asked.

"Sam--"

"No! Don't Sam me! We are sending him back to his time and that's that."

“Okay, then,” Bucky threw his hands up. “We’re sending him back.”

“How though? We don’t even know how he got here in the first place.”

“Maybe some sort of sorcery was involved?” Bucky suggested.

“Sorcery?!” A startled voice came from behind them and they turned around to find Sergeant Barnes standing there looking stunned. “Sorcery is real?”

“Unfortunately,” Sam replied. “We even have a sorcerer friend. Speaking of which, we should talk to him.”

“Oh, so he’s no longer a wizard?” Bucky teased

“Oh shut it,” Sam threw back and lightly punched Bucky on the shoulder.

“Are you two…” Sergeant Barnes trailed off.

“Are we what?” Sam asked distractedly.

“Are you together?” Sergeant Barnes replied. “I assume a relationship between two men is not frowned upon in the future or a relationship between an interracial couple? My time is less tolerant.”

“Trust me, our time isn’t very tolerant either, but yes, we’ve come a long way from 1942,” Sam informed him. “And to answer your question, no, Bucky and I are not together.”

Sam noticed a frown on Bucky’s face but he ignored it.

“Are you taken?” Sergeant Barnes asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No, I’m not,” Sam replied.

Sergeant Barnes stepped closer to Sam and smiled at him. “Good, because, if you were, I would be really sad.”

“Why?” Sam gulped at the closeness of the other man. He smelled like tea tree oil, the scent of Bucky’s body wash.

“Because you are gorgeous and I would hate it if you were taken.”

Sam feels his cheeks heat up at that. “Oh wow… Um.. thanks.”

Sergeant Barnes snaked his arm around Sam’s waist and pulled him closer. “Do you mind if I kissed ya, doll?”

Sam felt his arm being grabbed, and he was pulled back and away from Sergeant Barnes.

“Maybe you should focus more on the fact that you’re stuck in the future than on Sam.”

Sam felt Bucky’s arm around his waist. His grip was almost possessive.

“Are you jealous?” Sergeant Barnes asked with a cocky grin on his face. Sam has sometimes seen that grin on Bucky’s face but it’s very rare.

“Jealous? Of you? Kid, you give yourself too much credit.”

“Boys, you do realize you’re the same person, right?” Sam pulled himself away from Bucky.

“I am not him!” Both of them said at the same time.

“Clearly,” Sam rolled his eyes.

#SamBucky #TFATWS #fanfiction #aashnas drabble #crack

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vintage-marina · 3 years ago

Text

A woman out of time (james norrington x f!reader) chapter 2

TW: suicidal thoughts, idk what the word is but the reader is seeing things that isn’t there

You washed your face and looked into the mirror, the circles under your eyes were enormous and it looked like you hadn't slept in days, what indeed was. Every time you closed your eyes you saw the battle of Wakanda or you saw the faces of people that you had murdered. Murdered, you had murdered them. You screwed your eyes shut and clung to the sink for dear life, a sob escaped your lips. I don't deserve this, you thought to yourself, your victims should be alive not you, them. Not you, Vision, Vision deserved it. Or Wanda, Bucky, Sam, Peter, T'Challa everyone besides you. T'Challa, yes he deserves my place, but he isn't here to take it isn't he? You softly hummed a song to yourself, a method to soothe you. After a few minutes of humming, you opened your eyes. Red, your eyes were red, you touched your cheeks and you realised you were crying. You stared into the mirror, you saw yourself but you couldn't reconise her. You stared to face and noticed the scars on it, they were small and were from the bomb that exploded right in front of you and you noticed the burn on your neck. You didn't found them ugly, but you didn't love them either. They were a part of you now and you couldn't do anything about it, just like your arm. You felt neutral about them. You picked up your toothbrush and brushed your teeth, the feeling of guilt slowly washing away. You knew that that feeling would never go away, but just like your therapist said you must learn to live with it, if you wanted to live your life in a somewhat peacful state.

Ever since half of the population died you didn't knew what to do, you felt like you didn't belong in the group that they called themselves the Avengers but you also didn't fit in as a civilian, so in the chaos that Thanos left you packed your bags and moved away, after you were fully healed ofcourse. You left everyone a handwritten letter and then you moved into a little old house on the shore.

You heard the telephone ringing, you walked toward the livingroom and picked up the phone. Maybe it was Steve, Natasha or Tony you didn't knew. You wiped your tears away, stupid ofcourse because the caller couldn't see them. ''Hello, with Y/N'' you said into the phone, it was Natasha. ''Hey Nat! How are you? No, I'm not crying why did you think that?'' ''You know that you don't have to lie to me right? But if you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to'' ''Yeah, I've been crying but I'm fine now. '' The last part was half a lie, you were fine but a few minutes earlier you weren't. ''Im glad to hear that you are doing alright, sometimes it is just so hard you know?'' You hummed in agreement, not knowing if she talked about her past or about the guilt she felt with the whole Thanos hassle. '' But, Y/N/N, I, no we have something important to talk about. Scott, you remember Scott right?'' ''Yeah, I remember him, he was snapped right?'' ''We thought that too but a few hours ago, he showed up on our doorstep of the compound.'' ''So he wasn't snapped away, you mean'' now it was her turn to hum in agreement. ''Y/N, what I want to tell you is that we can bring them back and we want you to be there,'' you smiled a little and you whispered: ''Ofcourse, I will be there'' ''We will pick you up in an hour, see you then'' ''See you Nat'' Natasha hanged up and you pressed the telephone to your chest and let yourself fall on your little couch and let out a laugh. A few minutes ago you felt on a point of breaking down and now hope streamend into your veins.

An hour flew by and you saw in the distance three figures walking, one blond headed, one red headed and one had dark brown hair. You openend your door and welcomed them inside, ''Hi guys'' you said to them and gestured that they can sit down, you went back to your little kitchen and brought back some drinks and cookies. You sat on a chair and turned your eyes to Scott, ''so you just showed up after 5 years of radio silence?'' ''Yep'' ''how?'' ''I got stuck in what they call the Quantum Realm'' ''What the hell is that?'' you mumbeled, ''Alright so, that realm is a microscopic universe on its own and if you want to be there you have to be really tiny. Time works different there and basically I got stuck there'' ''What do you mean time works different there?'' you asked to him. ''Well, I was missing for 5 years right'' you hummed in agreement, ''but for me it was 5 hours. So I thought what if we can navigate that universe and can enter it at a certain point in time but then exit the realm at another point of time.'' Your eyes widend and your brain couldn't proces it really, ''I don't understand what you mean and that doesn 't make ant sense Scott'' he sighed and then said: ''Timetravel'' ''Like back into the future type of thing?'' you said to him, ''Wait how do you know about back into the future Y/N?'' said Natasha surprised, you turned to Natasha ''I saw it on the television ofcourse!'' Steve furrowed his brows and said: ''How have I never heard of that movie?'' you shrugged your shoulders and focused your attention back to Scott. ''So how do you guys want to timetravel, I still don't understand how you guys want to do this but I'm in.''

At the compound

After you guys could convince Bruce to help, things had happend quickly. First of all he was green, that was pretty weird for you and for the rest of your team. He explained to your group that he emerged himself and the Hulk together, you were pretty grossed out about this and was scared to asked how he did that. Secondly, you couldn't convince Tony to help out wich was disappointing but not surprising, after all you two held contact and you knew that he had a family. You understood that he was scared to loose his life or his family so you didn't try to persuade him into helping your group instead you were chatting with Pepper. Thirdly, without Tony's help was Bruce all alone on how to make this time travel thing. You hoped that he knew how to make this thing, but you weren't so sure about it. Scott was the test person and when he was gone you thought it finally worked but instead he was a teenager, then he was a baby, then he was a grandpa and then he was finally back to normal. There was panic and not just a little! Natasha was relieved when she saw that Scott went back to normal and Bruce spread his arms out and said proud: ''Timetravel!"

''But it didn't work really work'' you noticed, ''yes but also no'' Steve shaked his head and then Bruce said: ''What? I see this as an absolutle win''

Night time

A radio was playing a soft melody. The woman who you stared at didn't move a muscle, she looked like a dear in headlights. Time moved slow, to slow for her and sweat was forming on her forehead. You didn't even knew her name or why you were here, you only knew you had one job. The room reeked of blood and it was coated on the floor, you raised your arm and pulled the trigger before she could even scream. You could hear her body fall, finally you woke up and you could hear your heart racing. You clenched your jaw and stepped out of your bed, your feet touching the soft floor, you hummed softly trying to calm yourself. But you couldn't hear yourself, all you heard was the soft tune of the radio. Shuffling in the dark is never easy, your fingers touched a wall and your eyes went wide. Blood, why was there blood on the wall. You squeezed your eyes and then you saw the pattern on the wall. It was dark green with little leaves and flowers on it, your hand flew towards your mouth when you realised you were not in your bedroom anymore. You turned your head and then everything went back to normal. You didn't saw the blood splatters and the wallpaper anymore but you were in your bedroom?

The next day

A lot happend during the day, Tony showed up out of nowhere. Thor was back, who looked like shit. Rhodey suggested to go back in time when Thanos was a baby and to strangle him, which you found very amusing and Clint showed up with tattoos and a sad background that he killed people just because his family passed away. Everyone grieves differently I guess, some people like me you thought are gonna live in solitude and other people are gonna kill people for the fun of it. So now you were lying on the floor next to Bruce, Natasha and Tony trying to figure out where the stones are. Tony, Bruce and you were arguing about which place and time is the most convienent but Natasha broke your quabble. ''Guys, if you pick the right year there are three stones in new York'' ''Shut the fuck up'' ''You're a genius you know that right'' ''Whoah'' were the three things that were said in unison to her.

After five years you finally wore your suit again. The med pack on your bag felt familiar and you almost forgot how thick the leather was, the only bad side was that you now had to wear a mask. On your wrist was a watch and after twenty explanations from Tony you understood how to work with that thing, above your suit you wore another suit were you would timetravel in. You are going to travel with Tony, Scott and Steve to New York 2012 because Tony could help you with your suit when you didn 't knew how to work with it. ''Can someone please explain to me why I would have to wear a mask again?'' Actually you did know why, because the four of you didn't want to risk that 2012 Steve would regconise you. The Avengers and you were walking in unison and you guys formed a circle. Natasha and Steve looked at eachother and she said to him smiling: ''See you in a minute'' a machine whirred above you and you clicked on a button to summone your helmet and then you were shrinking.

It was a really weird experience to say atleast, your tummy was doing cartwheels and you felt your fingers (but not from your vibranium arm) tingling. You saw blue everywhere and it looked like honeycombs. You marveled at this, but then someone's elbow went into your ribs and you flew out of the orbit. Instead of going right with the others you went straight ahead. Shit, shit shit! But everything went so fast you didn't even had more time to think about it. A flash happend and you had your eyes shut. Your vibranium arm was stuck into something but not for long, whatever your arm was in was ripping and flew down with you. You could hear yells and cursing and then you fell on the ground. Well, not ground but on wood? You heard it crack underneath you and you thought you had fallen through the floor. Something is strange here, you didn't hear any cars, you didn't hear airplanes and you certainly didn't smell the fumes. You sniffed again, and you regconised it, it was salty and now your ears heard the soft waves of the ocean. You were on the ocean, you cracked one eye open and right in your face was a small man with dirt on his cheeks and wearing a mullet. ''Witch! A witch is on our ship!'' Fuck.

#james norrington #james norrington x reader #james norrington imagine #norrington #commodore norrington #potc #elizabeth swann #will turner #jack sparrow #henry turner #commodore norrington x reader #marvel #fanfic #marvelcrossover #avengersinfinitywar #avengers endgame #avengers

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faorism · 3 years ago

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needing the au to drop wherein i can commit to writing a historical au,, because since i first watched the db cooper job my mind went straight to OT3! OT3! OT3! (unlike with the van gogh job, since i aint playing with that fucking lieutenant)

one day maybe one dayyyyy i will sit down and i will write the ot3 into that episode's story. so, it'll be the backgrounds for the characters in the flashback (so, stephanie ritter, steve reynolds, and reggie wilkins), but with the necessary personality adjustments (parker, eliot, and hardison respectively). basically, vintage ot3 with some hot as hell aesthetics and secrets and avoiding as much as possible producing copraganda.

so. my thoughts. what i see happening. and this got super long so im throwing this under a cut. and for ease i will call them by their modern day canon names except when making a point.

first, general thoughts about the characters.

and so: steve to eliot. nothing much here on the surface. eliot still volunteers, too much an indoctrinated white man to have been forcibly drafted. so its still one man gone to war. one man come back. eliot would had been noticed early in training for his ability to pick shit up, and they teased at maybe sending him to a special unit. maybe they do, or maybe they don't because they just need to funnel fuckers to the jungle. the vietnam invasion was a terrorist imperialist venture and there's no romanticizing from me about anything done being at all valorous or special or brother-in-arms'y. and eliot commits war crimes under the american stars and stripes instead of just to keep moreau's champaign running. but also maybe moreau is eliot's superior. he certainly would have been rewarded for this ruthlessness. (eliot of course strove to impress moreau because there aint an eliot spencer who wasn't that man's dog at some point, i!!!! dont make the rules). eliot's friend died and eliot's gone off to carry out his wishes and moreau lets him because he Knows eliot is gonna come back. whether its to come back to the same squad, or follow him into deeper spy shit for the military, or to fuck off and go private. then eliot meets parker.

now. stephanie to parker. beth plays normal so well im mad at her, but there's something edgy and strategic about stephanie that i think parker can grab onto. i feel that maybe she was kind of a thief still, but there's more realism to this world so archie wasnt a super secret spy with lasers to practice with, but just a guy with sticky fingers whos a little bored and wants a protege. parker is good really good at what she does, and not having to deal with lasers makes me easy. but she's into scams that are less grifts and more Catch Me If You Can slight of hands. she's always looking for easy money (she was into lifting cars at one point! literally she follows where the crime is). she's doing something in an airport and someone tries to recruit her as a flight attendant because she's got the Look. and yall, flight attendants? that shit was like being a model and an astronaut and a time traveler back then. and according to a teacher i had, who once worked as in the f.a. union, those ladies back in the day were rad and queer and free spirited and runnnnning shit. i think, yes, it's a Job which i think we might resist placing parker into. but! of the jobs, at the time, i really see her rocking it during the time period. (also come on, the opportunities to swindle distracted people of their shit would be endless. they would just think they dropped their stuff in the airport! not that it was stolen.)

finally, reggie to alec. i think hardison will be the hardest to translate. even tho i admittedly listen to a lot of true crime podcasts, i dont know much about fbi life and also definitely don't know about it historically. part of me desperately wants to put him somewhere else even if it does have to stay within the fbi. i might cheat and make him like a Q(uartermaster) to 007/00s like in james bond, and he's like UGH this is horrible god i hate working for the fbi but they will give me funding so...... anyway, here's this totally cool [radio term]. that said, if hardison is stuck in the fbi, why he ends up there is that he is a fucking savant when it comes to research and the man can put together a presentation like no one else. that white man gets all the credit for profiling but it was hardison who goddamn was the google of the microfilm days. reggie felt super square but that might be because he had to deal with mcsweeties db cooper shit day in and day out for years. hardison is more himself. and definitely still a nerd. alec would be into dime fantasy novels and comics and ham radios and oh god he also would be into star trek like the original star trek as it came out and he would be into the zines yes! yessss. omg. also he plays a mean arcade cabinet. but he's mostly well adjusted but lonely. his colleagues dont appreciate him because fbi esp during that time were fucking wilding out and racist as hell aaaaaand im sorry im srry im trying so hard to have fbi hardison make sense but also! acab. ANYWAY.

second, the relationship

i think it would be fun to play with what it means to have parker/eliot start off first and bring in hardison afterwards. (if white collar is your thing, it would be like this canon divergent ot3 fic wherein peter burke is the last to join in.) i feel they would be Super Intense esp since they are carrying this big ass secret. kind of broken and dysfunctional and there's the passion and the commitment, but i think there's also a tenderness that's super hard for them to achieve? and i think there's a way that hardison plays such an important part in who they are and how they are. like, sure i think parker/eliot would have joy but they won't have levity. they would have compassion but they won't have gentleness.

eliot meets hardison after being recruited by nate. i think they get close because while nate and eliot have an interesting and compelling mentorship/friendship, nate is still eliots superior; sometimes its nice to complain about your boss, as hardison will say to eliot to try to make friends. i think hardison and eliot would become legit friends and not just work buddies because they are just not cut out of the same cloth as the rest of their colleagues. they grab beers after work. after hard days, hardison cajoles eliot into going to the arcade. they are friends. real real truly deep best friends, in a way hardison didn't think he could have with a fed and eliot didnt think he would have after his friend died. but also? they are like "buds" who are buds who are desperately tryna to cross any lines because there's a.... tension? an UST between them they dont know what to do with.

parker meets eliot by way of a "lets have my friend for dinner, he's a blast." and immediately immediately hardison is like... wow this woman is beautiful but like, really attracted to her personality. and parker things hardison is kinda dorky but cute dorkie? anyway, they have a puppy love situation growing. and it keeps growing until bam. eliot and parker are like. are we into alec???? fuck we are aren't we.

i think stephanie and steve would never tell reggie (even if somehow they were to be a thing). but parker and eliot? hell yeah they tell hardison. eventually. after a while. sooner than maybe they should. the tension if they should say something is one of the things that build up as UST between them for so long; parker and eliot know they are carrying this huge thing. two huge things. eliot being db cooper and also their massive crush on him.

if i could control myself to stick to a pwp, it would be another christmas. maybe the christmas nine (more?) years down the road. the damn snow grounded hardison's flight back to his nana's, and parker and eliot hear this and invite him over. the egg nog gets flowing and parker eventually is like,, fuck this. and comes onto hardison. and hardison would be like wow wow what but... idk, free love and swinging were In The Thoughts And Minds Of The People. he still checks in with eliot who is like. her body, man; i aint gonna tell her what to do. and for a sec hardison is like, man is this a cuck situation? i guess i can be for it but also...... aint mad if i aint alone. and eliot is so grateful and idk. i just want them all to be happy and having fun and no one to be left out. and yeah i am kinda brushing over a lot of the racial politics which, in a more developed fic rather than a pwp, would definitely need to be brought in; but idk that needs to just be in the bedrock of whatever plot is going into this.

it takes a lot of maneuvering of their lives but they make it work and eventually hardison is a keeper of eliot's secret too.

(apart from the historical aspect, another reason i probably won't actually write this is because i know myself. i would want to do worldbuilding. i would follow eliot and alec to their jobs, but i wouldnt want to write outright copaganda. the grit/realism i would be comfortable with would take a level of research i dont think i can commit to. but if someone wants to take this up or if you figure out a way around this issue, pls do i wont be mad)

#eliot spencer #parker leverage #alec hardison #leverage #thiefsome #okay i srsly am not this active but this week got me wanting to talk and talk about these three beauties #the db cooper job

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quarantined-with-bucky · 4 years ago

Text

American Boy

Bucky x Reader

Request: So basically buckyxreader where she is a super successful businesswomen and awfully confident but when she’s with bucky she feels insecure as many women want him and she’s insecure of nat. Based on “American Boy” by little mix where bucky is her american boy and the other girl in the song is nat. So like angst with a happy ending (maybe smut if you’re comfortable idk idk).

