#it's because he was already close to folding after watching steve's bat fight and he would've simply fell to his knees if

[steddielations]

We all agree Steve has the biggest praise kink ever, he absolutely does, but in the meantime, Eddie’s just getting off free, walking around openly saying that flattery works on him

Let's talk about how Eddie ‘hides behind his hair and holds back a smile at the smallest compliment’ Munson, would be fighting for his life dating Steve 'holds hands during sex, randomly says you're beautiful, turns on his charm like a secret weapon, confident sweet talker no matter how lame he looks' Harrington.

Eddie's probably used to people being entertained by him, but not being endeared, and now he has Steve fucking Harrington winking at him after Hellfire, looking at him like he’s something special even when he's sweaty and has Mountain Dew sticky fingers, casually saying, "Why did they ever call me the King when you look that good up there on your throne, hm?” It’s a miracle Eddie isn’t constantly falling to his knees. Sometimes Steve’s compliments get Eddie so flustered that he just has to hide his face in Steve's neck and bite him.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Omertà👄18

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rap, fingering, blow job, blood, violence, death, some elements may be untagged.

This is dark!Bucky and dark! Loki and explicit (with sides of dark!Steve and dark!Thor). Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your father was a bookie and taught you everything you know about numbers. After his death, you were taken on as a bookkeeper for Loki Laufeyson, resident crime boss in Manhattan. But can you keep your place in the background when a man from Brooklyn threatens to drag you to the forefront?

Note: Did I write another ending? You’re damn right. Enjoy another finale as I try to decide what I’m doing next because I dunno...

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

masterlist

The red dress slid up on your thigh as you crossed your legs. You tapped your bottom lip with your fingertips. The radio buzzed with some British punk group you’d never heard of as Thor gripped the wheel and reclined. You sensed his quick peek over at you and looked back from the corner of your eye.

You were anxious even if you were confident. You had no idea what Bucky had planned but you knew that this trip wouldn’t go as smooth as expected. You sighed and leaned back as you dropped your arm and uncrossed your legs. You had to get Thor off-guard, it was simple enough to distract him.

You let your hand trail along your thigh and took a deep breath so your chest rose. Your hem slipped up even further and you closed your eyes. He hummed and you tried not to grin. You knew he was fighting to watch the road and not you. The moment you appeared in the short red number and matching lipstick, he was on the hook.

“Long ride,” he said coyly, “it’ll be nice to get away, eh?”

“From those two? Any day,” you answered as you opened your eyes, “I’ve just been so…” you let your fingers dangle down between your thighs and quickly retracted it as if it wasn’t at all deliberate, “tense.”

“My brother can be a handful and that American,” he said, “I can see how you’d be so worked up.”

You squirmed and pushed your knees further apart. His hand suddenly clapped down on your thigh and he squeezed. He glanced in the rearview and you bit your lip. You rested your hand on his and felt his fingers go rigid. 

“Loki--

“He doesn’t know about before, he won’t know now,” Thor growled as he kneaded your leg.

“I don’t know…” you let your voice trail off, “he’s already so mad at me--”

“I won’t say a word,” he purred.

You swallowed and watched your own fingers. You had to do it. It would dull his defenses. You urged his hand up your skirt and pushed your pelvis forward on the seat. He barely kept the car steady as he felt your bare cunt.

“Oh, honey, you want it badly, don’t you?” he pushed between your folds without hesitation, “no panties…”

“Habit. Your brother demands it,” you rasped as he rubbed your clit. You couldn’t help but quiver.

He was quiet as he kept his fingers moving and listened to your shuddering breaths. You played them up with moans and groans as you arch your back and gripped the door.

“If you prefer me, I could…” his fingertips slickened as they explored further and he prodded along your entrance, “I could take you away. You’ll be far enough before he even knows.”

“Oh…” you gasped, “but… why would you… do that?”

“Look at you, honey,” he taunted, “that cunt--” he shoved a finger into you as he leaned awkwardly over the space between your seats, straining to keep his gaze on the road, “I can’t even fault my brother for his distraction.”

“God,” you squeezed his hand between your thighs as he pushed another finger into you.

It became less of an act as you latched onto his wrist and rocked your hips. His thick digits filled you and curled as the tide rolled through you. You were close to cumming, all the better as he had to buy into your desperation.

“You’ll really take me away?” you whined, “really? I have no other way out but-- you.”

“If you fuck me like you fuck my hand, I’ll keep you forever, honey,” he snarled.

You exclaimed and covered his hand with yours as you tilted against him hungrily. You dug your heels into the floor and lifted your pelvis slightly as you came against his palm. He snickered at your delight and let you ride his hand until you finished.

You fell back limp and he reluctantly removed his hand from your cunt. He reached blindly up and pressed his fingers against your lips. You braced yourself and took in his fingers and sucked your taste off of them. He drew away and sat back in his seat as he rubbed the front of his pants.

“Did you mean it?” you asked as you felt between your legs.

“Fuck my brother. We’ll leave right now,” he said, “I always did like his toys better.”

“We should stop by the shop,” you murmured, “I know where he keeps his stash.”

“His stash?”

“You could have everything that’s his,��� you whispered, “everything.”

He considered the suggestion and exhaled. His squinted through the windshield and groaned.

“When we get to the shop, I want you on that desk,” he said as he continued to play with himself, “can’t wait to fuck you in that little dress.”

“I can’t either,” you reached to his lap and he caught your hand.

“No,” he said, “I want to see it all.”

You retracted your arm and pouted. You hugged yourself and shivered dramatically. He glanced over at you again.

“That day in the office, I haven’t stopped thinking of it,” he said, “I can see you’ve suffered just as much as me.”

Your smirk was interrupted by the sudden veering of the car at the impact of another. You cried out as the rubber screeched over the road. The car skidded over the lanes and turned horizontal with the rest of traffic. Another bump on the tail and you were rolling. The airbag deployed and blinded you as the glass and metal crunched past the railing and into the ditch.

You panted in shock as the vehicle stilled at last and you felt along your face and body. There was blood dripping from your hairline and some aches in your neck and back, but you could move and you were alive. You put your palm against the roof and unbuckled the belt and kept from falling on your head. The welts of the restraints burned at your chest and waist.

You squatted and looked over at Thor. He hung from his seat but there was much more blood on him and his blond hair was stained with it. You crawled out through the window and fell into the dirt.

You heard footsteps as they carefully descended the incline and you looked up as a silhouette neared and came clearer. Steve approached the other side of the car and bent to look in the driver side. You heard his voice as he poked the unconscious man inside and he stood again.

“Get up,” he demanded as he came to you, “no time to waste.”

“What?” you let him pull you to your feet, “you were supposed to be at the shop--”

“We’ll get there,” he dragged you up to the rail and stepped over.

You struggled to get over the metal barrier yourself and he nearly had you off your feet as he thrust you towards his waiting car. He opened the passenger door and pointed you inside. You dropped into the seat and touched your sore neck. He closed the door and rounded to his side.

“What’s going on? Bucky said--”

“Bucky wants to make sure you’re not fucking with him,” Steve interrupted and his eyes fell to your skirt. You barely realised how high it was as you were still spinning from the crash.

“You could’ve killed me--”

“You’re a smart girl. You had your seatbelt on,” he said as he bent between the seats and fixed your dress, his fingers lingering on the fabric, “we’ve got a whole day… we get the money and have some fun while Bucky takes care of that other moron.”

“Money?” you asked.

“You’re his little bookkeeper, I’m sure you have the combination to that safe he keeps nestled in the back of the shithole,” he turned the engine and pulled out from the gravel, “a healthy price for your… defection.”

“Fine,” you said coolly, “I’ll help you get it. But what about Lopez?”

“I’ll take care of that fat fuck but that’s another debt,” he replied.

You were quiet as you rubbed your shoulder and tried to clear your head. You were slightly dizzy but fought through it as you tried to redirect your plot. There was still a way out of this. You just had to deal with this idiot instead.

“That day in the club… Fucking Buck, he can be so selfish but I think I’ve waited long enough,” he hissed, “you don’t even know what you haven’t had, sweetheart.”

You looked at him and he met your eyes briefly. You fought not to show your disgust and just batted your lashes.

“Do we have to wait?” you asked as you shook off the cobwebs.

“Hmm--” his voice caught in his throat as you stretched between your seats and touched the front of his pants, “oh.”

He squeezed the steering wheel as you leaned over and rubbed his crotch until you felt it harden. “We’re not far,” you said and held in a grunt as a pang stabbed your neck, it wasn’t as intense as before, “but we have time.”

“Sweet--”

“This is what you wanted… Bucky won’t like it--”

“He won’t know,” Steve interjected, “shit, I can’t--”

You unzipped his pants and he went silent. You slipped your hand down his boxers and pulled out his dick. You stroked him as the noise of the traffic flowed around the car. You held him firmly and moved your hand. It would end soon enough.

He groaned and tensed as you worked him steadily. You’d learned to read men, to use them. They did the same to you but they taught you just as much. The only way out was their own tricks. As you sensed him nearing his release, you placed your lips around his tip and swirled your tongue.

He gasped and his foot pushed down the pedal. You moaned around him and moved your hand faster and faster. It sickened you but you had to commit. You couldn’t let him see through the cracks.

He came in a hot spurt and you struggled to swallow it down without gagging. You sank until he poked at your throat and drank him in. His legs shook and he swore as you lapped up the last of his cum and pulled off of him with a pop.

You sat up, dizzier than before and wiped your lips. He shifted in his seat and brought one hand away from the wheel to zip himself back up. He sniffed and rolled his shoulders.

“That was fuckin’ good,” he said, “I see why Bucky didn’t give up.”

“You know what he’ll do if he finds out,” you said sharply.

“Oh, you can keep me quiet, sweetie,” he said with a crooked grin, “just like that.”

You closed your eyes and collected yourself as he took the ramp and you readied yourself for what came next. You didn’t know if you could do it, if it would work at all. You’d come this far though and couldn’t turn back. If you failed, with all that happened, it would only be worse than before. So you couldn’t.

You watched the streets of New York and as you got closer to the antique shop, you had to keep your hands from shaking. The adrenaline buzzed inside of you. Your mouth was dry and your limbs felt numb. You peered over at Steve as he pulled up to the curb and he looked over at the façade.

“Stay behind me,” he winked as he reached to his belt and unholstered his gun, “I got Lopez. You head for the safe.”

He got out and you did the same. You circled the car as he headed for the front door with his gun low against his thigh. He grabbed the handle and pulled. He raised his hand before he entered and you stayed back as the gunshot echoed from inside. You felt a twinge in your chest; you liked Lopez but he was one of them.

You followed and let the door fall closed behind you. Steve laughed to himself and nodded you ahead of him. You went silent, past the chipped statue and that old grandfather clock.

The office was stolid and still. It brought back a sense of nostalgia and yet felt like a prison. Steve entered behind you as he tucked his gun away.

“Better hurry,” he muttered, “too bad I made so much noise or we could stick around… maybe you could finish what you started.”

“We’ll go somewhere else,” you shrugged as you looked around and went behind Loki’s desk. 

You pulled out the drawers and pretended to search. Really you were wasting time, trying to put Steve off alert. He watched and crossed his arms.

“What are you doing?” he grumbled.

“Just making sure we’re not missing anything,” you slid shut the drawer, “whatever, nothing there.”

You went to the cabinet and rolled over your office chair. Steve sat in Loki’s cushioned leather seat and leaned back as you opened the cabinet and bent behind the door and began to wind the numbers. He put his feet up and tossed around a glass orb that usually sat on Loki’s desk.

You turned the handle and the loud metal clank filled the office. You reached inside and pulled out a money bag and loaded it up with the stacks of bills within. You zipped it up and tossed it over the door and it landed on the desk heavily.

Steve sat up as he smiled at the thick pouch. You shoved your arm back in the safe and pulled out the gun on the higher shelf, stowed with the priceless Victorian pocket watch and a pair of diamond cufflinks. 

You stood as Steve took the bag  and sat straight. His face paled with surprise as you pulled the trigger and the bullet opened his chest. The chair wobbled under him as he dropped the money and gave a brittle croak. 

His hand went to the wound across his front and you kicked shut the safe. You swept around and bent to pick up the money bag. Steve trembled as the blood pulsed from him and the chair creaked.

“Pity,” you said with a smile, “looks like you did miss something.”

You angled the gun and admired it as you hugged the cloth pouch under your arm. You shrugged and left him to his death thralls. You went out into the front room and stopped at the rack of gauche vintage coats. You pulled one on and hid the gun in the inner pocket as you secreted the money in the sleeve.

You exited and stepped out onto the sidewalk. You blotted away the dried blood along your forehead as your heels clicked and you blended into the steady New York foot traffic. You were done running from behind. You would be out of the city before anyone thought to look for you and with the bulk of Loki’s savings you would always be a step ahead.

👄👄👄

End

[petersspidey]

Stress Relief

A/N: This one kind of  just came to me. Takes place probably somewhere after Age of Ultron before Civil War

Captain America x Reader

Warnings: Smut 

Masterlist // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // 

You were an Avenger. Tony had come across you years ago. You had been trained somewhat like Natasha, and could fight and your ability to read minds felt useful enough to Tony to make you part of the Avengers team. Along with everyone else, you lived in Stark Tower.

It was late one night, and you knew Cap and Tony had just gone out on mission. It was nothing so important that the two of them couldn't handle it together. The rest of you didn't need to tag along.

You were sitting in the lounge on one of the main floors, when Tony and Cap walked off the elevator together. Tony looked annoyed, and Cap looked pissed.

"I still can't believe you let that happen!" Steve exclaimed

Tony ignored him, and kept walking over to the bar at the side of the room. You stayed still, confused by what was going on.

"Tony! You can't just ignore this, you know we're going to have to go back out there." Cap continued.

Tony spun around, "Look old man, there's nothing we can do now. What's done is done. They are more than long gone. We did what we could, but we have no idea where they went and we're just going to have to wait and follow their tracks from here before we can do anything about it,"

"Or we could go out there! And try and Follow them that way and get this done now!" Steve exclaimed

"Or… they would already be in China or India, or Australia for all we know. So just let it go Cap. They'll show up on our radar again and we can get them then. And this time we'll know to bring back up." Tony said.

He poured himself a drink, and walked out of the room. Steve just stood there, you could tell he was frustrated by what had happened, and by what Tony was saying.

"Tough mission?" you said, breaking the silence.

Steve spun around, he hadn't realized you were sitting there listening the whole time.

"Yeah, that's an understatement," he said. You could still see the anger in his eyes, even though he was trying to calm down.

You had always thought Cap was handsome, but what girl didn't fantasize about Captain America. And you had definitely fantasized about him more than once. Although, you knew he didn't think about you that way. Or at least, he didn't think of you that way while you're around, knowing that you would be able to read his thoughts.

"What happened?" you questioned

Steve sighed, "we thought this would be a quick and easy mission. Little did we know, they had a ship on standby as well as several dozen mutant dogs. Before we could even realize the guy was flying away, we were still getting attacked by seventh round of the mutts,"

"Tough break," you said, sipping on your drink

Steve rolled his eyes at you. Not wanting to hear anymore things like what Tony had been saying.

"I'm so frustrated, I should have known that something like this would have happened." He said

"Actually, I'm really the only one who could have known something like this would have happened, which is why I told you guys to bring me in the first place, but oh well. Maybe the next time we run into them," you said, giving Steve a smirk, knowing you just made him more mad.

You could see Steve clenching his jaw and his fists, "Man I just really want to hit something,"

"Ok Bruce," you joked.

He rolled his eyes at you again, "I'm just going to go down to the gym," he said, turning to leave.

You stood from where you were sitting on the couch, "and do what? Hit one of your punching bags. Like that would help. Besides, you broke all the ones we had in the building. Tony had to order more, and they haven't shipped yet,"

"Fine, i'll just go to a local gym then…"

"And break their equipment too?"

"Well then what do you suggest, Y/N? Because I can't just take deep breaths, I need to vent," Cap said

"Well, I have an idea that does involve you breaking something," you said.

"Oh yeah, what's that?" Cap asked.

You could hear him racking his brain trying to figure out what it possibly could be. You saw images float through his head. Images of wood snapping under an axe, golf clubs and bats being swung into glass.

"I hear you thinking Cap, but none of that's right,"

"So tell me, Y/n,"

"Well, I know something that could relieve your frustration, and your stress and all you would have to do is break my headboard," you said,

Cap un-clenched his fists, you could hear him thinking about it; breaking your headboard. You could see images of his lips on yours, him pulling your hair, and slamming himself into you. You smirked, because you knew exactly what was about to happen.

Before you could say anything else, Cap moved across the room, grabbed you from under your thighs and lifted you up. You wrapped your legs around his back, and your arms around his neck. He threw his lips on yours and began giving you sloppy kisses and he moved toward the elevator to bring you upstairs.

When the elevator doors opened, he pushed you against the wall. He was squeezing your ass, and only kissing you harder. When the elevator opened on your floor, he let you down. You walked backward down the hall to your room as Cap left his arms around you and was placing wet kisses down your neck. You opened your door, and walked in. Cap slammed it shut behind you and pushed you down onto your bed.

He moved on top of you, he pinned your hands above your head, only holding them down with one of his hands while the other roamed your body.

"Do you like this shirt," He said

"I mean-"

"Good,"

Before you could even finish answering, Cap began tearing it with his free hand. The fabric was ripped from your body. He let go of your hand above your head to unbutton your jeans and slip them off along with your underwear. You sat up, and undid your bra, and watched him take off his shirt and pants. You could already see his toned body through his thin white shirt, but this was so much better. He undid his belt and pushed his jeans and underwear down his legs. He stepped out of the fabric and moved back toward you.

You could see his cock getting hard, growing in size, the closer he got. Steve grabbed your feet and pulled you to the end of the bed, so your legs were hanging off, and your ass was right on the edge. He took one of your legs in each hand and spread them apart. He slowly slid one of his large hands up your leg, toward your centre. He lightly used one finger to feel between your folds.

"So wet for me already, Y/N," he muttered softly

Cap took another step forward, and started rubbing his cock against your pussy. He had moved both hands so they were placed on your thighs, keeping your legs spread. You kept trying to move your hips, just to be able to feel Cap's cock move against your pussy; and to feel it throb against your clit.

