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bucky-fricking-barnes · 5 months

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Someplace Like Home

Title: Someplace Like Home

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 8.3k

Warnings: Canonical violence, minor injuries, minor blood, non-descriptive mentions of hospitals, mild language

Summary: Y/N owns a hostel in Croatia. When the very handsome Grant comes to work for her, she falls hard and fast for the new handyman.

A/N: This story takes place between Civil War and Infinity War, when Steve is on the run. There are a handful Croatian phrases/words used, which are translated at the end of this fic. Don’t ask me why all my Steve stories suddenly have foreign languages in them. As always, thanks for reading and supporting my writing in all the ways you do. Enjoy!

Dividers are by @firefly-graphics

Your morning starts off slow, like it always does, and after the handful of guests have finished breakfast and left to spend the rest of the day at the beach or in the mountains, you settle yourself behind the front counter and pull out your laptop. The dirty dishes can wait until later—Ana will be here in an hour, and she prefers doing the dishes over going over the books, so you have an unspoken deal that you’ll do the bookkeeping if she cleans up after meals.

You’re just opening up the software on your laptop when the front door opens. The bell above it jingles as a man steps in, bringing with him a warm gust of air. June has been unseasonably cool, but today is the warmest it’s been in weeks. You’ve kept most of the windows open all morning, even though it was still a bit chilly.

“Dobro jutro,” you greet. You carefully shift the laptop off to the side a few inches, being careful not to mess up the carefully arranged papers you’ve sorted out on the counter.

“Kako vam mogu pomoći?”

The man has a gray hiking backpack slung over his shoulder. He’s tall and blond, a dark blond that looks golden in the light from the outside but brown in the shadows. His thick beard and mustache are well-trimmed. You automatically open up the leatherbound reservation book and reach underneath the counter for a key.

“Dobro jutro. Uh, govorite li engleski?” asks the man. He smiles politely, and you smile back, nodding.

“Of course,” you answer. “How can I help you?”

His eyes move to the pen in your hand, already poised over the next open spot in the reservation book. “I’m not here for a room. I’m here about the opening for a handyman.”

Surprised, you close the book again and tuck it back under the counter where it belongs, along with the key you’d grabbed. No one has come about the open position since you’d posted it months ago in the local cafe. Not even a sign outside the hostel has helped.

“In that case, my name’s Y/N. I’m the owner here.”

“Grant,” he replies, his hand already held out for you to shake.

You oblige with another smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Grant. Can I ask how you found out about the position? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around town.”

He nods once. “I just moved here from Italy, and from Switzerland before that.”

“So you’re making your way through Europe, then?” you ask. You’re not entirely surprised—he looks rugged enough that he could handle a long backpacking trip or several months of solo travel, unlike some of the college students you normally have traipsing through your village.

“In a way,” he answers. “Truthfully, I’d like to settle down someplace, but it’s been a rough few years. I haven’t quite found the place that feels like home yet.”

Secretly, as you listen to him explain the various European cities in which he’s lived, you wish that he’ll come to feel at home here. Brdonik isn’t large enough to be on any maps, but it’s been your home for almost a decade now, and you can’t imagine a better place. The whole community bands together, and people look out for each other. There’s enough tourism from backpackers and small cruises that you’re not totally isolated, but you’re still far enough removed that your daily life isn’t saturated with commercialism and the big city nonsense you often hear about through your guests. You’d experienced it enough before coming to Croatia, and you don’t ever plan on going back to the life you’d had before you moved.

“To answer your question,”—Grant’s gentle continuation pulls you from your thoughts—“I saw a flier posted in the cafe down the street. I stopped there for lunch.”

“What did you order?” you ask. You prop an elbow up on the counter and level him with your gaze.

“Is that important?

“If you want this job it is. You can tell a lot about a person based on what they order at a restaurant.”

He smiles a little. “I got the turkey sandwich.”

You consider his choice for a moment before giving him a nod. “Simple, but respectable. A clear tourist choice, but I like it.”

“You can’t go wrong with a turkey sandwich,” he adds.

“It’s a classic!” You smile back at him and then come around the counter into the main part of the lobby. You grab your clipboard from its hook on the wall.

“Let me give you a tour,” you tell him. “I’ll point out some of the things that need fixing, and then you can tell me if you still think you’re a good fit.”

Grant agrees, and he walks beside you as you lead him through the hostel. You show him the currently unoccupied rooms, as well as the common areas, and you give him plenty of time to inspect the stalled projects and major fixes that he’d been in charge of. While he looks around, you watch him carefully. There’s something familiar about him, something you can’t quite put your finger on, but he doesn’t set off any alarm bells in your head like some of the previous candidates had. He’s respectful of the property and the few lingering guests you come across, and Grant is polite enough to open doors for you as you approach them. He speaks softly and clearly, and his sense of humor is well-timed. Somehow, despite his hulking frame and obvious strength, you feel safe around him.

Eventually, you lead him to your office. Grant takes the seat in front of your desk and you close the door behind him, then sit behind your desk and pull a pad of paper from the drawer. He’s almost too big for the chair you normally reserve for college-age backpackers looking for a few days of housekeeping work. He’s relaxed, though, and he rests both arms on the thin wooden armrests as you get out what you need. You sneak a glance at him as you sit upright again. His eyes move slowly and carefully over the framed photos and documents on the wall, taking in each one of them individually before he moves onto the next—your college diploma from NYU, a photo of you with your family the last time they came to visit, a certificate of operation from the local government. His backpack is leaning up against the front leg of the chair and his left leg, and you briefly wonder how he’s afforded to travel so much. The bag looks brand new, and high-tech, too. Is he a tech mogul of some kind? A grown-up trust fund kid? Did he steal it, or is he just really good with money?

“You’ll have to excuse me, I don’t have any questions prepared for you,” you tell him as you reach for a pen.

He nods and looks back at you. “You weren’t expecting me to walk in today, I understand.”

“Either way, I have to say that so far, I’m very impressed with you.” You glance up again and give him a polite smile, then look back down as you write his name and the date at the top of the page. “What did you say your last name was again?”

“Carter,” he says.

Nodding, you add that at the top and make your first bullet point.

“Grant Carter. Are you named after someone? That seems a pretty traditional name for a guy your age.” You immediately cringe at the question. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate. You don’t have to answer that.”

Chuckling, Grant shakes his head. “No, it’s alright. My mother was a big fan of Ulysses S. Grant.”

“The 18th president?” you ask, grinning wide.

He nods and lets out another small laugh. “That’s the one.”

“He’s not normally up there on peoples’ lists of favorite presidents.”

“She had her reasons, I guess,” Grant shrugs.

You hum a little with a smile and look back down at your almost empty legal pad. You have a million questions that you want to ask, and more that you know you should, but you allow yourself to think for a moment before you look up again. Whatever you ask has to be the right mix of the two.

“You’ve lived in a lot of really impressive places,” you begin, and Grant nods in confirmation. “Why come here? There are plenty of larger cities with more job openings. Better paying job openings,” you add.

“You sell yourself short,” Grant easily replies. He sits forward a little, his elbows sliding closer to the ends of the armrests. “Your town is beautiful. It’s comfortable, and a bit secluded. I’m looking for something quieter.”

“A lot of people are, but we’re not often what they want in the long run. How long are you planning on staying?”

Grant stares at you for a long moment before he replies, “Until I’m needed elsewhere.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s a bit cryptic, so I hope you don’t mind if I ask for a clearer answer.”

“I plan on staying indefinitely, but if it changes, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

Not quite satisfied with his answer, you still scribble down the response and make a second point on the next line down.

“Do you have handyman experience?”

Grant shakes his head. “But I’m a quick learner and I’m stronger than I look. Whatever I don’t already know how to do, I’ll pick it up quickly if I can get the information from someone or somewhere.”

I highly doubt you’re stronger than you look, you think, forcing yourself to look down at the paper and write, rather than at him. You already look pretty damn strong.

“Do you have a previous employer I can contact? Or references?”

“I can have that information to you by the end of the day.”

You nod and keep writing, and you don’t look up as you say, “We don’t typically provide housing for employees, as we’re a small enough village that commute isn’t an issue, but given that you’re new to town, I’m going to assume that you don’t have a place to stay yet.”

“No ma’am, I don’t.”

“I can get you set up in a room here, if that’s alright with you. I won’t expect you to work outside of normal business hours, except in an emergency, but that’s the same even if you lived off-property,” you tell him, looking up. You don’t lift your pen, and it’s a little satisfying to see that Grant looks mildly surprised. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who could be surprised by anything.

“You’re hiring me?” he asks.

“Should I not?”

He quickly recovers and shakes his head, giving you a small smile. “I was just surprised that you’re not waiting until after you’ve seen my references.”

“Are you a horrible person?”

“I don’t think so, no.

“Are you a terrible employee?” you ask, putting your pen down on the desk.

“I’m loyal to a fault.”

“Should I be concerned about criminal activity?”

Grant laughs. “I’m a model citizen, though I did steal a piece of cake when I was a kid.”

“I’ll be sure to inform the local authorities,” you tease, grinning. You slide the notepad onto your desk and stand, holding out your hand for him to shake. Grant obliges. “You’re hired, Mr. Carter. If you’re ready, I’ll show you to your room so you can get settled in before your first day tomorrow.”

“I’d like that, thank you,” he replies.

“I won’t take the room out of your salary unless it prevents us from taking guests, but I don’t see that becoming an issue, except maybe in mid-July,” you tell him as you move around the desk to the door. “The handyman position pays 800 euros a month. You’ll be paid bi-weekly in check or cash, whichever your preference. We don’t have direct deposit here. If you need an account in town, there’s a bank down the road.”

“Cash is fine,” he says. He picks up his bag and swings it over his shoulder before following you back out into the hallway, then out to the lobby. You make a pit stop at the front desk to grab a key before heading up the main staircase.

The private, single person rooms on the third floor are a little older, and you briefly worry as you climb the stairs if the beds will be able to hold Grant’s weight. You don’t use them as often now that you’ve finished transforming the old hotel into a hostel. There’s a thin coating of dust on the handrail and you make a mental note to give this floor a thorough cleaning tomorrow while he’s occupied, that way you won’t be intruding.

You lead Grant to the end of the hall, where the rooms are slightly larger and the windows overlook the ocean. While the view is great, most of your summer guests only fill the dorm-style rooms, so you’re fairly certain you won’t be missing out on any profit by giving him this room.

“Here we are,” you say, and you open the door before stepping aside so he can enter first.

Grant ducks through the doorway and flips the light switch, then looks around in silence. You wait in the hallway, holding your breath as he makes his inspection.

“This is nice,” he finally says, looking back at you. He drops his bag at the foot of the bed. “You’re sure it’s alright if I stay here?”

You wave one hand dismissively. “It’s fine.”

Your phone chimes in your back pocket and you pull it out, quickly reading the notification. It’s only mildly urgent, but you can feel Grant trying to look occupied as he waits for you to leave, so you look up and gesture back towards the stairs with your phone.

“I’ve gotta take care of something, but you’re in luck. Every Thursday night we host a group dinner for the guests. The food is all cooked by a chef from a local restaurant in an attempt to promote the local cuisine, so you’re welcome to join us, or I can recommend some other restaurants in the area, if you want to explore a little bit more. We eat at seven.”

Nodding, Grant smiles and crosses the room to pull the key from where you’d left it in the lock. “I’ll see you at seven. It was nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“You too, Grant. Welcome aboard!” You smile once more, then turn and head back down the hall. His door closes as you reach the top of the stairs, and suddenly, you can’t wait for dinnertime.

You occupy yourself for the majority of the day by compiling a list of projects for Grant, as well as contacting the references he sends you using the email address on the hostel’s website. He gets glowing reviews from each and every person on the list, though they all seem a little confused when you first ask about him.

Grant comes down to the first floor at five minutes to seven, and you’re just greeting the first small group of guests to arrive back from their excursions when he steps down from the bottom step. You glance over and give him a quick, acknowledging smile before turning back to the guests.

“Dobor dan! How was your time at the beach?” you ask. They reply politely in a mix of English and their own native language. You vaguely recognize it as French. You’re about to tell them in English about the dinner schedule, hoping that they’ll understand at least partially, but Grant begins talking in rapid-fire French before you even open your mouth.

It takes everything in you to keep your jaw from dropping straight through the floor. None of Grant’s references had mentioned he was bilingual, and neither did he. It feels like it should’ve been obvious, however, given that every single person he’d talked to had mentioned his incredible intelligence and ability to pick up skills quicker than anybody they knew.

Still, you watch in stunned silence from behind the front desk and Grant chatters with the guests. He leads them from the lobby and into the adjoining sitting area, where you hear them sit down and continue to talk. Someone laughs, and then Grant does, too. It’s a deep, mellow baritone, and you catch yourself grinning before you manage to stifle it.

When the next group of guests walk in, you guide them into the sitting room with the others. Grant catches your eye as you turn the corner, and when he smiles, you swear that your heart stutters in your chest.

He’s your employee, you chide yourself, and you turn your back on the group on the premise of prepping a plate of cookies for the coffee table.

“Dinner should be ready soon,” you say as you set the plate in the center of the group. Grant translates for you, first in French, and then in a language that sounds almost Spanish, but you know enough of that to know that it’s something different. All the guests nod in agreement.

You settle against one of the heavy wood bookshelves and watch quietly as Grant chats with the guests, switching fluidly between languages whenever he turns to a new person. It’s amazing, so you simply stay silent as you listen to the flurry of foreign words in the sitting room. You’ve never heard the pre-dinner conversation so lively. It brings a new warmth to the hostel, and you can’t help but smile as you watch the guests come alive, even though they’re exhausted.

“Dinner is ready!” Ana calls. She pokes her head in the door, and she smiles wide when she sees the guests talking excitedly. Every seat is taken. When she turns to look at you, you only grin.

“What’s going on?” she asks, stepping closer so she can lower her voice. “Who is that?”

You lean in, whispering, “His name is Grant. He’s the new handyman, and apparently, he speaks multiple languages.”

“Apparently?”

“I didn’t know when I hired him! This,” you gesture with one hand towards the circle of guests, who have started to rise now that Grant has passed along the message about dinner, “was a surprise to me, too. He just started talking to them on his own. I didn’t ask him to do anything.”

Ana raises her eyebrows, giving you a meaningful look. Before you can scold her for trying to meddle in your love life, she slips away and Grant appears at your side.

“Who is that?” he asks.

Goosebumps erupt on your arms at the sound of his deep voice so close to your ear. He’s leaned down so you can hear him clearly, and though he’s not quite in your space, he’s still close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him. It should feel stifling in the early summer heat, but it’s comforting, and you turn towards him with a bright smile.

“Ana. She’s the manager when I’m not here. I’ll introduce you later. How come you never told me you spoke all those languages?” you ask.

Grant just smiles back at you. “You never asked.”

“I’ll make sure to add that to my list of questions for the next time I have to hire someone.” You gesture at the line of guests filtering through the doorway to the hostel’s dining room. “We should eat. Most of the guests have spent all day hiking or at the beach, and they’ll be hungry. Our local chefs are all amazing, so the food always goes quickly.”

“What’s on the menu?” Grant asks. He starts to walk and you fall into step beside him, noting how he angles himself sideways and stoops through the doorway so that you’re not squashed into the doorframe. It’s a miracle he doesn’t hit his head on any of the lowered ceilings or hanging decor in the building.

I’ll have to warn him about the lights in the rooms on the second floor, you note.

“Punjene paprike. Stuffed peppers,” you translate. You pause and watch as the guests choose their seats, silently making sure there are enough chairs. When it’s clear you’ve done the math correctly, you look over at Grant. “How many languages do you speak?”

He shrugs and surveys the long table filled with food. People are already piling their plates high and chattering with their friends and family, and the room is filled with amicable noise. The sun coming in from the windows is golden. The windows face south, which is one of the many reasons why you’d first purchased the building. It needs a lot of work, and it always has, but the view of the ocean from the dining room windows, along with the way the sun illuminates the whole room, helps make all the work worth it.

“This place is beautiful,” says Grant, quietly. “You’ve done well.”

You look over at him, surprised at the praise. It warms you from the inside out, and you smile when he meets your eyes. “Thank you. I’ve worked hard.”

He nods, and after a moment, he gestures towards the table. There are two empty seats beside each other, near the far end of the room. Ana has taken the seat across from them and she’s already begun to eat.

You follow Grant across the dining room, and you try not to act surprised when he pulls out the chair and helps you sit before taking the spot beside yours. Ana catches your eye as you reach for a dish, but you look away. You can’t risk having her embarrass you in front of the guests.

Or Grant, the cheeky little voice in your brain adds, but you quickly push the thought to the far reaches of your brain. Showing your hand—and your burgeoning feelings for Grant—right now is something you need even less.

“So, you’re from New York?” he asks.

You look up from where you’re pulling a napkin into your lap. “What?”

“Your degree. It’s from NYU, so I’m assuming that you’re from the States.”

Nodding, you allow him to serve one of the peppers onto your plate, and you heap an extra serving of rice onto the side of your plate before handing him the bowl. You don’t want to assume he likes anything, especially since he ordered one of the most American things on the menu at the cafe.

“I am. I grew up in Manhattan, and I decided to stay there for college. Once I got my degree in hospitality, I decided it was time I see more of the world,” you tell him.

“Why Croatia?” Grant asks.

You shrug and pick up your fork. “Honestly? I don’t know why. I didn’t even mean to come here. I ended up on the wrong train and decided to stick it out. I figured it would be a fun experience either way, but I fell in love with it here. On my second day here, I saw that this building was up for sale and I had just enough money in my savings to buy it. It was a big risk, but I think that it was worth it.”

He looks around the room, listening to the conversations for a few moments before he smiles. “I think so, too.”

“Where are you from?” you ask. “You’re clearly American.”

Grant laughs at that, nodding. “I grew up in Brooklyn. When I was old enough, I served in the army for a few years, and since then I’ve just been… traveling.”

The army thing makes sense, and you file that information away for later. The two of you start to eat, exchanging a few more words throughout the meal. Grant offers to help Ana with the dishes. She’s giddy at the proposal, so you let them head into the kitchen as you help guests arrange their plans for the next day. You find yourself straining to listen for the sound of his voice during the quiet moments, however, but by the time the dishes are finished, Grant tells you that he’s exhausted and he wants to get a good night’s rest before his first day on the job. You wish him goodnight from the front desk, then wait for Ana to appear and barrage you with a million questions about the new handyman.

You learn quickly that there’s even more to Grant than meets the eye. He’d been telling the truth in his interview—he’s deceptively strong, and he really does learn quicker than anyone you’ve ever met. His Croatian improves leaps and bounds in the first few months at the hostel. By the end of the summer, he’s practically fluent, even if he does bumble through some of the more complicated phrases with a faint blush on his cheeks.

The longstanding projects for the hostel are all completed by the end of August, leaving you scrambling to keep Grant busy. When you can’t find anything to do, however, he busies himself by exploring the far reaches of the island, speaking with the guests in a myriad of languages, and keeping you company in the lobby or in your office. His presence, which had once seemed much too large for the old brick building, has settled. He seems at home in the armchair you buy for the corner of your office, and he’s become a fixture in the doorway of the lobby, where he likes to stand and watch traffic pass by.

It’s on one of the hottest days of the year that you first get a glimpse behind Grant’s ever-friendly facade. You’re behind the desk, going through the reservations for the upcoming week, when there’s a shout from outside. The front door to the hostel is propped open in an attempt to let in a breeze, and Grant has taken up residence in his normal spot. You’ve only just processed the shout when there’s an explosion. The floor beneath you shakes and shudders, and you grip the edge of the desk in an attempt to keep upright.

Grant whirls around and fixes his eyes on you. He’s scanning you, up and down, searching for any sign of injury.

“Are you okay?” he asks. You nod, swallowing thickly, and peer over his shoulder. There’s no sign of what’s happened outside, but you can hear screaming and shouting. There’s a gunshot and you flinch.

“Stay here, and stay hidden,” says Grant, and you know in an instant that it’s an order. “Stay quiet and don’t let anyone in. Okay?”

Nodding again, you drop to a crouch, then curl up on the floor with your back against the desk. You clutch your phone in one hand and listen as Grant closes, then locks the door. When he doesn’t appear behind the desk, you crawl over to the side and look out into the small lobby. He’s gone.

Your arms shake beneath you and you have to fall back against the desk for support before you fall flat on your face. Squeezing your eyes shut, you listen to the commotion outside. There are no more explosions, but you hear more screams and shouts, followed by a crash and gunshots. Your heart pounds in your chest as the noise gets closer and closer. You know that Grant was in the army, so he must have military training, but the thought of him outside—the thought of him in danger—makes you want to puke.

There’s a thud against the front door and you flinch. Your body tenses and you curl up in the fetal position, trying to maintain your breathing. It doesn’t work, however, and when there’s another bang, you scream.

“Molim! Molim, let me in!”

You look around the edge of the desk again. It’s a woman on the other side, and the desperation in her voice propels you to your feet and into the lobby without a second thought. You twist the lock and yank open the door.

A slim woman dressed entirely in black grins at you. Her eyes are a shocking shade of electric blue and her teeth are bright white—a stark contrast against the mask that hides the rest of her features.

“Sorry, dragi,” she says, and you gasp when she reveals the gun in her left hand. With the other, she reaches out and grabs you. “You’re coming with me.”

“No!” You fight against the woman’s grip, and when you lift your eyes to search for help from someone else, you can’t believe what you’re seeing.

Grant is lifting a car off someone. He lifts the car and tosses it aside with a heave and a grunt, and then he’s fighting someone hand-to-hand. The man in black is clearly trained because he gets in a few hits, but Grant never stays down for long. He’s slowly forcing the man back down the street, towards the beach, instead of towards the line of shops that’s on the other side of the hostel.

There’s a blast as another explosive goes off, this time in a restaurant diagonal from your front door. Stone and rubble flies in every direction. The street is empty of people, thankfully, except for the people Grant is fighting. Somewhere down the street, a car alarm is going off, and the light from the harsh midday sun is almost blinding. Your ears are ringing from the blast and the alarm. You think you scream at some point, but you’re not sure.

The man that Grant has been fighting has been thrown back by the blast, but Grant is still standing, as if he’s anchored onto the pavement. There’s a metal car door in his hand. He’s gripping onto a piece of the leather interior, and the red painted finish on the outside has been battered by the flying debris. His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath.

The woman drags you out of the hostel and onto the street. She wraps her arm around your shoulders and places the gun against the side of your head. You stop struggling then, and your breath catches in your throat as your heart begins to pound even harder. Your vision is going blurry along the edges, but not enough to miss the way Grant’s jaw clenches when he catches sight of you.

“Captain Rogers!” the woman shouts.

He throws a second man off of him and turns fully towards you and the woman. “Let her go!”

In your ear, the woman chuckles. It’s low and dark, and full of malice, and you shiver. You close your eyes and pray that it’s all just a bad dream.

“Not until you come with us,” the woman replies.

“Leave her and the others out of this.”

When you open your eyes, Grant is looking past you at the woman. The light reflects in his deep blue eyes, and it’s then that you realize what he’s been hiding from you.

How did I miss it before?

“Steve Rogers,” you choke.

He looks at you again. “Y/N…”

“You’re Steve Rogers.”

There’s a pause as he watches you with clear regret, and then the woman laughs, shocking you out of your revelation.

“How precious!” she exclaims. “Your little boss had no clue who you were?”

“Let. Her. Go.” Steve takes a step forward and the woman’s grip on you tightens. You can’t stop the whimper that escapes you when she pushes the gun harder against your head, making you crane your neck to one side.

Two new men in black come up behind Steve. He turns his head slightly, listening to their approach, but he doesn’t move. You can tell that he’s calculating what to do next.

There’s a moment of clarity as you watch them launch themselves at him. Steve fights like he was born for it—and maybe he was, you rationalize—and as he easily overcomes them both, you have a revelation that’s nothing short of a rock at the pit of your stomach.

Steve has to get out of this alive. So many people count on him, and they always have. Though you know that there are a lot of people all over the world who consider him a criminal, you also know that there are a lot of people just like you that think Steve deserves a place of honor for all that he’s done and all the sacrifices he’s made.

The safety on the woman’s gun clicks off and Steve freezes. The two men take advantage of that, and they grab his arms, pulling them tightly behind his back and pushing him to his knees. He falls with a grunt. One of the men grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks his head back until he’s looking at you and the woman from his place on the ground. He doesn’t fight back.

“Steve,” you plead. “You have to fight. You can’t let them take you.”

“I’m not leaving you,” he replies. He shifts his gaze to the woman without moving his head. “If I go with you, you’ll let her go?”

“You have my word.”

Heat swells in your eyes and you know that you’re about to cry. “No! Don’t trust her, Steve! You can’t believe her!”

The woman jostles you and you close your eyes on instinct. A tear slips down your cheek.

“Shut up,” she growls.

You swallow thickly. At your sides, your hands and fingers have gone numb, and your legs are barely holding you upright.

“Alright,” Steve agrees. “I’ll go with you.”

A sob bursts through and the woman releases you. She practically throws you to the ground, and you have just enough time to get your arms out in front of you before you hit the road. Pain shoots up both limbs and the pavement digs into your forearms. From where you lay, you watch the men pull Steve to his feet. He moves with them and doesn’t fight back as they drag him to a black cargo van on the perimeter of the blast zone.

“Steve!” you scream. Your voice breaks and your throat feels raw as you push yourself up and stumble in their direction. The movement sends pins and needles into your hands and feet, but you do it anyway. Your limbs feel completely out of your control as you attempt to go after them.

Steve looks back at you. He’s too far now for you to make out his expression, but you can see that he’s trying to tell you something. The man on his right shoves his shoulder and he’s forced into the van.

“Let him go! Steve!” You start to sprint, running after the van as the back door slides shut and the woman, who climbed into the driver’s seat while you were getting to your feet, begins to navigate it through the rubble from the explosions. The tinted windows keep you from seeing Steve inside and your mind immediately goes to the worst.

“Someone help me! Stop that van!”

You run until you physically can’t. The van is long gone, and when you collapse onto the street, a crowd gathers around you. People are murmuring and asking you questions. There are too many hands, too many faces, even if many of them are familiar. Your vision swims as you’re rolled onto your back. The summer sun beats down on you harder, and you try to focus, but all you can manage is a mumble of Steve’s name before you lose consciousness on the pavement.

When you wake, the soft beeping noise is enough to tell you that you’re in a hospital. You open your eyes, expecting to be greeted by white walls and bedding, and maybe a wall of cabinets with a sink. Instead, there’s a slanted wall of glass windows, each separated by a pillar of concrete. Thin, almost invisible computer screens with golden text are scattered around your room, each displaying charts, figures, and data in a language you can’t read. Some are embedded into the walls on either side of the bed, while others float above white counters that look more like control panels for a spaceship. There are scans of someone’s body and brain—your brain, you realize after a long moment—that spin in circles on the floating screens.

A hiss makes you flinch, and you quickly look away from the brain scan to where a young, dark-skinned girl is walking in through a set of sliding glass doors you hadn’t seen before. Her white, high-necked sheath dress looks nothing like hospital attire, especially since it’s sleeveless and only has mesh to cover her shoulders and a few inches below her knees, but she’s holding a tablet and looks so serious that you wonder if maybe she’s not a regular doctor. After all, this doesn’t seem like a normal hospital. Where are you? Did the men in black come back to get you, too?

“Y/N, it’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling?” she asks.

