#and he had stopped trying to be the same ‘America’s Golden Boy’ he was back in the 40s

[lunar-nebulari]

My past hyperfixations are creeping up on me in this dead of night but NOT A SINGLE MALE MARVEL FAN KNOWS CAPTAIN AMERICA LIKE THEM BITCHES THAT MADE/READ FICS BACK IN THE DAY KNOW HIM

[rogerswifesblog]

Keep you quiet

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Steve and you never liked each other. You always bickered, even on missions-which brought you in this situation; on you knees.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Steve Rogers x reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: enemies/rivals to...lovers?, smut, oral [M receiving], dom/sub undertones, Dom!steve, sub!reader, slightly mean Steve, size kink?, dumbification/degradation kink, slight Captain kink [blink and you miss it], dry humping, boot humping,  rough oral, rough treatment, face-fucking, cum swallowing, semi-public, allusion to threesome Tell me if I need to add anything

Keep in mind English is not my first language!

Don’t forget to like, comment and reblog!

18+

You leaned against the wall, hiding from the HYDRA agents, that were shooting at you and Steve.

And apparently it was your fault. That's what Steve said....which also meant you were arguing even more than before.

"-you were supposed to follow my lead and not-" "Steve just stop-" "It's Captain!"

You scoffed. How could anybody go voluntarily on a mission with Steve? You were definitely not one of those people. On every mission you've been with Steve endet the same-you two screaming at each other, always being at each other's throats.

"You can't report me! You know exactly Fury won't do anything-because there is nothing do to", you snarled, while grabbing Steve's arm, so he would stop his pacing. You were in one of the conference rooms, trying to change his mind about reporting you-again.

Angrily Steve looked down at you. "I can't report your behaviour! You always question my decision and-" "because these decisions are always stupid!"

Steve snorted. He slowly shook his head. "Unbelievable. You're...insufferable. I'm your Captain-you've to listen, don't you get that? I.am.your.supervisor", he growled while grabbing your arm tightly. Immediately you backed away, but he didn't let go of your arm.

He pulled you closed against him. You could feel the warmth radiating from him. Your breath hitched. "And? Doesn't mean shit to me", you yelled in his face. In only made him angrier. You could see it in his eyes. He pulled you straight against his chest. You could feel his chest raising against yours-his steady, deep breathing. It made your heart race. He smelled so good. How have you never noticed that?

Steve tuts, shaking his head in disappointment. He couldn't believe how you talked back to him. It's not the first time-but it never annoyed him as much as it did today. Because of you, the two of you had nearly been shot today. You were always talking back-that's the reason why the agents noticed you two were in there.

"Why can't you just be quiet for once in your life? Is it that hard?", he mumbled close to your lips. You could feel his breath on you lips. His smell was everywhere, his warm hand still holding your arm...

He was everywhere. It's like he took over all your senses. Slowly you looked up, into his dark eyes. "Maybe you have to make me be quiet", you mumbled, while one of your hands slowly found it's way to his belt. You pulled him in closer.

It's all it took for Steve to break. Roughly he pressed his lips to yours. You couldn't stop yourself from moaning into the kiss.

You've always been curious how Steve kissed. The sweet, sweet golden boy of America. He had to have a scandalous side, he'd never show to the world-The one that he'd never show anyone-unless he'd get to his breaking point. You wanted to do that. Push him to the edge.

Slowly you started rubbing your hand over his raging boner. Steve was hard enough for you to feel how big he was. You couldn't wait to see him. His massive dick. The thought alone made your mouth water.

Steve seemed to notice your eagerness, which made him chuckle against your lips. "It's all it takes for you to be quiet? Just thinking about a big dick to fill you", he mumbled, which made you nod immediately. "Yes, yes I want you to f-", he grabbed your hair roughly, which made you swallow all the words you had left in you. "Much better..I thought I made it clear I want you to be quiet", he whispered against your lips. "I guess I need to silent you some other way", Steve grinned slightly, while his free hand finished what you started; opening his suit trousers and sliding them down with his boxershorts.

You looked down at his dick and-

Fuck.

He was huge, veiny and....just massive. You've never sucked someone this big-and you've definitely never felt someone like him split your pussy open. You needed to. You wouldn't be able to concentrate on any missions or anything else, knowing how big Steve was. How his dick would tear your pussy open.

You wanted to trace the pulsing veins with your tongue. Feel his weight and girth in your mouth. You wanted to taste him so, so bad. Watch him lose himself in the feeling of your wet mouth.

Before you could think about anything else, Steve roughly pushed you to your knees and let his hand slide out of your hair to your jaw. He roughly grabbed your cheeks and forced your mouth open. His other hand stroked over his leaking tip, the leaking pre-cum dripped on your cheek, while he let his tip slide along your lips. Instinctively you stuck your tongue out.

Steve chuckled darkly. "Not a single thought behind those pretty eyes, huh?", his tone was deliciously dark and rough. You nodded slowly, looking up at him.

"Such a smart mouth...let's see if you can actually do something good with it." With that he pushed his tip past your lips, making you lick around his leaking slit. He moaned lowly, pushing his dick further into your mouth. His tip hit the back of your throat, which made you gag-yet he pushed right through it, till your nose touched his pubic hair. You could feel yourself getting wet.

The size of his dick stretched your lips. Steve's loved seeing you like this. Tears formed and threatened to spill as his cock constantly hit the back of your throat, while he started fucking your mouth roughly.

His hand grabbed your hair again, to guide your movements. There was no mercy in his rough treatment...and you felt a wet spot forming on panties, probably wetting them through.

"That's a much better use for your mouth, sweetheart", Steve chuckled darkly. He pulled out of your mouth and let the tip of his dick slide along your lips, coating them with even more salvia and precum. He pushed the head of his cock back into your mouth. You hollowed your cheeks, which made him moan. "Oh god, such a good girl", he mumbled while starting to thrusting into your mouth again.

Salty tars spilled from your eyes, adding to the mess of precum and salvia on your face. You were sure your mascara left dark spots on your skin.

You couldn't stop yourself from letting one of your hands slide to your throbbing crotch.

Of course Steve noticed this immediately, so he kicks your hand lightly away. "Come on sweetheart, you don't want to tempt me, do you?", he grinned while he pushed his dick deeper into your throat. You gaged around him, which made him moan.

"You know, since you're treating me so good right now, I can make an exception this time", he mumbled while letting his boot glide between your legs, nudging them slightly apart, so you could sit on his leg.

With wide eyes you looked up at him, asking. "Come on, sweetheart, you know what to do", he smirked.

Slowly you started to grid on his leg-which made you moan around his length. It felt good to feel some friction against you throbbing pussy. It would probably feel better if you were naked, but this had to do it. And it definitely would do it. "I want you to cum, baby, right with me", Steve moaned, letting his dick feel your throat once again.

While Steve thrusted into your mouth coating your tongue with his taste, you grid over his leg. "So desperate", Steve mumbled. "I'm gonna cum, sweetheart." He could feel the knot building in his abdomen, which made him thrust into your mouth harder. "And you're gonna swallow everything."

You felt his dick twitch and moaned around him, while rubbing yourself harder against his leg. Steve cried out in pleasure and thrusted into your throat, coating your walls with his cum. His veins pulsed against your tongue and you couldn't stop yourself from licking around them.

One last time you pressed your core against Steve's leg. Your orgasm crushed over you, making you moan around him. Steve pushed his leg even fiercer to your pussy, feeling your cunt pulsing against him making a mess.

He wished he could bury his dick in your tight hole.

How tight you'd be around him? Your pussy would choke his dick, while he would be splitting you open. He needed to feel you. Needed to fuck you. Right here-right here on the table.

Steve pulled out of your mouth. Some cum leaked out of your mouth, but he gathered it with his thumb and wiped it on your lips. Instantly you licked you lips and looked up with tears eyes. It made Steve grin, while he pulled you up. Your legs were a bit wobbly, so he had to hold you. "No sassy remarks?", Steve mumbled against your lips, before kissing you and pushing you on the closest table. You let him do whatever he wanted to. You couldn't wait for him to fuck you. Nothing else mattered right now.

Steve's hand found your clothed core, rubbing along your folds. "Oh sweetheart you're so wet. Can't wait for me to give you, huh? Is this all you need to be happy? Having a big dick feel your holes?", he mumbled against your throat. You started nodding. "Yes, yes..please, Captain", you cried out when his fingers rubbed against your clothed clit. Steve chuckled darkly, while kissing your throat. "So that's what you needed to call me Captain, huh? I guess I'll have to fuck you before and after every mission till you learn your lessons."

He started opening your pants, but stopped immediately when he heard someone coming closer. Quickly he pulled his pants back on. You didn't understand why he backed of so fast but when you heard the door open, you immediately wiped your face clean and tried to brush you hair with your fingers. Nevertheless you felt like everyone could tell what happened, especially when someone would look at your swollen and puffy lips.

Steve grabbed your arm once again and pulled you closer against him. "You'll come to my room in an hour and we'll finish what we started", he whispered hotly in your ear, while Bucky entered the room.

Steve let go of your arm and stepped a few steps away from you. Without giving a verbal answer you nodded quickly and walked past Bucky, on who you had a crush for a while and definitely didn't want him to see you like this. He wasn't supposed to know you just sucked his best friends dick..even though the idea of him finding out made your pussy throb even more.

Bucky watched you walk out of the room and then back to Steve. "She was awfully quiet", he grinned slightly. Steve couldn't stop himself from grinning and giving him a knowing look. "I'm pretty sure she needs another lesson and it would great if someone could help me with that", Steve said raising one eyebrows.

Buckys grin widened. „Then I think we shouldn't let her wait." With that the two super soldiers left the conference room.

Pt 2

That’s it! I hope you liked it, let me know!!

Some feedback?

Don’t forget to like, comment and reblog!

Requests are open!

[metalhoops]

Steddie Week Day 4:

Familiar / Hurt/Comfort / Here Come the Tears by Judas Priest

Eddie and Steve had never been close before the world went to hell. They’d known of each other, as everyone knows everyone in small town, middle America. They’d gone to the same school, smoked behind the same abandoned buildings and knew all the best places to make the worst decisions, but they hadn’t done it together. They were disparate figures, drifting around each other’s edges. That all changed in 1986 when through fate or chance the two boys had been flung together. 

By the summer of 1988, they’d grown into and around each other like vines beneath forest foliage. They’d become inseparable, familiar. Steve showed up outside the garage at closing time, the Beamer tearing down the gravel path, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. When Robin and the kids weren’t around, Steve drove fast, throwing caution to the wind. No one else knew that about him. Eddie did. 

He didn’t know what to do with all of the pieces of Steve that were uniquely his. He felt the illogical urge to write them down, catalogue each one as though designing a character for a new campaign. He wanted a record of each minute detail of Steve. 

“Your yuppie boyfriend’s tearin’ up the drive again, Manson,” Eddie's boss, Frankie, hollered from his spot behind the service desk. 

In the year he’d worked at the garage, he’d never seen the guy move from behind his desk, yet his hands were always grease-stained. Eddie hated his boss, but the job paid well enough. He was saving up to high tail it out of Hawkins, where nicknames like ‘The Freak’, and Frankie’s newest addition ‘Manson’, as in that Manson, the one with the cult in the 60s, weren’t so widespread. 

“I was off twenty minutes ago, Frankenstein. You want him to stop kickin’ up dust you could just let me off on time,” Eddie grumbled, grabbing a spare rag and trying to scrub the worst of the grease and engine gunk from his hands and overalls.  

“You think that carburettor was going to replace itself? You wanna finish on time? Work faster,” Frankie noted, punctuating his point by kicking his feet across the desk. Charming. 

Eddie made his way to the car, drummed his knuckles against the passenger door and waited as Steve leaned over to push it open, his precious seats covered haphazardly with one of Eddie’s ruined bandannas. This was their habit, how the two worked. Steve was wearing sunglasses, which usually meant he was fighting off a migraine. They’d been more frequent in recent months. Eddie blamed the hot weather. 

“How was your day?” Steve asked, starting the car.

Eddie flopped into the passenger seat and groaned. He let his body lay slack and boneless as the leather seats cradled him and the cool air from the A.C. took his breath away.

“That good, huh?” 

“Everyone’s cars decided to break down on the hottest day of the year and Frankenstein’s still giving me shit about being a cult leader. I think the dude used to hold out hope for you since you were the town's golden boy, but now he thinks there’s some kind of Stepford wife thing going on.” 

Steve snorted as he turned onto the familiar street leading to The Harringtons’ house. 

“I saw Dustin today. The kid wanted me to remind you, you’re picking the twerps up on Monday,” Steve informed, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. The guy had no sense of rhythm, but Eddie never had the heart to tell him. 

“Remind me why you can’t,” Eddie muttered as Steve’s house came into view. 

“Because I work late and you get off by two.” 

“I thought you said my van was a ‘death trap’. I could always take your car,” Eddie proposed with a devilish smirk. 

That car was Steve’s baby. Not even he was allowed to drive it, save that one night in Indianapolis when Steve was drunk and Robin broke her wrist. They’d spent five hours together in the emergency room. It’d brought back all the wrong kind of memories for Steve and Eddie could tell. 

Steve and Eddie talked about everything except Eddie’s stay in hospital and defining the liminal space between platonic and romantic, their relationship had been drifting for the past six months.  

“In your dreams, Munson. You staying at mine tonight?” Steve asked, pulling up and walking around to open Eddie’s door for him. 

He always made excuses about Eddie getting engine oil all over the passenger door, but he thought Steve liked playing chivalrous in the same way he liked playing up his less-than-stellar reputation.  

Steve kept asking him to spend the night. Eddie had his own drawer in Steve’s room. He couldn’t help but feel like he was asking him to move in. Eddie kept turning him down, not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life in Hawkins, even if it was with Steve. He’d tried to convince himself he’d be able to do it, so they could get out of their goddamn stalemate and get on with the rest of their lives. Yet, Hawkins had always been inhospitable for the likes of people like him and the person Steve was becoming.

“If you’re cookin,” Eddie agreed, unbuttoning his overalls.

By the time Steve found his keys, Eddie had managed to strip the sweat-slicked clothes from his body and dumped them unceremoniously on the front stoop. The good thing about rich people’s houses? No neighbours for miles. 

They followed the same old routines. Eddie made his way upstairs to shower while Steve started prepping for dinner. Once Eddie didn’t smell like the inside of a boys' locker room, he returned to find Steve spaced out in the kitchen. 

Eddie’s heart was a hummingbird in flight. Steve’s body was stock still, his eyes a thousand miles away. 

“Steve,” Eddie breathed, signalling his approach. 

He tried to focus on the kitchen. This wasn’t two years ago. Vecna was dead. 

He laced his fingers into the crook of Steve’s elbow and finally caught the boy’s attention, the pot on the stove having boiled dry. 

“Migraine?” Eddie asked as Steve’s eyes snapped shut, frown lines marring the landscape of his forehead. 

“Yeah,” Steve confirmed through gritted teeth as Eddie guided him to the couch, switching off the lights on the way.

“Looks like you’re going to have to put up with the Munson special then, eggs on toast,” He breathed, sitting down beside Steve and guiding his head into his lap. 

He’d sat through a couple of Steve’s migraines. Sometimes they were fast and painless as a sun shower, other times he’d spend hours disorientated and puking up his guts. There wasn’t much Eddie could do for him, but sit there and be with him for it. In sickness and in health, all that crap. Eddie wasn’t sure when he’d become close enough to Steve that he’d sit through anything with him, but he knew now he would. 

“Stevie, you know when I get outta this hellhole, I’m taking you with me, right?” Eddie breathed, feeling the sudden need for candour. 

Sometime in the space between getting to know Steve and getting to love Steve, they’d crossed the line from familiar to familial.

Steve’s face nudged against Eddie’s palm, his forehead beaded with sweat. 

“I’d like that,” he confirmed. 

“We’d have to take Robin with us, though,” Steve added after a beat, causing Eddie to let out a breathy chuckle and dip down to press their foreheads together.  

“Fine by me, long as you’re there.” 

[sebastianstanisahotmf]

Overlooked

Steve Rogers x reader

A/N This fic is about how overlooked Steve's trauma was in the films. It's just my opinion since he definitely would have had struggles but they weren't really seen in the films. Once again this is just my opinion. Idk if I like this though so I might delete it. I'm not sure though. Also, all mistakes are my own so if you see any feel free to comment them and likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated.

18+ MINORS DNI, THERE'S NOTHING EXPLICIT IN THIS FIC BUT IT DEALS WITH HEAVY THEMES

Summary Steve is struggling and you convince him to get help

DO NOT REPOST ON ANY OTHER APPS/SITES. THE ONLY PLACE THIS FIC IS ON IS TUMBLR.

Warnings Fluff, angst (a lot), allusions to being suicidal kinda (if these things trigger you in any way then please don't read it)

Steve was your everything. He was the reason you woke up with a smile every day. You trusted him with your deepest secrets and he does the same with you. That’s how you got into the position you were in. 

Steve was lying on your chest while you ran your fingers through his soft hair as he sobbed. It broke your heart to see him in such a state but, there was nothing you could do but hold him until the crying stopped. 

This wasn’t an unusual situation for the both of you to be in. This broke your heart when you came to that realisation since it made you think of how much you saw Steve in such a state.

It was because of Steve being misunderstood by everyone. Everyone saw America’s golden boy who bravely fought in WWII and continues to fight for justice. They saw his best friend -formerly the winter soldier- fighting his inner demons and PTSD. 

What they didn't see was the man who was scared to admit he was tortured by memories as well. They didn’t see the man who had nightmares almost every night. They didn’t see the man who would cry for hours on end thinking about the people he watched die, the people he was too late to save, the people he thought he should have swapped places with. 

They might not have seen that, but you did. You saw the look of pure horror on Steve’s face after each nightmare, you saw the way his hands trembled and you saw the way Steve would try to fight back the tears. You saw everything. 

Steve was so thankful to have you in his life. You brightened his day and made life worth living. Especially in moments like these.

His arms were wrapped around you as he snuggled into your chest. The blanket was over his head; a cocoon of safety, protecting him from the outside world. 

As his sobs turned into whimpers and his breathing evened out, you slightly lifted the blanket so you could look at your boyfriend.

“Do you wanna talk about it baby?” you questioned.

“Could y-you just hold m-me for a bit l-longer?” he replied.

“Of course I can,”

You stayed like that for a while before a thought entered your mind.

“How about we tell Dr Cho or Banner about this Stevie.”

“W-why?” He stuttered, trying not to panic.

“Because babe it hurts me to see you in such a state, especially as often as it has been happening lately.”

“It’s not that bad doll. Bucky’s got it worse,” he responded.

“Maybe he has, but that doesn’t take away from your struggles.”

“B-but what will everyone think? I’m supposed to be Captain America, the man with a plan. Their symbol of hope,” he said, starting to hyperventilate.

“Look at me, Steve,” he lifted his arms so he was resting on them and facing you, “Breathe with me,” you took slow, deep breaths in through your nose and let them out through your mouth.

Steve started to copy you and in no time, he was back to breathing normally.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time baby. Nobody is,” 

“B-but-”

“It’s okay to have struggles. You have every right to ask for help. You went through a war, lost your best friend and then woke up seventy years into the future. If anyone deserves to get help it's you.”

Steve looked at you with pure admiration and love in his eyes. 

“I love you so much, doll.” He leaned in to kiss you, it was so gentle and full of love.

“I love you too Stevie, that’s why I want you to get help. Please. I’ll go with you if you want and I’ll be there for you. Every step of the way.”

“You’re perfect darling,” Steve replied, laying back down on your chest.

“So does that mean you’re going to ask Dr Cho or Banner for help then?” you asked hopefully.

“Yeah, I will do it tomorrow,” Steve looked up at you and then continued in a voice so small and innocent it almost didn't sound like him, “Will you still come with me?”

“Of course I will babe,” you responded with a smile.

_________________________________________

The next day, you woke up to Steve kissing you on the cheek and smiling at you. 

“Good morning, doll,” he whispered.

“G’morning baby,” you replied, kissing him.

“I already booked an appointment with Banner at 1:15pm.” He told you with a smile on his face.

You pulled him down to kiss you, “I’m so proud of you Stevie,” you kissed him again, “so proud.”

Steve’s cheeks had gone red from the praise. Then, he got up and went into the bathroom, leaving you alone in bed with a big smile on your face. 

Once Steve came out of the bathroom, you went inside while he went into the kitchen to make the both of you some coffee and pancakes.

Maybe Steve was struggling but he had you and that’s all that mattered. You gave him purpose and someone to love and he would forever be thankful for that.

Taglist: @buckys-wintersoldier, @nicoline1998enilocin

if you want to join my taglist just click on the link

Also, if you want to see the things that I repost then you can follow my other account @sebastianstanisahotmf-reblogs

[haveanotherfandomblog]

Avengers Preferences

How You Meet

Masterlist

Captain America/Steve Rogers-

Working for the infamous Nick Fury was a hard job as it was. Now working for him as and being his goddaughter was a whole other level of difficult. Behind closed doors, he was gentler and loving in his own, unique way. However, in public, it was strictly professional. You didn’t receive any special treatment and were held to the same standard as every other agent. You didn’t mind, it was how it was and you were understanding.

Fury had been proud and excited when you decided to become a SHIELD agent. As you quickly rose through the ranks, you began working closely with Phil Coulson and Maria Hill. You also worked closely with Hawkeye and Black Widow. In fact, they were the ones who recommended you for the Avengers Initiative. Fury protested at first because of Tony Stark, but with some help from Hill and Coulson, he relented.

To welcome you and bring some positive light to himself, Tony Stark threw one of his legendary parties. Opting for a more modest look, especially considering your godfather was there, you wore a dress that stopped at your knees and some comfortable flats. You kept your makeup minimal and natural as well. After you were satisfied with your appearance, you made your way to the party.

The party was indeed just as grand and lavish as everything Tony Stark did. People mingled about, barely acknowledging you despite the party being in your honor. You didn’t really care though. You knew they were just here for the free booze. You pushed your way to the bar where you saw Natasha and Maria talking.

“Ladies,” you greeted. They smiled and waved you over, handing you a glass full of sparkling liquid.

“Hey, you look cute,” Maria said. You smiled, tilting your head.

“Well, it was this or sweats,” you jested. Natasha let out a snort, smirking behind her glass.

"Ah! Here she comes. The woman of the hour," Clint announced. You playfully rolled your eyes.

“There she is! The woman of the hour!” Clint announced as he made his way to you. You playfully rolled your eyes. He waved over two figures. “Y/N, meet Dr. Banner and Thor.” Dr. Banner was a small man with glasses who looked completely uncomfortable. His hair was a curly mess as he rubbed his hands together, eyes darting in every direction. Thor seemed more at ease in this environment. He gave you a big smile, grasping your hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, his voice booming over the loud music and other party-goers. He was a giant compared to everyone with long, blonde hair.

“The pleasure’s all mine,” you replied. The six of you engaged in small talk, well, more like you Maria. Natasha and Dr. Banner had some weird, and slightly awkward flirting thing going on between them that you wanted absolutely nothing a part of. And Clint and Thor were trying to outdrink each other. Though from the look of it, Thor was winning easily.

After a while, Phil came up to congratulate you. He nodded towards the other side of the room where you spotted Fury talking to America’s own golden boy, Captain America. Though they appeared deep in conversation, Fury waved you over. Phil gave you a pat on the back as he replaced your spot next to Maria.

“L/N. I want you to meet your new leader, Captain Rogers. Rogers, this is your newest recruit, Agent Y/N L/N.” You nodded your head, sticking your hand out. He grasped your hand, shaking it firmly. His hands were surprisingly soft--just like his baby blue eyes. He gave you a boyish grin, causing you to smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Agent L/N,” he told you.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Captain Rogers,” you replied. He gave you a boyish grin, scratching behind his ear.

"Please, call me Steve."

"Y/N."

Iron Man/Tony Stark-

Most people spent their Friday nights at the bars, getting wasted with friends and hitting on strangers. Not you though, you worked well into the night. You were at the bar too, but you were behind the counter, watching as everyone made fools of themselves. Though, you didn’t usually work on Friday nights, but your coworker had convinced you to cover their shift, a stupid decision on your part. While the amount of money you would make would be amazing, having hundreds of people scream for your attention wasn’t.

This Friday night was no different than any other. Loud, drunk adults slurred their orders to you as they attempted to flirt with each other. The night seemed to drag on as you continued to make drinks and throw away napkins with scribbled numbers on them. And as the night progressed, and the crowd around the bar slowly but surely diminished, you were able to relax somewhat. You were just about done with creeps staring at your tits.

You were cleaning a glass when someone called for you. You set the glass down and turned around, throwing the rag over your shoulder. If you weren’t so tired, you probably would have choked on air when you saw Tony Stark: genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and freaking Iron Man sitting at your bar. You walked over to him, resting your forearms on the bar.

“What’s your poison, sweetcheeks?” you asked. He licked his lips, peering over the rim of his glasses at you. You quirked a brow, staring at him expectantly.

“I’ll have your best whiskey--neat.” You nodded, turning to pour him his desired drink. Despite his television persona, the man at least had taste. You handed him his drink, watching as he took a long sip. He nodded his head approvingly. “This is perfect. You know, I could give you my best later. Though I can’t promise it’ll be neat,” he said with a wink. You let out a snort, shaking your head.

“Sorry sweetcheeks, but you’re gonna have to do better than that. I thought you were a playboy?” you teased. He chuckled, shooting you a wink. You didn’t see him much after that, he seemed to have disappeared from the bar, probably in the arms of some hot, blonde, model. You shook your head, continuing to clean the counter. Guys like him didn’t go for girls like you. Not seriously.

Your shift finally ended when the bar closed around two o’clock. Relief flooded your body as you collected your tips and clocked out. You bade your coworker a good night and began your trek home. While you were walking under the streetlights, your skin began crawling. You looked around but couldn’t see anyone around you. Quickening your pace, you marched on, your purse clutched in your hand.

You were almost to the front stoop of your apartment when a pair of arms wrapped around your body, yanking you into a dark alley. One of the hands covered your mouth while the other was wrapped securely around your arms and body.

“Hey baby. Wanna have some fun?” slurred a voice. You rolled your eyes despite the danger you were in. You struggled to break his grip on you, but he was a lot stronger than he appeared. “Calm down baby, I’m not gonna hurt you.” His breath reeked of alcohol, making you want to gag.

“Maybe not, but if you don’t let her go, I’m going to hurt you.” The drunk let go of you and scampered away. You fell back against the nearby wall, taking deep breaths.