"Don't do that, Darling. I'm in charge here," he ordered

"Fuck," you said, under your breath. Him saying that, only turned you on even more.

He kept his cock, pressed against your pussy as he slid one of his hands up to your breast. He kept eye contact with you and he spread your legs, teased you with his huge cock and flicked your nipple between his fingers.

"Please, Cap. I need you," you begged.

Stever just smirked, and pressed against you harder, twisting and flicking your nipple more vigorously. You just moaned, closed your eyes and leaned your head back. This was probably the biggest tease you have ever gotten. You could feel your wetness dripping out of you. Your thoughts were so hazy, you couldn't even focus on Steve's to see what he was going to do next.

"You really want me that bad?" He asked

"Yes," you moaned.

Cap let go of your breast, and moved your legs so they were over his shoulders. He positioned his dick at your entrance and slowly slid in. His cock was huge and it felt tight going in at first, despite how wet you are. But when you felt yourself open up to him, you couldn't help but gasp, and clench the bedsheets around you.

Steve smirked, and slowly pulled back out of you, before slowly pushing back in again. Cap slowly rocked into you, back and forth, lightly rubbing circles around your clit. He had teased you for so long that you were already getting so close.

He just watched you, mouth agape, eyes clenched shut, fists still digging into the sheets, and moaning so loud that the rest of the compound definitely heard you.

Suddenly, he took his hand off your clit, knowing you were about to come. He wanted to tease you more. He started thrusting into you harder. In and out. He pounded his cock deep into your pussy. You could feel his balls slapping against you.

The sound of your skin hitting each other echoed through your room. You continued to moan Steve's name, begging him to go harder. You needed to come so badly.

Cap quickly pulled out, "Turn over," he ordered.

It took you a second to process what he had said, and before you could complete the action yourself, Cap had grabbed you, and started turning you over on the bed. You sat up, so you were on your hands and knees. He placed a hand on your hip, and used the other to glide his huge cock back into your pussy.

He kept one hand on your hip, as he continued to slam into you. He used his free hand to smack your ass hard. You knew there would be a mark there tomorrow. You arched your head back, moaning loud. Cap reached forward and grabbed your hair. He tugged on it, arching your head back farther. He told you to keep moaning, or he'd have to pull harder.

Dominant Steve turned you on to no end. No man had ever made you moan so loud. You clenched the sheets in front of you, feeling Cap's huge cock pump in and out of you. He began thrusting harder, moaning your name.

"Fuck, Y/N,"

You moved one of your hands to start rubbing your clit. You knew the both of you were close to orgasm. You started shaking and moaning harder as you could feel your orgasm nearing. Steve sped up again, his grip on your waist getting stronger.

You couldn't even say his name, it all felt too good. You could feel your orgasm building, and suddenly you were pushed over the edge. You moaned hard, as your pussy began throbbing over Cap's cock. It was your orgasm that pushed Cap over the edge. You could feel him shuttering, his cock twitching inside you as he filled you with his come. You pushed back against him a few times as Cap continued to ride out his orgasm.

"Fuck," he muttered, panting.

He slowly loosened his grip on your hair and your waist and gently pulled out.

You continued to breath heavily, as you rolled on your back to look at Cap. He stood at the end of your bed, hands on his hips, breathing just as hard as you.

You giggled watching him.

He stayed there for a second, catching his breath.

"Good stress relief?" you asked

"Well, I do feel much better," he admitted

"Well, I'm here for you if you're ever stressed. And besides, we never did break my headboard, so we might have to try that again."

Cap just chuckled, and moved to lie down beside you.

[kashimos-hajime]

viper | s.r.

summary: you would laugh at the irony — bucky is the one telling you the love of your life is gone — if you didn’t feel like this.

WARNINGS: angst, swearing, they kiss n stuff so ig its cute sometimes, civil war discourse, guns, unstable reader, also TREAT YOUR SIGNIFICANT OTHERS RIGHT or ill come beat you with a BAT lmk if i missed anything pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!enhanced!Reader word count: 12.5k

a/n: written for hann over @sunmoonandbucky​!! and i’m so sorry this is late! this is a stand-alone kinda prequel that occurs in the same universe as come undone so sorry yall steve is still an asshole and this ain’t up to snuff but i was having trouble keeping it a reasonable length (like maybe less than 15k???) my prompt was “i bet they have a sex dungeon” but i reworded it just a tiny bit. gif not mine

It begins with “Maybe I can get Thor to come down,” and “Only if you call your blondie first.” (You add you could pretend to put a gun on Jane and he’d instantly come down in a blaze of white and rainbow light — Jane retorts with the fact that Steve Rogers bought a bouquet of roses on your first date a week after you began being her shadow and writes you hand-written letters every second week. The instant you call, he’ll come running)

It begins with a friendly competition between Thor and Steve, who are not even present, but love the women there just as much (Thor would say he loves Jane more than Steve loves you because everything’s a competition on Asgard — Steve would say he loves you in some poem he wrote on the flight over with pink cheeks and a shy smile)

It begins with jokes and smiles, “I bet there’s a sex dungeon,” and laughter. (Jane comments that the abandoned warehouse is full of cobwebs and the readings are off the charts — you tell Darcy under your breath that that’s something you hear everyday and it’ll take more than that to interest you)

It ends just the opposite.

It ends with Jane Foster pulling your smoking body from the ashes of an abandoned warehouse. (Her hands nearly burn as they grab at bits of melting leather — your veins glow beneath your paling skin in bright, unearthly red)

It ends with a call to S.H.I.E.L.D. and Steve Rogers being pulled out of Washington, D.C. (Darcy makes the call because Jane doesn’t want them involved — they’ll end up doing what’s best for them rather than the best for you)

You end.

And something else begins.

.

It’s 2010.

You’re assigned to shadow Tony Stark alongside the Black Widow. You’re fresh-faced and chirpy, someone who whistles when they make coffee in the morning, the type of girl who’ll dance like no one’s watching and belt out the lyrics to her favourite song. Someone who believes that the insurmountable can be an anthill if you only look at it with a new point of view.

You wear combat boots and three thigh holsters and knives to work, but you love wearing makeup and sundresses and taking walks on the beach at sunset.

Essentially, if the Black Widow is the night, you are the day. 

Essentially, if you ask Natalia Romanova her opinion of you, then you’d get that you’re annoying as fuck, but if she catches anyone looking at you the wrong way, there’s no doubt they won’t live to see another day. That is, if she gets to them before you do.

Because before the sunshine girl Natalia affectionately calls a pain in her ass, you are the Viper. 

And vipers never strike twice.

.

It’s 2002.

Budapest is cold at this time of the year, but you’re only here because you owe Yelena a favour and if you don’t pay it back, she is going to kill you.

Whether that is a figure of speech or not, TBD.

Anyway, you figure you’re going to die anyway when your tires are shot out as you speed across the Liberty Bridge. It’s your last night in Budapest after killing whoever you’re meant to kill, and although it’s spring, it’s still fucking cold.

So, there you are, appropriately panicking internally because you do not want to plunge into ice cold water. You’re already shifting gears as you try to gain control of your car and you hear cars beep at you, but it’s two in the morning and you’re exhausted and you think maybe you can pull it off. Then another tire blows.

You fail miserably.

Swerving off the road, you let out a short yell before you’re sinking into the Danube, and the night air weaves underneath your tac suit before the freezing cold of December currents slams into you. You cut yourself free with the knife strapped beneath your dashboard as another wave of river water laps at your waist. Sucking in a huge breath, you fight back the freezing cold and reach up to your sunglasses department.

“Yelena, I’m going to kill you,” you mutter between your shivering as you grab the automatic center punch and press it against the glass. The glass shatters near instantly and you take a deep breath, climbing out through the window as your car sinks deeper into the river. The water nips at your cheeks and you fight off the urge to gasp at how bracing it is. Pushing yourself to the surface, you suck in a gaping breath and glance for the closest shore before swimming as hard as you can. An odd sensation of something burning you from the inside out fills your arms and legs as you paddle to shore, and you drag yourself onto dry land, wet dripping, squeezing out with every press of your body against the ground.

“Fuck.” Wiping off the water from your cheek, you roll onto your back and suck in a cold breath that is somehow warmer than you are. Closing your eyes, you let the breath shudder in your lungs as you try to pull yourself together. A list of names runs through your head as you push yourself up on aching limbs. You cross off a name one by one of those who’d want to kill you and instead rub your arms, trying to get some warmth back into you. You’re quite sure a mighty bruise is gonna bloom along your arms and ribs in a few days as an arrow lands at your feet.

“Stop.”

A voice, American, male, makes you turn around and you know immediately it is the one who shot out your tires.

“What do you want?” You look up to see him, a blur of dark violet and black as he propels himself down and lands a distance away. His bow folds back into a compact black rod that fits on his back, and he lets go of the rope as another figure appears at the top of the bridge. A flame of red hair and a black suit that looks a lot like yours drops to the ground and you gasp, lips barely parting and this time, it’s not from the cold.

“My name is Clint Barton, I’m with S.H.I.E.L.D.” The man smiles. Your eyes drag warily back to him, a hand on the pistol strapped to your back, along the line of your waist. The woman with red hair steps off the rope, shaking her head when the water laps at her feet. Pebbles crack beneath her feet and your breath rattles as your eyes dart back to her. “You’re who they call the Viper, right?”

“Yes,” you murmur, hand still on the gun. 

“Well, me and my partner here were tasked to kill you, but we’re thinking of making a different call.”

“We’ve been tracking you for a while now.” Her voice. The smirk you can barely see and the way she tosses the hair out of her face. Even the way she walks is the same

“Natalia?” Your voice bursts from your throat and you feel breathless at the sound of her name. The woman with red hair looks up jerkingly and your eyes widen as you soak in her face. She hasn’t aged a day, and you almost want to cry. “Tali, it’s me.” Her body goes limp, her arms swinging by her sides as you let go of the gun at your waist. Taking a tentative step forward, you press your lips together in a desperate attempt to smile. “Nat? Natalia?”

“No…”

“It’s me.” Your eyes burn now and you take another few steps, your knees weak and shaking. “I thought you were dead. They… they told me you were dead.”

“Well, clearly I’m not.”

“Fucking funny, Talia,” you spit, unable to help the tears clogging your throat as Natalia Romanova takes a step towards you. “It’s… it’s fucking… it’s really fucking funny.” You let out a sharp, chilling breath just as she opens her arms, and you glare at her, half-hoping she melts into a puddle at your feet.

“Come here,” she whispers and then you are flinging yourself into the Black Widow’s arms. Melting in her warm, dry embrace, you bury your face in her neck. You wrap your arms as tight as you can around her and squeeze, eyes closing shut. “Oh, god, Vipe,” she breathes out, and then she murmurs a Russian prayer of thanks you haven’t heard since you were five. Joining her, you can feel the smile beginning to pull at your lips at the familiarity of a sister’s hug.

“I feel like I’m missing something here,” Clint says, “but it’s a moment, so I guess I’ll let it slide.”

.

It’s 2012.

And there is a god on the loose.

“Can I just say that I hate this? For the record, that is,” you chime in helpfully, and Tony rolls his eyes at you through the screen as he fixes his mask and you sigh, stuffing another one of Peter’s pair of pajama bottoms into a duffel bag you’ve brought with you. “I don’t think we need to move Peter out of New York when Loki’s going for Stark Tower.”

“Just make sure Parker’s good. I don’t like the thought of us losing as much as the next person, but if we do lose, you know it’d be good if I didn’t get another Parker killed.” Tony’s voice echoes and you press your lips together in half a smile, wry and tired. 

“What happened at StarkExpo two years ago wasn’t your fault,” you say, but he merely shakes his head as you rifle through the closet for day clothes. The moment Peter is back from school, you’re taking both Peter and May to Tony’s place in Malibu for the weekend. “Ben Parker did what he thought was best.”

“Hammer drones killed him and they were going for anyone with the mask, Vipe.” Tony sounds exhausted, and you pause, glancing over your shoulder at your phone propped up on a stack of Peter’s textbooks. Sighing, you momentarily abandon your task of packing Peter’s bags and instead head to grab your phone. “If it weren’t for you, Peter would be dead, or worse—”

“You’re the one who saved him, Tony,” you murmur, sitting on the bed. You know he’s spiralling despite how put together he is externally, and you wish you could be there. You wish you could just reach over and hug him. But you can’t. Not yet. “I just made sure he stayed safe.”

“He’s just a kid.”

“I know.” You pull a strand of hair away from your face. “Tony, please don’t do anything stupid.”

“Cannot be guaranteed, Little Miss.” Rolling your eyes at the nickname as playfully as you can, your small smile tugs at your cheeks. Tony barely has the goggles on his face, holding them by one hand as the blowtorch sparks in every direction and you lean on your knees, just watching him at work. It’s always been something so intriguing to you, watching Tony make a suit, but now, it just makes you tired and sad.

“Then, at least put on your goggles,” you whisper, and it is at this volume that Tony finally looks at you. He blinks, squints at you with those dark, wet eyes and absorbs your sagging frown, the bags pulling underneath your eyes. “Tony.”

“Yeah. I will.” He sets down the blowtorch to pull the strap over his head before glancing up. “I’ve gotta go, Little Miss. I’ll see you on the return trip.”

“Bye, Tony.” You smile and he manages one of his own forced grins before you end the call and let your hands drop, leaning heavily on your knees as your head hangs low. The weight of the situation has always been on your shoulders, but for the first time, you feel like you have something to lose now. And it isn’t just Tony.

Coulson wasn’t the only one who ‘watched Captain America as he slept.’

You know everything there is to know about him, but you wish you knew Steve Rogers half as well you knew his alter ego.

So, when Steve Rogers asks you out on a date the old-fashioned way in the middle of the airport, you want to say yes. There are a ton of reporters around, snapping pictures of Captain America in his domestic life, and you’re tanned from your weekend in Malibu. Peter is clinging onto the luggage cart even though you’ve told him not to. May’s gone to the bathroom, and your eleven year old companion interrupts Steve’s no-doubt-memorized speech on how much he likes you with coughs he refuses to acknowledge collectively as a symptom of a cold.

“You always come with the extra set of arms and legs?” Steve asks when you don’t respond right away. He jokes to ease the tension, and you grin, just glad to see him in one piece. Unexpectedly, Steve smiles back and you feel your heart beat faster. You think you might just be a little in love with that smile as May comes back.

“Uhm, no. Sorry to disappoint you but I don’t think Peter wants to go on a date with us,” you quip and he chuckles. “I’m being reassigned in London, so maybe I could put a rain check?”

“Of course. I’m going to Washington, too, uh, since Fury said he has some work for me there.”

“Perfect.” You smile and he brushes hair away from your face, a bit shyly. A delighted pink flush swells in his cheeks as he turns, walking to the cart. He begins to push and you blink as he sets off in the direction of the exit. A protest builds up in your throat — you can push your own luggage — but Steve is already off with Peter clinging onto his back, and you’re left with May.

“He’s good with kids,” she hums and you agree. “You two would have cute kids.”

“I just said yes to a date,” you admonish, much to her amusement. “May!”

“I’m just saying!” She throws her hands up in the air, walking after Steve and Peter who are being chased by reporters, and you let out a frustrated groan. You’re sure your boys are already playing a game of Tag with the paps chasing after them.

Wait.

Your boys.

Oh, you’re fucked.

You fall head over heels in love without a second look back.

.

It’s 2013.

After New York, Steve was reassigned to Washington as the newest S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, and you to Jane Foster on Phil Coulson’s secret, special command. He owes Thor a favour.

So, you shadow Jane Foster as her bodyguard of sorts and you don’t say from who but you have enough charisma to lay down some heavy hints.

After all, Phil’s supposed to be dead. But he isn’t.

And the moment you touch the black cube, some part of you knows you’re supposed to be dead, too.

But you aren’t.

When you wake up — and you’re surprised you wake up —  you can taste the blood pooling in your head that feels like it’s splitting open and the drying tears on your cheeks. The sky is too bright and it’s pitch white, red and blue spiralling at the edges of your vision as a high-pitched siren rings between your ears. A violent push forces you into a sitting position and a scream tears itself through your throat as you cough, hot smoke spilling out of your mouth.

It curls in your lap, black as sin and silky between your thighs as a hand lands on your back, warm, heavy and familiar. 

“Doll? Hey—” You jerk away, the mind-splitting agony causing another round of tears to burn at your eyes. The hand wraps around you and a hot rush surges down your fingers as something snaps. “Hey, it’s just me.” Your hands plant themselves against the pavement, the roughness grating against your skin as lips brush against your ear.

“S-Steve?”

“That’s right, baby girl. Just me.” You blink, face twisting as the pain begins to melt away. It flows down your spine, nests at the base of your skull as the hand runs up and down your back. “Hey, you got yourself into some trouble, huh?” You raise a trembling hand to your face as you pry your eyes open and you let out a choked sob at the blood running down your wrists. 

“Steve, I’m… what happened?” Your words slur and echoes in your skull as you screw your eyes shut again. “Everything… hurts.”

“I know, doll, I know. Just hold on for a moment, okay? You’ve been out for thirty hours. S.H.I.E.L.D. set up a perimeter, but it’s…” He lets out a breath in a whistle and your eyes flutter open. 

“Where’s… Jane? Is she okay?” As your eyes begin to adjust, you try not to let your tears overflow. You run a hand over your face. Blood smears over your cheeks and Steve hushes you quietly, taking gentle hold of your hands. “What?”

“You’re bleeding. Just… let me take care of you, okay? Let me take care of you.” His words whisper over your skin and you turn towards him, raising your chin just enough to catch a glimpse of his sapphire eyes. The moment his gaze meets yours, it’s like a shock runs through your system. You’re all at once aware of how cold you are and you shake your head slowly, turning to examine your surroundings.

A white tent has been set up around you, and it’s where you lay now, on wet pavement beneath the ceiling you know now is not a white sky. The police sirens swirl along the walls, flash through the tarp flaps, and you feel something tug at your arm. 

“Don’t pull on your IV,” Steve murmurs, and you blink, dazed. Looking down at your elbow, you spot the IV that runs up to the stand and frown at how many marks there are there along your skin, as if some amateur did it. “They asked me to keep you hydrated, but I did a pretty bad job.”

