#this is basically every conversation with clint

[natsaffection]

hi i really love ur stories☺️☺️ i wanted to request gp natasha x femreader x wanda. basically nat and reader are dating but for a dare at the avengers party reader and wanda have to make out and things get heated but natasha likes to warchy and then they have a 3 some

Something different. | Wandanat

Natasha x Reader x Wanda

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! Threesome, G!P Natasha, Fingering, Oral, Blowjob, Face sitting, Rough Sex, begging

Word Count: 3,3k

A/N: OKAY, I NEVER WROTE A THREESOME BEFORE SO I HOPE THIS IS GOOD?😀🫠 Other Request posts are coming!

The team had decided to take a break from their usual world-saving activities to enjoy a rare free evening. They sat in a relaxed circle, laughter and conversations filling the air, glasses with various drinks in hand.

You sat close to Natasha, your hand resting in hers, feeling the warmth and comfort of her presence. “So, who’s next?” Tony’s voice interrupted your thoughts, his characteristic grin spreading across his face. “Truth or dare, Clint?”

“Truth,” Clint answered without hesitation.

“Chicken.” Tony teased. “Alright then, what’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done on a mission?” Clint groaned and rolled his eyes but eventually gave in to the laughter and urging of his friends. Stories flowed easily, everyone relaxed and enjoying the rare opportunity to let their guard down.

Then, the bottle pointed at you, and Tony leaned forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Truth or dare, Y/n?”

Your heart raced, and you felt Natasha’s reassuring squeeze on your hand. “Dare,” you said, trying to summon some of Natasha’s courage. Tony’s grin widened. “I dare you… to make out with Wanda.”

The room went silent, all eyes turning to you and Wanda. Your face turned deep red, your mind racing with a thousand thoughts. You looked at Natasha, worried about her reaction. But to your surprise, Natasha’s eyes sparkled with excitement, and she gave you a small nod of encouragement.

“It’s okay,” Natasha whispered, leaning close to you. “I find the idea… thrilling.” You swallowed hard, feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation. Wanda, sitting across the circle, gave you a reassuring smile. Slowly, you stood up and walked towards Wanda, feeling every eye in the room on you.

Wanda stood as well and stepped closer to you. There was a moment of hesitation before Wanda gently cupped your face in her hands and leaned in. Her lips met yours softly at first, then with growing intensity. The room seemed to disappear, and all you could focus on was the feeling of Wanda’s lips on yours.

As you and Wanda kissed, Natasha felt a wave of excitement wash over her, her breath catching in her throat. She shifted in her seat, feeling the growing heat and desire at the sight of her Girlfriend kissing someone else.

When you and Wanda finally pulled apart, the room erupted in cheers and whistles. Breathless and blushing, you turned to see Natasha watching you with a look of unmistakable arousal.

“Should we take this somewhere more private?” Natasha suggested, her voice husky with desire.

You felt a shiver of excitement run down your spine as Natasha stood up and took your hand, leading you and Wanda to her room. The rest of the team watched you leave, exchanging knowing looks and grins.

As you entered Natasha’s room, the atmosphere changed. The playful, teasing energy of the game transformed into something more intense and intimate. Natasha closed the door behind her, and you felt a thrill of anticipation.

“I’ve.. never had a threesome before,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. Natasha and Wanda exchanged a glance, then Wanda said something to Natasha in Russian, her voice deep and seductive. “Она такая сладкая и невинная. Как мы будем её трахать?” (“She’s so sweet and innocent. How should we fuck her?”)

Natasha’s eyes darkened with desire, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Медленно сначала. Потом можем быть жёсткими. Ей это понравится.” (“Slowly at first. Then we can be rough. She’ll like it.”)

Natasha stepped closer, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Don’t worry, detka. We’ll take good care of you,” she assured you, her voice soft and soothing.

Wanda approached from the other side, her fingers lightly grazing your arm. “Just relax and let us lead you,” she whispered.

Natasha claimed your mouth in a fierce kiss, leaving Wanda to explore the curve of your neck with gentle touches.

Wanda’s fingertips danced along the delicate hollow of your collarbone, the flesh exposed beneath the lace of your negligee. You whimpered, your body arching against the two dominant women, desperate for more.

Natasha broke the kiss, letting a finger trail down the sides of your breasts before sliding her hand lower, diving beneath the satin material to cup you through the lace panties.

You gasped at the sensation and bit your lower lip as you met Natasha’s gaze. “I want you,” you said, the need in your voice unmistakable.

Natasha smiled, her finger brushing over your throbbing clitoris. “Patience,” she whispered seductively. Wanda took the moment, wrapping her arms around Natasha’s waist and pressing against the curve of her hips.

“I think she’s ready for you,” Wanda said, nodding in your direction. Her deep, commanding voice filled the air with a layer of seduction and sensuality.

Natasha’s emerald eyes sparkled with satisfaction as she let her hands glide over your body. Your breath hitched and trembled as each of her fingers danced over your sensitive flesh. Without a word, Natasha claimed you, engulfing you in an embrace that set the stage for a night of passion beyond imagination.

Meanwhile, Wanda watched with predatory intent as Natasha and your bodies entwined. As Natasha and your breaths came in gasping bursts on the bed, Wanda approached with a sly smile on her lips.

Slowly, she crawled onto the mattress, her movements deliberate and sensual. She stretched out like a predator, ready to claim its prey. When she reached her target between Natasha and you, she firmly grabbed Natasha’s hand and guided it away from your hot, slick center.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Wanda growled in a deep, sensual voice. “It’s time to taste my sweet nectar.”

With a devilish grin, she slid two fingers into her slit, collecting the slippery mixture of her arousal and the evidence of her desire. She lifted her hand to her mouth and sucked her fingers clean.

Her eyes closed in mid-lick, as if savoring every drop, the room vibrating with her deep moan. You and Natasha could only watch, hot-blooded and hungry for what was to come.

Wanda wasn’t done teasing. She gently traced her fingertips along Natasha’s chin and leaned forward, demanding submission with a tilt of her head. Eagerly, Natasha responded, pressing her lips to Wanda’s insistent, fleshy kiss. Their tongues danced passionately together, fueling the fire that burned between them.

With a growl of desire, Wanda broke the kiss, letting her hand glide down Natasha’s torso. Natasha’s hips bucked against Wanda’s touch, seeking more of the attention.

You watched, aroused and enticed by the sight of your lover and your friend moving together in pleasure. As your arousal grew, Wanda withdrew her hand from Natasha, her hungry gaze never leaving the writhing figure between them. You.

“You,” Wanda growled, her eyes never wavering from you. “It’s time for you, don’t you think?“ You nodded, your eyes wide and glazed with anticipation.

Wanda moved between your legs, her thigh brushing against your delicate thigh. Fingers traced a path over your lace-covered slit, your petite body tensing at the sensation. Wanda met your gaze and grinned, her eyes gleaming with that predatory hunger.

“You look stunning, Tasha’s precious little sub,” Wanda purred, a hint of playfulness in her words. Natasha chuckled and shook her head, smiling. “Always the teaser, aren’t you?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

You whimpered on the bed, your body writhing as your anticipation reached a peak. “Please,” you begged. “I want it.”

Wanda slowly pushed the lace panties aside, revealing your smooth, swollen opening. “Begging for it already?” she asked with a smirk. You bit your lower lip and nodded eagerly. “Yes, Wanda, please.”

Wanda responded by slowly sinking a single finger into your dripping pussy. A moan escaped your throat as the finger was fully taken in.

“Mmm,” Wanda purred, drawing out the sound seductively. “That’s the spot, isn’t it?” You nodded eagerly and writhed against the finger buried deep within you.

Natasha leaned back, her cock pressing against the damp fabric of her underwear. Wanda’s breathing grew heavier at the sight of Natasha’s arousal, her free hand reaching out to stroke the evident heat through the barrier separating them.

“Take it, Wanda.”

With feline grace, Wanda released your belly, “Impatient, are we?” Wanda purred, that mischievous smile curling her lips as she pushed the material aside and revealed Natasha’s aching cock. You gasped for breath, left with frustration.

Natasha’s dick twitched at the exposure, hungry for Wanda’s touch. You, watching the interaction between your two lovers, trembled with anticipation. Wanda leaned forward, her voice a whisper in Natasha’s ear as she asked:

“Do you want me to taste you, Natasha?” Natasha’s response was a breathless sigh as Wanda’s hand closed around her hard shaft, stroking it with practiced ease. You watched silently in approval from the side, your legs still spread wide, your own desire pooling and begging for attention.

Natasha leaned further into Wanda’s touch, closing her eyes as she focused on the sensation of Wanda’s hand around her cock. “Fuck, yes,” she groaned, biting her lip as Wanda positioned herself between Natasha’s legs.

Wanda took Natasha’s throbbing cock in hand and lowered her head. The slick, wet cock disappeared into the warmth of Wanda’s mouth. A low, desperate moan filled the room as the dynamic shifted and Natasha’s body arched off the bed, seeking more.

Wanda’s wet, greedy mouth captured more than just her mind, her tongue swirling around the tip, the heat unbearable and enticing. With a firm grip around Natasha’s cock, Wanda sank down, her lips closing tightly as she took more into her mouth.

“God, Wanda..“ Natasha cursed, her fingers clawing at the sheets as her body moved in time with Wanda’s rhythmic, skilled blowjob. It didn’t take long for the pleasure to reach its peak.

Wanda’s grip on Natasha’s cock remained firm and steady as she pulled back, releasing the sensitive skin from her mouth with a soft pop. “Come for me,” she commanded, her eyes dark and commanding. Natasha surrendered to the desire, her muscles tensing as an intense orgasm gripped her body. Cum spurted from her, splattering Wanda’s lips before running down her cheeks, chin, and neck.

A visible shudder of pleasure ran through Wanda as she savored the taste, while Natasha threw her head back and gasped for breath, her body twitching and heaving.

You were captivated by the obscene sight, moisture flowing from your slick pussy and running down your thighs as you watched Natasha’s orgasm unfold. You were desperate to be touched, to be the focus of such unfiltered need. Wasting no time, Natasha leaned forward and wrapped her arms around you. Your bodies melded together, the shared warmth between them a comfort.

“I need you so badly,” you murmured against Natasha’s shoulder, trembling as you pressed your lips to the curve of her neck.

Natasha ran her fingers through your hair, guiding your neck with a gentle finger before whispering: “You have me, darling. You always have.”

As Natasha’s tongue explored your neck, her hand wandered to your breast, cupping and kneading it firmly. Meanwhile, Wanda resumed her position between your legs. Her tongue darted out, tracing a tantalizing path along your thigh before finally reaching its destination.

You cried out in pleasure as Wanda’s tongue pressed against your clitoris, circling it with practiced ease. With each stroke of her tongue, Wanda brought you closer to the edge.

Natasha continued to toy with your nipple, rolling it between her fingers and teasing the sensitive skin. The combined sensations from Natasha and Wanda were overwhelming. Your whole body trembled, coiled tight like a spring.

Your whole body tensed, you moaned as Wanda’s tongue skillfully explored your slick flesh. “Oh, W-Wanda. Yes..” you moaned, clutching at the sheets on either side of you. Your chest rose and fell with each gasping breath that escaped your trembling lips.

Wanda’s skilled hands worked you to the brink of madness, her strong fingers tracing lazy circles on your thighs before gliding into your dripping entrance. She curled her fingers, pressing against your G-spot as her tongue licked at a leisurely pace over the aching nub. Natasha was now keen to tease your nipples.

“Go-d, oh! Wanda! Natasha!” you cried out, your whole body shaking as sensations crashed over you. You floated higher than ever before, ready to ascend beyond the earthly plane.

Natasha’s mouth traveled down your neck and landed on your breast. She bit your nipple gently, teasing the sensitive skin between her teeth before soothing it with her tongue. This sensual attention, combined with Wanda’s skilled fingers and tongue, sent waves of pleasure through your body.

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” Wanda lured with her deep, sensual voice. “Let go. Give me all of you.”

You moaned and pushed your hips against Wanda’s hand, trying to deepen the contact. The woman pushed her fingers deeper into your quivering form, the sounds of wet flesh accompanied by erotic moans. With each lick and thrust, Wanda knew she had you right where she wanted you.

Natasha, her dominant nature ignited, watched the two of you with a mix of awe and desire. She knew Wanda was in her element, but it was you who captivated her attention, your petite body writhing under the touch of the dominant woman.

Natasha, still toying with your nipple, couldn’t help but stroke herself in response to your growing desire, driven by the sight of Wanda’s mastery over you. The erotic tension gripped her as she matched Wanda’s rhythm with her own pace.

The sight of your pleasure-stricken face, wet with sweat and pure desire, was almost too much for Natasha to bear. Her hips bucked, her body begging for more, wanting to unravel the knots of pleasure that bound them all together.

"Wanda, I-I'm going to come..." Those five words drove Natasha even closer to the edge of the abyss. Seeing the gentle heat between your thighs flow uncontrollably while you rode the first unbearably sweet wave of your own orgasm.

Your breath hitched, your body convulsed, and liquid pooled on the sheets beneath you as you shattered with an euphoric cry.

Natasha watched, her body vibrating and tensing with pleasure at the mere sight of your total, toe-curling climax. It was indescribably beautiful, and it ignited the fire within her, bringing her to the brink of her own orgasm.

Your submission to the powerful duo of dominant women coursed through you, filling your insides with fiery lust. You met Natasha’s gaze and whispered sweetly: “Please, Tasha, do it. I want you inside me.”

Natasha’s blazing green eyes roamed from your pleading expression to Wanda’s, who was still working vigorously between your thighs.

A slow smile curled Wanda’s red-painted lips as she withdrew her glistening fingers from your pussy. The wetness coated her hand as she brought it to her mouth and licked it clean, savoring the intense taste.

Wanda’s eyes remained locked on Natasha’s as she sensuously sucked her fingers clean. Her mouth slurped, and her tongue wrapped around the fingers, ensuring every last drop was savored.

Without hesitation, Natasha moved between your legs, her throbbing cock begging for the release it craved. With the tip of her shaft perfectly aligned with your pussy, she slowly pushed inside, groaning as she savored the wet heat that enveloped her. She didn’t stop until she was fully buried within your welcoming depths.

Moans and breathy whimpers filled the room as both Wanda and you took in the scene before you. Natasha’s thick shaft slid in and out of your now delirious body. Her strong hips moved in a steady rhythm against your slick center.

You gripped Natasha’s firm thighs as you rocked back and forth, impaling yourself on your lover’s steely shaft. The feeling of your pulsing core contracting around Natasha’s cock sent erotic shivers through your body.

“Harder, Tasha. Fuck me h-harder..I need to feel you..!” The softness of your voice contrasted with your demanding words, but your message came through loud and clear.

She could feel your body tightening around her, knowing you were on the verge of another orgasm. In response, Natasha thrust harder, driving herself deep into the petite woman. Moans of pure ecstasy filled the room as their bodies writhed against each other.

Wanda, watching intently, felt a surge of desire. Those moans were the most erotic symphony she had ever heard. Her greedy eyes took in the decadent spectacle before her, her skin flushing with renewed desire.

Her eyes traveled down Natasha’s sweaty torso, landing on the point where their bodies met. She could see Natasha’s cock sliding in and out of you, leaving their bodies glistening with a slick layer of sweat and arousal.

“God,” Wanda murmured, her tongue running over her lips as she watched. She felt her own aching need grow, and her fingers sneaked down.

“Wanda, ride her,” Natasha panted, barely able to form the words through her lust-fueled haze. A mischievous grin spread across Wanda’s face, and she nodded. “Oh, I will.”

She repositioned herself so that she was kneeling above your head. You lay there, your eyes glazed with desire, completely lost in your pleasure.

“Open for me,” Wanda growled, her eyes twinkling mischievously. Obediently, you opened your mouth, your red lips inviting Wanda’s soft fullness. Wanda moaned softly as their mouths merged, her tongue greedily invading your mouth.

Natasha watched with a satisfied smile. She was surrounded by a sexual utopia, her cock buried deep inside you, and now, Wanda’s soft lips sealed over yours. Your tongues danced and devoured her in a passionate embrace, creating a tantalizing sight for Natasha.

“It feels so damn good to be inside you..” Natasha murmured. Her movements grew more intense with each thrust, pushing deeper and deeper with each moment.

As you tasted the woman, Wanda’s head swam with pure pleasure. Your skilled movements sent sensual shivers over every inch of her body, eliciting a sweet whimper from her.

The sight of Wanda riding your face sent a jolt through Natasha.Her Girlfriend, dominated by Wanda’s desire. As Wanda’s pleasure grew, she leaned forward and placed her hands on Natasha’s shoulders for support. Natasha looked up at Wanda, their eyes locking as Wanda rode your face.

With a mischievous smile, she leaned forward and whispered in Wanda’s ear: “Do you like it, Wanda? Do you like having Y/n's tongue in your pussy?”

Natasha purred, her blazing eyes never leaving Wanda’s as the latter quivered with pleasure „Yes! yes..” Wanda gasped, throwing her head back in ecstasy.

Natasha slowly withdrew, then thrust forward again, watching as your tense body accepted her eagerly, your muscles twitching with pleasure.

The room seemed to spin around them, and the three bodies merged into one. Natasha watched as Wanda’s face contorted into an expression of primal pleasure.

“Don’t hold back,” Natasha urged, knowing full well that the sound of Wanda’s ecstasy was a potent aphrodisiac. Wanda’s moans and gasps of pleasure grew louder and more pronounced, filling the room with a symphony of erotic sounds.

Wanda tightened her grip on Natasha’s shoulders, driving herself harder against you. The intensity in her gaze ignited a fire in Natasha, her thrusts becoming wilder and more desperate.

You, still trapped between them, felt your orgasm building, the exquisite pressure mounting in your core. You whimpered, your fingers clutching at the bedsheets as you were driven closer and closer to the edge.