Words: ~ 9,700

Summary: Dating Bucky can be challenging sometimes -- all the time.

Warnings: Smut, angst

A/N: Sorry this took me so long :( I recently started work so its been hard to write -- but I’m really happy with how this one turned out!! Thank you so much for the request!

And I met him back when I was out in California He was playing in a band and she was dancing on a stage And he says that I'm the one but she's the one that got away And he never knew her real name

Nothing about tonight sounded mildly comfortable. It was going to be six hours in a too cold banquette hall, standing all night in too tall heels, a too tight dress, with your hair scraped back into a too painful bun. From the moment you stepped inside, the flesh on your arms and décolleté erupting into goosebumps – nothing a little alcohol can’t fix, you thought to yourself, snagging a glass of champagne off of the tray from the first waiter you saw.

“Y/N,” Tony called, opening his arms to greet you. His suit was perfectly pressed, a three-piece suit that cost more than twice your monthly rent. You walked up to him, giving him a side hug, checking yourself out in the reflection of his iconic red glasses. “See, I knew you’d come.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, remembering how for the past week you’d declined his numerous invitations to his party. “I hope you know that I’m charging you overtime for this.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” He ushers you away while he continues mingling with his other guests.

Never in a million years had you thought you’d be an A-list guest at one of Tony Stark’s infamous parties. But, as fate would have it, you and Tony had been working together quite a bit in the recent years. What began as a little start-up from your college dorm room, quickly grew into a multinational billion-dollar company. Stark industries contracted your company out to spearhead multiple new projects – including the development of high-tech equipment for the Avengers. You had many ventures, sectors growing from technological advancement, to biometrics, to teams specializing in law, advertising, and operations.

The past few years had been a whirlwind for you. Moving to New York, managing your ever-growing company – up until now your life had been all work and no play. Once you met Tony, you knew that your world would flip upside down. You’d been in Forbes 30-Under-30 list for three years straight. Your life had grown into nothing but interviews, business deals, and fame – and you loved it. You felt like you were on top of the world at this moment in your life; nothing was going to stop your forward momentum from climbing up the ladder.

“Hey,” a smooth voice pulled you out of your fog, a figure popping up next to you.

“Hey, Steve,” you responded, smiling up at the blond man.

“You having a good night?” You’d met Steve a handful of times before through Tony, working with him a few times in the past. You don’t know if you could outright call him your close friend, but Steve was always so kind.

You could should be using tonight as a networking opportunity, but after an extremely stressful week at work, all you wanted to do was crawl into a bubble bath and relax. You couldn’t do that, so you thought you’d at least try to let loose and take it easy tonight, hoping to catch up with friends and enjoy some time partying. “I guess,” you shrugged, taking another sip of champagne.

“That makes two of us,” he replied, taking an equally long sip of his drink. “It’s hard to lay low at Tony’s parties, y’know?”

“Its hard to lay low when you’re Captain America,” you joked, nudging his arm with your elbow. He rolled his eyes again, running a hand through his short blond hair.

Your eyes scanned over the crowd, trying to find something worthwhile to talk to Steve about: maybe about the couples dancing in the center of the room, the large crowd gathered at the bar, the performers that laced their way through the influx of people. Your gaze fell upon a smaller group of people gathered around a table, laughing, telling stories and interrupting each other with more tall tales. You only recognized a couple people in the group; Sam Wilson: tall, well-built, perhaps a little tipsy, chirping away with his witty comments; Natasha Romanoff: a goddess, quiet, watching, observing, black dress so tight on her beautiful figure it looked like it was painted on; Bucky Barnes: the epitome of tall dark and handsome, at the forefront of the conversation, laughing and cussing telling his sensational war story, dark tendrils of hair hanging loosely in front of his face, obstructing the view of his blue eyes.

“Have you met Bucky?” Steve asked, interrupting your thoughts. You shook your head ‘no,’ unable to tear your eyes away from him. His black suit was complemented quite nicely with a fitted black shirt, the top buttons undone, his tanned muscle peaking out. He ran his metallic hand through his long hair – you finally were able to see his eyes, the only color on him, so bright compared to their dark surroundings. And they were looking at you.

Tearing your eyes away from him, you turned your head up to Steve. He was watching Bucky, watching him looking at you; Steve’s head turned between the two of you, almost unable to stop the smile from pulling at his lips. Steve pulled you into the group, making space for you to stand between him and Bucky. As introductions were passed around the group, you felt eyes on you. This time, the set of green eyes.

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Natasha give you the up and down a few times. Your first reaction was that it wasn’t in a bad or necessarily judgmental way; she was interested in who the outsider was. She was protective, it was instinctual; she would observe said outsider, finding all of her flaws, quirks, secrets, until she was certain she wasn’t a threat. When you were introduced to her, she politely flashed you a smile with her infamous painted red lips and shook your hand.

“(Y/N), this is Bucky,” Steve finished, watching eagerly as the two of you shook hands and exchanged smiles.

“(Y/N),” Bucky whispered, your name tasting sweet on his lips; he tipped his head ever so slightly towards you in greeting.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

Everybody took the hint – that hint being Steve wiggling his eyebrows at everyone – and the group dispersed. You waved goodbye to the like, politely offering goodbyes to everyone. In your peripheral vison, you watched as the red head gave you one final up-and-down, crossing her arms over her busty chest, flitting her eyes to Bucky’s before she strutted off.

…

You hit it off with Bucky instantly, spending the night discussing everything from your future prospects to your relationship status to your past (specifically, your past). He was completely enamored by you. He was obsessed with the fact that people looked up to you; you demanded respect – so much so, in fact, that your success intimidated them; you were unapproachable to those who didn’t have their shit together. After that night, he knew he had to see you again.

And you could not feel more the same way.

It started fairly privately. Despite your constant media attention – being the CEO of a Fortune 500 company had that effect – being Tony Stark’s business partner escalated that. Usually on your commute to and from work, whether that be your corporate office or the Avenger’s tower, there would be a few paparazzi and a couple reporters following you around. They wanted information on you, your ventures, but most importantly: Tony Stark. When you were contracted to work with Stark Industries, you knew this was a possibility – in fact, it was the number one con on your pros & cons list. While you did think it was a decent opportunity for exposure, it surely came back to bite you in the ass.

You didn’t anticipate meeting Bucky Barnes – you surely didn’t anticipate dating him, either. You couldn’t be happier with Bucky; you wouldn’t let the incessant paparazzi and media attention get to you. Surely, you’d figured that dating an actual Avenger would draw some attention to yourself. However, you couldn’t have predicted the magnitude it would have on your daily life. The amount cameramen and reporters that followed you on a daily basis more than doubled.

Now, you’d never considered yourself shy, especially not camera shy – hell, all you were doing was walking from your car to and from different buildings – you could surely handle getting your picture taken. You had to admit, you were put together (and damn hot). You wore tailored suits, the tall heels; your hair and makeup were done perfectly every day.

It’s not like you hadn’t been on the cover of magazines before; but they were articles, studies, biographies. You posed for the cover of Forbes and Wall Street Journal and Harvard Business Review. Gracing the cover of tabloid magazines, however, was new territory for you. They talked about your style, your makeup, you clothes, your hair – nothing was too surface level for them to delve into. At first, that’s all it was. Noting and pricing your style, People magazine printing a “Who is She?” issue.

Then the comparisons started.

It was a side-by-side of you and Natasha – Black Widow. How could you compete with her?

You were sitting in bed one morning, up early before dawn, checking your phone before you started your morning routine. It was supposed to be like any other Thursday: work, meetings, executive board reviews: productive. But after reading that article, your heart deflated; today would only truly be over once you get to crawl back into your bed at the end of the day and sulk under the covers.

You slowly let out a long breath as you scrolled quickly through the article. “(Y/N) Becomes Black Widow’s Replacement: Is She Good Enough or Will She Get Tangled in the Web?” leave it to Daily Mail to start off with a shitty pun to ruin your mood.

The first picture was a full body shot of you laid next to a similar image of Natasha. She was shorter, sure – but curvier. She had more muscle, obviously – and those legs. Even you wanted to be strangled to death by her thighs. (And you felt like dying at that moment, that’s for sure). Maybe she just wore tighter clothes? You did, in fact, wear well-tailored clothes – you were actually very fashion forward for the business world, taking Fall 2020 by storm. She just got the chance to wear tighter clothes more often.

The second photo was an extremely flattering behind shot. The photographer might as well have taken the camera and pointed it right up your skirt. You’d heard the tabloids comparing the asses of other famous women, surely even the English Royalty had headlines circulating about it. You actually thought you had a good ass – you do – but hers was better. Black fucking Widow and you were supposed to somehow compete?

The last shot was a close up of your faces. You had to admit, they probably could’ve picked a worse picture of you. You weren’t smiling, you weren’t frowning – it was neutral. Your brows maybe slightly narrowed. Natasha, on the other hand, was glaring at the paparazzi. They gave her space, as if they took one step too close, she would murder them (and although she was actually extremely kind to you, they were probably right in that case). Her glare exuded confidence, intimidation. That was the difference between your auras: while your success may have been intimidating to others, it was her essential being that was intimidating – she could kill you just by looking at you.

While some people may not appreciate that fact, the pure daunting atmosphere that surrounded her, there was one person that did: James Buchanan Barnes.

He, himself, had the same ambiance, after all: that is being the don’t fuck with me stare.

Oh, and I don't mean to get so caught up And insecure 'bout all the things you say Oh, and I don't mean to be jealous, it's just careless me Boy, I must drive you mad

“Hey, Bucky,” you greeted, swinging open your front door, pressing a chaste kiss to the lips of the man before you.

He hummed against your lips, caught off guard as you pulled away sooner than expected. “Hey, baby,” he responded, shrugging it off stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. “It smells great,” he noted regarding the pasta sauce simmering on the stove. He dipped a metallic pinky finger in the sauce, cheekily smiling at you as he licked his makeshift tasting-spoon. “Tastes great – no surprise.”

You couldn’t help but return his smile, trying to shake off the bad day you’d had, instead turning all focus to your giggle boyfriend before you. He takes two steps forward, engulfing you in his strong arms, rubbing his flesh hand up and down your back in a soothing motion. You rested your cheek against his chest, taking a deep breath in; his earthy scent calmed you down, the heat radiating off of him offering you to a level of relaxation you didn’t know was possible. “Did you have a bad day, baby?” He cooed quietly, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear.

“Yeah,” you breathed, nodding into his chest. “Bad. And busy. And annoying.”

“Annoying?” He repeated, testing the word on his tongue, but not questioning further. “Come on, why don’t we eat because I’m hungry – and I know you’re hungry – and get you to relax.” You smile up at him, giving him a proper kiss this time, unsure if he was just saying that to get dinner going, or if his supersoldier senses could actually tell that you were hungry (because you were).

Dinner went smoothly. It was quiet, moreso than usual. But it was nice. It was calm: a good change of pace from both of your busy schedules. It was tranquil: spending the evening exchanging loving glances and touches across the table, playing footstie under the table, Bucky quite literally licking pasta sauce off your cheek.

As he finished up his third serving (to which you just sip your wine while he gets his fill), you can’t help but break the silence and light conversation with a loaded question: “What’s with you and Natasha?”

You didn’t mean for the question to come out so abrupt or harsh, but it had been eating at your mind all day. You’d found yourself looking at that article during every five-minute break you got. Comparing hair, clothes, smiles, eyes, teeth – everything.

“What’s with us?” He repeated, eyebrows cocked in misunderstanding, palms raised in confusion. He didn’t understand the question.

You sighed heavily, dropping your eyes to the near empty wine glass before you. “I don’t know,” you grumbled, running your hands over your forehead, dropping them behind your head, pulling your hair a bit. “I’ve been seeing these articles about her – about her and me,” you clarified, trailing off, hoping he’d understand the picture. As he remained silent, you sat back against your chair, slouching. “Did you guys date or something?” You immediately bit the inside of your cheek. The question burned coming off your tongue.

His chuckle almost startled you out of your fog; your stomach dropped as you felt knots pull at all your insides. “Babe.” He reaches across the table with open palms, waiting for you to place your hands in his. You hesitated, but eventually complied, his soft smile and kind eyes giving you no other choice. “No. We never had – or did – anything. Never. I promise.”

Okay, well that made you feel better. You let out a breathy sigh (this time of relief) as you gave his hands a gentle squeeze. “Okay,” you repeated. “Okay.” It made you feel a little better, sure, but then why?

He raised his eyebrows once again. “You don’t believe me?”

“No – no, no, no – ” you replied quickly, reaching farther across the table, fingertips grazing his forearms. “I’m just confused. I keep seeing articles comparing me and her,” you stated very slowly, unsure of the right words, unsure of what his innate reaction would be.

“We have a… past,” he responded, slowly; it was calculated.

But in that moment, he knew he miscalculated. “A past?”

No, not like that, he thought. But like what, exactly? How was he supposed to explain it? God, his own life was complicated enough to explain – he hadn’t dared to divulge that deep, in fear of ruining your newly blossoming relationship. He owed you some sort of explanation, though, right? But he was at a loss for words at the worst time possible. “It just goes back to… a long time ago… with… well… ” With no words left to complete his fragment of a sentence, he raised his left hand and wiggled his metallic fingers.

Your lips formed an “oh” shape as you said the same word mentally. Oh, no shit, more like. The Russian spy and the Winter Soldier had intertwined pasts. You felt like an idiot – like the answer was laying right there before you, your eyes glazing right over it. “Bucky, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry but – ”

He cut you off immediately, taking one of your hands into both of his. He looked you straight in the eyes, his own blue irises staring deep into yours. “Don’t apologize, please.” He swallowed hard. “I don’t want that part of my life taking over my life now. You’re not prying – I need to be open with you about it.” You nodded slowly. “I want you to be apart of my life, (Y/N),” he clarified, nearly smiling at you missing the implication of his previous sentence.

You grinned, a goofy wine-infused smile. You leaned across the table, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips.

That night, he began telling you about his past; nothing he wasn’t comfortable with discussing was mentioned. You didn’t push him, didn’t ask questions, didn’t offer opinion or advice. The only thing you offered was solace, comfort, and hot tea. You held him in bed, ran your fingers through his hair, rubbed small circles on his muscled back.

He told you about how he trained her, how their connected past drew scrutiny to them in the media. How their ties to Russia, Hydra, and a few not-so politically correct incidents in the past tied them closer together both in eyes of the tabloids and, subsequently, to each other.

You had no questions, no comments. There was nothing for you to say. You weren’t questioning the validity of his past and you didn’t question the fact that he and Natasha were just friends. You were confident in Bucky, confident that he was telling the truth – confident in your relationship.

The two of you fell asleep that night wiping tears off each other’s cheeks; but neither of you had felt more safe – more in love – than at that moment in your lives.

…

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you,” he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing down at you – at your figure.

You were turned away from him, trying to busy yourself, acting as though bringing it up again was casual, like it was just a normal question on par with how was your day? It, in fact, was extremely loaded; there couldn’t be more of a loaded question, in Bucky’s opinion (in your own opinion, too). But, dammit, you needed validation – wasn’t that okay?

It was okay.

It was always okay. Bucky understood that. Even he, himself, needed validation in a similar way. However, there were two distinct differences about what he needed vs. what you needed.

1. He never needed validation against someone else.

Bucky was insecure – the fact of the matter was every single person in the world had insecurities, from the brightest minds to the most beautiful models; there isn’t a single person who isn’t immune to outside pressure, societal expectations, internal comparisons. Sometimes Bucky would be insecure of his arm, oftentimes he’d be insecure about his past. He’d wonder about his hair, he’d read articles about himself, comments people posted online. Bucky had a certain confidence about himself, sure. He was intimidating (that was both a good and a bad thing).

But you. You were intimidating, too – you were, in Bucky’s eyes – the baddest bitch; you controlled the business world, dominate magazine headlines, demanded the attention of every man in the room. He loved it. He loved the fact that you were all that and more, and that he got to come home to you. He got to hold you in his arms at night. He got to make love to you.

That’s why he didn’t understand your – what he determined to be – obsession with her. All the time asking him about her. Were you as good as her? Were you better than her? He understood, at first. Natasha was very intimidating – to anyone, even her own team. He didn’t mind showing you extra attention, sprinkling you with more compliments, lovingly laying his hands on the places you didn’t like about yourself. He loved you; he loved complimenting you. Nothing he ever said was a lie, so he had no problem saying them.

But as time went on, you kept asking. About. Her.

2. He believed you when you validated him.

Not only were you asking about Natasha, constantly comparing yourself to her – your body, your brains, your face, even your hair. Again, he had no problem telling you how beautiful you were; it was a service to you that he would trade anything in the world for. He loved to say that to you; complimenting your intelligence, looks, attitude – all of it.

Maybe he wasn’t complimenting you enough anymore? Even so, you had to know the way he felt about you? He tried really hard to validate it as his own fault. Like it was something he had done to cause you to suddenly be so insecure. But all it took was one walk down the bustling street-stands on the New York City’s streets for him to realize. You, after all, had graced the cover of every magazine as of lately. You and Natasha.

He wasn’t so hard on you or himself after that little piece clicked in his head.

But at the end of the day, he couldn’t stop himself from wondering if you never believed him. Did you trust him? Did you love him? Those questions ran through his head at night – as much as he hated it, he couldn’t stop it.

“It’s not how many times, Bucky! It’s – it’s – ” You tripped over your own words.

“What is it, then, (Y/N)? Because I sure as hell can’t figure it out.” In fact, you didn’t know what it was. You couldn’t pinpoint it. You couldn’t put the words together.

You turned around, crossing your arms across your chest, mirroring him. You just stared back it him, biting your lip. There wasn’t anything you could say; just offered him a shrug.

“(Y/N), come on,” he began. “You can’t seriously believe the shit they say.” He was referring to the incessant media coverage. The eyes on you – 24/7 cameras. It eats away at you; it was all you could think about. “You’re too smart for them. What’s this all about, then?”

If there was anyone who could see right through you, it was him. But if there was one thing he needed to know about you, it was that you had too much pride to admit any sort of insecurity to anyone – even your boyfriend of now eight months.

It was in that moment that you wondered if he took a short tone with her the way he had been with you lately. Did she have to ask him such endless questions? Definitely not. She had nothing to worry about. She didn’t care.

That was the difference between the two of you.

You couldn’t do anything but care.

Singing, singing, singing Ooh la la, he breaks my heart I know he thinks about her when he plays guitar And ooh la la, my American boy

You and Bucky sat on the couch, the movie playing in front you now long forgotten. The past few weeks have been stressful for the both of you. You were both dealing with a lot at work; you with new projects and development issues, Bucky with compiling intel that seemly led nowhere. Last night, you’d attended another one of Tony’s parties with Bucky. You thought it was going to be a fun night, seeing all your old friends, catching up with everyone you hadn’t seen in so long. What was supposed to be a casual night of fun drinking and dancing, turned sour very quickly.