Her accent is jarring, and you blink. When you go to speak, you have to lick your lips a few times. They’re dry, and your mouth feels so much like sandpaper that for a moment you don’t think you’ll actually be able to say anything at all.

“Where am I?” you finally ask in return. “Who are you?”

She smiles briefly and checks something on her tablet, then glances over at one of the floating screens off to the side. Seemingly satisfied, she locks the device and sets it aside.

“My name is Shuri. You’re in Wakanda. You will be safe here.”

You frown. “Wakanda?” None of the hospitals even remotely close to the hostel hold that name, not even in passing, but it sounds familiar.

“Yes. We’re friends of Captain Rogers. When we heard about his capture, and how you were involved, we brought you here.”

Tears burn hot in your eyes as the memories from the street outside the hostel come flooding back all at once. How long have you been in the hospital? Who’s looking for Steve?

“We have located him already,” she continues, and you inhale sharply, shifting in the bed as you reach up to wipe your face. “And the Dora Milaje has been sent to retrieve him.”

“The what?” you ask. Your voice shakes and you swallow hard in an attempt to steady yourself.

Shuri smiles again. “The Dora Milaje. They are our special forces here in Wakanda. Let me ask again, how are you feeling?”

You move in the bed a little bit more, testing your limbs for stiffness or pain. Surprisingly, there’s very little. “I’m… I’m okay, I think. Confused, mostly. Thirsty.” Your stomach growls, so you quickly add, “Hungry.”

She laughs and nods, then picks up her tablet. Shuri taps a few times before glancing down at something through the slanted windows.

“Someone will bring you food shortly. I’ll also have someone come change the bandages on your hands and wrists. Your injuries are healing nicely. You should still rest a while longer, but I will make sure you’re notified when Captain Rogers has been safely returned.”

Nodding, you sit back against the pillows, but you quickly sit up again with a gasp. “The hostel! Ana!”

“We’ve sent someone to assist Miss Mitrovich in your absence,” Shuri soothes. She steps closer to the bed and you lie back as she approaches. “There were very few repairs that needed to be done to your building, but they are taken care of, and all your guests are safe. I have already dispatched a team of Wakandan specialists to help with the rebuild of Brdonik. We are also installing a security system in your building.”

You sigh in relief and close your eyes, swallowing against the dryness again. You lay in silence, listening to Shuri as she moves around the room and mutters to herself. When you finally open your eyes again, it’s because she’s greeting someone as the sliding glass doors hiss open for a second time.

“Grant,” you murmur, and he gives you a weak smile from just inside the doorway. You correct yourself, shaking your head. “Steve.”

“Grant is my middle name,” he quietly explains. “And Carter…”

“Agent Carter,” you finish. “I see the connection now.”

While waiting for your food, you’ve slowly been piecing together the different parts of Steve’s life that you knew, trying to get the full picture. You’ve known him personally as Grant, the quiet man from Brooklyn that is good with his hands, always knows exactly what to say when you’re in a bad mood, and is a hit with every guest that crosses your threshold. On the other hand, you also know him as Steve, the All-American super-soldier that’s plastered across every history textbook you’ve ever been given. He’s also the super-soldier that you’ve watched on the news, listening to reporter after reporter praise him like he’s a god, then publicly curse and shame him on their next breath.

Shuri quietly excuses herself. You stare at Steve as she leaves through the sliding doors behind him. There’s a cut above his right eyebrow, and blood caked in his beard, right below a nasty split in his lower lip. He’s standing lopsided, like he’s keeping the weight off his right foot, and he looks like he could use a shower and a long nap.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

He nods again. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For dragging you into this,” Steve answers. He sighs. “For getting you hurt. For putting you in danger.”

You shake your head and sit up a little more in the bed, allowing the pillows to prop you upright. “None of this is your fault.”

“It is, and—”

“And nothing,” you interrupt. You give him a stern look and he presses his lips together with a wince. “You didn’t know that there was any danger. If you had, wouldn’t you have left?”

After a second, Steve nods, and you continue,

“And if you’d been able to stop it from happening, you would’ve, right?”

Another nod and you smooth the surprisingly soft hospital blanket over your legs.

“Then it’s not really your fault, Grant. Steve,” you correct again, more firmly this time. You’re still coming to terms with the fact that he’s not 100% who he said he was.

“But you still got hurt. I still put you in danger just by being there. I shouldn’t have stayed as long as I did. I got too comfortable, and too close, and I was careless.”

You purse your lips and watch him for several moments. Steve stays still under your inspection, waiting for you to say something.

Finally, you tell him, “I don’t regret what happened, and if I had the chance to go back in time and change things, I wouldn’t. I’m not in mortal danger, and you’re safe again. The hostel is being taken care of. None of the guests got hurt. Tourism might be down for a couple months but…” You shrug. “It’s the end of the busiest season anyway, and I have enough savings that I’m not going to worry.”

Steve shakes his head at you, then turns to look at the screens. He doesn’t seem to be actually reading them, but he puts his hands on his hips as he stares at a spinning scan of your hand and wrist.

“Do you regret it?” you ask.

He turns back. He’s silent for a few seconds as he watches you fidget with the hem of the blanket in your lap. “No,” Steve finally replies. “I don’t.”

“Me neither.”

When he doesn’t move, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed. You’re not dressed in a normal hospital gown—someone has put you in leggings and a tunic of some kind—but you still shiver when your bare feet touch the floor.

“Y/N—” Steve limps towards you, holding both hands out to steady you if you lose your balance. You don’t, and he stops a few feet away.

“I don’t regret any of it, Steve,” you say. You start to close the distance between the two of you even more. “Not a single minute.”

“Volim te,” Steve murmurs.

You freeze, now within arm’s reach. “What?”

“Volim te.”

Your brain is working a mile a minute to catch up with what he’s said. Steve shifts in place, wincing as he transfers the weight to his injured leg.

“You should get that checked out,” you quietly tell him, glancing down at his leg.

He stares at you, as if he was expecting a different response. You know he was, but you’re suddenly so overwhelmed by everything that it’s the first thing out of your mouth.

“I—” You close your eyes and shake your head, letting out a small self-conscious chuckle. “I’m sorry. I love you too, Steve. I do. I love you. I don’t— I don’t know why I said that. I guess I’m just worried—”

He cuts you off by stepping into your space and cupping your face with one hand. His fingers thread up into your hair and he tilts your head back so he can press his lips to yours. Your arms fall limp at your sides for a second, but then your brain catches up. You close your eyes and reach up to put one hand on the back of his neck. The other slides around his waist, pulling him closer as he kisses you.

Steve’s body is warm and though he winces with pain, then pulls away slightly to touch his fingers to his busted lip, neither one of you actually moves away from the other. You stay close enough to feel the heat from his breath on your skin.

“You need to eat,” he murmurs.

“And you need a doctor,” you reply.

He smiles a little, more just pressing his lips together than anything, and kisses your forehead. You close your eyes again when he lingers.

“Don’t go,” he says as you step away.

You frown and crowd close again, and you place both hands on his chest. “Steve?”

“No. I mean, you should go now, but…” He struggles for a second, trying to find the words he wants to say, and you wait patiently. “What I meant was: Don’t go back to Croatia. Stay with me.”

“What about the hostel? What about Ana and the guests?”

“I’ve heard you say a thousand times that she could probably run the place on her own. Plus, it’s the end of the busiest season, and after everything that’s happened, tourism will probably be low. You said it yourself.”

Steve reaches up to pull your hands off of him, but he holds them and rubs little circles over your knuckles with his thumbs. He watches you carefully, giving you his full attention. His eyes are deep and blue, and the crinkle between his eyebrows has disappeared completely now that he’s sure you’re okay.

“So, what? I’d stay here in Wakanda? What would I do?” you ask, frowning. “They don’t really have tourists here, do they? It’s not like they need a hostel.”

“No, but I need a partner.”

“Don’t you already have partners, Steve? What about the Falcon? Or Black Widow? Or even your friend that you told me about—James? Isn’t he a superhero, too?”

Shaking his head, he answers, “That’s not the kind of partner I need, Y/N. I don’t need a partner to fight with. I need a partner that I can live with. Someone to make a home with.”

You stare at him for a second, allowing your brain to process what he’s just said, and then you give him a slow, sly smile. Inside, you’re giddy and jumping up and down, but all you do is pull your hands in a little more so he has to step closer to you.

“Steven Grant Rogers, are you asking me to move in with you?”

“I guess I am.” His ears are starting to turn a bright shade of pink, and it’s beginning to creep along his cheekbones as well, just above his beard.

Steve’s still holding your hands captive, so you simply raise an eyebrow. “Do you have a place to live here in Wakanda? Or are we going to be staying here in my hospital room until you find one?”

He shrugs and grins back at you. “King T’Challa gave me an apartment.”

“The king gave you an apartment?” You pull your hands away and step back. You can’t hide your disbelief, though deep down, you figure it’s very likely that the king tried to give Steve more. He’s a hero, even if most of the world doesn’t believe it.

“The princess was just in here going over your medical information, and you’re shocked that he gave me an apartment?” Steve asks, a smirk on his face.

You gape at him even more. “You’re kidding. Steve, that was not—”

“Princess Shuri. She’s made most of the technology around here, and she oversees the recovery of important patients. Like you,” he adds.

“If I’d known—”

He leans in and kisses your forehead again. “You don’t need to bow or anything. They don’t do that here, though I’m sure she’d appreciate a thank you the next time you see her. Maybe compliment one of her inventions. T’Challa says she likes that.”

“The next time?” you hiss. “Steve—”

This time, he laughs at you. It’s a full-bodied laugh, unlike the sparse chuckles you’ve gotten out of him since his return, and you relax. You smile, too, a real smile that makes your cheeks ache as you press your burning face against his chest. Steve wraps his arms around you. His body shakes as he laughs, but he quickly settles down and kisses the top of your head.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you tell him, not letting go. In fact, you hug him tighter around the waist with both arms.

“Me too. Come on, ljubavi. Let’s go home.”

Dobro jutro = Good morning

Kako vam mogu pomoći? = How can I help you?

Govorite li engleski? = Do you speak English?

Dobor dan = Good afternoon

Molim = Please

Dragi = Darling

Volim te = I love you

Ljubavi = Love/my love

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging my work so that others can enjoy it too.

I do not consent to have my work posted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere other than my personal tumblr, Patreon, or ao3 accounts, it has been reposted without my permission.

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Forever: @aya-fay

Steve Rogers: @lipstickandvibranium @delicatecapnerd

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soulgazingwithbucky · 2 years

Text

Details (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Maybe you and Bucky just weren't meant to be. Alpine (dis)respectfully disagrees.

Based on a prompt from this generator: "Y/N and Bucky break up, but they have a pet and neither of them want to give it up. Then they spend a few days each with the pet separately. But it kinda helps them get together again."

Warnings: mentions of food & alcohol

Word count: 3.1k

A/N: Writing this fic taught me that the Venn diagram of romantic flowers and things toxic to cats is a circle. I wrote this listening to Trust by Brent Faiyaz radio on Spotify, so I have no choice but to share it for any other hip hop/R&B fans <3 If you find yourself enjoying this, feel free to check out my other works here <3

You were the sun up above, he was fallen snow.

You were the beauty of flower petals, he was the strength of tree roots.

You were a song belted out loud, he was comfortable silence.

It took you a while to fall in love with Bucky Barnes. But,

as they say,

good things come to those who wait.

You were big picture, he was details. You were looking too broadly; he slipped between the cracks. You crept into every corner of his brain until it was an overfilled balloon. Oh, how he had pined until you finally saw him as he saw you. It was torture, those few months before you took his hands in yours, leaning in for that first kiss that ignited every nerve in his body.

The more time you spent with him, the more certain you felt about his psychic abilities. He knew you so well, like he was reading your thoughts. Or seeing the future. Was it an effect of the serum? But he indulged you in his secret: he just paid a painful amount of attention.

When you scratched your throat, he would get you a glass of water. Always three ice cubes.

When you shifted in your seat, he would take your leg and message it, pressing firm circles into the back of your calves.

When your eyebrows scrunched and made that little crease in between, he would kiss it. When he pulled away, it was gone.

He was details.

You mused that he should reserve that expertise for saving the world. He left a flutter of kisses on your knuckles, telling each finger that he would have no better use of his skills than to keep you happy.

You were grander than life. He was sure that if you had been the one alive for a century, you would have lived each year to its fullest. He looked up to you, his idol, his inspiration.

The sound of tape unraveling broke you out of your stupor.

Loud, screeching, sudden.

A fitting call back to reality.

Bending at the knee, Bucky gingerly placed the box in front of you. You knew he could’ve lifted and dropped it with just his pinky finger; it would’ve been the equivalent of you dropping a sheet of paper.

But he was always so considerate of you. Your feelings.

Your reactions.

You.

“I think that’s the last one,” he told you. A lie. He knew it was the last one.

“Thank you,” you said, staring at the box, rotating it to find the cutout handles.

CLOTHES, he had scribbled on every side in thick sharpie, the writing comically large. He was thinking of you, in your new home, surrounded by replicas of the same brown cardboard box. He wanted to make it as easy as possible for you.

It, the situation he had put you both in.

You were larger than life. But he had made you feel smaller than an atom. Like a child's once overused coat that now collected dust in the back of a dark closet.

Your name, so tender on his gruff tongue, drew you out of your thoughts.

You kept your face stony. You didn’t dare think what it had betrayed when you dove into the recesses of your mind.

“Sorry,” you spoke.

“Don’t be,” he murmured. Stay, he thought.

You stood, rummaging in your pocket. Well, his pocket. His sweatpants. You acted like you forgot they were his; he acted like he forgot, too. At least some part of him would still be with you.

A silver key emerged in your outstretched hand. His finger twitched. You noticed that.

He taught you to.

Then he reached out, closing the space between the two of you. His fingers curled over yours, ridding the key from sight.

“Keep it,” he said.

“What?” you said.

“Shared custody,” was his attempt to lighten the mood. As if on cue, Alpine rounded the corner.

you summoned, dad? she seemed to say, grazing the doorway as she made her way over.

Be strong, you had demanded earlier, pointing at yourself accusingly in the rearview mirror. Do not give in. Don’t let him see you falter.

But this beautiful, aggravating, wonderful cat was your whole world (surpassing Bucky, you made sure to tell him regularly), and you felt the tears well up. You thought you had finally run out. What an awful time to find you were wrong.

“Are you sure?”

“Never been more sure,” he said firmly. “I-”

The syllable lingered in the air. He had to be strong, for you. It was the least he could do. He brought this on himself, and he had to see it through. He had no idea how to balance the whole hero thing and being in love thing. He had never done it before. What an awful way to find out he did everything wrong.

He would never forget the day the straw broke the camel’s back. He had told you he needed to reschedule your Saturday date, not knowing the day you had planned out. But Wakanda had requested his and Sam’s presence at a UN meeting; you both knew they seldom called in favors from him. Your lip quivered in failed restraint until you abruptly stood up, nearly toppling over the takeout containers on your lap. Everything poured out of you in that moment, loud and endless and angry. Bucky had shut down, staring straight ahead with hardened eyes until you grabbed your things and left.

He was details. He was a quick pick-me-up after a hard day at work. He was a quiet back rub during a feel-good movie. He was a gentle reminder about that one errand you could never seem to remember.

He wasn't big picture. He wasn't a step back to see the writing on the wall. He wasn't the pieces coming together. He wasn't the painful realization of you weren't happy. Not until it was too late, anyway.

“I'll walk you to your car,” he offered. He hesitated before picking up a few boxes. Don’t be stupid, James. Don’t hope for her to change her mind. “Get the door, doll? Sorry. Could you...get the door, please?”

You managed to nod, though you felt as if every bone in your body had merged into one. You opened the door and watched him walk away with your life in a few measly boxes.

“Get the door, doll?” he had said, dragging in several bags of groceries. You harped on him for having a total of three items in his refrigerator, and stopped your movie night to go to the grocery store at 10pm. The clerks were not happy with you.

“Get the door, doll?” he had said, gingerly holding Alpine in her carrier. He did let you hold one thing that time- Alpine’s medication. You both loved her too much to let Bucky carry anything else but her, especially after the scare she had put you both through.

“Get the door, doll?” he had said, muffled over the armfuls of flowers, chocolates, and balloons. Your last Valentine’s together, though neither of you knew it would carry that title. You had laughed at the ridiculous sight of wine bottles tucked into his back pockets.

“I'm sorry,” he said after loading the last of the boxes into your car. He left enough space in the middle seat for you to still use your rearview mirror.

“Don’t,” you whispered. You had had enough of empty apologies. So do something about it. So end it if you wanted to focus on work. So ask Sam to enlist the help of literally any other superhero. Dr. Banner could get it done in, like, five seconds, you once huffed.

“But I am.”

You knew he was. And that made everything worse. The deadly Avenger with the unstoppable arm, capable of defeating Outriders and Flag Smashers. But to you, just your sweet and gentle Bucky. Your sweet, gentle Bucky, who revealed a side to you that no one else got to see. The hero of incredible strength, who held you like you were the lightest of feathers.

You knew that this was as new a world to him as it was to you. You had many a mirror pep talk reminding yourself of this. But you couldn’t help that empty feeling. You became a longing glance at other couples, kissing and hugging and laughing, while you sat in the empty booth. Another last-minute mission for your mighty hero meant another drink for you, liquid in your cup deterring the glistening in your eyes. You became a forced smile, an ongoing habit at work parties and social gatherings, dismissing everyone’s questions about why the hero wasn’t by your side. You became nostalgia, looking at old videos of Bucky on your phone, because you could count on the memories of the man more than the man himself.

“Goodbye, Bucky,” you said, speaking to your car door handle. You hadn’t met each other’s eyes once this entire time. You were kind of glad. You just knew one look would leave you gasping for air, lungs suddenly rid of breath and replaced with a whirlpool of ocean blue, the gray and cobalt turning your intestines into a loop.

You didn’t stay to hear his response. You got in your car, turned on the engine, and reversed out of the parking lot.

Don’t look back

Don’t- Oh, for god’s sake. Of course you looked back.

There he was, still and staring. You knew he wouldn’t leave that spot until your car was completely out of sight. Making sure you were safe.

The next few weeks were filled with lots of ice cream, cheap wine, shitty movie nights, social media algorithms feeding you breakup posts, loud bars with too many people, your friends and family checking in, more tears (fuck, they never run out), takeout delivered to your doorstep, maybe an impulse buy or two…

When you were in distress, Alpine would always sit on your lap until your uneven breaths were in line with her quiet purrs. You would stroke her fur and mutter a thank you while you kissed the top of her head. She would eventually be irked by your flurry of kisses and promptly leave, knowing you were okay.

And so you found yourself turning onto an all-too-familiar street, pulling into an all-too-familiar lot, walking up to an all-too-familiar door.

Whatever trance you were in broke as soon as you felt the jagged edge of the key in your hand. You came to your senses long enough to reluctantly send Bucky a text, asking if you could pay your favorite girl a visit.

His response was almost immediate, shining brightly on your phone screen.

Open invite.

You sighed gratefully, though his response didn't indicate whether he would be in attendance. You pressed your ear to the door, and were greeted with silence. Carefully, you entered your former home.

It smelled like amber, like pine, like leather. Like Bucky. It was overpowering, threatening to shut off all your senses until-

Your heart melted as you spotted Alpine, summoned by the sound of the door. You hadn’t even let yourself into the space, instead falling to your knees and spreading your arms right there by the door. She came to you, stepping on your thighs and pulling herself up to your chest. You embraced her, and your tears fell.

You and Alpine stayed like that for a while, until she wriggled out of your grasp and disappeared.

that's enough, she seemed to say. dust yourself off.

You retrieved a few treats from the cupboard, leaving it for her on her favorite spot on the coffee table.

Your rendezvous continued every week. You seemed to have found the magical window of time where Bucky Barnes was never in his apartment. A weekly debrief with Sam, you guessed by the sticky notes on the fridge. You time, Alpine time.

At first, you stayed in front of the door, not daring to leave the space occupied by the doormat. Alpine would come to you, until she wouldn’t.

She coaxed you to the kitchen first, pawing at where Bucky kept her food. You gave her a little extra in her bowl, knowing that Bucky had already fed her. He was religious about it.

If she could roll her eyes, she would.

i’ll indulge you this time, she seemed to say, nibbling while you sat on the ground and petted her.

Next was the living room. She walked across the cushions, inviting you.

i haven’t got all day, she seemed to say.

You sat next to her, feeling the familiar sink of the cushion beneath you. Though you sat uncomfortably, your spine stick straight and your bum right on the edge of the couch.

You left her treats every time, in the same spot. You didn’t notice how the bag seemed to magically refill every time.

On your next visit, Alpine napped peacefully on the glass coffee table, right next to a thin vase of flowers.

You flinched. He had decorated. For someone else? But as you stepped in, you recognized the blush pink hue of camellias.

Alpine’s eyes slowly opened until she registered your presence. She walked around the vase, tail adding a dramatic flourish. Totally unnecessary, as the plant stood out enough in Bucky’s horrifically monochrome home.

dad said they were your favorite, she seemed to say.

A week later, Alpine purred in your lap as you leaned back on the soft couch, even daring to turn on the television. You were greeted by an array of music videos lining the search history. All the songs you told him to listen to, but thought he never did.

“This one is the best,” you told Alpine, gesturing to the most recent video played. She looked up at you.

dad’s only played it a million times, she seemed to say as she lengthened her body into a stretch.

“Huh,” you said on your next visit. A single magnet sat on the fridge door, a cartoon bear operating a gondola. A souvenir Bucky picked up after a conference in Italy. Also known as, your old message to Bucky when he came home in the dead of night from assignments. It meant, food inside. eat, please, then come to bed. i love you. He would sit his aching body, massaging a bruise or picking at Sam's shoddy gauze work, and enjoy the meal you prepared.

It must have been a fluke, but you found yourself pulling open the fridge door. A nearly empty fridge, save for a styrofoam container perched on the middle rack.

You sat at the kitchen table, enjoying your comfort meal from the Thai restaurant you could never stop praising, while Alpine watched you lazily.

“Tell him thank you,” you told her sheepishly. “I guess.”

i’ll think about it, she seemed to say as she yawned and walked away.

Every time you visited, there was a small gesture to make your stay just a little more comfortable. Your favorite tub of ice cream. Your favorite candle. Your favorite author's new book. This was Bucky's love. It was quiet. It was subtle. It crept up on you, like the smile you didn’t know you were wearing. He was details.

You filled up his fridge, a colorful combination of fruit, vegetables, and snacks. You brought in bags full of throw pillows and blankets, arranging it carefully in his home. The muted colors looked blinding in contrast with the monochrome pieces Bucky preferred.

And this was your love. It was the big-ass elephant in the room, if the elephant also yelled, "Hello! I'm here!" It was a clown car, pouring out in impossible amounts. It demanded to be seen, it demanded to be heard.

“Big it is,” Bucky said, feeling the cool air of the fridge, staring at the arrangement of food that threatened to spill over.

Alpine had the honor of watching you both. There was a lot she seemed to say.

You hummed, turning the key until you heard the lock free itself.

Balloons grazed the ceiling, shaped in cheesy hearts and shining proudly in metallic pink and red. Bouquets of forget-me-nots and roses, asters and camellias greeted you from the tables and countertops. You heard the familiar rhythm of your favorite song filling the air.

Alpine stood in the middle of it all, mewing happily and swiping at one of the many balloon strings.

Bucky stepped out from the doorway that led to his bedroom, just barely. You could make out the blue shirt that stretched over his chest, the wrinkles in his pants, the nervous twitch of his jaw.

"No debrief?" you said hesitantly, stopping short at the door.

"Cancelled. I had something that took precedence.

“Alpine insisted on the decor. I told her it was too much,” he said sheepishly, still gauging your reactions, gesturing towards his pet that paid both of you absolutely no mind.

You stared at him in disbelief, still not sure he was really there, in front of you, but you couldn't help but laugh.

“I worked on a schedule,” he said quickly, “with Sam. We called Clint, we got his advice.”

“Uh-huh,” you said absentmindedly, dropping your bag on a chair.

“Even Scott had some advice, but a lot of it depended on being on house arrest…”

“Sure,” you said, fingers grazing over rose petals.

“All this to say, I'm sorry. And I know you hate hearing it, and I know I don’t deserve it, but if you were-”

“Bucky?” you interrupted, taking one last step to close the gap between you two. In his anxious state, he hadn’t realized you were making your way over to him. Your fingers reached out, the prickle of his stubble tickling your fingertips. He sighed into your touch as you traced the chain of his dog tags, setting off the familiar jingle of metal.

“Yes?” he breathed, barely audible. His arms stayed at his side, heavy as anvils, the desire to trace your curves overwhelming but wondering if he was deserving.

“Say what you need to say,” you murmured, “quickly.” You wrapped your arms around his neck; he lowered his head until your foreheads rested against each other. His hazy blue eyes rested underneath furrowed brows, tense with regret.

“I'll do it right this time.” He spoke to your lips, and you watched as his eyes dipped low, masking the blue behind a curtain of eyelashes. “For you. For us.”

“I'm just here for the cat, Barnes,” you responded with a smile, pressing your lips to his.

He chuckled, feeling sensation return to his arms. He cupped his hands underneath your thighs and lifted. You yelped as you wrapped your legs around his torso and your hands gripped the back of his shirt.

Alpine paused her playdate with a curling ribbon just long enough to watch you two disappear into the bedroom.

my job here is done, she seemed to say.

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the-winter-spider · 2 months

Text

Element Part 5 | B.Barnes

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: none i dont think

A/N: Yall this part is 3 years too late and im soooo sorry but heres part 5

Masterlist

Element Master post

—

A series of voice’s were surrounding Bucky, he couldn't help but tune them out. He was stunned, in shock to say the least. He couldn’t shake the look of pure fear on your face, it matched his. His eyes were glued to the spot where you once stood.

The team stared at the burnt spot in shock, the air still crackling from the sudden storm. Steve’s face was etched with worry as he looked around, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Where did she go?” Tony asked, his voice a mix of frustration and concern.

“I don’t know,” Steve replied, “but we need to find her.”

Bucky couldn’t get the image out of his head of the pure terror that was all over your face.

“We will but we need to figure out whatever that was” Sam spoke softly trying to ease the tension in the room.

Bucky was still frozen in place, his hand aching from the burn, his mind reeling. He felt helpless and angry, the sting of the pain on his hand a stark reminder of the devastation that had just unfolded.

Natasha moved to Bucky’s side, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “We’ll figure this out,” she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil. “We need to get to the lab and trace any signs of where she might have gone.”

As they moved to the tech lab, Tony's mind raced through possible scenarios, trying to make sense of Y/n’s sudden disappearance. Bruce was already at the controls, scanning for any anomalous energy readings.

Steve stood back, looking at the empty space where Y/n had been, feeling a profound sense of loss. “We need to find her before she gets hurt or worse,” he said quietly.

Bucky, his mind still on Y/n, whispered to himself, “I’ll find you. I promise.”

Steve moved passed Bucky, kneeling down to take a look at the spot where you were just minutes ago “Its burnt” he paused standing back up “I thought Thor would be the only one to control lightning”

—

The team worked in a tense silence, with Bruce and Tony poring over the data, trying to pinpoint any energy fluctuations or anomalies that could indicate Y/n’s location. Natasha and Steve worked on the ground, reaching out to their networks and using any available resources to trace her.

Hours passed, and the weight of the situation hung heavy. Just as hope began to wane, Bruce’s voice broke the silence.