Natasha felt her climax approaching as well, the throbbing in her cock intensifying with each thrust. She gritted her teeth, her breath hitching as she tried to hold back.

“I’m so close,” she whispered hoarsely. “I want both of you to come with me.” Natasha’s voice, rough, echoed through the room.

„F-Faster Y/n, Yes..“ You obeyed with fervor, swirling your tongue and creating intoxicating sensations for both of you. Your back arched as Wanda moaned loudly and Natasha quickened her thrusts.

You let out a lustful cry, reveling in the double assault on your senses. Meanwhile, Natasha could barely hold back. She loved how your body responded to her touch. How your love juice endlessly ran down the crack of your ass. The mere thought of it made her forget all time. But she knew the best was yet to come. And to think that you loved her this way, loving her so much.

“I’m coming,” you whimpered, your words barely audible against Wanda’s mouth. Natasha grinned wider at the prospect. She reveled in bringing you to the brink of utter bliss and driving you beyond it time and time again.

And it didn’t take long for all three of you to cry out each other’s names and fall into an orgasm. Natasha came inside you, painting your walls white, while Wanda marked your face. Natasha’s thrusts slowed, and she withdrew from you. Wanda leaned forward and collapsed to the side.

Your first reflex was to take a deep breath, your limbs feeling empty. Natasha, leaning against the edge of the bed, looked at both of you, “Ready for round two?”

-

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[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 6

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 2.7k

Note : I am a sucker for slow burn, I apologise. Best friend!Yelena is in this one! Enjoy! (I’m still uploading every other day!)

Series Masterlist

“Live Wire”

Thursday.

Rejoining the training sessions was… something.

It felt strange, like stepping into a role that was made for you, if only you were better. 

You knew (or at least everyone told you) that you were a part of this team, that you were once strong and capable. But now you couldn’t recall why or how.

The familiar scent of the training facility, the clang of metal, the faint buzz of conversation from otherworldly superheroes— it felt like a stage, and you were just an actor. 

Every step forward felt like the foundation beneath you would crumble any second. The memories of missions and battles shared with these people were just another fog you couldn’t seem to see through. 

The visits from your teammates, your friends, were nice. They just didn’t help. 

The memories weren't coming back, so they were never gonna help.

But you weren’t here to dwell on the gaps in your mind— you were here to train and fight.

Bucky and Clint took the lead in helping you regain your strength, your muscle memory, and your instincts. They started with the basics: hand-to-hand combat, endurance sessions, and weapons training. 

I should be able to do this with my eyes closed, you told yourself. 

The reality was far more frustrating.

You found yourself stumbling over things that should come naturally. A punch that should have landed easily got lost in the air. A knife that once felt like an extension of your arm now felt slippery in your grip. 

You missed, you faltered. 

Each time you failed, a small voice in the back of your mind whispered: You’re not the hero you used to be. You are not who they say you were.

Every mistake seemed to put a distance between who you were and who you are now. You wanted to scream, to lash out, to demand answers from your fractured memory. But no matter how hard you pushed yourself, the pieces never came back together.

And yet, Bucky was patient.

You weren’t blind to the soft and protective looks he gave you.

“You’re doing great,” he said after a particularly gruelling session. He handed you a towel as you sat on the bench, panting in short breaths and dripping with sweat.

Your brows furrowed. “I missed half my shots, Buck. That’s not great.”

He crouched down in front of you, holding your hand in ressurance. “It’s only your first day.” 

Friday.

The second day felt a little less foreign, though the frustration was still there. You walked into the training room with muscles sore from yesterday’s efforts, but there was a quiet determination there now.

Clint was already there, arms crossed after you took a short water break. He gave you a small, reassuring nod. “Ready for round two?” he asked, his voice warm.

You nodded.

The drill began, and while you still missed more than you hit, something felt different today. You were far from perfect, but every punch and every kick felt a little sharper. 

Wednesday.

It wasn’t long until you began to see real progress. The hits landed more frequently, your stance more grounded, your reflexes sharper. 

This morning, during an intense sparring session, you felt everything click into place. The sound of fists meeting flesh, the heavy breaths, the rhythm of footwork— all of it felt like a dance you once knew all the steps to. 

Then it happened.

With a swift motion, you knocked Bucky off balance. His eyes widened briefly in surprise as he stumbled back, hitting the mat with a soft thud. 

For a moment, you stared at him, stunned, your hands still raised in a defensive position. 

“Did I just—”

Bucky looked up at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It was a rare sight of pure joy that made your heart skip. “You did,” he chuckled, brushing himself off as he stood. 

A wide grin spread across your face, the rush of adrenaline making your heart race. 

You had not believed Clint when he said muscle memory would kick in eventually, but now you might.

Friday.

Over the week, you started throwing yourself deeper into training. At times, it bordered on obsession. The confusion, the gaps in your memory, they hurt in a way you couldn’t quite explain, so you drowned yourself in the physical pain of training to distract yourself.

Working with Rhodey and Bruce became your daily escape. 

Together, they taught you new tactics and strategies, methods that felt both familiar and foreign at the same time. 

They were cautious at first, as if handling fragile glass. But when you kept pushing, they began to push back, giving you a challenge they knew you were ready for. 

You noticed the shift in their eyes— recognition, even respect.

Each combat session left you drenched in sweat and aching everywhere, but there was a satisfaction in the exhaustion. 

It gave you purpose.

Monday.

After a particularly gruelling training session, you collapsed onto the edge of the mat. Sweat dripped from your forehead as you tried to catch your breath. Every muscle in your body welt like it was on fire, reminding you just how much work it took to push past the limits of your body and mind. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Rhodey heading your way. With a half smile, he tossed a towel to you. 

"You're starting to look like the old you," he teased encouragingly.

You smiled softly, wiping the sweat from your face. "I don’t feel like her yet," you admitted.

It was true. The person you once were seemed so distant, like a ghost you couldn’t quite reach. “I don't think I ever will.” You said. “Not entirely.”

Rhodey sat down beside you, leaning forward. He rested his elbows on his knees. 

"You don’t have to be," he said, "If anything, you’re better." 

Better. Could that really be true? 

Friday.

You were in the middle of a heated sparring session with Yelena. Like always, she wasn’t going easy on you. Her precise movements kept you on your toes. She pushed you to your limits, and that was exactly what you needed.

Every dodge, every counterattack she made was technically perfect, and you had to stay extra focused just to keep up.

She ducked under one of your punches, twisting her body smoothly as she lashed out with a quick kick aimed at your ribs. But this time, you saw it coming. 

You blocked the strike with your arm, feeling the force of the impact reverberate in your bones. Without hesitation, you swept low, catching Yelena off-guard. Her feet left the ground as she fell hard onto the mat.

For a second, she stared up at you in surprise.

Then, she broke into laughter. 

“Maybe you are back,” she said between chuckles, the happiest you’ve seen her since you returned back to training.

You couldn’t help but smile as you reached down to offer her a hand. "Maybe," you said, pulling her to her feet.

She was beaming at you.

She was proud of you.

Yelena dusted herself off. “You used to do that move all the time,” she said absentmindedly. “It always caught me off guard.”

You tried to search for the memory she described, but there was only emptiness where it should have been.

Your smile faltered. “I… I don’t remember that,” you admitted quietly.

Yelena’s eyebrows softened.

“Look,” Yelena said, nudging your shoulder lightly. “I’m not going to get all sentimental on you, but you’re still kicking my ass. That’s a good sign.” 

You managed a small laugh, shaking your head. “I guess so.”

She smiled, but it wasn’t just a teasing grin this time— it was softer, more understanding. “Besides, who needs the old stuff when we can make better memories?”

Her optimism was contagious. You found yourself nodding, though the ache in your chest hadn’t entirely disappeared. 

Yelena glanced at you. “What do you say we grab some lunch? I can remind you of all the stories you’ve conveniently forgotten.”

You laughed, the sound coming easier now. “I’m in.”

—

Lunch with Yelena started off light and easy. You both sat in a small diner, the kind of place with cosy booths and mismatched mugs. For the first time in a while, you felt a little more relaxed. The sparring session had left you tired, but pleasantly so. 

“So, do you remember the time I convinced you to try those disgusting energy bars Natasha used to swear by?” Yelena started, a sly grin spreading across her face as she picked at her food. “You gagged so hard you nearly threw up.”

You blinked, trying to dig into a memory again, but it came up blank. “I… can’t say I do,” you said with an apologetic shrug, though her laughter made you smile, despite the emptiness.

“It’s fine,” Yelena waved it off. “Just trust me, you looked ridiculous.” Her grin widened, enjoying the memory enough for both of you.

Yelena launched into a couple more stories, trying to paint you vivid pictures of missions and moments that felt so far away. You could hear the fondness in her voice as she spoke, you could see the gleam in her eyes when she talked about how you used to bicker with her over ridiculous things, like the right way to disarm someone or who was faster at sneaking through security. Of course she claimed she was always right.

It made you feel… connected, even if the memories were missing. It gave you hope that maybe, you could rebuild these relationships from the ground up. 

Just as you started to feel more settled, Yelena’s tone shifted ever so slightly. She leaned back, her voice casual.

“So,” she began slowly, “how’s it going with Bucky? I heard you’re still staying with him.”

It seemed to come out of nowhere. 

You blinked, momentarily thrown by the sudden shift in conversation. Brushing it off as bluntness, you quickly recovered.

The warmth in your voice was unmistakable. “He’s been incredible.”

Yelena raised an eyebrow, her fork pausing mid-air. “Incredible?” 

There was something about her tone—something you couldn’t quite place—but you didn’t think too much of it. Instead, you nodded, your mind drifting back to Bucky. 

“He’s sweet,” you continued, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Caring.” You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “I don’t think I’d be managing as well as I have without him.”

Yelena’s gaze didn’t move. If anything, her eyes seemed to narrow slightly.

“Interesting,” she murmured, more to herself than to you.

You didn’t catch the shift in her demeanour, too lost in your own thoughts about Bucky. But Yelena’s mind was racing, almost as quickly as her heart. 

She knew Bucky well. 

She had seen him around you before your memory loss, had seen the way he’d acted toward you— distant, cold, even cruel at times. 

Bucky had always been in love with you; that had always been obvious to Yelena. But he had never let himself get close to you. He didn’t think he deserved you, didn’t think he was worthy of anything or anyone good in his life. 

Yelena had watched as he pushed you away time and time again, putting up walls whenever you got too close. She’d seen the way he kept you out, how he said things that were hurtful things that had made you question whether he even liked you at all. 

Yelena remembered that night with perfect clarity. 

It had been the night before everything changed— before the mission that took your memories.

She could still see the way you looked when you knocked on her apartment door that night— tired, heartbroken. Your knock had been soft, hesitant, like you didn’t really want to be there but had nowhere else to go. 

Yelena had opened the door to find you standing there, looking like a shell of yourself.

“He said he didn’t want my company.” Your voice had been shaky, small, barely above a whisper. “Bucky said he felt like he couldn’t breathe around me.”

Yelena had rolled her eyes, more out of frustration with Bucky than anything else. 

“Boys,” she had muttered under her breath, motioning for you to come inside, not knowing then that this was the last time she would see you like this—the last time you’d even remember the pain he had caused.

You had slumped down onto her couch, hands trembling slightly as you wiped your eyes, trying to keep the tears from falling. 

She had seen this pattern before. 

Bucky pushed you away, lashed out, cutting himself off from you just when you were trying to get close. 

“I don’t know why he does this,” you had said, your voice cracking. “All I do is try. All I ever do is fucking try, and he just… he just hates me. I just want him to at least tolerate me. We work together, don't we?”

That had gotten to Yelena the most—that wounded look in your eyes, the disbelief in your voice. 

You had slumped back further into the couch. “I swear,” you had muttered that day, voice thick with exhaustion and anger. “I’m not gonna fucking try anymore. I’m done.”

Yelena hadn’t known what to say back then. Part of her had wanted to tell you to forget about him, to let Bucky sort out his own mess, but she’d known you too well. She’d seen the way you looked at him—the way you cared deeply, despite everything. 

She had settled for sitting beside you in silence. 

She had never imagined that the next day, everything would spiral out of control—that the mission you went on would end with you in a hospital bed, your mind wiped clean of so much of what made you you. 

And now, watching you across the table, smiling so easily as if Bucky had always been this kind version of himself, Yelena felt that same frustration.

She wanted to tell you what he’d done, how he had pushed you away—hurt you. But looking at you now, seeing the way you spoke about him with admiration, Yelena bit her tongue. She couldn’t destroy that peace for you.

Not yet. 

But what is this?

Bucky was suddenly different? You were telling her that he was sweet and caring? That he was doting on you? It didn’t make sense. Why was Bucky suddenly so attentive, so affectionate? What changed? 

Now that you didn’t remember, why was he this perfect version of himself, the one you had always wanted him to be? 

Yelena couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something wasn’t right. 

Was Bucky taking advantage of the fact that you couldn’t remember the way he’d treated you before? 

Yelena took a deep breath. She offered you a small, tight smile, masking the anger bubbling beneath her skin. 

She would confront Bucky eventually, but she would give him time to come clean on his own. 

But she wouldn’t let him rewrite the past just because you couldn’t remember it. 

Not when it was her best friend.

Not when it was you.

-to be continued…

Taglist : @hzdhrtss @irisk12 @tayyyystan @seventeen-x @lomlbuckybarnes 

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[yelenasdiary]

Can you do headcannons on Wanda being pregnant with reader because of the hex and having to tell Natasha on top of dealing with all the hex aftermath?

(That storyline not being picked is the loss of my life fr 😔)

Westview 2.0 Headcannons

Ignore the ugly ass title lmao, I have no idea what to title this x

These are just some of the ideas I had for the story if I did write it, unfortunately there isn't really a need to do that now so being able to share these is fun! I hope you enjoy, this is kinda long.

After Wanda clears the Hex, all she does want to do is go into hiding, seeing what she's done wrong, it made it hard for her to accept that she abused her powers for her own needs.

Things between Wanda and Nat are slightly awkward after the hex, Nat coming back from basically the dead is already a lot for her to deal with but on top of learning what Wanda did in response to grieving also throws her. She's not mad to say because she understands to a degree, she's more mad that nobody kept an eye on Wanda and made sure she was getting help if she needed.

Wanda does see a therapist.

Wanda knows about her pregnancy but it's something she struggles to tell Nat about. A lot of conversations in therapy help her take that step to tell Nat.

Wanda wants to retire from the Avengers, she wants to leave that life behind and just try to live a normal life but she knows Nat wouldn't be open to the idea.

When Wanda tells Natasha about the pregnancy, Nat can't find any reason to be upset. She's happy, she's excited but a little overtime she see's that the unexpected pregnancy throws her more than she thought.

Wanda wants to do the right thing, she wants to try and made things right. The town of Westview now have knowledge of their ordeal and think Wanda should be punished for taking an entire town hostage. Wanda doesn't seem to fight the idea.

Natasha is against the idea of Wanda going to prison, she always argues that Wanda was in pain, she was grieving and that should be taken into account whenever her and Wanda get into arguments over it. Natasha just wants to take care of her wife and unborn child.

Strings are pulled and Wanda ends up being on house arrest, has 100 hours of community service to do and will spend 6 months in prison after her baby is born. Natasha isn't happy about it but she's thankful that Wanda won't be missing years of this new chapter of life.

Wanda & Nat go to marriage counselling. This helps the two of them understand how one another feels after the hex. Nat now understands Wanda's need to do right and do time for what she did and Wanda now see's that although Nat is over the moon about having a child, she wishes that they were about to talk about it and plan it. Nat does feel like Wanda went against her will a little.

Wanda's pregnancy eventually brings the two Avengers together more. They come more excited to be mothers each week.

They buy a house just outside of New York, close by Clint's farm house so Natasha has privacy and help when the time comes for Wanda to go to prison.

Natasha is in full protective mother-mode, she's always by Wanda's side, always talking about the baby and future plans. She ignores the 6 months that Wanda will be somewhat absent and tries to distract Wanda from thinking about it.

Together, they make their new home a home that is every much them. The nursery is very much inspired by Wanda's Sokovian heritage and Nat's Russian background. They want their baby to know where they come from. Not from a hex and spell, but from two mothers that love them more than life.

Before the baby is born, Wanda tells Natasha that when the time comes, she doesn't want to hide anything from their child. Eventually they will ask how they born, they will hear talk about their mothers. Natasha disagrees, she doesn't want their child to know of horrible things Natasha was made to do but with some therapy, Natasha comes to terms with how to tell their child things without tell them the glory details.

Wanda had plenty of unusual food cravings while pregnant, one that she kept going back too was pizza topped with strawberry and caramel toppings.

Nat would always talk to Wanda's swollen stomach, telling the little unborn baby anything she would think off. At night, when Nat struggled to fall asleep, she would read a nursery book to the baby. She wouldn't wait to read them a book and be able to look over to them sleeping of smiling soft back at her.

Nat was excited to let Melina & Alexei apart of this new chapter of her life. Yelena couldn't wait to be an aunty, ofc she wished the baby was born at an age she could take the child out to do things. Melina was excited to be a grandmother but she refused to be called grandma or nan - that changed when you called her nanny Melina for the first time. Alexei was set that unborn baby was going to be a boy, he would boost about how he couldn't wait to take the little champ camping and what not. He was actually relieved when he found out his grandchild was a granddaughter.

Wanda wished she would share all this joy with her parents and Pietro.

Wanda & Nat welcomed their beautiful, healthy daughter at 10:37pm on a Saturday night in August.

They named their baby Y/n Iryna Romanoff.

You had Wanda's big, green eyes and Natasha's smile along with her red hair.

With everything that had happened over the last 9 months, all the bad and the good, Wanda was thankful that the best outcome was you. You made everything better, nothing worried the two mothers but making sure you would always be happy, safe and healthy.

