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rae-is-typing · 5 years

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Universal Language

Description: You, music and the Avengers

Characters: You, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Thor, Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Wanda Maximoff, Peter Parker and Pepper Potts because I love her

Warnings: Mentions of PTSD, mentions of little Stevie getting beat up, and mild language. If there is something I missed, please let me know.

Disclaimer: Some are longer than others, some have dialogue, and I couldn’t think of anything for Rhodey (I’m so sorry!) Tell me what you think, I was trying something new for this one. If you want something more in-depth, lemme know :)

Word count: ~ 2.5k

Tony took you in when you were a toddler. He knew jack shit about raising a child, and enlisted the help of a nanny,. That is until Pepper made him realize how much he was missing of his daughter’s life. He didn’t even know you started crawling. However, he knew the only thing that got you to stop crying was music. He also knew that banging on things rhythmically was your favorite pastime. From then on, he knew that he was going to have a little musician on his hands.

Tony

In Tony’s opinion, the only good things your mother gave you were life and your knack for the arts, especially music. Rhodey and Pepper saw it, too. You took to music the way Tony took to mechanics. He loved your adorable pout when you were figuring the notes out, and the way your face brightened the room when you finally played it right.

The first thing he got you was a toy xylophone when you were three. He would watch you try and replicate the music he was playing over his speakers. You’d look up at him with tearful eyes when you couldn’t get it. He would gently take the mallet from your hands and copy the music, then he’d give it back to you so could copy him. Your giggles of glee when he played were something he’d never forget. He used his knowledge of the piano to help you learn music.

You were six when he got back from Afghanistan. Even at that young age, you knew things would be different. Your father had been gone for months. His arm as in a sling and he looked sick. He pushed you away for a few weeks after that, only staying in the lab, not even letting you stay in the child-proof area he had set up all those years ago. You didn’t understand why he was different, you only understand that he was different.

One night, you were playing in the main room. Pepper was done for the day, and Obadiah was far away and wouldn’t be back for a really long time; you were all alone with only JARVIS looking after you. You were trying, and failing, to play Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. You kept hitting the wrong keys and messing up the rhythms. Frustrated, you huffed and crossed your arms.

Unbeknownst to you, your dad was behind you. He smiled softly, walked closer to you, picked you up, set you on his lap and played the phrase you were trying to. You demanded he play the rest. Soon enough, he had a sleeping kid in his lap.

You were eight when you had your first performance with an audience. It was a piano recital in a small auditorium at your school. He sat in the front, unashamedly cheering for you and loving you. He was there whenever you had solos, and he cried for a lot of them, not that he would ever admit that to anyone but you or Pepper. He records all of your performance, e even has videos of your progress from a four-year-old you playing Mary Had a Little Lamb to sixteen-year-old you busting out Beethoven like its nothing.

Now, he asks FRIDAY to play back recordings of you singing or playing. It helps him calm down, knowing he’ll always have a piece of what matters most to him with him at all times.

Steve

You met Steve when you were ten years old. It was the aftermath of the Battle of New York. Steve and the rest of the team, excluding Thor, had moved into the tower. While you were thrilled to see Natalie-Natasha again, you were a shy kid, opting to stay with Pepper or your dad and away from the others. The larger-than-life Captain America intimidated the shit out of you.

It wasn’t until you saw him sketching in the common are you began to consider him an actual human and not a walking action figure. You had been trying your hand at drawing for months, and while you had made considerable progress, your work always looked off for some reason. After watching him draw for weeks, you managed to snatch his sketchbook, flip through it when left to go get something from another room. He cleared his throat, startling you into dropping the book. You picked it up, heat in your cheeks, and sheepishly handed it back to him with a small, almost scared, “Sorry,”

He only smiled at you, ten-year-olds weren’t all that subtle when it came to spying. He sat you down on the couch, and began showing you all of the drawings he felt were appropriate. Some of them were memories of war-ravaged battle fields, and he didn’t want to give you nightmares. There were lots of old-timey Brooklyn, a man named Bucky, a vaguely familiar, but very beautiful woman named Peggy and Steve’s Ma, Sarah.

You pouted and explained that whenever you tried to draw, it never came out right. He nodded, then smiled. “I’ll tell you what, you help me learn Piano, I’ll help you learn to draw.”

Clint

Clint is a vent-dweller and, much like everyone else on the team, he struggles with PTSD. He uses the vents as a safe space, a way to escape the nightmares and the heartache from the past. However, he doesn’t like to feel alone. He often says above the lab to hear Tony’s loud music, snarky banter with his AI’s, and his empty threats to the ‘bots. Other times he’ll stay above the gym if he knows that Steve or Natasha are doing late night workouts. The soft grunts and the sounds of the equipment are sufficient to keep the loneliness at bay. On very rare occasions, he stays above the kitchen to hear Vision mutter to himself while attempting, and generally failing at cooking food.

Soon enough, he found the music room. Well, art floor.

You were up late, practicing a solo that you couldn’t quite get, but weren’t ready to give up on. He paused, getting clear tone with his hearing aids in. He soon found himself up above the floor whenever you were playing late. The music was a nice distraction, and he could feel himself become happy with your progress, small feelings of pride swelling in his chest at your success. One night, he even left a note on the piano asking you to learn and play Clair de Lune for him. The next week, you told him to be there at midnight, and sure enough, the beautiful piano tune floated up to the vents.

Natasha

You’ve known Natasha since she was Natalie. You mostly kept your distance until one day. You were struggling to play something. You fumbled with your instrument, while penciling something onto the sheet music. She watched you for a couple minutes before asking if you needed help. You huffed out a petulant “No,” before proceeding to struggle for another five minutes. Defeated, you asked for help. She managed to help you figure out the fingerings and the accidentals.

You took up dancing a little later on, and she began helping you after your regular class. With her guidance, you quickly became one of the best dancers in your classes, always rising to the challenge with the work-ethic she helped instill in you.

Even later on, you became her pupil once more when learning to fight. She knocked you on your ass more times than you can count, and still does all the time. But, with her help, you’ve learned how to kick some serious ass.

Thor

It’s no secret that Thor is a big guy. He doesn’t know his own strength,and often breaks things when he wasn’t careful. Out of all the original Avengers, he intimidated you the most.

One day, you saw him holding your violin, examining it like a specimen under a microscope. You panicked, dropped everything and ran to him.

You demanded he stop, resorting to pulling the bow from his hands. He was confused at the tiny child pulling the interesting midgardian play thing away from him.

“Let it go, Thor! You’ll break it!”

Thor frowned, still holding the violin.

“My apologies, young Stark. I do not know what it is, I was merely trying to find its function.” He says, handing it back to.

You relaxed a little, the initial panic wearing off. “It’s a violin, it makes music.”

“How?”

You got into position, put the bow to the strings and drug across the strings. A note rung put, and everything seemed to click in Thor’s mind.

The next time Thor came to visit, he brought Asgardian instruments for you to learn, try and play. You may or may not have cried out of joy.

Bruce

Bruce is a ball of stress, and that is evident to anyone that’s spent any amount of time with him. He uses music as an outlet, letting the sounds wash over him and makes some amount of stress go away. But there are days that things get too overwhelming, there are days where the headphones and opera don’t work, there are days where he needs something more.

Bruce knows that you play, he knows about your talent, and he’s even gone with Tony to watch you perform. There was a day when he shyly asked if he could watch you practice. You were all for it. You practiced in front of him, and he calmed don a lot more.

It became a routine of sorts, you playing, him offering some constructive criticism when he could and you even taught him a few songs on the piano.

Sam

You took the initiative of catching Steve up with modern music. One day, he sheepishly handed you The List, Working your way down, you finally landed on Marvin Gaye. Steve called his friend Sam in so you both could gush about the icon.

You and Sam ended up screeching singing Ain’t No Mountain High Enough for him, and managed not to scare him off. You called it a successful day.

After that, you had put together a playlist for him, and had your dad create a portable sound system for his wings so he could fly listening to his fave.

Bucky

Bucky came to the tower after his time in Wakanda. Tony was wary, anyone in his situation would be. He wanted you to stay away from the ex-assassin indefinitely, and you didn’t blame him. You knew what Bucky did. However, you tried not to blame Bucky either. Steve explained the situation as best he could to you, and you understood that Bucky had been taken advantage of, used and manipulated.

Now that he was in the tower, Bucky wandered around the tower when he couldn’t sleep which happened to be most nights. One night, he heard something familiar, something that tugged at his chest in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Somewhere over the rainbow,”

He remembers a warm breezy day, the alley he pulled Stevie out the night before, reaming him for fighting more than usual because of the big day they had coming up. He cleaned him up. He remembers holding a washcloth to a small blond Steve as he tried not to hurt him too bad while he berated him for fighting again that week.

“There’s a land that I heard of once in a lullaby,”

He remembers walking with Stevie to the theater, paying too much for the tickets and sitting beside his best friend watching color appear on a screen for the first time. Bucky smiles, letting the feeling of nostalgia and the longing for a simpler time linger for a moment longer before heading to another area of the labyrinth to explore.

Wanda

Wanda moved in when you were 13. You were so happy that you had another female in the tower to bond with. When she expressed interest in music, you jumped at the chance to teach her something, anything really. You tried a few things. You started with woodwinds, she couldn’t figure out the embouchure. You moved onto brass, she didn’t like the sounds. You settled on stringed instruments. Her choice was the acoustic guitar, and she was good. She picked it up almost immediately, easily learning the fingerings and chords. Her favorite thing were duets with you, and you often played together whenever you two had time.

Peter

You saw how good Peter was for your dad. He finally had a mentee to teach. Tony really tried to get you into science, he really did. It didn’t work the way he thought it would, and damaged your relationship for awhile until he back off, letting you do you.

You were jealous, admittedly. You weren’t used to sharing your father’s attention with another person your age.

Then you got to know him. You found out through your dad that he was in marching band, and you needed to know more. You began spending a little time together, swapping band stories and laughing at memes. Soon enough, Peter hung out with you before going to working with Tony in the lab for a few hours. It was fun.

You learned the Mii Theme, the Kahoot theme and even put together a duet of meme music to annoy your dad with together.

Pepper

Pepper is your mother. No, she didn’t birth you, and you didn’t call her mom, but she has been there for you through everything. Through your father’s time in Afghanistan, the battle with Obadiah, your first day of middle school, whenever your dad was busy and you were upset, your first period. It didn’t matter, she was with you. She listened to you when you worked hard on a piece. Hell, she even helped you pick out your first professional grade instrument, despite knowing very little about them.

She encouraged you when were feeling less than, she helped pick you up when you were down, she taught how to act around the business assholes in Galas and events.

Pepper loved you and you loved her.

When the proposal happened, Pepper asked you to sing at the wedding. You took this role very seriously, singing ‘A Thousand years’ by Christina Perri and ‘Future Looks Good’ by OneRepublic.

When Morgan was born, you sang to her whenever you could. When she was old enough, you’d sit her on your lap and let her smash the piano keys like Tony did with you.

Pepper couldn’t think of a better older sister for her baby; she couldn’t think of any better daughters.

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demoncryptspanties · 6 years

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Princess

Part 1, part 2 , part 3, part 4 final part Masterlist

summary: Bucky and the reader hate each other for the most part. Both throwing cheap blows in order to get a reaction out of the other but why and when did this happen and can they ever fix t?

Bucky Barnes x reader (kind of), Wade Wilson x platonic!reader

warnings: swearing, the reader is a bitch at the moment but Bucky is as well, kind of I don't know.

Authors note at the end.

“No, the princess wants to say something I say we let her,” Bucky said with a lazy smirk. His eyes were dark, challenging, to most it seemed as if he was revelling at the moment.

She turned to him quickly, moving her whole chair so that she could face him head-on. Cocking her head to the left, she put her glass down. “I’m sure we've had this conversation before but since you did recently turn 100 I’ll give you an allowance. Do not call me that again. Do you understand James?” She didn't wait for his answer and instead started to engage in a seemingly animated conversation with Tony about the mission.

Bucky turned to Steve and clenched his jaw. It took a minute, but he opened his mouth again, raising his voice so that the whole room could hear him. “I’m sorry but remind me why not to again, you are director Fury’s daughter, a privileged bitch with no real talent until your daddy sold you off to become a little science experiment.”

The air shifted quickly, everyone else in the room opted to not say anything as they learnt that this was the best move in this situation. “That is not what happened,” she replied, anger in her words but her eyes had a hint of sadness.

“Then what did princess, we all want to know. You come back 3 years later like the fucking avatar with no explanation.”

“This is coming from the guy everyone thought was dead but was actually murdering people as if it were the next level in a video game.”

Someone sucked in their breath hard but the two didn't notice. They sat there for a minute, jaws clenched, eyes dark and challenging. There was no movement from anyone until she got up. The suddenness of it made everyone in the room jump. She picked up her drink and walked out of the room, her steps both graceful and heavy. It was as if with a slight increase in weight her heel would pierce the floor with each step.

Once she had left the room everyone's eyes shifted towards Bucky to try and gauge his reaction, but he was completely blank. He stood up and left, presumably to go to his room with Steve trailing after him. There were slight mumbles between the remaining members before they all did the same, Wanda walking in the direction of Y/N’s room while Sam and Nat walked towards Bucky’s.

She had her head in her hands when Wanda walked in, she was gasping having tried to keep herself from breaking down. She refused to give him the satisfaction. Wanda moved to sit on the floor in front of her and pulled Y/N into her arms where she broke down. It was a full 5minutes of crying before she spoke up.

“Wanda, I don’t know what to do.” She whispered, sniffling slightly.

“About what?” Wanda answered moving back to look at her.

“About Bucky.”

“You can’t let him get to you.”

“I don’t hate him Wanda, but he gets me so angry sometimes. There’s no reason to hate him we weren’t like this before.” She said moving from the floor onto her bed.

She was right in that it wasn’t like this before. They weren’t friends, still very cautious with each other but civil. It was the anniversary of the day she had gone missing but only her father knew that. She was snappy with him getting angry quickly. He rationalised it, saying it was just one day until she started to blame everything on him. That whole day if they were in the same room and there was a minor inconvenience or something he didn’t know she had something snarky to say about it. Everyone assumed that he took this to heart because he started to retaliate towards the evening. It ended with a huge argument, both being as nasty as the other, it got out of hand and perhaps due to pride neither of them got over it.

She felt a tug in her head as if someone was calling out to her and focussed back onto Wanda.

“I’m sorry Y/N, you just zoned out for a minute,” Wanda said a small smile on her face.

“It’s fine I’m going out anyways.” She said wiping her eyes and moving towards the dresser.

“where to, do you want me to come?”

“No, but thank you, Wanda. I was supposed to meet Wade around now.”

Wanda said a quick goodbye and left her to her own devices, thinking this was the best thing to do since she was clearly not going to say any more on the matter. Y/N traded in her jumpsuit for a pair of jeans and a jumper that she had stolen from Steve’s washing the day before. She opened the balcony and jumped out of the window, floating downwards while admiring the view of the hills in the distance. Her feet touched the ground gently and she entered the garage grabbing the keys to her motorcycle and driving off.

