#and tony gets more development than steve

[florida3exclamationpoints]

Lowkey. Just. Do Not enjoy watching Civil War.

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #32

It all began when Dr. Jasmine Fenton—Jazz, to the brave and traumatized—walked into the Avengers Compound in five-inch block heels, a blood-red blazer, and a clipboard with everyone’s most damning psychological profiles printed in 12-point Times New Roman. She had been hired because, quote, “the last six therapists either quit, cried, or developed their own hero complexes.” SHIELD had gone through the best and brightest the world had to offer. They even tried a Wakandan empathy AI once. It cried. The AI cried.

So when Jazz Fenton walked in, armed with a dual PhD in clinical psychology and trauma therapy, the last thing they expected was that she’d personally know what hero trauma looked like. But she did. Her baby brother was a half-ghost interdimensional guardian who once got hit by a nuke and walked it off. Her parents were mad scientists who tried to dissect him. And her godfather was an immortal corporate vampire with a crown kink and a habit of kidnapping. She had seen things. She understood. And more importantly, she didn’t care. She wasn’t here to coddle them.

“Dr. Fenton,” Steve Rogers greeted politely that first morning.

“Please, call me Jazz,” she said with a smile that made even Natasha lower her coffee. “Or Doctor Fenton if you’re about to lie to me.”

Tony Stark made the mistake of raising an eyebrow. “Oh? What are you gonna do, psychoanalyze me into submission?”

She flipped to his file. “‘Severe abandonment issues, destructive self-worth tendencies, martyr complex buried under layers of narcissistic deflection, sleeps three hours a night, probably cries in the shower—’”

“I don’t cry in the shower!”

“That is because you don’t shower, Mr. Stark.”

That shut him up.

From that day onward, fear fell over the Avengers Compound like a thick, fragrant fog of anxiety. Jazz was everywhere. One moment she was on the roof with Clint discussing his grief over Budapest, the next she was in the lab with Bruce making him cry, and the moment after that she had Loki in handcuffs—not because he was arrested, but because he asked for them.

“I just think maybe I’m too attached to the idea of being hated,” Loki muttered, slouched on the therapy couch.

“You are,” Jazz replied, checking her notes. “You’re addicted to conflict because you’ve built your identity on being an outsider. Every time you’re offered genuine affection, you self-sabotage. You’re not a villain, you’re just a lonely youngest child.”

“I—” Loki blinked. “That is horrifically accurate. And incredibly offensive.”

“Cry harder, Sparklehorn.”

Thor, meanwhile, loved her. Adored her. Followed her around like an emotional support golden retriever with lightning powers. He kept trying to give her things—golden goblets, fur cloaks, an entire goat—until one day she casually picked up Mjolnir while fixing a crooked painting and everyone screamed.

“How the fuck—” Sam Wilson shouted.

“Why can she do that?” Peter Parker asked from the ceiling.

“Therapists shouldn’t be worthy!” Tony wailed. “It’s not natural!”

Jazz shrugged and handed the hammer back to Thor. “I was forged in the fires of Midwestern neglect and ghost radiation. You think Odin can break me? Try surviving your brother getting publicly disemboweled by a government robot while your parents take notes.”

She had no chill. None. She was the only person who called Wanda out on her grief projection, made Bucky talk about his repressed ballet skills, and forced Steve to draw a family tree so she could scream “YOUR ENTIRE FRIEND GROUP IS CODEPENDENT.”

“Group therapy!” she declared one Tuesday.

“No,” said literally everyone.

“Too bad. Show up or I will personally guilt you in front of the media using your own trauma receipts.”

And they did. They came. They came because they were afraid.

Tony sat with arms crossed. “This is stupid.”

“Tell that to your inner child.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Exactly.”

Clint sighed. “This is worse than Budapest.”

“Everything is worse than Budapest,” Natasha replied.

Wanda blinked slowly. “I think I just astrally projected my own anxiety. It’s hovering above me like a raincloud.”

Jazz didn’t even blink. “Let it hover. Let it watch you cry. Maybe it’ll finally grow up.”

Civil War? Canceled.

No one dared fight each other under Jazz’s watch. When tensions began rising between Tony and Steve over the Sokovia Accords, she locked them in a soundproof room with juice boxes and didn’t let them out until they hugged it out like the emotionally repressed golden retrievers they were.

“I will tranquilize you both,” she warned through the door. “I have the darts and the upper body strength. Don’t tempt me.”

They made up within the hour.

At one point, Nick Fury tried to get involved. He barged into one of Jazz’s sessions like he still ran SHIELD.

“What the hell kind of therapy involves throwing knives at a target while crying?” he demanded.

Jazz, unfazed, handed him a stress knife. “Want to try?”

He did. And then immediately rebooked weekly appointments.

By week four, the compound was transformed. Hulk was journaling. Peter was actually doing his homework. Wanda was learning healthy coping mechanisms that didn’t involve mind-controlling entire suburbs. Clint and Natasha were having pillow talks about emotional vulnerability. Even Loki was crocheting.

“Do you know what I’ve done?” he whispered as he stitched a duck.

“I’ve read your file,” Jazz said. “And your Tumblr tag. You’re not special.”

“I am special—”

“You’re traumatized, sweetie.”

Meanwhile, Tony—still deeply suspicious—began following her around trying to find proof she was a Hydra sleeper agent. What he found instead was her absolutely unhinged family.

“You’re related to who?” he asked over coffee one morning.

Jazz sighed. “My little brother is Danny Phantom, ghost-powered superhero and part-time physics major. My godfather is Vlad Masters, ex-billionaire and full-time supervillain with a complex. My parents are Jack and Maddie Fenton.”

Tony blinked. “The guys who duct-taped a rocket to a lawnmower and called it science?”

“The very same.”

“No wonder you’re like this.”

Jazz nodded. “Exactly. I was forged in chaos and trauma. Now I’m here to fix you.”

“I don’t want to be fixed.”

“Too bad. I’ve already started rebuilding your psyche.”

“What does that mean—”

“Check your inner monologue. Notice how it’s stopped calling you a worthless meat puppet?”

Tony screamed.

Even Doctor Strange, who allegedly had the answers to the universe, found himself in a corner drinking tea and rethinking the way he suppressed his emotions with sarcasm and facial hair.

“You’re not mystical, Stephen,” Jazz told him. “You’re just emotionally constipated.”

“I literally astral project.”

“Cool. Now try emotional projection. Maybe apologize to Wong.”

“…Wong is asleep.”

“Wake him up.”

By month two, even the press noticed. The Avengers were glowing. Smiling. Making eye contact during press conferences instead of brooding like middle school theater kids.

“What changed?” a reporter asked.

Tony grabbed the mic. “Her name is Jazz Fenton and she scares the hell out of us.”

Steve nodded solemnly. “She made me cry six times in one session. I told her about my dad.”

“She made me draw my feelings,” Clint added.

“I finally cried about Pietro,” Wanda whispered. “In public. It felt amazing. I think I vomited emotions.”

“Dr. Fenton helped me write a song about my grief,” Thor said proudly. “It’s a power ballad. With goats.”

And then came the incident.

The one time the Avengers tried to disobey her. Sam and Bucky had been arguing again. Loudly. And somewhere in the chaos, someone dared say, “It’s not like Jazz can stop us.”

Wrong.

So, so wrong.

Jazz calmly walked into the sparring room, confiscated Bucky’s knife mid-twirl, took Sam’s wings with one hand, and sat both men down with the force of divine intervention.

“You two,” she said in a voice that made the walls tremble, “are not enemies. You are trauma-bonded enemies-to-friends-to-exes-to-besties. You are a trope. You are a fanfiction tag. You are not about to regress into kindergarten slap fights because one of you forgot the others’ favorite breakfast order.”

“…He forgot my birthday,” Sam muttered.

“Because he has memory trauma! You have it too! You both need to go on a spa day and cry it out in a hot tub like normal people.”

And they did.

They actually did.

The day Jazz left for a conference—just one day—the entire compound fell into shambles. Loki started monologuing again, Peter accidentally built a sentient AI who wrote poetry about death, Wanda started glowing red again, and Tony tried to weaponize emotional damage via sarcastic limericks.

The moment she came back, they all lined up like chastised children.

“What did I say about emotionally projecting without supervision?” she asked.

“Don’t do it,” they chorused.

“And?”

Peter sniffled. “We missed you.”

“Damn right you did.”

Jazz smiled, terrifying and fond, and flipped her clipboard. “Now. Who wants to talk about their mother?”

And the Avengers, Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, sat down.

Because nothing—not Chitauri, not Ultron, not even Thanos—was scarier than the therapist who could lift Mjolnir and your deepest childhood wound in the same breath.

Dr. Jasmine Fenton was the real hero. And everyone knew it.

[mindswriters]

war of hearts ✮ civil war!au

pairing: stark!reader x bucky barnes (it’s slow burn! they barely talk pls don’t kll me) | + bigbrother!tony and platonicbf!steve

summary: y/n is tony stark’s younger sister, and best friend’s with steve rogers. when the sokovia accords get on table, she has to choose between the two people she loves the most. except, there’s some kind of magnetic string, called bucky barnes, making her choice pend to one side

word count: 7.8k

A/N: what a long come back isn’t it? anyways, I’m unemployed now and it brings me back to my alternative reality of creating scenarios. i also decided to re-watch all the mcu and guess what it’s bucky barnes fever all over again. watched civil war this week, thought about this one. hope you enjoy it!

important! this piece is a collaboration between me and my friend chat gpt. just so you know that i came up with the scenes, wrote it, but also used ai to improve and review the work.

════════════════════════════════════════════

The Sokovia Accords were supposed to bring order to chaos — a framework to keep the Avengers accountable. But for you, Y/n Stark, it felt like a betrayal. You understood Tony’s reasons — his guilt, his desire to control the power that had caused so much destruction — but you couldn’t accept the cost: surrendering freedom and personal judgment to governments that often failed the people they were supposed to protect. More than that, knowing Bucky’s past — the pain he endured as the Winter Soldier and the person he was beneath — made it impossible for you to side with Tony’s call for control and punishment. When the Accords split the team, you stood firmly with Steve, believing that some battles can’t be sanctioned or regulated. That decision tore you apart from Tony, your older brother, who saw your refusal as reckless and personal defiance. Now, after Berlin’s battlefield became the symbol of that fracture, you find yourself in the cold Siberian wasteland, caught between loyalty to your family and to the ideals you fight for.

When your parents died, you were just a child — too young to understand the world they left behind. Tony, as your older brother, stepped in to fill that void, becoming both protector and guardian. As he grew into the role of Iron Man, he fiercely tried to keep you away from the dangers that came with his double life. But your spirit was too strong to be confined. You found your own path, training with Steve Rogers and developing your skills and technology to stand on your own. Through Steve, you learned about Bucky Barnes — a man with a troubled past, yet someone you felt drawn to protect. Over time, you became an essential part of the Avengers family, not just by blood, but through loyalty, courage, and the fierce determination to fight for what you believe in.

After Berlin, everything was fractured. You should’ve been locked away with the others, but you weren’t. You found a way to prove that you and Steve were right — that someone was orchestrating everything from the shadows. You showed Tony the pieces: the inconsistencies, the manipulation, the name Zemo. Maybe it was the way you said it, maybe it was the last thread of trust he still had in you — but he listened. He got you out, and together, you convinced him to go to Siberia, not to fight, but to help.

But the cold in Siberia isn't just in the air — it’s in your chest, tightening with every breath as you step into the facility. The space is dim, sterile, haunted by the ghosts of what happened there. You can feel it in your bones: this is where everything changes. Zemo speaks with a calmness that unsettles you, leading the four of you deeper into the past than anyone was ready to go. Then, the footage begins — December 16, 1991. The mission. You don't want to look, but you can’t tear your eyes away. There’s the crash, the stolen serum, and then… the unmistakable brutality. Your heart sinks as you watch the man beside you — Bucky — become the weapon that killed your parents. It's a storm inside your chest: grief, disbelief, the return of a loss you thought you had buried long ago. Your eyes flicker between three people: Tony, whose hands are already curling into fists; Steve, who refuses to meet your gaze; and Bucky, frozen in silence, his jaw tight with shame. Every part of you is screaming. But you don't move. Not yet.

Silence settles like dust after the video stops, thick and suffocating. You hear Tony’s voice first — low, disbelieving.

“Did you know?”

Steve hesitates. His silence is an answer in itself.

“I didn’t know it was him,” he says finally.

Tony’s voice cracks. “Don’t bullshit me, Rogers. Did you know?”

You feel your breath hitch, a pulse pounding in your ears. Steve closes his eyes. “Yes.”

And just like that, the floor shifts beneath your feet.

You step back instinctively, watching the fury rise behind Tony’s eyes. It’s not just betrayal — it’s heartbreak, it’s twenty-five years of unanswered questions detonating all at once.

“He killed my mom,” Tony says, barely above a whisper, and you flinch.

You want to speak — to say he didn’t have a choice, to remind Tony of who Bucky is now, not who he was made to be — but the words catch in your throat.

Tony’s gaze flicks to you, just for a second, and in it you see something that breaks you more than the video: he expected you to stand with him.

And you can’t. Not against Bucky. Not like this.

Tony turns fully to you, his eyes desperate now — not with confusion, but with expectation. You saw it too, his stare seems to scream. He killed them. Say something. Do something.

You meet his gaze. And all the fire in him crashes against the ocean in your eyes. There's no anger in you — only sorrow, spilling over in silent tears that blur the edges of the room. You shake your head, barely, but it’s enough.

Tony’s chest rises with a sharp inhale, as if your silence alone had struck him.

“Y/n, don’t you dare—”

But he doesn’t finish. He lunges.

You don’t think. You move, stepping between him and Bucky like your body was built for this — like your place has always been in the middle of everything tearing itself apart. Your hands hit Tony’s chest, holding him back with more force than you knew you had.

“Stop,” you breathe. “Please.”

His eyes are blazing now. “He murdered our parents.”

“No,” you say, voice trembling. “He didn’t. That wasn’t him — that was the thing they turned him into. He didn’t have a choice, Tony.”

He looks at you like he doesn’t recognize you anymore. “Is that really what you believe? After what you just saw?”

“I felt that pain too. Every second of it. But I won’t destroy someone who’s already spent a lifetime paying for a crime he didn’t choose to commit.”

Tony laughs — a short, bitter sound. “So you’re siding with him. With the guy who killed your mother.”

Your voice cracks. “I’m not siding with anyone… I’m trying to keep us from losing what’s left.”

“You already lost me.” Tony's words felt like a twisting knife in your chest.

Tony doesn’t wait for another word. With a twist and a push, he slips past your grasp, rage propelling him straight toward Bucky.

“Tony, no!” you cry out, reaching for him, but he’s already swinging.

Bucky barely manages to deflect the first blow — the second lands squarely, sending him reeling. The sound of the impact echoes through the bunker, and something inside you folds.

You stand there, paralyzed. Torn. Watching your brother, burning with grief, throw himself against the man you’ve been fighting beside — the man who never asked for your trust, but who somehow earned it anyway.

Your heart pounds, and for a second, the weight of it all threatens to crush you.

You should stop them. You should do something. But it’s easier to run. And you hate yourself for knowing that.

Your breath hitches as you turn your head — and then you see him.

Zemo.

He lingers by the doorway, quiet and composed, with a ghost of a smile curling his lips. He watches the chaos like a man admiring his own masterpiece.

This is what he wanted.

And suddenly, the fog lifts.

He made you and Tony watch that video.

He manipulated all of you into this.

And maybe it’s cowardice, but going after him is easier than choosing between two people you love.

Fighting Zemo won’t leave scars on your family. Or so you tell yourself.

Steve notices the shift in your face — the way your tears harden into something sharper. He steps toward you cautiously, like he already knows.

You wipe your cheek roughly and meet his gaze. “You take care of them,” you murmur, voice steady despite the ache behind it. “I can’t stop Tony… but I can stop the man who caused this.”

Steve hesitates, but only for a beat. “Y/n—”

“I know,” you whisper through gritted teeth. “I know this won’t fix it.”

You glance back at the fight, at Tony — your brother — and the guilt nearly breaks you again.

You do feel like you’re betraying him. And you hate that it feels this way, but the past few days changed you. You fought beside Bucky. You saw who he really is — not the man in the video. And what’s worse… you felt something. A connection. One you didn’t expect. One you can’t ignore. And right now, you just need to get away from all of it — before your heart splits down the middle.

“Just keep them alive, both,” you say finally. “Please.”

Steve searches your eyes. And then, with a quiet nod, he lets you go.

So, you run. Not just toward vengeance — but away from the pain of choosing sides. You’re not proud of it, but it’s the only way you know how to keep breathing.

You don’t chase him right away, you watch. From the edge of the corridor, you track his figure as it fades into the white horizon—small, deliberate steps against the vast emptiness of snow and rock. He doesn’t run. Of course he doesn’t. He’s not that kind of coward. The icy wind bites at your face as you finally step out into the open. No trees. No shelter. Just you, him, and the silence of everything he shattered.

You catch up fast. Your boots scrape over rock, and before he can turn, you crash into him—shoulder first, a sharp collision that knocks him off balance. He stumbles, slides across the snow. But he recovers quickly, turning just as you strike again. He blocks. Dodges. Counters with surprising strength. He’s trained—more than you expected.

Blow after blow, you fight, fists cracking against arms, your breath ragged in the cold. It's messy, brutal, driven by instinct and pain. The silence breaks when you finally land a punch to his jaw that makes him reel back, lip bloodied.

“You destroyed my family,” you hiss. “Why?”

He spits blood into the snow, barely flinching. “Because they were false.”

You go at him again, but he ducks, sweeping your legs. You hit the ground hard, snow burning your skin, but you don’t stop. You’re already on your feet, chest heaving.

“You tore us apart,” you growl. “Steve, Tony, me, Bucky—what did you got?”

He stares at you calmly, that maddening composure still in place.

“Peace,” he says simply. “Sometimes, the world needs fire before it can rebuild.”

You lunge, slamming him back against a jagged rock. “That’s not peace. That’s ruin.”

“Ruins are honest,” he replies, almost softly.

Your fist trembles mid-air as you hold your knife. You could end it now. You want to. But there’s something behind your anger—something heavier.

“You think this was justice?” your voice cracks. “It was just vengeance.”

Zemo blinks slowly, lips parting into the faintest ghost of a smile. “Exactly.”

Your knuckles are scraped, raw. Blood from his face stains your glove, but your weapon stays raised.

He’s beneath you now—back pressed to the cold, uneven rock, breath shallow but steady. One strike. That’s all it would take. One final blow to end this. He doesn’t fight back. Doesn’t beg. He just looks at you, waiting. Accepting.

Your heart hammers in your chest, louder than the wind howling across the open field. Louder than your brother’s voice echoing in your memory. Louder than Bucky calling your name, back in that bunker before you ran away.

You tighten your grip, vision swimming. And yet, you still haven’t moved.

“Y/n Stark.”

The voice doesn’t come from Zemo. It cuts through the wind with clarity and weight, composed and firm.

You turn, startled, and see him. Prince T’Challa steps forward through the snow, posture tall, eyes calm—but burning with the same pain you carry.

“Vengeance has consumed you.” He looks at you, then to Zemo. “It is consuming them. I will not let it consume me.”

His words strike like a crack in your armor. You look back at Zemo. His face is bruised and bloodied, but his expression doesn’t change. He remains still beneath you, letting the moment stretch in silence. Your arm trembles.

“…Why?” Your voice is barely a whisper. Tired. Fractured. “Why did you do this?”

Zemo breathes in through his nose, slow and deliberate, as if the answer isn’t simple—but unavoidable.

“Sokovia.” His eyes don’t leave yours. “My family was buried beneath the rubble while your ‘heroes’ flew away, arguing about whose fault it was.”

You feel the blow of those words, dull and deep.

“I buried them with my own hands. My wife. My son. My father.” His voice falters for a second. Then steadies. “I knew I couldn’t kill them. Not all of them. But if I could make them kill each other… the empire would collapse from within.”

He finally looks away, into the white distance.

“An empire that no man should ever have the power to build.”

You close your eyes. He didn’t tried to kill your family. He made you watch them unravel.

“I can’t forgive you,” you whisper, with a hint of guilty for his family.

“I know,” he replies. “I don’t want you to.”

T’Challa steps forward, placing a firm hand on your shoulder. “Come. Let justice do what vengeance cannot.”