Taglist: @boredandneedfanfics | @music-4ever | @karmasgxrl | @marvelwomen-simp | @swaqcenix | @mostlymarvelsstuff | @scarlettbitchx | @mallyka-blog | @itsalwaysskorpioszn | @angel68104 | @natashamaximoff-69 | @evilcr0ne | @caporal-nino | @boredandneedfanfics | @teganmiller | @ihavezeroclue13 | @tobiaslut | @cigarsandscotchallday | @nuianced-tck-enby | @springsheep | @prentgarcialuvr | @stayevildarling | @mommysgoodlittlebrat | 

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[sam24]

Minivans And Pawnshops

Summary: You were out on a mission for a week, and when Tony, your self-appointed overprotective bodyguard, notices your Greek god of a boyfriend acting weird, he makes it his personal duty to figure out why. By asking Steve what was going on? Hell no. By slipping a Stark Tracker on him and shoving 11 people into an 8-seater Honda Odyssey to follow him.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader

*****

“Take a left.” Friday’s monotone voice rang out.

“Take a left here, Happy,” Tony instructed, looking up from the Stark Map on his phone.

Happy rolled his eyes, mumbling something along the lines of I know, the robot already told me.

“This isn’t necessary, Tony,” You repeated for about the hundredth time. “Steve is not cheating on me.”

“My evidence says otherwise,” Tony urged Happy to drive faster, earning a grumble from the latter. “He’s acting very suspicious, always going out and coming back late every time.”

“Actually, I can vouch for Tony on that one,” Clint adds from his squished place in the last row of the mini-van, practically sitting in an annoyed Natasha’s lap. “He’s been acting pretty weird.”

“Doesn’t automatically mean that he’s cheating,” You defended. “He probably has other reasons.”

“Fine. Cheating or fight club. Which would you prefer?” Tony cocked his head at you, and you shoved it back.

“If he is bedding another woman, I will make sure he cannot bed any woman ever again!” Thor declared loudly into your ear, Wanda also wincing on the other side of him.

“You mean cut his dick off?” Sam piped in from the back, who was purposefully shoving into Bucky with every turn the car made.

“Um, indeed. I think so,” Thor shrugged. “I am not sure what I meant either.”

“Uh Mister Stark?” Peter turns around from the passenger seat that he was sharing with a very uncomfortable Bruce. “Did you really have to bring all of us? I have a lot of math homework to finish.”

Tony waved him off. “I have like 30 assistants back at the tower, kid. Someone will do it for you. Plus, all of us have to catch Rogers in the act and publicly shame him.”

You turned back to Tony, remembering what you both were initially arguing about after the ringing in your ear settled down. “You didn’t have to sneak a damn tracking device on him! You could have just asked what he was doing like a normal person.”

“Fuck being normal. At least be grateful that I waited for you until you came back from your mission to catch him red handed.” Tony smirked. “Or should I say cum handed.”

Everyone gagged.

“Actually, I don’t think that’s how it works,” Vision frowned, basically underneath Wanda. “The semen technically would not be in the Captain’s hand, unless-”

“Vis, honey.” Wanda just shook her head.

“Plus, I already asked Cyborg over here.” Tony pointed to the back at Bucky, who was still glaring at Sam. “He went uhh, I don’t know and ran away,” Tony said in his best dumb jock voice.

“Nothing is going on, Tony.” Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Just turn the car around.”

“I agree with Barnes.” Natasha kicked Tony’s seat from the third row. “Turn around, Happy.”

Bucky looked past Sam and Clint, who were hitting each other’s knees with their own. “Steve told you too?” He asked in Russian with a raised eyebrow.

Natasha shook her head with a smirk. “No. I’m just smart like that.”

“Too late, buddy,” Tony ignored their secret conversation, flashing a fake smile over his shoulder. “Like the great John B once said, ‘We didn’t come this far to get this far’.”

Peter whipped around once again, his eyes lighting up at the quote. “Mister Stark, I’m really glad that you’re watching my TV show recommendations, but I’m pretty sure someone else said it before he did-”

“Happy, take another left here.” Tony called out, mimicking the AI who just said it seconds before.

You rolled your eyes, the red dot in the center of Brooklyn on the phone screen catching your attention. You had no reason to doubt Steve’s loyalty toward your relationship. He loved you and you loved him and you knew that he would never do anything to hurt you. But, you were curious as to why Steve was apparently acting weird while you were gone, and what the hell he was doing in Brooklyn.

“Trust me, Tone. He’s not cheating. I’ll just ask him when he comes back, it’s probably just some stuff he has to take care of.”

“C’mon guys,” Bucky pressed. “Let’s turn around. I need to pee or something.”

“Hm, sounds like you're in denial.” Tony said to you, ignoring Bucky once again. “Don’t worry, the next step will be coming soon. Anger,” Tony announced with a grin like it was some kind of flashy news headline.

“Tony, why the hell does it sound like you want my boyfriend to be cheating on me.”

“Aw come on, it’s not like that,” Tony gestured at Happy to take a right. “I’m just looking out for you.”

You rolled your eyes once again, rubbing your wrist, remembering the death grip Tony had on you earlier as he dragged you into the light blue Honda Odyssey packed tight of Avengers in the back of his garage. He was saving it for his future family, he had claimed when you asked why Tony Stark of all people owned a minivan.

“Stop!” Tony yelled, and Happy quickly stepped on the brake, sending everyone flying forward. You heard Bruce and Peter groaning in the front. “This is it. The big reveal,” he announced.

You immediately scooted ever closer to Tony as he pressed his forehead to the window.

“He’s having an affair with . . .” Tony paused with a frown, his sunglasses sliding down the slope of his nose. “The owner of Vintage Pawn Shop?”

Pawn shop? Didn't Steve say something about a pawn shop a while back?

Identical confused eyebrow furrows made their way onto everyone’s faces, except Bucky’s and Natasha’s, as you spotted your unmistakable 6 foot 2 super soldier through the glass littered with fingerprints.

He was describing something to the old lady working in the store, looking hopeful and tired, like he had been searching for it for days. She nodded and raised her finger in a one minute, honey type of way and started rummaging through some things behind the counter. She pulled out a small box from somewhere, opening it and gently placing it in front of Steve.

You squinted your eyes, accidentally shoving Tony’s head into the window of the car as you craned your neck closer, trying to read the woman’s lips.

She said something along the lines of This might be what you’re looking for, sweetie, and Steve’s eyes lit up, a clear wave of nostalgia crashing over him. With gentle calloused fingers, he lifted a ring out of the box, admiring it with a soft smile.

“Friday,” Tony called out, face still squished between you and the car window. “Connect to the store’s CCTV.”

Before you could ask since when the hell Friday could do that, the Stark Map with a You have arrived at your destination adorned on its screen quickly was replaced with the live footage from the store’s cameras.

“Did this belong to someone that you knew, honey?” The old woman’s kind voice grainily made its way through the speaker of Tony’s phone as she noticed Steve’s eyes glistening with tears.

Everyone tried to move closer to the phone for Steve’s reply in the overcrowded car. “Ow!” You heard Clint yell, probably at Sam. “That was my foot, dumbass!” He was immediately shushed.

“Yeah.” Steve nodded, still smiling at the ring. “My ma’s.”

Multiple gasps were heard throughout the car, Happy’s being the loudest.

A weeks old, sleepy memory that was buried deep into your brain immediately flooded back.

You and Steve were wrapped around each other, your ear pressed to his heart, slowly lulling you to sleep with a familiar beat.

“Y’know, you remind me of my ma.” Steve randomly declared against your hair, and you peered up at him to meet the soft currents in his eyes. “Beautiful. Kind. Doesn’t take shit from anyone.”

He pressed a kiss to your lips as you smiled, cupping your face to pull back and look at you. He stared lovingly at you for a while, settling into a comfortable silence.

“Everything okay?” You turned your head to kiss his palm. The last time he had looked at you for this long without talking, it was right before he burst into tears after you had almost died on a mission.

“Yeah, sweetheart. Just thinking.” He pulled you back into his chest, placing another kiss on your forehead. “She would’ve loved you.”

After a little bit of silence, he spoke again. “Her ring was beautiful.”

“Oh?” You hummed.

“Yeah.” He nuzzled his nose into your cheek, a slight Brooklyn accent slipping through as he talked slowly, his words laced with sleep. “Don’t know where it is, but I wanna find it for you. I’ll look through every pawn shop in the state. And when I find it I’ll propose when the time’s right under the stars and you’ll say yes because you’re just like my ma, and Ma loved me more than anything in the world.”

If Steve had brought up the topic of marrying you during the day when you were wide-awake, you probably would have had a stroke of happiness.

But right now, it was night.

It was night and you were half-asleep, wrapped up in Steve’s warm arms, feeling more at peace there than you ever had anywhere else.

Nothing but peace.

So you just drowsily grinned into his bare chest, your hand snaking up to rest on his cheek. “She loved you more than anything in the world, huh?” You repeated. “Well then I guess your Ma and I are pretty similar.”

You looked up from the screen and back at the window, staring at the ring in Steve’s hand with wide eyes. The sunlight bounced off of it and the jewel sparkled in the light with an elegant touch. Steve was right- it was absolutely gorgeous.

A smile crept onto your face, matching the one on Steve’s.

“Why the hell are you smiling?” Tony’s voice interrupted your daze. “He’s gonna propose to the side chick!”

[just-dreaming-marvel]

LEGACY ~ 4

LEGACY MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,675ish

Summary: The Team debriefs after Ultron crashed the party.

Notes: I just want to get to the later chapters so bad so I'm basically posting a chapter of this a day!

Your heart was pounding as you stood there in shock. What was Ultron talking about? Secrets? Potential? What could possibly be in your files that Ultron was interested in? You knew that you didn’t have much memory of your past, but it was worrisome that there were files out there somewhere with all that information. Panic rose inside of you as your thoughts spiraled. Steve was the first to reach you, with Tony right behind him. Tony grabbed your shoulders and gently shook you to try and bring you back to your senses.

“Y/N? Y/N?” Tony called. “Are you hurt?” Fear was laced in every part of his tone and eyes. You barely responded with a nod of your head. “Are you sure?” He moved his hands to carefully hold your face, eyes raking over you for injuries.

“I can heal, remember,” you shakily responded.

“Yeah… okay… good.” Tony pressed a kiss onto your forehead before running up the stairs to the lab, others following after him.

Steve’s hand found its way onto your back, rubbing comforting circles. “It’s okay, Y/N/N,” he said. “Slower breaths.”

“I’m trying,” you replied.

Steve nodded. He stood there silently rubbing your back for a second before speaking up. “What did Ultron say to you?”

“I… I don’t want to talk about it,” you shook your head.

“Y/N—”

“Not now, Steve. We need to figure out exactly who Ultron is first.”

Steve didn’t necessarily agree with ignoring what happened with you, but knew that there was no point in fighting you right now. The two headed up to the lab to see that everyone but Thor was there. Tony and Bruce were already at their screens, searching for something. Everyone stood there in silence for a bit. Looking around, you realized that the scepter was missing. You put together that a suit must’ve taken it and Thor had disappeared to go after it. Tony leaned over a table, looking at a destroyed Iron Legion suit. Still not breathing regularly and with a headache coming on, you quickly found a chair to sit in.

“All our work is gone,” Bruce stated. “Ultron cleared out, used the internet as an escape hatch.”

“Ultron,” Steve scoffed. It was clear to you that he was mad.

“He’s been in everything,” Natasha said. “Files, surveillance. Probably knows more about us than we know about each other.”

She glanced at you, making you realize that more people heard that conversation than you thought. Ultron knew more about your past than you did.

“He’s in your files, he’s in the internet,” Rhodey said. “What if he decides to access something a little more exciting?”

“Nuclear codes,” Maria realized.

“Nuclear codes. Look, we need to make some calls, assuming we still can.”

“Nukes?” Nat questioned. “He said he wanted us dead.”

“He didn’t say dead,” Steve corrected. “He said extinct.”

“He also said he killed somebody,” Clint piped in.

“There wasn’t anyone else in the building,” Maria commented.

“Yes, there was,” Tony said. He walked to the center of the room and used his phone to pull up a large 3D image of JARVIS’ consciousness. It was completely destroyed.

“Oh my gosh,” you whispered in shock.

“This is insane,” Bruce stated.

“JARVIS was the first line of defense. He would’ve shut Ultron down, it makes sense that he destroyed him.”

“No, Ultron could’ve assimilated JARVIS,” Bruce said. “This isn’t strategy, this is… rage.”

Loud footsteps entered the lab. Thor had returned and he was clearly furious. He walked straight to Tony, grabbing him by his throat and lifting him up.

“Thor!” you yelled. Jumping up from the chair, you ran over to try and pull him off of your father.

“Woah, woah, woah, it’s going around,” Clint commented.

“Come on,” Tony strangled out. “Use… your words… buddy.”

“I have more than enough words to describe you, Stark,” Thor spat.

“Thor!” You and Steve both called out, your tones very different.

“The Legionnaire,” Steve added.

Thor looked over at you. Seeing the worry in your eyes, he aggressively let go of Tony. Tony stumbled back despite your best efforts to help steady him.

“Trail went cold about a hundred miles out but it’s headed north,” Thor told everyone. “And it has the scepter. Now we have to retrieve it, again.”

“The genie’s out of the bottle,” Natasha said. “Clear and present is Ultron.”

“I don’t understand,” Helen broke her silence. “You built this program. Why is it trying to kill us?”

Tony started laughing. How could he think that any of this was funny? Bruce and I shared a looked before he made eye contact with Tony. Bruce shook his head at Tony, trying to get him to stop.

“You think this is funny?” Thor was growing angry again with Tony.

“No. It’s probably not,” Tony chuckled, trying to subdue his laughter. “Right? Is this very terrible?” He continued laughing a little. “Is it so… is it so… it is.” He looked at you, seeing that you were scared. “It’s so terrible.”

“This could’ve been avoided if you hadn’t played with something you don't understand.”

“No! I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Tony’s own anger began showing as he took a few steps towards Thor. “It is funny. It’s a hoot that you don’t get why we need this.”

“Tony,” Bruce sung out quietly. “Maybe this might not be the time to–”

“Really?” Tony quickly turned around to Bruce. “That’s it? You just roll over, show your belly, every time somebody snarls?”

“Only when I’ve created a murder bot.”

“We didn’t. We weren’t even close. Were we close to an interface?”

Bruce nodded and shrugged as you suddenly broke in, unable to be silent anymore, “Well apparently you were, Dad! And you did it right here! What were you thinking?”

“The Avengers were supposed to be different than SHIELD,” Steve added, always hating when people kept secrets.

“Anybody remember when I carried a nuke through a wormhole?” Tony asked, pointing up at the ceiling.

“No, it’s never come up,” Rhodey responded.

“Saved New York?”

“Never heard of it.”

“Recall that? A hostile alien army came charging through a hole in space. We’re standing three hundred feet below it. We’re the Avengers. We can bust arm dealers all the livelong day, but that up there?” He pointed up again. “That’s… That’s the endgame. How were you guys planning on beating that?”

“Together,” Steve quickly stepped up and answered.

Tony took a step toward Steve. “We’ll lose.”

“Then we’ll do that together too.” Tony looked away from Steve, barely giving you a glance before looking down. “Thor’s right. Ultron’s calling us out. And I’d like to find him before he’s ready for us. The world’s a big place. Let’s start making it smaller.”

Everyone except you and Tony headed to get cleaned up and looking for Ultron. You looked over at Tony. He was leaning over a table, clearly blaming himself for everything that had happened tonight. You walked over and gently set a hand on his back.

“Dad?” You whispered.

“You shouldn’t be here…” He replied. “I should send you to be with Pepper.”

“I can help, besides I’m already involved.”

“I can’t let Ultron near you again.”

“Why? Do you know about the files he was talking about?”

Tony shook his head. “Not at all. And I’m terrified of what he’s going to do to you with the information he has… I need you safe.” He turned to finally face you.

“And I need you safe. I’m helping with this, no matter what.”

“I figured you’d say that… Can you do something for me before you jump in?”

“Of course, Dad.”

“Go get some rest. A lot happened tonight and I’m worried. Can you do this for your old man? Please?” You gave in with a nod. “That’s my girl.” He gently pulled you in and kissed the top of your head. You wrapped your arms around him. 

“Just an hour or two. Then I’m out here helping.”

“Alright.” Tony didn’t let you go just yet and you were okay with that. “You know I love you right?”

“Of course I do. I love you, too.”

He pulled away. “Get going. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

You left the lab without another word, knowing that it wasn’t worth it to fight with your father. He was clearly exhausted and struggling. A few hours of rest would do you well so that you could help him. You got into the elevator, leaned back against the wall and closed your eyes. Before the doors could close, Steve stopped them with his arm and slipped into the elevator. You knew who it was and stayed in your position.

“Are you okay, Y/N/N?” Steve asked as the elevator began moving. 

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. That surprised Steve.

“What happened with Ultron?”

You opened your eyes, but looked at the ceiling. “He said something about reading my files.”

“Files? What files?”

“The ones HYDRA and SHIELD have on me… he knows more about me than I do…”

“He’s lying.”

Your eyes snapped to meet his. “How can you be so sure?” Steve couldn’t answer that. “I know that there are files out there on me. I know that they hold information that I can’t remember… sometimes I have glimpses. Like when I make a certain movement in training or when someone touches me a certain way or sometimes cold cement. But it’s too fuzzy, like a far off dream…”

“Do you want to remember those years?”

It was a valid question. You knew that those years with HYDRA couldn’t have been pretty. “Sometimes… sometimes it feels like I don’t know who I really am.”

“You’re Y/N Stark.”