It was nice in the beginning, catching up with Sam and Steve; that is, until you caught a glimpse of Bucky from the corner of your eye. He was just meant to get a refill of drinks. All he had to do was weave through the crowd, make it to the bar, and return with the drinks. You felt that it shouldn’t have taken him that long. Maybe you should’ve offered to get them instead.

There he stood, leaning against the bar, a handful of cold drinks sitting in front of him on the tabletop. You watched as he ignored the cups the bartender placed down in front of him a few minutes ago; watched as a drop of precipitation slid down the side of the cold glass, pooling with all the others at the granite bar top.

Beside him, a tall blonde mimicked his movements, leaning against the counter. She spoke to him in a hushed tone, gazing up at him under her long eyelashes. Her perfectly manicured hands grazed up and down his arm, undoubtedly innocently asking about the strong metal underneath his shirt sleeve. You rolled your eyes, nearly scoffing at her fairly blatant attempt at flirting.

You wouldn’t be so pissed off, usually. She was beautiful, sure, but you were confident in your relationship with Bucky. You knew how he felt about you and he knew how strong your feelings were for him. There was no doubt on either end – so why shouldn’t he be able to have a conversation with some woman at a party? He had just grown comfortable enough to talk about his metal arm, finally accepting the gift that the great King T’Challa had gifted him.

So why did this interaction piss you off so much?

Because you knew that if a man had come up to you to chat so innocently with you, he’d be on him in less than one second. And if a man had come up to you to chat while also running his hand up your arm or down your back, Bucky would ensure that man would be leaving this party with nothing but then broken fingers.

But your pride took the best of you, as usual. You rolled your eyes to yourself, carrying on your conversation with Sam and Steve, trying your best not to look over Sam’s shoulder too much, staring past him and at Bucky. You held your empty cup in your hand, almost now more pissed that your new drink was sitting lonely at the bar, when you needed alcohol more than ever in this moment.

All you wanted was to go up there, rip her hand off your boyfriend, and get your damn drink. Instead, you held your tongue all night. When Bucky returned with your drink, you thanked him and took it, gulping it down fairly quickly. When his hand rested on your waist, you simply gave yourself a twist, shrugging his hand off of you. You felt him give you a questioning look, but you simply pretended not to notice, instead keeping your eyes locked on Sam’s as he told his story about what ever he was talking about (you weren’t really paying attention); just smiling and nodding and looking as engaged as possible.

When you and Bucky got home that night, you quickly showered and crawled into bed. Bucky had been trying to talk to you on the car ride home, all night while you got ready for bed. Finally giving you your peace to shower, he decided to try again once he slipped into bed beside him. “What’s going on, (Y/N),” he whispered, turning towards you; but he was met with the sight of your back turned to him.

“Nothing,” you replied, face smooshed int the pillow. “’M just tired.”

His hand found your side, rubbing over your hip bone slightly, as he moved closer to you in bed. His chest pressed up against your back, his breath tickling the back of your neck. “Is that all, baby?” He kept pressing. “Let me make you feel better,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your neck, burying his face in your shoulder.

“No, Buck, stop.” You shrugged him off and lifted your shoulders in protest, pushing his head away. “I’m not in the mood – I just want to go to sleep.”

“Sorry, (Y/N),” he whispered, settling back down in the bed.

You tried to fall asleep that night, you really were tired – exhausted, in fact. But you just couldn’t calm your racing mind enough to fall asleep. You knew Bucky knew it, too. You suspected that he didn’t get much sleep either.

When you finally did get a few hours of rest, you woke up to a note left by Bucky.

Went for an early workout with Steve. Feel better, I’ll call you later.

You gave yourself a whole self-care day. Bath, face mask, manicure – the whole nine yards. You willed yourself to think of anything except Bucky and that girl – Bucky and any girl.

Every girl in the world had eyes for Bucky – why wouldn’t they? He’s absolutely gorgeous: tall, handsome, he’s got the mysterious vibe going on – basically every woman’s walking wet dream. You always gave him the benefit of the doubt when it came to women flirting with him. He was from a different time; he was just being polite. That’s what you told yourself, at least. The more Steve told you stories about him being a charmer – how he always “wooed” women back in the day – the more unsettled you became. Maybe he missed being a flirt, afterall, as he recovered, he slipped back into his old ways, whether that be an old Brooklyn accent, or his charming smile.

But how many times could you just brush it off? Blatantly flirting in front of you – sure it may have been an innocent conversation or an innocent arm touch (you know that’s how he would sell it to you) but hell, he lived in a different time now. So, he just had to get used to the fact that he had to stop letting these girls flirt with him. Was it really so hard to tell them he had a girlfriend?

Unless he thought about it and didn’t want to. He was so touch starved for the past seventy-plus years that who knows? Maybe he did enjoy all the attention – especially all the female attention. Considering the fact he was such a ladies man, maybe this is exactly what he wanted to feel like himself again, winning over all the women. And, god, all the tall women with their perfect faces and gorgeous chests, showing off more skin than they covered. They had the confidence of models, the ferociousness of catwoman – not to mention Black Widow; she was her own breed of gold-like-women.

He didn’t call you until the next day.

That’s how you ended up on your sofa, innocently watching a movie, two boxes of pizza abandoned on your coffee table. Neither of you brought up the night of Tony’s party; instead, you two sought solace in each other’s arms on the plush couch between piles of pillows.

You two ended up making out, his hands wrapping around your waist and up your back, yours winding their way through locks of his long hair. He leaned over you, your back meeting the sofa top and his chest pressing to yours. His pelvis touched yours, grinding lazily against yours. A mess of legs entangled with each other at the opposite end of the couch. His hand slid down your side, squeezing between your bodies to unbutton your jeans, his fingers slipping underneath your panties.

He groaned once his finger slipped between your slit, moaning at the wetness he found there. He pulled his hands up and shimmied your pants off, his own jeans following suit. He didn’t bother even taking them off all the way, instead latching himself on you with his pants and underwear pooling at his ankles.

His hands grabbed your hips, roughly pushing into you while his lips attached themselves to your neck. You gasped, the sudden entry startling to you. Your arms encased his torso, nails digging into his back as he roughly fucked you into the mattress. You hips met his as you tried to rock against him to meet his thrusts. His hands pinned your hips down, jackhammering you into the couch.

You were panting and moaning and screaming. You couldn’t help the noises that were coming out of your mouth. You and Bucky had tried some pretty not-vanilla stuff in the past, and sure, sex was maybe one of the best ways to get your anger out. But Bucky hadn’t ever been this nonattentive to you before. Or this quiet. Usually you couldn’t get him to shut up – between the dirty talk and the praise, you could never get him to shut up; and he loved it. He knew his whispers and all his egging-you on only flustered you more. That was the sex you loved.

This was different. He didn’t say anything; he just grunting to himself as he pounded into you, hips snapping into yours. God, you were going to be bruised tomorrow just from how hard he was holding you down. He wasn’t attentive, nor perceptive to you. He didn’t kiss you, just barred his teeth through heavy breaths.

This must have been all related to the night at Tony’s party. He was probably angry with you after that night – not talking to him at all. Not to mention you didn’t say anything when he clearly knew something was up with you; you definitely owed him an explanation. You couldn’t blame him or being angry. You weren’t so sure this was his best reaction. He was so dangerously quiet.

That’s when you threw your head back against the pillows, biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut. Was he just fucking you to fuck you? He came quickly and without warning, spilling into you with nothing but another grunt.

He dropped on top of you, pelvis to pelvis, his cock still inside your warm cunt. He dropped his head to your chest, you shirt still left on from earlier. He shut his eyes and wrapped his arms around him. Your fingers found his hair, stroking his chestnut strands as he fell asleep on top of you.

Maybe he was just tired from waking up early? He probably needed to get his aggressions from the day out – not to mention the frustration from you basically ignoring him all day and night. There was a feeling in the back of your head, though, that this sudden change of pace may have been brought on by something else. His eyes were shut the whole time – hell, maybe he was thinking about that blonde girl from the party.

You said it to yourself as a joke – it was a fleeting thought. But you couldn’t stop thinking about it after that. Was he picturing someone else? He wasn’t turned on by you – you didn’t even get a chance to do anything sexy before he was fucking you with your clothes on. He’d probably rather be sleeping with someone else. Someone who made porn star noises and pulled his hair harder and –

God, you were tired of thinking like this.

So I wanna know who's on your phone Making me paranoid, making me bad Making me sad, making me crazy Making me feel like I needed to ask I wanna know if you're at home And if you're at home, baby, are you alone? Are you alone? Answer your phone Oh, baby, no no no

Things went back to normal after that. You weren’t sure what had gotten into him – and you – that day, but it was nothing but a distant memory. You were dating for about a year and a half. From that point, you two had kept everything very lowkey. Extravagant parties were few and far between, dates became even more private – no distractions, nothing to get between the two of you.

“Baby, I’m home,” you called, throwing your purse and keys on the kitchen table. You were hit with the faint smell of dinner, but as you checked the stovetop and oven, you were met with nothing – just the leftovers already cold in the fridge. You worked late tonight – tonight and every other night for the past three weeks. It was only nine, which wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t have to wake up at five tomorrow to get into the office early. Your team was being met with a deadline soon, there were a lot of extra hours being put in to get the project done. You weren’t one to complain because you were the boss. You weren’t going at this alone, you had everyone else working with you helping out. But it was your job to make sure everything got done, and that included being the first one in and the last one out.

Bucky said it never bothered him. He’d go on missions for days – sometimes weeks – at a time. He encouraged you to work hard, he loved your drive and commitment to your company. He motivated you; he knew you had drive and could get things done. He loved being able to support you, too. When Steve first introduced the idea of dating to him, he wasn’t sure he wanted someone who was only obsessed with him: who got their own recognition just by being his girlfriend. He was lucky enough to be your boyfriend.

You took the Tupper wear from the fridge, popping it in the microwave and waiting for your food. You noticed Bucky on the sofa. Kicking your heels off you made your way to the living room, calling out to him again. He sat up, his face donning a large grin as he waved to you, quickly pointing to the cell phone propped up against his ear. You gave him a shy wave back, turning back to the microwave, soon to be beeping with your meal. You ate dinner alone at the kitchen table, nothing but the sound of Bucky’s roaring laughter bouncing off your ear. By the time you finished, you tossed the bowl into the sink, making your way up to your bedroom.

“Ok, yeah, I’ve gotta go – ” Bucky said into the phone, before interrupting himself with a chuckle, laughing at whatever the person on the other end said. “Yes, I have to go. Yeah, no, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

You shut the door before he could get off the couch and flopped straight into bed, groaning. All you wanted to do was fall right asleep, unbothered. That’s when Bucky came in and plopped himself right down on the bed next to you. “Hey, babe,” he greeted you, giving you a light pat on the ass.

“Hey, Buck,” you replied, tucking your arms up underneath your head, propping your head up on your hands. You offered him a tired smile, gazing into his adoring blue eyes. “Who was that on the phone?”

“It was nobody,” he replied, quickly changing the subject. “How was work?”

Well that was extremely unlike him. You already knew all his friends. If it was one of them, he would’ve just said so. But it clearly wasn’t, especially considering how giggly he was on the phone. You just narrowed your eyes at him, breezing right past it. “Good – tiring,” you corrected. “But this contract closes out next week, so hopefully not that many more long days after that.”

“Good to hear, I know you can get it done, baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

…

The next day, you were met with nearly the same sight. Bucky on the couch, but this time, dinner was covered on the stove. “Thanks for cooking, Buck,” you call to him, taking the lid off the pot and serving yourself a plate. He jumped from the couch and came up behind you, hugging you from behind and kissing your neck.

“Anytime, baby.” He pressed another smooch to your neck before stepping back and grabbing a bottle of wine from the counter. He poured up to glasses, situating himself at one end of the table, waiting for you to join him at the other end. Once you do, your phone rings from your purse. You drop your head back with a groan. “You should probably get that,” Bucky offered, reaching for your purse and holding it out to you.

You give him a quiet “thank you,” and answer the call. Not even before you can answer it, he’s pulling out his own phone and texting away on it. You take your call at the table, a quick last-minute question from a colleague. You tried to focus on what he was saying on the other line, but all you could do was stare at Bucky, smiling down at his phone, furiously typing away.

“No problem, Dave. Thanks for taking a look at it, we can finish up tomorrow morning,” you say into the phone, offering a quick goodbye before hanging up and digging into your food, glaring at Bucky from under your eyelashes. He still sat on his phone, laughing to himself. Once he heard your knife slide against the plate, he locked his phone, shoving it back into his pocket and looking up at you, starting another conversation about your day. You quickly changed the subject to him.

You internally rolled your eyes. All you got was talking about your day and whatever girl on the other end got giggly Bucky? Whenever work got busy, your relationship got boring. It may have been partially your fault: short tempered, tired; you put everything into your work and maybe not enough into Bucky. But your jealousy issues got the better of you. Maybe he was just talking to Sam? Or laughing at memes with Steve – they had a lot to catch up on, afterall. But if so, wouldn’t he just say that instead of saying he was talking to “nobody?”

But your paranoia was actually well placed and almost deserving. Bucky still graced the covers of magazines and newspapers. The attention people gave you quickly died down after the one-year mark on your relationship. You didn’t mind, all it was just a little more peace in your day-to-day life. That same attention never did (and never would) die down for him. He still saved the world; more importantly, he was still hot. Meaning the tabloids would continue to try to stir up trouble with him and every woman he knew. They wanted to play matchmaker, constantly shipping him with the other beautiful women he spent time with – whether that be at work or not. Thinking about all that and Bucky’s charismatic personality was almost too much for you.

…

The third night in a row where you’d come home past nine. The first night without dinner. You were met with an empty apartment, no food, no lights, not a single sign of life. You tossed your bag on the table and immediately called for takeout. As you waited for your Chinese food to arrive, you changed into your pajamas, and called Bucky.

No answer.

All you wanted was to lay on the couch and feast with him. If you were going to stuff your face, you wanted it to be with someone who really knew how to eat. After trying again with no answer, you dropped your phone on the coffee table and began flipping through the channels on TV. Not finding anything good to watch, but also deciding you didn’t have the mental capacity to watch something new, you threw on some Friends reruns. Something you could watch without having to pay attention: just what you were in the mood for.

When the doorbell rang, you jumped, almost forgetting you ordered food. You swung open the door, half expecting to find Bucky on the other side, but you were instead met with the delivery boy. You paid the guy and took the food to the living room, feasting on the couch straight from the little takeaway containers. You didn’t do this often, but damn, it was relaxing.

You picked up your phone: no notifications.

There were a few excuses you made up for him as you stuffed your face with noodles. He could be in the middle of training. You knew him and Steve too well, and knew they always had enough supersoldier energy to fit a workout in anywhere and anytime. That, or he could just be busy. Maybe a work thing came up – he does save the world for a living, afterall. He could just be at the tower. It’s not like he officially lived with you. (It was unofficial, though; he did spend nearly every other night sleeping here with you. And if he didn’t, he would at least give you a reason why he wasn’t). But you’re not his mother or his gatekeeper. There was no reason he absolutely had to tell you where he was and that he wasn’t coming over – that was crazy. But it was just…

Unlike him.

Even if he was at the tower, why wouldn’t he answer?

And as you continued onto your dumplings, you quickly began comfort eating, as your mind traveled to the worst reason you could make up.

Afterall, he never told you who he was laughing on the phone with all this time. He couldn’t even stop himself from laughing at his texts – it was blatantly obvious. There’s no way Reddit could be that funny. You scoffed. It probably was some girl – maybe that blonde from the party. You had no idea of knowing who, but you surely couldn’t stop yourself from speculating.

You called again.

Again.

You just wanted to hear his voice.

You just wanted to know he was okay.

Okay and alone.

American, my American, American boy You know it's my American boy

It wasn’t every day that you thought about Bucky in such a way. Honestly, you didn’t like to think about the other women that he might be friends (or more) with. It was just your own little fucked up indulgence.

Against your best judgement, Bucky convinced you to go to another one of Tony’s parties. “It’s Steve’s birthday party, (Y/N), you have to go!”

So, you did go. And just like the very first time you met Bucky – at one of these parties – you dragged yourself out of bed and got all dressed up to head to the event. You knew even Steve wouldn’t want such a big celebration, so you’d at least have one person to mope around with.

You held on to Bucky the whole night; your arm gripping his metal bicep as the two of you mingled. Bucky liked having you tucked into his side all night, the warmth of your body pressed up against his arm. “Hey, Stevie,” you greeted him, offering a warm hug. “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks, (Y/N),” he replied, hugging you, then Bucky. “Happy Independence Day,” he added.

Bucky’s hand immediately snaked around your waste, pulling your hip against his.

It wasn’t until he left to use the bathroom that you suddenly felt naked. You almost wanted to wrap your arms around yourself in comfort. You felt stupid – you were in a room full of friends, people you knew, that you liked. Yet, every time you were in this setting, you never felt more insecure.

And apparently it showed.

You were joined by none-other than the reason for your insecurity. “(Y/N),” she greeted you with a curt nod.

“Hey, Natasha,” you responded, taking a long sip of your drink. She watched you under lidded eyes, her red lips pursing slightly. She looked great, of course, her royal blue dress hugging her curves tightly, he heels adding extra height the both of you knew she didn’t need. “What’s up?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Enjoying the night?”

Now it was your turn to shrug. “As much as I can, I guess. I’ve been waiting for the fireworks show. It was the best last year.”

She nodded, this time taking a swig of her own drink. “Tony sure does know how to throw a party.”

“Yeah,” you scoffed. “He’s thrown enough of them.”

The two of you stood in silence for a moment; it wasn’t super comfortable for you, but she sure didn’t seem to notice – or care. “You seem a little on edge.”

She wanted you to out yourself. Surely, she was going to pull it out of you somehow. “Not really my scene,” you noted, swirling the ice around in your glass.

“Look, (Y/N),” she began, obviously confirming your suspicion. “There’s never been anything between me and Bucky. In fact – ” she glanced around the room, eyes stopping on a particular man. “ – I’ve got a few skeletons of my own.” You tried to follow her line of sight, but the crowd was too thick in that direction. “He loves you so stop trying to find things wrong with your relationship. He may have been a charming guy back in the day, but you’ve got him wrapped around your finger.” She winked, a small smile building across her plump red lips.

You didn’t even know what to say in that moment. You gawked at her – at Black Widow hyping you up? Was that her way of doing it? Hell, she could tell you that you intimidated every single person in this room, and you’d take it as the biggest compliment ever. To hear about your power from her? Practically an honor.

“Hey,” Bucky spoke up from behind you as he returned. “What’s goin’ on over here?”

“Just girl talk,” Natasha replied before heading off.

Bucky turned to you, confused. “What’s that about?”

You stared at her as she walked away, swaying her hips and heading for the man she mentioned earlier. “I’m not too sure,” you said slowly, mesmerized by her walk.

Bucky’s hand in yours made you turn up towards him, meeting his blue eyes. “Ready to get out of here?” He whispered lowly.

You bit your lip and nodded, setting your glass down and squeezing his hand in both of yours.

Bucky carried you from the front door to the bed; he placed you down on top of the mattress like you were made of glass. He kissed your lips like he was going off to war, but he tasted like he’d just returned.

