#another quinjet bites the dust

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #287: INVASION!

January, 1988

A New Year! We’re getting closer to the 90s! A time where bad art roams the book, Black Knight’s romantic life becomes the big central axis of the plot, and leather team jackets!

This is all what I’ve heard about the 90s. Looking forward to seeing it myself. I’ve been surprised before!

But I’m getting two years ahead of myself and there’s an ongoing story here that bridged ‘87 to ‘88.

As you may guess from this wild cover, its about the Fixer.

Last time on Avengers: the Masters of Evil tried to destroy the Avengers and failed but did beat Hercules into a coma and wreck Avengers Mansion. Hercules is fine. He got kidnapped back home and his dad got super mad at the Avengers but we’re past that now. The Mansion being destroyed has caused the Avengers to move to Hydrobase, an artificial island that they were renting to park their Quinjets on.

Wasp stepped down from chairwomanship of the team and since the people with seniority like Captain America and Thor were too busy and since the ambitious like Dr Druid were too new, Monica Rambeau Captain Marvel was the obvious choice.

Dr Druid may be trying to undermine her though. He was certainly being a creep last issue. Spying on people, going over her head. That kind of thing.

Also last issue, the Fixer escaped custody thanks to a failsafe in his equipment that went off and controlled a random scientist named Todd Martin to bust him out of jail.

Fixer has some Big Plan to Fix Things and tried to collect the Awesome Android for his plan but drove away empty handed when the Avengers showed up. But Namor’s wife and former Alpha Flightateer Marrina tried to show she Wasn’t Just A Love Interest and went off and got herself captured by the Fixer.

Namor doesn’t know that yet.

He’s just doing a frighteningly intense close-up because she ran off and didn’t come back.

He stops a couple of random children cyclists and ask if they’ve seen any yellow women around. TO THEIR UTTER CONFUSION.

After Namor flies off, one of the children decides that they must be filming an episode of Star Trek around here.

To be fair... to be fair to be fair to be faiiiiir ... to be fair, Namor does look like Buff Spock.

Though... After the cliffhanger of last issue where Fixer captured Marrina, he just shoves her unconscious out the back of his truck and drives away.

Its a pretty benign way to deal with a capture superhero. Depending on whether Fixer knew another truck would be coming up the road after not too long.

A truck does come up the road after not too long, right where Marrina is sprawled woozily.

Good thing she has sea strengthened limbs!

Namor is drawn by the sound of a truck crumpling over Marrina and she tries to explain what happened to her. Namor decides that the nonplussed truck driver is actually the Fixer in disguise and prepares to punch him but Marrina stops him. In fact, she tells Namor the truck driver may have saved her by slamming the brake when he saw her in the road.

To his credit, Namor does apologize for doing the man a startle.

Elsewhere, the Fixer completes his journey in his truck to a certain warehouse in a certain suburban industrial park, expecting to meet a certain someone.

Back at the Avengers, the Avengers clean up from the Awesome Android fight and explain to the cops why a barn exploded in their presence.

Captain Marvel explains that the Avengers will pay for the damages and I have to imagine someone Tony flinches and doesn’t know why. I wonder if it feels weird to him to be on one team and paying for another.

The cops are bemused.

A cop, looking stereotypically small town coppish, with the jacket and the sunglasses and the hat and jodhpurs for some reason: “Ma’am, we’re just not used to filing reports about super hero fights with giant androids. It’s going to read like a drive-in movie script.”

Also fun fact: the Awesome Android is part organic. Black Knight takes some science scans of the downed automaton.

After Captain Marvel finishes speaking to the cops, Dr Druid drags her off to the side and asks if maybeeeeee she should be sitting down. I mean, she did just get gassed half an hour ago.

Captain Marvel firmly tells him that she’s fine.

But c’mon dude. Make up your mind. You drag her to her feet, loudly insisting it’ll be bad for morale if she’s laying on the ground in front of the team and now you’re telling her to sit down because she shouldn’t be standing.

Are you even a medical doctor?

To prove to Dr Druid that she’s perfectly fine, Monica transforms into energy but its clear that the effort makes her woozy.

Dr Druid is like well if you ask me you sit down but whatever I’m going to go see how the Android is doing.

And speak of the devil and an Awesome Android will reactivate.

The Android stirs back to life and takes a grab for Black Knight who flips out of the way. IN ARMOR. God damn, dude.

One of the cops tries shooting him, to no effect.

And then She-Hulk BOOMPs the Awesome Android in the armpit again and down he goes again.

So. Do you think BOOMP is a loud noise or a soft noise? I think its supposed to be a thunderous noise, like a BOOOOOM with a puh at the end. But she’s basically punching his armpit-based off switch so it could be more of a button pressing chirp like BOOP! with an m in it.

Let me know what you think.

Anyway, the media shows up to interview the Avengers. And they’re pretty excited! Local news never gets to interview the Avengers!

Unfortunately, they’re also very annoying.

The mistake he made there was being annoying at She-Hulk, the one Avenger present least required to be polite.

The press then doubles down by annoying Namor when he shows up with Marrina by asking him if he’s really the ruler of the mythical land of Atlantis.

Namor: “Mythical? No more mythical than the fabled arrogance and ignorance of newmen.”

Reporter: “But that doesn’t answer --.”

Namor: “Indeed, it does.”

Hah.

Sometimes when Namor is in the right mood, instead of just yelling and threatening to hit things, he gets extremely wry and its great.

The weird note from Namor (and Marrina) appearing on the news due to this though is that Dan Smallwood sees the interview and is shocked because that’s his childhood sweetheart! Marrina, I mean. Not Namor. Namor is nobody’s childhood sweetheart. Althoooough, I think he did grow up with Attuma and Dorma? Whatever. No love lost now.

Back at the Fixer side of the plot, in the Fixer’s secret hideout, he finds the guy he was expecting to find. His old pal Mentallo, who he asked to meet him.

Mentallo assumes that the Fixer is here to propose a partnership between them like old times.

Mentallo: “With your power to fix anything -- cobble any object into a weapon... and my invincible ability to read minds and project thoughts, how could anyone stand against us?”

He’s even undaunted by the Fixer wearing a psychic proof helmet despite their long friendship and the time they almost took down SHIELD together.

Mentallo is a little put out when Fixer tentacles him and prepares to torture him though.

That’s a bit of an unwelcome surprise to him.

... I don’t mean to kick a man while he’s being tentacled but having Fixer and Mentallo side by side makes me realize how boring their outfits are. Its fine when its one or the other but both of them... geez, someone get a chest emblem or something.

Back with the Avengers, they’ve finally gotten Awesome Android to a local airfield in preparation for getting him to Hydrobase, with the help of the National Guard.

Not what the National Guard usually deals with so I imagine it was an exciting day for them.

Namor proposes that they immediately get back to searching for the Fixer for being a heinous dude who shoves underwater women out the back of trucks.

Captain Marvel says yeah sounds great except they need to make sure the Awesome Android is securely secured before they go flying off somewhere. He could do a lot of damage if he woke up again and She-Hulk wasn’t here to punch him in the armpit.

She-Hulk concurs because Monica is the leader and also, pffft, its just the Fixer. Who gives a care?

Black Knight is more concerned that they don’t know what the dude is up to. Concerns validated when Dr Druid receives a psychic scream-o-gram from Mentallo who is being tortured by the Fixer.

Dr Druid broadcasts it to the rest of the team. Which is extremely funny because he seems pained by receiving the message but Monica is just like ‘huh, how about that.’

Whatever else you can say about Dr Druid, props for only broadcasting the helpful part of the message?

Namor repeats his proposal that they go find and beat up the Fixer, which Captain Marvel agrees to.

She tells the team to get back in the Quinjet except Marrina. Because someone needs to finish delivering the Awesome Android to Hydrobase and heyyyy you drew the short straw of not technically being officially on the team, Marrina!

Namor doesn’t say anything but I imagine he’s secretly relived Marrina will be out of the action. Given their conversations last issue. And how she ran off to prove herself and immediately got captured.

Anyway. The Avengers in their Quinjet head towards the location they got from Mentallo’s distress scream.

Not being an experienced superhero, Dr Druid finds it strange that an innocuous warehouse is a secret villain lair but She-Hulk tells him that’s pretty routine for supervillains.

Then an anti-air gun pops out of the warehouse and shoots down the Quinjet.

Oof, ow, Tony’s gonna be feeling that one in the budget sheet.

The Avengers tear themselves free of the wreckage, not much worse for the wear. Superheroes!

The secret supervillain warehouse lair fires missiles at the heroes but that just gives the Avengers an opportunity for them all to show off a little.

Namor catches the missiles and throws them right back at the warehouse.

Black Knight spins his sword to deflect the missiles because he saw Thor do it with his hammer and he wanted to give it a try.

She-Hulk just hops over the missiles and Captain Marvel blasts a missile heading towards her, despite still recovering.

Namor declares “enough games” and charges in through the hole he missiled. Electric cables tentacle at Namor and electrocute him but he grabs those cables and uses them to shock the machine that they came from.

She-Hulk: “Subby -- you okay? Looked like --”

Namor: “I will survive, She-Hulk. Namor ever has.”

That’s pretty cool, Namor.

In a recent comic, someone tries to electrocute him and tells them it was dumb to expect much from that tactic when he plays with electric eels for fun.

So, there’s an answer. Namor electrocutes himself recreationally.

There’s an additional layer of trap/security beyond the anti-air, missiles, and electric cables though.

A powerful fan starts up and sucks the Avengers into two separate pneumatic tubes.

She-Hulk and Black Knight end up in one. Dr Druid is also there, for some reason, and She-Hulk catches him so he doesn’t go into the fan. But that doesn’t leave her a hand for Dane and he goes hurtling at the turbine blades.

But he gets an idea.

An exceptionally cursed sword idea.

That must have made a sound like rocks in a garbage disposal but times a thousand.

Geez, that extremely cursed sword really fucked up that fan.

Namor and Captain Marvel ended up stuck in the other pneumatic tube, without a single extremely cursed sword to bail them out...

Even though Captain Marvel doesn’t feel like she can change into her energy form, she tells Namor to let her go so he can save himself.

He tells her nuts to that and rips a hole in the side of the pneumatic tube and carries them both to safety.

The safety of a dark corridor but, y’know, still better than where they were.

Captain Marvel: “I’m the leader of the Avengers, and it’s time I began acting in that capacity! This is where my power may aid us.”

And she summons all her reserves to turn into an energy Monica, to light up the corridor AND keep pace with Namor.

Namor: Such a very brave young woman -- not yet up to the task she undertakes... but unwilling to use weakness as an excuse. In truth, she possesses the qualities of leadership, though she has doubt.

She’s not able to maintain her energy form for long but right as she falters, She-Hulk BA-WHOOMs through the wall, reuniting the two halves of the team.

Captain Monica tells Dr Druid enough blundering around. Point them directly to where Mentallo is.

Dr Druid points and Captain Marvel has She-Hulk and Namor just tear a straight line to Mentallo.

Yay, teamwork.

Mentallo is still stuck to the wall so the Avengers help him down. Unfortunately, he’s not much help for finding Fixer.

In fact, he’s a bit out of it.

Mentallo: “Don’t know... can only tell you... he forced me to send... the mental summons. Forced -- me... You can’t -- can’t know what his mind is like! It was not the Fixer -- I -- I knew! The cerebral feedback -- unimaginable! His mind -- huge -- alien! ALIEN!”

And then he passes the fuck out.

Okay. That’s a “the plot thickens” if I’ve ever heard one.

Several hours later and also the next page, the Avengers happen to unravel part of the mystery at Hydrobase.

Since the team got back, Captain Marvel has been standing by and letting Dr Druid run the show.

Mmmmmnope. I don’t like it. Don’t like it at all.

But that’s the situation.

Dr Druid is arranging the Awesome Android to be placed in a containment tube, so She-Hulk won’t have to keep bopping him in the armpit.

 But he realizes that the containment tube has been recently tampered with! Dun dun dun?

Team Scientist Black Knight goes to check it out and fiiiinds...

The Fixer??

Oh, hey, mission accomplished. Bad guy caught. Lets break early for drinks.

One thing though... How did he get in the tube?

Because that’s really the real Fixer, as far as Dr Druid can tell after examination. But he’s been heavily sedated.

So he probably didn’t do a lot of drugs and stuff himself into a capsule to troll the Avengers, right?

Well, Captain Marvel has some insight about that.

Since she’s consistently the one who does her homework, she knows that tube is supposed to contain... THE SUPER-ADAPTOID!

A ridiculous AIM android that adapts to the abilities of adversaries.

It was originally sent to super-adapt Captain America but also fought the Avengers, looking like a truly ridiculous mash-up.

(There’s something charming about the first iteration of the Adaptoid just being palette swap Captain America Player 2. And I called it ridiculous but yes, the ridiculous mash-up is also charming for being a mess.)

Despite being able to copy eight people at a time, the Super-Adaptoid has been thwarted multiple times at the world domination game.

After its most recent defeat, the Super-Adaptoid was brought to Avengers Mansion to be held in a containment tube. But supervillains always break out of jail, even containment tube Avengers Mansion jail.

Somehow, (totally the Fixer’s fault) the Super-Adaptoid escaped when the Masters of Evil were busting up Avengers Mansion. It super-adapted the Fixer and then shoved the Fixer in the containment tube to cover its escape. Because the Avengers didn’t check the containment tube contents before transport.

Sort of a fail there, guys. But things were hectic after the Masters of Evil attack so you get a pass, this time.

But, hey, I’m impressed that the wrecking of the mansion is still paying out consequences! Really makes it feel momentous in the team history!

Captain Marvel warns the team that if the Super-Adaptoid is super-adapting this group of Avengers, they might be in some real trouble.

I mean, sheesh, Captain Marvel, Namor, She-Hulk, and also Dr Druid is there for some reason. Thankfully, Black Knight has no powers except owning an extremely cursed sword and I don’t thiiiiink the Super-Adaptoid can super-adapt magic.

But the Super-Adaptoid the Fixer has made his way to Queens to make a recruitment pitch to Machine Man.

If X-51 helps “the Fixer” with his schemeplan, he’ll bring Jocasta back to life.

No, don’t do it, Aaron! Be a good machine man!

On the other hand, Jocasta is neat... Uh, maybe go for it?

Follow @essential-avengers​ because we like Jocasta here. She’s rad. Like and reblog, if you liked this post and think others would like it.

[supercap2319]

Golden Light & Shields Chapter 5

Ikaris x Male Reader

A/N: Sorry for the late update. School’s a bitch.

All the Eternals, minus Makkari, Karun, and Y/N, walk through the deserts of Iraq with the intended destination of locating the Domo. They followed Phastos, as he had a tracking device that could locate their ship. Phastos and the others stop as they look at a digging site. The ground begins to shake and break apart as the things on top of the surface begin to cave in, but something rises from the dust and causes a whirlwind of dirt to go flying everywhere. Karun is filming with a camera as he witnesses the incredible sight. “The Domo. Wow.”The star-ship rises out of the dirt trench and into the air. This was so cool. Like the Helicarrier, or a Quinjet.

“How are we gonna get up there?” Y/N asked, looking down into the trench.

Ikaris smiled. “Like this.”

He swept Y/N off his feet and began to float in the air as he headed towards an opening in the ship. Once Ikaris safety put Y/N back on his feet; he went down and one by one brought everyone onto the ship until they were all together.

Karun was in front of them videotaping as Kingo talked in an eerie voice. “A foreboding atmosphere fills the air. An eerie stillness chokes our lungs.”

Phastos frowns. “What are you doing? You know you’re creeping us out. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, Kingo. This is a documentary. Not a horror movie,” Y/N said.

There is a loud popping noise as Phastos jumps and screams. “Oh! Oh, God!” He looks at Thena. “Stay calm, T, please!” They all look down and see Thena stepped on a bag of chips. Y/N giggles. Phastos picks up the bag and chuckles nervously. “Chips. It’s just chips.”

Kingo looks at the camera. “As you can see, being an Eternal does not preclude you from having human emotions such as cowardice.”

They walk inside the main room and see it’s littered with different items from across the world. It’s actually kind of cool. “What has she done? Is that… a sarcophagus in my lab?” Phastos asks, heading to his lab. They all look around as Kingo introduces a woman sitting on a throne, reading a book. “This is Makkari. Or should I say Miss Havisham? None of us have seen her for centuries.”

Makkari set her book down and smiled. She talks to them in sign language. “Ready to go home?”

“Hmm.”

Phastos is working a big construct as images flash in the air as he works on a plan to deal with Tiamut. Thena grabs a sword, swings it, knocking a suit of armor helmet to the side.

“Is that the Ebony Blade?” Sprite asks Thena as she puts down a scroll.

“Excalibur,” Thena smiles. She swings it and makes a clean cut through the air.

“Arthur always did have a crush on you,” Gilgamesh said.

Kingo and Makkari are signing to each. “So you mean… I’ve been waiting for centuries to go back to Olympia, and now you’re telling me… it doesn’t exist?” Makkari asks.

“That, and the world is ending,” Kingo signs back.

“At last my boredom is ending.”

“Have you seen my movies?” Kingo asks her.

Makkari frowns. “I don’t have a DVD player.”

“DVD? It’s all about streaming now. You know, what you need is a Kindle,” Kingo says. “Do you know what that is? It’s like a… You know, I just realized that if you don’t know what an iPad is, there’s almost no way to explain it.”

Ikaris, Y/N, and Druig are digging through the different items. Druig finds a box of Twinkies and Ikaris finds the Emerald Tablet. They both look at each other, then at the item in the other person’s hands. They both want what the other person has. They trade items and glare at one another as Ikaris opens the box and Druig looks at the tablet. Y/N chuckles. “Boys, play nice.”

“Do you want one, Duckling?” Ikaris asks Y/N.

Y/N takes the wrapped sponge cake and unwraps it and takes a bite of the creamy deliciousness. “So good.”

“I bet that’s not the only thing you’d love to put in your mouth,” Druig smirks.

“Shut it, ya dobber,” Ikaris says.

Makkari looks at Ikaris, Druig, and Y/N. She points to the young hero. “Who’s that?” She asks Kingo.

“That is Y/N Maximoff. Ikaris’s superhero boyfriend,” Kingo signs back.

“Boyfriend? Ikaris?” Makkari signs, a shocked look on her face.

“Right? I was shocked too. Because I never thought the Boss would be interested in men, but you know me, no judgment,” Kingo rants.

Druig comes up to them holding the Emerald Tablet, a smirk on his lips. “So, how did you end up scoring this…” he shows Makkari the tablet as she tries to grab it from him, but he pulls the tablet back. “Emerald Tablet, my beautiful, beautiful Makkari?” She snatched the tablet out of Druig’s hands.

“Did you miss me?” Druig signs to her. Makkari smiles.

“I’m sorry. What are we watching? Because this…” Phastos signs to Makkari. “Are you two…”

“Is this new?” Kingo asks. “Because I hate it.”

“Oh, come on, you guys. I think it’s sweet,” Y/N says. “It proves Druig does have a heart after all.” Druig glares at Y/N.

Y/N turns to Makkari and signs to the deaf Eternal. “Ikaris says you’re fast. So are my brother and I. We should have a race sometime.”

Makkari is shocked at first, but smiles. “Sounds like fun, but promise me you won’t cry when you lose.”

“I promise,” Y/N smiled.

“I didn’t know you knew sign language, Duckling,” Ikaris said.

“Clint taught me.”

“Phastos, I need to control the mind of a Celestial,” Druig says.

“Okay, get ready for it,” Phastos says and signs. He puts an image on the screen for everyone to see.

“Bracelets?” Kingo asks. “You made us bracelets?”

“So, here’s a little Celestial 101.Celestials are the most powerful energy generators in the universe. When Arishem made us, he imbued us with infinite cosmic energy to keep our bodies regenerating,” Phastos says. “The bracelets, in theory, shut down our regeneration process. And once that happens, our bodies accumulate extra cosmic energy.”

“What for?” Sersi asks.

“Well, if the Deviants can absorb our energy, what if we can absorb each other’s energy as well?” Phastos looked around. “If I can find a way to connect us all, one of us could become immensely powerful, pulling the accumulated energy from the rest, forming… a Uni-Mind.”

There’s a giant brain with mini versions of the Eternals combining energies together, an image to emphasize the point. Phastos looks at everyone with a smile on his face, proud of what he’s just announced. Everyone is silent. Phastos frowns. “Uni” meaning “one,” “mind” meaning “mind.”

“Oh, no, we heard you the first time,” Kingo said.

“Terrible name,” Sprite says.

“We’ll brainstorm… Brainstorm! That’s a way better name!” Kingo smiles.

“No, I invented it, so I’m calling it whatever I want,” Phastos says.

Y/N looked at the images. “So, you want everyone to combine their cosmic energy and transfer it to one of you to amplify your own abilities?”

“Exactly. See, someone gets it,” Phastos says.

“Like my friend, Carol, who, when she absorbs enough energy, enters a ‘binary form’ that makes her way more powerful. Powerful enough to go toe to toe with Thanos and take a punch from the power stone,” Y/N said.

“So suppose Druig can, say… put Tiamut to sleep. Then what?” Makkari asks.

“We find humans a new home on another planet,” Sersi said.

“Are we building a big ship, too? Take a pair of each animal?” Sprite sarcastically says.

“Well, you know what’s never saved the planet? Your sarcasm,” Phastos says.

“Space colonization could take decades,” Sprite protests.

“It can happen quickly with our help,” Sersi said.

“What if we end up accidentally killing Tiamut? We could be responsible for billions of lives not being created across the universe,” Kingo looks at Ikaris. “Boss, am I right?”

“Say something, Ikaris,” Sprite demands. “You don’t think we should be doing this.”

They all look at Ikaris expectantly. Ajak knows that look. The weight of pressure about making the hard decisions. She's had to do that for centuries now, and it never gets any easier.

“Why are you all looking at me? Ajak is still here, she’s still the leader,” Ikaris says.

“Forget that. You’re the strongest. You should be making this decision,” Sprite says.

“Hey, I'm deeply hurt, Sprite,” Gilgamesh says.

Ikaris is silent. Sprite rolls her eyes. “Fine. Just keep lying to yourself.” she storms off.

“Sprite,” Y/N calls.

Ikaris begins to walk away as well. “Okay, this is not…” Phastos starts as Kingo and Y/N follow after Ikaris. “Ikaris.”

“Don’t run after him. Kingo, Y/N, I… You guys.”

Y/N and Kingo follow Ikaris down the hall. “Hey. Don’t sweat it. Sprite’s always cranky. I used to hear her complaining even when she wasn’t there,” Kingo says.

“I’m okay, Kingo,” Ikaris says.

“You don't seem fine,” Y/N noted.

“If you think we should do this, I trust you. I will follow you to the end, like I always have,” Kingo said.

“What did you say?” Ikaris eyed Kingo.

“I will follow you to the end, like I always have, Kingo repeats.

“I’m not who you think I am,” Ikaris says, walking away from Y/N and Kingo.

Y/N sighed. “I'll go talk to him.” He follows after Ikaris, who flies off the ship and to the ground below. Y/N sighed again. How was he supposed to get down?

…

Y/N floated down towards the modern-day version of Babylon. Ikaris was standing in the middle of rocky hills as Y/N walked towards him, sand on his shoes. “I couldn't get down. I thought about throwing myself off the ship and creating a crater in the process,” but thank God for telekinesis,” Y/N smiled.

“How'd you find me?”

“I know a thing or two about tracking, and I saw you fly in this direction.”

“I’ve thought about this place a lot. Amazing how things change over time,” Ikaris looks around.

“Maybe you've changed. And maybe that's not such a bad thing,” Y/N said.

“You know, I’ve always thought of the Celestials like the ocean. They give life and they take life away without bias,” Ikaris looked at Y/N. “If they were gone, this universe would eventually end. What we’re trying to do is free humanity from the natural order of things.”

“It’s not natural to allow all life on an entire planet to be destroyed, but that's not what's really bothering you, is it?” Y/N said.

Ikaris sighed. “Just now, everyone was turning to me for answers and reassurance. And I couldn't give them that.” he looked at Y/N. “Why me? Ajak is still alive and should be making this call, not me.”

“It's okay to be afraid. It's a human emotion.”

“I'm not human, remember?”

“Yes you are. To me you are.”

Y/N put a hand to Ikaris's chest. “Feel that? My hand on your beating heart?” Y/N asked. Ikaris nodded his head.

“That's why everyone turned to you today. It's because they look up to you. They value your advice and know your heart is pure and strong enough to make this decision,” Y/N said.

“What if I'm wrong, Y/N?” Ikaris asked him. “What if we make things worse instead of better?”

“They couldn't get much worse than they already are, Iceberg,” Y/N reminds him. “If things do indeed get worse, then we'll deal with it. I've faced the impossible before and won. This time won't be any different.”

“Are you willing to bet our lives on that?”

“Are you willing not to?”

“So, you’d be willing to move to a new planet if it came down to it?” Ikaris looked down at Y/N.

“Yeah, I would. As long as you, my family, and friends are there by my side. Also, if this new planet has a (favorite restaurant or fast-food joint).”

Ikaris smiled. “I’m in love with you, Duckling. I’m grateful for the life I’ve lived with you.”

“Me too, Iceberg. I’ve wanted to be happy for so long and now I am. I'm not giving that up without a fight,” Y/N says.

“Do you really think you could be happy with me? An Eternal who never grows old?” Ikaris said.

“Always,” Y/N leans up and kisses Ikaris on the lips. Y/N feels Ikaris' warmth as a vision enters his mind, making him gasp. Y/N sees Ikaris, but it's not his Ikaris. He had no idea how he knew that or that this was on another Earth in another dimension, but he just knew. The events were happening just like they are now. The only difference is that Ikaris betrayed his friends, killed Ajak in the name of Arishem. There was no Y/N on this planet, and even if there were, it was too late.

Y/N gasps again as the vision leaves him. Ikaris looks at him, concerned. “What’s wrong Duckling? What happened?”

Y/N licks his lips and tries to process everything he just saw. Ikaris was a traitor to his friends. It wasn't possible. “I-I saw you. In another universe and you didn't want to stop the Emergence, but let it happen. You killed Ajak and betrayed the others.”

Ikaris was silent. A shocked look on his face. “I swear I would never—”

“—I know Ikaris. I'm not sure why I saw that vision. Maybe it's one of my new powers? To see the same events, but on different earths?”

“What kind of power is that?”

“Dr. Strange once used the time stone and astral projection to see different possible futures. Maybe it's like that,” Y/N said.

“Maybe,” Ikaris said.

“Hey, come on. I know you’re no Benedict Arnold.”

“Why would you see that? See me?” Ikaris asked.

“Maybe it's a clue.” Y/N said. “I think it's a clue on how to use the Uni-Mind. We should tell the others, because I have an idea.” Y/N began to walk in the direction of the ship.

“Y/N?” Ikaris called.

Y/N turned to him. “Yes?”

“Nothing,” Ikaris said as he followed Y/N, putting the ring back in his pocket.

They head back to the ship and find Ajak hunched over. They rush to her. “What's wrong with her?”

“It’s started. The Emergence has commenced,” Ajak says.

“Oh, no. My God.”

“What about the Uni-Mind?”

“I haven’t figured out a way to connect us, but I’m close. I’m very, very close,” Phastos said.

“How much longer?” Sersi asks.

“I don’t know, Sersi!” Phastos says.

Phastos grabs a device and hands it to Makkari. “Find the point of emergence.” She races off.

Druig and Thena are looking at a painting. “You always knew the end was coming. It must be a relief.” Druig looks at her.

“That Deviant is still tracking us,” Thena says.

“Revenge won’t bring peace for you, Thena.”

“But killing it might,” she smiles.

Ikaris grabs Y/N’s hand and leads him to another room in the Domo. It’s an empty room with a hologram of Arishem. Y/N frowns as he looks at Ikaris. “Where are we, Iceberg?”

Ikaris smiles. “Somewhere special.”

“If this is your way of getting a quickie before battle, then you can forget it,” Y/N said.

“That is the last thing on my mind right now, Duckling. Though, I do prefer to do it in the sands of Babylon,” Ikaris smiled.

The Eternal walked towards a wall and put his back flat against it. Before Y/N could ask what he was up to, there was a symbol on the wall that flashed as golden wires began to come out and inched towards Ikaris as they created his superhero costume over his clothes. His costume was blue with golden accents of different symbols on the suit, mixed together with armor. Ikaris stepped away from the wall and smirked at Y/N. “So, what do you think?” He asked, referring to his suit.

Y/N smiled. “It’s awesome, Iceberg. Really cool.”

“Thank you. I think we just might have to get you one, too. If you’re going to officially join the team,” Ikaris said.

“Wait? You want me to join your team?” Y/N asks.

“Of course, you’ve already proven you can handle Deviants. And everyone else would agree with me by asking if you’d like to be a part of the Eternals?”

Y/N was shocked, but also honored that these people he only just met a few days ago wanted him to be a part of them. “I’d love too, Ikaris.”

“Well, in that case. Right this way.” Ikaris led Y/N to his wall symbol as Y/N put his back to just like Ikaris had. The wires began to descend on Y/N as they began to create a suit of armor over his original hero costume. They went down his arms and legs as they created a suit similar to Ikaris’s, except Y/N’s was a light blue with red symbols, boots and fingerless gloves. Y/N looked down at his new suit before looking up at Ikaris with a smirk. “What? No cape?”

“Look again, Duckling.” Ikaris pointed behind Y/N’s back. A yellow cape formed from his shoulders down his back, past his calves. “This is so cool!” Ikaris smiled at his boyfriend’s enthusiasm. “Thor, eat your heart out.”

….

Y/N and Ikaris walk back into the room as the others discuss their plan of action. They look at Y/N and Ikaris in costume. Ready for action.

“Nice suit, Y/N,” Kingo says. “You did a great job Boss.”

Y/N blushed. “Thank you.”

“So where are we with the Uni-Mind? Any progress?” Ikaris asks.

“No. I can’t seem to make it work,” Phastos says.

“It’s okay, Phastos. I think I have an idea of how to make it work,” Y/N tells him.

“How?” Ajak asks.

“With the sphere inside you,” Y/N points to Ajak’s chest. “The sphere inside you lets you connect with Arishem, right?”

“Yes, that's correct.”

“Well, what if Phastos could take it out of you and reverse engineer it and create a connection between all of you instead?”

“And that could theoretically create the Uni-Mind. Y/N, that's brilliant!” Phastos said.

“Great.”

“But umm, I have to take it out of Ajak to use it.”

Ajak steps forward. “Do it then.”

“Okay.” Phastos’s hands glow as he uses his cosmic powers to try and pull the sphere out of Ajak safely.

“Don't kill her,” Thena says.

“Thena…”

“Do it, Phastos,” Ajak says.

Phastos concentrates as he tugs at the sphere inside Ajak and brings it forward. Her neck glows and a golden sphere comes out and levitates itself to Phastos.

“Will it work?” Sersi asks as Phastos breaks the shell covering the energy stone inside. “It has to.” Phastos uses the power from Ajak’s sphere and uses it to make the bracelets for the Uni-Mind. Taking out pieces he doesn't need until it's ready to go. Phastos smiles at his finished invention.

The other Eternals prepare for battle as they get their armored suits on. Even Sprite comes back from her little temper tantrum. They are all wearing the bracelet that Phastos made, connecting them together. Makkari found the point of the Emergence. Tiamut was located in an active volcano in the Indian Ocean.

The Domo flew towards the volcano as the Eternals and Y/N knew their mission. The Domo landed on the ground as Y/N, Ikaris, Sersi, Makkari, and Druig got off. The others stayed behind in the Domo but would come help if needed. Makkari and Y/N used their speed to zoom themselves and the others close enough for the Uni-Mind to work, but not close to the volcano.

“It’s time to put a god to sleep,” Sersi said.

Y/N looked at Druig. “Are you ready for this?”

Druig looks at Y/N. A frown on his face, but something gentle in his eyes. “When I die, you stay away from my funeral.”

“Deal,” Y/N chuckles.

Druig turns the bracelet on his wrist and activates it as it spins and so do Sersi's, Ikaris’s, and Makkari’s. Sersi, Ikaris, and Makkari float in the air as their energy is transferred to Druig and so is everyone else's. The power of all Eternals combined into one. It's an incredible sight. Druig focuses on putting Tiamut to sleep and it works. The active volcano begins to quiet down as the lava recedes back into the volcano. Y/N is so invested in what’s happening with the volcano that he doesn't see the humanity-Deviant charging towards him until he feels it slam a cosmic fist into his body. Y/N flies back and rolls on the ground, wondering what the hell just hit him. The young Avenger looks up and sees it’s the Deviant. The creature’s tendrils shootout and latch onto Druig, absorbing his power. It bites on Druig’s neck, who groans as his energy is being drained and in pain.

“No!” Y/N cries as he runs at the Deviant and two go rolling on the ground as Y/N slams into him. The others begin to awaken from their broken connection as Makkari notices Druig on the ground and rushes to him. Ikaris and Sersi see Y/N fighting the head Deviant as the creature latches its tentacles on Y/N. Wrapping around his arms and legs, making it impossible to move. Y/N struggles to break free. Ikaris flies forward and slams into the Deviant as he flies them up into the air, punches thrown back and forth as the two struggle against each other, as they turn down into a nosedive, heading towards the ground.

“Ikaris!” Y/N calls looking up at them falling towards the ground, near the volcano. He runs after them, keeping his eyes on the sky and follows over to the place that they landed at. Y/N looks down at the crater they made, but there's no sign of Ikaris. Y/N scans the area and sees there's a cave. The sound of fighting, optical blasts, grunting, and screaming can be heard, echoing through the walls of the cave. Then there's silence. Y/N rushes over and just stops at the entrance of the cave. He peers into the dark cave.

“Iceberg! Are you okay?” Y/N calls out as his voice echoes. No answer. Y/N is about to walk inside when something slams into him and pushes him back. Y/N realized its laser vision. Ikaris comes out of the cave, eyes glowing gold as he looks at Y/N and blasts him again. Y/N is pushed back as his body takes in the cosmic energy. Y/N’s eyes flash blue as he creates a shield, blocking the attack. “Iceberg? What are you doing?”

The Deviant comes out of the cave and looks at Y/N with an eerie smile on its face. “That's enough, Ikaris. For now.” Ikaris obeyed like a good dog and stopped his attack on Y/N.

“What did you do to him?” Y/N demands.

The Deviant smiled again. “I've done nothing but show Ikaris, who’s truly in charge here.”

“You’re controlling him?” Y/N asked.

“Yes, I am. The most powerful Eternal at my beckoned call,” the Deviant said, sounding like Pennywise the Dancing Clown. “I wanted to control all their minds, but I only took enough energy to control one Eternal.”

“Why are you doing this?” Y/N said. “The world is about to end and we almost stopped it until you ruined it.”

“I was trapped in ice for centuries as your boyfriend and his fellow Eternals killed my kind. I shall have retribution for their sins. They’ll learn what it’s like to be hunted down like wild animals. You won't stop me, Y/N.”

“Wanna bet?” Y/N asked, a red orb in his hand.

“Now, now, no need for that. Let's have a civilized chat. You may call me Kro.”

“I prefer to call you Pennywise.”

“I like you. You have spirit.” Kro turned to Ikaris. “Ikaris, kill your fellow Eternals, starting with the one who’s power I just absorbed. Don’t stop until they’re all dead.” Ikaris nodded and flew in the direction of Druig and the others.

“I’m not gonna let you hurt anyone else,” Y/N said.

“Oh, it’s not me that humanity should fear,” Kro said. “They should fear you and your sister, Wanda. Harbingers of Chaos.”

“How did you know—”

“—I know many things about you, Y/N. I absorbed your energy as well, remember?” Kro looked at Y/N eyes slightly red. “You are part mind singularity. And something else entirely, but still dangerous.”

“Want me to show you just how dangerous I can be?” Y/N asked.

“You and I are a lot alike, Y/N,” Kro said.

“I am nothing like you,” Y/N protested.

“But you are. Whether you want to admit it or not, you and I take power from those undeserving of it. Just like your friends Ajak, Gilgamesh, and Druig.”

“I don’t kill those I absorb energy from. You see, the difference between you and me is that you kill them on purpose,” Y/N said.

“Survival of the fittest.”

“Yeah, well, this time. I’m the apex predator. You're the prey,” Y/N’s hands glowed.

“We shall see about that.” Kro lifted a hand and a red ball of energy came out of it as he pulled Y/N towards him with telekinesis. The Deviant clasped his tendrils onto Y/N’s body and absorbed the energy inside his body.

“Yes! I want all of it, Y/N!” Kro began to glow with Y/N’s power. The young Maximoff could feel his powers being siphoned away from him. Y/N glanced up and saw the Deviant growing and changing with his powers. If he didn't do something, then Kro would be too powerful to stop. Y/N could feel that spark of his power inside himself. The part of himself he would never use, but needed at this moment. He latched onto it. He looked at Kro. “You want my power? Take it! I don't want it.” He poured out everything he had into this effort as Kro relished in his newly acquired powers. “There's more. I want it all.”

“Be careful what you wish for, Kro. You just might get it,” Y/N said as his eyes flashed red as he held out his hands and used his powers, and pulled back the energy Kro stole from him. Kro groaned as all the energy he had just absorbed was taken from him. Y/N used his telekinesis and freed himself from Kro’s tentacles.

The leader of the Deviants looked at Y/N, shocked. “How did you do that?”

“It's my power, Pennywise. Whether I want it or not, it's mine and I won't let you use it to hurt anyone,” Y/N used the energy he took back and concentrated it into a blast of power as he blasted Kro back and onto the floor. Kro groaned from the blast as he looked up as Y/N walked towards him, looking down. “Don't worry, Kro. I won't kill you. That's reserved for someone else.”

With that said, Y/N speeded off after Ikaris and the others as he arrived just in time to see Ikaris grab Druig from the ground by his neck. “I should’ve done this five centuries ago.” He lifted them both in the air as he let Druig go and blasted him with his optical vision to the ground below them. Makkari let out a wail as Druig hit the ground and groaned from the blasts being buried underneath the ground. Ikaris turned and set his sights on the Domo. He flew towards it.