You gave him a tight smile. “Yes… but sometimes that’s not enough.” The elevator dinged and the doors opened to your floor. “This is my stop.” You brushed past Steve, turning around to see him after you had exited the elevator. “Thanks for checking in, Steve. Goodnight.”

next chapter >

[turtle-steverogers]

thinking about autistic steve / steve with sensory overload regarding sound, and how he, in the 21st century, starts walking around the tower and his friends with noise cancelling headphones and earplugs to make noise a little more bearable to him. and it takes the other avengers to understand that he can still hear them through whatever's covering his ears, that how good his hearing has become. going from being basically deaf on one ear to great hearing in a very short time makes steve struggle a lot.

i imagine steve really finding comfort in clint and nat, who teach him some sign so they can sit in peace and quiet and have conversations. he also finds a companion in clint, who 100% gets him when it comes to people not understanding why clint turns off his hearing aids sometimes to just. not have to hear so much. just being allowed to rest.

"the world of hearing and noises is exhausting, man."

"yeah.. yeah, it really is."

Autistic Stevie my beloved!!!!

I really love the thought of Clint and him connecting that way, and Clint offering a wordless refuge, or maybe being able to spot before anyone else when Steve is getting overstimulated, because he knows that pinched expression, knows the way Steve is twitching his head every few seconds, overwhelmed, and he will privately sign a little reminder to him to put on his earplugs, or that maybe it's time for his headphones.

I also love the thought of Bucky coming back and learning all of these things about Steve in the context of his autism? Like things he used to just think of "Steve things" actually having a traceable explanation and things he can do to help accommodate Steve when he needs an extra hand!! Bucky always used to carry little helping hand things for Steve, like a sketchbook and some pencils, but now that includes some earplugs and headphones.

Also Bucky giving Steve squeezes when he's overwhelmed >>>>>

[reviiely]

The MayDaisy Universe Collection

I got an idea of compiling short tiny headcanons for my Sunglasses (and other stories) universe from this post so here’s the first part!

• this is kinda already in the fics but whenever Skye has a nightmare, she goes and finds wherever May is whether she’s sleeping or awake— she just finds her and curls up next to her someway, somehow. This starts after they move from LA in the first fic.

• Skye and Coulson first met when she was still a kid and he watched her for Clint, who was her social worker at the time. The story of how they met is linked here.

• Skye and Barton still remember each other, but they’ve been out of contact for a while. When she starts working at the Triskelion, she sees him again, and they catch up. Between TMWIH and Next Big Thing, they become friends and text every now and then. Skye likes to send him bird memes.

• Skye and May are roughly the same size and swap outfits constantly. In the beginning, May will think that she lost a shirt until she sees it in Skye’s closet, and in retaliation, she took some of Skye’s stuff. They end up mish mashing their styles to create some combo of dress casual and comfy pjs.

• May and Coulson have taken Skye to Disneyland and Universal on a trip back to LA during the years she spent with them. There’s a picture with Skye and Coulson in Hufflepuff robes while May stands next to them, decked out in Slytherin merch.

• Coulson cooks for everyone on the Bus. He teaches Simmons, Skye, and Ward how to cook. Simmons takes to it easily because “it’s basically chemistry”, Skye manages to make an ooblek soup, and Ward, who is supposedly great at making survival food, somehow ungrills a cheese.

• when Skye was in her coma, she kinda had this framework experience where May and Coulson were her bio parents.

• similarly, if I had put her through the Framework, her regret would’ve been that she couldn’t save that girl in Ashlands, and she would’ve quit SHIELD to be a single parent/sister figure to the girl. She would’ve been a waitress by day, hacker by ‘night’, which was supposed to be a parallel to how she began the start of the series.

• while we’re on the subject, the Framework lives I planned out for Coulson and May are different than in canon (bc ofc I had to make things harder for myself, lol) I’ll make a different post tho

• after she kills Jiaying (oops, spoilers for the people who didn’t read voice) Skye and Cal have a long convo about what they want from each other. In the end, Cal agrees to have his memories erased because he trusted Skye, who said that this was the best option for everyone involved.

• when Skye/Daisy runs away from SHIELD after Lincoln’s death (yes, I was still gonna kill him), she constantly seeks refuge in Cal’s vet place, to the point where he becomes a trusted confidant. Eventually, he remeets Coulson and May, and has a sort of angry conversation for how they handled Skye/Daisy’s situation.

• when her powers get out of control in that one episode that I don’t remember, the one with Sif in it, Skye grabs the nearest gun she sees and shoots herself with it. Contrary to canon, while she had more firearm experience in this universe, Skye didn’t actually register what she was holding before she shot herself. In her mind, it didn’t really matter, because she was taught to eliminate the threat. If it was by lethal force, so be it. If it was her, so be it. It was still an ICER though.

• Skye/Daisy and May drift apart during the break between season 3 and 4, understandably. May and Coulson had gotten together the night she left, before they knew that she had left. They were planning on telling her the morning after, but when they went to get her, all that was left in her bunk was a note. May tries to make contact, and is only successful once or twice. Skye/Daisy only calls if she needs something, which May always provides.

• Skye, May, and Coulson ran SHIELD in s2, and Coulson was fully prepared to hand the agency off to Skye when he succumbed to the carvings. Skye was told later, and she was prepared for that eventuality.

• after Coulson actually dies in s5, Skye/Daisy lets Mack handle things while she and May take a trip to get themselves back to working condition. Then Skye/Daisy resumes leadership of SHIELD and leads them through season 6 and 7.

• May and Coulson were planning to adopt Skye after the events of s2, but they held off asking her because they thought that she might not want that after meeting her bio parents.

• Coulson proposed to May in Tahiti, and they flew Skye/Daisy in for their tiny ceremony. They never told anyone else about this, and throughout season 6 and 7, May would wear her wedding band on a necklace under her shirt.

That’s all I can think of at the moment, but enjoy your crumbs, everyone! You can pick any of these and beg me to write them and maybe I’ll say yes if my brain lets me. Also there’s a lot of self promo in this post, lol.

[questionableratatouille00]

𝘏𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴 𝘗𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴 (𝘚𝘰 𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘐 𝘊𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘍𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴)

Paring: Natasha Romanoff x GN!Reader

Summary: Happy Halloween! To celebrate the Holiday, Stark throws his annual party. But when a certain Russian spy shows up in a scandalous costume, only chaos may ensue.

Warnings: Halloween? Cursing, drinking, alcohol, more descriptive kissing? Let me know if anything else needs to be tagged.

You took a deep breath, adding your final touches of green to your face. You were a zombie this year. It was basic, sure, but easy. Wear some dirt-stained clothes and add green splotches to your face. Maybe draw a bite mark on your neck or something if you’re extra. Which, of course, you were.

You walked out of your room and down the halls of the Compound, using the loud sounds of music playing and guests talking as a guide to where the party was. It was Tony’s annual Halloween party, and all of the Avengers were required to attend.

Hence why you were even there.

You bit your lip anxiously, standing awkwardly in the corner of the room, near the door to some hallway. Sure, you could identify every one of your friends in the large room, but they were all deep in conversations with other people. And you weren't gonna drag any of them away from that, you weren't an asshole.

A tap on your shoulder zapped you from your thoughts. You turned to look at the culprit, eyes wide.

"Sorry," she chuckled. "Did I scare you?"

"Natasha." You said aloud, you know, like an idiot. "No. Uh--no. I'm..I'm alright, don't--don't worry."

She laughed again at that. “Well, nice costume.”

“Thanks. I like yours.”

“I went a little basic this year. Clint and I went as Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable last year, so I wanted to do something a little more well known this year.” She explained.

“A..devil?”

She flashed you a smile, doing a small spin. Her short and sparkly red dress—paired with fishnet tights and bright red high heels and a devil horn headband—made her look great.

“Correct.” She grinned. “What do you think?”

“It looks great.” You look great.

“Glad you think so. Did you see Tony? Already hammered.”

“Sounds about right. I still can’t believe Sam and Clint managed to get Steve and Bucky to go as the Teletubbies with them.” You chuckled.

“They look good, though.” Nat shrugged. Then she gave you a devilish grin. “You wanna do something..wicked?”

“Was that meant to be a Halloween joke?”

“Maybe.” She bit her lip. “So..you in?”

“Hell yeah I am.” You beamed.

“Well…we’re standing under the pumpkin.” She said, pointing up with her finger.

“Huh?” You craned your neck back to look up, and sure enough, there was a small pumpkin—most likely made of plastic—hanging from a string off the doorframe.

“Like mistletoe. But Halloween.” She smiled softly, staring into your eyes.

“What..do we do?”

“Kiss me, Y/n.” She leaned in, and so did you.

You kissed her softly, as she rested her hands on your shoulders, your hands gliding down to her hips. You pulled her closer, and she didn’t pull away, the inner part of her elbow against the back of your neck.

She guided you through the doorway and into the hall, never breaking your kiss. She pushed you against the wall, her lips and tongue moving in a rhythm that you desperately wanted to remember.

“Fuck,” you whispered against her lips, and she pressed her forehead to yours.

“Trick or treat,” she whispered, letting out a breathy laugh.

You kissed her again. “Treat,” you chuckled.

She led you back to her room.

Later, in the late hours of the night, or perhaps the early hours of the morning, she pressed a kiss to your cheek.

Though the words were never spoken aloud, you knew what her expression meant. I love you.

“Happy Halloween, Y/n.” She mumbled.

“Happy Halloween.”

A/N: trying out putting the note at the bottom lmao. Happy Halloween everybody! This is a bit shorter (and less structured) than I would’ve liked, but life has been busy. I hope you have a wonderful Halloween, and thank you to everyone who voted on the poll! 💕

beautiful dividers made by the lovely @saradika

[tired-gae]

Prompt #27: "That's not the point"

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: Teen (for cursing)

No warnings as of now!! (If there is something that should be put here, let me know!)

(No ships either)

Premise: Post-revival (Died in Infinity War, ambiguously is Alive at present time, between Infinity War and Endgame) Loki and Clint have a conversation.

---

Loki had been in the Avengers Compound for nearly a week. It had been a few days since the revelation that the Invasion of New York was not done voluntarily on Loki’s part (and since he’d last seen Barton.) Thanos was a topic of heavy discussion, of course, given the whole ‘Snap’ business. Loki’s almost glad he was dead at the time, if only because he didn’t have to witness that event. 

He and Barton hadn’t made eye contact since he’d returned. This did not come as a surprise, and Loki expected this pattern to continue.

So imagine his shock when, as Loki is sitting against a wall in an unused training room in an attempt to think uninterrupted, Barton walks into the room and sits down mere feet from him. Loki glances over but chooses not to react. Whatever Barton is trying to accomplish, he’s sure it will make itself clear soon.  

He observes the agent quietly. Barton looks tired. He’s staring, eyes half-lidded, at the floor, and appears older than Loki remembers. (Though, he supposed, it had been a good number of years since New York. Mortals aged quickly, did they not?) He takes note of Barton’s lack of weapons. (Visible ones, anyway. He is a spy.) A display of benevolence, perhaps? He can’t imagine it’s a display of trust, considering it all.  

Loki looks away once again. It continues to be silent.  

The silence is expected. Loki can hear the gentle whine of Barton's hearing aids. (An old pair, presumably worn for comfort reasons. Stark had bought (made?) him a pair recently, after deciding the technology around Clint's ears was subpar at best, and that the archer could do better. Loki had yet to see him wear them.)  

The silence is also fragile. Barton is the first one to break it.  

"You too, huh?" 

Loki hums quietly. "In a different way, but... yes." 

Barton picks at the skin around his fingernails. "I had a feeling." 

Loki's head snaps toward him, stunned. He struggles to find words for a moment, mouth opening and closing stupidly. He settles on, "Pardon?" 

Barton's eyes finally flicker over to Loki's, his eyes still half-lidded, tired. "You do realize I remember a good amount of my time under the mind-control crap, right? I mean, it wasn't that hard to figure out." He looked away again. "I don't actually have pigeon shit for brains."

Loki takes a moment to form his response, choosing only to respond to the last part of the statement. "I'm aware. You were the brains behind the stunt in Germany, and subsequently the entire plan, after all. I could hardly think you were stupid." 'A distraction and an eyeball,' if Loki remembered correctly. 

Barton's face twists into a grimace briefly before he shakes it off. "Anyway—the point was, I remember a lot of those few days. I remember you going into a trance-like thing a few times, and coming back from it all shaky and shit. ...Not that you weren't really shaky the whole time. You were weirdly weak, and despite telling us not to overwork ourselves, you didn't really seem to sleep at any point..." He shrugged. "I dunno. After I more-or-less got over it all, it wasn't exactly a difficult conclusion to come to that there was something fishy going on, that you weren't really the big bad." 

Loki stared at the wall opposite them, fingers digging into the flesh of his arms where he was crossing them. It was silent again for only a moment. 

"Oh, and SHIELD's known since forever." Barton added like an afterthought. "I mean, they combed through basically every piece of footage from the invasion, I've seen the clips. They analyzed the shit out of the footage from the collapsed PEGASUS facility, they couldn't really ignore all the signs that you weren't quite... at your best when you showed up." Understatement of the millennium, Loki thought with very little mirth. Barton looked over lazily again, though this time Loki was the one avoiding eye contact. 

"Anywho." Barton continued, quieter. "This isn't forgiveness or any crap like that." 

"I wouldn't expect it to be," Loki agreed. 

"It is... I dunno. An olive branch I guess." He shrugged, crossing his arms in a mirror to Loki to stop himself from picking more at the skin on his hands. "Part of me still wants to put an arrow through your skull, but, y'know, it's a small part." 

Loki frowned. "You would be completely entitled to do so, if you wished. I would not stop you from taking that revenge." It likely wouldn't even kill him, he mused. Nothing seems to be able to do that these days. 

Barton groaned, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Loki can't help but wonder what he'd said wrong. "See, you say shit like that, and it makes that part even smaller. I mean, dude. I'm not actually gonna fucking shoot you." 

Loki can't say he understands why not, but he can't say he understands much about Barton. (Despite quite literally being in his mind at one point.) None of these mortals make much sense. 

Barton sighed, letting his hand drop again. “Anyways. That’s not the point. The gist is... we’re OK, all things considered. If you catch me using a printed out picture of your face on a dummy during target practice, mind your business. That’s just how my brain works.” He shifts, standing back up from their position of sitting against the wall. “I’ll see you around, terrorist. Don’t die on us again. Still needja for the whole killing Thanos thing.” 

Loki rolled his eyes at the ‘terrorist’ nickname. “Never losing that epithet, am I?” 

“Not a chance.” 

[pandafishao3]

Prompt for @slashtakemylife:

"Oh oh oh!! I love your fic about the Alpha pound and the collective!! So I'll throw in an aob prompt I've played in my head and see if it helps inspire you, it's pretty basic. After finding Bucky and afraid of him being taken away to jail him, Steve decides to mate Bucky and whisk him away to Avengers Tower to protect him, the avengers want to help Cap but some are uneasy on his methods and also Bucky is now in a gilded cage scenario although is better than Hydra or jail"

"Steve, what did you do?" Tony asked him, staring in shock at the rain soaked assassin cowering behind Steve. His scent was terrified and his eyes kept flickering between the Avengers and the walls as if he was trying to find an escape route.

"I rescued him". Steve's answer was deflective; his eyes voided Tony's.

"No, what did you do?" Tony demanded to know. Because even through that rancid scent of distress, he recognized the smell beneath it.

"...I mated him" Steve admitted in a quiet voice. His right hand was holding onto Bucky's arm, not letting him step far. And now that he was Bucky's alpha, it would be far harder for him to just dart away and escape.

"You WHAT?!" Clint exclaimed in disbelief, throwing his hands out.

"Steve, that's not just any stray omega, that's the Winter Soldier. You do realize that, right?" Sam frowned with his arms crossed.

Steve threw him a look and scowled. "He's my friend. And now he's my mate, so you can't expect him to leave" he defended Bucky, drawing the muscular man closer. Since Bucky was curling in on himself, he looked smaller than he was, but everyone in this tower had seen him in action.

"Come on Cap, don't be an idiot. Hydra's gonna come looking for him, to say nothing about the government. Hell, he's probably wanted by every government on Earth right now!" Tony exclaimed - he was furious Steve had taken this decision without telling any of them. As a Captain, he was too used to just going his own way.

But at the mention of Hydra, Bucky suddenly whimpered and for the first time willingly drew closer to his new alpha. Ignoring the others, Steve hurried to turn and cup the back of his head, soothingly nuzzling over it. "Shh, it's okay. They can't reach you here with me, I'll protect you now" he whispered.

"Steve, they'll come eventually - "

"They can bloody well try" Steve growled, taking Bucky's hand and marching them both straight past the other Avengers. The conversation was over.

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Bucky was shaking like a dog when Steve got him back up to his own floor and herded him into the bathrooms. The rain had soaked through all his clothes and he was dripping on the floor. Steve was rummaging around the cupboards, and when Bucky thought he wasn't looking, he observed the alpha carefully. The memories were blurry and faded, but they were still there - Bucky did know this man. He'd known him way before back when Steve had been small and they had both been omega. The serum had made Steve alpha, but obviously Zola's botched version hadn't done the same for Bucky. Instead, he was this monstrous version of an omega. The only part of his altered body that even revealed he was omega was the small cocklet between his bulging thighs. It had always stayed the same, and Hydra's soldiers had found that very amusing. Those memories stung like poison ivy in his head.

But now Bucky had a second marker of an omega. On his neck was the still sore bitemark that Steve had given him in his run-down apartment where he'd found Bucky. The assassin had been tensing up to bolt, prepared to flee rather than have to face this blurry figure of his past, but Steve had grabbed him. He'd grabbed him, wrestled him down, used electric stingers to knock out his metal arm, and then taken his neck in a Hold. Only then did Bucky calm down. His heart had still been racing in panic, but Steve had held him anyway, and just...looked at him.

"I'm taking you home, Bucky. I'll keep you safe" he'd promised. And Bucky wanted to believe him so bad it hurt.

Steve had given him the bite right there to claim him. Now when they were home, and Steve was stripping him naked of his wet clothes, Bucky knew he would finish his claim by mounting him.

"You'll have to take a bath so you won't catch a cold" Steve mumbled softly, tugging off his pants. Bucky just went along with it numbly - at least Steve wasn't going to beat him when he was naked. Right?