It wasn’t long before she reached the bar, pulling her hood over her head she entered spotting Vanessa waiting a table. The two exchanged quick hellos’ before she pointed out Wade, sitting in a booth by himself.

“You going to say hi to your second favourite girl or what.” She muttered, sliding herself into the booth.

“Third favourite, I’m pretty sure its Vanessa, Blake Lively and then you.” He said a cheeky smile on his face. She felt relaxed immediately after hearing him speak and leaned back into the booth, taking her hood off. “Well shit, it looks like you got eye-fucked by hot sauce. Literally, eye fucked.”

“Well, thanks, Wade. Don’t you know how to make a girl feel special.” She chuckled lightly.

“But seriously was it that Bucky that you won’t let me meet.” The lazy smile turned into a small frown.

“Yes.” They both shifted uncomfortably her hands moving onto the table in front of her.

“You need to stop taking your anger out on him Y/N. Ajax is dead, that part of your life is over.”

“Well maybe but I have no outlet Wade, they barely let me go out on missions because of my dad even though I’m fully fucking capable. It feels good to let something out and of course, it is him, it’s not as if this is totally one-sided he digs and pulls and punches where he can, I guess I’m his outlet as well. Anyways, what the fuck can I do, I sit at home all day and do jack shit and he’s just there. So, fucking capable and loved. You know they use him for almost every mission. They coddle him like a fragile child and praise him for everything he does and yeah, I mind my business for the most part and then he opens his damn mouth, says something snarky and I want to murder him.” She took a deep breath and looked down at her hands.

“Well that sounds like you’re jealous but that’s no reason to dig at him like you would a grave. Isn’t there a saying, be the bigger person” Wade said being her usual voice of reason.

“No shit. But it’s not as if he doesn’t do it to me. He starts it, I just escalate things really. Be the bigger person my ass. God, I’m a shit person Wade. Fuck!” he put her head on the table groaning softly.

“I think what you need to do is apologise, but your prideful and that’s a probable no. You can start with finding a vice so that you don’t feel the need to pull at him. Also therapy or addressing your issues, having a civilised conversation with him but those are the boring options.”

She put her head up slightly so she could see him through her lashes. “A vice?”

“Yes, a vice. I mean mine is, well let’s not get into mine. I would suggest drinking but you don’t drink and that’s not a good idea, drugs to that’s a no. Gambling but you’re a shit gambler.”

“I’m not a”

“You’re a shit gambler don’t even. Find a hobby or something. Or sex but I mean be careful and that. Your good at art right how about learning to tattoo people or something.” He said before turning to wave down Vanessa and ask for another beer.

Y/N sat up at the mention of art and asked for water. “That’s actually a good idea.”

“What the sex.” He said between sips

“No, what the fuck the art.”

“Oh, that yeah, I’ve got a good idea to cheer you up and this is boring and now I’ve totally solved your problem so let’s go.” He downed his beer and got up pulling her along with him and waving at Vanessa. The pair walked through the streets, Wade leading the way and Y/N following only a step behind. They discussed Vanessa mostly and possible kid one in the making before stopping outside an arcade. He dragged her through the doors, the first things she noticed were the neon machines, loud music and the distinct smell of day old pizza.

“where is it.”

“Where is what Wade?” he handed you a hammer once he found what he was looking for.

“Is that a whack a mole machine. I didn’t even know they made these anymore.”

Wade put in the money and the two stood there waiting on their respective sides. Both had brilliant instincts, so the score was close with Wade winning in the end by pure chance. After a couple more games they stopped on a tie. They parted ways once they had gone back to the bar and Y/N reached the compound at about 2am.

She made herself a cup of tea in the communal kitchen and walked up to the greenhouse that she had begged Tony to install on the top floor. The lights were already on when she entered signalling that someone was already here, but she walked in any way.

A/N I’m so sorry but my writing got sloppy at the end and I really have no clue how to fix it urgh. I will probably change POV in the next part because it got really difficult towards the end and I kept trying to avoid saying she did this and that but I’m pretty sure I did anyway. Also, there’s likely to be 2 more parts after this but we’ll see how it goes.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #wade wilson imagine #wade wilson #avengers imagine #avengers #deadpool

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starksinner · 7 years

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Be My Hero

Summary: Being Deadpool’s daughter isn’t easy, especially when you have the Avengers and X-Men watching your every move.

Pairings: Peter Parker x Reader, Father!Wade Wilson x Daughter!Reader

Other Characters: Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark, Gambit, The Avengers, The X-Men

Warnings: Mentions of Suicide, Violence, Blood, Angst, Chessy Romance

Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters

Real Name: (Y/N) Nessa Wilson

Current Alias: Mortál

Age: 17

Citizenship: Canadian

Relatives: Wade Wilson (Father) Vanessa Carlysle (Mother)

Affiliations: X-Men, Avengers, S.H.E.I.L.D, Remy LeBeau, Rouge, Sebastain LeBeau, Logan Howlett, Laura Kinney, Peter Parker

Education: High Park Middle School, Richardson Square Secondary School

Identify: Known to Authorities

Abilities and Powers: Regenerative Healing Factor, Superhuman Reflexes and Agility, Hand-to-hand Combat Skills, Expert Knife Thrower

“When’s this shit gonna stop, (Y/N)?”

Wade gripped the handle of his apartment door, pulling it shut with a loud thud.

“The shit’s gonna stop when you stop pushing, Dad. That’s how it works . . . or you know, just clench up like you usually do . . .”

(Y/N) chewed on the piece of gum stuck in her mouth dramatically, making the chewing sound with her teeth as loud and dramatic as possible.

Plopping down on the blood-stained couch in her living room, she grabbed her phone from the back pocket of her jeans and began scrolling through the notifications that flooded her screen.

“Shit, really?” Wade gasped, acknowledging her little head tilt and eyebrow raise.

“Wow, okay, holy fuck! Look! I’m a teenage girl!” He mocked, whipping his head back, along with his imaginary hair.

“Ugh, I know you’re a little girl trapped inside a man’s body, Dad, I get it. There’s no reason to be so damn dramatic all the time — you know — there’s a reason why I just tell people you’re my mother.”

Wade hummed to himself softly, gripping the back of his mask and letting the red and black material fall to the floor.

Singing How Far I’ll Go from Moana, Wade twirled around the living room like a princess, sticking out his arms and pointing out his fingertips.

He hopped his way over to his daughter, imitating the look of boredom plastered on her face.

“Look at me,” he teased, gracefully kneeling in front of her with an innocent, puppy dog look.

“I’m (Y/N) —” He swiftly grabbed her cell phone from her fingers, tossing it across the room without looking back.

As it smashed against the ground loudly, Wade unblinkingly started at her as the sound of shattering glass filled the framed living space.

“DAD!”

“I’m all about long, sullen silences,” he rolled his eyes, mimicking her usual attitude, “followed by mean comments, followed by more awkward silences.”

(Y/N) grunted, letting her head drop back against the dirty couch as Wade placed his hands on her knees, keeping her from escaping his dramatic limbo. “Can I go? Are you gonna let me go?”

“Aw! What’s it gonna be my beautiful daughter?” He ignored her deadly look as she pried at his hands for freedom.“Long sullen silence, or mean comment? C'mon, go on.”

“Aw! How does walking out of here and never coming back sound? C'mon, go on.” She smiled as she watched her father’s maimed face wrinkle into an irritated scowl.

Wade carefully raised from his knees, pulling out the two katanas from the back of his suit.

“How does never being able to leave this house again sound? Sound good?” He placed the two swords on the coffee table, gently caressing them as if they were his own children. Precious and perfect.

“We can watch Disney marathons for the rest of your life and you can help me clean the stove when the French Fries explode.”

He motioned to the food stains splattered all over their kitchen, being more then aware a majority of the red ones were probably not ketchup.

“Jheez, don’t threaten me with a good time.” (Y/N) rose from the couch, sneaking her way past Wade before he could reach out to her. “I’m going out later tonight, by the way. Someone else can threaten me with an even better time.”

“You’re not going out with those guys, again. Just because they drive around in fancy red cars and brand name clothing doesn’t make them good people. I don’t wanna see you fucking around with them anymore. I forbid you.”

“You forbid me?”

“I forbid-ed you. Yes, I have forbid you. Forbbid-ed? Forbbidededed?”

“Why? I didn’t do shit. You fucking know I didn’t,” (Y/N) grunted, the low growl rising from her throat easily.

“You never do. I’m not going to the police station, for the fourth time this month, because you think weed, shoplifting, and trespassing are the highlights of your high school career.”

(Y/N) scoffed, grabbing her shattered cell phone from the ground. She traced her index finger along a new, large crack in the middle of the screen.

“It’s not my fault the cops always gotta’ be up my ass for wanting to have a good time,” she explained, a small smile curving at the end of her lips, “and I don’t even do anything. I just watch, and laugh, and survey. The cops always love pointing their fingers at me. I’m an easy lookin’ target.”

“Yeah, kid. Blame the cops for your petty crimes.” Wade crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at her snarky posture. “They take care of us, you know.”

“You hate cops.”

“When they’re after me, DUH, but in your case, I get why they’re such assholes.”

“Oh c’mon, look where we live … did you expect me to find some intellectual, Harvard students out here in the Bronx? What kind of people do you expect me to hangout with? They’re bad people, yeah, but I’m not far from them.”

“Just — I’m not lettin’ you just throw your life away like this. I want you to be a normal kid, to have a semi-good life. I’m not gonna be here and see you turn out like the rest of them, or like me.”

(Y/N) raised her eyebrows, turning her body towards her father’s vexed gaze.

“I got the Wilson genes. I’m already just like you, Dad,” she deadpanned. “What made you think I could ever be normal? That I could live a normal life? Neither of us were cut out for ordinary.”

Wade’s demeanor dropped suddenly as a furious, hell-bent fire grew between his daughter’s iris’. She was furious by his lack of understanding, of empathy. She had accepted her own reality long ago, why the hell hadn't he?

As she noticed his change of reaction, the fire from her eyes quickly began to spread across the silence of the room.

“Why do you seem so shocked? You didn’t think, that having a Merc as a father, having you as a father, would make me have a normal life? Did you think I would have normal friends? Life is a shit show. A fucking shit show. I’m its fucking star.”

“You don’t gotta remind me how it is!” Wade rasped. “I don’t want you to live in this shit hole! I want you somewhere safe, and clean - somewhere with good people. I’m trying my best here! It’s not good, but it’s my fucking best - it’s all I damn got.”

“You-”

“You don’t get to pull this shit, (Y/N)!” Wade shot viciously, “you don’t get to blame what you do on the life you live-”

“Yeah, and I have the perfect father to show me what’s right. My life is just damn peachy and perfect - or whatever the fuck people say,”

“I taught you right,” Wade argued, watching his daughter pace across the room stubbornly, “I taught you the good from the bad. We didn’t live well, but I gave you all I had. I tried to give you a childhood, one that I never got to have,”

He knew he wasn’t good at this. He didn’t know what to say to her. How could he be a good father when he never had a real example of one?

“Explain to me then, when I was ten,” she begged, “and you put that knife in my hands. I was ten. That was the childhood you desired so desperately?”

(Y/N) grabbed the small, red pocket knife from the waistband of her jeans, flipping the blade out with a satisfying tick. She twirled it around expertly, as if the metal were a part of her. In many ways, maybe it was. She stared at it as if it held as much importance as her own skin and bones.

“You taught me how to fight …”

You always go for their weak spots. You punch, you kick, you never let them have the upper hand. You do what you have to, okay?

“You taught me how to protect myself …”

You might hurt but you just have to hurt them harder. Losing a limb is better than losing a life. Especially if it’s your own.

“You taught me everyday … until I was better then even you …”

“You taught me how to … kill …”

“Kids don’t know how to kill. Kids don’t want to kill,” she blinked, “and then when you told me what I was, what I could do. I became reckless, obsessed,”

She pressed the tip of the knife into her wrist, watching the skin break. Blood began to rise from the cut, bold, red, and bright. “It’s almost relaxing. The feeling of pain and sight of blood has always been ordinary. That’s what you taught me. There was never any good or bad . . .”

“Baby - stop. Please,” Wade pleaded, watching the blood pour from her skin.

“You made me fight until my knuckles were bruised and broken. My healing powers hadn’t even developed. Every mark was made to be long lasting.”

She stared as the wound on her wrist began to heal, the rush of blood protruding from her body stopping suddenly.

As if it never happened.

“You know why I did that,” Wade said softly, “you know I had to. I did everything to protect you. I wish I didn’t have to, baby girl. I couldn’t let you live defenseless. You needed to know how to defend yourself-”

“Don’t give me your shit,” she mustered ruthlessly, “don’t give me your pity, or your shitty looks, or your half-asked attempts of trying to be a good father or a good man! I’m tired of it. I’m tired of you. I’m fucking tired of everyone!”

“Baby-”

In anger and hostility, confusion and hopelessness, (Y/N) gripped the edge of her knife and slid the blade against and through the wall. The metal scraped against the paint, almost like chalk smearing against a chalkboard.

The edge of the blade was covered with her blood, and she quickly aimed it across the room. The blade flung through the air, ending up in the plaster just above Wade’s head.

It was no accident. She was taught to never mistake. No matter how hard she tried, the skill of handling a blade was ingrained in her very soul.

Her father’s jaw set tight as he watched her hands form into tight fists. “(Y/N), please, baby. Just - please,”

She shot him a grave look and gripped onto the hood of her jacket, flinging it over her head.

It would be an incorrect diagnosis for her to conclude that she was but a mere broken being trapped in a mere broken world. She had been broken a million times over. She had been forced together over and over. Pain was normality. It was always going to be.

Making a beeline to the front door, her cell phone gripped between her fingers tightly, (Y/N) quickly stopped in her tracks, her boots skitting against the old tiled floor.

“I’m gonna go find a way to kill myself,” she spoke casually, “my stomach’s always been too strong for bleach, but I’m hoping to find a much more dramatic way to off myself.”

She stared over her shoulder, watching her father’s blood boil as her hand wrapped around the door knob. “Don’t come looking for me, unless you want to find some pleasure in searching for my - hopefully - dismembered body. Losing a limb might be as equally pleasurable as losing my life.”

“DON’T YOU FUCKING LEAVE, (Y/N) - ”

Slamming the door shut, she ran out of her apartment building and followed the rush of her heart in time with the rush of her own destiny.

She use to enjoy the night time. The brightness of a full moon always gave everything a warming glow that emitted this sense of security. The slow of the city made her feel alive, it made her feel like everything wasn’t so bad.

But that night, as she walked cautiously to the subway station, she felt everything but safe.

The Bronx was usually never a good place, but as she spotted huddles of people in dark alleyways and a broken needle crushing beneath her feet, she was praying she could reach the station without any trouble. People loved trouble, and she had the words flashed right across her damned face.

Looking down at her phone, she turned down the brightness in hopes of refraining from grabbing anyone’s attention. She was trying to distract her own anxiety in hopes of halting her growing vulnerability. She clicked on her message application, a line of sweat from her clammy fingertips blurring a stripe of her screen.