“Iceberg, no!” Y/N cried out as Ikaris’s lasers tore through the underside of the ship, ripping through it easily. He blasted the top part as well as the ship began to fall down and headed towards the ground of the volcano. Sersi held out her hands defensively at the oncoming ship. Makkari used her speed to move her out of the way as Y/N held out his hands in front of him as the ship slammed into him, as he tried to slow it down. Dirt was flying everywhere as Y/N’s feet dug into the dirt of the ashy ground. Y/N grunted as he pushed back, trying to put the Domo to a stop.

When the ship finally stopped, Y/N sighed with relief as Makkari ran inside the Domo and brought everyone out. One by one. Ikaris floated down to the ground. “Druig’s gone. It’s over.”

“Boss, what are you doing?” Kingo asked.

“Ikaris attacked Druig,” Sersi said.

“Hold on Sersi, it wasn't his fault—”

Y/N was interrupted from explaining as Makkari glared at Ikaris and super sped towards him and began to knock him into some rocks. “Makkari, stop!” Y/N chased after them. Ikaris tried to blast her as she slammed him into a wall, pushing his head against it. Ikaris grabbed her arm and threw her off him. Just as she was about to run at him again, Y/N got in between them. He looked at the speedster Eternal and signed to her what was going on. “Ikaris is being mind-controlled by a Deviant. Take Ajak and Kingo and find Druig. Tell Sersi and Phastos to find another way to stop the Emergence. The Deviant is on the west side of the volcano. Thena and Gilgamesh will be happy about that. Bring Sprite to me.”

Makkari nodded and ran back to the others to explain everything Y/N had just told her. Y/N turned to his boyfriend, who glared at him. His blue eyes that Y/N loved so much looked so cold and unfeeling at the moment. “Iceberg. It’s me. It’s Y/N. You don’t have to do this.”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to,” Ikaris said.

“You don’t want to hurt your family. Or me,” Y/N said.

“You’re wrong about that one, Y/N. I do want to hurt you.” Ikaris rose in the air, eyes glowing as he flew towards Y/N. Y/N charged forward as well. Ikaris came down as Y/N dodged his crashing fist. The ground cracked underneath it. He turned to Y/N and attacked him as the younger man tried to block and dodge his attacks. Y/N avoided most of the attacks, but Ikaris got a good hit and punched him in the face. Y/N staggered back as Ikaris grabbed him by the throat. Y/N groaned as Ikaris’s hand closed around his throat. He slammed his fist down on Ikaris’s arm as he let go of Y/N and the young hero slammed his fist into Ikaris’s chest, pushing him back. Ikaris smirked at Y/N. “That's it, Y/N. Come on.” He grabbed Y/N and slammed him against the rocky wall behind them. “Let go, Y/N. Show me what you can really do.”

Everything inside Y/N was urging him to fight back. To shove Ikaris off him and show him what he could really do, but he wouldn't do it. He wasn't going to lose control or hurt Ikaris.

“Don't hold back. Give me all that you have.”

“No. I won't do it,” Y/N said.

“Do it!”

“No, I won’t. I won’t hurt you, Ikaris.”

“Fine, I'll just make you then,” Ikaris said as he rained punches down on Y/N. Y/N tried to hold back as everything in his body was telling to let go. Give into his power. Defend himself. “Stop.” Y/N pleaded. Ikaris wasn’t listening to him as he kept up his attack. Y/N’s eyes flashed red as his voice boomed. “ENOUGH!” Y/N pushed Ikaris back with a telekinetic blast, sending the Eternal sprawling to ground, hard. When Y/N realized what he did; he was horrified. “Ikaris! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to—”

That's when the Volcano erupted.

….

Lava flowed from the sides of the volcano as a debris called tephra rained from the skies. The Eternals prepared to defend themselves. Thena cut through a molten rock with her sword. Phastos created some weapons and blasted the rocks. Ajak, Sprite, and Makkari stood behind Kingo and Gilgamesh as they blasted and punched the falling debris. Sersi turned a rock into some birds. Sersi looked at the ground and then at the volcano. She had to do something. She had to try and stop this. “We do as Y/N said.” She begins walking towards the volcano.

“Phastos. I have to try and stop this. I need to get closer to Tiamut,” she said. Phastos put a hand on her shoulder. “Let's go. I've got you.” They ran towards the volcano.

Gilgamesh looked at Thena. “Y/N said the Deviant is in a cave on the west side of the volcano. What do you say, Thena?”

Thena smiled as she formed a spear and shield. “Let's go hunting then.”

Ajak looked at Makkari as she signed to her. “Take Sprite to Y/N and come back and we'll find Druig. Together.” Makkari nodded as she grabbed a hold of Sprite and super sped her to Y/N and Ikaris, then came back to get Ajak and Kingo and ran them in the direction Druig crashed in.

Ikaris blasted the incoming rocks with his lasers as Y/N punched them or moved them out of the way. Y/N looked at Ikaris. “You have to stop, Iceberg. If you don't, then everyone on this planet will die.”

“If this world ends so a Celestial can rise, then I support Arishem’s design,” Ikaris said.

“This isn't you talking. It's the Deviant.”

“Y/N!” the Avenger turned to see Sprite standing there. Ikaris looked at Sprite as well and smiled. It was a manic one. “Sprite, so glad you could join the party. I wanted to kill Phastos next, but you'll do.” Ikaris fires his optical beams at her as Y/N ran in front of her and put up a shield. Both opposing forces pushed back and forth.

“How do we break the Deviant’s hold on Ikaris?” Sprite asked.

“If Gilgamesh and Thena can kill it first, then Ikaris will be free, but if they can't in time, we have to find another way until they do,” Y/N said. “I have an idea, Sprite. It's a crazy one, but it just might work.”

“What is it?”

Ikaris stopped his attack as Y/N ran up to him and turned back to Sprite as a wave of dirt blinded Ikaris for a moment. Y/N told Sprite about his plan as she looked at him shocked.

Ikaris glared at them when the dirt had cleared. “I'm going to enjoy killing you both.”

Y/N ran towards Ikaris, fist raised as he threw a punch. A punch Y/N knew he would catch. Ikaris caught Y/N’s fist with his palm. He pushed his palm down on Y/N’s fist, cracking his knuckles as he did. Ikaris turned Y/N around and put him in a headlock.

Thena and Gilgamesh walked into the cave Y/N said, near the ocean. It was really quiet inside. The only sounds they could hear were their breathing and the sound of their feet walking on the ground and the sound of the wind. Thena had her weapons raised, ready to fight. Gilgamesh looked at her and smiled. “Remember when we journeyed with Jason and the Argonauts?”

“I remember it well. The Deviants that looked like harpies and one was a giant Kraken.”

“Good times,” Gilgamesh chuckles. He looked at Thena. “Stay here. Say it.”

“Not this time, old friend,” Thena said.

That’s when they heard an eerie voice whisper. “Thena.” The warrior Eternal looked around, trying to find the source of the voice. “Oh, you’ve changed. You’re broken. Damaged. Useless. You can’t protect any of them.”

“Come out and show yourself, you bastard!” Gilgamesh said.

“Oh, Gilgamesh. You’re still alive? Looks like when I kill again, this time I’ll make sure it sticks, Kro said.

Thena sensed the Deviant as she formed a shield, just as Kro tried to punch Gilgamesh with his own cosmic fist. She let out a yell as she swiped at the Deviant with her sword as Gilgamesh attacked with his fists.

“Iceberg, I know you’re in there,” Y/N said as Ikaris’s arm drew tighter around his neck. The other one held his head in place. He finally understood the vision he had earlier today. It wasn’t about finding out how to activate the Uni-Mind. It was to warn Y/N about Ikaris. His vision had shown Ikaris from another universe betraying his friends. And his Ikaris from this universe, like it not, had done the same thing. The only difference was that Ikaris wasn’t doing this of his own free will. This was all Kro’s fault.

Almost like Ikaris was reading his mind; the Eternal leaned down and whispered harshly in Y/N’s ear. “When are you going to realize that this is all me, Y/N? You saw that vision of my counterpart. I’m just like him.”

“You’re nothing like him, Iceberg—”

“—Stop calling me that stupid nickname!” Ikaris roared. “I’ve always hated that nickname. And truth be told, Y/N. I hate you too.”

“You’re lying,” Y/N gasped out as a few tears slid down his face. Ikaris smirked as he could hear Y/N’s soft sobs and his body shook beneath him. “Am I? My life was perfect until you came and messed it all up, but now it doesn’t matter because I’m finally going to be rid of you. Once and for all.”

“Do what you want to me, but please don’t hurt the others, Ikaris. If you wanna hurt somebody, hurt me,” Y/N said.

“Oh, don’t worry, Y/N. I’m gonna kill them nice and slow. Too bad you won’t be around to see it,” Ikaris said.

“No matter what happens, Ikaris. Know that I’ll always love you. No matter what.”

“I’ll tell you a secret, Ducking,” Ikaris mocked the nickname he gave Y/N. “I never loved you. You were just a means to an end. I had an itch, and you scratched it,” Ikaris harshly said to the young Avenger. “I can't believe I wanted to ask you to marry me. It was always and always will be, Sersi.” With that said Ikaris’s eyes flashed gold as he used all his strength and snapped Y/N’s neck. A harsh boom echoed on the volcano as Y/N’s body fell to the ashy ground with a thud.

For a moment, all was quiet as Ikaris was breathing harshly. His eyes were still gold until they returned to their crystal blues. He looked down at Y/N’s unmoving body. It was done. Y/N Maximoff was dead, and Ikaris didn’t care one bit.

[justreadingfics]

It’s a Deal (Ch. 15-Final)

Chapter Summary: THE END.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 6.2k

Warnings: I don’t wanna spoil anything, but if you’ve read the story so far and handled well with everything, there’s nothing to be worried about. If there’s anything you definetely can read and want to check if you’re safe, feel free to ask me about it beforehand. 

A/N 1: Thank you Suz, @bucky-the-thigh-slayer​ for having my back for these last chapters. Love you. The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated. More notes at the end of the chapter.

 It’s a funny feeling to have to knock on the door which you’ve spent so long mindlessly walking right through after opening it with your own key. Yeah, it’s funny… but also a surprisingly liberating and exciting sensation. It’s just like a feeling of meeting someone new living inside you. Or someone you just didn’t know was already there, waiting for you to acknowledge them. But a great deal of what you were and had just feels foreign to you now. Like that door to your place, except this isn’t your place anymore, so you knock on the wood softly and wait to be allowed to come in.

You don’t have to wait long as you’ve barely knocked and the door is opened, with Eddie appearing in front of you.

“Hi, you’re back,” he lets out a breathy smile, a tad of nervousness on his voice.

“Hi…” you tighten your lips, not knowing how to react to the excited “you’re back” that has just blurted out of his lips. You want things with Eddie to go as smoothly as possible and you definitely don’t want another argument. Not now when you’re so eager to just do what you have to do there and then go find Bucky, “Ahm…I’ve just come back from the mission and checked in to a hotel, I need to grab some of my stuff. If you don’t mind.”

“Oh…” disappointment hardens his face as his chin lifts up, “Alright. Come in,” he nods, stepping aside.

With tentative moves, you enter your former home before Eddie shuts the door behind him, “Ahm…Can you believe I forgot my phone?” You chuckle lightly, nodding at the device on the center table in the living room, “I had to use the company’s one the entire time.” You comment, reaching over for your phone and attaching it to the Stark mobile battery charger.

As Eddie leans back against the door, you ignore the intensive and unsettling stare he holds on you while your phone’s screen lights up. You rush to check your missed calls and your heart skips a beat when you find out several of them from Bucky. Did you really have to be so stupid about forgetting your phone there?

Your eyes lift from your phone to Eddie for a moment while a thought crosses your mind… Did he see those calls? Could he have answered one of them? No… Eddie and you might not be on the best of terms right now, but you know his character, he wouldn’t…

“Your boy toy wouldn’t stop calling,” he says, his voice as bitter as his words, “Until he decided to drop by.”

“What?” You barely whisper as your heart rushes in your chest. “Bucky?”

Eddie scoffs, uncrossing his arms and leaning away from the door, “Yeah… Bucky…Bucky Soft Tongue Barnes,” he says the name you have in your contacts for Bucky in a mocking tone, “Do you have another boy toy by any chance? Dear God, Y/N…”

You register the vicious mockery coming from him, but you don’t even care while your eyes roam around the room, spotting all of the boxes with Eddie’s stuff next to your stuff, “What did he want?” You ask, your breathing becoming erratic at the possible outcomes from that encounter.

“The fuck I know.” He shrugs, walking over you, “He didn’t stay long.”

“What did you tell him, Eddie?” Your head tilts while you ask in an almost defeated tone, fingers gripping your phone hard.

His face hardens even more now that he’s right in front of you, “I told him the truth, that this is our home.” He gestures around before lunging at you and grabbing your arm, pulling you close to him, “And that what you and I have isn’t just a shitty deal with a boy toy that can be destroyed by a small and unimportant glitch.” He spits.

Your vision turns into a blur while a thick lump of pure anger lodges in your throat. You harshly pull your arm and, expressing a strength you didn’t even know you had, you push him, making him trip backwards, “Fuck you, Eddie.” You push him again, this time even stronger, making his ass fall to the ground, staring up at you with big and incredulous eyes that makes you anger even bigger, “Fuck you, I thought we could’ve salvage something of our relationship, become respectful with each other at least, for our history’s sake,” you scoff pointing down at him, ”But I see now there’s just no fucking point.” You shake your head while your teeth clench.

As you move to step past him, he swiftly stands up and grabs your elbow again. “Y/n, please… don’t go. We can talk-”

“Fuck off, Eddie.” You shake your arm away, untangling it from his hold once and for all, “I have no time to waste talking to you.” You hurriedly move towards the way out, but before you leave the place, you turn back to him, “And just so you know, he’s not my boy toy, or a shitty deal, he’s the fucking love of my life.” You state, slamming the door on your way out.  

~~~

“Goddammit, Bucky, is it too much to ask for you to wait for us, you’re being too careless,” Steve chastises through the comms.

“I told you… we should’ve brought Sam.” Nat’s voice comes to his ears.

“Fuck off, Romanoff.  And you, too, Punk. You’re the last person who can say anything about being careless on missions.” Bucky hisses, being way ahead of his partners in exploring the alleged facility they are supposed to turn down from some assholes, A.I.M is what they called themselves. The third facility from that mission. Gun machine pointed ahead, he kicked open another door, finding nothing in the room again, “Besides, this place is dead, that was probably a false lead.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Nat, the receiver of the lead, scoffs, “And you would know that if you had stayed for briefing before jumping out of the quinjet in your bike, like fucking Mad Max.”

“Bucky!”

The loud voice on his ears, not Nat’s voice and definitely not Steve’s, makes him halt at once before he can kick open the next door.

“Y/N?” He frowns, not trusting his ears.

“Oh, shit.” Now, that’s definitely Steve and Nat talking in unison.

“Bucky, thank God. Finally. I need to talk to you.”

Bucky notices the relief but also the urgency in your voice. It doesn’t help him at all to figure out what the hell it’s happening, but he registers his heart racing by listening to your voice.

“Y/N?” He repeats himself, “What the hell? Where are you? Are you ok?” The thought that maybe some way you ended up as a hostage in that mission brings a lump to his stomach and his heart beats even faster.

“Yes, I’m mean, no… not really,” you speak quickly, “I’m safe, but I need to talk to you. I’m heading to the safe house designated for this mission right now. I’m gonna wait for you there.”

“What?” Bucky’s mind races trying to understand what the hell it’s happening. “I can’t… I-I have nothing to talk to you about.” He steadies his voice when he feels it faltering.   

He hears a scoff that he knows it’s Nat’s, but he says nothing, ignoring the nosey fuckers.

“Bucky… please,” you plead, the desperation present in your tone, “You have no idea how many codes I had to break find you and to get here.”

Fuck…

“You’re having a hard on right now, aren’t you?” Nat asks, breaking through the silence with amusement on her voice.

“He always had a weakness for the smart ones.” Steve comments. Whispering. Like that would help the jerk to remain unnoticed.

“You two stay fucking quiet over there,” Bucky chastises – even though neither of them were lying - while he listens to you clearing your throat, “What do you need to talk about?” He addresses you again, a bit too harshly, already regretting that reaction, but allowing the little bit of spite inside his heart to lead him on, “Is your fiancé there with you?” He clenches his teeth, “Y/N listen, I don’t want explanations, or pity-“

“Fiancé?” You practically screech into his ears, “Pity? Hell, no. It’s not what you’re thinking. Not at all. Eddie lied to you. That’s why I’m here, we need… we need to talk. There’s so much I need to say to you.”

“Like what?” Bucky whispers, heart jumping inside his chest. The fucker lied to him? Does that mean…

“Like I love you.” You burst out, punching the air out of his lungs, “Like I fucking fell in love with you and now you’re thinking I don’t, and I can’t wait another second to tell you everything I’m feeling.”

“What?” He checks, once again in barely a whisper, once again not trusting his ears.

“I love you, ok? I love you, Bucky.” You repeat, trying to speak with a calmer tone, but uneasiness still sweeps into your words.

Silence settles on his comms. No more words from you or from the snooping couple he knows is still there, listening to everything, as well. All he can listen to is his heart, frantically pounding against his chest.

“Meet you at the safe house?” You tentatively ask after a long moment of stillness.

That’s the precise moment the door in front of Bucky opens and he meets with a room full of armed assholes.

“I’ll be there in 15.” He states firmly, pointing his gun ahead.

In precisely seven minutes he has almost the entire room on the floor. He’s about to break the last man standing’s arm when Nat and Steve come running into the room.  

“Fucking hell,” Nat exclaims, taking in the place.

“We’ll take it from here, now you go to that goddamn safe house,” Steve says with a teary beam – the big softie - and points to the way out.

Like hell Bucky would waste another second.

~~~

He’s been inside the place for several minutes already, which seems like an eternity, legs quivering while he sits on the first dusted armchair he’s seen, he’s biting on his nails when he hears the knock on the door.

Not two seconds and he has the door opened, meeting with the sight of you. Panting and disheveled and perfect. And he freezes. Not one muscle inside him moves. Except for his stupid mouth.

“You love me,” he says, spontaneously, the words mindlessly coming out of his lips like in a dream.

You’re visibly taken aback at the line as you gasp and your eyes widen a fraction.

Shit… What the hell is wrong with him? He swiftly clears his throat, “Ahm, hi,” he manages to say, praying that somehow, he could erase that first sentence.

“Hi,” you answer, still clearly nervous, fidgeting with your fingers, but not taking your anxious eyes away from him, until you take in a harsh breath, “Yes, yes, I love you,” you burst out, while you suddenly step inside the place, walking past him, “I’ve been so stupid, but I was confused,” you drop your purse on the floor and, gesticulating and shaking your head, continue, “I-I thought I wasn’t sure about you, and then I was afraid I was gonna hurt you, but ended up hurting you anyway. God, I wanna kill Eddie, but no, I’m not here to talk about him,” you pace around, your trembling hands all over the place.

While you keep your rumbling confession, you miss Bucky slowly making his way to you.

“I’m here to talk about us, I mean… if you still feel how you told me you felt, I mean… after what Eddie told you, I don’t know if you still feel the same way, but I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I had work to do, and I forgot my stupid phone, I-”

You sulk in a breath when Bucky is right in front of you. Staring intently into your eyes.  You inhale some needed air, slowly, “I love you,” you say again, “I had no idea things would go this way, I didn’t even know that love could feel like this, so…” you search for the word taking another breath, “so damn wonderful. But it does, and I love you, I do. So much. I had a whole speech prepared, but that’s it. I love you.” You shrug.

Still unable to move a muscle or utter a word, Bucky keeps staring at you, like he’s in some sort of trance.

“Ahm…” You gulp, “Don’t you wanna maybe, ahm, say something?” Your voice falters, before you bite your lower lip, as if it’s getting hard for you to breathe.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky finally speaks, and, with the word choice, he can see the smile that threatens to curl your lips, but just don’t get through because you’re still clearly too nervous to allow yourself to smile, “I love hearing you talk.” He steps closer, seriousness all over his voice, “I could listen to you all day, all my life, but right now, I really want to kiss you, ok?”

That smile fully curls your lips now and Bucky smiles, too, but it’s short lived and replaced by a “humpf” as you jump on him and crash your lips on his.

He catches you and the craving you two feel for each other are expressed in the urgency of the kiss. Fingers grasp his locks. While you pull him by the neck, he pulls you by the waist, fireworks on his brain and his guts, pure longing for the proximity of his girl. His love.

Having you like that, kissing you, holding you, knowing how you feel about him is dazzling, mind-blowing, his senses falter and next thing he knows he’s sitting on the armchair with you across his lap.

Smiles surge through the kiss before you part from his lips, only to pepper kisses all over his face… neck… lips again, “I love you, I love you,” you repeat like a mantra between kisses, holding him with a strength he didn’t even know you possessed.

“God… sweetheart… I love you. You have no idea how much. You can never hurt me, don’t ever say that again. I love you,” he breathes, you thinking that you had hurt doesn’t go unnoticed by him, if only you could see how his poor heart is melting inside his chest with all the love he’s feeling and receiving from you.

His breath hitches when your teeth graze his neck, “I missed you…” You whisper, your voice becoming dangerously low while your hand wanders through his thigh, “And I missed this.” Your hand meets his crotch, caressing the bulge forming there, making Bucky’s brain short-circuit, “You’re so gonna love make up sex… I believe I have a lot of making up to do with Little Bucky.” You bite his earlobe, putting a bit of more friction over his bulge.

“Fuck… shit…” Bucky curses, “I want it so damn much, sweetheart, you have no idea how much, but, ahm…” He clears his throat, “Not in front of the baby.”

You lean back and frown at him, “Huh?”

Bucky wiggles his eyebrows and nods behind you.

You follow his gaze and there is Alpine. Seated on the carpet. Staring up at them, in all her confident and glorious demeanor.  

“Oh.” You swiftly remove your hands from his pants. Suppressing a laugh in your lips, you turn to Bucky again, “What is Alpine doing here in the safe house from your very Avengey mission?”

“Yeah…” Bucky tickles his tongue before tightening his lips, holding you on his lap by your waist, “You know… she just can’t leave my side anymore. “

“Of course,” you put on a mocking frowning expression, nodding your head, “She is the one who can’t leave your side, yeah…” You chuckle.

He’s got a guilty smile on his lips, but before he can offer you a comeback, a meow catches your attention before Alpine jumps on your lap.

Bucky feels the tension on your body by the surprise as you stare down at the white cat. 

“Bucky… Bucky…” you barely whisper, not moving your body in the slightest, while Alpine sniffs your hand before curling down comfortably on your lap.

“Oh my God,” You breathe and aim a disbelieved, yet incredibly satisfied smile at Bucky, still not moving a muscle as if you would break the spell if you did.

“I told her she would love you,” Bucky shrugs, feeling no surprise at all. He removes the arm from around your belly to allow Alpine to accommodate herself better.

“Aww, Bucky,” you coo, looking down and scratching behind Alpine’s ear, whose eyes shut at the petting, “You’re one protective little girl, aren’t you?” You address her, before turning to Bucky again, “I bet she knows I’m sure about you now, and there’s nothing she needs to worry about.”

“Is that so?” Bucky grins.

“That's so.” You nod, leaning over to place a kiss on his cheek, “Although, I gotta be honest…” You say, leaning back, with a smirk, “I thought it would be harder to win you over now.”

“Sweetheart…” Bucky puffs with a scorning expression, shaking his head, “The sooner you learn this the better: I’m a sucker for you.”

Your smile widens and you lean in to kiss him, but something catches your eyes behind his shoulder, “Ahm… is that my perfume?” You frown at the familiar bottle peeking out of his backpack thrown on the floor behind him.

Bucky doesn’t even look behind him, knowing he’s just been caught while you look back at him with amusement growing in your expression.

“Bucky Barnes, did you buy my perfume?” You ask with a gleeful voice.

Well, he better might as well use his armory, too, and, using the same tone of yours, he asks, “Is my name on your phone “Bucky Soft Tongue Barnes?”

You gasp, “How do you…” you start to ask, but doesn’t need to finish as you squint, “Nat…” You say in defeat.

Bucky laughs, while absentmindedly running a hand over Alpine’s back on your lap. “Face it. We’re a couple of creeps, sweetheart.”

You smile sweetly at him, “Yeah… But you’re my creep.” You lean over and peck his lips.

The sound of the door being burst open makes you yelp and almost fall from Bucky’s lap. He catches you steadily, while you hold Alpine protectively.

“Hello, lovebirds.” Nat has a smug smile on her face.

“Jesus, when will this ever stop?” Bucky glares at her, while you try to recover your breath.

“This is getting ridiculous,” you add, not bothered to leave your position on Bucky’s lap.

“Are they decent?” Steve’s voice is heard from the outside.

“Physically, yes. Morally? Never.” Nat answers, her smirk widening while she walks inside.

Steve then comes behind her, with a proud and excited smile on his lips.

“I knew this thing would work out,” Nat says, finger waving between you two.

You and Bucky look at each other and scoff, before you turn to her, “No, you didn’t. You were fucking terrified.”

Like a perfect eight-year-old and not the greatest spy on earth, Nat crosses her arms and, squinting, shows off her tongue at you.

And that’s when Alpine, still in your arms after the scare Nat gave you, hisses at her in her very peculiar and protective way. While Nat raises an eyebrow at her, your jaw drops and you exchange excited looks with Bucky before you smugly pet the cat’s head and tell her what a good girl she is.

Bucky decides, right then and there, having his two girls in his arms, that he’s the happiest bastard on the planet.

~~~

He is the one who knocks on the door while he holds your hand tightly.  Bucky looks at you and smiles. When you look and smile back at him, he wonders if his heart would ever stop altogether at that sight, cause it sure feels like it every single time.

“Hey, oh-“ Eddie gulps down his words when he sees you at his door along with Bucky.

He obviously wasn’t expecting Bucky to be there, too, and it brings a smirk to Bucky’s lips, his fingers intertwined with yours.  

“Can I get my stuff now?” You ask and the sheer disdain in your voice could be enough to make Bucky hard right then and there, but he focuses on the glare on his face at the stupid short asshole in front of him.

Eddie’s gaze lifts from the joined hands before he looks at you and nods, an astonished expression on his face.

The scowl on your expression eases when you look back at Bucky with a smile, “Wait for me?”

“Sure sweetheart, call my name if you need me.” He smiles back before you lean in and peck his lips in front of Eddie.

Oh… his mischievous girl.

Without sparing one glance at the man on the other side of the door, you walk past him towards your former bedroom.

At the very same second Eddie makes a move to go after you, his shoulder is swiftly pushed against the doorframe by a metal hand.

“I know for a fact I can smash your head using only one of these,” Bucky waves his metal fingers in front of Eddie’s face, “That’s the reason why I haven’t laid them on you, yet, cause you know… I’m a good guy and stuff…but I’m willing to forget all about that and do it anyway if you take another step towards her,” Bucky threatens through his clenched teeth, “Am I clear?”

“Y-yes,” Eddie stammers, widen eyes on the metal hand.

“Now you go and sit on that pretty couch… which I know quite well, by the way,” a wicked smirk curls his lips, before the deadly glare shifts Bucky’s face again “And you wait there until we leave.”

When Bucky lets go of Eddie’s shoulder, the guy rushes to the sofa and stays there. Completely quiet and still, avoiding Bucky’s unyielding stare on him.

Minutes after, Bucky catches your packed bags for you and you walk away hand in hand without looking back.  

~~~

As he takes quick steps to his place, Bucky can’t believe he’s finally going to see you again. Ever since you two finally set things up, work has been a complete bitch. He’s been called to another emergency mission, from which he has returned this morning, but then has been stuck in a conference room ever since. Fucking Nick Fury…As for you, you also had to work on the reports of your mission with Thor, and not even by phone you two have been able to talk much.

To be honest, it’s been only a couple of days, but now that he knows you love him back, he can’t wait to have you in his arms… and in some other parts of his body that’s been aching for you, too.

Thank God for Tony Stark, who just couldn’t cope with you staying at a hotel and, in a matter of hours, there was an apartment in the Tower waiting for you. Now that he’s only a few floors away, he plans on taking a quick shower and running straight to you.

His pace halts once he’s at his door. He frowns. Something’s out of place. Positioning his flesh hand over the gun on his thigh holster, he slowly turns down the knob of his door.

“Please, don’t shoot me.”

The sweetest of sounds, the sound of your voice makes him let out a relieved sigh right before a smile crosses his lips. He moves his hand away from his gun to open the door fully. The sight he catches when he does, takes his breath away all over again.

The lights are dim, only scented candles illuminate the place while rose petals pave the way from the door. There’s a small round table right there in the adjacent dining room, set with fine dishes and glasses and decorated with a crystal vase and fresh flowers.

Beautiful.

But not as beautiful as you. Standing there in his living room, wearing a short lace black dress with thin shoulder straps and a V-neck that makes his mouth water. You won’t be wearing that much longer, that much he knows as his pants become tighter.

He doesn’t realize for how long he’s been staring at you, until you move your gaze away for a second, biting your lips and scratching the back of your ear, “Hi,” you whisper and Bucky can see your shoulders getting a bit tense, “Welcome to our first date.” You give him a cringing smile and lift your arms, gesturing for him to see around the place, “Hope it’s not too much, though… I did spend a few hours fixing this up, Alpine was a doll and has been here keeping me company until she got bored and went to take a nap, I guess. I did not have time to cook but Tony offered his personal chef services and all we need is to call-”

After a few long steps he shuts your sweet nervous rambling by pressing his lips on yours. He pours all his love into the gesture and hopes he can erase whatever vestige of doubt and insecurity in that pretty mind of yours.

“I was dying to see you, sweetheart,” he says, breathing hard, just as you do, when he parts away, keeping both his hands on your cheeks, while you circle your arms around his waist. “This is… “ He looks around, “Incredible… You… shit… you look fucking sexy.” He groans, giving your body a once over, which makes you chuckle, “I’m only sorry you beat me to plan our first date. I should be the one to make all of this for you,” he says, tenderly brushing his thumbs on your cheeks.

You smile at him and tilt your head to place a kiss on his hand while one of yours starts drifting down his chest, “I’m still in debt with Little Bucky, aren’t I?” You wink at him while your wandering hand cups his cock through his pants, making him suck in a harsh breath, “And from now on I’m going to romance the shit out of you.” Your smile turns into a mischievous smirk.

“Shit,” Bucky breathes. Smiling, he leans over and captures your lips again. Not so gentle this time, since your cheeky words and your touch only makes the fire in him burn even hotter.

His hand drops from your face to your waist and he pulls you to him before he adventures down your ass, grabbing a handful of it through your dress, which makes you whimper through the kiss.

God, he loves the little sounds you produce when he touches you like that and he’s determined to coax a bit more out of you when he dips his hand under the hem of your dress and grabs your ass without the fabric’s barrier. But he’s the one to make a strangle sound to find out you’re wearing nothing underneath it.

“Fuck.” He parts from your lips only to ravish your neck, “Can the food wait a little, sweetheart?”

“Fuck yeah… please.” You pant, still brushing your hand on his aching cock.

He drags his lips to yours again, making the kiss deep and sloppy, savoring the feel of your tongue on his, the sweet taste of your mouth. You hike up your thigh around his waist, and his hand moves from your ass to between your legs. You moan through his lips and he groans to find you wet and ready for him.

His naughty, naughty girl.

“Honey…” He breaks the kiss but keeps his finger drawing little circles on your lips, watching closely while your swollen lips part and your eyes flutter. “I promise I’m gonna take my time and properly savor you throughout this whole night, but right now?” He pants and shoves a finger inside your damp cunt, “I just can’t take any longer, I need to have you. I want you so badly, do you want me, too?” He coos, curling his fingers on the point that always makes you yelp, gaining the aimed reaction from it.

“Fuck…” You curl your arms around his neck and lean over to whisper on his ear, “Always, baby. Always… I want you to rail me.” You grind your hips on his hand, like you’re desperately trying to get off solely from that.

“Dear God, I fucking love you.” Bucky bites the crook of your neck, but removes his finger from your pussy to grab your ass again. When he makes you come for the first time that night is going to be with his cock deep inside you, not his finger.

Breathing hard, you lean back and drop your leg. You quickly start working on his uniform. Not long after, you let out a frustrated groan. “Who the hell makes those?” You frown, fumbling with the complicated stripes.

“No time to deal with that right now,” Bucky states, and with ease, he handles you, ruthlessly, just like the way he knows you love, until he has you seated on the big and fluffy armrest of his couch.

He twists your legs to the side over the cushions, “Let me see that pretty pussy,” Bucky pants, voice thick with desire, lifting your dress just enough to give him the view and the access, “Shit…” he curses under his breath when he catches an eye of your glistening folds.

While he keeps himself on his feet, he works on his belt and zipper with one hand and holds your hips with the other. He absolutely loves the way you’re looking up at him, with that gaze of yours of sheer anticipation, lust and satisfaction he always saw in your eyes, but now, there’s something more. Something else… love. Hell, if that doesn’t make him even harder for you.

“You make me so fucking hard, sweetheart,” Bucky pulls his aching cock away from his confines and without waiting another second, he bends his knees a bit to align with your position and enters you.

“Holy shit,” you both gasp in unison.

At the comforting feeling of your warm and tight cunt - fucking finally - Bucky just holds back and, encouraged by the sweet begs coming from your lips, he supports one of his knees on the cushions, holds your hips still and starts fucking you. Right there, over the armrest of his couch, you both fully clothed, but desperate for each other.

You feel so damn good around his cock, and so damn beautiful with your cheek sunk deep on the sofa, your hands holding yourself on where you can, eyes closed and lips parted, sweet and filthy sounds coming out of you.

Bucky feels his core tighter and tighter and he knows he’s not gonna last long. He’s been waiting for this for so long, so desperately. He loves you so much. He wants you so much.

He tells you that, while he shoves his cock relentlessly inside you and leans down, not resisting to pull one stripe of your dress to expose one of your breasts to him. You cry out when he grabs the soft flesh. His hand moving in the same rhythm of his hips. Hard and deep.

“Holy fuck, baby, I’m gonna come,” you announce and, as soon as you open your eyes and your gaze meets his, your cunt squeezes his cock and you cry out. Not moving your hooded eyes away from his while you soak his cock with your climax.

Bucky is done for. If there had been any doubt of how much he’s a sucker for you, now it would be completely vanished.  But, in fact, there hasn’t been any doubt about that in him for a really long time.

Having held himself back for a while now, the look on your face and you calling him “baby” are enough to make his pace become erratic and drive him to his own release.  He moans and pants through the explosion of ecstasy, shoving his hips a few more times in you and filling you up with spurs of his pleasure.

You’re still fighting to breathe when Bucky leans over and crashes his mouth on yours, giving you a bruising kiss before sliding out of you and dropping his body on the couch next to you, not without pulling you with him.

He places you on his laps and you straddle his hips. You hold him, sinking your head on his neck, breathing him in. Your body shakes with the aftershocks of the pleasure you have just shared. The best orgasm he’s ever given you, the first one after you acknowledged and shared your feelings. Feels different… better… How you missed this… missed him…

“Enjoying our first date so far?” You ask, the sound of your voice coming out raspy and still breathless.

“Couldn’t be better,” he speaks, his hot breath fanning the skin of your neck.

You hold him even tighter and then giggle when you feel the wet touch of his tongue right there on the sweet spot between your shoulder and neck. You turn with the intention to kiss him and that’s when you realize he’s still in his mission uniform and you feel the fabric of your dress clinging to your skin, sticky with sweat.

You smile at him and brush your lips on his before getting up and, pulling him by the hand, you guide him to his bathroom.

This time he helps you with the strips of his gear and takes off your dress, before you two step into the shower. Nothing sexual happens, but that shared shower it’s one of the most intimate moments of your life. You leather him and he washes your hair. You play splashing water on him, and he kisses you. You hold him and he tells you he loves you.

After the shower you should’ve come back to the dining room and ordered your food, but he takes you to his bed instead.  

You get between his legs and suck his cock, slowly, reverently, peppering sweet and small kisses all over it until you swallow his pleasure. He kisses and licks and bites every little inch of you, savoring you like he promised he would. He makes you come with his tongue right before he enters you again. Forehead to forehead, breath to breath, skin to skin.

“I love you” is whispered repeatedly between harsh breaths and long and deep thrusts. His hands and lips on your skin. Your teeth on his. With his cock in your cunt and his finger on your clit he begs to see you come, to squeeze and soak his cock and, after you do, completely out of breath, he reaches his climax, too. Like he always does, he finds pleasure by giving you yours.

Your man. Your love. Your Bucky.

He stays beside you while he kisses you, neither of you willing to break the connection, yet.

When he looks down on you, there’s something of mischief on his loving gaze and on the beautiful smile on his lips, “So…Little Y/N missed me, too, huh?”

Your eyes widen for a second and you choke on your laugh, “No.” You shake your head while he laughs, “Don’t even start. Absolutely not… But goddammit, you’re cute,” you pull him to give him a smooch on his lips and then on his nose, “Now...” you say, while he keeps the adoring gaze down on you, “I love you so much. But can we move forward with our first date and eat something?” You cringe, “I’m starving and it’s all your fault. And Little Bucky’s.” You quickly add.

His head falls back and his nose scrunches in that adorable way of his while he laughs, “Alright, let’s go… but first,” he stops you with his lips on yours when you excitedly try to get up.

The kiss is long and soft and everything you’ve ever dreamed of. The hell with food, you’re pretty sure everything you need is right there, on top of you, kissing you and loving you like that, making your heart flutter and turning your legs into jelly.

You almost whine when he breaks the kiss and rests his forehead on yours, “You know,” he whispers, “I found out that it’s not just my buddy down there who has a strict preference,” he smiles cheekily, and you can’t help but smile, too, before he puts on some playful and exaggerated drama on his voice, “Turns out, my poor old fragile heart has it, too, and I’m gonna need you to take good care of it.” He brings your hand over his chest, “Do we have a deal?”

Your smile grows even bigger, filled with love, before you give him your answer.

“Always.”