And you nod—because even if your heart is still fractured, it’s beating steady again. The wind stills, like the world itself has paused to let you breathe. You sit back on your heels, fists lowering at last. Zemo doesn’t move. Neither does T’Challa. Silence falls like snow — thick, cold, and heavy.

Then it comes. Distant at first. Muffled. The echo of metal clashing against metal, grunts of effort, blasts of repulsors cutting through stone and steel. You turn your head toward the sound — you can see it now: pulses of light flaring against the grey sky, like lightning trapped in a cage. Stark’s repulsors.

Your stomach twists. Steve. Bucky.

You rise slowly to your feet, legs unsteady, and glance at T’Challa beside you. He stands tall, hands behind his back, gaze locked on Zemo — no vengeance, only justice in his posture.

“What will you do with him?” you ask, your voice low but sure.

He meets your eyes. “He will answer for his crimes. I will hand him over to Ross.”

There’s no hesitation in his words, only principle. Then he softens, just enough.

“You still have time. Go to your fam.”

You look toward the glow on the ridge again.

A war is happening inside that mountain — a war between the two people you love most. And all you can think about is how it got this far.

But you nod, just once. Then you run. You follow the trail of light and noise, your heartbeat growing louder than the crunch of your boots against the frozen earth. The bunker looms behind you like a carcass. Ahead, only silence—and then, movement.

Steve. He steps into view, his silhouette staggering beneath the weight of the man in his arms.

Bucky.

Your breath catches. For a second, you don't move. Can't move. The light from the open structure glints off torn metal and darkened fabric. Where his arm should be—

Nothing.

You run. You don’t even feel your legs move, don’t hear the panicked sound that leaves your lips until you’re stopping in front of them.

“No—no, no, no—” You reach for Bucky’s face, his wrist, his chest. Anything.

He’s pale. Covered in soot and blood. His breathing is shallow—almost imperceptible. His eyes are closed. Your fingers shake as you press against the side of his neck.

You wait. Wait. There it is. A pulse.

“He’s alive,” Steve says gently, his voice ragged, like it’s the last bit of strength he has.

But there’s something behind it—grief, anger, guilt. Everything you feel, reflected right back at you. Your gaze lifts to meet his, his eyes are rimmed red, jaw clenched with something he can’t say out loud. And then, Steve looks at you with something heavier than sorrow. You swallow hard.

“Where's Tony?” you ask, your voice barely above a worried whisper. “He… your shield?”

Steve doesn’t answer. Instead, he looks back down at Bucky, then up at you again—like he’s choosing his words carefully.

“He’s not thinking straight,” he says. “I could stop him just for now. Maybe you still can.”

You blink, confused. Hurt. “Why would he listen to me?”

“Because you are still his little sister.” Steve’s words land like stone.

He adjusts Bucky in his arms again and balances themselves with effort.

“I’ll keep him safe,” he promises. “And I’ll talk to you as soon as I can. But right now…”

He meets your eyes, firm.

“Tony needs you.”

Steve stands steady, carrying Bucky carefully in his arms as they intend to move towards the Quinjet. The cold air bites, but your focus is entirely on Bucky’s face—bruised, bloodied, but breathing.

You step closer, gently brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. Your voice barely rises above a whisper, trembling with relief: “You’re okay.”

Bucky doesn’t respond, but the small rise and fall of his chest tells you everything you need to know. You shift your gaze to Steve, who meets your eyes with something heavier than sorrow—gratitude, trust, and a quiet admiration. Your glance holds his for a heartbeat, a silent exchange of understanding and strength.

"Thank you" that's the least you could say.

With that, you turn sharply and start running toward where you know you'd find Tony, heart pounding—not knowing what you’ll see, but knowing you have to get him.

You follow the trail of light through the snow and concrete, breath burning in your throat as your feet slam against the cold ground. The metallic echo of your steps fades beneath the hum of repulsors powering down.

Then you see him.

Tony sits on the floor near the wreckage of what used to be part of the bunker wall, helmet off, broken, elbows on his knees, staring down at his own shaking hands. The arc reactor flickers softly in the gloom. His face is torn open—split lip, brow swollen, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth. He looks like a man who has finally reached the bottom of everything.

You slow your steps. “Tony…”

His head snaps up like he forgot he wasn’t alone. His eyes are bloodshot, red-rimmed, and exhausted. For a second, he doesn’t say anything. Just looks at you like he’s not sure whether to collapse into your arms or push you away again.

“I couldn't do any other way,” he finally breathes, voice cracked. “He killed our parents.”

You nod, tears brimming again. “I know.”

He looks at you for a long time—really looks. There’s a tremble in his jaw, and then, like all the anger that had held him together just burnt out, he looks away again. “And you protected him.”

The words hit you like a slap, even though they’re soft, almost whispered.

“I told you it wasn't him. And I protected you, too,” you say edged, trying hard to control your own emotions. “From doing something you’d never come back from.”

He lets out a shaky sigh—bitter and hollow. “Then why do I still feel like I lost everything?”

You kneel beside him, not touching him yet. “Because you did, and so did I. But we’re still here. And we still got each other”

There’s a long pause. You let it breathe. Ignoring the tremble in your chin, and the tears stinging your eyes. Carefully, you rest your hand over his, grounding both of you in something real.

“We gotta go home” you say.

Tony doesn’t respond right away. His fingers twitch beneath yours, but he doesn’t pull away.

You lean in closer, softer now. “I know you don’t understand how I could’ve stood in your way. And maybe you won’t. But… I made a choice, Tony. And I’ll carry it. I'm not a child anymore”

Finally, he turns his hand over, wrapping his fingers around yours like he’s afraid to let go.

══════════════════════════════════════════════════

The days that followed blurred into a slow return to something resembling normal. You and Tony flew back to the compound in silence, the tension between you heavy but softened by exhaustion. Healing wasn’t immediate—some days you spoke like nothing ever happened, sharing breakfast and old jokes; other days, you couldn’t look at each other without remembering everything that had broken between you. Still, piece by piece, your bond began to mend.

Tony pulled every string he had to keep you out of prison. Unlike the others who sided with Steve, you were granted house arrest—confined to the compound, under strict surveillance, your every movement monitored. It should’ve felt like a victory, but it didn’t. The guilt gnawed at you—knowing Sam, Wanda, Clint and Scott were locked away while you walked free. That guilt became your fuel. Quietly, you slipped Steve fragments of intel, just enough to help him break into the Raft and free the others. You know the risks. So did Tony.

But he never stopped you.

He never asked where the encrypted messages went. Never questioned why you stayed up late with the comms encrypted. He didn’t even stop you from calling Steve late at night, when the silence felt too loud and your chest ached with everything unsaid.

Then came the morning you didn’t show up for breakfast.

Tony waited for a good ten minutes, which was already generous for someone like him. The toast went cold. He sighed, picked up your mug and went looking for you, grumbling something about dramatic sleeping habits and time zones.

He found your room quiet. Too quiet. When he opened the door, he froze. There, on your desk, your tracking bracelet—still blinking red—was locked tight around the abdomen of a massive ant.

“…Scott,” Tony muttered, blinking. “You absolute tiny bastard.”

He looked to the bed, where a folded note rested on your pillow. His fingers hovered over it for a moment before he picked it up, already dreading whatever sentimental nonsense you had left behind.

“Had to go on a little trip. Be kind to the ant, it has your name too. I love you. I’ll be back soon.”

Tony stared at the handwriting for a few seconds. Then he let out a single, sharp laugh, more disbelief than amusement. He dropped the note back onto the bed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Well played, Rogers. Kidnapping my sister, real subtle.” He stood there a moment longer, torn between frustration and admiration, before walking out of the room—still muttering under his breath.

══════════════════════════════════════════════════

The ship flew in silence, cutting through the night sky like a shadow. The sleek lines of Wakandan technology made almost no noise — just a soft hum filled the air, echoing the restrained breath in your chest.

Steve sat across the cabin, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the window — but you knew he wasn’t really seeing the clouds. Since boarding, few words have been exchanged. And none were really needed. He had already told you the essentials: T’Challa watched. He listened. He understood. And unlike what many would’ve done in his place, the king chose compassion. He chose to protect Bucky. And Bucky chose to trust them. This ship was another gift — or maybe a promise. A quiet gesture from someone who also knew what it was to lose, but refused to let hatred shape his next steps.

You leaned your head back and closed your eyes for a moment, but rest didn’t come. A part of you was still back there — in the frozen bunker, on the ground stained by the fury of someone you loved. The image of Tony’s face — wounded more in heart than armor — still weighed like lead in your chest.

“You okay?” — Steve’s voice came soft, almost a whisper, but clear enough to pull you back.

You nodded, eyes still shut. “I am.”

A pause. “Or at least… I will be.”

He didn’t push. Steve never did. He just looked at you with that gentle, loyal kind of expression — the same one he had when he took your hand and pulled you out of the compound in the middle of the night, promising it would be worth it.

“Will Bucky be safe?” — you asked, almost afraid of the answer.

Steve took a deep breath. “He will. They have the resources. The tech. And he wants this, Y/n. He wants peace. He wants... to be himself again.”

You didn’t reply right away. Your throat tightened, and everything inside you felt like it was rearranging — memories, loyalty, pain, love. An emotional mess carefully boxed into a floating piece of metal in the sky.

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “Thank you, Steve... for having our backs.”

He gave a soft smile — one of those small, sincere ones. “Always.”

The ship kept moving forward, cutting through the dark. And for a few minutes, you let the silence become a form of comfort.

You were going to see him. Bucky. And a part of you — the part that spent so long trying not to feel — finally let a small hope slip through the cracks.

The silence stretched between you for a while, peaceful and full of unspoken things. You hadn’t moved from your seat, but your fingers played absentmindedly with the hem of your sleeve — something restless stirring just beneath the surface.

Steve shifted a little, his voice breaking the quiet with gentle curiosity.

“So…” he started, a trace of a smile in his tone. “When did it happen?”

You looked up, brow furrowed. “When did what happen?”

He tilted his head, a soft grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That… invisible magnet between you and Bucky. I’ve seen it for a while now. The way you look at him. The way he looks at you.”

You exhaled through your nose, not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I think it was always there. Since the day on the bridge. Like something we didn’t notice until it was too loud to ignore.”

Steve nodded, the smile fading into something softer — more earnest.

“I’m glad he found you. That he let someone in. After everything… I thought it would take a miracle.”

You met his gaze, surprised by the emotion in his voice.

“He trusted you,” he said, more quietly now. “Aside from me, you were the only person he didn’t flinch away from. The only one he willingly talked to after… everything.”

You felt your throat tighten, and your voice came out quieter than before.

“He didn’t have to explain me anything. I just… saw him. And I knew he wasn’t the monster they said he was.”

Steve smiled again, this time with a flicker of something like pride. “You believed in him when it mattered most. You never doubted.”

You shrugged, glancing toward the window. “I doubted myself more than I ever doubted him.”

There was a beat of silence, then Steve leaned back in his seat, his tone suddenly lighter — teasing.

“You know…” he said, “back in the day — I mean way back — before I got frozen, Peggy gave me a goodbye kiss. She didn’t know it would be goodbye, not really. But… she still kissed me.”

You raised an eyebrow, already catching where this was going.

Steve gave you a crooked grin.

“I’m just saying — if we went through all the trouble of breaking you out of house arrest, sneaking past Stark’s security systems, and borrowing a ship from the King of Wakanda… Bucky deserves a goodbye kiss. Don’t you think?”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips.

“He’s not going anywhere.”

Steve shrugged, grinning.

“Neither was I.”

You laughed, quietly — the kind that settles into your chest and stays there, warm and a little nervous.

"I'm not giving Bucky a goodbye kiss, not when I know that I'll be seeing him again." You say, forcing yourself to sound optimistic, even when you're a little scared about Bucky's future.

══════════════════════════════════════════════════

The sun was just beginning to rise over Wakanda when the ship touched down. The soft golden light filtered through the tall grasses and sleek towers, casting the world in a warm hue — as if the land itself welcomed peace after so much war. You stepped out behind Steve, blinking against the brightness, the air different here — lighter, cleaner, but buzzing with quiet power.

Waiting for you was T’Challa, dressed in dark robes, arms calmly folded behind his back. He looked at you both not with suspicion, but with that steady regal grace — the kind of presence that made you straighten your posture without realizing it.

“Captain Rogers,” he greeted first. Then his gaze shifted to you. “Miss Stark.”

You gave a small nod, unsure if words would come out right now.

“We’re grateful,” Steve said. “More than I can express.”

T’Challa simply inclined his head. “He is safe. Healing. But the path forward will still be long.” His gaze flickered to you for a second. “For all of you.”

You didn’t respond — just swallowed and nodded again, because your chest was already tight.

“Come,” T’Challa said. “He’s waiting.”

The corridors of the Wakandan compound were impossibly quiet. Everything smelled like steel and earth and the subtle scent of something growing. It felt removed from the world — like a place outside of time. You followed Steve through a pair of sliding doors, your footsteps barely audible over the hum of the hall. The closer you got, the more your heart pounded — not in fear, but something deeper. Something ancient. Recognition.

Steve stopped just before a final door. He turned to you, like he sensed your hesitation in coming with him.

"You should go first. He might wanna talk to you alone." You offer him a concerned smile, but Steve knew you well enough to know that you were actually nervous to be seeing Bucky again.

“Wait here then.” He said simply, looking to the glass wall, where you could see through, and spot Bucky's figure on the other room.

You nodded. He gave you a small smile, then stepped inside alone.

Through the glass wall, you saw him approach Bucky — dressed in loose, simple clothes. His hair was longer now, brushed back behind his ears. He looked calm, almost still, as he turned toward Steve. You couldn’t hear what was said, but the expression that crossed Bucky’s face at the sight of his friend was unmistakable — relief and something like home.

They spoke briefly. Bucky’s body shifted, sharing a hug with Steve that made you smile to yourself. Steve kept a grip on his friend's shoulder, and as he pointed to the door, you took it as your sign to come in.

He indeed gestured toward you, lips moving around words you couldn’t quite hear — but you felt them in your bones.

"There's someone else I thought you'd like to see."

You step into the room, and for a moment, everything feels too bright. The space is open, the large windows filling it with sunlight that dances along the polished floor. But all you see is him — standing close to Steve, illuminated by the sunrays from the landscape behind them. His eyes fixed on you the second you enter.

You stop just inside the threshold, suddenly unsure of your body, your expression — of anything, really.

Bucky doesn’t move at first. Neither do you.

“Hi.” You say, breaking the silence with a soft tone, like he’s trying not to scare a wounded animal.

"Hey," Bucky responds, there's a glimpse of something heavy is his tone. Guilt. Appreciation. Relief.

He turns to you, but still hesitates on getting too close. "Wasn't you supposed to be... uhm, in prison?" He frowns, cleaning his throat.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. "Wow. That’s the first thing you say to me?"

Bucky widened his eyes and Steve chuckled under his breath.

You take a step closer, placing yourself beside Steve. “Technically, I was under house arrest. Tony pulled some strings with the government.”

Bucky's eyes narrowed. “He’s not hating you?”

“Of course not,” Steve shook his head. “She got the fancy kind of punishment. Electronic monitor, surveillance, no going outside the compound.”

You shrugged. “It wasn’t that bad. Except for the part where I couldn’t even get decent coffee.”

Steve tilted his head, that teasing glint returning to his eyes. “Which is why I may have… borrowed one of Scott’s ants.”

Bucky blinked. “One of his ants?”

You nodded, trying not to grin. “A very big one. It handled the ankle monitor part.”

“She didn’t even hesitate,” Steve added, smirking. “I said, ‘Want to leave for a trip?’ and she was already halfway out the window.”

You nudged Steve lightly with your foot. “You made it sound very heroic. I thought we were going to do something cool, not sneak onto a spaceship like teenagers past curfew.”

“Well,” Steve shrugged, grinning now, “you wouldn't have exactly say no to that.”

Bucky huffed a short laugh, shaking his head. “You two are unbelievable.”

You smiled and leaned forward, eyes fixed on him. “And yet… here we are.”

For a moment, the warmth between the three of you made the world outside the lab feel distant — just three people, trying to hold onto a piece of normal.

Steve gives the two of you a lingering glance. There’s something in his posture — a careful blend of protectiveness and quiet encouragement — before he steps toward the door.

“I’ll give you two a minute,” he says gently, and with a nod, he leaves.

The silence stretches as the door hisses shut behind him. You look at Bucky. He’s standing practically in the same position since you first saw him. His right hand gripping his waist, looking away at the full view windows, as if admiring Wakanda for the first time. His hair brushed back revealed more of his face than you’re used to seeing. There are dark circles under his eyes, but they don't take away from the clarity in them — eyes no longer haunted, just... tired.

You take a cautious step forward, and then another. “How... how have things been here?”

His voice is low, and still carries the weight of something raw. “Quiet. Safe. It’s... a strange kind of peace.”

You nod, arms crossing in front of your chest — a small shield against the emotions threatening to rise again. “And what happens now?”

Bucky shrugs, eyes finally meeting yours. “Shuri says they can help... take it all apart. The programming. The conditioning. I told them to do it. We’re trying to... unmake the Winter Soldier, I guess.”

You nod. “Sounds like something that should’ve happened a long time ago.”

He doesn’t answer that. And silence settles again — heavier this time.

You feel it hanging between you. Everything unsaid. Everything still bleeding under the surface.

Then, finally, he speaks. Quiet. Honest.

“I’m sorry.”

Your heart stumbles. He continues before you can respond.

“For your parents. For what happened with Tony. For dragging you into all of this. I... I still don’t know how you stood by me after all that.” His voice cracks at the edges, not from weakness, but from shame. Real, quiet shame.

You take a breath, step closer, letting the tip of your boots touch his feet, searching his eyes.

“I never saw the Winter Soldier, Bucky,” you say softly. “I only saw you. I stood by you. And I’m still here.”

He blinks, and for a second, his composure slips. He looks at you like he’s still not sure he can trust it — trust you — even though everything about you has been screaming that he can.

Bucky doesn’t look away this time — but there’s hesitation in his voice when he speaks.

“Why?” He swallows hard. “Why did you choose us… after everything?”

You exhale slowly, trying to find the words. “It wasn’t a choice, not really. It just… happened.”

He tilts his head slightly, searching your face.

“That thing between us,” you continue, voice softer now, “it’s always been there. Even when it shouldn’t have. Even when we barely knew each other.”

Bucky’s eyes drop to the floor for a second, like he’s hiding behind the thought before admitting it.

“I felt it too,” he says. “Like something pulling at me.”

You smile, small but real. “Invisible magnet.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Exactly.”

There’s a brief silence — not uncomfortable this time, just reflective. Like neither of you know what to do with the truth now that it’s been spoken out loud.

“I don’t know what it means,” you admit, leaning lightly against the table beside you. “And I’m not sure what to do with it either.”

Bucky glances at you again, eyes softer now.

“But it’s real,” he says.

You nod. “Yeah. It’s real.”

Neither of you move closer. Neither of you pull away. There’s no grand moment, no promise, no plan — just two people, standing in the middle of a quiet Wakandan room, holding onto something they don’t fully understand.

You glance away for a second, trying to collect your thoughts — but your eyes land on the glass door.

And there he is. Steve.

Standing just outside the lab, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in that older brother watching from a distance kind of way. You can practically feel the smugness radiating off of him.

Then — because of course he would — he lifts a hand and makes the most exaggerated “kissy face” gesture imaginable. Puckered lips. Two fingers tapping together. A little heart drawn in the air for good measure.

You freeze, widening your eyes at him.

Bucky notices the way your expression suddenly shifts — the subtle horror creeping into your face — and turns to follow your gaze.

“What is he—?”

You step in front of him so fast it’s almost comedic.

“Nothing. He’s just being Steve.”

Bucky narrows his eyes. “Was he… doing a thing with his hands?”

“Nope,” you say, a little too fast. “Just a… diplomatic wave. Wakandan custom. Very respectful.”

Steve, now thoroughly entertained, is biting his bottom lip to keep from laughing.

Before Bucky can press further — or you can come up with a better excuse for Steve’s antics — the door slides open.

Steve steps into the room like he’s been waiting for the exact right moment to ruin it. He looks between the two of you with a suspiciously innocent expression that doesn't fool either of you.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says, though he doesn't sound very sorry. “Shuri’s ready.”

You blink. “Already?”

He nods, a little more serious now. “Lab’s prepped. Everything’s in place.”

You feel Bucky stiffen slightly beside you, but he doesn’t look away. There’s a quiet understanding in his eyes now — something grounded. Steady. He knew this was coming.

You glance between them both, something tightening in your chest.