“Got something,” he said, pointing to a series of erratic energy spikes on his screen. “These readings don’t match anything we’ve seen before. It’s like she’s creating a disturbance.”

Tony quickly examined the data, his eyes narrowing as he processed the information. “These spikes are concentrated around a few locations. It looks like she’s moving, but there’s a pattern. If we can pinpoint the areas she’s likely to be in, we can narrow down the search.”

Steve nodded, his determination clear. “Let’s split up. We’ll cover each of these areas and keep in constant contact. We need to find her before it’s too late.”

The team mobilised quickly, each member heading to their assigned locations. Bucky, despite his injured hand, refused to stay behind. He joined Steve and Natasha, their shared concern driving them forward.

The search was gruelling, with each location yielding no immediate results. Just as fatigue was beginning to set in, Steve’s comms crackled to life.

“Steve, this is Tony,” came the voice. “We’ve tracked another energy spike to an old warehouse district on the outskirts of the city. It matches the pattern from earlier.”

Steve immediately relayed the information to the others. “Everyone, we’ve got a lead. Meet up at the warehouse district and be ready for anything.”

—-

The darkness around you felt thick and suffocating, yet there was a clarity to it, as if you were at the heart of your own essence. You could see the faint outlines of energy pulsing rhythmically, responding to the surge within you. It was like being at the centre of a storm, the power both exhilarating and terrifying.

In this surreal space, your thoughts raced, trying to grasp the enormity of what you were experiencing. You could feel the raw energy coursing through you, a force you had never fully understood or controlled before. The very fabric of this dark realm seemed to vibrate with your emotions.

A figure began to materialise in the distance, emerging from the shadows. It was you, but different—more confident, more powerful. The figure’s eyes were calm, their presence radiating control and understanding.

“What are you?” you called out, though your voice sounded distant, almost ethereal.

The figure spoke, their voice echoing with an authority that resonated deep within you. “I am the part of you that has always been here, but you have yet to truly acknowledge. You have power beyond your current understanding, and it’s time for you to embrace it.”

As the figure approached, the darkness around you began to shift, the energy ebbing and flowing in harmony with their movements. “You have been afraid of your power, fearing its impact on those around you”

You swallowed hard, the figure’s words hitting you like a cold wave. “Fearing its impact,” you repeated, the weight of realisation pressing down on you. “Is that why I’ve been running? Hiding?”

The figure’s gaze bore into you, their eyes glowing with an almost malevolent intensity. “You think you’re protecting them by hiding from your true self. But in reality, you’re only feeding the darkness inside you. Your fear only makes you weaker, more dangerous.”

The shadows around you seemed to pulse with the figure’s words, swirling violently as if in agreement. The energy surged, whipping around you like a tempest, and you struggled to remain grounded.

“Why?” you shouted into the storm, your voice breaking. “Why does it have to be like this? Why can’t I control it?”

The figure’s expression hardened, their voice cold and unyielding. “Control is an illusion. You’ve never truly understood the depth of what you are capable of. You’ve only scratched the surface, and now, your fear has unleashed a force that’s beyond your comprehension.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the fear and anger building within you. “I didn’t ask for this! I didn’t want any of this!”

A sinister smile crept across the figure’s face. “You can’t deny what you are. The power you’ve been so afraid of is part of you, and it’s consuming you from within. It’s a part of your essence, your very being.”

The energy around you intensified, dark tendrils reaching out, twisting and coiling with an almost malevolent intent. You could feel it trying to pull you in, to consume you completely.

“You can’t fight it,” the figure said, their voice now a chilling whisper. “You can’t escape it. Embrace it, or be consumed by it.”

You staggered back, the weight of their words crushing you. “No. I refuse to let this darkness take me.”

The figure’s form wavered, their eyes flashing with a dark satisfaction. “Refusal won’t save you. You’ll either accept your fate or be destroyed by your own power.”

Desperation clawed at you, and you felt a surge of defiance rise up. “I won’t give in. I’ll find another way.”

The figure’s laughter echoed through the void, a harsh, discordant sound. “Very well. But remember, you cannot outrun yourself. This darkness is a part of you. No matter how far you go, it will always be with you.”

As the figure’s laughter faded, the darkness around you seemed to close in, the energy still swirling violently. You felt yourself being pulled towards the void, the overwhelming sense of despair and fear threatening to engulf you.

As you fell deeper and deeper into the darkness, you could feel Bucky’s presence getting further and further away. The sliver of happiness you had spark in you thinking of never seeing Bucky again, the team again. Made you panic, you shot your hand out trying to reach out for anything in the darkness and you did.

You created some sort of portal, wormhole. You were being tossed through locations that held significant moments in your life.

You fell through the pond by the compound, that chinese place Tony loved, the old hydrabase you were kept at, the forest in Canada where Sam got shot on your watch, the shitty safe house Bucky and you spent a week long mission at, best week of your life.

With each hole you fell through you could feel yourself getting weaker. You closed your eyes reaching out with your other hand hoping for a miracle, you finally got one when you saw a warehouse, as you were falling you reached out for the pole and you barely grasped it, when you did you could feel the hole trying to suck you back im but you used all your strength you had to hold on and when you did it finally closed and you hit the ground hard.

—

The impact of the ground knocked the breath out of you, pain radiating through your body as you struggled to focus. The warehouse was dimly lit, the shadows around you deep and foreboding. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your strength nearly depleted from the chaotic journey through your past.

You lay there, clutching the metal pole you’d barely managed to grab onto, the remnants of the portal’s energy still crackling faintly around you. The warehouse felt eerily quiet, the only sound the distant hum of machinery and your laboured breathing.

As you slowly pushed yourself up, the memories of your chaotic journey flashed through your mind: the pond, the restaurant, the base, the forest, and that safe house with Bucky. Each place held a piece of your heart, a fragment of the happiness and pain you’d experienced. The weight of those memories pressed heavily on you, a reminder of everything you’d fought for, everything you’d lost.

You glanced around the warehouse, the realisation dawning that you were now alone, isolated from the team and Bucky. The fear of never seeing them again was overwhelming, a sharp contrast to the fleeting relief you’d felt moments before. The darkness you’d escaped had been a manifestation of your internal struggle, a brutal reminder of the power you were trying to control.

The shadows in the warehouse seemed to press in on you, the echoes of your inner turmoil reverberating off the walls. You could almost hear the distant, mocking laughter of the figure that had tormented you, a cruel reminder of your struggle against the darkness within.

Summoning the last of your strength, you forced yourself to stand. You needed to regain control, to find a way out of this darkness, and to return to those you cared about. The warehouse, though dim and foreboding, was a tangible anchor, a point from which you could start over.

You focused on the metal pole, using it to steady yourself. Despite the exhaustion, you felt a glimmer of determination. You had faced the storm, survived the chaos, and you weren’t about to let it consume you.

You were soaked from the pond, had twigs stuck in your matted hair from that stupid tree you hit falling, and you were sure you had a broken rib. With painstaking effort, you began to peel your eyes open and look around. Each place had a significant place in your life, you squinted trying to remember what this place was to you.

Your mouth fell open when you remembered.

—

The warehouse was a chaotic battleground, where Steve, Tony, Sam, and Natasha fought against Hydra agents with relentless efficiency. Steve’s shield clanged against metal, deflecting attacks, while Tony’s repulsors created a storm of deadly energy. Sam, soaring above, dove down with pinpoint accuracy, and Natasha's agility cut through Hydra ranks with precision.

Amid the violence, a new, formidable figure emerged from the shadows. Clad in a sleek, black suit with an obscuring mask, the unknown agent wielded the elements with unsettling control. Powerful gusts of wind and scorching flames erupted from her, disrupting the Avengers’ coordinated effort.

“Watch out!” Tony shouted, narrowly avoiding a fire blast. “We’ve got a new player!”

The Avengers refocused their strategy to confront this formidable opponent. Steve charged forward, his shield raised in defence. His strike was powerful, sending the unknown agent crashing backward into a metal pole with a bone-jarring impact.

The warehouse, once filled with the roar of battle, fell into a tense silence. The remaining Hydra agents had been neutralised, their threat extinguished. Tony, Sam, and Natasha stood with their weapons at the ready, their eyes shifting between the unconscious agent and the chaotic aftermath of the battle.

Tony, lifting his mask, scanned the scene with a mix of concern and scepticism. “You see what she did? She’s off the charts enhanced.”

Sam landed beside him, his face reflecting a mix of worry and disbelief. “She’s not just enhanced, she’s something else entirely. Didn’t take much to knock her out, though.”

“A rookie,” Tony added with a grimace, his eyes fixed on the figure.

Natasha, ever the strategist, assessed the situation with a practised eye. “Experiment, maybe? Looks like Hydra’s been busy with their latest project.”

“Definitely,” Tony agreed, as he continued to scan the area for any lingering threats.

The team approached Y/n cautiously, their initial combat readiness giving way to a more measured curiosity. Y/n lay on the floor, her elemental powers now inactive, her breathing ragged and uneven. As she stirred, the mask slipped from her face, revealing her identity to Steve.

Steve’s heart ached as he took in the sight of her. “She’s just a kid,” he murmured, his voice laced with concern and disbelief.

Y/n’s eyes fluttered open, and she stared at her surroundings with a mix of bewilderment and fear. She struggled to her knees, her gaze darting around the devastated warehouse. The once chaotic scene now felt eerily quiet in contrast to the storm that had just passed.

Tony raised his thrusters in a defensive posture, his eyes sharp and wary. Natasha cautiously kept her gun ready, her gaze steady but cautious. “Stand down,” Tony’s voice boomed, ensuring the team remained alert.

Natasha stepped forward, her expression both professional and empathetic. “Who are you?”

Sam, his wings folded, muttered under his breath, “More like what.”

Y/n’s eyes welled with tears as she looked at her hands, which still crackled with residual energy from her recent outburst. “I—I don’t remember,” she stammered, her voice trembling. “What did I do?”

The sight of her confusion and distress struck a chord with Steve. He could see the fear and pain etched on her face, the horror of realising the destruction she had caused without understanding why. Steve stepped closer, his voice softening with sympathy.

“It’s okay,” Steve said gently, his tone filled with understanding. “You’ve been manipulated. Hydra did this to you.”

Y/n’s breath quickened as she tried to make sense of her actions. Her hands trembled, the remnants of her powers flickering uncontrollably. The crackling energy around her grew more intense, manifesting in flashes of lightning and thunder that mirrored her inner turmoil.

Steve reached out a hand, his expression one of calm reassurance. “We’re here to help you. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Y/n’s eyes locked onto Steve’s, searching for solace amid the chaos. “Help me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Please.”

Steve moved closer, carefully guiding Y/n to her feet. His touch was gentle, reassuring, as he helped her stabilise. The team’s tension eased slightly, their focus shifting to the immediate need to assist her.

Natasha lowered her gun, her expression softening. “We need to get her out of here and assess her condition.”

Steve nodded, his eyes reflecting a blend of concern and determination. “Let’s get her back to the base. We’ll figure out what happened and how to help her.”

Steve carefully lifted Y/n, cradling her in his arms as he guided her towards the transport. Her energy was waning, her exhaustion evident as she leaned against him. The team, their roles shifting from combatants to caregivers, moved swiftly to ensure her safety..

—

As they arrived at the abandoned warehouse, the team spread out, their eyes scanning the desolate area. Bucky’s heart pounded in his chest, each beat driven by the hope that Y/n would be somewhere among the shadows, safe and unharmed.

Natasha’s voice crackled through the comms, breaking through the tense silence. “Steve, Bucky, over here!”

They hurried to her location, pushing through the dimly lit corridors until they reached a small, isolated room at the back of one of the warehouses. Inside, Y/n was huddled in a corner, her hands radiating an eerie, unstable energy. Her breathing was ragged, her eyes darting around the room with a mixture of terror and confusion.

“Doll” Bucky’s voice cracked with a blend of relief and desperation.

Her eyes locked onto his, filled with an overwhelming mix of fear and anguish. “I can’t control it,” she cried out, her voice trembling. “I’m going to hurt everyone around me. I’m going to hurt you.”

The air around her crackled with raw, untamed energy, and Bucky could see her struggle to contain it. With a visible effort, Y/n took a shuddering breath, trying to steady herself. The unstable energy fluctuated violently, yet there was a flicker of control as she attempted to stabilise it.

Bucky approached slowly, his hands held out in a gesture of peace. “Y/n, listen to me. It’s not your fault. We’re here for you. I’m here for you.”

Y/n’s tears fell freely, her resolve faltering under the weight of her fear. Her eyes, filled with torment, sought comfort in Bucky’s gaze. “I’m so scared. I don’t know what’s happening to me. What if I hurt you all?”

Bucky’s heart ached at the sight of her distress. He took a careful step closer, his voice soft and soothing. “You’re not alone in this. We’ve been through hell and back together. We’ll get through this too. You’re stronger than you think, and we’re here to help you find your way back.”

Steve, standing close by, offered a supportive nod. “Just breathe, Y/n. We’ll work through this together. We’re a team.”

The room seemed to close in around them, the energy pulsating with an unsettling rhythm. Y/n’s breathing was shallow, her face pale, but Bucky’s unwavering presence offered a small beacon of hope. He extended a hand toward her, his expression tender and resolute.

“Trust me,” Bucky said gently. “I know you’re scared, but we can do this. I believe in you”

Y/n hesitated, her eyes locked onto Bucky’s with a mixture of doubt and desperation. The raw energy surrounding her began to stabilise further, a sign of her tentative effort to regain control.

Bucky’s voice remained calm and encouraging, his eyes never leaving hers. “You’re not a danger to us. You’re one of us, and we’re not leaving you behind. We’re getting through this together.”

With a final, shuddering breath, Y/n let out a whimper of surrender. Her energy slowly began to wane as she focused on Bucky’s soothing words. The raw power that had once crackled around her diminished to a faint, flickering glow.

Bucky moved closer, wrapping his arms around Y/n in a protective embrace. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice filled with quiet determination. “You’re safe now.”

Y/n clung to Bucky, her sobs muffled against his shoulder as she sought comfort in his steadfast presence “I got you” he whispered in her hair as he carried her back to the jet “I got you and i'm never letting go” He felt his own tears forming as he held you tightly afraid you would disappear from his grasp “I love you” he swallowed back his tears “I love you so much”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfic #reader x avengers captain america #the avengers x reader #bucky x avenger!reader #avengers reader insert

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mcubuckyxlokisbitch · 11 months

Text

Out of all the Time Lines Chpt1: Avengers I need your help

Short Series !

Female Asgardian reader (now avenger) X TVA Loki

Chapter 1: Avengers I need your help (done)

Chapter 2: Interrogations and proclamations (done)

Chapter 3: Even Asgardians have myths (comming soon)

Chapter 4: -

Chapter 5: -

Chapter 6: -

Summary: After your Lokis death and have moved on and joined the Avengers. After the aftermath of Endgame you and the other remaining Avengers all seek shelter in the new Avengers Warehouse Pepper Potts bought as a temporary replacement while the Avengers mansion is being renovated. What happened after a very tired mission. Well, you're speechless, to say the least.

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

You entered the living room with the rest of the team all covered in dust, scratches and tired faces. All of you just saved another casual disaster but the aftermath was the annoying part, burning buildings, hurt people, without Tony stark it meant the clean up crew for the Avengers were the Avengers.

"Alright, what movie and what restaurant shall we engage in tonight." You say as you use your magic to teleport your sword to your room and grab the telephone on the coffee table, plopping on the couch.

"I don't know, but I am in the mood for some Mexican food," Sam said walking in and taking off his goggles.

"Yeah no we just had Mexican yesterday Sam there is no way I am eating another burrito, enchiladas, or taco for the 5th time this week." Bucky shouted as he stretched out on the loveseat next to the couch.

Scott, Thor, Wanda, Peter, Kate and Yelena walked in as they made their way to the kitchen and the living room to relax after a long day.

"Well I for one could actually go for some Phò." Wanda said while grabbing a glass of water. "Yes that actually sounds nice," you replied.

"Second it." Bucky Raised his hand and passed out on the loveseat.

"I will fiest on any of your choosing," Thor said while taking off his cape to wipe off the gunk from storm breaker.

"Phò sounds wonderful. Just make sure I get one of those spring roles. Oh and don't forget were running out of chilli sauce." Yelena shouted from the fridge.

"I just restocked." Scott threw his arms and groaned. "hah." Yelena mocked.

Peter took off his mask and rubbed his forehead combing his hair back, he had the worst migraine ever. Was this a spider sense? Why is it worse than ever?

You shouted for his attention, "Peter man of the hour, Mexican or Phò." Peter didn't answer, he was trying to hold himself on the table trying to compile himself.

"Peter?" You looked towards him. You started to get worried and walked towards him. "Peter. Did you hear me, Phò or Mexican?"

Peter looked at you and fell on his butt.

"Look kid we all are tired but at least try to make it to the couch I ain't carrying you." Same teased.

"Peter are you alright," Wanda said with a concerned face rushing towards him.

"Just tired... crazy migraine, feels like a spider sense but not ...it's the worst I've had." Peter looked at the concerned faces towards him, while he found support from your hand "Probably just tired." he chuckled.

"Well Phò it is, maybe next time Sam." You shook the phone and gave it to Scott to take the orders because he knew the team lie the back of his hand.

"Peter do you require help to get on the couch." You brought Peter back up as he tried to make his way onto the kitchen island.

"I'm fine just need water and a good meal. Imma lay by here." He groaned and slipped onto the table face on the surface.

You went to the sink to pour him a glass of water. Placed it on the counter making sure he drank every drop.

You grabbed a popcorn pack from a top shelf and brought it to the microwave as you set the time. You looked back at Peter who was getting a second refill.

You crossed your arms as you leaned back on the wall waiting for the timer on the microwave to go off. You closed you eyes resting your head as you looked up the ceiling.

"Teya what movie...Not silence of the lambs"

"Action or Comedy, Sam I don't mind..." You sighed not opening your eyes taking some shut eye before the alarm in the warehouse blares for the next emergency.

"Cassie said Gnomeo and Juliet was nice," Scott said looking through his phone.

"Bucky is scared of the Frog." You chuckled.

"In my Defense doll I only said it to make my move on you." he smirked kissing your cheek.

"Now thats a new level of low and pathetic." Sam groaned in disgust. You try reach for an aspirin on the top shelf but Bucky beat you to it.

"Here." he passed the bottle to you.

"I lift cars, I think can lift a shelf handle." you retorted to him

"We talked about this doll," he places both his arms on your shoulder.

"Right..." you breathed and dialouged dramatically " Why thank you, James, you're such a gentleman." flipping your hair.

"OH I call dibs on Robocop" Yelena raised her hand after laying out all the snacks.

"I'm letting the kid's pop culture spinner decide." Sam takes the remote from Scott and faces back to Peter. "Yo Pete what movie."

"Babylon," Peter replied from the kitchen island still rubbing his temple.

"As long as it's not Hamilton." You teased.

"Sams got it all memorized by now." Bucky continued.

"Not as much as you Buck, I heard him belting burn last night," Sam replied. The microwave beeped as you turned your back from the crowd and you grabbed a bowl to place the pack in.

"Heh well, you can say he's gonna be your right-hand man." you giggled at your cringe joke. "Get it." but no response was made, just silence from the crowd.

"Oh cmon that was fun-" you turn to see the reason of their response and froze "Ny......"

"Avengers I need your help."

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fanfic-scribbles · 23 days

Text

Dinner Date Chapter 34

Masterlist

<<Previous Chapter Next Chapter>>

Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

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

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

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

Chapter 34: The Mission

Chapter Summary: Steve goes on a routine mission and ends up confronting the Winter Soldier. It doesn’t end well.

Chapter Word Count: 8602

A/N: I have not coherently put together how “CA:TWS” happened in this universe but I have tried to thread it through. I hope I explained it just enough for what matters, but if you’re still confused, I’ll put a summary at the very end of this chapter. That said: I am soooo sorry for how long this chapter is. I had actually wanted to combine this chapter and the next, but when all was said and done, it took everything in me not to split this chapter up into two. As a result, there is a bit more angsting than I normally do, but…you gotta have some hurt to get to the comfort. Hang in there; it’s coming <3

It figured that when Steve’s work started to die down, mine started to pick up. Not in the overly obvious ways, given how the corporate overlords were deathly allergic to paying overtime, but just enough to leave me too drained to do much other than trudge home, do basic human maintenance, and then sleep before I had to do it all over again the next day.

It was near the end of the week and on top of an especially long fucking day, that when I finally got home well after dark, I practically crawled into my apartment. I tried to hit the lights on my way in but missed, and I didn’t care enough to backtrack. Apparently I had left a lamp on in the living room this morning, (oops), so it wasn’t that big of a deal, but given I could barely keep my eyes open it barely mattered anyways.

I stumbled further in, dropping my shit to the floor and yawning so big I could just barely see a lump of something on the couch. Ugh; my laundry. Instead of contending with that, I tried to kick my shoes off. It didn’t work super great, and I ended up tripping over myself and falling down. While sitting on the floor I realized how great sitting down was, and my floor was mostly clean, and I really didn’t want to have to fight with gravity any more today anyway.

“Fuck it, I live here now,” I grumbled and flopped over to lie on the floor. It was a good floor. Clean. Sturdy, yet comfy. But…there was something in front of me.

I blinked when I realized I was staring at boots. On feet. Attached to legs. Belonging to…

“Oh. Hi Steve.” Well, that explained the light, at least. I tried to think of why he was here, and after a few seconds, a single synapse managed to fire. “Shit. Is it Thursday already?”

“Yeah.” He leaned over and looked like he was trying not to laugh. “You, uh, comfortable there, Sweetheart?”

“Mmm. It is a good floor.” I thought about moving.

Luckily Steve came down and crouched closer, next to my head. “Did you really not notice me?”

“I sort of saw a shape but I thought I left my laundry on the couch.” Hey, wait; that meant I hadn’t. “Ooo, I did my laundry. Go me.”

“Yeah, go you,” Steve chuckled and stroked my hair. “Come on, the couch is more comfortable than the floor.”

“If the couch wants me it knows where to find me.”

He said my name sternly. Well, semi-sternly, but the push was there. I sighed but rolled over so I was on my back. I extended my arms to him. “Help; I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.”

His laugh was quick but full, like his beautiful smile when he wasn’t sure he should show it. God, I loved that sound. Go me indeed. “I thought I was supposed to be the geriatric in this relationship,” he said and pulled me up effortlessly.

“Only to the uninitiated,” I said and brushed off my clothes. “But only one of us regularly curses their joints and back and, surprisingly, it’s not the one who bodychecks Nazis and aliens and Nazi aliens for a living.”

He smiled and pulled me in. But then, there it was– The Concerned Forehead Crease. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked and started patting over my body.

I rolled my eyes, but I put my face right next to his. “If I say ‘no,’ are you gonna keep feeling me up?” I asked. The Crease relaxed, and he smirked and kissed me. I kept him drawn in and close and he melted right into me. I wished I could have done the same but something about the moment felt…off. I chalked it up to a weird fucking week and one of the longer days of my life, but even though I tried to focus on the fact that I was home and kissing my boyfriend, something nagged at the back of my mind.

When I finally realized why I felt so weird, I pulled back.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, a little dazed.

“You’re not in normal clothes.” I looked him up and down. Normal-ish, but his pants were definitely different, and I pulled back part of his jacket to see a darker swatch of his uniform. “You’re dressed for work. You’re leaving?”

His expression softened. “Not for a while yet. I did as much prep as I needed so I could come see you for a few hours. I’ll have to get back to the tower very early in the morning, but you’ll be well asleep by then.”

Steve was leaving again, for who knew how long, and I had taken my sweet time getting home and barely clinging to consciousness during the little time we had together.

“Sweetheart?” he said uncertainly and slipped his hand into mine to grip. “Are you mad at me?”

I took a deep breath and tried to exhale all my frustration. “No; no, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at me; I fucking–”

“Don’t– don’t be mad,” he interrupted and kissed my head. “Things happen. It’s good enough we get to spend time together now.”

“Hmf.” I glanced at the clock. “When do you have to leave?”

“Before you wake up in the morning.”

“That’s assuming I go to sleep,” I said and started for the coffeemaker.

He snagged my hand and pulled me right back into his arms. “You are going to get some sleep.”

I scowled at him. “You’re not the boss of me.”

He softened into a smile and nuzzled me. “Well, if bossing won’t work, how about bribery?”

I nipped at his jaw. “What kind of bribery?”

He kissed me. “The kind where we go make out in your bed until you fall asleep.”

That did actually sound really nice. Cozy and comfy. I eyed his outfit, and he gave a helpless shrug. “Hm,” I said. “Boots are not allowed in bed.”

“Fair enough,” he said and let go. “Go get ready, and I’ll take care of ‘em.”

I should have argued, but I trundled off with (mostly) minimal grumbling. I wanted to argue. I felt bad that Steve had been waiting around for me while I did something stupid (work; ugh). Even though I would have avoided it if I could have, it still sucked to know I’d been elsewhere instead of spending time with him when he’d be leaving again.

But I dressed for bed– fresh pajamas, without any holes to speak of, and I brushed my teeth extra nice and made sure I looked especially presentable before crawling into bed. My pillow felt so nice, but I heroically kept my eyes open, and was rewarded with a nice sight when Steve came in. Sans boots and jacket, and my but that work suit was very flattering. Dark blue was a good color on him. However, he also brought in the small soft blanket from the couch.

“The outfit’s protective, and that means it’s not all that comfortable from the outside,” he said, laying on top of the covers but draping the blanket so it covered his chest before he wrapped an arm around me and I snuggled closer.

“I’m so glad you thought of my delicate sensibilities,” I said and slid my hand behind his neck.

He grinned and opened his mouth, but I dove in to save him from himself. And myself, from him inadvertently talking his way into getting kicked out of bed. I didn’t have the most patience at the moment, but as we fell into a familiar rhythm I did start to relax more and more, until it was too hard to keep my head up.

“Damn it,” I mumbled as he chuckled. I didn’t bother opening my eyes; I was done fooling myself. “How long are you going to be gone?”

“Not long; not even a week,” he said. He slowly traced gentle circles in my skin. “We’re just doing some cleanup.”

“M’kay,” I said as I started to doze. “I’ll make it up…when you get home.”

“We’ll spend plenty of time together when I get back,” Steve said like he was agreeing with me.

“Stay safe,” I said, or tried to say, just before I fell completely asleep.

Several days later, on an otherwise pleasant Sunday morning, I got a phone call. Not a text, a call. From Natasha.

“Are you guys okay?” I asked as soon as I picked up, hoping that she was immediately about to launch into bitching about Sam or Steve doing something stupidly heroic that got them hurt but not too badly.

She was silent. “Everyone’s alive,” she said in a flat tone of voice that made me sit up straighter. Despite her words, I felt my stomach drop like a rock. Something felt very, very wrong.

“Natasha?” I asked, and my voice was shakier than I expected.

“I can’t say more over this line,” she said. “Someone is coming to pick you up and bring you here. I’ll explain more when you arrive.”

I opened my mouth to ask more, but she fucking hung up on me. I took a few seconds to sit with my panic before I got up, took several deep breaths, and grabbed a few things. Just the basics I always took when leaving the house. I waffled over the portable charger, unsure of how long I’d be out, but a knock at the door made me jump. I grabbed whatever was closest, made sure I had my wallet and keys and phone at the very least, and opened the door.

“Phil,” I said in surprise.