THE END.

~~~

A/N 2: There it is, guys, this was my attempt at writing some light and fun rom-com. I really hope some of you have enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It feels like I say this every time I finish a story, but I had so much fun writing it, this might be my favorite story so far. It’s definitely my favorite Bucky and I can’t part from him. That’s why I have a few oneshots planned so we can get a glimpse of their sexy adventures throughout their relationship, things that might’ve taken place during their deal, but also after what we’ve seen here in the main story.  

I can’t thank you enough for the incredible support I’ve received for this story, I feel so fortunate for having such amazing readers, who I consider as a very important part of my life. I tried to engage and interact with most of you, sorry if I ended up missing a few responses. I do read and reread the comments and asks often, though. You make my days brighter. Thank you. Love you.

[mikkomacko]

Ok thanks. What do you think about Stucky comforting reader for some reason?

A/n: Hiii. I hope this is ok! My first time writing stucky x reader but it was cool. I might just have to do an expanded Stucky fic 👀

~

It's well known throughout the Avengers that y/n is the kryptonite to every super soldier. At least she is to the two super soldiers they know, because only she can turn Steve and Bucky into overbearing boyfriends.

"Sam, do you have eyes on y/n and Nat?"

Steve grunts, kicking his attacker square in the chest and sending the man to the pavement. Bucky's follows closely behind, the former soldier slamming his own attacker into the ground so hard it cracks under his spine. Both lie there in a heap of sweat and blood.

"Sam?" Bucky asks angrily when they receive no response. Behind them, Wands and Tony shift through the rubble and debris of the two buildings that had been attacked, blown to pieces by the terrorist group in front of them. With civilian casualties high, y/n and Nat had taken up the job of evacuating everyone within the threatened area. But it's been too long since he's heard anything from the two through their comms.

"I've got sights on Nat but y/n is no where to be seen."

Another fly over from Sam, this time closer to the ground but still nothing certain on the missing Avenger. "I've got heat signatures in a damaged office building over here but I can't tell if it's her or not."

Steve and Bucky share a look, concerned for their girl as always, and begin heading over to the building.

"Romanoff you better fucking answer!" Bucky spits into his comms, boots crunching in the rubble under his feet.

A static breaks through, followed by the breathless voice of Natasha. "You're not the only one fighting terrorists Barnes," she bites back. "I cleared the west blocks, lost y/n when she went east. I'm guessing her comms are down."

"Was she evacuating the buildings?" Steve asks, approaching the block y/n is supposedly on.

"Think so. The one closest to you guys. She was worried it'd come down from the blast."

Steve and Bucky pick up the pace, relief flooding through them when a group of civilians rushes out of the building y/n was clearing.

"Is anyone still inside?" Steve asks them, while Bucky cranes his head up to look through the shattered windows. Before any of the survivors can answer, the building behind to rumble, the boom of an explosion going off cutting off whatever answer was being given.

Immediately shielding the civilians, Steve looks up in horror just in time to see the building split into two crumpled pieces, the top half collapsing into the building next to it.

~

There's a ringing in her ears, throbbing in her head and the taste of iron floods her mouth. Groaning, she lifts herself up enough to find that she's braced against a column, smoke and dust clouding her vision but she knows that something is off. The world around her has tilted, leaving the walls as the ground beneath her feet.

An explosion, she concludes, racking her brain for what she'd been doing when the bomb went off. A civilian, she remembers, the last one on the top floor, a young intern frozen in fear as battle rang out around him. Forgetting that she lost her comms in a fight earlier, she reaches for ear to call for backup. Instead, she's met with slick, warm blood and a tender skull.

Grey, the boy's name had been Grey. He'd told her during her attempt to guide him out from under his desk.

"I promise I can get you outta here Grey." She had sworn, and she intends to fulfill that. Unsteadily, she rides to her feet, balancing herself on the rubble around her.

"Grey?" She calls out, voice rough. "Grey if you're here I need a noise, a movement, something!"

She strains her eyes, searching through the mess of grey and charred black. Finally, a flash of ash ridden green, the color he'd been wearing. She watches as he rises to his knees, a gash on his forehead and blood dripping from his ears too.

Quick but careful, she makes her way through destroyed desks and crumpled walls until she's close enough to see how utterly screwed Grey is. A window. He's balanced on a cracked window, one surrounding by other empty window panes.

The boy trembles, helpless as his terrified eyes find hers. She burries her panic, doing her best to appear calm and confident.

"It's ok," she comforts, "I just need you stay very still ok? Let me come to you."

Grey nods, lip wavering in fear. Y/n takes a deep breath, hesitantly stepping onto the panel between two broken windows. When it holds her weight easily, she continues.

"Its breaking," Grey says weakly, peering down the splintering window at the street below them. Y/n doesn't get a good look, but she thinks she can make out two familiar men below. Steve and Bucky. Relief floods through her. They'll send Sam, she just needs to get Grey off that window.

"Don't look down," she instructs, "look at me. Keep your eyes on me."

He complies, tear filled eyes meeting hers again. It's a slow progress, checking the beams to find which ones she can walk on. She does her best to distract Grey, telling him of Sam and the boys below, how she knows they'll be up soon to help. Until then, he's gotta trust her.

"I do," he swears, "I trust you."

And there's relief when she gets a window away from him, prepared to quickly tug him to safety after she steadies her feet. But then the ripped half of the building is quivering, dropping a few feet down and the window is breaking before she gets enough time to grab him.

Panicked, she throws herself out of the window after him, left hand gripping the window pane while the right locks around his wrist. The pull in her shoulder is almost paralyzing as his weight comes to an abrupt stop. She's fairly certain it's dislocated or at the least something's torn, but the adrenaline in her veins keeps her grip strong.

"Y/n!"

Her feet dangle wildly, Grey squeezing her hand for dear life as he hangs 60 feet above ground. Steve and Bucky call out for her, something she doesn't quite pick up because she's too busy trying to calm Grey's hyperventilating body. He's wiggling, panicking, legs swinging in a frenzy like they're trying to find solid ground.

"Grey I need you to stop, if you keep moving I'll slip." As if proving her point, the sweat on her palm becomes slippery. He listens, for the most part, but he can't help the way his body quivers and shakes with cries.

"Sam's grounded!" Steve shouts from below, a panic in his voice she's not used to. "Hang on sweetheart, Stark is coming!"

She doesn't answer, can't answer because her muscles and tendons are screaming and burning, begging her to let go, and the fingers in Grey's hold have gone numb. A few more seconds, painfully long seconds, and the sound of the Iron Man suit floods her ears. Another brief moment of relief, one that also doesn't last because Grey has lost his grip and before she can even think of instructing to him to just hold on for one more second, she loses her grip on the boy and his scream overpowers Tony's thrusters as he falls to the pavement below.

~

Tony got her down safely. Caught her mid fall after she'd jumped after Grey in a weak attempt to save him. By the time her feet touch the ground, she's bolting, heading for the backside of the building where the body of the boy sits. The weak swing of her shoulder and the limp in her right leg slows her down, enough for Bucky to easily catch up to her and halt her. She fights his hold, desperate as he shushes and calms her.

Steve follows closely behind, assisting Bucky in taking care of their girl. Somehow, through a haze they get her to the Quinjet, both working on cleaning up her wounds during the painfully silent flight home. Y/n remains dazed and quiet as they take her to her bedroom, getting her in the shower, bandaged and dressed. Bucky is brushing out her wet hair on the edge of the bed while Steve fluffs the pillows when she finally speaks.

"I had him," she says, voice wavering. "I just needed a few more seconds. If I had held on-"

"Don't do that doll," Bucky interrupts sternly, pulling her into his lap. "don't think about the what ifs, you saved so many lives today. You did what you were supposed to."

She doesn't say anything but they know her well enough to know that she still doesn't believe them. Steve moves to sit next to them, wrapping one arm around her and one around Bucky.

"This job doesn't come without casualties sweetheart, we all know that. You stopped as many as you could and we're so proud of you for that."

His words bring her to tears, painful, heart cutting sobs that force both super soldiers to bite back their own tears. They hold her even tighter, soothing her with kisses and promises of making it better, of assuring her that it won't always hurt.

And once she's all cried out, puffy eyes and bones like cooked noodles, they tuck her into the middle of the bed, sandwiching her between their strong, warm bodies. Somewhere safe and comforting, where she can rest knowing they've got her and they won't be letting go anytime soon.

[bellesque]

Stop & Smell the Flowers (Loki x Reader)

A Loki Oneshot for the Spring Time with Loki Collab Collection on AO3. Also on my AO3.

Rating: Explicit

Words: 8.9K BIG yikes

Tags/Warnings: Sex Pollen (therefore Mildly Dub-Con), Smut, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Denial, Sex in Space, and some hints of a Praise Kink

Summary: Plant samples from Alfheim and a brooding god as your only companions in a small Quinjet sounds like a recipe for disaster, but some good things can happen in ten hours.

A/N: All I can say is... whoops, my hand slipped?

THE RIDE BACK to Earth is longer than you anticipated.

The small Quinjet is a sturdy and silent thing, the engine’s muffled hum a constant as you hurtle through space. It’s a drawn out, unceasing sound; it brings your boredom to the forefront of your consciousness and warps it into a false sense of steady calm. You might even be able to close your eyes for a second, seeing as there’s nothing but blackness before you—

“Wake up,” a voice snaps from behind your pilot chair, punctuated by a sharp snap of fingers. “You will not crash this ship.”

You straighten in your seat, unfazed by the bite in your companion’s tone. You blink a couple times, squeezing your eyes shut as you stifle a yawn.

“There’s literally nothing to crash into, Loki.”

Heavy boots thud against the metal floor of the ship until they stop by the copilot chair a few paces away from you. “You never were the vigilant type to begin with.”

This time, you sigh. “Look, if it makes you feel better, I’m turning on autopilot. If you can’t trust me, trust Stark. His tech is unparalleled. We will be fine.” You punch a button on the control panel, and the low hum of the Quinjet rises slightly in pitch. Swiveling around in your chair, you turn to face the god with raised hands. “See? No hands. All good. Course set.”

Loki stares at you, his features set in an unamused scowl, before turning on his heel to the farther side of the ship.

It takes a little more willpower than usual not to allow yourself to snap back at him, but you manage. After all, you’re both pretty tired, and he’s most likely antsy because of how long you’ve been cruising through the void of space. You’re sleepy, he’s irritable.

Still, your estimated time of arrival isn’t for another eight hours, and seeing as you’re going to be stuck with each other you might as well try to maintain some semblance of cordiality.

“So,” you begin, pushing up and out from your seat, “Alfheim was pretty.”

Loki stands by the glass window that shows you nothing but the expanse of space. His reflection is so clear that the details—like the strong slope of his nose, his aristocratic cheekbones—are unmarred.

“Yes,” he answers curtly. “Home to the Light Elves. As Stark briefed earlier, if you had been paying any attention.”

You swallow the retort, letting it fizzle out on the tip of your tongue. Stark did brief you on your mission, alright. You just wish knowing how to handle a brooding, irritated god was one of the things on Tony’s agenda.

Your mission was simple enough—collect some plants and flowers and shrubs and cuttings, he said. All the planty things. It’ll be quick, he said. Two rides through the Bifrost from Earth to Heimdall’s Observatory in Asgard, and then to Alfheim, followed by a short Quinjet ride to the nearby planet-slash-moon-thing, he said. Piece of cake, won’t take too long to get there.

He failed to mention how long it would take you to come home since you couldn’t use the Bifrost for reasons that were “none of your damn business.”

“You know, you’re not usually this much of a pain in the ass,” you find yourself saying as you stand side by side.

“And you’re not usually this mouthy,” he replies. He cocks his head at you. “Are you certain the coordinates have been set for Midgard?”

“Yes, sire,” you say, unable to keep the mocking tone from your voice at bay. “I told you. Trust me. If not me, then Stark.”

You lapse into silence, watching distant planets and stars twinkle against the dark backdrop of the void, the unending vastness pulling you into thought.

You’ve been working with the Avengers for just about a year. In this time, you’ve gotten to know everyone in the tower.

Including Loki.

He’s… quite a character, to say the least. Silent. Calculating. Not plotting his next attempt at world domination, but still, many are wary of his presence. You’ve spent enough time with him to know he’s a different Loki from the one in New York, though. You’d even go as far as to say that he’s… almost kind of good. Wreaking chaos, sure, by way of annoying the hell out of Steve and Tony especially, but… good.

And you’ll even admit to yourself, just a little, that he’s nice to be around. Not right now; no, he’s unnecessarily bitchy at the moment. But when it’s just you and him in the tower while the rest are either off-world or taking a day off outside the tower, it’s almost refreshing. His presence is companionable. When you watch a movie, his comments are genuinely witty and they make you laugh. He’s more aloof—more himself, you feel, and he allows himself to actually fucking smile.

And hell, when he does, looking at you with those green eyes and that heart-wrenching, happy smile—

You huff, squashing the blooming feeling in your chest. Pivoting on your heel, you make towards the other side of the ship: the small corner by the hatch that holds your collection of plants from today’s excursion. Maybe the weird, exotic flowers will keep you from acknowledging your tiny (but growing) crush.

“Do you have plants like this on Asgard?” you ask, hoping to inject some light into the heavy and tired air that hangs between you.

It takes Loki a second to move from his stance by the opposite window, but he ends up by your side eventually. He picks up a glass jar that houses a plant with blue, stunted leaves. “No.” He brings it up to eye level, examining it and rotating it in his hand. “The plants we’ve acquired are native to the Alfheim regions, it seems.”

“What does Stark want with them?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea.”

He sets down the jar with a dulled thunk and picks up another. The flower inside this one is pretty: curling petals with an orangey, reddish, and golden iridescence to it. It glitters in the low light of the Quinjet’s interior, and you can’t help but voice your admiration for it.

“Do you know what that one’s called?”

“No.”

“So why’d we get it?”

Loki’s eyebrows scrunch together, shifting his weight to the other foot. “Are you a child, mortal? Why must you ask such—”

You never get to hear the rest of Loki’s question; the Quinjet makes a hard, stuttering sound, almost as if it’s skidding over gravel, and the entire ship lurches forward and then sideways. The scraping sound of metal doesn’t cease as the ship continues to vibrate from the turbulence. You lose your balance, clutching at air to steady yourself, only one particularly hard jerk to the side causes you to stumble into Loki with a soft oof.

The pair of you are jostled to the floor, and the next thing you register is the distinct sound of glass shattering.

After a few seconds, the vibrations stop. Thankfully, because you were really starting to worry that dying in space was going to become an actual thing. The lights flicker before steadying and it resumes its normal hum as though it didn’t just go through the most unholy turbulence you’ve experienced. Granted, this is only your third time in space, but the unexpected collision leaves you spooked out nonetheless.

“What was that?”

It’s this moment that your mind chooses to notice that Loki’s chest has seemingly cushioned your fall, the top half of your body splayed on top of him.

Feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you hastily clamber off him. “Shit, I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t say anything, only rises to his feet and dusts off the front of his clothes. “You and I are in big trouble,” he says.

You hurry to the cockpit, which isn’t much of a cockpit considering how small the ship is compared to what Stark usually provides. A space rock just about the size of the ship lazily rolls away. “Looks like an asteroid?” you say, uncertain. “Are we caught in a belt?”

“No, it was a rogue one. The trouble I pertain to is not that, mortal. I’m afraid we’re one plant short now.”

“What?” Your head whips to the back so fast that your neck cricks, and you rush to the spot Loki points at.

Broken glass, and a flower that’s lost some of its iridescence. Some particles glitter on the metal floor, and you curse.

“There’s a spare jar in one of the overhead cabinets. Maybe we can still salvage this one.” You sigh. “What if this had some super special healing power and we just ruined it?”

“I told you not to crash this ship, and yet—”

“Shut it, Reindeer Games.” At this, you can see in your periphery how Loki’s nostrils flare just the slightest at the nickname. He hates it. Hates it because Stark uses it.

You manage to pick up the bigger pieces of broken glass without inadvertently cutting yourself and throw it into the waste bin. Loki hands you—well, more like shoves into you—another glass jar, into which you carefully place the flower. You slot it with the other plant samples and straighten up.

“There are still some smaller shards of glass around here,” you say, gesturing vaguely at the floor, “so we just need to be careful when we walk here.”

The floor shimmers in some angles: some attributed to the minute glass shards, some from the flower. Loki dips his chin in acknowledgment before resuming his perch by the window, staring out at the abyss of space as he was doing before you and he decided to look at the Alfheim plants.

A decision you’re regretting more and more with each passing minute.

You’re back in the pilot chair, scanning for any possibility of crashing into another space rock. If what you were feeling earlier was sleepiness, how you’re feeling right now is that tenfold with an extra weight of ten pounds on your head. Your eyelids are heavy and your body is beginning to feel warm. You sniffle, your nose a little congested, and a sneeze permeates the silence.

You swivel around to face Loki. The simple action of it causes your head to spin; you feel almost lightheaded, the same feeling you get when you’re sick. You steady yourself by planting your feet on the floor. “Hey. Are you feeling a little woozy?”

Loki’s eyes snap to you, concern written on his features. “Are you feeling unwell?”

“Not really. Feels like… like an allergy. From the flower.” You sneeze again. “Head’s heavy. Wanna sleep.”

“There’s a pull-out cot you can rest in.” In a flash, Loki’s helping you up, one arm around your waist. You can’t stop your eyelids from closing this time, feeling your grip on consciousness slip from you as your head lolls onto Loki’s shoulder. It’s a weird feeling. Heavy and light at the same time. You want to voice how it feels, but all that comes out is another sneeze.

“Perhaps the Alfheim flowers are a little too intense for your mortal body.”

Maybe it’s the allergies, but you swear you hear the hint of a smile in his voice. Loki drapes a blanket over you—wait, is he tucking you in?—and cards his fingers through your hair. You’re not sure if it’s real or not, but it feels nice.

“Sleep,” he says, voice distant and muddled. “I will take care of the ship.”

It doesn’t take you long to fall asleep to the Quinjet’s comforting hum.

 --

It’s hot.

Way too hot.

You blearily open your eyes, the feverish warmth that’s spread over your body the first thing you notice. The funny thing is you’re hot but you aren’t sweating. At all.

Just warm.

Excessively so.

“It’s hot,” you blurt out dumbly, sitting up on the strangely comfortable cot. The blanket falls away from you as you squint at Loki’s silhouette in the pilot chair.

The lights are a little dimmer, you think. Not as harsh and cold, blinding white too, but almost warm. You didn’t even know the ship had that feature.

Loki doesn’t answer you. You realize this a little late after marveling over the Quinjet’s new lighting. “Are you hot?” Your voice sounds foreign, different to you—a different timbre, a little more hoarse.

“Not particularly.”

Your stomach does a little flip because shit, his voice sounds different too.

You swallow, rising to your feet. “How long was I asleep?”

“I did not keep track. Perhaps an hour. Maybe two.”

He swivels in the pilot chair, and your stomach does a funny kind of flip. He’s the perfect picture of a confident, cocky prince with a sort of casual regality; he’s leaning back just a little lower with his legs spread open, one arm hanging over the armrest while the other is bent at the elbow, a closed fist by his face. Like he sits on his own throne, proud and powerful and incredibly sexy.

And you’ll be damned if you don’t admit it’s an attractive sight.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks, his head falling to one side. The intensity of his gaze burns into you, and something inside you coils unmistakably. What the hell…?

“I…” your voice catches, and you clear your throat. “I did. Maybe—do—uh, do you want to take a nap this time? ’Cause I can keep watch.” You hurry to your feet, and your legs feel like jelly as you stand. It’s as if they aren’t a part of your body as they take you to the heart of the ship, the halfway point between the cot and the cockpit.

Loki stands, still staring at you, and even in the dimness of the ship you can see that the intensity with which he looks at you hasn’t waned. He reaches you, standing a good foot away, and stops.

You try to calm the wild beating of your heart, rooted to the spot from his attentions, and you fidget. Your eyes are flighty in contrast, flitting from his face to his chest to the void outside the Quinjet and back again.

He lifts a single finger up to your face, tipping your chin upwards so your eyes meet. Heat begins to pool somewhere specific now, and you’re not sure what to do about it.

Obviously nothing, your brain screams in protest. It’s like your mind is swimming, your afterthoughts delayed and your actual thoughts heady, private wishes just bubbling at the surface.

“Your face is red,” Loki comments, his voice low and soft. Like the blanket he tucked you into. No, a part of you thinks, stop this right now—

He brushes his knuckles against your cheek, regarding you with great interest. “You’re burning up as well. Shall I take you to bed?”

Surely he doesn’t mean for his words to come out as much of an innuendo as they do, but that’s immediately where your mind goes: into the gutter.

“A-aren’t you tired?” you say instead, allowing Loki to steer you by the shoulders back to the pull-out. “I can definitely—”

“No, you need to rest,” he insists. As your butt hits the mattress, Loki’s expression shifts into a thoughtful one. “Although your suit seems to be an unfitting set of clothes, considering you’re quite hot. One moment.”

Loki disappears, walking to a hidden part of the ship and you take this time to fan yourself. It’s still unbelievably hot, and the way your folds are slippery without any stimulation (except, you think with a small smirk, Loki’s little pilot chair moment was visual stimulation enough) causes alarm bells to ring faintly in the distance of your mind.

You experimentally flex your lower muscles and—oh. Oh.

“Here,” Loki says as he saunters back into view. He tosses you a dark green shirt. “Wear that.”

You stare at the bundle of fabric in your lap and realize it’s his.

And just like that, a fire is lit within you.

You bring up the shirt to your face, inhaling his scent when he turns his back, and fucking hell does he smell good. Your mouth practically waters at it, your eyes trained on Loki’s back as he settles back into the pilot’s chair.

Unconsciously you bite your lip as you wonder what his skin might look like underneath his armor.

“Don’t turn around,” you say, fighting the urge to jump him right then and there that surges to the fore. You’re tempted. You really are. And you also want him not to listen to you and turn around, watch you undress and change into his shirt.

Again, what in the hell…?

You shimmy out of your clothes and pull Loki’s shirt over you. It’s Asgardian in design, likely tailored specifically for him. You wearing it just feels so intimate. The smell that’s so distinctly him envelops you and quite frankly, it’s intoxicating.

You stand, and the shirt falls just to your mid-thighs. He didn’t bother getting you any shorts; you’re not sure if you’re grateful or angry, or maybe a heady mix of both.

Bundling up your used clothes in your arms, you clear your throat. “Thank you.”

Loki swivels around, stuttering to a stop when he sees you. His eyes rake over you, from your messy bedhead down to your exposed legs. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat quite visibly, and your pride rears its head in victory.

“No shorts, though?” you ask innocently, one eyebrow shooting up.

“Unnecessary,” he answers with a devious grin that makes your insides melt and ignite all at once.

He turns his attention back to the controls, and you lay your clothes by the side of the pull-out.

Wearing Loki’s shirt does little to cool your temperature—in fact, it’s still blistering despite the Quinjet’s air conditioning.

“Are you sure it isn’t hot?” you ask again. You know you’re asking unnecessary questions, but you want to get him talking, speaking to you in that gorgeous velvet full voice of his.

You hear him chuckle, a gush of heat rushing towards your center. “I’m afraid that’s all you, little one.”

Sighing, you flop onto the bed, pulling a pillow over your legs. Maybe if you take another nap, the heat will subside from your body.

Your arousal, on the other hand…

A thought enters your mind, fleetingly, because you immediately push it away and chastise yourself through the murky fog of your brain. Pleasuring yourself? In Loki’s presence? The absurdity of the idea. You should be feeling shame… only you don’t. Not really, at least.

You shift onto your side, squeezing your eyes tight. Sleep does not come to you. You try lying on your back, on your stomach, and then again—

“Are you alright back there?”

The normal tone Loki uses astounds you, seeing as you’re somehow a feverish, horny mess and he isn’t. It puzzles you, and some deep part of you wants to figure out why. Only your brain seems to refuse to cooperate unless you’re thinking of doing certain things.

Things you certainly don’t mind doing with Loki.

“I-it’s hot,” you explain, embarrassed defeat lacing your words. How many times have you said that to him? You probably sound like a broken record.

At this, Loki lets out a full peal of laughter, husky and with a sensual edge to it. You wish you could make him laugh, hear it one more time. Or twice. Or on loop. It doesn’t really matter.

He swivels again to face you, his sitting posture similar to the one earlier, and it does things to you. Causes an uproar that’s novel to you, a need rising within you that must be sated.

Loki makes a smooth come hither motion with his fingers, curling from his pinky to his index. A beckoning you can’t refuse. “Perhaps I can help. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m quite adept at magic. It may help the current predicament you face.”

You slide off the cot and walk barefooted to the copilot chair. He looks a little different, you realize as you amble towards him. Maybe it’s the allergies, but just as he sounds different, there’s something different about him now that you’re really looking. He’s always been a pretty face and you’ve always found him extraordinarily handsome, but right now is different. You just can’t put a finger on it, so you chalk it up to his aura changing. Or the allergies. Most likely it’s the allergies.

You’re about to sit in the copilot chair beside him, only to be stopped when Loki laughs again and wraps his fingers around your wrist. All you hear is a faint, “No, silly girl,” before he pulls you in between his legs.

Pulls you with surprising strength, it seems, because your butt lands almost unceremoniously in the crook of his groin and lap. Your knees are hooked over the opposite arm rest, which means if you shift even just the tiniest bit to the side, your hip will come in contact with a certain part of him.

It’s a dilemma, you think with a giggle, if you want to be caught in a hard place.

His arms snake around your waist, pulling you close to him, and it just registers that you’re sitting on his lap holy shit you’re sitting on his lap.

“Are you comfortable?” he murmurs, adjusting your position so he can rest his chin on your shoulder. Instantly your mouth goes dry; it’s the proximity. You’ve never been this close to him before, and being in such a… an intimate position has you tense and rigid on top of him.

“I think so?” you squeak, stilling further as Loki’s nose burrows into your hair. He parts the curtain of your hair with side to side movements, until he buries his face into your neck. He inhales, and a delicious shiver runs down your sides.

“Good,” he breathes.

You’re frozen on his lap, afraid to even let out the smallest puff of air. His face just stays there, in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.

“Are… you okay?”

And then your heart stops, because he’s lifting his head, his fingers brushing your hair to the back and exposing your nape to the cool air. The next second he’s tracing the tip of his nose from your chin up to your earlobe, where he pauses. You’re acutely aware of his lips against your skin, just barely brushing against it. “Never been better.”

He inhales again, deeply, and another shiver runs down your spine. You were wrong to think he was unaffected; something’s changed between you as you slept, and you aren’t sure why or what it is.

“You smell…” He trails off, moving down and back to the spot behind your ear. You swear you feel the slightest whisper of a kiss there, and it takes extra effort to hold in the sigh that’s caught in your throat. “…different.”

“I have a smell?” It comes out with a halfhearted, short laugh; an attempt to ease the thick tension that hangs over you.

Loki only hums in response. This time, with the pressure on your neck and the puffs of his breathing against your skin, you’re sure Loki’s lips are on you. Not a kiss, nothing more—just a steady weight that anchors you in his lap.

Anchors you to the reality that you are in his lap.

“And you are so warm.” The way he says it, his mouth moving against your skin, it’s almost as if he’s talking to himself. His arms around your waist tighten, and your hip comes in contact with a little bulge.

Well, not very little, but…

“Y-yeah, I thought you were going to do something about that.”

“Hmm? Oh, yes.”

His hand rests on your exposed thigh, his thumb rubbing hypnotic circles into your skin. “Better?” he asks with his face still buried in the crook of your neck.

“I don’t think so.” Coherency becomes increasingly difficult to achieve; you’re too focused on the sizzle of electricity thrumming within your veins, spidering from where he touches you.

“How about…” His hand glides up your thighs, skimming over your underwear and underneath the baggy shirt until they come up to rest on your hip. “Now?”

You’re sure he kisses you this time, on that sensitive spot below your ear, and you bite your lip to stop yourself from making a sound.

“Still nothing,” you whisper, strained. “As hot as ever.”

There is no second guessing anymore: something wet and hot darts out behind your ear, and Loki’s lips press a firm, lingering kiss there as his hand skims to the center of your stomach. You suck in a shaky breath, your eyes slipping closed at the spark you feel.

“And now?” he questions, just by your ear. The conspiratorial tone and the volume he uses makes you clench in anticipation.

Instead of answering, you shift on his lap—purposefully grinding a little bit on his evident erection. You hear Loki’s breathing change just slightly, his fingers curling on your stomach.

You think he’s about to do something to break the sexual tension and turn it into something tangible, something you both can actually do to ease the ache you’re sure you both feel, but you know the God of Mischief enjoys his games. He enjoys acting unaffected when in fact he is, and you intend to play that to your advantage. Somehow.

“I’m not sure I’m feeling anything,” you say as nonchalant as possible. A plan quickly brews in your mind, and you pretend to notice something on the dashboard. You wriggle in Loki’s lap, making sure to rub him in all the right places as you tell him you swear you saw something whiz past.

The way Loki tenses underneath you brings you a small bout of satisfaction.

“Perhaps,” he starts, his voice clearly strained as you begin to rotate your hips ever so lightly against him, “perhaps a nap is what you need.”

“But Loki,” you say, exaggerated and almost whiny as you lean back against his lean chest, feeling the full extent of his arousal against your lower back, “who’s going to see if the asteroid comes back?”

You yelp as Loki stands, one arm hooked under your knees and the other around your waist. He’s carrying you, the thought floating through your muddled brain.

“Stark will handle it. Like you said. Trust him and his technology, or something like that,” he says, voice a little rough. “It’s bed for you.”

Loki lays you down with surprising gentleness, smoothing the covers around you. You think you might be able to sleep a little now that a little pent up energy has been released, but you only become shell-shocked when Loki climbs into the cot beside you.

It’s not a very large bed, mind you, which means that you’re trapped between his body and the wall of the ship. There isn’t much room to lay on your back when Loki’s in it with you, so you settle on your side while he does the same.

Loki pulls your back to his chest, completely flush against his body. “Relax,” he murmurs. “Try to sleep.”

Yeah, as if you can with something very hard poking into your backside.

For the record, you do try to sleep. You let your eyes drift closed with Loki’s arm draped over you, but even when you reach that half asleep state you’re focused on his erection behind you and his arm slowly making its way under your shirt again.

And somehow, whether it’s of your own doing or your body on autopilot, your hand slowly makes its way behind, reaching between you and placing it flat against his erection.

It’s like time stops. There’s nothing but static in your brain, the only sound the ever-present hum of the ship. As if neither of you dare to breathe. Loki’s fingers rest on your hipbone, where the garter of your underwear rests.

Neither of you move. You stay like this, for how long you don’t know, until Loki exhales a little, pressing his length against your palm.

“Can’t sleep,” you whisper, shifting to ease the budding strain in your arm. “Still hot.”

“So am I,” Loki replies softly.

You don’t think you can tense up further, but your body surprises you. “Maybe…” You don’t know why you’re allowing your question to form and where you’re getting the boldness to ask. “Maybe you should take something off.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and you don’t turn around to face him. The sound of the sheets rustling and the mattress shifting is enough to tell you that he got up. Cold dread begins to replace the delicious fire that was coursing through your veins—have you scared him away? Offended him?

The mattress dips again, and Loki’s pulling you against him, in the same spooning position you were in earlier. Only… only he’s shirtless, you realize when your back hits his chest.

Shit, you really want to turn around and take a good look at his gloriously naked chest first.

You’re not sure your heart can take any more when Loki slowly guides your hand back to the evidence of his arousal. Once he places your palm on his erection, his hand is sliding over your skin underneath what you’re wearing, resting just underneath the swell of your breast.

“You know, mortal, you are very pretty,” he admits quietly, his finger dashing against your skin. “And your company is… tolerable.”

“Yeah, you’re not too bad yourself, Reindeer Games.” It comes out rushed, breathy, and a small moan of pain (or is it?) punctuates the end of your sentence as he drags a nail over your skin.

“Do not call me that. Or I will have to punish you.”

When did you decide to court danger?

“Are you threatening me with a good time?”

“Perhaps I am threatening you with the absence of one.”

Fast as lightning, Loki removes his touch from you. “You are still feverish. Perhaps you should take off your shirt.”

“You mean your shirt.” Your heart thumps loudly against your ribcage, your hands now toying with the hem of the fabric. The tone between you two has shifted so drastically, the tension so thick it’s almost suffocating. You sit up, twisting to see Loki lying on his side, his eyes dark and half-lidded.

You maintain eye contact as you grip the end of the shirt, slowly pulling it as it exposes, bit by bit, the upper half of your thighs, your underwear, your stomach, your breasts, until you pull it over your head and toss it to the side. Loki stares at you all the while, a hungry look in his eye, but does nothing.

“Lie back down,” he commands, running a finger over your bare side. “Perhaps now you will be able to cool off.”

He twirls the ends of your hair around his fingers as you do as he says, the warmth of your center now the focus of your attention as it thrums.

Loki props you against him, on your side again, his fingers dancing across your midriff, moving up until he’s tracing the tops of your breasts and ghosting over your nipples.

Your back arches almost unconsciously, pressing into him where he meets you with equal pressure.

Experimentally you gyrate over his erection, making sure to keep your movements slow and agonizing. His hands skim over your breasts until he takes one in his hand, rolling your nipple between his fingers until they pebble.

His head falls onto your shoulder as you keep with your tantalizing dance over his hips, his breathing growing ragged. He tweaks and pulls at your nipples, squeezing and palming your breasts until it’s the only thing that clouds your mind.

“Are you—are you still warm?” he asks, evidently trying and failing to keep his composure as you buck your ass against him particularly hard.

“You tell me.”

He flicks over your breast in response, your head falling back with a barely held back moan.

“Maybe you should take off your pants,” you suggest with a sigh.

“Maybe I should take off yours.”

“I’m not wearing any, remember?”

Loki stills, which makes you do the same. He shifts, gently guiding you to lie on your back. The confusion must be clear as day on your face, because Loki stares at you with those intense green eyes of his as he climbs on top of you.

Your faces are level, his eyes scanning every inch. You’re not sure where this is coming from; one minute he’s all over your breasts and the next he’s quiet and on top of you. He buries his face in your neck for what feels like the millionth time today, setting off a reaction that sends another wave of want to your core.

This time he sucks on your neck, and you gasp. Your hands move to bury into his hair, but Loki pins your arms to the sides by your wrists. You writhe underneath him as he marks you with tongue and teeth.

He peppers kisses around your neck, your throat, your collarbone as he grinds into you. Letting out a small groan, he moves to hover over your lips.

“Tell me to kiss you,” he whispers hoarsely. “Do it. Now.”

The grip on your wrists has slackened and you take the opportunity to pull Loki’s face to yours. Hungry and passionate is what the kiss is: his mouth moves quickly, in sync with yours, as though to make sure every bit of this is real and not just a fever dream. You savor it, the taste of him, leaving you dizzy and delirious with every swipe of his tongue and graze of his teeth against your lips. It’s almost rough, the way he kisses you, but it fits the urgency you feel. You don’t want to have it any other way.

He travels down until he’s suckling at your breasts, and you do everything in your power to hold in the moan that rises in your throat. All you can feel is heat and slick and the pulsing of your blood, overcome with the need to be filled to the brim by him.

You’re about to fumble with his pants when he trails a path of kisses down your torso, stopping when he reaches between your legs.

You’re practically trembling with anticipation now. Seeing Loki in between your legs, a wicked grin on his face, has you wetter than you’ve ever gotten in life. He spreads you apart, settling between them, and feathers kisses over your inner thighs.

“Loki,” you say through gritted teeth, your pussy clenching as he nears your sweet center. “Stop teasing.”

He shifts forward, kissing your hips, your stomach jumping underneath him. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he bares his teeth, scraping over your skin and biting down on the fabric of your underwear.

He slides one side down, his mouth dragging over your thigh, your underwear between his teeth; he does the same to the other side, and again he goes. All the way, pulling your underwear down with his teeth until they’re around your ankles. He discards it lazily, adding it to the growing pile of clothes, and at this point you’re nothing but a whimpering mess.

“So this is the source of your sweet smell,” he mutters as he lowers his head between your legs. You’re shaking lightly, wound tight from the excitement, and when Loki inhales the scent of you, long and drawn out, you almost want to cum right there and then.

“Absolutely divine,” he comments. Then he’s placing his tongue flat against you, your head falling back against the pillow, unable to hold in the moan that spills from your lips.

It’s like an explosion of little lights, you think distantly. Little stars bursting from one touch.

He lifts his head from your cunt with a mischievous grin. “I like that sound, little one. Let’s see how many times I can make you do it again.”

The feeling of Loki’s head between your legs, his mouth inside you, is incomparable. He dives into your cavern, his dexterous tongue causing you to sigh praises that seem to only spur him on. It’s a steady, swirling motion that drives you insane, your pelvis arching.

Then he’s moving up to swipe over your clit, and every nerve ending in your body sizzles and frays, another loud moan of his name ripped from your throat. With a grip of steel, he holds your thighs down, parted wide, as he assaults your clit with sucks and nibbles and licks.

“Loki,” you pant, hips bucking against his mouth. Your insides begin to coil in preparation, your walls clenching around Loki’s tongue. “Loki, I—”

He hums, almost like he’s questioning you, and the vibration on your sensitive parts is enough to send you over the edge.

The orgasm that overtakes you is powerful, pulsing through every part of your body as you whisper his name like a prayer. Only Loki doesn’t stop—he licks up every drop that leaks from you, and it’s enough stimulation for another powerful orgasm to build.