“Where is everyone?” you ask, turning to look at Steve again. He looks exhausted, plum half moons staining beneath his eyes, his blond hair barely shining in the darkness of the tent. The whole tent is drowned in shadows and you feel him rub at your hands with a rag. Glancing down, you watch him tug at your fingers, slowly coaxing the red off your hands. 

“No one could touch you. Every time someone tried, it was like something lashed out. Whatever you touched inhabits you. Like that movie you made me watch when I came over to visit last Christmas.” 

A chuckle builds up in your throat and you let it spill, a smile tugging into your cheeks as you sniff. 

“Alien. It was the Chestbursters,” you whisper and he laughs against your cheek as he runs his hand through your hair. 

“Right. Well, it was sort of like that,” he continues and you nod, burying your face into his shirt and you breathe in the smell of sweat and blood as he wraps an arm around your waist. “But you’re safe now.”

“Steve—” The words catch in your throat. It feels like layers of you have been peeled away and you can taste whatever it is that squirms beneath your skin as you fling your arms around him. Holding onto him as tight as you can, you bury your face into his neck and let out a shuddering sigh— “Thank you.” 

“You’ll have leave, and be reassigned to a facility back in New York. Tony will love to have you back,” he says and you pull back. Quirking an eyebrow, you try to make yourself look as attractive as you can — as the sunshine girl Steve knows and maybe even loves, but you find yourself failing at how gross you feel. Like there’s something inside your body, sharing you, taking over. You feel like vomit. Not like vomiting.

Like stomach acid and day old corn, beef, potato salad, stale water and foul air.

And it makes you want to cry at how uncomfortable you are in your own skin.

“Christmas is just around the corner,” you say weakly and Steve chuckles as you poke his cheek. Wetness meets your fingertip and you blink, for the first time noticing the tears streaming down his face. His cheeks blotchy, eyes red-rimmed, he looks like hell took him and spat him out.

“You scared the life outta me, doll,” he murmurs when you plant your clean hand against his cheek. “Shit, you scared me.”

“Didn’t mean to, Stevie,” you mumble and he sighs, almost like he’s exasperated and grateful and half-in-love before he pulls you tight towards him again. Steve’s lips press into the juncture of your neck and shoulder before he hugs you tighter and you let out a wheeze. You raise your hand, the other clean one still flat against the ridges of his back, and marvel at the way the siren lights play with the dark blood streaking across your skin.

And as you focus on the warmth flowing through your body, swirling in your stomach and ebbing down your arms, red sparks at your fingertips.

“Everything used to be normal,” you whisper, closing your fist tight. Crescent moons imprint on your skin as you close your eyes. Steve’s arms tighten around you and you let out shuddering cry. “What happened to me?”

“We’ll figure it out, alright?” He pulls you back by the shoulders, makes sure you meet his eyes because they are sure as stone. They anchor you and you cup his face, feel his heat. He feels so real.

You nod. The sirens stop and you can hear people walking, murmuring to each other, words you can hear that they might as well have screamed in your ear. Freak accident, crazy, broken.

“We’ll figure it out,” he repeats, hand tilting your chin up as he half-smiles. “We’ll figure it out, and I love you, and I promise you I will fix this, okay?” Your eyes widen and you suck in a helpless breath as his smile shrinks. “What is it? Are you hurt?” He looks down at your body, still sopping wet and freezing, but you can barely feel the numbness tingling at your feet. Heat shoots through your veins as you fling yourself at Steve again, wrapping arms around him. 

“You love me?” 

And he laughs, laughs and laughs against you until all you know is the sound of him in your ears and the feel of his heart against your chest. “Of course I do.” He turns your face so he can kiss you and you smile into his kiss, a wet smile that he doesn’t care about because any smile of yours is… priceless. 

“I love you, too,” you utter and he smiles against your mouth, eyes closing. “I love you so much.”

“That’s perfect, ‘cause I plan on staying around for a while.”

You roll his words in your head before smiling to yourself. Melting into his arms, you press your ear against his chest as red wisps curl coyly around your fingers and you look into your lap, stained with the black you’d coughed up and the slick of blood. 

“Thank you, Steve,” you whisper above the sirens. You can barely hear yourself think, but Steve merely holds your head to him, supports you in ways you cannot.

“Anytime.”

.

It’s 2014.

You pace the length of the glass, pulling at the electrodes connected to your head while Thor, Steve, and Jane all yell at you through the intercom to stop. It’s been twenty four hours and you haven’t slept in any of them. Instead, you refreshed yourself on French, Croatian, and Finnish.

Instead, you’ve recreated your room to look like scenic Sweden in the middle of summer and you’re strolling through the streets of Stockholm.

It’s a neat little trick, that.

“Look, if this Malekith wants to come get me,” you say, planting your hands on your hips as a bird flits past your head, “he can come get me. Can I at least get a breath of fresh, non-filtered air? It tastes stale.”

“Sorry, doll, but no.” Steve’s voice filters through the speakers in the room and you let out a frustrated groan, your fist flaring up as you throw him a glare. Or at least where you think he might be standing. The illusion burns away by red flames and you face the mirror and pale white walls you can see in the reflection. Your boring test chamber. Prison. “I know, it’s New Year’s, but—”

“Steve, save it. It is New Year’s, and Tony and I were supposed to go to Peter’s party because I promised him.”

You haven’t seen Peter in months. You wonder how he is, and you think it would be enough to hear voicemails, but instead it isn’t. Your phone is flooded with voicemails from him, voicemails you’ve saved and listen when it gets hard to sleep, and you want to show him the newest thing you’ve learned in your detention. The hopeful smile he’d have… the one full of wonder and his eyes…

Thinking of him just makes you miss that boy more, and you want to scream at the top of your lungs, but then Steve would tell you to be quiet and that Malekith can hear you, and whatever it is — the Aether — will flare up and you’re just so sick of sleeping in a glass cell like a test subject. 

Whatever.

“I’m sorry. I have no idea how to make this easier for you, but you just gotta look on the bright side.”

Not whatever.

If anything, you’re so sick of false promises. You’ll be out once we’ve run some tests, you’ll be okay, whatever’s inside you isn’t hostile and Viper, Viper, Viper, someone wants to come in and do another round of blood tests, maybe your chemistry has changed and— 

You want to snap.

“You’re right! I’ve only been here ever since you guys found me passed out in London. I can’t leave, I have fucking powers I can’t understand and apparently I can make anything I want become reality.” Whirling around, you spot the croissant you haven’t touched from breakfast yesterday and grab it as a surge of energy flows up to your palm. Immediately it flickers in your hand like some hologram, distorting until a croissant no longer rests in your palm, but a rich red apple. You show it to the three watching you, show them the fruit of your labour. “See that? I’m doing great controlling this thing, huh.”

“Doll, stop. Power spikes might tip off Malekith on your location and—”

“You know it’s real,” you comment, cutting off Steve coldly. Biting into the apple, flavour bursts on your parched tongue and you swallow down the fruit before you toss it in the air. Letting it land in your hand like a baseball, you look down at it. “Or, I think it is. It tastes real, and at this point, any type of reality feels better than this, y’know?”

“My lady, you must control your temper.”

“Thor’s right.” Jane’s soft voice makes you pause and you rip your gaze away from the bitten apple in your palm to the mirror. You can only stare at yourself, at how much you look like some insane asylum patient. The electrodes, the issued white jumpsuit in a white room with a white bed and everything burning white or silver, the ankle tag in case you walk out of your cell, because everyone knows you can.

After all, if you can literally turn water into wine when you want to, what else can you do?

“Thor’s right,” you repeat dully, a terrible smile etching itself into your face. “Yeah, he’s right. ‘Cause I’m crazy, right? And some dark elf is trying to kill me, but I should stay the sunshine girl, right?” If your every word was corrosive, you know the glass would have melted. Would’ve been fitting, and for half a moment you are tempted to burn the whole building down.

The searing heat singing in your arm balls at your wrist and you glance down to see bright red smoke spiralling down to the floor, kissing at the apple you have dug fingernails into and juice leaks down between your fingers. You let out a heavy breath when the heat is blown away, cool conditioned air puffing against your bare skin. At how everything is regulated, even the temperature, what you eat, your calories, your oxygen levels, everything tiny little thing you don’t know about.

A knot in your chest twists harder and you want to throw a bed across the wall or shoot something, or just go for a round of sparring but instead you settle for throwing the apple hard enough it splatters on impact. Bits of fruit go everywhere and you watch the juice track down your reflection as apple seeds clatter around you. You didn’t try to break glass, but you think you can hear something crack as you close your eyes.

“We could give you a few hours,” Jane says, apprehensive for a potential galactic war, maybe, worried about your sanity and her safety, definitely, “right?”

“Malekith will take any chance he has to reach the Aether. There is no time for whims of the one,” Thor says.

“Doll, I’m sorry—”

“No, shut up! I miss kissing you, Steve, okay? I’m horny! And I’m supposed to be normal, you know? As normal as I can get!” You fling your arms out to the side and you spin around from the bed where you have a tray of food that was pushed in the flap in the door resting atop your blankets. You slam a hand against the glass, red smoke running along the surface. Your breath comes out ragged and you look at your own reflection, eyes wide and your shoulders heaving. “I’m… I’m supposed to be Natalia’s pain in her ass, and I’m supposed to wake up in the morning next to you and bring Tony his coffee or tell him to sleep because Pepper’s out of town or help Peter with his homework. 

“I’m supposed to be there for him,” you whisper, eyes closing as a burning in the corners of your eyes track down your skin. Pressing your forehead against the mirror, you swallow down the lump in your throat. “I’m… I’m supposed to be figuring out whatever the hell they did to me with you, Steve, not… not alone. Not as some lab rat for S.H.I.E.L.D. to poke and prod.” Your hand runs flat along the cold surface and you look up at your own reflection, at the mess your hair is, at the paleness in your face and how gaunt you look. At the red that seems to flow through your veins instead of blue and how utterly witch-like you look. “I’ve had enough of that in the Red Room, and I thought I switched sides for a reason.”

“I’m right here, okay?” Steve murmurs through the speakers and you sniff, trying to imagine him on the other side of the glass. His blue eyes staring back at you — eyes you have not seen in months. His blond hair swept off to the side and maybe he’s wearing a white tee-shirt and that dark jacket you bought him as a parting gift when he got reassigned to Washington. “I swear, we’re going to get this son of a bitch, but for now, you’re just a walking dart board, and I know they won’t miss. I miss you so much, but I can’t lose you.”

“Steve.” You slide down onto the ground and it’s almost as if you can feel his heat. If you close your eyes tight enough, maybe you can imagine him just on the other side of glass you’re not too afraid to break. “I miss you, too.”

“We’ve had quite a courtship,” he teases and you chuckle, pressing your cheek against the mirror. “Long distance, then London, isolation, and hell, I promise I’ll take you wherever you want as soon as this is done. I’ll take one of Tony’s jets and we’ll go, fix this, find someone who can fix you. Marry you, if that’s what you want.” Red smoke flares brightly at your fingertips and you shove them beneath your thighs, snuffing it out.

Some part of you wants to feel grateful.

Another part of you wishes he told you there’s nothing to fix instead. Wishes Steve can just accept that this is who you are now, as you have.

“A wedding sounds nice. Like a jailbreak party,” you whisper and he laughs, crackling over the comms. “But I need a ring first.”

“Give me a few hours.”

When dinner rolls around, the door beeps and swings open to reveal Steve Rogers in sweatpants, one of his hoodies he bought in some Brooklyn corner store, and dinner.

You smile and invite him down to your cot where a TV hung on the wall plays Aliens.

“What do you say to a movie night?” He pulls the hoodie over your head. Tucking hair away from your face, he kisses you sweetly. He tastes like sugar and heat, and you plant your hands flat against his cheeks. 

The hoodie smells ripe of him and you dig your nose into the collar, inhaling deeply before looking up at him. “It’s sweet but how’d you convince Coulson to allow you in here?” The blond doesn’t respond except for another few quick pecks and you pull away from his seeking lips with a scandalized gasp. “He doesn’t know?”

“Would it kill you if I said no?” he mumbles and you laugh into his next kiss as he sets down the tray of food on the floor and plucks something off it. He slides off the bed, sinking to one knee before you and you rake hair away from your face, the elated smile freezing on your face as he cracks open a velvet box. “‘Cause it would kill me if you did.”

“Steve?” His name stutters in your throat as you stare at the diamond ring way above your pay grade. You have a sneaking suspicion that Tony had something to do with it but it sparkles, glimmers in the artificial light. “Steve, I was joking—”

“I wasn’t.” In sweats and a grey hoodie, Steve has never looked more like a god. The white light plays in his hair, turning it silver-gold and his eyes are alight with pure hope that you nearly melt as you sit on the edge of your bed, just… speechless. “I love you, and I’m here for you. Sickness and in health. So… what do you say?”

“Yes, but also, we can’t get married here,” you warn and he laughs, leaning over to kiss you as he picks the ring out from between the cushion of velvet. Sliding it onto your finger, he pushes you over against the bed and wraps an arm around your waist. Draping himself over you, he kisses your chin, your lips, down your neck and you giggle, outstretching your arm as the red mist curls around the ring, curious to what this new thing is.  

“Doesn’t have to be now, ‘s long as I got my yes,” he mumbles and you close your eyes. All of a sudden, the walls in your prison have pushed themselves out by three inches. Letting your hand fall back, you run your fingers through his hair. “And what was that again? You said you were horny or was that my imagination?”

“Rogers,” you warn, but you can’t help the way he chases away the weights sitting on your chest as he brushes kisses up and down your neck. “C’mon, they’re watching.”

“Oh, no, they’re not.” His fingers poke teasingly into your sides and you let out a squeak as he chuckles, lips meeting yours again. “Forgot how ticklish you are, doll.”

“Steven Grant Rogers—”

“Shhh,” 

“But dinner—”

“Can you forget about the stupid dinner? I’m trying to take your clothes off.” You wiggle beneath his body, hair splaying beneath your head and he growls, nipping lightly at your jaw just as his phone vibrates and he jerks back. Bracketed between his legs, you prop yourself up on your elbows and frown, the joy slipping away like oil. Weights crush down on your shoulders as Steve’s eyebrows knit together and you reach up to cup his cheek just as your vision flickers.

Like a faulty TV, it breaks with red and you blink at how Steve’s face seems to fizzle as your fingers meet his cheek. His blue eyes meet yours immediately, drowning away the red and you let out a sharp breath.

“Steve?” Your voice catches and he flinches back, stung. “Steve, what happened?”

“Something in Washington,” he whispers and he stumbles off the bed as you sit up. The heat of him leaves a chill on your body and you stand up. He texts furiously on his phone and you walk after him as he gets the door to open. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Can I help?” You reach for his arm and you can’t help yourself from wondering what on Earth is this important. You know Tony’s in town and Natasha can handle Washington. Hell, S.H.I.E.L.D. is based in Washington and whatever it is, surely— “Captain America doesn’t need to go, does he?”

“Look, I have to go.” He shakes off your hand and hurt slams into you like a truck at how he doesn’t so much as spare you a glance before he pockets his phone. “I’m sorry,” he says and you think he almost means it by the way his blue eyes widen inconsolably. “I’ll be back.”

“Steve!” He pushes you back deeper into the room just as everything flickers red and you let out a gasp as something digs into your brain. “Steve, wait!” Your hands clutch at your skull as you fall to your knees and you squeeze your eyes shut. The pain blisters, pulsing like a heartbeat inside your spine before it drains away as quick as it came, and you let out a shaking breath.

When you open your eyes, you see everything outlined in blood red, their edges flickering like TV static. The ring on your finger burns cold and you rip it off, flinging it into the glass.

It cracks, shatters your reflection, and you turn away so you do not see your own tears fall.

.

It’s 2015.

You breathe new air for the first time in ages and your lungs spasm in your chest as you feel the sun on your face. With your bags packed and ready, you stand at the entrance of the S.H.I.E.L.D. compound and wait.

Sokovia was two months ago and you have some new teammates to meet, apparently.

“Steve said he’d come pick me up, right?” you ask the agent standing next to you. He’s swiping on some datapad but turns to look at you with a smile. “A hundred percent?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Cool.” You twist the ring around your finger and pretend not to notice the imaginary ants you have crawling on your boot. It’s not like you’ve told Steve. You know he’s been busy with whatever made him run out on you the first time and you know he said he might be a little bit late picking you up, but you didn’t think Captain America believed in being tardy. Not really.

A part of you wants to be angry that he’s a hero, and another part of you wants to just go home on your own.

Thirty minutes roll by.

“Do you have any cars I could borrow?” you ask. Sighing, you don’t wait for an answer and pick up your bags. “I’ll just drive back on my own. New York isn’t too far from here.”

“Of course, ma’am.” The man smiles and you half-smile before you fish out your phone. “I’ll have someone bring one around to the lot.”

“Thank you for waiting with me,” you call and he merely nods before heading back in. A disappointed pang hits at your stomach as you walk over to the lot, and you try not to let it bite at your heels until you’re bleeding.

You’re sure your heart already is.

You drive back to the Avengers facility where Tony’s working with Bruce on something and the welcome you deserve resides in Tony’s arms. Nearly two years since you’ve seen him and some very exhausted part of you jumps at the sight of him. Even if he’s visited, you know nothing will ever compare to seeing the exhausted eyebags beneath his eyes.

“Welcome back, Little Miss!” he cheers and you grin, holding onto his neck tight. “Welcome back to society.” You nestle your head against him, holding on for a second more before pulling back. 

“Hey, Bruce,” you whisper, turning to hug him quickly and he smiles like how you think your dad might’ve when you came back after an unruly tussle when you pull back. Or maybe that was the Red Room and how the madame would smile when you beat every opponent in your class. Parts of Bruce’s face stretch too wide, and his eyes narrow when you blink, and you wonder if it’s your mind playing tricks or he really looks like a stone-cold killer behind warm brown eyes.

You don’t even want to think about it.

“Cap didn’t pick you up?” Tony asks and your gaze darts to him warily. His face flickers red and for a moment, there’s two of Tony in your field of view before it’s gone. “You okay?”