"I can't catch colds" he admitted back, because his alpha probably expected him to speak.

Steve met his eyes. "Right. But I still want you to get warm" he said with a gentle smile.

Bucky was scared all throughout the bath, just waiting for something bad to happen. For Steve to move the washcloth aside so he could put his fingers inside Bucky's ass, or pinch his cocklet, or pull his hair. He didn't do any of those things. He simply washed his new omega gently, until he was clean and warm and pink. The function in the metal arm was slowly coming back to him too. As soon as it did, Bucky might be able to overpower Steve and escape.

But to do so, he'd now have to push through the dominant hold Steve had over him as his alpha. Steve had been right - it would be a lot harder for Bucky to run away now.

And besides, what if he did? What if the government found him, or worse, Hydra?

Whatever they would do to him, Bucky knew it'd be a lot worse than having to spread his legs for Steve Rogers.

No, Bucky would stay. He would bite a pillow, keep still, and accept it if his alpha wanted to knot him. Even if he wanted to do it every day. Bucky would accept it, because he figured it was his best chance at protection. He'd acted the soldier before, now he'd act the bitch.

As he looked up at Steve, he felt a familiar emotion move through his chest, like seeing something glimmer at the bottom of the sea. He knew him. Bucky swallowed through the uncertainty, and Steve smiled like he was glad to have him there. Maybe...just maybe...he could find a way to enjoy what was coming tonight.

[fanfic-scribbles]

Dinner Date Chapter 35

Masterlist

<<Previous Chapter Next Chapter>> (in progress)

Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers has a girlfriend. A prickly, generally asocial girlfriend, but they make it work. They have more in common than some people might think.

Quick Facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 35: The Mission Part 2

Chapter Summary: In the wake of the Winter Soldier's attack and reveal, an important conversation is had, and Steve and his partner decide what they want going forward.

Chapter Word Count: 7214

A/N: Two chapters in one month! It barely counts, I think, because these are basically two halves of a whole, but I’m probably going to be mad at myself next month when I’m struggling to get out the next part. For now though: no regerts <3 Enjoy.

~

I managed to drag myself through work. Not especially well, if I was going to judge by the way everyone else gave me a wide berth that grew even wider as the day went on. But I did my job and I didn’t bite anyone’s head off, so I didn’t really care. Walking towards the subway after work, I was flipping through my messages; I had texted Steve a few times through the day, just checking in, but there was still nothing from him, so I sent another one.

Me: Text me when you’re out of medical

I didn’t want him to go home and be alone, and I doubted he would go be with anyone else right now. It wasn’t really about ego, just about practicality– Sam would want to talk about things, Natasha was super awkward, I could only imagine how awkward Clint might be, there was no way he had the patience for Tony…and so on. By process of elimination, I was the only one who might let him get away with pretending like he was fine. I didn’t actually intend to– but he didn’t have to know that.

There was still no response when I walked the last leg home, nor was there anything a half hour after that. I kept pacing around, checking my phone every few minutes, until my unease was too much to bear.

Me: Hey Me: You can tell me you don’t want to talk to me Me: But at least tell me you’re all right Me: Or else I’m going to get Natasha

A few knocks came just seconds later and I tripped over myself, accidentally running into the wall next to the door on my way to check the peephole. I breathed a giant sigh of relief at the hulking mass of blond man hunched outside, and I practically ripped open the door.

He was distracted by something down the hall so he didn’t look at me right away, but when he did, he blinked. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine.” I rubbed my sore shoulder a bit and tried for a smile. “Nice of you to call.”

The way his face fell when he didn’t even look that happy to start with was heartbreakingly impressive. “I’m sorry, it’s just– I’m off duty right now and I don’t want to be alone,” he said and hunched in on himself– and winced as he did so.

“Hey, hey, it’s all good and I’m glad you’re here.” I pulled him inside (gently) and as soon as the door was shut, I kissed him. “But if you rip open a stitch or otherwise hurt yourself, I’m going to be pissed.”

His smile was wry, like a punch of sarcasm all on its own. “Pissed enough to rip out all of my stitches?”

“If you’re going back to the hospital we might as well make it worth the trip, and quell some of my rage while we’re at it.” But it didn’t feel very funny, considering how Steve was right now, and how he got that way. “I– I didn’t mean– I wouldn’t–”

“I know you wouldn’t,” he said gently.

I sighed. “Can you handle me being super neurotic?” I asked, only partly joking.

“Can you?” he asked, even less joking. He pushed his hair back with one hand. “I’m pretty sure I’m worse company right now.”

“You’re not bad company. I’m glad you’re here.” I wrapped my arms around him and pressed my head to his chest. “Saves me a trip to your apartment. And you know how cranky I get after the subway.”

“Well, I’m pretty cranky right now too.” But he wrapped one arm around me and breathed deeply. “I really should have called, huh?”

“It was mostly a joke. You’ll get it when you check your phone messages.” I stayed there for a few more moments, and when I pulled back, I took one of his hands. The other had a backpack in it, but I didn’t comment on it. “Have you eaten?”

“I’m not hungry,” he said and let me lead him over to the couch.

“Something light?” I asked hopefully. “You need to eat to heal up.”

He looked askance, but I continued to stare at him, so when he finally did look at me, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t see me. He hesitated, so I took a chance and tried to look as sincere as possible. Surprisingly, that got him. “Something light and small,” he said firmly.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I said and squeezed his hand before leaving him to get comfy while I tried to figure out something we could both stomach.

Dinner was…fine. Awkward, with both of us trying to find something to talk about that wasn’t…well, unappetizing. Afterwards we did cuddle for a bit, carefully, and he started to relax a little. I could feel it, with how he let his head drift into my shoulder, the way his body started to curl into mine…

And I, trying to get more comfortable, lifted my foot to set it on the table only to shove it into our half-empty dinner containers, knocking them down to the other side of the table where they cracked open, making an immediate mess and ruining everything.

“Fuck,” I said as Steve sat up and away. I almost told him to ignore it and come back, but he was already bracing himself to get up, so instead I tried damage control. “I’m sorry; stay here and I’ll take care of it.”

“It’s fine, I can help,” he said and, stubborn jerk he was, went to the kitchen. That was better than the alternative, though, so I went to pick up the trash and waited on my knees for him to get back with the paper towels. He wouldn’t be doing any bending or crouching if I could help it; he was still moving stiff and careful, and I really didn’t want him to have to go back to the hospital. I wanted him here; safe and warm and not bleeding.

“Thanks,” I said as he put the trash containers in the bag they came in and tied it firmly shut. I did one last wipe around the floors to make sure I got all the splatter. Once I was certain I wouldn’t have any weird smells in the aftermath, I went to add them to the trash can.

Only to see Steve, with the lid propped open and the food bag still in his hand, staring at it like he was trying to solve an equation. Admittedly, the trash was very full. He even looked at me, at it, and back at me again. He gestured at the used paper towels in my hand. “I don’t think even those are going to fit.”

“Very funny,” I said, but it was nice to hear him joke. Even if it was stupid.

I dumped the paper towels, and then, since he was pinning the can already, took the trash bag out and helped him shove the smaller bag down in there before tying the whole thing off. “See? No problem.”

“Your ability to put chores off to the last possible second continues to inspire,” he said dryly.

“Yeah, I’m amazing,” I said and flexed. He motioned his hand for the bag. I shook my head. “I’ve got it. Go sit down; I’ll be right back.”

Something changed in his expression. It was more like a flash, like there was something in his eyes, or the way his lips moved, but I wasn’t fast enough to really take note, let alone name it.

However, he then shook his head, swallowed, and tried for lightness that was very obviously fake when he said, “Why don’t you let me take it?” He even moved to do just that, but he stopped just before I could poke him right in the stomach.

“Get back on the couch, Stitches,” I said. “I’d have thought you’d be glad not to have to deal with the trash.”

“Better me than you, considering the amount you manage to accumulate,” he said, eyeing the bag.

“Watch it, mister, or I will beat you with it.” I slipped on my flip-flops. “Hang tight; I promise I’ll be right back.”

“Let me come with,” he said quickly. “I won't touch the bag. Promise.”

“Steve,” I said, trying to be gentle because he had every right to be as paranoid as he wanted to be, but it wasn’t good for him. “I’ll be fine. Two minutes.”

He stepped close and gave me…the puppy eyes. Damn him. “Humor me?” he asked and there was nothing light or joking in his tone. So I caved, and let him do what he needed to do. Admittedly, it was nice to have someone open the door for me, but when he winced at lifting the chute cover, I glared him down until he backed off and stood watch. Once the garbage was done with, I opened my arm to him, and he forced a brief smile, linked his arm with mine, and we walked back home together and flopped onto the couch.

“See?” he said with a little too much ‘told you so’ for a man who basically supervised one of the easiest (if most annoying) household chores.

“I saw quite a bit,” I said and poked at his bicep. However I then started rubbing it, and when he actually let out a sigh that sounded like relief I started in earnest. “Are you sore?”

“In some places more than others,” he admitted. “I’m…mostly just tired, I think.”

“Okay. A little rub-down, and then we’ll hit the hay,” I said.

He actually took the bait. “What kind of rub-down?” he asked, but while his voice was light, it wasn’t as enthusiastic as he might have been normally, even if all he was going to do was make a stupid follow-up to my already stupid joke.

Still, I gave it some thought. “Would you like that kind of ‘rub-down?’” I asked, because sometimes an orgasm was a nice way to relax yourself for sleep, and if anybody needed to let out a little tension, Steve was it.

He actually took my suggestion for careful consideration. And I had my answer when his face fell. “Maybe I am worse off than I thought,” he said, almost mournfully.

I stood up, and held out my hands to him. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

He let me take one hand but used the other one to push himself off the couch. He-of-little-faith wasn’t wrong in assuming I couldn’t do much right now, given I was tired too, but it was still vaguely insulting. “I can’t even surprise you by picking you up,” he complained as we made the short trek.

“Oh noooo,” I said, mocking sadness. “Whatever will I d-o!”

Steve wrapped his arms around me from behind and yanked me back into him so he could bite the back of my neck. I let out a laugh and smacked at his hand. “Fucking vampire.”

“Mm hm,” he said and nuzzled that part of my skin. Getting ready for bed was extra challenging, because Steve was so reluctant to let go. And reluctant to acknowledge that in any way. I tried to give him a hint with a hip bump or two, but he came right back next to me, touching or holding whatever he could, and I did my best to work around it. No wonder he was still exhausted, if he was still this on edge and hypervigilant, but we got into bed without tripping over each other, and while Steve didn’t let me lay on top of him, he did pull me right up close to his body, and draped an arm and leg over me. Despite all that, though, he barely relaxed.

“SHIELD’s wasting time on a security detail for me,” I said softly, running my hand up and down his arm.

“I know,” he said. He swallowed. “And it’s not a waste of time.”

“So sleep,” I said, forestalling the argument that was going to come out of that last part. “If anything happens, you’ll know about it.”

He sighed. “I wish it was that easy.”

“I know,” I said. “But…try.”

He blinked a few times, but nodded a bit and shut his eyes, at least. I shut my eyes, and tried to stay awake with him, but exhaustion was too strong, and I could only hope it was the same for him.

~

I woke to the sound of my alarm and had an immediate reaction of ‘fuck no’ so strong that I flopped around for my phone and took it in hand. Steve was stirring, which made me a little mad, since he actually had fallen asleep at some point. I checked the time, but I knew my boss was up, since he was definitely an early riser, and when I called him to call out of work for the day, my voice was so naturally rough he let it go without a comment other than a generic wish to get well soon.

At the end I croaked out a “Thanks,” hung up, and snuggled back next to Steve.

He pulled me even closer and chuckled. “Liar, liar, pants on fire…”

I grabbed Moo Cow Milk Tea and thwapped Steve in the head with him. “Go back to sleep, or I will literally set your pants on fire.”

“But you’ll buy me a new pair,” he said and nuzzled me.

“Nope; I’ll let you do the walk of shame.”

“Or maybe you just want to keep me here. Pantsless.”

I smiled and tried to hold back my laughter. “Ah, you have discovered my nefarious plan to keep you all to myself forever,” I said as flatly as I could. “You may never leave now that you know my villainous secret, Captain America.”

“A villain has me in her bed and only wants to take my pants?” He kissed my neck. “You might be the worst wanna-be evil-doer I’ve ever faced.”

“Watch it, buddy; I think that Porcupine asshole is way less efficient than me. I mean, how are you going to fight other bad guys without pants? They’d never take you seriously.”

“But then they’d be too busy laughing and I’d beat them handily.”

“Because you’re shameless.”

He chuckled against my head. “Because I’m shameless.”

We went back to sleep together, but I woke up alone to the late morning sun. Moo Cow Milk Tea was on Steve’s pillow, positioned on his back with his arms (mostly) behind his head, like he was relaxing. I snorted at the sight.

“I tried to get his legs to cross, but they wouldn’t stay,” Steve said as he walked in with two cups of coffee.

“It’s so nice to see the two of you finally getting along,” I said, and made grabby hands for one of the mugs.

“It’s a stuffed animal,” Steve scoffed as he sat in his spot, but he gave me what I was nonverbally asking for. However as soon as that hand was free, he grabbed Moo Cow Milk Tea and tossed him flippantly behind himself, where the poor inanimate object hit the wall and fell to the floor.

I stifled laughter and focused on swallowing the drink I was trying to take in. Once it was safely down my gullet, I said, “A stuffed animal you gave me.”

“So I can take it back,” he said faux-snobbishly.

I gave him a serious look. “One: no,” I said flatly, even though I knew he didn’t mean it. “Two: it’s a stuffed animal you gave me and that’s why I like it, you doofus.” I blew on the hot liquid. “It’s nice to have around when you aren’t here.”

“Well…I guess that’s all right then,” he said, slightly mollified and dropping the act. He leaned in for a kiss, and I rolled my eyes but met him halfway.

“Morning,” I said as I sat back.

He bobbed his head, and smiled a little bitterly. “Yeah. It– it sure is a morning,” he said, looking down at his cup.

“Did you eat?”

He grimaced. “I’m not hungry,” he said. He barely had the words out before his stomach rumbled, and he ducked into his shoulders more as a light flush graced his face.

“Your stomach disagrees,” I said as sympathetically as I could. Needing to eat but not wanting to– been there; who hadn’t.

“I don’t know what it’s talking about,” he said sourly and took another drink.

“Hmm.” I sipped mine. “What about just trying some toast? It’s relatively easy to get down, but if you decide you really don’t want any, I can finish it up for you.”

He was quiet, and kept his mouth close to the lip of his mug. I didn’t think the coffee was helping much with whatever nausea he might have been feeling, but he didn’t need me nagging at him. He was a grown man; he could decide if and when he wanted to eat. For the moment I simply enjoyed his company, and the start of a day relatively sheltered from the ambient noise of the city in motion outside. After a few minutes, he capitulated. “Maybe just a couple of slices,” he said quietly.

When he got some food in him, though, his appetite opened up, though he was hesitant to indulge it. I tried to make suggestions, but when he started being more resistant, I backed off. Much of the day passed like that, in a weird, quiet haze, with me trying to take care of Steve with intermittent suggestions of food and shower and rest, and he allowed it at certain increments, and to certain points that didn’t make much sense to me. He relented to a shower, but refused the nice warm clothes I tried to give him; he ate a bowl of cereal, but shook his head on my offer to order a good lunch, even though he was obviously still hungry.

I didn’t know if he was in his head and doing this for reasons known only to him, or if this was a weird act of self-recrimination– take only the bare minimum I could give, or asked him to do, and allow himself no other comfort from it. I didn’t like the implications, but talking was also not something he was willing to do much of. Being at home on a random work weekday was surreal enough, and Steve being quiet and moody only added to it.

I was still happier to have him with me, though. The thought of him having to suffer alone at home was a miserable one. Maybe the day kind of sucked. But the whole situation sucked, and was going to suck no matter what. I leaned against him in relief, and after only a moment of tensing, he relaxed, and wrapped his arm around me.

In the evening, after coaxing him into finally having his first real, full meal of the day, he was sitting on the couch, fiddling with something while I cleaned up and got some drinks together. When I got back to the couch, Steve was flipping through a thin, battered-looking folder.

“What’s that?” I asked as I sat down next to him.

“The new file we found on the Wi- on Bucky,” Steve said and let it flop shut. He was quiet and I let him be as he sank back into the couch cushion, looking lost in thought.

I nudged his arm. “I got that fancy juice you like,” I said and held it to him.

“Thanks sweetheart,” he said, words without thought, but he did take the drink and sip at it. He held it down on his thigh and sighed. “I’m sorry I’m so…”

I made sure he wasn’t going to finish that sentence before I responded. “You get to be any which way you want right now,” I said. “There’s no right or wrong way to deal with this.”

“Sam’s got suggestions,” he said wryly.

“Because he’s your friend,” I said. “He knows therapist shit because it’s his wheelhouse and his interest. But you know anything he tells you now is because he cares about you.”

“I know,” he murmured. “I just…don’t know that I deserve it.”

I leaned against him and chewed on that. “Is it better to think that?” I asked quietly. “Does it make you feel better to think that–”

“There’s no feeling better right now,” he said, flat, fast. He shook a little and I sat up to see tears barely brimming at his eyes. He actually let them fall. Or maybe he just had so little control right now. I could wish for the former, but I feared it was the latter. He swallowed a couple of times, and confirmed said fear when the tears stopped and he abruptly rubbed his face dry. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Okay,” I said. “No judgement, but is touch okay, or not okay?”

He gave it some thought. “Small touch,” he said, in a small voice. I was slow as I slid my hands over one of his, but when he didn’t flinch away, I held it, and pushed back the desire to grip it for dear life.

“I have to find him,” he said. He wrapped his fingers around mine and looked at me. “I have to help him.”

I nodded. Of course he was going to; this was Bucky, he was Steve’s everythi-

Oh.