His lips latch onto your clit, sucking rhythmically, as his tongue swipes and swirls around the bundle of nerves.

“Loki,” you try to say, only it comes out a breathy whine, “I want to go down on you too—ah—”

He plunges a finger deep within you, curling against your G-spot in time with his sucks.

“Fucking hell, Loki,” you grind out, your fingernails digging into his scalp as you rotate your hips on his face. You can feel the steady climb to another precipice of an orgasm, as well as the tiny smirk that plays on Loki’s face against you.

Your grip tightens on his hair as he speeds up his movements; rapid, quick swipes on your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you shallowly. Your walls begin to clench at the splinters of release—

“Not yet,” he says, removing his lips and fingers from you with a dark grin.

Frustration wells up within you, but it’s shadowed by the undeniable thrill that shoots towards your center. If you’re understanding Loki right—which you do most of the time—he isn’t finished with you just yet.

He crawls on top of you like a prowling animal, the pure lust in his eyes mirroring what you feel. He captures your lips in a kiss, languid and seductive, his hands cradling your face.

The juxtaposition of the entire situation hits you like a freight train. He’s gentle when he’s holding you like this, like you’re made of glass, but the urgency with which he grinds into your naked mound detonates another explosion of emotions. One action is delicate, the other rough. Contrast bolting through you at the same time and colliding into one as pleasure.

“You’re amazing,” you sigh into his mouth, and you can feel Loki suck in a breath, pausing at your words. Spotting your chance, you roll on top of him, straddling his waist with a smirk.

Loki’s eyes open, a ghost of bewilderment etched onto his face at the sudden shift, and then when he sees your expression he transforms his own into his usual confident half-grin. As though he’s merely amused by this whole situation—but he isn’t fooling you.

“I didn’t think you had it in you, little one,” he drawls, sliding his hands up your sides.

You grab his forearms, pushing them down to his sides as you rock against the clothed tent in his pants. Loki could easily overpower you, you know that, free his arms from your not so vicelike grip, but he lets you. Lets you pin his arms to his sides just as he did to you.

Lowering your head, you run your nose along the expanse of his chest, up to his neck where it’s your turn to inhale deeply. He smells just like the shirt you were wearing, only ten times more potent, and it sends a fresh wave of heady arousal to wash over you.

“Not yet,” you echo his words from earlier, your grip tightening on his wrists as you grind down into him. You can feel Loki about to respond with a snarky remark, so you silence him by suctioning your lips on his neck. Your one track mind has only one goal: mark him with bruises that are of your doing. Claim him as yours.

You lift off him with a little pop; not a very sexy sound, but Loki seems to enjoy it with the way his hips seem to be moving of their own accord. You kiss across his throat before suctioning again on another spot right below his jaw.

This time, you play a little rough.

Loki’s hips jerk upwards as your teeth rake over his skin, his breath fanning over your hair. “Little minx,” he utters, groaning a second later as you push your center against him with a harder bite to his neck.

“Pants off, Loki,” you whisper.

He frees one arm from your grip and haphazardly waves his hand, and your swollen sex comes in contact with the flesh of his hard and heavy cock.

Just as Loki’s about to jerk up and into you, you lift your hips off of him. It kills you to do it, but the teasing, the foreplay, causes you to feel a smidge of power.

“I said, not yet,” you say, sliding down his body until your face is level with his cock.

His length throbs in front of you, and somehow, somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind you think you’ve never seen a cock as beautiful as his. Curious, you lick a stripe down the underside of it, from the base up to the tip.

Loki masks his hiss, turning it into a cheeky exhale, folding an arm under his head. “Go on then. Impress me.”

Whatever intimidation game he’s trying to play, feigning nonchalance, it’s not going to work on you. You take a moment to examine the bead of precum that leaks from his slit, your fingers at the base of his erection, and drag the tip of your tongue over it before sliding your lips over the blunt head.

You don’t bob up and down; unmoving, merely suckling and swirling your tongue around the head of his cock. His hands fist into your hair as your hand and mouth begin to pump up and down his shaft, and just like that promises and praise fall from his lips like wine.

You chance a glance at him, and are utterly pleased by the sight. Loki’s eyes are scrunched shut, barely containing his pleasure, breathing hard through his nose. To have him, a god, reduced to his most carnal needs at your ministrations fills you with gratification. You take him further into your mouth until you can feel him pulsing with almost release, and then you lift off him with a sly grin.

“Not yet,” you repeat in almost a teasing, singsong kind of way.

Loki glares at you, but it’s hardly threatening. You manage to laugh as you level your faces, kissing him hot on the mouth and guiding your slick entrance to his throbbing cock.

You hover over him, not fully seated, his cock just stretching you the slightest bit. Your self-restraint cracks with every passing second you remain unmoving, until Loki takes your hips in his hands and brings you down on top of him, seating you on top of him.

He stretches you in a way you can only describe as full. You lean forward, planting your hands on his lean chest, and rock against him, eyes closing at the feeling.

It’s nothing you could ever conjure up in your wild dreams—he fills you, grinding in time with you and sending you into a barely controlled frenzy. But you keep your movements slow, relishing the way you can feel him throb inside you. Everything feels so new, a first you’ve never experienced: each touch, movement, kiss, no matter how small seems to be amplified in the small ship. It fills you with an unfamiliar, delicious kind of fire, boiling inside you.

“Not—not bad,” Loki grunts, unable to maintain the once casual tone he used before. “For a mortal.”

You swivel your hips and rake your nails over his chest, and Loki’s mouth parts lightly. “Not bad,” you remark, squeezing your muscles around him, “Reindeer Games.”

It’s Loki’s turn to seize his opportunity, it seems, because his eyes fly open, a wild, hungry look to him as he flips you underneath him, his cock still buried in you. The shift in position drives you a little mad, your pussy clenching unconsciously around him.

“What did I say,” he asks dangerously, plowing in and out of you with slow, agonizing strokes, “about calling me that?”

“You’d punish me.” A delicious shiver runs down your spine as the words come out.

“Wonderful that you remember. Because you’re about to forget everything except my name.”

And with that promise, Loki brings your wrists over your head, pinning them above you with a firm grip, his mouth seeking yours as he begins to rut into you more senselessly now. He swallows the moan you make when the tip of his cock hits a particularly sensitive spot inside you, making sure to angle it right where you’re most sensitive.

He doesn’t cease his movements when he latches onto your breast, roughly biting and sucking until you’re whimpering soft cries and pleas and praises. His other hand caresses the curve of your hip and ass before he presses on your clit.

If you were seeing stars earlier, right now you’re seeing entire galaxies explode behind your eyes. The sensations are overwhelming, your legs spread wide open, and just when you think you’ve felt it all, Loki takes you by surprise and pulls you both into a kneeling position. He bounces you on his cock with unrelenting speed, and your arms find their way around his shoulders as you approach orgasm yet again.

You subconsciously flex your walls around him, biting down on his shoulder to prepare you for an orgasm—only Loki slows to a stop, gently laying you back down on your back.

The release that built inside you ebbs away, and you clench around Loki, a silent signal for him to continue. Only Loki pulls himself out of you, resting atop you with his face buried in your neck, suckling another bruise into your skin.

“Loki,” you breathe, his hand cupping your breast, “Loki, please.”

The god has the nerve to smile against you, you feel it. “What did you say to me earlier?”

“You said it to me first, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Loki lifts his head, his eyes boring into yours, blown with desire and yet… something has shifted. Something else is there.

“You are extraordinary,” he tells you, brushing hair away from your forehead. “You have always been the object of my attention, ever since you walked into the board room on your first day.”

Your throat closes with the genuine admission, and you swallow the lump in your throat. “Yeah, well, I always thought you were pretty neat. Maybe we can talk later and finish what we started?”

Loki chuckles, his eyes crinkling, and presses a kiss to your lips. “Smart woman.”

It’s almost as if the tender moment doesn’t happen at all, because Loki’s arms snake underneath you to bring your hips closer to his, plunging into you and reaching a deeper spot that makes both of you groan in earnest. Whatever just happened, you can probably mark it for later with a good sit-down conversation. Right now your focus is on his cock inside you, and you don’t hesitate to tell him how good he’s making you feel.

“Hands above your head,” he commands.

You oblige, and his head immediately dips to your breasts. He’s kissing, licking everywhere he can reach, while your hands tangle in his hair, his shoulders, his muscled back. Your back arches, his cock thrusting mercilessly into you, burying himself to the hilt and brushing against that sweet, sweet spot over and over.

You don’t know how you’re ever going to come back from this. Loki buried within you, your cunt stretching to accommodate him, perfectly slotting into each other. His fingers rub against your clit, adding to your already overloaded senses and fuck, it’s as if all the effects from the foreplay and your heat come crashing down in one big tidal wave.

The speed at which Loki’s pounding into you is almost ungodly, unreal. Your mouth hangs open, your orgasm building with extraordinary intensity—

Almost as quickly as it builds, you’re tipped over the edge, a broken wail of his name accompanying the spasms in your lower body. You’ve never had an orgasm as shattering as this one, your cunt fluttering around Loki even as you slowly come down from your high.

“That’s it,” Loki says, jaw set. “Very good, little one.”

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down—he continues to wreck you, the sounds of your coupling obscenely filling the air. You want him to feel the seismic pleasure you just did—so you clamp around him, rotate your hips in little circles in time with his thrusts.

“You’re absolutely amazing,” you tell him, watching how he slowly unravels with every new praise. You tell him how good he makes you feel, how good he is, perfect and incredible and oh, the things you would do to—

Loki bends down and kisses you ferociously, licking every part of your mouth and biting on your lips as he bucks, going rock hard and cumming inside you. His movements slow, just a fraction, as you let him ride out his high.

“Glorious woman,” he mutters, his eyes still closed as he kisses over every inch of your face.

You’re about to return with a compliment of your own, but are cut off when Loki grinds into you again.

“A-are you still hard?” you ask, a giggle rising to your throat whose tail end turns into another moan.

“I’ve lost count how many times I’ve made you make that wonderful sound,” he says, hips stirring back to life as you feel a fresh bout of slick moisture gush down your legs. “I think that’s quite a success.”

And then he’s flipping you over, on your stomach, pulling your ass up and sliding his still-hard cock back into your dripping folds, reaching depths you didn’t even know you had, evidently ready for another round.

Through your half-lidded eyes, you make out the faint outline of stars—whether they’re from the pleasure you feel or actually there, you don’t know.

-- -- --

You’d think overstimulation would best you, but your entire afternoon—evening, morning, you can’t really tell, space is just completely dark—has been you and Loki all over each other all over the ship.

You can’t tell how long it’s been, but you can feel the ship beginning to descend into Earth’s atmosphere.

“Hey. Hey, Loki—ah, yes, there—”

You’ve also lost track of how many orgasms you’ve had.

You writhe underneath him, searing hot ecstasy blistering in your core as Loki sucks on your clit, his teeth just lightly scraping over it, his fingers smoothing over your inner thighs.

“You taste so sweet, little one,” he murmurs against you, licking through your folds.

“Don’t distract me.” You swat at his head weakly. “I think we’re here.”

“Haven’t touched the ground,” he says, shrugging, making to dive back into your well-spent cunt.

You stop him before he can seduce you into letting him taste you again, and again, as he’d been doing all day.

Whatever warmth you were feeling earlier has completely subsided from your body, and even your mind feels clearer. As soon as you came down from whatever it was, all that was left was a blissful afterglow that you still feel until now.

Surprisingly, you and Loki haven’t had any awkward, dead air—granted, he has been buried in your thighs and yours in his most of the trip. You thought maybe as soon as the strange fever subsided, you’d both be back to whatever it was before this, but apparently not. It seems to have opened up a door, an opportunity, one you both mutually want to walk through together.

“We still have time,” Loki purrs, caressing your folds with his thumbs.

“You’re insatiable,” you sigh, and Loki takes this as a sign to delve back into your warmth, his tongue gliding into you for the umpteenth time today.

“You love it.”

 --

You and Loki disembark the Quinjet, you with shaky legs and him with a sort of spring in his step. You’re not sure what to tell the others when you see them, a tinge of worry sneaking into your bubble of sexual satisfaction.

As soon as you walk into the board room, you’re met with the expectant eyes of the Avengers, studying the pair of you with varying expressions.

And then Loki’s sliding his arm around your waist, bringing you closer to him, and the room erupts into shouts of “Called it!” and “No!” and you can’t help but laugh at the raucousness of it all.

“I’m glad we couldn’t take the Bifrost coming back here,” you tell Loki quietly.

“As am I,” he whispers back.

“Yeah, about that,” Stark cuts in, stepping forward, “yeah… you totally could have used it.”

[tonymystarks]

Let Me Keep You Warm - Chapter 1: SteveTony Fic

Tony gets a injured on the way to a battle. The boys are also lost in the woods and there is only one bed. (Protective Steve is my fav, can you tell?)

*

Tony knew a thing or two about waking up in strange places. 

When Tony was young, M.I.T young, he would fall asleep in the library or on Rhodey’s room floor. It was also the start of working so long in the lab that he would pass out in front of whatever project he was working on at the time.

He also knew about waking up in places that he had no memory of being. 

After long nights of drinking, holes in events that happened were something to be expected. The feeling that accompanied was always a dead giveaway of how he came to be in this place.  Tony was intimately familiar with that feeling.

This, however, was something different.

Tony’s body felt sore, not in a hungover way; it was a whole-body ache. Like he had been hit by something big. Had he been hit by something big? He couldn’t remember, and his brain was so foggy. He was also cold, which didn’t make sense. The Iron Man suit kept him warm, but he wasn't wearing it. Why wasn’t he wearing it? 

Slowly the fog around him started to lift, and he remembered that he was headed toward a battle. He was in the quinjet, being briefed about 4 minutes out, flying over a middle-of-nowhere forest when they had been struck. He hadn’t been wearing his suit yet.

He hadn’t been alone, though. Someone was with him. Who was with him? 

Just as he was trying to remember, a voice cut through the fog, trying to shake him out of his dream-like state.

“Tony? Tony, please, sweetheart, I need you to open your eyes for me.” The voice, while steady, had an edge of desperation to it. 

Tony knew that voice; he trusted that voice. He should do what that voice is saying.

Tony slowly opened his eyes and waited for them to focus. The blurry shape started to become clearer the more that he blinked. 

He saw the out-of-focus person start to move, cradling Tony’s body. The person's face was close enough that Tony could feel their breath on his face.

“Oh, thank God,” the voice- Steve! The voice was Steve’s- sounded relieved.

Tony worked to focus on Steve’s face. He could see the tension, the worry line that Steve got when he tried to stay calm. 

“Hey cap, how ya’ doing?” Tony took stock of their surrounding as he spoke

“How am I? Tony, you’re the one that was knocked out after being shot out of the sky! I’d be a lot better if I knew if you’re injured.” Steve proceeded to run his hand up and down Tony’s arms and ribs, feeling for any breaks. 

“I’m fine, Captain Worrywart. I’ve had worse,” and he wasn’t lying. As much as he was confused and sore, this wasn’t nearly close to other experiences he had been through in his life.

“I know, but that doesn’t mean you’re still not hurt. We are alone out here, and it’s better that we know now before it gets any worse.” 

Tony finally looked around as Steve finished speaking. Besides the skid from where the quinjet had crashed and its smoking twisted wreckage, there was nothing around but trees. 

“Well, shit.”

“Yeah.” Steve sighed.

Tony sat up, moving out of reach of Steve, which he didn’t want to do. The feel of Steve’s arm around him helped ground him, keeping the panic at bay. Tony didn’t like this. He was sure that the team would find them, but how long would that be? They still had the battle to fight, and that would take priority. He had to concentrate; they couldn’t stay here. 

“I’m OK. I mean, I feel like I was shot out of the sky, but what can you do? I can walk, and we need to find somewhere safe. It's cold, and those clouds look like it's gonna snow.” Tony moved to stand up, wobbling on his feet as he did. 

Steve moved quickly to help steady him, grabbing his elbow to help stay upright. The tension in Steve's shoulders was becoming visible again.

“Tony…” 

“Steven, I am fine. We have to get moving. Put that tactical brain to work and figure out where the best direction for us to start walking is.” 

“Right, OK. You’re right. Who knows when the team is going to be able to get out here. I think I saw a structure back before we got hit, so if we walk back the way we came, we should be able to find it. A couple miles out, I think,”  Steve said, turning in the direction of the crash.

“Well then, let’s get walking” Tony started to walk, only to stumble as his whole body protested the movement.

He had had worse injuries for sure, but he was hurting. He hoped that Steve didn't notice, but he was never that lucky. 

“That’s obviously not going to work, Tones. Here, get on.” Steve turned his back to Tony and squatted.

“Get on where? What are you talking about?” 

“You can’t walk, you're most likely more hurt than you are willing to tell me, and I’m not going to let you make it worse. So get on my back; I’m going to carry you. It’ll go faster.” Steve was talking like this was a normal everyday thing, like he was offering a piggyback ride. 

“I can walk! I’m a strong independent Iron Man.” Tony heard Steve huff slightly in what sounded like an attempt to stifle a laugh. 

“I know that you are, but I’m here to help you. Let me take care of you.” 

Through all the pain and worry, that statement made Tony flush. Tony wanted to pretend that Steve felt that way, that he really wanted to take care of him, but Tony knew it was only within this context. Tony was injured, and Steve was just offering this as a courteous gesture, one friend to another.

“You OK there? We need to get moving” Steve’s words drew Tony out of his thoughts. 

“If you insist,” Tony did the best he could to get himself onto Steve’s back, but his injuries wouldn’t let him.

The position put too much pressure on the ribs, and the walking was just going to make it worse. Tony figured he would bite his lip and tough out the pain, but Steve… Steve knew that something was wrong, even without Tony saying anything. Steve took Tony off his back and turned around. Before Tony could say anything, Steve scooped him up into his arms. One arm under his knees and one was supporting his back.  The blush that Tony worked to fight down came back full force. 

“Steve…”

“Nope, I don’t want to hear it. I’m not going to hurt you any more than you are, and we need to move. This is the best option.” Steve set off walking, the quick pace should be jarring to Tony, but Steve was holding him steady.

Tony knew he should protest and shouldn’t feel the way he did, so safe and protected, but his brain fought against him with every passing moment. In this position, Tony could believe that nothing was going to hurt him. Steve was a barrier between him and the rest of the world.

Before he realized it, the adrenaline was leaving his body, and his head was resting on Steve’s chest. When he became aware of this, he lifted his head. Steve was already carrying him; he was going to bury his head in Steve’s neck. That didn’t sit well with Steve.

“Doll, it’s OK. You can rest. I’ve got you.” Steve adjusted his grip so that Tony had no choice besides resting his head in the crook of Steve’s neck.

The words Steve said didn’t really register. He was too busy soaking body heat Steve was throwing off. Tony was starting to shiver, whether that was from being cold or from shock was anyone’s guess, but Steve just gripped him tighter and walked him with a newfound determination. Tony’s eyes slipped close before he knew it; he was letting his consciousness drift in and out.

Tony had no idea how much time had passed when you felt the sway of Steve’s walking stop and Steve’s voice prying his eyes open. 

“I know you’re tired, Tony, but I have to put you down.” Steve was speaking to him so gently. It sounded like he was trying his hardest not to startle him.

“I’m not tired. I’m okay, Cap.” Tony said as he was being set down in front of an old wooden cabin.

It was obviously run down in a way that made it seem like no one had been in it for a while. There was ivy climbing up the sides of the walls, and pieces of the stairs had fallen away with rot. The front door looked to be covered in spider webs, and the porch in an unknown number of bugs.

“Home sweet home,” Tony muttered under his breath. 

“Hopefully, it’ll keep you warm while we wait. Stay here; I’m gonna check that it’s safe.” Steve walked towards the front door, moving around to avoid any of the wood that had fallen away.

He swatted away the spider webs and opened the door, cautiously walking inside. He was only in the cabin for about 45 seconds before he appeared in the doorway.  He walked down to Tony and put an arm around his waist, basically carrying him in the cabin.

“It’s small and musty, but it’s solid and has a bed.” Tony was then set down on the bed in question, sending a puff of dust into the air. 

Tony looked around and saw a small kitchenette with what looked like a hot plate and a mini-fridge that Tony didn’t even want to consider opening. There was also a couch tucked away in the corner, covered in all sorts of blankets that were probably just as dusty but looked more and more inviting the colder Tony got. Like Steve was reading his mind, he gathered up the blankets from the couch and brought them over to Tony on the bed.

He set them down and then picked what looked like the softest one and wrapped it around Tony’s shoulders. He draped it so carefully, and his hand lingered on the side of Tony’s neck, thumb subtly rubbing his cool skin.  

“You’re cold.” There was no questioning in Steve’s voice.

“I keep telling you that I’m fine, Winghead. Please stop worrying. You’re going to give yourself an ulcer.” Tony’s body began to slump back on the bed as he spoke. The last of the energy he was so desperately clinging to was leaving his body. 

“Yeah, sure, Shellhead. Whatever you say,” but Steve was only half listening.

Steve was busy walking around the room, pulling back tarps, and opening cupboards. He pulled out what looked like something freeze-dried and a book of matches. He left the food on the counter and walked over to the tiny fireplace Tony hadn’t noticed. There were a few pieces of firewood already in the fireplace and some next to it. 

Tony watched as Steve started a fire while he gave in to his body’s needs and laid his head down on the scratchy pillow. He was sure that he was going to be able to stay awake, but then again, he thought that when Steve had been carrying him outside. Suddenly, Tony felt a hand run through his hair and realized that Steve had walked over to him. The hand was so lovely, and Tony knew that Steve was doing it on purpose.

“I’m sure that the team will be here soon. You’re going to be OK; we’re going to be ok. I got you, sweetheart. Just warm up now, and rest. There you go. I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

And with that, Tony fell into a dreamless sleep.

[persephonesfill]

choke on me—chapter five

breathe me in (prequel fic)

chapter four

chapter six

a/n: i’m not going to say much, aside for a little warning that there is some violence and gore (nothing crazy) in this chapter. i’m super excited for this one and i hope you guys enjoy it! also, this chapter has my first battle scene so bear with me folks

rating: explicit

warning(s): this chapter contains violence, smut, and a little bit of gore

—————

Whatever peace they have following the carnival quickly dies when HYDRA rears its ugly head. Again. Tony hates how devoted they are to living up to their namesake. He had hoped that they would take their time to regroup after the fall of SHIELD, but apparently, four months was more than enough time. HYDRA's power ran that strong. 

Tony watches Steve throughout the briefing. He's been watching Steve a lot more lately. Ever since that ride on the Ferris wheel, he's been trying to be more open, more inviting, Steve taking to his attentions like a starving man to freshwater. Steve's all business right now. His jaw clenched, he's scrolling through the digital files JARVIS compiled for them on a tablet with a single-minded focus. His free hand rests on his knee curled into a fist. Tony can practically see the rage in him rising like a tidal wave. He can't imagine how Steve feels, to devote himself to something, to die for it, only for his sacrifice to be for naught. 

"God, these guys are like roaches," Clint says, cutting through the silence, tossing his tablet down on the table. "They could survive a nuclear winter." 

"So what's the plan here, Cap?" Natasha says, leaning forward in her chair. "You've got the most experience with HYDRA out of any of us." 

Steve sets his tablet down. "What we're going to do," he says, his voice colder than Tony's ever heard it, "is go for the head." 

"We strike fast, and we strike hard, leave them absolutely no time to recoup. HYDRA, no doubt, has a number of facilities at their disposal. We find them, and we burn them to the ground. Any operatives who surrender will be turned into the proper authorities. We don't want another Zola."

"JARVIS, can you pull up a three-dimensional render of the base?" Tony says. 

"Of course, sir," JARVIS says. 

A bright blue hologram appeared over the center of their table. Steve stands up and starts to circle it. He could practically see the wheels behind Steve's head turning, formulating a strategy from the bottom up. 

"They were smart when they made this base," Steve says. "It's incorporated into the mountain top. They'll be able to see us coming from all sides." 

Bruce speaks up. "What if we approach from the west? It looks like there's a pretty dense forest; we could use it for coverage."

"A ground assault would be suicide," Tony says, rising from his seat to take a closer look at the hologram. Steve moves over, making room for Tony to stand beside him. "They could have bunkers, watchguards, tanks, the works. We'd be fish in a barrel." 

"An aerial assault then," Thor suggests. "So we won't be caught unaware."

Steve gives the idea some thought, a muscle in his jaw working. "Tony and you could fly ahead and scout for assailants."

"That could work," Tony says. His mind is racing, running through all of the possible outcomes of their fledgling plan. The others could stay behind in the quinjet, and he had recently added retro-reflective paneling to it. "Once we give you the all-clear, we'll be right on top of them and—" 

"We'll have the element of surprise on our side," Steve finishes.

"And once we reach the base?" Natasha asks. 

"That's the easy part, Nat," Clint says. "We give 'em hell." 

*********

They finalize their plans and run them by Fury and what remains of SHIELD. They'll head out tomorrow morning, just before dawn, to catch them off guard. The others have left the war room, either to train or to get some rest. Steve sits at the table alone, the hologram casting his face in blue light. 

"Penny for your thoughts," Tony murmurs so as not to startle him. 

Steve glances at him and smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. 

"Talk to me, Steve," Tony says. "What's bugging you?" 

Steve sighs. "It'd be easier to list what isn't bugging me." 

With a sudden surge of daring, Tony steps off from where he'd been leaning against the wall and slides onto Steve's lap. Steve lets him, his hands settling on Tony's hips like they belong there. Tony wraps his arms around his neck and leans in. 

"Am I bugging you?" he whispers. 

"Never," Steve says fiercely, his grip on Tony's hips tightening. 

"That's one," Tony jokes. "Can't think of any others?" 

Steve presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Your smile." Another kiss on the tip of his nose this time, making Tony chuckle. "Your laugh." 

"Okay, Romeo," Tony says, laughing. "I get it. That's three, I guess." 

Steve smiles, a bigger one than the last one. His thumb has slid under Tony's shirt, rubbing circles into his hip. "Thank you," he murmurs. "It's just... I'm worried about the mission." 

"And why is that?" Tony asks like an idiot until he remembers that this base is located in the Alps, where so many things went catastrophically wrong for Steve. 

Steve's smile falls just as quickly as it came, and Tony kicks himself mentally for being the one to do it. "Whenever HYDRA's involved, things tend to go south pretty quick." 

"I gave my life to putting an end to HYDRA, and no matter what I do," Steve whispers, more to himself than to Tony, "they always come back. They always come back and take something from me. I'm fighting a war with no end, Tony." 

Tony cups Steve's face in his hands. "But you're still fighting," Tony says softly. "The second you stop, that's when they win. That's when there's no coming back." His thumb brushes over Steve's cheek, wiping away a stray eyelash. Sitting this close, Steve looked so young. Tony forgot that mentally, Steve was only twenty-nine. He carried himself with an age-old grace and had suffered so much…

"And you're not fighting alone. You never did. You had the Commandos," Tony says. He doesn't know where he's going with this, but he'll do anything to take that grimace off of Steve's face. 

"No one should be this alone," he thinks. 

"You have the Avengers," he continues. "You have me." 

"I've got you?" Steve asks. His voice sounds small, unsure. 

"You've got me. You'll always have me," Tony confirms. 

"I'm holding you to that," Steve says. 

"I'm a man of my word," Tony replies. 

Steve tilts Tony's head up, and they don't say anything after that. Not for a while.

*********

It's supposed to be a run-of-the-mill ambush, so of course, they're met with the modern-day equivalent of hellfire and brimstone—in HYDRA's case, a volley of gunfire. One second, Tony's flying over a mountain pass, thanking his lucky stars that his flight suit is insulated, the next a bright blue bolt of pure energy strikes him in one of his thrusters, sending him spiraling. Another shot sends Tony plummeting towards the earth in an ironic facsimile of the Battle of New York. 

The same terror grips him, that awful feeling of weightlessness and pressure all at once. He barely registers the shouts of the others over the comms before his sense finally kicks in, and he deploys the flaps meant to slow his fall. 

The impact still rattles his bones, and for an awful second, Tony swears his brain is shaking around in his skull. Whatever guns HYDRA were using had to be enhanced somehow because there's no way two shots from any old machine gun would take him out so easily. 

He's landed in a snowbank, thankfully. Tony always knew that there was a possibility that his suit would be his coffin, but he didn't want to bite the dust just yet. 

"Pepper would yell at me," he thinks, still trying to calm his racing mind down. "And Rhodey. And Happy. And Steve. Steve—"

"Iron Man? Iron Man, do you copy?" That's Steve's voice. There's an urgent note to it, almost like he's trying to stop himself from shouting. 

Tony blinks once, twice, and tries to answer him. "I'm fine, Cap. Just disoriented." 

"What's your location?" Natasha asks curtly, cutting off whatever Steve was going to say. Tony can hear gunfire in the background, and hurried commands barked out in Russian.

"Jarvis?" he asks. Tony used a separate comms unit precisely for moments like these when his suit might be compromised. "You there, buddy?" 

"Always, sir." 

Relief floods through Tony. He's not totally helpless if Jarvis is still on the line. 

"Can you send my location to the others?"

"With pleasure, sir." 

"Got it," Natasha says a second later. "I'm sending Thor to you. But first, Hawkeye, let's show these boys a little reciprocity, hm?" Natasha's voice is like ice. Tony almost feels bad for those poor HYDRA agents operating those machine guns. Almost. If only they weren't the scum of the earth. 

Tony can't see the quinjet anymore, but he can sure as hell hear it as Natasha unloads a barrage of bullets aimed directly at the turrets surrounding the HYDRA bunker. Never has he ever been more thankful for retro-reflective paneling. There's a pause in the gunfire, presumably from the HYDRA goons taking cover and Natasha ceasing her fire to allow Thor to reach him unharmed. 

In the meantime, Tony needs to figure out what he can salvage. 

"Is it just me, or do those guns remind anybody else of the Chitauri's weapons?" Clint says over the comms.

Thor lands in the snowbank, sending the snow into a flurry. He stalks towards Tony, his red cape fluttering in the wind. Lightning dances at his fingertips, and paired with the fury painting his face red, Tony would think it was directed at him. 

"Iron Man? Are you alright?" Thor asks when he reaches Tony. 

"I'm fine, just disoriented," Tony says, which is the truth. The snow broke most of the fall. Aside from a few minor cuts and bruises, he's alright. It's not the worst mission he's been on. Yet. 

"Your suit," Thor says. "Can you fly?"

Tony looks down, observing the damage. The gunfire's resumed, Natasha and Clint aiming with deadly accuracy. Good. That makes his job easier. The thrusters in his boots are shot, but his HUD and hand repulsors are still functioning. 

"Don't think so," Tony says. "Can I get a lift? I'll tip you." 

Thor chuckles, some of the fierceness in his stance deteriorating. "He's alright," Thor says. "He can still joke." 

"That's a relief," Clint says, actually sounding relieved. "Who else is gonna call me out on my bullshit?"

 With Thor's help, Tony strips out of the armor pieces that are nothing more than dead weight until he's down to his helmet, gauntlets, and chest piece. 

"Cease your fire," Thor says, wrapping an arm around Tony's waist. "We're joining the fray." And they're off. Thor's flying is different from Tony's own; Mjolnir functions as a weight, taking them into the mountain top's direction. It's completely flat on top, akin to a plateau. Every twenty feet is a gunman armed with what looks like a modified Chitauri gun. They're firing blindly, still looking out for the quinjet. "We're coming in," Tony says. "And Hawkeye, you're right. This does look like Chitarui weaponry." 

"Can you say that again so I can record it?" 

"In your dreams," Tony says. Thor lets go of Tony when they're safe to land. Tony rolls into the fall, landing in a crouch. The HYDRA gunman spots them, but before they can pull their handgun sitting at their waist, Tony's already fired two blasts from his repulsor, sending them flying. Thor sends Mjolnir flying through the machine gun, shattering it into hundreds of metal shards sparking and sputtering like the last embers of a fire. 

"One machine gun down," Tony reports. He stalks over to the HYDRA agent he shot and takes the handgun for himself. Ignoring the agent's blank, dead stare, he looks over the gun, trying to get a feel for how it functions. It's all sleek curves and silver chrome, a current of cobalt energy coursing through it like blood. He aims the gun and pulls what he hopes is the trigger at the gunner. The HYDRA agent screams as Tony's shot makes its target, charring his skin. "Make that two," Tony says. "The north side of the base is clear." 

"I'm dropping Cap off," Natasha says. "The north side is too small to land the jet." 

Mere seconds later, Steve's landing near them from seemingly nowhere, looking ready to kill. His eyes looking over Tony, "You okay?" he says, his voice rough. 

"I'm alright," Tony says. They can talk later. There's still a mission to finish. 

"There's four gunners on the western side," Steve says. "How long do you think until they call for reinforcements?"

The thundering sound of footsteps on concrete answers Steve's question. 

"Not long," Tony snarls and rounds the corner with Steve and Thor flanking him. One of the agents who abandoned the machine gun has a regular pistol aimed right at Tony. Steve moves like lightning, lifting his shield in front of Tony. The bullet ricochets and lodges into the agent's skull. 

Tony will thank him later, for now, they have to keep on moving. They need to clear space for Natasha to land. 

It's like he, Steve, and Thor have a telepathic link with how well they fight together, making quick work of the HYDRA agents and their alien weapons. "It could be a dance," Tony thinks, as they push forward. Thor wields Mjolnir with grace and finesse; it might as well be an extension of his arm. It's the hallmark of a person who's spent half their life spilling blood. Tony's the same when he has a gun in his hands, and this modified Chitauri gun is no different. Aiming and firing with the intent to kill, his weapons are all too happy to listen. And Steve, Steve fights with a dancer's grace, lethal power behind every one of his attacks. 

If he were a religious man, he could almost believe that he was meant to do this. That he was destined to fight by their side. 

The party truly starts when Natasha lands the quinjet. Bruce emerges, already going green, and it's through him that they're able to bust down the doors and breach the base. 

A fierce jolt of pride runs through him at the sight of Natasha and Clint wielding the batons and bow he made for them specifically, and he fights with a renewed sense of purpose. The HYDRA agents storm them all at once, but what's fifty men and women to six pissed off Avengers? 

The answer is nothing. The Hulk alone takes out ten agents, tossing them about like a child would a toy. Clint's converted his bow into its bo staff form while they're enclosed, keeping close to Natasha's side. 

Only four HYDRA agents remain standing when they finally surrender. The rest lie, unmoving, the smell of blood and sweat and burned skin filling the room like a sickly perfume. 

Steve sends Natasha, Tony, and Thor off with a nod, while he, Clint, and the Hulk stand guard. They have their own missions to fulfill. 

Tony and Nat find the base's command center, while Thor keeps going, muttering under his breath. 

He retracts his helmet, lets himself breathe. The air is stale and dank, reminding him far too much of Afghanistan for his taste. 

"Easy, Tony," Natasha says when she notices him hyperventilating. "We made it. We'll be leaving soon. We just need to find what we came for." 

"Right," he says. "Right." He came for SHIELD secrets; cover stories, mission files, safe houses, that sort of thing. It takes JARVIS no time at all to hack into HYDRA's system. 

As he's finishing up, he overhears Natasha say, "Oh, my God." 

Instantly he's on guard. "What's wrong?" 

As soon as he speaks, Thor comes back into the command center, his face grave. "There's something you should see." 

"But," Natasha begins. 

"I believe it might be related to what you found. Follow me." 

Tony doesn't know what he's expecting as Thor takes them down a series of hallways, the light growing dimmer and dimmer the further they go. He's not expecting a girl. At least he thinks it's a girl. It's hard to tell when their skin has been completely stripped off their body.

*********

Tony can't say he's paying attention during the debriefing. It's hard to when every time he closes his eyes, all he sees is pink exposed flesh. Thor had been looking for Loki's staff. They had let it stay in SHIELD's custody in 2012 and two years later were kicking themselves for it. He said that he tried to follow its magical signature, and it had led him to...that girl. Or what was left of her. 

When the debriefing is adjourned, he comes away with three things. First, someone ratted them out. Second, if someone ratted them out, then SHIELD was still compromised. Third, HYDRA was conducting human experimentation. 

It wasn't surprising, given their history. During the war, they had taken prisoners of war and conducted all kinds of horrific experiments on them. As far as he knew, only one made it out alive, if you could even call it living. James "Bucky" Barnes had survived HYDRA's experiments only to be subjected to a worse kind of torture. 

Seventy years and HYDRA was still the scum of the earth.

By the time Tony gets an all-clear from the medics, all he wants is to take a nice scalding shower, and he does just that. 

When he emerges from the bathroom, Tony can't say he's surprised when he finds Steve, still suited up, sitting on the couch with his helmet in his hands. 

Tony makes himself known, knocking on the wall. 

Steve's eyes flit up to meet his, and Tony's surprised to see that they're red. 

"Tony," Steve breathes his name like a prayer, and it's like someone's punched Tony directly in his chest. Every time Steve says his name like that, it always leads to something electrifying. Tony's eager to see him, eager to wipe the blood and the bodies of the day's events from his mind. 

He walks further into his living room, and Steve rises to meet him until they're standing chest to chest. Tony has to look up at Steve, but Steve's never held it over him like others. It should scare him, how small Steve makes him feel. But Tony doesn't feel helpless. 

If anything, he has the power to bring Steve to his knees. 

Steve's hands are on Tony's waist, and he's shot back to the first time they stood like this, close enough to catch each other's breath. That first time had been an exploration—an adventure in learning each other's bodies. 

Steve kisses him, hot and desperate, tugging at Tony's clothes. 

This time it's a reassurance. 

A fevered kiss—You're okay. Every fleeting touch a "stay with me."

Tony kisses him back. 

"We're okay," he whispers into Steve's mouth. 

"I saw you fall," Steve's voice cracks. "I saw you fall, and I couldn't do a damn thing to stop it."

Tony cups Steve's face in his hand. Steve closes his eyes, leaning into Tony's touch. When he opens them, his eyelashes are clumped with tears. 

"I'm alive," he says. "I'm alive, and I'm here with you. That's all that matters. You and me."

Steve shudders. "God, Tony, I need—I need—"