His smile was definitely strained. “Maria’s waiting in the car,” he said and gestured for me to go ahead. I nearly fumbled with locking my own door, I felt so scattered, and as we walked down the hall I opened my mouth, but Phil held up his hand. “I’m sorry,” he said as we waited for the elevator. “I promise, we can talk more in the car.”

I sighed, but his voice was just soothing enough that some of the jitters went away, and since this was apparently the only way I’d get more information, I followed him out without another word.

As soon as the door shut and Maria and Phil were buckling up in front, I leaned over the seat. “Is Steve okay?”

“He’s going to be just fine,” Phil said and started the engine. “Put your seatbelt on.”

At least I had that much to go on, so I sat back and did as he said. “Why did Natasha call me instead of him? Is he hurt bad? Why did you come to pick me up? What is going on?”

“Most of it I think I’ll let Captain Rogers tell you,” Phil said, sounding almost business-like. He’d never talked to me like this before, so I paid attention. “But the facts are this: there was an altercation with a potential enemy agent known as the Winter Soldier. Captain Rogers engaged him while Agent Romanoff and Falcon subdued the surrounding Hydra operatives.” Phil looked in the rearview mirror at me. Maria was pretending not to exist, so I focused on him. “Steve is in medical, but he shouldn’t be there for too long. Overnight at most,” Phil said, a little gentler. “But he was still hurt in the scuffle.”

There was so much I wasn’t being told I felt like I was fucking choking on the elephant. “He’s been hurt and in the hospital before. Why did you guys come to pick me up?”

Phil looked back at the road, and didn’t glance at me anymore. “We have more information now, on the Winter Soldier,” he said, going matter-of-fact flat again. “His past, his…identity.”

There was silence. I tried to peer around the seat. Maria looked at him sharply, but I couldn’t see Phil’s reaction. Just hear him as he picked up like he’d never stopped. “And some of his movements over the past couple of years. We have reason to believe he may know who you are. Specifically, who you are to Captain Rogers.”

Well, that was unsettling. I sat back in my seat. “Does it really matter that much?” I asked. “And what does ‘potential enemy’ mean? Who is this guy?”

“It’s complicated,” Phil said. “Captain Rogers will tell you more.”

I opened my mouth, but Maria held up her hand, and once I shut my mouth, she held up her phone and started making a call. A bitter and self-centered part of me wondered if she was just doing that to make me shut up, but I just crossed my arms and fumed to myself, trying to metaphorically steam out all the anger before we got to the hospital. Steve was hurt and would need me to not be a raging bitch, and I could manage that. For him, at least. Right now, his friends were on thin fucking ice.

Especially so when we didn’t even get to the hospital. We turned off onto a small side street between two nondescript buildings, and Phil turned into a driveway I hadn’t seen even seconds before he was in it, and then we were at a parking turnstile guarded by people with very big guns.

“Get your ID out,” Maria said as Phil spoke quietly to the attendant. “We’ll need it to get you clearance.”

I wanted to know what the fuck was going on, but more than that I wanted to be away from this, so I scrambled to do what she asked and managed only slight trembling when I handed it up to her. I didn’t even drop it.

“I’m going to roll down the window and they’re going to confirm your identity,” Phil said, and I did appreciate the warning, considering when I faced the window, I was looking right at someone’s very fancy high-tech phone. It was brief, and after only a couple of seconds they walked away and the window went back up. I expected that to be the end of it, so when we sat there for several more seconds I started to wonder if I had been secretly framed for murder somewhere and was about to find out in the worst way possible.

Instead, the attendant handed Phil a laminated card on a clip, which he then handed back to me, with my ID, and I found myself staring at maybe the worst photo I had ever taken. “Wow,” I said, distracted enough that I only realized we were moving again when we started down an incline. “You guys put the DMV to shame.”

I couldn’t see Phil’s full face in the rearview still, but his eyes crinkled with a smile. “Don’t worry; nobody takes a good photo,” he said as if to reassure me.

I looked at Maria, who was only ever immaculately put-together, and thought of Sharon, who was only ever gorgeous, and Natasha, who was only ever what she wanted to be, and even Fury, who was nothing but utterly terrifying. “Sure.” But I cleared my throat as we turned into a gated area. “I sort of thought we were going to the hospital Steve has been in before?”

“Captain Rogers will normally only be here for immediate patch-up after missions. He does not like to stay long, so if he has more extensive injuries, and they allow for it, we take him to the hospital he trusts,” Phil said. “Circumstances, this time, have not permitted that.”

I thought about that, because Steve had sort of said as much once– that he woke up in a SHIELD medical unit when he was unfrozen, and the shock of the whole thing had fucked him up. I assumed this wasn’t the same place, since we weren’t anywhere near Times Square, but, now, not only was he physically fucked up, he was in a place that might have reminded him of a really bad mental spot. I said nothing but tried to let my disapproval seep out of me in waves.

“He hasn’t been on his own,” Maria said. Not soft or gentle, but understanding. Sometimes it was nice being around spies, if only so I didn’t have to try to emote too hard. “Black Widow has not been far away, and Falcon is with him now.”

That Sam was here was a huge fucking relief, actually, because we had only just parked and I was exhausted and dreading having to be the strong one. Also, it was curious that Maria was defaulting to code names around me, but she was also way more strait-laced than I’d ever seen her, and I already thought she was kind of a hard sell normally. I sure as hell wasn’t going to bring it up though– I had the mental space to care about the well-being of one person right now, and I didn’t want to risk any delay in getting to him. This was probably her version of being stuck in work mode.

I didn’t give a shit about SHIELD interior decorating, except to note that the building we were in, despite the large underground parking garage, felt very narrow and was incredibly bereft of people. The only sign of life were guards stationed at points along the way, and all of them stood straight and gave an acknowledging nod to Phil and Maria when we walked past. I was practically bouncing in the next elevator we took, hoping it would lead me right to Steve.

When the doors opened and I saw Natasha standing there I almost felt relief– until she said a few clipped words to Phil and Maria in Russian and didn’t even acknowledge me. We walked out of the elevator, she walked in, hit the button, and she was gone without another word. I shook it off the best I could, followed Phil and Maria past the occasional SHIELD worker or guard (or both?) until we got to a door.

“Excuse me,” Maria murmured and peeled off to talk to someone who looked like a doctor.

Phil said my name and introduced me to the agent at the door. But he didn’t give me their name. “I have something to take care of,” he said. “They’ll be here if you need anything, or if you’re done visiting.”

“Thanks,” I said and took a deep breath. Everyone said that Steve was going to be okay, and he was alive, and safe, and that was all that mattered. The agent opened the door and I walked in, managed a small smile as Sam noticed me, and–

Everyone was full of shit. Steve was covered in large, ugly bruises; his whole right arm was bandaged up and I could see burns at the edge that still hadn’t healed, as well as healing red skin in other places. He was sleeping, but his face was twisted in pain even out of consciousness. He almost looked like he was going to cry.

I had never seen him look so bad.

“What…happened?” I asked, stumbling forward.

“Hey. You’re gonna need to sit down for this particular story,” Sam said. He was using his gentle ‘I do this for a living’ therapist voice and fuck if that didn’t set off all my alarms. I didn’t want to deal with him yet, couldn’t even look at anything but Steve, so I slipped past him and took the chair next to the bed. Sam pulled his chair next to me and took my hand, giving it a squeeze I could feel only in the physical sense. “He’s gonna be okay.”

I stared at him and tried my best not to look like I was going to set him on fire with my mind. Sam hadn’t done anything, but I had had it with all the talk-around. “Natasha would only tell me everyone made it out alive. Phil and Maria came to pick me up for some reason, and Phil only told me he got in a fight with the Winter Soldier guy,” I said, trying to be as neutral as possible, and, failing that, at least trying to be quiet. So I mostly ended up hissing, “What the fuck is going on?!”

Sam put his hand on my back and rubbed, and I literally had to force the tears back. I didn’t know what was happening but it was bad. “He’s gonna be all right,” Sam murmured, but even he looked doubtful as he glanced at Steve. “But he’s got a lot to deal with right now.”

“Like what.” I was no longer asking.

Sam didn’t answer right away. He chewed on his lip for a few seconds. “What all do you know about the Winter Soldier?”

I wanted to yell. Why did I care? “Big bad assassin guy. Was involved in whatever the fuck happened in DC with SHIELD; started on Hydra’s side, then suddenly switched for some unknown reason and helped against them. Apparently was only on their side because they tortured him to hell and back.” Maybe I was missing some stuff, but that felt like all the bullet points. Except… I looked at Steve, then back at Sam. “What did he do?”

Sam breathed deep. “We’ve been trying to find him. Partly because we know what he’s capable of, partly because we want to help him,” he said. He seemed so sincere when he said that. I doubted how much SHIELD would want to help a former enemy combatant, but for Sam and Steve, I did believe it. “Also important to mention is that we knew he’s been a prisoner of Hydra for a long time. Longer than normal; reports go back to the sixties or seventies of his first show on the scene. They used cryo-freezing as a form of suspended animation– only bring him out when they needed him for a special job, then put him back under. Ad nauseum.”

Ad nauseum was right. I shivered a bit at the thought. Sam leaned forward in his chair, letting his hands clasp in front as his eyes dropped away from mine. “So when we heard a faction of some Hydra remnants got their hands on him and were trying to bring him back under control, we raced to the rescue.” Sam visibly swallowed. “And, for the first time, we actually got a look at his face.”

I waited. But he hesitated, like he didn’t want to say it.

“It’s Bucky.”

I first registered the appearance of Steve’s voice meant that Steve was awake and I whipped my head to look at him. What little relief I felt was short– there was such a dead look in his eyes as he stared vacantly at the ceiling.

And then I registered the words. At first, it didn’t make sense. I couldn’t figure out what Bucky had to do with–

Prisoner for a long time– suspended animation–

“What?” I said, barely audible even to myself as I realized why the world felt like it was dropping out. I knew Steve heard it, but he didn’t acknowledge it. He didn’t acknowledge anything. I looked at Sam.

He nodded, and let out a breath. Meanwhile I felt like I was going to cry. This had nothing to do with me but everything to do with Steve and I didn’t know what to do, how to help. If I even could. I scrabbled for Steve’s hand without looking and squeezed. He didn’t react. “All the info we scraped together– it’s pretty minimal. Nothing with any hints to the Winter Soldier’s identity,” Sam said, occasionally glancing at Steve. “So we knew we’d barely scratched the surface. After this last–…”

…This last, which had left Steve more than a mental wreck. “What happened,” I said again, trying to compose myself. Steve couldn’t do it, so I had to be together. For him. I took a deep breath and focused on that. “Hydra got to– …to him again. And then– then what?”

“They were trying to bring him back under their control.”

Sam and I both jumped a bit, though I felt reassured when Steve finally did squeeze my hand, even if it was small. Natasha stood by the door, with Clint. She cast a glance over Steve, but she looked…okay. Better than her phone voice had hinted at, at least, and better than when I’d seen her at the elevator. Clint looked more serious than I’d ever seen him, but he gave a little wave, and they both came to join us at Steve’s bed, Clint leaning on the wall and Natasha standing in the space beside Sam and me.

“Whatever methods they used in DC aren’t working anymore,” Natasha continued, looking at Steve. “This time, they relied on the classic standards– physical reinforcement, manual conditioning, heavy drugging–”

“He didn’t know which way was up,” Steve said, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat, but when I tried to rub my thumb over his hand, he took it away. His face was stone, and he didn’t look at me– or anyone. “He didn’t know what he was doing.”

“He was lashing out at anybody who got too close,” Natasha said, and inclined her head to me, then to Steve. Obviously, yeah, I could figure out what happened there. “Once he recognized Steve, he…stopped, looked horrified, and ran away. We didn’t find him again, but while waiting for evac I did find where he had holed up before he fell into the trap they’d set. And there, I found documents he had salvaged that confirmed his identity.”

The silence after that was…awkward. I didn’t know what to say. I was afraid to say anything, in case it was wrong. But they all kept looking at Steve, like he was going to show them–…I didn’t even know, but it was stupid. And rude.

I swallowed. “He got away. From you guys and Hydra, right?” I asked. It felt stupid, but…I wanted to know. “Do you think…he’s okay? Physically?”

Natasha let out a little sigh, Sam rubbed his face, and Clint rolled his shoulders. I didn’t know if they actually thought I was stupid, bit whatever; so long as they stopped looking at Steve like they were waiting to watch a crack form right down the center of him. “There’s no reason to believe otherwise,” Natasha said, and she looked so incredibly tired in that moment I felt a little bad for my uncharitable thoughts. She’d mentioned the first time I’d heard about the Winter Soldier that the brainwashing stuff hit too close to home; this was probably hard for her too. And she and Clint and Sam cared about Steve. I was just being a bitch.

“And yes– he’s fully in the wind, and SHIELD is focusing on keeping track of any other rogue Hydra units looking to find him, rather than on capturing the Soldier himself,” Natasha said, walking around to the end of Steve’s bed.

That, oddly, got Steve’s full attention. “Really?” he asked warily. Skeptically.

Natasha nodded. “Fury deemed it a better use of resources,” she said, a bit dry. “As long as he doesn’t fall into Hydra’s hands, he is less of a threat to us.”

Less of a threat? Steve’s jaw tightened, and I braced for a fight, but he was silent, took a few deep breaths, and then…he said, “Thank you,” and settled back against his pillow.

An argument felt like it was still in the air, but Natasha inclined her head, and neither of them mentioned it. Nobody mentioned anything, actually, and I tried not to be a jerk– they were his friends, they were allowed to visit him too– but…

I looked around. Clint looked pretty hale and healthy, but Natasha was worn to a wire’s edge and Sam had bandages of his own and looked exhausted. I almost wanted to ask if he was all right but what if he got those from Bucky? I didn’t want to step on anything. But I did want a chance to visit with Steve alone. And I kept looking from Natasha to Sam, trying to find a polite way to ask if maybe they needed some sleep…

Natasha’s lips curled in a wry smile when I looked back at her for maybe the hundredth time. I curled in on myself, considered never looking her in the eyes ever, ever again, then thought, ‘fuck it,’ sighed, and looked her head on.

Her smile softened, and she stretched, bringing just enough noise to the utterly silent room with her movement. “As fun as it is to watch you try not to crack another rib, I’m exhausted, and you need to sleep too.”

“Yeah, don’t want your battle-axe of a nurse to see you up too late,” Clint said and came to stand next to Sam. I focused on Steve as they all shuffled out and when the door clicked shut…well, there was no magic shift. No special acknowledgement. Just more stifling silence and a growing pit of dread forming like a black hole in the center of me.

I sighed and took his hand again. I touched gently, moving over bumps and ridges before leaning in to kiss his bandaged knuckles. He gasped and when he looked at me, weariness set in on his face, making him look so much older. After all that time setting himself up like a gargoyle, sorrow arrived relatively quickly.

I sat closer and angled so I could hold him. He moved too quickly, but leaned in to hug me. He rested his face in my shoulder and took big, heaving breaths.

“Seventy years,” he croaked. “He’s been tortured and used while I slept, and assimilated, and–”

He broke, and I felt like a flimsy plastic pole trying to weather a hurricane. There was nothing I could say, or do, and neither could he. But I stayed, and held tight.

He cried himself to sleep and I set him back in bed as well as I could. I wiped down his face, straightened his hair, and gave him a kiss before I left, stumbling a bit as my legs refused to work at first.

Sam was waiting for me when I came out. I didn’t know what to say, so I gave him a little wave and walked. He fell in step beside me and stayed quiet until we got to the elevator.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as we waited for it.

“Like a…” I mimicked wringing out a dishrag and he gave me a little smile. “How are you?” I asked and tried to gauge his injuries, but I could barely focus on anything.

“I’m fine. Really,” he said firmly, and patted his bandages. “A few burns, some bad aches, but I got the good pain meds so the worst is actually the jet lag. I’ll be fine once I get some sleep.”

I nodded. For some reason I could only stare at the floor. “You should; you–…you…should…”

Sam said my name. I blinked rapidly. “Sorry,” I said. The elevator was small. And quiet. I felt my face start to twist and I contorted it even more, as I looked down and away, trying so hard not to break into tears. But they were coming. They were still coming.

Sam said my name again and wrapped his arms around me. “It’s gonna be okay,” he said. “And I’m not just saying that. Steve’s gonna pull through.” I could hear his sigh, quiet as it was, as I shook from the effort of trying to swallow all of my feelings without choking on them. The elevator dinged loudly enough to make us both jump, and I kept my head down and let Sam lead the way. Breathe, breathe, breathe, I just wanted to fucking breathe and not have a nervous breakdown in Spy Headquarters.

When we were in a corner off to the side, I managed to pull myself together just enough to ask, “Do you think…Bucky’s okay?”

Sam didn’t respond. Not right away. “I think fully answering that is way above my pay grade,” he said gently. He paused again. “Do you want him to be?”

“God I hope he is,” I said. I held my face. “It’d be so much better for Steve if he is.”

Sam shifted. “Even though it might mean…”

“He deserves to be happy,” I said without thinking. True, though. “Whatever form that takes, I just want him happy, and safe; I–…I–…” My eyes burned. ‘I love him so fucking much’ I wanted to say, but couldn’t, because that was the end of my ability to cope with this rollercoaster of a fucking day and I started crying into his chest. Sam was good, too good, and held me for all of the hyperventilating waterworks, even though it couldn’t have been comfortable, even without the times I caught myself pushing my face too hard into his body. Thankfully the break didn’t last too long, and as soon as it tapered off I unpeeled myself from his person.

“Sorry.” I rubbed my face hard and took a deep breath.

“It’s fine,” Sam said. “You know I’m your friend too, right?”

I continued to rub my face raw of any trace of tears. I hated crying in front of people, and I had to consciously stop myself from thinking of all the surveillance that probably happened in every part of this fucking building. “It doesn’t even directly affect me. I don’t know why I’m being like this.”

“It’s tougher, sometimes, when it’s people we care about.” Sam squeezed my arm. “It’s going to be tough, even just being there for Steve right now.”

I swallowed one more time and, despite still feeling rough, I felt…better. Less on a knife’s edge, at least. “Doesn’t matter. I’m here, and…we’ll deal.”

Someone walked up behind Sam and he stiffened, and used his arm to move me closer to the wall and more firmly behind him as he turned. “Hey Phil,” he said, not exactly warm, but polite enough. “You need something?”

Phil said my name. “I just need a moment of your time before we take you home.”

I rolled my shoulders and looked around. Luckily, I had a good excuse not to face him yet. “Yeah, just give me a minute. I’m gonna hit the bathroom first.”

“Take all the time you need,” Phil said, and left. Or so I assumed; I didn’t really hear him go but Sam sighed and turned to face me again.

“You want me to stick around for that meeting?” he asked.

I gave him another look over. Maybe he wasn’t hurt that bad, but he looked exhausted. I shook my head. “It’ll be fine,” I said, and kept the, ‘I hope,’ completely to myself. “You go get in bed and sleep.”

His lips curled up. “Yes ma’am,” he said, and leaned back in for another hug. A really tight hug. When he stood fully again he said, “Hey,” and clapped his hand on my shoulder. “Call or text, any time. I’m here.”

I nodded. When it came to Steve, I probably wouldn’t hesitate. I’d just have to find some cute pictures and dumb memes to pepper in to make it worth it. “You staying at the Tower?”

“Yeah.” He actually managed to forge a decent smile. “As much as I’d love to come vet your couch, the apartments Tony’s set up for us ain't half bad.”

I scoffed. “Can’t believe you’d pass up my couch for a bed that probably costs more than I pay in rent. No accounting for taste.”

“It definitely isn’t better company.”

“I don’t think that’s true right now.”

“Well, that’s going around,” he said gently.

After one more hug, I managed to shoo him off, and I ducked into the bathroom to wash my face at least. I definitely looked ragged in the mirror but the cold water felt nice. Unfortunately, I wasn’t alone for too long, but when I glanced at who entered, I was definitely surprised. Perhaps foolishly so.

“Oh. Hi Sharon,” I said, and dabbed the paper towels at my face. She greeted me but she didn’t go for a stall, nor did she use a sink. She just leaned against the back wall. I sighed. ‘Foolish’ for sure. “You need something?”

“I’m going with you to the meeting,” she said. My stomach clenched with dread, but I just wanted to be done with all of this and back home. Well, I’d rather have stayed with Steve, but barring that, home was the next best thing, and Phil was too creepily good at his job. Even if I managed to duck out, he could probably materialize from my mirror and I wouldn’t think twice about it. Better to get this over and done.

I followed Sharon just down the hall, and when we entered the room it was occupied by Phil, Fury, and four SHIELD agents– including the brunette guy from the first time I’d ever tried to visit Steve in the hospital. That brought me up short and I wondered if I’d accidentally wandered into a different meeting, but Sharon gently nudged me further in so she could slip inside and shut the door behind us.

“Uh…” It was quiet. And awkward. “Hi?”

Phil said my name in greeting. “We’ll keep this short, since I’m sure you’d like to get home,” he said. “To start– everyone in this room is aware of the true nature of your relationship with Captain Rogers.”

I hadn’t known I could still emote, but my eyebrows went all the way up when I looked at him. “Why?” I asked warily.

Fury shifted, and all attention turned to him– even though I couldn’t even tell how he had moved. “Despite Captain Rogers’s feelings on the matter, the Winter Soldier is a dangerous and deadly assassin. Given their past relationship, and your current relationship, we are going to be giving you a security detail,” he said. Like that explained everything.

My immediate ‘that’s stupid,’ was, thankfully, something that didn’t come out of my mouth. Maybe out of my eyes, but at least I didn’t say it. Granted, Steve was in terrible shape so, yes, Bucky was objectively dangerous, but…he had run away from them. And why waste his time coming after me when Steve was, ostensibly, the one he had major Feelings about, and lived in the same damn city?

“Does he even know we’re dating?” I asked. “I shouldn’t matter any more than Steve’s other friends.”

“We’ve found out that he has…observed the two of you on at least two occasions,” Phil said. “We don’t know exactly what he saw, but he was one of the best assassins alive, under Hydra’s control, and he might be even better now.”

Creepy. I tried not to think too hard about it. “If that’s the case, he’s been free for years now. If Mister Super-Duper-Assassin wanted to take me out, it’s not like he couldn’t have done so already.”

“Except now we don’t know where he is or what his state of mind is after the weeks he just spent under re-conditioning,” Fury said. “There are a lot of factors going into this. We have discussed all the angles. A minor security detail is necessary.”

These people looked very serious and very capable, so ‘minor’ didn’t feel quite right. However, I was just done. With everything. “Ugh,” I said and rubbed my face. “I think it’s really stupid and a waste of your resources, but I’m too tired to argue about it.”

“Good enough,” Fury remarked dryly. I rolled my eyes, but let him and Phil blather on to the agents about shifts and details, and just…zoned out. Until someone tugged at my jacket sleeve and I turned to see Sharon right there again. She jerked her head at the door and I followed along, letting the rest of them continue to do…whatever.

I regained enough conscious thought to wonder if this was awkward. Sharon wasn’t immediately connected to it, but she was friends with Steve, and Peggy…god, I almost didn’t want to think about it. But my head kept circling back to it.

“How are you?” she asked, kindly, once we were on the road. This time it was just me and her in the car. Was she part of this new detail? From the way Steve talked about her that seemed almost demeaning, and I kind of didn’t want to ask in case it was.

“I’m, um, fine. Fine enough. It must be weirder and harder for you, with SHIELD and…” I swallowed. “How’s Peggy?”

Sharon was silent for a little bit. I was just about to get in my head about how maybe that wasn’t an appropriate thing to ask– Sharon and I were friendly but we weren’t friends– but she actually admitted, “We haven't told her yet.” She focused on the road. “I haven't told her yet. It has to be in person, but I still…”

The way she trailed off sounded…uncertain. And I could relate. She didn’t have much more stake in this than I did– we both had Steve, but I while had the ‘new girlfriend dealing with old boyfriend’ issues, she had the ‘SHIELD agents versus former Hydra assassin’ issues, and I…started to wonder. I started to wonder if maybe she shouldn’t be the one to say it. If maybe…

“Can you wait, and let Steve do it?” I asked. She actually looked at me, long enough that the light turned and someone honked. She got back to driving, but she kept glancing at me. I swallowed. “It’s not my business,” I said, because it really, really wasn’t, “–…but it’s going to be hard to hear and…maybe it would be…maybe it’s better. If she hears it from the one other person who knew– who knows Bucky.”

She drove in silence for a few more minutes. Then she asked, “Does he really believe Barnes is still there?”

I shrugged one shoulder. “What’s more believable– that the Winter Soldier did a sudden inexplicable heel turn against masters he was violently conditioned to obey?” I asked. “Or that Steve got through to him based on years of ingrained trust?”

She let out a short but heavy sigh. “Most of it feels pretty inexplicable,” she said. “But Romanoff and Wilson said the same thing about this last time. That Rogers got through to him.”

“I think he did,” I said quietly, and we both left it at that. When she pulled down my street I took a moment to make sure all my limbs worked and were going to support me properly.

“Hey.”

I looked at her. “Don’t worry about the detail,” she said. “We can make ourselves noticeable if the occasion calls for it, but we can also be pretty inconspicuous too.” Sharon gave me a small smile. “I lived as Steve’s neighbor for months without him having any idea until I revealed myself.”

“Impressive,” I said. Steve wasn’t spy material, but I’d always thought he was good at sussing out when people were watching him. “Also kind of creepy.”

“That’s the job,” she said, as if stating an unfortunate but also true fact, and, well, she was right. She stopped in front of my building. “I mean it, don’t worry; if anything does happen the agent on duty will make themself known and escort you to safety. But we’re all hoping this is going to be a fairly boring assignment.”

I couldn’t argue with that. I still thought it was stupid to waste their time on it though, and once I got my head on straight, I’d be telling them that. Telling Phil that at least. Fury wasn’t mean, per se, but he was still intimidating as all hell. “Thanks for the ride.”

She nodded. “Tell Steve to get in touch, if he doesn’t want to break the news,” she said, a little quieter. “I’ll take care of it.”

I wasn’t sure when I’d see Steve again– if he’d come over willingly, or if I’d have to track him down. But I knew where he lived; I wouldn’t let him run away. Not from me. I nodded, got out, waved goodbye…

…And the next thing I knew I was zoned out at my door, keys in hand, when I suddenly heard someone’s door opening down the hall. I cursed at myself– seriously, so many possible assassinations could have happened it was stupid– but I fumbled with my lock, got inside, and leaned my back against the door.

From there it was a slow descent to getting my apartment ready for the night. The day was over, and tomorrow was Monday, and I was so tired I wasn’t sure if I should prepare to call out or just go and be miserable and deal with it. If I was going to be miserable anyways, it was better to at least get a paycheck for it.

And, when a knock at my door made me jump to a straight-up sitting position on the couch, I wondered if I wouldn’t feel so nervous if I wasn’t so…alone. Which was stupid, because even if pigs did fly and Bucky did come after me because his head was so fucked up, wouldn’t it be better if there was no one else around?

I sighed and went to check the door.

Natasha stood there. She then immediately looked right at me. Or rather, right at the peephole.

I unlocked the door and opened it. “That’s such a horror movie thing to do,” I said.

She shrugged, and a plastic bag in her hands crinkled with the movement. “Depending on what side you’re on, I make a hell of a slasher,” she said, like she was trying to make a joke, but it came out a little…flat. She held up the bag. “I brought you dinner.”