Contacts Dadpool Grumpy Metal Arm Man Gambit Rogue Star Spangled Banner Phil Coulson Big Green Dude Black Widow Hammer Dude Jane ‘The Scientist’ Foster Sebastian LeBeau Low-key Loki Spider-Boy The Cable Guy Wolvie Strange Doctor Laura Kinney Iron Bitch Pepper Potts

Gambit

Are you in New York? (Sent at 12:34 A.M)

Her knuckles grew white as she gripped her phone, like the device was a magical sense of security. She desperately awaited Remy’s reply.

Remy LeBeau was a force to be reckoned with. In fact, he was a force she loved to reckon with, actually. He was one good thing her father had given her, an almost miracle being.

Whenever there was no Deadpool, there was usually a Gambit. Whether it be by phone, in person, or in spirit, Remy seemed to always be with her, one way or another.

He helped.

Feeling her phone vibrate between her fingertips, she turned a street corner and eyed the stairs to the subway station wearily.

Non, petite. I’m in New Orleans … what’s wrong? (Received at 12:36 A.M)

Hurrying to the illuminated entrance, she gripped the railing as her footsteps fell in beat with the ragged pants of her breath.

Is Sebastian with you? Rogue? When will you be back? (Sent at 12:38 A.M)

Taking a deep breath, cool and unsteady, she leaned against the red, brick wall of the station and stared into nothingness.

Rogue is at the school, but Sebastian is with me. I won’t be in New York until next week … Petite, what is going on? Why are you up this late? (Received at 12:40 A.M)

She could just see Remy’s face.

She imagined him staying in some fancy hotel out in New Orleans, the theme of the room lined with hues of blues and purples.

She could just see his face, the scowl of worry and concern, sprawled across his features. Worry and concern seemed to take a permanent place on Remy’s face whenever (Y/N) was around.

She could picture Sebastian, too. No matter how hard she tried not to, the image of his contagious smile and brown curls haunted her like a dead disciple.

He was probably sprawled out across his bed, scrolling through his phone like the incompetent, little teenage shit that he was.

She imagined him texting some pretty girl he met, probably while wandering out in the city. He liked doing that. Surveying women. Sometimes not just women. It was a little game he liked to play. It was a dark game; one with hearts and clubs.

A game of cards.

She swore she would never text him. Not ever again. She swore Sebastian LeBeau was dead the minute he wronged her.

He was just like his father. Handsome, mysterious, and bad. She always fell for that. It was a sick attraction, a bug in her own hard drive that begged to not be fixed.

She brought the top of her black hoodie over lips, trying to muffle her frustrated whimpers as she stared down at her screen. To have no one. To only have foes and quarrels. It was a lonely lifestyle, one she realized, she’s always been mayor of.

Hello? Bébé, please answer me. Where is Wade?? (Received at 12:43 A.M)

I know you are reading this. (Received at 12:43 A.M)

I’m going to call your dad. Would you like that? (Received at 12:43 A.M)

For the first time you don’t have anything to say. (Received at 12:44 A.M)

Petite, awnser me. What the hell happened? (Received at 12:44 A.M)

Her phone echoed in the silent subway as Remy’s tried to call her.

Pressing her finger to the broken glass, she pressed ’decline’ and shut her eyes as the device began to vibrate for a second time.

The familiar scents of animal droppings and alcohol teased her senses as her eyes shot open and the vibrating stopped.

She wasn’t going home. Her pride, ego, restraint; maybe the worst parts of her; would never allow it. She wasn’t going to allow it.

New York is a big place, a place she didn’t know anymore. She learned a long time ago that New York was the people, and if you thought really hard, without them; what could it be?

What could she be?

That feeling, nagging, begging, fight or flight, it boiled in the pit of her stomach. That inkling sky of not knowing what to do, who to call, or where to go suddenly became her most prominent anxiety.

Her (E/C) eyes, swollen and burned, landed upon a ripped up advertisement of The Avengers Tower as her she examined the station for a sign of relief. As she squinted and focused on a bright blue A, the rest of her surroundings grew irrelevant and bland.

What could she be?

What she be without the people?

The last she heard, the Avengers, Earth’s Mightiest Idiots, were out somewhere in Singapore on a recruiting mission. (Y/N), as a kid, would find a dark amusement in calling Stark, or pranking Rogers, just for her own evil shits and giggles. Games were no longer an option. They had a reputation, they held the weight of the world on their shoulders. Calling them was no longer an option.

She thought of S.H.E.I.L.D, Coulson and Maria mostly, remembering the last she heard from them, some agents were up in Bangkok, trying to gather intel on any still-standing Hydra bases. She knew it wasn’t a great time to confide in some old friends.

Flipping over her cell phone, digging her nails into the 3 blade marks on the cover, she thought about Laura Kinney. A friend. The only thing she knew about Laura was that she was back up in Canada, and she had refused to take (Y/N) with her. Her absence started that rolling snowball effect. It still hasn’t stopped.

Hesitantly pressing her phone against her ear, she focusing on the ringing emitting from the speaker. Loud, awake, and irritating.

Don’t call him.

Hang up!

You’ll freak him out.

Don’t freak him out.

Are you really that desperate?

Desperation, such a fickle thing.

“Hello?” The ringing stopped, a groggy voice soon taking it’s place. The buzz of passing traffic echoed in the background of the call as she

“Peter,” His name fell from her lips, soft, silent. It was a sound of devastation. A call for help. A call for company.

A loud thud answered back as the distracting sounds of shuffling on the other line muffled a coherent answer.

“(Y/N)? W-what’s wrong? It’s two, two, in the morning,”

“I’m alone,” she breathed, ignoring the cold sweat of a tear falling down her skin. “I dunno’ where to go. I don’t know who to call. Just—I don’t know. I got no one else left, Peter.”

“... Where are you?” She could hear him struggling to get out of his bed. She could see him, trying to pry his feet from underneath his sheets, his hair askew, his eyes tired. “I’m on my way, I’m coming right now. Where are you?”

“I, uh—Bronx Park, East Station,” (Y/N) looked to the transit map hung up on the wall, quickly running her finger across the plastic to find a closest street. “It’s near Holland Avenue. You might know the area. I dunno’.”

She frowned, focusing her eyes upon the dark void of the train tunnel in front of her. The platform at that hour felt like a place she wasn’t meant to be. As if the silence of the usually packed, commuter filled station was a gift that she had no right to receive.

She had maybe been stuck in a void of noise for so long, silence seemed all too precious and heavenly. She just wanted those red lights to blink at her from a far, like a dragon emerging from its dungeon. She wanted a train to grow closer and closer to her, as she stood by the yellow tape, waiting for its passage to bring a gust of air across her warmed cheeks. She wanted the train to take her away. Far, far away.

“Okay,” he told her. “I’ll be there, twenty minutes or less. You can count on it.”

“You’re up in Queens, though, aren’t you?”

She tapped her feet nervously against the ground, her leg bouncing up and down anxiously. “It’ll take you forever to get up here and there ain’t many trains that run at night - and what about Aunt May?”

“Who said anything about a train?” He spoke coolly. She could hear his smile through the other end of the line. “And Aunt May’s not gonna know I left. Don’t worry about me, right? I’m comin’ to you, real soon.”

“Okay. I’ll be here.”

Peter Parker, all the way on the other side of New York, gazed dreamily out of his window as he tried to pry the hatch open.

“Stay out of trouble,” he hesitated, pressing the pad of his hand against the window’s ledge. “Stay safe, I mean — okay?”

“I’m always safe, you should know that.”

Pulling his mask over his head, he skillfully onto the fire escape, not a sound interrupting the odd silence of the night. “Right. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

It is every kids dream to wake up and see their favorite superhero standing before them.

(Y/N) knew she was never destined to be a hero. She never wanted to be one, either. The suit, the respect, the weight of it all. It was an honor much to large for the person she thought she was.

But that night, a dark, lonely night, she needed one.

And he was there.

Blinking the tiredness from her eyes as she stretched her neck from the consequence of lying on a subway bench, she woke to find a familiar figure wearing blue and red, standing before her.

“Hey,” she breathed out, gaping up at him with swollen eyes. “Spider-Man. Thanks . . . Thank you.”

“Let me take you somewhere safe,” he told her softly.

He extended his gloved hand out to her, grasping her delicate fingers as she weakly accepted it.

Peter Parker was Spider-Man. Spider-Man was a hero with great strength and resilience. Every cell in his body was contaminated with humbleness and heroism. Everyone knew of New York’s own, the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man.

That night, the hero in red was saving her. He was saving because she had no where else to go and no where else to stay.

But Peter Parker, he was saving her from a force all on his own. He was saving her from herself. She needed control. She wasn’t going to get it on her own. For the first time, she felt out of grasp with her own world. For the first time, she needed protection and comfort from someone else.

Taking her hand carefully, Peter walked her out of the station, pulling her body near flush to his own. The night winds ghosted their skin as they were no longer shielded from the cold, fall air.

Her hair, (H/L) and (H/T), was tucked messily into her hood. Peter could still smell her scent, cinnamon and peaches, radiating off her clothes and hair as she snuggled closer to him, for warmth.

“I’m gonna need you to hold on,” he told her, motioning to the skyscrapers in the distance.

She cautiously raised both her hands, locking her arms around his neck and nuzzling her face into his chest. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah.”

Then, her feet left the ground.

The night’s air whipped through her hair as she shut her eyes and muted the sounds of honking horns and city whispers. She focused on Peter, the sling of his webs hitting another building as he grasped her tighter.

He webbed his through the city, silent and undetected. He had her wrapped around him, her body so close to his own, he wished he weren’t swinging through the air. As he weaved his way to the East Village, he eyed a small, secluded rooftop close by.

Pointing his wrist to the edge of the apartment building, he swung onto the roof, assuring himself a smooth landing.

As (Y/N) finally lifted her eyes, feeling her feet meet the ground once more, she backed away from Peter, staring softly in his direction as he pulled off his mask.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get use to that,” she panted, licking her dried lips.

The brightness of the moon illuminated Peter Parker’s features in the most magnificently gorgeous way. As he gazed at her, his mouth quickly upturned into a smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she returned, grinning and stepping closer to him. She watched mesmerized, as he ran ran his fingers through his messy curls that danced through the wind.

His eyes. Those crystallized, beautiful hazel eyes.

He moved closer to her, placing his hands slowly against her cheeks, admiring their softness and warmth. He noticed the way she inched into his touch, cautiously, almost unsure. She seemed to let herself go as she finally shut her eyes and sighed.

“I’m here now,” he reminded her, running his thumb gently over her cheekbone. “The world might not feel okay, but I’m here with you.”

She looked down to her feet as she felt her face heat up as Peter’s eyes tried to search her own. He could tell she was on the verge of collapse, yet she was trying so hard to refrain from falling.

“Hey. Look up at me, (N/N),” he begged softly. “You don’t have to hide from me. I won’t let anything hurt you. I promise you . . .”

All he could do, as she left out a small gasp, was carry her in a tight embrace as every tear fell, every heartache, every stab, every person, every cut, and every broken promise cascaded off her cheeks.

He could feel her fists clenching, her jaw setting, as her consciousness seemed unwilling to let her find a form of release.

He heard her silently screaming, suffocating as she buried her face in his chest, trying to grasp at the thin wires of her pride that were held in the balance.

“You’re gonna be okay. I got you now …” He ran his fingers through her hair, trying to calm the battle brewing in her eyes, in her mind.

He had her in his arms before. Vulnerable moments, but that’s all they were. Short, vulnerable moments.

No matter how far, no matter what day, he was always there for her, whenever he could be. When there was no Dad, no Sebastian, no Logan, no Avengers; Peter Parker was always damn there. As Spider-Man was New York’s hero, Peter was her own. He embodied every definition of the word. A real damn hero.

As she gasped for air, struggling to find balance and the strength of her own voice, Peter held her, tight. There they sat, overlooking the Manhattan skyline, as she spoke through the strained cords of her voice. “I fucked everything up. Everything seemed so damn fucked to begin with, but I made everything worse . . .”

“David Stein, Aiden Wilder, Liam Yorkes . . .” Peter gazed down at (Y/N), repeating the names from her story over and over again, like a chant he was trying so desperately to learn.

“I know they don’t have a greatest track record,” she explained, re-positioning herself in his lap. “But, they were all I had.”

“Even up in Queens, (N/N), everyone knows about those guys. They’re the worst kind of people.”

Peter’s legs were around hers, as she told him the story of how she had ended up in the subway station that night. Peter couldn’t help but wrap his arms around her waist, almost as if he were afraid she would float away. Completely evaporate into thin air.

“I had no one else,” she confessed. “I can’t just call you or Ned now because I wanna play tea party. I don’t live in Forest Hills anymore. There’s no way my Dad can afford it.”

Peter was silent as he stared up at the whirling night sky, feeling her touch his arms as she traced the patterned lines of his suit with her fingers. He felt the desire to hold her forever, like her own vulnerability was something he had to fix.

“I remember a long time ago, back at the tower, Mr. Stark offered to help Wade with finances-”

“My Dad’s never accepted a check from anyone. Not from this job. Not even from Tony. He wants to do things his way. Get shit done right or whatever. Even if that means we gotta live in a shit hole . . .”

1:47 A.M.

“I don’t know where I’m going to sleep tonight,” she thought aloud. “I’m not going back home, so please don’t suggest it.”

“I know Mr. Barnes is in town, I think he’s up at the Tower. They’re still getting ready to move into the new compound upstate.” Peter helped her up as she brushed off the back of her pants and stretched her arms up to the sky.

(Y/N) Wilson had this thing. Sometimes she left. Sometimes she would run. The uncertainty of not knowing if she would, terrified him. She stood in front of him, tangible and close, yet, she still seemed like a ghost, hovering off in the distance.

“Grumpy Metal Arm Man, huh . . . I haven’t heard from him in a while,” She quickly covered her mouth as a yawn, proof of her exhaustion, quickly slipped past her lips. “I’m sure he’ll be totally glad to see me.”

Peter smiled as she looked up at him, a smirk covering her face as she stood amused by her own words.

Peter quietly chuckled to himself, adjusting his web-shooters as he looked down at his hands. “I would much rather take you home.”

(Y/N) laughed, her eyebrows raising in complete shock as Peter’s cheeks quickly turned into the scarlet color of his suit. “What’d you say, Parker?”

“Not like that!” He clarified frantically, his eyes bubbling. “I just, I would totally want you to come to my house and get rest, you know, in the guest room and stuff,”

She crossed her arms, a huge smile falling over her lips, as Peter fumbled over his words clumsily.

“But, like, heh, I dunno what Aunt May would think if you just showed up at our door in the middle of the night and stuff, you know? I don’t want her to start panicking and everything. I mean, I could just secretly let you in through my window, but then if she found you-”

“I get it, Peter,” (Y/N) smiled, her eyes peering down to the streets. She walked near the edge of the roof, inhaling a big breath of air. “Barnes seems to be my only option, so I’ll take it. Rooming with Grumpy Cat until morning, it’s gonna be a struggle, but I guess anything beats sleeping out in the streets.”

“At least I know you’ll be safe with him,” Peter agreed, reaching for her hand as he moved towards her. Smiling, placing her hand in his, Peter was thankful that the usually cold pads of his fingertips were covered by his suit.

“As long as you’re good, and you’re safe, I’ll be good too.” His grin matched her own as she turned her head to look at him.