A lump lodged in my throat. Logically I knew this might happen, and still I couldn’t help but be stupid and selfish about it. “Of course,” I said, shoving back all the ugly feelings I didn’t want to know the details of. I hated what had been done to him too, and while I didn’t know Bucky, I knew enough via Steve to want him safe and happy. By proxy if nothing else. “Are you…are you going to–…do you want to–…is this–…”

“Oh, God.” Steve inhaled sharply and gripped my hand tighter. “Sweetheart, no, I– I have no idea where his head’s at. I know he’s been back in the city at least twice. That he did everything in his power to make sure I didn’t notice him once.” He swallowed again. “I love him. I knew I always would. Like I love Peggy, and always will.” He turned and leaned his forehead in to touch mine, and I could hear– and feel– how ragged his breathing was. “And I love you. Right now. And nothing can change that. I’m not leaving you; this isn’t– unless you want–”

“I don’t, I don’t,” I said quickly. I swallowed back some of that emotion, now that imminent doom wasn’t hanging over my head. “I just know how much he means to you.”

“Do you know how much you mean to me?” he asked and gave me a small, slow kiss.

“I try,” I admitted, because thinking too much about that felt…egotistical in a way I still couldn’t quite grasp. Sometimes, maybe. Not now, though; not with Bucky back throwing everything for a loop. Well, for a definition of ‘back.’

“But…”

I looked up. His eyes were still down. “I will have to leave at some point. Physically, at least.” He looked right at me, forcing eye contact and squeezing my hand hard when I tried to look away. “I don’t know how long it will be, how long it will take, but I have to find him. I have to help him.”

I opened my mouth on instinct. “I–”

“Just– listen for a moment,” he said, and at that point he looked away again. I did as he said and waited, until he gathered himself together again. “I don’t want to break up. But I know this situation is…it’s fucked. It’s all fucked up and you don’t have to deal with it– no, I know you care, I know everyone cares, but this is so much more than anyone should have to deal with. I’m choosing it. Actively. Even if it means going against SHIELD.” He gave me a wry smile. “They don’t trust the Winter Soldier, and I understand why. But I trust Bucky. I know he’s been getting on all right, but after this last time…it’s obvious his luck won’t hold forever, and now that I know he’s alive, whether he wants anything to do with me or not, I still have to do this. No matter what, I have to help him, and to do that, I have to find him. I might be gone more frequently, and for longer. And asking you to wait for me while I chase after him is…”

He shook his head and sat up, backing away from me just slightly. “It’s a lot. I know it is, and while I’m ninety-nine percent sure I know what you’ll say right now, I am asking you, sincerely, to take time and really, really think about it. I would not think one bit less of you if you decide it’s too much, but I can’t stand the thought of you committing to me, committing to all of this mess, without really, truly, thinking it through.” He looked at me again. “And when I say that, I mean I want you to think about what you want too. Not just what you think is the right answer, or what you think I want. So please, can you take some time, and really think it over?”

I knew what I wanted to say, but he gave me a stern look. I stuck out my tongue, and he actually moved as if to nip at it. “Hey!” I said in mock-offense, but some of the tenson broke, and Steve came back to me, smiling, and nipped at my lips until I opened up and let him in.

I tried to hold back, but part of me wanted to devour him; take all this comfort for all it was worth, but I drank him in steady doses, until he slowed, and we rested our heads together in silence.

The rest of the night was pretty quiet. The TV felt too loud, and none of my music sounded right, so I let it be, and so did Steve. After a while he picked up the slim folder again and started flipping through it, on the side opposite me, and I tried to respect his wishes and keep my eyes away. I could have gone to get a book. Or pulled out my phone. Instead, I sat there, and stayed in the comforting knowledge that, right now, Steve was here, and Steve was safe.

He wouldn’t always be. I tried to do as he asked, but my answer was much the same– if Steve didn’t want to end things with me, I didn’t want to end things with him. I saw no point in dragging that out. I loved Steve, but he was already complicated as all hell. He was an active-duty hero, who didn’t know when to quit, who had a lot of PTSD and issues and…love. He and Peggy weren’t together anymore, but he still loved her. Bucky was– had been– gone, but Steve’s love for him was sometimes strong enough I could almost picture him on Steve’s other side when he was sitting beside me, the few times he felt good enough to indulge in those stories.

So I had to wonder– was I okay with that maybe being a reality? True, we didn’t know where Bucky’s head was at, and the guy had a hell of a lot going on these days; but given Steve had, apparently, broken intense and painful brainwashing not once but twice, it felt stupid to think there were no shared feelings there. Maybe Bucky wouldn’t want to be in a relationship with him again, for whatever reason. But they both still loved each other. Was I okay enough to deal with that?

“I’m not going anywhere,” I blurted out. Steve’s hand slowly stopped its absent sliding up and down the page, and he flipped the manila folder shut. I stared at my lap. Was it foolish? Maybe. Was it easy? It probably wouldn’t be. Did I still know the answer with a certainty I’d never had for anything else in my life? Unequivocally yes. Which just made me second-guess myself more, honestly. “I don’t know what else you want me to do to prove it, but…I know what I want. And I want to stay with you.” I swallowed any potential lingering fear and doubt, and shut my hands to tight fists. “I’m not going to overthink it– I’m just going to take you at your word, and trust that you want me. So…trust me too.”

I kept my head down, but he slid his hands over mine, curled his fingers to hold my fists, and squeezed. “Okay,” he said softly. “So…we’re in this together.”

I lifted my head to look at him. His eyes were a little misty, and he didn’t move to ‘fix’ them. “Yeah,” I said. I uncurled my fists and turned my hands so I could squeeze his in return. “We’re in it together. All of it.” I paused. “Except for any punchy bits. You can keep those.”

He let out a watery little laugh. “Really?”

“Yeah. Trust me, you don’t want me. I can’t even take out a fly at work that’s been making my life hell for like a fucking week now.”

He started laughing, though he also tried not to. “That sounds real tough, Sweetheart.”

I widened my eyes and gave him the saddest pout I could manage. “My life is the hardest, ever.”

He broke. Mostly into laughter, but the tear dam fell a bit too– not a lot, but some. He swallowed and blinked them back, or out, and I brushed my fingers over the escapees to dry his cheeks. He took my hand and almost smiled, but his expression straightened into something serious. “On a sort of related note, I want to ask you for just one more thing,” he said. He looked right at me. “Don’t refuse the SHIELD detail.”

I let out a tiny little sigh that I wanted to make a much, much bigger sigh, but also didn’t want to antagonize him into an actual fight. “Steve–”

“I mean it,” he said firmly. “I know– maybe it’s overbearing, but Bucky– he is the Winter Soldier. He almost killed Fury. He almost killed me. The mention of his code name terrified Natasha to the point where she couldn’t hide it. He is coming off brainwashing and drugs and training and while I know the man I love is still in there, I also know what can still happen if the wrong people get at him.” He put my hand over his bandaged shoulder. “And I won’t risk you for anything. Not even him.”

It still seemed silly– if Bucky was some big-time assassin, what could a couple of SHIELD agents do other than maybe get killed. If everyone really was as worried for me as they kept saying they were, then I doubted I would be allowed the free rein I (apparently) still had over my life and where I went and what I did.

But…I kept circling around that last part, and the implication it held. That if Steve had to, he’d go to the mat for me. For me. And while it was probably some (more than a little) for Bucky too, since the man Steve knew and loved wouldn’t have wanted to be a killer of random civilians, the sentiment still punched all the hot air right out of me. “Will it really make you feel better?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said without one iota of hesitation.

I sighed for real. “Fine.” It made me uneasy– because if Bucky did come around, I didn’t think SHIELD was going to be as lenient in their use of force as maybe Steve would, given Fury’s entire demeanor at that meeting and how even Phil had looked so tense, but even if Bucky knew about me, I truly believed he didn’t care one way or the other, and that was about the only thing that made this tolerable.

“Thank you.” Steve kissed me. “You won’t even notice them.”

“So everyone keeps telling me, but I don’t think that’s as reassuring as you all think it is,” I said dryly. It got a little chuckle out of him, and an understanding (perhaps commiserating) nod. I sighed. Well, that was that. However…

“I, uh…I do have one other thing about all this to bring up,” I said. I probably would have felt worse about it, but I was entirely drained. “Sharon drove me home after…after I visited you in the SHIELD medical…thing. She mentioned she was waiting to see Peggy in person to tell her, but I…I asked if she would let you give her the news instead.”

He didn’t look angry. He didn’t look anything but exhausted, and stared down at his lap. “I don’t…I don’t know how to even say it.”

“I know.” I took both his hands in both of mine and squeezed. “It’s going to suck, and it’s going to hurt, and you don’t have to, but…I think you should. I think she should hear it from you. I think you should be there for each other.” I swallowed hard. “I’m gonna be here for you for every bit of this, day or night, whatever, whenever you need, but…no one’s going to feel this the way the two of you are. And I think you should. Together.”

He squeezed back, and we just sat like that, for several minutes. Over that time, he slowly folded in on himself, and I leaned on him, and I let his tears flow over my hands like water draining from a cracked cup, until eventually they stopped, and he lifted himself up. Just slightly. “You’re right,” he said. “I want…I need to be the one to tell her.”

I was silent while Steve pulled himself back together. I did try to help dry some of the tears, and he leaned into my hand. “‘Whatever, whenever,’ huh?” He gave me an attempt at a smile. “What if I need company for a run at four a.m.?”

“You know I can’t run,” I said. But since his tone was only barely a joke, I added, “…But, we can walk. And I’ll limit myself to only three complaints.”

He actually perked up. “What if I get you a coffee?”

I tried not to show that I was biting down an internal scream. He was actually going to do this to me, I could already tell. But there was still seriousness even in his teasing, and it wasn’t like he slept great before all this bullshit happened, so, in the interest of making sure I would still be a safe place for my boyfriend to come to while the rest of his life fell down around him, I fucking sucked it up. “Coffee will bring me down to…two complaints.”

His smile grew a little more and he turned his head to give my hand a kiss before he sat back. “I won’t abuse that privilege,” he said, a little too seriously.

“You might have to come shake me awake,” I warned him. “But. You know where I sleep.”

“Mm.” He smiled weakly. “That actually sounds nice right now.”

“Yeah?” It really did, and if Steve thought he could sleep, then that was better than nothing. I stood, held out my hand, and this time he took it easily. “Let’s go to bed.”

~

I actually woke before my alarm. Given the fact we had gone to bed a lot earlier than I would have normally, that wasn’t surprising. That Steve was still asleep, though, was. I kept my victory fist-pump to myself, made sure to turn my alarm off for the day, then carefully considered my escape. Steve’s hand was on my side, and his face was right behind me, but I did some incremental sliding towards the edge of the bed and he didn’t seem to appear bothered, so I kept up my snail’s pace, until I was too far to take his hand any further, very carefully lifted it, and then set it on the bed. Again, he didn’t stir; just let out a little huff of air and snuggled into the pillow. I resisted the urge to give him a kiss, and went to the bathroom to start getting ready.

It was a slower process than usual, but there was only so much I could do to keep quiet. I kept the door shut for my shower, but had to come back out for my clothes. I kept the door halfway shut to block most of the light, and the way it opened kept direct light away from him, so for most of my morning routine I let it be, and just tried to keep it down while I got ready. I was almost done when I banged my hand against the counter hard enough to make me start a, “Fucking–!” before I remembered I was trying to be quiet. I looked over, and sure enough, he was watching me.

“Hey,” I said quietly, mindful that only one eye was open, and shook out my aching limb. “Sorry; I didn’t mean to wake you.” I was going to shut the door, but I stopped and leaned on it instead. “Do you want me to call out of work again?”

He shook his head. “I have some things to take care of today,” he mumbled sleepily, and he smiled. “I like watching you get ready.”

I snorted. “I can spit toothpaste like no other.”

“I was really impressed when you tripped into your pants,” he said. I almost wanted to call out just because he looked so stupid-cute, half-snuggled into the pillow, but if he was going out later anyways, then I might as well go to work.

I flicked off the bathroom light and went over to briefly sit on the bed, leaning down to give him a kiss. “Take your time,” I said.

“Mm hm,” he said, and pulled me in for one more kiss, before letting go. I pulled the blanket up to his shoulder, leaving his arm out the way he preferred, and watched him start to snooze again, before I grabbed my things, turned off the lights, and left him to a peaceful rest.

~

Later that morning, the fly landed on my cubicle wall, just off to the side, within arm’s reach, and stared at me. Or maybe it wasn’t staring at me. But it felt like it was. I scowled just in case and considered another attempt to swat the thing, but I was already testing my neighbor’s patience with how hard I had smacked the wall twice already today, and I knew from experience that all I was going to get for my trouble was a stinging hand and pointed glare from over the other side. So instead, I picked up my phone, took a picture, and sent it to Steve with a simple message.

Me: THIS MOTHERFUCKER

I put my phone down and tried to get back to work, only swatting at the thing when it got too close to my head. (That buzzing right near my ears made me want to chew through my own jaw.)

But then there was a different kind of buzzing. From a different person.

Sam: Hey, so, I try real hard not to snoop… Sam: But I walked in and saw Steve doubled over and I was worried he was crying so I peeked at his phone. Sam: And while now I’m pretty sure he’s laughing– Sam: Still. Continuously. Endlessly. Etc.– Sam: I wanted to ask: Sam: Are YOUokay?

I smiled and chewed on the question while I responded to an urgent email from my boss. And came to a conclusion.

Me: You know Me: I think I will be Me: We both will.

~

When I arrived home, there was no Steve, but the living area had been picked up, the kitchen counters were cleaned off, and there was a bundle of flowers by the sink with a note sticking out of them. And Moo Cow Milk Tea hugging the base of the colorful cellophane-wrapped pot. I picked up the note and read through it.

“Sweetheart–

I’ll be away for a couple of days. I have that thing to take care of. In D.C. I told Sam, and he’s going to stay close by in case I need him. So don’t worry– I’ll be okay. In my absence, I have instructed Moo Cow Milk Tea to take care of the house while I’m gone. He’ll take good care of you ;)

I love you and I’ll be back as soon as I can.

Love, Your boyfriend. AKA Not-a-stupid-stuffed-animal. AKA Steve.”

I laughed even as I rolled my eyes. I almost regretted bringing the damn thing up, but then I picked up Moo Cow Milk Tea and…smelled him. He smelled like Steve. Like Steve’s cologne, when he got stuck going to some stupid-ass fancy party.

I blinked away tears, and hugged the stupid stuffed animal before I grabbed my phone.

Me: Don’t worry Me: You are still number one Me: Moo Cow can’t order takeout when I don’t want to deal with the phone Steve: Ah yes, fingers: why I am the best Steve: Wait Steve: I didn’t mean it like that

I grinned.

Me: No, you’re right. On both counts.

I sent the kissy face. He sent a lot of blushing faces back. I stood there for a moment, mind blanking, until I realized I still didn’t really know what to say.

Me: Say hi to Peggy for me Steve: I will Steve: Take care sweetheart. I’ll be in some SHIELD meetings when I get back, but I meant it: I promise I’ll be back soon

‘Not leaving yet,’ I took that to mean.

Me: Well, call if you need anything Me: ‘In this together’ and all that

Together– in boyfriends-turned-assassins back from the dead, and potential four AM wake-up calls. One of those was decidedly less pleasant than the other, and, in my humble opinion, it wasn’t the one full of knives. Ugh.

For now, I heaved out a giant sigh, then picked up the stuffed animal and flowers all together and took them to the living room. I set the flowers in the middle of the coffee table, where they could look pretty for a few days, and held Moo Cow Milk Tea as I set up a favorite movie guaranteed to make me cry. I was still on edge, and I needed a release to get me back to semi-normal. Nothing about this was going to be easy, even if Bucky showed up randomly tomorrow, so I had to be strong and steady for whatever was coming next. Because I was here, with Steve, for all of it, and knew I would be, no matter what.

~

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[widowsistersandfriends]

Team Bonding

Request: pleaseeee can I request lee!wanda in AoU where she's really shy with the team and pietro mentions she loves being tickled but she gets super shy and embarrassed by it, and so clint absolutely wrecks her trying to get her out of her shell? thank you! <3 @natashaslovxr

Note: Thank you for this very cute request! I am so sorry it took a while to get to, but I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1625

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The Avengers had all gathered together in the compound for a team dinner and game night. The large table was filled with various delicious foods, which made all of their mouths water and stomachs grumble. Wanda was still shy with the team, as she and her brother were fairly new to the crowd. She took a seat quietly next to Pietro and also next to Natasha. 

The dinner consisted of various conversations, laughter and stories. Wanda tried her best to keep up and follow along, but she couldn’t find herself offering more than a few laughs at other people’s funny stories. It’s not that she wasn’t interested or anything. She just felt like she had a hard time fitting in with them. A majority of the team were guys, and Natasha had been with them from the start, so she was pretty much family. 

“So what’s everyone’s favorite game? I want to have some good ideas for when we play afterwards,” Steve said, looking around the table.

“Uno! Monopoly! Sorry! Trouble! Life! Scrabble!” Various answers had come out in shouts around the table, as they were all eager to get their opinions out there.

“What about you Wanda? What’s your favorite game?” Clint asked gently. 

“Umm, I’m not really sure,” the young witch said, looking down at her plate and poking at her food.

“I know her favorite game!” Pietro chimed in. The whole table became interested and waited for more details.

“When Wanda and I were little, we loved to play hide and seek with a twist. Basically, whoever is hiding also hides an item and the seeker has to find the person and the item. First they search for the hider. Then the hider tells them what item they’re looking for and they look for it. Whoever has the fastest time wins,” Pietro explained.

“Why was that your favorite game, Wanda?” Natasha asked curiously. 

“Oh! Well, I guess it was just a fun way for me to bond with Pietro,” Wanda said shyly.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Pietro asked mischievously, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Pietro no! Don’t tell them,” Wanda whined, now gaining the curiosity of the entire table. This was the most she had said at dinner, and the slight panic in her voice got everyone’s attention.