"I know," Tony says, and the next few moments are naught but a blur. They kiss again and make their way to Tony's bedroom, occasionally stopping to feel each other up or get rid of a piece of clothing. When they finally make it to Tony's bedroom, they're both down to their boxers. 

Idly, Tony realizes this is the first time they've messed around in an actual bedroom, especially his bedroom. 

Except when Steve breaks their kiss to lift him up by his thighs and walk them over to his massive bed...when he lays Tony down gently like he's something precious...it doesn't feel like messing around anymore. Messing around put him in the mind of two teenagers fumbling around the backseat of a car, desperate to get themselves off and themselves only. 

Don't get him wrong, the desperation was there as Tony wraps his legs around Steve's trim waist, but there wasn't a selfish bite to it. 

Steve Rogers is desperate for love. His entire body thrums with it, in the way he slips his tongue into Tony's mouth and grips one of Tony's hips in a harsh grip, hard enough to bruise. It's fine, though. Steve will kiss every one of his bruises later as penance. 

Maybe Tony shouldn't engage in such strenuous activity after another death experience, but he got the all-clear from SHIELD's medics themselves. If he sustains a concussion, that's on them. 

Tony's already hard and straining against the confines of his boxers. He can feel Steve, hard and leaking pre-come through the thin fabric of his boxers. 

They could come together, just like this, hell they have come together like this, but today is different. Today, Tony almost died again, and today Steve fought like a demon sent from hell for him and—

"Oh." 

Tony loves him. 

He's in love with him. 

It's no great shock to him, not really. There's no fireworks, no lightning strikes, just a subtle shift in his paradigm, like someone zooming out on a camera. 

Steve pulls back from their kiss to look at him, and Tony's gone. From Tony's penthouse suite, he has the perfect view of the sun in the evening. It's midday, and the sun, not quite setting, casts shafts of light into his room, catching the blond of Steve's mussed hair until it shines like hammered gold.

Steve has lifted the veil off of his face, and Tony can see the reverence in his gaze untempered. Tony's stomach clenches. He feels like an animal, like some feral beast has taken up residence in his skin, wanting to claim and be claimed. 

"This is how Steve feels. This is how he's felt from the beginning." 

He's not an artist, not like Steve, but he understands the appeal of wanting to capture a moment forever in all of its rawness. He wants to get some paints and canvas and immortalize Steve precisely as he is right now: wild and devout. To him. 

Steve's thumb traces the outline of Tony's mouth and pushes at Tony's bottom lip. Steve gasps when Tony parts his lips and takes Steve's thumb into his mouth. He recovers quickly, pressing his thumb deeper into Tony's mouth. The salt of Steve's flesh coats his tongue, but for once, Tony feels like the hunter. 

Steve's thumb becomes his pointer and middle fingers. Tony sucks them, lathing at them with his tongue until they're slick and glistening when Steve withdraws them from his mouth. 

Tony blindly grasps for the drawer of his nightstand, rooting around until he finds what he's looking for: a bottle of lube. 

He passes it to Steve, who flicks open the cap with his thumb. 

"Ah," he breathes as the lube hits his skin, all cool and wet. 

Steve's fingers, slick with Tony's saliva and lube, ghost around his perineum. He's thankful he had the good sense to shower beforehand, although he couldn't have foreseen this happening. Steve always caught him by surprise. 

Steve starts Tony out slow, with only one thick finger working its way inside of him. The stretch, while familiar, takes some getting used to. It'd been so long since he'd truly been with another man. 

A second finger joins the first, stretching Tony to the point of discomfort. In the back of his mind, Tony had always known that Steve's hands were big, but having them stretch him out was an entirely different matter. 

Despite his initial discomfort, his cock is still hard, dribbling pre-come onto his stomach. 

"Breathe for me, baby," Steve says, and it hits Tony then. This is the first time they've had sex. All of their other moments had been fleeting, full of fevered grinding and hot mouths and rough hands when they had time to spare. 

Tony's naked in front of Steve, and he's in love with him, and he doesn't know what's worse. 

"Hey," Steve says softly like he's comforting a spooked horse. "Breathe." 

Tony closes his eyes and does as he's told. Some of the tension leaves his body as Steve's voice washes over him. 

"You have no idea, don't you? How gorgeous you are?"

"Tell me," Tony finds himself saying. Steve's working his fingers in and out of Tony now, searching, searching…

It's getting harder to think straight. 

"I'd burn for you," Steve says. "I want you so much, I'm fucking dizzy with it." Steve twists his fingers, and Tony sees starlight behind his eyes.

Steve's fingers are relentless against his prostate, scissoring and splitting him wide open. 

"Do that again," Tony somehow manages to gasp out. "Fuck, Steve, please." 

Steve, bastard that he is, withdraws his fingers from Tony's entrance, and if Tony whines, that's between him and God. 

"I think I like you like this," Steve says instead, pressing his fingers into the meat of Tony's thighs. A shiver runs down Tony's spine at the hungry look in Steve's eyes. 

"A wolf closing in for the kill."

"Like what?" Tony finds himself saying. 

Steve tilts his head and runs a hand up Tony's thigh until he's tantalizingly close to cupping his cock. "Desperate. Wanting. Regardless of what you want to call it, I like seeing you as wrecked as I've felt these past couple of months."

Wrecked is definitely the right word. Tony's willpower is equal to that of a Jenga tower right now. One wrong move (or right one depending on who you ask), and he'll come tumbling down, and Steve will have to pick up his pieces. 

Tony's lips part when Steve takes him into his hand, a soft gasp escaping them as he spreads the wetness of his pre-come along his cock. Heat pools low in his belly, and Tony finds himself spreading his legs wider, baring himself for Steve to use however he pleases. 

"Are you going to wreck me?" Tony says. 

Steve's grip tightens on his cock, and Tony bucks up into his fist, his hands flying up to make contact with Steve's skin. "I don't want to wreck you," Steve says, eyes burning. "I want to worship you." 

"That's blasphemous, Rogers," Tony says. Worship. Like he's something pure. Like he's someone worth loving.

In the most shocking plot twist of his life, Steve Rogers, Captain fucking America, says, "Who the fuck needs a god when I have you?" 

It's a far cry from the "aw, shucks" wholesome Irish Catholic mask Steve dons, but Tony shouldn't be too surprised. This is the same man who got him off at the dinner table. And the shower. And the helicarrier.

There's still a part of Tony that thinks he doesn't deserve it, such utter devotion, such attraction (he won't dare call it the other word he's thinking of lest he get his hopes up,) but for what seems like the umpteenth time, he decides to ignore his doubts.

"This moment is mine. If he stays, or if he leaves, this will always be mine." He'll take whatever he can get from Steve with eager hands. 

Steve's hand reaches for the lube once more, the other jerking Tony off at an agonizingly slow pace until he's truly hard and leaking pre-come all over Steve's fist. 

Steve slicks up his cock, and Tony's toes curl at the thought of all of that going inside him. He wants it, though. He wants Steve like he's never wanted anything else in his life. 

Tony isn't new to desire or lust, but the need burning inside of him like a red-hot coal consumes him in its intensity. 

"Steve, please," he says, hating the desperate chord in his voice. "Wreck me, worship me, do whatever you want, just do something." 

Steve swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, and he nods. "Fuck, Tony. Okay." 

He lets go of Tony's cock, but Tony has no time to beg because he's lining himself up with Tony's entrance. 

Tony can practically hear his heart beating in his chest over the sound of Steve's steady, even breathing. Steve presses into him so slowly, so carefully like he's trying not to break Tony in half.

"Fuck that," he thinks.

Tony cants his hips up, teasing Steve's cock, and says, "I can take it. I want you to fuck me, Steve." 

Steve's hands clamp down on either side of Tony's hips, and Tony knows he's won this round when he sees the dark look in Steve's eyes. He plunges into Tony, fucking a sharp gasp out of him. Tony's not a virgin by any means. His playboy reputation is a well-earned one. But it's been so long since he's been full. Steve's only halfway in him, and yet Tony feels like he's in his stomach. 

"Is this what you wanted?" Steve asks, withdrawing slightly to add more lube. He pushed back into Tony, the lube squelching obscenely as his hips slap against Tony's. Tony's face, his everything, is red, but he'll take it. He wants it. 

"Yes," he says, wrapping his legs around Steve's waist, effectively trapping him. "I wanted you."

"You have me," Steve says, his voice hoarse and wretched. "You'll always have me." 

Steve tilts his hips just slightly, but the change in angle is enough to make Tony clench around him as his cock presses incessantly against that sweet, electrifying spot inside of Tony. 

They both curse, Tony at the change in angle, the lightning in his blood, Steve at Tony's sudden tightness, and Steve fucks into him in earnest. 

Tony's being unmade. He's unraveling at the seams like a worn-out sweater, and Steve's stitching him back together. 

Their skin is tacky with sweat and lube, and the clean-up will be awful, but Tony doesn't care as the reality of the day hits him. Tony almost died. He almost died, and he loves Steve, and he should tell him while he has the chance. 

Steve buries his head into Tony's neck. "I almost lost you," he says, his voice breaking. 

"You didn't," Tony gasps. 

Steve doesn't say anything, just presses into Tony harder, like he's trying to seep into Tony's skin. Tony throws a hand over his mouth to stifle his moans even though it's just them, but Steve catches his hand and intertwines it with his. 

"No," he says. "I want...I need to hear you." 

Tony's toes curl as he nods and lets the moans he was holding back slip from his mouth untethered. If anything, they spur Steve on. His bed squeaks with each thrust, and Tony can hear Steve mumbling under his breath, a litany of "I need you," and "So tight, so good," and "Stay with me." 

Tony should tell him. He should tell Steve he loves him, but something holds him back. He doesn't want Steve to think it was just a spur of the moment ordeal. He wants Steve to be sure that he loves him, that his soul has completely intertwined with Steve's, that they're one. It should be perfect. 

So instead of saying I love you, he just lifts Steve's head up to look him in his face. He loves seeing the utter desperation in Steve's face, the euphoria right before he comes, loves knowing that he was the one to bring him to such heights. He sees it now. Steve's on the edge, his hair falling into his eyes, his lips all red and bitten like a smear of blood. 

"Tony, I—"

Steve never finishes his sentence as Tony's tongue slinks into his mouth. Steve moans, kissing him back. One of his hands finds Tony's cock. Tony bucks into his fist, still slick with lube, digs his nails into Steve's back until they're both falling apart. Steve comes inside him with a muffled groan, filling him with a wet heat; meanwhile, Tony feels like his brain is leaking from his ears as his come spurts from his cock and paints both of their stomachs in white. 

When Steve's hand strokes his cheek and comes away wet, Tony realizes that he's crying. Steve kisses his cheeks and his forehead and his nose, and when he finally goes for Tony's mouth, Tony lets out the softest, "Thank you." 

Steve hovers over him. For a moment, Tony thinks he's going to say those three terrifying words. Horror and excitement alike send his stomach rolling, but Steve just says, "Anything for you." 

He's not sure if he should be disappointed or relieved. 

[that-damn-girl]

(1) Bucky and The Bed

Completed

Bucky and The Bed Masterlist 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (cis)fem!reader

Words: 5500+

Summery: You and Bucky are stranded in the middle of a snowy nowhere when there is an 'electronic blackout' during your mission. With no back ups or any way to contact your team, you take refuge from the worsening weather in the only cabin you find  in miles. Not to mention, with no power, Bucky's become your personal heater and there's only one bed.

Chapter type: Fluff, mutual pinning.

Chapter warning: Language, undressing (graphic), nudity(not graphic), NO smut in this chapter.

A/N: This is my submission for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan​ ‘s Merry Kismet Writing Challenge. Thanks for letting me participate! My prompt is, "There's only one bed". I took some inspiration from 'Spy Kids 2' and 'Charlie's Angeles'(2019). Hope I don't disappoint you and you enjoy it!

An unfortunate mix up of thoughts and words. A slip of tongue. It was a simple case of a slip of tongue, which created havoc in not only the building but also Bucky's life.

It was one of the few rare occasions when the entire team was around. Like a family, not by blood but by feelings and emotions. Though a few were lost to fate, some to distance, one to time, they stayed together. Available for each other, always there for each other. Loving each other, taunting each other. Helping each other, making each other stronger. Trusting each other, never to betray each other's trust.

You were one of them too, recruited when Sam was, the new Captain America, his other best friend and partner in crime. You helped Steve Rogers, the former Captain America, take down the parasite in S.H.I.E.L.D. Helped him get back his lost friend, fought the world beside him. Formed with him one of the few platonic relationships you knew you would cherish for life. Fought aliens, got dusted, and got back only to discover him gone to another century, without any chance of being recovered. A curse or a blessing, you were still to process.

Although hurt, the team was recovering. Together. New relationships were formed, old ones were mended. Some out of loneliness, some out of guilt. Some platonic, some not so much.

As the entire team was around, free of missions for a while, free of saving the world, free of helping build the lost world order, free of looking after everyone but themselves, they decided to have some fun. Drink and let loose amongst themselves. Be happy and make those around them happy. They decided on the forever classic, alcohol induced truth and dare.

They were a group of superheroes, some of them having been traveled to different planets even. It was safe to say they were daring. Very daring. So much so that hardly anyone chose 'truth', and the ones that did were bullied into taking 'dare'. More than half the group was composed of spies, assassins, and a mind reader. They knew more than half the truths anyway.

As the bottle spun, your age-old best friend's turn came. You dared Sam to twerk. A collection of oohs and aahs rose. Everyone wanted to know what the new America's Ass looked like in action.

"Aw, man! Don't you got something else?" He protested.

"Don't be a chicken, Sammy."

"Chicken, your ass." That was all the prompting he needed. He confidently walked to the center of the room, supported himself on his knees, and moved his hips in the sinful motion, jutting his ass out with some extra effort every time he went low. Oh, he twerked well, really well.

"Hey sweetcheeks, c'mon join in." and that was all the invitation you needed. None but he knew the true and raw magic in your hips. 

You went just as confidently and started twerking. You were the best of the best in this regard. The cheering you both received with your asses wiggling in the air was much more raunchier. You enjoyed the attention.

Bucky enjoyed the sight.

Bucky knew that things had become wild in the twenty-first century, but discovering that the obscene movements you and Sam did with your butts was accepted, enjoyed and encouraged openly was another shocking piece of information he had received. Not that he was complaining. If he had thought Sam did well, you were a whole another level of fineness in his eyes.

Enamoured as he was already with you, his eyes couldn't leave the enrapturing movement of your divine hips. He didn't understand how one could move their hips in such a flawless and mesmerizing manner.

He had meant to say, 'How the fuck do you do that?'. Somehow, he remembered that people today used 'do' as another term for 'fuck'. Somehow, the line re-entered his brain as, 'How the fuck do you fuck that?'. Most of his attention was on your hips. He was mostly unconscious of his thoughts at the moment. The end result?

"How do you fuck that?"

A pin drop silence followed. All eyes, wide and surprised, turned to Bucky. You and Sam stopped your ministrations and turned to him too. Bucky didn't understand why he became the center of attention all of a sudden. Until he did.

Oh shit.

A couple of days later, you and Bucky were sent on a last minute mission together. A group of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents needed some more help. Well, actually, a lot of help. Fierce and flawless, you and Bucky were equivalent to a mini-army together. Fury sent the pair of you in.

With your much needed help, the mission was a success despite the initial slim chances. The agents returned to the headquarters in their respective modes of transportation. Ever the diligent, you and Bucky decided to do a final sweep of the area before abandoning the site.

You were glad you did, because you both found a man not much later, seemingly your rival and half dead, tapping right and left furiously on a small white octagonal box. With a gun raised, both of you stalked towards him soundlessly. Before you could do anything as you approached him, with a single final push of his thumb, an almost invisible forceful wave rolled out of the white box, throwing you off your feet and pushing Bucky significantly back.

You thought you had passed out for a second there. You felt dazed and your eardrums stung, the silence around you deafening. You looked around, tried to blink the haziness out of your eyes but couldn't. Your limbs felt heavy. It was a difficult work to will your body to  switch to an upright position. When you did, you saw Bucky at his knees, examining the unconscious man. Feeling nauseous and dizzy, you slowly made your way to him.

"Dead," Bucky said, sighing in disappointment. You looked around yourself. The force blast hadn't really disturbed anything other than yourselves in your sight. You needed to know why the man had his last breaths spent on operating that box instead of trying to run away for his life. Why had it caused what it did? What were the effects?

Feeling an impending doom, you asked, "What was it?" 

Bucky shrugged. He turned towards the white octagonal box which laid half split, a few electric sparks coming out of it. "What is that?"

"Never seen anything like it before." You said, pressuring your still fazed brain to recognize it. Deciding to take it in for S.H.I.E.L.D. to look into and identify what it was, you held the split pieces in your hands and after sweeping the area one more time, made your way back to the quinjet.

You couldn't get the ramp at the hind side to set down. Usually, your voice activation was enough, but FRIDAY did not respond no matter how much you spoke. You tried to manually open it through the control panel embedded in the suit of your forearm but found out that it had shut down. You asked Bucky to do it, whose own control panel was in a similar situation. You tried to contact the headquarters with your comms. The comms were rendered useless too. "That's weird."

After you couldn't even open the doors by the well-hidden mini control panel outside of the quinjet, you panicked. Never had this happened before, neither were you ever prepared for a situation like this.

Any and every electronic item in your reach didn't work. Had one or few of your wireless gadgets malfunctioned, you would have understood the force blast had caused it. But this? It was total abandonment by the technology you and your life heavily relied on. And none of it worked. You failed to understand how it had happened. What would you call it? An 'electronic blackout'?

Oh shitty shit.

Accepting that nothing would come out of your futile attempts, you and Bucky decided to look for shelter in the crisp winter air and over the two feet thick snow covered grounds. Whichever direction you craned your neck in, you'd only see towers of dark bottle green leaves atop white grounds, a gloomy atmosphere all around with the sun resting behind the thick clouds.

You tried to remember if there were any safe houses where you two were stranded. Nothing came to your mind. Feeling defeated and lost, you and Bucky kept walking in the direction he thought you could find civilization and help.

In time, the cold was getting to you. Bucky was a super soldier, but you were only a human. The suits you wore were made of a material meant to keep you warm despite being not much thick. However, they weren't made for the extreme conditions you were currently in. Your ears were exposed to the much chilly winds which kept a constant inflow of tremors down your spine, and your gloves were fingerless. You didn't realize it then that your boots had loosened, possibly due to the same force wave which had caused this blackout, and melted snow slipped down to your feet, worsening your state. You were screwed.

Nonetheless, you kept walking with arms wrapped around yourself, shivering continuously. Though the serum made Bucky much resistant to the cold than you, he wasn't immune to it. He didn't shiver, but his body felt the bite of the cold.

He noticed your shivering. He noticed you slowing down. You were taking much smaller steps, just following him, the unease from the cold not permitting you to think at all. He reached behind and pulled you to his side, wrapping his flesh arm around you and rubbing the parts of your arm accessible to him.

After the slip up a couple of days ago, the team had teased both him and you endlessly. They were brutal. He had apologized to you several times after that and explained what he had originally wanted to say. Honestly, you were heavily disappointed he didn't really mean it. It was just a slip up and nothing more, no matter how much you wished it were.

Unknown to you, Bucky did like you, more than a friend, more than a confidante, but didn't want to jeopardize your friendship. After losing Steve, he valued his close friendships even more. So he stuck to being friends, just friends.

As his arm comforted you, you leaned into him, the tempting warmth of his body inviting you. You only nodded when he said, "Hopefully, we'll find something here. It's gonna be okay." Your shoulder rested on his chest as you both walked along silently. You trusted him, so you followed his lead.

You walked for hours it seemed until he heard a frail dejected whisper, "Hey, Bucky," his gaze swept over, concerned. Your eyes were closed, body numb. He stopped walking and turned to you, holding your face in his flesh arm only.

"Hey, Y/N! Y/N, look at me. You're strong. We're gonna be ok, hmm?  Tell me what's wrong, sweety." Your eyes were still closed, but you were consciousness. You felt tired, really tired. He hadn't realized that for the last few minutes, Bucky was only dragging your semi conscious body with him.

You somehow willed your eye lids to open. Squinting at the inflow of light, you took him in. He looked scared, very scared.

"I don't think I can walk anymore, Bucky. Tired, so tired." The cold had gotten to you. Hours of walking against the wants of nature had gotten to you , especially after the dizziness you felt from the force wave which had thrown you off your feet. You were extremely exhausted.

"It's ok, we're gonna be okay!" He repeated the same lines over and over again, rubbing your face and arms in hopes to induce some warmth in your body . "We're gonna find a warm place, Y/N. We just need some more time."

Bucky looked around frantically, hoping to find a good enough spot for you, but all he saw was snow for miles and miles ahead in every direction. He stirred you to a nearby tree and leaned you against it.

"Y/N, Y/N look at me." he caressed your cheek, "I'm gonna run ahead and find us a place real quick, okay? You need to help me. Stay here for me, alright? Do not move. Do not fall asleep. We're gonna get you to a warm place, and there you can rest all you want."

Leaving you against the tree, trusting you to stand upright and not fall into the snow, he went out in search of a hospitable place. Bucky swore he had never run as fast as he did that day. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears. The fear of something happening to you, of losing yet another friend, it did something to him. He thanked God for making him a super soldier, so that he could run as fast as he did. But then thinking of you, he damned God for not making you one, or so your life wouldn't have been in danger from such extreme cold.

After speeding through the thick layer of snow for miles, he found a cabin in a small clearing in the middle of nowhere, covered in snow all around. It definitely looked inhabitable. He climbed up the steps and was about to break the lock of the main door with his metal door but thought better of it. He looked under the door mat and above the door panel and found a spare key which opened the door. Idiots, he thought, but realised those idiots were the reason he had found shelter to keep you safe. Thanking his luck, something which he rarely did, he quickly ran back to fetch you.

Your limbs felt tied down to weights, your body felt numb and unresponsive. Your head ached mercilessly, and you shivered uncontrollably. Yet you leaned against the tree, fighting against yourself to stay upright. You didn't know if your were feeling sleepy from exhaustion or were slipping into unconsciousness from the cold. Either way, you tried not to close your eyes for long intervals.

Bucky found you in a much worse state than he had left you in. When he took a hold of your shoulders to drag you again, you gave out a soundless whine, only puffs of translucent white coming out of your mouth.

"Walk no more Bucky, no more." You couldn't walk anymore and you couldn't form a proper line either . Fearing your condition, Bucky panicked even more.

He put your hands securely around his neck, "Hold on tight, princess, okay? I found us a place. A warm place. Don't you worry , princess." He was more convincing himself than telling you.

You wordlessly nodded at him. He picked you up in his strong arms bridal style and jogged towards his destination, careful not to disrupt you much. Eyes closed again, your head lolled on his chest. You nuzzled closer to him, needing more of his warmth.

He looked down at you, eyes closed and brows furrowed, trying to keep the vicious cold out. You clutched onto him like your life depended on it. Well, it actually did.

"Just a few more moments, Y/N. Don't close your eyes, doll. C'mon, please don't." He knew he whined like a baby, but didn't care. "I need you to stay awake for me."

You wanted nothing more than to be in his arms and sleep forever, but the desperate tone in his voice compelled you to open your eyes.

"Not sleeping, Buck. I'm awake." you assured him in a faint whisper.

"That's like my girl, Y/N." He leaned down and gently kissed your forehead. It was just a small peck, but it warmed you up more that his body did. Moreover, he had called you his girl. Oh, if only he knew how much you wanted to be his girl. It caused your heart rate to increase, swarming your insides a little with butterflies.

You knew you needed to keep your eyes open and not fall into the grasp of unconsciousness. You needed a distraction from the cold biting at your exposed skin. As far as you could see, you only had the never ending white snow, dull cloudy sky and Bucky's beautiful face in front of you. The latter was something you could gladly focus at endlessly. So you did.

You took in every feature of his charming face, how his dark hair contrasted his now pale skin, how the endless white around him brought out the majestic blue in his eyes, how his lips looked deliciously pink surrounded by his scruff, how much he looked like an angel - your saviour, your guardian.

Bucky sensed you staring at him and gently smiled at you. "Almost there, doll." Yeah, you could be his doll forever.

As soon as he reached the abandoned house, he carried you through the already unlocked main door and set you down on the worn out couch. It was cold, and all the body heat which you had acquired from Bucky went into the comfortable but cold surface of the couch. However, you couldn't do much except lay down and shiver, your mind blocking out all of your senses. 

None of the electronics seemed to work, so finding the radiator was a lost cause. Bucky glanced at the fireplace. Fortunately, there were enough logs to last a day if he used them smartly. He immediately put some logs inside the brick structure and fired them up. He only allowed himself to relish in the heat after he put aside the center table and pushed the couch which you sat upon closer to the source of blissful heat .

You looked nearly unconscious, wanting nothing than to give in to the seduction of sleep. Sighing, he moved towards you. Taking your hands in his, he said, "Doll, I told you I'd bring you to a warm place, didn't I?" He slowly, affectionately stroked your hair. "I'm gonna get you some food and warm clothes. Be right back before you know it." He brought your hands to his lips and kissed each once with considerable force. You moved your head in the slightest, which he could only assume was a nod.

You both were lucky you found a place to spend the night in. Bucky didn't know the exact time, but sensed it would be dark soon, and one look at the window confirmed his suspicions. Now all he had to do was keep you and him sound and safe until you figured out what to do about the situation and how to get back.

He looked around the house for its resources. The house looked old. The kitchen cabinets were somewhat adequately filled for a short stay and there was a separate gas cylinder and stove. Sure some of the items in the there were expired and the cylinder felt more than half empty when he lifted it, but he could make do with them. He had to.

The kitchen was directly behind the living room, and there were only one other room in the house. A bedroom with an attached bathroom. He quickly rummaged through the closets he saw and pulled out the only two single blankets and some warm clothes he could find.

He carried them to your considerably less shivering form. He knelt down and lifted your legs to open your boots. Finding your feet totally soaked, he cursed and dried them with a towel he had found. A new wave of warmth spread through you as you watched him fret over you.

He needed to get you out of the half soaked jumpsuit you wore. His own was soaked too, but you were more important at the moment.

He took your hands in his once again, "Y/N, princess, you need to get out of this wet suit." He helped your reluctant form into a sitting position and placed a few of the warm clothes in your lap.

"I'll be in the other room while you change, alright?" He turned to leave but you caught his wrist in your hand in a vice grip. He looked down at it and then your face, your eyes fluttering in and out of consciousness.

"Can you do it for me, Bucky?" Your soft voice asked him. You were too spent at the moment to remove a wet, sticky and skin tight suit from your body. Neither did you have the energy nor the patience. Lethargy had already nestled itself in you.

You didn't like it at all. Not the part where your brain registered that Bucky would touch you in a way he hadn't ever before. You hated the part where you so helpless. You were a grown ass woman, not needing anyone's help in your self-made life. However, as the adrenaline had rushed out of your body long ago, you couldn't care moving anymore after resting your limbs. Besides, it was Bucky you had asked help from. Not some arrogant prick, but your sweet Bucky.

He looked taken aback by your request, but gulping, he gently asked you, "Are you sure, Y/N?"

You took a moment to deeply look into his eyes before answering, "Yes Bucky, I trust you." His heart swelled.

Trust. What a simple thing it was. Could easily be broken by the ones you had known and trusted for longest in the blink of an eye, but took years upon years to form and strengthen. He knew not many people trusted him, the Winter Soldier inside him, which had become just as much of a part of him as his metal arm. But you did, and he reveled in it, his heart beating joyously.

He nodded and smiled at you once before his hands reached your zipper at the front of your jumpsuit. He pulled it down slowly and carefully. As soon as he saw the hint of your cleavage and the starting bulge of your breasts, he cast his eyes behind you after a second of taking it in, no matter how much he wanted to divulge in the sight of you, but kept pulling the zipper down until it reached its end. He was not going to take your advantage in anyway. He'd only take you in with your permission when you were as conscious as the day and not in the half unresponsive state you seemed to be in.

He pulled you up and stared to slide the fabric, which seemed to stick to your skin, down your shoulders. You rolled your shoulders back to help him. Warmth seeped in wherever he touched you, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin not only due to the cold but also for another reason entirely. He moved down and dragged your skinny jumpsuit off your legs.

You wore a pair of panties and sports bra beneath the suit, without any clasps. You needed to remove any and all the wet clothes off of you. Bucky didn't know what to do next. You made the decision for him.

You grasped his head and forced his eyes on yourself, "It's okay Bucky. I trust you."

He nodded again, heart thrumming loudly as he took the sides of your bra in his hands, careful not to touch your breasts, and lifted it up and over your head, all the while looking at your eyes which fought to stay open. He would never ever take advantage of you, no matter how easy it would be. The initial resistance which he felt in the upliftment of your bra due to the swell of your breasts made him blush, but he manged to move pass it. He had undressed many dames during his time, but you were the first after being free from HYDRA.

You only had enough energy to push your panties down and let gravity do the work. You lightly kicked them and your suit away after they pooled at your feet. Bucky tried very hard not to think about the beauty in front of him in all her glory. Many thoughts invaded his mind, most of them sinful ones. His inner demons clawed at his soul to get just a look, but god forbid he ever acted on them. You trusted him, he wasn't going to let that trust go. He immediately grabbed a shirt and a pair of thick sweats from the couch behind you and made you wear them, eyes never once straying from yours.

After he covered you up in more layers, he made you sit down wrapped up in a thick layer of the only two blankets. He freed your hair from your ponytail, ruffling it a little for you. He quickly changed in the only other room and made a soup with the ingredients he could find. It tasted shit, but all your cared about was the heat it provided and the appetite it fulfilled.

He spoon fed you as you sat on the couch, wrapped up in the blankets like a cocoon, hands holding them tight around you. He would blow off the excess heat for you before bringing them to your lips, and repeated it patiently, affectionately. You appreciated it very much.

After having some for himself, he slouched down on the couch beside you, finally relaxing. You were more aware of your senses now, having recovered from the cold and exhaustion you had felt earlier with some food inside you now. However, your headache still persisted. You felt sleepy still, but not to the degree you thought you would collapse like before.

You looked at Bucky, who was under a few warm cloths himself but without a blanket, eyes closed and head rested on top of the backrest. You realised it was only one of the few times you had seen him truly relax. He looked really peaceful. Calm and serene, almost like a harmless baby. And oh so handsome.

Without any second thoughts, you shifted closer to him, snuggling into him. You repositioned the blankets so that it engulfed you both.

"You need it more than I do, doll." He started to untangle himself but you held him close, "Just relax and come here, Bucky."

Still stimulated from earlier, Bucky desperately tried not to think of the unintentional pun you used, or he'd soon have a situation going on downwards.

You knees were tucked under your chin as your entire body leaned on Bucky, your head and one of your palms resting on his chest, drawing random patterns. His flesh arm came up and pulled you further into his side as it circled around your shoulder and rubbed your upper arm. The motion so soothing and the warmth from not only the fireplace but also Bucky so alluring, you thought you'd enter the land of gleeful dreams right there.

You felt wholesome in that moment. Maybe it was because of the close proximity only, maybe something more. Whatever it was, you wanted to enjoy it thoroughly.

Nostalgia had hit Bucky when he was taking care of you. An unqualified nurse? Bucky was certified for that, courtesy to his scrawny blonde friend back in the day. He took care of you as he had for his friend. A sense of responsibility, worry, genuine concern, all had been there, but there was something more too. Something he couldn't pinpoint. He had felt something tugging at his heart. He didn't know what, but it did. It made him nervous and excited all at once, but he didn't know what to make of it as the two of you sat in silence for long, drowned in your own thoughts.

Soon it was dark outside, the fireplace the only source of light. The atmosphere chilled even further. As Bucky came back to his place after adding more firewood, you immediately wrapped your arms around him, not liking the brief inflow of cool air when he had moved. You buried your head deep into his chest as much as you could from your position. He laughed. 

"Hey, Bucky," he hummed in response. You leaned away a bit to look straight into his blue grey eyes.

"Thank you for everything." You wanted to say so much more, but you felt overwhelmed.

Cupping your cheeks, he turned towards you, "No doll, you don't need to thank me for that. I'll always take care of ya, you know that right?"

You covered his palms and said, "No Bucky, you don't understand. I was thinking, wondering what would've happened if you weren't there. If I were alone..." The feminist in you didn't want to admit it, but you knew that was the truth at the moment.

"I couldn't even walk throughout. You carried me here, took care of me, changed me, fed me. You saved me today, Bucky. You saved me. If not for you..." Tears welled up in your eyes as you opened your mouth but nothing came out of it.

"Shh, shh, no honey," He hugged you tightly, rubbing your back, "You're safe, you're fine."

You sobbed into his neck, "God, I feel so pathetic, Bucky. You had to take care of me like a baby. I am a grown woman, an Avenger, for heaven's sake. Have been for years. I should've been stronger than that. And now I'm crying like a child." Somehow, the realization made you cry harder.

You didn't know why it was happening, why you were crying so hard. You've had near death experiences countless times before. Hell, you were even dusted, dead in a way, and brought back. This wasn't much life threatening. You were safe. You were alive. Yet you continued grieving what could've happened but didn't.

"Hey, hey, doll," with one hand under your knees, Bucky took placed your sniffing form on his lap sideways. You head was still in the crook of his neck and his arms embraced you, enveloping you, keeping you away from any fears you had, any regrets you had. He rocked you fondly, his cheek on your head.

"It was the blackout Y/N, it wasn't you." He comforted you, "Y/N, this wasn't our mission. Your mission was to back up our agents and you did, you did it perfectly doll. This...this is something none of us know about. It's well below freezing temperature outside. You can't win against the nature, doll."

He rocked you and whispered soothing words until you had calmed down. You weren't sure why you did that. Bucky and you had always been close, just like you and Sam. You confided in each other, supported and comforted each other. If you ever did show your vulnerable side, it was only in front of them. But it hardly ever came down to this.

"Sorry Bucky, you had to see that," you pulled back a little to look at him. He wiped your tear stained cheeks with his thumb. His nonjudgmental eyes looked at you, an understanding smile on his face.

"Doll, it's okay. You've let it all out, it's good. You feeling alright now?" Although you still felt a little embarrassed by it, you mumbled out a small, "Yeah."

"Fuck the snow for snow for making you cry." You replied, "How do you fuck that?" You both laughed a little.

Lost in your eyes, his hand moved from caressing your cheeks to caressing your tender neck. You looked up at him but were unable to focus on any single feature of his. His eyes, so soft; his smile, so pure; his lips, so juicy.

You tucked a few strands of his hair behind his ear, your palm on his cheek. Bucky felt his heart dance around his chest. You leaned in to kiss his cheek, but he unknowingly moved his head following the descent of your eyes and you pecked the corner of his lips.

Unsure of what to do about it, you dropped your head in the crook of his neck, as if it were normal for friends to go around kissing the corner of each others mouth. It wasn't. But you thought that if Bucky had a problem, he'd say something. He didn't.

Bucky didn't know if he was more remorseful or thankful for not fully turning his face and having your soft, luscious lips right on his.

It was then when all his nicknames started coming to you. Sure, he'd use them, but it was rare. That day you had heard more nicknames from him than you had in the entirety of your friendship. Doll, princess, sweetheart, honey... Not having heard those from this man before, in his sweet yet hard voice before. It did things to you, made your heart pound faster, your core heat up.

It was also then that you noticed one thing other than his strong and broad thighs beneath you. You leaning into him, him feeling your breasts pressed to the side of his chest, him taking in your sweet scent, it woke his nervous system. Moreover, in rocking you, Bucky had also rocked the nerves down there, the stimulus encouraging an inflow of blood, making not only his penis hard but also harder to hide it from you.

He prayed to heaven's that you didn't notice. You did, but you tried to make no indication that you did. However, he understood from the way you stiffened atop him that you did notice it. He was convinced that you'd hate him now.

Feeling immensely embarrassed, he unceremoniously stood up and dropped you on the couch.

"Uh, I'll just, uh, I'll just set up the fireplace in the bedroom. It's been a long day." He wiped his sweaty palms on his bottoms and bolted out of the living room.

You were low-key in shock. You desperately hoped you made him hard, but your rational side told you it was just because of the physical contact. He'd be in the same situation even if it were somebody else. Your presence didn't really matter to him. The thought made you physically hurt.

As Bucky set up the fireplace in the bedroom, it then struck to his mind. There was only one bedroom, which meant there was only one bed. He glanced at the queen sized bed  bed behind him and then at his raging boner. Somewhere in the back of his head, he could hear Sam roaring with laughter at his predicament. 

He knew it was going to be a long, long night.

The divider is made by @writeyourmindaway​

Chapter 2

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A/N: Thanks for reading! There is going to be lots of soft!bucky cuddling and pinning in the upcoming chapters, I don't live in a place where it snows and I don't really know how people hold up or how the houses actually are in such places. Sorry for the inaccuracies you find. Good or bad, your feedback is always welcome!

[softbiker]

Steve Rogers Oneshot