“How long will he be under?” you ask, your voice softer again.

Steve shrugs gently. “As long as it takes. Until he’s really free.”

Bucky takes a breath, turning toward the door, but he pauses — just long enough to glance back at you. There’s something like a silent question in his expression. Something waiting.

You offer a small nod.

And together, the three of you walk down the corridor. The lab was bathed in soft blue light, reflecting off the smooth vibranium panels and glass interfaces. At the center stood the cryogenic chamber — sleek, sterile, silent — waiting.

You lingered near the entrance, watching as Bucky stepped forward with slow, steady steps. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. This wasn’t the kind of moment that called for words.

Steve followed behind him, quieter than usual, his expression unreadable. But when Bucky turned to face him, the tension shifted.

They stood in front of each other for a long moment — no soldier and no captain. Just two men who had been through too much together, and were somehow still standing.

Steve broke the silence first.

“You sure this is the right call?” His voice was low, but steady. Honest.

Bucky nodded, his jaw tight. “I can’t trust my own mind so… that’s the best option.”

Steve glanced at the floor, then back up. “You’ve been carrying this for longer than we know. You’ll be fine”

“Thanks,” Bucky said, quick and certain. “For being here.”

“Always, pal.” Steve nods, a concerned smile adorning his face.

There was a beat, and then Bucky let out a breath — half a laugh, almost. “Just don’t do anything stupid until I get back”

Steve gave a soft huff. “How can I? You’re taking all the stupidity with you.”

The two exchanged a small, tired smile. But their eyes said everything else — the things that couldn’t be spoken: I’m sorry. I’m proud of you. I’ll be here when you wake up.

They stepped forward at the same time, and Steve pulled Bucky into a firm embrace — not brief, not forced. Just real.

You looked away, jaw clenched, forcing yourself to breathe through the lump forming in your throat. This was their goodbye. Their history. You didn’t want to intrude. But still… watching it hurt more than you expected.

When they finally pulled apart, Bucky turned — and found you waiting.

The weight of the moment returned in full.

He took a step closer, slower this time, his eyes locked on yours.

“I’ll be okay,” he said softly. “And when I wake up… maybe we’ll both know what to do with this.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Just don’t take too long.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Then — something shifted.

You felt it in the silence. In the way he lingered. In the way your heart beat just a little louder, like it knew time was running out.

Steve didn’t say a word. He just glanced from Bucky to you, then back again. One eyebrow lifted — subtle, but clear.

Now or never.

You hesitated, your breath catching. Then, slowly, you stepped forward and reached up, fingers brushing against Bucky’s jaw with barely a touch. And you kissed him.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t dramatic. Just a soft, grounding press of your lips against his — a silent promise, a thank you, a goodbye. His hand came up, gently touching your waist, as if memorizing the shape of the moment.

When you pulled back, your voice was barely a whisper. “For good luck. You return it when you wake up.”

He looked at you like he wanted to say something — maybe a hundred things — but instead, he just nodded.

“Okay.” He mirrors your shy, sensible smile.

Then he turned, stepped into the chamber, closed his eyes and let the door do the same.

You stood beside Steve as the cryo-pod sealed shut, the mist already curling around the edges. The bite on your lip held both your tears, and the feeling of missing Bucky’s lips against yours. Already.

The chamber hissed softly as it sealed, locking Bucky into a stasis of silence and frost. You stood still for a moment longer, staring through the curved glass — watching as the mist rose and softened the edges of his face until it faded completely.

A quiet breath left your lips. Not relief. Not grief. Something in between.

Steve waited beside you without rushing, giving you the time you needed. Then, gently, he turned toward the door.

You followed him out of the lab, your footsteps echoing faintly down the sleek corridor. It wasn’t until you reached the end of the hall that he finally spoke — voice low, but unmistakably smug.

“So…” He didn’t look at you. Just kept walking. “…you did kiss him goodbye.”

You narrowed your eyes, cheeks flushing instantly. “Don’t start.”

Steve raised both hands in faux innocence. “Hey, I didn’t say a word. You’re the one blushing.”

You shoved his shoulder lightly. “You’re insufferable.”

He grinned. “Takes one to know one.”

But then he looked at you — and the teasing faded just enough to let something warmer shine through.

“You did good,” he said. “For him. For yourself.”

You didn’t answer, but the way you smiled back told him you understood.

And together, once again, you walked on.

EPILOGUE

The compound was quiet when you stepped back inside. Not the tense kind of quiet from before — just late-night silence, familiar and still. You dropped your bag by the couch, rolled your shoulders, and kicked off your boots with the grace of someone who had clearly been sneaking around behind global authorities.

You made it five steps into the kitchen before his voice echoed from the other side of the island.

“Took you long enough.”

You jumped slightly. “Jesus, Tony—”

“Wrong deity,” he said, holding up a coffee mug. “But thanks for the dramatic entrance. Very spy-thriller of you.”

He looked exactly the same — hoodie, rumpled hair, tired eyes pretending not to be relieved. You hated how good he was at that.

You leaned against the counter, trying not to smile. “Did Friday tell you I was back?”

“Nope. I guessed.” He sipped his coffee. “That, or the giant mutant ant returned with a postcard.”

You snorted. “Sorry I ran off.”

He waved a hand. “Eh, I’ve been ditched for worse things than a cryogenically frozen ex-HYDRA assassin with severe emotional damage. Honestly? Kind of proud.”

You blinked. “Wait—proud?”

He held up a finger. “Don’t make it weird. I’m still mad. But also, you know...”

He hesitated just a moment too long. “You’re my favorite Stark. Don’t tell Pepper.”

A lump formed quietly in your throat, but you masked it with a smirk.

“Yeah, well… you’re not my favorite genius billionaire anymore.”

Tony squinted. “Is it because I didn’t build you a vibranium suit?”

You shrugged, walking around the counter to grab a mug. “That’s part of it.”

He watched you for a second as you poured coffee into your cup, his expression softening just a fraction.

“You okay?” he asked, quieter now.

You nodded, keeping your eyes on the coffee. “I will be. Are you?”

“Same.” He didn’t press.

Instead, he reached out, hooked a finger through the handle of your mug, and pulled it closer to refill it himself.

“Well,” he said. “I already told the team you're grounded, just so you know.”

You rolled your eyes. “You can’t ground me.”

“I just did.”

You took the mug back and bumped your shoulder lightly into his.

And for a moment — just a moment — it felt like home again.

[spookyrea]

You Can Wrap Me 'Round Your Finger...

You’re having a crisis trying to pick the perfect moment to tell Loki you love him. Loki is having a crisis, too, except his is decidedly way more embarrassing. Also, your pillows keep disappearing.

(aka - frost giant biology is weird and Loki has to suffer the consequences.)

a companion to Love at First Sight (or should I walk by again?) - can be read on its own!

Chapter 1 / 2 -- read it on AO3 here

Word count: ~5k

Warnings: fem reader; Loki is CLINGY

You could just make out the rosy hue of a late-season snowfall from your vantage point behind the cockpit; it blanketed the city, turning the streets a pale orange where streetlamp light reflected off of a crisp, white coat. For a city that never slept it was strangely quiet; at just past three o’clock in the morning, not even the snow plows were out yet.

Your team was returning from a four day long deployment to San Francisco – a retrieval mission where you were tasked with tracking down and seizing off-world cargo. It had gone over surprisingly well - zero casualties, a handful of actual combat incidents, and a scant few million dollars worth of petty property damage. It did require a proper cargo plane, though, which meant that the team had to rely on a local airplane hangar to get back home. 

(Despite his truly unparalleled complaining, Tony’s choice to put the Avengers tower in the centre of a busy New York metropolitan block meant that there were certain restrictions - namely, the laws of physics - that limited the size of plane they could have on-site).

An unfortunate consequence of it all was that you were freezing. You made a face and folded your arms over your chest; you were dressed for a late February chill, in tac-pants and a knit sweater, not a snowstorm. As romantic as the snow looked, the cold was settling over you like an ache and, coupled with the early-hour and a tender bruise on your left side, your mood was only souring. You cast your eyes to the ceiling and prayed that a car was already waiting for you on the tarmac.

The quin-jet touched down a little roughly; you felt Wanda’s wince without looking at her, but Tony immediately came to her defense. “No, that was because of the snow. Poor visibility. Out of your control. Definitely. I’m passing you with flying colours - hey, get it?”

The loading ramp slid open with a pop and a hiss; your ears felt funny now that you were on solid ground, like they were full of cotton. Natasha tugged on her earlobes, then reached over and tugged on Steve’s too to be a pest. He swatted her away with a scowl. 

Moments later, attendants began to climb the loading ramp in groups of two. You scowled. They were at least dressed for the weather.

You pulled your hands from between your thighs, trying to focus on anything other than the way your core muscles were tensed against the chill, and thanked whatever powers-that-be that you could finally go home. You were half way through unbuckling your seatbelt when an automated voice warned you from overhead not to leave your seats.

“Sorry, everyone,” Tony called. “Safety or whatever. All cargo has to be removed before we can get up. Just a few minutes. You’ll be warm and in bed in no time.”

You sank low in your seat, arms crossed, and focused very hard on glaring a hole in the quid-jet floor. Who knows -- maybe you could spontaneously develop heat-vision. It would look good on your resume.

“I was beginning to think I’d have to go collect you myself.”

Crossing the jet in long strides, tall enough to peer over most attendants' heads, was Loki. Your boyfriend.  

Dressed in civilian clothing, Loki was something resplendent. His pale skin, warmed by the cool twilight haze outside, was a stark relief against his mop of riotous dark curls, and his green eyes caught the light in a mysterious way. A pair of neatly-polished shoes rattled the grated floor as he approached, weaving in between attendants, until he came to a stop at your side. With a wave of his hand, Loki manifested a fine wool cloak to drape over your shoulders. His long fingers drew the golden hook at the collar through its eye and smoothed it flat against your sternum.

“Can’t have you freezing to death,” he murmured.

You thumbed the stitching along the hem of the cloak; the thread was such a dark green that it almost blended in with the black fabric. “I would have been fine.”

“Well, if you’re too warm, I can certainly help cool you down.” Loki slid into the seat next to you and blew an icy breath across your neck, making you shriek. The grin he shot you was lecherous - truly vile , you mumbled - and sent a hot thrill from your nape to the pit of your belly.

“You are evil.”

“You should have me locked up.”

You pulled the collar of his cloak up to your face, pressing the velvety edge to your mouth. “I’m putting in a request immediately.”

Loki offered you his wrists, that sticky grin growing even wider. “Why wait?”

A flash of green seidr crackled suggestively, implying where a set of handcuffs might bind him. Your eyes snapped to the whirlwind of snow outside, cheeks hot. 

Tony gagged obnoxiously from the pilot’s seat. The comms system crackled to life overhead. “Get a room, you two.”

Loki scoffed, mock affront dripping from his lazy posture, and poured himself over your shoulders, even though the armrest was in the way and was without a doubt digging into his side. He plucked your hand from your lap, lacing his fingers through yours and drawing it up to his mouth. His lips idly traced the edge of his signet ring on your thumb while you watched the cargo roll by, box by painstaking box. 

You had only been dating for a few months, having finally confessed your mutual attraction after a tumultuous, alcohol-fueled evening together. It turned out that the entire time that you had been harbouring a monumental crush on Loki, he’d been just as gone on you - a fact you hadn’t known, since his idea of showing interest was to give you shiny rocks and hand feed you foods, and yours was whatever Tinder had going on.

Once the two of you had gotten over your - admittedly pretty embarrassing - communication barrier, you fell into a nice routine. You found that you were more confident without the weight of an unrequited crush looming over you, and Loki was eons more likely to finish his paperwork as long as you were there to play footsie with him under the table and let him ramble every fifteen minutes. He still flirted with everything that moved, but you recognized the nuances of his affection now. He never touched anyone, but he hung off of you like a limpet; he might smile and schmooze at parties, all lecherous grins and innuendo, but his eyes always sought your approval out after every punchline; and he only ever called you pet.

(And on one occasion, master. But that was a different story.)

Once the attendants had unloaded the last crate into a van, Tony gave everyone the OK to exit the plane without worrying about being trampled. Steve was the first out, blinking sleep out of his eyes. Natasha, Bruce and Tony were quick to follow, all stumbling into the first car they saw, while Wanda stayed and fiddled with a few switches from the co-pilot’s seat. Under Natasha’s suggestion, she was trying to get a proper license to fly - mostly for paperwork-related reasons, because the insurance company charged a fortune every time an Avenger ‘borrowed’ a vehicle without permission.

Before you could protest, Loki scooped up the duffle bag at your feet and started down the loading ramp into the storm, leaving you and Wanda as the last on the plane. You rapped your knuckles against the ceiling and sent her a questioning look. Decked out in her oversized headset and a fuzzy quarter-zip sweater Tony had commissioned for the team, she looked right at home behind the quinjet control panel. She shot you a thumbs up, gesturing for you to go on ahead. You blew her a quick kiss and then hurried after Loki, fighting to keep the cloak shut against the blustering wind. 

Wet snow crept under your pant legs, clinging unpleasantly to the strip of skin left exposed by your socks. Loki had already packed your belongings away in the farthest van and was waiting by the back door, held open for you. You jogged - as best you could given the weather - the last couple of feet and slid into the backseat.

Loki hauled himself through the other door a moment later. The driver - a bored looking man with a dark beard and greying temples - pushed the stick shift into gear and turned off the runway. 

You shivered, brushing clumps of snow off your ankles. Dark stains were climbing up your shins where the it bled through. Loki leaned across the seat to help you, running a shimmering hand over your shoulders to dry you off. 

Mostly satisfied, you sank back and watched the city roll by, the empty streets cast in shades of neon as the snow reflected billboards and store displays. It was a beautiful sight, the kind of morning you would normally want to commit to memory for the postcard-ness of it all – except you were exhausted and a little cranky, so you turned your eyes to stare at your boyfriend instead. 

(You made it a full three minutes without looking at him - a new personal record.)

You admired him the way an owner might creep up on a beloved pet in a sunbeam; you didn’t want him to know you were looking, in case he spooked and moved, so you kept your cheek turned and watched from the corner of your eye. He was deep in thought, luckily, which gave you some leeway to admire his profile. There was something decidedly boyish about him when he was relaxed, a softness you so rarely got to see; it made you want to kiss every inch of him just for the sake of kissing.

He drew an aimless pattern with his thumb across your upper thigh. His pinky finger was stretched comically far from the rest of his fingers, as if willing your hand to reach out and intertwine but too stubborn to ask. For a silly, love-sick moment you were overwhelmed by the need to tell him you loved him - and then your brain caught up with your heart and bludgeoned it into submission.

The knowledge that you were in love with him and the nebulous un-knowledge of how he felt about you was starting to wear on your nerves. You understood logically that he liked you - enough to court you, under different circumstances - but what you felt when you looked at him was a hurricane of emotions, a self-sustaining cycle of hot air up and cold air down, whipping the sea so hard that it formed storm clouds unbidden by the laws of nature. You knew that he felt things differently, had lived a dozen of your lifetimes no doubt filled with pretty things. Would this change your relationship? Would you breaking that last barrier make yourself less desirable somehow?

You wanted to tell him. To share the inherent joy of being in love.

It just scared you to death, was all. No big deal.

His mouth twitched; his eyes caught yours in the window’s reflection as the car entered the dark parking garage. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Nothing,” you squeaked. “Just tired. Sorry.”

The car dropped you off in the underground parking of the Avengers’ tower. Yours was the last of the convoy, so you and Loki slipped out of the car into an empty lot where only a few strangler attendants were unloading and taking inventory. You held one corner of the cloak in your hand, worried it would drag through the slush puddles tracked in by the cars. Loki’s hand came to rest on the small of your back while he hoisted your bag over his shoulder.

“After you, pet.”

You led him to the elevators, where you leaned against the railing and let your eyes slip shut. Loki selected a floor and then joined you, draping one arm around your shoulders to draw you into his chest.

You leaned your cheek against him. Now that you were home, the full weight of your exhaustion was bearing down on you. The pattern of knots Loki was drawing across the back of your neck wasn’t helping. You were suddenly grateful for the support of Loki’s body under you, solid and steady; you slid your hands under his jacket to hug him… then paused.

Something was… off.

You pulled back and gave him a once-over. Nothing outwardly betrayed him as different. He wore a pair of simple, straight-leg tac-pants and a white t-shirt under a brown vintage-style bomber he’d no doubt swiped from Bucky or Steve; the cut of each item flattered his narrow build exceedingly, a fact you knew he was aware of by the way he kept glancing at you during your drive home. His hair was wild and unstyled in a hopelessly endearing way - a look he’d taken to wearing often after you made a passing comment about liking it that way.

The jacket though… 

He filled it out well. Too well.

“You’re bigger,” you blurted out.

Loki raised one eyebrow in a perfect, mocking arch. “Excuse me?”

“You’re,” you waved your hand up and down his body, “bigger. Like, broader. Have you been working out more?”

Loki glanced down at his chest. “No?”

You pushed the jacket off his shoulders to get a better look at him. The white cotton of his t-shirt puckered across his chest, wrinkling under the strain of an extra inch or so of muscle, and the side seams were pulled so taut that you could see the thread. You poked him right over his heart, admiring a new, plush firmness.

The tips of Loki’s fingers wormed under your shirt. His smile took on a wicked edge as he soaked in the sight of you in front of him. When you shot him a look, he screwed his face up into something resembling innocence. “If you’re going to ogle me like a piece of meat, I think it’s only fair that I get to admire you, too.”

You hummed and slipped his jacket back into place, smoothing your palms down his chest to rest just above his waistband. Loki’s evilness washed away to something sticky sweet; he slid his hand up between your shoulder blades, his fingers splayed wide to admire the shift of your muscles under your skin. His other hand twined with yours to lift your knuckles to his mouth.

The doors slid open on his floor. With a flourish and a fleeting kiss, Loki stooped to collect your bag. His free hand trailed behind him, outstretched for you to take, but you lingered with a smile and a shake of your head.

He came to an abrupt stop under the threshold, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. He wiggled his fingers, as if you were refusing because you’d missed his offer to hold your hand. “What are you doing?”

You pressed the button for your floor. “I’m going back to my room.”

“No,” Loki whined, his hand still outstretched. “Please, darling.”

You rolled your eyes and attempted to pull your bag from his hands. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Loki.”

“But you’ll miss out on my new, broader body. Your bed will seem extra empty now in comparison. You should just skip the trouble.”

“Loki, I’m tired. And all my stuff is in my apartment.”

“You can wear something of mine.” Loki, exasperated, threw your duffle down in front of the elevator door and cornered you against the railing.

“Just for the night, Loki.” You pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth, one he didn’t return… and then seemed to regret, because only a heartbeat after you pulled away he was on you, cupping your face between both his hands and swiping his tongue across your bottom lip. You huffed out a sigh and pushed on his stomach; he managed to get two more kisses in before you finally won and put some distance between the two of you.

In a perfectly Loki-fashion, Loki sulked. He stomped out of the elevator and then turned to you, his hands firmly on his hips. “You vex me. Understand that I will be taking you out for breakfast tomorrow, no exceptions.”

You hooked a finger through your bag strap, dragging it back into the elevator. “Make it a late lunch. If you wake me before noon there will be punishments.”

Loki’s eyes twitched with the briefest hint of a smirk. His voice dropped an octave. “Promise?”

The elevator doors slid shut on his leering expression. You spent the rest of the ride valiantly trying not to fall asleep. The low hum of its engine was terribly soothing.

When the elevator opened to your floor, you weren’t surprised to find PAL - Tony’s Paperwork Assistant Lite robot, who usually helped organize and retrieve files in the office downstairs - waiting by your door. Measuring just under two feet tall, PAL could navigate the halls and elevator just fine as long as FRIDAY was willing to unlock the doors for him, but your manual lock-and-key front door was an insurmountable obstacle for him.

“How long have you been here, buddy?”

As soon as he recognized you, PAL trilled with delight. His metal chassis vibrated with the effort of waiting by the door. He rounded your feet while you dug through your pants pockets for your keys, narrating the week to you in his language of whistles and beeps, and raised his tiny paper tray, straining to try and take over the weight of your duffle bag. You huffed out a laugh, leaning ever-so-slightly to the side to set it on him but not to smother; the LED display on his face narrowed, as if he was concentrating very hard on not dropping your belongings.

As soon as you were through the door, you threw your bag by your shoe rack and toed off your sneakers, leaving them in a pile on the floor. PAL set to straightening them, sweeping them to the wall with his tray ahead like a snowplow. He tried to do the same to your bag, but his treads could only pinwheel against the weight. 