“Yeah. A lot’s happened, y’know?” you say with a slight smile and he smiles, then, too, sad and bittersweet. “Uhm, can you show me to my room, Tony?”

“Yeah, definitely.” He claps and the lab lights turn on systematically, revealing more than what’s illuminated on the table Bruce turns back to. “Bruce, if you could work on the… the thingy.” He doesn’t stop to hear the answer, guiding you out of the lab. 

“So…” You descend down the steps, your sneakers slapping against the tile as you pull yourself together. Red wisps, barely there and faint as steam, play at your fingers as you try to come up with a reason Steve just… disappeared. You’re getting good at that, making up excuses. “Steve didn’t pick me up, and I was wondering if you knew where he was?”

“Steve didn’t come?” Tony’s eyes land on you and you press your lips together as you shake your head. Shoving your hands in your pockets, you turn to look at your friend. “I—”

“It’s fine. Two years — basically — of solitary confinement and he just… doesn’t come to see me out. It must’ve been important.” You shrug then, and Tony frowns. “It’s okay, Tony. I love him, like not-crazy love him but close enough, and I know it had to be something important because we’re getting married, y’know?”

“Yeah, congratulations to the happy couple,” he says but it’s half-hearted. “You give Cap too much credit,” he adds under his breath and you frown, blinking as you look at the floor. Stomach the soil, seeds of doubt are planted deep in your gut as you run Tony’s words through your head. “He didn’t even text you?”

“Maybe it was a mission.”

“And he didn’t take Wilson?” Tony shoots back, and you look up jerkingly, eyes flashing to the man beside you as you stop at the lounge. He walks around to flop down on the couch and you nearly cringe at the crumbs littering the glass coffee table. Tony leans back, kicks up his feet, and slaps the space beside him.

“I still have to meet Wilson,” you mutter, crossing your arms across your chest and walking onto the carpet. Sitting down, you nearly sink into the cushion and let out a yelp. “Shit, this is comfortable.”

“Haven’t had luxury in a while?”

“I was in a detention facility, so no,” you retort and you lean in towards Tony’s heat. “I’m just gonna wait and maybe it’ll be okay, y’know?”

“Right.” Tony claps again before resting an arm along the back of the couch. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., can you show Vipe where her room is?”

“Right away, boss.” You sit up, tucking your feet beneath you just as the elevator dings. Looking towards the sound, you watch as the doors open and your mouth drops open as a blond and a redhead step out. “Ms. Romanoff and Mr. Rogers have returned.”

“From where, exactly?” Tony calls out and Steve immediately whips around to the sound of his voice. Natalia is basically sleepwalking as she rubs at her eyes and you stand, grabbing an empty cup from the coffee table. Red smoke fills up white porcelain as it fills with warm tea and you rush over to her, offering her the drink. 

“Hey, Tali,” you whisper as Natalia looks up sharply, blue eyes wide and sober. A face-splitting grin on her face, she knocks the white mug to the ground, hot tea spilling everywhere. It shatters, a sharp cacophony, and white shards go everywhere, hot tea splashing against your shoes.

“You’re out!” Her arms wrap around you tight and you let out a wheeze when she lifts you up but the smile dies as you meet Steve’s gaze. He looks stricken at the sight of you, but the corner of your mouth quirks up as your sister puts you back down. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there.”

“It’s okay. I drove myself back,” you whisper and you cup her face, relishing in the warmth of her smile before a yawn on her part breaks the moment and you grin. “Get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Promise,” she agrees and she heads up the stairs before you turn to Steve. Tony jogs past you, climbing the stairs after Natalia and you turn to watch them go before looking into his stricken face.

“Where were you?” you ask quietly, trying not to sound hurt. But you feel hollow, and everything is red when you’re not with Steve. “I really missed you these past few weeks.”

“Sorry. It got really busy with the new assignment,” Steve says with a shrug and you nod, pressing your lips into a smile as you open up your arms. “It’s really good to see you.” He walks into your embrace and you melt into his hold. “God, I’ve missed you.” His lips press against your hairline and you close your eyes.

“I love you,” you murmur and you tilt your chin up to look at him. His blue eyes are dark, tired, and he’s barely able to keep them open as you card your fingers through his hair. Just looking at him makes you feel so empty and whole at the same time that you know it has to be real. To feel such a paradox, such an oxymoron that you can’t even describe it, it must be real. “I love you, so it’s okay and you can tell me why you didn’t pick me up.”

“I needa tell you about Bucky,” he says and you thumb his cheek, feeling the soft swollen bags beneath his eye. He takes your wrist carefully, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of your wrist, eyes meeting yours beneath the hood of his brow.

“Tomorrow,” you say and he sighs against your palm. You step closer, your other arm wrapping around his waist as you tilt your head. “Whatever it is you need to tell me can wait. For now, shower and get some sleep.” The blue of his gaze lightens and he leans down to press a gentle kiss against your mouth. Breathing him in, you nearly sob at how soft his lips are, the smell of him so overwhelming — the smell of sea salt and smoke — that you feel your sinuses sting.

“Thank you,” he whispers, and you pull back with a nod. As he goes, you let your hand drop with a shattered sigh. Turning to watch him ascend the steps, you feel something inside you ache.

He looks as hollow as you feel.

.

It’s 2016.

“Couldn’t they put this as a PDF or something,” you murmur, trying to get a hold of the thick-as-fuck Accords. Words spin in your head as you flip over another page and Steve, with his arm around your shoulders, ignores you to argue with Tony. You sneak an arm around his waist, running it up and down his side as you scan the next few lines. “Save the trees.”

“I really don’t think that’s the U.N.’s priority right now,” Natalia comments from across the way and you sigh, setting it down in your lap. You can’t help the weird feeling in your stomach as wisps of red weave between your fingers. They seem to want to drag your hand back to the Accords and keep reading, but your head spins. 

“No, but it’s run by people with agendas, and agendas change.”

“That’s good. That’s why I’m here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing.”

“Tony, you chose to do that. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose,” Steve exclaims and you look up warily. Tony’s eyes meet yours for a moment before you turn your gaze back to the Sokovia Accords. “What if this panel sends us somewhere we don’t think we should go?” You unweave your arm from around Steve’s waist and stand, tossing the Accords onto the glass table between them. Wanda and Vision, sitting on a bench, reach for it. “What if there is somewhere we need to go, and they don’t let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.”

“Steve, I really think you need to read this,” you begin and razor sharp azure meets your eyes. “Look, if this doesn’t happen now, on our terms, they’re going to do this to us. That’s not going to be fun for any of us.”

“You’re saying they’ll come for me,” Wanda begins, and you whirl around to face the girl. She holds the Accords, too large for her slim frame and her eyes glow as red as your veins do. 

“We would protect you.”

“Look, Vision, that’s sweet, okay, but it’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“There are weapons of mass destruction in this room,” Tony continues, “and the government’s not going to allow a couple of nukes to walk in downtown New York. Ross had a point. Do we even know where Thor and Bruce are?”

“No.”

“Maybe Tony’s right.” Natalia sounds certain, and you turn to her, surprised as she breaks like static. Blinking, you see color other than red once again and try not to let it show on your face. Other than the fact that going from red-vision to full-colour still makes you surprised, you hadn’t expected her to pick a side so soon. You cross your arms as you sit down next to Steve once more. His arm falls around your shoulders as you tug at the skirt of your sundress. “If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off—”

“Aren’t you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?”

“What?” You look sharply at your sister who shrugs helplessly. Shaking her head, she looks at Wilson with a fierce stare.

“I’m just… I’m just reading the terrain. We have made… some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back.”

Something vibrates against your leg and Steve’s arm slides from your shoulders. You turn to look at it, distracted as Steve grabs it and you slide your arm along his shoulder as he reads whatever message he was sent. Running your thumb over the curve of his shoulder, you rest your head on his shoulder just as he gets up. Your arm falls flat and you catch yourself just barely.

“I have to go.” Steve’s voice cuts clear across the tension and you watch the man leave, throat knotted. You feel something inside you twist and your eyebrows furrow as you try to come up with some reason, some way you can follow.

“I’m going to, uh, go see what that’s about.” You clear your throat, getting up to follow after him and you hear his footsteps echo as he descends the steps before stopping at the landing. “Steve?” He leans against the banister and bows his head with a heavy sigh, and you come up to him with gentle hands. “Steve, what happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Steve, is it Bucky?” You lean in beside him, trying to get a read on his state as he pockets his phone and you sigh softly, trying to figure out what to say. “Is it the Accords? Because you seem pretty adamant on not signing.”

“And you are?” 

“I could’ve been the person who killed the Wakandans.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Someone did.” As soon as the words leave your lips, Steve’s head twists towards you, a frown pulling at the corner of his lips. He looks whole in your eyes, not a flickering edge in sight and you sigh at how much relief it brings you. “I’m not saying Wanda meant to do it on purpose, but she’s a kid and kids need supervision.”

“She had it.” Steve crosses his arms tight across his chest, and you turn to him, planting a hand on the rail and another on your hip.

“Did she? Because I read the report, Steve.” You throw up your hand, turning back to lean against the rail again as you try not to let your anger simmer. Your brow furrowed, your chest begins to tighten. “Rumlow said Bucky and suddenly, nothing else mattered, did it?” 

“Doll—”

“And… it feels…” You trail off, and you have no idea why. You think you’re softening the blow for him, but maybe you’re softening the blow for yourself.

“What?” Steve’s voice, sharp as daggers, sinks into you and you drag your gaze towards him. He looks shocked, pale as a sheet with rosy lips barely parted as you let out a soft exhale. 

“It feels true.” You shake your head before meeting his eyes. “Look, it doesn’t matter. What does is that I’m going to sign. Because we may not be kids, but we are dangerous and we need oversight.” Fingers reaching for his, you’re stung when he pulls his hand away. Clenching your jaw, you try to keep your voice hushed.  “Steve, I don’t want to fight.” 

“We can barely agree on when to get married, doll.” When he looks at you, it’s almost as if he stares right through you. “I don’t see how we can’t fight when we can barely make the small things work.”

“This isn’t some small decision! This isn’t choosing a winter wedding or a summer wedding, or whether the napkins should be folded in a Sydney Opera House or a lotus. This is whether or not we allow ourselves to get arrested or we play our cards right.”

“I’m not trusting a panel who won’t care about the people we’re supposed to be protecting.”

“You don’t know that.”

“It’s happened before.”

“Okay, but this isn’t S.H.I.E.L.D.” Your voice sharpens and you bite your tongue. “This is something we can give input to. What do you think they’re going to do when we disagree? Restrain us?”

“It isn’t that simple! Just because you see everything black and white doesn’t mean I have to. We can’t just choose to give over our rights and be okay with it.”

“You’re the one who’s seeing things black and white! Because this is a fucking grey area and we are drowning in it. This is… It’s not easy to just hand over the keys to people who don’t know us but we need this.” You struggle to find the words. “Steve, open your eyes and just… just understand that I want us to stay together. And if you do this, it’s almost as if you don’t care.”

“I’m standing up for what I believe in. I thought you could respect that,” he whispers harshly and you hold back a groan in frustration. Planting a hand on your hip, you look at him with narrowed eyes.

“And you don’t believe in family? In staying together? Because we can make changes. I promise, and you can still search for Bucky, I just—” Your breath hitches in your throat and Steve looks at you, eyebrows quirked. “Bucky.”

“What about him?”

“It’s Bucky. It’s always Bucky,” you whisper so quietly under your breath you don’t know if you even said it. “Natalia told me that—” You turn to look at the top of the stairs desperately. You can’t begin to describe how much you want to run up the stairs, down the hall and never look back. But you’re an optimist.

You always have been.

“Told you what?”

“That I’d never be your first choice.” The words come out bold and burning, and you can feel the ash it has left in your gums as you clench your jaw. You can still hear your sister’s voice echoing in your skull, whispered in confidence the day after one of Steve’s secret missions when he was looking for Bucky. Specifically, the mission that caused him to miss your birthday. You can still taste the bitterness, the tears that pressed bruises into your throat. “And I think he’s part of the reason why you won’t sign the Accords. Because you’re afraid they’ll issue sanctions if you go on your secret, unauthorized missions.”

Steve sighs, and his eyebrows knit together as you wrap your arms around yourself. You stare at him, wait for him to deny it, but you know he won’t. Because you’re in love with a man who supposedly loves you, but clearly doesn’t love you enough.

“Ever since Bucky came back into your life, it’s all you ever think about,” you continue, leaning against the banister once more. You cross your legs at the ankles, and turn to look at him. Your eyes immediately soak in the shadows that play across his face, the way the pale blue light of the sunroof has cast him a god of wind and sea. “And even though I’m talking to you… you’re not even here.”

Steve’s gaze darts to yours and you hold it, searching for someone who you haven’t seen in years. 

“I love you,” he insists and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down so you can breathe in his scent. He smells cool and clean, like sleep, and you want to go back to yesterday, last week, last year. You want to go back to when you were too afraid to break a bubble that you lived in, when the Accords didn’t exist. “I’m in love with you, but I’m so damn sorry.” His whispered words push into your mouth as you kiss him chastely, a barely-there kiss that makes your heart mend and break. His forehead knocks into yours and you hold him there for a moment, just watching the tiny little twitches of his face. Burning him into your head.

“It’s okay,” you say, hand stroking over his face and into his hair. His eyes half-mast, he just watches you as red runs beneath your palm, through your veins. His hands are shoved in his pockets, and it just makes you all the more aware of the hole he has carved in the shape of pieces he took from you. He won’t even touch you. “I can’t compete with what you and Bucky have.” 

“I don’t want you to. You’re the only one I want—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” you murmur and he closes his eyes pulling away to stare at his feet. He grips the handrail and you stare into your palms, red playing against your flesh. The silence is thick and you swallow, trying to think of something to say — anything. Your chest is smashed to ashes and an ache spreads in your lungs as you close your eyes, hot tears sliding over your cheeks. “Steve—”

“I’ve got to go,” he mumbles and you’re not quite sure if the salt on your lips is yours or his as he presses a quick farewell kiss to your mouth and pulls away. He wipes at his face with a sleeve, and you wipe at your cheeks with the back of your hand as he turns away to hide his red-rimmed eyes and sniffing you can still hear. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Yeah, you always do,” you murmur and you watch him go as he bows his head, sleeve to his face. Sucking in a cold breath, you lean against the banister and tilt your head back. Closing your eyes, you try to ignore the migraine digging into your skull.

But you can’t. It only grows when you sign, and with the deadline to bring in Steve Rogers, and nearly tears you apart as you fly to Germany.

“Are you okay?” Peter asks as you walk to your position in the airport. He looks good in his new suit Tony had designed and you smile tiredly as he fidgets with the mask. You ruffle his hair, leaning over to kiss his forehead before trying to reinforce your weak smile.

“Yeah, I am. Watch yourself out there, okay?” you add and he nods as he opens up his mask. “If May finds out Tony smuggled you into Germany, my ass is going to pay for it.” He half-laughs, and you nudge him towards his hiding spot. “Go kick some ass.”

And you do, and he does, and you think maybe team Iron Man might make it work bringing in a rogue Captain America without J-SOC.

That is, until the giant.

“Okay, anybody on our side hiding any shocking and fantastic abilities they’d like to disclose? I’m open to suggestion.” Tony’s voice echoes in your ear, adding to the headache balling up between your eyes as you throw yourself at Clint. The man catches you by the rod of his bow as you wind yourself around his waist and flip him over.

“Would it kill you if I said I have untapped energy potential?” you ask into your comms and Clint sends you a confused look as you roll your eyes through the pain. Everything is hazy red and red mist spills from your hand as you stop Clint from swinging at you with a baton.

“No, I like that idea.”

“Tony, it’s not a good idea.”

“It was a joke, Stark,” you growl, flinging Clint away. The rod of his bow skids a few feet away and you scramble towards it, snapping it open with a sling. As you pull the string taut, an arrow forms between your fingers and you let it fly, following after Hawkeye with a barrage of arrows and keeping him busy running. “I’m trying not to kill anyone today.”

“Understood, Madame Secretary,” Tony teases and you squint an eye, letting another arrow fly just as Clint jumps onto the walkway leg. It nearly tags him in the ankle and you draw the string once more, black metal materializing between your fingers just as someone tackles into you. You’re slammed into the ground with a hard groan, your head snapping back into concrete. You hear something crack and you groan as Sam Wilson’s voice rattles in your ears. 

“I got her, Steve. It’s a go from me.” 

Steve… you repeat in your head, dazed. Turning over, you watch as Sam takes off after a jet and you try to get up. When you blink, your world is covered in red film, breaking like faulty holograms and you let out a sharp breath, trying to rub it out. The roar of the jet echoes in your heart, weaves into your chest as you reach out a hand. Red energy curls against your palm, soothing a nefarious drilling digging deep into your brain. Steve is getting away, and I can’t stop him. No, no, no— 

It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together — to know Steve’s the one who put a target on your back. Blood shoves its way up your mouth as the ball of pure agony in your head explodes. 

“They’re getting away.”

“Get up, Viper! Come on, get up! You can stop them!”

You can’t get up. You can barely see as you plant your hands against the ground. Blood slick against your palms, you roll onto your stomach as you try to push yourself up. Shockwaves shake your bones and you let out a painful groan when your head tips you over. Landing on your side, you feel something warm dribble down your chin.

“Vision, I got a bandit on my six.” 

“What’s happening?” Peter’s innocent question makes you turn blindly towards him and you reach out just as strong arms hoist you onto your knees and you try to open your eyes only for white light to seep into your irises. “What’s happening? Are you okay? Hey, hey, hey, are you okay?”

“Vision! You copy? Target his thrusters, turn him into a glider.”

“Pete.” His name is thick in your mouth as you pat blindly and you come into contact with his face as you cough, black dotting the edges of your vision and you let out a groan when the blood pooling in your chest sloshes against your lungs. “It hurts. Shit, it hurts, Pete, it hurts so bad.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Oh, god, what do I do? Is there some way I can make it better?”

“Pete, you gotta go. You needa go, you needa go.” You can feel his arms holding you up as your hands trace down his cheeks and onto his neck, streaking blood all over his skin. You can barely see him but you know that he is smiling through his tears, tears that run over your knuckles and you think, brave boy. A brave boy who shouldn’t be here. “Pete, go.”