She loved that smile. That perfect curl of his lips.

And he loved the way her eye’s lit up at the sight of the city. Dazzling and completely perfect.

He honestly thought she was the most perfect thing he had ever laid his eyes upon.

“Thank you,” she gripped his hand tightly, curling her fingers with his own. “For everything. For being my hero. As cheesy as that sounds, you were my hero tonight. You saved me.”

“I’d save you any day,” he admitted. “Because, you, you are really special to me and I need you to know that,”

For a woman whom always seemed so stern, stoic, and in charge, Peter didn’t imagine for her blush to grow so deep. To almost match the perfect hue of her rosy, pink lips.

“You mean a lot to me, too,” she breathed, hesitantly placing her hand to his chest. “You’ve—you have always been in my heart. No matter how far you were.”

Their feet were touching as their short breath’s were made audible to each other’s ears. They were almost at the brink of an ending as they stood mere inches from a fall to their deaths. She held no fear, of death nor affection, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed.

She seemed so perfect under the moonlight, as if the wolves’ night star highlighted the most important parts of who she was. She seemed ever so mysterious. So untouchable to everyone else but him.

She almost seemed more deadly than the wolves.

Peter Parker found himself growing more infatuated with death and danger, every moment he spent with her.

“Spidey,” He tensed, his eyes livid as he felt her slowly trace her fingers across the outline of his jaw. “Can you kiss me? Are you gonna kiss me, or what?”

“W-what?”

“P-peter?” (Y/N) tilted her head to the side, her arms still wrapped around his neck, as she followed his eyes, staring at something off into the distance. “Peter?”

“Hey. Yeah. Sorry,” he exhaled, blinking his eyes away from the false reality. “Sorry. I’m good. What’d you say?”

“Can you swing me over? To the Tower?” She pointed awkwardly to the skyscrapers of Manhattan, that hung off in the distance.

“Yeah. Totally—just, hold on tight for me, yeah?”

“Yup,” she locked her hands together again, admiring the innocent twinkle in his eyes as she smiled up at him again. “Let’s go, Spider-Boy.”

“Heyyyy there, soldier.” (Y/N) leaned against the large door frame of the Avengers Tower, eye to eye with a tired and irritable looking Bucky Barnes. He held a look of pure annoyance across his features as she boldly popped her gum in his face with the flick of her tongue.

“What is this, Parker?” He asked Peter roughly, the sound of sleep evident in his voice.

“Well, ah—”

“Well, you see, Grandpa, I kind of need a place to stay.” She cut in, grinning up at the super soldier like a small child.

“I mean, I get it! That ninety year old body of yours is about to shut down anytime soon, but if you don’t mind playing baby sitter, for just one night-”

“I’m not baby sitting you,” he growled, gripping the edge of the door lividly. “No fucking way.”

“ —that would be greatly appreciated,” she mocked, searching his stone cold stare with a tight, lipped smile.

“I’m going back to sleep,” he yawned, swinging the door shut.

“Ah, ah, ah,” (Y/N) shook her head, her foot wedged between the door, still keeping it open.

She grinned and pushed Barnes aside, strolling into the compound with Peter wandering closely behind.

“Tony has made it perfectly clear that I’m practically family,” she argued, making Bucky roll his eyes. “And Tony said I could stay here, whenever I please. And if Tony Stark says that I can stay here then-”

“Fuck! Fine!” Bucky fumed, his face burning red. “Stay here! I don’t care—”

“Great! We are going to have a wonderful time!”

She clapped her hands together and turned back towards Peter, showing him her shit eating grin.

“It’s two in the fucking morning, I swear to fuckin’ God, kid,” Bucky groaned, walking past the two teenagers. “If I hear anything outta the two a’ ya’—you’re gone. I don’t give two shits what Stark says,”

“Yeah, whatever.” She waved her hands randomly, jumping onto the white leather couch in the middle of the compound. “When’s the last time you slept anyway?” She rested her head against one of the soft expensive pillows, her eyes slowly shutting.

“I’m just thinking out loud here and everything, cuz’, ya know, you killed all those people and Tony’s parents, I mean, I can hardly sleep at night, I dunno’ how that can even compare to you,”

“(Y/N)!” Peter whisper-shouted, staring at her in sudden terror. He stood beside the couch she was laying on, a rush of panic quickly crawling its way up his throat.

That’s when Bucky froze, dead in his tracks, completely silent and still.

Silence filled the room rapidly, like a disease spreading across its victim.

“Fuck, okay, I didn’t mean to go that far,” (Y/N) whispered at Peter, watching the size of his eyes grow wide. She placed her palms against the couch, pulling herself quickly into a seated position.

“The fuck did you say?”

The heavy sounds of his feet hitting the floor quickly buried the looming silence.

(Y/N) shot up from the couch, gripping the leather tightly as she looked at Bucky’s tall stature from across the room.

“I—shit just, comes outta my mouth sometimes, Barnes. Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that,” she hesitated, her eyebrows furrowing together.

Bucky stood unblinkingly, meters away from her as his blood shot eyes burned into her own. A piece of his long brown hair fell in front of gaze as he crowned a look of absolute hatred.

God, people should just sew my damned mouth shut.

His hands, seemingly bruised from combat, were clenched into tight fists at his sides, his blue eyes not wavering from hers.

“Barnes, hey, I’m sor—”

“You better not be here in the fuckin’ morning,” he vowed, “you better be gone or I dunno’ what the fuck I’ll do.”

He looked at Peter, then at (Y/N) once more, before flaring his nostrils and storming towards the large elevator at the end of the hall.

Her knee rested against the edge of the couch as she continued to stare down the hallway, watching Barnes enter the elevator and then disappear. The only thing she could feel was the unnerving numbness in her bones and the fearful chills floating across her skin.

“God, (Y/N),” Peter breathed, dragging his hands across his face. “You really, had to just, say something,”

She rested back against the cushions of the couch, positioning her body towards Peter as she watched him tentatively run his fingers through his hair.

“It just slipped out,” she explained, placing her hand over her chest. "That was such an ass move, shit. I didn’t even realize I was saying it until after I said it. I totally know where get that from,”

Peter scoffed, terrified yet somehow amused by her bluntness. “Half the time I’m with you, I just don’t know what to do with you...”

He tossed his mask onto the end table in front of the couch, his eyes following the colors of his suit as they began to grow pale from the automatic lights in the room shutting off.

“Maybe don’t get too comfortable. It’s getting late, it’s already late, maybe you should get goin’. You probably got some test tomorrow or something. Maybe you and Ned are gonna build another Death Star, I dunno’. Either way, I think we both need some rest.”

Her own problems had already led Peter out of his bed and into the streets of New York on a random Thursday morning. She felt guilty enough as it was and having him bring her here just to involve him in more of her problems was beginning to make her physically hurt. She needed him to go. For his own sake. For her sake.

“I know. I just, I don’t really, wanna leave you,” he admitted, his arms falling to his sides.

(Y/N) laughed lightly, shaking her head at his quizzical smile. “I’m a big girl, Parker, and you’ve helped me, more then you’ll ever know. You got to me when I needed you, but I’m good now. I promise.”

He sighed at her sideways smirk, secretly hoping, in one way or another, she would somehow convince him to stay.

He wanted to stay.

With her.

With the mystery.

He wanted to stay with a woman more deadlier than the wolves.

“Aw, c'mon Parker,” she cooed, reaching across the couch for the blue, fluffy blanket sprawled out on the other side of the leather. “You gotta get some sleep. I know you’re gonna miss me, so just dream about me. I’ll dream about you too, if it’ll make you feel any better.”

“God, don’t tease me,” he warned, a sinful smirk forming at the end of his lips. “You’re always damn teasing me - like I’m a child. It’s an evil, little game you’ve always played, and it pisses me off that I suck at it.”

“Aw, hey! It’s not my fault you’re a very easy person to tease. You blush at everything. It’s actually pretty damn adorable, if you ask me.”

(Y/N) rested her head against the warm pillow on the couch, pulling the blanket over her body as Peter continued to look at her with that same innocent, doe-like stare.

“I know you wanna stay, but really, I think you need to go, man. I don’t want Barnes to come up here and go full beast mode. He’s a ticking time bomb and I don’t think you should be around when he finally blows. He’s crazy. I’m not a doctor or anything, but I think I can confirm that he is still, a little, mentally unstable.”

“Lord, you talk a lot, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.”

The dimples on Peter’s cheeks deepened as he chuckled and hesitantly grabbed his mask from the table, grasping it carefully between his covered palms.

“I mean, I guess you’re right, it’s late, I got class early. I should...get goin’ then...”

“Yeah, just, you know, text me later? Tomorrow or something?”

“Uh-huh.”

Smiling softly, believing that was their goodbye, (Y/N) blinked her eyes shut, relishing in the luxury of the compound’s heater and expensive couch that could easily make as a bed.

Not expecting him to still appear in her field of vision, she flinched at the sight of him looking down at her, most of his face now covered by his mask.

He laughed, childishly entertained by the view of her seemingly perplexed by his still presence. “Damn. Sorry. I’m still here.”

“You’re really gonna stall leaving, huh?” She scoffed, reaching her hand out to poke at his face. “You’re very cute, Parker. Super, annoyingly cute. Like a puppy. A beagle! How am I gonna’ get you to leave, huh?”

Peter was leaning against the arm rest of the couch, threatening to bite her finger off as she giggled and continued to pester his cheeks, poking her nails into his skin to irritate him.

He could only admire her laugh for so long, as beautiful and melodic as it was, it was an expression he knew was only temporary.

“Your face is growing all red!” (Y/N) screeched, pinching Peter’s cheeks with her nimble fingers. “So adorable!”

(Y/N)’s laugh, quiet yet passionate, was a symphony that fell from the heart. She raised from the couch and shoved Peter purposely as she walked over to the other end of the sofa for another pillow, chucking it at his head.

No matter how bruised or broken her laugh may have seemed, Peter hoped her laugh could be heard over mountain tops and faded streams for how ever long he had left to live.

For something so precious to be so elusive, so temporary, he wished to have it forever ingrained in his mind, as a part of him.

“Do you ever feel the need to just say something?” Peter asked. “Like, in a conversation. Just so things don’t feel awkward or forced?”

“Like small talk?” She wondered. “Awkward silence is a familiar friend. It’s a great way to piss people out of their own minds. Why’d you ask? ”

“I dunno. Everything just feels easier when you’re around. I can talk to you. Silence doesn’t feel so awkward, I guess.”

“I’m glad I don’t bore you,” She snickered, pressing her lips together. “I find it easy to talk with people that aren’t like me. It’s good to hear a different story other than your own all the time. That shitty saying that opposites attract is so fucking true.”

“It’s very true.” Peter tilted his head. His eyebrows furrowed dramatically as he noticed his foot anxiously tapping against the ground. “(Y/N)...I — I’ve been — I need to—”

“What?” She raised her eyebrow, facing towards him. “What are you thinking?”

What was he thinking?

What the hell was he thinking?

“I think you —” his heart began to swell, along with the sensitive pads of his covered fingertips. “I think you’re —beautiful— when you smile, when you laugh.”

Her grin sullenly faded.

“I — I think you’re right when you say opposites attract. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since you moved out of Queens—”

For a woman with such a high-strung reputation, (Y/N) found no words to breathe or conceive.

She wanted this to be a dream. Peter wasn’t doing this.

He isn’t doing this.

“I think about you all the time and it’s like — you’re always in my head and I can feel you, like you’re right beside me. I can’t stop. I don’t think I want to stop thinking about you— “

A chill crawled up her arm as she watched his face flush red with blood.

“I don’t think you know what you’re saying—” She spoke out of breath, her fingers clenching around the pillow she held between her hands.

“I know what I’m saying—”

“I — I — no. I think you should’ve left, Peter. You should have left a long time ago, I-”

“(Y/N),”

“You need to leave,” She pleaded. “Don’t do this. Don’t make me do this. Peter, leave. Please. Please, Peter — “

“Don’t make you do what?” He demanded. His feet hit the ground hastily as he moved towards her. “I — I told you my truth. I’m not making you do anything —”

“I can’t tell you my own. I can’t deal with that. You shouldn't have said —”

“Don’t hurt yourself more—don’t do that to yourself.”

“Stop denying yourself of feeling anything good. You always find an excuse for your own misery. It — it can’t be that horrible if I feel how I do about you. I can’t control it — no matter how stupidly I’ve tried to. I don’t want to control what I feel for you —”

“You shouldn’t do that to yourself,” She fumed. “I — I don’t think you understand who I am. I break everything —and everyone— around me. I can’t love.”

“You’re not going to break me,” he breathed. “Affection, and love, and everything else that comes with it can’t be learned. It isn't something we practice — it’s a promise.”

“And I can’t promise.” She whimpered defeated. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried it with you before. You know I couldn’t.”

Peter stood in the middle of the living space, his shoulders sagged and his mouth parched for something more than water. He watched her as her body fell, too.

“You need to leave.” Her voice was silenter than a pin drop. “For real this time.”

His lips were parted as he gripped the edge of his mask, backing away from her and her defense.

“I’m sorry.”

He stopped, his back still to her. His feet touched the door as the heavy beat of his main organ begged to be held back.

“I can’t be your hero next time. I can’t save you. You know how hard I’ve tried. I can’t keep pretending the feelings I have for you aren’t there. I — I can’t hold it anymore.”

Peter gripped the handle of the door and shut it behind him, ignoring the soft whispers of (Y/N)’s pleads for him to stay.

“You’re still here.”

In one scream, (Y/N)’s eyes jolted open. The darkness behind her lids quickly faded as the racing speed of her heartbeat stirred her sleep.

Bucky stood in the kitchen, brewing himself a pot of coffee. The air was thick with the aroma, the scent warming her cold skin and fogged mind.

“I’ll be out in ten minutes,” she yawned. She struggled to crawl off the couch as she lost her footing between the blanket she had draped over herself the previous night.

Patting down her jeans, she stared at Bucky as he reached for a box of cereal from the cabinets.

“I’m gonna’ grab a granola bar — if you don’t mind.” She quickly walked into the kitchen, pulling at her hooded sweater. “I don’t have money for food or anything. I might grab more than one.”

“I’m going to the gym.” He stated bluntly, slamming the cabinet shut. “I don’t really give a shit about what you eat or take.”

(Y/N) breathed in the cool air of the air conditioned room as she watched the super soldier grunt and grab a water bottle out of the fridge. His eyes were stale and stern as he refused to glance in her direction.

“Bucky?”

His back was turned as he shut off the running water from the kitchen sink. He couldn’t help but feel the heat of her eyes pressuring against his body.

“I get why you hate me. For last night, you have a great fucking reason to.” She conceded. “But I — I don’t know. You’ve always seemed to hate me, like there’s this unspeakable vendetta you know about but I don’t.”

Bucky shifted on his feet, almost paranoid to move or turn an inch.

“I — when I was a kid, I remember Tony would let me play around in his lab. I would love bothering everyone else, too. But I always saw that look you gave me. I knew not to play with you.”

Her gaze felt to the tiled ground, her eyes straining from the weight of her own words.