“Oh, nice,” I said and stepped back. She didn’t take the implied invitation, so I waved at her to come in. After only a second, she did, and I shut and locked the door. “They’re not making you do this stupid ‘detail’ thing, are they?”

“No. I’ve been deemed ‘too close’ to the issue,” she said. “But I also don’t think it’s stupid.”

I chose not to follow that, just in case it led to an argument. She kept glancing around, like Bucky might jump out of a closet, so maybe she had been watching one too many horror movies. “What’d you get?” I asked. “That’s a big bag. You’re staying to eat too, right?”

She visibly hesitated. “I was going to,” she said. Her tone was still fairly flat, and I wondered if this was how she got when she was tired. “But maybe I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” I said.

She gave me a look like she knew I knew something was off. “I’m not capable of being very ‘normal’ right now.”

I snorted. “Join the club.” I walked up to her and took the bag, setting it on the counter right behind her. “Normal’s bullshit anyways. Let’s eat.”

She watched me unpack the food, but when I got the plates, she took one and loaded it up, and joined me on the couch. She was muted in a way that I worried I might have pushed her into something, but if there was anybody I didn’t think I could force into shit, it was Natasha, so I took her as she was, and let it be. Mostly. The air seemed to get heavier by the passing moment, with the two of us moodily chowing down on food that was too good for this amount of personal dark clouds, so I took a chance, and stabbed at a particularly good-looking bite on her plate.

I probably should not have done so while she was holding a fork. I almost had it when she struck, poking me so hard with her utensil that I jumped and took my hand back, but the pain was quickly gone, and there wasn’t even any blood. The look she gave me, both eyebrows raised, made me laugh. “I can’t believe you actually let me get that close,” I said and shook out my hand.

“I could hardly believe you were trying it,” she said. She sighed and looked away, as if frustrated. “I told you I wasn’t normal tonight.”

“It’s still fine. I didn’t actually piss you off, did I?” I asked. She shook her head. “Then, no harm, no foul.”

“Hm.” But she only poked at her food. It was almost a minute before she spoke again. “This is all–…it’s not exactly the same, but it’s…hitting similar buttons.”

I considered. “What happened with Bucky?”

She gave a curt nod. “This last time especially. Most of what they did to him before used methods they could only employ against someone with the serum. Anyone else would have been dead,” she said. “But this most recent, with the drugs and the…‘manual’ brainwashing…that was familiar.”

I didn’t know what to say. I leaned against her for a brief moment. “People fucking suck,” is what I decided on, and I sat up and scraped my plate.

She didn’t move right away. But then she let out a little huff. “Yeah. Sometimes,” she said, but she started eating again too. When she finished she put her empty plate next to mine and sat like she was…waiting for something. Sam was exhausted, and I assumed she must have been too, but she was way too wired. And maybe sleep was a worse idea than just dealing with reality.

Or…

“Hey,” I said. She looked at me. “Have you ever played a farming sim?”

She blinked several times. And stared. “Huh,” I said. “I’ve never gotten a look that good before. I’d ask if I was suddenly speaking Russian, but–”

She hit me with a throw pillow so hard my shoulder hurt. “That’s not even an expression,” she said and flumped back on it. “Also– no. I haven't. Shocking, I’m sure.”

“Do you want to?” I picked up my controller regardless of what the answer was and started flipping through my library. “You can make a stupid looking avatar, and go on dates.”

“I thought you said it was about farming,” she said, watching as I scrolled through. “Oh god– are all of those about farming?”

“Da. The curse of capitalist pigs trying to–” She hit me with the pillow again. “–Ow how do you do that?” I asked, dropping the fake Russian accent and stopping to rub my aching arm. “I bet you could give somebody a Charlie horse with a fucking blanket.”

“That’s too easy. But I’ll show you if you do the accent again,” she said, back to resting on her Murder Pillow.

“Yeah, yeah.” I picked a game, flicked through the initial menu, and handed her the controller. “Make a stupid avatar and get fishing.”

“I thought I was farming,” she said, but she started flipping through hairstyles.

“You can plant crops, smooch pixels that look vaguely humanoid, and make fish fear you,” I said. “Oh– those overalls are awful.”

“Perfect,” she said, and settled in. Nothing was right, none of us were okay, but we could only do so much, and for the moment all of us were, at least, safe. I could only hope Bucky currently had that guarantee too– for all our sakes.

Basic background info for this chapter in case of confusion: “Captain America: The Winter Soldier” movie happened mostly as-is, up until the unmasking. The mask didn’t come off, but Steve accidentally broke through the programming, allowing Bucky to regain just enough sense of self to break from Hydra. Bucky did come back at the end to help against the Helicarriers, but after saving Steve from his fall into the Potomac, he left without a word. “The Winter Soldier” has been in the wind ever since, fighting against Hydra, and destroying/taking anything that might hint to his true identity.

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#steve rogers x reader #captain america fanfic #avengers fanfic #captain america reader insert #avengers reader insert #dinner date

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supraveng · 1 year

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Princess of Asgardia

Summary: You are Thor & Loki’s younger sister, unfortunately you are forced to find a husband...royalty AU

Warnings: language

Pairings: Reader x James Bucky Barnes, Reader x Clint Barton, Reader x John Walker

Square Filled: Unrequited Love

Word Count: 6237 Main Masterlist

A/N: @avengersbingo my first and long over due entry to Avengers Bingo Rd 4

Sneaking out was always easier than sneaking back in, you tried your best to make it home before sunrise and today you almost made it. Of course, luck wasn’t on your side and you knew the staff would be around so you had to decide whether to trek back through the hidden passageways or tiptoe through the main rooms of the castle without being found out. At this time of day, neither was a great choice, but you quietly took off your shoes as you slipped through the main entrance to the palace and held your head high, as a princess should, as you passed the guards.

No one said a word to you, most likely knowing that tattling on the princess of Asgardia at this time of day would only become more of an issue for them, putting Odin or Frigga in a bad mood first thing in the morning would be no good for anyone. You began to relax, turning down the final hallway to your room, only to be greeted by your mother and your personal security, Brunnhilde, waiting for you.

“Mother, what a pleasant surprise first thing in the morning” you were trying your best to avoid any questioning on your whereabouts.

“Well, my dear, I wouldn’t be here if you were here when I came to you last night” she raised an eyebrow challenging me “and before you start formulating some plot in your head, I also asked the guards to notify me of your return. And yet all night, not a single person in the palace knew where you were.”

You knew you were caught, she knew you were caught and yet, you couldn’t find it in your heart to concede, “well then, it seems that I am once again the Hide & Seek victor.” Turning and entering your room, knowing the conversation wasn’t over, but you were too tired to argue with anyone right now.

“Before you even think about sleeping, Nebula will be here momentarily to prepare your bath, and I expect you to look presentable for breakfast with your father” you looked at your mother stunned, it’s as if she could read your mind.

“Why would father want to have breakfast with me when he has your beautiful face to admire?” Unfortunately that didn’t work as you had hoped, your mother just laughed as she walked out of the room with Brunnhilde, reminding you that your flattery will get you nowhere.

You took your time getting ready before heading to breakfast with your family, normally you wouldn't want to disappoint your parents but you had been up all night and there was little you could do to make yourself move any faster. Somehow you managed to make it to the dining hall just before your father, so you take that as a win, even if you hadn’t been able to sit before rising to greet him.

“Well, isn’t it nice to have the whole family together, it’s been so long” Odin looked around the table and seemed happy to have you all gathered together. You were immediately suspicious and looked to your brothers, trying to figure out what was going on.

Loki appeared to be as concerned as you were, but Thor seemed to have his normal idiot smile on his face and seemed more interested in the food being served than anyone at the table, typical. Rolling your eyes, you immediately grabbed your coffee mug, needing caffeine to make it through the morning in one piece.

“Since we are all here, why don’t you tell our children about the exciting news” your mother smiled around the table before picking up her tea. Loki immediately looked at you, you both knew something was going on and not liking it one bit.

“Right, of course my dear. We are hosting a gala, inviting all the surrounding kingdoms. Oh and my darling daughter, you will have a new security detail, he will be starting this afternoon after he is finished with Quill. And I know I don't need to remind you to be on your best behavior” your father eyed you with a small smirk, knowing that a suggestion to behave was pointless for him to make but decided to do so anyway.

You were doing your best to hide your emotions that were triggered by his statement, but watching Loki smirk in your direction while he ate only angered you more. “Thank you father, but Brunnhilde is excellent and I’ve grown quite fond of her. So, really, there’s no need for someone new” you smiled at your parents, holding your breath that your attempt would work, and hearing Loki snicker at you didn’t help your nerves.

“Be that as it may, the Valkyrie have important training and she is needed there. Don’t worry, it’s already done, you will be well taken care of and not cause any problems" with that, your father rose from his seat, all of you following suit and heading out of the dining hall.

You needed a few hours of sleep before worrying about your new security detail and how to get out of the palace by yourself. After your nap you decided a ride on your horse, Chocolate, was the best way to enjoy the day, so you were dressed and heading to the stables. Riding around the back pasture behind the palace was not your ideal choice, but if your parents found out you were out again without security, you wouldn’t hear the end of it.

The ride helped to clear your head a little, maybe a change in your security detail wouldn’t be so bad, you adored Brunnhilde, but would much rather have her as a friend to celebrate with rather than a watchdog, always on duty, never having fun. Taking your time to make it back to the palace, you notice your brother approaching and roll your eyes as you try to walk past.

“First day with new security and you decide to hide, tsk tsk sister”.

Rolling your eyes at him trying to irritate you more than you already were, “really Lokes, you of all people should be helping me here, not making matters worse!” You were toe to toe with him, and even if he still was several inches taller than you, you weren’t intimidated by him in the least.

He merrily scoffed at you “how am I making anything worse? I’m simply pointing out the error of your ways, I’m trying to help, unlike Thor” the last part muttered under his breath and made you freeze.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, you’ll see soon enough” and just like that he had disappeared as quickly as he had arrived.

You were debating if you should take the time to bathe Chocolate yourself or allow someone at the stables to handle it, now that you heard Thor was being himself more than usual, you didn’t have a choice and left the stables to investigate on what could have happened in the few hours you were away.

Making your way back into the palace, you headed for the kitchen first, just a small snack needed to tide you over until dinner. The staff was never surprised by your arrival, even if they did feel the need to bow, you always felt more like one of them than your royal lineage. Maybe that’s why all these changes were making you irritated, you knew what was expected of you, but you still hoped that your requests would be considered, marrying for love rather than obligation or convenience, it shouldn’t be too hard to ask for.

Heading back toward the throne room, you were stopped by Peter Quill, your father’s personal secretary. “Your Highness, I’ve been searching everywhere for you. You have a new security detail that you need to meet. Will you please follow me?”.

Deciding to get this encounter out of the way as quickly as possible you followed Peter to the throne room where you found your parents chatting with a rather handsome man.

"Ah, there she is, come daughter, you need to get acquainted with your new security detail. And remember, you are to be by her side at all times'' your father stated as you approached.

"This is Clint Barton, he will be your personal security going forward" Peter tells you as you smile at the new face.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Sir Barton, and father don't scare the man, he didn't mean at all times, just outside of the palace" you smile trying to make the encounter a bit more lighthearted.

"I know what I meant child, until you can prove that you won't be sneaking out unaccompanied at all hours of the day, then Clint will be with you at all times" his tone left no room for argument, but you were about to try and plead your case only for Peter to whisk the king away for something or other, you weren't really listening.

Sighing, you tried to give a genuine smile but felt too embarrassed to put any effort into it. Before you could decide what to do next you heard Thor's booming voice from the doorway, "and there is my beautiful sister, we've been searching for you".

As he approached, you noticed a man trailing behind him, he wasn't as tall as Thor but had the same arrogant demeanor about him and you could only hope he had nothing to do with what Loki had mentioned.

"This is my dear friend, John Walker" Thor patted the man on his shoulder as he pushed him closer to you.

"It's actually Duke John Walker" he immediately corrected but pretended to be humble to the title.

You were instantly irritated and wanted to run and hide but instead you smiled politely "Sir Walker".

At this point, the nicest thing you could do was to simply acknowledge the man, since it's not his fault your idiot brother dragged him around looking for you.

"Why don't the two of you go to the sitting room and I'll have the staff bring you tea" at that point you might actually ring Thor's neck if he opened his mouth again.

"Wonderful idea, Princess, shall we?" John held out his arm and you thought the day couldn't get any worse until you remembered your new, and very attractive, security that began to follow behind you towards John.

Instead of saying anything, you took his arm and lead him out of the room and down the hall. He immediately started commenting on the decor and how it differed from his estate, was this guy serious? But of course you could only smile, knowing speaking your mind would only cause a problem for you.

As you turned to the sitting room, John finally noticed Clint following the two of you and spoke up. "Thanks for the escort, but the princess and I will be spending tea alone" his arrogant and entitled tone rubbed you the wrong way but you were curious as to how Clint would react.

"As her personal security, she will not leave my sight" Clint told him as he made his way to the corner of the room with no intention of leaving. Realizing this could very quickly escalate into something ugly, you decided to intervene

"Sir Barton is very dedicated to his craft, so why do we sit and chat, I doubt we will even notice his presence" you motioned to the sofas and chairs in the center of the room.

Opting for a chair in order to leave as much space as possible between you and your brothers friend, you sat and waited for him to choose his seat.

"Of course, anything for you princess" he smiled at you and it nearly made you ill. You were raised to know exactly what to expect from people and what they expected from you, but moments like this, you had hoped you could just freely speak your mind and put entitled diplomats in their place.

John immediately got comfortable on the sofa next to you and began telling you all about himself. What a surprise. He drones on for what felt like hours. You were only slightly relieved when Anya arrived with a tray of tea and cakes.

"Thank you, it looks wonderful. Can we get another serving set for Sir Barton?" you motioned to Clint in the the corner as Anya nodded before slipping out of the room.

Stirring your tea you heard John scoff and looked at him questioningly. "Is something amiss?" trying your best to remain calm, you could guess what caused his reaction by the few minutes you had been around him so far today.

"Why are you thanking one servant and offering tea to the other?" You nearly laughed at his utter disrespect to another human solely for the reason he had a title and they didn't.

"Well, first of all, they are staff not servants and secondly, they are human beings. Everyone deserves kindness". You are looking at Clint when you make the final statement and see the slightest hint of a smile.

"Oh princess, how naïve you are" John chuckles and you immediately tense up as you watch him mock you.

At this point the smart thing to do would be to stay quiet and remove yourself before you threw a punch, but today was not that day. Glaring at the Duke, you decide to unpack everything on him, why the hell not?

"Tell me Duke, do you know my name?" That instantly caused him to quiet down before scoffing,

"of course I do".

"Just wondering, since you haven't used it since we met. It seems that you only have used my title" taking a bite of the cake on your plate, anxiously awaiting his response.

He didn't respond right away, presumably trying to recall your name but apparently came up blank. "Your position is power, princess. I acknowledge and respect that about you" he seems smug, as if he had just given you a compliment. Was he expecting you to thank him, boy was he going to be disappointed.

"My position seems to be more important to you than it is to me" you knew challenging him wasn't the best idea but you were hoping for him to get frustrated and storm out. "So tell me John, what is my name? Just wondering if you actually remembered it".

He looked shocked and you decided to push him further, you just wanted to get him to leave.

"Do you usually have trouble remembering names? What's the name of your mistress?" this time you waited for him to respond while sipping your tea.

"I beg your pardon? What sort of question is that?".

"Which one? You haven't answered a single one of my inquiries". Holding his eye contact was not nearly as difficult as you thought it might be.

"Why would you ask if I have a mistress?"

You shake your head "I asked her name, or do you frequent brothels?"

At this point he was turning red and completely flustered. "I have never been so insulted in all my days. Please give Thor my regards" as he stood, gave a pathetic excuse of a bow and stormed out of the room.

Humming happily you continued drinking your tea before turning to Clint, "you are welcome to sit and finish your tea. The chamomile tastes nice with the lavender shortbread"

Clint simply nodded before sitting in the middle of the sofa, rather than closest to you as John had. You weren't sure if striking up a conversation with him was the best approach but we're relieved by Anya returning to check on the tea.

She smirked at you the moment she entered the room, "scared him away did you, your highness?" Anya had been like an aunt to you since you could remember and knew you better than most,

"it seems I have, he was much more fragile than I expected. The tea is wonderful as always, it's a shame he missed the opportunity to enjoy it properly" you did your best to remain calm but a giggle escaped and Anya simply rolled her eyes.

Turning to Clint she whispered, making sure to be loud enough for you to hear "was she awful or did he deserve it?"

You held your breath, not sure how Clint had taken your encounter with John, you had yet to have a conversation with him and wasn’t sure what to expect.

“Walker's disrespect shouldn’t have allowed him into the palace, let alone a private meeting with Princess Y/N”

Relief came over you by his response, not only did he agree with Walker's attitude, but he used her given name. Wondering if it was just his nature or if he was actually agreeing with your reaction to Walker’s behavior, you weren’t sure, but you felt at ease with your new security, more than you had anticipated was possible in such a short amount of time.

“Well, I am going to try and get a nap in before dinner, thank you for everything Anya” smiling, you turned toward Clint. “Please feel free to stay and finish, I can assure you, I will be in my quarters until dinner”

He stood almost immediately, making you believe he didn’t trust you at all, until he spoke “I’d like to make sure you make it safely, seeing as Walker may be lurking about” then he opened the door for you with a smile.

Making your way back to your room seemed to take longer than usual but maybe because you were enjoying Clint’s company. He didn’t say much, and neither did you, but the quiet between you was comfortable and you decided that maybe the new security detail was a better idea than you had initially thought.

Once you were well rested, you dressed for dinner and were surprised to find that Clint was just outside your door when you opened it. The sight immediately put a smile on your face and he offered his arm to escort you to the dining room.

“I hope you weren’t waiting here all this time, that must have been quite boring” He simply smiled,

“I will do whatever is needed to keep you safe”. The simple comment made your heart skip a beat. You had never met someone so genuinely kind and handsome at the same time. Reaching the dining hall seemed to happen faster than you wished, but you entered the room, seeing you were the first to arrive, you wanted to prolong your time alone with Clint.

“So tell me, is you being assigned to me a punishment for improper behavior?” you smirked. Clint merely chuckled under his breath, and made his way to stand at his post during the meal, as you made your way to the table and immediately enjoyed your first glass of wine with a smile on your face.

Dinner nearly passed as any other until your father asked about your visitor.

“Oh yes, my dear friend John, how did that go? Will you be seeing him again?” Thor responded with a large grin on his face.

You simply stared at your brother, curious as to how he could lead an army into battle, and yet not see the true nature of the people he was closest to.

“The visit was fine, father. And no Thor, I won’t be seeing him. I would appreciate it if you kept your mind on your strengths on the battlefield and not match making. Your dear friend John, is nothing more than a title chasing misogynist, and I only hope his blatant depravity does not corrupt you as well” trying your best to seem unbiased while leaving no room to question your distrust of the man you were forced to have tea with against your will.

The gasp your mother had made gave you the relief you needed in that moment. Her simple expression of shock let you know that John Walker would not be welcomed back.

Thor on the other hand seemed confused, “did you not find him handsome?” Looking at Loki for some clarity as to what that had to do with the situation only made you ask for more wine in order to endure the rest of the meal.

Thankfully your mother and father took over the conversation with Thor and what sort of man you should be introduced to, allowing you to somewhat enjoy your meal. Not really paying attention to much of the rest of the conversation, you waited as patiently as you could for the dinner to end.

Once your father rose from the table, you were dismissed and made your way to the back gardens, with Clint’s accompaniment of course. Knowing you were to find your future spouse in the next few weeks was the only thing consuming your mind. If all of your suitor options were as dreadful as John Walker, you were certain to rather die a spinster than commit to anyone.

The following days were filled with your mother fussing over the details of the gala, the invitations and food preparations as well as you needing a gown. Thankfully, Clint was a better companion than you had anticipated and helped make the dreadful tasks so much better. Small talk came easily and you felt as though your life had been missing Clint this whole time and was now, finally, how things should be.

The night of the ball was no different, Clint by your side, making you feel secure and protected from anything and everything around you. Once your entrance was announced, something you utterly detested, you slowly made you way around greeting guests.

When you spotted John Walker, you took a deep breath before heading in his direction, Clint immediately stopped you. Without saying a word, but giving a pointed look, it was as if you were reading each other's minds.

Raising your head high you turned and were immediately approached by Lord Barnes, bringing a smile to your face.

"Princess Y/N, would you do me the honor of a dance" his smile nearly took your breath away.

"Of course, James, it would be my pleasure". You had always found Lord James Barnes handsome, a blind person would, but he was also the kindest and strongest man from the neighboring country of Brooklyn.

Dancing with James was wonderful, for such a large man, he was rather graceful on the dance floor. However, you knew a marriage between the two of you would never happen, as he was very much in love with Prince Steven. And against your better judgment you inquired on how the two were doing.

“Well, Steve is courting Duchess Margaret” James advised with a strain in his tone.

“Oh James, I had no idea, I’m incredibly regretful for mentioning him” you attempted to show your empathy, but you really had no idea what he was going through.

“Nonsense, I knew he would need to find a queen in order to take his rightful place on the throne. That is why I am here, I too am in need of a lady to carry on the Barnes lineage” James kissed your knuckles and bowed as the song ended.

Initially you were shocked by his comment, but you supposed that there were certain expectations that no one could avoid. Surprisingly, the remainder of the ball was enjoyable, you danced most of the evening. Meeting new people was a normal part of the monarchy, and although most seemed nice enough, no one captured your attention enough to allow yourself to be courted.

The next several weeks were more of the same, entertaining gentlemen from all of the surrounding kingdoms, making their intentions known to almost everyone they came across. As flattering as it was, there was not a single one you felt any sort of connection to, luckily, during this time you also had Clint to keep you company.

The two of you spent as much time outside of the castle as possible, riding horses and he occasionally provided you with lessons on archery, as it was his specialty. All too soon you were back in another family dinner centered around your possible suitors and who they would allow to court you properly.

“With all due respect father, I believe I should be the one to determine whom I allow to court me. It is, after all, my future we are discussing, my opinion should be the determining factor” smiling as best you could while trying your best to remain civil.

“Of course, we understand that, don’t we dear” your mother quickly spoke up before your father could make the situation so much worse. Odin sighed heavily, thoroughly exhausted with the situation still taking place, and did nothing to hide it.

“My dear, your future and happiness are the most important, however, I feel you may be quick to judge and I don’t want you to miss out your best option solely for the fact you think someone better might come along” your father immediately looks at your mother for confirmation on his statement, and you did not miss the small nod of approval she provided.

“Thank you father, and I promise to make a wise choice for myself and the good of the family” you responded, trying your best to appease him “however long that may take”. You smiled as politely as possible, you had no intent of choosing someone just to get it over with.

That evening your mother came to your chambers to assure you that your father only wanted what was best for you.

“My dear, remember that love, although incredibly important to a successful marriage, may not be there from the very start” the queen smiled as if that made any sense to you at all.

“How am I to marry for love if there isn’t love there?” you questioned immediately.

“Well my lovely daughter, a friendship built on trust and respect can turn into love, eventually. Look at your father and I, our marriage was arranged by our parents. We built a friendship first, it wasn’t until just before you were conceived that we truly fell in love with one another” she spoke with a smile on her face of the fondness of the marriage she had endured for all these years.

You were shocked to learn that their love story didn’t begin until after both Thor and Loki were born. When you were about to question the secrets she just revealed, she stopped you immediately.

“I know what you are thinking, my duty as queen came before all else. Our marriage was an agreement, and bringing heirs to the throne were our first priorities for the kingdom. During that time, your father showed me the man he truly was, through his respect and devotion to me and our children. Along the way, we both fell in love, and love produced you. My life has produced more happiness than I could have ever asked for, and only with your father by my side.” she kissed your head before leaving you for the night.

Presumably to sleep, but after that revelation, you were sure if you could possibly close your eyes without your brain running in every direction.

The next morning was much the same as every other day, except your mind kept reminding you, trust & respect, trust & respect. Knowing you wouldn’t be good company at the dining table, you had your meal brought to you in your room. Deciding the best way to get all the thoughts out of your head, you grabbed your journal and began to write.

By morning, you had a better idea of how to navigate your next steps with your options in courting. The day had progressed like any other, but you were definitely more astute to your interactions with Clint. You needed to know that the trust and respect was reciprocated before approaching him and your offer of marriage.

The more you spend time with him, you realized it had been much more than just trust or respect, you had begun looking forward to your time together, especially when it was only the two of you. By the end of the week, you had come to the realization that you were falling in love with Clint, and that excitement could barely be contained.

It was after a late dinner with the family, when Clint was escorting you to your chambers that you decided to address your feelings for him.

“Would you mind staying a moment, I have something I wanted to speak with you about” you motioned for Clint to follow you into the room.

He merely nodded and followed you, looking a little concerned when you began pacing the room. Taking a deep breath, you turned toward him and smiled, there was no reason to be nervous, you knew Clint and that he would be kind to you, no matter what.

“Since you’ve become my security, I’ve become rather fond of you,” you paused briefly to gauge his reaction, only to see the same stoic face you’ve grown to love.

Giggling to yourself you continue “you have become a dear friend with whom I trust and respect, but I’ve recently realized I am falling in love with you.” Seeing that his expression hadn’t changed, you decided to lay everything out to him in order to move things along as quickly as possible.

“This whole finding a proper suitor has been daunting, but it’s because I’ve been looking in the wrong place. You’ve been here, with me through all of it….and I know it’s not customary for a princess to make such a scandalous request, but I know, that if we married, we could both be very happy for the rest of our lives” you were smiling at Clint, waiting for him to break out the charming smile that he saves only for you, but his expression hadn’t changed while processing everything you had just divulged.

“Y/N….I can’t marry you” barely above a whisper, but you heard it loud and clear.

Rushing to him and grabbing his hands in yours, doing your best to reassure him “we can marry, my parents only want me happy, your status doesn’t matter”.

He looked deep in your eyes, giving you a small but sad smile, “it’s not that, I can’t marry you as I am already married”.

The anger at his blatant lie sprang up in you immediately, stepping away from him and dropping his hands as you crossed your arms over your chest. “You can just tell me the truth, you don’t need to lie to me” trying to sound strong but feeling completely defeated.

“I assure you, I wouldn’t lie to you, and especially not something this important. Laura and I have been married nearly 5 years now, and we are expecting our first child in a few months” he calmly explained but it only confused you.

“Clint, we have been friends for months, you have never once mentioned a wife or child on the way. You needn’t spare my feelings, you can just say that I’m not what you want, I can handle the truth.” Shaking your head you began pacing the room again.

“Y/N, it is true, I don’t discuss my personal life at work, but Laura expecting was what made me leave the active infantry and work in the castle.”

And that is when it hit you, this was a job for him. He didn’t even consider you a friend that he could confide in, you were just a job to him.

Your embarrassment was something you had never felt before, you couldn't even face him to ask him to leave your chambers. The only thing you could do was walk into your private bathroom, locking the door behind you, before attempting to draw your own bath.

The running water had hopefully drowned out the sound of your cries, once the sobbing had started, you weren’t sure you would be able to make it stop. You weren’t sure how long you sat there before the bathroom door was forced open and your mother came in, immediately pulling you into her arms while the maids completed getting the bath ready.

Once you had calmed down, your mother assisted you in getting in the bath and washing your hair. It had been so long since the two of you had quiet moments like this, and it was exactly what you needed while your heart was breaking. She never asked any questions, only took care of her youngest child as only a mother could, even cuddling with you in bed until you woke the next morning.