“I’m not gonna leave you here alone! You’re hurt, and I don’t know what to do. What do I do? Where does it hurt?”

“Rhodey!”

“Everywhere! Fuck, my head, Pete, you need to just… go. It hurts, it hurts. Make it stop,” you whimper as a ripple of agony travels across your skull. Jerking back, you rake your hands through your hair, trying to keep your eyes open through the tears. Everything is blinding white and red as you catch a glimpse of Peter’s face, brown eyes wide and tears dripping down his face as a double of him flashes before your eyes. A jackhammer digs into the center of your mind and you let out a scream, a pulse thundering through your body as you flare scarlet red.

“Tony, I’m flying dead stick.”

“No—”

“Leave me alone.” The words slip out of your mouth, incoherent, barely audible as voices begin to echo in your head. You half-recognize some of them, and others you barely know as frost sinks into your limbs, paralyzing you. Your whole body rigid, you fall to your elbows and knees as Peter’s hands hover around you. You can feel his warmth, every single molecule of his being, the racing of his heart and the soft whomsh of his blood. His breathing echoes in his ear, and you can hear his fingers twitching, the blink of his eye, the thickness in his throat, the roar of the quinjet and the sound of a body whistling through the air, falling faster and faster, too fast, and two men desperate to catch him—  

You can barely hear your own thoughts and your breaths come in sharp, painful gasps as you try to sort through the storm in your head — your thoughts from whatever it is that lives inside you, or changed you, or whatever it did because you can hear voices in languages you don’t understand and everything turns red, static and breaking apart as your reality crumbles to pieces around you.

��Let me help—”

“Leave me alone!” Pushing him away blindly, a surge of heat sinks its teeth down into your bones as everything inside you breaks. You pitch forward, bones snapping as voices echo in your head, and the ground splits beneath your hands.

“RHODES!”

.

It’s 2023.

You wear a black sweater because Pepper said it’d look nice and the heels Tony bought for you after the Civil War that’ve been gathering dust in the apparent five years you’ve been gone.

A part of you wants to toss the heels into the lake when the service is down, and you want to see if you can siphon what is left of the energy you have to bring Tony back to life. But you can’t. So you don’t try. You sit at the edge of the lake as the water laps at your feet, and you send gentle wisps of red over the soft waves as they lap at your feet. Tony’s last message echoes in your head, and you can picture him so clearly. And Natalia too, her last words to you— 

“Don’t go—”

The wisps take shape, mere figures of shadows of Tony and you and Natalia, memories playing like puppets on strings, jagged and sharp and all too wrong.

“Hey.” 

The figures vanish, sink into the water, and you flinch at the sound of his voice. Putting on a smile, you turn around and he stands there, hands shoved in his suit pocket, face pale and swollen around the eyes. Wiping at your own tears, you stand up and clear your throat.

“Hey, Steve.”

“Natasha’s service is tomorrow, so I was thinking we should all get some rest,” he says and you nod, turning back to the lake. He steps up to the shore beside you and you try your best not to look at him, no matter how much you want to. Your ring seems to cut off the blood to your finger as he breathes in quietly. “How are you?”

“I’m alive,” you reply softly. “Guess that’s what matters.”

“Doll—”

“Don’t call me that. Just…” You turn to him and stare into his glossy blue eyes, eyes that you haven’t seen in so, so long. Your heart nearly snaps in two as his lower lip trembles and you throw your arms around his neck, embracing him so tightly you can barely breathe. “I missed you so much, Steve. Oh, god, I miss you.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers hoarsely, and then suddenly his arms are around you, squeezing the life you’ve just gotten back out of you and you run your fingers through his gelled hair. “Germany, I— I never meant for that to happen.” Cold water douses whatever warmth you feel and you pull back, face pulled back in a terrible mask of an empty smile. “I never meant to leave you in the middle of one of your breaks.”

“Steve, that was apparently seven years ago and… it was for Bucky. You’d do anything for him. Do anything for anyone from your past, apparently,” you whisper and he tries to smile, but even he can now see how finished you are. How you’ve given up, and you wonder if that can scare him any more than it scares you. “And it’s sweet, and admirable, and that kind of loyalty is rare. I wish someone was like that with me, but… it’s just… you were always the only one who could stop me and in Germany… in Germany you were the reason it happened.” His arms fall away and you step back, clearing your throat. “But it’s in the past, now.”

“Doll—”

“Steve, fighting Thanos was the fucking scariest thing of my life, and I wanted to kill him so badly I tore open what Stephen Strange thinks is a multidimensional tear. Because I lost control, and I didn’t want to come back.” You can still recall the feeling — like free falling and knowing the clouds will catch you — as you just let go of everything holding you up. Of falling into the darkness and just barely snagging the last of the light so you can pull yourself out again if you wanted to.

And you didn’t want to until it was over.

Until Tony was dead.

“Everything from the past doesn’t matter, because I have more important things to fix,” you continue blithely. Steve barely has time to open his mouth before you lean up to kiss his lips. “I love you, Steve.” 

“I need to tell you something—”

“I’m not in the mood to talk, Steve. My best friends are dead, and it’s permanent. I’m not so lucky as you.” You force a smile onto your face and run a hand up and down his arm in farewell. “I’ll see you at the cabin.”

You don’t.

It is Bucky who tells you the man is gone.

You would laugh at the irony — Bucky is the one telling you the love of your life is gone — if you didn’t feel like this. Like your world is ending and like you’re not good enough and like the ring on your finger was just a cheap way to keep you around. 

Instead you thank him, and go to Natasha’s funeral. Because that’s what you do.

You look to the future. You are the sunshine girl after all. The Viper who can shed her skin and move on.

The Viper who is searching for someone. Who doesn’t know yet, but someone who doesn’t want to fix her, because she is not-fine-but-accepting of the way she is now. Who isn’t searching for someone else, someone from their past, someone you aren’t and can never be.

And you find him, weeks after the Battle, in one of New York’s finest bars.

Because if Steve Rogers is a loyal golden retriever, then Quentin Beck is the snake in the garden.

[clintbartonswife]

Hostages

Pairings: Peter Parker x Reader, (background irondad) Summary: The two of you were doing your regular rounds of Queens when you were taken @whumptober2019​ #27 : Ransom Warning: kidnapping, (tame) torture masterlist  ||  whumptober masterpost

“Y/N - please wake up - please, please, please wake up”

You groaned, the panicked voice sounding slightly louder now.

“Oh god, you’re alive - okay you can do this, I just need you to open your eyes - c’mon”

Listening to the voice, you fought against the heaviness of your eyelids, eyes fluttering open.

A choked sob escaped Peter’s throat as he watched you move, his voice hoarse from talking to you for the past few hours. He watched with glistening eyes as you groggily took in your surroundings, a million apologies ready to spill over his lips.

“Pete?” 

Your voice was croaky, head thumping in pain with every tiny movement you made.

“Yes - Yeah, I’m here. I’m here”

Hating the way he was crying, you went to move over to reassure him, stopping abruptly as the chains kept you tethered to the wall yanked you back. Panic began to build as you made eye contact with Peter, your chest constricting painfully as you realised both of your masks were off. 

“What happened?”

“I don't know - we were swinging and then - I woke up and you were slumped in the corner - I thought you were dead, you’ve been out for hours” he stammered, voice thick with barely restrained tears, “I don't know why we’re here. I really don't”

Before you could try to console him, the door swung open with a large bang, three heavy-set men walking in, each wearing matching smirks.

“So two of the avengers are teenagers, huh” one said, mockery clear in his tone, “I wonder why Stark would ever let people who get captured this easily on the team”

Both of you didn't dare speak, eyeing the metal bat in one of the men’s grip.

“You may be wondering why you’re here, to put it quite simply you’re hostages, so we’re gonna need you to say a little hello to Mr Stark”

The man on his left brought out a camera and started filming, a sadistic smile on his face.

“How about you first princess?” He asked, turning to point the bat at you, “Wanna say a little hello?”

You just glared back, not saying anything, fists clenching in anger.

“Oooh we have a feisty one boys, teach them a lesson”

“No! Don't touch her!” Peter yelled, pulling against his restraints as the first hit of the bat landed on your stomach, knocking the air from your lungs, “Stop it! Stop it!”

You could do nothing to stop the grunt of pain that escaped your lips, your eyes refusing to look away from Peter as you tried to show him that you were okay.

After a few more hits, they backed off, leaving you on your side, body radiating with pain.

“How about you boy, you want to say hi to Mr Stark?”

Peter turned to look at them with pure venom in his eyes, faltering only at the minuscule shake of your head.

“Hello”

“See? It wasn’t that hard was it” the man chuckled mirthlessly, gesturing for the recording to stop, “we’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t try anything stupid”

As soon as the door shut again, Peter strained against his bonds to try and get a better look at you.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

“‘M fine” you groaned, “was my fault”

He let out a low growl, “we’re gonna get outta here. I promise”

“I know Petey”

Silence settled over the two of you as you began to move, trying to get back to your sitting position to alleviate the pressure from the quickly-forming bruises on your side. It turned out to be more difficult than it looked, the lost use of your arms making it incredibly difficult to move without hurting yourself further.

Peter just watched helplessly as you struggled, wincing every time a soft whimper fell from your lips. He wasn’t used to seeing you like this - vulnerable - but it terrified him. Lips setting into a thin line, he started to struggle with the cuffs around his wrists, searching for any way to free his arms so he could get to you.

“We’re gonna be okay” he grunted, voice slightly scratchy from the tears lodged in his throat.

“Yeah we are”

“Can you pay attention for just another three minutes please” Steve sighed, running his hands over his face exhaustedly. 

The avengers had just got back from a mission out of state, unearthing some HYDRA files that opened a whole pile of Pandora's boxes.

“We’ve been going over this for an hour Cap” Tony snarked back, relaxing further back in his set, feet resting on the table, “We’re all tired and want to sleep”

“I’m sorry Steve, but couldn’t we go over this tomorrow?” Bruce asked quietly, “I don't think I’ll remember any of this anyway, I’ve got the onset of a migraine”

Steve sighed again (something he was finding himself doing a lot lately) and nodded, folding his arms.

“But we go over this tomorrow, 8 am sharp”

“Roger that” Clint saluted, moving Nat’s feet off of his lap and making his way to the door. He stopped as FRIDAY’s voice startled the room.

“Incoming message for Mr Stark - it’s urgent sir”

“It better not be the senator again because I swear to -”

“It’s a video. I have identified Mr Parker and Ms Y/L/N”

Natasha’s eyes hardened at the mention of the two youngest avenger’s names.

“Play the video”

The whole room watched with baited breath, Sam letting out an angry curse as they watched you get beaten. Tony just sat there, mind racing with worst-case scenarios.

What if he was too late? What if you were both already dead?

“FRIDAY” Tony’s voice was hollow, ignoring the hostage message at the end of the clip, “Track the sender immediately”

“Yes boss”

Steve walked over to Tony’s side, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. The billionaire looked up from his clenched fists, seeing his determination mirrored in Steve’s eyes.

“Let’s go get those sons of bitches”

Peter let out an angry huff, his wrists rubbed raw from his failed escape efforts. You watched as his face screwed up in frustration, banging his head backwards against a wall.

“I cant” he said, eyes closed in defeat, “I’m sorry”

“No, I’m sorry. I cant even sit up properly. I’m not much help”

You smiled as he huffed a laugh, your slumped posture hiding the worst of the bruises that had already begun to bloom along your side.

“They’ll find us, it’s just a matter of time” Peter said suddenly, as if reassuring himself.

“Of course they will. You know Mr Stark would never leave you out here to die”

He frowned at this, shuffling towards you as far as he could, his eyes shining earnestly through the quickly dimming sunlight which filled the room.

“They’ll be coming for both of us. Not just me”

You nodded, mostly for his sake, making the serious expression on his face lessen slightly.

“Sure Pete. I know that”

Before he could protest any further, a loud explosion shook the base. The initial noise was followed by an outbreak of shouts, the door to the room you were in flying open with such intensity that it was ripped from the wall.

Steve stood in the doorway with a relieved expression, calling for Tony.

“We’re gonna get you outta here” he said, rushing towards you, Tony appearing behind him and hurrying over to Peter, muttering furiously under his breath.

You winced slightly as he untied you, the bruises beginning to throb again from the movement.

“I knew you’d come! See? I told you they would y/n” Peter grinned, rubbing his sore wrists before giving Tony a quick hug.

“Yeah - thanks for this” you mumbled, nodding at Steve, who wrapped his arm around you to help you to your feet.

“‘S no problem kid, we just need to focus on getting you both out of here, alright?”

The corridors were filled with the sounds of fighting, the tell tale sound of Clint’s snickering meaning he probably hit one in the butt. When they reached a certain point, Steve passed you over to Tony, giving you a reassuring smile before rushing to help Sam who had just been thrown against the wall.

“Just hold onto me” Tony grinned, faceplate locking back on as the thrusters at his feet burst to life, carrying the two of you to the quinjet.

Later that night, as you were all gathered in the common room of the tower, hot chocolate in your hands, you allowed yourself to see it how Peter had been trying to show you since the beginning.

Not a team, but a family.

________________________________________________________________

Tags:  @geeksareunique  @bangtan-serendipity

[peggysousfan]

Agent Carter An Au Series

So I’ve finished chapter 11.... and chapter 12 will be the crossover chapter! I’m so excited!. It will take some time to write it because I have to watch my dvds of the show and try to incorporate this story into it. I hope y’all enjoy this chapter!:) I look forward to writing more!!

Daniels POV:

Its been four months since Stephanie was born, and I gotta say, she is the sweetest kid ever. Shes adorable, without a doubt, smart, strong, and insanely happy. Even though shes only 4 months old, she punches like a kid I've never seen, which is something, and she actually tries to read when Peggy reads to her. Her eyes follow along to Peggy's voice and its like they're glued to the pages.  I think shes the cutest kid I've ever seen, not that I'd ever say that in front of my niece and nephews. Her hair has gotten darker, and curlier, but her eyes are a piercing blue. I think they might stay like that. I'm guessing her dad had blue eyes, because Peggy's are a blend of dark and light brown.

Today is Saturday, and Peggy and I have developed a routine of me cooking every Saturday and her on Sundays or Mondays, depending on my work schedule. Stephanie is currently sitting on the table, next to my plate, batting at my napkin. I take it and raise it up in the air to wiggle it; she bats at it some more like a cat. I look up and notice Peggy laughing.

"Whats so funny?" I ask.

"Nothing. You're just so good with her. She loves spending time with you." I couldn't fight the grin off of my face even if I tried.

"Yeah well, I've had practice. I've been around babies before, not everyone else had had the luxury or experience.That and I love to spend time with her too, don't I little miss?" She reaches for the napkin and takes it, then starts sucking on it. I distract her with the shining spoon and take it from her mouth, and then she turns up her tiny nose and grunts. God I love this kid. She continues to reach for the napkin as Peggy speaks.

"I guess thats true." She folds her hands in front of her and stares at Steph. "I know her father wouldn't have know the first thing to do. I once seen him hold a baby as if it were a grenade about to go off!" We laugh and the baby catches on, giggling with us. Peggy hardly ever talks about Stephanie's dad.

"They sometimes do blow up like bombs... All over your clothes."

"Oh good heavens don't remind me! She did that this morning and I had to change at least twice." Stephanie catches the napkin again and raises it in the air as a sign of victory. Victory over ruing her mothers clothes more like. She giggles and squirms around, and then Peggy takes her.

"Do you think her eyes are gonna stay like that? That glowing blue color."Peggy looks up at me, and her body tenses up.

"I'm not sure... If they do though, perhaps it will be the only thing she inherits from her father..." The last bit of her sentences was muttered, and I almost didn't hear it.

"Why do you say that?" Maybe I shouldn't have asked that. She tense up more and shakes her head.

"Say what?"

"That you hope her eye color is the only thing she gets from her dad..?" She closes her eyes and sighs. I don't think she meant to say it out loud. Stephanie drops the napkin and starts to grab Peggy's hair.

"I-Its uhm.. nothing."

"Peggy.." She avoids eye contact and tries to get Steph to stop pulling on her hair. "Peg? Whats wrong?"

"Nothing." She says too quickly. Over the past four months Peggy and I have gotten a lot closer. I've told her about my mom and how she died, my brother being tortured and how I was there, .. I even told her about my leg; well most of it. She told me more about her brother and how they argued right before he died, how she was engaged to this British officer guy and left him, and ... even talked about the death of Steph's father. She didn't go into a lot of details, but she did admit they weren't married and thats why she hated the name 'Mrs. Carter'. The boundaries that we have around each other are slim, and I hardly question myself around her anymore. So now its time to get personal, and hopefully I'm not breaking one of the few boundaries we have.

"Peg, do you remember, four months ago, the time when Steph wasn't nursing? And I told you how... I wasn't able to have my own anytime soon because of this" I pull out my crutch.

"Of course I do. I also remember telling you to never say the word that we agreed you'd never say."

"Right. But do you also remember, how you gave me a little pep talk about not letting things get to me? To open up to you and know that you'd be there even when the world wasn't?"

"Daniel... of course I remember. How could I forget?" She seems less tense and more relaxed now that the subject has been taken off of her.

"Okay, just keep that memory in mind."

"Why..?"

"Because I'm going to give you the same advice." Shes taken back by my statement and sets Stephanie on her lap.

"Why is that necessary?"

"Because... I want you to know that you can trust me and talk to me. You don't have to hold things back, Peggy. I won't judge you, you know that. I'm here to listen and help. Thats what friends do." She looks away from me as if thinking, and maybe a little upset. I knew I shouldn't have pushed. For several minutes we sit in almost complete silence. The only noise is Steph cooing and giggling.She starts to play with Peggy's necklace when Peggy starts to speak.

"Its ... complicated. I-... I've never really talked about it to anyone; about Stephanie's father." I nod my head and go along with whatever she has to say. I've already pushed her enough. "Its a very.. delicate... situation, and not one I'm proud of."

"What do you mean?"