His hands ran furiously over your back, eventually resting on the zipper and tugging downwards; your hands ran all over his chest, tugging his shirt open, no regard for the buttons. He started peeling your dress off your body as you leaned back on the bed, working on taking off your bra while he discarded the dress on the floor. He followed suit, discarding his clothes before returning to the bed, covering your body with his warm one. His flesh hand cupped your jaw, the other holding his balance on the bed. Your arms wrapped around his neck one hand holding the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you, deepening the kiss, while the other ran through his tangled hair. You interlocked your legs around his waist, pulling yourself upwards to grind on his hard cock.

He moaned into your mouth, grinding back into you, reveling in just the feeling of your wetness gliding against his cock. His hand left your face to grab your ass, giving it a firm squeeze before he pinned your hips to the mattress with his own, humping against you. You whispered against him, pleading: “Bucky, please,” you whispered against his lips.

His mouth skidded down your cheek and past your jawline to suck a sloppy kiss onto your neck. As his face was buried in your shoulder, making his way down to your breast, his hand found its way between your hips, stroking your soaked lips. You hummed and gripped his hair as his finger split the difference, prodding its way into your soaked entrance. As two other fingers joined in, curling inside of your pussy, he licked your nipple, biting the pebbled nub softly. “You’re so wet, baby. Love how you’re always so wet for me.”

“Only for you, James,” you whispered, blissed out, head falling back against the mattress as his thumb found your clit, rubbing small circles under the hood. You felt a jolt up your body, your pussy instinctively clenching against his fingers.

He let out a deep breath, kissing your breast before planting a wet kiss to your lips, fingers not faltering. “I love you, (Y/N),” he murmured against your lips.

You opened your eyes, meeting his staring down at you, glazed over with lust. “I love you, baby,” you breathed, tilting your head up to kiss him again.

He pulled away from you, fingers stilling, long forgotten in the moment. “No, baby – ” he stopped, staring down at you, pleading with you, please understand. “Only you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. Tears burning the back of your eyes. You bit your lip, nodding, not trusting your words as a few tears fell from the sides of your eyes, rolling down your skin to the mattress. He kissed you feverishly, teeth chipping against each other’s, lips and tongues sloppily sliding over each other, sharing air.

He pulled his hand away from your thighs, not moving far to line up his dick to your now soaked and desperate pussy. Your breath hitched as he pushed the tip in; all the air Bucky held in his lungs suddenly escaped him. “Fuck, extra tight for me tonight, huh?” You moaned, trying to rock your hips against his, his bodyweight pinning you down. “Eager, baby,” he groaned from the back of his throat.

“Please, baby,” you begged, fisting the sheets, using all your energy to grind against him. “Please.”

Please.

He complied, snapping his hips down into yours, his big dick stretching your walls. You yelped out, your opening burning as it welcomed his length. His cock curved upwards, hitting deep inside you as he swiftly moved his hips back and forth, quick rhythm never erring. His hand fell to your lower stomach, as he pressed his hand firmly above your public bone. “Mmm, look, baby, I can feel my dick in you,” he whispered, reveling in the feeling as his dick bottomed out inside of you. He felt the tip through the soft flesh of your belly – boy, you felt it, too. Every time he pounded into you felt your head spin. You saw nothing but black, stars blinding your vision at every thrust.

You nearly snaked your hand down to your clit for your final release, but he pulled your hand away, pinning it to the mattress above your head. He sat up on his knees, grabbing your other hand and joining it with the other, holding them both down to the mattress under the grasp on his metal hand. As he returned to leaning over you, sliding his dick back in your pussy, his flesh hand returned to your clit, rubbing in fast circles. You screamed, thighs coming together, snapping tightly against his hips.

That wouldn’t stop him. You weren’t strong enough to hold him in place; he kept fucking you into the mattress, your body shaking wildly as your legs were tied around him. Your back arched off the bed as your pussy throbbed. “Yeah, baby, squeezing my dick with your tight little pussy, huh?” You screamed out and nodded your head wildly, clenching around his cock as the pressure on your clit built up. “Fuck, you’re so good to me – made for me.”

You pulled against his metal arm, body convulsing underneath him. He watched with anticipation, biting his own lip nearly bloody as he pushed you over the edge of your orgasm. You yelped out, gasping for air as your eyes squeezed tight. Your legs shook around him, fingers clawing at his metal plated hand. Bucky could come along just from watching you tremble mid orgasm. But, god, your tight pussy quiver around him surely helped. He fucked you harder, the last few strokes hard and fast. He came with a groan, spilling his hot seed into your soaked cunt.

He whispered curse words to himself as he fucked his dick soft, mixing your own juices together before falling on top of you, pressing his lips to your neck, littering hickeys all over.

As he felt your post orgasm breathing change, he picked his head up, kissing all the way up your neck and jaw until he could look fully down at you. “Hey, baby, no,” he cooed once he caught sight of your watery eyes. “Why are you crying?” He kissed away the tears running down your cheeks.

You smiled at him, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. “’M fine, Buck – I just,” you huffed, rolling your teary eyes at yourself, thinking it all suddenly stupid. “I’m sorry – ”

“’s nothing to be sorry for, baby,” he whispered against the shell of your ear.

Your fingers grazed through his hair again, scratching slightly at his scalp. He knew. He knew what you were talking about. He always did – he always understood everything you did or said. “I love you, James.”

“I love you, (Y/N),” he murmured with one final kiss. “Only you.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes smut #captain america #fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes angst

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thephantomofthe-internet · 4 years ago

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Read into Me Chapter 4: North and South

Steve Harrington x Reader

CATCH UP ON THE SERIES HERE

Words: 4,753

Warnings: Swearing, bullying, i reference the plot of Wuthering Heights and that has some icky stuff in it idk what to tag that though

Author’s Note: How’re you guys liking the series so far? I’m really enjoying it, I’d love to hear what you guys think, good or bad! Also, is over 4k too much for you guys? I used to strive to hit that mark when I first started but the fandom’s changed so much, I feel like an old fart lmao

Tag List: @divinity-deos @thecaptainsgingersnap @wolfish-willow @scoopsohboi @herre-gud-nej @clockworkballerina @maddie1504 @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary @buckysarge @wildcvltre @stanleyyelnatsiii @unusuallchild @alwaysstressedout @linkispink1995 @asharpkniffe @a-big-ball-of-idk @mochminnie @used-avocado @sledgy14 @the-creative-lie

You didn’t hear from Steve after that, save for him returning your essay with minimal markings and a graded ‘A’ on the top. He’d gone back to his people as quickly as he’d left them, letting Vicki talk his ear off from across the aisle. You didn’t mind too much, her voice was grating on the ear, but her hair was pretty and she actually seemed to ask him questions. You didn’t know why it mattered to you that she seemed genuinely interested in Steve, but you decided that he deserved someone who cared enough to know him. Everyone deserved someone who cared enough to know them. Tina just talked about herself for the whole class when everyone was supposed to be discussing the book at hand, Wuthering Heights, and it got very annoying. You just filled out your discussion questions and did your best to be invisible. No one seemed to notice except for Mr. Lawrence, who’d scolded you twice now for not participating in group discussions.

“I know that you know this stuff, but I can’t give you participation points if you don’t participate with others.” He handed you back your discussion sheet for chapter four. You’d gotten everything right; Mr. Lawrence was lobbing low balls at the class to try to get them to read the book. You didn’t change your tune; you didn’t want to talk to your peers. It didn’t matter anyway, no matter what you said to them you’d still write down the same answers and get the same grade.

You didn’t hear much about your failings to participate after he handed back your first essays. You weren’t surprised that you’d gotten a low ‘A’ on the paper; you hadn’t tried that hard on it. You noted that he’d given you a good grade on your editing, which Mr. Lawrence noted on the page that he could count it for your participation for the class, since you did so well with it. You couldn’t complain because it was a decent way to pass.

When the bell rang, you made your usual break for it, excited to be on your free period and free to sit in the sun for the afternoon. Tracy Lords was in Samantha’s gym class and with the weather so lovely they’d do class outside, giving you a chance to work on front profiles with her flat, pretty features.

Steve was dreading getting his paper back. He didn’t trust himself to get a decent grade and even with your help he was certain he’d pull above a ‘D’. Mr. Lawrence always handed out pairs face down, so no one got their grades till they were ready to flip over the page. This was the moment that he always dreaded. He found that it was easiest to rip it off like a Band-Aid, just flip it and see so it can be over. He never read comments, he just needed to know if he failed, but the bright red writing on the top of the page caught his eye immediately-‘I’m impressed, Mr. Harrington’ with a 81 percent seeping through to the back of the page. He stared at the grade until the bell rang, unsure if it was even real, if he was even awake. Once he woke up from his beautiful dream, he knew he had one thing to do.

He burst in the hallway like a golden retriever out an open gate, searching for you without really knowing where to begin. He spotted you at your locker. “Y/N!” he called. You flinched, your shoulders hunching into your neck. You could feel people looking at you, which turned you beet red, almost purple, from embarrassment. You didn’t move from your space, hoping that the tile under you would pull back into a trap door and make you disappear from the scene. It didn’t, of course, and Steve found you quickly.

“Look at this!” he held up his paper to you, beaming like a child. You looked at the paper slowly, taking in the grade and the note at the top of the page, then his face.

“Oh…that’s great.” You said, unsure how to really respond. How was supposed to respond to someone else’s B?

Steve didn’t take in your uncertainty, continuing on “Thank you,” he said earnestly, lowering his voice to add “This is probably the best grade I’ve ever gotten in that class.”

“I’m glad I could help.” You couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in how you’d helped him out. Usually, the only people around that you could help was your grandparents with chores or Samantha with getting out of her house for an afternoon and while you enjoyed helping them out, you didn’t get the same joy from it, having done it for so long. Helping Steve made you feel full in a way.

Tommy Hanson had been trying to call the new kid, Billy, over to him when he saw the whole scene go down. And he didn’t like it. Not one bit. There was a hierarchy to Hawkins, rules to follow until you graduated and either solidified your choices or moved the hell out. Steve was popular, the home town hero, the sports star. That kind of power was not something to throw away on a little nobody. Tommy wished he could be that popular, to have that sort of accessibility and he got close when he kept his friends in the right station. Steve had already fucked up once, that little Nancy Wheeler bitch had already demoted him from sex god to weepy heartbroken sad boy, but that was still working for him. And he needed his backup plan to still be cool.

Tommy stalked up to Steve, throwing an arm over his shoulders. “Hey, dude, come over here, Stefanie Tomlinson’s panties are showing, you’ve gotta see this shit.” He whispered at him, loud enough to make you cringe and look away, turning back to your books and the stickers on your locker door.

“Dude, don’t be gross.” Steve said, turning his attention back to you “Like I said, thanks for the help.” Tommy kept trying to pull him away, but Steve was taller than him and harder to move around.

“Yeah, like I said, no biggie.” You kept your gaze firmly locked on your locker door. You refused to be mocked by Tommy Hanson. He practically pulled Steve away from you, looking you over with a sneer as they walked off. Tommy didn’t like you, which you already knew. It wasn’t easy for him to hide his hatred in a small town. You didn’t know why, but he’d always been like this, ever since you were kids. He used to push you into the mud and chase you off the swings in elementary school. Since you’d grown up, his cruelty had mostly subsided, but the animosity remained, especially after your mother had threatened his family with albeit an unrelated law suit, which succeeded in getting the whole family away from yours. That was the last helpful thing your mother had done for you.

Tommy kept his arm locked around his friend’s shoulders, escorting him away from potential social suicide. Steve held up his arms in defeat, laughing all the way. “Come on dude, she’s not anything to waste your time on.” Tommy said in a voice loud enough for you to hear, but quiet enough to seem like a whisper.

You shrunk in place, unable to pull your eyes away from the scene, a silent plea echoing in your mind for him to look back if he wasn’t a dick head like Tommy, left unspoken but felt in the depths of your soul. You didn’t know why it hurt you as badly as it had; you knew in your head that he no better than his friends. But your heart had hoped that he was different, that he could be better than him. You turned away before it hurt too badly, collecting your books in your arms and rushing off towards your spare period, hoping to find a bit of quiet to recover from what you’d just experienced.

Steve turned back to see you walking away, his laughter dying in his throat, what Tommy said bouncing around his mind. As soon as Tommy released him, he smacked the freckle faced boy hard in the ribs. “Can you try to not be a dick for five minutes?” he asked, getting a laugh out of Carol, who’d been filing her nails without much interest in the whole thing.

“What? Who gives a shit about her?” Tommy asked, doubling back with his hand on his chest.

“She’s a nice girl, dude, don’t be an asshole.” Steve replied sternly. That piqued Carol’s attention. She turned up from her chipped red nails to look Steve over with a discerning eye.

“Oh god, don’t tell me that you’re trying to bring in another Wheeler type chick into this.” She groaned, brushing away a strand of red hair from her cheek.

“Jesus Christ…” Steve rubbed the bridge of his nose “I don’t know what Nance did to you, but you need to calm down on that crap.”

“But you’re not dating her, right?” Tommy asked.

“Dude, all she did was help me with an assignment, that’s all.” Steve groaned. He felt like a dick, being so dismissive of you, he did like you, but he didn’t really even know you and neither did his friends. He didn’t like anyone assuming who he was or wasn’t with, and yet he still felt like a shithead. He didn’t know why but he did.

When you came home from school, your grandmother was waiting for you by the front door, red plaid kitchen rag draped on her shoulder, apron hanging low on her hips. “Your mother called when you were at school, wanted to see how you were.” She said, wiping her hands on the apron. She shook her head, obviously annoyed at the thought of her absent daughter.

“What’d you tell her?” you asked, kicking off your sneakers and putting them back onto the rack. You didn’t hide your distaste in your mother’s asking about you.

“That you were at school and to call back for you later. She told me to tell you that she’d be back in June and that she was bringing back someone special.” Your grandmother replied, turning back into the kitchen to return to whatever she was making. Your grandfather was passed out on the couch, his snores emanating from the living room almost comforting to you as you trekked up the stairs. You knew that your mother wouldn’t call again for you. She could never remember to call you at a time when you might be at home. She certainly wouldn’t be able to remember to call back.

Before you could even set your bag down, the phone on your desk blared from your desk. Samantha was at soccer practise, so you didn’t believe it was for you, but with your grandmother busy in the kitchen and your grandfather passed out, you grabbed the phone, asking “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Steve,” from his own room, Steve had thought about talking to you again for most of the day, but he’d only found the confidence what the day was over and he was home, where he didn’t have to look at you to speak to you. “I’m sorry if Tommy was weird to you today, he’s an idiot.”

You frowned, brow furrowing “It’s cool, no worries…” you replied. You didn’t feel like explaining how you already knew how much of an idiot he was.

“Yeah, so I was kind of wondering…if you’re not busy…would you mind maybe helping me with the readings? I don’t get this shit at all.” He chuckled awkwardly. In truth he’d had no plan to actually read the novel they’d been assigned, that’s what Cliff’s Notes was for, but he wanted to be around you more, so if homework was a reason to get to be around, then he’d actually read.

“Um…sure, I guess I could.” You didn’t really know what the right answer was for you. You weren’t sure that you trusted him, especially after what had happened that afternoon with Tommy, but your gut told you to say yes.

“Great! What’re you doing right now? Could you meet me somewhere, the reading for the tenth chapter is due tomorrow and I don’t even know what’s happening.” He felt a tad desperate, which was not a feeling he was used to around girls.

“I mean…where would you wanna meet?” anxiety was creeping up the back of your neck. You tried to wipe it away like sweat, but it was stuck to your brainstem.

“You could come over to my place or like I could meet you at the library or something.” Steve didn’t exactly have an answer to that one, he wasn’t even sure he’d get this far. He looked around his messy room, wondering if he’d made the right choice.

You didn’t exactly want to be in his house, but you didn’t have a car and it would take you forever to walk back into town to get to the public library. With a heavy heart, you accepted your unfortunate fate. “I could come over to your place.” You said, squeezing your eyes shut. You hoped that he wasn’t going to take that the wrong way.

“Yeah?” Steve hoped the panic wasn’t evident in his voice. His mother was still out of town and his father spent more time at his office in Carmel then he spent at home as it was. He’d let the mess pile up a bit and he didn’t want to look disgusting.

“Yeah, sure.” You tried to sound casual, but your blood had run cold and your hands had gone clammy. You gripped the receiver far too tightly, your eyes shifting around your room.

“Alright, cool, yeah cool…” Steve said, trying to sound casual “How long do you think it would take to get here?”

“I mean…you still drive the rust coloured BMW, right?” you asked, pulling your curtains back to peer out your window.

“Yeah?” Steve asked.

“I can see your house from my window, I’ll be there in like a minute.” You said.

Steve’s head turned upward, looking around worriedly. He bid his goodbyes quickly, turning his full attention to his messy bed and dirty floor, trying to get every pair of boxers laying on the floor into a basket. He hadn’t expected you to agree to come to his house, and his stomach churned at the idea of freaking you out. He didn’t want to scare you away because he was messy and gross.

You felt as if you’d swallowed your tongue. You rushed for the door, uttering a quick goodbye to your grandparents and pulling your backpack straps tight on your back. It was only five feet away. Five feet. Cross the street and up the driveway and you’re there. You took in a deep breath through your nose and took the first tripping step down your driveway, your body not co-operating with your mind and trying to escape where you were trying to bring it. You needed to calm down, your palms were starting to sweat and your knees had turned to Jell-O. You stopped in the middle of the empty street, huffing out another breath, trying to remind yourself that nothing could hurt you over there. That you could handle anything thrown at you.

Somehow, you made it to the front door without blacking out. You went to knock on the door, but it opened before you made contact. Steve looked frazzled, his hair flopping into his eyes, his expression panicked. “You’re here!” he said, his body blocking the doorframe.

“Am I not supposed to be?” you asked, your hand coming to clutch the top of your opposite arm.

“Nah, nah you are I just-never mind. I’m going crazy I think, come on in.” Steve stuttered, moving his arm out of the way, letting you inside. He didn’t know why he was nervous, he was never nervous to have a girl over. But you weren’t like the usual girls he would invite to hang out by his pool.

You stepped into his house cautiously, entering the dark space like it was a well-preserved colonial mansion. The Harrington household was cold. Everything was navy blue, steely grey, and white. He’d left the lights off in the entryway and the kitchen, although the lights above the grey brick fireplace were on, three white pot lights lighting the whole space. It made his house look ominous. Nobody was around either, you knew that Steve was an only child, but in your house your grandparents were always milling around; sound and voices were everywhere. Steve’s house was silent. The white vertical blinds were left open, and you could see the pool outside, which hadn’t been cleaned yet that day. The carpeting throughout the downstairs muffled your footsteps, adding to the eerie silence. Overall, the house looked expensive. They had all the latest technology and aesthetically the house was very stylish, it made you want to not touch anything in fear of breaking something. You shivered involuntarily, letting your eyes wander around the house, taking in the massive TV and the matching stereo. All his money didn’t make the space feel like home.

“My stuff’s just upstairs.” Steve pointed a thumb up the stairwell by the front door. You hadn’t realized that you’d wandered out of the foyer and into his house. You swallowed, nodding hard and bounding up the steps ahead of him. You noticed that there weren’t any photographs around the house. That felt a bit homier to you; your grandmother kept most of the photos in intricate albums, only keeping a singular family photograph on the mantle of the white tiled fireplace. That felt a bit right to you, that it really was a home and not a showcase home.