“Thank you, so much,” you said, turning your head. You certainly weren’t expecting to see Iron Man standing on the sidewalk outside the alley way. His face lifted up, revealing Tony Stark beneath the mask.

“So… about my previous offer.” You shot him a harsh glare. He held his hands up, taking a step back. “Kidding, although, I should at least get your number. You know, in case you need me to save you again.” You rolled your eyes but pulled your lipstick out of your bag anyway, writing your number on the arm of his suit.

Hulk/Dr. Bruce Banner-

After the New York incident, your brother, Clint Barton, had been very adamant about you moving in with him. Well, he actually wanted you to move in with Laura, but you refused to live on a farm. Tasha and your brother had helped you move from your tiny apartment to your room at the compound, located conveniently next to Clint’s.

Tony came to help as well. As well as to see one of his favorite college buddies. Oh yes, you, him and Rhodey had all gone to college together, though you were a few years younger than them. He’d been more than happy to hear you’d be moving into the tower.

Once everything had been unpacked and put into its place and you were settled, Clint took you up to meet the rest of your housemates. They were all waiting around in a lounge room with Tony, naturally, in the center of the crowd, talking animatedly about himself.

“Mini Me!” he cried when he saw you. He dramatically sauntered over to you, wrapping you in a hug. Your brother, usually not fond of men near you, had no problem with Tony. You returned his hug. “A pleasure to have you finally join us.” You chuckled, detangling yourself from him. Clint wrapped his arm around your shoulders, guiding you to the rest of the Avengers.

“Guys, this is my sister, Y/N. Y/N, this is Steve Rogers, Thor, and Dr. Bruce Banner.”

“It’s great to finally meet you all,” you told them, flashing them your dazzling smile. “Clint has told me so much about you guys.” Thor was the first to approach you, pressing a quick kiss to the back of your hand.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Y/N.” You let out a giggle, covering your cheek.

“Oh, I like you.” He flashed you a bright smile which you happily returned. Steve said hello, offering you a simple handshake. Bruce was more timid, giving you a curt nod and a small wave. You found his semi-flustered state cute, and it kind of melted your heart.

“So, uh, what’s the story behind Tony’s nickname for you?” Steve inquired. Before you could reply, Tony was wrapping his arm around your shoulders, answering for you.

“Well you see, Capsical, this marvelous, young woman here is party central. You guys thought I was crazy--this girl--this girl is crazier. Her knowledge of alcohol is unbelievable and her ability to attract the male gaze is unbeatable.” Clint glared at that last part, rolling his eyes. You brushed Tony’s arm off, crossing your arms over your chest.

“As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I did get two degrees in art and design and biochemical engineering.” The rest of the Avengers let out ooh’s at Tony. He threw his hands up in defense, bowing his head down. Clint brought his hands to your shoulders, shaking you slightly. You glanced over to Bruce, watching as he quickly averted his gaze from you, finding the ceiling far more fascinating.

Hawkeye/Clint Barton-

Being handed the wrapped flag was never something you thought would actually happen to you. The soldiers had been very helpful, offering to drive you to where you needed to go. You could only really go to one place. You’d just lost the only family you had left. You gave the soldiers the address and sat in the back of the car, staring out the window.

They asked for confirmation about the address when they pulled up to the Avenger’s Tower. You simply thanked them for their time and stepped out of their car. You held the flag close to your chest as you walked past agents and tower workers and went straight to the elevator. Tears welled in your eyes as the doors closed behind you.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y,” you called, your voice cracking. “Take me to the floor Tony’s on.” You really hoped he was in the room or in his lab.

"Right away Ms. L/N," the AI replied. You stood in the elevator, tears threatening to spill as you waited for the elevator to open. You rushed out when the elevator doors opened but stopped short when you saw Tony surrounded by the Avengers.

Once they did, you froze in your place. Tony had been your friend since college. You knew that you could always depend on him to be there for you, especially now. The other Avengers who surrounded him however, you were less than certain about. You contemplated leaving when F.R.I.D.A.Y. chimed in.

“Sir, Y/N L/N is here to see you.” He turned his head with a smile, opening his arms. His eyes traveled to the flag in your arms and his face fell.

“Oh… Y/N.” You lip quivered as you cast your eyes down, tears blurring your vision. You heard footsteps approaching you and a pair of arms wrapping around you. “Y/N.” Tony stroked your head as your body began shaking.

"They're--they're gone," you choked out.

"Who's gone?" the other guy inquired. You tried answering, but all that came out were choked sobs. "Hey, Y/N, I'm going to need you to breathe. Inhale. Hold. Exhale." After repeating the exercises a few times, your breathing was steady.

"Y/N, what happened?" Tony asked again.

"S/N was killed in combat," you said, fresh tears welling up in your eyes. "I just lost my whole family." You began hiccupping violently, making it hard to breathe.

"Clint, take her to my room. I'll be there shortly," Tony ordered. Clint led you to Tony's penthouse suite. He sat you on the bed, rubbing your shoulder.

"Thank you." You attempted to give him a weak smile.

"Feel better. I'm sorry for your loss," he told you, returning your smile with a soft one.

Thor Odinson-

Being one of SHIELD’s top agents came with both perks and nuances. Perks included always being in the loop of every underground operation, including the fact that Phil Coulson faked his death. Nuances included being hyper-aware of everyone around you at any given time, friends and foes alike.

Tony Stark inviting you to a party, well, all of SHIELD, was inviting paranoia. Your coworkers assured you that you were just in work mode, and this would help you relax. To appease them, you begrudgingly agreed to go.

You didn’t dress up, opting for a casual look to help you blend in. You made sure you were armed before finding a seat at the bar. Natasha was playing bartender, her eyes seeing everything all at once.

“Don’t have too much fun there,” she said, gesturing down to your cup of barely touched water. You lifted your brows quickly, looking back at the other SHIELD agents partying their hearts out.

“No promises.” She let out a snort, moving to mix another cocktail.

The hairs on the back of your neck began to stand up. You let your highly trained eyes scan the room, but you didn’t see anything. Then a thought hit you. You glanced up, searching the ceiling until you found a pair of eyes looking down at you from the vents. They shot you a wink before disappearing. Your eyes narrowed until you heard a cough behind you.

You turned to find the Prince of Asgard behind you, dressed more casually than you’d see him before. You raised a brow, looking him up and down.

“Good evening my lady. I am looking for our mutual friend Barton. Do you know where I can find him?” You glanced back towards the vent, waiting for the Prince to follow your gaze.

“Sorry, your Highness. Can’t say I’ve seen him,” you told him. He turned and found you staring at the vent. He gave you a big grin, bowing his head.

“A shame. I hope I haven’t disturbed you.”

“Not at all.”

“If that’s the case, I’d love a dance.” You turned back to Nat who was motioning for you to go. You bit your tongue, looking around the room.

“How can I--” You trailed off. From the corner of your eye, you spotted another coworker sitting at the other end of the bar. Her eyes kept flickering between her drink and the jacket that covered some guy’s arm from the elbow down. “Hold that thought.”

You set your untouched water down, moving down the bar. Nat followed you, keeping an eye on you. You carefully took out one of your concealed knives, pressing it to the guy’s back. He tensed immediately, allowing for your coworker to slip away.

Unfortunately he wasn’t the only undercover spy. A mass shoot-out took place, bullets whizzed by, glass shattered, and bodies hit the floor. Thankfully, most SHIELD agents survived unharmed.

You watched as Maria, Clint, and Nat hauled the last of the spies out of the party, handcuffs on their wrists. Thor approached you as you finished giving your statement, holding tightly onto Mjölnir. He opened his mouth to say something, but Clint called for you, waving you towards one of the SUVs.

“Raincheck on that dance?” you called back, jogging towards the van. Thor bowed his head, lifting Mjölnir briefly. You shot him a wink, sliding into the car before it took off.

Quicksilver/Pietro Maximoff-

Drinking was not something you did very often. Drinking alone was something you only did within the comfort and safety of your own apartment. So why were you sitting alone at a bar on a Friday night? Well, your boyfriend had a terrible accident. He tripped and fell into your manager’s bed.

“Well hello there.” You tipped back another shot, setting the cup back down onto the bar. You turned slowly in your seat to stare at the blurry man now seated next to you. Raising a brow, you moved to rest your head in your hand. “Hey Sweetheart. I hate to bother you, but I could really use your number?” the stranger asked.

“I think you could use a better line,” you slurred, rolling your eyes. You turned back to face the bar, staring down at your empty shot glass. From your other side you heard someone laughing. Glancing over, you could only make out another blurry man with almost white hair. “Can I help you?”

“Do you know who you just turned down?” he asked with a thick, foreign accent. You shook your head, immediately regretting it. You held your hand to your head, willing your brain to stop moving around. “That was Tony Stark.” You scoffed.

“Then I’m glad I turned him down,” you said. The blonde man smirked, you thought. He was slowly coming into focus, and he was actually kind of cute. Kind of. Poor lighting and tequila made everyone look good.

“You’re funny. And cute. What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” he asked. You shrugged.

“Men suck. Left me for his stupid manager. She’s not even pretty,” you said, face heating up with anger and alcohol. The man winced.

“Yeah, men do suck. I’m Pietro by the way.”

"Y/N."

“Y/N,” he repeated. The way your name sounded with his accent almost had you swooning… almost. “You should head home. You’re wasted, and I’d hate for someone to take advantage of you.”

“And you’ve been doing what, exactly?” you challenged. He grinned, looking down at his hands which had somehow gotten ahold of your phone.

“Distracting you so you can sober up a bit before the cab I called arrives.” He handed your phone back to you. “I’ll have one of the bartenders escort you. When you’re sober, give me a call.”

Spiderman/Peter Parker-

Switching schools was never something you liked. Always being the new kid and having to recreate a social life was always hard and frustrating. Trying to be the lone wolf never worked in your favor either. Your bubbly and friendly personality didn’t let you fade into the shadows. Then when you inevitably moved, it was always full of tears.

Your latest move wasn’t any different. Your family had relocated to New York City for your father’s business. Once again you were in a new school, surrounded by people you didn’t know. While their faces blurred together, yours stuck out. Tingles ran up your spine as you avoided everyone’s curious gazes. You glanced down at the paper containing your schedule and locker number and combination.

You found it easy enough, but when you entered the combination it refused to budge. You double checked the combination before carefully putting it in.

“Son of a bitch,” you mumbled, shaking the lock. You dropped the lock, resting your head against the cold metal door.

“Need some help with that?” A tall girl with glasses and frizzy hair pulled into a lazy ponytail stood a little ways down. She was standing in front of, presumably, her own locker, a tower of books balanced in her arm.

“That’d be great, thanks,” you said. You stood up straight, pulling your mouth into a thin line.

“These things suck,” she told you. She slammed her own locker shut. She jiggled your lock before hitting the door with her elbow. It swung open with complete ease.

“Thank you.” You bowed your head slightly.

“No problem. I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“Uh, no. I’m new. My name’s Y/N. Y/N L/N.” You stuck your hand out, a smile on your face.

“Hey, I’m--”

“MJ!”

You turned around to find two boys coming down the hallway, waving their hands excitedly. One boy had tan skin and dark hair that was neatly combed, while the other was pale with light brown hair and wore a dorky sweater.

“MJ! We’ve been looking for you,” the first guy said, almost ignoring you.

“I was just helping out Y/N here,” she said. “Y/N this is Ned and Peter-- a couple of losers.”

“Um, hi.” You gave the boys an awkward wave as the bell rang loudly. “I’ll see you guys around. Thanks for opening my locker.” You gave the three of them a tight-lipped smile before hurrying down the hall.

Falcon/Captain America/Sam Wilson-

When you had returned from Iraq, you were so happy to be home. Your family had thrown a small get-together to celebrate your safe return. Everyone was so proud of you for serving your country. Your parents had offered to let you stay with them until you found yourself a job and an apartment. With a good record, and an honorable discharge, it shouldn’t have been hard.

It was two months before you landed a job as a receptionist at the V. A. Center in D.C. It wasn’t a glamorous job, but you made decent money. However, living in D.C. was expensive. Finding a place seemed almost impossible, even with a job. Luckily your parents were extremely understanding.

After about three months at the V. A., you had your job down pretty well. Most of the time you were answering calls from local and nationwide veterans. Most were nice, inquiring about certain medical options and wanting help through the transition back into normal society. Some veterans weren’t as friendly and called to complain about how the government treated them or simply to yell.

You had finished another call and were logging it when someone cleared their throat. You tapped on the board that was in front of you. You listened as the pen scratched across the paper for the visitor. Once you finished your log you glanced up.

A tall, dark, and handsome stranger stood in front of your desk, a half-smile on his face. You smiled back, bringing your full attention to him.

“Welcome to the V. A. Center, how can I help you?” you asked, raising your brow a bit.

“I’m Sam Wilson. I have an interview in about twenty-minutes,” he told you. You nodded, sliding down a bit to the other phone. You picked it up, dialing the three numbers to your boss’ office.

“One moment.” You slid down to your other phone, dialing the three numbers for your boss’ office. “Sir, you have a Sam Wilson here to see you,” you informed him. “Yes sir.” You slid back down to Sam Wilson, a smile on your face. “He’ll be with you shortly. He’s finishing up a meeting.

He nodded, sitting down in one of the chairs. He leant back, arm thrown over the back of the chair as he stared down the hall, resting his ankle on his knee. You tried your best not to stare, but not staring was never a strong suit of yours, and boy did Sam Wilson give you plenty to stare at.

“Which branch did you serve for, Mr. Wilson?” you inquired, pretending to type on the computer as if you hadn’t spent the last five minutes staring at him.

“Just Sam is fine,” he said with a chuckle. “And I served in the army.”

“Army,” he replied. You nodded, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“Interesting. So when they did the Men of the Army calendar, was it just twelve months of you?” You watched as your words went through his head before he let out a chuckle. “What? Didn’t like it?” You shot him a wink, a smirk on your face.

“I like it quite a lot, actually… what’s your name?”

“Y/N. Y/N L/N.”

Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes-

It took years and years of studying and hard work, but becoming the leading psychiatrist in dealing and helping soldiers with Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome (PTSS), formerly PTSD. You never experienced it personally, but you had neighbors and friends who suffered from it growing up. You wanted to do something helpful in the world, something good, so you dedicated your life to finding ways to work through what others had experienced. Your reputation began to precede you, and that was how you were flown across the world to help one of the worst cases you’d ever seen.

The patient was a Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. He served in World War II where he was presumed KIA, Killed In Action. That was until about four years ago when he resurfaced as an assassin for an organization that was almost gone. The more you read, the wilder his story seemed to get. Reading his file, which was quite extensive, covered almost the entire flight to Wakanda.

King T’Challa stood ready to greet you when your plane landed. You bowed your head respectively, taking in the empty fields that surrounded you. He shook your hand firmly, offering you a warm smile.

“Welcome to Wakanda Dr. L/N,” he greeted.

“Thank you for having me, Your Majesty,” you said. “You have beautiful, open lands.”

“You’re much too kind. If you would follow me this way.” He held his hand out and began guiding you across one of the fields. Birds chirped above you as you made your trek over the verdant hills.

Just over the last hill was a single hut. Goats roamed around freely, munching on grass and bleating. King T’Challa gestured to the hut, staring at it solemnly.

“White Wolf lives there. He lives happily in solitude, but human interaction is important. The world says you are the best in your field. Please, help him,” the King said. You nodded your head.

“Nothing is guaranteed,” you reminded him. “My methods aren’t a one-hundred percent success, but I will do my best.”

“That is all we ask.”

You nodded one more time before resuming your walk to the small hut, this time alone. The goats were curious about you, pausing their lunch to stare at you. One particularly small one ran to you, nudging its head against your leg.

“Steve, be nice.”

A new voice caught your attention. His hair was longer and his beard was fuller, but you recognized the man as Sergeant Barnes. He stood in the doorway of the hut, staring down at the tiny goat that was now nibbling at the bottom of your pants. He wore white, traditional, Wakanda clothing. A white bandage covered the stub where his arm once was. He would have seemed peaceful were it not for the dark, solemn gaze in his eyes.

“Sergeant Barnes?” you called, bending down to pick up the goat. He looked up at you. “Sergeant Barnes my name is Dr. Y/N L/N. King T’Challa asked me to help you transition back into civilian society.” He nodded his head slowly. The goat, Steve, nestled into your chest, nibbling your shirt. “I was hoping we could talk.”

“Of course,” he said, moving aside so you could enter his hut. Setting the goat down, you stepped inside the small hut. It was bare for the most part, only the necessities were present. You took a seat on a nearby chair, watching him carefully. He took a seat across from you, awkwardly shifting in his seat.

“Sergeant Barnes, I would like to preface this by saying I am here to help you, and if what we do isn’t helping, it’s okay to say that,” you said.

“Bucky.”

“I’m sorry?”

“My name… it’s Bucky.” You smiled.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bucky. I’m Y/N.”

Loki Odinson-

Rehabilitation, patience, and forgiveness were some of your core beliefs. You also believed that good was in everyone, no matter what bad deeds they did, no matter how lost they seemed, with the right guidance and a voice of encouragement, you truly believed that anyone could redeem themselves. Because of this firm belief, you started a rehabilitation center in your kingdom which grew into the biggest and most successful rehabilitation center in the world.

Being the princess of a small country was hard, but this success gave your country exactly what it needed--money. Which sounded worse than it actually was. The world runs on money and your people weren’t exactly millionaires, but being paid to rehabilitate both petty and hardened criminals was surprisingly a great way to make money.

So much so that King T’Challa of Wakanda, an old childhood friend of yours, asked a favor from an American acquaintance of his. Tony Stark, owner of Stark Industries and Avenger, had been asked by his fellow Avenger, Thor, to seek a place for his trickster brother. You had heard all about New York in the news, but you never expected that to have an effect on your country. You weren’t so sure until Thor offered to pay in pure gold. That, you simply couldn’t refuse.

You stood on the runway, watching as the plane carrying your latest case began to touch down. The wind whipped your hair around your face, but your sunglasses protected your eyes. The wind settled once the plane came to a stop. The door opened and the first to exit was King T’Challa.

“Your Majesty,” you called. He smiled at you as he descended the stairs.

“Your Highness,” he greeted. He jogged over to you, skipping all formalities to give you a heartfelt hug. “It has been too long, old friend.”

“Much too long,” you agreed. A posse of people had followed him. Guards from Wakanda, Tony Stark, Thor, and his brother, Loki.

“Princess Y/N, this is my American acquaintance, Tony Stark.”

“Yes, Stark Industries precedes you.” He bowed to you respectfully.

“Your Highness, this is Thor and his troublesome brother Loki,” Stark said, gesturing to the two giant men beside him. Loki was bound in unique chains and had his face covered so you could only see his eyes.

“Welcome, gentlemen. We are happy to welcome you to our small corner of the world. If you all would follow me,” you said. You looped your arm through T’Challa’s, leading them to the facilities where Loki would be kept. “While your brother is a rather unique guest, we will be treating him like we treat everyone else here. Because of his abilities, he will be placed in a special room designed specifically for him.”

“How do you know it will hold Reindeer Games over here?” Stark asked, sending a pointed look to Loki. You smiled.

“I had a top engineer design it using advanced technologies that could put your entire company to shame,” you said. A smirk pulled at T’Challa’s mouth at the mention of his sister.

“You are very kind for doing this Princess Y/N,” Thor said. “I know with the right guidance, my brother will come back to who he used to be. Loki rolled his eyes at that, opting to look out the window. From the corner of your eye, you could see him staring at your reflection through the glass.

“It’s my pleasure.”

[asirensrage]

First Ten Lines

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway!

I was tagged by @chickensarentcheap! Thanks for that! Now to figure out the first ten lines of my most recent fics that aren't posted...

1 . Untitled "Haruno Sakura in Demon Slayer" fic:

The world was ending.  Or maybe it was her. There had been someone screaming her name, the sound nearly drowned out by the laughter of a goddess. A whispered promise of realized potential, of a world where she could thrive. Retribution and reward for deeds she hasn’t yet accomplished. Will never achieve. Sakura wakes alone. 

2. The Sacrifice (OC x Rengoku Demon Slayer fic)

“This one. This one!” “What would you choose, young one? To continue and renew?...” A memory filters through the fog, a soft voice asking her something, but it is quickly drowned out by the sound of metal scraping together, the feeling of weightlessness and the tight grip of her hand around Cora’s small fingers. She probes deeper. What were they just doing? There was a concert… a subway home and now-

3. Untitled. (Modern!AU Rengoku x OC oneshot)

She couldn’t stand him. It wasn’t that he was a dick or some egotistical asshole, he was just so…nice. It drove her crazy. No matter what she’s seen thrown at him, he responded kindly. There’s never been a moment that he even looked vulnerable and his incessant cheeriness was impossible to deal with in the mornings. She preferred to deal with Sanemi of all people because he never wanted to talk first thing in the morning and the two of them could sit in silence until they were forced to their classrooms to deal with whatever insanity the students brought that day. 

4. Untitled Vegas!Murder Husband oneshot

How did it get to this? She glances to the side, keenly aware of the drop behind her. All that’s preventing her from falling to her death is a window. “You really think you can threaten me?” her boss sneers at her, still trying to move in closer.  “It’s not a threat,” she says, trying to straighten, even as she grows more nauseous at the thought of the window breaking. It was a promise.

5. Continuation of The Good In You (Steve Rogers x OC)

They only see what they want to see. America’s Golden Boy. The Man Out of Time. It’s so fucking easy for him to play it up, to slip under the cracks and give them the same smile he gave on stage. They don’t see his anger. The utter frustration that sits in his throat as he watches these men in power lie to his face. It doesn’t matter if it’s about a mission, about the state of the world, about why they’re claiming their country is the best. As if he hasn’t seen the worst of it. They forget who he really is, where he came from. They forget that he is still human. They forget that he’s intelligent. 

5. Reality is Fictional (Multifandom OC fic)

This motherfucker.  If she had any energy left, if black spots weren’t already dotting her vision, she’d have pulled him down with her. The only hope she has is that her nails have gorged out paths in his skin and that any trace of blood will help him be found. That people will question why his eye is scratched. She’s not dying here without at least taking him with her: one way or another.

6. "running from comfort" untitled/undecided

She doesn’t know how she got here, curled up on this man’s lap and lulled by his warmth. She should be escaping, fighting even but as his hand runs down her back and she listens to his heartbeat, all she can do is close her eyes and relax. This isn’t so bad, is it?

7. Balance ( Jujutsu Kaisen OC)

She pauses for a moment, looking up as she feels it. It takes a moment for her to place it, to recognize the energy that resonates all the way, even here. No one else stops, unable to recognize the shift in the universe.  “Motherfucker.”

8. Only Murder Husbands in the Building (multi x oc)

She tries not to sigh. The building is in decent shape and the trailer behind her is just waiting to be emptied. She’s just exhausted. She hasn’t even started moving in. A small hand tugs on hers and she looks down at her niece. The kid looks even smaller in the city. She’s clutching her stuffed dinosaur and shifting in place, trying not to run off. It helps that Marshmallow is on the kid’s other side. Thank god. Evie doesn't know what she’d do if she had to corral her as well.  “Auntie?” “Hmm?” she asks before crouching down so that she’s on eye level with her. “What’s up Harpsichord?”  “We go home?” This time, Evie does sigh. “This is our new home. Ready to check it out?”  Harper clutches her dinosaur tighter before reaching for Marshmallow’s collar. “I don- wanna.”  “I know, but we gotta.” Harper pouts but Evie moves forward, bringing the others with her. “Come on.”

9. A Slayer in Hawkins (Stranger Things/Buffy OC Crossover)

Steve doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. It was a bad fucking idea or bad luck, because he keeps getting caught up in this but he couldn’t bring himself to let these kids try to lure some monster that Dustin had been hiding in his basement! These fucking kids. If Steve lives to see this, he’s going to have words with them. Particularly ones that involve them promising to stop doing stupid shit.  Because now? Now he’s in a junkyard, a bunch of kids are hiding in a worn-down bus and he’s pretty sure he’s surrounded. Fuck. He can’t die out here. If he dies, there’s going to be no one to look after the little shits.  Steve apparently lives off of luck. He goes sliding over the hood of a broken car, narrowly avoiding one lunging at him before he smacks one of the things across it’s face with the bat. The kids are yelling his name, calling him to retreat but he can’t listen to them right now because he’s fucking surrounded.

10. Untitled Sakura Haruno fic

They killed her.  She is left for dead, haphazardly buried. They don’t even bother sealing her body and returning it for proof. She’s not worth it, in their eyes. They don’t even check. Her murderers are certain that this civilian playing ninja is dead and if she isn’t, she will be. There is nothing special about her. Her only purpose is to die, according to their orders. Her death will bind her team to the village. She will be a footnote in a story of Konoha’s greatness. If she’s worth even that.  They do not expect the girl to dig herself out, to drag her broken body out of the ground through sheer will and determination. They do not know how her anger fuels her enough to break the surface and breathe. She succumbs to the darkness, alone and furious and in so much pain, as her mind replays the last words said to her: “For Konoha.” 

tagging: @eddiemunscns @arrthurpendragon @margoshansons @nejires-hado @kingsmakers @ninjasawakenedmystar and whoever else wants in!

[mntalbrakdown]

Locket - T. Holland

masterlist!

mentions of: smut (MDNI) it’s vanilla, hands? Unprotected sex, pregnancy, bisexual reader if u squint, hate comments, slight angst if you squint, fluff

synopsis: Tom is weirdly obsessed with your locket

wc: 2.1k

The intricate pendant was one thing he associated with you. The way it hung on her neck. How it was longer than the pearls she wore every day with it. How he loved how she kept her necklaces the same every day. It was something that he found fascinating. How she can have something so dearly on your neck to take them where ever she goes. He wondered for a long time what was inside, he grew slightly jealous of how her, and maybe others knew, but not him. For all, he knew it was her nude photos, but after him finally being able to grow a pair and start talking to her he was able to ask about it

“So what’s in there,” he asked with furrowed brows and a finger darting straight to her chest, she had to follow his finger and put two and two together that he wanted to know what was in the locket.

“Oh, it’s just a picture of my parents,” she said opening her locket moving closer to the man to show him.

He made a note to himself that the other side was empty and wondered why. He knew you had siblings so why was it empty?