“Before my mother left, she always gave me the same look. Even at the age of six, I knew she didn’t want me. You’ve always looked at me with this stare of just — pure disgust.”

His silence continued as her voice was left tainted with hesitancy.

“This is probably the guilt talking — but just — tell me what the hell I did. I fucked up one friendship last night, let me at least mend an enmity. I’m — tired of fucking everything up.”

Bucky mumbled incoherently before he turned, his blue eyes falling over her exhausted form.

He saw the purple underneath her eyes, the bruises on her young skin.

Her agony seemed to hide under her dark clothes and emotionless features, like a wolf hiding in the midst of a midnight forest.

She was a kid.

Just a damn kid.

He could empathize with her desire for control and her need for understanding. She craved to grasp some form. of it. Bucky understood her need, her desire. After Hydra, he craved control after decades of being tamed by evil.

The fire. The burn. The rage.

He could see her eyes floating in a constant battle. He knew her heart had been shattered by a war. Her skin had been bruised from torture.

Empathy is about finding echoes of yourself in another person.

“I don’t hate you.” He murmured. “In some fucked way, you remind me of myself. You — you remind me of — a lot of things. I can’t express — I don’t mean to always come off as such a bleak asshole. I’m sorry for that. I don’t hate you. I never have.”

(Y/N) leaned against the counter, watching as quiet poured between the two of them.

“Kid.” Bucky tilted his head nervously, pushing his bowl of cereal towards her. “Take this as a peace offering. You should eat.”

She gazed at the bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, watching the cereal float in the sweetened milk. “Thank you.”

As he placed a clean spoon on the granite counter for her, (Y/N) returned his peace with a smile. She propped herself up on the island, gripping the metal in her cold palm. “Thanks, James. Do you mind if I call you that? I think it sounds nice.”

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly as he appreciated the sound of his name, one he hadn’t heard in a long time. His eyes softened in return. “It sounds pretty nice when you say it.”

“James it is then.” (Y/N) shoved a spoon of the sugary cereal in her mouth, nodding in content.

“I, uh,” Bucky tapped his foot against the ground, gripping the water bottle in his hands tightly. “I know its not my place to say, but I think you should go see your dad. He cares for you a lot. I think you gotta’ at least tell him you’re okay.”

(Y/N) nodded silently, running her hand across the length of her hair. “Yeah — I’ll try.”

“Okay. Good.” He nodded and pursed his lips tightly together. “I’m heading down to the gym — so. I’ll — see you around, then.”

She only replied with a bob of her head as she watch him enter the nearest elevator, pressing the screen panel inside to access the floor of the gym. “I’ll see you later, Barnes.”

“I thought we were going with James.” He teased, turning his back to the elevator. He smirked and juggled his water bottle between both of his hands. “Makes me feel all special.”

(Y/N) chuckled, shrugging her shoulders in quick agreement. “James. Sure. Whatever makes you feel special.”

Iron Bitch

You’re staying in my tower? Why didn’t you tell me? (Received at 6:23 A.M)

Are you finally moving in? Capsicle and Natasha are gonna be so happy. I think Clint might even be smiling a little bit. (Received at 6:23 A.M)

Her phone buzzing in her pocket, woke her from a distant daydream.

It was only one night. Shit went down with my Dad. I had to leave. (Sent at 6:25 A.M)

Daddypool scares me. Don’t tell him that, though. (Received at 6:25 A.M)

I’m really hoping that was auto correct, Iron Bitch. (Sent at 6:25 A.M)

Damn. I mean Tony. That’s my bad. (Sent at 6:25 A.M)

Jheez, I miss ya, kid. I can’t remember the last time we hung out. The group misses your chaos. (Received at 6:26 A.M)

And no, that was not auto correct. ;) (Received at 6:26 A.M)

Stop yourself. (Sent at 6:26 A.M)

Tell Star Spangled Banner I miss him. The green guy, too. And Natasha. And Clint. And everyone. (Sent at 6:26 A.M)

What about me? :( (Received at 6:26 A.M)

That’s my Cinnamon Toast Crunch you’re eating. (Received at 6:27 A.M)

(Y/N) turned her head and smirked at the camera tucked away in the corner of the room. Stretching her arm, she dramatically shoved the middle finger in its direction. She could just picture the stupid smirk on Tony’s face.

Such an asshole.

You’ve always been such a happy kid. Your glee must stem from the root of your glorious childhood. (Received at 6:27 A.M)

“Ms. Wilson?”

“Uh — yeah, F.R.I.D.A.Y?” She stared around the room blankly, her fingers gripping the counter top.

“Your father and Mr. Howlett are on their way to the compound—”

“My Dad? And Logan? Like Logan Howlett?” (Y/N) stood up from her seat at the kitchen counter, her eyebrows knitting together. “Wolvie? X-Dude? Polverine? Wolverine?”

“Yes, Ms.Wilson. They’ve just arrived at the main gate.”

“Why are they here?” (Y/N) hurried out of the kitchen, quickly making her way toward the exit.

“It is on Mr. Stark’s orders for you to stay in the compound, Ms. Wilson.”

“Mr. Stark’s orders?” She grasped the handle on the front door, loud ticks and grunts of the metal howling in response.

It was locked.

Tony. The compound. Everything’s locked. What’s happening? (Sent at 6:32 A.M)

You have to wait for your Dad. (Received at 6:32 A.M)

“God!”

Grunting furiously, her phone flipping to the ground, she ran to the nearest window, straining her arms as she attempted to budge the pane open.

A thud, unexpected and thundering, echoed from behind as she cried out in vexation.

Spinning around on her heels, the souls of her sneakers squeaking against the ground, she was met with her father’s stare and a familiar scowl from an old friend.

“Hey, Bub.” Logan recited, gripping his leather jacket roughly. “You miss me?”

(Y/N) was held aghast, her lungs shaking for air, as she glared at Logan as if he were a figment of her own imagination.

“Hey?” She panted. “You don’t see me for a whole fucking lifetime and you grow the balls to say ‘hey’ to me—”

“Don’t play, kid,” Logan warned, throwing the cigar between his lips on the tower’s pristine floor. “I don’t got the time for you’re fuckin’ games. And you know we’re way well fucking past saying hey.”

“What are you both even doing here?” She asked crossly, her eyes falling to her father whom was clad head to toe in his normal read and black attire.

“We’ve made some plans,” Wade explained. “You’re not gonna like them—”

“You’re going to Winchester,” Logan snarled. “To the X-Mansion.”

“Like hell I am.”

“There’s no choice here, Bub,” His heavy boot smeared his cigar across the pristine floor. “Your Dad and I, we gotta’ head out on a mission on Monday. You gotta’ go somewhere. This shit ain’t no longer up for discussion, kid.”

To leave a life behind. To leave her own? It was a construct she was unwilling to accept. To change and all lose control, it was a final detour in her life that would ruin the balance she had tried to desperately to cling onto.

“I can’t leave everything. I’m not leaving. I’ll stay alone, like I have before. Nothing has to change.”

“The Avengers aren’t gonna be back till’ the end of the month, there’s no one to watch your back-”

“You had them watch me?!”

“This isn’t a life you should have, (N/N).” Wade huffed. “You need to be somewhere good. Without me. A place with kids like you. Somewhere with people who can help you-”

“I don’t need help. There’s nothing wrong with me!”

“You’re not going good, kid.” Logan sniffed. “I see it in your eyes, how this place is wearin’ you down. You need'a new start. Somethin’ new.”

“I have friends, here. I have all my shit here, my life. I have school, my stuff - God! Are you both hearin’ yourselves?”

“Those people aren’t your friends,” Wade laughed. “This isn’t a life. You’ve been living in a pile of shit for so long, you can’t tell the difference anymore. This isn’t some punishment. This is for you. I’m doing this so you can have your best.”

“Peter Parker.”

“I have Peter,” she sighed. “The kid’s always been here. He’s always been with me. I’m not just gonna’ leave him because you wanna’ send me off to some freak camp.”

“He can visit you. Spidey can visit whenever he wants. But today, you have to leave. You gotta’ go with Wolvie.”

“Stop callin’ me shit, Wilson …”

“I’m not like the other kids,” she spoke thickly. “They have superpowers. They’re gifted. I got nothing to give. I can heal, I can throw a punch. That doesn’t help no one but me. I’m not like them. I’m not designed help anyone.”

“You help everyone, (N/N).” Wade answered. “I know you don’t wanna say it, but you are good like that. You want to help. You can.”

Her lips parted, the pads of her fingers as she was failing to stand her ground and hold up her position.

She couldn’t leave. Not now. Not yet.

To fall apart, to have everything tangible turn to dust right before your very eyes, she thought it would be a different feeling.

She was losing a fight that she was destined to.

“Dad,” she begged, her fingers trembling in time with the shake of her lips. “Daddy, please. Don’t make me go. I can’t. I can’t go . . .”

Behind the mask, Wade’s eyes were soft and sullen. This was his best. It was all he had left to offer.

He was doing his best.

He was doing what he thought was fucking best.

He walked towards her, grasping her cheeks softly in his gloved hands. Her eyes, grown glassy and cold, pleaded with his own. Falling apart, it was a bug within her being that begged to be rid her of a soul.

Wade was no hero, but he hoped he was saving her. He was trying to save her. She needed a new start, a chance for greater beginnings. That was the only thing he knew he was sure of.

“Baby, you gotta go. For once, please trust me. I need you to. Baby, you have to go … We gotta’ go . . .”

Spider-Boy

Hey, Pete. (Sent at 10:34 A.M)

You might not wanna talk, right now. Just text me when you can. (Sent at 11:42 A.M)

I’m at the X-Mansion. Up in Winchester. It’s that mutant school we’re always hearing about. My Dad thinks I’m not okay. He called Logan to take me. It was all super intense and you weren’t there. You should’ve been. I shouldn’t have pushed you out the fucking door. (Sent at 11:50 A.M)

I didn’t get to say goodbye. I’m sending paragraphs of what I’m suppose to say, since you’ve decided to decline my calls. We use to text every night, this shit is far from it. I’m sorry/ Please just text me back. (Sent on Tuesday September 5th at 5:44 A.M)

I’m sorry for what I said. I’m an idiot. You deserve to hate me. I’m sorry. All of my problems are settling in and you used to help me calm down. You used to comfort me. I can’t stop thinking about all the bad shit I’ve done to you. I’m so fucking sorry, Peter. Please. Just reply. (Sent at 6:31 A.M)

I guess you blocked my number. Did you? Please tell me you’re seeing this, Peter. C’mon. I need you. (Sent on September 17th at 7:42 P.M)

I miss you. I’m so stupid for missing you. I can’t keep apologizing for the shit that I did, but you’re all I’ve ever had that was good. You felt things for me, and that terrified me. The idea of your love terrified me. I’m sorry for causing you pain. I hate that I made you hurt. I wanted you, Peter. I always have. But love is terrifying. It’s work. It’s constant. It’s something I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for. Maybe, I’m not suppose to be. I just need to say bye. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know if I’ll ever meet you in New York again, or even if I’ll ever even meet you again. I’ll just keep remembering that night on the rooftop. The skyline, dark and twinkled with stars. You holding my hand, your eyes, shining brighter than the stars and the skyline ever could. You were beautiful, handsome, kind. You always have been. I’ve come to learn that everything fades - “Every star fades eventually.” I guess ours has finally gone out. So, goodbye, Peter. (Sent on October 1st at 8:56 PM)

Goodbye, (Y/N) Wilson. (Received at 9:01 PM)

This number has been blocked.

4K notes · View notes

marvelmando · 7 years

Text

let there be light - pt. 1

summary: y/n has been living with tony stark since she was three, after a lab accident killed her parents, and left her with the ability to create and manipulate light. since then, she battles as an avenger, and eventually, as a babysitter for a certain new hero. she doesn’t mind it though, because she’s always wanted to live a normal teenage life... and possibly also because peter’s cute.

contains: swearing, angst, mentions of death, fluff, some ptsd mentions

notes: hi guys!! this is my first ever series!! i’ve got some of this written on wattpad (if it sounds familiar), so this is not plagiarized, i want to make that clear. but y/n will be different my that oc, so some fresh content is available :) but thank you all so much for the amazing support over the past couple of days! please tell me if you like this, and i can try a tag list too!!

next chapter

“Tony, are you sure this kid is good? I mean, what kind of powers come from spiders? Tony, you know I hate spiders,” You whined, and Tony rolled his eyes.

Okay, you didn’t hate spiders. You just thought they were incredibly creepy and sometimes had nightmares about accidentally swallowing a spider. But you didn’t hate them.

“You’d be surprised, Light-bulb. The kid can throw a punch. Or catch a car, or stop a bus with his bare hands, depending on the video you watch.”

Before you could get anymore information, you saw Happy arrive at the rendezvous, with a fidgety boy in red and blue spandex trailing close behind him. As they approached, you could hear the boy (who you presumed to be Spider-Man, based on the spider-shaped emblem on his chest) firing questions at Happy at a million miles a minute. You tried not to laugh at the desolation on Happy’s face as he tried to ignore him.

But then Spider-Boy’s questions halted, and the bionic eyes on his suit widened. You assumed it was because you and Tony were standing before him.

Since you’d arrived, Tony made you keep up your Illusion. They came with the powers: the ability to make anyone see, feel, taste, hear, or smell anything that isn’t there. You use it mainly to change your appearance, usually when you’re appearing as—

“Artemis! Wow! Um, I—I’m Pete—I mean, I’m Sp—Spider-Man.” The kid bounded up to the two of you. “And Mr. Stark. Hi, um, thanks for bringing me out here! I was just telling—”

“Okay kid, calm down.” Tony said, which made... Pete? shut up instantly. “We don’t have much time before the others start to arrive—”

At that moment, someone announced something over the intercoms in German. You looked to Tony. “Alright, that’s our cue. Artemis, you got him?”

You nodded. Stepping to the boy’s side, you didn’t give him any chance to speak. You grabbed his hand, and wrapped his arm around your waist. He stiffened, which made you smirk.

“Hold tight, Spidey.” You said, before you Beamed over to a cluster of wooden boxes, effectively hiding both you and Pete.

Beaming is what you like to call your super-speed. You can run at the speed of light, but because it often takes a lot of energy and requires a strong level of concentration, you don’t use it too often. Instead, you usually run at a speed that’s closer to the speed of sound, which is still fast, but when taking others (especially those who are caught off-guard), it can induce dizziness and vomiting. Hopefully, Pete wouldn’t do the latter.

When you released him, Spider-Man put his hands on his knees, catching his breath. “Woah, that was awesome.” He groaned, not appearing so awesome.

“Okay, I’m sure Happy told you part of what’s going down right?” You asked him once he stood up straight. “You know what your job is?”

He nodded. “Come out at the code word, web Captain America up, take his shield, and... I’m not really sure what comes after that.”

“Depending on what goes down...” You grimaced, hoping this wouldn’t escalate to fighting and Steve would come to his senses. “You’ll just have to keep everyone occupied and make sure no one gets to the garage over there. Think you can do that?”

“Yeah! Um, I mean, I’ve got this, no problem.” Spider-Man stuttered.

“You do talk a lot, don’t you?” You laughed.