Steve’s bedroom was also blue and dark. His walls were dark blue plaid, with matching curtains. The colour was only broken up by a few posters and a floating bookshelf, which held a couple small trophies and a couple books held between black metal bookstands. His bedspread was a navy quilt, and his desk was dark wood and heavy looking. The signs of childhood were clear in the plaid wallpaper and curtains, clearly still remaining from a younger life. But beyond it, the room lacked a bit of personality. The only signs of life were the full laundry hamper and the papers on his desk. Everything else in the room could be in anyone’s room. It looked like a guest room or a hotel room. You dropped your bag on the grey carpeting, unsure where to put yourself in the space. Steve was much more casual, pulling out his desk chair and taking a seat, gesturing for you to sit across from him on the bed. You did so, sitting gingerly on the wrinkled bedspread. It was strange to sit on a boy’s bed, much less it be Steve Harrington’s bed.

“Alright, um…where to begin?” you asked, more to yourself than him. “I guess we should go over what happened in the chapter, yeah?”

“Yeah sure…” Steve replied, picking up his copy of the novel, flipping it open to the chapter. “Uh…so the main chick is in love with Heath and she loves him and they all live happily ever after?”

“That’s…not the plot of either this chapter or the novel.” You said slowly, not looking down to flip your own copy of the book to the marked chapter.

“I mean…that’s what I got from the Kate Bush song.” Steve muttered awkwardly.

“So, you haven’t read the book? Like nothing at all?” you asked. Steve shook his head. “Cliff’s Notes then?” you guessed, looking back to the shelf to see a few of the black and yellow striped covers of the versions of Little Women, Robinson Crusoe, and King Lear. You’d used the reference guides yourself, albeit not as a replacement for the novels themselves.

“You got me…” Steve muttered. He felt like an idiot. It had only taken a minute for him to get caught in his fib.

“Then what’d you need me for?” you replied, setting your book down on the bed next to you, looking him over carefully. Cliff’s Notes would cover everything he needed, they’d answer the questions for him.

“Look…I’m shit at this stuff. I don’t get it. I don’t get why we’re reading this, the book is so boring, even the notes are boring!” he groaned.

“The book is shit.” You replied, deadpan. “Mr. Lawrence is having us read it because it’s one of like three books the county mandates that we read and they gave us Robinson Crusoe last year.”

“What am I supposed to get from it then if he doesn’t even like it?” Steve chuckled, turning to address you fully.

“Well…it’s a tortured love story.” Steve raised an eyebrow at you. You pressed on “Catherine and Heathcliff are in love, but because Heathcliff’s of a lower station than her, they can never be together. And even though Catherine marries someone else she can’t bear life without him.”

“Aren’t they like siblings or something?” Steve’s lip curled upwards in a disgusted expression.

“Adopted siblings and if Emily Bronte doesn’t think it’s weird then we have to ignore it.” You explained with a shrug. You leaned back on your palms, kicking your feet casually. With the windows open, his room was warm and sunny. It faced the woods behind his side of the road, and they looked beautiful from up near the treetops. You’d heard the rumours of Jonathan Byers taking photos of little Nancy Wheeler on the same bed you sat on from the woods. It made you feel icky at the time and uncomfortable now. You didn’t like the idea that anyone could be watching you.

“Then what is Kate Bush singing about? She makes it sound like they get together.” Steve asked. He watched you with a careful eye, his nerves making it hard to even try to catch your eye. You seemed happy, calmer too, and your hair was catching the sunlight from his window, making a pretty crown of light around your head.

“I mean…Catherine dies trying to return to Heathcliff across the moors, Kate Bush is like being her ghost, trying to come back to her love from beyond the grave.” You said simply. Steve pulled out his notebook, the questions written out in wide, square letters. He quickly began scribbling down what you’d said. He pulled out his copy of the Cliff’s Notes and flipped to chapter ten, filling out the questions. You wondered if you should stay or go, but Steve’s profile was partially shaded by the angle he sat at, and the way his jaw jutted out made him look like the statue of David. You slowly pulled out your sketchbook and flipped to a new page. Graphite in hand, you slowly began drawing out his sharp, angular jaw and strong neck.

“So, when did you find the time to read the whole book?” he asked; only briefly looking up from his notes to look at you. Your hair was still pulled up in the bun you’d put it in that morning and your gaze was focused on whatever was behind that heavy looking spiral bound pad.

“It was on, like, the seventh grade summer reading list.” You replied, not looking up. You could feel his eyes on you and the copy of lips weren’t matching the real life counterpart. You pulled your lip between your teeth, using your thumb to blend out a thin line.

“You remembered all that from middle school?” Steve asked.

“Well…I mean the book is kind of weird. Like, it doesn’t make sense, the narrator keeps changing and the speaker isn’t always made known. It was really hard to read, but the story itself was pretty run of the mill. I don’t really get why we have to read it at all…” You explained quietly, switching to a piece of charcoal to add thin, textured lines to the lower lip.

“It’s really shit, eh?” Steve chuckled, turning his attention back to the thin book. “Who’s Isabella again?”

“It is crap. And Isabella’s Catherine’s sister-in-law. She has a crush on Heathcliff, you can write on that, that’s revealed in this chapter.” You explained. You didn’t blame Steve for not understanding the book, you absolutely hated the book when you read it the first time and it was by no means an easy read.

“She’s in love with him, but he’s in love with Catherine?” Steve was scribbling fast, writing down whatever you said.

“Yes and Catherine’s in love with Heathcliff but married Mr. Linton for status.” You replied. Steve and you worked in silence for awhile. Mr. Lawrence expected answers in full sentences and provide reasoning for everything you sourced. Meanwhile, you set a high standard for your art. While you didn’t expect perfection from yourself, you wanted to try to do good work, even just for yourself.

You’d never drawn Steve Harrington before. You’d done pictures of tons of your classmates, Steve just never seemed like someone who needed to be drawn. He had tons of people looking at him and praising him all the time, to his face and behind his back. He seemed like a little celebrity in Hawkins, but sitting on his head, with the sun hitting half of his face and making pretty shadows in the hollows of his face, you saw the small beauty in his features. You knew that he was attractive, that was a universal truth, but now sat on his bed alone in his room, you understood that he really was beautiful. Maybe not on the inside, you didn’t know if he was a truly good person, but on the outside he was golden. Your hands demanded to recreate his features. You felt as though you were carving one of Greek gods of Hawkins high, the best of the town’s beauty.

Steve finished his work soon after and looked to you with a lopsided grin. “I say, and you can totally disagree, that we work better together than apart.” He said triumphantly, jabbing the cap onto his pen.

You looked up with a smirk from your drawing. It was nearly done and you weren’t mad at the work either. It certainly looked like Steve and the shadows were intriguing. It would’ve made a better painting, but the little sketch was nothing to sneeze at. “I mean, you certainly do.” You replied easily. Steve chuckled, you weren’t wrong; he knew that you were much smarter than him.

“But sure, if you need the help then I’ll help. No big deal.” The words left your mouth before you’d thought them through. But they were true. Despite not knowing him, despite being freaked out by every phone call and conversation, you found yourself still coming back. Your mind was pulled in two very different directions, between adrenaline laced panic that made your hands go clammy and shake and genuine curiosity and intrigue.

Steve couldn’t hide the surprise on his face. He was certain that you’d already on the porch steps, running towards your house as fast as you could. Something in his gut told him not to expect anything. But you agreed. He broke into a lopsided grin, brushing a piece of long brown hair out of his eyes. “Cool, yeah, that’d be great! So, I’ll call you?” he asked tentatively, trying to still give you an out to his own request.

“You already know the number.” You smirked, a yellow sticky note catching your eye. You could see your name and number written in Steve’s wide handwriting stuck to the wall in front of his desk. It made you smile, the small detail of him even looking you up made you laugh. You’d been across the street from him your whole life, but him trying to find you made you strangely happy. You gathered up your things quickly, heading back across the street as another car came into his driveway, an immaculately made up woman in the front seat. She didn’t look you in the face as you passed, focusing on the opening garage door in front of her. You made a mad dash for your house. Everything felt…calm. Strangely calm. You didn’t know if you liked it.

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softbiker · 4 years ago

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Steve Rogers Oneshot

Warnings: talk about body image/dysmorphia, past ED’s, veganism (idk if that’s a warning???)

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: This is...very self-indulgent. But oh well. A continuation of the Agent 14 series, in which Steve finds another diet he wants to try and he needs some help getting started. As always, let me know what you think!

Sam finds him one afternoon, staring into the glow of the open fridge, in full superhero stance with his feet planted wide. Nothing abnormal about super soldiers looking for a snack; those boys can really put it away. But this one looks like he’s conducting an interview with the refrigerator contents - in his hand is a small notepad, a worn down pencil stub poised over it, and Sam can see little scribbles and tally marks covering the page.

“Uh…Steve?”

“Hm?” Steve doesn’t turn around, but Sam can see his deep-set frown in profile, harsh refrigerator light illuminating his lowered brows.

“What’re you doing, man?” Sam takes a couple steps closer and peers around those massive shoulders into the offending appliance. “That your grocery list?”

Steve finally looks up, blinking. Absently, he taps the end of his pencil against his chin.

“No, not a grocery list,” he frowns. “I’m just…taking stock, I guess.”

“We do inventory of the fridge now?” Sam sidesteps him, reaching for the orange juice. He still drinks straight from the carton and Barnes can just kiss his sweet ass.

Steve ignores him, sparing only an eye roll in response.

“Don’t worry about it,” he sighs, in a way only Steve Rogers can sigh about groceries. “Just got an idea, that’s all.”

Sam sips his orange juice as he watches him leave the room, more worried by that phrase than anything else Steve could’ve said.

**********

“I’m sorry - you want us to what?”

Steve crosses his arms and gives Clint his most authoritative frown.

“I’d like us to try a plant-based diet,” he repeats, looking at the faces scattered around the common room. This little “family meeting” didn’t warrant using the conference rooms on the upper floors; he had let everyone get cozy after dinner, helped dig through the couch cushions for the remote, and then made his little announcement.

“That means vegan, right?” Natasha says from her armchair, eyes on her phone in her lap. She’d started googling as soon as he proposed this little challenge.

“Woah, woah - hold up,” Sam raises a hand, sitting forward on the couch. “I know you’re not asking me to quit eating meat, Rogers.”

“And dairy,” Steve confirms.

“Eggs, too,” Wanda adds helpfully.

“No meat?” 41’s fingers curl into her baggy bacon-print PJ pants. Her lower lip wobbles. “No-no ice cream?” She looks to Clint, who immediately folds his hand over hers.

“There are plenty of plant-based alternatives-” Steve starts, his tone soothing.

“Is this because of that documentary you watched?” Bucky grumbles. He’s leaning on the back of the couch, eyes narrowed at his long-time friend. “What was the name…the one about the athletes who don’t eat meat…”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Steve glares back at him. “There’s plenty of evidence to suggest it gives them an edge in athletic performance, so why not-”

“Oh my god, Steve, we’re literally a team of superheroes,” Sam groans. “Earth’s mightiest heroes, and all that jazz. We’re already mighty! We don’t need this! I don’t need this!”

“That so?” Steve raises an eyebrow. One hand digging into his pocket, he produces the little notebook he was scribbling in a couple days before. “I’ve been making some notes-”

“Oh boy, here we go,” Clint mutters.

“In our fridge, the percentage of animal products is a little over 60% - that’s crazy high, guys.” Steve licks his lips, glancing at the skeptical faces around the room as he flips a page in his notebook. “Not only that, but as a whole, our consumption of takeout and highly processed foods has really gone up lately; the team ate a total of 23 meals from fast food restaurants in the last 2 weeks.”

“You’re monitoring our food, Rogers?” Natasha is looking at him now, though he almost wishes she weren’t. Her undivided attention is not for the faint of heart. Steve musters himself and pushes ahead.

“Look - let’s just try it, give it our best shot and then, in a month-”

“A month?” 41 cries, clutching Clint’s hand. “A whole month? But…but what about Bite?”

Oh. He’d forgotten. Sam and 41’s cherished food festival, held every July - a whole park full of food trucks, unlimited samples, live music. One of their photos from last year’s Bite was proudly displayed on the door of the fridge: 41 and Sam each chowing down on a massive bacon cheeseburger - a cheeseburger with Krispy Kreme donuts as the buns.

“Well…” he hesitates

“No. Uh-uh. No way.” Sam folds his arms across his chest and sinks back into the couch cushions. “There is no way you’re making us miss the best event of the year for another one of your health kicks.”

“Sam-”

“Besides! You and Tin Man can eat as much pizza as you want and still outrun a car,” Sam huffs. “No reason to make the rest of us suffer through another one of your diets. Not to mention that I’m not interested in just eating salad and broccoli…that’s depressing.”

Shoulders falling, Steve sighs and drops his notebook in his lap.

“Okay, well. Sam has spoken,” he says, quirking an eyebrow. “Anyone else?”

“Mm, I’m with Sam on this one,” Bucky shrugs, unbothered by Steve’s answering look of betrayal. “Sorry, pal, I guess I just don’t see the point…and besides, we had to go hungry for half our childhood. I’m not gonna live on rations now.”

Steve folds his hands in his lap, staring down at his knuckles with what looks for all the world like a pout. Maybe he should’ve made the team watch the documentary first…that would’ve gotten them excited. Hell, even he was inspired - after all, if a non-enhanced guy could train to carry over a thousand pounds, surely there was some kind of benefit to this lifestyle.

“Alright, how about this,” he pulls his last card, his last idea. “If I can make a meal that will convince you vegan food is actually good, would you agree to try it for a little while?”

Sam and 41 turn towards each other; he raises an eyebrow, she responds with a shrug.

“We can accept these terms,” Sam agrees. “But you’re really gonna have to wow us.”

“Yeah,” 41 nods, settling in next to Clint. “Bring out the big guns.”

From his place behind the couch, Bucky’s shoulders quake with silent laughter.

“You really played yourself on this one, pal,” he chuckles, shaking his head. Reaching across the cushions, he gives 41 a comforting pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, squirt. Your ice cream isn’t going anywhere - I’ve known Steve for a long, long time…” He smirks at a now exasperated Steve.

“…and Steve Rogers can’t cook for shit.”

**********

Steve Rogers, in fact, cannot cook for shit. But he’ll be damned if that will stop him from trying.

He’s swiping through recipes and grocery lists on his Stark pad, wondering if baking his own bread would be as easy as it seemed, when the text comes through.

Hey soldier. I heard you were going on a diet. That true?

Steve snorts and chews his lip, thumbs hovering as he thinks over his reply.

Yeah, it’s about time I got in better shape.

Feeling a bit silly, he watches the little dots in the text bubble as she types back a reply, and tries not to feel too pleased with himself at the cluster of laughing emojis she sent.

Well, listen. I’ve been vegan for a while, actually, so if you need any help I’m here!

An eager leap in his heart, and his thumbs fly over the keyboard once more.

Oh, really? In that case…I’m not sure if I can really handle cooking by myself. I have a terrible track record in the kitchen.

Another laughing emoji. They didn’t teach you that in the army?

Shockingly no.

Someone (Wanda? Peter?) may have told him something about double texting, but he can’t help himself as he quickly follows up his text with another.

Anyways, I’m desperate. And the team is desperate for me to not burn down the tower, haha. Can you help a guy out?

Waiting for a reply, his knee bounces under his desk and he clicks the pen in his hand over and over, hardly hearing the annoying little noise as his thumb reflexively twitches on the button. When her response buzzes on his screen, he almost flinches.

Tell you what. Today is my day off, and I needed groceries anyway. Trader Joe’s in an hour?

**********

“What on earth are those?” Steve stares incredulously at the basket. “And why are they…not orange?”

“They’re called Hawaiian sweet potatoes and they just grow that way,” 14 laughs as she reaches for a display of squash next to the potatoes.

“That’s not a sweet potato - I know what a sweet potato looks like,” Steve says, obstinate brows crowding together. Shaking her head, 14 just turns away from the squash towards the avocados on the opposite side of the produce aisle.

“Oh boy, you’re gonna learn a lot being vegan…” she sighs. She squeezes a couple of avocados, testing ripeness and feeling the size before she chooses two and adds them to one of her produce bags. With a satisfied nod, she settles her hands on her hips. “Okay, next on the list: tahini.”

Looking at the cart, Steve can’t tell what his dinner is going to be.

“Tahini? What are we gonna do with that?” He wonders what it is, too, but doesn’t ask.

“Eat it, Rogers.” Smirking over her shoulder, she grabs the front of the cart and pulls him along towards the condiments aisle. “What on earth would you do without me?”

“Die a carnivore, I guess,” he shrugs.

“Hm. Tragic.”

**********

“It’s practically foolproof - all you have to do is cook this, roast the sweet potatoes, and then we’re gonna throw it all in together.”

“Never underestimate my ability to totally ruin a meal.” Steve says, stirring the quinoa. An adorable scrunch wrinkles his nose as he turns to where she’s dicing the avocados. “Ask Bucky. Even army rations taste better than my cooking.”

“You must be very confident in yourself to admit that,” she smiles back. Cheeks warm, he turns back to the pan with a shrug.

Silence stretches between them for a few moments, the quiet of shared work - from the other room, they can hear the TV playing, occasional laughs from Sam and 41 as they catch up on episodes of Brooklyn 99. Outside the windows, the summer sun sinks steadily lower, golden hour glow illuminating the skyline and filtering into the kitchen. She’s barefooted, chipped blue polish on her toes, and her feet pad lightly across the tile floor as she moves her bowl of avocado chunks over to the island. The little sound makes his heart hungry.

“So,” he clears his throat. “How long have you been, uh, plant-based?”

“Hmm. I guess about 6 months or so?” She taps her fingers absently against the marble countertop as she thinks. “Yeah, that sounds right.”

“Wow. Why did you start?”

“Someone dared me,” she winks at him. “No, but really. A friend challenged me to do it with her for a month…and then I realized I felt great and didn’t miss the animal products so much.” She shrugs. “I had more energy, I felt stronger, my skin looked amazing - trust me, after a week, you’ll practically be glowing.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder with a melodramatic flair, rolling her eyes to the ceiling, a playful smile dimpling her cheeks.

He laughs with her, shaking his head. “Oh, thank god. My skin is a nightmare.” His sarcasm sparks her laugh again, and it inflates his chest even more. He feels light, easy, weightless as the dust motes floating through a sunbeam between them.

Her giggles die down when her phone timer buzzes, signaling her to check the roasting potatoes in the oven. Sidestepping him, she leans down carefully in front of the open door, waves of heat assaulting them both as she pokes and prods the vegetables with a spatula. “Perfect,” she closes the oven door with a satisfied nod. “Just a few more minutes. And it looks like that’s almost done, too.” She gestures to his pan and hands him a lid to cover it. “You can go ahead and turn the burner off - the water has cooked out, so we’ll just need to let it sit.”

With the rest of their ingredients prepped and waiting in a neat row on the island, they slide onto a pair of barstools as 14 sets another short timer on her phone. Steve takes a sip from his beer, leaning an elbow on the counter as he turns to face her.