“I have no clue what to put on the other side, I would put my siblings, but I don’t know,” she said as she was closing her locket looking away from his gaze and looking through the coffee shop’s window to see the passing cars

“You aren’t close with them?” he pries trying to read her expressions

“No I am, I just kind of like it by itself, so if something were to happen and I want to put something there, I don’t have to choose between my parents and my siblings,” she says turning back to his gaze

“Would you put your husband on that side?” he says trying to picture him in her locket

“Maybe even a wife” she jokes making them both laugh

“Kind of jealous that you can leave me for a girl”

“Hate the game, not the player,” she says looking straight at him trying not to laugh

“Kind of hard to do that when you’re so far away and I want to kiss you so bad,” he says trying to scoot her chair to him and succeeding. He tried leaning in but she swerved her head so he would kiss her cheek

“Not in public Tommy” she says smiling, kissing his cheek

“And why is that,” he says in a bit of a frown

“Your 12-year-old fans will attack me” she jokes around with the hate she has been getting, which made him stiffen visually because how could some people be so cruel to people they don’t even know, and how was she so ok with it?

That was that their relationship continued for years after. Every young fan wanted and prayed that they would break up to whatever god they believed in. Their wish did come true for a second and it was all over the media.

“Can’t they just leave me the fuck alone?” she said to her friend hoping the paparazzi would leave her street and stop taking pictures outside of her house.

“Price to pay when you’re dating America’s golden boy,” her friend says

“He isn’t even American!” she says in shock raising her hand “Is this shit not illegal?” she says pacing back and forth in her living room

“They’re on public property so I don’t think so”

“But they’re taking pictures of me in my fucking house, fucking creeps,” she says flipping the paparazzi off, which would make them enough to pay their rent or even upgrade their cameras

“Let’s just watch shameless together” her friend pats the couch next to her which she reluctantly follows and plops down

sorry

Why the fuck is he apologizing? It isn’t his fault. It’s the creeps who are obsessed with ordinary people and ordinary feelings. She hated and still hates why people always put people on higher pedestals when probably all they want is a normal life, but hey they signed up for this when they went for this career, right? Tom taught her that it wasn’t true, that they deserve a normal life too.

not your fault :)

She sent back. Just because both of them broke up doesn’t mean they both couldn’t be friends. They both still hung out and talked about their significant others. She was convinced he was her soulmate platonic or not, they both understood each other and that made her smile

want to hang out ;)

She debated for a second, but than thought ‘why the fuck not’ so she did. She started to hang out with him. She went to bars even though she didn’t drink and he went to bookstores even though he hated reading, partly because he was dyslexic and because it was boring. But they loved each other, that’s why they did things for each other even if they hated it.

soulmates

After a while of doing this and doing that. They got back together. This time it lasted and they never once spoke about the last break up. The 12 year old girls as she likes to call the crazy fans were upset. They knew it was forever. They looked inseparable, there would be no way in breaking them.

---

Every night night she would keep her necklaces and jewelry on. Her mother always told her to take them off, but she never listened. She thought it was so time consuming of putting them on and off every day when she can just keep them on and only take it off when she’s showering.

“You’re going to choke” he says to her

“I haven’t for the past 25 years, I think I’m ok” she smiles sarcastically at him

“Suit yourself,” he says as he wraps his hands around her waist looking at her straight through the mirror

“What the fuck turned you on?” She asks laughing at him when he tried to hide his face in her neck

“You’re wearing my Spider-Man shirt” she turns around and starts to kiss him everywhere except his face trying not to give in to him

“Fucking kiss me already” he practically begs

“Make me” he grabs her cheeks and makes her face him, he started to lean and kiss her, she gave in and kissed him back passionately. He picked her up and brought her to bed.

He was only wearing shorts to bed and was starting to take them off while she just looked at him. She loved the way he would get undressed quickly because he was eager to have her. He knew the outcome wasn’t anything special or different, but he loved it he would never get bored of it. He quickly dove to the bed making her laugh and he switched both of them so she was on top.

He grabbed the hem of the shirt and bringing it up her body to take it off. Loving the way she would stretch to help him out. When her face came back up again, her hair was covering her bare chest and her black glasses were falling. She pushed them back up which made him laugh because she can be the sexiest person and still be a nerd, something he always bullies her for.

“No bra” he questions as he brushes her hair back to get a full view

“Easy access I guess” she moves her body to try to align herself with him

“Wait no underwear” he’s a bit in shock about how he has slept with her all these years and never found this out

“I only wear a shirt, I thought you knew”

“What the-Fuck” he says as she grabs him and rubs it along her folds. She was wet and ready for him, she didn’t want it to be harsh and quick she wanted it to last for a while.

As she sinks into him she holds his chest for support. She arches her back from pleasure moaning his name. He finally realized he has easy access to her tits so he leans in to suck the right and massage the left. Then he moved his head to start leaving marks on her neck growing impatient to see them in the morning as little trophies for him. He could be able to mark her so people knew she was his and only his, and she would always show them off to the public, which he thought was hot.

Praising her of what she’s doing. He then massaged her thighs to spur her on which made her weak and she leaned to his chest. Her locket was cold and pressing against his chest. He hoped and prayed he could be in there like he belonged to her. Like she belonged to him. Something more emotional than a ring, like having a picture of her in his wallet.

He brought her jaw to him, to kiss her passionately. Her version of the locket was his watch. She couldn’t be in a watch theoretically but she always found it attractive. She found his hands attractive and having a watch decorate it was even better. She would also purposefully ask him for the time even if she had her phone. It was a turn-on for her and don't get her started on his touch, touch that would make her melt at the spot.

His other hand was grabbing her hair to keep her in that spot. Having her necklace and tits against his chest spurred him on. He glided his hand gently along her spine ticketing her making her arch her back. It was like his touch was the matches and she was the surface to ignite the fire. They were a pair that had no use if they were by themselves.

“Fuck Tommy” two words flipped a switch inside him to flip them over. Her hair was in a halo on the pillow. The way her eyes would glisten for him spurred him on. And how her mouth hung open as she was screaming from pleasure. He was so close that he wanted her to go first, he would make figure eights on her clit to add stimulation. He brought her leg up to his shoulder to go in deeper to hit the spot which succeeded.

“I’m fucking close” he already knew from the way she would tighten around his dick. She was now the one who brought him down to kiss him. Which sent butterflies through him. He released in her and she followed behind. As he laid next to her he brushed her hair behind her ear. She looked straight into his eyes which looked like they were filled with pure love.

“Be honest” he started his sentence

“Yeah”

“Do you want to have a kid” he finally asked, he looked fragile just by thinking about the other option, the bad option

“No -but, but I want to have one with you,” she says smiling at how his almost frown quickly turns into a smile

“Really,” he says a little too enthusiastically

“Yes, seeing you with kids is so fucking hot,” she says snuggling closer to him

“Shit let’s make sure these bad boys are swimming fast enough,” he says while he pushes his cum in her which made her laugh. She tries to swat his hand away as they both doze off to sleep

The day after the sun was coming through the curtains and danced along her skin. He loved the way she slept because she would usually smile through it and after would tell him what it was about. He was playing around with her locket twisting it and flapping it. He finally opened it and to his surprise, he was in it. It was him and Tessa that same picture was also her Lock Screen she would always say that it was her favorite picture of him because he was smiling innocently at Tessa not even caring what he looked like. His messy hair was still curly but slightly wet from coming back from a shower and had a black shirt and pants. she says it's special because he wasn't trying to look good.

“I love you,” she says catching him off guard

“Shit, you scared me,” he says chuckling

“So you’re just not going to say it back” she acted offended

“Love you”

---

“Happy birthday!” Tom and both of your daughter's come up to her in bed. With a tray of food and apple juice because she cannot express enough how much she hated OJ. While she was scanning the tray in front of her, she saw a little box. It was a black small one with a red bow with a card that says to mommy from her daughter's name but she knew it was Tom. She opened it to see a new locket, instead of it only being two-sided, this time it was three. It had a picture of her parents, Tom because he was selfishly keeping himself there forever, and their daughter with her missing both of her front teeth. And on the back it said “I love you, nerd” engraved

“Awe thank you sweets” she says kissing the top of her daughters head and than moved to kiss Tom

“We can try for baby number two later while you wear that locket” Tom says winking at you

[earlgreydream]

rough.

| draco x reader | angst | smut |

enemies to lovers 🖤

anon requested. theyre enemies but deep down theres a sexual tension and one day theyre on vacation and have to stay in one room together

cw: angst, name-calling (degradation), hate-fucking, very slightly dubcon

.

“I can’t stand you! I don’t want to stay in a room with you!” You shouted, shoving him away from you.

“I’m just as angry as you! I don’t know how the hell this happened!” Draco snapped, pushing past you into your shared hotel room.

You had gone on vacation to America with some of your schoolmates, and due to a mix up in the planning, you and Draco had ended up in the same hotel room. To make matters worse, the room only had one bed.

Draco was your sworn enemy since first year. He’d embarrassed you in front of the Weasley twins, the boys you had a crush on, and you’d retaliated by tainting the love potion he gave to Pansy. It had started seven years of fighting and backbiting, the two of you always at each other’s throats and never seeing eye to eye.

It had become second nature to fight with Draco. Screaming matches with him lit a specific fire in your belly— different from anything else. It burned through you, igniting every nerve in your body. You thought it was anger, though it proved to be more when nothing satiated the rage, and your mind began to wander.

The electrically charged energy between you was hard to ignore. It was like a live wire, blazing everything in its wake, or an oil spill, turning everything flammable.

.

“Malfoy-” you started, but you were cut off by his sharp glare.

“I was going to suggest that we change quickly and meet the others in the lobby. I was going to ask if I could use the loo, but I was going to give you the courtesy of offering it first,” you hissed, and he shook his head.

“Go, it’s fine.”

You stepped into the bathroom, closing the door. You were desperate for some distance from Draco. You freshened up in the mirror, not taking too long so you didn’t get him even more agitated than he already was.

“What are we going to do about-?”

“We’re going to worry about it when the time comes,” you interrupted, glancing at the one bed.

The bathroom door slammed shut, leaving you alone in the small room. There wasn’t a couch— and the chair simply wasn’t adequate. Ultimately, you both knew the two of you were going to end up in bed together that night, whether you liked it or not.

A deep sigh left your lips, and you grabbed your bag, preparing to meet your friends downstairs. Draco locked the door behind the two of you, and the elevator ride was painfully silent. 

.

“My two favorite people. Sorry about the room situation,” Theo grinned, opening his arms as you walked up to him. 

You stepped into his chest, letting tattooed limbs wrap around you. He kissed the top of your head, grinning into your hair. 

“If Malfoy’s mean to you, you just let me know, okay? I’ll take care of him,” Theo promised you, finally getting you to giggle. 

“Maybe tell her not to be a right bi-”

“Draco, baby, try a little harder,” Theo hummed, kissing Malfoy’s cheek before getting pushed off. You laughed at them. 

Seven years, and you still wondered how it was possible for Theo-- the sweetest boy in the world, to be best friends with Draco Malfoy-- the devil’s incarnate. 

“Come on, we’ll get breakfast then catch the ferry,” Cedric said, handing out ferry passes to your group: Draco, Theo, Blaise, Fred, George, Hermione, Ginny, Pansy, Cedric, and you. 

Hermione took your hand, pulling you from the Slytherin boys. 

“It’s going to be fun. And besides, we’ll only be sleeping in the rooms. It’s not a problem,” Hermione assured you, the girls walking ahead of the others.

“Except there is only one bed,” you muttered, and Ginny and Pansy spun to look at you. 

“Are you serious?” Ginny giggled, and you smacked her arm. 

“It is not funny!”

They held their hands up in defense, though their amusement was clear. You took the subway to the ferry, crowded with American muggles. 

“Careful!” Draco hissed in your ear, catching you ask you lost your balance. His hand went around your waist, pinning you to his chest. 

“M’sorry, I slipped!” you were thankful for him holding onto you, even if you’d never admit it. You gripped the pole for support, trying not to lean into him too much. He helped you off of the train, and you took Theo’s hand as you boarded the ferry. 

“Look at the statue!” you gasped, admiring the skyline and leaning on the railing of the boat as you road to Staten Island. 

“Don’t fall,” Draco came to your other side. 

“Are you serious? Draco, I’m not a child!” you snapped.

“You’re leaning on the railing, and we can’t be using magic to drag you out of the water!”

You shot him an indignant look, and climbed up to stand on the railing. Even Theo looked anxious at your actions. 

“Get the fuck down, right now.” Draco’s grey eyes were wide, and you stared back at him, daring him to touch you. 

“We’re going to dock, and it’ll knock the-” Theo was interrupted before he could finish his sentence. The boat stopped suddenly, and as you caught yourself, Draco grabbed your waist, pulling you off of the railing. 

You shrieked, struggling away as he pulled you down. He refused to let go of you, and you tried to shove him off. 

“Knock it off. And quit doing dangerous shit,” Draco swatted your ass through your denim shorts, making Theo choke on his water bottle. You immediately stilled, staring at him in horror. 

“Did you just spank me?” You gasped, startled. 

He let go of you, answering with only a cold look. You shook your head and went to join the others, Theo and Draco falling into conversation with Cedric and Blaise. 

“What happened back there? We heard you yelling,” Hermione asked, grinning behind her oversized mirrored sunglasses.

“Draco just being an ass. It’s fine,” you said, stealing her sunglasses and putting them on. 

“Come on, let’s go have some fun.”

. 

You spent the day sightseeing, walking around Staten Island before going back to Manhattan. The sun was warm overhead, the summer heat getting to your minds. You’d managed to avoid bickering with Draco most of the day, but now the sun was hanging low in the sky, casting a golden-orange glow over everything. You were drinking cocktails at a place near Times Square, tired from being on your feet all day.

“Tomorrow we’re going to the MET,” Theo said, checking the plans. 

You stayed out late, talking and laughing until the lights of the city had drowned out the ink-black sky. You were tired, a little buzzed, overly hot, and you wanted to sleep. 

.

“What the hell was that on the ferry? Do you think you can just-?” Draco grabbed your arm, cutting off your rant that you’d saved until you were in private, not wanting to fight in front of your friends. Your back hit the hotel room door, Draco’s chest pressed up against yours.

“Do I think I can just what? Knock that bullshit little smirk off of your face?” Draco seethed. 

“Tell me what to do!” You pushed his shoulders, though he didn’t move.

“It’s clear that you can’t be trusted to make good choices on your own.”

“That’s rich coming from you-” you hissed, feeling the familiar burning spread through your abdomen. 

“You should learn a little respect,” Draco’s hand wrapped around your throat, the rings on his fingers cold against your warm skin. A moan escaped you before you could stop it, and his eyebrows shot up. 

“Is this what you need? Do you just need to have the bitch fucked out of you?” You squirmed, gripping his wrist and trying to pry his hand off of your throat. 

You were seething, the energy between you becoming intensely sexually charged. You hated yourself for growing aroused, but you couldn’t keep the heat from spreading through your body, and you were becoming keenly aware of your throbbing sex. 

Draco pushed his knee between your thighs, and you shook your head. 

“No, no.”

“No? You aren’t horny and desperate? I know how much you hate me, and I know you’ve been dying to release all that pent up energy. You’re going to be sleeping in the same bed with me tonight, trapped under the sheets with my body. If you don’t act now, you’ll have to go untouched for the next week of this trip...” he smirked, knowing he had leverage, able to see how desperate you were. 

Truly, Draco was desperate for you too. You made him so angry, but you managed to turn him on as you got under his skin. He was aroused now, growing harder as he watched you squirm in pure need. He was waiting to hear you say yes, to give in. He may have hated you, but he wasn’t an animal. 

You bit your lip so hard you tasted metal, trying to hold in a scream. Your chest heaved with heavy breaths, your eyes narrowed into a glare. His thigh was pressed against your sex, and you fought against the urge to grind against him, desperate for friction. 

“Fuck,” you swore, and Draco squeezed your throat, making you whimper. 

“Is that a no, Y/N? Do you want me to let go of you? Let you go finger yourself in the shower?” he mocked you. 

“I hate you.”

“I know. It’s mutual, love.”

“Alright, Draco. Please fuck me. But this doesn’t mean anything!”

He smirked, letting go of you and tossing his shirt aside. You rid your own clothes with his, freezing as your eyes lingered on his naked body. The need and arousal pulsing through your body was overpowering, and just the sight of him was making you falter. 

“Do you need me to do everything for you? Get over here,” Draco’s hand wrapped around your elbow, tugging you toward him. He ripped your panties off, the veins in his hand flexing at the display of strength.

“Draco!”

“Save it.”

Draco hauled you to the bed, bending you over the edge. You struggled, trying to sit up. He shoved your head back down, pressing your chest against the duvet. 

“Are you serious?” you snapped as he gripped your wrists in one hand, holding them at the small of your back. 

“You’re going to lay here and be good or you’re not going to get fucked at all,” Draco threatened, and you burned in shame. You stopped straining yourself to look at him, residing to resting your head on your side, ceasing your struggle against his hold. 

A choked groan left your lips as Draco slammed into your cunt all at once. He buried himself deep enough to where his hips were pressed to your ass, his body bent over yours. Draco slammed into you, frustration powering his rough thrusts. You writhed under his strong grip, moaning and squealing as he tore into your tight heat. Even with how wet you were, your body spasmed at the force. 

It felt primal, rough, and dirty. 

Fucking Draco was scandalous, even for you. The two of you getting so angry that the energy had to be channeled into sex felt deviant, Draco’s cock tainting your innocence with every thrust. 

You felt better than Draco had imagined. Your noises were erotic, encouraging him more than the momentum he was gaining. He kicked your legs further apart, shoving himself deeper into your sex. Your moan was muffled by the duvet, squeezing your eyes shut. It felt like he was tearing you open, and you couldn’t get enough. Your head was spinning, and your fingers flexed, the only part of your body you could move freely against his hold. 

“You’re fucking divine,” Draco breathed, reaching his hand under the two of you. His fingers found the area where your bodies connected, sliding upward through your folds. 

“Draco, fuck, please!” you cried, arching your back as he pressed against your nerves. 

“Please what, love? Are you going to quit being contrary?”

“Yes, I’ll do anything, just please touch me there,” you begged, abandoning your stubbornness.

You buried your face in the bed and screamed, your back curving into a bow as he fucked into you in time with the circles he was tracing with skilled fingers.

Draco swore as you pulsed around him, squeezing his cock as you cried from euphoria. Electricity shot through your limbs, your orgasm ripping through your body. Draco was quick to follow, pulling out and coming over your ass, watching you shudder and throb around nothing. 

As his memories being frustrated with you returned, he continued his assault on your clit, pinching you harshly to watch you writhe and scream. 

“Draco, Draco, I’m sorry, I’ll be nice, just stop!” you squealed, trying to kick him as he overstimulated you. 

He released you as you asked, taking in the sight of your absolutely wrecked body. Your arms were shaking as you brought them under you, trying to push yourself up onto your elbows. You heaved in deep breaths, still trembling as you came down from your high. 

Draco wiped down your skin for you, finding some decency. 

“Hey, look at me. You alright?” Draco held your jaw, tilting your face up. You nodded, and he slid boxers up his leg before digging for something in his jacket pocket. 

“Y/N. Come here,” Draco’s voice was low and husky, his back to you. 

You forced yourself to stand up, your legs weak as you stepped toward him. You followed Draco onto the balcony, where he sat down on a lounge chair. Ringed fingers wrapped around your wrist, pulling you to sit sideways on his lap. 

His touch was no longer aggressive or harsh, but instead moving you with authority. You held a blanket loosely around your body, shielding you from the cool night air. 

Draco didn’t speak as he pulled a cigarette from the box, putting it between his lips. He lit the end before setting the box and the lighter on the table, leaning his head back and taking a drag. He held your jaw, pressing his lips against yours before exhaling the smoke into your mouth. 

He turned, watching the city lights glitter around you. He offered you the cigarette, and you accepted, sharing with him. 

“Our secret?” you asked softly, and his silver gaze connected with his.

“Our secret.”

“Do you still hate me?” 

The corners of Draco’s lips pulled up, and his fingers brushed over your bare back, his hand resting at the base of your spine. 

“Only when it serves me, I suppose,” he murmured, and you fought off a smile.

“You’ll not bite me in my sleep then?”

“Full of questions. I make no promises, I’ve found I rather like how you taste.”

He kissed you then, under the city lights, tasting like smoke and sage and secrets. 

[the-bau-quinjet]

One Misunderstanding

Bucky x Reader

Summary: You struggle to fix Bucky's first impression of you. Bucky struggles with his own feelings.

Warnings: angst, Hydra things- like brainwashing and torture, a few curse words, panic attacks, anxiety

Word count: 5609

a/n: this idea came to me very suddenly, but I'm in love with it. Hopefully whatever I just wrote does it justice.

Masterlist

"Everyone, meet Y/N. She's the newest member of our little group, bringing in a whole new level of hacking and tech skills. Y/N, meet the team." Tony introduced you to everyone, eager to share your skills.

You turned to the group, getting ready to introduce yourself further, but instead tripped. You shrieked as you fell down the small set of stairs you were at the top of.

Sam, being the closest, caught you. "Good thing you've got tech skills." He chuckled as you righted yourself, firmly planting your feet on the ground.

"Haha, yeah. I'm not a big fan of violence." You winced as you said it, wishing you could take it back. You didn't want to get into the reasons as to why you don't like violence.

To your surprise, nobody asked why. You would have guessed they would have questions, but maybe they weren't interested in your past. They all had their own issues to deal with afterall.

"Eh, we don't need anymore people for fighting anyway. Welcome to the team." Steve greeted you warmly, as you would have expected from America's golden boy.

You gratefully shook his hand, glad to not have to talk about anything yet. Unfortunately, you tripped again when you tried to move back, falling into the one and only Bucky Barnes.

His hands steadied you, dryly laughing at your clumsiness. "You really are clumsy."

You did you best to not show how embarrassed you were. You couldn't deny the claim. Unless you were fighting, something you vowed to yourself to never do again, you were clumsy.

Being abducted and tortured by Hydra may have made you a competent fighter, but your aptitude for tripping over nothing never left.

"Right, sorry!" You greeted everyone else quickly, eager to get situated in your room. "I'm just going to unpack everything." You waved as you backed out of the room, bumping into the wall as you left.

-

You had just finished putting away your stuff when you heard a knock on your door.

"Come in!" You figured someone would have questions for you.

Unsurprisingly, Natasha was the one to step into your room. Of everyone there, you expected her to have learned about your past. It comes with the territory of being a spy.

"Hi, I was hoping to talk to you." Her tone was friendly, but clearly she was skeptical of you. Again, you weren't surprised.

"I thought you might. I'm assuming you read my file? Honestly, I thought everyone would." You laughed gently, shaking your head at yourself.

"I did. Your file is pretty bare bones though. I did some extra digging... Not everyone else is as nosy as me." She grinned, already pleased with your openness. "So, why'd you pretend to be clumsy?"

"Oh, it wasn't pretend. I've always been clumsy. When everything happened, and I learned how to fight, I thought my newfound agility would help. Turns out, it didn't. The only times I'm even the slightest bit coordinated are when I'm fighting or training, but I wasn't lying about that either. When I escaped, I promised myself I wouldn't hurt anyone else."

"Why join the Avengers at all then?" She looked curious, still unsure if she could trust you.

"I wanted to help people. I just didn't want to use the skills they gave me to do it. So, I learned how to code, figured I could help behind the scenes."

She smiled, letting down her guard. Clearly it would take some time, but you could easily see the two of you being close friends.

"So, nobody knows about what you went through?" She couldn't help but be curious about your past.

"Nope. I don't talk about it much, but it's not a secret. I'll answer anything you want to know." You smiled, eager to try and make a real friend here.

You spent the next few hours answering every question Natasha could think of. You told her about being abducted and experimented on.

That lead to even more questions, basically boiling down to the fact that you're not a super soldier, but you do have enhanced senses- and seemingly enhanced clumsiness for when you're not using them.

You told her about learning how to fight, and the punishments you would endure if you got it wrong. The two of you bonded over the shared experience.

Finally, you told her about how you escaped. When the Winter Soldier escaped, every Hydra effort possible was made to find him. That included you. Resources were spread thin, trying to cover more areas. It was the perfect opportunity for you to get out.

"Really, I owe my freedom to him. Even if he doesn't know anything about me." You felt the tears in your eyes, too many emotions swirling through you to keep it all in anymore. "Since then, I've learned everything I could about technology and coding, which pretty much brings you up to date."

Before she could ask anymore questions, there was another knock on your door. Quickly wiping the tears from your eyes, you called another "come in!"

Steve poked his head in the door, cautiously looking between you and Nat.

"I've been sent to stop the interrogation." He grinned, stepping farther into the room.

Nat rose from her spot on the bed, kissing him on the cheek while rolling her eyes. "It wasn't an interrogation. We were bonding."

"Yeah, over what?" He chuckled, trying to figure out what the two of you had in common.

Maybe it was the look in your eyes, or maybe Nat just likes knowing more than everyone, but she smiled conspiratorially at you before responding. "Girl stuff, babe. Just girl stuff."

You smiled as the couple left the room, grateful for not having to explain everything again.

-

Over the next few weeks, the team constantly teased you for your clumsiness. Well, not the whole team. Nat knew the truth, so she never said anything. Peter never teased you either, although that is likely due to the teasing he endures as well.

Weirdly enough, you bonded with the kid over it, eventually telling him about your past as well.

Normally you could shake it off. They clearly didn't mean anything by it. Except Bucky.

Whenever he said anything, he stared you down. His eyes felt like they were piercing your soul. You're not sure exactly why, but he didn't seem to like you much.

Which wouldn't be an issue if you didn't have an embarrassing crush on the man.

Really your infatuation started when you first escaped Hydra. His own escape lead to your freedom, so you admired him. When you found out he was working with the Avengers to help people, you admired him even more.

Watching him on missions is really what caused the infatuation to blossom into a full blown crush.

You, however, would adamantly deny that if anyone ever asked. Which is what just happened.

"What?!" You nearly tripped, again, with how quickly you turned to look at Wanda and Nat.

"You heard me." Nat stared at you, a neutral expression on her face. "When are you going to do something about your crush on Barnes."

"I, I don't- I don't have a crush on Bucky." You stuttered, a lackluster job at denying the truth.

"Please, Y/N. It's so obvious!" Wanda joined in.

The three of you hung out a lot around the compound. It was nice to have a support system to lean on when things got hard.

"Well, even if I did, which I'm not saying I do! He doesn't like me. I don't know what I did, but his eyes feel like daggers whenever we're in the same room." You started out strong, but quickly morphed into a sad resignation. It genuinely upset you that Bucky didn't like you.

"I think I might know what that's about..." Wanda bit her lip, immediately feeling guilty at having said anything.

"What!?" You eagerly turned to her, needing answers. You shuffled your way across the room, never fully rising from your seat on the ground.

"I don't know if I should tell you! I'm not even supposed to know, but sometimes his thoughts are really loud!" Her guilt multiplied.