Warnings: some strong language, mention of super soldier butts

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Steve Rogers takes a coffee break. It’s good to try new things.

A/N: This is a continuation of Extra Whip - so I recommend reading that first in order to be familiar with who the reader is! It takes place in the same universe as @kentuckybarnes​ Agent 28 and @nacho-bucky​ Agent 41, with permission from both :) At the moment, my plan for these two is a series of one shots; connected by characters and certain events, but not a strong overarching plot. Let’s keep it fun okay? (Can’t believe I’m posting this before I’ve had my coffee but hey, I’m excited). Enjoy! 

A month goes by.

In missions, gunpowder grit beneath his fingernails; in Stark Foundation fundraisers, his bowtie digging too tight at his neck; in karaoke nights - and avoiding karaoke nights, sneaking up to the roof with Bucky for a smoke. Somehow the habit crept back in, between the two of them.  Deeper than muscle, it’s a bone memory - shoulders pressed together on a fire escape, nostalgic for nicotine and other things that won’t roll into cigarette papers. No one knows about their little habit, except for maybe Nat - who cares less about their upstanding reputations than everyone else, and she’ll even share a pack every once in a while. Steve marvels at cigarettes now, the way he marvels at everything that should’ve killed him before he became a miracle. 

So February passes. He eases up on Health Food Reform, satisfied that the good habits seem to mostly stick. 41 continues to slurp on her spinach milkshakes during briefings, and it brings out his big brother smile every time. Every time he wonders who might have made it for her. 

March blusters in with excessive force, with the wind whipping storms on every front and a crisis on every continent. For the first two weeks of the month, Steve doesn’t set foot at the compound, shuffling between safe houses and sleeping on the quinjet, his neck aching in complaint. The team forgoes their long-anticipated weekend retreat to Tony’s cabin in Aspen in favor of a terror attack in Johannesburg. 

“Man, I was not made for this kind of heat,” Sam mutters, tugging at the harnesses of his uniform as sweat streams down his neck and into his shirt. 

“You would’ve been in the hot tub in Aspen, anyway,” Clint teases, taking stock of his quiver, his words slurred by the bubblegum in his mouth.

“Yeah, with a couple of snow bunnies, that’s for damn sure,” Sam bites back, shoving his goggles into a side pocket on his tac pants. 

“Focus, Sam,” Steve sighs over the comm. He’s got eyes on them - opposite rooftop, approximately 100 feet above the epicenter of the chaos. “The sooner we wrap this up, the sooner you can sit in a jacuzzi with your rabbits.” 

Tony’s laughter over the comm line is so loud, Nat has to remove her earpiece for a full minute. 

“What?” Steve turns to Nat, bewildered. She’s got a white streak of dust in her hair. “What? What did I say?” 

She just shakes her head, taming the curl of her lips with a click of her tongue.

“Nobody tell him,” Tony insists, his voice still a wheeze. “Jesus, I am gonna hold onto that for weeks. That’s going in the digital scrapbook - F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“Already saved the audio file, boss.”

Steve just hangs his head, resigned. No chance of living that one down. 

Hours later, they pile into the quinjet in beleaguered pairs, Clint propped on Sam’s arm, 28 with Natasha - both dusty and bruised but no major injuries, followed by Wanda and 41, with Tony bringing up the rear. Steve takes stock with a keen gaze as they trudge up the ramp into the jet, Buck slouched in the seat beside him, his flesh fingers blackened with gunpowder. More than 10 hours on the ground, with thousands of safe civilian lives to show for it - but no arrests had been made, no suspects found, no bad guys to put away. Not today. A stalemate, which Steve hates. He loathes the ambiguity, the loose ends of this job, the way the world can just never stay safe. 

A knee jostles against his own, and he looks over at Bucky; he’s got one eye cracked open, narrow window on a sky blue gaze peering back at Steve. 

“You good, Rogers?” he mutters, lazily rolling his jaw. 

“Me? Yeah, Buck, I’m fine.”

“Uh huh. Well quit grindin’ your teeth like that.” Bucky sighs and lets his eyes slip closed again. “The one thing your ma never had to fix, those damn perfect teeth.”

It draws a dull, tired smile, just like he intended, and Steve elbows Bucky in the ribs - the two of them exchanging a couple of tired blows, before settling into their seats, pressed against each other shoulder to knee, like they’re still trying to fit in a foxhole. Steve takes a little of Bucky’s weight as he leans over to let 28 pass them and settle into a seat across the aisle, buckling herself in and sending a tired smile their way. 

He accepts a Starkpad from Tony as he passes by on his way to the cockpit. A swipe of the screen reveals a face - a white man, late 40’s, dark hair with white streaks at the front. Nothing noticeable about him otherwise. Beneath the face is a name: Israel Hayes. He stands and stalks his way up the aisle of the jet, careful not to disturb any of his sleeping teammates as he follows Tony. The Iron Man suit dissolving back into the nanite housing unit on his chest, Tony is left only in a soft black shirt and pants - he looks vulnerable, small, when Steve leans into the cockpit, his shoulders crowding the space. 

“This our guy?”

“Seems like it. F.R.I.D.A.Y. cross-referenced his known aliases with similar activities in Europe and Asia - but he’s good. Never shown his face good.”

“Not even on CCTV?” Steve quirks a brow.

Tony shakes his head, lips pursed. “Nope. My guess? He’s got some kind of algorithm like the one SHIELD instituted for our agents in the backseat. You know how we never know what a SHIELD agent looks like?” He gestures towards the passengers with his thumb and Steve nods. “Same thing. As soon as his face is captured on a camera, his server finds it and scrubs it clean.”

“That possible? For someone who’s not SHIELD?”

“If he’s got the connections it seems like he has? Then yeah.” Tony huffs out a breath. “Not that I’m worried - F.R.I.D.A.Y. has found smaller needles in bigger haystacks.” 

Steve just nods, staring at the man’s picture on the tablet in his hands. 

He stares at that tablet for days - at briefings, at the picture, at news headlines, at the picture, at a Buzzfeed article comparing his butt with Sam’s and Bucky’s (sent in a text attachment by Sam, accompanied only by the peach emoji), and once more at the picture. 

He stares at it till he sees the man’s face behind his eyelids, till he could sketch it on a napkin without looking. And he does, actually, by accident - in the margins of his notes during a security briefing with Fury, he glances down to find his fingers tracing the deep set of the man’s eyes, the dark shadow of his brows. Algorithm or no, he won’t be able to hide forever. 

It’s the algorithm he’s thinking of as he continues to take his notes in the meeting, the sketch staring up at him in stark blue pen; there’s another face he wanted to look for, more than once he’d decide to search the SHIELD records, before changing his mind - just opening his browser and poising his fingers to start the search has him feeling like a damn creep. Like the internet stalker in that show Wanda was obsessed with. His ma raised a gentleman - there’s no way he was gonna be that guy.

The next morning, Sam begs off on their run, and Bucky is mysteriously absent from his room when Steve knocks, so he goes for his run alone. It’s not so bad - he’s got a fancy pair of headphones that Tony made last Christmas, and he loves watching the sunrise over the city. He even turns and crosses the bridge into Brooklyn, making a lap through Prospect Park before looping back towards Manhattan. Not so bad. Good, even. Really, really good. 

He slows down and stretches in front of the tower, propping his legs up on the bench out front and massaging his calves. There’s a little bit of a burn, but it melts at the pressure of his fingers, and the pleasant kind of soreness settles in. The kind he’s enjoyed and lived in since his body became sturdy and strong and decidedly anti-fragile - he’ll never say it out loud, but he still gets a little thrill when he manages to break a bone or dislocate a shoulder, goosebumps of pain shooting down his spine as he pops them back into place with a grunt of satisfaction. 

Hand hovering over the biometric scanner, he’s about to go back inside, take the elevator up to his room and hit the showers, when he sees someone at the crosswalk just a block down. 

Pink hoodie - huge, practically a dress - with a denim jacket tugged over it, bare legs trailing down into white combat boots, a backpack slung over one shoulder. She spares little more than a glance at the cars along the street before striding forward, nose turned up and arms crossed in a way that’s so New York it makes him do a double take. That early morning pout, tired eyes, like she’s not totally awake yet. Her steps firm and determined in those heavy boots, she makes a beeline for the green siren across the street, never once glancing his direction. 

It’s the first glimpse he’s had of her in a month. 

Not for lack of trying, but have you seen his schedule? He’s barely been stateside at all for nearly 3 weeks. Not to mention that one of Tony’s interns is always eager to volunteer for a coffee run, and he’s not sure what he would say, a good reason for him to insist to go by himself. 

With a glance at his phone - not due for a meeting for 3 more hours - he takes a deep breath and marches down the street, hands in his pockets, shoulders tucked. Less threatening to the passersby, who notice him, but say nothing. They’re in his neighborhood after all. 

A bell chimes above the door when he walks in, and the same “Welcome to Starbucks!” greets him, but he’s only half-listening as he scans the cafe. She’s at the register, chatting with the barista there who hands her a steaming white mug. 

“Ugh, thanks Chase, you’re a lifesaver,” she sighs, taking a sip. 

“Hey, it’s all part of the job,” the barista jokes back, adjusting the cap on his head. He’s noticed Steve hovering 3 feet back, waiting his turn, and his eyes switch between Steve and the girl in front of him rapidly. 

Their conversation ends, and the girl - the agent - takes her coffee to sit at a small table by herself, close to the windows, far enough back in a corner that she has a view of the whole cafe. Which she scans now as she sits, noting the two regulars in the opposite corner enjoying their customary flat whites, and…Captain America.

Interesting. 

She waits - he knows she’s waiting when he approaches the table, and she pretends not to know that he’s walking directly towards her, nose still tucked down towards her book, one hand poised at the handle of her coffee mug. 

He clears his throat. 

“Good morning,” she smiles when she looks up, the light from the window back-lighting her eyes, and the glow stuns him. “Haven’t seen you around for a while.”

“Haven’t been around,” he shrugs. Are his cheeks hot? He gestures towards the chair across from her. “You mind if I sit?”

“Not at all,” she shakes her head. He slides into the seat and she replaces her bookmark, setting the book aside. Valley of the Dolls. He’s not familiar. 

“Here for your morning Cappuccino?” She quirks her eyebrows as her smile stretches, just shy of goofy. Quite proud of herself. 

“Ha ha. Never been a big fan.”

“No?”

He shakes his head. “First thing in the morning? I like a dark roast. Something to really wake you up, you know?”

“Hm,” she muses. “Sure, I understand.” 

“What about you?” 

“Me?” 

“Your coffee, I mean. You, uh…like coffee?” Smooth, Rogers.

“Oh, yeah. Love coffee.” There’s a laugh behind her smile, and he wishes she wouldn’t hold it back. “Here lately, I’ve had a thing for tall blondes.”

The flush on his cheeks inches down his neck.

“Huh?”

“Tall blonde Americano to be specific - you should try the blonde espresso, it’s really good.” She takes a sip of hers, hiding her dimple behind the mug. “And I always add an extra shot. I like ‘em strong.” 

God, even his ears are red, he knows it. The hell did he think he was gonna do when he came in here anyway, sweep her off her feet? He’s never been that good with dames, not even-

“I’m only joking-” she cracks up a little, giggling. “Sorry, the opportunity was too good, I just couldn’t resist.”

He sighs in relief, offers an embarrassed smile, and manages to relax a little in his chair. 

“So…why are you here? Really?” she lifts an eyebrow, leaning one elbow on the table. 

“Well…” and here it is, here goes nothing. “I thought - that is, I wondered, um, if you…might want to…get to know each other a little better.” Ouch. Thank God Bucky is nowhere near here. 

“Get to know each other?” 

“Yeah. Just, I mean, as friends.” 

“Huh.” 

Steve’s smile is sheepish, but it’s the one that always worked on his mother, and it seems to work on her. He can see the suspicion melt from her eyes, the interested quirk of her mouth as her fingers tap against the table. 

“I’m flattered and all, really, but you should know that virtually everything you could want to ask me about…my past, my qualifications, my education, my current assignment-” she lifts her hands in a helpless gesture. “It’s all classified. Probably above even your clearance.” 

“Classified?”

“There’s a reason why we never met, Captain.” He takes comfort in the fact that her smile is a little rueful. 

“Oh.” He sits back in his chair, a thoughtful frown on his lips. Looks out the window at passing traffic as he thinks. 

“Alright, then - how about a recommendation?” he turns back to her, eyes lit with curious confidence that catches her off guard. 

“A recommendation?” she repeats, bemused. 

“Coffee,” he grins, like it’s obvious, a wry quirk to his brows. 

“Coffee,” she echoes again, chewing her lip as she returns his smile. 

“Yeah - I always get the same thing,” he shrugs, eyes dancing. “Figured maybe I should branch out.”

Something she can tell him. Something they can share. 

A quick glance at her watch - 20 minutes before she has to clock in. 

“Alright then.” She stands from her seat, cracking her knuckles. “You wait here - I’m gonna pop behind the bar and make you something.”

He watches as she crosses the cafe, rounds the bar and gets to work whipping up…something. The steamer hisses as the milk is foamed, espresso grinding, and he can see her reach for some kind of syrup to pump into the cup. It only takes a minute or so before she’s done, returning with the cup presented triumphantly to him. The name “Cap” is scrawled on the front of the cup. 

“What is it?” 

“Just taste it first.”

The burst of caramel sweetness on his tongue nearly makes him gag - it’s a lot, whatever this drink is. It’s practically a dessert. Not bad, but he’s not sure how anyone could drink this in the morning. When he says so, she laughs out loud, head tipping back and mouth wide open. 

“I make those for 41 all the time,” she grins. “It’s not an official menu drink - I invented it for her.”

��Yeah I can see this being her drink.” 

“Oh, and when you go back to the tower, will you take her these?” She hands him a pastry bag. “I know they’re her favorite, and we had some that were about to expire.

He glances in the bag - two cookie dough cake pops and one birthday cake.

“I guess it’s not just Clint that spoils her, huh?” 

Across the table, she just smiles and shrugs. 

“I’m just here to make coffee.”

He takes another sip of the sugary concoction. 

“Sure.” 

[flyingblackhawk]

Fun Taser Time

Avengers fic (Nat & Tony)

1,859 words

-

Los Angeles, 2011

“You should add gloves.”

Natasha looks up. Tony hasn’t said a word to her since they arrived at the makeshift debriefing facility Fury’s set up in downtown Los Angeles.

“What?” she asks.

“Gloves,” Tony repeats, not looking up from his phone. “For the- what do you call them? The electro-bracelets. Happy told me what went down at Hammer’s factory.”

Natasha looks down at her wrists. “SHIELD calls them Widow’s Bites.”

Tony scoffs. “Of course they do.”

“So,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “Gloves?”

“Mmm,” he says. He looks up. “Are they heavy?”

She shrugs. “Sometimes. Depends which ones I’m wearing.”

He leans forward, and she can see that he’s genuinely interested. She unclips one gauntlet and tosses it to him. Tony examines it.

“Did you come up with the idea?” he asks.

“Sort of,” she says. “Originally one held a line and compact grappling hook, and the other shot darts. SHIELD kept the look but traded the poison for electricity.”

“Projectiles?” he asks, still turning the bracelet in his fingers.

“Taser discs,” she says. “That one holds six, the other holds four.”

“What’s the charge like?”

She shrugs. “SHIELD got the wear time up to nineteen hours. Had to commandeer a couple of car batteries, but mostly that’s enough time to do what I need to.”

Tony tosses the weapon back to Natasha. She catches it, and clips it back onto her wrist.

A door opens, and an agent steps out, motioning for Tony to enter.

“Gloves,” Tony calls as he walks through the door. “Think about it.”

-

New York, 2012

The dust is still settling as the team eats. The owners of the little restaurant seem happy enough for the superheroes to stay as long as they like.

“How’s the battery working out for you?” Tony asks, through a mouthful of shawarma.

“Great,” Natasha replies. She holds up a gloved hand for him to see. “Still not empty.” Tony doesn’t smile - none of them have the energy for that - but he looks satisfied. Natasha has a lot to process after battling aliens all day, so she adds Tony’s fascination with her gear to the list.

“You know,” he says, after a while, “you could probably make the grappling hook even more compact.”

She leans forward, elbow on the table. “You think so?”

He nods. “Just depends what material you use. I’ve been playing around with different cables, and with a smaller hook I think you could reduce the size by half.”

Natasha finds herself oddly touched that Tony has spent time thinking about potential upgrades for her sake. “What kind of cable are we talking about?”

“I had a friend at MIT send some carbon fibre prototypes she’s been working on,” Tony tells her. “I’m thinking maybe a nylon composite.”

She nods. “We could move the garrotte wire into the right gauntlet to make room.”

“How do you guys have the energy for R&D right now?” Clint chuckles. The rest of the team give tired groans in agreement, and Natasha flips her partner off to tired laughter from the others.

“I’ll text you,” Natasha promises Tony.

-

Avengers Tower, 2014

“Hit it again.”

Natasha skips another disc down the gallery. It connects, electricity arcing over every inch of the dummy.

“Nice,” Natasha says.

“The new model holds twelve discs per gauntlet,” Tony says. Natasha knows him well enough now to hear the hint of pride he’s trying to mask with nonchalance.

“Which of the discs do you think we should go with?” she asks. Tony casts his eye over the table, laden with twenty different prototype taser discs.

“I like number seventeen,” he says. “And not just because it looks like an arc reactor. That was a coincidence. Maybe.”

Natasha laughs, and picks up the disc. “Alright. Seventeen it is. How about the power cell problem?”

“Still working on it,” he says. “I keep hitting the wall at the corner of charge time and weight. I’ll get there.”

Natasha goes to answer, but her phone buzzes in her pocket. She pulls it out and reads the message. When she looks up, Tony seems to know that fun taser time is over.

“Where to?” he asks.

“D.C.,” she sighs. “STRIKE team needs me. Something to do with a ship.”

“Need a ride?”

She shakes her head. “Rumlow’s already sent one. It’ll be here in half an hour. Thanks, though.”

By the time she’s geared up and ready, Tony has loaded the gauntlets with discs. He hands them to her as they take the elevator to the roof.

“You’ll have to make do with the prototypes until I can get production running on disc seventeen,” he says, and it almost sounds like a genuine apology.

“I’m sure I’ll make it work,” she tells him. On the roof, he waves her off as a SHIELD quinjet lands on the pad. She gets in, and is surprised to find that she feels a little sad to be leaving.

-

Washington D.C., 2014

As Natasha leaves the Senate Office Building, cameras flashing all around her, she sees a sleek black car roll up at the curb. She forces back a smile of relief, and pushes through the reporters. She opens the door and gets in, and the car pulls away from the flashes and shouts.

“You look pretty calm for someone who just dared the government to arrest her.”

She scoffs lightly. “I should have known you’d be listening in.”

Tony shrugs, not apologetic in the slightest. Natasha lapses into silence, watching the road through the window. The gravity of what she’s done in the last twenty four hours is not lost on her, nor is it lost on Tony. She can sense his discomfort, and she knows he won’t be able to summon a comforting word, but that’s never been his style anyway.

“How did the discs go?” he asks, eventually. Natasha has to smile. This has become their routine, and a substitute for any uncomfortable conversation.

“Seventeen’s still my favourite,” she tells him. “And I owe you several drinks for increasing the capacity. I needed every single disc.”

“Saving your life, one tiny taser at a time,” he smiles. “I’ve been thinking about some sort of blasting capability.”

She frowns. “What, like a stun gun?”

Tony nods. “For mid-range combat. I figure it gives you a halfway point between hitting someone directly with the gauntlet or launching a disc.”

“How much more power would that take?” she asks.

“A lot,” he admits. “But I’ve got a new prototype I’m working on. It’s going to take a couple of months at least, but I think I’ve hit on a solution to the power problem.”

“Seriously?”

“I never joke about tasers.”

She laughs, and for a moment she feels all the weight lift off her shoulders. Even with the world turned upside down, Tony is a constant, and she’s grateful.

-

Avengers Tower, 2015

“I’ve got a present for you,” Tony declares in a sing-song voice.

“What did I tell you about calling me before seven in the morning?” she yawns. She’s already up anyway, and it’s always fun to start the day with taser practice in the lab. She dresses, and heads down to the R&D levels, stopping only on the lounge floor to make two cups of coffee. Tony is in the lab he’s dedicated to developing gear for the team. He’s currently at a long bench that has become his permanent work area for Natasha’s weapons.

“Morning,” she says, and hands him his coffee.

“You’re going to love this,” Tony tells her. He grabs a case from under the table and unlatches it, swivelling it around to reveal a full suit. Natasha raises her eyebrows.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, pointing an accusing finger. “I got the measurements from one of your spare suits.”

Natasha pulls the suit from the case, and lays it out on the table. Quietly delighted, she traces a finger over what seems to be black piping. As she touches it, the piping glows a bright blue, and she watches the light spread all over the suit, converging at the wrists.

“What is this?” she asks. Tony is grinning, obviously pleased with himself.

“Power cells,” he says. “Thousands of them, all over the suit. More than enough to equip you with two compact blasters plus a new grappling hook and a backup clip of six discs on each thigh, underneath your holsters.”

“This is amazing,” she says, running her hands over the smooth material.

“That’s not even the best part,” he says. He opens a drawer and produces two gauntlets. He hands them to her, and motions for her to put them on. She does, and he’s practically bouncing with glee.

“Okay,” he says. “Do as I do.” He brings his right hand up to his left shoulder, and then throws his hand back down in a quick movement. Natasha imitates, and in an instant a baton shoots out from her gauntlet. She grabs it out of reflex, but it’s connected to her wrist. She grins, and raises it up to inspect it. It glows the same blue as the piping in the suit.

“Hit the dummy,” Tony says. Natasha acquiesces, and strikes the dummy. Electricity crackles, and the much-abused dummy is blown off balance and crashes to the floor. Tony claps, though she’s not sure if he’s applauding her or himself.

“This is going to be fun,” she grins.

-

Avengers Facility, 2015

Natasha knows it’s not forever, but it still feels strange to be saying goodbye to Tony after everything they’ve been through. The wounds of Sokovia are still fresh for both of them, and she thought he’d at least stay until they can find Bruce. But Tony will do as Tony wants, she knows that. Besides, she and Steve have their work cut out for them here.

“I’ll miss you,” she says, looking around the lab.

“You’ll have plenty to do,” he reassures her. “And our monthly lunch date still stands.”

“Burgers in the R&D labs doesn’t count as lunch.”

“You’re wrong, but I’ll miss you too.”

She can see the guilt in him as clearly as she recognises it in herself. For a moment, she is tempted to ask him to stay. But this facility is not the place for him now. He’s talked about settling down somewhere with Pepper, and she can understand the draw of a life like that.

“Keep me updated,” she says, as she walks him out of the lab. “I’m going to need an upgrade on the baton power.”

“And I’m thinking more cells on the suit,” he says. “We’ve still got work to do, don’t you worry about that.”

Natasha smiles. “If you ever want to blast stuff with tasers, you’ve got my number.” She kisses him on the cheek, which leaves him looking surprised. They hover for a moment, as if they’re about to hug, but that’s never been their style.

“I’ll call you when I’ve got something new for you,” he says.

“Promise?” she asks.

He smiles, and it’s tired, but genuine.

“Promise.”

[foxcub02]

The New Avengers: Broken World Part 3

Chapter 5: Can't be contained

《WARNING, WARNING, WARNING》

*I've got to make my move, and fast*

Sirens were booming through the fortress, who had broken out, WHY had they broken out and what were they after, soldiers running around, guns in hand ready to hold the escaped convict at gun point when they clash, who knows when that might happen, of if they would do it at all, who knows, they might've already gotten to them first.

The officer, inventory control, quite young, must be his first few days here, he's nervous they can sense it, well he is held at gun point after all I mean...who wouldn't be, especially when your life is in his hands right now.

"My mask...and fur coat, if you please. That is if you would like to keep your life." The officer tries to keep his cool as he asks.

"M-m-may I have a name..sir?"

"Really?" He chuckles "you really don't know who i am?" He looks the officer in the eyes and puts his weapon down "Zemo...Baron Zemo, if you will"

"I shall g-g-get your things...right now" the officer quickly shuffles to the lockers, each one labelled with different cell numbers, the metal rusted, labels fading away, its surprising that the labels can still be read. He opens the locker '2187' and pulls out a purple ski mask and a very stylish fur coat.

"Best Regards" Zemo chuckles and slips his mask on and throws his coat around him as he walks off pulling a detonator out of his pocket and turning around one last time, stood by a hatch that he now kicked open. "I shall also bid you farewell, мой друг" he jumps down the hatch and seals it pressing the detonator.

¬ мой друг means "my friend" in Russian

"Hey Buck, I don't think your buddy is around here any more" Sam flies over the Raft...or well, what was left of it, from where Sam was it just looks like nothing but rubble and flames. "I don't know how, but he escaped, clearly this was his doing we didn't have anyone else there that's that maniacal"

"No signs of any hints that could show us how Sam? " if all else fails, Bucky might know a place where Zemo could be lurking but he was hoping that he would be wrong in that case.

"Negative, where do you think he will be?" there was a little bit of worry in his voice, like he might have an idea where he would've went.

"I hope he's not going where I think he's going Sam" he stops for a moment while he looks out over the horizon. "Wakanda"

Hours Later, Elsewhere on the Globe

Music booming, bright lights, colours lighting up the sky...this didn't seem like Wakanda, this is Madripoor, and Zemo's place of hiding.

"I love your coat" a black haired, petite woman strokes along the fluff of his coats collar, then runs the finger onto his face and lifts his chin a bit to make direct eye contact. "But I would love it even more if it was off" she lets out a flirty giggle while biting her lip.

He keeps constant eye contact while letting a smirk rise on his face. "You really think you can handle me? but you're a sweet young woman, I couldn't possibly make you crave me more than you already do" he's looking so smug into her eyes, knowing she's moments away from just having him right on that chair.

"You're pushing it Mr" she says while caressing her hand across his face while letting out another flirty giggle.

"Oh really? then lets head somewhere private and maybe you can get your request, the coat may come off darling" he says while brushing his thumb across her cheek and then lips before doing what ever criminal does best, steal. Steal a kiss from her red, glossed lips. keeping them pressed passionately against his, then leans back out "You taste sweet, I take it you accept my offer? let us go to my private quarters and let me taste you more" he smirks again at her, looking straight into her eyes.

Before they could even properly stand up something crashes through the ceiling, the music stops and there's dust everywhere, screams of panic arose before a figure stands up within the dust, nothing but a shadowy figure stares Zemo down before he tries to make a run for it, pushing people out the way stumbling over the others that had fallen due to the fright. Before he could make it to the door Bucky kicks it open, crashing into Zemo knocking him down at the feet of the shadowed figure. he turns around to look at the figure.

"Going somewhere were we?" the figure starts to look more clear with the dust finally settling.

"Stand down Vision" Bucky walks into the room and picks Zemo up by his collar and makes him stand. "You have some nerve...." Bucky's expression didn't exactly show his irritation but his tone certainly did.

"I have no business here Mr Barnes, I just merely want to lay low, live my life without trouble" he looked a little smug for someone in range of The Winter Solider. "You spared me, you seen that I can have a quiet life and remain hidden from the world" he drops his smug look "If you really wanted me dead, you would've done it yourself."

Bucky takes a few steps towards Zemo before Vision gets between them "That's not what we're here for Mr Barnes, If the Avengers are spread out then we will need all the help we can get"

Bucky stares into visions eyes before looking back at Zemo "Walk before I make you" he turns and walks out the door. Vision getting behind Zemo to make sure he walks ahead.

"Where's the new Captain?" Zemo says with a hint of more smugness towards the situation.

"I sent him to Wakanda, I needed to make sure you either A: wasn't there or B: don't step foot near there, being in Madripoor was my next shot but to kill two birds with one stone and get the best results of finding you I asked Sam to fly over to Wakanda, meanwhile I found Vision floating around looking for everyone. he explained how he's alive but not like its of any importance to you." He meets Sam outside that let him know about a major problem. something is tearing through New York City and without the Avengers the world was going to be ripped apart, through every version of space time itself.

"We need to hurry, Strange is already waiting for us to return, without the Avengers now he has no one to help sort out these Avengers level threats" Sam had the Wakandans help to make new and improved Quinjets, a Sleek black look with purplish glows for the engines. Similar design overall though.

"Do we know the cause?" Bucky shouts over the jets of the ship as they board one by one.

"No clue so far, we need to liaise with Strange to find out more." Sam sits at the wheel, ready to take off "Next stop New York City."

To Be Continued...

[penpatronuswhump]

WHUMPTOBER 2020

No. 1

Fandom: Avengers

Whumpee: Steve Rogers

Caregiver: Tony Stark

Title: TORTURE, TRICKERY, TACOS

By: PenPatronus // PenPatronusAooO 

The single light hovering above Steve’s face winked at him like they were sharing some inside joke. A thick layer of dust covered the top of the glass bulb and little bits of it rained down when the approaching footsteps shook the tiny operating room and the bed he lay in. Steve sighed, lips flapping. He tried, again, to break through the Vibranium ropes covering three-quarters of his body like mummifying cloth. He couldn’t move.

“Would save my strength, if I were you,” the mad scientist advised, entering the room with a needle. “You haven’t eaten in a week.” He leaned over Steve’s restrained body and grinned with tobacco-stained teeth. “Ready for the next round?”

 Steve eyed the needle. “Next round?”

 “We’re almost up to one hundred attempts,” tobacco mouth told him. He smiled with the confidence of an expert poker player. “But you wouldn’t know that.” He sighed and rolled the needle between two fingers. “Got the paralysis figured out, got the memory erasure, now I just need to figure out how to control your body movements.” The needle pierced Steve’s neck and it felt like a bite more than a prick. Heat flooded his veins, clawing. The doctor yanked the needle back out and put it on a metal try nearby. “How do you feel?”

 Steve glared at him. “I don’t know what it is you’re doing, but it’s not working. I’m not paralyzed, and I remember… I remember…” What confused Cap the most wasn’t the fact that he had no idea who his captor was, or how he ended up in the tiny dark room. What confused him the most was that he was so damn hungry. He knew he’d had a big lunch of tacos, so why was his stomach growling and cramping?

 “My memory is fine, and I’m not paralyzed,” Steve declared.

 “Really?” The doctor’s eyes gleamed under the pale yellow lightbulb. “Look down.”

 Steve did. The Vibranium ropes were gone.

 “What the hell…” He looked back up at his captor. Was the man wearing different clothes…? Cap tried to sit up, tried to punch, but the only parts of him that could move were his mouth and his eyes.

 “My buyers,” the man said, “want a super soldier they can command like a robot. They want to be able to control your body – make you kick when they want, punch when they want, kill when they want.” His breath stunk and Steve’s face would’ve scrunched up in disgust if he could move it. “I’m doing you a favor, really, controlling your memories, erasing the memories of the horrors you’ve committed. Your sins.”

 “Horrors?” Steve whispered. “Sins?”

 “Look at your hands.”

Steve obeyed. He gasped. Blood that hadn’t been there a second ago covered his hands like paint. “What – who – who did I kill?” Steve whispered, horrified.

 The doctor shrugged. “Would you like the list of names in alphabetical order, or in the order you killed them?”

 Steve’s empty stomach rumbled. His forehead felt hot and his eyes felt wet. “Who?” he whispered.

 “It was impressive, really. You tore his suit apart like it was made of cellophane.”

 “No…”

 “He begged you to stop, to come back to yourself, to see him.” The doctor rolled his eyes. “Pathetic.”

 “Not him,” Steve whispered.

 The doctor’s face flushed with glee. “When you ripped his throat out with your bare hands – oh, I’ve watched the security footage a dozen times. It was brutally beautiful.”

 Steve closed his eyes. “Tony…”

 “I’m here, Steve.” a new voice responded from some corner of the room beyond the light’s reach. The doctor gasped, whirled around with a knife suddenly in his grip, and threw the weapon. The knife hit something metal. Steve recognized the sound of the impact. And then the doctor’s body was launched across the room. He struggled back up to his feet and grabbed another needle off the tray. One second before he stabbed the needle into Steve’s neck, a metal hand intercepted it. Light burst, and the doctor crumpled to the floor with a hole in his shoulder.

 The Iron Man helmet retracted into the suit’s collar, and there he was. “Sorry I’m late,” Tony said. “We’ve been looking for you nonstop all week, I swear, we just didn’t find a clue until today and I got here fast as I could – Thor’s right behind me and the others are in the Quinjet and I’m sorry, I’m so damn sorry, Cap, that you were here so long and that, dammit, I – why are you looking at me like that?”

 The look on Steve’s face resembled confused shock, but beyond that. “I didn’t kill you,” he confirmed. “You’re alive.”

 Tony looked his friend up and down. “What did he do to you?” he growled when his eyes landed on the section of Steve’s neck that was undoubtedly dotted with needle marks.

 “Lied to me. Took my memories. Paralyzed me… Probably stole my credit card…” Steve swallowed hard. “I…” he croaked, “I… I’m really hungry. For tacos.”

 Tony gave him a half-smile. “Let’s get you home so Bruce can look you over.” Tony gently lifted his friend up into a bridal carry and sidestepped through the door. “What the hell is that smell? Did that guy dip your hands in red paint?”

 The End

[kashimos-hajime]

immeasurable firsts | s.r.

Summary: All your firsts with Steve Rogers and all the heartbreak and happiness that comes with it.

A/N: For the writing challenge hosted by the fabulous @imhereforbvcky and the wonderful @justsomebucky. 

Dedicating this to @wxntersoldiers because I still have to write for her and I hope this’ll make up for how late I’m gonna submit it in! (I’ll get to it soon!!!!)

WARNINGS: Swearing, blood, violence, death, extreme angst but some happy stuff too.

Word Count: 11.6k Pairing: Steve Rogers x Stark-sister! Reader Prompt: The most ridiculous part of this whole situation is that I love you.

Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. Four easy words to describe Tony Stark.

You, on the other hand. Genius, billionaire, philanthropist all fit. Playboy? Perhaps. You prefer socialite. The paparazzi has always had their bite at you but that doesn’t mean that none of it is true.

You are Y/N Stark, younger sister of one Anthony Edward Stark, one certified pain in the ass, and one big brother. He was basically everything you had ever since your parents died. He raised you. He was your dad, and mom, and brother all at once, and you know that no one could’ve done it better. From what you know and what Tony tells you about your dad, you’re better off.

But your mom… you miss her every day.

On a full-ride to MIT just like him, you succeeded him in every way, graduating summa cum laude just like him, but while he did it when he was seventeen, you did it when you were eighteen. He always held that fact over you, but not after you mentioned that while he hacked into the Pentagon for a dare, you hacked into the Harry S. Truman building for fun. State department had a field day with that one.

As Stark Industries head of Research and Development, you occupy all of four floors and helped more than 12% to make Stark Towers the first building powered by self-sustainable clean energy, but you’d let your brother take all that credit if it meant your brother gets some with Pepper.

“Ma’am, Agent Coulson is on the line. Mr. Stark deferred him to you.” Swiping the holoscreen to close it, you look up from where you’re working on new schematics for your suit.

“Tony’s in.”

“Mr. Stark insists on refusing the call, and Agent Coulson insists on seeing him.”

Rolling your eyes, you pull up another holoscreen that linked you to the surveillance feed. Switching through the cameras, you swipe for Tony’s private elevator. You spot the agent standing outside the elevator, texting away on his phone and you turn on your mic with a smile.

“Hey, Phil,” you greet and the agent looked up, turning to the camera.

“Ms. Stark.” He gives you a little wave and you straighten up, putting your stylus away and turning off your tablet. Moving the surveillance feed to your phone, you walk to the couch you had in your office, sitting down and pulling your laptop on with you. Opening it up, you log in. “If you could ask your brother to pick up the phone, that’d be a great help.”

“You know Tony doesn’t listen to me.” Opening up the files Tony had sent you earlier, blueprints for Stark Tower and the grocery list for next week, you roll your eyes at the note at the end. ‘Pep said it’s my turn to do nothing for a whole week,’ it reads. Your fingers work away on your keyboard as you return your attention to Phil. “I’m going to disable J.A.R.V.I.S.’s protocols and give random people access to his private elevator because he’s annoyed me just now. You do whatever you want with that information.”

“Thank you. And you might need to join me, Ms. Stark.”

“Is it something important? Because my consulting hours don’t normally run this long. Also, I thought I said I didn’t want anymore S.H.I.E.L.D. assignments.” Tapping away on your keyboard, you have the elevator doors open and bypass the A.I.’s protocols.

“It’s urgent.”

“When do I ever care about that?” you retort. The call ends and you get up anyway, glaring at your phone. With a heavy sigh, you slip the device into your pocket before looking at the few holo screens you have open around the office. The levels of the reactor are stable, and you watch as they fluctuated, readjusting every once in a while.

“J.A.R.V.I.S., shut the place down. After I go see Tony, I’m heading home.”

“Of course, Ms. Stark.”

You live essentially next door to the tower, and it isn’t important for you to bring anything home, so you grab your keys and purse before leaving your office of glass doors and walls and windows. The lights turn off behind you as you jab the elevator button, ready to head up to say goodnight to Tony and see what Phil Coulson thought was so urgent.

.

The Avengers Initiative.

And they thought Tony was a good fit?

“Volatile, self-obsessed, don’t play well with others,” you recite as you read over the files in Tony’s penthouse on the top floor of Stark Towers. “If he wanted the better of the Starks, he would’ve chosen me,” you tease. Tony sighs, wiping a hand over his face and you frown. Sigh in that tone means frustration, exhaustion, and he’s feeling overwhelmed.

“What is it?” Looking to see what’s caught your brother’s attention, you swallow and get up, walking around the couch to touch the hologram of the thing that your father had found instead of a man. “The Tesseract,” you whisper, suddenly finding your mouth very dry. Blinking, you twist the hologram around before pulling back. Your father had been obsessed with the thing. Hell, he probably loved it more than he ever loved the two of you. Your brother’s pulled back, too, arms crossed as his dark gaze flickers over the other portfolios.

“Some crack team, huh,” he mutters but your eyes can’t tear away from the blue glowing cube. Your dad always talked about it — well, it and Captain America, who happened to be in one of the portfolios, but you can’t help the nagging feeling that the cube is better left in the ocean where no one can find it. After all, they wouldn’t have to drag your brother into this mess if it was.

“Tony,” you call out when your brother moves for the bar. He pulls up a bottle of scotch and silently asks if you want a drink. Shaking your head, you bite your lip and gather what nerves you have left to ask the question. “Should I be worried?”

There is no answer.

.

“Hey, how was it?” you ask when Tony returns to the Helicarrier. The suit decompresses and you smirk, arching a brow. “Get the bad guy?”

“Yeah, and a plus one. Oh, uh—” Tony turns to the other guys piling out of the Quinjet. The clanging of chains catch your attention as S.H.I.E.L.D. agents swarm the jet, escorting the prisoner out. Loki, you realize. Following him is a tall blond and an even taller blond, though the taller one follows after Loki. Thor. Had to be. Your brother gestures to the two— “the rest of the crack team. You talk to Banner, yet?”

“Not yet. They told me he was down in the lab, but I was working on my suit. I’ve a new set of schematics I wanna try out, if you have the time.”

“You only made a suit to copy me,” he teases and you nudge him playfully. “Yeah, sure. If we have time, after the world finishes it’s self-destruction, or whatever, we should take it out for a spin.”