“Have you always liked to cook?” he asks. In his mind, there are a million questions - they roll over each other, constantly trying to push their way out of his mouth, his overwhelming curiosity wishing he could crack open her shell through sheer force of will. Instead, he drums his fingers against the counter, picks at the label on his beer bottle, scratches his beard, and waits for her to speak.

“Oh, no, not at all,” she laughs at the question. She’s not facing him, but she smiles, fingers lightly tracing the stem of her wine glass. “Actually I used to hate it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Surprised?”

Steve is surprised - her kitchen confidence certainly impressed him. Not once has she consulted a recipe, or googled how long to roast potatoes in the oven, how to make lemon tahini sauce. Things that would’ve left him completely stumped and likely going hungry.

“A little. You really seem to know your way around a kitchen, that’s all.”

“Well…” she takes a deep breath, and he can see the shape of it forming in her mind: whatever it is she’s about to tell him, whatever she’s preparing to say - it matters. With a fortifying gulp of wine, she knots her fingers together and forges ahead. “I used to have a lot of…um, body image issues, you know? Super critical of myself, low self esteem…it got pretty bad for a while.” She doesn’t elaborate, because he doesn’t need to know and how could she even begin to tell it? Too many cups of coffee and too few meals, the feeling of a toothbrush in the back of her throat. It hurts her now, the memory of that girl who thought that making herself less would somehow make her enough. She reaches for the wine again. Steve stays quiet, his eyes watchful and soft. It hurts him, too.

“Yeah?” he murmurs.

“Yeah.” Glancing at him, she licks her bottom lip, before turning her eyes back down to her hands. “Anyway - cooking helped me learn how to actually take care of myself.” A half-hearted little shrug, a self-conscious smile. “That’s really all there is to it.”

He nods, holding her gaze, his eyes flicking back and forth between her own. Her shoulders curl where she sits a little hunched at the stool, bare feet tucked up on a bar that ran between the legs of the stool, one knee bouncing rapidly. A minute ticks by, then two, the kitchen gone quiet and warm, hazy with the smell of a good meal.

“You know, a long time ago, before I was…this-” He gestures to himself, his big shoulders and tree trunk thighs, the massive everything of him. “- before the serum, well, I’m sure you’ve seen the pictures. Or a documentary,” he smirks, a little rueful. “I was less than half the size I am now - short, skinny, no matter how much I ate my ribs stuck out. Buck used to try to help me train, doing pushups or learning how to box, but I was still so weak. A strong breeze could’ve knocked me over, probably - plus, I had asthma, and I was always getting sick with one thing or another…honestly, it’s a miracle I didn’t die before the army got me.”

It coaxes a mirroring smile from her, one elbow propped on the island. She shuffles on top of the stool, turning to face him fully.

“I thought…I don’t know, I thought I’d feel…different. Better, once I was stronger.” He shakes his head, chuckling at himself. “But it was more like…I was just in the wrong body. I kept bumping into things, hitting my head on doorframes; I took up more space than I thought I should.” Letting go of his beer, he spreads his hands in front of him, turning them over alternately and staring at the broad palms, the strong fingers, crisscrossed with veins and scars. “Drove myself crazy trying to sketch. I kept breaking my charcoal, snapping pencils…it was like trying to draw with another person’s hands.”

“Did you get used to it?” she asks. The hand not occupied with her wine glass reaches out to gently take hold of his wrist. A delicate thumb drags across his pulse, and she looks down at the lines of his palms, still uncalloused and pink. Her hand cradles his large one as she brings her eyes up to his own.

“More or less,” he shrugs. “Sometimes I still pass a mirror and do a double take.” More often than he would admit, in fact. He thinks of all the mornings he comes home from a brutal run - double marathons, barely sweating - and sees himself getting into his shower, a god he doesn’t recognize staring back at him.

She nods. She understands.

“Taking care of yourself helps. I think - it never quite goes away, but…” her smile is sweet. Hopeful. “The little things. They help.”

Turning his wrist, he grasps her hand with his own. Her skin is soft and warm; smaller fingers slide between his thick ones. Once, a long time ago, their hands would have been the same size.

Just as he opens his mouth to speak, her phone buzzes, vibrating against the counter and startling them both. As she withdraws her hand, she grins up at him.

“You hungry, Rogers?”

“Starving.”

**********

They take their bowls into the living room, joining Sam and 41 on the couch. Steve does his best with the chopsticks at first, but he still hasn’t gotten used to it. In the name of efficiency, he switches to a fork so that he can shovel the food into his mouth faster.

“Woah - what is that?” Sam leans over to get a better look. He sniffs the air. “Damn, it smells amazing.”

“It’s called a Buddha bowl,” 14 says, politely covering her mouth to conceal the sweet potatoes she’s still chewing. With her fork, she strategically arranges the next bite, collecting a little bit of everything: quinoa, potatoes, tahini sauce, avocado, greens. “Because it’s pure bliss,” she adds, before neatly shoving the next forkful into her mouth.

Steve hums in agreement, his own cheeks stuffed full. His bowl is half empty already. Peaking around 14’s shoulder, Agent 41 licks her lips and makes eye contact with Sam.

“I mean…maybe, we could try making some?” she shrugs her shoulders. “With a little Yum Yum sauce, too, I bet that would be good…” Sam is already nodding in agreement, pulling out his phone to look up a recipe.

“Don’t worry,” 14 smiles, patting her friend’s thigh. “I made plenty for everyone.”

As the other two scramble up from the couch and into the kitchen, she catches Steve’s eye and winks.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x agent 14 #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers x reader fic

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jordluna · 4 years ago

Text

You Meet Steve Rogers (Natasha x daughter!reader)

Summary: On a mission to rescue hostages, you end up meeting Captain America along the way. The daughter reader is 15. Since reader is in her teenage years she's pretty sassy and her and Nat have a kinda bitchy relationship but it's still sweet though.

"I have a mission with Steve to go on. I should be back in the morning so stay home, and don't do anything reckless while I'm gone." Natasha says while loading up guns on her cat suit as you sit on the couch of your apartment and binge the 100 on the T.V.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll stay here." You say while shoving a load full of popcorn in your mouth. You want her to leave badly so you can go onto the next season before the next day.

"Stay here and don't stay up late." She says firmly as you turn your back to face her to say one last remark.

"No mom, I'll go to the popular girl's party, get drunk, and hook up with the hottest dude I see." She rolls her eyes as she leaves the apartment, while you snicker to herself.

Just as your about to get up to make some more popcorn your phone rings from your hoodie. You pull it out,hoping one of your friends wants to chat with you so you won't be bored all night. Instead you see Director Fury's name on the screen.

You groan, as you swipe to answer it, knowing never to not answer Fury's calls.

"Was-sup Fury." You say while shutting off the T.V.

"Agent Romanoff, it's great to here from you again. Since you haven't showed up to Shield the past two weeks." Fury says not even trying to hid the annoyance in his voice.

"Two weeks already? Well I've been very busy with school work and all." You lie, as for the real reason you haven't shown up is because you were to busy binging The 100."Romanoff I think you must have forgotten you're on Spring break." You wince as you have totally forgotten.

"Shit." You mutter under your breathe. "Shit, indeed." Fury says back after a little bit of silence.

"So why'd you call me exactly?" You ask. "I need you as back up on your mother's and Steve's mission." He then explains their mission to you.

"So what do I have to do?" You ask annoyed that your all nighter is ruined, due to saving lives. "You, my least favorite Romanoff, have to collect Shield's intel on the ship. You can also kick some ass if needed." You sigh while putting on your cat suit and loading your weapons.

"Will do pirate dude." You say while leaving the apartment. "Also I'm so flattered to be your least favorite Romanoff."

"A car should be in the front of your house to escort you to the quinjet. You can jump off shortly after Natasha and Steve are already inside the ship."

"Sounds easy enough."

"Don't disappoint me y/n." You just sigh and end the call. You let your red hair down from the messy bun it was already in. Well time to do the dirty work.

*****

As you hide in the back of the ship you do what Fury instructed and waited for everyone to get off before you leave. Once you jump off you immediately start making your way to the to the control room to grab the data and go, hoping maybe just maybe you can finish one last episode before your mom comes home. Men immediately start running at you but you take out your dagger and slide towards them on your knees, slicing their thighs.

As they knell to the floor you stab them in the chest and make a break for the room. You think about using your guns tonight off the men in front of you but you know that's more of Natasha's thing than yours. Plus the guns would be to loud and you don't want to bump into anyone you know on the mission.

So instead you just do the simple hand to hand combat and leave without a single bruising or scratch as usual while the guys are wailing in pain on the ground.

"Sorry about that, but to be fair you did ruin my movie night." You say with a sinister smile.

*****

Steve moves around the ship looking for the rest of the hostages when he sees pirates injured on the ground. He immediately thinks it's Natasha since there is no there person that can fight without some sort of weapon as good as her. Let alone lave five men unconscious on the ground. As he walks closer he sees two more injured guys on the ground with what appear to be stab wounds.

"Nat, I didn't know you had an interest in knives." Steve says into his ear piece. Natasha is confused by his statement wondering what he is talking about. It then hits her. You were here.

"I'm not." She simply says as Steve is now also more confused.

*****

As you enter the control room you immediately put the hard drive in and start collecting whatever you can. Just then something comes crashing through the door with some unconscious guy underneath him.

"Hey Rogers." You say with a small smirk on your face, recognizing the man as Captain America.

"Who are you and what are you doing?" He says sternly as he pushes you back into the wall, harshly, putting his shield up to your collar bone so you couldn't escape. However you showed no fear in your eyes as you weren't even scared, just irritated that you're still in this room.

"Damn, is this how people introduced themselves in the forties? I'm here on Director Fury's orders."

"To collect Shield intel?"

"Why are you asking if you obviously already know." You say.

"Who are you?" He says firmly looking for an answer.

"Name's y/n. I would ask for your name but I already know because of the whole being a popsicle in a freezer for 97 years."

"You knocked all those guards out there?" He says looking down at the bloody knife in your holster. You just nod quickly hoping to get out of here before your mother finds you and grounds you for life.

"Why would Fury send a 14 year old girl out here?" Ok, now your annoyed with the interrogation.

"I'm 15 Cap. Get your facts strait before spitting them out." He most likely annoyed to as he's pushing you a little more further against the wall. Just as your about to grab the knife and stab him the thigh a familiar voice fills the room.

"Let her go Steve." Natasha says as he releases the pressure on your collar bone. As he moves out of the way you see the one person you've been planning on avoiding this entire mission. Natasha gives you the deadliest glare you've ever seen her give you. You tense for a second but let your muscles relax knowing this isn't the time to be a wimp.

"Hey-" She immediately cuts you off."Я сказал тебе оставаться дома." She's yelling to you in Russian, that's not good. (I told you to stay home.)

"Я знаю, но Фьюри сказал, что тебе нужна помощь.There for here I am." You say trying to reason with her as Steve just watches you guys very confused. (I know, but Fury said you needed back up.) She takes the hard drive out and throws it to you. You catch it and immediately put it in your pocket."Фьюри твоя мать? Нет, я." (Is Fury your mother? No, I am.) You sigh in defeat.

"Can I say something?" Steve says loudly.

"Shut it star spangled capris." You say as he is clearly taken aback. All of a sudden a grenade is thrown at you by the unconscious guy but Steve uses his shield to knock it away. He grabs the you and your mother and crash into a window. Smoke fills the air as you chuckle slightly at the look on Steve's face when you mocked him. However Steve and Natasha just look at you weirdly and your face goes back to its stern expression.

******

You, Natasha, and Steve stand in front Fury's desk in Shield's headquarters. As he stares at you three without saying anything you try to avoid eye contact and just tap the floor with your boot.

"Why would you send a child out on our mission without telling me?" Steve says interrupting the silence.

"Cap did you see the results of putting her on the field? Her mission was to collect Shield intel, and she did it with even getting a few of our foes hurt." Fury responds with and you look at your mother and see a smirk on her face, which makes you feel even more accomplished.

"People could have gotten killed and hurt." Steve says.

"I believe Fury sent the best assassins and super soldier to make sure that didn't happen." Natasha says as you nod your head agreeing.

"The kid could have gotten hurt!"

"Agent y/n Romanoff, is one of the best junior agents, Shield has ever seen. She doesn't get hurt easily." You see the shocked look on Steve's face, mixed with confusion. You, Fury, and Natasha try your best not to laugh as Steve's mouth is practically wide open.

"You better close your mouth before a fly goes in." You say as Steve moves his head looking at you, then Natasha, then back at you. He slowly starts to notice how similar you two are.

"Oh, yeah. I have a daughter." Natasha says as if she just accidentally forgot to mention it before.

"Oh hell no. I'm dreaming." Steve says raising his arms up and starts to leave the room.

"I can assure you that I'm very much real." You say laughing.

I enjoyed making this one a lot. I also just love writing sassy y/n. Sorry if Russian is wrong I'm so sorry I just used google translate. Also I might move to tumblr idk. Next story will be You're okay!

#Avengers family Natasha Romanoff x daughter!reader natasha Romanoff Black Widow x daughter

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disasterinadress97 · 4 years ago

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Dallas Winston Headcannons nobody asked for 🤷🏻‍♀️

Trigger warning ⚠️

A bit of nsfw in there too

Pre Tulsa, life in New York

• His mom was a drug addict and had Bipolar 1 disorder

• He has/had 4 siblings, an older brother (six years older) from his moms previous relationship, older sister (five years older) from his dads past relationship, a twin brother (who was trans ftm) and a little sister (eight years younger than him)

• He was always the one to take care of his mom during her depressive episodes when she wouldn’t leave her bed.

• She often left days-weeks at a time when she was in a manic state

• He practically raises his baby sister, she died when she was four due to cancer

• That was when he decided he hates kids cause they always reminded him of her

• he was always stealing and dealing to get his twin brother anything to help his body dismorphia and feel more comfortable in his body

• His mom often sold his body and his brother’s to her drug dealer when they couldn’t afford drugs (his dad did not know this at the time)

• his dad was actually a good dad till their mom walked out on them when he was 9, that was when he started drinking and abused Dallas because ‘you fuckin look so much like her’

• He was apart of two gangs in New York, one of which was a Drag Queen gang

• The one Queen lived beside him and always heard fighting, she took him under her wing and after his mom left they were practically the ones who raised him and his little sister

• the two older siblings and his twin left a little while after their mom did, that was when he learned you can’t trust anyone

• you bet your ass this boy dressed in drag with his queens, a master with make up, can’t change my mind

• can walk in high heels/‘stripper shoes’ like no other!

• started selling his body to strangers for money after his mom left and his dad started drinking to afford to feed his sister and himself

• His other gang was a bunch of stereotypical big mean, manly gang members

• He started dating a guy from said gang, this guy was hella abusive, controlling and manipulative. Also was twice Dal’s age

• when Dallas left New York he broke up with him and the guy beat the shit out of him and burned him with a poker ‘so you’ll never forget me’

In Tulsa/present?

• has some severe PTSD, also suffers from abandonment issues, anxiety, depression and Bipolar 2 disorder

• Loves him some Rupauls drag race, reminds him of his Queens and how much he misses them

• Acts so tough and mean because In New York he was tough and knew it but was always seen as the ‘little kid’ so going to Tulsa that wasn’t gonna happen again

• first people he came out to about being bi was Mr and Mrs Curtis

• they also found out he was selling his body for rent/food money and that was when they realised how much they care about him

• him and Mrs. Curtis were super close, she was the closest thing he had to a real mom.

• He is actually so soft behind the tough guy act

• cuddles? All the time

• is a total brat sub/bottom don’t @ me

• the gang found out about his Drag Queen past when he accidentally sent pony the wrong photo from his phone ‘you tell them you die!’

• he obviously blabbed

• everyone was shook.

• Johnny was amazed because ‘he’s so tough but so pretty!’

• two bit laughed but lowkey was impressed with Dallys confidence to do that

• Steve was just ‘if it makes him nicer and happier than whateva’

• you already know soda begged him to do his make up let’s ge honest

• Darrel was quiet but was also a good dad and was like ‘as long as it keeps him out of jail we will always love him’

• he was touched but also super embarrassed the gang found out about it, but was thankful they were cool with it

• gang 100% harassed him to wear drag for them Atleast once

• one day dallas brought his make up and shoes over, he did his and soda’s make up and wore his shoes and the gang was shook! ‘How can you walk in those?! So easily??’ ‘He looks prettier than half the girls at school!’

• all the support from the gang!

• Dallas actually reads a lot like pony does but doesn’t talk about it incase he gets made fun of for the books he likes

• is also really smart but plays dumb

• this boy LOVES vampires, they’re his guilty pleasure. We talking the vampire chronicles, the vampire diaries, true blood, he even liked the twilight books but will never tell a soul!

Dating headcanons!

General:

• cuddles all the time

• is very insecure and gets jealous easy

• surprisingly isn’t violent or aggressive when jealous, he’s scared if he is they will leave

• plot twist! Sylvia was actually a beard so Soc’s and other gangs wouldn’t know he’s bi

• they only said she cheated cause she was caught with another dude. The hate and hurt was all an act

• is a brat so will tease his dom in public subtly but so much

• is super clingy

• wants to be together all the time

• always needs reassurance ‘are you sure you’re still happy? Like I didn’t do anything wrong?’ ‘No, babe I love you’. ‘Oh okay, are you sure tho?’ 24/7

Johnny

• always getting Johnny to stay at bucks or his dads when his dad isn’t home so Johnny is safe

• feeding this boy all the time!

• when he hears dal is a bottom Johnny is shook but surpringly into a ‘daddy’ role

• drive in dates whenever they can

• they watch the stars a lot

• when Dallas is super anxious he picks at his nails a lot and Johnny holds his hands to help him feel a bit at ease

• when Dallas is in a manic state Johnny follows him anywhere he goes. Parties, fights, anything. He just wants to make sure he doesn’t get jailed again or hurt

• Johnny highkey loves when Dallas dresses in drag ‘you’re just so confident and hot!’

Steve

• watches while Steve works on his cars, he likes seeing Steve so interested and content

• when either of them fight with their dads they drive around all night and talk. They are both quiet about feelings usually but wanna be there for each other

• hangs around the DX while Steve and soda work

• both don’t say a lot normally but are always touching each other

• when Dallas is in a depressive episode Steve will come to bucks and just lay with him for hours

• They talk about both their moms walking out on them sometimes. They both swear if they ever met these women there would be hell to pay ‘how could she abandon this beautiful person?’

Soda

• all the spooning you could ask for

• Dallas is always complimenting him. ‘You’re so pretty wtf’

• on the anniversary of sodas parents death Dallas buys him flowers and they go to their graves

• when Dallas doesn’t answer his phone Soda highkey panics ‘what if he’s hurt?! What if he’s in jail ahain?’