"You have to tell me now! Then I can fix it!" You were practically begging at her feet from your position on the floor.

She looked at Nat, who just shrugged in return. "Not my place, although I would love to hear it."

"Ugh, fine. But you can't tell anyone I told you!" Wanda glared at the two of you, unable to say no to your pouting face. "The first day we all met you, do you remember what you said?"

Your face scrunched as you tried to remember. "I'm not a big fan of violence?"

She nodded, looking at you as if she just told you everything.

"So?" You asked incredulously, unable to follow her train of thought.

She rolled her eyes, having to spell it out for you. "He kind of took that personally..."

Immediately, you sunk completely to the floor. "Oh, god. Fuck! That's not what I meant at all! I just meant I don't personally like using violence! Shit, shit, shit." You continued to mutter to yourself as Nat and Wanda shared a look.

"Why don't you like using violence?" Wanda asked, intrigued by your reaction.

You thought back to your conversation with Nat the first day you got here. You told her it wasn't a secret, it just wasn't something you brought up.

"Can you just look in my head? I don't really wanna explain it, but I want you to know." You asked, glad to share you past with another friend.

Wanda nodded, seemingly doing nothing until realization dawned on her.

"Oh shit." She whispered, not even realizing she said it out loud.

"Yeah." You huffed out a dry laugh.

"Y/N... I'm so sorry." You smiled at her, having worked through most of the trauma already. "You totally have a crush on Barnes though."

That earned a real laugh. "Hey, that's not what you were in there for!"

"It's not my fault! You were thinking it really loudly!"

The three of you laughed together until you sunk back into a pit of despair.

"What do I do? How do I fix this?" You whined, laying back on the ground like a child.

"I think you just need to talk to him. Explain what you meant." Wanda shrugged, unsure of any other advice to offer you.

"She's right. Just talk to him." Nat nodded along as you whined on the floor.

-

After a few days, you finally worked up enough courage to try and talk to Bucky. He had just finished training, so you knew exactly where he'd be: in the kitchen.

Walking in, you were glad to see him pulling ingredients from the fridge.

"Hey Bucky, can I, um, talk to you for a minute?" You stuttered through the words, nervous about what he would say.

He barely looked at you, nodding his head for you to continue.

"I just, I wanted to apologize." You trailed off when his head snapped up.

"For what?" Well shit. How are you supposed to explain this one without ratting out Wanda.

"Oh, well, um... I just thought maybe I said- I did something that upset you. Uh, you just don't seem to like me very much, which is totally cool, you don't have to like me if you don't want to. I just didn't want it to be my fault... Fuck." That went horribly. Taking a deep breath, you started over. "I didn't mean it."

Bucky is looking at you like you have three heads. "Didn't mean what?"

"That I don't like violence."

"So you do... like violence." He'd somehow grown more confused.

"Well, no." You paused, unsure of how to explain yourself.

"Then you did mean it." His soul piercing stare is back.

"I-"

"It's fine, save it. Some people get to choose not to be violent." And with that, he left the kitchen, abandoning his post workout smoothie.

You stared at the doorway, in shock over how poorly that went. You stood there , unaware of the 25 minutes that had passed, trying to figure out how it could've gone better when Steve found you.

"Y/N? What are you doing?"

You didn't hear him, too lost in the memories. Memories of Hydra, forcing you to do things you never wanted to. This happened from time to time if something triggered you into remembering, otherwise you had a handle on your emotions.

"Y/N?" Steve said your name again, concern evident in his voice. He gently laid a hand on your shoulder, trying to get your attention.

Everything happened so fast after that. The feeling of someone's hand on your shoulder caused you to panic. With all the memories of Hydra in your head, your training kicked in instinctually.

You grabbed Steve's arm, pulling him closer to you for better leverage. Before he could question your moves, you flipped him, pinning him to the ground.

The second you made eye contact, you realized what just happened. Horror and regret flashed in your eyes.

In an effort to get off him, you threw yourself backward, knocking into a cart full of pots and pans. The clanging of metal hitting the ground echoed through the small room.

Steve sat up slowly, trying to register the turn of events. You sat in a ball on the floor, tears pooling in your eyes, mumbling apologies over and over again.

Sam, having heard the commotion from the pots and pans, ran into the kitchen ready to fight.

"What- What happened?" He asked in confusion, lowering his arms from their defensive position.

"I don't know." Steve looked at you, still trying to figure it out.

"Y/N?" Sam's voice was gentle, but it still startled you.

You jumped from the ground, rushing to help Steve get up. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to. I never wanted to hurt anyone again." Your breathing was picking up, short bursts of air leaving your lungs. Your hands were shaking as you pulled him from the ground.

Your panic increased as you took in their concerned expressions.

"Hey, look at me." Steve's Captain voice, came out, urging you to make eye contact. You followed orders, breathing rapidly, your whole body shaking.

"I'm going to touch you now, is that okay?" His words were gentle, but commanding, causing you to nod in response.

He pulled you into a tight hug, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

You wanted to explain, to tell them what happened, but all that came out was a pitiful "Bucky".

"Do you want me to get Bucky?" Sam asked, trying to understand you.

The idea of Bucky coming back caused your panic to increase. You shook your head rapidly, "No! No no no no no." You kept repeating the word, shaking in Steve's arms.

"Okay! Okay, no Bucky." Sam reassured you, voice calm and soothing.

You’re not sure how long you stood like that. Sam moved around the kitchen, cleaning up the pots and pans you had knocked over.

When your breathing steadied, Steve asked, "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

You nodded, leading the two men to the couch in the adjacent common area. You sat for a minute, unsure of where to start.

"Why don't you just lead us through it all?" Steve suggested, still rubbing your back.

You nodded, grateful for the starting point. "I went to the kitchen to apologize to Bucky."

"What for?" Sam interrupted, already confused.

"Sam! Just let her talk." Steve muttered, slightly annoyed.

"Sorry!" He glared back at Steve before turning to you, "Sorry, please continue."

You couldn't help but laugh at their banter.

"Right, I wanted to apologize for what I said the first day I met you all. I realized how it sounded, so I wanted to try and fix it." You paused, waiting for the recognition to hit them.

It didn't take long. The two men nodded, silently urging you to continue.

"Honestly, Wanda told me that was why he always seems mad at me. You have to know, I never meant for it to come across that way! It's more of a personal, 'I don't want to be violent' than shunning others for doing what's necessary." You took a deep breath, not eager to relive the conversation.

"Anyway, I told him I didn't mean it. I just couldn't explain it right, and he got upset, which makes sense!" You turned to look between them, not wanting them to think you were insulting Bucky in any way. "I don't hold what he did against him. It wasn't his choice, and I completely understand that. I just couldn't put that into words when I was talking to him, and I made everything worse."

Tears popped into your eyes again, upset at what he must be going through. You weren't with Hydra for but a tenth of the time he was, and you didn't endure the same level of brainwashing.

"He said something about some people not being able to choose not to be violent, and then he left. I don't know how long I was standing in the kitchen replaying the conversation, but it brought up bad memories for me." You sighed again, working up the nerve to tell them everything.

"Wanda and Nat already know, but I guess it's your guys's turn. This was so much easier to just have Wanda read my mind." You laughed at your own joke, the two men sharing a concerned look.

"I was taken... by Hydra. They experimented on me, gave me enhanced senses, trained me to fight, and punished me when I did something wrong." Again, tears sprung into your eyes, occasionally falling down your cheeks.

"Why wasn't this in your file?" Steve questioned, more to himself than you.

"I haven't got a clue. I guess nobody knew about me? But, I escaped. They didn't brainwash me like they did Bucky, because I don't have the serum. Or, at least, I think that's why." You shook your head, refocusing on the important parts.

"When every available Hydra agent was tasked with searching for the Winter Soldier, I took it as on opportunity. Their resources were spread thin. I was able to getaway."

You went onto explain your reasoning for joining the Avengers as a tech specialist, trying to convey the same earnestness you did with Nat.

"You can ask Nat or Wanda too. Nat found out day one, Wanda a few days ago." You wiped your tears, hoping they believed you. "Actually, Peter knows too."

"I was stuck in all those memories when you came into the kitchen. I didn't even register that you were in the room, so when you touched me I freaked out. I never meant to hurt you!"

You looked at Steve fearful that he would be upset.

"Y/N, I believe you." You cried tears of relief at his statement, genuinely exhausted from the day. "It's not your fault, and you didn't hurt me. Just caught me off guard. You're surprisingly agile when you want to be." He tried to lighten the mood, glad to hear you laugh.

"Well, I train in the middle of the night sometimes. I- I want to be able to get out if I'm ever forced back there." Your voice was quiet, admitting a secret you hadn't even told Nat.

"We won't let that happen." The sternness of Sam's voice surprised you.

"Thank you." You wiped your tears a final time, looking between the two men. "Now, what do I do about Bucky?" You refocused your energy on fixing your relationship with the super soldier.

"He never would have said what he said if he had known." Steve started the conversation, defending his friend.

"I know. I don't hold it against him, I just wish I could explain. I get so nervous when he looks at me like that." You rambled, too tired to filter your thoughts.

"Like what?" Sam asked, eager for more information to tease Bucky with.

"Huh? Oh, I don't know. Like he can see into my soul." You deadpanned, earning a laugh from both men. "I just want him to like me." You nearly whined, upset by your poor relationship.

"Like you, huh?" Steve grinned. Nat and Wanda chose that exact moment to walk into the room, eagerly joining the conversation.

"Barnes? Did you tell him how you feel?" Wanda squealed with excitement.

You buried your head in your hands, avoiding the knowing looks the four of them were surely sharing. "Not exactly." You gestured to your head, hoping Wanda would figure it out and share with Nat.

"Ooh... It didn't go well, basically Barnes got upset, Y/N flipped Steve and had a panic attack, then told these two everything." Wanda explained to Nat quickly, trying not to make you relive it.

"We need a plan." Nat declared.

"No, I just need to learn how to have a conversation with the man." You rolled your eyes at yourself. "I'll try talking to him again." You went to leave the room, turning around to glare at them. "And none of you can say a word of this to Bucky."

-

Despite you request, Steve still tried to talk to Bucky.

"What's up with you?" Steve questioned, trying to subtly pry into Bucky's thoughts.

"Nothing. Why?" Bucky answered in a questioning tone, trying to figure out Steve's motives.

"I heard you talked to Y/N is all. How'd it go?" He gave up on the subtle approach pretty quickly, knowing Bucky wouldn't answer a question that wasn't asked.

"How did you even hear that, punk?" Bucky deflected.

"Not the point. Answer the question."

"Not great. I messed it up." Bucky sighed, annoyed at himself for barging out of the room. "She said wanted to apologize, that she didn't mean what she said." He ran his hands through his hair, struggling to explain where it all went wrong.

"Would've been fine if I could follow what she was saying. She was rambling about me not liking her, which you and I both know isn't true. Ugh, i've never been mad at her. I'm mad at myself! At Hydra for making me a monster! How could she ever like me if she doesn't like violence? My entire past is violent." He huffed, having worked himself up again.

"You're not a monster, Buck." Steve started gently.

"I know you think that." Steve gave him a pointed glare. "I know, okay? But what does she think?"

"Maybe you should try talking to her. You might be surprised by what you learn." Steve clapped him on the shoulder, trying to reassure him, before leaving the room.

-

Everytime you tried to talk to Bucky, something got in the way. The first time, he was called in for an emergency mission before you even got the word hello out.

The second time, Tony walked into the common area, completely oblivious to the tension, and put on a movie.

The third time, Steve and Nat interrupted you. You were just about to apologize again after an awkward greeting when the elevator doors opened. The sounds of the cheerful laughter and stolen kisses didn't really set the mood for confessing your past with Hydra.

The fourth, and final time, was the most embarrassing.

You walked into the room on a mission. You were going to talk to him, no matter who decided to walk in.

"Bucky, I really need to-" and you tripped on a toy Morgan left out, causing you to tumble to the ground. That would have been embarrassing enough, but there's more.

In your effort to get up, you tripped again, hitting your head on the coffee table, causing you to bleed profusely.

"Shit." You cursed yourself, holding your hand up to your bleeding forehead.

"Are you okay?" Bucky rushed to you from the other side of the table, concerned with the amount of blood spewing from your head.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Unfortunately, you chose that moment to jokingly reference your past.

Some of the people who tortured you had a sick sense of humor. Whenever they would hit you hard enough to make you bleed, they said something about only having one head. A play on words because of the greek serpent with multiple heads.

"Head wounds bleed a lot, I'm lucky I only have one." You froze instantly, unsure if he would have had a similar experience. Slowly, you looked up in an effort to make eye contact.

Bucky was also frozen in place. Clearly he understood the reference.

"Wh- where did you hear that?" Bucky struggled with his sentence, trying not to flashback to his time at Hydra.

"Oh my god. I'm so so sorry." You instantly started apologizing, trying to backtrack. "I really need to learn when to stop fucking talking." You said more to yourself than him.

"Where did you hear it?" He asked again, putting more power behind his words.

"Um, well, i've been trying to tell you for weeks now, but um, I also kind of, have, um, well, you see-"

"Just spit it out." There was the slightly miffed Bucky you were used to.

"I was taken. By Hydra. 9 years ago. Um, they forced me to learn how to fight. Tortured me if I did anything wrong. Forced me to do things..." You trailed off, realizing you didn't need to give him many details. He has first hand experience.

"Y/N, I-" You cut him off before he could say anything else.

"That's why I don't like using violence. I only know how to do that stuff because they made me learn it. I didn't want to use the skills they gave me." You took a deep, grounding breath.

"I don't blame you for anything you were forced to do. It wasn't your choice. You're not a violent person, and your past actions don't define who you are. You're here to help people. That's what you chose. That's who you are."

You made eye contact before you continued. "I've actually wanted to thank you for the longest time."

"For what?" He was incredulous, wildly caught off guard by everything you've said.

"The only reason I had an opportunity to escape was because 2 years ago, you escaped. If Hydra's resources hadn't been spread so thin trying to find you, I probably would've never got out. So thank you. For being strong enough to fight back."

You smiled at him, still unsure of how he was feeling.

"I... I'm so sorry." To say you were stunned was an understatement. What the hell could he have to be sorry about? Sure he was a little rude, but from your point of view he was completely justified in hating you.

"Bucky, you have no reason to be sorry. You didn't know, and I couldn't get out of my head enough to tell you. You just make me nervous." You clapped a hand over your mouth, shocked at having said what you just said.

You could see his face fall ever so slightly, causing you to jump back into your explanation.

"Not because I'm scared of you or anything! Hell, I could probably take you in a fight." You winked, trying to lighten the mood. It seemed to work, judging by the slight smirk on his face.

"I just, I've looked up to you for so long. Your determination to do good after everything you've been through is really inspiring. It's actually why I wanted to join the Avengers in the first place. I never would have-" You would have kept rambling if he hadn't stopped you.

"Y/N, I am sorry, and I do have reason to be. There's no excuse for what I said to you in the kitchen that day. Even if I didn't know, I threw everything you've been through back in your face. If someone had done that to me, I probably would have had a panic attack." He tried joking, but by the way you froze he could tell he struck a nerve.

"You had a panic attack? I'm so sorry! God, I just left you all alone and-"

It was your turn to cut him off. "Actually, I was kind of frozen in place until Steve touched me and I maybe threw him to the ground... Then I had a panic attack..." You smiled, trying to convey the joke. "So, I wasn't alone. Sam was actually also there. If anything, it made me better friends with both of them because I told them everything. So I have you to thank for that to." You playfully nudged his side.

He ran his hands through his hair, then down his face, clearly trying to deal with his own guilt.

"Hey, don't beat yourself up about it. You didn't know. It happened. We're good now, so we can move on." You smiled, trying to cheer him up.

"How are you so relaxed about all of this? You were tortured for years... I..." He was genuinely curious, trying to find a way to cope with his own pain.

"Well, even before that I always thought therapy could be helpful for me, so I really jumped in full force when I was free. Plus, if you can't joke about something, you haven't really moved on. Some days are harder than others, but I just try to appreciate the people I have now and the good experiences I've been lead to." You kept the tone light, trying not to get too emotional.

He just stared at you for a few minutes, making you questions everything.

"I mean, it's totally different for you though! I was only there for 7 years, you were forced into all that for like 10 times as long. I didn't mean to belittle-"

"I think you inspire me just as much as you say I've inspired you." He cut you off again, a small smile growing on your lips.

"Well, in the spirit of our newfound friendship, can I be totally honest?" You bit your lip, nervous about telling him the truth.

He looked nervous as well, but nodded anyway.

"I kind of, maybe, sort of have a crush on you." You watched his expression carefully, although there was really no need. His face easily gave away his surprise.

"You..." He stuttered, moving his fingers between the two of you. "Me? But, I was so mean!"

"What can I say, I saw through the facade... Well, really Wanda accidentally read your mind and told me why you were so upset around me when her and Nat teamed up to get me to tell you how I feel." You rambled again, realization dawning that you accidentally outed Wanda.

"But you can't tell her I told you that! She didn't mean to! She just said you think really loud sometimes and it's hard not to hear it! She did it to me too actually, I mean I told her she could look in my head so I wouldn't have to explain everything again, I know so lazy, and that's how she confirmed my crush on you." You said it all with wide eyes at a rapid speed, unable to control yourself around Bucky.

You slapped your hands over your mouth, forcing yourself to stop talking. Bucky looked on in amusement, slowly reaching to pull your hands away from your face.

"I won't tell her, if you get dinner with me tonight." He smiled cheekily, relishing in your blush.

"That's a deal I'm willing to make." You reached your arms around his neck, kissing his cheek before running to get ready.

***

Bonus:

Sam whined playfully as he looked at the high scores. "Whose username is 'God is a spoon' and how did they get so good at this game?"

He looked around the room, eying any suspicious candidates. Everyone denied it, throwing out accusations left and right.

It was another of Tony's team bonding nights and he chose VR games on the oculus. Obviously, Beat Saber was a top contender amongst the group.

You walked in with Bucky, unaware of the conversation going on, but immediately joining it.

"Peter! I bet it was him!" You playfully nudged the younger Avenger, having formed a close friendship in the early days. "What am I betting on?" Everyone laughed, happy to see you in a good mood after being so stressed for so long.

"Whose username is 'God is a spoon'." Sam chuckled after filling you in. You and Bucky settled on the couch, cuddling next to each other.

"Oh, that's me. Why?" You looked around curiously, trying to figure out what they wanted. "Is it a weird username? It was actually one of the catchphrase things in Just Dance on the switch, I didn't just think of it." You tried to justify yourself, causing more laughter.

"You?! How did you get all the highscores on this game? I thought you were the clumsy one."

You made an exaggerated face to show how offended you were, playfully swatting at Sam.

"I'll have you know, 7 years of Hydra 'training' and experimentation has its perks." You joked with the room. "One of them being I can beat your ass at pretty much any video game."

"Oh, you're so on." Sam smiled, glad he could joke around with you about it.

Meanwhile, Tony looked incredulously around the room, being the only one in the room who hadn't heard about your history, he was rightfully confused.

"I'm sorry, 7 years of WHAT?"

[acourtofsnakes]

Returning The Favour - Bucky Barnes x F! Reader part 2 (smut)

Summary: After one hell of a day, you decide to help Bucky relax, and to repay the favour from a few nights ago. 

Warnings: 18+ only, smut ahead! Oral/blowjob – M receiving, hand job – m receiving, swearing/cursing, p in v sex (unprotected) – doggy style, face sitting, cowgirl, just pure filth, tbh. 

Smut under the cut!!

Word count: 4.5k+

A/n: A little bit of body positivity added in here too. You are all beautiful, and don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise  

A/N: This is part 2 of A Helping Hand, but as there isn’t much of a plot (aside from the smut. I mean, c’mon), it can also be read as a standalone!! It touches briefly on the plot of FATWS, but nothing really detailed. 

Permanet Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @mypedrom @undiscovered-misunderstood​

Part 1

A few weeks had passed by since that night Bucky had devoured you, tearing your soul to pieces and burning through you like wildfire. 

You hadn’t stopped thinking about it… and hadn’t stopped thinking about him. 

His hands on your body, searing lines into your skin, one hot and one cold. 

The drag of his tongue inside your walls, letting you ride his face whilst the world crashed down through you. 

His hand, that damned vibranium hand fucking you into oblivion. 

God, you needed him. You needed more of him, all of him. You wanted him to tear you apart again and knit you back together with his lips and his tongue. 

You wanted him to feel the same release you had the same earth-shattering pleasure. 

You’d tried to calm the fire by using your own fingers and toys, but no matter how much you replayed that night in your head – in perfect clarity – it just wasn’t the same anymore. 

Your toys, which you had spent a hell of a lot of money on… just didn’t do it. They weren’t enough. 

They weren’t… him. 

You couldn’t concentrate on your work, earning you more disapproval from Fury and he even asked you what the hell was going on and would you mind keeping your thoughts on the job, not on whatever was making you zone into space for twenty minutes straight with that look on your face. 

Luckily, you had managed to escape anymore of Nick’s wrath, by tagging along with Bucky as he went to help Sam, who was engaged in trying to take down a group of rebels called the Flag Smashers. 

You’d arrived to help him and the three of you set about doing what you could, also whilst trying to avoid John Walker, who had been rebranded as the new Captain America. 

Touchy subject. Best not to go there. 

Anyway, back on the case of the Flag Smashers.  They were being supplied with Super soldier serum from someone called the Power Broker, and the boys were at a loose end as to how to learn more. 

Well of course, there was one person who was the most knowledgeable about the serum. 

Helmut Zemo, a Sokovian villain who looked like he’d walk straight out of a film about British spies, fast cars and imaginative villains. 

You knew Bucky’s past with him, of course. 

You had fought alongside the others when Zemo triggered Bucky into becoming the Winter Soldier again. 

So, you had to admit you were surprised when you learned that Bucky himsef had ‘hypothetically’ given Zemo the way out of his German prison. 

Plans had been made, which is how tonight, you’d found yourself in Madripoor, each of you posing as a different persona. 

Sam was to be the ‘Smiling Tiger.” 

You were Zemo’s… acquaintance. His “Little Bird” he’d called you – much to Bucky’s frustration. At first, you thought it was simply because Zemo was… well, he was a ‘bad guy’. 

But as the night wore on, you noticed the looks Bucky shot the pair of you, his jaw clenching every single time Zemo’s hand brushed your waist, or he pressed his nose to your hair. 

The Baron didn’t touch you in any way you hadn’t already discussed, and you were comfortable but… the icy glint in Bucky’s eye, the tightening of his mouth when you asked him what was wrong, and he stayed silent… 

Something more was going on. More than just the role he was required to play. 

Bucky was be the Winter Soldier again. The very man he tried so desperately to escape from, the man who’s actions he was still trying to make amends for. 

You’d had to watch him play the Soldier all night, watch the tension build and build in the clenched muscle of his jaw, in the hard line of his shoulders and the tight prowl in his walk. 

Which was why, after escaping a fight and getting a little banged up yourself, you were looking into the mirror in your hotel room, adjusting the straps of the lingerie set you had slipped into. 

Okay, so maybe it was cliché. 

But Bucky had had one hell of a night. You could practically feel the tension rolling off of him from his hotel room opposite your own. 

You still had a favour to repay him, so why not go all out? He deserved it. 

Besides, you had spent a long time working up the confidence to look into the mirror and be happy and proud of what you saw, instead of feeling the need to change. 

You were proud of yourself and needed no-one else’s approval. 

But it didn’t mean it wasn’t rewarding to hear. 

Especially from a man with a wicked jawline and killer baby-blues. 

With one final shake of your hair, you pulled on your silky robe, padding to the door of your hotel room and you slipped into the cool hallway. Goosebumps rose on your skin as you moved across the plush carpet, knocking on Bucky’s door. 

Thank the lords, saints, old-gods and the new that Zemo was a Baron. This hotel was expensive, luxurious and did not have that funky smell that most hotels seemed to have. 

The rooms were lavish and richly decorated, the bathroom dripping with taste and money and the bed… well. The bed was certainly big enough for what you had in mind tonight. 

You were thoroughly determined to wreck the neatly folded covers. 

A few moments later, you heard footsteps and then the door opened. Those eyes greeted you, though they were deeper, like the colour of the sea in a storm. 

Bucky tilted his head, one hand braced on the door to open it, frowning slightly when he saw you. It was late after all. “Is everything alright, doll?” He peered down the hallway, like he was looking for threats. 

You shook your head lightly, “Nothing’s wrong, Bucky…” Lifting your eyes to his through your lashes, you moved your hands to the front of your robe, “I just thought I’d return the favour. And help you relax…” 

At your honeyed tone, at the movement in your hands, Bucky went rigid. Less in a tense way, more in anticipation. His eyes zeroed in on your hands, watching as you undid the sash and let the silk robe fall open, baring your body to him. 

Clad in gorgeous lace and delicate fabric of your favourite colour, the lingerie clung to the shape of your body, flaunting it and accentuating every beautiful line. 

Oh, it had so been worth the small fortune it cost. 

You were glad you had purchased more.

The door creaked, wood protesting as his vibranium arm gripped it. Bucky’s pupils dilated, black blotting out the blue as he raked his eyes over every inch of you. It wasn’t creepy or possessive. It was… worshipping. Awestruck. 

You had him in the palm of your already. 

Soon, it would be physically. 

“Are you going to let me in, Buck? There’s so many ways I could help you relax…” You let the robe slip off of your shoulders, leaving you incredibly bare in the middle of the very open hallway, in the very expensive, reputable hotel. 

But you didn’t care. 

Not with the way his Arctic eyes had deepened to the colour of cobalt, searing into you with the same fire that he had consumed with the other night. 

Not as he stood back, letting you in and following every single movement you made, the sway of your hips, the feline smile gracing your lips as you sashayed past him. He was enraptured by you, rendered helpless by the mere sight of you.

You saw his hands clench just before he turned to shut the door, like he was stopping himself from pulling you into his body and shredding the scraps of lace and velvet that were a barrier to your gorgeous skin and curves. 

The door snicked shut softly, shutting you both off from the rest of the world. 

You turned to face Bucky, extending your hand to him, “Come here.” You kept that honey rich tone, but you had no need to raise your voice, because Bucky had moved before the words even left your mouth. 

He slid his left hand into yours, the vibranium cool against the warmth of your skin. It was welcome, for you were burning an inferno inside that you were hiding very, very well. In fact, you were already wet, since the moment you slipped that lingerie on and saw your refection in the mirror. 

You pressed your lips to the back of Bucky’s hand, saying with movement what you knew he wouldn’t believe in words. 