You stood in the living room for a moment and folded Loki’s cloak over the back of your couch, contemplating skipping your whole routine and going straight to bed. You settled on missing a shower but washing your face - everything else could be dealt with in the morning. You made your way to your bedroom in search of clean pyjamas, then continued to the bathroom to brush your teeth, PAL close on your heels.

You had just exited the bathroom when someone knocked on your door. You tossed your washcloth into a bin on top of your washing machine and rounded the hallway to answer it.

Loki stood on the other side, dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and an oversized AVENGERS TACTICAL UNIT t-shirt. “Please, darling.”

“You have your own bed.”

“It’s too big without you.”

“You’re even bigger now. You’ll fill it out just fine.”

Loki stepped into your personal space; he hadn’t even bothered putting on shoes, wearing only a pair of grey wool socks. His hands curled around your hips as if to steady himself. “I’m afraid of the dark?”

“Try again.”

“My room was taken over by starving wolves while you were away and I only narrowly escaped.”

You sighed. You had to admit that it felt nice to have him in your arms like this, even if you knew giving in would only encourage him to lord over more of your time. “Absolutely no funny business, Loki.”

An incandescent grin split his face in two. He swooped in to kiss your cheek, then sauntered off toward your bedroom. You locked the door, made sure PAL was settled into his charging dock for the night, and then followed after your boyfriend.

You found him curled up on the side of your bed closest to the door, facing you, and holding one of your pillows hostage. He buried his nose in the fabric, a pleased sound rumbling through his chest, and watched you approach.

You swatted at him, not even bothering to round the bed, opting to crawl over his body to reach your side. Loki unfolded, abandoning the pillow to gather you up instead; his arms circled your waist and tugged you into his chest in an awkward collision of limbs, legs tangling in the comforter. You squirmed while he maneuvered you to his liking, tucking the length of his body around you tightly and nosing at the junction of your throat and jaw.

“Loki,” you chided. “I said no funny business.”

“This is a perfectly serious matter.” Loki untangled himself from you just long enough to pull the comforter over your body before sliding in beside you. One hand returned to your neck, tipping your chin back so he could press a loud kiss to your pulse point. “You don’t have enough blankets.

You stifled a yawn and pushed him to lie on his back, draping one leg over his. “Why’s that?”

Loki continued to rearrange the sheets with a scowl. “You’ll freeze to death under this thing.”

Already, your eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. You hummed. “I feel like I had more pillows than this. Maybe I’ve finally lost it.”

A small voice in the back of your mind whispered that you loved him, you loved him, you loved- 

You settled with tracing a heart over his collarbone, over and over until you fell asleep.

You woke to the sound of FRIDAY’s voice through the PA system. “Mr. Laufeyson, your presence is being requested on the thirty-first floor. Mission briefing in fifteen minutes.”

You peeled your eyes open. You could tell by the slant of the sun through the curtains that it was past noon - a small victory, really. Behind you, Loki burrowed deeper into the fabric of your t-shirt, nosing along the ladder of your spine while groaning his displeasure. He drew the comforter around you tightly, trapping you under one muscular arm with a vengeance.

His voice, still deep and rasping with the last threads of sleep, rumbled through his chest. “Good morning, dear heart.”

Lovesickness bloomed like a bruise in your chest. “Morning,” you said, instead of I love you. 

You half-turned and pecked the side of his mouth before sitting up. Loki made an affronted sound and reeled you back in by a fistful of your t-shirt, sending you sprawling halfway across his chest. He kissed you soundly, licking into your mouth with a low groan.

You blinked up at him once he pulled back. “Um. Good morning?”

“I was a perfect gentleman all night and you reward me with a peck. ” A scowl twisted his pretty face, petulance dripping off him in droves. His hands slid over your ass possessively, kneading the soft flesh with purpose. “I should have you flogged for that. Put over my knee.”

“Patience is a virtue,” you mumbled.

“Wrong faith, pet. Now- wait, where are you going?”

You paused, halfway through peeling yourself out of his arms (again), and pointed at the ceiling where FRIDAY’s voice reminded him that he was needed in thirteen minutes, Mr. Laufeyson . ”You have a debrief and I have a date with my coffee pot.”

“Not after you so callously rejected me. Come down here and make it up to me.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned in to kiss him again, slowly but deeply. Loki chased your mouth when you pulled away, frustration evident in the heavy way he sighed. Lifting you by the hips, Loki deposited you in his lap and held you there, digging his thumbs into the plush of your sides. Using the resulting sigh to his advantage, Loki cradled the back of your head and bullied your lips apart, pulling a sticky kind of want from your chest, leaving you dizzy and aching all at once.

When FRIDAY gave him a five minute warning, blinking the emergency strobe in the corner of your bedroom for good measure, Loki finally drew himself away and let you catch your breath. His head tipped back against the pillow, his throat on display in a long submissive line, and his shiny mouth parted in a groan. He mumbled something in his mother tongue, your name nestled right between lilting consonants.

“What was that?”

“Nothing important.” 

“One day you’ll teach me what you’re saying,” you grumbled. “And then I’ll know all your secrets.”

Loki lazily arched one brow, smothered behind a curtain of riotous curls. “Is that so? All of them?”

“Mhm. All of it. Every last one.”

You traced a finger down the line of his nose. If ever there was a moment to tell him you loved him, now was probably it. Here, on the laziest of saccharine mornings, while the city outside was muted by a thick wall of snow and you were both ignoring responsibility to enjoy the other. And yet– doubt wove its way through your ribs, tying knots in the hollow spaces in your chest; you rolled off of him and sat up, pulling the hem of your shirt down where it had ridden up. “FRIDAY is going to bring the appliances to life if you don’t leave soon.”

Loki poised himself on the edge of your bed and snagged your wrist when you rounded it. There was nothing to the gesture – no comment, no complaint to make. He held onto you for the simple joy of owning a second of your time.

As if one cue, PAL rolled through your bedroom door, his little paper tray aloft. He chirped in greeting, then ran head-long into one of the bed frame’s legs. 

You tamped down a lingering disappointment. Later. You would tell him later.

“Pest.” Loki swatted at PAL, who had taken to repeatedly bumping into Loki’s shins to convince him to get dressed. You gasped scoldingly when Loki shot a warning green spark in the robot’s direction; PAL, undeterred, narrowed the LED display on his face and wound up, knocking the god extra hard for good measure.

“PAL, go sit in the living room. You can pick something on Netflix for us to watch. And you,” you pointed a finger at Loki. “No threatening the robot.”

You left him to dig through your closet for something to wear; the far corner was steadily developing a growth of black, Loki-sized clothing. While you busied yourself with the coffee machine, PAL chirped at the TV and then parked himself in front of your window with his face pressed against the glass. Once your coffee was poured, you left out the gaudiest mug you owned – chipped, declaring you were Thor’s Number One Fan!, which Loki hated with a burning passion – and a spoon for when he joined you.

PAL beeped distractedly when you joined him by the window; there was a tender tilt to his little head as he gazed out, studying a pair of birds who had built their nest just below. His body shuddered, as if sighing, and his LED display blinked one long, slow blink.

It started as a tiny bundle of twigs a few weeks ago, trembling in the wind but shielded from the elements in the nook between a metal support beam and the windowsill. Then a few pieces of long grass were woven in, and a handful of fresh green branches, still flexible in their newness. They must have finished their home while you were away; two mates were deep under the spell of a snowy Sunday morning, bundled up under a layer of down and straw.

A solid pair of arms wound around your waist, drawing you backwards into an equally solid chest. Loki’s hair was damp where he’d run wet fingers through it, no doubt trying to contain the curling mess of bed head he woke up with every morning. It clung to your cheek a bit, the crown of his head pressed up to your face while he nosed at your shoulder. “Oh, hi– hello.” 

“I don’t want to go,” Loki whined. He rocked you gently from side to side, resting his cheek against yours. “We should feign illness. It’s dreadfully contagious. And then we can—” a kiss, just under your ear, “stay in bed all day. To recuperate, of course.”

“As lovely as that sounds, you really do have to go. You know how Steve gets when you’re late.”

“As soon as I can I’m coming right back up here to ravish you. That’s a promise.”

PAL cooed, excited by some small movement from the birds. One of them had woken to preen the other, sweetly running its beak through its feathers.

“Look at their little nest. How cozy,” you said quietly. “Maybe that’s where my pillows went.”

The longer Loki considered the birds, the deeper the furrow between his brows grew. He seemed to be having a revelation of some kind. “I… have to speak with my brother about something.”

“Something wrong?”

“No. Just a thought. Don’t worry.”

PAL rolled backwards into Loki’s shins with purpose. He chirped sternly, as if chiding Loki in his machine-speak, who, in return, toed PAL’s chassis very gently in warning. 

You laughed. “He’s coming, buddy.”

“Actually,” Loki muttered darkly. “On the contrary. My problem is that I’m not-”. You suspected the next words out of his mouth would have been incredibly inappropriate, had PAL not rolled pointedly over Loki’s foot.

You exited the elevator on the 31st floor a few hours later. A far cry from Tony’s party, the room was empty and mostly tucked away; chairs were stacked on tables and the bar was cleared of bottles; bright, unfiltered sunlight poured through the enormous lofted windows, allowing you an unobstructed view of the skyline and the meandering streets below. A couple of interns were having lunch on one of the couches in the corner. They must have been part of the newest wave of college recruits, because their eyes lingered in a starstruck kind of way that made you feel a little embarrassed. 

You shot them a playful salute. Both startled, turning away in a rush.

Oh well. You couldn’t look Steve in the eyes for your first week on the team– you got it.

You found Loki in the farthest conference room, sat at the end of a long, round table between Steve and Bucky. You watched their fingers walk across its surface, handing a piece of folded paper between the three of them. Steve wrote something while the speaker was turned, then slipped his hand surreptitiously under the desk. Bucky coughed; from your vantage point, you saw his and Loki’s fingers unravel the note so they could read it discreetly.

Some executive droned at the other end, gesturing to a dreadfully laid out powerpoint. Matching manilla folders were spread open in front of the agents; you had a sneaking suspicion that whatever the speaker was saying was also written down and could have been read in half the time this meeting took.

You tried to catch Loki’s eye through the window but his attention was aimless, lost in some faraway place. A thought came to you; you rearranged your belongings to clasp your hands in front of you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you prayed - albeit poorly - to the god sitting a few dozen feet from you.

You peeked through one eye to see if it had worked; through the glass, Loki shot you a private smile, so sweet that it was practically a kiss. You waved him over, jerking your head toward the conference room door.

You watched him interrupt the speaker, his lazy posture rolling forward until he was sitting straight. Steve and Bucky nodded sagely, immediately following whatever story Loki had spun. Bucky pointed exaggeratedly to his metal arm, rubbing it as if it was tense.

The door opened and Loki slipped out into the hallway to meet you. Your grin bordered on becoming painful. Both your hands were folded behind your back. “You didn’t have breakfast this morning.”

“Observant.” He plucked a loose thread from the collar of your shirt and flicked it aside before leaning in for a quick kiss. You decided, even if you couldn’t say you love him, to treat him no less lovingly; you chased him when he pulled away, pressing your lips to his jaw. His grin was dazed, like you’d turned him dumb with the simple act of wanting him. “You’re even lovelier than the last time I saw you.

“I brought you something. Pick a hand.”

Loki walked his fingers down your left arm and pulled; you let him have it, your palm open – and empty. “Oh, that’s too bad.”

“Hmm. Terrible luck.” His knuckles dragged down the length of your other arm. In that hand was a take-out container from your favourite coffee shop, defaced with a smiley-face and cute message from the barista, Yvonne. It was his usual order, nothing special, but when his eyes tipped up to meet yours, there was something uncharacteristically open about his expression, a shy edge to the tilt of his smile. He leaned in and kissed you, soft and sweet like honey. “Do you think they’ll notice if I’m gone much longer?”

“Absolutely.”

Loki groaned, tipping your hips until they were flush to his. He kissed you hard enough to bend you backwards.

“I’ll come by your apartment tonight and we can get dinner?”

His fingers stilled where they were kneading your sides. “Yes, about that. Let’s… Let’s stay at yours tonight. The wolves that chased me out last night haven’t been evicted yet.”

Loki's answer confused you – he’d spent the entire night complaining that you wouldn’t go back to his room, then insulting your blanket choices, and now he wanted to stay at yours? “Ok. That works. Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” he said quickly. “Perfectly fine. You’re so tired though. Easier to stay where your belongings are. I won’t– won’t make you commute.”

You eyed him suspiciously. “Behave today.”

Another groan, this one pitched low; Loki traced your cheek with his nose. “I love it when you order me around.”

“Loki! Be-have.”

“Just one more, nymph. To tide me over.”

You sent him off with three more kisses. You were starting to wonder if you were too lenient with him; he delighted in taking advantage of your weakness to weasel more affection out of you. He returned to the conference room with his little box, opened in his lap under the table. When Bucky made to swipe a grape, Loki flicked his hand away with a glare.

When you returned to your room that evening, with Loki hot on your heels and his hands already halfway up your shirt, you were baffled to find your bed down one more pillow.

“PAL, did you do this?”

He shook his little head, LED screen blinking wide doe eyes up at you. It was the strangest thing, but when he thought you weren’t looking, you could have sworn that he shot Loki a pointed look.

[yourmcu]

Ace

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Gamer!Stark!Reader, Avengers x Reader

Summary:

Your girlfriend, your dad, along with the rest of the Avengers, support you during a VALORANT tournament.

Word count: 4.6k+

Warnings: too much VALORANT descriptions, you can google stuff about it if you want to get a good visual of this story, basically an avengers fic as a whole but i love supportive gf nat >:(

A/n: one of the drafts I left a long time ago! I miss writing for the avengers, so I decided to finish this one.

(completely italic dialogues - casters commentating)

All the hollering from the lounge died down when Natasha practically shoved both Sam and Bucky off the couch, stealing the TV remote in the process. Their basketball game can wait, her girlfriend’s tournament is more important.

“Oh, shoot. Y/N/N's tournament is today?” Sam suddenly remembered and Bucky made a quick detour out of the lounge to fetch Steve and possibly the others. They kind of promised you they'd support your game this time around, with the knowledge that they had free time on the dates of your tournament. Sam snapped his fingers, “Snacks. I'll be right back.”

No, you weren’t a professional athlete; if anything, you’re the opposite. Your wrists move more than your whole body most of the time, you only stay an hour or less in the gym, and you prioritize getting better in Aim Lab than a shooting range.

Ever since women playing in VALORANT E-Sports were normalized, you were one of the anticipated gamers to compete, of course you were on board and signed on to an esports organization and team roster. You’ve made a name for yourself in the gaming industry because of your high IQ and big brain plays. You used your head in every match, every round unlike the majority of the players mindlessly aiming and not landing shots. Because of your career, you’re known for something else and not just Iron Man’s daughter.

Natasha didn’t like the fact that you were glued to your computer most of the time at first. She thought Tony spoiled you too much even as an adult, but she later on realized that you graduated with a degree before settling into gaming. You worked for the Avengers, sometimes as an IT for a big company which paid more than you needed. You were basically set. All of this while you were still pretty young, a little younger than Natasha.

It’s safe to say all of Natasha’s doubts went away. She felt rather impressed and took a liking to you, which developed into something more over time.

From her phone, you chuckled when you heard Sam and Bucky’s shuffling. “We’re not up for another thirty minutes, babe.” On your end, you and your team were with the event's coordinators backstage of the actual place the tourney was held. Natasha always called you before and after your events, just because she was the best supportive girlfriend ever.

“I know, I wanted to set everything up before anything else,” Natasha put you on speaker while she dealt with the TV’s settings. You smiled to yourself, absolutely adoring your girlfriend even more when she was eager and supporting your games. “Are you guys still at the hotel?”

You had to travel out of the country for the tournament. As much as Natasha wanted to go with you (Clint wanted to go too because he ‘needed a break’, you just rolled your eyes at him and laughed), being a full time hero and an Avenger doesn’t mean you get to travel 24/7. She has to be with the team in case something terribly wrong happens, which doesn’t come with a warning. “Backstage, actually. Cloud9 and Misfits are wrapping up their last match right now,” You replied. “I've already warmed up at the hotel earlier. It's crazy how our room fits all of our PCs.”

“Ah, c'mon, you don't need no warm-ups!” Sam teased, hearing you on speaker as he walked back with refreshments and an assortment of chip bags.

You giggled, rolling your eyes at the Falcon’s words. “Stop it, Sam. You know me; I always get tilted when I play too much before the actual competition.”

Sometimes you get anxious and it affects your performance, same goes for when you warm-up too much; you lose focus the more games you play, leaving nothing for the tournament.

Despite Natasha's excitement to watch your team play, she’s not too vocal about it. She wouldn’t squeal when it starts or bombard you with loud encouragement through the call, because one, she doesn’t want to be the embarrassing girlfriend, and two, she’s the Black Widow. She’s naturally subtle about everything. You knew her more than anyone else though, so even if that was the case, you still felt her support.

Thirty minutes went by quicker than you’d hope, you were so caught up in watching the game of the other rivaling teams and commenting on everything that happened whilst still in the call with Natasha. You also answered Bucky’s queries when he came back; he’s only ever heard of e-sports since you started competing in it. He couldn’t imagine how hard switching point of views and the player’s face cameras must be. Bucky has only watched, what, actual live game tournaments, basketball or chess or whatever. It was confusing to him at times, but you told him he’d get used to it eventually just by taking note of the red and blue colors.

You were cut off by one of your teammates placing a hand on your shoulder, signaling you that it was time to go. “Alright. Nat, I have to go, I’ll call you when I get back?”

The two men were the first ones you heard react, Sam shifted in his seat excitedly while Bucky wondered out loud if he should call Tony, Peter, and Bruce, who were all unnecessarily working overtime at the lab.

You felt yourself smile again when she spoke. “Okay,” Natasha bit her lip, feeling anxious about the tournament, “I love you.”

“I love you.”

“Good luck!” Sam shouted before you hung up.

Natasha almost snorted when she heard loud footsteps coming towards the lounge entrance. Her sister had the worst timings ever.

“Someone decided to take a long shit while we were heading back. Has Y/N’s game started yet?” Yelena walked in as fast as she could with Fanny, looking at Natasha expectantly as she shrugged off her thick coat and got out of her boots. Fanny ran to where the couches were as soon as Yelena removed her leash, wagging her tail happily without a clue in the world.

“About to, but you did miss her on the phone.”

“Ah, fuck.”

Soon, Bruce, Tony, Peter, Wanda and Vision came down to watch as well. Your tournaments were one of the occasions the team had the chance to bond and get together in one room, it definitely helped with the morale as Steve would think, and they have you to thank for that.

Everyone was just in time to see you walk out to the stage with your team and the opposing one. You were in your team jersey and arm sleeves with your teammates behind you in a straight line.

Tony woot-ed, plopping down next to Natasha. “Heard Y/N/N's team is going up against a brand new team roster. This should be a piece of cake for her, eh?”

Peter sat down beside him, looking at the said rival team with yours, all lined up on stage. “I don't know about that, Mr. Stark. One of them recently went viral after getting five aces on a ranked game. She's radiant, too.”

Admittedly, he also played VALORANT with you and Ned, but often miscalculates his strength as he frequently breaks his keyboard or mouse because of freaking out whenever he sees an enemy. His reflexes and fighting skills were better off used in real time.

“And Y/N/N's been on the top ten leaderboard for, what, six months?” Tony challenged, evidently confident in your skills.

The chatter on who's better than who died down when both teams sat down on their respective computers. Though it wasn’t that noticeable to most people, Natasha noticed it right away: you were wearing the necklace she gave you. You considered it your lucky charm.

After both teams chose the maps they wanted to ban and maps they wanted to play, the game started.

You mostly play the character - or agent - Killjoy. The agent reminded you so much of yourself from her overall vibe and game mechanic: she had utility to aid the whole team, from turrets to alarm bots, and an ultimate that conducts lockdowns on any part of the map. You were so used to that character that you even played her on maps she’s not very helpful at because you mastered everything about her, which made you stand out from other players as no one would dare use characters on maps they weren't good in. Gears were practically turning in your head as the game loaded.

Then, the first game commenced.

The Avengers always made noise whenever you got a kill, or whenever the casters praised you for outsmarting the opposing team, which Steve and Bucky appreciated because it was hard for them to distinguish whether or not you did something good.