• Dallas always feels bad about this and tries to make it up to him

• soda is always reminding Dallas he’s not alone and he loves him

• when soda really misses his mom Dallas and him talk about some of their favourite memories with her. Soda is still sad but it makes him a little happier knowing how much she cared about him and the one he loves so much

Two bit

• jokes 24/7

• when the gang isn’t around Dallas only calls him Keith or babe

• two doesn’t usually like his name but when Dallas says it he hates it a little less every time

• two bits mom wasn’t a fan of Dallas at first but after a while and gets to know him she loves him so much ‘mom I’m home’ ‘where is dallas’ ‘idk’ ‘tell him to come over I’m making his favourite dish’

• when two bit gets jealous or feels Dallas is he always puts his arm around his waist or kissing him so the person gets the hint

• twos little sister looks up to their relationship a lot and loves how happy her brother is

• two doesn’t stop drinking but slows down on it when Dallas mentions once it worries him sometimes

• Dallas and twos little sister get close really fast. Dallas is always giving her advice and one day brings her some old make up of his and she loves it!

• two doesn’t understand why dallas seems a little sad after times like these until one day dallas tells him about his little sister and how two should spend more time with her, ‘just in case something happens. I don’t want you to regret anything like I do’

• two makes a point to spend more time together the three of them after that

Pony

• they read together sometimes

• Dallas will go to literally any movie if pony is interested

• picks pony up from school everyday

• if Dallas gets arrested you know pony is lecturing him for Atleast a half hour. Dallas just sits there with heart eyes because ‘damn I missed this pain in my ass’

• dates at the Dingo are their Friday night ritual

• they both have terrible nightmares and are always cuddling and comforting eachother after

• Dallas is always saying little things to pony about his relationship with Darrel ‘I know he’s on your case all the time but it’s cause he means well’. Dallas then tells pony about his brothers and sister and how he wishes he could live with them and see them like pony can with Darrel

• pony and dar still fight sometimes after this but never in front of Dallas

Darrel

• they don’t go out a lot for dates but like to watch their favourite shows together (they kick the gang out for a few hours on these nights)

• Darrel brings out the brat in Dallas 24/7 and he teases him all the time until Darrel gets to a point he just looks at him and with a deep voice ‘bedroom now’ and Dallas practically trips over his own feet running to the room

• they are not quiet either! The gang sees them go in Dar’s room and they all groan and leave ASAP

• the gang found out about them when the gang came over and heard Dallas call out ‘daddy!’ And never let him live it down ‘how’s it going daddy’s boy’ ‘I will literally kill you two bitch’

• Darrel never celebrates his birthday after his parents die and Dallas puts an end to that so fast. He goes all out, flowers, presents, sexy time. Anything he can do

• always sitting on Darrel’s lap, clinging to him, hugging. All of it. He’s just amazed and thankful he has such a strong and beautiful bf who loves him

• dar once let dallas do make up on him and Darrel borderline didn’t like how good he looked in it

• Dallas got him to experiment in drag and Darrel felt hella empowered. Now they dress up together sometimes. But dar says only Dallas is allowed to see him like that

• this makes dal feel extra special and close to dar and he loves it

Tim

• sarcastism never stops

• Tim is quiet but really protective, he can say whatever he wants about Dallas but once someone says one bad thing they best be ready to square up

• patching eachother up after fights al the time

• they be kinky bitches man!

• after a nightmare Dallas told Tim a little bit about his ex and it took dallas an hour to talk him out of going to New York to kill this man

• Dallas does strip teases for Tim in his stripper shoes on special occasions.

• Tim didn’t tease him for his make up or anything, he actually found it real pretty on him

• Tim never lets him stay at his own place or bucks after they get together.

• Tim is Demi sexual

• Dallas heard his ex was released out of prison and has a sever panic attack. Tim was right there reassuring him ‘babe I’m right here. No ones gonna hurt you’.

• dals mom comes to town and Tim got Angela and her friends to give her a ‘Tulsa greeting’. Needless to say she left as soon as she came

This was so long and horrible I’m sorry

Special thanks to @sunlitcigars for helping with some ideas and encouraging me to post these

#dallas winston #outsiders #headcanon #dallyboy #jally #steve/dallas #dalbit #twobit #sodapop #darrel curtis #steve randle #sodapop curtis #johnny cade #mental health #ptsd #new york #tulsa #the outsiders #they trash im sorry

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arrantsnowdrop · 5 years ago

Text

On the Front Line - Bucky Barnes x reader (fluff)

Summary: Reader is an SSR agent working with Peggy and Colonel Phillips in Europe when the 107th is captured by HYDRA, and they're not exactly thrilled by the situation.

Warnings: mentions of violence/death, swearing, 1,967 words

A/N: Haven't written for Marvel before but the Captain America movies are all I've watched this past week and my age-old love for James Buchanan Barnes has resurfaced quite prominently. Fanfic is my coping mechanism, what can I say :/ I think I'll open requests up for at least the Cap trilogy characters (Steve, Sam, Bucky, maybe some more idk) because they're fun dudes, ya know? Hope you enjoy! :)

..........

“You mean to tell me you’re not planning a rescue mission?” you said bluntly, crossing your arms over your chest and glaring at the man sitting across from you.

Colonel Phillips sighed and nodded, not looking up from the papers he was signing.

“With all due respect sir, I think that’s stupid,” you huffed. The colonel rolled his eyes.

“Well then what would you suggest I do, agent?” he asked sarcastically. “We don’t have the men or the resources to push behind enemy lines right now.”

“We could at least try to push the enemy back, that way a rescue team would have less ground to cover before reaching the base,” you argued. Phillips shook his head.

“We’re not going to waste half our ammunition on a stunt like that,” he said dryly.

“It would give us a chance-”

“HYDRA would still kill or kidnap everyone on that rescue team, just in less time,” he retorted, exhaustion evident in his voice.

Your eyes drifted to the map that hung behind him, frowning at the triangular symbol marking the location of the HYDRA base where the men of the 107th Infantry were being held captive.

“(Y/n), you know I don’t want to let those men die there,” Phillips added mournfully, “but a rescue mission just isn’t feasible.” You bit your lip and nodded, looking down at your lap.

“I understand, sir,” you mumbled.

The SSR had transferred you to Colonel Phillip’s staff only a week before the 107th had been captured. You did not know them well, but you still felt guilty knowing there was nothing you could do to help them. You couldn’t fathom how hopeless you’d feel if you’d been taken hostage and knew no one was trying to save you.

“Colonel Phillips,” came an unfamiliar voice from behind you. You turned around, brows furrowing at the sight of the tall blond man known as “Captain America” stalking towards you, Agent Carter close behind him.

“Well, if it isn’t the ‘Star-Spangled Man With A Plan,’ what is your plan today?” Phillips asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“I need the casualty list from Azzano,” the blonde said intently.

“You don’t get to give me orders, son,” Colonel Phillips replied dryly.

“I just need one name, Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th.”

The Colonel rolled his eyes and began flipping through a stack of papers on his desk. You looked up at the newcomer and gave him a small smile.

“Agent (Y/n) (L/n),” you said, sticking out your hand for him to shake. He reached out and grasped it firmly.

“Steve Rogers,” he said, nodding once and looking back up at Colonel Phillips.

“You and I are gonna have a conversation later that you won’t enjoy,” Phillips grumbled, pointing his pen at Peggy.

“Please tell me if he’s alive, sir. B-A-R-”

“I can spell,” Phillips interrupted, standing up. “I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count, but the name does sound familiar.” He turned around, facing the three of you.

“I’m sorry,” he said genuinely.

“What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?” Steve asked urgently.

“He is not,” you stated, glaring at the Colonel.

“I thought you were going to try to convince him to plan a rescue, (Y/n),” Peggy asked. You groaned and turned around in your seat to face her.

“I did try,” you said exasperatedly. “Clearly it didn’t work so well.”

“But if you know where they are, why not at least-” Steve started, but Phillips cut him off once again.

“They’re thirty miles behind the lines, through the most heavily fortified territory in Europe,” Phillips explained. “We’d lose more men than we’d save, but I don’t expect you to understand that, because you're a chorus girl.” You glared at Phillips sternly.

“You don’t need to be so rude,” you said, pushing yourself out of your chair and stalking away.

“(Y/n)!” Phillips called, but you shook your head and kept walking.

You respected the colonel a great deal, but you weren’t going to stand by while he made fun of well-meaning people. Poor Steve just wanted to save his friend, and that was nothing to ridicule.

Though you hated to admit it, Phillips was right. Just making it past enemy lines would be hard enough, let alone thirty miles beyond that.

“(Y/n)!”

You whipped around, squinting at Peggy and Steve as they sped towards you.

“What do you two want?” you asked suspiciously.

“I’m going to get Howard to fly Steve into Azzano,” Peggy whispered quickly, eyes darting left and right to make sure no one was listening. Your eyes widened in surprise.

“Wow, ok,” you managed, shocked that the Agent Peggy Carter was willingly disobeying Colonel Phillips’ orders.

“We need someone to distract Phillips for a few hours,” she continued. You looked up at Steve.

“You’re gonna save those men?” you asked.

“I’m going to try,” he said with a determined nod. You grinned and glanced at Peggy.

“Of course I’ll help you,” you said. “Distraction is my middle name.”

~~~~~

“Senator Brandt, I regret to report that Captain Steven G. Rogers went missing behind enemy lines on the third,” Colonel Phillips articulated, pacing slowly around the tent.

“Aerial reconnaissance has proven unfruitful. As a result, I must declare Captain Rogers killed in action. Period.”

You sighed, standing up from your seat next to the young Corporal who’d been typing down Phillips’ words.

“The last surveillance flight is back,” Peggy said as she walked in. “No sign of activity.”

“Go get a cup of coffee, Corporal,” Phillips said, the younger man nodding quickly and scurrying away. You smirked, always finding it amusing how wary Colonel Phillips’ men were of their commanding officer.

“I can’t touch Stark, he’s rich and he’s the Army’s number one weapons contractor,” Colonel Phillips said sternly. “You both are neither one.”

“With respect, sir,” Peggy started, “I don’t regret my actions. And I don’t think Captain Rogers did either.”

“(Y/n)?” Phillips asked, turning to you.

You bit your lip, looking down at the reconnaissance reports on his desk.

“I’m not sorry,” you said finally.

“Oh?”

““Attempting a rescue mission, even if it proved unsuccessful, was better than just abandoning those men,” you said, looking up at him. “Yes, the mission failed, but at least we tried.”

“What makes either of you think I give a damn about your opinions,” Colonel Phillips huffed, brows furrowing in confusion as he glanced outside.

“What the hell’s going on out there?” he muttered, watching as soldiers rushed past the tent. You shook your head, quickly following him and Peggy out to the edge of camp.

The three of you pushed through the crowds of men, curious to see what was causing such a commotion.

“Look who it is!” someone shouted excitedly.

“I can’t see anything,” you groaned, jumping to try and see over the men in front of you.

“Oh my gosh, it’s Steve,” Peggy gushed.

“It can’t be,” you muttered, eyes widening in surprise as the men in front of you moved aside, giving you a clear view of Steve Rogers leading the battered men of the 107th back into the camp.

Peggy grabbed your hand and rushed towards Steve, weaving in and out of the medics swarming the crowd of newly arrived soldiers.

“You’re late,” Peggy said to Steve, clearly not upset at all. He grinned at her and held up a battered looking transponder.

“Couldn’t call my ride,” he replied, turning to you. “Agent (L/n).”

“Captain Rogers,” you said with a wide smile. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Hey! Let’s hear it for Captain America!”

You laughed as the soldiers around you began cheering loudly, shaking your head in slight disbelief.

“I can’t believe you did it, Captain,” you said incredulously, grinning as you took in the celebratory scene around you.

“Honestly, neither can I,” said a man standing behind Steve, a small smile on his face. “But I’m damn glad he succeeded.”

Steve chuckled, turning to the brunet soldier and beckoning him to come closer.

“Buck, this is Agent (Y/n) (L/n) with the SSR,” Steve said, gesturing to you. “(Y/n), this is Sergeant James Barnes.”

“Bucky,” the man said, smiling down at you as he extended his hand towards you.

“I see you found your Sergeant, Captain,” you joked, shaking Bucky’s hand.

“Took a lot of searching to find,” Steve said admittedly.

“How come?” you asked, tilting your head to the side.

“He wasn’t with the main group of captives,” Steve explained, pointing his thumb towards Bucky. “Zola had him locked in an isolated wing.”

“Dr. Zola experimented on you?” you asked, gawking at Bucky.

“Yup,” he said with a curt nod.

“And you’re alive? Holy shit, Rogers, I’m gonna need to borrow your friend for a second or two,” you rushed, grabbing Bucky’s hand once more and pulling him towards you. Steve laughed as his friend stumbled forward, patting him on the back before turning towards Peggy.

You sped away from Steve, dodging in and out of the thick crowd while practically dragging Bucky behind you.

“Easy, tiger,” Bucky chuckled, squeezing your hand.

“Sorry!” you called, casting an apologetic look back over your shoulder to him but continuing your fast-paced trek.

“Where are you takin’ me, doll?”

“The med tent,” you replied, blushing slightly at the pet name. Thank God you weren’t facing him.

You ducked under the entrance of the large canvas tent, letting go of Bucky’s hand as you weaved your way through the bustling space. The hospital had become rather busy with the sudden influx of wounded men, so you guided Bucky into one of the less crowded areas and pointed him towards an empty examination table.

“You know, no one’s ever come back to us alive after being messed with by Zola,” you started, grabbing a notepad and pen as Bucky hopped up onto the table obediently.

“Guess that makes me special, then,” he said with a grin, swinging his legs back and forth. You laughed softly, grabbing a spare chair and rolling it closer to the table.

“Very special indeed,” you smiled, sitting down and flipping the notepad open to an empty page. “I’m going to need any information Zola revealed while you were with him, whether it’s about his experiments, or shipping orders, or anything, really.”

“He likes dark chocolate,” Bucky said thoughtfully. “Ate a lot of it while I was in there, didn’t offer me any.”

You rolled your eyes, jokingly jotting down ‘dark chocolate’ at the top of the page.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think Dr. Zola’s food preferences will help us take down HYDRA,” you said sarcastically, biting your lip to stop yourself from laughed as Bucky stuck his tongue out at you playfully.

“I think the experiment he was doing on me had something to do with human durability,” he said, leaning back and propping himself up on his elbows as he looked down as you. Your eyes widened at his sudden seriousness, quickly jotting down what he said.

“Like testing human durability?” you asked.

“Improving it,” he corrected, chewing at his bottom lip. “He wants to chemically alter human anatomy, or something like that. Make muscles and bones more resistant to damage under stress.” You looked up at him quizzically.

“Did he tell you all this?” you asked. Bucky chuckled and shook his head.

“That’s what he told his lab assistant,” he clarified. “But he also talked to himself a whole lot. He kept narrating what he was doing while he was doing it.”

“Very Type A,” you concluded, continuing to take notes.

“I think he’s lonely,” Bucky said in mock sympathy, grinning as you scoffed.

“He deserves more than loneliness,” you replied dryly. “What Zola needs is a bullet in his head.”

Bucky nodded in agreement, raising his eyebrows as he peered down at your notes. You glared at him, tilting the notepad towards your chest.

“These are confidential, mister,” you sassed.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” Bucky drawled playfully. You grinned, finishing the sentence you were writing and looking back up at him.

“You’re certainly a character, Sergeant Barnes,” you quipped, blushing as he smirked at you.

“Well, it’s not everyday I get the opportunity to impress attractive SSR agents,” he teased, “so I tend to make the most of these sorts of situations when I get the chance.” You rolled your eyes.

“And how much experience do you have charming such agents?” you questioned.

“So far, just you, doll,” he said slowly, grinning widely as you gaped at him, face flushing red.

“Well, that’s, uh, well then,” you sputtered, your resolve finally breaking.

“Cat got your tongue?” Bucky teased. You glared up at him pointedly and shook your finger at him warningly.

“You watch yourself, Barnes,” you said, the small smile on your face detracting from your attempt to ward off the attractive man sitting in front of you.

“You need any more information?” he asked with a grin. You bit your lip and nodded.

“Yes, actually,” you said slowly, the conversation suddenly becoming much more serious. “I’m going to have one of the doctors do a physical exam on you to make sure Zola’s experiments haven’t caused any permanent harm or anything like that, but we also need to know what exactly his experimentation on you entailed.”

Bucky frowned, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Only if you’re comfortable, though,” you added hurriedly. “I can always get someone else if you don’t want to share with me, I promise I won’t be offended.”

“No, doll, it’s alright,” he said softly, looking up at you with his bright blue eyes. “I genuinely don’t remember much, I was unconscious most of the time.”

You nodded, jotting that down under the rest of your notes.

“I think he stuck me with some needles , but other than that I have no clue what happened in there.”

You looked up at him, frowning at how dejected his expression had become. You inched your chair closer to him, resting your hand on his thigh reassuringly.

“Hey, don’t get all upset on me, Barnes,” you said. His gaze shifted towards you, offering you a small smile.

“I just wish I could remember more,” he admitted. “It sucks knowing someone messed with your body but not having a clue as to what he did.”

“Still, you have to remember that the information you’re giving us is the most information we’ve had on Zola’s experiments in months,” you said. “Do you remember where he injected you.”

“My back, my arms,” Bucky said. “Probably more.”

“Well, based on what you’ve already said, Zola was probably trying to strengthen the muscle groups in those respective areas with his injections,” you offered. He grinned at you.

“The doctor can do some actual tests to see if anything actually changed, but that’s my theory for the time being,” you continued, standing up from your chair and stretching your arms over your head.

“You’re pretty smart, you know what?” he asked, looking up at you. You laughed, waving over an unoccupied physician.

“The SSR wouldn’t have hired me if I wasn’t, but I appreciate the compliment,” you said with a wink, turning to explain Bucky’s situation to the doctor and asking one of the nurses to fetch Colonel Phillips.

~~~~~

“Fancy seeing you here,” you said, sliding into the empty seat next to Bucky at the bar. He looked over at you with surprise written all over his face, grinning as you draped your coat on the back of your chair.

“(Y/n) (L/n),” he said incredulously. “I didn’t know you took breaks from work.”

“Only occasionally,” you quipped, waving the bartender over. “A glass of Schnapps, please.”

“You’re not at work and you’re drinking?” Bucky observed. “Jesus, who are you and what did you do with (Y/n)?”

You laughed, thanking the bartender as he set your drink down in front of you.

“Needed to unwind a little,” you explained. “Phillips is being slightly too condescending for my liking.”

“How you manage to put up with that man everyday is a mystery to me,” Bucky chuckled. You rolled your eyes.

“Technically, you put up with him everyday, too,” you pointed out. “He’s in charge of both this camp and your unit.”

“But I only have to see him like once a week,” Bucky retorted with a wave of his hand. “If I try really hard, I can pretend he doesn’t exist.” You laughed, taking a small sip of your drink.

After Steve returned, you'd traveled to London with Colonel Phillips, Steve, and the rest of the SSR agents in the camp. The last week had been spent trying to analyze the information Steve had collected about HYDRA during his rescue mission.

Much to your delight, Bucky had accompanied Steve to London. He often frequented your meetings, offering a combination of strategic insight and comic relief.

“Steve told me you’re joining his personal crusade against HYDRA,” you said. He nodded, a small smirk on his face.

“I’ve been following him around for my whole life, keeping him out of trouble,” he said thoughtfully, drinking from his own glass. “I guess I’m not ready to stop just yet.”