“Thanks, Ant.” He sighs at the nickname but you squeeze his arm, watching him go. He needs to get that suit off, and you need to get that decryption implant on the motherboard. If Tony’s going into this, he isn’t going into it blind. Anyone who’s working with the Tesseract, especially an organization like S.H.I.E.L.D., wouldn’t use this for clean energy. And you’ve worked missions with them before. You know that eco-friendly energy is the last thing on their mind. Howard Stark may have wanted it for clean energy, but if an intergalactic war is being had…

You put a pin on that train of your thought as your gaze drifted back to the armory. The shorter blond nodded to you with a smile, and you put on a fresh face for Steve Rogers, World War Two Hero, actual soldier-type with a cute smile. Tilting your head, you walk up to him and stick out a hand. In your heels, you could’ve tried to be as tall as him but his presence adds two inches to his height.

“Captain Rogers, honor to meet you.”

“Steve,” he amends as he quirks an eyebrow. “And you are? Sorry, it’s been a whirlwind couple of days.”

“Y/N Stark,” you say, shaking his hand. He’s warm and his blue eyes fix on yours as you take in his features. He’s even cuter up close. “And no problem. Not everyone can spend their time as a Capsicle.”

“Your brother made the same joke,” Steve says as you begin to walk down the hall with him.

“He only got the chance because he met you first.” Heading down to the briefing room, you glance at him to find him staring back. Arching an eyebrow, you wait until he notices and a brilliant blush spreads across his cheeks, but you smirk, brushing the hair away from your face and leading him to the room where your brother is waiting.

.

After the Battle of New York — that’s what the news is calling it, you call it an inconvenience — the dust settled to reveal the true damage of it. There’s a lot of rebuilding to do, specifically the area around Stark Tower, which means a lot of money is needed to repair downtown New York. Of course, the best way to get the rich to donate money is a charity ball, and the fact that it’s able to be doubled as a celebration ball makes Tony absolutely gleeful. You, on the other hand, would rather be anywhere but here. The destruction caused in Stark Tower has given you nothing but a headache and whilst Tony and the Avengers had gone for shawarma, you’d suited up to begin lifting the rubble and seeing the true damage underneath the whole ‘saving the planet’. Which you can respect, by the way, but you didn’t want to test out the new suit by lifting up heavy concrete and wires.

Now, all you want to do head back, take an Advil, and sleep the day off. Whilst the Avengers had decided to steal the show, you never said a thing about how Tony literally flew into a fucking wormhole.

You still need to yell at him for that one. Maybe cry. And hug him. For a long time.

“You need to relax,” Tony mumble through his smile as the three of you gathered your bearings to get out of the limousine.

“You need to stop making us late,” you retort. “And wormhole, remember? You’re still in for it.”

He sends you a sheepish smile, his eyes pleading apology, but you ignore it, stepping out. Pepper holds onto Tony’s arm to get out, whilst you pick up the edges of your dress, a brilliant scarlet dress, with a slit up the side of your leg and elegantly pull yourself up.

Adjusting the gold cuff on your wrist, you grab your gold clutch and shade your eyes against the flashes. Tony and Pep are already walking through the paparazzi, up the stairs to the venue for the Avengers, the cameras snapping away. Used to it, you tuck your hair behind your ear to showcase your outfit. In scarlet and gold, you shine under the flashes.

“Ms. Stark!” one of the photographers call out and you pause, striking a small pose before continuing on. The tire screeches behind you signify another arrival and you turn with a small smile, wondering who it could be. The black car’s window slide down, revealing a star-struck Steve Rogers and he steps out, squinting against the flashing lights. Raising a hand in half a wave and half a means to block the light, the super-soldier’s gaze dart across the scene before landing on you. You extend your hand to him, smiling. He speed-walks over to you, grateful for a friendly face and he offers an arm for you to take, escorting you inside.

“I’m glad you got out safe,” you begin, tucking a curl behind you ear as he focuses on getting up to the stairs. You throw a wave to the crowd, before adding, “I was maybe a tiny bit worried about you. More so about Tony, but then I wonder why.” You pretend to tap your chin in curiosity and he chuckles.

“I’m flattered. And you’re beautiful,” he mumbles under his breath, cheeks red but you can’t tell if it’s because of you or the cameras. Smiling softly, you press your head against his shoulder for a moment before lifting it again to look at the soldier. “I dunno if anyone’s told you that yet.”

“No one that matters,” you tell him and you pause to kiss his cheek. His shy smile makes you smile wider, the endearing expression on his face causing warmth to spread through you. Cameras take snapshots of your moment and you internally sigh. There comes one of the cons of being a public figure. You have no doubt some stupid hashtag like #Rogerstark or, you don’t know, #Ironcaptain, will be trending on twitter by the night’s end. “And you look good, too. Real good.”

“Uh,” he chuckles, blushing and you laugh. “Thanks.”

“Overwhelmed, yet?” You climb the steps, using Steve’s hand to steady yourself before he opens the door for you. You hold his hand to bring him in and the pap calls after the two of you even when the door closes. If he’s gonna give the press content, you might as well have fun with it. Even if he doesn’t mean too — he’s just being the gentleman he is.

“A bit, yeah, but not by the cameras.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. You don’t know if you’re insulted or not. “By me?”

“In the best way. Gotta impress the most gorgeous woman in the room,” he promises and you hold him to that promise. “I’m sure the cameras will get worse, too. But you seem to be doing just fine,” he says and you chuckle. Patting his arm, you lead him, following the signs that say This Way or something of the variant.

“I grew up going to this kinda stuff. I’m used to it by now. But if you keep being you, the press is gonna eat you up.”

“How do you mean?”

“You’re a real gentleman, Rogers,” you sing. The foyer is filled with tons of guests, some drinking while others are eating some nuts or chips, and there’s an open door leading to the white carpet. Of course, they’re waiting for all the Avengers to go on first, and you can hear the anxious muttering of the paparazzi outside the room.

“I don’t see how that’s a bad thing.”

“Well, people like prying into other people’s lives,” you continue and he nods. His gaze darts across the room just as a server comes by with a tray of champagne. Disentangling your arm from Steve’s, you take two. “Steve, I’m just saying, the paps love to make speculations about Tony and I. Sometimes, it’s the only thing keeping them open, and a lot of people don’t like the attention, the stalkers, the fans.” Offering the champagne, you give him a forced smile. “A lot of people don’t wanna stay because of it.”

“What if I want to?”

“What?” You nearly let out a laugh but Steve looks totally serious as his gaze catches yours. They’re darker, more intense, but there’s still that sense of light to him. Like he’s having fun getting the shock out of you.

“I said, what if I wanted to stay? I’m an Avenger now. Might as well get used to it and I think we’re stuck with each other.”

You drain your champagne, blink, and then stare at him as if he’s grown a second head. “I have no illusions on being a celebrity, Y/N. I’ve had a few experiences of my own, and it may be a bit different from back then, but I know.”

“It’s a lot different, Steve.”

“Maybe not so much.” He takes your hand and the champagne, leading you to the side of the room where there are small high tables where people can stand and chat over food, and he places his full flute and your empty one on the tablecloth. “Y/N, I’m just saying, let the press eat it up. We know what we are.”

And what’s that? you wonder helplessly as he says that they should get to the carpet. Tony and Pepper have already started, and Steve visibly recoils. Looping your arm through his, you send him a reassuring smirk, if possible.

“You might have to squint, Cap,” you whisper nefariously and he sends you a roll of his eyes as you put on your celebrity face. It hides your inner turmoil well as you kill over Steve’s words. With the most handsome man in the room on your arm, you send smolder and smolder whilst the soldier tries to ease into his smiles. It’s easier once you get him laughing at your jokes, and it’s hard to imagine you’d ever dreaded going to the event at all.

.

To say you and Steve see each other over the next few years would be an understatement. Seeing as how you are in Washington occasionally, flying back and forth for work, the Triskelion is one of the few places you’d actually get excited to see once in a while. You’re actually in Washington when Steve’s called away on a mission. Sitwell’s called you in for an emergency consult. Well, he called Tony. You picked up the call. And what you came to was Nick Fury’s deathbed.

The image makes you shudder.

Suiting up, you propel yourself out of your Washington flat and fly towards the Triskelion. At night, Washington looks like any other city, breathtaking and alight with life. The Washington Monument’s glow casts its base in warm light as you fly over it, slowing down to admire your view and postpone going to the Triskelion. Ever since Steve knocked out the S.T.R.I.K.E. team in the elevator, you’ve been feeling like there had to be a reason.

Your reflection in the water is barely visible except for the glow of your repulsors, eyes, and arc reactor, and you float above it, the squirming feeling in your stomach ever growing.

Why do you have the feeling just like the one before the Battle of New York?

A number you don’t recognize calls you, but you pick up anyway, having A.N.A encrypt your location just in case as you fight off the feeling. Tony’s safe in New York — as safe as he can be fixing up the quarters for the Avengers who still drop by from time to time. Just one night of consultation, and then you’re back there with him, eating microwave dinners and working on new things.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Steve? Where are you?” Shaking yourself, you continue on your way to the Triskelion just as his voice echoes in your ears again.

“Sam’s. And you need to listen to me.”

“Are you okay?” you ask despite yourself. You haven’t seen him since the hospital, and if you’re honest with yourself, you kinda miss him. Plus, he wasn’t looking too great when you’d left.

You hold his hand, stepping closer as he stares at Natasha’s back. The red-haired woman’s head is bowed to hide her tears and you look to Steve. His eyes stare back at you but he doesn’t truly see you as you wrap your other hand around his arm, resting your head against his shoulder. He squeezes your hand tighter. You simply close your eyes and press your cheek against his jacket as your fingers interlace. He looks down, and you raise your head to see what he’s looking at.

A silver USB lies in his hand and your eyebrows knit together when you look at the make. S.H.I.E.L.D. made. When he catches you staring, however, he shoves it back into your pocket. A silent question that he ignores lays within your eyes.

“I didn’t want to leave the hospital so soon, but consultation couldn’t wait on the pumping problem,” you continue, diving into the water surrounding the building as your suit readjusts the air pressure and you turn on your headlamps. The water before you filters out the moon as you dive deeper.

“It’s fine. I just wanted to check up with you.”

“Why? ‘Cause I’m heading underwater and the slightest malfunction of the suit could kill me?” you ask, initiating the lights in your repulsors. Steve lets out a sigh of a laugh quietly on the other end as you squint, making out the shape of the pipelines.

“You made that suit, Y/N. I know it won’t,” he replies, but he sounds tense and you make yourself redirect the conversation. Your HUD emits a gentle light as it does a preliminary scan on the pipelines.

“Thanks, Steve. So… where are you now? I mean, now that you’re on the run.”

“That’s what I’ve got to talk to you about.”

Pulling up, you frown. No leaks and the Stark Industry sustainable filter is running flawlessly. You’d installed it yourself, along with the other convertors along the lines. Turning off your mic, you raise your arm.

“A.N.A., can you run a scan? Sitwell said it was in this area, and I’m not sure if I’m being delusional.”

“Of course, Ms. Stark.” The repulsor gauntlet shoots out a grid of blue light, a bar of blue scanning the pipes as you work your way down the whole area. Resuming your call with Steve, you clear your throat.

“Sorry, Steve, what is it? Is it about why you gave Rumlow the black eye he deserves?” you joke.

“Y/N, S.H.I.E.L.D. has been compromised.” Your heart stops. Maybe you are delusional.

“What?”

“Whatever you do, don’t take another assignment from them. You need to leave D.C. now.”

“Steve, I—”

“There is an unknown object approaching your vector.” A.N.A.’s warning interrupts whatever you were going to say, and kick starts your wired brain. You twist around, all sources of light shutting off at once with a quiet whir. Letting yourself sink, you steady your breathing and turn on your night vision just as something explodes right next to you. It sends you tumbling, your head rattling in your suit as you spin in the water, trying to regain your sense of up and down.

“A.N.A., find the source!” Managing to stabilize yourself to a stop, you shake your head. Something’s trickling down your temple, and there’s a familiar ache in your arm that was closest to the blast. You still can’t hear well aside from the ringing and you strain to hear.

“Already on it.”

Y/N, what’s going on?” Steve asks but his voice crackles over the line and you wince, trying to ignore how grating it is on your ears as blue shapes are highlighted on your HUD. Submarines by the looks of it. S.H.I.E.L.D. warships armed with missiles, mines, and torpedos.

Fuck, really? In the Potomac? You have no time for questions like that, though, and with every second you waste sinking to the bottom, it’s another second feeling like the water’s going to seep into your suit and asphyxiate you. Another missile launches towards you and you swerve out of the way, letting it land in the riverbed.

“I was in Washington for a consultation on the Triskelion’s pump system,” you whisper. “Fucking great that they’re compromised now, huh?”

“Engaging boosters.” Your ankles lock together, you press your hands against your sides and look up as you propel yourself to the surface. You’re a great white beacon of light and heat now that you’ve given up all hope of defeating war subs in your mechanic armor. “Missiles fired. They’ve tracked your infrared signature, ma’am.”

“Y/N?” Steve’s voice cracks the comms again as moonbeams begin to break through. “What’s going?”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. subs are on me. Five. Shit!” A missile strikes your foot and you let out a yelp as the booster fails. Veering off, you try to get back on course. “Targeting system. They know all the weak points of this suit. Fuck! My booster’s down.” Swerving out of the way of another swarm of missiles, you run diagnostics on your failed repulsor node just as A.N.A. gives out another warning that another barrage is incoming. Your heart beats in your throat, blood dripping over and down your neck, and you try to unscramble your thoughts. S.H.I.E.L.D. is attacking you. S.H.I.E.L.D. is attacking you. Holy shit.

Tony’s going to be so pissed.

“Can you fire back?”

“It’s my repair suit. It’s not meant for battle. I didn’t think I’d get attacked by fucking S.H.I.E.L.D.!” The second barrage nearly gets you and you let out a breath of relief when they all whiz past, only for a bigger cruise missile to slam into your side. Infrared tech on a cruise missile with diamond nibs. These are war-grade, way above anyone’s pay-grade and slice through your suit like it’s soft cheese. It digs into you and you let out a terrified gasp.

It’s a small explosion, granted, but it no doubt shatters your ribs and blows something apart inside you. Ears ringing, you scream over the sound of A.N.A. giving you a status report on the suit, but over your own hoarse voice, you know that water’s surging into your suit, your ribs are shattered, and you’re probably going to die. A.N.A. quarantines the water, sealing you from the neck up as you frantically touch your wound. Your A.I. has already dispatched the emergency lock, your second skin of armor spanning over your abdomen and binding your insides together.

“Injuries?”

“Shattered ribs, multiple third-degree burns and massive internal damage.”

“Communications?” you wheeze, trying to breathe but your lungs struggle against the ribs that float around in your chest cavity as you clutch at the wound. A.N.A. had been as fast as she could, closing over the wound as soon as she detected it, but dirty, freezing river water still got in. It laps at your wounds, soothing the burns and washing through your insides simultaneously. Melting from the inside out, you suck in your scream and blink, trying to ignore the tears streaming down your face as you pray for the adrenaline to kick in.

“Offline. They’ve scrambled the frequency.”

“Unscramble it! We need to tell Steve he needs to get out of here and tell Tony what’s happening. I’ll focus on the staying alive part.” Although sobs tear at your throat and blackness dots your vision from the pain, you squint through your tears to look at the HUD. A list of systems that are offline continue to scroll down the side as the water begins to pick up, pulling and pushing you in all directions.

“Y-Y-Y/N? Can you read me? Hey!”

“Still alive, yet, Cap,” you manage to say, redirecting all energy to your one working foot. “Come on, come on.” Every movement is sending agony rushing down to your chest and it’s like the water pressure presses down into your chest. Even breathing is getting difficult as a knot forms between your lungs. Heaving for air, you begin to speed up to the surface. Water streams down the sides, bubbles popping and foam disappearing before your eyes. Suddenly, beeping begins out of left-field.

“They’re sending more cruise missiles, ma’am. Without your other repulsor node, you won’t be able to outfly them.”

“But I’m so fucking close!”

“It won’t matter, Ms. Stark. They’ve locked into your heat signature and this suit does not have the capability to lower or mask your in-suit heat output.” A.N.A.’s words make you blink and you let out a desperate sigh, your breathing coming ragged as the water closes in on you. Your vision blurs, and for a moment, your head dips forward before you snap open your eyes. “I’m sorry, Ms. Stark.” Your A.I. sounds so fucking crushed and she’s already grieving and you regret coding in emotions because you want to cry, and not because of the pain.

“It’s not your fault, A.N.A.”

Blinking, you try to calm yourself down but it’s all coming so close. Your helmet can’t protect you for long, you’re going to die, you’re going to die, you’re going to die—

“You’ll send a message to Tony? The message?” you ask and the world stops. The startling realization that you might truly die here in the Potomac slams into you and you nearly let out a scream at how fucking unfair it is. Ribbons of tears track down your face, and you compress yourself into a compact slip of armor, hoping it’ll give you that chance to outrun it, but you know that it won’t. You graduated from MIT, just like Tony. Your big brother Tony. You know the math. The beeping gets louder, gets faster.

A watery smile appears on your face, your lips trembling as it crumbles away and you openly sob. Your face is hot and you breathe in hot air, and you need to breathe. Oh, god, you’re gonna die of asphyxiation before you die of your injuries and everything’s closing in on you—

“Of course, Ms. Stark.” You take comfort in A.N.A.s voice and confirmation, trying to pull what’s left of you together.  “Thank you.” It’s just within reach, but the beeping in your ears tells you the missiles are closer. They’re hot on your trail and your faulty booster has no intention of coming back soon. Remembering your call, you swallow whatever tears you have left and ignore the ache in your throat. Everything hurts, but nothing so much as the pain one can get from knowing what they’re leaving behind. “Steve?” 

Crackling, and then a thick voice comes on and you know he’s crying too, “I’m here.”

Your eyes reflect the moon’s beams, and you can only see that beautiful full moon surrounded by so much darkness, and you wonder if this is what Tony saw up in that wormhole. The light at the end of a tunnel. You swallow, nod, and tell yourself that you can’t feel the pain anymore. The adrenaline in my body’s numbing it, you reason to yourself. I’ll die from my injuries before I can get to a hospital, so there’s no point in feeling it. The beeping becomes insistent, but you don’t look back. If you don’t look back, maybe they aren’t there.

“Ms. Stark…”

“It’s okay, A.N.A. You did your best.” Clenching your jaw, you try to make sure your next words can be made out. They need to count, you need him to hear you loud and clear, and he seems to sense this because he begins to whisper these nothings meant to make you feel better, or to stall you. You hope it’s to make to feel better. 

Because it works.

“Steve, when I die, tell Tony that… that I love him, and he deserves so many things in this world. Tell him, tell him he is the best brother I could’ve asked for, and—“

“Hey, Y/N. You’re gonna outfly those rockets. You’re the best damn pilot I know. So, stop talking like you’re gonna die.”

“Steve—“

“Y/N, it’s gonna be okay. It’ll be okay, doll, you’re gonna be just fine, and then you’ll come over to Sam’s, and we’ll be on the run together.” Steve’s voice cracks and it damn well near breaks you as the A.N.A. goes radio silent. The HUD turns off. She’s conserving energy. That can only mean one thing. “Won’t that be fun? Huh? We’ll be… what was it that was trending after the 2012 gala? That hashtag…”

You let out a noise that’s somewhere between a sob and a laugh as your eyes close. “#Ironcaptain and #Starogers were both trending,” you remind him. His voice is soft and hoarse, and exactly how you imagined him in the mornings. You’ll never get to fucking see him again. Fuck. Life. Fuck. You.

“That’s right, doll. You’re right. You’re so beautiful and smart. You’re tough as, uh, iron, and you’re always right.”

“Dork.”

“Yeah, I’m your dork, though. So, you’ve gotta make it. You’re perfect. That’s why you’ll make it, okay?” He’s in so much denial it pains you to the core and all you want to do is grab him in a hug and tell him that you’re going to die but it’ll be okay. But he’s on the other side of the city and he can’t save you this time. “That’s why I’m gonna see you again, and I’m gonna tell you so many things. So you’ve got to stay alive, alright? ‘Cause I needa tell you all about Camp Lehigh and Bucky and you’re supposed to be here with me ‘cause you’re one of my best friends and I need you, okay? It’s been like that since the beginning, Y/N. Before everything, before that gala, before we were friends. I was always the puppy trailing after you. So you can’t die.”

“Steve,” you choke out as you open your eyes again. You reach your uninjured arm for the surface. Your fingers are barely brushing the air and you can imagine the wind on your face. You might make it. “Steve, I’m scared to die.”

“You’re not gonna die, so there’s nothing to be scared of,” he tells you like it's a fact and not something that’s stopping you from turning off every repulsor node you have left. You’re so tired but your arm breaks free, and then your suit and then you’re soaring through the sky.

Flying through the air, you hear the whistle of wind and missile trail after you. You made it to the surface and for what? Here you’ll be, shot down like game anyway. Is that all live is? A game of hope and lies and deceit, just for some god out there?

If it is, when you die, you’ll tell them that you were never playing. You’ll tell whatever god who’s watching to go fuck themselves. Find someone else to play with.

“Steve,” you whisper, because you need to say it as many times as you can before you can’t anymore. “Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve.”

“I’m here. I’m right here waiting for you.”

You laugh into your next words, cheeks soaking with tears as you raise your eyes to the moon. “I’m glad that it’s you.” 

The missiles dig into your armor — legs, chest, arms in that order — and explode. You are a dying star, the last brilliant flash of light and beauty and the magnificence of the universe before you are extinguished. 

On the other side of Washington, Steve watches the orange cloud of fire and smoke consume the air around it hungrily as a lone figure drops into the water.

.

“Zola’s algorithm… is a program for choosing I.N.S.I.G.H.T.’s targets.”

“What targets?”

“You! A TV anchor in Cairo, the Undersecretary of Defense, a high school valedictorian in Iowa city.” Sitwell swallows visibly and Steve’s nails dig into his palms as he stares at the pathetic man. “Bruce Banner, Stephen Strange, anyone who's a threat to HYDRA! Now, or in the future. It’s why we killed Y/N Stark.” Blood drips down Steve’s fingers as he grabs Sitwell’s collar, hauling him to his feet.

“What did you say?”

“We… it was a confirmed hit.” Sitwell’s confession rings in Steve’s ears and he lifts him up higher, wanting him to choke.

“You say her name one more time, no one’s gonna stop you when you’re thrown off the building.” He lets the man drop to a pile on the ground. The blood from his palms mark where he’d grabbed the traitor and Steve resists the urge to kick him. Instead, he asks how Zola’s algorithm can predict the future whilst thinking of every way imaginable on how he can destroy H.Y.D.R.A., one agent at a time.

.

“Y/N wouldn’t want some priest,” Steve says, playing with Sam’s cellphone. He’d given it to him after what happened in Washington, but Steve’s never grabbed the strength to play the voicemail sent to the number not long after your last call together. The anger he had has sapped away until all that’s left is the space you used to fill with your laugh and smile. He never even got to tell you how he felt about you— “Maybe something quiet. Her stuff burned, something like that.”

“How the hell would you know what she wanted?” Tony whispers. His rage is simmering so close to the surface, so close to his breaking point, that Steve looks up. They’re gathered in the Avengers Tower, all of them for once, and Tony slams his hand on the table, head bowed. 

“Tony,” Bruce begins but he ignores him, pushing off the table and walking back towards the window of the penthouse, staring off to the skyline. “I’m sorry. You couldn’t have stopped it.”

“I could’ve. I could’ve told her not to go.”

“You couldn’t have known S.H.I.E.L.D. was compromised,” Natasha adds, although her eyes are red rimmed and there’s something croaky in her voice. Steve’s heard her cry. He knows. “None of us knew.” Tony whips around.

“You were supposed to protect her!” His words make Steve flinch more than the volume he screams it at. Steve’s blood rushes to his head in his shame, and a familiar bruise blooms in his throat. “I trusted you. You promised me you’d protect her.”

“I promised I’d try, Tony,” he whispers. “And I couldn’t. Neither could you. If you were in my position, you wouldn’t have made it in time.”

“I could’ve. I could’ve, with my suit. I could have saved her if I was in your position, because I would have had the suit!” Tipping over a wine glass and letting it smash to the floor, all but Tony flinch when he walks over the shards of broken glass. “You don’t have any idea what I could’ve done.” 

Steve falls silent. He turns on the phone screen, turns it off again, and flips it over to feel the edges where the screen protector has cracked.

“Tony,” Thor begins, speaking for the first time since he’s arrived. His dark blue eyes are storms on seas and the air around him blurs with energy. The air tastes like lightning. “Look at me.”

“I could’ve saved her,” Tony repeats.

“Look at me.” Dark eyes meet storm blue. “You could not have gone across the city, bring her out of the water, and take her to a hospital alive. Even if you did find her, she would have bled out or succumbed to her injuries.” His voice lowers as Tony’s head drops forward, tears racing down his nose and cheeks. “We all saw the suit.”

“Doesn’t mean she’s dead,” Tony whispers. He jolts himself out of Thor’s grasp and walks back to the window. “She could’ve made it out. Someone could’ve saved her.”

“Tony,” Natasha calls softly, “we need to—“

“‘We’,” the man repeats incredulously. He gives them all a sneer. Tony’s bitter smile could make hell freeze over and Steve pockets the phone, standing. “I’m sorry, there’s a ‘we’ in this situation? Who’s her brother here?”

“Tony, that isn’t fair—”

“There is no ‘we’. You all think she’s dead, but we never got a body. That’s what isn’t fair about this. You’re supposed to be her friends, her family, and you’ve just given up on her! She could still be out there. She could still be kicking and you’ve all given up on her!” Swiping a hand out to the window, he stares at them, waiting for them to agree. When they don’t, his head bows as his hands ball into fists. With a sigh, all the strength leaves him and Tony’s shoulders slump. When he looks up again, his eyes are shining wet, dark earth after a storm.

“Tony,” Steve says his name faintly, then clears his throat. Standing up, he waits for the response and gets none. He begins his way to the man who personifies all stages of grief. His throat bruised from holding in tears, he just calls his name again until Tony looks at him. “We got the suit.” Tony’s entire body crumples and he leans against the bar, eyes narrowing on the marble swirls. “She may have been your sister, but she wasn’t invincible.”

“Don’t talk about her like she’s dead!” Steve sees the swing before it makes contact and he ducks underneath, bringing Tony into a crushing hug. “She’s not dead. She’s my baby sister, she’s not dead.” Steve doesn’t say anything, but the man seems to wilt in his arms as another hand touches his shoulder. Bruce sends a tight-lipped smile before slipping between the two and hugging Tony tight. The blond pulls away.

“Thor, get the suit,” Steve whispers, turning to the god. He’s uncharacteristically quiet, nodding and uncrossing his arms to go retrieve the cargo they’d received a week ago. Maria Hill had it delivered in an unsuspecting box outside of Stark Towers, with a touch ID that only Tony Stark could bypass. Inside, the melted, burnt, broken remains of what is left of your mechanic suit. Half a gauntlet, blasted metal, shrapnel and bloodstains. That’s all they have left of you.

Tony takes out your helmet. There are ashy streaks where the explosion had damaged the metal, and there’s a huge crack up the left side of the mask until where the eye used to be. A hole is punched through, the wires poking out, and blood where something had dragged over your mask.

“J.A.R.V.I.S., connect A.N.A. to the servers.”

“Right away, sir.”

“Good morning, Mr. Stark.” A new voice echoes throughout the penthouse, a subdued female who sounds like she’s seen better days. Steve catches Tony’s weakening smile. “Is there anything you need?”

“You have the recording for… for her last day?” Bruce asks quietly.

“Mr. Stark?” A.N.A. seems to wait on Tony for confirmation and he nods.

“Go.”

The helmet lights up and Tony places it on the bar counter before heading down to the couch with the rest of them. Natasha rubs his arm, leaning on her other elbow and hiding her mouth behind a tight fist. Thor closes his eyes, listening as intently as he can. Bruce paces back and forth and Steve just waits on Tony.

When they reach your agony, your screams, your relentless sobbing for death as you sink into the Potomac, Tony tells A.N.A. to turn it off. There’ll be two funerals, they decide. The public memorial and one just for them.

.

“You dealt with my sister’s potty mouth and you yell at me about language?” Tony asks over the comms. Steve groans on the other end, and he’s surprised by how easily he can mention you. It doesn’t hurt as much. “I literally can’t get over it.”

“It just slipped out, Tony,” he replies.

“Well, I bumped into a forcefield, so I had a reason.” Tony’s senses are on high alert. The Enhanced is MIA and his eyes scan the area. 

“Keep your eyes on the prize, Tony. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can head home and debate about it.”

Tony pushes on the secret door, letting out a silent ‘yay’ when it gives, sliding into motion.

“We have a second enhanced. Female. Do not engage.”

Walking down the staircase, Tony’s nerves shoot. Something about this place seems off. The staircase expands as he gets to the end, leading through a dark hallway lit by the occasional lamp that looks like it hasn’t had its oil changed since the 80’s. Grimacing, Tony continues on his way. It’s enough light to let him see ahead and if he needs the suit, it’s just seconds away. The hallway opens up to reveal a huge underground laboratory, and Tony’s eyes widen, gaze drifting up as he takes in the magnitude of this room. It’s a huge construct, with metal catwalks and staircases. A Leviathan is hoisted in the air by wires and he blinks.

“Guys, I got Strucker.”

“Yeah, I’ve got… something bigger.” There are benches full of forgotten projects or ones half-done. An Iron Legion robot lays on one of them, illuminated by pale yellow.

Shit. He wants to get out of here and back to the team, but it’s too late now and he has a job to do. His eyes drift over the robot again, seeing if he’d know what they needed it for. Experimentation? Curiosity?

Parts. He can see it in the delicate way it was taken apart, by someone who knows their way around this kind of stuff. This isn’t some ten year old who’d torn it apart for the sake of curiosity. No, this is surgery.

Tearing his eyes away, he turns to look at the triple row of benches under what looks to be operating room lights. Something gold and red glimmers underneath the light but he can’t risk getting unfocused.

The blue glow of Loki’s sceptre reminds him of why he’s here, and he goes to it. Electricity crackles around it, tools and half-made but quality gadgets used to stabilize it. There are monitors reading the levels it’s giving out, fluctuating as Tony steps closer.

“Thor, I got eyes on the prize.”

“Tony?” Turning around at the sound of a voice — the voice, your voice — Tony’s eyes widen as the Leviathan jerks into motion. Letting out a scream, he flinches away, his mind reeling back to that wormhole in 2012. Panic seizes him, his lungs constricting and his heart beating in time with the pulse in his head as he turns to watch it go, flying above the rock steps occupied by some bodies.

Bodies he recognizes.

Bruce’s Hulk body twitches as the last of his fight leaves him. Spears come out and go into him at all angles and he lets out a painful whimper. Natasha’s broken arms and legs stretch and twist in awkward angles as if she’d fallen to her death and every single bone in her is shattered. A pool of blood spreads beneath her head and her eyes stare sightlessly at him. The rock ledge is slick with red, flowing down in a tiny trickle towards Clint. For a moment, Tony thinks he’s alive, and he nearly calls out his name.

Then his head dips and lolls, and Tony knows. Thor’s neck is gashed to the bone, but his blood has dried and Tony’s breath catches in his throat. The few things that can kill Thor aren’t even possible on Earth, and Tony takes a step towards him just as his gaze drops. Steve Rogers lays there, bruised and battered with a shield snapped in half.

Half of him knows this is a vision but the other half is trying to rationalize it. Whatever is messing with his head: transmittable by air, powerful enough to warp his reality, and potent enough to capitalize on pre-existing emotions. Tony jots all this down in his mind as he desperately tries to pull himself out.

Not real, not real, not—

“You could have saved us.”

“Ant? Is it really you?” Spinning around, he comes face to face with you. You look more than a little worse for wear, and he touches your face, unbelieving. Searching your face, he just sighs and kisses your forehead. “Tony, oh my god.” Letting out something between a sob and a chuckle, he rubs your cheeks with his thumbs. Your hands cup his face and you cry out, hugging him tightly.

“Y/N, you’re okay.” He takes hold of you by the shoulders, taking in your features as his fingers brush over your cheekbones. 

“Hey, Tony,” you whisper. The skin peels away underneath your eye in the shape of the crack of your mask as he touches your face, peeling like wet tissue and he lets out a shout, pushing back. The flap of skin continues to fall, tearing away your face and blood flows down the gash as your eye closes. Scarlet tears flow your cheeks. “Tony, it’s me.”

“Y/N, no….” You reach for him still, trying to understand why and Tony can only back away. You’re dressed in tattered clothes, all bloody and burned — the clothes you died in and there’s a gaping hole where your abdomen should be.

“Tony?”

“It isn’t you.” The ugly pulsing burn on your side is black and white, your arm mangled beyond repair. “Stop…”

“Tony, what’s wrong?” You run to him when he trips over the steps of the rocks and you pull him up. Blood runs down your neck, drying dark and thick. Your eye opens again. With a pitch black pupil, only a green synthetic outline stares back at him.

“You’re not real!” Flinging your arms off, he stalks past you and searches for the sceptre. “You’re dead. I buried your empty casket.” He takes in his surroundings, his back to the pile of dead heroes. If he doesn’t acknowledge it, it’ll make his mind realize it isn’t real. If he finds the sceptre, he’s out of here. It’s the sceptre messing with his mind. That’s it. Find the sceptre.

You stumble after him but he ignores you too. His heart tears in half as he ignores it and tells himself that you’re dead. He forces himself to think of that cloudy day and that empty casket. They buried your suit and your favourite books for you to read in whatever afterlife. It’s been a year. You’re dead. 

A vibrating hum catches his attention and he freezes. Closing his eyes, he tries to hone in on the sound.

“Tony, please! Look at me...” A hand clutches at his shirt and he whips around, prepares to scream for his mind to shut up. The words die before he can speak. There the sceptre is, with the monitors and stabilizers and everything. No dead bodies, no blood on his hands. But the hand is still there. A sobbing pile is at his feet and a pale hand grasps his shirt, and his breath catches when the sobbing pile cries out his name. His stomach twisted, bile crawls up his throat when he sinks to his knees, collapsing before it. His hands shake and he feels his heart steadily climb towards the spectrum of beating so fast he isn’t sure he has a heart anymore. His blood mutes his frantic thoughts, and he, lightheaded and dizzy, pulls the hands off of him. They’re shaking but he isn’t sure if it’s him or… or you.

“Tony, please look at me. Tony? Tony, it’s not a vision, right? I’m, I’m not seeing things, again? Tony?” Your voice under your breath mutters these heartbreaking things that Tony lets out a breathless laugh of pain, and he tilts your chin up to see you. It can’t be you. You, with the exploded armour and bloodstains. You, who’d died by S.H.I.E.L.D. It can’t be you. A shaky hand reaches for your chin, and he feels the hot tears dripping off your skin as he angles your head to the light. Your eyes are wide and sunken compared to the rest of your face and your lips are dried and cracked. Your hands are calloused, dirty, your fingernails chipped, your skin raw and red and blistering. It can’t be you.

But it is.

“Yeah, Y/N, it’s me.” Your eyes widen and you stare at him as if you’ve just noticed him for the first time, and you let out a loud sob, covering your hand with your mouth as he lunges into you, holding you as tight as he can. You’re so real and warm and you’re hugging him back even harder if that’s even possible as he sniffs back his tears.

If this is a dream, Tony doesn’t want to wake up.

“Tony? Tony, you found me. I told them you would, but obviously they ignored it, because you’d never stop until you did.” Tony’s heart races back to the other end of the spectrum. The not-beating side. The side riddled with guilt and grief and pain that he thought he’d moved past but here, in your earnest view, it all comes rushing back. “They, they kept me here to work on the staff, but… you found me.” You bury your face in his neck and he kisses the spot before your ear, looking at the staff with wet eyes. Blinking, he lets the tears that fall, fall freely. “I thought I was dreaming when I heard your voice. It’s been so long. Tony.”

You break down into tears as you melt into his arms, slouching all over him. He holds you up in his embrace and your knees drag over the floor as you wrap your legs around him. He pulls back and sits on his bottom, holding you in his lap like he did when you were a kid after a nightmare. You latch onto him like a koala, and he sighs, eyes closing.

“I’ve got you, sis.” Running a hand over your hair, he realizes with a pang how thin you are. You’re all bones and not a lot of meat, and your spindly fingers are grasping onto him so hard that it hurts. But pain’s good. Means it’s more likely to be real. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you. We’re gonna get you outta here. I’ve got you.”

The comm links are active as Tony buries his face in your greasy hair. You smell awful, but underneath it, you smell like you. 

“Guys, we’ve got a plus one.”

.

“Hold my hand, Steve.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.” He nods, as if expecting your answer and you sit across from him. Reaching over, the man holds your hand across the conference room table. Tony situates himself in the corner, and you already know what’s coming. You just need to gauge Steve’s reaction when it’s presented. 

As images of every global instance of destruction flickers across the screen, you feel something within you twist harder. Washington, D.C. Steve’s grip intensifies, nearly crushing your hand until you give him a gentle squeeze in reminder.

You open the first page of the Sokovia Accords. His thumb traces soothing circles over your skin while you flip through the pages. Your cybernetic eye scans each one, gleaning the important info for you to review later before you hand it off. 

Since your return to civilization, you’ve updated and replaced the tech H.Y.D.R.A. used to keep you alive and functioning with improvements that are far more befitting of you. For one thing, your cybernetic eye they used to replace the one they gouged out has a link to the earpiece, allowing you near 24/7 access to A.N.A. For another, you’ve improved mesh camouflage. After all, the scarring around your metal abdomen is kinda unsightly for undercover operations. 

Still, this isn’t how you wanted to go back into the Avengers. After Tony’s BARF showcase at MIT and the announcement of the September Foundation Grant, you had felt the shift in Tony’s energy. From generous and giving, to guilty and heartbroken, you knew something had happened when he went to the bathroom. Still, he probably didn’t want to talk about it.

So you took the jet back to New York for an emergency Security Council meeting with Secretary Thaddeus Ross. 

Tony watches as you hand the Accords to Steve. Sam refuses to look at it, and Steve only lifts the cover to humour you. You know him. 

When Secretary Ross leaves, the rest of the Avengers follow suit soon after, but not before your brother kisses your hair and rubs your head. They all head out to see the Secretary off and then meet in one of the many lounges in the facility. All of them except Steve.

Steve pulls his hand back to open the thick book, and you swivel the chair to face him fully. He reads the first page and you watch as his expression tightens, lips pressed together, eyebrows furrowed.

“Steve,” you whisper and he looks up at you. Instantly, everything relaxes. His shoulders slide down and he even manages a small smile.

“I don’t like it so far,” he tells you. “Sacrificing our right to choose is too dangerous.” He lifts the Accords half way, scans the pages, and then lets it drop again. He rubs his hand over his face, looking older and tired.

“Well, we can set up safeguards, can’t we? Once all the publicity dies down.” You reach for his hand, and he takes hold of it again. The warmth of him soothes your nerves and he instantly begins rubbing your knuckles. Habit, you suppose.