Your team easily won the first game. The Avengers were now watching your tournament on the flat screen TV like a bunch of teenagers watching a romcom, all giddy and filled with anticipation.

“Look at that, 13-1? She’s insane." Bruce shook his head. A team needed to win at least 13 rounds to win, if it's neck and neck, 14, or they may choose to go into overtime.

“I’ve never seen Y/N play with that kind of aggression before; they don’t stand a chance.” Wanda pointed out. She liked to spectate from the side whenever you played at the compound, whenever she could.

Natasha’s lips turned upright when they replayed your team’s best moments. One included your one versus three clutch, in which you threw a taunting, questioning look at the opposing roster across the stage after you effortlessly took out three enemies on your own. It was like their heads weren’t in the game at all.

The team laughed when they showed the exact clip of your face camera mocking the other team across the room. Natasha liked that about you; sure you were reserved and shy in general, but she loved it when all your confidence just comes out while you’re out there.

Another clip was when you had a problem with communication, so you weren’t aware that there were enemies around. Your character didn’t stop running because of that and you were exposed to two enemies. You reacted fast and jumped, pulled out your vandal to shoot both of them in the face.

Tony clapped his hands together at that moment. “Let’s go. Let’s fucking go, Y/N/N.”

Natasha, not all that phased on your brilliant play, could still not contain the smile on her face as she plopped back down on the couch.

“What? Wait, hold on, how did she even-” Sam looked back at everyone while they reacted to the highlight. He didn’t exactly process what happened because you moved too fast.

“God reflexes,” Yelena shrugs, not looking away from the screen. Wanda laughs in agreement.

After a bit of commentary and commercials, it was on to the next match on a new map.

Now, Natasha did not know the difference between the multiple maps at all, but she did remember you mentioning that your weakest one had to do with ice.

The next match was on a map called Icebox.

So, she watched intently as your team took a little while during the agent selection. But in the end, you decided to go for Killjoy again. Natasha could only guess what you had in mind to pull off another win.

“This is highly unusual for [Team Name] Y/N, isn’t it? Right now she’s watching the flanks when we usually expect her to be out there with a duelist to try and take picks!” The caster exclaimed, looking at their partner caster. “She’s one of the strong sentinels who you would trust to be by your side - and look at that, she takes out two already, they did not expect anyone to be holding the flank!”

“But she's using Killjoy again - couldn't she have gone for Cypher or Sage? Then again, they already have Skye on their team.”

Even though you were trying to play smart in this map, you still hated it, it was your weakest one. Still good, but not all that great. The opposing team seemed to know the typical Killjoy strategy on the Icebox map. You got sniped every round and your setups were way too predictable to the opposing team.

Soon, the score was 4-10. It was definitely not good to be on the end of only winning four rounds. Your team had to win the remaining rounds or hope for the best and go to overtime, or you lose this game and go onto the third one which would be way nerve racking and increase the odds of losing.

“Intense match so far we've got here. With [Team Name] Y/N at the bottom of the leaderboard this just has to be a miracle for [Team Name] to get a second win and move on to the next round.”

“There's also a bit of a setback with her shots in the last few rounds. I guess this is when we get to see if she's learned a thing or two from her girlfriend, right?”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “They honestly did not have to bring that up.”

The other commentator expressed confusion at their partner's comment.

“The Black Widow! [Team Name] Y/N's been dating her for the last couple years. Honestly, where have you been?”

Everyone groaned as they started bringing your dating life to the conversation when they should be sticking to the game. Tony chose to laugh it off to and ignore the annoyance, whereas Yelena mumbled, “Did they just turn into a morning show now?”

After everyone in your team died, you all decided to ask for a timeout to talk things out. While that was going on, the Avengers had their own timeout and were trying to talk about the game, or at least what they thought was happening.

“Okay, assuming we've all seen how this Killjoy character works, her character would make most sense if her utility was in Site A." Bruce said, in thought.

Vision, one of the smartest of the bunch, had not grasped the game mechanics that well over the hour and half of the tournament. "But why is that, Dr. Banner?"

“Site A is pretty cramped, while site B has a lot of space. Of course the opposing team would always go to B since Y/N’s character's utility can't place utilities in both sites, they only have limited range," Peter points to the map as soon as it's shown up close, the casters having their own separate conversation about it.

Bucky turned to a confused Steve and Sam, “I have no idea what they're talking about.”

“Where else would she put her chicken gun on site B, then?” Tony joined the conversation, talking about your character's utility placement.

“It’s,” Natasha sighed. “It’s not a chicken gun...”

“Well, that chicken gun slows down enemies, right? It would make sense if Y/N places those bomb thingies to instantly kill them.” Yelena said.

“Lena, I think Y/N is fairly capable of playing the game right,” Wanda chuckled.

“Then she should be winning.” Yelena said jokingly, chugging on her drink.

It was astonishing how a group of heroes are knowledgeable about a video game, just so they could follow what you enjoy doing. That's how much they adored you.

Clint entered the room and looked at the source of ruckus, absolutely sick of the discourse. He was aware of your tournament and has been probably spectating on different means. “They still get another match if they lose this one. It’s the best out of three.”

“I’m starting to think someone’s cheating, has anyone noticed that some of the opponent team instantly kill them with only one bullet?” Steve squinted.

Tony scoffed. “That’s ridiculous, it’s a tournament.”

“It’s because they hit them precisely on the head, Steve. Who wouldn’t die if they got shot in the head?” Sam crossed his arms.

“Me,” that came from Vision.

“You don’t count.”

They all turned back to the screen once the timeout timer ran out. Natasha could sense the tension in your team, just from the way you glanced across the stage… she could tell you were gonna have a different way of playing the remaining rounds. The screen turned to you stretching your neck from both sides, seriousness evident in your face as you clutched your mouse, ready for the game to resume.

“And we're back, and it seems that [Team Name] had enough time to come up with a different game plan. We've got one duelist camping B, one on mid, and look at [Team Name] Y/N's utility. She's got her alarm bot and nano-swarms over on A, but her turret is on B as she's over by tunnel to keep it active.”

“Again, I have no idea what he's talking about.” Bucky shrugged, crossed his arms and kept his eyes on the screen.

After fixing your team's strategy, all that was left was to deliver with accurate shots and stay alive as much as possible. By the end of a few rounds, with your team’s communication and teamwork flawless than ever, the score was 12-11. Your team only had to win one more time to officially win.

At this point, Yelena and Wanda were loudly reacting to the gameplay, Sam and Tony were howling, rooting for you. Clint ended up setting himself on one of the sofa's arms, invested in the match.

Natasha was on the edge of her seat, clutching the couch cushions. She couldn’t help but chuckle when they showed your reaction momentarily, clearly breathless and eyes wide, fist bumping your teammates seated beside you.

“Oh, what a comeback! The most intense so far, am I right?” The caster exclaimed.

“[Team Name] only has to win one more round before moving on to the next part of this tournament!”

The last round wasn’t exactly in your team’s favor in the half. Three of your team got killed already, only two of you remaining and the five of the enemy team. The rival team obviously did not want to hand over the win that easily.

After the call of another successful kill by the opposing team, you were the last one standing against a full set of players. You would either have to clutch up the round or go into overtime.

Clint perked up, pulling out his wallet. “Alright, who wants to get the bets started?” He asked, placing down a crisp fifty dollar bill on the coffee table. “Y/N wins the game.”

They all stopped to look at him as if he was a madman.

“C’mon, Barton, it’s one versus five.” Sam pointed out.

“So what? Am I the only one who believes in Y/N here? Oh, Nat, you better start placing fifties.”

Natasha merely rolled her eyes, not once wanting to bet on or against her girl. Her eyes glued to the screen in which your character is cautiously checking if the area is clear to plant the bomb.

But Tony pulled out the same type of bill from his wallet, placing it on top of the archer's money.

“Mr. Stark, you do realize you're betting against-” Peter started.

“Hush, spiderling. Watch the game.” Tony brushed him off and watched the screen intently.

Tony was proud of you, truly. But it would also be funny to tease you lovingly when you go home as a loser.

You set up your utility, kind of surprised the whole enemy team went to the other site in which they thought you were heading. They did not leave anyone behind to make sure, as per your cautious scan of the area before settling. After checking all angles again, with thirty seconds to spare, you planted the spike.

“This is a dangerous game to play. She has to hold a lot of angles by herself, they could come in from anywhere.”

The spike continued to beep, which added a lot more tension among the Avengers. Natasha alternated from looking at the actual game to your face camera, of which was the only one left colored. You kept pacing at one of the hiding places, waiting for the slightest noise or actions from the other team.

You decided to peek at one of the entrances to the site once, the Jett with an operator narrowly missed your head so you took the opportunity to blast her head off. Afterwards, your alarm bot from the other side of your hiding place went off, so you went and peeked quickly, managing to pick off another player from the opposite team. Two down, three to go.

The Avengers erupted in noise. Sam and Peter were losing their minds, Bucky and Steve had amazed grins on their faces, and Natasha was clinging on to Yelena and Fanny like a fangirl trying to contain herself.

“What was that?!”

“She's a god!”

“My god, this is way too intense for me.”

Both commentators erupted in surprised glee as well. “A double kill from [Team Name] Y/N! The others are slowly making their way into the site, what will she do?!”

A Sova fired a dart to hopefully reveal your location on the map, but you were too quick to shoot it down to cancel it. But, the Sova spotted you anyway, and was able to shoot you until you were at only 50 HP.

You hid again and recalled your turret, placing it on top of the wall in front of you before sneaking your way to the opposite side. It could watch your back while you attempt to peek on the other side to surprise your enemies.

That move managed to catch one of the other players trying to sneak in as well, and you killed them off with ease. Three down, two to go.

“Down goes [Player Name]! Sova and Yoru are still on the lookout, it's like an intense version of hide & seek up in here!”

Barely anyone was talking now, all eyes on the enormous screen.

“Y/N has her ult!” Peter pointed out.

That you did, as your third kill managed to unlock enough points for it. Aware of its availability, you hurried off to the perfect spot to plant it to cover almost the entire site, still hidden from your enemies. Killjoy's voice rang through the game, saying 'Initiated!', when you planted her ultimate.

“What's that? What's happening?” Steve asked.

“Well, it's called 'lockdown', so I'm assuming it's locking off the area within its perimeter... trapping everyone inside...” Bruce said, lost in thought because of the game.

The Yoru activated their ultimate in time with yours, and you were now twice as cautious, looking around for blue swirls of the duelist to avoid getting sniped easily. He tried to blind you, but you were quick to move your view away from the flash to avoid it. Stupidly, the Yoru's ultimate ran out while trying to destroy your lockdown, so you killed them without hesitation. Four down, one to go.

Clint cackled at the turn of events while the others continued to freak out, teasing Tony, a billionaire, on losing a fifty-dollar bet. “What did I tell you, Stark?! What did I tell you?!”

The spike's beeps started getting faster and you could finally see the finish line. But, you were still cautious as they still had more than enough time to defuse if they managed to kill you.

“You know, [Team Name] Y/N could just leave the site at this point. It's game over for [Rival Team Name].”

“Ah, don't speak too soon there! [Team Name] Y/N's now inspecting the outer corners of the site, unaware of [Rival Team Name] [Player]'s sneaky entrance - and she's placed a smoke down, ready to defuse!”

Of course you were unaware of the opponent's whereabouts. But, you did hear the defuse sound go off for a second. With that, you head back, holding a grenade to throw near the area of the spike.

“She's got this in the bag.” Sam said in content.

After a few seconds, the defusing sound started up again, but you were certain that the grenade you set off did some damage to your opponent on top of the information you got from your teammates before they died.

You started to jiggle-peek from your spot, clearly visible from your opponent's perspective, so they had no choice but to stop defusing the spike to try and shoot you.

Unfortunately, they did a number on you, so you decided to go around. Once the cooldown reset on your turret, you placed it down on one side for intel. With only 20 HP left, you snuck up to the other side of the obstacle to hopefully pull off a knife kill for the finale.

“This game is way more intense than I thought.” Bucky spoke thoughtfully amidst the suspense-filled silence.

“Shhhh!”

“Oh my god, she's got her knife out.” Natasha said in disbelief, watching your character sneak up behind your opponent whose back is facing you.

“So?”

“Just wait for it.” Natasha bit her lip, knowing fully well how you always prefer a devastating way to end a match.

The commentators were freaking out, a combination of “no's”, “don't do this”, and “not like this” rang through the Avengers' speakers. It was considered devastating in the VALORANT community to be killed in game with a knife instead of a gun or anything else. The opponent is oblivious, having already defused half of the spike, but they didn't know what would soon come.

You strike your knife at their head, killing them instantly, the spike left undefused. The game graphics became slow motion while the screen flashed green with 'VICTORY' in the middle of it all. You stood up almost immediately, proud of your savage last kill, fist-bumping all your teammates.

“AN ACE FROM [Team Name] Y/N! [Team Name] IS GOING TO THE MASTERS!”

You hugged your team as well before turning to the camera nearest to you, blowing hot air onto the lens, and tracing a heart followed by a cheeky grin and a wink.

“Yup, she's a Stark alright!”

Roars and cheers emitted from the commentators, the present audience, and the Avengers. Sam yelled and everyone followed, but the loudest one was Clint, who then swooped down to collect his cash prize for winning the bet. Tony didn't care at all, laughing along with the others; he had something new to brag about his kid. Natasha's cheeks flushed, as they always did when it came to you.

“SHE WON!”

“I'll get the booze!”

“In your face, Stark!”

“Cap, you stepped on my foot!”

Natasha unlocked her phone to take a quick picture of the livestream of the heart you drew on the camera, as well as of the stage displaying all of your team's headshots with an abundance of confetti almost covering it. All she wanted now was to call you, but she knew you probably had interviews and post-game rituals with your team, and she had champagne to drink with her own team in celebration of you.

The next morning, on a quick flight back home, the first thing that caught your attention was Natasha's Instagram story of the tournament. Your family supported and watched the tourney for you, as the following slides of her story consisted of the team chugging on champagne, Clint showing off an apparent bet that he won, and Peter and Sam posing in front of the TV when your face camera was shown up close.

Smiling, you liked her stories and replied with 'Thank you for supporting me, my love. I'll see you all soon'.

[robertdowneyjjr]

when tony started working for bucky, he never imagined that anything would ever, could ever happen between them.

for starters, bucky was a decade older than tony. not that he had a huge issue with age differences, but still. tony was only in his early 20s when they met.

but more importantly, as far as tony could tell, bucky was happily married.

so despite the immediate attraction that he felt the second he laid eyes on bucky and the growing feelings he began to develop the more they got to know each other over the years, tony knew that nothing could ever come of it and that he needed to be content with just admiring the other man from afar.

but sometimes bucky would say things, or just look at tony a certain way, and he’d wonder if maybe, just maybe, the feelings he had were reciprocated.

regardless, though, he knew he would never do anything about it. there was no reason for him to do such a thing and nothing could change his mind about that.

not even when tony complained about another failed attempt at dating during happy hour one day after work and bucky said, “i could never understand why these idiotic bastards would rather waste another day getting drunk with their equally idiotic friends instead of spending time with you.”

or when bucky took him out for a celebratory lunch after signing a major deal with a new partner and their knees kept brushing under the table, and bucky just kept smiling at him for the whole meal like they were sharing a secret.

also not when they were on the phone with each other at midnight trying to salvage an important client relationship and suddenly the conversation segued into personal relationships and when tony sadly confided that he didn’t think anyone had ever loved him before, bucky vehemently declared, “doll, how could anyone know you and not love you? hell, i’m pretty sure i’ve been half in love with you for years.”

and especially not when they were on a business trip and heading back to their separate hotel rooms after a dinner with their biggest client and bucky kissed him before the elevator doors opened on his floor, and tony’s lips tingled for the rest of the night.

no, tony didn’t do anything about his feelings even after all of that because bucky was married.

then tony meets steve at a big company event, where this big beautiful blond man looks adorably lost and alone in a room with four hundred people. tony can’t help but drift closer to him and introduce himself, offer a drink, and ignore everyone else if only so he could make steve feel more comfortable in this crowd of strangers.

they spend the rest of the night together, talking for hours and giving each other meaningful and longing glances, smiling like they both know where they’d like this to go next. tony’s fingers absently stroke along steve’s hand that is placed on the cocktail table they’re leaning against, and steve’s other hand is playing with tony’s hair and sending shivers down his spine when his fingers brush against tony’s neck, and tony has to resist the urge to rub against steve’s hand like a cat.

steve has just leaned closer, lips and breath whispering across tony’s skin to speak softly into his ear when bucky finds them.

tony reluctantly pulls away from steve, refusing to feel embarrassed or guilty in any way, especially when he knows bucky likely interrupted them just so he could ask tony to get back to work. this is a work event, after all.

but then steve looks at bucky and smiles, and says, “oh hey sweetheart, finally got some time for us?”

and bucky glances between steve and tony, sees how there’s barely any space between them and grins from cheek to cheek. “looks like you’ve met my husband, doll.”

and, oh.

oh.

well.

it looks like tony suddenly has a lot to think about.

[luna-rainbow]

I think people who say "that it's good/healthy for Bucky to adopt Winter Soldier mode in Thunderbolts, because he would give new meaning to the name", have no fucking damn clue how C-PTSD works or how it should be properly dealt with. Because going back to the environment that literally only stands for slavery and torture for decades, and having to adapt it as part of oneself is NOT healthy at all!

I'm no expert on the subject of psychiatry, but I don't think you have to be to realize that having Bucky (i'm pretty sure he's being forced in some way for that) have to adopt what the Winter Soldier entailed is terribly unhealthy for him! We precisely saw him struggle with that in TFATWS! Needless to say, the Winter Soldier is a state Bucky would never want to return to.

And what's worse is that of course, Marvel isn't going to do this as "something healing" or "good" for him but as one of their endless attempts to vilify him and make him look like a "reformed former villain". And that this implies making him fall in the "bad guy" or "anti-hero" category that has absolutely nothing to do with what Marvel has shown us of him for 13 years.

I'm sure the only people who are fine with this idea are the ones who think the Winter Soldier is cool and of course don't care about Bucky's character development at all.

I have a feeling I'm going to hate Thunderbolts with all my being...

Hey sorry about the late reply, I haven't been on Tumblr much.

Having missed most of the height of Stucky fanlore in 2014, I only recently learned about Thomas Paine's quote on "the summer soldier" (and conversely, how Steve himself is the metaphorical "Winter Soldier"):

The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph.

The summer soldier, in other words, is someone who will only step up when it conveniences them. Hence, the opposite of that -- "the winter soldier" -- is the person who keeps fighting against tyranny regardless of how hard the conflict becomes. That describes Steve Rogers to a tee.

I think Bucky would have been well aware of the meaning of "the summer soldier". In this context, I think it makes sense if he wants to reclaim the title "the Winter Soldier", not just as a nod to what Steve stood for, but because what greater tyranny than having one's mind broken bit by bit until nothing remained? And what greater triumph to have survived all that and still want to do good?

But as far as "the Winter Soldier mode" is concerned? I don't think Bucky ever went there in all the iterations we've seen of him, except when he's directly mind-controlled. Even in CACW when he was willing to use his skills, he still held back from killing the soldiers and later on, Tony. He was also holding back in most of his battles in TFATWS.

(Spoilers for TB below if you want it)

In any case, the movie was too light on the Bucky content to even get into the complexities of reclaiming the Winter Soldier nor touch on any of Bucky's healing journey. It did, however, firmly have Bucky on the good side. The incidences where Bucky's past as the Winter Soldier is mentioned are surprisingly positive:

Bucky tries to get Mel (Val's personal assistant) to step up as a witness against Val, and promises to protect her. She asks if that would be the Congressman or the Winter Soldier.

Later on, she does contact him and asks him to track her phone and he says he "doesn't do that anymore" but does anyway, eventually ending up saving the Thunderbolts

The nod to the Winter Soldier moves as Bucky saves the Thunderbolts

Alexei being all heart-eyes "Mr Soldier" towards him

Yelena, who is snippy with everyone (including even Ava when she's super frustrated), never snaps at Bucky and listens when Bucky tells her he's been where she's at (mentally) and suggests to deal with the demons now in order to move past it

Mel later calling Bucky frantically again and tells him he needs to do something about Val's crazy plan to create Sentry (because there's no Avengers), and he promptly rolls up his sleeves and drives to New York

You can read it as "the world still associates Bucky with the violent Winter Soldier even if he's a politician now" or, I prefer to read it as "the skills of the Winter Soldier, in the control of Bucky, is used to protect others"...as it always has been.