“He’s lucky to have you looking out for him,” you replied. He shrugged, downing the rest of his drink.

“I’m lucky to have him,” he voiced honestly. “Without him, Zola probably would’ve killed me by now.”

You bit your lip, realizing that without Steve’s sheer determination and dedication to his friend, you probably never would’ve met Bucky.

“Well, I’m glad he went back for you,” you said softly, glancing at him and blushing when you saw he was staring at you.

“I am too,” Bucky replied, a small smile on his face. “There’s this really cute agent I never would’ve met without him.”

You rolled your eyes, blush deepening as you shoved your shoulder against his playfully.

“Quit teasing,” you said, really not upset at all.

“Never, doll,” he quipped, winking at you and glancing towards the door. “How about we blow this joint and get some fresh air?”

You grinned and nodded, hopping out of your seat while Bucky set some cash down on the table. Your brows furrowed as you noticed his money covered both of your drinks.

“I can pay for myself,” you said, looking up at him.

“Of course you can, but you don’t have to,” he replied, spinning around towards where Steve was sitting with a few other men from the 107th.

“Steve!” Bucky called, his friend perking up at the sound of his voice. “I’m takin’ this lovely lady on a walk, I’ll see you later.” You swatted his hand away as he gestured towards you, Steve laughing loudly from across the room.

“Have fun!” he shouted. Bucky looked down at you and grinned.

“You ready?” he asked. You nodded, slipping your coat on, grinning as he offered you his hand.

“Such a gentleman,” you sassed, grabbing his hand and starting towards the door.

“Always for you, doll,” he replied, pulling the door open with his free hand. You grinned as the cool air hit your face, a stark contrast from the stuffy bar.

“Have you been enjoying London, Buck?” you asked.

“Hell yea,” he chuckled. “Cool buildings, cool accents, what isn’t there to love?”

“The architecture is quite cool,” you laughed.

“I’m assuming this isn’t your first time in London,” Bucky said.

“You’ve assumed correctly,” you said. “Peggy and I get called here all the time for meetings.”

“The SSR seems pretty demanding.”

“They are, but it’s for a good cause,” you replied. “The harder we work, the sooner the war’s over, I guess.”

“How long have you been working with them?” Bucky asked.

“A few years, they hired me straight out of school.” You looked up at Bucky, his face illuminated by the streetlights. “How long have you been in the army?”

“A while,” he said. “Did my training back in the states, then got shipped out here.”

The two of you were walking slowly on the sidewalk, making your way back to the building all of you were staying at.

“Did you wanna come to Europe?” you asked, leaning against his arm.

“I dunno,” he replied, rubbing small circles across the back of your hand with his thumb. “Kinda felt like an obligation, and I didn’t really have a choice. How about you?”

“It was the first job offer I got, so I felt like I couldn’t say no,” you replied thoughtfully. “I guess I was indifferent at the time, but I’m glad I made the decision I did.”

“I am, too,” he replied softly. You grinned up at him.

“Oh?” you asked. “Why’s that?”

“Never would’ve met you if you hadn’t,” he said smugly.

“Smooth,” you replied, hoping your flushed face was hidden in the dim lighting. The other day Peggy had brought up that you blushed constantly whenever Bucky was around, and unfortunately, she was right. It really wasn’t your fault, though, he was a shameless flirt.

“I’m being honest!” he grinned with a shrug of his shoulders. “War sucks, but it’s the people that make it tolerable. Steve, the guys back at camp, now you.”

“Well, I enjoy having you around, too,” you added quietly.

“Aw, you’re getting all sappy on me,” he teased, pressing his lips to the top of your head softly. You gasped, eyes widening as you looked up at him in surprise.

Bucky bit his lip, looking down at you nervously.

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, do-”

You cut him off swiftly, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss. He grasped your waist firmly with one arm, pulling you closer to him as he cradled your face in his other hand.

You pulled away reluctantly, gasping for air as your eyes met his.

“Wow, that was-”

“Pretty good,” he smiled, lips flushed and blue eyes twinkling. You grinned and shook your head, panting slightly.

“Bucky, I’d say that was way better than pretty good.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan fanfiction #captain america tfa #captain america tws #captain america civil war

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magniloquent-raven · 5 years ago

Note

Number 73 "take mine" I'm thinking jacket sharing with Harringrove (either offering the jacket) if you have time!! 💖 💖

so. it’s not jacket sharing, i hope that’s okay!! and it’s actually a sequel to your first prompt? @bambixxblue and i were talking about a fix-it sequel where billy comes back and im weak for fix-its so i ended up with this. it’s. angsty. but also. soft? idk, i hope u like it anyway!!

basically the premise is billy and hopper were both in russia and had to break out together. posted on ao3

—-

Max turned seventeen three weeks ago. It’s hard to keep track of the days sometimes but Billy’s pretty sure he’s right. It’s hard to wrap his brain around Max being seventeen. When he pictures her in his head she’s still a bratty twelve-year-old with skinned knees who doesn’t know when to shut her mouth.

He tells Hop. Tells him about the birthdays he was there for, wonders about the ones he wasn’t. Cries a little too. Funny how easy it is to do that now. It used to be an ordeal, would burn and claw at him until he broke. He’s too exhausted for that nowadays, lets his tears fall unfettered and ignores the shame that still sneaks up on him when he does.

They have to be quiet, always afraid of being caught again. Billy’s constantly looking over his shoulder, jumping at shadows. It’s stupid to risk it, for something so trivial, but he can’t stop the words from spilling out.

“You miss her.” It’s not a question. Hop doesn’t ask that kind of shit, he just knows. Which is why Billy doesn’t respond. Doesn’t have to.

He pats Billy’s shoulder awkwardly. It’s the clumsy kind of affection a father is supposed to offer and it sets Billy off again, tears dripping down his nose and cutting streaks through the dirt smeared on his cheeks.

They’re holed up in an abandoned warehouse this time. Waiting. Always waiting. The plan is to stow away in the next cargo hold with enough space but in the meantime they’re fugitives, laying low wherever they can find empty, forgotten places.

Hop tells him about El while they wait. Billy’s heard most of his stories by now, but he listens anyway. Listens to the wobble in his voice as he talks about teaching El to read, hears the question under it all, about whether he’ll ever see her again.

Billy wishes he had an answer.

The first time Billy set foot in Hawkins, Indiana, he was seventeen, angry and wanting nothing more than to be anywhere else.

It’s three days after his twenty-second birthday the second time. An icy December evening, dark and windy. He’s exhausted. He hasn’t eaten in two days. He’s a patchwork tapestry of scars that weren’t there before, a battered effigy of the person he used to be, cobbled together with scraps of what he could salvage.

Hawkins is the same unremarkable, rinky-dink town it always was. Seeing it again is a relief and a punch in the gut all at once. It’s all he’s wanted for three years, but it’s terrifying.

They end up in Loch Nora, of all places. The Byers’ old house was empty, and going too far into town is risky.

It doesn’t feel real. Standing on Steve Harrington’s front porch, suddenly all too aware of the layer of sweat and grime on his skin. This place is too clean, too quiet. Peaceful, in a way that can’t be true.

Billy chews on his thumbnail, stands behind Hopper while he bangs on the door. There are no cars in the driveway, which means at the very least Steve’s parents won’t answer the door. But there’s no guarantee that Steve even lives here anymore.

He’s getting antsy, glancing around, heart pounding.

Then the door swings open.

Billy is seventeen, half-drunk and stinking like beer, colder than he’ll let on because fucking Indiana and its shitty weather, wiping the drool from his chin when he spots him across a room, already half in love by the time he’s clambered over a couch to get a closer look.

He blinks. He’s twenty-two, pale and shivering, thumbnail still between his teeth, and Steve Harrington’s doe eyes still make him weak in the knees.

Steve’s hair is longer, brushing his shoulders, but other than that he doesn’t look any different. Except that he isn’t looking at Billy with thinly veiled contempt or anger.

“Hey, kid.” Hopper says. “Gonna let us inside, or what?”

Steve is silent. Staring, lips parted. One hand still on the doorknob, the other slack at his side. He sways dangerously, and Billy tenses, prepared to catch him if he falls over. He doesn’t, but Billy’s still itching to touch him.

“Am I dreaming?” Steve blurts, looking dazed, unable to decide who to look at and ending up unfocused and hazy.

Yeah, it’s me, don��t cream your pants. The memory feels like someone else’s. A lifetime ago.

Billy bites down on his lip, battling an inexplicable, and slightly hysterical, urge to laugh.

“Dream about me often, Harrington?” Billy says, because apparently it takes more than nearly dying and spending three years as a fugitive to get over his inability to keep his mouth shut around pretty boys (or one in particular). Though now his voice comes out soft, quiet, betraying genuine sentiment. He’s not sure if that’s better or worse than the armor of taunts he used to cover that shit up with.

Probably worse.

Steve’s looking at him. Only him. Billy had almost forgotten how addictive that is. He watches Steve’s mouth open and close, tracks the way one corner curls up a little when he lets out a little disbelieving huff that isn’t quite a laugh. “More than you’d think,” he murmurs.

And Billy’s brain shuts off. There are a thousand questions stuck up there, but he can’t get a single one of them out because he’s too busy trying to get past, more than you’d think, echoing through his head in surround sound.

He’s startled out of his Steve-induced haze by Hopper’s pointed cough.

It seems like he’s not the only one, because Steve visibly flinches, “Right, shit,” he stammers, “Get—uh, get inside.” He ushers them in, glancing around, checking the street behind them.

The Harrington residence is one of those big fancy houses with more rooms than anyone could possibly need, but that means multiple bathrooms so Steve (as politely as possible) tells them they can both shower whenever they feel like it. And he fusses. A lot. All nervous hands clutching his elbows and teeth worrying at the inside of his cheek, eyes darting between Billy and Hopper like he’s sure they’ll vanish any second and never have been there at all.

Billy isn’t sure how to deal with it, so he avoids his eyes. Then misses looking at him.

An hour later they’re all in the kitchen. Billy keeps plucking at the sleeve of his borrowed sweatshirt, trying to keep calm. It’s too much, all at once. His skin feels raw, weird and tight. The overhead light is too bright, and the smell of Steve on everything is making him lightheaded. The soft detergent scent from his clothes, the shampoo Billy used when he showered (his hair is a lot longer than it used to be, it took forever to detangle it all).

Steve makes some calls. It’s late, too late to be calling people’s houses but he does it anyway.

Not long after, the front door bursts open.

Max is taller than he remembers. Rougher around the edges. Her hair is a choppy mess, auburn waves sticking out in every direction, curling around her ears, and there’s the sharp glimmer of silver in one lobe. She’s wearing a jean jacket with a torn elbow.

And she’s crying, messy and red-eyed, not bothering to wipe the snot from her nose.

“Where. The fuck. Have you been?” she sobs, shoulders shaking, and she practically trips forward in her hurry to throw her arms around Billy’s neck.

He opens his mouth. Closes it again. Feels unsteady, like he’ll fall to pieces if he moves wrong.

“I’m here now,” is all he can manage. She doesn’t need to hear about military hospitals and Russian prisons, about being kept in a cell, wondering if he’d ever see sunlight again… She doesn’t need that right now. Hell, he’s not ready to talk about it. Might never be.

He hugs her back, torn between wanting to squeeze as hard as he can, make sure she’s real, and being terrified of breaking her.

She still uses that shitty coconut-scented soap, and that’s what shatters him. He’s crying into her shoulder, clutching the back of her jacket. He used to dwarf her, remembers her being tiny and fragile, despite her fierceness, yet now she’s supporting his weight while he buckles.

They’ve never actually hugged before, he realizes, and that realization opens a door he wishes he could’ve left closed a little longer.

Guilt. Like undertow, pulling him back to harsh reality, cold steel gripping his heart, weighing it down. He should’ve been better. Treated her better. And now she’s here, crying like she actually missed him, and he doesn’t deserve it.

He pulls away, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes.

She’s still looking at him, hands on his shoulders, a wobbly smile on her face.

Billy is overwhelmed again. It must show, because suddenly Steve is at Max’s side, eyes gentle and his soft mouth pinched in a frown, “Max. Maybe give him some space.”

She clenches her jaw, probably physically holding back an argument, and nods, stepping back despite the reluctance written all over her face.

“I’m sorry,” Billy says, barely louder than a whisper. Then he can’t stop himself from saying it, again and again, gaze fixed on the floor, tears still dripping down his chin. He has to bite his lip hard enough to draw blood to finally stem the tide of apologies. He squeezes his eyes shut, tries to will the world away.

“Billy.” Steve’s voice is soft. He has a nice voice, so Billy focuses on it, through all the angry buzzing in his ears. “Billy, I need you to nod if you’re listening.” He doesn’t want to, he wants to curl up and fucking die, anything but be a person right now because everything hurts and there isn’t enough air in this room and— “Billy?”

He bows his head, twitches, it’s barely a nod but it’s all he’s got.

“Okay, good. Can I touch your hand?”

Billy’s heart stutters, aches. He’s having a hard time concentrating through the burn in the back of his throat, the static drowning out his thoughts. He nods again.

Steve’s fingers are gentle, pulling Billy’s hand from where it had tangled in his hair. He hadn’t noticed the fingernails digging into his scalp until Steve took one of his hands away. It ends up pressed against something warm, soft material under his fingers, moving slow—oh. His hand is on Steve’s chest.

“Can you breathe with me? Concentrate on me, okay?”

He does.

Steve’s cradling his hand. He’s got callouses along the top of his palm, barely there but present. He’s breathing deep, calm and steady. But despite his outward demeanour his heart is racing, Billy can feel it through his shirt. He curls his fingers into the sensation, fingertips digging in as far as he can push them.

Billy almost forgets to breathe he’s so fixated on Steve’s heartbeat.

It does its job either way though, because exhaustion is starting to hit him as the static recedes. He sags, relaxes. Every muscle in his body feels leaden.

He opens his eyes, squints against the sudden light.

He’s almost afraid to look up. Afraid of being judged, of triggering another episode, so fucking terrified, all the time—

“Billy?”

His fingers twitch reflexively, tightening his grip on Steve’s polo.

“You good?” His voice is still so soft, and so close it hurts.

It takes several long moments for Billy to collect himself. Then he looks up.

Max is hovering, standing behind Steve with wide eyes, her worry palpable. Hopper looks grim, but then again, he kind of always does. He’s a respectable distance away, watching. And Steve… Steve is right there still, holding Billy’s hand and looking at him like he cares, doe eyes shining, fixed on Billy’s face.

“I’m okay,” Billy says, voice rough. He sounds like hell, but they all visibly relax anyway.

The room is silent for too long after that. It feels tense in a distant way, like it would be awkward if Billy had the energy to care, was awake enough to feel anything but vaguely fuzzy. He’s still got a handful of shirt and doesn’t plan on letting go any time soon. Steve’s the only thing keeping him upright, and he hasn’t let go either.

“Did… did I do something wrong?” Max asks, her voice is small and tremulous and cuts right through Billy.

“No!” he’s quick to cut in, “No. Max. It’s…” Billy trembles, stutters to a stop. He has no idea how to explain, even to himself, let alone Max. Steve squeezes his hand. His stomach flips. “It’s not your fault.”

She doesn’t look like she believes him, but she doesn’t argue. He wishes he could make it better, but he’s got no idea how.

“We should all get some sleep,” Steve says.

And that’s that. His tone brooks no argument, even in a room full of stubborn assholes. Apparently, the past few years have given Steve time to hone his babysitting skills. Or maybe they’re all just as exhausted as Billy is.

There’s some squabbling about sleeping arrangements though.

Everyone insists Hopper take the master bedroom, Steve says his parents won’t know or care, his old friends did worse than sleep in that bed. They all poke at him until he relents and trudges off, bidding them a quiet goodnight.

Then Billy says he’ll take the couch and both Steve and Max yell at him.

Billy rolls his eyes. “It’s fine, guys,” he mutters. He’s not about to make Max sleep on the weird little couch (he’s done enough to her already) and putting Steve out in his own house would be shitty. “It’s not like I haven’t slept on worse.” He winces as he says it, realizing as the words come out of his mouth that it’s probably the wrong thing to say. It was meant as a reassurance, that he would in fact be fine with the couch, because at least it’s clean and warm, but all it does is make Max look sad and put a little wrinkle between Steve’s eyebrows.

“I’ve slept on this couch before,” Max says, a stubborn tilt to her jaw, “I’ll take it.”

Steve scoffs at that, “You complain every time you have to sleep on that couch, Max. Take the guest bed. Billy can take mine.” His fingers tense when he says it, and Billy realizes they’re still holding hands. His hand slipped from Steve’s shirt while they were bullying Hopper into taking the master suite, but Steve has yet to let go.

And… suddenly he wants nothing more than to sleep in Steve’s bed. But. “Only if you come with me,” he blurts.

Which is really not how he should have said that, but it’s out there now.

“Oh my god,” he hears Max mutter.

His whole head feels like it’s on fire. “Shit. I—I mean—”

“Okay,” Steve says hurriedly, then clears his throat, “Yeah. That. That works. Uh. Okay.” He’s glancing at Max awkwardly, nervous, but she just rolls her eyes. Billy barely notices her do it, too busy looking at Steve, his heart hammering.

“Steve, it’s okay. I’m—” It’s her turn to look uncertain, but it’s only for a second. “Me and El are dating. We’ve been trying to figure out how to tell everyone, and—yeah. Anyway. I’m not going to judge you, or whatever.”

Well, that was not at all what Billy was expecting. He takes a moment to worry about both of them, be terrified of what would happen to them if someone found out. Then he remembers that El can kill people with her brain and Max once threatened to castrate him with a spiked bat. The knot of anxiety doesn’t dissipate but he’s freaking out less.

“How long has that been going on?” Steve asks, sounding more bemused than anything.

Max turns pink, and it’s kind of fascinating to watch. She’s flustered. That’s adorable. “Since, um. Since April.”

“Happy for you, kid,” Billy says. And he means it. He barely knows El, in theory, but really. The kid’s been in his head. He could recite every story Hopper’s told him about her from memory. He died protecting her.

He knows her well enough to know she’s good for Max, and he loves Max enough to want her to have good things.

She grins, bright and real. Billy’s fairly certain he’s never seen her that happy before, and his heart clenches.

“I’m not sure who I’m supposed to give the shovel talk to here,” Steve says, more to himself than anything.

Billy snickers, and tugs on Steve’s hand, “Like you could take either of them.”

Steve steps closer, looking faux-offended, “I’ll have you know I won a fight once.”

“Yeah, three years ago. You’re a has-been, Harrington,” Max chimes in.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“I’m seventeen, dingus.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Robin.”

He missed them so much. Missed something he, if he’s being honest with himself, never really had in the first place. They both hated his guts before, and he… he was a mess. Still is. Just a different kind now. But being here, being part of this, is something he always on some level wanted and…

“Oh my god, Billy, are you okay?” Max asks, concern bleeding into her voice.

He’s crying again, smiles through the tears. “Yeah. Yeah I am.”

#steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #harringrove fic #a raven's writing desk #i kind of want more to this #like #el didn't even SHOW P #UP*#but it's almost 2am #rn #and #this is already so long lmao

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