That it was beautiful, strong… an extension of the graceful, deadly power that he had honed. You were never, ever afraid of it. Not even tonight, when he was playing the Soldier. Not even when he was the Soldier. 

Lifting your eyes to his, you let your tongue dart out, tracing along the golden grooves in the plates of dark vibranium. 

Fuck, the mere taste of the cool metal brought you back to that night. 

You moaned a little in the back of your throat, appreciatively and flattened your tongue over his knuckles, bringing his fingers into your mouth and sucking on them delicately, just as you had before. Except this time, it was you in charge. 

Bucky twitched, in every sense of the word. The plates of his arm clicked just faintly, like he was restraining himself even as a soft growl rumbled in the base of his chest. The sight of you sucking on his fingers again only made his jeans even more uncomfortable and he longed to feel your hot wet tongue on his skin. Every single inch of his skin. 

His own hand wasn’t enough anymore, especially not after that night. It had been near painful for him when he left, and he’d barely made it back to his own room before his hand was jamming into his boxers and he fucked his own palm until he was crying your name through gritted teeth. 

Never before had he felt such an urge to have feeling in his left hand, to feel your walls clench around him as you fell apart above him. 

It was like you could read his mind. 

You slipped off of his fingers with a small pop, a wicked gleam in your eyes as you dropped your hands to his belt buckle. Seconds later, you were undoing the zipper to his jeans, wasting no time in looping your fingers into both the waistband of his jeans, and the band of his boxers. 

You pulled them slowly down, lower and lower past his hips until his heavy swollen cock sprung free. 

Holy fucking shit. 

He was huge. 

Thick and smooth, the head already swollen and leaking. 

You wanted to taste him. 

You wanted him down your throat and buried inside you every single way until you could feel nothing but him, think of nothing but him. 

Forcing back your impatience, you slowly lowered, pulling his jeans down until they reached his ankles, and you were on your knees before him. 

Looking up through your eyelashes, you saw his head tilted down to watch you, is chin touching his chest. Those ridiculous eyes were fiercely burning, and his full, plush lips had parted in an effort to suck in more air. 

Oh, you were going to wreck him. 

You rose up a little higher, pressing your lips to the patch of neatly trimmed curls before following a trail lower, and then dragging your tongue up the underside of his cock, over that swollen vein that made you positively feral. 

Bucky’s hands flew into your hair, a barely restrained groan rising from his chest and he muttered, “Shit – shit.” 

Barely able to restrain the grin, you darted your tongue into the tiny slit, gathering that little bead of precum and then you took him into your mouth, inch by inch.

Fucking hell.

He was heavy, hot in your mouth and the velvety feel of his skin against your tongue and teeth was something you might just have died to feel again. 

You kept him still for a second, really wanting to draw this out for him – and because the weight of him against your jaw was sending floods of pleasure between your thighs and you knew the expensive lace of your underwear was already drenched. 

Bucky twitched, both inside your mouth and out and he tugged a little on your hair, “Baby, you gotta move – please, move.” 

Had this been a normal game you were playing; you might have let him suffer a little longer. But this was about relaxing him, about making him feel better so you granted him his wish and began to bob your head up and down. 

His soft moans were a symphony to your ears, a song you quickly learned the rhythm of as you moved faster, hollowing your cheeks now and then so he felt the drag of your wet, warm cheeks. 

His moans turned into curses when you reached up to toy with his balls, massaging them just slightly as you dragged your lower teeth against the vein. 

He jerked forward, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat suddenly, “Fuck, sorry baby, I didn’t mean to-“ 

His apologies were almost stammered, but you swiftly cut him off with a sinful moan. 

The mere feel of him, the pressure of him pushing against your throat nearly made you explode there and then. 

Your eyes rolled back slightly, hips rocking against nothing by instinct and fingers digging into his thighs. 

Bucky swore softly under his breath, his voice nothing more than a broken whisper, “You – you liked that?” 

Nodding around him, you pulled all the way off briefly, “Yes.” You gasped the word, pumping him with your hand a few times before taking him in your mouth again, sucking him with all the force of someone eating a five-star meal. 

You devoured him, setting a relentless pattern of kitten licks, hollowing your cheeks and licking that throbbing vein. You let him brush the back of your throat a few times, never gagging, only crying out with pleasure at the press of him. 

And Bucky’s moans… God, you could forgo music for the rest of your life and listen only to those noises his made. 

Wanting more, more of those delicious moans and growls from him, you relaxed the muscles in your throat, pushing him down all the way until your nose was once again brushing his curls. 

It was hard to distinguish your moan from his, the way his hands yanked hard in your hair, your fingers digging into his ass cheeks to force him deeper down your throat. You took a deep breath in through your nose, moaning at the heady scent of him as it pervaded your sense. 

More, - you wanted to take him deeper and deeper until you couldn’t speak tomorrow without feeling him there. 

You slid a hand down, grasping his balls once again and you palmed them, massaging and tugging them as you shook your head lightly against him, making him rock against your windpipe.

“Fuck!” Bucky’s head tilted back, his rough moan bouncing off the elaborately decorated walls and his legs trembled, signalling how close he was, how thoroughly you were hauling him toward that edge. 

You felt his balls tighten in your hand, felt how close he was so you squeezed them harder and at the same time, swallowed around the thick length of him.  

A broken version of your name echoed above your, both of his hands tightening in your hair so fiercely, you feared he might snap a bone. “Shit, shit-” His hips jerked forward and then he shattered apart, exploding in hot ropes down your throat. 

You heard him mutter an apology, but you didn’t care, you couldn’t care because he tasted divine. 

You drew back slowly, pumping him a few times with your free hand until he was gasping in a ragged breath, his legs threatening to give way, so with a gentle judge, you pushed him back on the bed. 

He plopped down weakly, watching with wide eyes as you lifted your head, wiping the corner of your mouth with a feline grin. “Sweetheart, that was-“

A finger to his lips cut him off, “Oh, no no. I’m not done with you yet, Buck.” You quickly rid him of his shirt, revealing the broad plane of his shoulders and chest and then you urged him up the bed. As he lay back, you climbed on top of him, rising up on your knees. “I believe you made me come… three times was it?” 

And that was when James Buchanan Barnes whimpered. A sound of pure carnal need and anticipation. 

You grinned at him, reaching behind your chest to unclasp the delicate bra, before sliding it from your shoulders and throwing it to the side of the room. “I intend to repay the favour, and then some, Soldier.” You reached down for both his hands, placing them on your breasts. One warm, one icy cold. 

Both your moans echoed in tandem, especially when he tightened his hands, squeezing and pulling at the soft flesh. “So beautiful…” He mumbled the words lowly, his voice a rough rasp and his ministrations caused you to arch your back further into his touch, allowing yourself a moment of pleasure. 

But not for too long, because you soaked through the lace of your underwear, and you might well have been dripping down your thigh at this point. Dropping a hand, you moved your underwear to the side, before gliding your fingers through your glistening folds. 

Yep, you were right. 

“All of this is for you, Bucky. Because of how good you tasted in my mouth.” You moaned delicately, eyelashes fluttering as you circled your clit a few times, “How thick you were in my throat.” You gathered some of your wetness on your fingertips, before pressing them to Bucky’s lips, “See...”

He wasted no time in drawing your fingers into his mouth, dragging his teeth along the skin and cleaning every single millimetre. He seemed determined to pay you back, to try and make you feel some of the desperation he had felt. 

You let it go, only because the combination of his hands pulling at your nipples and his hot tongue sliding between your fingers. You lowered down, resting over his already hardened length before dragging up and down it a few times, coating him in your slick. Low moans came from your throat, your eyes fluttering closed as you rocked yourself against him, waiting for him to recover for round two. 

He soon groaned around your fingers, earning you a muffled, “Baby.” In an impatient tone as he twitched underneath you, hard and throbbing again.

Fine, you could give in. 

You grasped his cock, before rising up and then lowering back down, taking him in. 

Every single damn inch of him. 

The stretch of your walls was painfully delicious, making you throw your head back and cry out softly, a low keen until you were seated on his thighs again. He was buried to the hilt inside of you and you could feel him everywhere. In your belly, in your toes, in your spine even. 

Bucky’s back arched off of the bed, teeth clamping down on your fingers and his hands tightening on your breasts, before falling to your thighs where his fingertips dug into the soft flesh, “Fucking hell.” He gasped in a breath, lowering his head, “Look at me.” 

The words were choked as you dropped your chin, meeting his eyes and the look int hem nearly floored you. 

Near midnight blue with desire and lust, but they glinted like the night sky, full of admiration and… adoration of you. Complete and utter adoration. 

Shit.

You stayed where you were for a second, speechless from the look of unbarred emotion on his face as the pair of you adjusted. Bucky soon swallowed, croaking again, “Move, darlin’ – please, move.” 

Well, you didn’t need telling twice. 

You rose up off him a few inches, before dropping back down with enough force to sear your spine in half. You quickly set an earth-shattering pace, rising up before sinking back down, his hips rising to meet you and push that little bit further inside. 

Once again, the room filled with the scent of sex, the symphony of your bodies gliding with each other, mixed with Bucky’s rough moans and mutterings and your keening cries. 

His hands grasped your hips, tight enough to bruise even with his right hand, but you didn’t care. You wanted to be marked, you wanted to feel him tomorrow. 

And you wanted to mark him too. 

You dropped down over his body, bringing him for a messy, deep kiss that was all stroking tongues and teeth. 

He groaned into your mouth when you rotated your hips around him, this new angle causing your clit to drag against his firm muscles and rough curls. 

The sensation was absolutely mind-blowing, and you dragged your mouth from his to bite at his jaw and neck, swearing against his hot skin, “Fucking hell, Bucky, you feel so good. You have no idea how good you feel – filling me up. So big-” The words were stumbly, broken sentences but you knew he understood them because he matched them. 

Telling you how tight you were, how deep you were taking him. How good you looked fucking yourself and taking what you deserved – it was all yours. 

You soon felt the pressure build in your lower back and belly, at the same time Bucky’s hips were snapping up into yours with more urgency. Quickly, you dragged yourself back to sit up, and began to ride him with wild abandon. His left hand came up to yours, giving you an anchor as you fucked him relentlessly, making the pair of you cry out with wordless groans of ecstasy. 

To Bucky, you looked like – no, you were a goddess. Your body moving with carnal grace, head thrown back and those gorgeous moans and curses falling from your parted lips. 

To him… there would never be a more beautiful sight. 

Just as you began to grind your hips in circles with each downward motion, words started to spill from those plush lips, like he wasn’t in control, “You have no idea how much I wanted to tear Zemo apart tonight. His hands all over you – they shouldn’t be there. You shouldn’t be touched like that.” 

His lips parted wider for a moment, his hips thrusting up to meet your circular motions and it made the head of his cock thud against that spot deep inside you, sending shockwaves through your spine. 

Your whimpering plea spurred him on, kept him hitting that spot with hard pressure that threatened to tear you to pieces, “You’re a goddess - Not a fucking piece of arm candy. The sight of him touching you-” He snarled, pulling you down hard on his dick for a second, taking the opportunity to rotate his own hips this time, “That should be me. Worshipping you. Not him.” 

His rough words and the sheer intensity of his thrusted hurtled you closer and closer to that edge, the admissions sending just as much pleasure through you as his hard length. 

That should be me.

Did he mean…?

You looked down through hazed eyes, like you were seeing all of this with a fresh gaze. 

Bucky was already a mess beneath you, his head tilted back, and the line of his throat held taught. His deep curls with a mess, ruffled up over his forehead and the pillows. 

Beautiful. 

Bucky’s hips were starting to lose rhythm as he jerked up into you, but he never failed to repeatedly hit that spot, again and again. 

You both chased down your orgasms, and with one final grind of your hips, one final sharp jerk of his own, you fell to pieces in tandem. 

Bucky’s back arched, freezing as he spurted his hot load up inside you, at the same time your walls clenched around him, milking him for everything he had as your combined wetness slipped down his balls, making a mess of his skin – and the bed. 

Like either of you could care. 

Time lost all meaning yet again as you came down from your high, and later, you’d remember only by the places your bodies occupied. 

Bucky hauled you up, finished with the lack of control and he took you against the floor to ceiling windows, your breasts pressed to the cool glass, the city twinkling below you as Bucky fucked you deep from behind, that vibranium hand against fitted snug around your throat. 

Then on the plush rug in front of the fireplace, his dick sliding down your throat again as his tongue dragged between your folds, your knees braced either side of his head as you held onto his thighs. 

When you retired to the sunken tub to wash up, you found yourself seated on Bucky’s lap, riding him once more with the hot, jasmine scented water splashing over the ornate tiles, your combined moans mingling with the steamy air. 

The whole time, Bucky’s words played over and over in your head, echoing in the tiny space of your mind that wasn’t sex-addled. 

He wanted to be the one to walk into a club with you on his arm. He wanted everyone in the room to know he worshipped the very ground you walked on, the air that you breathed. 

It wasn’t like the feelings weren’t reciprocated either. 

It had been the blue-eyed soldier in the forefront of your mind for months and months now, perhaps even far before that. 

And it wasn’t until you were back on the bed, covers strewn on the floor that things truly shifted. 

Bucky’s hands were gripping your thighs, pulling you down to fuck his face and tongue whilst you gripped onto the headboard, his groans of delight muffled against your wet heat. 

The feeling was… other-worldly. 

Your sexual partners of the past had gone down on you, sure. You’d even been in this exact position once, but it was nothing compared to Bucky. 

No one worked you over with the same acute knowledge of what you liked, before you even knew it yourself. 

His nose nudged against your clit, providing the perfect pressure whilst he spearheaded his tongue deep within you. Every time he did, he pulled you lower, shaking his head from side to side so that his stubble scratched your sensitive inner thighs and your swollen folds.  

Words were beyond you, and all you could do was make incoherent moans and keens, sure the people in the rooms surrounding yours could hear your screams, but you didn’t care. 

Especially when Bucky dragged his teeth over your clit, ever so lightly biting it and causing you to hurtle into the outer atmosphere and forget everything.  

You collapsed, losing the tension in your legs and only Bucky’s hands shooting up to your ribs stopped you from smashing your forehead on the wall. 

Light exploded across your vision, your blood roaring in your ears and you couldn’t move, your body was completely boneless. You were truly spent, muscles twitching with aftershocks and you only just noticed Bucky coaxing you to lay down next to him. 

You faded in and out of a warm haze, registering a warm cloth gliding between your legs, over your flushed skin. 

“Go on a date with me.” 

The soft words underlined with that oh-so familiar rasp brought you rushing back to the present. “You... what?” 

“Go on a date with me.”

You snapped your eyes open, only to be met with the Arctic ocean, almost glowing from within with sated desire. 

Curling your lips up into a smile, you gently dragged Bucky’s head down to yours, pressing your lips to his equally swollen ones, “Okay.” 

[londonalozzy]

Stop Pretending (TFATWS)

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst

Summary: The reader thinks she's doing a stellar job of keeping her feelings for a certain soldier buried deep inside. Turns out, all it takes is an observant new friend to begin the unraveling of her most precious secret (Spoilers for TFATWS)

Masterlist

Word: Pretence

Definition: A way of acting that is intended to deceive people.

Example: Saying that he's just a friend when he's really the love of your life.

Your POV

Being caught in the midst of war is something that I, (Y/N) (Y/L/N)  know all too well. As a war vet, former shield agent, and now Avenger I'm used to being centered amongst conflict. When the fight begins within me though, a battle between what I want and what I think is right, how will I react? Will I listen to my heart, my head, or will the winner be chosen for me?

Delacroix, Louisiana.....

I love my sleep, always have, always will. It's not necessarily the comfort of the bed, the quiet or even the rest. It's the fact that I'm at peace when I sleep. My life has a tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, so anything that will put that off for as long as possible I savor.

I wish it were the same for a certain super soldier in my life. I look forward to going to bed, everything calms down then, and for most people it's the same. For Bucky however, it's when everything starts, the nightmares, the terrors, the seemingly unending darkness. If only I could take his pain away like he has with mine.

For the last few weeks, my life had, for want of a better word, been hectic. Hectic to say the least.

After the eventual defeat of Thanos and the loses we endured as a result, I thought naively that life might calm down a bit, that I'd have time to breathe, to live. How wrong I was.

It all began with John Walker being announced to the world as the new Captain America.

I was baking cookies with Morgan in the Stark family kitchen when it came over the radio. As that latest turn of events sunk in, my first thoughts were of Bucky, what that would do to him. Not even an hour later I had said my goodbyes and was on my way to help him get the shield back.

Since then even more had happened. We'd regrouped with Sam, busted Zemo out of prison which in turn ruffled the feathers of Ayo and the Dora Milaje. We came face to face with Morgenthou and the Flag Smashers, and finally witnessed the man who thought he could even compete with Steve, make himself judge, jury and most significantly executioner.

After that went around the world we knew we had to end it sooner rather than later. It couldn't get much worse than Captain America becoming a murderer. We got the shield back, which was a fight all in itself. Handed Zemo over to Ayo, to try and recompense for the distrust we'd instilled in the people who'd helped us so much. Then we travelled to stay with Sam and his family in Louisiana whilst we waited for Karli's next move.

This is where we found ourselves now, in the eye of it, the calm before the storm.

Waking up in the Wilson households guest room, I was greeted to the golden hue of the rising sun penetrating through the single glaze windows, and the melodic sounds of gulls on the hunt for their morning meal down by the docks.

Actually, no that's not right. What I could hear was most certainly not birds, and it was definitely not melodic. What were those boys doing?

Quickly and quietly I threw on the first clothes I could get my hands on and made my way downstairs towards the noise. What caught my attention when I discovered the source, was not the two youngest Wilson boys playing with our newly reacquired shield in the living room, but the super solider who was blissfully ignorant to it all, sleeping peacefully on the couch in front of them. I don't think I'd ever been so happy.

"Right you two, if you're determined to play Avengers all morning then I suggest you re-assemble in the back yard. You're gonna wake Bucky up," I whispered out in one breath, stepping between the boys, then placing my hands on their backs and tip toeing them towards the door.

"So what if we wake him up? It's gone 10am," Cass questioned in protest, pulling on his sneakers and jacket.

"Exactly! Which is why if you do as I say, I will make you the biggest plate of waffles for breakfast that you've ever seen."

The boys eyes lit up. "Can we have ice cream with it? Mum never lets us have ice cream for breakfast, and I'm sure there's a tub of Stark raving hazelnuts in the freezer," AJ clapped in muted excitement. "Oh, for God's sake.....Yes. You can have whatever you want if you get out of this house now and keep the noise down."

Once the boys were outside, I made my way over to the kitchen, stopping on the way to lean over my favourite senior citizen and make sure that he was still peaceful in his slumber. He'd never looked so relaxed, so at ease. It was a brand new Bucky I'd never seen before, a Bucky that had my heart pounding for him even more than it normally did. Not that he knew any of that.

Half an hour later and up to my elbows in waffle mix, I failed to notice my new friend and host Sarah making her way to my side at the counter, the huge smile on my face not going unnoticed. "What's got you grinning like the Cheshire cat, like I need to ask?"

"Bucky's sleeping. Isn't it amazing?" I spoke softly, bouncing up and down on my feet as I did so.

"And why is that?" She couldn't looked more confused if she tried.

"In all the years I've known him, I don't think I've ever woken up before he has. If his nightmares don't keep him awake all night, they normally have him up before the crack of dawn. I don't think I've ever seen him so still."

"Good answer," Sarah nodded in a hush, understanding why this meant so much to me, but not done yet with her morning interrogations, "Now on to my next question......"

"I'm already not liking the sound of this."

"Sleeping Beauty over there follows you around like a little puppy dog. He hangs on your every word, looks at you like you hung the stars or something. It's pretty obvious how crazy he is about you, so when are you gonna stop pretending that you're not head over heels in love with him?"

"I don't know what you're talking about Wilson," I smiled forcefully, making out like the waffle maker deserved my attention way more than the conversation I was being made to have.

This was all Sam's doing, without a shadow of a doubt. He'd tried to have this conversation with me on multiple occasions and I shut him down every time. He obviously hadn't given up like I thought he did, and decided to draft in his sister. He is seriously gonna regret it when I find him.

"Sure you know what I'm talking about. Sam sees it, I don't even know you that well and I see it. The only reason Bucky doesn't, is because he doesn't believe he could ever be that lucky. You're a smitten kitten." These Wilson's are all as annoying as each other.

Knowing I wasn't getting out of this one, I grabbed Sarah by the arm and pulled her right into the corner of the room, trying my best to keep this convo as private as possible. "Look, I'm not pretending.....I'm ignoring. There's a difference."

"Care to explain what that difference is?" Sarah spoke softly, but with a sarcastic air.

Turning to look over my shoulder at the subject of our conversation, making sure he was still safely in the land of nod, I decided to just be honest. Sarah was much like her brother. Once she wanted to get to the bottom of something she wasn't about to give up.

"I love Bucky, more than I've ever loved anyone...and that terrifies me," the rawness of finally being honest making my voice shake, and tears come to my eyes. "Nat was like my sister, and she's dead. Tony was the closest I've ever gotten to having a Dad...and he's dead too. Then there's Steve, Vision, God knows where Wanda is....Everyone I love, either leaves or dies. If I admit my feelings for Buck then I face the risk of losing him too."

"Do you have any idea how crazy you sound right now? He's not going to die because you love him (Y/N)."

Silent tears were falling now. I was revealing my deepest fears to a woman I'd only known a few days, and I'm not underplaying it when I say it was like a colossal weight off my chest, a release I didn't know I needed. "Believe me...I know, but I can't take that risk. I can't lose anyone else, especially not him."

"Let's just say for a second that you're right, that there is some higher power somewhere, set on destroying everyone you love. Do you really think ignoring your feelings is going to make them disappear?" I didn't know what to say to that. "Natasha and Stark died so that everyone could continue living, and (Y/N) you're not living as long as you keep this to yourself. They wouldn't want that for you."

"But what if I lose him?" I whispered with a choked sigh.

"Then at least he'll die knowing how you felt about him. After everything he's been through don't you think he deserves to know there's someone out there who loves him like you do?"

"Of course..."

Sarah's lips pulled upwards in a satisfied smirk, wrapping her arm around my shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze, "then you owe it to yourself, and to him, to tell him the truth."

"Why do all you Wilson's have to be so clever?" I voiced in mock irritation, pushing her away from me and acting like I was annoyed she had gotten one up on me.

"I don't know," she thought aloud and with a cheeky grin, grabbing a plate to start piling on the long forgotten waffles, "I think it might be the sea air or something."

"Nah, it's in the genes," I chuckled quietly, grabbing my jacket and deciding it was time to get this conversation wrapped up. "I'll go find Sam and the boys for breakfast. Clear my head a little bit."

"You promise you're gonna tell him?" Sarah stopped me as I went to push the door open.

"I'll think about it."

3rd person POV

Once (Y/N) was out of ear shot, Sarah couldn't help but start jumping up and down in excitement, clapping her hands loudly as she did so. That went even better than she thought it would, and she was so proud of herself. Sarah Wilson could now add matchmaker to her resume.

"Coast is clear Barnes. You can open your eyes now."

(Y/N) had no idea what she had metaphorically walked into just minutes earlier, entering that very revealing conversation with her overly inquisitive host.

What drew Sarah to come down that morning was the sounds of both the front porch door opening and the smell of homemade waffles wafting up the stairs. As she entered the kitchen she was met with two sights. One being (Y/N), facing the counter and looking very smiley, the other being a wide awake super soldier who was just laying on the couch and staring at her, the sole object of his affection. Sarah could work with this.

Every time (Y/N) turned back in his direction, Bucky would close his eyes and pretend to be asleep again. He had never slept so soundly, so peacefully, thoughts of (Y/N) and his new friends filling his nightmare free dreams.

He'd initially woken to (Y/N) ushering the boys outside because she was afraid they would wake him up. He didn't want to disappoint her by proving her right. Besides, he liked just watching her move around the kitchen, completely unaware he was observing her the whole time. He had no idea about the conversation that was just about to happen.

After (Y/N) had left and Sarah had confirmed so, Bucky sat himself up, his body shaking with adrenaline and a look of complete shock fixed on his face. Had he definitely woken up, or had the whole thing been a part of his dream? Did (Y/N) seriously just admit that she was in love with him?

Bucky didn't know how to react, didn't know what to say as he looked up at a smug Sarah from his spot. All he'd ever wanted was for (Y/N) to feel the same way about him as he did about her. Now he knew that she did.

"You're welcome by the way."

[starker1975]

Stephen Strange could play around with an apple and make it rot and go back to fresh and unbitten. They tryna tell me he couldn't have done the same glowy time-turning thing for Tony Stark as he was dying of his injuries? Enough so he could be saved? Also the whole team hand-holding thing in Guardians Of The Galaxy, why didn't they try that? People give me the excuse that Quill was a half-god at the time and I'm like ??? Thor is a God! On the Avengers team they also had The Hulk, not one but two fecken super soldiers, A mighty powerful Spider-Man, Dr. Strange and his magic buddies, The Scarlet witch, and mutherfucken Captain Marvel?! They couldn't have done the same thing to save Tony? To stand together in that epic battle against Thanos and his homies? Why were the rUsSos so willing to kill RDJ off, he was like one of the best things in the entire MCU. They could have thought something up to save him if they wanted to. Also I'm PMS:ing hard and I just get so upset sometimes with how they let go of Tony in such a way. Sorry, I just had to vent! ^_^

I think you’re completely right. I even had a seven paragraph rant typed out explaining why; I backspaced it all since it was long winded, but it all lead up to the conclusion that Tony died and sacrificed everything for nothing—for people who didn’t deserve or appreciate it. Not because he had to die, but because they wanted him dead. I went over a few key moments in the MCU where his unfair treatment is revealed, but here are two main ones:

In the beginning, he was originally rejected from the Avengers, and proceeded to save everybody in the battle of NY. Then, Steve Rogers still had his name go first on the memorial placard even though he barely did anything.

And in the end, they cut the scene on the endgame battlefield where every single hero took a knee to honour Tony. (I guess we should be grateful he got a funeral since Natasha got fuck all too. Easy to see who the writers’ favourites are.)

All that to show that he’s disrespected by writers and therefore the other characters themselves. Nothing he did was ever good enough for anybody, and he was consistently written off as an irredeemable douche. They gave him his happy ending and took it away. 😃 (although I would argue over whether an ending with Pepper was ideal since she mostly complained and rejected his identity for their entire relationship—again, a writer issue bc they tend to make women discontent nags. But still.)