"I loved her father, Daniel. Very much. He was a good man. He was... loyal, strong, brave, and...selfless. No matter what the consequences of his actions, he did everything in his power to save the innocent and capture the guilty. He never wanted to kill... He only wanted peace and to stop those that thought they were above the world; like bullies, he said." Her leg is starting to shake and I can see Steph bouncing up and down, giggling. "I loved him for it...but I wasn't in love with him." I knew Peggy cared about the guy, cause of course, they have a kid together. And every time I hear her talk about him, I close up; I feel like I'm being restricted, and my heart hurts. I shouldn't be jealous of a dead guy, but I was. I think  Stephanie is sensing Peggy's emotions, because now shes starting to fuss. I reach over and Peggy gives her to me. Normally if Peggy can't calm her down, I can. "He took advantage of me, Daniel. And I will never be able to  forgive him for it. But hes done so much good for this world, I could't help but name her after him."

"Took advantage of you?" I couldn't help myself, it just slipped out.

"I knew that Steve was interested in pursuing a.. less professional relationship with me. But I never batted an eye at him. Anytime he would try and flirt, I would simply laugh it off or walk away." She stops as the memories play in her mind, and she starts crying. Way to go Daniel...          "We were all playing cards in a pub, and in the end it was just the two of us. He kept ordering drinks and I got drunk... and I can't remember anything from the rest of that night. It wasn't until weeks later I discovered I was pregnant with Stephanie." We sit in silence for several seconds; I don't know what to say.

"I'm so sorry,Peggy." She tries to hide her face as she cries.

"He knew... he knew I didn't think of him that way, and yet he still...ugh, mmh" Shes on the verge of sobbing. I get up from my seat, Steph in one arm, come up behind Peggy, and embrace her. She grabs a hold of me and lets it all out. When she settles down she still holds onto  my arm. As I look down at her I can hear her sniffle. "I'm sorry..."

"You don't have anything to apologize for anything, Peg. Its not your fault." She sniffles some more and nods her head, her curls have loosened up from being upset. She leans back as much as she can into me, and then turns to me. Our eyes meet and I smile at her. Shes been  through a lot, and  I hope she knows I'm here. She takes my hand and kisses my palm. I'm still stunned by this, even though I shouldn't be. Over the last four months she has kissed my cheek several times, and my hand once when I injured it, not that thats relevant.

"Thank you."

"No need to thank me. I'll always be here Peggy, whenever you need me. I know you'll do the same."

"Right, sorry."

"Peg... You don't need to apologize either."

"Sorry." She closes her eyes and we both laugh, enjoying the moment we have now.

"Here, do you want her back?" She wipes her cheeks and shakes her head.

"No thats alright, you can hold her."

"You sure? I know you won't be able to see her for all day, for 5 days, all next week. Are you sure you don't want her back?" She looks at me lightly and starts to laugh.

"I'm sure, Daniel. I've had four months with her, all to myself. I'm alright with not holding her for several minutes. I'll live, I promise." Peggy starts working again next week and I know shes a little worried. When we had dinner last week, she told me she found a job at as a telephone operator, and that she wouldn't be working crazy hours so soon. I didn't know telephone operators had to work crazy hours, but I take her word for it, at least on that matter. The matter of not seeing Stephanie for at least 6 hours, is one I know she dreads. Shes right in saying shes had her to herself, everyday, for four months. But that same reason is why she could go insane; she'll miss her daughter. Steph isn't even my kid, but I hate going hours without seeing her, and when I come home? Seeing her is the best part of my day. I can only imagine what Peggy is going to go through when she has to leave her. Once Peggy starts working, I know our dinners will deplete in numbers, if they happen at all. All we can do, right now though, is enjoy our time together, and I'll be damned if I don't.

[elcorhamletlive]

fandom: Marvel Ultimates ship: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark tags: Established Relationship/Tooth-Rotting Fluff/Cuddling

As soon as the door opens, Steve is already regretting it.

“Hello, darling,” Tony says, walking inside in slow, relaxed steps. He takes off his coat in a smooth movement, hand reaching to loosen his tie. It’s hard not to watch, not to feel enthralled by his casual elegance. It’s different from his usual performative flippantness. There’s nothing rehearsed about it – it’s softer and warmer, though still graceful, made even more mesmerizing by the thought so few people get to see it.

On Steve’s lap, the package feels clumsy and heavy, poorly made with its boring, plain paper.

“Hi,” he mumbles, hands tightening around it. It had been so hard, to think of something Tony could want. He had spent days uselessly looking at outrageously priced watches and social shoes that all looked the same to him. He wanted something that Tony could actually use, something he didn’t have yet.

A wool scarf, then, seemed like a good choice. Steve learned knitting at school, for the troops; then, at war, he mostly used it for code messages. In both instances, it had been a simple, functional thing. Though the process was delicate, the soldiers didn’t care about how their socks or tactical orders looked like: they cared about the practicality, about whether it would keep them warm or fool the enemy side.

Steve has always been good with practical things. He had thought he could make something actually comfortable for Tony to wear, something warmer than his usual flashy clothes.

(He wants Tony to be warm more often. At night, in bed, he can sometimes feel him shaking, and he can pull him closer, hold him. During daytime, it’s harder to muster the courage, and he doesn’t like the thought of Tony shivering. He just doesn’t.)

Now, though, the logic seems silly, falling to pieces little by little. If Tony wanted a wool scarf, he’d already have one – Tony could have any scarf money could ever buy. Besides, nothing Steve could make would ever come close to the elegance and opulence of something Tony would actually wear.

Tony kicks his shoes off, and Steve briefly considers giving up the idea entirely.

It’s not even the right day anymore – he completely missed the actual date, too focused on work to even remember. To be fair, Tony didn’t seem to care, just wrapping his arms around him and whispering my valentine on his ear when he got home. There had been no gifts or celebrations, which Steve appreciated, but the syrupy, warm tone of Tony’s voice on his ear travelled through his body like it did every night, and he had felt so warm and comfortable, in Tony’s arms when falling asleep, that it made sense to think of something, anything to give him in return.

It had taken him weeks, because he kept undoing it and starting it over, frustrated with his clumsy stiches and unable to pick a color. He had finally settled on a blue, because it reminded him of Tony’s eyes, but now, even that feels like a bad decision – he can’t remember the last time he ever saw Tony actually wearing blue, and, damn, Tony would want his clothes to match, wouldn’t he?

“So glad to see you’re home,” Tony says, turning and walking towards him. Home sends a rush in Steve’s chest, an impossible word that seems to only take shape and feel real when out of Tony’s lips. “I could’ve sworn that meeting was never going to end.” He sits by Steve’s side, hand cupping his face, pressing a lingering kiss on the corner of his mouth. Steve swallows. “How was at Shield?”

“Fine,” Steve grunts, still a little dizzy from all the sudden contact. He’s supposed to be getting used to it by now, after almost a year, but it’s still overwhelming sometimes, that affection that Tony gives so casually, so easily, although he’s done nothing to earn it. It’s so simple, and it feels so good, to have Tony by his side, all light touches and kisses. He’s warmer than he’s been all day, and it wasn’t a cold day.

He tries to think of something to say – something to explain the package, or to bring up the topic, or even to excuse himself and throw the damn thing out the window before Tony notices it – but it’s hard, with Tony right next to him, curling up by his side. His blue eyes stare at Steve with nothing but peace, body utterly relaxed, as if he’s been waiting to do this all day, and he looks so unbelievably beautiful every single one of Steve’s words die on his throat, too weak and simple for everything he’d like to say.

He ends up grabbing the package and practically throwing it at Tony’s lap.

“Here,” Steve says, in guise of explanation. Tony’s expression is puzzled. He takes his head off Steve’s shoulder, straightening his posture.

“Is that for me?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes. His stomach is clenching in anxiety, which is ridiculous – it’s just a fucking ugly scarf, Tony knows so many people, he’s got to have gotten worse gifts before. “It’s, uh. A bit late.”

Tony’s eyes widen as he looks at him. “Late?” Then it seems to dawn on him, slowly. “Is that… Is that for Valentine’s Day?”

Steve nods sharply, crossing his arms in front of his chest and staring forward.

There’s a moment of silence.

“Steve,” Tony’s voice sounds softer, almost like a whisper. “You didn’t have to…”

“Yeah, well,” Steve interrupts, unnecessarily harsh to his own ears. “’s nothing fancy, so don’t expect much.”

Tony doesn’t say anything, and the anxiety in his stomach is too much for Steve, so he finally turns to look.

The package is on Tony’s lap, and he runs his fingers over it, unwrapping it without ripping off the packaging. Tony’s hands are always precise, but now they seem slightly shaken, and he carefully folds the wrapping paper. He places it next to him on the couch as if it doesn’t belong in the garbage bin. Then he looks at the pile of blue fabric and Steve’s stomach clenches more.

It’s not even the right shade of blue, he thinks, bitterly. It’s too light. He couldn’t even get this right.

Tony holds the scarf on his hands. He unfolds it slowly, running his fingers over the fabric with an unreadable expression. When he gets to both ends, he flips them carefully, as if searching for something.

“You made this,” He says, finally, and Steve’s heart sinks when he realizes he must’ve been looking for the brand label. Tony spends so much money on him, so freely - how cheap it must look, that Steve couldn’t even actually buy him something.

“You,” Steve stutters. “You don’t have to wear it.” He manages, feeling defeated. Tony’s eyes are still focused on the scarf. In his hands, the stiches that previously seemed fine now look rougher than ever, and Steve can’t look at him, turning his gaze downwards, face burning. “It’s… Like I said, it’s nothing fancy.”

For a moment, Tony doesn’t answer. Steve feels a knot on his throat. He knew it wasn’t the best gift, but he’d thought Tony would at least pretend, give him one of his characteristic smiles that didn’t reach his eyes, maybe joke about his knitting abilities before forgetting the scarf on the bottom of a drawer.

Maybe it’s for the best, Steve thinks, as the silence lingers. It’s not right, for Tony to keep… humoring him, out of some sense of obligation, or – the thought sends a sharping pain through his chest – pity.

Tony is still in silence. Steve clenches his fists. Maybe Tony finds it amusing, to keep him waiting, like a cat playing with his food. Steve buries his fingers deeply onto his palms, fighting the impulse to just snatch the damn thing off Tony’s hands and leave.

He thought it’d match his eyes, he thinks, pathetically.  He thought…

“Steve,” Tony calls.

Steve swallows – get a grip, soldier – before raising his head to look at him.

Tony’s holding the scarf with both hands, fingers tightly clutching it against his chest. His eyes are impossibly bright, almost as if – as if they’re wet, and he looks at Steve with something so strong and so wonderful Steve forgets how to breathe.

“Darling,” Tony says, and his voice is fragile and choked up, but there’s a smile on his lips, small and light and full of wonder. One of his hands let's go of the scarf and grabs Steve’s wrist, raising his knuckles to his mouth, pressing a light – so soft, so gentle – kiss on Steve’s skin. “It’s beautiful.” He raises Steve’s hand and ducks his head a little, nuzzling onto Steve’s palm, the smile stretching over his lips, brighter than the sun. “Thank you so much.”

Steve’s head is spinning, lost on the joy and fondness all over Tony’s face. “Really?” he asks, a bit embarrassed of how insecure it sounds, but it’s impossible to think enough to control it, with Tony looking at him like that. “You like it?”

Tony’s smile shouldn’t be able to get bigger, but it’s what it does, so wonderful and happy in a way Steve had never seen him. “I love it.”

The weight of the words seem to make something explode inside Steve’s chest, and he knows his hand must shake against Tony’s cheek. Tony blinks at him for a few moments, eyes teary and beautiful, before he turns his face again to press another kiss on the inside of Steve’s wrist. His expression grows a little more serious, and Steve wonders if he’s not the only one, if Tony is also hearing love on his head in an endless echo.

“Well,” Tony says, taking a sharp breath, composing himself. “I should try it on.”

He wraps the scarf around his neck with slow, reverent movements. Steve watches the way his fingers touch the wool, so delicately. Long, clever fingers he knows so well.

“What do you think, gorgeous?” Tony bats his eyelashes at him playfully, grinning when Steve flushes. It’s been a year, and those eyelashes still get to him. He forces himself to shrug.

“Looks good,” he says, because he can’t quite put it into words, how it makes him feel, to see Tony wearing something he made. Even in the fancy knot, it’s undeniably homemade, the wool a sharp contrast to the expensive fabrics Tony usually wears. But Tony’s grin is so bright, and he keeps running his hands over the scarf’s ends, as if he can’t bring himself to stop touching it, and Steve’s heart rushes at the sight. “At least it’s gonna warm you up a little. All that flimsy stuff you wear, it’s a miracle you don’t catch a cold.”

“Such a mother hen,” Tony says, but his voice is warm and delighted, and he slides onto Steve’s lap, arms around his shoulders. He presses a kiss on Steve’s cheek, cupping his face. Steve lets his hands go to his waist, pulling him closer.

Tony sighs, melting into the touch, resting his head on the curve of Steve’s neck. He’s so warm, and Steve wants to say it feels so good, to hold him like this, to have him, but the words get caught up on his throat.

“So sneaky, too, Captain,” Tony’s voice is lighter, hands running over Steve’s back in delicious, relaxing circles. “Making me think we weren’t doing Valentine’s Day just so I wouldn’t shower you with presents. Although I suppose nothing is stopping me now.”

“You don’t have to give me anything,” Steve whispers, because Tony gives him so much, all the time. Even now, he’s already giving him more than he ever allowed himself to dream with.

“Oh, but I want to.” Tony raises his head, blue eyes staring deeply into Steve’s as he smiles lasciviously. “I want to give you so, so many things.” Steve flushes, and Tony presses a peck on his mouth – then another, and another, kisses growing deeper between whispers.

“So sweet, darling,” Tony mutters. The praise makes Steve’s heart flutter, Tony’s voice going through his body like a sip of hot chocolate. “So beautiful.” He pulls away from a deeper kiss, leaning his forehead against Steve’s temple, breath uneven against Steve’s skin. “Can’t get enough of you.”

The words echo between them, meaning too much in so little, and Steve tightens his grip on Tony’s waist, because he just can’t, can’t be like him, can’t make the words come out that easily. Tony leans into the hug, body relaxed over his.

They stay like this for a while. Steve focuses on Tony’s breath, on the way his chest moves up and down, on the smell of his cologne. It still feels unbelievable, that he can have this. That this is his.

“I had no idea you knit,” Tony says, after a while.

“We all learned in the war,” Steve replies. He feels Tony’s hands on his hair and can’t help but close his eyes. “Don’t do it much nowadays, though. ‘s why the stitches are a bit rough.”

To his surprise, Tony pulls back, raising his head to stare at him. “They’re not rough,” He says, face surprisingly serious before breaking into another slow, fond smile. “They’re perfect.”

Steve huffs out a chuckle. “They’re not perfect.”

“They are,” Tony leans over, pressing another kiss onto Steve’s mouth. “Absolutely,” Another. “Perfect.” Another. “Don’t you dare badmouth my present. My fella made it,” He says, drawling my fella out in a delighted voice, and Steve is giggling a little into the kiss now, feeling warm all over. “And therefore it’s perfect.”

Steve’s smiling ridiculously, now, but Tony’s lazy grin against his mouth is worth it. He leans back on the couch, feeling his soft kisses all over his face, closing his eyes. He feels relaxed like he hasn’t been in weeks, like he didn’t even know it was possible to feel.

“Do you want to go to bed, darling?” Tony asks into his ear, and Steve shakes his head slowly. On his lap, he feels Tony shifting a little, maneuvering their bodies so they lay down on the couch. “Okay. Be right back, sweetheart,” He whispers, kissing Steve’s forehead and lifting himself up.

After what feels like too much time, Steve feels Tony’s body cuddling against his again, a blanket covering both of them. He feels the silky fabric of Tony’s pajamas and smiles. Tony curls up on top of him, resting his head on his chest. Steve caresses his hair, feeling the short dark locks between his fingers, running his hand lower, to Tony’s neck.

Tony’s still wearing the scarf. Steve feels like floating.

“Did you, uh,” he starts, a bit hesitant. He’s half-asleep, now, and he feels like he’s dreaming, but it’s still incredibly hard, to muster the courage to ask. “Do you really… Love it?”

It’s a cowardly question, loaded with so much more meaning than it lets on at first, but he knows Tony gets it, and he – he wants to know, wants to hope, wants to…

Tony shifts a little over him. “So, so much, darling,” he whispers, voice warm and wonderful against Steve’s ear, and Steve’s heart turns elastic, bounces around on his chest, swells and hammers against his chest all at the same time. “You have no idea.”

Me too, Steve wants to say, but the words won’t come out, even now. It’s ok, though, because Tony’s voice is so honest, so sincere and loaded with feeling that it feels like he knows, how much it means.

Steve wraps his arms around Tony’s waist and presses a kiss on top of his forehead.

He’s gonna make him a pair of socks next.

[galwednesday]

I wish you would write wholesome Shrinkyclinks! Modern AU or WS!Bucky or anything :) especially anything where people take Bucky as super intimidating and seemingly Not For Steve but he's actually soft-spoken and embarrassingly in love with his bf. Also inspiration art, take out the parentheses: coldcigarettes(.)tumblr(.)com/post/155362763256/you-know-how-i-never-do-comics-well-ive-done-one

What I ended up with is a little askew from the prompt, but it is Shrinkyclinks with besotted WS!Bucky and people being surprised Steve is his boyfriend, just with the surprise going the other direction.

Sam did one more circuit in the air just to confirm that everything was under control. The wannabe-despot of the week was being loaded into the back of a SHIELD van in handcuffs, and the three bioengineered chimeras she’d released in Central Park were all safely contained. They were part hyena, part cat, and part…actually, Sam had no idea what the hell was making them glow faintly purple, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t normal cat or hyena behavior.

Fortunately, the chimeras weren’t nearly as aggressive as their creator had hoped. Once the Avengers had herded them into a sunny area by a fountain, the chimeras had settled down to bask on the warm stone, ignoring their creator’s increasingly frustrated commands to make with the rampaging already.

“Can we keep them?” Clint was shooting boomerang arrows from the top of the fountain. One of the chimeras was lying on its back, batting lazily at the arrows passing overhead. “I’ll feed them and walk them and not let them maul any civilians, can we keep them, sir, pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“No,” Coulson said. Sam could see him standing by the SHIELD van, arms folded as he watched Clint.