“But what if this panel doesn’t send us where we need to go? What if they send us where we aren’t needed? Y/N, we can’t be run by some panel who doesn’t even know us.”

“I know. You know I know what happens when corruption begins to spread. I’m sure we’ll be able to have some say over this.”

“Agendas change.”

“And what if our agendas change, too?” you ask quietly. Steve’s head snaps up and you lean forward, squeezing his palm. “I’m not saying you or Tony. I know you try your best. I’m saying when we’re all gone, what happens if the Avengers are run by people who don’t have the same ideals?”

“That’s a far off possibility.”

“But it’s still a possibility.” You stand, smoothing your hands over your pants and adjusting your vest. You realize somewhere that you’re dressed exactly like your brother, but you ignore it. The two of you can’t help but be fashion icons. Walking around the table, you sit on the surface next to his hand. “I don’t like it either, so I’m not going to sign.” Not yet. “But, Tony wants to. So we’re gonna have to talk it over with the team.”

Steve leans back into his chair to look at you. “I can’t sign this, Y/N.”

“I know.” You pull him up to his feet and smile as he brushes hair away from your face. “I know, baby.” You pull him into a hug and he sighs, nuzzling into your neck. Pulling back, he sighs again and brushes his thumb over your lips as his gaze searches your face. He takes you in like he’ll never see you beside him again and you do the same, just trying to burn his face into your memory. 

“These Accords might ruin us.”

“Not if you don’t let it.”

“Tony wants to sign.” Steve lets his head drop and the hands you have on your shoulders press down. Your thumbs dig circles into his muscles.

“Not if we convince him not to.” You send him a smile and he cups your face. “We’re really lucky, Steve. Really lucky. We got a second chance. This past year has been hell for the both of us, but we got our chance.”

“At what cost is it to keep us together? I can’t just pretend I agree with this. If I see a situation pointed south, I can’t just ignore it.”

“I know, baby. Tony knows it too.” Your hands run down his chest and your fingers tangle together. “This is our family. Just, remember that.”

“I know.” Leaning over, he kisses your cheek, although you yearn for it somewhere else, and pulls away to go to the lounge with the Accords. You sit there on the table, alone, watching him go, with that feeling in your heart just like the one in 2012.

Just like the one in Washington.

.

“Take one more step, and I’ll be sending your brains to Wilson.”

Steve freezes. The words, tossed so poisonously against his back, make him stop and he swallows through his bruised throat. He doesn’t want to look at you. He can’t look at you after what he’d done. Rhodey shattered, Tony somewhere trying to fix the mess he made. But he couldn’t regret choosing Bucky. Still, he just wanted to make sure you were okay but you’d woken up and grabbed your gun as quick as you could, standing despite the ringing that must’ve been going on in your head.

“You don’t walk away when I’m talking to you, Captain.” 

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Without the shield, he almost feels naked under your piercing glare. He knows that if looks could kill, it wouldn’t have mattered if he had vibranium between you two. “You know what you mean to me.” The gun cocks and he hears the safety switch off. Your finger rests over the trigger.

“Secretary Ross charged me with finding you. Tony asked me to bring you in peacefully,” you whispers. Your unsaid words hang in the air instead. Not more than Bucky. Never more than Bucky. Bucky who killed my parents.

Bucky who didn’t know what he was doing.

But he killed them.

And Steve knew.

After Secretary Ross assigned you with bringing back the fugitives, you’d refused at first. 

“I don’t work for organizations like yours,” you said.

“Y/N, if you don’t go, we don’t know how many people will get hurt when they get in his way,” Tony said. 

“I’m only going for you,” you said.

You knew Steve wouldn’t let his team rot on the Raft for so long. It was only a matter of time before he came to rescue them, and that was where you came in. You know his mind, and it almost kills you, knowing that in every circumstance, he would’ve always chosen Bucky over you. 

Steve was always the better hand-to-hand combatant between the two of you, but Natasha had taught you some new moves before she’d gone and disappeared without a trace, too. You had him pinned underneath you, and a part of you knows that he’d only let you win because he didn’t want to hurt you. Before, it used to be funny. You used to spar, and you’d pin him down, or he’d scoop you up in a hug. Before, it used to be fun and flirty, and you two would make smoothies after. At least, before everything that had happened.

No such kindness is in you now.

It wasn’t in Sam either. The man had knocked you out with a fire extinguisher, leading to their escape.

Until now.

Steve had dragged you to the little skipper he’d used to sneak onto the Raft, scared out of his mind for the concussion you now sported. But it didn’t matter. Despite the dots nearly blacking out your vision, you know if you pull, it’d hit Steve and come out between the eyes.

“Rhodey’s paralyzed,” you grit out, your jaw clenched so hard you’re sure your teeth will break, “because of you. How could you do this to him? To Tony? Especially after what happened last year? Tony… Tony’s heartbroken. You know that? He’s heartbroken.”

So are you. Steve knows how to read between your lines, even if some of ‘em are metal instead of flesh.

“Then, are you gonna do it?” Steve asks quietly. Golden light streams into the dark room, illuminating his broad shoulders and sifting through his hair, and you wonder if everyone else is asleep. That’s the only reason you can think of that’ll make him see you now. He’s always held these secrets. It’s a fucking shame you’re one of them.

It’s a fucking shame he hid the most important one from you. It almost makes you wonder if he ever felt anything for you at all. Life has been shitting on you.

Squinting your eyes, you try to ignore the blossoming pain in your head as you shake your thoughts away. He doesn’t even look at you. Coward.

“I want to,” you tell him, finger just barely pushing the trigger. You know how much pressure it takes to fire a gun “I really, really want to.” You half-laugh, half-cry, because of the pain in your heart and head. Who’s the coward now? “I didn’t know what to do.”

“I know.” Steve turns to you then, his normally-bright blue eyes hooded by the shadows of the rocking ship. You put the gun down, and it’s almost as if all the strength leaves you then, too. “I never wanted you to pick between Tony and I.”

“Why, because I’d pick Tony?” You sit back down on your bed again, and Steve shoves his hands in his pockets. Walking over, he angles his head to the spot beside you and you nod, reaching over to turn on the lamp. “Well, you’d pick Bucky so, I guess it’s even.”

“Y/N,” he begins but you hold up a hand as your eyes close. 

“Save it, Rogers. It doesn’t matter.” Your teeth clench together and the muscles in your jaw twitches as your eyebrows push down. All you’re trying to do is not cry at the thought of leaving him here on this ship. Taking a shaky breath, you blow it out as Steve puts a hand on yours. Your fingers slot together and you lean towards him until your head is on your shoulder. He tilts his head to press his cheek into your hair and your fingers play together as your other hand brushes over his calloused skin, broken along his knuckles where he’d punch your brother. “None of it matters.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. Something wet slides into your hair and you feel it drip down your skin. Placing your hand atop his, you swallow and tell yourself to get it together.

“The most ridiculous part of this whole situation is that I love you,” you tell him because there might never be a chance to tell him again. “Your best friend killed my parents. You beat up my brother and he’s back in New York, bruised and battered and heartbroken, and I’m here.” You raise your head and he turns to look at you. Searching his eyes, you find nothing but grief. He pulls away his hand. “I’m here, instead of there with him.” You laugh because it’s all so stupid and ridiculous. “I’m really here, fraternizing with the enemy.”

This is never how you imagined you would tell Steve you loved him. Never. The first time you tell him you love him is the day it’s over. Fucking poetic, isn’t it. 

“I’m fraternizing with the enemy,” you repeat. Steve’s your enemy. Steve. Your stupid dork is now the enemy of 117 countries and you. The realization slams into you like things you can’t name. Your eyes flicker close and a few tears slip out but you manage to suck the rest in. Steve lets out an exhausted sigh and it feels like you’re both bone-tired this days.

“Y/N, I never wanted this for you. I just wanted to keep you safe.” His hand rises up to touch your face but then he seems to think better of it and lets it drop again. You miss the warm, rough feel of him already and he’s not even gone yet. “If the U.N. did what H.Y.D.R.A. did—”

“I know. I…” You sigh, looking down at the slight space between the two of you. How easy it would be to close it if it were a different time. “It was never a choice between you and Tony. It was a choice between Tony and what I believed in, and I believe in you, Steve. I believe that organizations like S.H.I.E.L.D., like the World Security Council, like some U.N. security panel, can’t be trusted.”

“Then, why? You know what organizations can do. You know that agendas change.”

“We’ve already lost so much. We’ve had too many casualties.” You cup his face, smile bitterly, try to make a joke out of it that you know won’t land. “I was one of them.”

“You can’t say that,” Steve says, turning his face away and you swallow the knot in your throat. 

“Why not? It’s true.” The most horrible thing you’ve ever seen lays within Steve’s eyes in that moment but you move on. “The Accords are still gonna pass whether you’re there or not. It’s a matter of safety, now,” you whisper and his gaze darts to you. His eyes ask a silent question and you dread the answer. “I’m gonna sign. I need to do my job, Steve, even if it means working for some higher power. There’s no other way.”

“So you’ve picked a side.” The distance between you is immeasurably wide, and you wonder how such a huge distance can be fit in such a tiny space.

“Yeah,” you whisper, “I’ve picked a side.” Steve’s face twitches and you take in his sculpted lips and cheeks, his blue eyes that reflect the lamplight and warm golden hair. “Steve, all that matters is we know what we are.” 2012 feels so long ago but it makes you feel younger when Steve tries to smile. Then, he looks down and you have a feeling he can’t even look at you.

At first, you think it’s because you disgust him. It’s not the first time you’ve thought such a thing, but then you realize. He’s terrified of watching you fall out of love with him.

How much you want to tell him that it isn’t possible. But you don’t. You can’t say a thing.

“But you’ve chosen a side,” he replies quietly, almost accusatory if you didn’t know him better. You close your eyes for a moment at his words, and then you turn away. The light is blinding in the hallway, but it’s better than looking at the heartache in Steve’s face. Tears slip down your cheeks as you stand and take the gun.

“You chose yours first.”

Tags: @teawithbucky @jcc04220 @shenala​ @dulharpa

[turning-dreams-into-chaos]

New Beginnings (Part 6)

*Not My Gif*

Post Date: 12-8-19

Paring: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Word Count: 2.4K

~New Beginnings~

~Master~

Previously...

Your mind reeled as your phone rang, an unknown number popping up on the screen as you groaned in frustration. All you wanted was to know Peter was okay. You answered the call and as soon as you did your mind stopped. The voice on the other side sounded soft and weak and they said your name. You were breathing heavier than you ever had before.

“Peter?”

---

A sigh of relief overcame Peter when you answered, your voice calming him down despite the worry in your tone. “Peter? Where are you?!”

“I messed up. I’m um…” Peter said as he looked around, putting on the orange shirt he had. He turned back to the gentleman he borrowed the phone from. “Excuse me sir. Where am I?”

“Het is Broek op Langedijk.” He told Peter who brought the phone back to his face, struggling to repeat the name of the city with Dutch pronunciation before asking the cheese farmer to repeat it into the phone. The man was happy to help as he took his phone back, saying the name to you once again. You thanked the man before he handed the phone back to Peter.

“You’re in the Netherlands! Peter, how the hell did you get there?” you asked him as Happy watched you, his mouth dropping in shock before he rushed to pilot the Quinjet, getting you all in the air as soon as possible.

“It’s a long story Y/N.” He sounded like he was going to cry as you paused, letting your eyes close.

“I’m so glad your safe, Pete. I was so scared.” You whispered into the phone as Peter shook his head, despite the fact you couldn’t see it.

“I’m okay Y/N. I promise.” Smiling, you told him you’d be there soon and where to meet before Peter hung up and made his way to the tulip field you told him to go to. His limp made him slower as arrived just as the Quinjet came into view, landing across the field. He sighed in relief before freezing. You dashed out of the jet, seeing your best friend looking like he got hit by a train as you covered the tremble escaping your mouth.

“Peter? Are you okay?!” you shouted as you ran to him, only for his eyes to widened and he threw his hands up to stop your movements.

“Stop! Stay right there!” His hands shook as you stopped, water pooling in your eyes that you refused to let fall as you heard Happy come up behind you, putting a hand on your shoulder. Peter looked between the two of you, eyes darting as if he saw a ghost. “Prove to me it’s really you! Tell me something only you know.”

“Something only I would know. You remember when we went to Germany? You pay-per-viewed a video in your room? They didn’t list the titles, but I could tell by the price it was an adult film at the front desk-“ Happy began as Peter started yelling okay and asking him to stop as Happy nodded, shutting up almost instantly. Then Peter looked at you.

“Pete…”

“Please?”

Your heart was beating in your ears and Peter’s whimper was the only thing you could focus on. “Okay. The first night after my dad died, you stayed with me. You refused to let me go through it all by myself and so you held me in your arms that night until I stopped crying. And then the next morning, you woke up to me destroying my suit.” The words didn’t want to stop as you clasped your eyes closed, letting the tears stream down with no stopped as Peter took a step closer.

“Y/N…”

“You were the reason I got to know my sister. You and Pepper introduced Morgan to me, even though she didn’t even know you. You were last person I saw before I was dusted. You were one of the only people who loved me for me and not because my father was Tony Stark. And you are the only person I trust with my life, Peter.” You couldn’t control your breathing, everything you’ve felt just tumbling out before Peter’s arms were wrapped around your waist, making you stutter in your words as you held him, letting your arms fall around his neck as you buried your head in his shoulder.

“Y/N.” He mumbled into your ears, letting himself relax for the first time in a while. Happy watched you hold each other, two kids who didn’t realize how in love with each other they truly were. You didn’t want to let go of him, but you knew that whatever happened to him to get him here wasn’t a good thing.

“Peter. What happened?” His head dipped as he let go of you, missing the warmth your body brought him as the three of you walked back to the jet. You grabbed the first aid kit and sat Peter down to stitch his wounds.

“Ow.” Peter grunted as you poked a particularly tender spot on his back. “Ow.” This time it was more of a groan as you apologized, letting Happy take over your shaky hands, but it turned out Happy wasn’t any better.

“Hold still.” He told Peter as you grabbed his hand, making Peter look at you instead of Happy as you clenched his other fist. “I thought you had super strength.”

“He does, but still hurts.” You told Happy, leaving Peter’s eyes for the few seconds he found himself smiling at you before Happy caused him to flinch.

“Relax, just give it a few minutes.” Happy finished another stitch before Peter yelped, slamming his fist against the table and letting go of yours. “Relax!

“Don’t tell me to relax! How can I relax Happy? I messed up so bad. I trusted Beck. I thought he was my friend and I gave him the only thing Mr. Stark left for me and now he’s going to kill my friends and half of Europe, so please don’t tell me to relax.” Your jaw clenched, finding it hard to keep yourself from making Peter’s worry increase as he freaked out. He turned to you, taking his seat again and grabbing your hand again. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to shout.”

You squeezed his hand, letting your head rest on his shoulder as he let yours fall on his. “I miss him too.” Happy sighed as he took a spot across from the two of you.

Peter looked down at you. “Everywhere I go, I see his face. And the whole world is asking who is going to be the next Iron Man. I don’t know if that’s me Happy. I’m not Iron Man.” He felt slightly guilty because he knew what it like for you. He only had to worry about being the next Iron Man as Spider-Man, but you? That was your life, you were Y/N Stark, you always had to live up to your father’s legacy. Peter ran his thumb over the back of your hand, your soft skin calming his nerves quickly as he brought his other hand up to wipe the tears off your cheek.

“You’re not Iron Man.” Happy admitted, pulling Peter’s attention away from you. “You’re never going to be Iron Man. Nobody can live up to Tony. Not even Tony.” You shut your eyes, knowing that Happy was no longer just talking about Peter. “Tony was my best friend. And he was a mess. He second guessed everything he did. The only thing he didn’t was recruiting the two of you.” You let out a soft laugh, remembering the day your dad allowed to come on a mission. You were so excited, and he knew that it was the best decision he had made in a while. And when Tony told you about Peter, there was no deterring him from recruiting him. “I don’t think Tony would’ve done what he did if he didn’t know you were going to be here after he was gone. Now. Your friends are in trouble. You’re all alone. The tech is missing. What are you gonna do about it?”

Peter stood up, determined as he nodded his head. “I’m gonna kick his ass.”

You stood up with a concerned smile, putting your hand on Peter’s shoulder to make him look at you. “He meant what are you going to do right now. We’ve been hovering over the tulip field for the past 15 minutes.” Peter made an ‘o’ shape with his mouth before thinking.

“I can’t call MJ or Ned. He’s tracking their phones.” He told you as you both begin pacing and trying to come up with anything.

“Okay, well we have to figure out where they are.” You told him as you threw your hands up in the air, only to let them drop when you turned to Peter, both of your eyes wide as you shared a smile.

“Flash.” You both said his name at the same time as you pulled out your phone, only to see the dead battery signal and you groaned. Tossing it on the chair, you turned to Happy.

“Give me your phone.” You asked, more like demanded as Peter came to stand at your side, looking at the man eagerly. Happy just looked between the two of you, eyes darting back and forth quickly.

“My-My cell phone?” He stuttered out as Peter nodded and you gave the man a grin. Happy fetched his phone out of his pocket, putting it in your hand as you immediately turned away from him and tried to open it.

Peter watched you turn on the phone, getting prompted to input a password as he put his hand on your lower back and looked at Happy. “What’s your password?”

“Password.”

You shook your head, pointing at the phone in your palm. “No. What is your password.”

“Password.” Happy repeated as you tried not laugh. Peter didn’t look quite as amused as he pursed his lips.

“You’re the head of security and your password is password?” You looked over your shoulder, biting your lip to hide the smile coming onto your face as Peter looked at you.

“Yeah, I’m not happy about it either.” Happy tried to defend himself as Peter turned to you, not at all believing you were in this situation.

“Your password is Spider-Man.” You told him as he hushed you, a small blush coming to his face as you laughed before turning back to the phone and putting in the password. When the password worked you looked up at a humiliated Happy as you navigated through the phone, finding Flash’s vlog within a few seconds.

“’ello governor! Cup of tea for you? Imma be in London.” Flash said as you started to watch his updates, seeing exactly where he was before turning off the phone.

“They’re in London.” You announced as Happy stood up, moving to the front of the Quinjet before Peter stopped him.

“I need a suit!” Happy turned with a grin, making you slightly worried by his change in demeanor. He pushed a few buttons before a compartment behind the two of you opened and you jumped out of fear, Peter wrapping his arm around you before you realized what it was. You and Peter smiled at each other before looking at Happy who continued to open compartments. Peter walked into the room, leaving your side as you watched him. Your dad’s tech descended from the ceiling as Peter stuck his hand in it and blue lights appeared and him.

“Okay, umm…” Peter looked at you and shrugged as you crossed your arms, letting him figure his way around the tech. “Pull up everything you have on Spider-Man.” He said into the air before holograms in front of him appeared and he begun working on his own suit. You couldn’t look away, not even when Happy smirked and patted your back, and stood behind you. You leaned back on the man, both of you watching Peter so intently.

“He is so much like my dad.” You whispered to Happy. Happy agreed, nodding his head with a sigh. Peter caught your eyes, raising his brows in curiosity.

“What?” He asked as you looked down to the ground, Happy patting your arm before leaving. Peter never got his answer from him as he took a step closer to you. “Y/N, what?”

“Nothing!” You giggled as Peter turned back to the holograms but looking at you through out of the corner of his eyes. “You take care of the suit. I take care of the music.” Peter nodded, continuing to scroll through the options in front of him as you began pressing buttons, pausing before pressing the final button and bringing up your dad’s favorite playlist. Back in Black by ACDC came on and you found yourself imaging your dad was still here, asking you for your advice on something he was working on.

“Oh, I love Led Zeppelin!” Peter yelled at you as you spun around to look at him tossing a tool in the air with a stupid smile on his face that you couldn’t help but swoon at. You didn’t quite have it in you to tell him it wasn’t Zeppelin.

You gave Peter one last look before leaving him be, moving to the front of the Quinjet to where Happy was as you sat in the co-pilot’s seat. “Fury doesn’t know Beck’s a fake.” You reminded Happy who nodded, looking out into the sky in front of him.

“What are we going to do about it?” He asked as you leaned back in the chair, looking up into the roof. How the hell are you supposed to let Fury know the guy with tech skills now almost advanced as your dad was betraying everyone and trying to kill your best friends. You needed a way Beck couldn’t catch onto, something that only Fury would be able to figure. You sat up quickly, grabbing onto the console in front of you before turning to Happy with a smirk.

“I think I have an idea.” You told him as he raised his brow at you. You looked back down the jet at a busy Peter before telling Happy the plan.

What did you think?

All Tags Open

***Reblogging with New Beginnings Taglist***

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[hqwkeyes]

Blood Loss

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2,290

Warning(s): explosions, injury and blood, language, a bit of angst, fluff, unedited (sorry, i’m tired)

Summary: When Y/N and Bucky are trapped during a mission, a rather odd topic comes up.

A/N: This little fic was so much fun to write. My best friend ( @cracked-perfextion ) actually gave me the idea for it a few days ago, and I decided to write it! I really hope you all like it!

Masterlist  // Ko-fi

It was another mission involving yet another HYDRA base that landed them here in this situation. There had been about a dozen missions just like this one over the past three and a half months, so there shouldn’t have been any issues. Except this time was different. HYDRA knew you were coming, or at least they figured it out just before you arrived, giving them enough time to embed explosive devices in certain parts of the structure.

You and Bucky had just finished taking down a group of HYDRA operatives when Bucky used his comms to inform Steve that the two of you were making your way toward the nearest exit and would meet him and the others at the quinjet. Unfortunately, the two of you had unknowingly ran within range of one of the explosives, and the frequency from the comms set it off. The minuscule device had been placed at the very bottom of a door frame—easy to miss when not looking for it. It sent the two of you flying into the air as it blew out the surrounding wall and a large portion of the floor. You both landed in the basement below, surrounded by rubble.

“Y/N?” Bucky called out.

“Yeah?” You answered immediately so as not to worry him, but your voice was laced with pain.

“Where are you? Are you okay?” You could hear shifting in the rubble as he searches for you. It was dark, almost too dark to see him across the room, but you could just barely make out his shadowy figure from where you were lying.

“I’m fine, Buck, turn around. My leg is pinned under this beam,” you said through gritted teeth, biting back a wince as you shifted to look at him. “I’m about six paces in that direction. Just be careful not to trip over anything.” He made it over to you, then took out his flashlight.

“Are you okay?” you asked him, and then you were blinded by LED light.

You could just barely see the look of shock on his face before he composed himself.

“Shit, okay,” he mumbled as he ripped the sleeve off his jacket, then split it down the middle, leaving the ends attached.

“Y/N, you probably don’t feel it yet because of the adrenaline, but you’re injured pretty badly,” he said calmly, softly even, as he took out one of his knives. “I’m gonna use this as a tourniquet, but I need to slide it under you. Try not to move, okay? We don’t wanna make it any worse.” You nodded in agreement, and then he went to work.

Once he finished up with the tourniquet and made sure you were as comfortable as possible, he decided to take a bit of a risk.

“Hey, Steve,” he said over comms. “I know you’re gonna want to, but don’t respond to this. Y/N and I didn’t make it out. I think the frequency from talking over comms set off an explosive. It blew out the floor, so Y/N and I are in the basement, but she’s hurt pretty badly. I don’t think any vital organs were hit, so she should be fine for a little while. When you’re done, just come find us as quickly as possible.”

Which is why you’re here right now in intermittent silence with Bucky Barnes in the dark basement of a now-abandoned HYDRA base as you slowly bleed out.

“I’m really sorry,” he says for the seventh time in the past hour as he stares at his hands.

“Buck, the only thing more painful than this piece of metal in my gut is you apologizing over and over, so if you could not do that, that would be great.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, which makes you chuckle and then wince. Bucky stands up quickly and moves to sit beside you.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you tell him, shooing him away, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, he checks your pulse, tightens your tourniquet ever so slightly, wipes some sweat and dust from your forehead, checks your pulse again.

“Barnes, quit it,” you finally say after about ten minutes. You know he’s only doing it to busy himself, to look after you, but you would rather attempt to make conversation with him.

“I’m-”

“Sorry, I know,” you cut him off.

A beat. Then, “You know, Steve used to talk about you all the time. Back in the old days, you know?” Bucky smiles a bit.

“Yeah, I’ve heard. Sam says he used to talk his ear off about me. Must’ve been annoying.”

“I thought it was sweet. Unfortunate, too. Steve’s ‘best friend, Bucky’ sounded like quite the catch,” you joke.

“Oh yeah?” A breathy laugh slips past his lips, and a little cloud of condensation forms in the brisk air.

“Yeah, he always talked about the guy who was with him through thick and thin, and always stepped in when he was getting his ass handed to him in a fight.” Bucky really laughs at that one.

“The kid never knew when to just walk away. Clearly he still doesn’t, but he doesn’t need much help anymore.”

“I can attest to that,” you say.

Another brief moment of silence comes and goes, and you begin to feel faint. You use the conversation to distract yourself from the growing numbness in your legs.

“You were quite the charmer too, huh? A natural ladies man, I heard.”

“Yeah, apparently. Not much of that going on anymore.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. I’ve seen men and women swoon just watching you jog down the street. And that girl in the coffee shop last week? She nearly passed out when you complimented her hair.”

“I was just being polite,” he says with a shrug.

“Exactly! Imagine if you actually tried to flirt with her. She would’ve gone into cardiac arrest or something,” you joke, earning another laugh from Bucky as he shakes his head.

“He really did talk about me a lot, huh?”

“Hell yeah. He even told me about your first kiss.”

“He did?”

“Well not all the details. Just that you told him the night that it happened.” Your lips—now pale from blood loss and a tad bit blue from the cold—tremble around the words.

“I- well it wasn’t really anything special. Granted, I was probably fifteen at the time, so I was excited about it nonetheless.”

“That’s sweet, Buck.”

“I guess so.” He stares at the floor for a moment, then lifts his head. “What about you?”

“What about me?” A thin smirk forms on your lips, and although you’re beginning to grow dizzy, you focus on Bucky.

“How was your first kiss?”

“Oh, well it wasn’t anything special. It kind of sucked, actually. I was 16 and he came up and kissed me out of nowhere, then told me his friends had dared him to.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m long past it now,” you say before your head falls backward and rests on a piece of concrete that had fallen.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’m just resting. Don’t worry about me.” He nods, taking your word for it.

“Anyway, you deserve better than that. He sounds like he was a real jerk.”

“You think little Steve would’ve beat him up for me?” you joke.

“I’m serious. But yeah, he probably would’ve if he were there.”

“Oh, I know.” You lift your head to look at him again.

“I’m sure your second kiss was better then.”

“Not by much,” you laugh, followed by a cough. Your head falls back again, a bit harder this time. Bucky turns on his flashlight again and notices that your skin is incredibly pale.

“Y/N?” There’s panic in his voice. “Shit, why didn’t you tell me? You’ve lost so much blood.”

“I didn’t want you to worry.” The words come out as a whisper.

“Worry? Of course I would’ve been worried. You’re literally bleeding out,” he nearly shouts.

“I was just enjoying talking to you,” you say as you strenuously lift a hand to rest it on his cheek. You feel warm tears on his cheeks, and he leans over you a bit before taking your hand on his cheek in his own, holding it tightly.

“I was enjoying talking to you too. I’m sorry your first kiss sucked,” he says, and then even more softly, “I wish I could’ve been your first kiss.”

A smile takes over your faint expression. “You weren’t my first, but you could be my last.”

“You’re not dying, Y/N.”

“You don’t know that. We don’t know when Steve and the others will get here.”

Bucky sighs, and a few of his tears drip onto your arm before he leans down and presses his lips to yours in a gentle yet passionate kiss. He runs his fingers through your hair, and when he pulls away, he presses his lips to your cheek.

“You’re gonna be okay, Y/N,” he whispers against your skin, and you tighten your grasp on his hand. You feel his warm lips against your forehead as you drift off.

Suddenly, you hear something beeping, and you open your eyes to a blinding light before immediately shutting them once again. You lift your arm—which feels much lighter—to shield your eyes before attempting to reopen them. Once you allow your eyes to adjust, you look up and find that you’re in a hospital room. The sound of something moving catches your attention, and you turn your head—a bit too fast, as you find yourself a bit dizzy—to find a sleeping Bucky Barnes shifting in what looks like a rather uncomfortable chair. A small smile finds its way on your face, and you sit up a bit.

“Bucky,” you call out to him in a quiet voice. You reach out and tap him, nearly falling off the hospital bed in the process.

He wakes with a start, nearly falling out of the chair. When he notices that you’re awake, he lets out a deep sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank God you’re finally awake,” he exhales. You notice tears welling up in his eyes.

“How long was I out?”

“Almost four days.”

“I- How did I get here?” You knit your brows together in confusion.

He calls to let the doctor know you’re awake before explaining, “After you passed out, I used comms again to tell Steve to hurry up or send someone to help us. He showed up six minutes later, said he had been on his way the whole time. He and Nat helped me get you out without moving you too much.”

“Six minutes? Isn’t that a bit specific,” you joke.

“I was keeping track of your pulse the whole time, actually, so he showed up just after I counted the beats in the sixth minute,” he says, his voice quiet as he speaks.

“You what?” Bucky lowers his head, stares at his hands.

The doctor enters a moment later to check your vitals and to tell you that the surgery to remove the metal was completely successful, as well as your treatment plan. Bucky sits through the whole thing, making a mental note of all of the important details.

When the doctor leaves, you speak up again.

“Did you stay here the whole time?”

“Um, mostly, yeah. I only left for an hour or two twice to go take a shower. Everyone else stayed with you then.”

“You slept in that uncomfortable chair for three nights? Why didn’t you just come back in the morning?” you ask, genuinely concerned.

“I didn’t want you to be alone,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck. It makes you smile, which has Bucky’s heart lurching.

“I- I don’t even know what to say. Thank you, Buck.” He nods and grins, although there’s a question in his eyes. Moments later, the question is on his lips.

“Do you remember anything before you lost consciousness?” There’s hope laced in his voice and anxiety in his posture.

“You mean the kiss?” Bucky’s eyes widen a bit, as if he hadn’t expected you to remember, and then he nods.

“Yes, I remember. Thank you for that too.” Both you and Bucky wear a matching rosy tint on your cheeks.

“Could we uh-” he stops to clear his throat, “Could we maybe do that again sometime?” You giggle at that, and Bucky flushes a shade of scarlet.

“That sounds nice. I’d like that a lot,” you tell him.

Bucky gets up and takes a seat on the edge of your bed, and you take his hand in yours. He presses a light kiss to the back of it, which has you grinning like an idiot. You sit up and lean closer to him, despite his protests. He gently pushes you back until you’re resting against the reclined bed before leaning in. He nuzzles your nose with his own before capturing your lips in a kiss, just as gentle as the first one. His vibranium hand cups your cheek while his other one still holds fast to your hand. The two of you pull apart only when you hear the subtle cough of someone behind you.

“Sorry for interrupting,” Tony says with a cheeky smirk, “but we heard that our lovely Y/N was awake.” The rest of the team is with him, even little Peter, who has a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hands.

“We can leave you two alone if you’d like,” Nat offers suggestively, but both you and Bucky insist that they stay, which makes Sam and Wanda laugh.

Bucky reclaims his seat in the chair just beside your bed, still holding your hand as the team chats with you. He isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Masterlist

[anthonyed]

soulmate au: the most important thing your soulmate says to you is written on you

It’s a fairy tale concept was what Howard always said. His mother never encouraged him but she didn’t exactly stop him either like her husband. Jarvis on the other hand, only had nice things to say about it.

Ana and him were the kind of people Tony drifted off to sleep thinking about.

He had a delicate cursive circling around his wrist spelling out Ana’s wedding vows and she had his.

Tony wished he would have something akin when he finds his as well.

Until actual letters burned into the stretch of skin overlying his right hipbone one day and when he finally stripped out of the armour to look, it spelled an awful comment that made him reconsider Howard’s opinion – which was absolutely not a path to take – about soulmates, so he yanked his shirt down and forced himself to forget.

He carried nuke through the wormhole. He breathed nothing but space for a minute. When he opened his eyes again, he was looking into his soulmate’s.

Tony watched the bike take off, with it, the obnoxious vroom of its ancient engine. His right hip tingled, aching for contact and he pushed his shades up his nose bridge and jumped into the driver’s seat.

He’s 100% sure Steve Rogers had no idea what they meant to each other.

It’s what spurred him to carry on. The lack of the burden perhaps – thinking what his soulmate didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt him – because Tony knew, if Rogers had something of Tony’s tattooed on him, he would rip the skin off rather than accept it.

Rogers hated him that much.

The words on his skin were burning testament for that.

When SHIELD went down and Rogers with it, he had to physically lock himself in the workshop – overriding his own commands – so he’ll never go find him. Rogers would rather die than have Tony as his soulmate.

Might as well, give him no additional reasons for not recovering, is what he told himself.

And he lived with struggles. Peppers’ knowing eyes turning into lingering gaze of disappointment and blazing anger. Tony took cover from it all.

He knew she knew. She’s too smart after all.

But she wouldn’t get it. Not when her own wrist glimmer with Happy’s Miss Potts inside and made her smile even during her worse days.

So when one day JARVIS alerted him to Rogers’ presence in the penthouse, he buried all his nerves, yanked harder at his shirt and went to see what he wanted.

Rogers had Romanoff and Hill flanking him. A picture of complete authority and for a second it felt like Captain America was there to arrest Tony.

Except when they spoke, it was bargaining – a discussion about business, something about forming Avengers away from the clasp of SHIELD.

“We’ll operate independently,” Hill proposed meticulously. Romanoff was stiff as a board in her seat, despite however hard she faked to lounge comfortably.

Tony looked at Rogers. Who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there.

Yet another part of him ached and he braved on; with his dashing camera ready smile, he said, sure. “Whatever Cap wants.” Because apparently, no matter how much he wanted to deny it, he was a sentimentalist at best. And the young Tony within him, the one who dreamt of his soulmate every night wishing they’d get married and live happily ever after like Ana and Jarvis one day, he loved Steve.

That’s how the Avengers moved into his tower. That’s how many memories were made. That’s how Ultron happened. And that’s how Tony got his heart broken.

Again.

All that. Made him bitter.

He agreed to sign the Accords because he cannot trust himself anymore.

Steve on the other hand –

He refused to compromise where he cannot and he stood tall in Leipzig, flying away in stolen Quinjet with his old buddy Bucky while his own soulmate, Tony dropped beside a fallen Rhodey – unconscious head on his lap and Tony wondered with horror what were these all worth.

So he tried to amend.

He tried trusting Steve instead but that ended with a shield embedded into his arc reactor.

Civil war. Was what they dubbed the great break up.

Tony personally liked the ring of, ‘the end.’

And he moved on.

Until Banner dropped from the sky – literally – and ruined it all.

“Call him.” He urged.

Tony wanted to bite his tongue and swallow it than press that button.

But he did. Even if the sound of Rogers voice after two years made the soulmark burn hot on his skin, he did.  

He swallowed. Opened his mouth, and swallowed again when nothing came out. Banner looked at him like he’d grown a tail so he thrusted the phone into his hand and watched as the roof of the New York sanctum flew away.

He didn’t think he was going to die when he hopped into the donut shaped alien space ship.

He didn’t think he was going to survive either.

He only had one thing in his mind. And that was to save Earth and the humanity with it.

Even when Thanos threw a moon at his face, he fought on.

For humanity.

For earth.

Even adrift in space, he fought on.

Until his body gave out on him and light glowed brighter than the sun in front of him.

For a second, he truly believed that was it.

But fate had another plan for him as she landed him in front of his soulmate.

The mate who hated him - except Rogers looked anything but like he did, running towards him.

“Tony, we lost.” He said when Tony told him about Pete – his heart hurting in his chest. An agony not meant to die down anytime soon.

“Tony, I need you to focus.” He demanded when Tony, with his aching bones and even more aching heart brushed away Steve’s ‘pressing’ questions of Thanos’ whereabout.

Something in Tony snapped.

“And I needed you.” He spat.

What left of his body thrumming in hurt as he lashed at the man in front of him. “I got nothing for you, Cap. I got no coordinates, no clues, no strategies, no options, zero, zip, nada.”

“No trust.”

“Liar.”

The anger within him shrivelled when Steve came to find him later. Arc reactor in his hand as he sat on the edge of Tony’s bed in silence.

Tony thought over and over how much he hated Steve. But he knew he was wrong.

It was hurt speaking. It was resentment filling the void in him where Steve supposed to belong. The burn of his soulmark reminding him of rejection and pain continuously.

So much pain.

“Did you know?” Steve asked after sometime. The unexpected question attracting Tony’s attention to him. And despite the lack of context, Tony knew what Steve was asking about.

In his mind however, he’s back in Siberia again.

The tape of Maria being choked to death stopped playing and he’s asking Rogers the exact question. “Did you know?”

And what a twist it was.

Steve knew back then and now, Tony too.

But he got nothing to lose after everything. He lost half of the universe. He failed to stop Thanos.

He lost Pete.

So he removed the layers of blankets from his right side, shifted the robe, lifted the shirt up and he watched as Rogers swallowed thickly, fingers fisting around the sharp edges of Tony’s arc reactor;

I know guys with none of that and worth ten of you

Moments later, Rogers stood up, lifted the shirt up his left hip and showed; 

Liar

Bold and black in all capitals which stabbed right through the remaining wall of Tony’s heart.

Five years later, when Tony snapped Thanos and his army into dusts, he proved Steve’s words on his skin wrong.

When Steve resuscitated Tony, did everything it took to bring him back to life and nurse him back to full health, he proved Tony’s word on his hip false.

Tony Stark is worth the universe and Steve Rogers can keep his words; to be there for Tony, to face life and death together.