I don’t know. It’s just depressing really. Tony didn’t have to die and he shouldn’t have. I mean…he’s iconic and a badass, so him dying while making the ultimate sacrifice and then getting a statue and documentary etc. is an excellent fuck-you to his doubters/enemies. But of course, it’s not as effective as it should be because people STILL talk about shit his pre-IM1 character, and Beck and his minions came for the barf glasses in FFH because they couldn’t let him rest. (Not to mention Toomes in Homecoming was anti Tony too as if he caused the Battle of NY—they even make Spider-Man villains be villains of Tony they hate him so much.) (even the Iron Man trilogy villains aren’t bad people Tony decided to stop himself, they were specifically people who HATED TONY. Stane and Hammer out of jealousy etc., Vanko for something Howard did to his dad, and Killian bc Tony was mean to him once.)

And that’s all just canon bullshit. Don’t get me started on the MCU fandom. I once saw a tik tok where someone criticized the new Captain America bc his intro on the football field with the marching band was too similar to Iron Man and his cheerleaders in IM2, meanwhile Steve Rogers used to have dancers and a play while he toured the front lines??? Like out of all the reasons this fool could’ve criticized John Walker, he chose to compare his MARCHING BAND INTRO to Tony’s Expo cheerleaders. Like what a fucking reach!!! (Meanwhile golden boy Steve can do whatever he wants and still be worthy of mjolnir) That’s how much people hate him lmao. Our king should’ve just snapped Peter back and let everyone else rot.

OOPS I turned it into a long answer again. Hahahaha. Anyways. Fuck anyone who isn’t Tony Stark. That’s my point.

[strawwritesfic]

Brock Rumlow x Female!Former SHIELD Agent!Reader: Revenge Is a Dish Best Served Fried

Summary: All old flames grow cold eventually–Excepting, of course, yours.

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T (bad language, torture, physical abuse, beating, brainwashing, post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier)

Fic Trade Prompt: “Don’t make my job too easy~ ;)” Plus, I got to pick the character to write for this time around.

Revenge Is a Dish Best Served Fried

You awoke with a start in complete darkness with one hell of a headache pounding through your skull. Where you were and how you’d got to wherever that was you didn’t know, but it didn’t feel like you’d come along willingly. A multitude of invisible cuts stung up and down your body; your stomach felt as though it had had its contents punched out of it recently; and maybe you couldn’t see to confirm this, but you were pretty sure your left eye was swollen shut. Worst of all, every cell inside of you felt dry and hot and buzzy, as though you’d spent the evening before playing test subject for a new line of Tasers.

But what had happened mattered very little in comparison to your present predicament. You could catalog injuries once you were definitely safe. It didn’t take long for you to decide that your current location wasn’t that. Straining your ears, you heard nothing. No hum of electricity. No faint whir of a security camera. No chattering from anyone keeping guard. Eerie, you thought, until you decided to stand up…

…and found your arms clamped tightly to a couple of armrests. You had not realized that you were sitting down in an actual chair until you were unable to lift your wrists. Try as you might, no matter what angle you used, the restraints wouldn’t budge. Your ankles were in a similar state. Gritting your teeth, you mentally prepared to dislocate the bones. Nothing you hadn’t done before, but never a pleasant prospect. On the count of three. Three…two–

“Good morning,” came a deep voice from another corner of the room, “sweetheart.”

The sudden appearance of someone in your cell was not what caused you to freeze. No, you only stopped your attempts to get loose because you recognized the voice. You squinted into the dark. Still you could hear no breathing, see nothing further than the pitch black two inches from your nose. But then again, this man should have been a ghost.

“Brock?” you asked, voice raspy. Sounded (and felt) like you’d been smacked in the trachea, too.

A rumble of laughter answered you, but no footsteps. “I don’t go by that name anymore. But it’s good to hear you haven’t forgotten me entirely. Thought you might have, the way you’ve been treating me.”

Those three sentences were all it took to force the shock out of your system and flood it instead with frustration and anger. You clenched your fists into useless balls, rattling your cuffs as you did.

“I haven’t been treating you any way,” you said. “Not since INSIGHT. Not since Hydra.”

You glared in the direction from which Brock’s voice had issued, but still you could see no sign of him. Wherever you were, there were no windows. He had to be there, though; you hadn’t heard him move away or out. Sure enough, when he spoke again, he sounded close by:

“Don’t pretend that you leaving had anything to do with either of those.”

“Oh yeah? And why else would I leave you? Because you’re such a wonderful person, I’d be a fool not to stay?”

This time, the silence that stretched out after your final question lasted long enough for you to start wondering if Brock really was in there with you. He always did know how to stay silent and still–a boon working as the head of STRIKE–but even he had to shift sometimes, even he had to breathe. Maybe he had an intercom rigged up. You tried to hold your breath to listen for him again to no avail. Then you did hear a breath, a long, rattling almost laugh.

“Oh, I don’t know.” A click sounded just before the room was flooded with light. Your eyes snapped shut to avoid the pain that surged through your already throbbing head for what little good that did. “How about this?”

It took you a few seconds to force your eyelids back open. Sure enough, your left would hardly move. Through what remained of your field of vision, you could not see much through the sudden haze of light–not much outside of a dark shape in the corner of the huge room, that was. You blinked, and the figure came into focus: a dark-haired man sitting against a wall of security deposit boxes, and wearing thick, dark armor. As soon as your gaze reached his face, Brock grinned.

“Normally I wear the mask.” He stood, gesturing to a helmet sitting by his feet. It, too, was black, but with a skull blasted across its face in white paint. Then Brock kicked the mask to the side and strode purposely over to where you were clamped to the chair. “But I don’t need to wear it for you. No secrets between us, [Name]. Isn’t that right?”

Up close, you could see his features better even through your damaged eye. However you looked, you definitely looked better than Brock. His face was a twisted mass of reddened flesh. As you took his new appearance in, he drew closer, leering down at you. You shrank away, but all this did was make him chuckle.

“I thought so. Couldn’t stand to be with someone so ugly, could you?”

You swallowed thickly. “I didn’t see that before I left.”

Brock laughed again. “You’re a damn shitty liar. Always have been. You think I didn’t know? You think I was deaf and dumb under all those bandages? You think I had any delusions that my girl would stay by my side after Captain America demolished a building on top of my fucking face?!”

His voice rose in volume and intensity, and with each sentence, he thrust himself further into your personal space. You made yourself stay in place, though your heaving chest betrayed your fears.

“I left because you were working with Hydra, Brock,” you said, willing your voice to stay even. “Because I don’t want to be with a terrorist–”

“Terrorist!” he shouted, and for one blessed moment he stepped away from you. Unfortunately, he was soon back and closer than ever, his nose practically pressed to your own. “I’m a mercenary, sweetheart. I work for the highest bidder, and don’t you go pretending you’re not just the same as me.”

“I’m not like you. I don’t work for Hydra. I don’t work for SHIELD anymore either. I’m doing real work, good work, with the–”

“With the Avengers. Yeah. I heard.”

Despite his claims to have already known about your present employment, Brock appeared put off by the news. He turned away from you, pressed his hand to his mouth, and shook his head. You took advantage of his distraction to again attempt to get at least one hand out of your shackles. Too bad they seemed to be made for someone much, much stronger than you.

And then Brock was back, smiling so widely that his eyes turned to half-moons inside their scarred lids.

“I was good to you, wasn’t I? Brought you flowers, like a good boyfriend. Took you out for dinner. Walked you home from work, cuddled with you at night, bought your goddamn tampons! And what did it get me? What good did any of that do?”

To that you had no proper response. All you could do was stare, captivity momentarily forgotten in the light of the dawning realization that your ex-boyfriend had gone completely insane. Yes, Brock had done all of those things for you, for years. You had been happy with him for all those years. You had thought you’d been lucky to be with the guy that headed STRIKE, one of SHIELD’S golden boys, the most handsome man in the whole organization. All the same:

“I don’t date Nazis,” you snarled.

“Is that what you think I was? A Nazi?” Brock shook his head, but then seemed to drop the subject, his mind wandering as his dark eyes traveled up above your head. “Never let the higher ups take you in, either. Wasn’t like they didn’t want to. Good enough to be an Avenger, Agent [L Name]. Could’ve had you conditioned by someone who knew what they were doing, and we would have never been in this mess.”

“What mess?” you asked, if only to keep Brock talking. A little further, and you thought you might have a chance of dislocating your wrist just enough to slip out of Brock’s restraints.

Brock said nothing.

“Brock,” you said once more, “what mess?”

He seemed to only then remember you were there. His eyes drew slowly down until he was staring right into yours, seemingly oblivious to your desire to get free. “

Tell me you still love me, [Name],” he said, sounding almost normal.

“Excuse me?”

“Tell me you still love me,” he repeated. “Tell me you still love me, and none of this has to happen.”

“None of what has to happen?”

“Just tell me that you’ll take me back! The rest of it doesn’t matter. Just tell me that you still love me!”

You mustered all of your energy, looked Brock dead in the eye, and spat in his disgusting face. He froze.

“The man I fell in love with was just that–a man.,” you said breathlessly. “What are you? Some burnt shell, that’s all that left. Not even enough courage to take me on face to face. You’re pathe–”

One thickly gloved hand shot out viper-fast and put your jaw in a vice grip. Brock’s lips pulled back into a snarl that gave way to another laugh that raised the hairs on the back of your neck.

“Careful, [Name]. I brought you here to kill you. Don’t make my job too easy.” He winked, a gesture that you did not return. His smile faded as his fingers gripped your chin even tighter. “Either you’re leaving here mine, or you ain’t leaving here at all.”

“And what is that supposed to mean? You’ve been babbling since you got me here. Tell me what your plan is, if you’re so proud of it.”

He considered you for a long moment–too long. Your jaw ached; you could feel his fingers pressing bruises into your skin. At last, he released you, then gestured up to where he had been looking only a few minutes before.

“You’re sittin’ in a real special chair, darling,” he said as your own eyes traveled upward.

Your heart gave a great thud as you realized exactly where you were. You’d seen the Winter Soldier’s files, and unless you could get out of there, you were screwed.

“Brock–”

“See, this here bank’s a front for Hydra,” Brock went on as though he couldn’t hear you. Who knew? He was far gone enough that maybe he couldn’t. “But they dropped it like a hot potato after Rogers fucked over Project INSIGHT. Once upon a time, they used to strap Cap’s old war buddy into this and fry the living daylights out of his skull. Only saw it done a few times myself, but how hard could it be?”

“You wouldn’t.”

His new, predatory smile returned. “Wouldn’t I? How do you know I haven’t already done it? That’s what this setup is for, after all. Memory loss. And I want you back pretty damn bad.”

He had a good point. Your head definitely felt like it had been put through the ringer–but unless a lot more time had passed than your body could account for, you still had all your memories. In fact, you had enough memories to know that you weren’t about to beg this man for your life.

“You’re not going to get away with this,” you said in as dangerous a voice as you could muster.

Brock ignored you, walking over to where a very obvious lever had been installed near your chair. Before you could say anything more, he pulled it, and your chair–Bucky’s chair–shifted slowly backwards. The mechanism above your head jolted to life, then drifted down toward your head. Only then did Brock answer you:

“Who’s gonna come for you? SHIELD? Don’t make me laugh. They know about us. They’ll think you were in on it all along. A Nazi terrorist, just like you said. Always spouting the company line. And the Avengers?” Here he did laugh. “Think they got better things to care about than where you slipped off to in the middle of the night. Never got in the habit of staying in one place too long, did you?”

He was right. He was right, and what was worse, begging was beginning to seem a better and better option the longer the whirring in the chair went on. You rattled your wrists, rattled your ankles, arched your back to strain with all your strength against your bonds, but nothing moved or loosened. Of course it didn’t. This machine was built for a super soldier. What were you compared to Bucky Barnes?

Brock Rumlow’s haunting laugh started up again in nearby. His hand reached out to press your shoulder back hard against the backrest.

“Don’t worry so much, [Name],” he said. “I might not have the finesse to pick and choose what you forget, but it’ll all be over soon either way. When you wake up, we’ll either be back together or–well, you’ll believe that we are when I tell you. I’ve got big plans for us. Real big plans.”

You opened your mouth to retort. How, you didn’t really know–but any possibility of a retort vanished the very next second. All that came out of your lips was a scream as the surge of electricity from HYDRA’s brainwashing device slammed into your head. You opened your mouth again, and let out another scream. Brock chuckled one last time before he gave your shoulder a final squeeze.

“Welcome back to the dream team, [Name],” he said, but Brock Rumlow had vanished from your thoughts. The whole world had vanished from your thoughts. If you weren’t lucky, neither of them were ever coming back. Everything from there on out was pain and order, order and pain.

[sergeantxrogers]

| confused all the time |

Summary: Bucky’s back, and Steve doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (post CA:TWS)

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Angst, violence, slight TW for physical abuse (but not really), just a shit ton of crying because apparently I can’t have a fic without some hurt/comfort

__________________________________

"It was him, I just know it. I would bet my life on it."

Steve ran his hands through his hair for the hundredth time, pacing the floor of your shared bedroom.

You sat in the middle of the bed, legs crossed and frowning. You were worried for him, you really were. Of course, you trusted Steve, with your life practically, and you believed him, but seeing him in this state made you upset.

Apparently, seeing his best friend after decades of thinking he was dead hadn't affected him very positively. There's also the small additional fact that he, the aforementioned best friend, had no idea who Steve was. After finding him on the river bank, last seeing him falling through the sky along with the rubble into the water, lids heavy and barely breathing, soaking wet and cold, it had taken you several days to bring him out of the state of shock he was in.

He had kept insisting it was Bucky who had dragged him out of the water; kept insisting that he saw the hesitation in his eyes before he threw the final punch; kept insisting he had recognized him. You pulled him through every claim with silent nods and the occasional "I know, babe".

Today was different though. It had been 8 days since the incident on the helicarrier, and Steve had been losing his mind bit by bit everyday trying to piece together the how, when and why of the whole situation. Which brought you to right now, watching him shut his eyes and let out deep breaths trying to calm himself down.

"How is it even..," he started quietly. You got up on your knees and moved over to the edge of the bed, leaning a bit to reach out to him.

"I saw him fall," he stated blankly, taking your outstretched hand mindlessly, interlacing your fingers. You bit the inside of your cheek and tilted your head at him.

"Stevie...," you began, and he pulled his hand from yours suddenly.

"I saw him, Y/N, I couldn't see anything else for months. I couldn't sleep because all I could see were his eyes losing hope and all I could hear was him screaming."

You nodded slightly, getting up off the bed and slowly making your way a couple steps over to him.

"So how? How? I know it's him, I just can't, for the life of me, understand how," he said desperately as his head shot up to make eye contact with you. You let out a deep sigh as you grabbed his hands in your own, trying to give him some sense of stability, if only for a split second. You admit, it was very hard to believe, and somewhere in the back of your mind you worried that Steve had lost his mind completely; it had only been a matter of time, honestly, considering everything he'd been through. You had no idea how to talk to him about this, but you knew you should approach the subject lightly.

"Steve, honey, I know you must miss him a lot, and I know it was a horrible thing for you to see him... go like that... but-"

His eyes that were previously burning holes into the floor shot up to meet yours, seemingly furious.

Okay, so maybe it could've been approached even lighter. Oops.

"But? But what?" he challenged, daring you to finish the sentence. In all honestly, you had no idea where you were planning on going with it, but now you were nervous. Very, very nervous.

Steve had this incredulous are you kidding me look he gave people when they said something stupid or rude. It was one of those looks where the disappointment was obvious and whoever it was directed at felt immediate regret. The look of God's Righteous Man and America's Golden Boy, and all that. And you were sure as hell feeling that regret right about now.

"Go on, finish your sentence, honey," he ended on a sarcastic note, pulling away from you to cross his arms. You felt your stomach clench as he leaned his head back to look down at you, raising a brow in waiting.

You swallowed, and shook your head slowly, not knowing what to say. You just wanted to help him, but seeing Bucky like that had made him act like a completely different person ever since. He was frustrated all the time, he tended to roll his eyes at people way more than appropriate, and he always got lost in his thoughts, not registering anything or anyone around him for hours at a time. Nobody knew what to expect from him at any given moment, which is what made your pulse pick up speed. You weren't necessarily afraid of him; Steve would kill himself before he ever deliberately hurt you, but you hated confrontation of any kind.

Steve took a step towards you, and in turn you took a step back. Your brows furrowed as you opened and closed your mouth repeatedly, racking through your brain for something to say to diffuse the situation before it got too out of hand.

"Steve, I'm just... worried about you," you let out honestly.

"You haven't been sleeping... you haven't been eating as much as you should, you've been snapping at people who are just trying to help you..."

You caught the way his nostrils flared slightly at the last part, before he took another wide step in your direction. You took another step back. He did it again, but this time when you stepped back, you were met with the cool surface of the wall against you.

"Baby...," he says lowly, lowering his head to meet your eyes at the same level, "... do you, by any chance, think I'm overreacting? Or do you maybe not believe me?"

Clenching your teeth, you wanted nothing more than to reach your arms out and have him fall into them, but you knew it wasn't the right situation for it. Instead, he placed his hands on either side of your head, trapping you. You sucked in a sharp breath through your nose before speaking.

"No, you know I believe you. You know I'll always be by your side, right or wrong, it's just... you've been so preoccupied with this that it's changing you."

Steve's jaw tensed and he closed his eyes, dropping his head.

"I'm just so confused all the time," he whispered, just barely.

"I know, baby, I know," you cooed, and you brought your hands up to hold his face.

The minute your fingers made contact with his skin, he snapped.

"Stop saying you fucking know, Y/N!" he yelled, slamming the wall to the left of your head with each word, and your heart jumped. You flinched, drawing your hands into yourself immediately, turning your head away from his hand.

"You don't fucking know anything I'm going through, nobody does and I just want some goddamn answers!" he continued furiously.

You felt tears in your eyes and heard Steve take deep breaths. You didn't know what had shocked you more, the fact that Steve swore, the close proximity of his hand to your head or the fact that he had finally cracked, nonetheless, at you.

Your hands shook ever so slightly at your sides as you refused to open your eyes. Steve's labored breaths slowed, and you heard his hands slide down and off the wall. Feeling him step away from you, you opened your eyes just a bit. It was enough to see him looking at you with regret in his eyes. You saw the clarity flood them as his bottom lip trembled; he was about to cry at what he just did.

Your body filled with worry as you surged forwards, arms reaching out to him, but he held his own up and quickly moved away from you. You stood there, both of you worried, eyes filled with tears, hands held up in surrender and hopelessness. It was quiet. Quieter than what you were used to with Steve, and you didn't like it.

Tears ran down his cheeks and he brought one hand up to his hair, pulling at it, a habit he had when he was frustrated with himself. Turning his head away from you, he went to sit on the bed and rested his head in his hands.

You followed him. You knew he didn't plan for that to play out the way it did, so you weren't mad. But you also knew he was mad at himself now, for letting himself go that far. Feeling you come closer, Steve's head shot up from his hands and he quickly shook his head.

"No-" he choked out, holding his hand out to stop you from coming any nearer, afraid of hurting you. The sight of him made your heart hurt, and you felt cool air on the wet streaks your tears left behind on your face as you walked to stand straight in front of him, pushing his hand away.

He kept pushing you back with his hand, and you kept pushing it away from you, determined to hold him even if it was the last thing you'd ever do.

He let out continuous whimpers: "stop", "please don't", "I'm so sorry", "I can't-".

Your hands trembled as you pushed his hand away harder than before.

"Steven, fucking stop it," you said through clenched teeth, pushing at his hands, hating the way the two of you must've looked, and hating the way he was retreating into himself, too scared to even look you in the eyes.

You finally managed to drop to your knees in front of him sitting on the edge of the bed, and you rested your hands on his knees.

"Stevie, it's oka-," you started.

Cutting you off, he took a deep, trembling breath and slid off the bed. His legs on either side of you, head hanging low, he timidly ran his hands up your thighs and over your hips, bringing them to rest loosely on your waist. Grabbing his head and lifting it so you could look at him better, he let out a deep, pained whine when his eyes met your own.

"Everything is just so much," he whispered and brought his head forward to rest against your chest, moving his arms to wrap around your waist. Another wave of tears washed over you and you brought your arms up to wrap around his neck, placing a soft kiss to his hair.

"I'm just so tired," he whined out into your chest, the words vibrating deep in your soul, and you pinched your eyes shut to keep anymore new tears from falling.

Nodding silently, you stroked the back of his head softly.

You placed another kiss on his head, humming through it, rocking side to side slowly. He was going to beat himself up about this for a long, long time, you just knew it. Your travelled down to his back, tracing patterns on it as his breath steadied.

"It's okay... it's okay," you mumbled into his hair, barely audible, but the kisses you felt him leaving on your chest showed you he heard.

You sat there for an hour, rocking him back and forth, until he fell asleep.

You sat there for another as he slept, until your back was sore and your legs were numb.

You didn't care though, Steve had done the same and more for you countless of times. He was always there, as were you.

No, you didn't understand what he was going through, he was right about that part. But, feeling his body relax into yours, feeling the grip he had on your waist loosen, feeling his breath go steady, feeling the wet spots on your shirt where his tears had soaked through, you were determined to try.

[cazimagines]

Oblivious

Request from anon: Hi, I really enjoy your writing, particularly your Zemo fics! I had an idea for one that basically follows the while y/n joining Sam, Bucky, and Zemo through Madirpoor and Riga. Only despite Zemo’s flirting, y/n doesn’t really do anything about it or even notice until y/n along with Sam and Bucky witness Walker (New Captian America) murder a flag smasher in the street. They all go back to the safe house and y/n is like, in shock. “Captian America just killed someone” is all y/n can really say. And Zemo is able to calm them down. Maybe the romance can start then?

Word count: 3.4k

Author’s note: This one-shot can be multiple parts, if you would like to see a sequel please say! If I do decide to write a sequel though it will take me a while as I’ve had a lot of requests, please check out my master list to see what I have coming up next and if requests are currently open or not

Masterlist

(Please check out my master list to see what I will be writing next and if requests are open or closed)

Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username

Heels clicked along the pavement as you sashayed along the road, approaching the men before you, two of which you know fondly. The other one, however... not so much.

They all stood close together in a circle, obviously discussing something important but at hearing your voice call out their heads turn towards you, a smile appearing on Sam and Bucky’s faces as they see you. “Long time no see boys,” you say, stopping a few feet away from them to lean on a wall.

They both walk over to you, Bucky pulling you into and hug then followed by Sam hugging you tightly. “Thank you for agreeing to help us out y/n. I know things haven’t been easy for you,”

You fake a smile at Bucky, one you hoped he wouldn’t see past resting your arm around his shoulder. “Anything for my friends,”

He was right, though. These times haven’t been easy for you, especially after Steve Rodgers left. Captain America had always been your idol, ever since you were a little kid you aspired to be just like him. You collected all the Captain America merchandise along with your brother Phil, always arguing with him who owned which toy of his. Meeting Steve had been a dream come true for you. He was the person you were closest to. He helped you come to terms with your brother’s death and whenever you needed help; he was there. You two stuck together through the thick and thin. That’s was how you got to become good friends with Sam and Bucky. You and Steve have always had a complicated relationship, though. You two liked each other and tried to see if you could be something more, but it never seemed to work out. Then Thanos happened. You, along with half the universe, were dusted. For you it was as if you had simply blinked however for Steve it was five years without you. You barely got to see each other again before he went away for good. You couldn’t hate him for it, you understood why he did what he did. He was always telling you about the ’40s, about his childhood, about her. You just wished you weren’t so connected with him. Seeing him there, old, dying. It broke your heart. But times move on. You can’t live in the past as he did.

Your eyes focus on the man behind Sam and Bucky and you frown, pulling your arm away from Bucky. A man you never thought you would see again was staring right back at you.

He stood a few feet back, knowing he wasn’t welcomed in the warm reunion of friendship. He clasped his hands, unsure what exactly he should do right now, feeling awkward, but as he looked over at you his eyes twinkled with recognition. Now you had been interesting to him. You weren’t a super soldier like Steve and James. Yet you certainly could hold your own against them. He had seen when he had first activated James. No, your strength and fighting abilities were down to your own human powers and he admired that. You were one of the few avengers he might have had an inkling to like if the Sokovia attack never happened. Still, it wasn’t as if you were to blame for it. The people who were to blame had suffered for it. You were merely the pawn in the giant game of chess. Perhaps he could grow to like you, after all, he could admit you were certainly tempting to him, the way your body was shaped excited him, the way your neck was shaped made him want to brush his fingers along it and your piercing eyes felt like they could look into the darkest corners of his soul.

“Why is he out of prison?” you snap, bringing Zemo out of his trance

Sam turns to scowl at Bucky as you all turn to Zemo, who awkwardly smiles. “Bucky thinks we need him,” Sam mutters

“Why would we need him!” you exclaim, crossing your arms and shooting Bucky a glare.

“I am invaluable,” Zemo explains with his hands, his eyes unwavering from you as he answers for Bucky.

“He hates super-soldiers, therefore he will help us in getting to Karli,” Bucky says, stepping in front of your eyesight trying to explain himself.

“That also means he hates you, Buck,”

All of them freeze as you address the elephant in the room. Bucky grits his teeth and steps back, averting your gaze as you and Sam stare expectedly at him but he doesn’t respond so Zemo takes his opportunity to step closer to you, now only a few feet apart.

“I can assure you, getting rid of Karli and her super soldier friends is my priority. Not James,”

You clench your jaw in anger as you look at Zemo. He tilts his head, the side of his lip curling up slightly, hoping you’d take a chance on him. Sighing, you turn to shoot one more look at Bucky.

“Steve wouldn’t have liked this,”

Later you sat across from Zemo on his private jet. All of you sat in uncomfortable silence as you flew to Madripoor. Sam and Bucky did not seem as close as you were to both of them. They both just sat on their respective sides and looked out the window. Zemo had a book on him which he seemed very preoccupied reading, yet there were moments where you could feel his eyes settle upon you. Ignoring his inquisitive gaze, you choose to follow in Bucky and Sam’s lead of looking out the window and daydream the rest of the trip away.

Your mind trails back to Steve. You wondered just what Steve would have thought about you teaming up with Zemo. He would have understood, wouldn’t he? It was the best option you had. Ah, but he had always been such a stickler about the rules. Breaking a criminal out and helping him avoid the law wasn’t very patriotic of you. Yep, he would not have gone through with this plan, he would have found another way that worked. But none of the people here were him. He choose not to be here. You knew you had to let him go.

“Champagne?”

You pull your eyes away from the window, coming back to reality as you see a bottle of champagne in Zemo’s hand and an empty glass in his other hand. He already had another glass full beside him as he looked at you expectantly.

“No,”

“Sure?”