[crazyaboutto]

What a shit show on Twitter and Reddit

This account is MCU!Natasha hate-free

I can’t believe people in 2025 are still pitting actresses against each other. Scarlett is talented. So is Florence. Yelena got her chance to shine and get character development well without being sexualised to hell and back

Meanwhile, Natasha was sexualised since IM2 to Endgame by all those male writers, directors and ofc Joss whedon. Whedon who basically cut her off in most scenes and made Nat Bruce’s nanny/mother/lover. Then in CACW, it was just about Tony and Steve. She got sidelined. She barely had screen time in AIW and ofc got killed off without much scenes in EG. Not to mention her leadership for 5 years between AIW and EG got taken from her the moment men (Steve and Tony) who weren’t even in the team anymore got back to Avengers HQ.

Ffs her suits throughout years until aiw were sexualised too. And all those posters showing arse or boob or thinning Scarlett’s waist. Or giving her heeled boots for no reason other than “women should look hot”

As much as I love Black Widow movie, Yelena got more spotlight than Natasha. And also by adding countless widow, they also basically made Black Widow title worthless

Scarlett Johansson walked so rest of female superheroes can run. From being the only female superhero in the team, we now have multiple female superheroes in teams. She didn’t have her scene in “A-Force” Easter egg despite she starting female superhero in MCU in 2010. She didn’t even fight in EG ffs. My EG hatred is coming back

Florence Pugh basically says this too, e.g. how much Scarlett helped her. She would say “what a fucking idiot” to those commenters since she knows her character would get the same treatment if not for Scarlett pushing for better after getting more power in the industry. She also knows if it was 00s and 10s, her character would be sexualised af like Natasha

And all those people are complaining about Scarlett and Nay while none are saying anything about Joss Whedon, Jon Favreau, Christopher Markus, Stephen McFeely and Russo Brothers!!

Men get away with anything they screw up whilst women get criticised for the things that aren’t in their hands

We deserve more Widow sisters scenes. We deserve better writing for Natasha. We deserve sexualisation free Widows

I still wish they kept comics origins and certain character relationships such as Alexei being Nat’s ex and BuckyNat (I’m also Romanogers shipper) instead of free styling

Oh gosh Bucky was pretty much side character as well but they developed him well over the years along with all male heroes. Clint too was sidelined and he was just there and he got time and opportunity to shine but they didn’t have time for female lead of Avengers movies and freaking leader of Avengers

[bucks-babe]

hi!! i’ve had this concept in my head for a while and i love your writing style so i thought you would be perfect to ask. so reader is new to the compound, like helping out in the lab but not necessarily on the team, and because of that when she tries forming relationships with people on the team she’s kind of pushed to the side. bucky sees this and feels for her since he was kind of treated the same when he was new, so he starts becoming friends with her and building a relationship with her. then he starts involving her in things the team does like dinners or movie nights. and when they’re around each other the team can obviously see that they like each other as more than friends. you can develop it more from there but that’s kind of the base line for my idea!!

Pairing: Bucky x f!reader

Summary: Being new to the compound isn’t easy, luckily you have a supersoldier on your side

Warnings: Slight angst, fluff, reader wears glasses (no other description of reader though), Bucky thinks reader is cute, Tony is kind of a huge dick, vague implications of smut but no smut (blink and you’ll miss it), I suck at endings, they are in love, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 2.780k

“Hey, uh, Glasses, I need you to run these samples for me.” You look up and see Tony walking into the lab, straight to your table. You look around, not sure if he was talking to you, but you’re alone in the lab, given that it was almost midnight, but you had to finish the reports from the samples that Steve dropped off in the morning.

You were swamped in work, not even taking a lunch break, desperate to finish everything so that you could go back to your room in the compound and take a shower. It felt like you’ve been stuck in the lab for days on end. The Avengers having back to back missions and you being the only lab tech without a family to go home to, you were stuck working insane hours.

“Mr. Stark, can these wait until the morning? I'm still working on the reports from Captain Rogers.” Tony heaves a great sigh, clearly exasperated by your reluctance to do his work, knowing damn well he can run these samples a lot quicker with the help of F.R.I.D.A.Y. but he just doesn’t want to. Might as well make the overworked lab tech do it.

“The old man can wait until tomorrow for his report, just get mine done. If he has a problem, he can take it up with me. Goodnight, Penny.” And just like that, he walks off. You know for sure that he didn’t hear you correct him when he got your name wrong. Honestly, where did he even get Penny from? You’re so stressed you feel like you could cry, which pisses you off more. It made you feel weak when you would cry when you were frustrated but you couldn’t help it.

It's been like this since you got the job at the compound. At first you thought that this would be an amazing opportunity, getting to work side by side with the Avengers. In reality, you stay cooped up in the lab most of the day, getting overworked, and only see the Avengers when they stop by to give you more work. 

Of course, you understand that being a superhero is hard work, but a little courtesy goes a long way. It would be a nice change of pace if someone acknowledged your efforts. You push Steve’s reports to the side and start working on Tony’s samples, knowing that this is going to take all night, but you don’t really have a choice. It needs to be done and you’re the only one in the lab.

The sound of the door opening jolts you awake, a piece of paper stuck to your face with drool. “Hey, do you have those reports for me?” You groan and look at Steve. The clock on the wall reads 6:03 AM, ever the early riser, Steve is. You must have fallen asleep sometime last night trying to finish the work Tony gave you, which is just as incomplete as Steve’s reports.

“Sorry, Captain Rogers, Mr. Stark gave me an urgent request that needed priority.” You keep your head down, ashamed to look at him. 

“I gave you those samples in the morning. How are the reports not done?” He has his hands on his hips with the disappointed father's look on his face, making you feel even worse. You really are trying your best, but you’re burnt out and can't do everything at once.

“I’m sorry, I’ll have them done by early afternoon. I can drop them off if you’d like?” God, you feel so stupid! Steve just waves you off with a “I’ll come back after lunch for them” and leaves you to your own thoughts.

You get Steve’s reports done before lunch and continue to work on finishing Tony’s when the lab doors open again. Without looking up you slide Steve’s reports to him. “They’re done Captain Rogers.” 

“It’s not Steve.” You push your glasses up on your nose and see Bucky standing before your table, quite awkwardly as well, shuffling on his feet with his right hand in his pocket, left hanging down limply at his side.

“Sergeant Barnes, how can I help you?” You’ve always had a crush on Bucky, but he was the only Avenger who hasn’t come into your lab - ever. Matter of fact, he avoids the lab like the plague, which is understandable given that he was experimented on for years. 

“It’s my arm, I can’t move it.” After a few seconds of silence he adds on, “The metal one. Usually, I can recalibrate it myself but I think it has something to do with the plates.” He looks so vulnerable; Bucky’s not used to asking for help, rather always helping someone else.

“I can take a look at it if you want.” You assume that’s why he came down to the lab, not just to chit chat with you. He nods and you lead him to a lab chair. “Can you take your shirt off for me?” Bucky’s eyebrows hit his hairline and his jaw drops. “I need to see your arm, Sergeant.” Now both of you are blushing.

It takes him a little while but he gets his shirt off and stares at the floor, embarrassed of the scars surrounding his arm. “Can I touch your arm, Sergeant?” Bucky eyes widen; he’s not used to someone asking permission to touch his arm. If he doesn’t wear his gloves in public, people will stare and point, some even trying to touch his hand to get a better look at the silver arm. Bucky hates it: the arm, the stares, the scars, everything.

He mumbles a confirmation and watches you work on his arm. He thinks you’re cute, with glasses that make your eyes look slightly magnified and how you stick your tongue out when you concentrate. You’ve always hated your glasses, thinking that they make you look bug eyed, but Bucky thinks that it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. There are bags under your eyes, which makes Bucky frown. Stark is overworking you.

After a few minutes you look up and see Bucky staring at you and you both quickly look away. “One of the plates near your shoulder came loose and disrupted the signal to the rest of the arm. That’s why you couldn’t move it. It’s fixed now and you should be good to go, Sergeant.”

 Before Bucky could say anything, Tony enters. “Penn, those reports done yet or are you too busy with Terminator over there?” You ignore Bucky’s confused who’s Penn? and give Tony the finished half of his reports, hoping against hope that he won’t tear you a new one in front of Bucky.

“Uh, Glasses, where is the other half?” 

“I didn’t get to them all last night and then Captain Rogers needed his reports this morning. I’m sorry, Mr. Stark.” Not only did you not finish Tony’s reports on time, but you were also late with Steve’s, on top of getting minimal sleep and not eating. The humiliation is seeping through your pores. You’re letting your idols down in real time, seeing their disappointment right in front of you.

“I told you to prioritize my samples, not Rogers.” Bucky is still in his chair, watching, ready to jump to your defense. He doesn’t like the way Tony is talking to you. Little do you know, but Bucky sometimes comes down to the lab to watch you work, never entering, God no. He’d look like a creep. But the sweet lab tech caught his attention the moment you arrived.

“I know, but I fell behind and Captain Rogers said-”

“I don’t care what Rogers said. I told you-” 

“Back off Stark, if you want them done, do it yourself.” Bucky was pissed; you are too sweet for your own good, letting people boss you around and bending over backwards for them. Not when Bucky is around.

Before Tony can continue to argue with Bucky, F.R.I.D.A.Y. calls him away for a meeting, leaving you and Bucky in the lab alone. “Sergeant Barnes, you didn’t have to do that. Those reports should have been done anyway; it was my fault.” How pathetic is it to have someone you hardly know see your faults.

“He shouldn’t be talking to you like that, doll. You’re only one person and you're doing your best.” He’s a lot closer to you now and you can smell his cologne, making your head feel all fuzzy. “Thank you for helping me with my arm, too.”

“Thank you for letting me, Sergeant, I know that was difficult for you.” You’re looking up at him through your thick frames, eyes larger than they actually are, bags under your eyes, but Bucky thinks you’ve never been prettier. Or maybe it’s because he’s never seen you up close, but you are the most gorgeous woman he’s ever seen, 40’s or not.

“Call me Bucky.”

After that, Bucky was in the lab almost everyday. For a while he would claim to have some strange ailment until you told him that he didn’t have to feign injury to visit, which made him blush. He would spend his lunch in the lab, making sure that you were eating, too. Bucky is a very observant man, and on his trips to the lab, before he first talked to you, he would see how overworked you were and how you barely ate. 

He made it his mission to keep you well fed and get you out of the lab at a decent hour, giving a death glare to agents trying to drop off samples after a certain hour. 

Outside of the lab, Bucky was your only friend at the compound; although, he’s never hand fed Steve in bed while watching old movies. Bucky felt comfortable around you, even more so than with Steve. Bucky and you had a special bond - he would confide in you when you would both be awake at the unholy hours of night and you would do the same. He trusted you not to tell anyone else and, to him, it was easier to talk to you than Steve.

Steve had a tendency to look at Bucky as if he was a sick puppy, and Bucky hated that, he hated the pity. He didn’t want to be treated like precious glass, and you allowed him to be vulnerable without making him feel like he was falling apart.

Some nights you both would fall asleep in bed together and wake up entangled, those nights were Bucky’s favorites. You were so soft and even though you were so much smaller than him, you made him feel safe and protected. His sweet doll in his bed, keeping the nightmares away. 

He loved the way you would squint and search for your glasses on the stand next to the bed, whining when you accidentally knocked them to the floor, or stabbed yourself in the eye trying to put them on. 

The entire dynamic of your friendship changed one night. Bucky doesn’t know who moved first, but the two of you kissed, and Bucky can’t remember kisses ever being so good. The two of you only kissed that night, nothing further, but it was the best night that either of you had in a long while. From that day on, he was your old man and you were his old lady.

You both decided to keep your relationship a secret for the time being. You didn’t want the other lab techs to think you were getting special treatment and Bucky didn’t want to deal with the teasing from Sam or the questions from Steve. But Bucky loathed when he would be forced by Steve to join movie nights, alone, without you. Steve wanted what was best for his friend so he would force Bucky to get out more; little did Steve know that Bucky had the best girl waiting for him to come over.

He could tell that you were let down whenever he had to participate in “team bonding.” You wanted to be valued by the team, yet you understood why they never invited you; you weren’t an Avenger, just a lowly lab tech. Nonetheless, it broke Bucky’s heart to see you so despondent, which is why he asked you to join the next movie night, team be damned.

“Come on, doll, it will be fun. I promise.” Bucky holds you close to his chest, laying down next to you under the covers. You roll over, naked chest to naked chest, body still shaking, and bury your face in his neck, breathing him in.

“I’m not even a part of the team, Jamie. What will all your teammates think, huh? The great Bucky Barnes and the weird lab tech: A perfect match. No, they won’t.” Bucky gently grabs both sides of your face, both metal and flesh warm from previous activities, and makes you look him in the eye. 

He’s a little blurry since you aren’t wearing your glasses. The lenses would smush against your face everytime he would kiss you with anything more than a chaste kiss, and Bucky Barnes is a passionate kisser in bed. At your slight squint, he pulled you closer to his face so you could see him clearly; blue eyes holding nothing but the utmost love and devotion.

“I don’t give a damn what the team thinks, you hear me? You are my doll and I want to show you off. My sweet little lab tech who’s too kind for her own good. Let them all know how perfect you are.” Your resolve is crumbling like it does every time he looks at you. It is an overwhelming feeling, being the light of someone’s life, being showered with so much love you feel like you can’t breathe, but each breath fills up your lungs with joy and hope.

Bucky nuzzles his nose against yours and you both know you’ll say yes. You’d follow him to the ends of the earth, just as he would for you. “Okay, Jamie, I will, for you.”

Movie night is a week later and you’re on Bucky’s lap where he sits on the recliner. It’s his unofficial seat whenever Steve forces him to these things, stuck in the corner of the room away from everyone else with no seat next to him. At first, no one notices you on Bucky’s lap, curled up into him with tangled limbs not able to tell where Bucky begins and you end. 

Steve is the first to notice, doing a double take at the extra bulk in Bucky’s seat, and just as Bucky is observant, so is Steve. Steve had a suspicion that there was something more to Bucky’s disappearances during lunch and the extra food he would take after dinner. Steve just smiles to himself and faces the movie once more, every so often glancing back at the two lovebirds in their own world.

Bucky has no clue what movie they are watching, his sole focus is on you. You had a long day in the lab, yet you held true to your word to join movie night with him, but being curled up in Bucky’s arms was your favorite place to be and before long you were sound asleep, holding onto his metal arm, using it as a pillow. As gently as he could, Bucky took off your glasses and put them atop his head, falling asleep himself before the movie was halfway over.

Sam was the second to notice, and let the rest of the team know as well. “OH. MY. GOD. Tony, where is my phone? I can’t believe this.” The rest of the team look at each other in confusion, following Sam’s line of sight, they see you wrapped up in Bucky’s arms, the both of you sound asleep. 

“Is that…Glasses?” Comes from Tony.

“She’s so cute!” Slips from Wanda.

“Who’s Glasses?” is followed by a slap from Nat with a hissed “Thor, shut up, they’re sleeping!”

“Tony, my phone! I need evidence.”

“Terminator’s getting laid?”

“We’re watching Indiana Jones, Stark.” 

“Thor, inside voice, we’ve talked about this.”

The teasing from the team is endless the next day, but Bucky doesn’t have it in him to care, he has his sweetheart by his side and they know better than to provoke Bucky. Coincidentally, Tony offers to take some of his samples back to test them himself; Bucky insists that he must have had a change of heart, you don’t believe it for one second, but Bucky will never admit to anything. After all, he has to take care of his sweet girl. 

[loversrocktvgirl2]

my mini multiverse of madness…

Undercover (Steve Rodgers x Reader) 

“Rodgers! Y/L/N!” Nick Fury walked into the Avengers tower, calling both your name and Steve’s. You got up from where you were reading at the table, and Steve walked into the room. Tony snorted at how much more respectful you both were to Nick than he was. Nick shot Tony a look, and returned his attention to you. “I’ve got a mission for you both. It’s undercover, aliases, the whole ordeal.”

You nodded, and so did Steve. “What are the aliases?” you asked curiously. Steve glanced over at you, then looked back at Nick for him to answer the questions. 

“You two will be posing as a young married couple at a gala. There’s a man who works at Hydra who has a good amount of intel, and he’s bringing his wife. Your best in will be to small talk the information out of them. Should be easier, considering there’s going to be a lot of champagne and probably other forms of alcohol,” Nick informed. 

You felt like your eyes were going to pop out of your skull. Young married couple?? The thought already made you nervous. Acting like you were married to Steve… it sounded both like a dream come true and your worst nightmare. You had definitely developed a pretty big crush on him, which was going to make this easier, yet more difficult. And how were you supposed to focus if you kept concentrating on him and acting like you were married? Ughh, why did Nick have to give you this mission? Granted, you would’ve been jealous if he’d asked Natasha to pretend to be Steve’s wife, but you were nervous as hell.

Little did you know, Steve’s nerves were jumping off the walls of his insides as well. He adored you. He thought you were the cutest, most incredible human on earth, and he would love to pretend to be your husband for the night. His biggest fear was that something would accidentally slip out, and he’d end up confessing his feelings to you. And that? That was terrifying. What if you thought he was crazy and never wanted to be around him again? What if you felt uncomfortable dating a guy who was technically ninety-six? Of course, he still looked twenty-seven—he felt twenty-seven— but he was from a different time. Worst of all, what if you just didn’t like him, at all? Horrifying thought. Nope, no way he was going to confess to you. He was going to keep his mouth shut as much as he could possibly help, and hope that nothing slipped out while you two were on mission. 

“Conveniently,” Nick continued, and you snapped out of your thoughts. “You, Steve, are physically impossible to get drunk. If he challenges you to a drinking contest, you do it. But keep an eye on how much he drinks. You want him loose-lipped enough to get some information out of him, but not so inebriated that nothing he says is coherent. Find the balance.”

Steve nodded in understanding, and Nick turned to you. 

“You know as well as I do that wives often know more than they let on. If you can get his wife comfortable enough with you, I would see what information she has to offer. She might be a valuable asset,” Nick suggested. 

“Sounds like a good idea,” you answered. 

In the kitchen, Natasha leaned over to Tony and whispered, “what are the chances you think Fury’s putting them together to see if they’ll actually get over themselves and go on a damn date?”

Tony’s brows furrowed. “Fury? Really?”

Natasha shrugged. 

“I mean, you or me I could definitely see doing that, but Fury? Man’s all business,” Tony said. “It’s annoying, actually.”

“Okay, sure, but a young married couple?” Natasha pointed out. She was still keeping her voice done. You and Steve weren’t terribly far from the kitchen as you listened to Nick explaining the details of the mission, and she didn’t want her conversation with Tony heard. 

“Yeah, that’s a little suspicious,” Tony admitted. “It does work for the mission, though.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Natasha said, a hint of agitation seeping into her voice. “I’m just saying. I think that Fury’s put them together intentionally.”

“Do you wanna place some bets?” Tony offered. 

“Ten bucks they get together, five bucks Fury chose this for them intentionally,” Natasha replied, crossing her arms across her chest. 

“Deal.”

Tony shook Natasha’s hand. 

— — — 

Steve was dressed in a suit and you were wearing one of your favorite formal dresses. He was in the driver’s seat of the car, driving you both to the gala. “You ready for this?” he asked. 

“Sure am,” you lied through your teeth, smiling at him. 

Steve gave you his fist, and you fist bumped him. “Mr. and Mrs. Wright,” Steve said with a smile. 

“That’s right,” you nodded. 

“Or Wright,” Steve quipped and you started laughing at his cheesy joke. He grinned at you. “We’re gonna do this…” he said in sing-song as he pulled into the parking lot of the venue. “Remember, if you’ve got anything we need to talk about, you tap a glass three times and I’ll meet you in the resting room by the bathroom.”

You nodded in agreement. “Fancy. A resting room by the bathroom.”

Steve laughing. “Sure is.” He got out of the car and walked around to open your door. He held out his hand and helped you out of the car. 

Once you were in the venue, you each got a drink and began to mingle around, looking for your targets. You tried to stay relatively close together, trying to act in a way that would make people think you were a newly married couple. 

Steve nudged your arm slightly, nodding toward a small group gathered near the dance floor. Your target and his wife stood at the center, clearly enjoying the conversation.

“I’ve got an idea,” Steve said. Before you could ask, he was already leading you over, stopping just close enough to catch the attention of the man’s wife.

“Excuse me,” you said with a warm smile. “We’re new to these kinds of events—do you mind if we join you?”