“My darling” she kissed your forehead as she stroked your back “you are the strongest woman I have ever met, you needn’t make any decisions today. We can stay here all day, take our meals here, read every book in the library, whatever you would like” her smile reassuring you that everything would turn out fine.

“Thank you mother, but I would rather be alone today, if that is alright” giving her the best smile you could muster. “Of course, whatever you need. I will have your meals sent in. I do have some things to take care of today.” Stopping her as she made her way to the door, “Mother, can you also have them bring me some paper and a quill? I have a letter I would like to write.”

As the sun was setting, your letter was written, the Asgardian seal embossed to it and ready to be delivered to its recipient. The only person who had come into your chambers today was your mother, the queen not allowing anyone near you was the most helpful in making your decision.

The next morning you exited your room, with a new determination, and a completely different outlook on your future, one that surprised even yourself. As expected, Clint was standing guard outside of your room, as you made your way toward the dining hall, but was wise enough to not say anything to you, allowing you to handle the situation you had put the two of you in.

Reaching the room seemed to take longer with no conversation, but it was for the best that you move past this with as much dignity as you could. Once he opened the door, you turned to him, he looked expectant and almost hopeful that your comradery would go back to how it had always been, but that was impossible now.

Instead you handed him the letter you had written yesterday. “Can you please have one of the palace footmen deliver this today? It is quite urgent” you gave him a small smile.

“Of course Y/N” he nodded, offering you a small smile as well.

You could have left it at that, but decided to make one final statement to him that would solidify your decision, so while he was still within earshot you replied “thank you Sir Barton”.

His shoulders immediately sagged when he realized you were putting up a barrier between the two of you that hadn’t been there since his first day in the palace. He wanted to say something, explain himself, but he knew nothing would undo the damage he caused by not being honest from the beginning and allowing you a false sense of hope, something he hadn’t intended but was nonetheless solely on his shoulders. As deemed by his position, he merely bowed at your request and made his way out of the dining hall.

The following day the castle was buzzing with excitement before you had even finished getting ready for the day. Not sure what was happening, you sent your maid to find out as much detail as you could before you even allowed her to pick out your wardrobe for the day. Once she made her way back to your chambers you demanded every last detail you could get.

“Well Princess, it seems there is a suitor here, demanding an audience with the King and Queen. We all know that only means one thing, he is bypassing courting you properly and is arranging an engagement with your parents!” she was shocked that any man would attempt such a thing, your strong willed reputation was known throughout the realms.

The smile on your face grew as she fastened your corset and you began picking up your jewelry. “As long as it’s Lord Barnes, that is not an issue” hearing her gasp at your comment made you begin to giggle.

“How do you know it’s Lord Barnes, I was saving that for the shocking reveal”

“Oh, I apologize for thwarting your plan. But Lord Barnes is here because I summoned him” you winked at her as she finished pinning your hair back.

Her jaw nearly dropped to the floor, “you summoned a suitor? Is that allowed?” whispering to make the innocent question seem scandalous.

“My dear, as Prince of Asgardia, the only way I will ever get what I want, is by taking it” you stood and made your way out of the room, not even glancing at Clint who was at his post as usual. Making your way to the throne room, you tried your best to walk at your usual pace, but today you had a mission to accomplish.

#avengers au #avengers bingo #avengers unrequited love #avengers fanfiction #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #avengers reader insert #marvel reader insert #clint barton x reader #bucky barnes x reader #Thor Odinson #loki of asgard

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darbuckle21 · 1 year

Text

Need me? Beg

Info: fem reader-cussing- use of Y/N

“Prisoner 1035 be nice” the guard warns over the intercom. “I’m always nice sir” I smile at the camera In my cell. I hear the door open followed by footsteps. “Took me awhile to find you” Stark teases. “Well as you can see I’m a busy woman” I smile sarcastically waving my hands around my cell. “what do you want Stark” I smile looking him up and down. “Can’t I be here to visit an old friend?” He asks sticking his lip out pouting. “Not anymore, not after last time sorry Stark” back away returning to my previous position. “Is this all you do now? Yoga?” He teases clearly checking me out while I hold my plank. “What do you want?” I growl out annoyed. “I need your help” he mumbles. “What’s in it for me?” I huff still in a plank. “Your release” he smiles holding the key to my cell in hand. “Has it been that long that you’ve forgotten who your talking to?” I stand up walking closer to the bars. I reach into my pants pulling out the same key. “You can do better than that Stark” I tease. “Your really gonna make me say it” he huffs rolling his eyes while I nod. “Please I need you” he pleads. “Okay fine” I smile. ———————————————————————

“who’s she?” The man I recognize as War Machine asks Tony who smiles as he gestures for me to sit at the table full of hero’s. Namely The Black Panther,Vision, Black Widow, and War Machine or also known as the iron patriot. “This is my old friend Y/N also known as Lady Revenge” he explains as I smile coyly at the new faces. “She’s leveled entire hydra bases and killed countless of human traffickers, she was on the run for awhile before being caught by SHEILD and put in the raft” The red haired woman fills in a concerned War machine. “Ah so we fight one criminal with another, you are dumber than you look Stark” Black Panther teased causing me to laugh. I listen intently as Tony explains the plan and what happened before I arrived. The more I listen the more angry I become. He must be desperate if he thinks I would ever choose him over the real victim in this scenario. I bite my tongue though trying to make it less personal. This has nothing to do with me it’s just a favor for a friend. I tell myself as we prep for battle. ———————————————————————

“Wow, it’s so weird how you run into people at the airport, don’t you think that’s weird?” Stark asks the man I’ve come to know as Rhodey who replies with “definitely weird”. I smile as I float down landing on the ground with a wave. “Hear me out, Tony that doctor, the psychiatrist he’s behind all of this” Rodgers reasons as T’Challa jumps down joining us. “Captain” he greats and Rodgers turns replying “your highness”. Tony now impatient continues “anyway, Ross gave me 36 hours to bring you in, that was 24 hours ago. Can you help a brother out?” Captain only responds with “your after the wrong guy”. “Your judgement is askew, your old war buddies killed innocent people yesterday” Tony is now serious. “And there are five more just like him, I can’t let the doctor find him first, Tony. I can’t” he pleads. I bite my tongue as Natasha mutters “Steve, you know what’s about to happen, so you really wanna punch your way outta this one?” She asks pleading with his eyes. I grow more and more irritated by the second, these people don’t get it, maybe it was the fact I had similar things happen to me cause of Hydra. I don’t know whatever it is that separates me from them, it is making more irritated by the second they don’t understand. “God damn it, sorry Tony I really did try but” I smile sadly as I walkover to Rodgers side. “Fine, underoos!” Tony shouts a kid in a red suit webs Rodgers hands together causing the shield to fly in the air. The kid catches it landing on top of the helicopter. “Nice job kid!” Tony smiles. “Thanks, I could’ve stuck the landing a little better it’s just, new suit. Wait! It’s nothing Mr Stark! It’s perfect thank you!” Tony interrupts telling the kid they don’t need a conversation. “Okay, Cap- Captain! Lady Revenge! Big fan, I’m Spider-Man” he waves I smile waving back, poor kid doesn’t deserve to get sucked into all of this. “You’ve been busy” Captain informs dryly. “And you’ve been an idiot dragging in Clint, "rescuing Wanda" and now you have her” Tony scolds. “Look Tony, you don’t get it okay? I’ve been there! I’ve been trapped by them! You think I was born like this? A freak?!” I yell angrily. Suddenly Captain lifts his tied hands and an arrow flys through then breaking them. Then a man in a metal suit appears out of nowhere grabbing the shield and returning it to Rodger. That’s when the fight breaks out. I have no idea what Captains plan is but I try holding off The spider kid. ———————————————————————“hi! I’m Y/N” I smile reaching back from the passenger seat holding out a hand to the unfamiliar guy in front of me. “James Barnes” he greats I smile. “You know we aren’t on the side of the law with this one?” Steve asks from the drivers side. “What else is new? You’d think they would thank me for what I did? I mean those hydra fuckers deserved it” I smile looking at him. “Where did Stark find you?” Steve asks smiling. “Raft” I giggle turning on the radio. “How do you guys know each other?” James questions. “Me and Tones? He’s Locked me up bunches it’s real fun” now the two men look a little frightened. “What did they do to you?” James sympathizes. “You know what they did, I can see it in your eyes” I reply dryly. “I’ve never been in a quinjet before” I smile to myself. “Steve? I don’t know if I’m worth all of this” the brunette questions. “What you did all of those years… it wasn’t you. You didn’t have a choice.” The blonde comforts. “I know, but I did it” he replies glumly. I turn my seat facing him “I’ve only heard stories from my old cellmate back at the raft about you, he was obsessed with the howling commandos, but from what I’ve heard and from what I’ve seen you are a good guy, I know what it’s like you know? I’m not crazy” I finish the rest of the ride is silent until we get there. ———————————————————————

“how’ed it go?” Sam asks from his cell across from me. “We went to an abandoned Hydra facility long story short Tony showed up Steve and James Fought him but I couldn’t, turns out this mad man named Zemo was behind it all James and Steve ran leaving Tony for dead. I then helped Tony home and caught Zemo and get thrown in here” I finish. “Wow” Clint huffs. “Tell me about it, save the man you love get thrown in raft! At least I get the same cell” I giggle. Just then Tony walks in “if it isn’t Stark? Thought you locked us away and threw away the key?” Clint huffs. I turn away not looking at him, I cant not after what he did. “I’m sorry sweetheart, is that what you want me to say? Huh want me to beg again?” He pleads with me. I shake my head refusing to turn to face him. “No, I get it I understand your anger, he killed your parents, they left you for dead, but I didn’t okay? I love you Tony I always have and all I get back is this” I huff angrily. “I’m gonna get you out of here okay?” He pleads. “We both know they never could contain me” I huff. “I’m sorry, please forgive me?” Tony begs softly “You say that every time, this time Tony, im not listening!” I yell and he backs away before eventually leaving. He didn’t come back again after that no did. Until Steve walks right in breaking the walls of our cells freeing us.

#the avengers #avengers reader insert #tony stark #tony stark x reader #x reader

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tuiccim · 21 days

Text

We're Gonna Burn

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Smut, Sex Pollen, Non/DubCon (because sex pollen), enemies to lovers.

Summary: When an exposure to a strange powder makes you feel as if you're burning to death, your only relief is in the person you hate the most.

A/N: Special thanks to my beta reader @whisperlullaby

“What the hell was that, Barnes?” You practically yell as you push open the front door of the safe house you’d been directed to.

“I don’t know! I’ve never seen anything like it. God, the smell!” He shakes his head.

“It’s burned into my nostrils. All I can smell is that sweet flower smell. You’ve never seen that pink powder?” You throw your things to the floor, looking around the small, remote house.

“No, I’d tell you if I did, damnit! Why do you keep asking?” Bucky growls.

“You’re not the most forthcoming person! Shit, I think you’ve spoken more in the last two minutes than in the three months I’ve known you! Jesus, fuck, I’ve gotta get rid of this smell. I’m so fucking hot,” your voice gets smaller as you speak. You can’t think straight but head towards the bathroom, unzipping your tac suit and pulling it from your arms as you go. You slam the door and lock it. You turn the cold water on full blast and nearly fall over in your haste to get your suit off. The frigid spray helps for a few moments and you revel in it, but soon another type of heat begins to take over. Your clit throbs and when you place your hand between your legs, your wetness coats your fingers. The shower stops bringing relief and instead, the water coursing down your body seems to only make you hornier. You give in to the need that takes hold and circle your clit. It feels amazing and it takes only a couple of minutes for your orgasm to break over you. You bite your lip to hold in the moans, not wanting the asshat on the other side of the door to hear you.

Your body has a moment of relief but then the heat builds again, even quicker this time. You dip your fingers inside of you in a desperate attempt to stop it. The second orgasm you managed to pull did little to help your body and your fingers keep working furiously to bring another in hope of relief. Your moans are spilling from your lips without a care now. You just need to get this to stop. You’re disturbed when the door rattles and a fist bangs loudly.

“Open the door! I need to get in there,” Bucky bellows.

You wanted to scream at him to go away but you could barely form words. You hated the stupid supersoldier from the moment you met him. He questioned your every turn. Whether it was about your skill, experience, or motives. He never lets you get through a single conversation without making you feel like a lesser part of the team.

“Goddamnit, let me in!” He yells more loudly.

Nothing your hand was doing was helping any longer. You couldn’t think straight and, before you can make a move or form a thought, the door splinters open from a kick. A very naked Bucky comes through the door and your eyes widen as you see his cock standing at attention. He steps into the spray of the cold shower and growls. His hand works his cock furiously while his other rests on the tiles. His head falls forward as he lets the cold water fall down his back. You stand behind him, your hand still between your legs.

“Fuck, what’s happening to us?” you whimper as you lean your feverish forehead onto his back. The cool water does nothing to help but where your skin touches his tingles with relief. Abandoning all pride, you press your entire body to his and the fever seems to cool wherever you touch but your clit throbs even harder. Your cunt weeps, begging for attention.You rub yourself against him, your nipples pebbling at the contact with his back.

With a growl, Bucky turns around and you quickly back up to press your back against the wall of the shower. He stares at you, breathing hard.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble in your haze, “I don’t know what’s happening. I’m so hot and-”

You gasp as Bucky bends down, grabs your legs, and drags you up the tiles. You squeal and reach for any handhold as he puts your legs over his shoulders and attacks your clit with his tongue.

“Oh, fuck!” You scream as one hand lands on the ceiling to help you balance and the other buries in his hair. His tongue swirls over your clit expertly. His hands squeeze your ass as he gorges himself on you. It doesn’t take long for you to buck your hips as you come all over his face. As he sets you down, you squeeze your thighs together but your body simply screams that it wants more. You stare at each other, breathing heavily. “It’s not working. Nothing helps,” you whimper, tears forming. It’s obvious by watching him that this is affecting him almost as much as you. His supersoldier serum must be helping him but he was burning just the same.

Bucky sighs as he steps closer to you. He presses his forehead to yours with his eyes closed and whispers, “I think there’s only one thing that’s going to help.”

You put your arms around his neck, “Just do it!” You wrap a leg around his to encourage him and he lifts you up. He presses your back into the wall as he lines himself up with your entrance. He paused there for a second as if he was fighting himself. “Please, Barnes, please! I need it!” You can’t believe you’re begging the man you hate to fuck you but your body was demanding it and if he didn’t you were sure you would burn to death. If you had been thinking straight, you would probably prefer to burn but, at this moment, you wanted nothing more than to be filled.

“Goddamnit,” he whispers as he presses in. Your body bows with pleasure.

“Yes! Yes!” Your voice reverberates off the tile walls as you shout with relief. He begins to pump and your body trembles with each motion of his cock. He grabs your ass as he pounds into you and you know he’s as lost in the meeting of your bodies as you are. Your cunt flutters around him, pulling him in, begging for him to come inside of you. Your rational mind has gone completely silent and you are filled with only carnal lust. Every motion of his hips takes you higher and it’s all you want. “Don’t stop,” you grip his shoulders harder.

“Fuck,” Bucky grunts. He couldn’t stop if he wanted to and, truth was, this was the best thing he’d felt in a long time.

“Oh, God, oh, God, I’m- yes!” You release a long, high-pitched moan as you come. Your pussy grips his cock as his hips stutter. He comes with a long moan that makes you clench around him more firmly. You stay there for a few moments, catching your breath, and blessedly your body finally starts to cool. You release your legs from around his waist and he gently sets you down. You can’t look at him and instead maneuver yourself back under the cold spray. You rinse off quickly and step out of the shower. Wrapping yourself in a towel, you exit the bathroom to find your pack and some clothes. While you rifle through your pack, you feel your temperature creeping up again and then you double over from the intense wave that rolls over you. “No, no, not again,” you whisper to yourself. You look over to the broken bathroom door where Bucky still is and consider your options. Sex had given you the relief you needed but it was short lived. Your mind runs amuck with questions. What the hell was that powder? What was it doing to you? How long would this last? How many times would it take to stop this heat from trying to burn you alive? Was sex really the only relief you would find? Another pang hit and knocked the breath from your body. You were gasping in pain when an arm picked you up around your middle.

He was still wet from the shower and hadn’t bothered to dry off. The pains had hit him and he went to the only place he knew he could find relief. He carried you to the small bed in the house and set you down on your hands and knees. He grips your hips tightly and pauses for a moment as another rush of heat spreads over him, “I need-”

“Just do it,” your words come out in a rush, pressing back into him.

He enters you without preamble. Pulling you back to meet each motion of his hips, his moans give evidence of the pleasure and relief that the connection brings. You reach under you to play with your clit, trying to bring your orgasm on more quickly. Each of Bucky’s swift thrusts has you crying out with pleasure and he moves your hand away to bring you to orgasm himself. He wanted to feel you clench around him as you had before.

“Oh, fuck, just like that,” you whine, “Just like that, don’t- don’t stop, oh, fuck.”

Bucky moans as he feels your cunt flutter around his cock with your orgasm. The sounds you release are a hit straight to his cock and he comes hard, thrusting with each spurt into you. Breathing heavily, you both collapse on the bed. You lay on your side facing away from him while taking stock of your body. The relief you felt with your orgasm was short lived as heat began to build again after only a few minutes.

You feel like crying as your body radiates waves of heat. You turn over to face Bucky. He is lying on his back, his metal arm slung over his eyes, and his right hand fisting his hard cock. You make your decision quickly. Pulling his hand away, you straddle him and guide his cock inside of you. You move your hips slowly, hoping that perhaps if you stretched out the sex, it would keep the pain at bay longer. His hands grip your thighs as you rock slowly, his head is thrown back with eyes tightly closed. You looked at him for a moment and still couldn't believe that of all the teammates this could happen with, it had to be this asshole. When you first met him, you thought he was hot as fuck but as his personality (or lack there of) reared it’s ugly head you found him less and less attractive. Your anger at the situation grew as you rode him and you found yourself leaning forward, chasing your orgasm to just get this over with.

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky bucks up into you, causing you to cry out. He repeats the motion over and over again until your body spasms around him. He comes with a grunt as he watches your face contort with pleasure. You collapse on his chest without looking at him. You wondered if keeping your bodies connected would keep the heat from returning.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks softly.

You sigh weakly as you felt the now familiar warmth beginning to spread, “I was hoping…” You let out a frustrated grunt, “I was hoping if we stayed touching it would be enough. But it’s starting again.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Bucky acknowledges his own heat building. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“You don’t know that. You can’t know that,” you grouse.

“I think… I think this might be a pheromone or something Hydra created to force procreation. I heard of the experiments but they abandoned it when it didn’t produce the results they wanted.”

“Which was?” You ask as your hips make slow circles. You can feel his cock quickly hardening inside of you.

“Naturally born supersoldiers,” Bucky strains out the words.

“So, we’re gonna have sex until we die or what?”

“Usually wore off in a few hours but until then…” he trails off as he gots lost in the sensations.

“Fuck,” you groan, partially out of frustration, partially from the pleasure his thick cock was producing.

“Basically,” Bucky says and you surprise yourself by laughing at the droll comment. You are even more surprised a second later when Bucky rolls you under him. He buries his face in your neck as he pulls your leg up higher and thrusts. You throw your head back as the pleasure begins to build again.

“Harder,” you whimper.

Bucky complies immediately and you whimper with each stroke. Grabbing onto him, you get lost in the feeling of his cock pounding into you sharply. You were glad that he at least was decent at this. Or was it that whatever the damn contaminant was made everything feel amazing? You were getting close with the steady way he fucked you and words started to pour out of your mouth. You were usually quite vocal in bed but hadn’t wanted to give Bucky the satisfaction. Now, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Oh, god, it’s so good. Don’t stop, right there. It’s so fucking good. Oh, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna- fuck!” You let out a loud moan as you come hard and Bucky’s hips work even faster as he nears his own end. When he comes on a broken cry, your body revels in the feeling of him emptying himself in you.

The rational side of your brain sounded far away but was still screaming at the situation. In a moment of it managing to take hold, you push Bucky off of you and roll away from him. Breathing heavily, you pray that this is over. Surely, this was enough to satisfy anything. You will yourself to stay cool, to not allow the heat to return, to hold onto any shred of sanity you can find, but despite it all, the heat built again. You felt like screaming but you knew that nothing you did would help. You turn back to Bucky and say frustratedly, “Ready for another round?” You can’t meet his eyes but you knew neither of you could handle the pain and heat. You needed each other.

Bucky turns to you, “Hey.” He waits, wanting you to look him in the eyes but you just stare at his chest. “Hey.”

“What?” You say waspishly, still refusing to meet his gaze.

“Never mind,” he says as he grabs you and pulls your back against his chest. His cock nudges you from behind and you maneuver your hips to allow him entry. His thrusts are quick and sharp but his fingers on your clit are pure magic. He’s learned your body quickly but instead of leading you straight to orgasm this time, he works you to the precipice and then backs off repeatedly. You understood what he was trying to do. He was trying to prolong the sex in hopes of not having to come inside you any more than he already had but it was as if your body only got angrier with each denial.

“It’s not working! Just let me come!” You finally cry out, your frustration having reached its breaking point.

“Say it,” Bucky growls.

You wrack your muddled brain trying to grasp what he wants and latch on to the only word you can find, “Please!”

“No, say my name.”

You would normally reel angrily at a command from him but the effects this powder had on you makes you compliant from need. You stutter as your tongue tries to cooperate, “B- Barnes.”

“No,” he says darkly, “Say it.”

“Bucky,” you grind the word out through your teeth. You had never once called him that. It had always been some variant of his last name. You felt even more vulnerable now.

Bucky doesn’t utter a word but he moves his hips faster and his fingers do their job. When you finally come, your whole body spasms and you scream. The sound was foreign to your ears but the orgasm just kept going. You fluttered around Bucky’s cock, milking him of cum. You stay in that position for the next two rounds of sex. Then you got on top again to give Bucky a break but this time you faced away from him. You couldn’t look at him. When you had rode him to two orgasms and yourself to utter exhaustion, he turned you on your stomach to fuck you again. You lost count of the number of times you had sex. More orgasms than you’d ever had in your life were accomplished and you didn’t have any clue how many times he came. You fucked until you both passed out.

Waking up fourteen hours later, you felt as if you had the worst hangover you’d ever experienced. You glance at the spot Bucky had been in but he was gone. On the table by the bed was a couple of bottles of water, a protein bar, and a bottle of pain reliever. You raised your eyebrow at the items but just shrugged as you tore into all of them. You notice your pack is by the bed and you get up to put clothes on. The first thing you notice is the soreness between your legs but really your whole body hurts. You listen for a moment but don’t hear anything in the house. Peeking out the door, you see the empty living room and slip into the bathroom. You shower quickly, trying not to remember what happened in the small space just yesterday.

You jump when a knock sounds while you are dressing. You call out, “Yes?”

“Exfil will be here in five minutes,” Bucky says through the broken door.

“I’ll be right out,” you say. Your stomach is in knots. You can’t imagine facing him after everything. Would he act like nothing happened or gloat like the asshole he is? You wonder if you will ever be able to look him in the face again. You look at yourself, surprised that you still look the same as you did yesterday because you know you’ll never be the same again. But you didn’t have time to dwell on that. Now, you had a jet to catch.

Part 2

Updates and taglist: Due to the unreliable nature of tags, I no longer keep a taglist. Updates for series will be made on Sundays Central Time Zone. Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction and turn on notifications for updates. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support!

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ynscrazylife · 11 months

Note

Hey so could you do some domestic headcanons with Maria (like what she does in her free time, if she likes to get up early, etc.)

Domesticity With Maria Hill

Being the Deputy Director of SHIELD, Maria is guaranteed to have a crazy schedule. She works long hours and oftentimes, when she gets home, you’re already asleep. You insist on trying to wait up for her, but 9/10 times, that doesn’t end up happening.

Maria usually comes home to find you on the couch, the TV flashing, remote in your limp hand. Her heart aches at the site. You’re adorable, but she wishes you would just go to bed.

Maria has a routine. First, she slips the remote out of your hand and turns off the TV. Next the tidies up a bit if things are messy. Then, she’ll fold the blanket you have wrapped around you. Lastly, she’ll carry you to bed. Sometimes you stir and curl into her, other times you’re completely out.

Also, side note: you love Maria’s arms. She definitely has muscles and they’re very hot.

“You could crush me with your arms and I’d thank you”

On the rare occasion that she is home by a reasonable hour, you’re very giddy and that always puts a smile on Maria’s face. She loves seeing you happy.

On the weekends, the two of you usually have a lazy Saturday morning. It’s very hard to get either of you out of bed. You’ll be curled up with one another (Maria as the big spoon). She’ll run her hand through your hair.

If it’s raining…..you’re not going anywhere on Saturday. Saturday is a cozy, indoors day.

I feel like you and Maria would have a dog. Maria usually takes the dog out on walks in the early mornings and the two of you will walk the dog together after dinner.

Walks around the neighborhood with Maria are the best :)

Also, even if not everyone at SHIELD has met you, they all adore you. Maria talks about you a lot. They especially love when you bake homemade cookies or brownies and Maria brings them in (you give extra sweets to Natasha, of course).

You and Maria will also go to the gym together. She’s always spotting you, making sure you don’t get hurt. She’s very protective.

You love practicing different hair styles on Maria and she’ll indulge you. Oftentimes she’s sitting at the kitchen table doing paperwork and you’re sitting behind her on a counter, braiding her hair.

Also, you always insist on decorating for the holidays. Every single one. Your house is decked out. You can usually convince Maria to put up the decorations with you.

SHE IS SO ROMANTIC ON VALENTINE’S DAY. I’M TALKING ROSE PETALS EVERYWHERE AND CANDLE LIGHT DINNERS AND CHOCOLATES.

She is so charming and good at sweet talk and flustering you.

Maria is also usually waking up earlier than you in the morning. Before she heads off to work, she gives you a kiss on the cheek and you grunt sleepily in return.

If you’re being too stubborn about getting up, Maria will get the dog to jump on you and lick you all over your face.

Whenever Maria gets vacation time, you’re dragging her to the prettiest places. You’d be the planner among the two of you.

And whenever Maria’s away on missions, she always gets you a souvenir from wherever she is.

You guys tried to keep a plant once — didn’t go so well. You also got emotionally attached to the plant, which Maria didn’t really get.

The two of you have a lot of scrapbooks which you guys love reminiscing over glasses of wine.

I fully believe your house is so cozy all the damn time. Tons of sweaters and blankets. Lights are usually dimmed. It’s so nice.

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peter-parkers-left-pinky · 2 years

Text

Y/n: I need to dye my hair.

Natasha: ...

Y/n: Or get another tattoo.

Natasha: ...

Y/n: Or a new piercing.

Natasha: Why?

Y/n: To, you know, appease the mental breakdown gods.

#marvel #mcu #incorrect quotes #incorrect marvel quotes #incorrect mcu quotes #y/n insert #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #avengers reader insert #incorrect marvel #incorrect mcu #mcu reader insert #wanda maximoff #avengers #bucky barnes #incorrect avengers #incorrect avengers quotes

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missmonsters2 · 2 years

Text

Between the Lines || XVII

PAIRING: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader / Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader / WandaNat x Fem!Reader Summary: Vampire AU. Life has changed drastically since the 1600s. Things are always on the move, and you’ve been very careful to not get on SHIELDs radar. Living on the down-low owning a café, you’re content to live out a quiet existence. That is until the Avengers enter your life. [Set after the New York Invasion, in CAWS, and goes up to AoU. Canon divergent after.]