“I want this one.” Natasha sat on the ground by the fountain, posture relaxed, apparently ignoring the chimera five feet to her left. The chimera ignored her back, except to twitch an ear in her direction.

“No,” Coulson repeated, but only after a pause long enough signal defeat.

Natasha rolled slowly onto her side. The chimera tracked the movement, then put its head down on its paws and half-closed its eyes. “I’m naming her Boadicea.”

“So we’re done here? We’re done here,” Sam said, and turned his comm off before he could get sucked into the argument.

He touched down outside the SHIELD perimeter, where Tony was shedding his suit like a lobster shucking off its shell one segment at a time. Each piece folded up neatly into the briefcase at his feet. The Winter Soldier was standing next to him, his face blank but calm.

The Soldier had been an official part of the team for a few months now. Sam still didn’t have much of a read on him. The Soldier had been invaluable during the whole Hydra/SHIELD clusterfuck, and that was enough to earn him a lot of goodwill, but just about the only things Sam knew about the Soldier were his fighting style and his call sign.

“Hey, Cap,” Tony greeted him. “Where are the spy kids? Let’s do post-battle brunch, I’m starving.”

“They’re trying to convince Coulson to let the mad science experiments follow them home.”

“Good luck to them, but God help them if they try to keep them in the Tower, Pepper put her foot down about pets. You buy out one animal shelter because the cages are too small and all the animals look sad and suddenly everyone thinks you’re a hoarder. I don’t get what the big deal was, we weren’t using that floor of the Tower for anything important anyway. Tacos?” Tony suggested. “I’m thinking that place by Fordham. BattleBot, you in?”

“Can’t,” the Soldier said, typing something into his phone. “I have a date.”

Tony stopped talking for an entire three seconds. “You. Have a date.”

The Soldier looked up and blinked, clearly nonplussed to find Sam and Tony both staring at him. “Yes.”

“With who?”

“My boyfriend.”

“You have a boyfriend. You have a boyfriend?” Tony looked like he’d just walked into a lamppost, and then the lamppost had handed him a birthday present.

The Soldier’s brow furrowed. “Is that a problem?”

“Hey, this isn’t disapproval on my face, this is flabbergast. Flabbergastness? Flabbergosity?” Tony waved a dismissive hand. “I’m just a teeny bit surprised, no need to do that thing with your face where your eyebrows try to merge with your nose. Details! I need details!”

“Tony,” Sam tried.

Tony ignored him. “Is your boyfriend also a former brainwashed Soviet assassin?”

“No.” The Soldier’s stance eased. His phone chirped and he went back to typing.

“I guess that was a longshot. Is he a Marine?”

“No.”

“A fireman?”

“No.”

“Mixed martial-arts instructor?”

“He’s a painter.”

“Pics or it didn’t happen,” Tony demanded.

“Tony,” Sam sighed, but the Soldier was already holding out his phone. Tony barely resisted grabbing it. (People who grabbed things from the Soldier had a tendency to break fingers; granted, they were usually bad guys going for the Soldier’s weapons, but there was no telling exactly how the Soldier would react to a grab in a non-combat situation, and Sam for one would not want to be the first person to test it).

“That’s your boyfriend?” Tony said incredulously. “Him? No way. I don’t believe it.”

The Soldier’s eyebrows were advancing south again. “Why not?”

“Why not? Look at him, he’s adorable.”

“Yes,” the Soldier agreed, mollified.

Sam gave up on resisting his own curiosity and leaned over Tony’s shoulder. The Soldier obligingly held out his phone, which displayed a picture of a short, skinny guy with a neat blond crew cut. He was wearing a plaid flannel shirt and giving the camera a grin and a dorky peace sign.

“When are we meeting him?” Tony said. “Is it now? Can we meet him now? Does he like tacos?”

The Soldier gave them both an evaluating look. Sam tried to radiate friendly acceptance and not show that he was dying of curiosity almost as badly as Tony was.

“Yes,” the Soldier said eventually.

“Yes, he likes tacos, or yes, we can meet him now?”

“Yes.” The Soldier’s phone chirped again. He glanced at it and said, “He’s nearby. He’ll meet us there.”

The Soldier started walking. Tony and Sam fell in beside him, Tony throwing new questions at the Soldier with every step.

“Where did you meet?”

“JDate.”

“Seriously?”

“No.”

“Are you actually Jewish, though?”

The Soldier shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

“Same.” Tony held out a fist. The Soldier bumped it without looking up from his phone. “How long have you been dating?”

“Five months.”

“Five months! You need to tell me these things, this is information I needed to know, I thought we were friends.”

“Why would you think that,” the Soldier said, so flatly that Sam was almost entirely sure he was joking.

“I’m hurt, Ice-T, I’m wounded and distraught. If I ask you about your sex life are you going to punch me?”

“Yes.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed in calculation. “With which arm?”

“You guys hear that?” Sam interrupted. Angry shouts were echoing down the street ahead of them. He put a hand down to the shield at his side to check its position, his wingpack a reassuring weight on his back. A particularly loud yell was followed by a loud thud and the sound of glass breaking, like a waiter dropping a tray of glasses. “What is that?”

A beatific smile spread across the Soldier’s face. “That’s Steve.”

“What?” Sam said, but the Soldier had already broken into a run.

The commotion was coming from the taco place. Sam rounded the corner at a jog just in time to see a tiny guy pick himself up from the ground and hurtle forward into a much bigger man’s kneecaps, tackling him to the sidewalk. The contents of a knocked-over recycling bin were spilling into the street, sprays of glass marking bottles that had broken on impact.

The Soldier dove swiftly into the tangle of bodies and hauled the big guy up by his collar. “What did he do?” he asked the other man.

“Got handsy with a server,” the man replied. His nose was bleeding, but he didn’t seem to notice. He grinned at the Soldier, and suddenly Sam recognized him. This was Steve? “You want to sit on him until the cops come?”

The Soldier put the man in an armlock and didn’t move an inch, no matter how much the man struggled, until the NYPD showed up. Sam adopted his most Captain America voice and reassured the bystanders that everything was under control. The crowd petered out once the fighting was over, not even the spectacle of three Avengers helping with a citizen’s arrest enough to meet New Yorkers’ jaded standards for a free show.

Once the cops had loaded the still-protesting brawler into the back of their car, the Soldier gave Steve a thorough once-over, eyes lingering on the smear of blood under his nose. He pulled Steve into a careful hug. Sam tried not to stare at the novel sight of the Soldier initiating non-violent physical contact. “Ribs?”

“Totally fine.” Steve gave the Soldier an extra squeeze before letting go. “What about you, did you get hurt at all?”

“Strained knee. Your nose is bleeding.”

“Shit.” Steve swiped at the blood under his nose, made a face at his messy hand, and gave Sam and Tony a little wave instead of trying to shake hands. The Soldier dug into one of his belt pouches and handed Steve a wet wipe. “Hey, you must be Bucky’s coworkers. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Tony said. It was more of a question than a statement. “Who the hell is Bucky?”

“Me,” the Soldier said.

Tony and Sam exchanged a look. Steve just cleaned his hands and threw the wet wipe away.

“Is that something we should call you, too?” Sam asked.

The Soldier shrugged. “Sure.”

“And hey, you should’ve said your knee was hurt,” Sam told the Soldier as they filed into the taco place–told Bucky, and that was going to be a weird adjustment. “We could’ve given you a lift.”

“It’ll heal,” Bucky said, entirely unconcerned.

“You guys shouldn’t rely on air support so much,” Steve said, eyes wandering over the menu. “Your team has so many fliers that it’s weakening your ground game.”

“Excuse me?” Tony said.

“You almost lost the third chimera when it went under tree cover because Iron Man and Captain America were both in the air, and Hawkeye and the Soldier were in elevated sniper stands. If the Black Widow hadn’t been in that quadrant already, the chimera would’ve made it past the SHIELD perimeter. Hey, Bucky, have you ever had mole?”

“No,” Bucky said. He was standing sideways in line, his back to the wall–and to Steve, Sam noted, who was apparently allowed inside his blind spot. “Is it good?”

“Yeah, I think you’ll like it. Want to split mole and pulled pork?”

“Yes.” Bucky slipped out of the line and went to stake out a booth.

“I know we make it look easy,” Tony said, “but saving the world on a weekly basis is actually kind of difficult, and we’re pretty good at it by now.”

“Oh, sure. All of you are brilliantly effective at what you do, but that means you’re not working as a group as well as you could. You’re all playing to your individual strengths instead of cohering as a unit. Hi, could I get one order of mole tacos and one of pulled pork?” Steve asked the cashier, his voice abruptly polite.

Sam distracted Tony with questions about Pepper’s latest gallery opening until they got their food and sat down. Bucky had managed to claim a corner booth by the kitchen and was sitting on the bench that faced the front doors. Steve climbed over his lap to get into the corner seat. Bucky slid a little further in after Steve sat down, in a move that Sam interpreted as 30% doting boyfriend seeking closeness, 70% bodyguard blocking potential lines of fire.

“Okay, so you think our ground game is weak.” Tony steepled his fingers over his plate and narrowly avoided putting an elbow in the guacamole cup. “Elaborate.”

“You don’t need two fliers and two snipers on a five-person team. The Iron Man suit is a walking tank, Captain America’s shield is a perfect melee weapon, and Hawkeye and the Winter Soldier are both hand-to-hand combat experts. There’s no reason any one of you couldn’t fight in close quarters. You need to vary your approach before the people you’re fighting catch on and start staging battles in places where long-distance engagement is impossible.” Steve dragged the wadded-up tortilla end of his taco through a smear of sour cream on his plate and passed it to Bucky, who stuffed it into his mouth without comment. “Any time you can’t fight from the air, you’re at a real disadvantage. Bucky told me about what happened in the sewers last August.”

Sam’s face wrinkled at the memory. Clint had almost gotten eaten by an alligator-dinosaur-thing, and the smell had clung to Sam’s costume for weeks.

“Oh, you heard all about it?” Tony said. “Fine, bantamweight, lay it on me. What would you have done instead?”

Steve’s smile went sharp. “Well,” he said, and shoved everything out of the middle of the table. “For starters–”

Sam pulled his taco plate into his lap to keep it out of the way of the rapidly unfolding model of the sewers, which Steve assembled out of straws and sugar packets. Steve moved the salt and pepper shakers (Iron Man and the Winter Soldier) through the grid, while the straw wrapper (Black Widow) slipped ahead to provide recon and a plastic knife and spoon (Hawkeye and Captain America) guarded the exits. Tony challenged every call he made, and Steve pushed right back, questioning Tony’s assumptions and demonstrating his own reasoning. Sam ate his tacos and put in his own two cents whenever he could get a word in edgewise.

Sam’s attention was split between the conversation and surreptitiously watching Bucky. Bucky didn’t react to anything that was said, although Sam was sure he heard every word. He looked more relaxed than Sam had ever seen him, like the sound of Steve and Tony bickering was a zen meditation podcast.

“Huh,” Tony said, halfway through their fifth iteration. “You have a point.”

“Yep.” Steve sat back in his seat and stretched out his back, all that startlingly intense focus draining from his posture. It was amazing how quickly he went back to looking like a nerdy grad student. Sam might have been fooled, if he hadn’t just heard Steve argue Tony Stark to a standstill, and if Steve didn’t have dried blood ringing his nostrils.

“You said he was a painter,” Tony told Bucky accusingly.

“He is,” Bucky said. “He also has a PhD in history with a specialty in wartime tactics and strategy.”

“Seriously, how did you two meet?” Tony asked.

“I saved him from a mugger,” Steve said.

Tony stared at them. “I honestly can’t tell whether you guys are fucking with me right now.”

“I know,” Bucky said serenely.

“Hey, Steve, you want a job?” Sam asked, because unlike some people, he had his priorities straight.

“I already have a job.”

“Come on, don’t tell me you just pulled that analysis out of your ass, you’ve been thinking about this,” Tony said.

“How would you feel about working freelance?” Sam asked. “You could do strategy consulting, be our eye in the sky on missions–”

“Help keep your Bucky-boo-boo safe,” Tony interrupted.

Steve gave him a level look, then turned to Bucky. “I see what you mean.”

“I’m choosing to interpret that as a compliment,” Tony said.

“Yeah, okay, let’s talk terms. Churros first, though. You want churros?” Steve asked Bucky, who nodded.

“I could–” Bucky started, but Steve was already climbing over his legs to get out of the booth.

“I got it.” Steve leaned over the back of the booth and kissed the top of Bucky’s head. He didn’t have to lean down very far. “You take a load off, rest that knee.”

Tony watched Steve go up to the counter, then turned to Bucky. “Okay, nevermind,” he said. “I get it. He’s scrappy, huh?”

“Buddy, you got no idea,” Bucky said, and stole the half-eaten taco right off of Tony’s plate.

[truthofherdreams]

of baseball bats and psychic powers

Steve can’t exactly point out which events led him to where he is today – out of his cadet uniform after a long day of work, sitting on the hood of his car in front of the arcade – but if he had to make an educated guess, he would say it all started with a can of red spray paint and a pitiful fight in a back alley. Not that he particularly regrets anything that led him to this moment but. Well, he would like it better if the little dipshits could actually leave the arcade on time. But that’s asking too much of them.

The bitter part of him hopes one of them – his money is on Red, for obvious reasons – will get their driving license soon so he’s no longer the designated chauffeur. But let’s be real, he kinda like it. It’s a nice break from Hopper breathing down his neck all day long, and the kids are actually fun to be around most of the time. They make him laugh. He likes them, even if he’ll never say it out loud.

Even if they always push their luck with timing. Six o’clock is six o’clock, Jesus fucking Christ. He’s about to stand up and go and grab them by the collars of their nerdy shirts to shove them out of the arcade and inside the car, when a minivan parks next to him. The engine is loud enough to startle him, his heart beating fast – add that to the long list of shit that never goes away. He gives the vehicle a quick glance before he focuses back on the Zippo in his hand, flicking it open and close out of habit. He can’t even remember the last time he had a smoke. Hopper made the station a cigarette-free zone ever since El forced him to stop.

“Hey. Give me a spark.”

Steve doesn’t quite jump out of his skin this time, but his eyes are still a little wild when he turns to the person who appeared next to him. And then a lot wild. What she lacks in height – almost a full head shorter than he is – she sure as hell makes up in charisma. And fashion. Her brown skin looks so smooth and soft it clashes with the heavy eyeliner around her eyes and the buzz cut on the side of her skull and the leather she’s wearing from head to toes. Steve has never seen punks before, not outside of like, magazines and MTV, and. Wow. Just wow.

It takes him a few more seconds to remember she asked something. “Oh, yeah, sure. Yeah. Come closer.”

She doesn’t seem too impressed, and Steve suddenly wonders if that’s what being in one of the dipshits’ shoes feels like. He doesn’t particularly enjoy it. Still, she does move closer to his now lit Zippo, cigarette in her mouth, and maybe he stares a little at the way the flame turns her brown eye into molten gold.

(One thought: the fuck?)

Her cigarette doesn’t exactly smell of tobacco, but he’s too confused for a second to remember he’s the damn police. Also he’s out of uniform. Also, he has a feeling she would just laugh in his face if he told her anything about it. So, really, it has nothing to do with her eyes when he decides to drop it. Nothing at all.

Thankfully for him and his mental wellbeing, it is the moment the dipshits finally choose to get out of the arcade in all their loud, rowdy glory. Dustin spots him first, as he always does, grinning and waving at him. Will is next to him, Lucas and Red behind, Mike and El coming last with holding hands and heads tilt toward each other in secret whispers. How two kids can have a better relationship than adults twice their age, Steve will never understand. He does admire and envy it, though, just a little.

“Never learnt to read time?” he calls after all of them with an exasperate sigh.

Red replies with a middle finger while the boys start complaining back at him. Fucking typical. He’s about to say something about how their parents are after his ass if they’re late for dinner, when punk hottie next to him shifts a little on the spot. And then El raises her head, and stops in her tracks, and goes so pale Steve actually forgets anything he was about to say. He frowns, ready for – whatever. He’s just ready.

“Kali?” the girl asks, so soft he barely hears it over the boys’ chitchatting.

He looks to the punkette. Her mouth isn’t exactly into a smile, but the corners are twitching slightly when she says, “Hey, Jane.”

It takes Steve a second to realise she’s referring to El. Nobody calls her Jane, ever. Not even the teachers, who have taken to her nickname too, so it’s easy to forget she’s technically, officially Jane Hopper. She’s just El, for everyone, and nobody questions it.

Except pretty punk here, apparently.

By now, even Dustin has shut up, and they all look between the two girls in a mix of curiosity and confusion. There are several beats of a silence so tense you could cut it with a knife, before El lets go of Mike’s hand and runs toward the other girl. Punkette’s arms are already open, welcoming El into a thigh hug that leaves everyone else all the more confused. Red whispers something to Lucas, who shrugs. Will elbows Dustin, who elbows him back. Mike, poor kid, just frowns.

They stay in each other’s arm a little while longer before letting go, punkette’s hands cupping El’s face instead. Tear are rolling down El’s pink cheeks, and she sniffs a little.

“He’s dead,” the older girl tells her. “It’s over. He’s dead.”

El raises her eyebrows, incredulous, her lips wobbling. “For real?”

“Yeah. We’re free.”

There is more hugging involved – geez, isn’t Steve glad El and Red are not that touchy feely, this is unnerving. That is until Dustin, bless him, decides he’s had enough. “Excuse me. Who the fuck are you?”

Punkette sends him a glare above El’s shoulder, and Dustin takes a step back. Which. Okay, Steve would have too, to be honest. It’s quite an effective death glare. El looks back at her friends even if her hand is now holding the other girl’s, unwilling to let go.

Whatever she is about to say, whichever new bomb she’s about to drop on them, Steve has an inkling she’d rather not do it right there, in the middle of the street for everyone to see. They already have a bit (lot) of a reputation as it is, what with Will’s case and how El appeared from nowhere as the Chief’s daughter and whatsnot. Let’s just not aggravate everything, okay.