“No! Well, only... only when I’m nervous, I guess.” He scratched the back of his neck, and rubbed the top of his head. You figured this would been when he ran his fingers through his hair, if he could.

“I get it,” You watched as Steve came into view. “I was nervous before my first fight too.”

As the two of you looked on as Tony tried to stop Steve, Pete muttered, “Yeah... the fight.”

You grew restless at the way the conversation was getting increasingly more tense. Steve then mentioned something about the doctor, and how there were more Winter Soldiers. While Spider-Man was clueless, you knew better, your interest piqued.

Tony wasn’t having it, though, and you could tell he was barely restraining his frustration. “Alright, I’ve run out of patience.” He said, and you knew what was coming. You nudged Spidey’s elbow, signalling him to be ready. “Underoos!”

Both superheroes sprang into action. While Spider-Man leaped high through the air above everyone’s heads and grabbed Captain America’s shield, you Beamed past, binding Steve’s wrists in a rope made of light.

Pete landed heroically on top of a nearby truck, on one knee with the shield on his arm. You stopped at the empty spot next to Tony.

Between Beaming twice already, and Fusing the rope, you’d grown slightly exhausted. “Nice job, kids.” Tony addressed them.

You would’ve given a snarky response, but you were out of breath. You nodded, though. Spider-Man was not so out of breath.

“Thanks!” He said, sitting straight as he settled on the knee. He looked down at himself. “I could’ve stuck the landing a little better, it’s just... new suit—” Realizing how that sounded, his head snapped up. “Wait—it’s nothing, Mr. Stark, it’s perfect, thank you.”

You smiled at his awkward babble, but Tony wasn’t as amused. “Yeah, we don’t really need to start a conversation.”

Spider-Man nodded, but wasn’t listening to Tony apparently, because he was too in-awe of the other superhero in front of him. “Okay. Cap—Captain.” He saluted at Captain America, who’s mouth was hanging open a little, obviously a little surprised. “Big fan; I’m Spider-Man.”

Tony was getting annoyed. “Yeah, we’ll talk about it later.”

Spider-Man exhaled, waving his hand. “Hey, everyone.”

“Not now, Spidey.” You muttered to him, still grinning to yourself.

“You’ve been busy,” Steve said, contrarily bemused by the situation. Your smile slid off your face as you glared at him.

"And you've been a complete idiot." Tony shot back. "Dragging in Clint, 'rescuing' Wanda from a place she doesn't even want to leave—a safe place. I'm trying to keep—" Tony's voice raised in volume, and he broke off with a sigh. "I'm trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart."

You hated seeing Tony like this, and your heart ached for him because you knew how much he’d grown to care for the Avengers Initiative.

But you kind of lost it, when Steve replied, “You did that when you signed.”

“Cut the shit, Steve.” You scoffed, and his eyes turned to you, shocked. “We did that? Tore the Avengers apart by signing a damn peace accords? Please, without the contract there wouldn’t even be an Avengers team anymore.” You shook your head at him. “You’re so hell-bent on saving people with this, but we wouldn’t be able to without the contract, not legally, anyways. And you know that! You know I love you and I know how important Bucky is to you, but he’s dangerous. He isn’t worth the risk.”

Steve leveled his head at you. “Oh, and you’re not just as dangerous as him?”

You could feel the blood boiling in your veins, and Tony had to hold you back, while you held back tears.

Tony had enough. “All right, we're done. You're gonna turn Barnes over, and you're gonna come with us, now, because it's us... or a squad of J-SOC guys with no compunction about being impolite."

Now that you weren’t struggling against Tony anymore, you noticed how he was shaking. He was stalling. Stalling, in the hopes that Steve could change his mind, stalling for one last chance of keeping his family from tearing apart. "C'mon," he urged, pouring every last bit of hope and desperation into the one word.

The Captain's head turned, as if he was suddenly aware of something. Suddenly, before anyone could react, Steve lifted his bonded hands above his head, and an electrically charged arrow sliced through your light-rope, effectively freeing him. Iron Man's helmet activated, and you could hear Steve say, "All right, Lang," into his ear piece, but you had no clue who or what a 'Lang' was.

"Hey guys, something—" Spider-Man said, before grunting loudly, as a man appeared next to him, seemingly out of nowhere. He kicked the boy down, snatching Cap's shield back. You readied yourself for action, charging your hands up with light energy and Fusing a light bow and arrows.

"What the hell was that?!" Rhodey exclaimed into his suit.

The man, you assumed, handed the shield back to its owner. "Ah, great. All right, there's two on the parking deck." Tony informed everyone through the comms. "One of them's Maximoff, I'm gonna grab her. Rhodey, you wanna take Cap?"

"Got two in the terminal, Wilson and Barnes," Rhodey responded.

Black Panther, whom you had completely forgotten was here, took off. "Barnes is mine!" However, Steve stopped him in his tracks.

Spider-Man hesitated, looking to you. "Artemis, what do I do?"

Preparing yourself for flight, you nodded toward the terminal. "Let's web 'em up, Spidey."

"Okay, copy that." As he shot webs and swung himself away, you took off flying. You maneuvered the light particles in your hands so that they created enough energy to push your body off the ground and through the air, which was a trick you'd recently learned.

As Spider-Man landed on the windows of the terminal, he tried to catch up with Wilson and Barnes by clinging to the surface and crawling across it.

And, as amusing as it was, you called out to him, "You know they're on the other side of the glass, right, Web-head?" You teased, floating in front of him and phasing through the glass. His suit's bionic eyes widened, and he yelled, "whoa, that was so cool!" before swinging around and flying through the glass.

Spider-Man went to Wilson first, and you landed right in front of Bucky. You started to shoot blasts of light at him, making sure to dodge his punches. You laughed as he kept missing, and he became more impatient. “Aw, lighten up, Barnes! Get it? Because I’m made of light!”

As you pelted him with a particularly solid blast of light, you pouted. “I hope there’s no... hard! feelings after what I said out there. Strictly business, you understand.”

Bucky suddenly grabbed you by the throat with his normal hand, and lifted his metal arm to punch you, but Spider-Man swooped in and caught it with ease.

Gasping for air, you backed away. “You have a metal arm? That is awesome, dude!”

Mildly in pain but equally impressed at how easily Spider-Man caught Bucky’s arm, you grinned and took the opportunity that Spider-Man was now battling Bucky, to knock back some light arrows at Sam’s wings. The bow and arrows had been your go-to weapon since you first used it in the Battle of New York, when you Fused the first thing that came to mind (you were in a Hunger Games phase). After it was over, the media had named you Artemis, after the Greek goddess of archery.

You only needed to fire one, because you could easily manipulate the arrow into his pack, temporarily shutting it down. Only for a brief second, though, because his wings opened back up, but not before swooping down and taking Spider-Man with him.

You cursed to yourself. You and Bucky stood there in an odd moment of calm, watching as Spider-Man struggled against Sam’s grip. “You have the right to remain silent!” Spider-Man yelled, making you laugh.

Bucky, remembering where he was, resumed his fighting stance. “You two were made for each other.” He grumbled bitterly, and you smirked.

As Spider-Man and Wilson were dueling in the air, you and Bucky were battling on the ground. You grew tire of throwing light blasts, and even tried Fusing a baseball bat and hitting him with that once. But he dodged it, and grabbed at a nearby metal bench. With his strong arm, he ripped it right out of the ground and hurled it at you.

Luckily, you were not completely surprised and moved your head quickly out of the way (and by quickly, you mean at the speed of sound). The chunk of metal narrowly missed Spider-Man behind them. Bucky ran and hid behind a support beam, but Spider-Man had seen him, and yelled at him, “Hey buddy, I think you lost this!” before chucking the metal back at him.

Looking up to help him, you watched as Wilson kicked into Pete's back, and pushing towards the ground, before Spider-Man shot his webs, pulling himself from Sam's grasp. You remembered hearing something about an automatic shut-off switch on the back of Sam's wings, and Fused your bow and arrows, shooting blindly at his back.

Luckily, you must've hit it, because his wings immediately retracted, causing him to fall through the air, and into a booth. Nearing the rail, Spider-Man swung by and shot his webs at Sam's hands, attaching them to the metal railing. Spider-Man clung to the side of a support beam, and everything was strangely calm for a second.

“Those wings carbon fiber?” Pete asked.

“Is this stuff coming out of you?” Sam looked at his hands, mildly disgusted.

“That’s what she said,” You joked to yourself.

"That would explain the rigidity-flexibility ratio, which, gotta say, that's awesome, man." Pete said, more or less answering himself.

“You know, Spidey, as much as I appreciate a little commentary, there’s not usually this much talking in a fight.” You pointed out, and Sam nodded.

Instead of being embarrassed, which is what you expected, Spider-Man chuckled. "All right, sorry. My bad." He then swung at Sam.

Suddenly, Bucky appeared out of nowhere, blocking Spider-Man, but not stopping him from knocking them both through the railing and onto the ground. Spider-Man webbed Wilson's arms to his chest, and Bucky's metal arm to the ground.

"Guys, look, I'd love to keep this up, but I've only got one job here today, and I've gotta impress Mr. Stark, so, I'm really sorry." Pete explained.

However, you noticed Wilson's hand move under the webbing and the net, and you could tell it was his wrist monitor.

"Webs—" You started to warn him. But, before you could get anything else out, as Spider-Man extended his arm to shoot a web, Redwing flew in and caught hold of Pete's hand, zooming out the window. Spider-Man banged awkwardly against the building's framework, and flailed through the air as Redwing tugged him along.

You turned to glare at Sam, who simply shrugged, before flying back after him.

Apparently, Spider-Man had been dropped, because he was squirming around on the concrete. You saw a small cut on his arm, where the glass had pierced through the fabric and his flesh. Landing near him, you grabbed his hand gently.

He began to fight back before he realized who it was, and he relaxed.

"Hey, quit squirming so I can heal you, dumbass." You gripped him harder, exposing the wound a bit more so you could make contact with his skin. You pressed your fingertips against the area around his cut, and allowed the light to flow through your chest and into your hands.

The illumination of your skin reflected off of his bionic eyes, and against your better judgement, you wished you could see the look under his mask. He stayed silent in awe, but looked at your face the entire time. You couldn't read Pete's expression, but you knew it was impressed.

After the wound stitched itself back together, you dropped his arm. "You okay? The healing tends to make people a little dizzy afterwards," You helped him stand, and Spider-Man swayed slightly.

Both of the your attentions were attracted when a truck went flying through the air, landing near Rhodey in a fiery explosion. Caught off guard, you recharged your hands, ready for the next attack. Beside you, Spider-Man crouched, as if ready to swing into action in a moment's notice.

Catching up to Tony and a fallen Natasha and Rhodey, you took the woman's arm, while Tony helped his friend.

"All right," Rhodey grunted. "Now I'm pissed."

"Is this part of the plan?" Nat asked Tony.

"Well, my plan was to go easy on them. You wanna switch it up?"

As Captain America's team ran for the hanger across the strip, you could see Vision flying in and cutting them off in their path with a beam from his Mind Stone.

"Captain Rogers," Vision spoke, floating ten feet above the ground, and looking pretty badass. "I know you believe what you're doing is right. "But for the collective good, you must surrender now."

One by one, Iron Man's team assembled across from them, separating Cap's team from the hangars.

Apparently, you figured, the talking was done, because Steve started towards his adversaries.

Beside you, Natasha sighed. "This is gonna end well,"

And with that, both teams were walking towards the other, without the intent to stop. As Captain Rogers picked up the pace, Pete seemed to freak out a bit. "They're not stopping!"

"Neither are we." Tony lamented, and for the first time, you hesitated.

This was your family; how were you supposed to fight against them? Why were they resorting to violence? For a split moment, you despised this life you had. But you couldn't think about that now, not when half of the Avengers (and this 'Lang' character) were running towards you, and certainly not for a hug.

You looked to Spider-Man, who seemed confident. You willed yourself to stay strong, and as Tony, Rhodey, and Vision flew into the air, you hovered as well.

And then the Avengers collided.

As each team member fought their own opponent, you chose to help Spider-Man battle Wanda. The Scarlet Witch threw her red energy blasts towards you with one hand, and launched vehicles at Spider-Man with the other. He made loads of different grunts and yelps as he shot web after web, trying to dodge the trucks. You fought back with your own light blasts, and even tried swiping her out from underneath her feet at one point, but Wanda took you by the foot with her energy and dragged you far away.

You had to hand it to her, she was doing much better at fighting off two people than you had done against one, but you didn't let her win.

You did, however, stop fighting her, as you went to find Steve. You wanted to have a word with him. And by word, you meant a good punch in the face, even if your hand did break in the process.

As you'd just found him, Spider-Man was swinging by, when Steve threw his shield and cut his web. Spider-Man rolled on the roof of a gangway, crouching. You split the distance, so you all stood in a triangular shape.

“Now, now, boy’s let’s play nice, yeah?” You teased, settling your hands on your hips.

"That thing does not obey the laws of physics at all." Spider-Man stated.

“That’s true, Spidey, but neither do I.” You smirked, forming your own shield out of light.

"Fair point, Glow-stick." Spider-Man shrugged, and your cheeks began to glow slightly at your new nickname. Literally.

"Look, kids, there's a lot going on here that you guys don't understand." Steve interrupted, slightly frustrated.

"Mr. Stark said you'd say that, wow." Spider-Man said, before flicking his wrist, shooting a web at Cap's shield, as you grabbed one of Steve's ankles with a Fused whip.

Pulling him towards Spider-Man, you released the energy in your whip, and Spider-Man used the momentum to kick him hard in the chest, sending him flying back into the gangway.

Rolling a good distance away, he laughed, "He also said to go for your legs."

Steve lunged towards his shield, which was a couple feet away from him. Reacting unnaturally quickly, both young heroes restrained the captain. Spider-Man held his hands back with his webs, and you Beamed over, which you could feel a massive energy loss. You kicked the shield away, and while he couldn't use his hands, you used the opportunity to punch him really hard in the jaw.

You yelped, cradling your broken hand against your chest, hopping around as you tried to distract yourself from the pain. Totally worth it, you thought, as you noticed a bruise start to blossom on his jawline.

You could feel the bones start to heal themselves, but you were forced to stand back a little while Steve managed to use Spider-Man's webs to his advantage. Spinning through the air, Steve slingshot Spider-Man back. Once he recovered, he tried to attach a web back onto his shield, but Steve grabbed the web and yanked Spider-Man back, slamming his head against the vibranium.

You cringed for Pete; even with regenerative powers, that was definitely going to leave a mark.

He recovered impressively quickly though, vaulting himself on top of the gangway.

“Stark tell you anything else?” Cap looked up at him.

"That you're wrong; you think you're right. That makes you dangerous." Spider-Man shrugged, then swung himself around the gangway and hurled himself at Steve. The Star Spangled man roundhouse kicked him, sending him flying back into the leg of the gangway.

"Webs!" You gasped, still mildly in pain. You tried to sprint normally over in time to get him out of there, but Steve had already chucked his shield at the leg, causing the structure to fall on Spider-Man.

"Artemis!" Spider-Man yelped, thinking that the gangway was going to strike you, but he lifted his hands up, and caught it. With your good hand, you Fused a light sheet to hold up the structure, or at least help your comrade.