Warning: canon-level violence.

TATYANA'S NEW CHARACTER FACE

Note: What a long hiatus! Glad to be back <3 hope you all enjoy this wild chapter! Please remember taglists are gone but you can follow my library blog for notifs! <3

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Library Blog || A03

PART XVII of XX

Count: ~8.5k

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The air smells different.

You expected it to. The landscape has changed after so many years, but it has still thrown you off kilter. You haven't returned to Tatyana's grave site in many years. It was cowardly, but you just couldn't.

You didn't feel like you had the right to. It felt wrong to have killed Tatyana and then sit at her grave and mourn. She would've loved it, though, and she'd probably want you to sit there uncomfortable and discontent. As much as it would've been a part of your punishment, you only visited a handful of times throughout the first couple of decades. You had less time once you encountered David, dealing with his newborn tendencies.

"So, what exactly are we looking for? A gravesite?" Tony asks, his helmet coming off momentarily as he surveys the area. It looked like a quaint little town. Modernized with time, but it was still out in the countryside. The air was still brisk, but it was warming with springtime emerging. You hear children and their parents preparing for the day in the distance, and it’s rather nostalgic.

"No," you shook your head. "I didn't bury her near anyone. I don't believe the villagers would've accepted having their murderer buried amongst their dead. There had been a flower field miles away that I laid her to rest at." You look around. "Although it's hard to tell if it will still even be there or if something was built over it."

"Can't you, like, I don't know—smell it?" Tony gestures at nothing in particular.

You roll your eyes. "I'm not a bloodhound. This was centuries ago, there'd be nothing left to smell even if I could pick something up this far."

You keep walking, leading the group, because you smell something even if you can't smell Tatyana's grave. You have yet to mention it to the group since you're unsure what it could be and don't want to get everyone more riled up when they're already so tense.

The moment you walk far enough between towns, an area excluded away from civilization just past the trees, something inside you clicks.

"It's here," you furrow your brows.

"What's wrong?" Natasha asks.

"I—" but you can't finish the sentence as there are a thousand footsteps at once. On the other side of the clearing, vampires are marching.

"Shit," Steve says.

"Language," Tony says, but it lacks its teasing tone.

Everyone buckles up, raising their weapons as the vampires begin to pick up their pace into a run toward you. You and the team begin to run to meet them, but before either side can reach the middle, there's a strong blast of magic, hitting the ground and nearly splitting it.

"I don't remember giving orders to move."

You smell her before you see her.

Spice and hydrangea override your sensories.

All you can smell is her—the memories. It's the smell of eggs, slightly burnt cinnamon, herbs, the laundry, the river, and grass, and no one could ever understand it, but you could smell the warmth. You smelled somewhere—someone you used to call home.

Smelling her just felt like you were losing everything all over, and to see her? Your breath hitches in a way that feels like it's slicing against your lungs.

"Fuck," you murmur. "It's really you."

Tatyana descends upon the field, her soldiers parting to make way for her. She looks just the way she did those few blissful weeks before everything went downhill—before you lost her. Her defined cheekbones, mauve lips, and sage green eyes that felt like she could always see right through you.

The field was noisy, settling down into a quiet murmur, but none of it mattered. None of it matters because Tatyana's eyes held yours as she looked at you as if it was just the two of you on the field.

"My love," her husk voice whispers, but you can hear it clear as bells.

You feel like you're being constricted, her voice and eyes strangling the life out of every thought you could have possibly been having that wasn't about her.

Natasha watches the scene unfold before her, unsure what to make of it. She hasn't ever seen you like this, even as you talked about her. But perhaps this was the issue. You always talked about her in a past-tense fashion. Tatyana had been nothing but a wounded memory that left scars all over you. Even when you encountered her previously, she was always in someone else's body.

But now, she was in front of you, clearly alive and unchanged. Seeing Tatyana must've brought you back to the 1600s just before everything went awry.

Natasha looks over at Wanda, who's struggling to decide what she feels. There's a definite burning hatred there. Wanda wasn't sure she could ever forgive the manipulations and the last encounter. And for a moment, she hated that she had done the same to others with her powers. Yet, there was a displaced longing. This woman was related to her by blood—another family member when she thought there was just Pietro.

"Sveti kurac," Pietro curses. "She really does look like you."

Tatyana turns her head then towards the twins, assessing them. "How misguided," she sniffs with a crinkle in her nose. Her accent is thick as she says, "she looks like me."

Wanda bristles at the tone and words. She could practically feel Tatyana's insinuation that Wanda was a poor imitation to replace her. She narrows her eyes, conjuring up her magic.

"Feisty," Tatyana chuckles like it's some kind of joke. "It's precious you think you can beat me, child."

Heat floods Wanda at the condescending tone.

"I had the upper hand on this battlefield," Tatyana cocks her brow. "Don't tell me you fools came here thinking I wouldn't have cast runes all over this place."

"My magic's still working, is it not?" Wanda smirks as she raises her hand, sending a blast of magic forward, only for it to make it out a few feet before fizzling away.

Tatyana bursts out laughing, hand over her mouth before she slides it up her face and through her hair, smirking. She turns to look at you, "I know the alternative to you not showing up here would've been devastating, but you were a bad girl, not preparing them more to come here."

You were stricken but trying to gather yourself and not show it. You take a deep breath. "What exactly is it that you want?" You stare on with no emotion.

It's then that Tatyana's expression changes. Gone with the amusement, and in came the narrowed anger. Her eyes narrowed, jaw clenched with a pinched brow.

"Don't ask ridiculous questions," she hisses at you.

"What?" You taunt her. "Don't tell me you're still chasing your delusional ambitions of ruling the humans." You look around, gazing at the improved artificial vampire army that seems to hover, just waiting for Tatyana's command. "They're better than the last batch, but they'll never be the real thing."

"I don't need them to be the real thing," Tatyana cocks her brow. "I just need them to get the job done." But Tatyana doesn't reveal exactly what job that is.

You pinch your brows, trying to appear annoyed rather than shaken. "Tatyana, just—stop," you sigh almost pleadingly. "Let it go. Let go of your anger at the humans."

But Tatyana just laughs, and it's hollow sounding. "You must not think about me at all anymore if you think I'm angry at the humans."

"Angry at me then?" You push. "There's nothing I could ever say to justify what I've done but I think the punishment you've left me and the fact that I'll live with what I did for the rest of my life is enough."

Tatyana just shakes her head. "I'm not going to talk about this here with you," she says and holds out her hand. "You've had your fun, and I've indulged your dalliances long enough. It's time to return to me."

There's a moment when you hesitate. There was a time in your life when this would've been all you wanted. You felt like you were walking around with half your spirit carved out for a long time. You missed Tatyana so bad some days that you wanted to join her, if not for Leo and then David. You would sleep if only to dream about a life where you and she had everything. Sometimes you would stay awake to avoid dreaming. Tatyana had been the rising and falling of everything to you.

But—you take a deep breath—that was just a moment in time.

"No," you tell her softly, but you know everyone can hear it. "That time of our life is gone, Tatyana."

"Don't make me ask twice," Tatyana calmly states, keeping her hand out, but there's a wisp of blue around her finger as she curls it, beckoning you.

You feel the magic jerk you forward, and the titillating of your center of gravity throws you off from fighting it. But before you can move further, Natasha and Wanda grip both sides of your wrist, grounding you.

You look gratefully at the two, your eyes soft as they smile back at you.

The intimacy of it brings a wave of white, hot anger into Tatyana. "How dare you interrupt us," she hisses.

"You made it everyone's business by bringing us all out here," Natasha gives her signature raised brow. "And it's certainly mine and Wanda's business. Hasn't anyone ever told you no means no? You're almost no better than a man at this point."

Tatyana narrows her eyes at Natasha, disgust written all over her features as she glares at the redhead agent. But she doesn't say anything, as if deigning that Natasha wasn't worth speaking to, let alone her time.

Suddenly, she snaps her fingers. Without words, the army of vampires begins charging again, and everyone has their hands full. Natasha and Wanda have to let go of you to beat off the crowding vampires, but the short moment of their hold has you able to stand on your feet again. Tatyana can't use her magic to try to pull you again, not when you're used to her magic and can throw it off.

Everyone's holding their own, and Tatyana seems to be refraining from joining the fight, and you're still trying to figure out why. You look around, and Wanda can only cast magic within a few feet of herself, meaning she has to be close to her enemies. Natasha's style of fighting naturally is close range. For the most part, everyone's is. With the exception of Pietro, who can run circles around everyone, and Tony, who can use his suit to fly, everyone is bound to the ground.

Tatyana seems to realize this within minutes of watching everyone fight. She uses magic to conjure something in her palms before sending multiple blasts toward Tony's. They hit him in quick succession at his feet and back. He can't move out of the way in time, busy above trying to shoot off two vampires on Steve's back. Nothing happens immediately. But then, roots begin to grow out from the bottom, breaking the repulsors in his feet, and he starts to drop from the sky. He tries to engage the jetpack in his back but nothing comes out.

Tony instantly begins trying to use the repulsors in his hands to slow the fall, but he isn't flying high enough from the ground. He's going to land right into a horde of vampires waiting to rip him apart. Tony could send missiles to kill them, but he might get caught in the blast.

"Tony!" Steve yells, using his shield to brutally jab into a vampire's shoulder over and over to release his leg. He starts running, but Steve knows he's not going to make it in time, and it's chilling.

"Steve!" Pietro yells as he begins to run. "Hold your shield up and brace yourself!"

Steve doesn't even hesitate. The time spent hunting for Bucky with the young man has earned his trust. Pietro barrels into Steve’s back, keeping his feet planted on the ground as he uses his powers to run the both of them. Steve's shield barrels into the group of vampires, knocking them over with a brutal force from the speed.

When it looks like just the perfect spot, Pietro stops pushing Steve before grabbing his shield and using it to slam into the rest of the vampires surrounding the area.

Steve catches Tony, but it knocks them both to the ground. You can hear the wind being knocked out of Steve's lungs, but it doesn't sound like anything is broken.

"Just for that," Tony sounds breathless. "I won't make fun of you for a week."

"At least two weeks, Stark," Steve huffs as the two get up.

Natasha only catches moments of it from the corner of her eye. She must be careful not to let the enemies in front of her land a blow. Wanda's got her back, but she can tell it's frustrating the young witch her powers are being limited.

"I have to find where she cast the runes," Wanda says. "If I can, there's a chance I can destroy them and get my full magic back."

The advantage of that would be overwhelming and could lead them to a possible victory. So far, Tatyana has refrained from joining the fight, but they might all be fucked if that ever changed.

As Natasha wraps her legs around a vampire's body, swinging her way up as she locks his neck in, she uses her widow bites to stun him as she works her way into breaking his neck. She uses that moment to look at how David and Liam are faring.

David is easily holding his own, watching out for Liam, who stays at the back as support with his alchemy. He seems to be attempting to cast a big spell.

Tatyana sneers as she realizes there's an alchemist amongst the group. "William! Are you going to stand back and have me do all the work?"

You tense, expecting something to shift. When nothing happens after a moment, the tension in your shoulders relax just slightly.

Suddenly, the air changes.

When a man—no, a predator—steps out from behind a tree, you feel something horrible.

If seeing the predator in you could make people feel the hair on the body stand, seeing him was like having the first layer of your skin peel off.

"No need to get yourself in a huff," he rolls his eyes. "You're losing your touch, dear. You can't even take care of a few measly enhanced humans and two vampires?"

He was tall and muscular but not overly so. He had long black hair that would've been popular during the olden days, just sitting at his shoulders. He looked unassuming, but you knew better.

"Don't call me dear," Tatyana snaps at him, but he ignores her.

Williams looks at you. "Hm," he hums. "You look familiar. Did I change you? But your venom doesn't quite smell like mine."

But you're wordless.

All these years...these centuries, and this has never happened to you.

You've never bumped into a vampire older than you.

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William changes the battlefield. What once might've been a possibility of winning quickly becomes closer to being annihilated. Both you and David team up to take on William, trying to be more strategic than using brute power that you both know won't win.

Everyone's busy handling their own fights, but they can't help but watch for the first time to see you outclassed. You brought your elbow into William's rib while David had him in a headlock. Natasha knows that the force alone should've obliterated the bones into dust, and it would've if it were anyone else.

But William merely grunts as he whips the back of his hand into your face, the force of it knocking you miles and miles away into the distance, breaking trunks of trees as you hit them.

Natasha and Wanda scream your name, horrified. They try to take off after you, but suddenly a horde of vampires conjugate into a wall in front of them by force. They look up and see Tatyana floating just above them, smirking.

They all knew this was a possibility, that this was what Tatyana wanted from the beginning. Yet, seeing it happen and being so utterly unable to prevent it is devastating.

"No!" Wanda yells in desperation. She turns around in circles frantically, looking for where Tatyana would've placed the runes.

Natasha's trying to formulate a plan. If she uses her grappling hook, she can try to aim at the trees over the vampires. She might break a leg, but it was better than nothing, wasn't it? It was better than not doing anything at all and watching you be taken.

"I told you, you stupid, little human," Tatyana sneers. "You're only meant for one lifetime and that lifetime is over." She uses her magic to begin toppling the vampires down towards them, meaning to crush them.

Natasha instantly turns to Wanda, running towards her and grabbing her before using the grappling hook. Pietro seems to notice them immediately as she shoots toward him. He moves out of the way of the hook that doesn’t catch anything but grabs onto the rope. With all his might, he runs with the rope, yanking it harshly to get them out of the way of the falling bodies.

Wanda holds onto Natasha tightly, using her magic to create a barrier around their bodies to protect their necks and any damage done to their bodies as it hits the ground.

Wanda wants to sob at the realization that you're gone. Natasha doesn't even feel like she has the time to process it as she watches William grab onto David's arm, crushing it under his grip.

David lets out a painful hiss as his grip loosens, and he's flung from Williams' back into the ground. It cracks as a tiny crater is formed where he lands. David can instantly feel all his ribs break, his legs are mangled, and the back of his head in danger of cracking.

William turns back to where Tatyana took off, stunned that she had simply left and wasn't coming back for him. Rage overtakes his face as he realizes he's been abandoned.

"David!" Natasha yells, running towards him, but he screams at her.

"Don't you fucking dare come closer!" David yells, and it's the first time she's heard him curse like that. "Get out! Get out of here now!"

Natasha wants to scream that she can't—she can't just leave him there. You'd absolutely hate her for it. David seems to think something similar: you'll hate him if you let Natasha and Wanda die here.

This line of work has always taught Natasha there were sacrifices, and you had to live with them. You don't get to question someone else's sacrifice. This was a losing battle, and the only way to survive was if they got to the Quinjet now.

But by the time that happened, what would be left of David? Could she get his brutalized body back from William so he could recover? There has to be some blood bags on the Quinjet, and she could give him her blood if not. He'd heal. He had to.

The idea of recovery gets shot to shit when William pulls out a wooden dagger. And they all know what it's made of.

William means to end it and end it permanently.

"Go!" David yells as William steps closer, hovering over David with his two arms raised, holding the dagger.

Natasha doesn't want to watch, but she can’t tear her eyes away. Wanda's summoning her magic even though she knows she's too far away, and angry tears are spilling out of her eyes. Pietro starts to dig his heel into the ground towards David. Steve throws his shield to the speedster, who catches it with ease. Tony uses one hand to attack the vampires between him and Steve while his other repulsor is pointed towards William, charging up.

Willam's speed nearly matches Pietro, his hands coming down so quickly.

It's over.

God, it was fucking over.

Hiss.

It was small at first. But then suddenly—

CRACK.

The entire field is lit up, lightning and vines zipping through them at an unstoppable force. They take hold of every artificial vampire in the area, grasping them in a vice-like grip. The lightning surrounds it in a second hold, squeezing tighter and tighter until they disintegrate.

William only pauses momentarily at the change on the field before a blur barrels into him ferally. The air leaves his lungs with a grunt. He drops the dagger on the ground, and Pietro scrambles to grab it and take off.

With no artificial vampires left on the field to battle, they all scramble toward David to help him.

They all watch, stunned.

The two bodies rolled on the ground over and over until William landed with force on his back.

And Liam on top.

Liam's eyes were pitch black, and his fangs bared as he snarled at William, snapping his jaws at him. William was surprisingly having a difficult time pushing Liam away, and it seemed Liam was using all his strength and alchemy to force William down.

It wasn't until Liam managed to bite into William's forearm that the man let out a piercing scream as poisonous venom was injected into him. Liam held tight, nearly taking a chunk out of William's arm before he released, biting again just a few inches over.

William began punching Liam in the head with his other arm until he was released. He crouches his legs in, pressing them against Liam’s pelvis as he uses them to knock Liam off of him.

Liam gracefully flips over and lands on his feet. Blood spilled out of his mouth and down his chin as he stood, and he wiped it away on the back of his hand.

"Leave," Liam growled, his eyes still black. "You won't win today."

William considers staying to fight, but he looks at the vines, still moving around. Also, the venom in his arm still pulsates with burning pain. He sniffs. He needs Liam's venom to reverse it; it's not his—

But then William narrows his eyes.

"You."

Liam doesn't respond to it, merely repeating, "Leave."

William snarls at the loss.

“Your venom,” William spits. “You know I can only delay the inevitable.”

Liam nods and they both tense as he blurs over to William, biting his hand before he runs back to create distance between the two.

William only gives him a withering glare before he turns and disappears.

Liam turns, and they all watch, slack-jawed. His eyes are still black, and it makes everyone's hackle rise. But it's like he doesn't register them; he just keeps walking until he's kneeling in front of David.

Liam assesses the damage to see if his venom can fix it temporarily. When he determines it can't, he bites deeply into his own wrist. When he releases, blood starts overflowing, and he immediately places it over David's mouth, who begins to drink greedily.

"What are you doing?" Natasha finds her voice first.

"Blood-sharing," Liam answers. "The blood in his own body is already working overtime and its priorities will always be major organs and the head. I fed before we came, so it should be potent enough to at least heal his arms, legs, and some of his ribs."

"You shouldn't," David mutters weakly, trying to speak and not let any blood escape his mouth. "You'll end up feral if you give me too much."

Natasha quickly connects the dots to why David didn't blood-share during the aftermath of Ultron.

Liam smiles weakly, his eyes slowly returning to normal when it seems like David will be okay. "We'll make do."

"If it's not enough, I'll give you mine," Natasha offers without hesitation.

David smiles thankfully at her. It's then that the Quinjet comes into view with Pietro flying it.

"We...we can't leave," Wanda suddenly says, her eyes welling with tears again. "We can't leave without her."

The heavy loss of you settles over everyone.

"It's okay," Liam says before he lifts his wrist away from David, licking the wound and sealing it up. "Tatyana won't hurt her. She probably can't even take her outside the city."

"How do you know?" Wanda hisses.

"Who the hell are you?" Tony finally asks. "Aren't you supposed to be human? What the hell was all of that?”

"You're clearly older than our two vampires. You're as strong as that William guy," Steve says carefully, assessing the vampire before him.

Liam sighs, running his hand through his hair. "I was William's apprentice. I only got the advantage with all your help to distract him and the fact he was blindsided from seeing me again. If it had just been me, it's possible even my alchemy couldn't kill him."

Liam looked directly at Natasha and Wanda.

"William is my maker, but I'm Elaine's."

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Everyone is sitting back in the Compound, nursing their wounds. They sit around Tony's lab as he silently works on repairing his suit, and Tony is uncharacteristically quiet.

Steve was wiping blood from his brow, inspecting if the cut on it needed to be stitched back together. He, Tony, and Pietro were planning on heading back out to see if they could find any traces of you.

Steve's phone blinked with a message that he quickly checked from Sam.

Found him. Slippery little bastard, but I'll see if I can set a trap.

Steve lets out a tiny smile before sighing and putting away his phone. He feels disconcerted that you've been taken. He wonders at this point if you and Bucky will ever get to meet.

"Speak now," Wanda hisses, "and speak quickly."

"What are you?" Natasha asks without hesitation. "How can you be a vampire and also use alchemy? Those seem to oppose each other if one is meant to be a power to be able to protect themselves from the other."

"How the hell could I not sense you were a vampire?" David mutters, mostly to himself in disbelief. "Vampires are always able to sense each other. It's like a primal instinct that we recognize in each other. And I never saw you feed and we were together almost all the time!"

Liam sighs, almost overwhelmed by all the questions directed at him. "Alchemy is a neutral power but only humans are able to receive it. It has to do with their natural blood. Humans, specifically priests, just used it as so to protect themselves from being prey. I had the gift for it as a human, but it was too weak to fully manifest. Once I was turned, the venom in me unlocked something."

Turning to David, he looked apologetic before pointing to the alchemy spells down his left arm. "This keeps an illusion spell up. It makes it so you can't recognize the predator in me, but I have to be careful because if I force any kind of vampire instincts like bloodlust up, it breaks through the spell. I don't have to feed as often as you being as old as I am, but when I did, I took advantage of the times we were apart."

The room is silent, trying to process the information. Steve and Tony left to see if they could find any trace of you and if they could find any information about where William would be hiding.

"Let me start from the beginning," Liam sighs. "About who I am and everything that has happened to come to this moment."

Wanda has her lip curled in disdain but doesn't say anything. Natasha places her arm on Wanda's elbow, and the girl softens just a moment, leaning into the spy as they all quiet to listen.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Flashback

~1400s to 1600s~

The world was an unnaturally quiet place. At least to Liam. The markets were bustling, and people constantly moved during the day, but that noise never registered with him. Liam took in the days slowly with little to no rush, despite how much it would annoy his father and siblings.

But being the youngest did come with perks. They were generally much more lenient with him, and his mother seemed to hide the fact she'd allow him a taste of whatever was being made for the day first. It was a quiet life, and Liam hadn't minded one bit.

Despite the feeling that something was rumbling just underneath his skin and the crops he grew were always somehow much better than everyone else's, Liam liked his quiet life.

Moments of curiosity beckoned him to venture outside their quaint little farm and markets. Sometimes he stood out at the edge and looked out as if he could see anything beyond the horizon.

He couldn't leave, though.

Even if Liam wanted to see what he could do outside of growing crops, his family didn't need the uncertainty of waiting for him.

But just like how their little life was quiet, death comes just as quietly. Famine spreads through their lands, and Liam only manages to keep the crops alive a little longer than everyone else. One by one, they starve to death.

Being the youngest was a curse, always being given everything there was until he was the last one standing. Hunger gnawed at his stomach as he finally ventured past their quaint little farm and markets.

Hungry.

He was so hungry.

Liam thought about what he could do. Should he try to grow more crops? But the land had suddenly become unsuitable. He was quick with picking up things. Maybe he could try to find a merchant and learn the trade. Only can't remember the last time he saw a merchant pass by. Perhaps he should find a temple and look for work there. He'd have to shave his head, though.

And even as he stumbled upon a gruesome feeding man feeding on another man, Liam stood there motionlessly.

"Oh," the amused voice turned to look at him. "What have you stumbled upon, lost little boy?"

The words were difficult to understand. The man was white-skinned, clearly not from around here, but he had stayed long enough to learn the language from the locals.

"I'm not a boy," Liam shook his head and replied slowly so the man could process his words. His voice felt raspy from the lack of use.

"Could've fooled me," the man laughed lowly. "I can practically see your bones. You wouldn't even be a good feed."

"How can you eat him?" Liam asked as he looked upon the dead body, neck ripped open with blood running down. "Won't you get sick?"

The man raised his brow in amusement. It was strange that Liam didn't seem perturbed, but he supposed they had been experiencing famine for quite some time now. At this point, it was probably eat or be eaten.

"I won't get sick," the man told Liam, smiling sinisterly. "I'm a demon. I will never starve because there will always be blood."

It was quiet for a long moment, and the man wondered if Liam would turn to run. Liam was sweating at his brow and lip half-turned in a frown. Maybe he was too weak to even run away.

The man thinks that the thought of eating him doesn't even seem appealing. Maybe he'll just kill him and be on his way.

"Can I become a demon too?" Liam finally asks, locking eyes with the man, not flinching from their glowing redness. "If I become a demon, then I can live, right?"

The man stared, mouth agape. He starts laughing before he drops the body he's holding. "Fascinating, fascinating," he crooned. "It certainly won't be for free."

"I don't have money," Liam told him immediately. "If I had money, I would be searching for food to buy."

The man snorts. "I don't need money. Anything in this world is mine to take." He walks a slow circle around Liam. "What I want is an apprentice. I have plans, and my last one...didn't last very long."

Liam nodded.

The man smiled, but there was no comfort from it. "I must warn you, I don't have the patience to change you slowly. This will burn." He stepped closer, grabbing a fistful of Liam's hair and yanking his head back. "Welcome to the coven. My name is William, but you will refer to me as master."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

William was a radical. There was no telling how long William was around since he rarely spoke about himself. All Liam knew was that William wanted more demons like him. Secretly, Liam could only surmise that being alone for so long must've been lonely. Being lonely for too long does something to your head.

A century passed by. It didn't feel as quiet as it did when Liam was human. It felt like something was pulsating under his skin, making his bones ache. Liam encountered many priests before, seeing what they called ‘God's power.’ The more they used it around him, the more something inside him resonated—the more it felt like something was about to come out.

But Willi—his master would kill him. If Liam did what he believed he could, he would die for it.

So, Liam started to study the priests from a distance. When he encountered them, he watched with rapt what they were doing, what they drew, and how they moved. When he finally got his hands on one of their 'incantation and hymn' books, he felt something different about his life for the first time.

Liam felt awake. There was a constant stream of excitement in his mind. He could copy the drawings in the book, but he needed someone to teach him how to read the incantations. The world had always moved so slowly, and now Liam couldn't help but want it to move faster.

The only time he could practice was when his master was away. Despite the initial resistance, Liam convinced William that building networks with humans was better. If he wanted to create more demons, then they needed more space.

They needed land and money and their influence to keep the pitchforks and fire away. It was much slower to accomplish, but it was working well.

Humans were naturally suspicious beings. Too much compulsion and out-of-the-ordinary behavior would have the priests marching right to them.

"How dare he!"

Liam folded the paper he was drawing on and slipped it into his pocket as he turned around to see William barge through the door and slam it shut.

"What's wrong, master?" Liam asked, no inflections in his tone.

"That Baron Hastings—" William huffed, and his face was flushed with anger. "Not only did he laugh at my proposal to invest, he actually dared to convince others not to invest, saying it was a dupe!"

Liam said nothing. Even though he knew whoever this Baron was, he was correct.

"Your idea of this route was foolish!" William gritted out before he ripped off his hat. "I've had enough of this sham. Tonight, we will raid Baron Hasting's estate and take him for all he has."

"Yes, master," Liam tilted his head in acknowledgment. There was no use trying to refute anything William said when he was in this state. He was rather impressed since it was at least a decade since the last time he's lost his temper like this.

The raid had been like it was every other time. The smell of massacre stopped making him nauseous long ago. Liam prefers to kill the servants by snapping their necks and only taking a bite or two out of them, if only to appease William. The overindulgence was intoxicating for a few short years before Liam decided that the smell of their fear during the massacre didn't make them taste as good. William thought otherwise.

As he finished up, he could hear something outside at the stables, but it was mostly covered by the sound of the Baron's wife screaming bloody murder. She wouldn't stop even as William threatened to kill her slowly if she didn't silence herself.