“Let’s go to the cabin first,” he tells her. And then, when nobody moves, “Car! Now!”

Thankfully for him, The Voice has an effect on most of the dipshits and they all go running, Will sitting on the front sit while the others pile up in the back. Not so thankfully, El remains just where she is, and her brand new friend puts up a fight.

“Jane can drive with me.”

A small laugh escapes him because, “Nope. Nu-uh. No way.”

She comes head to… well, head to collarbone really, with him, managing to both look up at him and look down on him at the same time. Which. Impressive. He’s about to keep going, because there is no way some punk stranger is kidnapping his psychic child in front of him, thank you very much, when…

When everything goes dark. He blinks around the darkness, frowns in confusing when the only thing he can see is her in front of him despite the lack of light. Everything is oppressive, suffocating, but. He’s Steve fucking Harrington. He swung a bat at a monster, lit a bunch of Demodogs on fire, and lived to tell the tale. He won’t be terrified by a girl with psychic abilities and too much eyeliner.

“Get out of my head!” he snaps at her. “El is coming with me.”

It’s like she switched the lights on again, arcade to his left, kids staring at him to his right, El and her psycho friend in front of him. She tilts her head to the side, long purple hair falling in front of his face, and Steve very much feels like he’s being judged right now.

“Fine,” she says finally. “I’ll be close behind.”

“Yeah, you do that.” He looks at El then, all the fight out of him, “In the car, kiddo.”

She doesn’t complain once. Bless her.

They make it to the end of the road before all the kids explode with questions, speaking over each other until it’s just a mess of sounds and yells and ridiculousness. Steve is so, so tired already.

“Okay, enough. HEY! ENOUGH!” They all comply, sitting back in their seats. Steve look at El in the rearview mirror. She’s sitting on Mike’s lap and looking back at him, nothing in her eyes to give away a clue of what the fuck is going on. Go figure. “Who’s she and how dangerous is she?”

El hesitates, just for a second. Steve makes a left, and watches the bloody minivan following him close. Geez, she wasn’t kidding.

“Her name’s Kali. She’s my sister.”

New explosion of noises. Yeah, Steve didn’t exactly expect that either. It gets so loud so quickly that El doesn’t reply anything at all, which, fair enough he guesses. He glances at her in the mirror once more, watches her let Mike take her into his arms as if to protect her from the world around her. He’s been awfully silent, which isn’t that big of a surprise. If anyone knows about what happened, it’s Mike. It’s always been Mike.

They all stumble out of the car when he parks as close to the cabin as possible. The minivan stops so close to his rear end he thinks the crazy punkette will bump into him at first. But she doesn’t, instead turning off the ignition and slamming the door close. She’s into El’s space in a matter of seconds, as if she needs to be close to her, and it sends all of Steve’s alarm bells ringing. He grabs the radio and switches it to the station’s frequency, asks Flo to get Hopper to talk to him.

“Better be good, Harrington,” comes the gruff voice a few seconds later.

Steve folds his arms on the wheel, and lets out a chuckle. “Oh believe me, it is.” He licks his lips, looks for the right words. “Know how El never told us what happened in Chicago?” he asks.

Hopper is silent for a moment too long, before he answers with a, “Yeah?”

“Well, now we know. And you’re not gonna like it.”

“Fucking hell.”

[bbybucky-fics]

Lust

request: Can you do a Bucky x Female reader where they are training together(he's teaching her how to do the widow move) and she is readily distracted by his arm, and he realizes that, so, he keeps on teasing her with it and then they finally fuck?

word count: 3400 (i’m out of control)

warnings: smut, giving bucky a blowjob, bucky fucking you with his metal fingers), bucky talking dirty to you in russian, pet names eg: babydoll and babygirl, dirty thoughts, spanking, calling bucky sarge and sergeant

a/n: changed the request a little bit, hope you like it. also this took me three hours to write so show me some love! all russian is from google translate so if wrong in any way, it’s not my fault!

Art is to be looked at, to be admired never to be touched and it is that fact that adds to the severity of the situation you always seemed to find yourself in. Just one look could make your pulse rise and make you clench your thighs together involuntarily. Bucky Barnes wasn’t just art you longed to touch but he was art that you craved between your legs whilst soft moans fell from your warm and swollen lips. Bucky Barnes was the reason you woke up panting, sweating and slick on your thighs and wetness on the bed sheets.

In summary, Bucky knows how to make you weak at your knees and you secretly love it above all else. Bucky loves the control, to know your writhing and panting is because of him and for him. You’re all that he desires but Bucky is a man who likes the thrill of the chase, he loves to tease you. He adores the small pout that breaks out on your face at his actions or when a moan slips from your lips (the only sound in the world he cares about).

That day is no like no other, Bucky daily teasing continued and you had to excuse yourself to your room to have some alone time. After the third time sneaking into your room and partaking in some much-needed release you headed down to the gym knowing full well Bucky and Steve would be there. You were hoping that you would finally get what you had desired ever since you had first laid eyes on the man of your dreams.

You were a woman on a mission and nothing would stand in your way.

The moment your eyes locked on his form, you couldn’t look away. You had always been right: Bucky was a piece of art but as you gazed on him that day you couldn’t help but think he was a masterpiece. His long hair was pulled back into a low man bun, his face glimmering and glistening (it may have been sweat but he looked radiant) and his shirt so tight it was clinging to him. You could see the outline of his toned muscles beneath his shirt and it took your breath away, he looked absolutely wrecked already just the way you hoped to look once you and Bucky both got what you wanted.

Bucky and Steve didn’t notice you too busy sparring with each other so you leaned against the wall your eyes never once leaving Bucky’s form, he was truly glorious. You found yourself biting your lip as you watched him or more accurately his metal arm, in all your fantasies his metal arm was front and centre bringing you the pleasure you deserve.

You could hear and see the whirling of the plates as Bucky lunged forward and attacked Steve, your heart rate quickened as your eyes focused solely on his metal arm.Images you had dreamt and thought of came back to life as Bucky flexed his metal arm, in that moment you could imagine riding his thick metal fingers as your tongues melded together in a scorching kiss that took all air from your lungs. In your head Bucky’s eyes were locked on yours as you bucked your hips against the cool touch of fingers inside of you, he looked at you his gaze predatory and growls emitting from his throat each time you moaned his name so softly he nearly blew his load.

Your thoughts weren’t for the light hearted but neither was what you planned on doing to Bucky and what he planned on doing to you.You were so lost in the wet dream leftovers swirling in your head to realise that Bucky and Steve had stopped sparring and were looking your way.

Steve had a look of concern that crossed his features but Bucky had the biggest grin plastered across his features.“Y/N, you okay?” Steve asked and you nodded but not before arching your eyebrow in confusion, why wouldn’t you be okay?

“Yeah, why?” You said once you took a few moments to keep your heart rate down and your breathing normal again.

Steve’s eyes went wide at your words whilst Bucky chuckled in the background behind his best friend, “It’s just that you were breathing pretty heavily a minute ago.” At Steve’s words, you felt heat rising to your cheeks but you wouldn’t let Bucky have the satisfaction of seeing you wrecked just yet. So, you just smiled politely at Steve ignoring Bucky’s presence.

“I just came from a run, still a little out of breath… I guess.  I was looking for Sam to take him up on that date offer actually.” You said smiling widely at Steve yet again not bothering to look Bucky’s way, you already knew what the look of jealousy on his face looked like -  you had seen it too many times to count.

“He’s in his bedroom.” Steve replied and the smile on your face grew even wider as you heard a small growl emit from Bucky’s throat, it was just as possessive and sexy as you had imagined and better.

“Thanks, Steve.” You said flashing him a sultry smile before leaving the room not once looking back at Bucky who was clenching his fist trying to contain both his anger and arousal. Bucky swore he heard a moan fall from your lips earlier on and he wanted nothing more than to make you moan like that again.

Bucky tried to control the feelings inside of him but when it came to you, self-control seemed impossible because every fibre of his body wanted to be with you. Every thought of every day was of you, whether it was the two of you fucking like wild animals or the two of you saying I love you every thought was of you.

So, Bucky stalked off his fists still clenched at his sides and his cock hardening in his shorts at the thought of what was about to happen. Bucky would be damned if he let you slip away on a date with Sam when he could be fucking you so hard you'd see stars.

He finds you in front of his door and not Sam’s, a teasing smirk dancing on your lips. “I was starting to think you’d wouldn’t go after me.” You said folding your arms across your chest pushing your breasts up and instantly Bucky’s eyes went down to your chest as he sucked in a breath.

“I couldn’t let you go on a date with Sam especially when I know how much you want me,” Bucky replied a smirk of his own taking its permanent place on his lips. He knew what game you were playing and he wanted to play it too.

You chuckled darkly as Bucky approached you opening the door to his room, “You’re the one opening the door to your bedroom, I think you want me too.” You said before stepping into his room as Bucky closed the door behind you.“

You’re all that I desire mалышка (babygirl).” Bucky said and the sound of him speaking in Russian made, even more, wetness pool at your legs, he sounded just as sinful as you had hoped.You swallowed thickly resisting the urge to tear off his clothes and mount him but then he had said his next words and you couldn’t fight it anymore.

“Did you like my little show in the gym? How about you put on a show for me and I’ll give you what you need. I’ll fuck you like you deserve, moya gryaznaya malen'kaya shlyukha (dirty little slut).”

That was all the confirmation you needed. “What do you want me to do?” You asked and Bucky chuckled as his hands ran down your sides till they reached the curve of your back, they dipped low to your ass and Bucky grabbed more than a handful of each cheek groaning in your ear.

“Call me sergeant and take your clothes off, slowly.” Bucky said and you nodded which earned a large smack to your ass with his flesh hand.

“Talk baby or you’ll get punished.” Bucky said and so you did as he said.

“Yes, Sergeant.”  You replied and Bucky smirked loving already how you submitted to him, how you put your trust in him.You did as you were told, as you were commanded and you slowly removed your top leaving you in the red lace underwear you had worn especially for this moment. You were facing Bucky your eyes never leaving his as you removed your trousers leaving you in the matching panties and stockings. At the sight of you wearing nothing but red (his colour) lace, Bucky groaned his hand coming down to his shorts as he palmed himself through the thin material.

“Take it all off, babydoll. All of it.” Bucky demanded and you obeyed. You slowly undid the clasps of your bra letting it fall, the cold air hit your nipples causing the peaks to harden. Bucky had never seen such a glorious sight. Your panties were next and you took extra time with them, you turned to face the other way bending over to make sure Bucky got a good view before pulling your panties off.

When you were done, you turned to face him again an innocent look on your face as you batted your eyelashes.Bucky was furiously pumping his cock that he had freed from the confines of his short and only one question came to mind. “Can I suck your cock, please Sergeant?” You asked the deep groan that came from your Bucky was fucking delicious. You fell to your knees before he had even answered, you were crawling forward till you were situated between his legs your tongue running over your lips.

Bucky’s metal arm came up to your face resting on your cheek, you shivered at the frigid touch before leaning into it. His metal thumb ran over your lips as you parted them making Bucky groan, god he wanted to fuck you into an oblivion but first he wanted to see your mouth on his cock.

“Go ahead babygirl.” Bucky said and it took you nearly two seconds before you were leaning forward and running your tongue along his tip lapping up his precum. The moment your tongue touched his cock, Bucky was a goner a loud lewd moan fell from his lips as you did so. You smiled up at him as you heard the sound before your attention rested solely on his cock, your wet warm lips attached to the tip and Bucky found himself clenching at the sheets of his bed.

“Девочка Иисуса Христа, ты убьешь меня. (Jesus Christ babygirl you’re going to kill me).” Bucky spewed in Russian and the sound of it was so sinful you couldn’t help but bob your head and suck his cock with a thirst so strong it made Bucky groan and moan as he occasionally muttered dirty words in Russian.

You took it all, everything he gave you as his metal arm reached into your hair pulling you further onto his cock and allowing euphoria to slowly creep up on the man before you who was close to coming down your throat.You didn’t stop, you were ruthless and sucked Bucky so hard he knew it was only a matter of time before your lips were covered in his come (his wet dreams were close to becoming a reality).

“Fuck, you’re a dirty little slut, yeah? Only want to suck my cock, huh?” Bucky asked and the only noise he heard in response was a moan around his cock before you went back to giving him the best blow job of his life.

Bucky’s breathing became harsh as you put everything you had into sucking his cock, you lapped and licked at the precum steadily oozing out of his cock into the lead up of his high. You pumped his cock as you gave the head attention and slowly but all too quickly you felt Bucky getting closer and closer to the edge. Bucky’s much-needed push was when you started to lap at his balls and suddenly he was seeing white and before he knew it your mouth was back on his cock as his come cascaded into your mouth and onto your lips. The sounds he made as he did so were melodic, you needed to hear them again.

“Fuck!” Bucky exclaimed as he pulled his metal arm from your hair and took a few moments to collect himself.

“Get on the bed babygirl, gonna show you just what I can do with my metal arm.” Bucky commanded and you couldn’t help the moan that fell from your lips at his words.

“Yes, Sarge.” You said before hauling yourself on his bed lying flat on the mattress patiently waiting for him to give you the pleasure you had only dreamed of.

Bucky all but crawled up you a predatory look on his face as both his hands pulled your legs apart. Although he hadn’t touched you anywhere near where you wanted him to you couldn’t help but arch your back at the feeling of him touching you for the first time. Bucky chuckled darkly at your actions, you looked up at him realising he was now as naked as you were and the excitement that bubbled in you couldn’t be resisted.

“On your knees.” Bucky commanded and for the umpteenth time that day you obeyed.You rose to your knees looking at Bucky curiously, what exactly did he have in mind.

All confusion and wonder were expelled however when he held two of his metal fingers to your face and said, “Get ‘em wet babygirl.” You smirked devilishly at the piece of art in front of you before guiding his two thick metal fingers in between your parted lips and sucking on them in the way you had sucked on his cock only seconds ago.

You kept eye contact with Bucky the whole time as you did exactly what he told you two. After nearly a minute of watching you suck his fingers Bucky felt him hardening again and so he removed his fingers from your mouth earning a whimper from you that was like music to his ears.“Lay down babygirl, gonna open you up and then I’m gonna give you what you want.” Bucky said and at his words, a silky moan tumbled from your lips.You did as you were told lying down in your previous position and in an instant, Bucky was in between your legs giving you one of the many things you craved his fingers in your puckered hole. He dipped one finger in slowly groaning at your wetness making your eyes roll back into your head before you felt another join his lone finger.

“So wet babygirl, you got yourself ready for me, da?” He said and you nodded and because you had discovered Bucky liked vocal confirmation his metal arm came down your pussy.

“Words babygirl, if I have to remind you again then we’re done here.” Bucky threatened and the thought of not being able to get what you wanted made you pout so, you were a good little girl and did as Bucky said.

“Yes, Sir I got myself ready for you. I knew you’d be big so I had to prepare myself.” You answered honestly and at your reply, Bucky groaned so loud it was the only sound you could hear.

The groan was the first warning of the storm to come because before you knew it he was plunging his fingers in and out of you at a speed only a super soldier like himself could keep up with. Your back arched like a cat against Bucky’s bed as he fucked you with his fingers. Then Bucky added a third finger and you had never been so full in your life, you found yourself bucking your hips up to match the sinful thrust of his fingers.

“God, Fuck Sergeant!” You moaned as Bucky continued his gruelling pace, you knew that soon you’d be a thriving panting mess in front of him.It didn’t take long not with the way Bucky was looking up at you his face full of hunger as your pussy swallowed his three fingers over and over. He, like you were at the gym was on a mission and you knew Bucky wouldn’t stop till you were coming all over his metal fingers. You imagined him sucking them dry and the thought paired with Bucky’s fingers hitting your g-spot were too much. Your legs began to quake and you practically thrashed around Bucky’s bed as you felt your climax nearing.

Before you could have the chance to revel in the high, Bucky pulled his fingers out making you whimper softly. You wanted it so bad, it hurt but then Bucky was pushing his cock into your entrance and suddenly nothing else mattered. The high you had been chasing previously had returned as Bucky didn’t wait to thrust into you for the first time all whilst he sucked clean his three fingers covered in the delicious taste of your slick. You could hear Bucky groan into his mouth at your taste before he said,

“You taste so fucking good babygirl.”And then he said, “Ты такая плотная детская кукла, дай мне все (God you’re so tight babydoll, give me everything).” Bucky said in Russian and even though you had no idea what he was saying, you still knew it was all of your dirtiest dreams come true.You screamed, your high was closer than ever and every time Bucky drove his cock fast and hard into you as he hit the spot that made you see stars.

He pinned your wrists down each one beside your head as he fucked you so hard his balls slapped against your skin. Bucky’s eyes were trained on your chest, he couldn’t help but dart his tongue out at the sight of your hardened nipples and before he could think he attached his warm lips to one. It was too much for any girl to handle, your orgasm was approaching faster than ever and as Bucky let his metal arm unclasp your wrist and slither between your bodies to your clit. You knew your time was up.

It was beautiful, the sight of you coming was better than anything Bucky had ever seen. Your moans were simply perfect and you looked positively wrecked and that fact made Bucky plough into even harder. He wanted it too. He wanted to be as fucking wrecked as you were so kept driving his cock as fast as he could into you going so deep that every time he thrusted into you, your tits bounced so wonderfully.

Bucky removed his lips from your nipples and moved them your own lips capturing you in a kiss that was as lustful and sinful as the act you were divulging in. Your hands now not pinned now came to his back where they scratched down his back in a mix of pain and pleasure that made Bucky growl and thrust harder into you.  With your orgasm and how sensitive you were, you didn’t know if you could take anymore so your nails pressed down into Bucky’s back, he cried out in pleasure the sound swallowed by your lips on his.

It was everything he could have wanted and more and the just the feel of your nails against his back and your whimpering against his lips made reaching his orgasm easier than imagined.He came hard and fast groaning as he did, he pulled back his lips press sloppy kisses against the creases of your lips as you moaned softly.

The two of you laid motionless until Bucky spoke up, “The next time we do this it’s going to be after a date.”

You chuckled before replying, “Are you asking me on a date, Sarge?”

Bucky shook his head smirking up at you and said, “No, that was an order babygirl.”