“What part of no do you not understand,” you snap harshly glaring at him then back out to the window

“My apologies,” he says, pursing his lips together as he looks down at the empty glass. He glances over to Sam and Bucky but they both shake their heads as well so he hands the glass and drinks back to his butler and sighs as he opens his book again.

The tension between all of you sticks around as you arrive at Madripoor. Zemo had provided you a tight-fitting dress to ‘appear the part’ of your allice, and it showed off a bit too much of your chest than you liked. It was too bright for you, golden and sparky, cutting off at your upper tight, and had a very low v cut. You try your best to pull it down to cover you some more but to no avail. Begrudgingly, you leave the plane to meet up with the rest of them.

“My my y/n, the dress suits you,” Zemo says, smirking as his eyes trail up and down your body as you walk past him taking a straight beeline towards Sam and Bucky.

“How long will this mission take?” you ask, already feeling the cold air nip at your skin.

“Few hours at the least. I’m sorry that you have to do this, y/n”

“Hey, I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to help you two,” you mutter as you hear a car pulling up behind you

“Not exactly this though,” Bucky grumbles, glowering over at Zemo who motions to the car that had arrived. Zemo opens the door and waits for you to get in however you walk to the other side of the car and get in. Bucky chuckles at Zemo’s annoyed expression as he instead gets into the side, which Zemo held open.

During the mission, Zemo kept getting uncomfortably close to you. Occasionally his hand brushed against your back as he moved past you, or his hand would bump into yours slightly, lingering against yours longer than normal.

You knew why he was doing this. Because of Steve. He knew how close you and Steve were, everyone did. During the fight between Steve and Tony which Zemo had helped cause you stuck by Steve every second. Now that Steve was gone, Zemo was trying to rub that in. Trying to irritate you on purpose. You would not let him get to you.

During the meeting with Selby you stood off to the side with Sam and you were feeling pretty good about yourself that the mission was going well until Sam’s phone rang. You tried to keep cool while also giving Sam the wtf look as to why he didn’t put his phone on silent. You hung out hoping things would go okay, but today wasn’t your day.

Shelby got gunned down in front of you, and the mission was ruined. Running in heels wasn’t ideal, but you had to make do. You followed Sam and Bucky as Zemo split up from you, running off somewhere else. Eventually, you kicked off your heels, believing running barefoot would be better than dealing with the agony of heels.

Finally, meeting back up with Zemo, you were ready to have to fight your way out of this mess, but then someone you didn’t think you would ever see again appeared. Sharon Carter. You two weren’t exactly buddy buddies. You got along for Steve’s sake, but it always felt like a sort of rivalry between you two for his attention.

“Y/n,” she says, finally addressing you

“Sharon,” you say back, feeling the awkwardness seep back in. Sharon didn’t seem bothered however, she even kindly let you have some new clothes and shoes which were much more comfortable than the ones Zemo lent you and more your style.

Walking back into the main room you see Zemo sitting down, once again drinking, Bucky sitting down as far away from Zemo as he could get and Sam standing at the side. You choose to stand by Sam.

“Hey, y/n, you doing okay?” Sam asks as you walk over.

“Better than other days. What are we waiting around for?”

“For Sharon to lead us to a party where she can get the information we need,” Zemo answers for Sam, peeking over at you. You ignore him.

Sharon comes back in and tells all of you not to get in trouble while you are out at the party.

“Trouble,” Zemo jokes, and he once again glances over to you, raising a glass and winking at you as he downs it.

Following Sharon, you head into the party. It was to show off the art pieces she had got a hold of so you thought you might as well look at them as you were unlikely to see any of these genuine pieces again. You could see however Zemo following you. He tried to be sly by checking out the other artworks near you, never exactly where you were, but you could tell because every time you moved to a new place soon enough Zemo would suddenly appear there as well. He leaned into one of the artworks, pretending to study it closely, but the corner of his eyes would flick over to you.

Groaning in frustration at your new stalker, you decide you had to lose him in the crowds. Swaying your body, you enter the dancing crowd and jump along to the music, letting yourself go. You could feel your excitement growing with the crowd as you danced, but with one quick turn around there, you saw him.

Zemo had now entered the crowd and was dancing along to the music as well, pumping his hands in time to it. As you stared at him in disbelief, he notices and takes that as an innovation to dance over to you.

“Dancing is fun, right?” he asks as he claps his hand to the music

“Why are you doing this!” you exclaim glaring at him.

His eyebrows furrow as he looks at you, “I don’t understand what you mean?”

You huff in annoyance and storm away, going to find Sam and Bucky leaving Zemo alone on the dance floor. He watches you go and sighs, moving away from the dance floor. It had been a long time since he last got to socialize with anyone and he was trying with you; he wanted to know you more, but he didn’t want to push you too far either if you were uncomfortable with it.

The next few hours felt like a blur to everyone. Sharon found out where the doctor was and you found out a bit of information before Zemo choose to shoot him. Then the whole place exploded, and you had to fight for your life while Zemo hijacked and car to pick you up. Now you were standing outside the safe house.

Zemo opened up the doors, and with his arm motioned for you to go in first. You roll your eyes at his extravagance and storm in, looking around the place. It was simple, but you could still tell that it was all designer, expensive to Zemo’s tastes. You sit down on the sofa while Zemo instantly gravitates towards the liquor cupboard.

“If you drink so much you won’t have long left to live” you mutter as you watch him pour some whiskey. His head shoots up as he turns sidewards to look at you, raising an eyebrow.

“Concerned about my health now?”

“I’d rather have you not pass out during a mission, at least till you are no longer of use to us then you can drink yourself to death for all I care,”

“Ah concern for the mission, yes you avengers folks are all the same. The mission takes precedence before anything else,” Zemo says, grabbing his glass and walking over to take a seat on the sofa opposite you.

You give him a cold hard stare crossing your arms. “What do you mean by that” you hiss

He tilts his head, smirking as he sees how riled up you were getting. “I’m simply observing that you have to put your mission before human lives. I know from how much I studied Steve-”

“Don’t bring Steve into this!” you exclaim, leaning forward, baring your teeth at him.

Zemo pauses for a moment shocked, he pulls his head back to observe, his mouth slightly ajar as his eyebrows cast down but realization dawns across his face.

“Ah, you and Steve, you two were an item,”

“It wasn’t like that” you murmur, jumping up from the sofa and pacing around the room to try to alleviate the agitation you felt, your nails digging into your arms as you wrapped them around your body in comfort.

“But there was something,” Zemo replies, watching you pace around the room then looking into the glass bitterly, his grip on it tightening.

You turn your back to Zemo to stare at your reflection in the mirror, seeing the tears swell up in your eyes.

“Why are you bringing this up? Why do you keep trying to annoy me Zemo, what purpose are you getting from this apart from some sick sadistic pleasure?”

It was Zemo’s turn to jump up from the sofa, hurt you could ever think so lowly of him, his eyebrows furrowed as he speeds over to you. He stands beside you, getting a lot closer to you than you would like. You turned your head away so he couldn’t see the tears threatening to fall.

“Do you think that bad of me? Y/n we may not have had the best first impression but know that it is never my intention to irritate or upset you,” Zemo says, trying to move even closer to you, but he moves a step too far and you back away.

“Just leave me alone, Zemo” you whisper, then run out of the room to find a bathroom to let everything out.

Zemo watches your form leave, angrily clenching his jaw, knowing he pushed it too far. The vein in his neck twitches as he grabs an ornament by the side of the mirror. Holding it in his hand, he observes the glass figure, a dove, then chucks it into the ground in rage, feeling an inkling of satisfaction at seeing it smash into a thousand pieces. He grabs more ornaments, at that moment not caring how much they each cost, just enjoy the release of anger he felt every time he smashed one.

-

You could hear the blood in your brain roar through your ears, the feeling of your heart hitting your chest in shock as you stared down at Lemar’s dead body.

Your eyes flicker to John’s who knelt beside him, trying desperately to wake him up, but you knew it was hopeless. Lemar was gone. Your eyes flickered around the rest of the room, Karli and her friend realising how bad they have messed up were already running away from the room. Bucky and Sam looked at each other as if knowing what was to happen. Your eyes finally land on Zemo’s. John had tried to arrest him, but you were able to stop him. Zemo was still useful though you hated to admit it, it wasn’t long however till the Dora Milaje would find him.

You feel a hand brush against your shoulder and snap back into reality, “We need to leave, now,” Zemo whispered in your ear, pulling your arm to make you move.

Gathering your senses, you let Zemo lead you out of the building as you hear a crash from above. Running out into the road, you and Zemo catch up beside Sam and Bucky and watch the disaster unfold.

There was John, in Cap’s uniform, holding Cap’s shield above that man.

Steve.

Steve’s shield.

You feel a scream tear from your lips as you watch John Walker bring the shield down, penetrating the man’s chest, staining it in blood. Tears leak from your eyes as you attempt to rush forward, to try and stop it, but arms grasp onto you, pulling you back.

“NO” you repeatedly cried, trying to worm your way out of the grasp, but they gripped you, refusing to let go. Your knees gave out and you sink to the floor, collapsing in the arms of the person who held you, your head buried in the fur part of their coat as they held you to their chest.

You kept sobbing, shaking as the image replayed over and over in your mind.

“Captain America just killed someone,” you whispered, unable to say anything else. The arms which held you picked you up, quietly shushing you, and carried you down a road, back into the safe house.

They tried to put you on the sofa but you clung to their body, not believing you could survive without their support, so they settle on lying down beside you on the sofa.

They turned you to face their body as their arms draped around you, gently rubbing circles into your back. Burying your head into their chest again, you let the sobs wail out as your chest ached from breathing.

“Captain America just killed someone,” you whisper again to him.

“That wasn’t Steve, y/n, Steve would never do something like that,” he murmured, his accent soothing your nerves.

“But it was his shield Zemo. The very thing I had idolized for so long,”

“A shield which by now no longer belongs to him. He was never Captain America y/n, what we just saw proved that. They will give the shield to someone better,”

You sniff, trying to prevent the snot from coming out of your nose as your bloodshot eyes look up into his, “Really?”

He gently smiles at you, taking his hand off your back to push a strand of hair that was hanging over your eye away.

“Yes, they won’t make the same mistake twice,”

Zemo’s words brought more comfort than you could have ever imagined. His embrace brought you warmth and you could feel yourself slowly stop shaking as he held you. Looking away from Zemo in embarrassment, you instead choose to snuggle your head back into his chest, hearing the rapid beating of his heart which lulled you to sleep.

Tags: @sinister-sleep @cable-kenobi @faustlyaccused @chipster-21 @icarusinstatic @yallgotkik @montypythonsholysnail @bunniwritesx @checkurwindow @huntheimpossible @jayxkelsi @avgravy @prestigious-tea @aloyssiac @hannahbal-the-fannibal @alainabooks143 @jokerprettyprincess @plumsandkiwis @latenightartist-author @e-barba @flutterskies @wonderwoman292 @there-goes-thefighter @multiyfandomgirl40 @freyjasamael @ineffablebean

[anika-ann]

My Timid Hello, My Clumsy Goodbye (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, canon semi-compliant?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Barton!reader    Word count: 8900 (...sorry)

Summary: You’re spending the evening and the night before your wedding with the two most important men of your life.

When the sun rises again, you’ll say your ‘I do’ in a close circle of friends and family. It’s not a goodbye to your old life and it’s not a hello to some enormous change; but you will no longer be a Barton. You will be a Rogers. Why not reminisce a bit? 

Warnings: mention of an abandoned baby, blood and injuries, alcohol, implied possibly rougher sex (nothing graphic) ...mature?, language, so much sappiness... let me know if I missed any

A/N: For what-is-your-backupplan-today 10th anniversary of CA:TFA challenge. Prompts in bold. Thank you for coming up with this wonderful theme and hosting this challenge! Long live CA:TFA!

A/N: Throughout the fic, you’ll find snippets of lyrics from SYML’s "Everything All At Once”. Honestly, the song has a completely different meaning to me, but tearing it out of context works for this story just fine :) When you’re done reading, I recommend the music video. It friggin’ broke me in the worst and best ways. Enjoy!

This is my hello This is my clumsy goodbye I'm putting my glass down I wanna remember tonight

Tony rented an island for you. Clint nearly passed out learning about it and grumbled for days about having a hard time to top that, which, no arguing, was understandable.

It was an incredibly extravagant thing to do, throwing around money that could have been used for a much more honourable cause, but you couldn’t complain. One should not look a gifted horse into mouth – and so you didn’t.

Because Tony Stark renting an island was his premature wedding gift. The fact that your brother bitched about not being able to top that, well, that was his problem. You were certain that deep down, he knew you didn’t need any fancy gifts like that.

Then again, Tony’s gift might have been epically overpriced, but not exactly unthoughtful; along with a private island came a private jet and you being literally flied under radar so no single paparazzi knew where you and America’s golden boy Steve Rogers would seal the deal with your ‘I do.’ So, you were everything but ungrateful to your friend that he succeeded at pulling off such covert operation; and frankly, this place was nothing short of wonderful.

The golden sand was pleasantly warm under your toes as you as you and Clint walked towards the two single beach chairs facing the ocean. Wearing bikini under the baggy t-shirt and a pair of shorts, sunglasses on top of your head, because why would you deprive yourself the gorgeous view of the sun beginning to set down, you followed your brother – not in blood but in every other sense – to the seats, allured by the view, the serenity and the cold sixpack in his hand.

You had already had a traditional bachelorette party with your girls – with the team, with your family. Natasha, Wanda, Pepper, Sharon and Maria. The night had been the perfect blend of what was considered typically feminine, dress up, fanciness and wine and gossip, and a fun night out with shots, dancing, karaoke and pool. That particular night sadly was interrupted shortly by an annoying photographer, but he soon understood it was not very clever to annoy three and a half Avengers or the CEO of Stark Industries for that matter.

Clint however… Clint deserved a special evening with you. With the rest of the team in various state of chilling out, scattered around the luxurious small houses and gorgeous beaches, you two were left the privacy such moment required.

Even if the special moment consisted of simple talking and drinking beer while watching the sun set, a symbolic end of one phase of your life – a phase that was undeniably tied to the famous and yet barely known archer, one of the seven defenders who rushed into the Battle of New York to save the Earth.

One of the seven had been your brother, having previously been controlled by the monster who brought an army from outer space; there was no questioning whether you would join the fight or not, no matter how you preferred the latter part of your field medic job title to the former.

Another of these brave people, as it turned out, was your future husband. A man you had met for the first time that day, but whom you didn’t hesitate to push back down when he got hit by a freaking alien weapon and stood up, wanting to shake it off as if it was nothing. Your medical training told you not to let him; and your stubbornness had been just a touch stronger than his that day.

Apparently, Steve found you always standing your ground to be one of your most endearing qualities.

What a fancy way to express it instead of simply calling you a stubborn pain in his ass.

“You’re lost in your head, Twinkie,” Clint hummed, playfully nudging your ribs with an elbow, bringing you back to the present.

Your nose automatically scrunched at the childhood nickname.

“You gotta stop calling me that, Bobo,” you retorted, a grin spreading on your face as it was his turn to grimace.

You knew it was nothing but an act and that he in fact loved that nickname, because it held so much sentiment, so many memories… as did his endearment for you.

Bobo had been your first word or so Clint always claimed. Obviously, you wouldn’t remember.

You wouldn’t remember your parents, having been only two days old when your mother left you with a damn circus which was in your hometown at the time. You couldn’t recall how you wouldn’t stop crying until you heard a seven-year-old Clint humming a lullaby for you, with silly replacements of lyrics that always made you laugh later on when you could understand them.

How he started calling you Twinkie, because he was a sugar addict and apparently, you were sweet and small and he liked you; so much that he soon appointed himself to be your brother, your bro, your Bobo.

Once you were older and learned that your involuntary nickname for him also meant ‘crazy’ in Spanish, you were sold to that Bobo endearment forever.

Including the night before your wedding.

“You keep zoning out on me, Kid. Getting cold feet?” Clint hummed, casually handing you a can of beer, opening it up for you.

You automatically reached out and took a sip, eyes fixed on the warm colour on the horizon. What a ridiculous question… but kind and caring, with a hidden promise of getting you out of here if you just asked. Your amazing, protective, crazy brother.

You couldn’t but smile widely, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

“You offering to kidnap the bride, Clint? I’d like to see you try. You were always better at trapeze than at being an escape artist.”

Clint scoffed. “Please. These are amateurs. I bet I could pull it off.”  

That drew a laugh from you.

“Are you calling the Avengers amateurs? Better yet, are you calling your wife an amateur?” you teased him, watching his face lose colour when he realized that he did exactly that. You leaned over and patted his thigh. “Don’t worry, Bobo. I won’t tell Nat.”

Clint visibly relaxed, but a shadow of worry twisting his expression.

“Seriously though. Where’s your head at, Kid?”

You just shrugged, smile resting on your lips as you wondered if you ever felt so relaxed. It went along well with the reminiscing of the past and despite the fact that tomorrow was a big day and you should probably be nervous, you weren’t. Not in the slightest, more like the opposite. You were giddy even; it dawned to you that nothing in your life had ever felt so right.

No moment in your life offered you such serenity to your heart, your shoulders free of any weight, body light as air.

“Just taking a trip down the memory lane. Thinking about how lucky I was to be dropped at your circus of all circuses of the world,” you grinned at Clint, your tone remaining completely serious.

Because you were being serious – words couldn’t express how grateful for everything that led to this moment you were. How grateful you were to your brother for watching over you, making sure you would always see the light of a new day, guiding you when you found yourself in a dark.

Clint didn’t react beside his fingers twitching and you knew he was giving you the chance to say what you needed to say.

“About how you taught me pretty much everything I know. About how while I might not be the best person in the world, my brother, who is the best brother ever, made me into a decent person and I owe him everything I am. And how I should probably feel guilty for tying myself to another guy who just swept in and whisked away your little sister.”

Clint stared at you, gulping as his eyes gradually filled with tears. You found yourself in a very cheesy moment, bordering on absurd and it was almost too much to handle – but Clint took a deep breath, cleared his throat and swallowed his tears.

“Well, that bastard did steal my greatest life achievement with way too little effort,” he remarked, voice cracking slightly, the image of him causing your eyes to burn as well even if his words made you both tear up and burst out laughing.

“Dammit, Clint, stop making me laugh and cry at the same time…”

“You started it!” he pointed his index finger at you accusingly, taking a large sip of his beer to drown his sentiment. “But for the record, you should not feel guilty. It’s not like you’re leaving me.”

“I know, but-“

“And if you were, you’d be leaving me in good hands.”

“That’s true, Natasha does have a grip on you and might keep you outta trouble-“

“She’s the one who gets me into trouble half of the time!” Clint cried out in protest and you would have argued if it wasn’t the truth.

But before he had met her, Clint was able to make up his own trouble just fine – he was more than half of a reason why while doing a bit of trapeze yourself, you also grew interested in medical care. Because who else than the little sister should treat her big brother’s wounds when he got too crazy?

“In all seriousness, I’m proud of you, Twinkie,” he said sincerely, one corner of his lips raised in a lopsided smile. “You’re entirely entitled to have your own life and if there’s one guy in this whole damn world I’m willing to trust to have you… well, I guess it’s that big blond dumbass.”

“He can be a bit dumb of ass occasionally, can’t he?” you mused lovingly. “I guess it’s right what they say… we do pick our partners similar to our parents, maybe not only in looks. I didn’t really have a dad, I had you, so…”

Clint sighed, smile widening, before it slipped from his face as he caught up on the not-so-hidden insult.

“Hey!”

You couldn’t but laugh at his shocked expression, accidently spilling a splosh of beer on the sand.

“Just… maybe make sure that even married, you still find time to hang out with your big dumb of ass brother every once in a while?” Clint suggested, sounding surprisingly vulnerable.

Your whole demander softened, a little pang of guilt stinging in your heart as he took your words too seriously – and at his worry.

“Clint… I will always find time for my amazing brother.”

“Well, you’re marrying a pretty amazing guy too, so, you know, I understand the dilemma…”

You snorted when he seemed to genuinely fawn over your future husband, shaking your head before downing the rest of your drink.

“As amazing as Steve might be – and gosh, he is, don’t get me started – you still own a pretty big chunk of my heart.”

“Good. You are a Barton at heart,” Clint hummed, pretending that a few tears didn’t roll down his cheeks, leaning towards you as his expression once again grew serious.

Your chest tightened. Oh no. He was gonna say something to make you cry too – as if you already weren’t at verge of crying, emotions bubbling under the surface.

“Clint-“ you warned him silently, but he spoke up anyway and you gulped, bracing yourself.

“Just… whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect housewife, but a good woman.”

That was not what you were prepared for, as touching as the sentiment was.

You burst out laughing, head thrown back, hands clutching at your stomach as it actually hurt with the sudden clench. Tears did spring from your eyes, a perfect blend of touched and infinitely amused at your brother’s words.

“Har, har, that’s what I get from trying to speak from heart…” Clint muttered grumpily and you willed yourself to calm your hitching breaths as you looked at him, the pout of his mouth causing you to cackle again.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just… I am moved, I really am. Thank you. But me? A perfect housewife? And you realize I’m marrying Steve Rogers, right? The epitome of a good man? He would probably threaten to sock me in a jaw if I tried to change into something I’m not just for his sake and actually sock me in my jaw if I turned into a bad woman.”

Clint’s eyebrows jumped, a smirk appearing on his face. “That’s a lot of punching.”  

“My thoughts exactly,” you agreed, reaching for another can, pausing when a thought occurred to you. “Just so we’re clear, I might turn into a bit of a housewife when we have kids, alright? And I want to be a good wife, a good partner to Steve, which is what I’m trying to do even now.”

“I mean, yeah, sure, wouldn’t expect anything less. But… just promise me you’ll stay you and that you’ll keep giving him a run for his money, keep him on his toes a bit,” Clint shrugged with a grin, drawing another chuckle from you.

You saw his point – and you fully intended to keep Steve on his toes. You had a good reason to believe that your future husband enjoyed when you did.

“Oh Clinton… I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He nodded contentedly, picking up another beer and raising it for a toast, his can clinking with yours.

“Cheers to that!”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you then, a quiet joy wrapped in one moment; the sun ending its quest, the warm breeze in your hair, the waves whispering of a journey you were about to take off to. And all that with a wordless comforting presence of your family, ready to offer you a shelter if a storm rocked your boat and the wind caused you to lose course.

As your mind wandered, you had to laugh at yourself – it was almost as if you were raised by pirates and not circus performers. Perhaps it was the little bit of free cheeky spirit these life journeys had in common what brought the metaphor to your mind. It was a bit like working with the Avengers too, always on a road, adrenaline in your veins even as you mostly stayed on the jet, ready to assist them… yet here you were pondering that maybe, you were yearning for settling down a bit more.

“Cap wouldn’t punch you anyway, right?” Clint remarked, breaking the silence and you blinked yourself back into reality, taking a moment to figure out what he was talking about.

Oh. Right. Steve punching you if you changed yourself significantly for his benefit.

You smiled softly, heart swelling in affection when the answer to that question appeared obvious.

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“Good. He’d try once and I’d put an arrow straight between his eyes,” Clint promised darkly, almost causing you to choke at the sudden violent note. He quickly fixed it with a ramble, lightening the atmosphere yet again. “Minus training of course. He’s allowed to try in order to improve your hand-to-hand. Not that he would ever land a hand on you anyway. Always so soft on you…” he grinned, seemingly alright with that attitude if not slightly calling the big strong supersoldier out.

Oh you could be cheeky too alright if that was what your brother wanted.

“That you know of.”

A confused huh was the only reaction you got – that and a puzzled look.

“He’s always soft on me,” you repeated Clint’s words, turning to him, lips slowly spreading in a wicked smirk. “That you know of.”

Clint’s brows furrowed for a short moment and then his features twisted in a disgusted grimace, face growing a tint crimson.

“Gross!” he complained, more blood rushing to his cheeks. “You know what, I changed my mind. We’re leaving. You’re not marrying him. I’m kidnapping the bride and never returning her, locking her somewhere far far away-“

You snorted at his indignation, your grin undoubtedly battling the one of the Cheshire cat.

“No will do, Bobo. I’m marrying Steve and you can’t stop me.”

This time, Clint didn’t even protest, eyes misted over, nose still scrunched at the mental image, lamenting as the night slowly settled over the paradise-like island.

“Oh god, please help, I can’t unsee it, can’t unhear it--- ew-”

Your laughter was carried away by the breeze as Clint seemed to be unable to look at you.

You swung your beer around, thinking that yes – nothing quite ever felt so right as being here in this moment. Relaxing with your brother, teasing him relentlessly and counting down hours to when you’d say ‘I do’ to the only man who in your eyes ever battled the mantle of the best man in the universe.

In one unending moment You fall within my reach I'm close enough to whisper Hold on to me Hold on to me

You weren’t sure what time it was when you snuck into the beach house, one of few, which had been wisely chosen to be occupied by you and Steve only. You attempted to be quiet and liked to think you succeeded, in your even barely tipsy state, but your effort turned out to be in vain as you found Steve perched against headboard of your bed; reading a book, thin white t-shirt and sleep shorts on display as the soft sheet had been kicked away, scrunched up by his feet.

He was gorgeous – he was gorgeous and yours, a momentary picture perfect of peace, appearing to feel just as light as you did and somehow the dullness of the moment, just him relaxing in bed with a good read as you came home… it was more alluring than one would think.

Steve looked up from the book when you wavered in the doorway, soft lopsided smile spreading on his face.

God, that smile. It might be over two years since you saw it for the first time, but it could still make you weak in your knees.

And somehow, it was now even more charming now than the day you met, more tender than just before you kissed for the first time, sweeter than when he proposed.

“Hey sweetheart,” he greeted you, appreciative gaze roaming your figure and the little too much skin on display – something you regretted when the warm sunrays had bid you goodbye, raising goosebumps. And Steve, the attentive man he was, noticed, his smile earning a teasing edge. “You look a bit cold in there.”

You resisted the urge to stick your tongue out.

“And you look pretty cosy in there. Thought you’d be either asleep or with Bucky.”

Steve shrugged, not letting go of his unfinished chapter just yet, knowing you had a routine to go through before joining him.

“Maybe I missed you. Maybe Bucky is an old man and needs his sleep.”

You chuckled, not rising to the bait – you knew what would follow if you dared to say Steve was just as old. Not that you would complain about Steve trying to convince you about the opposite. You could never.

“Well, I bet he still made you a promise of breaking a bone of mine or two if I ever hurt you. He’ll find energy for that, centenarian or not,” you hummed nonchalantly as you bounced off the doorframe, heading to the bathroom and leaving Steve puzzled by your remark.