Liam took off out the back. The Baron did well for himself, seeing a small stable holding three horses. He wondered who the third horse was for since the Baron and his wife had no children, and it couldn't have been for any of the servants.

Then he gazed upon something he wasn't sure he'd ever seen.

You were shaking and crying in your fine, silk-green gown. You were well-groomed and obviously spoiled with luxury.

A mistress of the Barons, perhaps? How bold of you to be here while his wife was. But Liam inhaled deeply and tilted his head in confusion. While he did smell the Baron on you intimately, he could also smell the wife in the same way. The wife's scent was all around you, over you, inside you.

Strange, Liam thought. He didn't know that was possible.

"Please..." you whispered, eyes closing as you could hear a woman's scream again, tears running down your eyes. But you don't continue your sentence.

His bones felt achy again.

"Can you read?" Liam asked, causing you to look up unsurely. You looked like you wanted to bolt to see if you'd make it, but you stayed rooted.

You nod shakily nonetheless. "Yes, a little. The Baron and his wife were teaching me."

Liam nodded. "Master won't teach me to read."

You swallowed, trembling. You obviously were confused as to why this...this demon was talking to you instead of killing you. "Have you asked?"

Liam shook his head. "He doesn't like it if I do other things. If I ask, he'll just be angry. He only taught me this language because it makes it easier for him."

You were gripping the horse's reins tightly. "If you don't want to follow him, why do you?"

There was a blank look as Liam stared at you. "Master made me as I am. I'm not strong enough to beat him."

"Have you tried?"

"If I try and fail, then I'll die."

"If he's too strong, then you need to be smarter. The Baron says being smarter and playing the long game is far better than being stronger."

The words settle upon Liam like a blanket. His eyes sparkle as if he knows that he's smarter, and despite being a mere human, it was like your permission to be so was all he needed.

There was a heavy, pregnant pause.

"You can leave," Liam told you, gesturing back to the screaming with his head. "If you leave now, the master will probably not notice you. But you can't leave with the horse as it will make too much noise. You must walk, not run. Your heart is already beating so loud and running will make it worse."

"I—" you started to say but choked. The tears that welled up in your eyes earlier fall over your already tear-stained face. "I can't leave without them."

Liam tilted his head. "Why not?"

"The baroness is screaming so I can leave," you told him, choking on your sob. "The moment we heard the break-in, The Baron pushed us both out the back, but the Baroness knew we both couldn't escape. She left me here and went back in."

"Then you should leave," Liam reasoned. "If she did it for you, you should live."

"Just to die another day," you muttered, wiping your tears. "How do you leave the first person to show you that kind of love? I—I can't. I should be in there too."

Liam ponders the words. He kind of understands. He loved his family as much as he could. It was hard to leave their bodies behind, but he kept moving because they had given him every last morsel so he could keep going.

And while you did not show him anything remotely close to love, you did show him something. And the ache in his bones made him feel like he shouldn't leave you behind. Playing the long game, as you said, will require time. And in the end, Liam knows he can't do it alone.

"Then die as a human and join them," Liam resounded before he blurred over to you and bit your neck, releasing his venom. There was no scream from your mouth, just your jaw dropping in shock. The taste of fear in your blood repulses him a little, but he hangs on, draining you. He was sorry—genuinely sorry—unlike his master, who warned him with false regret in his voice. Liam was sorry that your change would be painful.

When Liam felt your pulse nearly stop, he released you. He looked back at the house that was slowly becoming quieter. The screams quelled. He hopes you don't remember much of this.

Tonight, you'll die as a human and join the Baron and Baroness.

Then...then you'll wake up a demon, and the long game begins.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Natasha and Wanda feel breathless as they listen to Liam. You told them your side of the story when you were changed, which was very little as you didn’t recall much outside of waking up with a burning pain and smelled the massacre.

To hear it from Liam’s side was…they didn’t know how to describe it. It made them want to hunch over and scream.

"I watched her in secret for many, many years. I managed to drag William from town to town. Not too close, obviously. That's how Tatyana and William met, I believe. I thought that Tatyana would've joined to get rid of William, but..." Liam rubbed the back of his head and didn't finish the sentence. "When Tatyana died, and Elaine became close to that priest, I saw it as an opportunity. I needed to learn alchemy and that priest and his family were going to be the only way. So, I escaped and went into hiding. William eventually stopped looking and continued to travel further away from me."

"How were you even able to get close without alerting them?" David asks with a frown. "She would've sensed you for sure if you didn't have your alchemy tattoos yet."

Liam shakes his head. "Your senses don't react the same way when you're near your maker. When you said you can always sense the predator in a vampire, what's actually happening is your venom senses other venoms. Your venom is unique to you, but it did come from your marker. Therefore, you can't sense it very well because your venom sees it as an extension of itself. While venom is unique to yourself, it does recognize shared venom. When you bite someone, only your venom can fully counteract it. But anyone in the same venomline as you can delay the poisoning, like a partial healing."

"Huh," David hums, holding his chin. "You learn something new every day. That explains why I never felt any alarms or hackles rise when I saw her. I thought it was because I recognized her as a coven mate, but that makes more sense when vampires form their own coven by changing others versus outsiders banding together."

Liam nods, smiling at David before continuing his story. "I learned a lot from Leonard by just watching and listening to him teach his children. They continued their traditions and upheld alchemy for a very, very long time. Until a child came that didn't have a gift, and they couldn't bear any more children."

"Robert," Natasha realizes, recalling the priest they met in Nashville. Liam nods. "He said you were adopted. They must've adopted you and thought you were, what, 17 at the most? How did you manage that? You look..." Natasha trails. "Older."

"The documents I forged officially said so, but I did learn enough fundamentals of alchemy to experiment on my own to change some of my features," Liam reveals. "I think his grandfather suspected but never attempted to find out. I was a prodigy once I had proper teachings and although awkward, sincere."

"Did you know?" Wanda demanded immediately. "Did you know Tatyana was alive?"

Liam is silent initially. "I suspected," he admits. "I couldn't quite keep tabs on William after I escaped, but his behavior was strange weeks leading up to Tatyana's death."

"We couldn't find even a trace of them." Steve and Tony burst through the doors together, looking tired, angry, and defeated. The news of your disappearance sets off everyone in the room. Angry tears well up in Wanda's eyes, that feeling of loss at her door again.

And she is so, so fucking tired of losing.

"You knew," Wanda hisses at Liam, malice laced in her tone. Her lips were pursed, and her eyes narrowed in an accusatory manner. "You knew all along that Tatyana was alive and would eventually come after us."

Wanda's eyes began to glow, her magic manifesting around her in angry, red wisps. "You knew and you let Tatyana take her!" Her magic bursts towards Liam, grabbing him like a vice. His body stiffens and jerks in her hold as he releases a gasp of pain.

"Wanda, wait!" David calls out to her, but it doesn't register. He tries to grab Liam to pull him out of Wanda's grasp, but he can't get Liam to even budge. David turns to everyone else in the room, but everyone is conflicted about whether or not to step in after finding out the truth about Liam. Steve looks like he wants to step in, but the anger about losing you keeps you rooted. He wants answers, and if Wanda can get them from Liam, he'll stay in place with his arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed.

"Nat," David turns to the redhead instead, his eyes pleading. "Please. Liam must've had his own reasons for not saying anything. We need all the help we can get."

Natasha purses her lips. She'd be more than content to let Wanda rip Liam to shreds. She's so unbelievably angry to the point where it feels like hot needles are pricking her and boiling her blood. You were right there. You had been right there in front of her, and Natasha lost you. There was nothing she could've done to save you, and that's what makes Natasha the angriest.

But it's the years of experience—the training she's endured all her life— that she can put aside her emotions and be rational. Natasha gently places her hand over Wanda's clenched hand. The warmth of her skin makes Wanda look at her, the anger in her eyes slowly dimming as she stares into Natasha's gentle look.

The red glow disappears from Wanda's eyes, the wisp drawing back into her. She releases Liam from her grip, still glaring at him as he falls into David's arms. Liam's slightly hunched over, trying to regain his breath.

Natasha feels Wanda slip her hand into hers, and the warmth that seeps out is comforting. She coolly turns her head towards Liam, chin jutted upwards. "As much as I would like Wanda to give your comeuppance, you hold valuable information. You better have a plan or have some knowledge of how to save her and get rid of Tatyana for good."

Liam recovers from Wanda's attack as he gives a slight nod to David that he's okay and stands straight. "I had never intentionally planned for anyone to be kidnapped," he emphasizes, having the consciousness to at least look guilty. "I didn’t reveal myself because I wasn’t sure how Tatyana had been listening in. I truly believed that Tatyana was working with William to overthrow the humans. I'm not sure what changed, but it's clear that Tatyana abandoned William and had no intentions of creating sustainable creatures for his army again."

Natasha and Wanda look at each other for a brief moment. They recall the moment William had looked betrayed. The anger that rushed into William's eyes and the heat that pulsated through him—there was no way that was a part of their plans.

"Tatyana was able to recreate her body, but there definitely had to be a price paid," Liam continues. "I could feel something different about her, something not human. We need to find out exactly what she did to recreate her body because it was unlikely she was actually able to preserve it after she was killed. If we can find out, we can find a counter spell to undo it."

"That's if we can even stop her from using her magic," Natasha shakes her head. "Every time that woman casts a spell, we're always fucked."

"There has to be a spell to nullify her powers or stop her from using them," Liam thoughtfully says before sighing. "It's a shame we don't know any more witches. Usually, each coven has its own spell book."

"I'm sure I can figure something out," Wanda rubs her brow, a tiny headache forming. "Let's just form a plan first to find William and lure Tatyana out."

"In the case that there is another army waiting, we need to figure something out. If Tatyana won't create more vampires for William, he might just turn to the old fashion way of changing people. Even just a dozen of them will be troublesome for us, especially if they turn out to have gifts. The more time we lose, the more time he has to change people," Steve points out.

"What was that wood you said could kill you?" Tony asks David. "The...meth...metha...methu...the meth tree."

David gives Tony a look before he rolls his eyes. "Methuselah."

"That's what I said," Tony smirks. "If I can get my hands on a sample of it, I could probably turn it into something more effective to kill vampires...uh..." Tony paused. "Obviously not you guys, though. I'll work something out."

David wishes you were here to laugh at Tony. He lets out a deep sigh before he locks his eyes with Natasha and Wanda. "I'm going to find her," he promises them. "There isn't any place in the world Tatyana can hide her from me."

"How are you so sure?" Wanda frowns. She knows of his abilities, but Tatyana is a witch. They could be in a hut with no technology around.

David smiles, although sheepishly. "I have trackers in both her molars."

"What?!" Natasha narrows her eyes at David.

"It's fine!" David insists. "She knows, and I have trackers in both my molars too. Sometimes we do really stupid shit, and on two separate occasions, we couldn't find each other, and well—" David shrugs.

They all stare at him.

"Anyway, it's not always on," David says as if that should be obvious. "We just activate it when we can't find each other. I've reactivated it since we returned back here. It just takes some time to ping down a location even if I'm a technopath. The further she is, the longer it takes but we'll know soon."

They all continued to stare at him.

Tony finally opens his mouth to speak.

"You two are fucking weirdos."

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bucky-fricking-barnes · 1 year

Text

Until We Get Home

Title: Until We Get Home

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Verbal harassment and threats, language, mentions of alcohol and drinking

Summary: It’s 2am and you should be in bed, but you’re on the subway instead. Unfortunately, so is your ex.

A/N: This is based on the song “Another New York Love Story” from the musical “In Pieces”. As always, thanks for supporting me in all the ways you do. Lots of love, and thank you for reading!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Tara had promised you that dinner wouldn’t be more than a few hours, especially since you’d worked all day and you have work again tomorrow. It would be a few drinks, some food, and then maybe a little bit of catching up if the restaurant wasn’t too packed. The restaurant is packed, but it’s packed when you get there, so your college friend makes the executive decision to move your shindig to the bar across the street. That bar turns out to be a club that’s equally as packed as the restaurant, but clubs are supposed to be packed, so no one complains. You don’t complain either, considering you haven’t seen Tara and the others for almost four years.

I should’ve complained, you think. Maybe only a little, though.

The stairs down to the station seem to be moving as you climb down in your suddenly precarious heels, and it takes you a second at the bottom to right yourself. Maybe you had one drink too many. Despite your giddiness at spending so much time with your friends, you’re exhausted. It’ll be okay, though, because it’s two in the morning. There’s bound to be plenty of open seats on the train, meaning that you won’t have to stand for a little while—fourteen stops, to be exact. You’ve got some time to sober up.

You swipe your metrocard and board the train as soon as it arrives, then plop yourself down into a seat. It’s one of the cars with two long rows of chairs separated by an aisle, and the rest of your row is empty. Only three other people are in the car, and all of them ignore you as you get on. The older woman down the way continues to knit in silence, and you spy an airpod tucked behind her hair. It looks like she’s making some kind of underwear, if you’re being honest. You try not to stare.

A man a few seats down from you on the other side of the aisle stands grasping one of the metal poles. There’s nothing particularly interesting about him, but he looks about as tired as you feel. He stares out the window behind you at the station, then at the passing bricks and darkness when the train lurches into motion. The man sways a little as you move through the tunnels.

I’ll bet we all look like zombies right now. You half-heartedly try to fix your hair a little, but give up a minute later. It doesn’t really matter this early in the morning, anyway.

The third person is a young girl, young enough that your protective instincts kick. She’s hunched over in her seat with her bag in her lap, the picture-perfect vision of a girl who’s never ridden late at night before. She’s hyper vigilant and glances over when she feels your eyes on her. A pang of sympathy goes through you at the sight, and you make a mental note to make sure she stays unbothered while you’re riding.

Fourteen stops. No one gets on or off.

Thirteen stops. Still, no one gets on or off.

A few minutes later, the train slows to a stop at the next station. You look up from where you’ve been shuffling through the music on your phone, despite the fact that you’re just going to listen to the same song on repeat, then freeze as a new man enters the train. His stature is large, big enough to stand out in a crowd, but here on the train he seems like a behemoth.

Steve doesn’t take the subway, you think, but it’s definitely him. He’s wearing the same brown jacket and blue t-shirt that he wore on the first time he took you to Brooklyn, and though his golden hair is covered with a baseball cap and he’s got those stupid black-framed glasses on again, you’d know him anywhere.

The doors hiss shut as Steve takes one of the empty seats. He’s across the aisle from you, a few seats down but not as far as the woman knitting. Though he doesn’t look around, you know that he’s taking in his surroundings. He’s always hyper-aware of what’s around him.

There’s a book in his hand and you’re too far away to read the title, but you recognize the cover. It’s the one that you bought him from your favorite bookstore, the one that you still have a hard time going into because it makes you think of all the afternoons the two of you had spent wandering the aisles together.

Steve always said that New York was his city. It’s his home, his safe place, and his beating heart. Once, he’d told you that you were his beating heart. It’s hard to be in a city that reminds you so much of him. The pain never quite leaves, an ever-present ache in your chest as you go about your day. If you could break your lease, you’d leave, but that isn’t an option, at least right now. Instead, you’ve changed as much as you can. You don’t take the same routes to and from work anymore. You shop at a different grocery store, and you don’t eat Thai takeout from the place around the corner that he loves, no matter how many menus and coupons they put in the mailroom. Memories of him are in every monument, every crosswalk, and every tucked-away apartment. They come in on whispers of wind and the crash of trash cans outside your building, and they break your heart every single time.

As subtly as possible, you shift until you’re sitting at an angle, facing away from him. If you’re lucky, Steve won’t see your face and try to start a conversation. The two of you haven’t talked since he broke up with you in the lobby of the Avengers Tower months ago.

You’d come to bring him some lunch. He’d been on his way to tell you that he wasn’t ready for a relationship. While five months had been enough to make you certain that you could spend the rest of your life with him, it wasn’t enough for him. Steve’s words had cut deeper than any knife ever could. A small part of you wants to hit him in retaliation for the way he ended things, though you know your punch wouldn’t do much at all to him.

Only twelve stops, you tell yourself. You can do this. You can totally go unnoticed for twelve stops. Just sit very, very quietly.

The train starts moving again and you close your eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath. Thankfully, this car doesn’t smell as bad as some of the others you’ve been in. There’s movement in the aisle and you open your eyes to see the man approaching you. He’s leering, something between a creepy smile and sneer on his face, and you tense. You only have one earbud in, but even if you didn’t, you still would have been able to hear everything he says as he creeps towards you. It’s disgusting and your stomach churns. The girl down the way is watching with wide eyes and while you’re thankful it’s you and not her, you still don’t want to be in this situation.

He keeps his distance, thankfully, but he’s shouting at you in a way that makes you want to curl up and hide. His eyes are crazed as they look you up and down.

“You whore! You can go back to wherever you came from! You’re not gonna get my money! You’re not going to get anything from me, not until the boss tells me you’re dead!”

You try your best to ignore him, fidgeting with the cord to your portable charger and clutching your bag in your lap. There’s pepper spray inside, but you’re not sure if that would help. You refuse the instinct to curl in on yourself. The best thing to do is to stay strong, to look tough.

“I’ll bet you’re gonna go home to the boss and tell him all the nasty things we did together! That’s right, tell him all the things you want to do to me. I’ll bet you're ready for a good lay, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Steve’s closing the distance between you now. His book has disappeared from his hand and his posture is undoubtedly less casual than when he’d been sitting in his seat. You hadn’t even realized that he was watching you, but you suppose that outbursts on an almost empty subway are hard to miss. Part of you is grateful that he’s stepping in, but a small part of you rises up, indignant, and insists that you could’ve handled it yourself. You’ve handled worse.

“That’s enough,” Steve firmly tells him, positioning himself between you and the man. He’s like a brick wall, and you relax a little in his shadow. You can’t even see past Steve’s figure, and if you’re being honest, you’re trying not to look. His ass is right in your face, and if you look too much, you’re bound to say something utterly embarrassing about it when this is all over.

“You should leave her alone.”

“Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it?” the man taunts.

Steve draws himself up a little taller and you peek up to watch him remove the baseball cap and glasses. It only takes a second before the man retreats.

Captain America saves the day again.

Once the man is back on the other side of the train, Steve turns to you and you quickly look down before he can catch your eye. The screen of your phone is black now and your earbud has fallen out, sliding from your shoulder to your lap. Miraculously, it hasn’t fallen onto the floor of the train. You tuck it into your palm and make a fist.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice gentler. When you don’t answer, he tries again. “Y/N? Please just let me know if you’re okay.”

I don’t want to talk to you.

“I’m fine,” you finally respond. You force yourself to look up, unsure if you’re more grateful that he’s helped you or if you should roll your eyes at his inability to let someone else take over. Steve never was one to back down from a fight, even when it’s not his own.

He nods. “Good. I’m glad.” Steve pauses, grabbing onto one of the horizontal bars for balance as the train sways. “How have you been?”

You hold back a groan. Of course he wants to small talk.

“Okay. How about you?” you ask, not really wanting to hear his answer.

Please don’t say that you’ve been good, you tell him in your head.

He holds your gaze for a second before looking away, nodding a little bit more than necessary. “Good. I’ve, uh, I’m okay, too.”

He replaces his glasses and the hat before grabbing onto the bar again. You shift awkwardly in your seat and glance over at the girl. She’s watching the man warily, but the train stops again and he makes a quick escape. The girl relaxes, and so do you.

You glance up at the map as the announcements play in the car. Eight more stops to go.

“Why are you out this late?” Steve’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you look up at him from your seat. “You’re usually in bed at this time of night.”

“I went out for dinner with some friends,” you answer.

“Not Natasha?” Steve replies, like he already knows the answer, and you shake your head.

“Tara,” you tell him. “Lindsay and Mallory were there, too. Lizzy was supposed to come, but she got sick and decided to stay back at the hotel.”

Steve looks surprised. “You haven’t seen them in years. Why are they in town? Did you get to meet Mallory’s daughter?”

He remembers that she had a baby?

It takes you a second to process his questions. While Steve remembers a lot, it’s strange that he’d remember such specific details about your friends, especially after so long. It’s not important information. You’re certain that you only mentioned them a few times in the months you dated. You and your college friends don’t keep up except to send each other funny posts and videos.

“Um, no,” you stammer after a second, knowing that it’s been a little too long of a pause. You’ve made things awkward. “No, her husband stayed home with the baby while she’s in town. They have concert tickets for tomorrow, but they all flew in a day early to do some sightseeing. They asked if I wanted to go out to dinner after I got off work.”

Nodding, Steve searches your face, and you feel your cheeks warm under his steady gaze. You shift in your seat again, adjusting your grip on the earphone in your hand just to give yourself something to do.

“You look good, Y/N. Work’s going okay?”

You nod back and glance at the floor. There’s gum everywhere. Someone’s left a styrofoam takeout container underneath a seat.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s good. Yours is good too, from what I hear.”

His expression is neutral when you finally look up again. “I’m not dead yet,” he tells you. “That’s normally a good sign.”

You could get lost in his eyes. How is it that it’s been months and you’re still able to be drawn in so quickly? Steve has the kind of face that comforts, that reassures. You love that about him. It soothes your soul a little and washes away the last dredges of fear the man’s harassment had brought on.

You’ve been staring too long, your brain helpfully chimes. He’s just being friendly. Small talk and public relations are a part of his job.

You blink, then look back over at the map above the windows opposite you. “So where are you headed?” you ask.

“Manhattan,” Steve answers. When you look back at him, you get the answer to your next questions without even having to ask. You’re both getting off at the same stop, just like you always used to when he came to pick you up from work.

Clearing your throat, you look back down at your locked phone. “Right.”

Only three more stops. That’s not as long as it feels like.

Down the train, the girl grabs her backpack and exits the train. The doors hiss shut a moment later, and when you look up, you realize that the other woman has left, too. It’s just you and Steve on the train in the early hours of the day.

You swallow thickly and wrack your brain for something else to say. All you can come up with is, “It’s been pretty cold lately.”

Steve is quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I think Nat said something about it snowing this weekend.”

You nod and try not to fidget, try not to look nervous. Why is he still standing so close?

“She’ll like that,” you reply.

He nods again. “Yeah.” Steve pauses. “Tony won’t, though. He hates the snow.”

You nod again, then curse yourself for nodding so much. How many times has that been? You haven’t looked up in a while, should you look up again?

“So where did you have dinner tonight?” he asks.

“What?”

“You said you went out to dinner.”

“Oh. Right.” You look up, and when he doesn’t say anything more, you realize he’s still expecting an answer. “Oh. Um, well, we were going to go to this one place—Rio? But it was too busy, so we went to the bar across the street. Well, it’s more of a club than anything.”

Steve leans against the pole next to him, one hand still holding onto the railing above him. “Tuscano, right? I’ve been there.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’ve been to a club?”

“It wasn’t so bad,” he answers, though there’s a hint of a blush on his cheeks. When your expression doesn’t change, he explains, “It was Tony’s birthday a few weeks ago. He insisted we go to as many clubs as possible in one night—something about him and Pepper taking a break? We were only there for twenty minutes, I think, but it was long enough.”

Nodding, you relax and smile a little at the mental image of Steve standing in Tuscano. “Sounds like a fun night.”

“Something like that. I think I’ve been to Rio, too. It’s not too crowded if you go for lunch.”

Steve carries on the conversation like it’s easy. It probably is. He’s friendly in a way that reminds you a little too much of how he talks with strangers and fans. He doesn’t once ask you anything too personal, nor does he bring up anything about your last interactions or the months you dated. It stings, thinking that you mattered nothing to him in retrospect, but when he glances out the window at the second-to-last stop, you catch a glimpse of something you hadn’t noticed before—sadness.

You recognize it immediately. You’ve seen that same look in your eyes every time you’ve looked in the mirror since Steve broke up with you. You feel it every time you pass by the bookshop or hear about him and the other heroes on the news or in conversation. Every time you pass by the corner deli he likes or the vintage candy store, you think of him, and it twists the knife just a little.

A small part of yourself asks, “What if he misses you just as much as you miss him?,” but you’re too afraid to entertain that thought for long. You want to tell him. You want to tell Steve everything, starting with how much you miss him, but you can’t. That wouldn’t be fair—not to him, and definitely not to you. You’re working hard to recover from being disposed of, and another rejection could be the final blow. You push the thoughts away, willing yourself not to speak up.

The two of you ride in silence until your stop, and you follow Steve off the train and up the stairs without a word. When you reach the sidewalk, you get out of the flow of traffic and stand together, both of you with your hands in your jacket pockets. It’s strange to be standing here with him again, but you don’t want to leave yet, and you busy yourself by glancing at your phone to see if you have any missed calls. You don’t, but your music has been playing this whole time. You wonder if Steve could hear it the whole time.

Silently, you pause the song and unplug the portable charger, then tuck your earphone into its case. Steve watches you as you arrange your belongings.

“Y/N…”

“Whatever you’re about to say,” you say, stopping him before he can go any further, “Please just know that you… I’m having a really hard time with this.” You gesture between the two of you and break eye contact, knowing that you won’t be able to hold his gaze while you say this. You inhale deeply through your nose and close your eyes for a second before focusing yourself on a building across the street. “I can’t have my heart broken again by you, Steve. It was too hard the first time, and I’m still getting over it.”

Strangers walk past as you blink away tears. The light turns red and cars roll to a stop. Somewhere down the street, a siren wails. Footsteps sound in chorus all around you in the city that never sleeps, though a hush has fallen over the sleeping public, as if the world is holding its breath just for a moment.

“Me too,” Steve says. “And I’m sorry.”

You sniffle. “What?”

“Can I walk you home?” he asks. “It would make me feel better to know you got home safely after what happened on the train.”

You pause, taken aback by the question, but after a few seconds, you nod and wipe your eyes, a little embarrassed.

Steve moves forward and you turn around, naturally falling into step beside him as he heads towards your apartment building. The sidewalks are less crowded than normal, but you walk together in silence, side-by-side, until you reach the door to the building’s mailroom. It takes all your willpower not to reach out and take his hand as you walk.

”I’m sorry for what I said. I was… I was scared and I panicked, and that’s not an excuse, but I didn’t think I was ready to be in a relationship. I’m in love with you, Y/N, and that scared me. I didn’t think that I should fall as hard and as fast as I did for you. It felt too dangerous, but now I realize that it wasn’t a bad thing. Being with you feels like being home, and that’s something I’ve been searching for for a long time,” Steve says.

You shake your head a little. “What?”

He searches your face, mouth gaping a little, before finally answering with, “I’m in love with you.”

“But you broke up with me,” you say, feeling a bit lost. It’s like he’s taken the script in your head and completely flipped it upside down. What are you supposed to say?

“I know,” he replies. Steve looks down at his shoes and rubs the back of his neck. “Y/N, I— I’m sorry. I don’t think anything I could ever do will make up for what I said and what I did, but I want to try.”

You press your lips together and look over at the glass door that leads inside. You could go. It would be easy to leave him standing outside your building, and you know that if you told Steve to never talk to you again, he’d listen. You’d never hear from him ever again. A tiny voice tells you to do that, to pull away from him before he inflicts even more pain.

He kisses you on the cheek.

Your eyes fly to his, and there’s guilt flooding the blue that’s always been a safe haven to you.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

You shake your head. You’re not angry. You’re…

“I love you too.” The words you’ve wanted to say for so long are finally out in the open, hanging between you in the night air.

“You do?” he asks, and you nod.

“I do.”

A smile appears on his face, your heart settles a little in your chest, and then you realize what it is that you’re feeling.

I’m home, you think, and you smile back.

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