Her face lit up with the kind of politeness that came with social etiquette. “Oh, of course! We were just talking about…”

And just like that, you were in.

— — — 

Soon, you were talking to the target’s wife—her name was Amanda Jefferson—making small talk to get her more comfortable with you. “So, you’re newlyweds? That’s exciting,” Amanda grinned at you. 

“Yes, we are,” you smiled. 

“How long have you been married?” 

“About eight months. He’s just…he’s amazing, I love him. He’s been a pretty consistent part of my life for almost five years now, and I just… I can’t picture life without him anymore.”

Amanda’s face softened. “I’m so happy for you.”

You grinned. “Thank you so much.”

Amanda took a sip of her wine, her smile faltering just slightly as she turned her glass in her hands. “That’s wonderful,” she said, her voice quieter now. “It’s nice to have that kind of certainty.”

You tilted your head. “You don’t sound convinced.”

She let out a soft chuckle, but there was no humor in it. “No, no, it’s not that. I just—” She hesitated, as if choosing her words carefully. “It’s refreshing to hear someone talk about love like that. Like it’s… easy.”

You frowned. “Love isn’t always easy, but it should feel right, shouldn’t it?”

Amanda exhaled slowly, her gaze drifting to the other side of the room, where her husband stood, engaged in conversation with a group of people—none of whom were her. “I suppose so.”

You followed her gaze. “How long have you and Mr. Jefferson been married?”

“Six years.” Her fingers tightened slightly around the stem of her glass. “Feels like longer.”

There was something almost weary in the way she said it. You watched as she glanced back at her husband again, her expression unreadable but distant, like she was seeing something—or someone—you couldn’t.

“Six years is a long time,” you said carefully. “But… that’s a good thing, right?”

Amanda’s lips pressed together in a thin, tired smile. “Sometimes.” She took another sip of wine. “And sometimes, it’s just… time.”

— — —

Meanwhile, Steve was having a drink with Mr. Jefferson, who seemed relaxed but ever so slightly calculating—like a man who never truly let his guard down.

“You seem like a man who appreciates the details,” Mr. Jefferson remarked, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

Steve gave a polite nod. “I try to be.”

Mr. Jefferson smirked. “Good. I respect that.” He set his glass down and adjusted his cuffs. “Actually, I think there’s something you might find interesting—some files I keep in my study. Would you care to take a look?”

Steve met his gaze evenly. “Lead the way.”

— — — 

A couple hours later, you tapped your wine glass three times and gave Steve a look—he’d returned recently from looking at the files with Mr. Jefferson—and then walked to the resting room. A moment later, Steve excused himself, and joined you in the resting room, closing the door behind him. “Oh my God, she hates her husband!” you whispered to Steve. His eyes widened. “She told me a bunch of stuff,” you whispered. “Like the vault in—”

“The vault in Brooklyn!” Steve whisper shouted. 

You grinned. “He was talking to you, too?”

“Well, he’s kind of drunk now, but I got to see a bunch of files. I memorized the code he put in,” Steve said, keeping his voice down still. 

“Oh my God!” you whisper shouted back. Then you heard footsteps approaching, and someone was about to open the door. Shit. What if they found out what you and Steve were doing here? Suddenly, Steve cupped your face in his hands and kissed you. You were shocked but quickly fell into it, and then the door opened. 

A man walked in. “Oh, sorry, guys. I’ll just… leave you alone.” And he left. 

You turned to look back at Steve. He looked nervous. “I’m sorry, it was the first thing I came up with and—”

Before you could rethink your decision, you cupped his face with your hands and pulled him back to you, kissing him again. He immediately started kissing you back, his hands finding your waist and barely holding you there. He was tentative, careful. When you broke away, you said softly, “we should probably, uh, go back to work.”

Steve shrugged with a slight playful smile. “Eh. He’s drunk off his mind anyway.” 

You smiled and he pulled you back, kissing you again. “So…” you said a moment later. “Should we go home…?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, looking at you affectionately. “And maybe…maybe I can take you on a real date tomorrow…?”

You grinned. “Yes.” 

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - Week 23 - 616

Tomorrow is June 16th, or 616 Day for those who celebrate. So this list is a day early, but here’s a list of my favorite 616 Stevetony fics. I had to limit myself to only two of Sineala’s fics because otherwise this list would just be a lot of that OR very very long, and then I couldn’t keep to the normal seven because THERE ARE SO MANY EXCELLENT FICS!!! 

I will admit that I have a huge soft spot for 616 Stevetony and fic, because they have so much history, good and bad, to play with. It’s complicated, messy, sweet, and heartbreaking. 

Plus, you know. Secret identity. 

So anyway, here’s some favorites of mine, and happy 616 day to every Stevetony lover out there! 

~

Relativistic Heat Conduction by BlossomsintheMist

Age of Ultron-based, but not entirely canon compliant. Written for the 2013 Cap-Iron Man Reverse Big Bang. Ultron has attacked, obliterating most of the world's superheroes and resistance in a matter of hours. The remaining heroes band together and share what strength they have to get through it, to survive, and defeat Ultron once and for all. Steve Rogers grieves in the wake of the disaster and the heroes' defeat, and no one knows if he will be able to provide the leadership they need--but Tony Stark isn't about to let him slip away that easily.

Orbiter Dictum by schmevil

Steve is at the sink, washing the few dishes that pizza for two generates, when he realizes that Tony is in love with him.

All I Ever Needed is Twice Removed by Mizzy

Tony Stark believes he is just a soulless copy of himself.

What if he's right?

now I worship a celestial sun by haemodye

The thing that gets Tony the most is how long it takes him to notice.

Not Steve, or even the other Avengers, but Tony himself. It takes Tony almost two whole weeks to figure out that he’s unable to disobey a direct order from Steve, which just- what the hell is that? What happened to the days when he flew off the handle, unable to play well with others, a notorious wild card?

“God, don’t tell me I’m getting old and predictable,” he says, rubbing a hand over his forehead. And then, “Fuck.”

A mostly-comedic farce involving: 1 obedience spell, 2 pining Avengers, 1 long-suffering Sorcerer Supreme, and 1 single, extravagant Saint Patrick's Day float.

I'll Give You Gifts Until You Know My Name by Dr_Amuly 

Mr. Stark is an extravagant gift-giver: he has the money for it, after all. As Iron Man, Tony has the opportunity to gift Steve even more presents that, while less expensive, are more heartfelt. Having a secret identity means Tony gets to have his cake and eat it too when it comes to showering Steve with presents.

Until Steve starts developing feelings for his armored companion, and all the benefits of living a double life are turned on their head for Tony Stark.

i will never stop losing my breath (every time i see you looking back at me) by Anonymous

In all fairness, Tony is on autopilot when this happens. He’s had a long, hard day, and it’s possible he hasn’t slept in several long, hard days. He’s already half-asleep on the couch and he’s relaxed and happy, which is a rarity on its’ own, and he’s comfortable enough to let his guard down and get his body to do all the work without switching his brain on.

That should’ve been enough of a warning sign, but apparently not: Tony stretches, says goodnight to his teammates and gets varied responses back, and then he kisses Steve.

He only realizes what he’s done after he’s started to lean back, opening his eyes to see Steve’s blown wide, staring at Tony with his lips gone slack and a tiny furrow between his eyebrows.

To Make Much of Time by Sineala 

When Iron Man rejects Steve's romantic advances, Steve is disappointed, but of course he understands -- Iron Man's secret identity is important. But when a portal opens and Tony Stark crashes into their midst from twelve years in the future, Steve starts to suspect that there are more secrets here than he can even begin to comprehend, and neither Iron Man nor Tony are providing any answers.

Thrust Issues by Sineala

A battle gone wrong leads Tony to the unexpected and pleasant discovery that Steve is much more well-endowed than he could ever have imagined. But when Tony learns that Steve has never actually been able to sleep with anyone because of his size, Tony does what any good friend would do: he offers to relieve Steve of his virginity. Personally. Tony's determined, Tony's methodical, and Tony has a plan. He's going to get Steve laid. Tony just needs to make sure Steve never finds out that Tony's in love with him.

The Truth of It Is by nightwalker

You can't lie to your soulmate, everyone knows that. Tony's always thought it was just hype until he tries to sass Steve and the words freeze in his throat.

Truth by valtyr

Captain America takes truth serum. Tony is all over that.

[sweetpumpkinpieinwithcoffee]

Beginning, Middle and Everything Else (Part.2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Domestic life at the Stark Tower has always been something. Things seems to be back to normal between Y/A and Bucky even if she can't help but remark some new little attentions he has for her. And then, there is this night... and maybe not everything is that casual? Basically, it's just a lot of fluff and pining.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: humor, fluff, light language, idiot in love A/N: Hello, I'm back with the following chapter. You kind the first one here. I do believe you can read them separatly though as a one shot. Again, English isn't my first language and truth be told I didn't proof read this before posting. Anyway, I hope you will like this new installment.

You can read Part.1 and Part.3 now. Enjoy 🥹

Have you ever had to go grocery shopping for an Avenger? No. Well, imagine having to go for an athlete doubled with an eight year old. Now multiply this by the number of people residing in the Stark Tower at the current time. You already have your head spinning? Well that was basically what was happening to Y/A. Left alone with Clint and Natasha, the girl was basically fighting for her life and a box of chocolate. 

If she had listened to Clint, her cart would have been filled with only pizza and the occasional macaroni and cheese (those were always a hit on wednesday nights, especially if Yelena was making it her way). If she had listened to Nat, true the cart would have been a little bit healthier BUT the number of vodka bottles would have been astronomical. Not that the former Russian agent was alcoholic, rather the team liked to party way too hard sometimes. And vodka was always easy to sneak into any glass or cup. 

“Can we take gummies?” Asked Clint while they were waiting at the register. 

“For the hundrest times, no. We still have some in the kitchen.”

“No, we have the strawberry kind, not the blueberry ones.”

“Do you want the blueberries just because it is purple and it matches yours and Kat’s signature?” Nat asked. 

“Maybe.”

“Then no. Don’t need it.”

“I knew I picked the wrong team to go grocery shopping.” 

“Believe me when I say I thought the same thing ten minutes ago when you two were bickery around ham.” Y/A said while paying. “Can’t you behave for more than an hour?”

“You wouldn’t either if you had to stay stuck for days with this one in a vent.” 

“It was years ago!” Bite back Natasha. 

“Children, mommy would like some peace.” 

“You do know we are heading back to the Tower, right?” Asked Clint. 

“Killjoy.”

“My pleasure.” 

Truth be told, while grocery shopping was a pain in the ass, getting back to the Tower was even more painful. You adored your new teammates and roomates but really they could be loud. Especially when food was involved. “Do you have my lemon pie?” Would ask Steve who had developed such a sweet tooth since he had left ice. “Where is my Coca?” Would ask Tony before being reprimanded by Pepper for not asking politely. “And my beer?” Would half shoot Thor if he was there. It was all fun and game until they were digging into the bags, making a mess of everything. Children, those super-heros were just children with super powers or capacities. 

“Or too much money.” Would complet Yelena when you finally found the time to rest. “Practically sure Tony wouldn’t have done half the stuff he did without all his money.” 

“I’m not sure. He is a good guy deep down. And also, he has his brain.” 

“Yeah, yeah… that is true.” 

You had found yourself on the roof of the tower, enjoying the summer sun and a little bit of peace. Truth be told, you were quite content to not have been sent on a mission in some time. You could actually take the time to rest and fix some old injuries you had never really looked for. Plus, one of the upside of not being on duty call meant spending more time with the girls. 

“Want to go clubbing tonight?” You asked. 

“Always down. Think about anywhere in particular?” 

“No. Probably to the Pachamama. To remind me of France.” 

“You've been missing it a lot lately, aren’t you?” 

“Well… I had really good memories there and I haven’t been in years.” 

“So the Pachamama it is!”

But by the end of the day, you never made it. 

————————————————————————————

“So you are telling me you just got your periods?” Asked Yelena right behind you as she was holding your hair.

“Yeah.” You couldn’t help but throw up again. The pain was excruciating. Why was it that doctors and searchers had found a cure for men who couldn’t get their penis up but none of them had found the time for a cure for difficult periods? 

“I guess our little trip out is cancelled then?” 

“What is cancelled?” 

His deep voice filled the room in an instant and you couldn’t be more mortified. Not because your head was presently in the toilet, even if that was already a bad situation, but more because of your outfit. A night out at the club meant little clothes and involved a lot of glitter. You were young and you wanted to have some fun, some intent of a normal twenty-something years old life. Tonight, you had opted for a really short black short and a “dress” made in chane and glitter. High heels boots complemented the outfit and you were feeling badass. Well, up until you felt the first sign of your cycle and had to bolt to the toilet. 

“Sure it is just your period honey?” Asked Wanda while rubbing your back. “You look pretty pale too.” 

“Losing blood can have that effect.” You mumble. 

“So what is cancelled?” He asked again. 

Your situation with Bucky had kinda shift after the cookies a month or so ago. You had started to notice weird signs from him. Now it was almost impossible for you to seat near anyone but him at any debrief, somehow he had clocked your favourite mug and made always a priority of keeping it warm if you need tea or coffee. He had, regarding that matter, also clocked your preference: coffee in the morning or later in the day only if you had stayed up too late, past 10a.m and until the end of the day it was tea and infusion. Bucky was also the first to spot now when you were feeling down and the first to help you work through the high and low of being a public figure. He also magically always had your favourite chocolate ready after a particular rough mission. The shift was weird. 

“We were supposed to go out tonight but Y/A isn’t feeling good.” 

“Shit. Something you ate maybe?”

“Not that kind of sick.” You mumble while resting your head on the toilet (gross, you thought but it was cool and you thought maybe Wanda was right and you had a little bit of a fever). 

“Oh… got everything you need? Pad, tampon ?”

“BARNES.” Almost screamed Wanda.

“What?”

“I’m just surprised.” 

“Of me knowing about this? Hon, it’s not the 1950’s anymore.” 

“Remind me your age again?”

“Do shut up. Hey, Y/L/N, how are you doing?’ 

Instead of responding directly, you started throwing up again while hot tears ran down your cheeks. Wanda calming rub in your back stopped for a millisecond before being replaced by a stronger and wider hand. 

“Ok. Girls, go to your night out, I got her.”

“But…” Started Yelena, your ponytail still in her hand.

“No but, have your fair of fun and I’ll make sure she survives the night.”

“Go girl, don’t make me waste your night.” You said while you can. “Take pictures and I want to know everything in the morning.” 

“Ok honey…” Said Kate. “Buck, be nice to her and make sure she has her hot-water bottle with her.”

“Will do. Now go.” 

It was a matter of minutes before the sounds of their feet stopped echoing in the hallway and you could hear the door closing. Such a fun night in perspective. 

“You can go Barnes… I’ll be fine. I think the worst is over.” You said while attempting to stand up. That wasn’t your best idea since your head start spinning and you had to regain control by putting an hand on the sink. “Shit.” 

“Like you said. I’m not going anywhere until you don’t feel better. Or at least until you are sleeping.”

“So what? You are playing my daddy tonight?” 

At his loss of words, you looked up and found him as red as a tomato. His pupils were dilated and fixed on your mouth. Shit, had you said something that would bring back his old Winter Soldier self? 

“You alright there?”

“Yeh. Yup. Sorry, my brain froze for a moment.” 

“Could see that.” 

“Let me help you to go to bed.” 

“Can do myself.” 

Well, that you thought. You made two steps before needing the wall to stay up. 

“Shit.” 

“Ok. You tried your way, let’s try mine now.” 

You couldn’t say anything before being picked-up, bridal style, and being kinda crushed against his chest. He smelled good. You had never really paid attention to this but Bucky did smell good. A mix of soap and his aftershave that subtle but very pleasant. 

“I can walk.” You suggested. 

“That you demonstrated very well not two minutes ago.” 

“Do shut up. I’m ill, and you don’t make fun of ill people.” 

“No Doll. I won’t.”

It was your turn to be silent for a moment and you could feel the heat in your cheek. But if it was the heat of your fever or something in reaction of what he had said you weren’t able to tell. 

“Lead the way to your room.” He spoke softly and for one moment, you completely forgot what was the point of your evening anymore. You could only focus on his arms around you and the smell of his clothes. 

————————————————————————————

Y/A’s room was two stories above where he had found her. Just like all the other rooms, it was very large. Nothing Bucky had ever known back in the 50’s when he and Steve had first shared a living-room while keeping an eye on his mother and then in their tiny studio right before the war. 

And just like all the others it was such a personal space. Nothing the others would have chosen for themselves. This room was clearly yours. The colour, the furniture, the decor, everything seemed to scream “Y/A lives here”. Bucky smiled to himself. It was funny to be here. 

“You can drop me on the bed and I’ll be fine. For real.” Said the girl when he stepped inside. 

“Dropping you on the bed, I can. Leaving you alone? No.”

“Bucky, I’m fine, really.” 

He put her gently on the bed and then started to look around. He was positive that if this was a recurrent pattern for you you would have your hot-water bottle on the ready. Unfortunately, it was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he went straight for what looked like a pyjama you had left thrown on a chair and grabbed it. 

“You have to put this on.” He said gently to her. “And you also have to tell me where you put your hot-water bottle.” 

“You really don’t need to do this.” Y/A said while trying to leave the bed and joined her private bathroom. Unfortunately, while you were very not drunk, you were struggling and fell by tripping on your own feet. 

“Ouch.” 

“And she said she doesn’t need help.” In a matter of seconds he was scooting you up in his arms and taking you to the bathroom. “Do you also need my help to get out of this… dress?” 

You flushed a little. “Be careful soldier. One could think you are flirting with me.” 

He flushed back a little. He hadn’t thought about the undermeaning of his words before it had been too late. Not that he would mind taking off your clothes in another context but… “Or one could think I’m just being helpful and considerate to my… friend?” 

“Oh! Is that what we are now?” Y/N asked while battling with the fastening of her dress. 

“If you want too.” He said, considering he might have put more hope than it was needed in his tone. 

“I don’t know Bucky, only two weeks ago you could barely look me in the eyes.” 

“You are very small.” 

Y/A smiled back. “Touché. But still, is that what we are?” 

“It’s what we could be.”

“Then ok. You are helping a friend take off her dress.” She said while offering her back to him. The zipper was clearly stuck. 

Putting a gentle hand on her right shoulder he unzipped slowly the delicate material, past her shoulder blades, her mid back, until the top of her ass. He had to hold his breath and his gaze. She was clearly following his movement in the mirror right in front of them in the bathroom. 

“Thank you friend. That was very helpful.” 

“No problem, friend.” 

He couldn’t help but notice the light pink spreading on her cheek and the way her eyes were stuck on his in their reflection. 

“I should… yeah.” She gestured to her dress, the pyjama in her hands and the bathroom. 

“I’ll be waiting here.” He said softly. 

“Again, you don’t have to do all that. I’ll be fine and it isn’t in your job description to take care of me.” 

“Yeah, I know. But you also are more important than just a job description.” 

This time she was bright red and he considered if he hadn’t gone too far with his observation. She disappeared quickly into the bathroom and closed the door without another word for him. 

————————————————————————————

The rain had started outside the Tower and Bucky was pacing inside your room. Y/A had been taking an unusually long time to change out of her dress to her pajama. He figured maybe you were doing your nightly skincare routine, something he had seen Nat do more times than he could count when she wasn’t out on the job. 

Nevertheless, the minutes dragged on and a tight knot of concern began to form in his chest. That’s when the sound came, a dull thud, as if something had fell in the room were you were. He felt his heart stop in the moment. 

“Shit. Y/N? Is everything alright?” He called out. 

Silence. 

“Y/A” He tried again, closing the small space between him and the closed door. “Y/A? I’m coming in.” 

He pushed the door open forcefully to find you on the floor, your pajama rightfully on but you were struggling to brace yourself as you tried to sit up. 

“Shit, Doll, what happened?” As he was saying so he move to your side in a flash, crouching next to you, scanning for injury with frantic eyes. 

Y/A blinked up at him, sweat beading on her forehead. “Think it might be more than just my period.” She said weakly, her voice not much more than a whisper. “I just felt dizzy and then…”

“You are burning up.” He muttered, gently lifting you in his arms again. This time he noticed how you didn’t protest, simply letting your head fall against his shoulder. 

Carrying Y/A to her bed, he laid her down with care before going back to the bathroom where he found a bottle of water he filled before coming back. 

“Drink a little. I’ll look for some meds and I’ll be back.” 

“I must have some Advil under the sink.” She said. 