“How did you know?” he called out after you, endearingly confused.

“That’s what big brothers do, love!”

Short silence was your answer as you reached for your toothbrush and begun your nighty ritual.

Steve must have figure out what did it mean for him, considering you had a protective brother of your own, because a moment later, his half-amused “noted!” reached your ears.

You chuckled and shook your head, smile spread on your face which you didn’t think could be erased as long as you were in this paradise – free of worry, full of joy. And why wouldn’t you be? You were about to marry one of the smartest, kindest, sassiest and most beautiful men that ever walked the Earth. What was not to love?

You couldn’t but let your mind wander again; if you had only known the day you met, right from that moment, that you’d end up here…. well. It felt a little surreal, knowing that by this time tomorrow, you’d be Steve’s wife; then again, Steve’s life story was surreal enough on its own.

Who would have thought that the stubborn handsome man in the ridiculous suit and you, equally stubborn about you at least checking on the wound upon half-dragging him to a quiet corner in a middle of a battlefield, would grow so close?

It hadn’t been simple. Steve wasn’t the most open guy and while friendly enough, he wasn’t exactly offering his heart on his sleeve, not to strangers. But it hadn’t been too hard, once you were meeting on regular basis. Piece by piece he revealed his true colours and soon after he did… you started falling; hard and fast.

Not necessarily swooning, not on the outside at least; you were a professional, after all. The safety and the well-being of the team was your priority.

It was just too bad – or the best thing, you supposed – that Steve had the same goal as you with one significant difference; as far as he was concerned, the responsibility to look after his team sometimes excluded him.

Oh, was he wrong about that.

And boy, did you let him know you thought so. You still kept proving him wrong to this day and was planning on nurturing his own acknowledgement of his self-worth till your last breath…

“Get your ass in here, Steve!” you called out after him, slowly losing patience as you had tried asking politely the previous two times with no result but being dismissed.

The change of tone and language made his head snap to you from where he was talking to Sam, an offended scowl on his face.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Captain. Don’t be a stubborn jerk and get your ass in here so I can clean your cuts.”

A few months ago, you wouldn’t have been able to talk to him like that; to the great legend, Captain America. At least you certainly wouldn’t have called him his first name and maybe, just maybe, you’d be a little less crass. But now? He might be Captain America still, a hero who deserved all the good things for the sacrifices he made for the world’s safety, but first and foremost, he was just Steve to you.

A colleague, a teammate, a friend. You might not be a part of the team per se, not the way Clint, Natasha or Steve were, but you still belonged. And you were all friends.

Friends irritated each other sometimes and frankly, Steve was often battling with Tony for the mantle of the most infuriating one.

Friends also needed to call each other out on their bullshit by any means necessary when the time was right and now the time was as good as any.

Usually, Steve slipped through your fingers, because he was a supersoldier and the others weren’t, so their injuries took precedence; today, it was only Natasha, Sam and Steve, and the captain was the only one whom you hadn’t checked yet. And you knew there were things to check, the trickle of blood from his eyebrow probably the least of your concerns.

“I wouldn’t argue with her, Steve. She can be pretty stubborn. Clint wouldn’t stop complaining about it,” Natasha supported you from the pilot seat and you fought yourself so you wouldn’t grin at her in victory – it would only irritated Steve further. “She’s almost as bull-headed as you are.”

At that, your smile would have slipped. But honestly, she wasn’t wrong.

“Don’t I know it,” Steve grunted, sparing Sam another glance and when the Falcon himself beckoned to you as well, wordlessly asking Steve to get himself checked up.

The captain sighed irately, but made his way back to the separate and well-lit space of your examination room.

He didn’t try to hide his annoyance – in fact, he squared his shoulders and his steps sounded a bit loud for anyone to believe it was a coincidence. Also, the scowl of exasperation never left his otherwise handsome face.

“This is completely unnecessary. A stupid waste of time,” he hissed as he walked past you and you took a deep calming breath, exchanging an eyeroll with Sam before you disappeared from sight.

“Captain. I respect you and your position, but you say one more time that my job here is unnecessary and stupid, you’ll be looking for a new medic,” you retorted as he stripped the upper part of his uniform angrily, revealing his white-tank-top-clad torso.

Well, at least the fabric used to be white – now a blood stain the size of both of your palms was seeping into the material at Steve’s right side, gushing from what definitely appeared to be a knife wound.

You were gonna murder him one of those days... unless he got killed himself first.

“Seriously?!”

“It’s just a graze-” he started to argue but you cut him off when you tore the fabric away. He winced as some of the dried blood had acted as a glue, having stuck the cloth into the wound, and now was violently ripped off.

“Tr to insinuate again that I’m incompetent at recognizing what’s just a graze, Steve. I dare you. This is a cut wide and deep enough for stitches! Haven’t you had the serum, you could have been bleeding out to death on this table!”

“But I do have it-“

“Or for fuck’s SAKE, stop being a baby and let me treat the bloody gash in your right mesogastric area! The serum accelerates your healing, but it doesn’t make you invincible OR immortal as far as I know--- Jesus fucking Christ-!”

He bristled, taking a deep breath to fight back, but he never got the chance, because you started working and the words died in his throat. Surprisingly, inspecting the damage, poking around a knife wound that might have already begin to seal itself thanks to Erskine’s formula but had not been just a graze hurt and coincidentally, it pulled the rug from under his feet.

To his credit, Steve barely even hissed at the pain.

“Just so you know, I’ll be using the disinfection that stings worse,” you noted, voice dripping venom, because you were genuinely done with Steve’s bullshit.

You lied through your teeth though. You wouldn’t. No matter how infuriating Steve was and how difficult he made your life – causing you to fall for his stupid martyr ass and pine after him among other things – you would never purposely hurt him.

And he must have sensed that, because your remark didn’t earn you a murderous glare or a retort – much to your surprise.

In fact, Steve fell entirely quiet, watching you work without protest, not even objecting when you applied enough local anaesthetic to knock out an elephant and sewed the tissue together so it healed easier. He let you inspect the rest of his torso and bandage his ribs, vigorously shaking his head when you asked him if he was injured anywhere below the waist.

He observed you as you kept an eye on his face for any minute sign of pain he’d be hiding, but all you could see were his irises, startlingly bright blue, pools of honesty and something you had trouble decoding. He seemed… humbled almost. It silenced the anger inside you, the flames of rage – and fear for his well-being, if you were being honest with yourself – turning into a barely smouldering pile of ash.

When you moved on to his head, gently pushing away the strands which obscured the gash on his eyebrow, his eyelids slid shut. You knew how unpleasant facial injuries were, especially around one’s eyes and so you took care to be extra careful as you cleaned the wound and the area surrounding it, most definitely not using the stingy disinfectant.

Not that Steve could get an infection as far as you knew. It was more force of a habit than anything else… and it made you feel better. He had this idiotic mask of an invincible hero he put up sometimes and it drove you insane, because you knew he was only human, a beautiful kind soul, but god, could he be an ass.

“Almost done,” you whispered soothingly when you noticed his jaw tightening as you had to apply a bit more pressure to get a tiny piece of gravel from the cut. You certainly didn’t want that to stay under the newly healing skin.

The moment you retreated with the bloody gauze, Steve’s eyes were back on you, wide and regretful.

“I’m sorry,” he offered quietly, a genuine apology that sounded almost absurd after you two were hissing at each other like damn hellcats. “I didn’t mean to--- I’m sorry for being rude and ungrateful. Thank you for taking care of my injuries.”

One glance into those deep irises and benign hesitant smile and you were done for. How could you stay mad at him? Well, you were still mad at him for the absolute disregard of his own health, but… well. You also understood he felt like he needed to stay strong for the team and put them first and how he actually was in pain.

Pretty much everyone was a pain in the ass when in pain.

You sighed as you searched for few band-aid strips to cover the cut.  

“It’s alright, Steve. I’m used to old men being grumpy and not meaning things they say when they are,” you offered lightly and he hung his head with a chuckle, clearly not taking the old man remark personally – and understanding you were referring to your brother.

His smile was wider when he looked up again. “You shouldn’t have to be used to it.”

You shrugged, carefully slipping two fingers under his chin to angle his face so you could stick the strips over the wound.

“Well, I deserve it sometimes. I don’t mean to… to be overbearing and make you feel like you’re incompetent or something,” you added hesitantly, worrying your teeth over your lower lip as the tone you’d been handling him with caught up with you. Perhaps you could have been nicer.

You smoothened the stripes of band-aid, gulping as you felt Steve’s gaze boring into your face while you continued.

“I know you’re not incompetent. You’re very capable, you’re the best. It’s just… I still--- worry- for all of you. For the full-time Earth’s mightiest heroes. Silly, huh?” you muttered self-depreciatingly and when your eyes met, you were startled by the intensity he watched you with as you laid your fears bare in front of him, leaving you vulnerable. You swiftly looked away and dropped your hands. “Here, almost as good as new.”

A lump grew in your throat as you stripped your gloves, tossing them into the bin. Did you reveal too much? Didn’t it sound silly indeed as you said it out loud? Yes, you were all friendly with each other, but you were supposed to be a professional, focused on your task, not getting distracted by-

-by Steve gently grasping your wrist, causing your heart to skip a startled beat. Definitely not getting weak in the knees when you shot him a surprised glance and he just… brought your hand to his face, lips briefly skimming over your knuckles.

Jesus Christ, Lord have mercy with me.

“Don’t you ever apologize for caring. Don’t stop caring. Silly is the last thing I’d call it.”

Your cheeks felt like set on fire, stomach fluttering as well as your heart. You could feel the ghost of Steve’s lips on your skin, sending your heartrate sky-high, causing your head to spin a bit, your body hot all over.

Did he really—did he just-? And did it mean that… did it mean anything at all?

He let go of your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles, but held your gaze adamantly as he gave you a sad smile and rose to his feet, clearly ready to leave.

You, on the hand, stood there frozen, mind racing.

Why had he done that? Was he really just trying to express gratitude and say sorry for his previous behaviour? Because that was not the way it was supposed to be done, because such tenderness left you entirely bewildered. Was he trying to tell you he was somehow interested in something more than friendship? Was he just high from the anaesthetic, mind you, local one that was not supposed to mess with his brain? Was there any sign of a head injury you missed?

“Thank you, again,” he whispered softly, moving to sidestep you and your hand instinctively shot out, latching onto his forearm… gently.

You gulped, heart stuttering when he glanced at you, puzzled.

One part of you wanted to sink into the floor in embarrassment at your unwitting reaction. Another part of you observed him so closely that you would swear that there was another emotion in his eyes and it was neither apology nor gratitude. You wistfully hoped for longing, the same longing you felt when you were near him, sometimes distant and barely there, other times so acute it hurt.

With your stomach somersaulting in doubt, you willed yourself to raise your free hand slowly, purposely giving him a chance – Lord, please, don’t let him take it – to stop you before your palm settled on his cheek.

You were certain you experienced a small cardiac arrest when Steve not only didn’t avoid the touch, but actually leaned into it, gaze fixed on your face, eyes brighter and softer than you ever remembered seeing. Your gaze flickered to his mouth deliberately, throat turning dry. Too daring? He kissed you knuckles, surely you could reciprocate some affection?

Swallowing against your dry throat, you leaned in before you could change your mind and dropped the briefest peck to his lips, causing his eyelids to flutter shut.

Oh no. Oh no no no no, you totally crossed a line-

You went to retreat your hands from him, but the second you moved, his eyes were snapping open, hand covering yours on his face to keep it there, the other cradling your face and then there was a warm and soft sensation on your own lips as he seized them with his.

Your mind went completely blank save two single thoughts: Steve is kissing me. I really like that.

A small sound escaped you, a blend of surprise and contentment, breaking you from your trance and turning you into an actual participant of the pleasant and entirely unexpected activity.

You drew in a small breath, head spinning from the scent of Steve’s shampoo, disinfectant, sweat and something you couldn’t quite put your finger on and not caring.

He tasted faintly of blood, but otherwise was nothing but sweet as his lips caressed yours, gently tugging at your lower lip and then the upper, the lightest graze of teeth and tease of tongue, finger pressing into your jaw to pull you closer, thumb stroking your cheek.

You whimpered involuntarily when his lips parted from yours, soothing as they returned for a short peck, to drop a brief kiss to the corner of your mouth, to brush your cheek.

Your name was a breathy whisper between the two of you, barely audible as all you could hear was your heartbeat pulsing frantically in your ears, growing aware of your fingers clutching at Steve’s still unzipped armour and nearly sinking in his hair, his hot breath tickling your skin.

You didn’t dare to open your eyes – what if you dreamed it up? What if you looked at him and saw regret – it didn’t feel like he would be regretting it, but… still. Insecurity tugged at your mind as it slowly cleared from the literally breath-taking kiss.

Steve repeated your name with urgency that was unheard of, the single word sounding almost as a plea.

“Please say something.”

Oh.

You blinked your eyes open, surprised to be met with his searching gaze, a minute furrow of his brows. It seemed you weren’t the only one whose mind was being the worst of one’s enemies.

Perhaps your brain was being stupid. Perhaps you both wanted this. Perhaps you felt exactly the same.

As you forced yourself to move, fingers actually slipping into his hair to caress his nape, Steve inhaled shakily, shoulders slumping. The tinniest of smiles tugged at his mouth, tempting red and minutely swollen from the kiss; you had to resist the urge to just taste it again.

Instead, you licked your lips only, savouring the previous sensations, smiling unwittingly.

“That’s… uhm, that’s a really creative new way of driving me crazy.”

Steve’s eyebrows rose along with one corner of his mouth, relief written all over his face.

“Oh? There are other ways in which I’m driving you crazy? Because I couldn’t tell...”

You narrowed your eyes, but you didn’t think he bought you unconvincing act of being irritated with him at such remark.

“Don’t push it, Captain,” you warned him, but your treacherous mouth kept curling up in a smile, your body still buzzing with aftershocks of the kiss.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Uh-huh… s-sure,” you stuttered briefly as his thumb caressed your cheek, bright smiling eyes watching only inches from your face – and yet it felt like he was too far.

“You’re driving me crazy too, you know,” he noted in a breathy voice, causing you to gulp as his gaze flickered to your mouth, clearly implying how you do so… among other ways… like your stubbornness practically matching his.

“Oh really? I do? I couldn’t tell…”

He chuckled, his hand slipping to your nape, soft tickle of his fingers making you squirm.

“I’m gonna kiss you again now if that’s okay,” he whispered, not waiting for your permission and erasing the distance between your lips again.

Still, you whispered your approval to his mouth.

“So okay…”

Long moments later when Sam called out to warn you that you’d be landing soon, you said yes to the grumpy old man’s request to let him treat you dinner.

Oh if you only knew by then how far you’d come…

Lost in thought, goofy smile on your face, you exited the bathroom, ready to snuggle your future husband… and to fully take the opportunity to make love, last night before you officially became his and he became yours.

You had a brief second to register that the bed was empty, your heart skipping a started and disappointed beat. The second you stepped out though, you were literally swept off your feet.

A yelp erupted from your throat as you found yourself with no ground under your feet and high in the air, one of Steve’s arms under your knees, the other under your back. Your hands frantically gripped at the nearest firm point, Steve’s shoulder and arm as you finally realized what the hell happened and was met with a cheeky grin and sparkling blue of his eyes.

That traitor was waiting just by the door to ambush you! Why?

You slapped his very much bare shoulder playfully, hissing a curse, not unaware of the heat radiating of him and seeping into your skin.

“You jerk! You almost gave me a heart attack!” you complained, but he didn’t even have the decency to look apologetic.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

“No, you’re not.”

Steve grinned wider, shrugging and pulling you closer to his torso, nuzzling your temple and dropping a placatory kiss there.

“Still looking a little cold.”

“No, I look like this because you scared me,” you emphasized, vainly trying to resist the seduction; a mixture of playfulness, sweetness and blatant display of strength as he still held you with ease. It was hard not to be temped. “And you look like you’re awfully warm, parading here without a shirt.”

“Well, I’d call us even since you’re parading around in these absolutely sinful shorts. Makes me hot. I can warm you up,” he mumbled to your skin, lips moving to your ear, causing you to shudder.

How was it so easy for him to make you all hot and bothered? You guessed that at least, as he said, it made you even... it wasn’t difficult to get him riled up either.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Driving you crazy?” Steve offered, sounding awfully delighted at the idea and you only melted into him further at the reminiscence of your first kiss and what followed.

“Always,” you confirmed, deadly serious, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips or the mewl that escaped you when his teeth grazed the shell of your ear, warm breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck.

“But you love it.”

“Uh-huh…”

“I can live with that with that then,” he said, stalking to the bed determinately. “Now let me drive you so crazy you can barely speak and the only sound you’re making is whimpering my name.”

He all but tossed you on the bed, a yelp of his name in fact erupting from your throat, followed by a fit of giggles that only died when his mouth seized yours, his lips only leaving when heading south to indeed drive you crazy.

And yes; you loved it.

And you loved him too.

In one unending moment I fall within your reach My song a sweet surrender Hold on to me Hold on to me

Before the girls could steal you from him, Steve decided – with your enthusiastic agreement – that you should once again try how it felt to make some morning lovin’ outside marriage. With the ceremony planned for the late afternoon, you had plenty of time; and needless to say, it was bliss. Then again, you believed that marital sex with Steve would be just as delightfully pleasant, thank you very much.

Then, it was a whirlwind – make up, hair, dress, a tear or two spilled when you saw the result in the mirror.

More tears spilled when you glanced out of the window and saw the tastefully and modestly decorated arch, the path created by few scattered rose petals, the male part of your almost family sans Clint in the suits, effectively hiding Steve from you; and you from his just in case, because no one wanted any bad luck.

Your staring was interrupted when your brother went to pick you up to lead you down the aisle.

Upon entering the room and setting his gaze on you, he promptly looked away with a sniffle. It both warmed your heart and made you laugh as did his remark.

“Nope, not giving you to him. In fact, I’m never giving you to anyone. No one will ever be worthy, so I’m keeping you.”

“Hush, Clinton, you’ll still have me,” Natasha winked at him as he took a deep calming breath before carefully eyeing you again.

Clearly, it hadn’t done the job, because few tears still found their way down his cheeks.

“You’re a knock-out, sis,” he sputtered hastily, but no less honestly – clearly moved to tears.

And yet… you snorted at his choice of words and he rolled his eyes, quick to compliment your beauty instead.

You wouldn’t have it any other way though, even appreciating his first remark more for it came from the bottom of his heart rather than from what convention required.

Embracing you carefully in fear he would mess up the work of art his wife and other girls created, he held you in his arms for a moment, as you retuned the hug, clutching at his suit with a little too force. From the corner of your eye, you noticed the bridesmaids clearing the room.

“It’s not like I’m leaving you, Bobo,” you hummed with a smile, throwing his own words from last night at him.

And you weren’t leaving him; your heart swelled with love for your brother, your father figure, your long-life friend.

With sniffle, he let go of you and looked you up and down, proud smile spreading on his lips.

“It’s okay. If you are, I have the best spy in the world for a wife, we’ll drag your ass back home.”

You just slapped his chest playfully and took a deep breath – it was time. Clint grasped your hand firmly then, elbows interlocking, and went to step out just a moment after the bridesmaids left to join the groomsmen.

Well-aware everyone was going to stare and that Steve awaited you at the end of the aisle to marry you, your legs were shaking minutely as the magnitude of the event finally dawned to you.

“Getting second thoughts now?” Clint teased you, eliciting a chuckle from you and shake of your head.

What a question.

“No. Just… please don’t let me fall,” you muttered to him, entirely serious and grateful for your choice of footwear – simple flats hidden by the long flowing skirt of your dress. Better chance of not spraining your ankle on your wedding day.

“Never.”

Clint squeezed your hand under his warm palm and you took a deep breath, stepping into the doorway. Soft melody welcomed you, your very own wedding march Bruce was playing on a mouth organ – something you had previously had no idea he was capable of.  

Looking up from your skirt, you feasted your eyes on the company and the beautiful scenery for only a regretfully short moment, grateful for Sam’s Redwing programmed to record and take photos.

Your gaze instinctively searched the small crowd instead, until it fell under the arch where three men stood.

One of them was Sam himself, having obtained a licence so he could be your wedding registrar; he looked positively dashing. So did Bucky, who patted his best friend dressed in his old-fashioned green captain uniform on the shoulder, his smirk visible even from tens feet away as he stepped back.

Naturally, your gaze lingered on Steve, your feet acting of their own accord and following your brother’s lead.

Gosh, your future husband was the most handsome and absolutely hottest specimen to ever walk the Earth. Hair combed neatly to one side and in his old army uniform, he truly looked like the gentleman from another era he was and yet, he undeniably belonged exactly where he was. His eyes were bright and blue just like the sky, lips slightly parting before curling up into a brilliant smile which somehow still carried the tenderness he treated you with when he felt particularly affectionate.

He must have uttered something under his breath, because Bucky pressed his lips together as if he was holding back laugh. The absolutely best best man, ladies and gentleman.

Your found yourself smiling just as widely, a stray tear tickling the corner of your eye and you had to fight the sudden urge to ditch Clint in order to gather your skirts and run the rest of the way just to jump into Steve’s arms.

But in reality, there was no rush – here, on the damn island Tony rented, there was so much time that one short walk meant nothing in comparison.

“Alright, maybe I’ll give you to him,” Clint whispered, making you bite the inside of your cheek so you would cackle.

Leave it to your brother he would find Steve Rogers so fine he’d be willing to give you out just to have him become a part of your family.

One corner of Steve’s lips twitched in amusement – supersoldier hearing didn’t miss the remark then. Good. Then Bucky heard it too and you had a witness just in case Clint would change his mind. Again.

Finally, with your heart almost in your throat, you reached the end of the aisle, Clint gently putting your hand into Steve’s… without letting go.

“You be nice to her, Cap. And I mean really nice, you hear? Or else-“

“Hush,” you hissed good-naturedly in your brother’s direction, winking at him before you returned your gaze to Steve. “Hey there, handsome.”

Steve chuckled under his breath when Clint stepped back. He returned the greeting with soft ‘hey there, beautiful’ and then proceeded to lift your joined hands, brushing your knuckles with his lips – just like the day you shared your first kiss.

Well now you truly found yourself on the verge of crying. And Lord, you wanted to kiss him so much-

Sam cleared his throat loudly, casting you both a meaningful look as if he could read your mind and wanted to remind you that there were a few things to go through before that could happen.

Ugh. Formalities. Just let me kiss him…

Steve licked his lips – the audacity! – and turned, lightly tugging at your hand so you both faced your friend who held a little leather book open, beckoning towards the guests: Bucky and Natasha, the best man and the best woman, Clint, Bruce, Tony, Vision, Wanda, Sharon, Pepper. Just your closest friends and family.

Sam cleared his throat again.

“Alright. We all know why we gathered here today. To get these two amazing people married, so they could officially become a special team within our team.”

You grinned, peripherally noticing Steve eyeing you as well. Team indeed.

“This is the part where I would ask all of you, bride and groom included, to speak up now if you’re aware of anything standing in the way of this wedlock or to remain silent forever. But frankly, if you have something to say, right now is the perfect time to keep it to yourself. Just let these lovebirds get married…”

Muffled laughter and giggles erupted from your group. Honestly, you wouldn’t say it better. You noticed Clint shifting and Natasha forcefully holding his hand down; you bit down on your lip so you wouldn’t laugh and sent her a grateful smile instead. The best maid of honour ever.

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear, folks. We have the rings, correct? Great. Just so you know, these two saps asked me to read one vow which they are making to each other, because they didn’t trust themselves to say theirs individually without bursting into tears. So now it’s left to me to cry instead. Thanks for that.”

Your cheeks were honestly starting to hurt from smiling so wide, but tears prickled in your eyes acutely just at the thought of the vow you agreed on. You spent countless hours thinking about what you wanted to say and realized that your vow would be too long and that you would in fact start crying and that you could never name all the things you loved Steve for. It had been a relief to find out that Steve shared the sentiment and the deal was made.

Natasha and Bucky dutifully laid the rings on the pillow Wanda’s powers held levitating by your and Steve’s side – not without Bucky finding a split second to compliment your appearance and earning a brief smirk from Steve.

“I know,” Steve uttered and you wondered if there was a dare going around as to who would make you burst out laughing first.

This was your wedding dammit. You could be at least a bit a lady and remain collected.

Hardly.

“With this ring,” Sam started, breathing in and out and you knew you already lost, first tear rolling down your cheek as you gazed into Steve’s inviting eyes, “I give myself to you without giving up myself. With this ring, I surrender to you for I have faith you understand the value of wielding such power and for I deem you worthy of it. With this ring, I promise to love you, to respect you and to support you to be your best self as I trust you to do the same for me, for us.”

You blinked away the waterfalls, reaching almost blindly for Steve’s ring and with fingers trembling – with giddiness, not nerves – you somehow succeeded at slipping it on his left ring finger.

“I do,” you whispered, your voice cracking even in such simple sentence and the watery smile Steve graced you with made your ribcage feel too small for your swelling heart.

Fingers equally clumsy, he slipped a ring on you as well, shoulders squaring as if in pride.

“I do,” he said firmly, the damp path down his left cheek only adding severity to his vow.

“You may-- uhm, okay, you may kiss the bride, your wife--- I mean, Mrs. Rogers. You may kiss the groom, your husband…” Sam mumbled under his breath until he didn’t, because Steve pulled you in for a kiss the same moment Sam said the first ‘may’ and incidentally, the same moment you practically threw yourself at Steve.

Laughter and whistles erupted from the group of your friends as Steve bend you back dramatically, the determined press of his lips to yours not at all disrupted by the change of angle, claiming your mouth in ways that made you shudder and stirred flames in your belly.

Years and years later, you’d recall that kiss and realized an amazing thing; how it felt just like your first kiss, your last one, and every single one in between.

With you still practically horizontal, Steve’s crinkling eyes met yours, delighted smile on his kiss-swollen lips.

“I love you, Mrs. Rogers,” he hummed, adding a cheeky grin. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“The horror,” you muttered back teasingly, pulling at his nape, demanding another kiss, your own declaration whispered to his mouth. “I love you too, Mr. Rogers.”

And you did. Gosh, you did.

S.R. masterlist

(divider by firefly-graphics)

Well. This turned out SO DIFFERENTLY than I anticipated and SO MUCH LONGER. If you feel like leaving feedback, I’ll be grateful. If not, well. *shurgs*

Excuse me while I go and continue dreaming of ONE fictional man. Ugh. Anyway.

Thank you for reading!

And once again, thanks to WIYBUPT for hosting and for just being awesome in general :)