Steve, whom you thought had already left, put his shield back onto his arm. "You got heart, kid. Where you from?"

"Queens." Pete grunted.

Turning, Steve smirked. "Brooklyn." And with that, he bolted.

You saw the light in your peripherals begin to fade, and you whimpered. Spider-Man yelled out in frustration, managing to lift the whole thing on his own. "Go!" He shouted at you, and you did so gladly.

You collapsed not a couple yards from there, while Spider-Man shot a web and yanked himself out from under the structure before it fell. Now free, he ran to you.

You were panting, and you desperately tried not to let your Illusion fade, now that he was over here. That was one thing Tony had stressed. Don’t let him figure out who you were. "Hey, hey, Glow-stick, you okay? Look at me." Spider-Man tended to you, checking you up and down.

"I'm good—go," You gasped, feeling your light mask starting to dissipate. Spider-Man hesitated, but he was forced to change his mind when suddenly, small guy turned big.

"Holy shit!" Spider-Man exclaimed, and you breathed out a tense chuckle. As he left to battle it out with the giant, you crawled behind some boxes.

Letting your powers go, your alter-ego’s white hair faded into your own, and the eyes that turned white when you used your powers, closed. You took deep breaths. Your powers were almost drained, and you used what ever was left into healing your hand. You examined it; you could flex your hand open, but it still felt sore.

After a few painful minutes of recovering, Tony asked, "Okay, anybody on our side hiding any shocking and fantastic abilities they'd like to disclose, I'm open to suggestions. Artemis, I'm talking to you, Light-bulb!"

"Nah, T, the well's gone dry," You winced, and Tony groaned.

The boxes you hid behind suddenly exploded, and it didn't take long for you to find out that Giant dude kicked your hiding spot away. You immediately put back up your facade, sprinting towards Black Panther, who was seconds away from being the giant's new toy.

As Rhodey swept in, Spider-Man swinging along, Hawkeye began to duel with the Wakandan king. Figuring that fight was fair enough, you decided to go and help your team defeat the monster.

Eventually, Rhodey abandoned Lang, and flew off to stop Steve and Barnes from getting to the hangars, leaving you and Spider-Man to defeat Ant-Man yourselves.

Spider-Man scaled the giant, crawling up and over Lang's helmet. You tried to minimize using your powers, so you didn't completely drain them. You mainly shouted directions to your young new friend, telling him points of possible weakness.

Then, Vision used his body as a bowling ball, slamming into Ant-Man's torso and knocking him backwards against an airplane. Vision, now distracted by Captain and Barnes sprinting across the airstrip, phased through Lang.

Visually startled, Ant-Man grasped his chest. "Something just flew in me!"

On the other side of Lang, Vision shot a cutting beam from his Mind Stone, slicing a radio tower in half, causing it to topple over right at the entrance of the hangars.

Too distracted by Spider-Man's cries of frustration, you ignored Wanda's distant cries of pain and the overwhelming sounds of destruction.

"Hey, guys, you ever see that really old movie, Empire Strikes Back?" Spider-Man shouted. You laughed, for what felt like the millionth time.

"Jesus, Tony, how old is this guy?" Rhodes groaned, and you could practically see Tony's eyes rolling.

"I don't know, I didn’t carbon-date him. He's around Artemis’ age, on the young side!" Tony responded.

"You know that part where they're on the snow planet... with the walking thingies?" Spider-Man shouted, swinging himself around Ant-Man's legs.

You Fused another light-rope, grinning as you understood what the boy was saying. "Guys, I think he's onto something!" You attached your rope to Spider-Man's web, and beamed around the giant's legs.

"High, now Tony, go high!" Rhodey instructed Iron Man, who then both flew with their fists aimed at Lang's jaw, knocking him off-balance, and sent him to the ground.

Completely basking in the accomplishment, Pete gave Tony a thumbs up, still slinging around Ant-Man.

"Yes!" Spider-Man laughed. "That was awesome!"

Distracted by Pete's joy, you smiled, your eyes glued on the boy. It was too late by the time you noticed Spider-Man flying straight towards the giant hand, which, in turn, caused Peter to smack straight into you.

Your body taking most of the blow, the two of you crashed through a nearby stack of boxes.

Groaning in pain, you felt your Illusions begin to wear off again. Beside you, Pete was barely conscious, and you struggled to at least keep your hair white. Iron Man came flying to you, and Pete, whose mask was halfway off, was laying on the ground motionless.

Tony looked to you first, but you nodded to Pete. He crouched down at the boy, "Kid you all right?"

Reacting on instinct, Pete began to fight off his attacker, before realizing it was only Tony. "Same side! Guess who. Hi!" Tony grabbed him by the wrists, stopping him from pummeling the multi-billionaire.

Pete calmed down, letting out a sigh of relief. "Oh... hey, man,"

"Yeah."

"That was scary,"

"Yeah," Tony nodded. "You're done, all right?"

Pete blinked. "What? I'm good, I'm fine,"

You groaned, clutching your side. You made a move to stand up. "Pete, you did good job, stay down. Let us handle the rest."

Tony's head whipped to you. "Oh, no, you're both done."

"What?!" You exclaimed, at the same time Pete said, "No it's good, I gotta get him back!"

"You're going home, or I'll call Aunt May!" He yelled at Spider-Man, before turning to you. "And I'll put you in the Dark Room!"

You immediately stopped arguing, eyes going wide at Tony's threat. Tony never used it as a punishment, but the thought alone of going in there made you shudder. Spider-Man, however, wasn't deterred.

"Wait," He whispered, trying to get up. You watched him with weary eyes as he eventually gave up fighting. He slumped back down on the ground, clutching his side.

You laid down beside him, the two of you breathing in heavily as you both tried to recover from the intensity of the battle.

After a couple minutes of relative silence, Peter spoke. "What's the Dark Room?"

You sighed. "It's the place where I go when my powers malfunction," You started, sitting up. Pete perched himself up on his elbows, watching you. "It's a room without windows, no light, completely sound and heat proof, so no one gets hurt."

You trailed off. He then said, “My name’s not actually Pete, by the way. I’m Peter.” He held his hand out to you, his mask now completely off. He was cute, brown eyes and matching hair, tousled from the mask.

Eventually, Tony came back to retrieve you. You said your goodbyes to Peter as Artemis, while you and Tony left on a helicopter. Tony dropped you off at the airport, where you flew back to New York.

The next day, you leaned against the car, waiting for Happy and Peter to get off the jet. For some reason, Tony wanted you to meet Peter as yourself.

Once they landed and exited the plane, you smiled at the two. “Hello, Happy. Hi, Peter.”

Peter looked even cuter today, now in jeans and a shirt with a science pun on it. “Do I know you?”

“I’m Y/N, Mr. Stark’s intern. I’m here to escort you back home.”

And you did. Peter was endearing, and very surprised when you informed him that he was keeping the suit. After the good-byes, and Happy took you back to the Stark tower, you sighed at the sight of a very battered Tony Stark.

You took a chair and faced him, reaching out to heal him. He shook you off, which was not like him. “He killed my parents.” He said, and your heart broke for your father-figure. “Bucky, I mean. But Steve knew.”

“I’m so sorry, Tony.” You said quietly, grabbing his hands for comfort, being careful not to hurt him.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Tony responded, and you nodded.

“Anyways, I wanted to tell you something.” He rose from his chair, walking around into the kitchen. He poured himself a generous glass of bourbon. “You like Peter?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, he’s sweet.”

Tony nodded. “Kid’s got potential.” He agreed. “But I need you to do something. Go on a mission.”

You nodded, liking where this is going.

“Well, he needs some guidance. He’s still a baby superhero, and he’s got a chance of screwing up big time. That’s where you come in.” He took a sip. “You’re seasoned, you’re a wise elder. And you can... help him. Guide him.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “But how am I going to do that?”

Tony smirked, which excited you. That was his ‘I’ve-got-a-plan-and-I’m-up-to-no-good’ face.

“Light-bulb, you’re going to high school.”

427 notes · View notes

waywardimpalawriter · 7 years

Text

Know you more (Bucky Barnes x plus size reader)

Know you more

Summary: From the moment you met Bucky Barnes you’ve want to get to know him. So what happens when a little game of twenty questions that he doesn’t know you’re playing becomes something more?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus size Reader

Characters: Reader, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers (mentioned) Peggy Carter (mentioned), Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton,

Setting: future but they still have a place in Stark now Avengers tower in New York.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: None just fluff

Word count: 2,336

Notes: Part of this story is a anon request I received, the second part of inspired by @promarvelfangirl 2K Fall follower celebration #pmfgk2. Hope everyone enjoys and as always feedback is always welcome and appreciated.

Tags: let me know by ask or message if you want on or off the list.

Forever: @winters-buck @angryschnauzer @feelmyroarrrr @aquabrie @fandommaniacx @thetalesofmooseandsquirrel @supernaturallymarvellous @ginasmith @marvel-lucy

Marvel: @sebbytrash @ek823 @melconnor2007 @kanupps06 @badassbaker @geekyweed @creideamhgradochas

Bucky Barnes: @nerdyandproud9 @reniescarlett

Know you more: @ggrubi @secondsandstars @of-iron-and-ink @jasmineladjevardi @peter-pan-hoe @vintage-switch @i-should-probably-be-asleep-rn @flerghfood @modestlyconfused @ ashleydivine

“Hey Bucky,” seeing him look up at you, “Coffee or tea?”

Brow raised thinking at first that you’re trying to be a smart ass but seeing the genuine interest on your face, “Both just depend on what I’m in the mood for. Why?

“No reason just wanted to know is all,” giving him a bright smile while turning back to making your own tea.

Shaking his head a half smile finds its way onto his face. Sure it’s been years since the programing Hydra put in his mind, their way to destroy humanity and reshape it as they see fit, was taken out and he’s rejoined the world sorta speak. Though there are times when he still feels like he doesn’t fit in, never will, even with the pardon and his POW status granted to him. Bucky finds this world a little jarring at times and much like Steve he feels like a man out of time. He tries to blend in, to move forward, and get to know people other than the Avenger’s like you for example. However, he always finds himself staring, trying to think of just what to talk to you about and always falling just a touch short of the right words.

Looking up, catching you staring at him, “Something on my face?”

“Or take a picture of his ugly mug it’ll last longer sweetheart,” Sam replies first coming into the kitchen dripping with sweat from his early morning run. Sticking his head into the refrigerator for a bottle of water and an apple; turning to lean against the counter munching on the apple, looking between you and Bucky.

Rolling your eyes, “No Bucky nothing’s on your face,” standing you glance over at Sam, “But you better get yours looked at,” Bucky’s laughter is music to your ears as you leave.

“Laugh it up metal man,” Sam snarks back which is the last words you hear before getting out of hearing range.

Ever since joining the med team at Avenger’s Compound two years ago you’ve wanted to get to know the former Winter Soldier. Sure you read everything you could about the man in question, watched the trial they put him through giving him a pardon when all was said and done. Always wanting to know the man behind the name and not what the press or tabloids try to sell. Kind with a side of self-loathing, most of the time quiet only talking to the other Avenger’s mostly Steve. You could tell he’s trying to get his baring’s in this world were one half still wants him dead the other hounding him for a full story. You’re stuck in the middle just wanting to get to know the man on a deeper level.

That’s when you came up with the idea of random 20 questions at times when he doesn’t know you’re asking. Truth be told you’d had a crush on the man ever since meeting him but told yourself he wouldn’t think of you as anything more than a friend, which you’ve accepted now.

Getting back to your room three floors up and flopping onto the bed thankful it’s your day off, you ponder what to do with yourself.

Midafternoon hunger has you emerging from a short nap, having fallen asleep while reading a book. Finding the kitchen empty you lean against it thinking on what to make.

“FRIDAY?”

“Yes Ms. Y/L/N,” soft Irish lilt answered your call.

“Is there anyone else home this afternoon?”

“Teams 3 and 6 as well as Ms. Romanoff, Mr. Barton, and Mr. Barnes ma'am.”

“Thank you FRIDAY,” still leaning forward onto the island tummy rambling.

“Better get that monster fed kid sounds likes your starvin’ it,” Clint jokes walking in right at that moment.

Rolling your eyes, “You so funny Barton,” comes the snarky reply turning to face him. “What you hungry on?”

Pausing to think, “Sandwich is fine with me.”

“We cookin’ lunch or going out?” Natasha asked making her presence known by coming in and hoping on top of the counter beside you.

Making a face, “I’m kinda tired of fast food,” you answer stepping away from the counter to look into the refrigerator. “It’ll take an hour but I could make semi homemade spaghetti?”

“A favorite of mine,” Bucky exclaimed quietly from your left. “Can I help?

Smiling, voice stuttering a bit, “I’d like that Buck,” turning your attention back to the fridge pulling out various items. ‘When did I start calling him Buck?’ you ask yourself but shake it off he’s a friend right?

“I know this perfect little place that has the best bread this side of the Brooklyn Bridge. You two work on lunch while Clint and I go pick that up,” Natasha announces taking Clint’s arm and pulling him from the room.

“Grab some red wine while you’re out,” you call but figure they were already too far down the hall to be heard.

Getting to the elevator Clint stops, “Why have we volunteered to get bread of all things?” he studies her closely, shaking his head. “No Nat come on you know how well this turned out with Steve when will you stop trying to set people up?”

Smirking, “I just know something have no fear and trust me for once. You know you use to do that.”

“Still do just not with your match making skills is all,” he tossed back getting into the elevator beside her.

Meanwhile Bucky busied himself with pulling pots and pans out a little unsure of what he got himself into. Even while looking over at you, seeing the way your shirt clung to your curves, Y/H/C hair hanging loose for once to fall down your back. Shaking his head and looking away so you don’t catch him staring this time.

“Hey Buck you have a favorite color?” pulling the ground meat from the fridge, starting to unpack it for the frying pan. You look over your shoulder at him seeing he’s getting water in a big pot.

Looking back at you, “Not really though I seem to wear dark colors mostly so that.”

An adorable half shrug from him makes you smile while your heart flutters, “Well mines blue, like your eyes,” you add in a whisper praying he hasn’t heard you.

Silence fell between the two of you as Bucky watched you work pulling cans of tomatoes and sauce along with a few tubes of tomato paste. Different seasoning, fresh garlic, mushrooms all get chopped and added as your oblivious to the fact that he’s watching your every move.

“What about music? Did you have any favorites from back in the day?” you’ve turned to catch him staring but brush it off. “And now is there anything you really like?”

Thinking as he takes the pot to the stove brushing your arm that sends tingles through his body at the mire contact. “Well The Andrew Sisters were really good and anything you could dance to. As for now I haven’t really listened too much of today’s music,” he answers sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck.

“FRIDAY could you play my oldies play list please,” you call out seeing the confused look on Bucky’s face. “When I was growing up mom use to listen to all the big stars, Elvis, The Beach boys, The Temptations, she got me hooked on music at a very early age. I’ll have you listening to everything new before you know it.”

Right then Elvis’s Jail house rock started to play and feeling bold you took Bucky’s hand and started dancing with him not caring that places on you were moving with they shouldn’t or that your wide hips were bumping his right then. Especially when he wrapped his arms around your thick waist and spun you around the kitchen a few times; your laughter warming his heart like nothing ever had. In that second he realized he wanted to get to know you better.