He went again and laid the little box on her bedside table after giving her the medicine. Silently, he vowed to stay by your side as long as you would allow it. Soon enough Y/A was sound asleep. Outside, the rain was still pouring, the others would probably cut short their plans if the weather kept being that awful. The room was in the dim light of the bedside’s lamp, warm in the rich colour you had chosen. 

Time passed. Y/A’s sleep was difficult. Turning and trashing, fighting against the fever and something else. Bucky couldn’t only stay and watch. His only movement was to put a cool cloth on your forehead or stroking your wet hair back from your face with trembling fingers. For all the time he had to tend to others he hadn’t felt this anxious. He couldn’t and wouldn’t leave your side. 

At some point he thought he heard the other coming in but no one made its way to your room. Probably they thought you were sleeping and didn’t want to disturbed you. He was glad they didn’t though, he could stay with you and wouldn”t have to explain to anyone the state of worry he was in. Besides, he also thought the fever was coming down, meaning it was nothing that serious. A difficult virus you would have caught after pushing yourself yet again. 

He didn’t sleep that night. Just stay close, your hand in his, eyes on your face. When dawn find its way in the room, you started stirring, showing some signs that you were trying to wake up. He took back his hand and straightened in his chair. Slowly, your eyes opened, meeting his tired, worried ones. 

“You stayed?” Y/A croaked, voice still light. 

He couldn’t help but give a weak smile. “Of course I did. You don’t leave a friend in such a bad state.” 

She smiled faintly but it felt real. Bucky couldn’t believe it was addressed to him. Y/A then extended a febrile hand toward him. Gently, he took it with his hand of flesh. 

Maybe he would be fine, as long as he could keep you by his side. 

[gunsandspaceships]

Tony and ambition

Did you guys notice that MCU Tony never wanted powers? I mean, he could become a supersoldier – he had stabilized Extremis after all. But after he cured Pepper and healed his own wounds in Iron Man 3, we never heard about the technology. He could develop anything for himself, even become immortal. But he never did that. Only used external temporal enhancements – suits and nanoparticles.  

He didn't try to become richer. He was born a billionaire. He maintained the wealth but did not greatly increase it. His net worth was always about $10-20 billion. For comparison, the net worth of a real person Elon Musk is $195.3 billion. Tony could get richer. He had everything to do it. And still, he didn’t.

Or power. He could get anything – more political influence, rule Sakaar (What If? S 2, Ep 4), make a wish to rule the Universe, instead of just wiping out Thanos and his army in Endgame. He did not do any of that. Or anything like that.

He wanted to create “a suit of armor around the world” not because he had ambition, but because he knew what’s coming and wanted to prevent it and save lives. He never wanted more powers than necessary to save people.

He could be the commander of the Avengers, but he gave it to Steve. With all the credits. Because he didn’t want any.

What he really wanted – to get rid of the necessity of having superheroes. Like him. He just wanted to go home.

Do you remember his funeral? Did it look like a pompous farewell to the savior of the entire universe?

[supercap2319]

It's my birthday. So I wanted to ask for one of those NSFW imagines that you do...

Steve Rogers surprising y/n on his birthday (the newest member of the team) by letting him eat his cake (his ass).

Y/N's birthday wish had come true about six weeks before his actual birthday was due. It was like something out of a movie where the main character lands their dream job, or in Y/N's case, his dream team.

Ever since the Avengers first appeared together to save the world, Y/N wanted to be a part of the team. He studied hard in school, played sports, and even the occasional computer classes, but what got him the job was the powers he developed. The power to control the very weather all at his fingertips. Nick Fury was impressed, and after a trial run, Y/N was officially the newest member of the Avengers.

Everyone was welcoming. Sure, Tony liked to pick on Y/N because he was the rookie of the team, Steve, aka Captain America, always had his back. Y/N couldn't help but fall for the Captain. He was so nice and kind. He showed Y/N the ropes on missions, and he never lost his patience with Y/N. Even when the situation called for it.

Y/N and Steve were an inseparable team after the first few weeks. Steve would teach Y/N everything he knew from battle techniques to planning and strategizing. In return, Y/N had shown Steve how to work a phone and the internet. What memes were and social media. That's probably how Steve found out it was Y/N's birthday.

The young Avenger didn't want to make a spectacle of his birthday, so he didn't bother telling anyone about it. Y/N figured he could spend a quiet Friday night alone with some Netflix. He was wrong.

Y/N enters his room to find Steve waiting for him on his bed with a small smirk on his face. He wore a blue bathroom and fuzzy red slippers. This was so different from the "old man clothes" as Tony liked to call them that Steve usually wore. His blue eyes were shining with a hidden mischief. "Hey, Y/N."

"Hey, Cap. What's up? How did you get into my room?"

"J.A.R.V.I.S. let me in. Hope that's fine with you?"

"Of course. Did you need something?" Y/N asked, eyebrows raised at Steve's attire.

Steve stood up and walked towards him. Y/N frowns and gulps as Steve gets closer until he can see the flecks of black in baby blue eyes. His lips are pink and plump. So full and shining with some sort of coat. Probably, lip bomb. "It occurred to me that today was your birthday today, and you didn't tell anyone. Why?" Steve looks at Y/N.

Y/N blushed and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "I didn't want to make a big deal about it."

"You should. We're a team now. We celebrate everyone's birthday together. But we can tell the others tomorrow. For now, I have a cake for you." Steve smiled, but he was also blushing very hard, which made him look even more adorable and innocent than he usually did.

"You baked me a cake? You didn't have to do that."

"It's a different kind of cake. And I need you to frost it for me. I can't reach back there."

Before Y/N could ask what that meant, Steve dropped his robe and revealed he was wearing a patriotic thong. Captain America turned around, and the floss of the fabric was so tight around Steve bare ass crack and made his white boy cheeks even bigger than they were and believe Y/N, he's seen Steve in his suit. He knew those glutes would be big.

"Steve, what are you doing?" Y/N blushed, but he couldn’t deny he's actually fantasized Steve doing this just for him. Showing him America's ass.

"I told you. I want you to frost my cake with your tongue. Maybe you'll give me your frosting?" Steve pulled the thong to the side of his cheeks and exposed his pinkish hole. It winked at him. "Please, Y/N?"

Y/N looks shocked. Was Steve really giving him his ass for his birthday? He must be dreaming, right? He pinched himself. He wasn't. This was real, and so was Steve. Steve wanted it. The pinnacle of American dreams was right in front of him, shaking his tight ass.

The young Avenger walked towards Steve and bent him forward against the bed as Y/N spread those golden boy ass cheeks and began to lick Captain America's ass like a dying man.

[natashaslesbian]

Hi! How about Nat, Yelena and Wanda stumbling over a young teen while raiding a hydra base. They take her in and try to be the family she never had. Some small angst with fluff

We Can Try

Word Count: 1.9k

Parings: (WandaNat x Teen!Reader) (Yelena x Teen!Reader)

Warnings: Hydra and Red room mentions

A/N• this isn’t proofread as per usual lol (thank you for the request!

————

You couldn’t move. The straps were so tight around your waist you felt as though all the air was being squished out of you. The needle was seconds away from your skin when the alarms began, everyone scrambled to investigate what was happening, leaving you stuck in the medical lab. You pushed and pulled with all your strength but the muscle relaxers were already kicking in. It was no use, the sirens were blaring and your ears began to ring.

Upstairs, the avengers were making their way through the base. Natasha and Wanda were far ahead, as Yelena held off the last few guards. Fury had recently received new intel that Hydra was operating in a near by underground base. It was rumoured that another version of the super soldier serum had been developed and was soon to be used on human experimentations. The raid was going well, Steve, Tony and Thor had managed to distract a large number of guards outside, allowing Natasha, Wanda, Yelena and Clint to make it inside. Bruce was waiting behind in the jet incase of a code green. Clint held off more guards from a distance as the girls made their way down to the lower floor.

Yelena sprinted to catch up to her sister and the witch, having taken down a group of guards/scientists. The three of them found the medbay and waited outside. “Wanda we clear?” Natasha said. The witch delved deep into her mind to listen out for any dangers “there’s someone in there” she said, Yelena clocked her gun ready for another fight. “No no” Wanda whispered “I think they’re….they’re afraid” she said, struggling to find the words ‘test subject’ the blonde lowered her gun but kept it close to her incase of an emergency. “Okay, approach with caution, they may have already been injected with the serum” Natasha said.

Yelena was the first to enter, Wanda held the doors open for her incase she needed to attack. The two were followed by Natasha, who stopped dead in her tracks when seeing you. The agents froze as they took in the sight. A young girl, no older than 15, thrashing weakly against restraints, tears landing in a large puddle. “Hey” Natasha gently said. You snapped your gaze towards the agents and immediately switched off your emotions. “It’s okay, we’re here to help” the widow said quietly, as not to startle you. Wanda cautiously approached you, holding up her hands to show that she wasn’t a threat. “Let’s get these off you, yeah?” She said.

Yelena stood guard by the doors as Wanda removed your restraints. “Can you sit up?” the witch asked. You tried your best but your body was too weak. “Wanda” Natasha said, getting her attention “Norflex” she said as she lifted up an empty needle, labelled with the muscle relaxing drug. You felt tears stinging your eyes as you struggled to hide your emotions, your vision was starting to blur and the drowsiness was creeping in. “Alright, I’m gonna carry you okay sweetheart?” Wanda asked. “N-no please” you mumbled “we’re not gonna hurt you” Natasha calmly spoke as she slowly approached “you’re safe now” she said. “M’kay” you stuttered.

Wanda carefully lifted you from the bed, cradling your shaky body in her arms. “You’re okay” the witch cooed. “Tired” you whispered “I know sweetheart, just keep your eyes open for us, just a little longer” Wanda said. The widows led the witch carefully back through the base and back up towards the quinjet. Yelena looked back to check on you, noticing your eyes fluttering closed “Nat” she said. “Crap” Natasha remarked “let’s just get her to Bruce” she said. Wanda picked up her pase as best she could and you carried you onto the jet where she gently placed you down onto the soft bed.

~~~~~~~~

It was Bruce who made the deduction to sedate you, he said it would be the safest way for him to be able to reverse any effects of the drugs you had been injected with. You were out for around 14 hours, allowing Dr Banner time to take some blood as well as treat your injuries. Wanda and Yelena took turns sitting with you and getting some sleep, Natasha on the other hand refused to leave your side.

In your first moment of conciseness, you figured it had all been a dream and when you opened your eyes you would see the same four grey cold walls. You felt the softness underneath you, it confused you. When Natasha noticed you were stirring, she instructed Yelena to find Wanda. Soon enough the three of them were at your bedside. “Sweetheart?” Wanda called. The lights nearly blinded you when you first tired to open your eyes, you screwed them tightly shut and furrowed your brows. “Y/n?” Natasha asked. You peeled your eyes open slowly to see the same three faces you had seen before you faded out.

“Hey sweetheart” Wanda said as she came a few steps closer, you tensed up slightly making the witch pause her movements. “You’re at the avengers tower” she said calmly. You looked down across your arm “ta-take it out” you mumbled when you saw the needle poking out from your hand. “It’s just medicine y/n, you’re a little malnourished and we need to get you better” Natasha said as she rose from her seat. “How do you know my name? What did you do to me?” You cried quietly as you tried to sit up. Wanda and Natasha silently cooed at you and helped you to relax slightly.

Yelena came to the foot of your bed “we just took some blood y/n, to make sure you were healthy. We ran your dna through our database just so we had some information about you” she said. “Nothing bad has happened to you I promise, I’ve been here the whole time” Natasha assured. “You’ve been asleep for a little while and our doctor took a look at some of your wounds” Wanda added. You slowly took in all of the information and asked many more questions that the girls were happy to answer. Bruce discharged you a few hours later and you took residence in a spare room next to Natasha and Wanda, you assumed that they were an item as they shared a room.

It was a lot to get used to, the plush bed and the light pouring through the window were so foreign. You sat silently in the corner of the room awaiting your next instructions. Yelena was the first to pay a visit, she brought you a delicious spread of fruit and chocolate. The widow attempted to get you to open up but you remained silent for most of the conversation. About an hour later, Nat and Wanda came to join you. You where unsure of the company at first but soon the four of you settled into a comfortable silence. “What happens to me now?” You asked, breaking the silence. The three girls stared blankly at you, “where are you going to send me?” You said. “Sweetheart” Wanda began “no one’s going to send you anywhere, this is your home now” she said. “Yeah for as long as you want it to be” Yelena added.

You pondered for a moment, your home? Could you really fit into this place? You didn’t know anyone here and this life was so alien to you. So far it seems that you can trust these women, but in the back of your head that little voice was telling you that they would never care. “Y/n?” Natasha said placing a gentle hand on your shoulder “we know what it’s like to feel like you don’t belong. All three of us came here under similar circumstances to you” she said. “You did?” You quietly asked. “Yeah, Yelena and I, we were in a place called the red room. We were taken from our families as kids and trained to be assassins. I was lucky enough to get out and a few years later, I found my sister” Natasha said looking over at Yelena. “And Wanda…” Nat began, unsure if she wanted her to continue. You looked over to the witch, “I… my brother and I, we were in Hydra, a long time ago” she whispered. “You were?” You said, feeling more connected to her than ever. “I was. Y/n I promise you we understand and I promise you that we care, we’ll look after you” she said, taking hold of your hand.

~~~~~~~~

You decided to stay at the tower, and it was surprisingly easy to settle in. You got super close with Yelena and she helped you to begin finding your own identity. Natasha and Wanda were always looking out for you, making sure you had everything you needed. They were almost motherly to you, and deep down you loved their affection. Fury and his team were in the process of getting you a citizenship, he kept you out of the loop as much as he could but a problem quickly appeared.

A week later you were sat watching a film with Yelena when the red head and the witch came to see you. “Yelena do you mind if we speak to y/n privately?” Natasha asked her sister. “Sure” Yelena said and excused herself to made mac and cheese. You tensed up as soon as they sat down beside you. “You’re sending me away aren’t you?” You quietly asked. “No sweetheart we’re not I promise” Wanda said “but we do need to speak to you about staying here” she finished. In order to gain your citizenship, you needed to have a legal guardian or a parent as you were still a minor. “So what does that mean?” You shyly said. “Well, it means that someone, or maybe two people need to become your guardians” Natasha said. Both women had small smiles on their faces and it took you only seconds to understand what they meant.

“You guys?” You asked “you’ll be my guardians?” You said in disbelief. “If you’d be okay with that, we’d love to be” Wanda said. “So…like parents, like a family?” You whispered. “If that’s what you’d like sweetheart” Wanda said. “Y/n we care about you a lot, we’ve seen how much you’ve grown since you’ve been here and we don’t want to loose you” Natasha said “wands and I don’t know that much about family but we can learn. We want to be the people you depend on, the people you can talk to about anything, we want to be the family you deserve” she finished. You were overwhelmed with emotions, no one had ever shown you so much kindness. No one in the tower had seen much of your emotions, but in that moments you couldn’t stop the tears that began to fall.

“Y/n?” Wanda said, fearful that this wasn’t something you wanted. “What do you think Kid?” Natasha asked, scooting closer to you. You looked between both women, amazed at this moment. “I think, I think that we can try” you mumbled. It was mere seconds after that the damn broke and you fell into Wanda’s embrace. “Oh sweetheart of course we can try” she said. Natasha shuffled closer and wrapped her arms around the two of you. “My beautiful girls” she said. You melted into their warmth, feeling safer than you ever had before. Things weren’t certain to be smooth sailing, but with Natasha and Wanda by your side everything was certain to be okay.

————

Taglist<3

@saraaahsstuff / @dannipotatoo / @tobiaslut / @a-simpfortessa-lesbriean / @marvelnatasha12346 / @yelenasdiary / @mousetheorist / @ashadash0904

[ronearoundblindly]

How does mermaid reader feel about Steve? Like what is her take on their relationship?

just fair warning if you keep writing I’m gonna keep asking questions lol.

I...don't know what happened with this, but it was kinda fun! (unedited, not long, no real warnings except, yeah, he's a human and you're a mermaid, semi-angsty fluff!!)

Steve Rogers x deep sea mermaid!Reader from Sun, Salt, and Shield

Steve is a novelty.

Originally, you just considered him a split-tail with a crown of morning sunlight and high-ocean eyes. Later on, you learned it's called 'hair,' but a closer translation based on how mermaids see it is a 'mane.' Steve has a golden mane--something no one in your species has--hence, you think of it as a crown.

You were caged when you first saw him. That made you assume certain things when Steve walked up to the Raft's tank. Even in near darkness, his mane is bright. No other person you've encountered so far has that.

You're curious, frankly, but on-guard as always.

When humans are deprived of sleep, they can hallucinate, and mermaids are no different. You thought he was a complete figment of your imagination until Stark interacted with him, until Steve stepped into the water and put pressure across your heart and hips. The push of his hand, forcing your head against his chest, could have made you howl in relief.

All you wanted was to rest, but something in the back of your mind also told you not to scare him.

Stark, you don't mind scaring, Chuck is right where he belongs, excreted out into the industrial filters beyond the wall of your tank, but Steve? He must be protected.

He sees you. He listens to you.

You did not thing surfacers could do that. Not really. Not nicely. All humans want to do is control and take, use and abuse. However, you aren't afraid of them. You absolutely can kill any one of them that gets closer than you'd like. They're fragile.

But the way Steve grips you? Maybe he's not so fragile...

English is freaking hard. You learn quite a bit from Tony and then practice with Steve. You can feel his patience but love earning his admiration more. You find yourself wanting him to be proud of you and your progress.

You love making Steve laugh. It takes so long to figure out how to amuse him.

Numbers are a pain in the ass to learn because they have a concept, a symbol, and a written word. That's the point Tony halts teaching you to read alongside the verbal language. You threw a fit. He threw a fit. He left in a huff to cool off. You shrieked for Steve to come back for hours.

Eventually, when Tony returns, you threaten to eat him, and he calls it quits for the day.

Tony knew you favored Steve Rogers from day one. He planned to use that knowledge--and to some lesser extent, he did--but soon Tony simply realizes making you happy makes Steve happy...plus you cooperate and become an ambassador of sorts in your home realm.

You keep learning for Steve, not for Stark.

Mermen are, in your experience, domineering and uninspired. Their immense size differential to mermaids is useful to the brute-force model of society deep in the ocean, but they are boring. Your father is not stupid though. Almost none of them are stupid. Simple-minded remains the best translation you can manage.

Steve fascinates you. His attention to detail, his open nature, and his empathy are entirely new to you.

Mermen don't hide their baser instincts, so they freely ogle and flocked toward the most physiologically attractive mermaids. No interest in what's beneath the surface, ironically. Very shallow.

That's not to say bonds aren't possible. They absolutely are. Bonding with a partner is secondary at best, an afterthought most often, and unnecessary at worst.

Yet again, Steve wins you on every level--he has a sharp mind and acknowledges yours, he challenges your development without critique, and, lastly, he's quite attractive for how small and smooth he is.

"Should've seen me before," he once mumbled after you explained all that as well as your vocabulary would allow.

You don't know what he meant by that.

Because a certain level of indifference is common in couplings of your species, you were quite alarmed, embarrassed, and uncomfortable with how deep your affection for Steve became. You know how other humans react to you, and it doesn't build much confidence that one of them could feel this way about you.

During these long, repeated hugs with Steve, you realize that it's not just curiosity, or the novelty of his existence, or interest in learning from him: you feel about Steve how others feel about their mates.

Not gonna lie: that's terrifying. You don't actually know if Steve reciprocates. Sure, he explains human couples in great detail, and he shows you some of what he means, but all that could be...part of teaching you.

Until Steve discusses kissing, you convinced yourself he could not possibly harbor romantic affection for you.

It's lips against something, he says, that's all. His lips can press anywhere and boom! you've been kissed. He illustrates by kissing the back of your hand, kissing your cheek, kissing your forehead.

By now, your face is cradled in his hands. You can hear his heart racing as he sits on the steps in your pool and leans toward your body. His high-ocean eyes are shadowed as he looks down your face, captivated by--

"--your beautiful lips," he says, gently pressing his atop yours.

It's difficult to describe why something so simple hits so dramatically in your mind. The golden-maned man, almost the strongest of his species, amongst the softest of yours, kisses you like he needs to learn you, like he needs your existence, like he's curious.

There's a phrase you hum at the back of your throat once he releases you and sits up, a dusty rose painting his neck and cheeks.

"Swim beside me."

The better translation to English would be "I love you," but you haven't learned that yet.

Thank you for asking!

A/N: why am I crying?????

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