“I think they’d love to knowwwww,” her twin brother teased.

Wanda covered her face in embarrassment, hoping that Pietro was just messing with her and wasn’t actually going to expose her secret. 

“I have a strategy that lets me win every single time,” Pietro bragged, which earned him a sharp pinch to the thigh by his sister.

“Yow! That was so unnecessary,” Pietro yelped, as Wanda gave him a look of warning. She even made her eyes glow red to scare him even though she knew she would never hurt him on purpose. 

The avengers all looked amused, seeing the twins interact in a playful setting. Pietro looked like he was gonna give in and keep her secret. However, he then quickly blurted out her secret before running off with his super speed. “Wanda is super ticklish and loves being tickled, so I use it to get her to confess where she hid her item!” With that, there was a blur and a young witch there with the rest of her team. Wanda looked around fearfully at the other avengers, knowing what was coming next. 

The witch quickly pushed her chair back, making a run for it. She knew those smirks on all of her teammates’ faces meant trouble. She didn’t know where Pietro went, but her main goal was to hide. She figured if anyone found her, she could fly away. The only exception was her brother, who was so fast she wouldn’t have enough time to escape. 

Wanda squeezed herself into the shower and closed the curtain. It wasn't the best hiding spot but it was all she had time for, as she was getting trailed by the other avengers. The tub was not super wide, so she was able to use both hands to hold the ends of the curtain to either side. This way, even if they tried to pull it open, they wouldn’t be able to. Or so she thought.

It was silent for a while, and she had hope that they had given up. Unfortunately just as she got her hopes up, the bathroom lights turned on and her shadow could be seen through the curtain. 

“Well well well, what do we have here?” Clint asked, and Wanda could hear the teasy smirk in his voice. The witch stayed quiet for now.

“Not answering hmm? We’ll get you talking soon,” Natasha said, and Wanda could imagine her facial expression as she said that.

“As captain, I order that we capture the witch and tickle her to pieces,” Steve said, joining in on the fun. The avengers tried tugging on the curtain, which held up nicely due to Wanda holding on to the ends. However, she didn’t realize a small loophole in her plan.

Natasha moved closer to the curtain, before reaching out and tickling Wanda’s ribs through the curtain. The sudden touch to the sensitive area made Wanda immediately jerk away and use her arms and hands to protect herself. With that, the curtain was ripped open by Natasha, as she grabbed Wanda despite her attempt to fly away.

“No! Natasha put me down!” The witch cried. Natasha’s response was just a jab to her ribs, causing her to flail in her arms helplessly.

Natasha laid her down on the bed, sitting behind her and bringing her arms above her head. Clint then came over with a teasing smile. 

“Don’t worry little witch, I’m not going to hurt you. We just want to see you smile and laugh since you’re so shy,” Clint said.

Natasha looked down endearingly at Wanda, reassuring her. 

“Don’t worry. This is all part of the initiation. Breaking people out of their shell,” Natasha said, as the witch attempted to pull away.

“I’m not ticklish!” Wanda blurted out, desperate to get out of this. 

“Nice try. I know we can’t read minds like you but we can definitely read body language,” Clint said, as Natasha lightly tickled her armpit to catch her off guard.

“AHAHA no! Stop that!” Wanda demanded, a deep blush taking over her cheeks. It was clear she was trying to hold her laughter in. 

“But I thought you said you weren’t ticklish?” Clint asked, squeezing her sides.

“IHIHIM NOHOHOT OKAHAHAY,” the witch laughed, as the two of them chuckled at her futile attempt at lying. 

“Sure, we believe you,” Natasha and Clint said at the same time. With that, Clint began squeezing her hips while Natasha continued to tickle her armpits.

“NOHOHO PLEHEHEASE IHIHIM SOHOHORRY,” Wanda cried out, letting her laughs let a little more loose.

“What are you sorry for?” Clint asked, tickling her stomach now.

“FOHOHOR LYIHIHING,” Wanda shouted.

“So you admit you lied?” Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow. The witch shook her head from side to side, gasping with giggles as Clint poked and prodded between her ribs.

They gave the witch a small breather, as she laid there helplessly.

“You guys are so mean,” Wanda whined with a pout.

“Nah, we’re not mean. We just make a good team,” Natasha said with a smirk.

“wE jUsT mAkE a gOoD tEaM,” Wanda said mockingly. 

“Oh you are so asking for it,” Clint said, as he moved down to sit on her shins.

“No no no please! Anywhere but thehEHEHERE CLIHIHINT STAHAHAHAHAHAP,” Wanda screamed with laughter. To add on to the torture, Natasha began to shake her hands into her ribs. 

“PLEHEHEHEASE STAHAHAHAHAP IHIHIM BEHEHEGGING! MEHEHERCY,” Wanda cried out, helplessly trying to squirm to the best of her capabilities. 

“Aww look at you coming out of your shell,” Clint teased, as the witch couldn’t do anything but laugh.

The two of them eventually let her go, realizing that she had met her limit. 

“Don’t ever team up again,” Wanda said to the two older avengers.

“Oh don’t worry, we plan on tickling you a lot more now that we know how ticklish you are,” Natasha said with a grin.

Wanda groaned, as the two of them helped her sit up and catch her breath.

“How about we make a deal,” Clint offered.

“What deal?” Wanda asked.

“If we find Pietro for you and let you tickle him as revenge, will you forgive us?” Clint asked.

Wanda narrowed her eyes at him, knowing she was bound to just get tickled eventually. She saw this as her opportunity to catch one of them off guard. She quickly flipped onto Clint, pinning him to the bed where she just was.

“I think I’d rather tickle you first. After all, you were the one who tickled me,” Wanda said, asking for Natasha to help her.

“What! I’m not the only one! Natasha tickled you too!” Clint protested.

“Not as much as you though. Besides, I’ll get my revenge on Natasha too, don’t worry,” Wanda said confidently.

“Oh really?” Natasha said, giving her sides a good squeezing, causing the witch to immediately take back her words all while squealing and giggling.

“Come on, I’ll help you tickle Clint. It’ll be some good bonding. After all, we need to have lots of team building and teamwork skills so we can work together as avengers,” Natasha said, as Clint began laughing and protesting as the two girls tickled him to pieces. His weak spots were his armpits and knees, much to the girls’ delight. The archer couldn’t help but snort and laugh through the tickle torture. 

Wanda was still somewhat shy at times, but after her tickle torture experience, she became a lot more open and vulnerable around her new family. As for Pietro, Wanda also was able to sharpen her tickling skills, which left the speedy guy in for a day of torture.

[atinylittlepain]

Mr and Mrs Mountain: In Conversation with Steve and Jo Harrington

(National Geographic, 1993)

I sit down with the Harringtons on a sunny day in December in the living room of their Boulder Colorado home. They’ve just moved in, and they apologize for the few stray boxes still littering the dark wood floors.

“We’re not used to having all this space,” admits Steve Harrington, going on to describe how he and his wife spent most of the last three years living in sublets, tents, and the errant hostel, jumping from Boulder, where they’ve decided to call home, to various parts of the world for an awe-inspiring roster of expeditions. But their most frequently-visited location is Everest, of course.

“We leave around mid-March and can usually expect to be back in June. It’s become a pretty well-oiled machine by now.” What Harrington is referring to is their expedition outfit, Summit Trek, that has been in business since 1991. It’s 1993 when I sit down with the Harringtons, and they’re confirming their client list for an Everest expedition… in 1996. The next three years have already been all booked up. Why, you ask, does this young yet affable couple have a veritable waitlist to join their outfit? It’s simple, they’ve never lost a single client on any of their ascents, a rare feat for repeat Everest expedition guides. 

“We really take a lot of pride in the safety of our trips. There’s more and more outfits every year that are willing to take clients up Everest, but it’s always been the getting back down that’s the tricky part,” says Jo Harrington, sitting on the arm of their worn leather couch, her arm draped loosely over her husband’s shoulders. She carries herself with a great deal more poise than her twenty-six years may allow her, a sort of wry steel to the way she speaks, chin tilted down, daunting and demure at the same time, as if Catherine Hepburn and Clint Eastwood had a lovechild with a particular athletic prowess. She wears her hair in two short braids, flyaways framing sharp eyes and dark brows. In a pair of rumpled khaki cargo pants and a thermal with the patagonia logo stitched into the chest (she has been sponsored by the brand for four years now), there is still a strange elegance to her, carried in quick hand gestures and a permanently rasped voice. First brought into the climbing world’s consciousness at the age of sixteen for taking home gold in the 1983 Climbing National Championships in her age division, Harrington, nee Taylor, would go on to rack up an impressive resume of climbs. She currently has conquered five of the seven continental summits, and still holds the women’s speed record for climbing El Cap. 

“I’m going for Steve’s record the next time I get out to Yosemite,” quips Jo while her husband grins up at her. He currently holds the men’s speed record on El Cap. 

Indeed, the Harringtons have become darlings of the climbing world, meeting in 1990 on both of their first ascents of Everest, and falling into a whirlwind relationship that would see them going into business together within the year as co-guides of their very own expedition outfit.

“I just wouldn’t leave her alone, basically. Asked her where she was going after Katmandhu and she said Boulder, and I said alright, I’m going to follow this woman wherever she leads me.”

“He was easy to be around. To climb with, to talk with, to suffer with. I knew that I could trust him as my partner from the start.” And that trust Jo speaks to seems to be the secret ingredient to what has made their outfit so successful. 

“For an ascent to go as well as it can, there has to be almost seamless communication between guides. There can’t be any doubt that you have each other’s backs, that you’re going to do your job to the best of your ability because that’s the level of care and respect you have for each other,” says Steve, tucking a long brown lock of hair behind his ear. He is the picture of a dirtbag, reformed (his words), with his long hair and single silver hoop in his ear, a perpetual tan to his skin from all the years spent out in the weather, a ruggedly bright smile and dark eyes that crinkle knowingly as he speaks. He plays with the wedding band on his left ring finger, spinning it around as he talks with a quiet confidence. Harrington rose up in the climbing world through a sort of scrappy perseverance, spending his teen years hoofing it around the United States and climbing whatever he could get his hands on as fast as he could. Besides El Cap, he currently holds the speed record for the Moose’s Tooth in Alaska, as well as for Kings Peak in Utah. These days, he’s less interested in speed than he is in altitude. 

“There’s no going fast on something like Everest, not if you want to come back down in one piece.” Jo nods at her husband’s words, and it is clear that this couple holds a deep respect for the mountain they summit every year, with a group of nine people that pay them to lead them to the peak. It would seem this respect is also part of what has brought them so much success as expedition guides, with Outside Magazine declaring Summit Trek as the “premier” Everest outfit for climbers who want the best of the best experience on the mountain. The going rate for an individual to join one of their expeditions certainly reflects this reputation. Excluding airfare and personal equipment, it will run you $75,000 to join a Summit Trek expedition. For context, this is almost double what most outfits charge, and $10,000 more than what Adventure Consultants, one of the other more reputable outfits, ask. When asked about this price point, Jo smiles.

“We understand that it’s a steep price we’re asking, but it reflects the quality of the experience we provide. People also have to understand that a good portion of that money is put right back into the business for permits and equipment. You get what you pay for, and when it comes to something like Everest, I’d like to think people are willing to pay more in order to get more out of the experience.” Her argument certainly seems to stand. Currently, with the additional help of infamous climber Eddie Munson as their other co-guide, respected mountaineer Robin Buckley running base camp communication, and climber-turned-physician Nancy Wheeler, the Summit Trek team has successfully taken 27 people to the Everest summit and brought them back down safely, with plans to take another 27 up in the next three years. 

I asked the couple, who have now been married for just shy of a year, what it’s been like working together in such a dangerous context. They both seem to find this question amusing, sharing a quick 

glance between them before Jo answers the question.

“I know I wouldn’t do this work with anyone else. We’re partners in every sense of the word and I love getting to do this work with my best friend.” Steve rests a hand on her knee, nodding and adding his own thoughts.

“Yes, it’s dangerous, but we’re a particular kind of people that seek out that kind of danger. We get to see and do crazy things together, it’s amazing.   I think we’re very lucky to get to do this.” 

My last question for the seemingly invincible couple, do they see themselves slowing down any time soon? Jo laughs.

“Well, you can only go up that mountain so many times before it takes its pound of flesh from you. We’re certainly not going to do this forever, and I think we’re definitely starting to think about putting down more roots for the future. But for now, we really love the work we do.”

...

series masterlist

[normaltothemax]

@dramatisperscnae

The night was going well. Really well. They’d gotten takeout from Dick’s favorite Mediterranean place, had been joking and laughing basically the entire time, conversation flowing easily as usual. Clint was off for the next two weeks, and while Dick would have his patrols, they had lots of time to spend together. He was going to start getting ready for his patrol soon—Clint was well aware he had a ticking clock over his head, the ring a heavy weight in his pocket. And yet here he was, head in Dick’s lap while the other man carded a hand through his hair, Clint-didn’t-even-know-what playing on TV.

He should’ve planned a speech, should’ve come up with something to say, but every time he’d tried, it just never felt like him. Pulling out the ring, he kept it hidden in his hand, before flicking it up into the air in front of Dick’s face, fully expecting him to catch it. “Marry me,” he said once he did. Realizing a little belatedly he probably shouldn’t be laying down for this, Clint quickly got upright, pulling one leg up onto the couch to turn and face Dick properly.

“I love you, Dick. I love you more than I ever thought was possible to love someone. You’re just…you’re my person. Everything feels right, when I’m with you. I know I’m a fucking disaster, and half the time I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m not sure about a lot of things, but the one thing I’m always sure of is you. I want you. All of you. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you and I…” Fuck, he really should’ve come up with some kind of speech. With a self-deprecating smile and a laugh huffed out through his nose, he pushes a hand through his hair. “I know that was probably the world’s shittiest proposal. I should’ve…should’ve taken you out to a restaurant or something, but I couldn’t wait any longer. So…marry me?”

[artficlly]

face the music (chapter 5)

Music College Marvel AU - Chapter 5

!frat!musician!bucky x !frat!musician!steve x !musician!femreader

Warnings: ANGST, violence, john walker (lol), mentions choking, swearing, implications of previous abuse, victim blaming, some fluff

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: im so excited for the revenge plan to unfold!! i hope you all enjoy and thank you for all the likes and reblogs !! not proof read, sorry for any typos!

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You were sitting in one of the practice rooms on campus, lazily playing the piano to pass the time. Behind you Sharon, Scott, Peter and MJ were all crowded around a lyric book. Their group had decided on performing an original for the assignment. They had spent the last hour arguing over lyrics and rhythm. Meanwhile you amused yourself with the piano. 

The meeting with the boys yesterday had gone fine, much to your relief. After the conversation you had you felt a little more at ease around them (That’s if you weren’t kicking yourself for staring at their stupid attractive faces and bodies for too long). The four of you had sat around listening to different rock songs, ranging from classic rock to more punk sounds. You had made a list of artists whose styles you would be most comfortable replicating. The next step was for you to actually practice. 

That’s how you had ended up in the practice room, you had intended to mess around singing. You were trying to nail the raspy aesthetic a lot of female rock singers had. Sharon and Scott had heard you and come in to be nosy. It had all gone downhill from there. You had barely practiced, instead crawling back to the comfort of the piano. Due to all the arguing in the background you doubted you would’ve been able to focus on singing anyway. 

Besides the assignment, most of your worries lay with Loki. You still had yet to speak to him about everything - if anything you had been avoiding it. You weren’t sure how to bring up that (despite his current condition) you were a bit mad at him on Steve and Bucky’s behalf. You had seen him briefly that morning, face all cut and bruised, split lip and a tender nose recovering from being set. You had basically dashed out the door, much to Thor and Jane’s confusion. 

“That doesn’t flow at all!” You heard Sharon shout from somewhere behind you, Peter groaning in response. You just chuckled, continuing to play a soft melody. Surely some calming piano music would stop them from trying to kill each other? That was probably hopeful thinking.

“We should’ve just done a cover,” MJ mutters, causing Sharon to make an annoyed sound. 

“Nah, I’m enjoying this wayyy too much,” Scott says. You can practically imagine him relaxing on the couch, arms spread out over the back watching the chaos unfold. Scott always had a rather relaxed approach to life, which was in stark contrast to Sharon and Peter.

“Well, I’m not!” Peter protests, worry in his voice “We gotta nail this, we haven’t even played anything yet!”

“Chill Parker, we still have, what, a week and a half?” Scott replies, you can practically hear the grin in his voice. Peter, ever the perfectionist, was probably shitting himself wondering how he was going to get a good grade. That and the fact that he liked to be prepared for every assignment a week in advance. 

Peter doesn’t get to reply as the door to the practice room swings open with a thud.

“Hey, can’t you see this room is in use?” Sharon growls, you just roll your eyes and keep playing. Probably some freshmen who don’t understand booking rooms yet. You’d had a few of those throughout the semester. 

“Siren.” The similar deep voice calls, you feel yourself stiffen, fingers pausing their movements. Why was Bucky here? He and a few of the others had a class to attend to, which is why you had been instructed to practice singing on your own - much to your relief. 

Swiveling in the stool you sat on, you turn to face the door with a frown. In the doorway stood Bucky, Steve, Sam and Clint. Both Bucky and Steve wore concerned expressions, like there was something terribly wrong that you didn’t know. Unease rose in your stomach. What had happened? Your mind flew in several directions, did something happen with Loki? Thor? Had Stark said or done something again? You had mentioned to Bucky and Steve in passing that you were prepping for the meeting discussing John’s suspension. You had filed an official report, and with the help of the boys you could make a decent case for John’s suspension. 

“What?” You ask cautiously, Sharon and the others watch the exchange like hawks. You had explained to Sharon that you were on neutral grounds… for now. Though, you didn’t expect her to let go of her distaste anytime soon. Bucky moves closer into the room towards you, Steve hot on his heels. 