Breathless from laughing you pat Bucky’s arm to stop which he does holding you close, “Thank you soldier for that wonderful dance,” you bow as the next song starts but lunch still needed to be cooked. “Could you grab some parsley from the cabinet please?

“Course doll,” stepping over to the cabinet you’d been in, he searched for what you asked finding it all the way in the back. Turning to give it to you not expecting you to be almost right on top of him having come to grab the oregano the impact sending your backwards.

Eyes closed in preparation for the impact of the hard floor. That never came as a pair of strong arms shooting out quicker than a blink to grab and pull you close, “You okay?”

“My hero,” feeling your cheeks heat with a deep blush. “I should be asking you that question Bucky I did hit you pretty hard.”

“Nonsense barely felt it,” he smiles shaking the little bottle of parsley between you.

Taking the bottle, grabbing the oregano as well trying to forget how good it felt to be held, another question popping into mind, “Favorite sweet?”

“There’s this little diner down in Brooklyn that makes the best homemade pies and ice cream shakes. Surprisingly enough their still around after all these years, I’ll have to take you there sometime if you want?”

Looking up at him, “I’d like that.”

Nodding already making plans in his head part of him thinking it might be foolish to hope to much that most likely you were just being nice in saying you’d go. However, the other part of him held onto that hope with both hands.

Having drained the meat and added it to the sauce, you grabbed a small spoon, dipped it in then held it out for Bucky to taste, “Careful now don’t burn yourself.”

Blowing a few times before tasting, savoring the wonderful flavors of the sauce, “That’s fantastic Y/N. Where’d you learn to cook like that?”

“Mom, she wanted me to be able take care of myself and that included cooking which I love to do and to eat as well.”

“Absolutely nothing wrong with that doll,” he winks making your laugh a little and smack his arm.

Shaking your head, “Why don’t you have a girl Buck you’re an amazing guy any girl would be crazy not to want?” ducking your head having no idea where that question came from or why you even asked it. Giving the fact that it wasn’t a part of the list you had running through your head to ask.

“Haven’t found the right partner,” remembering when Peggy had told him those very same words while looking at Steve. He’s starting to get what she meant by them while looking at you.

Your eyes have locked and held only to break apart when bubbling reaches your ears and have to turn breaking the spell.

“You will just a matter of time,” the comment leaves your lips tasting a little bitter on your tongue wishing for that person to be you. “Besides spaghetti is there anything else you really like?”

Catching on Bucky turns to lean against the counter an idea forming in his mind, “Homemade mostly, meatloaf, Salisbury steak, mash potatoes that sorta thing.”

“Comfort foods,” you offer glancing over at him seeing the slow nod. “Favorite movie?”

Shrugging, “Not really haven’t seen anything worth watch more than once. You?

Gasping, putting your hand to your chest, “That’s because you’re watching the wrong movies Mr. Barnes as for mine that would be a hard thing to pick from; I have so many.”

“Would you share them with me?” eyes hopeful as you look up at him.

Biting your bottom lip, “Of course I would Buck that’s what friends do they share their favorite things.”

Cursing himself for not explaining he just nods, “Favorite candy?”

“Oh there are so many to choose from, but for movie nights that would have to be Y/F/C and popcorn of course. You?”

“Junior mints, caramel popcorn and a soda it’s something Steve got me hooked on after my pardon and I could go places other than missions and the Compound.”

Placing a hand on his arm you look up into his steal blue eyes, “It’s good all that stuff is behind you now you can look towards the future.”

“Would you go to a fall festival with me?” not sure why he’s chose this moment to ask; maybe it’s the way you’re looking at him or the hand on his arm. Perhaps a combination of both but the words are out now and frankly he didn’t want to take them back.

Shock is the first thing that’s presence, then a little bit of denial mixed with worry that he’s just asking as a friend, “Would this and I don’t mean to sound pushy but I rather make sure first off, but will this be a date or just two friends having a good time. Because I haven’t been to a festival of any kind in a long time,” you ramble for a moment till his smile makes you stop. “What is there something on my face?

“No its perfect and it would be a date Y/N unless you don’t want that?”

Smacking his arm returning the smile, “Sweet talker.” You could see the worry creeping into his eyes so you put the man out of his misery, “I’d love to go with you Buck.”

***********

I’d been three weeks since he’d asked you, since that time you’ve both learned a lot about each other. Still played your little game wish Bucky confused him catch onto rather early and now here you were, stuffed with festival food, laughing and cuddled close against the cooler weather.

“One more question for you Y/N,” seeing you nod he smiles. “Would you be my girl?”

Grinning, “I’d love to be James,” his full name rolling off your tongue as his lips capture yours in a soft sweet kiss that steals you breath.

#pmfgk2 #bucky barnes x plus sized reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x plus size reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fan fiction

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indominusregina · 7 years

Text

The Bet: Unforseen Consequences

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: Swearing Lite™, flirtacious Bucky

Word count: 2.1k

Notes: Finally, part 2! Lots of complications in my personal life led to a long gap between part 1 and 2, but I don’t forsee many more delays like this one! This part has the actual prompt (Is that the best you can do?) from the @justsomebucky challenge! Also, credit where credit is due, many of the wonderful responses are from @sarahwroteathing Enjoy part 2! Remember, feedback gives me life!

Masterlist || Part 1 || Part 3 || Series Masterlist

The rest of the morning, Bucky is quiet. You aren’t going out of your way to avoid him, but even so, he’s nowhere to be found. Although you’re not overly concerned by the bet, having him almost entirely vanish is setting your nerves on edge, making you more than a little paranoid every time you round a corner. Will he preempt his line with something? Will he just go for it?

Your fears are abated mid-afternoon. Just as you finally settle down on the couch to watch some Netflix and procrastinate on packing with a steaming mug of tea after a hard workout, Bucky strolls in and sits down on the other end. You tense up but continue your browsing, both of you waiting in silence. Just as you settle on a show, Bucky clears his throat.

“Hey, uh, is your name Earl Grey?” He starts, and you look over at him in confusion. “Because you’re a hot-tea!”

Your face quickly drops from confusion to unamused. “Leaf me alone.” You deadpan before returning your attention to the screen in front of you, selecting the show and staring ahead. There’s a brief moment of silence as your episode loads before he gets up and awkwardly walks away. So that’s how these two weeks are going to go.

~~~

The next time Bucky tries a line on you, you’re slightly more prepared. You managed to watch a few episodes of your show before Wanda dragged you away to start packing because “your stuff won’t pack itself, Y/N, and no matter how many times you ask me, no I will not put your things into boxes using my powers.” Lame. After spending some quality time with the dust bunnies at the back of your closet, you’re ready for a dinner break with the rest of the team.

You glance over at Bucky continually throughout dinner, which at this point is down to just takeout, since half of the kitchen has been packed away and is ready to be sent off to the upstate compound. He catches your eye after the tenth time or so and offers a wolfish grin. You raise an eyebrow at him in a silent dare. Unable to decline your challenge, he swallows his mouthful of food before clearing his throat.

“You know what’s on the menu? Me ‘n’ u.” He grins, and everyone else at the table pauses, some confused, while Natasha is intrigued.

“Gee, I thought it was foot, since yours seems to be in your mouth.” The words are out of your mouth instantly, followed by a chorus of “oohs” from the rest of the teammates.

“Would someone care to explain what just happened?” Tony asks as you continue to eat the food in front of you, unphased by the reaction of the group.

Natasha steps in to answer for you. “Barnes and Y/L/N have a bet going on. Barnes is doing his best to make Y/L/N blush with a pickup line. If he succeeds in the next two weeks, she has to wingman for him, and if he doesn’t, he has to be her escape date for a month.”

“What the hell’s an escape date?” Tony blurts out and you finally speak up.

“He has to pretend to be my date whenever some asshole - sorry Steve - won’t take no for an answer.” You respond as Steve mutters something about language.

“So you’re trying shitty pickup lines that you’ve clearly found online?” Sam turns to Bucky, an amused smirk on his lips.

“Well, where else am I supposed to get them?” He frowns and Sam laughs.

“Y’know what, Frosty? I just might help you out. This sounds like fun.” You narrow your eyes at Sam as he says this.

“Help him, Wilson, and the same terms will apply to you when I win.” Your voice is low and threatening, and Sam seems to reconsider his decision.

“Nevermind, you’re on your own.” He tells Bucky, quickly returning to his food.

“That’s what I thought.” You finish your food and stand, giving one last sweep around the room. “This is between Bucky and myself. Any of you step in, and you’re done for.” You throw your container out in one smooth motion as you continue on your way out the door. You can barely hear Steve as you leave.

“Well, good luck, Buck.” He clears his throat as he finishes his statement.

“Thanks, Stevie.” The sarcasm in his voice has you smirking.

~~~

You’re in the gym getting in one last workout before moving day has everything packed up when Bucky tries again. Clad in leggings and a sports bra, you’re busy with a barbell when he walks up. You lock eyes in the mirror as you squat, holding the weight steady on your shoulders.

Bucky eyes your backside as you lower yourself and grins. “Are those space pants? Because your ass is outta this world!”

You keep your eyes locked on his as you stand, setting the weight down on the rack behind you. You turn to face him before holding up your pointer finger in his face. “Phone home, E.T.” You leave him muttering as you move on to the next weight machine in your circuit.

~~~~

You’re dressed up for a benefit event, waiting in the living room for Tony, Nat, and Clint to make their appearance when Bucky walks in. He lets out a low whistle as he takes in your appearance, and you turn to face him. “I must be in a museum, because you are truly a work of art.” His voice is a little lower than usual, but you shrug it off.

“I’m pretty sure that you’re old enough to make anywhere you go seem like a museum.” You chirp, crossing your arms. Clint and Natasha walk in at that moment and Clint laughs. You raise your hand for a high five, which he gladly meets. “Better luck next time, Barnes. For future note, calling a girl a masterpiece might get you farther.” You turn on your heel as Tony strolls in, late as usual, and head with them towards the lift. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Bucky actually making a note of your comment and you giggle as the doors close behind you.

~~~

The afternoon before the move, you find yourself practicing your bow and arrow skills with Clint. You’re doing alright, but you know you could be better. Bucky walks in just in time for you to actually shoot one into the center of the target. With a whoop and a grin, you do a little victory dance, eyes gleaming as Clint compliments you. You don’t notice Bucky until he speaks.

“Is there something in your eye?” You turn to face him, wiping at your eye and frowning. “Oh wait, it’s just a sparkle.”

Your earlier joy dies a bit at his comment. You were so excited to celebrate your tiny victory, and he had to cheapen it with a dumb line. Giving him a glare, your response is a bit sharper than it normally is. “Damn. My murderous glint must be losing its intensity.”

Bucky frowns at this and you turn back to the target, nocking another arrow on your bowstring and drawing. When you release, you score a close hit, but not quite as good as your last one. Your shoulders slump a little in defeat, and Bucky slinks away, feeling a little bit guilty.

~~~

The morning of the move, you go out for a run early, the anticipation of the upcoming move making you too jittery to sleep. After a few pre-dawn miles are finished, you’ve managed to burn most of the anxious energy out of your system, and you feel pretty satisfied as you make your way back to the (mostly empty) tower. As you ride the lift back up to the common area, you stretch, looking forward to a tall glass of water to help with your recovery.

The doors open on your floor and you beeline it to the kitchen, trying to level out your breathing as you come down from your runner’s high. You stand at the sink and, looking around and seeing no one, you duck your head under the running stream of water. It wasn’t worth it to try and find a glass, wash it, dry it, and repack it. After a few gulps, you stand back up, wiping your mouth and breathing a little harder than before after downing what was probably at least one glass of water. Of course, Bucky walks in at that moment.

“Well, gee doll, are you running out of breath from running through my head all night?”

You roll your eyes, still trying to catch your breath for a moment. When you finally decide to speak again, your response is yet another snarky comment “No, but this one was so terrible, I am speechless.” The idea of being in Bucky’s dreams has you unsettled. You know he has a lot of nightmares, and although this is probably just a line, you find yourself agitated that you might be something that upsets him. This new feeling accompanies you as you make your way back to your room to clean up and change into comfy travel clothes.

~~~

Later that afternoon, everyone files outside, with small squabbles over who gets to go in which vehicle. It’s already set that you’re in Nat’s van as navigator, and Steve is driving the other car with Bucky riding shotgun. You double check that you’ve got everything for your car, and find that in your file of information, you’ve got the map for the other car as well. As everyone finally settles on their car, you make your way to Bucky’s window, gesturing to Nat that you’ll be right back.

You knock on Bucky’s window, grabbing his attention. He beams as he notices it’s you at the window and rolls it down.

“Darlin’, what a surprise! You wanna come in this car?” You give him a look before you hold up your folder.

“Sorry, Buck. I’m navigator for the other car.” You give him a quick smile, and he smiles back. You stay that way for a moment before he clears his throat.

“Hey doll, do you have a map?” His words cause you to snap out of your daze.

“Huh?” You shake your head slightly, trying to clear your mind.

“Because I’m getting lost in your eyes.” He waggles his eyebrows at you and you give him another look before tossing the map you had for him into his lap and patting his cheek. Turning, you head quickly back to your car. What was that, Y/N? You’re going crazy. Your mind is a little off kilter again, and you can’t shake the feeling that something’s off throughout the drive to the new compound.

~~~

It’s a calm morning as everyone settles into life at the compound instead of the tower. There’s so much more room here, and everything is just quieter in general, leading to your peaceful mood as you start to make breakfast.

You set some coffee on and, knowing that it will draw a crowd, you pull out a pack of bacon and a carton of eggs, intent on making breakfast for whoever comes in. Humming, you set some strips of bacon into a pan and pull out another for the eggs.

Sure enough, as soon as you start scrambling some eggs for yourself, Bucky saunters into the kitchen.

“Is that the sun in here, or is your smile just that bright?” You roll your eyes as Bucky slides up next to you as you stir your eggs.

“Is that the best you can do today, Barnes?” You raise an eyebrow as he pours himself a mug of coffee.

“No, but you are.” He says with a wink, and your stomach does a little flip. You swallow hard, but it gets stuck in your throat, causing you to cough.

“I-In your dreams, Barnes.” You sputter out between coughs, eyes watering. Bucky sets down his mug and hurries over to you.

“Are you alright?” Bucky asks, concern in his eyes as he gently rubs your back. You nod, fighting the butterflies in your stomach. Suddenly, you’re grateful for the incident, as you’re no longer sure that the flush in your cheeks is strictly from choking.

As he turns back to his coffee and you turn back to the stove in front of you, it hits you.

Butterflies. Red cheeks.

Signs that indicate that you just might be falling for Bucky Barnes.

….

Oh shit.

Part 3

Tags: @childoftimeandmagic, @shugr12110629, @emolordisme, @dugan365, @sociallyimpairedme, @witchymarvelspacecase, @dontsassmecastiel, @peter-pan-hoe, @assbutt-son-of-a-bitch, @allofthesearetakendafuq

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #reader insert #jsd4kcelebration #jsb4kcelebration #marvel fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic

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