“Stark and the Board, they had the suspension meeting without us.” Bucky says, trying to keep his voice low. Everyone hears anyway. Nausea washes over you in a wave, tension squeezing your body. That’s why they both looked so stressed, and a part of you already knew what the outcome of that meeting would be. Even as you spoke with a shaky voice, deep inside you knew.

“The verdict?” You ask.

“His ban lifts tomorrow. He’s not getting suspended, just a warning.” 

There is a short pause before the room explodes. Sharon is screaming about how she’s going to kill Stark and John. Scott and Sam are grumbling quietly to each other, while Peter gives MJ a horrified expression. 

“What-!”

“They can’t just do that-?”

“What do you mean just a warning-?”

“His dad paid his way out again didn’t he-”

You can’t even find the energy to react, to scream, to cry. All of the voices of your friends melt into one. You feel numbness sweeping up from your toes all the way to your scalp. It was happening again. And it would happen again and again and again. You were trapped in this cycle, you were always stuck here because of him, because of John. You were silenced, another flame snuffed out during the fight. Maybe you were your mothers corpse, maybe you had never survived him. 

Inside your head all you could hear was roaring, angry piano keys overlapping each other into a nightmarish symphony. Voices all screaming over and over and over until you couldn’t even make out what you were trying to think anymore, it was just pure wrath and white noise. 

Your eyes meet Bucky’s, then Steve’s. You swear there is fear in their gaze as they observe your demeanor. 

Without a word, you reach into your bag. Digging past your folders of sheet music, you dig out a smaller, thinner folder. Inside were all your notes for the suspension meeting, you had stayed up half the night compiling all the details. It recounted your experience, what had happened to Loki. It had Bucky and Steve’s personal accounts of the situation. You had even gone as far as to include details of fights you had previously witnessed John get into on campus. You weren’t pushing for his expulsion, rather his accountability. And for him to get the help he needed to deal with his alcoholic and violent tendencies. 

“Y/N-” Sharon called to you, but you were already out the door. 

“Fuck.” You heard Steve hiss, then the sounds of footsteps as the two of them followed you down the hall. You didn’t slow down or stop to allow them to catch up, instead directly marching through the twisting halls towards the main office. 

“Y/N wait-” Bucky calls out to you, but you’ve already slipped past Stark’s assistant and stormed into his office. 

Stark gives you a look of slight surprise. The way he is holding himself, leaning back in his leather chair, nursing a glass of whiskey… he obviously knew to expect you. You slam the folder down onto his desk. He arches an eyebrow at it, then at Steve and Bucky who stand in the doorway. 

“Come in, close the door behind you.” Stark says with a sigh. You cross your arms over your chest, tapping your foot as you wait for the boys to move. 

“You had the suspension meeting without us.” You hiss, you see Steve and Bucky hesitantly move to your side without being too close. You wondered how they had picked up on how you didn’t like to be touched so quickly. You were probably touch starved, in retrospect. But the idea of anyone touching you when you felt like this was repulsive. 

“The board decided it was a private matter.” Stark says, taking a sip from his whiskey. He was so calm, relaxed even. It boogled your mind how easily he could dismiss your feelings.

“Bullshit!” You practically explode, “John Walker’s father paid them off, and you know it.”

Stark assesses you with another sigh, leaning forward to flick through some of the pages of the file. He barely skims the words, hardly taking the time to read a single word. He doesn’t care, you realize. He never actually fucking cared.

“The board decided that because this was his first offense, that it only warranted a warning.” Stark says, you scoff with a shake of your head. 

“First offense? You and everyone else in this school know this isn’t the first time.” You spit. You can feel Steve nervously shift beside you. You can’t tell if he’s more nervous for himself, or for you. He had shown concern for your scholarship before. Yelling at the head of the school probably wasn’t the best idea to ensure you kept said scholarship. 

“It’s the first time Walker has ever been reported. The board only deals with official reports, not rumors.” Stark says, closing the file without a second look. Of course they would use some excuse like that, it was easier to just ignore all the mounting evidence and make a profit. 

“I want a second suspension meeting. One where I can testify.” You say, standing your ground. You swear you can see Bucky send Steve a smile, like he’s proud of you. Or that he agrees with what you said. You don’t put much thought into it.

“I mean, I can ask. It’s up to the board,” Stark offers, leaning back in his chair. You know the offer is empty, he’s just pretending to care. The whole richboy, rockstar persona was seeping through, he was looking down his nose at you like you were just another groupie to use and shake off.

“Seriously?” You scoff.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. My hands are tied.” Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Bucky’s jaw clench a bit at the word sweetheart. Fucking patronising. In any other situation you would’ve flushed red in embarrassment, would’ve backed away the moment you were spoken down to. 

“So I’m just supposed to go back to normal? Act like one of my classmates didn’t try to choke me to death?” You say pointedly. Bucky shifts closer to you, like he’s expecting to have to hold you back. Although, from the look in his eyes, the way his hands are curled into fists… maybe you would be the one holding him back. Stark sighs, shrugging. 

“I don’t know. Maybe just try going to less parties? I’m sure a smart girl like you can avoid riling him up again.” You don’t realize that you’re gripping onto Steve’s arm for support until he moves closer to you. It’s almost like an invisible boundary has been crossed, that you reaching for him allowed him to step as close as he had wanted to. You usually didn’t like touch, being crowded by people you didn’t know well. This felt different, this felt comforting. You’re sure if you hadn’t leaned into him, he would’ve snapped at Stark. You can practically feel the waves of resentment rolling off of him. 

“We should get going, we have to go get lunch.” Bucky speaks up, his voice sounds strained. He’s holding back from yelling, you can tell. “When will we hear back? About if there will be a second meeting?” 

“Tomorrow morning.” Stark replies, sliding the file towards Bucky who catches it easily. None of you speak or say goodbye as you leave the room. Bucky gently places a hand on your shoulder, guiding you into the hallway wordlessly. 

*

The next morning, Steve and Bucky are waiting for you like fucking guard dogs. They both were on edge, much like yourself. You had barely got any sleep, tossing and turning in your sheets late into the night. After Stark’s office, the two of them had eaten lunch with you. It had been quite a tense, you barely ate a bite. You felt sick, fucking disgusted at the idea that John would be allowed anywhere near you. Despite your quietness, Steve had muttered and mumbled the entire time about how badly he wanted to kill both Stark and John. Bucky had just watched you carefully, his worried expression growing deeper the more time went on. 

The sight of them waiting outside had melted away some of your stress, which hurt to admit. They looked so fucking hot, bundled up to avoid the morning chill, worried yet happy expressions as soon as they spotted you. Despite your exhaustion, you had managed a friendly smile and a quiet ‘good morning’. 

They escorted you to Stark’s office where the unfortunate news met you. The board had denied your request, you weren’t surprised. After some thought, you knew that the Board was firmly bought out by John’s father. There was an air of  defeated disappointment as the three of you slowly headed to class. The plan was to meet Sam in the main classroom when he arrived, before the four of you headed to a practice room you had booked in yesterday. 

“Siren,” Bucky spoke up for the first time since Stark’s office, you looked at him with a hum, still half lost in thought. “You’re gonna keep trying, right? With this whole suspension thing?”

You chewed on that question for a second. A part of you said yes, but the other was so tired, so exhausted. It was the part of your brain that always lay down and took the beating whenever things got hard. There was always that rage, that anger burning inside of you. But sometimes you didn’t know what to do with it, or how to manifest it into something real. It was just always there, screaming inside your head for you to do something other than quietly survive. 

“I guess. I mean, it’s hard to know where to go from here? I guess just keep collecting evidence, encourage people to actually report him…” You trail off with a sigh, Steve frowns at you. 

“You know we’re here to support you right? To help you.” Steve offers, bumping his shoulder with yours. You give him a small smile in return. You hope he doesn’t see the small blush that spreads over your cheeks. You were glad that in Stark’s office - when you had shut down and leaned on Steve for support - that you hadn’t gushed like a fucking schoolgirl. That would’ve been embarrassing. Maybe the shock of it all had helped cover your satisfaction that they once again came to support you. 

“Just because you want to get on my good side, Rogers?” You tease, he rolls his eyes at you. 

“I would like to think we would’ve helped you, even if we weren’t the cause of this.” Bucky offers. Your heart skips a beat. You disliked how your body responded to even the slightest kindness from them. 

“It’s fucked up,” Steve agrees. You hope neither of them have noticed how hot your face has become. 

“Yup,” you say, keeping your voice steady. “Definitely fucked up.” 

You smile back at them as you push open the classroom door. You are too oblivious, too content watching Bucky and Steve to be aware of your surroundings. You don’t catch the tension in the room, the uncomfortable looks on Yelena and Kate’s faces from across the room. You don’t get a chance to feel the foreboding dread in your stomach before you’re shoved into a nearby wall. 

“There you are, you fuckin bitch.” John hisses at you, forearm pressed against your collarbone as he holds you against the wall. “I heard you’ve been trying to get me suspended.”

You are frozen in a mixture of horror and shock. That face, those hands. He’s been stuck in your head since the weekend. His hands on your throat, his body pressed against yours. You would be able to feel those imprints forever, his violence permanently branded on your body. Except the brand was invisible to everyone but you. The panic, the fear, you can feel it bubbling into your throat- 

John was against you for less than a few seconds before he was violently ripped away and pushed across the room. Chairs tumbled across the floor as John’s body fell on top of them, he doesn’t complain, only letting out a low chuckle. Kate yelps from across the room, basically climbing into Yelena’s lap. All you can do is gasp in a sharp breath, hand flying to your chest out of instinct. 

“Don’t even fucking try it, Walker,” Bucky growls, putting himself between you and John. Steve is at your side as well, eyes scanning your face with distress. He doesn’t seem to want to touch you while you’re so panicked. How did he know? Did he notice all the times you flinched or cowered away? You can’t help but be thankful as you try to catch your breath and calm the panic attack brewing in your chest. 

“Oh? You’re getting involved in this too, Barnes?” John laughs bitterly at Bucky as he staggers to his feet. He looks as rough as he did the last time you saw him, two black eyes from his broken nose, a half healed split lip, bruising across his left cheekbone. 

“Get the fuck out of here before I make you.” Bucky snarls roughly, you watch as John sizes him up and decides better of it. That is probably the smartest decision John had ever made, not picking a fight with the man with a metal fucking arm. John just shrugs with another dark chuckle, storming out the classroom door. He nearly bowls straight into Sam, who takes one look at John, Bucky, the state of the classroom and whistles lowly. 

“I don’t even want to know what I missed.” Sam comments. Bucky just laughs at that, which relieves some of the tension in your chest.    

“You okay?” Steve murmurs from beside you, you had almost forgotten he was there in your panic. His voice is low, you can almost hear how it would rumble in his chest. The look he gives you is heated, you have to look away for a moment and lean all your weight on the wall behind you. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes to the fucking rescue, once again. 

You ignore the surprised and intrigued looks Yelena and Kate are giving you as you look back at Steve. You gently grip his forearm with your hand and offer him a weak smile. 

“I am. Thank you.” 

*

Tucked into bed, you had found yourself beginning to spiral again. You had repeated the motions of going to bed only to toss and turn, lost in your own winding thoughts. Stark, John, the fight, the way Bucky and Steve had defended you… it all swirled around in your brain over and over. Everytime you closed your eyes you saw John’s face, cruel and sneering. Or you saw Bucky’s jaw muscles tight with rage. Or Steve, flush with concern. Or you saw him. 

It was pointless, you thought, as you stared at your open laptop. You had spent the last two hours rewatching all the streams you had been featured in, then all the streams Steve and Bucky were in. You read the live chat, the comments beneath videos and posts online. They were all so happy, so excited to see where your music would take you. 

The stream where you had sung and played the piano was on repeat, rereading the positive comments of ‘omg this girl can sing!’ with all the heart and thumbs up emojis. Yet, why did you feel empty? Why did you feel ready to give it all up? You stared at those bruises on your neck in the mirror, rewatched the video of you being choked in the frat kitchen, re-lived the memories of everytime Stark had dismissed you. It all felt helpless, pointless. What was the point of going to this prestigious college if you were so miserable? Yes, all your friends made you happy. Steve and Bucky made you happy. But could that happiness outweigh the pain branded onto your soul? The anxiety, the pure fucking dread everytime you thought of John or him. You had thought you were safe. 

Maybe it was time to give up fighting. 

So there you sat, staring at your laptop screen. After all the videos and livestreams, you opened your email and began typing. The words stared back at you now. 

‘Request to formally drop out of Stark’s College of Music’

‘Request to revoke current scholarship’

‘Thank you for all the wonderful and life changing experiences’

You bit your lip as you hesitated, cursor hovering over the ‘send’ button. Were you really going to throw it all away? Start your life over, again? It was all you knew, it was how you had survived. Your mother died, so you became a pianist. He had ruined you, so you moved across the country. John had won the Board, so you would drop out. 

The noise was back in your head, begging, screaming for you to think. To try, to fight.

The ding of your phone shook you from your trance. Your eyes flickered over to the screen, an Instagram notification staring back at you. 

mariaxhill has sent you a message request

You frown at your phone. Maria Hill? Why was that name familiar to you? Unlocking your phone, you open the message. 

Hey this is Maria. Idk if you know me but i used to date john walker. I heard about whats been happening. Can we talk? i want to help.

Your breath catches in your throat, a small smile spreading across your face. Without a second thought you delete the unsent email. 

This fight wasn’t just about you, there were others too.

Chapter 6

[stardroplovebirds]

The Start of the Lovebirds

This blog is basically all about my (accidental) fixation on shipping Shane and Emily from Stardew Valley together! It is a self-indulgent, alternative universe story blog. It's a work in progress still, but everything else should be pretty self-explanatory.

Now, because I know people are going to ask... Here is the origin story of why I ship this ship, so I am not bombarded:

For a while, I was reluctant to get into Stardew. The gameplay is just not my thing, it's a very difficult game for me to play (ADHD and all, and generally not being good at games) - but I have someone in my life who (even when we first met them) was fixated heavily on Stardew. Heavily.

Eventually, we cracked, and got into the game's lore. We love stories, and we have some… criticisms about the game, but overall, we found ourselves sympathizing with everyone's Favorite Boy: Shane.

Except he was nothing like how the fandom (from our perspective) painted him as. In fact, we had realized there were a lot of misinterpretations about him… but that's not the point.

Whilst playing a round of the game amongst friends (cuz playing it by ourselves was a bust) - we had gotten to the Flower Dance. Very early event in the game, happens near the end of Spring. It is a dance where a majority of the characters pair up and do a traditional dance. Adorable and sweet.

Now, this is where it came to our attention that everyone was very specifically put together with character's that are relevant to them and or characters that parallel one another. Aka "Straight Passing Central" (everyone in Stardew is not straight, chill)

Notably, Shane and Emily dance together.

This is NOT where the shipping first began - no, the shipping bug had not bitten just yet. But we had seen the patterns of everyone being put together just as we were learning all the characters.

It was during a conversation on call that we had first uttered the very concepts of shipping any of the suggested couples together. Everyone giving their opinions on the lineup and how they felt about them.

The overall motive was all of them were ok. They were decent. Predictable, maybe a little cliche, but could work. Some worked less than others, but all of them - at the very least - we could see working somehow some way.

And thus sprang the in-depth conversation of Shane and Emily being together.

Shane and Emily being paired together as friends is what interested me the most at the start. Because, as mentioned before, they are parallels.

Emily is a very spiritual being, carefree and free from the burdens of a horrible job. She works at the Saloon, and very happily so - it being a very community-based job. There she can be in tune with the people she lives with around her as well as having a very favorable boss to look after her. (Seriously, we stan Gus in this house)

Whereas Shane is a nearly hallowed man she just so happens to see every day - a man who is overworked and exhausted and in such a depressive state about the life around him that he's grown rather uncaring.

And it is crucial to remember that these two are established as friends, even outside the walls of Shane simply being asked to dance despite that seeming way out of his comfort zone.

It's worthy to assume they are friends due to the very fact that Shane goes to the Saloon every single day. A place Emily works. And there is evidence that Shane is kind and friendly towards her.

Examples include:

In a heart event with Clint, Clint is observing the two of them talking and the entire point of Clint's discomfort about the pair is that they talk to each other with such ease. Despite… Shane being who he is. Shane is even the one to initiate further conversation, prodding further about her day and how she's been.

And in a heart event with Emily, where she's doing her clothing therapy session - Shane is there. Why… why on Earth would Shane be here if he weren't one of the people formally invited? He could easily think something like this is stupid and not attend - but not only does he very willingly participate in this event - he is the first person to be called on to get an outfit. (Which… holy shit.)

In an event with Shane, sometime after he decides to take on therapy for his habits - there is an event where you see Shane with a new camera, accompanied by Emily and Clint. (Unfortunately, in most of the events or background scenes with Emily and Shane, Clint is… loitering.)

They're all hanging out, and obviously Emily was asked to do something like this and agreed. So they're… friends. There are multiple settings where even if you just squint, you could see that they're friends.

Like at the bar, Shane stands by the fireplace and the closest person to him is mostly Emily. And Clint is sitting… right where he can observe them.

Or like, when having a wedding, the two of them are standing side by side… other than Clint standing right in the middle of them-- Seriously, what the fuck is up with th--

Anyway, it's sort of implied that along with the whole… Clint having a crush on Emily thing - that Shane is implied to be "that guy in the way", "that guy that girls prefer over nice guys", that sorta schtick… Because Shane is a bit gruff, and Clint is… in his own words, a nice guy.

So that got more and more gears turning. In the call, we slapped down some concepts on how the two would interact as friends and well… slowly it became more of a fascination of their relationship, escalating the thought… "It could work romantically…"

And now, about a week or so later, I have developed enough brain worms to create an au (mostly made up of random rambles on Discord) of these two being a couple. I went down the irony to sincerity pipeline…

I hope you've enjoyed this long ramble post--